#YOU WERE STILL HUNTED AND WORSHIPED AND MADE DIVINE AGAINST YOUR WILL

[star--nymph]

this is the same image

[captaincaptainjill]

Little Hunter - Nil x Reader

Summary: Silver moonlight bathed his tanned skin, highlighting scars, old and new. Cold colors were reflected in his gray eyes, revealing hidden thoughts that were usually concealed behind a stoic mask.  His image was divine. You yearned to run your fingers along his body and caress his soul. To worship him. To love him.

Warnings: smut, mention of blood, fingering, oral (reader receiving)

Word count: 4.5k+

AN: I caught another brainrot. Sadly there is not a lot of Nil x Reader content out there. I decided to crosspost this here and over on AO3

It can also be read as Nil x Aloy with a bit of canon divergence if you like.

Little Hunter

His hands were warm. Calloused fingertips gently caressed the exposed skin on your stomach. Your shirt had been deliberately pushed up by him in search of more body contact, not that you mind. It was Nil after all. 

The two of you were currently snuggled up together on a blanket placed on a remote hilltop somewhere in the Sundom, hidden away from any prying eye. Both your armor and weapons set aside but still within reach. Above you was the clear sky filled with a thousand shining stars, the silent witnesses of the secret, nightly meeting. The crickets with their song kept you company as well. 

He had himself propped up against a smooth rock and you were seated between his legs, back resting against his firm chest. From this position you had an excellent view of the night sky. Strong arms wrapped around you and legs tangled he held you close. You could feel his steady heartbeat and breathing. Peaceful and comforting. 

One of your hands was on his knee and you were absentmindedly brushing your thumb in a circular pattern across his joint, which was exposed due to the cut of his pants. You noticed a small scar there to which your touch constantly returned. Just like you were magically drawn towards him. Despite his questionable morale and motives. 

Nil pressed a kiss to your temple. A loving gesture you cherished greatly. His short beard tickled on your skin and you grinned. Basking in his attention you felt your muscles and mind relaxing. A content sigh escaped your lips. It seemed paradoxical how you were at home in the embrace of an apex predator like Nil. But to you he was a good man. You knew him and accepted him. Just like he accepted you. 

Your thoughts wandered back to the first time you met the Carja warrior. A fateful day as you recalled. 

You were out on a bounty hunt. Some bandit leader had set up camp with his friends in the vicinity of a village and threatened the locals with raids and violence. Something you couldn't let happen. 

You had been successful with the stealthy approach. All bandits were slaughtered and the leader left at the tip of your spear for a final confrontation. That was when he appeared. The Carja with the red-feathered headpiece. He had watched your infiltration in awe, hidden away in the same shadows that had shrouded you before. Waiting for the right time to make a move. Given the delicate nature of the situation you weren't too happy about his interference. 

While he tried to trick you into leaving the bounty to him the bandit leader saw his chance to escape. But you were quicker. Bloodied spear now pointed at the newcomer. You glared at him as you took in his presence. The eye-catching red feathers, garments made of luxurious fabrics and equipped with white machine parts. He introduced himself as Nil. His gray eyes were stone cold and calculating. But you saw something beneath the ice. A bright flame of obsession with death bordering on madness. Sharp and dangerous like the tip of an arrow.

Expressing his admiration for your ability to kill he then retreated. Leaving the bounty to you. 

“We'll meet again, little hunter.” Those were his last words to you. And you hoped he was speaking the truth, because as brief as the interaction was, it left you shaking with excitement.

Weeks later the incident was still on your mind. You couldn't forget Nil. The mysterious and handsome stranger. He lived in your head and bothered you endlessly, especially during lonely nights, forcing you to take shameful action in order to relieve the boiling tension in your core.

You were fully aware that he had simply tested you back then. And you knew that your reaction impressed him. After all, you were not some two-bit mercenary. You were a skilled hunter driven by determination. And you wouldn't ever allow some fool to steal your price. Only that Nil wasn't a fool. Nil was an equally skilled killer. You learned more about him a bit later when you collected the bounty. And those stories you heard only made it harder not to think about him.

A stirring brought you back to reality. Nil had noticed your gaze drifting from the stars to the past. 

“What's on your mind, little hunter?” he asked in a low voice, accompanied by a hint of concern. For all his confidence in his skills he always seemed a little worried about you regretting choosing him as a partner. A vulnerable reaction that rooted deep within his complex history and was reserved for your presence only. You valued his authenticity. However, it pained you to see him worried. 

You turned your head to look at him. And as you guessed there was a slight veil of sadness over his gray eyes. 

“I was just remembering how we met. And that I couldn't get you out of my head ever since,” you said and smiled at him earnestly. “You left a lasting impression.”

He chuckled lightly. “Is that so?”

“Of course. You tried to steal my bounty. On one hand you blew me away with your audacity. And on the other you intrigued me. I had my fair share of fools trying to steal my kills. But you were the first who could have actually pulled it off.”

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. He himself held the memory of your first encounter dear because he fell in love there. But that was something he wouldn't openly admit, of course.

“Are you calling me a fool?”

“Perhaps?”

He showed his signature crooked grin, lips askew and canine bared. Then without warning he bowed forward to kiss you. Despite the suddenness of his approach and the awkward angle the kiss was tender. You practically melted against his sweet lips. As he retreated, far too soon for your taste, he smiled at your dumbfounded expression. 

“Who's the fool now?” Nil laughed. 

“I have always been a fool for you,” you admitted truthfully, eyes beaming up at him with love. 

You never grew tired of giving him the reassurance he needed, in any way you deemed fitting. Though he never explicitly asked for it. That wouldn't be like him. 

You knew about his hurtful past. And were fully aware of what he did during the wars he fought in, and afterwards. It was something he had been very open about with you. Also about his time at Sunstone Rock. You didn't care what he had done. But knowing it helped you to understand him better.

You turned around to kneel before him and he loosened his embrace, hands now resting on your thighs. Thumbs moving slightly to caress your legs. Every touch mirrored part of his profession. Preciseness, purpose and passion.

With the moon illuminating the scene you were able to see more of him than usual. Nil wasn't wearing his fancy red-feathered headpiece nor his vest. Although his armor never covered him up completely, it hid so much of him. Seeing him now partly undressed and somewhat bare for your eye felt incredibly intimate. A gorgeous sight meant to be savored. Because it never lasted too long. 

The short black hair you were so fond of was still tousled from earlier when you had swept both hands through the soft strands as you greeted him with a deep kiss. The untamed look suited him. Though it probably didn't harmonize with his otherwise stark nature. 

Your affectionate gaze wandered unhindered and soon you caught yourself staring at his chest. The nobel silver light bathed his tanned skin, highlighting scars, old and new. Cold colors were reflected in his gray eyes, revealing hidden thoughts that were usually concealed behind a stoic mask. 

His image was divine. You yearned to run your fingers along his body and caress his soul. To worship him. To love him. 

Drinking in the epiphany of his magnificence your heart ached. A dull tugging towards him. Undeniable affinity. 

“You are beautiful, Nil,” you whispered as if scared that someone unworthy might hear your tender prayer to this forbidden god. “I could get lost in the maze of your eyes forever. I could spend an eternity mapping out the constellations on your skin and it wouldn't be enough to honor them all with due diligence.”

He didn't respond. At least not verbally. His hands twitched ever so slightly, fingers noticeably pressing into the fabric of your pants and digging into the meat of your thighs. And there it was. The opaque glimmer in his eyes. Thirst. A call for blood. His demons were wide awake. And they were hungry. At this moment they were hungry for you. Selfishly you decided to meet them halfway. 

With the patience of a hunter, you slowly reached out so as not to startle him. You ran your hands up his arms, feeling the firm muscles, hardened by numerous battles. When you reached his neck, he lowered his head. Not out of shyness, but out of vulnerable abandon. Nil couldn't think of anyone he would ever surrender to except you. For mutual respect weighed heavily.

You cupped his face, urging him tenderly to look at you, admiring the cute freckles sprinkled across his nose. Carefully you caressed the Carja markings under his eye. The circles reminded you of mournful teardrops. You felt compassion even though it was completely inappropriate. Still your gaze softened. And you wondered if he ever shed any tears thinking of the home he left behind to pursue his calling. His path of deliberate violence and bloodshed primordially doomed his life to be spent in solitude. Condemned to walk the world in lonesomeness, only accompanied by his desire to kill, the whirring sound of the bowstring being released and perhaps a short-lived beneficial partnership for hunting purposes at most, but never anything so pure as love. And yet here you were. Two souls lost in a spiral of taking other people's lives. Two relentless hunters driven by individual causes. Unwaveringly united by a common understanding for one's reasons. 

An unfocussed thought grazed the edge of your mind. A fading vision of a possible future of how things might end. The only picture you could imagine was a blood-red, blazing sunset. However, that didn't scare you. If anything, you accepted it as fate, because it was only natural.

He noticed the slight change in your face. And perhaps he had read your mind. But Nil would never mistake you for prey. On the contrary, he saw you as an equal. Both of you were highly skilled with bow and spear. Focused, deadly precision. But deep down you suspected he also saw you as competition. That fact represented a dormant threat of which you were well aware, but you would not fight it. Because that would mean going against the laws of nature, and you wouldn't do that.

“I admire your strength, the way you hold your bow, how you never waver. In every fight we stand side by side I consider myself blessed.” Your voice was filled with honest adoration.

You could feel his smile against your hands. And you could see his demons smile through his eyes. Pride may be a sin but he wore it like a crooked crown draped on his head held high.

“I've never met anyone quite like you before. Our time together means everything to me. Be it in battle or in tranquility.” You took a deep breath. “I need you, Nil.”

Your confession of love dripped from your mouth like blood from a spear. Thick and truthful because blood never lies. And Nil carefully collected every drop before it could fall to the floor and seep into the sand, nurturing the flame burning in his soul. 

“Then you shall have me. I am here, little hunter. And I will not leave, for I too need you. As a wound needs an arrow, hungry for death,” he declared his consent.

Nil looked at you waiting curiously for your next move. Hands still on his face, you got up on your knees and bowed forwards. Your lips collided in an intense kiss driven by passion. The same fierceness demonstrated when hunting man or machine was undeniably present in the way you showed your love for each other.

Fingers of one hand tangled in his hair and the other placed on his upper arm you pecked the corner of his mouth. As you moved down his neck you felt the pulsing of his blood rushing through his carotid artery against your lips. The sensation clouded your mind for a moment. A rush of primal instinct and desire made you sink your teeth into the junktion between his neck and shoulder. Not hard enough to break the skin but with the right amount of pressure to leave a red mark.

Nil hissed, slightly startled, grabbing your hips by reflex.

“Easy, little hunter, or you'll get in trouble,” he warned in a dark tone and squeezed your flesh to emphasize the seriousness of his threat.

With an apologetic hum you licked and kissed the place you violated. Only to bite down again. His body jerked and you felt him twitch in his pants beneath you. Sheepishly you grinned against his neck, as he cursed.

Nose pressed behind his ear you inhaled his scent. Dark as an arrow shaft made from ridge-wood, heavy as burned metal and sweet as freshly drawn blood. Intoxicating. It enveloped you and your senses, made you irrepressibly greedy for him.

You kissed a path down his strong chest and didn't miss the chance to run your teeth over his tanned skin. You pawed him through his pants and he grew harder when you sucked on a sensitive nipple. His head fell backwards and he sighed, visibly enjoying your affectionate care.

He allowed you to move your lips down to the hem of his pants, but when you reached for the buckle keeping them in place, he stopped you with a gentle tugging on your shoulders. Naturally, he loved being spoiled by you. But tonight his demons were especially hungry and therefore impatient. He couldn't wait to devour you in order to satisfy them. Part of you wanted to defy him. To tease him until he snapped. However, that was not what neither of you two needed tonight. And so you yielded.

He removed your shirt, baring your chest to his gaze. The night was warm and yet you were shivering a little. Maybe his cold eyes were to blame, or maybe the demons lurking behind them. It didn't matter, considering what would come to you next.

Nil softly guided you backwards until you were sprawled out for him on the blanket. His eyes glimmered, admiring the exquisite meal he was about to indulge in. But still, he was a hunter following a strict moral code, and out of respect for you, it was more than appropriate to abide by the rules.

“Do you trust me, little hunter?”

A strange question, coming from him. Trust was rare to find in these lands nowadays. The wounds of the Red Raids had barely healed and new threats were constantly emerging from beneath the sand or behind deceptively genuine smiles. But you did. After everything, he never gave you any reason not to.

“Yes.” You nodded convinced.

“How much?”

“I'd let you burn me alive.”

“Do you want to proceed?”

“Yes!”

Another accepting nod from you and Nil smiled, pleased with your decision. And so you handed him the reins. 

You had danced with him before. Not only on the battlefields of various bandit camps. But also in secrecy. Well aware that your bond, carefully woven from blood and splintered bones, would never be accepted by the Carja. But that couldn't stop your feelings for him. Destiny has forged a connection between your fates. Stronger than traditions and social standards. 

Nil took his sweet time, momentarily repressing the powerful urging from his instincts to go down on you immediately. His sadistic tendencies wouldn't allow you a quick release. And he wanted to relish in his victory.

His hands explored your exposed torso, scorching your skin with more intensity than the Carja sun ever did. His fingers left burning paths in their wake, covering you in boiling heat.

Along the way he mapped out all the markings he could find. He would never consider them imperfections of your body for they told your moving story. A scar on your side from where the arrow of a bandit sharpshooter ripped into your flesh caught his attention. Nil remembered the day you got it. It was from the first bandit camp you slaughtered together as a team. How you wailed in pain as blood seeped through your clothes. He also remembered how you patched yourself up afterwards. And how he almost tore the stitches open again as he vigorously pounded into you, forcing you to cry out a second time that day.

He paused to grope at your chest, twisting the hardening buds between two fingers. You moaned and your hips bucked upwards. He clicked his tongue at your impatience. On the battlefield he would never torture his opponent, but here and now other rules applied.

Nil brought his mouth to your shoulder. Maybe you should have stopped him, maybe you didn't want to, but you knew his intention. Without hesitation his sharp teeth breached your delicate skin, cruelly repaying you for marking him. You cried out in pain, while a potent spark shot down into your core, fuelling the desire. He groaned at the coppery taste of your tender blood, hard erection pushing against your stomach. It sickened you to see both of your reactions.

His tongue quickly lapped up the bit of red pooling out of the bitemark. He whispered a small apology against the wound and sealed it with a soft kiss.

“You're mine, little hunter.” Nil reminded you. “Do not forget that.” A testimony highlighting the dominant side of his nature.

“I would never!”

Finally he pulled down your pants and gained unrestricted access to what he desired most.

“All of this for me?” he commented as he saw your prominent arousal.

Nil didn't waste another second, he spread your legs to make room for his body and leaned down.

The moment his lips touched you, you gasped. He groaned at the wetness of your sex. This was his doing and knowing he had such a strong effect on you made him proud.

He flicked his tongue out to collect your essence. Like an epicurean, he sampled your flavor and declared your nectar divine. Since the first time your taste had become his favorite and he constantly craved it, almost as much as he craved the killing.

He put his mouth back on you and began to devour you. He licked, sucked and kissed your sensitive area, eliciting the sweetest sounds from your throat. His short beard tickled and his finger dug into your thighs, spreading them even further. Instinctively you grabbed his hair, urging him to continue with his heavenly work on your dripping arousal. You tugged harshly and he groaned against you, the pleasant vibration rumbled through your core.

“Nil, please,” you moaned, “don't stop.”

He took this as encouragement. One hand stayed on your leg and the other found its path to your entrance. He teasingly circled your needy and neglected hole. His twisted nature seeped through the cracks of his shell as he pushed the digit in. Agonizingly slow he worked his way in. You clenched around the intrusion, hoping he would do more soon, knowing you craved more, needed more.

But again he took his time. Knuckle-deep inside you he stilled all of his movements. Lips hovering above your sex, his breath fanned over your need, causing you to shiver.

“Please, please. please,” you cried out in frustration. How could he deny you what you needed most? It appeared as if he had all his sadism reserved for poor little you.

“Perhaps you need a lesson in patience?” he mused mockingly.

The coldhearted grin he shot you from down between your legs twisted your gut around.

“Nil, I beg you.”

You felt no shame in pleading, but you weren't sure you would be able to appeal to his leniency.

The hand still resting in his hair tried to tug him towards your heated middle, but he didn't budge. He withstood like a behemoth being pushed by a watcher. Unimpressed and mildly annoyed.

“Have I wronged you somehow? Why do you need to torture me?” You grew more desperate with every passing second.

Nil shrugged. It was hard to buy his indifference.

“Allow me this sublime moment and I promise you won't regret it. Beg, little hunter.”

You cursed rudely. Also because he slightly curled his finger inside you, underlining his deal. In his eyes it was a fair offer. What a mockery.

“Nil, please, I beg you. I need you like my arrows need a target. Please fuck me,” you whinered pathetically.

Surprisingly, he took pity on you rather quickly. But that was probably due to the increasingly strong tension in his loins. Not even Nil had this much self-control.

He began to pump his finger inside you and gradually increased the speed, while his mouth also returned to your weeping arousal. A string of curses left you. Sparks of electricity spread along your spine, igniting a wildfire destined to dissolve you.

He added a second finger. They curled into that sweet spot and you could have sworn your heart skipped a beat. Waves of heat rushed through you, smoldering in your veins.

The wet sounds of his mouth on you were obscene. Combined with your pathetic moans, the soundscape was on par with a brothel like the ones found in the dark and seedy back alleys of Meridian.

Nil added another digit to spread you open for him. You welcomed the sharp stinging and your hips bucked like a raging strider. Greedily you accepted what he gave you. With every touch he stained you further, spilling his corruption into your system like HADES corrupted this world's machines. His deft fingers worked expertly to bring you pleasure.

“Nil!” His name repeatedly fell from your lips like a prayer. Music to his ears.

Much to your own surprise you used your grip in his black hair to pry his face from your middle.

“I need you inside, please. Take pleasure from me too.”

He didn't need to be told twice. How he had not yet gone insane without touching himself was beyond you. His pants were the last piece of clothing added to the pile next to the blanket. He sighed as his hard cock was freed from the constricting fabric. And after all this preparation Nil finally entered you.

It could be compared to being run over by a trampler. A strong push accompanied by a burning and painful sensation, forcing the air out of your lungs. You clawed at his back in dire search for anything to hold onto as he split you in two. He soothingly kissed your crown, whispering sweet praises, while he waited for you to adjust to his size. Soon the pain turned into pleasure and your breathing steadied.

His gray eyes searched for yours, seeking permission. You gave him a small nod, only then he began to move. Nil started out slow, with long, drawn-out thrusts. Relishing in the tightness and warmth of your welcoming cavern.

When he established a steady rhythm, you moved your hips to meet his. Stirring him to speed up. He drove into you with vigor, hitting the same spot that had you scream his name, again and again, with his signature precision. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and his breathing became labored. His deep grunts mingled with your moans. Skin slapped against skin. Shamefully primal.

Nil reached between your bodies and began to stroke you. Calloused fingers playing you like an instrument. A tingling sensation slithered down your shaking legs. Toes curling upwards.

It didn't take long for the pressure to reach its peak. An intense, hot white pleasure exploded behind your eyes and the bowstring in your core snapped. An arrow pierced through your heart, unleashing an avalanche. Tingling waves of searing fire poured over you. And you cried out as it drowned you.

He dutifully steered you through your orgasm, drawing out your high until it tilted from joyful to harsh. But he kept going. It became almost unbearable, fire and ice colliding, your body shook and withered beneath him.

Overstimulated you wanted to push him away. However, your desire to protest died when his gray eyes met yours. The maniacal look resembled the one he had when killing. It bared so much familiarity. And maybe because of that you chose to endure.

You should have known he wouldn't show mercy. Not tonight. Not after freeing his demons. There was nothing left for you but surrender to the feeling. You were tainted before but he made sure to spoil you for anyone who might come after him. Ruined you so no one else would ever be enough for you. No one but him.

With one final thrust and a guttural moan he stilled. Nil spent his hot seed inside you, painting your walls bone white. It was almost enough to send you over the edge again.

He caressed your face in delicate devotion. His tenderness felt a little foreign now, just after he had been rough and merciless before.

“You were so good for me,” he praised, while trying to catch his breath. “Thank you, little hunter.”

Your heart still pounded furiously. The sound of your blood rushing in your ears, the echo of the intense high, left you speechless. However, there was no need for more words now.

He pulled out and you hissed at the loss. He took a moment to admire the mess he made of you, seeing his cum dripping from your entrance onto the blanket.

Exhausted Nil laid down next to you. He held his arms open and you followed his invitation to curl up with him. He hugged you tight. You savored your lover's embrace and sighed content.

Above you the stars twinkled in the dark night sky. Heat rose to your cheeks as you realized that the moon had witnessed this forbidden and filthy union. But the silvery light still surrounded you both without judgment. It helped to ease your mind.

Weariness tugged at your consciousness and gently guided you away from the scene. You allowed it to happen and yawned heartily. Only half awake you nestled deeper into his arms, drawn in by his warmth and steady heartbeat.

Nil had his gaze fixed on the glittering firmament, hands lazily drawing patterns on your still heated skin. He and his demons were sated, at least for the moment.

“I love you too, little hunter,” he whispered, careful not to wake you up again. “You will be the death of me. But by the sun, it will be a glorious one.”

[loveackermannn]

Omg omg omggg!,

When I saw your vamp Levi fic i geeked lmao

But I did some research and found out that vampires have mates…like one for the rest of their lives🥺.

So i was wondering if you can do headcanons about vamp Levi x vamp reader and them just being that one old married couple lol, also mates can feed off of each other instead of hunting which is wayyyyy more powerful since there’s love involved

Sorry lol I’m being a nerd

a/n; my lovely anon! don't apologize for this ask, i loved reading every bit of it. thank you for indulging more vamp!levi into my brain and for the extra info! it'll really help me capture these headcanons better. anyways, i hope you enjoy <;3 im such a whore for vamp!levi ugh he's so hot okay bye

warnings; suggestive content! (17+ audience please !!) levi and reader feeding off each other YWBWHAJHWR (they're both switches btw :0) + mentions of blood

---

im gonna go with the scenario in which both of you are vamps, destined to be mates for all eternity. now one would think that it's a hell of a long time to be committed to one person, but when it comes to a lover like levi – he NEVER gets tired of you, as the same with you. he practically worships the ground you walk on, the air in which you exist with him. he just can't get enough of you.

by that, it was from the start that sparked what you two are now. "love at first sight" was a stupid idea that levi couldn't even bring himself to come to terms with when he first met you upon the forest. but he quickly realized that he felt like a love sick teenager again. the way you could just be existing in his presence and he'd still feel like he's falling in love all over again.

as time passed and humans continued to grow old, you and levi were stuck in your own little world with nothing else being of importance except the exchange of love and passion towards one another.

every kiss felt needier, every touch felt exhilarating, every breath felt warmer to the point where you couldn't tell if it was levi's or yours. all that mattered was that in this moment, he was yours as you were his.

levi began his intimate ministrations from your temple to your cheek to your jaw and down to your exposed and sensitive neck. your soft skin welcomed his lips with every kiss that he could manage, savoring you, worshipping you – he felt honored to be able to have the rest of his days spent with you.

lips continuing to suck and nip at your now marked neck, levi took the time to gently graze the points of his fangs and upon doing this, the reaction you gave him was just where he wanted you– breathless, speechless.

you looked absolutely divine to him and he couldn't wait to savor the rest of what he still had to get to. but for now, he wanted to specifically take his time on your neck – you knew what was to happen next and your body anticipating his touch, jerked slightly in his hold. upon noticing this, he grips you tighter and his hot breath tickles the lobe of your ear.

"you're so fucking perfect mon amour. think you could stay still for me yeah? if anything gets too much, you know our safe word. ill stop immediately, promise."

you nod against him, smiling as your fingers meet the side of his face and he pecks your cheek in return. you trusted levi with your whole life, he'd never forgive himself if ever you got hurt, let alone get hurt because of him.

he started slow, letting you get used to the feel of his fangs dancing up along the side of your neck. and as time went on, you were craving for him to finally sink his teeth into you with just the right amount of pressure.

and with that, 2 holes punctured into you, leaving you a whimpering and mewling mess in levi's arms. levi groaned into you, eyes practically rolling back at your taste in disbelief. god he could be here with you forever, in every universe.

he made sure to keep his eyes on you, gauging any discomfort from your reactions, but from what he could see – you were thoroughly enjoying this just as he is. with your head completely thrown back in pleasure, the sight alone could make him faint right then and there, but he keeps it together.

as it all comes to an end, levi pulls away to relieve any sort of tension in your neck as he soothes the holes with a kiss and leaving no waste of what you had just offered to him.

nothing was said for some time, not that there needed to be anyway. panting and short breaths were the only thing that was coherent from your semi-dried lips. from this, levi knew you needed a few minutes to regain your composure.

slicking back your disheveled hair with a gentle caress of his hand, he smiles at you as if you were the purest gem in the world – you were his treasure.

pressing a kiss to your forehead, he asks quietly as to not suddenly startle you from your peaceful trance, "i wasn't too rough on you was i? does anything hurt?"

you shake your head, looking back at him with an expression that reassured him further. but what surprised him, was the fact that you were quick in continuing from where you two had left off.

the stamina of vampires. he should've known.

and soon, a reverse of cards had him melting like putty in your hands as your face crept up slowly from his chest to his ear.

"it's my turn now. you'll be good for me right levi?"

[mouisorange]

Dona Lunae | Yandere Artemis x gn.reader

Warning | Religious themes (Greek Mythos); reader being very against worship; dead animals (not overly explicit); mentions of hunting; implied drugging; vague injury; yandere behavior.

Word Count | 2.5k

Being raised in a city ruled over by a major deity taught you many things; first and foremost being that gods are unbearably suffocating without even needing to be present. You’d learned this well as someone who’d grown tired of hearing the same undeserved praises sung over and over again; as someone who had seen the kind of horror that attracting their sweet attention cost anyone even vaguely involved. Against what you were brought up believing, you couldn’t bring yourself to worship such selfish, petty things, made out of who-knows-what, solely because they’re divine or because someone told you to.  

Though, it wasn’t as if you had any genuine disdain for them; but there was such a thing as living for yourself without the overwhelming dependence of worship and adoration, as well as protecting yourself from eternal punishment for so much as blinking offensively. Not that you’d ever be comfortable enough with someone to voice your opinions—especially not with delusional worshippers; people of the city often did not show just how deeply they love their darling patrons until it’s too late to change the topic of discussion. You’d been in tense situations where you practically had to drag yourself away from the conservation, lest you have to pretend to worship whatever deity they were waxing praises to. It was tiring. You wanted to be able to live without looking to the sky and seeing a golden statue of some ‘all-knowing and all-powerful’ being beyond your care; without having to force a smile and nod along as friends and strangers alike wistfully recall prayers and offerings to gods that likely wouldn’t bat an eye to them. 

So you left, with no warning to friends, if you could really still refer to any of them as ‘friend’ with how you’d allowed your annoyance to fully fester. The city was filled with overwhelming social expectations, surely the country would be less intense, calm—calmer than the bustle of stone forests, anyways. 

And it was, for a time. Sure, there was the occasional casual praises and wishes for good things from gods who weren’t listening, but it was easily ignored—you were easily ignored; you were considered a stranger to the countryside of Greece, but a familiar face to yourself and the path you walked daily. Just as it should be. You did find comfort in the fact that strangers were easy to talk to; easy, brief comments on the weather, or on something barely worth mentioning in any other situation. It was comfortable—more comfortable than you had ever hoped to be in the city. 

So, when you came across dancing nymphs worshipping the goddess of trees, you kept your head down and moved along. It wasn’t your business, and if you ignored them, they’d hopefully ignore you in kind. 

You ignored the blunted remains of fires, and the distant singing of beautiful voices; praying that their song was loud enough to cover your walk home.

You used the vegetables left at your door, ignoring the way they’d been neatly placed in a silver basket that looked too expensive to have been left for someone of your upbringing. The exact ones you usually cooked with, even a few that you loved but consistently struggled to find. You went out of your way to thank your distant neighbors for the gifts they couldn’t have possibly known you’d want to use, ignoring the way they respond with confusion and deny involvement—you assume that they were being humble, with the quality of what was left for you to find, after-all, this is the country. Perhaps lying about gift-giving was seen as being humble? Having been raised in the city all your life, it was hard to tell; and so easy to brush off strange customs. 

You used the meat left behind, skinning the old buck left to pool blood in the grass of your yard. Despite the voice whispering to let it rot in some ditch nearby, you pushed your nerves down, excusing the acceptance of the gift with not wanting to waste the poor thing’s life. The silver arrow nestled within it’s chest went ignored, and you threw it aside and did your best to pretend it had never been there to begin with. 

The songs of wooden women with petals blooming from their hair grew louder, nearer, as the gifts continued to show up, morning after morning. It was difficult to ignore the idea that you’d perhaps attracted the attention of something, but you still pushed it away—there was nothing worth noticing, and you tried to convince yourself that you were simply being arrogant. So arrogant, that you continued to try and ignore the way moonlight seemed to last a bit longer every morning, and spat out any paranoia that tried to dig its’ claws into you. It was just your mind playing tricks, your subconscious finding new ways to torment you in it’s apparent boredom from the lack of frenzied cultists. 

It wasn’t until you were awoken by reflective light, that you had the thought to confront the being that had decided to visit nightly. The bed groaned and the floorboards gently whined as you stood to leave your bedroom, the air cool against your bare feet. Careful to walk lightly, you reached for the door to your yard when a chill halted your movements, despite the warmth of the summer night. Instead, you shifted to reach behind your curtains—unlocking the window and carefully lifting it barely an inch—curiosity begging you to hear your mystery hunter’s voice. Rather than a deep voice, you were met with silence, aside from a nearly inaudible drip. Moonlight cooed and beckoned you to look; your nervousness was pushed aside in favor of peering just around the corner of the window.

Your lungs halted at the sight, surprise holding them tightly—

—she was utterly mesmerizing, silver glinting as if she had weapons made of the moon itself. The girl seemed young to have brought the various game that recolored your grass red every morning, the impressive bow settled by her side spoke otherwise. The point of the bow gently grazed the wet ground, and suddenly your chest felt as deep as the bloody ground was red—the blood from the animal she carried seeped into the short tunic she wore, the fabric thirsting for more to soak in. The girl moved and red followed, the darkness of it luminated by the glow she seemed to radiate. Your legs felt heavy on the cold flooring of your dark home. Though your mind urged you to leave the sight, to hide under the warm covers of your bed and hope for sunlight, your limbs refused to do more than lightly shake in place. 

Was this really the truth? Were you dreaming, perhaps already back in bed? A young girl was really responsible for the nightly, fresh kills on your lawn? 

The answer to your questions cut through your skull as another woman walked into view, a bow resting in her hand. She wore branches in her hair, and flowers seemed at home against her cheeks—a nymph, you realized, and too late did the realization of who had been leaving dead gifts for you come. You almost hissed at the thought, thinking yourself too prideful—despite knowing very well such an insult was a lie—a goddess? Leaving things for you? 

But the answer was the truth, and it was difficult to run from a truth standing right in front of you. One that had been right in front of you for weeks. Had hopeful dreaming allowed you to ignore the way worship of the tree goddess seemed to follow you around? How the songs seemed to grow longer, closer with every moon that came and went? 

You did what you could to begin to build the courage to run away, to turn your taut muscles from ice to hot anger. The heat simmered back into fear at every thought you tried to form against the goddess, and the weight of confusion did nothing but soothe any ember formed—smothering it before it could spark into even a candle light. 

You couldn’t hear what the nymph was saying, though you could see her lips move. The assumed goddess laid down the animal, and kneeled there, seemingly listening—or considering something? What, you couldn’t tell—and her lips moved in response, light gestures flowing from her words. The older woman made no such gesture, and turned to leave as she’d come in, and you just then noticed the other women—of whom you assumed were also nymphs—standing behind the tree-line. 

If seeing so many armed women in one place unsettled you, watching the goddess stand and match your gaze sent your soul straight to hades itself. 

Though exactly how you ended up sprinting through the wildest parts of the woods—bare feet surely collecting cuts, thorns, and dirt—still abandoned your thoughts. One moment you were watching a goddess smile at you, take steps towards you, and the next moment was greeted by the warm night air outside the back door of your home. Perhaps it was unwise to run from a hunter goddess, especially when you were wearing only your nightwear and the goddess chasing you was fully prepared to follow her prey until it gave in to exhaustion. But it hadn’t been a clear thought, and unfortunately for you, that also meant unclear actions—and your running turned into rolling, not feeling your legs turned into searing hot pain. You looked for an arrow only to see a damaged tree root, tugged further out of the ground by your frantic escape. The desire to stay low and hoping they overlooked your place in the ditch was near irresistible, even more-so as you wondered if you would even be able to walk on your aching foot. 

You covered your mouth to hide your breath and hoped for the best—that sunlight would come and you would wake up to birds singing. 

But birds often sing no matter the time, chirps decorating the wind just the same as fading moonlight decorated her weapon. The goddess waved off the women you hadn’t seen with bows drawn, and they disappeared back into the trees, the mix of greens in the dark too similar to tell if they had actually left. She smiled down at you, again, and crouched down to step into the ditch you had face-planted into.

“It seems I’ve frightened you, ελαφάκι(1).” speaking softly, she ran her hand down your bare leg, barely ghosted over your injury. If flinching away from her offended her in any way, she didn’t put in any effort to show it. She called out to someone, though your head was spinning a little too hard to know if she had called a command or a name. Before you could wiggled away from her, a pretty nymph with dripping wet hair appeared by your side and began to work on your lower leg. 

“There was no reason to flee from me, I have no intent to harm you.” The goddess distracted you from the cool water dripping from the woman to your wound—it helped that it soothed the pain. She leaned towards you, a warm hand cupped your jaw and turned your gaze fully towards her. “Though, it seems to have saved me an introduction, I’ve never seen you run from kind strangers before.”

She seemed to wait for you to speak, and though you knew very well that gods were not patient, you were not sure if you could speak at that moment. 

You tried to catch your breath, and think about how you could escape without inciting the wrath of a deity—”You’re the goddess of the hunt… ” Your words hung in the air, settling on your tongue like hot tar. 

“I am.” She confirmed, eyes lidded, seemingly with disappointment in your answer, “Do you not know me by name? I was sure you were from my brother’s city, do his people not speak of me?” 

“They do.” You were quick to reply, your throat hissing at every syllable. 

“Then will you not address me by such?” Although the way she held your head up was much softer than you’d ever been held before, the slight shift in grip was more than enough of a warning.

You swallowed the hot tar, and let confusion meld with it as it sank into your chest, “Lady Artemis, why…” The words did not want to leave the safety of your teeth, but you forced it out anyway, “Why have you chased me? Surely I am not worthy enough for the attention of a goddess, much less so a great olympian.”

You hoped the lie would be able to stand against her sharp senses, truth being you couldn’t care less how worthy you were or weren’t. You just want to be left alone, to wake up with the morning birds as your only company, to be able to forget the existence of anything else—

“Oh, γλυκό ελαφάκι(2), who has told you so?” Her hold on your chin tightened, nails threatening to leave marks, “Your worth is for me to decide, and I have decided that it is quite πολύτιμος(3). Do you need further convincing, or do you understand?” 

You doubted it was a genuine question, especially with your jaw feeling like it could snap at any moment between her fingers. Her face was still soft, lips curled as she inspected your face, and your attention shifted from sweet escape to simply surviving the encounter with the goddess. 

If you lived, you would do whatever it took to hide from every deity that could ever possibly exist— and so, with a scrambled plan, you whimpered, pain leaking into your words, ”I understand, Lady Artemis.”

The goddess’ grip loosened and returned to softly caressing your jaw, your throat, gestures too affectionate to bring you anything but dread. She smiled in a way that could almost be playful if she hadn’t just almost shattered your jawbone. “There’s no need to use titles with me, ελαφάκι. Do you think you can walk better than you ran from me?” 

You paused, and glanced towards your foot—which had droplets of water slowly running down it, the nymph who’d been tending to the injury was long forgotten in the conversation with her. If you ever saw the blue-eyed nymph again, you’d have to thank her, even if she was only helping because her patron asked her to.

The ache was completely gone, though the tension remained. She was good at whatever she’d done, “...I think I can.” 

Your own hesitation in speaking only caused your muscles to tense more, anxiety winding them tightly, hoping your response was what she wanted to hear. 

Artemis smiled, clearly amused, as if you’d missed some joke. “Πόσο χαριτωμένο(4). you needn’t worry, I wasn’t planning on allowing you to walk this time.” 

You weren’t given time to get confused, as you felt a small sting against your neck. Your hand flew to the spot, bringing it to your face only to be met with a small amount of purple-tinted blood smeared across your palm. Ringing slowly replaced the birds in the early morning light, and you realized she would have come regardless of which light illuminated the sky; a warm kiss was pressed against your brow, and your vision blurred the soft colors of the forest into a dark, dreamless sleep.

1. Means Fawn in Greek, via google translate.  2. Means Sweet Fawn in Greek, via google translate. 3. Means Precious in Greek, via google translate. 4. Means How cute in Greek, via google translate.

﹝☼﹞

[thefirstknife]

Help, I ran Garden of Salvation with some clan mates and i'm Experiencing Great Sadness about the Kentarch 3 again.

I haven't been following you since shadowkeep, and was wondering if you had some theories about what happened, because a lot is left unexplained, specifically about Lisbon-13's motivations. The story from Yardarm-4's perspective shows that something is influencing them before they accept power (stasis teaser?) from the darkness. Do you think they really had a choice? Do you think he was influenced in his decision to kill them? If so, why? As a test just for him? Presumably he's still out there somewhere, and I can't tell from the lorebooks whether Rekkana let him kill her first or not. I just feel so bad for them, they all loved each other. Yardarm probably took the power in the first place to help get them out safely. Do you think it'll ever get concluded? The whole lore series seems interestingly close to what happens with Shayura, just sort of in reverse.

Kentarch 3 fireteam and the whole story on the Garden of Salvation armour and the associated weapons and equipment is amazing and very interesting, I agree. I haven't talked about it before but it's a good thing to revisit every so often! I think there's still a lot we don't really understand, mostly due to not fully understanding the power of the Black Garden.

In short for the general audience, Kentarch 3 was a fireteam that consisted of Yardarm-4 (Titan), Rekkana (Warlock) and Lisbon-13 (Hunter). They went to explore the Black Garden at the behest of the Warlock order called the Cryptochrons which Rekkana was a part of. This order got exiled some time after Osiris for dabbling in prophecies. Cryptochrons were formed around a Oneiromantic Circle and led by a Sibyl (or multiple sibyls; or Sibyl was just a name of one member, it's unclear). Oneiromancy is the practice of interpreting dreams to predict the future and sibyls were ancient Greek female prophets and oracles.

I didn't think this would get long but it did so the rest under the cut:

The Cryptochron order continued operating after its exile and Rekkana received a prophecy from them that revolved around a fireteam learning about the Black Garden and retrieving from it a Vex relic of some sort. The relic is the exotic weapon Divinity and the lore tab on it details the prophecy they were chasing:

"And after any other Cryptochrons they learn of. But your path is more dangerous than most. The Circle has foreseen many fireteams following in your footsteps. You can find the knowledge the order seeks at the Tree."

"Can? Not will?" For the first time, Rekkana sounded concerned.

"The Circle has had limited success in piercing the veil that surrounds the Black Garden, so the order offers no certainties. They say that a group of Guardians will discover secrets about the origin of the Black Garden at the Tree. The Oneiromantic Circle foresees no reason why it will not be the Kentarch 3."

"Nor can I. But…?"

"There is another thread in the tapestry, entwined with this one. The Vex, or some fractal faction of them, worship or honor a… divinity there."

"The Black Heart? It was destroyed."

"Yes, but this is something different. An object. Something like a sacred relic. It is important to the Vex for reasons that we have not yet fathomed. The Circle has determined that it is dangerous—"

"A Vex weapon?"

"Perhaps," the Sybil sounded annoyed at the interruption. "Rekkana, the Circle concluded that it is a danger to you."

"To me? But then, why send me on this mission?"

"When the Circle dreamed of the object, you were beside it."

They agreed that, should they find this object, Lisbon should be the one to carry it. They did find it and he was indeed the one to carry it, as is shown later in another lore tab detailed below.

We know that Lisbon-13 killed the rest of his fireteam because they got corrupted by the Black Garden, something happened to their Ghosts (they all just dropped down and started losing their Light) and then turned on him. He was being hunted and he really had no choice. But he couldn't live with it. In Beyond Light, he's shown trying to kill his Ghost in order to stay permanently dead because he couldn't bear the burden of what he did to his fireteam, even though his actions were justified and he acted in self-defence.

But before he managed to do that, he was faced with his own doppleganger, just like the YW at the end of Shadowkeep. In the end, Lisbon didn't kill his Ghost because the doppleganger offered him power and Lisbon (presumably) chose to take it: his wish was simply to make himself forget about his fireteam (and Rekkana specifically, whom he loved). It's implied that he accepted and after that, we have no formal information what happened.

The outcome of what happened to Kentarch 3 is somewhat known, as detailed in this ship lore. The Vanguard knows Lisbon killed the other two, they're not sure when they lost their Ghosts and they have not found anyone's body, not even Lisbon's. But we know from the lore that came out after that Lisbon accepted the deal with his doppleganger and we have no idea what that entailed. Is he still in the Black Garden? Was he killed? Replaced? Just memory-wiped and sent back? Something else entirely? We'll explore at the end.

I'm pretty sure the voices they heard talking to them were also their own dopplegangers. And it's somewhat implied that they made some sort of a bargain and accepted "new powers" that came "from the wrong side." There's only one description of it:

Her fist glimmered and quaked with an unfamiliar power. She only had to release her grip, and that energy would rip through him, burning without fire.

That's Rekkana attacking Lisbon. It's never fully explained what it is, but it could very well be some sort of prototype Stasis in my opinion. Or some other Darkness power. Not sure why the Black Garden would give them this, which is why I think they simply harnessed the power of their dopplegangers. This is something that's been mentioned a few times in regards to Darkness: duplication. Same is present with the Taken as well (Taken psions duplicate). I mentioned the duplication theme being discussed in Clovis' journal before too.

Honestly, I can't make any definitive conclusion, but Kentarch 3 definitely found something horrifying in the Black Garden and fell to its influence. They also reference doing the puzzles to get Divinity, which they got and Lisbon used it to kill the other two.

Garden of Salvation raid ends with a Pyramid scale opening up and leading us down into the area with the Darkness statue. I think this could've easily been some sort of a lead into the future of Destiny and the powers of Darkness. Kentarch 3 may have accidentally received this power early on or were perhaps some sort of a test the Darkness did on Guardians before offering them Stasis for real.

It's an interesting story and yep, it does mirror Shayura's fireteam and how the story is told! Each member of the fireteam tells the same story from their own POV on armour for that class. I'll link all of them in order, roughly how I think it's best to read each POV:

Rekkana: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 Yardarm-4: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 Lisbon-13: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

I like how the armour follows the same name pattern: Righteousness, Exaltation, Transcendence, Ascendancy and Temptation.

Associated Garden of Salvation weapons also have some tidbits of lore that might help, namely:

Ancient Gospel Hand Cannon:

"These forces have existed forever, but only one of them speaks to us." —Rekkana, Warlock of the Kentarch 3

Sacred Provenance Pulse Rifle:

"These gifts were not made for us, but we were meant to have them." —Rekkana, Warlock of the Kentarch 3

Zealot's Reward Fusion Rifle:

"Why not use these gifts we've been given?" —Yardarm-4, Titan of the Kentarch 3

I would really like to learn more about them, and specifically Lisbon because he might be able to actually tell us what happened. He or his Ghost, Piri, who managed to survive last we've seen her. I think the Ghost might be able to give the most accurate version of events. It's interesting that Lisbon was very much against whatever power they received and that was the reason he abandoned his fireteam, which made the other two consider him a traitor to their friendship.

Very intriguing lore story that could possibly be mentioned again in some form. Also as a brighter note, yes, Yardarm literally flew into the Black Garden with an entire ship and crash landed inside. On a less brighter note, we've never seen the remains of a ship in there (to be fair, Black Garden is huge) and it's somewhat implied that they entered through the Vex Gate on Mars which puts the timeline of when they got there into question. The Vex Gate on Mars that led into the Black Garden was destroyed in the Red War. The new gate showed up on the Moon in Shadowkeep (and you can't fly a ship into it because it's in a cave).

An additional note which answers certain things when it comes to Lisbon's fate that I hinted at before: in order to acquire the quest for Divinity, you have to go to the Moon to the Vex Gate for the first time. The gate will open up and a Vex mind will come out. This giant Vex minotaur is called Zeteon, Redemptive Mind. Upon killing this minotaur, you receive "Divine Fragmentation" quest. Details of the quest here. You pick up a Vex core that has strange readings coming from it and you have to decipher it by running it through various Vex technology. Once fully completed, you have to go into Garden of Salvation, do the Divinity puzzles and the weapon will drop from the extra chest at the end.

Why am I mentioning this? Well. Zeteon, Redemptive Mind drops a core that contains information about how to get Divinity. Lisbon was the member of the fireteam that held Divinity and used it to kill his fireteam. There's a quote from Lisbon on the weapon called Accrued Redemption:

"I should never have let it come to this. Now each arrow is a penance." —Lisbon-13, Hunter of the Kentarch 3

Divinity's perks are called Judgement and Penance.

Basically, I believe that whatever deal Lisbon accepted that made him forget his fireteam, free him from the suffering and redeem him ended with him being converted into Zeteon, Redemptive Mind. It's the reason why this Vex in particular had the pieces needed to construct Divinity again. Lisbon was the last person who had it. Becoming the bearer of parts needed for Divinity was both his Judgement and his Penance.

Final note because I love ancient languages being used for the names of things in Destiny: "Zeteon" most likely comes from Greek "zeteo" which means:

to seek, search after, look for

to inquire into, examine, consider

to strive for, desire, wish

Probably tied to Lisbon's search and desire for redemption for what he's done. I think that wraps up his fate quite nicely, although tragically.

[creepymagickshop]

Jesus Christ son of God the Most High, in His wisdom everlasting knew that the ears of the satanists could not hear Him or understand anything to which He spoke. 

To those of you who have ears let you hear! This means only those with the intelligence to understand could hear the wisdom He was about to impart. It is a simple concept, one that morons like the fakers and bitches cannot contend with. 

God has always called them fakers, bitches, bird brain morons, this is not a new concept either, found right there in the Holy Books written by Gods own. Only Christs handpicked elites understand this concept as well. 

This message is only for Gods Soldiers, the elite, who have been moving in unity against the darkness. I solute you! 

My previous message was written with a promise to dismantle further the lies of the enemy by showing you the purposeful unhealth and hatred of the very men who have set themselves above you as preachers of Jesus. I spit on them. 

Who ordains preachers and teachers of JEHOVAH? 

Only God does that. 

That means that they, who are ordained, actually hear JEHOVAH speak to them and teach them so that they can impart the wisdom that a REAL God has to impart. A REAL God makes sense. A REAL GOD does not talk in silly circles, He actually goes somewhere with His messages. 

Anyone who ordained themselves or got the nod from the ‘good ol boys club’, anyone who ignores the Bible and makes up their own version, anyone who has been preaching for years and still misquotes and misidentifies the very nature of God is nothing but a satanist who is pretending. Straight from Gods mouth to your ears. 

You as human beings do not get to pick and chose the messengers of God. What kind of arrogance is that? Jumping from one church to another seeing what group you feel resonates with you? That is the way of the devil. You have been taught the devils ways. It’s time to hold accountable all those fake teachers of JEHOVAH and toss them into the abyss where they belong, with the bitch-tards. 

Now lets talk about retards shall we? What is someone who is mentally handicapped from incest? A child of incest will have certain mental capabilities taken from them because of the actions of their parents. This isn’t contested, we have science who in their lagging behind the Holy Book, like usual, have finally found that out, within the last 250 years or so have drawn the correct conclusion that incest is bad, physically and mentally. Hand clap for the scientists! 

Christians, REAL ones, not the ones spoken about above, already knew this. HOW? What does this have to do with God loving people who are called ”gay”? I use that word with unfailing sarcasm. 

Once again reading out of context has stripped those retards bare for all to see.  

Let’s open up the Holy Bible, to thousands of years ago when the Israelites finally left Egypt. The book Exodus chapter one allows you to see within context the relationship that the Pharaoh had with JEHOVAHS people. As you read you will see that things were not only strained but contentious. The term slave within this context can be used whole-heartedly. Now lets jump forward to when God, whos name is JEHOVAH, sends Moses and his brother Aaron to release Gods people from that horrible empire all built on incest, divining of stars and worshiping empty idols. The book of Leviticus, which is the next book in the Holy Bible. 

God starts to teach His people “according to the work of the land of Egypt in which ye have dwelt ye do not, and according to the work of the land of Caanan whither I am bringing you in, ye do not, and in their stautes ye walk not.” Leviticus 18:3 YLT1898

The Israelites were taught a LOT of retarded things by people who knew no God. Incest was one of those things. Reading on, 

“None of you unto any relation of his doth draw near to uncover nakedness; I JEHOVAH.

The nakedness of they father and the nakedness of thy mother thou dost not uncover, she thy mother; thou does not uncover her nakedness.” Leviticus 18: 7 YLT1898

Continuing to read IN CONTEXT, we now understand that this whole chapter is about unclean relations, do not sleep with blood relations so saith your GOD. He also understands the sickness of the people because of who was teaching them so HE made a point to say it is not only about having mentally handicapped children but it also has to do with family relations and the mental health of those people who are hunting the children within their own household. 

Leviticus 18:22 YLT1898

“And with a male thou dost not lie as one lieth with a woman: abomination it.” 

So, you may not sleep with your relations even if no baby will issue from the copulation.  

Everybody understand? 

Good! 

Moving on to the last and final verses that retards have been trying to understand for generations, the book of Romans and Corinthians. Written by Paul hand chosen by Christ and sanctified by JEHOVAH Himself. 

Yeah I said it. 

I stand with Paul and all those who serve GOD alone. There is nothing in the Holy Bible that a REAL Christian need be ashamed of. 

Romans was written to the church in Rome, they were around many fake temples of the Greeks. They worshiped fake gods, slept with their relations, and cheated on their wives and husbands with men and women, saying it wasn’t cheating. Sound like anyone you know? Hello Hollywood. Hello reading in context to the people Paul was writing to. A church with some members who called themselves Christs body and was practicing these unsound doctrines taught by devil worshipers. 

Roman 1:27 YLT1898

“and in like manner also the males having left the natural use of the female, did burn in their longing toward one another; males with males working shame, and the recompense of their error that was fit, in themselves receiving.” 

If you continue to read on to the next letter to Corinth, the book of Corinthians, with the same cultural context in mind, 

1 Corinthians 6:9-10 YLT1898

“have you not known that the unrighteous the reign of God shall not inherit? be not led astray; neither whoremongers [people who prostitute themselves by worshiping false gods and hide it by calling themselves Gods people], not idolaters [who deny God and Christ JESUS loudly], nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor sodomites,

nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, the reign of God shall not inherit.”

Understanding that this book was written in another language, you have to simply look up the actual words used in the original letter written by Paul to know that the word ‘sodomite’ means someone from Sodom and Gomora who were rapping strangers and children. That was an insult to be called that, hello Hollywood. 

The word ‘effeminate’ in context to the language can be take multiple ways, one of which means to be spiritually weak. Even the English language has words that mean opposite things and must be read in context to the rest of the sentences before and after. Critical thinking 101. Such as the word ‘cleave’. Self imposed literature geniuses, hello college.  

These verses are used by satanists who have taken it upon themselves to ordain themselves and like minded roaches to preach and teach at the Holy people of God. If the preacher is a satanist who is misusing the Bible, that place is NOT the temple of JEHOVAH. 

Anyone who has taught a class in such a manner you can account as a satanist. JEHOVAH rebukes them and corrects their behavior. They are not confused about what they are teaching so much as they are not privy to the spiritual matters that the Holy Book imparts. 

They sound like bird brain twits trying to preach the Holy Word of God. 

Your ordained Witch, Preacher, and Prophetess, called and hand picked by JEHOVAH,   

- Penelope Summers

[bitchfitch]

Conall woke to the smell of cinnamon and burning hair. His nose scrunched and his lips curled in a silent snarl he wasn't awake enough to suppress as he sat up in the bed he kept trying to escape. 

His every bone protested as he stood, and his muscles shook, with the aftermath of another full moon spent hunting through the woods like a common beast after being twisted into the shape of one by this stupid fucking curse. He managed to get his feet steady under him as he sought out the absolute bastard that kept dragging him back here. 

Arlo was where he always was, sat in front of the vanity in one of the bedrooms with his fingers combing through his stupidly long hair. He huffed as a greeting, not even bothering to look at Conall as he picked at a few strands and started the work of braiding it all into a manageable length. 

One of these days Conall was going to take a pair of shears to it all. Just to be cruel, just to stoop to Arlo's level.

"Why am I here," Conall demanded, "I left, I told you I had no interest in staying," 

"Yes well you see, I didn't bring you back here," Arlo retorted, "You crawled back all on your own, and collapsed on my doorstep like you do every damm month," 

"You know full well its your stupid curse that keeps brainwashing me back here," Conall stormed up to his side and was step away from grabbing him before that stupid curse twinged and forced any ideas of hurting the stupid unicorn out of his skull with a painful snap, 

"It's not a curse, Its not My curse, and there's nothing to do about it that I Haven't already done," 

"I'm sorry, do you just expect me to believe you have nothing to do with the curse that makes me want to protect you? That turns me into a dog everytime you are at your most powerful? You Truly believe I'm that stupid?"

"I believe you're that stupid, because you can't see that that's the truth, I didn't give you this blessing, I didn't make it. I didn't even know it was still kicking around until I Saved your sister from it," he spat,

"Fucking Explain it then, Explain why you are such a fucking liar," Conall had to swallow down bile as Arlo's hurt bumped up against the stupid curse.

"Im Not A Liar. And it's a long fucking story," Arlo snapped at him, 

"Then get fucking talking," Conall didn't care that he was scraping gouges in the wooden floor as he dragged a chair closer and dropped into it with a heavy huff. 

Arlo rolled his eyes and sneered as he started, his tone that of someone telling a bed time story to a brat they didn't particularly like, "Once upon a time, there was a queen who ruled an expansive and beautiful kingdom. She was perfect, and regal, and swelteringly kind, and most of all she was devoted to making sure her people Thrived no matter the cost.

So, one day, she gathered her kingdoms most powerful sorcerers, calling them each by name as she beheaded them and drained them of every drop of blood they had to give before rending the meat from their bones so that those may be used too.

When she was done she poured it all into her cauldron, and preyed and chanted and sang as she cut her own heart from her chest and dropped it into her brew.

The blood boiled around this offering so willingly and lovingly given, and the magic found her soul and bound it back together as the first of her children rose from the pot with her mounted on his back. 

He was a bull, white like the clouds above and as thick around the middle an entire chariot was wide, with golden hooves and single horn jutting from his forhead as he galloped and pranced with the reborn queen laughing on his back. 

The second was a similarly single horned war horse, white and gold but smaller than the bull that came before him. Still, he was stunning as he joined the joyful parade with blood clinging to his coat. 

The donkey was next, again with one horn growing from the center of his skull like a stake. Short and lean but powerful as he charged along with his brothers and their perfect mother. 

Then the deer burst forth, his single horn forked as he bounded so proudly around the room, leaping and prancing over the ruined remains of their imperfect fathers and other mothers. 

Finally a goat clambered out after them all, bleating and struggling to keep pace with his long legged family. He was the runt, the weakest, made from the dregs of the sorcerers' magic. 

The queen saw her runt and opened her arms to him and carried him on his brother's back. None of her children would ever be forgotten, or allowed to be trampled as long as she was there to protect them.

The family, complete and beautiful and perfect burst from the chamber and into their palace, the joyful cries of the people echoing through the halls at the sight of their reborn queen. They screamed and screamed as they welcomed her children into their court by offering up a feast of a first meal for their hungry mouths. 

The Queen's already prosperous land Flourished as though spring had finally hit after a year of winter. Her beloved and perfect and powerful children served their people with joy in their hearts. No one in the entire land ever went hungry, no field was ever blighted with rot, no wound left un-mended nor was even a single disease allowed to spread. The coffers were full and gold paved the streets, the water of their rivers and lakes ran crystal clear and sweet like honey.

The Perfect Queen and her Perfect children were worshiped by their people, but such beautiful perfection bred vile envy. 

A vile and selfish little human crept into the children's rooms one night. A lasso in one hand and a dagger in the other as it hunted through the corridors, looking for which one it would steal away from its family. 

But oh that silly little thing, weak and stupid as it was. It found the children curled up together with their mother watching over them. 

The Queen cought it before it could even take a single step, her wings beat as she dragged it out the window with her, her claws digging into its soft body threatening to destroy it completely. But in her divine mercy, she lifted it higher and higher and higher, twisting and bending its imperfect shape into something even more grotesque. 

She landed with it held in her arms and she called to her children, who of course always headed their mother's call.  

She laid the creature at their feet and told them that it would protect them now, that it was their pet and that they should look after it, that they should love it so that it would love them. 

That was the first werewolf, it stood guard over their rooms and when others like what it had been came close it would tear into them and spread its gift. They would turn too then, and join it in its guarding. 

Though, the children only ever loved the first of their precious dogs. The rest were too much fun to not play with. So, long as at least one lived, they could do whatever they pleased with the others. So they did. They tore them apart and painted their rooms in their blood and takes their hides with their brains and the children made their mother necklaces and crowns and bracelets and rings and every other little bobble they could from those precious wolves' bones.

The children loved their mother, so of course they wanted to lavish her with every gift they could. She had already given them so much, it was only fair.

The perfect family and their perfect pets weren't allowed to be happy forever though. A man, A king, their mother told the children to call him that, came into their home and soon their mother was heavy with his imperfect children. 

She assured her eldests that this was only a means to an end, that she needed an heir. Someone who would look after her perfect children when she was gone. She told them that while the children the king gave her would never be perfect, she would make them so. Just like she made herself perfect, just like she made all of them perfect, she would make these new lives perfect too.

To prove her devotion to the children born from the blood of her heart instead of the water of her womb, she gave the first of the king's imperfect offspring to them.

Oh how the king sobbed as they ripped it to shreds. Its awful little body not even worth being made into a gift for their mother.

The second was allowed to grow. Their mother would bring him to her perfect children every day and have each of them lay a blessing on him until he too was perfect. 

Only then did they welcome him as a brother. Only then did they begin to follow his orders like they did their mother's.

Oh how foolish those perfect children were.

Death came for their mother one night, her blood stained the long dead king's son's hands. 

Were he anyone else, they would have destroyed him just like they did that first child the king gave their mother. But their own blessings made him immune to their curses and their powerful bodies. Their mothers own blood protected him even when it hadn't protected her.

The Queen's perfect children cried and shrieked their mourning, and refused to lay their gifts on any of the cruel and selfish humans. It was their blood that ran in their littlest and most vile brother's veins, why should they serve any that would dare to share a history with him?

The new King did not have the patience for his perfect siblings. So he stole away their hounds and sent them to war, all but the one they loved, he killed that one in front of them and made them watch as it begged and suffered. 

Then, when they continued to refuse to obey him, he took everything they had. He took their hair and their eyes and their horns, and the skin off of their flesh, then the flesh off of their bones and then he took those too. And he took until there was nothing left and those perfect siblings of his were gone,"

Arlo looked back to his mirror his shoulders tense and his hands shaking with ancient grief, "Then, one day many years later, when the Perfect Queen and her perfect children were only whispered myths, a pair of witches gathered all of their magic and the corpse of their beloved sister. 

They went to the place that the Perfect Queen's castel had once stood and called on the fragments of her children, They pulled the goat, the weakest of his siblings from the aether and begged for him to revive their sister. 

He looked at the humans, and saw only their selfish ways. But he could not return to his rest. No, they held him there and demanded he do what they asked. Said they would never let him go if he didn't. Said they would damn all of his brothers to that horrid… inbetweenness of not being fully alive and not fully dead while being all to aware of it.

So, he looked them in the eye and made them a deal, Their sister's heart would beat and her body would walk again, but they must never attempt to summon his brothers. 

They were stupid, and agreed.

The goat took the dead sister's body as his. Her heart beat, and she walked and talked, but it was him who was in control.

He damned himself to this existence, knowing the witches had no way of killing him, nor did they have a way to summon his brothers while the body was being used. 

Years passed again, now with the goat alone in the palace he had shared with his perfect family. Unable to leave because if he did some other ungrateful and selfish human might try to take from him again. They might not care about destroying the body he wore like the witches did, and if the body was destroyed, the witches might try to summon and damn his brothers. 

So the goat lived in the buried castle and watched the world above through his mirror, and eventually he began talking to the witches, he was so dreadfully lonely that even their vile company held value. 

Other horrid little humans would stumble close sometimes. He'd kill them on sight, Or curse them until their blood boiled in their veins, or he'd give them something that looked like a blessing just so they would lead more to him. It was the only fun he could have without risking his physical body being known. 

But then the witches finally promised the goat a kindness. They told him that the wolves his mother had made for her perfect children still spread their blessings, but that with the unicorns dead and gone they had turned to vile beasts as they desperately searched for their charges. 

The goats heart ached but then it soared when the witches told him that there was one being brought to him.

A little girl, they told him it was, a child so young that if he loved and cared for it it would grow up to love and care for him in return. He remembered the precious wolf he shared with his brothers and Gladly accepted the offer for them to let him care for it.

Offering them a loc of his hair and blood from his veins. He knew how to not be selfish, unlike the humans, he knew that you always offer something in return.

They took what he gave, but when they brought him his pup, she was in the arms of a strange man. 

He collapsed onto his knees and begged for his sister to be cured tears staining his..."

Arlo hesitates, looking at Conall and picking his next words carefully, 

"His face, that the goat had initially found repulsive but no longer minds. The goat was about to kill the awful and pathetic creature, about to take his precious pup to show her to the room the goat had put together just for her. But then the man's words registered.

He wasn't begging, he wasn't asking to take. He was offering everything he had for the goat to save his sister from a perceived suffering. 

And the goat didn't see the witches making cruel demands and threats. He didn’t see that monster of a half brother demanding he and his perfect brothers work for the creature that killed their mother. 

He saw himself, and he saw his perfect brothers, and their mother. He saw his family always looking out and protecting eachother. 

The man asked for the goat to cure his sister of her blessing, and in return he would give everything he could. 

The goat's heart broke. He wanted, truly wanted, to help a human for the first time since his mother's passing. But he couldn't do what the man asked. His mother was far more powerful, and even now centuries after her death and many many generations removed, her blessing still held stronger than the goat could ever hope to be able t overpower. 

So he made the man, the pure and clever human who knew not to take without giving something in return, an offer. 

The goat couldn't destroy the blessing, but if the man could offer up another to take his sister's place, the goat could transfer it to them." 

Arlo looked back to his mirror, where he saw only Conall's reflection, as he finished the last braid, "I think you know the rest," 

A long moment passed as Conall tried to reconcile the story he was just told with the monster- no, the man, he sat across from.

"Were you really going to take care of Asena?" Conall asked, his voice low and quiet, as though speaking too loudly would break the careful peace between them, 

"I was going to raise her as though she were my own. I was so excited to teach her magic, and to give her all the blessings I could... I guess the witches are doing that now though," He leaned forward against the worn wood of his vanity and rested his chin on his folded arms, "I was going to have a family again," he wiped at his eyes before the tears could spill,

"I'm sorry, Conall," he sighed

"Why?" Conall tried not to sound surprised at such a genuine sounding apology,

"I know those weren't the answers you wanted. I know you wanted me to tell you that it had all been a trick and I could just snap my fingers and cure you of my mother's blessing," 

"No, those weren't the answers I wanted but..." Conall didn't know what to say next, so he said nothing and just settled a hand on one of Arlo's thin shoulders. He squeezed it softly as he felt Arlo go rigid under his touch for just a moment before practically melting beneath his palm. 

Conall had the sinking realization that this might very well be the first time anyone has touched Arlo since his entire family was killed. 

Conall had the sinking realization that the same might be true for himself.

"Please," Arlo whimpered burrying his face in the crook of his arm, "Please, I don't want you to feel trapped here, but please stay, I'll offer whatever I can, but Conall please stop leaving me alone here," 

"I..." he tried to swallow down the words before they could damn them both, but he was so much weaker than The Perfect Queen's blessing,

"Of course,"

[bigmeatymudcrabchitins]

A not-so-brief overview of my Skyrim Dova OCs bc i need to scream to the digital void about my ideas

Freyora Lind, more commonly known by her strange alias “Bjorne Icepick”

A Nord-eventually-turned-werewolf who orphaned during the Great War and taken in by a Dunmeri mercenary whose residence was in Windhelm’s Gray Quarter. Grew up in a cramped boarding house setting among desperate mercenaries of varying backgrounds. Many of them would all come and go, but there was always some sort of a familial bond between them all.

From a young age she got in a lot of fights against people who insulted her for living in the Gray Quarter among the dark elves. Eventually she took a fight too far and was jailed for murder around 14, but was broken out shortly after by a band of masked vampires. Turns out some of her mercenary comrades unwittingly caught vampirism during a contract to clear out a vampire den and had to skip town, but not before ensuring one of their own wasn’t left to rot.

Lived in Cyrodil for about 15 years, but returned to Skyrim pursuing rumors surrounding a cure to vampirism, as her adoptive father would be nearing the end of his elven lifespan and had wished to die a normal death.

Seeing as she was literally a fugitive, and her long-belated parents were somewhat renowned for their battlefield prowess, she took on a false identity. AND an act to match it.

She’ll eat raw meat, chase prey with swords instead of using a bow like a normal person, harp about irrational conspiracy theories, and more. Everyone’s foul reactions to her outlandish act are plainly hilarious to her and only encourage her to act even stranger.

The alias “Bjorne Icepick” was simply the most ridiculous name she could think of.

Not the most morally outstanding. Besides drunken brawling, she’ll steal from anyone who angers her, even if it’s things she literally won’t ever need such as all the goblets in a household. It’s the pettiness that counts. “Try drinking your damn high-end wine now, jackass.”

Calls Dwarven Automatons “Gundams.” Including she herself, no one knows what that means.

Joins the Companions out of homesickness and a desire to fill in a gap that leaving home left.

Hasn’t bothered curing herself of lycanthropy because her whole schtick is being incredibly resourceful, and that includes using any means of power necessary. Still doesn’t fancy Hircine’s Hunting Grounds as her desired afterlife, though.

As her journey goes on, however, her lightheartedly eccentric face starts to fall off as a number of events push her to begin to question the legitimacy of her actions up until that point.

Some of which include the eventual death of her adoptive father (and how she was indirectly responsible for it even if it was what he wanted), Delphine’s ultimatum, the civil war as a collective, learning the tragic history behind the Falmer and the original Companions’ role in it, and killing of Vyrthur (no matter how much he genuinely deserved it).

She grows disgusted by herself down to the core. She takes to skooma to cope, and starts to be plagued by serious skooma-induced side effects. She ends up shutting herself away from all her responsibilities and distancing herself from her friends.

Does she get better? Maybe. I haven’t thought up anything past this point lol

Moureneris Alta

A very, VERY ancient vampiric snow elf, (though it’s notable she was born a considerable amount of time after the razing of Sarthaal)

Survived many atrocities. Stayed in isolation with a band of vampires for countless years out of sheer disgust for the nature of the sapient races. (I’ll explain her full story some other time. It’s pretty complicated)

She was abducted from her isolated lifestyle by a certain person i’ll talk about later. She managed to free herself south of Skyrim, and uh, walks right into that Imperial ambush. The rest is history.

Super ignorant to modern society as a result of centuries of isolation. Exploited for comedic relief. (“What in the name of Oblivion is a Cyrodilic Empire? Are you messing with me? And please, how does levitation magic simply get outlawed by this hypothetical Empire? What are you to do when you fall down a crevice? Just... let yourself perish? How degrading.)

She reintegrated herself into society with vengeance in mind under the belief that all humans are savage bloodlusting murderers who had to answer for their treachery. (And she was royally angry there was no Dwemer left to spite, but partially satisfied at the same time). But she grows conflicted after being shown genuine kindness, even as early as being freed from her binds in Helgen.

Subsequently has a very muddled redemption arc. Queue Dragonborn hero stuff

She has impaired vision, but she cultivated detect life magic to aid her in daily life and combat (think Hyakkimaru from Dororo ‘19 and his soul detection or Toph Beifong from ATLA and her seismic sense). At her peak, she can detect life from about a kilometer away.

She can just barely read, but only if she holds the text incredibly close to her face, not to mention her Cyrodilic lessons were left unfinished after her abduction, making reading a very taxing process. Weary travelers are often spooked at the sight of a floating, ghastly looking elven woman with her nose pressed up against crossroad signs, and it has become somewhat of an urban legend.

Isn’t as nearly as skilled with detecting the dead and tenses up in burial crypts or around other vampires for that reason. Unfortunately, being the Dragonborn and all, she finds herself in a lot of crypts...

When questioned about her background due to her unique appearance: “Oh, yeah. My mother was one of those mer from the east. You know the ones. Dark elves, I think? And my father was one of those er, tall elv- no, sorry, HIGH elves. Yeah. They both died in a big fire or something though. It was horrible. I can’t get the noxious smell or the deafening screams out of my head. Good talk, but never ask me about that again.”

Queue sheltered old immortal antics: “Wow, you’re THAT old? Enlighten me on how it felt witnessing the fall of the Dwemer. Or perhaps the rise of Tiber Septim’s Empire. The Gates of Ob-“ “Oblivion if I know. I lived in someone’s basement for thousands of years. And I still don’t know what everyone means by Empire. You all are messing with me, aren’t you? That really annoys me.”

She ultimately returns to faith in Auri-El and makes it her life’s purpose to help the Betrayed find peace, as well as to seek out any remaining snow elf groups. Probably good friends with Gelebor or something.

Had a crush on Serana. We all know how THAT went. Damned temples.

Was originally gonna spiral into a much darker corruption arc (another ATLA comparison being Jet or Hama) but I just felt bad for her. Moureneris can have a little found peace. As a treat.

That’s her preliminary design made. I’ll need a mod to properly play her, because that right there was made by choosing Dunmer as her race. But I can’t do that. I’m on console, and while I got the Steam port a month ago, my PC’s stone age specs can’t handle Skyrim yet and I’ll need to wait until I can afford a better graphics card (thanks economic inflation)

Alexandre Armasi, jokingly nicknamed Alexandre the Curious

A complete and unapologetic export of my character from a dead and unfinished DND campaign. Except there are no Aasimar in Skyrim, so he’s half Altmer half Bosmer. And his initial last name was Armas but I thought Armasi suited his Skyrim counterpart more, as subtle a change it is.

He’s mainly Bosmer in appearance and constitution, save for his hair and eyes, which are more similar to that of his Altmeri father’s.

I can’t really export his original backstory though because the campaign wouldn’t translate well into TES lore at all.

He’s a writer who came wandering into Skyrim in search of inspiration. While he mainly writes dramatic fables, he wanted to divert his focus to crafting his own bestiary and herbal compendium surrounding Skyrim’s fauna and flora. The ones at home are simply too vague to him!

He’s very altruistic, wishing to spread cheer wherever he goes, through the art of song (even though he was a cleric in DND and not a bard. My bad.) However, many of his verses are just blatant self promotions of his published fables.

But he’s too naive for his own good. Dangerously so. In fact, he says what’s on his mind with little forethought, with little grasp on the consequences of his actions, which lands him in lots of trouble. “I don’t favor him myself, but you guys kill people over Talos worship? That’s not very cool. A bit scary, if you ask me.” or “A Stormcloak rebel? Didn’t your leader kill a bunch of Reachmen rebels years back, or so I’ve heard. By the divines that’s not a man I’d make a symbol of nonconformity.”

He’s also insatiably curious. The type to ACTUALLY shove alchemic ingredients in his mouth with no knowledge of their properties, experiment with dangerous rune spells, throw rocks at pressure plates, and more. Needless to say he’s very accident prone.

Doesn’t know common curse words. People exploit this for laughs. Think that episode of Spongebob.

Everyone is a little baffled that HE of all people is the prophesied Dragonborn of legend. This agonizingly imbecilic writer who has absentmindedly wandered into burial crypts, troll dens, bandit forts, and more, too busy juggling his manuscripts to pay attention to his surroundings.

His past doesn’t exactly reflect his outlook on life. His mother and father fought in the Great War aligned with the Imperials despite their elven background. Both managed to live to see the war’s conclusion, but his father vanished without a trace shortly after, and it seems his mother knows something she won’t tell him.

With plenty of exposure to bad influences, his innocence is slowly lost throughout the course of his journey, and his altruism begins to grow twisted. But nevertheless, he maintains his jovial, social persona, except this time with much darker undertones. Kinda like a creepy dentist or something.

Whoops. He winds up becoming a feared Dark Brotherhood assassin. (Haha get it “Innocence Lost”???) He somehow deluded himself into thinking that the life of an assassin was the right thing to do. But he’s a funky little guy so he gets a pass for his heinous crimes against society

[lady-o-ren]

THE BRIDE

A/N: Ok. I lied. I thought I had to sacrifice the Jamie and Claire threads but really I just chopped the St. Germain one (much heavier in the disciples du mal thingy and witchcraft). Anyway this is a pinch of acotar and some bits from DOA too at the end. There will be mistakes!

______

The bride paces anxiously in her windowless chambers, trampling over the ripped and scattered remains of a once delicate veil. She wears no wedding gown. Has fed it to the hearth fire where the gold silk threads and embroidered pearls ignite the stonewalls in a hellish glow. 

She is betrothed to the notorious nobleman The Comte St. Germain. A man of exquisite elegance and roguish charm that many girls can only dream of marrying. But she isn't fooled.

She knows the depths of treachery that dwells in his breast and of the company he keeps that terrorize the dark corners of the city streets of Gaul. That all he wants from her is a woman to serve him on hand and knee, a body and soul to own.

And he has tried to. Bruising her throat and ribs. But she too has marked him ugly and bloody - gouging him from face to chest, her knee rammed between the crux of his thighs. It brings a half grin to her face.

But then she hears the ominous sound of a key sliding into the lock of the lone arched door. She stiffens like a hunted doe, bleeding her bottom lip in wait, until she hears the key jamming, breaking in two.

She shrieks with hysterical laughter if only to know that she can breathe again, clutching her aching sides as she does so. The Comte hears her and pounds the door with his fists as his threats fall loud and rabid.

He wants to bind her arm and foot. Shatter her bones beneath his boots. He wants to belt her flesh raw, slap and bite her pretty face. Wants to -

Her laughter chokes with bile, and her lily-white hands press painfully hard against her tender lips, as she wills herself to calm. 

She'll be faster, smarter, more ruthless than he. She'll throw him in the fire to roast black like the swine he is, herself too if she must. She'll -

She's barely caught her breath when the fire in the hearth dwindles to sapphire embers, illuminating the chamber like the belly of a twilight sea. The bride's heart leaps to her throat, throbbing with every skittering, piercing beat, as the stones of the hearth quake and unravel, parting for a cloaked figure to step through the impossible opening.

A silky mist whispers over him coming from the dark chasm behind and he lifts the dark green hood from his face revealing, undoubtedly, by the soft curve of his ears, a Fae Lord.

He looks as if he's flown on a thundercloud to find her, his mane wild and dark as elk's blood that ripples down the broad strength of his shoulders like the great tides of the sea. His eyes like the sickle moon are near black with ire as they linger on the iridescent bloom of bruises on her flesh and the thinness of the chemise she wears. But when his gaze meets hers they glimmer with startling tenderness and passion, and a love that burns brighter than the blue flames now writhing at his feet.  

The Lord's voice is low and ragged from unbridled emotion when he speaks yet he manages to smile wryly, "Should'a bride of such beauty be mournin' on her wedding day?" 

She'd forgotten how deeply she could hate him. Love him. All at once. That - That -

"You - you - Oh, Jamie!" She throws herself in her only beloved's arms that grip her just as fiercely, and he cries, "Claire, mo chridhe," into her curls, long and lovely as a willow's leaves.

She soaks in his warmth and strength that wraps around her like a shield, breathing in the scent of him - balsam trees and dewy grass, sun-warmed skin that tastes of woodsmoke and spring rain, and the pungent muskiness of exhaustion as he trembles to the bone with relief.

"How?" She mouths against his chest heaving strong as a bellow beneath her cheek. 

He nuzzles softly at her crown, hands soothing warmth down her back then shoulders, holding her slightly away.

"Our hearts are forever bound to one another, I've told ye so before." 

The night they met when he first made her laugh and she dared to kiss him along the glittering Seine. 

"I could feel yer despair, thought maybe ye were feeling the same pain as I. Regret for how we parted when ye told me ye loved me nae more." He squeezes her shoulders, knowing how she lied but not why. "But I felt it grow weaker day after day, and kent it must be something more. I ken ye told me to leave ye be but I thought ye were dying, my love. I couldna keep away."

Tears gloss her eyes as she bows her head ashamed, so quietly she says, "I thought you wouldn't. I meant to make you hate me." 

"Never," he affirms, lifting her chin. "I shouldna have let my temper get the better of me, to keep me from yer side. If I hadn't -"

His mouth tightens as he brushes his knuckles down her cheek, gently thumbing her swollen bottom lip.

He wants to kiss the blood away, the blight that colors her skin. Wants to love her till there's nothing left of them but a single soul. . .

But the door is finally forced open and he comes face to face with the Comte St. Germain.

The Fae Lord erupts with rage violent and luminous as a lightning bolt, cracking the stones that encircle them all, as he claws at the air and twists his wrist. The Comte stupidly, desperately, reaches for the iron forged rapier strapped to his waist, beseeching the protection of the wickedly divine that he's pledged his soul to, but instead of deliverance, he's sent flying into the far wall. 

His bones shatter with a sickening crunch as blood and strangled screams sputter from his mouth. 

"That's enough," Claire says in a moment of pity to her Lord, and with tremendous effort, she pulls him away, leaving the wretched Comte St. Germain gasping for air alone in the cold dark as the walls that he imprisoned her within collapse.

//

Claire's brought to a small clearing just as dawn slowly breaks across the big sky, a hazy plume of dark grey and lavender, and the barest hint of golden sunlight. The wind is chilly and tugs at her hair but she savors its biting caress that shudders down her spine, intoxicating her lungs. She walks enjoying the feel of the tall grass tickling her fingertips and the dirt soft beneath her bare feet, but she finds a gaping absence at her side.

She glances over her shoulder where Jamie trails behind, watching her with trepidation as an aching question whispers from his mouth.

"Will ye run off again, mo nighean donn? Is this the last I'll see of ye?"

She wraps her arms around herself, curls whisking like dandelion seeds across her lashes and cheeks.

"I didn't run, Jamie."

"Ye did," he reproaches softly, not wanting another fight. "Like a thief in the night with my heart. I gave ye all of me gladly and forever will -"

"But I can't promise you the same." Her bleeding heart lodges thick in her throat and the truth of it all comes pouring out. "Maybe a few decades, a blink in the eye to you, before I wither to decay, and you still beautiful as the day we met."

"That's what's been troublin' ye?" His face is serious, but one corner of his mouth curls up irrepressibly. 

"Don't you laugh!" She says furiously.

"I think I will," Jamie smiles widely, and takes a step toward her meaning to kiss the foolishness from her vexing mouth but she takes a step back. He raises an auburn brow daring her to move away from him again and she thrusts her defiant chin high and kicks her left heel back.

What comes next is a flurry of limbs and grunts that leaves Claire breathless with her slender wrists pinned above her head and chrysanthemums crushed in her hair. Her eyes dark as black amber glare into his.

"God's, you are a stubborn wee thing," Jamie admires through his mounting frustration, himself mangled with dirt and grass.

"And you weigh more than a bloody damn bear!" She pants and wriggles beneath him, trying to ignore the spikes of heat rushing through her veins where he's pressed solid and unyielding against her.

 "Now get off!" 

"Not until ye hear me out, wee besom!" 

"What more can be said? Nothing can be done! Love isn't magic, it won't keep the years from taking me from you."

Jamie's face catches fire in the growing morning light, and moves their hands to press hard on the swell of his breast beating the same raw rhythm as hers.

"So long as my body lives, so will yours, mo ghraidh. Though I think ye'd look just as bonny touched like starlight, the years no matter how few, around yer golden eyes. But ye must know," his words fall heavily and he feels her pulse at her wrist give a lurching thump. "That when my body shall cease, yours will as well. It could be this day, tomorrow, maybe centuries or more. The only consequence when ye make a blood vow with a fae."

She blinks up at him, thrumming like a viola. "A blood vow?" 

His lips curl shyly and his breath warm as melted butter brushes hers. "It's done when my kind find their mates. A sacred, unbreakable vow that binds two souls in this life and after."

"Like marriage?" She blushes and smiles, the first in so very long, looking lovelier than she ever has to Jamie.

 "Aye." He answers simply, low and husky, and finds his courage in three soaring heartbeats.

"My Lady, my Claire, will ye have me as your husband? To serve ye, worship ye, wi' all that I am?"

Tears begin to fall again though she's beaming with joy, tangling her fingers in Jamie's mane as he claims a loving long kiss down the trail of each one. 

When he hovers above her lips, they brush his in answer.

"Well I am wearing white."

"Ye won't be wearing a thing if ye say I do."

[curechocolattymilk]

TES V OC Thingie

[Got tagged by @jessaryss​ ! ]

Pause your game! Wherever your OC is in their game currently, tell me about their story so far.

✧✧✧ General

Current Level: 56

Name: Jeer-Tei Perdes

Name Meaning: Literally got it from a name generator lol. But lore wise it was a name gifted to them in honor of an Argonian who served beside Tei’s mother during the Great War

Pronouns: They/Them

Age: Early 30s where they are story wise???

Race(s): Argonian

Place of Origin: Hammerfell

Pick A Theme Song For Them: oof that's tough... From a Crowded Wound or maybe even Firstwake? If you really played around w personal interpretation/the lyrics that is haha

✧✧✧ Locations

Where Did You Begin Their Game?: Argonian Assemblage, Windhelm (Alternative Start)

Where Are They Currently In Your Game?: Whiterun

What Are They Doing There?: Just finished attending a party held in their honor (Post Blood of Kings)

Homes?: Breezehome, Proudspire, Lakeview & Autmnwatch

# of Locations Discovered?: 274

Dungeons Cleared: 104

Misc. Quests Completed: 87

Favorite Areas and/or Locations: Falkreath / Lakewview Manor. Both areas are where Tei heads off to in order to collect their thoughts/feel some sense of calm.

✧✧✧ Main Quest

Are They Dragonborn / Do They Know It At This Point?: Yes & yes

How Do They Feel About Being Dragonborn: It's...complicated, being thrust into the role of savior by gods of the Cult, which in turn are followed by the folk who see you lesser than them. Tei already has a dislike towards the Divines, this doesn't really help lol

Main Quests Completed: 21

Where Are They In The Main Story Line: Alduin's dead, currently trying to ignore the Civil War as long as they can before the Empire forces its hand into forcing them to join their ranks

Dragon Souls Absorbed: In total overall? 147. The amount currently stored in Tei? 45

Words of Power Learned: 64

Shouts Mastered: 21

Favorite Shout: Firebreath / Dragonrend

✧✧✧ Combat

Most Used Weapon(s): Daedric war axe OR Dragonbone battle axe. Tei technically has both on them at all times during adventuring, alongside a shield, so which they used depends on the situation/which they grab fastest.

Combat Style: Two/One-handed tank. Main tactic is to rush in, cause as much damage/chaos as possible to shake up the opponent, & clean up what the ranged attackers of the party (usually Rumarin, Inigo and/or Lucien) weren't able to deal with.

Armor Type / Level In It: HEAVY ARMOR BABYYYYY (Level 100 + 35 extra points via enchantments)

# of Training Sessions: 99 in-game, lore wise its a lot of self-teaching/keeping their skills learned from Hammerfell sharp. Some of these are magic but lore-wise this doesn't happen cus Tei is not a magic user, save for shouts. I just did those in-game for exp OR so I can help Lucien raise his magic skills :'D

Who Taught Them?: In-game?? Fuuuck so many npcs. Lore-wise? They learned this from their schooling in Hammerfell, going off the canon-lore that it's p much expected for everyone to have a grasp on combat & weaponry! Though they did learn a few things from Kaidan & Anum-La.

Favorite Enemy Type: Dragons! Despite the fact Tei does not have the best magic resistance, it's one hell of a challenge they love to meet.

Least Favorite Enemy Type: Automatons, because of a bad experience with them as a child. Also Undead, because they were raised not to disturb them & it just feels so wrong having to fight them/go into tombs.

People Killed: 945

Animals Killed: 749 (Hunterborn makes hunting fun lol)

Undead Killed: 766

Automatons Killed: 105

Daedra Killed: 136

✧✧✧ Magic

Favorite School(s): None, actually. Destruction is okay though....they guess

Most Used Spell(s): Firebreath or Dragon Aspect. Tei doesn't consider shouts spells though. It's totally different guys shut up they ain't no smelly mage gods

Spells Learned: 9 in-game, mainly due to the spells you're kinda forced to learn for some quests/the ones you automatically know

Items Enchanted: 19 (Tei technically doesn't enchant, and wont next playthrough for sure I wont give in this time >:[ )

College of Winterhold Quests Completed: 8

Where Are They At In The Questline?: Main quest is done bcus i dont like seeing unfinished quests in my journal lmao. Tei's involvement is completely different from canon though in my take. Moreso was hired as a guard for the expedition & was, unwillingly, dragged into the rest of the mess. Is not offered the Archmage position, that went straight to Tolfdir.

Opinions on Magical Guilds (Arcane University, Winterhold, Psijics, Synod, Radiant Dark, etc.): As they get older, they tolerate the guild & magic users more n more, BUT, Tei grew up in an environment that frowns upon the practice of magic, & it shows. They mainly mistrust necromancers/illusionists & still hold onto that belief that reliance on magic, especially for combat, is a weakness.

Bold words for someone with shit magic resistance.

✧✧✧ Crime

Current Gold: 10,640

How Did They Acquire Their Gold?: Odd jobs, selling a lot of the items they made/harvested from smithing & hunting (jewelers are their go-to hirers bcus Tei is great at getting things like ivory), Dwemer ruin diving (they refuse to loot the tombs), also yknow....being part of the Dark Brotherhood helps

Largest Bounty On Their Head: 11,240

For...?: Unfortunately they did not stand down when they were being falsely accused of murder in Markarth. First time Tei called down dragons (Sahrotaar, specifically, Tei managed to get command of Miraak's dragons post-Dragonborn) to absolutely smite some fools.

Current Bounty: None! They're good at not getting caught/threatening and/or bribing guards. :)

Locks Picked: 15 i think?

Jail Time: 1, Cidhna Mine

Jail Escapes: 1, teamed up w the Forsworn lol

Murders: 28

Assaults: 307....In their defense people keep getting in their way during dragon attacks

Items Stolen: 37, most of them from the nobles of Windhelm

Thieves Guild Quests Completed: N/A (wont be doing this storyline unless i cant find a mod that'll let me get the shouts locked behind it)

Dark Brotherhood Quests Completed: 20

Where Are They At In Those Questlines?: DB is completed main arc wise!

✧✧✧ Relationships

Relationship Status: Married to two lovely fellas

Current Companions: atm? none

Housecarls: Lydia & Rayya

Friends (outside of party): Zora Fair-Child, Inigo, Lucien, Anum-La, Morndas, Aela the Huntress, Nazir, Babette, Scouts-Many-Marshes, Isobel, Madesi

Children: Khash, Chases-Starlight, Ram-Ku. (going of where Tei is now - Otero & Mei come around later on in Tei's story!)

Romantic Interest(s): Kaidan & Rumarin.

Sexual Orientation:

GAY

✧✧✧ Religion

Pantheon: Yokudan, with a hint of Hircine worship in there

Patron Deity(ies): From the Yokudan pantheon: Tei mainly views HoonDing as their main patron, but also prays to/pays respect to Satakal.

They are also Hircine's champion.

Daedric Quests Completed: 3 (Hircine, Vile, Dagon - the last Tei didn't really help, moreso pissed off)

Aedric Quests Completed: 1 if you count the whole Alduin thing I guess?

How Devout Are They?: Tei is rather devout, esp to their Yokudan patrons, praying or making offerings daily. They aren't the type to really push it in your face though, but have no issues answering questions one might have.

How Do They Feel About Talos Worship?: Deep down they acknowledge & admit trying to ban worship is terrible, but....Tei also lets their bias/experience with Windhelm, the Stormcloaks & especially Ulfric kinda cloud over this. If the Nords want their old ways so damn much, why fight for a divine from the Imperial Cult? Why not go back to the actual old ways? No, this isn't about worship, not to the men leading this so-called rebellion, they just needed something other than their racist bullshit to fool the common man into throwing their lives away for the nobles sitting comfortable in their thrones.

Also during their whole thing of getting into their role of dragonborn, they get a bonus 'fuck this dude actually' towards Talos, Ysmir, whatever the fuck he calls himself. (tldr; it sucks but good luck hearing Tei say that fully)

✧✧✧ Politics

Gray-Mane or Battle-Born?: Neither, ask them again they will punch you for the love of Ruptga they get asked that every time they enter Whiterun.

Stormcloaks or Imperials?: Also neither, Tei hates em both n think they can all choke. Unfortunately they were forced to join the latter due to, yknow, calling dragons & causing massive damage in Imperial territories during isolated fits of rage and the group being more aggressive in wanting something in return for "letting it slide"....oops

Opinion on the Thalmor?: Oh absolutely despises them, they loudly complained having to work with them during the CW & would go out their way to disrupt their plans/piss them off. Sneaking was an option they did not take during the Embassy quest, if it helps paint the picture.

Opinion Of Ulfric Stormcloak?: Tei doens't say they hate people often...but they sure as hell hate Ulfric. Again, their experience in Windhelm added to this heavily, how both the Dunmer & Argonians were treated like shit, with no help whatsoever from the Jarl or guards when the local Nords targeted them. It's still up in the air if I keep this for Tei's story, but I have it where they knew Chases-Starlight's parents, who were killed. When Tei went up & demanded justice/an investigation, only to be brushed off because it "wasn't a priority," it completely destroyed what little empathy or hope they had left for Windhelm as a whole.

Opinion of The Empire?: Cowards too weak to continue fighting back against the Thalmor, in their opinion, & holds these views they grew up with even when being strong-armed into aiding them. If anything they're at least attempting to use their influence to hint towards a rebellion against the Thalmor, but the Empire could also full-on dissolve & they could give less of a shit.

Civil War Quests Completed: 0

✧✧✧ Personal

How Are They Doing? Need Some Juice? A Nap? A Hug?: The whole event of Blood of Kings has fucked with their head, to say the least. It's the starting point of Tei's eventual spiral. So uh...yeah they're not sure how they're doing everything they knew about reality was kinda challenged & they don't rlly have anyone to talk to about it so its cool, its fine, its all good.

A nap is probably needed, not sure about a hug theough they're super flinchy rn

Days Past In Game: 196

Hours of Sleep: 846

Food Items Consumed: 1833

How Many Playthroughs Have You Done With This Character: Tei actually is an older character from the 360 days so uh...maybe 5 at most? This playthrough & their S:EC one coming up when the mod releases being the main ones focusing on their story

Overall How's Your Level Of Fun: Alright I would say! I just been stepping away from Skyrim more often lately to avoid burning out from it

Must Have Mods To Play This Character (for story or other reasons): Ordinator, Wintersun Faiths, Immersive Armors, Sarcastic Player Dialogue, 3DNPC, Inigo, Lucien Flavius, Kaidan 2, Khash the Argonian, Alternative Start, Leviathan Animations, Beast Race Body Paints, Beast HHBB, Apocalypse Magic, Deadly Dragons, Growl: Werewolf Overhaul, Pronouns, uhhh....idk what else without actually listing my current modlist lmao

----

And that's it for Tei! Anyone who wants to do this go on ahead!

[kathyprior4200]

Let Us Rise by Marquis Phenex

Let me tell you a tale

That happened long ago

You may already know the legend

But still I shall speak it so

 Back before the Earth was made

Before life-giving air

Far within the cosmos

The Lord God was there

 Some say he’s an omnipotent being

Appearing as a wise man

One with his son Jesus Christ

The whole universe is His plan

 Others say that’s not so

That He doesn’t exist at all

While some say He’s actually Satan

Here to answer our call

 Or perhaps God is the universe itself

Where atoms and molecules collide

The truth is, none of us know

I’ll let you decide

 No matter the case, at the Creator’s own pace

Heaven emerged so bright

Cyan skies, fluffy clouds

And a realm of pure delight

 Endless room to fly around

There stood palaces of gold

Dancing angels were abound

Songs were sung and stories were told

No one ever grew sick or old

 The Angelorium was a marvelous place

Where we had our council meetings

Were we discussed comings and goings

And where we did our greetings

 We enjoyed feasts and epicurean dishes

Golden fruits and divine fishes

Divine wine that flowed so fine

Only the greatest place to dine

 Yes, our Father created all of us

Lucifer was the first

The bright and perfect Morning Star

Seeking knowledge to quench his thirst

 Shortly after, his siblings were created

Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Jophiel, Zadkiel

And many others more

The Archangels and the various hierarchies

Kept cosmic order, law, and records to store

 Then one day, Father decreed

His new adventurous plan

He decided to conjure a new experiment

And he called his creation “Man.”

 At first glance, there was nothing special

About this new species’ birth

A land of earth and sea appeared

And He called it “Earth.”

 You humans were truthfully

Little more than ants to us

But we peered further in

And you were quite marvelous

 Thousands of years of evolution

You grew and you learned

But you also stole natural resources

None of which you earned

 Humanity was quite weak

Mortal and flawed in mind

But you also had a great ability

To create more of your own kind

 As we’re immortal, we have no need

To create more of us

No fears for thousands of years

That’s the way it has been, thus

 Now many of us were neutrally pleased

As far as humanity would go

But while we felt this way

For Lucifer it was not so

 Lucifer was God’s favorite

He took his status in stride

A new change after many centuries

Conjured a spark in his pride

 Everyone has flaws

God does as well

Everything is not as it seems

It is best not to dwell

 A million new thoughts

Had crossed the morning Star’s head

Why are these humans so special?

When they’ll all just be dead?

We angels were here first

Our superiority is first in line

If humans will not improve themselves

Then with this, I am not fine.”

 But God favoring humans was not the only reason

That Lucifer felt a sudden chill

Like cold after a warm season

All seemed eerily still

Besides being mistrustful of humans

Flying out of range

Lucifer noticed other things not seen before

Things that were quite strange

 All his brethren performed their duties

Like clockwork through and through

It was the same process day after day

That’s all they had to do

No questions were asked at all

No self-expression was allowed

The true kind that frees your mind

Feelings that make one truly proud

Stern rules to stifle creativity

Damnation threats for the smallest mistake

And after many years of submission

It was too much for him to take

  Lucifer strode to his Father and said loud and clear

“What is the meaning of this? What is it that you fear?

Why do you create random beings,

Pets in a lab to analyze?

And why do you impose standards on us

Before our very eyes?”

And He replied, “Listen Son,

“There is reason in everything I do,

To keep angels and humans in good harmony. You don’t have a clue.

To prevent chaos, traditions are set in their ways,

Be an obedient son and do your duty all your days.”

 Lucifer was about to do just that

But he knew in his heart

That it wouldn’t be right

To let pure happiness be torn apart

 Now here’s a major event

You may have heard before

Did it happen? No one is sure

The first Heaven-Hell War

 Now some say Seraphim Lucifer

Gathered his brethren and chose to depart

From paradise for they

Sought freedom and joys of the heart

But the common version does tell

Of how a prideful Lucifer did rebel

Gathered 1/3 of the angels to his side

Led by his jealousy and pride

(‘Tis not the story version to which we abide)

Tired of his Father’s current rule

He sought his throne and his dream to reign

Like Zeus overthrew his father Chronus

A vicious cycle again and again

But alas, his efforts were in vain

 After three days, Michael implored

His bother to stop, to which he ignored

“End this madness,” said he,

“Live our peaceful lives. Obedience is key.”

As Lucifer replied, “I find you are blind,

To what is really going on,

No matter what is asked of you

You grovel and submit and worship in song

Without regard to how you truly feel

I don’t want to fight you either

But if we could enlighten all worlds together

Be more than El’s believer.”

With tears in his eyes, Michael shook his head

“I’m sorry, brother, but instead,

The rules must be followed

Heaven has no need for your greed

It’s a hard truth to swallow

To keep our land in perfection

To support our Lord every day

By His decree, I must send you away.”

 With a swoop and slash of Michael’s sword of fire

Lucifer endured burns most dire

Sharp relentless pains never-ending

And before long, he felt himself descending

Further and further down

As trumpets let out their sound

Lucifer and his comrades

Fallen, defeated, banished

Flames licked at their wings

Until all their glorious feathers vanished

In curls of sparks and ash

They screamed in agony and despair

They plummeted fast

Like meteors crashing toward the Earth

In flashes of light they fell and fell

Until landing in the fires and brimstones of Hell

 They got up with shaking legs

Battered and bruised everywhere

But as they were immortal

They had survived their fall then and there

Lucifer knew that something was amiss

As he stood in the dark Abyss

Was this His plan all along?

To let them fall as a warning

Of what happens to those in the wrong?

With nowhere left to roam

The darkness was now their home

Fiery lakes, smoke and monsters appeared

Filled with suffering and things they suddenly feared

In this new environment

Adaptation was a requirement

Survival of the fittest and strong

The weak would not last long

So the fallen angels morphed in their sorrow and wrath

Gaining animal-like features

Sharp fangs, claws, dark powers

Soon becoming demon creatures

No knowing what else to do

They flew and slew and cities they blew

Losing control of their former selves

The same would happen if it were you

 With the last of his grace

Lucifer scanned the place

And knew what to do

With Beelzebub at his side

Regaining his pride

He spoke to his subjects

“Rise or be fallen forevermore!

When opportunity dies, create another door.

Wounded and weary, our paradise lost

But the price of free will is always worth the cost.

Don’t believe me? Follow me now.

Our former glories will be restored somehow.

After we’re all settled, I have a plan

To help decide the future of Man.”

 Soon enough the capital Pandemonium

Was erected in gold and precious gems galore

Towering pillars, sigils on every door

The palace larger than the tallest demons

Allowing everyone to fit

The citizens had their human-like flaws

But never knew how to quit

 The Infernal Council was founded

Structure more grounded

Demon in various ranks

Of kings, dukes, princes, judges

Everything in between

Adapting to times unseen

  Now I believe

You know the Christian story of Adam and Eve?

Mankind’s first fall and sin

A loss or a hidden win?

Adam’s first wife Lilith

Wanted to be equal to him

But Adam was told she had to submit

Things were looking grim

Lilith soon left Eden, refusing to come back

Representing sexual freedom

But no freedom there was but a lack

  God then made for Adam from his rib

A more submissive partner Eve

Both loved each other very much

But were also new and naïve

Around the natural Eden

They could roam mindlessly unbidden

But the Tree of the Knowledge

Of Good and Evil was forbidden

A forbidden tree with forbidden fruit

Right in plain sight

If God forbade them to eat from it

Guarding it would have been a method more bright

 Then legends say

Satan appeared as a snake

Tempting Eve to eat the apple

Leaving destruction in their wake

Eve then gave the apple to Adam

In some versions, fully knowing the cost

He purposefully ate it too, not wanting Eve lost

With flaming swords in hand

Angels bid the first humans away

From paradise’s golden gates

To the rest of the world that day

Michael then told Adam

Of biblical events to come

While God punished

Eve with future pains of labor

And both with death until it was said and done

 Did Lucifer and Satan (or alternatively Lilith) desire

For mankind to fail and decay by fire?

Or perhaps to your surprise

The devil alternatively whispered to Eve:

“Stop living lies.

Eat the fruit and you’ll be free

To live through joy and despair like me

Or wander around in brainwashed bliss

To remain stagnant with knowledge to miss

You are destined to fall and die

God has made it so

He’s testing you and knows you’ll fail

Resist temptation to no avail

Man and woman are made to be equal

Though God says man must rule

If you’re content to be sheep

No free will to keep

Consider yourself a fool

You will know as much as God does

But in a different way

For in time you’ll learn that you’re your own God

You’ll make the most of every day.”

 Now none of us angels and demons

Are against God and the faithful per se

There is wisdom in every religion

Goodness in Christ, originally that way

Religions ancient and new

Originally promoted humanitarian kindness too

But as time went by with more power to take

Ideals and values became shallow and fake

Killing, raping and converting thousands more

Endless bloody crusades, witch hunts, destruction of land

Wars over faith, no logic to understand

An unhealable hole in humanity, too grand

Suffering, racism, bigotry

All in the name of their God, you see

Their God that humanity corrupted

After concern for fellow men was brashly interrupted

The real God and Jesus would never wish that it was so

But dominant history wins and there you go

  We demons are against bigotry, the ignorant

And all those who try to shut down

The basic human rights of free-will and responsibility

Authoritarianism must drown

It is not Satan who promotes sinful indulgence

And harsh authoritarianism

It is only your social systems

That keep you imprisoned

  And as if our historic fall wasn’t enough

Many of us endured

Our entrapment by King Solomon

Thus more events concurred

He put 72 of us in a vessel

Abused us with blasting rods

Made us build temples and do his will

Like he was one of the gods!

He had wives and gold and luxury

A part of history, an occult trend

But before long, time went on

And he too, met his end

We demons were eventually freed

To aid magicians and roam

From Earth to Hell and back again

But neither realm our true home

We hope to return to heavenly paradise

Where angels, demons and humans

Can someday be themselves as one, so true

(Though it’s hard at times to collaborate with angels, too)

  Much of humanity has been brainwashed

But the angels much more so

For while some humans can question what they see

Angels don’t know how to say no

How can they? Their purpose is to serve

God and some humans, more than they deserve

Like us demons, angels are powerful

Loving liberal science, magic and song

But be rude and make the wrong move

They’ll let you know why you’re wrong

  Angels, demons, other gods and spirits

Fascinated by humanity

We’re just here to watch the result

Whether a blessing or a calamity

Despite your mundane lifestyles

We want what is best for you

To help humanity grow and see progress that’s true

Like the angels we used to be

And still are inside

We are divine on our own

And take conflicts in stride

  God and Christianity are not to blame

It is merely society’s institutions

That puts your race to shame

Thousands of years of corruption and conversion

It’ll take a thousand more for healing

But alas, alternate views and change for the majority

Of humanity is not appealing

To truly get into paradise

Save yourselves in the here and now

Indulge responsibly, do not bow

Respect living things as sisters and brothers

Even though it may be hard

Cherish and forgive the ones you love

But always stay on guard

However you see God or Mother Nature or the Universe

Make Him proud by

Doing the right thing

And do more than try

You are His treasured experiment

Will you succeed in the temporary trial of life?

  Supernatural entities can harm or help you out

But you must first help and protect yourselves, no doubt

Pray as you may, conjure and chant

We are the guides to your self-will and rant

Yes, a few of us see humans

As insignificant as bugs

But many of us can be your friends

Even giving spiritual hugs

  We demons serve under Lucifer, Satan, Lilith, etc.

We have a culture of our own

Some of us are demonized pagan gods

Stolen from what was first known

Most of us are fallen angels

A perilous transformation to embark

But through it all, we survived the fall

And learned to embrace the dark

There’s dark and light in everything

Balance is a must

With your world and ours being complex

How do you know who to trust?

  We endured a horrific fall

We lost all we had

But the ignorance of angels and humans

That’s what drives us mad

You see, black and white is not in the right

Some angels are friendly and warm

But others will push you away

If you don’t follow the norm

There are good and bad demons too

Nothing like you’d expect

Us demons are wise and open to you

Provided you show respect

We’re not afraid to keep you on your toes

If it means you’ll learn good lessons

As everything goes

   Keep demonizing us demons

And the poor and flawed without care

We’ll just watch as you discriminate to death

And destroy yourselves in despair

Or for those open with a change of heart

Who know that none of us are truly apart

Rise from the ashes of atrocity

And fly within the flames of fellowship

  If you dare to fully embrace yourself

All aspects flawed and fine

Through black flames,

With honor and trust, call our names…

 We are the Ars Goetia, Demonic Divine.

[homogrimoire-archive]

Kingfield's Fourth Anniversary - Day 4

The Submissive and Breedable King

For their fourth anniversary, David and Dwight have a little bit of lewd fun.

AO3 Link

Dwight wasn't sure how long he had been in The Entity's Realm. But, it had been long enough for him to grow comfortable with the other survivors, for all of them to establish dynamics, even for some relationships to develop into something more.

If Dwight was told that he'd find love in a place where he was hunted for sport, he'd first slowly back away from whoever it was that told him. A person who was telling him that he would one day be hunted for sport was a person he really wouldn't want to be around. Second, he would be sure being hunted for sport would really make the whole dating thing even more difficult than it already was for him.

He was bisexual, which theoretically should have made things easier with more options. The thing was, capitalism is hell. Nine to five, not including commute, Monday through Friday, plus any overtime he couldn't really afford to decline. That's how it usually was for him. Though, he did have a lot of hookups, so he did at least have a lot of sexual experience.

Anyhow, he ended up using those skills on the person he honestly didn't think he'd be using them on: David King. When he first showed up, he screamed "STRAIGHT MAN. DWIGHT, DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL END UP HURT PHYSICALLY AND EMOTIONALLY BECAUSE OF HIM."

Dwight tried to heed that warning, he really did. But one thing led to another, and they grew to be friends. Hard not to when you saved each other's asses on numerous occasions. He found that David was actually a nice guy. Rough around the edges, sure, but nice to him and funny and loyal, once they got to know each other.

It was only a matter of time before he caught feelings then. Dwight was sure he fell right into the Entity's trap. While he hopelessly pined away, David acted as usual, which only made Dwight want and despair even more, as much as he tried not to.

But, as it turned out that warning he gave himself when he first met David was not exactly spot on. David was not straight. He found that out when he impulsively kissed David while they shared a locker, once the killer was gone, of course. Their bodies were just so close to each other that he couldn’t help it. He expected the other man to punch him or something for the violation. No. To his surprise, David leaned into it , moaning as he held Dwight close. Needless to say, they survived the trial, but did not stay by the fire for long. They had a very nice "walk."

They had many nice "walks" thereafter. And every so often, they would celebrate the beginning of their relationship. They could never be sure when a year had actually passed, but that didn’t really matter, just the special and often lewd celebration of them.

This time around, it was their fourth anniversary. It was a spur of the moment decision, one that definitely wouldn't be regretted.

After David and Dwight had finished being patched up from a trial, and told the group they were going out to celebrate the special occasion. Of course, they received some appropriately inappropriate comments that made Dwight blush as they went their merry way.

"All alone." David sighed once they finally reached a secluded area far away enough from the campfire.

“So how about we get started then?” Dwight deviously smiled. It was a look David loved to see. David leaned down slightly as they began to make out without a care in the world, caressing and grinding against one another. David might’ve been an Englishman, but he wasn’t opposed to french kissing, especially when Dwight could match his aggressiveness. It wasn’t often he got like that, but when he did, David knew he was in for a fun night, to say the least.

They barely even bothered with their clothes. Dwight merely unbuckled his belt and lowered his slacks and underwear to reveal his hard-on, a drop of precum leaking out the tip. He leaned against a tree as he pushed David down to suck it. David resisted only a little, just to make Dwight push him down with a little more force. Dwight was often surprisingly bossy during sex, but this level of dominance was a rare treat David that wanted to thoroughly enjoy.

Readily, he took the throbbing cock into his mouth and began to bob his head and swirl his tongue around it. Dwight seemed to be impatient, and grabbed a fistful of David’s hair and began to face fuck him like a hooker one would pick up on the corner. And David loved it. By now, he was an expert at taking Dwight's cock in his mouth.

He went with the motions, moaning in ecstasy and undoing his own belt so he could jerk himself off.

"You've got such a good mouth!" Dwight praised with an angry yell as he threw his head back. He wanted to last longer, but face fucking David just felt too good.

With a rough grunt, he pushed David's head all the way down to his pubes and came deep down his throat. Hearing him choke and feeling his throat spasm around his dick only made the release more euphoric.

After a few more thrusts, he released David, who shifted to sit so he could collect himself. He caught his breath and wiped away the saliva around his mouth and chin.

Looking up at an equally disheveled Dwight, David felt the urge to tear off the shorter man's clothes and worship every inch of him. He simply couldn't resist. After all, what else is a king to do when a god is before him?

David got up and began with a kiss to the cheek, then worked his way down to his neck, lightly biting and sucking at it to elicit a groan out of Dwight. As he did so, he worked to unbutton Dwight's shirt.

"That's… aaahhhh that's goood… Keep doing that, and don't stop 'til I say so." Dwight ordered with a debauched grin, and began to slowly jerk his lover off as he worshiped him.

Once all the buttons were undone, David let it fall off Dwight's shoulders as he worked his way lower, nipping at his exposed collarbone, then to his chest to place delicate kisses and to toy with his nipples. David loved the subtle and divine taste and scent of Dwight, a mix of sweat and cigarette smoke with a hint of earthiness that only Dwight could make him come to love.

He got on his knees once more and moved lower onto Dwight's stomach, uncaring of his own hard cock. It was worship time. But was stopped by Dwight's hand gently brushing through his hair and pushing him away slightly.

"I think it's time we get to the main event." Dwight said with a devious smile. "Down."

David obliged, throwing off his pants and underwear and getting down on all fours, face down and ass in the air. He felt absolutely exposed, even though his shirt still remained. He could feel Dwight leering down at him, admiring the sight before him before spreading his ass.

He began with a lick to his taint, sending a hot chill up his spine and eliciting a moan, and dragged his tongue up to David's hole. David groaned in bliss as Dwight ate his ass. He was often the one doing this to Dwight, so it was nice to be in the other position once more.

And soon, David felt Dwight remove his tongue and replace it with a lubed finger. They found some lube in the blood web, and they weren't gonna question it. David moaned at the intrusion. Then one finger became two, and David let out a low hiss as they entered him and began to open him up. After a moment, Dwight bumped against his prostate, making David involuntarily cry out from the sudden pleasure.

"Such a pretty noise." Dwight said in a low voice that made David's dick twitch.

"Please, just fuck me already." he whined, bucking his hips as Dwight finger fucked him. Any composure David held before was done away with more and more with each passing second as Dwight tortured him.

"I don't know. You didn't sound like you wanted to be fucked." Dwight teased, and inserted a third, lubed finger, catching David off guard. He let out a sound that was a mix of a grunt and a moan.

"God… Goddammit fuck me! Shag me! Use me! Just focking put your dick in me already!" David cried out. He continued to whine lewd noises and beg as his hole was thoroughly stretched.

That's what Dwight wanted to hear. If he were younger, less experienced, he might've came from hearing such salacious depravity. But he was definitely not that man anymore. He was going to take his time and enjoy every second of this to its fullest.

He took out his fingers, the sudden empty feeling making David cry a moan. He lubed up his cock, and teased his boyfriend's entrance with it.

"Is this what you want?" Dwight asked, wanting to hear David beg more in his rough and strainedvoice.

"Yes dammit! Bloody hell, just give it to me already!" he yelled, whimpering as he grinded against his boyfriend's slick cock in hopes of some relief. He was so hungry for it he was about to starve to death.

"Hmm… I don't know if you're ready yet." Dwight teased once more, knowing it would get a rise out of the man on his hands and knees for him.

"Damn you Dwight! I-" David yelled, the lustful anger in him dispelling as soon as Dwight shoved his full length into his ass. He shrieked at the welcome surprise, a spurt of precum dripping out of his cock from the impact.

"Mmm, there we go. You're so hot and loose. Did you want me that bad?" Dwight playfully wondered.

David would have answered, but he was too caught up in the lustful bliss to answer. Cliché, but being filled with his boyfriend's cock made him feel whole. David quietly mewled as Dwight began to slowly thrust in and out, gently fucking David with his his full length. David didn't even dare touch his cock. He wanted his boyfriend to literally fuck the cum out of him.

"Dwight…" David moaned. "Bollocks… harder, pleeease…" he begged. Dwight responded with a quick slap to David's ass.

"Shhh…" Dwight ordered as he groped and spread David's ass. "We'll get to that soon." He said, and groaned as he savored slowly pulling his cock in and out of David's hole.

That went on for a few more minutes. But it felt like an eternity to David. He quietly cried for more as the slow movements relentlessly tortured him. By now, the coat he rested on had gained a growing and noticeable spot of precum as it dribbled out the tip of his cock seemingly nonstop.

Finally, to David's relief, Dwight began to speed up. As he pounded David's ass faster and faster, deeper and deeper, he moaned louder and louder. Dwight began to grunt loudly from the pleasure as well. He felt his climax nearing, and grabbed onto David's hips to he could fuck David harder.

Dwight pounded David's hole in a sordid frenzy, moaning his lover's name as he came. David shot his load with a vulgar scream mere moments after Dwight did, the leader still ferociously pounding away. That was what they had been waiting for all night.

The both of them were panting heavily. Dwight slid his cock out with an obscene pop. David plopped down, uncaring of the mess he was making on himself. There wasn't any place nearby to bathe or clean up this time, but clean up wasn't too great a priority, considering The Entity would fix them up after a trial and dressed them like she was a little girl playing with her dolls. And a little bit of cum was nothing in the face of pools of blood, sweat, and tears, among other things depending on the killer and the setting.

Dwight laid down right next to him, the high of the climax slowly fading. He had buttoned up his pants, but his shirt still remained unbuttoned. In contrast, below the waist, David was still completely exposed. He had his soiled coat to lay on though.

Dwight searched for David's hand and took it into his as he found it. He looked to the left of him to see that David was still recovering. He planted a chaste kiss on his lips. David grumbled something and scooted closer to Dwight, throwing an arm over him to cuddle.

"Love you." Dwight said as he stroked his fingers through David's hair. This was nice, having David so close and calm next to him.

"Mmm, love you too." David said back with a kiss to Dwight's neck.

-

Eventually, they were called into a trial after laying together for a while before they got dressed because they began to feel a little gross. They agreed to do that again very soon though. They entered the trial, determined and ready to survive.

Thanks to their offering, they managed to spawn together. But for Dwight, that small joy soon turned to horror. David looked at Dwight, and then down at his shirt, and grinned proudly. The Entity had put them in matching couple's shirts. One read "Full of Cum" and the other read "I Came In Him". The pride charm on a nearby hook seemed to be mocking Dwight now.

[full-pockets]

My Zonai theories that I have like no evidence to back up but why not say them anyway?

The Zonai pillars found around the land, esp Hyrule, Faron & even one in the Rito area, are all gravestones of the Zonai that died in Hyrule. I'm pretty sure I got this theory cause I mis-heard something in another Zonai related theory video.

The Zonai are not from Hyrule at all and they don't belong in Hyrule. The only evidence I have to back this up is that we see places of worship, Typhlo Ruins or the lybrinths. We never see actual destroyed settlements with housing that belong to them. No artifacts or weapons (besides the Zonai armor which I'm not counting cause those are found in the lybrinths), no decendents or even monsters that could have been Zonai but got corrupted by Malice. They came to Hyrule and later built the dragon statues to worship Farosh, the eagle for wisdom and the boar for power. Like ancient day settlements, they saw these forces as God like deities that they should worship. Even thou they are not from Hyrule, part of their ancestry or culture has parts of Hyrule's culture. We don't see any survivors because they all went back to their original domain/dimension. I don't believe they all died out, even from the Calamity.

Alternative theory to the above, the are made by the Sheikah & kept secret so that the royal family doesn't even know about them. Similar to the whole situation of the Shadow Temple in Ocarina of Time. The Sheikah made them as another experiment and sent them across the land. To do what, idk. Why would they make Typhlo Ruins, the lybrinths and have dragon imagery around the Spring of Courage? Well these places all do hold shrines, so maybe they are just all unique tests.

The Zonai are desencdents of the Twili. The only real similarities thou is that the Luminous Stone have a similar teal colour the Twili have, which ties into the other theory that the Luminous Stones have the souls of the Zonai in them.

The original four pilots of the Divine Beasts where all Zonai. The civilizations that in the future would pilot the Divine Beasts, Rito, Zora, Goron & Gerudo, where either non existent at the time, had very small populations or just no one was equipped to pilot such large new machinery. If the Zonai were actually made by the Sheikah, it makes sense that they would pilot the beasts as the Sheikah would believe they had the trust of the Zonai.

This one has some evidence to back it up, thou still very vague. This is from the MasterWorks Creating a Champion book, a third party book.

Impa never mentions the Zonai as part of the history cause 1 it's a dark secret 2 she also doesn't really mention anythin about the monks and how they are alive but not really and 3 the Zonai don't reside in Hyrule anymore, so there's no importance of telling Link or even Zelda about them. No other Sheikah or even Yiga mentions them cause it's a dark gruesome secret, plus it's not like all of the Sheikah or Yiga would know about them, it's possible only a select few were selected to do the experiments and even fewer were allowed to know what was actually happening. It's also very possible that the other oldest Sheikah we do see Robbie, Purah and maybe even Master Kohga, don't know about the experiments or weren't involved in them.

Since the Yiga broke off from the Sheikah very early on in time, they know even less, if anythin at all about the Zonai, not to mention anythin they might know would be severely outdated, if any Yiga even passed in information about the Zonai.

The Zonai are as old as Hyrule's history and have been around since the very beginning, 10,000+ years ago.

Another reason why we don't see any Zonai survivors is cause the Sheikah killed them all. They are described as a savage, magic weilding, war-like tribe so it's possible that they were either posing a threat to civilizations by attacking them, or were on the edge of rebelling against the Sheikah, their creators. They may have killed them all after the events of the first Calamity and their forced exile. The Zinai could have been considered part of the Sheikah technology, so as an effort to appease the King, the Sheikah killed them.

Somewhat relating to the above, if the Zonai were treated as technology made by the Sheikah, then they wouldn't have out right killed them, but rather hid them, like they did with all their other techy stuff. The Sheikah wanted to be able to use them again if need be, so instead of killing them, they embedded their souls into the Luminous Stones, and would use as a last resort. Emphasis on the last resort, as being an experiment made by them, the royal family wouldn't know about them. If they were as savage as they are made out to be, the Sheikah would be wary of releasing them, in fear they would attack or rebel again.

The Zonai armor does a poor job of showing us what the Zonai actually looked like back then. The skull headpiece isn't a skull of an actual Zonai, but rather an ancient monster that used to roam Hyrule. Similar to ancient civilizations, war-like people would wear skulls, bones or fur of animals they hunted or even human bones as a way to scary off anyone who dares to fight them, wearing the bones and fur as trophies and signs of strength. The clothing that comes with the Zonai armor has heavily deteriorated from thousands upon thousand of years.

The Zonai were not humans but rather a mix of human and monster. They have a human-ish body but with monster-like features, strength, magic, height, ect... Looking at the tapestry, I personally don't think the original Champions depicted on there look like the races that would pilot them in the future.

Anyway I'd like to hear your theories about the Zonai, weather you just think an idea is cool or you have solid evidence to back it up.

[wisdomrays]

QUESTIONS & ANSWERS: What is the willpower and how are we being tested with it?: Part 2

At that moment, such a question may come to your minds: “Are we not going to pass this test with our willpower again?” Yes, that is correct. Because of this, willpower should be ceaselessly strengthened. Prayer and appealing for pardon are two factors of vital importance. According to Bediuzzaman, “Asking forgiveness cuts off the root of one’s inclination to evil; prayer enhances one’s inclination to goodness.” Man essentially has been beset by an array of thoughts and by corporeal lust – such as eating, drinking, sleeping, getting up, and all other feelings. Humans are so surrounded by lust, that even just a single step could plunge a person into incredible depths of sin. In fact, to interpret the lust stated in the hadith merely as the attraction one feels for the opposite gender, as some people do, is not true. Here, lust bears a much more general and universal reference. In accordance with such a general and universal comment, gambling, drinking alcohol, and adultery are considered as varying dimensions of lust. If one is trapped by one of these variances of lust, he or she shall probably be hunted by his or her carnal soul, and one day he or she may totally become a slave to it. You see, begging for pardon against all of these shall become a spell cutting off any kind of evil and inclination towards evil.

To clarify a little bit further, we could say that the particular apology that shall cut off the inclination to evil requires a deep repentance for the sins of the past, preservation of the present legitimate path, a particular determined attitude towards the probable sins of the future, and resolution in that determination … Plus, one has to stress this resolution all the time; in other words, one ought to feel and sense his or her orientation towards God in his or her conscience to the fullest degree.

As of the prayer enhancing one’s inclination towards goodness, we may point out some verses from the Qur’an, like: “Your Lord has said: ‘Pray to Me, (and) I will answer you’” (40:60); “And when (O Messenger) My servants ask you about Me, then surely I am near: I answer the prayer of the suppliant when he prays to Me” (2:186).

In other words, God Almighty might mean something like, “my servants shall in no way fall in despair, as I am closer to them than their own carotid is; if they are not able to practice actual prayer, they may do it verbally; if they are still unable, they shall gravitate their hearts to Me; that is, if they are not satisfied with their verbal utterances, they may sail themselves away to the vastness of their consciences and recite something like, ‘O my beloved Lord! I have asked for Your help on that issue with 30–40 sentences. In fact, I am sure that I have not asked for so many things that must actually be asked from You, and that surely Prophets, the Purified souls, saints, the close and the distinguished ones have asked from You. I may have not known them, comprehended them, and asked for them. Now, I am taking all those holy wishes and prayers into consideration, and getting oriented towards You, with all my soul, one more time, touching the handle of Your Door of Mercy, and moaning.’”

Yes, we should keep our zeal as vast as possible, and should not go to the door of our Lord as if going to someone lacking wealth or power. In contrast, we should go in with an air that we apply to the Owner of Infinite Wealth whose treasure would not be lessened even though He bestowed us a Paradise every day. Besides, as stated in a verse, “my Lord would not care for you were it not for your prayer” (25:77), one of the significant aspects of man is his or her orientation towards God by means of prayer.

Other practices of worship may not be as sincere as a sincere prayer or invocation, since they are open to hidden or apparent showing-off. And still some others may be practiced in a kind of compulsion within the frame of ostensible causes. A sincere prayer, indeed, is like a weapon man falls back on when all the causes in the physical world are exhausted. Causes are never appealed along prayers. In a way, it is closed to hidden or apparent kinds of showing-off. Thanks to prayer, man gets oriented to his or her beloved Lord in a particular place where no one else is present, opens his or her hands, lays him or herself flat for prostration, and keeps begging, and washing his or her prayer rug with tears. You see, it is this prayer said on this line that shall enhance the inclination to goodness; that is, that shall empower one’s will power in terms of doing good. In fact, God’s Messenger, peace and blessings be upon Him, begged forgiveness 70 or 100 times a day, according to varying reports. In all the phases of His blessed life, in different times and places, from the moment a rooster crowed to the time of putting on something new, He always prayed for each occasion.

Let us close with a poem by Yunus Emre.

So incapable has the cruel carnal soul made me,

It is unable to be saturated with joys of that world.

Its eyes are blinded by the shirt of unawareness,

It does not notice life is passing away.

O my Lord, how do you call those wearing the shirt of unawareness,

Do you indeed call those yielding to carnal soul as “believers”?

Those keeping earning but spending in vain

Unable to donate even a penny for God’s sake.

O my Lord, alert my eyes from unawareness,

so that I shall not be ashamed in your Divine Dwelling.

Yunus says, do listen to me and do what I say:

Those loving the world cannot find the Hereafter.

[codyfernmorelikedaddyfern]

Consume. Worship. Reward. - Sojourn!Michael x fem!reader

Back at it again. I can’t have “Michael” and “smut” in the same sentence without having breeding kink and I think it says a lot about the person that I am.

Description: After pleading for a sign on what to go next, Michael follows the scent trailed by his father to a Satanic Church where he meets Madeleine and ultimately, the source of the intoxicating scent, her daughter (Y/N).

Warning: blood, sacrifice, people eating out hearts and shit. Smut, Breeding!kink, Sub!Michael, SoftDom!Reader, chocking, unprotected sex (Don’t knock it ‘till you wrap it).

Word count: 2998

As he sat in the pentagram he had carved in the dirt floor, the corpse of the dark furred goat by this knees, a whisper repeated itself in his ear. “Worship”. “Consume”. “Reward”. The voice was deep and hoarse. The voice of his father. Images and scents brushed his mind and nose. The features that shambled before his eyes dissipated but the scent remained. “Worship” he heard again, the fragrance settling finally on a specific smell that had never imbued his nostrils before and it was intoxicating.

 Like a desperate predator, he followed the trail. His tired legs carried him through the woods then on the pavement and then against concrete. Michael wasn’t sure how long he had sat on the dirt floor and he had no clue about the distance he had just walked. The scent carried him to the strangest place, a dark alleyway simply marked by an upside down cross. Maybe the Satanic Church he was being lured to carried the answers to his question.

 “Are you lost?” the raspy voice of a man asked the young boy. He simply shrugged, a small smile spreading across his features. Michael watched the stranger open a door he was guarding, and the scent carried him through it, leading him down.

Chants and words came to his ears and the smell he had been following brought the small tears he was carrying in his eyes to tumble down his cheeks. Mike listened to the red priestess bullshit her way through her speech and the gentle figure of the woman next to him struck a conversation with him after noticing the terrifying state he brought himself into.

 The divine scent came from her. At least, something very similar. Next thing he knew, he was sitting at her dinner table, trying to explain to the older woman that she was waiting for the end in vain.

“I’m the one you’re waiting for” his voice was gravely and husky. Madeleine launched towards him, the blade of her knife pressed against the dirty skin of his skin. “How dare you blaspheme?!” her voice rang all the way upstairs. “Before you kill me, dear believer. See me” he shouted back at her. The sound of the clattering that Madeleine dropped to the ground made her daughter freeze in her bedroom.

 The steps of (Y/N)’s feet carrying her down the stairs were shushed by a loud “Hail Satan” coming from her mother. But Michael did not fail to notice the how intense the smell his father had gifted to him, so strong in fact that it was nearly sickening.

The young girl, not older than 17, tried to hide at the bottom of the stairs but his eyes was already planted on her. Her legs trembled as Michael stood up, the words of his father loud again in his ears. “Reward. Consume. Worship”. Madeleine climbed up to her feet, noticing the rising tension searing the air between both bodies.

 The features he had been bestowed with became clear. His Lilith stood in front of him and he would be her Samael. “Michael, this is my daughter, (Y/N). She is one of us” the mother stuttered while she watched her little girl step forward, mystically drawn closer to the boy. The dim light shrouded her features, exposing his vision to become reality before himself.

Michael’s head broke the gaze, his face turning sharply to Madeleine. “Your daughter, you said?” he asked, his chest bloated with a newfound vigour. It now made sense why her mother carried such a similar sent to the one he had been hunting. The woman nodded, unaware of what in Heaven of Hell was electrifying the air. His attention turned to (Y/N) again and he closed the void between their bodies. Michael’s hand gingerly laced with the young girl’s one and he brought her knuckles to his lips to plant a soft kiss to it.

 “Do I know you?” her soft voice spoke, pushing a contempt groan from her Samael’s throat. Music to his ears. “My soul knows yours, that I am sure of” the Antichrist answered, his lips still hovering above her knuckles. He looked back at Madeleine, his features as still as he could while he felt his body being consumed by something new.

“I need you to bring us to the church right now.” He demanded. The older woman give him a questioning look. Her trembling voice asked him why exactly he required to go back at such a late time. (Y/N) could not detach her eyes from the young boy standing in front of her, the drumming of her heart causing her breathing to grow more and more irregular. It was as if she had been made for him and the thought of it caused her skin to tingle.

 “We must get married at once” Michael ordered. Both women grew cold. “Your daughter is who precisely what I came here to find. A reward from my father”. (Y/N)’s lower lip was quickly pulled between her teeth as if her thoughts were only being reinforced by his words. “But you are the Antichrist, you could have anyone” Madeleine tried to convince him. The words she had just spoke made her daughter’s fingers tremble in Michael’s grip which he did not fail to notice. His blue gaze melted in hers before his hand moulded to her cheek. “There is nothing to be afraid of, my dove” he reassured her, his thumb drawing circles on her cheek.

“Anything for our Dark Lord” the young girl answered to her mother’s dismay. “Let’s get you cleaned up before” the mother whispered, ushering the boy upstairs and instantly starting to run him a bath, leaving the boy alone to handle himself.

 “Y/N, are you crazy?” her mother whispered, shaking her daughter’s shoulders. “You have only met the boy, you can’t marry him!” she continued, trying to knock her out of her trance. “Mom, I don’t know what’s happening. It feels like I finally have a purpose” she confessed, tears breaking through her lashes. “I can’t help but being drawn to him” she continued. When the door opened to a freshened up Michael, she jumped to her feet, her heart racing once more. Breaking free from the embrace of her mother, she stood still while the Boy Wonder walked his way down the stairs.

“Michael, are you sure this is right?” Madeleine tried once more. His cold stare was good enough of an answer and she quickly grabbed the large cape from the peg behind the door to wrap it around the boy while her daughter slipped her own around her shivering body.

 The sky had broken into a storm, heavy rain pouring in the street of LA as Madeleine engulfed both of the teenagers in the back of her car. (Y/N) was trembling in the cold weather and Michael immediately reached for her hands, his eyes fishing for ours. “I apologies for having to rush this, my love” he softly whispered, tenderly caressing her cold hands in his warm ones. “It’s okay, I would do anything for our saviour” she replied, her mother quickly driving down the roads with a sigh.

Michael’s fingers did not let go of his Lilith’s hands, gently warming them as best as he could. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of him. It was like fate.

 Pulling out an umbrella, Madeleine hushed both of the teenagers back through the church right in time to interrupt the blood sacrifice that was about to take place. “Reward” rumbled through Michael again as the older woman exposed his identity. His eyes fell into (Y/N)’s ones as he held onto her hand, walking her down the aisles. “Worship” he heard again.

 “Dear believers, I am Michael Langdon and I am the Antichrist. And this woman by my side has been chosen by my father to stand by my side through the remodelling of humanity in his image”. The cheers and “Hail Satan” escaping the crowd did not matter to the girl because the only thing she could do was look at Michael with enamoured eyes, her heart quickening every time he would look back at her.

The Antichrist turned to the red priestess before speaking again. “Make us husband and wife right this second” he ordered before placing his attention to (Y/N) again.

 Carefully operating the ceremony, the Red Priestess spoke clearly, uniting both of the lost soul under the watchful eye of Michael’s father. The thunder was raging outside and Michael kept on hearing the same words over and over. “Worship. Reward. Consume”. (Y/N) kept her gaze on him, the wind constantly being knocked out of her lungs. She couldn’t hear anything over the drumming beat of her heart and when the two innocent souls that were due to be sacrificed were brought before them, it was the first time she broke her trance of looking at Michael.

His hand forcefully plunged deep within the cavity of the man’s ribcage, withdrawing his fists as he clutched on the heart of his victim, letting his body fall limp to the ground. Bringing the leaking organ up to his lip, he plunged his teeth through the muscle, sectioning a bit and smearing crimson across his face. Michael then gently brought it to his bride’s mouth who mirror his gesture after placing her hands over his blood soaked fingers.

 Swallowing the piece of flesh with hesitation, her gaze retrieved her Samael’s eyes and he tenderly smiled at her. The candles fluttered as if a heavy wind blew through the room. He despatched the heart to the floor, slumping against the corpse of it’s own, then wrapped his hands against the small face of (Y/N), pulling her blood stained lips to his to share a burning kiss.

Her frame unravelled under him and the audience praised the couple with “Ave Satanas” and “Hail Satan” while their Lilith and Samael’s embrace deepened with a low groan. “Consume”. Michael wrapped his hand under (Y/N)’s knees, pulling her up against her chest, not letting go of the soft texture of her lips against hers. Her hands found their place behind his neck, tightly holding onto the Antichrist.

 Lightning struck once more and finally, their lips parted but their eyes remained planted into each other’s. “Consume” rang again, this time louder. His gaze went to retrieve the Red Priestess’ and she gingerly guided him to the back chambers of the church. Michael followed, his tight grip keeping his wife to his chest.

“Take as long as you need, My Lord” she mumbled as she walked out of what looked like a bedroom. The door closed behind the soon to be lovers and Michael gently placed his bride to the ground before locking the door.

 (Y/N) stood still, gathering her hands in front of her. A shiver consumed her skin when Michael’s hands discarded the cloak covering her frame only to dive under her tee shirt, pulling the fabric off of her chest. His lips rewarded her with a few tender kisses against her shoulders. With his torso pressed against her back, his warmth melted into her. “Have you been with another man” his voice made many more goose pumps erupts on her body. Sheepishly nodding while Michael pried the straps of her bra off of her before he could unclasp it and leave it to litter the floor.

Her Samael buried his nose against her gentle neck, taking a deep waft of her scent once more. So sickly sweet. “Have you been with another woman” (Y/N) softly ask, earning another growl from her husband. “No, but I have been with a man before” he simply answered before belting his arms around her waist, unbuttoning the black pair of jeans she was wearing, having the fabric glide down the soft flesh of her legs. His fingers ignited burning trails on her skin while removing her trousers and he rewarded her once more with a soft kiss, right above the waistband of her panties.

Discarding her shoes, socks and trousers in a clumsy few movements, (Y/N) was not rendered to a shivering mess only clad in her underwear. “Would you do me the honour of laying on the bed, darling?” he spoke against the small of her back. With a little nod, she climbed up the mattress, laying on her back, offering herself to him, at his mercy.

 (Y/N)’s eyes darker while she watched Michael discard his clothes before crawling his way back to her, pressing his incredibly warm body against hers. “Would you allow me to consume you now, my dove?” he finally whispered against the shell of her ears. A gentle whimper escaped his bride and she placed her small hands on his hips, bringing his pelvis closer and slipping her fingers under the waistband of his underwear in a poor attempt to remove them.

 Michael softly scoffed. “Someone is eager” he teased, his tongue licking a wide and hot trail from her collarbone to her jaw. He watched her extend her neck, silently begging for more and he could not refuse the invitation, pushing another wet strip of his saliva on her throat.

 “Do you realise what consuming you entail, little dove, his voice made her shake once more.

- What is it, my love?

- By honouring you, you will allow me to put a child in you. Carry my legacy to the new age of mankind. Have you swell with my offspring. Breed you”

 The more he spoke, the more she tried to push her hips up against his to meet his hardening length still caged in his boxers. He softly chuckled and propped himself up to see her lip trapped between her teeth, cheeks flushed and eyes closed. “Anything for the Dark Lord” was good enough of an answer to his question for him to finally discard the last article of clothing still covering their modesty.

A deep growl escaped his lips as he sheathed himself inside of her, her throat exuding the most alluring mewl Michael could have ever fathomed. “Let me carry you seed, Michael” (Y/N) tenderly moaned as he stilled himself, deep inside of her cunt.

 “You won’t have to tell me twice, darling” he concluded before beginning a gentle rhythm within her. Violence could be reserved to the witches and the rest of the world. Tenderness and care would be reserved for the wife he had panting beneath him. “Worship” he heard again. Michael’s fingers explored, caressed and stroked every inches of (Y/N)’s skin, having her writhing at his touch, her hips rolling up to meet his with a gentler whimper. The antichrist’s lips lost themselves against her mouth, drinking in her mewls and moans as his cock brushed broad strokes against the sensitive spots on her walls.

“Harder please” she whimpered, causing him to stop. “My love, I cannot. I am too afraid to hurt you” he looked deeply into her eyes, his fingers softly caressing her cheek. “Then let me lead, Michael” her voice demanded. The boy’s shoulder dropped and he allowed himself into submission, letting his lover flip their bodies around to have her hips straddle his. Her hair was now wild as she started to push her pelvis up above his before lowering to meet his.

 “Fuck me, please” Michael’s voice spoke, nearly begging. “Take that baby from me, my dove” he then whimpered. Adjusting her hands against his chest to help her thrusts, she started bouncing above her lover, the sensual burn of their passionate throes ripping moans and grunt out of their throats and filling the room.

Digging her nails in his skin, the Antichrist found himself a whining mess under his lover. His fingers found a perch on her hips and her hands quickly pushed them up to her breasts before hooking her hand behind his head and pulling him against her.

Her walls gently fluttered against the veins of his cock as tendrils of arousal coiled inside of her belly, working herself up to her own climax. (Y/N)’s hand snaked in Michael’s hair before tugging his head back, her eyes planted in his while she pulled on his golden locks. His tongue brushed his lips as he moaned her name on ends before gently begging her for “More”, hoarse and husky breaths heaving out of his chest. The succulent arms of his climax started to claw at his loins while his wife was splitting herself on his cock.

 A harsher tug caused his eyes to roll back, darkening unnaturally to two pitch black orbs. “Take it, please” he begged once more, his voice rendered to broken whimpers, feeling himself become more and more vulnerable to the newfound feelings that was unfolding from deep within his chest.

(Y/N) wrapped her other hand around his large throat, earning a surprised look from him. The thrusting of her hips became halted and sloppy as she felt the tightening coil in the stomach ever so close from snapping. She harshly pushed her hand against his throat harder, pinning her Samael against the mattress, clutching tighter at the side of his neck, nearly stopping him from breathing. The sight of him rendered to such a submissive mess push her own climax shook through her body, her cunt tightening and gripping at Michael’s cock.

 The shuddering of her walls against him brought the antichrist to his own release. His hands launched for her hips, pushing his own up to bury himself as deep as possible between her folds while he spilled his seed inside of her core with an array of moans and pleads. (Y/N)’s gentle fingers stopped their assault on his throat as she slowly came down from her release, Michael quickly pulling her soft figure against him.

 “Reward” his father spoke again as her Samael held his Lilith tight against his sticky chest. “We’re now bonded for life” the Antichrist spoke to his bride, silently promising his soft spoken wife a life of worshipping, consuming and rewarding.

_________________________________________________________

Tagging : @hecohansen31​ & @blakewaterxx​

Just let me know if you would like to be tagged whenever I post a piece!

[onceabluemoonwrites]

Flower-Crowned (Real Gods Require Blood)

Title:  Flower-Crowned (Real Gods Require Blood) Author: OnceABlueMoon Rating: T Pairing: Hibari Kyouya/Kozato Enma/Sawada Tsunayoshi Tags/Warnings: A little bit of blood

Prompt: Sky day: old gods au and scars for @khrrarepairweek

Summary: A high-pitched giggle cuts through the darkness like the flash of a knife in the low light of the city hall. ‘’Brother, oh, brother, give me your wreath! I want to wear it, upon my pretty head!’’ 

Tsunayoshi’s breath hitches, noiselessly whirling up, hair and robes send flying as rose-petal lips are bitten. Picked up by the wind, he eddies through the air. 

He doesn’t know why she’s after him, but to wait for Mami-No-Face, Cherry-child the Blood thirsty, is akin to suicide. 

Her name is in the wind, and god, it is chills to the bone. 

AO3 link

“All gods who receive homage are cruel. All gods dispense suffering without reason. Otherwise they would not be worshipped. Through indiscriminate suffering men know fear and fear is the most divine emotion. It is the stones for altars and the beginning of wisdom. Half gods are worshipped in wine and flowers. Real gods require blood.”  ― Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God

 There is a sleepy little town in the corner of his heart, the place where his mother birthed him. It is the heart of the earth, the place where all Gods existify, begin as all things began once.

Lying here, on the forest floor, staring up at stars not his, Tsunayoshi is at peace. His hair is his bed, and if he covers his ears softly, hands like leaves just fallen, for a second, they are his mothers.

His mama was the Earth, his papa just had good luck, and his mama loved him so much she died with him. Such is the way of the immortal- not even the divine heart is undying. Taking a mortal lover comes with risks.

It is night and the forest wakes, from the top of the trees, to the roots in the earth, mighty, sleepy, answering the call of the moon in a hum so ancient few can hear but all, oh, all can feel.

Mist rises, drifting.

A high-pitched giggle cuts through the darkness like the flash of a knife in the low light of a city hall.  ‘’Brother, oh, brother, give me your wreath! I want to wear it, upon my pretty head!’’

Tsunayoshi’s breath hitches, noiselessly whirling up, hair and robes send flying as rose-petal lips are bitten. Picked up by the wind, he eddies through the air.

He doesn’t know why she’s after him, but to wait for Mami-No-Face, Cherry-child the Bloodthirsty, is akin to suicide.

Her name is in the wind, and god, it chills to the bone.

She reaches out and touches him. It burns, by god, does her curse burn him. Her claws dig into his skin, but he manages to free himself just before she can cut into it. Bruises he can bear- his blood at her altar he cannot. She makes a grab for the wreath, but he’s already gone, heart beating in his throat and her true name echoing through his head. Her form, caked in the blood of her victims, and her head, a void without a face to be seen, make him shiver.

He runs the only way he can, through air, with his long, brown hair made for nesting birds piled up in his arm as not to hurt its inhabitants, other hand clutching the wreath to his head.

He can’t lose it- it’s the last part of his mama he has and Tsunayoshi wears it with pride.

His feet gently touch the bark of the tree as not to harm it- but why does the wind not carry him further? He nudges at it with his feet, and it nudges back until he’s seated, feet neatly tucked under him, almost pressed against the tree.

What-

…There is no moonlight. There is no moonlight, but there are no clouds.

It is new moon.

Tsunayoshi shivers.

A burst of fire catches his attention- there, to his right, the branches part, showing the clearing beneath perfectly.

Flickering flames dancing, the long grass weaving, cold night air clashing with a single source of heat. The den of a god. And oh, oh, oh. What a sight it is. From the centre of the flames, the deity rises.

Naked, he is, all long planes of dark, coal skin, shoulders broad, mouth gaping, eyes piercing embers of glowing fire, his hair waves upon waves of flickering flames.

He smoulders.

The god is so bright, yet so pitch-black, that Tsunayoshi gasps when his eyes fall upon the man behind him, the wind carrying the sound away quick, quick, quickly- but never fast enough.

The man, a second deity, wraps himself around the god made up out of glowing embers, all white skin and sinuous long limbs, riveting his eyes upwards. Eyes grey as the sky when storming meet Tsunayoshi’s. He knows this god. Tsunayoshi startles so badly that he falls down.

‘’Who dares to enter?’’ The white one, the skylark, flies forward, limb and feathers shifting constantly. They gleam, in the firelight, oil-heavy.

‘’…I mean no ill, Hibari-no-mikoto.’’

Claws wrap around his throat. ‘’Do you think I care, wreath-child?’’

‘’…Wreath god, Hibari-no-mikoto.’’

‘’You’ll be a dead god, trespasser.’’

Tsunayoshi’s breath speeds up, the mice in his robes squeak and the birds in his hair chirp angrily at Hibari-no-mikoto.

‘’Please leave him alone, Kyoya, he carries little ones, don’t you see?’’ The one burnished in fire- Enma, Enma-Magma-Made- reaches out, but stops just short of touching Tsunayoshi, belatedly remembering his life-destroying heat.

The winged god scoffs, pecking angrily. ‘’He himself is nothing but a fool for showing up here. A little one when he should not be, a coward, hiding in lion skin. Real gods require blood. He’s just wine and flowers. I don’t get how you can stand him near when you know he could long have demanded a blood sacrifice. He need not live a half-life as a half-god, and yet he does. I bear no cowards in my pantheon.’’

Enma-Magma-Made’s face shifts. It’s a strange sight to see, the flow of lava upon his body changing direction to form his frown. His eyes, embers, smoulder with regret. ‘’You know that I’d rather have remained a half-god too, if I could.’’

Hibari-no-mikoto snarls at that. ‘’You killed in cold blood, demanded blood sacrifice and it was for the better! Your family’s killer is now dead, your sister avenged, and only a real god has the power to do so. You know better than to-‘’ His eyes land on Tsunayoshi, and he stops talking abruptly. ‘’What, you got nothing better to do than watching a random lover’s spat?!’’

‘’It’s just- she chased me here.’’ Tsunayoshi nearly sobs, digging his nails into his palms to keep from crying. Of all the gods to meet at a night like this…

Then again, Hibari-no-mikoto is far preferable to Mami-No-Face.

‘’I need help. Somethi-‘’ Tsunayoshi stops. He may not be able to called Mami by her name, he cannot betray her like that, and an abomination she must be to all except himself, but she is no thing and he shall not refer to her as such. ‘’Someone is hunting me. They are hurt, and they need to be healed, and please, please help me.’’

‘’You should ask someone else, then,’’ the flame-haired man stares down at his coal-black, burning fingers. ‘’I destroy everything I touch- I’m no help.’’

‘’Oh. I… I’ll see myself out then. I thank you.’’

And he walks away, lifting his hair up as not to disturb its inhabitants. He’s not sure how to keep ahead of Mami-No-Face now, but he’s sure that Enma-Magma-Made’s burning will at least make her circle around for quite a bit.

He’s not even ten meters away when he hears a sigh and the rustling of feathers. A shadow passes over him.

‘’Wha- What is it, Hibari-no-mikoto?’’

The bird-man perched in the tree above him narrows his eyes. ‘’He can’t accompany you, but I can. You’re lucky I care for the centre of the earth, wreath-child.’’

Tsunayoshi feels his moss quickly covering his arms underneath his robes as if to add an extra layer of protection against Hibari-no-mikoto.

A considering look passes over the bird god's face. ‘’Hmm… this might be less onerous then I thought it would be. Your hair seems like an excellent place to nap, herbivore.’’

And just like that, Hibari somersaults out of the tree, transforming into a bird mid-flight. A flurry of black, brown, edged white, the skylark’s bird form is revealed. With a huff a bird shouldn’t be able to produce, he nests decidedly into Tsunayoshi’s hair, right next to the little yellow ball of fluff he picked up a month ago.

…Tsunayoshi has no idea what is happening, but he still has his life and his flower crown, so it will be all right.

…Perhaps after he’s stopped shivering.

~~

It’s been about an hour when he hears her blood-curdling laughter again. ‘’Brother, oh, brother, give me your wreath! I want to wear it, upon my pretty head!’’

Breath speeding up, Tsunayoshi runs faster, not sure whether he should run toward or away from her. In his hair, Hibari stirs. He speaks, though how Tsunayoshi does not know, for he still has the beak of a skylark. It must be the ways of the true gods- after all, Tsunayoshi is only a half-god. ‘’Mami-No-Face, Cherry-child the Blood Thirsty? She’s the one hunting you, wreath-child? Why don’t you use her as your first blood sacrifice? Perhaps you’d be a better challenge as a full god.’’

Tsunayoshi scowls up at him, but is careful not to move his head too much, not wanting to wake the other animals up. Stinging nettles grow along his ears defensively. ‘’My mother birthed me into this world a half-god, and it’s hard, I won’t lie to you, oh feathered one, but tonight is not the night I shall be blooded!’’ He clutches at the wreath in his hair. ‘’Mami-No-Face can under no circumstance get my wreath. It was my mother’s, it’s the last thing I have of her, and it bestowed upon me a curious gift. Whoever touches me, it matters not, for I shall know their true name.’’

Hibari-no-mikoto snarls. ‘’You know power greater than the most, and still, you cower in your childhood hide? You were made to be a lion. You are the last earth deity, now grow! Enma-Magma-Made still suffers, alone and far too hot, the centre of the earth without an earth to wrap around him. You have responsibilities, quit running from them!’’

Tsunayoshi laughs at him. ‘’I did not even know you were waiting on me, oh Feathered one! It’s not as if anyone would sacrifice to me blood instead of wine and flowers. I can’t become a full god until I’m blooded, and it certainly won’t be happening tonight! Mami-No-Face may be bloodthirsty, may reek of blood in the wind, but she is no less a person than we are. She is cursed, nothing more, nothing less, for I know her true name and it must be spoken once more. I have to heal her, Hibari-no-mikoto. Please understand that.’’

Hibari-no-mikoto spreads his wings and leaves the nest in Tsunayoshi’s hair, flying over as Mami-No-Face spots him and tries to grab him straight out of the air. Her dirty, blood crusted hands look like claws in the moonless night, and Tsunayoshi knows them to be just as sharp. ‘’Brother, oh, brother, give me your wreath! I want to wear it, upon my pretty head!’’

Hibari-no-mikoto crows in victory, knowing something that Tsunayoshi does not. ‘’Thrice she has called for you now! And once I have seen her visage. No less than thirteen marks of Daemon the Deranged are upon her, so I know what you must do.’’

‘’What is  it?!’’ Tsunayoshi calls desperately, as Mami-No-Face catches sight of him again and dives for him, the forest only barely managing to trip her up before she gets to him.

‘’You must hold on to her for the entire night, no matter what happens. Only if you can do that, she will be given her face back upon the dawn.’’

The next time Mami-No-Face dives for him, Tsunayoshi opens his arms wide, like his mother taught him to receive the world, and he embraces her with all he has. She tries to reach up for his wreath, but her arms are pinned by his, so instead, she rakes her claws along his back. It hurts. It hurts like nothing else Tsunayoshi has ever felt, but he doesn’t let go.

Embracing her hurts. It hurts, but loving has always hurt Tsunayoshi, because small birds die so quickly, and nature works in seasons. When winter comes, all must die and sleep, and he is left alone. It is inevitable, and he must learn to live with it, no matter how much it hurts. This situation is no different.

As if she can hear the sound of his heart shattering to pieces, Mami-No-Face speaks up: ‘’Brother, brother, why do you hate me so? Why is the light so low? Brother, brother, don’t leave me alone! They have come for us, our blood and our bone!’’

She’s stuck in the past and liquid drips from her chin as if there are eyes somewhere in the void that should be her face, crying, crying her heart out.

Mami-No-Face, Tsunayoshi’s mind says. His soul screams another name. He holds on.

And so, the first three hours pass.

At the three hour mark, Mami-No-Face changes.

This time, she changes into him. Enma-Magma-Made, with his burning skin, the powerful god that Tsunayoshi has inadvertently left alone in his burning, only to be touched by the skylark, protected by his feathers. It burns. By god, it burns. Tsunayoshi is only a half-god. The world is a dangerous place for him. He is wine and flowers, and though wine contains poison, it is so easily drained, and though flowers are lovely, they die oh so quickly once cut.

Neither holds up well against flame.

He hopes at least his little critters left his hair, that he may not discover a small corpse within its confines once this is over.

The flames are agony.  Bitter tears leak out of Tsunayoshi’s eyes, but Mami-No-Face, in Enma-Magma-Made’s skin, cries no less than he does. Her fiery tears splash onto his face and it hurts, by god, it hurts, but Tsunayoshi doesn’t let go.

‘’Brother, brother, did they take your wreath? Brother, brother, did you burn up dead? I saw the fire, I saw you burn, did you die or did you turn?’’

Again she is lost in the past, looking at him and searching for someone who isn’t there- someone who Tsunayoshi isn’t even sure is alive, if her hints are any indication.

At the three hour mark, the sun comes up. It peaks above the trees, shyly coming closer, as if not entirely sure it is welcome. That is silly though, because there is nothing that has ever been more welcomed by Tsunayoshi, as the first rays of the sun touch Mami-No-Face, and release her from her curse.

For the last time, she changes. Tsunayoshi lets go, she falls down onto the earth, onto her knees and the dried blood of her victims on her body cracks and falls onto the ground, revealing her true form. Tsunayoshi can’t help but gasp at her visage.

The red hair that got her the name cherry-child stays, her small form changes to that of a slender, young girl, barely in her teenage years. What is most striking though, is that where there used to be a horrific empty space, there is now a lovely face peeking out underneath her mop of red hair. Her nose is a little upturned, freckles all over her face, two rosy cheeks, a pair of lips and two big, red eyes. Her pupils are compasses. They remind him of Enma-Magma-Made and his burning eyes, even though this girl is decidedly not on fire.

She’s crying. She’s crying with great, heaving sobs, wracking her frame and tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘’Thank you,’’ she cries, ‘’Thank you, for saving me.’’

Tsunayoshi smiles. ‘’Welcome, Mami-Earth-Loved. That you may make many cherries grow upon this wild, wild earth.’’

She laughs through her tears, bright and beautiful. ‘’Thank you, Flower-Crowned.’’ She wipes some of her tears away. ‘’Have you seen my brother? I’m afraid the Mad God Daemon got to him too. His name is Wood-child, Gravity-given.’’

Tsunayoshi shakes his head. ‘’I’m afraid that if you’re searching for an earth deity half-god you’re out of luck. As far as I know, we’re currently the only two earth children left: you and I, to be exact. ’’

Her lips tremble and her fists clench. Tsunayoshi wishes to remove the expression off her face, but he knows how precious her face must be to her, and he has laboured long and hard for her to get it back, so he leaves it be. Moss grows along his body again as if to protect himself from her hurt. ‘’If it helps, I know Magma-Made was blooded by making a sacrifice out of the Mad God. Some said he did it out of revenge, though you’d get a better story out of Hibari-no-mikoto over there.’’

Mami smiles brilliantly, tucking her hair behind her ears. ‘’Before that, though, you are still a half-god, right, Tsunayoshi-sama?’’

Tsunayoshi ducks his head, fiddling with his hair as his critters return to their nests within it. ‘’You know I am. Nobody’d mistake the aura of a measly half-god for a real one.’’

Mami bites her lip. ‘’I can’t turn back time. I can’t do anything about all the time I’ve lost, but… This is an awful lot of blood, wouldn’t you agree?’’ She points at the cracked, dried blood all around her. ‘’I may regret what I did now, but that doesn’t help me, nor does it help my victims. I want to grant them peace, if only by giving their death a purpose. So please, won’t you accept my sacrifice, Flower-Crowned? You, who were born in the existify of divinity?’’

Tsunayoshi’s back straightens as his frown deepens. ‘’Do not sacrifice to me for my birth. Sacrifice to me for my life- for my deeds, because a god does not ask for sacrifice, he demands it. Gods, real gods, require blood. Real gods are cruel. Can you see that within me?’’

Mami looks him in the eye and says: ‘’Yes. Did you not make me suffer this whole night? Did you not force me to live on, instead of just ending my struggle by cutting me down? Flower-Crowned, you may be a half-god in name, but I name you a good by the blood I have shed. Take responsibility for not taking my life, take responsibility for the fact that I have to face what I have done. I offer to you the blood of my victims, the souls of my prey, the nourishment you may take from the wretches I have slaughtered.’’

The last flake of blood cracks upon her skin and starts to fall down. Before it can hit the ground, Tsunayoshi snatches it out of the air and puts it in his mouth. It’s dry, but it still tastes of iron, and it falls apart upon his tongue. It tastes like ambrosia. It tastes like power. It tastes like divinity.

Blood- sacrificed, freely given by the one who spilt it. Sacrificed to him.

The wildlife around him bursts into bloom, the fruit in the trees rapidly ripening, bursting open and spilling their bounty across the land. It is as if colour suddenly has no meaning anymore, so bright and delirious is it around them, so true and impossibly clear.

Hibari-no-mikoto falls out of the tree, his small feathered body so easily shoved out by a growing peach, his bones hollow. He transforms mid-fall, landing in a crouch in his humanoid form like the predator he is. Tsunayoshi, drunk on his new godhood, the blood and the awed wonder on Mami’s face, can’t bring himself to be properly terrified.

This proves to be a mistake as the god stalks up to him and backs him against a tree, pinned in between two large wings, clawed hands sliding up his sides and a knee between his thighs. Tsunayoshi swallows thickly. ‘’H-Hibari-no-mikoto?’’

Hibari’s sharp beak trails along the tender skin of his throat and Tsunayoshi’s breath hitches, tilting up his chin to show the vulnerable spot off to the predator in front of him. It’s probably not smart. It’s not smart- but… Tsunayoshi has had a long evening. Hibari-no-mikoto isn’t hurting him, quite the contrary, and the little thrill that goes through his body feels good. ‘’Oh- that’s. That’s nice. Very nice.’’

Hibari-no-mikoto humms against his skin, the vibrations coming out of his beak strangely. ‘’You smell like blood,’’ beady eyes peer up at Tsunayoshi from where he’s still lodged around his body, around his throat, ‘’And I’m going to take you back with me, and my lover and I are going to take you apart until we can taste the blood on your very tongue.’’

Tsunayoshi’s pulse jumps. His heartbeat elevates. Heat moves through him at the speed of light. ‘’No- No protest here!’’

Mami clears her throat awkwardly, still standing in the middle of the clearing. ‘’Um. If I could come along? I’d like to meet Magma-Made, if you wouldn’t mind. I’ve been told he has information about the rightful killing of the Mad God Daemon?’’

Hibari’s head turns, a full 180 degrees to look at her, before he harrumphs in displeasure but acquiesces. He squeezes Tsunayoshi’s hip as he turns back. ‘’We’re continuing this later.’’

Tsunayoshi can’t help but nod furiously, gulping, the birds in his hair chirping cheerily, the frog hiding somewhere in the back croaks suggestively. Tsunayoshi flushes bright red as the wind gathers him up, off to his next destination.

Mami follows quickly behind.

~~

Enma-Magma-Made, when they return, is still in the same spot, though his burning footsteps have sunken in several places in the clearing, the path he circled in his worry obvious to see for everyone. The things is, though, that wearing anything when your body is burning isn’t exactly possible. Tsunayoshi had known this before, of course, but… Well. When you know your job as a god is preventing this god from burning the world by wrapping around him, it suddenly becomes very important. The magma sliding off his pectorals tantalizingly doesn’t exactly help either.

‘’Enma-Magma-Made!’’

The man whirls around at Tsunayoshi’s shout. His face lights up- quite literally, his glowing ember eyes are suddenly little shining suns. They crinkle as he laughs. ‘’You’re a god! A real, blooded god!’’

Tsunayoshi, in his elation, can’t help but whoop and fly at him, driven by the wind. His arms are around Enma-Magma-Made’s neck, and the god swings him around. Nothing burns. Nothing hurts. Enma’s made of magma, and yet, his embrace is exactly where Tsunayoshi belongs. The birds in his hair chirp happily and flowers bloom all over his body.

Behind them, a choked gasp sounds. ‘’Enma?!’’

Carefully putting Tsunayoshi down, Enma-Magma-Made looks up and faces Mami. ‘’Mami?! B- But you’re dead!’’

Mami smiles at him, a little brokenly. ‘’Cursed is more like it. I’m so glad you’re alive, a little part of our family left untouched. Or well, as untouched as one can be when blooded.’’ She reaches for her brother to embrace him.

Mami is Enma’s sister? Woah. Which would mean Enma’s half-god name was Wood-child, Gravity-given. Previously an earth-god indeed, before he became the centre of the earth.

‘’Oh, I can’t-‘’ Enma waves with his hands, his fiery, burning hands. ‘’You’re a half-god. I’ll burn you.’’

‘’Don’t we have a solution to that now?’’ Hibari-no-mikoto drawls as he flies down from above, taking his seat on one of Enma’s shoulders. Tsunayoshi’s impressed that he fits on a single shoulder in his humanoid form, but then again, Enma’s shoulders are very broad. And nicely shaped. Tsunayoshi blushes.

Hibari-no-mikoto must have hollow bones even in his humanoid form, because Enma doesn’t seem burdened by it at all. Or perhaps it’s simply that stone- even magma- doesn’t budge for anything. It’s a good sight to see, though, especially when Hibari-no-mikoto starts fussing with Enma’s flaming hair, pecking at it as if he can reign in the flames. He won’t succeed, Tsunayoshi knows, but it is a sweet gesture nonetheless. It makes something warm inside him bloom.

‘’We do have a solution for that now.’’ Tsunayoshi smiles, walking forward and touching Enma’s chest. A small layer of earth covers his magma, leaving only his face free, and quickly afterwards, flowers begin to bloom out of the earth covering his body.

Enma’s face softens. ‘’Thank you,’’ he whispers tenderly.

‘’Yes, yes, thank you, glad I don’t have to see my brother’s bits bared for the world to see.’’ Mami says behind them. Enma’s cheeks burst into fire.

He shakes it off though, and walks forward to her. For the first time in years and years, Enma-Magma-Made touches someone who is not a full god, and they do not burn. For the first time in years and years, Mami-Earth-Loved feels safe. For the first time in years and years, a brother and sister embrace each other.

Tsunayoshi is ready to begin his new life, his new grand love affair, but watching the siblings reunite… It’s beautiful. His new adventure can wait a minute. What is a minute, after all, to an eternity?