#Slave of the Lord of the Underworld.

[ilovegrimm]

Hellooo!

I finally finished the other two yuus of damnation Au, the diasomnia one is missing but it hasn't been written yet.

I didn't know what to name the slave of Hades, why she named him lord of the underworld and I didn't think it would be a good idea to name the slave of Hades that way, so I just named him slave and that's it.

I want to do scenes from the fanfic, but first I will do something related to another Tumblr fanfic that has not yet been uploaded, where the boys are concubines and we are the emperor, I am very interested in this AU, I have faith in the Au.

@shiny-jr

Inspired by Hades Panic, and some half-purple magenta or pink tobo on the other, it's thinner and weaker, I hope it could be brought out, and with details as if it had robo or android parts, for Idia.

The hull is very similar to glass and that bothers me, but I don't know how to make metal.

You can't see the pants well but if they increase the brightness I think so, I hope you can see the reflections in the hair, and the second face is before taking in the sunlight

[snapmite1998]

The Information Network: Crimson Dawn’s Web of Espionage and Collaboration with the Galactic Underworld

Overview

Crimson Dawn, under the leadership of Darth Maul, expertly utilizes a vast and chillingly effective spy network to gather intelligence. Beyond their own operatives, they employ members of allied organizations such as the Pyke Syndicate, Black Sun, and other crime families, gangs, and criminal organizations under Maul's unified Galactic Underworld. This collaborative approach ensures that vital information reaches Maul even when Crimson Dawn agents are unable to penetrate other syndicates’ territories.

The Core Intelligence Network

1. Crimson Dawn Operatives

- Elite Spies: Trained in stealth, subterfuge, and information gathering, Crimson Dawn operatives form the backbone of the espionage network. These agents are adept at infiltrating various factions, posing as traders, mercenaries, or civilians to gather crucial intelligence.

- Advanced Technology: Equipped with state-of-the-art surveillance devices and communication tools, Crimson Dawn operatives can relay real-time information back to their handlers. This technology ensures accurate and timely updates even from the most dangerous locations.

Allies in Espionage

1. Pyke Syndicate

- Strategic Alliance: The Pykes’ extensive involvement in the spice trade and their vast network of contacts make them invaluable allies in the realm of intelligence. Their operatives have access to crucial trade routes and can gather information on rival factions and upcoming smuggling operations.

- Dual Roles: Members of the Pyke Syndicate often serve dual roles, conducting their usual smuggling activities while discreetly relaying intelligence back to Maul's network. Their presence in key trade hubs allows them to monitor communications and activities of various galactic elements.

2. Black Sun

- Information Brokers: Black Sun's reach into the galaxy’s criminal underbelly makes them essential partners in the information network. Known for their connections and ability to gather intel, Black Sun agents provide detailed reports on galactic movements, political shifts, and potential threats.

- Covert Operations: The Black Sun operatives utilize covert operations and bribery to obtain sensitive information from within rival syndicates and legal institutions. Their ability to operate under the radar ensures that they can gather intel without drawing unwanted attention.

3. Zygerrian Slave Empire

- Infiltrators and Contacts: The Zygerrians’ slave trade operations give them access to diverse populations and valuable contacts. Their slavers operate in various regions, infiltrating societies and extracting information from slaves, traders, and corrupt officials.

- Intelligence from Captives: By interrogating and using their captives, Zygerrian operatives glean vital information about enemies, including strategic plans, supply routes, and secret bases. This intelligence is then funneled back to Crimson Dawn.

Integration into the United Galactic Underworld

1. Unified Command

- Centralized Intelligence: Maul’s vision of a united Galactic Underworld ensures that all gathered intelligence is centralized and analyzed by a dedicated command structure. This approach allows for a comprehensive understanding of galactic events and quick decision-making.

- Relay System: Information is relayed through a secure network that connects all allied organizations. Key points of contact within each faction ensure smooth transmission of data, minimizing the risk of interception or misinformation.

2. Coordination and Collaboration

- Mutual Benefits: The collaborative intelligence network benefits all participants. Syndicates like the Pyke Syndicate and Black Sun gain access to valuable information that aids their own operations while contributing to the collective strength of the underworld.

- Strengthened Alliances: By sharing intelligence, these organizations strengthen their alliances and build trust. The cooperative network ensures that all factions remain informed, coordinated, and ready to act on new opportunities or threats.

Tactical Advantages

1. Penetrating Rival Syndicates

- Access and Infiltration: The collaborative approach allows Crimson Dawn to penetrate territories and organizations where their own operatives might struggle to gain entry. Allies with established presences in rival syndicates gather and relay vital information without raising suspicion.

- Dual Allegiance: Operatives from alliances like the Pyke Syndicate and Black Sun, while primarily loyal to their organizations, understand the mutual benefits of supporting Crimson Dawn’s intelligence network. Their dual allegiance ensures a broad and deep infiltration capability.

2. Monitoring and Counterintelligence

- Constant Surveillance: The broad network enables constant surveillance of rival factions, political players, and potential threats. This real-time intelligence gathering allows Crimson Dawn to stay several steps ahead of its adversaries.

- Counterintelligence: With insights into enemy operations, Maul’s network can undertake counterintelligence measures to mislead, sabotage, and disrupt rival plans. This proactive approach weakens enemy efforts while reinforcing Crimson Dawn's dominance.

The Role of Maul and Strategic Implementation

1. Maul’s Command

- Strategic Oversight: Maul’s strategic brilliance ensures that the gathered intelligence is put to optimal use. He analyzes the data with a keen understanding of the dark side and galactic politics, directing operations that capitalize on the acquired information.

- Tactical Decisions: Utilizing the gathered intelligence, Maul makes informed tactical decisions, from orchestrating raids and ambushes to executing precise assassinations and orchestrating political manipulations.

2. Adaptive and Responsive Operations

- Flexibility: The integrated network allows Crimson Dawn to adapt swiftly to changing circumstances. Whether it’s a sudden shift in power dynamics or an unexpected threat, the network's responsiveness ensures that Crimson Dawn can pivot and respond effectively.

- Exploitation of Opportunities: The real-time nature of the intelligence network enables Maul and his commanders to exploit opportunities as they arise, securing assets, eliminating competition, and expanding their influence with precision.

Conclusion

Crimson Dawn’s integration of a vast spy network, bolstered by the intelligence-gathering capabilities of its allies within the Pyke Syndicate, Black Sun, Zygerrian Slave Empire, and other criminal organizations, creates a formidable web of espionage. This collaborative approach ensures that vital information continuously flows to Darth Maul, enabling him to stay ahead of rivals and craft strategies with unparalleled precision.

The united Galactic Underworld, functioning as an interconnected organism, exemplifies Maul's vision of cohesive power through shared intelligence and mutual benefit. With the Blood Star as a symbol of their might and an unparalleled intelligence network at their disposal, Crimson Dawn continues to assert its dominance, shaping the fate of the galaxy from the shadows.

[book--brackets]

The Mistborn Saga by Brandon Sanderson (2006-2022)

For a thousand years the ash fell and no flowers bloomed. For a thousand years the Skaa slaved in misery and lived in fear. For a thousand years the Lord Ruler, the "Sliver of Infinity," reigned with absolute power and ultimate terror, divinely invincible. Then, when hope was so long lost that not even its memory remained, a terribly scarred, heart-broken half-Skaa rediscovered it in the depths of the Lord Ruler's most hellish prison. Kelsier "snapped" and found in himself the powers of a Mistborn. A brilliant thief and natural leader, he turned his talents to the ultimate caper, with the Lord Ruler himself as the mark. Kelsier recruited the underworld's elite, the smartest and most trustworthy allomancers, each of whom shares one of his many powers, and all of whom relish a high-stakes challenge. Only then does he reveal his ultimate dream, not just the greatest heist in history, but the downfall of the divine despot. But even with the best criminal crew ever assembled, Kel's plan looks more like the ultimate long shot, until luck brings a ragged girl named Vin into his life. Like him, she's a half-Skaa orphan, but she's lived a much harsher life. Vin has learned to expect betrayal from everyone she meets, and gotten it. She will have to learn to trust, if Kel is to help her master powers of which she never dreamed.

This saga dares to ask a simple question: What if the hero of prophecy fails?

The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman (2013)

A middle-aged man returns to his childhood home to attend a funeral. Although the house he lived in is long gone, he is drawn to the farm at the end of the road, where, when he was seven, he encountered a most remarkable girl, Lettie Hempstock, and her mother and grandmother. He hasn't thought of Lettie in decades, and yet as he sits by the pond (a pond that she'd claimed was an ocean) behind the ramshackle old farmhouse where she once lived, the unremembered past comes flooding back. And it is a past too strange, too frightening, too dangerous to have happened to anyone, let alone a small boy.

Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire (1995-2011)

When Dorothy triumphed over the Wicked Witch of the West in L. Frank Baum’s classic tale, we heard only her side of the story. But what about her arch-nemesis, the mysterious Witch? Where did she come from? How did she become so wicked?

Gregory Maguire has created a fantasy world so rich and vivid that we will never look at Oz the same way again.

Wicked is about a land where animals talk and strive to be treated like first-class citizens, Munchkinlanders seek the comfort of middle-class stability, and the Tin Man becomes a victim of domestic violence. And then there is the little green-skinned girl named Elphaba, who will grow up to become the infamous Wicked Witch of the West—a smart, prickly, and misunderstood creature who challenges all our preconceived notions about the nature of good and evil.

The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice (1976-2018)

This is the story of Louis, as told in his own words, of his journey through mortal and immortal life. Louis recounts how he became a vampire at the hands of the radiant and sinister Lestat and how he became indoctrinated, unwillingly, into the vampire way of life. His story ebbs and flows through the streets of New Orleans, defining crucial moments such as his discovery of the exquisite lost young child Claudia, wanting not to hurt but to comfort her with the last breaths of humanity he has inside. Yet, he makes Claudia a vampire, trapping her womanly passion, will, and intelligence inside the body of a small child. Louis and Claudia form a seemingly unbreakable alliance and even "settle down" for a while in the opulent French Quarter. Louis remembers Claudia's struggle to understand herself and the hatred they both have for Lestat that sends them halfway across the world to seek others of their kind. Louis and Claudia are desperate to find somewhere they belong, to find others who understand, and someone who knows what and why they are.

Louis and Claudia travel Europe, eventually coming to Paris and the ragingly successful Theatre des Vampires--a theatre of vampires pretending to be mortals pretending to be vampires. Here they meet the magnetic and ethereal Armand, who brings them into a whole society of vampires. But Louis and Claudia find that finding others like themselves provides no easy answers and in fact presents dangers they scarcely imagined.

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll (1865-1876)

After a tumble down the rabbit hole, Alice finds herself far away from home in the absurd world of Wonderland. As mind-bending as it is delightful, Lewis Carroll’s 1865 novel is pure magic for young and old alike.

Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer (2001-2012)

Twelve-year-old Artemis Fowl is a millionaire, a genius—and, above all, a criminal mastermind. But even Artemis doesn't know what he's taken on when he kidnaps a fairy, Captain Holly Short of the LEPrecon Unit. These aren't the fairies of bedtime stories—they're dangerous! Full of unexpected twists and turns, Artemis Fowl is a riveting, magical adventure.

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman (2008)

Bod is an unusual boy who inhabits an unusual place--he's the only living resident of a graveyard. Raised from infancy by the ghosts, werewolves, and other cemetery denizens, Bod has learned the antiquated customs of his guardians' time as well as their ghostly teachings--such as the ability to Fade so mere mortals cannot see him.

Can a boy raised by ghosts face the wonders and terrors of the worlds of both the living and the dead?

The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan (1990-2013)

The Wheel of Time turns and Ages come and go, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth returns again. In the Third Age, an Age of Prophecy, the World and Time themselves hang in the balance. What was, what will be, and what is, may yet fall under the Shadow.

When The Two Rivers is attacked by Trollocs—a savage tribe of half-men, half-beasts— five villagers flee that night into a world they barely imagined, with new dangers waiting in the shadows and in the light.

Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman (1996)

Under the streets of London there's a place most people could never even dream of. A city of monsters and saints, murderers and angels, knights in armour and pale girls in black velvet. This is the city of the people who have fallen between the cracks.

Richard Mayhew, a young businessman, is going to find out more than enough about this other London. A single act of kindness catapults him out of his workday existence and into a world that is at once eerily familiar and utterly bizarre. And a strange destiny awaits him down here, beneath his native city: Neverwhere.

The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson (2010-present)

Roshar is a world of stone and storms. Uncanny tempests of incredible power sweep across the rocky terrain so frequently that they have shaped ecology and civilization alike. Animals hide in shells, trees pull in branches, and grass retracts into the soilless ground. Cities are built only where the topography offers shelter. 

It has been centuries since the fall of the ten consecrated orders known as the Knights Radiant, but their Shardblades and Shardplate remain: mystical swords and suits of armor that transform ordinary men into near-invincible warriors. Men trade kingdoms for Shardblades. Wars were fought for them, and won by them. 

One such war rages on a ruined landscape called the Shattered Plains. There, Kaladin, who traded his medical apprenticeship for a spear to protect his little brother, has been reduced to slavery. In a war that makes no sense, where ten armies fight separately against a single foe, he struggles to save his men and to fathom the leaders who consider them expendable. 

Brightlord Dalinar Kholin commands one of those other armies. Like his brother, the late king, he is fascinated by an ancient text called The Way of Kings. Troubled by over-powering visions of ancient times and the Knights Radiant, he has begun to doubt his own sanity. 

Across the ocean, an untried young woman named Shallan seeks to train under an eminent scholar and notorious heretic, Dalinar's niece, Jasnah. Though she genuinely loves learning, Shallan's motives are less than pure. As she plans a daring theft, her research for Jasnah hints at secrets of the Knights Radiant and the true cause of the war.

[rewrittenwrongs]

It’s the first of October in my timezone, which means it’s time to post my first Whumptober fill! I chose the prompt Panic Attack.

Heavily inspired by the lovely @brucewaynehater101’s Wingless Wing AU

Read on Ao3 (registered users only) | Whumptober masterpost | part 1 | part 2 coming soon

TW: past wing removal, mentions of anti-hybrid sentiments, mentions of trafficking/selling body parts, panic attack, accidental self harm (biting lip until it bleeds to ground himself), and a very very non detailed instance of vomiting

Dragons were the rarest hybrids out there.

They were some of the most well known, too. Everyone’s heard of dragon hybrids. They’re like the role models of the hybrid world, the knights and princesses children look up to, or the monsters under your bed if you’re not a hybrid. Usually, they’re treated much the same as true dragons: fictional. Mythical. Imaginary.

Now, if you were especially interested in them, or studied genetics or hybrid physiology, you’d know they were real. You’d know they often had huge wingspans comparable to the largest of seabird hybrids, and airborne agility almost on par with hummingbirds. You’d know they were rumoured to command the wind itself when they flew. You’d know their scales were tough and beautiful and practically immune to fire. You’d know lead was one of the only things capable of burning them while they lived. You’d know full blooded dragon hybrids could have long, magnificent tails and dramatic horns, claws instead of fingers or toes, slitted pupils that could see in the dark and scales tougher than wood.

You’d also know that, while they did exist once, they were hunted for their wings and scales and horns. They haven’t been officially pronounced extinct but neither has any other long-gone hybrid species. Anyone with passing knowledge of them knew they weren’t around anymore, outside the odd museum exhibit or old photo. Any rumour of still living dragon hybrids today was just that: a rumour. Though, the general populace—just the hybrids, really—loved to spread stories of them going into hiding. Using magic to cloak themselves until the day they could walk safely among humans.

Jason knows a lot about dragon hybrids. Much more than your average hybrid, and probably more than even a hybrid physiologist. He had a hyperfixation on them for a time, even before that pair of dragon wings started being passed around Gotham’s underworld.

He knows all the myths and folklore about dragon hybrids being born with an affinity for magic, about them using their skills to hide themselves from poachers and traffickers, building enchanted necklaces or broaches that disguised them as regular humans. He’s heard the legends of them being born of fire itself, being immune to temperatures that would render metal liquid, even being able to summon or control it. About burning their dead ones to return them to the ashes and embers they were once created from, as heat only blackened their scales after death. He’s heard the tales of dragons being kidnapped as children for their wings, because of a very special property of theirs: even after their wings were cut off they stayed magically connected to the hybrid, and grew along with them. It was much easier to kidnap and mutilate children than it was adults, and then they could use the hybrids as slaves, since they had to stay alive anyway for the wings to grow.

A lot of the myths—folklore, children’s tales, nursery rhymes—were about a dragon losing their wings and getting them back. A common theme among legends was the tie between wings and hybrid: a tie that, if the wings weren’t skinned or carved away for trophies, allowed the hybrid to reconnect them.

Jason tried not to get his hopes up, but he had to admit, once he finally tracked down those wings the other crime lords kept playing hot potato with… it would be nice if he could track down their owner and return them. Even if all there was to be done was bury or burn the things and give the hybrid a proper funeral.

Now, with the childhood hyperfixation and the elusive pair of trafficked wings that have been evading him for as long as he’s been Red Hood, he has a lot of respect for dragon hybrids. Combine that with all the hybrid trafficking rings he’s taken down, both as Red Hood and as Robin, you can see why he’s pissed about Tim’s new gliders.

Ever since Damian became Robin, since Tim swapped suits and changed title, he’d altered his glider to look like dragon wings. Dragon. Wings.

Now, it’s been almost five months since Tim came back and handed over all the info about Bruce’s whereabouts and proved he was alive, about four since they actually got Bruce back. There’s still some tension between everyone, but things have settled down a lot. But. Quite a bit of the tension could be blamed on those damn. Gliders.

Jason was actually glad when he saw them get set on fire a few nights ago; huge holes burning into the material and making Tim abandon it before the engine caught fire too. He tried a little to convince Tim to swap back to a design more feather-like but he was adamant. Jason could understand wanting to imitate the others, it must be tough being one of the only non-hybrids in the family, but WHY did he have to imitate dragon hybrids of all things? Because they’re cool? It’s insensitive and in bad taste!

That said, Jason had been biting his tongue about the issue. But tonight, when he swung by the cave, he came across Tim in the workshop, tinkering around and probably trying to improve his newest glider model. It’s the first time Jason’s seen the prototype. He can’t keep quiet anymore.

“You’re seriously sticking with dragon wings?”

Tim didn’t look up, didn’t turn to face him. “Yes. I’ve told you, I’m not changing my mind.”

Right. Jason’s definition of ‘biting his tongue’ was a little different than most’s. “You do know they’re real hybrids, right?”

“Yes, you’ve infodumped to me about them before.” He kept serenely fitting the scale-patterned material in place, connecting panels and hiding wire mesh and metal supports. “It’s no more cultural appropriation than my previous gliders were.”

Jason bristled. Tim has had some form of glider since he first debuted as Robin, and they were all styled after bird wings, designed to look like feathers. Like the Robins before him. Not the most feared, segregated, hunted, and literally extinct hybrid species in existence!

Jason had to take several deep breaths to stop himself from shooting the things then and there. Tim had already put together most of the emergency engine, the jetpack or ‘batpack’ as it was jokingly called: shooting it would just cause a huge explosion and an even huger mess. Not to mention Tim was in the way, he didn’t want to resort to physical injury just yet. “Clearly you weren’t listening when I told you about how often they were trafficked and poached for their wings.”

Tim huffed, still refusing to even turn his head. “I heard you. I just don’t see a problem with this.”

“So you don’t have a problem with the severed pair of dragon wing currently being traded through Gotham’s underworld?”

Tim froze.

There’s the reaction he’s been looking for. A bit of Jason’s vindictive glee seeped into his voice. “You didn’t know? There have been rumours about them since I was putting heads in duffel bags. Even the Joker knows about them. The hybrid is almost certainly dead by now. And still, their wings are being toted from warehouse to warehouse, crate to crate, one hand to someone else’s. It’s only a matter of time before someone keeps them for good and turns them into a pair of cloaks and an interesting taxidermy.”

“What do they look like?”

Jason blinked. Then his rage swelled so fiercely he could barely see or breathe. He wanted to know what they looked like!? WHY!? So he could take notes? Make his glider more realistic? WHAT THE FUCK.

Jason very nearly exploded about it, but then he caught sight of something that made him pause for a split second: Tim’s hands, curled into fists against his work, shaking slightly. Then as he paused he caught sight of something else: the slope of his shoulders, hunched, defensive, quivering. He was leaning forward like his knees would collapse any second.

Jason hesitated. Well, maybe... maybe if he answered he would learn why Tim reacted like that, or at least learn enough to infer. If it was so he could make his glider more realistic he could just shoot him.

He’s only seen them once, for a few seconds, but they were beautiful—and heartbreaking—enough he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget them. “They’re red. Crimson. Big, but built like they’re kind of small. Curved, streamline, built for speed and agility. They’re almost iridescent, the right lighting makes them shine gold.”

Tim shuddered, violently, then collapsed, vomiting onto the stone floor.

“Woah—Tim—“ Jason darted forward, dropping into a kneel beside Tim with a flair of his wings. He reached for his shoulders automatically but Tim jerked away like he’d stabbed him, letting out a choked exclamation. Jason pulled back and let his wings settle over him instead, shielding but not touching. “Tim?”

He hesitated as Tim scrambled to his feet, shoulders hunched and arms jerky like his back was on fire. His breathing was loud and uneven and there was a tear on his cheek. His eyes were red and wild, darting around like he was searching desperately for an escape, like he didn’t know where he was. Jason got back up on his knees in preparation for following. He kept a wing hovering over Tim’s back. “Tim? What—“

Tim stumbled into an uneven run, arms more jerking than swinging, footfalls uneven like he was accounting for weight that wasn’t there. Jason hoped he was putting things together wrong.

Jason followed a few steps behind as Tim ran for the exit, and caught him when he stumbled and collapsed in the doorway. He was muttering over and over, “Please don’t please stop please stop stop stop,” between horrible, gut deep sobs. He fought against Jason for a moment but stopped quickly, leaning as far away as he could get, but not putting up a physical fight. He was hyperventilating.

Jason kept his hold secure, thinking back to the last—and until now, only—time he’d seen Tim having a panic attack: the sight of his hands in his hair and on his shoulders and blood running through his fingers and down his chin. Right now his arms were mostly pinned at his sides, hands struggling to curl around Jason’s arms, still protected by his jacket and armour. Jason kept his grip away from his shoulders and upper back in case his hunch was right. He curled one wing around Tim’s front, gently, just enough to brush against his face and legs. “Hey, hey hey, it’s okay, no one’s hurting you.”

Tim whined and tossed his head, fingers scrabbling against Jason’s forearms. Tears dripped from his chin. Blood was beading on his lip.

Jason bit off a swear. He’d forgotten he was still wearing his mask, the voice modulator always bothered Tim when he was already on edge. He adjusted his grip so he had one arm around Tim’s waist, still pinning an arm, and one wing caving him in, and used his spare hand to remove his metal mask.

Tim’s struggle renewed when he sensed apparent weakness, shoving and kicking, but he was off balance and uncoordinated and all he achieved was making Jason’s wing curl tighter around him. The sensation seemed to throw him off. Confusion bled into the features that weren’t twisted with pain and fear.

“Tim, can you try to breathe for me?” Jason said. He placed his mask on the ground and used his other wing to slide it away quietly.

Tim sobbed, chest heaving, shoulders quivering. “Stop. It hurts.”

Jason’s heart ached. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Tim’s entire frame jerked with the force of his next sob. Tears splashed to the ground like little shards of shattering glass. They were joined by a droplet of blood.

Jason made a cooing noise low in his throat, humming in a way that never came quite as naturally as it did before his death. He tried to imitate Dick’s comforting calls. Tim pressed his face into the feathers of Jason’s wing, hands like iron bands around his arm.

Jason repeated the noise, tentatively reaching out and stroking a hand through his hair. It got longer while he was searching for Bruce, and he hasn’t cut it yet.

Tim stayed tense as a taut wire, but didn’t curl into or away from the feeling. Jason couldn’t tell if his breathing was getting faster or slower. “It hurts,” he sobbed, “it hurts it hurts it hurts make it stop, please make it stop.”

Jason scrambled for what to do. He kept stroking through Tim’s hair. Maybe—his mother used to…

Jason cleared his throat and quietly began to sing.

His voice has never been quite as smooth and full as it was before his death. It’s not rough or unpleasant, necessarily, but he became unnervingly aware of the difference as he began singing the same song Catherine sang when he was too scared to sleep. There was a faint shakiness, a fragility that caused pain if he tried to yell, not to mention he couldn’t hit half the notes. He kept it quiet, low, a poor rendition of a dead woman’s lullaby.

Tim kept muttering, kept begging and sobbing, but the faintest hints of awareness were gradually starting to fill his eyes.

His arms squeezed Jason’s forearm around his middle.

His feet shifted against the ground like he was searching for purchase.

He pressed his head, lightly, into Jason’s feathers with a whine.

A shudder wracked through him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” His voice was slurred and uneven.

Finally, he stopped speaking to a threat that wasn’t there.

With another violent shiver, he began looking around a little. Staring at the wrist of Jason’s wing. At the arm pinning him in place, then at the body he was half slumped onto.

Tim whined loudly, longingly, so eerily similar to calls for safety-protection-flock that it made Jason’s hindbrain go crazy. Tim began shifting against his brother’s hold, in a different way than before. Jason kept an arm and wing around him but let him move, a little wary. Tim twisted around until he and Jason were front to front, at which point he collapsed onto him with a low mournful sound, head beneath his chin and arms curling loosely around him.

Jason wrapped both arms tighter around him, keeping them on his lower back, and shifted them both until Jason was lying on his back with Tim half on top of him, tented beneath his wings. He kept singing the entire time, now on his third rendition of the lullaby. Tim had stopped mumbling. He hadn’t stopped shaking or crying. His breaths were better but still shaky and erratic.

Jason continued carding through his hair. He seemed to like that. And the singing, Jason kept that up too, even though his throat was beginning to tickle.

After a few minutes he noticed the tears had stopped and his breath had evened out. Tim was asleep. Jason didn’t blame him, panic attacks were exhausting. He carried him through the elevator and up the stairs to his room, set Tim in his bed and himself in a beanbag, despite all his instincts screaming about flock and physical contact and protection and perceived abandonment. He distracted himself with Tim’s copy of The Little Prince. In the original French, nice.

Tim awoke seventy minutes later. Not that Jason was counting. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, sporting an impressive bedhead. He licked his lips. His eyes landed on Jason and shifted rapidly from confusion to understanding to fear. He curled the blanket into his fist.

“You have some explaining to do.”

Tim huffed as if he thought this really was all blown out of proportion. As if. “Not here. My Nest.”

Ah, the Nest, Tim’s seperate base of operations and regular hang-out spot for Young Justice, not to be confused with the nest, an elevated platform of ropes and mattresses and blankets inside the Batcave. Not confusing at all.

Jason actually felt proud for a split second upon realising he was welcome in Tim’s safe space, an honour none of the other bats held, before remembering no, actually, this wasn’t trust this was fear. Fear caused by him, however accidental.

“Let’s go, then.”

[stromuprisahat]

When I read SoC,I loved Kaz,Inej,Matthias and Nina(didn't give a fuck about anyone else). However,I was "no,no,no,no" whenever Bardugo insisted Kaz and Inej were 16/17. With some isolated moments,I would be able to believe they were particularly capable,hardened teenagers. However,seeing the whole picture made me unable to buy they were so young. Their power,reputations,mindsets in a crime-filled town. Kaz was 27/28/29 and Inej was 26/27/28 in SoC/CK,according to what Bardugo had shown us. As an adult woman who spent two years being a sex slave and 8 years growing as a criminal and recovering from her trauma while healing from PTSD,Inej is admirable. As a 16 yo girl,it forces my suspension of disbelief. Yes,teens can be clever and wise,but wise and clever for their ages,they're not adults.

As for Kaz,he's emotionally immature,but he seems more like a stunted adult man. Besides,he's basically a crime lord. If Kaz,besides being a prodigy,was the son/protege of a criminal kingpin(instead of a nobody who started from scratch),I could see him having such reputation. But as some rando that got scammed at a young age,lol nope.

Also,the Kanej dynamics would feel more believable if they were grown ups who spent roughly a decade together. Also,there's a lot of comedy fodder for the two young adults having to cat herd a bunch of wildly different teens.

Yes, yes, yes!

(For Kaz's flavour of immaturity, him as crimi-protégé and Kanej's dynamics with quite younger rest of the Crows.)

I didn't notice the first time I was reading, but then again- it went so quickly, I missed much more-, but the two of them should definitely be older.

Kaz had to learn how to survive, built reputation strong enough to be sought after in Ketterdam underworld, climb through the ranks of the Dregs and rebuilt them. Inej isn't his only discovery- he has other people he recruited, for which he'd need to learn about them in the first place and earn their loyalty. None of it should realistically take only a few months. Not without a mentor or influential relative to clear his path for him.

If you'd tell me he's in his early twenties, I'd clap my hands for how quickly he raised so high.

Inej doesn't think, speak or act like a teenager, no matter how mature. This will be one of those moments I'm avoiding, since experience is very subjective to use as a scale, but I've met mature teenagers. They might have their priorities sorted, they might have heavy responsibilities, they might have their shit together more than any official adult, but there's always something, some aspect in which you'll recognize just how young they are. Inej haven't made me feel that way once.

She's wise for her age, but she's believably wise for mid-twenties.

The way they're comfortable around each other would make me guess some five years for sure. They might cooperate closely now, but first of all- I doubt Kaz would simply let anyone so close after a few weeks. Even with her valuable skills, I think Inej would need time to "worm" her way into his confidence. Second- they're NOT friends. Friendships are built on what you have in common, and I highly doubt Kaz is willing to share his past or feelings with anyone out of his own free will. Their relationship looks more like something, where Inej grew to trust him and opened up little by little, and AFTER SOME TIME managed to notice and figure out bits and pieces about him. Even ordinary co-workers bond by talking about their daily life. Kaz and Inej shouldn't have that. At least their first year or two.

It might be mostly that emotional maturity, but I'd guess Inej a bit older than Kaz.

[dailydragon08]

A Crime of A Different Kind

Pairing: Luke Skywalker x F!Jedi!Reader   Summary: Your and Luke's undercover mission to investigate imperial dealings in Tatooine's underworld doesn't go quite according to plan--especially with the pair of you undercover at Lord Halfoc's party posing as crime lord and consort. Warnings: grabby criminals, gross misogynistic comments, some non-consensual touching (but nothing too intense, because Luke would never allow that), making out, reader is in a very revealing dress (pictured above), implied/referenced drug use (not Luke or reader). A/N:  "Remnants" is a series of one shots in no particular order about the budding relationship between you and Luke as he trains you in the ways of the Force. I made a fancy cover for the first time, so hopefully it’s not trash. Find me on AO3 under DragonHeartstring360 and see my masterlist linked in my pinned post on my blog! Stay tuned for a part 2!

***

You glanced at Luke from across the dim throne room. Crime lords, drug dealers, and con men of all races loitered with their slaves and consorts at Halfoc’s party—and so did several imperialists, which was why you and Luke were here. You’d been sent by Mon Mothma to find more information about the deal the imperialists—who supposedly had a Force-sensitive among them, which was why your presence was crucial—were striking with the Tatooine crime lord to try and resurrect the fractured empire. You’d entered with fake invitations—with Luke as a fellow criminal named Anberrie and you as his slave girl.

“Consort,” he’d corrected you earlier aboard the Redeemer. “I refuse to call you a slave.”

He seemed to sense your gaze and met your eyes across the room. His costume consisted of a thin grey, long-sleeved v-neck shirt with matching pants and boots, a waist-length asymmetrical cape slung over one shoulder hiding the lightsaber at his belt. With his hair neatly swept away to the side of his forehead and stony look Leia had taught him, he looked every bit the rich criminal. His eyes softened as they turned to you and his shoulders ticked down several notches as he sighed. He shook his head slightly and you tried to send him a reassuring smile.

Just remember to breathe. You don’t want the empire’s Force user to sense your discomfort.

He nodded before taking a deep, slow breath—only to begin hacking into his elbow as the haze of smoke went up his nose.

You struggled to hide your smile. Maybe don’t breathe too deep.

He bit his lip to hide his chuckle as he turned back to the other guests near him. You glanced at the other consorts and dancers in the corner around you. Many of them chatted with each other, but you could sense their animosity, anger, and anxiety. You did your best to join the conversation enough to blend, but still stay to yourself enough to remain unremarkable.

Although the dress might not have been helping in that regard—if you could even call it a dress. It barely covered anything. The back was open with the green fabric in front creating a deep v that barely covered your chest and showed off your hips before connecting to a gold ring by your belly button. From there, the flowy skirt continued in an upside-down v to the floor, with a slit that exposed nearly your whole leg. The large sleeves flared out and extended to your knees, partially hiding the shock cuffs around your wrists and ankles—which Luke had sworn he wouldn’t even think of activating. However, it was the only alternative to chains, and the entire ensemble was a necessary evil for the current mission. Almost more nerve-wracking than the worst of Tatooine’s underworld ogling you was the fact that Luke would, too. Although the memory of him failing to function when you came out of your room on the Redeemer almost made you laugh. He’d been mid-sentence before doing a double take, his words spluttering to a halt. He’d let out a shaky breath as he practically melted and leaned on the table behind him for support. But, ever the gentleman, he had insisted you wear his cloak and gave you an apologetic look as he’d removed it from your shoulders later to stash for the trip back to the ship.

Your eyes wandered to him again as you sighed. He really did look strikingly handsome in his outfit—which would explain why some of Halfoc’s dancers were all over him. You could feel his discomfort as a Twi’lek woman pressed herself against his chest and ran a hand up and around his neck. He reached for you through the Force before gently grabbing her shoulders and moving her several steps back.

You bit your tongue to keep yourself from flying to his side. Stretching your legs, you turned to take in the dark walls, floor, and smoky haze of the central area. Several heavy shutters were partially open to allow airflow while keeping out the heat of the suns. A stage stood near a raised dais holding an empty throne with live music. Dancers flowed from the stage to prance between the circular tables and around the bench seats pressed against the walls, running their hands along different guests’ shoulders, whether they had their own consort on their lap getting handsy or not. Guards armed with blasters and spears with Halfoc’s symbol emblazoned on their chests stood at attention at each doorway and you were sure there were more hidden in the crowd.

Did you find anything yet? Luke’s voice rang soothingly in your head.

I’ve barely had a chance to get away. We need a distraction— Before you could finish your thought, you felt large hands roughly grope your butt before sliding around the bare skin of your waist. You jumped and glanced over your shoulder to see a large Trandoshan close behind you. You grimaced before turning to face the group of slaves before you, knowing any thrown elbows or cold remarks could blow your cover. They gave you sympathetic looks before most of them scurried off, the ones who stayed forming groups for safety.

You tensed and braced yourself as the Trandoshan’s hand descended your thigh, his fingers edging closer to the inside of your leg. You screwed your eyes shut, unable to resist the urge to throw your elbow back. Before it could make contact with his chest, however, you felt his hand suddenly rip away.

You turned to see Luke had practically materialized behind you. He grabbed your waist with his other hand and pushed you behind him, still holding the Trandoshan’s hand in a death grip. His blue eyes had turned icier than you’d ever seen them and you thanked the Maker you’d never been on the receiving end of that glare. “Don’t touch her,” he growled low in his throat. Although you were sure he was putting on some sinister airs for effect, you could feel his very real rage and disgust through the Force.

“Why?” the alien leered. “We can share. There’s plenty of her to go around.”

You felt Luke’s irritation grow beside you. “Why don’t you go find someone else to pass around before I make you regret it? This one’s mine.”

You swallowed hard. As degrading as the situation was, seeing him defend you so fiercely sent shivers through you for entirely different reasons.

The Trandoshan looked like he was about to argue but turned as a few guards hovered nearby with spears at the ready. “Boss doesn’t want too much trouble here,” one said. “The last thing you should be doing is fighting over some worthless slave girl.”

Luke bristled beside you. Unsure what else to do that would keep you looking in character, you pressed yourself flush against Luke’s chest and pushed him into a dark corner of the room. Several other guests had slave girls on their laps, their hands and lips roaming. A glance over your shoulder showed the Trandoshan slinking away to bother some other poor girl as you pushed Luke into a padded chair. He landed a bit more roughly than you intended, releasing a shaky breath as he looked up at you with round doe-eyes, his hands coming up to rest against the bare skin of your waist. He quickly retracted his flesh hand, but you held his gloved hand in place as you seated yourself in his lap.

“Sorry,” you hissed in his ear, thankful the music was loud enough to drown you out from any passersby. “You really need to work on not going bright red every time I touch you. It’s not very crime lord-y of you.”

He cleared his throat. “I would stop if I could, believe me.” His eyes turned soft in the murky light. “Are you all right?”

You nodded, seeing the guards still hovering and watching the pair of you from the corner of your eye. You wrapped an arm around Luke’s shoulder while grabbing his flesh hand and putting it back on your waist. “You can, um, touch to be more convincing if you need to.”

He gave you a stilted nod, his hand immediately falling to your fabric-covered leg. “I’m so sorry. You deserve so much more respect than what you’re getting in here. All these women do.” He stared at you for a moment before brushing some hair away from your face. “You know I have the utmost respect for you, right?”

You nodded before pressing your forehead to his. “I know, but I appreciate you reminding me.” He closed his eyes and sighed, pulling you closer to his chest. You sensed the guards turn and leave and finally let the tension bleed from your body, letting Luke’s sense of tranquility at your closeness wash over you. For a moment, you just sat on his lap, enjoying the feeling of him against you. Your fingers wandered from his shoulder to the hair at the nape of his neck of their own accord. Before you could pull back and apologize, he sighed and gently bumped his nose against yours, his fingers rubbing soothing circles along the fabric of your skirt.

You nearly lost yourself as his soft voice whispered, “I’m so sorry I’ve had to be rougher and more rude than usual. Mothma said to be convincing, but I hate this.”

“I know. It’s okay, I promise. I did manage to find out a bit of information and send it to Mothma, just in case something happens.”

He held you tighter. The slit in your skirt fell open to expose most of your leg and you felt him gently pull the fabric back in place, holding it there with his hand. “I won’t let anything happen.”

“Not very crime lord-y of you just now.”

He huffed out a breath that could’ve been a laugh. “I just…hate that they’re all leering at you.”

“That was sort of part of the job description.”

“I know, but I just…” he tilted his head back to meet your eyes. The smoke made his eyes water and brought out the blue even more. He opened his mouth to say something before sighing and giving you a soft shrug. “I—”

“I know. It’s okay. Hopefully, we’ll be out of here soon.” You almost forgot your next sentence as you lost yourself in his gaze. His gloved hand rubbed soothing circles on your back as he held you in his eyes. “Any luck locating our Force user?”

“Not yet. I can sense someone Force-sensitive—other than you, of course—but I’m having trouble pinpointing exactly where it’s coming from.”

“Seen Halfoc yet?”

“A few times across the room, but not up close. The fight will start soon though, and there’s a prep room that connects to the arena, so I think I will soon. The intel said it’s a habit of his to wish each contestant good luck before the fight. There’s a large Rodian following him around though, who I think might be our Force user.”

You squeezed him tighter. “Please be careful…do you know what you’re fighting?”

“The guests fight each other, then the final winner fights one of Halfoc’s pets. It’s not to the death, but it’s close—I think a guard is coming towards us.”

“Probably should look a little dazed, then.”

“What?”

“Like you’ve been…you know…having a good time.”

He was silent and tense underneath you before clearing his throat again.

You laughed. “You’re setting a record for that today.”

He smiled and coughed slightly but held you closer as you sat up in his lap and pressed his face into the exposed skin of your shoulder. Your hand dove into his hair more on instinct than anything else and he let out a shuddery exhale beneath you.

It’s just his body’s instinct, you told yourself to stifle your excitement. He’s probably…touch-starved or something. Although that wasn’t entirely true. He never hesitated to be physically affectionate to anyone, you included. And if his friendly little touches set you on fire, the way he was nearly trying to meld into you and hold you close now had your whole body pulsing.

Commotion and several cries behind you caught your attention. Two of the guests were wrestling on the floor in a fistfight. Luke held you tighter and turned in his chair to shield you with his body. He turned back to you, hovering his mouth close to your ear. “Here’s your distraction—go and be careful.”

You nodded before scrambling off his lap. In the other slaves’ and guests’ haste to get out of the way, you slipped through an unguarded doorway and melted into the shadows of the hall.

***

You felt Luke’s Force signature reach for yours, anticipation and worry clouding his mind as you sensed him coming closer. You almost smacked straight into his chest as you weaved through the drunk, animated crowd in the throne room.

Luke grabbed your upper arm in his hand, the question burning in his eyes and only relaxing when you nodded. “The fight is starting soon. We’re supposed to go to the prep room now. A lot of people are taking their consorts with them, so you should probably come with me to blend.”

You sensed another reason he wanted you with him, but merely nodded and let him lead you down a short hallway. Through a small, oval door sat a large, plain room with closed bay doors on the opposite side. Several plush chairs and tables covered with drinks and food bordered the walls. Medical droids hovered in the corner as Halfoc’s guards eyed the large group of guests and slaves meandering through the two other oval doors scattered along the back wall.

Luke’s hand gripped yours tightly as the two of you made your way into an open corner. He grabbed your waist and gently turned you away from the others, putting your hand on the lightsaber at his belt. With a combination of his cape and your skirt, you transferred his weapon into the holster hidden on your thigh, pinning it next to your own saber. His fingers brushed your bare leg in the exchange and you couldn’t help the resulting goosebumps and shiver.

He grimaced. “I would offer you my cape, but they would probably think that was too gentlemanly for a crime lord and his consort.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m okay.”

His blue eyes stared intently into your own and you felt his concern bleed into the Force. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, glancing behind him at the approaching redhead. He was short, portly, and dressed to the nines with a large Rodian following behind him. You couldn’t help wrinkling your nose at his slimy demeanor. “I think Halfoc’s coming to wish you luck.”

Luke’s eyes lingered on you for a moment before he closed them, taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, the crime lord persona was back in place in all its unfeeling glory. It was strangely terrifying and alluring at the same time. As he turned to meet Halfoc, his hand moving to tightly grasp your waist and pull you flush against him, you couldn’t help but think if he was a true crime lord, he would’ve easily had his pick of any man or woman in this room.

“Anberrie, isn’t it?” the man asked, coming to a halt before you. The Rodian stood silently at attention behind him with two other men in imperial uniforms. You could feel the Force flowing strongly from him and Luke’s gentle squeeze to your hip told you he did, too.

“Yes,” Luke replied. “Halfoc, I take it? Quite the party.”

Halfoc laughed. “The one and only. I throw many of these bashes but have never seen you at one. You must be a newcomer. What exactly is your business?”

“Spice trade.”

Halfoc chuckled. “Ah, yes, I’m very familiar with spice.”

Their conversation became lost to you as the Rodian shifted. The intel hadn’t said whether he was protecting Halfoc or sticking close by because of the deal they’d just made in the back offices—the one they thought had been private and unrecorded. His dark eyes studied you shamelessly, flitting up and down your frame. He glanced at one of the imperial officers before subtly flicking his hand as if swatting a fly. You felt the Force flow as the slit in your skirt was wrenched open. Before it could fly too far, Luke’s hand slid further down your waist to hold the skirt in place. His hand was practically on your butt with the angle he had to take to preserve your dignity, the movement pressing you even closer against him. You could feel the muscles of his chest and arms from the proximity and took a steadying breath.

The Rodian’s eyes fell to Luke’s hand and narrowed, finally taking in your companion. You glanced up to see Luke meeting the alien’s eyes with just as much intensity.

“Now, now, let’s play nicely,” Halfoc said. “This is my newest business associate and his own personal retinue…I trust their presence won’t be a problem?”

Luke turned his attention back to the man in front of him and gave him a cold smile. “Of course not. We’re only interested in securing more business, not trouble.”

Halfoc clapped Luke on the arm. “That’s what I like to hear. The fight will begin in a few minutes. You’ll be asked to remove any capes, jackets, and weapons on your person and give them to my guards for safekeeping. They’ll be returned to you after the fight, of course.” His eyes finally fell to you. “Quite the lovely arm candy you’ve got there. Mind if I—”

Luke turned to shield you with his body as Halfoc’s hand made a grab at your chest, his gloved hand securely holding your hip while his flesh hand pressed against the bare skin of your back to hold you close. “I do mind, actually.”

Halfoc’s eyebrows rose, but he laughed. “Well, to each his own. Be a good girl and give your master a good luck kiss, then.”

Luke turned to you with soft, concerned eyes. You licked your lips and stared for a moment before pressing a light kiss to the sharp line of his jaw, letting your lips linger selfishly. You felt his arousal grow through the Force and heard him take in a quiet hiss of breath as his gloved fingers tightened around your waist.

“Oh, come on,” Halfoc groaned. “A real one. You can’t be that stingy with her and then not take what you want. Don’t bother with consent from these types, boy.”

You felt Luke’s mix of disgust, concern, and anxiety through the Force.

Don’t blow our cover, you sent to him. Plus the Rodian is so close.

Luke closed his eyes for a moment. Are you sure? I won’t do it without your consent, no matter what Halfoc says…And it will have to be a bit rough to be believable.

You hesitated. Do it.

I’m so sorry.

It’s all right.

Luke’s flesh hand left your back to roughly cup both sides of your jaw. His face dove towards yours at a startling speed, but stopped just as his lips brushed against yours. You took a shaky breath in at the same time he did before he pressed a firm, but soft kiss to your lips.

You thought you heard Halfoc’s distant “there you go” before sensing him leave with his entourage, but couldn’t be sure. All you were sure of was how soft Luke’s lips were against yours. You’d pictured this moment so many times and only wished that it was real—maybe in the cockpit of the Redeemer, safely nestled in Luke’s lap in the pilot seat. The image only heightened your arousal and you couldn’t help melting into him as his hand glided down your neck and to the exposed skin at the small of your back.

You finally had to break for air and were surprised when he panted into your mouth just as hard as you. His flesh fingers gently traced shapes against your skin, finally flattening his palm out to slide up and down your spine before diving into the curls of your half-updo. You weren’t sure if he bent his head to continue the kiss first or if you did, but you wouldn’t be the one to end it. He tasted of something distinctly Luke that you couldn’t quite describe, but knew you wanted to experience every day for the rest of your life. As you sunk further into his embrace, he only pulled you closer, his gloved hand digging gently into your hip as yours slid up his chest to dive into the hair at the nape of his neck. He gasped against your lips as your fingers entwined with the soft strands. You could sense his excitement peaking through the bond you shared—and with a little embarrassment, realized you felt something else peaking against you that did not help your current predicament. A soft moan left your mouth before you could stop it, and the whole situation felt like a crime of a different kind. He didn’t seem to notice before a quiet groan left him as well.

You forced yourself to separate your lips from his, trying to keep your gasps for air to a minimum. He pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes, keeping a gentle, yet firm grip on you as he shuddered out his own breath. The hand on the small of your back slowly slid to your side. “Maker, you’re so soft,” he murmured. You felt his sudden humiliation bloom as his face turned an adorable shade of red. He pulled away from you and you bit back your laugh as he cleared his throat for the umpteenth time. “Sorry, I—I’m sorry.”

Before you could reply, the large bay doors opened behind him. Cheers and screams from the crowd assembled in the amphitheater seats poured in, as did a strong buffet of wind that blew Luke’s hair into his eyes. He blinked, letting out a stuttered whoosh as your fingers gently combed the strands back into place. He pressed his forehead to yours again for a brief moment before leaving a quick, light kiss on your forehead.

“Be careful,” you whispered.

“Only if you are,” he murmured as he hesitantly took a few steps back. You grabbed his hand and he gave you a reassuring squeeze. His eyes fell to your skirt billowing around your legs from the breeze, the slit now fully open and exposed. His eyes closed and another shuddery exhale seemed to leave him of its own accord before he turned away from you, letting your hand trail out of his as he made his way to the arena. As he removed his cape and tactical belt and handed it to a guard, you caught him licking his lips, letting his tongue linger for a moment longer than necessary.

You took your own deep breath, doing your best to stifle your concern as the announcer began to call out opponents. Each winner had to fight a new opponent and although it felt like an eternity as you wondered when Luke would be called and who he would be fighting, it gave you a good opportunity to ogle his back. His shirt was thin to account for the heat and clung to him in all the right places—and so did the pants.

As Luke waited with the other contestants, you noticed the Rodian and his guards were nowhere to be found. Just as you reached out with the Force, Halfoc sidled up next to you. He was shorter than you by several inches and you couldn’t keep the disgust from your face as he smirked and gently patted your butt. “Well, hello there, lovely. Now that your master’s occupied—”

“Anberrie, step forward,” the announcer’s voice rang throughout the arena.

Luke strode confidently forward, a standard-issue spear from the guard in his hand. He paused as the most recent winner stalked towards him, watching in confusion as he walked past Luke and back through the bay doors to sit down. A barred gate slid open with a screech on the other side of the arena and the Rodian—who stood several inches taller than Luke—made his way to the center of the stage. “Anberrie Darklighter versus Aros Tanwa.” The crowd cheered as he ignited a red lightsaber.

Luke turned to you in concern just as Halfoc began, “I couldn’t help but notice those kisses and touches were a bit…romantic for a master and his slave.” His beady eyes gleamed in the light of the suns. “Unless, of course, you’re not actually who you say you are.”

Several of Halfoc’s guards whirled around and pointed their blasters and spears at you as Aros’ imperial guards suddenly lunged out of the nearest door towards you. You yanked your lightsaber from your leg and ignited the blade, throwing Luke’s towards him and using the Force to guide it along its path to his hand.

Luke dropped his spear and activated his saber just as Aros jumped towards him, blocking a flurry of blows to the screams and boos of the audience. Halfoc’s guards yanked their master out of the way as you swung your own weapon, blocking several blaster shots and slicing the guards’ spears in half. The other guests dove for cover, joining the firefight, as their consorts fled into the throne room.

You deflected more fire, using the Force to throw objects in your pursuers’ path and fling them back several feet whenever they got too close. You carefully carved a path to Luke’s side and shielded his back while he dealt with Aros.

The recording of the meeting— Luke began.

Already sent it to Mothma. Now focus.

Aros suddenly backflipped into the stands, several spectators moving out of the way to allow him room, and disappeared into the crowd. A large roar filled the air from beyond the gate. The bay doors began to close and you and Luke glanced at each other before making a run for it. Another deep wail filled the air behind you as you blocked more blaster shots, tripping over your swirling skirts and sprawling to the ground. Luke glanced back and skidded to a halt.

“No, keep going!”

He sprinted back over to you, crouching just in time for another angry bellow to call your attention. A shadow loomed inside the gate, taking up the entire frame, before a Reek Bull emerged into the light of the desert. Its nose ring rattled as it shook its head, pawing at the ground and eyeing the two Jedi now trapped inside.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you grumbled as the bull charged toward you.

You rolled one way while Luke jumped the other as the animal approached you with surprising speed. It slowed to a halt just as the bay doors closed. From a high point in the stands, Aros flipped onto the bull’s back and used it as a launching point to dive at you. You rolled out of the way again before leaping to your feet and landing a hard kick in the center of the Rodian’s chest, using the Force to give it some extra oomph. He flew back with an oof and smacked into the bull’s side. The bull turned from where it was glaring Luke down to rocket Aros in a new direction with his front foot. You used the Force to grab the Sith’s body and fling him into a merchant’s display in the stands. Bits and bobbles went flying and the wood of the stall splintered and collapsed on top of him, buying you enough time to block more blaster fire.

Several of Halfoc’s guards jumped over the railing into the arena as the host’s voice called over the loudspeaker, “I want them alive for the moff!”

The guards weren’t much of a challenge for the Force and your lightsaber. The last few in the group fled towards the edge of the ring, raining fire at you until they were cut down by their own deflected shots. As the last of them fell, you felt a strange tingling sensation. Before you could ignore it and turn to help Luke, your entire nervous system jolted and shook under your skin. You crumpled into a heap on the ground as your muscles no longer obeyed your commands and your bones rattled inside your frame. Glancing down showed blue energy crackling around your shock cuffs and traveling up and down your arms, legs, and torso. You screwed your eyes shut and thrashed against the burning sensation, unable to contain a scream.

You thought you heard Luke call your name but couldn’t be sure over the popping in your ears. You risked a glance up to see imperial guards speeding towards you with electrostaffs before you curled into a ball again as more shockwaves rocked your body. The ground shook as the bull hurtled towards you. But instead of the feet of the beast or pointed edges of a spear greeting you, there were several screams and silence before you felt the cuffs split from your skin and fall to the sandy ground below.

You took several gulping breaths as you lay there shaking and whimpering. Luke was by your side in an instant, gently pulling you into his arms bridal style. “I’m sorry,” he murmured in your ear as he carried you towards the now docile and waiting bull. “Aros used the Force to activate the cuffs before running off.”

You looked around from the safety of Luke’s chest. The arena was in total chaos as guests ran screaming to the exits while the guards were busy fending off several more beasts that had escaped their cages and fled into the arena. A few had even scaled the railing and were running among the seats snapping up forgotten food and drink.

The bull sighed and lowered itself onto its belly as Luke approached. He gently helped you onto its back before climbing up behind you.

“Did you tame it?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

“Yes,” he replied, giving it a firm smack to the butt to urge it toward the arena's gate. “And I’ll be freeing it after we get out of here—hold on!”

He wrapped an arm around your waist while tightly holding the chain attached to the bull’s nose ring. The creature sped towards the gate, gaining momentum as it went and lowering its head. The guards dove out of the way with a yelp as the bull’s front horn shattered the doors and you careened into the open desert.

The ride was jarring to say the least, which didn’t help your screaming muscles and joints. You teetered on the bull’s back as your head spun and body ached only for Luke to pull you against him. You let your head fall against his shoulder, sinking into his solid chest and closing your eyes. His thumb rubbed soothing circles against your waist and you weaved your fingers through his, giving him a gentle squeeze as he gently brushed the tip of his nose against your cheek.

It was impossible to fall asleep on the bull’s back, but you still weren’t sure how much time had passed when Luke said, “Do you think you can jump?”

You nodded before sitting up with his help and swinging your legs over the side. He did the same, staring at you in concern before grabbing your hand. You both slid down the beast’s leathery side in unison as it roared before continuing its path past the neighborhood hiding your supply stash.

A strong wind buffeted the two of you as you approached the modest stone and clay houses. People hurried to and fro to collect their laundry and children alike and ushered them inside.

“What’s happening?” you asked as you followed Luke down an alleyway.

He still gripped your hand tightly, only letting go to dig in a chest buried in a corner between two buildings. The narrow strip between houses created a wind tunnel and you watched his golden-brown hair dance in awe, resisting the urge to reach out and smooth it back into place. As it whipped away from his ear, it allowed a peek at the sharp line of his jaw, bringing back memories of the way that exact spot had tasted against your lips earlier—

“Y/N? Are you all right? Did you hear me?”

You blinked and met his worried blue eyes where he was still crouched over the open chest. “What? Sorry.”

He slung his pack over his shoulder and stood, retaking your hand. “I said a sandstorm is starting, so we need to find shelter. We won’t make it back to the ship in time without a speeder, which I doubt these people have to spare. This is a poorer neighborhood.”

You nodded, reaching for your own pack. “How long do we have?”

“Not long—here, let me carry that.”

“But I’m fine—”

“I insist.” He hauled your bag on top of his own, leading you back out into the main thoroughfare.

Before you could get far, a woman with a baby strapped to her front met your eyes. Luke reached out a hand to stop her as the wind practically knocked you over in your weakened state. You felt you’d float away if you weren’t careful. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to steady you before shouting to be heard over the building gale. “Do you know a place where we can wait this out?”

“There’s a homestead that’s been abandoned for a while, about a half hour’s walk that way. It’s a bit old and decrepit, but it’s better than nothing. I would offer my place if I had room, but I’m staying with my mother and we’re full to the brim.”

“That’s all right, thank you.”

“Do you want me to see if I have some sort of wrap for your wife at home? That dress can’t be comfortable.”

You felt your cheeks warm, meeting Luke’s eyes as his own colored slightly. He squeezed your hand. “I have something for her, but thank you again.”

She nodded before scurrying off, using her sleeve to cover her child’s face.

“Here, hold on a minute.” Luke set your packs down, digging through his before pulling out his cloak. He paused, taking a shaky breath as a gust of wind parted the slit in your skirt again, sending it billowing behind you. Before you could be too embarrassed, a wave of dizziness overtook you and you grabbed his arm. Luke caught you against his chest before wrapping his cloak around you. “I’m going to fasten this by your waist so you have more coverage for your legs. Do you think you can hold it by your chest?”

You nodded, keeping a hole open to loop your arm through while holding the fabric closed in your fist. Luke took your hand and started in the direction the woman had pointed.

“Do you know where she’s sending us?”

Luke swallowed hard and nodded, squeezing your hand. “I do.”

“Where?”

“…A burned down farm.”

[byzantine-nectarine]

From an ancient homily for Holy Saturday:

The Lord's Descent Into The Underworld (attributed to Saint Epiphanius of Salamis) Something strange is happening - there is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh and He has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and Hell trembles with fear. He has gone to search for our first parent, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and in the shadow of death, He has gone to free from sorrow the captives Adam and Eve, He who is both God and the Son of Eve. The Lord approached them bearing the Cross, the weapon that had won Him the victory. At the sight of Him Adam, the first man He had created, struck his breast in terror and cried out to everyone, “My Lord be with you all.” Christ answered him, “And with your spirit.” He took him by the hand and raised him up, saying, “Awake, O sleeper, and rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light. “I am your God, who for your sake have become your son. Out of love for you and for your descendants I now by My own authority command all who are held in bondage to come forth, all who are in darkness to be enlightened, all who are sleeping to arise. I order you, O sleeper, to awake. I did not create you to be held a prisoner in Hell. Rise from the dead, for I am the Life of the dead. Rise up, work of My hands, you who were created in My image. Rise, let us leave this place, for you are in Me and I am in you; together we form only one person and we cannot be separated. “For your sake I, your God, became your son; I, the Lord, took the form of a slave; I, whose home is above the heavens, descended to the earth and beneath the earth. For your sake, for the sake of man, I became like a man without help, free among the dead. For the sake of you, who left a garden, I was betrayed to the Jews in a garden, and I was crucified in a garden. “See on my face the spittle I received in order to restore to you the life I once breathed into you. See there the marks of the blows I received in order to refashion your warped nature in My image. On My back see the marks of the scourging I endured to remove the burden of sin that weighs upon your back. See My hands, nailed firmly to a tree, for you who once wickedly stretched out your hand to a tree. “I slept on the Cross and a sword pierced My side for you who slept in Paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side has healed the pain in yours. My sleep will rouse you from your sleep in Hell. The sword that pierced Me has sheathed the sword that was turned against you. “Rise, let us leave this place. The enemy led you out of the earthly Paradise. I will not restore you to that Paradise, but I will enthrone you in Heaven. I forbade you the tree that was only a symbol of life, but see, I who am Life itself am now one with you. I appointed cherubim to guard you as slaves are guarded, but now I make them worship you as God. The throne formed by cherubim awaits you, its bearers swift and eager. The Bridal Chamber is adorned, the banquet is ready, the eternal dwelling places are prepared, the treasure houses of all good things lie open. The Kingdom of Heaven has been prepared for you from all eternity."

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 2) Chapter Seventeen

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Seventeen: One Hell of a Ship

Summary: Ciel gets a new case about scientific reincarnation, so he, Sebastian, (Y/N), and Snake board the Campania.

            “Hiiii there, Lord Earl!” chirped Lau as he walked into Ciel’s dining room and interrupted him as he read the newspaper and ate breakfast in peace.

            An irk mark appeared on Ciel’s forehead. Lau was intruding as usual.

            “I trust you’ve been doing well?” continued Lau.

            “Lau!” exclaimed Ciel.

            “I was hoping to help myself to breakfast, but you’ve already eaten?” Lau sighed in disappointment.

            Ciel scowled. “What in the blazes are you doing h—?!”

            “Didn’t you die the other day?” chirped Lau, blinking at Sebastian.

            “Listen to me when I’m talking to you!” said Ciel in irritation.

            Lau smiled pleasantly at him, and (Y/N) blinked. He took Sebastian’s “resurrection” well.

            “What business could you possibly have with me at this hour?” demanded Ciel, crossing his arms. “Surely you didn’t come all this way just for a handout of breakfast?”

            “I have some black market information for my Lord Earl,” said Lau.

            Ciel paused. Lau actually doing his job? He would allow him to speak. “What is it?”

            “Apparently, there is a hospital that raises the dead,” said Lau.

            (Y/N) raised an eyebrow. Now that never went well. Mortals who tread the line between life and death always ended up in trouble. They knew that from experience.

            “A hospital that raises the dead?” repeated Ciel. “Is that the one mentioned in today’s papers?”

            “Yes, that’s it!” said Lau, sitting down and grabbing food.

            “Sorry, but I haven’t the least interest in the occult,” said Ciel.

            (Y/N) and Sebastian glanced at each other, suppressing amused smirks.

            “But occult it may not be,” said Lau.

            “Come again?” said Ciel dubiously.

            “Karnstein Hospital,” said Lau. “They seem to be doing quite a bit of shopping on the black market docks Lord Earl has left in my care.”

            “For drugs?” asked Ciel.

            “No. People,” said Lau. “They’re illegally purchasing slaves from overseas, but the numbers are quite extraordinary. I wouldn’t think for a minute that they could fit all those people into the hospital.”

            “Might they not be disposing of them once they’ve served their purpose?” suggested Ciel.

            “Well, to be frank, I don’t care about those details one way or another, but a hospital like that really shouldn’t be making such headlines in the average citizen’s newspapers, don’t you agree?” said Lau.

            “So in other words, you mean to say that there is a possibility they are resurrecting the dead via illegal human experimentation?” said Sebastian.

            “Exactly!” said Lau.

            “If this turns out to be true, it’s a case of underworld forces meddling with society at large,” said Ciel. “It’s best to strip roses of their thorns before they cut one’s hands. Sebastian, (Y/N), look into it at once.”

            “Leave it to us, sir,” said Sebastian.

            “We’ll handle everything, my Lord,” said (Y/N).

            “Well, have fun then! Thank you for breakfast!” Lau rose and left the room.

            An irk mark appeared on Ciel’s forehead. “That bastard took a platter of sweets with him!”

            Sebastian smirked, and (Y/N) smothered a chuckle as they left the room.

            “It seems we have a hospital to visit,” said Sebastian.

            (Y/N)’s nose twitched. “Illegal experimentation.”

            “Yes. Humans sacrificing one another for power. How selfish,” remarked Sebastian. “And yet they call our kind the cruel ones.”

            “I doubt they’ve succeeded,” said (Y/N). “Human technology can’t bring people back to life. They can barely perform surgery.”

            “And yet something has raised considerable excitement,” said Sebastian.

            “That may be, but if that hospital has successfully completed any experiment regarding the dead and resurrection, I doubt they did it on their own,” said (Y/N). “There must be a supernatural connection.”

            “I agree,” said Sebastian. “Though I cannot see what any supernatural being would gain from human resurrection. Grim Reapers, although odd, deal with death for a living, so they wouldn’t gain anything from it, angels care about souls going to heaven, and our kind cause death for often than not.”

            “Supernatural doesn’t mean non-human,” remarked (Y/N).

            Sebastian glanced at them before considering. “Ah, yes. Oracles, psychics, and the like.” He smirked. “I wonder what it could be in this case.”

            “Witch,” said (Y/N). Their eyes narrowed. “But any proper witch knows that to work with death is to risk their own.”

            “Then we’re back to simple humans,” said Sebastian.

            “There are going to be consequences to whatever they’re doing, no matter who or what is behind it,” said (Y/N) darkly.

            Sebastian smirked. “I suspect we’ll be the ones delivering the consequences.”

            (Y/N) returned his grin.

l

            “What is making you grin so?” remarked Sebastian as he and (Y/N) poked their heads into Ciel’s office after Elizabeth left.

            Ciel jumped. “Don’t scare me like that! And I wasn’t grinning! Moreover, what are you two wearing?!”

            “As they say…when in Rome, do as the Romans do,” said Sebastian.

            “We blended in,” said (Y/N). The pair were dressed as a doctor and nurse. “And it’s fortunate that we did since we found some interesting bits of information.”

            “Insofar as the previously discussed Karnstein Hospital is concerned, Rian Stoker, the hospital director and other leading physicians from the hospital are holding meetings under the moniker of the ‘Aurora Society,’ ” said Sebastian.

            “In truth, this ‘Aurora Society’ is a secret society consisting solely of physicians—its motto, ‘absolute salvation of mankind through medical science—we have confirmed that its members conduct unlawful human experiments daily within the hospital,” reported (Y/N).

            “According to one nurse’s testimony, the Aurora Society periodically holds presentations of their experimental results, solicits contributions from aristocrats, and so on,” continued Sebastian.

            “There were no slaves to be found inside the hospital. Whether or not the human experimentation and the supposed resurrection of the dead are related remains unknown,” finished (Y/N).

            “It doesn’t get any more suspect than that,” said Ciel.

            “Indeed,” said Sebastian. “We can safely assume that the Aurora Society holds definite clues regarding this matter.”

            “When is the next meeting?” asked Ciel.

            “It’s going to take place aboard a passenger liner sailing out from the Southampton on April seventeenth,” said (Y/N).

            “Hmph. A gathering on a ship does rather scream aristocrats,” said Ciel. “Did you say April seventeenth…?” His eyes widened suddenly, and he stood up in alarm. “What is the name of that ship?!”

            “The Blue Star Line’s luxury passenger liner Campania,” said Sebastian.

            Ciel’s eyes remained wide. “We’re getting on that ship. Purchase tickets immediately.”

l

            “So this is the Campania, huh?” Finny gazed up at the ship in amazement.

            “Whoa, it’s huge,” said Baldroy.

            “Aw, I’m jealous that Sebastian, (Y/N), and Snake get to go with the Young Master,” said Finny.

            “Our duties to the Young Master mean we must travel with him,” said Sebastian. “Now, we expect you to carefully see to your duties while we’re away.”

            “Yessir!” Finny, Baldroy, Mey-Rin, and Tanaka saluted Sebastian.

            “Well, we’ll be off then,” said (Y/N), stepping onto the gangplank with Sebastian.

            The group of four walked onto the top of the ship. From below, the Phantomhive servants waved up at them while confetti flew through the air and people cheered. The Campania’s maiden voyage had begun.

            (Y/N) glanced down at the sea dubiously. “It just had to be in the middle of water…”

            “Not a fan of water? How very catlike,” teased Sebastian.

            “I just find it much easier to do my job when not surrounded by miles of ocean,” said (Y/N), nose twitching.

            Sebastian looked far too amused at their expression, and they leveled a look at him.

            “C-Ciel?!”

            Ciel and his servants turned to find Elizabeth standing before her family and staring at him.

            Ciel raised his hand. “I-I had hoped to surprise you…”

            Elizabeth embraced him happily. “You said you couldn’t come with us! I’m so very happy!”

            “Elizabeth! Stop behaving so indecently in public at one!” Francis, Elizabeth’s mother, gave her a stern look.

            “Quite right, Lizzie,” said Edward, her brother. “Besides…” He glared at Ciel dramatically. “I have yet to acknowledge you as my future brother-in-law! So hurry up and move away from her!”

            Elizabeth stepped back and sighed. “Really, Edward, there you go saying things again…”

            Ciel gulped as Alexis, Elizabeth’s father, gazed at him darkly. “L-Lord Midford. It has been quite some time since we last met…” Ciel stammered over his words. “Erm, how ha—!”

            Alexis grabbed Ciel in a tight hug. “It has been far too long, my future son! You are adorable as usually!”

            “Really! That’s quite enough!” admonished Francis.

            “Father! That’s not fair!” cried Elizabeth. “I want to do that too!”

            “Stop that, you two!” ordered Francis as Ciel was pulled between Alexis and Elizabeth.

            (Y/N) struggled greatly with not smirking in amusement at how similar Alexis and Elizabeth were.

l

            “So we’ll get to be together for the whole three weeks?” said Elizabeth excitedly.

            “Yes, that’s right,” said Ciel.

            “This will be our first time being together for so long!” she said happily. “You must escort me to the dinner parties, Ciel.”

            “I will, I will,” said Ciel, avoiding the glare Edward was sending his way. As the Midfords talked amongst themselves, he groaned quietly. “What have I gotten myself into?”

            “Is it not just as well?” remarked Sebastian. “The meeting will be held on the eve of the nineteenth. Why not leisurely enjoy a rare holiday?”

            “Well…I guess a break is called for every so often,” said Ciel.

            “For you, at least. Poor Sebastian and I have to keep working,” said (Y/N) impishly.

l

            Two days and innumerable soirees and tea parties and dances later, Ciel was yet again being dragged to the First Class Lounge by Elizabeth. Although he was supposed to escort her, (Y/N) rather thought Elizabeth was the one escorting Ciel.

            “Ciel, look, look! Those cakes are so cute!” chirped Elizabeth. “I’ll go get some for us, Ciel!”

            The Earl breathed a long-suffering sigh as she ran off. “Aristocrats really do do nothing but get together daily to talk nonsense about this family and that…I feel like a fool for having traded in my work with this.”

            “Oh? Even the Marchioness’s invitation to a fencing match isn’t interesting?” said (Y/N), smirking.

            Ciel shivered at the idea. “Do you really want to keep me from greeting the goddess of freedom that badly?”

            “That aside, Young Master,” said Sebastian. “Tonight is the night.”

            All three straightened. The night of the Aurora Society’s meeting had arrived.

            “I know,” said Ciel.

            “It seems the convening of the Aurora Society will be signaled by a waiter carrying empty glasses and walking the hall,” said Sebastian. “Participants are to take a glass and head for the meeting place.”

            “Don’t miss that signal,” said Ciel.

            “As you wish, sir,” said Sebastian.

            “We’ll alert you as soon as it happens,” said (Y/N).

            Behind them, low whispers about Snake’s appearance reached Sebastian and (Y/N)’s ears. Snake clenched his fists anxiously as the familiar criticisms of his scaley appearance began. (Y/N) and Sebastian glanced at each other before stepping towards Snake.

            “You’re not used to crowds?” said Sebastian.

            Snake avoided their eyes. “We look different from everyone else, so if we’re together, Smile, Black, and Cat will become laughingstocks as well. -says Donne.”

            “What of it?” said (Y/N).

            Snake blinked and looked up.

            (Y/N) shrugged. “They’re just humans. Their opinions don’t matter.”

            “In any case, I’m free to choose my companions,” said Ciel.

            “You are now the footman of a distinguished aristocrat,” said Sebastian. “Carry yourself with confidence and hold your head up high.” Snake stared at him in surprise.

            “Sebastian, my Lord,” said (Y/N) as they watched a man take an empty glass from a server. “It’s time.”

            “We’re going after him,” said Ciel. “Snake, stay here.” He looked at the plate of food Sebastian had given him. “Take care of this.” He pushed it into Snake’s hands before heading up the stairs.

            Sebastian and (Y/N) followed him. It was time to see if this resurrection was all it was said to be.

Taglist:

@technikerin23

@im-making-an-effort

@izzieg3987

@jinxxangel13

@alexpangender

@otomyoli

@neenieweenie

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@anxious-chick

@bellacastiel

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@oceansfloor

@neuvilleteismybby

[thegnosticsphere]

Defining Hell:

Generally, Hell is considered as the place where the sinful are sent at the end of their worldly life to be punished. Yet, we are presented with our next issue of what this punishment actually is, who it is applicable to and what it represents in the nature of the Universe.

Drawing from previous notes, we might find an inclusion of the contemporary misinterpretation of the Problem of Evil (better framed as the Problem of Providence) where the presence of Hell indicates a wrathful nature to the Divine. The rhetoric falls short, however, when we establish that Epicurus was referring to the capacity, and willingness, of the deities to actively intercede in the affairs of the world. So, the problem cannot be fully applied here.

Hell as Creation

Our next issue is the placement of Hell. We can, for example, look at descriptions of the Devil (various names apply but let us just imagine an archetypal adversary) falling to an established area. This implies that Hell already existed, but if man was created later - then why would the presence of Hell even be necessary?

The assumption is then that Hell is not separate from Gd, as noted in Isaiah 45:7 where Gd defines his omnipotence as being non-dual. We can then apply the concept of 'Degree', and define Hell as:

An area that is distant from Gd yet still present in His Creation (it is thus a very distant or dual form)

An area that represents a capacity of Gd made manifest (here, Gd as purifier).

The first places an interesting emphasis on Psalm 6:5 where Sheol (the Judaic Abode of the Dead, a realm rather than a grave proper) is a place where the Lord is not definitively remembered. This abode of the Dead but we find an especial note in Isaiah 5:24:

"Therefore Sheol has enlarged its throat and opened its mouth without measure; and Jerusalem's splendour, her multitude, her din of revelry and the jubilant within her, descend into it."

We see a small pattern which somewhat aligns with the Gnostic Hymn of the Pearl:

"VII: But from some occasion or other, They learned I was not of their country. With their wiles, they made my acquaintance; yea, they gave me their victuals to eat. I forgot that I was a King's Son, and became a slave to their king. I forgot all concerning the Pearl, for which my Parents had sent me; And from the weight of their victuals, I sank down into a deep sleep."

So, assuming that Sheol was rather a place of darkness and forgetfulness, we don't really have a major basis for the contemporary concept of Hell as a fiery pit though that would've further been established in the New Testament.

My personal understanding of it is that it was a matter of translation. The Septuagint for example translates Sheol into either Hades or Tartaros. Shawna Dolansky (n.d) describes this:

"The word Sheol appears sixty-five times in the Hebrew Bible. Since it often seems to connote an underworld (Gen 42:38; Prov 9:18) or the depths of the earth (Deut 32:22; Amos 9:2), it is tempting to conflate it with later postexilic ideas about hell as a place of punishment, such as those that appear in the New Testament (e.g., Matt 11:23 // Luke 10:15; Luke 16:23; Rev 20:15). This conflation begins as early as the Septuagint (LXX) in which “Sheol” is translated from the Hebrew into Greek as “Hades.”

Hell as Death

It is common to hear about the idea of a 'second death' which implies two major things:

The material death is not the end, thus implying a spiritual point after death that allows for the concept of a second death.

If the body dies, then it is rather the soul that dies or succumbs to some form of 'spiritual death'.

This concept, however, becomes problematic when we view the Harrowing of Hell which implies that the Realm of the Dead had spirits within it - and they had existed for a long time before the Death and Descent of Christ. This then describes a sort of spiritual immortality that allows for this to occur.

So, how does a "Second Death" actually apply?

We might actually view the concept of a Second Death in view of Revelations where the 'Death' is a rejection of Doctrine. Again, drawing from the Hymn of the Pearl, this identification with worldliness involves an immediate association with its laws. The Denial of Gd is then to reject the spiritual concept of immortality and to then 'die' or be forever trapped within the Realm of the Dead. Likewise, we find the presence of the Last Rites which include:

The Act of Contrition The Sacrament of Confession The Apostle's Creed or the Testament of Faith The Anointing The Viaticum The Final Prayers

Of particular interest is the Sacrament of Confession and the Act of Contrition which both require an acknowledgement of Gd's mercy. This recognition prior to Death is not only an act of Memento Mortis but also a way of asserting a belief in the Faith - thus declaring something akin to: "Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil for you are with me."

Hell as an Abode (II)

In 'A Treatise on the Soul' by Tertullian, an apologist, we find an interesting concept:

(Side Rant: we also find mentions of pederasty which then put Leviticus into question but anyway)

"With the same law of His (Christ's) being, He fully complied, by remaining in Hades in the form and condition of a dead man; nor did He ascend into the heights of Heaven before descending into the lower parts of the Earth, that He might there make the Patriarchs and prophets partakers of himself"

Likewise, Tertullian goes on to mention the idea of Hell, or rather Hades, as an abode for the dead:

Well, then, what difference is there between Heathens and Christians, if the same person awaits them all when dead?

So, we are then brought to a few key issues:

Hell as Hades/Sheol or the Resting Place of the Dead

Hell as an area of Punishment and Purification (Thus possibly tying to the Graeco-Roman understanding viewed through Tartaros - i.e. a culture interprets a new theology through its own Lens. So Sheol became represented by the Greek Hades and Tartaros, then later as a concept of Hell - something something - the Romans did it.)

Hell as a Degree relating to the Presence of the Divine or Lack Thereof.

Hell as a State of Being

My mother believed that Earth was Hell, or the Catholic Concept of Hell. This was due to her understanding that the soul cannot feel pain or suffering, but we do and so we must be present in an area with the emotions are present. So, to her, she believed that Hell was more a state of being rather than anything else.

I, myself, carry this belief with the understanding that Sin is not so much an action or set of actions as it is a state of separation from a defined 'Spiritual Purity'.

Understanding this, and in line with the understanding that Hell is not different nor separate from Gd (as seen in the Book of John), Hell then represents a state in which the aspirant is separated from Divine Mercy. We find this alluded to in the Seven Spirits of Wrath within the Gospel of Mary Magdalene, in which seven forces act in the Material so as to obstruct the Soul's union with the Divine, these are:

Darkness Desire Ignorance Zeal for Death The Kingdom of the Flsh The Foolish Fleshly Wisdom Angry Man's Wisdom

But if such a state exists, then a secondary or preferred state must also exist?

We then find the whole field of philosophy dedicated to the Soul and what defines redemption? For example, choice-based Soteriology in which it is the conscious belief in the Divine, namely Jesus or Gd, that redeems the Soul. Considered further are the Five Articles of Remonstrance of which one reflects this choice-based Soteriology:

"That agreeably thereunto, Jesus Christ, the Savior of the World, died for all men and for every man, so that he has obtained for them all, by his death on the cross, redemption and the forgiveness of Sins; yet that no one actually enjoys this forgiveness of sins except for the believed, according to the word of the Gospel of John 3:166 "For Gd so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."

So the concept of choice-based redemption is present, and this is noted in the description of Tertullian, but we find our next issue in Predestination. It is easy to believe in free-will, but it comes into conflict with Predestination as seen in the Scriptures. We are thus brought to confront two primary issues:

The Presence of a Hell (as Abode of the Dead) implies an order in which there is already a determined end for all things.

The Forgiveness of Sins has the further implication of antinomian thought which is found in a few cult-like sects of Christianity.

We find in Jake Stratton-Kent's "The Tesament of Cyprian the Mage" (2014)

"In the more 'old school' form of Apokatastasis or Restitutionism as it relates to magic, these, while impermanent, do not vanish in a puff of theology. Purgatory, particularly, is a most useful concept in expressing both European and African derived traditions concerning the dead. Likewise Hell, although not a place of perpetual torment but of purgation, retains significance in a schema involving certain spirit entities."

The Presence of Hell, and arguably Purgatory, thus reflect less the nature of wrath and more the nature of purification. It is roughly akin to the Theurgic Practices in which a person, through invocation, prayer and other similar rituals, obtains a mind closer to the Divine. Conversely, rejection (and the subsequent state of purification) is alluded to in Eliphas Levi's description of Origen:

"Origen's opinion concerning the devils, is: The Spirits who act of their own free will, left the service of Gd with their Prince, the Devil; if they began to repent a little, are clothed with humane flesh; that further by this repentance, after the Resurrection, by the same means the which they came int the flesh, they might at the last return to the vision of Gd, being then also freed from etheriiall and aeriall bodies..."

Conclusion

It is therefore of interest to dismantle the concept of Hell as seen in contemporary form - less of an area of punishment but of three main features:

The Full Abode of the Dead

The Realm of Purification (associated with the Chthonic or Terrestrial Plane)

A Reflection of Grace.

On the very last, assuming from Origen and so too the Cult of the Martyrs, the presence of Hell is indicative of the natural state of purification. A force that goes down is inevitably met with resistance -- and this force can be best assumed as such concepts as the HGA, the Guardian Angel, or the Good Daimon.

We find in the Divine Pymander:

"And such an one never ceaseth (sin), having unfulfilled desires, and unsatisfiable concupiscences, and always fighting in darkness; for the Demon always afflicts and tormenteth him continually and increaseth the fire upon him more and more."

We can then also support the idea of Hell as a state - in which the soul undergoes its lamentations and mourning (and the aforesaid fighting in the darkness through the mind) and is separated from Gd. Yet, nothing is ever truly separate since all that is, is because of that Original Mover. Thus the presence of one indicates the presence of the other - Hell is of Heaven and Heaven of Hell.

If one reaches the bottom of a ladder and seeks to move, there is no other way than upwards on that same ladder. Likewise, if the Evil Daimon represents Gd's grace as the Thelemic 'Momentum of the Universe" working against the person, thus causing restriction. Likewise, the Holy Genius represents that capacity of Gd's grace so as to guide the aspirant in line with that same momentum. Whereas one seeks to stop by way of evidence (i.e. the review that this path causes suffering and distance), the other shows the correct path (and thus Hell is Harrowed, that is that the person is removed from the State of Hell, represented by Separation, and moved onto the path of Redemption.

[suzannahnatters]

Flash Fic: The Gardens of Hades

The gardens of Hades are barren when I come.

He snatches me from the sunlit lands and carries me to the underworld, a dark chasm lit only by the distant flames of Tartarus. His house is of black marble, and as he drags me through the shadowed halls, I try to empty my mind of everything but this moment.

I know the stories. I know that the gods have cruel desires.

Instead, he opens the door to a walled garden. A black pool glitters at the centre. Naked sticks rattle in the earth, but nothing lives here.

“This is yours, Lady Persephone,” he says.

Then he leaves.

.

I’m just glad Hades leaves me alone, so I don’t ask questions. I infuse the pool with light and call grass and asphodel from the dead soil.

When he visits again, he comes with a gift.

“I have brought you a servant.” A veiled shade follows him into the garden.

I wonder if he wants me to thank him for giving me a slave when I once had friends, a desert when I once had flowers.

I wonder why he took me.

Hades inspects a young shrub. “What’s this?”

“A pomegranate,” I say.

For a moment, I think he’s going to speak. Then he swallows the impulse and leaves.

.

On the day my pomegranate tree blooms, I find the shade sitting beneath the tree wiping her eyes with her veil. She says her first word: Springtime.

Little by little, she remembers how to speak. She talks about finishing this garden and moving on, the underworld blooming under my touch.

She doesn’t remember her name, so I call her Lethe.

.

My pomegranate tree bears fruit, but as I peel it open Lethe grabs my wrist. “If you eat, you will become a creature of his realm.”

I hurl the fruit at the wall.

.

It’s only a matter of time till my mother finds me.

Hades keeps sending gifts: servants, seeds, pruning-hooks and shovels. As the garden fills with life, so do the shades. The third time he visits, he dismisses the servants and looks at me with tired eyes. I wonder if he is always this sad.

“Your mother grieves without hope. Crops and men die, and no one sacrifices to the gods.” He sighs. “I am to send you back.”

Back to the home he took from me. Back to mother and wind and sunlight, but first I have one question.

“Why did you take me?” I spit.

He is the lord of the dead. He cannot sugar his words, as other gods might. “I need you,” he admits.

I think of Lethe, and to my surprise, I understand. I am springtime, but he is pain. No wonder the dead suffer, if that is all he can give them.

Before he can stop me, I rip open a pomegranate, and the juice is sour on my tongue.

The gardens of Hades are barren when I come.

But where I tread, they bloom. ---- I wrote this flash fic for the Pilgrim Artists' Festival, a small Christian festival of art, music, and words which runs every year in Tasmania's Huon Valley. The theme for the 2019 festival was "Grief and Hope", and I at once thought of Dorothy Sayers' poem, Rex Doloris, which imagines Hades as the King of Grief. This is the 500-word short story that resulted. I'd been looking for a way of retelling the story for nearly as long as I can remember, and this ficlet is the first step in that process. I can promise you that it won't be the last.

The 2023 Pilgrim Artists' Festival is now open for submissions of fiction, non-fiction, poetry, art, and music from Christian, Nicene-Creed-affirming artists, including children and adults, anywhere in the world. This year's prompt is "Beauty in the Everyday" and there is a 500 word limit on literary entries. There are also dozens of prizes available - check them out and submit here.

[butterflies-and-bumble-bees]

Exult, let them exult, the hosts of heaven, exult, let Angel ministers of God exult, let the trumpet of salvation sound aloud our mighty King's triumph!

Be glad, let earth be glad, as glory floods her, ablaze with light from her eternal King, let all corners of the earth be glad, knowing an end to gloom and darkness.

This is the night, when once you led our forebears, Israel's children, from slavery in Egypt and made them pass dry-shod through the Red Sea.

This is the night that with a pillar of fire banished the darkness of sin.

This is the night that even now, throughout the world, sets Christian believers apart from worldly vices and from the gloom of sin, leading them to grace and joining them to his holy ones.

This is the night, when Christ broke the prison-bars of death and rose victorious from the underworld.

Our birth would have been no gain, had we not been redeemed.

O wonder of your humble care for us! O love, O charity beyond all telling, to ransom a slave you gave away your Son! O truly necessary sin of Adam, destroyed completely by the Death of Christ! O happy fault that earned so great, so glorious a Redeemer!

O truly blessed night, worthy alone to know the time and hour when Christ rose from the underworld!

This is the night of which it is written: The night shall be as bright as day, dazzling is the night for me, and full of gladness.

But now we know the praises of this pillar, which glowing fire ignites for God's honor, a fire into many flames divided, yet never dimmed by sharing of its light, for it is fed by melting wax, drawn out by mother bees to build a torch so precious.

O truly blessed night, when things of heaven are wed to those of earth, and divine to the human.

Therefore, O Lord, we pray you that this candle, hallowed to the honor of your name, may persevere undimmed, to overcome the darkness of this night.

Receive it as a pleasing fragrance, and let it mingle with the lights of heaven.

May this flame be found still burning by the Morning Star: the one Morning Star who never sets, Christ your Son, who, coming back from death's domain, has shed his peaceful light on humanity, and lives and reigns for ever and ever.

(my favourite parts the Exsultet)

[notapaladin]

I was inspired by an old "your OCs as companions" meme template I found and decided to combine it with an official-encyclopedia-style blurb. Highly recommend it tbh.

(Font: Liberation Sans 9 pt)

Text below the readmore:

Sidebar

SPECIES: Human

HOMEWORLD: Dromund Kaas

AGE: 22

HOBBIES: Historical research, gardening, archaeology

PREFERRED WEAPONS: Matched set of single-blade sabers with ornate golden details; they are family heirlooms given to her by her father upon her acceptance to the Sith Academy on Korriban YAELLIA IVROS

A BRAVE AND HONORABLE SITH WARRIOR, Lady Yaellia – just Yaellia, to her friends – is the only child and heir of the noble Imperial House Ivros, which was founded by a freed slave and therefore has some...unorthodox views of Imperial policy. The family history which was instilled in Yaellia from a young age granted her a sense of cooperation and fairness unheard of in many other members of the Sith hierarchy. Unfortunately, this has not made her or her family popular among their peers. House Ivros is under constant threat from its many enemies, and before Yaellia was ten years old she’d already survived numerous attempts on her life.

When Yaellia was accepted into the Korriban Academy, she became determined to uplift her family at any cost, barring the sacrifice of her principles. Though these principles successfully prevented the poisoning of her entire dorm suite by a rival class, they also nearly got her Force-choked to death by one of her teachers; she was only saved by the timely intervention of Lord Alanais Venditor, and has looked up to him ever since. Though he wanted to mentor her, Darth Baras made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.

Being chosen as Darth Baras’s apprentice was the highest honor she or her family could have ever hoped for. Even though she loathes him personally, her personal opinions don’t matter next to her family’s status and safety. Accordingly, she has set out aboard the ship he gave her, a Fury-class Interceptor she has dubbed Zhasanai’s Grace, to do as little of his dark bidding as she can get away with. Rumors of her involvement with the Revanite cult remain unsubstantiated.

Likes: Honor, mercy, preserving historical sites, loyalty, animals Dislikes: Cruelty, collateral damage, dishonesty, eye contact

AS A COMPANION

Selection lines:

“My sabers are yours.”

“Can I help you?”

“Leave it to me.”

“It is an honor to fight by your side.”

Battle lines:

“I am your end!”

“For the Empire!”

“Come, face me!”

Exiting battle:

“I didn’t even break a sweat.”

“What a shame. What a waste.”

“They died well.”

“Where’s our next target?”

KO’ed/Low health:

“A little help?!”

“Ah...I’ve miscalculated...”

“Can’t...breathe...!”

“I don’t like bleeding my own blood.”

Resurrected:

“That was a fluke.”

“Time to reenter the fray!”

“One day I will die, but not this day. Thanks to you.”

Misc. click lines:

“Are you quite alright?”

“Remind me to catch up on my reading.”

(on Dromund Kaas or other wet planets) “Ahh, the scent of home!...lake water and rotting vegetation. Lovely.”

“The Empire cannot rise to greatness on the backs of slaves.”

“Oh! Did I tell you about the holocron I found the other day?”

“Take a holo, it lasts longer.”

Gifts:

Cultural Artifacts, Imperial Memorabilia [favorite]: “This is wonderful! Thank you, I’ll treasure it.”

Courting, Luxury, Delicacy [love]: “Oh, you’re terribly kind to think of me.”

Military Gear, Weapon, Republic Memorabilia [like]: “Thank you.”

Underworld Good, Technology, Maintenance [indifferent]: “...I...thank you. Truly.”

[ryin-silverfish]

I feel most modern adaptations don't capture Erlang Shen's wild side. In a way that's fair. He's been a very mainstream and high-ranked god for so long that to use modern lingo, he can be comfortably labeled as an "establishment sell-out". So many people have an image of him as a pure law-and-order guy, for better and for worse. I'm not going to talk about the "official" Daoist identities for him because they do their best to make him seem respectable by linking him with official sponsored waterworks projects or other forms of government-condoned activity -- I just want to talk about the folk perception, because that's the guy everyone except Daoist fundamentalists are worshiping. In early myths and myth-derived entertainment, especially stories about his youth, Erlang is very wild and rebellious. He spends all day hunting with his hound and hawk and laughs away the idea of taking orders from Heaven. He was fostered or at least aided by his aunt, Queen Mother of the West, giving him essentially a protector as he ran roughshod around China, splitting mountains to save his mother and sealing suns under mountains he carried over his shoulders. His retinue consisted of "exotic" foreigners -- golden-headed slaves Guo Yaji and Sayikun who held his blade and cared for his hound. His foot soldiers were 草头神/Wild Gods. He led the Chinese equivalent of the Wild Hunt, flushing demons out of mountains. His name was mentioned alongside the God of Death 阎罗 and the Lord of Ages 太岁 in Water Margin as a fierce god suitable for an outlaw to imitate. All in all, he reads like an upper class delinquent, someone both inside and outside of the established social order. Most modern portrayals of Erlang don't have this ambiguity.

Ohhh, I happened to read a Chinese paper that talked about the exact thing...well, maybe not the exact thing, but it is about the remaking of Erlang's image in Yuan-Ming era operas and vernacular novels!

Erlang in Pre-Song era sources, when he was not yet Li Bing's son and just an ambiguous mix of Li Bing, Lord of Sichuan + God of Guankou, was not very humanized. Like, sure, he was a regional guardian and a slayer of dragon, but there were pretty much no description of his looks or personality.

When Zhao Erlang first appeared, his image shifted into that of a martial general, but everyone's favorite "Handsome Second Lad" was mostly a creation of Yuan-Ming Zaju plays and novels.

And the paper compared and contrast the Erlang of Zaju plays and novels: in the former ones, exemplified by plays like "Erlang Drunkenly Shot the Demon-locking Mirror", he was kind of a hothead, and prone to impulsive decisions.

In JTTW and FSYY, however, he was a lot more calm, humble, and cunning, though JTTW paid homage to his pride and "rebellious hermit god" status more than FSYY, in which Yang Jian is a lot more quiet, polite and strategically-minded.

The paper argues that the Yuan-Ming plays and novels signified the shift of Erlang's image from a purely martial general to the "Confucian General" (儒将) archetype, someone who possessed both scholarly and martial virtues.

Similarly, this shift also made him a lot more closely connected with the imperial court, both celestial and mortal, and played up his loyalty + filial piety.

Now that I finished info-dumping about this really neat paper: yep, I'm not the biggest fan of "Erlang as the upholder of Celestial Justice" either, even though his more "lawful" portrayals had some basis in Qing novels like 八仙得道传 as well as Liaozhai (the short story, Xi Fangping, has him acting as a Baogong-like figure to this guy who had been wronged by corrupt Underworld officials.)

What I feel like modern adaptations + perceptions tend to overlook, however, is his "Regional Guardian" status. Someone intimately connected to the land and people of Sichuan, whether it is the wilderness of its mountains, or the irrigation projects that tamed the rivers, or the opera plays and fine wines of the Country of Heaven——天府之国.

Like, in JTTW, when SWK impersonated him and sat inside his temples, he received your average prayers for blessings and fortunes, but also requests as mundane as asking for a son or a cure to their sickness.

(While I was watching JTTW '86 adaptation of that scene on Bilibili——which was amazing and hilarious, people were like "This is what Erlang does all day?" and jokingly calling him "Erlang Community Clinic" in the scrolling comments.)

To me, he is a guy who may be too prideful for the heavens, but never considers himself too good for mortals. A true son of Shu who'd find the choice laughably easy, if he was ever asked to pick between "Upholder of Heavenly Laws" and "Lord of Sichuan".

Which is why portrayals of him as this Blood Knight-esque "Hound of Heaven" irk me, a lot.

[blodgmonster]

Assassin's Blade reread commentary that no one asked for. Though my ACOTAR reread posts were mildly successful.

-- some people say NOT to start with Assassin's Balde, and yeah, it's not how I started when I read the series for the first time but...whatever?

The Assassin and the Pirate Lord

-- oh, God. She's SIXTEEN. She's a BABY.

-- Celaena getting a whiff of a breeze from Terrasen as she's prepping to free a bunch of slaves. Nice poetic touch.

-- Celaena and Sam freeing slaves and kicking Rolf's ass. We love to see it.

The Assassin and the Healer

-- so Yrene is really pronounced Irene? Wild. Though I shouldn't get started on the pronounations. Manon? Adarlan? Ashryver? I've been pronouncing them all wrong and have a hard time mentally correcting them. I'm attached to my mispronouncations by now.

-- Yrene has "absolutely ordinary brown hair". I thought she had rich, curly hair that was brown and golden??

-- Celaena's self-defense lesson is great. I want her to teach me. "Do NOT let them move you to another loaction."

-- "Celaena...prayed that somehow, years from now, Yrene Towers would return to this continent, and maybe, just maybe, heal their shattered world a bit." Prayer answered, babe

The Assassin and the Desert

-- I wish I had Celaena's confidence, swagger, and beauty.

-- "She was Celaena Sardothien, gods be dammed." Celaena seems to think like that often, sort of repeating her name. Is that, perhaps, because she is trying SO hard to forget her true name?

-- Ruhnn Mountains...Ruhn Danaan...interesting.

-- my inner horse girl LOVES the Asterion horses, which are clearly modeled after my beloved Arabians.

-- "Where do men find it in themselves to do such monstrous things? How do they find it acceptable?" GOOD QUESTION, ANSEL

-- The Master having her study animals is cool as hell.

-- it's kind of cool that Celaena is a stone cold bad ass AND a girly girl who loves shopping and make up and clothes.

-- "Oh, how vain can you BE?" Ansel is low key hilarious even as she tries to kill Celaena.

-- our first look at that bitch, gloriella

The Assassin and the Underworld

--God, Arobynn is such an ASS

-- Hello, Lysandra!!!

-- Celaena's suit is cool as hell. Very Black Widow.

-- Hello, Dorian and Chaol!

-- "Take my body home to Terrasen, Sam." AAAAHHHHH!!!

-- Sam and Celaena are so cute and good together. Chaol could never.

--Arobynn tricking her into aiding a slaver...God, I fucking hate him.

-- noooo, don't sell Kasida to that slaver bitch

-- and then he used her money to buy Lysandra's virginity. SCUM OF THE EARTH.

The Assassin and the Empire. Here we go....

-- the lavender soap....

-- oh, Sam...you poor, poor boy.

-- "Reality opened wide and swallowed her whole. She didn't move from the bed...She hated the world for continuing on." Oh, Celaena. Oh, hon. I've felt that way before.

-- Arobynn setting her up like this. This motherfucker.

-- "Arobynn STILL hadn't rescued her?" Babygirl, he PUT YOU IN THERE.

-- God...having to face the KING on top of all of this. The man who terrified her as a child, who destroyed her family, her home, and her life. God, imagine if he'd taken a closer look at her eyes. Would he have recognized her for who she was?

-- The white stag. THE LORD OF THE NORTH. Come to her in her darkest hour.

-- the breeze of Terrasen giving her the courage to stand. "She would go into Endovier. Go into Hell. And she would not crumble." THAT'S MY GIRL.

-- "My name is Celaena Sardothien...and I will not be afraid." * incoherent screaming *

[thewitcheslibrary]

Erlik - mythology and information

Erlik, Erlig, Erlik Khan, Erleg or Yerleg (Hungarian mythology comparable to Ördög) is the deity of death and the underworld, also known as Tamag (hell) in Turkic mythology. Er (or yer) refers to Earth, the depths in which Erlik resides. Erlik summons death, plague, and bad spirits from the underworld to torture humanity and transport their souls to his domain. Tengrism is not founded on a written corpus, but rather on the spiritual experiences of Turkic people, hence there are no universally accepted doctrines among Turkic people. Erlik has previously been referenced in the Orkhon texts and has a persistent role as the lord of the underworld in Turkic belief systems.

Mythology-

In Turkic mythology, Erlik had a role in the genesis of humanity. He slew the messenger-god, Maidere/Maydere, and is a sin-teacher. He is sometimes symbolised by a totemic bear. Erlik was the deity of evil and darkness in Turkic mythology, as well as the king of the underworld and the judge of the dead. Erlik is Ülgen's sibling; both were formed from Kayra (Tengere Kayra Khan). He wants to be equal to Ulgen, so he creates his own land. He was imprisoned in the 9th stratum of the earth and grew antagonistic to the top world, the realm of light. According to the Khakas, Erlik lives in the lowest underworld, in a copper mansion with gold furnishings.

According to Altai folklore, Erlik created the spirits (İye) while still in heaven. When Erlik claimed divinity for himself, he was driven out and descended to earth along with his spirits. Another Altai tale holds that God (Tengri) gave Erlik a hammer and an anvil, but took away his power when Erlik used them to create evil.

According to another mythology, reported by Vasily Radlov, God commanded the first person to plunge into the primordial seas and retrieve a handful of dirt from the sea's bottom. However, the first person wanted to hide some dirt so that he might eventually establish his own planet. But the earth in his mouth increased, so he spit it out. Kayra, who created the universe in this tradition, banished the first human from the celestial realm as a kind of punishment and called him Erlik.

In another story, mankind were immortal before the arrival of Erlik. People and animals overpopulated the earth until a crow proposed bringing Death into it. So people summoned Erlik, and death entered. First, everyone knew when they'd die, so they lived in terror until Tengri concealed their date of death.

Erlik's malevolent spirits inflict misfortune, disease, and death among humans. These ghosts are envisioned as Erlik's helpers. Aside from this, his nine sons and daughters support their father's nefarious intentions. Erlik's daughters, in particular, strive to persuade a shaman to alter his mind as he tries to approach Ulgen with their beauty. Erlik causes all forms of disease and demands sacrifices from the people. If they do not sacrifice to him, he collects the dead remains of those he has slain and transports them to this lower realm, where he makes them his slaves. As a result, when illness strikes, people become afraid of Erlik and make numerous animal sacrifices to him, particularly in the Altai Mountains.

In shaman prayers, Erlik is characterised as a creature with a pig's face and teeth and a human body. Aside from his face, he is an elderly man with a well-built physique, dark eyes, brows, and moustache. According to the Dolgans, Erlik led Mammoths to the underworld. When they attempt to return to the surface, they freeze to death as punishment.

The dinosaur Erlikosaurus is named after him.

[divineerdrick]

Adepticon Reveals for March 21, 2024

I've almost recovered from COVID, so I'm going to actually watch the livestream for Adepticon and catch the reveals! Whoot!

Before we start, let's try and make some predictions. First, the easy one. We're probably going to get the reveal for Age of Sigmar 4th Edition, though they'll probably just call it the next edition. Everyone's calling this one, since we're currently wrapping up this edition's narrative campaign and GW seems determined to keep to their 3 year cycles. It's practically a gimme.

We know we're only getting teasers for Heresy and Necromunda, so I don't have much to say there. For 40K, we're probably going to see something Chaos. I'm not exactly sure where we are on the roadmap, but that teaser definitely feels like Chaos. I don't think they'll reveal our mystery Codex just yet, but I'm ready to be wrong there.

For Warcry I'm guessing we'll be getting a new box announced. Same for Kill Team, though I don't think we've seen all the previously announced boxes released yet. I'm betting we'll see something similar for Old World, since they seem to be bringing armies back a box at a time. They've been talking green skins, so maybe they'll show us a full box set for them.

For Underworlds I'm going to go a bit further. They'd mentioned new ways to play some older war bands, so I'm guessing they'll be announcing some new rules or expansions to breathe some life into older Underworlds sets.

With those predictions pinned for me to suffer or celebrate, on to the show!

IMMORTALITY IS A CURSE

That's the heading we're beginning the show with. Okay then!

Just Lewis today, then? Okay! Hello, Lewis! What you got for us?

Okay! So they're going to have various presenters talking to people to do the reveals. That's new! Let's see how it works out.

Yep. Those are some spikey boys.

Dread Talons! Oh hey! We've got the Chaos Lord with Jump Pack back! Definitely some new sculpts there. After the show, I'll go through the articles and take a look at what exactly is new.

We got Nick and Simon for this part of the reveal! They definitely look like they're ready to have some fun! Oh! And we've got both Stu and Josh today!

Oh wow! We're getting two new CSM battle forces! Interesting!

Mentioning Vashtorr, I hope he gets a bit of a glow up. I really like him, and it would be nice if he got rules that make him feel like he the Lord of the Soul Forges.

They're announcing eight detachments for CSM. Couldn't let the slaves of the corpse emperor have all the detachment fun! This is definitely going to be a sticking point considering Tau players just got their hands on their codex and it only has four. While I'd prefer fewer, more well balanced detachments, the way GW has been dishing them out to each faction is kinda weird. I'm expecting to hear some grumblings about this.

Okay, so they're trying to go for kind of an interview style feel to this presentation. But it's feeling very scripted. Like . . . really scripted. WarCom's purpose has always been to be the hype train for GW. But even with the obvious restrictions on how they'd interact with chat, there still felt like there was a little bit of genuine interaction. This feels very phony to me. Not sure I like this new way of doing presentations.

And, of course, they're suggesting all the CSM fans should run out to grab both boxes. I'm curious how this will turn out. On the one hand, this will allow someone still collecting their army to pick the box they think will serve them best. On the other, that's even more FOMO boxes coming out. And again, can't help but note that Tau only got Kroot in their box, so Tau players that wanted to actually play Tau didn't get served very well. But CSM is getting quite the spread it seems.

Wow! Even the way that cut off felt abrupt and forced. Geh. Really not liking this so far . . .

So apparently that's not it for 40K. They really want all the 40K fans to stick through the entire show and maybe find something they like from the other systems. For now, it's time to visit the Mortal Realms. Don't think it's AoS yet, but let's see what we get.

It's Warcry! And it's a new boxed set! Looks like an Osiarch warband verses an Idoneth warband! Those are gonna be some interesting miniatures! Of course we already saw those new hounds teased.

Just Nick and John this time.

Oh! I was wrong! Looks like it's Sylvaneth, not Idoneth. I got a more Idoneth feel, but these look like they're both oddballs for their factions. The Osiarch warbands are exiles. And the Sylvaneth have been infected in some way.

Warcry isn't going to smaller box sets yet it seems. This boxset will contain both warbands and the terrain.

Oh! Moving right on to Underworlds it seems! Let's see what's up!

Underworlds often gets the craziest warbands. We've got a Death warband, and I think a Chaos warband? It's honestly hard to tell, they've got kind of a torture asylum kinda vibe to them.

So this is our new box and season. Oh well. Maybe there will be more, but it was a swing for the fences prediction.

So our Death warband is Flesheater courts. The delusion for this band is that they're all gourmet chefs getting ingredients for their lavish banquets. Yum!

The Brotherhood of the Bolt are crazy flagellants that have at some point been struck by lightning. And so they believe they've been chosen by Sigmar! Like I said, Underworld warbands are fantastic.

Now we're back to get a little bit more build up for the full AoS reveal. What could it be?

Oh! Getting teased by some Chaos boys! This dude looks badass!

Looks like Cities of Sigmar verses Slaves to Darkness.

Oh! Dudette! Abraxia, Spear of the Everchosen! Really awesome model with some really cool lore behind her.

From here, we're moving on to the next chapter of the Dawnbringers. I'm not caught up on this lore, so I can't comment much here. As I keep watching and listening though, I can't help but be reminded of how well the AoS lore has developed. I really loved my read of the Dominion book and of Morathi. There just isn't enough space in my life for both setting and systems to receive equal attention.

Teaser time!

Dune. Arrakis. Desert Planet.

Oo! Something Mechanicum this way comes!

The little post teaser chat has me thinking this is Mars and that we might be doing something with the war there. It would be nice to get a campaign for the Martian Schism with rules for both Mechanicum and Dark Mechanicum forces.

And now Dwarves! Looks like they'll be getting our next Old World box set! Dwarf players rejoice! Most of these are looking like older sculpts still, though I think that one champion might be new.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's a new Dwarven champion. And he looks awesome! We're also getting a new Dwarf King that can be fielded either on Shield Bearers or on foot.

Oh! I see GSC!

Yes! I'm finally getting my GSC kill team! And they'll be up against an all new Votann Kill Team! Unfortunately, it doesn't look like my Kill Team is all new miniatures, as we've got part of the Broodcoven here. I was kinda hoping for something more bespoke. It's not like we've got a large variety of units.

Votann, on the other hand, definitely needs new units. So I'm glad they're getting some much needed love. These are Hernkyn Jagers, and are part of the advance forces for the Leagues.

Rotlock Negotiation! Heh!

"Anyone else want to negotiate?" "Wh-wh-where did he learn to negotiate like that?" "I wonder . . ."

Oh! It's specifically a Brood Brother Kill Team! Veteran Brood Brothers! Very nice! Looks like it is at least a little bespoke!

And I think this is our Necromunda teaser. Hah! Well that was quick!

Alright! Time for that "just one more thing."

Got quite the badass taking on some Tzangors! Oof! Really intense depiction of how harrowing being a Stormcast must actually be!

Woah!

That's one way for the Skaven to begin their assault! Bloody 'ell!

And yeah, they're just calling it New AoS, the New Edition. We can count guys! You realize we're only up to 4, right? There are Orks that can count to 4!

Alright! We're going to get into rules here! It sound like we're getting a full, proper Edition change along the lines of 40K 2nd to 3rd, 7th to 8th, or 9th to 10th. Wonder if they're going to try what they did for 10th and give us some free rules.

"Opening up the game to more players than ever."

. . .

Guys. You realize that AoS was already the simpler system, right? How much more simple are you going to go? I'm okay with streamlining, but you can go too far. There are parts with 10th Edition 40k where I feel you slimmed down too much. While I do think there is potential fat to trim in AoS, there's some things they slimmed down in 10th I don't want to see happen here. For example, I don't want to see AoS go to a 10th Edition style Enhancement system. They went to lean with that system, and I hope they expand it in future editions. Kitting out your heroes is an integral part of any fantasy setting. You can't do that if you've only got three Enhancements for your entire army!

He's literally using the same language Stu used for 10th Edition. I'm all but waiting for him to say "Simplified, not simple."

But! One thing I think AoS could use, is something like Combat Patrol. If they took the Vanguards and made them standalone buy and play armies, that would be good! I'm hoping that's more how they're planning to get newer players in, not by greatly "streamlining" the game.

D'oh! Combat range is gone. I know one AoS fan in particular that's not going to be happy about that. That was such an elegant way to do different size weapons without Rank and File. Oh boy, this is turning into my anti-hype . . .

Oh! Here we go! Spearhead looks to be the AoS version of Combat Patrol. There's the claim from 10th, that it will be the most balanced game. We saw how well that worked . . . I'm trying not to be down since this is still good. But I hate hearing the same marketing hype that we already saw fail to play out.

We're getting more USRs, so that's definitely good. I'm a big fan there!

Okay, there's another one they claimed for 10th that I please, please, PLEASE want them to actually have followed through on! Stu had talked about how in 10th they tried to make it so that when you look at unit, you know roughly what to expect from that. But 10th just has no consistency as to how strong or tough weapons or models are. I'm really hoping that when Ben says they lined models up and tried to assign stats to them, they really actually did it.

Okay! They're doing free rules at launch. That definitely helps things!

And with that, that's the end of our reveals. And we're back to that banner, "Immortality is a Curse." Which is incidentally, one of the reasons why corporations suck!

Final Thoughts

Okay, my initial plan is that I was going to go through the reveal show, and then take a closer look at miniatures. But I think I'm going to make that a Part 2, since I'm seriously running out of gas. The 4E reveal really didn't help.

What is it with fantasy settings and fourth editions?

I'm trying not to be to anti-hyped by this. There were cool things in this reveal show. Let me TL;DR my sticking points.

I don't like this new style of presentation. It's too staged and controlled and there's no opportunity to get more information or clarifications live.

Two FOMO boxes for CSM is maybe too much. On the one hand, I like the idea of having more purchase options. On the other, I can't help but feel this is them seeing if they can sell more big boxes.

Eight Detachments for Chaos. Fluffy, and puts them on par with the divergent Space Marine chapters, but also makes anyone who got five, or even only four detachments feel even poorer.

They're selling the Broodcoven again! Did they just make way too many of these? Chances are if you play GSC, you've already got this. It greatly reduces the value on this box set. I hope we can get those Veteran Brood Brothers by themselves.

All those selling points for 4E are the same ones we got for 10th. And they really failed to deliver on them. That doesn't mean they won't succeed with AoS. But taking weapon ranges away is a bad start.

Other than that, those were some great reveals with great miniatures! Abraxia looks absolutely sick! We've got Mechanicum teasers for Horus Heresy! Dwarves are one of my favorite classic Warhammer armies! And the new warbands for Warcry and Underworlds are all awesome!

I hope we get real livestreams back. I hope those boxes are just what CSM players needed. I hope they do more with the detachments in the future to bring more balance and parity. I hope I can get those Veteran Brood Brothers sooner rather than later. And I dearly hope that all my fears for Age of Sigmar 4th aren't justified.

I'm gonna try and catch the livestream for Grinding Gear Games tomorrow, so I'm gonna go to bed for now. I'll try to spend some time drinking in the cool minis sometime this weekend.