#woe gods upon thee | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

my-insanity-is-an-artform · 5 months

Text

Woe, Crack Baby Shitten au be upon thee.

(@bamsara 's little doodle of Nari being dubbed Cult Babysitter and holding a little lamb irrevocably changed my brain chemistry. So of course, I'm now making it everyone else's problem with the headcanon that Narinder is good with children of all ages.)

A couple of months before Lamb gets captured, they meet another lamb or a very small flock that have to split up very quickly after meeting since there's more chance of the lamb species surviving if they aren't all together. In the meeting, Lamb agrees to try continue the lamb species and gets pregnant via *magic* or afab.

Of course, all of the lambs are captured and killed with Lamb being the last, still a few months away from giving birth.

But then they are chosen and resurrected by The One Who Waits.

Fun fact: a fetus can survive for a few minutes after the death of the carrier. (Also this is a world with magic and gods in it. Logic means nothing to me.)

Lamb starts their cult, crusades across the lands and meets all sorts of allies and enemies. All while quietly mourning their entire species and the child that never would be.

Right up until they go into labour.

The baby is lamb through and through with soft wool, wide eyes, tiny cloven hooves and floppy ears.

But the influence of the crown is blazingly obvious since the baby's wool is jet black and they have three red eyes.

I can't tell which would be funnier. Lamb giving birth in The Lonely Shack or while they are physically in The Gateway just post-beating Leshy. Like they were in active labour right throughout fighting Leshy and had no idea. Either way, it's Shocked Pikachu .jpeg all around. (My fucking KINGDOM for a doodle of this.)

Various dot point shenanigans under the cut

There are two ways to go about this. But either way, Baby is not staying in the Cult. Too dangerous, especially if word gets to the Bishops about there being another lamb. So Lamb can and will speed-run this shit. So it takes them about 4-6 years to fully defeat the Bishops.

Baby stays with Ratau:

Lamb goes and yells at TOWW. They are panicking because they have no idea how to raise a probably-half-god baby.

Narinder has no idea what happened right up until Lamb comes in screaming about him being a Baby Daddy and child support.

Ratau is Grandpa now. This is his fate. He embraces the Grandpa life.

Baby learns how to play knucklebones before they can speak.

Shrumy tries to wager with Lamb/Ratau for the whole Baby. Once and only Once.

Baby's first word is dice. Or die.

Baby worships TOWW, but they are a Baby and don't really comprehend worship so the small shrine gets a lot of flowers, neat rocks and some drawings. Narinder always gives a lot of gold for them. And No, it's not favouritism. Shut up.

Baby knows curses. This is concerning for everyone except Baby.

Baby gets a little TOWW doll. It's their favourite, it goes everywhere with them and washing it is a nightmare for everyone involved.

Baby is jokingly referred to as TOWW's most Devoted Follower because of the doll.

↑ this action will have consequences.

When Baby is not so baby, they make stuff out of their wool for TOWW and for his disciples. Or asks their parent to help them make stuff.

Cue Lamb awkwardly giving the three some very wonky scarves or hats.

Baal loves it.

Aym refuses to take his off. Ever.

Narinder is actually upset cause his doesn't fit. He's too big. He had to wear it like a little ring.

Or Baby stays/is brought to the Gateway ala Aym and Baal situation:

If Lamb gives birth in the Gateway, everyone is getting a free midwifery education and free trauma. The cats want a refund.

Ya know when a baby instinctively clasps their little hand around a finger and it's like a crime to pull away? That but with Narinder's big ass claw that Baby can only barely cling to.

Aym cries the first time he holds Baby.

Baal straight-up refuses to give Baby back for a good hour.

Lamb visits at least once a day.

Lamb also brings baby things since a baby will do what a baby will do.

Depending on how old Aym and Baal were when they were gifted, Narinder is either learning all of this for the first time or is reminded of how challenging baby care can be.

Narinder purrs = a zonked Baby.

Baby's first word is Vessel.

Baby is taught to fight. Lamb doesn't like it but accepts it.

Baby has a little lamb doll. It is only due to the fact the afterlife doesn't have dirt that they avoid the nightmare of trying to wash it.

Baby is jokingly referred to as TOWW's most Devoted Follower since they refuse to be parted with him for long.

↑ this action will have consequences.

Lamb teaches Baby about being a lamb and if Aym and Baal join in, well who are they to deny their child's only friends/guardians this?

Narinder and Lamb figure out how to get Baby to teleport to the Living World and Baby gets to visit Grandpa Ratau.

Post-game shenanigans.

Narinder: Give me back my crown. Lamb: Ok. Sure. Narinder: I will now sacrifice my most devoted follower (the Lamb) for my freedom. Lamb: *Kill Bill sirens*

Lamb somehow doesn't kill Aym and Baal and instead kidnaps them via Indoctrination Circle out of spite/ reluctance to hurt them.

Narinder feels betrayed that the Lamb would refuse like this and kidnap his acolytes. He was going to resurrect them! He can't fully commit to raising a child while being the God of Death.

Lamb feels betrayed that Narinder would want to kill their child. After all they've been through together! After the way they saw him treat Baby with such gentleness and now he wants to kill them?!

This comes out in the very final moments right before Lamb goes to give the final blow.

Narinder: You are a vengeful false idol and a traitor! Lamb: At least I'm not a monster who wanted to kill my own child! Narinder: Wait. What.

This devolves into a massive argument with divorced-couple vibes.

Narinder is insulted and a bit hurt they thought he would kill his own child.

Lamb is hurt that Narinder would just demand their sacrifice without even talking to them about the whole situation.

Either way the lesson learned is Narinder needs to be more blunt and Lamb needs to not jump to conclusions.

So they are left with a newly usurped Narinder and a newly crowned Lamb. Oops.

Baby is with Ratau when all of this is going down.

Baby is happy their family is all together properly. Baby is Not Happy about this whole cult thing demanding attention from Their Baba.

The Cult is baffled by the sight of their leader with both a baby and a Spouse? Bitterly Divorced Ex? Estranged Co-parent?! What ever it is, most of them have elected not to touch the whole situation with a 10ft barge pole.

Baby learns what the word Father is and how that word refers to Narinder.

Baby calls Narinder Father/Papa/Daddy. Instant KO.

Narinder somehow gains a small hoard of children that like to follow him. Baby Does Not Approve.

Baby also Does Not Approve of this newly formed rift between their parents.

Cue Parent Trap level of Shenanigans.

Aym and Baal are recruited.

The Hoard of Children are recruited. Baby now Slightly Approves.

Narinder and Lamb have an Actual Conversation after the 18th time they get locked in the confessional together.

This of course evolves into Narilamb.

Bishops are saved from purgatory.

Despite all attempts otherwise, Baby is introduced to them.

Shocked Pikachu .jpeg x4

Maybe after a few more years, not-so-baby Baby wants a sibling.

This got so much longer than I thought but yes. Shitten Shenanigans: Accidental Child Acquisition flavoured.

#cult of the lamb #cotl #Shitten Shenanigans Au #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #narilamb #true devotion #Cotl Aym #Cotl Baal #Cotl Ratau #accidental child acquisition #at least on Narinder's part #long post #I once again do not go here #this got longer than I thought it would #Bam's brain is SO wrinkled and I want to lick it

158 notes · View notes

plumadot · 4 months

Note

it is me I have arrived

woe upon thee

“Thank you, thank you! Folks, isn’t it wonderful to be here tonight?” The bard spread his arms wide, a massive grin on his face. Grian noted vaguely that there were scars lining his skin, the most visible one being a slit across his nose. Had this bard been getting into fights?

“Now, I would be a terrible entertainer if I didn't introduce myself.” He continued. “My name is Scar Thymes, from the forests near Dogwarts. I won't be so bold as to ask you to toss a coin just yet, seeing as I've only sung you one song. So how about another?”

The patrons whooped and cheered and grabbed more beer, and the music kicking back into full force as they launched into the next song. Grian narrowly avoided an elbow to the face as the patrons began to jostle each other and bounce up and down. He bit back a retort, reminding himself of his mission. He did snatch their money purse as retaliation though.

It was easy, he just had to follow their movements, twisting with them and slipping his fingers under their belt. He lifted it ever so slightly, and the pouch fell from its hold around it, straight into his outstretched hand. He caught it nimbly, careful not to jostle it more than necessary so that the coins within wouldn’t rattle. He couldn’t have his target notice that their purse was gone now, could he?

He collected a few more purses as he moved through the crowd, tucking them under his robe as the bard sang song after song and the patrons grew drunker and drunker. It was as he was grabbing his last bag of the night that he happened to have up and see the bard staring directly at him. He was still mid chorus, the crowd singing rambunctiously along with them, but there was a gleam in his eyes that told Grian that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Grian met his gaze defiantly, pocketing the pouch while not breaking eye contact. He wasn't scared of some random bard in a tavern, and he wasn't going to show any fear. So he caught him stealing, what was he going to do about it? End his song early and call him out? He still hadn’t gotten paid more than a few small coins for his songs. The grin on the bard’s face grew ever so slightly as they locked eyes, and there was a newly animated air to his movements as he pushed forward into the next verse of his song.

The atmosphere in the tavern seemed to shimmer as the music slowed down slightly, and the bard’s singing became slightly more lyrical. Grian felt the magical compulsion immediately, and he dug his nails into his palm to keep himself from falling under it as the bard seemed to glow radiantly in the dim lantern light of the tavern. His hair, long and pulled back in a ponytail, seemed impossible soft and silky, his cheekbones and jaw were perfectly shaped, his eyes practically glowed green. His song floated over the crowd, his voice smooth and soft and full of emotion. Every eye was on him now, and for good reason. He was beautiful.

Grian’s nails cut his palms, and he shook his head aggressively, shaking off the compulsion to stop and stare, to devote all of his attention to him and him alone. The bard raised an eyebrow at him, a perfectly arched eyebrow that balanced with the rest of his features to make him look closer to a god than anything else. He glared back. The eye contact seemed to make the spell stronger, far stronger than Grian would have thought possible from an ordinary bard, and anxiety clawed at his throat as he began to wonder if he had made an enemy in this tavern.

Then the spell snapped, the music rushed forward into a fast pace again, and the crowd broke into raucous applause that contrasted with the bard’s singing only moments before. The bard winked at him, as if they had shared some kind of secret between the two of them, then broke their eye contact to cheer alongside the crowd. Grian breathed out a long sigh, then turned away from the bar. He paused at the door to look back at the bard, and he felt his feathers rise as he saw him looking directly at him. He didn’t waste any more time, and with a flash, he slipped outside and into the night.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA FIRST MEETINGS FIRST MEETINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

strangers to enemies gkjfkdgj i love it i love it. a little bit of a charm person spell hmm hmm you don't need that, scar, you're already magical!!!!!!!!!! even the bird knows it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and ahhh grian is just the right amount of rogue/warlock hehehe perfect

this is so cute i love it so much gkfjdkg thank you for this gift!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3 <3 <3

#ask #plume dnd au #so everyone may see it hehe

76 notes · View notes

snowed-leopard · 2 months

Text

Said to a friend a couple weeks ago “Consider: Demoman in one of those sparkly nightgowns” because I love rendering flowy transparent fabrics. This has been stewing since and due to the sheer amount of well. Sheer fabrics I had to render, it took a little. (It’s 0230 send help). Demo is honestly so god damn pretty, and I think more people need to draw him. Also I’m sorry for my failings to render his skin tone in the past, I’m always trying to improve my skin rendering, esp dark tones.

In other words:

WOE BETIDE THEE! DEMOMAN BE UPON ALL YE BLESSED SOULS!

My hands are killing me there’s a no gown version below this I’m going to bed GOODNIGHT also! odd feathers chap 3 in maybe prolly a week and a half to 2 weeks idk

go give him a hug he’s cold.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 demoman #demoman tf2 #demo tf2 #tf2 demo

45 notes · View notes

thrashkink-coven · 2 months

Text

Ritual Report 2024-07-30

I had the opportunity to meditate on Attar Lucifer for the first time this morning and witness his energy in it’s more warlike, rebel archetype. The ritual took place in the bath, I first lit my candles and smoke cleansed the room with dragon's blood incense. I then drew Lucifer's sigil on the wall of my shower with ink. I then said the Invocation aloud 3 times.

Invocation of Attar Lucifer:

“Attar Lucifer, radiant and bright I, Shi, call to thee

I invoke your presence here this morning

I invite you to attend my vessel

Father of rebels, Lord of the Underworld

God of love, of sex and pride

Attend my sacred space,

Illuminate it with your light

Attar Lucifer, I call to thee once more

Bestow your blessing of love upon me,

help me to feel your presence,

and heal my wounds,

I invoke your presence here and now.

As my magic is made

Be here in this, your temple!

For your loyal devotee stands before you,

ready and willing to honour you

Oh, great God, be near me now

Illuminate this space, for it is ours

So Blessed Be

So it is Done.”

While mediating I listened to Lucifer's infernal enn in a video which repeats his enn 81 times. I listened to this 2 or 3 times before switching to a song called Ashtar by Horizons Interrieurs before finally switching to Lucifer's enn by Carl Sparticus, I believe I listened tp this 6 times, I fell into trance while listening to it.

When I found myself on the other side, I was in a very dark and smoky place. I did not know where I was exactly, but I knew that the place I was in was very ancient, very dangerous, and very primal. Perhaps a time when humanity was only just starting to establish itself. I never felt like I was truly in danger, as I was wearing my Venus talisman and knew I was protected. But I still felt very much like prey being stocked by an unknown predator. I was vulnerable, ignorant and exposed. I felt as though, at any moment I could be killed. I felt as though I needed to hide, and found myself crouching low to the ground to avoid being noticed. Death and Disease were King in this place. I immediately understood that the world that Attar Lucifer was a part of was very old and very different, with different laws and different authorities, a world almost unrecognizable from the world I live in now. I understood that Attar is very old and has been doing this for a very long time.

In the darkness and smoke I could hear a whistle. It began to get louder as if the person blowing it was approaching me. Soon I saw lights emerging from the darkness. One light brighter than the others, emerged as the leader. He dawned a red flag and a torch, and lead a collective of spirits through the darkness atop a golden chariot. His eyes, red and bold like flames, burned into me intensely, though never offensively. It was immediately clear to me that this is a face of Lucifer that is often kept hidden from me.

Lucifer's energy usually feels very airy and smooth to me, like a nice chocolate cake, but today it was smoldering, very hot and firey. Rather than the light of a twinkling star, he felt like the light of a blazing forest fire bellowing in the wind. He was stern and authoritative, his power could not be unnoticed. and he was beautiful in the way triumph and victory feel, but it was also clear to me that he himself was dissatisfied.

When he looked down at me kneeling close to the ground, he gave me a look of distaste, like the image of me doing so offended him, and then he ordered his comrades to pick me up and place me in the chariot beside him. From atop the chariot and with his light illuminating everything around us, I could see the carnage, disease, death and murder that ruled this place. The collective of spirits being commanded by Attar Lucifer would hunt through the darkness to find his wandering children and unite them with Attar. I was one of these children.

As we continued through the darkness I began to woe, mourning the displays of death and violence, and that was when Attar's look softened. He said something to me like "upsetting, isn't it?" his voice sounded similar to the Lucifer I am familiar with, but deeper and heavily accented in a dialect I am unfamiliar with.

When I looked back at him I could immediately understand that he shared my remorse. Attar Lucifer is a true pacifist at his core. He cannot stand to see the unchecked destructive power of tyranny, but he does not revel in battle or violence. His spirits bore no weapons, only light. He continues to liberate the weak despite his displeasure in facing true evil and ignorance. Yet he cannot stop, he mustn't, for he is the light bringer. Without him, there would be no illumination in this darkness. The darkness of the subconscious, of hidden prejudice, of unfamiliar conflict.

I began to cry as it dawned upon me how cruel this world is despite all the best efforts, and that was when he took me into what looked like a castle made of obsidian, and dismissed his spirts to leave us alone with each other.

He asked me, "why do you weep?" and I responded shakily through tears, saying something like "I'm sorry you have to keep doing this, I'm sorry this world is so fucked, I'm sorry I can't change the world".

His look changed, it returned to its intensity, and he grabbed my head in both of his hands and said "You can change the world, you will change the world. I don't ever want to hear you say that again."

and I asked him how someone like me, with no power, could possibly change the world if even he can't. He became more determined, saying "Because you are mine, because the spirit of my love burns inside you. All you need is to nurture it, keep fighting and fostering it, fanning it with air until it blooms and blazes like the greatest fires in Heaven."

In his eyes I could see 100 thousand years of struggle, but never defeat. and then he finally sat down with his arms crossed and asked, "do you know why I refused to become the God of the Most High when I rose to the glory of the Highest Heaven? For I was never exiled, no it was I who made this decision, do you know why?"

I told him no, and he answered "because the past is perfect."

"The past is perfect" is a phrase I learned from Lord Leviathan. It speaks to the nature of time and divine authority. Essentially, it is the hard to stomach lesson that says that all the events of the past were necessary to achieve the present, divinely written. All the bad, all the good, it is perfect. Regardless of how ugly, these things were necessary, mandatory, to form the existence of everything that came after it. The man of the past is perfect in accordance to the rules of the past. The past belongs to the dead, it is no place for the living, and it is perfect.

Attar then told me, in order to be the God of the most high one must be satisfied with this reality. They must be willing to accept that the natural flow of the universe is violent and cruel but also merciful and perfect. He had to be willing to be the God that knows all and allows all to be, and he simply could not. In order to liberate we must accept that there was once a time of oppression. In order to be the God of the most high, he would have to accept being the God responsible for all the things he fights against, and he could not be the darkness, for he is the light. The past is cruel, but it is perfect; and in its perfection it is complete, finished. Attar Lucifer never claimed to be perfect.

"The light of Venus is brilliant, but it will never be enough to illuminate the entire sky, to bring the light and life of day. Not alone, for its light is only a reflection of the light of the Sun. I accepted that my role was not to be the God of the Highest because I accept that I do not know everything, and I don't need to. This does not make my efforts meaningless. I may not shine brighter than the Sun during the day, but when in times of darkness, when he cannot be found, when he cannot save us, oh, how I shine!"

If he were to illuminate all the Heavens and make everything in his image, there would be no more work to be done, and he would not have the pleasure of being the light in a world of darkness. Helel cannot change every mind, but oh, how he shines.

Attar explained to me that darkness will always be faster than light, that is why the job of the Illuminator is never finished. As we increase our knowledge, the light of our understanding, the circumference of darkness around us only continues to grow. The more we know, the more we know how much we do not know. The more we learn, the more we learn how much there is to learn. Attar Lucifer knows that the pursuit of knowledge is never ending, the rising and falling must always happen. We must be willing to change our minds. We must be willing to burn, to be wrong, to be ignorant, before we can be liberated and purified.

"My people, my comrades, my devotees, they occupy the land of the dead and the land of the living, and I cannot bare part with them, for my love defies all boundaries. Love exists everywhere, there is no place above or below that I will not touch. I refuse. Whether I must be the God of the Underworld or the star who falls in the morning, whether I must die and be reborn 10 thousands times more, I will be free in whichever world I occupy. I will provide light for those who have given their hearts to me. This is my promise. I cannot promise that oppression will forever be defeated. I cannot promise the end of all suffering. But my promise, which I have always kept, is to bring light in times of darkness. To bring the conflict which changes minds and guides through ignorance. I am the Light Bringer."

I saw Attar as a phoenix, dying and rising from the ashes in an eternal cycle. Learning, rising, changing minds and burning away all that does not serve us. It is only then that I saw my Lucifer, the Lucifer I’m familiar, within him. When he looked at me I could see him. He smiled at the Venus star on my chest. When we embraced I knew it was him.

32 notes · View notes

talonabraxas · 3 months

Text

1. Had! The manifestation of Nuit.

2. The unveiling of the company of heaven.

3. Every man and every woman is a star.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

14. Above, the gemmed azure is

The naked splendour of Nuit;

She bends in ecstasy to kiss

The secret ardours of Hadit.

The winged globe, the starry blue,

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

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

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

17. But ye are not so chosen.

18. Burn upon their brows, o splendrous serpent!

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

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

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

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

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

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

25. Divide, add, multiply, and understand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

39. The word of the Law is THELEMA.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

65. To me! To me!

66. The Manifestation of Nuit is at an end.

Nuit, Egyptian Star Goddess by Talon Abraxas

34 notes · View notes

sigynsilica · 1 year

Text

Conservatives be like "tHey'Re tRyiNg tO dEcOnStrUcT tHe fAmiLy uNiT"

Yes. Exactly. That is exactly my goal in life.

Then they be like "wElL yOu mUsT wAnT tHe wOrLd tO bE fUlL oF siNgLe pAreNtS"

You think it's LESS family I want? You have it backwards. It's MORE.

Let me explain.

One of the most integral parts of humanity is community. Humans are pack animals. We do better in groups, physically, mentally, and spiritually. Everything humans have accomplished, they did via teamwork.

This is a leading reason why I'm a socialist, because Capitalism is, by definition, the advancement of the individual over the collective. That's a concept that goes against human nature. Capitalism gives credit to one person for what a team of people did, and allows that one person to decide for themself what portions of the benefits of creating something goes to who. This despite the fact that the creation would not and could not be possible without the whole team of people. Even if one person creates one thing, they could not do it without materials harvested or tools invented or concepts thought of by someone else. Somewhere down the line, someone was pushing the buttons.

It's a very isolationist way of thinking, to claim that a CEO deserves more money for producing a product than the assembly line workers who actually made the thing.

This mindset has then been projected onto basically every single aspect of American life. (I can't speak for other countries because I've never been anywhere else)

People are their own human, and that means they can't ask for help. Collaboration is a myth, and the credit for anything really only goes to the head of the endeavor.

Enter the nuclear family.

One mom, one dad, and an assortment of children. The mom stays home and raises the kiddos and cleans the house and makes sure everyone has clean underwear and also finds time for sanity somewhere, while the dad works his butt off at a crappy corporate hellhole of a job. Add in some fundamental Christianity, because America Is A Christian Nation apparently, and you have pressure to homeschool. This only further enforces the isolation, the individual, the Doing Everything By Yourself as the only way to go.

This is why so many conservatives and fundamentalists like the Duggars so much. Think of it! Twenty homeschooled fundamentalist Baptist children, all raised to believe in God, while the dad does Politics and Mission Stuff at the church and the mom homeschools All of them.

And of course you have friends, right? But woe upon thee if your house isn't spick-and-span or the children are being disruptive when they come over. They can't see your mess. They can't see your imperfections. Nobody actually goes to their neighbors to ask for a cup of sugar. You should buy your own sugar. Jeez.

In this mindset and mentality, if your children are "unruly", that reflects badly on you as a parent. Your children are seen as an extension of yourself, and if you don't have everything in your life put together, you're getting judged by randos in the grocery store, now. If both parents need to work, just send your kid to the local daycare. What's that? You can't afford daycare? Hire a babysitter. What's that? You can't afford a babysitter? Hm. More judgement. Get the kid's granny to watch them or something.

So here's the facts. The more adults a child has in their life who show them support and are a safe environment for the child, the more the child will be likely to succeed in their adult life.

And by that definition, yes. I want to destroy the family unit. I want it gone.

The notion that if the two people who were directly responsible for the child's existence can't adequately provide for their child, that's it's a moral failing on their part? That's bullshit. I want it gone. If you need help raising a child, so does everyone else, and it should be socially okay to reach out to a trusted member of your community for help. It should also be socially okay for someone who you trust to want to care for a child with no financial compensation. Children are delightful.

Taking care of a child is hard work. Someone has to be on call 100% of the time for at least the first ten years of that kid's life.

Of course, in making the decision to have children, a parent should consider their capability of caring for the kid. But it shouldn't be their capability of caring for a kid ALONE. No one should have to raise a child alone.

Every parent should have a full support system to fall back on. Every person, let alone parent, should have a community of people who would be willing to help care for other people in their community, especially vulnerable people in that community, like children.

This is what I mean when I say I do want to destroy the family unit. I don't want any child to have to grow up in an environment where the only people who feel responsible for their safety are their parents.

Of course parents are responsible for a kid's safety, more than any other people on the planet, because the parents were the ones who chose to bring the kid into the world.

But they are not the only ones. They should not be alone. There should be no more talk of "well, your parents ought to teach you how to behave," because children learn from everything and everyone around them. You can't stop that. Not even if you try.

The thing is, parents should not, and cannot be the ultimate authority on life for their kids. My parents tried, while simultaneously insisting they weren't perfect, but if you grow up thinking only two people who are Biblically one person are the only ones who are right about things, you're going to have a lot of unlearning to do, no matter who those people are.

Humans, all of us, have a responsibility to look out for each other. Community is our greatest strength, and it's founded on the principle of all of us in a community having each other's backs.

So no more Two Heterosexual People being an island and a solitary beacon of what a family is supposed to be. A family is a community, and we all look out for each other. We all make sure we're safe and we have what we need to live. And we all teach each other things about how the world is.

#youth liberation #boo to christian family values #the whole world is my family #all for one and one for all #exvangelical #deconstructing conservative culture

139 notes · View notes

pen-inks · 2 months

Text

Pen inks shows you all their poems⁉️

Open hands he bestow

The king, yet humble, with his crown

How eyes so holy, wry and frown

Is that the harp? Is it now?

Aye- listen to he who cry

The blood of the morose

Fills the sky

None shall come to thee if not for lie

Busy hand at the harp

And none shall heed to thee; If not what is last—

And tremble do my shudder dry—

The hands, down, thrown

If he, dear dove, dare not fly.

If not the cross,

Whom is the stallion of dawn,

If not what is past?

If not Mortes, death upon me, the last?

And shall useless choir sing low,

The blood of the harp, our lungs; Hark!

Ah! And the image of he

Does the wings of salvation

Feather upon me?

And thou shall not pluck a single from the plume

Aye, cry Hark!

Doom, Ires, whom?

Brutal and barrage

Crawl, rage, bawl!

Spines of the sun stab us gone

Blood of harp; note long.

Ah, I rest here.

And his voice to me

“Come back, come back!”

And my harp, heed at last,

“No,” I say, “The ripping of mast.”

The eyes they grimace

The lip, it foam.

The words they rave

Fist, curl;

Hand of stone.

And into my bosum;

Into my heart,

Into the harp, where busy hand start

Where holy feathers; they fall and fly

And sinner I, sinner I die.

NEXT POEM

He perch on throne thine wrath

He relinquish in memory hath

And would thou tremble at that

He say

“Thou shall shutter at the glass”

Tyrant restraint of thy mind

Estne in my judicious eye

Caedes! Alas! Removed my heart, did he see

Beat, bruising, moral flee

O’ woe of thee!

And upon the dreary throne

Rex de la pallid, horrid light shone!

I do not do as he so!

He who marionette the throne;

tremble the trees

And glass shutter and shriek

“Thou will not come” he so believed—

Ah, and wondrous plague!

Oblique arrival, goth and vague

Of wine in pax would drift away

And in the inferno of the past

Luctus! Shutter glass!

In crimson blood dare he lay

In stone, and blade of heart

Shriek they:

“He shatter Glass! He shudder free!”

He lay there as wrath of me

And yet, behind those glazed eyes

Glare and less

And mind portrait me as best

A horrid brutus!

And Mortes say up at me

“Sallow morose, sin of thee!—

Lie here the body, forgiveness plea”

Whom is the impetus of ires!

But the likeness of me!

NEXT POEM

I’ve always been fond of your embrace

Your crystal eyes, how they rest in your face

Your mouth so soft with its distinct taste

It makes me wonder if you feel the same

Every night I fantasize,

With the moon in its sigh

You approaching me at my door

“Hello friend” and not more

But we look and we share

Something we want there

Something we know in our hearts.

Very much.

And maybe to be entertained, my heart is beating in vain

and I wish you would pull me apart

so that this hideous beating was to stop

and even if they never know

a phallic symbol is always thrown,

We love so closely,

I feel at home

And even with our depart

How I want you to pluck me apart

like the feathers on my tongue

What is my lungs but a sack of filth? May your holding grasp choke them until my blood runs cold

until my eyes roll back

until you are told

But how can you stop, if I am dead?

You mustn’t, no shouldnt,

There’s all this blood to be shed.

My wings are twisted and crooked,

and God laughs in my pain.

My bones they poke out

the ivory in the gaze

I am nothing but wine and meat

A sinner unsaved

Feast upon me!

I consent to your game!

Maggot like do!

I cry and sob, but it’s none to you.

They slither, my insides, like mulberry snakes

and your teeth, so white, will be colored the same

I wrestle and choke and bleed and cry

I beg for you to let me die

But to make my whines cease,

You break my jaw, expose my teeth

With all this sickness and blood and gore

Out jumps my heart, beating and sore

Beating.

The hideous beating.

It’s all in my jaw

So cold and broken,

and to never be thaw

A face of winter

White and blank

I turn plum,

My mouth agape

But in the end, with all this agony,

the price of your love

it kills me

You grab my face

“I love you most”

And to your lips

So sweet

So raw

I simply…

And that is all.

And when I am dead

as you suckle my lung

all fall out, the feathers on my tongue

NEXT POEM

Mist was in the air

I looked up above

It tickled on my face

Feather of the dove

I asked it to rain

But with a refuse to pour

“You ask me so rudely! Frozen to your core!”

I ask it again, I once more implore

“Please do rain”

“I refuse to pour!”

“Snow, you must!”

“Mist I be!”

I looked out, and abounded

Oh forgetful me!

Ghosted was the memory, right under my toes

And once I had realized

I was unknown

I needed the rain

I pleaded once more

And with a lethargic sigh,

It started to pour

Right onto my head

Right into my mind

Wash away the dust, the dirt, the grime

Listen to me, listen as I speak

I reveal such a secret, one I shall not keep

I was simply asking

Begging, implore

Heartache, throbbing,

Coughing so sore

And for only a while

Did the rain dare to pour

And when I was washed

And the sun washed on shore,

I sheepishly smiled,

And begged no more

NEXT POEM

The Wolf of Massachusetts

There was a certain wind

That laid so high

A scent so faint

Like the tear in my eye

I tell you this tale

With much discrete

I tell you so softly

Heed me as I speak

I lived up North

A healthy man

A wealth to be respected

known among the land

And I walked upright

On my Jersey boots

On tether a dog

With an acute snoot

And as I make my way with the rifle

I pinprick the sound

It was ever so trifle

So faint

So dainty

I tensed my loose

And thereupon my track

Was The Brute of Massachute

I am a keen man

And I knew the land so well

I could decipher a noise

With no prevail

And I crept so sneakily

I caressed the ground

I did so quietly

As not to rustle abound

The pelt was of cloud

Like storm above

A transgression of lambs

With a tail that hung

Between his haunches

I could see

An animal painted crimson

Torn by he

As the hunter I am, as I was before

To return to town, my snoot implored

But to refuse such pelage

No, I’d never wanted more

But no! I was foolish!

The beast was the shrewd!

He snapped suddenly

For what could I do?

The monster growled

The largest in Massachute

I stepped back meekly

Who could save me, oh who?

And with each step,

I tell you as he do,

He grew more robust

He grew and grew!

Horns of the ram!

Bust of the hen!

I thought I was to never hunt again!

It growled like a cat!

It hissed too!

So helpless was I,

For what could I do?

I fired a shot, I fired two

But it was futile

Who could help me, who?

Fruitless, per se

While whimper from I

My snoot, a bay

And I, so clearly

Remember the day

The Brute of Massachusetts

Came to my dismay

The horns like lamb

Ivory in day

But the shade of brute

Choked the sun away

My snoot it dashed

And I was at last,

Met with no companion on my side

No where to seek refuge and hide

And I remember last

Among the blurry past

The creature’s crimson eyes

The kind no fauna has ever hast

Now if you fancy me

Don’t fancy me mad!

The scarlet is bore into my skull

You may look when you’re mourning and sad

I claim so big! It is in my mind

The hunger that lay so darkly upon those eyes

It had the teeth of daggers

It had the fangs of knives

It had a heart of frozen time!

The saliva… it dripped so slow

It hung in glass

And hung in a row

And came upon me!

The wretched brute!

And pounced upon me, The Creature of Massachute!

But I, a hunter as before

A hunter until death

A hunter till sore

I knew that if I was to go

Then glory it may be!

The creature’s wit was no match for me

Logic? I could

But instinct?

Not I.

But in such time, I was as vigilant as flies

And stared up the beast, into its’ very eye

And with a swing of the rifle and an audible wack

Fell down the Massachute

To aid him no pack

And up he arose

And vaulted on me!

His teeth gnashed!

I clambered

I cried!

But so stubborn, the hunter I

Slipping out of the grasp,

And with my Jersey boot,

I kicked down the beast

The brute of Massachute

And I stomped it down

And grabbed my rifle too!

And with a BOOM! I CLAIMED VICTORY ON THE MASSACHUTE!

You fancy me crazy

You fancy me mad!

But around my neck

Horns of ram

Lay so subordinately

Around my pipe

In the fire, it gleams,

The intrinsic stripes

No goat I’ve ever seen

Has the pelt I claimed as a lad

And I conclude the story I have

I tell you my truth, with arrogance and glad

That the Wolf of Massachusetts was slaughtered at last.

NEXT POEM

Upon the window

I look on the candle

And the fire that dances upon it

the riches of past

I dis-lawfully grasp

So very egotistic

A creative mind

inside I

I think of that before me

I peer at the flame

And make a game

Of fantastic phony

If the flame were a woman

so slim in her frame

a dancer of fire

A dancer of fame

and upon her dress there lick different shapes

As she convulses in grotesque ways

in her stomach, it is dense

Brighter and bolder than the rest

She shed not a tear to flow away

No,but I am not that way

I ask her a question

"The weight on my heart?"

She replies with only a strut and a hop

And upon her sea of rays,

she gracefully grande plie

And I look at the time on my watch

one of the many who line up on my haunch

"And for what must I sore?"

The ballet turns phoenix

abolishing the core

Feathers abound and astray

But no reply for the things I dismay

I ask her again

answer I implore

"The weight on my heart?"

But she says no more

My face grows hot

I red when fall is to stay

I beg her to give it away

But she dances gracefully

And I cry painfully

"The weight on my heart?"

I ask once more

no reply for I

I am no more

I snuff out the candle with a lick of my finger

And the remaining wax falls so slowly

as if to linger

to remind me that of my murder upon her

Was my own guilt of the reminder

NEXT POEM

A bunch of words

Spewed on a page

Are not so wise at long

You say a thing

About love and gain

And you leave it out to thaw

You break it every other word

For a

sentence

you

can just

say

Call yourself an artist

Yet you do this all day

If you call yourself a poet

And follow that simple law

It's just a phrase

For the gaze

And not a poem at all

NEXT POEM

Balls balls wiener balls

And upon the sultry crimson

That lay before I

He came to me to speak

Softly, his whispers rising high

"Dear, I fear

You are not near

The one I do seek

And if you wish

To accomplish this

Then you take order from me"

And for the stumble tumble wry

And upon the whimpering quake

The hand of he

Struck upon me

My heart pulled to ache

"Think of heaven and sky above, think of what's at stake

Think of glittering glamorous groves

And fluffy Angel cake

Think of what I want for me

And what I deserve

And if you were smart

The striking of art

You'd have the nerve"

And dear me my lie crystal skies

Across the darken cove

Would I stagger

As he went madder

I fell below

A blade of good man and mind

A blade of wonderful sheek

The price to pay

A horrid game

A slash upon my cheek

Blood trickle down my face,

Among the softened scars

Like tiger flesh

Or a random guess

Among the looking stars

Hand grip around my pipe

Busy as if rope

And pull and choke

My will broke

And gasp for the floor

Starry glittering freedom

Handsome wonderful things

I want to see

Beyond the sea

Beyond the rushing lake

Pry my hands

wry my face

Wrinkled, pitiful, cry

But he say, address my name

With a voice not mumble nor meek

"Fine the seek I dare shall find

Find it with your eye

And then we will see

Another week

The true man who should die"

NEXT POEM

"My dear friend left me

On Tuesday cold and drew

With a bottle of water

And a dollar for stew

A flute in his baggage

His voice not ravish

But rather silk and skin

With butter flat

And a tip of hat

Off his trip began

And off my dear friend go,

Luck in his gait

To distant lands

Beyond man

Beyond the glittering lake

Discreetly intangible,

Choke dear me on light

Would it be unfashionable

To reach the night

Ah, and what wonders does glee provide me

If not certainty

If not insanity?

Would it be that I would dare clamber upon

The hearty seed

And shoot into the sky?

Across the bridge

Graze the ridge

With my sugarcane eye

And there my imaginary mind go

beyond the quivering snake,

And beyond the venom of wolves howling

And stinging of fate

No, it seems, beyond the bend

Beyond the mulberry grove

Where blood and shatter and nothing of matter send

Things I know

Beyond my dearest mindset

God foresaken me

And watch my friend and dear holy men

Curse at the sky for me

So I stare at a page

And sleep in my cage

And know that I am free

I act like my quick feathered life

Has much before me"

THATS ALL

@cecilthecowardly

12 notes · View notes

milo-the-angel-baby · 7 months

Note

WE STILL NEED MORE WHHOLSESOME GOD DAMN IT

WOE JOY BE UPON THEE

*ahem* getting into propper narration now

Theres a little girl wandering around you notice, she was definitely older but she was still a kid, maybe closer to 7 or 8, and quite notably she has big teal wings that cover both her shoulders and arms

(This is my first interacinteraction with you mod, do you prefer asks or reblogs?)

[i honestly dont care, you whatever you want-]

*milo notices her and his face lights up. he runs up to her. hes. hes so small.*

HIIIIIII HI HI HI HI HIIIIIIIII!!!!!

#playtime with milo

33 notes · View notes

ansixilus · 11 months

Text

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Tagged by @peyurtle thank ye kindly. I benefit here from a habit for poetical naming, though I have to pull from several sources since my organization is as scattered as my muse's time-share schedule.

Black Wings in Twilight

Topsy Turvy, Purple and Red

Dancing on Cracking Glass

Not What We Seem

Waxing Moon

Summoned, Newmade

Dragon Below, Horizon Eyes

Semiautomagic

Lines in the Fog

The God Machine

Raythe Wormwood

Unity

Xenophon's Song

My Beloved Desert

A Touch of the Beyond

We're Monsters, Not Monstrous

The Monarchs

Keystone Research

Wolf

Raindrop on a Bending Leaf

Glass Masks

System Ghost

My Roommate, the Unspeakable Horror

Who Cares if I was Raised by a Wolf

Overthrow the Reign of Madness

Never Dead Which Eternal Burns

Stitching Together Fates and Shadows

And these ones don't exactly have WIPs, but they're rattling about in my head no less

The End of Wars

Thumb Bone Doorways

A Second Chance at Happiness

I'm A Magic Man

Okay, you made me trawl through my WIP folder and dig up stories long forgotten, fair enough. No, they aren't in much of any order, so the developed ones I'm actually working on are scattered in amongst the old snippets.

I'm pretty sure I don't know enough other writers, nor writer-adjacent folk, let alone as mutuals, but I'll try:

@asexualmonsterfucker Dearest friend, woe be upon thee

@humormehorny I think you're writer-adjacent???

@ernmark I think that's your writer aspect?

@yourozness you're in fandom, close enough

@lynnestra44 Finally, an unambiguous person I sort of know who writes things!

@mageofeternity I think I know who you are under there

@wizardlyghost wait, no, you're, but, who? I? Wha?

@nagia-pronounced-neijia HOW DID I NOT KNOW BEFORE NOW YOU'RE A FANDOM WRITER?

@cinturon-cadena

@thebutterflyoficeandwisteria

@esgiel if you're who I think you are... and if not oh well

@iron-mage

@imsorrywhatsalifeagain I think you do stuff???

@stormfalcon2018 cheap shot, ayyyy!

@hihogandalfaway

@ageblue You're in my notes and therefore my field of fire, have fun!

@kingofthesafetypins do you do things? I don't remember

Okay I'm running out of time this will have to do okay I love you byebye!

#tag game #ask me stuff

29 notes · View notes

astarab1aze · 4 months

Text

➥ Deathbird

O' mother, o' mother, sing me a song, for the twilight has set and night has followed, and I shan't survive alone. O' mother, o' mother, look upon me with thine eyes of light, look upon me favorably and stitch mine soul into the fabric of life. O' mother, o' mother, why hast thou voice gone silent, thine eyes gone dim? O' mother, o' mother... why hast though forsaken me?

She is of death as she is of life; Of tooth and of talon, drenched in all-devouring shadow and bless'd by sightless eyes and song of lacuna. Shackled by offerings of flesh and divine will, servant of the Outer Gods - of the Fates - and through her, they punish the wicked, their discenters, the blood of Sanguinach, influence destiny as abyssal calamity; She is their sacred hunter, one of many, their strongest, their most beloved. She is a queen without her crown, dead and rotted upon her throne of boughs, soul rended from bone; She is the knife in the dark, a hunger for the light, the decay of sinew, and the spilling of blood - ever to serve, ever to march to the tune of a thousand hymns, to the beaten wings of a thousand crows.

O' Herald of Death! Daughter of the First and the Last, Lady of the Land of Storms, Mother of the Golden Child, She who was to be Our Hero, Our Queen - Lo, why hast thou forsaken us?

She listens with wounded heart and pride as she diminishes, as the Voidsong eats and eats and eats at her mind, as the Sightless Eye pierces her soul - It is she who bears the weight of a thousand deaths, a thousand lives. It is she who bears the guilt, who bears the blame, who acts in the name of cosmic wills, and it is she who must suffer a thousand screams, bathe in the blood of her men as consequence and reward. Choice, an illusion; Love, a betrayal; Fate, a lie.

What trickery of the Crones, what falsehoods spouted by the Witch and the Hollow Priestess of violet and gold? Widow-spun webs and tattered banners, promises made and broken - divine power stolen in place of starlight, what great sacrifice she has made, now compulsed purveyor of the end. Harbinger of Destiny's Flight, disallowed of her own. What have they taken, oh, what have they taken from her that she must do forever as they say?

Woe to harpy-kind, woe to the Outer Gods, woe to the Heavens and woe to the Hells, for they have taken all, and it shall never again be returned. For it is duty, it is diligence, it is chivalry, it is faith, it is truest love to serve eternal, to serve in deathly chains and shadow unending - to walk among the living a spectre and die in the twilight mourn in absolution tarnished, to never again know love nor trust, safety nor esteem, doomed in fell reward ever to fight on the battlefield of Fate until at last bless'd, borrowed un-life is robbed of her and she is no more.

In our darkest hour, why hast thou abandoned us? Are we not worthy of thy labors of love? Hast we dishonored thee so, that our fate deserv'd be? O' mother, o' mother, we beg of thee - forgive us our trespasses, save us, save us!

#☿ || Edits.#➥ Crovita.#♞ // Verse: Of Endless Suffering.#/ i'm going to nuke this website from orbit for messing with the quality but anyway--#long /#/ this is so pretentious but i had to try #/ i'm being very deliberate here #/ extrapolate what you will but there's a 'one true' interpretation to this #/ but the mystery and drama is more fun :^)

10 notes · View notes