#he made golems with his blood

[let-me-iiiiiiiin]

Hehehe....... Abyss bingmei and siren pretending to be shizun animatic, part 2 💖 very very abrupt tone shift

Link to part 1

[yaeggravate]

Is Capitano Anfortas Alberich?

Hiii, I have been losing my mind over this for months, and I needed to share my findings all in one place.

This might get debunked in a few weeks but until then there is actually a very high chance Capitano is Anfortas. …And not just because his constellation is a giant arrow pointing straight at him.

WARNING: This contains spoilers for the World Quest Shadows of the Mountains.

UPDATE (5.1): WE WON 🎉🥳

UPDATE (5.3): welp turns out i was wrong. well, i'll leave the ghost of a more interesting timeline here

As a refresher, Anfortas was the Knight Marshal of the Schwanenritter (German for Swan Knights), a Khaenri'ahn warrior band who went on to protect Sumeru from the onslaught of the "Dark Beasts" during the Cataclysm. The giant Ruin Golems scattered in the forest and desert of Sumeru were piloted by them.

Barely-Legible Bulletin In view of King Irmin's present indisposed state and the current unknown threats facing the Kingdom……Knight Marshal Anfortas has proclaimed that he will temporarily take up the post of Regent and lead the Regnum Concilium Ultimum until the Kingdom returns to a state of normalcy…

At some point, King Irmin became indisposed (unable to rule), which made Anfortas step in as a temporary regent until the Kingdom returned to a state of normalcy. (Didn't age well.)

Mysterious Box in a Secret Compartment: The writings are as follows: "Remember always that it was the Alberich Clan, who did not have royal blood, who stepped in as regents when the strength of the one-eyed king Irmin failed."

This is further confirmed in Kaeya's secret notes from the Hidden Strife event which implies Anfortas is part of the Alberich clan.

Later, Anfortas was betrayed by his comrade Hadura. He fought and executed them, losing his left eye in the process. With Hadura, the last of his comrades, gone, the Schwanenritter are no more.

The ultimate fate of Anfortas is currently unknown as is his exact relation to Kaeya and Chlothar. Whether or not Anfortas is Kaeya's father/uncle/grandfather/secret older brother is not the point of this post.

This is specifically about the connection between Capitano and Anfortas.

I will start by listing the reasons why he could be Capitano and then consider the reasons why he's not.

THE THREE NAILS

Capitano's constellation is likely the three nails which is a reference to the crucifixion of Jesus.

Triclavianism is the belief that three nails were used to crucify Jesus Christ.

I do believe it belongs to Capitano, since he said he would pick up the mantle of "salvation" and is in the nation where people can be resurrected. …Needless to say, we can assume there's not going to be 50 plot twists behind this.

The three nails symbolize salvation and redemption, as well as the suffering of Jesus. You can also think of it as a symbol of martyrdom.

Anfortas is named after the Fisher King from Arthurian legends, who guarded the Holy Grail. The Fisher King was cursed by an incurable wound, stuck between life and death, doomed to suffer for eternity. There are several versions of the legend, with differing names for the Fisher King, "Anfortas" being one of them.

As it happens, the Fisher King is likened to Jesus on the cross quite prominently, both in art and on stage.

Carman explores the use of Christian symbolism in Perlesvaus. He connects the Fisher King with Christ himself, noting his name, Messios, his function as a sufferer, and his death symbolizing the Crucifixion.

In the version of Wagner, he even gets stabbed by the Holy Spear in the same side as Jesus while he was crucified!

Parzival became the primary source for Richard Wagner's 1882 opera Parsifal, in which the Fisher King is wounded by the spear that pierced Jesus's side.

As if that wasn't enough, one of Anfortas' knights left a note inside a Ruin Golem. They state they don't know whether they will be seen as sinners or heroes but believe Anfortas will find a way to save them.

An Abandoned Letter ...I often think lately about how future generations will tell my story. Will I be a sinner? Or a hero......The situation here is dire, but I believe that our Marshal will find a way. I believe... We once fought bravely here, doing our best to prevent this inglorious war. I believe that when it is all over... we shall recover our past splendor...Glory evermore... to Khaenri'ah...

This thematically fits the three nails. Unfortunately for this knight, Anfortas was unable to save Khaenri'ah and their people were condemned as "sinners" throughout history.

At the time of writing, Capitano says something curious in the trailer for 5.1:

Humanity's survival is worth any price If I could go back I would do whatever it took to ensure their survival. You've experienced something similar, Mavuika. You should know exactly what I mean.

Though we don't know the full context yet, this is not a surprising revelation if Capitano is Anfortas; he lost his homeland Khaenri'ah, "the pride of humankind," after all. Furthermore, he compares his suffering to that of the Pyro Archon, the ruler of Natlan. Anfortas was also briefly responsible for the survival of a nation, acting as the KING regent of Khaenri'ah.

Another incredible parallel to the Three Nails can be found in the influential poem The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot which is about the Fisher King.

The Man with Three Staves (an authentic member of the Tarot pack) I associate, quite arbitrarily, with the Fisher King himself.

In the poem Eliot associates the Fisher King with the tarot card the Three Staves.

(The Three of Wands/Staves in Thoth and Rider Waite decks.)

The poem is actually important enough to be referenced in the game a bunch of times. If you recall, in the Veluriyam Mirage event, we ran into three brothers, two of which argued in front of Kaeya and Klee. Turns out the names of these two brothers are in the poem, with the game possibly using them as stand-ins for Anfortas and Chlothar. You can read more about it here in a separate post.

My point is, since the poem is a source of inspiration, it can be assumed the writers are aware of the association of the Three Staves with the Fisher King, aka Anfortas.

If true, I think they did something really clever here by combining the Three Staves with the Three Nails.

THE BLACK SERPENT

I think most people have noticed the draconic/serpent imagery on Capitano's outfit. He has black scales, makeshift claws and a bunch of infinity symbols.

It is curious then that Capitano is essentially dressed as a black serpent/dragon.

Dainsleif: Black Serpent Knights. They once belonged to the Royal Guard of Khaenri'ah.

(...Yet unlike Capitano, the Black Serpent Knights don't look anything like black serpents.)

Little known fact is that even though Anfortas was the leader of the Schwanenritter, his knights still wore the Black Serpent armour. Ynghildr, one of the Swan Knights, turned into a Shadowy Husk that used the Windcutter model.

Mysterious Chronicles: "…Ynghildr, Schwanenritter, 'Damsel of the Dale' …Went missing in the battle against the Onslaught of Dark Beasts. Only her … and signet ring were recovered. A proper knight's funeral was arranged for her…"

(We even end up fighting her during the WQ Vimana Agama 💔.)

In the Shadows of the Mountains WQ, we find out two Khaenri'ahn knights, also using Black Serpent armour, went forth to Natlan to stop the Abyss; their sacrifice turned them into statues for 500 years. I think it's highly likely they were sent there on Anfortas' orders.

This is because one of the knights has interesting lines before and after you bring him peace:

"Irizar": "Leave! Go… I don't want him to see me— like this—" (The voice seems to come from the very depths of the unmoving statue. There is a hint of respect toward someone remaining within…)

Irizar: Did you see? Your orders have been carried out… You… won't be disappointed…

The thing is one of Anfortas' Ruin Golems is right next to Natlan.

This is also where you find the note written by the knight who worries if they'll be seen as sinners or heroes. I do not think they were ordered by Dainsleif, as his last order before he returned to the palace was "to protect the people of Khaenri'ah" while the last will of the Schwanenritter was to destroy the Cataclysm, which is an interesting contrast in itself…

Dainsleif: To this day, I still remember the final orders I, the Twilight Sword, gave to Halfdan on the day of disaster in Khaenri'ah, before I made haste back to the palace... "Inform all Black Serpent Knights to protect the people of Khaenri'ah at all costs." Zurvan: They said that those heroes (Schwanenritter) had walked their path despite the ill repute they had garnered… And that it was to carry the will those heroes had borne, and to completely destroy the disaster from the dark depths that they had followed the heroes' path to this place.

My personal speculation is that the Schwanenritter was a special division from the Black Serpent Knights. From the book Perinheri, we know there was an Alberich who was "commander of half the knights". As stated by old man Pierro himself, the reliability of this book is a bit dodgy, but this might give us a clearer vision on who was in charge.

Anyway, if those knights were sent by Anfortas, there's a chance he might have ended up in Natlan himself as they were heavily affected by the Abyss. Perhaps something funky happened to him there amidst all the chaos… who knows? If we consider the three nails and what it represents, perhaps Anfortas died; but since he's a Khaenri'ahn likely cursed with immortality and Natlan's leylines are weak, death won't come to him that easy.

One other thing: on either side of the door to Khaenri'ah, there are two reliefs that show a guardian holding a sword. As it happens, their helmets are flat and have a huge 8-pointed star in the middle... just like Capitano.

OTHER SIMILARITIES AND SUSPICIOUS BEHAVIOR 🤨

–Both Anfortas and Capitano are commanders of an army. To paraphrase @kaeyacollection, if I was Pierro, I would want someone with experience to lead my army and not some random bloodstained guy from Mondstadt, right? Pierro and Anfortas would have undoubtedly known each other as Pierro was a Royal Mage and Anfortas was part of the Royal Guard, so it wouldn't be strange for Pierro to recruit someone who he's already familiar with and can depend on.

Mocking Mask (Pierro): Since my level of learning could not compare with the sages, I failed to earn the favor of the previous ruler.

Furthermore, Pierro refers to King Irmin as the "previous ruler" which is an odd choice of words as it could either imply there is still a current ruler out there or Pierro simply acknowledged Anfortas as the last one, which has some interesting implications seeing as he only took up the position temporarily.

–Anfortas is highly respected, as shown by the note written by the knight who believed in him until the end. Someone even tried to write a letter to him begging him to petition the king. And if that knight who was sent to Natlan was referring to the Marshal, it means his main concern was that he would fail Anfortas.

Furthermore, there's a message left scattered across Ruin Guards with the encryption key being Anfortas' name…

Decoded message: We Schwanenritters have fought to the last one

We don't know who left it there, and hell it might be Anfortas himself, but whoever it was certainly valued the name. Fun fact: the achievement you get when you interact with all the Ruin Guards is called In the Name of Anfortas. This is similar to the achievement In the Name of Favonius, which you can get after completing a daily commission that indirectly involves Kaeya!

As far as we can tell, Capitano is also highly admired. Viktor would rather work for him, Varka wrote an entire love letter about him and the voicelines of the Harbingers confirm he's respectable man. (Although Wanderer and those of us who have run into Cap's animal lava farm may have some questions 🤨)

About The Captain "The ever-righteous Captain," "the brave and fearless Captain," "the nigh-invincible Captain"... Even my mechanical ears demand maintenance after listening to so many compliments from the members of the Fatui. Don't you think that possessing absolute righteousness is actually a latent danger? And that's without taking his great personal strength into account.

According to Wanderer, Capitano is seen as extremely righteous. We don't know enough about Anfortas to compare his morals with Capitano's but we do know that he executed his own comrade after a betrayal yet still gave them a proper knight's funeral since they were the last one left. This could allign with Cap's extreme righteousness and honor.

–Capitano proclaimed to the Pyro Archon that someone needs to pick up the mantle of salvation during a crisis…. which is exactly what Anfortas did. He stepped in when Irmin was busy poking holes in the veilussy of sin. Who knows? Perhaps Capitano doesn't want history to repeat itself.

–There could be another reason, though. You see, The Schwanenritter is named after the legend of the Swan Knight. These were an order of Grail Knights who would be sent out in secret to provide a ruler to a kingdom if there was none.

Members of this order are sent out in secret to provide lords to kingdoms that have lost their protectors

Furthermore, the Swan Knight had to hide his origins and name; same thing Capitano is doing.

The story of the Knight of the Swan, or Swan Knight, is a medieval tale about a mysterious rescuer who comes in a swan-drawn boat to defend a damsel, his only condition being that he must never be asked his name.

Varka: The man hides everything under the mask he wears, so no one can know his past or his origins.

–Speaking of which, when Capitano was first mentioned in Varka's letter, guess who was there to witness it?

What's funny is he doesn't even speak during this entire scene. They just forced him to stand there for seemingly no reason.

–Capitano is in Natlan. In Kaeya's hidden letters, there is a lot of fire imagery. Kaeya's father takes this even further by practically quoting Natlan's rule of resurrection. They even use the same term for ashes/embers in the original CN.

Mysterious Box in a Secret Compartment: A piece of it has been burned away, and the remaining parts show signs of having been rescued from that same flame.

Mysterious Box in a Secret Compartment: (Kaeya's father): "Though we could not restore Khaenri'ah to life, we of the Alberich Clan should lead lives as those who blaze like fire, rather than those who wallow in the embers." Dainsleif (Travail trailer, Natlan): The rules of war are woven in the womb: the victors shall burn bright, while the losers must turn to ash.

Mysterious Box in a Secret Compartment: (Kaeya): "Now that I look at it, his handwriting was as grieving as a smoking ash pile."

I don't know what to make of it and perhaps there's no deeper connection, but you have to admit, it is a little odd…

–The name Anfortas is speculated to be derived from french "enfertez" which means infirmity or weakness/illness. This is a very interesting contrast to Capitano's strong man persona. Not to mention, Capitano's commedia dell'arte counterpart is a braggart who only boasted about his strength. Who knows, perhaps Anfortano is suffering from an ailment/curse and is using whatever means he can to make himself stronger. (Such as the "presence" inside him.)

That being said, in the book Perinheri, the Alberich who was commander of half the knights was part of the "mightiest figures in Khaenri'ah".

–For some reason, Kaeya has what looks like snakeheads with a split tongue on his pants. You can also find a version of this on Capitano's outfit. …Yeah, I don't know either.

Jokes aside, Kaeya is wearing the top half of Capitano's modified Fatui coat complete with weird double flaps and fur boa. (There was a Hoyofair fananimation a year ago where the artist portrayed Anfortas with black fur which is pretty funny in hindsight.)

If Capitano isn't related to Kaeya, I'm going to need a very good explanation for why they share the same terrible fashion sense.

–Both Chlothar and Caribert have black hair and blue eyes... just like our buddy Capitano. While that's not enough to claim they're related, it is certainly a point in our favor.

–Since Pierro was original enough to give the title of "the Doctor" to a doctor, it wouldn't be too out of place for him to dub a marshal "the Captain".

–Kaeya was adopted by Crepus, who owned a Delusion. Is it really a coincidence that Kaeya was taken in by a man with ties to the Fatui? If any of the Harbingers are connected to Kaeya, Pierro (Khaenri'ahn) and Capitano (identity unknown) would be the two biggest suspects, right?

WHY CAPITANO CAN'T BE ANFORTAS…HAHA UNLESS?

–As mentioned before, Anfortas lost his left eye. From Mika's character story, we know Capitano has glowing dark blue eyes plural. However, it's unclear whether he lost his eye in the literal sense or was only blinded. It's possible Anfortas simply grew the eye back but if that's the case I don't see the point in mentioning the loss in the first place, other than to draw a parallel to Kaeya (who didn't even lose his eye either…)

–Capitano uses a strange power that looks related to Nightsoul… …Whatever it is, it could point at him being from Natlan. However, the Traveler can use Phlogiston despite not being from Natlan. We don't have Pyro Traveler yet but I suspect they will be able to use Nightsoul as well.

Mavuika also says she sensed an "unsual presence" inside Capitano. This "presence" could explain his ability to use Walmart Nightsoul and why he has knowledge on a secret oath made 500 years ago (and why he has two eyes again).

–I think it's possible Anfortas is either Kaeya's "pirate" grandpa or his father and if that's the case the chances of Capitano being playable are abyssmal 💀. However, Arthurian Anfortas was famously saved by his nephew Parzival. If they go by the legend and Parzival is the equivalent of Kaeya, Anfortas could be his uncle instead.

In any case, we'll have to wait and see where the story goes from here. Even if Anfortas isn't Capitano, he still has major relevance that has yet to be revealed. Until then, much like Anfortas and Capitano, all we can do is suffer on the cross 👍🏽

*UPDATE 5.1: CAPITANO'S LINES FROM THE AQ

"The Captain": Why...? Because I am a survivor of Khaenri'ah. I've witnessed the devastation and terror of the Abyss with my own eyes. "The Captain": That's right. My family, my comrades, my homeland... were all lost to the Abyss. It is an unforgettable pain, one that no amount of time could ever dull... not even five hundred years. "The Captain": If I could go back, I would reject all false hope. I would do whatever it took to ensure their survival.

"The Captain": That story begins with the cataclysm five hundred years ago.... I failed to save Khaenri'ah from the rampage of the Abyss. When the situation became unsalvageable, I fled to Natlan with the remainder of my platoon. "The Captain": Only to find that Natlan had fallen victim to the same tragedy. I defended this land for quite some time and, in the process, met the chief of the Masters of the Night-Wind, Ayizu. I'm sure many people viewed Khaenri'ah as the cause of the tragedy, but Ayizu was kind to me all the same, and even helped me in my time of need. "The Captain": From that moment, I made it my mission to aid Natlan. In battle, a warrior fights to win. Even though my homeland was lost, I was already committed to this fight.

"The Captain": Heh, even without the mask, my past appearance is long gone. Even with the curse of immortality, the flesh still rots. Paimon: Wait, do you know someone named Dainsleif? That problem doesn't seem quite so... extreme for him. "The Captain": You've met him already? Paimon: Yeah, a bunch of times. Sounds like you know him, too. "The Captain": During the age of Khaenri'ah, all I knew was his name. The last time I saw him in person, he was traveling with the Prince. He carries a degree of pain and hatred that far surpasses my own.⁸

[azulhood]

Danny was never a human.

While not exactly.

He kid of was, and kind of wasn't.

And that's not including the half-dead thing.

So during the start of Jack and Maddie's ghost hunting careers they experimented with the magic side of the world.

Then they stumbled across the ways to make something not living, alive.

And they thought 'well, this kind of involves our research, right?' Cos turning something that never lived but gets life most be some type of ghost stuff.

So they hunt down ways to make their experiment happen, from ancient texts to modern how to guides.

They checked it all.

Once their research was done, they made the body how the instructions say, with a few adjustments.

The only problem they had was that all of the recipes involved magic of some kind and neither Jack or Maddie had magic (they tested it multiple times)

So it was clear they had to get magic somehow.

And they did by stealing a magicians DNA, which was on him because he should know how dangerous it was to just leave DNA around, to be fair he probably wasn't expecting mad scientists to knock him out and take a blood sample.

And so it was added to the mixture of clay, their own blood,and the tiniest bit of ectoplasm moulded into a humanoid shape.

And finally it was the hard part.

Bringing it to life.

They took a page out of Victor Frankenstein's book and waited for a lighting storm, or in their case, a modified defibrillator.

The electricity acted as a spark to kick-start the process.

The blood formed the organs, skin, hair, and etc.

The ectoplasm breathed life into the golem, a bit too much.

Because once it was over they had a bouncing baby boy with the bluest eyes ever.

After running every test imaginable with each test confirming that the kid was human, they decided 'whelp, Jazz has a little brother now' and promptly forgot about it.

There was more exciting research to do after all.

When Danny's accident death happened it was only due to the magicians magic/ messed up luck powers and the ectoplasm in him that he survived.

Years go by and then Danny found out from reading their old notes.

His parents brushed it off saying that, yes, he was human and they loved him no matter what.

But Danny was a bit shook.

Finding out that he only existed not because his parents wanted him, but because they wanted to see if they could create.

Was he actually human? He was made out of clay for frick's sake!

And Danny handle this bombshell with grace and- he ran.

He ran as far as he could as fast as he could.

And so alone in a strange city and not willing to go back, he decided to seek out the magician who was technically his third parent.

What's the worst that could happen?

So off he went to find John Constantine.

[keferon]

Howdy!

I think your Monster Hunter AU is really cool and I wanted to know if you’d be cool if I tried to write something in the universe? (Specifically about Prowl haha, I saw him once and thought 👀 “man i wonder if tarantulas was in this au how spooky he’d be given he’s spooky enough in canon”)

Would also love to know your thoughts/if you had any of what Prowl could be up to, I know the au is Lost Light focused so I totally get it if you don’t have any/etc.

Hope you have a good day! Love your art!

Hoooo boy okay okay. Prowl.

He's a Golem created by Orion.

In mythology, Golems are essentially living statues made of clay mixed with blood and animated by magic. They are stupid and exist for primitive manual labor.

In my universe, a Golem is basically the same thing, but made of metal.

Orion assembled his golem from empty armor, parts stolen from the medbay, and his own energon. And then he went and got a Wisdom artifact and put it in the golem's head, because the rules strictly forbid giving golems internal organs like sparks or processors.

As a result, the golem was very light because it was essentially empty inside, so even when it moved it did so very quietly for a mech its size. Orion had been startled the first fifteen times the golem would appear completely silent beside him. On the sixteenth time, he called the golem Prowl.

Prowl is basically not a real mech. He has no spark, he has no need to eat or sleep. His only and primary task is to serve Orion. Thanks to the artifact, he is freakishly intelligent, not only compared to normal golems, but to normal mechs as well.

Orion keeps his origin a secret from everyone except Ratchet and Shockwave (because Shockwave was the one who taught him how to create golems), so all the mechs in the Order are convinced that Prowl is just Orion's very tedious assistant, not...you know...a walking puppet who has incredible intellectual abilities, but almost no emotions or conscience:)

[missterious-figure]

Moon is... grumpy. He doesn't like to talk much and can be quite blunt. He has the natural ability to shape-shift. He hates humans, so instead of shape-shifting into one, he turns into an elf.

Sea angels are made by having a perfect pearl with no blemishes blessed in the full moon's rays. This transforms the pearl into a sort of "soul" and the body is formed around it. They are made as babies and need someone to care of them. Though any one could create a sea angel, most of the time, it's another sea angel who performs the ritual to gain a child.

Sea angels are hunted by greedy people for their black blood that can heal ailments, and is said to even bring the dead back to life. And if their tentacles are cut, pearls fall from the wound. A sea angel can only produce pearls the same color as their soul pearl.

When Moon was a baby he lived with his mother by the shore near an elf village. They were very nice and respectful towards him and his mother. This was because the elves made a deal with Moon's mother. In exchange for free food and a safety from poachers and monster hunters, his mother give them some of her healing blood and pearls.

But this little paradise didn't last. A group of humans, the servants of the Dark lord, were after a sea angel. These evil people were accompanied by a strange being, going by the name Eclipse. They found Moon and his mother playing in the waves together. And before Moon could understand what was happening he and his mother were netted and dragged to shore.

Moon's mother tried to defend her son and killed a few of the humans. But she was struck dead by Eclipse. There was such cold bitterness in his eyes as he told his men to take the body and Moon away with them. Moon was stuffed in the same bag as his dead mother, terrified of what was coming next. He was in the darkness for so long... he heard the evil humans talking about how "the blood needed to be fermented anyway for the spell" and "what to do with the little one?" Their cruel laughing etched it's way into Moon's mind forever.

The Dark lord's servants finally stopped at one of their hide outs. They pried Moon from his mother's corpse and tossed him into a cage. They left to go get some egg or something.

This is were Sun and Moon met. A few hours went by before the humans came back. They dumped Sun in cage right next to him. Luckily Sun was strong enough to help Moon break free and they escaped. After Moon and Sun discovered what happened to the poor golem's family, they decided to stay together. They swore they'd get revenge on this Dark lord guy... someday.

After along time passed and the two boys were alot more grown, they would frequently try and get as much information about the dark lord as the could from towns and whatnot. They would disguise themselves, of course. One day at a tavern in a small town they noticed someone else snooping around for information about the Dark lord. It was a human, but maybe... they could be useful...

[thoughtsafterdark]

Changeling

Years ago

When I fell I love with the shake of a head

The sweep of a fringe across honey eyes

With hard edges and cutting comments

With earnestness and sincerity

Trembling, pouting lips

And everything in between

When the thought of going to bed with strangers unnerved me

I was so in love with the unwavering notion of love

I thought there must be something wrong with me

When I was 13 I had a letterbox of loves, real and imagined, made from long sighs and airy thoughts

and I would take them out, carefully, blow off the dust and cobwebs at birthdays and holidays

Dance with ghouls under the green and red and blue Christmas lights

The hazy mouldy smog of the artificial tree made my throat itch, triggered asthma attacks

A 1970s astigmatic capitalist daydream

Our reflections mirrored on baubles in the dark of Christmas Eve

And I lived there between branches

Polypropylene leaves digging into my skin

And I would whisper in their ears

Exchange love notes by the nativity scene

Who needed friends when I had

Tempero parietal epilepsy

And a rich internal life

(Autism diagnosis pending)

Sometimes I think

Whatever happened to her

To that wild, wide eyed, unsettling little changeling

The one who would watch the washing machine for hours

Hypnotised by the universes trapped in soap bubble films

They warp and change divide and split. Mitose. Evolve. Is this what it is to play god. We are closer to him in those years. Half formed clay golems with chubby, pawing fingers, muddy hair and drooling eyes.

If I were to crawl into his lap

Do you think he would hug me close like my father never did

I remember mornings

On the way to school

Stomach in knots

I remember French toast smothered in buttery creaminess. Bottled sunshine. Red berries popping on my tongue. Bursts of blood red flesh against retainers. An autumnal afternoon wrapped in a nauseous morning haze. Palms drenched in sweat.

I remember mud and dirt on knees, under fingernails. The feel of butterfly wing powder on my fingers.  Digging through mud, playing with ants. I used to pluck out their legs one by one, and watch as the others tore it apart.

I remember the hypnotic lick of flames against midnight skies, paper towns and cardboard dollhouse burning to ashes in the wind. I used to imagine the screams.

Don't you think fire is so poetic. Some glitch in the matrix. As alive as a dead thing can be. Heat and light, ionised air, a chain reaction that spreads and jumps from one thing to another? Destroys in its wake. The cancer of the dead world, with its own nefarious self replicating agenda. The 2nd Law of Thermodynamics, heat death made sentient. Saltatory conduction and Conway's game of life (or death)

Do you suppose with enough time it could learn to think? Do you believe if it could it would scream?

She's been locked in her cell for too long. I'm so so tired and the mask is melting.

I used to think I was good at reading people. At empathising. Now I wonder was it just her. Playing with puzzles, matching faces to appropriate responses.

I can feel her waking up, with her wide fae eyes, her long pointed ears. The better to see you with my dear. Better to quirk a head to the side and hear you with my dear. Unhinge her jaw and swallow you whole. Feel my spine crack, bones rearrange, muscles twist. The crunch of food plunging down my throat. My scales contracting around the bolus, accommodating, slithering.

They say hate and love are two sides to the same coin and I am inclined to agree. I thought I knew hate, and then you came. Like a storm that left me desolate and full of rage. I can feel the bitterness and fury sharpening itself in my gut every time I hear your voice. The blade melting, forging. The voice driving me insane. To best you, leave you in the dust. I am so so bone tired.

Sometimes I wonder

If I should love my hourglass body more

There are moments when I envy men

But never as much as now

Nothing drives my dysphoria like

Wanting to gauge out your eyes with my fingers

And fuck your empty eye sockets while you scream

Feel the supraorbital notch against my pelvis

Revel in the wet, garish squelch

I think you've gone braindead but that's alright

That's what my fingers buried in your nape are for

There is blood everywhere, god so much blood.

And here you had us all thinking you couldn't bleed

(Shut up

You all know

If I were a man

Writing about a woman

Pinning her down

Rearranging her insides

You would clap and ooh and ahh

Such a tortured soul, aching for release

Slaps on the back and salutations

"Tell us Stanley! Oh did you know since you were

a fucked up little boy pulling on Pigtails

That your self-indulgent gore pornography would revolutionise the medium of film?")

My momma used to say, clutching at her bloated belly

that she would love any baby

As long as it was happy and healthy

And! As long as it wasn't mentally...deficient. She would laugh then. How could she have a baby like that.

Some say I'm a genius mommy

I was the best in my class

But why do I feel like

I should tell you I'm sorry

I really did try

But mommy I'm so tired

I want to go to sleep

My bones are sick of trying

And the redcaps in the Earth are calling to me

They're so hungry momma

And so am I

I hope you find your real daughter mommy

Hope she has your eyes

I hope you get to love her mommy

Just not the way you loved me

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 5

MASTERLIST

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Summary: You go on a hunt to find Redmane Freyja.

A/N: Oh boy, another fight scene that I cannot write. This chapter mentions scenes of violence: blood, gore, swearing - all the fun things.

A03 link

-

Chapter 5: Challenge

"If thee dare betray me, I shall maketh sure thou art never blessed by mine own mother's grace again."

It haunts you his exact words, whispered as if death was watching your every move.

It's a challenge, though one where he can judge you for how foolish you are. If he really wanted you to do all this for his loyalty, you would've rather faced the golden hippopotamus again.

You tell yourself you'll prove him wrong, and wipe that smug attitude away when you return. That is if you do it in time. There is a sense of doom to your mission, one you think could go wrong. Redmane Freyja - someone you didn't get the chance to speak to - is a warrior through and through. Capable of standing for herself, and impressive in her prowess. 

Having followed the Moorth Highway south, avoiding furnace golems and trolls that sit by ransacked carriages. By the time you see the ruins on the second night, darkness has fallen, and rain slashes in front of you. You decide it's best to take a rest.

You sit by the closest site of grace, and rain shields your vision, giving less visibility, but it is only the grace you look upon, watching intensely.

Torrent nudges you out of your thoughts momentarily, bringing a gentle hand out to feed him berries you gathered, whilst you rip at the bark-like cured meat. "What have I gotten myself into, Torrent?" You whisper to him tentatively, as your stead munches happily on the treats you provide. A flash of lightning casts the tree behind you to look like a mighty beast, yet you do not jump. Instead, you sigh, your body aches and your mind wishes for rest. "Doom follows me, and I can only welcome it."

Sleep does not come easy, not that it has for many nights.

When morning comes, you dismount from Torrent, and the stead disappears out of sight, back into the whistle for when you need him next. The ruins are a large formidable mess, crumbling from age with the heat of the stone burnt from eternal flames. You're aware of its underground structures, but it is not that you're interested in.

For in the centre, stands the person you've been looking for.

"Tarnished, I am pleased to see you made it out alive from the Shadow Keep." Freyja greets you smoothly, turning to face you, "Is the deed done? Is the tyrant dead?"

"No Lady Freyja, he is not." 

The woman only gives a hum to your answer, "That is a shame. I will have no doubt when I tell Lady Leda, she will not be too pleased either. 

"She will not hear of this news, Freyja," There was a sense of acceptance to your words. You pull forth your nagakiba, bending your knees as you hold a defensive stance, "For I have come for your life instead."

She is silent for what feels like forever until you hear the absurd thing. Laughter. She is laughing at you. "Did your new lord ask of you to do this? Ah, you foolish girl, what have you done?"

You don't answer her, but you feel something boil inside you. Fight me. Fight me now. "Do you believe Lady Leda will not hear of this? The news of my death will trigger my allies to come find you. Do you not hear yourself, who will stand with you? Miquella will not take lightly hearing of your deception."

It is only with a heavy sigh that eases you. She unsheathes her great sword, flashing like a giant sun. "Very well, Tarnished. May your foolishness be your undoing."

"May it be then." You say, and before you in a flash, she charges.

Metal hisses against metal as the great sword hits the side of your armour on your chest, caught mostly by your nagakiba, thankful that it does not slice through. It does, however, leave a long scratch down the steel.

You grunt. Freyja is a mighty warrior you admit, but she sweeps with her great sword with the intent of hacking your head off rather than trying to whittle you down. A foolish mistake, you note, rolling out of the way as her great sword swings down, hitting the very spot you just stood on.

You land a quick slash towards her, having almost no effect as she dodges easily, grabbing you tightly by the forearm and headbutting you with a crack that you think has split your skull. She tosses you backwards, her laughter raucous and vexing.

You continue to circle her, darting back and forth, slicing, which makes her have to try looking out for you. She makes for a big target, swinging her great sword around as she huffs and grunts like a beast not wanting to surrender. A true warrior of Radahn, you wonder why she chose to leave him. For what feels like ages, you both jab at one another, taking turns with neither gaining a hit or dodging the last second. Only one of your slashes with your nagakiba gets her on the back of her leg and you smile in victory underneath your helm, only to dodge out the way clumsily from another one of her heavy-hitting attacks.

"You're slow, Tarnished." Freyja mocks. "Is this the warrior Messmer fought? I feel sorry for him."

You hiss, slashing at her most vulnerable areas, legs, arms, twice at the shoulders in an attempt to get her to become sluggish. Freyja would not slow though, grunting from time to time, but overall seemingly not injured.

You wonder if Messmer did all of this as a cruel joke- to have you face the largest and most formidable of Miquella's followers. It would be easy to laugh too, for you were indeed the fool who accepted. 

You continued, earning a slash to your shoulder at one point that has you promptly rummaging for a healing flask, dodging another attack as you down it. Your shoulder feels stiff, but it has healed the wound quickly enough for you to keep going for her. Circling, slashing, rolling. On and on, this dance goes on until you do begin to notice she is becoming slower.

You stagger her with a parry, going up behind her in a flash to stab her through the rib, getting through the gap in her armour as you kick her forward. Blood ruptures out as she gives a loud grunt, cursing you loudly as she lands on her feet before you can attack her again.

"I will not die today, Tarnished." You can hear her gritting her teeth, leaping like a cat into the air, her sword and herself swinging in time before she lands on the ground right in front of you. Debris and dirt hit you, rocks scrapping your exposed areas not covered by armour and you're flung backwards, landing not so gracefully on your back from the force of her landing. She strides towards you, thinking victory is ahead.

You roll to stand, thinking swiftly as you pull forth a perfume bottle, throwing it her way. It casts pockets of fire in her way, and she stumbles through it, patting herself as you can hear the sound of her blood bubbling and boiling from her cuts.

The next foolish thing you could do whilst she was occupied with the perfumed flames was charge towards her, running through the flames you cast as you scream, leaping onto her, kicking her in the gut that she is winded enough to have her great sword knocked from her hand. Now with her unarmed, you raise your nagakiba over your head, thinking it would be enough to strike the exposed part of her neck to give her a quick death, only to find she is slamming her fist into your gut too, not once, twice, knocking your sword from hand as she lands a punch to the side of your face, knocking you off her and onto the ground.

You scrabble, as she gets up, wheezing and whimpering as you pull forth another weapon. Small and delicate, the knife from your pocket would need to do a lot of damage, only she laughs at the measly size of it, charging you once more.

You dodge another punch to the side of your head, fear coursing through you, feeling more afraid than ever before. To be classed a traitor to all was not what you wanted, but you could feel yourself needing another flask immediately.

Freyja caught sight of it as you tried to reach for it, grabbing your wrist and twisting, releasing the bottles as they flew overhead you both, crashing with a shatter against some debris, clearly broken.

You can taste blood in your throat, coughing some up the more you move. Everything burns, pain that moves from one part of your body to the next part, screaming for rest, mercy. Freyja cries, raising her hands over her head as if ready to slam her fists down upon you when you see an opening. The exposed part of her armpit is uncovered, the blood seeping is her own. You miss the fists to your head, gripping the knife and using your other hand to drive it upwards, screaming with the force.

Freyja only hisses when you're face to face with her now. Her golden-masked face is all you can see, but you wish to believe her face has written on it either fear or approval. You don't think it's been driven hard enough into her chest, driving it deeper which earns a louder cry from her, followed by shallow, deep breathing.

"You fought well, Tarnished." She wheezes, "I pray Kindly Miquella will think the same."

With a final curse, she bends, falling to her back, her breathing ceasing with the blade poking out between her skin and armour. 

It was only when you felt the sense of victory wash over that you felt something was off. Pain kicks in, replacing the adrenaline with a stinging sensation that begins to burn between your ribs. Horror rushed over you, catching you off guard. A cold sweat washes over. Crying out, you jump back away from Freyja's crumpled body, running shaky hands over your body to find what was sticking out of you. Oh Gods. You dread, crying out as a blade you hadn't noticed she had pulled forth, with a handle as thick as your forearm was now protruding in your side.

You had felt many deaths before and suffered great injuries, but none had been so foul as the feeling of torture before death came. You needed to find a site of grace before you lost everything. Gritting your teeth, your hands gripped the handle to the blade, reeling back from the pain of it so far lodged into you. One, two, three! You didn't want to give yourself any time to react as you pulled it out from you, screaming from both the alleviation and fear bubbling in your mind. 

Immediately, your legs gave way and you fell backwards, limbs numb as you still held the bloody knife in your grip. You groaned in disgust, throwing it away as you remembered through it all that you couldn't just leave without the proof Messmer asked for.

"He better be fucking grateful." You spat, clutching your bleeding side as you tried your best to even kneel. With only the knife on you to use, it would be better for hacking than the thinner blade of your nagakiba. You knew what you had to do. Staring down at Freyja's corpse, you kicked off her helm, revealing a mass of unruly hair. 

"Forgive me." You whispered, revealing her neck as you pressed the knife into her flesh, the sounds of hacking and sawing could be heard through the ruins.

Once off, you threw the head into a bag, tying it to your belt as you whistled for Torrent. It was hard not to stop yourself from gagging, the thick smell of blood wafted in the air, creating an even fouler stench in the ruins. You had been through worse, you reminded yourself, dying is now as familiar to you as waking up in the morning, but even on the verge of death, it was the worst feeling to experience. It was not the same as just suffering a quick and easy one, waking up by grace fully healed. 

Once here, Torrent stands solemnly beside you, warily swaying as his beady eyes access you. It takes some effort to mount him, for the beast is patient, and you can only silently thank him for not bucking you off for how many times you try getting your leg over. Finally atop, your skin feels both hot and cold, your armour was sticking to your skin as if it was boiling you alive from the inside. The soft fur of Torrent was all you had to concentrate on, despite the feeling that your brain wanted to switch off. You fight it for as long as you can, hoping Torrent can guide you the way you came. 

You didn't know how long you had been travelling back when the pain was ebbing away at your consciousness, your body was weakened and struggling to stay atop Torrent. Your skin had paled, hands were jittery as you lost the strength in your fingers to hold the reins. Your vision was spiralling, swaying like the waves of the shoreline, not certain what was up and what was down, but the feeling of your body swaying, and finally, falling and falling in slow motion.

You thudded to the ground, Torrent halting as he inspected you with a muzzle to your face, coaxing you to stay awake. 

"Torrent." Breathing noisily, you would apologise to him when you found yourself at a site of grace. You dreaded knowing you would fail at Messmer's quest in his mind, but before you could think further of it, darkness swarmed your vision, and you thanked whoever was watching over you finally gave you comfort.

From the darkness, came distant, cold dreams, filling your mind with doubt:

..."They are incredible, are they not?" There is a sense of dread and awe as you stare up at the sky, bright and bold with the sounds of dragons. The creatures, large in age, sweep and dive down, creating rushes of wind to almost knock back the men who stand on the ground. Some are still wary, when the dragons came once, it had been to destroy towns and wage wars. Now, having them as allies was an unseen miracle. "It is your friendship with them that is outstanding." You marvel, turning to the man beside you, as regal and charming as those with royal blood. He carries himself with a way of understanding all, a calming presence that all could admire. He smiles at you, resting a hand on your shoulder. "I am certain they would love to meet thee. I have told them much and more." "Me? I am just a mere knight, here to serve, my Lord." "Yes, but my most trusted ally and loyal friend." The man chuckles, leading you down as if now is the right time to introduce you to the winged creatures.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

... "Mother is to remarry again." The regal man says, this time you don't know how much time has passed. There is a slight tinge of disappointment in his words. He has his back towards you, the parchment thrown across his apartments. "I received her message when I broke my fast." "You know to whom?" You ask. "The Carian Queen's former husband, Radagon." "And of your father? What becomes of him?" "He is to begin his long march with many of his armies, my mother has decreed." He turns to you, sorrow that was not just in his voice but in his eyes. "She asks that thee join." You don't wish to, you want to plead and beg, but this sadness is not just felt in him but yourself, something you cannot understand nor explain. You think this man is unknown to you, so why do you feel such disgrace? All you can do is nod, acceptance heavy in your chest. "Very well, my Lord."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

... A half bottle of wine is now neglected, and large calloused hands dance along your hips and thighs, lips pressed to the pulse point of your neck. "Let me speak to my mother," the man uttered, pulling you closer on his lap, "she will let thee stay." "I can't," you say, his hands felt so realistic in the fogginess of your mind, fingers stroking his jawline, "it is my duty not just to serve you, but your family as well." "I know, my sweet knight." He murmurs in understanding, a sense of despair consumes him, and when he tries to pick you up to continue things in the bedroom, you stop him. "Not yet, my Lord. I only wish to be in your arms tonight. One final night before I must leave." He smiles, kissing you with the need to remember the outline of your lips. "Anything for thee."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

... A battlefield of blood and bone, ash and carnage. Men in golden armour surround you, in the dying, groaning for mercy and death, their voices dying down in numbers. You clutch your bleeding chest, holding a grand ornate sword in hand, and sweet tears drip from your eyes. You cough, spluttering crimson blood that dribbles down your chin. You stare up at the endless sky, with a man's name being muttered from your lips as you die. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Your lungs burn when you wake from a death-like sleep, coughing up the air and drinking it in as if you can still somehow feel the cold blade deep in your chest. You go to touch it, only to remember that it was all a dream.

"Easy, milady," a voice pulls you back to reality, and when you look at your surroundings, you're not staring into the golden strips of grace, but the roaring flames of a fire. Opposite you, sits a nomadic merchant, plucking at the strings of his instrument, "your wounds are still open."

Messmer. Is your first thought, and you dread to wonder if he thinks you've betrayed him. You're careless in the way you try to stand, running a hand over where the blade stuck through you, only to find heavy bindings that have been kept to stop the bleeding. You hiss softly, guilt pouring through at the attempt this merchant has made to keep you alive.

"It shall be enough to get you to find a proper healer if you're quick." He says in a soft tone, watching you through clouded eyes, his face half covered. 

"Torrent... where is Torrent?" You're blinking back from the intensity of the fire in front of you, blinking back tears you're certain to have come from the cinders, not your life-like dreams. 

"Ah, your stead," the merchant points, and through the bushes, you spot Torrent, munching on berries with no care in the world. "We found you in the nick of time, milady. If we had been any later, well... you would've been a goner."

You try to laugh at that, but you're unsure if he knows you're Tarnished. "Thank you," you stand shakily to your feet, throwing a coin his way that he accepts with some surprise, "I must be going now."

"I must warn you, Messmer's soldiers lurk on the roads. Best to keep to the woods." The merchant speaks with uncertainty as you coax Torrent to come to you. He does, stroking his snout before climbing atop. You feel just about better now that you've had time to rest, but you need to head back to Aldwin so he can stitch you back up. You've been gone so long without a site of grace that you fear you will begin to wither.

"It is alright," you speak earnestly. "He is looking for me."

-

A/N: I am aware that it's recommended not to pull sharp objects out of you unless you wish to bleed to death, but I guess Tarnished thinks it's the smartest plan. I do wonder who this mysterious man is-- oh well, I guess we'll never know *wink wink*

[shamefullyhornywrites]

Dean WInchester x Chubby Reader smut

dom reader sub castiel sub dean dean x reader x castiel male overstimulation walk them like a dog

"Stupid fucking gnoll" Dean mutters looking for the hotel card pushing coupons aside and pulling out singles. He stops and tilts his head to the side he could hear rhythmic creaking from their shared room. His pretty witch had been fed up with his and Sammys usual haunts she sprung for a motel 6 with a pool. Even bought Sammy his own room on the ground level closer to the pool away and down the hall as far away as he could be from them. Sammy had appreciated it, if the loud "thank fuck" and his quick snatching of the card had been any indication.

The rooms were ok, Dean didn't see the point of shelling out half a grand a night just for name fucking brand. Still a fucking motel same ole rickety bed, crunchy carpet, and ugly ass decor but no roaches, no rats, nice hot water she replied when he voiced his opinion. He shoved himself inside before the door was fully open some grave dirt and black blood rubbing off onto the white paint in his haste to not give a show to the drunk bikers yelling on the parking lot. The low rise of lust in his abdomen already rising, slamming the door shut he turned ready to say something smooth, only to be met with the hottest sight he'd seen since Giselle from Colorado pull out the largest strap 23 old Dean had ever seen.

"Pretty bird." Dean gasps out in greeting the only one the angel will get from the elder Winchester brother not when his brain is already emitting an error sound. The sight of her brown skin glistening as she pounds down on him in a reverse amazon her big tits slapping in tune with her thrusts. The sloshes of her slick and his cum mixing dripping down his balls slicking up his taint. If the angel was still capable of thought he would have responded to Deans absentminded greeting with a grunt maybe a full sentence, its more than he got from the chubby witch who summoned him out of the blue. She didn't even give him an explanation before ripping off his pants and making a valiant attempt at removing his angelic essence from his hosts body through its dick.

"Dean" Castiel gurgles out underneath her his eyes roll back as his body spasms fresh tears flow down his face Dean whimpers knowing exactly how the angel feels he finishes with a strangled moan. She doesn't stop if anything she rides him harder ignoring her clit to grab at him pushing Castiel's legs back more, slamming down harder. They had to have been at this since he left at seven in the morning Castiel didnt get this fuck drunk from a couple of hours, an angels stamina and all. Made it hard to see their pretty bird all wrecked not for lack of trying.

Shit. Dean licks his lips watching her belly ripple with thrusts he hadnt moved from the tiled entrance watching his angels rigid cock disappearing into his witch he loves it when his shes greedy. When he gets too excited and lil'dean finishes too early for her, she huffs rolling over on him and pushing him down using her thick thighs to keep him there as she slips his soft cock back into her using magic to keep it in. Ignoring his overstimulated whines to fuck herself harder sometimes if shes feeling charitable she'll allow him to use his mouth on her instead of his poor soft cock.

Dean was never a fan of magic would probably never truly be but damn did he love the consequences of hers. Apparently, all the magic she had, demanded to be seen, to be used usually it came out in glowing eyes, perfect edges, effortless grace and also an increased libido. So much so every now and then when jobs weren't serious enough to involve her skill-set it built up, gave her stamina to last for days. She wasnt as creative when she was in 'rut' no tentacles, no sex golems just good old fashion pounding.

A big busty gal like her got what she wanted when she wanted, always has, especially when it came to sex. Dean used to call her a brat cause she could never wait for a hunt to end. After one mind-blowing quickie on a stakeout left his legs all jellylike. When the ghoul ran past them he landed flat on his ass trying to give chase didn't even have the time to pull up his pants before he muttered fuck it and shot the damn thing on the ground with his dick out. Luckly Sammy was on the other side of the shut down school running around. Dean still remembers how quick she shut him shit down reminding him how he bitched about anything she did before she started fucking him stupid.

She's a witch Sammy shes probably working for the Krampus or one of the 20,000 devils we've met.

Shes too big, takes up all the backspace if we're gonna start collecting monsters cant we get a nice little thing.

Shes too expensive always wanting to buy groceries and 'fresh fruit' instead of burger king.

She spelled my cassette tapes and now they only play covers of 'season of the witch' Sammy I'm gonna shoot her.

Not to mention all the other shit he proded and poked about Sammys old friend from college turned Glinda the good witch.

That all ended after a really bad hunt Dean was cocky he can admit it now, if hes good at anything its admitting his faults months after making them. Sammy had gotten hurt.

Bad. Really bad.

Claw marks across his chest deep enough to see bone, he was losing gallons of blood with every shuttering breath his face paled in a way Dean only truly seen in his nightmares. Dean cradled his little brothers face begging him to hold on keep breathing to fluttering lashes to hold on. Dean had been so thankful he remembers the aching need to sit in his car and just stare off into space blood congealing on his face as (healthy safe ALIVE) Sammy and her got dinner.

Dean invited her to his daily bar hopping intending to buy her a round before he buried himself in some strangers tits. He didn't mean to top the night off with him on his knees in the bars only bathroom, with her riding his face as they both ignore someone banging on the door. Only to go back after being kicked out of the bar to the motel room shoving Sammy out the room and breaking the cheap motel bedframe with a vigorous round two, three and four.

Sammy was pissed when the full bill came for the damage. Didn't help when the motel manager fist bumped him or when she gave him a kiss good morning on the ride out.

She stood up heavy chest heaving with breaths finally noticing Dean in the room Castiel gurgled when his cock finally slipped free from her heat. The cool air just as tortuous on his abused member as her tight pussy was.

Dean hums her eyes were on him now, he finally moves closer stepping on the carpet she walks off the bed hips swaying to greet him. She plasters her sweat soaked skin to his clothed side, rubbing her head into his neck her soft curls rub against Deans skin headbutting him like the cats he's allergic to. He wouldn't be surprised if she started purring.

Delicate nails glide up and down his clothed erection toying with him "Hey baby boy." she whispers voice raspy. Lucky bird Dean thought just a tad jealous, it'd been weeks sense Dean had been good enough to earn a blowjob.

She leans into him mouthing at his ear, nipping at his neck. He grips her arm thrusting up as she cups him more firmly.

"Hey." He groans dumb, he huffs out a laugh throwing his head back rolling his hips "Miss me." he jokes.

She hums pulling him to the lone bed in the room back to their pretty bird Castiel's more coherent now, the little break doing him good his head was turned toward them eyes hard dried tear tracks decorate his pretty face, laying back on his arms as he watched them his cock standing tall.

"We have to start over" She sighs. Her hands unbuckling his belt as he shimmies off his flannel arms rising up to throw his wife beater across the room.

"Oh no" Dean says voice heavy with fake anguish. He shoves his pants down thick cock bouncing as he pulls her toward him rutting on her thighs as they drop onto the bed. Castiel crawls toward their moving bodies he settles back on his heels and spreads his knees to reveal thighs wet with his cum and her slick cock twitching "Dean" he grunts gruff voice soft with love.

[date-a-jew-suggestions]

HI I WANNA HEAR ABOUT MONSTER HIGH JEWISH HEADCONNANS PLSSSSS

HIIII I finally have a chance to respond to this

Keep in mind this is gonna be loosely based on g3 canon but also it’s kind of just based on me customizing/playing with my dolls and deciding what their vibes are, so I’m probably gonna contradict canon a lot lol

I like to imagine there’s a synagogue nearby monster high that has like a ~20% monster population since the school opened up. The rabbi is very enthusiastic about including them, he really enjoys all of the new questions about scripture that they raise. When one of the people at his synagogue came to him to tell him that he had constructed a Golem, the rabbi was thrilled. He was not expecting a flesh golem, but beggars can’t be choosers.

So Clawdeen and her siblings are Jewish on their mom’s side. Holiday dinners are huge and chaotic events, and siblings usually end up fighting over the lamb bones on Passover. When Clawdeen brought Draculaura home to meet her parents, her mom made a joke about blood libel that had to be explained to Draculaura.

Frankie’s only parent is their dad who constructed them, and he’s Jewish. After an ongoing debate about when Frankie should have their b’nei mitzvah, since they started school after being constructed only a few weeks prior, the rabbi threw his hands up in the air and said it was past time since clearly they were at least 13 in terms of maturity, so Frankie got b’nei mitzvah’d on what was technically their 1st birthday. Their friends wore their monster ball outfits to the party afterwards >:3

Frankie’s dad is very supportive of their nonbinary identity, and when Frankie said they were nervous about introducing him to their girlfriend, he told them that they had nothing to worry about. If she made Frankie happy, he would absolutely support the relationship. He was not expecting his child to bring home the pharaoh’s daughter to the Passover Seder. It was awkward, to say the least. After several meetings with the rabbi and a lot of family drama, Frankie’s family came to the conclusion that Cleo was welcome in their home. After that she started coming to holiday dinners often, and Frankie’s dad came to understand that her father was not treating her well. This solidified Cleo’s place in his home- how could a Jew turn away someone who was wronged by the Pharaoh? Cleo and Frankie stayed together through high school, eventually getting married. Cleo converted as soon as she moved out of her father’s house.

[mothgenes]

My self-directed final for my digital illustration class, an illustration of this poem by Hanan Mikha'il Ashrawi. Free Palestine.

Alt text underneath the cut.

Alt text: First image: This is an illustration contained in a white boarder with an uneven frayed appearance. In a war-torn scene absent of human life, streams of missile smoke rise from behind the central figure against a red sky that grows increasingly yellow towards the center immediately behind the central figure. The central figure is an Israeli Occupation Forces operative with his Israeli flag patch visible and a single blue eye with a white Star of David to reflect the flag inside it, the other eye consumed in shadow. The face is devoid of all visible expression, and a crack is visible coming from the shadowed eye over the clay-like skin of the soldier, meant to reference the concept of the IOF as a golem. The IOF officer raises a smoking automatic rifle and gazes down the composition with a lack of feeling. He stares down a little girl with long hair blowing in the wind who's back is to the viewer, with a bleeding crosshairs over half of her face where her eye would be. She wears a Palestinian flag over her shoulders that is also blowing in the wind, and the red triangle moves beyond its borders through the bloodstains that are on it. In the wreckage visible around the soldier, there is a fallen cross visible, close to the subtle shadow of a human hand, and destroyed buildings, bringing to mind the common lie that it is a religious conflict by reminding the viewer that churches and Palestinian Christians are also being murdered and struck with missiles. In the center of the image there is white handwritten text, of the first verse of the poem "From the Diary of an Almost-Four-Year-Old" by Hanan Mikha'il Ashrawi. It reads, "Tomorrow, the bandages will come off. I wonder will I see half an orange, half an apple, half my mother's face with my one remaining eye?" Page 2 alt text: The background is black with a trail of red smoke crossing the composition from the bottom right up and over to the top left in an uneven organic curve. At the bottom right there is the shattered clay head of a golem in a broken army-green helmet. One eye has been shattered and most of the face has been destroyed. There is a smear of blood over a shatter mark on our left's side of the forehead of the golem, as though made by a stone from a sling intended to subtly reference David and Goliath, with the IOF as Goliath. The smear of blood covers the first of three characters that make up the text usually down on the foreheads of golems. In folktales, the way to deactivate a golem is to wipe away the first character of their text, which normally reads "emét", which is truth in Hebrew. Removing the first character makes it say "mét", which means death. This calls for the retirement of the IOF as an entity as it does not help anything- only harms. White text is the main focus of this piece. The white text reads: From the Diary of an Almost-Four-Year-Old" by Hanan Mikha'il Ashrawi Tomorrow, the bandages will come off. I wonder will I see half an orange, half an apple, half my mother's face with my one remaining eye?

I did not see the bullet but felt its pain exploding in my head. His image did not vanish, the soldier with a big gun, unsteady hands, and look in his eyes I could not understand

I can see him so clearly with my eyes closed, it could be that inside our heads we each have one spare set of eyes to make up for the ones we lose

Next month, on my birthday, I'll have a brand new glass eye, maybe things will look round and fat in the middle— I've gazed through all my marbles, they made the world look strange.

I hear a nine-month old has also lost an eye, I wonder if my soldier shot her too—a soldier looking for little girls who look him in the eye— I’m old enough , almost four, I've seen enough of life, but she's just a baby who didn't know any better.

[chernabogs]

GLOAMING

Inc: Knight of Dawn, Lilia, Meleanor, Malleus mention, Silver mention, Leah mention Warnings: Heavier topic, obviously, considering the circumstances of KoD and BV's backgrounds. Mentions of blood, death, and genocide-related actions. WC: 1.5k Summary: Gloaming: Twilight; Dusk. [promptober]

The Knight doesn’t recall too much of his life before he was found. He doesn’t know who his parents were, nor how they fell on the good side of the fae to begin with, nor does he recall how he survived to the point in time where the king took him in. Perhaps that was an additional blessing by his guardians—the stubborn inability to fall victim to life’s poor toss-ups. After all, how else does an orphan starving on the filthy streets of a village end up under the wing of that nation's monarch? No one is that lucky without some sort of external acting force. 

Still, the old king was a kind man. A father that never gave his adopted son a name and rather just referred to him as his ‘Knight’, which quickly turned to ‘Knight of Dawn’—originally said in mockery by others, but soon to be uttered in reverence through trial and tribulation. Dawn was beautiful and sounded far more so without the term ‘knight of’ before it, especially when such a name comes to be associated with so much pain. 

No country wants a war, really—just the people who rule them. The costs are far greater than the benefits and the amount of blood that’s spilt for a mere few kilometres of land is never worth it. Besides, these kilometres are more often than not lost in the next scuffle, which makes all those bodies and broken families even less agreeable. The old king never wanted conflict, even when he fell ill with the Grieves and his body became a limpid, pungent husk swathed in royal robes. If a country denied him a cure then he would rather choose to die with dignity then drag his denizens and his name through mud.

Heinrich was not the old king. The crown prince who fancied himself a god was as arrogant and as entitled as one would expect a silver-spooned infant to be—not that the Knight would speak it out loud. He enjoyed dangling oaths like swords of Damocles, bending people to his whims and then discarding them once they stopped being so pliant. 

Childish. Always had been. Just a boy playing dress up as a prince.

She, however, was not. He was nameless and faceless beneath a mask until she had taken him into her heart and given him what he missed. A face, a name, a purpose beyond paying off a debt he never asked to get and was far too young to understand. 

“You are more,” she would whisper in his ear as he lost himself in her embrace, trying to find a few moments of sanctuary before he’s pulled to the front lines once more. Leah had evolved from someone he swore to protect by obligation to someone he would protect even if it meant rendering himself to ashes. In her presence he found himself able to think clearly, to know that the actions he was compliant with were wrong on so many levels. Their relationship was forbidden but the risk of it all made the moments more tantalizing then the most divine of nectars. 

But Leah could only shield him for so long, just as he could only do so with her. 

He doesn’t know how many he fell by his sword. He stopped counting at some point and merely began to act by mechanical response. Faces stopped having features to him and bodies stopped having names. His mind began to regress in itself until he was nothing more than a Golem serving as an extension of his lord's will. He rendered families to nothing, annihilated bloodlines, and almost took down a dynasty while he’s at it. He wanted to stop but he could never bring himself to speak his defiance’s out loud.

Coward. Always had been. Just a boy playing dress up as a hero. 

The only thing that snapped him of his reverie in these dark hours was the egg. It was unexcitable as it was clutched in the arms of its mother’s closest companion, who stared at him with red eyes that held as much exhaustion as he felt, but the Knight knew of its worth.

Tired. They’re both so goddamn tired. Divided by race, divided by loyalty, but united in this very breath by a singular emotion that they shared. 

“You…” he rasped out, his body aching from the collapse he was subject to, his throat raw with dust and debris. The General tensed and seemed prepared for a fight as he clutched the egg tighter. He will die for this baby, the Knight realized. He’ll let his blood stain the ground before a single scale is broken on that shell, and he’ll rip the world apart while he’s at it. The egg was about to be an orphan—its father was already dead, and he was in the process of killing its mother. Another family razed; another bloodline annihilated. 

He took a sharp breath as they stared at each other for a moment more before his mind settled on a decision and he uttered a single word: “Go.” 

There was only a split second of hesitation in the General’s eyes before he was running, and running, and the Knight hoped that he ran faster than he ever had before because he was all that little egg would have left once this is done. 

No one is that lucky without some sort of external acting force. 

He spat blood on the ground to grant the starving soil an offering before he raised his sword once again. 

____________________________

When the gloaming comes, the Knight is not surprised. Dawn will always end one way or another. People can claim to be the best, but it only takes so long before someone better sets them right. 

Heinrich was dead—and good riddance to that. It had taken enough of his self-control not to tarnish the man's grave the moment he was finally set in the ground. He had only lasted for a mere ten years before the other nations grew as hungry as he had been and decided he was prepped for a feast. They wanted mines, railways, and resources, and Heinrich was simply not as strong as the Draconia family had been when it came to keeping dogs away. 

Leah was gone, too—not dead, but he had sent her to the castle in the hopes that the stone walls would offer her some safety. He was not a man of faith, but he had selfishly prayed to the creator of that palace to take mercy on his wife, not for their sake, but for the baby that she cared for. Meleanor had been a mother like Leah and all he could hope is that she’d understand. 

He’s all that’s left of a bloody reign, and he feels it’s far overdue to put it to bed. He doesn’t want his son to grow up with a legacy of misery tied to his name. He doesn’t want his son to be looked at with fear, or resentment, because of the actions his cowardly father committed. All the Knight wishes for is for Leah and their baby to be free, to be loved, to be as far away from Briar Valley as they can possibly be because he has tarnished this place and there is no forgiveness left to give. Not that he deserved any.

When the sword pierces his chest, it’s a poetic irony. He wagers that him being killed in this manner is Meleanor’s revenge, and she’s only having someone else do it because her son has yet to be welcomed to this world. 

Good for her. 

The Knight falls to his knees and looks up at the faceless visage of the one who finally bested him. Blood is seeping down his armour and turning it from blessed silver to the colour of a violent dusk. He remembers hearing once that your life will flash before your eyes the moment you’re about to die, but instead of his life, a thousand thoughts appear.

He thinks of the egg that he’s orphaned and the parents that he took away. He thinks of the burning trees he bore witness too, the empty mines he walked through, and the poisoned lakes that were the result of their machines. He thinks of the many faceless bodies and the many forgotten names that were a direct result of his actions. A thousand years of reparations would do little to heal the wounds that he carved into this land because he could not bring himself to say ‘no’ to one man’s orders.

When the sword is wrenched free, he thinks of Leah, and how sorry he is to put her in this position.

When his vision goes black, he thinks of the king, and how he wishes the man never took him in to begin with.

When he finally goes numb, he thinks of his son, and how all he can do is hope that he turns out to be a better man than his father ever was. 

[shadowuserannie]

and he falls

By all means, having the body of a dragon should feel different.

But his shadows have sensed his lack of sight, and reconfigured his glasses despite his transformation. He can feel his tail, his claws, but the transformation feels more like a fusion or operating a golem rather than transforming.

(Maybe it’s because this isn’t a real power-up, achieved through hard work. It’s been shortcutted, a tier activated by an outside force rather than striven for from within.)

(Maybe he’s just too weak.)

Fang roars, and shadowfire bellows out of his mouth. It meets the lightning of his sis-no, no. No.

She is Empress Satriantar Kira’na, and she has murder in her eyes where there was once care.

(He is seven years old and still learning to erase nightly footage from the cameras in the training room. She says the nickname Kira will do just fine, and she is his first combat teacher.)

Her sword flashes as she moves, fast as lightning and twice as deadly.

Fang is just slightly faster to dodge.

He pivots, moving what he feels to be his mouth wide open to crush-

(“Don’t tell Kai I’m teaching you, mm?” Kira corrects his shoddy fist.)

Fang hesitates for a split second, and Kira’na dodges.

“It’s no use, Pang. The bigger the enemy, the harder they fall.”

Listen to yourself, then.

“I will still protect my friends, Kira’na.”

Fang has given up everything for them.

He had given up his brother when his friends were hurt.

He had given up retaining any connection to Kira’na when his friends were hurt.

He has given his blood and power and everything for his friends.

(Fang is thirteen years old, and he is in a ship all alone in the dark depths of space. He wishes he’d never left that beautiful planet revolving around a golden sun.)

“Sadly, your protection can only last for so long!”

And-look, he knows, okay?

He knows that they still dance around the year or two he’d been absent from them.

He knows that they still don’t listen when he urges them not to rush in.

He knows that no matter what he does nothing ever works because he’s Fang K’tenna and so of course it doesn’t.

But he can try, he damn well tries because they are his friends and Fang will rip apart the universe if they asked him to.

(“I’ll rip apart the universe if you ask me to,” Fang is nine and his declaration is made through sobs as he hugs Kira one last time.)

(“I will never ask you to.”)

He doesn’t fold in, doesn’t shy away in fear.

The spear of Voltra crackles in the sky but Fang feels no fear.

Dying for his friends isn’t a half-bad end. His younger self might disagree, because Fang is ambitious to his core and despises the idea of leaving life having not done anything important.

But protecting his friends? That’s an importance his life is worth.

Or-

Or maybe, Fang realises as he watches Rimba club Kira’na-literally-there is some part of him that knows his friends will never let him die.

He strikes Kira’na down when Rimba orders him to, and this time he doesn’t hesitate.

When Rimba lands on his nose, Fang doesn’t quite feel it. He just pleads for Kira’na to stop.

“You have to realise, Kira’na. That power is eating you from the inside!”

Please, Kira.

“Nonsense! The Voltra power belongs to the Gur’latan royalty!”

Her power builds, and Fang still isn’t afraid.

“Not Retak’ka, and not you Boboiboy!”

Fang twists his body upwards slightly-so Kira’na’s swing misses the Elemental on his nose.

Except she wasn’t aiming for Rimba.

VOLTRA MEGA SLICE

Fang falls.

(He is seven years old and using the training rooms at night.)

(He is ten years old and he is all alone with no support system on a different planet.)

(He is thirteen years old and he is going insane on a ship in deep space.)

(He is almost fifteen years old and he is telling his friends to go.)

(He is sixteen years old and he shatters because he has always been broken pieces ready to break again.)

Fang is sixteen years old, and he dies.

The last thing he hears is Rimba’s scream.

“FANG!”

[ravencromwell]

Mid-way through art history last semester, I discovered the "Mayan Lintels 24-26". Prior to that moment, my familiarity with blood sacrifice had been a fatal event, meant as act of last resort or immense devotion. But these made me familiar with the idea of less drastic, if equally poignant ritual practices of minor bloodletting.

Which inevitably drew me back to Holland's moment at the stream in ACOL. It's easy to identify this as an idiosyncratic ritual of his own invention, particularly because he says he didn't pray and wouldn't know who to pray to. But as my historian brain thinks more and more of Holland as deeply shaped by culture, because there is always culture even in the apocalypse, rather than creating a revitalized society entirely from whole cloth, I become increasingly fascinated by this as Holland practicing alone what was meant to be congregational. In many an organized religion, action itself is the prayer rather than liturgy. And Vortalis has a fascinating line about "fools waiting for the Someday King to return" as though it's far from uncommon, though not shall we graciously say, not a mainstream view to put a great deal of weight behind the tales.

As we see when Holland describes Alox's runes, to "bind escaping magic" is the paramount way of survival in Makt—Vortalis says they have become a society fearful of any magic they cannot control.

Yet, there is immense power in willingly spilt blood—not just for Antari, but magicians more generally. Look, after all, at Maxim's spell to craft a golem army—one of its requirements was protracted blood loss by the caster.

What a powerful message it would send, in a benighted world, to willingly spill the most precious of your own resources. What better manifested prayer to call the Someday King to incarnate, to prove there were still those willing to buck societal trends, and thus a society worth saving? [To some believers, it might be less about calling to a yet-born magician than calling to magic itself, trying to pour enough back into the land this numinous force might feel safe enough to cease endlessly retreating.) A circle, spilling blood onto barren ground, not for food or shelter, but just to give magic back to the land.

A fairly commonplace ritual, performed on two days of historical significance or the Solstices/equinoxes etc., just after the Cataclysm that has faded into rarity but not quite extinction in an increasing desperate world. Which Holland practices alone on different days (and mayhap in a different place, though it would _also make sense for the site of any larger rituals to be the Silver Wood, given Holland's irritated: 'This is a sacred place' when Vor flicks ash everywhere to goad him.) After all, the greatest source of magic coming into bleed all over your ritual might prove too powerful a temptation for even the best-intentioned folk to have a slice of the bounty. 

[rius-cave]

It’s Anon 🔴☘️ again and I’d like to explain myself. I sent that ask while heavily sleep deprived so it was a mess. Heck I reread it yesterday morning and got confused. The original comment was supposed to be something like “Everyone likes Lamb!Adam but what about a plant or gardener Adam instead? He could accidentally make Eden 2.0 in Hell while Yandere!Lucifer plots to get 3/3. Sera would lose her mind.” That’s it! I have no idea why my brain added part of a 3AM crazy theory about Adam’s species, sin and the Tree of Life… Let me try again since I caused some confusion.

tldr; Adam isn’t human because he doesn’t have free will. In order to be reborn into Heaven or Hell you have to be human. In order to keep him alive in the show I found a work around using dirt. He’s now friends with Hell because of said dirt.

Here’s my Redemption Arc about dirt: The original Adam is made from clay that turns into flesh and blood. I’m assuming that’s part of HH!Adam’s origin story until Vivzie tells us otherwise. Now to me Adam sounds like a fairly advanced clay golem. In some games and literature, golems can repair themselves using the same kind of material that they’re made of. Instead of conventional healing they add what’s been subtracted. This doesn’t have to be a conscious decision and can just happen i.e a “passive ability.” Like breathing for humans.

SO! Adam either dies or is close to death after Nifty stabs him but eats dirt on accident, which turns into flesh, and he lives lol. He’d be stuck in Hell since he’s made partially out of Hell itself now. He can’t be reborn because he can’t technically sin/has no free will. Lucky guy will keep his original physical body. He’s still mostly made out of Eden.

Unfortunately no Eren Yeager epic bs like Adam’s spirit living in everyone, just Hell probably being semi sentient and fully aware that Adam has become an extention of itself. He’s become Hell’s Green Man aka Disney Princess! He doesn’t want Heaven anymore. He’s never alone now since Hell’s in his head and under his skin he’ll never be abandoned again

I can’t say anything else or else it’d be an essay. No joke. (ngl I’m still sleep deprived)

- 🔴☘️ Anon

OOOOHHHH OKAY! That does help a lot, actually! Okay okay, yeah that makes sense to me now!

The idea of Adam being like a golem is djdjfznfjsf kinda awesome ngl. That would be a cool thing to happen to him because now he is made of, as I understand it, two different kinds of dirt. Would this make him have some sort of double nature? I imagine it would, now he has two "wills" fighting against each other inside him, and I'd imagine that would cause a lot of conflict. Now he has a connections to demons that nobody can deny. I'm guessing that would make him have some existential crises along the way lmao.

[inkyghoast]

Genshin Theory: Kaeya is NOT descended from Chlothar, he is descended from Anfortas.

It’s true that Caribert revealed Kaeya knew his family had ties to the Abyss, however, while he could be playing it cool to Traveler it struck me more as a family story as opposed to somewhere he had been. And while it could be playing coy to keep things from the player Kaeya’s character story is about his loyalty to Khaenri’ah, not his loyalty to the Abyss Order. The Abyss Order seems to ebb and flow in its connection to Khaenri’ah.

The bigger clue here is the scrap left by Kaeya’s father. “it was the Alberich Clan, who did not have royal blood, who stepped in as regents when the strength of the one-eyed king Irmin failed."We learned later that was specifically Anfortas. Chlothar admits he basically left immediately and did not participate in the council Anfortas set up. Chlothar was entirely focused on Caribert. Meanwhile, Anfortas was stalling the Abyss, fighting the monsters, made a council to govern. He even made his way all the way up to Sumeru where he met up with the darshan that became the Order of Skeptics. So far he does not have appeared to have interacted with Dainsleif which would explain why Dainsleif doesn’t know. Dainsleif might only think he died later. The Cryptic Message in Sumeru, the coded message left in ruin machines, is decrypted using Anfortas as a key and says “We Schwanenritters have fought to the last one.” If Dain found this he would have assumed this was Anfortas’s last message and these messages are found near the giant ruin golem north of Port Ormos. 

But that’s the thing. It’s near Port Ormos. A major population center. Anfortas was the last one. He lasted the longest. The Schwanenritters were on the surface for some time before giving in. But they were in the south. Dain was with the Pari in the north. It wouldn’t be surprising if Dainsleif missed something. And maybe Chlothar wasn’t the only Alberich to have a family with someone from the surface.

A bonus aside: Anfortas was also a Knight who lost an eye (he lost his left, a break in the pattern among Khaenri’ahns so far). He lost that eye to Hadura, someone who betrayed them and whose descendant is in the Abyss Order. He still gave her a proper knight’s funeral.

[alice-the-demon]

Curious to know more about peddito in your au, whats his backstory, how'd he come to be what he is? Does peppino know about him? Have they met? Is he like a mindless beast or are his thoughts more human-like? Can doise even be killed by peddito in this au if doise is already a demon? I mean you can't die twice, can you? Very curious, would love to know more!

Before I get to your questions it's time for

Hell Tower Lore

So that I can give more context to my answers

Hell is situated in a dimension parallel to Heaven, and it's represented as a huge yet claustrophobic cave with cities in it, and it's divided by four sections in which different stages of Demons end up.

The first stage is Imps, recognizable for the claws, fur, tail, horns and pointy ears. They're the kind of Demons that maintain most of their human traits, and they have different powers depending on the Sin they're most recognizable for. They were humans who, in their earthly life, did some bad/questionable stuff and/or have their moral compass a little junked, but they can be redeemed and become Angels through the help of an Archangel assigned to them.

The second stage is Hell Animals, they lose most of their human traits and become anthropomorphic creatures. You reach this Demon stage or in a direct manner (when you did major bad stuff on Earth) or you get transformed when your behaviour gets worse during your stay in Hell (Pokémon evolution style). They're more difficult to redeem, mostly because they can be extremely rude with everyone and old habits are hard to kill. But through willpower and time they can go back to become an Imp and get them a place in Heaven.

Finally there's the third and final stage of a Demon: the Hell Beasts. They were humans who did unforgivable things (like genocides, destruction of various properties or other stuff) or Hell Animals who sank too deep in their Sin to reel them back in. The Angels call this transformation "the point of no return", for these kinds of Demons there's no chance to redeem them. The Beasts are horrifying, dangerous and gigantic creatures, some with claws or hooves so big to leave prints and others with quills, scales or tusks so big to leave damages wherever they go. They have no love nor compassion in them, their only thought is attack and eat anyone who had the misfortune to meet their black pitch eyes or was stupid enough to venture in the forest with no defence.

The Seven Deadly Sins are the rulers of this infernal place, more powerful than anyone else in Hell but weaker than some high ranked Angels. Together Satan, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Mammon, Leviathan, Belphegor and (the self proclaimed leader of the bunch) Lucifer rule over the whole Hell, representing the worst in human kind. They all live in a castle at the center of Hell (even though most of the time they fight for the stupidest reasons), their job is to feed the Beasts (to avoid that they exit the forest and eat everyone in Hell) and directing the places each one of them built, which I've talked about previously.

I'll talk about the 7 Deadly Sins in more detail and the creatures born in Hell (Cerberuses, Lava Spirits, Golems, ect) in future posts.

Now, onto the questions you've made:

I don't have a precise backstory for how Peddito became a Beast (mostly because, at least for how much I know, we don't know much about him). So I'll just say that he did some inhuman things.

Peppino doesn't know about Peddito existence.

As I explained before, Beasts have no human thoughts, they only care about survival and eating.

There are two ways to kill a Demon and erase them from existence: or you expose them to the sunlight for a while (unless they're a Deadly Sin, they're immune to the sun's rays) or you badly injure them classic style (the Heaven weapons hurt them more than Earth weapons though).

Fun fact: Angels and Demons blood colours are different from humans, black for the Demons and golden for the Angels.