#obey me chapter 31

[devildomwriter]

“Your butler does take his job seriously, doesn’t he Diavolo?”

“Well, no more so than your Chihuahua, right?”

“Ahaha! You have a point.”

— Simeon and Diavolo (Chapter 31-16 H)

[sussysatann]

‼️‼️Solmare will no longer be updating Obey Me! & Obey Me! Nightbringer. ‼️‼️

They will release the final Nightbringer chapter and final app content this December.

Text reads as follows:

“Dear Denizens,

Thank you for playing and supporting Obey Me! and Obey Me! Nightbringer.

We would like to inform you of an important notice regarding the future of the games looking forward to 2025.

As Obey Me! celebrates its fifth anniversary and we continue to work to grow the series outside of the games, we have had to make the difficult decision to make December be our final new content for the Obey Me! and Obey Me! Nightbringer apps.

In addition to events, Chapter 60 will also bring to a close the story of Obey Me! Nightbringer.

From January 2025, we will be transitioning to a new era in Obey Me! with new forms of content, in-person events and merchandise that will all further the world of Obey Me!. The cards and stories you have obtained in both will remain available to you, and past events will continue to be periodically re-released.

We have exciting plans for the future of the series and hope that you will stay tuned for upcoming announcements.

All of us here on the Obey Me! team would like to extend our deepest thanks to everyone who has been with us since day one, who sought comfort in Obey Me! during the pandemic, who came out to see us at in-person events, who tuned in to the anime, Otaku FM, Boys in the House and character songs, and who joined us on this crazy journey from Obey Me! Nightbringer.

We promise you that this will not be the end of the seven brothers, the Devildom, or of Obey Me!

Keep an eye out for our full December event schedule which will be posted in-game and on social media shortly to see everything we have planned for the end of 2024.

Again, from the bottom of our hearts, thank you.

We'll see you back in the Devildom again soon - The Obey Me! team”

They also released a second statement relating to the announcement;

The text reads as follows;

“Thank you for enjoying Obey Me! Nightbringer.

We are sure that the previous news likely came as quite a shock, however, in order for you to fully enjoy December with the brothers, and all of the demons, angels, sorcerers, and reapers; we're bringing you the schedule of upcoming events.

We've got lots prepared, so we hope with all of our hearts that you will enjoy them.

•December Event Schedule

December 1 - December 31

Thank you all for supporting Obey Me! Nightbringer.”

[corazondebeskar-reads]

you know you never stood a chance - chapter three

you know you never stood a chance series

three: cover up where you've been

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

qz!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Joel catches you working at the brothel again and decides to do something about it.

Warnings: qz!Joel comes with his own warning, Joel is mean/bad at feelings, protective Joel, look he's a complicated man ok, prostitution (we support sex workers in this house), dub-con, free use but it's dub-con due to the power imbalance, spanking, one (1) pussy spank, unprotected p in v

Originally written for Kinktober 2023 - Day 31: Free Choice (Free Use), Prompts from this list by @absurdthirst, who I would like to thank for inspiring me to write again for the first time in literal years.

also on ao3

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Joel is snarling before you even realize who has come through the door.

You scramble back on the bed at the sound of a man yelling. Your brain doesn’t register him, only a steady siren telling you to make yourself as small as possible.

He doesn’t see it for what it is, only sees you back in this fucking motel room in a pink robe. “I don’t like repeatin’ myself, girl. I told you not to come back here. Then I hear it from Jenkins that you’re down here whoring yourself out?”

“Joel, I—” you start to whisper from where you’re sitting against the headboard, knees drawn to your chest.

“I don’t want to fuckin’ hear it,” he says. “Get over here, face down, ass up.” When you don’t move right away, he snaps his fingers. “Now.”

You flinch at his tone but obey, positioning yourself the way he had put you the last time you met him here.

With your face buried in the mattress, you can only hear as he unbuckles his belt. His hand cracks down on your ass, and you yelp, lurching forward.

“Ya wanna be a whore? Fine,” he says. He spits into his hand and strokes his cock before shoving it into your cunt.

It’s too much. You’re too dry, and he’s too big. But you don’t protest more than a sharp cry, weaving your fingers into the sheet and holding on like it was strong enough to hold you back.

“Fuck, you’re tight, princess. Not getting a lot of business?”

You don’t bother with an answer; he doesn’t really want one.

He pulls almost all the way out and adjusts his grip on your hips before slamming all the way in. You bite your lip, but his cock forces a scream from you, anyway.

He sets a ravaged pace, nothing like he’s done to you before. Tears burn down your cheeks, but you stay silent, stay pliant.

Apparently, that’s not what he wants. He slaps your ass again, bringing his hand down until you can’t hold back any longer, a wretched sob tearing free.

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted to be treated like a fuckin’ whore.”

“Joel, please.”

He pulls out and flips you onto your back before thrusting back in. You cover your face with your hands, unable to bear looking up at him through the tears.

“This what you do with all the men who come in here to use your cunt? You hide and cry until it’s over?”

“No, please.”

“Please what? You want me to touch you?”

You nod, finding that you do. Even though you hate this. Even though this isn’t the way he fucks you, isn’t the way he takes his retribution. Maybe if he touches you, it’ll hurt less.

His hand reaches between you to rub at your clit. It doesn’t last; he doesn’t get a reaction. You just take it but can’t seem to feel it.

“Stop fuckin’ hiding from me,” he says, wrenching your hands from your face by the wrists.

He freezes, cock buried to the hilt, both wrists still wrapped in the bulk of his hands.

“What happened?”

“What do you think happened?” you mutter, turning your head to the side, taking your blackened right eye out of his direct line of sight.

He moves to hold both wrists in one hand, bringing the other up to turn your face back toward him.

You wrench your chin away from his hand, which he brings up to scrub over his face, sighing and shaking his head.

“I warned you, darlin’, the creeps that have to come here to find a girl aren’t going to be nice to ya.”

You glare up at him, trying to keep your mouth shut. You paid him back; you owe him nothing. Not even an explanation. Especially not an explanation.

“Just get what you paid for and get out, Miller.” It’s soft, strained. Your throat is still sore, as is practically everything else.

“You were bein’ such a good girl. Comin’ to me when you needed something, not lettin’ yourself get beat and used for a pittance.”

The tears have subsided, now, but the humiliation stings anew. “She left.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“My sister. She left. That FEDRA creep she’s with got a transfer, and she went with him.”

“You’re kiddin’ me. After the shit you went through takin’ care of her?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say, fingers twisting the bunched up sheets.

“You shoulda come to me first, instead of comin’ here.” He knows, though. His knuckles trace the curve of your cheek under the bruising. Double the rent wasn’t something you could fix with pills or ration cards. He pulls out and tucks his still-hard cock back into his jeans.

“The fuck are you doing?” It’s easy to let the embarrassment turn to anger.

“Get dressed; we’re leavin’.”

“Like hell we are. I don’t want your fuckin’ pity, Miller. Take what you came here for and get out.”

“I plan on it, princess. I just ain’t doin’ it here. Get your shit, and let’s go.”

You scowl. It would feel better to argue, but you have a feeling it isn’t going to get you anywhere. You don’t have to go with him. But you already know you will.

So you pull on your hoodie and sweatpants, resigned to following him. The walk back only takes fifteen minutes, but it’s the longest, quietest fifteen minutes of your life.

On the fourth floor landing, you automatically turn to go down the hall to his apartment, but Joel keeps going. You have to double back and jog to catch up with him by the fifth floor. Your brain still hasn’t caught up when you stop outside your door.

You must take a second too long for him because he sighs and plunges a hand into your sweater pocket, only for it to emerge seconds later with your key in its grasp. He unlocks your apartment, and you follow.

Grabbing your backpack from the floor by the entrance, he moves about the apartment, shoving things in with little consideration. You stand in the middle of the living room, the sight of Joel in your space not making sense.

“Go on, I ain’t packin’ your clothes and shit,” he says like you’re supposed to know what’s going on. He stands up straight and puts a hand on his hip. ”What?”

“What are you doing?”

“Well, you sure as shit can’t stay here, sweetheart. If you don’t get your things now, they’ll just keep ‘em.”

When he finishes ransacking your kitchen and living room, he comes in to find you staring into the bathroom mirror.

“Your couch is nicer than mine, I’ll come back for it tomorrow,” he says before stopping in the door frame. “What’re you just standing there for?”

You hadn’t seen it yet. The bruise. Your eye. It’s shaken something loose like phlegm from your lungs. You reach a hand up to it and gently prod at the discoloration.

“It’s not that bad. I got a cream you can put on it,” Joel shifts his weight from one leg to the other, leaning back a little. The tight set of your lips makes him think you might cry, which he doesn’t know what to do with. “Hurry up,” he says, instead, and leaves the room.

His words sink in a few moments later. You go out to find him puttering around in the kitchen, making himself lunch.

“What do you mean you’ll come back for my couch?”

“S’nicer than mine. We can trade the old one for somethin’ else.”

“That clears up nothing, thank you.”

“What?” he says through a mouthful of sandwich.

You slump into the metal folding chair that sits at your tiny, two-top table and bury your face in your hands for a minute. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Not much to it. Ya can’t stay here, obviously. You won’t make it on the streets. I got the room, so.” He shrugs and takes another bite, like it’s really that simple to him.

“I can’t owe you that much, Joel.”

He sets down his sandwich right on the countertop, though you can’t remember when you’ve had time to clean it last, and crosses the whole three steps to the other side of the kitchen. With two curled fingers, he lifts your chin to look at him.

“Ya ain’t gonna owe me, sweetheart. S’just gonna be that much easier for me to take my payment, y’know? You keep your job, and when I’m home, you’re mine.”

You swallow and nod, a wave of nausea threatening to spill.

“What’s got you lookin’ all scared? It’s a better deal than you were getting at the whorehouse.”

He’s not wrong. It’s a much, much better deal. So you nod, and stand up, knocking the chair back with a clunk against the table. You make a bag of sorts out of your blanket and stuff your clothes into it.

You stare at your sister’s bed, stripped bare. She won’t know where to find me, you think. But you know she won’t even look.

Joel makes room for your meager belongings, but you don’t get time to unpack. Pent up from stopping halfway at the motel, he shows you exactly how he means to get his payment when he pushes you down across the bathroom counter and tugs your pants down so they pool around your ankles.

His cock slides in a little easier this time, though not by much. But this time, when his fingers find your clit, you moan. Now that you’re not afraid, you can appreciate just how good he is at manipulating your body.

He’s got one foot on the toilet seat, thrusting up into you. His other hand curls around to cup your tit, thumb flicking against your nipple. He moans when you reward his efforts by clamping down around his cock.

“There’s a good girl,” he says, pinching at it so you gasp and tighten again. “See? So much easier than that fuckin’ brothel. All you gotta do is take whatever I give ya, whenever I want.”

You nod against the cold laminate, tilting your hips so he can slide in just a little deeper. He pushes in enough to hit just right so you can topple over the edge to your climax.

He groans and works you through it. “Give me another one, I’m not gonna last,” he says, doubling his efforts. It doesn’t take much, and you jerk against him. He drops your breast in favor of pushing your shoulder blades down as he pulls out and cums on your ass, beads rolling down your thighs.

“Atta girl,” he says with a slap to your cunt as he turns and leaves the room.

next chapter

[seospicybin]

TASTE PREVIEW.

CHAPTER V: TENDER.

Lee Know x reader. (s,a)

Synopsis: When Minho is hired as the head chef of Farfalle, a prestigious Italian restaurant, expectations are high for him to elevate its reputation and bring it to new heights. However, no one anticipates the drastic changes he implements in the kitchen—including his strict rule that that there'll be no women and no romance in his kitchen.

This is a preview for chapter V of Taste series. Full fic will be posted this Friday, January 31.

...

“Chef?”

Minho hums in acknowledgment, and you wait until he meets your gaze before asking, “Are you the chef right now, or are you just Minho?”

The corner of his mouth lifts into a teasing smirk. “Which one would you prefer?”

You glance around, gesturing to the empty surroundings. “This isn’t the kitchen or anything.”

Minho raises a brow, his tone dry. “There are still people around who haven’t left work yet.”

You pout again, your lips jutting out in that same way that makes something tighten in his chest. “Then when do you stop being the chef and just become Minho?”

He smirks, leaning slightly closer. “What’s wrong with the chef? Don’t you like him?”

You sigh dramatically and mumble. “I hate the chef. He scolded me all day long.”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “What about you? Is this my line cook, or just you?”

“Just me,” you mutter, though your eyes dart nervously around.

“If it’s just you then why are you sitting so far away from me?” He asks, one corner of his mouth raises higher than the other.

“But people could still see us like this,” you say as you crane your neck to spot any prying eyes.

Minho shrugs and calmly responds. “We’re in an open space. No one would suspect anything.”

You glance at him, then the empty surroundings, before scooting closer. You both exchange playful glances at each other until you break into a series of giggles, light and sweet, and for a moment, Minho feels the weight of the day lift. Your warmth draws him in, and he considers, just briefly, risking everything by kissing you.

But the moment shatters as Chris appears at the top of the steps, his expression far too cheerful. He squeezes himself between you and Minho, blatantly ignoring the latter’s glare as he takes your hand.

“You've finished your work today,” Chris begins, his tone warm. “I’ll give you a ride home. Let's go.”

Your gaze flickers to Minho, seeking his reaction, but Chris notices. “It’s past working hours, Chef,” Chris says pointedly to Minho. “Surely, she’s allowed to leave.”

Minho exhales sharply, locking eyes with you. “It’s up to you,” he says cryptically, his voice unreadable.

Confused by his cryptic response, you hesitate, but Chris barrels on. “I know it’s not allowed for kitchen staff to date each other,” he muses aloud, “but hall staff and kitchen staff? That’s a different story, right?”

Chris grins slyly, his words grating on Minho’s nerves. “I personally think the restaurant should be a happy place, don’t you think? Love, friendship—it’s all fine by me.”

Minho’s patience snaps. “What are your intentions with her?” he asks bluntly, his tone sharp.

Chris meets his gaze with an infuriating calmness. “Anything,” he replies smoothly.

The audacity makes Minho’s blood boil, but he reins himself in. “Go inside,” he orders you curtly.

You hesitate but obey, and Minho waits until he hears the sound of the door slamming shut behind you before talking again.

Minho turns back to Chris, his eyes blazing. “I know why you’re doing this. You like her, don't you?”

Chris doesn’t deny it, his calm stare unflinching. “That’s right. I like her.”

It's not a rocket science to figure it out, Chris' treatment toward you tells it all and Minho can tell the difference between favoritism at workplace and romantic feelings.

“How long were you planning to keep it a secret?” Minho boldly asks him.

Chris smirks and puts on a coy smile. “I'm not going to love cowardly like you do, Chef. It's difficult to just watch and support her now. Thanks to you.”

The words hit like a punch, and Minho scoffs, masking the sting.

Chris shrugs, his tone casual. “The secret ends now. I'm going to tell her.” He announces before walking off, leaving Minho stewing in his frustration.

You return a moment later, your expression hesitant as you sit beside him again. “What did you two talk about?”

Minho tilts his head, exhaling sharply before leaning toward you. “Good news,” he says with a wry smile.

You perk up slightly. “What is it?”

“There’s a guy who likes you,” he teases, watching your reaction carefully.

Your brows furrow. “Why are you telling me this?”

“To give you confidence,” he replies smoothly. “Who knows? Maybe he’s a better person than me.”

You chuckle, leaning closer. “I have good news for you too.”

“Yeah?” Minho asks, playing along.

You lean in close to whisper it to him. “There’s a girl who likes you.”

Minho takes it with a coy smile. “Is she pretty?”

You nod with a grin. “Very.”

“Good to know,” he quips, smirking.

“What about the guy who likes me?” you ask, feigning curiosity. “Is he rich?”

“Very,” Minho deadpans.

Your delighted gasp turns into laughter, and Minho finds himself laughing too, though a bitter ache lingers beneath his amusement.

How is it fair? he wonders as the laughter fades. Chris will have the freedom to treat you well, to show his feelings openly. And Minho? He’s trapped, forced to keep scolding you in the kitchen while his own feelings remain locked away.

...

Check TASTE MASTERLIST for more!

[th30sstuff]

TRYING TO UNDERSTAND OBEY ME SEASON 1 TIME PASSING

All lesson 1 happens in 1 night

Lesson 2

- Day 1: 2.2-2.8

- Day 2: 2.10-2.15

The time between lesson 2 and 3 is not specified but seems to be around a week

Lesson 3 & Lesson 4

- Day 1: 3.2-3.10

- Day 2: 3.12-4.15(also the beginning of the next day)

- Day 3: 4.15-5.4

It's not exactly specified how much time has passed during the "Day 3" tbh(the day after climbing the stairs and the night that Beel destroys our room) so you can add a couple of days in between :D

Also, how many time has passed when we visit Belphegor in the end of lesson 5.4 after getting set in Beel's room is not specified so you can consider it the night after(??)

Lesson 5

Everything that happens during 5.7 and 5.10 is not exactly specified but it seems to be around 3 or 4 days :)

Though the end of 5.10 connects directly with the beginning of 5.12

5.12-5.17 all happens in 24h, beginning at night and ending the night after.

Lesson 6

- Day 1: 5.20-6.10

- Day 2: 6.12-6.15

The time in between 6.17 and 6.19 is not specified but I think it's a day.

Lesson 7 & Lesson 8

Everything that happens in between lesson 7 and 8 happens in exactly three days, since it's the Demon castle sleepover(I forgot how it was called)

- Lesson 9 happens in the morning right after

Lesson 9

- Day 1: 9.2-9.12

- Day 2: 9.12-9.20 Diavolo mentions Lucifer has a big speech in two days

Lesson 10 & Lesson 11

- MC probably hasn't sleep for 2 days now btw

- (Neither did I doing this<3)

11.2 Lucifer mentions his big speech is tomorrow, probably still the night after the game thing.

No time is specified in between lesson 11 and 12, but it's definitely more than a day since the speech was given.

Lessons 12, 13, 14, 15 & 16(this is a nightmare)

- 12.2-16.19 all happens without a pause, though it probably happens in a night to the morning, there's no way it all happened in less than 6 hours I like to think the dinner happened around 19:30 and the whole "You're gonna time travel now" happened around 4 in the morning

But since we went back in time it ends at like, 2 AM???? IDK IT DOESN'T MATTER, BUT IT'S AROUND 2 DAYS

No time is specified between lesson 16 and 17 BUT PLEASE GIVE IT A GOOD COUPLE OF WEEKS BEFORE BELPHIE GO BACK TO SCHOOL AND MC IS COMFORTABLE ENOUGH TO BE IN THE SAME ROOM AS HIM

Lesson 17 & Lesson 18

I gave up on counting each chapter of a lesson, but everything in between lesson 17 and 18 is around a month and ends at October 31(Dia's Bday)

Lesson 19 & Lesson 20

I feel like since the entirety of these lessons are about saying goodbye, it's already December, so November was completely skipped???

[anadrym]

Extended Author's Notes for Left Behind Ch2.

Spoilers!

I just want to clarify in case anyone is concerned: there will be NO non-con in this fic. It will be discussed/suggested but it will NOT happen, I promise.

Chapter title is from "What Have They Done to Us" from the Arcane S2 soundtrack.

I never specify where Caitlyn is living now in the chapter because it doesn't really matter and I didn't put a lot of thought into it, to be honest. It's a smaller city just inside Demacia's borders.

Caitlyn has been kinda bouncing around since the Purge. There are probably still people keeping an eye out for her (after all, they never found her body), so she's doing her best to stay under the radar. After all, it only takes one wrong person recognizing her… ;)

I made Caitlyn a bounty hunter for several reasons: 1. it's hot, 2. it fits into her established skill set as a detective and sniper, 3. it gives her a reason to return to Piltover.

I'm not overly fond of OCs; personally, I read and write fics because I love the existing characters. That said, I absolutely love Petra. She's a bitch with a heart of gold, and she's totally looking out for Caitlyn and giving her shit about it the whole time.

Caitlyn is 30 now (and Vi is 31). That means her joints pop all the time. Write what you know.

"You can call me whatever you like" is kind of a reference to the brothel scene in season 1.

Oh, I love this transition. Cait goes to bed in comfort/pleasure and Vi wakes up in pain.

I've said it before, but I'll keep saying it: this was originally going to be a "Vi gets Winter-Soldiered" fic, but it kinda turned into a "Vi gets feebleminded" fic with winter-soldier elements.

I am so pleased with the imagery of fearful panic being a rat clawing around inside your chest. I just find it so visceral, and it really feeds into the idea that Vi is torn between human thoughts (actively being surpressed) and animal instincts, and that both are overpowered by the drugs they're keeping her on.

We're going to delve more into Maintenance and what it entails later. Just know that it involves injections and is very… unpleasant.

Number 6 is absolutely to keep her from questioning her tattoo. Not that she's got the mental strength to do that right now.

Ah, the Baroness. Several of you guessed correctly: our villain is Renata Glasc. I'm going to be completely honest, everything I know about her is from her wiki page. So she may be wildly out of character. Hopefully you will find her compelling either way.

I actually wrote out a lot of the conversation between the Baroness and her guests, but scrapped it because Vi wouldn't understand it so soon after a Maintenance session. It ended up being obsolete anyway.

The Baroness calls Vi to this meeting for two reasons: 1. Vi is well-known as Sheriff Caitlyn Kiramman's partner, and having her is an absolute display of power and control. If the Baroness can force HER to obey, what chance does anyone else have? 2. There's a sort of sadistic element to it. The Baroness likes being able to control Vi, to force her to kneel at her feet for hours, to make someone powerful submit.

"There is a soft creak of old hinges as the door swings open, and something like displeasure flickers in her master's eyes." - the Baroness is displeased about the squeaky hinges. When she leaves, she tells the guy to oil them. :D

I actually tried kneeling like this for a while so I could accurately write about it and it fucking hurts if you do it for a while on a hard floor. 0/10, do not recommend.

Tobias' ring! Vi had it in her pocket when she got shot and, while she doesn't remember whose it was or how she got it, she knows it's important. She also uses it to anchor herself and to force herself to focus (you'll see).

The average man's ring size (9) is two sizes larger than the average woman's (7), and should fit a woman's thumb. Convenient!

[irisbleufic]

Part 11 of Caldera; 3 out of 7 chapters are now posted. New Year's Eve on Night Island; the coven makes their Atlantic crossing; trouble is waiting in Armand's townhouse in Paris.

New York (2024-08-31)

Miami (2024-08-31)

Atlantic Crossing (NEW, 2024-09-02)

TEASER:

Armand finds the front door open, something he hadn’t ordered his human staff to do in preparation for their arrival. They walk into the receiving room where the electric fireplace is on, and Daniel can tell from Armand’s expression that it hadn’t been one of the things he’s just willed into illumination.

“Stay behind me,” Armand says in hushed alarm, pushing Daniel behind him even as the fledglings immediately obey. “Show yourself!”

From the shadows of the hall leading into another part of the house, Marius emerges with that fucking infuriating, serene expression on his face. He’s followed by a vampire with long red hair whose petite build and delicate facial features bear striking resemblance to Jesse.

Daniel steps from behind Armand, putting himself between Marius and the other interloper, whose identity he’s sure he’s sussed out, and Armand. He’s co-leader of their coven, dammit, so he might as well make himself useful given chances of Armand melting down are high.

“I’m gonna have to stop you right there,” Daniel says before Marius can open his mouth to speak. “You? Get the hell out.”

[talonabraxas]

1. Had! The manifestation of Nuit.

2. The unveiling of the company of heaven.

3. Every man and every woman is a star.

4. Every number is infinite; there is no difference.

5. Help me, o warrior lord of Thebes, in my unveiling before the Children of men!

6. Be thou Hadit, my secret centre, my heart & my tongue!

7. Behold! it is revealed by Aiwass the minister of Hoor-paar-kraat.

8. The Khabs is in the Khu, not the Khu in the Khabs.

9. Worship then the Khabs, and behold my light shed over you!

10. Let my servants be few & secret: they shall rule the many & the known.

11. These are fools that men adore; both their Gods & their men are fools.

12. Come forth, o children, under the stars, & take your fill of love!

13. I am above you and in you. My ecstasy is in yours. My joy is to see your joy.

14. Above, the gemmed azure is

The naked splendour of Nuit;

She bends in ecstasy to kiss

The secret ardours of Hadit.

The winged globe, the starry blue,

Are mine, O Ankh-af-na-khonsu!

15. Now ye shall know that the chosen priest & apostle of infinite space is the prince-priest the Beast; and in his woman called the Scarlet Woman is all power given. They shall gather my children into their fold: they shall bring the glory of the stars into the hearts of men.

16. For he is ever a sun, and she a moon. But to him is the winged secret flame, and to her the stooping starlight.

17. But ye are not so chosen.

18. Burn upon their brows, o splendrous serpent!

19. O azure-lidded woman, bend upon them!

20. The key of the rituals is in the secret word which I have given unto him.

21. With the God & the Adorer I am nothing: they do not see me. They are as upon the earth; I am Heaven, and there is no other God than me, and my lord Hadit.

22. Now, therefore, I am known to ye by my name Nuit, and to him by a secret name which I will give him when at last he knoweth me. Since I am Infinite Space, and the Infinite Stars thereof, do ye also thus. Bind nothing! Let there be no difference made among you between any one thing & any other thing; for thereby there cometh hurt.

23. But whoso availeth in this, let him be the chief of all!

24. I am Nuit, and my word is six and fifty.

25. Divide, add, multiply, and understand.

26. Then saith the prophet and slave of the beauteous one: Who am I, and what shall be the sign? So she answered him, bendingdown, a lambent flame of blue, all-touching, all penetrant, her lovely hands upon the black earth, & her lithe body arched for love, and her soft feet not hurting the little flowers: Thou knowest! And the sign shall be my ecstasy, the consciousness of the continuity of existence, the omnipresence of my body.

27. Then the priest answered & said unto the Queen of Space, kissing her lovely brows, and the dew of her light bathing his whole body in a sweet-smelling perfume of sweat: O Nuit, continuous one of Heaven, let it be ever thus; that men speak not of Thee as One but as None; and let them speak not of thee at all, since thou art continuous!

28. None, breathed the light, faint & faery, of the stars, and two.

29. For I am divided for love's sake, for the chance of union.

30. This is the creation of the world, that the pain of division is as nothing, and the joy of dissolution all.

31. For these fools of men and their woes care not thou at all! They feel little; what is, is balanced by weak joys; but ye are my chosen ones.

32. Obey my prophet! follow out the ordeals of my knowledge! seek me only! Then the joys of my love will redeem ye from all pain. This is so: I swear it by the vault of my body; by my sacred heart and tongue; by all I can give, by all I desire of ye all.

33. Then the priest fell into a deep trance or swoon, & said unto the Queen of Heaven; Write unto us the ordeals; write unto us the rituals; write unto us the law!

34. But she said: the ordeals I write not: the rituals shall be half known and half concealed: the Law is for all.

35. This that thou writest is the threefold book of Law.

36. My scribe Ankh-af-na-khonsu, the priest of the princes, shall not in one letter change this book; but lest there be folly, he shall comment thereupon by the wisdom of Ra-Hoor-Khuit.

37. Also the mantras and spells; the obeah and the wanga; the work of the wand and the work of the sword; these he shall learn and teach.

38. He must teach; but he may make severe the ordeals.

39. The word of the Law is THELEMA.

40. Who calls us Thelemites will do no wrong, if he look but close into the word. For there are therein Three Grades, the Hermit, and the Lover, and the man of Earth. Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

41. The word of Sin is Restriction. O man! refuse not thy wife, if she will! O lover, if thou wilt, depart! There is no bond that can unite the divided but love: all else is a curse. Accursed! Accursed be it to the aeons! Hell.

42. Let it be that state of manyhood bound and loathing. So with thy all; thou hast no right but to do thy will.

43. Do that, and no other shall say nay.

44. For pure will, unassuaged of purpose, delivered from the lust of result, is every way perfect.

45. The Perfect and the Perfect are one Perfect and not two; nay, are none!

46. Nothing is a secret key of this law. Sixty-one the Jews call it; I call it eight, eighty, four hundred & eighteen.

47. But they have the half: unite by thine art so that all disappear.

48. My prophet is a fool with his one, one, one; are not they the Ox, and none by the Book?

49. Abrogate are all rituals, all ordeals, all words and signs. Ra-Hoor-Khuit hath taken his seat in the East at the Equinox of the Gods; and let Asar be with Isa, who also are one. But they are not of me. Let Asar be the adorant, Isa the sufferer; Hoor in his secret name and splendour is the Lord initiating.

50. There is a word to say about the Hierophantic task. Behold! there are three ordeals in one, and it may be given in three ways. The gross must pass through fire; let the fine be tried in intellect, and the lofty chosen ones in the highest. Thus ye have star & star, system & system; let not one know well the other!

51. There are four gates to one palace; the floor of that palace is of silver and gold; lapis lazuli & jasper are there; and all rare scents; jasmine & rose, and the emblems of death. Let him enter in turn or at once the four gates; let him stand on the floor of the palace. Will he not sink? Amn. Ho! warrior, if thy servant sink? But there are means and means. Be goodly therefore: dress ye all in fine apparel; eat rich foods and drink sweet wines and wines that foam! Also, take your fill and will of love as ye will, when, where and with whom ye will! But always unto me.

52. If this be not aright; if ye confound the space-marks, saying: They are one; or saying, They are many; if the ritual be not ever unto me: then expect the direful judgments of Ra Hoor Khuit!

53. This shall regenerate the world, the little world my sister, my heart & my tongue, unto whom I send this kiss. Also, o scribe and prophet, though thou be of the princes, it shall not assuage thee nor absolve thee. But ecstasy be thine and joy of earth: ever To me! To me!

54. Change not as much as the style of a letter; for behold! thou, o prophet, shalt not behold all these mysteries hidden therein.

55. The child of thy bowels, he shall behold them.

56. Expect him not from the East, nor from the West; for from no expected house cometh that child. Aum! All words are sacred and all prophets true; save only that they understand a little; solve the first half of the equation, leave the second unattacked. But thou hast all in the clear light, and some, though not all, in the dark.

57. Invoke me under my stars! Love is the law, love under will. Nor let the fools mistake love; for there are love and love. There is the dove, and there is the serpent. Choose ye well! He, my prophet, hath chosen, knowing the law of the fortress, and the great mystery of the House of God.

All these old letters of my Book are aright; but [Tzaddi] is not the Star. This also is secret: my prophet shall reveal it to the wise.

58. I give unimaginable joys on earth: certainty, not faith, while in life, upon death; peace unutterable, rest, ecstasy; nor do I demand aught in sacrifice.

59. My incense is of resinous woods & gums; and there is no blood therein: because of my hair the trees of Eternity.

60. My number is 11, as all their numbers who are of us. The Five Pointed Star, with a Circle in the Middle, & the circle is Red. My colour is black to the blind, but the blue & gold are seen of the seeing. Also I have asecret glory for them that love me.

61. But to love me is better than all things: if under the night stars in the desert thou presently burnest mine incense before me, invoking me with a pure heart, and the Serpent flame therein, thou shalt come a little to lie in my bosom. For one kiss wilt thou then be willing to give all; but whoso gives one particle of dust shall lose all in that hour. Ye shall gather goods and store of women and spices; ye shall wear rich jewels; ye shall exceed the nations of the earth in spendour & pride; but always in the love of me, and so shall ye come to my joy. I charge you earnestly to come before me in a single robe, and covered with a rich headdress. I love you! I yearn to you! Pale or purple, veiled or voluptuous, I who am all pleasure and purple, and drunkenness of the innermost sense, desire you. Put on the wings, and arouse the coiled splendour within you: come unto me!

62. At all my meetings with you shall the priestess say -- and her eyes shall burn with desire as she stands bare and rejoicing in my secret temple -- To me! To me! calling forth the flame of the hearts of all in her love-chant.

63. Sing the rapturous love-song unto me! Burn to me perfumes! Wear to me jewels! Drink to me, for I love you! I love you!

64. I am the blue-lidded daughter of Sunset; I am the naked brilliance of the voluptuous night-sky.

65. To me! To me!

66. The Manifestation of Nuit is at an end.

Nuit, Egyptian Star Goddess by Talon Abraxas

[another-lost-mc]

The Fall masterlist

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Main Pairing: Azra x Metatron

Series Content + Warnings: The Metatron Falls AU. Strangers to Lovers; Angst with a Happy Ending. Intimacy and explicit sexual content. Complicated relationships. Violence, injury/blood and minor character deaths. Canon cast and other OCs present/mentioned. Time Skips/POV Changes. So much worldbuilding. Major themes include: spiritual doubt/guilt, class/power dynamics and imbalance, prejudice, dubious morality. Each chapter will have its own relevant warnings.

Spotify Playlists: Vocal // Instrumental

Part I: HOW VILLAINS ARE MADE

1. Unusual You 2. Something More 3. Before Sunset 4. Heavenly 5. Disturbances 6. Burdens to Bear 7. A Rock and a Hard Place 8. Judgement

Part II: THE OTHER SIDE

9. Impact 10. Friends in High Places 11. Planting Roots 12. Becoming Azra 13. Lust and Envy 14. Death by a Thousand Cuts 15. Rearranged 16. The Status Quo 17. Familiar Faces 18. Accomplice (Zee's Interlude) 19. Warning Signs 20. Consequences (Solomon's Interlude) 21. A Conversation Long Overdue

Part III: A POEM FOR BYZANTIUM

22. Grave Mistakes 23. Nothing Else Matters 24. The Road to Perdition 25. Counting Sins (Azra's Interlude) 26. Far Away 27. Royal Academy of Diavolo 28. The Middleman 29. Times Change 30. Returning

Part IV: IS YOUR LOVE STRONG ENOUGH?

31. Once More, With Feeling 32. Reunions 33. Slow and Steady 34. New Tricks 35. The Fall 36. Penance 37. The Demon Lord's Castle 38. After You 39. Moments in History

Epilogue: WELCOME TO THE DEVILDOM

Read More: OC Masterlist | Obey Me! Masterlist

[devildomwriter]

“You angels never divulge anything about yourselves…or about the Celestial Realm. And yet you’re constantly inserting yourselves into Devildom business.”

— Diavolo about the Celestial Realm to Simeon (Chapter 31-16 H)

[discar]

HZD Terraforming Base-001 Text Communications Network

Chapter 31 | Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index

Document.Letter.odt

Created: 23 days ago

Edited: 87 times

Last edited: 5 minutes ago

To Mother

To War-Chief Sona

To Mother [stick with the more personal tone]

I found The Anointed Aloy [she knows Aloy doesn't like being called that] deep in the Forbidden West. She believes that the secret to stopping the Red Blight, and perhaps even ending the Derangement, is here. We have settled into an Old Ones base [even with our Seeker blessings, that will make her uncomfortable] a permanent camp in the mountains. It is safe here. We have numerous allies, including Erend, the Oseram Vanguard. Sun-King Avad has implied his support. [that's confusing, and she wouldn't care anyway]

You're going to be a grandmother! [too light]

I met a girl. [too flippant]

One of those allies is an Utaru woman named Zo, who defied her leaders to fight the Red Raids. [don't bring up defying elders] She is intelligent and compassionate. [mother won't care] I am going to bring her back to the Embrace eventually. I think you'll like her.

[should this be part of the previous part?] There is also a Tenakth soldier named Kotallo who seems interested in our tales of battle against the Carja, and a woman from a new tribe, from across the sea [too confusing] and a lorekeeper named Alva from a distant tribe. Alva is very interested in our stories and customs, but is careful to ask me how to ask for permission to enter our holy sites [sounds bad] and I'm sure she will have much to speak to the Matriarchs about.

These new enemies we're facing, mother, these Zeniths... it's hard to describe them. They are immortal [she won't believe it] They bear the sins of the Old Ones [too fanciful] They have new machines that obey their commands, worse than the Eclipse cultists and their dark corruptors. Sometimes I'm not sure how we are surviving against one or two at a time, and they have hundreds. Aloy is a terror in combat. We have a plan, but it's all so beyond me. I'm not sure it will actually work. Not because I doubt Aloy or the others, just because it relies so much on things I am only now learning. GAIA [don't try to explain GAIA] The All-Mother says [makes me sound like a prophet] Our allies believe this will work, and I have to trust them.

Aloy has a sister [too flippant] The Zeniths made their own Anointed [confusing and blasphemy] The Zeniths had a captive. We managed to rescue her, and I've managed to get through to her, but she's scared and she's been alone her entire life. She reminds me of Aloy, but not in the good ways. She's smarter than the rest of us put together, but she doesn't know what to do with it and has no practical skills. She can't even sew up her own clothes. She hides in her room most of the time. Aloy has been talking to her, and sometimes it helps but sometimes it makes things worse. It's like watching someone yell at their reflection. [don't reference clones] They're too alike. I'm trying to get her to step out of the Base camp to see the sunrise, but it's hard. I think she's scared of not having a ceiling over her head. She always sleeps in, too.

There's a lot to see, outside the Embrace. New people, new machines I couldn't have even imagined. It's not like the Matriarchs say, all cursed heathens. [too aggressive, don't contradict the Matriarchs] It's beautiful, but frightening too. I wish you could see it, even though you'd hate it. [probably too much]

I hope this letter finds you well.

Your son, Varl.

[GAIA said she can print this out, but I think I should copy it out by hand]

[maybe I should just delete this, I'm probably going to be the one going to Nora lands anyway]

Chapter 31 | Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index

[allegraforchrist]

I finished reading Deuteronomy, and I’m truly grateful that God has given me the determination to finish the first 5 books, and begin my Bible study over again.

What really stood out to me throughout Deuteronomy, was the elaborate covenants, promises, and curses God commanded through Moses to speak to the Israelites. In chapter 28, God lists 14 blessings to obeying Him and keeping His laws and commands, and 72 curses for disobeying Him and going on your own way. And the funniest but significant part of it all, is in Chapter 32, when God tells Moses that Israel will disobey Him once they go into the promised land. God knows they will worship false-gods, and be greedy, and promiscuous, and blameless: yet He still gives the commandments and laws to them, because He loves Israel. He loves his people. He has set them apart, on His covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. He even set Joshua aside to lead this generation of God’s people, who were constantly bickering, complaining, and distrusting the Lord. He chose Joshua for prophetic inheritance, laid on by Moses.

God knew who these people were, and Moses described them in Chapter 31, as “what rebels they are, stubborn, willful…” and God still allowed them (the next generation after 40 years) to know they can thrive and live abundantly in the land of Canaan, if they love God with all their hearts. He left them with evidence, with documents of His commandments, curses and promises. He told Moses to teach them the Song in Chapter 32.

God performs miracles, and signs, and wonders, and terrible curses on the enemies of Israel; but God was not hesitating on reminding them, that just as He liberated them, He can hand them over to their enemies. And that’s why the Israelites do to themselves, they hand themselves over to the curses and wrath of nations who wanted to kill them - why? Because they abandoned God, and God never left them, He looked the other way. He knew He was going to be as hurt and angered with them, told in Chapter 32, like in the Books of Exodus, Leviticus and Numbers: and still He loves them.

What I took away was the complexity and heart of God’s covenants. He fulfills covenants with love, and commands, but it is the heart of His people, He also knows, who will not fulfill the covenants as He desires. He saved Israel, and spared Israel, with His Grace; and only Moses, could return the favor because He knew God as friends know each other. And Moses failed as well, He struck the rock instead of speaking to it, completely disregarding the faith he should’ve demonstrated in God.

God knows the hearts of His people, yet He also knows the failures of His people. He doesn’t let them go astray without showing that there’s a choice: you follow and obey, and act on my commandments and promises, you know the blessings I will provide. You disobey, and choose to disregard the Lord your God, who has redeemed you, you know the curses that will fall on you and your children.

I want to go into more detail but I think I’ve summarized what I mostly grasp on the surface level of Deuteronomy and the 5 Books of Moses. I cannot wait to study further and see what the Rhema of the Word will reveal to me, more deeply and spiritually.

[saltoftheearth5x2]

Luke 17

Over the 24 days leading up to Christmas, I'm going to be posting a chapter of Luke every day. I encourage you to read through Luke's gospel and reflect on Jesus's time here on earth. Perhaps you'll find something new.

Masterlist

Luke 17 (NIV)

Sin, Faith, Duty

Jesus said to his disciples: “Things that cause people to stumble are bound to come, but woe to anyone through whom they come. 2 It would be better for them to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied around their neck than to cause one of these little ones to stumble. 3 So watch yourselves.

“If your brother or sister sins against you, rebuke them; and if they repent, forgive them. 4 Even if they sin against you seven times in a day and seven times come back to you saying ‘I repent,’ you must forgive them.”

5 The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!”

7 “Suppose one of you has a servant plowing or looking after the sheep. Will he say to the servant when he comes in from the field, ‘Come along now and sit down to eat’? 8 Won’t he rather say, ‘Prepare my supper, get yourself ready and wait on me while I eat and drink; after that you may eat and drink’? 9 Will he thank the servant because he did what he was told to do? 10 So you also, when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty.’”

6 He replied, “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it will obey you.

Jesus Heals Ten Men With Leprosy

11 Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. 12 As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance 13 and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!”

14 When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed.

17 Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? 18 Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” 19 Then he said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.”

15 One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. 16 He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan.

The Coming of the Kingdom of God

20 Once, on being asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, Jesus replied, “The coming of the kingdom of God is not something that can be observed, 21 nor will people say, ‘Here it is,’ or ‘There it is,’ because the kingdom of God is in your midst.”

22 Then he said to his disciples, “The time is coming when you will long to see one of the days of the Son of Man, but you will not see it. 23 People will tell you, ‘There he is!’ or ‘Here he is!’ Do not go running off after them. 24 For the Son of Man in his day will be like the lightning, which flashes and lights up the sky from one end to the other. 25 But first he must suffer many things and be rejected by this generation.

26 “Just as it was in the days of Noah, so also will it be in the days of the Son of Man. 27 People were eating, drinking, marrying and being given in marriage up to the day Noah entered the ark. Then the flood came and destroyed them all.

28 “It was the same in the days of Lot. People were eating and drinking, buying and selling, planting and building. 29 But the day Lot left Sodom, fire and sulfur rained down from heaven and destroyed them all.

30 “It will be just like this on the day the Son of Man is revealed. 31 On that day no one who is on the housetop, with possessions inside, should go down to get them. Likewise, no one in the field should go back for anything. 32 Remember Lot’s wife! 33 Whoever tries to keep their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life will preserve it. 34 I tell you, on that night two people will be in one bed; one will be taken and the other left. 35 Two women will be grinding grain together; one will be taken and the other left.” [36]

37 “Where, Lord?” they asked.

He replied, “Where there is a dead body, there the vultures will gather.”

...

All of this was taken from the Bible Gateway, which is an online Bible that you can easily search up. For those of you who do not have Bibles of your own, I encourage you to use online resources like Bible Gateway to read God's word.

Happy Holidays!

If you have any questions regarding the Christian faith, please ask me in my ask box. I am not a perfect person, but I will try and answer your questions as best as I can. We all have much more to learn, myself included. So please, do not be shy.

[juggalomary]

Hey pookies I’m back. After about a month of no chapter four I finally finished it. I technically could’ve continued this on but I want the chapter count higher. Anyways it’s midterm week until Friday the 28th so I will be a bit inactive (even more). Without further ado chapter 4 of who is this kid!!!!

Warning! This chapter has violence, attempted suicide, panic attacks, and brief nondescript vomit, take care and message me if I missed anything!

Ringing in the new year does not mean tinnitus from bombs and guns going off without proper ear protection, but 1 cannot complain as he is still alive. He can’t wait to go back to the compound, he misses the relative quiet of it all. December 31, 2024 his orders were to execute a commander working in the American CIA. Her name was Laswell, they got the intel from a man that macarov trusted just enough to believe. So here 1 sat in the edge of a neighboring building to a luxury hotel that the party was being held, his sniper resting gently on his shoulder and the rubber shavings starting to dig into his chest.

He sat for another hour before the target came into view, a middle aged huge woman with blonde hair hanging around with some brunette of her same age. He focused in on her, leveling the crosshairs with the base if her skull. He waited for a second, hoping she would step fully in front of the window. After three minutes of her not moving he finally decided to take the shot. He ran the risk of it not going and hitting it’s mark, but in reality that was low.

His fingers tightened on the trigger and he re-readied his aim. As his shot was about to go off someone from deeper inside the room tackled her to the ground. He cursed to himself, of course the glare of his fucking sight gave him up. He thinks about trying a different angle and getting her from there but a set of footsteps behind him had him whipping around.

A 6’4 behemoth of a man with a fucking skull on his face muttered something, probably about the damn rubber and how you can’t sneak around on it. He stopped and whipped his gum out when he saw 1 trying to find a way onto the buildings fire escape.

“Hey arsehole, SAS hands where I can see them!” He shouted, the voice he recalled from an earlier mission he was sent in to blow a bank up. He did not obey, capture was not an option, suicide before capture.

Within that mindset 1 crawled over to the edge and let himself fall off of it. He fell,for only a second before he hit something and suddenly couldn’t breathe. He felt blood drip down his back as he sat up, attempting to catch his breath. Upon further investigation he realized he just landed on the balcony of some horrified family’s apartment. He landed on the cold metal and smashed a, (just his luck) cactus in a terracotta pot.

His head was bleeding and there was definitely a crack in his hip. He could feel his heartbeat through his entire body. The was a definite boot thumping sound coming from the inner hallway of the building.

He hobbled to a standing position he groaned and broke in the glass door. Realizing his mistake as the tall man breaks in the front door in and sees him. As the both realize that 1 is not getting out of this, 1 dives into the floor between his legs and pops up behind him in the kitchen, big ass knife in hand.

As the commotion ensues a middle aged man comes out with a shotgun from one of the bedrooms. The tall man shoos him off with just a glare. In this time 1 took it upon himself to slit his wrists. Suicide before capture.

He couldn’t feel his hand. He could already feel the blood dripping down towards his elbow. Hie tried to grab the knife when he saw the tall man turn around to face him but his hand wouldn’t move. He fought hard against his body but couldn’t. He had sliced his tendon in half. He let his knees buckle and his head hit the cabinet.

The tall man was on him in a second, shouting into his comms and holding his hand over 1’s wrists. He caught a decent amount of the conversation coming from the tall man before he passed out. He had evaded capture, Makarov would be proud.

——————

He came to for the first time in the medical helicopter. He woke up screaming and thrashing, he didn’t form any coherent words, or at least any that could be translated by someone around him. He was sedated again when he nearly flipped the backboard he was on over with him strapped to it.

He woke up slightly, eyes and motor function not working but he could hear. He was in some sort of building now, there was no helicopter blades screamingly loud in his already damaged eardrums. He heard the tall man from New Years speaking to some gruff man with a scouse accent.

“I hated the damn thing, got shit from the brass about regulation. Kind of missing the ugly thing now.” The gruff man said. He didn’t want to know what he was talking about, clearly regulations were broken and therefore he had to be punished. It’s not like he could avoid it, he was a prisoner to an unknown army.

“I kind of miss when he wasn’t a suicidal maniac who let me call him Johnny. Now that you mention it though he does look like an egg.” The man from New Years quipped back. Who were they talking about, who was Johnny, and how has he never seen him before. He’s gone against this group two times and has never seen a Mohawk, and that’s something he was sure he would if remembered. He listened for a few more minutes before he was to exhausted to listen any more. He fell back asleep for three more days.

——————

Five days in he woke up fully. A younger man in a baseball cap sat next to him, asleep and snoring lightly. He didn’t attempt to wake him up, that would get him a beating.

He found himself barefoot and not covered with a blanket, instead restrained and in just a hospital gown. The skin (could it be considered that if it’s just scar tissue?) was tight and sore. The air conditioning was in high and blowing right on him. He had no time to get back into his body before he was screaming, he could take most any kind of torture, but the cold room as he called it was the worst. Old wounds would become tight and sore, and he was almost always left unable to walk because whatever wet skin was on the floor would freeze to the concrete and rip his skin when he was stood.

This was the first time he had been tied down, maybe he wasn’t supposed to be injured. As he fought up against the restraints he felt a pop and then throbbing pain in his wrist.

He fought more and more, he could feel warmth spreading throughout his wrist. He couldn’t hear anything other than his own labored breathing and the sound of air whooshing. Distantly someone was screaming, not completely unusual, definitely not something that would freak him out.

He was writhing, trying to get out of there, he was in so much pain already, but it wouldn’t be much help as a strangely warm hand fell on his chest. He instinctively shouted some Gaelic and Russian mixed insults and thrashed even harder. The hand stayed for a second before hastily removing his restraint in his good arm. He went to grab 1’s hand and put it in his pulse point, but when he grabbed it he got punched in the head.

1 was now shouting desperately and trying to find his way out, the world was blurring and blackening at the edges. As his hand tried to grab something he hit a IV pole and knocked it over. That proceeded to rip out a NG tube they had stuffed in his nose to try to start reversing the malnutrition. He gagged at the sensation and threw up onto his lap as the nurses and security burst in. He was laid back down and restrained again. When he couldn’t vocalize that he was panicking because he was getting tortured in the cold room they sedated him, “for his own good”.

[malachiexists13]

SYNOPSIS: When Eria is taken from her own home and brought to a strange 'realm' as an "Exchange Student", she thinks it's all a sick joke. Until things around her begin to make less and less sense, it's hard to keep convincing herself that the shadows are empty claims and that this is just a sick game. Unbeknownst to her, in the human realm, Cove is desperate in his search to find her. To bring her home. Will Cove find and bring his best friend home safely, or will Eria succumb to the madness that threatens her every breath?

STARTED/ENDED: Dec.22.2024 (STARTED) - Ongoing

DISCLAIMER: This is a rewrite fanfic of the Obey Me storyline. My intention is to not show any disrespect to the developers or claim my version is better. I am simply taking the storyline as "prompts" and rewriting it in my style, as well as fixing some aspects that I either didn't like or didn't make sense and filling gaps with headcanons. You do not have to read if you don't like this idea! This is all for fun.

SPOILER WARNING: Contains spoilers for the first 20 Lessons (Hard + Normal Mode) of Obey Me: One Master to Rule Them All!

CHARACTER FILES: Coming Soon

POINT OF VIEW KEY: ❄️ - Eria || 🌊 - Cove || 💤 - Belphegor ||

👑 - Diavolo ||

//CW: Yelling, Threats of Violence,

CHAPTERS:

0. "PROLOGUE" [AO3 Link] (👑 -> 💤)

1. "Welcome to Your Fate" [AO3 Link] (❄️)

2. "Mammon, the Avatar of Greed" [AO3 Link] (❄️)

3. "Gone?" [AO3 Link] (🌊)

4. to be determined

5. to be determined

6. to be determined

7. to be determined

8. to be determined

9. to be determined

10. to be determined

11. to be determined

12. to be determined

13. to be determined

14. to be determined

15. to be determined

16. to be determined

17. to be determined

18. to be determined

19. to be determined

20. to be determined

21. to be determined

22. to be determined

23. to be determined

24. to be determined

25. to be determined

26. to be determined

27. to be determined

28. to be determined

29. to be determined

30. to be determined

31. to be determined

32. to be determined

33. to be determined

34. to be determined

35. to be determined

36. to be determined

37. to be determined

38. to be determined

39. to be determined

40. to be determined

41. to be determined

42. to be determined

43. EPILOGUE

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

Leave a comment or message me if you'd like to be added!

TAG LIST: @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf

[whump-me]

Conquest, Chapter 31: Victory

Chapter 31 of Conquest, a novel-length fantasy whump story about a timid royal clerk captured by the disgraced prince who needs their help to rule their newly conquered country. This series is best read in order. Masterpost here.

Contains: fantasy setting, nonbinary whumpee, male whumper, broken whumpee, defiant whumpee, royal whumper, reluctant whumper, multiple whumpers, major character death

---

Miranelis

When Kezul paused for so long during his speech, Miranelis knew why. Like the coward he was, he needed time to get up the nerve to enact the betrayal he had no doubt staged this whole thing for. And like the coward he was, in the end he would go through with it, no matter how little he wanted to.

He would tell himself it was necessary. Or that he had no choice. Or maybe that, in the end, it was the best possible fate for Danelor. Miranelis didn’t care overly much what kind of logic he used to justify his cowardice. All they cared about was that it was coming, and that there was no way to stop it.

They were standing unbound, not even forced to kneel. It didn’t matter, because there was nothing they could do. No doubt that was why Kezul and his father had not insisted on showcasing their degradation with chains or a humiliating posture. No doubt it amused them to have Miranelis standing here as if they were free.

But they were wrong. They had underestimated Miranelis. They didn’t understand a crucial part of what they had done to him when they had taken away their fear.

They no longer cared whether they lived or died. And Kezul was standing mere feet away.

Ever since the Wolves had first brought them out here, they had crept a little closer to Kezul whenever no one was looking their way. Whenever no one was looking their way, they had crept closer. They didn’t think anyone had noticed—except Kezul, once. And Kezul hadn’t said anything. He had been too busy visibly squirming at the sight of them. And then—again, like the coward he was—he had looked away.

But then Kezul broke his silence. And like the rest of the crowd, Miranelis was startled into stillness.

When the Unmaker finally ended that stillness, Miranelis listened to his speech with half an ear. The Unmaker’s voice, their very presence, demanded attention—but like the fear of death, it seemed to have no pull over Miranelis anymore. Their eyes were on Kezul. On the resolute look in his eyes, gradually turning to doubt too late, after his decision had already been made. Miranelis had thought it was no longer shocking to them to see emotion spelled out so plainly on the faces of grown adults, but it was shocking to see this emotion from these Wolves. Could it be they were unhappy with the Unmaker’s orders?

If so, it didn’t matter. They obeyed anyway.

Kezul wasn’t fighting. That surprised Miranelis at first, even though of course Kezul had no chance—they had stripped him of his weapons, and even with a sword in his hand, he would have been no match for the Wolves. But, in the next second, as they looked into Kezul’s face, they realized they shouldn’t have been surprised that Kezul hadn’t even tried. They recognized that look. That frozen helplessness. It was the same thing that held them in place on these steps, more thoroughly than any chains could.

But for Miranelis, that helplessness had been an illusion they had let the others believe. They had been ready to act, before Kezul had turned everything on its head. Kezul could break through the illusion, too, if only he could see it for what it was. He could…

What? What could he do, unarmed against an army of Wolves?

What could Miranelis do, except stand here and watch this horrible scene play out?

A moment ago, they had been ready to kill Kezul themselves. Now their stomach twisted into a painful knot at the thought of watching Kezul die.

“Bring him to me,” the Unmaker ordered. The Wolves holding him hesitated—unless that was Miranelis’s imagination, or a product of the way time seemed to have suddenly slowed down.

Kezul’s hands balled into fists. He didn’t try to break free.

In the end, it was Kezul who moved first, taking one step after another toward his father. It was if he couldn’t stop himself from moving. As if his father exerted some kind of pull on him that kept him walking forward, even as his face showed his reluctance.

And then, as Kezul stopped in front of his father with his reluctant Wolves gripping his arms, he took a breath. He smoothed the emotion from his face. After that, his face showed no reluctance. It showed nothing.

“Make him kneel,” the Unmaker said, eyeing his son the same way he had looked at Miranelis in the throne room the first day they had met.

“You don’t have to,” Kezul said quietly. His voice revealed as little as his face did. “I’ll do it myself.” In fact, he was already moving, dropping to his knees as slowly as if time itself had thickened around him. It was as if his body was moving on its own. Watching him, Miranelis couldn’t be sure he was consciously doing it. From his voice, it sounded more as if he was watching himself move, like he was bemused by the whole process.

And then he stopped. His Wolves’ hands tightened around his arm, pulling him up.

One of them let go and stepped forward. It was the one who had treated Miranelis’s burn, and later the rest of their wounds. Gyoras.

“We serve Kezul and the throne of Danelor,” he said. He had not learned the trick of self-control. His voice revealed everything he was feeling—all his anger, all his fear. “We take orders only from him.”

Kezul looked up, his own control slipping as his eyes went wide with alarm. “Don’t—”

The Unmaker’s sword whipped out before Miranelis saw him draw it. Gyoras’s head slid from his shoulders. It rolled down the palace steps, leaving behind a trail of blood. Miranelis looked away before they saw it hit the bottom. They thought they might be sick if they had to look into the empty, staring eyes of the enemy who had been kind to him.

The Unmaker held his sword ready. It still dripped with Gyoras’s blood. “Make him kneel,” he repeated, as if nothing had happened.

Miranelis didn’t know whether Kezul dropped to his knees first, or whether the other Wolves forced him there. Either way, it ended with Kezul kneeling at the top of the palace steps, staring down at the trail of blood in front of him. No other Wolves objected. None of them let go. Miranelis could see their reluctance on their faces—they hadn’t learned the trick of control, either. But they seemed held in the grip of whatever it was that had ensnared Kezul. Kezul had broken free long enough to call for cooperation, but now he was back under his father’s sway again.

And now… now Miranelis could see what Kezul had meant when he had said it would accomplish nothing for him to fight back against his father. Miranelis could watch the scene as it was about to play out in front of him. Kezul’s head joining Gyoras’s at the bottom of the steps. Kezul’s father slaughtering all the heads of the noble houses. The crowd rising up, and the Wolves killing them where they stood, filling the streets of the ruined city with red. And in the end, all Kezul would have accomplished was his own death.

They could see, too, how futile their own would-be act of rebellion would have been. Despair suffused their limbs as they stared at the Unmaker, who looked like a statue with his bloody sword held aloft. Or perhaps like a god come to the mortal realm. Ending Kezul’s life would have satisfied Miranelis’s petty desire for revenge against the one who had betrayed them. But despite what they had told themselves, it would have done nothing for Danelor. That was as much of a lie as when they had told themselves helping Kezul was only about saving Danelor, and not about saving their own life.

If they had succeeded, it would have ended the same way it was going to end now. With Kezul dead, and the Unmaker’s power made plain. It had always been the Unmaker who ruled here.

From the moment he had stepped through the palace doors, Kezul had been helpless to resist his will. And maybe even before then. Kezul had come here under his sway. He had come here to pass his father’s test. To earn something from his father—his approval, the right to be his puppet. But he hadn’t been good enough at it to see what his father had wanted from him from the beginning.

Kezul had seen that as a failing. Miranelis had seen it as a lucky chance. Only now could Miranelis see it as the strength it was.

But even that strength had its limits. Whatever hold the Unmaker had over Kezul, Kezul had never known life without it. It had only taken weeks before the Wolves had no longer needed to escort Miranelis to the throne room under guard, because routine held them in place more effectively than any chains. Miranelis had been in those invisible chains for mere months. Kezul had worn them all his life.

Of course Kezul had dropped to his knees at the sound of his father’s voice. He had only done what Miranelis had been about to do when the Unmaker had ordered him to cut off his own finger.

But Miranelis had not lived under the Unmaker’s sway all his life. Kezul had seen killing the man as an impossibility—of course he had. But perhaps, even though every instinct in Miranelis told them they were facing down a god, they could.

No one was paying attention to them. From the Wolves, to the crowd below, to the terrified heads of the noble houses the Wolves were holding in place beside Miranelis, everyone was staring at Kezul and the Unmaker. At the sword held aloft. At the tension in the Unmaker’s muscles as he held the pose for an impossibly long time.

What was stopping him? Was he making it as much of a spectacle for the crowd as possible, reveling in their shock, making them wonder until the last moment whether he would actually follow through? Or was he reluctant to take this final, irrevocable step? Despite everything, did a part of him still feel the temptation to give Kezul a second chance?

Whichever it was, it wouldn’t matter for long, because the delay wouldn’t last much longer. If Miranelis was going to do this, it had to be now.

They would die in the attempt, whether they failed or succeeded. They had no doubt of that. But they were no longer afraid of death.

Kezul had given them that gift.

There was no time to creep closer and closer the way they had during Kezul’s speech. Subtlety would not be an option this time. They drew in a sharp breath as they prepared themselves. The Unmaker’s eyes flicked toward them, and they froze. But the Unmaker’s gaze simply slid over them, not registering them as a threat worth considering.

Miranelis darted forward. The scabs on their wounded legs, and the torn muscles underneath, screamed at the sudden movement. They ignored it. They had gotten a lot of practice at ignoring pain lately.

And soon, they wouldn’t feel anything anymore.

The Unmaker’s sword came down. But time had thickened again—although this time, Miranelis suspected it had nothing to do with how slowly the Unmaker was moving, and everything to do with their own perceptions. Because it wasn’t just the Unmaker. Everything was moving too slowly—like the Wolves holding Kezul as they glanced at each other, their reservations painfully plain on their faces. Or the restless crowd, their movements as slow as sleepers slowly rousing from a dream.

The sword came down toward Kezul’s neck. And down. And down.

But not fast enough to stop Miranelis.

Miranelis grabbed clumsily for the Unmaker, for that spot along his side where Kezul wore his own knife. Their hand closed around the wolf-hilt knife. It was familiar in their hand. They had held it twice before. The first time, they hadn’t been able to bring it down. The second time, they would have struck without hesitation, if Kezul hadn’t stopped them.

This time, Kezul was in no position to stop them, even as his head jerked up and his face filled with naked shock at the sight of Miranelis.

This time, Miranelis struck without hesitation. And this time, Miranelis completed the strike.

His hand slashed across the Unmaker’s throat. The blade dug deep.

It didn’t the way Miranelis had expected it to feel. When the Wolves’ knives had sunk into their own flesh, it had always felt like the blades had cut into them without resistance. Now Miranelis could feel the work it actually took. It was nothing like the shallow slice they had made in Kezul’s leg. It was like cutting into a tough steak. They gagged.

But they kept going.

Blood cascaded down onto Miranelis’s face, hot and stinking, blinding them as it splashed into their eyes. It rolled between their lips and onto their tongue. They choked on the metal taste of it. It tasted different from their own. Sharper, more bitter.

A sharp burst of pain ripped through their torso. At first, they only registered as the shock that they had actually succeeded. They had wounded a god. That god was bleeding in front of them, wobbling on his suddenly unsteady legs.

But then Miranelis tried to breathe in, and a sharper burst of pain ran through them. They looked down at themselves and saw the Unmaker’s sword protruding from their chest. The Unmaker had missed their heart. Probably the only reason Miranelis was still alive was that even the Unmaker himself could not aim his weapon perfectly when he was bleeding to death. But as blood bubbled up from Miranelis’s throat and out through their lips, as they stared down at the sword hilt jutting from their chest, they knew the Unmaker had accomplished his goal nonetheless. He had killed them.

The knife fell from their hands with a muted clang.

The Unmaker clutched his throat. His eyes were wide with shock, a mirror of his son’s. This man, powerful as he was, had never learned to keep the feelings off his face. He didn’t look like a god anymore. He looked small and afraid as his hands clawed at the bloody slash, gurgling sounds emitting from his mouth.

He toppled backward onto the steps. He kept bleeding. His hands scrabbled at his throat, but the movements of his fingers were slower now, less purposeful.

Then the sky was spinning, and the palace steps were shifting underneath Miranelis. Something slammed into their back. The blade ripped through them all over again, then fell to the steps beside them. Only then did Miranelis realize they had fallen backward. They were lying on the steps, staring up at the blue sky. The force of the fall had driven the blade out of them.

But that wouldn’t save them.

Hot blood gushed from their chest wound as soon as the blade dislodged. It spilled out over their tunic, wetting their chest, soaking them like they had slid fully clothed into a hot bath. They might have found it almost relaxing, except for the fact that they couldn’t breathe.

Miranelis could hear the chaos in the crowd, although they no longer seemed to have the strength to turn their head to see what was going on. Some of the Wolves shouted for Kezul’s blood, claiming this had been some plot of his. Other Wolves gave shouts in his defense. Weapons clashed; warriors screamed in pain. Shouts of fear and confusion—and no small amount of exultation—came up from the crowd, in Miranelis’s own language.

Gradually, they became aware of vague blurs around them, rising up to block the sky. The blurs resolved into faces. None of the faces were looking at them. They recognized the heads of the noble houses, who had been held in place by the Wolves a moment ago. Now, with the Wolves more concerned with fighting each other, no one seemed to care much about them anymore. They stood frozen on the steps, like they weren’t sure what to do. Even they had little control at that moment. Miranelis could see their confusion, and their fear, as they tried to figure out whether they were safer staying up here or making a run for it.

Then a new face came into view, closer than the others. Closer, and more familiar. Kezul.

He knelt beside Miranelis. As his gaze fell on Miranelis’s chest, where blood was still gushing out onto the steps, a string of harsh words Miranelis didn’t recognize left their lips. Just from his tone, Miranelis could guess why none of those words had made it into their textbook. They might have said so, if they had had any breath left to spare on jokes.

Kezul’s hands pressed at the gushing wound, as if there were anything he could do to stop the flow of blood. Miranelis knew it was ridiculous, and from the look on Kezul’s face, he knew it too. It didn’t stop him from trying. The pressure on Miranelis’s chest felt as if Kezul had sat his entire weight on them, and yet it didn’t hurt. Mostly, Kezul’s hand just burned with an impossible warmth. It was as if Kezul were on fire. Miranelis was surprised not to see flames rising from his skin.

Or maybe Miranelis was just impossibly cold.

Kezul said something else, softer this time, almost inaudible over the shots of the crowd. It took Miranelis a moment to figure out what he had said. “You did it.” His voice was soft with wonder. “You actually did it.”

Miranelis wanted to say there was nothing Kezul could do to punish him them for it—they were already dying. But they couldn’t speak. When they opened their mouth, all that came out was a fresh gush of hot blood. And anyway, the tone in Kezul’s voice hadn’t been accusation.

It had been thanks.

The sky was going gray around the edges, like all the color was leaching out of it little by little. But Kezul’s face was as bright as ever, radiating fury and helplessness and shame. “It should have been me. I could barely even find the courage to say a few words he didn’t want me to say.” He shook his head, making his hair fly into his face. He was having trouble looking at Miranelis. “You were right,” he said, meeting Miranelis’s eyes again at last. “I was a coward after all.”

If Miranelis could have drawn in one more breath, they would have said it wasn’t too late. They would have told Kezul what Havedrial had told them what felt like a lifetime ago—that a coward was simply one who hadn’t found the right opportunity for bravery.

They would have made Kezul promise not to be a coward now, when it really counted. They would have made Kezul promise to continue the work the two of them had started together. Even though it would take so much more courage to do it alone, without guidance.

They wanted nothing more than to say those words. Those, and perhaps others—like, Thank you for not killing me in the courtyard that day. And, Thank you for listening to my advice when it wasn’t what you want to hear. Thank you for taking that chance.

And yes, there was a part of them wanted to say, Everything that has happened here is, at least in part, on your head. Don’t let yourself forget that.

But most importantly, they wanted to say, Danelor is in your hands now. Your father can’t take it from you. And I can’t help. It’s all up to you now. Use this power well.

As the color leached out of Kezul’s face at last, and the light winked out of the world, Miranelis thought, somehow, that Kezul had understood every word he hadn’t possessed the final breath to say.

---

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