#most adorable creation since mankind

[aengelren]

Pls he’s just a baby SOMEBODY SAVE HIM

[kingdumkum]

i've been so eagerly awaiting this since the moment you said you have an idea for a continuation of Plucked Flower and god of sleep Shinsou and oh. my. gods. it has exceeded my wildest imaginings!!

Patchy, this is amazing. completely gushing (and potentially way too verbose) thoughts below--with the gist being, this is amazing. YOU are amazing, and I am so, so thankful you shared this with us. a wonderful piece written by one of the most wonderful humans I know <3

(review (basically just me rambling about my favorite aspects) below, list of favorite quotes at the bottom, absolute adoration in its entirety):

This completely captures what it means to be a god. Going from blessed creators, worshipped and revered, to being taken advantage of by their own creation, that stewing resentment for mankind and all they entail (ahem, mortality and morality, amongst others) is conveyed so perfectly, from the introduction down to the characterization of Sero and Shinsou in both explicit and implicit ways. You’d already set up a brilliant dichotomy between man and god  in Plucked Flower (specifically how even the gods can fall prey to the pitfalls of human emotion), but continuing beyond Sero’s rather universal feeling of “boredom” and into Shinsou’s very, very humane feelings of jealousy and possessiveness is such a fascinating thread--especially when you note, “how could a God truly value anything if they did not have a finite time to have it? How could they enjoy splendor if they have not known poverty? How could they value a life if they could not know death? And how could they appreciate anything, if all they wanted was more?”

The way my heart DROPPED at, “and despite the many claims he so sweetly whispered within your ear, the many reassurances and acclimations of love, Hanta finally grew bored of you.” On the tail end of having read A Plucked Flower too, the fight he put up and the way he truly seemed to hold some (however little) affection, only to transmute into him doing what gods always do, is brilliantly tragic storytelling.

The slow, longing ache of knowing this would eventually happen but still finding heartbreak when it does is so beautifully conveyed, it actually made me hollow just reading it. The inevitable doom that comes with loving a god, staved off for so long you think it might not happen, coming to fruition. The sweet, sweet way that feeling of abandonment and loneliness is then pushed aside for concern for a love one is a great juxtaposition for reader’s humanity… and the fact you slowly forget that same loved one to be reflective of your loss of humanity (or at least, a further separation from it) is so poetic.

All of Hanta has me insane, by the way. Especially the sleazy way he just—reappears, after abandoning you for who knows how long, to the slightly condescending way he treats/talks to you, as if you really should have known better before getting involved with a god, and the possessiveness at the mere suggestion you might be seeking another god—this is the exact kind of thing I’d expect from god Hanta. I’m a little too in love with a possessive jerk, but with the characters themselves being gods, there’s no way around that—and your Hanta is a perfect god.

I absolutely love the growth of your reader; from the naive little flower in the first piece to how reader so expertly plays Hanta like a fiddle in finding the God of Sleep, it’s such a remarkable journey and, once again, a wondrous commentary on how what you surround yourself with is what you become. No longer is reader as meek and free as the flowers of the forest, but rather conniving, scheming, and as willful as a god. Yet the core of her remains, with the sweetness that once drew Hanta to her in the first place, and the shame that sometimes accompanies her as she’s forced to confront the life she has isn’t the one she wants. This reader is fleshed, relatable without being explicitly defined, and so defined by her surroundings that it elevates the nature of the piece tremendously.

The imagery in this piece is incredible. Describing the Underworld, in particular, with the cries of the lost souls and the darkness of the scenery, does a great job at setting up Shinsou’s character—especially as an antithesis to Hanta. Hanta, who was bathed in light and white and all things a god typically has, who treats his precious nymph like a toy he’s since grown tired of, vs. Shinsou, a dark and unwanted presence, yet existing as an oasis in the chaos, someone who exists to serve reader’s dreams instead of create new ones, is such a brilliant contrast, you can’t help but root for him—and that’s before the strong parallels of his desires and reader’s, of his dreams and reader’s, of the kinship he, as a god, finds in reader, is established. I’m also really partial to the gentleness of Tamaki, and the stark contrast of how Sero refused to share reader, even a little, with anyone, other than to show off her as a prize, vs. how Shinsou relies on Tamaki to help guide reader to and from his cave, and the gentle smiles and reassuring words they both hold. It’s an incredible balance of the two sides of man; the selfish, possessive, hedonistic values that govern the more “godlike” personages, vs the sensitive, humane values that come from the shared feeling of being outcasts, or “Othered.” 

One of my favorite symbols in this piece is, without a doubt, the idea of Hitoshi as a diamond in the rough. Even his home is representative of that, lying within the darkness of the Underworld, having to cross a river of forgotten and lost souls, full of jagged edges and sharp rocks—and yet, at the center, where he exists and reigns, it is calm. It is peaceful, and beautiful, and a safe space for reader to exist and follow her own dreams, for once, and quite frankly I think that’s lovely.

(and here’s where I start screaming…) But at the end of it, Hitoshi is STILL a god, and that’s something so fantastically buried beneath his gentleness, his reassurances, his contrast to Hanta—that’s it’s easy to forget there’s still something feral inside him. Something not meant to be controlled, even by a pretty smile, and when his manipulative side starts to show, it is game over. The story becomes a whole other class of Insane. Hitoshi truly is a god, something so easily forgotten until his scheming manipulations come to fruition, now rendered entirely unforgettable by the mere fact what a god wants, a god will take—consequence be damned.

favorite lines:

- they knew they could not stay within their mortal plane any longer; for they were meant to be treated as divinities, not as servants. - For it is much easier for a mortal to obey the wishes of a God, if they came down to them in a beacon of light and gold. (I am screeching this is so beautiful) - A god has no need for such childish things as dreams, those are silly things we made for mortals to keep them happy. - Knowing of your current plight, one of abandonment and loneliness, he could not help but relate. He found a semblance of sympathy and empathy for the creature before him; for he too found seldom joy with the realm of the Underworld, being placed her and forgotten by the Gods that claimed to be his brothers. He could not help but wish to end your suffering, as well as his. - “I have not had a more peaceful rest since the millennia started… if having you here to admire your sister means I can have more moments of levity like this, then I would be a fool to cast it aside.” - You were so willing to eat from his palm, that you have no time to properly think if his intentions were pure. - Truly, when all was said and done, this was all your own doing. “You could have asked for more!” (I cannot express how this made me feel. It just. My gut and heart and oh everything lurched.) - But what was the strength of a nymph when compared to a God? - And now that he had you, now that he finally had you here, he wished to engulf you completely and enjoy what the Gods above have denied him. - I’ll take much better care of you than he ever will.

word count: ~18.2K

paring: God!Shinso x f!Nymph!Reader

warning(s):  dubcon, marking, slight impact play, somnophilia, oral (f!recieveing), creampie, gods as always being manipulative and cruel.

authors note: hello there, I know I promised this much sooner than it is being granted but as I am sure you can see by the word count, this kind of got away from me. This is actually a sequel to Plucked Flower! And when I was discussing with the lovely @/melodramaticmura about who would be which god, it seemed rather appropriate to have Shinso be the god of sleep. And well, I wanted to make a stand-alone fic of that, perhaps even make a series on it, but it was too tempting to have him steal away Sero's prized nymph so here we are. So please, let Shinso guide you into a peaceful slumber~ 🔮

A long time ago, Gods ruled the world.

Everything that the mortals could see, touch, and know were all controlled by the Gods who blessed them with their divine skills and talents. But, over time, the mortals became more dependent - more greedy - with their reliability on these seraphic creatures. As the demands of the mortals they created, and thus cared for, grew to be overwhelming and abundant, they knew they could not stay within their mortal plane any longer; for they were meant to be treated as divinities, not as servants.

And for once, in a rare moment of solidarity, the Gods worked alongside each other to create a home for which they could call their own; an empyrean realm that only they could have access to, which contained all the splendors known to man and even more. A dwelling where they can find peace and tranquility, and to be finally removed from the demands of the mortals; to finally have the undivided devotion they so craved. For it much easier for a mortal to obey the wishes of a God, if they came they came down to them in a beacon of light and gold.

Serve away they did, the mortals, tending to their temples and bringing forth gifts upon their alters; all the while they would lavish in their heavenly realm of gold and marble, to feast upon delicacies, to relish in the prosperity that the mortals provided to them, and indulge in one another; especially if that indulgence was at the expense of a mortal, to provide them with the vanity and sense of superiority they wished to continue to grasp onto.

Through all this splendor, however, it was easy to grow bored. Hanta, like most Gods, grew bored.

For a God could never cherish anything for too long. An immortal life always paired itself with dissatisfaction; for how could a God truly value anything if they did not have a finite time to have it? How could they enjoy splendor if they have not known poverty? How could they value life if they could not know death? And how could they appreciate anything, if all they wanted was more?

Living forever took the beauty of life away. All the love and heartbreak seemed so meaningless after a while when one could find no reason to hold onto it, that in time it could be replaced by a new adventure, a new thrill, and a new body to make claim to. Why keep something when you could easily abandon the old, and seek out something new? 

And despite the many claims he so sweetly whispered within your ear, the many reassurances and acclimations of love, Hanta finally grew bored of you.

You knew it was bound to happen; there truly was only so much a nymph can do to claim the interest of a God. You knew the thrill he found, the infatuation he grew of you, was within the chase of claiming you for himself; the cat-and-mouse game he so perfectly cast and you so perfectly played into was the thrill he wanted within that moment. 

Of course, there was the thrill after he caught you. How he laid you upon his bed day in and out and claimed his prize in any way he could; whether that be with sweet words, soft kisses, warm and gentle caresses, or have you on your knees to worship his aching cock, to then have it drag in and out of your tight hole as you scream his name for the heavens to hear.

It was to fill his ego, to have the most prized and beautiful creature to claim as his own. To have complete and utter control held over you, the utter and undiverted devotion that he pulled from you constantly as you obeyed and worshipped him however he pleased. To relish in, not only your body but the jealousy of the Gods around him as they grew envious of his little pet.

And once he lost interest, once his fellow Gods grew unbothered and uncaring of his treasures, he would find some other way to gain a boost to his ego; regardless of the feelings he may hurt along the way.

You had to give him credit though, it took him much longer for him to lose interest in you than what every other god that filled the heavenly realms, and even yourself, thought. Many said a few weeks, some said a few months, and you thought perhaps a year. Though it was hard to tell given the way time seemed to matter little the more you stayed there, how it moved so quickly and yet not at all at the same time, to say how long before he lost interest but it was certainly longer than a year.

It was gradual too. Slowly, but surely, he left you alone in that small portion of the heavens he carved out for you. What started with him parting from you earlier some mornings, thus leaving the giant bed he shared with you empty, turned into every morning as you would reach for him only to be met with cold silk and loneliness to sink to your heart. And soon, those daily visits he would give to you so diligently, to allow you some much-needed company as you staved away your boredom, soon started to wane. How he used to share his meals, his laughter and companionship, started to bore him and consequently, he began to leave you with small scraps that were left behind the day before as he neglected yet another meal, and as the weeks progressed, leaving you hungry altogether. 

Though despite all of this, he would still return to you at night; to lull you to sleep in his arms and whisper those sweet nothings into your ear until you fell into a blissful sleep. And it was when he stopped arriving in your bed at night that you knew he no longer cared for you. That those declarations of love were truly just empty words so he could use you as he saw fit, like many a god to a nymph before him. Now leaving you to try and find a semblance of peace all alone in a place you did not belong.

You had no other forms of company either for the other gods barely acknowledged you. Some were spiteful that you would tarnish their realm and way of life by simply existing there as if it was your fault you were placed there. Others tolerated you, though they preferred your silence, wanting merely to look at you and nothing else. Others… they wished to have you in more carnal ways; falsely putting on kind airs only to lure you into their trap - much like Hanta - though luckily none was able to do anything untoward before Hanta intervened; but now you knew not to trust them, and to avoid them altogether.

After Hanta abandoned you, you were left alone to fend for yourself. Granted the small piece of heaven that was made for you was beautiful, and gave you some semblance of peace knowing you would not be bothered here - to which you were eternally grateful to Hanta for such a gift - it left you more lonely than you had ever been in your life. Moreso than when you were cast out from your forest of birth by your fellow Anthousai and forced to find a home, and sisterhood, by yourself.

Because through those trials of loneliness and rejection, you did find a sister. One that loved you, that built a home with you, that kept you company in the best and most nurturing of ways; a companion you adored with your whole heart. And one you were tricked to abandon to come here. 

For as lonely as your life got, at least you had her. Here, you had nothing.

You thought of her often, and the memories you shared together, as you lay upon the clouds of gold and splendor alone and unwanted. Thoughts of her made your lonely days more bearable as you reminded yourself of a time when you were wanted, where you were loved, and where you felt happy and fulfilled as you remembered the bouts of laughter shared between the two of you.

Though Nymphs were ageless, they could die in the mortal realm or transform themselves into the nature they were born to nurture. But here? You had no such release, bound to live amongst the gods until the end of days. And as they progressed, you couldn’t help but worry about your sister; you were safe, but was she? Was she still around in your little home within the mountains? Or was she now gone, lost to the passage of time? 

Your worry grew tenfold when, one morning, you tried to remember her face and couldn’t. She was the only thing that tethered you to happiness in this cruel world you found yourself in; the only thing that brought you warmth as you were surrounded by coldness. Your heart could not help but sink with dread as you frantically tried to think of her face. You had to, for she was the reason your sanity was still intact. She was the reason your heart had not broken fully.

You couldn’t help but weep for weeks on end as you slowly realized you were forgetting her.

You knew you could not sit idly by and let this happen to you; to allow these cruel creatures to break your spirit out of amusement. You had to know, had to remember, for it was all you had left; and you were going to cling to it, to fight for it, for all eternity if you had to.

So you waited, with determination blazing your heart and mind, for the God - the man - who caused all of this. Knowing that at some point he will show up and grant you a visit. He would do so every now and then, seemingly almost out of obligation like an owner would for a pet they cared little for. You knew then, you could ask him for a favor.

~

It was hard to tell how long it had been, how long you had been waiting, but finally, the day had come when you were granted a visit from the winged God; the flapping of his wings signalling you, and thus filling your body with hope, as you heard him approach. Scrambling you got to your feet, unable to hide your excitement as you stood, as you waited with bated breath for him to appear.

Hanta brought with him a tray of food, many delicacies that the Gods would indulge in, ambrosia and wine, you were unsure if this was a way for him to apologize for leaving you for so long without a meal, but the proud smile he garnered on his face when he approached you was clear he felt like he was providing you with a gift.

And though you wished to scowl at him, wanting to allow him to know how unfair it was for him to leave you with little food and company, you knew you had to be your usual sweet self if it meant allowing you to get your way. 

You welcomed him with open arms, clinging to him tightly as you knew he loved for you to do, as you babbled sweetly on how much you missed him, nuzzling your face into his chest as a sign of utmost affection.

You could feel him chuckle before the deep and mirthful sound could fill your ears, as he brought a hand to pet your hair “I miss you too, my beautiful flower.”

His gentle petting of your hair turned into gentle tugging, clearly wanting to have your part so he may rest and enjoy the meal he brought; guiding you gently to do the same and he passed you a goblet of wine; deep purple in colour a far cry from the strawberry wine he used to give you.

You sipped it gently as you listened to him regale tales of what had befallen him while he was away, some excuse as to why he could not visit you before now, as he indulged in your quiet devotion. Though after a while, noticing your lack of enthusiasm or want to partake in the glorious meal, he grew a little concerned as he leaned over towards you to pet at your cheek.

“What is wrong, my sweet love?” Hanta asked of you, moving to push a few strands of hair away from your face “You do not seem yourself.”

You found yourself bashful over his sweet gesture, almost surprised that he still held some tenderness for you. With a timid smile, and huff of a laugh you shook your head “No, no, nothing is wrong.”

“I can tell when you are lying, love” Hanta smiled back, ducking his head to look properly at your face; finding your reaction to him filling his sense of pride. “So please, indulge me”

You took the line he was casting, knowing now would be the only time you could possibly have to pluck the courage to ask him; shyly looking back at him as you tried to find the words, forever grateful for his patience as he looks upon you with tender eyes as he waits for you to speak.

“I was just wondering…” You finally began, “Seeing as I have a few myself these past few nights, if… if you gods ever dream?”

Sero scoffed at you, finding your question as silly and innocent as you were, tone almost condescending as he leaned down closer, a hand continuously stroking your cheek. “Oh my dear, of course we don’t. A God has no need for such childish things as dreams, those are silly things we made for mortals to keep them happy.”

You cannot help yourself from turning your eyes downcast at his almost brutal condescension. Taking a moment to compose yourself before you batted your lashes up at him; your wide and sad eyes a weakness you knew to be his when it came to you, as you asked him again, “Hanta, surely there are times when they are needed, even for a God. If what you say is true, if gods have no need for dreams that mortals do, then there is still a need. Therefore there is a God who provides these, and thus can help another God if needed.” 

Hanta began to draw away from you, clearly figuring out where you were trying to lead the conversation. His eyes could not help but turn darker as jealousy began to cloud his vision of your wanting to seek out another god, as his grip upon your head grew tighter. “You want this God, is that it? The God that provides you these sweet dreams, you want him in your bed?”

You tried to shake your head as best you could, wincing at the slight pain he was now causing you, whimpering out weakly, “No, not at all! I only wish for you to warm my bed!” 

“Then why are you asking me about him?” Hanta could not stop his voice from turning dark, not at all enjoying the fact that you would want to seek another god for any reason; were you truly ungrateful over all that he had done for you that you would find it inadequate?

Though you were not wanting to engage in his wrath, you could not help but become a little elated over the fact that there was a God of Sleep; and Hanta knew of him. But if you ever wished to find him, to be allowed to move freely to do so, you would have to calm, and flatter, the God before you.

“Because I need aid with my dreams,” you whimpered out, eyes turning glassy as they begin to fill with tears - another weakness you knew Hanta to have and for you to exploit. And you almost wanted to smile, to drop the act, at how quickly it worked.

You could see his eyes soften, his grip loosening, as he scanned your face; his other hand coming up to cup your other cheek as he began to fawn over you in concern. “Why? Have you been plagued with nightmarish vision? Have they hurt you?”

You shook your head, though it clearly was not enough to reassure him as his hands continued to stroke your cheeks in a calming manner. You knew you had him in the palm of your hand, as you allowed a few tears to fall from your eyes.

“Then why do you need to seek the Sleep God, my love?” He asked, voice still gentle as he looked down upon you, wanting nothing more than to cease those tears from falling.

“So I can remember my sister!” You blubbered out, and though the tears were falsified before they became honest and true as you reminded yourself of your sister; how the thoughts of forgetting began to cause those tears to fall more freely and stain your delicate face.

“Please, I left her behind for my love for you was stronger. I cannot help but miss her, and if I cannot go to the mortal realm to see her, then I wish to dream of her.” You choked out, as you grabbed hold of his hand, kissing his palm to try and sweeten him and his ego further. “Please Hanta, if you love me as you claim to do, you will allow me this small gift.”

Who was he to refuse you? His good, and obedient nymph. He couldn’t, not when you looked at him so sorrowfully. With a nod of his head, he pulled you into his arms, shushing you as he kisses the crown of your head. 

“Do not cry, my love. I’ll take you to him.” 

~

Though the heavenly realm proved to be a gift above all else, it was not shared equally amongst those that built it. Those whose gifts were heavily tied to the mortals, that dealt with the macabre that their lives would bring, were looked down upon by those whose talents were more serene. It was easier, and more harmonious, to live amongst those that gave love and song than those who had to deal with death and sorrow.

So they were banished to a realm seldom visited unless a favour was needed; a realm filled with darkness that lacked the treasures from above; the Underworld.

Hanta kept you close as you made your way down into the depths of the depressive world, carrying you within his arms and tucking your head into his chest to spare you from the horrors that await a long journey such as this. Needing to protect you, his precious flower, from a dangerous place such as this realm proved to be; a venture no nymph should find herself in, but he was willing to do this for you to cease the sorrow that had befallen you. At times, you yourself couldn’t help but whimper as you clung even tighter to his tunic as the wails of lost souls made your heart stutter with fear.

Soon his wings fluttered to a stop, gingerly setting your feet upon the damp ground, before a cavern-like area. The dark obsidian that lay jagged, almost broken, surrounded the open entrance of the cave and made you question if you should enter, for it seemed far from hospitable. Nonetheless, Hanta pushed you forward, forcing you to take the first step towards what you desired; knowing that he would not be wanted within the rooms of these lands

“Go on, my love” Hanta smiled gently, easing your fear and reassuring you of any falsities your mind could conjure up. “He will not harm you, and I will stay right here should you need me.” 

With a tentative nod, you resigned yourself to your fate as you turned towards the lair before you. With a deep breath, your trembling feet began their stride toward the God who may be able to help you.

The corridor itself was long, lined with those jagged dark rocks and jewels, as you kept yourself small and away from it all as you continued down the winding passage; unsure if it would even allow you to find your way out of its seemingly endless path. A dim light, one of calming blue, rid you of any sense of hopelessness as you approached a room. The room was darker than what you were used to, but that calming blue hue filled the entirety of the space and allowed you to take in the surroundings.

It was more beautiful than you were expecting. An inverse of the pastel and gold that covered the heavenly realm, as dark marble and a silvery mist surrounded you; intricate furnishings with many a carving of stories long past deep within them. Despite the warnings, despite the claims otherwise, this place was not of ruin and decay, but rather of equal splendor that you have become accustomed to from the heavenly realm above.

In the center of all the strange but wonderful opulence sat a giant glass orb propped so beautifully atop of a pillar, woven so intricately like vines, of tourmaline. You couldn’t help but approach it, the alluring purple aura seemed to call out to you, reaching your delicate hand before you, nothing else crossed your mind that your desire to touch the orb's smooth surface.

“You’re a bold little one, aren’t you?” Hitoshi spoke, chuckling deeply as he took in your startled form. 

You jolted your body towards where you heard the God speak, and looked upon his figure that sat on a simple, but elegant, throne of silver; mere feet past the orb. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, flushing them in embarrassment for being so engrossed by a crystalline ball that you failed to notice him. Sheepishly you lowered yourself to your knees - tucking your head close to your chest - as you bowed deeply to him to showcase your respect.

“I apologize for my rude intrusion,” you whimpered, knowing how fickle and quick to anger most Gods were, and hoping your little oversight of his presence would not cause his wrath.  

“Rise,” He tells you, clear from his infliction that he finds boredom in your display of decorum, sitting more upright within his throne to regard your form with interested eyes. “And state your business here. For it is not every day a mortal like yourself so brazenly enters my domain.”

You nervously shift your weight from foot to foot, keeping your gaze downcast as you do as you are told; unable to not find his intense gaze unnerving. “I-I was hoping to seek your skills, to help me with a sorrowful plight I find myself enduring for I-!.” 

His low chuckle made your shoulders tense even further, as the flush that painted your face grew darker. He raised a hand to cease your babbling from continuing; perhaps he found you childish if the condescending shake of his head as he leaned closer to you, was anything to go by.

“I already know what you are here for, little one. Merely wanted to see you squirm in nervousness for a moment longer.” He began to explain. “I already know who you are and your plight; the sad reality of the God of Sleep is that I know every mortal’s dream, and must endure the burdens that come with it.” 

You can tell his words rung true, for as you finally gazed up at his handsome face you could see the dark circles that stained the skin under his eyes, his own sunken deep within his skull, you could tell he suffered the same nightmarish visions, the unease and sorrow, and the sleeplessness you, and the many mortals like you, may find.

“You wish to see your sister, for you are forgetting her,” Hitoshi continued, hand rubbing his forehead as he sighed, watching the elation come forth upon your face as you frantically nodded your head, knowing that now he must aid you in some fashion or else you would not leave him to be alone once more. 

He stood from his throne, his height more imposing than you thought it to be, to stalk his way over to you and the crystalline ball you stand beside; shrinking away from him, you allowed him to pass you with little fuss. With a wave of his hand, the orb filled with a cloud of dark purple smoke. He beckoned you closer to him once it did, and you watched as the smoke slowly cleared away the closer you found yourself to the God and his crystalline glass; soon revealing your sister’s slumbering face.

“She dreams of you often,” He stated, standing aside to allow you the chance to look upon the image without distraction. 

“She does?” You could not help but become overwhelmed with both joy and sorrow as you gazed upon her; elated to know she was still alive and dreamt of you. You just merely wished you could do the same. Tears formed in your eyes as you reached out a cautious hand to gently touch upon the smooth glass, to caress the image of her cheek. “It warms my heart to know that, thank you.”

Hitoshi allowed you a moment to stare, gaze looking upon you in question; pondering what he should do. Knowing of your current plight, one of abandonment and loneliness, he could not help but relate. He found a semblance of sympathy and empathy for the creature before him; for he too found seldom joy within the realm of the Underworld, being placed here and forgotten by the Gods that claimed to be his brothers. He could not help but wish to end your suffering, as well as his. He tried his hardest to garner a plan out of this small act of kindness he would give forth to you in your time of need.

“You certainly act brave,” he called out to you, tone more gentle than before, “but I know you wish to dream of her yourself though pride is stopping you from asking me such a favour. For the Gods that surround you only grant one if you provide something in return.”

He pauses, allowing you a moment to take in his words; speaking once more as he could tell your attention was back on him rather than your sister, watching as your brows furrowed in question, knowing he must speak carefully in order for his plan to work

“I can assure you that I wish nothing in return,” he stated plainly, as he moved to sit on his throne once more. “The end of your sorrowful anguish, to cease the added pain and suffering it causes me, will be payment enough. I only ask for you to visit me here, should you wish to take upon my offer, for it shall be easier for me to provide you with the dreams you want from my throne.”

His response took you by surprise, as you gazed upon him in shock, overwhelmed by his apparent kindness that you could not do anything for a moment but stand there frozen in place - much like the few marble statues that decorated his home.

“Does that suit you?” Hitoshi asked, a brow raised in question as he watched you with amusement.

You nodded your head in a rapid fashion as you scurried your way back to him; unable to stop yourself from taking hold of his hands and squeezing them as you knelt in a bow before him once again; “God of Sleep, truly I wish there were more words I could say and express to you my gratitude and thanks to your kindness, but alas I cannot, but please know from the bottom of my heart that I am so overjoyed to hear you speak those words….” You continued profusely babbling to him your thanks and you kept his hand tightly within yours. 

“Hitoshi, you may call me Hitoshi.” He simply smiled, finding your devotion towards him at that moment welcomed for it rarely happened, relishing in it for a moment longer before removing your hands from his. “I await our next visit, but for now it is time for you to depart.”

You nodded your head in understanding before you bowed your head to him once more in respect, then gingerly walked down the few steps from his throne and towards the long, jagged corridor of obsidian without another word or complaint. 

“I will send my trusted friend Tamaki to fetch you,” Hitoshi called out to you, a smirk playing on his lips. “So there will be no need to bother and bring Hanta back with you.”

~

Hitoshi was true to his word, another surprising moment for you within a land of selfish and deceiving Gods, for when you woke the next morning - alone once more in your vast bed of silk - you caught sight of a man standing within a dark wooden gondola, seemingly waiting for you. Clearly, there was no one else he could possibly be there for, as this small portion of the heavens was made for you, a portion that seldom had visitors. 

Slowly you rose, eyes straining to properly see him, though you knew he was here for you the man situated himself so far away from your slumbering form that you couldn’t help but have a twinge of doubt.

‘Was he perhaps timid?’

A strange notion, and trait, for a God to possess but the closer you approached him, in your barely covered form, the more you began to realize it was true. Another handsome face, as all Gods possess, though his pale skin and dark hair were a striking contrast to the bright flush that stained his face and pointed ears; clearly he was bashful over looking at you in such a state - his eyes never looked upon for more than a brief second before darting away.

“A-are you, Tamaki...?” You asked him, timidness within your own voice as you softly called out to him, trepidation filling your being as you continued to approach him; after all, you had been fooled before by false displays.

“Y-yes I am!” You could see his eyes snap up to you as he stood taller as if bringing forth his name meant bringing forth his station and thus made him want to stand with pride. “I am the Ferryman of the Underworld, I was sent here to get you.”

You watched as he paused, giving you one more look-over before averting his eyes again, letting out a small cough of discomfort over your barely covered body; a reaction you were not used to getting, though perhaps he too was guarded for the fear of unleashing the wrath of a fellow brother was not something he wished upon himself.

“...Though perhaps I should allow you to dress before bringing you before Hitoshi,” he finished, clutching tighter the giant wooden oar he carried and was using for support

Your face flushed in a similar red to the God before you as you nodded your head, perhaps it would have been wiser to dress before approaching the strange presence that entered your little domain, but curiosity always did get the better of you. You nodded your head politely before scurrying off to find suitable garb to wear.

You admired Tamaki’s patience, and his courteous nature for it took you far longer to find a dress that would keep you warm as you stayed in the cooler domain of the Underworld; after all, when Sero brought you here, dressing you in fine clothing was the least of his worries. Every time you looked over at the Ferryman, his eyes were never focused on you, but rather daydreaming as he gazed upon the soft pastel colours of clouds above.

You approached him again once ready, and the kind smile he cast as he gently helped guide you into his gondola put your racing heart at ease; you could not say with certainty that you could trust him, but as he allowed you to sit and get comfortable before slowly descending his vessel down towards the domain he called home you couldn’t help but think that maybe you could.

He was a wonderful guide as well as you made your way back into the treacherous waters and dark world that was the netherworld. His tone, and demeanor, always reassured your every need; from when your shoulders would tense as the gondola grew a little too close to the sides of a cavern, or how your hands would grasp the side of the vessel tightly as the descent moved a little too quickly, or when the screams of the wailing souls became almost unbearable causing you to cover your eyes - he would gently reassure your fears every time.

“Do not fret, fair nymph,” Tamaki’s soft voice rang out above the screeching souls that lay below you, effectively stealing your attention away from their pity. “They will pass in due time, they merely wish to make those suffer alongside them; once they see you will not befallen to their tricks, they will leave you be.”

“They will..?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, unable to properly hear yourself as you continued to try and close your hearing off to the cries of the lost souls, scooting yourself towards the middle of the gondola to avoid their reaching hands.

Yet he still heard you, as if the deafening keenings meant nothing to him, as he nodded his head; using his long oar to steer his vessel down a long stretch of water, away from that of the river Styx. “And do not fear them, as long you are in my care they will not harm you nor snatch you from my boat.”

Slowly the gondola came to a stop, the motion as smooth as the silvery water below, in front of a familiar obsidian cave - the entrance still as daunting and inhospitable as you remembered it being the day before, even if now you knew you were wanted within those walls. He helped guide you, with a courteous hand, up from your seat and out of the dark wooden craft he had grown accustomed to; only pulling his hand from your grasp, and thus support, once your feet were firmly planted on the ground before you. 

“Thank you, Tamaki,” You said, eyes gleaming with genuine sincerity as you gazed upon him, your hand taking his once more to give it a small squeeze of gratitude. You almost giggled when you noticed his cheeks began to flush once more, as his bashfulness took hold and caused him to turn away from you yet again and focus his attention elsewhere.

“I shall be here to guide you back once you are done,” he muttered, his voice never before sounding so small since you met him, as he tugged his hand from your grasp. “Now go. Hitoshi can become impatient if you make him wait too long.”

With a nod of your head, you turned to face the mouth of the cave, dread setting in once more as you swallowed thickly the anxiety that began to bubble up within you; praying that you had not caused the God of Sleep ire for taking so long to get to him as you made your first steps back to his throne.

The blue light guided you as before, calming the gnawing apprehension that made a purchase into your heart for you felt as if you were a lamb being led to slaughter despite the generosity and kindness you were shown merely moments before. Tamaki had said that he would not have harm be brought before you, therefore he would not lead you to harm. You were not a lamb being led to slaughter, as you so felt at that moment, by merely approaching and being within Hitoshi’s lair.

Just as you did before, with timid and apprehensive steps, you stepped through the threshold of silver smoke and jagged obsidian into the room he resided and called home; eyes downcast, feeling smaller than ever before, you took gingered steps to where he sat upon his pearly throne, kneeling before him as a mortal should before a God. His imposing figure, one that loomed over you, caused you to lower your bow further until your head laid upon the cool marble your feet once stood upon.

“Not as bold today, are we?” Hitoshi chuckled, releasing you with an unhurried motion of his hand, his eyes staying with your figure as you moved to stand before him.

He watched as you simply shook your head in response, gaze still downcast as if too nervous to meet his eye; a frown formed upon his lips in disappointment over your timid display, wishing for you to be more excited, more jubilant like you were in your last meeting. Though perhaps it was because of your actions yesterday that you felt the need to be more apprehensive of your every move, not wanting to accidentally offend or upset him.

Hitoshi hummed, finding your continued lack of response telling of his assumptions. He stood from his throne and gracefully sauntered down the few imposing steps before it, regarding you and your smaller form for a brief moment before he ushered you to follow him, to which you did so dutifully; to come before the crystalline ball and its swirling clouds of violet haze. 

Once more, when the smoke began to tire of its own billowing dance and wished to retire away, images of your sister arose causing you to sigh out in quiet joy and behold her sweet and slumbering form. 

“You may stay for as long as you wish,” Hitoshi whispered out, finding that if he were to speak louder he may spook you from the charming trance he had put you under, as he placed his hand upon the small of your back to guide you closer to where you truly wished to be.

He almost chuckled at how you merely nodded in response to his generosity, too engrossed with your sister to think of anything else; even the gracious God providing you such a spectacle. Perhaps if he was in a worse mood, he may have been offended, perhaps even telling you to leave. And yet, he found it rather amusing, endearing even. He could tell why you were plucked from the mortal realm and kept amongst the gods as a pretty rose to gaze upon for eternity - you were certainly an interesting creature, at least as far as he could tell.

“Enjoy it for as long as you may like,” he spoke again, settling down once more onto his throne, chin within his palm as he gazed at you wondering if your response would change. He chuckled to himself when he saw the small rise and nod of your head; clearly too enraptured still to even think of a single word.

Time was frozen still for you, at least that was how you saw it, when you gandered down upon your sister; eyes filled with warmth as your fingers delicately outlined her face with thoughts that raced through your mind. You wondered what she dreamt of, what the days ahead of her looked like, and if she remembered you. A faint smile painted your lips as you thought of all the possibilities that could befall upon her.

Though time at that moment was still for you, it still marched onward.

For Hitoshi, he watched you for hours. His chin never left his palm, as his eyes just softly gazed at your form; curiosity further seeped into his being the longer you stayed. He was almost disappointed when he had to have this little visit come to an end, something he could not help but find odd as no words were spoken between the pair of you. Yet he could feel he missed your presence already.

“The sun is about to rise, little one,” he called out as he sat more upright upon his throne, “which means your sister will wake, and thus we will no longer be able to see her in my crystalline orb.” 

“Has it really been that long?” You softly answered, voice barely above a whisper as your hand dropped from the item in question back to hang limply at your side.

“Afraid it has.” 

“Then I thank you kindly for allowing me such a prolonged gift as this,” You said, casting forth to him a smile of gratitude; though despite your efforts not, you could tell sadness seeped through. You bowed once more, kneeling upon the ground you had spent hours standing upon. “It was more than I could have hoped for.”

“You are welcome to come back here if you so choose,” He watched as you stood once more, an amused smile gracing his handsome face. “For you have been nothing but a quiet and respectful guest.”

“I-I can…?” You questioned, hands coming forth to clasp together nervously; wondering if his amusement was genuine due to your company or if he had a trick he wished to play and had accidentally shown his hand.

“I have not had a more peaceful rest since the millennia started.” He began, gracefully taking a pause so he may walk over to you. “If having you here to admire your sister means I can have more moments of levity like this, then I would be a fool to cast it aside.”

Hitoshi took your hand in his, bringing it forth to place a tender kiss upon the back of it before turning it over to place a small golden bell within your palm, before letting it go. 

“Should you ever wish to return, ring this bell twice. It shall signal to Tamaki that you will be in need of his services, and thus will return you here.”

It was the jubilation on your face, he could only assume, that was what made him wish to provide you this sanctuary in the first place. Your smile beamed forth a ray of light as you gazed up at him, clasping tightly the small gift he had provided to you close to your heart.

“Thank you!” You gushed, feet almost stumbling over themselves as you didn’t know if you wanted to go forth to him and take his hand to showcase your gratitude, or if you wanted to leave to ensure further rest for this God before you (as well as showcase your prize to Tamaki, the man the bell was tied to).

In the end, you chose to scamper away, your gratitude and declarations of thanks echoing within the long and winding hallway. Hitoshi merely shook his head, breathing a sigh of mirth as he returned to his throne; his mind raced with thoughts of you. He wondered if he would get to see more moments of your bubbling personality showcased to him, more so than the small snippet he was blessed with at that moment. 

Ultimately all of his thoughts led to one conclusion, that he hoped you would ring the bell very soon.

~

Despite your desire otherwise, it took you a little more than a fortnight to call upon Tamaki once more; not at all for the reason that you were no longer interested in visiting the Underworld once again and indulging in the gifts brought before you, but rather you would feel horrible if you were to summon a God such as he to take you to and fro on whatever whim you had. Knowing he had far more important tasks to uphold, not simply to take care of you.

Yet, Tamaki greeted you with that same kind smile, one that grew wider when you apologized for being such an inconvenience as you clambered into his boat. 

“Nonsense.” He chuckled, using his oar to steer his vessel. “Your company is a highlight to my day, a far better kind than the souls that screech for my attention. So you need not worry about calling me forth.”

“Is that so?” You hummed, leaning forward towards him with a smile, placing your chin in your palm.

“Yes.” His face flushed that familiar shade of red, yet his eyes remained on you - clearly less shy than before as he grew more accustomed to your presence. “So, call upon me whenever you wish, for I know Hitoshi would prefer if you did as well.”

His eyes then looked away from you to instead focus on successfully steering you to where you were to be; back to Hitoshi. You took the time to survey the surroundings, as it was clear the ride was to remain in silence until the end, taking into account all the small jewels and gems that littered the dark walls of the nether realm. A small glimmer of beauty and hope in an otherwise bleak and dreadful world as you continued your descent. 

Though this time, after the boat had slowed to a stop, a visitor was there waiting for you. 

Hitoshi stood tall, making the daunting entrance of his lair seem small and almost meek. He approached the gondola with purposeful steps. His eyes glimmered with mirth as he nodded his head towards his old friend Tamaki before he bowed before you.

“As always, you have arrived safe and sound.” Hitoshi’s deep voice mumbled out, as he stood to his full height once more. “I am grateful to be able to have Tamki provide such a service.”

“As am I.” You managed to get out, voice meek, as you looked over at the ferryman in question. “He certainly puts me at ease and makes this descent more palatable.”

“Yes, well, I cannot argue with such a statement,” Hitoshi mumbled again before presenting his hand for you to take. “But a ride is not why you are here, now is it? Come along, little one, we cannot keep Tamaki from his duties any longer.”

You nodded your head, giving one last grateful smile towards the God who brought you here, before gingerly placing your hand upon his; finding Hitoshi’s gentle strength almost dizzying as he lifted you from the gondola with ease.

With practiced ease, surely muscle memory for him at this point, he guided you through the caverns towards his home; not at all bothered by the sharp stones that jutted from the walls or the rocky terrain as you were. You leaned into him often, finding his presence and body a needed support, as you tried to keep up with his quick pace.

You wished that the path toward his throne room would be more kind, less abrasive, and less aggressive toward those that wished to seek his help. But much like those gemstones hidden amongst the cavern walls of the Underworld, once you got through all the dread and unpleasantness, you were greeted with something wonderful. And the vast room he called his own always seemed to comfort you in some way whenever you entered it.

This time, when you passed through the haze of silver smoke that always permeated the air around his threshold, like a door to keep his privacy intact, you already found your sister’s slumber face illuminating the giant crystalline ball you had grown so fond of.

Hitoshi allowed you to break free from his hold of you to dart towards your sister, following after you at a much more leisurely pace. He could not blame you for your eagerness to see her, after all her slumbering form was a beauty to behold in and of itself, however he did wish he could hold you and your attention just a moment longer before it was diverted elsewhere.

Nevertheless, he had a plan today. One that he knew you would adore above all else, even more so than any gift the Love God had ever given you previously, or since you entered the realm of the Gods. Unhurried, he followed behind you, taking in the image of your admiring eyes for a moment longer before deciding to break the peaceful silence that had befallen.

“Do you wish to visit her?” He asked, placing his hand to the back of your neck to stroke the hair that laid there.

“More than anything…” You whispered, smiling fondly at the image before you, an action you had grown accustomed to doing. “However, such a wonder cannot happen, nor be granted to me while I am here.”

Hitoshi chuckled, an almost sinister grin forming upon his lips as he gazed down at you, lowering his head to whisper in your ear, “What if I told you that you could?”

He delighted in the way your body shivered at his action, the way your eyes finally were diverted from your sister and thus focused upon him; that he finally was the one to capture your whole attention.

“Can you?” You breathed out, having lost all the air within your lungs and body over his words; unable to breathe at not only the possibility of perhaps being able to hold your sister in your arms again, but the price it might cost for such a miracle.

“Dreams are an amusing thing, little one.” Hitoshi smiled, taking hold of your shoulders so you could face him fully. “A reality that is not fully our own, a realm in and of itself that is not beholden to the same rules as ours.”

He paused, and watched as your little brain tried to understand fully what he was saying. Finding it adorable when your brows furrowed together in concentration as you tried to put the pieces he was alluding to together. He brought his hand up to pat your head, stroking his palm down your hair soothingly as he continued.

“I can control that realm, a gift given to me by my mother.” He muttered those words, his smile growing wider as he saw your eyes light up in hope. “If you allow me your trust, to give forth your sleep to me, I shall be able to connect your dreams together and thus allow you a brief moment to be together again.”

It was almost comical to him how trusting you were, how you would so easily give up something so precious as the ability to command your own sleep to him. How you practically threw yourself into his arms, in both desperation and shock that such a gift could exist, as you quietly begged him for that chance.

“Please Hitoshi!” You said, hands clinging tightly to his tunic as you felt your eyes well with tears as your feelings overwhelmed you. “I beseech you, please, take me to her. I would ask nothing more of you, of your skills, gifts, or time, if you allowed me this. My anguish would cease being your burden if you allowed me to speak with her just this once.”

You turned your face away from him as you felt the warmth of your tears begin to stain your cheeks. Wanting to lessen your humiliation, you focused back on the image of your sister, and you asked him once more to take you to her, even if only for a brief moment.

Your naivety, your utter trust in him after all you had known and learned from the Gods, made Hitoshi’s smile grow even darker as mischievousness tainted it. You were so willing to eat from his palm, that you had no time to properly think if his intentions were pure. So blindsided by the love of your sister and desire to see her, you would do anything - even if it meant being at his mercy. 

He almost felt pity for you, such a sweet creature like yourself being taken advantage of by a more powerful being. 

Almost.

“Hush, little one,” he cooed, almost in condescension, as he pulled you against him once more to dry the tears that fell so freely from your eyes. “I would have not have offered such a gift if I had no intention of giving it to you.”

He continued to brush your tears away as he listened to you hiccup and sob, trying your best to form a response to him and his kindness but failing; shushing you once more as he pulled your head to rest against his chest, allowing you a moment of reprieve to calm yourself down.

“Now, now.” He began after silence had enveloped the pair of you for a breath. “Whenever you are ready, please lay yourself down in any place you deem comfortable within my home.”

He allowed you to pull away once more, watching as you sniffled and nodded your head, your hand wiping away the last of your tears as you looked about the abode. Deciding that his throne would be the most comfortable spot to choose if you were to lay down. However, you could not bring yourself to gain the courage to sit upon his throne. Instead, you chose to lean your body upright to sit comfortably against it, your head settled upon the arm of his chair to further ensure that you would slump over once sleep overtook you.

Hitoshi wanted patiently as you made your decision, finding your bold action to use his throne in some fashion entertaining, a refreshing outcome from your usual polite and timid nature. He approached you once it was made clear you were comfortable, kneeling down to your eye level as he brushed your hair away from your face.

“Close your eyes for me… there we are, that’s good,” he whispered out, eyes turning a pale silver, like the mist that surrounded his room, before he brought his hand up to your face. “Now, I must warn that you may feel nauseous once being thrust from one realm to the next, do your best to focus on where you are headed, for it will help, alright?”

You nodded your head in acknowledgment over his words, shifting one last time in a more comfortable position. “Alright.”

“Good, and do not fret, I will watch over you”

With that, his hand made contact with your brow as his power surged through your being. Your eyes rolled back into your skull, as you felt your consciousness being violently thrust from this plane, this realm of existence. You fought back the turning of your stomach, the urge to fetch up the bile that sat in your stomach, as you gripped tightly to your robes; to ground yourself into the reality you wished to be in most, a dream with your sister. Abruptly, your world and soul stopped moving, lurching you forward to fall into a soft and grassy field; a meadow that reminded you of when you used to run through and create flower crowns with your sister, a long time ago.

You turned, and turned, and turned, trying to find your bearings as well as anything of importance or familiarity within the giant landscape of flora you had been transported to. Your eyes tried their best to adjust to the bright light that had been thrust upon you from a sun that was nowhere in sight; but after all the disorientation that you had suffered, your mind eventually cleared. Gone was the haze that clouded it, and now you could finally spot, far in the distance, a sight that made your heart warm. Your old home.

You picked up your skirts with a watery smile, doing your best to hold back the tears of happiness that were about to fall, as you began to run towards it. Elated was how you felt for at last you made it back to the one place you felt joy within your long life. Back to the place where you felt love and adoration; back to her. 

When the rundown cabin, filled with trinkets and coin from travelers long past, became far more than a small speck on the horizon, your voice came to you. Shouting your sister’s name, screaming out your presence here, as you continued to sprint as quickly as you could to her.

You caught sight of her after a few calls of her name, her head poking out from the bedroom window you used to share. Your pace quickened, far past your own abilities but you found little use to care of the pain when the person you loved most was in view, as you called out even louder; an arm waving to allow her to notice you promptly. You became jubilant as the realization of who you were came across her face. You almost tripped over your own feet as laughter began to pour out of you, as you took in the actions of her throwing open the cabin door with abandon, her not bothering to care of any damage she caused, before she ran to meet you.

The embrace you shared with one another was so forceful and tight that it caused you both to fall to the ground, pain and soreness subsided by the sounds of each other's laughter over finally being together once more; to hold one another and feel whole again. Sobs soon mixed in with the laughter, tears of joy understandably shed, as you both clung onto each other tightly. You were the first to pull away, certain that she would not disappear once doing so, wanting to see her face fully for the first time after all these years.

“There you are,” you breathed out, pressing your forehead against her with a relieved sigh “Oh, how I missed you terribly! My thoughts while we were apart were only of you.”

“As were mine!” She huffed out a laugh, bringing forth her hand to dry the flowing tears from her eyes. “I have been dreaming the same dream for years, hoping that one day you would return back to me.”

“I’m sorry it took so long!” You sobbed, leaning into her to wrap your arms tightly around her, burying your face within her shoulder as you babbled out another apology; finding comfort as she gingerly played with your hair as she used to do whenever you were upset.

“There is no need to apologize, my dear sister.” She uttered, resting her head atop yours. “All that matters right now is that we are finally together. After so long, after so much time apart, we are together again.”

She felt more so than saw your head nod in agreement, taking yet another moment to bask in the warmth that was your glow (as you did the same) before she patted at your back, an action that caused you to pull away slightly. With a warm smile, she caressed your cheek, humming in delight when she felt the heated skin upon her fingertips as her eyes searched yours.

“Come with me,” she finally spoke, standing with an outstretched hand for you to take. “Let me bring you home.”

With an ecstatic nod of your head, you agreed. Tears formed in your eyes at the mere thought of entering the home you once shared with her again as you took hold of her hand, allowing her to pull you to your feet. Together you walked alongside each other, pulling on each other’s arms, as nostalgia washed through you both - like a warm blanket on a winter’s eve - as you remembered a time when this was the existence you lead.

Meanwhile, as you slept, Hitoshi dutifully watched over you; finding your slumbering face rather beautiful as you allowed him to keep guard. He wondered if you were also so trusting, so naive about the world and the nature of Gods. Surely you must be if a few simple words of affirmation by another would allow you to be swallowed up by him; to follow willingly into a world not your own. Even more so, trust a God like him, after staying in this unforgiving place for so long.

Regardless, he stroked your cheek with a fond smile, knowing that this would not be the last time he would see you, to relish in your serene beauty, and enjoy your company; already his mind had raced with the many ways he wished to spend it.

~

The Gods within the Underworld barely get any company, as the Gods in the realm above them would rather steer clear of their domain; a sense of haughtiness as they turn their noses up at the prospect of spending their precious time with Gods they deem lower than them.

Therefore it cannot be helped that Hitoshi grew rather fond of you so quickly; a meek and sweet little nymph like yourself was more than a welcomed guest in his domain. Truly he would do anything in his power to have you keep visiting him and wanting his company. And, being the naive little thing you were, you so easily gave him the control he needed to ensure you would come crawling back to him; the power to manipulate your dreams and sleep. 

He wasn’t going to be cruel, after all, he wanted you to trust him and to do so of your own free will. At first, he only took an hour or two of sleep away, a simple ploy set in action for whenever you arrived back to him, he was able to easily coerce you to stay even longer; to catch up on the rest you had missed. Of course, you did not mind in the slightest, for that merely meant allowing you the chance to spend more time with your sister in the small way you could.

Once you woke, you always repaid him in kind, indulging him further with your awakened company; answering his questions, both of simplicity (like the times you recalled what your favoured the most) and those of a more personal nature (like the many stories of your previous life within the mortal realm). As well, you allowed him to showcase to you more of his domain and home, taking his arm with little fuss as he regaled the histories of the items that surrounded you, explaining to you how everything worked within the Underworld; from the souls, Tamaki would bring through, to the decisions Shigraki would make to keep things in order, to his own duty of keeping mortals well rested so they may continue their devotion to the many Gods they adored.

At the end, before he set you free to leave with Tamaki, he would always find the small pleasure of kissing the back of your hand; heart thrilling as you would cast before him your sweet smile before bidding adieu. He longed for you to gaze at him so lovingly, to hold and keep that precious smile with him forever.

Though, after a while, your stays with him became less frequent. Hitoshi used to be blessed by your company almost every other day. Before he knew of it, those frequent days together dwindled down to merely a couple of visits every few weeks. Now? Now Hitoshi would be lucky if he got to enjoy your presence once a month. And the worst of it was, whenever you finally did show your pretty face, there never was an explanation as to why you were gone from him for so long. With a wave of your hand, you would brush it aside, as if starving him of your companionship was nothing to be of worry, as you approached his throne. 

Truly, when all was said and done, this was all your own doing. 

Hitoshi simply could not have you vanish like the silver mist that enveloped his throne, he doubted he could survive if you did. So, he just had to make things a little bit worse for you; to slowly deprive you of more and more sleep. And the times he would gift you with slumber, they would be filled with dreams unpleasant and cruel.

He just had to have you crawl back to him, to stay with him. He simply had to.

~

It wasn’t as if you did not want to visit Hitoshi, you wished with every fiber of your being that you could; you really did. You enjoyed the time spent with him, both he and Tamaki were very kind and always sought to make you comfortable - never to leave you bored or feeling unwanted. Unfortunately, someone else decided for you that visiting was no longer to be.

Hanta had a renewed interest in you just as you were starting to get comfortable within the God of Sleep’s domain; monopolizing your time more and more, almost unbearably so, with his presence and touch. As if he was making up for lost time, doing his best to renew the interest he once captured so easily. Though he claimed otherwise, you knew that his actions were simply made from jealousy; he wanted you to be his pet, whom he called upon at any moment, to give your utter devotion to. Now your devotion seemed to be turned elsewhere, and his pride simply could not have it. 

He couldn’t keep hold of you at all times; duties had to be done, and other men and women needed to be blessed by his presence and touch. Only then were you able to slip away from his hold to visit the Underworld. Though every time you entered, you felt more and more ashamed of who you were, about the marks that were left upon your skin, and the reasons you could not see Hitoshi more frequently. Embarrassment always filled your being when you felt the Sleep God’s eyes upon you, taking in your dishevelled and messy form, knowing you were a sore sight to see; and you could never find the strength to confide in him as to the reasons why.

You simply wished to forget all that transpired while away, even if for a moment.

That moment of levity would simply be that; a moment. For once you returned to the clouds above, Hanta would be waiting for you; wings twitching in agitation as the scowl upon his beautiful face would cause you to shrink in fear. Anger, agitation, would fill his being at your deliberate disobeying of his rule to stay where you were until he was to return; dragging you to the bed you shared. Though you tried to plead with him that it wasn’t nearly anything his mind could conjure up, that he need not be so harsh with you, it never sunk into him - merely falling onto deaf ears. Despite protesting thus, he would bend you at the waist, pinning you to the silk sheets so you could not move, or fight him, before he would fill you with his cock; ignoring your squeals of pain as he stretched you completely. To slap his hand upon your skin until your skin was red and raw as he teethed marked you with the last mementos of his lovemaking. Actions never ceased until your voice became hoarse from the pleasured screams, and your body became limp with his marks of strength; making it clear to any gods nearby that you were his.

After which, the vicious cycle would continue.

Moreover, to add insult to the injury you were currently plagued with, you could not find a sense of slumber; a moment of rest and the peace that paired with it. Oh, how you wished you did, you wished for a moment of sanctuary from the torture you were in, and yet it never came. Always just slipping past your fingertips, like mist in a dense fog. Hanta and his insatiability, much like when he first claimed you for his own, took from your body and sense of strength and repose needed to even sit up. It left you ragged and begging to melt into the clouds that surrounded you; chanting silently to the God realms away to grant you what you desired most. A reprieve from this world, no matter how small it was to be. But once you felt it ebb at the corners of your consciousness, Hanta would ultimately rouse you to continue his ravishings.

The fair few times you could allow yourself to sink into the inky abyss of slumber, your being finally being so worn down it had no choice but to relent to it, the dreams within it would be far more cruel than the fate currently abusing you. Dreams so conniving and hurtful, of fears locked so far away, that you not help but wake with tears in your eyes; whimpering and wailing sobs into the vastness of the heavens around you. With your cries growing more intense when you found your only comfort against all this pain and suffering was Hanta and his touch; one that would ultimately lead to salacious things.

You began to resent him. His voice, his touch, his presence even remotely near you. You wished he had never caught sight of you, never gave you all those gifts, and most important of all, never brought you here to the heavens. As the days passed you felt stuck in an endless cycle of hell, one seemingly by his own hand. You were once so exuberant, full of life and wonder, and now you could feel yourself wasting away into nothing. No longer able to skip and frolic into fields of flowers or clouds, your body was too weak; barely even able to lift your arm to grab hold of anything. Your eyes, ones that were bright and filled with wonder as they looked upon the many majesties of the world, could barely be forced to open; a stinging pain would follow as any glimmer of light would cause you pain. And your head. Your poor head that would read and listen to the stories of old, now suffered from severe throbbing pain as your mind pulsed against your skull - trying to free itself from the prison it found itself in.

You could not escape it, nor Hanta - especially after he had taken the golden bell gifted to you as his own. Your life seemed to be regaled to misery as you lived every waking moment in pain. You wished that death could find you and turn you into an everlasting rose, then be subjected to spend more time with him; the cause of all the suffering.

Hanta could sense it all too. The indignation that filled your very being and thus cast forth onto him. He became less patient with you, his temper flaring considerably as he found your irritability insufferable; finding your whining and aversion to his help a scornful cross he felt he had not deserved, not after all he had done for you. The rage within him would burn even brighter whenever you would implore him to allow you to see the God of Sleep, to ask for his aid in the matter that had been plaguing you instead of him. Bitterness filled him over being replaced by a God lesser than him; for being a fool to allow you the freedom to visit that domain and become dependent on someone other than him.

“Hanta, please!” You wept, palms coming to press against your eyes to relieve some of the unbearable pressure behind them. “I cannot keep going like this. Can’t you see that I am in pain? That I am suffering?”

You removed your hands from your eyes, your feeble attempt to try and soothe the pain found in your body futile, having them fall into your lap in defeat. You looked over at him, back turned to you, as he tried to ignore your wails once more in favour of sharpening the many golden arrows he possessed. 

“I thought you loved me!” You called out again, trying in vain once more to garner his attention, the declaration working as you saw his shoulders tense.

“I do love you.” Hanta began, turning to give a look of scorn when you tried to argue otherwise “But it is clear that your reliance on another God caused you this misery. If you stayed here, and allowed me to take care of you, you would not have found yourself in such a state.”

“Take care of me?” You huffed out a laugh in scorn, hands balling into fists over his claims “You left me here. Abandoned me once I no longer suited your fancy, with no food, drink, or company. Alone is a place where I did not belong! How could you blame me for wanting to be cared for!”

“You could have asked for more!” Hanta stood, his wings twitched as he did his best to control the fury bubbling within him “Have I not given you everything? Have I not provided you splendor that no other creature, mortal or otherwise, could have dreamed? Have I not carved out of the heavens a home for you? You are acting like a petulant child, one that has been so spoiled that they cannot find it within themselves to have an ounce of gratefulness or gratitude.”

You could not help yourself, could not fight the urge otherwise. How could he claim all those things about you, to compare you to a mollycoddled child, when he was the one that would abandon anything once he got bored. To pin the pain you are under as something of your own fault, and not bother to care about trying to lessen the burden.

“I hate you.”

The words slithered out in a vengeful hiss, marking them as true and honest as you looked away from him in scorn; finding yourself so disgusted by him that you wished not to acknowledge his presence. You had never said those words before, never been pushed to think that way of anyone, even the nymphs that casted you out. Yet, you felt the need to let that be known and you sat and seethed.

You did regret those words after you spoke them, finding a moment of levity as your mind cleared from the anger and pain it had been placed under. Though it was too late. A final straw had been broken, after weeks of being placed under the pressure of a bend, within Hanta.

He marched towards you, to where you sat so pitifully, to take hold of your arm; not bothering to care over the cry of pain he inflicted as he dragged you to your feet to follow him to the edge of the heavenly clouds that you called home. Bringing forth the golden bell from his tunic to hold it menacingly over the border that kept the Gods in the heavens, and the mortals within the earth.

“Apologize at once.” He demanded, tugging you even closer to him to cease your struggling against his hold “Say that you are sorry or I will drop it.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I had not meant to say! Please Hanta, believe me! I could never hate you! Don’t do this!” You begged, falling to your knees as you clung to his waist

But despite obeying, despite always doing what he said like the sweet-natured nymph you were, it did not matter. In a moment of vexation, a moment to showcase his power over you, Hanta still did not relent (as he always did to your cries) as his fingers let slip the golden bell. Allowing it to sink away for all eternity.

You collapsed in a heap, fingers digging deeply into the cloud below you, as you wept and sobbed; despite the pounding in your head telling you to stop, you couldn’t. Your one saving grace, the one thing that brought a semblance of happiness to you in this realm was gone. And with that revelation came the doubt that you would ever see your sister again nor get a decent night’s rest until the end of time - or until your ultimate banishment from here, whenever that mercy may come.

You couldn’t help but kick and scream when you felt Hanta’s arm wrap around you as he picked you up from the ground. Using the last morsels of strength within you to try and fight him off and away, for his touch was the last thing you ever wanted upon your skin.

But what was the strength of a nymph when compared to a God? 

He laid you in bed, and though he tried to join you, to hold you close and whisper those sweet nothings in your ear as he knew you used to love, you kept pushing him away. Instead choosing to curl up into a tight ball and weep until sleep ultimately took your anguished form. All Hanta could do was watch as guilt gnawed at him - latching onto his soul like roots of a tree that took purchase into the earth - as he reaped what he had sown. 

~

The anguish you felt is what finally caught Hitoshi’s attention towards you and your ever-growing plight, for it had seeped through into your dreams when your body finally tired out from all it had been fighting. He could sense your pain, your sorrow, the distress that filled every ounce of your soul; it caused his breathing to labor as he could not help but panic over what had transpired. He rushed to look into his orb of dreams to search for you and to understand what had transpired for your soul to give up and to become on the verge of death; something impossible for a creature like you to do within the heavens.

You were always surprising him, weren’t you?

He wanted to find a semblance of admiration over you achieving such a feat, but all he could find was fear over the thought of losing you. Your blurry appropriation finally came forth to him within the haze of smoke so familiar to him, blurred lines turned clear as he turned more of his attention towards you; and subsequently, the memory you had gripped so tightly to. That of your precious gift, your golden bell, being taken away from you.

Histoshi wasted not another moment. Summoning forth Tamaki with urgency, as he began to move through his labyrinth hurriedly; meeting the other god at the riverbed to his home. Tamaki could tell from the distressed look within the other God's eyes, that something was amiss.

“Go gather the nymph.” Hitoshi instructed, voice hardened with ice as he tried to keep his composure “And bring her back here to me, as swiftly as you can”

“Has something happened?” The meeker God questioned, worry gathering within his heart as his eyes scanned Hitoshi’s features.

“Go and get her.” Hitoshi reiterated voice hissing at the accidental stalling his friend was causing. “And do so swiftly! Though, be wary of that Love God, for he is watching over her.” 

Without another word, or hesitancy otherwise, Tamaki nodded his head before hastily setting his vessel in motion. There was something wrong, for his oldest friend would not have treated him so coldly, would not be so fearful of a wasted moment. Something had happened to you, and Tamaki feared it was something awful.

Bravery was never something that came naturally to the ferryman, he was far too meek and worried of causing ire from his fellow brothers and sisters; especially those few that lived among him. He felt it course through him as he ascended to the heavens to retrieve you, determination settling within his heart as he made up his mind to bring you to the Underworld for good.

Tamaki was quiet when he approached your little piece of heaven; heading the advice to be wary to ensure a safe recovery of you. Though when he appeared, he found you surprisingly alone. You lay curled up like a baby bird in its nest upon your bed, but he knew it wouldn’t be for long. For the Love God was clearly only absent to gather your items of comfort, and with his powerful wings to swiftly guide him through the air, Tamaki knew it was only a matter of moments before he would return; there was no time to dawdle. 

Gently he scooped you into his arms, taking note to cradle your weak head gently against his chest, as he carried you to his gondola. Setting you upon the bench you so eagerly used to sit upon, he allowed you to rest as he took you back down to the Underworld; to your new home.

~

You awoke, mind filled with a disorienting haze as you tried to recall how you ended up blessed enough to find slumber. To garner a restful enough sleep and avoid the terrors your mind could come up whenever you were in that realm. However, that wonderment of how you could have become so blessed after so agonizingly long was drowned out by confusion as your brows furrowed as it tried to comprehend what this odd weight upon your body was.

It was familiar to you, like an old friend, one soothing and reassuring. Yet at the same time, it did not feel like something you knew. The hand that stroked your hair, and scratched gently upon your scalp in a manner so gentle, was not one that you knew. The arm that held you so tightly to a broad, lithe, chest did not feel at all similar to the one you cuddled up against night after night.

It wasn’t familiar to you, thus you could only assume that you were no longer in the arms of Hanta, but rather someone else. Now that you were in this hold, you were afraid you could never go back to what you were used to. How you preferred the more tender hold of the arms that embraced you, how they held you with your comfort in mind, not to keep you trapped; a hold that you could not help sink deeper within. Finding the soft tunic a welcomed reprieve to warm and bare skin as you clung to it.

Though despite your wanting to sink back into the inky abyss that was the realm of slumber, your mind did not allow it; far too concerned with whoever was holding you. Though it felt nice, something about it still did feel right. Your brows furrowed more so together as you began to push against the embrace, your tired eyes burning as they opened to gain clarity of your situation.

A frightful gasp left your lips as you looked upon a familiar pair of violet eyes, those accompanied by the almost charming dark circles of deprivation. Despite your best efforts to pull away from him, knowing just how irate Hanta would be if he were to catch you with him in such a manner, Hitoshi kept you in place; his arm tightly digging into your sides to keep you against him.

“Hush, and be still little one,” Histoshi shushed you, hand moving from your hair to stroke upon your cheek in a manner meant to calm you further. “Your body is still destitute of slumber, it cannot handle your struggles.”

You relented, body falling more limp within his hold, though you fought the urge to fall back into his chest; wanting answers to the racing questions that ran through your mind as they managed to take precedence over your want of sleep.

“How…. how did I get here?” You finally asked, voice cracking and sore from your wails just hours prior, as you kept your gaze downcast. “From what I can recall, I needed the bell you gifted me to summon Tamaki; one of the few that knew how to get to you”

“As you know,” he began with a sigh, tugging at the ends of your hair in an effort to get your pretty eyes to gaze back at him; disappointed that you wouldn’t relent and do so, “I can feel all the anguish that the mortals are beholden to as they sleep, you are no exception. I felt all your pain and suffering, and I could sense that you were unable to escape the grasp of the Love God. So, I figured the only course of action to end your distress that I could provide was to gather you myself so you may get the rest you sorely needed.”

He watched as you buried the palms of your hands into your eyes gently, trying in vain to allow your muddled mind to come to terms and piece together what he had just said. After a moment of silence, he pulled your hands back down to rest in your lap.

“Are you alright now?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, as he watched you nod your head. Dissatisfied over your lack of response he placed his forefinger under your chin to force your head up to face him. “Are you sure?”

“Y-yes.” 

Your meek response was good enough to appease him as he let go of your face to instead pull you closer within his hold; his hand once more moving your head to place it against the crevice between his neck and shoulder. Hand once more absently played with your hair as he continued to soothe and strived to relax your body.

“Sleep, little one,” he mumbled into your brow, “Stay as you need so you may regain all that you lost. I promise to look over you.”

Instead of gratitude, instead of your body falling heed to his request, he felt your body shake as you silently sobbed. You wished you could allow yourself such a sweet reprieve, but you knew better now. Once you garnered enough strength to walk, you would have to be taken back to the heavens once all this was over. If not by the God before you, then by the God you have surely angered and left in a cold bed. You felt Hitoshi move your body to sit upright, his hands resting upon your heated cheeks as he attempted to dry them from your ever-falling tears. 

“Why are you upset, my darling one?” He asked, searching your eyes for a response, only to find you closing them and looking away.

“If I do stay, if I do as you ask of me and regain my strength and rest, it will not matter.” You blubbered, shaking your head to rid yourself of his grasp on your face.

“And why do you say that?”

“After I do, I will have to return back to Hanta. And I do not want to suffer the false hope that will befall me if I stay, for once I go back I will suffer as I had before. Sleepless and filled with horrid visions!”

Hitoshi did his best to hide the smile that was yearning to break free. He found he was grateful this one time that your glossy eyes would not look at him. Here you were, like a child, in his lap as you wept over the fear of another bad dream that may fall upon you again. It was clear your state of mind had been broken, that your resolve had been shattered, and now you were at the mercy of him and his plan; thus now he could finally strike. 

“Who has declared that you must go back?” He whispered as he kissed the crown of your head to soothe you further. “You could just stay here with me, you will never have to worry about sleep and nightmares again. And your sister, I’m sure she missed you.”

With the mention of your sister, you finally looked up at him, your sobbing quieted down as you hiccuped your response. “Y-you w-would let me stay...?”

“I would.” He nodded his affirmation alongside his words, ensuring you would believe him. “And you may visit your sister as often as your heart desires, to wander the Underworld and beholden to their treasures whenever you please. You would just have to keep me company whenever I request it.”

“And Hanta? W-what of him?”

“You would never have to worry about being taken away from him if you did not want. Wherever silver mist gathers, especially within the archways of this domain, he cannot enter nor breakthrough. He may charge his way here, but he will never be allowed to enter my throne.”

You took a moment to gaze upon the familiar archway you had walked through countless times, watching as the silver smoke twirled languishingly amongst itself as if it had a mind of its own. It brought back the memory of when you first came here, how Hanta pushed you to make the journey to the God of Sleep alone. It was not done to test your bravery, but rather for the reason Hitoshi claimed; he was not welcomed here and therefore could not follow you.

It all made sense why Hanata hated that you would visit Hitoshi, for he could not keep an eye on you. He could not control you and whatever you did while here.

Now you were presented with an offer. A tempting one that promised you everything you had been deprived of while you were up in the heavens; to be taken care of fully. To be able to enjoy the spoils found here, to sleep, and to see your sister. Your exhausted mind could not help but agree that his terms and conditions to be his companion within the Underworld was a far better offer than what you were granted within the Heavens.

“I’ll stay…” You murmured out, as you allowed your body to fall limp into his arms in acceptance. “...I’ll stay.”

“Good, now rest little one, you are safe now.”

Hitoshi was unable to cease holding back the triumphant smile that wished to come forth, relenting to it as it spread across his beautiful face in an almost sinister manner before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. He had won, and now he was hoping to reap the rewards he waited so patiently for; grinning more widely as he heard a whine slip passed your lips, the sound going straight to his cock as he shifted you within his lap.

“What is the matter now?” He muttered into your brow, pressing another kiss there as he watched you squirm.

“I can’t sleep...!” You murmured out, clearly exasperated over your mind telling you of desires that you wanted while your body continued to betray you.

“Never fear of things such as that my darling.” His kiss slowly descended down your face before they paused at your lips; brushing against them in a manner much like a butterfly’s kiss. “I can help you, you need only ask me to do so.”

“Please help me Hitoshi…” You breathed out as you clung to his tunic once more.

He knew you were ready to plead further to him, he could hear the hitch in your voice as you made an attempt to do so. But he could not wait any longer, not after all the work he placed into his efforts, nor after hearing you consent to him; even if he desired to hear you beg for him further. His lips pressed against you in a kiss he has waited far too long to enjoy.

But greed swiftly appeared and possessed him, taking his kisses from sweet and small - tiny pecks to showcase his love and adoration for you - to ones more consuming as he melded your lips into his; not caring about breathing more so the want to feel your lips against his. His hand came to hold your jaw in place, craning your neck upward so that he may deepen the kiss to his desire.

It was not harsh, nor hurried, as one would expect from being consumed by the throws of passion and lust; especially the kind that had been suppressed for so long. Hitoshi could not recall in most recent memory, or memory long passed, ever having a lover by his side. And now that he had you, now that he finally had you here, he wished to engulf you completely and enjoy what the Gods above have denied him.

His motions were languid as he continued to hold your lips against his, he relished in how pillowy they felt as he continued to suck and smack upon them; not bothering to care of your whimpers of discomfort over how lewd the sounds had become, or how the mixture of saliva would drip down your chin. He still refused to relent as he found himself possessed over you and this feeling of domination. He slipped forth his tongue into your pliant and sweet mouth; how he delighted in the way your strength left you and caused you to go limp within his hold. 

With the knowledge that you would not fight against him further, rather allowing yourself to succumb to him and his desires instead, his hands began to roam your body; no longer afraid of angering you and your possible attempts to fight otherwise.

You couldn't say that you did not enjoy it. 

The unhurried, leisurely manner in which Hitoshi was making love to you was a far cry from the throws of quickened and almost brutal passion that you had grown used to. Such a contrast made your head dizzy and lightheaded as you allowed the God before you to do as he pleased; yet uncertainty filled the distant corners of your mind, how the ebbed and flowed almost as a warning bell, as you wondered if your body was going pliant to his advances due to your own building want or if he somehow placed you in a dream-like trance.

Regardless, you still found yourself in bliss as your hands began to roam themselves; how they gripped and tugged at his tunic as you allowed your voice to be heard. The small noise of pleasure did nothing more than spur Hitoshi on as his lips began to drag from your own and down to your jaw. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you heard his groan of delight when your hands found purchase underneath his tunic. The contrast of your warm hands against his cool and bare chest was a wondrous thing, one that made the both of you flush deeper in heat.

Though, after a while, it was not enough. Your mind still pounded against your skull, a brutal reminder that you needed slumber, and despite Hitoshi’s claims that he could bring that forth to you, he had so far made ill on that promise.

“Hitoshi…” You whimpered out, voice strained as you found it difficult to even speak in your current state.

“Yes, my darling?” Hitoshi mumbled into the skin just below your jaw as he placed a kiss there to try and encourage you to speak more.

It did not work, all he was met with was your continuous stream of discomforted whimpers; the way your brows pinched and furrowed in displeasure was a clear sign to him that he must move faster if he wished to come true with his promise and grant you the sleep you requested.

He tugged at your dress, being mindful of how precious the silk must be for you and thus not wanting to ruin it. Using a tender hand to glide the fabric of your sleeves down your arms to your wrists to allow the material of your bodice to slip under your ribs; effectively it released your breasts and allowed him to gaze in hunger at your chest; his cock stirring as he watched your nipples harden when greeted with the cold air of his home.

He wasted no time, like a man possessed, to trail his lips over your newly exposed, supple flesh. The softness he found caused his cock to twitch harshly as he took the time to kiss up and down the valley between your breasts, as he inhaled the scent of your skin; committing it to memory should he never have the chance to have you like this once more. His dexterous hands began to roll and squeeze at your mounds, biting his lip as he watched the flesh shake in a tantalizing manner before he slipped one of your hardened nipples into his awaiting mouth; his tongue circling around it as he sucked gently upon it. 

Hitoshi wanted nothing more than to garner more noises of pleasure from you as he absently rocked his hips against yours, and groaned into your skin. His other hand undertook the task to play with your skirts, to work in a quickened manner while you were too preoccupied from his mouth to question him as he dragged them up and over your hips so he may have access to your most sacred place; your sweet cunt. 

His teeth, though blunt, left a stinging pain in their wake as he marred and nipped at your supple flesh. It caused your eyes to shoot open as you looked down upon him, his lavender eyes were filled with a lustful haze as they connected with yours; it made your body shudder in his hold as you whined at his cruel action. You could feel him smile upon your skin as he laved over your newly found mark with his tongue.

“Stay awake for just a little longer, my darling,” he cooed, nipping at your skin once more to hear you call out his name in that adorable whine he was starting to love. “That’s it, look at me, keep your eyes open and on me, alright?”

“I-it hurts…!” You jerked your body away from his pinching teeth, your mewl of displeasure following suit.

“Keep looking at me, and do not fall into the grips of dozing.” Hitoshi muttered, pressing a few kisses over the red marks he had given you. “And I promise you that it shall not hurt anymore.”

His deft fingers found your cunt,  spreading your folds open so he may be able to gently pet and coax out further pleasure from your body; to showcase to you that he meant as he said. His middle finger explored, dipping briefly into your leaking entrance, before slowly stroking your little bundle of nerves; groaning at how violently your hips bucked over his slow and deliberate act, how they seemed to follow his hand, greedy for more of his sinful touch. 

Despite his desires otherwise, how he wished to rub harshly upon your puffy clit to hear you wail and cry out for him as you became overwhelmed with ecstasy, he knew you were not restive enough for such a thing. As well, he wanted nothing more than to see your pretty eyes, half-lidded with lust for him, to stay focused upon him. 

He continued his tortuous petting, whispering his fingertips upon your clit but never pressed down before they swiftly moved to poke at your fluttering hole; all the while he smirked into your chest as heard your panting breath. A guttural groan left his parted lips as he finally relented and sunk a finger into you; relishing in your keen of pleasure as your hand came to tug upon his wild mane of violet locks.

You pulled him closer once he breached your weeping cunt, mewling quietly in delight at his skillful and gently petting; though you found that it wasn’t enough. The burning ache of need deep within your core was calling out for release, it heightened the pining to find slumber, as your hips moved against his hand in urgency for him to grant you something more. Your fingernails dug into the skin of his chest and dragged them down toward his hips; it left an angry trail of red in their wake, as your other hand tugged harshly on his mane once more. Calling out his name in a prolonged whine of frustration, not caring over this hiss of pain that sucked through his teeth.

“Getting impatient, are we?” Hitoshi growled, nipping at your neck to feel your yelp beneath his tongue.

“Y-you promised!” You wailed, hands moved to grip his shoulders as you felt his fingers spread within you.

“To not hurt you, indeed I did.” Hitoshi teased, leaning his head back to enjoy the blissful looks upon your face. “Do you not feel good, darling?”

“N-no!” You shook your head before you cried out his name, unable to finish your thought before being lost to the pleasure he brought forth.

“No?” He teased, slowing his fingers until they barely moved within you, chuckling at your bucking hips as you attempted to gain back the stimulation you craved. “Well, my darling, your body is telling me something different.”

If you were more awake, you would feel the heat of embarrassment taking over the flush of desire upon your skin, though at the moment you could not seem to care about decency; your desire to follow through and ultimately find and form of reprieve to your aching body.

“No, you promised to guide me to sleep.” You stuttered out, finally being able to find your voice now that his actions upon your body subsided. “And you’re prolonging that now.”

Hitoshi hummed, stifling another laugh over your petulant state, as his lips kissed upwards your neck and jaw before meeting their intended destination; kissing you languidly like before to placate your rigid state.

“Apologies,” he murmured, breath mingled with yours as he allowed you a chance to catch it. “I was merely just preparing you appropriately so you take my cock with ease. Though you are right; you have waited long enough.”

You squirmed at his words, finding a sense of awkwardness in how crude yet honest, not something you were yet used to from him, as you gripped tightly to the fabric at his shoulders when you felt his fingers leave your cunt; kissing your teeth in a quiet hiss as you feel yourself tighten around nothing.

“Go on now,” Hitoshi whispered, leaning so his back may sit flush against his silver throne, a smirk tugging at his lips. “If you so wish for relief so badly then you may take my cock out to have it.”

He admired the way you so timidly nodded your head at his request before your hands, one filled with trepidation, shook as they lowered to where they needed to be. He felt how gingerly you worked as you adjusted and shifted his robes to unbound his hardened member; he groaned in relief once he felt you delicately free his leaking cock.

If you were not so in need of him at the moment, he would ask you to stroke him; to pump your hand up and down his length until he guided you toward his own euphoria. He supposed he now had more than enough time for such salaciousness at a later date. Instead, he grabbed your waist as he pulled you to sit higher, hovering you over him as he properly aligned himself against your heated core.

Slowly, agonizingly so, he guided your hips downward to impale yourself on him; pressing his lips to yours to shush the aching whimpers that tumbled forth as you felt yourself being stretched to your limit by him; and though you had experience with Hanta, his cock was far thicker than you were ever used to. Hitoshi muttered your praises, telling you of how well you were doing as he slowly filled you full of him.

“You’re doing so well.” He groaned out, teeth gritted as his jaw clamped tightly shut as he did his best not to spill his load into you before he barely had begun to have his fun. “You’re so close, almost there my darling.”

He could tell why Hanta was so fond of you, so unwilling to let you venture off on your own and out of his sight. Your cunt was truly heavenly as it swallowed his cock greedily, already spasming and milking him for what he was worth. He let out a strangled breath, a mixture of a moan and a sigh, once you were fully seated; taking note of your discomfort once more, he rocked your hips back and forth in a lazy, slow, manner until your brows became unpinched and your huffs turned to sighs of pleasure.

“That’s it, good girl…” He sighed out once you took control and swayed your hips on your own, hands glided to your waist to help lift your hips to bounce upward upon him; showcasing to you the gentle rhythm he wanted you to ride him. 

“L-like this?” You asked, as you placed your hands in a more steady position upon his chest as you rolled your hips to glide him in and out of your heat; moaning alongside him when you hit a particularly tender spot within you.

“Fuck yes.” He groaned as he threw his head back for but a moment to relish fully in the euphoric feeling of your tight, dripping, hole.

His hands began to wander again as the slow and unhurried lovemaking progressed. Fingertips took hold and dug into your supple flesh anywhere he could, from the plush of your beautiful thighs, to pinching at your waist, to massaging and groping your breasts. Hitoshi had to distract himself from his more primal urges, to find a use for his body to ensure that his hips didn’t snap up into you. For he was aware of what your exhausted body needed, and that was not being rough.

You cried out sharply when you felt his hand make swift contact with your backside, your supple cheek radiating heat from the pain, as your eyes snapped back onto him; tears formed in your lashes as you blubbered out “what did I do wrong?”

Hitoshi did feel a little guilty, your sad eyes were not something he wished to see, but it was a far better cry than how they drooped just moments prior. His fingers brushed over the sore flesh, as he pressed more soft kisses to your jaw as a way of an apology; taking hold of it, in his other hand, after the peppering of affection

“Look at me, my flower.” He whispered, brows furrowing as he felt you tighten around him. “I need you to look at me, alright?”

You nodded in affirmation to his request with a sniffle, tears still formed upon your lash as you continued to rock your hips against his own; the pleasure overwhelmed you as repeatedly hit the small spongy button within you that made you feel dizzy. Matched that with the fabric of his tunic that caught your clit every time you moved made stars dance across your eyes. It caused you to ascend to your release far quicker than you ever thought possible, as your mewls and babbles of “more” filled the air.

He could tell you were close, given how your walls clamped sporadically around him while you gushed and leaked down onto his thighs. His quiet moans of pleasure melded with your own as he hugged your body tightly against his, as his hips bucked into your own; taking control over you in that primal manner he wished to suppress but could not any longer.

His grip tightened the harsher his hips snapped into you, his heavy cock bullying its way into you to perpetually hit that special spot that made you breathless and squirm within his hold. He was so close to letting go, but he could not do so before you, for he wished for nothing more than to feel your sweet cunt around him as you came.

Your eyes shut tightly as your body seized and gave into the surmounting pleasure and pressure in your core. You wailed out, as those waves crashed into you over and over; your eyes rolled back into your skull as white danced across your vision before you felt yourself go limp against him.

Hitoshi felt your breath against his nape as he held your shaking body against him as he continued to chase his own high. He could tell you were doing your best to stay awake, but how could you? After all, you had climbed a mountain of pleasure before jumping down from it, not even the most powerful of Gods could sway from exhaustion from something such as that.

Yet, despite being stuck between the realm of awake and napping, he could still feel your warm walls clenching in response to his bucking hips. With the knowledge that despite you not being awake you were still reacting to him, your body still obeyed him in some fashion, causing his teeth to clench as he hissed out a final breath before he spilled inside you; filling your pussy completely with his cum.

Hitoshi took a moment to hold your body flush against him as clambered down from his high; placing kisses upon your brow and temple in a prolonged manner to showcase to you his appreciation. He shifted your body to lay more comfortably against his chest once the mood suited him, staying buried deep inside you to ensure that when you woke you would still be filled with his cum, as his hands ran up and down your tired body in a soothing and loving manner.  

“There’s a good little flower,” Hitoshi muttered into your hair, pressing a final kiss to your crown, as he pulled you higher in his hold as he admired your sleeping form. “I’ll take much better care of you than he ever will.”

stay tuned for more~

[drmaqazi]

SURAH AR-RAHMAN, A MIRACLE

The miraculous healing powers of SURAH AR-RAHMAN

Ignorant attitudes, discontentment, Restlessness, dejection and dissatisfaction, such acts, generate completely the most negative approaches, which create differences among the body and the soul. At this stage, neither the medicine can cure this evil or disease nor any intellect, only with the blessing and mercy of Allah Subhanahu wa Ta'ala, we can get the real and complete cure. But first of all, we have to realize our status and we have to think deeply into our hearts. 

We have to analyze our sins, make strong repentance and then extend apology. ‘Allah Subhanahu wa Ta'ala' is the Most Merciful and Compassionate to his servants. When we apologize on our sins ‘Allah Subhanahu wa Ta'ala' will surely forgives us, but we have to apology with true hearts.

 Healing Power of Surah ar-Rahman is a fact. Surah ar-Rahman is the solution for all problems or diseases including depression, hypertension, diabetes and cancer. Ever since the creation of mankind, ages after ages, different mode to heal the ailing people had been in practice. But one mode of therapy remained alive in all ages and for all groups and segments whether it was in ancient times or the present-day modern age. This is spiritual therapy.

 For the followers of the Holy Prophet Muhammad (SallAllahu ‘alaihi wa Sallam) and the Holy Qur’an, this mode is equally believed and trusted in modern age as in ancient times. One could not ignore the miraculous healing potential of the Holy Quran. 'It is not the Surah ar-Rahman alone but there are other Ayah-e-Shifaa. If we talk of Surah-e-Fatiha, it has been described as Surah-e-Shifaa. There are also five (5) Ayaat called as Ayah-e-Shifa.'

 The Holy Qur’an itself states that it has healing tendency for ailments and those researching in this divine book always came out with a different set of healing aspects to treat different diseases. Allah Almighty says in the Holy Qur’an, 'And we sent down Holy Qur’an, which is a healing and mercy to the believers'. Although whole of this Holy Book has a healing impact, some of its Surahs have more healing tendency if recited or listened in a scheme. Surah ar-Rahman is one of those valuable Surahs or Verses (Ayaat) that provide a remedy to ailing believers.

 Healing Power of Surah ar-Rahman is a fact. People suffering from any physical, mental, spiritual disease, they should listen Surah ar-Rahman recited by Qaari Abdul Basit Almisri (Without translation) 3 times daily for seven (7) consecutive days without skipping a day. They should listen to the Surah ar-Rahman with closed eyes. After listening to Surah ar-Rahman, take a glass of water, say 'Allah' three times in your heart with closed eyes and drink the water with three (3) sips. Surah  ar-Rahman has been proven to be the best therapy for countless patients, who had recovered from a number of deadly and complicated diseases with its long-lasting and powerful spiritual impact.

 Scientists and researchers across the globe are working to find out medicaments of different yet mysterious diseases, but they could not succeed to triumph over the entire mini-universe of the human body yet. Therefore, along with Allopathic, Ayurvedic Homeopathic, Psychological and Greek ways of cure, spiritual remedies are also being opted for treatment of complicated diseases. The rhythmic Verses of Surah ar-Rahman had magical impact on the entire human biology as it provides internal peace to human heart, mind and soul for bringing unity to the function of the body.

 It also activates the cognitive faculties and belief system to get the patient emotionally connected to the Creator of the universe. Thus it fills the soul with delightful feelings and mind with positive energy for bringing ultimate meaning to human life. The Holy Prophet Hazrat Muhammad (SallAllahu ‘alaihi wa Sallam), the Last Messenger of Allah Almighty said, “everything has adoration and the adoration of the Holy Quran is Surah ar-Rahman.”

 This great Surah has three (3) portions including the first one where Allah Almighty reveals about His creation till this portion reaches the Verse 'All on earth has to end.' In the second portion, there is discussion about punishment to infidels (Kuffaar) and in the third portion the Creator talks about bounties to be showered on true believers in Jannah. Its beauty is hidden in its verse where Allah Almighty repeats again and again, 'O which of your Lord's bounties shall you deny?' This same Verse (Ayat) is repeated thirty-one (3) times in the Seventy-eight (78)-ayat Surah.

 ________________________________________________________

25 BENEFITS OF SURAH AR-AR-RAHMAN (MIRACULOUS HEALING)

In addition to these great advantages, there’s also peace inside, so if you are concerned about keeping safe, read Surah ar Rehman every day because its protection lies within itself.

Wards off the evil eye:

Surah ar Rahman, which has a large number of blessings and benefits of Surah ar-Rahman of the Holy Qur’an-"Whoever recited Surah ar Rahman after every Prayer, he will be free from worry, grief, and melancholy.”

If a person wants to gain this tranquillity in his life, he should recite Surah ar Rahman daily after ‘Isha Prayers.

In the same way, if you want your child’s behavior to improve or want other people’s love towards them to increase, then you should recite beautiful Surah, ar Rahman, daily before going to bed.”

2. Surah ar-Rahman was revealed as advice for humanity:

Surah ar-Rahman is a wonderful Chapter from Allah’s Book, Holy Qur’an and was revealed as advice for humanity: “Alhamdulillah, we praise Allah (Subhanahu wa Ta’ala) and pray for peace and blessings on the Holy Prophet (SallAllahu ‘alaihi wa Sallam), who received this great Chapter from Allah (Subhanahu wa Ta’ala).”

3. The Holy Prophet (SallAllahu ‘alaihi wa Sallam) used to recite Surah ar-Rahman when going to bed:

When going to bed, Holy Prophet Muhammad (SallAllahu ‘alaihi wa Sallam) always read Surah ar-Rahman to have a sound sleep that he would not be restless when he went off into slumber.

When a person recites this chapter before sleeping, their mind can have a deep impact, so their heart will remain serene and peaceful at night until morning comes.

4. Best time to read Surah ar Rahman:

If a person faces any fear in their life, this is the best time to read Surah ar-Rahman, and he should immediately recite Surah ar Rahman to feel a surge of strength and courage within.

In the same way, if you want to become fearless in front of your enemy, then recite this surah of the Holy Qur’an before going into a battlefield or any situation where you fear for your safety. This will protect you from all types of dangers and keep you safe from harm’s way.

5. Benefits of Surah ar-Rahman in cures insomnia:

One interesting thing about the benefits of Surah ar-Rahman is that it can cure sleep disorders such as insomnia. If a person has had insomnia due to stress or anxiety in his life, he should recite Surah ar Rahman three times after ‘Asr Prayers from Monday to Thursday, and he will start sleeping well at night, In shaa Allah!

6. Benefits of Surah ar-Rahman is a cure for pain:

Surah ar Rahman benefits, which has been mentioned as a cure for all kinds of diseases in the Holy Qur’an – “If you have any physical or spiritual pain then recite Surah ar Rahman daily before going to bed. Insha Allah, your disease will be cured, and you will feel a surge of strength within just a few days.”

7. Benefits of Surah ar-Rahman for The protector of your home:

Most important benefits of Surah ar-Rahman When reciting Surah ar-Rahman, you should not forget to ask Allah’s protection for your home from evil spirits and every type of disturbance so that peace may prevail in residence. When this Surah is recited in a home, it will become a safe refuge for people from all types of disorders and misfortunes.

8. Benefits of Surah ar-Rahman is a cure for physical pain:

Surah ar Rahman, which was revealed as advice — “This Chapter is very healing and can rid the body of any pain or suffering so recite this great Surah on an empty stomach before going to bed. Insha Allah, your problems will vanish within a few days, and you will start feeling relief from your agony.”

9. Surah ar-Rahman provides internal peace to heart, mind, and soul:

If you want to feel some inner peace, then recite Surah ar Rahman daily after Fajr Prayers. In the same way, if you are in love with someone but cannot express your feelings for this person, then recite Surah ar Rahman before going to bed, and Allah (Subhanahu wa Ta’ala) will help create a special connection between you two people.

10. A person who recites Surah ar-Rahman daily after Maghrib Prayers, will die in the state of purity:

“If any person recites Surah ar Rahman after every Prayer, they will be free from worry, grief, and melancholy.

If a person wants to gain this tranquility in his life, he should recite Surah ar Rahman daily after ‘Isha Prayers. Furthermore, one should recite it on an empty stomach at night before sleeping so that inner peace may be achieved.”

11. Surah ar-Rahman is an antidote for sadness and grief:

Surah ar Rahman, which was revealed as a cure — “A person should recite this great surah to get rid of the feeling of sadness, to rid oneself of distress and grief or other depressing emotions that cause discomfort in one’s life.

If you want to overcome your sorrows, then recite this Surah daily on an empty stomach before going to bed because it will provide you relief from all types of misery.”

12. Surah ar-Rahman provides success in every undertaking:

If you want Allah’s blessings for any work or project, then recite Surah ar-Rahman first thing after Fajr Prayers so that Allah (Subhanahu wa Ta’ala) may grant you His blessings and help.

13. Benefits of Surah ar-Rahman provides victory in battles:

Surah ar Rahman, which was revealed as a cure for all sorts of pain — “If any person recites Surah ar-Rahman before going into battle or while facing an oppressor. Then Allah (Subhanahu wa Ta’ala) will give him the upper hand over the enemy, and he shall return triumphantly from battle with no injuries or problems at all.”

14. Benefits of Surah ar Rahman provides victory in disputes:

When a person is involved in any dispute with his opponent, he should recite Surah ar Rehman immediately after Fajr and Maghrib Prayers. In this way, Allah (Subhanahu wa Ta’ala) will help him gain the upper hand over his enemy, and they will come out victorious from their confrontation with no further problems after that.

15. Memorize for Surah Ar Rahman benefits:

One of the most important benefits of Surah ar Rahman if you can memorize Surah ar-Rahman you can every time and anywhere recite this Surah. The best recitation and memorization of these Verses can be done by heart is to surround oneself when performing Salat (Namaz) five times a day.

When placing your right palm on top of the left wrist when going into Ruku’ position during Prayer, recite each verse three (3) times or more according to one’s capability.

16. Recite Benefits of Surah ar-Rahman when in danger:

If a person is in danger, he should recite Surah ar Rahman and ask Allah (Subhanahu wa Ta’ala) for His protection, and he shall return home safe and sound from his misadventure.

When any person faces an enemy or oppressor, the best thing to do under such circumstances is to recite Surah ar-Rahman and make peace with the opponent.

Because Allah (Subhanahu wa Ta’ala) might bring about friendship between you two people, in this way, there won’t be any reason for fighting anymore.

17. Surah ar-Rahman is effective against sleep deprivation:

In Islam, it is recommended that Muslims get up at night and pray to Allah (Subhanahu wa Ta’ala) to get closer to Him.

If you want to go into this prayer session, then recite Surah ar-Rehman before going to sleep, and Allah (Subhanahu wa Ta’ala) will help you get rid of your sleepiness.

18. Benefits of Surah ar-Rahman’s cure for nightmares:

If a person has bad dreams, he should recite Surah  ar-Rahman before sleeping again because it will act as an antidote against all sorts of bad dreams or nocturnal terrors. If he does not show up in the dream again at night, there is no harm done anyway.

19. Recite Surah ar-Rahman on loved ones who are sick:

When someone you love dearly falls ill, then recite Surah ar-Rehman daily until they recover completely from their illness because this Chapter contains curative Verses that work like magic.

20. Benefits of Surah ar-Rahman is a protective shield:

If recited Surah ar-Rahman daily on an empty stomach, Surah ar-Rahman will be like your own personal guard or protection that will not let anything evil come near you. If you recite this Surah after Fajr and Maghrib Prayers, then there are many great benefits for you in it.

21. Benefits of Surah ar-Rahman brings about inner peace:

If you face any problems, worries, sadness, anxiety, tensions, etc., because of which you feel disturbed inside, then recite Surah ar-Rahman first thing in the morning so that Allah (Subhanahu wa Ta’ala) may bring peace and tranquility within your heart and mind.

This way, your whole day shall pass by peacefully with no issues whatsoever because this Surah shall keep your spirits high and give you comfort.

22. Surah ar-Rahman brings about love:

When you recite Surah ar-Rahman after ‘Isha Prayer, it shall instill great love and affection between husband and wife.

Because it has the power to set things right between them if they face any problems in their relationship. In this way, they shall feel more attached than ever before and live a happy life together despite all odds.

23. Surah ar-Rahman three (3) times recite benefits before sleeping:

Any sadness or depression that one might feel because he feels like he cannot work for whatever reason at all should recite Surah ar-Rahman three (3) times before going to sleep so that darkness shall be dispelled from his life, and he shall feel relaxed and at peace.

24. Recite Surah ar-Rahman to protect yourself:

If you are walking alone outside your house, car, or any other place where it is dark because of which you might fear for your safety, should recite Surah ar-Rahman before entering that dark place so that all evil forces might disappear in the blink of an eye. Nothing bad should happen to you after that.

If you do not like walking down a particular street or want to go somewhere but feel unsafe, then recite Surah ar-Rahman seven (7) times before going out so that Allah (Subhanahu wa Ta’ala) may keep you protected from all sorts of dangers and threats, etc.

25. Benefits of Surah ar-Rahman brings about blessings:

When a person recites Surah ar-Rahman after Fajr and Maghrib Prayers every day, then he shall be blessed with Allah’s Mercy, Forgiveness, Protection, etc., because the whole day shall pass without any issues coming his way whatsoever.

CONCLUSION:

Surah Ar Rahman is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful chapters in the Holy Qur’an. Recitation has multiple health, spiritual and other benefits that come with it.

Above all, we can get unlimited blessings through readily reciting this Holy Scripture, which will assist us no matter what problems life throws at us!

In addition to these great advantages, there’s also peace inside, so if you are concerned about keeping safe, read Surah ar Rahman every day because its protection lies within itself.

REFERENCES:

www.prideofpakistan.com/top-stories-details/Spiritual-Therapy-The-miraculous-healing-powers-of-SURAH-AL-RAHMAN/459.

https://dailytimes.com.pk/943206/spiritual-therapy-miraculous-healing-powers-of-surah-ar-rahman/

thenooraniqaida.com › what-are-the-25 Benefits of Surah ar-Rahman (Miracle Healing) - Noorani Qaida

www.jworldtimes.com › Miraculous Healing Powers of Surah Ar-Rahman - Jehangir's …

www.app.com.pk/features/spiritual-therapy-miraculous-healing-powers-of-surah-ar-rahman-3/

www.urdupoint.com › en › pakistan

www.thefreelibrary.com › Spiritual+Therapy

[elspethdixon]

The prompt for day 1 of Angbang week is actually Seduction and/or Adoration, but for some reason I got it into my head that the first prompt was “Worship.” So I spent several hours last night preparing both a photo set and some Sauron character meta around that theme.

I think the aspect of Sauron as high priest of the dark religion of fallen Númenor is often under-explored.

A lot of people interpret Sauron starting a Morgoth-worshipping cult under Al-Pharazon as entirely about building his own power, or as Sauron using the worship of Morgoth as a way to corrupt the Númenoreans in order to make them follow him, and ditto for the way the orcs are all made to worship first Morgoth and then, eventually Sauron himself. Or, if they’re Angbang shippers, they assume the sacrifices in Númenor were purely an attempt by a grief-stricken Sauron to resurrect/summon/contact Morgoth.

Both of those are equally valid interpretations (and you can easily opt for ?porqoi no los dos? and have Sauron motivated by both desires at once), but I think it would be really interesting for fandom to explore the idea that actually, it was all completely sincere and Sauron literally did worship Melkor as his god. Melkor is a vala, after all, and worshiping one of the Valar as your primary deity rather than Eru Illuvatar isn’t unheard of in Arda -the dwarves worship only Aule. And Melkor isn’t just the greatest of the Valar (from Sauron’s perspective), he’s also a prophet-like figure who “saw through” the hypocrisy of Illuvatar and the other Valar to find his own truth and create his own vision.

Whether you add a romantic element or not (I personally think there was definitely love there, and like to envision Sauron conducting gruesome human sacrifices in Númenor while giving off the same weirdly horny-for-god vibe as those medieval catholic nuns who liked to go on and on about how tasting Christ’s flesh during communion filled them with ecstasy, or that’s embodied in Bernini’s porntastic statue of The ecstasy of Saint Theresa), I’d like to see someone portray Sauron-as-religious-zealot, a Sauron convinced that Melkor’s guidance and influence “saved” him from an existence of blind, mediocre servitude and opened his eyes to the true nature of reality/power/creation. A Sauron who sees Melkor’s defeat and exile within the void as a form of martyrdom, something like an evil Christ-figure, who was persecuted at the ignorant hands of his complacent siblings and on some level sacrificed himself so that Sauron and his other most beloved followers might continue on. A Sauron who wants to conquer all of Arda not simply to rule it or destroy it, but to bring all its peoples into the dark light of the only true Vala, or else slaughter them as offerings to his dark glory.

I think, given the Catholic underpinnings of Tolkien’s cosmology, that a sort of Melkor as warped dark Christ figure/anti-christ (or technically Sauron as antichrist, since he’s the one presenting himself as a helper of mankind in Númenor only to lead people astray, a la the biblical antichrist, in a way that is probably not a coincidence) wouldn’t be that far out there as an interpretation of canon, and honestly, if the otherwise dreadful-sounding Rings of Power series happened to feature religious-zealot!true-believer!Sauron then I’d be willing to forgive them a lot for having a truly different/original take on the Dark Lord that no official adaptation had done yet. (They won’t, though, because if anyone on that show’s creative team was putting any real thought into it, then they’d have thought to get the actor playing Elrond a halfway decent long wig.)

[uwua3]

the perfect egg.

❄️📚 tsukioka tsumugi

summary: how did you like your eggs in the morning?

dedication: sleepy 💤 anon — thank you for teaching me what cooking eggs really means

warnings: ambiguous ending, angst, break-up, food themes, heartbreak

author’s note: i’ve suddenly realized making eggs as a coping mechanism has a much deeper meaning to it than i had originally thought. due to this revelation, have this piece about using eggs as a metaphor for relationships!

word count: 1,126

music: unspoken words – davichi

Tsumugi made more eggs than he should’ve.

There was something about getting it just right. It didn’t matter the style, whether it was a simple sunny side up saying good morning or a traditional French omelette fit for any kitchen, eggs deserved to be made correctly. So, Tsumugi took every free opportunity he had to make an egg.

Over time, Tsumugi had learned quick and easy tips after his experience as an egg connoisseur. Make sure to crack your egg on the flat countertop, not on the edge of the bowl, or else you’ll get egg shell pieces in your food. Don’t over-whisk your eggs and leave them in the bowl for a minute, or else it’ll lose its froth in the pan. Butter your surfaces evenly if the pan isn’t non-stick to prevent the edges from getting stuck. Small things like that were now apart of Tsumugi’s egg routine.

Most times, Tsumugi enjoyed his eggs. They were versatile, tasty, and yummy regardless of how they were prepared. But, sometimes, during moments like these, Tsumugi was reminded he was eating an egg.

They suddenly felt... different, in his mouth. The texture wasn’t pleasant, there wasn’t enough seasoning, and nothing was right. It was this experience that made Tsumugi remember the first time he prepared an egg.

Back then, before Tsumugi became a natural in front of the stove, making every possible egg combination known to mankind, he had never made an egg before. Tsumugi was inexperienced in the kitchen, flinching every time the heat got too high and the fridge closed too loudly. Luckily, he had you, an expert in everything culinary.

“How do you like your eggs in the morning?” Tsumugi once asked, and the rest led to this exact moment. You could make eggs with your eyes closed, and Tsumugi couldn’t help but be impressed by your egg-making skills. Tsumugi watched and watched, but never seemed to quite get the hang of such a simple skill.

You never minded. After all, all you wanted was to teach him how to make the perfect egg. “I won’t be here forever to make you these eggs, Tsumu!” Tsumugi could remember the way your voice sounded over the sizzling oil in the pan that was too big for a beginner. His hands were fumbling all over the place, fingers too clumsy to try flipping an egg, but he still made his way through with your support.

Tsumugi had put you on speaker phone, your voice loud and clear through the empty household. He didn’t feel as alone anymore, not when you were specifically guiding him on how to make the “perfect egg”.

“Of course, you have to season the egg first!” You laughed, breaking him out of his momentary shell as Tsumugi took in the way you cheered him on. With the background noise of going through a multitude of shelves, Tsumugi let out a little “a-ha!” when his hand landed on the hidden salt container and black pepper. You mentioned something about how much better eggs tasted with seasoning, though it’s not like he knew.

Watching the egg suddenly form into its traditional white and yellow shape, Tsumugi proudly showed off his creation over the phone. It didn’t take long before he messed up, pouring way too much salt and having no way of taking it off. He didn’t mind though, not when you laughed so happily and filled his entire home with your lively presence.

Tsumugi remembered how the yolk of the egg resembled the sun, and it looked a little like you. You shined brighter, like the mid afternoon cloudless blue sky. If making eggs made you this happy even if he was making every little mistake possible, Tsumugi didn’t mind making more eggs.

So, Tsumugi made more eggs with you on the phone every time. Sometimes, you came over to see his mess of seasonings displayed inconveniently. To witness his elbows always knocking into the tight corners of his kitchen. To make fun of the way his apron clearly wasn’t bought by him. Either way, eggs somehow became a love language.

I’m thinking of the way you laugh, so I’m making an egg. I want to tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I’ll just flip an egg instead. I miss you, so I’m cooking this egg right now. Anything Tsumugi wanted to say but knew was too much, could be solved by an egg. When words failed, cooking an egg on top of a little stove was comparable.

Tsumugi thought of what it’d be like making an egg for you. Perhaps you would wake up later in the morning, only to see breakfast in bed by your adoring boyfriend. With a side of orange juice, bacon, and pancakes if you liked that type of thing, eggs seemed like a perfect way to cook into the future.

You were always the better cook anyways, so Tsumugi would take care of the eggs and you could help him with everything else. Tsumugi would work to perfect his eggs, in every style, to make sure your lessons on making the “perfect egg” were worth it.

But, even perfect eggs cracked. They fell apart, the yolk broken and whites oozing all over the place. When eggs broke, you could always get new ones. Tsumugi remembered that feeling of running out of eggs, of regretting not going to the grocery store sooner, of losing you, too.

Tsumugi blinked, feeling the egg sit in his mouth as he came back to the present. When Tsumugi spit it out, he stared at the way it was messed up. You would’ve hated this egg, you would’ve thrown it away. Suddenly, Tsumugi hated this egg, too. Even if there was nothing actually wrong with it.

Tsumugi tossed it in the trash, trying his best to avoid thinking too hard about the past. If he could make the perfect egg, would you still be with him? Would things have ended differently if the eggs weren’t cracked and broken? Were there not enough eggs?

Tsumugi took out another carton, set up the pan with the right amount of butter, and adjusted the heat to your liking. He whisked the three eggs carefully, making sure to pour it in right as they were done. The room smelt like memories of you. Tsumugi almost picked up the phone, but stopped himself. He didn’t need to walk on more broken egg shells.

How did you like your eggs, anyways? Tsumugi almost forgot, it had been so long since he had received a lesson about making eggs. Nevertheless, Tsumugi continued cooking, trying to ignore the meaning behind this egg.

I’m sorry we ended up this way, so I made another egg as an apology.

[scarletarosa]

Ninhursag

Mesopotamian goddess of the earth, motherhood, childbirth, fertility, nourishment, agriculture, and vegetation

Ninhursag (also called Damkina or Damgalnuna) is the wife of the god Enki and is known as the Mesopotamian mother of gods and humans. However, in few lesser-known texts, Ninhursag is described as the wife of Shul-pa-e, a minor god associated with the Underworld with whom she bore Asgi, Lisin, and Lil.  

Her name “Ninhursag” means 'Lady of the Sacred Mountain' and comes from the poem Lugale in which Ninurta, the god of war and hunting, defeats the demon Asag and his stone army and builds a mountain with their corpses. Ninurta then dedicates the glory of his victory to his mother, Ninmah ('Magnificent Queen') and renames her as Ninhursag. Other known names of hers are Nintud/Nintur ('Queen of the Birthing Hut'), Makh, Ninmakh, Mamma, Mama, and Aruru. To the Akkadians, she was known as Belet-ili ('Queen of the Gods'). In iconography she is represented by a sign that resembles the Greek symbol Omega, which is often accompanied by a knife; this is thought to represent the uterus and the blade used to cut the umbilical cord, symbolizing Ninhursag's role as mother goddess.

Another of Ninhursag’s early names, Ki or Kishar, identifies her as 'mother earth.' She was often prayed to by mothers in order to care for unborn children and to provide food once they were born. She is also one of the four creating deities with Anu, Enlil, and Enki. Ninhursag is also known as the midwife of the gods, and women would pray to her for assistance during childbirth.

Ninhursag was known as the Great Mother who protected all, both commoners and rulers, and it is said in hymns that the kings of Sumer were "nourished by the milk of Ninhursag". Although she was primarily seen as the protector of women and children, she was also the one who presided over conception, gestation, and birth. Ninhursag also appears in The Atrahasis where she fashions humans out of clay, mixed with the flesh, blood, and intelligence of one of the gods who had sacrificed himself for the creation of mankind. The Atrahasis also titles Enki as the creator of humans, who he decided to assign the task of maintaining the Earth in order to relieve the gods of extra strenuous labour. In this myth, when the great flood is released upon the world by Enlil in order to destroy the disruptive and chaotic humans, all the gods mourn but Ninhursag is specifically mentioned as crying over the death of her children. However, one human, Atrahasis, was saved by Enki in order to convince Enlil that they were worth protecting.

Mythology: In one myth, Enki and Ninhursag, the story of how Enki met the mother goddess is told. In the beginning of the world, it is described that there was a garden of paradise known as Dilmun. This garden was where the first humans were being nurtured until they were ready to leave and roam the Earth. Ninhursag, a young and vibrant goddess, was resting in this sacred garden for the winter after creating life throughout spring and summer. Enki sees her in the garden and falls deeply in love with her. They spend many nights together, and Ninhursag becomes pregnant. She births a daughter whom they name Ninsar ('Lady of Vegetation’) and she is blessed by her mother with abundant growth, causing Ninsar to mature into a woman in just nine days. However, when spring returns, Ninhursag leaves the garden Dilmun and returns to her duties.  

Enki soon becomes lustful towards Ninsar and so proceeds to seduce her and have sex, causing her to become pregnant with a daughter named Ninkurra (the goddess of mountain pastures). Ninkurra develops into a young woman in nine days just as Ninsar did, and Enki again becomes filled with desire and seduces her, causing the birth of a daughter named Uttu (goddess of spiders and weaving [both of clothing and fate]). Enki comes to the young goddess and grants her gifts of food from the garden and she joyously embraces him, allowing him to seduce her as well. Ninhursag later wipes the semen from Uttu’s body and with it, creates eight special plants, which Enki discovers and curiously decides to consume them.

Enki is now deathly ill, causing all the other gods to mourn, but none can heal him and grant him life except for Ninhursag, and she cannot be found. A fox appears, one of Ninhursag's animals, who knows where she is and goes to bring her back. Ninhursag rushes back to Enki's side, draws him close, and places his head against her vagina. She kisses him and asks him where his pain is, and each time he tells her, she draws the pain into her body and gives birth to another deity. The eight gods born were: Abu, god of plants and growth; Nintulla, Lord of Magan and god of copper and precious metals; Ninsitu; goddess of healing and consort of Ninazu; Ninkasi, goddess of beer; Nanshe, goddess of justice and divination; Azimua, goddess of healing and wife of Ningishida of the underworld; Emshag, Lord of Dilmun and god of fertility; and Ninti, 'the Lady of the rib,' who gives life. Enki is healed and repents for his carelessness in eating the plants. Ninhursag forgives him, and they return to their work in creation. This myth helps to show that Ninhursag is greatly powerful since she possesses the ability to bring death upon one of the most potent gods and since it is only she who can grant him back his life.

Personal experiences: Ninhursag is a deeply loving, generous, and motherly goddess who adores all of life; she does not hate any living beings as she views them all as her children. She loves everything no matter how dangerous or ugly it may seem to humans. Ninhursag is deeply saddened though over the state of the Earth and is angry over how humans are treating it and how they no longer respect her either. She weeps often over the planet’s suffering and tries her best to help in nourishing it. Ninhursag is also extremely peaceful and is not vindictive or a fighter, though she does hold great power. She is one of the aspects of Gaia, meaning that the planetary goddess (Gaia) created Ninhursag as one of her personality shards and then gave her free-will. Another of Gaia’s aspects is Demeter, who is extremely similar to Ninhursag, making them almost a complete energy-match. 

Regarding the myth of Enki and Ninhursag, Ninhursag has explained that Enki had not raped any of his children as some have misinterpreted, but that it was wiling sex between them. This was done not only out of desire, but also in order to create new deities by merging their own unique energies. This is something that many gods do, as they view sex differently from how humans see it. Gods view sex as a way to not only be pleasured, but also to create new gods from different combined energies, thus creating specific gods from the right matches. Due to this, many deities have lovers as well as a spouse, and do not view this as strange or as cheating. Additionally, the same thing goes for deities in regards to procreating with their own children, as it is different from it happening among humans and is seen by them as acceptable. 

During the myth when Enki was eating the plants, these were not from his own seed, but represented how Enki often would go around and devour various things during his youth in order to absorb knowledge on it. He did this with plants, animals, and even other deities, before unabsorbing them without harm. However, when he would do this with plants, it would kill them. Enki one day ended up devouring the special plants Ninhursag was growing safely in the garden of Dilmun, which caused them all to die. This greatly angered Ninhursag, who then cursed him to die, but soon calmed down and reverted this curse by healing him. 

Offerings: wine, beer, fresh water, cooked fish, eggs, fruit, tomatoes, peas, spinach, legumes, beetroots, potatoes, carrots, edible mushrooms, vegetarian foods, wheat, seeds, nuts, honey, loaves of bread, butter, parsley, bay leaves, sage, mint, pine resin, mastic resin, vanilla, myrrh, floral perfumes, cicada imagery, bird feathers, bird statuettes, cow horns, cow statuettes, all flowers, yarn, sewing needles, spools of thread, small clocks (not digital), silver bracelets, copper bracelets, all crystals (especially malachite, calcite, red jasper, carnelian, serpentine), Earth Mother statues  

[calpurniawoods]

When Love & Death Embrace

Prelude to Introduction

We live in a world where our selfishness reaches a point of wanting immortality. Something that has been forbidden to us by a God who promises a better life will wait for us in the next life. Yet there are those who deceive the word of God, and chose to live by their own means of rules, unaware that they are only human, and vulnerable to one of God’s greatest creations. Death is a taboo topic in different parts of the world. Every culture deals with their loss differently from the next. When death comes into the lives of people they always seem to forget that the life of their loved one could have not been created if it were for the opposite of death; Love. Truth be told that the opposite of death is considered birth, but even before birth something had to have created that being before it was even brought to this world. Love has to become a factor when creating new life. As society continues to view these two as bitter opposites, there are those few who understand that the beauty in life does not exist in the way a person wants to life their life, but by how it is given to them, and taken.

When Love & Death Embrace

What is the meaning in life if the essence that created it, is affiliated with the being that will end it? Why are we breathed in life, only to have it taken away from us? Can it be that we really aren’t meant to live forever, and death is doing us a favor in stopping what ever suffering we have? Can it really be true that out physical life must end, but our whole being will move on to an even greater life? One where love promises life will never end, and we thank death for this new life? Is Death our mother learning to let go of her precious child called Life? Is our father Love who created us through his seed of care?

When Love looked into the eyes of Death, he did not know what to say. For he had fallen for Deaths large, noir, orbs like a foolish romantic he was. Death was not someone people believed to be beautiful, but in fact she was more than beautiful. In a way, she was almost unreal. Unimaginably perfect, that any man would fall for her look of morbid grace to his death bed. The black hooded robe that everyone spoke about were actually her jet black tousles of wavy hair that ran past her whole body as she walked, framing her thin, pale face and physique. She was dreadfully tall that one could only imagine how long her ebony locks were. The stereotypical scythe that held the reputation of fear was actually just her long walking stick she used because…she was blind…

Love did not know exactly why he found Death so appealing. Maybe it was the way she carried herself. Unable to see the people in front of her, but still able to walk with grace towards those who have met their time. Maybe he was just infatuated with her appearance. He could't help but find her morbid, macabre state…warming. But if Love were questioned what it was he adored about Death the most, he would have said her smile, not missing a beat.

It was in her nature to not display any kind of emotions towards others, yet when he was in her presence she couldn’t help smiling with him. Her small, pouty lips were the only thing that has any color in them. Red, the color of romance and affection; the color of blood and deception. Because that was what she was. Love was okay with that…He heard her laugh once. It was random, and completely unexpected. But ever since that day he’s tried to make her laugh every time they would meet. He would even settle more a small chuckle, as long as he heard it from her. It was haunting, and hollow, but inside he knew she wasn’t empty and she wasn’t haunting. All she needed was love.

The time had come for their reunion. Although they had been together just moments ago, to Love it felt like years had been put between he and Death. He always looked forward to these encounters, yet he still dreaded them. He knew that every time he would meet Death it wouldn’t be for a friendly chat; Death was going to rip his heart out.

Love: It’s nice seeing you again…how long has it been dear? Two weeks maybe? Haha.

Death: It feels more like two hours. Then again what do we know about time…it’s not like I’m a heavenly angel, or God.

Love: …No, you’re not. But then again you aren’t the devil either.

She stayed silent, not sure of how to respond to such a dramatic and confusing comeback from him. He always did this to her. Every time she would lash at herself with the worst of comments, he’d always say the opposite…She didn’t know whether she liked it, or if she was supposed to hate him for it. She didn’t even know if she was supposed to hate anyone at all. Death was always curious about Love’s actions. Ever since they were created he was always this hopeless romantic who was too hopeful in mankind's ability to remain faithful for his own good. He spoke about everything in such a blissful state that Death found herself enchanted by his words from time to time. The optimistic he was compared to her pessimistic. She couldn’t help but wonder if opposites can really attract. Because right now as he stood before her about to die for the infinite time he smiled, and that always pained her to see.

Death: Why do you do this to yourself…why do you let this happen to you every time when you know you can always tell God you’re tired of getting broken every time this happens…why do you let yourself die Love…why do you let the love die?

He smiled at her, and she looked away. Damn him. Damn his bright smile that made everything okay. Why couldn’t he see that it literally hurt her to do this to him…She looked up, because she felt something different. Instead of a bright smile she always felt from him…she was met with broken, tired eyes, and a bittersweet smile.

Love: Nothing is meant to last forever dear, not even us. Thats why…when we have to end it, I always look forward to seeing you again. Even if it took a day, a week, a month, or even years. You and I are inseparatable. We’re made for one another darling.

He closed the distance between them, taking her in a warm embrace. If only she could see his face. His angelic, perfect face. Her white eyes could only see a dark outline of him, but even with that she knew he was beautiful.

Love: God really knew what he was doing when he made us. Opposites by fate, yet destined to be lovers. God’s a pretty good Shakespeare isn’t he? Then again he did create him too.

Death could only laugh at his witty thoughts. For once she realized he was right. They were destined to be lovers, just not always together. She guessed thats what it must be like to be a human too. Not everyone born spends their life with their first love. She sort of thought her situation was like that, but it wasn’t either…With the distance they shared coming to a close, Love couldn’t help but get lost in Deaths large pale eyes. With their faces only inches away Death brought their lips together with her cold, thin hands for life’s most bittersweet kiss.

Love: Until next time, my sweet Death.

Death: Until next time, by everlasting love.

In the event of life’s misfortunes, there will be two things that will always be a part of life. Love and Death. Life cannot be created with the absence of love, nor can death keep the balance without the existence of life. Love will forever continue to create life as long as Death continues to let it go. The two things that people can come to fearing the most are histories tragically, oldest soul mates that can never be. Love will always be understand, and Death will always have to let the love go, and Life will continue to be their children they must learn to set free for a better life.

[carewyncromwell]

HPHM Patronus Analysis

Hey there! So I was inspired to do this largely because I adore symbolism and mythology, and I thought -- why not try to break down the Patronus options we see in the game Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery? Obviously there’s a bit of a formula for receiving each Patronus -- but yeah, what do these specific Patronuses symbolize, and therefore, what could it say about their wielders?

Let’s jump in! Expecto Patronum!

Winged Horse

Winged horses are symbolic of freedom and divinity. The most famous winged horse in mythology is Pegasus, the white winged horse that emerged from the neck stump of the fallen Gordon Medusa, when she was slain by the Greek hero Perseus. That same winged horse was later the steed of the hero Bellerophon when he slew the lethal chimaera and even tried flying all the way to Mount Olympus, home of the gods, which mankind was forbidden to visit. Although historians aren’t entirely sure where the name “Pegasus” originated, one theory posits that it’s derivative of the ancient word pihassas, meaning “lightning.” In Norse mythology, the Valkyrie rode winged horses as they selected souls of those warriors slain in battle who could accompany them to the heavenly Valhalla.

Unicorn

Unicorns are primarily associated with purity and grace -- according to medieval European legends, it’s a beast that could only be tamed by a virgin. Their horns were also purported to have legendary healing qualities, prompting many to sell fake unicorn horns (in truth tusks or horns from other animals, like narwhals and rhinos) at exorbitant prices. Unicorns are often connected to heraldry and therefore nobility. In the United Kingdom specifically, the lion and the unicorn appear on its royal coat of arms, being symbolic of the union between England (the lion) and Scotland (the unicorn). In medieval times, it was also symbolic of chaste love and faithfulness.

White Stallion

White horses symbolize fertility and heroism. In many traditions, they are the steeds of heroes, gods, and saints. In Hinduism, they’re also associated with the sun -- the sun deity Surya even rides in a chariot pulled by white horses. Even by more modern standards, it’s common to imagine a “knight in shining armor” coming to the rescue on the back of a white horse. The white horse’s association with battle, however, can also have darker shades. In the Book of Revelation, one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse -- Conquest -- rides in on a white horse, and in the Norwegian play Rosmersholm, a white horse is a recurring motif representing death.

Cheetah

Cheetahs are the fastest land animal on Earth. Because of this, they’re associated both with speed and with single-minded focus. The most well-known legend about the cheetah centers around the black tear-like markings near their eyes. According to the story, there once was a mother cheetah who had to hunt constantly to provide for her two small cubs. A lazy human hunter noticed how great she was at hunting and decided to steal the cheetah’s defenseless cubs for himself. Upon discovering her children were missing, the poor cheetah mother cried for months on end, to the point that the tears had scarred over into two black marks down either side of her face. Even when the cheetah mother gave birth to new cubs, those cubs bore those same markings, and so has every other cheetah since.

Tiger

Tigers are to east Asian cultures what lions are to European cultures -- the king of beasts. In Mandarin, the character meaning “king” ( 王 ) even resembles a tiger’s stripes. Tigers represent royalty, fearlessness, and wrath.The last trait in particular is referenced in Buddhism, where the tiger appears as one of the Three Senseless Creatures as a symbol of rage. In Korea, the tiger is seen as a guardian creature that can chase away evil spirits and bring good luck. Tigers were also the steeds of several deities in different mythologies, such as the Hindu goddess Durga.

Leopard

Leopards, like lions and tigers, are generally associated with heraldry, as well as wealth, power, and divinity. They were most associated with the Greek god of wine, Dionysus, who both wore leopard skins and frequently rode on the back of a leopard. In one story, two leopards even raced to Dionysus’s rescue after he was kidnapped by pirates. In China, the leopard is often contrasted with the “noble" tiger, being more connected to cruelty and punishment. The Benin Empire often engraved or carved leopards into their belongings and architecture to symbolize royal power, seeing leopards as the king of the forest. Even today many coats of arms belonging to African nations depict leopard iconography.

Hares and Rabbits

In the game, we have three different types of hare/rabbit Patronuses -- Mountain Hare, Spotted Hare and Lop-Eared Rabbit. There isn’t much specific symbolism for the different breeds of hares or rabbits (the two animals’ symbolism in itself tends to be one and the same), so this particular analysis will be much more general.

Rabbits and hares are both symbolic of fertility, spring, and rebirth, and are often associated with the Easter holiday. The hare and rabbit have also been interpreted as tricksters, such as the Hare of Inaba from Japan or (for a more modern example) Beatrix Potter’s character Peter Rabbit. In Jewish folklore, rabbits can be associated with cowardice (likely due to their rather timid nature), but most other cultures see the creatures much more favorably. The Greeks used to give live hares as a token of love to the subject of their affection. In Vietnamese tradition, rabbits are associated with youth and innocence, and in Ojibwe tradition, the Great Rabbit Nanabozho was central to the creation of the earth. Even today, a rabbit’s foot is considered a good luck charm.

[detective-with-one-arm]

God Verse Headcanons

This is last on my checklist for Rachel and I honestly think that’s gonna be it for verses for her. Everyone else still has a bunch I’d like to do.

Rachel

Rachel is the goddess of justice and equity. Her symbol is a scale.

She appears to others in white neutral clothes and is a towering figure.

She wears a blindfold, carries a scepter and a pair of scales.

She represents justice in all its forms and has existed since human civilization properly began, when humans first began to show compassion for one another.

She appears for those that desire justice and fairness. Fair consequences and fair actions and justice for unfair situations and circumstances.

However, she does not appear to those seeking vengeance and claiming it to be justice. While the two can be comorbid in her mind, they are not mutually exclusive and she will not appear to someone who wants vengeance without justice.

She is invoked through the burning of imagery of balance and equilibrium. Many of her symbols and sigils that will call to her reflect this. Ideally, one should burn their summoning on a scale, an equal amount of offerings on either side. Or, splitting the symbols symmetrically and then burning them on each side of the scale.

Her followers seek not only justice, but equality and equity. These align with her beliefs.

When invoked, she will speak in neutral and calm tones that are neither admonishing or proud. She speaks completely with neutrality when she gives council.

She is a goddess who is passive and provides necessary wisdom to her followers and those that pray to her.

Howard

Howard is the god of greed. His symbol is a golden coin.

He is extravagant in how he presents himself, appearing truly like a magnificent god to impress his followers.

Of many gods, his followers are some of the most zealous.

He specializes in the aggrandization of the self, gaining riches, wealth, and adoration for yourself no matter the cost. His followers often summon him to beg him to make them rich or wealthy or powerful.

Yet, he does not simply give them what they want.

No, he doesn’t like to get directly involved.

Instead, Howard tells his followers how they can cultivate their own successes and how they can take from others what’s rightfully theirs. He does not ‘give’ them wealth, but rather he shows them how they can take it and keep it.

In order to summon him, you must give him your most valuable items and offer them to him by placing them in a specially made bowl specifically for the offering and placing it in a burning fire for him to collect.

Serena

Serena is the goddess of vengeance. Her symbol is a two-headed snake.

She appears to others wearing a dress that cascades down and covers her feet, seemingly made of the blood she walks on.

A murder of crows accompanies her wherever she goes and they serve as an ominous presence.

They say that when a murder is watching you intently, the Eyes of Vengeance have already marked your demise.

She is worshipped my those that engage in skullduggery. Ancient assassin’s guilds and criminal empires.

Yet, for some, she is somewhat of a symbol of justice and while in some cases this is true, justice isn’t what she represents.

Serena is undiscerning when it comes to what her followers want from her. She cares not for good or evil. Only reparation for the slighted.

Those that seek her out seek revenge and she will help them do this. Either by giving them council on how best to enact their revenge or by employing her own methods to spill blood or cause irreparable fear.

In order to summon her, one must burn an item or the name that belongs to the person’s object of vengeance smeared in their own blood.

Nathan

Nathan is the god of knowledge and curiosity. His symbol is a spyglass.

Unlike many other gods, Nathan is a simple god. He doesn’t portray himself as something grand or greater than someone. Rather, he is simply a part of human nature. He is part of mankind as they are a part of him.

With every advancement humans make, his realm becomes more and more expansive. Like a large library with new rooms created for every new creation humans make. Observatories, science labs, large zoos, the like.

He appears to others in a coat that seems to hold whatever he needs in the present moment and a pair of glasses that help him see beyond what one appears to be on the surface.

Like others, he’s a passive god. He doesn’t like giving his followers easy answers and appreciates those that do the work to attain knowledge by their own efforts.

However, he won’t simply turn them away if they ask him for something.

Whether he gives you a straight answer or not depends on the nature of the question and whether it will benefit you more to find the answer for yourself or if he would just tell you.

If he does not give you a straight answer, he will answer in vague words almost like a riddle. But, from his jacket, he will give you a clue. A tool or an item that will help you find the answer you seek.

In order to summon him, you must write your question, addressing him and asking for his input, on a piece of parchment and burn it.

[recentanimenews]

ESSAY: How Does My Hero Academia Fit Into Global Superhero Culture?

  In 1989, Batman became the first film to make over $40 million in its opening weekend. In 2002, Spider-Man became the first film to make over $100 million in its opening weekend. In 2007, Spider-Man 3 hit over $150 million. In 2012, The Avengers nabbed over $200 million. And in 2019, Avengers: Endgame got over $350 million. Despite the fact that there have been concerns over “superhero movie fatigue” for literal decades now, it’s a genre that shows no signs of slowing down. As its universes expand on streaming services like Disney+, it’s apparent the age of the cinematic hero might be an indefinitely lengthy one. 

  As Marvel Comics luminary Stan Lee once said: “The pleasure of reading a story and wondering what will come next for the hero is a pleasure that has lasted for centuries and, I think, will always be with us.” In that quote, it seems our destiny is almost sealed — we crave heroes and we crave their stories and we crave their sequels. 

  This is the environment in which My Hero Academia was born.

    My Hero Academia is, first and foremost, a superhero story. One could argue that most narratives of its ilk are superhero tales — anime like Dragon Ball, Naruto, One Piece, and others are full of good guys shutting down malicious attempts at local or world domination — but My Hero Academia embraces the iconography, both thematic and physical, of the superhero in a way that many other stories don’t. In fact, it might be one of the purest explorations of that kind of universe ever in fiction. It’s a world where heroism is practically currency, where roughly 80 percent of the earth’s population is imbued with some kind of inherent genetic power. 

  Populating your superhero story with powerful people instead of going the typical cinematic route of having one or two supernatural characters with a supporting cast of everyday folk might have been subversive 20 years ago. But in the age of the Avengers, where multiple heroes cross in and out of each other's storylines and the narrative objective was to eventually wrangle them all in one mega-movie, My Hero Academia fits comfortably. That doesn’t render it as uninteresting, though. Instead, rather than build to the issues that will inevitably crop up in a world full of Supermen, these themes are inherent in the story.

    As such, most of the plotlines have to do with the idea of rampant heroism and the backlash that it would create. Plenty of superhero films address this (multiple Batman movies make the case that if there were no Batman there would be no Joker), but in My Hero Academia it is a constant struggle. Overhaul, wearing a variation of a 17th-century plague doctor mask, looks at these “Quirks” as if they’re a disease. Stain is against superheroes using their status for fame. Tomura Shigaraki wishes to destroy society as we know it, hating its values and its borderline divine treatment of figures like All-Might. These patterns are not just repeated in My Hero Academia, but inevitable. They are anime embodiments of that “superhero fatigue” article I shared above, except in this case they hurt and destroy in their attempts to find an alternative to the super status quo, rather than write essays in The New York Times.

  It’s certainly an enthralling formula, though: My Hero Academia continues to be a best seller and has won numerous awards. Its anime has been similarly well-received. Despite the fact that superhero films very rarely have the same box office prominence in Japan as they do in America, My Hero Academia has been able to make an impact. That might be because, at its core, My Hero Academia adapts the ethos found in a hero that many Japanese creators really do enjoy: Spider-Man.

    Kohei Horikoshi, My Hero Academia’s creator, loves Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man films. Creator of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Hirohiko Araki gushed over his love of Spider-Man 2 to director Sam Raimi during an interview. Yusuke Murata, illustrator of One-Punch Man, has done some absolutely amazing work when it comes to posters for Peter Parker’s cinematic adventures. Hideo Kojima, a video game designer whose creations are absolutely inspired by anime, called Into The Spider-Verse a “great masterpiece” and was “moved” by Spider-Man 2. After it became the best-selling game to be developed in the West but funded by Sony since 1998, Japanese game developers voted Marvel’s Spider-Man as their 2018 game of the year. So why the embrace of this particular character? 

  Journalist Kuremasa Uno told the Japanese site Business+IT that it’s because Japanese youth are more accustomed to embracing younger heroes. Since so much of Spider-Man’s Hollywood journey deals with him experiencing problems as a teenager and young adult, he fits in among the protagonists of series like Gundam or Naruto. Hideo Kojima even told Famitsu that Spider-Man is “similar to Japanese heroes,” as he has “worries.” 

    The aspect of youth is particularly interesting, as it’s what often renders heroes like Spider-Man to be the most relatable of all of their peers and rivals. In the comic book world, age tends to warp characters, turning them into beacons of impossible standards rather than troubled everymen. We have little in common with the hulking, aging Batman snapping bones in Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns. We are enthralled with the story on a narrative level. Even the legendary curmudgeon of the comic book industry, the supremely talented Alan Moore, found The Dark Knight Returns fascinating because it gave a hero a chance to end, rather than cycle through an eternal series of escapades. If you know Moore’s stance on heroes, that’s high praise, but it’s hard to connect with him no matter how cool he looks taking down the Mutant Leader.

  In youth we find common ground. We all grow up, and for the most part, we all experience that mix of angst, desperation, and uncertainty that comes with finding yourself on a bullet train to adulthood. In my interview with Matt Alt, author of Pure Invention: How Japan’s Pop Culture Conquered The World, the writer/historian affirmed these feelings as especially true in anime: “It doesn’t look at adolescence as a lesser form of adulthood and it doesn’t condescend to the young people experiencing problems.” That is true of My Hero Academia, which treats Midoriya’s teenage problems as valid and worth concern, and is also true to Stan Lee’s affinity for Spider-Man: “He’s the one who’s most like me — nothing ever turns out 100 percent OK; he’s got a lot of problems and he does things wrong, and I can relate to that.”

    So perhaps it is in collecting a cast of characters that, like Spider-Man, are all dealing with youthful problems that Horikoshi found the fantastic formula for My Hero Academia. It’s a world with teachers and Pro Heroes, but there is no real equivalent of a Justice League, no impenetrable class of demi-gods to impart moral lessons on not just younger heroes but the world at large.

  Instead, much like in real-life youth, the characters of My Hero Academia and the class of 1A must discover those lessons for themselves. With that, the reasons for the aforementioned creators’ adoration of films like the Spider-Man trilogy and Into the Spider-Verse seemingly become more clear. Though these films feature a ... ummm ... supportive supporting cast, the integrity must come from the hero alone in the end, no matter how tough their obstacles become. You are born with Quirks, but how you choose to implement them for the good of mankind is up to you. Great power, great responsibility, etc.

    My Hero Academia and Spider-Man are not a 1:1 comparison as, again, the basics of its world and the attributes of its cast fit it more firmly with late-term Avengers films where dozens of heroes interact in a spectacle created by the sheer existence of their number. My Hero Academia rarely feels as lonely as Spider-Man tends to be. But in capturing the relatable qualities of adolescence and focusing on the “quirks” of what is essentially high school life, it does manage to hit some of the same high notes, notes that I imagine contributed greatly to its popularity.

  Does that mean All-Might is an Uncle Ben character, with his “Now it’s your turn” point to Midoriya serving a similar purpose to the “Great responsibility” speech? Eh, a little bit. But in relating it to the superhero genre that currently forms an entertainment monolith around the world, especially when it has to do with the character of Spider-Man, we start to unlock some of the reasons why My Hero Academia has been such a powerhouse series over the past few years. You can see just as much of Midoriya in Peter Parker as you can in guys like Naruto or Asta — characters that aren’t relatable simply because they’re young, but because we connect to their experiences of youth, experiences that are somehow both deeply specific and also beautifully universal.

      Daniel Dockery is a Senior Staff Writer for Crunchyroll. Follow him on Twitter!

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features.

By: Daniel Dockery

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Ramses Runihura ( Apep ) AGE & BIRTH DATE. 3000+ & Unknown GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him SPECIES. Rift OCCUPATION. Unemployed FACE CLAIM. Mena Massoud

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: death, murder, natural disasters ) To speak his name was to invoke chaos, misery, and strife. How much safer the ancient ones believed themselves to be as they whispered well earned titles instead through hushed tones. Lord of Chaos, World Encircler, Soul Eater. The monikers shifted in waves along the loose sands of time, each more devastating and horrifying than the last, yet veracious all the same. The mythos painted him in dashing colors as various reptilians throughout history, but always returned to the most shrewd and ineffable of all: the great serpent.

Apep, or Apophis as his mother once named him, cannot recall the moment of his creation, woven somewhere in the primordial threads of existence shortly after his brother’s rise as architect of all… Or so the endless droves of mortal supporters would eventually claim. The sun god who fashioned himself an entire universe purely for his own worship, how pretentious and it allotted far more credit than Ra deserved on even his best day. Amun and Horus were both absorbed into the overrated caricature at some point, disregarded for their contributions which eventually blended into credit undue for this golden god. Still the blind fanaticism continued and his brother’s ego grew with every passing century, solidifying Ra’s undeserved role as King of The Gods.

Where the citizens of antiquity adored and fawned over the sun god and his intolerable pharaohs, Apep’s impressive abilities were shunned and dreaded. Unlike his brother and fellow deities, no one worshipped at the god of chaos and darkness’ altar. They did not even deign him worthy enough to construct a shrine in his honor. Instead the world sprung fear and hatred of the one who directly contrasted their beloved patron of light. Solar eclipses, devastating natural disasters, and terrible storms were linked to his name. Not without merit of course, but Apep believed it justified for those who so blindly trusted the gods to care. If anything, he should have been praised for not cowering behind sanctimony and false benevolence.

Distaste and distrust turned humanity bitter. They made a yearly ritual of banishing his presence from their lands in which priests would build effigies of Apep thought to contain all of the evil and darkness in Egypt. The symbolism might have been considered flattering were they not burning the representation to protect against malevolence for another year, nor housing a secondary figure which was taken into the temple before being beaten, crushed, smeared with mud, and burned. From therein they narrated stories about Ra’s numerous and overblown victories whilst reciting useless spells which did absolutely nothing to quell Apep’s thirst for cataclysm. Even the dead were thought to require protection from his brutality in the underworld lest he swallow them whole, so they were often buried with spells that could ward him off.

How astonishingly naïve. Darkness, like its sister death, could not be subdued by mere carvings and prayers.

None saw purpose through the god of destruction’s perspective, not even those who shared in his divinity. Too often whilst attempting to challenge his brother did he find himself in combat with the other celestial beings protecting Ra–– who, frankly, didn’t deserve their loyalty. Every night as the sun travelled across the sky, human text claimed that Apep’s roar would fill the air and he launched his persistent attack. Ironically, more often than not he discovered himself across from Set, a youthful harbinger of chaos whose true nature could only be subdued for as long as he remained beneath Ra’s forceful thumb. The deities rested on opposing ends of the spectrum, where Set harnessed his true disposition and relied upon morality, Apep remained a force for pandemonium and could not be reasoned with.

It was written that Apep’s movements often resulted in earthquakes, and his numerous battles with Set were thought to have created the origin of thunderstorms. How deliciously poetic and twisted, until Set inevitably became corrupted by his very nature and no longer wished to serve Ra in his army against Apep. Just as the great serpent predicted, none were immune to their own penchant for carnage and his fellow chaos lord plunged into the darkness alongside him. The pair considered themselves to have a… mutual understanding of sorts from then on. Loathed by the people of Egypt and the world, cast out in the sacred texts and admonished for simply adhering to what they were. What they had always been.

Yet mankind were weak, dispensable, and quite unimpressive in the grand scheme of the cosmos. Their opinions meant little when the greatest enemy, Ra, still held the lofty throne and continued to exist as a pain point. Unfortunately, such fixation on the King of The Gods undeniably led to Apep’s downfall and became his undoing. The trap was admittedly laid quite carefully, and were he not so arrogant as to assume his brother’s moral obligation then perhaps he might have been able to avoid its snare. Caught by his brother and thrown unceremoniously into the veil between worlds without method to escape or wield his power, the god of darkness lingered in the clutches of oblivion.

From inside of this schism he began to plot, turning over any opportunities with the sort of cunning only found in the most cold-blooded of snakes. Despite no longer acting as the devourer of souls within the underworld, he still maintained a bond and audience alongside Hades. Another pantheon, another overlooked pillar of divinity, the pair had long since bonded over the villainous mantles bestowed upon them in direct contrast to their louder, brighter siblings. The lord of death began to whisper words of chaos and destruction from the Grecian realm, it was decided then that direct vengeance against Ra could be placed aside while there were other ways to infiltrate humanity. If anything, it provided ample room for his brother’s difficulties to grow. Ra could weaken himself in time as Apep punctured holes in the world.

Thus he whispered back instructions for a being of his own creation and the method through which it could be done. Hades, as all loyal companions do, began to spread the word of such power throughout the Greek world and soon enough the mischief spread into additional pantheons. Some were repulsed by the notion of this new being, but far too many were taken with its purpose and possibility. They deemed them cubi, humans turned immortal and cursed with the ability to devour souls. Unknowingly fashioned in Apep’s own likeness, of course.

As the first fledgling incubi and succubi began to wander the world, consuming souls and magic, causing ruination in their wake, the primordial god bided his time. He witnessed their numbers grow and then dwindle in harmony with the empires of mankind, but in truth felt nothing towards their existence at first. They were simply a means to an end, a method in which he could enact chaos from within this unholy confinement. Eventually they began to die out entirely, bitten by those infernal shapeshifters and reduced to a pitiful count.

No matter, the dawning of a new age came and with its arrival stemmed the unanticipated crack in an already delicate prison. The veil seemingly tore and eons of patience finally paid off; Apep discovered freedom in the hastiness of his escape. Noticeably weakened from three millenniums spent housed in the limbo between divinity and the mortal plane, he pressed forward into the human world with every intention of regaining his former glory and strengthening what little army of immortal demons were left. The cubi meant nothing to him whilst trapped, but now that he actively rejoined the playing field? Well, they might just be his ultimate tool in destruction.

Everything he did now would culminate in the pursuit of the intentions Apep had possessed since birth… Ensure the crumbling of Ra’s empire and plunge the universe into unending darkness.

PERSONALITY

+ ambitious, independent, cunning - narcissistic, wicked, merciless

PLAYED BY MARTY. PST. She/Her.

[darksiders-scenarios]

Intimate/ fluff moment with War please??

This has been sitting in my drafts for far too long. Begone! Forgive, as always, the inaccuracies, grammar and everything mistakes.

Scenario goes something like this (?): War and Y/N step into Eden. Y/N collapses from angstsy lil shit syndrome emotional overload or something. Misses fight with War’s shadow. Story starts now.

“On your feet.” The voice was resonant, its rumble like distant thunder, the tone stern but never cruel. It drifted through the murky sludge of your melancholic thoughts like the fresh breeze of daybreak. You obeyed, for it was impossible not to. You reached up with trembling fingers.  

The first time War had clung to you was after crashing down from his Chaosform, disoriented and shivering in pained exhaustion on his knees. Though the gesture might have been instinctual than voluntary, you had nonetheless cradled his head in silent support, feeling the slackness in his muscles and cold sweat soaking through your clothes. You had absently noted the passage of time through his laboured breathing, the cool evaporation of your mingled sweat as the desert sun had past its peak, down to the cramped stiffness of your leg muscles. Until finally - as though reaching a nonvocal agreement - you swore you had sensed an invisible pulse of satisfaction from the horseman. His satisfaction to slowly begin lowering the drawbridge to you from that moment forth - not granting you full entry into the fortress of his mind but still presenting to you a sliver of its opening.    

The moment was now mirrored when War’s warm-chapped palm, riddled with calluses, grasped yours gently. He had removed his gauntlet. He pulled you up from the sacred dust and guided you to his cold breastplate, welcomed in his embrace.

It could have been a moment, or a day or a year when you felt his body curl slightly inwards as War leaned down. His trembles were subdued but they transferred through your skin and into your muscles like a fever. He still hasn’t recovered from his fight with the shadow. “Do you require privacy?” he asked quietly.  

You nodded. A single downward motion that got swamped in the bulk of his armour. But he saw. For War always saw, always heard, always knew what you needed without the necessity for words. Your throat was parched and sere as the sands of the Ashlands and your body ached. You were so very, very tired.  

War lifted you with the care due to the holiest of relics, and you were enveloped in a cloak of warmth. Your eyelids slid half-open and you almost scrunched it shut again when radiant golden sunlight awashed your vision.  

“Lord…” the strength it took to simply formulate those words.

“Child of Eden,” the archangel Azrael whispered, leaning down to cradle your face, wiping away the grime and dried tear tracks from your cheeks with soft fingertips. You almost recoiled in shame. “I am not your lord. I wish nothing but infinite peace and blessings upon you, dearest Y/N. Oh… Oh how my heart bleeds to sense the guilt and shame that scorch your soul that which should never be existent. To know that I assisted in… in this. To have the temerity to presume that I can ask for an atom of your forgiveness all the while my accursed presence sullies the sanctitude of this realm,” his eyes were impossibly sorrowful as he held your gaze. Eden, already tranquil with the hums of ethereal unreality seemed to have quieted further as though in solemnity with the archangel’s hushed confession. “Perhaps… preserving the remains of Eden was a mere self-deception under the guise of atonement,” his pale eyes glistened like the purest crystals, “Only by the grace of the Creator can your pain and grief be alleviated, dearest Y/N.”          

Azrael’s smile was a brittle, broken thing but it lit his face like the damned sun. His magnificence lending to the beatific of Eden as though he was the missing conduit to the realm’s veiled radiance. It was impossible to not feel safe in the archangel’s presence, to not bask in his warmth and light and love. Such naked love. It was little wonder humanity had been revering these entities since the dawn of their creation, erecting statues and creating wondrous art to emulate their perceived soulful nature- until that delusion, that ancient lie of earthen myth was horribly shattered when the murderous, hubristic angels made themselves known at last.

Great Azrael. The truest angel. So utterly beautiful. So utterly broken. As much a pawn as every living soul in this detestable chess game.  

“The Creator,” you spat but the venom was lost in the whispery tone. You drew in a shaky breath. “Abandoned us. Used us…” you clenched your teeth, muscles bunched,“ Played us all as… as pawns-”

“Enough,” War said- ordered. You lapsed into silence, sagging against him.  

“Wait here,” he directed to the archangel. Azrael bowed deeply and moved away, joining the Watcher, but not before you caught the tears that flowed down his cheeks in slow, silver trails. You pressed your face into the hood on War’s shoulder and let him carry you into Eden. Deeper into Paradise.  

An image bred within your mind, of majestic landscaped gardens veined by fragranced basins and tributaries, the perfume of heaven flowing into your olfactory senses, sweet without being dizzying, breath-taking beyond mortal description. The notes in the breeze sang in your bloodstream and its taste was golden honey on your tongue. All the greatest manuscripts and paintings by the most gifted artists would never approach the purity of a speck of Eden’s sacred earth. The paragon of protected serenity.  

You startled when War carefully set you down on a soft bedding of flora of indescribable shades, hues and colour- nameless and undiscovered by mankind. You briefly imagined him clearing the ground for you while you- Had you dozed off?

Your eyes burned when War’s hand fell upon your shoulder in a fraternal gesture, sure and solid. Real. “Do you want me to leave?”

You swallowed, unable to speak for several moments. War waited patiently, not rushing you. Then you nodded. “I am sorry…”  

“Do not be,” he paused and you imagined him watching you, staring down at you with those gentle eyes reserved only for you. “When you are ready, join me. I shan’t be far.“    

Join me. Not we shall leave. Join me. He was telling you to stay. To linger a while… You felt a pull, a tug, a melody from your soul to whatever gestalt consciousness that inhabited this realm, Eden’s mournful cry of longing in the wind chimes soothing your frazzled mind and caressing your broken psyche, calling to you as though welcoming a lost kindred. Every touch, sight, sound, taste and smell was an invitation to release, to let go. To lie down and simply  

be.

You closed your eyes and listened to your friend’s fading boot steps, honouring your wish.

He wasn’t far. You found him sitting amongst the flora with his back to you, hand folded atop the stump of his other arm in his lap. A beautiful turquoise tributary flowed gently in front of him, unspoiled and clean, shimmering like a thousand gems beneath the golden skies. You spared it only fleeting moments of attention.  

War was bare-backed safe for his leg plates, his armour and weapons laid in a neat pile beside him. His shoulders rose and fell with quiet breaths, his snow-white hair gently swaying with its rhythms.  

Your eyes wandered over the geography of scars on his skin, cobwebbing around his arms and ribs, winding over his shoulders and disappearing down the front. Your gaze lingered on the fresh ones, wishing nothing more than to soothe and undo them. For a while, all you did was stare at him, allowing his calming presence to ground you. He was inhumanly beautiful, gleaming gold as though kissed by Eden’s aura, like a god of summer. His presence was far more suited here than yours.      

You couldn’t resist a smile, the trickle of reverent adoration filling your heart, momentarily hushing your melancholy without fully fading.  

“Our missions necessitated a fair amount of travel, moving from conquered world to the next and the next and the next without pause, without delay,” he didn’t turn to you, and you suspected he was talking more to himself than you. “Upon every world we set foot on, be they of starless skies, of harsh deserts or oceanic worlds, my gaze would always travel heavenwards. The action seemed hardwired yet the reason had always eluded me. It eventually became something of a strange dance, one that I began to entertain without conscious thought, fast becoming a thirst that couldn’t be sated in the centuries to come.” His tone was distant yet weighed by emotion, “And every sky was as beautiful as the first.”

“War?”

His words melted into a chuckle and War shook his head. “Forgive me, I ramble. Come. Sit with me.”

You lowered yourself cross-legged on the cool flora bedding, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his skin. It offered more comfort to you than the actual ambiance of this land. Eden. Paradise… Heaven. Jannah. It was real. You closed your eyes, tight enough to pain, and dropped your head into your palms.  

“Too much?” came the gentle rumble above you.

You let your silence answer for him.

“I am sorry that it had turned out this way, young one,” the sympathy in War’s tone made your throat tight. “We can always leave if you wish, but that would mean leaving the only site untouched by violence.”

“I don’t know what to think,” you admitted quietly.

“I understand.”

Your fingers dug into your scalp. “May I lean on you… please?”

A creature of action, War answered you by pulling you close, carefully tucking you to him. His skin was warm as sunlight. You let go against him, boneless and pliant. You heard him murmur something soothing but your mind was unable to shape the words, to process their meaning, but you drifted to the sound of his voice – deep and calming and grounding. His hair was soft on your forehead.    

“Eden. The emergence of mankind and womankind,” you mused, echoing War’s little soliloquy. “And here I am, perhaps marking its epilogue. Quite the honour, eh?” you snickered, stopping short when thick fingers brushed your shoulder. “Perhaps I am indeed the last human alive…” you pulled away and managed a weak smile for your friend. “But in the end, I am glad that I have met you, War.”  

“And I you,” War stared at you in silence. “Your story shall not decay, this I give you my word, Y/N. Azrael will chronicle everything of your people, its wealth of lore, cultures and histories. There are many things I can fault the angel but his honesty is incontrovertible.“ His words were ladened with silent conviction.

You winced. “Lord Azrael… I should not have said those things to him.”

“He bears no ill-judgment of you.”

That did not ease the heaviness in your chest. Perhaps War sensed your unease because his lips quirked at the corners. His was always the barest of smiles, softening his statuesque features, making him unarguably youthful. His smile put you at ease.

"You’re beautiful,” you confessed without thinking, the words easy on your tongue.

He didn’t stir. “We were created to be above such mortal sentiments.”

“I… I know,” you tensed, cheeks burning. “But the sentiment is sincere.”

"That is why I honour you.”  

You swallowed, toying with the hem of your top. You remembered to breathe again. “I’m sorry I missed your fight with your… that shadow.”      

“There was nothing to miss. You’ve seen me battle many times,” he stroked a silken petal, its hue a gentle contrast against his skin, “I sit here now because I triumphed.”

“You sounded dubious when you said you triumphed”, you remarked, cursing yourself in the same moment for your crassness.

“That’s because I am,” War confessed without hesitation, never one to reel from the truth.  

You held your tongue, your gaze following his lazy patterns with the petal.  

When War spoke again, sorrow inched into his murmured words. “In that instant, I feared I was witnessing my authentic, batin self. Those eyes… I had no idea I was capable of such hate Y/N. My soul blackened with such inveterate rage and hate and malice,” his voice softened almost to a whisper and you knew that he was reliving the fight, reliving those unpleasant moments. “Every iota of repressed fear, desires, every base savagery beyond mortal comprehension, I bore witness to it all, embodied it. There is purity in aggression, if tempered by self-restraint. But this, this was poison polluting my veins, crippling my cognition and judgement. Like a specimen sliced open to see its inner workings, so too were my heart and soul laid bare and vulnerable before me.”    

“Was that the most disturbing thing for you?”

“He was I and I was he. We were in perfect harmony in cognition, temperament and soul. It is not a memory- a truth I recall with any comfort.”  

You rested a hand on his forearm. Warm. “Thank you for your candour, War. That shadow. Your darkest, most abhorrent mirror, if you may. You know that it is simply your unrestrained self let loose. We all carry it, War. It’s one thing to repress our basest urges, but to bear witness to its ugly truths is another level entirely. But they are just that. Truths. Simple, raw unrefined concepts that care nothing for what we desire. Just as you taught me when faced with any truth, it is what you do with it what matters. And as far as urges go, I would imagine such sentiments of the Nephilims to be magnified tenfold to that of a human,” you looked up, meeting his eyes and almost robbed of breath by the warrior’s beauteous features under the ethereal glow of Eden’s skies. His presence was indeed far more suited here than yours.  

“Every soul is a prisoner to fate, Y/N,” War said gently.  

“I know,” you agreed, bitterness burning through you. You suppressed a growl. “But you made a choice. You chose another path, contrary to your innate drive to annihilate without question. All those urges, all those traits that you loathe about yourself- you didn’t just experience them all, no. You fought and struggled and triumphed. Yes, triumphed. You chose this outcome. That can only mean one thing, War. You are you, and, by definition,” you smiled, amending yourself, “your definition, not he.”  

War snorted. “A matter of perspective.”

“As you say.”

He held your gaze, soft mirth glazing his blue eyes. “I jest.”

You nodded. “Thank you for confirming my hypothesis.”  

His laughter was an exhalation of quiet breaths. Even after all these years, his soft laughter remained the most beautiful sound you’ve heard. It was impossible to not join him. “Oh War, if it’s one thing that I shall miss the most when we part would be me tormenting you.”

“It pleases me to know that we can be comfortably candid with one another.”

His statement was accentuated when you both lapsed into comfortable silence, each to their own thoughts, at ease with the other’s company. One bitter thought hammered at the forefront of your cognition, pulsating more strongly with every passing moment.

“Speak your mind,” War encouraged quietly, as though sensing your disquiet. This may be the last time, you translated. You confessed to him as much.

“Perhaps,” he conceded. “I am not a being who gives into the falsehood of luck as you know, but if it may allay your mind, there is an iota of a chance that I may prevail.”

You snorted. “Idealistic. Not bad. Your optimism is getting better.”

He shrugged a bare shoulder. “It gladdens my heart to hear you approve.”

“As is your wit.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “I am not my brother.”  

“I didn’t imply that.”

“Your tone suggested otherwise. As well as the notion that perchance, your statement was intended as a compliment?”

You smiled in reply. “A matter of perspective.”

War didn’t respond; the pensive look that shrouded his features dimmed your fragile jovial streak. "I meant no disrespect, War.”

“No,” he sounded almost distrait. “Forgive me a moment’s distraction, my friend. Talk of my siblings often evokes ruminative musings in me.”

You listened to the susurration of petals grazing the sacred earth beneath his fingers, his mind clearly elsewhere. You waited patiently, not rushing him.

War leaned forward, almost hunching. “The love of my kindred runs deep, of that there is no doubt, accompanied by the inveterate fear for their fates. But they, like me, are creatures of intelligence and predation. They can fend for themselves and weather any trials and tribulations. I dread nonetheless for they are my brothers and sister. You agree it is an innate drive.”  

You said nothing.  

War brushed a hand over his face, didn’t lower it. “For all our kinship, I never fully comprehended the dynamics of the Nephilim collective psyche. Yes, we are psychically bonded by a singular agenda, no, we are never identically minded in that concept.”

You remained silent. Rare were such moments of reminiscence for the horseman.

He continued. “We were noble in some morbid way, I suppose. When one shamed, we all bore that brother or sister’s shame. When a brother or sister fell, we always carried out the mercy stroke, never allowing them the indignity to suffer in helpless humiliation, all the while disregarding the butchering of the realm’s natives for this… act of honour,” he faintly sneered the word, uncharacteristic for the horseman.      

War’s fingers lowered, shivering with the faintest tremors. His eyes were clouded, and you knew that in his mind’s eye he was journeying through the ashen lands of nameless, now forgotten worlds, inhaling their choked funereal air all over again.

War chuckled darkly, as though at a private jest. “Yet for all my talk of our ‘nobility’, the Nephilim was a cancer to reality. It was right to annihilate them.”

“War.”

“We were a brotherhood, yes. A close-knitted brotherhood of mindless, bloodthirsty savages void of free-will, credos, honour…”

“War.”

“Perfect living engines of warfare, excelling at nothing but bestial bloodshed-”

“That’s the shadow talking!”

That rendered him silent. You were close enough to see his chest rising and falling rapidly, his breathing shallow. His fingers still twitched.

“That’s the shadow talking,” you repeated softer. “You are Nephilim yes, but you are also War. My protector and companion. My dearest friend and brother,” you willed him to see the absolute unconcealed sincerity in your eyes. “That is the truth.”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “The truth is not always absolute, young one.”

You looked away. “It’s exhausting when you keep denying my points.”

“Forgive me. It is not my intention to discomfit you.”

“No, forgive me.”

The slow release of a deep breath rumbling from a mighty chest. “Y/N, I would like to think that my points are also as valid as yours,” though his voice betrayed no irritation or anger, his gently spoken words bore the same sharpness of a blade. The shame scraped your conscious raw.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha-” you began.

"I do not deny you, dear Y/N,” War cut in gently. “I am merely reluctant to accept your outlook of me with what…” he closed his eyes. “It is difficult to put into words.”

“I think I know what you’re trying to say, War,” you quietly assured him.  

He opened his eyes, studying you for several heartbeats. The haunted look diminishing slightly, softening. “Your words are heartfelt and for that, I am grateful. There are moments, I feel, that you read me better than I do myself,” he sighed, almost soundless, and the urge to press your shoulder against his was overwhelming. “My mind is… aflamed, dulled by pained dwellings of an ignoble past. You, my companion and friend, see beyond who I am supposed to be, rather as who I am, in your eyes anyway,” his eyes were bright enough to ache. “That is why I honour you.”

“I love you too, War.”

He inclined his head away from you, but his shoulders were shaking. He was laughing.

He was laughing. Your heart warmed. It took you several seconds to stop grinning like a fool.  

Once more, there was a long silence, safe for the gentle gushing of Eden’s water. The breeze caressed your cheeks like a lover’s touch. You reined in your emotions and focused on the large fingers still stroking the flower on the ground. There was a certain reverence in the touch, as soft as the petals he was tracing, but there was also a concealed yearning, the passive hunger of a patient predator, searching and sifting, searching and sifting, through layers and layers of-

“The sky,” you echoed War’s earlier word. The revelation came unbidden to your mind.    

War blinked slowly as though hesitantly tearing his attention from the petal between his thumb and forefinger.

“The sky,” you repeated softly. “Does it remind you of home?” Of a home you can only envision in your dreams- that you did not voice aloud.

War turned his gaze from his ministration to you. His smile was flecked with buried grief that you’ve only now begun to see.  

You winced from the shame that seared your heart.  

His people. His kindred. His family. You were so deeply entrenched in your grief that you forgot that this was a place of sorrow for him too. A nationless race forever trapped in the clutches of fate ever since their miserable creation. The creature in front of you always carried himself with the perfect stoicism of a fortress yet his soul has always been a fresco of guilt, burden and shame, buried so deeply within the protection of his walls and defences. Eden was his tombstone.

You lost count of the times you had ruminated and berated yourself over ill-made decisions. Over hasty and ill decisions that almost always landed in disappointment and frustration, in risks and misery - hasty and ill-advised decisions that you knew would make again and again and again.  

But the moment your friend reciprocated your affection by resting his heavy head on your shoulder, you knew that you were right to be impulsive in your decision. This may be the last time.

“I’m sorry,” you said into his hair, running a hand through the fine strands as you held him. “I’m sorry War.”

“Is that pity I hear in your tone?”

Your smile was pained. “Or perhaps I am simply not without empathy.”

His chuckle rumbled against your shoulder. The sound enriched by melancholy. For an irrational moment, you couldn’t help but imagine that you were embracing a child, willing the ache in his heart to soothe and ebb away, to be the balm to his soul. War, you thought, did you even have a childhood?

War would be welcomed in your home; you had told him this, day in, day out, time and time again. War had always responded in that taciturn way of his; a small smile followed by gentle laughter robbed of any ridicule, laced by amusement and hints of budding affection.

“You know you would be welcomed in my home,” you reminded him, stroking down his nape and back, feeling the powerful shifts of muscles.

War relaxed in the embrace, threads of his hair cascading off his closed eyes, his breathing deepening. Calm. Trustful. Where the purity of rage was intoxicating in his veins, the gift of serenity was almost anathema to his mind’s touch. You loved him most for trusting you, for allowing his ironclad mask to lower in your presence.

As you held him, you marvelled at how times have changed, oh how they have changed indeed. You wished you could stay with him here, forever.  

“…harmonises with mine.”

Your fingers stilled. “What did you say?”

“I said that your thinking harmonises with mine.” His voice was so soft the breeze almost stole it from you. Had you mused this aloud?

War stirred, wrapping one strong arm around you, tightening the hug without hurting you. His voice softened further, “I also said that you already have.”

A beat of silence. You opened your mouth then closed it at once, mind racing as your thundering heart. You drew back slightly, maintaining contact with a hand on his back while you lifted the other to encompass your surroundings. “Sorry for the mess!” You exclaimed brightly, wincing at the hitch in your voice and laughing at the fusion of amusement and dignified shock in your friend’s bright eyes.

“But of course, it should not come to me as a surprise,” War teased, playing along, delighting you. “To treat your gift as such.”

You huffed. “As my gift, surely I can do with it as I will?”  

His brows furrowed, then he smiled. “You make a compelling argument, young one.”

You snorted, and then laughed. When you finished laughing, you drew in a shaky breath and laughed some more, a little hysterical, a little desperate. You laughed and laughed until your eyes watered and stomach ached. At some point, War had hugged you to him again. Like you, he was also catching his breath, but he was recovering far swifter than you.

“Xoron,” he began, startling you, his tone as soft as your touch. His face was tucked in your shoulder and you lightly scratched his scalp.

“Astragr. Ghyssa,” he continued in that same reminiscent tone. “Bhal. Alli. Istis.” You kept your silence as War continued his litany of names. While he spoke on, you had buried your face in his hair again, breathing in the familiar waft of mountain dew and cinder, the cocktail of unknown compounds in his sweat and skin. You smiled with him during moments of fond reminiscence and lent your silent sympathy during moments of sad recollections.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him when he finished. “for trusting me.”

Instead of replying, War pressed you tighter to him. Your eyes burned and the lump in your throat swelled more painfully. You knew that you were stalling, and you knew that he knew that you were stalling. Nothing this precious, this sacred should ever last. Destiny was too cruel in its sense of humour. But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t make the moment worthwhile.

You slowly pulled out of War’s arms, smiling when you felt his reluctance in letting you go. You asked him to wait. You knelt by his armour and rummaged through till your fingers brushed his pouch. You pulled out an empty flask. Then you stood up and strode to the stream, rinsing the glass thoroughly before filling it up.

You turned back to War.

His back was straight, his muscles locked and eyes wide, a cornered beast in anticipation of an attack. He began to speak, to protest, but shortly trailed off when you did not utter a word in defense. Your eyes were closed. When War said nothing else, you opened them again.  

War bowed his head. “Forgive me. It is your gift. You do with it as you will.”

“To share with you,” you amended gently. “War, this is not coercion. It is an offer from me, from a host unto their guest.” He was so stooped that it seemed like he was trying to curl into himself. You gave him pause, waiting patiently. Then you stood before him within three steps.

War slowly raised his head and you saw the silent plea in his eyes. He was making no effort to conceal it. Your heart broke. War never pleads. You ached to reach out to smooth those tight frown lines with your fingertips, to wrap him in your arms and never let go.

You closed the distance, leaning forwards and pressing your lips to his forehead, whispering, “Let me share this gift with you, War. Please. You have given much and sacrificed even more. I love you. I love everything about you, your light and your shadow.” His breaths came out as near-imperceptible stutters. You brought your palms to his temples, as though seeking to ground him.

“From this moment forth-”

“Y/N.”

“-regardless of happens when we leave-”

“Y/N.”

“-I need you to know that-”

“Please.”                          

You kissed his forehead. “Eden is your home too.”

He was silent and still, rigid as marble stone. When the silence stretched on, you pulled away, careful not to make eye contact. You turned around, taking in the lands of your foremost mother and father for the last time, committing as much to memory before leaving.  

“I place myself in your hands.”

Tears spilled down your face and neck. Without a word, you turned back to your friend. The plea had shifted to something softer, deeper, but not fully disappeared. Slowly, very slowly, you raised the flask, willing War to see your intent. But War had already bowed his head, true to his words. Honourable War.

Carefully, reverently, you poured the flask over his head, washing away the dirt and crusted blood from his hair. “This is your home now,” you murmured as the water trickled down his neck, shoulders and back, crystal droplets caressing and cleansing his golden skin easily.

You understood his reluctance to stepping into the stream itself. So you refilled the vial and returned to him again and again. “You will always be welcomed here.” You poured the shimmering water over his arms and feet. The water was so clean and pure that you didn’t need to physically scrub off any stubborn dirt, scabs and blood.

You knelt before the horseman as you bathed his hand, between his fingers and the plates of his nails. Finally, you laved the naked stump of his other arm, most thoroughly and gentlest of all.

You didn’t move away once finished, unwilling to break the intimacy of the closeness, unwilling to do anything but

be.

Your hand hovered over the stump. You looked up. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead. His ancient eyes, blue as the winter skies sparkled for a moment, almost as though with-

“War.”

“You may touch,” he murmured.

You kissed the golden stump instead, reverently, and pressed your forehead against his cooled skin. His vulnerability. His beautiful, beautiful, vulnerability.

“I’m sorry War,” you said again.

He breathed, slow and deep.

“It is not I who sits homeless on the broken husk of a sacred land.”

“I am sorry that you were wrongly accused of a crime that you did not commit.”

“It is not I who wandered the scorched, barren wasteland of their annihilated home realm, whose bare feet remained drenched with the ashes of their people in the years to come.”

“I am sorry that you no longer have your brothers and sisters with you.”

“It is not I whose kin begged and wept and bled away in senseless eradication.”

You reached up and touched your fingertips to his closed eyes. “For being blind to your loss and sorrow.”

He grasped your wrist in a gentle grip. “For being deaf to your needs.”

You cupped his cheek with your free hand. “For clinging to you.”

His lips were warm against your knuckles. “For being stubborn.”

“I am sorry,” you said as one.        

War stared at you, the depths of his eyes capturing you, absorbing you as they always did. “There may be no coming back, little one,” he offered his last piece of argument.

You stared at him, the depths of your eyes capturing him, absorbing him as they always did. “You are my Eden, War.”

Silence seemed to stretch for an eternity. The barest tremor shivered along the Horseman’s arm and you hugged the stump in a tight grip, feeling the shifts of muscles beneath his golden skin. You heard the gentle clink of clenched teeth. Your eyes slid shut. A teardrop fell onto the back of your hand, mixing with the purest water in existence.

It was not yours.  

Later that day, the archangel Azrael would observe the Rider’s eyes to be tinged a raw pink. He would keep this observation to himself.

[thearvariblues]

The Bard And The Wolf - Chapter Seven

(AKA Geraskier in the Metal Band AU you didn’t know you needed)

AKA me desperately trying to catch up my Tumblr with what’s already been posted to AO3. ;)

The masterpost for this fic can be found HERE.

7 – You Stop This, Jaskier

All eyes turned to the door when Jaskier entered the rehearsal room, a big paper cup of coffee in one hand, a paper bag in the other.

“Fifteen minutes late with Starbucks,” Renfri smirked.

“I have two things to say to that, dear heart,” Jaskier said, taking a sip of his coffee. “First, I’m merely three minutes late. And second, I would never ever in my life set foot in a place as wretched as Starbucks, so don’t ever accuse me of something so horrible again!”

“Did you stop for a coffee or not, Jask?” Geralt chuckled.

“No. I stopped for something to eat. The coffee was an afterthought.”

He placed the cup on a little table next to the couch, sat down right next to Geralt and reached into the paper bag, pulling out a big sandwich which he immediately took a big bite of.

“Wow. Your night must have been really taxing,” Lambert laughed.

“Is Ciri around?” Jaskier mumbled.

“She’s walking Roach,” Geralt said.

“Good. In that case, my dears, I can tell you that my night was exquisite. I spent most of it in the middle of a very lovely, well… sandwich. Our fans really do get enthusiastic after a good show!” he grinned, but then he frowned. “Wait, who’s Roach?”

“What do you mean, who’s…” Renfri blinked. “Oh, of course, you haven’t met her yet. Roach is Geralt’s dog. Technically, she’s Roach number two.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said. “Right.”

“She’s a husky,” Eskel added.

“Of course she is. And… She’s coming here with Ciri?” he beamed.

“Yeah. In a few minutes,” Geralt nodded. “But don’t touch Roach. She doesn’t trust strangers. I adopted her a few months ago when Roach number one died. She wasn’t even one year old, but her life must have been really shitty before, so…”

“Poor little thing.”

“Yeah, she’s definitely not like Roach number one,” Renfri sighed. “That was such a sweet girl. This one is like a tornado.”

“But of course Geralt still adores her,” Eskel said.

“Yes. I seem to have a thing for totally unpredictable and crazy individuals,” Geralt smirked. “Jesus, Jask, are you seriously going to wolf down the whole thing? This must be the biggest sandwich mankind has ever seen. How does it even fit in your mouth?”

“Lots of practice.”

“Eating sandwiches?” Lambert said, cocking his eyebrow. “Or stuffing large things into your mouth?”

“The latter,” Jaskier grinned. “And stop giving me that look, Geralt. I’m hungry and I refuse to look like a starving bag of muscle like some of us do.”

“Some of us, Jaskier?” Geralt asked.

“Come on, I saw you getting dressed before the gig yesterday. I mean, yeah, big muscles, ripped body, it’s meant to be sexy, but it only means you should definitely eat more. A little layer of some nice, protective fat would do you good.”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Renfri muttered. “He keeps his body like that because Yennefer liked it.”

“I keep my body like that because I like it,” Geralt growled.

“Well, don’t mind me then,” Jaskier shrugged, getting another bite of his sandwich. “I just tend to like men who are strong and a little bit soft at the same time. Like Eskel here. But that’s just my problem. If you want to look like this, go on. Hey. Hey! That’s my sandwich!”

“You said I should eat more, didn’t you?” Geralt smirked, effortlessly wrestling Jaskier’s snack out of his hands.

“Yes, but I didn’t mean my sandwich, you ass!”

“Too bad,” Geralt said, biting into it. “Oh, this is delicious!”

“So glad you like it,” Jaskier muttered. “I’m hungry over here, you know?”

“Shut it. You already have that layer of nice, protective fat,” Geralt mumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. Didn’t use to, you know?” Jaskier sighed, grabbing his coffee. At least something to soothe his hunger. “I used to be really thin. Always hungry. Because Valdo always used to tell me Oh, Julian, look, those tight pants would look so nice on you, too bad you’re not a size smaller. Oh, Julian, sweetie, look a this guy’s thighs, they don’t even touch each other, isn’t that beautiful? Julian, is that a tiramisu? Yeah, it’s a fucking tiramisu, you ass, and I’ll have as much as I want. Ugh. Can’t believe I wasted two years of my life with that bitch.”

A complete silence fell in the rehearsal room and Jaskier suddenly saw everyone was staring at him with mouths agape.

“I’m sorry,” Lambert finally said, after a few long moments. “Did you say Valdo?”

“Mhmf,” Jaskier muttered, trying to hide his face behind his coffee cup.

“As in Valdo Marx?” Eskel specified.

“Might have,”Jaskier peeped.

“Are you telling us that you dated fucking Valdo Marx for two years?!” Renfri yelled. “And you starved yourself for him?!”

“We broke up three years ago!” Jaskier said, throwing his arms open and nearly knocking the sandwich out of Geralt’s hand. “I was an idiot, okay? I thought I was glad to have found him, thought no one would be ever able to love the real me, blah blah blah. Took me way too long to realize I was being a total idiot and break up with him. He’s hated me ever since and my mother’s yet to speak to me again.”

“Your mother?” Eskel frowned.

“She thought Valdo and I would get married, adopt a kid and I would become a perfect housewife for him,” Jaskier sighed.

“Wow. She doesn’t know you at all, does she?” Renfri chuckled.

“Not in the slightest, honey.”

Lambert shook his head.

“Honestly, I’m still trying to process that someone like you would spend two years fucking that insufferable prick. Valdo Marx. Fuck.”

“Could we maybe stop discussing Valdo fucking Marx?” Geralt grunted. “Has anyone read the reactions to the gig yet? Because I haven’t.”

“Yes. Thank you, my lovely white wolf. Absolutely. Let’s focus on the reviews, because I kind of haven’t had the time yet to...”

The door swung open and a large husky came barging in, heading straight for the couch.

“Roach! Stop!” Ciri yelled behind the dog.

Roach stopped in front of Geralt, sniffed at his sandwich, and then turned her head to Jaskier.

The bard, remembering that the dog didn’t like strangers, avoided her eyes and merely offered her his hand. The next thing he knew, he had a massive dog in his lap and a wet nose was enthusiastically sniffing at his face.

He yelped when a broad tongue licked his nose.

“What was it you said about her not liking strangers?”

“I’ve never seen her do anything like this before, I swear!” Geralt chuckled, taking a coffee cup from Jaskier’s hand so it wouldn’t spill. “Roach, get down. Bad girl.”

The dog gave a tiny, desperate whine.

“I said get down,” Geralt repeated.

Roach turned her body to Geralt, eyed his sandwich and whined again.

“What did we say about begging for food?”

She lowered her head and looked pleadingly at her owner.

“Oh, I love her already,” Jaskier laughed. “Will love her even more when she stops crushing my crotch. Hi, Ciri, by the way.”

“Hi, Jaskier,” the girl replied. “Sorry, dad. I didn’t think she would do that. Where did you get the sandwich?”

“Stole it. Shamelessly!” Jaskier huffed. “Geralt, your dog is heavy as hell, you know it?”

“Roach. Get. The fuck. Down.”

Another whine.

“Oh, dear,” Jaskier chuckled. “Well, can someone at least read me those reviews and make me happy before I die?”

“Don’t you have your own phone?” Geralt asked.

“I do. In my pocket. Underneath your dog.”

“Right. Ciri?”

The girl already had the phone in her hand.

“On it.”

“Good,” Jaskier muttered. “And give me back my coffee, Geralt, because if you decide to steal that too, my chances of survival will grow even lower than they are now!”

“You really are such a drama queen, Jask…

*

“The Bard and the Wolf? What the hell is that?” Geralt frowned after the third (very positive) fan review of their gig. He had already finished Jaskier’s sandwich, and even managed to get Roach down from Jaskier’s lap. That seemed to be a mistake, as the dog clearly decided to hate him for that – judging by the fact that she was currently sitting on the floor by Jaskier’s leg and tapping his hand with her paw every time he had the audacity to stop petting her. She was completely ignoring Geralt’s very existence.

“Oh, that’s a new hasthtag. My creation,” Renfri said. “I needed to tag a pic with you two, and I thought of this...”

“What, instead of The Witcher and the Witch?” Lambert asked.

“And what’s that?” Jaskier asked before he could think better of it.

He should have expected the answer, of course.

“The hashtag people used to use for Geralt and Yennefer,” Eskel explained. “It was her character. A witch.”

“Oh, good,” Jaskier muttered. “Shouldn’t it have been The Witcher and the Bard, then?”

“Doesn’t have the same ring to it,” Renfri shrugged. “Besides, Geralt’s more of a Wolf, really.”

“True,” Jaskier nodded. “But to be honest, I don’t think it’s gonna stick.”

“You’re probably right,” Renfri nodded. “I’ve seen it used like… four times. But everyone calls you The Bard.”

“Perfect,” Jaskier grinned. “What do you think, Roach, isn’t it perfect? No, no, no! Roach! My coffee!”

He shrieked as the dog suddenly turned and jumped back onto his lap, knocking the cup out of his hand.

“Oh, dear, even dogs adore him,” Lambert sighed. “How is that fair?”

“Geralt!” Jaskier yelled. “Geralt, would you help me instead of fucking laughing?!”

“So sorry, dear heart,” Geralt chuckled. “But I think Roach has found her new favorite human.”

“I’m really glad to hear that! Oh, Geralt, you’re so gonna pay for this shirt!”

*

A few hours later, Jaskier was sitting on the couch in his living room, sipping wine and scrolling and scrolling and scrolling through his social media.

He knew he shouldn’t. He knew that it was narcissistic and, well, stupid. But he had to see. Had to convince himself that it hadn’t only been his imagination that afternoon.

He had to convince himself that yes, Kaer Morhen’s fans really did like his mad, cheeky, queer self. There were even a few who claimed that he was an improvement on Yennefer. An improvement! It was a dream come true.

He forced himself to stop and he put his phone down. Took a sip. Picked his phone back up.

He couldn’t help himself.

He gulped when he saw that Ciri had posted a new photo from the rehearsal room. A photo of Jaskier and Geralt sitting on the couch, with Roach on Jaskier’s lap. It must have been shortly after Roach knocked the coffee out of Jaskier’s hand, because Geralt was clearly laughing and Jaskier was just starting to.

Roach meeting @jaskierthebard for the first time. In case you couldn’t tell, she really hates strangers... #thebardandthewolf #andawolf #loveatfirstsight #husky #dogsofinstagram

Jaskier smiled and liked the post, and then kept looking at the picture a little longer.

He really loved Geralt’s expression there. It was so open, so happy and so damn beautiful.

Jaskier sighed, forced himself to put the phone down and closed his eyes, but he couldn’t stop himself from seeing the white haired man’s face.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” he whispered to himself. “You stop this, Jaskier. You stop this right now, because if you don’t, you’ll only get in trouble.”

He could stop his thoughts, yes. But he couldn’t stop his heart from beating a little faster.

*

Geralt knocked on his daughter’s door.

“Ciri, it’s eleven already. Lights out.”

He waited, but she didn’t answer, so he opened the door carefully.

The girl was asleep on her bed, dressed in her pajamas, with her laptop next to her.

Geralt took the laptop and the screen lit up. He stopped and blinked. Ciri had a new wallpaper – of Geralt, Jaskier and Roach in the rehearsal room.

He looked at the picture and smiled. He really had never seen Roach fall for someone so fast, but here she was, sitting on the bard’s lap, happy as ever.

And Jaskier…

Geralt shut the laptop and shook his head to clear it.

No. He wasn’t going to go there. No way.

He placed the laptop on a table, covered Ciri with a blanket and kissed her forehead.

“Good night, honey,” he whispered to her. “Sweet dreams.”

He turned off the light and closed the door behind himself.

Continue witch Chapter Eight

[born-of-ravens-and-kings]

Stop the Train!

So, apparently, yesterday was the one year anniversary of this blog. I've never done much with it, but on this occasion, I felt the urge to write. Like many of you, I'm a big fan of Trollhunters. I've watched it since it came out, my girlfriend and I are currently working our way through Part I of 3 Below (although I've already seen it) and it is in fact the show that made me decide to get Netflix in the first place. I adore the lore, the characters, the storytelling... Every aspect speaks to me.

I have been aware for some time that quite a few of you are... unhappy with Part III, mainly for what you perceive as a poor direction to take one of the main cast in and that you are content to lay the blame for this almost solely at the feet of one character in particular. As I have a singular dislike of spoilers (our very second date, my girlfriend spoiled HTTYD2 whilst we were buying popcorn at the cinema), I would ask that you only choose to keep reading if you're already all caught up (and if you've read the accompanying comics).

Stop the fucking Merlin Hate Train. Seriously. Stop it. You're out of coal, you're miles from the nearest station. Someone probably should have prepared for the journey a little better and I doubt most of you brought tickets anyway.

I am well aware that this is an extremely unpopular opinion to have and that merely expressing it will likely result in my bombardment from all ten of you who might read this blog. I do not care. This needs to be said.

You do not know better than Merlin. You cannot.

We know that Merlin crafted the Amulet of Daylight. That is fact. As the earliest Trollhunter we know of (a fellow named Spar the Spiteful) was around when mankind was at their most primitive (we were wearing animal skins and hadn't really developed anything major beyond sticks as weapons), we can surmise that he predates us, as indeed does Morgana if he is correct in thinking that she is older than he is.

This means that their enmity towards one another goes back much further than a cursory glance at the series would suggest, especially since we know for a fact that Merlin crafted the Amulet using Morgana's hand. This is an undertaking he would not have performed lightly, given that she is notoriously difficult to kill or, I would assume, maim. Even millennia later, he was only able to seal her away and as we know, was not fully aware of the finer details of said imprisonment.

This brings me back to my original point. You don't know better than he does and the reason you can't is because he doesn't know everything. As an example, I offer his first meeting with Jim. Merlin expresses surprise at his youth, mentioning off hand that he expected him to be at least thirty.

Now, we know from 'The Felled' that around a hundred years after she was chosen, Deya the Deliverer expressed a desire to know what her larger purpose was. To that end, she sought out Merlin and after much trial and hardship (during which she aided many in need and slew many misguided enough to try to stop her), she found him in what was to one day become his Tomb (literally coming upon him in the middle of setting up the time-displacement trap, Deya's the reason that bag of beans is just lying on the floor).

Pretty much the first thing she does is punch Merlin in the face and call him out on withholding knowledge of the future. He goes on to defend himself with the Staff of Avalon, saying that he's impressed with her rather than angry for punching him and then?

That was when Deya the Deliverer picked up the Omniscienstone.

It transpires that Merlin's ability to see the future is not inherent to him or at the very least is greatly enhanced by the Omniscienstone. He warned Deya not to use it, saying that to do so without preparation is to court madness. She ignored him.

She saw.

She saw the creation of the Amulet itself.

She saw a human battling Gumm-Gumms.

She saw the death of Blinkous Galadrigal.

She saw a strange creature, a hybrid of human and Trollkind.

She saw Draal the Destroyer bearing the Mantle.

She saw the bones of a human, encased within her Armour.

Deya saw what was. Deya saw what is. Deya saw what might one day be. 

Deya the Deliverer saw all and when she was done, she tore the Amulet off and begged the Wizard's forgiveness. To all those riding the train, I ask. Do you know what he did?

Merlin apologised to her. He explained that he did not withhold the information out of spite or capricious intent. He did it to spare his Champions of the terrible, overwhelming dread that comes with true Understanding. He does it to preserve their sanity.

The Omniscienstone does not show you what will happen. It shows you what may happen and it shows you all of it. We are given only a brief glimpse into the things Deya saw, the things that Merlin must see whenever he uses it and although he seems capable of predicting things with a high degree of certainty (presumably greater clarity does come with preparation), it is not always perfect. Not by a long way.

Merlin knew for centuries that a human would one day bear the Amulet. He knew that he would not always remain so. But what people seem to fail to understand is that he was expecting Jim to be older.

An older man would be far better suited to handling the transformation and the accompanying side effects. An older man would have had a chance to live his life.

But the fact that he was not an older man does not change things. Jim was the Trollhunter and the Trollhunter was needed. Only the Trollhunter could slay Gunmar and in doing so, aid in the defeat of Morgana and keeping the world from being cast into an eternal night.

I agree that Merlin was manipulative, that he stacked events very much in his favour and that he pressured Jim into using the potion. He used the ends to justify the means. But I would remind you that if he had not done so, Jim would have failed. I'm sorry, but it's true.

Every other time he went up against Gunmar, he barely survived. He defeated Angor Rot only through trickery and the aid of his friends. If Jim had not made that choice, he would have died. He may have killed Gunmar in the process, but he certainly would have died.

Merlin even went so far as to create armour for Toby and Claire, greatly increasing their own chances of survival, when he could have just as easily not.

I know that a great many of you (if a great many read this) will likely respond with arguments along the lines of "Yeah, but he destroyed Jim's Vesper to do it!" or "He's a total jerk, so fuck him!". To you, I say firstly that he didn't have any idea as to the emotional significance Jim ascribed to that moped and was merely working with what he had, under the very reasonable assumption that Jim would rather have living friends and secondly that just because he's a jerk doesn't mean he's wrong.

We're talking about a Wizard of immense power who predates mankind as a recognisable species and who has been battling evil longer than we have had language to describe it. He has seen countless conflicts and has more often than not come out on top.

You do not know better than Merlin. You cannot know better than Merlin.

I'm not asking you to love him, only to stop hating him. Given everything he knew about what was to come, everything he couldn't have known, this was the best he could do.

So, does anyone still want tickets?

[drmaqazi]

Ignorant attitudes, discontentment, Restlessness, dejection and dissatisfaction, such acts, generate completely the most negative approaches, which create differences among the body and the soul. At this stage, neither the medicine can cure this evil or disease nor any intellect, only with the blessing and mercy of Allah, we can get the real and complete cure. But first of all, we have to realize our status and we have to think deeply into our hearts. We have to Analysis to our sins, strong repentance and then extend apology. 'Allah' is the Most Merciful and Compassionate to his servants. When we apology on our sins 'Allah' will surely forgives us, but we have to apology with true hearts.

 Healing Power of Surah Ar-Rahman is a fact. Surah Ar-Rahman is the solution for all problems or diseases including depression, hypertension, diabetes and cancer. Ever since the creation of mankind, ages after ages, different mode to heal the ailing people had been in practice. But one mode of therapy remained alive in all ages and for all groups and segments whether it was in ancient times or the present-day modern age. This is spiritual therapy.

 For the followers of the Holy Prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him) and the Holy Quran, this mode is equally believed and trusted in modern age as in ancient times. One could not ignore the miraculous healing potential of the Holy Quran. 'It is not the Surah Ar-Rahman alone but there are other ayah-e-shifa. If we talk of Surah-e-Fateha, it has been described as Surah-e-Shifa. There are also five Ayah called as Ayah-e-Shifa.'

 The Holy Quran itself states that it has healing tendency for ailments and those researching in this divine book always came out with a different set of healing aspects to treat different diseases. Allah Almighty says in the Holy Quran, 'And we send down Quran which is a healing and mercy to the believers'. Although whole of this Holy Book has a healing impact, some of its Surah have more healing tendency if recited or listened in a scheme. Surah Al-Rahman is one of those valuable Surah or verses that provide a remedy to ailing believers.

 Healing Power of Surah Rahman is a fact. People suffering from any physical, mental, spiritual disease, they should listen Surah Ar-Rahman recited by Qari Abdul Basit Almisri (Without translation) 3 times daily for 7 consecutive days without skipping a day. They should listen the Surah Ar-Rahman with closed eyes. After listening the Surah Ar-Rahman take a glass of water, say 'Allah' three times in heart with closed eyes and drink the water with 3 sips. Surah Ar-Rahman has proved to be the best therapy for countless patients who had recovered from a number of deadly and complicated diseases with its long-lasting and powerful spiritual impact.

 Scientists and researchers across the globe are working to find out medicaments of different yet mysterious diseases, but they could not succeed to triumph over the entire mini-universe of the human body yet. Therefore, along with allopathic, homeopathic, psychological and Greek ways of cure, spiritual remedies are also being opted for treatment of complicated diseases. The rhythmic verses of the Surah Ar-Rahman had magical impact on the entire human biology as it provides internal peace to human heart, mind and soul for bringing unity to the function of the body.

 It also activates the cognitive faculties and belief system to get the patient emotionally connected to the creator of the universe. Thus it fills the soul with delightful feelings and mind with positive energy for bringing ultimate meaning to human life. The Holy Prophet Hazrat Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him), The Last Messenger of Allah Almighty said, everything has adoration and the adoration of the Holy Quran is Surah Ar-Rahman.

 The Holy Prophet Hazrat Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him), The Last Messenger of Allah Almighty said, 'Everything has adoration and the adoration of the Holy Quran is Surah Ar-Rahman.' This great Surah has three portions including the first one where Allah Almighty reveals about His creation till this portion reaches the verse 'All on earth has to end.' In the second portion, there is discussion about punishment to infidels and in the third portion the Creator talks about bounties to be showered on true believers in Jannah. It's beauty is hidden in its verse where Allah Almighty repeats again and again, 'O which of your Lord's bounties will you deny?' This same verse (ayat) is repeated 31 times in the 78-ayat Surah.

[art-now-germany]

Circle of life, Prasong Kantanee

Circle Of Life A cycle of four paintings reflecting my idea of the “Circle Of Life”, comprising the four stages: Birth, Adolescence, Death and Re-Birth. Since most of my paintings are about symbols so also in this work I like to combine objects which in each case become part of my stories. The combination of well-known images with everyday objects in my own interpretation is a constant and re-occurring feature of my work. I have chosen to create each of the four stages in a different epoch: Classic, Modern, Contemporary and Futuristic. The first stage: Birth For me, there is no other image in this world which better expresses the meaning of “Birth Of Mankind” than the most famous painting “Creation Of Man” by Michelangelo at the Sistine Chapel. Therefor I have integrated this image into my painting for the first stage of the “Circle Of Life”, the “Birth” as the first appearance of mankind. I do believe the life on earth is the result of a fortuitous incident in the universe where several necessary elements have come together in the right time , the right place, the suitable environment and, of course, been blessed with the touch of God’s kind hand. Unlike the original painting by Michelangelo, my work suggests that Men and Women have been created at the same time. Since in most societies Men are considered ( or consider themselves) as more important than Women I - as an irony - display God making Men on a luxurious grand piano while Women have to stay on the floor. Personally, I disagree with this concept since I worship Women even more as I adore my mother above all. The second stage: Adolescence The main idea behind this painting is corresponding to that of Christian Faith being “Expelled From Eden”. After we are born, we first learn from our parents how to speak, to eat, to feel, to think, to understand the value of life and how to behave socially. At a later stage we learn the more practical things that help us to survive in our society from school and other institutions: we observe, we study, we wonder, we imitate, we check out new things, we create, we invent, we work as a team, we assume our responsibilities to ourselves and to others, we do good, we sin and we play our role and part in society. We simply live our life as best as we can. The third stage: Leap Of Vanity / Death In this painting I capture the particular moment in which our soul leaves our body. In my belief, after we die, our souls float and are being elevated to heaven where we are meeting with God as he then will decide what our next life will be like. Whoever does good in this life will have a better next life, so I have been taught by my Buddhist upbringing. This painting equates funeral with atmosphere. The soul of the deceased is being given flowers as a Goodbye gift from our loved ones. Music is played at the funeral to help our souls to go to heaven in peace. There is nothing to be really sad about death because death is just a passage leading our souls to the next stage. Death frees our souls from our bodily pain and allows us to move on to another life, a new beginning. The fourth stage: Entering the Virgin Bath/ Re-Birth The idea of this image is not really new; I just re-interpret an old mythos called “The Virgin Bath”. In the ancient time, mankind believed that the Virgin Bath is a place where old and sick people enter a magical swimming pool and come out on the other side young and healthy again. But I take this belief a little bit further. When I see the painting “Der Jungbrunnen” by Lucas Cranach and consider the reality of life then I can see that there in fact is a real existing Virgin Bath. It is not a swimming pool like in the Old Masters paintings, but in reality it is our mother’s womb. The sequence of events in this painting works from right to left as re-incarnation itself is like a reverse event. Once again I portray a dead body and a soul that rises from it and then enters the bubble (heaven) where it can rest, transform and enter a new body – ready to be born again. This bubble is filled with fluid of life, our souls floating inside and receiving a new body. Once again, a re-birth takes place. The far left of the painting, I painted the young pregnant mother holding a double sand clock (symbol of eternity, a circle of life itself) and a child (Jesus kind from Raffaello Sanzio) standing near her. They are looking into each others eyes, he seeks a security and love from his mother and she is giving him a comfort and a mother´s love through her eyes. The mother and a child are the symbol of a new beginning. In conclusion, this bubble is nothing else but our mother’s womb: The Virgin Bath.

https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-Circle-of-life/64360/1332544/view