#(Especially when she was born to a priest...)

[wheredafandomat]

Blood Lust

Written by @wheredafandomat and @simplyholl 🖤

Welcome to Whore-O-Ween everyone!!

Summary: You're sent to live with Father Laufeyson who is known for his work with wayward young ladies. But all is not as it seems.

Pairing: Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Blasphemy. Loki going down on you while you're bleeding. Loss of virginity. Masturbation. Voyeurism.

W/C: 3K

Part of the Whore-O-Ween Spooktacular

The glow of the candlelight flickered. You stood to place another log on the fire. You were locked in your room for the third time this week. Since you had come of age, the young men of the village had taken notice of you.

Now you were twenty years old, and your family was desperate to marry you off. But you had gained a reputation among the village. You were to marry the innkeeper’s son, Jonathon. But his family broke the engagement once word got to them.

You had been seen with two men alone. This was all so silly. You had never even been kissed. You were saving everything for your husband, like any devout girl would.

Your father walked in, taking the wood from you, and placing it on the dying flames. “Daughter, you know there has been talk of your sins around the village. I cannot wed you to any of the young men. Even old Mr. Smith wouldn’t accept my offer for your hand.”

Your breakfast threatened to come back up at the mention of him. He was a strange, bald man who lived a few houses down. His wife had died of influenza years ago, and he never remarried.

“Harvey told me about a priest who takes in young girls who find themselves in trouble. He will pray over you and reform you until you are ready to come home. He lives two towns over. His name is Father Laufeyson. I sent him a letter asking him to take you. His reply came this morning, and he agreed. Pack your belongings. We will make the journey when the sun rises tomorrow.”

When you arrive, you notice Father Laufeyson’s house looks more like a castle from your storybooks than the cottages you were used to. That’s probably why it was tucked away far into the woods, away from the other houses.

Two people stood outside the large house waiting for you. One was Father Laufeyson. The first thing you notice is how handsome he is. You blush, God forgive me for thinking inappropriately, especially about a man of the cloth you silently pray.

The other was a tall brunette woman. She appeared to be a few years older than you. She beamed, walking toward you. She pulls you in for a hug, “I’m Esther.” You introduce yourself, returning the hug. She takes your hand, leading you into your new home.

That night at dinner, the three of you talked like old friends. You were starving, you notice Father Laufeyson doesn’t eat much. He just sips his red wine, listening to you and Esther chatter.

The following morning you change into your best church dress, meeting him and Esther downstairs. You and Esther take a seat in the front of the church. You look at the congregation, taking note that it’s mostly women. How unusual you thought.

Where were their husbands, brothers, and fathers? You shrug it off. Church was the only place a lady could go without the company of a man. You carefully watch Father Laufeyson as he begins the service.

There was something off about him, but you couldn’t place it. It could be that you were attracted to him. That had to be it. The priest in your village was old when you were born. You just weren’t used to priests being this young. After church, he took you and Esther on a picnic for lunch. You two ate the delicious sandwiches he prepared, but he refused saying he wasn’t hungry.

You had free reign of the house except for Father Laufeyson’s room. All three of you had rooms on the same floor. Yours and Esther’s were beside each other, making it easy for late night talks. His was down the hall.

It had been four weeks since you first arrived. You liked it better with each passing day. You could take walks along the property. You could read all day, if you liked. He had quite the extensive library.

You wake up in the middle of the night when you hear Esther cry out. You leave your room, candle in hand walking toward the noise. You stop at Father Laufeyson’s room. The door is ajar just enough to peek inside. You see Esther against the wall, head thrown back in ecstasy, legs wrapped around his waist. He thrusts up into her. You gasp, covering your mouth when he looks toward the door.

You know you should leave, but you stay glued to your spot, never taking your innocent eyes off of them. Esther moans when his hand moves between them under her dress. He gathers her hair off her neck, pale face leaning down toward her.

The candlelight in his room shines on his face, putting a spotlight on his long fangs sinking into the side of her neck. He feeds on her slowly as she slumps in his arms. You press your hand harder to your mouth to stifle your cries. Tears streak down your face as you run back to your room.

You had heard about vampires before. Your village and the surrounding ones were once overrun with them. The pale beasts were all destroyed. But here you are living with one who disguised himself as a man of God.

You keep replaying what you saw over and over. He bit Esther, but she seemed to be enjoying it. You feel an unfamiliar ache between your legs from thinking about it. You run your hand up your thigh to your core. You were most likely going to die by the hands of the handsome vampire. You might as well experience a little pleasure before you do. You would beg for God’s forgiveness later. Your fingers swipe through your untouched folds, taking the slick arousal to your clit.

You move clumsily, hesitating at first. Then you imagine Father Laufeyson holding you against that wall, his teeth on your neck. You shake as your very first orgasm hits you. The following morning, it’s just you and the fake priest. “Father, where is Esther? Is she unwell?” You ask him, studying his face for a change in demeanor.

“She’s well. Her family came back for her before daylight. She went to your room to tell you goodbye, but you were sleeping so soundly, she didn’t want to wake you.” You put on your best fake smile. Esther was dead, and the beast before you killed her. You tried to avoid him as much as possible in the following days.

But you had to dine with him, even if he didn’t eat. You still had to attend church with him. Other than that, you stayed hidden in your room. You were terrified of him, but that didn’t stop you from fantasizing about him. You spent your nights with your hand under your nightgown or humping your pillow thinking of him.

It was shameful, but you couldn’t stop. You felt so guilty after making yourself cum twice in one night, you got down on your knees, praying for forgiveness, begging for it. That night, you dreamt that you drove a stake through his heart, ending this misery. You took it as a sign from God. This is what you were meant to do.

Father Laufeyson took you into town. You waited until he went into the store, and you walked to the woodworker’s shop. You commissioned an oak stake. They looked at you like you had lost your mind. They told you the last of the vampires had been destroyed long ago. But the coins Laufeyson gave you put food on the table for their families.

You had to wait three long weeks before he took you into town again. When you got the chance, you went to retrieve the weapon. That night, you decided it was time. You couldn’t live with him anymore, not after knowing what he is. You had to fulfill your purpose. You knew he was at the church preparing his sermon for the next morning. You ran the whole way there, heart racing.

You stepped inside cautiously, trying to ignore the chill of the air telling you to turn back around, to run away. But you couldn’t. Your feet carried you forward, surprisingly confident, unlike yourself. Confidence, that’s what you needed, what you tried to embody, that was your protection against the pale beast.

You flinched as a jolt of lightning shone through the church, lighting everything in a quick spark of chrome before you were in darkness again, except for a few candles. You knew you had to act as if nothing was wrong, as if you didn’t know. Survival was only guaranteed that way.

“Y/N.” You took a deep breath hearing your name fall from his lips in a honeyed utterance. “Father.” You greeted him, the faux priest, as you stepped towards him. “Come, child.” He gestured to the organ, prompting you to follow him. “Sit.” You fought to keep your breathing steady as you approached him, biting your lip to stop it from trembling as you observed him.

You were told that his kind would perish in a place like this, that they would burn. But here he was making a mockery of God, wearing an idle collar and parading around untouchable. But not after tonight. Many times, you had shared this seat with him, ignoring the cold that his presence brought, ignoring the call to sin when he looked at you, emerald green eyes boring into yours.

Tonight was different, you couldn’t relax. “What ails you?” He questioned, lifting his hand and stroking a key with one of his dexterous fingers. “I believe I may have found my calling.” You answered, taking a deep breath as you raised one of your fingers onto the keys. “Your calling” He repeated almost questioningly. “Other than to serve your god?” My God?” “God.” He corrected. “Yes, I believe he has asked me to serve Him in another way.” You continued, both of you gently playing a familiar tune.

“Pray tell, what is this other way? What is this newfound calling?” “I must protect this Earth.” You stated, using your free hand to clutch the weapon in your pocket. “From what?” He questioned, turning to look at you with a small smirk. “From me?” “What?” You gasped, trying to keep your breaths even. “Do you really think a piece of oak would be enough to stop me?” He snickered.

“I mean honestly” He continued, leaning towards you, his mouth dangerously close to your neck as you froze. “You underestimate me.” He noted coyly, reaching around you, grabbing the cross stake from your other hand. “No!” You cry, still frozen in fear as he threw it across the room. “On the contrary, I do believe you have another calling.” He stated, standing before stepping behind you.

“A more carnal one.” He continued; his voice sharp in your ear as he leaned over you. “I mean you serve a man no more virtuous than yourself” He paused as you gasped. “I’ve read the books.” He cut you off. “You serve a man no more virtuous than yourself, yet you reap no rewards.”

“I will be rewarded with an eternity in His kingdom.” You spat. “How about a night in mine?” He smirked against your ear, causing you to spin around. “You’d never admit it, but you’ve sinned more than me.” “Don’t you dare say that!” “You think I don’t know you touch yourself thinking about me, yearning for me, even after you found out exactly who I am, what I am?”

“S-stop.” You stuttered. “Grinding against your pillow, moaning my name. Oh! It’s music to my ears.” He cheered. “I’m offering you a night of sin, a night with me.” He proclaimed. “I won’t judge you. I welcome your debauchery. I’ll cherish your moans. I’ll reward your praise.” “St-stop it.” You continued to stutter, clenching your thighs together.

“Burn with me, Y/N, just for tonight.” He whispered, leaning closer to you, his lips brushing against yours as you close your eyes. “I’ve never been touched.” You emitted nervously; eyes still closed. “I know, but you want to be. It’s what you have spent so long desiring.” He spoke against your lips, one of his hands ghosting down your body as your breath hitched.

He didn’t have to push your legs apart; they were already gapped from your quick spin around. You inhaled sharply as you felt him cup your sex, eyes opening to find him staring into yours. “Is this where you touch yourself when you think about me?” He smirked, his hand moving up and down, massaging against your clothed heat.

“Rubbing yourself, imagining me, my hand, my body until you reach there, that sweet release.” He almost cooed, his hand more pressured now. You tried to stave away the temptation of bucking your hips into his touch, but it was hard. It felt too good. You wanted more. You needed more. You needed him to do what he did to Esther. “Tell me what you desire, and I’ll do it.” “Take it.” You answered almost breathlessly. “It?”

“My purity, take it.” “That’s my girl.” He purred in your ear again, before his free hand gripped your chin, pulling you into a deep kiss. His tongue pushed passed yours, exploring your mouth. His other hand was still between your legs, your hips thrusting into his touch.

Now that his lips were properly on yours, you realized how cold they were, how gelid. Your hands reached upwards, cupping his cheeks which were no warmer than his lips. You tried to stay silent, but you couldn’t, not when you felt his hand slipping underneath your skirt, fingers smoothing over the cloth material of your panties.

“Father!” You gasped as two of his fingers pushed your underwear to the side, meeting your clit. “Loki.” He corrected. “Loki” you moaned, eyes closing as he drew languid circles over your clit. “You virgins are so receptive.” He sniggered. “You’re already so wet for me.” His name fell from your lips again as he continued his movements, his fingers growing slick from your arousal. Lost in the pleasure, you almost didn’t realize that his fingers were venturing lower down your center.

Your eyes flew open, feeling him enter you slowly. “L-Loki” You stuttered feeling full. “Do you like that?” He asked, leisurely pumping his fingers in and out of you. “Yesss” You hum in response, drowning in the sensation. You felt overwhelmed, you were wetter than you’ve ever been.

Small moans escaped you as Loki continued thrusting his fingers inside of you. A metallic scent evaded your nose. As if he could smell it too, Loki stopped his movements causing you to open your eyes, only for them to round in surprise at the sight of his fingers. They were practically glistening crimson. You barely had time to react before Loki was bringing them to his lips, licking off the blood.

“What’s happening?” You panicked, despite not being in any pain. “It’s normal.” Loki answered, releasing his index finger with a pop. The remembrance of what he was overcame you as a blanket of guilt shrouded you. You didn’t feel good anymore. Before Loki could continue, you began closing your legs wanting to leave. You wanted to forget about all of this, but instead you yelped, feeling him grab one of your legs and pushing them further apart as he got to his knees. He slid your panties off your legs, discarding them on the floor.

“One can’t prepare a feast and expect others not to dine.” He spoke cryptically before you felt his cold, wet tongue against your core lapping up the blood dripping from you. Your hands flew to his hair, gripping it tightly as he entered you with his tongue, washing any hesitation away. You couldn’t help but scream in pleasure at the feeling of his nose rubbing your clit as he feasted on you.

“Delicious.” He spoke against you as you shamelessly ground your hips against his face. You were overcome with delectation despite the fact that this was more than just a carnal encounter. “I need you, Loki.” You finally implored, interrupting Loki’s banquet. Glancing up at you, he lifted his head from between your legs, licking his lips clean as he lowered your leg. His hand found yours as he prompted you to join him on the floor.

You did so, wordlessly straddling him like you imagined so many nights alone with your pillow. He felt good underneath you, like it was where he belonged. Your bare sex rubbed against his clothes as you readjusted yourself, Loki looking up into your eyes. “Is this how you want me to take you?” He spoke, breaking the silence. “Yes.” You replied, trying to quell your nervousness. Loki didn’t talk as he unsheathed himself before guiding you above his manhood.

He watched your expression as he thrusted up into you, his hands on your hips pushing you down against him. You couldn’t help your moans as he filled you, burying himself inside you. You move your hips against his, living out your fantasy. You found yourself growing closer to the end, to your release, to his demise. He was obviously moving slower for you, you had watched him move a lot faster for Esther, and for that you’d make sure you were as quick as you could be.

Leaning down against him, your lips almost brushed his again as you reached out, your fingers wrapping around the discarded stake. Loki was right, it was oak. Well, most of it. What he didn’t know was that the tip was willow, lethal. “You feel so good, so pure.” Loki groaned from beneath you, gripping your hips tightly as you sat back up.

His eyes were closed, that’s how he didn’t see it, how he didn’t know he was in danger. You continued grinding your hips against his, your clit rubbing against his pelvis as you neared your climax. Walls tightly gripping Loki’s length, you raise your hand before plunging the stake into his chest.

Loki’s eyes flew open, the betrayal evident on his features as his life slipped away. You felt powerful, immensely so, as you took his life, draining him, milking him. You moaned as your climax shook you. This was it; this was your calling.

Tags 🖤

@lokischambermaid @gruftiela @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @itsybitchylittlewitchy @wolfsmom1 @gigglingtiggerv2 @chantsdemarins @buttercupcookies-blog @lokisgoodgirl @donaweasley @muddyorbsblr @litaloni @lovingchoices14 @mochie85 @lamentis-10 @loz-3 @glitchquake @goblingirlsarah @multifandom-worlds @kats72 @eleniblue @mischief2sarawr @anukulee @joyful-enchantress @fictive-sl0th @marygoddessofmischief @lulubelle814 @evelyn-rathmore @lokiestorch @ladymischief11 @valarieravenhearst1 @cakesandtom @monkey0105 @dj-murasaki @ririsutty73 @cindylynn @violethaze @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Being in a relationship with Enki Ankarian...

Being born with the Enlightened Soul, Enki was cursed and blessed with a restless need to constantly seek for new knowledge and secrets hidden away from the massive community of common folk. Such a trait had started manifesting within him at a very young age, as he was chosen to become a Dark Priest upon his and his twin sister’s birth. 

Despite their rather close relationship, they were pitted against each other, typical to such occult rites, and had to fight to death with ritual daggers. Unfortunately for him, Enki was born with a frail body, that only remained fragile due to his extensive overindulging in studying, and lack of going outside or doing any kind of physical activities - Thus, his sister easily overpowered him, her dagger on his neck, waiting for the final blow.

She, however, showed mercy that he was incapable of, and withdrew her dagger, stepping away, as the high priest masters glared gleefully at the ridiculously pitiful event unfolding before their very eyes.

Unable to accept defeat, Enki rose from the ground, as soon as his sister’s back was carelessly turned to him, and he stroke his dagger to her spine, watching with cold, empty eyes as she collapsed to the ground. The high priests seemed especially pleased with this and prepared for his ascension ceremony, where he resurrected his deceased sister into a ghoul, using the newly acquired skill of Necromancy. 

The cold, blank corpse of his sister brought a smile of satisfaction and accomplishment on his otherwise emotionless, pale face. 

After his ascension to Dark Priesthood, he left the temple grounds to learn occult on his own, in a dark pilgrimage. He began praying to Gro-Goroth as he began dedicating his studies to the knowledge of Old-Gods.

Enki travelled across the Western continent, learning about different Gods, deities, blood magic and all known sciences. His studies didn’t come without their merit, as he was rightfully acknowledged by the top scholars of modern times, being granted a pass to the great libraries of the Kingdom of Rondon, having the collection of all known history and science at his grasp. 

During his intensive research, drowning in a copious amount of piles of books and paintings, swimming in an endless ocean of knowledge, when suddenly, he felt compelled to raise his head, for a single split second - But that was enough to feast his eyes on the radiant presence of a woman that seemed to glow with such an aura that was unfamiliar to Enki.

For some reason, this human made Enki want to approach her, to delight himself with that Sun-like warmth and gentleness, and never let go. His brain had gone hay-wire for that exact single second, and he imagined her Ascension, defeating even Alll-mer in influence and radiance, for she would be worthy of worship far and wide, a single Goddess above them all, be them New or Old alike.

Ha! What a fool he’s been, allowing himself to fall prey to a woman’s charm, as if he is alike any of those petty mundane wretches, much beneath them. Surely, there was nothing that she had, except for a pretty face, and long soft locks, and a dress so beautiful and embellished with rich ornaments and golden thread embroidery... And there he goes again, losing time with meaningless thoughts!

O, and how he wished she would stop living rent-free inside his head, just so he could return to his endless studying already... Alas, that woman was gracefully sitting on a velvety chair by the dimly lit window, adopting a relaxed yet incredibly elegant pose as she began reading some kind of large, dusty tome, so old that it was almost ripping apart at the seams.

Such negligence - She might her slender, delicate fingers, but surely, there was no way an uneducated idiot like herself would be able to handle such a frail book!

Fuming, he didn’t quite realise he came up with an unlikely scenario, just to have a reason to march up in front of the beauty and speak to her - Surely, if he was to approach her with his usual misanthropy, she would be compelled to hate him and would avoid him at all costs - What a brilliant plan!

“What do you think you’re doing, you brain dead vermin?! Books like this one are supposed to be handled with intensive care!” in his makeshift rage, he tried to look away from that adorably confused face of hers, or those glowing doe eyes, looking up into his dead eyes with such radiant vitality. He grabbed at her hands, and almost shivered lightly at how soft and soft they were, compared to his skeletal-like cold and clammy ones.

“Oh, forgive me, Sir, I meant no harm.” her voice was so princess-like, compared to his gruff voice, rough from lack of speaking, that he almost felt his whole body caressed with honeyed mead. “You see, I often come to these libraries and rehabilitate old tomes like this one. I either sew protective covers over them, or try to re-write them, so that more copies would be available for people to read. There have been numerous cases of books being destroyed or going missing, and there was no way of retrieving the lost knowledge.” that sweet smile applied some colour to his otherwise ghost-white face, and for the first time in his life, Enki felt his heart pounding in his chest, harder than that time when his sister almost killed him.

Slowly, Enki let go of her hands and peered down at the book’s covers - Indeed, the seaming was freshly done, and the gold thread was adequately holding together the hardboiled leather. Even the inscription of the title was masterfully done, so much so that he found no defect to complain about or scold her for. Which meant, he also had no other reason to keep in contact or speak with this woman - So what was he supposed to do?! He had no clue how to react in such a difficult social dilemma.

“I am glad that there are more attentive people like yourself, with a genuinely love for knowledge and books!” she chirped softly, radiating with kindness and warmth. “If there were more people like yourself, it would be so much easier to preserve all this precious fountain of knowledge and allow a wider range of people to access it.” “You’re delusional.” contrary to what he was truly thinking, Enki grumbled under his breath, the corner of his mouth turning upwards in a disgusted sneer. “You wouldn’t be the first to call me that!” her giggle seemed as tender as an angel’s embrace. “It’s quite alright though! I just do what I like to do, and if people can benefit from my work, then all the best!” he was speechless, from a variety of reasons. “Are you quite alright, Sir? You seem unusually pale. Are you feeling ill?” at the same time that the beauty reached out her hands to cup his cold face and feel him up, Enki’s eyes widened like a dead fish’s, and he violently retracted away from her touch, as though he was terrified of getting burnt by her Sun-like warmth. Not only that, but the tome from her lap fell to the ground with a thud and a large cloud of dust, which ultimately made them both cough. “I’m fine. Mind your own business, woman.” he grunted in between coughs, crouching down to get the book - Only to feel her hand underneath his own - Was it fate, that such a continuous string of intimate coincidences keep happening? Was he supposed to meet her? Was there truly a red string of destiny wrapped around them both, pulling them together? “Oh, forgive me, Sir.” she smiled softly at him, waiting for him to remove his larger hand from on top of hers. He didn’t, captivated and lost in her eyes. “You may take the book at home for studying, if you’d like. I can guarantee for you. You seem like a man who truly treasures knowledge and books.” “Stop calling me Sir, it’s annoying. Enki Ankarian.” he grumbled, snatching away his hand from over hers, before cradling the tome to his chest, as though it’s his most cherished possession.  “It is lovely meeting you, Mr. Ankarian.” the glare she received made her offer a sheepish grin. “Uh... Mr. Enki?” the glare got harsher. “Enki...?” his glare dissipated, replaced once again by a blank stare, and a weird sense of relief and content washed over him. “My name is Y/N. You must be having an Enlightened Soul, right?” Enki rose a questioning eyebrow - Was it truly that evident, even to somehow he just met for the first time? Still, he grunted a positive answer. “No wonder - Then, I have all the more reason to trust you with borrowing books from our library.” Enki couldn’t help but pick up on the odd choice of a possessive pronoun. “Good to know.” he mumbled under his breath. “Whose library is it?” “Loosely speaking, it belongs to the Kingdom of Rondon, but it was my family who founded it, long ago, and we’ve kept taking care of it, having scholars, maesters and priests over, leaving imprints of their knowledge here and what not.” the way she was speaking of her family and the library seemed to make her exceedingly proud and happy. “Do you have a Radiating Soul or what?!” Enki found himself blurting out without as much as any bit of consideration or a normal, social filter. But the woman before him didn’t seem to mind it, nor was she seemingly bothered by it at all. For a delicate damsel like herself, she seemed to be tanking his brashness and rudeness with an impenetrable shield of white light. “Oh, yes, you are correct! As expected of someone bright like yourself!” she seemed to be bubbling over with glee. No wonder he was immediately attracted to her, from the second she entered the room. People like her were born to have tons of people flocking around her like moths to the flame. How annoying.

Enki couldn’t help but glare at the woman before him, smiling so brightly, as though she’s never even heard of the horrors of the world, let alone experience them; A creature so pure, that the glimmers of hope sparkle all around them. This woman was the perfect opposite of him, so much so that he almost felt afraid of being anywhere near her. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? Such a situation went much over the parameters of his abilities and skills. 

“Will I see you around tomorrow also?” Enki’s breath hitched in his throat and his heart stopped beating, as soon as he heard that God forsaken question. “I have to return the book, don’t I?” he found himself successfully grunting a satisfactory answer. “Wonderful!” she chimed happily. “Then, it is time for me to return home and bake some cookies!” with his eyes bulging out of his sockets, and his jaw slightly agape, Enki felt his throat dry, wondering - What the hell has he gotten himself into?

From then on, almost on a daily basis, Enki would spent day in and day out at the libraries of Rondon, accompanied by that annoyingly beautiful woman, who captured his dead heart in such a weird way. 

You would bring over trays of snacks and cookies she made, along with tea, coffee, with small recipients with milk and honey for sweetening - Of course, you would drink the sweetest beverages, whilst he liked them black and bitter - And he has to admit, everything you made, was out of this world delicious.

His skin even started getting some colour, and his body wasn’t as skeletal-skinny, due to being unconsciously taken care of, to the point that you even invited him over at your rather lavish house, where he’d eventually move in, without much protest.

Years later, he still isn’t quite sure how the hell did he end up moving in so quickly and effortlessly - It all felt incredibly natural, and he didn’t even realise what had happened, until it was too late, and he had slept over in his own dormitory for over a month. It was a comfortable life he was living, with no restrictions about studying, nor the need to work ; Though, in a way, he did feel as though he was taking advantage of your kindness, which irked him enough into thinking of way to compensate you in some way.

Realising there was nothing that he owned, which he could offer you, he proposed to teach you offensive magic. He knew well enough that you were safe and sound in Rondon, and you were well versed in the healing arts to begin with, but there comes no harm in having ways to defend yourself, correct? His sister should have been taught that lesson sooner.

With unexpected patience, Enki would put you closer to him on the sofa, with a book on his lap and an arm around your waist, reading to you whatever he was interested in at that moment, and would explain everything in great detail, making sure you understand everything there is of interest about that said topic.

And when it comes to practicing blood magic of any kind, he will have you practicing, in a safe environment, on wooden dummies. Hell, he was impressed by how easily you picked up on his teachings, that he even muttered out a bit of praise! Wonderous achievement!

Enki finds great comfort in brushing your hair, and would take all the time in the world just playing with those soft locks, even idly braiding it or twisting it around, as a means of relaxing or de-stressing.

At some point, during the hotter times of the year, he would begrudgingly allow you to also braid his hair and style it in a bun - You wear the same hairstyles more often than not - Mostly at home though, where there’s no one else to see.

When he gets frustrated, he would absent-mindedly doodle random runes or symbols all over your hand or arm, before going out into the cold rain to cool himself and start over whatever he project he was working on.

Though he always hisses like a cat, he loves it when you kiss his cheeks or forehead whenever you pass by his study desk. He loves your touch more than he’d like to admit, and he loves the way your plump, soft lips feel against his own, capable of pulling him out of this world - But what he loves more than anything, is how small you feel in his embrace, as you cuddle or hug - There is no words being said, only swimming in the love and bliss, feeling each other’s heartbeat, reveling in each other’s warmth.

When you get intimate, he’ll always stay above you, cradling your head and peppering your face with tons of lingering kisses, going down to your jaw and neck. Every sound you make, every twitch of your body, only drive him crazy. He’ll take his time with you, slow and steady, long strokes, until you see stars before your eyes, and him in the center of your world. If you try to look away as you climax, he’ll lightly tug on your hair, inching your face to make you look at him and only him as you come undone in his arms.

He might not admit to it, and he’ll never ever admit to it, not even to himself, but he loves you as much as he loves studying. On the days you’re going out together, strolling through the busy cobbled streets of Rondon, he will keep his arm around your waist, glaring at anyone who’d dare look at you - And with your Radiant Soul, there were plenty of people attracted to you. No one could get anywhere close to his little angel.

Though he found himself happiest and most comfortable living with you, his studies were never neglected, to the point that he found himself despairing for having nothing more that he can learn - This empty husk, limited to the Earthly, can only get him so far. He had reached the limits of any human can achieve, and all because of his Enlightened Soul, he was unable to find any means of keeping himself under control. He was going crazy, and there was nothing even you could do, even suggesting going traveling abroad, that could calm him down from his insanity.

There was no satisfaction, nor fulfilment that he could get. He allowed the Dark Priests to crucify him on the statue, naked, in the middle of the city, ready to be taken to the other world by Alll-mer. There was no silver lining waiting at the end; The purpose of all humans was to liver under the cold sun that the Gods have set above them all. 

Just as the Priests were ready to sacrifice him, Enki saw a vision - He wasn’t sure if it was your desperate visage that gave him new thirst for living, guilty of breaking your heart, or that mysterious thing flashing in the corner of his eyes - Whichever the case, he understood his new purpose, and was ready to start anew, to flip a new chapter in this agonising life.

Once the Priests brought him down, you immediately ran up to him, wrapping him up in a blanket to keep his cold, clammy skin warm. You were ready to bring him home, cook him a warm meal, bring him a hot tea - But he was far too excited about this new prophecy that he was shown, this revelation that foretold a man meant for greatness, who will begin a new era for mankind - Why would he share the spotlight of the Gods with any mortal man, anyway?

Prophecies are only for those who are weak enough to bend to their sorry fates. Enki was hell-bent on finding this man and learning more about him and this so-called destiny of his. As far as he’s aware, this man is imprisoned in the notorious dungeons of Fear and Hunger.

He knew this was it - The stairway to his Enlightenment, and he was dead set on discovering all the ancient secrets that this stronghold kept, all to reach the ultimate understanding of the greater scheme of things.

No matter how much he wished to keep you at home and promise you that he’ll return in time for dinner, he couldn’t. Not only was it impossible for him to lie to you like that, but he was also unable of stopping you from joining him, no matter how many times he warned you that he might not be able to keep you safe during this mess of a quest, or even as much as say with certainty that neither of you will die. Still, you were persistent, and though you felt your body shivering with fear as soon as you reached the courtyard to the two entrances, you still didn’t back down - You were going to stay by his side, through thick and thin.

From the very second that you got in front of the dungeons, he could see your body trembling softly with fear, from the sheer malevolent and suffocating pressure that it emanated. Enki was unable of reassuring you with words, but he held your hand, guiding you blindly through the intricate hallways of the labyrinthine dungeon, though he had no idea where exactly he had to go. The only thing he knew was that he had to find Le’Garde somewhere deep underneath the dungeons, in the prison levels... Probably.

As torches would go out far too quickly, leaving you to stumble blindly through the place, you used a simple magic spell to create a ball of light in your palm.

In a place as decrepit and plagued such as the Fear and Hunger dungeon, even your Radiating Soul seemed to be greying and fading tragically.

It was thanks to Enki’s level-headed and composed self that you could feel relatively safe. That, and his almost unsettling Necromancy skill, which aided him in creating a small army of ghouls and skeletons to aid your journey to success.

The two of you first encountered an enormous prison guard, with rather disproportionate genitals, ready to tackle you and destroy you entirely. You were absolutely terrified, stunned and rooted to the spot - Thankfully, the Dark Priest and his powerful dark magic were able to quickly massacre the foe.

To calm you down, Enki cupped your face and planted a soft kiss on your forehead, whispering loving words until he could feel your bode relaxing under his touch, ready to go on with your long and perilous journey.

You scavenged various crates and barrels, finding food, armors and weapons useful for the future, though the two of you still relied on your own powerful magic, and the cannon fodder dead as meat shields.

You killed two dark priests, taking their soul stones and purifying talismans, sacrificing a man and raising affinity with Gro-Goroth, before unsealing the magic door using Counter-Magic and venturing inside where they found a Hexen and learnt Greater blood magic.

In one of the libraries, there weren’t all that many books of interest. Somewhere further along, you found a ritualistic circle painted on the ground with blood, over a carved up symbol of Gro-Goroth. You looked up at Enki, confused, as he studied the book on the pedestal closely.

“Gor-Goroth requires a sacrifice, doesn’t he? And Sylvian wants love. Alll-mer wants prayer, doesn’t he? What are we supposed to do?” you ask, looking down at the intricate circle. “Nothing. I’ll do a quick prayer for the God of Destruction, but nothing more. Get out of that circle right now, I don’t want to risk your safety.” he ushered you away quickly as he prayed, and took you out of that place immediately.

On a book shelf, somewhere up, beyond your reach, Enki found the renowned Necronomicon. With trembling hands and deep excitement, he dares to read the Black Book, and even learns the Black Orb spell. This new-found knowledge only seemed to further excite the Dark Priest, so much so that he smirked with deep triumph.

Probably one of the worst parts of the journey was traversing through the Blood-Flesh pit to get to the prisons and activate the elevator for the ground levels; Honestly, how in the world could such a disgusting thing exist, anyway? Everything was so fleshy, squishy, juicy and revolting, it made your skin crawl.

Out in the courtyard, you found a massive statue of Alll-mer, to which you begrudgingly prayed to, but funny enough, somewhere to the left of the courtyard, a huge orgy was taking place, with a bunch of naked people wearing only bunny masks. They were in a trance-like state, and the act seemed rather painful for the submissive one; It was absolutely terrifying to watch, especially as none were letting out a single noise. It seemed that love for the sake of Sylvian had completely gone corrupted. Seeing how uncomfortable it made you, Enki grabbed your wrist and took you away from there without another word. No Godly Affinity was worth your discomfort.

The next location you went to was the Mines, where you noticed a presence that didn’t seem to indicate any kind of malice. Though Enki was a little more weary, as he felt responsible for your well-being, you found yourself encouraged to step forward and introduce yourself. This man looked very similar to Enki, with long and well-kept hair, pale skin, and a dust-grey priest robe. There was something about his soul also, something familiar, that made you feel you could trust this man called Nosramus.

He, also, had an Enlightened Soul. No wonder you felt at ease in his presence. Enki, also, seemed to be feeling the same way. Nosramus revealed he is an alchemist and he lives in this God-Forsaken place. Unfortunately, he had to run away, as he had forgotten his kettle on. What a shame.

Stumbling around blindly through the mines, you had to battle a rather hostile Yellow Mage, though with some rather cunning talk from Enki, he retriever a rather interesting Talisman, before killing that ridiculous dancing foe.

After defeating the Salmonsnake and a ton of ghosts, passing by the cannibal orgy dedicated to Gro-Goroth, Enki summons a portal passage towards the bridge to Ma’habre, pulling you in with him along the ancient city. Somewhere up in the sky, you could see the ghostly silhouette of the four New Gods, who disappeared one by one, but not before a promise of reunion. You were sent back to the mines after that. What a peculiar manifestation of magic!

You went through a whole city of inoffensive yet rather creepy cave-dwellers before finding your way to attack a huge, armoured Knight and its phantasmal counterpart which blocked the path towards Nosramus’ laboratory. He seemed to greet you with open arms and a genuine smile on his face.

Enki asked him what his studies consisted in, and he claims he studies just about all fields of knowledge, like a true renaissance man would, like blood magic, deities, gods and what not, though now he’s most interested in nature and the heartbeat of the earth. Enki smirked a little, realising that such interest aligns with your own. He seemed rather light-hearted and jovial, joking around about having been around for an eternity, and that this dungeon is vital for his studies. Though, when asked about this particular man, he seemed vague, though he confirmed he must be a few floors below them, and they should hurry.

Emboldened by his affirmation, they returned to the Cave-Dwellers’ village and searched around for clues, until they found a rather intricate and particular artifact in the form of a cube. It was the Cube of the Depths. Unfortunately, as soon as they grabbed it, the otherwise peaceful Cave-Dwellers became hostile and started attacking them once spotted. What a shame.

Once escaped, they found themselves deep inside a rather terrifying thicket, chased around by poisoned mumblers, though here, they found a weird, large, bulbous thing like a chist, pulsating and throbbing. They destroyed it immediately, before going down a hole in the ground, reaching the Level 7 Catacombs and finding another such thing.

Unfortunately, just down that corridor, they found the prison cell where the Man of the Prophecy was being shackled. He was already long dead. They were much too late. They failed the task they set out to. How annoying.

Looking at each other, you and Enki exited the prison cell hand in hand, looking down in disappointment - There was no reason for you to be there anymore, was it? Alas, Enki’s path to Enlightenment was shattered in front of him. Mumbling a few curses, he was deaf to the sound of footsteps approaching. “Nosramus!” Enki was brought back to reality by your sweet voice gasping out the alchemist’s name.

The man seemed to have already guessed the one called Le’Garde was long dead. He must have thought he’d have had a much bigger role in the greater scheme of things, but apparently, not so much. Still, the seed of what he planted continues to grow and branch. Nosramus encouraged you to venture further into the darkness and figure out this enigmatic riddle for yourselves. With you thirst for success, Enki dragged you to a large stone gate, engraved with a variety of runes. He brought out the Cube, and the doors opened, to the Tomb of the Gods. Fantastic! This area looks to be from the distant past, how intriguing!

The Priest rushed with you through the many corridors of the Tomb, until you reached the outside; The darkness was hiding away the city, though with your magic, you could get a small glimpse of the odd architecture of this ancient city. It truly was a work of art and historical fountain.

A little unsure of what to do, you reach a Beacon, which seemed to react to the Cube. It grew taller by a few levels, glowing bright green, and suddenly, you and Enki were in Ma’Habre, now illuminated by the bright daylight. The two of you could only stare in shock and wonder at the sight before your eyes - Neither of you ever thought you would witness such a miracle. You were grateful to Nosramus for his guidance. That man knew so much more than he led on.

The Ancient City was wonderous to explore, and it felt almost as though you were sight-seeing, and you were just a newly-married couple enjoying their honeymoon vacation abroad; Though most of the time, you spent in the Grand Library was the most welcomed, as you found so many long-forgotten books to study. Of course, you found yourself stealing a few of them, eager to take them home, restore them, copy them and place them in your own Rondon Library, to benefit other scholars also.

When you were ready to leave the Library, you got attacked by something that you could only call a giant head with its brain out... And uh... An eye that looks awfully phallic.

After guarding from a headbutt and summoning a blood golem, Enki tries talking some sense to the God of Enlightenment... The great Enlightened Valeil became this weird, huge head. Bewildering. Though he didn’t seem to react to his words, a stream of ideas, concepts and questions fill your head.

“Among us... The new Gods... I am Valteil to the Enlightenment as Francois is to the Domination. Who is Torment...?” the voice inside your head asked. At once, Enki answered correctly, mentioning Chambara’s name. The boss took a good amount of damage. Whilst you kept using defensive and healing spells, the undead army kept attacking, allowing Enki safe space to speak and destroy the boss.

“The dark continent... Whence the darkness slowly leaks to the Western World... Where the day only shines... Eternal darkness and grey gloom... What is it called among the people of Europa?” Enki answered correct with his answer of Vinland, causing the Enlightened One a massive headache.

“We, the new Gods... Whilst still walking among men... Our fellowship, when did we embark on our journey to Ascension?” Year 809 was the correct answer, as expected of someone like your remarkable husband. Valteil’s right hemisphere and that ridiculous eye had been destroyed, and then his left hemisphere also. He remained a hallow skull.

“Alll-mer, the Ascended one... The last of the older Gods. What year marks the birth of his new self?” Year 0 was the right answer, of course, and with that, Valteil was defeated. The head of Valteil the Enlightened One falls down to the darkness from where it once rose. The millennia of wisdom and knowledge that is too much for a normal person to bear passes through your heads. You only get glimpses of what is waiting for you on the other side, but this information stream is too much for your mind to handle. Your head hurts, and you feel a little shaken up. You look at Enki, who’s clutching his head also, yet he seems completely ecstatic with the knowledge that something far greater has just started to change.

The cogs of Fear and Hunger have just began to rotate on a larger scale. You got the Enlightened Soul. Enki’s hand squeezed yours, and it was clear, he’s never been more thrilled than with this experience. For a brief second there, he wanted to regret embarking in such a dangerous adventure, yet now, he was pumped up and ready to learn more.

Traversing back through the intricate library, you found Valteil’s mortal body, strung up at the waist with a rope. He seemed absolutely depressed, saying that mankind has no hope, and that ascension was never the right path. Enki admitted he was also on the path of Enlightenment, to which he was warned not to be fooled by power or blinded by the golden throne. One must admit his own mistakes in order to grow, he said. There was, however, one amongst them who was right, though Valteil hadn’t expanded on that, leaving them with more questions than answers.

Enki found an empty scroll, on which he scribbled a request to Alll-mer, to be taught how to walk on water, so you could return back to where you killed the Salmonsnake and reach the other side of the mines. There, you were met with a menacing lizardman, and a bunch of humans strung upside down. They were skinned and mutilated. Seeing your horrified look, Enki held your hand and rushed through the mines, trying to shield your view from the atrocities.

You reached a sealed door, which Enki unlocked with the use of Counter-magic again, and inside, you found none other than Nosramus himself! What a coincidence! He asked about Valteil, somehow sensing they you met him. When Enki told him that he was regretting his past actions, the Alchemist seemed amused and intrigued. It was the first time he had heard about Valteil admitting his mistakes.

“Nosramus, forgive me for asking, but you were friends, weren’t you? You, and all the others.” Nosramus finds himself smiling a little wider hearing you speak. “Valteil mentioned one of his friends being on the correct path - That must have been you, right?” the Alchemist gave a nostalgic nod of his head, explaining that Valteil’s belief was that one could achieve Enlightenment with a snap of his fingers, if only he Ascended. Of course, a ridiculous idea, and Nosramus, to this day, is still bewildered to how easily his friend fell into that trap. The ultimate truth was just one, that there is no end to the path of Enlightenment. New information, new forms of science, new people, new worlds... The knowledge of the world keeps on increasing. How could you settle down thinking you are at the end of it all, he wondered rhetorically.

“We learn our whole life.” Enki found himself mumbling under his breath, his eyes wide with realisation. That quote made Nosramus smile with pride. Unknown to the alchemist, it was you who once told Enki that little thing, and now, to think some words could mean so much, could hold such value. Enki turned his head to you, and once again, amidst the darkness, he saw you radiating brightly - So bright, in fact, like a muse, like the Sun brightens up the whole world at once.

Nosramus then recommended that Enki sits on the golden throne to meet his reflection - Surely, there will be incredible insight and knowledge, especially of the New Gods, which he could learn. Still, he had to heed caution - If he truly was a scholar of sciences, he must only observe, not surrender to the lust of power, like those before him. Thus, the Alchemist offered him the Spirit Anchor.

Enki was a little too bewildered to speak, and could only watch as you embraced the Alchemist, thanking him for his kindness and benevolence is sharing such a gift with you. “Thank you for all of your help, Nosramus. Without you, I am sure, my husband would never truly be happy. It is through knowledge that he finds happiness - And I can only be happy, when seeing him like this. You have saved him from despair, and from himself. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.” the Forgotten One simply chuckled light-hearted, patting your head as though you were his little sister or daughter, reassuring you it wasn’t a big deal he was doing, before ushering you on your way.

Your radiating smile painted a little colour on Enki’s pale cheeks, and you excitedly grabbed both of his hands, dragging him back to the Blood Portal, so you could return to the Ancient City and continue your fantastic journey. You reached the back alleys of the city, and using a stone, you searched for a safe place to land. Clearly, you couldn’t trust the ghouls to hold a rope for you to descend, so you had to jump and land, albeit a little rough, on a small piece of safe land that reached inside an underground cave. Thankfully, Enki caught you, alleviating the pain of your legs.

This cave was filled to the brim with wooden mannequins and a weird machine which, when adding Enki’s blood, it... Created a human husk in his image. Now, you had a rather awkward Enki, looking with disgust and embarrassment at his naked clone, shamelessly prancing around the place. Your amused giggle only made him huff and look away, grabbing you to move along and exit the cave. 

Climbing up a ladder, with the clone following you, you found yourselves inside the Temple of Torment. The atmosphere was so thick and heavy that you felt compelled to leave for the moment and explore a little more.

You reached the Tower of the Endless, where you found a bed. Weirdly enough, you felt rather safe in this place, as though you could rest a little. You have been running around for so long, that perhaps a little shut-eyes was welcomed. Enki agreed, laying down on the bed, making room for you to cuddle into his side, resting your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat lulling you into a deep, peaceful sleep.

However, weirdly enough, you met inside your joined dream, and you found yourselves in Rondon. Though confused, you found yourselves inside a brothel, seeing a mercenary speak to his prostitute wife about his future job and how he wants to provide for her - It was to rescue the very man they found dead. Next, you had to relieve the moment Enki tried to get himself sacrificed, to which the man in cause took you away, not wanting to have you experiencing such heartbreak a second time.

Walking further, you found yourselves deep inside the Oldegard forests, where you saw an Outlander mourning the death of his comrades who were massacred in a war with the Rondon knights who sought an artifact they found. The Outlander seemed to realise his wife and son were in danger, so he rushed to this barn, on a path soaked in blood and corpses. This man was defeated with the knowledge of his family’s death, and he swore revenge on the monster who did this.

Once the Outlander’s memory disappeared, you and Enki walked inside the barn, seeing a Skin Granny, which you had to fight and defeat through all of her phases - Thankfully, it wasn’t that difficult a fight, thanks to your greater magic proficiency and the many undead fighters shielding you two. Once defeated, you excited the barn, seeing a vision of Le’Garde, the man of the prophecy, speaking to one of his female knights rather cryptically. She seemed completely blinded with love for him, but he was simply using her.

As this memory, too, ended, you were engulfed in nothing but a white light, and a woman, Nilvan the Endless, appeared before you. She caressed her swollen belly, begging you to take her child to the darkness, to save the child, and thus, she offered you the Endless Soul. How amusing though, considering neither of you even encountered a child to begin with, but her soul was more than welcomed.

Refreshed and feeling stronger, mentally and emotionally, you and Enki smoked a little and ate well before returning to the Temple of Torment, ready for an arduous fight. As soon as you enter the Temple, a loud, echoing scream, like that of a man deep in anguish and agony, resounded through the whole place, sending shivers down your neck. It was the most terrifying thing you’ve ever heard, and you instinctively clinged onto Enki’s arm for some comfort.

Somewhere inside a long room, you found a weird torture mechanism, and with a heavy heart, you placed the clone on the hooks, ready to sacrifice the husk - Though Enki didn’t seem the least bit disturbed at seeing his own mirror image being tortured to the point of having his skin painfully ripped apart by the hooks, you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at it, your heart shattering as the skeletons kept rotating the wheels.

The Red Man continued shrieking loudly as blood streamed everywhere through the temple, and the deep pit was now full with blood, from which the Tormented One emerged silently. Defeating him once was easy, though the New God succumbed deep inside the pool of blood, as a terrible sensation filled you, as if something was about to happen that should forever remain unknown to human eyes. Thus, he emerged one again, in the middle of three spiky wheels of torment swinging around their axis. One by one, they jammed and destroyed the horrific wheels, and their suffering God, until they all sank into the pool of blood as quietly as when they rose from it. 

Though it was a terrifying sight and battle, you feel as if a millennia of torment just slipped before your eyes. You feel sorry for this tormented deity, though Enki not so much. Regardless, you gain the third soul, the Tormented Soul.

Thus, you return to the City Center of Ma’habre, ready to defeat the guard blocking your path from entering the Golden Temple. Inside the Temple, you found an older version of Francois the Dominating, and you engaged in a rather interesting conversation with him, who advised you on how to defeat his younger, more cocky self. After killing the last purple, throbbing heart, you return into the past of the Ancient City, using the Cube of the Depths, ready to defeat the last God.

You found Francois sitting on the golden throne, speaking down on you as though you were vermin or even less. Thankfully, with the use of the old Francois and some cunning speech, you were able to destroy his younger self’s ego enough to make him reckless and vulnerable and destroy him forever, taking his Dominating Soul.

Looking at the golden throne, you felt your body softly trembling, before shifting your gaze towards your lover. You threw your arms around him, bringing him into a tight embrace, confession your love for him over and over and over again, your eyes stinging with tears of sheer fear. Enki simply cupped your face and pulled you into a deep, loving kiss. 

It was the first time Enki ever truly told you ‘I love you’.

He tried to tell you he will return to you, but something caught in his throat, rendering him unable to promise something like that. Instead, he felt an electrifying feeling down his spine, and not even once did you break eye contact, as he slowly sat down on the throne of the New Gods.

A bright light engulfed you, and surprisingly, you found yourself in an incomprehensible dimension or world, transported by the throne. Enki was still sitting, while you stood in front of him, both of you deeply confused. Hand in hand, you and the undead army searched for a path towards... Who knew?

As you stepped in the middle of a bridge that separated two large bodies of lands, something started slowly rising from the green hue. Coiling, slimy tentacles were dancing above the green smoke, before the monolithic creature slowly rose from inside the green fog. You and Enki looked at one another, unable to properly comprehend what were you battling, yet you knew, the being before you had tremendous power. 

This creature was the Goddess of Life and Love, Sylvian. Tentacles slammed and swirled around in an erratic manner, damaged the protecting undead and blood golems. Suddenly, you noticed the creature growing a large tumor in a humanoid shape, and it was wriggling in pain.

With great difficulty, you managed to cut the four tentacles lashing out at you and the humanoid tumour, before finally descending back into the green smokes, letting you go in peace. What a relief. Battling an Old God took its toll on you two, and you needed a few seconds of respiro, smoking some opium, before finding some strength in your feet to walk forward and have... A New God, oddly resembling Enki, with a cage on his head, greeting you.

“Knowledge... It suffocates those who are not able to adjust to it. I could not bear the world with everything I’ve learned with the Enlightenment and my Ascension. It is said that ignorance is bliss and knowledge only enhances the pain. The only way for me to continue existing was to change. Knowledge changes one permanently. There is no looking back after a certain point.” the reflection of Enki spoke to him in a monotone voice.

That reflection was what he was to become. He felt great lust for power take over him - It would have been so easy to give in and learn secrets that are only whispered among mortals - But he came prepared, and had been warned about such lust; Not only that, a single look into your eyes was enough to remind him of his true purpose, his true happiness. He didn’t want to end up like Valteil, trapping himself in the corner, with nothing left to do but rot away, forgotten by the world. No, he was destined for so much more - Though a mortal, he felt content continuing his path towards Enlightenment with you by his side. 

You declined the Godhood and managed to step out of the plane of the ascended that was coloured by the green hue that radiated from the underground pits. It’s not like your ascension wasn’t without its merits, even if you withdrew at the last second. You saw the reflection after all and understood its intents. With newly found knowledge, he took the grand libraries of the ancient city as his own, and once he was done with a book, he would pass it on to you, to read, copy and restore, so that you could make your own Great Library of Rondon the most Enlightened one in the whole world. The Enlightened Library.

Thankfully, the library of Ma’habre already contained more information than one could digest in multiple lifetimes, yet lucky for you, Enki, with a little help from Nosramus, discovered the secrets of a prolonged life pretty soon.

You found out how the older Gods had left this world long ago. You had taken care of the New Gods that resided in the city of the Gods. Enki did not need Godhood to chase after the true Enlightenment. He did not need Godhood to become the most powerful mortal to exist. 

He already WAS the most accomplished mortal that ever was, and will ever be. 

And with your Radiating warmth, love, beauty and support, along with his new-found friend, the Alchemist Nosramus, the Forgotten One, life has become a truly happy bliss.

[lathalea]

Entangled 2/10

The first question I'd like to ask you today is: Do you remember a little fic called The Best Day of My Life I wrote a while back? Don't worry, me neither ;) It simmered in my head and what started off as a standalone ficlet, grew into something bigger. Back then, it was written in the first-person narrative, but as it grew into a longer story in my head, I decided to change the subsequent chapters to the third-person perspective. This story was born from an inspiration I found when researching certain medieval traditions, especially when it comes to arranged marriages in royal families, and the role women played in these arrangements. It inspired me to wonder what it would look like in Dwarven societies of Middle Earth. I hope you enjoy it! Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Dwarf OFC (The Hobbit) Rating: G (subject to change) Warnings: ANGST Summary: Arranged marriages are common among the dwarven nobility. After reclaiming the Lonely Mountain, the Kingdom Under the Mountain needs to be rebuilt. Thorin agrees to marry a lady from the Blue Mountains, securing a mutually beneficial alliance with the Broadbeam Dwarves. Lady Mista is said to be a practical and hard-working dwarf-woman, willing to give him an heir who would secure the line of succession. A decent queen material, his advisors say. If only Thorin could let go of his past… You can find this fic on AO3 (search for lathalea). Special thanks for @legolasbadass for all your help and support 💙 ✨ Chapter list: Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 ... ✨ Entangled Masterlist

Khuzdul: Azsâlul'abad - the Lonely Mountain (both the mountain and the dwarven kingdom known among Elves and Men as Erebor) Uzbad ra zabdûna undu ‘Urd - King and Queen Under the Mountain

TA 2942, one year after the Reclamation of Azsâlul'abad

“Your Majesty, My Lady, brothers and sisters in stone, we have all eagerly waited for this moment,” The High Priest’s sonorous voice rang out in the festively decorated Great Hall of the Lonely Mountain. “May the Pleating Ceremony commence!”

It was happening. 

Mista swallowed. It felt as if the eyes of every single person present in the cavern were on her. As instructed earlier, Mista took off the veil that had covered her hair which was unbraided and adorned only with minuscule diamonds, and stepped stiffly towards the King. Her hands were clammy, and she tried not to stumble. The slippers and the opulent ceremonial gown she wore were incredibly uncomfortable and heavy. What a blunder it would be if she landed on the floor face down at that very moment! The court etiquette did not forbid her to wear her glasses, so at least she could see her surroundings clearly… including the crowds that gathered for the ceremony in the Great Hall. 

Closing her eyes, she focused on her breathing, then something brushed against her temple. Mista flinched like a startled pony.

“No need to be alarmed, My Lady.” A low, rumbling murmur reached her ears. It was the King’s voice; she could have recognized his calm, confident manner everywhere. “Allow me to choose a suitable lock of your hair.” “By all means, Your Majesty,” Mista mumbled, feeling how close he stood to her, his arm brushing against hers, and how his fingers slowly ran through her hair. She did not know that a male touch could be so gentle. The only people allowed to touch her hair before this day were her mother, sister, and personal maid.

“Thank you, My Lady. Would you allow me to compliment you?” the King said and, not waiting for her reply, he  added. “I do not think I have seen such exquisite hair before.”

“I… thank you, Your Majesty,” she whispered, attempting to calm herself. Did the King himself truly think her hair was exquisite? A realisation dawned upon her. Of course not; he must have referred to its uncommon length, that was all. It was the only source of Mista’s pride — perhaps the colour of her hair was plain and common, but she had always kept it long, and currently it reached almost to her knees. And now, the King’s nimble fingers ran through it, once, twice, and then began pleating her hair slowly, each of his movements deliberate. It was a surprisingly pleasant sensation, but even then, she did not dare to open her eyes especially when the tips of his fingers lightly brushed against her cheek, making her tremble at the sensation.

“It may help you to imagine that there is only you and me here.” His quiet voice reached her again. 

“Pardon?” Mista’s breath hitched.

“During straining official functions I tend to imagine that there are only stone statues around me, carved in amusing poses. It helps to tackle the nerves.”

Mista’s eyes fluttered open and met the King’s azure gaze. An encouraging smile danced on his lips moments before he returned to braiding.

“I did not know someone like you could feel… nervous, Your Majesty,” she heard herself say.

“My coronation felt ten times worse than facing the enemy during the Battle of the Five Armies.” His reply made Mista chuckle. His smile widened, making his handsome face even more alluring. For a heartbeat, she forgot how to breathe, simply staring at him. 

Click.

The King clasped his bead around her new braid. Gold encrusted with onyx contrasted with the plainness of her mousy hair, but the pattern made it somehow more refined. She took the braid into her hand and admired its even, elegant weaves.

“It is beautiful, Your Majesty,” she whispered.

The King gave her a thankful nod. Mista felt his intent gaze on her. His Durin’s apple bobbed. Something was not right… Why were his features so tense?

It took her a moment to understand. With her cheeks burning, she took a step towards him. How could she have forgotten that now it was her turn?

“May I…?” Her voice failed her, but no words were necessary. The King lowered his head towards her, his hair flowing freely in front of her eyes. 

With trembling fingers, she picked a thick lock of hair on his left temple and divided it into four parts. His hair was smooth and thick, making her think of a wolf’s fur, but it smelled like sweet oils from faraway lands in the South. Mista wanted to keep on braiding it for as long as she could. She thanked Mahal that she knew her personal pattern by heart — otherwise, she would have surely entangled his hair or ended up with a bunch of knots instead of the braid. Focused on plaiting it, she forgot about everything around her — there was only the King, Thorin, the Dwarf who unknowingly captured her heart a long time ago. Now, with every weave, she was willingly bestowing her whole self upon him.

Her bead was made of bronze and tiny sapphires from the Blue Mountains. For some reason, it refused to close around the King’s braid, making Mista sigh, but then one of his large, warm hands encircled her fingers that held the bead, and pressed it harder together. 

Click.

It was done.

Mista’s heart beat faster and faster as the King Under the Mountain took her hands into his. They were facing each other in a way that allowed everyone gathered in the Great Hall to see them from the side.

“Foreheads,” the High Priest whispered, barely moving his lips, holding something in his hands that glinted in the light of hundreds of lanterns.

The King squeezed her hands gently and lowered himself towards her once more. Mista took a deep breath and stood on her tiptoes so that their foreheads could meet.

His skin was pleasantly warm against hers, his nose brushed against hers, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. Instinctively, she closed her eyes, but the last thing she saw were his lips, slightly parted, and so close, so very close to hers, and there was his beard too, and she wondered how it would feel if…

“What Mahal has joined over the marriage anvil, no power shall break apart until the end of days,” the High Priest exclaimed, his voice loud and clear, like the sound of a gunmetal bell, drowning all of her inappropriate thoughts. 

“Thorin, son of Thrain, Mista, daughter of Milva, you are now husband and wife. Uzbad ra zabdûna undu ‘Urd!”

Loud cheers filled the spacious cavern as the white-bearded priest bound their hands together with a thin but unbreakable mithril chain — a symbol of the eternal bond they forged a moment ago. This was one of the most revered traditions of Mahal’s Children: Dwarves married only once. Mista read a treaty once that explained the origin of this ancient tradition: one of the oldest Dwarven legends said that each of the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves had one spouse, and that each couple was made from one piece of stone, destined to be always together, as one mind, body, and heart. A long time had passed since Mista was an overly romantic lass who believed that each Dwarf had their beloved Other Half somewhere in the world. Now she was over one hundred and thirty years old, and during her lifetime, she saw too many dalliances, clandestine affairs, and broken promises to believe that her people were capable of loving only once and only the right person. Dwarves were a fiery race, with molten lava running in their veins rather than cold pieces of rock. Nevertheless, their marriages were the cornerstones of society, crucially important to every family, and so a wedded couple was supposed to be like a rock: steady and unbreakable. That was Mahal’s will, as the priests said. Therefore, the dissolution of marriage was impossible. If a Dwarf broke their marital vows — which, as dishonourable as it was, happened from time to time — they would still remain married to their spouse. Even death did not end it, as her people believed that they would remain married even in the afterlife, in the Halls of Awaiting. That was why Dwarven courtship would often last many years so that the future spouses had ample time to know each other well before they made this irreversible decision.

Mista’s courtship lasted one month. That was how much time Lord Tair, her father, needed to finalise negotiations with the King Under the Mountain. During that time, she never saw her future husband. That was to be expected — the Blue Mountains were almost half a world away from King Thorin II’s kingdom, Azsâlul'abad. Instead, his envoys arrived with the marriage contract signed in his own hand and a chest filled with customary gifts for his future bride: jewellery, hair combs, and a traditional courtship cloak. There was also a letter addressed to her. It contained all the obligatory niceties along with His Majesty’s apology for his absence due to the fact that his kingdom was being rebuilt and needed all of his attention at the moment. He assured his bride, however, that he was looking forward to meeting her in person and offering her as much hospitality as he had received in Tumunzahar years ago.

He remembered.

Over one hundred years had passed, and he still remembered his visit to her home city. Precisely like Mista. She never forgot how gallant and handsome he was, how his words dried her tears, and how he made her feel as if she, the ugliest girl at the feast, were the only woman in the whole world.

Perhaps that mawkish idea of Dwarves finding their Other Halves was not true, but she was certain of one thing: she still loved the same Dwarf as she did all those years ago. Her heart belonged to Thorin Oakenshield.

And now she was his wife. Her eyes were still set on the glistening links of the mithril chain that joined her hands when she heard the High Priest’s words.

“My King, My Queen.” He bowed with reverence, “It is time for your wedding feast.”

The only thing she could think of at that very moment was how good her hand felt in her lord husband’s reassuring hold.

***

The feast that celebrated their nuptials was an event like no other. Mista had never seen any revelries that were full of equal splendour. Countless guests from all seven dwarven realms were entertained by minstrels, musicians, dancers, and other performers. The food was delicious; wine and other liquors flowed endlessly, like the River Running, and everyone was merry. Mista sat on a grand chair placed on the King’s right hand. Now, both of them wore their crowns and royal insignia, and together, as the newlywed ruling couple of the Kingdom Under the Mountain, they accepted countless toasts and congratulations from the well-wishers throughout the evening. Mista tried her best to act with decorum worthy of the queen she had become hours ago, and she even managed to appear unflustered whenever the customary “May Mahal bless your union with countless heirs!” reached her ears. 

From time to time she managed to steal a glance at the King’s – her new husband’s – majestic profile, struggling to believe that this day was not a dream. But then she remembered the marriage braid hanging at her temple – and a similar braid in his hair. She truly was the great Thorin Oakenshield’s wife.

It was two bells after midnight when the weariness started to creep up on her.

“Is the feast to your liking, lady Mista?” the King turned to her, clearly noticing her attempt at stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it is! Forgive me, the celebrations took a toll on me, I’m afraid,” she explained, feeling the growing heaviness of her crown on her temples.

“It is perfectly understandable,” Princess Dis, the King’s sister, said. “It has been a long day. Perhaps it is time for you to repose.”

“May I…? Does the protocol allow it?” Mista took a hopeful look around the Great Hall where the feast was as lively as it was at its very beginning.

“May I remind you that now you are the Queen?” the King offered. “You may leave whenever you wish to do so.”

“And my brother will accompany you,” Princess Dis interjected, and then addressed the King. “Tonight you are only allowed to leave together.”

Mista caught a strange look they exchanged, and – after a noticeable pause – King Thorin said, “Very well.”

“Shall we, then?” He rose from his chair and held out his hand to Mista.

Leaving the Great Hall was not as easy a task as Mista expected. They had to endure another round of the official farewells, wedding toasts and felicitations from their numerous guests.

“Have a wonderful night!” Princess Dis exclaimed in a sing-song voice as they were stepping over the threshold.

“Aye, and a long one, too!” Dwalin, the King’s Captain, added, and they both laughed.

Their words sounded innocently enough for Mista at first, but they made the King clear his throat in visible embarrassment. 

And then it dawned on Mista. One more thing awaited her.

The wedding night.

✨ Chapter list: Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 ... ✨ Masterlist 💙💙💙 Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💙💙💙

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[downtherabbithole-tumbleedition]

Sorry for the late reply.

But can I request a playtonic yandere Alduin x daughter Dragon Born reader

Like the reader Dragon soul is his daughter that died years ago but got reborn as a Dragon born dark elf. And when he realized it his daughter reborn he trys to trun her down a dark path and make him Join his side. Please.

And if you can't do it I can think of something else. This just been on my mind lately

Mockingbird

(Yandere! Platonic! Father! Alduin x Dragonborn! Reader)

“And if you ask me to

Daddy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird, I’ma give you the world

I’ma buy a diamond ring for you, I’ma sing for you

I’ll do anything for you to see you smile.

And if that mockingbird don’t sing

And that ring don’t shine

I’d go back to the jeweller who sold it to ya

And make him eat every carat, don’t fuck with dad.”

- Mockingbird, Eminem.

Dragons did not love. Love was for mortals, for lesser beings who lived only a short life where they could freely give their heart to another with no thought of what eternity meant.

Alduin was as old as time itself, the all mighty world eater who cared only for the power he held. Nothing could sway his cold, black heart - not his brothers, the female dovah he laid with, of the endless amount of mortals he devoured.

But you were so tiny, so fragile - one of his nails would have been enough to end your vulnerable little life. And yet, he found himself not desiring your death, perhaps even feeling sick at the thought of it.

The mortal form was an ancient secret among dragon kind, often used to communicate with dragon priests and blend in among mortals when necessary. Alduin despised to use it and thought dragons who used it often to be weak. However, a benefit of such a form was an easier and faster birth for female dragons, perhaps safer as well.

In dragon form, the female would pass the egg as soon as her body allowed, forcing her to guard her offspring for as long as it took to hatch. It could be an especially daunting time, even more so when the female and male hadn’t mated for life. As distasteful as it was, pregnancy was a far safer process for both the mother and offspring if she stayed in her mortal form until the young could leave the womb.

Alduin had never found a dovah worthy enough to be deemed his life partner, but it was awfully satisfying to see how many would throw themselves at his feet just to be mounted by him. Your mother had been one of those - just another female Alduin had fucked and discarded, most likely not even bothering to satisfy her. He had done it countless times, nothing should have been different.

And yet, somehow, his seed had taken root in her womb and made you.

When she came again at his feet, she was foolish enough to believe the seed in her womb would force Alduin to make her his mate.

“Your young is inside me!” She had exclaimed, clutching her stomach, still in her distasteful mortal form. “You and I shall be bound for life!”

He had laughed her at then, a cruel and malicious sound that had snuffed any hope from her eyes, leaving only fear. Alduin did not tolerate insubordination, planning to kill her and the infernal young that grew inside her.

Odahviing, his general and right hand man, had stopped him - much to Alduin’s rage. The general had claimed that killing her would be foolish when Alduin needed an heir, and she seemed the only dovah that had ever been able to carry Alduin’s young successfully.

Alduin was not convinced, countering that he would never cease to exist and, therefore, no heir was needed. Odahviing had his reply, however, stating something along the lines of the bloodline needing to spread if Alduin wanted to rule other worlds.

Although he found it suspicious that Odahviing was fighting so hard to keep the offspring alive, Alduin humoured him - both from the begrudging urge to have young, and morbid curiosity to see if the female would even survive carrying the world eater’s child.

Just as Alduin had suspected, the female did not survive the birth. How could she when you carved your way out from her insides, leaving only a bloody and mangled mess in her place? Begrudgingly, Alduin felt the prick of pride of his young being entering the world with blood on her hands.

He’d planned to kill you, he truly had… but then you looked at him with eyes as red as his own, your cries calming immediately at his touch. So delicate, so trusting.

Every mortal disgusted him but, there you were, born in your mortal form and… disgustingly adorable.

Tomorrow, he told himself every day when the sun set, failing once again to rid you from the earth. Tomorrow the girl will die. But you never did and, before he knew it, you were talking, walking on your own two feet and hanging off the world eaters wings and horns as if he couldn’t kill you in a breath.

“Can we fly now?” You’d always ask him, picking up the ancient language easily from constant interactions with Odahviing and Parthunax. They were the only other living souls he trusted around you, and even that had very quick limits.

“Entitled girl,” he’d grumble, annoyed at your constant requests at him. But, by the end of the day, you were on his back and he was gliding through the air. “I will throw you off if you do not hold on,” he’d threaten. That did not affect you, however, continuously throwing your arms in the air.

Supposedly, you grew bored of “tame” flights in the air, wanting to find your own wings. Alduin’s heart was in his throat when he no longer felt the tiny wait on his back, watching with wide eyes as you plummeted to the ground.

He roared, loud enough to disturb the mountains, chasing after you as fast as his wings would allow. Thank Akatosh he had caught you before you hit the ground. Alduin doubted the world wanted to know what he’d do if he had lost you.

“Are you a FOOL?!” He’d yelled in anger as soon as you arrived home, smoke coming from his mouth due to the rage that rang through him.

“I just wanted to fly, like you,” you replied, far too calm for someone who had practically been on death’s doorstep.

Initially, Alduin had been enraged and frustrated that you had never turned to your dovah form - your true form. The world eater found himself constantly questioning what value you held if you remained in a lesser mortal form ever, wondering if he should kill you and try again.

However, he very quickly became thankful that you seemed unable to become a dragon - after all, you couldn’t leave him if you were entirely reliant on his protection, right? When you grew up and no longer desired to stay by his side at all times, he could simply lock you up in the highest point of the world, away from the all the dangers and unknowns of the world. Your only visitor and protection being Alduin.

After your little jumping stunt, he pondered locking you away from the world early.

“I’m sorry,” you had told him that night, hiding under his wing as you always did when you were scared or sad. “I won’t do it again.”

No, his plan would wait; you weren’t even trying to get away from him yet, why should he make you hate him so soon?

Alduin did not know gentleness or love or affection but he tried his very best to be those things with you, because you relied on him and were the only thing in this world that wasn’t afraid of him. If dragons loved one thing aside from themselves, it was their treasure, and you were the most precious treasure in the world.

But all good things come to an end and any remorse Alduin had inside him was ripped out when the mortals rebelled.

When they took you from him.

He had been so distracted with their rebelling - forcing his hand to the point of anger - that he left his largest vulnerability opened. Someone among Alduin had betrayed him and you were stolen from him. His blood turning to ice when he realised his most precious treasure was gone.

Relentlessly, Alduin and his army had searched the earth for you, burning cities and devouring armies in his unbridled rage. Until you were returned to him, the mortals would know fear like never before.

But when he found you, your head had been stuck on a pike, hanging up like a trophy in one of the mortal camps.

The world burned.

By the time the elder scroll had been used, most of the world had already been destroyed - abolished and devoured by Alduin’s sorrowful rampage, the dragon king running entirely on revenge.

A small part of him wished the mortals had just killed him so he could once again see his precious treasure.

———

About 5000 years later…

They called you a cursed child.

About ten years ago, you had been found by a mercenary, wandering around in the snow in one of Skyrim’s most isolated and dangerous places. Thankfully, he had been one of those honourable mercenaries (as opposed to those who would have sold you) and took you to an orphanage.

You couldn’t have been any older than eight. It wasn’t exactly out of the norm for the people of Skyrim to abandon their children at an orphanage, but a child surviving the harsh dangers of the mountains for divines knew how long… now that was strange. Stranger when you held no memories of your life or family, not even a name.

What really set you aside from the others, however, were your blood red eyes.

Perhaps the mercenary - having seen all sorts of strange things across Skyrim - thought nothing of them but the people at the orphanage certainly had opinions.

“She’s a demon!” One caretaker had exclaimed, pointing at you with a trembling finger and wide fearful, eyes.

“Kill the vampire!” Another had demanded, believing whole-heartedly you were a blood sucker.

It wasn’t long before the guards had been called, many wanting to see you hung for being a “demonic child”. Luckily, the mercenary had vouched for you, explaining that he had traveled with you for weeks and you hadn’t harmed him. As it was, the guards wrote off the caretakers as “emotional women” and left you unharmed - not without some searing glares, however.

Even if they couldn’t have you burned at the stake, the orphanage wouldn’t accept you and they were under no legal obligation to. So, the mercenary took you to Riften at the temple of Mara - where everyone was reasonably tolerable - and the two of you parted ways.

Priest Maramal was nice enough, being a Redguard in Skyrim he was more than used to jeers and harassment thrown his way. You couldn’t complain about the temple, not when you were given shelter, food, and a bed - which was a lot more than some of the people in Skyrim - but you couldn’t sit still, something in your bones told you to explore, to conquer.

By thirteen, you had pickpocketed earned enough money to leave the temple of Mara.

Skyrim was rough, but you adapted fairly easily. You’d always been strong, even as a child, fast too. Due to your sharp tongue (that Maramal often said you needed to hold if you didn’t want to end up dead), you wound up in a lot of scrapes. If you couldn’t fight your way out of them, you could usually run away.

You circled back to Riften soon enough, gaining entry to the Thieve’s Guild due to light feet and quick fingers. You thought you had found a family within the guild but when you were partnered with Vex and there was a spiky situation… she left you for dead. You got out alive - because you always did - but there was an anger towards the Thieve’s Guild you couldn’t contain. You didn’t go back but, one day, you planned to get you revenge.

At sixteen, you’d somehow stumbled your way to getting Astrid’s attention, granting you entry into the Dark Brotherhood family.

It was different from the guild - somehow warmer, more like a family. Astrid was like an older sister, Nazir like an uncle, Veezera like a cranky grandpa. You’d never felt so loved.

But Astrid set you up and, before you knew it, you were in a wagon trailing to the execution block. It didn’t matter; two families had betrayed you (three if you count the first one that abandoned you) and you had nothing left in your heart.

You witnessed something scarier than death that day, however - fear incarnate. Dragons had always been legends but you never believed you’d see one so close. So angry.

Death wasn’t ready for you, it seemed, because you got away.

Not long after, you killed a dragon and absorbed its soul, the myth of the Dragonborn reviving with the dragons. How amusing it was, to watch those nords be outraged at the thought of the “cursed child” being the living version of their most worshipped legend.

They all wished to be the Dragonborn, and yet that honour was given to a girl with blood red eyes and hatred in her heart.

The Greybeards were boring and the Blades were annoying but Parthunax, well, he piqued your interest. Often times, he spoke to you like you were an old friend rather than a naive Dragonborn he had never met before.

It only became clear when Alduin attacked you and Parthunax on the throat of the world, his teeth and flames out for blood.

“Your arrogance will get you killed,” Maramal had often said, when you thought you could do anything. Maybe you should have listened more.

Stupidly, you thought you could defeat Alduin easily. You were, after all, the one thing that could kill him, right? That’s what was foretold so what did you have to be afraid of?

You had used the Dragonrend shout on Alduin, forcing the world eater to the ground. Parthunax had yelled at you to stop but you ran at the black dragon anyways, sword at the ready to slash his throat. It seemed Alduin had adapted much quicker to the shout, though, catching your sword in his teeth and flying up into the sky.

He dropped you.

Honestly, it was a little humiliating that he didn’t even have to use fire or anything of significance… all he had to do was render you useless by dropping you.

Your helmet fell from your face as you fell, unfortunately giving Alduin a perfect view of your helpless and fearful face.

His eyes are red, like mine, you thought, mind trying to escape the thoughts of death. You wanted to scold yourself for being pathetic when a tear fell down your face, realising your life was over before you did anything significant.

Or so you thought.

———

You woke up with a pounding headache, which was strange considering you didn’t recall falling asleep. You groaned with grogginess, snuggling into the comfortable bed.

Wait… I don’t have a comfortable bed.

You bolted upright, heart pumping with fear as you took in the unfamiliar surroundings. The room was huge, larger than courtroom in the Palace of Kings, made entirely of stone and gold. There were books, furniture, decor but it was all extremely mismatched and unfamiliar. As if from an ancient and unknown time.

The oddest thing, however, was that there were only three walls. There was no wall in front of her bed, only a hole big enough for a dragon to fit through.

Why did Alduin save me? You wondered. What could he gain from bringing me here?

You held back a gasp when you heard a noise and saw a man sitting in one of the chairs, staring at you with eyes as red as blood. He stood when your eyes met, taller than anyone else you had ever seen, armour pitch black and spiky.

He looked oddly familiar.

Idly, he looked around the large room with an almost reminiscent gaze. “I should have locked you in here from the beginning,” he muttered with an impossibly deep voice, barley loud enough for her to hear.

You didn’t know what he was talking about but you knew you needed to get out of there. On your left, you spied a gold dagger - not extremely sharp but it should have been enough to injure him.

“Do not try that,” he rumbled when you made the slightest movement, making you whip your head back to him. “Even if you could hurt me, you are far too high up to ever escape safely, little one.”

“Why am I here?” You demanded.

He looked at you then, and you realised, without a doubt, that he was Alduin. That only made the situation even more confusing.

“You are safe here,” he said, as if it was nothing less than a fact. “You can despise me but I will not risk your safety for your happiness ever again.”

“Aren’t you the one who wants me dead?” You questioned dryly, still internally gawking at the fact you were having a conversation with the world eater.

The bastard chuckled. “You really have no idea, do you?”

You only have him a confused look.

“Why would I ever kill my only child?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, blood turning to ice at his words.

“You’re lying.

“An immortal being has no reason to lie.”

You raced to the gold dagger, gripping it in your hand and throwing at Alduin. He barley needed to move to dodge it, the puny attack having no affect on him.

He left after that, claiming you needed to “calm yourself”. You spent hours exploring the place, restlessly searching for a way out that wouldn’t leave you plastered on the ground.

You didn’t know how long you had been there but eventually, he had come back and you attacked him once more, making him leave again. That cycle repeated itself until you were tired, disheartened by how unaffected he was.

“What do you want from me?” You asked him one day, when you had curled into yourself out of pure exhaustion. He had no answer.

Your numbing limbo changed one day, though. Your armour, light as it was, was stiffening your joints. You stripped out of it, leaving you in the simple clothes you had underneath.

Alduin visited you, like normal, but when you turned your back to him, he roared in anger and his eyes glowed red.

“Who did this to you?” He demanded, voice deeper and louder in his dragon form.

You were confused for a moment, having sported no knee injuries since being abducted. But then you remembered the deep, numerous scars on your back - a reminder of Astrid’s intense training. She once said it was necessary if you were to become strong and you thought she cared about you… but now you wondered if she just always hated you.

Despite yourself, you told Alduin. He was the world eater - evil and deadly, the very thing you were supposed to kill… but he was also the only being who had ever looked upon your wounds, your suffering, and given a damn. And, if he was to he believe?d, he was your father, why shouldn’t you tell him?

It was a strange relief to tell someone else your woes, to unleash the many stories of sufferings and betrayal you had faced. By the end of it, you had tears down your face.

Alduin said nothing, oddly calm. Perhaps, he didn’t care.

“Get on.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, confused as to what he meant.

“Get on my back.”

Still confused, you listened to him, hauling yourself up onto his back and grasping at his spikes so you didn’t fall.

Flying was exhilarating, freedom like you had never known it. You had the urge to spread your arms and feel the wind but Alduin snapped at you when you did.

“Where are we going?” You asked, having to yell so you could be heard over the wind.

“To get revenge.”

When you had told him what had happened to you, it wasn’t your intention for him to burn down Riften. And by all accounts, you should’ve climbed off his back and fought him, made him stop. But… no one in Riften gave a half damn about you. They saw you as the cursed child, a blight on Skyrim.

There was terrible feeling of glee as you watched the wooden houses burn.

You hunted down the Dark Brotherhood after that, adorning your armour and sword, taking a great joy in watching Astrid choke on her own blood.

You knew this wasn’t what the Dragonborn was made more, quite the opposite, but could you be considered the hero of Skyrim when Skyrim hated you? When all you had been given was betrayal and suffering?

You didn’t just let Alduin get away with drowning the cities in fire and blood, you helped him.

The Blades watched in horror as their noble hero was tainted with the blood of the innocent, the Greybeards mourning the prodigy that never was.

Maybe you should have felt guilt but you didn’t really give a damn.

Your blood told you to conquer, so that’s what you did.

———

Alduin feared his daughter would forever be corrupted with ideas of killing him, that she had been manipulated to the point of no return.

Perhaps he should have thanked Skyrim for being so horrible to her - what was it they said? The child that is not embraced by the village will burn it down Yo feel it’s warmth.

The world eater was filled with pride as he watched you slaughter the mortals, the lesser beings who should have known better than to lay a finger on you. If his pride allowed him, he would have thanked Odahviing for making him keep you alive.

Alduin savoured these moments of rage and fire, devouring with his daughter at his side…. Because it would never happen again.

When you had had your revenge and Skyrim had paid the price for disrespecting you, he’d take you back to that tower and ensure you never left.

Perhaps you’d go back to hating him but how could he risk it? How could he risk losing you after he just got you back? Akatosh had given him a gift of mercy in bringing you back to life, and it was not a gift Alduin would waste.

Perhaps in a few centuries, when you were strong enough to defend yourself and smart enough not to be betrayed, you could go free.

No. Alduin truly didn’t believe he could willingly let you back to those wolves in such a vulnerable state. When you could leave on your own, when you had completed your transformation into a dovah, Alduin would do nothing to stop you from conquering the world yourself.

Of course, Alduin prayed to Akatosh that day would never come.

——

I don’t know how that was but I hope you enjoyed. I feel like I rushed the ending a bit lol.

I took some creative liberty with your suggestion so sorry about that.

[yanderes-galore]

aw shit- I have to send my request early cuz i'll be very busy T.T

Uhm,, can I request a yandere concept for my girl Marina from Fear & Hunger 2: Termina?

I love Marina sm... Here you go :)

Yandere! Marina Domek Concept

Pairing: Platonic -> Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Mind reading, Manipulation, Overprotective/Possessive behavior, Violence, Blood, Religion, Dark themes, Murder, Dubious companionship/relationship.

Marina was born in the Church of All-Mer.

Since birth she was connected to Prehevil, even if her mother tried to hide her away from the duties of becoming a Dark Priest.

Marina was often taught to camouflage and act around others.

She can read their mind and is capable of magic due to being an occultist.

She originally left Prehevil to flee from her father.

She was not welcome there... Yet years later she's called back for an event beyond her control.

Marina is described as curious and informal when speaking.

She freely speaks her mind and is very knowledgeable about Prehevil, more so than most of the other contestants.

She hates this place... But finds something, or someone, interesting within it.

Marina meets you during the twisted Termina festival.

Soon afterwards she begins to see you as an ally when you reach out to speak with her outside of the train.

You're curious of this place but Marina can also see the fear in your eyes.

You need guidance... Guidance she can provide.

Marina doesn't formally join your party until later.

However, she does speak with you outside of the train.

You intrigue her... The fact you're so curious about her is cute.

You want to know about Prehevil and Marina's knowledge in blood magic.

Marina does her best to indulge you, even smiling and giggling a couple times as you talk.

She really wants to consider you a friend.

I imagine you don't see Marina again until you either save her from the Mayor's House or meet her at the Bookstore.

I like to imagine your party members are Levi and O'saa, although you could have anyone.

Marina just has the most dialogue with those two I think.

Marina is thankful if you save her, in fact her obsession may be faster after this.

Even though you don't see her until later, Marina isn't actually that far from you.

I think (haven't actually played the game) she has Mind Read similar to Samarie, if not... disregard the next few sentences.

Marina may secretly use Mind Read while stalking you.

She's curious and wants to know your thoughts on this place.

Not only that... but how are you getting along with the others?

Eventually she'll meet you again at the Book Store, pretending she wasn't snooping.

The Book Store becomes a pleasant place to meet, Marina perking up when she sees you again.

She knew you'd come here... but still...

Upon meeting her again you offer her to join your party.

Theoretically you should have a slot by this point... which allows Marina to become a valuable part of your team.

Marina, as an occultist, is skilled in many different types of magic.

Be it Pyromancy Trick or creating Ritual Circles... she's skilled in her craft.

Plus, Marina often makes conversation with you about Prehevil.

If you have Levi too, the two most likely join in with one another.

Marina isn't very physically strong but she makes up for it with magic.

Her basic weapon is a knife and she admits she's used to utilizing magic more than anything.

Marina would want to be open with her darling eventually.

Especially if you heard her father... misgender her.

Yes, Marina would only ever want to tell her darling the truth of her childhood.

She wants to create a bond between you where you can be honest with one another.

No lies.

Marina is no doubt affected by the festival like the rest, yet she manages to keep her head most of the time.

This is because she is already skilled in the occult.

As a result, I feel she'd be able to handle herself more, even on Day 3.

Which means she'd be less volatile than most other contestants.

Even when she notices your mind wander or your thoughts corrupt... Marina pulls you back into reality.

She'd be less tempted to outright kill other contestants unless she feels it's necessary.

For example, if the felt she had to kill others to guarantee you both live and make it out of here?

She will.

Marina may start platonic with you, seeing you as an intriguing ally who always just seems to have a way with talking to people.

Yet as the countdown ticks on... it becomes known she feels romantically for you.

Now here's an idea...

Samarie, already a canonical yandere, would view you as a rival.

She notices Marina get close to you, clearly head over heels for you.

After all... Samarie feels a similar way with Marina.

Imagine if Marina's first kill as a yandere was Samarie?

She knows the other girl is obsessed with her... yet Marina isn't interested.

Imagine Marina's panic if you were attacked by Samarie, the other crazed girl ranting and raving about being together forever.

Marina is forced to fight back despite Samarie's protests.

Marina's gaze is dark... enraged.

How dare she make you bleed.

While you're tended to by another party member, Marina deals with Samarie.

Most likely by killing her... as if Marina didn't stop her, you'd be dead too.

By the end of it she returns to you smelling if ash and blood.

You give her a concerned look but Marina pushes your other party member away to tend to you.

It's from this point on Marina realizes she must be careful with you.

Which leads down the route you're thinking of.

I think introducing Marina and Samarie's dynamic is a nice way to make Marina different from other yandere contestants.

When she realizes how easy it is for other contestants to target you, she begins to grow distrust.

As the festival trucks on, you two will be forced to make a choice.

Kill or be killed.

Your fate with Marina could go one of two ways.

You two Moonscorch together like most other contestants, usually due to Marina snapping.

Or... you two manage to live through the festival and Marina tries to settle down with you.

Both outcomes are twisted.

While the Ending A outcome sounds nice... Marina's no doubt changed due to the festival.

Especially if you've witnessed her killing other contestants for you.

After all, if Samarie tried it... who's to say the others won't?

Marina is soon used to the blood on her blouse, even if you look at her in concern.

No need for you to be fearful... she's doing this all for you.

She can read your mind and notices your discomfort.

She ignores it, promising herself that this is how you two will survive.

One way or another you'll be together, monsters or not.

Somewhere on the third day, due to Rher's influence, she is open about how she feels.

"I've fallen for you... I can't get the thought of you out of my mind. Everything I do is for you. Maybe Samarie is right... killing to protect the one you love is invigorating. Don't be scared... I just want us to be together... forever... doesn't it sound nice?"

Marina preaches about settling down with you, forgetting what happens in Prehevil and focusing on one another.

It's ironic that she's just become like Samarie.

She doesn't care if every contestant here dies as long as she gets to live beside you in the end.

As Day 3 approaches it's end, it's soon time to flip a coin and decide your fate once and for all.

Marina waits eagerly for the outcome.

At this point, she doesn't care how it happens...

One way or another you'll be together... and she'll be happy since you're the one she loves the most.

[whencyclopedia]

Michael III

Michael III, also known as “Michael the Drunkard” by his detractors, was emperor of the Byzantine Empire from 842 to 867 CE. Never quite escaping the shadow of his mother Theodora, who ruled as regent in his name until c. 855 CE, or his uncle Bardas, the gifted chief minister, Michael's reign nevertheless saw significant religious and political changes and a strengthening of the empire, especially in the east. He was murdered and succeeded by the very man he had promoted in court and eventually appointed co-emperor, Basil I.

Theodora as Regent

Michael was born in 839 CE to Emperor Theophilos (r. 829-842 CE). When the aged and popular ruler died in 842 CE the powerful court eunuch and chief minister Theoktistos and Michael's mother Theodora both governed as the new emperor's regents. Michael had an older sister, Thekla, and the two siblings appear on the reverse of gold coins minted by their mother.

Theodora, a long time closet iconophile despite her late husband's opposite policy, saw to it that the veneration of icons was restored as Christian orthodoxy in March 843 CE. It was an action which became known as the “Triumph of Orthodoxy” and one for which she was later made a saint. Just to be on the safe side and ensure no negative fall-out for her son, Theodora made sure that Theophilos was not condemned by the Church as a heretic for his policy on the destruction of icons. She even spread the rumour he had repented of his sins on his deathbed. As hoped for, the late emperor was given a pardon and so avoided being forever mentioned alongside infamous heretics in church services thereafter. Theodora's great moment with the Church is commemorated in a famous Constantinople icon which dates from the early 15th century CE but is itself a copy of an older one. In it, the regent holds Michael in her arms while she is adoringly surrounded by priests and martyrs.

Continue reading...

[macabremayhem]

The Arcana (head)canon.

I have a strong opinion: Valdemar, because of their antiquity, was born in the land that has a lot in common with ancient Egypt. Not only because of their antiquity: the developers (NH, of course) said themselves about their inspiration for the Tarot history.

Okay, Renaissance, Arabic, but... Egypt? I have never seen any specific Egyptian motifs in the visuals of the game. But what if...

Okay, okay, Valdemar is an ancient being born as a human. Somewhere in the ancient kingdom like the Ancient Egypt in the Arcana world. I'm absolutely sure!

Please don't tell me who they are: AMAB or AFAB, I really HATE THAT subject. And I really hate any kind of "AMAB Valdemar" or "AFAB Valdemar". They are NON-BINARY. They were non-binary as a human, they are non-binary as a demon and eldritch horror. That's it. Also, I love the fact that Vulgora and Valdemar are demons and have never considered that a "bad representation". Sorry, but as a non-binary person, I really want to have the ability to fully transition as an option. I want nothing to do with any option of human genitalia. And I have the strongest gender envy for the Vulgora and Valdemar. They're not human anymore, they can turn their bodies into anything they fucking want and they can live as they feel. Not AFAB. Definitely not AMAB. But Ȩ̵̙̟̬͚̊̿̉͌͜͠l̷̶̡͙̼̗̳̃̑̄͒͡d̶͒̍ͤ̓͏̴̦̮̲͓͝ŗ̛̯̪̠̤ͬͯ͂ͫ̕͠i̴̵ͪͥ̄̎͜͏̭͎͕̗ẗ̵̨̹̻̥̹ͥ̂̆͜͡ç̝͚̗̗̃̍̔ͬ͘͠͝h̆̌͛̔҉̴̧̦̲̘̪͢ ̵͚̤̲̮ͫ́̀̔̀͘͜H̴̡͙̥̩͔ͩ͛͐͛͟͞o̢̢̖̳͉͕͛͂ͫ͌͟͞r̵̞̮̮̮̄͑ͭ̃̕͢͟r̒͗̒̒͏̢͏҉̯̠̝͚o̯͔̭̝ͦ̔ͣͬ́̀͞͡r̍ͫ̔̄͝҉̛̺̺̗͔́ ̏͊̃ͮ҉̸̷̢͈̲͍̝.

Okay, let's go back to the Ancient Egypt theme. I'm sure - the developers should have had that reference, and maybe when they were building the Arcana world they had that thing in mind.

Also. I love learning something (or use my knowledge) and turning it into the Arcana reference. Ancient history is the best thing for that entertainment. So...

Meet the goddess Sekhmet. She's beautiful, she's angry. According to the myths, she wanted to destroy humans because they had humiliated her father, the Supreme God Ra.

And the goddess Sekhmet was a... patron goddess of medicine. She was a patron goddess of medicine, and the same time she had the power to command the diseases and especially the plague.

Plague!

That was her, shall we say, "crown curse sign". Medicine in ancient Egypt was also extremely advanced (for the ancient world, of course). The first time, I swear, I headcanoned Valdemar as a priest of Thoth (for the reasons). But the connection between medicine, plague and the goddess Sekhmet is amazing.

Thank you for coming to my Ted-Talk. :D With all my love for the world of Arcana, Lunatic Sun.

[gingermintpepper]

Day 1: Apollo

Interpretation notes and trivia under the cut!

His interpretation for my work is based very much around the concept of his manifestation as the Radiant God of the String. Because of this, quite like Hecate, he’s triple-fold and occupies three major spaces; the string of Fate and therefore prophecy, the bowstring and therefore distance and destruction and the lyrestring and therefore music and order. He’s a somewhat melancholy figure all things considered - Fate and following Fate’s tennants is something that he struggled a lot with as a child and even now as a more mature deity, the only solution he’s truly found is to take things one day at a time. Very diligent and fastidious, he’s a hard worker and tends to put his everything into completing any task set before him which also tends to work to his disadvantage since he’s prone to becoming tunnel-visioned until he’s finished what he said he would finish. His family orchestrated his winter breaks because he had the nasty habit of working himself sick when he was still very young.

Apollo is generally represented by circles in my work - priests of Apollo will be marked with at least three circles on their face and usually wear triangular jewellry (typically earrings or necklace charms) to reflect the triple-nature of their god. His favoured colour is a rich, deep blue and while he typically wears elaborate eye paint, he rarely uses face powders. Wears gem-toned blues for his lips unless in mourning where he will leave himself unadorned and unpainted out of respect.

Some quick trivia: 

Was born identical to Artemis even though they were born (years) apart. Had brown hair, wolf’s ears and fangs and horns when he was a child but never manifested those features again after his penance for slaying Python. If he’s very stressed or angry, sometimes his fangs will show. The brown of his hair grew out to blond naturally as he developed and matured as a god.

Proficient in all instruments but has always especially preferred stringed instruments. Truly unmatched with a kithara but only uses it for special occasions and official meetings. Generally prefers his lyre for every day usage

Really good at sewing and braiding strings together due to the exercises he had to do while under the tutelage of the Moirai sisters. Can’t weave since Athena banned him from touching a loom but he does like watching her spin. The one time she caught him trying to replicate her patterns with a needle and thread, she complained to Zeus that he had broken his oath. He teases her about that even now.

Was the last of the Twelve to learn how to read and write because he hates letter systems and finds it too arbitrary. Prior to the collaboration that resulted in written letter systems, everyone was perfectly fine with remembering the important stuff and encoding the rest in artistic format such as tapestries, pottery, furniture and jewellry. Apollo himself has a truly formidable memory since he’s been composing and immortalising the events and histories of the world in song since he was very young. He finds written books very dull but Clio’s very insistent about written histories being important and convenient so reluctantly, he’s given permission for his songs and poems to be -gags- transcribed and written down.

Is only called Apollo by his parents, Artemis and Dionysus. Hermes rarely calls him by name in general and the others, including other siblings like Ares and Athena, have always called him Phoebus. Interestingly, Zeus usually calls him Phoebus but will call him Apollo when they are alone or when he’s being especially serious. Apollo is completely comfortable with either name but he does see Phoebus as a bit more formal than Apollo. (Despite his best efforts, both Calliope and Clio also still stubbornly call him Phoebus though he’s fairly sure it’s mostly because they know it bothers him.)

[y-rhywbeth2]

Elves: Philosophy and Religion

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. There's a lot of lore; I don't know everything. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest. etc]

Physiology and quirks | Names & Clans and Houses || Pan-Cultural things: Social life | Time and 'Growing Up an Elf' | Homes | Language | Art | Entertainment | Technology || Elven 'Subraces' still a wip || Philosophy and Religion & Pantheons || Half-elves | [WIP]

• Overview: the variety found in elven religion/s. • Key spiritual philosophies that define elvendom: the Road of Life, Elamshin, and Laraelever • Creation Myths • Reincarnation and dying/Transcendence • Funerals • Holidays • Gods: a very brief overview of the very lengthy amount of nonsense about the four pantheons involved with elves which will be covered seperately (the Seldarine, the Dark Seldarine, the Seelie Court and the Asathalfinare)

Elven religion on Toril is diverse. The different subraces of elves have their own traditions and understanding of the Seldarine, the Seelie Court and the adjacent outer circle of sylvan gods, and the Dark Seldarine, and within those larger umbrellas different individual cultures may also vary.

While the elven faiths are split into the pantheons of the Seldarine and the ‘Dark Seldarine’ after the exile of Lolth, Eilistraee and Vhaeraun, dark elves and surface elves are not restricted to one pantheon vs the other. With two exceptions - Shevarash and Fenmarel - the Seldarine answers the prayers of drow worshippers and accepts them as priests (even if their mortal cousins do not), and gods of the Dark Seldarine do accept and sometimes reach out to elves who are amenable to their nature (even if most drow would call this heresy).

While it’s claimed that the drow are exiled from Arvandor, there are a few things that suggest things are more flexible than that. Firstly there's the individual drow who worship the Seldarine and Eilistraeeans who go to Arvandor after death (Eilistraee having a realm on Arvandor for this putpose), and secondly that surface elves can, through their own actions, fall out of grace and fall under Lolth’s sway without realising it. It’s also been put forth that this applies to the reincarnation cycle, as an elf’s spirit may shift between Corellon and Lolth’s sphere of influence by their actions: a drow may go to Arvandor and be reincarnated outside of Lolth's clutes, an evil surface elf who defies the Seldarine may be born again in Lolth's web.

Lolth hungers to be worshipped on the surface and often walks the streets of human cities (likely in disguise). She particularly delights in corrupting more elves, whispering in the ears of the desperate, ambitious and those lost to pain and grief – some of whom deliberately seek her out despite the great taboo of doing so.

Vhaeraun seeks to do away with the divisions of the Crown War and reunite the Tel’Quessir under his worship, which includes stealing surface elves out from under his old pantheon where and when he can.

Eilistraee doesn’t deliberately seek surface elven worship, or any form of worship since she invests all her energy into pulling the drow out of Lolth's grip, but she welcomes all into her faith regardless of origin. Due to her welcoming nature and outcast status she also tends to be popular with half-elves who face prejudice or persecution, especially bards.

Ghaunadaur will happily accept worshippers and future sacrifices from anyone – he’s patron god of gelatinous cubes, he’s not picky.

Kiaransalee, goddess of undeath and vengeance, has attempted to demand fealty from surface elves in the past.

Selvetarm is indifferent to his worshippers, so probably neither objects to surface elven worship nor cares if they don't worship him.

--

Key Philosophies:

A larger bent of religious philosophy drawing strongly on Sehanine Moonbow’s dogma, and particularly strong on Evermeet, lends itself to the concept of enlightenment and unity with the gods:

The Road of Life is a philosophy that the long life of elves is a winding path of many stages, at the end of which, if walked correctly, the elf with understand the many mysteries of elven life and the world and be presented with a choice to either ascend permanently to Arvandor and join the Seldarine or to return to Toril and guide the People as a bodhisattva-esque figure, denying yourself eternal reward in order to shepherd others towards it. Thus far there is only one elf known to have achieved this stage, Queen Amlaruil of Evermeet, who chose the latter. She recently disappeared during the Spellplague era and nobody knows what’s up with that so far.

Each road walked is unique, with many branching paths that appear when a choice can be made (some of which loop back to an earlier part of the road which need to be walked again) and many different cultural and religious opinions exist on how the road is supposed to be walked; whether its something you build for yourself by experiencing it and the journey itself is the point, or if there's a true route hidden amongst all the twists and turns that one must find and walk to reach enlightenment.

What exactly is beyond Transcendence at the end of the Road isn't explained, which is presumably why you need to spend a lifetime getting enlightened to understand it.

But by and large elves live by a combination of individuality and community: 'We are on this shared path together, but at the same time all of us are finding our own way.' Everyone's road is unique to them, and The People must support each other as a whole in order to provide the structure for an individual to walk their path.

Throughout the journey the elf develops themselves, exploring the world and their identity and their faith. Introspection and reflection on the nature of reality and divinity (and the elven place around it) develops throughout one’s life.

The first stage applies to young elves, and focuses on individualism; Exploration, chasing impulses and curiosities and travelling as they find their footing, grow to understand the world they live in, the gods they come from, and establishing an identity.

The second is a maturation stage, where the elf settles and begins to look towards their community and the People as a whole. At this stage elves have had many decades to grow and experience things and get to know themselves and are ready to commit to some field of development, dedicating themselves to their art or career (this is the point where one joins the priesthood or military, becomes a politician, or devotes their lives to study or art, etc). Either their attention turns outwards as they begin to consider the world, the gods and The People and their spiritual growth extends around and amongst them - or their full attention is devoted to one specific interest, which will consume them obsessively for the rest of their lives as they explore every part of it (don't start an elf on their special interest unless you genuinely want to be there for days while they gush over the minutia in full detail).

At the penultimate stage, when an elf finally hits old age (700+), the road takes a turn for the mystical. A ring of light – Sehanine’s titular moonbow – appears around the irises of the elf, signalling to them and those around them that they will soon be recalled to Arvandor. Their reveries begin to fill with visions and communion with the goddess of death, a process known as Transcendence, preparing them for what’s to come and presenting them with experiences that are said to be indescribable to one who hasn’t experienced them. Gradually they begin to slip into visions even during their waking hours as they slip away from the physical world. This is the time when an elf looks back at the winding threads they wove of their life and are to use it to place together ‘an understanding of elven nature and its relation to the universe,’ as the Seldarine begin to recall them to Arvandor.

As an elf dies they enter communion with the Seldarine, their awareness spreading throughout the Weave and encompassing the spirits of all elves on Toril, then into the minds of the Elders; those elves who have passed into Arvandor before them. The dying elf becomes one in communion with the Seldarine, magic and the People. The wisest are said presented with the choice to join the Seldarine or to remain in the mortal realm as a guide.

Many elves simply walk away into the woods or mountains and are never heard from again; elves outside of Evermeet usually find themselves compelled to travel to the Isle.

Sometimes elves physically fade out of existence as they die, rather than leaving a body, and Eilistraeean drow are also described doing this (Eilistraee calls her followers to her much as Sehanine calls to surface elves, where she dances alongside them until both fade into the moonlight (the Last Dance)).

Sometimes the spirit simply departs the flesh and leaves an empty shell behind which will be disposed off according to their culture.

An elf who dies to disease or violence does not experience Transcendence, and there's a strong chance their soul will be destroyed by the act of dying. In cases where it doesn't the soul is trapped, and a priest of Sehanine is tasked with seeking them and undergoing the Transcendence on their behalf to guide them to Arvandor.

(‘Wait, what about the Fugue Plane?’ Yes. Welcome, or perhaps 'welcome back,' to the land of The Writers Never Agree on Jack Shit. According to some sources the Fugue only applies to humans (and even then, only Faerûnian humans), and according to others elves will be going to the Fugue to face Kelemvor's judgement too. Up to you.)

-

On the other hand there's Elamshin, the Will of Lolth (or simply 'Destiny'). All strive for Lolth's approval; those who have it continue to live and are granted power and wealth; those who lose it suffer and perish. Chaos incarnate, how one gains and maintains this favour is not clear and one must be sharp and attentive and always ready to adapt to survive. When one cannot adapt, one has stagnated and must give way to the new growth. By living in chaos one is an adaptable and stronger being, and by better serving Lolth such the Spider Queen and her followers will overthrow the false traitor gods and rule the world, as is their right.

The rest of the Dark Seldarine do not seem to have any overarching philosophy like Elamshin or the Road of Life - Eilistraee seeks to forge a new path; Vhaeraun's church is a resistance movement more than a faith; etc.

-

The People are innately and spiritually a part of the Weave of Magic that saturates all of Toril and the Natural Balance, the later of which they have a druid-like relationship with. As they are part of other elves and their gods, they are one and a whole with the tapestry of magic and nature. The health of these things is the health of the People.

‘The Home of the Heart,’ a rough translation of the word Laraelever, the forest ‘as it should be,’ when one is living in balance with the natural cycles of the world and not burning it down or harming it out of carelessness and greed. The term can also be applied to things that are in line with this harmony, such as elven furniture and architecture grown from living trees or grown into shape and then harvested at the end of its lifespan instead of killing the tree for its wood on ones own terms. The individual shouldn't come at the cost of, nor impose harmfully on the lives of others.

Lolthites, Selvetarmites, Kiaransaleen and Ghaunadaurans don’t give a flying fuck about this, notably. Not sure about Vhaeraunites, but since he's trying to get the drow back to their pre-Descent lives it's possible something along these lines is in there... then again he does have a holy day that's just him giving the middle finger to the value the Seldarine places on nature, so maybe not.

-

Creation myths:

The most common creation myth is of course the variant where Corellon was injured in combat with the orc god Gruumsh, and the droplets of his blood became the first elves (some also add that another god – usually Sehanine or Angharradh – wept at his injury, and the mingling of blood and tears gave rise to the elves).

Some claim that Corellon created these first elves in his image by using magic to weave them physical forms from sunbeams (gold elves), moonlight (moon), the forests (green), the clouds (avariel), the seas (aquatic), and shadows (dark elves).

‘Myths discussing the natural origins of the Fair Folk are closely tied to the ability of many members of the Seldarine to assume nonelven, natural forms far greater in size than is common for their avatars.’

Reincarnation:

While lore from both the original AD&D and 5e supports elven reincarnation, and a specific form of reincarnation exists in being reincarnated into a fey guardian to take on a life of duty to nature and elvendom, a reincarnation cycle is not a universal belief amongst the Tel’Quessir.

Some do not believe in it. Of those who do, it’s believed that an elf may reincarnate as animals, plants or fey and not just elves, and this is not necessarily viewed as a punishment or reward in the fashion of karmic-like consequences. Sometimes it's even a desired outcome. Corellon and Sehanine work together to guide elves towards perfection in the cycles of life and death, Corellon watching over them and protecting them in life and creation, before handing them to Sehanine’s care in death. As the deity of transcendence, she presents elves with guides and puzzles to solve – in life, and presumably in death - as they find their way towards their final stage.

Some believe that reincarnation is only a rare occurrence that only happens as a punishment, when an elf commits a great wrong and is sent back by the Seldarine to atone before they can enter Arvandor. Others say that it’s a sign that an elf has unfinished business – usually some duty to kin and clan – and they have returned in order to complete it.

An order of rangers in the service of Sehanine (the Sentinels of the Moonbow) serves as a sort of animal wellfare group, that protects animals under the reasoning that they may be 'the reincarnated spirits of elves of ages past and that may once again assume elven form.'

Undeath - mormhaor, 'corrupted death' - is a state despised by elven faith as a breakage in the natural cycles of the universe that damages or destroys the soul of the victim. They are trapped in an abominable state, torn away from the people and unable to achieve transcendence or walk the Road. Elves tend to handle undeath badly. The acceptible alternatives; baelnorn liches and Reverend Ones (elven wraiths) are the product of white necromancy, powered by positive energy and deliberately created with the aid of the Seldarine; to become such is to make a great sacrifice and a duty to the defence and preservation of one's people or clan, postponing one's own reward to care for others. It's not an enjoyable or desirable state and it's not one entered into lightly. While their sacrifice is respected, even these undead make living elves uncomfortable

The story of Corellon’s exiling of elven souls from Arvandor due to Lolth’s manipulations, which has been introduced in 5e, clashes with previously given Realmslore* (wherein elves had already settled the Prime Material Plane in mortal forms before Araushnee’s banishment, and Corellon takes a static gender for her, not mortal elves), so while the story may exist on Toril, it’s not the mainstream version most elves believe in.

(*It's been stated in canon that depictions of deities outside of realmslore do not affect the versions of them within it, nor vice versa. A deity’s realmspace aspect is something of an independent being.

‘Once [an immigrant] deity is accepted into the pantheons of Toril, there is no difference between [native Torilian and pan-DnD gods], since each immigrant deity has a local aspect, independent of other world-based aspects he or she might possess. For example, although Labelas Enoreth and Clangeddin Silverbeard battled each other during the Time of Troubles on the isle of Ruathym, any enmity stemming from that clash does not extend to other worlds. Likewise, Lolth in some other world differs from Lolth in Faerûn’ - Faiths and Pantheons )

Funerals:

“Behold, there in the West There I see my comrades and my lovers, my childhood friends, those who have gone before me and those still to come. There I see them in the tall oaks, high in the limbs where the golden sun lights their faces. “They are calling my name. They are calling my name. They are calling me West, and there I am going.” - The elven Prayer for the Dead

Funerary customs vary greatly not only by subrace and nation but by specific communities - and each funeral is greatly customised according to the nature of the deceased.

Sun elves build elaborate tombs that also double as troves of history and lore that descendants can access; green elves bury their dead beneath or within trees, as do most copper elves. Some cremate their dead. Some elven cultures see a body as nothing but a cast off husk of no value now that the spirit has departed. Moon elves, as ever, vary greatly. Evereskans and some moon elves go for tombs, in the rest of the world some families draw more from their sylvan ancestry and go in for tree burials, others might use the customs of human settlements, etc.

I can't find anything specific on dark elven customs. Eilistraeeans have them, I assume Vhaeraunites do too. Ghaunadaurans die via self-sacrifice and get eaten. I'm pretty sure Kiransaleen and Lolthites believe in recycling via necromancy (or occasionally cannibalism, in Lolth's case). Being used to build an animate ossuary for Kiaransalee's temple also looks to be on the table. With Lolth in particular it's going to depend on which Lolthite sect you're in.

Holidays:

Not counting the impromptu revels Hanali's priests throw, Lolth's regular sacrifices, the various holy rites observed in Sehanine's name (focused on lunar cycles and phenomenon, which can occur once per decade, century or millennium), and so forth.

Cinnelas'Cor: 'The Day of Corellon's Peace' (everybody except most drow) and The Melding of the Three (moon elves) Elven new year, except it's held once every 'four snows' or 'pyesigeni' in elven (also known as Aeloulaeva), which is four years to a human.

Massive archery competitions are sponsored by the church of Solonor Thelandira, and considering these are elves one imagines that there's an incredible amount of getting drunk, dancing, flirting, and acting like idiots involved.

For moon elves this is also the holiday where they celebrate the birth of Angharradh and the peace and safety she brings.

Lateu'quor: Communion of the Crescent Moon Occurring once a month during the crescent moon phase, a celebration of creativity where elves gather in nearby glades and offer up a work of art to Corellon (a song, dance, piece of music, poetry, fine art, textiles, weapons, whatever you make)... while also dancing and partying, because elves. The creations are placed on display or preserved by Corellon's priests at his shrines and temples. Exceptional masterpieces are taken to Arvandor to be enjoyed by the elven spirits currently there. Occasionally Corellon personally blesses the revel with a spontaneous magical effect, which may involve him gifting his own work of art to the mortal elves in return.

The Secrets of the Heart Revels in honour of Hanali Celanil, occurring once a month during the full moon. A 'rosy glow' manifests within participants, highlighting their 'inner beauty' that lasts for several days. Feelings of romantic love are magically enhanced in some fashion, allowing participants to evaluate their feelings and relationships. Much like Lateu'quor, offerings of artworks are made to be taken to Arvandor and admired there. Some are returned, and these are shared around to be enjoyed by everybody. It's considered a lucky day to elope, announce engagements, and to unveil new art to the public.

Lunar Hallowings Also held during nights of a clear full moon, participants enter reverie and either mediate alone or enter communion with loved ones to commune with Sehanine. Occasionally Sehanine temporarily enjoins the spirits of all elves into a 'true sharing of the minds.' Then, of course, comes the dancing and drinking that lasts until the first rays of dawn.

Followers of Lolth celebrate the full moon by holding a religious ceremony with the sacrificing of a surface elf as the central event as a deliberate insult to Sehanine.

Nights of the new moon (Vhaeraunites) For surface dwelling Vhaeraunites, the nights of the new moon are sacred, celebrated by stag hunts through dark woodlands ending in the sacrifice of its antlers and still beating heart to their god in a manner which deliberately perverts the hunting celebrations of the Seldarine.

The Budding A dance held during the spring equinox honouring Rillifane Rallathil; the natural cycles, the life given by the world around one, and the growth of new life is celebrated with the usual dancing and feasting. The weeks leading up to the celebration is marked by fasting, broken with the ritual hunt of a hart.

The Dance of Swirling Winds A dance festival held on the vernal and autumnal equinoxes, observing the changing of the seasons and venerating Aerdrie Faenya who for most elves is am agricultural deity. During the gathering there are always strong winds, and those who can't fly (via wings or magic) are granted magical flight by the goddess so that they may join the wind dance in the sky. At the end of the festivities the wind blows the participants over several miles of vistas showing natural beauty, before depositing them gently near their homes.

Midsummer Like the rest of Toril, Midsummer is a day dedicated to love. Feasting, music and dancing being the main attractions. Those with no romantic partner/s either seek them or, if they have no desire to, celebrate with friends. Partners usually wander away to find privacy towards the end of the day. Elves are usually joined in their celebrations by the local fey.

Midsummer is considered a particularly good day for marriages and betrothals.

The Transformation A holy day occurring during the autumn equinox, counterpart to the Budding. Elves seeking a major change - be this some form of spiritual rebirth, a clean break from something in their life, or anything else along those lines - gather to celebrate the promise of Rillifane and the autumn that life is an everchanging renewal: all things fade, new things grow, some old things regain their health or change.

The Graverending (Kiaransaleen) An annual rite held on midwinter eve, Kiaransalee's priestesses animate as many murder victims as they possibly can in the form of a goddess-blessed unique undead called Vengeance Hunters who will unceasingly hunt down their slayers over the course of the next 24 hour period, only stopping if destroyed or if the 24 hours ends. Once they've succeeded (or time is up) the revenants return to their graves. The vast majority of dark elves don't worship Kiaransalee, so for most drow this is just zombie assassin apocalypse day.

Midwinter: The Mystic Rites of the Luminous Cloud, also known as Ol Ahnvae Sehanine (Sehanine's Night) The elven equivalent to the Feast of the Moon, the midwinter holiday when Faerûn honours the dead. Elves assemble under the night sky and enter reverie, and are enveloped in shimmering moonlight that dissolves them and draws them into the sky. While communing, Sehanine guides the elves through visions meant to aid their spiritual development, revealing the mysteries of the Road of Life at levels appropriate to each participant's readiness. At the end of the rite the elves are returned to their physical forms in their original positions.

The Maked Lord's Embrace (Vhaeraunite) The most sacred of Vhaeraun's holy days, every follower spends 24 hours of introspection in full sensory deprivation (drow use their innate darkness and leviation spells to isolate themselves in spheres of pitch blackness, those who don't have those abilities are granted them by Vhaeraun for the day). They spend this period contemplating Vhaeraun's teachings and how they might advance the Masked Lord's cause over the coming year.

The Run (Eilistraeean) Held once a year, at an unspecified time (may be the worshipper's choice). Surface drow almost universally travel in disguise on the surface for their own safety, but on this day Eilistraeeans head into surface communities - especially amongst surface elves - and walk openly among them. Non-drow followers instead disguise themselves as drow. They are to offer charity: sharing game they've hunted with those who need it, playing music for the entertainment of the people, lending helping hands to others' tasks and so forth. During this time Eilistraeeans may not preach their faith nor attempt to gain any wealth or power for themselves - all acts must be pure charity.

The High Hunt (Eilistraeean) A night-time hunt held at the end of each season (presumably during or around Midsummer, Highharvestide, the Feast of the Moon, Midwinter and Greengrass). The priest-led hunting parties pursue a dangerous monster wielding only bladed weapons. Lay-worshippers may dress how they please, while priests forgo all forms of protection including any clothes.

The Gods:

Are getting a secondary post, because the number of them is insane. Elven religion as a whole involves four pantheons (the Seldarine (17 gods, or more, depending on who you talk to), the Seelie Court (7+), the Asathalfinare (7), and the 'Dark Seldarine' (6)), and different elven cultures have entirely different opinions on who is part of the elven pantheon and who isn't and how the pantheon works.

Suffice to say, surface elves typically worship the Seldarine, usually led by Corellon with some bickering about the fine details between cultures, and the Seelie Court - the fey gods, called 'archfey' in 4e and 5e, led by Titania. Green elven religion then goes on to incorporate a layer of animism.

Aquatic elves might pay some respect to the Seldarine as the gods of their ancestors, but primarily worship the Asathalfinare; a pantheon of deities worshipped by sea-dwelling beings led by the aquatic elven god Deep Sashelas.

The Dark Seldarine plays the role of the devil for surface elves, while for dark elves they are the only pantheon... and which member of the pantheon they worship is usually the only god in the pantheon that matters:

Dark elves vary greatly by which of the Dark Seldarine they worship. Lolth is predominant, but within her faith every drow settlement is going to differ on what Lolth's exact teachings are and how she's supposed to be worshipped, as deliberately engineered by the Spider Queen to keep chaos and conflict going.

Eilistraeeans are the least henotheistic, and the Seldarine is often worshipped alongside her. Surface elven worshippers of the Dark Maiden are uncommon and most are deeply sceptical of her and her followers, but they can be found living in some dark elven communities on the surface. While tensions between the dark elves and their cousins, and between Eilistraee and the Seldarine still exist, she does have one foot in Arvandor despite not technically being part of the Seldarine and speculation on whether she'll ever formally re-join them continues (although according to Word of God Eilistraee has no intention of joining any pantheon).

[cakerybakery]

I’d like to write a one shot about Adam being reborn on Earth and becoming a priest. I had a story idea a few months about about a priest that agrees to meetings each week with the devil to save his congregation, that would be a fun premise for getting Adam and Lucifer to fuck. Especially if combined with that temptation war AU I was thinking about the other day.

It’s Lucifer and Lilith’s turn to pick a vice vs virtue and as they lost Lust to Chasity a few rounds ago so they’re going to try it again. Adam and Eve have chosen to born into highly religious families with the goals of becoming members of the cloth once they’re adults again to resist the temptation of lust.

Lucifer and Lilith wait until Adam and Eve have grown up again. Part of the rules. Just as Adam and Eve will only be born with the vague feeling that they’re doing something important, Lucifer and Lilith cannot tempt them as children. Should Adam or Eve die or sin before they’re considered adults with all the rights and responsibilities required to be an adult then it would be a tie for the round and their sins would not count as Lilith and Lucifer aren’t tempting them.

Eve grows up to become a nun. She chose well and resists the temptations of hell her whole life. Much to the frustration of Lilith.

Adam grows up to become a priest but when members of his congregation sell their souls to the devil for things such as wealth, power, or talent and the devil comes a calling Adam is desperate to protect his people.

“Then let’s make a deal. So long as you meet with me I’ll leave your sinners alone. Perhaps one day you’ll convince me to let their souls go. Although I’d rather add a priest to the notches on my bedpost.”

Adam takes a step back from the devil’s out stretched hand. He couldn’t believe people in his congregation had made deals for their souls to this man, nor could he believe he was taller than the devil by a few inches. He always seemed bigger in the stories.

Were a few sinners worth risking his soul? His place in heaven? The devil’s deal said nothing about his soul and he did not plan to have sex until marriage he could be confident that he couldn’t be tempted into the sin. The devil was hardly his type. While he was partial to blonds, but he also liked it when they came with tits. He wasn’t in any danger of finding this guy attractive.

“Deal.” Adam took Lucifer’s hand and they shook on it.

“I will come every Sunday night. From 7 pm until 7 am your time is mine. Play your cards right and you’ll be cumming to.” Lucifer winked and vanished.

Adam’s hand burned. He hoped his congregation was worth it.

Sunday came and he put extra emphasis on people needing to resist the devil and his temptation. Hoping at least to not lose more to the short bastard.

He waited back at his small apartment that evening, wondering how he was going to entertain the king of hell for twelve hours. Did he need to stay up all night? What was the devil even going to do? Should he put on a movie? Adam had been on a few dates before, but he’d never been as nervous about them as he was about this meeting.

A date he could navigate. He planned to be a priest most of his life. He always made that clear and that a date was simply a date and he had no plans to have sex before marriage. Some girls he just never clicked with and they didn’t date for long. One he thought he would marry but she left the church and him. She’s apparently happy with a family of her own on the other side of the country, according to Facebook anyways.

This was unusual to say the least. He prepared a sermon but if the devil couldn’t be swayed by god what chance did he have? What would they discuss? What could they discuss if the devil’s goal was to bed him? Would he have to spend twelve hours trying to push the devil’s hands off him? Telling him no and trying to squirm away?

Adam caught sight of himself in the mirror, his face was turning pink, he hadn’t realized he was biting his own lip. That wasn’t good. Was there a reason things never clicked with women?

His clock began to chime and there was a knock on the door, tearing him from his thoughts.

Opening the door, Adam didn’t know what to expect. Lucifer wore a casual suit for their meeting, the top few buttons undone, hatless, he pressed a small bouquet of flowers into Adam’s hands and carried a bottle of wine.

Adam could feel his face burning red. This was a date. He was on a date with the devil in his apartment.

“Going to invite me in, darling?” Lucifer winked up at him and Adam stumbled back tongue-tied.

“Co-come in.” What had he done? This was bad. This was a bad time to be figuring out that maybe he was more into men than he thought.

He shook his head, no. He wasn’t into guys. He wasn’t interested in men last week. This had to be some trick of the devil. A trick of the rather handsome devil taking off his suit jacket and rolling his shirt sleeves up and talking to him about glasses? He didn’t wear glasses. Why did the devil want to know where his glasses were?

Lucifer held up the bottle looking as confused as Adam was feeling and it clicked.

“I don’t have wine glasses! I-I don’t drink, much.” He had the occasionally beer but never really acquired a taste for it and it was more to be polite than anything.

He also didn’t have a vase. No one had ever given him flowers before and he never bought any for himself. Where should he put this? What did he do?

Almost like he was taking pity on him, Lucifer flashed him a soft smile that made Adam’s heart race, and brushed past Adam to go into the kitchen.

He opened and closed cupboards until he found the glasses and pulled a couple down.

“This will do.” Lucifer poured them some wine, “shall we have dinner? I’m a fantastic cook.”

Adam left the flowers propped up in the sink and filled it with the tap until he could find something else for the flowers to go in.

He hadn’t thought about dinner. For the past couple hours he had been fretting over what to say and skipped his own supper. Adam had been too busy to do much shopping either.

“How about take out?”

“It would give me more time to seduce you.” Lucifer’s hand groped Adam’s ass and Adam jumped.

“You know what,” Adam backed out of the kitchen, “you should cook.”

Lucifer just smiled, “anything you say, dear.”

Adam retreated to the living room while the devil cooked in his kitchen. His classes never prepared him for this. It was always more theoretical and metaphorical. The devil tempting you with the easy path, not by coming to your apartment with flowers and wine, not by cooking you dinner and groping your ass.

He talked to Adam. Asked him questions about his life. Spoke to Adam as though he had known him all his life. Like this wasn’t the first time the devil tried to seduced him.

Adam knew he didn’t have ribs in the fridge but there they were on a plate. He didn’t have apples either, but there was a pie. Adam wasn’t sure he had most of the ingredients used in the meal and wondered if he would be damned if he ate it.

“It’s fine. I conjured what I needed.” Lucifer poured himself another glass, “you’re not Persephone and damned to the under world if you eat my cooking.”

Still, Adam picked at the food, the man telling him this was the prince of lies. He could easily be lying.

“If it was easy cooking you a meal then I wouldn’t need twelve hours.”

Adam supposed that was true. But the truth could be as effective as a lie if told properly. His stomach growled and he took a bite.

Fuck. It was delicious. Adam dug in vaguely aware that Lucifer was watching him.

“You humans have a saying. ‘The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’ And I get the feeling of if I want into your bed it’ll have to be through your heart. So I’m glad you’re enjoying my cooking so much.”

Adam felt a foot run up and down his leg and quickly pushed himself back away from the table. He finished his supper awkwardly far from the table and his plate as quickly as he could. Before slamming back his glass of wine.

“How about we watch a movie?” Without waiting for an answer Adam left the table and dishes. Something he wasn’t prone to doing on his own. He switched on the tv and clicked through some menus and screens to turn on the first movie he found. Adam sat ridged in an armchair. Assuming Lucifer would be unable to touch him if the seat was for one.

He was wrong.

Lucifer sat in his lap. “All you have to do is tell me no.” He sunk his fingers into Adam’s hair and cozied up close.

Adam’s tongue wouldn’t work. He couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to say no. “I’m waiting until marriage!”

Lucifer kissed his neck as Adam clung to the arm rests like a lifeboat in the sea.

Lucifer’s hands wandered and Adam could only whimper. When they reached Adam’s belt he found his voice. “Marry me!”

Pausing his hands, Lucifer pulled away from Adam’s neck, “what?”

“Marry me. You want to fuck a priest? Then marry me. You can fuck me as much as you want then. But you have to let my congregation go.”

“That! I! Uhh!”

Adam grabbed Lucifer by the waist and kissed him for all he was worth. Lucifer twisted his hands into Adam’s sweater and returned the kiss, “okay.” Was all he could say when Adam pulled away.

Lucifer’s face was flushed and eyes half closed, Adam saw his chance. He continued his assault on the devil’s lips and texted with one hand to John, a fellow priest, to bring his wife and to come over quick.

It didn’t need to be legal. Not in the eyes of the government. It wasn’t like the fucking devil could sign paperwork. But they could make it official in the eyes of the lord.

John held Adam’s spare key and let his wife and himself into Adam’s apartment.

The sight was more horrific than either had imagined. They had thought perhaps Adam had hurt himself and didn’t want to go to the hospital. Mary was a nurse after all. They expected blood and stitches. Not to see a demon pinned to the floor by Adam. Their necks red with hickies, disheveled, and leftover dinner still warm on the table.

“What the fuck, Adam?”

“Marry us. Quickly.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later. I have the-the paper thingy in my desk with,” Adam groaned as the devil rubbed them together. “Words and shit! Just do it!”

John did as he was told. Speeding through to the vows.

“Names! What’s his name?”

“Lucifer Morningstar.” The devil laughed.

John fumbled with the papers. Not a demon but the very king of hell himself.

He finished the vows they said their I do’s and Adam screamed at him to get out.

Mary prayed in the car as they drove home. He didn’t know what unholy deed he had just been apart of but he couldn’t escape the feeling that he had just helped someone or something greater than himself. He couldn’t figure out if it was for the side of good or evil.

The deed was done, Adam let Lucifer go and let himself be ravaged.

His favourite sweater was torn beyond repair in Lucifer’s quest for more flesh to assault with his hands and mouth. His pants would never recover. He let himself be carried to his bed and pressed into it.

Adam briefly realized this was going to be his first time and that the devil was unlikely to let him top. When he pictured this moment, his wedding night, this was nothing like he imagined. At the very least he assumed he would be the one doing the fucking.

Those thoughts vanished as Lucifer’s mouth engulfed his dick whole.

Very suddenly he didn’t care. Not if Lucifer kept doing that thing with his tongue. He could feel himself being worked open and wondered very briefly what his husband was using, then Lucifer did that thing with his tongue and the thought was gone.

Adam didn’t know, Adam didn’t care, Adam just wanted more, Adam was rewarded with it.

He writhed and screamed out, he was sure the neighbours would call the police.

It was only after, as they lay gasping in his bedsheets, that it occurred to Adam what he had done.

“You win.” Lucifer pried himself up from the bed. “This round is yours, Adam.”

Memories flooded back. Eden, heaven, hell, the war they were waging that rested on the shoulder’s of he and Eve.

“I didn’t think flowers and dinner would work that fast.”

“You prick! You fucking bastard! You tricked me!” Adam hit Lucifer with a pillow.

“Well, yeah. That’s my lot in this war.” He let Adam hit him, knowing that Adam was embarrassed. It wasn’t like a pillow could actually harm him and they both knew it.

Adam exhausted himself. He was a bit sore and emotionally drained. “What do you mean I won?”

“This round was lust. I was trying to get you to give into having pre-marital sex. I have to admit, I was so flabbergasted by you actually calling over someone who could marry us that I went with it.”

“Aren’t you already married? Doesn’t that mean we’re not married? Shouldn’t you have won that round?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Kinda. Not on Earth though. And you didn’t know about my marriage to Lilith. But you remember and so long as Eve doesn’t give in before she dies, then this round goes to heaven.”

“It’s weird. To remember while I’m still alive.”

“Yeah, usually I get your whole life to tempt you. If you marry then I tempt you with cheating. Or whatever. This was a loophole I didn’t see coming.”

Adam wasn’t sure what to do now. He should probably explain things to John. But how much? What did this mean for Lucifer and him? Apparently what they did was good enough for God to declare Adam the victor. So he was, in this life and in the eyes of God, married to Lucifer. Oh this life’s father would be pissed if he knew.

He started laughing as ideas came to him. He should go back home to his parent’s place, show up with his husband, the fucking devil. That would be hilarious.

What would his congregation think? Well, seeing as a few of them made deals with the devil he could just leave out the wage between heaven and hell and let them all know their slate had been wiped clean and it was thanks to him bending over.

Fuck it. Adam flopped down onto the bed. He would worry about it later.

Lucifer rolled closer, “sooo, you want to cuddle?”

Adam shoved him off the bed.

“That wasn’t a no!”

—-

For fuck’s sake! I wasn’t trying to write a story! Who keeps letting me have ideas?

[genericpuff]

Hello, I am a huge fan of your work and I’ve been following you for a while! I am a gay Greek student at the History & Mythology department from Aristotle University. I had to do a lot of research and homework regarding certain subjects and one of them was Κρόκος (Krokos/Crocus). Crocus was in fact in love with a nymph named Smilax, but was never, in any valid story, involved with Hermes romantically. Contrary to popular belief, homosexuality was something that was condemned in the majority of most city-states of ancient Greece, especially Athens. In fact, they even had the derogatory term for gay people “kinaidos” (κίναιδος) and they were banned from participating in politics, banned from the Olympics, banned from participating in the war, banned from being priests and in worse cases, they were sentenced to death. :( “Αν τις Αθηναίος εταιρήση, με έξεστω αυτω των εννέα αρχόντων γενέσθαι, μηδέ ιερωσύνην ιερώσασθαι, μηδέ συνδικήσαι τω δήμω, μηδέ αρχήν αρχέτω μηδεμιάν, μήτε ενδημον, μήτε υπερόριον, μήτε κληρωτήν, μήτε χειροτονητήν, μηδέ επικυρήκειαν αποστελλέσθω, μηδέ γνώμην λεγέτω, μηδέ εις τα δημοτελή ιερά εισίτω, μηδέ εν ταις κοιναίς σταφονοφορίες σταφανούσθω, μηδέ εντός των της αγοράς περιρραντηριων πορευέσθω.

Εάν δε ταύτα τις ποιή,καταγνωσθέντως αυτού εταιρείν, θανάτω ζημιούσθω.” Translation: “If an Athenean performs this, he will not be allowed to become member of the 9 lords, he will not be able to become a priest, he will not be able to become an advocate of the people, he will have no authority inside or outside of Athens, he cannot become a war preacher, he will not be able to express his opinion, he will not be allowed to enter the sacred public temples, he will not be able to take walks happening in Agora. If he ignores any of these laws he will be sentenced to death.” - Solon Laws in book 5, chapter 5

Also, the term “Pederastry” actually meant “Mentoship” and it had nothing to do with sexual relationship between a male teacher and a male student. Many of the homosexual depictions regarding historical and mythological figures are created in modern times without any evidence to back it up. For instance, Achilles and Patroclus are often assumed to be lovers in modern media when in all actuality they were just cousins. Patroclus’ father Μενοίτιος (Menoetius) and Achilles’ father Πηλέας (Peleus) were brothers.

Alexander the Great was never in a relationship with his best friend Hephaestion as there’s no evidence to back it up besides him telling him his secrets and mourning his death.

The only historical figure that could be a legit bisexual was Sappho from the island Lesbos (which is why Greece now calls the island “Mytelene” to avoid any association with lesbians, despite it being the name of one of the cities there). She was accused of being a promiscuous woman who was sleeping with many men and that she was a woman-lover due to her poems, but this is still up to debate to this day.

The worst of all is that most pictures involving homosexual activity used as evidence to prove queerness have been modern remakes of an ancient artifacts depicting heterosexuality (or even the rape of women). Eros Kalos is responsible for many of these “queer copies”.

This deeply saddens me as I am a homosexual myself, but I don’t think Ancient Greece deserves credit for being “open-minded” on the subject knowing that they would treat me badly if I was born in my country in that era. I don’t feel comfortable with people trying to prove that it was gay when that’s not true at all. Anyway, I am very happy that artists like you exist and make their own fictional versions of the characters in ways that feel comfortable for us to look at. Stay amazing. <3

Wow, this was a super interesting read !!! Thanks for all the helpful info :3 It's sometimes difficult to discern what "love" between gods and mortals means in the translated texts, as sometimes it can mean romantic/sexual love, and other times it just means godly love, i.e. mortals who were "chosen" by gods to be their patrons (so just having a very strong spiritual connection in the same way the Christian God "loves his children") and I feel like sometimes those two things become conflated a lot in discussion around those stories, but that's why it's always important to listen to other interpretations and translations to try and get the most accurate recounting possible.

Mind you, I am not Greek so take ALL of my opinions on this topic with OLYMPUS-SIZED-MOUNTAINS OF SALT LOL

I actually had no idea about the Alexander the Great x Hephaestion thing, and upon searching it up, it brought up articles about a Netflix production? Would I be wrong in assuming that's what motivated you to clarify on that ? 😆 (or is it just a common sentiment these days? genuinely asking haha I'm not so sharp on my Alexander the Great lore these days 😔🤡)

I absolutely agree that Greece itself isn't exactly a pillar of LGBTQ+ representation or rights (it is, after all, predominantly Orthodox Christian and they just legalized gay marriage in this, the year of our suffering 2024) and it's important not to put on blinders or use our connection to the gods and myths to erase what's going on historically. It's certainly not a magical imperfect wonderland - no culture or country is - and the more people are aware of that, the more they can become aware of ongoing issues and fight for things like equal rights (as they should!) so they can move towards positive change.

I think there's definitely lots to be said about the fandomification of Greek myth as well, where a lot of people take fun in the cute / funny / easy-to-headcanon parts of the myths without recognizing where they come from, why they were written, and who they were written for. It's easy to be a non-Greek person consuming and engaging with all the fun parts of the myths, because we get the privilege of being outsiders looking in who can interpret the myths in our own way free of consequences or the reality of the culture these myths are from. And I say that as someone who's not Greek and absolutely falls into that camp! Some of us use that privilege responsibly, others... not so much. And again, that's something that can happen with any culture (though I can definitely name a handful that have become notorious for how fandomified they've become through pop culture cough Japan cough Korea cough Canada, yes I fucking said Canada-)

That said, as with any culture that becomes more popularized with people outside of it, as much as that can lead to harm and misrepresentation in many ways, it can also lead to a lot of joy and appreciation. I'm glad that so many people have found themselves in the myths and find their hope through them and reclaim their power through them even if they've had a messy history. I see this sort of reclamation thriving in Christian mythology as well, through those who want to reclaim the beauty of many of its stories and messages and express the joy and love and compassion in them, rather than using them for hate and discrimination as they're so commonly and systematically used. In that way I think you can easily have adaptions that aren't historically accurate, but are more reflective of the culture and hopes and dreams of the people who are retelling them in the modern day. I think it's important to keep both in mind.

IMO it's one of those "if we don't find joy in it and use it to spread love to others, that means the bigots get to use it for harm" type things, if that makes sense :'0 But that doesn't mean we should pretend like history never happened, because in doing so, we're doomed to repeat it. We should always do our best to respect where these stories came from, and do more to learn about them when we get the opportunity to do so, because not doing so is how we end up with adaptions and "retellings" that are so far removed from the source material - but still ingrain themselves so seriously without a shred of transparency - that they almost become erasure in and of themselves. As I say a lot here, balance is key, and we should always be making efforts to learn ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

[catladyoftheyr]

「 ✦ 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 & 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦 ✦ 」

Warnings for: religious trauma, religious guilt, religious abuse, mentions of lent, smoking/drinking, catholic school, sex, violence/fighting, confession, prayer

Notes: this is based off an AU of a fic I’m hoping to get out this weekend where Miguel is an up and coming boxer with a checkered past. This is my! Miguel i make the rules 😘

Poor Miguel embodies catholic guilt to me. I feel like he went to catholic school and never recovered. He’s always had a temper and he’d get into fights with the other boys. He’d come with a bloody lip or a chipped tooth. I know Nuns stopped using corporal punishment in the 70s but this is my AU. Poor Miguel would get an earful and have to stay after to write lines and clean erasers. And if he was especially unlucky, a paddling. All of this only made him more angry.

He learned the Bible backward and forward. He learned his prayers, how to do the Rosary and say the Our Father. Raised to say Grace before every meal, to say your prayers on your knees before bed every night. To thank God for letting you live to see another day. He went to church every Sunday and he got his first communion and his confirmation. The photos are framed on the mantel in his parent’s home.

His anger never went away as he got older. He was known to pick fights, and to get kicked out bars. He was a rebellious teenager, mad at God, and at himself. He felt that it was going to hell anyways, he might as well make it worth his time. He’d sneak out at night, and drink with his friends. He was rowdy, loud, and reckless. He loved to drive too fast and almost got his license suspended before he’d even had it a year because he had so many speeding tickets. He’d jump the subway turnstiles and steal small things from bodegas and drug stores.

As a young adult, Miguel had a steady girlfriend. It was rocky but he was trying his best. He really cared about her and wanted to clean up his act for her. She was patient and tender, just like the Saints were supposed to be. She was a Good Catholic Girl, just what his parents wanted. But Catholic school doesn’t provide sex education. They got pregnant; Their parents pressured them into a hasty marriage before she could start showing. That’s what you’re supposed to do.

They had a beautiful baby girl, Gabriella. Miguel cried the day she was born. He knew he’d love her more than anything else for the rest of his life. He tried so hard to get his shit together for real this time. He got a real job, even. But the pressure to be the strong man of the house got to him. He started drinking heavily again, and he’d stay out late. His wife found out he was unfaithful and she left, taking Gabriella with her. Miguel’s bad behavior only gave him weekends and every other holiday.

He felt like the sky was falling, and he spiraled. He went back to church and talked to the priest. He was told to have faith in the Lord to guide him. The Lord was his shepherd and he must be patient and willing to listen. What a lousy shepherd

He eventually landed in prison for a couple years. Assault and Burglary lead to hard time. He got out on good behavior but didn’t have anywhere to go. He found a distant cousin to crash with until he got on his feet. His cousin frequented a local boxing gym, and Miguel fell in love the sport. He was a natural at it, and it was healthy outlet for his emotions.

He was working on a better custody deal with Gabriella’s mother when suddenly she passed away in a tragic accident. Miguel had found himself thrust into full custody. He enrolled the young girl in Catholic school, hoping for her to have a better relationship with God than he did. His life was just starting to be back on track when he met you at the bus stop. You’d dropped your token down a storm drain and he’d paid for your fare. He’d assumed that would be the last time he’d ever see you, but you’d slipped a post it with your cell number in his bag.

Will everything get derailed again? Or will Miguel find another saintly woman to love?

[skyrim-forever]

The Viticius Kids

Finally making a post about Theodora and Ondolemar's children <3

Eldest: Arthano Viticius, born 4E 208 Arthano features in this fic and he was born during the events of the Dragonborn questline. Appearance wise he looks nearly identical to his father, except he dark hair which he shaves and brown eyes. He has a lot of energy, gets into shit, but is a very protective older brother. As the eldest, Arthano is privy to the most information about what's going on politically around him from his parents. Theodora trains him in swordfighting once they decide he's old enough and eventually he pursues his dream of being Champion of the Arena. His weapon of choice by the time he is an adult is a bound battleaxe. Later on in life he becomes a mercenary, travelling throughout Tamriel, not unlike a certain Uncle Teldryn :P He can be brash and is very outgoing, which causes him to clash especially with his brother as they have very different approaches to life. He has Theodora's desire for freedom and prioritizes that above most everything, save for his family. He's particularly close with his mom, big mama's boy <3

Middle: Ricardo Viticius, born 4E 211

Ricardo is the middle child. From a young age he takes an interest in history, particularity the history of Cyrodiil. He grows up to be a renowned scholar and eventually becomes a moth priest as his desire for knowledge grows. Ricardo is a pacifist, due to not only learning how wars have shaped Tamriel's history; but also the role different miltaries have played in his family life. He shuns the idea of violence as a fact of life and advocates for peaceful discussion. Him and Arthano can be at odds with each other and sometimes he feels very different from the rest of his family. Moving away from home is good for him and it allows him to develop a better relationship with his brother, where they sort of agree to disagree on each other's respective views. He frequently gets confused for being a Breton, especially when he is visiting somewhere to give a talk. Often he'll be asked "So where is your family from in High Rock?" and he has to say he's actually Imperial/Altmer, but he has Theodora's skin tone and pointed ears he understands the confusion but the assumptions get annoying fast. Ricardo is closer with his father as they both have an interest in history. He is named after his maternal grandfather, although they couldn't be more different.

Youngest: Ceridwen Viticius, born 4E 213

Ceridwen is a curious child who, like her brother Ricardo is interested in knowledge, but like her eldest brother;, she is interesting in fighting. She eventually chooses to study at the College of Winterhold because she wants to travel Skyrim like her mom did; despite her parents protests saying that "Winterhold is miserable" and her father trying to bargain with her to go literally anywhere else. She is persistent though and eventually they agree. Originally she though she was interested in Alteration, but once she starts learning Destruction it's over. She focuses on storm magic. She meets a Telvanni while in Winterhold and eventually they get married and she joins the House. Becoming a Master Wizard and surpassing them. She has the gold Altmer skin, Theodora's dark hair, and she's the only one of the three kids who doesn't have the pointed elf ears. Cerdiwen benefits from being the youngest in that she gets the most time with parents, she is unofficially her father's favourite as he wanted a daughter <3 She was named after her paternal grandmother.

[phantomsghoulette]

Kingdom of Heaven STORY IDEA

This post goes out to all the Kingdom of Heaven fans that write ffs, especially about our King - Baldwin IV

Now this idea may not be historically correct but I still need someone to make a story out of it. I'm talking A LONG ASS story with many chapters because I'm somehow a hopeless romantic when it comes to Baldwin.

So here's the story:

(Please use Y/N for Tiberias' daughter and not some name)

We start off long before Baldwin was born, when Tiberias and his wife arrive in the Kingdom of Heaven. Later on they have a daughter together, around the same time Baldwin was born. Tiberias already has a close relationship with the royal family at this time because of his wise knight shit. At some point Tiberias' wife dies and he has to raise their daughter on his own and he starts taking her to the palace where her and young Baldwin would often play together and develope a friendship. At some point Baldwin's illness is discovered. The priests and higher ranked people try to find a wife for him asap in order to keep the bloodline but every woman kindly rejects, scared of the illness so they just accept Baldwin's lonely fate. His illness is slowly taking over his body and Tiberia's daughter decides to take care of him, not being scared of him no matter how disfigured he looks. But when Baldwin notices that he's slowly developing feelings for her and that his face looks more and more sinister and his limbs are slowly becoming useless, he becomes kinda distant because he's scared to confess his feelings.

Remember that scene in the movie when Baldwin asks Balian to marry Sybilla? That's when he confesses his feelings. So let's imagine Tiberias' daughter is there too and when the men are done talking Baldwin sends off Balian and Tiberias but wants Y/N to stay. "No, Y/N. Not you. I need to talk to you. Stay... please." Or something like that. And we all know that Baldwin knew that Jerusalem was doomed because of his sister and that's why his confession goes something like:

"You know there is one more thing I could have done to save Jerusalem and its people... and I'm now regretting that I haven't done this."

Y/N: "And that would be?"

Baldwin: "Making you my wife"

And then he goes on with his cheesy romantic medieval confession. And Y/N confesses too bla bla bla and she then even takes off his mask and kisses him on the corner of his lips (one side of his mouth wasn't that damaged, remember?).

On his death day she takes care of his wounds one last time.

Make their last conversation HEARTWRENCHING. I WANNA CRY.

After his death Y/N seeks comfort in her father. Make it a wholesome daughter - father relationship (idk how to do that because I never had a father lmaoooo)

How the story ends is for you to decide. Maybe Y/N goes to Cyprus with Tiberias because she cannot take it to watch the Kingdom fall that Baldwin created and led with so much love and respect for the people.

You can also add some suggestive themes. For example Baldwin dreaming about getting intimate with Y/N because he's just that touch-deprived.

So yeah if anyone would be willing to take on this idea - you're more than welcome to do so and I'd DEFINITELY read it. I personally am not good at writing GOOD stories because English isn't my first language and I would ruin the story by using "basic" English. And since Kingdom of Heaven takes place during medieval times you need to write such stories in "fancy" English.

Anyways. I had to get this off my semi-autistic mind or else I would have gone CRAZY.

I just hope this post reaches the right people🙏

[legardeapologist]

“So…”

Nothing good comes after a pause when it comes to Cahara, especially when he’d just drunk the last three wine vials.

The fool's hesitance grates on him. “Speak or don’t.”

“Well, if you say so. Uh, what’s the difference between a mage and a magician?” He trots ahead in anticipation of friendly fire.

He lets out his exasperation with his breath. “‘Magician’ refers to any magic wielder, novice or master. ‘Mage’ refers to those with natural affinities for magic. More specifically, with the gods.”

“So they’re more pretentious?”

Enki’s head whips to glare at the thief, who leaps forward.

“Just kidding!” He edges further away with a beaming smile. “So, you were born under one of the gods?”

Nothing that impressive. His slight ability was pounced upon by masked priests before he could speak. They took in anyone with a glimmer of power, with the intention to mold unwanted gutter filth into something worthwhile. To make him even a smidgen stronger, they dulled him to pain. He learned to stoke Gro-goroth’s interest through mutilation. With the amount of blood he's had to spill, from his arms or prisoners' chests, there wasn't a chance he was lucky enough to have been born under a god.

His sister was a different story. While he crouched in the grass to eavesdrop upon the cacophony of invertabrate society, she was razing the fields around the monastery. She'd always been gifted. How easily would she breeze through these halls?

Cahara eyes him gingerly, a thoughtful expression crossing his face for once.

His eyebrow twitches. “That wouldn't be for me to say. I do seem to have a predilection for the god of the depths...my mastery over insects suggests as much." It's possible he would have entertained the thought if he were ignorant to the scope of power attainable to a dark priest. As it stands, he's nowhere near that level of ability.

It's possible he'll never reach it. It's possible...he is a magician.

Cahara's brow furrows. “Mastery over- what, so you talk to bugs?”

Enki’s eyes creak to his.

His eyes widen. “You can talk to bugs!” He points at him and howls, like the idiotic lush he is. His laugh persists so strongly, he has to bend over to catch his breath. “Oh, that’s awesome! Wait!” He picks up the translucent exoskeleton of what looks to be a wood louse from the floor and juts it at him. “Talk to this guy!” He cackles wildly, tears pooling in his eyes.

If his sanity wasn't exhausted, he would puncture a hole into this fool permanently. As it is, their satchel is empty of alcohol and tobacco to give him the mental fortitude.

“Wait, could you understand what that ugly giant roach was saying? Were you talking to that bumblebee when I found you in the courtyard? Do you have bug friends?” Cahara’s eyes shine with petty glee, glad to have something over him for once.

Questions like this keep rolling from his mouth as they continue up the prison tower. No matter. He'll find something personal to lord over him soon enough.

[marchentraume]

I had trouble sleeping last night so I kept thinking about an Aziracrow Hercules inspired AU

Per usual I bulleted every though I have underneath:

Mostly taking beats from the disney version (with a dash of the TV series for anyone who remembers)

Angels are the Gods on Olympus, not really using the royal caste system but those like Gabriel and the Metatron are higher beings with larger titles

Demons live/work in Hades and go on Earth to make deals with humans to create servants they can use

Aziraphale is the first god "born" in eons and therefore the youngest, he is taken care of by his nanny Muriel

Lucifer meanwhile at the same time receives a vision from his advisor Beelzebub that the young god will grow to be strong enough to defeat him and bring balance to the gods, demons, and earth (spoiler: Luci doesn't want this lol)

Sends his minions Hastur and Ligur to kidnap and remove the god-essence from the little one before taking care of him (plot plot they fail to remove ALL the essence so he looks normal but has his super strength still)

Tiny vulnerable baby Azi is found by Nina and Maggie, a sweet childless couple who raise him as their own

Fast forward: Azi learns of his origins from nanny Muriel, trains for years to be a hero to prove himself, soon is ready to start his journey

Runs into seemingly human damsel Crowley (gender fluid in this version/doesn't mind any pronouns), rescues, and is immediately smitten by them

Crowley meanwhile is only a pawn, using a disguise provided by demons to hide their true Gorgon form

This was a curse put on them as a human servant to the temple of the Metatron, she was found in the arms of a favorite priest and, though it was against her will when it happened, was made to be a monster who's eyesight would turn anyone who sees them into stone

blah blah plot plot out of despair he signs a contract with Lucifer to be a lure on land and especially given the important job of watching out for/bringing down Aziraphale

Has a hard time trusting Gods, Azi is no different in Crowley's eyes at first

plot plot Azi is a hero but not a TRUE hero yet

Goes on a date with Crowley, who realizes he's in love but Hastur so rudely reminds her she's a servant, one who has proven to be useful now

Demons use Crowley to get Aziraphale to give up strength

Azi is heartbroken to learn he was lied to but still loves Crowley enough to save them (after the latter push them aside like in the movie)

Azi brings balance to the world through love/being a real hero (plot plot) and goes to save Crowley's soul in Hades

Azi is offered a place in Olympus as a god, but turns it down and asks to be with his Crowley

Also either 1) Crowley is turned human again either as a reward for being a hero or on Aziraphale's request they are given the form that makes them most happy or 2) Crowley is still a Gorgon and either we don't worry about it or Azi is just immune as a final gift from the Gods

HAPPILY EVER AFTER SMOOCHES

Oh and yes Nina and Maggie love their beautiful gay demi-god son and his beautiful Gorgon wife <3