#Chapter: Heretic Free

[evillittlebirdie]

Salvation (Tav/Kar'niss)

Tumblr Prompt Fill for Tezzy

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine

Kar'niss was the latest addition to the menagerie and stuck out more than anyone. By all rights, Tav's interaction with Kar'niss should extended to combat only. She should have looted his body and moved on. 

Tav could not admit that she had a masterful experience with Drow. But, she knew that the abominations were paying the price of folly and incompetence. They failed a test and as such, were punished. She should have ignored Kar'niss like she ignored the numerous unnatural phenomena. But instead, she allowed a nagging sense of compassion to override good sense. 

Kar'niss lingered on the line between death and life. Most of his legs were broken and twisted. Blood coated his lips. Still, even in apparent agony, Kar'niss tried to reach the Moon Lantern. Astarion had already grabbed the lantern and was enjoying goading the pixie inside. Kar'niss was using his arms, shaking from exhaustion, to pull his body along the ground. As heavy as his abdomen was, Kar'niss only managed to pull himself a few inches. Desperation clouded his eyes before he finally collapsed. The Harpers and Tav's party did a number on his body. 

Tav walked over to the drider and raised her leg. She would give him a proper stomp to the head. Her body weight coupled with metal boots would ensure a cracked skull. Before she delivered the final blow, she heard a sudden whine. Something in her body lurched as Kar'niss' whimpers devolved into cries. Wretched, anguished sobs radiated from the drider. His voice was faint, but she could hear his pleas. He begged for his Majesty's protection, for the Absolute to save him. 

Lolth disfigured him and now the 'Absolute' would abandon him. 

Tav would later tell herself that his fanatical devotion would be useful. She would tell herself that his broken mind could be molded. He would be a loyal pet. 

Tav returned her foot to the ground and pulled a potion from her backpack. She stared at the health poultice in her hand before kneeling. "Shh, shh," She hummed to Kar'niss. 

"Heretic, don't touch me," Kar'niss hissed out, pain dripping from each phoneme. Tear tracks were running down his filthy cheeks. His capillaries had burst, reddening his vision. 

"Just drink," Tav insisted, taking the cork out of the bottle.

Kar'niss began to lose the ability to utilize his words. He merely pulled back from Tav, shutting his mouth tightly. The eyes collected on his forehead blinked unseeingly through strands of unwashed hair. 

"Hells," Tav muttered. "Stubborn little bastard." She did not want to utilize her tadpole, especially on such a delicate creature. But she pushed herself into his mind. 

Voices bounced in Kar'niss' brain, bounding off the walls of his skull. Tav could barely decipher the madness inside the drider's brain. Her pity for him increased, as well as her desire to save him. Tav had to compete with the Absolute as well as the broken man's illness. "Drink..."

Kar'niss suddenly stiffened. His eyes turned to Tav but he kept his mouth closed. "I want you to live," Tav told him through her connection. "Please drink."

Kar'niss kept his eyes on her before finally opening his mouth. Tav sighed in relief before she slid forward. If the scene involved one of her companions, she would have told them to lie on their back. Then, she would support their head as they drank the poultice. But Kar'niss was awkwardly on his chest, his abdomen preventing him from rolling over. Tav quickly problem-solved. She used her free hand to tilt Kar'niss' head up. She could feel the particles of grime, the notes of blood. 

"They are a True Soul. They would touch me..."  The voice sounded astonished, almost bewildered. 

"Yes, I would," Tav told him with a gentle smile, invoking a soft gasp from the drider. "What's your name?"

Suddenly, a foreign vision assaulted Tav's mind. A feminine voice, demanding and harsh, shouted, "Kar'niss!" A vile mixture of guilt, fear, and self-loathing twisted angrily before leaving Tav's cognition. 

"Kar'niss. It is a lovely name. Mine is Tav."  Tav brushed the hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear. 

"They walk without a lantern. They are sent from Her Majesty...A Chosen. A Fourth to the Three."

Tav could not deny Kar'niss and risk him rejecting the help again. "Yes," She lied to him, hoping that deception could carry telepathically. 

"I accused you of heresy. I attacked you. Why would you save me?"

Tav could not give him a forthright answer. Instead, she ignored his question.

"Be careful swallowing," Tav advised before bringing the poultice to his lips. She tipped slowly and watched as Kar'niss took in the potion. She kept an eye out, watching as the cartilage in his throat moved. He didn't choke or aspirate. Tav let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. He would recover. 

"Breathe," She stated, using her voice instead of the tadpole to communicate with the drider. She pulled the potion from his lips, allowing him to inhale. 

To say the least, the adventuring party was not surprised when they learned of their new companion. "Tav, my dear, you have a penchant for collecting strays," Astarion told her with a playful smirk on his lips.

***

Tav knew of a small cave near the Last Light Inn under Isobel's protection. No one would bother Kar'niss. Once Kar'niss' legs healed enough to support his body, Tav split from the group to take him to the cave. Kar'niss still was not speaking to her. Instead, he kept his gaze on her in an intense fashion. Tav truly hoped that saving the drider wouldn't bite her in the ass later. 

"You can stay here. It's safe. The shadows will not find you here. I promise," Tav told him, bringing him to the mouth of the cave. Kar'niss looked around the cave and a small chitter reverberated in his throat. Hopefully, that was a good sound. 

"I imagine you would prefer raw meat, but there's a lack of that around with the shadow curse," Tav continued, not sure what would happen next in the care and feeding of driders. "But my friend, Gale. You saw him. He was the human wizard that..." Tav paused before she continued awkwardly, "was probably responsible for one or two of your broken legs. Anyway, he is a lovely cook. I'm sure he can whip up a nice haggis." 

Kar'niss turned to look at her. He pursed his lips before inquiring, "They would concern themselves with my subsistence?" After speaking it aloud, Kar'niss visibly mulled over the dynamic. "They are too kind. To heal a wretch, shelter them, and feed them."

Tav's pity for Kar'niss intensified at hearing his words. Knowing how the Drow ostracized and abused driders, she was not surprised at his attitude. "Oh...well," Tav cleared her throat nervously, "I need you to regain your strength. And you need care, rest, and food to do that."

Kar'niss nodded, accepting this proposition, "They are merciful and benevolent."

Tav felt their cheeks flushed with guilt. If only he knew how close he was to having his skull smashed under her boot. She quickly changed the subject.

"Do you need anything for your nest?" Tav inquired. She looked past him to the cave. The ceiling was high and deep enough to deter claustrophobia, but small enough to sustain a web. 

"I will not bother them with non-necessities," Kar'niss stated firmly, as though the idea was out of the realm of possibility. "Not spoiled, not needy," Kar'niss added, his tempo increasing, "I will make them proud, and make them pleased to save this unfortunate being." The words invoked a time long ago. Tav didn't have to be a genius to see the poisoned memory in his eyes. Kar'niss had a story that led him to this point.

***

Tav returned to the cave with dinner for Kar'niss. As she approached the lair, she was surprised to see how prolific he had been. Even halfway healed, Kar'niss had managed to spin a sturdy, intricate web in the space. Tav could see his nimble fingers moving along the strong strands, weaving the material. Kar'niss was so engrossed in his work, that he did not notice Tav's entrance. It was not until he looked up that he saw her. He let out an almost frightened gasp, "Her Majesty's Chosen!" He skittered from his place on the web, traveling to the mouth of the cave. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your work. I just wanted to bring by dinner," Tav offered with a smile. 

Kar'niss stared at Tav, bemused by the offering. His gaze traveled to the bowl she had in her hands. He raised his hands almost hesitantly. His eyes darted back to Tav, and a breath caught in his throat. Confused by Kar'niss' hesitance, Tav cleared her throat, "Haggis, like I said before. But I can get you something else." 

"Her Majesty's Chosen would allow me to take?" Kar'niss questioned. 

"What? Of course. That's why I brought it to you," Tav insisted. 

Kar'niss raised his hands as though to take the bowl before suddenly jerking, taking a few steps back. Tav could see the tension in his jaw traveling down his neck to his shoulders. He whimpered before returning to his position in front of Tav. "They shame me, Her Majesty's Chosen. They offer food with no stipulation. I return their pity with uncouth behavior." 

Tav needed to add Lolth to the list of gods she planned to kill. 

"Hey, it's alright, Kar'niss. You almost died today. You have the right to be a bit skittish. Here, take it," Tav offered once more. She kept a smile on her face, hoping the gesture made him comfortable with her. "Also, 'Her Majesty's Chosen' is a bit of a mouthful. Please call me Tav." 

"Tav," Kar'niss repeated, his lips pursing at the sound. "It is not proper." But Kar'niss did not press the issue. He slowly reached to take the bowl. Tav took in his hands, especially his fingers. They looked normal at first glance before they morphed into talon-like claws. He took the bowl from her before retreating into his cave. 

Tav let out a sigh. She could take minor victories where she could

***

"Her Majesty, I am forever in your debt. Thank you for sending me your Chosen. Thank you for leniency. I will serve them until I am cast away. Speak through them and I will obey." 

Kar'niss climbed into the top cavity of the cave. He could see if anyone would invade his space before they could even notice his web. It was a fine nest.

"They speak sweetly. They offer. No demand. No request."

Tav, as she told him to call her, was beautiful. Even though his lantern lay broken, he could feel a light shone on him through her gaze. Her words foretold of a future where he could serve safely. Her hand was steady and gentle. If she were to punish...

"And yes they would punish. Because I am weak, your Majesty. Foolish, lazy, spoiled boy! But they would punish to correct. Only to correct, like you would. Not like Matron. Too far. Too much. Ilhar, Ilhar, please, I am sorry. Despicable, useless boy!" 

Kar'niss could feel his body tremble as his mind took him to his childhood. He shook his head and ran his clawed fingers along the wall of the cave, hoping the sensation would ground him. 

He would ensure that Tav would not regret wasting her time, her healing supplies, on him. 

"I have no right to ask this of you, Your Majesty. But if you could spare me one more blessing, please do. I wish to recover quickly. I shall protect your Chosen." 

Kar'niss' heart began to race as he thought about Tav. If her smile would shine on him once more if he served her well. Until he was healed, he could not physically protect her on her journey. But perhaps there were other ways to show his appreciation. His throat vibrated at the implication. But reality slapped him.

"Foolish thing. Your Majesty, guide me. Give me humility. They have a harem of males to serve them. To think they would allow me to serve her in that manner. Hideous, twisted, castrated, pathetic."

For once, the voices lowered to whispers. And Kar'niss could give into his exhaustion.

#whumptober 2023 #no.1 #but now this room is spinning while I'm trying to just fill in all the gaps #safety net #swooning #“How many fingers am I holding up?” #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #tav/kar'niss #kar'niss #baldur's gate fanfiction #violence tw

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Paying it Forward

Past

Author’s Note: More of the Grumpy Thousand Son who was rescued by you.

Warnings: More unsustainable fishing practices, poor astartes they get tangled in the nets :/. Some swearing, they/them pronouns for the Reader, let me know if I need to add anything please.

Summary: Imhoden, the thousand son who was rescued by you, talks about you to his pod, among other things.

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

Imhoden had spoken to his pod-mates about the human who had helped free him from the entrapping industrial fishing nets and more than a few of them were surprised that the human had helped him, without first demanding something from him in recompense before freeing him. One of the oldest of the pod warned him that while they hadn’t asked for anything for their help, that it’s likely a debt he owes to them. On Ancient Terra the warp-craft is far more difficult, taking far more energy and cost in supplies that they have precious little of to make. He agreed with the captain that he does owe the human something, for their help, but he hadn’t a name or much of what they looked like. After all, the human had been wearing protective gear to properly swim in the oceans depths that the space marines didn’t need.

“I did set a tracking spell on the human,” Imhoden tells his pod mates, “In case they are nearby and is in need of help, I can help them as they rescued me.”

“As they helped a member of my pod,” The Captain said after a few moments of thought, “I shall help you repay the debt if I find them first.”

“Yes captain,” he says with a nod of his head.

They continue to swim in the oceans of ancient Terra, they were trying to figure out just how they got here and if there is a way to get back to where and when they were before. Swimming through the water and through the air is an ability all space marines have. However, swimming in the air of this ancient Terra takes more effort and energy for some reason, that the Apothecaries have been trying to assess. Their pod, like many of the other pods, shivers, shoals of space marines have an uneasy alliance with each other. Except for some of the more… rigid of the Imperial lines.

Imhoden had never heard of a Black Templar before, and had much to his displeasure met one of the shouty sons of Dorn and the mad bastard had tried to kill him and his pod, decrying them as Witches, Heretics, and to be Purged and slain, to return to the light of the God Emperor of Man Kind. Throne on Terra. They were nightmare-ish to deal with, so his pod-captain had deemed the best method was to avoid the shouty little shits. Ugh, they gave Imhoden a headache jus thinking of them, and they are barely any better than those horrible Space Wolves, who are by far, one of The Worst Chapters Ever. The burning of Prospero is ever something that strokes the flames of wrath and hatred within every son of The Red King.

Several months later, he heard a chiming within his head, the small tracking spell he’d placed on the human who had rescued him informed him that they were nearby. He swam swiftly, after sending out a trilling call to his Captain about what he’d sensed and his captain gestured for him to go off and find the human. He focuses on the small tracking spell that he’d placed on them and swims swiftly and peers around to see where you are and what is going on. He sees his Rescuer trying to help a few Khornate Space Marines of the World Eaters out fishing nets. Unfortunately, the World Eaters are in Frenzy and are Not Listening. Mostly just bellowing, shrieking and flailing about, getting themselves cut more deeply. The blood and pain sending the idiot meat-heads into a further spiral of Rage and bloodlust.

He lets out a trilling call for his Captain and pod, this was going to take all of them to help the Idiot Khornate World Eaters and make sure that the human didn’t become lunch for the vicious thugs. He lets out a croon to the human, to let them know he was here- and where he was. They turn around and look for the source of the noise and recognize him, seemingly perking up and using their hands and words to explain the situation. He nods exaggeratedly and tells the human in his limited handle on their language that he understands and will help free the Angry Idiots. He warns the human that they need to get to the surface, as the… space marines within the nets will not be sensible or reasonable and might harm them, the human is stubborn at first, but sees more of Imhoden’s pod arrive and reluctantly goes back up to the surface. Imhoden swims up with them and follows them to their ship, tilting his head from side to side as he hears the human speak with the other humans on the ship.

“You should leave this area, will become very dangerous soon," He warns them.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #warhammer #adeptus astartes #OC: Imhoden #Thousand Sons #Thousand Sons OC #Mermay #Mermay 2024 #Mermay 40K #Mer May 40K

[howlingday]

Mmm, the Inquisition is making their demands. I daresay some would have issues with that. Tales and stories of Remnant has already spread by now. Orks like this world because of the Grimm but I imagine there's another Chapter of Marines that like the fight of the Grimm.

A chapter that's...angry.

A chapter that won't tolerate the Inquisition.

A chapter that's ALWAYS ANGRY!!! ALL THE TIME!!!

Behold! THE ANGRY MARINES!!!

A special thank you to @warmastercain55 for providing me the link to the wiki regarding this famous/infamous homebrew blend of Space Marines. More and more, I learn about the Warhammer community, and more and more I am amused and terrified of what lies within. That said, here is the sequel to my prior post regarding the Ordo Hereticus.

..............................................................

Jaune shivered with tears in his eyes as he watched his friends being loaded into strange device. He openly sobbed as he watched Pyrrha being hauled in, unconscious and unceremoniously dumped inside like a sack of flour. He never considered himself lucky, not in the slightest when compared to the other students with years of training already under their belts. Sadly, that training proved ineffective against the totalitarian regime that was the "Empire of Mankind," and it was only by his own natural luck that he escaped their claiming of these "psykers" that were his friends with unlocked semblances.

Suddenly, there was a loud scream, louder than anything Remnant had heard before. Suddenly, the grounds of Beacon were bombarded and cratered in by huge metal eggs from the sky. Suddenly, there was shouts of untempered rage echoing across the grounds.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Roared the Inquisitor. "We did not call for assistance from the Astartes!"

"No, but I did." Headmaster Ozpin replied. "We will not permit invaders who think they can bully their way into Remnant."

"You..." The Inquistor shook with rage. "You here-" He choked on his words as the headmaster smashed his cane into the Inquistor's throat.

"You are the heretics here!" Ozpin roared, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"WHO'S A FUCKING HERETIC?!" A booming voice, accompanied by the terrified screams of students awaiting to be taken away. A gilded giant stomped his way into Ozpin's direction. "WHO'S THE FUCKING DEAD MOTHERFUCKER WHO THINKS THEY CAN GET AWAY WITH HERESY?!"

The woman in black armor stepped in between. "It is these insubordinates falsely accusing our inquisition of-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND SPEAK PLAINLY, YOU GODDAMN WHITE HAIRED COCKSUCKING WHORE!"

"They're heretics." Ozpin pointed plainly at the Inquisitor, who was still grasping his throat.

"FUCKING HERETIC!" Pulling free his warhammer, the gold and red titan roared his battle cry. "ALWAYS ANGRY, ALL THE TIME!"

The Sister of Battle tried to silence his rage with gunfire, her anger influenced by the space marine. Her aggression was met with even greater aggression as his hammer swung with great ferocity, reducing her head to red mulch.

Leaving nothing to chance, Jaune ran through the crowd and into the machine that was about to leave. A shrieking woman reached for him, but Jaune pulled loose his sword and struck the woman. Lacking aura, her face was easily sliced open, and her blood spilled from her cheek. This only fueled her anger as she reached for her gun but found her weapon too heavy to life. Behind her, Jaune could make out the all-too-familiar red hair of Pyrrha, his partner.

However, before he could make another attempt at the woman, she was pulled from the aircraft by a golden gauntlet, inscribed with the words, "FUCK YOU". Jaune looked to his friends and called for them all to leave. As he left with Pyrrha, they shared the view of pure chaos roaring across the once peaceful grounds of Beacon Academy. Professor Goodwitch called for students to hurry inside, while Professor Ozpin was busy fending off the Inquisitor. The situation was hell, and there was no way for this to get any worse.

"OI!" Jaune heard a booming shout, then turned to the distance where there was a heap of metal that shook and shuddered as a large green creature called from the inside. "YOU LOT HAVIN' A SCRAP?!"

#rwby #warhammer 40k #ordo hereticus #orks #adeptus sororitas #angry marines #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #glynda goodwitch #my answer #my answers

[tomorrowusa]

Jim Wallis is an anti-racist Protestant theologian. He thinks that Trump's Bible grift is just one of the Orange One's religious issues.

Donald Trump has gone from using the Bible as a prop to turning our Holy Scriptures into a commodity. Words no longer suffice for the things he says and does with the most common word for his personal, political, and presidential behavior being unprecedented. But I have some better words—religious words. I and many other faith leaders are willing to accuse Donald Trump of two more things. The first is idolatry—false worship. The White Christian Nationalism that Trump proclaims, directly names the problem. First, the most inclusive and welcoming message of the gospel of Jesus Christ is made white by the marketer-in-chief of racial grievance. Second, the word Christian is distorted beyond recognition. Service, sacrifice, and love are replaced with control and domination with Trump’s religious disciples unapologetically aiming for control in their “Seven Mountain Strategy”—with right-wing Christians ruling government, business, media, education, family, arts/entertainment, and, of course, religion. And in direct contradiction to Jesus' instruction to his followers to make disciples in every nation, Trump’s faith will be nationalism, not just positively loving your own country, but asserting the power of one nation over others. [ ... ] The second word is heresy, which means drawing Christians and others away from Christ. Donald Trump and his MAGA movement deny the truest and deepest teaching of Jesus in places like his Sermon on the Mount. Trump’s worship of wealth and utter disregard for the poorest and most vulnerable brings the judgment of Jesus in Matthew’s gospel Chapter 25, “As you have done to the least of these you have done to me.” And the life of lies that Donald Trump has led and deliberately spread to the damage of our nation completely contradicts Jesus’ words in the Gospel of John: “You will know the truth and the truth will make you free.”

Here's the burn.

To invoke God, Mr. Trump, in the making and selling of your Bible is a very dangerous thing—not only for the soul of the nation but also for yours. You once said that you never have felt the need to ask God for forgiveness in your life. You might want to reconsider that now.

#donald trump #trump bible #eternal damnation #idolatry #heresy #jim wallis #christianity #election 2024 #vote blue no matter who

[poemsfromthealley]

[fic] Servant of the Spiral (3/12)

Read Chapter III on ao3.

Shadowhunters. Alec x Magnus. M. Chapter 3/12. 6,200 words.

Summary:

This is the story: in the holy heart of the world, a heretic kneels down, and entreats the exalted dead for power. Magnus knows he's good for one thing: he's the most gifted summoner seen in a generation. He can save the world, which is besieged by an ancient terror. In the first steps of his quest, he runs into the one man who might see him safe through it: Alec, a warrior sworn to the faith but put before an impossible choice by his family. The journey will bind them together in ways neither of them could have imagined.

Final Fantasy X / Shadowhunters fusion

summoner!Magnus & guardian!Alec

road trip to save the world (& show them all)

bodyguard romance / battle couple / reluctant allies to lovers

In this part: A trip to the city, ideological clashes, Alec being far too free with Magnus's face, and Alec's secrets coming to light. Or start from Chapter I.

#shadowhunters #malec #alec lightwood #magnus bane #final fantasy x #alec x magnus #fic by j #fic: servant of the spiral #stuff by j

[weiwuxianismybae]

Disciples of Baoshan-sanren (or anyone related to her) who leave her mountain are destined to die a terrible death.

Or are they? Let's look at that starting from the recent to the oldest, Wei Wuxian included.

Xiao Xingchen re-entered the world at the age of 17 and made a name for himself by helping anyone who asked for his help. After a night-hunt where he showed his prowes, clans small and big invited him to join them and yet he declined them all. He wanted to start his own sect with his dear friend Song Zichen. Sect based on same ideas instead of blood relations.

So, what happened? Well, read the chapters 28-42 (or ch. 7-8 in Seven Seas translation) for a full story. In short, he tried to help Chang Ping and caught Xue Yang, but because that demon was working for the Jin (you know, the most influential clan) he was allowed to live (and to continue to work for the Jin). The Jin even threatened Chang Ping to retract his accusations to let Xue Yang roam free again. And what did that lead to? Xue Yang took revenge on Xiao Xingchen in the most gruesome way: he targeted his dear friend and destroyed Xiao Xingchen's dignity (you know, made him kill innocents, something that goes against his core believes). Xiao Xingchen would not have met his terrible end if not for the influence of the Jin clan. But who gave them that influence? Sure, they're rich, but so what? If the cultivation world was as righteous as they say they are, then the Jin clan would not have held as much power as it did because of all those bootlickers (looking at you clan leader Yao).

Wei Wuxian...... do I need to say anything? The whole book is about how he got screwed over by the cultivation world. One moment, he was praised as a war hero, and the next the son of a servant dared to call out his betters for their hypocrisy, and he was called a heretic, a demon.

Jiang Cheng, “Wei WuXian! Don’t you understand? When you’re standing on their side, you’re the bizarre genius, the miraculous hero, the force of the rebellion, the flower that blooms alone. But the second your voice differs from theirs, you’ve lost your mind, you’ve ignored morality, you’ve walked the crooked path. You think you can be immune to all those condemnations as you stay outside of the world and do whatever you want? No such precedent has happened before!”

(ExR ch. 73)

(And who helped with that, Jiang Cheng? Anyway...) Would he have met his tragic end if not for the elitism and corrupted morals of the cultivation world?

Cangse-sanren and Wei Changze. I'm not gonna speculate on this since we are not given much. The only thing we know is that they died during a night-hunt and since Jiang Fengmian found Wei Wuxian on the streets of Yiling, it is reasonable to assume that they died somewhere near Yiling. And what else is near Yiling? Burial Mounds! Who knows, their deaths could very much have been an accident. However, how did Burial Mounds come to be? It's an ancient battleground; wars happen all the time, so who cares. But! Who made it worse? Who used it as their personal body disposal ground? The Qishan Wen clan!

Wen Chao continued, “The Burial Mound is right in Yiling. You Yunmeng people have probably heard of its name as well. It’s a mountain of corpses, an old battleground. If you find a spot wherever on the mountain and dig your shovel into it, you’ll be able to dig out a corpse. Any nameless corpses would be tossed here as well, wrapped in a mat only.”

The sword array descended slowly, approaching the black peak. Wen Chao, “Look at the dark air. Tsk, tsk tsk, the hostile energy is strong, isn’t it? And the resentful energy is thick, isn’t it? Even us at the Wen Sect weren’t able to do anything about it. We could only surround it and prevent people from going in. This is still daytime. At night, really any—thing can be found there. When a living person goes in here, both the body and the soul, they cannot return, unable to get out for all of eternity.”

(ExR ch. 60)

Instead of liberating the resentment, they made it worse. Sure, they say that liberation was not possible, so they sealed it away. But still, why make it worse?! If not for the disregard for human lives, the Burial Mounds would not have become what it is and Wei Wuxian would not have had to go through that hell on Earth.

Yanling-daoren. Well, we know even less about him than Cangse-sanren, but this time, I want to speculate! Let's look at this excerpt from chapter 40 (ExR):

Xiao XingChen, “You’re right. The first disciple who left was very outstanding. When he first left the mountain, due to his mastery over his skills, everyone praised and admired him, and he became a famous cultivator of the righteous path. But afterwards, people don’t know what he went through, but his personality changed drastically, and he suddenly became a villain who killed people without blinking twice. In the end, he died under thousands of swords.”

So... what did he go through? Well, we don't know, but that's why we're speculating! How does cultivation world see Xiao Xingchen and Wei Wuxian? Let's look at chapter 43 (ExR):

Lan Yuan was Lan SiZhui’s birth name. He protested, “I was not making excuses for him. I was simply suggesting that we may not want to make conclusions before we understand the entire situation. You know, before we came to Yi City, a lot of people also claimed that the YueyangChang Clan’s Chang Ping was killed by Daozhang Xiao XingChen for revenge, right? But what was the truth?”

Xiao Xingchen was praised all over, but in the end one conformation that the sword used on Chang Ping was Shuanghua and everyone came to that conclusion. What did Lan Wangji say again?

Lan WangJi slowly shook his head, “One should not comment without understanding the whole picture.”

(ExR ch. 30)

Riiiiiight. For the context, Wei Wuxian asked Lan Wangji his opinion on the situation after he heard that lingchi was performed with Shuanghua. So, it's logical to assume that the cultivation world saw Xiao Xingchen as this hero that after a defeat (to the Jin) turned on innocents (Chang Ping). But he did not! It was Xue Yang exacting his sick version of revenge.

And Wei Wuxian? Well, I already said it, didn't I? Hero turned monster. "How dare he! He is just a son of a servant!"

So, it's realistic to assume (in my head that is) that Yanling-daoren went through similar shit as Wei Wuxian, but without the life motto of "Remember the things others do for you, not the things you do for others. Only when people don’t hold so much in their hearts would they finally feel free." Or being as forgiving and good as Wei Wuxian.

Are Baoshan-sanren's disciples destined to die terrible deaths after leaving her mountain? I don't know. Something that all these people have in common is that they were respected and held in high regard and then died horrible deaths with their reputations in taters. You can call it destiny or moral failing of the cultivation world ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#mdzs #did i write all this just to speculate on what happened to yanling daoren? #you bet i did #if you have anything to add #please do! #wei wuxian #lan wangji #xiao xingchen #cangse sanren #baoshan sanren #cultivation world is shit #'so what' is my favourite phrase apparently #it's my first post ever #please be nice to me🥺

[divinities-hymns]

Chapter two of my Cult of the Lamb fanfiction “The Sacrificial Lamb” is now finished and posted :3

As they had expected it to be, the woods was filled with enemies made up of creatures and most likely aggressive heretics as well. Their free hand wandered up to their neck, finger running along the cold bell. What would happen if they were to die again? Would their god resurrect them again? Or would they simply die? Perhaps they would be back in that numb void again, with only the pain in their head and the screams of their kin as comfort. They shivered at the thought, there was no need to dwell on such worries because they wouldn’t fail, they would bring glory and honor to their gods name, no matter the cost.

“This time I’ll pace myself throughout the week so I don’t crate unhealthy habits and so I can make sure I eat and don’t get a migraine from staring at a screen for a whole day” - me before writing an entire chapter in an entire day with one break to eat an apple

#cult of the lamb #cotl #cotl lamb #cult of the lamb au #floreo au #lambsona #cotl fanfic #lambsona oc #cult of the lamb fanfiction #fanfiction #lambsona au #a03 fanfic #a03 #cotl a03

[thewitchoftheweed]

With no one to talk to and no heart for singing, Hamal walks in relative silence. Their bell jingles lightly with every footfall, so ever-present now they hardly ever notice it. The sound begins to echo as the mountains rise high around them on either side, funneling them into a massive slate canyon. There are signs of life here: half-repaired statues with scaffolding around them, new effigies of a cobra poised to strike, warnings carved into the stone of the canyon: You are entering the lands of Neftis, goddess of poison, pestilence, swarm, and death. Heretics be warned.

Hamal lingers at the warning, running their cloven hand across the word death. Rage boils their blood. If she thinks she can take Narinder and their power, she’s going to be sorely disappointed.

A voice suddenly pierces the silence: “O the mighty Lamb, come at last to free their love. Come see, sisters, gaze upon the terminus of divinity.”

#cult of the lamb #cotl #cult of the lamb fanfic #my fanfic #the lamb #narilamb #we’re making new friends!

[chronurgy]

10 characters, 10 fandoms

Thanks for the tag @rowanisawriter!

Tagging: @weavewithshadow, @bhaalsbabe, anyone else who wants to play!

Oooo this is going to be hard because I tend to get really into multiple characters from the same thing, but let's go! In no particular order:

1. Essek Thelyss - Critical Role

He's a war criminal. He's a prodigy. He's a traitor. He's a time and gravity wizard. He's a heretic in a theocracy where his mother is a living saint. He floats everywhere instead of walking. When the gang asks if they're going to have to kill him, he laughs and says "I'd like to see you try". He crushes someone to death with gravity simply by closing his fist. "My reasons [for treason] weren't good, but they were important". He goes from not having cared about anyone in 120 years to caring so much about a bunch of weirdos in like, 6 weeks. He made his father so mad during an argument that the guy stormed off and died. What's not to love? He makes me so insane.

Honorable mention: Caleb Widogast

2. Anders - Dragon Age

My favorite chaotic bisexual disaster man. The contrast between awakening anders and da2 anders is so fascinating for me. He's this carefree guy, except he isn't really that carefree, is he? He escapes over and over and over, swimming across the lake even. He hates the circle and hates the Templars just as much, he's just funnier about it. When you start adding up the year in solitary, Karl, the fact that he must have seen all the injuries in the circle as a spirit healer, it starts becoming very clear why he is the way he is. He also sucks! He's petty, he's mean, and he's so up his own ass about how right he thinks he is about everything. But he also runs a clinic for the poorest of the poor, dodging Templars and freeing mages all the while. He does the excellent wizard hubris thing of taking the future into his own hands, even if it kills people (suck my nuts elthina). He loves a romanced Hawke so much, even as he experiences this greater calling. Plus Grey wardens are cool as hell and he loves cats.

Honorable mention: mage!Hawke

3. Merlin - BBC Merlin

This show manages to be both ridiculous and sad. Merlin is such a happy go lucky, cheerful character at the beginning, then we watch as things just keep getting worse. He cannot seem to win. By the end, that cheerfulness seems much closer to a mask he's desperately clinging to than anything else. He's an expert liar and manipulator, he's a killer, and he's so, so alone. If he ever tells anyone that he's a sorcerer, he'll be executed. And he lives in the shadow of that for years, unable to be himself even with the people he's closest to. Also characters who have their eyes change colors when using their powers my beloved.

4. Daenerys Targaryen - ASOIAF

I love her chapters - there's so much interesting and human depth to her struggles (even when her struggles are fantastical). She struggles to know how to rule, and rule well. She takes hostages but loves them too much to kill them. She struggles to create and maintain a peace for her people even as that peace asks things of her she cannot bear. She worries what it says about her that her children are monsters and she both loves and fears them. She desperately wants a simple, loving life but is also so, so doomed to never have that. She's a queen and a dragon rider and a young woman trying to understand the world. She's great. (I don't care about the tv show I'm talking books here)

Honorable mentions: Jon Snow, Cersei Lannister

5. Gale Dekarios - Baldur’s Gate

Oh yeah, another hubris wizard. He's funny and has this easy, good natured charm that makes it possible to ignore that he's an absolute FREAK. He's got one of my favorite wizard traits - a strong ends justify the means streak. He points, very genteelly, at all the ways power and knowledge drive and corrupt. He's a sweetheart but he brags all the time. Except it isn't bragging, because he can back it up. He can really, genuinely, become a god. His relationship with the dark urge also makes me insane, because I think in some ways he's both the clearest eyed about what will happen to them and the one most willing to meet them where they are and also desperately wants to believe they're a good person, even when it's clear that they aren't. His line about how their life is no longer theirs to lead, only to follow to a dark urge who embraces Bhaal is incredible. The diverging paths of who he can become over the course of the game are fascinating and there's so much depth to him. He's great. Oh, he also excuses his cat's crimes. Love that in a man.

Honorable mentions: Enver Gortash, The Dark Urge

6. Camilla Hect - The Locked Tomb

She's the most composed, controlled, meticulous batshit fucking crazy woman in the world. Unstoppable force vibes. Instead of moving on after her necromancers death she pieced together tiny fragments of his skull and then shared her body with him. She's a genius and she can't let go of her insanely codependent relationship, even when it kills her (but honestly Paul seems pretty cool and I'm excited to learn more about them)

Honorable mention: Palamedes Sextus

7. The Jovial Contrarian - Fallen London

A little more niche, this one! I sometimes find that characters in fallen london can sort of pale in interest compared to the overall lore and happenings, but the Jovial Contrarian is one of my favorites. He loves arguing and will argue with anyone about anything at any time. If you have regular debating lessons with him, people will hide behind couches rather than face you. He's part of the calendar council and hates the masters but also wants a solution that isn't the liberation of the night. Anytime his name is mentioned you know you're about to read something ridiculous. Fun guy!

Honorable mentions: Poor Edward (incredibly narsty. great villain), The Eagle, Ascendant (they have like, 3 lines of lore and they're all fantastic)

8. Midna - Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess

I remember playing twilight princess for the first time and I just immediately fell in love with Midna. She's snarky, she's mean, her design is cool as hell, and I really loved her arc as she grew to really care about people over the course of the game. She remains firmly the best Zelda companion in my mind.

9. Elim Garak - Star Trek

You always knew it was going to be a great episode when Garak showed up. He always feels 30 seconds from chewing on the scenery and it is fantastic. He's an exiled spy and maybe a little bit of a monster and he never pretends otherwise. His lines to Sisko in "In the Pale Moonlight," telling him that he must have known what Garak would do, and that if the price of winning the war is Sisko's self respect then he'd call that a bargain are some of my favorite in an episode that already has a lot of really good lines. Aw man I wanna watch DS9 now.

Honorable mentions: Julian Bashir, Captain Picard, Tasha Yar (but wasn't she lame and poorly written? Yes. But young me was extremely taken with this aggressive short-haired woman for reasons I could not articulate at the time 🥴)

10. Morgan Yu - Prey (2017)

Okay so if you haven't played Prey stop reading right now and go buy it. Don't look up any spoilers or plot or anything just do it. If you liked dishonored or deathloop you'll love it. Now: who IS Morgan Yu? Who WAS Morgan Yu? Are they even the same person any more? How culpable are they? How culpable were they? Part of the reason Morgan is so endlessly fascinating to me is because we'll never know. How integral are memories to the continuity of the self? Why did you do what you did? Did you, the person standing here right now, even do it? The game just delivers gut punch after gut punch to Morgan and I love it and I love them (whoever they might have been).

Overall honorable mentions: the outsider from dishonored, garrus from mass effect, vimes and vetinari from discworld, and all my dnd characters (shout out especially to Hermès Montclair who fucked a dragon, died (unrelated to said dragon fucking), then came back wrong and fucked the dragon again! No one's doing it like you baby)

#Ask games #Thanks for tagging me I had a lot of fun! #Picking just one character from each thing was soooooooo hard

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Heretic's Chosen, Chapter Four

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three |

CW: Aftermath of noncon/dubcon, nonsexual nudity (or... post-sexual nudity?), mentioned bruises, creepy whumper, intimate whumper

-

Present day

“You don’t believe in Dromada.” Grigori keeps his gaze firmly off to one side, refusing to grant the bastard the privilege of eye contact. Instead, he stares through the barred window at the beautiful day outside. 

Bohli only laughs, straddling Grigori’s hips as he reaches over him to untie his hands from the intricately carved headboard, one by one, before pulling them down to tie them together. Why Bohli bothers, Grigori will never know - it’s not like he can go anywhere, like he could escape this. Put that damn pendant back on and Grigori will look like he’s in love if he’s told to. He’ll feel like he’s in love, and be utterly unable to understand he isn’t.

“No,” Bohli says, voice low and heavy, and Grigori’s mind may shudder at the idea that Bohli will want him again so soon, but his body responds differently. “Or rather… yes, but not the way you think.”

He pulls away, leaving Grigori to shiver in the sudden chill when Bohli’s too-warm body is gone. He sits up, watching Bohli dress in his black leathers while Grigori can only sit there naked, picking at the knots on his wrist without success. “What’s that meant to mean?”

“Well, I believe in Dromada, but I don’t believe in any such thing as your silly human goddess,” Bohli responds easily. His leather slide on like a second skin, and as soon as he has them, Grigori can hardly remember what he looks like without clothing - only a sense of skin absolutely covered with runic tattoos in the elven tongue that he refuses to explain or elaborate on. “Those are two different things, Grigori.”

Bohli is a little flushed from his exertions, his hair a wild mess atop his head, but he doesn’t even bother to try and comb it down. He has a feral look to him, with his narrow chin and hard jaw and sharp teeth, that isn’t attractive, not in the slightest, no matter what Grigori’s immensely traitorous body thinks.

“No, they’re not,” Grigori says. Before he can finally work one knot open and free himself, Bohli is back in front of him, pulling him to his feet on shaky legs. His hips hurt, his lower back aching in a soft way that might have been sweet, if any of this was what he wanted. 

Isn’t it, though, by now? He could be fighting harder than this.

But he doesn’t.

As days pass, he fails to see the point in trying. At least his mind is wiped clean, for a few perfect minutes, each time Bohli overcomes his resistance. At least he has peace, briefly, before all his self-loathing rises again. 

“Hm?” Bohli blinks, pulling Grigori’s knuckles to his lips, giving each one a gentle kiss that has Grigori’s fingers twitching in an urge to throw a punch that he knows damn well won’t land, just to say he did it. Just to keep fighting. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Dromada is the human goddess of forgiveness,” Grigori says, slowly, frowning and jerking his hands back from Bohli’s grip. The half-elf… man… whatever he is, laughs and ties a new rope to the short bit of slack between Grigori’s wrists, backing up while jerking on the makeshift leash to force Grigori to stumble forward, naked and sweaty and marked from Bohli’s attentions, with lips still red and thighs still shaking. “Wait, what-... what are you doing-”

“Taking you for a walk,” Bohli says cheerfully, continuing backwards to the door, yanking Grigori into the hallway even as he starts trying to drag his feet.

As lean as he looks, though, Bohli has inhuman strength, and no amount of struggle keeps Grigori within the relative safety of his room.

No, his feet stumble onto the thick, heavy rug that runs the length of the hallway, and his face flushes a deep dark red as he sees two of the bandit gang turn to look before they burst into laughter and murmur to each other.

Bohli keeps him moving, away and not towards the two who still direct their laughter at Grigori’s back. 

Grigori’s heart pounds in his chest, he’s dizzy from rage and humiliation as they pass bandits in ones and twos, down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door of this ramshackle home for evil out into the sunshine. Every single bandit laughs at him - he knows all their darkest sins, they come to confession regularly whenever Bohli commands it, and they don’t lie. They want him to know the depravations they pursue, they want him to see the wicked natures of their hearts. 

He knows the worst things they have ever done, and yet here, they laugh at him - and he can do nothing. As far as they're all concerned, he is just Bohli's bedtoy and prisoner, here to amuse, here to be ground under their feet, here to give Bohli his basest desires to play with, a holy man to turn into profane perversion.

Not that he feels holy any longer.

Please, he prays, but Dromada doesn’t listen. Maybe She can’t hear him in the Kaila, maybe the woods are beyond Her ability to reach. Maybe that’s why mankind stays away from the darkness here, the trees older than time, the first forest to have ever existed. The place where the elves once came from, before they were chased back into it, before they were destroyed.

Or were they?

Please save me. I will be your priest again, and I will not waver this time. Please, please, goddess, please. 

She gives him nothing.

The sun, at least, is warm on his hair and skin, and the grass is soothing and soft under his bare feet. Bohli tips his head back and Grigori watches his eyes close as he seems to preen and flower under the heat and light coming from the bright blue sky. Grigori looks wrecked, like a whore after serving in the war-tents for the soldiers.

You are a whore, now. You know that, right?

He forces his own thoughts away. Grigori knows he looks destroyed, torn apart, scratched to bleeding, bitten to bruising, slapped to redness on his arse and face according to Bohli’s depraved lusts. But Bohli… looks pristine. There’s no red marks on him, no bruise. Nothing to show what he's done.

Only his lovely, sharp face and his bright, shining smile.

As if Grigori had simply fucked himself into this appearance, and Bohli had stood by above it all.

“I hate you,” Grigori says aloud, hardly realizing he’s done so until Bohli opens his eyes and turns to look at him, looking faintly surprised. 

“What?” Grigori’s heart quakes, just a little, at the way Bohli’s smile drops off like it was chalk washed away by rain, and something in those dark eyes turns coldly elven, all his humanity simply gone like it’s only a mask he wears and he can take off at will.

“You… you heard me,” Grigori says, and somehow his voice stays steady. There are more bandits out here - the ones patrolling the edges of the clearing, guarding against wildlife that might try to make its way in. A few simply sitting out on the grass enjoying pints of beer they make themselves here from stolen grain. He knows they’re looking while pretending not to look, seeing the marks on his body, knowing their leader put them there. “I hate you. You have-... you have ruined me.”

For a moment, those black eyes on his feel like voids he might fall into and drown.

Then Bohli throws his head back and laughs so loud that a flock of birds is startled out of the trees nearby and takes flight with raucous caws and the beat of wings.

He keeps laughing, the bastard, his knees folding and then giving out until he falls onto the ground, jerking the rope until Grigori is pulled down, too, to land on his hands and knees on the grass. Someone calls out something filthy about what they could do with him out here like this, and his face burns. Tears are hot beyond his eyelids and he works as hard as he can to ignore them.

Bohli is still laughing, airy and breathless, as he drops onto his back, turning his head to look at Grigori with appraising, glimmering eyes. “Gods below, you thought I would care. See, Brother Grigori-”

“How dare you call me that!”

“-this is why I like you so much! You are a fucking treat. I’m so glad we let you live. I’m so, so glad I found you. You’re a beauty, and you’re mine. Now that’s a gift from the gods, don’t you think? My very own dirty little priest.”

“I-I’m no longer-”

“Oh, you still are one. Just because I have taken all your sacred parts and sanded them down to mud doesn’t mean you aren’t still a priest of Dromada, my pretty little man. You are a pure man turned to slut at my command, and that's all I need you to be, really. Come here.”

Grigori sets his jaw, knowing it won’t matter. But he can’t force himself to move, and he has to make Bohli work for this, even if he isn’t sure why he bothers. “No.”

“I said, come here, little priestling.” Bohli's smile shifts again, fades a little.

“And I said no.”

They stare at each other, for one long breath of silence broken only by the wind in the trees and the fading calls of the fleeing birds. Then Bohli’s smile widens so much that he seems like the stories of sea monsters and sharks, a mouth full of rows of endless teeth, black eyes that take in light but don’t reflect it. “Oh, Brother Grigori,” Bohli breathes, lighting up with new desire. “If you want me to take you again so badly, you should just say so.”

“What?” Grigori’s eyes widen in shock and new horror. He still hurts, he still throbs. “No!” He throws himself backwards, and Bohli isn’t expecting it - the rope slips through those long fingers fast enough to make the half-elf wince before Grigori is on his feet and fleeing, still naked, towards the woods.

Others in the bandit group stand, but Bohli holds up a hand. “Let him go,” He says, voice bright, getting softer as Grigori runs. “I’ll give him a ten-minute head start, let's see how he begs for me to take him back once I catch him.”

Grigori hears more laughter, but he ignores it, making the edge of the clearing in only a few seconds. He’s always been a good runner, fast and strong. He used to race some of the others in circles around the temple, see who could do the most laps in the shortest amount of time. His breath burns his lungs as he things, unwillingly, about his brother priests, the family murdered by the same bandits who keep him here as a sort of toy for their amusement, who shred him body and soul, day by day, to… what? Prove some point about their hatred of the goddess?

To prove some mysterious point to the King, a man Grigori has never met, who no one has ever seen in person outside the palace and the battlefield?

He runs, half-blinded by tears that come unbidden, that he can't quite seem to force away. He runs as if fleeing the flames that had burned down the only life he ever knew and left him to dissolution, to being preyed upon by a creature of such absolute devotion to degradation.

The trees at first seem natural and normal, but as Grigori runs straight into the woods, the Kaila begins to crowd around him. The sunlight grows dimmer, blocked by the grand canopies of the trees that loom over his head. After a couple of miles, maybe three, the canopy is so thick that it seems as dark as night around him. Things crash away from him through the woods, wildlife startled by him into fleeing. 

His feet hurt, sharp pains as he keeps stepping on things he can’t see through the underbrush. He's panting like a child - or like a man who hasn't been allowed to run in a year.

By now, he knows, Bohli is after him, tracking his trail through the trees. Grigori comes to a stop, looking around himself and realizing he has no idea how far he will need to go to find one of the safe paths through the Kaila.

Or if there even is one in this direction.

He takes a breath through lungs that burn, realizing he can’t even give up and turn around and go back. He has no idea which direction he’s come from, and no idea which direction to go. His rebellion may be simply to die, lost in the dark forest that is damnation to man, doomed to wander as just another trapped spirit caught here between the trees, subjected to the whims of the lingering traces of the elven gods and their terrible cruel amusements.

But at least he will have wiped that smile off Bohli’s face, taking from him his toy and breaking it where he cannot follow, the bastard.

Grigori squares his shoulders, looks around, and walks in a direction at random, heading for the sound of some kind of stream he can hear, picking his way more carefully now that the panic has subsided. Do elves track by scent? Bohli might, if they do… he doesn’t know. But it can’t hurt to stop for a drink of water before he moves on anyway.

Show me the way, he prays. He pleads, he throws every last remaining shred of belief he has in Her mercy into his mental voice. Please, my goddess, I have worshiped you since I was an infant. Save me. Please, please save me.

She doesn’t answer.

She hasn’t answered him since the day his brothers all died and he was spared by a trick of fate.

Still, he keeps moving.

His last act as Dromada’s Chosen, he supposes, will be simply to take from a wicked man something he wanted for his own. It’s not much.

It’ll have to do.

If he’s very, very lucky, he’ll get Bohli so lost he dies in here, too.

-

Tag list:

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @arlin-always-writing @sunshiline-writes @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @befuddled-calico-whump

#whump #the heretic's confession #fantasy world #fantasy writing #fantasy whump #captivity #nonsexual nudity #aftermath of noncon #creepy whumper #cheerful whumper #defiant whumpee #runaway whumpee #religious whump #I mean fantasy religion but #priest whump #more foreshadowing hints if anyone cares to guess #humilitation tw #escaped whumpee

[rottenprincessshura100]

Hello!

Chapter 140 has been my Roman Empire. Do you have any theories that lead to that future. Rin is alone but powerful almost like carrying Yukio sadness. I have been reading your theories lately and I really like your takes especially about the twins having two fathers and the watermelon theories.

Chapter 140, is showing us a possible dystopian future.

One that might not happen.

Mephisto has been spending all of his time meddling in the timeline, trying to find ways to stop the end of the world. He's been attempting to create the perfect vessel for Satan or Lucifer. Once he is successful, the world will come back into balance.

Mephisto can't see the future past a certain point, he doesn't have all the answers yet, but he's stacking his deck with options.

The dystopian future is bleak. Rin is powerful, but sad and damaged. Like he's been alone a long time, or fighting against a new evil, which I think is The Knights of the True Cross. (Crazy, right?)

In the future Gehenna and Assiah merge.

True Cross is under the authority of Arthur August Angel, whom, as we know, hates demons. Under Arthur's leadership, humans and demons are segregated. Demons are kept away at all costs, and Arthur is no doubt, hunting demons.

This is a big mistake

We know, from various chapters, that demon suffering brings evil.

Demons simply want to feel all the pleasures humans feel without pain. It's the pain, and the mistreatment that's the problem. If demons could live alongside humanity pain-free, the anger and resentment would fade. Demons wouldn't be so dangerous.

And if humans chose to instead live and collaborate with demons, perhaps they could build bridges and share divine power. That's the direction Yuri and Lightning were going. They aren't heretics, but smart.

Demons with family, seem to be able to spread out their powers and have viable human vessels. That's a reason why Mephisto has the ability to live such a good life, being as strong as he is. It isn't just his Time powers that preserve him but he's got a human family out there. (Of course he keeps his kin and family in hiding, and it's a mystery that's yet to be unravelled.)

Back to the Future

The Future for Rin must have been traumatic. There is a complete separation of exorcist factions. But who separated?

Rin obviously must be on the side of demons, and I'm hoping he's with Lightning, Shura, and Mephisto. I hope he's not all alone.

On the True Cross side, we have Arthur August Angel. And I hate to say it, but I think Yukio would still choose to fight against demons and side with Angel. (We haven't seen it yet, but I predict it.)

Something bad might also happens to Shiemi which divides the brothers into hating each other. If Rin lost Shiemi, it would kill his soul.

Not the Real Future

I honestly don't think this is the future that will stick. If Mephisto finds the perfect vessel for Satan and one for Lucifer, and finds a way to bind their powers. It's possible to stop the dystopian future from ever happening.

He keeps rewinding the timeline looking for the answer that eludes him.

I still think Shiro is the somehow the key.

Now, Shiro is dead to us, but never dead to Mephisto. Mephisto sees Shiro over and over, when he revisits and tweaks the timeline.

If Shiro decided to become Satan's vessel during the blue night. Maybe Yuri wouldn't have to die, and maybe both Satan and Shiro could raise Rin and Yukio. It's a long-shot, I know. But when Satan possessed Shiro both times, the demon's powers didn't kill him. Shiro stabbed himself to rid his body of Satan. In some capacity, Shiro was able to control the possession and push Satan back. That's no small feat.

I also think that demons and certain humans are destined to pair up. Shiro and Satan were compatible physically, and very much alike personality wise. Shiro was just weak of spirit. He wasn't mature enough for the burden. As a matter of fact, Shiro's actions created death and suffering. Yuri tried to escape with Satan, but Shiro sold them out to the order. This started the chain-reaction that lead to the blue night and Yuri's death.

If Mephisto could somehow change the past, and convince Shiro. Rin and Yukio would have a very positive future. Yukio only had Shiro to raise him, and he desperately needed Yuri. The woman loved demons and would have passed that knowledge off to Yukio, creating empathy and understanding.

In the end, the terrible dystopian future isn't Rin or Yukio's fault. Neither of them are to blame.

Like Lightning said to Yukio a few chapters back; Children are not responsible for the mistakes of adults.

Shiro created this mess, and he should be the one to fix it.

He needs to step up sometime in the past and offer to be Satan's vessel.

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

We still have the trouble with Lucifer. There are various possible vessels for him kicking around.

We have Arthur, but I don't think he'd be able to share his body with a demon. He's weak of spirit and hates demons. If Lucifer possessed Angel, the exorcist would die. (might happen)

We have Shiemi, whom like Arthur was a clone or hybrid of Lucifer that was powered from Shemihaza's crystal.

3. The Uzai stole Lucifer's old ashes after Shemihaza destroyed him during the blue night. The fact that they were meant to be sealed away, means that they might still be viable source material for a new vessel.

4). We have Homare Todo, who is potentially a demon-eater like her father. She's hanging out with Lucifer all the time, and has caught his temptaint. She's a viable vessel and she might have the strength of soul to control and bind him. Maybe make him happy?

5). We also have Nemu Takara, a kid that seems to not have a soul, but speaks through a puppet. Who the heck is that kid? Is he an empty shell being controlled by Mephisto?

Anyway, this is one of my theories on the future.

It could go in any direction. ;)

#blue exorcist #ao no exorcist #blue exorcist theories #aoex #shiro fujimoto

[archtroop]

'Scary' Islam Is Recruiting Woke 'Useful Idiots' - Yasmine Mohammed (4K...

Yasmine Mohammed is an ex-Muslim who speaks out against the extreme religion, and how woke useful idiots are being used against us. She was forced to marry an al-Qaeda terrorist, but has since escaped and now speaks out with incredible bravery. #heretics​ #islamist​ #usefulidiots​

Follow her on X:    / yasmohammedxx  ​

Subscribe to her channel: @YasmineMohammedxx​

More info:

Through her initiative Free Hearts, Free Minds, she supports closeted ex-Muslims from Muslim-majority countries and co-ordinates an online campaign called #NoHijabDay​ against World Hijab Day. She also has a website and hosts an online series on YouTube called Forgotten Feminists.

Mohammed has been interviewed by Sam Harris, Seth Andrews, and several news outlets from multiple countries, and in 2019 self-published the book Unveiled: How Western Liberals Empower Radical Islam.

Chapters:

0:00​ Highlights

1:30​ % of Scary Muslims

5:30​ Why Worse Than Other Religions

8:30​ Is There Something About the Text?

11:30​ Is Islamophobia Racist?

14:05​ Can you be an atheist Muslim?

16:30​ Yasmine’s Past - What Was I Thinking?

19:10​ What Did Allah Look Like in Your Mind?

21:30​ Yasmine’s Bravery (Insane!)

23:30​ Salman Rushdie Said This

25:20​ Yasmine’s Incredible Story

31:30​ Marrying an al-Qaeda terrorist

35:30​ Covering Herself in Black

38:30​ The Beatings She Took

43:30​ The Ideology Ruins Love

46:00​ Where Islamist Palestine Turned

49:30​ Palestine Like ISIS? Using Western Students

52:30​ Strippers for Gaza / Useful Idiots

55:30​ The Plot to Take Over The West

58:30​ Katharine Birbalsingh & Michaela School

1:00:30​ Maajid Nawaz

1:04:10​ A Heretic Yasmine Admires

#radical islam #woke culture #the lie of Islamophobia #critical thinking #terrorism #the 100 year plan #which sounds a LIT like the Third Reich #“you are looking for the Nazis in all the wrong places” WE TOLD YOU SO FOR YEARS NOW #the muslim brotherhood #jihad #JihaNazism #fundamentalist ideology #Yasmine Mohammed #interview #Youtube

[camelliagwerm]

catch up time

tagged by @waterdeep and @zahra-hydris ! Thank you both.

LAST SONG: seduction by hans zimmer from dune part 2 :3

CURRENTLY WATCHING: nothing. it's probably more accurate to say i'm listening to the black dice society again while i'm working.

THREE SHIPS: well, Valerius/Camellia who have been living in my head rent free for 2 and a half years now. It's their head now. Byron/Viconia and honestly either Leonelle/Jaethal or Leonelle/Nyrissa depending on how I'm feeling that day.

FAVOURITE COLOUR: black and burgundy

CURRENTLY READING: so many things as per usual lmao. dungeon meshi vol. 2, heretics of dune, the tainted cup by robert jackson bennett, the last wish, from here to eternity. generally speaking it just depends on what mood i'm in regarding which book I actually pick up.

CURRENTLY CONSUMING: nothing, can't eat first thing most mornings. i'll grab a bite of breakfast when i've got a couple of hours of work under my belt lol.

FIRST SHIP: probably aragorn/arwen.

PLACE OF BIRTH: england (unfortunately)

CURRENT LOCATION: still here (unfortunately)

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single and happy to stay that way lol

LAST MOVIE: dune part 2 and it's been living in my head rent free all week.

CURRENTLY WORKING ON: forever stuck in professional curiosity part 3 hell, savour its sweet bloody taste chapter 6 and some final prep work for a run of the house of lament. also my work caseload always (help me i have Too Many Cases)

tagging: @avallachs, @attanos, @the-raging-tempest , @silversiren1101, @galfrey, @blighted-elf, @bearvanhelsing, @outeremissary, @cassynite - no pressure if you don't want to!

#harper.txt

[isshua]

Messianic Aureation

Chapter 1: The Return of the Beginning, and the Start of Something Greater

Here we go, first Sagau fic I'm posting on this site. I haven't used Tumblr in years so bear with me while I remember how to use everything.

You can also find the fic here, under the same name, where it'll probably be updated sooner compared to here.

Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Enjoy! :)

Chapter 2 is here

There is a false god in Teyvat.

The winds know it and the earth knows it. The animals know it and the plants know it. The monsters and the storms and the clouds and the sea all are aware. Teyvat cannot be deceived. And yet, it cannot do anything to stop this false god. It is powerless against a higher power, a heretic sitting upon a throne of lies. All Teyvat can do is watch and pray that one day, the rightful owner of the title Creator will return.

The false god has tricked the people of Teyvat. Gods and mortals alike bow before them and swear their undying devotion to a puppet. They cannot see through the trickery of the heretic’s words. The false god stays in power and rules with a cruel fist with no room for mercy within their cold heart. Teyvat feels it and suffers. It weeps for its true Creator, the Almother Caratrice, to descend from her heavenly plane and smite the false god with her Veritas Incarnata, Truth Incarnate, a sword fused with the power to reduce Celestia to ash if need be. Alas, the Divine Creator remains absent from her world. And Teyvat continues to weep.

There is a prophecy, one written in the stars and banished from all forms of text by the hand of the false god. A prophecy that speaks of heroes, of battles, of blood and death and a fight between gods that will shake Teyvat to its very core and bring mortals and immortals alike to their knees. It speaks of the Divine Creator rising up and defeating the false god to reclaim her rightful throne and free the people from the chains of Madness with the aid of her nine champions. It is a prophecy of freedom. It is a prophecy of hope.

When the earth shakes and the sky crumbles,

when the blind’s hunt is done…

When the Truth and the Madness collide,

the battle for Teyvat will have begun…

From the night sky oh holy Caratrice will come and rise up to reclaim her throne.

With the help of the new Nine Choirs, Teyvat will welcome the true Creator home.

Lupus, Rota, Ocellus, Fila, Peregrinus, Alatus, Monoceros, Iracundus, and lastly, Palmatum.

Nine names, nine Choirs, defenders of the Ideals.

Find them, bring them together, the Truth shall be revealed.

The Creator and the Nine will free Teyvat from the spell,

and the heretic’s Madness shall be quelled.

And if the prophecy is not fulfilled,

blood will stain the earth,

and the world will suffer still.

3,000 years before the Archon War, the Creator was at war with Armageddon, the Destroyer, god of the apocalypse, her twin brother and corrupted counterpart. Teyvat was in ruins, and life was on the brink of extinction. The Nine Choirs, human beings who were chosen by Caratrice to rise to godhood and fight as her warriors, were tired. Humanity was tired, and the world was close to being consumed by the Destroyer’s darkness. So, the Creator, in all of her compassionate glory, sacrificed herself to save Teyvat. She gave up her light to chase back the Madness and died with the promise to return someday to finish off Armageddon once and for all. For this solution was only temporary: Caratrice’s light did not kill her brother, only wounded him. Beneath the earth in which the Crossroads was built is where Armageddon slumbers. Someday he will awaken, and the god of the apocalypse will rise once again.

The Nine, not only Caratrice’s strongest fighters but also her dearest friends, mourned her loss and disappeared without a trace. Teyvat was safe, but without its founder. Life could go on, but not without the possibility of Armageddon returning. Without its godly protectors, the darkness could be left to fester and constantly fight back against the light.

There is a false god in Teyvat. An imposter, an impersonator. This false god abuses the power wrongly bestowed upon them to trick the people of Teyvat with a veil of Madness. But this heretic’s time is limited. And they know, sooner or later, the true Creator will keep her promise and return to the world she conjured so many ages ago. Teyvat knows it, and it is prepared, ready to embrace the reincarnated Caratrice with open arms. The prophecy must be fulfilled. The Primal Light will awaken again.

She stood on a thin line, a sheer cliff that went straight down on both sides.

Surrounding her was a veil of darkness. Below her was the abyss. Above her was nothing but an empty void of swirling gray and black. There was no light except for the faint golden and purple glow that seemed to be emanating from her. Cara knew she was dreaming. Her body was numb and disconnected from her brain; she couldn’t move. It was strange, to be experiencing an out-of-body sensation such as this one, and yet having no control of how things went. With no choice other than to simply go along with whatever her subconscious mind was conjuring, she stood there, watching the abyss roil and the darkness churn.

“Caratrice?”

The voice that bellowed out from the shadows sent a deep vibration through her body. On its own accord, her head tilted up to the sky. The light within her pulsed and brightened.

“Can you hear me Caratrice?”

Something was descending from the sky. Cara saw the bright flash of wings and felt the burning gaze of something massive staring down at her. The light within her pierced through the darkness and responded to the foreign entity. Cara was blinded to the point where she couldn’t see anything at all.

“You must return to the world you left behind, Caratrice. Your creations need you.”

Her mind was alight with memories that did not belong to her. Beautiful blue skies. Green hills and towering mountains. Constellations and the voices of people she didn’t know. All she could see was gold and purple.

“Wake up Caratrice.”

“Wake up.”

“Caratrice.”

“Wake up!”

Cara shot forward with a gasp, a cry leaving her lips as she lurched out of the darkness and into an entirely different environment. She panted, sweat congregating on her forehead as she clutched her t-shirt and closed her eyes, struggling to control her breathing and calm herself down.

When she opened her eyes again, she observed her surroundings. She wasn’t standing on a cliff that was on the edge of darkness. She was sitting in her bed with her covers drawn over her legs. Morning light filtered through her bedroom shades. She could hear the chirping of birds outside of her window and the distant rumble of cars.

She was safe. The abyss, the golden and purple light, the voice. It had been nothing more than a nightmare. She was okay. She was alright.

That’s the fifth time this week.

They were growing more consistent, and Cara was not happy about it. Every time she shut her eyes and fell asleep, she was plagued by the same nightmare. She didn’t know how much longer she could handle this. Every single one ended with the same outcome: a loud booming voice yelling for her to return to her “creations.” She would wake up in a cold sweat, terror seizing her heart as she was forced out of sleep and back into the real world. She had no idea what these nightmares meant. There had to be some hidden meaning behind them. But what could it be? It was frustrating to wake up from the same dream every morning and have absolutely no idea what it was implying about her life.

Well, it didn’t matter anymore, did it? Sleep was impossible to grasp now, and after lying in bed for a few minutes with nothing to do but stare up at her ceiling, Cara sighed and slowly got out of bed to make her way to her bathroom. Switching on the lamp stationed above the sink, she blinked a few times to get her eyes used to the light, then turned on the faucet to splash some water over her face.

It was refreshing and cool. Cara enjoyed the feeling of the water, closing her eyes with a deep breath. When she opened them again, she took a moment to study herself.

Dark bags hung under her eyes, a clear sign that she had been having trouble sleeping for weeks. Her cheeks were pale, and her pupils were dull with exhaustion. To put it simply, she looked absolutely horrible.

These nightmares are going to be the death of me. Cara shook her head and turned off the light, trudging back to bed. She crawled back under the covers, but all hope of going back to sleep was gone. Maybe it was because the water woke her up, or maybe it was because she didn’t want to have another strange dream.

She groaned and buried her face into her pillow. Another sleepless night.

“Fuck!”

The sound of her friend’s scream ripping through her headset made Cara wince, her fingers stuttering over her keyboard and causing her to lose focus. She watched as the Cryo Regisvine they were fighting slammed itself into the ground and killed Xinyan, Yoimiya, and Diluc at the same time. She groaned in frustration.

“We died,” her friend, Nick, said sadly.

“Yeah, no shit we died.” Her other friend, Casey, sighed. “Guess we have to try again.”

“We wouldn’t have lost if you hadn’t screamed like a banshee and caused Nick and I to get distracted,” Cara commented.

“It was an involuntary reaction!” Casey protested. “What was I supposed to do, sit there and be happy we got killed?”

“This is why we never let you take charge of boss battles.” Cara teleported to the nearest Statue of the Seven. She clicked on Yoimiya’s profile icon to heal her. “Next time, I’ll lead the boss battle.”

Casey made a small noise of protest that immediately got drowned out by Nick. “Hey, I thought you said I could choose the next boss battle.”

“We still have to defeat the Cryo Regisvine,” Cara said. “I need to ascend Kaeya to level 90.”

“And I need to ascend Noelle. The Cryo Regisvine can wait.”

“Okay, okay, before you two start arguing, let’s form a plan,” Casey cut in. “Since we’re closest to the Cryo Regisvine, let’s take that on first. After we beat that, we’ll help Nick ascend Noelle. Sounds good?”

“Yes,” Cara answered. “Sounds like the perfect plan. Nick, you in?”

Nick, ever the peacemaker, agreed. “Yeah, that’s a good plan, I guess. You always come up with the best plans, Casey.”

Cara could envision Casey puffing up with pride in her mind. “Don’t encourage her, Nick,” she laughed. “She might start to take you seriously.”

“No, no, Nick, do go on, I insist,” Casey said. “Tell Cara how much better I am at this game than she is.”

The three of them laughed. These were the times that Cara enjoyed; on a cold winter evening with nothing to do, playing Genshin Impact with her friends. Casey and Nick had convinced her to start playing over five months ago, and ever since then, she was hooked. The game was fun, with interesting lore, enjoyable characters, and fun enemies to fight. Nick and Casey had truly gotten her invested, and they joined up over Co-Op to play together every week. When Cara wasn’t playing Co-Op and had free time between her busy work-college schedule, she would spend time doing quests and leveling up her characters. To say the least, she was invested.

As they were traveling back to the Cryo Regisvine, a tingle shot through Cara’s fingers. All of a sudden, a burst of static erupted from her headset, causing her to gasp and throw it off. The screen of her computer glitched, momentarily freezing her gameplay.

The glitch ended as soon as it had begun. Cara stared at her screen, heart pounding. Hands slightly shaking, she picked up her headset and slipped it back over her head.

“Cara?” Nick called. “Are you okay?”

“We heard a loud thumping noise,” Casey said. “Did something happen?”

“I-I don’t know,” Cara replied. She clicked her mouse a few times and moved Yoimiya around. “My computer suddenly just glitched. I don’t know if it was lag, or bad internet, but it just sort of broke for a moment.”

“Is it working now?” Casey asked.

“Yeah, it seems fine.” Cara shook her head. “That was so weird. I just checked earlier to make sure my computer has no viruses. What the hell was that?”

“Maybe you should check again?” Nick suggested. “Or it could be your internet. Is something wrong with your router?”

“Let me check the connection for a moment. I’ll be right back.” Cara took off her headset and stood up. She left her bedroom and headed into the living room of her dorm. Beside the television, her internet router was hooked up. When she knelt to check on it, she saw that everything was completely normal. The router wasn’t unplugged, nor did it seem like it was having any trouble producing an internet connection.

So weird, she thought to herself. Never had she had something like this happen to her. After looking over the router one more time, she got up and went back to her bedroom.

“The router’s fine,” she said into her microphone after she sat back down. “It must have just been a glitch then. I hope it doesn’t happen again. That was absolutely terrifying.” She paused, hearing, to her surprise, nothing but silence. “Guys? Are you still there?”

No response. Cara checked to see if she was still connected to the voice chat the three of them were in. Nick and Casey were still there, unmuted. She unplugged her headset and replugged it back in. “Guys? Can you hear me?”

Her keyboard felt warm to the touch, and she noticed that strange tingle had returned to her fingers. Cara studied her computer screen, noticing, for the first time, that Nick and Casey’s characters had disappeared. The only one there was Yoimiya, and for some reason, it looked like she was deliberately staring at her through the screen. Cara felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end; she got the distinct feeling that she was being watched.

What the hell is going on? Cara called out for her friends one more time. “Hey, guys? This isn’t funny, answer me!” My computer has to be glitching out. I should restart it.

She moved her mouse to shut Genshin Impact down. Abruptly, pain flared through her hands and shot straight up to her forehead. Her screen flickered again, more violently this time. A full roar of static rose up out of her headset. Cara fumbled to throw them off and get away from her computer but found that she couldn’t pull her eyes away from the screen. Purple and gold flashed across her face; she couldn’t think, couldn’t move, could only continue to stare in shock and horror as everything went haywire.

“Caratrice.”

The voice was coming from her computer. “Accept your godhood Caratrice. This is meant to be. It is fate.”

“Return to your creations.”

“Save Teyvat.”

And then, her vision went black. Cara had the distinct feeling of being sucked into something before she passed out.

#genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau #genshin impact #genshin isekai #isekai #genshin fic #genshin impact fanfiction #fanfiction #sagau impostor au #messianic aureation

[fourgods-nobrakes]

the scattering of the primarchs

As it happens in The First Heretic, an incredibly important turning point for the characters involved, and a great moment of the Powers extending their influence into realspace.

[this is the last scene of Chapter 17; Argel Tal and the other not-yet-Gal Vorbak have been taken to various places and times by the daemon Ingethel the Ascended, who promised to show them the truth of the universe and their own history. The final place it takes them is the laboratory where the infant primarchs are nearly ready to be "born" from their Geller Field-protected cradles.]

“The Legions tell the tale of the Emperor’s twenty sons being cast into the heavens by some great tragedy, some flaw in their creation process.’

You have been raised with tales of the primarchs that lead your Legions, but you have been fed centuries of lies. In a matter of moments, you will witness the truth. The Anathema dealt with the Powers of the warp long before he left Earth on the Great Crusade.

The Anathema desired mighty sons, and the gods granted him the lore to forge them with a union of divine genetics and psychic sorcery. He came to my masters, hungry for answers, beseeching the gods for power. With the lore they gave him, he shaped his twenty sons.

But treacheries have occurred. Oaths – sworn in blood and paid in soul – have been broken. The Anathema now refuses to show humanity the Primordial Truth, and the gods of the warp grow wrathful.

The Anathema is keeping its twenty primarch sons and paying no price to the Powers that gifted him with the knowledge to shape them.

Xaphen gripped the handrail to keep from going to his knees. ‘Our father – all of our fathers – are the spawn of ancient blood rituals and forbidden science.’

Argel Tal couldn’t keep from laughing. ‘The Emperor that denies all forms of divinity shaped his own sons with the blessings of forgotten gods. Prayers and sorcery are written upon their gestation pods. This is the most glorious madness.’

Be ready. The reckoning comes. The Powers will reach into the material realm to reclaim the sons they helped breed.

Argel Tal looked at the pods through a smile that wouldn’t fade. ‘This Geller Field. It fails, doesn’t it?’

It will fail in exactly thirty-seven beats of your heart, Argel Tal.

‘And the primarchs are seized – taken by your masters in the warp. That’s the accident that casts them across the galaxy.’

The warp gods are the primarchs’ rightful fathers. This is not to spite your Emperor. It is nothing but divine justice. And as these perfect children travel through the stars, they will grow. This is the first step in the gods’ plans to save mankind.

‘And Aurelian…’

Is the most important one of all. Lorgar’s incubation pod will be carried to Colchis, to walk the first steps to enlightening humanity of the Primordial Truth, and the gods behind the stars. Without the gods, humanity will die, piece by piece, under the predation of the aliens that still lay claim to much of the galaxy. Those that remain will die as the eldar died: in agony, unable to see the Primordial Truth before their very eyes.

This is Fate. It is written in the stars. Lorgar knows that humanity needs divinity – it is what shaped his life and Legion. It is why he was chosen as the favoured son.

Xaphen closed his eyes, murmuring a litany from the Word. ‘Faith raises us above the soulless and the damned. It is the soul’s fuel, and the driving force behind millennia of mankind’s survival. We are hollow without it.’

Argel Tal drew his weapons. The swords of red iron slid free from their scabbards with twin hisses.

Yes. Yes…

Both blades sparked into electrical life as the captain pulled the handle-triggers. Xaphen regarded him with hooded eyes.

‘Do it,’ the Chaplain said. ‘Let it begin.’

Argel Tal whirled the blades in slow, arcing loops, their crackling power fields growing more intense, the blades emanating ozone mist as they burned and rasped through the frozen air.

‘Aurelian,’ whispered Malnor. ‘For Lorgar.’

‘For the truth,’ Torgal said. ‘Do it, and we will carry these answers back to the Imperium.’

Argel Tal looked at Dagotal; the youngest of his sergeants, only recently promoted before the Legion’s humiliation. The outrider commander’s eyes were distant.

‘I am weary of being lied to by the Emperor, brother. I am so tired of being ashamed, when what we believe is the truth.’ Dagotal nodded, meeting his captain’s eyes at last. ‘Do it.’

Three.

He stepped forward, staring at a cluster of vein-like cables twitching as they channelled artificial blood around the semi-organic tower machine.

Two.

Argel Tal span the swords, leaving blurred trails of lightning in their wake.

One.

The blades chopped down, crashing through steel, iron, rubber, copper, bronze and vat-grown blood.

Both swords exploded in his hands, their blades shattering like smashed glass and decorating his bare face with bloody cuts.

And then, for one horrific, familiar moment, Argel Tal saw nothing but burning, psychic gold.

#argel tal #key moments in grimdark history #this is one of the most important moments in the whole series for me #the choice to turn away from the imperial “truth” and embrace whatever comes #just word bearer things #engaging with the canon

[elveny]

Nor Death Do Us Part

Imagine an Ishgard where the war against the Dragons has been so long that it has become close to legend and myth. Where fights are far away and the peace in the city only disturbed by heretic terrorists spreading lies and fear.

The Holy Church keeps the people safe, so nobody in their right mind would work against them.

… right?

At least that is what Adriene tells herself - until she meets an incredibly handsome stranger in a club whose kiss literally gives her visions. An encounter that turns her whole life upside down and makes her question everything she thought to be true. About the War, about heretics, about dragons... and soon, she has a decision to make.

Nor Death Do Us Part | Read on AO3

E-rated, Estinien x WoL, Soulmate AU, 9 Chapters

The air was thick and humid, throbbing with the rhythm of the music. Lights cut through the darkness, flickering and sweeping, returning the joyful faces to the dancing people for split seconds before they were lost again to the anonymity of the crowd.

It had been so long since Adriene felt this free, losing herself in the rhythm pounding all through her body, the thrill and pleasant buzz of exertion running through her. Her sister had been right all along, she should have gone out much sooner, expenses be damned.

Ever since she had moved to Ishgard a few weeks ago, she had worked tirelessly to get a foothold with her tiny flower shop, to make ends meet. She had worked so hard that she had nearly forgotten how it felt not to be hyper-focused on her business. How it felt to just be.

An intense gaze met hers amidst the sweeping, colourful lights followed by a seductive smile from sensual lips. Adriene wasn’t certain whether it was directed at her, but she smiled back just before the lights flickered past and transformed the crowd back into moving shadows.

The song changed and the man was still there, his eyes as dark as the club around them. His smile brightened as he met her gaze, and this time, she was certain his smile was meant for her. Adriene felt drunk on the atmosphere, and let the music carry her closer to him. Whenever he moved, the muscles in his bare, tattoo-adorned arms stood out, his long silver hair flashing brightly under the spotlights that wandered over the dancing crowd. He was utterly beautiful.  

He moved with powerful, fluid motions, his open hair falling wildly around his face. Words would get lost in the music and so, neither even attempted to talk. There was only the moment, only the music and the movement, and Adriene let herself get swept away by it. Dancing closer and closer, laughter and appreciation in their eyes and smiles, the atmosphere and music wove an air of possibilities around them. Endlessly, they moved together to the rhythm, the crowd around them a sea of meaningless strangers all just as lost to the music as they were. She gave him a look from hooded eyes, arms raised over her head and he took the unspoken invitation. The first touch sent a small shock through her in the best possible way, his fingertips carefully resting on her hips as they swayed together, and her breath hitched slightly as he moved closer until she could feel his torso moving against her back. Waves of heat radiated from each point of contact through her, and Adriene closed her eyes to savour the feeling. She lost track of time afterward as her whole world seemed to shrink down to the sensation of dancing with this stranger whose mere presence made her whole body sing in anticipation.

There was a lull in the music, and suddenly, she heard his voice against her ear, his breath whispering over her skin and sending goosebumps over her whole body.

“May I buy you a drink?”

Read the rest on AO3

#Nor Death Do Us Part #wolstinien #estinien x wol #estinien varlineau #ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #soulmate AU #elveny writes #estinien wyrmblood #oc: adriene hawke