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wordsvomit101 · 7 months ago

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That awkward moment when you realized that your big bro got laid with the person you tried to kill.

Author Notes: Credits to @eternal_auditor & @jazeswhbhaven, I got this idea for this shameless worldbuilding headcanons for Heaven and Angels thanks to both of them and the latter's "Angel Bros Headcanons: Michael Flips" post. I also just want to write the scenario in general. Warnings: Raphael is a caution flag himself, depictions of violence, thoughts of brutalizing and eating someone (being directed at MC) by Raphael, a lot of name-calling from Raphael directed at MC

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(Heaven - Time of Councils and Assemblies)

In the tranquil embrace of Heaven, evening descends like a gentle caress, casting a soft golden hue upon the timeless realm. As the radiant sun dips below the horizon of ethereal clouds, the celestial landscape is bathed in hues of pink, orange, and purple, creating a breathtaking tapestry of colors that stretches across the vast expanse of the heavenly domain. The sky is like a canvas painted lovingly by the hands of God, with the colors of a thousand sunsets, each stroke a masterpiece of divine artistry. The clouds, like celestial brushstrokes, dance across the canvas, their forms ever-changing, their edges illuminated with an ethereal glow.

Amidst the celestial splendor, angelic beings gracefully glide through the sky upon the archways of purest gold span the thoroughfares of Heaven, their graceful curves reminiscent of angelic wings in flight. Beneath these archways lie crystal atriums, their transparent walls revealing the celestial wonders of Heaven in all their resplendent glory. Their iridescent wings shimmer with divine light, flying gracefully as if they dance and pirouette in ethereal ballets, painting radiant trails of luminescence across the sky.

The lower-ranking angels engage in celestial chorales, their melodious voices intertwining in harmonies that resonate throughout the Heaven. The soaring soprano of archangels blends seamlessly with the velvety alto of cherubim, weaving a symphony that would uplift the soul and transport the listener to realms of pure bliss. The music reverberates through the celestial expanse, like a cosmic symphony conducted to worship the Almighty.

For middle-ranking angels, their beloved duty during the Pilgrimage to the Mount of Revelation to commune with their dear creator has to be despairingly pushed to merely Contemplation of Sacred Texts and attending to the Halls of Eternal Wisdom, a lesser, but an honorable duty nonetheless.

Even higher above, amidst ethereal spires and resplendent palaces that grace the heavenly expanse, angelic artisans toil diligently within the Halls of Artistry. Their deft hands sculpt magnificent statues and weave intricate tapestries, each a testament to the wonders of creation. They yearn for the day when their divine creator will bestow upon them a glimpse of their artistry, even a millisecond of recognition for their unwavering dedication to him would be more than enough.

While other angels tend to the flourishing celestial flora in the Gardens of Eternal Bliss. Radiant blooms burst forth in a splendor of colors, their petals shimmering with an otherworldly luminescence. The angels nurture these heavenly gardens with love and care, a single damage to a petal of these beautiful flowers is enough to have their heads roll to the disgusting pit of Hell, however making a mistake in God's favorite garden is an even bigger sin.

It is a mundane day for all of them.

Bang!

"Sir-!"

Creak!

"AAAAAA-!"

Crunch!

"I have yet to finish my prayer-!"

Snap!

However, it wouldn't be a normal day if there wasn't a Raphael brutally tearing and eating fleshes of every angel on his path to the Chamber of Divine Counsel to meet with other Seraphs. His blood-caked shoes thundering over polished marble as he swaggers through the vaulted corridors of Heaven, his crimson-smeared wings unfurling like banners of carnage. Red marred his short blonde hair and white attire. With each wrathful step, he leaves a trail of dismembered angel carcasses, their alabaster feathers floating like ethereal snowflakes in his wake. His crimson eye fully emits an aura of violence and fury.

Thump!

Bursting into the Chamber of Divine Counsel with enough force to make the office tremble, the room was bathed in an ethereal glow, and the other Seraphs present, Gabriel and Michael, sat in their resplendent chairs, their expressions inscrutable. Raphael's form, however, drenched in the gore of his victims, stood in stark contrast to the pristine surroundings. He only has one thought of personally feasting upon that purple hair wench's flesh when she is still alive and making her watch herself being devoured alive and cut off her tongue so she couldn't even voice out her pain.

"Why... Why is it always her...! That bitch!"

The pure white chairs, crafted from the finest celestial ivory, bore the brunt of his rage, splintering and crumbling under his kicks. Yet Gabriel and Michael, their faces devoid of emotion, paid him little attention.

"If you insist on throwing a tantrum, I implore you to do so in a realm more suited to such sorrowful displays. Hell would accommodate your temperaments more appropriately."

Michael stood tall over the intricately designed long table with a mindmap and countless brainstorming notes. Standing in a place Brother Lucifer used to stand in each council meeting. His glare locked on the furious blonde seraph before him. A frown, as if carved in stone, creased his handsome face, adding an air of solemnity to his prideful demeanor. Around his neck, a regal purple choker, embellished with ornate gold rings and shimmering gemstones, encircled his throat. At its center, a prominent gold ring held a solemn cross pendant, its gentle clinking accompanying his every movement.

In a swift motion, Michael tilted his head to the left, displaying effortless grace as he dodged the flying chair hurtling towards him at high speed. The chair collided with the wall, its impact leaving a deep dent in the panel, a testament to the force behind the throw.

"Shut that shitty mouth of yours! Maybe try to go down there yourself to ask why our dear brother is entertaining trash!" As Raphael spoke, his voice trembled with anger and frustration, his words dripping with venomous accusation. A few veins already popped on his crazed, striking appearance. Filled with unrepressed anger that led him to kill his spies who reported to him and fly from the dungeon up here.

Yet Michael continued to look at his notes, his face blissfully indifferent. His right hand continued to write on many of his papers on the white table.

"He has simply strayed from the right path."

Brother Lucifer’s footstep-less feet headed for the vile tiny red devil.

'Stop it.'

However, he couldn't say the same about his head. Memories he had been trying to wipe from his mind for years served only to haunt him. Taunting him of the gut-wrenching event more than a hundred years ago.

In the silence, pure white hands pushed through the grass and preciously held up the rotten red thing.

'Don't dirty your hands.'

His brother stroked that thing's body so softly with his hands so similar to how he once did with Michael's face. Those strong, beautiful hands that once held his face so tenderly to wipe his tears away. As he placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

'Brother...'

"I remain confident in my ability to guide him back to the right path."

His brother's hand was holding Michael’s ray of light. The light in Brother Lucifer’s hand had stopped in front of the disgusting beast's chest, unable to advance further. He was again protecting worthless things that didn't deserve his grace.

'Why did you save it?!'

When his brother finally stood before Michael on his third step, black energy, not white, began to flow from his body.

'No-NononononoNONO-'

From his beloved brother’s head, the gorgeous head of the Morning Star, bright red horns that were the same color as the vile thing that tempted him began to grow.

'Brother- Brother Lucifer please!'

"You shall witness it in due time."

"I love you, my brother. Which is why I will give you one last chance. Return."

Crack!

The force of Michael's left hand left a massive crack in the opulent crystal marble table that trailed down to the other end of it. Effectively bringing clarity back to Raphael as the blonde gazes at Michael's hard knuckle gripping the table painfully, ignoring the blood pooling down to the marble floor and further dirtying the former pristine chamber.

Michael's abrupt actions were met with an air of knowing silence from the two. It wouldn't be far-fetched if they possessed a secret understanding of his motivations that would elude outsiders.

"Hmph," a scoff rang out and pierced the silence of the room, originating from the slender man with platinum blonde hair seated to Michael's right. His face, though classically handsome with a pale complexion, remained stoic and emotionless, belying the arrogance that dripped from the single syllable he uttered.

"Then you better live up to those words."

Gabriel's lean was a graceful movement, his body sinking into the chair as if it were a throne. His arms crossed over his chest, the crisp white of his shirt contrasting sharply with the gleam of the gold chain that adorned his white jabot ruffle shirt. The fabric of his sleeves rustled softly against the delicate filigree, creating a symphony of subtle sounds that echoed through the silent room. His eyes, deep and enigmatic, surveyed the scene before him, his expression a mixture of amusement and quiet contemplation.

"Furthermore, even in his current state, Brother Lucifer still demonstrates a reverence for God. It is conceivable that his actions are merely a symptom of his yearning for God's divine presence."

In this timeless realm, where Gabriel proudly proclaims to reign supreme as the epitome of seraphic obedience, there exists but one for whom he would willingly surrender his esteemed position: Brother Lucifer. The firstborn of God's creations, Brother Lucifer's devotion to his Maker surpassed all others, earning him the title of Morning Star. His brilliance illuminated the heavens, casting an unrivaled radiance that even Gabriel's wings could not obscure.

It was Brother Lucifer who instilled within the celestial choirs the rituals and observances that expressed their gratitude to the Almighty. Yet amidst his unwavering piety, Brother Lucifer adhered to a solitary discipline known only to himself. Only a select few had glimpsed this secret regimen, elusive even to those who had followed his every step for countless eons.

Solitary would not be said without Brother Lucifer's name being attached to the word. He found solace in his own construction of hallowed sanctuaries. These Majestic Temples of Worship at odd places in Heaven served as his solitary refuge, where he could commune with the divine without the distractions of others. His devotion ignited a spark in other angels, who, inspired by his example, crafted Halls of Artistry. They sculpted countless colossal statues of the Almighty, their grandeur exceeding the limits of mortal imagination.

No one dared step one foot into his havens, they were for Brother Lucifer alone, and death would be upon those who broke that unspoken rule.

Yet there were times he allowed Gabriel to join him during Celestial Meditation in the secluded Garden of Eternal Reflection, a sacred sanctuary hidden deep within the heart of Heaven. Here, amidst the fragrant blossoms and tranquil pools, Brother Lucifer let Gabriel join his silent meditation and prayers. It was one of the highlights of Gabriel's day when his brother was still around.

"Not if he is messing with the descendant of Solomon."

Raphael's voice now had the former rage in it that reminded him of what he came here for, to be in these two insufferable presences. He could barely believe it when one of his spies uttered those words out of their useless mouth. That Lucifer? The Morning Star? His brother who despises Solomon as much as any other angel and the one that would bite another head off if they recklessly touched him even in the rendezvous night at the sacred Eternal Flame at the heart of Heaven where they allowed themselves to let loose for a bit?

It sounds fucking unbelievable, but when they show him a picture of that purple-haired vixen bumping parts with his brother, it sends him off the reels. He kills most of the spies and storms out of his favorite dungeon to here.

"Pardon?" Michael's mismatched eyes bulged, his neck creaking and twitching as he stared up at Raphael in a frenzy of incomprehension, his falsely composed display gone. The mere hint of the truth was liable to send the black-haired Seraph into a rampage and murder them all.

"Are you suggesting..." Gabriel's face, previously etched in stoicism, crumbled into a mask of horror. He couldn't believe the words that had escaped Raphael's lips, but he couldn't shake the realization that was slowly creeping upon him. He desperately wished that the words that came out of Raphael's mouth were nothing more than a cruel jest, but the look in his eyes said otherwise.

"I said, he's with the descendant of Solomon, that purple-haired harlot...that traitor....that cheat- That tempting trash!"

It pissed Raphael off even more as he raised his voice volume, veins now appearing on his throat, especially at the reminder of his text with that two-timer. The sheer self-satisfied energy radiating off his phone screen almost makes him fly down to Hell to choke that bitch until her brain pops out of her head himself.

"This is preposterous...impossible..." Michael's jaw hung slack, his eyes wide with disbelief as Raphael's accusations cut through the air like a madman who had just been cheated on. His normally steady stance faltered, replaced by a palpable sense of hysteria that made his body tremble. He stumbled backward, his back colliding with the cold, unforgiving wall as if seeking solace from the onslaught of emotions that threatened to consume him. The wall provided no comfort, its smooth surface a stark contrast to the turmoil raging through his body.

"I'm not joking. I heard her talking about Lucifer, his scar, his... 'thing'," The mere mention of his beloved brother's private part sends shivers down his spine as his voice quivered. The thought of that conniving bitch taking full advantage of the trust Brother Lucifer had placed in her made his blood boil with simmering rage. And that she dared to go against her promise to him as if those moments they shared in the poisonous sky of Hell meant nothing.

"She knows his exact measurements!- You know what, look at this shit yourself!" With a resounding slam that echoed through the room like a thunderclap, he unveiled the damning evidence: a collection of photographs frozen in time, capturing moments of intimate interaction between Lucifer and the individual in question.

The images fell upon the table with a heavy thud, causing the fragile surface to tremble under the weight of their revelation. Despite the force of impact that threatened to shatter the fragile table beneath them, the pictures remained intact, their unspoken truth radiating from their glossy surfaces like a painful revelation begging to be acknowledged.

Michael's face contorted with a ghastly twitch as if he were attempting to conjure laughter, but the sound that escaped his lips was more akin to a hollow echo in the thick, suffocating atmosphere. "Shut up," his mind struggled to piece together the unthinkable truth that lay sprawled before him like a macabre revelation. Denial, a feeble shield against the onslaught of evidence, crumbled before the weight of reality, leaving him quaking.

"I swear before Thrones of Heavenly Majesty I will make her rue the day she even touched him. She corrupted him and brought him over to the side of temptation. God would never-" As Gabriel's solemn vow echoed through the room, the air crackled with the intensity of his conviction, thick with the gravity of impending retribution for the sinner.

His words struck a nerve, exacerbating Michael's fraying composure. The gravity of the situation bore down upon him like a suffocating weight, his anger bubbling to the surface in fervor.

"FUCKING SHUT UP! IT'S NOT REAL! IT'S NOT REAL!" Michael's voice cracked with anguish and insanity, his outburst sending shockwaves through the chamber. In his distress, the chamber was engulfed in an inferno, casting eerie shadows that danced upon the walls. In the distance, the echo of Michael's despair mingled with the desperate prayers and curses of those trapped within the blazing office. The once-orderly chamber had become a scene of utter chaos and destruction.

"O, Almighty Creator," Gabriel's voice trembled with urgency, his words a fervent entreaty to the absent God above. "Grant us clarity in this hour of darkness, illuminate our path with Your divine light."

Meanwhile, Gabriel's attempts at prayer offered little solace as he grappled with the implications of Raphael's revelations.

His murmurs grew more frantic with each passing moment, a desperate attempt to find solace in the face of unsettling truths. "Guide us through this tempest, O Lord, for we are adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Let Your wisdom be our compass, and Your mercy our salvation."

But despite his fervent appeals, only shrieks and flames answer back, echoing throughout Heaven from the burning chamber they're in.

"She said she'd only do that with me..." Raphael’s voice cracked with bitterness, each word laced with venomous resentment. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought to contain the seething anger threatening to consume him whole. "...she lied...she lied..."

The weight of betrayal hung heavy in his heart, suffocating him with its oppressive presence. Raphael's chest heaved with each labored breath, his heart aching with the sting of betrayal. "Fucking cheater..." His words dripped with venom, the bitterness of betrayal poisoning his soul.

With a primal snarl, Raphael's control shattered like glass, shards of rage cutting deep into his consciousness. He lashed out blindly, his teeth sinking into the flesh of a passing stupidly brave angel that came to check on the three Seraphs, the taste of blood a bitter reminder of his own foolishness.

"I hate her..." The words escaped his lips in a guttural growl, each syllable dripping with raw fury. His grip tightened around the angel's trembling form, nails digging into flesh as he sought to vent his pent-up rage on an unwitting victim.

"I'm not sloppy seconds..." Raphael's voice cracked with rage, his crimson eyes ablaze like a firestorm. He tore into the angel's flesh with savage ferocity, his actions a grotesque display of his inner turmoil. "...I'm no side bitch!"

Boom!

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —

"Hm?", in the dim recesses of his grandiose office, Lucifer, who was engrossed in his craftsmanship of carving the statue of the divine, lifted his gaze from his artistic endeavor by the sudden but subtle yet discernible disturbance in the island above the sky of Hell.

His pure white eyes shimmered with an otherworldly glow. Despite the plaster and pigments that adorned his once-pristine garments save for his bloody back that had his broken wings. His form radiated a timeless beauty, marred only by the grim expression on his handsome visage.

The sensation he felt was like a creeping up from above, like a ripple in the placid waters of a celestial lake.

'What are those three getting angry at right now?'

Raon, who was perched upon the plush velvet couch that adorned his office, her tall form immersed in the pages of an ancient tome, looked up swiftly at Lucifer's voice, a rare occurrence after hours of silence.

Once she raised her gaze from the text, her curious eyes meeting Lucifer's form with silent inquiry. Normally, she would wait until Lucifer is willing to tell her what is on his mind, but currently, she is bored and needs a break after reading several magic grimoires Lucifer gave her and practicing with them for almost a whole day.

'Let's just hope he will at least give me a short answer.'

"Um, Lucifer, is there something wrong?" Raon's voice, soft and tentative, carried a note of concern as she awaited his response, her gaze fixed unwaveringly upon him.

Lucifer's answer was measured, his words carrying the weight of foreboding. "I feel there's a disturbance. There would be a storm soon," he left out the part that it was most likely his brothers being angry about something again.

"Is it related to the angels?" Yet the young woman still managed to catch onto the hidden message, her question not directed at ordinary angels but at his brothers as she nervously tightened her grip on her grimoire.

Lucifer nodded solemnly. "Very likely," he confirmed. His gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon but his voice relaxed to ease the lady's tension as he contemplated the unfolding events in the celestial realm.

"Oh, then I will get back to my training-", with a subtle shift of his form, he turned his attention back to Raon, his gaze meeting hers with a serene intensity as he stood up to clean himself with a swipe of his finger. He tidied himself with a cleaning spell and put his tools and statues back into their orderly places without doing so himself physically—a casual display of his magic that Raon wishes to get to one day.

"It's fine," Lucifer assured her, his tone gentle yet authoritative. "Let's take a rest. Care to join me for a walk to the observatory room?" Quietly, he held out his right arm for her to hold on to if she wanted to accompany him.

Raon's heart fluttered at the invitation, her breath catching in her throat as she struggled to contain her excitement. "Really? I-I mean, of course! Please lead the way." Her words spilled forth in a rush of eagerness, her eyes shining with anticipation as she rose from her seat and she excitedly but carefully walked over to Lucifer's spot.

As Raon raised her gaze, a silent query lingering in her eyes, she studied the handsome devil's countenance for the slightest hint of unease. Finding none, she shyly reached out and clasped his arm, a silent agreement passing between them. Together, they embarked on a leisurely stroll, the pace unhurried yet purposeful.

Lucifer, typically swift in his movements, slowed his steps to accommodate Raon, pausing whenever she expressed a desire to linger and marvel at the exquisite white blossoms that adorned Paradise Lost, a sight reserved only for the privileged few. The air was filled with a sense of tranquility and reverence as they meandered through the garden, each step bringing them closer to their destination, yet allowing them to savor the beauty that surrounded them. Unbothered by the chaos that is currently exploding in Heaven.

#what in hell is bad #whb #whb worldbuilding #whb michael #whb gabriel #whb raphael #whb lucifer #whb mc #minors dni #these 3 are so silly/jk #i will act like the christmas event didn't happen and just let mc girlbossing in another way #let homegirl be magical #lucifer is literally God's first fan boi #guess who these three got there habits from #it would be funny if lucifer was the wild one that contain himself to be a role model to his brothers but it failed anyway #they still love him tho and that is all it matter

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orgasming-caterpillar · 5 months ago

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Formula One: The Curse Of The Prancing Horse

There is something so inherently poetic about Ferrari— all the glory behind it's name, the decades of history behind the logo— and it's failures. The sheer splendor of decades worth of building its name to what it is, only to be stuck a step behind from greatness. Too close to rest, to far to push.

And yet, no matter how much they lose, it's still the dream of every young man stepping foot on the grounds of Formula One. It is the Formula One dream. The deep devotion that drives anyone with a Ferrari badge on his chest, the blind faith despite every blow. It's larger than a religion. A cult.

Because even in all its misery, Ferrari is Formula One.

Time after time, we have another spectacular driver who's won it all and won it again, coming to Ferrari in hopes of winning it all with a legacy to support. This deadly hope in the heart of every driver coming to Ferrari that "I'll be the one to change things. I'll be the one to give them back their glory." It happens over and over again because a martyr that does not die lives to create more like him.

It's a cut that always bleeds because not only do you lose your lustre and yourself in the process, you watch another young driver take your place and go through it all over again. Do you think the past drivers look at Charles and pity him? Do you think they warned him? Do they understand the feeling of losing yourself in the process of finding glory for the prancing horse? Do you think charles will feel the same about whatever rookie joins him in the coming years?

Because it's Charles' relationship with Ferrari that's the most poetic of them all. Every race weekend he gives his body and soul to the team, and this team— they don't know what to do with it. It’s all very Renaissance, bold reds and religious zealotry. He’s a walking tragedy. He knows how to suffer and does it well — he was raised Catholic, even if he doesn’t acknowledge God anymore. He acknowledged misery and that's close enough to God.

Charles knows what's wrong with Ferrari. Over the years, he's become well familiar with how they break you, but he no longer cares. Not when occasional glory is poured down his throat like white hot nectar. It burns, but the blisters too are rosso corsa, the colour of prestige.

He says "If this is a cage then I'd like to be kept in a cage my entire life." As if he thinks he has a choice. As if he has it in him to make the choice. He won't change being Il Predestinato in red to being Charles Leclerc in any other color. He was born for rosso corsa.

He says "At times I have not been merciful towards myself" but oh sweet boy was it ever your choice to make? This is what the prancing horse does to those who put a saddle on him.

They call him Il Predestinato, but for what? Predestined for what, glory? Ha, no. Predestined to be the next sacrificial lamb, is what they mean. Predestined to stand on the altar ringed with fire, bearing a prophecy that hovers its fingers over his heart, digging its nails into the warm flesh the longer he is unable to fulfill it.

And it's how we watch it all unfold. How we watch driver after driver sacrifice himself to the team, the team sacrifice him to victory and Victory's satiated sigh at the taste of winning blood before doing what she wishes. It's poetic— all the blood spilled with no respite.

It's the cycle of misery, the curse of the prancing horse.

Ferrari will forever be red on the canvas of history because it is stained by the blood of the heroes that tried to save it.

#forza ferrari #ferrari #scuderia ferrari #the cult of ferrari #the curse of ferrari #formula1 #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #f1 textposts #charles leclerc #il predestinato #cl16

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himasgod · 6 days ago

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King Deshret x Reader IV part II

Where Deshret interrupts your wedding with a sincere apology and at the altar, next to Morax, you must decide what to do.

XXII.

The skies of Liyue were painted in gold and crimson as the sun slid behind the mountains. Nobles, merchants, yakshas and Archons from all nations gathered atop Mount Tianheng to witness the long-awaited union between Princess Phoenix and the Geo Archon. Everything was set for a marriage that promised to be legendary.

Under a canopy of red and gold silk, decorated with elegant floating lanterns, you stood, dressed in a red robe embroidered with symbols of your lineage. The melodies of the musicians filled the air, and yet, in your heart, you felt an emptiness that not even the splendor of the ceremony could fill. Beside you, Morax watched you calmly, his countenance calm as stone, but his golden eyes shining with a curiosity that you could not ignore.

“You are ready,” Morax whispered to you, his voice low and warm, though with a slight hesitation that only you could sense. “But if your heart hesitates, it is not too late to retreat.”

Before you could respond, a restless murmur spread through the crowd. All eyes turned to the entrance of the altar as an unexpected guest appeared:

King Deshret.

XXIII.

The imposing god walked towards you, defying the astonished gazes of those present. His golden robes were dusty, his eyes reflecting a whirlwind of emotions. Despite his worn appearance, his bearing still held the nobility of a king. The Archons watched him in silence; Nabu Malikata, present in the crowd, had an expression full of sadness, knowing that he had come to reclaim what he had lost.

“My dearest, my Queen..." his voice echoed through the altar, a murmur full of regret. He knelt before you, something no one, not even you, would have imagined.

“I cannot… I cannot allow this wedding to take place without begging for your forgiveness.”

The gazes of the guests intensified. Morax, at your side, showed no emotion, but his presence was a constant reminder of the weight of your decision. Time seemed to stand still as Deshret, such a proud god, humbled himself before you.

“I lost my mind by choosing my ambitions and Nabu Malikata over you,” he continued, his voice cracking with despair. “I was a fool to let you go. I didn’t realize what I had until I lost it. I beg you… I beg you to give me one last chance to make amends for my mistakes.”

Tears threatened to fill your eyes, but you held firm.

For months, you had tried to forget the man who once meant everything to you, the one you had loved with a fervor that defied the gods and fate. But here he stood, before you, vulnerable and defeated.

XXIV.

Morax, witness to Deshret’s plea, took a step forward, his golden eyes assessing the situation.

“Deshret, your presence here defies the laws you yourself swore to uphold. This ceremony symbolizes the end of what you once had. Do not come to interrupt what is already decided.”

But before Morax could say more, you raised your hand to stop him. “Morax… please,” you murmured, your voice shaking slightly. He fell silent, respecting your wish.

Deshret looked at you, his eyes filled with hope, a hope that broke your heart.

“I know I have failed,” he said. “But I cannot live knowing that I will never see you again. I will give up everything for you, give up my dreams, my kingdom… if only you will give me the chance to love you one more time.”

The crowd watched in silence, as if the entire world had stopped breathing. You could feel the tension in the air, the silent judgement of the Archons and the nobles. But in that instant, all that mattered was the truth that lay in your heart.

XXV

You took a deep breath, and the words that fell from your lips were like a balm to Deshret’s soul.

“For so long, I hated you, Deshret,” you began, your eyes filled with tears.

“I hated you for abandoning me, for letting our flame be extinguished by your dreams of glory. But in this time, I have learned that holding on to that hatred has only chained me to the past.”

You moved closer to him, your shaking hands caressing his cheek covered in sand and sweat. “I forgive you, Deshret… not because you deserve it, but because I need to free myself from the weight your betrayal left on my heart.”

Deshret gasped, his eyes filled with childlike wonder, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But before he could speak, you looked at him with a firmness you had never shown before.

“However, my forgiveness does not mean that I belong to you again. I have learned to love myself more than any broken promise.”

Morax looked at you, his golden eyes shining with a glint that only you could understand. He had been willing to offer you the stability that Deshret had not give you. But your heart, despite all the pain, remained anchored to the god who now knelt before you.

You took a deep sigh and turned to Morax, who nodded in understanding before speaking.

“If it is your wish to return to him, I will not prevent you,” Morax said, his voice firm but with a tinge of sadness. “I only want you to find the peace you so deserve.”

XXVI.

You extended your hand to Deshret, helping him to his feet. He looked at you as if you were a miracle, a second breath of life that he never thought he would have again. “I am not going to marry Morax,” you said in a whisper that only Deshret and the Geo Archon could hear.

“But I cannot promise you that our relationship will be the same either. If you truly wish to regain what we had, you will have to prove to me that you have changed.”

Deshret nodded fervently, his eyes filled with determination. “I will do whatever it takes, my Queen, to win back your love. I will not fail you again.”

Morax, his dignity unwavering, stepped aside to allow the two of you to leave the altar. The crowd gasped as you and Deshret walked away together. The murmurs turned to a roar of disbelief, but you ignored them. In your heart, you felt like you had made the right decision, though the road to reconciliation would be long and arduous.

In the end, it wasn’t about returning to the past, but about building something new among the ruins of what once was.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfic #genshin #genshin x you #genshin angst #king deshret #king deshret x you #king deshret x reader #king deshret x y/n #morax #rex lapis #genshin rukkhadevata #nabu malikata #deshret #king deshret angst

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sinsmockingbird · 11 months ago

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Because I've seen people asking for it, here's all the information I have (and have made) for the PTN Goddess!AU. Keep in mind it's still in development, meaning I'm happy to hear people's ideas and input and I'll probably change things up from them.

CW: PTN Goddess!AU under the cut.

For this AU I'm using Greek Gods & Goddesses specifically. Mainly because I know about them the most and plus this was inspired by Chameleon, Chelsea, & Cabernet's Greek inspired attires.

Before I go into information on the PTN women, here's stuff to know about the Reader; They are a human who devotes their life to worshipping the Gods. So much so that's caught the attention of a few. They are devout and loyal to their Goddesses, worshipping not just at their shrines, but worshipping them in the bedroom as well.

Next, here's the women I don't have anything set up for yet (have chosen a Greek God they could be). So, would love to hear opinions on these women; Eleven, K.K., Macchiato, McQueen, Pricilla, Shalom, Stargazer, & Uni.

Now, here's a list of the other women and the Gods they represent in this AU;

✧ ADELA: Hades, God of the Underworld, the dead and riches.

✧ ANNE: Asclepius, God of healing and medicine.

✧ BAI YI: Hermes, God of travel, speed, thieves, trade and invention.

✧ CABERNET: Dionysus, God of grape-harvest, wine, orchards, madness and parties.

✧ CASSIA: Aglaia, Goddess of beauty, splendor, glory and adornment.

✧ CHAMELEON: Hypnos, God of sleep.

✧ CHELSEA: Aphrodite, Goddess of beauty, love, desire, passion and pleasure.

✧ CINNABAR: Soteria, Goddess of safety, salvation, deliverance and preservation from harm.

✧ COQUELIC: Demeter, Goddess of harvest, grain and fertility.

✧ CORSO: Lyssa, Goddess of mad rage, frenzy and rabies.

✧ DEREN: Pheme, Goddess of fame and renown.

✧ DREYA: Nyx, Goddess of the night.

✧ EIRENE: Plutus, God of abundance and wealth.

✧ ENFER: Hephaestus, God of technology, craftsman, sculptures and blacksmiths.

✧ GAROFANO: Hera, Goddess of women, marriage, childbirth and familial love.

✧ HAMEL: Terpsichore, Goddess of lyric poetry and dancing.

✧ IGNIS: Hestia, Goddess of hearth, home and family.

✧ IRON: Paean, God of healing and physicians.

✧ KELVIN: Khoine, Goddess of snow.

✧ LAMIA: Poseidon, God of the sea, storms, earthquakes and floods.

✧ LANGLEY: Athena, Goddess of wisdom, strategy, crafts and the arts.

✧ LISA: Apollo, God of the sun, light, plague, music, art, poetry, knowledge and truth.

✧ MANTIS: Pan, God of the wild.

✧ NOX: Psyche, Goddess of the human soul.

✧ NINETY-NINE: Kratos, God of strength.

✧ OAK CASKET: Thanatos, God of peaceful death.

✧ RAHU: Nemesis, Goddess of balance, retribution and vengeance.

✧ RAVEN: Calliope, Goddess of epic poetry.

✧ SERPENT: Morpheus, God of dreams.

✧ SUMIRE: Persephone, Goddess of the springtime and vegetation.

✧ TETRA: Peitho, God of persuasion.

✧ ZOYA: Ares, God of war and courage.

#*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟsins rambles #goddess!au

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smallgodseries · 7 months ago

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Her portfolio serves no purpose beyond making people smile, and she’s perfectly content with that. Let other gods control fate, or time, or love, or war, even down to its smallest attributes; she will conjure the laughter of children and the delight of lovers, the joy of gardeners and yes, even the fear of those whose automatonophobia has been stirred to terrible heights by unkind horror movies. She delights in them all, for she is a joyful god, and she sees no reason to be anything other than who she is.

Sculpt a rabbit or a robot, and she’ll be standing gladly by your side, clapping her hands and exalting in your skill. She has inspired her own Pygmalions, although she lacks the gifts of Aphrodite, to bring their glorious creations further into life than the green growth of their limbs, the healthy splendor of their branches. She can inspire life. She can shape life. She can encourage life. She cannot give it, much as she might wish she could.

But she can, upon occasion, move it from one place unto another. The starving child whose family has been lost to the wilds may find themselves reborn in growth and glory; the beloved dog whose people bring them beneath the branches to soothe their passing may find that they have not gone, simply relocated. And Laurel finds her own joy in tears, on those occasions, in the pain she cannot prevent but can at least reduce a bit as the future moves forward, and carries, as always, a bright new spring.

For that is the one truth she carries above all others: that always, no matter what else happens, there will be another spring, and as long as the green endures, she will be there with it, glorying in the growth of that which lives for joy.

#small gods #lee moyer #seanan mcguire #smallgodseries #icons and stories

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perseabeth · 6 months ago

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The Promise of the Wild Sea

< this is not an official fic yet, i had this AU in my mind for a while, and now i got the time to write few parts of it. if the story was to your liking, i might get encouraged to make it an official fic. i’d like to remind you that i do not own any of the characters, as they all belong to the original myths and Rick Riordan. except for the oc Callista. however, i made some alternation in the myths that could benefit my story. i hope you like these changes. also this is a fem!percy version. enjoy reading >

- 1184 BCE, The fallen city of Troy -

Apollo stood in front of Callista’s pyre, the flames not yet lit, his gaze fixed on her lifeless face. Her once radiant beauty now drained, her cheeks no longer flushed with the color of life. Her hair, dark as the starless night, framed a visage that seemed at peace, a peace she had found only in death. Yet, she had stolen his peace with her departure, leaving him hollow and bereft.

With painstaking care, he had smoothed away every bruise, every mark of the cruelty she had endured, wishing to present her to the underworld in the full splendor of her glory. His Callista, his heart. He clutched the two drachmas in his hand, the coins a symbol of her final journey, but to him, they were a cruel reminder of his eternal separation from her. How could he consign her to the underworld, knowing he would be condemned to an eternity without her by his side?

His soul ached with a grief that seemed too vast to contain. With a trembling breath, he placed the drachmas on her closed eyes, sealing her fate, preparing her for her voyage to the underworld. She deserved a realm free from the sorrows of war and the sting of death, a place of peace and light. He swore on his immortal soul that she would find solace in Elysium.

Apollo leaned down, his tears falling like rain upon her serene face, pressing a final kiss to her cold, unresponsive forehead.

“Farewell, my Callista... until we meet again, my angel.”

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

The sun god cradled her cheeks in his trembling hands, his soy blue eyes filled with the agony of days spent pleading with his uncle, the merciless lord of death, for this moment. She was there in his embrace, radiant as the true princess she was, her beauty untouched by the shadows of the underworld. Her black hair cascaded down her back like the soft night sky, a dark tapestry embroidered with stars in silken threads. Her eyes, those mesmerizing sea-green eyes, gazed up at him—the very eyes he had yearned to kiss open one last time before cruel fate tore her away.

But nothing unfolded as he had hoped.

"My lord," Callista whispered, her eyes shining with boundless love for the man before her. She wore a white, elegant chiton that clung to her form with an ethereal grace, adorned with a delicate laurel crown—a vision of Trojan royalty. Apollo shook his head, refusing to accept the words forming on her lips. "No, you are coming with me," he implored, tears welling up in his sky-blue eyes, each drop a testament to his anguish. He was begging, pleading for her to return with him to the world of the living.

The princess before him shook her head gently, her gaze unwavering. "No, my lord, I am dead. I am happy here," she said softly. She took his palm, still cradling her cheek, and pressed a tender kiss upon it, as if sealing their fates with that simple, heartbreaking act. "You must respect the rules of death, my love. You must go on and find happiness in the lands of the living."

Her words stabbed his heart, despite the delicateness of her voice, despite the sweetness of her words, and despite the loveliness of her eyes. She was pushing him away, each word like a dagger twisting deeper.

Callista looked at him again, her gaze filled with a sorrowful resolve. "I'm with my family, and you should be with yours. Lord Zeus will not be tolerable when he hears that you brought me back from death."

Apollo tried to reason with her, desperation lacing his voice. "But Uncle Hades has already accepted," he argued, only to be met with another tender kiss on his palm from Callista.

"I'm not letting you get into an argument with your father," she replied softly. She lifted her hand and gently caressed the strand of his hair falling on his forehead. Her melodic voice continued, soothing yet heartbreaking. "You will live on. You will find happiness again, I'm sure."

"My happiness is with you only," he insisted, his voice breaking.

But Callista only shook her head with a sad smile. "That's what you're saying now, because the pain is so new. But trust me, my love... time will go on, life will go on." She looked into his eyes, her determination unyielding. He knew there was no way to change her heart. She gave him a beautiful smile that could have brightened his days if not for their situation. "You did all you could. You made sure I found my final rest in a beautiful place. Now it's your turn to let go... to move on."

Apollo's tears threatened to fall, threatening to drown his eyes. He did the only thing he could do in that moment; he planted a soft, small kiss on her lips, a goodbye kiss filled with all the sorrow of a love that could never be. It was a kiss that spoke of unending longing and the crushing weight of farewell.

He would never force her to do anything. If she was happy, he would be happy, even if it meant an immortal lifetime of his heart shattering every day he remembered that she wasn't waking up next to him.

His time in the underworld was ticking away, leaving him with precious few moments to spare in the arms of his beloved. How cruel fate is, he thought, that even time refuses to grant him a longer respite to find peace in her embrace one last time.

He kissed her forehead once more, a goodbye kiss—the same kiss he had planted on her brow the day of her pyre, the day they consigned her body to the flames in a solemn ritual of farewell. He looked into those beautiful eyes one last time. "I swear to you, I’ll always find you in the stars, in the calm oceans, in the beautiful sunlight, in the warm flames, and in the serene mountains. You will always haunt me, forever haunt my life, Callista."

This earned him a sad smile from her beloved face, and he realized he loved all her smiles except this one. "Who knows, maybe someday you will find me again, amidst the moors or maybe in the wild sea."

He nodded, a silent nod, as a single tear traced a path down his cheek. He kissed her hands one last time and turned his back, leaving his beloved, leaving his heart, leaving the bane of his soul in Elysium, where she belonged. Before he stepped away, he turned to her one last time. "Someday, I’ll find you in the wild sea."

With that, Apollo left the underworld, each step a testament to the immortal lifetime of sorrow that awaited him, a sorrow he would bear for the love he could never truly hold again.

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

- December, 2007. New York City-

"And now, sis. Transportation for the Hunters, you say? Good timing. I was just about ready to roll.

"These demigods will also need a ride," Artemis said, pointing to us. "Some of Chiron's campers."

"No problem!" Apollo checked us out. "Let's see... Thalia, right? I've heard all about you."

Thalia blushed. "Hi, Lord Apollo."

"Zeus's girl, yes? Makes you my half sister. Used to be a tree, didn't you? Glad you're back. I hate it when pretty girls turn into trees. Man, I remember one time—"

"Brother," Artemis said. "You should get going."

"Oh, right." Then his gaze landed on me, and his eyes widened with a mixture of shock and recognition, as if he had glimpsed a long-lost memory. The once vibrant blue of his eyes now bore golden freckles, a haunting reminder of his divine nature. "Callista?"

I met his gaze, my heart pounding with confusion and uncertainty. Was he mistaking me for someone else, someone from his past? “No. I mean... no, sir."

Calling a teenager "sir" felt awkward, but I knew better than to offend an immortal. They were known to have volatile tempers, and tended to get offended easily. Then they blew stuff up. and now Apollo seems to be on verge of blowing things up, or me perhaps.

His silence stretched on, his eyes still fixed on me, probing and searching. It was as if he was peering into my soul, unraveling the layers of my being with each passing moment.

Eventually, his gaze shifted to his sister, Artemis, who offered him a subtle shake of her head. Their silent exchange felt like a wordless, deep conversation, conveying a depth of understanding that transcended spoken words. Apollo cleared his throat, breaking the tension that hung in the air, before turning his attention back to me.

His gaze shifted abruptly from sheer confusion to a myriad of emotions I couldn't quite pinpoint. It reminded me of the way my mom once described my reaction to blue cookies or a serene beach—a mix of wonder and longing. Yet, as he looked at me, I saw something more. His eyes, now a crystal-clear sky blue, brimmed with an affection that seemed to encompass the entire world. It was a strange sensation, one that left me feeling oddly nervous, knowing that he was a god who could unleash his power at any moment. If it were anyone else, I might have blushed under their gaze. But facing a god for the first time, unsure if he was friend or foe, left me feeling unsettled rather than flustered.

"Percy Jackson," Apollo's voice cut through the tense silence like a blade. For a moment, it felt as though time itself had frozen, as if I were caught in a web of his penetrating gaze. I nodded silently. Then, without a word, he turned away, his attention shifting back to the group. The weight of his gaze that seemed to convey the burden of centuries, left me unsettled.

"Well!" he exclaimed in a cheerful voice again, as if the past few moments were nothing, breaking the silence. "We'd better load up, huh? The ride only goes one way—west. And if you miss it, you miss it."

—

i’d love to hear your opinion about this.

#today is my turn to make you sad #i noticed smth wrong i’ve done here #he calls her ‘’my muse’ not ‘my angel’ idk why i wtote it like that lol #ill edit all in the official fic #but it was a quick one shot #percy jackson #pjo #female percy jackson #apollo #retelling of myths #perpollo #fem percy jackson #phoebus apollo #fanfic #pjo fanfic #percy x apollo #trojan war retelling #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus

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