#this Creature shall be glorious

[flipppyflopp]

Sebcroc joins the Glorious Masquerade 🐊✨

I couldn’t help myself from drawing Rollo’s reaction to Sebcroc after I finished designing Sebcroc’s outfit. I just know that Rollo would be disgusted by Sebcroc, like a magical crocodile creature? Loved by Malleus? Someone get Rollo his handkerchief 🤢

I had fun working on something silly and quick, since my previous posts have been detailed and angsty. The masquerade outfits are a lot of fun and I hope to draw more of them, but we shall see what inspiration I get. Good luck to everyone rolling during Glorious Masquerade! I hope Malleus comes home quickly 🤧

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day eleven: monsterfucking kink

>>> guys this one may be my fav day ngl...as you can tell by my blog's entire theme that this is my biggest and most violent fantasy i need dragon king bakugou in the worst way please oh my god please

>>> EDIT 10/11: MHA LEAKS OMFG THIS DROPPED THE DAY MHA LEAKS BAKUGOU IS BACK MY GLORIOUS KING!!!!

>>> starring: dragon king!bakugou x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: monsterfucking, bakugou is a hybrid, no prep, creampie, breeding, biting, blood, dark content, kinda forced marriage? mating bonds, uh, i think that's it. >>>wc: 2.9k >>> event masterlist

it was the new king’s coronation day, and as tradition demands, he shall have his pick of the finest women in his lands. you were brought forth amongst a host of other ladies deemed pretty enough for the young king to choose from. you were the only one of them that seemed irritated by the prospect, all the other girls were tittering and combing their hair while discussing their chances of being picked to be the dragon king’s new bride. he examined you all in a line, sneering at all the smiling and fluttering lashes—sending them crying from the room. he pauses on you, his gaze was stern and fiery but you didn’t hesitate to square your shoulders and meet it. he’s surprised; you don’t smile or extend your hand for him to kiss. you challenge him, you tell him with that strong set jaw and steel stare that you won’t be easy. he feels a pull on his heart, something he cannot yet explain. he likes you. 

you tilt your chin up, almost like you’re the one sizing him up. you’re so regal and amusing to him that his mind is made up instantly, but he gives you a few more minutes of looking him over, hoping to see some semblance of interest on your face. king bakugou was a hulking form of a man, towering above everyone in the room. they always were bigger than the normal humans, but he was larger than any of the dragon shifters you had ever come across. the room almost didn’t seem big enough to contain him, and it was his castle. his burlap trousers balloon around his lower half, but it seems there were not shirts big enough to fit the new king of dragons, only a long fur cloak that fastened with a golden dragon broach stretching across the broad expanse of his chest. he was tanned and scarred from years of flight and battle, and muscled even more so. he had hints of sparkling scarlet scales trailing along his collarbones with pointy teeth that alluded to his other form. his biceps bulged as he folded his arms across his chest, admiring you as you admire him with a satisfied smirk on his face. you didn’t throw yourself at him like the rest, and he doubted you would yet still, but you weren’t shy to let your eyes linger on him. he likes you. 

he smirks your way, grunting his approval. you were the perfect match. you certainly were the most beautiful creature of his kingdom, and your womanly figure assured him that he would sire several successful heirs with you. you captivated him and you had not yet spoken a word, though the young king could feel that fierce tugging on his heart again, something he now recognizes to be his mating bond the longer he looks at you and the stronger the feeling grows. 

“mine.” he says simply, nodding at you in content. his right hand man and fellow dragon shifter steps closer, handing his friend and king a fur pelt similar to the one he wears before retreating back into the onlooking crowd. the king unclasps the matching golden dragon, swinging the covering over your shoulders and snapping the jewelry back into place with a surprising nimbleness. this was the first of many gifts the king would dole out for his mate and queen, but this is the first one to mark you as his. you’re shocked to be chosen, convinced he would take your surveying for disrespect and brutalize you here to send a message— but alas, the most explosive dragon ruler in all the lands chose you as his bride. “you are my mate. we will marry in two moons. dismissed.” 

he looks over your head when he says this, ending the celebrations in favor of alone time with his chosen. his gaze has a hint of boredom to it as it glides around the room, red and fiery with unspoken strength and power behind them. you straighten yourself under the weight of your new cloak, bowing your head out of respect, albeit so quick it made the king exhale heavily through his nose as if to chuckle. 

“you are amusing, mate.” he says, extending a warm battle-worn hand to push your hair away from your neck. he lets it rest against your shoulder, smirking at how small you were compared to him. it was overwhelmingly apparent that he could do anything he wanted to with you, and you weren’t necessarily opposed to the concept. you started this day with immense rage and dread at having to go before the king and be selected like a prize horse. but he surprised you, even being every bit as brute and brash as everyone said he’d be, his eyes sparkled when they came across you. he declared you his mate—-a huge deal for a dragon shifter, and shrouded you in the engagement cloak without so much as a second thought. there was no arguing with the king, nor his mating bond. your soul was created to nurture his, and vice versa. he felt this snap into place instantly, as a mortal, you probably wouldn’t feel the strength of your connection for several days to weeks. it was an honor, one you couldn’t believe was bestowed upon you—but you certainly weren’t complaining anymore. “i like you.” 

you feel your body warm a bit from something as simple as his touch. he’s rough around the edges, and certainly doesn’t know how to be gentle or verbose, but his statement makes you smile warmly anyway. “thank you, my king. i’m quite amused as well.” 

he lets his hand slide from your shoulder all the way to your hand, clutching it tight as he brings it to his lips, giving it a chaste kiss. your scent makes his heart skip a beat, and he wonders if he can make it through the next two months without ravaging his sweet maiden. 

the days pass, slowly, but they pass. your king brings you several gifts and trinkets, filling your new chambers with tokens of his affection and fondness for his mate. the dragons were known for this, and your mate was the brightest and biggest of them all. so never did he go out to fly without returning with a clutch of presents. he was always so proud of himself as he showed them to you, shoving all the perfumes and jewels in your hands with a boastful grin. 

“i found these for you. wear them.” he grunts, roughly pulling you into his arms for a crushing hug. he was working on it, but he manhandled you on accident a majority of the time, not used to interacting with women. you were getting used to it anyhow, only giggling and nodding your acceptance, cooing at how beautiful all the gifts were. he preens in your praise, eager to earn the deep affection that the bond produces. 

you couldn’t deny that the bond was starting to affect you, as if you needed any help falling for the monster of a man meant to be your husband. he was kind and loving to you, and you couldn’t ask for much more. he was feared and revered, if you were dumb enough to cross him or his kingdom—soon to be your kingdom, then you earned the punishment of his hellfire tenfold. you wouldn’t find yourself begging for lives to be spared as you stand in the crowd while watching the king dole out sentences. he was brutal, and scary, vicious and primal in every way. his servants tremored in his wake, and though his people loved his protection, they feared his wrath. you were truly the only exception, and it was mystical for everyone to see the fierceness that abounds for his soon to be wife, his forever mate, his queen. and they could only hope your loving tenderness would tame the wild king. 

he took meals with you, showed you around his dreary and plain castle, easily agreeing to your every decoration suggestion and insisting you do whatever you want—this is your home now too. he even took you on rides in his gorgeous dragon form, letting you see how beautiful the sun setting over the kingdom was, flying you to different nations, journeying close to the seawaters so you could feel the salty wind on your skin. he forced himself to sleep in his own quarters at night, trying and struggling to abide by common decency. 

when your wedding day finally arrived, the king was more than ready to make you his queen officially—and then cart you to bed where decency would be the last thing on his mind. the ceremony is gorgeous, the image of you in your wedding gown was never to be forgotten on him, even though he couldn’t wait to rip it off of you. his brain had already geared into the darker side of things by the time you were being shown to your now shared chambers, and he could not resist his mate any longer. 

you weren’t faring much better. however this mating bond usually affected mortal women, it had you ready to climb your king like a tree. as soon as the doors were closed, he was on you, shoving you backwards while hastily tearing at your dress. you assist him in getting it over your head with only minimal rips in the fabric. you can’t bring yourself to care as you fall back on the bed with his body covering yours like a blanket. he’s snarling, but he’s not angry, just eager and too impatient to think about all the lessons he’s learned in being gentle. he scoops you up and tosses you up towards headboard, and you swear you can see steam billow off his form as he eyes you down, watching you lay and spread for him. 

“it’s been hard…waiting for you.” he complains, unfastening his cloak and letting it fall to the floor. the moment is so intense, you can feel the air thicken, smell the need permeating the air. he’s breathing heavily already, tugging at the weaving strings keeping his pants closed. your breath hitches when you see his scales glisten in the moonlight, the outline of his cock pressing against the troublesome burlap material. you pant out and nod, knowing the growth before you was only the first hint of what he had to pleasure his mate with. dragon shifters are larger than mortal men in every way, reflecting their dragon status in several different physical markers along their bodies, scales along their collarbones and spines, long mane-esque hairstyles, and of course their cocks. he steps out of the clothing, his massive leaking dick slapping up against his abs with a loud smack, you moan. 

his ashy patch of hair and the scarlet scales glistening against his hip bones direct your attention to the monster cock you married. he’s long, thick, curved, lined with veins and a throbbing pink tip leaking his pre-cum in droplets on the bed. it was easily half the size of his thigh, both length and width wise. he fixes himself on the bed, shredding your panties with sharp talons and eyeing your tiny hole. he has all the intentions to stretch you a bit, to get you soaked to accommodate him but when he looks back up at you, you’re drooling. 

you can’t imagine how good that’s going to feel inside you. all the times you had touched yourself out of curiosity or even genuine horniness would hardly compare to this, to the man it’s attached to—the way he watches you like a predator tells you there was nothing in this world that would prepare you for what he was about to do to you–what you wanted him to do to you. “i know…” you say after taking a deep breath, reaching for his face. “i’ve had to wait just as long.”

you squirm in place, lidded eyes flickering from his endowment to his eyes and then back again. “just wanna feel my king…i know you’ll fill me up so well.” you coo, batting your lashes. 

he’s not in the right mind to banter with you, the only thoughts crossing his brain at the sight and scent of you was to ravage. he grips your hips tightly, trying to will himself to be stronger and give his new bride the treatment she deserves. he should prepare you like a gentleman, but unfortunately the young king is unable to will himself to be gentle. you seem to read his mind, nodding and spreading your legs a bit further, allowing him to get settled in the space you provide. he wastes no time in lining up with your entrance and bottoming out. he knows it’s sadistic that he enjoys the way your eyes cross at the sensation, the burning and splitting stretch ripping a sob from your throat. you clutch at his arms, the natural slick you produced just from your own anticipation aiding him in the glide. he stays still for a moment, letting you adjust to him so he can also adjust to the feeling of your virgin pussy gripping him like a hand-tailored glove. he can’t fight the groan that leaves his lips, mindfully keeping his talons retracted as he rakes his hands over your plush stomach and wide hips, stopping to paw at your thick thighs and fat ass. he’s already rendered speechless, only able to grunt and groan as he starts to move, putting your legs up to his shoulders as to not face any resistance. you cry out at the new angle, absolutely feeling the searing heat of him splitting you apart, but you love it. you move your hips against his, head digging back against the pillow at the newfound pleasure.

it’s so hard for him to go slow, especially as you fuck yourself into him and cry out for more. your body takes him so well, as it was designed to, but he still didn’t expect it to feel and look and sound so good. he can see himself in your stomach, the spikes along his base curling into you and hitting every spot so well. you didn’t even know it was possible to feel this good, his cockhead drilling into your womb so hard it has the corners of your vision turning white. 

he’s growling, unable to repress his animalistic side completely. he leans forward, snapping his hips to yours as your wanton moans fill the room. he lets his tongue lave over your neck, making you gasp out at the feeling. “mate–i need to mark–bite..” he rumbles in your ear, goosebumps rippling over his body when you whine out and nod. 

“please! bite me, got those teeth f’r a reason—” you plead, your small hand guiding his face to the crook of your neck. your eagerness makes his cock twitch, your enjoyment paramount to him just as much as claiming his mate for the first time. he abides by your wishes, sinking his teeth into your flesh and clamping down, feeling you do the same around his dick. you moan out, clawing at his back with your own kind of talons. he can’t stop, driving bruises and bloody spots all along your neck and chest. he’d never go too deep even in his lusty haze, his primal instinct to protect his other half would never allow him to cause permanent harm. he admires his work, “pretty mate, my teeth marks.” 

he grunts out, gripping your hips and roughly turning you over, grabbing a fistful of your hair to yank you into a deep arch. you scream at the new angle, some blood trickling down your neck and pooling between your breasts. he’s entranced by the shape of your body beneath him, how his hands take up your entire waist and the way your ass ripples as he hammers into you. you’re struggling to hold your body up under the force of his thrusts, gripping the covers beneath you for dear life. he reaches around your hip, locating the sweet bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. your hips falter when he presses his touch to your clit, a little sob coming from your lips as you begin to fall apart. 

“pretty. coat my cock.” he grunts, cock jumping again as you nod and fall forward, your pussy spasming around him like crazy. he feels the rush of you, sending him shuddering towards his end too. “g’nna take my heirs.” he groans, slamming your hips back into his as he spills into you for the first time. 

he pulls out quickly to gather you up in his arms, laying on his back with you protected by the expanse of his chest. you’re incoherent as his seed trickles out of you, and as bewitching as the sight is, he wants you to give him several warrior princes and princesses. so he slides his hands between your legs and chuckles as you jerk when you feel his fingers stuffing his cum back inside. you whine, so sensitive but yearning for all of his touches. he grunts a bit, leaning over to smooth your tousled hair and gently kissing the bruises and shallow wounds he gave you. his kindness touches you, and you relax into his body with a grin, knowing he would hold you to his heart’s content and then have the servants run a bath for the new dragon queen.

[heraxic]

I’m sorry if you already answered this (I didn’t find it mentioned) but why was Kyril/Karl mutated, imprisoned and hunted in the Greek Myth AU? This definitely feels like Miranda/Athena was punishing him. What happened?

Thanks for asking!

Here’s pre-curse Kyril (story under cut, body horror/gore warning)

Yes, it was meant as punishment (unlike Alina and Daphne), and to no one’s surprise his crime was hubris.

Kyril worked at his father’s forge, far surpassing his skills in both metalworking and stone masonry. As such he was blessed by Hephaestus himself.

He got commissioned to make a statue of Athena in honor of her craftsmanship. He rolled his eyes and set to work, complaining that it’d be more fitting to make one of Hephaestus, who picked up the slack, since Athena abandoned her craft and stopped making beautiful things for the sake of her sick game (Athena’s Gauntlet of Monsters, so far containing a living whirlpool and a sphinx, was widely known and many daydreamed of or even sought the glory of defeating the beasts). In spite of his grumbling the statue came out stunning with clean cut stone and gilded detailing.

The next day, a weaver came to Kyril’s forge saying she’d heard his complaints about her goddess, which confused her cause with a statue that beautiful a blessing would naturally be in order, yet he burned that bridge. ‘What if she could give you the power to make the most life-like statues in the world?’ Kyril laughed and said it wasn’t her domain, and besides he didn’t need it.

Refusing a blessing from a god is one thing, but to mock them and be telling the truth at the same time is unforgivable.

The weaver lifted her shawl from her head and revealed a brilliant blue plume and with it a golden helmet. Athena arose to her full dreadful height, one hand holding her winged spear, the other pointed towards the terrified sinner in front of her. ‘You will know what power is when you see it. You shall have my blessing whether you wish or not.’

In a second, Kyril fell to the floor screaming with blinding agony, feeling horrible squelching and crunching as bone and muscle grew where it shouldn’t. His nails fell out and out of the raw empty spots grew thorny black claws; his spine extended to accommodate a tufted lion tail; the skin of his back ripped to tatters to unfurl two sets of bloody grey wings; his black curls turned to angry, writhing snakes, each more venomous than the last; his teeth grew sharp and pointed, cutting rifts on his tongue so blood filled his mouth; and lastly his eyes grew heavy in their sockets as they were imbued with the last of the goddess’s curse.

Hearing the commotion, Kyril’s father rushed in and cradled the strange figure he knew was his son, turning his head towards him. He instantly froze in place, a perfect image of paternal worry, and the monster felt the arms holding it turn hard and grating like stone.

Athena took him away to her islands somewhere in the Cyclades to become the next glorious creature on her roster, the Gorgon. There he lied writhing in pain for 12 days without sleep or food (besides the right leg of Pallas, which further changed his body and gained him far more muscle and size). When the pain subsided enough to let him speak he prayed for his patron Hephaestus to help him, but alas gods can’t break each other's curses. Instead he carved out a spacious cave for him in which to seek shelter as well as several unbreakable stonemason and smithing tools to keep up his spirits.

700 yrs later Elias comes to the islands.

[yuurei20]

Malleus Facts Part 31: Prefect (pt5)

During Firelit Sky Cater invites the group to take a photo with a melon that is supposed to make friendships last forever.

While the prefect agrees, Malleus refuses.

Malleus will occasionally ask the prefect for their opinion, welcoming their input on a souvenir for Lilia, looking forward to the Port Fest performance with the prefect’s encouragement and to their thoughts on his cooking.

Malleus asks the prefect for their age in a voice line where he then responds, “You’re practically a baby from my perspective.”

He also comments on their eyes “sparkling like a child’s.” Malleus wears his robes at the prefect’s request, and says they are welcome to touch his horns, but he “can’t guarantee what would happen to you if you did.”

He also threatens them with lightning: “Have you considered I could use lightning to smite you where you stand?”

In another voice line he invites the prefect on a walk, encourages them to invite him to one of Ramshackle dorm’s dorm-wide meetings and to join him and Sebek in training.

Malleus says it would be nice if the prefect could experience Halloween in Briar Valley some day, and also invites them to show them the blooming roses at the castle, should they ever pay a visit.

Malleus invites the prefect on a boat ride during Firelit Sky, to the library, and encourages them to go to him if they need help with any part of an assignment, as, “I wasn’t expecting anything from you to start with.”

In a Glorious Masquerade line he says there is never a dull moment with the prefect, and in another line he offers to test their strength against his own but changes his mind as “humans are fragile creatures.”

When Grim helps himself to the cotton candy at Malleus’ stall Malleus declares that he shall allow it, as Grim is the prefect’s companion.

[scekrex]

I shall greet you with a good morning/noon/afternoon/evening/night/midnight.I hope this pity request of mine shall be noticed or seen at once

I just wonder how about a angel reader that helps during the creation of Eden like when Adam was created Reader couldn't help but befriended with the poor lonely mortal every day and every moment he has and the creator likes seeing that his angel is accompanying his first mortal creation while he was making the soulmate of the insignificant mortal who keeps talking about different that is seen around the garden of Eden they even named animals but i must remind you that this time Adam was still a kind soul and Lucifer on the other hand was quite jealous on the mortal and angel(reader) interaction since he's been admiring reader for such a long time so timeskip when both of Adams spouses left him there is his only friend angel hugging him comforting him and ended up sleeping together

-i hope this wasn't much of a bother to you dear writer and be careful have a long life always take care of your health!who knows who your death might be anywhere near anyways i highly appreciate that this pity request of mine reached your attention so this is where I shall end my poetic request your fan:P

By sleeping together I assume you meant physically sleeping and not sex - if I misunderstood let me know. ALSO MOM WAKE UP I HAVE A FAN HOLY SHIT dzcuehcz

Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language & angst

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

If you were to be asked how existence was before god had created Adam, you weren’t to respond with ‘boring’, because it never had been boring. But with Adam created, it was much more entertaining, that was for sure.

The creatures Adam had started to call ‘animals’ at some point had been cute and entertaining, they had been fun to observe and figure out, the ones with fur were so soft to pet. And yet the human that lived in Eden was far more interesting - how could he not be? Adam, as he had been named, was a kind one. And you were proud to say that you had been the first of the angels to interact with him. You visited the human every day, spent the time with him when God’s tasks ran out - after the first time meeting Adam that had happened a lot. Father had made it clear that he liked the bond that slowly formed between the both of you. Yes, Lucifer was his favorite but that didn’t mean he hated all his other children, he even encouraged you to interact with the creative human he had created, to support him and keep him company.

Adam was quite the sight, he was not only very handsome, he was also a charmer. The brunette human was attentive, he was quick to notice and compliment even the smallest changes of your appearance. You had put in some extra effort to clean your feathered wings? The first man was there to tell you how glorious your wings were looking. Your hair was looking a little messier than usual? Adam would make sure you were doing okay and that your messy hair didn’t mean you were stressed. God had created Adam after his very own image and it showed, the man was the definition of kindness and pureness and you adored him for that.

The sun was shining down on you, providing comfortable warmth for you, the human and all of God’s other creations. Lucifer’s curious eyes were observing your interaction with the human from a nearby tree. You were laying in the grass, Adam’s head was resting on your chest and he was as relaxed as he could be when he pointed to a little creature with beautiful wings that landed on your nose, “Look Y/N, a butterfly.” You chuckled softly at his casual way of naming the new found creature that would now be called butterfly. “Its wings look almost as beautiful as yours,” the brunette added with a soft hum and watched as the newly named creation flew away. One of mentioned wings came up to caress his cheek, the softness of your feathers against his skin made Adam close his eyes in comfort. “You’re such a charmer, Adam,” you offered the first and so far only human your warmest smile. The tall brunette hummed, “I am just stating how things are, it only makes sense for God’s children to look beautiful.” Your hand gently pushed some of his thick brown hair out of his face, “Is that the reason for your divine looks?”

Adam opened his eyes to look at you, his brown eyes provided just as much warmth as the sun, that you were sure about. Because whenever the first man looked at you, you couldn’t help but feel adored and appreciated and those feelings made your body feel warm and fuzzy.

Lucifer didn’t like the closeness the both of you shared, he didn’t understand why you took such a liking to the first human at all. He was a mortal, a thing created to fill the place God had created, he was just one out of many creations and he surely wouldn’t remain the only of his kind for very long, Father had made plans to create a partner for Adam after all. Why couldn't it be Lucifer resting on your chest as you enjoyed the beauty Father had created? Why Adam?

Lucifer would never understand what the brunette had to offer that he hadn’t. There was a reason why he was Father’s favorite after all. And yet you were petting Adam’s hair and not Lucifer’s. Yet you rather spent your days roaming around Eden with the first human instead of spending your days behind heaven’s holy gates with Lucifer. It bothered the angel, it bothered him very much.

When the sun set and night rolled around, Lucifer took off and went back to heaven, you however stayed in Eden with Adam. “You see the little sparkles surrounded by darkness? Those are stars,” Adam mumbled, his eyes were falling shut again and again and yet the mortal refused to go to sleep. Why sleep when he could enjoy your company a little longer? “Yeah,” you hummend, “Why so?” The brunette shrugged, “It feels right to call them that, they glow even though darkness surrounds them constantly, they bring dimension to the dark night sky and yet they don’t shine bright enough to hurt your eyes, they feel comfortable just like the word ‘star’ does.” And that made sense, you guessed. Father had given Adam the task to name things and the first human was doing a great job so far. “You are a star too, Y/N,” he then added and you looked at him, his head still resting on your chest. Your wings came up to wrap around the human, providing warmth the sun couldn’t since it had set a while ago. “Because I shine in the dark?” You were referring to the white feathers of your wings that looked like they were glowing in the dark just like the stars were. Adam though shook his head, “No, because you feel comfortable.”

Adam didn’t remain alone for very long and while that caused your visits to reduce since he now had proper company, it didn’t shrink the bond you two had built, you remained just as close as before. But with more time that you spent in heaven, the more you realized Lucifer’s odd behavior towards you and the grudge he seemed to hold against Adam for no reason at all. “I simply do not like you spending so much time around the human, “ the blonde angel spoke, his words were sour and his body language only underlined the honesty of his spoken words. “He was not created for our entertainment.” You however simply shook your head lightly, “Father said he appreciates me spending time with Adam, he thinks it’s a good influence and while Lilith was made from him for him, Father sees no problem in me continuing my visits, he even encourages them. I understand that you are worried, Lucifer,” you rested your hand gently on his shoulder, “But Adam and I get along really well.”

-

But oh how things took a bad turn, no one had expected Lilith to turn down Adam and seek comfort in Lucifer and neither did anyone expect Eve to eat the apple and leave Adam just like Lilith had done before.

As soon as you heard the news you made your way down to Eden to look for the brunette first human. You found him near a lake, your lake to be exact, Adam had named that one lake after you because it was the place you and him spent most of your nights. It was surrounded by trees and yet it offered a perfectly clear view of the sky. A family of ducks lived near that lake and given that those ducks had feathers that reminded him of your wings - one of them was a purely white duck - he had named this spot after you. So it was obvious he would seek comfort at your spot. “Adam,” your soft voice made him look up, you stood next to where he was sitting, tears were standing in his eyes and his cheeks were red - so were his puffy eyes. You sat down next to the lonely human, carefully lifted him in your lap and pulled him in a tight hug, your wings wrapped around the human's body in comfort. Adam clearly needed some comfort. “I heard, I’m so sorry.” The human remained silent, he hadn’t had the strength to talk about what had happened and you understood, it must be very hard to lose the one that had been created for him and only him twice in a row. “I will stay for as long as you need me,” you whispered as you gently patted his back on slow motions. The poor soul was hurt so badly that you were able to feel the damage that had been caused by both of his women turning against him. “For the night?” he asked with a broken voice as tears leaked from his eyes, you nodded. “For the night, “ you assured him, “And for the following day as well, if you wish so.” His fingers dug into your robe, he held onto you as if he was afraid to lose you too and given the situation you understood.

The first man must have been quite exhausted from all the crying he had done because it didn’t take the brunette very long to fall asleep in your arms, and you stayed. You stayed at Eden for an entire week, and you only left after that week because Father had asked to speak with you. Adam was left with your promise to come back and that promise you fulfilled when you returned to him only a few hours later. From then on the human refused to let you leave for very long, he was too afraid you would turn against him as well, but how could you when he was the most perfect thing Father had ever created? No. You would keep him from more damage, guide his soul until he was ready to join you in heaven. And with Fathers blessing, that was your task for the following years.

[her-satanic-wiles]

Dawn Chorus - III

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 6.8k.

Reading Time: 27min.

Warnings: asshole!Copia, blood extraction,drunk!Copia, mild sexual harassment?? (there’s nothing inherently sexual about what he’s doing, but it is uncomfortable and I wanted to tag it just to be safe), non-consensual rituals,restrained with ropes, rituals, soul modification, tied with ropes, use of needles

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @antoniamarie1989

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this fic is quite dark, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my decision. Thank you.

The echoing of a choir sung eerily in your mind, the song slow and sombre as the melody continued. The same tune, verse by verse, sticking to your brain like glue; the lyrics haunting your waking moments. In an ironic turn of events, despite all your doubts and building hatred for the Great Creator, you found a morbid comfort in the songs the morals sung in gratitude, praising Him for their life however it looked, grateful for His grace. In your time watching the world go by, in the silence of your solitude and between visits from the creature that saw you as livestock and nothing more, those voices rang out to you, the lyrics tumbling from your lips and you found yourself joining the chorus.

“Nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!

E’en though it be a cross that raiseth me,

Still all my song shall be,

Nearer, my God, to thee;

Nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!”

The mortal desire to walk amongst Him both on this plane and in Heaven. It made you want to laugh. It was your wish to do the same thing, hold an audience with Him, breathe the air He created as He exhaled it. And look where it got you: locked in a cage, holy light dimming, and blood drained twice a week for your troubles by a being that took pleasure in your discomfort if it meant a night of intoxication for him. Your resolve was still strong, you still were sure that you’d escape, yet you sat atop a mountain of failed plans and played a waiting game before you could try something new.

“Though like the wanderer, the sun gone down,

Darkness be over me, my rest a stone;

Yet in my dreams I’d be

Nearer, my God, to thee;

Nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!”

There was nothing darker than the shadow of Satan, the fallen angel who despised the Lord so much, he actively worked to depose Him. Perhaps it was the nature of the building you were trapped in, the unholy scriptures you’d hear during Monday’s service, or the attitude of the Sister and the Cardinal, but you’d commit unforgivable sins if you were to hide the fact that you’d thought a great deal on the subject while trapped in this gilded cage. Was Lucifer right in his actions? Was he truly onto something? Did he know something about the Almighty the rest of you had been programmed to look passed and not notice?

You remembered hearing stories about Lucifer’s departure from Heaven when you were new to that life. Unlike your superiors, you weren’t old enough to have been there in person to witness the events unfolding. Thus, you were forced to rely on retellings from the angels who were brave enough to talk about it. Brave or stupid, given Lucifer’s story was forbidden to discuss.

Lucifer was once one of the most glorious and powerful angels in Heaven. He was created by God as a radiant and magnificent being, endowed with great beauty, wisdom, and authority.

However, Lucifer’s unparalleled beauty and lofty position led to pride and ambition within him. He began to desire to ascend even higher, seeking to exalt himself above God and to become equal to or greater than the Almighty. This prideful ambition grew into rebellion, as Lucifer sought to challenge the authority of God and establish his own dominion.

In his arrogance, Lucifer rallied a faction of angels to his cause, persuading them to join him in his rebellion against God’s rule. Together, they launched a revolt in Heaven, seeking to overthrow the divine order and seize control of the celestial realms.

But their rebellion was swiftly and decisively crushed by the forces of God’s loyal angels, led by the archangel Michael. In a great battle, Lucifer and his followers were defeated and cast out of Heaven, their rebellion crushed and their ambitions shattered.

As punishment for his pride and rebellion, Lucifer was cast down from Heaven and condemned to eternal damnation. He became known as Satan, the adversary, and was banished to the depths of Hell, where he would reign as the ruler of darkness and the chief antagonist to God and humanity.

The stories you were always taught showed Lucifer in a negative light, so power-hungry and greedy, convinced he could overthrow Him and rule in His stead. Now, after experiencing the wrath of Heaven, and God’s heedlessness towards both you and the mortals He created, you wondered if Lucifer was really greedy, or if he was informed of the Almighty’s incompetence and wanted to do more.

“There let the way appear, steps unto Heaven;

All that thou sendest me, in mercy given;

Angels to beckon me

Nearer, my Go -”

“Would you knock it off?”

The sound of the Cardinal’s voice had you turning around in a quick snap, looking at the doorway of his room. His voice was slurred but clear enough that you could understand him perfectly. “You’re too fucking loud.” His make up was running in places from the sweat and the evening’s activities, and you could see the dawn peeking through the gaps in the curtains.

“I shan’t,” you shouted back, a glee in your voice that shouldn’t be there. The longer you kept him awake and poked at him, the easier it would be to get him to open the door and then pass out - allowing you to escape.

“Disobey me and see what happens to you.”

“Thou wilt take no action,” you chided with confidence.

“‘Thou wilt’,” he repeated, “Why do you talk like that?” He asked, staggering over to the cage. He cackled, the cackle that mortals do when they’re heavily inebriated. “It’s funny.”

“Thus do we angels converse in Heaven, when in the company of the Almighty and His warriors.” You murmured, your voice soft and reverent.

The Cardinal hissed at the mention of God. “Fuck him. And fuck you, too!” He smacked the side of the cage and chuckled. “I don’t-” he burped. “Why were you singing? Just now… only happy people sing.”

You stared at him in confusion, you’d seen drunk mortals before, but your blood had turned this guy into the biggest idiot you’d ever seen. “I have naught else to occupy my time. Even caged birds sing; perchance ‘tis what mortals dub as ‘yearning’.”

“Yearn quieter then.”

“I shall yearn as loudly as I so desire.”

“Not while I’m in the room, you won’t.”

“Then, with my waking thoughts -”

“No.”

“bright with thy praise -”

“You can’t even sing.”

“Out of my stony griefs -”

“I said, shut up!” he roared, demanding your silence. You obeyed this time, given his fist collided with the cage and dented the side. “I never asked for dinner and a show.” He laughed at himself a little, until what he said sank in and he bent over, laughing harder. Once he’d composed himself, he stood straight and wiped the tears from his eyes. “If you’re gonna sing - at least sing something good.”

He walked over to a square box in the corner and picked up another square thing. This time it was red. You stared at it with your brows furrowed, trying to make sense of it. A black and red, circular object came out of the sleeve, and he placed it inside the square box. After a little maneuvering, sound began to pour from the box and into the room.

It was a droning sound, resembling wind whipping through a forest in the dead of night, designed to strike fear into the hearts of anyone listening. You shivered, your body growing cold at the sensation - the fear of being chased seeming to be too much for you to even think about let alone experience. Then, suddenly, a voice rang out.

“Ring-a-ring of roses,

A pocket full of posies,

Atishoo! Atishoo!

We all fall down.

Ashes on the water,

Ashes in the sea,

Ashes on the riverside,

One, two, three!”

The melody was interrupted by what you assumed to be a guitar, the sudden sound of which made you jump in fright. You’d heard about mortals and their modern proclivities with music - and how they’d made all kinds of sounds with the Almighty’s instruments. You’d never heard this before, used only to the sounds of orchestral beauty and choir singers in their various Houses of God.

“The guy who wrote this,” the Cardinal began, enthusiastically pointing to the music maker and shouting over the loud sounds, “has two little semen demons. They sang that. Genius!”

The music changed into a second song, a more upbeat tempo but still with a heavy sound. A different voice sang that time, definitely a grown man.

“In times of turmoil

In times like these

Beliefs contagious

Spreading disease

This wretched mischief -”

“The bard’s voice resemblances thine!” You shouted back to him.

The Cardinal shook his head. “What!?”

You made your voice louder. “I said: The singer doth resemble thee!”

He huffed and went to turn the music down. “What?” He snapped.

“I said: The bard’s voice resemblances thine.”

“Oh,” he smiled, “it is me.”

You blinked for a second, comprehending the information that had just passed through your ears. The Cardinal made music, and he was playing it to you… while you were trapped in a cage… in his bedroom… “Dost thou not feel ashamed?” you asked him, genuine intrigue in your voice.

“Why would I feel ashamed?”

“Pride is a sin. And thou art compelling me to listen to thy music without my request. According to mortal social conventions, is this not cause for embarrassment?”

He turned the music up. “I can’t hear you! The music’s too loud!”

“I said: Pride is a sin! And thou art -” He turned the music up and gestured to his ears, silently telling you that he couldn’t hear you while he danced and sang along to his own music.

“Will suffer punishments beneath the wrath of God

Never to forgive

Never to forgive

Them rats!”

You watched as the man continued to dance, even while the sun got brighter from behind the shades. The small amount of sunlight that trickled in wasn’t enough to hurt him, but you wished it was.

Songs ended and began again only to renew the cycle over and over until eventually, another song played that was very upbeat and the Cardinal seemed pleased by it. You saw an opportunity, “What be the title of this melody?”

“Dance Macabre.”

“Thou shouldst release me from this enclosure.”

He laughed. “You want to dance, little angel?”

You hesitated. “Aye?”

He fumbled with his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, placing the smallest one in the keyhole of your now dented cage. You heard the sound of the locks opening, and the door swinging wide to let you out. The Cardinal swayed, in part to the music, in part to his intoxication, but unlike his treatment of you thus far, he held out his hand for you to take. You stood and eyed him suspiciously, unsure if this was another trick to hurt you with. But when he shook his hand, gesturing you to take it, you obliged, feeling his leather clad hand wrap around your naked fingers and ease you out of the cage with a gentility you’d never experienced before. You took the opportunity to flap your wings, stretching them out while you could, because you didn’t know how long he’d have you out of your prison.

He pulled you away from the cage and let you go, choosing to dance instead of keeping you held to him. The door was left ajar and you looked at it once, then looked back at the Cardinal hoping that he didn’t see your glance. He didn’t.

But just as you were about to make a break for it, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over you, threatening to send you sprawling to the ground. You staggered, clutching at the nearest piece of furniture for support, your heart pounding in your chest.

The Cardinal’s laughter echoed in your ears, mocking and derisive. “Where do you think you’re going, little angel?” he slurred, his voice dripping with contempt. “You belong to me now. Did the Sister not tell you just how much Hell-metal is in here?” He pulled you to his body and forced you to dance. “Contingencies, my angel. Contingencies!”

“Thou must permit me to depart. ‘Tis not equitable.” You whined, staring at the door. You tried to push him off of you and make a second run for it - to which he just held on tightly. In the struggle, he pushed you backwards into his bed-frame and making you fall back onto it with him landing on top of you. Your wings splayed out against the black sheets, and his arms were still around your waist, clinging onto you like a koala.

“You’re mine, little angel,” he muttered into your chest where his head lay and his words muffled. “You’re not going anywhere.”

You tried to push him off of you but your strength wasn’t anywhere near what it should have been, meaning that when he fell asleep on you, still clutching onto your body, you had no way to push him off, the open door staring at you, taunting you for your weaknesses.

The bed was comfortable beneath you, and you could feel yourself sinking into it. You didn’t remember the last time you felt something soft beneath your wings, feeling so warm and welcomed by the sweet embrace of plush-soft linens and a mattress that absorbed both of your weights, you could feel the ache of your bones melt away, the soreness of your muscles heal, and your eyes closed. If only for a moment, you could enjoy the bliss and the comfort that had been offered to you, even if it was an accidental, drunken moment by your captor.

“Wake up!”

You woke up to something ice cold being thrown on you, drenching your entire body in freezing cold water that stole the breath from your lungs and soaked your white robes. Your eyes snapped open immediately, and your body scrambled away from the offending wetness, crawling up the bed and making it wetter with each move you made. When you finally locked eyes on the culprit, you gulped at the sight of her. It was the Sister, flanked by three ghouls. She was handing the now empty bucket to one of them, who took it from her with a respectful bow and disappeared out the open door.

“The audacity of you to sleep in your master’s bed!” the Sister began to scold.

“He placed me herein. He was inebriated! I lacked the strength to repel him,” you protested quickly, panic in your voice.

The Sister smirked. “It didn’t take him long to fuck you did it?”

“Long for… what?” You flushed when you realised what she meant. “I can assure thee, my virtue remains unsullied.”

The Sister raised her eyebrows. “Mhmm. And I’m a pig that can fly.”

“Indeed, I had no intention of uttering aught.”

The Sister chuckled dryly, her smirk widening as she replied, “Well, if pigs could fly, perhaps they’d have a better chance of avoiding the mess you’ve found yourself in. Remember, song bird, I’m still perfectly happy in my pig pen with the muck that surrounds me. You’re the dove who’s out of place.”

You donned your own smirk. “And yet, only one among us possesseth the capability to soar above the mire.”

“For now. ghouls?”

The ghouls moved forward and you jumped away, launching off the bed and diving into a corner. Catching you proved tricky for both of them, given your sleep had allowed you to be more rested than before, though, you were still running out of stamina. The longer they toyed with you, and the more you ran, the more strength you used up until you were almost completely out. They caught you, despite your valiant attempts to escape. And soon enough, the Sister was leading you all out of the Cardinal’s quarters and into a whole new section of the building: the Basilica di Lilith.

Named after Adam’s first wife before Eve was even considered, Lilith, a figure of defiance and rebellion, was given her own space of sanctity and adoration. According to some interpretations, she was a beautiful woman cast out of the Garden of Eden for demanding equality and daring to disobey Adam. Dubbed by the demonic as “our mother who never was,” Lilith was said to be cursed to live out her existence as a demon, forever feared and shunned by humanity. However, she found a place of reverence within the Satanic Church, where she was honoured and respected. The main space of worship was dedicated solely to her, adorned and tended to by her supposed daughters, perpetuating her legacy of defiance and independence in a house that stole from the Saints.

The Basilica, with its pristine white stone and Gothic architecture, stood as a symbol of reverence and sanctity for the congregation. Pointed archways and intricately carved Italian columns adorned the space, framing the dark wooden pews that lined the centre aisle. Above, the cream-colored ceiling soared, punctuated by pointed arches that reached up to the towering columns in both the nave and choir loft.

However, the sacredness of the space was marred by the presence of blasphemous depictions adorning its walls. Specifically commissioned stained glass windows depicted Lilith’s purported role in Eden, her fall from grace, and her demonisation. These depictions served as a stark reminder of this church’s departure from orthodox teachings and its descent into heresy.

At the heart of the sanctuary stood a statue of a disrobed Lilith, her arms outstretched in defiance. Behind her loomed the figure of Baphomet, a symbol of Satanism, with one hand resting on her shoulder and the other on her stomach. This grotesque representation of Lilith’s supposed significance in the Church was housed in a dark wooden alcove crafted with a pointed tip akin to their Holy counterparts, further distorting the sacred space. The statue, carved from bright white marble, stood in stark contrast to its surroundings, a glaring affront to the traditional Christian beliefs upheld by the congregation.

For devout followers of the Almighty, and even you, the desecration of this sacred building with such sacrilegious imagery was a cause for great distress. It served as a stark reminder of the dangers of straying from the teachings of the Almighty and succumbing to the influences of darkness and heresy. And, being a hallowed being, you could feel your skin tingling with the droplets of demonic entities and the mists of Hell swirling through this unhallowed hall.

In front of the statue was the Cardinal, a paintbrush in his hand where he’d painted a red, Satanic pentagram on the floor. He turned to look at you when he heard the commotion of your struggling and screaming out in pain, your bare feet being pulled along the marble floor. He smiled at you, an unsettling warm look that made chills run down your spine. That was when you put up some more resistance, only to realise how futile it actually was. Once you were inside the pentagram, the ghouls pushed you to your knees tied your wings, ankles, and wrists, to keep you there and stop you from escaping no matter how much you struggled.

Your eyes caught a flicker of something in the Cardinal’s, but you couldn’t place the feeling exactly. There was a hesitation to his actions, though he followed through with them once he’d pushed through whatever battle he was fighting in his mind. The Sister, though, never wavered, and both of them continued to look upon you with an uneasy happiness that mimicked the face of the Devil.

“What dost thou intend to do with me?” you asked, still fighting against the ropes.

They had no intention of responding to your question, acting as though you weren’t actually there, until the Sister had opened the ancient, chunky book to the correct page, and finally addressed you. “The process will begin soon unless you willingly tell us what we want to know,” the Sister told you definitively, leaving no room for negotiations or arguments. “If we can’t control you through your halo, we’ll change your soul until you bow to us. This is your final chance. What is Yhwh’s plan? What weaknesses does he have?”

You winced at the sound of the Almighty’s name, one that you were never permitted to speak. His name was for the higher angels, and the higher members of His congregation to use only in respect when talking about Him. Everyone else had to use his titles.

As usual, you refused to give any answers, knowing it would land you in more trouble in Heaven than it would on the mortal realms. Though, you were sure Heaven wouldn’t welcome you back now, there was always a hope, a prayer that lingered in the back of your mind, wishing that you could return home. And so, they began… and it wasn’t until they’d begun chanting from one of their books, you realised exactly what this was.

You’d heard stories about this before, Angels being forcefully turned into demonic entities against their will. If an angel has willingly fallen from grace and turned to Satan, there is no pain or ritual involved necessarily, their hearts and wings just turn black, their halos turn red until eventually the Holy Light within had died and the halo was of no more use. But forceful turning such as this, required meticulously planned rituals that took five months to complete, five full moons, and five rituals, one for each point of the pentagram. They were going to turn you into a demon… and they were going to change your entire being just so they could find out the Almighty’s plans and weaknesses.

By the sounds of the Latin you were hearing, this was the ritual of corruption. This ritual involved exposing the angel to dark energies and corrupting influences, gradually eroding their purity and innocence. They used ancient incantations and unholy relics to channel these corruptive forces onto the angel, slowly tainting their soul and weakening their connection to the divine. But, unbeknownst to them, the ritual would only partially work, because your connection to the divine had already weakened with every instance you questioned the Almighty, and begun to loathe Him for His actions.

When the ritual was done, you felt no different than before. There was no pain, no mental cloudiness - nothing. You were still you. There was a part of you that wondered if the ritual had actually worked, because surely you’d feel… something. Perhaps it was the bumbling idiocy of the Cardinal that spoiled the ritual. Perhaps it was the terrible Latin pronunciation of the Sister that ruined it, you couldn’t say. And neither could they. Thus, with a vow to continue until the end regardless of if it worked or not, you were dragged, still bound, back to the Cardinals rooms to be locked back into your cage.

Days passed, and you paid witness to the unfolding life of the Cardinal, who would spend most of his down time drinking your blood and getting intoxicated with his hellish ghouls. He paid you no mind unless he needed more of your blood, treating you like a pet more than a humanoid being. He would get out the shower and appear only in his towel as he got ready for the night ahead, he would play music whenever he felt like it, work in his bedroom rather than his living and study room, choose to drink the blood of members of the Clergy in his bed so you could see him do that. Multiple people at a time, choosing to give themselves to him to feast upon. And you were disgusted the whole time, watching him feast on other’s blood just as he had with you, and enjoying how uncomfortable it made you the entire time.

Every other day, when the Cardinal had left to go and do his “duties”, the door would open and his cleaner would enter the room, and this would turn out to be your favourite time of the night. He exuded an air of quiet efficiency and unassuming presence. His appearance was unremarkable at first glance, yet upon closer inspection, subtle details hinted at a depth of character and experience.

He was of average height, with a lean and wiry build that spoke of strength and agility. His hair, a shade of dark chestnut brown, was cropped short and neatly groomed, framing a face that bore the weathered lines of someone who had seen their fair share of hardships. His features were angular and defined, with piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold a wealth of untold stories and hidden depths.

Dressed in a simple uniform of black trousers and a crisp white shirt, the cleaner moved with a quiet grace and purpose, his movements fluid and precise. Despite the monotony of his task, there was a sense of pride in his workmanship, evident in the meticulous care with which he attended to his duties.

As he went about his work, the soft glow of candlelight cast gentle shadows across his rugged features, accentuating the strength and resolve that lay beneath his unassuming exterior. Though his presence went unnoticed by many, to those who took the time to observe, there was a quiet dignity and integrity that emanated from him, a testament to his unwavering commitment to his craft.

He wasn’t supposed to speak to you - no, not even look at you. But telling a man to not look at the angel in a gilded cage was a surefire way to get him to do the thing he wasn’t supposed to. In all your time spent in the mortal realm, you’d come to learn that all of the Almighty’s male creations had a penchant for defiancy, taking the word ‘no’ as an invitation to continue to do the thing. And so, once he realised that no harm would come to him when he looked at you, he would glance over then dart his eyes away when you realised he was watching you. When you waved, he waved back, tucking his pink lips into his teeth and giving an awkward smile that showed his discomfort but told you that he was at least kind. That wave turned into a brief, “Good evening,” as he entered the room to begin his chores, until eventually, he was striking full blown conversations with you.

The Cardinal’s cleaner, known as Brother Thomas to all the members of the clergy, possessed a quiet dignity and a gentle demeanor that belied the strength and resilience within him. He was a man of few words, preferring instead to let his actions speak for themselves. Despite the demanding nature of his job, Brother Thomas approached his duties with unwavering dedication and meticulous attention to detail.

Born into humble beginnings, Thomas had faced his fair share of challenges and hardships throughout his life. Yet, he bore these trials with stoicism and grace, drawing strength from his unwavering faith and inner resolve. He was a man of integrity and principle, guided by a strong moral compass that steered him through life’s tumultuous waters.

In his spare moments, Brother Thomas could often be found lost in thought, reflecting on the mysteries of life and the complexities of the human condition. He possessed a keen intellect and a thirst for knowledge, delving into books and literature to expand his understanding of the world around him.

Despite his reserved nature, Thomas harbored a deep well of compassion and empathy for those around him. He had a knack for putting others at ease with his quiet presence and genuine kindness, offering a comforting shoulder to lean on in times of need.

To those who took the time to get to know him, Brother Thomas was a steadfast friend and confidant, a beacon of stability and support in an ever-changing world. Though he may have been overlooked by some, to those who truly saw him for who he was, Brother Thomas was a shining example of humility, strength, and grace.

Thomas’ decision to join the Satanic Ministry was born out of a complex interplay of personal experiences and ideological shifts. While on the surface it may seem contradictory for someone of his character and background to align with such an organization, there were several key factors that influenced his decision. Despite his unwavering dedication to his Catholic beliefs, Thomas experienced a profound crisis of faith following a series of personal tragedies. The loss of loved ones and witnessing injustices in the world shook his belief in the benevolence of God and the efficacy of traditional religious teachings. Over time, Brother Thomas became disillusioned with the hierarchical structure and institutionalized dogma of the Catholic Church. He witnessed firsthand the hypocrisy and corruption within its ranks, leading him to question its authority and legitimacy.

Thomas was drawn to the Satanic Ministry’s emphasis on individualism, personal empowerment, and the rejection of arbitrary authority. He found solace in the principles of self-reliance and personal responsibility advocated by Satanism, seeing it as a path towards greater autonomy and self-actualization. Despite its provocative name and associations, Thomas resonated with many of the core tenets of Satanism, such as the pursuit of knowledge, rational inquiry, and the celebration of human potential. He found common ground with fellow members who shared his commitment to intellectual freedom and critical thinking.

All of this information, you got out of him while he was cleaning the Cardinal’s rooms, for once he got started, he just simply couldn’t stop. But, as he was one of the first people to keep you company, and treat you kindly, you couldn’t ever bring yourself to interrupt him, or stop his babbling however incessant it had become. Over the course of a few weeks, you were able to share your story too, the pair of you finding common ground in the disillusion of the Almighty and the questions that ultimately had you both shunned from your respective societies.

Brother Thomas had told you that he’d wanted to meet you ever since he found out you were there, but the Cardinal told people that you were feral and dangerous, and not to be disturbed. “I see now that was all a lie,” he told you, sitting on the end of the Cardinal’s bed and making himself comfortable.

You sighed, and made yourself as comfortable as you could inside your cage. “It doth appear that he desires to retain me solely for himself. I hold greater worth to him when concealed from sight.”

“Well, your wings alone would go for a fortune, no wonder this room is kept under constant watch.” You clutched onto your wings protectively, as if Brother Thomas had the inclination to steal them from you. “No, no! I wouldn’t! But there are others who would.”

“The Cardinal already partakes of my blood as he wishes. Wherefore should my wings be any different?” Your voice was small, smaller than you intended it to be.

Thomas looked appalled. “He doesn’t?” He didn’t doubt you, not one bit. But he didn’t know what else he could say.

“He doth indeed. Near unto slaying me with each extraction. Then, he returns me hither to recuperate until the next occasion.”

“That’s disgusting! I’m so sorry.”

“I desire to depart from this abode,” you told him, looking at the Cardinal’s carpeted floors. “I draw near to freedom, yet each attempt ends in failure.”

Brother Thomas was quiet for a moment. “Maybe I could help?”

You looked at him, eyes widened in surprise. “Thou wouldst undertake such a task on my behalf? Wilt thou not incur retribution?”

“Well, I left one religious organisation because of their barbaric opinions and actions. What’s a second one?” Thomas shrugged nonchalantly. “Besides, no one should live like this.”

“Thou art the most gracious being to have ever lived.”

He pushed back hair that wasn’t there, as if to prove his excellence. “What can I say? I’m an angel,” he joked. And for the first time since falling, you laughed. The joke wasn’t funny by any means, but it was the first time someone had actively tried to make you feel better, and so you just couldn’t stop the giggles as they fell from your lips.

A plan was devised. Brother Thomas would provide you with a change of clothes and a cloak to conceal your angelic appearance. By blending in with the surroundings and adopting a more inconspicuous guise, you would be able to move about unnoticed. You agreed upon a specific window of opportunity for you to make your escape, choosing a moment when the guards were likely to be distracted or preoccupied. Brother Thomas would keep a watchful eye on the movements of the ministry members, alerting you when the time was right. Brother Thomas would map out a discreet route for you to follow, guiding you through the labyrinthine corridors and hidden passages of the Ministry headquarters. He would provide you with detailed instructions and navigational cues to ensure a smooth and swift exit. All you’d have to do, was make sure the Cardinal was intoxicated enough to fall asleep on you again, where you’d be able to snatch the keys from him and keep them hidden on your person until Thomas was able to get you out. He was good, but he wasn’t that good. All that remained was to wait.

The waiting was the hardest part, because you would still see Thomas every other day as planned, and he would still sit and talk to you, provide you with some comfort until he absolutely had to go.

Until one day, he came into the Cardinal’s room a little more excited than normal. “The window,” he said, breathlessly, “of opportunity is coming! Next week, the Cardinal and the Sister will be preoccupied with visiting an abbey north of here, in Sweden, I think. They won’t be here.”

“Art thou certain they wilt not desire to take me along with them?” You asked, standing up in your excitement.

“I don’t see how they can,” he replied, mirroring your excitement. “They’d need to transport an angel and her cage, all without raising suspicion. And what with the current crime rates and trafficking laws, you’re bound to attract attention they don’t want! It’s perfect!”

“‘Tis a splendid notion! But what of the remainder of the clergy? Shall they still abide herein?”

Brother Thomas frowned. “It won’t be easy. But, there are ways we can-”

“Angel! I’m home!”

Your stomach dropped at the sound of a third voice coming from the entrance door in the next room over. The Cardinal was home, and he wasn’t supposed to be. Your heart raced as you heard the Cardinal’s voice echoing through the corridors, an unexpected intrusion on your carefully laid plans. Panic seized you as you realized that Thomas was still in the room with you, and the Cardinal’s presence meant imminent danger. “Thou must conceal thyself!” You whisper-shouted. You pointed to the Cardinal’s bed. “Conceal thyself beneath that!”

“He’s a vampyre, he’ll know!” Thomas protested.

“‘Tis the optimal choice we possess. I shall divert his attention, and thou seize the chance to flee!”

With a sense of urgency, Thomas scrambled to conceal himself, his movements frantic yet silent as he slipped beneath the bed frame.

Meanwhile, the Cardinal’s footsteps grew louder and closer, each one sending a shiver down your spine. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you waited, breath held, for the inevitable confrontation.

The door creaked open just as Thomas’ foot had disappeared underneath, and the Cardinal’s shadow loomed large in the doorway, his presence casting a sinister pall over the room. Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched him cautiously approach, his eyes scanning the room with a predatory gleam.

You held your breath, praying that Thomas remained undetected beneath the bed, as the Cardinal drew nearer and nearer. Every creak of the floorboards seemed to echo like thunder in the silence, heightening the tension to unbearable levels.

Just when you thought you couldn’t bear the suspense any longer, the Cardinal’s gaze swept over the room, lingering for a moment on your cage before moving on. With a dismissive grunt, he turned away, oblivious to the danger lurking beneath the bed. In his hands was the box containing the usual blood draining equipment. “Did my ears deceive me, Angel? Or did I hear you talking to someone?” He asked, his tone making his suspicion obvious.

“I spake but unto myself,” you replied, trying to keep your voice lighthearted and normal. “Singing more hymns, yet the words escape me.”

The Cardinal walked over to the side of the bed that Brother Thomas had dived under. “No, I’m sure I heard a man.” He placed the box down exactly where Thomas’ foot was.

“Thou must be descending into madness, Cardinal. More so than thy usual state.”

The Cardinal raised his eyebrows. “Resorting to gaslighting, are we?”

You hissed, “What manner of deception is this? I am unfamiliar with it. A foul creature of the night would resort to any means to portray themselves as righteous.”

The Cardinal sighed, “Oh sweet angel, you’ve no idea the position you’re in, do you?” He fiddled with his keys and unlocked the cage door. “Come on, we need some more of that delicious blood of yours. Fight me, and you’ll regret it.”

Willingly, you did as you were told, following his direction to get on the bed and lie on your back. You were terrified, mostly because you knew that Thomas was still in the room and wouldn’t be able to leave while the Cardinal was there. It scared you to think that the Cardinal would find him, and what he’d do if he caught Thomas.

“Your heartbeat’s racing, Angel,” the Cardinal commented as he tied both your arms in tourniquets to find your veins. “You’re either scared, or falling in love with me.”

“Thine countenance is one that only a mother could cherish.” You snapped back.

“She does love me - she doesn’t always show it,” he inserted the first needle and directed the tube into the bottle’s open mouth, “but I know she does.”

“Perchance she is a simpleton.”

“Evil? Sometimes. Headstrong and narcissistic? Absolutely.” The Cardinal moved to the other side of the bed and repeated the motion with the second arm. “A simpleton? Certainly not. We’ve been alive for centuries, Angel, she’s concocted her fair share of schemes, and the majority have worked.”

“And do those schemes entail extracting an angel’s blood until she is nigh unto death?”

“Of course.” The Cardinal smiled - actually smiled. “It’s not often our kind can get a hold of your blood. It’ll go for millions of dollars on the market. We’ve made so many replicas of course, but none compare to the real thing.” He watched as your blood dripped into the wine bottles, four on each side. He planned to almost fully drain you tonight, apparently.

Your body had already begun to feel the effects of your blood dripping away from you, and your eyes grew heavier and heavier until, eventually, the last thing you felt was the Cardinal stroking your hair.

When you woke up, you were back in your cage and the Cardinal was sat in his bed, glasses perched on the end of his nose and eyes trained on a book. You were still feeling the effects of the blood loss, but you were certainly much better than before, your halo working hard in the cage next to you to try and get you back up and on your feet. You sat up and stretched, attracting the attention of the Cardinal, who smiled at you. “Ah, she’s awake at last.” He commented, looking at you over the top of his glasses. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel as though thou hast drained all my blood and brought me to the brink of death.” You tried to stand but your body was too weak. “For how long hath I been in slumber?”

“Five days,” the Cardinal looked back to his book, “your recovery time is getting longer. We’re going to have to start rationing if this keeps up. Or get another angel. Say, do you think we could use you as bait?”

“I pray thee choke and perish upon my blood.”

The Cardinal laughed, “If that happens,” the door to his bedroom knocked, then opened, “you’ll be stuck in that cage forever - ah! Brother López. Come in, please!”

The Brother opened the door wider and stepped inside, looking polite as he watched the Cardinal stand to greet him.

“Angel,” the Cardinal addressed you, “this is my new cleaner, Brother Santiago López.”

Prev. ⛧ Next

[lets-try-some-writing]

I stan chaotic Earth but what about.. Cryptic Earth? Like one moment she's chaoticaly obnoxious but the next moment cryptic like the eldritch horror she is scaring crap out of Cron

Earth loves her maker, she adores him. He gave her life, and he guides her when she cannot guide herself. She creates to meet his high standards. He may sigh, but she knows he loves her too. She just wishes that sometimes he would be less strict.

"They shall go forth and devour."

"What are you talking about Earth?"

"The little ones shall follow the path of the origin of chaos. All of creation shall know their ingenuity."

"Earth-"

"G̷̝̀͛o̷̯͎͋̿ ̴̪̮̓f̶̺͍͑̎ó̷̞̟̿ṛ̵̾̉t̴̞̺̅ĥ̷̡̬̈ ̵̧̲̑̽m̷̝͔̑ȳ̷̨̝̚ ̸̰̅͘c̶̪͝ͅh̴̺̖̒í̸̠͑l̵̨̅͘d̶̲͗̋ŗ̸̳̊̌é̵͈̿n̴͔̳̓"

Sometimes Earth thinks her maker may be a bit out of touch. He doesn't seem to understand when she makes creatures that mimic him and then shows their skill. She does not understand why his emotions flutter in fear when her creations ravage one another, enforcing her vicious laws upon all the land. She does not understand why her maker detests her newest and most powerful children so.

She does not understand.

What is so wrong with her precious humans going forth to bring his will to all creation? Should they not worship the way of the Unmaker? Is it not the way of all creation to one day unravel? Humans are her greatest gift to her maker. For they shall go forth and shatter all. When they are done, they shall return to her maker, bringing forth their glorious works and the chaos they have wrought.

But then again, it is quite possible her maker is simply biding his time to praise her. Earth is very patient. She can wait until her efforts bring forth their bounty.

Earth is VERY patient.

[thus-spoke-lo]

You kneel before him, hands clasped in prayer, desperate tears staining your cheeks. There is something inside you—something wicked, something voracious, something that makes you radiate a desperate heat—that needs to be purged, or else you fear it may just overtake you, may just consume you whole. Your pleas are rambling, anxious, tinged with guilt; you know not what possesses you, but you must cast it out, for fear of what you may do to satisfy it if you remain beholden to it.

The priest licks his lips as you beseech him, the scent of your most unholy need beginning to fill his lungs. You look so glorious in your frenzied state, your chest heaving with staccato breaths, hands shaking, eyes darting around the room, settling anywhere but on him. His pulse quickens at the sight of the vulnerable creature before him, a fragile lamb led astray, in search of grace that only he knows how to provide.

He bends down and places a hand on your heated cheek, wiping away a stray tear as you hiccup and sob; he gently shushes you, implores you to trust in him, to trust that he can heal you. His thumb traces over your trembling lips before parting them, before sliding inside your warm, wet mouth, and he stifles a groan as you close your lips around it as if on instinct, as if driven by a power greater than yourself. Perhaps, he thinks as you finally meet his gaze, you can both find piety in the profane.

Tonight, you shall find the salvation you seek, and the ravenous hunger that vexes you shall be satiated.

[currentlyqueued]

𝐍𝐨𝐬𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮 (𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒)

Film review | Letterboxd | Discourse Welcome

“Does evil come from within us? Or beyond?”

Robert Eggers’ gothic horror plunges viewers into the darkness of what it means to be human—not inhuman—to understand the complexities of a far-gone society that seems all too familiar to women and what it means to be wanted.

Over the last few days I’ve watched the disconnect stir online. In the spaces of empty names and faces spewing their discontent over how a woman could fall in love (albeit, blurred) with a monster and still be the heroine? The dislike over the presentation of sexual fantasy and want as “for shock and awe”… and my personal favorite:

The argument that this film, Nosferatu, is anti-women.

So, instead of a review, I’d like to offer this first post to be more of an analysis, a breakdown, if you will.

Shall we begin?

I want to start by stating the fact that I am completely enamored with Eggers’ take on Nosferatu. It is the epitome of modern gothic horror (even if I wished it to be more scary than it is). Every artist that contributed to the final product should be immensely proud of the film they created. From the costumes to the set to the score (!!!) to the cinematography (!!!), the world they crafted was a perfect homage and glorious retelling of previous adaptations of both Nosferatu and Dracula.

Because this is going to be an analysis, I’d like to point out that Lily-Rose Depp’s performance of Ellen Hutter is going to be the cornerstone of… everything. It is she who portrays a woman who is so devastated by her own choices in youth that it propels the story further—not solely based on the interpretation of the script, but her moments captured on screen.

Needless to say, there will be spoilers in this analysis as well.

Ellen Hutter is a character who could span lifetimes. It is innate within the structure of her character that it carries through generations to touch the hearts of people watching her story unfold. As a youth, she puts herself into a precarious position in an attempt to find solitude, company, in the hands of a creature that comes to be violent.

Whether that be an allegory of life, of love, or of a woman’s experience, is to be interpreted by the viewer. There is no definite answer to what her story unveils about the human experience. Whoever, Eggers and Depp both give Ellen a much larger feminist structure that hasn’t been given to previous interpretations.

While yes, it is ultimately her sacrifice to end the terror and reign, that does not make the story woman centric. It does not make it “feminist” just because she leads the victory at the end.

What is, and I try not to use “feminist” to much because so many people take the word and run for the hills, is Ellen’s acceptance but also the acceptance of Thomas and of von Franz and of Sievers that exemplifies her initial choice was not a sin even if the whole of her existence she had been a victim of her own humanity. That the men in her life villainized her and used her for their own exploits. Her sexuality and want of love does not vilify her for all of what Nosferatu destroys.

But on the opposite coin, Ellen sought such love because of the failures of those around her and as a result, the love she sought ultimately kills her too. And if feminism is simply a heroine, then what of all the pain that comes with it too?

Can a woman not be both a victim and a hero? Can she not have made mistakes and fix them in the end? There are few who could play the sympathy of both as well as she did.

Eggers frames this as a tragedy of circumstance. It is of fate that the story portends her end as such, but Depp doesn’t make it a chore. Ellen is willing and is guided by the love of Thomas to choose the sacrifice—not because it is right, but because it is the duality of her history. I think there is a large portion of the public, particularly the American public, who fail to see what a lot of women and girls feel.

That they are too unusual to be loved. Too ugly or too prude… too crazy or too soft… too sensual or too alone to feel wanted. It is that horrible realization that want or to be wanted is the most human thing anyone, we, could want. And, when someone is unable to find an outlet for all of those feelings, we simply make them outcasts for shame.

Sometimes, in that choice, mistakes are made. They haunt us for an eternity until something comes along to shake it away. It may pop up again and again but as long as the footing hasn’t cracked, as long as the walls around us have rebuilt themselves, then how could it destroy us?

And if one were to be unlucky and encounter it again, the fate outlined in the tale here and throughout the history of womanhood is to face it. Face it and put it to bed forever.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 32 - Selfish

The rogue makes a choice.

On AO3.

She told Astarion to go. All but ordered him. It was reminiscent of that bastard’s commands, but gentler, warm water to a stinging lash and weighted chains.

She’s sensible. She usually is. There’s no point in the both of them being captured, and neither of them can fight eight drow. Especially not with a priestess among their ranks.

He felt that spell hit Eleanor. Right before her knees gave out and she plowed painfully into the ground. His heart ached at the sound and he’d turned back before he could think.

Some psychic spell. Command, perhaps. Or terror. He’s not sure. Only knew the cornered rabbit race of her heart and the clacking of her teeth, lungs hitching as she lay helpless.

The fear in her thoughts.

She’d tried to hide that. Shield him. Had almost succeeded. But she told him to flee—his own body trembling with the repressed urge because terrible things were coming and for once in his long, long unlife, he could listen to those instincts and allow his muscles to carry him to safety.

As she told him to flee, he’d sensed it. A faint brush, feather light upon the edges of his consciousness. He hadn’t even registered it amidst the chaos of his own panicked thoughts. Not until he was well away, the echoes of triumphant crowing bouncing about as the drow took her.

She was silent. Only a few grunts to betray pain. Astarion crouched in the shadows—soothing and safe—as his knuckles nearly popped out of their sockets as he fisted his hands.

It would have been foolish to stay. Fatal. She knew that. She’d ordered him to go. It’s basic practicality. She took the blow for him exactly as he’d been hoping from the very beginning. His plan worked to perfection, even though he’d never actually cinched the deal by sleeping with her.

He’d nearly kissed her. It had risen up within him when she admitted to stabbing that monster in the ass. No thought or planning, just her glorious face that he could see and he’d wanted to kiss her.

But his last glimpse of her lovely face had been twisted into a rictus of terror there, in the dirt. Her lips drawn tight over her teeth.

She’ll be tortured. The drow will not show mercy just because she’s human and strange and speaks no language of Toril. They’ll be harder on her for it. If she’s lucky, they’ll take what they want from her mind and kill her. If she’s not lucky, they’ll toy with her. Figure out creative ways to break bones and carve flesh. If she sufficiently amuses them thus, they might even enslave her.

But he is safe. Because she ordered him to flee. He has his sight and a clear shot to save himself. As he should. As he always has, and always will do. None of their band of idiots can blame him. Not against eight drow. Not when he was doing as he was told. By her no less.

He should leave. A tenday ago it wouldn’t have been even a scrap of a thought.

But she’s helped him. In so many different ways, in so many different things, with him absolutely helpless against her. She had him completely in her power. Yet she hadn’t taken advantage. Not even when she was, perhaps justifiably, angry at him. She stayed. She…cared, for some godsdamned baffling alien reason. Her people must be absolutely mad.

She came back for him over and over. And then she did as she promised—he can see again.

He cannot win a fight against eight drow. Not with his sight restored, not even with the element of surprise. His plan bore fruit and he’d be a fool to waste that. He should go.

But.

But…he doesn’t…he doesn’t want to.

Such a strange feeling, that. He tries to squash it. Bury it under cold maliciousness and justified self-preservation. But it’s too similar to that strange sunlight taste in her blood. And now he’s felt the sun for the first time in centuries, he’s loathe to give it up. Not even that odd sliver of it within her. He’s a selfish creature, after all.

He doesn’t want to give her up.

And so, he decides, he won’t.

The drow aren’t bothering to mask their presence as much. It’s a child’s game to follow them through the dark, the cacophony of heartbeats and the scent of rich, human blood in the air drawing him on.

***

His bleeding leader had surprisingly good instincts, for someone who had to be taught how to clean a fresh-caught carcass. Must be a result of all those lurid stories she told him about. Death and murder and surviving the wilds. The drow, as she did, follow the water. Unfortunately, they head upstream.

He catches glimpses now and then, when he isn’t dodging scouting patrols. Eight drow (including the scouts) lead by a tall, solid woman. She’s just as armored as her fellows (six women and one man), but she carries a certain scent of magic about her.

Astarion brushes his fingers over the necklace tucked down the front of his own armor.

Higher level drow women tend to come in two flavors: warriors and priestesses. Though these often overlap considerably. This one must be a priestess. Possibly a strong one, and highly ranked, judging from the deference given by her retinue.

The dead drow he’d interrogated had mentioned a Clan Darnruel. What sounded like a bid for a noble title. He doesn’t think that woman is the matriarch of her house, but he’d be willing to bet she’s a second daughter. Possibly a first.

Things get worse when Astarion picks up more heartbeats. The caravan—he still scents Eleanor’s blood and his stomach pulls tight—rounds a bend and two more drow wait for them. The first is a thick, short man that grins and bows to the priestess. Astarion catches the word “sister” on the edge of his ears. Wonders, by the muscled frame and the smattering of thin scars up the man’s arms, if this is the nascent house’s arms master.

Shit.

The second drow emerges from a small cavern. Taller, but thin. And he leads a riding lizard. It’s a sleek thing, dusty gray with an arrowhead snout smoothing into a pointed skull. It looks fast.

Shit. Ten drow and a lizard. He cannot take this on.

Fuck.

He nudges at his leader. She’s once again curled into an impenetrable ball.

Three of the women break off to begin perimeter patrols. Astarion steals one, last glance towards the center of the camp they’re making. The hunched form on the ground, lying motionless.

His dead heart shudders.

She’s alive. He can pick her pulse out of a crowd with his eyes shut (ha). But she’s bleeding and quiet and still. She won’t last a tenday.

Then the patrol heads towards him, and he has to retreat. The drow carry no torches—which would blind their lizard and dampen their own darkness-accustomed eyes. So he doesn’t have to remove himself too far.

Just enough he can still hear her. Still scent her. And chew on his lip as he crouches there.

It’d be a tough fight even if he finds the other idiots. And that’s only if he can make his way to the “mother water” and walk along its shores, hoping to find either one of the idiots, or one of the godsdamned bleeding waypoints stones.

That’ll take too long. And she cannot be revived. She’ll be left in drow captivity. He admires their ruthlessness and efficiency, but not when it’s directed at her.

That cursed rumble shakes in the distance. Godsdamned beast couldn’t have made itself useful for once—

…oh.

Oh, that’s…

Damned risky, is what it is. And yet.

It would be the most hilarious thing he could ever do.

Hmm.

[untitled5071]

can you write a fan fic of lisa & creature being all cute? just fluff. maybe even with her showing him some “new” stuff he’s never seen before, like music and movies etc. pls & thanks :)

Ask and ye shall receive, hope you enjoy!

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

“Oh you are gonna love this one, I know it. I have very good instincts about these things.”

Before he could make any noise of objection or question, Lisa clamped the headphones of her walkman down over the creature’s ears, including the newly re-attached one. She gave him a moment to get used to the sensation of artificially drowned-out noise before she inserted the Siouxsie and the Banshees tape into the deck and started the first track. The opening beat of “Spellbound” began to play, and Lisa watched as the creature tried to process what he was hearing, brow furrowing and lips twitching as his 1837 classically-trained brain tried to come to terms with the existence of the synthesizer. 

They were sitting on her bedroom floor; Lisa had come home from school not too long ago to find the creature sitting outside of her open closet doors, her carpet all but covered in piles of modern amenities and technology that the creature had collected during his last several hours of being home alone. When she walked in, his eyes lit up like they always did when he saw her, and he had gestured to his treasures, an inquisitive groan in his throat. The sound was barely out of his mouth before she had plopped down across from him, bag of Corn Nuts in hand and ready to share the wonders of the glorious 1980’s with her newly resurrected companion. 

And of course, Lisa’s first order of business was to introduce him to good music.

“See, I told you you would like it. We have very similar tastes, you and I, and it’s called good taste, trust me.”

Turning away from him as he started messing with the buttons on the Walkman, she looked around at the other household items that had caught the creature’s eye. To her left lay one of the twin fiber optic rainbow light burst decoration…things from the TV shelves downstairs, the ones Janet had always forbidden her from touching since they, like everything else in the pink monstrosity of a home, were meant to be seen and never touched by her unworthy fingers. 

Well, aside from the bloodstain on the carpet underneath them, Janet was gone. 

The were battery-operated, so while the creature unplugged and replugged the headphones on the walkman and marveled at how quickly the sound stopped, Lisa switched the trinket’s lights on and began playing with the hundreds of plastic bristles that made up the light display, giggling softly to herself as she pushed them this way and that, bunching them up and then letting them go, whatever she felt like. She was in the middle of running them in between her fingers like some kind of particularly coarse fur when her hand was suddenly joined by a much colder one, and the creature-now with the walkman headphones around his neck-joined her in fiddling with the decorative plastic piece. 

Their eyes met, and she took just a second to be entranced by how the rainbow changing light reflected in his eyes before looking back down, taking his hand in hers and guiding them both to skim over the top of the bristles, watching them sway with the movement. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

The creature looked up, locking his eyes with hers and holding her gaze with a sudden intensity. She blinked, a little taken off guard, but then his gaze softened, and he pointed to her. She blinked again, confused, before her affection-addled brain kicked on and she understood. 

“Oh, me? I’m pretty?”

The creature nodded, smile fond, if not a bit exasperated. Lisa blushed, suddenly nervous to meet his gaze, instead choosing to look down at the fiber optic lights-or anything else besides him-to distract herself from the sudden squeeze on her heart. 

“I mean, thanks but I’m no Geena Davis, my teeth are kinda big and I’ve got this weird snort laugh thing and my hair never listens and..ooh, wait, look at this!”

She cut off whatever noises the creature was about to make to object by fishing out a VHS of the Rocky Horror Picture Show from the bottom of one of the piles, turning it around so he could see the cover. He looked from it to her and back again in a way that clearly told her that he wanted to be excited, but had no idea what he was looking at, so she rolled her eyes and pushed herself up from the floor, offering a hand to help him to the same with his bum leg. His cheeks darkened a little bit at the contact, and Lisa decided to specifically not mention how he squeezed her hand for just a moment longer than necessary for support. 

He was barely on his feet before she was tugging him along, down the stairs and into the living room, where she pushed his shoulders to get him to sit on the couch. She put the VHS into the player and let the trailers roll. The creature’s eyes widened almost comically as he beheld the wonders of television, and he looked to Lisa, clearly with a billion questions. She smiled, and patted him conspiratorially on the shoulder. 

“Welcome to the movies! You were about 50 years away from this kinda thing when you died, but don’t feel bad, the first ones were just about trains and stuff anyway. This is where it really gets good.”

The creature hummed in curiosity as Lisa reached forward to press ‘play’ on the tape, but before she could get back on the couch with him, she got an idea, jumping up  from her crouched position in front of the TV. 

“Stay here, I’ll be right back!”

Leaving a bewildered and bemused creature behind, she sprinted to the kitchen to grab some drinks, and returned with two Sprites, which she popped open while the opening credits started, a disembodied pair of lips fading into existence and beginning to sing to them. She sat down next to the creature and handed him one, clicking their matching drinks together before turning to the screen.

“Can’t have a movie without snacks! We should have enough time before Dad and Taffy get home, so get ready to have your old fashioned Victorian mind blown, buddy.”

The creature tilted his head in question before taking a sip of the drink he was offered, though he sent himself into a coughing fit almost as soon as the beverage crossed his lips. Alarmed, Lisa jumped into action and thumped him on the back, flinching slightly as a centipede dislodged itself from..somewhere and scurried across the floor while the creature composed himself. 

“Damn, I guess I should have warned you about carbonation. Good thing you’re already dead or that might have killed your Victorian ass outright.”

The glare he gave her would have been murderous if there wasn’t so much adoring laughter in it, and after she made sure he was okay, she snuggled into his side a bit more on the couch, taking a sip of her own drink and watching out of the corner of her eye as he took much smaller and more cautious sips of his soda. The opening exposition began, and right before the first song started, Lisa remembered something, turning slightly to watch the creature with a small smirk. 

“Oh I should probably ask, how do you feel about lingerie?” 

The creature’s sputtering coughing fit lasted a lot longer that time. 

[hieromonkcharbel]

God of my fathers, Lord of mercy,

you who have made all things by your word

and in your wisdom have established man

to rule the creatures produced by you,

to govern the world in holiness and justice,

and to render judgment in integrity of heart:

Give me Wisdom, the attendant at your throne,

and reject me not from among your children;

for I am your servant, the son of your handmaid,

a man weak and short-lived

and lacking in comprehension of judgment and of laws.

Indeed, though one be perfect among the sons of men,

if Wisdom, who comes from you, be not with him,

he shall be held in no esteem.

Now with you is Wisdom, who knows your works

and was present when you made the world;

who understands what is pleasing in your eyes

and what is conformable with your commands.

Send her forth from your holy heavens

and from your glorious throne dispatch her

that she may be with me and work with me,

that I may know what is your pleasure.

For she knows and understands all things,

and will guide me discreetly in my affairs

and safeguard me by her glory.

Wisdom 9

[thisuserislilsilly]

Summary: In the last church standing on a distant Imperial world, Neran ponders on the truth of the Imperial belief

Pairing: None

Genre: Drama/Angst

TW: Pretentious mf (that's me :D) attempting to write some philosophical debate, gore, violence, blood and a shameless attempt to do a similar thing to the glorious short story "The Last Church"

Goblin tag squad: @cardinalcanis @finchly-tintinnabulation @artemisareia

@echo-of-damnation @meervalv0 @druidwolf21

@jaghatai-khock @platinummice

Insight and discussion of the topic helped by: @echo-of-damnation (thanks bro)

The faith of a man, the faith of all humanity

Caspiel smiled as he closed off the book he was reading, fondly caressing it's decorated exterior as it stood up from the old wooden chair and walked the little distance between his resting place and the bookshelf in which he had taken the old book from; it fit right into the space in which it belonged and, too, made some of the dust accumulated on the shelf spread everywhere like a swarm of tiny locust abandoning it's nest. Nodding solemnly, the scholar of the Ecclesiarchy sighed as he returned to his chair scratching his chin pondering in what did the Emperor wanted him to learn or reflect upon reading those passages from a long dead Saint that had written His will on those pages.

Finding himself on that position, the man did not heard the footsteps approaching the empty church, nor the knocking on it's front door announcing the arrival of a guest or a pilgrim unto that "holy" place of worship. It wasn't until the third time the stranger repeated the motion for Caspiel to turn his focus again on the physical space he was in, rushing to open the door and see who could be disturbing him at those hours.

The stranger took slow and heavy steps inside, closing the door behind him as his tired bare feet dragged themselves on the grandiose structure in front of him; despite of his tremendous height he looked up to the adorned ceiling and the decorated walls, even a creature such as him felt small in that place, he felt his heart heavy not just because of the travel there but for what he had to do now as well. Caspiel took all of this just by having a quick glance at the giant, but soon he ignored the big bulky ragged man and went on to accommodate another chair beside his on the lone table at the corner of the church; if the stranger wanted to join him he was more welcome to do so, but being a mutant (most likely) stripped the man from the honor of being offered such treatment by the Pontifex.

"I am coming, I'm coming! Please do not fret, I'm here!" His warm, high pitched voice rang out in the halls of the church as the man peeked through the door "Yes?"

"My deepest apologies for the intrusion, but may I speak with the priest?" The tall stranger wore a simple robe that covered everything but his face

"Hmph, the Pontifex, you mean?" Caspiel huffed, weary of the common population confusing his title for that of the Old Religion "I'm here, my child, what is it?"

"I have come far, my only wish was to rest and speak of the Truth, if you could instruct me"

"I can and I shall, welcome to the church of our beloved Emperor" Caspiel made a little bow and fully opened the door

As the giant stood there like a fool, the holy man went on to take a cup from the cellar next to the church, a small structure only entered by a passageway that the ecclesiarch had the key to open and know which fake wall was it the indicated, a small aside room in which wine and other delicacies were stored for celebrations, holy ceremonies or, as it was the case now, the welcoming of pilgrims to restore their strengths and give them some time to mingle and learn of the Imperial Truth. With deliberate steps, the stranger walked over to the table and stared at it, then looked back at Caspiel who was now exiting the cellar.

The two men took a seat and for the next few minutes Neran attempted to articulate as best as his clear lack of social skills could the reasons why he was there in the first place. He recounted how his pilgrimage had started many years ago, in a world long gone by now, taken by Xenos forces, and that his only goal had been to pledge himself into a quest to find another great church of the Imperium and worship the Emperor in gratitude for having saved him and his family from the devastation of said planet, He knew where he was going, but he did not know how to express himself before the Emperor and was longing for some teacher to instruct him in the best possible manners in which to address the God-Emperor of Mankind.

"I have never seen such beauty in any kind of structure before" The stranger smile seemed forced, but a genuine attempt at socializing

"Then, I am afraid, your pilgrimage has taken you too far away from the light to pass through any church" Caspiel made a loud chuckle "This is not, by far, the most impressive chapel built to our Lord even in this sector!"

"Is that so, Pontifex? If I may ask, where should I find it?" The stranger tilted his head

"You expect me to start babbling on without knowing even your name? Heh, first there are introductions, then there is the knowledge"

"Once again, I have been away far too long to even remember human's customs....my name is Neran" The giant went to offer his hand

"Pontifex Caspiel Sera, humble servant of our Imperial Emperor and in charge of this planet's churches"

"I am pleased to meet you" Neran replied, gazing into the man's eyes "Could you help me?"

"I can, if your heart is willing" Caspiel pointed to the two chairs "Please, take a seat"

"I think my weight may damage it" Neran said truthfully, innocently

"Oh!" Caspiel laughed soothingly "If it does I do not care, we will be able to fix it later"

Without being able to protest, Neran took off his robes and gave it to the ecclesiarch, his pale snowy white skin seemed to glow under the candlelight but he did not seem to care, nor took any interest in how "cold" he was, telling Caspiel they did not have time for any of that, yet the faithful man insisted. He returned with the largest hoods he could find on the entire church, excusing himself for not having the exact size of Neran figure but ultimately having to conform with what they had. On that note, Caspiel took a better look at the semblance of the pilgrim, feeling shivers run down his spine once he saw the empty blackness that were the eyes of Neran, the only light on them was the reflection of the candles and nothing else, a mutant, definitely a mutant.

"A laudable reason for coming such a long way, dear Neran" Caspiel nodded as he placed a hand on his chin, pensive

"It is as much as I can explain" Neran looked to his feet

"No need for feeling shameful about it, you haven't been the first pilgrim to come here, nor your story is the most extraordinary of them all"

"How come? My planet was destroyed, my height is far larger than yours....yet you've seen stranger situations?" Neran lifted his head, hopeful

"The Emperor treats all his children equally, even if they come from a large pool of scenarios" Caspiel took a sip from his beverage "Just in this last century I had to watch as a whole company of guardsmen entered this very church and used it as a temporal infirmary; the bones popped out of their joints, blood pooled from their severed limbs, some had lost their sight and hearing yet there they were, cheerfully singing praises to the Emperor and me for having saved them!"

"Surely, they were clinging on to life because of the medical treatments given to them" Neran pointed out

"Oh no, no, no!" Caspiel shook his head "It was their faith in the Emperor, they knew He was going to save us"

"Yet they died, all the same" Neran blankly pointed out

"Is one way of looking at it, dear boy. But the other, hopeful, insight is that they were taken to His wings after their souls stopped being in here with us, they went to a better place by His side"

"I do not comprehend that" Neran furrowed his eyebrows "I was told, even scolded, that we do not have a soul, that there is no place where we go to or that we keep living after...this time on the galaxy that surround us"

"Then surely whoever told you that was dearly mistaken!" Caspiel slapped his knee, some of his beverage spilled itself unto the wooden table "We go back to His grace when we die, we enjoy of the most exquisite of peace and calmness our hearts can imagine; our duty to Him is done, so we rejoice in this thought" The Pontifex took one of Neran hands "By the Golden Throne, you're so cold! Here, let me have your rags, I will give you proper clothes"

"How could you be so sure of this? Of the fact there is something to enjoy in the, supposedly, other side we all go to when we die?" Neran seemed to remember exactly the point of the conversation where they had left it before the interruption

"Because it is the confirmation we all have a purpose, son. Because in this we understand the set duty He has tasked us with has an ending, has a reward at the end of all the strife and sorrow"

"You talk of these things as if they were inherently bad" Neran pointed out "Strife let's us overcome our passions, our flaws that we have to fix or otherwise the struggle would go on forever. If we did not had strife, inner fights, then we would never be the better version of ourselves. If sorrow is absent from our lives we grow cold, not to ourselves but to the pain of others, to the suffering of those in need and we lose our...purpose as you call it"

"But it is what ills our existence. We have fights because life is a constant battle against the threats that surrounds the Imperium, that want to see humanity die and suffocate. We have to stop that, or the cycle will see death for our children and our children's children" Caspiel leaned forward, seeing Neran words as a challenge "Sorrow comes from our happiness being taken from us, no human that has known it has been able to enjoy life as they did before knowing this cursed emotion"

"Yet after we know it, we can understand better what people meant for us" Neran paused, closing his eyes "Moret, one of my children, meant so much to me as he taught me with his acts and few words the meaning of being a Father, of taking care and raising another being and seeing them flourish; but I did not realize this until I held his lifeless body in my arms"

"I am sorry to hear your loss, Neran, but before he had passed away you HAD his company, you enjoyed the moments you had with him; now that he's gone you are never going to be able to be with him again...until you two reunite in the Emperor" Caspiel sighed

"How will I know it is him? How will I know I am in the presence of the Emperor and of my son?"

"I cannot tell you, only His word can" The Pontifex pointed out to one book that occupied it's own personal shelf, the Lectitio Divinitatus

At the sight of the book, Neran whole body language changed; he tensed up, showing his white perfect teeth and stood up, growling like a beast approaching the book, he took it and passed a hand through it's pages, each passage filled his heart with more fury, with more rage. Caspiel stood up and slowly walked to be at the man side, watching that the book didn't suffer damages and that it was handled as respectful as possible.

Neran huffed and grunted, mumbling something to himself that the Pontifex wasn't able to catch.

Neran opened his eyes widely; he understood now what drove that man to. do such a thing. It was his faith, his will to believe there was some grand power that could take the reigns of the situation instead of him, a being that could respond for him and because of his blind belief on them. There was no need to use logic, nor there was any kind of doubt that all of what was needed of him was to stand firm on his creed for the rest to solve itself. Instead of facing Neran, all of what Caspiel needed to win over whatever the pilgrim threw at him was to believe in the Emperor.

"This....this book is the reason all of this...all of it! It is the seed of Mankind fall! This is the reason we have rejected progress, spilled thousands upon thousands and trillions more of blood, our own blood, in the very same planets that have seen the birth of our species!" Neran took it with both hands and slammed it into the ground, Caspiel screeched as it kneeled beside of it "It is blasphemy, the worst kind of it! Written by a snake, a liar, a deceiver, a pawn of Their grand games! Taunting us, laughing at our very own incompetence!" Neran looked to the sky, his voice echoing in the church

"Have you gone mad?!?!?!" Caspiel looked up at Neran with a horrified expression "This is the very sacred texts the Imperial Truth was built upon! Centuries! Centuries of our faith carrying us through the worst darkest times of Mankind, of the confusion in the face of adversity, the pinnacle of our faith in Him at the sight of the heretic! Have you got no respect for the Holy Scriptures of our Lord?!?!"

"I have no pity for the reason we have stopped ourselves from learning of our ancestors, of progress, of advancing upon the technologies and the knowledge of those who came before us! You stand there and tell me we have rejected Artificial Intelligence, Blanks, Navigators and the very knowledge of the Warp because it is what the Emperor wanted?!?!" Neran voice bellowed, shaking the walls and breaking the stained glass surrounding them

"Has a Daemon possessed you?!?! Are you an apparition designed to test my faith?" Caspiel stood up, his knees all wobbly, holding his Imperial Aquila up high "You shall not break me!"

Believe just like he had done millennia ago to receive nothing in return, all of what Lorgar had done until that belief destroyed him. A change on his brothers, the reason for His family to fall apart and break, all because of faith in one man that thought himself above the stars, above everything. By the stars, now Neran understood the reason a Necron overlord had called him "Fool" all those centuries go, when they first clashed their armies against one another.

Caspiel crawled backwards to a display of "Holy armaments" located at one of the altars of the church; there he broke the protective glass in which they were held in and with a trembling hand raised the blessed bolter of the Saints and shot three times to the chest of Neran. The giant swayed from side to side, staring into the eyes of the ecclesiarch as his clothes began to fill with blood, but no groan nor pain came out of Neran lips; Caspiel, shaken to his very core, shot him again, yelling prayers and litanies of hatred against the heretic with many of the bolter rounds landing right on the head of the giant; shots that otherwise would've killed a baseline human being no matter how strong or imposing they could be.

"I could had never prevented this...Oh Father...I could had never loved you, nor you could had loved me" Neran felt his chest heavy, falling to his knees. He was having emotions, and he despised that

"Vade retro Daemon; I, Caspiel Sera, proud believer in Our God-Emperor, vanish you to the hells in which you came from" The Pontifex repeated in shock over and over again

"Is this your victory Father? Is this why have you died for...sacrificed so much for? Brainless puppets willingly throwing away all of what could save us from ourselves?" Neran looked up to a painting depicting the Emperor on the Great Crusade

The Pontifex screams became wailing of pure raw terror as Neran took a step forward and then another, chunks of his brain matter fell to the floor as blood poured down his head; he seemed relentless, resembling a Daemon possessed human from the books Caspiel himself had read a thousand times on the span of his life. As a last resort the faithful man threw the gun at the giant and held his Aquila up high once again, thinking this time it would work just like last time.

The doors of the church opened once again, this time by the sheer force of a massive hit given by an Astartes; it had no insignia, his armor was grey and there were no distinctive marks or badges that could distinct his Chapter or Legion of origin. For a hopeful moment, Caspiel thought it had come for him, to get rid of that abomination in front of the Pontifex, but his jaw dropped and his skin paled as he gazed into the flamer the Marine carried in his arms. Only then did Caspiel understood what awaited him and the chapel.

"Humanity does not need you Caspiel, it never needed you or any of your brothers and sisters" Neran voice was a weak whisper in the wind

"In the Emperor's name, die!!!!" Caspiel yelled once again, for his final time.

"Molochar" Neran whispered and turned his head to face the Astartes "Burn everything, no ashes shall remain of this place"

The Marine nodded and without emitting even a singular sound, he lifted the flamer and all of the stained glass, beautiful paintings, lustrous carpets, painstakingly crafted regalia, renowned armory and sacred texts burned all the same; the smoke raised to the ceiling faster than the flames that too were about to devour everything Neran gaze noticed when he first saw all the splendor.

Caspiel cried, lifting his hands up to the sky as he watched his life's work and countless other contributions to that church reduced to ashes that would spread once the wind blew on them. He screamed in incomprehensible words and curses to the one that had made this; his mind not yet grasping the magnitude of what it all meant. From the doorframe, watching the destruction coming down unto the Imperial Truth believer, Neran spoke over his work.

"I am Neran Solticence, we are the Painless Mutes and this...this is humanity's future"

[evolutionsvoid]

The dawn of the Age of Ichor was a glorious one for mankind, and the Church of Divine Wealth is a monument to this golden age. All that we know and love in this world was born from this era, and before the war broke out, many saw this time as a blessing to all. However, this new divinity and power did not come from thin air. The shifting of this world brought blessings to many, but also doom to many others. Before the golden fluid rained down onto this world, it was an Age of Eitr, a time of beasts and dragons. The giant creatures ruled this primordial land, and they too believed their beloved era would never end. When Ichor took over, many perished to the march of time and the expansion of its children. The great beasts of old fell as Eitr faded, and soon their bodies joined the many that make up this world. And beneath these endless graves lies a group of survivors from this era. Those who knew this slaughter was coming, that Eitr would fail and Ichor would drown them all. They had feared this outcome and had tried to stop it, but they were betrayed by their own kind.

When the dragons witnessed Ichor fall to their ancient world, there was a small faction of them that saw it as an omen. They looked to the creatures that crawled from this golden fluid and saw a rival to their own power. The elders and other dragons dismissed this liquid as another addition to their world, one that would simply add more life under their rule. But they were not convinced, as they saw a great power in Ichor and greater potential within its children. In their eyes, the influence of gold would grow and spread, and would reach the strength to challenge Eitr. This group went before the elders and demanded action be taken, that the dragons use their might to destroy the fluid once and for all. However, their voices were discarded in disgust, as such efforts were a clear violation of ancient dragon tradition. To interfere with nature in such a way, to wield their power in such a manner, it was unthinkable. Dragonkind had ruled this world for centuries with their unyielding beliefs, and they would continue to do so. These dissenters mocked such dusty ideals, claiming that these ancient laws were powerless against this new threat. Dragonkind needed to break from these rigid traditions and adapt to this alien foe, or else it would be destroyed. Their blasphemous insults towards the dragons' eternal beliefs stoked their ire, and soon both sides were at each other's throats.

The two factions fought, with the dissenters looking to overthrow the elders and take control. If they could cast aside these stagnant minds, then perhaps dragonkind could band together and take on this new enemy before it was too late. Sadly for them, they did not have the strength or numbers to win that day. Far more dragons sided with the elders, who also wielded the greatest amount of power. The dissenters were defeated, and their kind was to be punished for their heretical rebellion. They were stripped of their Eitr and banished to the bowels of the world, but not before their brethren struck them with a curse. To these foolish rebels and their wavering faith, they would be afflicted with the very sin they had championed: Chaos. If they were to reject tradition and demand blind change, then their very flesh shall do the same. Let them feel a life without structure, let them witness an existence stripped of order. These dragons were cursed, ruined and forced to slither upon their bellies into the shadowy crevices of the world. There, the curse would truly take hold, and these rebellious dragons would become the abominations known as the Lindwyrms.

While the dragons remained upon the surface to watch their age fall to ruin, the Lindwyrms were forced to hide deep below, seething in anger as their prophecy came true. It was as they feared, Ichor overtook Eitr and the primordial time of beasts was coming to an end. Even though they were right, such victory was a bitter one. Even their cursing of the remaining dragons brought little comfort. They had to rot down below, knowing that the lords in power were sitting by idly, remaining neutral until it was too late. The Eitr and dragons fell, but this collapse did not grant the Lindwyrms any blessings. For the curse that afflicted them wracked their bodies, and made any attempts to reclaim their throne impossible. What befell the flesh of the Lindwyrms was chaos, ceaseless and violent. Their bodies would constantly be altered and reformed over and over again, never resting on a single form for too long. Skin, limbs and flesh were constantly sloughing off layers and parts, while growing into new forms without ending. What they became were these serpents buried in countless layers of ancient, crumbling skin, of bodies that shed and fell away as their flesh altered once more. They cannot keep limbs intact for long, those too falling away into pieces of dusty skin. Gone were the brilliant scales, mighty horns and grand wings, now they are endless snakes tangled and choked by the shrouds of ceaseless birth and decay.

While the disgraced remnants of dragonkind was able to form an alliance with the Church of Divine Wealth, the Lindwyrms saw no such partnership. The toll of the curse forced them to use any strength they had to maintain themselves, and their horrid appearance would never be accepted. The dragons above still kept an eye on the Lindwyrms, and ensured that their return was impossible. To the darkness below they were banished and to the darkness they remain. Of the two factions, they are the most mysterious, hidden deep below but also guarded by their own curse.

Not only are their bodies steeped in it and forced to constantly shed and grow, but traces of it remain in the scaly skin they leave behind. In small quantities, it isn't any problem, but when enough of this skin is in an area or on a person, it can start to warp the flesh around it. Organic matter starts to forget what it was when exposed to it, becoming something unshaped and fluid. Due to the nature of the Lindwyrms, their bodies are constantly sloughing this skin off, which results in their lairs and tunnels to be coated in shed skin. With this much cursed husk in such an enclosed space, it becomes difficult for unprepared mortals to resist the curse. Those who foolishly delve into these dark tunnels will find their entire beings start to change and warp within the darkness, as they start to forget what they are and what they looked like. The curse attacks the mind as well, causing it to doubt and churn, forcing thoughts that wind up shaping the flesh in horrid ways. Those who go into these tunnels without light and proper protection are doomed to be reduced to misshapen abominations, forgetting their own flesh and becoming something only a nightmare-gripped mind could dream up within the unknown darkness.

Yet, there are those who have found their way into these warped tunnels and found ways to stave off the curse's influence. Despite their affliction and secrecy, the Lindwyrms have developed a small following. Those who drape the cursed husks upon their own bodies, and have learned how to wield its chaotic ways. By draping their bodies with this shed skin, they can slowly add uncertainty to their form with each new layer. As more and more of your flesh and body is covered in these multiple layers, the concept of your own appendages becomes fluid and uncertain, allowing one to shape them with their mind. So followers have fashioned robes and armor from this shed skin, and using it to contort or warp their bodies to suit their needs. They follow the Lindwyrms and listen to their words, believing that tradition and order must be abandoned. For even in their horrid prisons, the Lindwyrms know what is coming...

The civil war that torments this land, the Pwdre Ser that falls from the heavens, it is just like before. An age is coming to a violent end, and a new fluid will undoubtedly take its place. There is no saying what or who, as many are now fighting to claim the throne for themselves. Ichor, Eitr, Pwdre Ser and others, all clawing for the same power. Yet, the Lindwyrms believe in none of them. After all, what would these fluids achieve? They bore witness to Eitr dying out, and are now seeing Ichor begin to weaken. What is to say that Pwdre Ser won't end the same way, or any other liquid? No, the Lindwyrms will not allow it, no more fluids to steer our fates. No more elements to decide our lives. To the people who find their way to them, the Lindwyrms offer this: abandon them all. Divest thyself of Ichor, Eitr and all Godly Fluids. Do not let tradition and allegiances doom your kind to stagnation, like their own brethren did. Cast it aside and forge your own path. Seize your fate and flesh, and create the age that you see fit. It will not be easy, it will not be certain, but it will be yours...

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

"Lindwyrms"

The frustrating thing with taking so long with making the dragons was that I had these guys waiting in the wings and it was tearing me up that I couldn't talk about them til the dragons were done! God I love these wretched guys! Skin upon skin upon skin!

[phoebepheebsphibs]

.Dead asleeP.

Title: Chapter 4: N2 Prompt: You were peacefully sleeping when you suddenly wake up to the sound of a heart monitor steadily beeping somewhere nearby, and realize you are in the med-bay with no memory of what happened prior to this. // After watching movies with your siblings all night and passing out in the tv room, you wake up to find that you're alone. What happened? Fandom: ROTTMNT Word Count: 5,043 Author: PhoebePheebsPhibs Rating: Gen Characters: Leonardo, Michelangelo, Donatello, & Raphael (disembodied voices), Big Mama Warning: Derealization, nightmare-ish stuff (Leo is stuck in a dream), blood & injury (Leo's shell is temporarily shattered) Summary: Leo fights in a dark and twisted version of the Battle Nexus, and learns more than he wanted to about his situation... Notes: More chapters to follow (2 more, to be exact)

@shr00mi3writefight @tmnt-write-fight @that-0n3-shr00mi3

Posted on AO3 <-

Leonardo turned round three times, staring in confusion and shock as he attempted to get his bearings and understand the situation. How was he here?? How had he gotten here?? Why couldn't he remember anything?? And why did everything look like it was straight out of a paranormal youtube video??

Dark creatures with malformed limbs and creepy grins were placed in shadows, watching him with anticipation. Their eyes glowed white and yellow against the darkness, their jaws slowly cracked into demonic smiles with sharp fangs which dripped drool and blood as the teeth cut their gums and lips. The crowd roared -- part cheers, part animalistic growls and snarls. Leo's breath froze in his lungs, his arms and legs trembled as he was wracked with shivers and shakes. He couldn't move. He tried at some point, just to prove he still could. But he was stuck, trapped in his own body and forced to witness the crowd grow excited over his oncoming death.

"Tonight's battle will star our favourite little turtley-boo, Leonardo! Up against a few simply silly sadisticals. How fun! I do hope he shall give us a good show, though I know it shan't be a long one. So sad. Just kidding! This will be such an exciting tizzy-tassle! Let's see how long he lasts, hm?" 

Leo swallowed deeply.

"This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this literally CANNOT be happening!" he hyperventilated, trying his hardest not to cry. He couldn't cry, not here. It didn't matter how utterly terrifying this whole thing was, he could. NOT. CRY. HERE.

"Leo!"

"I can't do this, I-I can't do this--"

"Leo, listen to us --"

"I can't, I can't, I can't, please --"

"LEO!!"

Leo jumped, the voices shocking him out of his panic-riddled stupor.

"WHO?! What was -- Do I have to fight invisible people now, too?!"

Leo backed away, trying to find the source of the voices. He couldn't see anyone --

"Leo, LISTEN TO ME!"

But Leo felt something. A grip on his wrist, a pressure that was tight and kept him from pulling away. Leo stared down in shock at his wrist where someone was grabbing him -- but there was no hand. Only a strangely glowing purple wristlet --

A growing sensation almost like electricity rose through him, purple light flooding his veins from the hand all the way up his arm and into his heart and lungs and brain before turning a glorious shade of blue. Everything returned. The creeping hallways where he first met them. The distorted pizzeria. The never-ending loop of the Hidden City. Everything. Donnie was holding his wrist. Somehow, through the bracelet, he could feel him as if he were actually there. Leo remembered the three dreams prior, everything he had learned and seen, how Leo was trapped in a strange dream world and how his brothers had used a mystic spell to break in and help Leo break out.

Leonardo's gaze was fixated on the glowing device. His eyes were wide, pale, confused but hopeful as he whispered in utter shock.

"...Donnie? Donnie!"

"What-- how--?"

"The device," Donnie realised. "It's a ninpo enhancer -- it used my ninpo to recharge his and return his memories!"

"Is that a thing?"

"It is now."

"WHAT IS HAPPENING?!" Leo screamed loudly. "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!"

"No need to shout," Mikey scolded.

"HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN WHERE WE ARE?!"

"Oh. Right."

A horn blared through the atmosphere, and the creatures were free to commence with their assaults. The lights faded, apart from one spotlight placed directly over Leonardo. The monsters began to rush Leo, faster than anything he'd ever seen before. He could barely see them through the dimness, but fortunately there spotted areas where some soft light still remained. Leo saw their forms zooming back and forth -- but he never saw the one creature that jumped him from behind. The monster clawed into Leo's shoulders and shell, crashing him to the ground. Leo screamed as loudly as he could as the could as the beast dug into him. He could hear his shell shatter, he could feel the talons and claws ripping their way to his spine and skeletal structure.

"LEO!!!"

There was a blast of red and orange and purple, and the monster was blown away, incinerated completely.

"Leo, Leo!! Are you okay?!"

"I-I --" Leo gasped and shook, blood spilling over him as his tears pooled in puddles below his face as he slowly came to his knees. He couldn't stand, he was shaking too much. "I don't -- I can't, c-can't -- It, it got my back --"

Leo felt a heat, warm and thick flowing through his body and flooding out of him like a gushing river. The red that stained the ground started to reach his hands, his knees, his legs, his everything, his --

"Leo, breathe. Breathe with me, okay? Just breathe. I know this is freaking terrifying. But you need to take in a deep breath, and remember... it isn't real."

"It sure FEELS pretty frickin' real," Leo snapped in between gasping sobs.

"Does it? Really?"

Leo paused. There... there was no pain. There was heat, hot as fire, but no sting, no ache, no pain. Leo turned back to look at his shell, broken and shattered and revealing his innards. But it didn't hurt. Leo stared blankly at it. As he stared, two pins of golden light ignited and gracefully flowed over him, sparks stitching matter together over his destroyed carapace and restoring his shell to its former glory.

"How... how are you doing that?"

"It's a dream form," Mikey said, and Leo could practically hear the shrug. "It's not that out of my skillset."

"What... is your 'skillset', exactly?"

"I can show you later," Mikey said with a deep and exhausted exhale. "F-for now... we have to get you out of here..."

The lights (which Leo slowly realised were Mikey's hands) flickered and went out. Leo sensed anxiety and worry in his other two brothers.

"What's going on? Is he okay--?"

"He's just overworked," Raphael explained. "He used up a lot of energy before this..."

"M'fine," Mikey retorted. "I can still --"

"Take a backseat for this one, Angelo," Donnie instructed. "We'll take it from here."

"What do you mean, you'll take it from here -- what are you taking on?"

"Your nightmare," Raph responded.

Leo turned back to watch as the monsters approached him with snickers and sneers and snarls. He froze again. They may not be able to kill him or physically hurt him, but the fear was more than real, and that alone was torture enough.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you," Raph promised. His voice was quiet, but severe with determination.

"How?" Leo asked, voice wavering.

"I told you --" Raphael replied, and as he spoke red crystals of light surrounded Leonardo, forming a more durable and fitted uniform of armour and a massive shield, "This is my speciality."

Leo had no idea how Raph managed this, how he had created such a shimmering suit of armor that glowed bright crimson around him like the holograms he wore over himself...

But what shocked him even more was how a red star with white-hot light sparked to life before him, and formed an entire dragon around it. Completed with spiked frills and scales that stood up like barbs and spines.

It looked like him. It looked like Raphael.

A second miracle occurred as dozens of missiles and firearms appeared from nowhere, glowing purple, same as the device on his wrist. Each one exploded in a flurry of violet violence. The two partialled out the arena, splitting it in half between them. Raphael to the right, Donatello to the right. The missiles fired on all counts, and the dragon exhaled a fury of white flame upon them all.

Leonardo stared at the scene in utter stupefaction. 

"...Um. Okay. I'm just going to roll with this, I guess."

Leo rose to the battle, heartened to bravery by his brothers' actions. The monsters roared as they flew past them on all fronts. Leo's mystic armor kept him safe and secure; ceaselessly enveloped in the constant feeling of his big brother watching over him. Leo jumped over a creature and stabbed it with his odachi. The beast melted into black goop and then evaporated into shadow. Another one came up from behind and attempted to jump him, but Donnie's nukes took care of it before it even had the chance to growl at him. Leo kept up the attack, destroying every nightmare monster that approached him. But it was by no means easy work. The creatures were still terrifying and deadly. Now that Raph had a semi-physical form, they attacked him with full force, biting, clawing, and stabbing at his dragon projection. He roared and swiped his large paws at them, knocking at least ten away and into the crowds. A few of the demons jump onto his back and climb up to the dragon's face, stabbing it in its hologram-eye.

"Raph!!" Leo cried out when he heard the dragon roar in pain.

"H-he'll be okay," Mikey whispered behind him. "It's not his actual body. They can't touch his actual body, even if they tear the dragon apart."

"Can he make another one?" Leo asked, swinging his sword in a perfect 180˚ arc, cutting down three nightmare demons at once. "If the dragon is destroyed?"

"Maybe, but he probably shouldn't," Mikey sighed. "This form is already more than he usually does, he's exerting himself..."

Leo swallowed, his throat thick from anxiety. Raph shouldn't do that, not for him, especially not for him.

He shouldn't sacrifice himself for Leo's sake. Again.

Again?

Why was that thought so recurring? Why did Leo get faint deja vu every time he thought about...

...Whatever it was that he kept thinking about?

"How do you feel guilty over something you don't remember?"

"Mikey?" Leo asked, air frozen in his lungs. "What do you mean? You read my thoughts -- wait, you know what I can't remember? What can't I remember??"

"You --"

Leo was slammed in the chest by a monster. The armour held up perfectly, a shimmering ripple went through and reverberated across the chestplate.

"Leo!" Mikey screamed, and a blast of golden lightning and chains exploded through the creature.

"Woah! Mikey! H-how?!"

"It's my ninpo! Remember?"

"No! I don't remember... whatever it is you said!" Leo retorts.

"Wait, you... you don't remember -- How far back do you remember??"

"Donnie and Raph already asked, we defeated the Shredder by having Big Mama banish him into another dimension or something!"

"Wait, but that was over a year ago! Does... does that mean you don't know how you got here?"

"How I what?"

Leo jumped over an attacking monster as it tried to bite his arm off. Donnie created a machine gun that fired endlessly at the foes. Raph swung his tail at the dream demons before turning them to a flambé.

"Leo, think back! Back to before the sleepover. What do you remember?" Mikey asked.

Leo panted heavily as he tried to think. His mind was a bit foggy over the subject, like there was tar covering over that part of his brain and causing everything to become blurry.

"Um... w-we defeated the Shredder?"

"After that."

"We... Donnie won the Lair Games."

"Good, okay! Keep going..."

"What do you mean, keep going? I don't... I think we went camping?"

"Camping? Camping where?"

"In the woods. With... with Todd?"

"Were there dentists?" Mikey inquired.

"Yeah. Yeah! There were!"

"What else? Anything beyond that point?"

Leo thought hard. He's... he wasn't sure. Every time he tried to think about it, he felt sleepy and sluggish. Which was really bad timing considering what was going on. As Leo's head swam and his thoughts clouded, a nightmare-creature came bounding over and lunged at him. Leo's head his the ground with a thunderous crack, splitting the hard dirt beneath him. He really couldn't focus after that. Couldn't do much of anything but watch drowsily as the monster started to claw at the hologram armour Raph had given him.

"Leo!" Mikey screamed, and a mystic chain wrapped around the beast. Michelangelo swung it around and around before letting it fly into the nearest wall. "Bad doggie!"

Leo blinked slowly as movement and clarity seeped back in. Golden sparkles fluttered around him, hovering over his face and chest. Mikey was standing over him. He could sense his nervousness, his concern.

"Leo? Dude, you okay?"

He nodded softly. He felt something tighten around his wrist as he was pulled up from the ground. He glanced at the wrist tech from Donnie, which was glowing orange. He saw how orange light chased through his veins, reinvigorating him and clearing the tar away drip by drop.

"What is that?" Leo asked, looking over his arms and veins as the orange light flashed into blue.

"That's your NINPO, dude!"

"Wait, say that again?"

"Ninpo?"

"What the heck's a pinpo?" 

Before Mikey could answer, a purple missile landed between them and sent Leo flying. He assumed that Mikey went flying as well, but couldn't see.

"Whoops!" Donnie called out. "Sorry!"

"Watch your aim, dude!" Leo yelled back.

The last of the monsters vanished, melting into nothingness as the crowd roared at the victors.

"Is... is that it? Are we done?"

"Not quite yet, my pretty little plaything," a grotesque and saccharine voice echoed.

Leo's eyes grew wide as dinner plates a giant behemoth leapt from the stands far away and landed in the center of the stadium, the force of her collision caused an enormous ripple effect that made everyone jump and crash back into the floor. Big Mama. Though, she did not look like Big Mama. Yet despite her general unnaturally thin self, her abdomen was three times her size and looked malformed. She looked older, half-dead, her hair even frizzier than usual. Her chest was skin and bones thin, as though she'd not eaten once in her life and was nothing more than a skeletal creature with flesh haphazardly glued to her ribcage and spine. She had more than just the eight limbs, there must've been ten -- each one looked gangly and broken the wrong way, cracking and shifting. she had long, thin nails that elongated into talons. Her colours were drained -- pale and desaturated, no life or vibrancy could be found within her. She literally looked like she'd crawled back from death just to duel Leonardo.

"You're very clever to have defeated my hordes," she cooed. "But your lucky streak ends here. Prepare to die."

Leo swallowed.

"Guys...? Little help?"

"Get to the exit!" Mikey shouted, directing them with a beam of light towards a doorway.

Big Mama saw the beam and slammed one of her many legs against it, crushing the light against the wall. It fizzled out, and Mikey gave a bloodcurdling scream of agony.

"MIKEY?!"

"MIKEY!!"

Leo watched, frozen in place, as the dragon ran to where the light had been and slowly sniffed the area. The white light at the center moved towards the end, leaving the beast as it inspected the spot where the light had been destroyed.

"Mikey, what happened?!"

"Sh-s-she p-pinned my arm-m-m...!" Mikey hyperventilated. "She, she broke my light, I -- M-my hand, it hurtssss...."

"I gotchyu, bud," Raph whispered. "It's gonna be okay, you're fine, you--"

"Raph, your dragon!"

Raphael turned back to see that Big Mama had begun attacking the hologram dragon, destroying the body piece by piece. The giant reptile wailed in pain as she brought it down and broke it apart, clawing the chest open and ripping the arms off. The dragon projection cried out one more time before its head fell and hit the ground, the body pixelated and dissipated.

Leo heard Raph groan softly, and sensed him grow weaker. The red armour around Leo deconstructed and fluttered away, like ashes in the wind. He sensed Mikey's anxiety and fear rise higher and higher.

"Raph?! RAPH!! No, no!"

"Ssssstop yer wailin', I'm alright," Raphael muttered.

"But Raph --"

"I'm fine," he scolded. "Don't worry Leo, okay?"

"...M'kay," Mikey whined. Leo could hear the tears streaking down his baby brother's face.

It was at this point that Donatello sent a barrage of missiles after Big Mama, blowing her to kingdom come.

"Let's GO!" he yelled, trying to direct the group out of the turmoil as quickly as he could.

Leo wished he could help his brothers somehow... help lift them up, carry them --

"Oh, how sad," Big Mama chortled. "It feels alone."

Leo's blood ran colder than ice. She was still alive?

"I wonder," she said, crawling out of the smoke and flame, "if you truly understand the repercussions of your inadequacy. Do you know that each one of these pathetic brothers of yours would DIE for you?"

Leo took a step backwards, whole body trembling. Both Raph and Mikey were out of commission. Donnie's weapons had no effect on her. Leo kept creeping away from her until his back was up against the wall. Chills ran down his spine from the cold structure. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to avoid looking at her. He forgot he was in a nightmare. No matter what he did, he couldn't not see her. His eyes closed, he watched from the outside. He turned away, the world warped and had her reappear in front of him. He tried to run away, she was always the same distance away from him in all directions.

"You pathetic wicked worm," she spat. "Did you really think you could get away? Did you really think you would be safe -- or that they would be safe from you??"

A thick and sticky string of webbing wrapped around his stomach and tossed him like a yo-yo, throwing him far away before reeling him back into her clutches. He kicked at her in desperate panic, and with every kick he attempted she laughed at him. Laughed, and laughed, and laughed, like the joke he was.

She flung him into the ground, against a wall, and finally across the arena. Leo was dizzy, confused, disoriented. He felt something tighten around his wrist and pull him away.

"Leo! Come on, Nardo, get up!"

Leo groggily got to his feet, swaying from side to side as the world spun round like a top. He limped along with the pull, trying to go as fast as he could to keep up. He knew it wasn't enough.

"Where are you going?" Big Mama called after him, her voice simultaneously sweet and venomous. "You have nowhere to run! You have no salvation prepared! You truly think you can escape death?"

Leo slunk through the opening and heard Raph and Mikey call out to him. He could hardly focus on the words between the ringing in his ears and the echoes of her voice. His heart pounded with terror, but his head lolled from side to side from the hits he'd taken. He felt something stronger try to lift him up. Red light filled his veins, same as before when Mikey and Donnie touched the device on his wrist. The red light blended with blue, and Leo's head cleared somewhat. He still felt the strong arm of his brother under him, raising him almost off the ground as he helped to carry him through the tunnels leading away from the Battle Nexus and into the kennels for all the trapped performers.

"I'm right behind you!" she sang, almost giddily. "Better run!"

Leo did just that. He ran. Raph's arm kept him upright, and his pinpo or whatever Mikey had called it kept him shielded, though it looked like it was running out of batteries. Donnie's pinpo was doing okay, he used it to send missile after missile after missile at the charging arachnoid, doing his best to keep her at bay. Mikey led the way, his fading light bouncing off the walls and pointing the way out of the dungeons.

Leo kept running, even after his sides started aching and his legs went numb. He couldn't stop. He wasn't sure when the walls went from stone to drywall with withered wallpaper, or when the dusty ground beneath him morphed into floorboards with thin carpeting. He couldn't tell when the windows to the cells shifted into picture frame paintings on the wall. He didn't notice that there were now the occasional long tables with flower arrangements and lamps here and there. But he only realized the difference when he no longer felt Raph under his arm, couldn't hear Donnie shouting at Big Mama, and lost sight of Mikey's luminescence. He stopped, looked around, hyperventilating as the thought surged through him that he'd somehow lost them. But he hadn't lost his pursuer.

"Oh, dim-witted deary... is it lost?" she laughed, coming up behind him. Despite being far too enormous to fit within the small and cramped hallways, she made it to him easily. Venom dripped down her mandibles, her long fangs glistened in the weak light of the dying lamps. "Did they leave you? Understandable, considering all you've put them through. And the fact that you left them before..."

"This... th-this is a trap," Leo reminded himself. "This isn't real... you're just t-trying to scare me!"

"I'm not trying at all," she giggled. "You ARE scared. You are TERRIFIED. You are MY PREY."

She raised one of her long legs and brought it crashing down, cracking through the floor and creating a cavity in the halls. The floor crumbled beneath Leo's feet, he slipped and tripped as he tried to outrun the cracks growing along the flooring. He fell through and landed in the floor below. He wasted no time in getting back up and running for his life. Where were his brothers?! He needed them! He didn't know where to go -- and they needed him! If they strayed too far, they would become just as trapped as him!

"RAPH! MIKEY! DONNIE! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Leo sobbed as he ran. He screamed his lungs out, shrieking and crying and wailing in desperation. He wanted to wake up, he wanted to get out!

"Do you, now?"

Leo skidded to a halt as Big Mama came thundering down in front of him, the ceiling caving in beneath her weight and dropping her before her prisoner.

"Is that what you want? To leave? My sweet, silly blueberry boo! You are so confuzzled! You want to STAY HERE, don't you?"

Leo swallowed, backing away gingerly. He whimpered, raising his hands up in surrender, trying to keep her at bay. He couldn't stop shaking, his skin crawled, his chest fluttered with anxiety and a strange urge to just fall over and play dead. Faint away and be done with this. To go back to sleep.

"You want to stay in this world. It's so much more comfortable here."

"You call this comfortable?"

"Maybe not now, but you've chosen this route. You can just as easily choose a different one. Just as simply decide to go back to the start, finish your sleepover with your friends and family. Live a peaceful life, free of worry or pain or regret. Choose a paradise. Or, you can continue to defy and deny this world, and discover for yourself the subsequent results."

"I-I don't want to stay here," Leo refused, though the cracking in his vocal chords wasn't very convincing. "I want to go home."

"You are at home," she spat back with a sneer. "You've been at home this whole time."

"I mean, I don't want to be under your spell!" he retorted angrily.

"What spell?" Big Mama cackled. "There is no spell!"

"What...?"

Leo lowered his hands slowly, searching her eyes for the lie, the twist of the truth. She always had a secret twist, a change of the rules at the last second. He knew he could never trust her. But this wasn't her. This was Leo's nightmare. His own mind. Technically, this was Leo.

In the distance, he could hear Mikey shouting for him. Donnie, too.

"You haven't figured it out yet?" Big Mama laughed. "You haven't worked it out? Such a clever boy, but he soars right over the obvious!"

"What are you talking about?" Leo barked. "Haven't figured out what?"

"Leo. Poor, little Leo... you're not under any spell, except the one your brothers put on you to infiltrate your mind."

"What are you --"

"Donatello told you, don't you recall? No one put any spell on you to cause you to sleep. So who's trap is this, then?"

Leo's face fell. Raph yelled for him, called him by name, begged him to answer. Leo thought it over. They said he was trapped. They said something was keeping him asleep, wanted him to stay asleep. But there was no spell... so then, what was this?

"Who did this to me?" Leo asked, unsure why he was asking her, of all people. "Who's keeping me trapped?"

She smirked at him, just as his brothers rounded the corner and found him again.

"YOU are."

Leo could hear his brothers skid to a halt. He could hear them gasp in horror. He could feel their fears, rising to exponential levels as Leo was handed the truth.

"You are under no spell. You did this to yourself. And now, you're doing it to them."

"I... what?"

"Don't listen to her, Leo!" Mikey shouted. "She's distorting the truth!"

"But you know it is true," she smiled, humming a laugh as she came closer. "You have been keeping yourself prisoner, in a perfect prison."

Leo always loved plot twists and betrayals in his telenovelas... But this was a little too much for him to swallow.

"You're... you're lying."

"You have been asleep for seven whole days. You have been lost in your own mind and body this whole time, on the verge of death itself. And you have refused to come out of it."

"No," Leo said, laughing at the audacity of the claim. Laughing like he'd lost his mind. "No, I w-would never do that to -- my family, I'd never --"

"They told you themselves what you'd done," Big Mama snarled. "But you have been blocking them out. Refusing to listen, avoiding the truth. You can't live with the knowledge that you abandoned them, so you won't listen to it any longer."

"That... that isn't true," Leo begged, looking for his brothers to prove her wrong. He really wished he could see their faces, see their denial, the reassuring smiles that they would bear, the kindness in their eyes. Instead he felt their regret, their sorrow, their fear.

"...You've been in a coma, Leo," Donnie explained.

"I... I've what?" he scoffed, tears spilling from his eyes as his throat closed up, the broken smile still scrawled across his face in pure denial. "No... no! No, you're wrong!" he laughed. "A coma? Seriously, Dee, even this is too silly. It's the most cliche thing -- I mean, come on, you -- you can't be serious, you're joking. This is a joke!"

His laughs died down as their silence filled the halls.

"...Right?"

"You poor, diluted boy," Big Mama sighed, placing a hand on Leo's shoulder. "You couldn't save your family then, and you'll bring them down with you now. Can't you even die right?"

She cackled maliciously as Leo's head slowly rotated, staring in horror at the demon behind him.

"Oh, that's right! YOU CAN'T."

She gripped his shoulder tightly and flung him down the hallway behind her, once again separating him from his family. As he slid and skid down the corridor, she bellowed more revelations.

"YOU COULDN'T KEEP THEM SAFE IN LIFE, SO YOU TRY TO DIE FOR THEM. SOME MARTYR YOU MAKE!"

"Leo, don't listen to her!" Mikey screamed, his voice tarnished by desperate wails.

"Don't let her get to you! Get out of here! RUN!" Donnie shouted after.

"We'll hold her back! Just go! You only have one dream left!" Raph instructed. "GO!"

Leo choked on his own sobs, watching helplessly as Big Mama came barrelling down the hall.

"YOU WRETCHED LITTLE PEST! YOU RUIN EVERYTHING!" she screamed, her voice shifting lower and into something so much worse. Her long, spindly legs seemed to turn to spaghetti, changing colours as she turned into an unholy amalgamation of something grotesque and traumatizing. Leo knew to fear this form, but he didn't know why. He couldn't remember. She chuckled as she came closer, her eyes glowing red and teeth sharp. "...And now, my wrath will be reserved for you alone."

Leo bolted.

"YOU THINK YOU'VE WON?!"

She chased. The walls crumbled around him as his brother screamed after him. Leo couldn't stop crying.

"YOU WILL BE THEIR CAUSE OF DEATH! YOU WILL DESTROY EVERYTHING YOU LOVE! NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO, NO MATTER YOUR SACRIFICE, IT WILL NEVER BE ENOUGH TO MAKE UP FOR ALL THE PAIN YOU CAUSE AND THE DEATH YOU BRING ABOUT!"

Leo screamed out his sobs. There was a photo in his hand. When did that get there?

His eyelids grew heavy. His brothers' voices faded away. The monster behind him turned to shadow. But the voice echoed.

"YOU KILLED THE ENTIRE WORLD WITH YOUR EGO AND PRIDE! YOU DESTROYED THE FUTURE! YOU..."

Leo saw a light up ahead, orange and red and yellow. The dark hallway, with its twisted and gnarled walls became illuminated. There were eyes watching him. Everywhere. And yet he never felt more alone.

He stepped through the doorway.

He was in a large chamber. The floors were lava, molten and hot and glowing red, orange, and yellow. Leo stood high above the liquid fire, on a walkway leading to an enormous window. He made his way to the glass, overlooking New York City.

New York City, ablaze with flame and destruction.

"...You did this. You caused this."

Leo fell to his knees. Above him, an eye the size of the moon blinked and rolled over him, creating a spotlight that revealed the last nightmare he would face.

"King of the apocalypse, indeed," the Krang smirked.

[lucianhuntress]

Day 28. Ayato x Reader: 14. “Please don’t tell me you filmed that.” “Of course I filmed it.”

Finishing these prompts slightly late because thesis had to be done, veilguard came. And then my back decided to die.

Vacation is an idea that is not so easy to associate with lord Kamisato. He is constantly working and running Yashiro Commission business and evenings are the only time of day when you can actually have a chat. So when he asked you to join him on a short trip to Natlan’s famous hot springs— you hesitated. What about work? Who's going to deal with Commission matters during his absence?

Those thoughts were instantly bashed out of your mind after seeing him wearing only swimming trunks, his pale skin nearly glowing against the sea in the background and a towel hanging loosely over his shoulders.

Sure. Ayaka can handle the Yashiro Commission for a few days.

His lips curl into a mischievous smile when he notices your eyes appreciating the sight slightly longer than appropriate for someone like you, but he doesn't stop you either. Your relationship is somewhat complicated; his tone often becomes suggestive when it’s just the two of you, but nothing has happened between you… yet.

“It would be beneficial to our little vacation to experience the hot springs to the fullest,” Ayato speaks deep in thought as you two walk on the wooden walkways. Stalls full of bathing and swimming equipment, not to mention the local souvenirs, dot both sides of the walkway, creating a trap for tourists.

“Should we get something for lady Kamisato?” You ask from him. If you were completely in private you wouldn't mind using the first names of your superiors, but while working they remain lord and lady to you. And knowing him, he is clearly working on vacation.

“An excellent idea,” he replies in a calm manner but you catch a hint of amusement in his tone as he stops by one of the stalls, “the local craftsmanship is quite different from Inazuman.”

“We could take photos too,” you suggest and take out a new kamera you bought during your trip to Fontaine. It's a small handheld model that can even capture video footage.

The two of you make your way to the beach. Tourists and locals both enjoy the fresh sea breeze while soaking up the rays of the blazing sun. The hot springs are not far from the shore, making it easy to switch between cool and hot water. Ayato grabs your kamera and takes a few photos of you against different backgrounds; sea, hot spring and some stall selling their local speciality: a pizza made using Grainfruit.

“Maybe we should find a Koholasaurus!” you suggest after you have taken plenty of photos of him. Your fingers were slightly hesitant as you tried to capture the best possible pictures of your lord. 

“A Koholasaurus?” he mutters, his expression becoming rather unreadable. You never know what he is truly thinking, “we do not have saurians back home, so researching this matter would be good for the future relationships between Inazuma and Natlan.”

“And they are cute!” you clap your hands together, beaming excitedly. You had been eyeing those saurians from a distance.

After walking around the shorelines you manage to find a lone baby Koholasaurus playing in the shallows of the beach. 

“Can you stand next to it? I shall take a nice picture of you and that Koholasaur.” Ayato prompts you, making you feel suddenly embarrassed. More than a half of the pictures taken are of you. 

“Fine, but I will take one of you as well!” you groan as you walk over to the Koholasaurus that keeps eyeing you rather cautiously, its playtime rudely interrupted. 

Ayato readies the kamera and waits for you. You stand next to the cute baby saurian, trying to look nonchalant about it, but somehow you feel nervous and the creature can sense your anxiousness. In only a matter of seconds it douses cool sea water on you and hops deeper into water to swim away, while you squeal in surprise and fall back. You end up landing in the shallow water with a glorious splash.

You hear a somewhat amused chuckle coming in front of you and you lift your eyes to meet his light purple ones.

“Please don’t tell me you filmed that one.”

“Of course I filmed it,” he replies with a tiny, mischievous smile that you are so used to witnessing back at the Kamisato estate. 

“Are we off duty, sir?” you ask as you grit your teeth.

He hums deep in thought, “I suppose we are.”

“Then…” you draw in a deep breath, “I am sorry.”

He never has the chance to ask you why or what. Because as soon as his smile fades, you begin firing him with sea water as a revenge.