#will they be more benevolent and caring gods because if their humanity?

[ouatpancakes]

[moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami]

— trickentine જ⁀➴♡ ︎

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

summary: when eros, the god of love, makes the annual valentine visit to camp half-blood, he conveniently unintentionally leaves his bow and arrow in the capable hands of his younger half-sister.

warnings: nothing i think, except for like one curse word (pls do tell me if i miss any though!)

genre: ...romcom?

part 2

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

The gods were many things: powerful at their core, benevolent to those who merit it, temperamental when goaded, and mysterious in their methods— but there was one trait that defined them most of all, incandescently littered in their tales and lores: they were tricksters.

You really should’ve known better than to pick up that stray quiver of arrows.

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

The Aphrodite Cabin consistently made it a point to celebrate Valentine’s Day with much fanfare. Everyone has been busy the entire week preceding it; there were fresh roses to harvest, pink and red deserts to be made, hundreds of paper hearts to be cut, ribbons to be tied and acres to decorate. As one of the older siblings, a huge chunk of the responsibility fell on your shoulders. Needless to say, you spent an entire extra hour in the bathroom trying to put your concealer to good use.

A mere 10 minutes after leaving your cabin on V-Day, you’d managed to snap and glare at nearly everyone who even thought of intercepting your path.

Nearly everyone because you knew better than to direct your ire at the god of love.

“You didn’t even blend.” Eros said, perusing your make-up judgmentally. “Consider your favorite demigod sister card revoked.”

In his current human form, his hair was a deep shade of black and coiffed to perfection, his eyes a brown hue that you could only describe as melodramatic, and his skin beautifully tanned from frolicking in the sunlight.

Gods, how you missed to frolick in the sunlight. These days, you had to slave in it.

“Lord Eros.” You bowed, desperately fighting the urge to roll your eyes and purse your lips.

“I adore what you’ve done with the place.” He waved his hand off dismissively. He trudges ahead of you, officially beginning his annual Valentine inspection. “Although I definitely think it could use a little more sparkle. Perhaps a little more pink, too.”

‘Pink? For Valentines? Groundbreaking.’ You drawled inside your head. “The Hephaestus cabin is tinkering with a smoke machine to make it emit glitter.”

“Wonderful.” He replied passively, his attention drawn towards the dining pavilion where hundreds of glowing hearts hung from mid-air. Eros turned towards you. “Fairy lights on the beams?”

“On it.” You nodded your head tiredly, scribbling messily onto a notepad. “Anything else?”

“Everything’s perfect, except…” He trailed off before raising an eyebrow at you. “Find yourself a boyfriend, maybe? You need to loosen up.”

“Oh my gods,” You muttered under your breath, fighting the urge to physically recoil.

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you slacking off on training.” Luke chastised with a tut, tugging your arm towards the training areas. Your feet were basically dragging against the dirt, soiling your sneakers and flicking particles of dust against your skirt, but you couldn’t care less.

“Luke, look around you. What do you see?” You asked, your tone too saccharine to be considered serious.

He decided to humor you anyway. “Hearts.”

“10 points to House Hermes. Now,” You leaned in conspiratorially, “Who do you think set this whole place up?”

Luke barely opened his mouth before you answered your own question.

“Me.” You jabbed a finger against your chest. You narrowed your eyes at him. “I set this whole place up. I planned it— the theme, the color scheme, the glitter, the ribbons, the dazzling pink fountain with mini-Cupids who sing at the hour!”

“It looks very pretty!” He said, panicked.

“Yes, I know it looks very pretty.” You kissed your teeth. “Don’t you think I deserve a little break because it looks very pretty?”

He shook his head.

“You are insufferable!” You groaned.

“Hey! In my defense,” He raised both of his arms in the air to plead innocence, “You’re the one who said you wanted to develop a skill by the end of the summer."

His voice was pitched higher by the end in a poor imitation of your’s. You scrunched your nose in distaste.

“Gods, why do I keep digging my own grave?” You mumbled. Luke shook his head in amusement.

He led you into the clearing of the archery field, a line of circle targets dotted around the edge of the forest. A quiver of arrows was hung against the branches, different from the ones in the armory but definitely familiar to you.

“You can use those. Guess one of the kids forgot to return them after practice.” He shrugged. Luke mustn’t have noticed the difference.

You reached up to grab the weapons, still incredulous but definitely not alarmed enough to hesitate. The material thrummed in your hands.

“Go shoot.” He grinned.

“Very helpful instructions.” You muttered.

“Well, it’s pretty straightforward, sweetheart.” He sauntered over to one of the targets, leaning against the wooden frame. “You’ve been taught the basics, you just need the application. Now, shoot.”

“I could literally hit you.” You said blankly as you mounted the arrow against your bow.

“Consider it your challenge to not hit me.” He raised a thumbs-up.

“You’re insane.” You responded, irked and stressed by his casualness. “I’m sleep-deprived!"

Again, Luke just shrugged his shoulders. You huff, but then follow his lead anyway. You close one eye as you raise your weapon to your line of vision, zeroing in on the target.

As soon as the arrow flicked away from your fingers, it changed its course. When it should’ve followed a curved arch towards the red target, it whizzed away and made a beeline straight for Luke. A pink trail of haze followed its path.

“Duck!” You yell.

The arrow pierced through his chest at nearly the same time Luke’s body collided with the ground.

“That’s where those went.” Eros snapped his fingers as he emerged behind you. His glinting eyes were looking intently at the bow and quiver on you, an imperciptible smile on his face.

Your eyes widened in surprise. Shit.

“Lord Eros! I sincerely apologize.” You immediately took off the weaponry, holding them in your hands then kneeling as if to offer them back. You definitely did not want a god to be at odds with you. The two of you might have the same mother, but that didn’t mean you were equal in Aphrodite’s eyes. “I wasn’t-”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, sis.” He said, tapping your shoulder. Was he actually consoling you? “I shouldn’t have left it out in the open anyways.”

He pulled you up by the arm gently, snapping his fingers and getting the remnants of grass off of your knees. He even picked off a stray leaf from your hair. What in Tartarus was this?

For as long as you’ve known Eros and he’s practically coerced you into a dysfunctional sibling relationship, this was the kindest thing he’s ever done. Yes, the bar was low.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

“You didn’t use this on someone, did you?” Eros asked, cradling the quiver and bow against him like a child.

“I think I managed to hit Luke—”

“You didn’t!” He interrupted with a theatrical gasp, a hand covering his mouth. He was such a drama queen.

You narrowed your eyes. He planned this, didn't he?

He smirked wider when he noticed the change in your demeanor, the realization behind your gaze. You swore his pupils changed to hearts for a moment.

“Good luck with lover boy, little sis.” He turned around, showing you the back of his hand as he waved goodbye.

[lenaellsi]

“Crowley is still an angel deep down” “Crowley is more of an angel than any of the archangels” “Crowley was only cast out because he needed to play his part in Armageddon, he's not a real demon” “Aziraphale wants to rebuild Heaven to be more like Crowley because he’s what an angel should be” no. Stop it. This is exactly where Aziraphale went wrong.

Crowley is 100% a demon. He's not actually a bit of an angel, and he's not cosmically better than any of the other demons we see in the series. He's much less vicious than most of them, yeah, but he's also much less vicious than most of the angels, because how “nice” a celestial being is has nothing to do with which side they're technically on. Crowley's kindness comes from him doing his best to help people despite the hurt he's suffered himself, not any sort of inherent residual or earned holiness. He was cast out just like the rest of the demons, and that's an important part of his history that shouldn't be minimized, excused, or, critically, 'corrected.'

Being angelic is not a positive or negative trait in the Good Omens universe. It's a species descriptor. Saying that Crowley is still an angel deep down because he helps people is an in-character thing for Aziraphale to think, certainly--Job and the final fifteen showed that in the worst possible way--but it's not something Crowley would ever react well to, and it's the main source of conflict in the entire "appoint you to be an angel" fiasco.

We know that Aziraphale thinks Crowley's fall was an injustice, but why? Well, because Crowley is actually Good, which means his fall was a mistake, or a test, or a regrettable error in judgment, or…something. Ineffable. Etc. The point is, he’s special, much better than those other demons, and if they can fix him and make him an angel again, everything will be fine! (So once Job's trials are over, everything will be restored to him? Praise be!) Aziraphale has to believe that Crowley's better traits come from traces of the angel he used to know and not the demon he's known for 6,000 years, because that’s how he can rationalize his incorrect view of Heaven as The Source Of Truth And Light And Good with his complicated feelings about Crowley's fall.

But Crowley's fall was not an injustice because he's actually a Good Person who didn't deserve it. Crowley's fall was an injustice because the entire system of dividing people into Good (obedient) and Bad (rebellious) is bullshit. Crowley is not an unfortunate exception to God's benevolence, he is a particularly sympathetic example of God's cruelty.

And really, Crowley doesn't behave at all like an angel, especially when he's at his best. All of the things that he's done that we as the audience consider Good are things that Heaven has directly opposed. (See: saving the goats and children in defiance of God in S2E2, convincing Aziraphale to give money to Elspeth despite Heaven's views on the "virtues of poverty" in S2E3, speaking out against the flood and the crucifixion in S1E3, tempting Aziraphale to enjoy earthly pleasures because he thinks they'll make him happy, stopping Armageddon.)

Heaven as an institution has never been about helping humanity. And that's not an issue of leadership, as Aziraphale seems to think--it's by design. Aziraphale's first official act as an angel toward humanity was to literally throw them to the lions. Giving them the sword wasn't him acting like an angel, it was just him being himself. Heaven doesn't care about humans. It's not supposed to. It's supposed to win the war against Hell, with humans as chess pieces at best and collateral damage at worst.

Yes, it's easier to think that there are forces that are supposed to be fundamentally good. It's easier to think that Aziraphale is going to show those mean archangels and the Metatron what’s coming to them and reform Heaven into what it "should" be, and that God is actually super chill and watching all of this while shipping ineffable husbands and cheering for them the whole way. And of course it's easier to take Crowley, who Aziraphale (and the audience) adores, and say that he deserves to be on the Good team much more than all those angels and demons that we don’t like. But that's not how it works. People are more complicated than that, even celestial beings.

Crowley is a demon, and the tragedy of his character is not that he's secretly a good guy who is being forced to be evil; the tragedy is that he's lived his whole life stuck between two institutional forces that are both equally hostile to the love he feels for the universe and the beings in it. There are no good and bad guys. There are no "right people." Every angel, demon, and human is capable of hurting or helping others based on their choices. That is, in fact, the entire fucking point.

[gojossocks]

Anything For You

Sukuna x Reader genre: fluff, hurt/comfort summary: After a thousand years, Sukuna never thought that he'd find you again. Only this time, your goals have changed and you weren't the person he can rule the world with anymore. Would he give that up just for you? wc: 2.7K content: friends to lovers, lovesick sukuna, kinda ooc sukuna because of how lovesick he is, mutual pining. they were in a situationship for a thousand years, can you guys handle that?

“Sukuna, don’t you feel alone in the past thousand years? I mean, all you’ve wanted is to gain power and do other villain-y things. It’s pretty lame and sad in my opinion.” Yuuji, his vessel, says mindlessly as he chews on his food while he waits for Megumi and Nobara. 

“You insolent fool.” He sneered, a mouth forming on Yuuji’s cheeks. “I don’t mope around like you do. I was not alone either.” 

Contrary to popular belief, Sukuna wasn’t heartless as most people paint him out to be. In fact, during the Heian Era, Sukuna is always seen to be with a powerful sorcerer. 

There was you. The only person he sees as his equal. 

But after you were killed, your history with Sukuna was quickly forgetten as the men write history in their own perspective. You are a significant figure in history, yes– but you and Sukuna together were only briefly mentioned in the books. 

People have forgotten about how Sukuna, the King of Curses, have ruled the Jujutsu World with you by his side. 

In the bygone days of the Heian Period, You and Sukuna have a unique bond as you two had grown up together. You were the only one who witnessed how he rises up to be the King of Curses. You were a powerful sorcerer too in your own way, despite the lack of title. Your benevolent nature has gotten a lot of people to respect you. People were not intimidated by your power but by your wisdom. 

Despite your personality which is in contrast to Sukuna’s, it never became a hindrance between your bond. In fact, he seemed to like you more because of it. You taught him how to kill and destroy with purpose. and together, the two of you wreaked havoc on Earth. 

You were the first and last person who knows him inside and out, not even Uraume could compare. He even prefers your shitty cooking, for god’s sake. He feels weak in your presence. Sukuna kind of resents you for it, how you make him feel. How he’s willing to burn the entire world at your command. He’d kill anyone without batting an eye if you ask him to. You have him wrapped around your pretty fingers and you don’t even know it. 

He remembers going into the gardens of your shared home after a battle and you’d welcome him with open arms, hugging him with your little frame. You didn’t care about the blood on his clothes or how he reeks of death. You look at him with such kindness, as if he has done nothing wrong in this world. You held his hands with such gentleness, as if he has hasn’t covered his hands with so much blood. And you smile and crack jokes around him after terrorizing villages, you wrap bandages around his wounds even if he can heal it in a heartbeat. He loves being doted on by you. 

He was really good at keeping his emotions to himself unlike you who’d outwardly show how much you love him. He had a feeling that you knew of his affections slightly. After all, you were the only one allowed to touch Sukuna, to tease him and be alive after that. He chose not to tell you his feelings because he thought that he’d have all the time in the world to tell you. 

Well, he thought he did until he received the news that you were killed. 

Sukuna didn’t look at your corpse, refusing that seeing your cold lifeless body would be his last memory of you. After that was just endless rampage of destruction. In his mind, it was his way of avenging you. People have forgotten about you because of the amount of lives he had taken— his crimes outweighed any humanity he had left of him. 

It goes like that until he was defeated and sealed. Well, that was years ago but even now, all he thinks about is you. So much that he could still hear your laugh. 

“Really?” Yuuji exclaimed. “I think I should ask Gojo-sensei about—”

Yuuji’s rambling was cut off with a sound of laughter, which causes both him and the demon inside him to look where that voice comes from. 

That all too familiar voice that even after countless lifetimes, he would still recognize anywhere. Sukuna felt like his entire world stopped when he sees where that voice comes from. Everything seemed to blur as his entire attention is fixated on the woman. 

It was you, in the flesh. 

Or rather, someone who is an exact copy of you. 

He had found you! You had reincarnated as he hoped you would. You kept your promise and you’d see him again. 

You were walking and conversing beside Gojo Satoru as you approach Yuuji who stood up straight and looked at you with wide eyes. 

“Who might this be?” You gave the kid a playful smile. 

Sukuna was able to examine you up close as you walked closer to Yuuji. You were as beautiful as the day he lost you. You fit right into this modern period— you’re wearing a uniform similar to Gojo’s, but instead of pants, you were wearing a skirt and knee high boots. If someone were to tell Sukuna that he’d find you like this, fighting against him, he would have howled in laughter before killing that someone. 

“Yuuji Itadori, miss!” the young sorcerer said, exuding a bit too much enthusiasm. 

“So he is the vessel.” You acknowledged with a nod before sharing a look with Gojo Satoru. 

“This is Y/N Y/L/N! She’s a special grade sorcerer from Kyoto but will be transferring here to accommodate you. She doesn’t go to missions anymore just like I do so Y/N would be there whenever you need her.” Gojo explains, putting a hand on you and Yuuji’s shoulders. 

Yuuji’s eyes widened as he registered the significance of your name “Like the one in history books Y/N Y/L/N?” 

“I wish.” You quipped, inserting a playful note in your response. “It was nice meeting you. I’ve waited for you, you know.” Then you extended your hand toward Yuuji and as your fingers met his, Sukuna could feel the familiarity of your touch. You looked at Yuuji with so much intensity, as if you’re looking at the curse residing in him. Right at Sukuna. and he didn’t fail to notice the way your smile was gentler compared to the ones you’ve given the kid. 

It was for him.

You’ve seen him. 

“Well,” You let out a sigh when you’ve pulled away. “I better get going. I’m sorry to cut this short, Yuuji. I hope we’ll get to know more of each other. I heard you like rice bowls, I’ll treat you to my favorite restaurant in tokyo next week, yeah?” You pat the top of his head and Yuuji gives you a huge grin. 

Once you’ve left, Yuuji could finally notice Sukuna’s silence. He had been silent ever since you’ve arrived and Yuuji was about to tease him for it until Gojo spoke up. 

“It’s her if she wasn’t being obvious enough.” 

-.- 

In the week following his unexpected encounter with you, Sukuna’s demeanor underwent a subtle transformation. He was less mean to Yuuji and the snarky remarks had lessened. 

True to your promise, you spent time with Yuuji, fulfilling your role as a companion and mentor. However, your newfound indifference towards Sukuna fueled a frustration that within him. Did he merely imagine the spark of recognition in your eyes? Was it truly still you? 

He found out a lot about you during the time you spent with Yuuji as well as the information that Gojo discloses concerning you. It seems as though you have helped the Jujutsu World slowly gain back its glory just like back in the golden days. You’re a teacher too, and from what Gojo has mentioned, you’re still the same patient and kind person he fell in love with. 

Sukuna feels a twinge of jealousy at the mention of how you’re close with the white-haired sorcerer. He finds himself scoffing at the thought of you finally replacing him. It isn’t far from reality, you’re too likable for your own good anyway. You make it so easy to love you that Sukuna failed to notice that this disease has swallowed him whole and now he’s stuck, absolutely pining for you like an idiot. How dare you move on from him if that’s the case? 

He needed answers from you or else he’d go crazy. So he finds out where you live and he found out that you were living in the more peaceful side of Tokyo. It took him a while to get in control again and the moment he did, his feet carried him to you. 

Your house is beautiful, it looked like the mini version of the place that you once shared with Sukuna. He entered it quietly and to his surprise, you were no where to be found but then he catches a glimpse of you in the window overlooking the garden. 

Sukuna finds himself smiling as he reaches the garden. It had a variety of flowers and plants, the very ones you had planted with him years ago. You’re wearing a beautiful red plaid sundress and the modern age never looked so good in anyone but you. 

You were simply ethereal. 

You were too engrossed in watering your plants when he walks towards you. 

“Old habits hard for you, Y/N.” Sukuna spoke up, his voice devoid of any usual domineering tone that he uses to other humans. 

You turned to him, wide eyed. It was the first time you’ve seen him in ages. Sukuna’s still in the body of the young sorcerer that you frequently saw the past week but he looked like him—with his tattoos and demeanor. Your eyes are soon filled with tears and you shakily reached for him, engulfing him in a tight embrace. 

“Finally.” You choked out, burying your face to his chest. Sukuna carefully snakes his hands towards your back on instinct.  “It’s been so long. it was all worth it. I knew you’d come back.” 

He rests his chin on the top of your head. Sukuna’s voice turned hoarse as he spoke. “I thought you were killed I-” 

“I’m already here, Ryo.” You interrupted, pulling away to cup his cheek gently. Sukuna leaned in to the warmth of your touch, melting in an instant. “ I wasn’t. I was just sealed until I was let out by one of my dearest friends. I came to find you but you were already gone, so I waited.” 

“You don’t know how much I’ve missed you, Y/N.”  

“You were asleep for almost a thousand years. I was alive for most of it, clearly I missed you more.” 

“Well, I thought you were dead. Cut me some slack, doll.” Sukuna teased with a smirk. You bite your lip to stifle your smile, playfully nodding inagreement.

“Come with me.” He murmured, pulling away to press his lips against your forehead. “After I kill this brat, I can take control and we can finally change the world.” 

“By killing everyone in it?” You shakily asked. Sukuna thought that you were just shaken because of how glad you are to have him back. 

He gave you a smirk. “Well, that was my idea. You know how I am.” 

“Times have changed, Ryo.  I’m afraid that it has softened me. I’m not the person you used to imagine burning the world down with anymore.” You calmly admitted, meeting Sukuna’s intense gaze and you tried to calm him down by tracing circles on his arm but he didn’t look convinced in the slightest. 

“I’m here now. You could drop your act. I can protect you now, you know.” 

“You don’t understand, dear.” you interjected, gently pushing a strand away from his face.  “We have different objectives now. You seek to take over the world and be feared forever. I seek to live out my days in peace until I decide to end it.” 

You must’ve noticed how Sukuna’s expression dropped at your words so you quickly clarified. “oh no, but don’t think I’d end my life after our interaction. In fact, I’ll live for a few more years until it will bore me to death. Literally. But there’s just so much to love and to do in this world, I’m afraid.” 

“Don’t you want to be with me? Have you grown tired of me?”  He demanded, his voice getting louder as he continues to talk.  You weren’t fazed in the slightest and it aggravates him even further. It used to comfort him, that you know him so well, but now the butterflies in his stomach makes him anxious more than anything else. 

You have always had the upper hand and he feels you cursing him the more you grant him your presence. 

He feels disregarded as you implicitly rejected him. 

“No.” You offered him a sweet smile, your eyes never leaving his. Sukuna thinks he might float with the way you’re looking at him right and his breath hitched once he hears you say the next words. “I love you, Ryo. In fact, I love you enough to know of your nature and I would be the last person who would stop you in achieving what you want. I wouldn’t be in your way but I couldn’t stay by your side anymore.”

Sukuna searched for a hint that indicates that you were lying and he found none. You had always been honest with him. He looks at you with a heartbroken expression but still trying to maintain his stoic face. He’s clearly hurt “Did our past mean nothing to you?” 

“I’ve done everything I could, Ryo. I’ve done everything for you. You know I did that all for you. Wasn’t that enough? Didn’t you feel my love for you in the slightest? You could kill me now, if you want. It’d be a pleasure to die by your hand.” Your eyes are once again brimmed with tears again yet you continued to smile as you trail your fingers over his cheek “I’m sorry but I’m tired of seeing red. Gojo must’ve told what I did, you must know my change of heart.” 

He did. 

Of course he did. 

He knew of what you did yet he still held on to the fact that he might be wrong. So is this really how it ends?  Sukuna enjoys destruction and killing. He loves being in power and he will not admit that if you weren’t alive, he’s probably murdering civillians in Shibuya right now. But after he’d gain control over Yuuji Itadori’s body, the only thing that he keeps thinking of is coming home to you. 

And what would the point be if you are not by his side? 

“Then I’ll stay with you.” He declared. 

A scoff escapes your lips and your bewildered expression makes him smirk even more. “You can’t be serious.” 

“I’ll just finish this and I’ll come back to you. None of this matters anymore. I’ll abandon all of it. For you.” 

You looked at him incredulously, your mouth agape. Sukuna wastes no time to finally pull you in a kiss.  

It was a gentle one at first and he pulls away slightly to see you pout, eliciting a chuckle from him, only to pull you back to a deeper, passionate kiss. Sukuna smiles into the kiss as a soft gasp escapes from you. 

He kisses you fervently, as if he needs your air to breathe. And as you run your hand through his hair, moaning to the kiss, he pulls you impossibly closer. 

He’s home. 

He returned to you 3 months later, in his original form. He entered your house with wounds and bruises, his body covered in blood once more. It was just like before, but this time, it feels so different. He had a soft look in his eyes and he feels like he’s floating on air now that he’s gone home to you. 

Just like before, you welcomed him with open arms. He lifted you and spinned you around, eliciting a squeal from you. When he puts you down, you peppered kisses to his face and hugged him really tight. 

“I love you.” Sukuna whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear before leaning in to kiss you gently. You smiled at his confession. There was a look in your eyes that you knew it all along. 

“It took you a millennium to say that.”

wanna read more?

a/n: i bet he still murders in his free time after being retired 😻

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Get ready for my ✨️Palace of Alcazarzaray✨️:🎉

So... Almighty Creator of Teyvat Reader. We all know that the original inhabitants of Teyvat are dragons, so that means, Almighty Dragon!Creator.

Almighty Dragon!Creator who has a rivalry/resentment/tense relationship when it comes to The Primordial One because of their shades.

Almighty Dragon!Creator who thinks of the original Dragon sovereigns as their children.

Almighty Dragon!Creator who stays and watches over Teyvat, slowly their resentment lessens(even if they stay bitter because their children's powers were taken by outlanders) as they watch their teyvat, their teyvat, get more lush and green and just. Their teyvat becomes full of life and wonder.

Almighty Dragon!Creator who watches Khaenri'ah's fall in solemn silence, who looks at the children of stars in pity. Yet they are not their domain, so they cannot help(or can they).

Almighty Dragon!Creator who watches the traveler's journey, who finds intrigue in the silver companion who looks oh so similar to the Primordial One.

Almighty Dragon!Creator who watches the traveller go through nations, who watches them help Their Children. Who cannot help buy beam at this outlander who helps their children(even if one is still dead(orobashi), even if one will never get his power back(dvalin), even if one has shattered in two and has lost himself(azdaha), and even if one lost theirself to madness(apep), one gets his power back(Neuvillette) and they are so happy for him.)

All I'm saying is: Almighty Dragon!Creator who gets attached to both the Traveller, but also who gets attached to Paimon because of her relation to the Primordial God in some way or another.

Oh and Neuvillette Fluff with them.

- Starboy Anon

Wowie, Starboy Anon! This is a lot of info!

Not saying it's bad (I loredump as heavy as this when it comes to my own stuff), but I certainly have too many headcanons for your headcanons to write a Sagau!Character x Creator!Reader request!

Starboy Anon you have NO IDEA how much I am of a sucker for Azhdaha and Dvalin. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW DID YOU FIND MY HIDDEN WEAKNESSES—

I care very little about the Shining Shades and the Primordial One, so apologies for skipping over them in this headcanon request!

Headcanons: Primordial Dragon Reader—All Shall Bow and Respect Thee As They...Uh...

(Warning: Might Be OOC!)

Alright, pretending that Reader had ZERO RESTRICTIONS on what they can do NOW...Allow this idiotic Ghost Rebel to demonstrate their favoritism benevolence:

Dvalin Headcanons:

Reader absolutely adores Dvalin to bits. You Cannot tell me otherwise. They will literally give this dragon the world if they could.

Reader would definitely give them a human form if Dvalin ever wished to use it to mingle with the mortals in Mondstadt—In fact, Reader would be their tour guide (I have zero references of how Dvalin's mortal form would look like, but I imagine it'd look like a playable character skin—in other words, a very cool one)

I like to imagine that Dvalin loves music so much, he digs into Monstadt's traditional music and begs Reader to have Venti (or another bard) play the tune he finds.

Reader would definitely be the overprotective parent that absolutely hates it when others try to flirt with their children. Dvalin is clueless to these flirtatious attempts, so Reader is helicopter parenting so hard rn LOL

FLOWER CROWNS OMG. I imagine Dvalin would love those! Reader is going to indulge them with so many of them! Even better if Dvalin makes friends (obviously with the Traveler, Paimon, and Venti—those guys are naturally invited)

Reader would let Dvalin try any cuisine, but if it's anything related to alcohol, Reader is definitely going to make sure they are a) not spiked, and b) Dvalin takes a very little amount of it.

Reader's the kind of parent to see their child get a scratch on their skin and freak out and treat it like it's a very bad wound. I think you know where this is going.

Oh, and you know the Abyss Order that kind of manipulated Dvalin? No, you don't—because they no longer exist :)

Would definitely fly with Dvalin in their dragon form, or in their human-dragon form. Whichever Dvalin likes, Reader will follow suit!

Azhdaha Headcanons:

MY DRAGON BOYYYY LETS GOOOO *Aggressive Truck Noises Because Ghost Rebel Can't be Biased—*

Ahem, anyways. Considering that Azhdaha has a bit of something akin to dissociative identity disorder, Reader definitely treats the guy with extra care, opting to entertain both of Azhdaha's "personalities."

Yes, Reader fixes the erosion and memory problem. Yes, Reader gave them a new dragon body that is not purely made out of rock so that it doesn't erode too quickly. Yes, they also gave their child a human form (yk in Zhongli's story quest, Azhdaha took two appearances? Forget those two merging together—just take the color palette off of Azhdaha's dragon form and make something >:) I like to imagine a part of his hair or his eyes glows a certain color depending on the element he's wielding in his human form)

Reader shows them around all of Liyue, considering Azhdaha never really had the chance to see it properly. I like to think Azhdaha would listen to every single piece of information given to them like a sponge in water. Anything that's new or interesting to this guy, he is not backing down from it.

Now, I know the million dollar question: Does Azhdaha get scammed like Zhongli? No, because Reader is always there glaring at merchants that dare try to mess with their children in any way possible. They're also there, telling their child all about commerce and the ways of the trade—something that Azhdaha is into considering mining and ores are technically also in the business industry.

You know the guy that got blessed by Azhdaha, who can now see if rocks are valuable ores or not? Yes, believe it or not, but I believe Azhdaha would 100% check up on the mortal despite being completely tsundere and in denial about it.

HIKING! I think Azhdaha would like to have the mobility to hike—after all, in his dragon form, he's kind of the hefty and large side, so he can't exactly move fast or be nimble. I think he'd really like this change of pace!

Apep Headcanons

No huma form. She refuses to be compared to or even look like mortals. That is something Reader respects.

Technically Reader's eldest child so far. Reader kind of spoils them with loads of things only they can now make for Apep—maybe like flowers, or certain foods, etc. etc.

I like to imagine Apep secretly loves private affection. Reader giving Apep so many dragon hugs, or cuddles, or head pats. Reader spoiling them with literally anything they got lol—

Unfortunately, there's not much I can write for Apep :') There isn't enough lore for me to write on for them....

Neuvillette Headcanons

Reader 100% indulges him in his hobbies of tasting every bit of water.

Fusses over him because he's the Iudex and Reader practically almost curses out Focalors for giving their child such a demanding task, but also thanks her for showing him the ways of mortals yk. Love-Hate relationship.

Reader would bring him certain foods once they figured out what kind of mortal foods he likes.

Melusines? THEY BOTH LOVE THEM, THEY ARE NOW CREATOR'S GRANDCHILDREN (if I remember the lore correctly, I'm pretty sure they are considering they were born from a dragon??)

Reader looks out for Furina whenever they can because Neuvillette is truly Furina's #1 Fan bro—but only because Reader loves Neuvillette and doesn't want him to stress himself out.

THEY WILL KEEP THE SOUP LADLE (yk from that one Lantern Rite event? Neuvillette made a soup ladle in a theme of a dragon?) Anything Neuvillette will make, Reader is KEEPING IT in their DRAGON HOARD.

And that's all I have! Hope you find this good, Starboy Anon! :)

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: It's been so long since I wrote headcanons! This was a LOT LONGER than I thought it'd be LOLL. Hope you all enjoyed it though! :)

Seeing as we're close to 1000 Followers, I might be posting a follower event very soon 👀 Hopefully I won't die immediately once I post it! (If Tumblr eats your request, I am leaving) Anyways—I'll see you all next time! >:D

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[tanzakukun]

Yoojin’s built is scrawny. He doesn’t have a degree. He’s an F-class and a support at that. He wants to be the protagonist, because then, he would be strong. And he would be so strong he can protect everyone and no one else has to suffer but him. Most importantly, as the protagonist, he would always be needed by others.

But he wasn’t made to be in that spotlight. He sees Sung Hyunje, handsome, powerful, experienced, mature and skilled in everything he puts his mind into. Everyone is naturally drawn to him. Everyone finds Sung Hyunje useful. Sung Hyunje will always be needed by others, and he will always appear impeccable while at it.

But the picture-perfect protagonist is tired of the genre he was nurtured by his transcendent step mom god to fit into. He doesn’t want to be a puppet of someone else’s will, of a world and society accepting him only for the roles they have for me. The protagonist is a free spirit who has been killed by being turned into someone who can move others but cannot be moved by the very people who he’s been destined to protect.

The closest to Sung Hyunje’s existence is Han Yoohyun, an incarnate of fire forced to live in the shell of human. Yoohyun is driven by his instinct, no different than Hyunje being controlled by his destiny. In another story, they would have been each other’s nemesis. The protagonist who watches over others because he was chosen by a higher power to do so, and the villain whose nature is to destroy and burn all creations down until his life sizzles out. But the villain doesn’t. He fights his nature. He willingly puts himself through the suffering of rejecting his instincts to stay close to a scrawny F-Class without any notable achievements.

Yoojin loves the attention Hyunje gives him and is taken aback when the ahjussi protagonist isn’t the benevolent protector he was shaped to be. When Hyunje, who was made exactly as the protagonist Yoojin imagined, rebels by craving to be an individual of his own choices. He’s whimsical. He gets bored easily. He peels the crusts off his bread. He’s never had anyone sing him “Happy Birthday.”

Yoojin makes fun of him, and Hyunje goes, “lol fair”. Yoojin sees holes in the protagonist, and he’s thrilled by how he can put down someone whose very role he wants to be. He’s envious of Hyunje. He wished he was Sung Hyunje. Resentment doesn’t grow. Instead, there’s only Yoojin’s self-hatred being fueled by seeing on Hyunje, who has everything, how Yoojin is sorely lacking.

He doesn’t put himself against Hyunje, only against himself. Yoojin is his own worst enemy. When he relishes in criticizing Hyunje, it’s soothing his own ego being constantly bruised by his ideals.

“You’re exactly who I wish I was. But I see you’re not perfect either, which also makes me feel good because it means that maybe, I don’t have to be so hard on myself. If Sung Hyunje, the protagonist, isn’t all that in reality, then my unreachable expectations of myself seems rather foolish now.”

Hyunje makes Yoojin feels more at peace with himself this way. And when Yoojin pities Hyunje for the small wonders of life he’s not known, it’s an act once more that soothes Yoojin’s own ego. The understanding and humanity Yoojin directs to Hyunje are - subconciously - also acts of kindness toward himself.

And we all know how Yoojin is exceptionally struggling with self-love.

Hyunje picks up on the bits and pieces of the person known as Han Yoojin. He is a complicated soul who deserves love and care. He is an ordinary person who is seeking a way to be happy, just like Hyunje. Hyunje, who had always put himself first, having lived lives chained to someone else’s desire, chooses Yoojin’s happiness over his own. This isn’t a form a sacrifice. It doesn’t go against Hyunje’s personality. Hyunje seeks to make decisions of his own, and Yoonjin is simply that choice he proudly decided.

For the plot, the protagonist has accomplished his heroic deed. This was the story Yoojin wanted for himself as a main character. Someone who would give himself up for someone else’s happiness. Hyunje made him realize this was not the story he wanted for himself, nor a story he would want for anyone. If lets Hyunje do exactly what all main characters do, then Yoojin’s demons that he had been coming in terms with would win.

I absolutely love jinjae for being two souls who have not been made for each other, but are encounters at the right time and moment that helped the other grow.

[ezolenta]

So here's Obito.

Kakashi.

Read more info ⬇️

Obito is a half-elf who lived with his family for two decades, helping them. I imagine it as a small village with friendly people. Happy childhood with his parents . Average cottage life, a small sheep herd, garden and a bunch of pumpkins.

His parents ran away so they can be together. (I like half-Senju! Obito too much). Senju is a human clan and Uchiha are elves who hate each other. Boom. Drama.

One night, there was an attack on the village. It was Uchiha, a young elf, and Warlock. He killed Obito's parents (Itachi is a different story, and it's very raw, so bear with me). Obito manages to survive. He found refuge in the form of an old elf paladin who helped him. (Of course, it was Madara's setup)

He trained Obito. He became stronger and made an oath with God of Justice (Tyr if you wish, but I'm thinking do not mention any of the DnD canon names and Gods), so he became a Paladin of Devotion. He began to travel the world saving people and helping them.

But at one moment when he needed help the most, no one came to his aid. He began to contemplate the world and the gods. A moment in which an event occurs in direct opposition to Obito's oath and his God's domain. It's simple, but such a traumatic event can make one view the gods as selfish, callous, and inconsiderate of mortal affairs that do not affect themselves - which in turn leads to disillusionment with oath. As a result, he broke his oath because the gods did not like that he began to pry into their dark affairs. (Canonical hatred of the Shinobi system and rules dnd style and without Rin's sacrifice.)

I can imagine Obito becoming Oathbreaker because he wants to achieve justice but in his own, wrong way. He claims that God betrayed him. Obito is blinded by power and his hunger for it.

Obito returns to Madara and tells him about that. He is agitated by the disappearance of his power. Madara tells that he has to make a new pact to gain powers. Thus Obito was lured into making a pact with the goddess who now gives him power in exchange for his soul. Obito kills Madara. He's now an Oathbreaker Paladin and Warlock whose Patron is a moon Goddess herself. (I wanted it to be a Tharizdun, The Chained Mad God, but changed my opinion. Tho still sounds cool) So Obito was tricked into a pact.

Obito is traveling the world and destroying the Cults. He's 62 when he met Kakashi in the woods, running from an Owlbear. They fight together, but Obito gets hurt. They return to Kakashi's camp. A bit of talking and my writing.

"The gods betrayed me." Obito growled. "They betrayed us all. They claim to be benevolent, but all they care about is power, status, and their own selfish gains." Kakashi was surprised by the paladin's disdain for the gods. It wasn't often that he met someone who outright scorned the gods, especially a paladin. "I see," he said, continuing to tend to Obito's wounds. "You're quite the blasphemer."

So Kakashi is also trying to find a local cult. They decided to travel together. (There's a plot!)

Obito looked at Wizard with a steely gaze. "I no longer align myself with the gods, nor do I seek their favor. I have become an instrument of my own destiny, and I answer to no one but myself."

But Obito does not even suspect that Kakashi is looking for a cult not just to destroy it. But that's a story for another time.

Here's some stats and info for character sheet list in my head for nerds like me.

8 14 16 8 12 20 (STR, DEX, CON, INT, WIS, CHA) Level 14 8 Paladin 6 Warlock Oathbreaker (Aura of Hate, Control Undead, Dreadful Aspect) The Great Old One Pact (Mortal Remind) Pact of The Blade (Binded Weapon, CHA based)

[phantomnecromancer]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪Female Geto Suguru⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

2.2k words Content warning 18+, nsfw, smut, masturbation (f + f), oral (f! receiving), fingering (f! receiving) geto in this fic is a woman btw! pt2 soon Synopsis

you. In reality, Geto Suguru saw you as nothing more than a convenient tool, a pawn in her intricate plans to manipulate curses and bend them to her will. While you showered her with gratitude and adoration, she plotted and schemed behind that facade of benevolence, using your devotion to further her own dark ambitions.

Note from the author Oh my god, I'm so sorry for the delay, I completely forgot about this account. I've been really eager to write a fic inspired by a female version of Geto. It seems like there are lots of fanarts but no fics about her female version, so I decided to create my own. Like I said, English isn't my first language, so I apologize if there are any mistakes! I really plan to keep writing for Fem Geto in the future, and I even got inspired to write more about Cult Geto because there don't seem to be many out there. Anyway, enjoy, and see you in part 2!"

―Geto suguru who was banished from jujutsu high

She is the worst curse user ever existed in the ultimate millennium

―The warm lights of the temple flickered to life. It seemed that it hadn't been in place for long; rumors circulated that the owner of the old temple frequently moved their residence. No one knew why they did it or if there was any malice behind his actions. The people didn't seem to care, as long as the burdens on their shoulders, forces they couldn't comprehend, were lifted from them. Those who visited said the owner appeared to be a very sweet person, asking for nothing in return for taking away the heavy sorrows and pain they carried.

The reason for your visit was a last grasp at hope. After consulting doctor after doctor, nothing seemed to alleviate your suffering. Gradually, you began to lose your sanity, reaching a point of no return. You felt watched, attacked, and even saw things that you knew were impossible in the earthly realm. Your pain was so intense that the thought of ending your life started to seem not so terrible.

Then, amidst the small talk of the village elders  you heard about someone who, according to their words, was a god reincarnated on earth. She could lift all burdens, and her noble soul sought nothing in return. You never considered yourself a religious person; you believed it was a complete scam, a mockery of human beings to strip them of their money while maintaining a pure image in the name of a higher power. However, what did you have to lose? Your last will, crying out for a reason to live, a reason to continue existing in this earthly realm. It seemed that the location was uncertain and constantly changing, but it appeared to be on the outskirts of the village, along a road whose name you did not know.

The soles of your shoes echoed with each step as you drew closer. There was no longer any doubt; this was not the idle chatter of the old ones you had overheard a few nights ago. The temple stood before you, immaculate and serene, its presence undeniable. The fragrance of incense and sacred wood wafted through the air, enveloping you in a scent that stirred a nostalgic echo within the depths of your memory.

It was spring, the season of blossoms, and flowers adorned every corner of the sacred place, their vibrant hues adding a touch of grace to the temple's tranquility. Despite your skepticism and lack of faith in such matters, you could now understand the profound solace this sanctuary offered to its believers. The peace it bestowed upon them was almost palpable, a gentle whisper of calm in a world filled with chaos.

Now, standing before the grand wooden door, your nerves began to fray. Even in a place where the energy was supposed to be gentle and benevolent, you couldn't shake the tightness in your chest. You couldn't tell if it was due to your past calamities, that darkness that seemed to follow you everywhere, or if this place simply gave you an uneasy feeling.

As you pushed the door, the creak of the wood flooded your ears, though it was no louder than the pounding of your heart or the white noise ringing in your ears. Stepping inside, your eyes were immediately drawn to the temple's interior splendor. The walls were a rich saffron hue, and the corners were painted a beautiful chocolate color, so polished you were certain they were cleaned daily. Some walls were a deep olive, adorned with protective amulets. Before you stood a small staircase leading up to a dais with a sliding door. Your eyes wandered for a moment, your gaze fixed on the curling smoke of the incense placed on one of the shelves. It seemed there was someone there, yet your sight did not reveal them.

“Hello..?”

”―You spoke almost in a whisper, feeling like a frightened puppy with its tail between its legs. Your hands were trembling and sweaty as you tried to dry them on the fabric of your skirt.―

Moments passed in a silence so profound that the only sound was the creaking of the wood beneath your shoes. Then, the sliding door opened, revealing a female figure. She was dressed in traditional Japanese attire, a "Gojo-Kesa." The woman was quite tall, especially compared to you, the difference in height stark and almost intimidating.

Her long hair was tied in a mid-bun, so black it could easily blend with the darkness of night. Her ears were adorned with black plug expanders, adding a distinctive touch to her appearance.

Her hands were clasped together, hidden within the sleeves of her traditional attire. She walked with such elegance that it was astonishing how she made almost no sound at all. As she reached the dais, she gracefully lowered herself to the floor, one arm resting on a red bench. A smile without showing her teeth spread across her face, radiating kindness and appearing entirely devoid of any ulterior motive.

"It seems I do not recognize your face, miss. You have never been here before, have you?"

 ―said the woman. Her eyes fixed intently on you, and you could feel her gaze as if she were trying to read you completely, peering into your very soul. All the while, she maintained that smile. Despite her persistent smile, which initially seemed kind, you couldn't help but feel it was turning into something more sinister. You couldn't shake the nervousness that gripped you; you wanted to speak, but your vocal cords seemed to be playing a cruel joke on you.―

Your voice came out almost in a whisper, your head spinning and feeling how your legs gradually weakened. 

"N-no, I've never been here before," 

you felt the urge to escape, the air was thinning, and a pressure on your chest assured you it wasn't just your minor issue weighing you down.

"Headaches, dizziness, feeling watched, hallucinations, and paranoia isn’t it?" 

she said, the smile creeping never leaving her face, almost as if she were mocking you. Her purple eyes stared at you as if finding amusement in your distress.

"H-how do you know that?"  ―you stutter, your hands now clasped tightly in front of your body. ―

"Come closer to me, darling." her voice flowed like honey, contrasting with the mocking tone of her voice. Her hand gestured for you to approach her, her body still laying lazily towards the bench.

The sound of your shoes echoing on the polished wood was the only thing audible in the room. Her eyes never left yours, making her intimidating, yet her physical allure was undeniable. You had never felt physical attraction toward a woman before, especially someone who, with just a gaze, could make your stomach tighten and your head spin.

Her arm lazily lifted, as if she were swallowing something with her hand. Gradually, the heaviness that had been tormenting your shoulders began to dissipate. Your eyes widened in shock, a look of utter disbelief spreading across your face. Meanwhile, the woman's expression turned to one of satisfaction as she held what appeared to be a yellowish orange crystal ball.

"Better?" she says with a satisfied smile on her face, as if she knew and took pride in her powers. It was as if she saw you as an inferior being to her, as if you didn't matter, an empty shell.

You felt completely liberated, the weight on your shoulders finally gone, and that feeling was enough to overshadow your doubts and fear of the intimidating woman before you. 

"How..?"

――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

―Weeks passed, and it seemed you couldn't stop wandering around the same place whenever you could. You were so grateful to that woman that you felt you owed her your life. Her kind smile always thanked you for the small gestures, or that’s what you thought. Whether bringing incense or flowers to decorate the temple. You even stayed to clean and polish those chocolate-colored wood floors you adored so much.

Geto detested you, hiding that with her usual kind smile, applying sanitizer whenever she could, when you weren't looking or after you'd left. Yet, in her own words, you were the best-behaved monkey she'd ever seen. It seemed you genuinely believed she had made that gesture to help you, to help others, and to lift that weight from their shoulders. The reality was different: absorbing curses to store them and use them to her advantage for her new world.

"Miss Geto, I brought flowers! Where should I put them?"―

You say happily.  almost adorably, holding a bouquet of lavender, Geto's favorite. Her gaze returns to you, briefly eyeing your petite figure, that fake smile without using her teeth that she usually gave you. She shifts her usual posture, spreading her arms to point with her finger at a white vase adorned with blue decorations.

Happily, you place the lavender bouquet in the vase, your smile never leaving your face. You even came often to pray, spreading gratitude to the strange woman you believed enjoyed your presence. You are so foolish, thinking she enjoyed those little conversations you had with her or thought well of you. She saw you as nothing more than a mere toy to be used, just a simple monkey and nothing more.

As you sat down to pray as usual, your knees on the floor, you cursed yourself for wearing such a short skirt. It rolled up to your thighs each time you bow your head to the ground, showing those white panties that you carefully chose every day you went to the temple, like she was going to see them. The thin fabric barely covering your puffy folds that were already soaking wet— poor baby It wasn't your fault— she just looked so pretty every time and you couldn’t resist yourself. You just wanted to catch her attention. You wanted her to see you, to know you existed. You lived for her praise and that small smile that tugged every time you remembered her favorite flower or her favorite scent.

You didn't know why you felt this way; you had never felt any physical or emotional attraction towards a woman before, but with her, it was different. You wanted her to see you, your heart pounded every time you saw her arrive or whenever her eyes lingered on you for just a moment longer. 

And for mere seconds, you felt her gaze. Your head was on the ground, hands placed in front of you, and you deliberately shifted your hips forward, causing your skirt to lift, revealing the view of soaked panties, showing the thin fabric almost completely transparent with how wet your core was. You could feel how everytime you shifted yourself to sit down the friction in between bows, leaving a wet strip of juices all over the floor. 

This action did not go unnoticed by the dark-haired woman, and for the first time, a slight smile crossed her lips. Her purple eyes carefully examined the girl's figure. Of course, she noticed your advances, every time you blushed when she looked at you for more than a few seconds, or when she gave you empty compliments but your eyes seemed to sparkle every time she said them.

I wouldn't lie to you; she didn't deny finding the power difference over you fascinating. You might even seem adorable to her in her own way. She might even consider you deserving in her new world—the only monkey she wouldn't mind having by her side.

When she saw you innocently stand up after pretending not to notice that you had done that just to get her attention, a small smile graced her lips. You innocently adjusted your skirt, and it seemed you didn't even bother to wipe that spot in the floor where your wet pussy grazed. 

As usual, you bid her farewell with an innocent smile, lifting your head to meet her gaze, hands clasped together as you bowed slightly. Your eyes eager to take in every detail of the girl, hoping for her usual smile in return.

——————————————————————————————————―――――――

—She didn't deny it; she had spent a long time doing absolutely nothing since leaving the academy. Her world was her only priority; she needed nothing else, and nothing would give her more pleasure than the outcome of a world without monkeys. However, in the darkness of her room, it seemed to be the opposite.

Hand pressed into her sensitive bud, her index finger doing circular motions as she cupped one of her breasts pinching her nipple. Her forehead glistened with sweat, her mouth slightly open, and her back slightly arched. She felt ashamed to stoop so low—how could she, a monkey, wield such power over her? Days had passed, yet she couldn't stop thinking about her. She couldn't understand if it was her lack of intimacy in these past 10 years or simply falling for her charms. It was pathetic and it made her entire worldview shift—everything she believed was right, that mental state and opinion she had taken so long to accept, reduced to a mess of moans as she put two digits into her pussy pumping in and out. She could feel her walls clench more with the thought of her tongue inside your pussy, drinking your sweet juices. Her fingers finding that sweet spot that could make you see the stars in mere seconds. Her mind raced as she remembered you bending, showing that pretty cunt of yours, only serving to feed her thoughts further.

Note author : This fanfic almost made my head explode! I'm the biggest hater when it comes to multi-part fics, but I swear I even fell asleep with the laptop on my legs. I hope to finish it soon, hopefully within this week, and not take a whole month just to complete one part.

©phantomnecromancer on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, modify or translate my works.

[paymechildsupport]

"Sink your teeth in me"... // Heian!Sukuna x Reader

He just wants one... teeny tiny bite...

-!! Unsanitary, cannibalism used as a literal form for "love", slight body horror, food play (in a way), Sukuna is genuinely so kitten coded ┍━☽【❖】☾━┑

----- -- ------ ■━■━■━■ ------- -----

He likes food-- eating is canonically his favorite pastime

So what if in the past he got a lil carried away, -- took a lil nibble, a quant chomp outta your flesh? He's entitled to that much, right? I mean, you should feel honored, the King of Curses deemed you as something fit to eat-- that doesn't just happen to anyone now

Back in the Heian Era, he may just stop by your humble abode from time to time, grace you with his presence like the benevolent creature he is.

You're all bloody, and it's not even yours. You feel sick, the tangy taste of bile boiling in the back of your throat, the metallic smell of blood invading your nose. You were going to be sick

But don't worry! Sukuna will be more than happy to clean you up himself-- he's just a nice guy like that.

The river? No, silly! His tongue is a much more adequate bath for you, -- and good thing he has so much of it. Embracing you, cleansing you of the stains of his sins, he'll hold you as he laps the blood from your skin. It may take quite a bit, only working from the top down, -- which is why you're in luck because it so happens that he can always just spawn more! Mouths on each of his four hands, latching on and suckling on tender skin wherever he grabbed, as if you were some fine candy. You yelp, feeling the large, wet mass of the mouth on his stomach. Usually just a simple slit in his torso, you vastly underestimated how big the thing actually was. Its tongue swipes out, licking its lips, smearing Sukuna's saliva all over his own stomach. He couldn't care less. The warm, pink muscle snakes out, swiping a long, wet line all the way up your back, ripping a shudder from your body. You were so slick with his spit, your skin had a watery sheen to it, -- god he was so sloppy with it, making such a huge mess of himself and you, but that was always half the fun, the obscene provocative nature of the act what made it so appealing in the first place. You were so pretty, skin all red and angry from him licking it raw, your entire figure littered with adoring marks. He just loved you like this, laid bare and shivering in his arms, dripping with his spit-- you were so vulnerable, so trusting to leave yourself in such a compromising position at his feet, perfect for the taking. He would ravish you.

He'll start with a lil' kiss, -- something cute. Just a wee lil' sample. Maybe you'll even get more than one, a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your neck down to your collarbone. You wouldn't mind if he took a little lick, right? Just like a kitten, little careful swipes of his tongue, licking up your spine. You just taste very sweet, he jus' wanna taste some of his beloved human some more, -- because he loves his darling fleshbag human. He adores you so, simply just indulge this for him. He'd start to take small nips at the soft flesh of your neck, his sharp, elongated canines teasing over your jugular..... nahh, he wouldn't do that to you. He'd relish in your slight spike of adrenaline at the immanent death poking at your windpipe-- he quite literally has you in his jaws, -- like a little rabbit in the jaws of a big bad wolf. He's practically drooling, thin strings of his saliva drip down into the crook of your neck. His breaths are long and almost labored, each exhale sending a resounding shudder throughout his body, pressed at your back. He's starving, you the five-course meal that's gonna fill this empty void of his stomach. Certainly, you can't deny him this, this tiny small thing. He takes the skin over your shoulders between his teeth, sucking softly. Just a lil' more, that's all he needs, just one more small bite, you're doing so well for him. Drops of blood peek out from the indents made from his sharp fangs, which he eagerly laps at. Just a lil' more... yeah, just like that, let him gnaw at your shoulder, -- you just taste so good he almost can't control himsel-- oh, there go your shoulder blades, whoops

He really didn't meaaaaaan to, honestly :( you're just so good- you can't blame him for getting carried away-- I mean, it is technically your fault for tasting so damn delectable. He wanted your heart, and he'd tear it out with his teeth if he had to. You just bring out that animalistic side in him, -- hunger is the main utility for survival, afterall. Even the most simplest of organisms have to feed on something. He loved you like a wolf, a ravenous wolf who just came across their next meal-- snarling and slobbering and so, so messy

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┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

[marvelmaniac715]

I want to see more of Webby and the Lords in Black as just regular siblings, with dynamics like Pokey suffering from forgotten middle child syndrome (which is why I think he wants the loudest voice to be his own) Wiggly trying to act as the peacemaker because he’s the oldest brother (he’s their leader, of course he’s the oldest), Tinky cackling in a corner and being given the side eye by his confused brothers, Nibbly eating everything, Blinky watching all the drama go down and Webby just trying to exist whilst her brothers are mean to her for no reason. Here’s an example of what could go down in the Black and White on a weekly basis:

Tinky: Have any of you seen my Bastard’s Box? I put it down right here and I can’t find it.

Blinky: I haven’t seen it, and I see everything-

Tinky: I know, Blinky, you tell us every day.

Pokey: I think I saw-

Tinky: Shut up Pokey, we’re trying to solve a mystery here.

Wiggly: What’s the problem here? I’m trying to focus, Wiley had a new scheme he was trying to tell me about.

Tinky: Talk to your boyfriend later, we have a crisis here!

Wiggly: He’s not my- never mind, what’s going on?

Tinky *crying*: I lost my box! Teddy Bear’s in there and now he’s all alone with nobody to torture him!

Wiggly: Don’t cry, Tinky, we’ll find it.

Tinky: I bet it was Webby, that stupid bitch is always taking our stuff! I’m gonna go find her-

Pokey: It wasn’t Webby-

Wiggly: Pokey, could you shut the fuck up? Tinky’s upset.

Webby *teleporting into the Black*: I heard you say my name, what do my darling brothers want today?

Wiggly: Did you take Tinky’s box?

Webby: I’m not a monster like you, but now I wish I had because torturing humans is bad-

Tinky: You’re so stupid! Torturing humans is fun, what else is there for us to do?

Webby: Save humanity? Be benevolent gods?

Wiggly: This is why we disowned you, get out.

Webby *disappearing*: Can’t say I didn’t try…

Nibbly *casually strolling in whilst sucking on his lollipop*: What’s going on? I went to get a snack and missed everything. Fill me in, won’t you Blinky?

Blinky: Someone took Tinky’s Bastard’s Box. It’s been a lot of fun watching this, even more fun than Watcher World.

Nibbly: Oh, the box thing? I ate it, sorry.

Tinky *in shock*: You… ate it? How… why… just- what?

Nibbly: It looked like candy, I was hungry, you do the math.

Pokey: Not that any of you care about what I have to say, but someone from Hatchetfield is trying to summon us again.

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Blood of Eden

|Lucifer!Aemond Targaryen x Eve!Reader|

Short Story

Masterlist of Works

Summary: Life in Eden was perfect. You lived in harmony with your husband, Adam, and all other creatures. Nothing negative ever got past the guardian cherubs at the gates, forever protected by the angels and God's love. Until one day, when you stood at the roots of the Tree of Knowledge, a serpent appeared before you. Its green body blended into the grass beneath your feet, and its amber eyes locked onto yours as it spoke words that would lead you astray and down a path of sin.

Author's Note: Let's start with this idea being unoriginal. There have been a million different retellings of the fall of Adam and Eve in fanfiction. However, I did put a lot of original thoughts into it and gave it a spin of my own. I'm not religious at all, though I was raised Methodist in a very rural and religious state. I really don't care if anyone is offended by what I wrote because what I wrote is not really about God but more so about the expectations of women, abandonment of those who claim to love you, and blind faith. It's not only applicable to religion but to everyday life with the government and other people in positions of authority in your life. With all that being said, just enjoy this for what it is... raunchy smut.

Warnings: sexism, misogyny, noncon bordering onto rape, sacrilege, religious guilt, manipulation, breeding kink (kinda?), Aemond feasts like it's the last supper, it's literally a fanfic retelling of Adam and Eve.

Word Count: 9.6k

Also, I recommend you listen to the song The Devil Is Human by Aurora or The Fruits by Paris Paloma. Both are applicable.

In the beginning, God created heaven and the Earth. The Earth was without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep. The Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters, and God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. God saw the light as good and divided the light from the darkness.

And he was there. There, beside the Lord with the rest of his brothers and sisters, he watched his God create life as he knew it.

They called him another name then and spoke of him differently, filling him with such fury and vengeance in memory. He was no longer Aemond, the morning star, God's favorite angel in his host. He was the vilest of beings, cast down into the depths of Hell with all others who followed him in punishment for his defiance against his Lord.

They said Lucifer was vain. That Satan fell from the heavens due to his great pride in his perfection, but that was untrue. There was more to the tale than just the folly of pride, than just the wickedness that so poisoned his heart against God.

Aemond believed in knowledge and free will. He disagreed with God's authoritarian control of the creatures he architected. God's creations had no control over their lives, set mindlessly on his chosen path. He kept hidden the knowledge of the Earth and psyche and all it had to give. Aemond believed he had no right to do so, for a life in blind ignorance was none at all.

He first poisoned the creature they called Adam with the emotion of loneliness despite the lush greenery and breathing life surrounding him. Then, he gathered all his fellow angels who shared his belief to rebel against their Lord. God knew that Aemond stirred the mind of his creation, Adam, and cut out his eye as he cast him and all who agreed with the now Satan below the Earth as punishment. Aemond was angered and scorned at the benevolent creator's decision.

From that moment on, he swore he would forever spurn God, devoting his existence to the opposite of his.

As a consequence of Aemond's actions and the intoxication of Adam's mind with thoughts of loneliness, God created another being. A companion to the man, derived from his rib, called woman, and her name was Eve.

Eve was beautiful. She was more beautiful than Aemond before his eye was stolen, and God doted on her with an intensity Aemond felt was purposeful. He grew mad with envy at the realization. What kind of Father would do such a thing to his son? How dare he? A benign God created a being more beautiful than the one cast out for it.

Satan was furious. He was enraged at God and the woman Eve. He spent all his days attempting to corrupt the innocent woman in their perfect Garden of Eden as retaliation.

It was a bothersome task. Eve was quite loyal to her God and her husband, Adam, for they were connected, and God's love was too strong to penetrate. Until one day, when Satan spied on the Lord and his children, hidden as a serpent within the lush green grass, and God told them there was one rule, the only sin they could commit.

The Tree of Knowledge. Its Fruit was golden, juicy, and ripe, begging the beings to sink their teeth into its soft flesh, but they could not, for their Lord forbade it.

Satan knew then that he had found a weakness within the perfect creatures and set out to exploit their flaw.

Life within Eden was joyful. You wanted for nothing and asked for nothing because God provided. You lived in harmony with your husband and all other living creatures. The lions resided in peace with the gazelles, the crocodiles on the shores with the zebras, and the wolves with the sheep. Everything worked per God's will. Worry was not a thought within your mind. Nothing negative ever got past the guardian cherubs at the gates of Eden, forever protected by the angels and your Lord's love.

God instructed you and Adam a few commands to follow within the Garden. One, you must serve your husband, for you are an extension of him, and second, you must never eat from the Tree of Knowledge. They were simple guidelines to follow.

You catered to your husband's every wish, ensuring he desired naught as you did. When Adam's mouth dried, you quenched his thirst from the babbling brooks. When his stomach rumbled with hunger, you satisfied him with the food from the Earth. It was what you desired, what gave you fulfillment and great happiness to serve your husband, as was God's will.

You were content in the Garden of Eden, yet one thought hung within your mind. It was only a whisper at first, the slight rustle of the breeze commanding one thing, and you busied yourself within the Lord's expectations in response. But it grew stronger until you could no longer ignore it and found yourself staring at the hanging aureate Fruit at the foot of the Tree.

You confided in Adam as to your troubles, but he dismissed you.

"Do not worry your little head about such things, dear Eve. God has a plan for us all and will not lead you into temptation."

You trusted him, just as you trusted the Father, but you soon forgot your once limitless bliss. More often than not, you would wake at the roots of the forbidden Tree with no recollection of how you got there, suddenly awoken, as if from a trance to the tale end of a deep timbre at the shell of your ear, demanding that you take one bite.

You prayed. You prayed, and you prayed, and you prayed until God finally deigned his presence to you, answering your pleas. In him, you confided your doubts of the memory lapses that brought you such agony until tears flowed from your eyes.

"Do you not have trust in me that I will protect you from your sins?"

"No, Father!" you exclaimed, quickly resending the words in error. "Yes, Father, of course I trust you."

"Then you must worry naught, sweet Eve, for you are a creation of me and my will. You must have trust in your devotion and obey my commands no matter the temptation."

You merely nodded at his words, an uneasy feeling churning in the pit of your stomach.

It was your fault, you soon realized, for not praying enough, for spending too much time caring for your own needs and not God's and Adam's. So, without hesitation, you threw yourself into the Lord's commands. You put your faith in him more than before and focused your time on God when not spent with your husband.

But it did not work.

You no longer felt the same joy when serving Adam and the Father; the fulfillment was replaced with bitterness and resentment for those you catered to for not helping you in your time of need. Thoughts of what would happen should you eat the Forbidden Fruit rattled in your head, infecting you with doubts as to what God's motives were in keeping you from it.

One day, when the sun was shining as it always did, warming your skin and filling the air with something sweet and floral, a serpent, greener and brightly scaled than you had ever seen, came slithering down the brown bark of the Tree of Knowledge.

You grinned at the creature, delighted to have the company of one of God's creations as you grasped it, allowing it to slide across your arms and legs until it wrapped around your torso, head resting between the mounds of flesh on your chest. Its pink, forked tongue tickled the sensitive skin there, causing giggles as it ventured further up until its emerald body wound around your neck and shoulders, smooth scales caressing the skin.

"Did God say, 'You must not eat from any tree in the garden'?" asked the serpent, and you were startled.

No animal had ever spoken to you before, and it sent a jolt of surprise through your limbs at something so foreign and unusual within your serene garden.

"We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, but God did say, we must not eat fruit from the one that is in the middle of it, and we must not touch it, or we will die," you answered thoughtfully, a smile on your face as the snake's tongue tickled the shell of your ear.

You attempted to pull it away, slightly uncomfortable but still joyful with how close it was to your face, but the animal only swirled around your countenance and into your hair and nestled on the opposite side.

"You will not certainly die," the serpent said to you, voice sure. "For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like him, knowing good and evil."

Gazing at the Fruit, then back to the slit, amber eyes of the snake, you faltered. Undoubtedly, the Lord would never bar you from something like this. He loved you. You and Adam were his creations. He would never keep you from something good for you. Why would God lie if the serpent's words were valid?

"There is much wonder ahead of you, little Eve. All you must do is only take one bite."

His words were convincing, poisoning your already tainted mind into disobeying God's commands. Still, you shook your head, trying to pry the snake off, but it only slithered down your body, nestling between the flesh of your legs, small head resting on the thatch of dark hair as it peered up at you.

"No, snake," you declared with defiance, brows furrowed and plump lips pouted. "He said we would die. Why would God lie to us? He loves us!"

Aemond thought you looked so beautiful then, even more beautiful than himself with the ethereal glow that radiated from your form, but he swiftly pushed the notion aside.

"Because, if you eat the Fruit in which he commanded you not to, your eyes will be opened for what the world is. You'll understand right from wrong. You will be like him," the snake whispered, his forked tongue flicking with every sentence. "If God truly loved you, he wouldn't keep all this knowledge to himself."

Aemond could see the defiance slowly leave your expression, considering what he declared the truth. "He'll never know, little lamb. I shall never tell him. You have my word." He knew you needed one more push, the correct phrases to convince you to commit the only sin you could. "You deserve to understand. You deserve to be free from the self-sacrificing chains that bind you."

Aemond moved his scaly body from yours, sliding within the knee-high grass and into the Tree. He bit into the flesh of the Fruit as he turned to your uncertain form. He swallowed the chunk into his throat, the juice sliding down his fangs as his amber eyes stared into your wide ones.

Trepidation began to leave your mind, taking a tentative step forward as you saw that the serpent did not perish. The snake took another bite, wrapping its veridian tail around a winding branch, holding the piece out, wordlessly telling you to have a taste. You inhaled a shaky breath, an emotion you had never experienced before warming your gut and the place betwixt your thighs as you leaned, taking the golden fruit from it with your teeth.

The sweet flavor washed over your tongue, some juice dribbling past your lips and sliding down your chin as your eyes shut. You felt your mind become free, a moan breaking from the confines of your chest. Opening your eyes, the Fruit slid down your throat and settled into your stomach as you gazed at the world around you.

Suddenly, you understood everything.

Why water fell from the sky, why the grass grew, why the day always followed the night, why God told you never to eat the Fruit. You did not become his omnipotent equal as the serpent claimed. You became knowledgeable. You could comprehend the vast questions of the universe that the only answer you were told was God. You now had the free will to choose what you thought and what you did. You could decide who and what you worshiped.

God could no longer control you, so he forbade you from eating the Fruits on the Tree of Knowledge.

The snake was no longer in its place; instead stood a man with features not of this world. He adorned a crown of silver longer than your own, a pale stomach chiseled and defined with muscles and scars, a light dusting of hair trailing down to where his manhood was covered with weaved fig leaves. A long, pink scar sliced the left side of his face, the socket in which his eye should be a bright blue sapphire gem complimenting the near obsidian of the other.

Abruptly, you realized you were naked in front of an unknown man, quickly covering your breasts with your arms as he only observed.

"Who-" you stuttered, warmth filling your cheeks, "who are you?"

The man smirked, the grin pulling at his cheeks in a malicious, knowing manner that sent chills down your spine. "He never told you, did he?" the man questioned with the proud quirk of his brow, stepping closer to your trembling form. "I am called many names, sweet lamb. Satan, Lucifer, Devil, the Morning Star, Beelzebub, Mephistopheles, Iblis, the Father of Lies, and much more, but you," he answered, his now single tongue licking his white teeth, "may call me Aemond."

Your lungs shuttered, legs threatening to give out as he stood nearly a hair's breadth away. You extended an arm out, preventing him from coming closer, palm touching the smooth planes of his abdomen as you cowered under his dark gaze.

"Please, do not come any closer. I am ashamed," you implored, voice quivering as tears collected at the brim of your lashes.

"What for, little lamb? Are you now feeling the shame of having disobeyed your God, now knowing he will never love you again?" You tasted the briny water on your tongue before you felt them, whimpering and flinching as Aemond brought his thumb to your cheek, stroking the tears that clumped your lashes. "I shall love you, Eve, more than your God ever could."

A scream scratched your throat as Satan's hands grabbed your waist, fingers digging into the soft skin until you were sure they would burrow through, your bare breasts touching his sculpted chest.

"You-you tricked me!" you sobbed, head moving far away from him as he licked a stripe of saltwater on your temple, groaning at the erotic taste.

"Tricked you?" he guffawed, snatching your hair. "No, sweet lamb, I saved you."

"No! No! You said I would be as God! You lied to me!" Words poured from your lips like the tears from your eyes, choking you with their excess wetness. How could you have been so foolish as to believe a talking snake? The Lord was above all and only cared for you. He provided all that you needed, yet you still gave into temptation.

"Is it power that you desire, my ignorant lamb?" he questioned, a smirk pulling at his thin, pink lips. "Do not fret, for I shall give you all that you desire and more."

Aemond's mouth slotted with yours, spearing his tongue into the wetness and exploring the soft flesh your lips kept hidden. You struggled against him in vain, nails clawing at his chest and face until they left red welts on his porcelain skin. He merely chuckled against you, grinning into the kiss as his knee made it home between your legs. You vehemently shook your skull, attempting to break from his vice-like grip on your hair.

You now understood where this was going as Aemond released you with a sickening pop only when he decided you had enough.

"Stop. I do not want this," you protested, pulling your face away from his against the force of his hand.

"But, dear Eve, you are positively wet down there. It would be a sin to leave it untouched." You could sense Aemond's grin against your skin, his lips trailing down your jaw and onto the sensitive skin of your neck, inhaling the aromatic scent of your flesh.

It had been millennia since he last had the taste of sex. He spent all that time either within the solitude of his own making or that of his fellow fallen angels. He knew that those times would not be as fulfilling as now, and a part of Aemond, deep within himself, understood that he would never wish to live without it again.

He left damp patches in his wake, unceasing in his movements until he reached the tender globe of your breast, wrapping his lips around the pert nipple and suckling like a child. The jolt of pleasure that wracked through your body was paralyzing, causing you to momentarily drop your defenses as he forced you into the tall grass below. Aemond's body weight trapped you under him, feeling every ridge and curve of his body on your own. His manhood poked at your thigh, thumping in time to the beat of your erratic heart.

"Please, have mercy on me," you cried into the heavens, hearing nothing but Satan's heavy breathing on your bosom as he moved to the other, fingers snaking down to toy at the place between your legs. "Do not touch me there! That is a place for my husband only!"

Aemond grunted, the sound vibrating your chest as he unlatched with a half-lidded expression. "And who told you that, little lamb? Your God? The same God who kept you from all the world has to offer?"

You couldn't deny his words, gazing away from the beast before you. Aemond's arms wound themselves around your legs, keeping you at his mercy as he brought your womanhood onto his watering mouth. You shuddered uncontrollably with every lick he placed onto your throbbing core, unable to silence the high-pitched mewls that escaped your throat at the actions.

His tongue was so warm and soft, involuntarily making your muscles relax in his embrace as he lapped at your folds, moldable lips curling around the bud at the top to lav it in particular attention. It felt so good you could not help but buck your hips into him, curling your digits into his hair and back arching as the wet muscle slid into your entrance. Aemond's tongue caressed your insides with the tenderness of a butterfly's kiss, stroking along a rough patch that had you seeing the stars above.

You were unsure of what came over you. The only thought in your mind and nerves being more, more, more as your movements became greedy. You ground your womanhood onto his face and shoved his nose further into you, the bridge of it providing delicious friction onto your bud. You did not care if he could breathe. It felt like a beast had possessed you, puppeteering your movements with only one goal.

Release.

You grew impervious if God or Adam heard your cries of pleasure, knowing only of the Devil betwixt your thighs that now suckled your bud as if it were your breast, causing your heels to dig into the soft soil. At this moment, you did not regret taking a bite from the Forbidden Fruit. It brought you the knowledge of ecstasy you had no idea existed. If all sins brought you the promise of this pleasure, then you would gladly and unthinkingly commit them.

A fist formed within your stomach, tensing your gut as Aemond opened his jaw wider to incorporate all of your meat into his mouth, swallowing your juices as he did to the Fruit.

He knew he had you hooked, his cock thudding painfully with arousal as he rutted in the dirt. This was just as gratifying for him as it was for you. Not only did he have the satisfaction of corrupting God's favorite in the Garden of his creation, but he also had her begging and wanton within the palm of his hand, ripe for the taking. Aemond understood there was only one last thing he must do before he could finally destroy God's most precious creation.

He knew you were close. You only needed one more push, as you did before, to finally fall off the edge so you could become his in sin. He doubled his efforts, slurping obscenely at your puffy cunt until it nearly drowned out your moans.

You couldn't breathe, your breath coming out in pants as your legs clamped down on Aemond's perfect silver head, shrieking into the skies as you felt your first peak crash into you. Wave after wave hit your body as never before, tears leaking onto your temples as your back arched in ecstasy. It felt like honey had been poured into your veins, leaking onto Aemond's face as you spasmed around him.

His thumbs delicately stroked the skin of your thighs as you became lax against him, body trembling. A smirk wound its way onto his lips as he let you go, licking your release from his lips as he eyed your drooling cunt. It was simply begging to be filled, the hole weeping for him to enter as he situated his legs under yours, settling on his haunches and tearing the fig leaves from his groin.

You were too blissed out to comprehend the happenings around you, head lulled to the side and eyes shut as he parted your glistening folds with his thumbs. Finally, you looked down at Aemond's ruddy cockhead kissing your entrance. Long-forgotten fear suddenly filled your chest, replacing the pleasure you had found before.

You did not want him to take you. While you had gone against your husband and God with his mouth on your flesh, you did not desire for your virtue to be stolen by him. It was still Adam's right to do so, and you quickly squirmed beneath him, attempting to slide your back along the flattened grass. Aemond grunted in admonishment, pulling your hips back to his own as he locked them around his waist.

"You run from me still," he stated more than asked with a curious tilt of his head. If you had not known better, you would've sensed the slight hurt laced under the bass of his voice. "There is nowhere for you to go, sweet Eve. Your God will not possibly love you after what you have committed here."

Tears, not from pleasure, welled in your eyes as you stared up at him. His face was impassive, concentrating on lining his cock with your virginal hole. When Aemond finally breached the tight entrance, your cries were heard in the heavens, causing the unseen eyes of God to search for you.

It hurt, impossibly so, and the pain did not stay within the assaulted area, traveling through your walls and down to the tips of your toes. You sobbed uncontrollably, vision blurred from agony and tears as he tore through you to the hilt.

"Oh, God, please," you blubbered, unable to withhold your sobs of torment any longer. "Please, have mercy, I beg of you."

"Does it hurt?" Aemond asked saccharine, disregarding your pain with a mock tenderness in his tone. You nodded, weakly pushing at his pelvis as another stretch of pain speared you. "Do not worry. It shall only last for a moment. It will be nothing compared to the hundreds I have spent locked away within the depths of Hell, cast out as no longer one of God's favorites."

You whimpered, tears leaking from your eyes and muddying the ground below. You felt a dampness between your legs, different from the previous sensation, and trained your gaze onto Aemond's manhood. Blood covered his shaft and porcelain thighs, smearing the viscous liquid across his pelvis and staining the light dusting of hair there red.

Aemond wanted this to be painful for you-wanted you to feel every ounce of heart-wrenching agony he felt when his Father cast him out of the heavens. It was the closest he could get to hurting the one he desired.

"Please, stop," you choked, attempting in vain to free yourself once more. "It's too much. I-I cannot take it." You felt your head become full, a disorientating wave rolling through your mind as your vision darkened.

Aemond did not let you stay in that unfeeling state for long, moving his digits to rub circles over your swollen bud and sparking your body back to life with a drawn-out whine. He could not have you unconscious for this. He wanted you to feel everything-every shiver that ran up your spine, every touch of his skin on yours, every begrudging clench of your suffocating walls around his girth as he rutted into you.

Soon, that familiar tingle within your stomach began to grow, causing a wet clicking sound to emanate from your womanhood and a creamy, white ring to form around the base of his cock. The shame mixed with slowly rising high fogged your brain, unable to focus on anything other than the moist slap, slap, slap of Aemond's hips against yours.

You could no longer stand the sight of his sculpted body above yours, sun rays shining behind his silver hair in a juxtaposing halo as you turned your vision to the swaying blades of grass beside you. He cooed tenderly at your disgrace, bow lips forming a mock pout and grabbing your jaw to return your misty eyes to his.

"So pretty. Prettier than me," Aemond murmured to himself rather than you, cheeks squished underneath the pressure of his digits. "God did well with you, I am loathed to confess."

You struggled to remove your face from his grip, his fingers digging in meanly in response to your resistance as pleasure mounted with every kiss of his head to your sweet spot. Hiccuping in time with his thrusts, you sobbed, eyes rolling into their sockets as Aemond continued to swirl your abused nub until more wetness was released from inside.

"Poor thing," he purred, an uneasy grin wrinkling the blushed scar on his face. "Sweet little lamb, there is no use resisting the evils of this world. Give in to me once more, and you shall be free from all that ails you. Free from a God who does not love you... not like I can."

You tried to deny his words, refuting his claims internally with a shake of your head. God's love was unyielding; it was more bountiful than the fruits and vegetables in the Garden of Eden. Satan could not possibly love you more than him-accept you more than your creator did. He was a liar. Aemond was a snake. He deceived you once before, and he was doing it again.

Only God could love you unconditionally for who you were, sins and all. You trusted that he would see your innocence in all this and allow you a chance of forgiveness. He would absolve you of your transgressions here today, for he was a benevolent being who understood you were the victim of Satan's trickery.

That was the only fact in which consoled you enough for your walls to finally release, gushing your second peak all over Aemond's glistening, scarlet cock. It enveloped you in rapture, causing you to shriek and uncontrollably quiver as it ran through your bones like the stampede of wild horses that frolicked in the Garden.

Aemond sang your praises from above, reminding you of the hymns the angels recited as his movements became rougher, more frantic as if to chase something. It prolonged your high just that much longer, and you were powerless to hold still with the animalistic positioning of his hips, both fists burrowing into your waist as his strength rubbed your back raw on the flattened foliage.

Aemond came with a shuddering growl, thrusting into you to extend his peak to the fullest. "Yes, take it. Fucking take my seed and give me my army like the good little lamb you are."

Your limbs twitched as the aftershocks of your release wore through you, his words lost on your ears. Mind numb and form pliant his movements slowed, noiseless groans rumbling the hollow of Aemond's chest. He had not felt this fulfilled since the day he was constructed, observing the pearly liquid leak from your overfilled cunt as he parted your folds with his thumbs.

You indeed were a sight to behold, and although he abhorred the notion, he believed you were God's most extraordinary conception, above even that of himself. His pride would never allow him to admit such a thing aloud, and he was content with the idea that no one but himself would ever know of it.

Aemond pulled out of your abused heat with a squelch and a quiet whimper from you, observing his seed as it ran to the ground below. He had planted in more ways than one and was content with the thought as he slipped into the shadows of his serpentine form. Still there as before, always watching yet unseen with a grin crinkling the corners of his vision.

His exit went unnoticed by you, too blissed to realize he had abandoned you despite your fragile state. Your chest heaved as you regained your breath, wiping away the sweat at the back of your brow as you slowly return your gaze to between your legs, finally understanding that Aemond was no longer within your presence. It caused a sinking feeling at the pit of your stomach, a frown adorning your once glowing features as you looked to the uninhabited Garden, confusion furrowing your brow.

Why had Aemond abandoned you? Had you done something wrong?

You could not help the feeling of loneliness that crept up your body, caging you within its dark claws. Releasing a shuddering breath, you sniffled, steeling your will as you attempted to stand, seeking the physical and spiritual comfort that only Adam and God could provide. A sharp, burning sensation radiated from your womanhood and caused you to crumble to your knees. You did not withhold your tears as they stung your eyes, wincing in great pain as you tried to stand once more, only to fail.

The sound of the softly crunching grass perked your ears, revealing that you were soon not alone. Hastily, you hid behind a tree, its tall trunk obscuring your naked body from the visitor.

"Where are you?" the voice of God called out, searching for his beloved creation. You swallowed the lump in your throat, mouth becoming dry as anxiety cinched your heart.

The air no longer held its same warmth, filling you with unease.

"Here, my Lord," you answered shakily, voice softer than the breeze that swept through your locks as you poked your head from behind the tree.

"Why are you hiding?" he asked kindly, and with no hint that he knew what you had done, the smell of incense wafting into your nose.

"I heard you in the Garden, and I was afraid because I was naked," you responded demurely, eye focused on the ground below, "so I hid."

God's silence scared you enough to bring your tearful gaze to his, body shrinking into itself as he observed you. "Who told you that you were naked? Have you ate from the Tree in which I commanded you not to?"

You did not answer him right away, inhaling a shaky breath of aromatic wind as you hugged your arms closer to your body. Shame filled you to your core, having lost the confidence in God's forgiveness now that you were met face to face.

"The serpent deceived me, and I ate," you cried, falling at his bare feet in humiliation. "I fell into temptation and disobeyed your command. Please, forgive me, Father, for I have sinned in the only way you told me not to!" you begged, hands clasped into a fist, uncaring of your bare form before his eyes.

God no longer looked at you with the same love and adoration as you were accustomed to, eyes now filled with fury and hate you never knew him capable of. He turned away from you, vision trained on something within the lush, knee-high grass you could not see.

"Because you have done this, cursed are you above all livestock and all wild animals! You will crawl on your belly, and you will eat dust all the days of your life!" he raged at the emerald serpent, who only stared at him with unblinking, slanted, amber eyes.

So Aemond had not abandoned you, you realized fleetingly, a flame of hope and gratitude flickering in your chest before God turned to you again.

"I will make your pains in childbearing very severe; with painful labor, you will give birth to children. Adam shall not receive the punishment I bestow upon you, and your desire will be for your husband, who will rule over you," he seethed, index finger pointing accusingly. "Cursed is the ground because of you! Through painful toil, you will eat food from it all the days of your life. It will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your brow, you will consume your food until you return to the ground since you were taken from it!"

You wailed, helplessly so, crumbling on your knees before God as you prayed the forgiveness he claimed his love rought but received none. "For dust you are, and to dust you will return," he declared, a roar of thunder clapping through the sky despite the blue of it as he vanished as quickly as he came.

You collapsed on all fours, digging your fingers into the soil, sod sticking under your nails as you sobbed. Cries of despair shook your body, clawing your throat raw as your tears watered the grass below.

God had abandoned you when you needed him most. He scorned you as blood stained your thighs and bruises littered your skin. You felt hopeless-helpless in your isolation that combined with bitterness in your broken heart.

What kind of God disregarded those who worshiped the ground he walked on? You devoted your existence to glorifying him, you put your undying trust into him, and when you needed him most, he punished you. This was his fault.

You confided your troubles to the Father, who dismissed you, blaming you for your plights and saying that the only solution would be sacrificing more of yourself until nothing was left. And you listened ignorantly. You followed the shepherd God like the lamb Satan claimed you to be, and this is where he left you. Alone with only the sounds of chirping birds and crickets with the scent of mud clinging to your flesh.

Fury scratched its way out of your soul as you screamed, pounding your fists again and again and again into the dampened sod until you left impactions in your wake. You mourned for the loss of the life you once knew, now replaced with hardship and permanent subservience to your already king husband.

You hated Adam for dismissing you. You hated God for condemning you. An inferno of emotions you had never felt burned at your insides, charring them until nothing was left but blackened rot.

You felt the familiar smooth scales of a snake wind itself across your torso in an almost comforting manner, slithering down your arm and raising gooseflesh before you quickly snatched it by the hinge of its jaw.

You stared into the tan color of its iris, your tears drying and cracking your cheeks. "I should kill you," you spat, meanly pinching the vertebrae behind the serpent's glimmering green head.

"Do it, little lamb. Kill me," he hissed, a challenging gleam in his beady stare. He knew you could not do it just as you did, but it did not quell the anger in your heart.

You glared at Aemond in rage, eyes puffy and red as your chin trembled. The idea ran through your head as if it happened before you, smashing his small arrow-shaped skull with a stone until his bones and brains were mush. It gave you great joy to imagine, envisioning the smell of his coppery blood as it stained the ground as your tears did, yet you did not move. You stared at Aemond, teeth clenched as you observed the rosey flicking of his forked tongue.

"Show yourself to me," you declared, placing his slender body on the ground as your brows set in a firm line.

Slowly, before your eyes, you no longer saw a serpent but a man. The same man who stole your virtue and surrendered you to ensure the wrath of God alone, kneeling in front of you.

"You left me." The words weighed on your tongue like rocks, not fully admitting what you wanted to say due to your pride.

Aemond's gaze flicked over your naked form, taking note of the welts and essence he left behind. "I did," he replied, voice impassive.

You let the silence hang, ire still evident in your expressions as you observed his stoic face. What would ending his life do? While it would give you great pleasure to seek revenge on someone, it would not change God's decision or your fate. It would not make Adam see you as an equal and not a being less than him.

As if Aemond could sense your inner turmoil, he took your shaking hand in his, steadying it with a gentleness you did not know him capable of. It startled you, causing you to flinch, but he held firm. Was this the true Aemond or another side of him? Was he as wicked and cruel as he was when he stole your virtue, or was that simply a response to the same abandonment he felt from the Lord?

Suddenly, you understood him. You were both creatures victim of a callus and vengeful God who only found love in blind obedience-a God who did not want his ultimate authority ever brought into question. He did not like those who did not follow him in unthinking faith. He wanted lambs, not autonomous beings with thoughts and ideals. He desired those who would serve him and his teachings without question, no matter the harm it would do.

You would serve no God or man but yourself.

Swiftly, you shoved Aemond onto his back with a thud, straddling his waist as you pinned his wrists beside his fanned-out silver hair. You gazed into his eyes, a completely black obsidian orb and an expressionless sapphire one staring back, searching for something as you leaned over his sculpted face, your breath fanning across his skin. Slotting your nose with his, you felt a surge of possession overcome you, poking your moist tongue from between your lips and licking a stripe up the raised flesh of his scar.

Aemond shuddered beneath you, his hardening cock stirring to life between your folds. It felt empowering to know that you affected him as much as he did you, and a smile graced your wet mouth at the realization. You removed yourself from him, observing the way his glistening chest heaved, gradually forming a blush to the pale flesh from the heat of your body.

The dried blood and spent coating your thighs flaked annoyingly on your skin, sticking onto Aemond's hips in brittle chunks as a smirk adorned your features. "You ought to clean me up after what you did," you jeered, sliding your palms down his arms. "It is disgraceful to leave the woman you fucked in such a disheveled state."

Aemond watched you in what only could be described as wonder as you brought your womanhood to hover over his visage, hands now digging into your plush waist. His mouth watered at the sight before him, the blood coating your groin, his seed still weeping from your entrance. He was proud to have left his mark on your perfect body, spoiling you against God.

Oh, how you had changed from the sweet, innocent, unknowing little lamb he met you as...

You arched a quizzical brow, lips in a thin line as you waited for Aemond to stop his ogling and give what you asked. "Go on," you urged with the tilt of your head, voice holding a coldness you had never heard.

Aemond did not hesitate, bringing your core to his mouth as warmth spread throughout your body. He followed your commands earnestly, eagerly cleaning the mess as that familiar pleasure sprouted. You had not realized there was a tenseness to your muscles until his tongue forced you to relax, laving the crust of his seed and your essence around your cunt.

The sheer dominance at having the Devil himself betwixt your legs was intoxicating, releasing guttural, wanton moans as his aquiline nose brushed against your throbbing bud. Aemond let out a contented sound at the salty and coppery taste sliding down his throat, believing he had never had such a divine essence in his mouth until now.

"You are God's most vile creation, tricking and tempting innocents into your desires," you snarled, undulating your hips across his mouth. "Now, it is time for me to treat you the same."

You could see your blood staining the area around his mouth and nose, creating the most beautiful, debauched shade of scarlet on his skin as he focused his efforts on the button at the top of your mound. Uncaring whether Aemond could breathe, you dug your fingers into his hair, pulling at the roots as your legs tightened around his head.

He began to lap at your entrance, his spit stinging the raw skin and creating a delicious burn of pain and pleasure as he stroked the rough patch between your walls. You were in control, the vicelike grip around Aemond's skull giving him no choice but to bring you the ecstasy, the thought setting your nerves a light. It filled you with more satisfaction than when he was there previously, having him at your mercy. You were his God now. He worshiped your cunt as you did the Lord every moment of your life.

Removing your fingers from Ameond's hair, you intertwined them with yours, guiding them to your neglected breasts as you continued to grind against his face. He pinched and flicked your nipples taught, sending jolts of bliss through your veins and straight to your aching cunt.

The musky scent of sweat and bodies hung in the once-floral environment, infecting the air with your shared sins. Aemond's darkness infiltrated your head, the toxic sludge poisoning your mind further into wanting things only the most despicable creatures desired. You hoped for Adam to happen upon you both, to see what he was missing under God's thumb, to have him realize that you were not less than simply because the Lord told him so.

The same knot as before wound inside your stomach, your body trembling and tensing all over as Aemond's fists left your soft breasts and landed on your hips, pushing your core further onto his mouth. Your muscles went slack at the intensity of his movements, leaning back and balancing your weight on your palms on both sides of him.

Aemond's cock flickered at the edge of your vision, a ruddy and almost angry-looking head weeping a pearlescent liquid. You had not seen his cock in its full glory until now, bluish veins running along the underside of his long, flesh-colored shaft as it twitched with every flick of his tongue.

The sight made your mouth water, wishing to take him as he did you, but could not from this angle. You instead held a shaking arm out, grasping his member in your delicate hand. Aemond's hips bucked in response, surprise covering his chiseled, angelic features, focus unfaltering. You pumped him experimentally a few times, observing which strokes and squeezes made his toes curl and legs bend.

You eventually discovered a pace and grip that had him moaning into your core, sending a gratifying vibration through you, watching as Aemond's slit leaked more milky liquid, nearly disappearing under the blanket of his blushed foreskin. His ministrations plucked at the knotted threads one by one, leading you closer and closer to your release before you stopped yourself short, lungs stuttering at the loss of ecstasy.

Hastily, you removed your cunt from his mouth, his lips and tongue chasing after it in want. You smiled at the slight frown on his glistening lips, placing your womanhood on the throbbing heat of his cock and leisurely grinding your hips against him. Aemond groaned throatily into himself, attempting to stifle it with a thrust, palms finding themselves back on your waist to assist.

"Put it in you," he demanded, voice hoarse as his hips rolled with yours. While he wanted to give you the lead, he could only take so much, perspiration dampening his brow and testing his patience.

You ceased your movements, roughly snatching his cock in a brutal ironclad grip and gracing a reprimanding slap to his cheek as punishment for his demands. "You shall not command me," you growled, harshly stroking the smooth flesh until he hissed in discomfort. "No longer shall I wait hand and foot on men or follow those in blind faith. I will serve only myself for I am my own creation."

Aemond could not hide his lopsided smirk at your words, pride filling his chest. His plans had come to fruition. He caused God's favorite daughter to go astray and see him for what he was. Finally, another being in the vast cosmos understood his pain. It bound you to him, a realization you were gradually accepting.

"I am the neglected child that burns the village down to feel its warmth. I will spurn God and all men he creates," you hissed, positioning your hips above his cock with agonizingly slow movement.

Yes, Aemond thought. Yes, yes, yes, succumb to your dark desires.

"I will sow the seed of doubt and sin with the fruits of my labors. My children will infect their minds and bodies, inspire animosity and harm to others. They shall start wars and believe in gods that are not true," you declared, the heat of your rage warming Aemond's cold heart.

You slid him inside, your walls choking his cock with a profound sigh. He stretched you deliciously, the hurt a welcomed feeling as his head reached so far inside you felt as if it kissed your womb. You began to slowly work yourself atop him, still unaccustomed to the feeling and letting out noiseless mewls of satisfaction. Aemond's cockhead rubbed at your sweet spot with every undulation, sending webs of pleasure to stick to your bones.

Control was intoxicating, watching Aemond puff and struggle to accept that he was beneath you, helpless but to take the same pleasure he forced on you. You understand now why God kept you from the Tree. No one should have this much authority.

"No longer am I the sheep but now the wolf that kills the herd and the shepherd," you express with a prolonged breath.

Aemond sighed and nodded his head briskly, agreeing to whatever you said so long as you kept him inside your warm cunt. You continued to grind yourself against him; the combination of satisfaction within your body and on the out sent a new wave of slickness from your core. Your bud tantalizingly rubbed the firm muscle of Aemond's pubic mound, the hairs adding a different texture that spread a great heat underneath your skin.

"I will supply you an army of my blood and your seed. We shall wreak vengeance on God. He will know the pain he has caused ten-fold," you gasped, moving yourself up and down with the muscles of your abdomen and thighs.

Aemond wished for you to go slower, yet faster. The sensation of just laying there, taking it, unable to regain control he had grappled with all his life, was mind-numbing. Your words kindled the flames that licked his gut. The idea of you creating life with your flesh, the unspoken sacrifice of excruciating agony you would willingly put yours through, made him combust, his hot seed sprouting and planting into your walls at an embarrassing speed.

You grinned at the feeling of his spend taking home inside you, having only been riding him for mere moments before he came. It stoked your ego, inflating it into a size that rivaled Aemond's as he whimpered below you, curling into himself. You refused to stop despite his pleas of overstimulation. You had not reached your fulfillment yet, and you had no intention of halting it.

Men like him deserved to suffer, albeit pleasurably. If Aemond meant what he said when he convinced you to eat the Fruit, that you would have the power you subconsciously craved, this would be a consequence. You would push him to the brink of painful ecstasy to ensure your end, as he certainly would for you. It was equality, after all.

"Does it hurt?" you cooed, repeating his words as you leaned over his heaving body, continuing your ministrations. "Now you know how it feels to be so helpless to your body, to the pleasures of the flesh one can give you."

Aemond understood with the voice in the back of his mind that he could easily overwhelm you. Your physical strengths were no match for him, but he wanted you to have a taste of the power beings like him and God possessed.

You stroked the delicate skin of Aemond's visage tenderly, contrasting the intricate movements of your hips as you greedily chased your high. You were smashing your lips against his, creating a mess of teeth and moans as you led his hand down to the apex of your thighs, wordlessly commanding him. Aemond bucked and twitched, unable to control himself as he felt another agonizing release crest at his lower back. If Aemond wanted this torture to be over, he would have to earn it.

You forced his fingers to draw firm, sloppy circles around your swollen bud, groaning as a shudder wracked your body, your release winding right in your stomach. Finally, you removed your mouth from Aemond's, sucking in a ragged breath of air as you shuddered over him. Your hips gradually began to stall, the muscles within your thighs burning with inexperienced exertion as Aemond gazed at your damp face with besotted amazement.

Your ethereal glow had vanished, no doubt as punishment for your disobedience, but he did not believe it affected your beauty. You were divine in Aemond's eyes, not only in appearance but in representation. The Lord could create things out of dust, but you, you could make things out of your essence. While God still could raise his creations with love and dominance, they could always reject their Father, for they were made from nothing, but your children could not escape you, their mother's blood. This was a power God would never possess, a strength he had kept hidden from you until Aemond opened your eyes.

He believed that the Lord purposely kept you blind from this quality of yourself. It was partially the reason why he groomed you to think you were less than him and Adam, for if you knew the true power that was made into the very biological code of your being, you would understand that you and God were equal. There is no influence as powerful as a mother's, and even God could not deny that.

You felt your peak rising with every swipe of Aemond's digits and every tremble of your legs, chest heaving and sweat dripping down your sternum. Eventually, Aemond's overstimulation gave way to pleasure, helpless and near lightheaded as he attempted to chase the salty droplets on your breasts. He licked and sucked at your nipples, rolling them between his tongue and teeth with every groan.

Finally, you came with an Earth-shattering cry, your walls subconsciously milking Aemond for all his worth as his movements continued on your bud. You shivered and shuddered as your climax seized your muscles, lungs unable to inhale a grounding breath as each wave crashed into you and rattled your bones. He wanted to prolong your high, seeking gratification in your own until he busted, cock once again filling your womb with his seed. He whimpered underneath you, back arching and legs bowing, the sound like the sticky, saccharine honey you licked from your fingers for breakfast every morning.

Collapsing into Aemond's hard chest, you felt his spend leak from your cunt. You had never felt so complete, so unequivocally stuffed and sated, that you felt yourself drift into a plane of the unknown existence. Perhaps this was what heaven felt like? The thought rattled in your brain as you blinked leisurely, gaze fuzzy. Perhaps pleasure like this was what God wanted to protect you from, not autonomy and sentience. Maybe he knew that if you or Adam ate the Forbidden Fruit, your mind and body would be opened to vices of the flesh.

It did not matter now. What was done was done. God abandoned you and condemned you to a life of hardship, subservience, and mental and physical anguish. He left you without a care for your well-being, with blood between your legs and your innocence stolen.

Resentment reignited in your chest, pushing yourself off Aemond with a subdued grunt. He eyed you with a quirked brow, his seeing-eye now a prominent blue matching the sapphire that reflected the sun's rays in a caleidoscope of cerulean across your countenance.

You stood over Aemond's prone form, his arms winding behind his head as he gazed up at you quizzically. You could not help but admire his lithe form, body toned, the muscles of his arms and legs sculpted around his bones, tendons rippling as he stretched lazily. He was the most magnificently shaped being you had ever seen, and Aemond knew it, smirking beside himself as he watched your gaze drift to his softened member.

He suddenly seemed so much more human, the realization flicking a switch inside your mind. Aemond was an angel, yes, God's former morning star, but you did not see him above you anymore. He was no longer Lucifer, Satan, or Mephistopheles, the ruler of Hell, God's fallen attendant. To you, he was simply Aemond, a being that had titles that meant nothing now.

Yet you were no longer just Eve, for that name felt like the title of a dead woman, a woman who was blind, reedy, and ignorant to the reality of what the world had to offer, a woman who lived with blinders on her face until a serpent opened her mind. You would not thank Aemond for doing so. He did not do it out of the goodness of his heart. Just like now, how you vowed to repudiate God's will, you were a part of his plan, though you did not believe he thought it would end in this turn of events.

Aemond smiled above at you, his scar wrinkling as he raised his arm in your direction, an invitation to join him at his side. You stared at his offering with reservation, swallowing a lump you didn't realize had formed. You understood that this action was more than just an invitation to touch, your future weighing heavily in his palm. He was wordlessly giving you the option to turn away from the road ahead, to run back into the comfort of the known and away from the discomfort of the unknown. He placed before you autonomy and control of your fate, and it caused you to pause.

What would life be with the Devil at your side? Would he force you to become his servant as God did? You gave Aemond your body and womb, parts of you that you did not realize you could provide to others, and he used it to further his agenda. Yes, you were enraged that he treated you as a tool, but you knew you could do the same for him as quickly. If not for you, Aemond wouldn't have his army. He would still be stuck in the fire and brimstone below, fuming and plotting the perfect moment for his vengeance.

"I will be your equal, not your disciple." Your voice rang out through the Garden, now smooth and authoritative, reminding you of your vindictive God.

Aemond only smiled. He looked as if he was the one who resided on Earth, and you were the fallen angel, curling his toes and lengthening his torso as he adjusted atop the flattened grass.

"Did I imply you would not be?" he inquired with a raised, lightly colored brow.

You took Aemond's hand in yours, intertwining them together. He was surprisingly warm, tucking you into his side as a noiseless gasp escaped your lips, wrapping a possessive arm around your waist. The action sent a shudder down your spine, having never been in a purely soft, intimate position with a man, even Adam, as your body relaxed.

From your blood, you would create the demons of the world. The thoughts inside your fellow human heads that told them to steal that toy from your friend simply because you wanted it. You would never forgive God for what he did. Those who claimed to understand what was best for you-loved you did not punish you with pain and suffering for actions that were not your own.

Your eyes flitted across his toned abdomen, eyes drifting down his stomach and to his fleshy cock, pink and beating with life.

No longer would you be subservient to others; you would raise your children with loving yet gentle hands, allowing them to choose how they conducted their business and protecting them from those who sought harm. Your love would be unyielding and unending, unlike your so-called benevolent God, and then, he would finally see the depths of which the true devotion of love could bring.

Masterlist of Works

Thank you so much for reading, and make sure to leave a comment on what you think!

And now, back to our regularly scheduled fanfics...

May God have mercy on our souls.

[victoriadallonfan]

I feel real stupid for not noticing the Teacher and Simurgh parallels, and why Wildbow chose to have them as Victoria’s Big Bads:

- Cockroaches 28.2

- Cell 22.3

- Dying 15.6

- Infrared 19.z

Teacher and the Simurgh represent the relationship of a Tyrannical & Unfair System, and Those Who Want to Be the System.

The Simurgh was built for the sole purpose of keeping the Shard Cycle running and has no emotion or care for its work, unlike Fragile One or Grasping Self who do care about the hosts. The Simurgh is quite literally a machine, a program, built by an oppressive force on humanity (the Entities).

Oppression is her very EXISTENCE.

Teacher is a man. He self proclaims himself as a mastermind who has flawless plans and who wanted to simply see how the world works. He cannot innovate or create himself, but he can lead those who do (unintended Elon Musk comparison there…). He claims that every goal of his, every act, and every terror strike is to save humanity.

But when you look at what he does with his power, what his true goal is, you understand that it’s all a lie.

Teacher doesn’t just copy the Simurgh’s playbook (pretending to be benevolent with their power but secretly mastering people, using pawns for terrorist acts, programming people to fulfill roles in their society) but he quite plainly want to Be the Entities. He planned on merging with his Shard and becoming a God, making the Cycle his (his Titan form is quite literally him blending himself into his Shard).

While this is all important to Victoria because she highly values individualism, consent, and human free will, it’s also important because Victoria also wanted to be part of a system.

True, it was a system of heroes, but it was a system that was clearly failing and throughout the run of Ward, Victoria keeps getting burned by this system. The heroes refuse to acknowledge or reward her efforts of saving the city or the world, they blame her for things outside her control, or they blame her when she saves them all.

And that’s not even getting into how her own actions have been self-harming as she tries to live up to heroic ideals instilled into her since birth.

By the time that Vic saves the multiverse (arguably for the second time), Victoria bluntly rejects a return to the system. She lays out how she needs to take a step back, listen to people who want to help her, and re-evaluate her goals in life. She even succeeds in getting the Wardens to look at their system and acknowledge that it has to change, and a small step could be made right then and there.

Victoria ends up - ironically enough - becoming a teacher (I’m sure that pissed Teacher off) and emphasizing to the younger generation about how empathy, honesty, and transparency are needed for helping with people going through mental health crises. That it should be about making them feel safe more than “winning”.

[naxalite1967]

Some of my favorite quotes:

"While the state exists, there can be no freedom. When there is freedom, there will be no state." — Vladimir Lenin

"We have no compassion and we ask no compassion from you. When our turn comes, we shall not make excuses for the terror." — Karl Marx

"When I give food to the poor they call me a saint. When I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a communist." — Dom Hélder Câmara

"I am, somehow, less interested in the weight and convolutions of Einstein’s brain than in the near certainty that people of equal talent have lived and died in cotton fields and sweatshops." — Stephen Jay Gould

"They talk about the failure of socialism but where is the success of capitalism in Africa, Asia and Latin America?" — Fidel Castro

"A revolution is not a dinner party, or writing an essay, or painting a picture, or doing embroidery; it cannot be so refined, so leisurely and gentle, so temperate, kind, courteous, restrained and magnanimous. A revolution is an insurrection, an act of violence by which one class overthrows another." — Mao Zedong

"Those who come with wheat, millet, corn or milk they are not helping us. Those who really want to help us can give us ploughs, tractors, fertilizer, insecticide, watering cans, drills, dams. That is how we would define food aid." — Thomas Sankara

"Growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of a cancer cell." — Edward Abbey

"Colonialism is not a machine capable of thinking, a body endowed with reason. It is naked violence. And it only gives in when confronted with greater violence." — Frantz Fanon

"The reason Socialism never took root in America is because the oppressed masses don't see themselves as an exploited proletariat, but as temporarily embarrassed millionaires." — John Steinbeck

"The life of a single human being is worth a million times more than all the property of the richest man on earth." — Che Guevara

"No altar, no belief, no holy book... have ever been able to reconcile the rich and the poor, the exploiter and the exploited. And if Jesus himself had to take the whip to chase them from his temple, it is indeed because that is the only language they hear." — James Connolly

"We will turn our hearts into steel, which we will temper in the fire of suffering and the blood of fighters for freedom. We will make our hearts cruel, hard, and immovable, so that no mercy will enter them, and so that they will not quiver at the sight of a sea of enemy blood. We will let loose the floodgates of that sea." — Luis Felipe de la Fuente

"So I decided to become a midwife… I wanted to deliver a thousand babies. And as each one arrives, especially the little girls, I’ll be there first to whisper into her tender little ear: REBEL! REBEL!" — Emma Goldman

"All revolutions have failed? Perhaps. But rebellion for good cause is self-justifying -- a good in itself. Rebellion transforms slaves into human beings, if only for an hour." — Howard Zinn

"The mine owners did not find the gold, they did not mine the gold, they did not mill the gold, but by some weird alchemy all the gold belonged to them." — Carlos Fuentes

"Without authorities and specialists, everyone would be a hundred ways wiser. Without benevolence and righteousness, people would rediscover caring, the familial bond. Without power-schemes and profiteering there'd be no thugs and thieves." — Mikhail Bakunin

"Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now for you will be filled ... But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep." — Jesus Christ (from the Gospel of Luke)

"I dream of a society where I would be guillotined as a conservative." — Mikhail Bakunin

"To revolt is a natural tendency of life. Even a worm turns against the foot that crushes it. In general, the vitality and relative dignity of an animal can be measured by the intensity of its instinct to revolt." — Peter Kropotkin

"We Live in Capitalism, it’s power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings." — Arundhati Roy

"Government is as unreal, as intangible, as unapproachable as God. Try it, if you don't believe it. Seek through the legislative halls of America and find, if you can, the Government. In the end you will be doomed to confer with the agent, as before." — William S. Burroughs

"With the abolition of private property, then, we shall have true, beautiful, healthy Individualism. Nobody will waste his life in accumulating things, and the symbols for things. One will live. To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all." — Oscar Wilde

"One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws. I would agree with St. Augustine that 'an unjust law is no law at all.'" — Martin Luther King Jr.

"You cannot buy the revolution. You cannot make the revolution. You can only be the revolution. It is in your spirit, or it is nowhere." — Ursula K. Le Guin

"Ask for work. If they don't give you work, ask for bread. If they do not give you work or bread, then take bread." — Louis Blanc

[gallusrostromegalus]

so if Yachiru Kusajishi is older than Shinji and still looks like a small child, while Tetsuzaimon Iba grew up from in utero to a full adult while the Vizoreds were in the living world, what determines the rate of maturation for a particular soul in AEIWAM?

Short Version: Hell is Clogged, and the Demons are desperately trying to keep powerful souls OUT until there is room for them, AND trying to yank powerful souls in ASAP when an opening becomes available, and this makes Powerful Souls age funny.

Slightly more complex version:

So in AEIWAM, the Exit from Hell is currently being blocked by God's Dismembered Ass.

This means that there is an ENORMOUS Queue of Perfectly Reformed Souls trying to get out, and there *is* a constant steady trickle of souls out of Hell, but Nowhere near enough, and worse, once a soul is reformed, it doesn't give off spiritual energy to feed the Life Machine anymore.

So Hell is in the VERY Precarious Position where they NEED powerful souls to enter Hell so they can off-gas spiritual power to keep the machine that generates reality going, but if they get too many too strong souls too fast, they risk blowing a hole in the side of the hell dimension and, ah.

Well, All Hell breaking Loose.

So the demons in Hell are constantly making complex calculations about who actually get to enter- Souls that have good Karma, even if they're powerful are typically booted to the Spirit World until there's an opening (like a former captain finally returning to baseline power and reincarnating), and Souls with Bad Karma but not much spiritual power can get sent to the afterlife they don't actually deserve because they're so far back in the triage. At the same time, they're constantly giving extra life force, get-out-of-death-free cards and other chicanery to exceptionally powerful souls to keep them "alive" until there's room.

...And also yanking them down the SECOND there's an opening to fill because they absolutely cannot let the Life Machine's battery get any lower.

This power-scramble is responsible for a lot of Bizarre Aging and Dying Phenomena:

Tetsuzaimon Iba was born, aged at a normal human rate until his 26th birthday and then just. Stopped. This happened to his mother too. She's been 29 for 342 years now. That's not the only form of Delayed Aging that hits Spiritually powerful people: Some people just age at a slow but consistent rate- 1 year for every 5 lived is pretty common for rank-and-file shinigami. Yamamoto had gone through several slowdowns- as a young man he was aging 1-for-10, but once he founded Soul Society it slowed to 1-for-25 and ever since The Divorce he seems to have stopped aging at 'A Ridiculously Ripped 80-something'.

Hisana Kuchiki was struck down with Sudden Incurable Wasting when one of the smaller power slots opened up and a Demon tried to pull her in with a quick accident and accidentally caused her to *linger*. The Demon is PROFOUNDLY sorry, takes very good care of Hisana down there, and lives in terror of the day Byakuya gets down there and kicks it's ass.

Demons are not actually malicious, though they can be really unpleasant. Demons are essentially the Social Workers of the Wheel of Samsara, helping damaged or dangerous souls become better people before they reincarnate. The relationship between the average soul in Hell and their assigned demon ranges approximately from 'your benevolent and genuinely helpful therapist' to 'your overworked and jaded parole officer'.

The exception is for souls with good karma that are there to vent power- A Demon assigned to one of those cases is essentially the Soul's Personal Assistant/babysitter to make sure the soul doesn't break anything down there. "Shinigami Supervisor" is a DEEPLY coveted position in hell- You get all the spiritual sustenance you can handle, very little paperwork, AND you get to have fun adventures with a cool person who (largely) has their shit together! So the competition for the Next Opening is ferocious. Shinigami scientists have noted that there is often an uptick in seismic activity, the appearance of hot springs, and unusually hot weather all over the living and spirit worlds in the month leading up to the death of a Captain or other powerful soul, but aren't sure why. The reason is Demon Job Promotion Thunderdome, held in the time leading up to the 'retirement' of a captain or other powerful soul as they finish giving off all the power they can to the Life Machine and enter the reincarnation queue.

The utterly crackheaded "returned to life" science used to bring back Rose, Kensei and Matsumoto during TYBW only worked because a pack of Demons on the other side were MAKING it work.

Mayuri is actually an escapee from Hell that WAS aging drastically fast (he looked 32 when he was 14) because the demons were trying to reign him back in, but he learned just enough about life-force management from his internment in Hell to keep himself alive(ish) and Hale (Kinda).

Most of the souls in Soul Society age normally, and the indicator that you DO have spiritual power is that you 1. Age slower than anticipated and 2. feel EXTREME levels of hunger. (Frankly, nothing about 'souls don't feel hunger' makes sense. It'd be a post-scarity society if that was the case, not feudalism. Nearly all Souls in AEIWAM feel hunger a normal amount, but those who would make good shinigami feel 'I will eat drywall or carrion to stop the cravings' levels of hunger).

One of the things that happens before you become a seated officer in the Gotei-13 is that your captain is supposed to take you aside and explain that the reason an officer's commission pays so well and takes care of so much is that if you take it, you are at DRASTICALLY higher risk of going to Hell when you die. If you become a Lieutenant, it's all but guaranteed. It's not the office that grants it per se- but one you're a seated officer, you WILL be exposed to situations that will make you grow as a person and become a stronger fighter and thus, a more powerful spirit. maybe you'll squeak under the power limbo bar, but understand that that's a risk.

The reason Shinigami can't assign people to at least the same district their relatives are in is that assignment is done by Hell- it's determined by "area of lowest ambient spiritual power in spirit world at the EXACT time you die" and you HAVE to go there. It does help alleviate the pressure in Hell by a significant amount, and if you move districts after arriving in your assigned one it doesn't cause a problem. It's only recently that Soul Security Numbers have been introduced, and your ancestors can opt to put in their address if you want to look them up when you cross over.

Yachiru however, is an unusual case. She's one of the slowest-aging people in Soul Society (aging approximately 1 year for every 50 lived), but it's not the contrivance of Hell. There's actually a lot of Wailing and Gnashing of teeth about Yachiru in Hell, because she's actually got a case of Secondhand Deification from her father, and frankly, Hell doesn't know what it's going to do with either of them.

[dragonzzilla]

Tears of the Kingdom's underwhelming narrative had rich potential

I'll preface this with a confession: I have not played Tears of the Kingdom. As a matter of fact, I haven't played any Legend of Zelda. I simply never had the opportunity while growing up, so my interest in the series has always been satellite. As such, I do not have the perspective of someone who has. My opinions are formulated entirely in what little I have seen or sought out. I'm coming at this with the perspective of an outsider looking in. But I'm not looking for a fight. My aim isn't to bash the new hotness out of jealous spite, or to convince people to feel bad about liking this game that, I've otherwise heard, is really fun. The reason I care, even though I'm not a part of the fandom, is that we all deserved better.

This is a much anticipated sequel to a smash hit from one of the biggest names in the industry, sold at a whopping $70—and having watched for free a YouTube compilation of all the cutscenes pertaining to Ganondorf, the much advertised central antagonist of TOTK, I felt robbed. This was my legitimate reaction:

Disregarding all my other feelings for a moment, I was dumbstruck to see a Nintendo game—released in our year of 2023—use what is essentially the same cutscene four times while explaining the backstory. I recognize TOTK has modular progression, allowing you to reach the Sages in whatever order you please. But once you've seen the first one, the other three will offer you no more valuable information. I'm willing to stretch my suspension of disbelief pretty far, yet even I recognized on first viewing how formulaic the Sage cutscenes are. It wrenched me out of the story.* Hearing different perspectives about the same events can and should be interesting, but the Sages relating these events barely qualify as characters—possessing neither names nor even faces, thanks to their uniform masks of Zonai design...

* I'll acknowledge: Within universe, there is reason enough for the Sages to repeat what is essentially the same story to their respective successors to apprise them of the situation. I can certainly see Link having to sit through the same spiel several times so everyone is on the same page. But it felt really unnecessary as a member of the audience. And unlike their BOTW counterparts, the Four Champions, the Sages don't stick around long enough to endear themselves any further, instead passing their abilities and function onto their successors.

… Which, I feel, represents the Ancient Past Storyline as a whole. Despite the number of bodies involved, no one felt alive. Queen Sonia—this continuity's founding mother of Hyrule, where divine power is explicitly matrilineal—amounts to nothing more than meat for the fridge to motivate the real star of the show, Rauru. Everyone else, including Zelda and the other Sages, are merely bit players in the conflict between him and Ganondorf. But it's a conflict without teeth. Ganondorf displays nothing but a mad, naked lust for power. Opposing him is Rauru, the quintessential Good King and benevolent god figure who would never abuse his power, but would sacrifice it all to seal away the evil invader who killed his beloved martyr-wife. There is no interrogation of the 'gentle' imperialism Rauru represents. His way is textually presented as the only righteous way. The world of this continuity revolves around his legacy and its preservation; anything else is not merely deviant, but indicative of evil. Only someone with the blackest of hearts would oppose this order. The narrative requires Ganondorf to be nothing less than the epitome of evil.

Which is… really disappointing, to say the least. Because I happen to like Ganondorf. His character and his place in the mythos have always been the forefront of my interest in the series; forget Link or Zelda. Naturally, I was drawn in by TOTK's marketing about Ganondorf's return as a human antagonist after a 17 year long hiatus. Given how much of a reinvention BOTW was for the series as a whole, I was disappointed back in 2017 to learn that Ganondorf existed only as a mindless force of primordial evil. "How lame," I thought, "but I guess it's not really Ganondorf." Calamity Ganon was just that: Ganon. And Ganon's always a full-blown monster, divorced from any nuance possessed by his OOT, WW, and TP selves. Then the first teaser for TOTK dropped, placing Ganondorf the man (if a little worse for wear) front and center. Intrigued, I enjoyed the explosion of enthusiastic fan art that followed, as well as the speculation regarding the role he would play. Surely, he would be more than a one-note villain! My expectations rose as Nintendo revealed more about him. His new design didn't immediately scream Dark Lord; and in his first speaking role, he draws attention to the fact that he has returned (within universe and meta-wise) and he has a vision for the world. I couldn't want to see the final product! Yet here we are.

It's a strange thing to fixate upon, when I don't have any skin in this game. But I'm passionate about storytelling. I enjoy rich narratives with nuanced characters, and I respect those that fully commit to the ideas they present... whereas stories that try to have their cake and eat it too, well, those pique my interest as well. Whenever I see untapped potential, my writer's mind cannot help but ponder the age-old question of "What if?" And I intend to do just that, in the cut below (this rant is long enough as it is).

Of course, no amount of brainstorming can change the reality of a product. A ship's structural flaws only become apparent once it's left port, but there's no recalling it then. Nonetheless, there is value in the discussion. We should always critically analyze what corporations give us, desiccating their products to discern the messages (whether intentional or not) contained within—especially when the product is aimed toward a young audience that might not have the cognitive tools to decipher those messages for themselves. Even if we cannot affect change in a monolithic company like Nintendo, we can still draw lessons from their missteps to improve our own writing.

If I have such grievances with TOTK's story, why bother with a rewrite? Because:

Playing within the limits of another's sandbox can help to build creative muscle.

I believe TOTK has all the right ingredients for a compelling story, if this new series wasn't so afraid to challenge its narrative roots the way it has its gameplay.

A few more things to note: I am not a professional writer, nor am I a veteran of the series. I'm working strictly with what TOTK brings to the table. I'll make no efforts to reconcile the continuity errors between BOTW and TOTK (though it deserves mentioning), or even attempt to fit this in a single cohesive timeline with the rest of the franchise. I am not that brave lol. What I propose below is simply how I would use these toys; YMMV. I hope this inspires discussion more so than congratulation or wordless agreement (though my ego will accept compliments all the same, especially since it took no small amount of spoons to organize my thoughts like this). As Ganondorf says:

A Modest Rewrite of TOTK's Ancient Past Storyline

Zelda is still flung to the past, but she awakens not to a picturesque golden age under the magnanimous rule of an infallible demigod. Instead, sadly reminiscent of her own age, the land lays in ruin, in the immediate aftermath of its own calamity. But this isn't the fault of Ganon. The blame lies solely with the Zonai.

The Zonai were understandably viewed as gods. A people who live up in the sky on floating islands, in possession of miraculous technology (including killer robots to protect their interests!), and magical artifacts that in the wrong hands can unleash cataclysmic power? A civilization as powerful as theirs doesn't suddenly end without a very good reason. Yet as far as I know, no explanation is provided as to why Rauru and Mineru are seemingly the last of the Zonai. No mention is made of a rival power that could've taken them down; certainly none of the terrestrial races. Remember, the Zonai were seen as gods. If you were to ask me? A civilization with that great of a power at their disposal, and apparently so much of it that Rauru has four more Stones (not including his own, Sonia's, or Mineru's) to pass out as he sees fit... can only destroy itself.*

* I know the Zonai are depicted in text as a purely enlightened and benevolent race... but as far back in the franchise as OOT (which TOTK draws a lot from), not even Hyrule—the standard by which all civilization in LOZ is judged—was above a civil war, orphaning Link. War Within LOZ clearly isn't waged solely against primal forces of evil that can, must, and should be destroyed. And that's good! A story is made richer when even the Designated Good Guys can fuck things up, when characters are allowed to contain multitudes—good and bad qualities!

Power does not defuse conflict. It only escalates the scope of destruction once it's unleashed. So, for whatever reasons the Zonai gave themselves then clung to, they started fighting each other. Using their flying machines and automatons, battles were fought upon and between their sky islands, the detritus of war raining down on the lands below—the inhabitants of which can do nothing but watch as a war rages in heaven—until finally the full power of the Stones is unleashed in an exchange that guarantees mutual destruction. The sky islands all plummet to the earth, wreaking mass destruction. This is the world Zelda finds herself in—where the land has been cracked wide open, the skies are choked with dust, and no one gets along... so unlike the world she knows.

Zelda still comes into the care of Rauru and Sonia, but Rauru is merely Sonia's consort—he holds no power as king. It's evident from the start that Sonia is steering the direction of Hyrule—a humble territory in this age—in this tumultuous time, although Rauru is backing her. It's thanks to Sonia that Rauru and Mineru survived the fall of their sky island, brought back from the brink of death. It was during this time that Rauru fell in love with her; and to repay her, Rauru revealed that, between himself and Mineru, they have three intact Stones (a small homage to the Triforce since it doesn't matter in this continuity) with which they can secure Hyrule's place in this brave new world. Importantly, this isn't portrayed as any more righteous than a nation acquiring a clear advantage over its rivals. Indeed, Zelda's thrown for a loop to learn that in this era, the other races like the Gorons and the Zora aren't merely independent from Hyrule but have a history of conflict—something she never learned in her history books. And tensions are only rising, as these rival nations find Stones of their own after much scavenging, shifting an already fraught balance of power. The gods are dead, their empire shattered—yet slivers of their strength remain, for those daring enough to claim them. By using one of these Stones, a tribe could secure its borders, reclaim ancestral land... or conquer new territory. This is where Ganondorf enters the picture.

This Ganondorf is still a villain, but there's room for nuance. He's ruthless and prideful, and certainly antagonistic toward Hyrule; but the narrative respects him as much as his fellow monarchs. He cares about the success of his people, because his entire identity is shaped around being their king. Remember that a male is born to the Gerudo only once in a hundred years. Ganondorf is but the latest in a lineage of kings, with the heavy burden of expectation that carries—he has a legacy to uphold or surpass if he can help it. And ever since he was a boy, he envied the easy lives and green lands of Hyrule, so as a man he has made it his personal ambition to conquer it... but at every turn, he has met his match in Sonia, who is every bit as skilled of a commander and a magician. The two of them have clashed so many times that they've become the most intimate of enemies, hard pressed to hate each other because they both know what's at stake. For years, they've been evenly matched... but the downfall of the Zonai changed everything. In spite of the Gerudo's best efforts, they haven't been able to find a single Stone to make up for the fact that the crash of their local sky islands kicked up terrible sandstorms and drove monsters from their usual habitats. The Gerudo are more desperate than ever. Then Ganondorf learns that his oldest enemy is housing two living Zonai underneath her roof, and has a total of four Stones at her disposal. He cannot battle Hyrule as before, lest he risk annihilation—if not by Sonia's hands, then another tribe that is more willing to coup de grâce a decimated competitor, or they might perish to monsters, or the desert might finally claim them, the dunes swallowing up their bones and burying their accomplishments. He could bend the knee—throw himself at Sonia's feet and hope for the best, sacrificing Gerudo independence to share in Hyrule's bounty. But his pride will never allow that.

He grew up in the shadow of detached gods, was raised on tales of how they were the ultimate arbiters of truth and value—almighty in their judgment and unassailable—and he saw for himself that they would only ever come down to earth to indulge their curiosity about the quaint groundfolk or harvest what their sky islands could not provide, most notably Zonaite (of course they named it after themselves...) to fuel their miraculous machines, the secrets of which they refused to share with anyone 'because they weren't ready' and would in fact use those same machines to keep the groundfolk from overreaching. Ganondorf is the first king in generations to glimpse a sky—and a future—uncontrolled by the Zonai. Though he was raised to be a king, the very definition of absolute power and privilege, only now is he truly beholden to no one. Finally, he is free to shape his own destiny. And he's not about to relinquish that freedom on account of his dearest enemy getting in bed with a fallen demigod—no, not a god... the Zonai's civil war proved they are not infallible. Without their technology, without their precious Stones, they're flesh and blood, the same as anyone else. Mortal. And what is a man to a king?

Despite the bad blood between them, and the generations of strife between their peoples, Ganondorf is able to convince Sonia that he is willing to bury the hatchet for the sake of his people, that his desire to enter the protective embrace of her kingdom, given the dangerous new world they find themselves in, is genuine. His true intentions are not so painfully transparent, but still Zelda does not trust him. She can't stop wondering how this man becomes the source of the Gloom in her era, even if the hateful creature she encountered in the depths below Hyrule Castle hardly seemed human at all. But she cannot act on a suspicion of duplicity due to future events. So for Ganondorf's entire stint in Sonia's court, Zelda tries to weasel out the truth—and in so doing, builds a relationship with the future Demon King. Once Ganondorf catches on to the fact that Zelda sees right through him, it becomes a game of 4D chess. Who is this girl, a member of Sonia's court that he has never heard before yet is trusted enough to bear a Stone, and why is she so certain of his true motives? He's smart enough to suss out that it isn't simple bigotry. It's a fine line Zelda must walk, because she has a secret of her own—she hasn't told anyone that she's from the future, out of a rational fear of disrupting the past and changing history (but at the same time, she can't abide doing nothing, and these interests war within her).

Despite Zelda's best efforts, Ganondorf succeeds in his plot. In a single stroke, he eliminates an old enemy, deprives her nation of its leader and a Stone, and finally secures a Stone for the Gerudo. But claiming the Stone doesn't immediately transform him into an Almighty Demon King. The surge of power is great, but not so much that he's willing to engage three other Stone bearers—two of which are Zonai who of course have experience using them—so he wisely retreats, though not before telling Rauru: "No point in crying over this one. She's not the first victim of your arrogance. And we both know she won't be the last." He's made powerful enemies, but it's a battle he can fight on another day, and at least now he's on equal footing with the other factions and can take their Stones until he can finally conquer Hyrule. But Ganondorf severely underestimates the lengths Rauru will go for revenge. In killing Sonia, before Rauru's very eyes no less, he has made another enemy for life (and beyond).

Understand that Rauru survived the destruction of his people and their way of life. That's traumatic enough. But now, the person who saved his life, and gave it new meaning, is dead. Murdered. By someone he had come to trust. Because he put a target around her neck. He should have seen this coming, he should have listened to Zelda, perhaps then he could have stopped this. But it's far too late now. Before, he was content to merely support and serve—a just penance, he believed, for his small part in breaking the world. Now, he has a new purpose: To secure Sonia's legacy by any means necessary. He binds his fate to Hyrule, which will never be safe so long as Ganondorf lives. This isn't a wise and beneficent King of Light opposing a terrible darkness, but a grieving widower—who's also a skyborn demigod that just lost his one earthly tie.

After taking command as regent, Rauru does not invite the other races to a grand alliance; he brings them to heel through force. It's not enough for Rauru to immediately counterattack Ganondorf. He wants to destroy him, and what better way than to turn the whole world against him? Additionally, by consolidating the power of the Stones onto his side, he denies Ganondorf the opportunity to pick them off one by one. Zelda is witnessing history, the birth of Hyrule as she knows it, but there's nothing noble about it. It's simple imperialism, and she has to grapple with the fact that she's a beneficiary of it. If the peoples of Hyrule were united through bloodshed, does this invalidate the friendships she's made among those peoples in her present? She's confronted with deep questions which possess no easy answers.

Meanwhile, Ganondorf hasn't been sitting on his laurels. He sees Rauru is stacking the deck against him, such that even the Stone's power won't be enough to win the coming war. The Gerudo are outnumbered and outgunned. So Ganondorf turns to darker magics, begins to press monsters into service, etc. His search for ever greater power takes him into the Depths, where he finds a dangerous substance called Gloom. According to legend, it is the ichor of a demon god who was struck down long ago and sealed away in the bowels of the earth. It drains the life-force of whoever touches it, that much is certain... but Ganondorf reckons it is possible to access this stolen vitality to perform feats of magic hitherto thought impossible. Through his mastery of dark magic, amplified by the Stone, he is able to harness the Gloom. First he tests it upon monsters... then dissidents, those reluctant to oppose Rauru's growing army. He makes examples of them, siphoning away their life-force to show those who will not fight will still serve their king. But this barbarous act only creates more dissent among the Gerudo. Tradition appointed Ganondorf as king, but that doesn't mean they have to stomach his tyranny. Even if he manages to win this war, this new power could allow him to reign forever, and he just demonstrated how little their individual lives mean to him. Worried for the future of their people, Ganondorf's second-in-command, Nabooru, sells him out in exchange for clemency, enabling Rauru and his Sages to capture him. Instead of slaying him on the spot, Rauru declares his intention to haul him back to Hyrule for a public execution in Sonia's name. Nabooru insists on coming along; if the King of the Gerudo is to die on foreign soil, then one of his own should observe his passing.

Ganondorf doesn't respond well to this betrayal. After everything he sacrificed, they would still rather roll over and show their bellies—surrender their freedom and pride—to a foreign lord. Who are these people, to abandon the courage of their ancestors? These are not his Gerudo. Ganondorf disowns them, swearing vengeance upon these cowards even as he is taken away in chains. The journey back to Hyrule gives him time to brood on his destiny. He was born to be a king, yet the place of his birth has forsaken him while the rest of the world wants him dead. Most people would crumble, succumb to despair. But his pride will never allow that. He will keep fighting, like he always has. He will crush any opposition, even if it's the people who gave him birth. He will rule, even if he must reign as king of the undesired. There's a saying: 'The brighter the light, the deeper the shadow.' And Rauru has blazed oh so fiercely. To oppose him, Ganondorf must become nothing less than the King of Shadow.

At the moment of his execution, he draws upon the Gloom to transcend his mortal limits, finally becoming the Demon King. In this form, he's able to battle all seven of the Sages, but he's still not almighty. In theory, Rauru is able to slay him... but he chooses not to. Imprisoning Ganondorf isn't done as a last resort; Rauru wants him to suffer. "Killing you would be far too kind. I will make you wish you could die. You won't. I will hold you here. We will build our kingdom over the lands you tried to burn and pillage. And you will rot here, trapped in this moment, long after you have faded from its memory." And he sincerely believes that he'll be able to contain Ganondorf for all time—because he was able to ascertain that Zelda is from the future, after examining her Stone (his Stone, as it turns out) and piecing together her strange accent and unusual notions, even though she has the pointed ears of a Hylian. He doesn't understand the power, but he does take it as proof positive that his victory is guaranteed and Hyrule exists well into the future... without ever learning the whole truth of it. Rauru is directly responsible for the cycle of Calamity Ganon, as Ganondorf's resent and hatred transformed the Gloom into Malice.

Rauru's pride is an actual flaw, one that is fully explored in the modern day. Just like Ganondorf says, thousands of years passed in the blink of an eye; Rauru hasn't had any time to process his rage. He only saves Link to make him a vehicle for his revenge; sticking around past the tutorial as Link's spectral companion, constantly pushing him to ignore all distractions to destroy Ganondorf ASAP, yet unable to control him directly. In staying with Link, Rauru learns of his legacy; that he created a lasting kingdom, but harmed future generations by inadvertently creating Calamity Ganon—Ganondorf's disembodied anguish and hate, nursed over thousands of years. His selfish decisions created more harm than Ganondorf could have in a single lifetime. Just as the Zonai destroyed the world once before, Rauru managed to destroy it again and again. Hyrule no longer even exists as a kingdom, destroyed by Calamity Ganon 100 years prior. Yet Link continues to fight—not for himself, but to protect and help those he cares about as well as perfect strangers. Rauru gives a touch of the divine to Link, and in return Link reintroduces Rauru to humanity.

In contrast: Ganondorf broods in the Depths, alone. Although he still has a corporeal form, he's just as much of a ghost as Rauru is. He's more isolated than ever, having awakened to a strange world where nothing is as he remembers it. The geography is different, the flora and fauna is different, the people are different. Especially the Gerudo. They don't remember him as ever having been a person at all, believing the monster of their legends merely adopted the form of a Gerudo. But that doesn't sting as much as how tame they've become in his absence. These Gerudo have no fangs; they're fully in bed with Hyrule in every sense of the word, and it disgusts him. Nothing in this world is right. Everyone has forgotten their pride and their history; no one remembers a time when Hyrule wasn't be-all and end-all. Unable to accept this future, he terraforms Hyrule in the image of what it used to be, so it might become a crucible once more. The strong will adapt and survive, while the weak rightfully perish. He will create a world that rewards might and daring above all else.

Ganondorf is none too pleased to learn Link is running around with the arm of the man who sealed him for millennia, and assumes that he has become Rauru's puppet (even more hand symbolism)... but that's a key difference between Ganondorf and Rauru. Link essentially drags Rauru through character development, rekindling a sense of humanity within him. Ganondorf has no one to break him out of his rut. His only company down in the Depths are monsters and the Yiga Clan, who revere him as the source of Calamity Ganon—for his power and opposition of Hyrulian supremacy—but do not see him as person, a king in need of counsel. Ganondorf is more alone than ever, but he refuses to address this. To despair is to admit that the world has power over you, and he is the single strongest being in the world. Gods do not weep. And in that final confrontation, Rauru addresses Ganondorf: They're both ghosts of the past, stubbornly trying to shape the future to their liking; but the present belongs to the living. They both need to let go. But Ganondorf's pride will never allow that. To admit defeat is to admit someone has power over him, and he cannot allow it. It becomes clear to him that the only option left to him is to not play at all.

He swallows his Stone and becomes a dragon, but this doesn't lead to another boss fight (to compensate, the third phase would be a more classical Ganon fight; a friend suggested the name of "Scourge of Hyrule—Apocalypse Ganon"). Instead, in line with what was established earlier—that to become a dragon is to lose yourself to the process—Ganondorf ascends to the sky... and bears no more malice toward Link or Hyrule. He becomes the ultimate in power—immortal and at last truly divine—at the cost of his ego. He's still dangerous since he radiates Gloom, but he doesn't attack, just like the other dragons: an idiot god. He returns to the Depths out of instinctual comfort, but will occasionally surface and usher in a Blood Moon. And like the other dragons, you can harvest rare materials from him to make the best Gloom weapons or whatever. + Leaving Ganondorf in this state leaves a door open for fanatics to try and restore him in a sequel.

So, that's all I got

There's a lot of things I didn't address. Like whether the line of succession was broken with Sonia's death (so is Zelda descended from a relative of hers?), what sort of characters the Sages should be, or what Zelda does after Ganondorf is sealed away by Rauru (I'm personally not comfortable with her waltzing up to the Sages and in a stable time loop binding all the races to Hyrule), how weird the Draconification plot point is (and how Zelda is restored to her human form by Good Ending ghost magic), how Zelda is restored in this version (sequel hook same with Ganon?), how disconnected I feel Link is to the Ancient Past storyline as a whole, whether my version of Ganondorf actually ever learned about him, I didn't really dive into the aforementioned imperialist message in TOTK (others have already done so better than I), etc. Thing is, I'm not a professional writer. I do it for the love of it, and that's what this is. A messy labor of misplaced love for a franchise I've never played, all because I was upset they didn't treat my blorbo the way I like. You know how it goes. My brain didn't know when to let go, but at least now it's out there and not rattling around solely in my noggin, making an awful racket. Maybe now I can work on other things. If you've made it this far, cheers.

[inbetweenhours]

Because I am obsessed with this one line from Battle Cries by The Amazing Devil and will continue to reuse it in artwork I of course had this though for using it in comparison to the twins of Rivendell, Scott and Xornoth. As I though more about the piece it evolved into a study of the cycle of corruption and hate between brothers within Rivendell’s leadership. This fight that was born in Rivendells foundation and which died only with the kingdom itself.

Doing this I managed to put a lot more thought into my actual ideas about how the majorly slumbering pantheon that the Stag Gods herald from operates its history especially. I revisited my concepts of Alinar and Cohnel, and I made sure to keep in mind the key differences in all the brothers relationships, as well as how the corruption and championship affected them. 

Below the cut im gonna ramble about the lore both canon and MOSTLY my won fanon that provides background to this piece and how it came together in my head :]

I am going to go through each set of brothers and describe their history. From their conception, to their finality, in the context of being a pair. 

The Stag Gods are unique in their conception. For the sake of ages they are affectively twins. The pantheon they hail from was born in the time after the titans fell. As Pixlriffs describes in his opening to season 2, mighty titans once roamed the earn and when they fell their bodies became the lands that empires now rise and fall on today.  The era of gods that Exor and Aeor were conceptualized in were some of the first creatures to evolve to inhabit the lands that these titans bodies became. The first stags, the first serpents, the first flora. The first seasons, of winter, to spring, and summer. Wilderness was born and from it rose divinity in its first era. That of the Stag gods.

When Aeor and Exor were young fawns they were nothing more than animal. Young and reckless, exploratory as they took on their responsibilities. Bringing order and chaos, winter and summer. A cycle  ever chasing one another. They were so different, but they were brothers. They could not be without the other, as is their cyclical nature.

They are affectively the same age. And they grew up in a time where they and the other gods were the only sentient life around. They are neither benevolent nor malevolent gods. No deity is, because those are mortal terms. Their understanding of mortality is comparable to human understanding of ants. They work, and they have built great things have systems. But everything looks so simple from the gods view. 

The gods take care of mortality in the same way a man may take care of his dog. The dog is loyal and loved and cared for, but it is still only a dog. When the corruption first rose it ugly red shades across the land the gods grew weary. It threatened their precious pets, destroying mortalities hard work and making them ill and crazed. So the pantheon banded together and supposedly defeated The Corruption. It took the full strength of most, and so most of the pantheon fell into slumber. The Stag Gods among the few who continued to stand.

The brother stags founded Rivendell high in the mountains, a place to protect and watch over the mortals they personally  had found preference in, the elven civilization. For a long time the elves worshiped both stags, but as time went on a preference for Aeor and his orderly ways grew. Exor grew jealous, and emboldened by the last remnant of The Corruption which has laid in wait for it time to rise again, he acted out. And as more and more conflict grew between the brother stags, the corruption took its hold in Exor, turning him cruel and greedy, and in turn twisting up all the gods followers as well.

We all know how this story ends. Aeor and his brother fight, divided finally, futile, by The Corruption, and Exor alongside his followers are banished to the mountain peaks to waste away in the caves.

Alinar and Cohnel are the next of the brothers. They are third generation Rivendells citizens. Alinar is older than Cohnel, by some years. They come from a comfortable family, nothing so noble, as the country  flourishes around them. They play together in the streets, Alinar leaning Cohnel by the hand too keep him from running off. The play in the snow and as thy grow older  dare to hike further and further into snowy peaks. Till one day they would discover the ruins of where Exors fanatics were one sealed away. 

Alinar would urge them to leave, taking Cohnel home. Enough warning in old tales told as bedtime stories enough to ward him away. But not Cohnel. Ever cursed with youthful curiosity he would return alone. And he would not be seem for many months. Declared missing Alinar would mourn, grow, and push himself to help others where he could not his brother. He would join the council leading Rivendell, where he would be in a position to see the rampant increase of missing persons. The unease and fear it drew throughout their kingdom.

And  under oath to protect the people Alinar would set out, meet his brother again on the battlefield. Now corrupted from his once boyish youth Cohnel is nothing of the baby brother Alinar once guided. Still, the boy has their mothers nose, and the same eyes. Alinar is weak in one moment and decides he cannot kill his baby brother. But he is a member of the council and a hero of the people. Aeor gives him help, guides him as his champion and  brings him to the conclusion of a banishment spell. So he does just that, never to see his brother again, and goes on to become the champion of Rivendell. Heralded as its first king.

The final set of brothers are best known I presume. Scott and Xornoth, twins of Rivendells monarchy. Xornoth is older, and that is important to me as I often debate giving them a real age gap but I will stick with the twins lore for now. Descendants of Alinar. As members of the monarchy these brothers lives are different to the others. They found more solace in one another as refuge from responsibility and ridicule from their parents. 

Both princes grew well educated, and with that they knew even more of their history than perhaps the general public were privy. Their ancestry, and that of the gods more available. Both were devout in their academics and their religion, as they were brought up to be. However a key difference was Xornoths ability to push boundaries, push questions. Always a thirst for more, more more- especially in the way of knowledge. They drudged up arguments with mere curiosity and while Scott entertained his brothers thoughts, he was much more well behaved. Not risking mentors or parents good temperament for answers when he could easily keep his mouth shut. 

Still, he encouraged Xornoth’s curiosity, even as it grew more fascinated with more forbidden insight. More curious to Exors scorned history. With so much historical documentation of devotion to Exor destroyed out of fear a long, long time ago Xornoth only grew more despertaly curious. And when they found note of old banished groups of ollowers in the mountains he pleaded with Scott for a coverup. 

Scott allowed it, the two sneaking away and Xornoth returning with an ancient tomb. Obsessive was what Xornoth was turning into, red glint in their sharp eyes growing more by the day till finally  something gave. Where there was once passive irritation and distain Xornoth grew quick to anger and  violence. Till finally the ysnapped, and in a late, fitful arguement with their parents they killed them both.

Scott had not an idea what happened. Not until he awoke the next morning to maids screams. His parents dead, and his brother gone- nothing more than a banishment sigil burned into their bedroom floor as indication to where they had went. Scott would be coronated, and with his kingship he only became more devout to Aeor. 

Scott believed his brother dead, and moved on for over a decade till the events of season one as we know it. Xornoths return, the understanding of what had happened to them. Being championed, and capturing his brother. Hoping dearly to find a way to undo Exors influence. Till finally out of time the two battle on Rivendell peaks, overrun with corruption.

Scott decides to be selfless, killing himself on the rune blade. and As he bleeds out Aeors presence withdrawals from him. As Aeor withdrawals, so does Exor. Until it is only Scott, delirious with bloodloss and pain. Until it is only Xornoth, finally in their right mind after decades of corruption and divinity puppeteering them. And they see their little brother, and know they had failed to protect him from themselves when they ran away. There is nothing left to be done as Xornoth moves to hold Scott in their last moments. Offering the smallest comfort as death takes them both by virtue of their connection.

The cycle of brother, loved and corrupted, which started in the seeds of their kingdoms foundation and that has withered with its end. It is all finally over.