#nezarec final god of pain

[frozen-planet]

first time doodling him it's about time to be honest

[your-fave-in-heroforge]

Nezarec, the Final God of Pain from Destiny 2 has been Mini-fied!

Reference Art - Mini Link

[nathanielthetallone]

I'm just gonna ramble about act 2 of heresy real quick.

Firstly love the court of blades

It's fun, oryx calling my guardian King wonderful, being back in the ice caves of mars great, go back to where we did the light experiments with Asher mir on io all the way back in red war nice touchback and seems vaguely related, and sloane (and bungie) saying hey we know alot of you want to taken King ( it's me, I want to be Taken King)

It's just majestic, majestic majestic.

Also I have so many thoughts about the presence in the deep that's between the taken and Winnower. It could be something new which would be fantastic, but until then I'm gonna bet on some of the Nine, especially with the new court of blades Sidearm's lore tab.

I see people say it's our old friend Nezzy the final god of pain, which it could be. But I don't quite buy into that theory.

[pekinaso]

Extremely early designs of what I thought Nezarec would look like (before his official reveal nearly 1 year ago), designed sometime in late Summer/early Fall of 2022

I do feel like revisiting this design at some point in the future 👀

[a-vexually-transmitted-disease]

@daftpatience hey sorry this is out of nowhere but my friends and i are obsessed with digit and their siblings and I have no self control and i keep making little doodles of them hanging out with eldritch abominations beyond man’s understanding but like cutesy. My friend keeps sending me comics by Mr. Joshua on Twitter dot com and Bluesky and i keep parodying them. Thought you’d enjoy seeing your goobers be silly. Also made a little fan made goober with flowers growing from his little ears! He’s a florist!

[yuliciagaming]

[greeting nezarec, disciple of the witness and final god of pain as he's coming into the pub] nezzyyyyyy

[cryokina]

Nezarec, Final God of Pain

"He is that which is end. That which covets sin. The final god of pain—the purest light, the darkest hour. And He shall rise again." Passage from Of Hated Nezarec, a pre-Golden Age text

An ancient psionic nightmare, Nezarec's corpse lay dormant on Earth's moon for centuries. Even split into dozens of morbid relics by scavengers, each piece still radiated hate. His head was ultimately caught in a cosmic beam of growth and regeneration, refocusing his malevolence into a new body. While he was finally killed by Guardians in the Root of Nightmares raid, he has survived death before...

Nezarec was a challenge, to put it mildly. His body is a freshly-grown reddish hulk, studded with nail-like spines, with his older head grafted to the neck, a gigantic scythe over one shoulder, and fourteen shimmering tendrils sprouting like foul wings from his back. His scythe, Night Terror, was the worst part. It should actually be even bigger than it is, and it already stretches the limits of what Lego ball joints can support. He should have a ring of seven multicoloured eyes, which I've chosen to side-step by using the One Ring as they're far too small to show without a custom printed tile.

The tendrils on his back are a kind of milky, shimmery colour which is impossible to represent, so I've just used alternating shades of silver. You can make the connectors (62462) whichever colour you like, I've just used what I had available. I'm proud of the spiralling segments of the scythe. I came up with a method to let each segment sit one-eighth of a rotation along from the previous one.

Have fun building Nezarec, but don't let him get into your head... Instructions are available on my Rebrickable.

[sketchmatters]

Nezarec, the Final God of Pain! This one was really difficult due to all the different colors and elements I wanted to include, but I think it turned out alright!

[thorough-witness-enjoyer]

thoughts on nezarec .....

Greetings!!! I need him to keep his freaky hand feet away from me, I am so disturbed by them☺️!!!

But thank you for the message!!

To be completely honest, I think about Nezarec 24/7 just because of how intriguing the concept of his character is! Not only do I find his design to be very interesting and eye catching (I’m free tonight Nezarec), I’m forever in a perpetual state of hunger for lore about him!

You‘re telling me the Final God of Pain is a disciple of an entity who wishes to end all pain because he wants the „fullest gamut of existence“? How did he even get into the Witness‘ clutches and how did it justify having such a sadist as a disciple? What was the relationship between the two like?

He‘s from an unknown species, but can never truly die and was remade by the Witness‘ hands? Tell me more!! How does he possess such powers?!

I am so starved for Nezarec lore and I cannot WAIT to receive more once we start dealing with Misraaks‘ situation, hopefully getting his origins like we did Rhulk. I completely understand that he was not the main focus in Lightfall, but I’m climbing my walls at the fact that Bungie would release such a long awaited and theorized character just for us to have to wait so long for a follow up!!

Bungie drop more Collapse lore that focuses on Nezarec being killed and the Witness losing the Veil and my life is yours, I’m so hungry.

As for his personality, what a guy!!! I have a plethora of headcanons about him, but I like to imagine just how far his tendency to be a sadistic nuisance can go! I make him torture the Witness‘ patience in my head as karma for all it has done and I often wonder if he has an underlying philosophy to his actions! Maybe his love of pain and mastery of nightmares is related to the species he comes from, who knows!

Overall, freaky guy who should be even freakier and is in dire need of more lore! I love you Nezarec, stay freaky, and never improve as a person because you are so funny as is!

Also a little headcanon drop, I think Nez would be very fond of goats as I imagine he finds their horns to be charming (like his) and he often gets them as sacrifices from his human acolytes! In my head, he has a pet goat he treats as his baby (much to the dismay of the Witness who finds his sentimentality towards the thing frivolous)! I love making that guy do silly things.

Love the glasses and gold chain by the way.

[flowers-of-io]

Things I wrote (and posted) this year

My fic year in review, sorted chronologically! I'm quite proud of myself, I have to admit. I tried some new things this year and even if I wouldn't say there are many *masterpieces* on this list, I still appreciate how varied it is.

Here's to an even more diverse 2025!

the witnessed and the tricked

Rated T | prompt: Witness Me

Savathûn steals the Veil and feels really good about it. Nezarec dies like a loser. The Witness ignores all of this.

Savathûn laughed. She laughed so brightly and truly, her voice thundering like the sound of an avalanche approaching, rippling across space like magma rushing out of a volcano. Outside, the world was ending. The Deep had arrived to state its claim--oh, what a boring development, what a dull and wholly expected turn of events, and what a sorry display of ineptitude the Final God of Pain was making of himself, spluttering and wheezing at her feet. She kicked him in the face for good measure. He grasped weakly at her ankle, gargling out curses through a ruined throat, and tried dragging himself after her when she turned to leave, but the lack of two limbs and several vital organs prevented him from getting very far.

when do ghosts have nightmares

Rated T | 1016 words

Toland gets a taste of his own poison.

Eris asked him that once, not in a letter but a mournful scream sent drifting on the waves of the vast Sea. She must have been worlds away, because by the time they got to him the words had already built up and swollen into a deafening roar that crashed and swept him away like a ship amidst a rainstorm. He did not answer, and neither does he now.

a chorale, a double-stop

Rated T | 651 words | prompt: yesterday/today/tomorrow

Freaky Black Garden rarepair fic!

“I missed you,” she says. Radiolaria spills from her mouth.

Kabr cups the back of her head and brings their foreheads together.

“How come?” His voice is a song too, melting into her as their feet melt into the brook and dissolve into arc and sillica. “I’ve been gone for barely a minute.”

Dark Mirror, chapter 5: The Communion

Rated T

Accidental Best Friend Acquisition, Lucent Brood version.

“Aren’t Ghosts usually busy with looking for their Lightbearers, or something?”

The Ghost went quiet for a second, something about its cheery demeanour shifting.

“My Lightbearer is dead,” it said stiffly.

as grief is large among the grieving

Rated T | 1246

You know how in that D1 mission with Crota's funeral you can find Ir Yût in one of the towers? Yeah.

The Song becomes her. For one suspended moment she is bodiless, pervading, seeping through the air in tender wisps and passing through stone and skin and crystal—deep beneath, where the worm lies, where soulfire licks bone. The beauty of it, she’s always figured, the true beauty of the Song is that it knows no borders; that when sung right, it is all-encompassing, radiating like starlight across time and space until a will strong enough to smother it arises. The truest form of art: will channelled without shape or substance, intangible beyond the ruin it leaves in its wake.

Field Research

Rated G | 1274 words

The Crimson Days are upon us, and Eido is on that ethnology grind.

By some miracle, they found a table snuggled in the far corner of the room, under a fern in a hanging pot. Eido bumped her head against it as she sat down.

“There are many people here,” she remarked, rubbing at her forehead.

Brilliance, Brilliance

Rated G | 1187

The Lucent Court is celebrating. The yuri is toxic.

Through all her years of studying the Hive, Eris wouldn’t have thought they danced. Maybe it would have occurred to her earlier if she'd ever discussed it with Toland; he's always seen them as both more and less than she has, not only mindless beasts and not only gods. He would've said, of course they dance, they're a complex, highly advanced society, the kind that had built palaces and dreadnaughts before the Earth was even created. They have music and art and insanely complicated biotechnological mechanisms, philosophy and cuisine—why wouldn't they dance?

Notes of the Remembered, chapter 4: Pretences

Rated T

Mulled wine and not-confessions.

“I’ve told you before about how the Hive see death.” She gently rocked the mug and watched a slice of orange rise to the surface and ruin the image of the Traveler-less sky reflected in it. “Our mythoi are not so different, at the heart of it. The Hive believe soulfire is the immortal part of a person, the connection to the Sea of Screams, but unlike one’s Ascendant form, it can’t be destroyed so easily. Death is only and forever an ending, but the essence persists… Funny, when you think about it, that something endowed to us by the worm gods is at the core of our faith in the afterlife.”

Órthos

Rated G | 1846 words

Two old men talk about devotion.

Kuldax's eyes, gleaming and clever with age, narrowed under the brow of faded chitin. He was old, and he knew kings and their ways. Thus he spoke, “The Hellmouth is an empty husk. It is solely the vestige of the Deep that Xivu Arath wants it for.”

“Primarily, not solely,” the Warpriest corrected, for he too knew the ways of kings. “Through ruin and hunger you’ve remained faithful to the bladed path. She will reward that.”

“There is no mercy other than the mercy of death,” Kuldax said. “All else is debt and future boons. If it is ruin and hunger that shall claim us, then it must be so. But never again,” these words he spoke sternly, because he was old and not afraid of death, “will it be the whim of a Queen.”

unless you play it good and right

Rated G | 1729 words | prompt: kissing as encouragement

Happy zaiatl content before everything went to [LOUD BUZZER NOISE].

“Ha.” She said it flatly, but the edge of her fingernail dug into Zavala’s cheekbone and it was enough for his breathing to fall out of sync. Incredible—how easy it was, how the world around him suddenly shrunk down to just the two of them, and his vision turned sharp and hyper aware like on the battlefield. “I do not tend to braid love with politics, Commander. It is a ruthless game.”

“Indeed.” He tucked his face into her palm and pressed his lips against the thick line of the scar there.

XXXV

Rated G | 720 words

Xivu asks the useless question.

Shutting her out of her throne world, really now. She had an unfinished dice game with Haroktha. The flow of tribute shuts her parasite up, but there is still a cacophony of voices yelling in her head; worms her gods and the Deep Itself and her confused adjutants all screaming like thrall set on fire and asking how, HOW, how did she do it and how did you let it happen and how could you not see this coming. The constant noise blinds her almost as much as the pain does. It is harder to tune them out now that she is locked out from her own mind palace.

Dark Mirror, chapter 6: The Mirror

Rated T

A day in the life of a Lucent Brood Acolyte, rather (affectionate) than (derogatory).

Something glinted in the corner of his eye, and instinctively Dornuk turned to check on it. By the gate in the far distance, sunlight was reflecting off the heavily ornamented horns of a Wizard—Ascendant, judging by her height, clad in wormsilk and siver chains and a number of other utterly useless decorations that shimmered and tinkled. She was very diligently licking a column.

“Why,” he wondered aloud, rather than asking anyone in particular.

SHE SEES

Rated G | 253 words

A conversation about home and rebirth.

I have a vision. A brilliant garden. Vitreous strongholds built from osmium and Light. We will rise and meet the Traveler. We will save the Hive the way you said the Traveler saved us, the way it wants us to save it.

Come in Time, chapter 11: Temptation (part III)

Rated T

The end of love.

It was easy, following her. She was the needle of your compass always pointing north, a metronome steadying you when the world was all fury and noise, a razor blade cutting through your doubts and questions and fears until they were nothing but unambiguous truth. She knew what she wanted, and she wanted you by her side.

She is gorgeous even now, dark hair ruffled by the wind and gaze sharp like a shard of glass. She is all power, furious power—an archetype of godhood rather than a woman, an alien figure you have known for years but do not recognise, a house on fire with blown-out windows lit up by the blaze. You have never asked yourself, before, how it would feel to lose your way. You do now.

Come in Time, chapter 12: Evitable

Rated T

Rekkana attempts to explain the concept of chronomancy to a very unimpressed Tevis.

“So what you’re saying is you guys predicted Six Fronts in your sleep.”

“Technically yes.”

“Amazing. Why did the Consensus kick you out, again?” Tevis tilts counterclockwise and peers at her with his single, squinted eye. “Something about a vision of the Speaker becoming corrupted by the Darkness, and the plot to assassinate him?”

This Book Is Full of Lies, chapter 13: Reckless Oracle

Rated T

The team moves into the Scarlet Keep, Eris gets a cat, and Ór gets oneirologic torment.

“So, I guess this means the Daito rabbits and the spectral cats know each other,” Crow wonders aloud, half amused and half genuinely puzzled. “Do they... travel between Luna and the Dreaming City to visit each other? Or is there a separate plane of existence that they meet at, like an Ascendant Realm, but for little guys?”

“It is possible that the Awoken—oh,” Eris gasps when the cat leaps nimbly from the crate and onto her outstretched arm. It weights nothing. With careful paws it climbs up her forearm and shoulder and settles around the back of her neck like a scarf, purring softly. Gingerly, she raises a hand to rub it between the ears.

This Book Is Full of Lies, chapter 14: Leap

Rated T

Savathûn's Brood watches a choice being made.

Aiat! We are Her Brood, and our hearts are of Hers. In our minds we hold the substance of Her teachings and the anti-matter of Her lies. Aiat! The Deep has deceived us, and thus She has conquered the Deep, for She is the Queen of Deceit.

To be of Her Brood is to be entuannei: that is, to know the-space-between, to lie upon a truth until it changes its substance, until the only truth that remains is one which cannot be denied. Aiat! We are of Her, and our souls tremble with the fear of inexistence; we are of Her, and our hearts surge at the promise of life.

FEARS TO LIFE, chapter 1: i'm not going down with the rest of you

Rated T | 738 words

Toland knows what he will do after Crota.

"‘You’, hm." Eris crosses her arms. "Then it's true what Eriana says, that you don't plan to wage this battle alongside us."

"My path leads elsewhere."

"Deepward?"

"As ever."

Ikora Week 2024: Moment

Rated G | 301 words | prompt: memorable moments / wisdom

Ikora and Osiris reunite.

She has played this moment in her head hundreds of times. Curse her wandering mind, perhaps, or her bleeding heart; never once has it done her well to overthink, and there is nothing she has thought about more than the freeze-frame of Osiris on the steps of his jumpship, fifty-seven years, four months and twenty-two days ago.

Ikora Week 2024: Unexpected, Welcome

Rated T | 733 words | prompt: favourite ship / supernova

Asher hasn't used the Light since the accident.

Asher passes her a glance, then looks back down at his palm. His eyebrows are pulled together in a deep frown. Slowly, he brings his Vex hand up and cups it together with his good one. Ikora realises she is holding her breath, and wills herself to relax.

The air between his fingers swirls and then is sucked into itself as a tiny singularity begins to form. It is miniature and unstable, but it's there, eddying and tugging at the air around it greedily. Asher gasps, and she pretends she didn't hear it.

Come in Time, chapter 13: Convergence (part II)

Rated T

Alemyr and Praedyth converge in the Black Garden.

He says thickly, “Sometimes I want to go back so badly.”

Her arms curl around him in an embrace that smells like lavender and the Tower.

“You don’t have to.” He lets the tears fall and sink into the linen of her robe, darker spots on dark blue. “You are always there.”

you and me at the end of the world

Rated G | 3368 words | destinytober prompts

Stories from the Pale Heart and elsewhere.

the landing

Immaru doesn't care. Immaru escapes through the window and flies off into the night, and he doesn't care as he glides under the brilliant purple-blue expanse of the sky, and above the dark and angular landscape, and not even when he finally curls up in the palm of his Lightbearer, shivering and angry. He really could've gathered some intel while he was there. It's not like he'll be sending anyone out there to snoop around in the nearest future, anyway. He doesn't care.

the blooming

I can already hear you accusing me of overmetaphorising. There is no end of the world! The cosmos is infinite and Guardians make their own fate. Even the radiolaria in their little bronze caskets may soon have to make peace with this fact. This is the beauty of existence: it keeps going on, and on, aimlessly and for no reason other than it just does. Arte pro arte--but oh, what beautiful art it is indeed! We have always appreciated this majesty, me and her. You could say it was the love of life which brought us together. Would you believe that?

(You'd do well brushing up on your Symmetrist writings. The sword and the bomb share some very basic principles.)

the lost city

"Shouldn't you be takin' some time off, anyway?" A handwave, its shadow flickering over the table. "I'm sure our Hunter Vanguard there can manage on his own for a bit."

"I'm good."

"Oh come on." There is a longer beat of silence, distracting him enough that he moves on to the next report, and then words like a blinding grenade: "If it's about dealin' with grief, that ain't the way to do it."

the outskirts

"You know," he says, "that's not really what I pictured when I said he might find the greatest Guardian of all time."

"What, a prince of the Reef?"

"A Hunter Vanguard."

the refraction

—and he [wakes] in a place that is a time that he/they/he has never seen before. An emerald meadow. Flowers like blood. Sky with no ceiling, white rivers, glass plains echoing with a—

[Define: wakes. Sudden transition into alertness from a period of dormancy.]

—song on the [wind] like the sighs of a giant. Still. Everything is still when you [are] Vex, charting moments like points on a map and skipping between them without any movement at all. He breathes in—tastes salt—sees white and green and red and feels something electric trickle down from his nostrils.

the abscess

You took your vengeance, dead thing. You razed and killed. You took my friends and you took my Father and you took my children and you took pleasure in our suffering, over and over. Bathed the Shore in our blood.

It brought you glee, I'm sure. This destruction, this fury. Intoxicating. Your uncontrollable bloodlust, taken out on all held dear.

Dream No More

Rated G | 1437 words

Three travellers come to Hallownest.

For herself, she chose a chamber on one of the upper floors, small, but with a lovely view of the rain-drenched capital. Settling in the royal guesthouse next to King’s Station might’ve been the more obvious choice, but Hornet couldn’t bear the thought of entering it yet, not when she didn’t know if any of her mother’s things would still be there. The whole city was a minefield of memory, really; though while she’d previously dreaded the inevitable confrontation with the past once she’d have returned, now she found the experience overwhelmingly cathartic. She only cried once, in the gardens, when she saw Hollow nipping insistently at the overgrown hedgerow with a pair of rusted shears like it was the most normal thing in the world for them to do. She failed to explain it when they jumped up to her with great alarm, their single spidery hand patting her form to check if she was hurt.

Planetomachía

Rated G | 2235 words

Four gods duke it out with the Nine.

You know, my dear, in four thousand years they will still be telling this story. One most certainly cannot deny it grandeur, both in the setting and the circumstances—yes, yes, I know. It didn’t really change much, and there will have been so many greater battles since, but this is not how legends are made. A legend must be a good story, first and foremost. It must slide smoothly off the tongue. Fire and darkness, love and horror, blood and glory—this is what keeps a myth alive. Nobody cares if the war with the Taishibethi was in any way crucial to the Hive’s crusade; what they remember is Emperor Raven splitting open a war moon, this one bright moment of power and gore caught in a frame. It did not save the Tai from extinction—but it is still remembered, still passed on between generations, millenia down the line.

[exhaling-dust]

The Primordial Truth of Everything

—-Disciple.—- It utters into his mind. —-Why have you waited for us?—- “Should I not, my dear Witness?” Nezarec flourishes back, his teeth bright for its watch. “I want to give you a gift for all your lessons and blessed handiwork.” Even kilometers afar, its eyes narrow and its ego bloats.

nezarec/the witness, 3,876 words, rated E: dead dove + erotica. read it here on AO3, or have a snippet of it:

Under the crimson sun, an Acolyte Tirnean hovers beside their master whose colorful tendrils hide beneath a mantle of Darkness. Narai, their collective name, is the one Nezarec has found invested in commissioning a mythological poem—a gift, if he muses, for the eventful night which shall come earlier in his patience: a celebration of the second god to ever dive in these Ahktirnean sands and oceans, promising hope and knowledge to the fraught and orphaned. There is no need for their uprising from their environment, but Nezarec enjoys their sacrifice; it’s a sweet tidbit for his teeth. 

A nearing Ahkan colossus sights him with narrow broad shoulders. She should understand better of Nezarec’s intentions than to judge a different shape of ambition.

“Terror-evoke,” Narai relays dryly and voice pained, “do we have permission to ask?”

“I have never once said otherwise,” Nezarec says with great humor, “what is your doubt?”

Narai stops in their pace, exhaustion wearing them useless. The colossus approaches and is paused by the Acolyte’s demand. 

“Who is that which drives you to benevolence upon Ahktir, whom you name as ‘Witness’?” 

Nezarec leans his enormous height towards the Tirnean and smiles with bare teeth. He resumes his steps towards the vast limitations between sand and rocks, dragging his follower to quell a small, easy-fading hunger. “It is a beautiful thing far beyond the knowledge of your kind, my Acolyte. In time, you may know it. Perhaps even face it closely.”

A cold sun has never let the second sky be safe again once the Pyramid arrived. Amidst the vast sandscape, its overbearing geometrical shape is far alien from the columns of stone and glass. Unfortunate are those who cross it by reasons of fate and find only a harrowing, crushing terror in their brain, etched forever. 

Nezarec oversees the great Ahktirnean canyons. In the mountains afar, white and crystalline for the mere eye to see, a great beast uprises from sand and into existence under the cold sun’s light, and its empty eyes find Nezarec in the sharp distance. 

—-Disciple.—- It utters into his mind. —-Why have you waited for us?—-

“Should I not, my dear Witness?” Nezarec flourishes back, his teeth bright for its watch. “I want to give you a gift for all your lessons and blessed handiwork.”

Even kilometers afar, its eyes narrow and its ego bloats. 

The Witness sprints towards the Pyramid in a velocity no feline can match. A cloud of tempestuous smoke with senseless faces trails the path behind and renounces: another god has landed in Ahktir; a quieter, insincere, and far more terrible than Terror-evoke himself. Those who see are unfortunate—they will always carry the myth of its soundbreaking race as an ill omen moments before a tragedy or the complete fall of their civilization. However, Nezarec is awed. He was heard. 

What a spectacle it is—to have it running to his feet! The Final God of Pain observes with pure glee his creator stepping at the beginning of the Pyramid and hiking its sleek surface with a thousand claws, its ascension vicious to what it waits between the clouds.

The Pyramid permits its entrance as one weapon obeys its blacksmith’s will, and so the Witness disappears from Nezarec’s sight. He grins, turns on his feet, and relishes the exhilaration of its pressure in his presence—the same empty eyes in the darkness observe Nezarec’s intentions before his changed, more fashioned shape, and judgment… always persist. If only it had not a layer of malice neatly embroidered in its unbreath.

—-Speak.—-

“Don’t you prefer to ask about my plans within this planet, or belittle me as you often do?”

—-Speak, Disciple.—-

“I see,” Nezarec says amused, and paces to the nearest bowl of sour beans. Plucks one with mouth; wraps a seed around his tongue. “What do you prefer first: the Ahktirneans’ precise method to foresee where the Traveler hides now, or what was its last whisper for them?”

The Witness narrows its gaze. Closest to a flicker. Relays nothing; expects Nezarec to act his job.

Yet Nezarec refuses, savoring this small failure in its perfect projection, a crack he can pry at. 

Is in the lack of answers that it presents itself: four-legged, four-armed, a thorned tail resembling its prior serpentine form, and clouds where its collective conveys not a single memory from the past. Its shape fibrillates in small pieces of an unending puzzle, though much of it looks smooth and touchable. Dire in its eyes, the Witness is taller than the Final God of Pain with all his tendrils behind the mantle. Divine in its posture for total certainty, yet not a deity: only a petty creature wounded. 

He approaches it without care for his own form dismantling under its familiar pressure. 

“My Witness,” he starts, “I recognize myself to not be your most perfect creation. I do, truly. But I also can’t whisk away the fragility in your stare. What is it that burdens you?” 

Its stance hardens, incapable of understanding where this tone surfaced from. 

—-We do not have time for debauchery. The seeds you have planted now bear fruits, yet do you cultivate that which you started?—-

“I thought you would focus on important matters. Last time I tried, you burned them into ashes and left me starving as a punishment for the crime of indulgence. Are you finally proud of what I have achieved?” Nezarec eats the rest of the beans, one by one before its silence. “Hm, it doesn't matter, then. If it’s this people’s knowledge you seek, then I have found something precious.”

The Witness stops pacing, so does Nezarec. 

“I know you will kill me for this blasphemy, but they are such a mirror of what you were, my love.”

It paces forth to him, its height imperious and defying and its hands reaching out to his chest. Strings pulled—the puppet in its mercy. 

—-Be succinct.—-

“No—undoing me again? Does it not tire you?”

—-Prevent repetition in failure and we preserve your unstill shape. Prevent failure, and your matters may not fall in our palms.—-

Nezarec’s flesh slices in fillets as he holds the Witness’ wrist with tenderness. 

“I respect your impatience, but I think you are the one thwarting your own plans.” He brushes two thumb bones in its sleek surface and tugs the Witness into himself. “Could you give me a vow of trust and let me show what is the secret hidden within this civilization?” 

The Witness stares at his audacity, though his sincerity is not coated in irony. Nezarec means what he says—he only cannot help the mock from sliding out and into this world they inhabit. 

It pulls its hands out, leaving its Disciple’s insides scrambled but carcass intact for the first time. Nezarec finds it flattering. Means its ire has quelled in the face of his devotion|obedience.

[mikothehunter]

GUARDIANS, LET ME DEVOUR YOUR FEAR ✨

Root Raid Special - Nezarec's Fear Fried Rice, limited time only!

One of my usual raid teammates joked that they were going to go hop up and break Nezzy out of his takeout box, and I've always thought this final god of pain was a little obsessed with food metaphors. I feel like he'd choose fried rice - little bits of fear, freshly harvested screams, some scrambled hatred, seasoned with a sprinkle of temporary corporeal freedom... - Miko, now a bit hungry

[0my-witness0]

Nezarec, Final God of Pain.

[sailorasuka]

Nezarec, the Final God of Pain :3

[telestoapologist]

scary thin g just happened. i got invited to farm vog with someone who i thought was a friend (I FORGOT HIS NAME WASN'T NEZAREC FINAL GOD OF PAIN FOR SOME REASON????) and i got put in a group full of people i DID NOT KNOW besides inviter, and it dawned on me that. oh shit. this is not them. i don't know what to do. vc is also not working. and i had to run 😭

[trcvelers-chcsen]

Anonymous asked:

Nightmare Scenario: No mere nightmare stands before you. This isn't the moon. Not a dream. Not some twisted imitation. Fae are standing before you. After all this time since it happened. You are face to face again with Set. How? What cosmic stars aligning fuckery happened to put your paths in front of each other again? It doesn't matter. Only that it has. You can't just run from this. Can't avoid it like you could going back there.

MINDGAMES OF NEZAREC

"Oh, yeah... something that'll DEFINITELY happen. Next I'm sure you'll suggest Xivu Arath crawled back out of whatever pit she's licking her wounds in and wants to be best fucking friends."

You can deflect it with humor and sarcasm. Run from it like you run from every problem you can't just shoot, or stab, or blow up. But it doesn't change one fact.

You watched your friends, your allies, face down their deepest fears, regrets, and traumas. You fought alongside them. Helped them overcome it all to become stronger. You even slew the Final God of Pain Himself, when He emerged on the Black Fleet.

Yet you never faced your OWN regrets.

You RAN from a familiar face, just to avoid the pain. Refused to allow your comrades to aid you, as you did them.

You just didn't want them to see your shame.

The Great and Powerful Young Wolf, Hero of the Red War, Slayer Baron, God Killer, afraid to be seen as vulnerable.

Keep hiding behind your delusions.

I'm sure they'll serve you well when your past comes back to haunt you. :)

8/10