#freedom for God to bind as he please

[queenlucythevaliant]

Time to share another of my favorite Christian poems with you all. It’s a martyrdom poem by Varlam Shalamov, a victim of the Soviet gulags and also the writer of Kolyma Tales. A few favorite stanza are written out here; the entire poem is typed out below. It’s a little on the long end, but entirely worth it. 

“Avvakum in Pustozyorsk” by Varlam Shalamov

The walls of my church

  are the ribs of my heart;

it seems life and I

  are soon bound to part

 .

My cross now rises,

  traced with two fingers.

In Pustozyorsk it blazes;

  its blaze will linger.

 .

I’m glorified everywhere,

  vilified, branded;

I have already become

  the stuff of legend.  

 .

I was, people say,

  full of anger and spite;

I suffered, I died

  for the ancient rite.

 .

But this popular verdict

  is ugly nonsense;

I hear and reject

  the implied censure.

 .

The rite is nothing—

  neither wrong nor right;

a rite is a trifle

  in God’s sight.

 .

But they attacked our faith

  in the ways of the past,

in all we’d learned as children

  and taken to heart.

 .

In their holy garments,

  in their grand hats,

with a cold crucifix

  in their cold hands,

 .

in thrall to a terror

  clutching their souls,

they drag us to jails

  and herd us to scaffolds.

 .

We don’t mind about the doctrine

  books and their age;

we don’t debate virtues

  of fetters and chains.

 .

Our dispute is of freedom,

  and the right to breathe—

about the Lord’s will

  to bind as he please.

 .

The healers of souls

  chastised our bodies;

while they schemed and plotted,

  we ran to the forests.

 .

Despite their decrees,

   we hurled our words

out of the lion’s mouth

  and into the world.

 .

We called for just vengeance

  against their sins;

along with the Lord,

   we sang poems and hymns.

 .

The words of the Lord

  were claps of thunder.

The Church endures;

   it will never go under.

 .

And I, unyielding,

  reading the Psalter,

was brought to the gates

  of the Andronikov Monastery.

 .

I was young;

  I endured every pain:

hunger, beatings,

  interrogations.

 .

A winged angel

  shut the eyes of the guard,

brought me cabbage soup,

  and a hunk of bread.

 .

I crossed the threshold—

  and I walked free.

Embracing my Exile,

  I walked to the east.

 .

I held services

   by the Amur River,

where I barely survived

  the winds and blizzards.

 .

They branded my cheeks

  with brands of frost;

by a mountain stream

  they tore out my nostrils.

 .

But the path to the Lord

  goes from jail to jail;

the path to the Lord

  never changes.

 .

And all too few,

  since Jesus’s days,

have proved able to bear

  God’s all-seeing gaze.

 .

Nastasia, Nastasia,

  do not despair;

true joy often wears

  a garment of tears.

 .

Whatever temptations

  may beat in your heart,

whatever torments

  may rip you apart,

 .

walk on in peace,

  through a thousand troubles

and fear not the serpent

  that bites at your ankles—

 .

though not from Eden

  has this snake crawled;

it is an envoy of evil

  from Satan’s hand.

 .

Here, birdsong

  is unknown;

here one learns the patience

  and the wisdom of stone.

 .

I have seen no color

  except lingonberry

in fourteen years

  spent as a prisoner.

 .

But this is not madness,

  nor a waking nightmare;

it is my soul’s fortress,

  its will and freedom.

 .

And now they are leading me

  far away in fetters;

my yoke is easy

  and my burden grows lighter.

 .

My track is swept clean

  and dusted with silver;

I’m climbing to heaven

  on wings of fire.

 .

Through cold and hunger,

  through grief and fear

towards God, like a dove,

  I will rise from the pyre.

 .

O far-away Russia—

  I give you my vow

to return to the sky

  forgiving my foe.

 .

May I be reviled,

  and burned at the stake;

may my ashes be cast

  on the mountain wind.

 .

There is no fate sweeter,

  no better end,

than to knock, as ash,

  at the door of the human heart.

#this poem absolutely destroys me #there are so many threads running through it but more than anything I see such beautiful submission to God's will in it #the road to the Lord goes from jail to jail; the road to the Lord never changes #and so there's this exhortation to relish martyrdom and long for glory #like so many of the martyrs #and yet it's so uniquely personal and Soviet #that opening line: if they blow up our cathedrals and outlaw our meetings we will still carry the church in our chests #behind our ribs in our hearts #and then to say 'we don't care about the specific books or rites or liturgies we care about /freedom/ #but not freedom in the way that most people in this situation would mean it in the way that he would have every right to mean it #freedom for God to bind as he please #and somehow the part that makes my heart twist most with grief is 'i have seen no color but lingonberry in fourteen years' #YET still this is not a waking nightmare; it is my soul's fortress #my soul's barren colorless fortress #but God is there #and so my yoke is easy #ughhhh this poem #and that ending #the awareness that the greatest end a person can have is to have one's death be a tertimony #if you haven't read it read Kolyma Tales #it's some of the most beautiful prose I have ever read applied to one of the most awful subjects in history #and for goodness' sake read this poem #it will do your soul good #the unquenchable fire #literature makes us more human #leah learns calligraphy #i would cut off a toe for the chance to write about this poem in a formal context #but tumblr will have to do #martyr club this is for you #russia where are you flying to?

[noxtivagus]

aymeric de borel oh my god

#🌙.rambles #[ ffxiv. ] #nvm the azemet brainrot #this man is the only person on my mind #apollo's annoying me rn bcs she's doing the enw role quests w aymeric 🤕 #the gposing... the screenshots she's taking OH MY FUCKING GOD #i'm making fun of her but ik i'm gna do just the same ahaha 💀 #watched her play a bit through the role quests #prompted me to look back at my own old heavensward notes again. yes #cringe and free. #nooooo i'm looking at my other notes n i have more ffxiv quotes here #'we were blind to the truth once so i'll tell you this as one fool to another. light dark it doesn't matter. what matters is how you choose #to use them. we made our choice and you see what came of it so please. forge a different path. seize a better fate.' #to face and accept a loss on such a grand scale that /they/ have experienced... i can only hope their tragedy is something #i'll never have to face myself #n then drk stuff here — 'the freedom to follow your heart' #'sacrifice is to renounce that which binds you' & 'to recognize that which matters—and forsake all that does not' #he 'knows you cannot continue to carry all these burdens. heed his warning before it is too late' #the pent-up anger of the wol here is a feeling i know all too well. to face such injustice and find no closure to prevent anymore bleeding.. #'—yearning to be free. to set you free. you need only ask' #drk rlly speaks out to me in a sense that i struggle with a kind of 'dark' or other side as well #hmmm. the actual jpn dialogue offers more meaningful insight as well. i'll read those fan translations again soon #ahhh the lore i wrote here for my wol in relation to her white rose. i rmber the flower language i researched n the symbolisms i thought of #n i have like several paragraphs here of 'lore' for my wol but i see how it uh. painfully reflects on me #talking abt burdens and trust and distance and loneliness and. 'when she faltered all she knew was to keep on going' #these dynamics i wrote for my wol w charas r cute #the contrast i have here with emet n the exarch is sad #oh n that scene with emet. some notes i have are 'remember' 'GOD I CRIES THERE HES SO LONELY' #n i write of finding comfort in remembering. in the abyss. in the familiarity #n ryne here... 'her words to ryne' 'touched me so badly' 'its what i want'. uhuh. i will not read anymore i will breakdown if i do

[zweetpea]

Freedom or Anarchy? Part 2 of 2

Cw: cringe, swears, innuendos. Mondstadt arc has concluded. Next chapter will hopefully be out by Monday. (Expect Monday or Tuesday)

‘Where am I?’

‘What happened to me?’

‘I wanna go home!’

“Time to get up.” You hear someone call. The voice sounds familiar, deep and most likely male (you don’t want to assume). 

You open your eyes and see blue. You’re still groggy from Albedo’s tea so you can’t really stand. Someone picks you up, supporting you under your legs and you back. 

‘Hang on, if this is Mondstadt… the only man with blue here is.’ “Kae…ya?” You say groggily. 

“She speaks… or are you a he? Hard to tell.” He sets you down on a couch in an office.

“This is the terrorist Albedo gave us?” Lisa asks. You can’t quite move but you aren’t as tired as before. 

“We’ll have to tie… him? Her? …Ah up! Tie up the terrorist.” Jean says. 

“Them… I’m gender fluid. I go by them. Sometimes I’m a he, sometimes I’m a she. But my pronouns are always them.”

“Well, at least we’re getting answers.” Lisa giggles. 

You say as Kaeya binds your wrists and ankles with rope. You lean forward onto him and whisper to only him. “Tighter, daddy~” 

“Sky, where did you say that Light and Paimon ran off to?” Kaeya asks, embarrassed and blushing. 

“We’ve met Barbatos, they went off to find him.” Aether says. That’s right, the twins didn’t tell anybody their real names. 

“We’re back! And we’ve brought a friend!” Paimon cheers. 

“Obviously this goes without saying but no one can mention this man’s true identity, okay.” Jean states with a harsh tone that you’ve never heard from her before. Everyone nods, except for you. 

Venti walks towards you and you look at him. “Are you the one Celestia fears?” 

“I have no idea what that means.” 

“The descender, the honored one, the adored one. Do any of these names ring a bell?” 

“No?” 

“Do not lie to me! Albedo said-” 

“Why the F you lyin’~ why you always lyin’~” 

“…” 

“Sorry I have a tendency to reference memes and vines. I’m Gen Z, it’s a part of who we are. I’m kidding, I think that’s just me.” 

“So the Adored One has a name, Jen.”

“No that’s-” 

“And these “Me-ms” and “vines” must be your sacred texts! You’re a nature spirit aren’t you!”

“No! And for the record I don’t think you are a god!” 

“Wow, the honored one looks down upon me.” 

“Boys, Girls, and squirrels, listen up! Because I’ll only say this once. I’m not from this world. I want to go home. The world I come from none of you are real.” 

“Honored one, saying “Boys, Girls, and squirrels” doesn’t help your claim that you aren’t a nature spirit.” 

“Oh for Shucks sake. Actually can I swear in here? I don’t think so. Hell! Bullshit! Kaeya’s tight Ass! Lisa’s big boobies! Mmhmm boobies~” you start to laugh maniacally. “I need to be put in a mental hospital.” 

“Oh for the love of-” Lumine cuts herself off and goes up to you then shakes your. “Pull yourself together long enough for us to get answers.” 

“Right, right. I’m just a college kid who majored in computer science and engineering. The world I come from you all are a game and I hacked into your code which brought me here. That “Boys, Girls, and squirrels” comment comes from a YouTuber I watch semi frequently.”

(A/n: Danny Motta is his name. He’s pretty funny. Go check him out) 

“How’d you heal Stormterror then.” Aether asked. 

“The sustainer of heavenly principles gave me her powers.” 

“So… none of us are real?” Amber asks. 

“Well, I don’t know how I’d be here if you guys weren’t real but to me you’re just a game. Any of you can be killed and revived at the Statue of the Seven.” 

“I suppose that does poke holes in my credibility as an archon.” Venti twiddles his thumbs. 

“Can I please leave now? I can take Dvalin with me and we can just leave.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. If Stormterror is still enraged we can’t let him destroy other nations. It could spark an all out war.” Jean says. 

“What if we let them stay at that broken down building?” Aether suggests. 

“I still think that we should keep Jen here just in case Stormterror gets any more ideas about attacking Mondstadt.” 

“So we use Jen as a bargaining chip?” Lumine chimes in. 

“Exactly.” 

“Okay if you guys are going to call me Jen can you at least make it Gen with a G? I want to be different.” 

“But Jean! Isn’t that basically asking Stormterror for a fight?” 

“Amber’s right Jean. If we’re going to keep them here we’ll need a plan to tame Stormterror.” Lisa says. 

“I’ll tame him.” Venti says assuredly. “We just have to keep them here long enough for me to calm him down.” 

“BARBATOS!” Dvalin calls from outside. “GIVE ME BACK WHATS MINE!” 

“Everyone! To your stations! Protect the city at all costs!” Jean shouts and everyone rushes from the room. 

“Shit! I have to get out of here!” 

“Master Jean! I’m scared!” Klee runs into the office. 

“Klee! Perfect timing, I’m your brother’s friend.”

“Your big brother Albedo’s friend? Why are you tied up?” 

“It’s a long story. Right now I need you to untie me so I can save everyone.” 

“You can do that? I don’t know, usually only bad people are tied up.” 

“No no! Klee it’s more complicated. You want to save Albedo and Jean and Kaeya, Lisa, Amber, Razor and everyone else right? Then you have to untie me so I can make Stormterror go away.” 

“How do I know that you aren’t lying?” 

‘If gold knows me. Chances are Alice will too.’ “Your mom knows me. I’m the adored one. You can ask her about me.” 

“Mom knows you?”

“Yeah, and you know about Albedos secret lab in the mountains right? I’ve been there. He told me about how much he cared about you.” 

“You’ve gone there?! You really do know Albedo. Okay!” She comes over and unties you. 

“Thanks.” You go over to the window, open it up and shout. “Dvalin!” He comes rushing to you at your cry and you jump out the window and grab onto his tail. 

He flies towards the woods and you land in a stone arena. “Andrius! I need a favor.” 

“What could the East Wind possibly want from me?” 

“Protect the Adored one at all costs. 

“How can this puny human be the Adored one?”

As the two bicker you quietly sneak away. As you climb out of the arena you stop when you see black boots and look up. 

“Who are you.” Diluc looks down at you. 

“I am iron man.” 

“Iron man?” Dvalin roses as he and Andrius start to brawl. 

“Can you get me out of here?” 

“Are you the one rumored to have healed Stormterror?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Come on.” He grabs your arm and hoists you up. He then picks you up and throws you over his shoulder and starts to run. 

“Hey! Am I just a sack of potatoes to you?” 

“Quiet down or they’ll hear us.” He runs and runs until you two get to a water bank. “Follow this past west and you’ll be in Liyue.” He tells you as he sets you down. 

“Oh wow. My own dark knight. How romantic. Well for saving the fair ward of the dragon you get a kiss, as a reward.” 

“No thank you.” He grimaces at you. 

“Oh come on! I was promised debauchery! You’re no fun.” 

“Just leave.” 

“Thanks for saving me! I’m coming back for that kiss though!” You say as you run off. 

‘Hot dragon archon here I come! Please be like a lizard and have two co-‘

#sagau #sagau x reader #sagau cult au #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin x you #sagau genshin #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #kaeya x reader #lisa x reader #venti x reader #amber x reader #aether x reader #lumine x reader #diluc x reader #dvalin #andrius #klee #genshin cult au #genshin crack

[hazbinshusk]

For the game

Husk: bondage.

No | rather not | dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Husk is all for enthusiastic participation during sex - he wants to feel your body arch up against his when he thrusts into you, feel your thighs squeeze around his hips as he fucks you or his ears while he eats you out. And he loves to feel your hands on him -- clutching at his arms and his shoulders as you cum, carding through his fur as you grope at him, teasing over his wings as you ride his lap.

So, he's big on the freedom of movement during sex... but that's not to say he doesn't enjoy bondage from time to time. Have you begging helplessly under him to let you touch? Yes. Hearing you whine and whimper such pretty 'please's just for the chance to touch him the way he's teasing you? God, yes.

Plus... the way the ropes look so pretty criss-crossing over your skin? He may not be too interested in full body, more restrictive shibari, but the binds that cross over your chest and stomach? Husk will be more than eager to show his appreciation for the artform.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

p.s.: for those who haven't seen it here's a fic about reader cuffing husk.

send me a kink and a who (husk, blitzø or me) and I'll tell you how much they like it.

#w1ngsofwax #asks #ask game #husk posting #husk headcanon #husk x reader

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

-"ah shit here we go again" gif here-

vampire spawn!tav x Astarion

Rated: M

Warnings: vampirism, manipulation, oral (male receiving), corruption kink

Vampires do not know love, vampires only know possession and control. It is in their nature to dominate, to consume, and to kill. Love was taken from these creatures the moment they unnaturally obtained immortality. Immorality follows as one with supernatural power and charms starts to care less about the consequences, they become selfish creatures.

Yet, you are by far the most infuriating kind of vampire he has ever met. When he saw you attempt to feed (before you found out he is a vampire), you were trembling as you held a mouse in your hands. Fangs not even completely bared and tears in those pretty eyes, you released the mouse and sat outside of camp with only the moon as your companion.

It infuriates him because you are fighting against your nature, fighting a battle you will only lose over and over again. Better to embrace reality than pretend to live in a world where everything can be solved by the Gods and love.

Yet… It becomes part of the reason why he wants you.

Maybe he wants to see how long you can keep this up. Maybe he wants to corrupt you himself— The latter being far more fun.

But alas, he cannot have you completely to himself when there are others around.

Everyone seems to have their clingy paws on you like dogs to their master— Like that damn white dog you found. Astarion much prefers the owlbear, as it can bring back some offerings or whatever. At first, he thought this was part of some plan: make everyone trust you, feed on them, maybe kill a few of them at some point. Of course, maybe you adjusted the plan once it is found out that the journey requires everyone in order to reach the source of these tadpoles.

No, turns out you genuinely want friends— Which is weird and is going against his own plan. Yes, he is using you— You should know better as a vampire to trust another vampire. Charming and teasing his way with sweet words into your thoughts, a mentor-like way of teaching you vampirism, and the physical touches of a man so gentle he has more than once left you flustered.

He nearly has you wrapped around his finger.

But alas, you are not alone.

Shadowheart though does not outright say it, her mannerisms are protective of you. Karlach even more so and outright says it. Wyll is… Too textbook gentleman and heroic. Lae'zel had straight out said she wants a taste of you; both respect and lusting for you, while remaining as friendly as her kind can be. Gale, a friend and teacher as you start to hone your arcane talents.

All of them with their paws out eager for you; none have your attention like he does.

The vampire spawn may not be able to isolate you but he can draw you in. Like a butterfly in a spider's web.

Astarion knows this, he knows how to hook you in and reel you close to his side. It is his very nature to be seductive; to whisper sweet nothings, to make empty promises, to drain everything given to him dry.

"Please," You say between quickening breaths, "Show me." Above him with his blood on your lips, claws (trimmed down to be a normal shape) digging into his chest. Desperate. You want so bad it is drawing out that beast within.

Where he wants to devour, taint you, utterly ruin you—And he is.

Your first, that one piece of yourself that your master did not claim, is given to Astarion. Though he clearly is a charlatan who will use you, he also is the only one who understands the need: trading one hunger for another. Curiosity and a way to free you from something that can be stolen by your master.

Through him, you find freedom; unaware you are binding yourself to a creature who only knows deception, possession, and control.

You touch his chest, exploring the flesh of a vampire and a lover. Maybe a lover, you will not assume he truly loves you but you trust him enough with this. With the only thing your master never stole from you during your captivity.

"Relax, my sweet," His hands seem bigger than yours, his fingers have calluses yet his hands are soft, graceful. You take a deep breath and resume mapping out a body that is not yours— Hells, you don't know your own body like how you want to know his. Pale, cold, and yours to touch.

"There just like that." Purring out his praise as you gain the boldness to kiss his chest, he smirks at the way your eyes light up when he moans when you bravely take a chance to bite his skin. "Lower." You nod as you kiss your way down between his open legs, hands trembling then feel his hands touch and guide them to slip off his trousers and undergarment. "Slowly, no need to rush."

The eagerness is definitely there and your mouth is warm, there is such a charm to how you try to mimic what a few novels barely grasp.

The raw unadulterated lust.

Those red eyes gazing up at him, mouth leaving his cock for the moment as he sits up to show you how to stroke his cock. You listen, you copy, then you try different paces and your mouth once again. 

"With how excited you are to let me in your mouth, I wonder how long you wanted to try this." Amused by your inexperienced desire, "Use your tongue," His hand petting your hair, "Up and down." Moaning with clear delight and approval.

His hand weights your head down signaling for you to go further down, and see how much you can fit before choking.

Of course, not a lot but you try anyway even though you had to pull away to stop from choking. Didn't stop you from stroking his cock or trying again.

"Good pet." Oh, you hummed around his cock at such a small praise. "Do you like being called my pet?" You don't need to answer, you know by that grin on his face he already knows. "My pet, I am going to fuck your mouth now." Playing with your hair before gripping it in a firm vice.

You try to relax your throat like he advised before this, easier said than done.

#fanfiction #reader insert #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x tav

[heartpiratedrabbles]

Buggy's love

Prompt: Buggy has given you more and more freedom until one night he forgets to lock you up.

Buggy X Reader

You weren’t sure how long you had been on this ship, the last time you had been on land. You were sure that at some point the crew had docked, the ship got quiet at times, much less rocking than normal. But you weren’t allowed to the deck. With the clown captain taking particular interest in you, you were kept close to his quarters, barely venturing further than the kitchen or his office.

         Most of the time chains kept you to the confines of the captains’ rooms, long enough to reach anything you could need but short enough to not be able to get anything to escape. At one point the shackles had allowed you access of the entire room, but one daring attempt of breaking them had been reprimanded with a punishment and a shorter chain.

The silent anger he showed when he had come to find you wondering his room, looking for a way to escape the room after breaking the chains. Binding your wrists together behind you and blindfolding you for hours positioned in a way that you could only kneel comfortably, not letting you feel any sort of comfort, always on edge.

         He made it very clear he wouldn’t sleep with you until you asked, yet there were times when you wished he would cross the line, make it easier to hate him over the gentle caresses that made your mind dizzy. His words filling your mind before disappearing for god knows how long, the silence and lack of sight driving you insane before you’d feel a ghost of a brush against your thigh to make you aware you weren’t alone. You didn’t think the punishment would rock your mind when it began, but the longer you were deprived of anything, the more you craved the sweet touches you had groan use to at night. The gentle massages and cuddles being heaven compared to wondering if you were going insane or if someone was actually watching you suffer.

         The topping on the cake was when you had woken up, still in the same position, and thrashed a bit, crying at the lack of anything before you heard the broken words from the man you shared the room with. “It hurts me doll, to see you like this,” The soft whispers sending your head whipping in the direction of the noise until you started begging him to touch you, to hug you, anything, that you promised to be good as long as you could feel him, and he’d always comply.

         Every punishment came praise and sweet kisses to your temple, gentle rubs on anywhere that ached. Buggy would often spend the next day with you, ignoring work to make sure you were alright. And you were more than happy to have to company, the comfort of someone.

         Every now and then you were permitted to roam with someone watching you, and with good behavior you had convinced Buggy to allow you to roam with at least the illusion of privacy. IE whoever was in charge of you at the time would keep their distance but still had you within their sights. It had taken some questionable tactics.

         “Buggy, please?” You ask, your legs straddling him, your arms wrapped around his neck. “I promise I’ll be good,” You whispered into his ear, before nibling his earlobe, trailing your lips down his jawline before finding their way to his lips, “Isn’t it a hassle to have to dismiss them when I’m with you? Why not have them far enough that it wouldn’t matter?”

         The clown had his hands on your hips and was trying to ignore your behavior, but he was turning to putty quicker than he could think. Agreeing as long as you remembered the rules of your new found freedom. You could tell he truly did care for you in his own weird way.

~~~

         The memories flowed through you as you rested your chin on your hand, “Hey babe?” you soft whisper as you glanced over at the pirate captain who had somehow convinced you to love him. Sure, the beginning of the relationship was rocky, with all the confinement, but he did keep his word, and clearly stated things that had to be followed. Not a single time had he lied to you, nor did he ever mistreat you in the confines of his rules.

         Buggy was snoring in bed, still in his clothes for the day. You perked up at this, it wasn’t a normal occurrence that he’d pass out so quickly, much less before making sure the door was locked and your anklet was on. He trusted you, but he had admitted to trust issues himself, so it would remain at night when he couldn’t watch you.

         Yet here you were, door unlocked and no chain connecting you to this room, no warden keeping you in place either. Your heart beat faster looking around, this certainly wasn’t normal. You walk over to his sleeping body, his face paint starting to get on the pillow underneath him before you grabbed a damp clothes to get most of it off him.

         You learned a while ago, when Buggy started trusting you with more freedom, that he loved to be taken care of. And something in your heart made you want too, his praises of how good you were made you tick happily in your daily life, and seeing him sleep softly was a sight for sore eyes, a vulnerability few if any saw.

         You look around for a second after getting most of his makeup off. The bags under his eyes revealing just how tired he truly was, you whisper his name to see if he’d wake up to no avail. Eyeing the door before taking the steps out of the room.

~~~

         Buggy woke up with a loud snore, startling himself into an up right position. He didn’t remember when he fell asleep but by the looks of it, it hadn’t been too long. Glancing around the room to find his doll his heart stopped realizing it was empty. He immediately stood, running to the bathroom door in the corner to see if you were just out of view.

         His anxiousness rotating from fear to anger and back to fear as he thinks of all the possibilities. Ripping the door to the hallway open and running towards the stairwell. Cursing himself for not locking the door, for falling asleep, for not keeping you locked up as he took the stairs two at a time.

         If he finds you. No, when he finds you, he’ll make it clear just who is really in charge here. He must have given you too much freedom to quickly, you must have pulled some stupid trick. He was to trusting of you, fell to easily for your weak promises and sweet words to listen.

         It wasn’t too long; you can’t have gotten far. If he was lucky, you were probably still stumbling on deck looking for a way to escape. It’s a place he had never allowed you to explore. The thought eased his mind slightly as he rounded the corner, nearly running into someone.

         “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Your soft words gripped him as he finally looked down to see you, holding a trey of snacks and two drinks. “Buggy? What’s wrong? Why are you in such a hurry?” Your questions hitting him like a brick wall as he finally breathes out again.

         “Doll, where’d you go?” He whimpered out slightly, grabbing either of your arms as brought his head closer to yours to make sure it was really you. Your doe-like eyes staring right back up to him, without a single realization of what you had done to him, without realizing what you could have done, a hand floating to your cheek.

         “I was grabbing us something to eat, you seemed more tired than normal and I didn’t want to wake you.” Your words like honey as you lean into his touch, “Was I gone for too long? I’m sorry…”

         Buggy seemed to relax at the sight before him, his sweet little doll coming to get him snacks. It was more than his heart could take while your head rested in his hand, a gentle gaze towards him. “Just had a nightmare darling, nothing for you to worry about,” He hummed while grabbing the trey from your hand, “Lets head back yea?” You nodded in agreement, trailing in front of him until you reached your shared room once again. He supposed maybe he could allow you to roam around a bit more if it made you happy.

#Buggy #Buggy X Reader #One Piece #One Piece X Reader

[thewitchoftheweed]

Who Betrayed Who? A Cult of the Lamb analysis/theory.

The Bishops and TOWW give the Lamb conflicting accounts of the events leading up to the schism. So what actually happened? Who betrayed who? And why? I have a theory.

Let’s start with what they each say regarding the schism and the decision to imprison TOWW.

According to Shamura:

“Our brother, The One Who Waits. Back then he was known by the name Narinder. But as millennia wore on, he grew discontent with his role. He began to question. He was gluttonous in his ambition. And in my imprudence I loved him. For it, I lost my mind. For it, he lost his freedom. Can you fathom such betrayal, Lamb? Of your own turned against you? Would you like to find out?”

“The blame hangs heavy 'round my neck. I introduced him to ideas of change; for my domain is knowledge, and it is ever evolving. An organic state of being for myself, but for him... most unnatural. Death cannot flow backward. It was I who had him chained.”

According to Heket:

"It was not so long ago that we cast out the Red Crown. A mere thousand or so years. The heresy it preached could not be tolerated. Such noxious ideals... it could not be allowed. For this most damning of sins, the retribution must be slow and painful...And with greed and ambition unchecked, it drew Godly blood."

According to Kallamar:

“Please know, it was not my idea to cast out the Red Crown! The other Bishops, my siblings, the blame lies with them.”

And finally, according to The One Who Waits:

“You see me here in chains, reduced to nothing. But it has not always been thus. I was bound to this wretched place by the Bishops of the Old Faith. They betrayed me and left me to rot. Each of the four chains that bind me are guarded by one of the Bishops.”

All of them are vague about what exactly went down. The only other hint we have comes from the monument by the gates: “Here godly blood was spilled. Here Death no longer wished to wait.”

So: what actually happened?

Haro has some answers. He gives us some insight to TOWW prior to the split:

"He was unalike the rest of his kin. While others dealt with flux; chaos, famine, pestilence, war. Things in which their constancy must transpose. And yet he was the inevitable; the obstinate and irresistible. The one who waits. Truly peculiar, 'twould then seem, has appetency to invite the novel and the new, break ancient vow and primordial bond alike. Traditions stagnate and appetites augment, nonetheless. Doubt tears faith asunder."

Along with:

"Bonds of familial duty, turned instead to chains. Most voracious of appetites, curbed and contained. Most infectious of ideas cut off and cauterised before given chance to rot and spread. Cruel, verily. Alas, what other recourse was given? How does one kill Death? ... Alas. One cannot."

Haro is, as far as we know, an impartial observer to what happened. (I think based on his dialogue and seemingly intimate knowledge of the conflict, he witnessed it— but that’s a whole different post.) So his account is the closest thing we have to a neutral perspective.

From Haro we learn two key things, both of which are confirmed by Shamura and Heket’s dialogue:

1. Narinder was dissatisfied with his role amongst the Bishops. He was naturally curious and ambitious, while his domain was the only “static” one among them. In essence— he was bored, restless, and potentially feeling undervalued.

2. He was imprisoned to prevent a heresy from spreading. Which heresy? The monument and Shamura’s comments make it clear: “Here Death no longer wished to wait.” “Death cannot flow backward.” Resurrection was the unforgivable heresy.

Narinder realized that each of his siblings, whether they recognized it or not, had dual domains. Kallamar’s followers prayed for protection from pestilence, Heket’s prayed for protection from famine. They could presumably give health/fertile fields as well as inflict the opposite on heretics. Leshy's chaos could have become order, but as a "young" god, he hadn't yet reached that point. Shamura has two separate domains entirely, wisdom and war.

Narinder just had death. Static, never-changing, and irritating for someone who enjoyed the “novel and new.” I think the fact he’s a cat reinforces this. There’s even a colloquialism about it: “Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.”

After serving his role, he became restless. Shamura then encouraged him to experiment with his domain, by their own admission. Perhaps they didn’t actually think Narinder would succeed, or perhaps they felt bad he was stuck in a static domain when it didn’t suit his personality. The result was catastrophic in the eyes of the Bishops: Narinder gained power over both life and death.

Why was this such a damnable heresy that it destroyed their family? A few reasons: the ✨Prophecy✨ Shamura (presumably) received, the implications of resurrection in the world of CotL, and what I think might be pre-existing divides within their family. This is where we start to delve into personal headcanons and theories, so hang in there for a second:

Narinder is the most powerful of his siblings. Full stop.

He is the hardest boss fight by far, even though he’s been chained for a millennia. You could argue that he’s empowered by the Lamb’s/cult’s devotion, but there’s a key flaw there: he imprisons the cult during the final battle, and blatantly turns against the Lamb. All devotion from the cult vanishes in that moment because the followers are very clearly pulling for the one fighting to save them: the Lamb.

So, Narinder was powerful. The most powerful. Perhaps he became the God of Death because he was instrumental in killing other gods prior to their ascension. He had a clear interest in necromancy and the world beyond, if we can assume the necromantic weapons are his. (Which they are strongly implied to be by their item descriptions.) So when they ascended, he had a fascination with death and was probably very, very good at killing— so Death initially made sense as his domain. However, Narinder was curious and creative and restless. He eventually got bored and likely began to resent his family. The most powerful of the Bishops, not capable of doing anything but waiting.

Then there was the family dynamic. Kallamar was afraid of Narinder. Heket seems antagonistic towards him. Leshy didn’t seem to have much of a relationship with him. So it’s entirely possible that resentment could have eventually led to a betrayal on Narinder’s part. But one thing held him back: Shamura.

I think Narinder was beginning to drift from his family, but turned to his eldest sibling because he still had great love for them. Shamura encouraged him to experiment, which was ultimately successful— one can presume he was intensely proud of discovering resurrection. He saw it as his crowning achievement and his way of finally leveling the scales between the five of them.

His siblings saw it differently. In the world of CotL, willing and unwilling sacrifices directly feed a god's power. Resurrection, perhaps in their minds, cheapened or weakened this power. Or, if we go with the theory that Narinder was the objective strongest, resurrection made him so powerful it scared them. If he can essentially grant eternal life to his followers, what’s to stop him from usurping our worship entirely? What's to stop a god of life and death from doing away with the others?

I think the prophecy was Shamura’s attempt to calm Heket, Kallamar, and Leshy’s fears regarding the discovery. Perhaps they had a way of divining the future— and received the aforementioned ✨Prophecy✨.

In turn, it convinced Shamura that the only way to preserve the majority of their family would be to get rid of Narinder. Haro’s dialogue strongly implies they discussed outright killing him, but realized given his domain it would be impossible. Imprisoning him was the only alternative, the only way to keep word of resurrection from spreading.

So. Who pulled the trigger first? Did Narinder actually plan to usurp his siblings, and the Bishops stopped him before he could? Or did Shamura completely blindside their brother?

I think the truth lies somewhere in the middle. I believe a betrayal was inevitable. Had the Bishops forbid resurrection and then left Narinder to his own devices, his resentment and pride probably would have eventually won out. Most of the affection they had for each other as mortals was beginning to wane, in part because they already seemed to look at him as a threat. If you treat someone like a loaded weapon, eventually they’ll decide to become one.

But I think at the true moment of the betrayal, it was Shamura.

They admit to being the one who made the final call, and also the one who encouraged him to experiment resurrection to begin with. Narinder was the closest to them in personality, and they seem to be the closest out of the five. (Some have even pointed out that TOWW chose not to watch Shamura fall to the Lamb— his dialogue as a follower implies he doesn’t know what their last moments were like, though he happily watched the others fall through the Crown.)

The most damning piece of evidence in my mind of Shamura being the true betrayer is the nature of their injury: Narinder split his favorite sibling’s skull.

The only one who outright says they loved him deeply. Because Narinder loved them, too, and in the moment of betrayal the worst of his pain and rage was directed at them. The one sibling he never thought would be capable of doing that to him. The one sibling who encouraged him to take this path, then brutally punished him for it.

As Shamura says, the two of them paid the heaviest price. The blame hangs heavy around their neck, because Shamura — the eldest and wisest of their family — set them all on the path of complete destruction.

Narinder, to me, is an excellent Lucifer allegory. Some will look at his very clear pride and say he deserved it— others will point out his true crime was challenging the existing status quo and trusting the person he loved most to listen.

#cult of the lamb #cotl spoilers #cult of the lamb spoilers #cult of the lamb theory #cotl narinder #cotl shamura #cotl bishops #narinder #shamura #the one who waits #the bishops #tbf i am a narinder apologist bc I love a good Lucifer allegory and Byronic character #and I would argue he fits both #excited to see if we get any additional characterization or information in the update #my posts #i think about this game way too much

[pynkgothicka]

Ｇｅｎｅｒａｌ Ｙａｎｄｅｒｅ ＧＯＷ Ｈｅａｄｃａｎｏｎｓ

Synopsis - Just some general Headcanons for one of my favorite game series and characters!!

Tags and Warnings - Harm Towards the Reader, that's all I got.

Authors Note - THIS IS SO CRINGE (please don't unfollow me I'm going through a phase (I'm working on BTS reqs rn I swear))

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

Kratos

Literally is known for killing, and will gladly do it again

Your like family to him and he's seen too many of those he considered family betray him and die

Pre Norse Kratos would be at his absolute worst peak. Any little thing would result in someone else dying.

Looked at you wrong? Cut in Half.

Someone told you something? Eyes Gouged out.

And the worst someone did to you the more serious Kratos would punish them, or really kill them.

His rage is met with something that calms him, makes him feel grounded, aka you.

But my god is he gentle with you, no matter what. He touches you almost like you'd break if he used anymore force.

Even with the little words he uses when talking to you, he truly loves and cares for you. All he wants is for that love to be recognized and given back to him.

But one thing for sure, Kratos kidnaps you. Just to keep you in his sights and a place he knows and can see you whenever

Post Norse Kratos is much more pleasant to be around. He's more stern, more calm, much more approachable, even if needing a much more deeper urge too.

Plus if your good with Atreus, that only makes things better. He sees that maternal aspect in you instantly

However no matter what he keeps is past closer off to you because he doesn't want you to think any different of him.

(HE LOVES BIG WOMEN GUYS I SAID IT. HE GOT TOO. (all his dead wives are skinny (let me be delusional)))

You yelled out running into the middle of of snow. It was freezing cold but you couldn't stop anytime soon. Or else you'd be trapped back in that house, never to see the light of day.

You heard him.

Heavy, labored breaths behind you.

You ducked down behind a rock, trying to slow your breathing. This was hopeless, but you had to Atleast try. Maybe Freya would help you or something, she does a have a thing against your captor.

“Do you wish to die out here.”

A hand went to your mouth, refusing to give in to the fear that overtook you.

“You cannot survive the cold. Come back. Do you not want to be home? With us?”

His footsteps grew louder, he knew what he was. He was intimidating, scary, deep down a killer.

And did he know how to use those aspects to his advantage.

A hand grabbed at your ankle and you were pulled up by your foot. You made direct eye contact with the wall of muscle that you'd grown to fear. His breathing was labored but he took a deep breath in, and sling you over onto his shoulder.

“We are to talk about this later. Understand?”

All you could do was sob silently and nod your head.

Freya

Man when I tell you shes reminded of what love feels like, she is reminded hard.

She's already broken, having almost everything taken away from her by Odin. But you mend those tears in her soul, binding them shut with your mere existence.

Freya would've instantly been drawn to you, seeing as all you wish to do is care for the people around you, being free from Odin's eye, as your inconsequential to him

She would grow to envy your freedom, as you traveled the realms as freely as you wished. Your absence would plague her, growing to be that without you she feels empty.

And it gets worse after Bauldur dies.

Once he's gone you flee quickly seeing what she's turned into. Fueled by rage and regret, she would have these outbursts of just heavy emotion. And so you left, avoiding Midgard at all costs.

It wouldn't be long until she finds you, being free from her curse. Freya would tackle you to the ground and capture you, vowing go nrver let you out of her sights again.

And she doesn't, she wants you to either be locked up and with her. And majoirty of the time it's with her. She wants a new spouse, someone to actually call her love and mean it.

“There you are!”

You were tackled to the ground, bound by vines that were never apart of the vegetation of the realm you called home.

The sight of a angered Freya came into view as your eyes opened. Her breathing was labored as she moved her hands, the vines still keeping you stuck. Her hands came to your cheek and you winced at her cold touch. A paled man stood over in the distance watching silently.

“Your just as beautiful as the day you left…” She mumbled to herself bringing your attention back to her. Freya's hands pressed against your cheeks as she leaned in, kissing your forehead passionately. The action almost mimicked a mother, trying to clam her new born baby.

But this wasn't the situation for that.

“Freya please we can tal-”

“So you know how much you hurt me?! You left me alone. Alone with my thoughts, I spiraled without you.” She yelled at you. This is one of the reasons you left in the first place, her mood can switch so easily. “But that's in the past, and all I care for is the future. One where you and me spend eternity together.”

Atreus (But in a platonic crushing way cause ya know he a minor)

He's crazy, literally whipped for you. He's considers you to be his best friend, and does a bunch of harmless flirting.

Of course he thinks your pretty, one of the prettiest people he's ever encountered and has he seen some things. But he knows that staying friends keeps him happier, and less stressed

Being a mortal really didn't help your case, if anything it made Atreus more protective of you and your safety.

Any situation he deemed to dangerous and unsafe for you, he'd make you stay behind (he takes after his father a lot.)

You often are the subject to which he vents too, it's rather unintentional, everything that's happened and is currently happening to him is just so stressful. And god knows he couldn't vent to his father or Sindri.

He has this thing for showing you the world through his eyes. Like he'll tell you what animals are saying and how they're just like him and you. The beauty of nature is something he just has to show you

One thing that's worrisome is how impulsive he is. He's so quick to stand his guard and protect you when it comes to you and your safety. Key example is Heimdall, in which he never liked. Atreus hates how the blonde talks to you, in fact he would immediately pull out the wolf when Heimdall even mentions you.

Off note, Atreus will bring you to Asgard with him. No matter what you say he'll want you to be there with him. His excuse is that you'd make a great duo, but in reality he doesn't want to be alone.

“What is wrong with you!? Your trying or at least considering to go to Asgard?!” You yelled once inside of Freya's abandoned house.

“Its the next best lead I have. But I need you to go with me, I can't do it alone.” Atreus said as if it was the most simple thing ever. You furrowed your brows at the half god.

“Let me break it down for you. I'm a mortal. A mortal in a realm built for gods? Yeah your fucking crazy. Oh let me add this. I'm a child, your a child, WE'RE CHILDREN!"

“I'd say young adults, shit maybe teenagers. But the thing is we have to, we have to save my dad.” Atreus tried to reason with you.

“Since when is it a WE thing? Atreus this is your prophecy not mine. Hell not even Atreus, this is Loki's prophecy."

“Wait don't go I need you!”

“Goodbye Loki.”

“No!” He yelled before shooting a arrow at your arm, cut forming at your forearm. You hissed out and grabbed at the wound, the cold hitting your blood. “Your not going anywhere hurt like that. Step out there and the cold will infect the wound. If you come with me, Odin can heal you.”

“I'm-”

“Make a choice.”

“Fine. I'll go….”

#dark writing #tw dark content #tw yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere blog #gow ragnorak #GOW #god of war #yandere kratos #yandere freya #yandere atreus #god of war ragnorak #yandere gow #yandere god of war #yandere headcanons

[dragonwritersblog]

Safe and Sound

Funnybunny Week Day Six: Escape . “Jax?” “Hey sweetie,” he confirmed, “Sorry I took so long.” “You’re here,” she gave him a watery smile, “You came back for me.”

Read on AO3

Hey guys, sorry for being a day late, I was really exhausted after rehearsals the whole week so I wanted to have the day off. This one is also gonna be a lot heavier than the last few ones so please keep that in mind before going into this. Stay safe <3.

.

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound - Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift

.

Everyone was out, everyone was free, everyone was done with this nightmare. Except for her.

It was a glitch in the system, a bug from Kinger’s collection that proved to be an actual ‘game bug’. Everything after was a blur, seeing an exit door, ignoring Caine begging them to stay, actually leaving and feeling their physical bodies again for the first time in years.

But then there was the march of people, their faces covered with masks and dressed in bulletproof uniforms. The group had ran, and ran, and ran. But they knew that they couldn’t get far…not without a distraction.

And so, Pomni had stayed behind, giving the others a chance to escape. She could remember someone screaming, telling her not to do this and stay with them. But it was too late, she was already gone.

Now, she was here. Strapped to a hospital bed, with foggy memories and remembering nothing but her circus name. Feeling only loss and hollowness at her closest chance of freedom yet losing it all within a few moments.

It didn’t matter though, everyone else was safe and free, even if it meant she couldn’t be. 

She bit her lip, feeling tears burn in the corner of her eyes. She didn’t dare cry, this was her choice, she couldn’t fuss over it now. 

It was funny, wasn’t it? She was the one so desperate for an exit and finding a way to leave, yet she was the one who was still trapped. Irony was cruel and brutal. 

Her blood froze when she heard the door of the room unlock, shaking and pulling at the straps in an attempt to escape. Three scientists entered the room, ignoring her panicked state as they surrounded her. “Well subject P0-11, I have to say I’m impressed,” one of the doctors observed, “You actually managed to escape our little simulation.”

“You know my name, don’t you!” she spat, “Just say it! I’m not a lab rat!”

“Unfortunately you don’t get a say in that,” the scientist said, “It must be sad, being out of the game yet you still have no idea who you are. How pathetic.”

“Fuck you!” she growled. God it felt good to swear again.

“Regardless, you’re still here and useful to us,” He turned to the other scientists in the room, “Bring it forward.”

Her heart nearly stopped when she saw the other two scientists pick up a headset. Tears started to rush down her cheeks as she thrashed at her binds and screamed enough that it almost made her throat bleed. But she didn’t dare stop. There was no way she would be putting on another headset, in this lifetime or the next.

The first scientist was handed the headset as the other two held Pomni down by her arms. “GET OFF ME!” she screeched, “GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” Without warning, she lunged at them, grabbing at one of their arms with her teeth and bit down hard. 

The second scientist yelped out in pain, clutching their appendage that now started to bleed. “You little bitch!” he growled, gripping her face, “You wanna take that kind of attitude with me! Huh?!”

“Now, now,” the first scientist deadpanned, placing a hand on the second scientist’s shoulder and pushed him away. He sneered as he looked down at Pomni, “Keep a calm head P0-11. It will only get worse from here.”

No, no this couldn’t be how it ends. Not with her being placed into another simulation, with a lower chance of escaping. This couldn’t be how the rest of her life would carry out. She kept thrashing, screaming, doing anything to delay the headset being placed upon her. She squeezed her eyes shut, shutting out the reality of the situation, buying herself the last few seconds of normality she had left…

The sound of a fist meeting flesh and a body hitting the ground was what made her freeze, though she refused to open her eyes. Not until the threat was gone. She heard the crash out metal and two other voices cry out before being silenced as well. 

She could hear footsteps approach her, making her tremble for what could possibly be awaiting her in the light. She whimpered as two soft hands gently cupped her cheeks, wiping away a stray tear that leaked down her cheek.  

“Pomni,” a voice whispered, “It’s me, love.”

It was so familiar. She knew that voice, didn’t she?

“Could you open your eyes for me?” the voice asked, “It’s okay, you’re gonna be alright.”

Pomni found herself opening one eye, a man with a kind face looking down at her with a caring smile. She opened the other one, letting the pieces fit together in her head until the puzzle was fully formed. “Jax?”

“Hey sweetie,” he confirmed, “Sorry I took so long.”

“You’re here,” she gave him a watery smile, “You came back for me.”

Jax moved his hands the the restraints on the bed, “As if I’m gonna let those fuckers take what’s mine.”

“Easy there,” she let out a tired laugh, “Let’s get out of here first.” Everything that had, it felt like such a blur. The escape, the capture, the fear. “I..I thought they…that I was…I thought I was gonna be trapped again.”

She let out a strangled sob, Jax’s hands immediately going back to her cheeks after untying the last restraint to wipe them away again. “Hey, hey, it’s okay I’m here,” he shushed her gently, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “I won’t let anything happen to you, never again.”

She let out another cry, it was all too much, she never felt so relieved and scared than she did right now. Jax scooped Pomni up into his arms, the girl clutching to him tightly as she pressed her face to his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here,” he spoke.

“W-wait! How are we gonna get out of here?!” she panicked, “The guards-”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t come alone,” he told her, “When we got far away enough, we managed to find the folks working on finding us. They’re the reason I was able to get back to you.”

“I wanna go home,” she sniffed. She couldn’t remember home, she didn’t know what she looked like. But right now, in his arms, it felt a whole lot like it.

“Yeah,” he nodded, stroking her arm, “We can go home.”

He passed the hallways, guards in uniforms swarming the halls and taking down the people who had kidnapped and tortured them for years on end in that digital hell. 

For the first time in so long, Pomni felt the fresh air fill her nose the moment Jax stepped out of that building. For the first time, Pomni took a true, real breath. For the first time, Pomni was reminded that she was actually alive. She wasn’t a character in a simulation, to be pushed around like a toy.

She was human and alive .

Jax carried her to a nearby ambulance, not even daring to leave her side once she was placed down on a stretcher and taken to the hospital.

“I’m here,” he whispered, holding her hand and placing a kiss against the back of it, “I’ll always be here.”

Pomni gripped his hand back weakly, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Jax’s eyes widened in surprise at the fact she would guess that, leaning into her face slowly one more time, “For you love, never.”

He sealed that promise by gently pressing his lips against hers, slow, sweet and soft. 

This is it Pomni decided, smiling against Jax’s lips as she let out a comforted sigh.

This is freedom.

#funnybunny #funnybunny week #funnybunny week 2024 #pomnijax #jax x pomni #pomni x jax #jax #pomni #tadc #the amazing digital circus #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #dragon rambles

[aldbooks]

A Strange Melody - Ch 12 - Epilogue

@sunshinebingo

AO3

6 months later

Azriel, long used to seeing in the dark, stared across his pillow on the longest night of the year at his new wife sleeping beside him. Even in the darkness, she seemed to glow softly like the bond humming contentedly in his chest. 

Running his eyes over the soft curves of her freckled face, he thought back to that day on the beach when everything changed…

The sea god’s power was so immense, Azriel could feel it rolling off of him in waves that made even his shadows pause in awe. The man smiled at his mate in an almost fatherly manner before shifting an assessing gaze to Azriel. Amusement lit his hypnotic eyes as he eyed Azriel’s wings. 

“I see the cauldron did not just bless you with a fae mate, but a bird.” Azriel bristled slightly but the sea god just chuckled. “You were always a child of land and sea, my dear,” he continued, his attention back on Gwyn who leaned against Azriel’s chest. Glancing down he saw her delicate brow furrow.

“Your father was a sailor who washed up on this very beach after a storm. Your mother was infatuated with him the first moment she saw him and nursed him back to health. They were quite happy for a time, but inevitably, as all sailors do, he felt the call to return to the sea. He promised to return, and I believe he would have, had his next voyage not been as ill fated as the one that led them to each other.”

He felt Gwyn stiffen in his arm at this news. Azriel was a little shocked himself. She was half fae. What did that mean? She seemed to be just as susceptible to the sea’s magic as any other of her kind. 

“Perhaps the cauldron knew that one day you would wish to leave the sea and gave you a mate to call you to your father’s home,” he looked almost sad as he said this and Azriel wondered again just what sort of relationship Gwyn had with the sea god.

“So I am to split my time between the land and the sea for the rest of my life? That doesn’t seem fair,” Gwyn asked softly. Azriel held her more tightly. He too was dreading having to sacrifice half of his time with his mate to the sea but he would sacrifice anything to have even that little time with her.

The sea god’s smile widened. “Years ago, when you and your sister were first born, your mother came to me and asked a favor…” Azriel stilled, feeling Gwyn do the same.

He had watched in awe as the sea god summoned the golden triton he was so often depicted with, the source of his power, and pointed the tips of its gleaming tines at Gwyn. Shimmering magic filled the air around them, glowing brighter and brighter until it was almost blinding. Gwyn gasped, clutching the arm around her waist and Azriel pulled her more firmly into his chest, blindly shielding them both with his wings until the light faded and they both stared down at… 

Gwyn released a choked sound as she curled her knees up to her chest, lifting one pale foot out of the water. Her toes wiggled experimentally and she laughed, the sound vibrating in his soul like a bell. 

The sea god explained that Gwyn’s mother had discovered when the twins were toddlers that they were able to move between land and sea at will and, after a particularly harrowing incident where Catrin had wandered from the shore of one of the islands and into a village on her own, and their mother had almost run out of time to find her before she was forced to return to the sea, she had come to him asking him to bind their power until they were both of age and better able to protect themselves. She had intended to tell them both of their heritage when they were ready and allow them to make the choice themselves to continue living as the oceanids did, or reclaim their ability to landwalk.

“You are still a child of the sea and will still need to return to these waters from time to time,” he told Gwyn with a pointed look. “But, you will have much more freedom to come and go as you please. And I hope you might occasionally decide to visit an old man now and again…”

The sea god’s eyes softened as Gwyn gave him a teary grin and nodded. “Thank you.”

“It is your birthright, my dear… but I wish you joy, Gwyneth.” His gaze shifted to Azriel who had been too stunned to move for most of the exchange. “Treat her well, Illyrian, or even your own gods will not save you from me.”

Swallowing hard, Azriel had nodded and sworn, “Like the treasure she is.”

Satisfied, the god had bade them farewell and disappeared into the dark depths below. Azriel had quickly wrapped Gwyn in his shirt and flown them back to the palace where he introduced her to his family as his mate and she had been welcomed by them all with open arms.

They had courted properly over the last few months as Gwyn became better acquainted with his home and found a place for herself amongst their court. Azriel had still opted to commission a house to be built on the island where he’d found her again, a place for them to be alone together, especially when Gwyn returned to the sea once a month for more than her daily swim. He had tried once to let her take him below but the inability to use his wings and the strange sensation of breathing underwater had unsettled him and so he contented himself with waiting for her on the shore of their island for her to return.

Finally, they had decided to consummate their bond in a small, intimate ceremony on a night his people deemed sacred, surrounded by their family and friends. After a lively Solstice dinner in which they were repeatedly, and obnoxiously toasted by their loved ones, Azriel had flown them out to the little cottage where they would spend the next month thoroughly consummating that bond.

He’d already taken her multiple times, but even still, his body and that tether in his soul, ached for more. He wondered, as he reached out and gently swept a lock of hair from her face, if he would ever have enough of her.

At his touch, Gwyn stirred, sighing as she blinked her luminescent eyes open and gave him a lazy, satisfied smile. She reached for him in the same moment he did her and they were once again lost to that strange melody that sang between their souls.

#gwynriel #don't mind me completely forgetting about the epilogue 😅

[hail-brod]

A Chance and Beyond (4)

Previous chapter: (Chapter 3)

Next chapter: (Chapter 5)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Loki x FReader

Warning/s: Light angst?, patronizing treatments/mentions, nothing else probably (please tell me if I missed something!)

WC: 3.6k

The Norns must be taunting you for making you feel hopeless. But a little sorcery bonding is nice. Until it leads you somewhere else.

You remember the day when you and Loki exchanged Betrothal rings.

It was a formal celebration to announce your engagement with the prince. In Asgard, it was tradition to publicly officialize the bind of two people, especially when it ought to be an arranged one. It was a way to let people know that, it is a merry day for Asgard's future and for any suitors planning to court you, to lay off. The same is said for the young prince, Loki. Assuming that he does have a flock of maidens eager to get his attention.

He is a prince after all.

As the people of Asgard cheered for your affiance to the god, you and Loki intertwined hands. Just where your rings are. A gesture that contented the All-father more than ever. Even the All-mother glowed with smiles at your courtly showmanship.

And you remember yourself sneaking glances at the older prince.

Thor.

You we're so smitten when you first saw him the day you arrived in Asgard.

But as you stood there beside Loki, you realized it's no more than just a little puppy love at the man. You decided. He was still handsome and charmingly brave in your eyes but you only savored the limited moment you had with such feelings. It was better for you to let go lest you ruin the honor of your family's name.

Everybody knew the crown prince had no eyes for anyone in particular. He was a youthful god with so many choices of fine young maidens to behold. So you just settled for quick glances and far admiration, even more so that you've been chosen to wed his brother.

You didn't mind the deal. Nor did Loki.

He once told you that marriage was just a part of his duty as a royal prince, to heed his father's wishes. Nothing more than just that. It was all in favor for Odin All-father himself. And you don't think you had the right to oppose his wishes.

You're just a simple daughter of a noble from his court, a mere subject of his.

In fact, you we're quite satisfied at the arrangement. It brought prosperity to your household and a high recognition amongst the nobles. And you know your father deserved the title to be a king's in-law. He has done so much for Asgard and your family, as a wise lord and a kind father.

You never thought of marriage before, that's why you never felt bothered to be robbed off of such freedom to choose a husband. You had older brothers that would inherit your father's legacy, so you weren't as much as fussed about by your parents to set off and be a trophy to some entitled lord.

You enjoyed your position. Especially when you're fortunate enough to travel to Vanaheim and learn the ways of sorcery.

That kept you occupied so much for many years.

But to be asked to marry Loki was never much a disappointment to you. A well-trained sorcerer for a husband and a powerful sorceress-witch for a mother-in-law?

I mean, what's there to refuse?

Other people may not have understood it, but the practice of magic in Asgard isn't as well known as compared to the other realms like Alfheim and Vanaheim. So to have these two people within your reach is quite exhilarating to you.

You thought as much.

The celebrative air in the royal hall was far from dying down when you finally landed your eyes to Loki. Who was, at that moment, already grinning teasingly at you. You had to stop your growing irritation from showing in your eyes as you feigned a smile at him. You hated it when he always catches you swooning at a particular prince.

"Are you seriously mooning over Thor rather than me?" he lowly said to you with a tease. "You must really like torturing yourself after saying that you're done with my brother's charm."

"Pardon me," you faintly rolled your eyes and replied equally with playfulness. "but your eyes must be tricking you, my prince."

He huffed. "We'll see about that."

When the banquet hall feast came, he didn't waste a second and brought his dear brother to you, forcing you to an inescapable rounding chat.

Which was quite a surprise on your part. You thought he would have planned something far more despicable under his sleeves, but it seemed like he was feeling humble. Suppose you quietly swooned at the crown prince while the three of you flowed the conversation. But after that, you didn't pass the chance to cast a simple magic trick at Loki while he entertained his lady guests.

Just a silly parlor trick right up his nostrils.

When he felt magic was at hand, probably nose itching to sneeze a thousand times, you provocatively avoided his hidden glares right at your peripheral view as you only smiled at your new chatty guest, intentionally dismissing him.

But you didn't miss the other guests' condescending stares, boring at your fiancé's form, going as far as distancing themselves away from him. Even hearing someone mutter to themselves the words 'immature second son'.

You recognized their ploys. These we're the other half of the Asgardians that didn't favor Loki well, and deemed him as a—rambunctious troublemaker.

They're not wrong, but they do act as if he'd personally wronged them—which he didn't.

As far as you'd known.

But you still also knew that Loki had done some inexcusable things at court—or even as a person.

You had witnessed him betray someone before, even experienced it yourself. Hel, even the first time you met he almost stabbed you. You had fought and insulted each other, but the storm calmed after awhile. Because you had one thing in common: sorcery.

Through sorcery, you picked at each other's abilities. But also through sorcery, you gave each other respect.

Followed by more common grounds, one after another. Until you crossed the border and saw why he acted the way he is. At first, you understood why his people separated themselves from him, despised him—and you still did—but the fact that, all that time, Loki was also trying not to be who they saw him to be. And then still twisted his intentions into something far more malignant.

That's also part of what you despised in their royal court and amongst the people of Asgard. As much as you ogle at the older prince, they make it a point to give all their praises to Thor, and then push back Loki into his brother's shadow. You didn't find the idea sensible at all even before meeting Loki, but you definitely knew courts can never have a time without taunts.

And it bothered you so that it just became natural for them to ridicule and antagonize Loki, even when after he did his best to satisfy their screwed morals.

Ultimately, he can be just a simple prince with so much naught for petty parlor tricks and a clever silver-tongue, ready to pierce one's own. He became bearable to you overtime. And you guess to him, you we're too.

But he's still remarkably good at concealing anything he feels. There's no wonder why he's a master of persuasion and has an adequate amount of patience.

Well, you? Not quite.

You clearly remembered what you did after you felt yourself increasingly get annoyed by the group of snob noblemen, who in fact, was clearly mocking Loki in their heads.

Next moment, one of the man's drink was spluttering out from his own mouth as his disgust was evident on his face. The magic you casted had altered his mead's taste. Though the worst part is, King Odin was standing mere inches in front of him. The man had spat at the king's face, that was enough to get all of the guests' attention.

You knew you we're responsible for it. So you paled.

Even more so when you spot the queen's eyes on you as she lifted her chin up. You saw the glint in her eyes that made you stand up straight.

By Mimir's head, you thought. the queen will behead me.

You know she wouldn't.

You could say she looked amused, but there's no possible way in Urd's well you're excused to be that unrestrained. That was her husband for Bor's sake! You discreetly flew your eyes away from the scene and the All-mother's face, to which then landed on Loki who clearly saw the mishap.

Now both master sorcerers felt what you did and you have never felt so cornered in your whole life.

But you certainly didn't miss the odd look Loki gave you before it contorted into a delighted one. Almost as if he is proud.

"Looks like you'll be given a scolding later by my dear mother." Loki tauntingly whispered to your ear as he neared.

All you can give him was a pleading look and a hesitant, "She wouldn't."

"She would." he said, and lightly laughed. "But she'll probably realize that that sod deserved it."

You only huffed. "Well, he definitely did."

When you glanced back at him, he was already giving you yet again the same odd look. But it quickly disappeared once he met your eyes as he looks away with a faint jovial smile.

You've never seen him so genuinely pleased more than ever.

When you woke up, your heart was heavy.

You sat there on the bed, your breathing lightly quickening as you tried to process something in your mind.

While you stilled, you dryly swallowed and blinked the sleep away, trying to calm yourself down. As soon as you opened your eyes from your slumber, then sat up to orient yourself better, everything you dreamt just started to fade into missing parts of images.

Panic rises up to you.

No...no, don't....

And as your chest kept closing in, you realized you wanted to go back and force yourself to sleep. You felt like you just ended up in a different reality or in an another nightmare that you've lost in, so you desperately grasped for the dream that's slowly slipping away from your fingertips. You pulled your thighs to your chest and buried your head above.

You crumbled. This is a different reality.

You heaved out a shaky breath as you closed your eyes, only then did you found yourself weeping as the tears welled out from your closed lids. Your nails dug onto your arms while you leaned there.

In that moment, you know you've given up.

You know you're gradually waking up to a reality that's only existed within your mind, and heart. You know there's no way to go back. You know it's gone.

You know you want that life back.

It hurts because you never truly did got tell how much you love him.

Taking your time to sulk and let the weight from your chest disappear, you tried to count to ten. The pace of your hitched breathing begins to slow down until you lastly take a deep breathe, then exhaled.

You dryly swallowed. Early in the morning and you're already having a crisis with yourself.

Hvergelmir could just drown me for all I care.

Alas, you don't really wish that right now. You think that a cold bath would be nice. Your eyes are swollen and cheeks are soaked, and it seems like the brightly lit sun peeking through your window feels too warm on your skin.

But you also take a moment to look around the room, orienting yourself once again. Until you did remember something clearly the night prior.

You heard Loki.

You know his voice anywhere, and it was loud enough to hear and to hear your name at that. Of course, you could not explain how that would be possible. Once there and then just disappear? If it was the Loki from TVA, then he would have had opened a time door, then off you had gone with him. But apparently no. Your mind must have been just too desperate with so many things so you guess you're starting to hear voices now.

It's either that or it was also just a dream.

Yeah.. you thought. just a trick of the mind.

Though, you know in your heart that you wish it wasn't.

When you headed out from your bedroom, with clothes now changed into Midgardian ones that you've scoured about in your given wardrobe, the hall that greeted you was empty. Yet, at the end of it, there we're voices talking. You sneakily walked towards it to see who. And you see two people.

You just realized now why the blond woman with the Avengers was familiar to you. All that's different from her appearance is her hair, which is according to what you remembered was red.

Natasha Romanoff.

And next to her was Steve Rogers.

You slowly let yourself be visible, urging yourself to step out louder to get their attention.

Though, never mind that. They already felt you before you could even take a few steps. Their heads immediately turn not a moment from your spot. You freeze.

Ah, you thought. that's terrifyingly great instincts.

"Oh," Natasha was the first one to speak. "it's you." she looked at you with nothing much but curiosity as she regarded you with a tug from the corners of her lips.

"Hello.." you hesitantly greeted with a small smile.

"Good morning to you." Steve says with a polite nod and a gentle smile. There's that firmness in his eyes mixed with a softness that balances his authoritative and kind nature. But then he struggled to say his next words. "You, uh...We actually didn't got your name."

You raised a brow. Did they not joined to watch your interrogation?

Oh.

You suppressed a laugh and slowly nodded your head. "Yes, I- I know...." you said with a pause as they quirked up. "I know you watched my interrogation. You don't have to lie no more." your eyes went to Natasha who looked quite awestruck, but gathered herself in an instant.

Steve lightly raised his brows and his eyes lowered down in shame as he exchanged quick glances with his fellow Avenger. "Of course."

Natasha turns to you with an apologizing look. "Sorry about that. Tony is just hard to deal with and...we just had to see for ourselves if you can be an ally."

You lightly shook your head. "That's fine now. After all, it is the reason why I'm out of that cell."

Steve lightly chuckled. "You're right. You have to thank Thor for that. He's been very insistent on convincing us to free you. Saying that you're still one of his people even if from a different reality."

You softened at that. "So I heard." you said. You try to recall what Bruce said to you last night, and thought about what else he told you. "What about Loki?"

Steve thinks for a moment before he gave you a faint serious look. "You should keep an eye on him."

Beside him, Natasha huffs with a roll of her eyes. "I don't see it that way." she raised a brow at Steve. "Have you seen how that rascal acted when he heard her name?"

Your ears perk at that.

"I did." he turns to her with a look of neutral assurance. "And he could be plotting something because of it."

The blond woman tilts her head, eyes challenging him. "I'm pretty sure everybody in this building thinks the same."

"Exactly." Steve answers back.

"Why? What did Loki say?" you ask with eagerness. Their eyes turn to you, though Natasha just gives you a smile.

"You'll see for yourself." she says, while she receives a frown from Steve, seemingly lost at what she's saying.

You're no different though. Confusion strikes you, but before you could even crease your bows harder than Captain America, Natasha followed through with her next words. "By the way, dining area's over there." she points towards the place. "You should eat first before the wizard portals next to you."

"What about you two?" you questioned.

"Don't worry about us." Steve replies with a nod. "We already had our fill. You should go eat...You earned it."

You revel at his soft tone and friendliness. Something in his eyes looks like understanding. A look that knows your hardship and the feeling of being lost somewhere. Being lost to time.

There's a wonder at the back of your mind but you just settled for a genuine smile.

When they left as soon as an aircraft landed outside the compound's fields, which you can see now in the light of the day, you ventured forth into the dining space and ate your fill. The meal just sat there and probably prepared by someone. Or something? But you didn't think much of it as you regarded the spacious dining area.

Before you could even feel the loneliness sink in at the sight of the empty seats, you had the feeling of being watched. Maybe even heard.

Perhaps, it's the thing about what Stark said. You are being watched.

You don't know by what but you don't really want to know either, so you just ate.

Sanctum Sanctorum.

That's where you are right now.

And while you are, magic courses through your veins as you kept trying to conjure, absorb, harness, control, anything that you can do to the little pebble of green that doesn't seem to open up to you.

And by you mean open up, trying to find its core of command and borrow its power to somehow lead you to where time is managed. One thing you know about magic, is that it can tell you secrets and commands. It's like an immediate breakthrough of knowledge that you can try to cast until you can be able to familiarize yourself with it.

But with the Time stone, its like there's nothing there. No core.

It's not like any other magic embedded crystals that you've tried to harness or absorb. But you also considered the fact that, this must also be what makes an infinity stone special.

"Nothing?" behind you, Strange stands while the Time stone is placed in front of you as it rests on a crystal holder beneath an antique table.

You turn, breath pacing. "Nothing...I- I don't get it. The stone itself, it's like- it's empty."

Strange's frown before only deepened and he sighs. Both of you had tried it several times. He didn't allowed you to do it in the first place since he had firmly told you before that he should be the only one to use it. But he eventually gave up and lend you a chance to try for yourself.

And now you both found yourselves still unsuccessful.

"How about we harness it both at the same time?" he steps beside you, eyeing the stone.

You look at him for a moment, eyes narrowed. "The stone will be overloaded and probably be destroyed."

He laughs and turns to you with a daring look. "Not if we put little amount of magic."

"Now, hold on." you halt him. "Acquiring the core command would be impossible with little magic—even if you and I combined."

Just when he's about to harness it himself, he lowers his arms down and looks at you. "Any suggestions then?" he says, almost irritatingly.

You think.

How can crystals be used in other ways? You know how to harness the core but what about the outside of the item? It's surface where the strings of magic can be accessed to cast its main level use. The simplest function of a crystal or any other magic stones. What else can it be used for?

You widened your eyes.

Of course!

"Compatibility." you mutter, turning to an increasingly confused Strange as you continued. "We might need to perform a forbidden spell."

"No."

You inhale, getting ready to explain yourself. "I swear to my own life that I will be cautious and perform it carefully."

He gives you a dead look. "And what exactly are you proposing?"

"I have no idea." you honestly say. You see Strange preparing to retort to that but you hurriedly added. "But, there's a grimoire in Asgard that contains the spell and we can use that as a guide."

You've never been really allowed to read that same book since it was prohibited for anyone to learn and use. It has lists of forbidden magics like dark magic and such, but you're clearly in dire need of a solution. And that's all you have left. There's one particular spell that can help you tear through space and time and its no wonder why it is forbidden. But with the Time stone and its ability to rewind events, its doable.

"Asgard?" he surprisingly asks.

"Yes." you nodded. "Your Asgard here should have it."

He only looks at you with a sudden change of his expression. His irritation had dissipated as he sadly frowned at your form.

What...

"Come with me." he finally says, walking past you. "Your fellow Asgardians might be able to help you know more." he then opens a portal to somewhere you don't quite recognize, but you do see a lot of greenery and expansive fields of grasslands.

"Is that...Asgard?"

He almost avoids your gaze and shakes his head. You looked at him in confusion, wanting more answers. He eventually gestured his head towards the portal, urging you to follow, so you did. Stepping out of the circular entrance, you took in the lands as you came to finally see the visible ocean. Along the fields we're houses being built and people scurrying to help—men, women and children.

"Why are we here?"

"To see Thor...and an another asgardian sorcerer who might be able to help us." Strange replies.

"Welcome to Norway."

Previous chapter: (Chapter 3)

Next chapter: (Chapter 5)

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'A Chance and Beyond' taglist:

@oscarissac2099 @lcolumbia1988

Ko-fi?

#loki #loki season 2 #female reader #loki x reader #tva #tva loki x reader #mcu #marvel #marvel loki #marvel cinematic universe #time variance authority #the avengers #avengers #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #time slipping #loki series #loki s2 #loki season two #tom hiddleston

[queenlucythevaliant]

🪆would love one featuring Russian thoughts on God! ✝️

SO. I could have sworn that I've posted "Avvakum in Pustozyorsk" on this blog before, but I can't seem to find it so here it is.

(For context, this is written in the voice of a 17th century Russian Orthodox priest and religious dissident (an "Old Believer"). Avvakum was sent to the military outpost of Pustozyorsk where he was imprisoned four fourteen years, then eventually burned at the stake. It uses this historical voice to reflect on the religious persecution of the Soviet era. Also, it's fairly long, so I've highlighted my favorite stanzas.)

Avvakum in Pustozyorsk The walls of my church are the ribs round my heart; it seems life and I are soon bound to part. My cross now rises, traced with two fingers. In Pustozyorsk it blazes; its blaze will linger. I’m glorified everywhere, vilified, branded; I have already become the stuff of legend: I was, people say, full of anger and spite; I suffered, I died for the ancient rite. But this popular verdict is ugly nonsense; I hear and reject the implied censure. A rite is nothing – neither wrong nor right; a rite is a trifle in God’s sight. But they attacked our faith and the ways of the past, in all we’d learned as children, and taken to heart. In their holy garments, in their grand hats, with a cold crucifix in their cold hands, in thrall to a terror clutching their souls, they drag us to jails and herd us to scaffolds. We don’t debate doctrine, of books and their age; we don’t debate virtues of fetters and chains. Our dispute is of freedom, and the right to breathe – about our Lord’s will to bind as he please. The healers of souls chastised our bodies; while they schemed and plotted, we ran to the forests. Despite their decrees, we hurled our words out of the lion’s mouth and into the world. We called for vengeance against their sins along with the Lord; we sang poems and hymns. The words of the Lord were claps of thunder. The Church endures; it will never go under. And I, unyielding, reading the Psalter, was brought to the gates of the Andronikov Monastery. I was young; I endured every pain: hunger, beatings, interrogations. A winged angel shut the eyes of the guard, brought me cabbage soup and a hunk of bread. I crossed the threshold – and I walked free. Embracing my exile, I walked to the East. I held services by the Amur River, where I barely survived the winds and blizzards. They branded my cheeks with brands of frost; by a mountain stream they tore out my nostrils. But the path to the Lord goes from jail to jail; the path to the Lord never changes. And all too few, since Jesus’s days, have proved able to bear God’s all-seeing gaze. Nastasia, Nastasia, do not despair; true joy often wears a garment of tears. Whatever temptations may beat in your heart, whatever torments may rip you apart, walk on in peace through a thousand troubles and fear not the snake that bites at your ankles – though not from Eden has this snake crawled; it is an envoy of evil from Satan’s world. Here, birdsong is unknown; here one learns patience and the wisdom of stone. I have seen no colour except lingonberry in fourteen years spent as a prisoner. But this is not madness, nor a waking dream; it is my soul’s fortress, its will and freedom. And now they are leading me far away and in fetters; my yoke is easy, my burden grows lighter. My track is swept clean dusted with silver; I’m climbing to heaven on wings of fire. Through cold and hunger, through grief and fear, towards God, like a dove, I rise from the pyre. O far-away Russia – I give you my vow to return from the sky, forgiving my foes. May I be reviled, and burned at the stake; may my ashes be cast on the mountain wind. There is no fate sweeter, no better end, than to knock, as ash, at the human heart.

--Varlam Shalamov

#i know this is way longer than most of what i've been sharing #i thought about putting a cut somewhere but i just couldn't think where #you can't cut this. i mean right?? #so yeah. hopefully you're okay with long #i've got a whole bunch of great Russian poems about God and the church #but this is consistantly the one that hits me hardest #and it hits me a little differently each time #i have seen no color but lingonberry (blood) in 14 years #and i am preparing to die #but i want to forgive my foes #i want to go joyfully #and i want to knock as ash on the human heart. i want my life to be a witness #and i wish there was a way to tell him that it is #the bit about God's will to bind as he pleases and the linking of that with human freedom... surprisingly reformed for an Orthodox priest #idk #i adore this poem #i have a couple stanzas done in calligraphy and hanging up in my closet #so even though it's long i hope this poem was to your liking friend #russia where are you flying to? #ask me hard questions

[isalisewrites]

MOON RITE - CHAPTER ONE

SUMMARY:

Ten years.

A dance, an endless terrible dance - fighting against Voldemort again and again; Harry had lost count of the battles. A cruel stalemate.

And he'd grown weary.

"It's true," breathed Voldemort. "It's true."

It'd become a ritual between them, a religious rite of which both were driven by their mad orthodox fervor.

Until Voldemort learned the truth: Harry was his horcrux. With a sudden offer of a ceasefire, the decades long war could be over - lives saved and protected - if Harry swore to one agreement: a magically binding marriage contract with Voldemort himself.

The Moon Rite.

—

ONE EXCERPT:

Fuck.

He knows.

Harry would never escape this, would he? Duel after duel had ended in failure. Harry was powerful, especially with the elder wand, but he was outclassed by the older and more experienced Voldemort. After all these years, all he could do was protect and defend those he loved. Harry never won any ground in Voldemort’s war; he only maintained what little freedoms they had.

Ten years.

A dance, an endless terrible dance - fighting against Voldemort again and again; Harry had lost count of the battles. A cruel stalemate.

And he’d grown weary.

It’d become a ritual between them, a religious rite of which both were driven by their mad orthodox fervor. Years of searching and Harry with his friends at his side never found any of the horcruxes. The only thing holding Voldemort back from taking over the Ministry was Harry and the elder wand. The day Harry fell, the Wizarding World would fall with him.

It was never going to end, was it?

“What have you done with him, the traitor?” demanded Harry; his voice was hoarse. “What have you done to him?”

Voldemort blinked, as if the trance faded. He let out a single laugh before he devolved into a haunting, mocking melody. Voldemort covered his face with his other hand as he doubled over. He glanced up, eyes radiant, his pale lips stretching in a wide, triumphant smile.

A shiver shot through Harry.

“Are you worried for him?”

“I value every life, even the minions who serve you.”

Voldemort cocked his head to the side, the smile unnatural. “But you don’t think of Severus like that, do you? You think of him as family, as a father figure. Yes?”

Thump. Thump.

His heart hammered in his chest.

“What a clever little game the two of you have played all these years. To think, he so brilliantly sold me the lie of his hatred for you,” said Voldemort. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Guardian to Harry Potter and lover to his hated schoolboy rival—Salazar, I have been quite the fool.”

Oh, god, please, no. Don’t take him. I can’t lose him—I can’t—

“I’ll have you know… It wasn’t easy. It takes a lot to break Severus,” said Voldemort in a dark murmur. “So many rounds of cruciatus, the screams—”

The earth tore to shreds from a mighty bombarda, knocking Voldemort far off his feet and onto the ground. Harry whipped out another spell, but Voldemort deflected it, swiftly standing.

“If you think,” hissed Harry, advancing on the man, “that I’m a thorn in your side now, then imagine what I’ll do to you if you do anything to him. You killed my parents when I was a helpless baby—” Harry’s tone dropped, low and deadly with an ominous oath. “—if you take my family away from me again, I will tear out your heart with my bare hands and shove it down your throat until you choke to your pitiful death.”

Voldemort licked his lips. “How enticing,” he said with a seductive smirk. “I daresay it’s a date, Harry, darling.”

#harry potter #tom riddle #voldemort #tomarry #harrymort #hp #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #mywriting #moon rite #harry potter/voldemort #tomarry big bang 2023

[vermin-disciple]

2023 Fanworks: Year in Review

Fanfic:

1. Gentlemen of Fortune (Jan, 378 words, Garak/Bashir)

2. Odds and Endpapers (Jul, 1,043 words, Garak/Bashir, Jake & Ziyal)

3. The Smoke of Her Burning (Oct, 1,225 words, Garak/Imaginary!Bashir)

4. Can't Have One Without the Other (Oct, 1,108 words, Garak/Bashir)

5. Don't Sweat the Details (Oct, 560 words, Nog & Jake, Background Jake/Ziyal)

6. Poonraker: For Your Flies Only (Oct, 1,432 words, Garak/Bashir)

7. Theory of Mind (Oct, 441 words, Mirror!Spock & Mirror McCoy)

8. This Be The Verse: Miscellanea (Nov, 3,389 words, Garak/Bashir, OCs, Bashir & O'Brien)

9. All the Comforts of Home (Nov, 761 words, Garak/Bashir)

10. The Gift of Giving Names (Dec, 2,680 words, Kira & Odo, Jadzia/Worf, Garak/Bashir)

Poetry:

1. When my love swears that he is made of truth... (Jul, 117 words, Garak/Bashir)

Fanbinding:

1. A Bag Full of God (Feb)

2. OFMD Wirebound Notebook (Feb)

3. Had we but world enough, and time by Philosopher_King (Mar)

4. The Game Is Afoot by Sapphose (Mar)

5. A Stitch in Time by Andrew Robinson (Jul)

6. Freedom's Just Another Word (Jul)

7. A Private Universe by AuroraNova (Jul)

8. Speculative Cardassian Reproductive Xenobiology by tinsnip (Oct)

9. DS9 Weekly Planner (Dec)

Podfic:

1. The Spy Who Robbed Me (Jun, 22 minutes, Garak/Bashir)

2. Inimicus Inimici Mei (Oct, 11 minutes, Garak & Tekeny Ghemor)

3. Courtship Displays (Oct, 15 minutes, Garak/Bashir, Bashir & O'Brien)

Other Fan Crafts:

1. Obsidian Order Mouse Pad (Feb) - Made for my mom, using supplies leftover from my bind of "A Bag Full of God."

2. Planter Box Graffiti (Jun) - Done in tempera paint and soft pastels, and a stencil cut with Cricut for the DS9 silhouette. FYI, it's still there, in spite of the rain.

3. Lazy TOS Cosplay: Bread and Circuses T-Shirt (Aug) - I didn't post about this, although it features in the photo I took with Andy Robinson. The design is an iron-on cut with Cricut.

4. WIP: Concrete Garden Beds - I haven't posted about this yet, but a couple of months ago I started screwing around with concrete. Naturally, I decided to make some giant ST themed yard art with it. Planning on turning them into succulent gardens. I was hoping to finish them before the end of the year, but didn't have either the time or the weather for it. So, here's a preview of the bigger one:

Year In Review:

Total word count: 13,134

Longest complete fic: The Gift of Giving Names (2,680 words)

Most popular fic: Can't Have One Without the Other (kudos: 153, bookmarks: 14)

Most popular fan craft: My bind of A Stitch in Time (507 notes)

My personal highlights: The Gift of Giving Names and The Smoke of Her Burning. The former is something I've had on the back-burner for years so I'm glad I finally got it finished to my own satisfaction. The latter is the opposite: I didn't plan at all, just wrote in a day or two in response to a prompt. It's been a while since I wrote something this bleak and angsty, which was fun. I'm also incredibly pleased with how my attempt to pastiche a Shakespearean sonnet turned out. And finally, for bookbinding, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to top my version of A Stitch in Time.

All in all, kind of a lousy year for writing, but not bad in terms of fanwork diversity. I'm particularly happy with the progress I've made with my bookbinding, and looking forward to playing around more with concrete in 2024.

Happy New Year!

#2023 fanworks #2023 year in review #my fanfic #my podfic #my fan crafts #my fanart #my bookbinding #fan crafts #fanfic #fanart #fanbinding #bookbinding #podfic #my photos #star trek #ds9 #tos #garashir #vermin rites #vermin writes

[yzeltia]

petunia - your presence soothes me

“Censured! Again! Why even have the fourteenth seat if my voice is to be silenced!”

Elidubus flinched as Azem threw his mask off into the wall, breaking it. Seeing his dear friend angered tested his neutrality. He wished he had the freedom to act on his first impulse so assuredly, but it was his cautious nature that earned him his seat, to foil his love. 

And in that love he was only able to watch as Azem let his temper flare. There were no words to comfort him, the decision was made. Watching Azem’s shoulders as they heaved, Themis delicately ran his hand up the other's neck then circled his arms around his waist to hug onto him. “I cannot speak for Loghrif’s actions, but in truth you only have me to be angry with. I am the Emissary, it is more fitting that I become His heart.” 

Azem tensed up under Elidubus’s embrace, fist balling tight as he was clung. His head shook, as if having some sort of internal argument with himself. “I know well why Loghrif has abdicated her role. Mitron.”

“What do you mean?”

Azem turned, grabbing Elidibus by the shoulders, expression pained. “Are you so blinded by our roles you cannot see the people under them anymore? They are like us. Mitron loves Loghrif. They cannot bare to be separated, even if it is for the good of our Star,” he stressed, taking the other's hand and forcing through his robes and onto his chest before letting his lip quiver as he continued, “To become His heart is to take away my own as you are my heart. I do not love anything more than you, even our Star. This sacrifice asks too much. We should all find a third way or take our punishment together rather than gambling with peoples’ lives.”

Elidubus stared quietly up into Azem’s fiery eyes as he felt the other's heart pound beneath his chest. Gingerly he moved to touch his cheek, offering a small smile. “There is no other way. This will happen. No more can you stand to be in a world without me, I cannot conceive of a world without you in it. I might become the heart of our God, but mine will remain here. With you.”

Azem put his hand over Elidubus’s, grunting in frustration before taking his head into his hands to hold as he delivered a rough kiss. The Emissary leaned forward, returning the kiss as best as he could before gently pushing the other back.

“Bind our aether together,” Azem ordered, wiping his mouth with his wrist.

“Azem-”

“NO! Do not call me that. Not anymore…”

Elidubus paused, then pulled off his mask, “Gelos. I am uncertain if that is a good idea given what I am to become. To tie ourselves to one another when I'm to become-”

“I don't care what happens to me. If I am not enough to keep you here then let us always have a piece of one another wherever our roads end up taking us. Themis…please.”

The silver-haired male felt himself given, hand idly reaching out to tug lightly at the string of his love’s robes. Gelos soon was upon him, pulling away his white clothing as they fell to the floor. Themis found himself barely able to keep a thought together as he was kissed and swiftly united with his ever eager lover. Once used to the fullness, clarity finally hit, allowing him to focus on their aether, finding Gelos’s to be nearly overwhelming as always. Still, with their bodies and hearts as one, binding their souls seemed almost trivial. He couldn't help but wonder why he had any hesitation to begin with…there was no other presence he was more fond of. 

Even when at odds. Even with their union being as heart wrenchingly painful as it was physically pleasurable. Even if tomorrow Gelos would be gone and the Convocation made to be only thirteen…Even if tomorrow did not come…they'd be bound forever.

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #final fantasy 14 #ff14 #ffxiv oc #ff xiv #u'rahn nuhn #elidibus #gelos #wol x elidibus #wol x themis #themis #angst

[myers-meadow]

Otis B. Driftwood x fem OC: 🌺 A muse for him and him alone 💟

Title: A muse for him and him alone (chapter 1)

Warnings: (mild) gore, rape/non-con, dub-con, captivity, necrophilia, mentions of torture.

Summary: Even the Devil himself has art block sometimes... In the fresh group of victims that comes to the house, Otis discovers a muse. Inspiration and amusement drive him to keep her around, and both grow attached. With complex feelings keeping her alive, she must find a way to ensure her survival in the household, even if she gets in the way of what the family considers as their normal.

Word count: 2137

This is a very 'Meadow'-esque exploration of what it would be like to be kept by Otis as a victim and a muse. It follows a theatre-like akte structure, and is overall somewhat fragmented, as dairies can often be. In this fic I allow myself to be entirely myself and go as dark, as soft, and as intimate as I want. This will have multiple parts, a lot of it is planned out, but I will take my time and enjoy the process.

Please enjoy! Don't forget to let me know if you did! <3

Dividers by delishlydelightfuldividers

AKTE 0: “Ich will Frei sein – richtig Frei sein!“

The road was long, never-ending, the heat almost bearable with the windows down, stray hairs catching in my lipstick at the corners of my mouth, singing along to those songs about freedom on the cd we brought from home, complaining about the mediocre gas station food. Andra, Jip and me squished in the backseat; Christoff and Bram in the front, doing their best to ignore the off-key singing from behind them, focussing on road and directions. This trip was so unplanned it was ridiculous, yet each of us joined with that enthusiasm of feeling like the summer laid in wait at our feet. We slept in joined beds or when one of us couldn’t stand it anymore, they took the car, stayed up too late to see the stars, to see so far across the plains, to hear different birds from those we have at home. To feel the coldness of the night set in, the dew waiting on the grass when first light woke us since each motel room had those shitty thin curtains, and telling ourselves we’d nap in the car. I’m sure Bram had a friend of a friend he was meeting at our destination, and Christoff and Jip were mending their messy relationship, but I was there for Andra. I hoped that if we spent these two weeks together, that her friendly touches would grow to linger. That I’d know for sure that she’d taste like cigarettes and toothpaste, that I’d not have to ask Jip to rub sunscreen on my shoulders again, that the ride would be full of stolen touches and pretending we didn’t notice the others staring.

AKTE I: Disbelief

How did we go from singing along to Helge Schneider and daydreaming in the car to this- to being hunted for sport; Andra and me stripped almost nude, tied up and gagged in some disgusting room with faded bloodstains on the floor. It was the big man with the dark hair who took us, but it was a team effort. Bram, Christoff and Jip must be somewhere, taking by the others. There were so many of them – god my head hurt. It throbbed and my vision followed the pulse of my heart. The rag around my head to gag me was tied so poorly I managed it down with ease. Andra, next to me, already awake, was littered with bruises and small cuts, open skin on her knees and forearms from falling and crawling away, panicked eyes staring into mine. And before I could think of what to say, before I could even test the give of the rope binding my arms behind my back, the bear of a guy came back. It was a blur of screaming, dizziness, cursing, and being pulled by my hair as a sharp pain through it all.

“Fuck, the bitch broke my nose!” the bear roared, knocking me to the wall with enough force that the wall itself shook. The door slammed open, and the white haired guy entered. Otis. Why did I remember his name with my head splitting open from the pain? He was angry, but when he saw me already down on the ground (cowering), Andra still tied, fallen over on her chair, and the bear clutching his nose, he burst out laughing.

“Finally met one who bested ya? Serves you right for taking first pick, asshole.” And he easily dodged my attempts to swat at him like a cat and dragged me off by the scruff of my neck.

Otis’ room was in sharp contrast to the rest of the house and I didn’t dare say a word as he strapped me to the wall, and stepped back to admire me, sleazy grin on his face. As he retreated to put on a record, I looked around at the many crude drawings on the walls. On the ceiling too, and in the middle of it was written ‘god won’t help you now’ and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. It was a laugh like the ones where the roller coaster creeps closer to that tipping point, close to the free fall – but not knowing when it’d come. Maniacal and scary. Some upbeat blues rock perfected the absurdist reality of the situation.

Otis, reappearing, eyebrows raised, said: “You havin’ fun, missy?”

But of course I wasn’t, as much like roller coasters, this was no fun at all. “I didn’t even meant to kick him that hard,” I said, wheezing, trying to catch my breath from laughing. The knife in Otis’ hand glinted as he came closer. Death was a given, but I’d love to have another go at the fighting thing- The door swung open, a girl marched in, voice loud and high-pitched.

“They got away, Otis quick!”

“Goddamnit!” he cursed loudly, slamming the knife right next to my head, the sound of the splintering wood resounding in my head as he grabbed a rifle from behind the opened door. He complained all the while, and I leaned my head back against the wall, sighing with the relief of my demise pushed back.

AKTE II: Art show

Evening fell. When Otis returned, I’d almost fallen asleep. He let me, or made me, depending how you look at it, go to the bathroom. It was no more or less bad than anything else I could imagine to have my last moments on this earth be. There was a song stuck in my head and I hummed it quietly as I washed my hands for as long as Otis let me, before he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me back to his bedroom. Where the big bear of a man favoured rope, Otis preferred chains. Of course they were heavy, of course they were uncomfortable – but did any of that truly matter at the end of a life like this? I remembered family, and all the girls I had just a little too intense of a friendship with, and the many cats I’ve loved and cuddled. It would’ve been nice to have more time. To tell my parents of my travels, of what America is like, of how the people were all so nice.

Otis set me down on his desk chair, wrapping the chain around my chest and the back of the chair. I let my head fall back to watch him as he chatted idly, referencing conversations we shared the night before, when things were still normal, as he sharpened his knife or whatever it was that evil men do.

“You and your friends,” he said, pointing at me, “you sure are a lively bunch. We don’t get ones like you often. I don’t appreciate the noise as much, but you, you’re filling my head with thoughts. Do you have any idea how it is to be cooped up in here all day – no fresh ideas, no thoughts to share, nothing of value to ever come through these parts? But you’ve opened the doors of my mind.”

“So all those things you said about being an artist, about your art, that’s all bullshit?” I asked, moving my legs to try and swing the chair around to face him properly.

“A simple guy like me can’t be an artist? Is that it?” his tone was all venom. He wanted to scare me.

“Yeah, sure, you kill people, everyone can do that, but do you create? Can you create something from the ground up?”

He scoffed, but seemed amused as he leaned himself down to my level, his hands on my underarms – surprisingly warm, but I could practically taste the copper and cigarettes that clung to him. His eyes were even stranger in the low light than they were in the candle light of the dinner the night before.

“Oh, I’ll show you, mama.”

The ‘art’ was behind a curtain, and he pulled it back with a grand gesture, grinning widely. Going behind me, he pushed the chair until it was in front of it. It was a creature, unclear of what it was made of, but it resembled half snake, half human. A long forked tongue past horrifyingly realistic looking lips. The human half was endearingly ugly-looking.

“Wow,” I said, too absorbed in looking at it that the sound of my own voice startled me. I scooted the chair closer with awkward movements to see the detail better. Each scale was painstakingly carved and painted, the colour almost shimmery, just like how real snakeskin looks. “This is amazing. What is this made of? Is that clay?”

Otis stared at me, without words for a second.

“The detail is incredible,” I said, scooting myself another few centimetres closer. “The tongue is a very nice touch. It almost looks like a man captured by a witch, who cursed him after he lied to her. Like something out of a fairy tale. Cursed to reflect the crime committed.”

Otis just laughed but I paid him no mind, too busy staring at the complexity and high level of realism in the artwork.

“I can’t believe you created this – how long did it take you? Must’ve spent entire days on it to get all these details just right.” Admiration, mixed with a healthy measure of disbelief, dripped from my voice. “Each individual scale… You’d almost think it’s a real snake.”

Otis snorted.

I tried to reach out to feel the texture of the body, but was held back by the chains and cursed at the feeling.

“This should be in one of those big museums, selling for millions to those eclectic rich people in ugly suits. To think of a concept like this! The mythological meaning of a snake, and that with a sizable project like this. Do you make things like this regularly? God, it’s beautiful.”

In my head, thoughts swirled around, clashing in opposite directions. How could art this beautiful exist in an unassuming place, so far out in the middle of nowhere? Assuming he had no formal artistic education, and learned by doing, making it all the more impressive. Worse than that; how could a man so deeply evil have created something of such beauty with hands that have taken the lives of my friends?

All thoughts halted when he grabbed me by the neck and planted a wet, open-mouthed kiss on my lips.

AKTE III: Bad moon rising

Night fell, and my fear of death went down with the setting sun. Otis dropped a corpse down on his bed. Where did he even get her? She wasn’t anyone I knew. A small relief.

“It’s time for bed,” he announced with a vile grin. He tied the chain that bound me to the frame of his bed, leash short. I’d have to sleep on the floor. Somehow that wasn’t the worst that happened in the past 24 hours, so I laid my head on my folded arm and closed my eyes to rest. Once I laid still for a couple minutes, a harrowing tiredness set in – yet my thoughts raced. As soon as I felt my consciousness fade, the bed creaked. Grunts accompanied it and I looked up. It was dark, but without question, there was the shape of Otis, mounting the corpse. I stifled my gasp with my hand, eyes wide, lip curled with disgust. He noticed, and laughed, teeth bared in a grin like that of a wolf.

“Ain’t ever seen a guy make sweet love before?” he taunted. “Or would you rather join us? Sure you can, if ya ask nicely.”

The hardness of the cold floor was far preferable. The chains rattled as I shook my head wildly. Pressing my eyes closed, trying to shut it all out, to pretend it wasn’t happening. The noise was worse with my mind filling in the blanks, so I stared up at him again, with disbelieving eyes. How could he get worse, so, so much worse than he already was? What is wrong with this family? And then, at the back of my head: at least it wasn’t me. And, for her: at least she wouldn’t have to live with the trauma of it – although I will, for the both of us. His pleasured grunts and the creaking increased in speed and volume. No words in any language I know of could describe this.

With a final grunt, and then a deep sigh, he came. A cold arm that hit mine made me crawl as far away from the bed as the chain allowed me. Just in time, as Otis rolled the whole body off the bed, thudding down to face me, mangled and twisted with lifelessness. I screamed. Loud and shrill. The first time I did that day. I could barely hear his laughter over the blood rushing in my ears. 

#otis b driftwood #otis driftwood x oc #otis driftwood #otis b driftwood x oc #house of 1000 corpses #otis driftwood fanfic #slasher fandom #slasher community