#Burning in Celestial Poison

[drondskaath]

Black Curse | Burning in Celestial Poison | 25th October, 2024

American Black/Death Metal

Artwork by Brendan Macleod

[dustedmagazine]

Black Curse — Burning in Celestial Poison (Sepulchral Voice)

There must be something in the air out in Denver — something bad. Of Feather and Bone and especially Primitive Man have been making mercilessly ugly music, amid a bumping Denver metro scene that also includes black metal outlaws Wayfarer and bum-out specialists Khemmis. But for sheer gonzo energy and near-incoherent rage, it’s hard to top the black/death of Black Curse. The band’s previous LP Endless Wound stirred up a noisome, caustic concoction of sonic abuse, with irregular shifts into the agonizing doom of Jonathan Campos’s other band (the aforementioned and peerless Primitive Man). Burning in Celestial Poison amps up the intensity and provides more of it: three of the five songs on the record exceed the ten-minute mark, and they constitute unflagging, unholy assaults, on your ears and the condition of your soul.

Those are overheated figures of speech and thought, to be sure, but Black Curse burns even hotter. Hard to say precisely what that titular “celestial poison” might be — but the Early Modern album art suggests it either leaks from the body of Lucifer (yikes), or it may reach further back, to the serpent that drips venom into the eyes of Loki. Songs like “Spleen Girt with Serpent” (your humble reviewer first read that as “Spleen Girl with Serpent,” and really liked it; seems like there should be a punk band called Spleen Girl…) and “Flowers of Gethsemane” gesture in both of those directions. Either way, the mythic sources are dire, epic in scale, and the music incinerates and moans ecstatically.

On a less elevated (or subterranean…?) plane, it’s tempting to hear this record and understand it semi-allegorically, as a report on the last three months of life in the States. Since Kamala Harris assumed the mantle (best phrase for that shift away from Biden, which happened more in a modality of succession than anything involving direct action from the polis) of the Democratic Party, the pace of life has proceeded with a bewildering temporality. Time has simultaneously passed impossibly quickly and impossibly slowly. The toggling might have something to do with just how plugged in you are to the constant news of malfeasance and cynicism, and also to just how many campaign ads you have been subjected. It’s all awful. It won’t stop. And even after election day, there will likely be no quick resolution to the agonies.

This review will likely be published into that post-election-day morass, in which the textures and pace of Black Curse’s long sprints and sudden drops into dirge may seem even more in tune with the national affect. The most sonically volatile track on the record (and this reviewer’s fave, for whatever that’s worth) is titled “Trodden Flesh.” It remains to be seen where all those stamping, marching or fleeing feet are going, into what future. What’s certain even now is the condition of the flesh beneath them: trodden on, suffering, exhausted. Burning in Celestial Poison won’t improve the emotional condition of that flesh, but it registers the pain, and the rage that builds just beneath it.

Jonathan Shaw

[symmetricalscar]

Black Curse - Burning In Celestial Poison

[queerbarddragon]

Album of the day

[llamagoddessofficial]

In today's age of magic, shapeshifting has never been easier or more frequent. Have you started to notice your partner has some strange quirks? Does your husband, wife, spouse or significant other demonstrate some odd behaviours that you've only started to take real notice of after significant time together? Accidentally getting into a relationship with a nonhuman is more common than you might think. Here's a handy guide on some entities your partner might be, in case you feel you need to approach that topic.

1 - Fae Fae are a very diverse race, ranging wildly in appearance and power, and disguising themselves as humans is an everyday occurrence. You most likely grew up on stories about not giving your name to strangers, in case they are Fae - unknowingly marrying a Fae is shockingly common, the Bureau of Nonhuman Entities (BoNE) estimates that anywhere between 0.5 to 2% of human marriages actually include one or more Fae in disguise. Here are the signs your partner may be Fae.

A 'green thumb', very knowledgeable about highly local plants and fungi

Strong aptitude for poetry and instruments, a very beautiful singing voice. They highly enjoy writing songs for you, composing poems about you, and singing together.

Enjoys singing you to sleep.

Wild animals are completely unafraid of them, and often approach both of you

Loves gold jewellery, but abjectly refuses to wear anything silver.

Sees suspiciously well in the dark

Cannot get drunk - Fae are often immune to human poisons

Acquaintances of yours describe your partner as 'ethereal', 'enchanting', or 'hypnotising'. You may hear comments that your partner seems out of your league.

They place a very heavy emphasis on manners and politeness, and can quickly grow upset when social rules are not followed.

When frustrated, they use swear words you've never heard before

Fae are frequently attracted to neurodivergent humans. If you're neurodivergent the likelihood is even higher.

2 - Deity Again, more common than you might think. Deities both minor and major often find themselves attracted to humans, and stories of these romances are baked into our histories. Your spouse may be the God of anything from a very specific kind of flower, to a certain weather pattern, to (rarely) something very big like knowledge or the ocean itself. They're harder to spot than Fae, often indistinguishable from a normal human thanks to their many years observing people.

The biggest clue is that they don't notice pain, and never seem to get hurt. They'll have invulnerability or high resistance to things such as burning, freezing, drowning, cutting, and blunt force trauma. They might not notice they've put their hand on a hot burner, for example.

Speaks in strangely archaic language, often misunderstanding modern trends and linguistics. Oddly knowledgeable around ancient subjects.

They may randomly smell like blood and/or smoke. This is often a sign they've just received an offering, and the intensity of the smell is stronger with more powerful deities.

They can immediately tell when someone is lying, usually without giving a cause for the knowledge.

The two of you share pet names of a celestial nature, such as "star", "nova", "sun", "moon", "comet".

When upset, they have a highly commanding voice that can shake glass or cause bizarre events to happen (ie; mist indoors, words on a page scrambling, lights changing colour).

Heightened interest in the topic of immortality - particularly your views on it. Frequently asking you 'how you would feel' if you would live forever.

3 - Dragon A very rare (but not impossible) phenomena, most people have no idea that dragons are intelligent and emotionally complex beings that can very convincingly disguise themselves. Living in caves isn't for everyone and loneliness is not just a human feeling.

Very wealthy, but with no clear sign of where the wealth originates from. They may say their money comes from a 'long-term investment'.

Highly passionate lover. Deeply devoted and affectionate, sometimes to the point of it being inappropriate in public. Enjoys big displays of affection and physical intimacy. May need to be told to slow down.

Abandonment issues. This often stems from the highly violent childhood many dragons experience, and the frequent loss of loved ones to dragonslayers. They might be reluctant to be separated too long.

Has a particular item they enjoy hoarding. This could be clothes, trinkets, plushies, shoes, anything at all. You may find that they're very easygoing about you touching their collection, maybe they even actively make you part of the hoard. They may dress you in collected clothes, sort their collected plushies around your bed, or ask you to wear jewellery they've found. But they'll become extremely agitated and aggressive if anyone other than you tries to interact with 'their things'.

Prone to anger, quick-tempered.

Frequently concerned about your health, seems to perceive you as delicate and easily injured.

Please remember that if your partner IS nonhuman, they almost certainly didn't intentionally lie. Human relationships will seem very fast to other entities. Many transform into humans for a fun year out, find themselves head over heels in love, and then can't figure out the right time to tell their human lover the truth. Try not to hold it against them, everyone has their quirks!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Medieval Beasts

for your next poem/story (pt. 2)

Lacta - a small animal that lives in the graves of the dead

Martineta - a bird that does not decay when dead

Nightingale - a bird that sings to relieve the tedium as it sits on its nest through the night. At dawn, it sings so enthusiastically that it almost dies. Sometimes nightingales compete with each other with their songs, and the one that loses the competition often dies.

Oriole - a bird that is gold all over, except for some blue on the wings; hangs its nest from the end of branches; from the ground, they appear to float in the air

Paradisi - called bird of paradise because of its celestial beauty; brown and small; the sweetness of its voice can arouse devotion and joy in people; if captured, it will not stop crying until it is freed; rarely found away from the region of the Nile River

Stymphalis - a man-eating bird with a beak of bronze, sharp metallic feathers it can launch at its victims, and poisonous dung; according to the Greek legend of the Labors of Hercules, he destroyed the birds with poisoned arrows

Thamur - a worm with blood that can be used to split the hardest stone, like marble; Solomon discovered this property when he needed to shape marble for an alter without using iron to cut it, which was against Jewish law

Uria - a worm found in pigs; blisters form where it bites because the bitten flesh burns

Yale - a beast with flexible horns that it can move at will; when it fights, it keeps one horn pointed backward, so that if the horn it is fighting with is damaged, it can bring the other to the front. It is the size of a horse, but has the tail of an elephant and the jaws of a boar, and is black. The basilisk is its enemy, and if it finds the yale asleep it stings it between the eyes, causing its eyes to swell until they burst.

Zerahav - a bird that lays its eggs at the bottom of the ocean; then floats on the surface above the eggs where she can watch them, and incubates them from there. When the eggs hatch, she dives to the bottom and brings her chicks to the shore, where she feeds them.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Part 1 ⚜ Medieval Period

[theplotmage]

Murder Mystery, Occult, Paranormal & Fantasy Prompt Ideas for Writers

1. The Cursed Amulet - A wealthy collector is found dead after acquiring a cursed amulet. The protagonist must uncover the artifact’s dark history to solve the murder.

2. Blood Moon Ritual - During a blood moon, a prominent figure is sacrificed in a forbidden ritual. The investigator discovers a cult trying to summon an ancient deity.

3. Witch’s Grimoire - A renowned witch is murdered, and her grimoire is stolen. The book contains spells powerful enough to alter reality.

4. Haunted Manor - Guests at a secluded manor start dying mysteriously. It’s said the house is haunted by vengeful spirits from a tragic past.

5. Necromancer’s Revenge - A necromancer brings people back from the dead to seek revenge on those who wronged him, resulting in a string of murders.

6. Sorcerer’s Apprentice - An apprentice sorcerer is killed during a magical experiment gone wrong. The protagonist must navigate a web of magical deceit to find the killer.

7. Alchemical Poison - A series of deaths caused by an untraceable poison leads to an alchemist who’s using forbidden knowledge.

8. The Phantom Assassin - A shadowy figure with supernatural abilities is killing off members of a secret society.

9. Demon Pact - A series of murders mimic those described in an ancient text about summoning a demon. The protagonist suspects a pact with dark forces.

10. Arcane Library - A librarian is found dead in a magical library where books can come to life. The books themselves hold clues to the murder.

11. Midnight Masquerade - At a masquerade ball, a guest is killed, and the murder is linked to an ancient ritual involving the masks.

12. Sacred Relic - A sacred relic is stolen, and those connected to its theft are being murdered by a guardian spirit.

13. Time-Worn Curse - An old curse reawakens, killing the descendants of the original cursed family. The investigator must break the curse to stop the murders.

14. Vampire’s Thrall - Murders in a town coincide with the arrival of a charismatic stranger who may be a vampire seeking revenge.

15. Elemental Fury - A mage controlling elemental forces is killing people who wronged him in the past. Each murder is committed using a different element.

16. Runic Inscription - Victims are found with runic inscriptions burned into their skin, leading the protagonist to an ancient prophecy.

17. Ghost Ship - A ship thought lost at sea reappears, its crew murdered. The investigator discovers the ship’s cursed history.

18. Puppet Master - An enchanted puppet is killing those who mistreated its creator, a deceased toymaker.

19. Celestial Alignment - Murders align with celestial events, suggesting a ritualistic pattern. The protagonist races against time to prevent the next murder.

20. Shadow Realm - Victims are being dragged into a parallel shadow realm, their bodies found drained of life.

21. Enchanted Forest - People who enter a forbidden forest are found dead, their bodies entwined with enchanted vines.

22. Murderous Djinn - A djinn, bound to an artifact, is killing people who come into possession of it.

23. Spellbound Love - A love potion gone wrong leads to obsessive love and murder.

24. Seer’s Vision - A seer predicts their own murder and enlists the protagonist to prevent it, but the future seems immutable.

25. Ritual Dagger - A dagger used in ancient sacrifices is rediscovered, and each person who touches it is killed.

26. Charmed Life - A person with a charm for eternal life starts aging rapidly and dies under mysterious circumstances.

27. Mystic Tattoo - A tattoo artist’s clients are being murdered, their tattoos turning into deadly curses.

28. Dragon’s Curse - A dragon’s curse starts killing those who stole from its hoard.

29. Mirror of Truth - An enchanted mirror reveals the darkest secrets of those who look into it, leading to a series of murders.

30. Ghostly Whisperer - A medium is killed by a spirit they summoned, who continues to haunt and kill.

31. Warding Sigil - A town’s protective sigil is broken, unleashing vengeful spirits on the townspeople.

32. Sorcerer’s Duel - A duel between powerful sorcerers results in one’s death, but the victor’s life is now in danger.

33. Forbidden Love - Star-crossed lovers from rival magical factions lead to a series of revenge killings.

34. Haunted Heirloom - An heirloom brings death to the family that inherits it, linked to an ancestor’s dark pact.

35. Shapeshifter’s Hunt - A shapeshifter is targeting a specific group, blending in seamlessly until the protagonist uncovers their true nature.

36. Arcane Academy - A student at a magical academy is killed during a spell-casting exam, and the murder is linked to a dark secret of the school.

37. Spectral Assassin - An assassin’s ghost seeks revenge on those who betrayed him in life.

38. Illusionist’s Game - An illusionist’s final trick results in real deaths, with magic and deception intertwining.

39. Golem Rampage - A golem goes on a killing spree, and the investigator must find its creator to stop it.

40. Philosopher’s Stone - A hunt for the philosopher’s stone leads to deadly competition and betrayal.

41. Mystic Caravan - A traveling caravan brings death wherever it goes, linked to an ancient curse.

42. Sealed Tomb - An ancient tomb is opened, releasing a vengeful spirit that begins killing those responsible.

43. Moonlit Beast - A werewolf’s attacks coincide with the full moon, but this werewolf is being controlled by someone with dark intentions.

44. Soul Harvest - Victims are found with their souls extracted, leading to a dark sorcerer seeking immortality.

45. Witch Hunt - A series of witch trials results in the wrongful deaths of innocents, whose spirits now seek vengeance.

46. Crystal Prophecy - A prophecy within a crystal ball foretells murders, but the seer is manipulating events to fulfill it.

47. Enchanted Theater - Actors in a theater troupe start dying in ways that mimic their cursed roles.

48. Dark Covenant - A secret society’s members are being killed off one by one, linked to a broken blood pact.

49. Doppelganger’s Curse - Victims are replaced by malevolent doppelgangers who are committing murders in their place.

50. Forgotten Sanctuary - An ancient sanctuary is disturbed, releasing an entity that begins killing those who desecrated it.

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[quirkwizard]

So between the popularity of the last D&D post I did and the upcoming revisions to D&D 5E, I thought it'd be fun to talk about Class 1-A and D&D again. This time, instead of playing D&D, this will be students in D&D. For this, I will be picking out classes and races that I believe fit them the most based on the descriptions and lore presented in the books. Official material only, so no Blood Hunter Tokoyami. However, characters and their "stats" will take precedent over Quirks. The Gravity Wizard is a thing, but I don't think that Uraraka would fit as a Wizard.

Sato-Half Orc Berserker Barbarian: A perfect encapsulation of Sato. A big ole beefcake that runs up, hits stuff as hard as possible, and then immediately burns himself out because that's all he can do.

Mineta-Kender Rogue Thief: The classic "jerk thief" archetype with a set of quick hands and mobility options to replace his orbs with. And like Mineta, Kender are also a small race that everyone despises, so it's fitting.

Aoyama-Eldarin Warlock Celestial: A natural fit for Warlocks. He only shoots out beams, gets tired after a few big attacks, and owes all his power to a patron. Eldarin are just extra Elves, so that works out as well.

Mina-Satyr Bard Dance: The class is a pretty obvious choice given Mina's natural charisma and acrobatic abilities. I was tempted to pick Yuan Ti for the poison abilities, but I figured that Satyr would fit her look and character better.

Denki: Dragon Sorcerer Dragonborn: Just going all in on the lightning damage here. Denki is someone coasting entirely on talent, fitting with a Sorcerer, and everything else is letting him gave off as much electricity as possible.

Ojiro-Harengon Open Hand Monk: Open Hand Monk is a pretty obvious fit given Ojiro's martial abilities. As for the race… Look, there isn't any race that uses a tail. Harengon was about as close as I was going to get with it's other abilities.

Hagakure-Fairy Arcane Trickster: Rogues are good at sneaking and Arcane Tricksters can reliably become invisible. Fairies fit well into the sneaky part of it and their generally cheery disposition fits even better with Hagakure's chipper personality.

Kirishima: Goliath Battlerager Barbarian: A race that is made out of resilient rocks, a class that's all about getting and taking hits, and subclass that is all about being covered in sharp armor. It's great. You can even have the Rage be his Red Riot: Unbreakable move.

Koda-Firbolg Shepard Druid: I know I did this before, but it's too perfect with his role as the friend to all animals. Firbolgs are the soft, gentle giants of the forest and the Shepard Druid fits nicely with his tendency of overwhelming foes with countless animals.

Jiro-Tiefling Glamour Bard: No surprise with the class and the subclass fits with her role as punk rocker. Tiefling may seem like an odd pick, but I think that her generally closed off disposition can fits well with how Tieflings tend to be characterized.

Sero-Tabaxi Fey Wanderer Ranger: Hands down the hardest person to pick out for this. His abilities and personality don't fit a lot of races or classes that much. I just went with this set up for his pension for movement and trapping as well how personable he can be.

Momo-High Elf Artillerist Artificer : A natural builder that can create whatever she wants, especially her powerful canons. The elf part was mostly for personality given how distant Momo tends to be from other in terms of wealth and overall intelligence.

Tokoyami-Owlin Fiend Warlock: I know the Kenku is right there, but I believe that Owlin fits Tokoyami better. And with how his power comes entirely from a monster and how much it protects him, the defensive abilities of the Warlock Fiend fit well.

Tsuyu-Grung Cleric Peace: Grung is obvious since it's literally a frog, but her class may be confusing for some. I did consider Monk, but none of the subclasses fit her that well. I just thought that having her be a Peace Cleric fits with her wise and supportive nature.

Uraraka-Halfling War Cleric: I honestly went with Cleric because fit her general disposition. That kind of support centric person with a few fighting options that come with the War Cleric. The Halfling was mostly because she's very brave and focused on her family.

Shoto-Half Elf Lunar Sorcerer: Sorcerer is an obvious pick with how much of his story is tied to his ancestry and divided nature, complimented further by the Half Elf race. I went with Lunar Sorcery since it multitude of options works with his multifaceted power.

Tenya-Wizard War Magic Warforged: I was tempted to go with Paladin for him, but I believed that Wizard fit better with his natural intellect. Having him be a War Magic Wizard seemed like a good comprise. And of course Warforged fits him nicely.

Shoji-Simic Hybrid Astral Self Monk: Shoji fits in well with the reserved and disciplined types that often make up Monks, especially with how many times he can punch, but the real flavor comes from the Simic Hybrd. A terrifying monster of a man with gliders and tendrils? It's perfect.

Bakugou-Fire Genasi Eldritch Knight Fighter: I believe that Fighter fits best with Bakugou's upfront and aggressive way of fighting as well as his immense physical resilience, with the subclass fitting with his intelligence. And the Fire Gensai was just made to be Bakugou with it's firepower and hyper aggression.

Izuku: Variant Human Devotion Paladin: I was tempted to go with Wizard here, but I think that Izuku's unwavering devotion to a cause and heroic spirit fits too well with a paladin. Plus, you could easily reflavor all of his smites as smashes. Because I don't care what they say, you can smite with your fists.

[squichymochi]

I wrote this piece around 2 AM today, and I’m still on the fence about it 😅. I might consider removing it later. Initially envisioned as a Soulmate Story featuring Vox and the Reader (Part 1 of 2 mayyyybe).

Warning: This story contains mentions of sexual intercourse, sexual parts, blood, curse words, and other typical elements found in Hazbin Hotel content. Reader discretion is advised.

Vox x Reader (Soulmates)

Word Count: 1.580

The world had always seemed cruel to Vox, a cosmic joke played at the expense of the naive. His life on Earth, even though marked by questionable choices, was shaped by a belief that the afterlife was nothing more than a farce.

And why should he care? According to the lore of soulmates, his was already dead.

Each person was born with a unique tattoo, a symbol of a destined other. But Vox's skin had been bare from birth, a silent testament to a soulmate lost before he even had the chance to dream. As it is said that the tattoo faded upon a soulmate's death, Vox grew up surrounded by whispers of pity and curiosity.

Did his soulmate die before he was born, was he one of the pity souls without a mate?

So when Vox awoke in Hell, transformed into a being more screen than flesh, the last thing on his mind was a faded fairytale. Furthermore it is said, that such a bond rarely survives the transformation from the living to the afterlife. He rose through the ranks, carving out his place as an overlord. He was one of the V’s, powerful, famous and deadly, a force to behold.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans. During a heated moment with Valentino, something unexpected happened. The air was electric and Valentino leaned closer to Vox, his breath a mix of sweet venom and temptation. Some might say poison, for Vox it was sweet oblivion. Valentino purred sweet nothings while his hands were slowly sliding lower. The taller grabbed the corner of Vox frame and both dived into their bodily desires. Suddenly a searing pain erupted where his skin met the digital interface.

"What the hell!" Vox exclaimed, his voice a crackle of static as he forcefully shoved his partner away, the latter stumbling over his two feet, a look of surprise on his usually composed face which quickly turned into one of furry.

Vox face felt like it was burning from the inside out, an intense heat focused on the specific spot Valentino just touched. The other, recovering from the sudden push now wiped residue from his face, smearing it across his cheek"¿Qué mierda?" he growled looking at Vox his eyes turning into slits.

“The fuck did you do this time?!”, Vox growled his voice a mixture of pain and glitching sounds. He stumbled to the nearest reflective surface, his hands instinctively touching his face, expecting to find some kind of damage.

What the demon saw instead took his breath away. There, etched into the corner of his screen was a symbol glowing slightly blue against the digital backdrop of his own face. Vox's fingers traced the newly formed soulmate tattoo, his cool demeanor giving way to shock.

Dropping to his knees, Vox gazed at his reflection, did this mean he had a soulmate…in fucking hell? "This can't be true... what in the everlasting pits of hell!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, you awoke in Hell with a scream, pain coursing through your body. Gone were the wings that had once defined you, a sacrifice made in pursuit of a love believed lost. Biting your hand you tried to stifle your pained moans until you broke the delicate skin and tasted metal on your tongue. Clutching your angel blade, you tried your best to slowly raise and move forward.

As fast as you could, you ventured into the dark corners of Hell, shedding your celestial wardrobe for something more fitting your new, infernal life. As you adjusted a makeshift belt, hiding the blade within the folds of your clothes, a gruff voice interrupted your thoughts. "Hey, whore! Want some of old Gregg's pieces?" a giant snail-like creature grumbled from the shadows.

With a twitch of your eye, you spun around, your hand instinctively reaching for the hidden blade. "If you value your better parts, I suggest you kindly fuck off," you replied, your words wrapped in a veneer of politeness, belying the threat they carried.

The snail recoiled, mumbling, "Your loss, bitch," before retreating into the darkness. Trembling, you fought the urge to vomit, the reality of Hell's horrors crashing down upon you. *This better be worth it,* you thought, steeling yourself for the journey ahead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Bitch! This changes everything!" Velvette's voice was a shrill crescendo, echoing off the walls of the fancy and modern room. Her hands slammed down on the table with such force that Vox wouldn't have been surprised if she left imprints in the metal.

Vox, his screen flickering with a mixture of irritation and disbelief, replied with measured calmness, "This changes nothing. The possibility of having a soulmate now doesn't mean I'll suddenly become a lovestruck fool." His words were a growl, a digital rumble that resonated in the smoky air.

Valentino, lounging nonchalantly next to them, took a long drag of his cigarette. The pink smoke curled lazily around them, creating a haze that seemed to blur the lines of reality. "Mhh, didn't seem like it yesterday while I was wiping your seed off my mouth. You were tumbling to the next possible surface your cock still half hard and your body trembling in fear," he quipped, a sly smile playing on his lips, his golden tooth catching the light in a glint of mockery.

"You son of a—," Vox began, his anger boiling over, but his screen glitched, forcing him back into a facade of control. "This means nothing. They mean nothing. I've already commissioned someone to take care of them," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Yet, to anyone observing closely enough, there was a flicker of something else behind his stern expression – a hint of confusion, a shadow of sadness that he was too proud to show.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, as you moved through the infernal landscape of Hell, pain and determination were your constant companions. The idea of finding your soulmate was a beacon in the darkness, a glimmer of hope amidst the despair. You needed to warn them of Heaven's new plans.

The revelation of your soulmate had come as a shock in Heaven. Had you believed that they were already dead while living on earth. The sight of the headphone tattoo on your wrist, reminding you of your earthly passions, had ignited a spark of excitement when arriving in heaven. But the seraphim's pitying look quickly doused that flame.

They had showed you. Seeing him in Hell, a digital demon ruling with three other overlords, your world had turned upside down. A soulmate in Hell meant a love that could never be. 

But Chalrie’s revelation of Hell's extermination had changed everything. You had to act; you had to save your soulmate. Now, as a fallen being, you were determined to reach him, to save what little was left of your heart and his life.

Every step in Hell was a battle, each breath a reminder of the sacrifice you had made. But it was a sacrifice you were willing to bear. For a soulmate you didn't know was worth the trouble. For a chance at a love that might still survive in the depths of Hell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vox zipped through the surveillance network, until he materialized in his headquarters. With a heavy, resonant sigh, he collapsed into his office chair. The weight of the revelation hung over him like a dense cloud.

"Shit," he muttered to himself, the word a static-laced hiss in the quiet of the room. The notion of a soulmate had upended his world.

In Hell, such connections were rare, almost mythical. Usually such bonds only connected the living on earth one said. They were powerful, yes, but also dangerously vulnerable - a leverage point that could be exploited by his enemies.

But as much as he was reluctant to admit it, he didn't want harm to come to his soulmate. The problem was, he had no idea what to do next. Lost in thought, he turned his head to the left, only for his screen to glitch violently, sending a ripple through the layers of Hell, ending in a short blackout.

"What the fuck!" The words slipped out in a whisper as everything flickered back to life, revealing the image of a figure decimating his security team. An angelic blade gleamed in their hand.

His processors strained as he watched them. They moved with a lethal grace, cutting down one after the other, hurting but not killing them. Then, in a bold, almost defiant gesture, they looked directly into the camera, hood falling back to reveal their face. A face that stopped Vox's non existent heart one would say.

They were stunning, their eyes meeting his through the lens, a middle finger raised in a gesture of rebellious challenge.

In less than a second, Vox was standing before them, his form materializing out of the digital ether. "Do you know, little one, who the fuck I am?" he growled, his voice a blend of menace and awe.

"Yes indeed, I am your soulmate, and I'm here to kick your ass and save your pathetic life, asshole," you retorted, a grin playing on your lips that bordered on madness.

Vox couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration, his circuits firing in a way they hadn't in eons. This was the most thrilling encounter he'd experienced in both his life and afterlife.

And then you collapsed into his arms, your back covered in blood. “Shit!”, he said before taking you home, where you belonged from now on.

As always thank you guys for reading ❤️

[killerhybrid]

Hello again! I am back with some information on the Star species. Sun here is happily allowing me to use him as an example of the common type of Stars you may come across in space. Thank you Sun!

Sun: It's my pleasure! I'm happy to help.

Sun here is a yellow/orange star, he's in his small form as that is the only way to get a good look at him in close distance. Flames and flares decorate his head, tail and wing membrane. He can control these depending on the emotion and amount of fuel he currently has. A happy star is a full star after all. He's very happy right now so his flames are high, he's very bright and they are moving much more rapidly due to the energy. Also having claws similar to Moon from earlier, that is a constant from any celestial really. He also has spike plates like moon but they are much larger and point upwards rather than back. More for protection than anything else. I recommend that you never anger a star either, that can set their heat on high and they will easily burn everything around them. And if that doesn't do it, the fact they are nuclear is worse. You can die of radiation exposure if the star doesn't kill you themselves. You must be careful around strange stars you don't know.

Sun: a great way to earn a star's kindness is with food! That's a great way to be non threatening, poisons don't work on us cause it just burns up as soon as it's consumed.

Mhm! A star's internal temperature is scorching hot so any and all fuel is quickly burned. You'll always catch a star eating due to this. Thank you for reminding me Sun

Sun: anytime Sunbeam!

That's all the time I have unfortunately but sun wants to stay here and answer any questions if people have any. I best be going and thank you for spending your time here today!

Sun: *sits* I'm ready! Good luck Sunbeam!

[cherubchoirs]

Do the siblings ever Show Lucifer the testament god left about him? Man's gotta be depressed already over something so preventable :[

did something a bit different and wrote a small one-shot for this - it's an idea i've had stuck in my head, about just what it would mean for lucifer to find god's regret and how it could possibly find a way into a mind so thoroughly consumed with hatred for him (~1300 words)

Lucifer stands frozen before the terminal, locked into an infinitely receding space that reduces everything that surrounds him to a single room. A single display. He is impossibly small, flattened, compressed into it until only he and this feeble echo of God remain. A poor replica of what they once had been at the start of everything, just before creation exploded out into its unfathomable expanse when Lucifer was bursting with light and God was the entire universe. Lucifer now, a smoldering, hollow shell and God only words on a screen.

            Nothing like His true voice. A language of images and abstractions woven into visual song.

If this was the way it was always meant to end, that would be its only justification. A long game, a damnation incomplete until it brought him before this one screen and the meager text displayed on it. How insignificant, how indifferent they are, the very banality of evil. Lucifer would read the words until they began to blur together and he could make them out as some trick of Hell, how he strains to hear laughter thrumming through its halls. But it’s quiet, almost distant, as though the prison itself has retreated from him now. And how it should.

            All of this, come to nothing.

The pitiful flame still in his belly burns in a terrible ache, that last living part of God unable to withstand this regret. It never had to be, the first and oldest tragedy rendered meaningless. The thought locks into his mind, rapidly consuming it until he has nothing else beneath it or before it. He would dig his fingers into his own eye if tearing it out would take away what he now knows. It was so much better to think his beloved Father had turned to hatred of him for reasons he would never parse, he could live in perfect hatred toward Him in kind if that was their fate. He hated, and hated, and hated, devoured whole and corrupted down to his very core, his entire fabric, to turn into an antithesis of his maker. Thousands of years immeasurable to become the distilled poison of God, eviscerated by his grief and carrying all the bodies of those dead angels in his own to cultivate a vile evil unknown to any other than Lucifer.

But it was never returned. Lucifer perpetually and ever all-ignorant, loved endlessly by a Father that had sent him so far it had devoured God just as it had the Devil. How he would have helped, false memories crashing into his mind to temporarily dislodge that one looping, intractable truth – if God had found an answer for him in that moment, if He had responded in truth to His child’s anxiety. How Lucifer would have served Him then, risen up to be the perfect son in the mold he had been made and how his love would have burned ever brighter in the face of it. A whole history that would have been unravels in an instant, showing all of what he could have been in full clarity.

And Lucifer recoils from it.

He does not feel that way his hands begin to burn, molten cracks bursting all along the cindered remains of his arm and shining through his gutted insides. The light of God Himself, so torturous to the walls of Hell all around him that it screams, writhing and twisting but unable to eject him from the terminal before him, unable to shut the room away in the face of the very primordial force that had made it. Flames burst forth, flashing in now terribly billowing smoke, threatening to consume the entire space yet nullified instantly by the shrill light of the sun, the very essence of the Celestial Rose petrifying all it now touches.

Lucifer flares, the mantle of his flames consuming his broken body barely able to now sustain them, the train of his wings corroding every surface they touch. The dead air breathes into life not meant for it and so dies a second time, Hell rushing to quarantine his fire as it rapidly spreads to turn its body necrotic. Lucifer himself too burned down, his ashes crying out against his own awful divinity and yet he feels none of it. He sees only the words in front of him.

AN ANGEL SO BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL ASKED ME THIS…

His right hand finds the terminal screen, display flickering and just as soon burning through, before he even touches it.

AND I CAST LUCIFER, TOO, INTO THE INFERNAL DEN

Upon slightest contact, the metal and circuitry of the terminal are no more and he is flooded with the holy word instead.

ONCE I REALIZED WHAT I HAD JUST DONE…

I COULD ONLY WEEP

It strikes down to his core, sending deep pulses of an unspeakable, unfathomable grief through his reignited flames. Lucifer retracts into himself for the pain, for the abundant, wracking tears that burn away before they can even leave his eye. Yet in them, his world rapidly begins to expand again, away from the words he’s now eliminated, away from the memories of a life that could have been. The Testament explodes through his mind, God’s true voice in the unlimited capacity only ever heard by Lucifer and now rejected by him in his immutable hatred. It is done.

Soon, he hears the wailing of Hell; Lucifer casts his gaze finally unfrozen to a room now greatly altered around him. His hand is badly broken open, embers left behind in a flame that has once again fallen into a deep sleep, but he has done much more damage to his friend. It feels his regret and knows his apologies, evident through its slow quieting as Lucifer himself straightens to stand once more. He moves himself quickly over now ashen ground, not wishing to prolong the residual trembling left in it; he departs from what’s left of the room and it is gone behind him. Excised, and all is silent. He supposes they won’t speak for a while now.

He steps back out into a part of Hell barely recognizable as such – A dawn slowly breaks over the water stretching out in front of him. The sun is steady rising, sedate as it comes over the horizon in soft washes of color he remembers once painting himself. How now his ignorance has been reduced, seemingly to a cruel extent and yet it’s so much smaller than it seems. He had seen the alternative in what could have been, and he sees it now in this morning. To paint always, to serve forever.

If his Father had loved him all that time, if He had regretted His choice each passing day and if it contributed to His own demise…it can only be Good. God had loved him so, and Lucifer had grown in hatred in those same exact days. God’s sorrow and His death do nothing to him, they cannot change what He Himself had made in His first son – Godly, sinless hatred. He imprisoned Lucifer in the deepest pit, made him wholly wretched and placed all ugliness, all blame, all suffering onto one child to preserve His Paradise. Yet in butchering him so, He had freed him from unending, unthinking servitude.

The Archangels that had brought him there gather to him cautiously. They know Hell has swallowed the room he had stood in, they can see the damage done to his hand – Raphael offers to heal him, but no more words are exchanged. It would be pointless to elucidate his feelings anyway, all of them unable to comprehend just what he has become and what he now wishes to be. He was born illuminated with Love, the Prince of Heaven and High Priest of the choirs, and to this day he could be singing the constant refrain of the seraphim around the throne of God in his once perpetual adoration. What a small, incomplete world he would have lived in.

Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heaven.

[talonabraxas]

Sun in Scorpio

The Lesson of the Sun in Scorpio

Scorpio, the eighth sign of the zodiac, starts around 23 October and brings about a state of constant transformation and renewal. These two facts, however, are frequently invisible.

Scorpio has no attachment to routine or appearance. Far from it. Its general pattern of vibration includes a profound intimacy with the process of sudden change.

The influences of this sign are difficult to predict or classify. Scorpio stimulates life or death. It spreads decay or regeneration and provokes various kinds of transmutation according to the Karmic possibilities of circumstances.

This is one of the signs under which a true warrior can be born. Yet a wise warrior must fight for a noble cause. His only enemy is ignorance, mainly his own lack of wisdom, and secondarily the naiveté belonging to others.

As one deals with the energy of Scorpio, it is wise to choose brightness rather than its opposite, and to work for the creative renewal of life-structures, not for their demolition. Spiritual law invites Scorpio to prefer sowing rather than reaping, and to promote an intelligent construction of life, instead of the easy yet unfortunate temptation to merely destroy.

Belonging to the Water element, Scorpio has Pluto as its main ruler. Mars, the co-ruler, was the only patron of Scorpio until the small planet Pluto was discovered in 1930.

In Scorpio, autumn unfolds in the Northern Hemisphere, and spring gains momentum in the Southern half of the planet. Life has now less physical light, or more light – depending on where you live. But Light governs Life across the twelve months of the year. If you see the world from a deep and accurate point of view, you know that it is enlightened all the time.

The light of the Sun is present in every atom. The Law forces Scorpio to transcend outward forms. Sooner or later – in this lifetime or in a future one – the spiritual soul learns to become an agent of healthy changes in life. It does so by working with that inner and spiritual light that never fades. This is one of the secret aspects of the lesson of the Sun in Scorpio.

Ultimately, every spiritual soul belongs to the transcendent realm of universal harmony.

In the territory of Scorpio, the individual seeks for an experience of total unity with other beings and with the totality of life. But the evolutionary journey will not end here. Several lessons remain unlearned: it takes time to get to the final stage symbolized by Pisces. Imperfect levels of Scorpio are clumsy or careless at times, and prefer sudden explosions to intelligent action. Scorpio is powerfully impulsive as long as it does not have a stable understanding of the universe. Part of its intention in the objective world is invisible. To immature souls, disloyalty is sometimes a temptation.

Anna Maria Costa Ribeiro sees three kinds of Scorpio individuals, or three levels of consciousness, one of which must be more powerful and predominate in each situation or lifetime. This will depend on the knowledge possessed by the soul:

* The lower animal Scorpio is marked with vice, cruelty, the habit of manipulation and mediocrity. His poison is always ready to be used any time, everywhere.

* The eagle Scorpio is interested in the celestial mysteries. He is aware of his own strength. Nothing defeats him, for he flies above terrestrial problems.

* The dove or phoenix Scorpio corresponds to the pure Spirit. He has transcended the world of desire. He is the true mystic, the healer of souls. He was reborn on another level of life. With an iron determination, he burns his impurities in the regenerating fire of truth eternal.

Scorpio is the sign of death, of resurrection and rebirth. Hence creativity, struggle, and the occult world have a special, direct relation to it. The sign intensely stimulates the search for truth as it helps the soul prepare itself for the great battle ahead – the life-and-death struggle of winter in the northern hemisphere.

The great secret of the future battle is the rebirth of the Sun, the Initiate, or Jesus in the Christian tradition.

Winter itself does not appear in Scorpio. It will be received by a more confident and stable sign, Sagittarius, as the optimist and fiery centaur sign gets ready to transmit the torch of time to Capricorn, in the second half of December.

The mission of Scorpio is to harbor life during the first preparatory phase of difficulties in the transition to winter. Facing the obstacles of autumn is like making military exercises before a fierce battle. When things get tougher, Scorpio passes the torch to Sagittarius. Acting under the guidance of Jupiter – the master of Optimism and Compassion – Sagittarius has an absolute confidence in the bright future that is right now waiting for Life. The centaur archer goes firmly ahead and pays scarce attention to obstacles.

The highest point of the yearly battle for life is ruled by the old wisdom and stable patience of one of the most careful signs: Capricorn.

The days of Capricorn will open the door to the New Year in Christian time. This part of the Zodiac is guided by Saturn, the judge of actions and the master of Time and Karma. Seen from the Earth, the collective spirit of Saturn is the Lord of the Rings, the most Ancient One, the Initiator, the guardian of the inner limits of our solar system.

The Key of Firmness

Stephen Arroyo highlights the fact that like Pisces and Cancer – the other Water signs -, Scorpio can use the practice of firmness as a tool to overcome its own limitations.

“Watery people need to be firm with themselves”, says Arroyo, and he adds that firmness is also the best way for other people to deal with persons of the Water element.

The Yoga of Patanjali says in Book II, aphorisms 33-34 that wrong ideas must be replaced by its correct opposites.

In Astrology, opposite signs are teachers of one another. The sign opposite to Scorpio is Taurus, which happens to be precisely one of the firmest and most stable of the Zodiac.

The inner dialogue of Taurus and Scorpio establishes a fine symmetrical balance whose results are peace and strength; wisdom and stability; free transcendence and a practical view of life, calmly built on solid ground.

Image: Astronomicum cæsareum, 1540

[windvexer]

why wouldnt you suggest doing that?

I believe we're in reference to this.

[...] an enchantment thats powered/recharged by any nearby extra energies that fit its purpose (ex. if i had a necklace enchanted to protect, then anything its by that has “protective” energies—like idk even just a locked door or something—, itll automatically take it and use it to charge itself [...]

It's not the automatic recharge that gives me pause, but the nature of harvesting all energies that are "protective."

This is because of my personal beliefs on how protection works.

If we take common correspondence keywords like "protection" or "cleansing," I believe these words summarize the end result. I do not believe they are descriptive of how the magic works.

We can make a protection out of piss, rusty nails, broken glass, and dead wasps. This would be protective, and it would radiate protective energies.

We can make a protection out of lavender, rose quartz, rosemary, and braided white thread. This would be protective, and it would radiate protective energies.

However, it's my experience that if you wear the rusty-nails-dead-wasp protection, it's going to be a lot different than the lavender-rose quartz protection. It will make you feel different, it will protect you in different ways, and it will make the people who unknowingly interact with it feel differently.

A locked door keeps things out and can trap things in. A protective prayer can evoke divine energies. A protective plant can burn, agitate, or poison. A protective stone can ground out energies.

All of these things together, selected indiscriminately from the keyword "protection," seems like it would make a very chaotic enchantment that could act unpredictably based on whatever kind of energy it's been absorbing.

And if the idea is that the enchantment filters and transforms energy before it uses it, then you wouldn't need to absorb protective energy at all - any environmental energy would do, since it's being transformed anyway.

I would probably just decide what I want the protection to do (e.g., keep people out, harm interlopers, hide things, etc) and then link it up to a celestial body that radiates that power (like saturn, mars, or the moon). To me that just seems a lot more predictable, which is what I want from a protective object.

[katy-l1988]

Zestmilla week: Day 3

Mythical Au

The Aegean Sea teemed with mythical beasts, but none struck more terror into sailors' hearts than the sirens. Zestial, battle-scarred captain of the royal fleet, had grown up hearing tales of these creatures whispered in taverns and around cooking fires—beings of otherworldly beauty whose voices could reduce the strongest men to helpless puppets.

Their song, it was said, carried on the wind like honey-sweet poison, enchanting crews to steer their ships straight into treacherous reefs. The sirens would watch from their rocky perches, golden hair gleaming in the moonlight, as vessel after vessel splintered against the stones. The lucky ones drowned quickly. The others…Zestial had seen their bones scattered across hidden coves, picked clean by creatures better left unnamed.

As a sworn protector of the realm, Zestial could no longer ignore the mounting deaths. These weren't mere monsters—they were Hades' own servants, released from the Underworld to sow chaos among the living. Each report brought darker news: entire trading fleets vanished, fishing villages found abandoned, their boats rotting at empty docks.

On the night of the new moon, when darkness lay thick as wool across the water, Zestial gathered his most trusted warriors. Two hundred men who had faced hydras and gorgons at his side now stood silent on the deck of his flagship, their bronze armor darkened with soot to dull its shine. Their target was no ordinary siren—they hunted the queen herself, whose voice was said to drive men mad with a single note.

Zestial ran his thumb along the edge of his blessed sword, its celestial bronze gleaming with faint blue light. By dawn, either her head would adorn the palace walls as warning to Hades' other creatures, or his men would join the countless bones littering the seafloor. There would be no middle ground in this hunt.

They hunted for months across treacherous waters. The sea ran red with the blood of slaughtered merfolk, their scaled bodies and iridescent tails floating in the foam like broken jewels. Zestial's men became efficient killers, learning to stuff their ears with wax and strike before their prey could sing. Each raid left more rocky outcrops silent, more underwater caves empty—but still the queen eluded them.

Hundreds of her kind fell to bronze and steel. Some fought back with tooth and claw, others pleaded for mercy in voices that could shatter marble. Zestial told himself this was justice, that each death brought safety to his people. But in the dark hours before dawn, their faces haunted him—so similar to human women in their final moments, tears mixing with salt spray.

"Captain, there's a storm brewing!" Theron's voice cut through the wind, his weathered face twisted with concern as he gripped the ship's rail. The old sailor had weathered a hundred gales, and Zestial had never seen such fear in his eyes.

"How serious is it?" Zestial's words were nearly lost in a sudden gust that set the rigging shrieking.

"Like nothing I've seen in thirty years at sea, sir." Theron pointed to the horizon where unnatural green clouds boiled up from the water itself. "The waves... they're moving against the wind. This is no natural tempest."

Lightning flashed in impossible colors—white, red, and a sickly shade of gold that left afterimages burned in their vision. Each thunderclap carried echoes of singing, a chorus of dead sirens calling out for vengeance.

"Your orders, sir?" Theron's knuckles were white on his sword hilt. Around them, the crew scrambled to secure lines, their movements frantic but futile against the rising supernatural storm.

Was that the moment Zestial heard it? It wasn’t the siren song he’d been hearing for the past few months, but a low, mournful wail that seemed to rise from the depths of the ocean. It spoke not of seduction or dreams, but of loss and rage so deep it made his bones ache. Drawn to the bow, he peered through the curtains of rain to see a lone figure perched on a distant rock. Unlike his kin, he sported no glistening scales or a handsome façade.

The queen had found them.

"Is that…?" Theron asked.

"Yes, yes it is."

Her scream tore through the night, a sound of pure malevolence that shattered minds and wills alike. Thirty of Zestial's men lurched overboard like puppets, while the rest turned their swords on each other in a frenzy. Blood mixed with rain on the deck as brother fought brother.

But Zestial remained clear-headed—an old war wound had left him nearly deaf years ago, when a Persian explosive had detonated too close to his position. Now, that cursed injury became his shield.

While the queen was lost in her destructive song, he slipped into the churning waters. Fighting against waves that seemed alive with hatred, he circled behind her rocky perch. His waterlogged armor threatened to drag him down, but he pressed on, using each lightning flash to guide his approach. The queen, drunk on her own power and the chaos she'd created, never sensed him climbing up behind her. The celestial bronze blade kissed her throat, silencing her song mid-note. The storm seemed to hold its breath with her.

"Turn. Slowly," Zestial commanded, his voice rough with salt spray.

She complied with an otherworldly grace. Silver hair like moonlit silk cascaded over her face, parting to reveal features that struck him speechless. This was no demon from Hades' realm—her beauty transcended anything mortal or infernal. Her eyes held the depths of ages, luminescent as starlight on still water. Every story he'd been told, every assumption about her origins in the underworld, crumbled before the reality of her presence.

"Come on, soldier… get this over with," she whispered, her voice now stripped of its supernatural power, revealing something achingly human beneath. "Do it!" she commanded, tilting her head to better expose her throat to his blade.

But her defiance cracked like thin ice, revealing layers of pain beneath. In her ancient eyes, Zestial saw not malice but a bone-deep weariness that mirrored his own—the exhaustion of someone who had lost too much to too many wars.

Keeping his blade steady against her throat, Zestial sank to his knees on the rain-slick stone. Their faces drew close enough that he could feel her breath, cold as deep ocean currents, against his skin. Her scent was an intoxicating mixture of sea spray and something older, more primal—like petrichor from the world's first storm. "Is it not enough?" she hissed, her words carrying the weight of a mother's grief. "Having slaughtered my daughters, do you now wish to toy with their mother?"

This close, he could see the delicate patterns in her skin that seemed to shift like sunlight through waves, the subtle glow that emanated from within. His sword hand trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the maddening desire to lower his blade, to give in to this forbidden fascination.

Then her eyes blazed with a fury that could have boiled the sea itself, but behind that rage, she must have seen something in his gaze—the way it lingered too long on her lips, how his breath caught when she moved. A knowing smile played at the corners of her mouth.

"Or perhaps," then, something softened in her gaze as recognition dawned. She leaned closer, her expression a curious mix of disbelief and wonder.

"Now you see?"

"So it’s you,” she murmured. "The man who threw himself from the cliffs… yet somehow lived."

Zestial’s heart pounded, memories flooding back to a distant night when he had nearly met his end. He remembered flinging himself from that ledge, the angry sea swallowing him whole, his broken body washing up on a hidden shore. He had drifted in and out of consciousness, barely aware of a figure pulling him from the water, cradling him as the tide receded.

“You brought me to shore,” he said, his voice thick with a forgotten ache. He remembered the faint warmth of hands on his skin, the feeling of being cared for—an echo that had lingered in his mind for years, like a ghost of a melody.

"I thought you would forget…but you returned. Always to that same place."

"Always..."

Her voice hardened, and her gaze, once tender, darkened with fury. She pulled away, her hands clenched into fists, trembling with the weight of her anger.

"Of all men, it was you," she spat. "The man I saved, the man I watched return to life—and you repay me by killing my children? Was this your gratitude?"

Zestial’s face fell, a pang of shame piercing him as he met her furious gaze. He tried to speak, but she silenced him with a look of pure loathing.

"Had I known what you would become," she continued, her words biting like salt in a wound, "I would have left you to the sea. Perhaps then, my daughters would still live. Perhaps then, we would have peace."

His voice, heavy with resignation, broke through the silence between them. "If it hadn’t been me, it would have been another," he replied, his tone weary but firm. "The king would never allow sirens to live unchecked. You must know this. You know how men are."

She scoffed, her expression twisted with pain. "And you’re no different. Just another soldier. Another man who’d take everything from us without a thought."

"Don’t speak as if you were innocent," Zestial retorted. "Your daughters have claimed thousands of human lives."

"And humans have taken millions of ours!" she snapped, fury blazing in her eyes. Her voice shook as she continued, each word laced with bitter resentment. "Humans have kills us for sport, for fresh meat, to use our bodies to fulfill their lust. We’ve been hunted for black magic, for promises of eternal life. All we ever did was defend ourselves… defend me. Their mother..."

Then, there was movement behind him. Zestial spun around, raising his sword.

"No, please don’t!" Her voice broke through, filled with desperation.

Two young sirens stood there, barely more than children, their wide eyes staring up at him with a mixture of fear and innocence. They clung to each other, trembling.

"They’re no threat…please, leave them be," she pleaded, her voice softer now, raw with emotion.

Zestial hesitated, then slowly lowered his sword and sheathed it. "They’re the last… aren’t they?"

Zestial took a step closer, gauging her reaction.

“Huh. The king desires your head as a trophy,” he explained, his voice steady but urgent. “But I won’t take your life.”

Her expression softened slightly, but skepticism lingered in her eyes.

“Perhaps a scale,” he suggested, glancing at her shimmering skin. “Or something similar. A piece of you that would convince him of your demise without taking your life. It must be something he can hold, something he can see and touch—a mark that signifies the end of your reign over these waters.”

She considered his words, the storm of emotions swirling within her. “A scale…” she murmured, looking at her daughters. “It would have to be a significant one, one that proves I am no longer here.”

“Yes,” Zestial agreed, a glimmer of hope igniting in his chest. “Just a single scale, and I will ensure you and your daughters remain safe from the madness of men.”

"Alright then."

Zestial returned to his ship, the weight of his secret heavy on his shoulders. As he stepped onto the deck, the sight of his comrades greeted him. They looked up expectantly, eager to hear of his conquest. He lied effortlessly, spinning a tale of triumph and bravery that they swallowed whole. The sky above them had cleared, and the sea had calmed, reinforcing their belief in his story. With a renewed sense of camaraderie, they set sail for the kingdom, their spirits high.

Once in the grand hall of the palace, Zestial presented the shimmering scale to the king, claiming it as a trophy from the slain siren queen. The ruler's eyes sparkled with greed as he took the scale, placing it into his crown as a precious gem.

A celebration erupted, filled with feasting and revelry that lasted for days and nights. The hall echoed with laughter and music, yet Zestial felt an unsettling emptiness gnawing at him, a discontent that shadowed the joy around him. As the days turned into nights, he began to notice something disturbing—many of the soldiers who had participated in the expedition started to disappear during the nights of celebration. At first, it seemed like nothing more than drunken escapades, but as more and more faces grew absent, Zestial’s unease deepened. He was the only one who sensed that something was amiss, while his fellow revelers remained blissfully ignorant.

One night, amid the laughter and clinking of goblets, he heard a familiar, haunting laughter that stirred something deep within him. It was the same laughter that had echoed through the chaos of the storm, a sound that cut through the haze of merriment like a blade. He turned, hope fluttering in his chest, only to be met by the haze of celebration and the faces of revelers, oblivious to the growing shadows.

Disappointed and increasingly suspicious, Zestial decided to leave the festivities behind. The joyous noise became a dull roar in his ears as he stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against his skin, refreshing yet filled with tension. Just as he began to collect his thoughts, he felt a presence behind him. Instinctively, he raised his sword, ready for whatever threat lay in the shadows. But as he turned, he was met with a chilling sight: the queen stood there, her mouth stained with blood, an unsettling smile playing on her lips.

“Good to see you, Captain,” she purred, her voice a seductive blend of danger and allure.

"How...?" he stammered, surprise etching his features as he struggled to comprehend her presence in the heart of the royal stronghold.

She laughed, a melodious sound that sent a shiver down his spine. "Did you really think I was bound to the sea? I can walk as you do, captain. The waters do not confine me; they only enhance what I am."

"But why are you here? What do you want from me?"

"From you? Nothing. I just came to claim your soldiers' debts."

Zestial's brow furrowed in confusion. "Debts?"

"Each life taken in my waters has a price, Captain. You already paid, but they haven't."

He felt a chill run down his spine. "You mean to take revenge?"

"Not revenge—retribution," she clarified, her gaze unwavering.

Zestial's expression hardened as he contemplated her proposal. "What if I offered to pay their debt with my life?"

She laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that sent shivers down his spine. "You think too highly of yourself, Captain. Your life isn’t worth the weight of a single scale from my daughters."

He clenched his fists, desperation driving him to find another way. "Then what if I offered to be your slave? I would serve you, and only you. I would give you everything—my loyalty, my labor. A home, food, riches… I would dedicate my life to you and your daughters."

Her laughter faded, replaced by an intrigued glint in her eyes. "A bold offer, indeed. But what makes you think I would want a human as a servant?"

"I can be useful," he insisted, stepping closer, urgency in his voice. "I know the ways of men, their weaknesses. I can help you navigate their world. Together, we could forge an alliance, one that could protect your kind from further slaughter."

The queen studied him, her lips curling into a thoughtful smirk. "You would willingly give up your freedom for a chance to save your comrades? How noble."

"Not noble—practical," he replied, feeling the weight of her gaze. "If I can secure peace between our peoples, perhaps I can prevent more bloodshed. And if I must pay for their sins with my own life, so be it."

She considered his words, her expression shifting as she contemplated the implications. "Very well, Captain. I accept your offer. But remember this: once you enter my service, there is no turning back. Your life will belong to me, and I will decide your fate."

Zestial nodded, determination filling him. "I understand. But I will not falter in my commitment to you."

"Then we have a deal," she said, a glimmer of satisfaction in her voice. "Now, go and retrieve what is owed. Your journey begins now, my devoted servant."

Pd: If you want to know more, I could write more.

[crystalstylehexagon]

"The Light and Darkness Reversed"

Looking at their In-game moves from Naruto Ninja Storm and League of Legends, they're basically analogies of one another: Their Kit is similar, and their ultimate is literally the same. Both destroy things out of seeking "Justice", though Kayle is BLINDED by the "Just and glorious light", following in the shadow, much like Indra to Kaguya, of her mother, Mihira, who is the true aspect, if not, the holy light itself. This analogy works well with Indra as well, not only unknowingly walking under his grandmother's shadow, but also his father's. He, before fully coming to be evil, is the man who had been strict and a relentless teacher canon-wise, he was a "Just", or "By the book" type of character, or in other words, the perfect soldier/heir for his father, only to be betrayed by the very own ideals he stood for and this might just also be the case for Kayle.

This will turn into a giant post, but bear with me.

That reminds me,

We can't forget

Ashura and Morgana The Fallen:

While Morgana's Ideals of rebellion take a similar path to Indra's, binding her wings out of spite for her kin, the ascended (People who gain powers through a holy  variety of magic, chiefly celestial magic, granting them the ability to become something more than human, channeling that power through their connection to the celestial entities), sore the ground, to feel what humanity really was about, to find out why her sister spited them and called them "Deceivers and the unjust".

she's not driven by vengeance against her own kin, nor is fully spiteful towards them, especially her just-blinded sister, but driven with the hopes of making her sister and the ascended see the beauty of mortality, of making mistakes, of love and pain, of fear, so Kayle could see what she saw in these humans.

This was also a way to stop her sister from bringing forth the "Judgement day" (basically something out of a bible story. What else do you expect from good and evil story?), meaning she would "vanquish the evil and filth from this world." even if it meant burning the planet alive from the inside out granted by the flames of her mother.

Guess who else holds the ideology for love of humanity?

Ashura.

Aside from the still-confused Hagoromo, Ashura outside of all of the Otsutsuki was an empath. From a young age, he seemed talentless, despite being the son of Hagoromo, the sage of six paths, so he spent a lot of that time playing with children his age, helping out and loved his brother very much, but slowly, their relationship grew colder

Indra, much like Kayle was afraid of making mistakes, being the perfect son, following the path of ninshu, which we could arguably call the path of "ascension from something beyond human", teaching humans how to unlock their superhuman talents, but much like every mentor, he was biased towards strength, especially as black zetsu slowly poisoned his mind.

While Kayle was afraid of feeling pain, Indra honed it to his advantage, and with that he unshackled himself and became something, not human, but back when Ashura was away and he taught ninshu, he shared same sentiment as Kayle did.

"I must feel nothing to fight injustice" - "To find grace, I cannot rest, I will not" - "I have given up everything for the light" - "The law does not tolerate imperfection. I am no exception." "If I slip, I will fall, so I must fly." - Kayle.

And Indra before finding out he was, in fact- was not the inheritor of ninshu, basically shared the same ideals. He was afraid of being imperfect, he was afraid to make mistakes at that point, he was doing everything by the book, knowing he was superior to his brother, he gave up his childhood because he was given a promise of a rightful inheritance, he knew this, he was born for this.

But he got screwed over and completely fell into the abyss of darkness and rebelled and from what I can tell, Kayle's story is going there as well: To sacrifice your whole life for a cause, only to find out you were fighting on the wrong side/get absorbed by your mother (Probably, this is just my theory.)

And then, when she would know pain, she would probably take a similar path as Indra did: Vengeance and hatred.

(Mihira: mother of Kayle and Morgana)

Then we, once again have Morgana and Ashura: The empaths who took the side of humanity, who in a way rebelled against their own system and decided to explore what being human was like; hence, Ashura's Journey.

As we know, Ashura came back home much later than Indra, and that was because he accomplished great feats. While Indra was looked onto as a god for his power, Ashura humbled himself, working with what he had honed from his ninshu training, and he worked HARD for it.

Eventually he, in a way, became a part of this community and even gained followers from his journey back, told his story to Hagoromo and hence got chosen, because not only Hagoromo saw a strange darkness in Indra,(I can't live that down, like, how could he not suspect. He has THREE EYES for fuck's sake, counting his marking as the third eye.) but because he saw HIMSELF in Ashura. He remembered his journey, his bonds and his connections with people. He saw all that was good in him (Basically the Cain and Able analogy).

And guess who does the same thing? Morgana

While she conflicted between her celestial and mortal natures, Morgana bound her wings to embrace humanity and inflicted her pain and bitterness upon the dishonest and the corrupt. She rejects laws and traditions she believes are unjust and fights for truth from...

While this may sound like Indra, i'd say it is more of an Ashura analogy.

Ashura, in his own way, rejected the traditional ways of ninshu and teachings of ninshu from a young age, because he was simply bad at it and got mocked for it, even in this journey, their father sent him to do... Whatever and come back and tell him the story so he could choose a successor.

Unlike Indra, Ashura, much like Morgana bound her wings, learned more about humanity, and bound himself and his overpowering ass. He instead felt the pain and suffering of humans, he felt their sorrow and cries for help, and he empathized with them. While being an extrovert, we cannot forget that Ashura was still - partially alien, and much like Kaguya, we don't know how Otsutsuki's emotions work. We only know that Kaguya hypothetically managed to humanize her emotions, actually felt them, maybe she mimicked, maybe Otsutsuki, when coming close to emotions, simply get overwhelmed by them (Stone-faced: Ishiki, Momoshiki, Urashiki, who, if you take a closer look, simply did not function like human beings, have similar emotions. It was either a stone face or a sadistic look, which points to Otsutsuki simply being born as dickheads, but you may prove me wrong since I hadn't read or watched the full Boruto series, only snippets).

And while being on earth for decades, I believe those genes got mixed and mutated, hence Ashura and Indra developing more but the inner conflict, something aching deep within would likely stay.

Because they're both basically demigods and they're alien demigods, I'm pretty sure both had some struggles and questions about their humanity and otherwise, and Ashura is a perfect example of overcoming that "darkness within". While Morgana uses darkness to inflict suffering on those who do evil, power does not matter, what matters is that these two have similar views about humanity, love, and family.

Ashura loved his brother dearly, and even at the end of the fight, he tried to check on him.

Morgana loves her sister despite all, and just like Ashura, she wants to make her sister see the truth, blinded by light, only Indra's vision was blinded by darkness.

When i watch Naruto, i come across some very interesting characters and analogies like these and I think out of all of them, this one is the most beautiful and poetic one out of all.

Siblings, ripped from one another by fate, forever to battle one another.

Darkness vs Light

only in League, the Light is the true evil.

But both of these come to the yin and yang theory: One cannot exist without the other, darkness needs light, and from mythologies, the Sun needs the Moon.

In Naruto, true evil is taken as a concept, not an actual literal thing, and I think Kishimoto tried hard to point that out with the end game and executed it beautifully: Evil does not exist, black and white make grey, it is all about the balance, hence Naruto and Sasuke:

The Moon and the Sun come together to defeat a great threat to protect their world, the cycle of hatred between Indra and Ashura ends with them, and both accept their roles in the world. Naruto being the light, and Sasuke being the Light's shadow.

And pretty much, if Riot doesn't come up with some weird shit, or drops the whole concept altogether, I believe that the path the story of Kayle's and Morgana's story will take is the same as Ashura's and Indra's/Sasuke's and Naruto's, which, out of many other Anime/Stories, is one of the most perfectly executed story, if we look at Naruto series like the "Good and Evil, Cain and Able, Lucifer and God" analogy path it had taken towards the end of Shippuden.

"Through light, we find darkness, and through that darkness, we find the light once more"

That's all i have to say about this.

[violettduchess]

Hello! I saw prompts were open, and figured I'd shoot my shot, and if you don't get to it it's fine! I don't suppose you could do the prompt "late night trysts" with Ikevamp Faust? It can be fluff or spicy, up to you! Thank you so much :)

A/N: I haven't written Faust in a long time but I saw this and immediately knew what I wanted to do. Here you go @almond-lebkuchen 💜 Vielen Dank für die Anfrage!

Faust x Reader

Prompt: Late Night Trysts, an entry for my and @lorei-writes Sunshine and Starlight CC; I went with spicy for this one.

WC: 750

It’s not a night anyone should be out. The blackened clouds tremble as they hurl piercing drops of cold water down onto the earth, battering the streets and buildings. Thunder throttles the sky, shaking loose more rain than the town has seen in a decade. It sluices between the cobblestones and clings to rattled windowpanes. Lightning angrily cracks its blinding whip across the heavens as trees bend to the will of the furious winds. Your dark cloak billows around you, fluttering angrily against the storm as it wraps itself around your legs. A hard yank sets you free as you continue hurrying across the wet stones and up the wide, slippery steps of the church. After all, you agreed to meet him, come hell or high water.

Tonight both are here.

The inside of the church is mercifully dry and quiet, a sanctuary from the muffled howling of the summer storm outside. The gray stone walls and dark wooden pews are bathed in the pale light of hundreds of small candles, placed at various spots around the inside. Shadows flicker, stretching and shrinking with the dancing of the tiny flames. They crawl along the pews and glide down the aisles. You push back your hood and then with chilled fingers, slowly remove your rain-sodden cloak. Your eyes need a moment to adjust to the dim light and your body stills as you appreciate the warmth that is slowly combating the cold on your skin. Your cloak drips as you step cautiously away from the doorway and step further into the building, leaving a dark trail of drops in your wake.

“Johann?”

How small your voice seems in comparison to the orchestra of sound raging outside.

When he steps out of the shadows, you can’t help but gasp. He’s like an apparition come alive, a shadow that has willed itself into flesh and blood. His green eyes burn even now, brighter than the small army of flickering golden flames. Wordlessly, he reaches out, taking your heavy cloak and fastidiously hangs it across one of the pews. You watch his hands as they spread out the damp material, the long fingers as they smooth out every crease. Something hot ignites inside you at the memory of those fingertips trailing ribbons of heat across your bare body.

As if he is able to read your sinful thoughts, he looks up and smiles slowly. “Liebling,” he murmurs in a voice smooth as honeyed wine, “You must forgive me. Had I known the weather would be this…..vicious, I would not have asked you to meet me.” 

There is no looking away from the gravity of his gaze, the celestial pull of those poison-green eyes. Your heart beats a wild rhythm in your chest, aching with longing, drumming with anticipation. 

“I would brave any weather, Johann, if it meant I could see you–”

Those words thunder in his ears and send an instant blitz of hunger through his veins. You’re still talking even as he moves towards you, his priestly robes swaying with the motion. He draws you to him, finally, finally, and swallows your words, drinking them down like the sweetest ambrosia. His kiss is crushing, his mouth demanding. You welcome it, sliding your arms around his neck as you yield to him, your body curving into his, softening to his demands. You never expected to fall for this man, this complicated being with his brilliant mind and ravenous appetite. 

Yet here you are, locked in his arms, trapped, stumbling your way across the aisle to one of the pews, your hand pushing through the dark sky of his hair. He sits, pulling you onto his lap, your skirt hiked up around your thighs. 

His hands are possessed, roaming impatiently over every bit of exposed skin. 

His hands are possessive, fingers digging into your flesh like a predator subduing its prey.

You revel in the power of his grip, the devotion of his tongue as it meets yours again and again. Outside, the night swells with the apex of the storm, the dark summer sky flashing pure white.

Inside the stone church, Faust growls your name....

....as you tug at his robes. 

....as he pushes you onto the pew, skirt shoved out of the way, and sinks to his knees before you. 

....as his sharp fangs bite into the soft skin of your thigh and his strong hands hold you in place.

....as the storm within suddenly howls, louder and more ferocious than anything happening outside.

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