#in which shards is a goddess

[lady-protector]

and that's a wrap on my tarot series! the upright majors, at least. there may be others sometime in the future if I am seized by a combination of insanity and hyperfixation once again.

you might notice a few cards are a bit (or in the case of the fool and alternate chariot, a lot) different! I did a few retakes for consistency/style.

below the read more I've included a bunch of notes about symbolism and reasoning behind my choices if that interests you!

(tag for individual card posts)

0. The Fool: Ardbert was really the only choice for this one. He's our stand-in, our shard, our mirror. Feo Ul is included partially because of lore (they are my co-WoL's shard on the First) and also because they also fit the themes of adventure and new beginnings and exploration. Most of the cards I played pretty loose on the posing vs traditional depictions, but this one I wanted to hew a little closer, which is why he's on a cliff with a foot hanging over the edge a bit, with his axe standing in for the bindle. This is my second attempt at the card -- the first was in Il Mheg, but I moved it to Kholusia (Ardbert's home) and dawn to more closely symbolize that it's the beginning of something. Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 8/10, posing Feo Ul was annoying.

1. The Magician: This card could have had several subjects, chief among them Alphinaud or a more modern G'raha, but I settled on Alisaie a) because the other two cards I had in mind for her (Chariot and Justice) were already taken, and b) the card's focus on physical magic and depicting the "tools of the trade" reminded me a lot of Angelo's creation! So that's why she's here, and why I set the card in Matoya's Relict, among the tools of magicians who came before (Matoya, Y'shtola). I retook the shot because I was unsatisfied with the blurriness/the way the light covered her face in the first one. Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 5/10, simple pose but working with Impact's spell effect complicated things.

2. The High Priestess: Another that I never questioned who would appear on it. Y'shtola's arc is entirely about uncovering forbidden, secret knowledge and wisdom, so she fits beautifully. The blue-white orb and the purple staff depict duality between dark and light, and how Y'shtola walks in two worlds, seeing things that are beyond sight, standing before an altar/holy place to the Night's Blessed. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 2/10. Premade pose, knew where I wanted to place her -- the only thing was finding a prop for her off hand.

3. The Empress: Hoo boy did Minfi give me some trouble. I knew that I wanted our Antecedent, who provides both authority and care for the Scions, to represent the Empress, but I struggled to find a depiction that wasn't, well, boring. Minfilia is deeply linked with the Solar, and I didn't want to lean too hard into Word of the Mother/Hydaelyn territory, so I settled on a triple goddess-like idea. Attempts: 3. Difficulty: 6/10. Not mechanically difficult, just conceptually.

4. The Emperor: Another one that I knew who I wanted but struggled with the concept. Haurchefant is very much emblematic of the stability, structure, and masculinity provided by the Emperor, but it wasn't until I decided to add his equally-Emperor-coded father that things settled into place. Together, Edmont and Haurchefant evoke the image of father and son as well as king and knight, filling both major male authority roles that the Emperor exemplifies. Attempts: 4. Difficulty: 6/10. Same as the Empress.

5. The Hierophant: this one was one of the hardest to choose a subject for -- the WoL's allies are largely a bunch of revolutionary firebrands, and I disagree HEAVILY with the popular choice of placing Aymeric here. So I landed on Alphinaud -- out of the Scions, he is the one most concerned with tradition and the "right" way to do things, with formal education and structure. He wants to bring Sharlayan into the modern day, not upend the institutions that raised him and that he very much still respects, much like how he still respects his very traditionally Hierophant-coded father. So I placed him in his family home with a sort of smug look since he can be a pretentious little shit sometimes (affectionate). The spell effect is from Kardia, and I paid special attention to having the shapes align perfectly with the lines in the background, to give a sense of stability and order to the shot, especially contrasted with Alisaie's more dynamic and chaotic depiction. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 4/10, entirely in alignment.

6. The Lovers: Hrasevelgr and Saint Shiva are a great choice for depicting the Lovers as two people, but no one does the Lovers in one subject better than Ysayle. Invoking the spirit of a woman who died for love in order to bring harmony to her people, but it truly being her own power and her own choice the whole time... it's great. Her pose is her transformation/summoning pose, turned into a gesture of affection, which I was particularly proud of. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 3/10, posing monsters is always a little funky.

7. The Chariot: This one has two options -- my co-WoL, Marz, and Tataru/Cid/Nero for the NPC variant. All 4 characters share a singular drive and refusal to let anything stop them once they've set their mind to something, and the 3 NPCs have the added benefit of being associated with a literal "chariot" in the form of airship design. Marz's place on Shadowkeeper has some lore associations (Cylva is her shard on the 13th) as well as being a void mirror to Kaede's sin eater shot. For both I wanted to have dynamic poses to evoke the activity of the card. Attempts: 1 (Marz), 2 (NPCs). Difficulty: 3/10 for both, no major hurdles once the lovely @/karoiseka pointed me at an airship in NG+.

8. Justice: The heart of the Justice card is its emphasis on truth, and no character in FFXIV is more committed to truth even in the face of great suffering than Aymeric de Borel. Because of this, the shot is taken at the top of the Vault, where he confronted his father over his concealment of the truth of the Dragonsong War. The card is usually depicted with a woman holding a sword and balanced scales -- Aymeric is holding his sword in a pose used in statues in the Pillars, and the symmetry of the shot/light and shadow split down the middle is meant to give the feeling of balance. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 1/10. I knew my concept, location, and shader before I even went in, and it came out exactly like I wanted.

9. The Hermit: Originally I had Urianger for this card, who still fits well, but when I moved him to Wheel of Fortune, there was a clear second choice: The Exarch. He even resembles the Hermit, with his cloak and staff, holding himself in isolation and possessing secret knowledge with which he guides the party. G'raha has grown out of this role as of Endwalker, but the Exarch fits it to a tee. I wanted to show his longing to return through his body language and reaching out for the portal that shows him the world he is set apart from. Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 4/10. Nothing major but did have to do two entirely separate cards lmao.

10. The Wheel of Fortune: The one I struggled with the most, conceptually. At first I had a more abstract choice, with the 3 starting city state leaders and Tataru, in a sort of "fate leads to the Scions" idea. But then I remembered that Urianger is a fortune teller who uses a wheel-like weapon with a literal wheel of cards, and, well. Yeah. The man is intimately associated with fate and choice, and the choice to place him on the moon is intentional, to separate him from his more secretive depictions in HW/ShB. He is the one who prepares our second option (flight) while giving us the choice to make our first (fight). Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 7/10. He's up on a high ledge that's not normally accessible and that's always a pain in the ass.

11. Strength: The one that started it all. The original shot of Kaede contained some layer elements I wasn't happy with so I ended up retaking it to better cohere with the others. Strength is about confidence and inner strength "leashing" power, symbolized by the woman and the tamed lion, and there's exactly one good lion model in XIV -- Forgiven Cruelty. It also has the fun side meaning of Kaede conquering and wielding the light that almost killed her. For Moenbryda's, I went with something simple -- her axe to symbolize her strength, but with her archon mark and the Sharlayan Thaliak statue prominently featured, emphasizing her intelligence. Attempts: 2 (Kaede), 1 (Moenbryda). Difficulty: 6/10. Kaede's was straightforward enough (though I had to wait an annoyingly long time for the sky to shift colors correctly), but Moenbryda's involved me floating her up on a building so i could get Thaliak in the shot correctly.

12. The Hanged Man: Holy moly this one was a PAIN IN THE ASS. I knew from the minute I started this what I wanted to do with it -- Lahabrea holding Thancred's ankle as he reaches for Minfilia. The Hanged Man is one that I felt it was especially important to mimic the iconic pose on the card, and this was how I decided to do it, but it took me over an hour and a half to accomplish. Anyway, the Zodiark idol stands in for the Tree of Life, which I really liked. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 10/10. Absolutely infuriating to have to pose 3 actors in three dimensional space like that.

13. Death: I only ever considered Estinien for this card. It stands for transformation and change, for shedding the old to make way for the new, and I chose to depict that by having his old corrupted drachen mail posed behind him like a shadow or an abandoned husk. He has left the hate and the rage behind, but the helmet is meant to symbolize that he always remembers it, and carries it with him so that he can do better. His lance is also vaguely reminiscent of the traditional Death scythe. That spot in Coerthas is where he challenges you in the early DRG quests while controlled by Nidhogg, as well as being just visually striking. Attempts: 1, but it took a while. Difficulty: 9/10. The ground is very much not flat, the helmet is on a minion, and I had to change angles and locations a few times.

14. Temperance: I briefly considered Hythlodaeus here, but Krile fits very well. Calm, competent, but unsure of her own worth. I chose Eureka Hydatos both for its importance to Krile as well as its easily accessible water -- instead of pouring from a cup, Krile is looking at her reflection. This one came together so quickly and easily. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 1/10. In and out of Eureka in less than 20 minutes.

15. The Tower: Originally, before I reshuffled, G'raha was going to be the Tower simply because I didn't know where to put him, and I couldn't think of an ally who is ultimately a destructive force, but it always bothered me because he truly didn't fit. Meteion, though -- despite her innocence and unwillingness, is THE destructive force within Endwalker's story. This card had the highest hurdles -- I had to get 7 friends to help me queue for Endsinger and then leave, and I almost couldn't get my tools to load Meteion in properly. After that it was smooth sailing, however. I used the whole lockout timer, but this was only the 4th shot I took, and it's one of my personal favorites. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 4/10, purely for queuing.

16. The Devil: Addiction, obsession, and control -- Zenos was the only answer for this card. I included Zero as well, despite intending this to be a primarily 6.0 and earlier set, to represent the humans bound in chains to the Devil, using the way she's pinned between Zenos and the scythe to symbolize that she's trapped. Afterward I realized this exact shot and character choice would have also worked quite well for the Tower, as well, but I ultimately prefer the Devil for him. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 3/10. Came together surprisingly easily, despite the fact that I had to make Zero's hat touch pose myself.

17. The Star: Symbolizing hope and new life, I can think of no one better suited than Ryne and the Empty. Ryne herself was given her own new life when Minfilia passed on her power, and the ability to make her own destiny -- and she used that power to revitalize a barren wasteland. My first version of this shot had a photoshopped in central star, but I decided to revisit the concept with an in game effect for the star instead. Helios provided what I needed, with the fun extra benefit of some additional rainbows (happy pride!). Attempts: 3. Difficulty: 3/10. Nothing crazy beyond trying to find a good angle to get the star in the shot, as well as Eden and the rainbow crystal. Second attempt I messed up the framing and had to redo it again.

18. The Moon: The card of dreams, fear, anxiety, and secrets, Gaia is perfect here (and a lovely companion to Ryne as the Star), though I did briefly consider Urianger as well. I wanted to have Gaia on the sand, with the moon hanging between the crystal walls of the Empty above her, but the angles would NOT cooperate to allow me to get the moon in the shot. So, levitation was the only answer. Fortunately it suits Gaia well, especially the distance that it evokes. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 6/10. I hate midair posing.

19. The Sun: Another card that sprang fully formed into my mind. Joy and fulfillment is symbolized by Lyse enjoying the morning light in a free Ala Mhigo, thinking of Papalymo. It also allowed me to get both of these very different characters into a single card, as they are very much a package deal, though I did consider Papalymo for the Hierophant as well. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 2/10. Came together very quickly.

20. Judgement: The last two cards of the Major Arcana are very high concept, with very lofty ideals, so they felt hard to pin down. I thought of doing both my WoLs here, or maybe Elidibus with his three forms for light, dark, and balance. But ultimately I ended up on Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus, as the sort of "final judgement" before the battle with the endsinger, the last step before everything ends. Their literal rebirth, the resolution of Emet-Selch's conflict with the WoL, the not-redemption but understanding reached, our efforts judged worthy -- it all just seemed to fit. The card design is simple but I hope the colors and emotion of the scene carry the weight of the arcana. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 2/10. No major roadblocks.

21. The World: At last we arrive at the end, not only the last posted but the last taken as well. I always knew I wanted Venat/Hydaelyn for this card, as she is the literal heart of our world, as well as an Azem who has reached the end of her journey, as Ardbert was one who was at the beginning of his all the way back at the Fool. But when I didn't use Elidibus anywhere else, I decided to add him here as well, since he also served as the heart of the star for a time. Light and dark united together, watching over Etheirys. The one who destroyed our world in order to save it, and the one who saved our world only to try to destroy it. Perfect symmetry, a completion of the circle. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 9/10. I had to stitch together 3 separate screenshots in photoshop, with the fore and backgrounds cut apart so I could control the opacities separately. Probably the card that took me the longest, but it was worth it.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Magic-Related Vocabulary

for your next poem/story

Amulet: An object worn, carried or placed to guard against negativity or other vibrations. A protective object.

Astral Projection: The practice of separating the consciousness from the physical body so that the former may move about unhindered by time, space or gravity.

Bane: A poison; that which destroys life. "Henbane" is poisonous to hens.

Banish: To drive away evil, negativity or spirits.

Beltane: An ancient folk-festival day observed by Witches that celebrates the fully blossomed spring. April 30 or May 1.

Censer: A vessel of metal or earthenware in which incense is burned. An incense burner.

Chaplet: A garland or wreath of flowers or leaves worn on the head, as in the chaplets given to classical Greek heroes as symbols of honor.

Clairvoyance: Literally "clear seeing." The ability to perceive facts, events and other data by other than the five "normal" senses, unaided by tools.

Curse: A concentration of negative and destructive energy, deliberately formed and directed toward a person, place or thing.

Divination: The art of finding things out through means other than the five senses, using tools such as tarot cards, crystal balls, and so on.

Enchant: "Sing to." Magically speaking, a procedure whereby herbs are aligned with your magical need prior to their use.

Evil Eye, The: Supposed glance capable of causing great harm or fear, once almost universally feared.

Fascination: The art of placing other people under one's power through sounds, gazes, colors, etc.

Hex: An evil spell; a curse.

Incubus: A male demon or spirit which was believed to sexually tempt and abuse women; the succubus was the corresponding female demon.

Infusion: An herbal tea.

Lughnasadh: An old harvest festival celebrated on August 1st or 2nd in Europe, reverencing the abundant (harvested) fruits of the Earth. It is still observed by Wicca.

Magic: The practice of causing needed change through the use of powers as yet undefined and unaccepted by science.

Magic Circle: A ritually-created circle (or sphere) that offers protection to the magician during magical rites.

Magician: A person of either sex who practices magic.

Magus: A magician.

Midsummer: The Summer Solstice, usually on or near June 21st, one of the Wiccan festival days and an excellent time to practice magic.

Pendulum: A tool of divination which consists of a heavy object suspended from a string or cord. The end of the cord is held between the thumb and forefinger; questions are asked and their answers divided by the movements of the pendulum.

Pentagram: A five-pointed star which has been used in magic for centuries. Highly symbolic, it is also a protective device.

Poppet: A small doll made of various substances to influence a person's fife. In herb magic, either a carved root or a cloth image stuffed with herbs. The use of poppets is known as "image magic."

Power Hand, The: The hand you write with; the dominant hand. This is a magically potent hand.

Samhain: An ancient festival day marking the beginning of winter. Also known as "Halloween" and All Hallows Eve. It is observed by Wicca with religious ceremonies.

Scry: To gaze into a pool of ink, fire, crystal ball, etc. to awaken and summon psychic powers.

Spell: A magical rite.

Talisman: An object worn or carried to attract a specific influence, such as love, luck, money, health; as opposed to an amulet which keeps forces from its bearer.

Wicca: A contemporary religion with spiritual roots in prehistory that worships the life-force of the universe as personified as a God and Goddess. It is sometimes erroneously referred to as "witchcraft."

Witch Bottle: A bottle or jar containing herbs, pins, shards of glass and other objects, designed to protect a person or area from evil and curses. Usually buried or placed in a window.

Witchcraft: The practice of natural magic, as that of herbs, stones, and candles. Spell-casting. Still used by some to refer to the religion of Wicca.

Wort: An old word meaning "herb." Mugwort preserves the term.

Excerpt from Cunningham's Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs More: Word Lists ⚜ Esoteric Vocabulary ⚜ On Magic

[dinrelsanddragons]

so for this post from ovegakart i'm imagining spell rules going along these lines...

Nayru's Shield: Level 3 Abjuration Casting Time: 1 Action Range: Self Components: V, S, M (A blessing from a Great Fairy worth 1000 rupees) Duration: Concentration, up to 1 minute The love and protection of the goddess Nayru shields you. You gain resistance to all damage for the duration. Additionally, this spell also summons a magic shield into your hand, granting the benefits of wielding a shield even if you are not proficient with shields. If you do not have a free hand, the shield does not appear, and this benefit is not granted. Finally, this spell also generates an emanation of protection around you, granting a +1 bonus to AC for any ally inside it, you excepted.

Nayru's Mirror: Level 3 Abjuration Casting Time: 1 Action Range: Self Components: V, S, M (A blessing from a Great Fairy worth 1000 rupees) Duration: Concentration, up to 1 minute The love and protection of the goddess Nayru reflects damage directed at you. You gain resistance to all damage for the duration. Additionally, creatures of your choice within 5 feet of you must make a Dexterity saving throw, taking 2d6 force damage on a failed save or half as much damage on a successful save, as shards of Nayru's protection strike them. Finally, ranged weapon attacks and ranged spell attacks that hit you are reflected off of you after dealing their damage, striking the original attacker for half their damage.

Notes: I split Nayru's Love into two spells, for Link and for Zelda. For Link: I figure this should be a hefty spell given the immense benefits it offers, but still accessible to an Eldritch Knight like Link. So I made it level 3. I'm also not sure about the concentration on it, since you can get smacked but it doesn't drop, I just wanted to make it slightly less busted by making it eat the caster's Concentration. For Zelda: More offensive, I originally thought like Armor of Agathys but re-read the handwriting and realized lol nope. So I made it so enemies who attack and hit you take the half damage that the shield stops you from eating.

Farore's Wind: Level 3 Conjuration Casting Time: 1 Action Range: Self Components: V, S, M (A blessing from a Great Fairy worth 100 rupees) Duration: Instantaneous Briefly surrounded by the divine gales of the goddess Farore, you teleport to a location within sight. Using a Higher-Level Spell Slot: You can teleport to any location you know within 1000 feet (4th level spell slot), any location you know within 5 miles (5th level spell slot), any location you know within 100 miles (6th level spell slot), or to any location you know on this plane of existence (7th level spell slot). If you cast this spell at 5th level or higher, there is a cumulative 15% chance for each level above 4th it is cast at (up to 45% with a 7th level spell slot) for a mishap to occur, sending you to a false destination. Holding or carrying an object linked to the intended destination removes this chance.

Notes: I figure the inspiration spells for this should be Misty Step (but range increased to 'anywhere within sight'), Dimension Door (range increased), and Teleport. It's a sort of catch-all spell. The only issue is that, in order to make it NOT BUSTED AS FUCK (which is already is tbh), I had to level-scale it, which seriously kneecaps Link as an Eldritch Knight. I also had to add in that a mishap can occur because even Teleport isn't perfect.

Din's Fire Level 3 Evocation Casting Time: 1 Action Range: Self Components: V, S, M (A blessing from a Great Fairy worth 300 rupees) Duration: Instantaneous An explosion of Din's holy flames blasts from you in a 20-foot emanation. Each creature in this emanation makes a Dexterity saving throw, taking 8d6 fire damage on a failed save or half as much damage on a successful one. Flammable objects in the area that aren't being worn or carried start burning. Using a Higher-Level Spell Slot: The damage increases by 1d6 for each slot level above 3.

Notes: It's Fireball as an emanation, why not.

Zelda's Light Level 3 Transmutation Casting Time: 1 Bonus Action Range: Touch Components: V, S Duration: 1 hour You touch a nonmagical weapon. Until the spell ends, that weapon becomes a magic weapon with a +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls. Additionally, when a creature hits another creature with that weapon, a bright flash of light accompanies the strike. The target must make a Constitution saving throw (using the caster's spell save DC) or be blinded until the end of its next turn. This spell ends early if you cast it again. Using a Higher-Level Spell Slot. The bonus increases to +2, and the weapon deals an additional 3d6 radiant damage with a 4-6 level spell slot. The bonus increases to +3, and the weapon deals an additional 6d6 (instead of 3d6) radiant damage with a 7+ level spell slot.

Notes: It's magic weapon but added blinding and radiant.

Lens of Truth Wondrous Item, Very Rare (requires attunement) While wearing this lens over your eyes, you have Truesight with a range of 120 feet.

Notes: Should this be legendary? True Seeing is a 6th level divination spell, so maybe! I made it attunement so you can't just pass it between people for a free action or whatever and you need to know it well to use it.

BONUS POINTS (or rather, an edit)

Ocarina of Time Wondrous Item, Artifact This ocarina has been protected by the royal family of Hyrule for ages, and is said to have a powerful connection to the unnamed goddess of time. You can take a Magic action to play a song on the Ocarina of Time, with each song producing a different effect or casting a spell. You must know a song in order to play it.

Zelda's Lullaby – When you play this song, this Ocarina opens a magical lock, or has other magical effects based on other locations which specify this song. This song has no effect on nonmagical locks. Epona's Song – When you play this song, you can cast the spell Find Steed at its base level of 2. Saria's Song – When you play this song, you can cast the spell Sending. The only possible recipient of the spell when cast in this way is the Fey known as Saria. Sun's Song – When you play this song, you can cause day to become night or night to become day, depending on what time it is when you play it. The passage of this time is instantaneous to the Ocarina's player, and does not confer the benefits of a long or short rest, nor does it impose the penalties of forgoing a long rest. Song of Time – When you play this song, you can open the Door of Time or cause obstacles bearing the symbol of the goddess of time to permanently disappear. If this song is played in the realm of Termina, it has an entirely different effect: You can go back in time to a maximum of three days, although in doing so you must forfeit all ammunition (nonmagical and magical) and rupees to go back. Upon returning to the past, all magic item charges are restored, and you gain the benefits of a Long Rest. You cannot use the Song of Time again for another three days. Song of Storms – When you play this song, you can cause the weather around you to suddenly and inexplicably become intensely stormy and rainy, complete with thunder and lightning. This storm lasts for ten minutes, after which time it vanishes. Effects of the storm remain. Warp Songs – When you play any of these songs, you can cast the spell Teleportation Circle, with each song being linked to a specific circle and sending those who stand in the circle's area there: the Minuet of the Forest will send to Kokiri Forest; the Bolero of Fire will send to Death Mountain's crater; the Serenade of Water will send to Lake Hylia; the Nocturne of Shadow will send to the graveyard of Kakariko Village; the Requiem of Spirit will send to the Desert Colossus in the Gerudo Desert; and the Prelude of Light will send to the Temple of Time in Hyrule Castle Town. Scarecrow's Song – When you play this song, you magically summon a wooden scarecrow to a location you can see within 60 feet of you. The Scarecrow is a Construct with 10 HP, AC 10, a movement speed of 0 ft., and immunity to psychic and poison damage. It vanishes when you play this song again. Inverted Song of Time – When you play this song, you can cast the spell Haste on yourself. Song of Double Time – When you play this song, you can magically cause twelve hours of time to pass by. The passage of this time is instantaneous to the Ocarina's player, and does not confer the benefits of a long or short rest, nor does it impose the penalties of forgoing a long rest. Song of Healing – When you play this song, you can cast the spell Calm Emotions, with the added ability to affect any creature capable of having emotions as opposed to solely humanoids. Song of Soaring – When you play this song, you can cast the spell Dimension Door. Elegy of Emptiness – When you play this song, you can create a lifeless statue of yourself. This statue is an eerie reflection of you and weighs the same as you do. It is a Construct that has an amount of Hit Points equal to half your maximum Hit Points, your Armor Class, and it has immunity to psychic and poison damage. It is also incapable of moving on its own.

Notes: No Sonata of Awakening, Goron Lullaby, New Wave Bossa Nova, or Oath to Order because they have extremely specific purposes.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Chains of Bones: DARK!GODAEMOND X READER chapter 5: Shards of destiny

Tags: DARK AEMOND, GREEK MYTHOLOGY INSPIRED AU

🔷Summary: You are a servant working for the goddess Rhaenyra and the God Daemon. You are tasked with protecting the flowers and one day, you find yourself captured by rhaenyra's greatest enemy: Aemond.

🔷Author's note: Dark af.

WARNINGS: Misogny, (no kidding) emotional manpulation, dubcon, body betrayl, vaginal sex (f recv) oral sex (f recev) rough sex, mentions of loss of virginty, emotional gaslighting and gore, blood, and a lot of...BONES.

This is a dead dove

Do not eat it.

(a+ warning)

wordcount:3730 (she's a bit tiny, but that's because we are finally getting somewhere!!!!!)

You are busy trying on different hats and scarfs to hide your horns. Most hats aren't made for that, however and won't fit without you impaling the luxurious fabric it's made of. Whoever made them put in so much love and detail, that you couldn't possibly destroy it like that. It would also be useless. Because you only end up looking more ridiculous with the hat on your horns then without.

The scarfs do cover the horns but only call more attention to them. It seems that no matter what, you'll be seen with the horns whether you want it or not.

The dress you wear is a smaller elegant gown, with a smaller skirt so that it doesn't cover half the space you walk around in. The bodice has sapphires attached to the neckline, and judging by the heaviness they are all but too real. The fabric feels as a soft but expensive pillow that can lure you to sleep any moment. It was the best and less extravagant gown you and Ann could find in the big closet Aemond arranged for you.

It still is very dramatic, calling out as a lighthouse to sailors lost on the dark sea. But it is less of an attraction than that other gown you saw earlier. You have considered escaping via the balcony with the gown, using it as some parachute. But Aemond warned you unintentionally that even grass can kill you.

If you somehow were killed you don't know what will happen to your mortal soul since you are captive in a unique situation. But you don't intend to find out.

The worst part of your new life is not even not knowing what is happening, which is bad enough. But it's the pure boredom that comes with being a Queen. You have a handmaid now, who does everything for you. 

Someone else sows your dresses, someone else polishes your jewelry, someone else prepares your food and someone else arranges how the tray is filled. You are unsure how to keep sane if you aren't allowed to do anything or go anywhere.

The door is pushed open, revealing your handmaiden with two large trays in a golden colour decorated with sapphire gems on either side of the tray. The tray alone could cost a small fortune. Ann balances the trays and you stand up, ready to run to her in case she drops the trays. But she has done this longer than you have and acts with such grace and decorum that it makes you a bit jealous of her, the Handmaiden.

You push those dark thoughts away as Ann puts the trays on what you assume is a writing desk. “Your breakfast, your Highness. His grace, the King wants you to fill in a form so us servants know what treats and sweets you like and what you absolutely despise. The King will have us killed if we serve anything you can't stand.” She says with a disturbing cheerful tone and a big smile.

You know she is frightened. Who wouldn't be in her position. You don't doubt that Aemond is bluffing for a moment. He would kill someone for something like that. And he definitely killed for less. You just don't think it would be worth the effort. Isn't this the Underworld? Aren't the servants already dead? Can you even kill dead people? He stated so before: No one but you has come here without the intentions of the design.

You understand Ann is dead too. You stare at her, suddenly realising that she is part of the system. She did not came here out of nowhere. She was put here by the design. She has reasons to be in the Underworld. 

“I-” You mutter, making a bit of distance Between the two of you. Ann seems confused, tilting her head as her big brown eyes stare at you.

She smiles, rambling on, excited beyond words. You wonder if Aemond even allows her to see other beings, the way she speaks tells you how incredibly lonely she must bel. “And of course, you do have your own taster but you won't be introduced to them. They will be kept a secret for your safety and their own. Only his Grace knows who they are.” She tells you with a wink.

You had prepared to eat a perfectly ripe apple, but you drop it out of pure shock on the desk. 

A taster? You stare at the food, suddenly alarmed of the danger you are truly in.

“What-” You nearly shout distraught.

Ann makes movements with her arms that are supposed to calm you down. “And finally, my Queen, his Grace would like to know if you have any allergies or sensitivities or dislikes for certain fabrics, flowers, plants, fruits, animals, creatures in general or-” She needs a moment to calm herself down after rambling so much. You invite her to sit by patting your bed.

“Easy, Ann. Do not tire yourself. Come sit.” Her eyes widen as if you just suggested that you will kill Aemond. She is shocked, backing away from you in fear, quickly looking around the room, if somehow Aemond didn't hear you. She shakes her head furiously.

“It's for you, my Queen. I-I couldn't possibly.’ She stutters. “The fabric is the softest in the world. The King had it sent and brought down during a special journey to the world above. He stitched the initials in the blankets himself.” You feel the blanket and it's indeed quite soft. It's an extra one that wasn't there when you woke up. Aemond put it here later via magic without you even noticing him or the blanket. 

“He stitched it himself?” You find that a bit odd. You chuckle. Ann glares, furiously.

You have to see It. Aemond doing manual labour seems so funny to you. So out of character. You glance at the blanket, looking for where he stitched.

You expect to see a proper delicate and neat example of perfect embroidery. It's made with gold tread so that it fits the red blanket properly. But you see a golden, messy and complicated stitch that was clearly done by an amateur. You notice a black spot near the T. Blood. His blood.

The work might be amateurish. It is sloppy and imperfect. But it silences you and all your thoughts somehow. Your thumb softly touches the signature.  “He spent days on it, my Queen.” Ann whispers as you stare at the blanket, feeling conflicted emotions. You feel so guilty. He deserves your ire. He deserves your vengeance in fact. 

You want to believe his lies.

You want to believe that someone can genuinely love you without agenda and limits. But you can't. 

This is maybe the kindest and somehow less selfish thing anyone has ever done for you. 

“Why? He doesn't even know me.” you tear up, your chest heavy. “I am not worthy of it. Of any of this.” You say, quickly standing up.

Ann disagrees. “Everyone is worthy of love, my Queen. The King put in so much effort and love.” He really did.

He kidnapped you. And that is wrong of him. But you can see, he put in a insane amount of effort in your room. And not just things that are priceless. He talks with you the way no one would ever talk. He thinks you a human being, not a dirty rat. He seems charmed by your wit and you love seeing his stoic face become enchanted and slowly form a smile.

“He tried his best.” You conclude, cursing as your nose sniffles. You keep circling the A. Ann nods, smiling that you finally appreciate something around here.

She tells as she picks up your apple. “It was his first attempt. Me and a few other girls came forward and suggested we would be happy to make the blanket for you, my Queen. We said we wouldn't mind. ”

You can imagine how that went, almost picturing Aemond standing in front of the group of girls, shouting and hissing as he grumpily went off to his own room.

“Aemond didn't like that.”

Ann nods. “How did you guess?”

His character you want to say. But it's not that. Its more than that. “He sees it as that he is failing whenever someone offers him help.” You mutter.

The way regret and sorrow fill Ann's eyes make you think she somewhere truly wants the best for the king. “I never saw it that way. What makes you think that?”

Because it's what you think when someone offers their help to you. You would feel as if whatever you did also was not good enough. Same as him. You know it too well. “Because I'm the same way.” You admit.

It's the most horrible feeling. Especially if you already feel like you are on your own and don't matter to anyone.

Ann watches you cuddle and pet your blanket unaware it is causing your mood to become calm and collected. It has a smoothing warmth and a comforting smell. Its quite the comfort. “My Queen, do you want me to put one of the trays on the bed? You should eat.” She says, kindly. “In your condition-”

Oh Gods. Not this again.

“I'm not pregnant.” You say, clearing the air right away. Her smile dies. She stares at your belly. 

She nods. She talks to herself in her head almost, reminding herself she has a duty to you and the King. “You shouldn't be too worried, my Queen. You and the King only made love once. It doesn't have to mean anything.” You are confused at first. Until you understand she thinks you are upset that you are not yet carrying a pocketsize Aemond in your belly.

You grab her hands. “Ann, I'm not upset.” She smiles, relieved. “Me and Aemond made a deal, in fact.” Her smile dies, alarmed.

“The King says he loves you, my Queen. I want to believe his words. I want to believe better days are coming for us all. But I cannot gather my hope in case it'll be destroyed.” You understand that. Hope can be a powerful light. or an ever looming darkness.

You decide to address her feelings as they overlap with the fact that you are worried that its all pretend. “Do you think Aemond is lying?’

She shrugs. “I think there is a thin line between love and obsession and that Gods cross it more often than us Mortals. Protect your heart, my Lady. That is all I say.” He said before when He first took you that you could make his heart beat again and that you were prophesied to become his Queen.

When You held the bone crown…

You watch her prepare the tea and put bread on a plate for you. You stand up. “I, I can make my own breakfast.” You say. “Can I speak with Aemond? I want to see if we can arrange maybe something for me to do.” Ann nods, putting the plates aside at once.

She smiles, beaming. “An activity is a great choice. Perhaps you could do something fun with the King. He likes hunting and reading. Maybe that's something you can both enjoy. I'll notify him right away!” She rushes off before you can stop her, before you can tell her you do not enjoy reading nor killing.

You sit in silence. Your gut tells you that Ann is hiding something as well. So is Aemond. There is something that is not adding up to her. One part of her seems so afraid and scared, while another part seems so eager to have him fall in love. You think.

Maybe those two parts aren't two parts at all. She wants you to soften him. You sigh, falling back on the bed. You already had so many worries. 

You close your eyes for a brief moment, until you hear a small voice in your head remind you that Aemond is being fetched now by Ann. And how dangerous that idea truly can be.

You stand up, almost tripping over your own feet as you rush after her. Your room leads to a big confusing hallway, likely enchanted. You see many doors. You close your eyes, and just try the first door.

You are back in the throne room. The throne made of bones has somehow become bigger since you last saw it. Aemond is indeed present, his silver blood streaked hair catching the light of the many chandeliers. Ann is near him, being choked.

You growl, approaching with fast feet and don't even trip once over your dress. “Aemond! Stop that at once!” But he does not stop. He seems to be in another world entirely. He is furious, seething, blinded by bloodlust.

You see no other way. You look around for a weapon or something to hurt him. Two big vases in a black colour stand near the bone throne. You grab one, marching it over to Aemond. Ann protests as you raise the vase, but you ignore her.

The vase cuts through his skin, shaking him awake. You are shocked to see dark, black blood coming from the wound you created. You feel your horns, as they begin to sting.

Aemond, now startled, drops Ann painfully on the ground.

You rush to her first, inspecting her throat worried he hurt her. “Ann, I'm so sorry.” You say.

Ann cries tears of relief. “It is fine, your highness. Please do not let my cries interrupt your beautiful morning.” You gawk at her response, at a loss for words. She is crying and shaking and yet all she cares about is how she ruined your morning. As if this is all somehow her fault. it's yours. You should've told Aemond she did a good job. 

He hisses in pain. You are shocked that you hurt him but furious all the same. You help your handmaiden stand up. “Are you alright?” you ask. “I am sorry, Ann. Please, go back to my room and help yourself to some sweets and food. You can have whatever you like.”

She hesitates, staring at the King.

“I-”

You give her a gentle push, towards the door. She needs to go and now. She will only be injured if she stays here.

“Go!” You shout.

Aemond sighs, as the wounds close before your very eyes. The shards rearrange themselves back into the vase it once was. You feel ashamed and guilty. “Care to explain to me why you hitted me on my head?” He remarks, adjusting the crown he wears a tiny bit.

He makes it sound as if it's your fault you defended your handmaid. The only kind soul here.  “You hurt Ann. She only asked what I wanted to ask. I'm bored, Aemond. I want to do things and go to places.”

He sighs, reaching out to touch your hands. Your fingers feel the cold bones below his flesh somehow and you notice the fingers warm up as you allow him to hold you.

“The world is too dangerous now for you. Once all the pieces have been put together, you and I will see as much as you like and do as much as you want.” He promises. Then, his eye narrows and you notice the darkness setting back in. “Why do you care so much for the help?” He adds, suspicious.

You aren't sure. She reminds you of yourself. Maybe that's it. Maybe there's something more. “She was kind and sweet. Gentle when brushing and bathing me. She told me some things.” You are reminded of something.

Destiny isn't always what we think it is.

Aemond growls, annoyed by your vague answers and silence. He drops your hands. “What sort of things? Did that brat gossip about me?” A bit but you won't admit it.

You shake your head. "No. It was about her mother. And how destiny sometimes isn't what you think it is. It…I…I felt something I didn't feel ever before. She comforted me. She told me about the blanket you arranged…” You reach out to his long fingers, yearning for his touch. You smile sweetly but he seems horrified by your words and actions alike.

He's ashamed, cornered and afraid. And that is when the monster comes out. “I will have her head.” He groans storming off in the direction Ann fled. You run after him, picking up your skirts to keep up with his long legs.

“It's your Godhood isn't it?” You ask, pausing him by grabbing his long cloak. Aemond pauses, annoyed.

You take a deep breath. “Why you are so angry? You want to make me feel at home. I understand you spent a time looking for me and even called in a favor to have me with Daemon. You are not known for asking for help.” You say. 

Aemond has one response. He leans in closer, huffs, and continues to chase down Ann. You yelp, running after him again, in an attempt to calm him down.

You block his path this time, staring into his eye and his sapphire socket. You both don't speak. You reach out to touch his cold face, and allow yourself to feel his cheek. He accepts this. You do it again with his other cheek, and notice how his rage seems to disappear. You need answers. And he is the only one who has them. You plot something small. “Might I know the man that's to be my husband? Would you perhaps like to tell me a bit more about yourself, for one? Not about the King. But about Aemond.” You ask.

He snarls, revealing his sharp teeth. He stares at the door of your room, aware he should chase Ann…

But he remains by your side instead. He crosses his arms, as a little boy and huffs, pretending to not care about your proposal at all. “Why would you even want to know? So you can kill me?” He makes his voice much bolder, but you can hear the pitch it makes when he speaks of you hurting him.

You shake your head. You can't expect Aemond to be honest without being honest yourself. You sigh. ‘Because people have been lying and betraying me my entire life. I could usually tell. If they want to hurt me. But with you, I can't. I can't tell what you want.” You say, and it comes right from your heart. 

Aemond's first reaction is a gentle, soft, hidden smile. Then it quickly becomes a smirk, as he grins, grabbing your arms.

“I must be one hell of an actor.’ He says, trying to play into the scheme that he might be here to kill you after all.

But you see through it this time.

“Or you truly try to protect and save me.” He doesn't speak after that. He keeps staring at you, making you a bit uncomfortable with his gaze.

You know you must make the effort. He gave it his all already. “You said before you gave me one chance. I am sorry for running. It's what I've been doing whenever life got scary. But I'd like us to maybe have dinner. And if you feel like it you can share some personal details.” You never been on any date before. 

Aemond turns his head away, but you see in the reflection of a pillar that his lips are curled into a smile. A joyful smile. He tries to be calm and collected but his voice makes an uncontrolled little jump. “Like what?”

You decide to not push it, and if he feels uncomfortable sharing his smile you won't force him. You shrug. “Well, your favourite meal and colour. Do you prefer sunset or Sunrise? Flowers and smells stuff like that.” You say, stepping closer, but giving him time to hide again. He doesn't hide this time, his lips slightly open as he stares at you. it's like he can't believe you are real.

You reach for his fingers. He accepts. You touch his fingers, feeling the strange dark and white nails with veins. “Things couples talk about.” You clarify.

“I-” He blushes, leaning against a pillar with a vase that falls to the ground. The vase breaks into dozens of little and big shards. He protects you by catching the shards, cutting him easily as he gawks, staring at his bloodied hands. Injured. Again.

His hands are soaked with it. Dark black crimson blood. You saw it before on the blanket.  “You are hurt.” You are shocked at the amount of blood. It's way too much. “When I threw the vase, I didn't expect...I Thought it wouldn't cut you. I assumed it would only scare you off.” You say, stuttering.

Aemond takes a deep breath, and when he opens his palms again, the cuts and wounds are gone. As is the blood. In its stead is a beautiful rose. “I am fine, my Love.” He offers you the rose with a smile. “I…I had to take my medication today. See it as that. I am fine, truly. Here, will you accept this rose?” You are surprised he even asks.

You ignore the rose, reaching for his hands instead to feel that he is alright yourself. The rose falls to the ground, as petals fall. You smile. “I am glad.” You don't know where that came from. But it is somehow the truth. 

Aemond opens his mouth, staring into your eyes as he gently takes hold of your chin. You close your eyes, preparing for the kiss. 

But when you open your eyes, Aemond is gone and you are back in your room again. Disappointment doesn't even cover half of your pain. You set your heart open for him and he closed the door on you. He doesn't love you. He only pretends so. He needs you for something. He lied.

He is just playing you. It's a lie. The prophecy. All of it. 

A rose arrives by a crow, who drops it in your lap. You stare at the small note that is attached to the note. You open it. “Something came up. But I'm free tonight. I am ready to share some answers, yours, truly, eternally, and faithfully, -Aemond.”

You watch as the crow flies away.

Answers.

At last.

----

(i had to cut the word count on this but the ones that come after i hope, i genuinely hope, the way its looking its going to be so juicy!

Next chapter, Aemond works out his little plan, Alicent has a lot of regrets and guilt, and Petal and Aemond share a delightful little cute dinner as he tells her the truth, finally. I can't wait for you all to see the truth because I had some comments who were CLOSE VERY CLOSE to the truth, but the truth-truth isnt guessed by anyone just yet...so i hope its a bombshell im dropping on yall xD.

Anyway thanks for reading. I cant believe the fic is so well recievied!

Aemond watching you/Petal sleep.

LMAO okay sorry do with that what you want.

Ok bye x

[teratocrat]

gryphongirl has soundly defeated the crocodile-boargirl of the lower valley, and saved your village, but now she wants to talk about payment. "i want icons here and here and here" she says, dragging talons like bronze daggers down the ancient timbers of your village's longhouse, which apparently as of right now also serves as her shrine. "burnt offerings and prayer four times a year, warmest night of each season, got it? or i will come back and trash this place worse than that other bitch ever did." you make some small involuntary noise of terror in the back of your throat that she evidently interprets as assent, for she relaxes, slumping back onto the splintered gouges she has just torn in the wall. "i don't want to sit around for the icon painters, though" she confides. "you guys probably dont have a kinko's or some shit? i couldn't just… print some selfies off the 'gram?" you are halfway through mumbling apologetically that the village's only printer was in fact in the library that she threw crocodile-boargirl through last night, and as such almost certainly only exists now as shards of plastic and metal and glass, when she suddenly lunges forward and pins you against the opposite wall, claws pressed firmly against the soft and fragile joints of your shoulder. The smell of her rolls over you like a summer storm, sweat and smoke and blood and ozone melting into an indescribable melange that stings your nostrils and the back of your throat. "what is that?" she asks with naked hunger in her voice, the string of amethysts around your neck transmuted to citrine in her golden gaze. you pull the Violet Starfall necklace over your head with one free hand - it was the greatest treasure of your priesthood, a sign of the covenant between the village and its catgirl-goddess Tenth Life Layabout, but Tenth Life Layabout met her end between crocodile-boargirl's jaws, and you have little time for sentimentality now. she drapes it over her head with one hand and removes the other from your shoulder to gesture obscurely: thin air turns to glossy black beside her, an obsidian mirror in which she admires how her newest treasure compliments her reflection. "ohhhh," she sighs, greasy smoke and wisps of magenta flame escaping the corners of her mouth. a noise like a revving motorcycle engine fills the room and rattles your bones; with a start you realise that gryphongirl is purring.

[ascendingaeons]

Hymn to Sekhmet

by Joey Rivers (ascendingaeons)

O Sekhmet, Great Eye of Ra, the First and the Last Healer and Destroyer, Mother and Daughter You Who accepted the Command of Ra, Your Father To cleanse the Two Lands of Isfet But Your nature was too mighty, Great of Strength as You Are Wanton and unrestrained, You ravaged Earth as a purifying flame And as Ra looked on and saw His Eye, He was stricken with pause By the Will of the Sun, Your Rage was quieted by a crimson brew And into transformative slumber You fell, Great Goddess And from Your great Rage, Het-Heru rose A new Eye was christened, of eros sublime And you, Great Mother, knew the sadness of regret

You, Great Goddess, know the measure of rage unbound And so You Stand, Great Mother of War, in defense and duty Of the Principles and Consequences of Ma’at Your Children are many, Great Lady of Life Diverse in their multitudes, empowered by their tribulation

Yours is the soldier, Your Mighty Sekhem made flesh and bone Entrenched in a maelstrom of fire and blood Returning home to a nation that does not understand him

Yours is the survivor, a living branch of Your burning Will triumphant Endeavoring to rise above the quagmire of loss and agony Through You their struggle is transmuted into the golden light of ka ascendant

Yours is the mother, she who knows sacrifice and sleepless nights A font unyielding of love and pride, of smiles and laughter perfected They who bear the weight of the world so a child can know childhood

Yours is the healer, an alchemist of the ontological persuasion He who is humbled by the frailty beholden to human experience He who ushers Your Sekhem through the riptide of transformative loss

Yours is the artist, through whose passions course Your Divine Fire Who walks the scales of inspiration and madness, knowing Creation unfiltered An alchemist versed in the milieus of perception

For You, Great Goddess, are the very Force of Change You are that which makes men tremble so Such an unnecessary fear, of wisdom and experience untouched Were I You, I would feel such sadness But how You smile, Great One! How You laugh! How You fight! You are not “she who cowers before Apep!” NO! You are the Great Lioness Who rends Chaos asunder! You fight and rage and bite and tear Passion and emotion alive and unrestrained!

You are Love, Great Goddess You are Fear, Great Goddess You are Devotion, Great Goddess You are Loss, Great Goddess You are Health, Great Goddess You are Sickness, Great Goddess This is why I call You the Mother of Life Your Ka is the very essence of experience! Your Sekhem is the very wind of change!

When I first called upon You, timid and unsure, I beheld Your Gaze, a window of fire open before my face And as quickly as You Saw me, You left And again when I called to You with offering of water and bread Exhausted by grief and devotion, tirelessly sung from a caregiver’s heart You came to me and my eyes were opened to You! As I lay without sleep, You stood at my bedside Stroking my back with strong hands of fire Whispering strength and courage into my ear As a sentinel You walked with me, a Mother Lioness guarding Her cub Such loyalty and tenderness You showed And my eyes were forever opened to Your nature

You are the very Force of Creation, the Monad of Being From which stems those primordial principalities Love and Fear, Physis and Logos, Known and Unknown Order and Disorder, Life and Death, Dynamism and Stasis

I offer henu to You, Great Goddess of Creation The endless potentiality and movement of the living cosmos The Fires Divine that Become living sinews and living earth

I offer henu to Your Husband Ptah, the Cosmic Smith Patron of artisans, of those who tirelessly toil In the pursuit of Bringing Into Being but a shard of the Sacred Unmanifest

I offer henu to Your Son, the Beautiful Nefertem The Ageless Lotus that rose from the Benben Stone The First Splendid Light to Shine in the churning Waters of Nun

It was You Who held my right hand as I accepted the mark of a healer And embraced me as a Mother would Her graduating son I offer You my pain, Great Goddess So that You may transmute it into Strength I offer You my fear, Great Goddess So that You may transmute it into Courage I offer You my uncertainty, Great Goddess So that You may transmute it into Wisdom

Into Your Belly I give of myself to unleash my greatest potential To burst from Your Bosom, shining and emboldened For there is nothing that is beyond Your Reach, Great Mother It is for me, now, to See that nothing is beyond my own

Dua Sekhmet! Dua Sekhmet! Dua Sekhmet!

[nyctoaerah]

⋆♱⋆RETRIBUTION CH: 5

⋆♱⋆SYPNOSIS You found yourself stripped of your immortality, a punishment for daring to flout the edicts laid down by your father. Your transgressions? Two-fold. First, the grave sin of disobedience, and Secondly, the cardinal offense of falling irrevocably in love with your Lady in waiting. In your father’s eyes, the sanctity of your divinity was tarnished by a same-gender relationship, a concept that he vehemently repudiated as aberrant and abhorrent. Such unforgivable love, he pontificated, dulled your goddess-like essence. Thus he used his powers and casted you adrift into a parallel universe suffused with curses and sorcerers whose love aren't really the healthy type of love, a punishment to show you that ‘Love’ isn’t all about sunshine and rainbows

⋆♱⋆WARNINGS Gore, Slow Burn Yandere, Love Percentage Au. Pseudo Incest on Choso’s Case. Confusing Bullshit. Sexual themes, Biological Incest. Unedited.

⋆♱⋆PAIRINGS Yandere! Jjk x Isekai’d! Goddess! Reader

⋆♱⋆LOVE INTERESTS Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Shoko Ieri, Yuki Tsukumo, Kento Nanami, Utahime Iori, Choso, Toji Fushiguro, Sukuna Ryomen

⋆♱⋆NOTE Also posted in wattpad & quotev. Hearts and Reblogs are greatly appreciated<3.

⋆♱⋆PREVIOUS CHAPTER

⋆♱⋆MASTERLIST

A GUST OF WIND whispered past you, its delicate fingers tracing a chill across your [S/c] skin, and a sigh escapes your lips, dark lashes fluttering shut.

You clutched at the shredded fabric of your gown, the pads of your fingers tracing the crushed remnants of the necklace nestled in your décolletage.

Though the chains had withstood the violence that had befallen on you, the jewel at its center now lay in glittering shards pressed against your heaving bosom.

How it was still intact after you almost drowned remained a mystery, however.

The shrill serenade of crickets hidden amongst the swaying grass reverberated on your ears, along with the soft yet loud pulsing within your chest and your ragged breaths clawing their way past your lips.

You opened your eyes and you peered into the inky shadows cloaking the forest, watching as the undulating branches danced and writhed in the pale moonlight.

The moon shone like polished pewter hanging heavy in the night sky, its pale glow casting the place in shades of silver. You sat on top of a rock with your elbows placed on your bent thighs, cupping your chin in weary palms as you gazed upward, drinking in the silvery glow of the moon that spilled across the darkened earth.

Moments like this brought bittersweet memories flooding back.

You recalled stolen nights with Ataraxia—Sneaking away from the empire and going down to Shaxilu to stargaze.

You missed how her silken hair would flow over your skin as you cradled each other, chatting and chuckling while naming constellations with breathy whispers

In those past evenings, Ataraxia would lay her head in your lap, finger-painting stories in the glittering sky as you watched, transfixed not by the heavenly wonders but the terrestrial beauty that you would always see in her eyes.

She was lost staring at the stars above...while You’re lost staring at the stars that you would see in her eyes.

With a heavy sigh, you dragged your fingers through your hair, just wanting to go back to her, just wanting to feel her lips on yours, feel her touch.

But then, how could you return there, when you’re stuck here on earth?

You find yourself trapped in a realm of ambiguity.

How are you supposed to go back to nebula?

It dawns on you that you are forbidden from returning to the celestial sanctuary of the nebula, after all.

You were Exiled.

A surge of frustration erupts within you, and a groan bubbles up your throat.

Why the fuck did you have to get such a cruel father? It was so unfair, so, so, so unfair.

While others may envy your lineage—for having the creator of the universe as your father, for you, it is a harrowing nightmare from which you cannot awaken.

To them, aionarch may be a deity to worship, a deity to fear and respect, but to you, he is a tyrant to despise.

The loathing you nurture towards aionarch simmers within you.

The bitterness rages within you as you recall the pain he inflicted upon not only you but also your mother—the way he hurts her, the way he hurts you , as if you weren’t his child, as if xeranthi wasn’t his wife. 

A of hatred burns hot within your chest.

Why must your paternal lineage be marred by such malevolence? Why must your father be so callous, so devoid of compassion?

Surely, a father’s love should be a beacon of compassion and guidance, not a shroud of cruelty and desolation, right?

The notion that paternal love should be unconditional feels like a distant myth, a fantasy beyond your grasp. 

These thoughts churn within you, and you felt getting more, and more agitated as time passes by.

You rubbed your throbbing temples, just wanting the incessant ache to subside as you forced your mind to go back to the present dilemma—and not focus on aionarch’s bullshit.

Loathing aionarch would avail you nothing after all, and focus was imperative—as you needed to make a plan, a plan to go back to nebula and find ataraxia.

You were sure that if you even managed to go back to Nebula, Aionarch would kill you, yet, you didn’t care. Ataraxia was more important.

 Focus was key—you needed to devise a plan to return to nebula, to find your beloved Ataraxia.

Ataraxia is in danger, or maybe even dead...

The thought sent a twisting ache through your guts, knotting your insides as your throat constricted painfully. Images of her harmed or worse flooded your mind unbidden, each more gruesome than the last. You cursed your own vulnerability, your lack of power in this scenario. All you could do was hope, hope with every fiber of your being, that Fate had seen fit to spare her.

Have trust in her, she’s strong and intelligent. you told yourself again.

You raked  your trembling fingers through your hair as you sighed deeply, mouth twitching down into a frown as your fingers curled slightly as you suddenly remembered another obligation that was suddenly smashed down on you.

You’re a single mother now.

How the hell could you face Ataraxia? How are you supposed to tell her that you’re now a single mother and you have no explanation to offer? Doubtless, ataraxia would assume the worst—that in a moment of weakness or worse yet deceit, you had laid with another.

You didn’t want that, because infidelity isn’t your forte. 

It sucks, really, because you don’t even know the father of your self proclaimed son.

A shaking hand rose unsteadily to the nape of your neck, kneading the taut muscles that was locked, yet it provided no respite from the conflicted feelings that was raging within you.

You were so lost in your thoughts, and time itself ceased to have meaning. How long you’d lingered on the frigid ground again?

You just sat there, staring at the moon.

How had it come to this, you wondered. Why were you suddenly tasked with motherhood against your consent? Choso seemed resolute in claiming your connection, in claiming that he was your son.

And somehow, you believed it. Because his nature remained unclear, he wasn’t a human, and neither were you—so there’s a possibility that he was indeed your son.

Meanwhile, Your self-proclaimed son—Choso was beside you as you contemplated on your life choices.

Choso sat silently, idly dragging a stray twig through the sandy earth. His boredom was palpable, though his gaze occasionally flickered in your direction, scrutinizing for any sign of you retaliating or running away—After all, he can’t have you running from your obligation as his mother now, can you?

There was a palpable tension in the air as the two of you perched upon the rugged rock.

The silence was suffocatingly deafening—for it wasn’t the serene quietude, but rather an uneasy stillness that seemed to seep into the very crevices of the place.

Choso’s gaze was fixed on the earth beneath him, the tip of a stick tracing aimless patterns in the dirt, etching out random letters that held no meaning. 

Choso couldn’t fathom why you appeared so distraught—Why you looked so upset and agitated and a pang of guilt tugged at his heartstrings. Was it his presence that caused your distraught, leading you to sulk?

A fleeting frown crossed Choso’s lips. Is it because of him that you’re upset or something? He just wants you to let you know that you have a son, and not have you getting all depressed right here and then.

What had transpired to render you so distant, as though he were a stranger? Why do you gaze at him with a disorientated gaze—as though you don’t know him?

“Hey...” Your muted voice floated on the breeze, taking Choso’s attention as his ebony tresses swayed in the wind. Turning his head in uour direction,  his gaze fell upon your crestfallen mien—your eyes downcast and avoiding his probing stare

“Yes?” he asked, watching as you finally looked at him, noting the pensive furrow of your brow and the piercing gaze that you were giving him.

 “...you said that you’re my child, right?” Doubt laced your query as a thought took root—if it was true—that he was your son, then why did he stand before you fully grown? You were untouched, a maiden still, and your reason rebelled against what your eyes insisted was fact.

Maybe ataraxia got you pregnant unintentionally? No, no, that’s not possible, two women could not create new life no matter how fervent the affection is, and you haven’t done the deed yet.

Such things were fanciful impossibilities. 

“Yes,”  Choso said simply, though his reply did little to allay your turmoil—It was vague after all.

You frowned pensively as you took in Choso’s visage. Lines of strain etched themselves across his brow; a tightness pulled at the corners of his mouth. Shadows dusked beneath his downcast eyes. Had your words carried too much censure? 

Is it your fault? Were you so harsh? Is it because that you didn’t accept him as your son? Is it because you just won’t drop the subject?

Did he felt neglected by his mother or something?

You knew not how to be a mother, so how are you supposed to fulfill that role and not make him feel neglected? You were stressed too... Because if he really is your son, then why wasn’t he a baby at all, why is he a grown ass man?

The position strained you both, truly. Your chest constricted at the sight of choso’s solemn expression. Softly, you massaged your aching temples. Through dark lashes, you peered at Choso, taking in the stiff set of broad shoulders, fingers clenched white-knuckled in his lap. 

While you watched him with a pitiful gaze, Choso’s gaze remained downcast, tracing the purposeful march of dark ants amidst the dirt.

Choso was just wondering what would happen if he was born as an ant while you were busy there in your internal turmoil.

“Hey...”

A tentative breath escaped your lips as you mustered the courage to speak once more, the words delicately balanced on the tip of your tongue. “I’m sorry,”

you uttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you averted your gaze, your hand trembling slightly as it came to rest upon your lap. 

“I was just... overwhelmed by everything that’s happened,” you confessed, your fingers twisting anxiously in your lap.

“That’s why I’ve been so... agitated.. there’s just so many things that happened to me.. and I guess.. i kinda let my anger out on you...” 

The memory of Toji’s pungent aroma suddenly assaulted your senses, causing your nose to scrunch in a grimace as you fought to push the unpleasant recollection aside. 

Out of anything, why did you have to remember that little shit?

You sighed.

“I’m so sorry for being so harsh..”

You paused, your gaze searching his face, hoping to gauge his reaction, to discern whether your apology had been accepted or if the rift between your non-existent bond remained unhealed.

“I’m really sorry,” you said, the words laced with a heavy sigh as your fingers curled into your palms, the knuckles turning white with the tension. Choso arched a single,  eyebrow, his expression a mix of confusion and intrigue.

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked, his deep voice tinged with puzzlement. Were you feeling remorseful for some reason he couldn’t discern?

You bit your lower lip, the soft flesh catching between your teeth as you contemplated your response.

“Because of my harshness,” you murmured, your gaze dropping to the floor.

“I may have... unintentionally, of course... offended you.”

The words felt thick and heavy on your tongue, as if your very breath struggled to form them. Choso hummed, a low, contemplative sound that reverberated in his chest.

He couldn’t help but note the shift in your demeanor, the way your once-brash and snappish attitude had given way to a more gentle, solemn air. Had you finally come to terms with the fact that he had bested you in your previous arguments? Even better, did you finally accepted that he was your son? Fantastic, indeed.

Scooting closer to you, Choso reached out, his long fingers gently brushing against the back of your hand.

“You didn’t offend me,” he assured, his voice soft and soothing.

“There’s no need to apologize.”

You looked up, your eyes meeting his.

“I... I suppose that it’s okay then... But still, i’m sorry...” you said, your words hesitant and uncertain.

But then, just as quickly as the moment of peace had come, it was gone, and you were back to your old self, your brow furrowing as you fixed Choso with a pointed stare.

“But you do realize that you can’t be my son, don't you?” you asked.

Choso’s eye twitched, and he resisted the urge to let out a frustrated sigh. There you go again, trying to stir up another argument. It seemed that this was a topic you two would never see eye to eye on.

Your fingers gently intertwined with his calloused hand, and you couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast in texture, not only that.. his hands seemed to have the same size of yours, yet it still fit snugly.

An involuntary frown tugged at the corners of your lips as you contemplated whether your stature had somehow diminished, for you were certain your palm would have dwarfed his own. After all, you were taller than him and his head were barely reaching your shoulder.

“I know I’ve already told you this countless times before, but...” You paused, your voice soft and measured as you prepared to broach the sensitive topic once more.

“My lover is a woman.” You paused, studying his features for any flicker of understanding

Pressing your lips into a tight, resolute line, you continued,

“And two women, as you’re aware, cannot conceive a child together.”Your gaze drifted downward, fingers tracing the weathered contours of his palm in a delicate, almost reverent caress.

“And... Ugh, how many times do i have to say this...? This is embarrassing...” you grumbled.

“I’m the embodiment of chastity.”

You mumbled, lifting your eyes to meet his, a silent plea resonated within your gaze.

“And besides, we should simply just drop this and accept the fact that you’re not my son. Ataraxia might grow upset and assume I’ve been unfaithful and that i’m cheating on her.” Your words were laced with a soft desperation.

“And i don’t want that...”

“Please?” 

Choso scoffed, his brow furrowing as he pressed his palm against his temple, the other hand still enveloped in your grasp.

”Just... accept it,” he murmured, his voice tinged with exasperation.

“You still have my brother nestled within your womb.”

The very mention of that fact caused a knot of dread to coil in the pit of your stomach, His brother remained nestled safely within your womb. How could you forget the life growing within? How could you have forgotten, even for a moment, the life that now thrummed within you—the life that had been so unexpectedly, inexplicably conceived?

...

Now ataraxia had more reason to believe that you cheated because you were technically pregnant!

You released your hold on his hand, fingers trembling slightly as you raked them through your hair, the strands catching and snagging against your skin, and nails scraping across your scalp in agitation. 

“How did this even happen?” you breathed, the words barely audible as you watched Choso press his palm reverently against your tummy, fingers splayed as if listening.

“Can you not hear it?” he murmured, his expression calm and collectedness.

“Hear what?”

“The heartbeat of Noranso.” You felt your eyes widen in shock, jaw dropping open as you stared at him, utterly flabbergasted. Flummoxed, you gaped at him as you spoke.

“Tangina Choso... Don’t tell me that..” The words tumbled from your lips, colored with disbelief.

You felt a bubbling surge of annoyance boil within your core, because if you were to give birth to that random child that randomly popped in your tummy then you would’ve named it ‘destroyer of the land and mountains’

You grimaced, founding the name that choso had given his brother kinda weird, and you were acting as if the name that you would give it wasn’t any weirder.

But To be honest? if choso didn’t have a name, then you would’ve had named him “armpit munchies” or “squishy toe nails.”

“... you named it?”

Choso merely shrugged, stepping back from you with a nonchalant air.

“No, that’s his name,” he replied vaguely, leaving you to gape at his retreating form, a thousand questions swirling in your mind.

His explanation provided little clarity to your muddled psyche. Brow furrowed, glancing between him and your stomach curiously. Finally, words tumbled forth quietly

“It has a name.” You repeated, baffled.

“I.. i see..”

“Do you all have your names chosen even before the...” you paused, brow furrowing as you struggled to find the right words,

“the sperm race?”

Choso merely shook his head, seeming equally perplexed.

“I don’t recall joining a race.” choso murmured.

“What’s a sperm?”

Waves of discomfort washed over you as you stared at Choso with a perplexed gaze, your fingers instinctively massaging the tense muscles at the base of your neck. How could this man before you, with all the trappings of adulthood, be utterly ignorant of the most fundamental aspects of human biology? You found yourself bewildered, your brow furrowing as you struggled to comprehend the sheer depth of his naivety. 

“You don’t know what a sperm is?” The words tumbled from your lips, laced with a mixture of incredulity and pity. Your eyes searched Choso's face, wondering if perhaps he was some sort of savant, what if he’s actually a baby trapped in a man’s body? 

“Er, well... it’s a small creature,” you began, the words catching in your throat as you grappled with the awkwardness of the situation.

“And, you know, it’s what men... release... on the female. And then, it leads to a baby or something.” You trailed off.

“Like during reproduction,” You added.

“You have those too” The words tumbled forth, a futile attempt to bridge the chasm of understanding that separated you. Choso’s expression remained flat.

“What do you mean?” His voice, devoid of any hint of emotion, only served to heighten your sense of unease.

“You have those too. Sperm. You have those.” You shook your head, the words tinged with a resigned exasperation.

“I don’t.” Choso asserted, shaking his head in a way that made your eye twitch involuntarily.

“But you do,” you replied, unable to contain your exasperation as you facepalmed.

“Beneath those clothes, you have a dick. It’s the thing between your legs, the flesh thing. And then you have balls, they’re connected to the dick and your sperm is inside of your balls.”

Your brusque, vulgar manner of explaining the process confused choso, you cringed internally as you realized how embarrassing and blunt your words is. Leaning forward, you extended a lone digit, pressing the tip firmly against the juncture of his thighs.

“Here.” you said.

Choso’s brow arched in bewilderment, his calloused palm slowly trailing downward to tentatively graze the area you had indicated.

“Here?” he questioned, his tone laced with uncertainty.

You offered a curt nod of affirmation.

“Yes, precisely there.” A long-suffering sigh escaped your lips as you watched his exploration.

“There’s nothing here.”

“Punyeta, choso, Anong kabobohan to?”

you lamented, the palm of your hand connecting sharply with your forehead in a gesture of pure exasperation.

Did this mirror the frustration Aionarch experienced while explaining the details of reproduction and the importance of restraint to your dumb ass? Was this the same impatience he felt when you struggled to grasp basic concepts?  Is this how he felt when he was teaching you what sex is and you can’t understand anything?

“I don’t know. But i don’t really know what you’re talking about.” Choso’s brow creased slightly as he tried to decipher your cryptic remarks.

“Are you truly aware that offspring gestate within the female womb, yet remain ignorant of the nature of the seed that initiates such creation?” you inquired with a hint of disbelief.

Choso emitted a dismissive snort. “Tsk.”

“Do i look like i care about that reproductive thing that you’re talking about?” Choso inquired, arching a sculpted brow with dubious sincerity. 

“Your words are too flowery ma, i can’t understand it.”

Choso responded, the honorific “ma” slipping unbidden from his tongue unconsciously. In all honesty, he could not muster the slightest interest in your diatribe and the meanings therein—Your speech simply dwarfed his capacity for comprehension.

“M-ma?” You sputtered in disbelief, your viscera twisted within your torso’s confines. Why the hell does he keep perceiving you as the mother who birthed him? You had already told him so many times before, Had his cognizance reshaped itself to see you thus? Jaw clenched taut, gut wrenched with turmoil, you met his steady gaze.

“What?” he asked, purple eyes narrowed to slits as irritation claimed dominion of mien and manner.

“Are you still insisting that i have that “dick” you were talking of?”

“i don’t have those.” he reiterated adamantly.

You exhaled deeply, pressing your fingertips to your temples as sheer vexation overtook you. It seemed this Choso was intent on persisting in his fanciful notion of you as his mothe, huh?

Though you strove for patience, his constant invocations of that diminutive designation only served to stoke the flames of irritation within you. 

You know that this might just fuel his delusion but you still spoke.

“If you’re really my son then you’ll have those.”

you remarked, exasperation sharpening your tongue as you pointed on his torso. Directing his gaze downwards, you noted the minute tensing of his brows as thoughtful consideration replaced that look of misguided familial bonding. Silently, he pondered your implication, tracing where your suggestive gesture indicated—his midsection bereft of the corporeal signs one might expect finding to see a true blood relation. 

“Why do you keep pointing at my midriff?, there’s nothing here.”

“I know that i’m right. You should just look for yourself, see if you’re right.” he mumbled incomprehensibly. 

“Okay.” You said flatly.

Your fingers grasped the fabric of his vest, the coarse material rough against your skin as you tugged him closer. With a sharp tug, you lifted the garment, revealing the taut, chiseled planes of his abdomen. His breath hitched suddenly, not expecting that.

“So?” He breathes out.

“It’s under here.” you murmured, your voice low and lilting as your hand drifted downward, tracing the line of the black, silk-like sash cinched around his hips. With deft movements, you began to untie the  knot, your fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of his trousers as you tugged it.

“Here?” He asked, and choso blinked as he suddenly felt blood rushing down there.

What the hell is happening? He could feel something stiffening, but he just couldn’t pinpoint what it is...

“You look like you’re living in an another person’s body, you know?”  you murmured, your eyes gravitating upwards to meet his. Choso’s gaze wandered, his mind occupied with a myriad of thoughts, his body tensing uncomfortably in response. The alien sensation of his new body still lingered, a mere twenty days into this unfamiliar vessel. A body bestowed upon him by a mysterious stranger, a doppelganger of yourself in every aspect—from the matching lips to the identical eyes, skin tone, and hair.

The resemblance between you two was uncanny, eerie in its precision.

But the personalities and the voice is different though.

Unease shadowed his  features, amethyst  eyes brooding, thoughts no doubt wandering to that fateful encounter only days past when first he’d been gifted with animated flesh.

Your voice broke him out of his reverie.

“I am not well-versed in the anatomy of males,  But i guess I’ll just indulge you in from what I've read in my books,” you stated with a trace of bitterness, recalling the arduous task of having to study that 50 books with long ass pages for no reason at all.

 “Maybe we should start with your upper physique?” you suggested with innocent curiosity, your words laced with a hint of uncertainty.

Your delicate hands slowly roamed his firm physique, lingering in certain spots as if mapping every contour with her touch alone. A visible shiver coursed through his body at the first caress upon his bare chest. “So here,” You began, pressing your soft palms fully against his pecs,

“lies your thoracic cavity.”

He gazed down intently at your hands exploring his form, too confused to fully comprehend your anatomical lesson.

“What’s a thoracic cavity?” He questioned, his curiosity piqued.

“It’s your chest. It’s a complex chamber nestled within your chest, safeguarding the vital organs necessary for sustaining life,” you explained, noting how he tilted his head slightly as he delicately removed your fingers from his cloth. With a meticulous gesture, he adjusted the fabric and lifted it up higher granting you an enhanced view of his upper body.

“You mean, the things that are essential for living?” he murmured in wonderment.

“Yeah.” you affirmed with a nod.

“Hmm... Intriguing,” he mused, mentally marking the importance of this knowledge.

 His gaze then wandered towards your own chest.

“Why does your chest look like that? It’s different from mine.” he inquired, leaving you momentarily speechless.

You gawked.

“Putanginang lalake to... Choso, don’t ask questions like that! It’s uncomfortable and weird.” You sighed.

“Look me in the eyes, not my chest,” you instructed, a hint of exasperation lacing your words as he acquiesced with a nod, seemingly unaware of his lapse in etiquette.

You cleared your throat, hoping to get rid of the awkward atmosphere.

“So... Back to what i was saying.”

“There’s organs in here and they’re essential for your living. It's divided into three main parts, right pleural cavity, left pleural cavity and mediastinum. And the five organs in your thoracic cavity are your heart, lungs, esophagus, trachea and thymus.”

“There’s bones in here too, like your ribs and the sternum.”

“This one’s your sternum,” You mumble, tracing the arch of his sternum before dipping lower 

“And this one’s your ribcage.”

Your fingers delicately glided across the solid ridges of his rib cage.

Sliding lower still, the tips of your fingers grazed his taut stomach.

“The abdomen...” you comtinued,

“The abdomen contains many vital organs: the stomach, the small intestine, the large intestine, the liver, the spleen, the gallbladder, the pancreas, the bladder, and many blood vessels.”

“And here, your groin”  Your fingers dipped under his waistband and you were about to take it off until a distorted sound reached your ears, a warped and twisted echo that set your nerves on edge.

“Mommyyy” it crooned, and you froze, choso stiffening beside you as you both snapped your gaze toward the source.

There, emerging from the shadows, a giant, fat, purple worm with an ugly and contorted face. The same creature you had once shapeshifted into.

“Mommy H​​​​​​ug me”

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𝐍𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐀

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The miasmic scent of blood flooded Xeranthi’s senses as she gingerly sat upon her husband’s lap. Aionarch’s hand massaged her lacerated flesh. Stiffening against the forthcoming anguish, she steeled herself to absorb his ministrations without compromise of façade. 

The woman’s ravaged flesh contracted in pain as pale slender fingers traced over her fresh lashes, reopening the barely sealed wounds.

Xeranthi’s flesh constricts as his fingers delved deeply into the crimson gash, parting the freshly torn skin with delicate precision. Her muscles and sinews writhed beneath his probing touch, the contractile tissue recoiling from the painful intrusion. Ichor fluid welled and spilled anew with each probing motion, and it dripped down his fingers like midnight liquid, painting his fingers a grim ichor.

Each brush of contact sent tendrils of white-hot agony lancing through her battered form, her stomach roiling with a fresh wave of nauseating pain—and she wanted to vomit so bad.

Aionarch methodically traced the wound’s edge, his glowing touch bringing tentative relief—That xeranthi very much didn’t appreciated. Her taut fibers slowly drew closed once more beneath his healing caress, though, the residual soreness remained.

The whip that they used kn her was excruciatingly painful, a nefarious device of torture forged from a dragon's scaly tail. Each serrated barb along its rippling length was painful, and each sharp tooth that lined the whip’s gangrenous tongue was carved from the fossilized scales of some bygone beast, and Xeranthi could feel her senses reeling as she remembered the obsidian talons buried deep within her back, rending sinews and splitting her skin. 

She hissed in irritation as his head nestled intimately at her nape. His fingers drifted now across her marred back, cataloging each cruel mark left by the  kiss. Over raised welts and gouges his hands roamed, tracing the ribs laid bare through her broken flesh.

Her form shivered violently at the fresh stimulus to such tender wounds, irritation and anger writting clear upon her trembling limbs. Still he persisted, tending injuries both evident and deeper still, his moist exhalations but another torment upon her skin already flayed. Slowly, gradually, underneath his ministrations the ravages began to fade.

Even in supposed gentleness her sadistic lord inflicted new torments too. Though his touch now soothed rather than seared, memories of past cruelties clung to her like parasites, burrowing their tendrils deep into her psyche.

“you’ve been quiet for quite a while now,”

Aionarch said quietly, though a hint of irritation colored his tone. This wasn’t the reaction he envisioned from Xeranthi after taking her away from that dreadful place. 

Despite his efforts to mend her wounds, an undercurrent of ingratitude lingered like a bitter aftertaste.

Such an ungrateful wife she is, no wonder that their daughter is ungrateful too.

“And what would you have me say?” 

Xeranthi jaw sets like stone as she let out a derisive grunt.

“Want me to thank you for your oh so called graceful mercy? Want me to thank you and act like you’re my savior when you’re the reason why i’m there in the first place?”

Aionarch grasped her chin roughly, his nails digging crescents into her flesh as he forced her gaze to meet his own.

“Ah? It seems the apple falls not far from the tree,” he murmured. “I think I know from whence our daughter’s foolishness stems,”

He breathed, the scent of wine upon his breath.

“So you’ve finally recognized your own reflection?”

Xeranthi’s lips curled into a wry smile, though no mirth touched her eyes. “So you finally admit she inherits her dull wit from you?”

Pausing, Aionarch considered her retort before throwing back his head and laughing, though the sound held no joy.

“Nay, ‘Tis from you, wife.”

 Aionarch hesitated, brow furrowing, then laughed sharply. “No, she gets her foolishness from you.”

“She has your features, your genes,” Xeranthi countered. 

“And she has your intellect, or lack thereof.

Aionarch’s fingers clenched tighter, his nails breaking skin, still Xeranthi would not flinch or cry out, meeting his gaze with defiance.

“You are cute Weiveiun,” He says with a chuckle.

Xeranthi narrowed her eyes as his icy gaze bored into her, pale ichor dripping slowly from vicious half-moon gouges in her skin where his nails still dug. Though her flesh stung in pain, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain.  

Dark lashes fluttered shut to block out his soulless stare, though it did nothing to halt the onslaught of memories assaulting her mind.

“What  did you do to my soryuleitha?”

“I know that you wouldn’t bring her up unless you did something.”

Aionarch hums as he traced a thumb along her jaw, smearing the iridescent blood across her cheek in a gruesome caress.  

“What do you think?” He asks.

“I discovered that our daughter has become enamored with a woman,” the deity sighed languidly, and Xeranthi remained stock-still as her eyes grew wide with horror and dismay. No... surely Aionarch has not uncovered your secret attraction to the fairer sex? Xeranthi swallowed painfully, hoping beyond hope that you remains unscathed, for she knows all too well how cruel Aionarch can be, and how fiercely he despises any bond of intimacy that deviates from his narrow conception of propriety. And it was especially grievous, for it concerned you. 

“You’ve hurt her...” Xeranthi said in icy tones and Aionarch hummed dismissively, feeling some subterranean forces suddenly surging forth from nowhere to pierce through him, but they dissipated impotently as he dispersed them with a negligent flick of his hand. 

“Indeed, I did,” Aionarch replied coldly, without an ounce of remorse, not even caring about xeranthi’s pathetic attempt to hurt him.

 Drawing a shuttered breath, Xeranthi stated grimly, “You should’ve just killed her.” She said coldly.

“And not hurt her.”

“You hurt her so grievously because you are consumed by envy of her lover, isn’t it?” Xeranthi murmured pensively, and for a split-second, Aionarch’s eyes widened in surprise at her perceptiveness before he threw his head back and laughed hollowly.

“Clever girl,” he purred, pressing his lips to Xeranthi’s cheek in a mockery of affection, which caused the goddess to recoil inwardly from his defiling touch.

“Since when did you know, hm?” Aionarch asks, and Xeranthi’s gaze slowly drifted downwards, her eyes avoiding his penetrating stare. How did she know? Through her stealthy observations over many years. Ever since you were a mere babe, it had seemed to Xeranthi that Aionarch was utterly obsessed with you, obsessed with sculpting you into some ideal of perfection, obsessed with isolating you from all others until you belonged only to him. None dare speak to him in such a casual, informal way without meeting a ghastly end, and yet with you he was strangely tender, affectionate even.

And that was not all—Aionarch kept a close, watchful guard over your purity as well, as if you were his private treasure. These things had whispered to Xeranthi’s intuition for longer than she could recall, leaving an uneasy sense of foreboding within her.

“Ever since she was a child,”

“I see the way you look at her.” Xeranthi murmured through clenched teeth, each word sharp enough to draw blood. Her fingernails dug half-moons into her palms as barely contained rage coursed through her veins.

“The way you so readily forgive her transgressions, as if she hung the very stars in the sky.”

Aionarch merely hummed in noncommittal acknowledgement, yet the icy disdain miring his eyes belied the uncaring facade he attempted to project.

“True, I harbor no love for you,” he conceded with a frigid smile that raised hackles along Xeranthi's neck.

“But i do care for you. Do I not provide for your needs? Have I not elevated your status above all others?”

She sneered mirthlessly.

“Spare me your falsehoods and justifications. I am no fool, no matter how you may seek to paint me as such. I know well that you used me—my body, my name—for no other purpose than so you could have a child because apparently, i’m the prettiest goddess blah blah blah, bullshit like that. Like i give a damn if you elevated my status”

“Watch your insolent tongue, woman, lest you regret the consequences.” 

Xeranthi barked a harsh, derisive laugh.

“The truth wounds, does it? That I see clearly what lies beneath your genteel ravings? She looks like you,” she spat venomously,

“and so you mistake your narcissism for love. You like her because she looks like you, she spits your image.”

“Your feelings for [Name] has never been platonic in the first place.”

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𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

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𑁍ࠬܓ━━𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒:

𝟎𝟎𝟏. [Name]’s stomach is starting to digest Choso’s Brother.

𝟎𝟎𝟐. Xeranthi knows about [Name] and Ataraxia.

𝟎𝟎𝟑. [Name] is the goddess of chastity, cause she was forced to live in Chastity by her father.

𝟎𝟎𝟒. Ataraxia heard the conversation between Aionarch and Xeranthi.

𝟎𝟎𝟓. The worm thinks that [Name] is its mommy too because yk? She once transformed into the worm and the worm scent is clinging onto her—so the worm assumed that she was its mommy.

𝟎𝟎𝟔. Choso wanted to ask about Ataraxia but refrained himself from doing so.

𝟎𝟎𝟕. Xeranthi wasn’t bothered by aionarch’s incestuous love cause it’s normal for them—since they’re deities and incest is normal in deities and they see nothing wrong with it.

𝟎𝟎𝟖. The person that gave choso his body was said that they looked like Kamiseijin but it’s not really kamiseijin, neither was it aionarch.

𝟎𝟎𝟗. Aionarch didn’t killed ataraxia for a reason;)

𝟎𝟏𝟎. Aionarch only took Xeranthi away to share some information with Xeranthi cause he kinda expected that Xeranthi would recoil at the thought of [Name] liking a woman but got the opposite reaction instead cause Xeranthi supports her daughter no matter what.

𝟎𝟏𝟏. Choso once considered bashing your head. 

━━━━━

𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐒:

𝟎𝟎𝟏​​​​. “Punyeta, anong kabobohan to choso” means “What the fuck kind of stupidity is this, Choso?”

Weiveiun means 

𝟎𝟎𝟐. Soryuleitha means “My sole happiness”

𝟎𝟎𝟑.​Weiveiun means “My darling”

𝟎𝟎𝟒. “Putang inang lalake to” means this fucking man...

━━━━━

🔪 || 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

━━━━━

╰┈➤ 𝟎%

—𝐒atoru has been thinking about you or whatever, and honestly? He’s getting a bit jealous of you because suguru has been focusing on tryna figure out what the actual fuck you are.

━━━━━

╰┈➤ 𝟏𝟎% 

—𝐒uguru saw ataraxia’s name on the necklace and now he’s assuming that your name is ataraxia<3.

━━━━━

╰┈➤ 𝟎%

—𝐓oji misses his worm already, please come back. He needs money.

━━━━━

╰┈➤ 𝟒% (𝐔𝐩 𝟐%)

—𝐒hoko, just like suguru, assumed that your name is ataraxia and now she’s doing loads of research in tryna find you.

━━━━━

╰┈➤ 𝟐𝟒% (𝐔𝐩 𝟒%)

—𝐂hoso is getting irritated by you. BUT, he’s jealous because a fucking worm just called you mommy! Like why is the worm stealing his mother? Choso was annoyed at that + he’s also annoyed at the fact that you kept on telling him about human reproduction or something like that, he’s getting uncomfortable with the topic + what are you even saying about his body or something? Choso has never really looked at his body or something like that, nor did he paid any mind in the details.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄:

okokok, so i’m not writing choso as an “innocent uwu” bullshit like that. Choso is not innocent in here and he’s just really curious about how the human body works, but that doesn’t mean that he’s innocent or something. He just trusts Kamiseijin and is quite comfortable with her, that’s why. + He’s literally thinking of killing [Name].

━━━━━

Shit’s bouta go down at chapter six:) just don’t mind my obsession with anatomy lmfao. This chapter is cringe af (everything is in my pov) dawg, i sprained my ankle and now i’m itching to hurt my mc again... But i just decided to give her this moment of peace because i’m gonna take it all away soon💓.... Mwhehe i was supposed to make her meet Toru and Sugu in her human form but i decided to just make them meet her at chap 7 cause (spoilers: there’s gonna be a fight in chapter 6)

━━━━━

LOL THIS BULLSHIT BECAME A SCIENCE LESSON INSTEAD OF A JJK FUCKIN' FANFIC LMAOOO SJHSHZJAJAK... And yeah... When i said that there’s gonna be incest in here... I meant that. BUT DON’T THINK THAT I CONDONE/NORMALIZE THAT BEHAVIOR IRL OKAY? incest isn’t okay and it’s illegal<3

━━━━━

[dailyadventureprompts]

Dungeon: To Split the Mountain Wide

Renowned for it's beauty and magical reactivity, Thaliasite is a valuable mineral said to spring up where the tears of a sky goddess soak into the earth. When deposits are found, they're quickly mined to exhaustion.

Taking a gamble on of one of these near abandoned claims, a somewhat reckless alchemist has attempted to promote the growth of new crystal through an experimental process involving the channelling of elemental energies and a bit of bastardized geomancy which miraculously resulted in the growth of new crystals and the reopening of the mine.

Some weeks later however and it appears the process has worked too well as the slow initial recovery has given way to explosive new growth; splitting the mountain wide open and trapping several crews of workers in the depths of the mine. The party has been called in after rescue attempts were halted by rogue elementals, as well as attacks by grell from the nearby wastes drawn in by the arcane energies.

Adventure Hooks:

Need a quick starter for a badlands campaign? Have the party be made up of miners/locals from the nearby settlement who's livelihood depends on the reopened mine. No better team building exercise then rescuing innocents from a magically and structurally unstable cave system liable to cave in/explode at any moment.

This literal explosion of valuable material is going to have far reaching consequences, turning the little mining village into a boomtown over the next few months. This will bring all kinds of fortuneseekers, outlaws, and wandering mages out of the woodwork, to say nothing of the more otherworldly entities that will blow in on the wind.

While you could chalk the disaster up to the usual unreliability of alchemical experimentation, a party that digs around a little deeper and keeps a wary eye out may discover a conspiracy by the mineral combine that once owned the depleted mine. The ability to produce Thaliasite could be an economic gamechanger, and the combine is not above engineering a little accident if it means not only reclaiming their former property but also buying out the disgraced alchemist's formulas. If the party finds them out, the combine might just be willing to cut them in for a percentage, maybe make them overseers in their newly revitalized enterprise.

One of the miners the party ends up rescuing is a woman half conscious after getting caught in the shrapnel from the Thaliasite's explosive growth. After some weeks of recovery she rises from her sickbed and begins after asking the party. Apparently having shards of divinely attuned crystal stuck in her greymatter has gotten her in touch with the goddess, who uses her impromptu oracle to tell the party of a trial awaiting them in the near future.

Art 1

Art 2

[professorfcknmoriarty]

If this season doesn't turn out to be a great trans allegory about denying who you are for the people around you and transitioning into who you're supposed to be and being the real you (written specifically for Brennan's dear friend Ally Beardsley who transitioned since starting the show, but also for all his friends), I'll pull a Lydia Barkrock and cook 37 chicken parmesans.

There are SO many threads to pull, but to name a few:

In episode 1, Cassandra, who prior to JY used they/them instead of she/her pronouns and didn't look like a copy of Kristin, offered to theme herself around shakes and smoothies to make herself more likeable and relatable to Kristin, and episode 4 she says, "You saved me from being the Nightmare King."

In episode 5, Brennan offered, "Do you wanna use doubt as your weapon here, or do you want to use rage as your weapon here? Do you want to approach the goddess with her own gift, or is there something in here that you wanna go with?"

Later, Brennan says, "There's a moment where that red glows in her, and she says, "Why don't you let me get us out of here?" and turns to look at all of these rage shatter-star things. You see that she looks at them with recognition, and she goes, "How are they back here? I thought you were dead"."

And later something or someone said "She is at my side once more," and Brennan says "Kristen, your goddess is gone and a being whose name you do not know speaks to you with rage and malice from a realm beyond."

In episode 10, Siobhan/Adaine asked: "Was this god that seems to be missing a celestial god or a giant god?" And Brennan said, "On a 27, I will honor the specificity of that question. You think this god's domain changed over time."

From Lydia, we heard, "This god was a god of the Nine Hells, a god of, you know, fire and rage and torment, yadda yadda, all that stuff."

And later, Brennan says, "You start recording the moon, recording that. I think you find effectively what we would call MNA, magical nucleic acid. You're finding a string of magical sequencing. I'm gonna say from this point on, anytime you do any kind of Detect Magic or Detect Evil and Good, you will be able to see whether something is directly of Bakur. But you also find a deific, almost mitochondrial DNA of, oh, here's Bakur, but here's actually where he gets his power from -" and, "- So you're also able to be like, if you were to investigate anything else, you now have this magical sequence being like, is this of the deity that produced Bakur?"

To which Siobhan/Adaine says, "So Cassandra was married to a female or nonbinary or transmasc deity. Mitochondrial," And Brennan agrees that's what he could mean.

In episode 11, Brennan says, "Your worry as these things came out of your hand, the shards enclosed themselves. There was fear, right? Which is something that Cassandra, who in some other version of herself was the Nightmare King, is very familiar with," and while they're falling into the briefcase he says, "you're falling faster. As he (Baron) goes, he says, "The Nightmare King, very angry, once again in the arms of his loving partner. I think you should be very afraid Kristen Applebees, but not of sweet little old Baron from the Baronies. You have plenty of fish in your fish pot to fry with your fish oil." And disappears into the pages again. Very mad. So Cassandra's mad and with... They've both been corrupted again."

(Note that the Nightmare King used he/him pronouns, Cassandra used they/them at the end of SY, she/they before the mall. Baron used they/them pronouns in SY and he/they in JY.)

In episode 12, Riz said "I wasn't keeping him (Baron) a secret. I said I was dating Baron from the Baronies, but I made that up. But then, he became real." And Baron said "I am sorry that my romance partner, Riz Gukgak, has lied so much about my nature," And "(my stark father) wants to make your name something that cannot hurt you anymore."

And Riz said "-(this was) A clear lie that maybe other people could've picked up on, but didn't. And then, you know, Baron was manifested."

And later Baron said, "My stark father does not wish to ever be referred to by his name," and "Stark father, I call him, but there are other titles by which he is referred." And, "You will die here and then there will be none that remember her."

So Riz's refusal to think about or acknowledge his feelings or identity (aro/ace) and thus making up a partner that "doesn't go here" to keep his friends from suspecting or shunning him for his otherness manifested in magic from the Nightmare King/Stark Father/Cassandra. Baron isn't just a manifestation of his lies but a manifestation of his inability to accept his own identity and trying to be someone he isn't.

Random weird threads that seem somehow connected: Kristin's notoriously religious and bigoted parents have they/them pronouns in their title card AS DO Digby and Wilma Thistlespring but not every pair that often shares title cards (see the Barkrocks who have their pronouns listed separately).

There's so much focus so far on names, names that hurt you (what kinds of names hurt trans people? Dead names, usually), identity, changing, duality of self, being honest with and about yourself and I just-

There's also been a lot going on about how little correction that's been for misgendering or just completely changing the pronouns of previously nonbinary NPCs in this season. Given the fact that there have been so many details like this peppered throughout the season so far, I highly suspect that the lack of correction is to not alert the Players too early as to the overarching plotline.

(Also non-zero chance Bucky Applebees turns out to be trans and/or Kristin transitions by the end of the Bad Kids story arch)

[twistedbloodstain]

marquis de gramont x assistant!reader: i breathe flames each time i talk | love’s not supposed to be easy.

plot: the one where he has you but at what cost?

warnings: kidnapping, coercion, dubious consent, guys this has went for a dark turn :(, none of them gets any peace

masterlist

shards of glass fly through the wall behind him, vincent bites his tongue from cursing, a slightly frustrated frown slowly making its way to his face. he stops himself from visibly sighing or showing any sign of his genuine worry over another expensive irreplaceable vase broken on the floor.

instead, he worries about the best possible way to diffuse the situation in front of him.

which is you.

you, who he is irrevocably in love with. the person he wants most more than anything in this world, you’re the sweet heaven placed on this earth that was meant to be cherished by him, you who gave him the captivating feeling of affection.

you taught him to know what it was like to find a piece of himself he’s yearned for in years, a part that he denied to have existed in fear of being weak and vulnerable oh but no, you make him feel the other way around. when he feels your presence and grace, he feels like salvation and strength has entered the room itself.

you make him feel safe, in a way. he feels at peace when he’s with you. all his heedless ambition stood no chance against having you in his life the moment you almost died for him in that fateful night. he felt the need to immediately shelter you from the cruel world, he wouldn’t offer the universe a chance to take you away from him ever again. vincent swore he would cherish you, make every second of your life a sweet memory for the rest of your lives together. he took you to keep you safe and happy, he swears even if you don’t realize that you need it.

which is why what faces him, hurts him as much as it hurts you.

you’re standing at least a few meters away from him next to the table filled with saccharine fruits and decorated cakes, your form shaking from fear. earlier you had just grabbed the nearest vase and threw it at him the second he stepped into the room to join you for a quick snack. tears were already slipping down your cheeks as small sobs escaped your lips, the soft satin gray dress wrapped around your body made you look like a goddess on earth. it was the first thing that entered his mind before he noticed the projectile being flung to his face, thankfully he managed to dodge it in time and the vase smashed into the wall behind him.

 he doesn’t know why this is happening.

or maybe he does. vincent is not a blind man to the truth, he does not relish in the bliss ignorance offers. he thinks anyone who enjoys that form of bliss is a coward who refuses to deal with reality. after all, if you’re dealing with a rather difficult predicament you wish to resolve, you need to face the hard truths and all plausible cards at hand. ignorance cannot play a part into it.

but when he looks at you, he realizes why people place themselves into that situation. he asks the same questions and pretends he doesn't know why you’ve thrown vases at him, why your tears only seem to drip when he’s in the room for the past two weeks. all truths he spurns to know.

“my love? what’s wrong?” he begins, vincent takes a step forward and reaches his hand out to you, a shard cracks as it was crushed under the weight of his foot, you eye him warily and instantly flinch to step back.

“no. stay away from me.” you scream. “don’t come any closer.”

“you know i can’t even if i wanted to.” he whispers looking into your eyes, he doesn’t listen to your words and takes a step closer. it makes things worse as another sob leaves your body.

“don’t bullshit me! in all my years i’ve worked with you, i know if you wanted to, you would.” you reply, “you just won’t try hard enough!”

“why do you find it so hard to accept?” he questions, frustration getting the better of him. he walks straight to you, startled by his sudden movements, you stammer on your feet but he gets to you quick, he grips your arms and holds you close.

 “mon amour, every man on this earth could attempt to pry you away from me but i would burn this world to the ground if it meant i could return to you. i want you, i love you.” he confesses.

probably for the 20th time of the week.

“stop. stop it.” you struggle in his grip as more tears collect on your face.

“why? you have no reason to refuse me-“

“you kidnapped me! you took me from my home and locked me into your estate, i can’t even move a single finger without the guards or the maids reporting everything i do!” you struggled.

“all to keep you safe, there are people out there who want you dead. i am protecting you, mon amour.” he reasons.

“i don’t want it, i want to go home.” you beg. this is what the both of you go through everyday, sometimes it occurs during meal times like right now, but more often than not it happens the moment he comes forward to greet you a “good morning” in bed or before the both of you get ready to sleep at night.

he prefers to deal with you like this when you’re both in the confinements of his bedroom, it’s much easier to lull you with his sweet words and hold you because for a minute or two you don’t twist against and grip but rather lean into it. you don’t spit out those incomprehensible thoughts of leaving him or begging for him to let you go.

he would rather die than lose you.

“please…vincent just let me go. i want to go home, you have to let me go.” you plead, you’re now holding his wrists close up to your body. in a different scenario, he would’ve been fucking delighted to have this, to have you touch him with such softness but your words do the opposite effect as the idea of being without you sink into his sick head.

vincent takes control of his hands and brings your palms up to his lips, placing a soft kiss. he watches your reaction slowly, tears weren’t as present as it was before on your face, he likes it when you look calm it reminds him of the days the both of you spent together as boss and employee. serenity was always a good look on you.

“you are home, you’re right where you need to be…with me.” he states, “what i have to give you, my love…it shouldn’t trap you. it’s meant to make you feel the same way you make me feel but i can’t love you if you won’t help yourself.”

“if you would just let me love you, you’ll see.” 

your face contorts back to your former anguish. teardrops begin falling down again but you don’t fight to get away from him, his arms snake behind your waist as he guides you into an embrace with him. 

no matter how big of a fit you throw or how expensive of a vase you fling at him, this is how it always ends. for the two weeks you’ve spent here, hopefully you’ve realized that there is no force in this world strong enough to separate you from him. not even your tears and not even you.

you fold the velvety blanket in a slow but precise movement, your gaze locked on the person asleep on the other side of the room, suddenly hearing a loud roar of thunder crack outside your vision redirects to the large window. you hold your breath in fear of the storm abruptly waking him, thankfully it doesn’t happen and you stop mid-chore to trudge your way to the window so you could shut the curtains.

“everything is okay.” you shakily whisper to yourself.

your voice betrays you with that statement, you keep telling yourself that everything is alright, that you should be grateful that he isn’t cruel to you, that even in your rebellious and distasteful behavior for the past year he still showers you in finery and love.

it’s been awhile since you’ve thrown a fit at him. 

you took some of his words into your behavior ever since your last squabble, you tell yourself that what he has to offer is good. that maybe you’re in the wrong in this one, so for the past months no matter how much you want to resist, you don’t swat his hand away when he touches you, you don’t shove him away when he holds you and you keep your head in place when he kisses you to please him.

and god it certainly did. he already seemed to glimmer brighter when he took you back to his estate but when you stopped shoving him away, his presence was impalpable, he looked like was a king that finally had his queen.

but you? oh dear. 

all your reevaluation for your mindset did seem to work, there were moments when you enjoyed being with him. the late night dinners and touches that sometimes make your heartbeat a little too fast for your liking, his sweet words that move you which makes you think that it was too good to be true sometimes it makes you forget that he’s keeping you here against your own will.

oh.

it’s moments like these that make you stay still and cling to your fucking sanity, you want to get out of here. you do, but how? you are isolated in his home, no one in the staff treats you the same anymore they don’t listen to you unless you have a simple request. you have no one but the marquis, who is the last person that probably wants to hear about your desire to get out of here. your days are filled with him and only him, from the moment you wake up in bed he’s beside you, either in slumber or kissing you for the morning. you see him for meals three times a day until the sun sinks into the horizon where he makes love to you in the shadow of moonlight. not to mention the gallery viewing, watching operas and other superficial shit he likes.

you have no ally in here.

your form shakes and you cling to the table beside you, you want to leave so bad but every time you come up with an idea to leave it seems impossible. your former escape route has been rendered useless, you tried that the moment the marquis left you alone for the first time and it was barred shut with a guard stationed nearby. soon the marquis found out, he was livid and kept you locked in your room for a few days.

any chance of escape is hopeless even if you have no reason to want to stay here.

the storm brewing outside roars another loud burst of thunder, much louder than the previous one, the rain outside begins to shower even stronger. a cry erupts from the other side of the room and you sigh. you stare at the crib at the corner, a lamplight illuminating the dim room, you take a deep breath to compose yourself and make your way towards him.

your son.

with him.

it still makes you sick thinking about it.

you lift him into your arms and he immediately snuggles into your neck, his chubby arms slightly flailing around to feel your warmth. you shush him to sleep, whispering sweet nothings to soothe him. thankfully, his cries instantly die down and mumbles gibberish, slowly falling back to slumber. you found out you were pregnant around the time, you threw the vase at him. you felt frustrated and trapped, because how could this happen to you? 

you hold him tight, and softly swaddle him around to calm him even more. you know the saying “if there’s a will, there’s a way.”, well you had so much of that if it weren’t for the child you brought out into this world you would’ve been insistent on getting out of here. you love your son, you do. but you find it so hard to go on when the weight of a child is pulling you down from what you want.

this is the only reason why you were willing to try being with him. as if things weren’t hopeless enough for you, maybe things shouldn’t be so bad for your child. after all, vincent was quite cheerful when he found out.

you press a soft kiss to his head, whispering a gentle affirmation before tucking him back into his crib.

pushing the door to enter the inside, you reluctantly walk in. you’ve done this several times before, yet when you do it, it still doesn’t feel natural. the room was dim, little illuminessence was present and the light from your bed lamp was the only thing keep things seen. 

you walk towards the bedpost and something inside you makes you stop, a figure moves beneath the satin sheets and you hold your breath. he opens his eyes and sees you, confusion staining his expression. he immediately sits up and urges you forward.

“cherie? is something wrong?” vincent murmurs, his voice still hoarse from sleep. you don’t say anything but instead you abandon the bedpost and sit on the foot of the bed. you give him an empty stare and he stays quiet awaiting your reply.

“the storm woke him up.” you reply.

“oh? i’ll call for the nanny.” 

“don’t. i already put him back to sleep.” you mutter.

“then what seems to be the problem?” he raises his eyebrows.

you eye him like he grew a second head, matter of fact he might as well have with what he did to you.

“how-“ you start but a cry leaves your throat. tears begin to gather on your eyes, vincent alarmed with your state leans forward, “how could you do this to me?”

“what do you mean, my love?” he asks puzzled.

“what do i mean? i meant how could you do this to me!” your voice gets louder but not loud enough to be yelling, the rain outside pours even harder. 

“a year ago, i was just your assistant dealing with your meetings and setting your finery. you wouldn’t have even spared me a single glance unless you wanted a chef from monaco to cook you dinner considering i wasn’t significant enough to be known by you. i have to admit working for you was frightening but it was okay. i was alright with that.” you sob.

“this again.” he sighs.

“now, you locked me up here. a few months ago i was pregnant with your kid. mind you, even if you won’t say it i know you never wanted children. do you know how stupid this looks? how irrational and insensible this all seems? i’ve always known you to be cruel but this…this is torture. you’re playing house with my life like it’s some sick game” you reason not giving him a chance to speak.

“going through all these lengths because something in your sick head is telling you that you’re in love with me, acting like you wouldn’t discard me the moment you find me unworthy of your attention. ” you finish. he stays quiet from your little rant, dare you say a bit shocked. truth be told, it had been a while since you did this.

“what do you want me to do? tell me what to do, so i can make it better.” he demands, “i want you to be happy. i dislike seeing you miserable like this when you should be having the happiest time of your life. recently, we just had a child-“

“then let me go.” you cut him off, scooting closer to his side of the bed. you reach for his hands and he lets you, even when the expression on his face seems bitter.

“let me go home. i don’t want to be here, i feel trapped. at some point, you know that i don’t want you the same way you claim to want me. i don’t love you, i don’t think i can even if i tried my best. you need to let me leave, vincent.” you beg with all your heart.

vincent stays silent and wipes the tears on your face. he leans forward in resignation and delicately grazes his hand on your jaw making you look into him.

“my love. i don’t care how long it takes to make you realize that my feelings are genuine, that my acts aren’t based on flights of fancy, i’d spend the rest of my life proving it to you with a few more children around. you need to understand that i’m never letting you go, because i would simply die.” he whispers.

“you are mine. i am yours. not even you can deny that,  you belong to me and i, you. you are my love, i am too far gone to lose you. how many people are lucky enough to say that?”

he kisses you after that, his lips softly envelop yours and it shocks you but the feeling and taste are so familiar to you know. you don’t get the chance to say anything in return as you feel his hand dancing around your nightgown, you could feel it slowly slipping down. vincent’s hand dances around your skin, going through your curves that he’s felt before.

“and this is alright with you?” you mumble as he guides you to your back, pressing kisses on your neck.

“what is?” he pauses slightly looking up at you before continuing to leave a mark on your neck.

“that i’ll never want you…ever.” you trace your palm up to his jaw, caressing it while giving the poisonous blow.

this makes him halt all his movements and looks into you as if you’re serious. you might be.

“then i’ll have to simply have to live with it. love is never supposed to be easy.” he chuckles before kissing you again.

author’s note: this was short but enjoyed it lots bc there’s drama hehe. assistant!reader getting her licks before he goes down on her was a last minute thing…anyways if you were expecting peace and hugs from this fic hell to the nah i want angst. marquis is relentless afff. thanks for reading and pls like and reblog :)) also send some of ur requests!!

[breadmecoshy]

How many HK gijinkas do you have? Have you designed THK and Ghost yet??

Also hey your art looks amazing and you have some super creative and gorgeous designs, it's incredible, how do you even do it???? Your style makes them look even better too holy shit

Thanks for the question and the praise!

I have the gijinkas of the Dreamers and the Hornet (not very satisfactory, I didn't think much about them), Quirrell, Grimm and Saint, Collector and Marissa.... I can't remember any more, so that's probably it

I thought about the Little Ghost's gijinka before, but it wasn't good... So I've thought of Knight, Ghost and Kin (and little child Hornet) specifically for your request! (thanks for that, I need a boost for something high-quality) I hope I was able to convey how threatening this little child is

I had a problem with gijinkas vessels in the sense that I wasn't sure it made sense to make them human, but making them clots of emptiness was just boring. So now, apparently, the Pale King just like in damn Sparta dipped babies into the Void, and if they couldn't cope with it, threw them off a cliff or something

/which makes things worse, because now we are dealing not just with an Abyss of broken shards, but with the genocide of babies

The horns of the vessels in this interpretation are branches, like those of a White Lady, since she is their mother. (The Hornet has no horns, just a cap) We don't know how she gave life to the vessels in the game, but in the case of humans, she gave birth to them directly (she is the goddess of fertility and reproduction, so let's pretend that this is not terrible reproductive pressure---), so they have her features. But the facial features of all the kids are dad's, except for the eyes - the King's are light (and the Hornet's!), but the vessels are dark because of the emptiness. I think an ideal vessel should have completely black eyes, along with whites, since it does not need to move its eyes and look at the world around it. Just black chasms

[gwynrieldreams]

Ok, I never thought I would have to make this post but here we go (this fandom never fails to surprise me with its blatant ignorance).

Why Feysand not elriel is the Hades and Persephone trope

As we know from Greek mythology Persephone was the daughter of Demeter (the goddess of nature, agriculture, and harvest). She is a vegetation goddess, associated with flowers, spring, and innocence. She lived peacefully on Earth under her mother’s watchful eye. Hades was the god of the dead and ruler of the Underworld.

Rhysand is the High Lord of the Night Court. His character is heavily inspired by Hades, who rules the underworld, and the devil a bat winged man who rules hell (the Court of Nightmares).

Although, Feyre isn't associated with nature or flowers the way Elain is, she's Tamlin's bride and lives in the Spring Court.

Zeus, it is said, permitted Hades, who was in love with the beautiful Persephone, to abduct her as her mother Demeter was not likely to allow her daughter to go down to Hades. Persephone was gathering flowers in a field when Hades came to abduct her, bursting through a cleft in the earth.

After Persephone had disappeared, Demeter searched for her all over the earth with Hecate's torches. In most versions, she forbids the earth to produce, or she neglects the earth and, in the depth of her despair, she causes nothing to grow. Helios, the Sun, who sees everything, eventually told Demeter what had happened and at length she discovered where her daughter had been taken. Zeus, pressed by the cries of the hungry people and by the other deities who also heard their anguish, forced Hades to return Persephone.

When Hades was informed of Zeus' command to return Persephone, he complied with the request, but he first tricked her into eating pomegranate seeds. Hermes was sent to retrieve Persephone but, because she had tasted the food of the underworld, she was obliged to spend a third of each year (the winter months) there, and the remaining part of the year with the gods above.

In acotar, during Feyre's first trial, she hurts her arm, which is left unattended by Amarantha and the other faeries. One night, Rhysand manages to get into Feyre's cell and offers her healing in exchange for spending two weeks out of every month in the Night Court. Feyre initially disagrees, and Rhysand grabs the shard of bone that sticks out of her arm and twisting. After this torture and noticing that she will almost certainly die from the infection before Lucien can sneak away to help her, she realizes she has no other choice. She negotiates to lower the terms to only one week per month. Once they both agree, Rhysand grabs her injured arm and painfully heals her. A black tattoo with a cat's eye in the palm of her hand appears on her left arm as a permanent reminder of the deal she struck.

The parallel between Feysand and Hades and Persephone, is basically their bargain. Feyre is obliged to spend three weeks in Spring and one week in the Night Court (the underworld).

Moreover, on the day of her wedding, Feyre decides to stop the wedding. Suddenly Rhysand appears to take Feyre away to the Night Court, calling in the bargain she made with him Under the Mountain.

The way Rhysand appears to take her parallels the way Persephone was abducted. Persephone was in a flower field-> Feyre was in the Spring Court, ready to marry the High Lord of the Spring Court and become Lady of the Spring. Hades came to abduct her, bursting through a cleft in the earth-> Rhysand came to take her, "thunder cracked... as if two boulders had been hurled against each other."

Persephone later married Hades and became the queen of the underworld. The myth of her abduction, her sojourn in the underworld, and her cyclical return to the surface represents her functions as the embodiment of spring and the personification of vegetation

The myth of Hades and Persephone beautifully illustrates the cycle of life, death, and renewal. When Persephone ascends from the Underworld, her mother’s joy brings spring and summer to the Earth. When she returns to Hades, Demeter’s sorrow ushers autumn and winter.

On a deeper level, the story reflects the agricultural cycle. Persephone’s time above ground mirrors the planting and growth of crops, while her descent to the Underworld represents the barren winter months.

We see that Persephone isn't only associated with flowers and spring, but also the cycle of life (birth, death and rebirth), immortality, resurrection and the Underworld. Feyre left Spring Court, went utm where she died, was resurrected and was given immortality. She married Rhysand and became High Lady of the Night Court.

That's why Feysand is the Hades and Persephone trope.

So for Azriel and Elain to be Hades and Persephone, they would have to be in some sort of bargain that obliges Elain to spend time with him. This has already been done with feysand and there's no way sjm will write the same trope over and over again.

[bright-side20]

Furthering the two kinds of mating bonds theory 🙂‍↕️

*In Hofas :

"Urd guides all-she's the weaver of fate, of destiny." Bryce added after a moment, "I think she's the reason I'm here."

Bryce told Nesta that it's Urd who controls fate.

Then:

"The Fae say the Cauldron holds our fates. Maybe it became this Urd."

Nesta wondered if the Cauldron is what people in Midgard believe to be Urd.

People who say that Azriel was wrong for p the Cauldron because it's fate that creates the bonds, well, the Fae believe that the Cauldron holds their fates.

*Back to what Rhys said about who creates the bonds:

“What decides it? Who decides it?” Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies …”

Rhys mentioned fate, the Mother and the cauldron.

*Eventually, in Hofas, we learned that:

"And she," the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, "was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here-a bastardized ver- sion of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world."

Urd is, in fact, the Mother in Prythian. She and the Cauldron both control fate. The Mother and the Cauldron used to work together, but after the Asteri corrupted it, the Cauldron is no longer under the Mother's control. So in Prythian, there exist two controllers of fate:

_The mother's fate : the real one

_The Cauldron's fate : the distorted one

Which explains why Rhys mentioned the Mother and the Cauldron, both being associated with fate and creators of the mating bonds. This means there are also two kinds of bonds.

_The mother's bond (real one) : "true, paired souls.” A smile at me—at the rareness, perhaps, of what we had.

_The Cauldron's bond (distorted) :" sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some … preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring."

*The Cauldron's swirling eddies

Further emphasis on the Cauldron's swirling eddies, which Rhys said create mating bonds.

I believe that the Bone Carver was a Daglan, based on the many parallels he had with the Asteri. So:

*acowar :

The Bone Carver again fell silent, toying with the shard of the Attor’s bone in the dirt beside him. “The eddies of the Cauldron swirl in strange ways,” he murmured, more to himself than us.

How did the Bone Carver know how the Cauldron's swirling eddies were working?

*Answer :

Vesperus (daglan) :We pooled our power, and imbued those gifts into the Cauldron so that it would work our will.

It is because his power is in the Cauldron.

This means that the Cauldron's swirling eddies, which match mates, are distorted and corrupted by the Asteri's power, so it simply creates wrong bonds 💁🏻‍♀️

*Defeating the Cauldron's fate:

Until now, two beings have overpowered the Cauldron’s control over fate:

_Elain Archeron : The Cauldron seemed to realize what she’d done, too, as his head thumped onto the mossy ground. That Elain … Elain had defended this thief.

_The mother : I think something else— someone else—stopped the Cauldron from taking all of it. And I made some changes of my own.” The Mother. The only being who would see the sacrifice Nesta had made and give a little back.

So yeah let's go Elriel :

*Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself.

*Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

so I know that the moon maidens are like, servants of Selune or whatever and aren't related to Aylin but I really like the thought of them being Aylin's older sisters (maybe demigods, maybe fully celestial). I just adore the idea of them teasing Aylin about having a crush on Isobel and getting really protective of her because sure, she's a damn good fighter but also that's their giant baby sister dammit.

Listen, the change to the wizard tower encounter is probably my favourite post-release addition and I am so glad someone continued to tinker with that bit of the game. Aylin summoning a whole angelic moon-posse to obliterate your traitorous ass, while her goddess mother heaps buffs upon her with names and tooltips flavoured like "mum loves you, go destroy them bby", is absolutely a huge part of it.

Love to see it.

But while I think it's great the Slivers got featured in the game, the relationship you describe is something I really like to headcanon for her and the Shards of Selûne. There's seven of them, they're Selûne's awesome elite guard, they're planetars, which makes them incredibly powerful celestials, and the one description of them that's always trotted out boils down to "wings, blue hair, and she/her pronouns". I love it. I love making really bad jokes about it. I think they should all get to be a bit silly and dote on their giant little "sister" or "cousin" or whatever we feel like calling the relationship (and hey, who even knows what's up with Aylin, springing out of that "silvered flesh" and "celestial womb").

Becoming a Shard is also something that can be an honour bestowed upon favoured priestesses, so the gang teasing Aylin about how her wife might join them one day and become way cooler than her is an idea that amuses me (I also see this done with kindly intent, perhaps when thoughts of Isobel's mortality creep in just a bit too close).

Anyway, wishing peaceful times upon all of them for a good while, envisioning Selûne and Sune sitting by eating divine popcorn as the romcom unfolds once again.

[meanbossart]

Having absolutely tragic feelings over villain DU Drow because I'm thinking of how my Tav finished off Orin [divine intervention], which i went to interpret as him summoning an Avatar of his goddess to literally swallow her whole leading to her utter annihilation along with the shard of Bhaal she carried in her blood. So now I'm imagining Drow in her place and leads me to the question. Would he find the concept of utter oblivion comforting or scary?

Oh man, I mean... That's probably a better end than whatever Bhaal has planned for her so I guess that's a win 😬

In Bhaalist DU drow's case, he would be terrified of it. Not necessarily because of the concept itself, but rather because he sees himself as deserving of the punishment Bhaal has reserved once he dies - in this "canon villain Drow AU" he realizes he's gone completely off script and betrayed his father's wishes, and longs to be chastised. To be cast into oblivion and sidestep it entirely (even if not by choice) would be cowardly, and he doesn't want to be seen as a coward.

Post tadpole DU Drow would be comforted by it. He doesn't know what the afterlife holds in his case, with all the horrible things he's done and the big interrogation point of his heritage (does he still belong to Bhaal? Is he at his mercy when he perishes? Is he just going straight to the hells? No idea.)

He doesn't want to die above all else, ever, if possible. But if he must then oblivion sounds like a pretty safe option.

[victoriadallonfan]

You see Victoria being labeled as a potential Tyrant by Fragile One get brought up sometimes and there are plenty of discussions about her character traits itself could evolve that way… but less so for the actual plot/events go within Ward itself at the time as for what could have gone wrong/what Vicky could have done in the confines of Ward in particular if she went that way? It begs the question what future/events in was Fragile One seeing/thinking could happen?

As the numero uno Victoria understander I’m curious if you’ve thought on it/spotted those potential points of divergence in the text?

That's really what arc 13, 14, and 15 were all about.

Arc 12 primed us with Victoria having a panic attack when Jessica refuses to answer her calls when she needed her most, and Fragile One noting that she could lift Victoria up if she abandoned her morals to enforce her will. Even prior to this, arc 9 had the first thing Goddess offer Victoria was a small country to rule as its leader (and the alignment made Victoria see Goddess as a mentor figure), and arc 8 had Carol warn Victoria to not act as a tyrant and try to impress her will upon the people. Arc 13 has Victoria come face to face with the consequences of her actions in the form of the Exile world, where the villains on the level of Mama Mathers or Cradle are secretly (sort of?? The court and Judges seem to be aware of it??) sent off world to live in the wilderness with camping supplies until they are found legible for parole. It is a dark and heavy scene, with Victoria even putting on a dark mask to emulate Blind Justice that hides her expression.

Except 2 things challenge Victoria: Drillbit and Colt. Victoria does not believe Drillbit should be exiled and says that it feels wrong, but she is paralyzed by what to do, because she doesn't know how else to handle someone who is routinely a danger to others. Drillbit takes this out of her hands and goes through it of his own will, but it bothers her nonetheless.

Colt, however, is a child. She did some pretty shitty things even before she got powers (like trying to help villains kidnap Kenzie) and more after, but she was only 13 AND we know - as does Victoria soon after - that her mind has been damaged by her Shard (quite literally, her interlude describes her Shard as destroying parts of herself). Seeing Colt, and perhaps galvanized by her issues with Drillbit, Victoria says she wants to help Colt and prevent her from the Exile sentencing and tries various roundabout means of doing so (including getting Jessica onto defending Colt's mental state).

Furthermore, Victoria finds her new mask a hindrance. Many times, she remarks that she hates how it hides her expression and makes her feel disconnected from people. She ultimately abandons it even, when she appeals to the supervillains of Earth N in a very human way, and never wears it again.

The rest of the arc also has Victoria slowly have a mental breakdown as Teacher's machinations harms her relationship with Jessica permanently, makes her paranoid about what Kenzie thinks of her, makes her see the worst of heroes and villains, and feels as though all the hard work she's put in saving the city has been for nothing. By the end of arc 13, she is a bawling mess who is desperate for any way to feel like she has done something good, which leads to her helping give Sveta a humanoid body.

Arc 14 follows 13 pretty much directly, with Victoria both faking and not faking how upset she is with the public that they fell for Teacher's manipulations, but also that people like Gary Nieves are victim blaming and helping engage terrorists in gaining power. Much of the debate between her, her team, and Gary is representative of how Victoria wants to connect with the public, convince them with facts and explanations, but feels as though there is a deep divide between what they want and what is reality. She even darkly considers simply ignoring them and their complaints forever.

However her stay at Shin and being abused by their jail and government, at the threat of them killing millions of innocent people, has her realize that she doesn't believe she could just ignore them. That if worse came to worse, she'd sacrifice her own well-being and endure this abuse and her rapists machinations for the betterment of others.

Arc 15 is actually pretty simple in how it shoves Victoria's in a face to face conflict with a real tyrant: he is someone who has taken over a planet, has enforced his will upon others, and is convinced that only he has the right answers. She is around to hear other characters discuss how lifeless and without any human care his own buildings are. He treats people as disposable tools and weapons, forcing Victoria to commit grisly killings and see the deaths of hundreds of good people and even more that were mind-controlled. Her own teammates are broken mentally, crippled, and a potential love interest killed by the epitome of Tyranny.

I think this is pretty much where Victoria abandons all potential of putting herself "in charge" so to speak, and the Tyrant possibility is put to bed forever. There is no more allure, consciously or subconsciously. All she associates with the idea is pain, death, and grief.

I think if one was to consider and genuinely want to write Tyrant Victoria, one needs to have her be taken away from seeing Drillbit, from interacting with Colt, feeling frustrated with how much her darker changes get in her own way, and from being in Shin and realizing how much she values people having free-will over her own desires.

If none of this happens, I could see a Victoria who - when fighting Teacher - would think that if she was in his position, SHE would be doing better. That she could fix the system by herself, get rid of all the bad people, and do the Right Thing.

She could become Goddess, in that scenario.