#brimstone and glory

[stellaris-archivum]

rito where's my french baguette!!!!!

I SEE NO CHAMBRS HERE

WHERE ARE YOU HIDING HIM RITO!!!!!!

dont get me wrong definitely excited for the new map but WHERE IS HE I NEED HIM

#NAH BC DID THEY SERIOUSLY JUST LET US SEE HIM IN PIXELATED GLORY AND THEN JUST????? #WHERE'S CHAMB3R #give me my crumbs of my croissant PLEASE #valorant #chamber valorant #vincent fabron #valorant chamber #valorant sova #valorant gekko #valorant reyna #valorant brimstone #valorant deadlock

[mx-monster]

I have a lot of Horny Thoughts about the incubus. It’s such a cliche and so overdone but it’s just so hot. MM, corruption/virginity kink, a leetle dubcon, nsfw maybe one day it’ll become a full story but for now just enjoy my horny rambling

The son of a fire and brimstone preacher has been homeschooled all his life, with little interaction with anyone outside the church his father preaches at.

The church he’ll one day preach at.

He has a girlfriend but they’re waiting until marriage to kiss. He doesn’t understand why his peers are having such a hard time abstaining from the sins of the flesh. It’s easy for him. He’s never even watched porn. And aside from night time expulsions, he’s never had a proper orgasm.

He’s exactly everything he’s supposed to be. Free from sin. Free from failure.

Until the dreams start.

He feels weight on his chest. Something was laying on top of him. He blinked his eyes open only to have his breath stolen by a pair of brilliant gold eyes. The strangeness of the eyes didn’t stop with the color of the iris. Where the whites of the eyes were supposed to be, there was inky black. And instead of roundness the pupils were thin, vertical slits.

The eyes of a snake.

Of a demon.

He was in his bed with a demon sprawled out on top of him.

It had to be a demon. The creature had blue skin and a pair of horns that sprouted from its long, inky black hair. And yet, despite its alieness, he could not look away from the sharp angles and planes of the creatures face. So enraptured by the creature, he didn’t notice it begin to grind its sex into his own clothed cock until a wicked heat sparked deep in his belly.

“I see you’ve noticed my gift, sweet one,” the demon purred. And God that voice, “I’ve been blessed with two cocks. Do they feel good?”

Yes, they did, he loathed to admit. Bolts of electric pleasure sparked underneath his skin with every roll of the demons hips.

It was just a dream he could have this in his dreams

The sound of his own wrecked whimper broke him out of his lust induced haze.

“Get off me,” he snarled, scrambling out from underneath the demon. As the demon sat back on its haunches, the covers fell away revealing the demon in all its naked glory. Blue skin that stretched over lean muscle. Elaborate gold tattoos adorned the demons arms, torso, and legs. He traced the intricate patterns with his eyes until his gaze fell to the two thick cocks that stood at attention between its muscular thighs.

The demon gave him a pacifying, nearly condescending, smile.

“Don’t worry, sweet one. I have no plans on forcing myself on you. That defeats the purpose. I plan on taking my time with you. To truly savor you. A meal like you is rare nowadays,” the demon reached out a clawed hand, tracing the preachers sons jaw with a long, black talon, “I’ll take you in my mouth first. And then you’ll take mine into yours. I’ll press your face into the pillow while rut into that virginal hole of yours and then I’ll turn you over and lavish myself on your cock until I’ve had my fill. I’ll have you in front of God and you’ll cry tears of ecstasy. But not until you want it. Until you’re crying for it.”

“I’ll never want it.” The preachers son growled through clenched teeth. Heart beating wildly with rage and perverse desire.

The demon’s golden gaze flitted down to the tent in his sweat pants. A grin bloomed on it’s face, revealing a mouth full of pointed teeth, “we’ll see about that.”

#monster fucker #monster x human #monster lover #teratophillia #exophelia #terato #d #preacher son x incubus #incubus #demon #corruption kink #virginity kink

[radioisntdead]

Eeeeee oki, so I just finished watching boy swallows universe (an absolute masterpiece) and I was wondering what if the reader was like sold drugs or just did bad stuff for money for their family, like they grew up pretty fricking poor and did whatever they could for the extra cash (which is why they're in hell). They die somehow, land in hell and get treated like absolute dirt because they're small and they're wearing plain ass clothes, not powerful at all. Then comes Susan, and she's like "I'm so sick of the pathetic youth today, I'm taking you home with me" and just teaches them how to be proper and less shy and stuff, and to tear people with their teeth (yhey never got used to the whole eating people thing, Susan rolled her eyes and asked if she was a vagitarian or whatever it was called) and this reader hardly talks to anyone but Susan. Then they get introduced to Rosie and Alastor and it's just Susan simultaneously boasting about them telling them to stand up straight

Good evening my dear! This is definitely one of my favorite requests that I have gotten,

I finished boy swallows universe while writing this and I cried, I'm trying to convince my best friend to watch it now, it was very good.

I'm imagining the reader to be around the size of Niffty, maybe a little taller?

Susan's grandkid

Susan & reader

WARNINGS!!

Drug usage, child neglect, cannibalism, murder etc etc Susan kinda treats you as a stray pet in the beginning, not proofread so apologies for any spelling mistakes!

You died young, tragically young, you died in the winter, cornered away curled into a ball, clutching your stomach, wearing a old thin sweater that your older brother gave you, overalls, flimsy socks with a couple of holes in them, and worn down sneakers, you were beaten and bruised, you wanted your mom to hold you and tell you that everything was alright but she wasn't coming,

Did she know where you were? How would she react knowing her kid was gone?

You were a good kid, you just made a couple of bad decisions for your family, you mimicked what you saw,

No one ever suspected the kid with a babyface was dealing, getting involved in shady stuff and horrible, horrible people who couldn't care less that you couldn't even drink yet.

You woke up with brimstone and sulfur around and a dingy old sign saying welcome to hell, It was unfair.

You wondered around aimlessly, you were small enough that most folks didn't notice you at first, and those that did well, they either ignored you completely, tried to kick or spit on you, or something else you didn't want to know.

You stumbled upon a mirror, you looked...

different from when you were alive, alot shorter, you kept the same clothes you died in though, it was a struggle the first few days but you managed to stay alive and relatively unharmed, you always were resourceful.

Eventually you ended up on the cusp of cannibal town, your overalls were covered in dirt and whatever else, you were curled up against to some wall when she found you, in all her old woman glory.

"Good grief youth today is pathetic, how'd you even get down here you little shit?" she tsked as she bent down and picked you up by your overalls, you barely had a chance to react before she put you on her hip and continued her way home.

She didn't put you down as she entered her home claiming that you'd get mud on her floors,

She filled up her bathtub with warm water and bubbles, she took off your shoes and plopped you right in the tub, she put a glob of shampoo into your hair and foamed it up like one would bathe a pet.

She left the bathroom as you looked around the bathroom , confused on why this random old lady just picked you up like a soggy stray dog and dunked you into warm water, and put soap in your hair.

You weren't complaining by any means but you were caught off-guard.

She came back within a few minutes carrying children's clothing like the other cannibals wore, she washed your hair and your back, scrubbing off the grime, she dried you off and put the clothes on you, the next few hours were a blur, she picked you up, sat you at a table and placed what looked to be part of a raw arm on your plate.

You stared at it while she went ahead and dug it,

She raised an eyebrow, "you one of those vegetable people?"

You shook your head, poking at the arm slice

"Speak up, are you mute?"

You look up at her, "No ma'am."

"Speak up you sound like a mouse, now use those teeth of yours and eat."

You simply nodded and opened your mouth to dig into the arm,

You'd rather not eat what you assumed to be another person but you hadn't eaten in days and well, it was rude to refuse a free meal, right?

After the meal Susan handed you a toothbrush and told you to brush, giving you a set of pajamas to change into before leaving you to do a night routine,

Once done she picked you up and tucked you into a bed, turning off the lights and closing the door leaving you in pitch black darkness.

Living with Susan wasn't particularly easy but it was better then when you were alive, you didn't have to worry where your next meal came from, or maybe you did considering Susan had a diet of sinner meat, you didn't have to worry about not making ends meet, about the possibility of the folks you dealt too coming for you,

You did miss your family terribly though, you wondered if they missed you, or if they've found your corpse yet, maybe you were permanently put as a missing person, maybe you were chopped up into pieces,You didn't want to know.

Susan would teach you how to properly eat someone, you already had sharp teeth so you were a quick learner in that regard [Although you did prefer normal food]

You would cower behind her and she'd grab you by your shoulder and move you Infront of her, telling you to stand up straight, smacking your lower back with her cane if needed, some days She'd place a book on your head and have you practice walking around with it to correct your posture.

You wouldn't talk much at first but soon became a chatterbox with Susan, and mostly only Susan, keeping talking to others at a minimum unless Susan made you, she paraded you around cannibal town getting you used to the tight-knit community.

You soon went from a rather timid and frankly weak child to a more confident person, Susan wasn't usually seen without you skipping along behind her, eventually once she deemed you as proper she took you to Rosie's Emporium to introduce you to her and obviously get some treats,

"This is [Name] I got them off the streets and I made em' into a proper member of society, [Name] stand up straight, say hello"

Susan said moving you to the front where Rosie was,

"Hello."

Rosie immediately adored you, after all you were small enough to put in her pocket, she leaned down to shake your hand, and in that time

Susan proceeded to accidentally left you at the emporium and Rosie saw her chance and took it,

"Well aren't you adorable! Let Auntie Rosie spoil you, okay?"

Within seconds you were sat in a comfy chair with a plate of cannibalistic desserts infront of you and Rosie across from you, chatting until Susan came back for you two hours later.

She knew she left you after like five minutes she just didn't want to make the trip back and let Rosie babysit you.

Another time she took you to Rosie's Emporium the infamous radio demon was there, and while you didn't particularly know much about overlords and the like since you mainly stuck with Susan, or in the safe parts of cannibal town, you did know that overlords were more or less dangerous,

Susan did not care though and immediately started insulting the radio demon,

"Why don't you have a wife yet? Do you not like woman? Then why don't you have a husband then??"

"Susan, I believe that's none of your-"

"It's because you don't brush your fucking teeth isn't it,"

"Susan-"

"You probably blind all the ladies looking like Rudolph's nose"

"Excuse me?"

You quickly intervene before Susan ends up being the radio man's dinner, Alastor tilts his head at you and bends down,

"And who is this Little one?"

Susan moves you Infront of her and puts her cane between you and Alastor,

"My grandchild, they're very well-mannered unlike you now get away before you influence them to listen to your modern jazz music"

"̵̢̯̫͕̀̀̓̕M̷̧̧͎̬̹̦͚̺̼̳͊͒̽̌̅͑́̕͘ỹ̶̱̮͙̕ ̴͇̹̣͙̖̉̽̏̊͜m̸̡̧̱̲̱͔͉̲̫͋́̄̎̄̔̈̈́͠ö̵̢̢̙͍̩̩̮̺́̃̿̎ḑ̵̰̪͎̀̿̔͊̒͛̄ͅͅͅę̸̪́ř̴̛̳̥̭̼̌͊̄̉̑̽̇̚n̴͕̥̗̻͕̊̅͐̒̂̌͆̚̚͜͠ ̵̛̪̹̔̈́̈́͂͝͝Ẃ̸̽̓̈́̾͂ͅH̵̨̢̯̳̗̦͕̭̯̑̈͆̇̚̕̚Ḁ̸͍̱̩̠̼͚̾̉̚T̵̥̠͓͛͊"̸̛͎̼̺́̔̀̎͛̀̈̕͠

Thankfully Rosie soon appeared before Alastor and Susan could get into a brawl,

She handed you a lil' box of treats and sent you on your way with Susan.

A very polite way to get kicked out in your opinion,

The next time you see Alastor he brings Niffty, trying to get her to influence you enough to drive Susan to insanity.

It backfired.

You, on the rare occasions you roam outside of cannibal town you see someone you may have known during life, you usually don't interact with them, but sometimes they recognize you too, they give a look of mixed disbelief, pity and guilt or just indifference, you made similar decisions to them.

You saw a member of your family, trying to sell something on the streets one time, you went up to them with the confidence of Susan talking to Alastor,

You know they recognized you, you may look different but you were still you, just better then before.

Their face dropped seeing you, filled with guilt and shame, you weren't supposed to be down here, of all places, you should've gotten to live to be old and wrinkly, shaking their head they shoo'd you away in what you assumed was a way to tell you to move on, make the best of your afterlife.

"I don't know you, now shoo' go home."

When you got home to Susan making cannibal meatloaf, nagging you about getting home in a timely manner as you take off your shoes and place them by the door, it gives you a somewhat nostalgic feeling,

You may never seeing the majority of your family again, after all maybe they're in heaven or below with you,

They'll always be your family and while they weren't perfect but they loved you, and you loved them, and you always will even if you were apart.

And now you had a new family member, Your Grandma Susan,

And you loved her, and while she didn't outwardly say it, you knew through her actions of making you a scarf, bringing you a bowl of peeled or cut fruit, or something else, she loved you too.

good evening folks! Hope you enjoyed this, I'm making my way through the requests now so tune on in later for those!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #susan & reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel susan #hazbin susan #hazbin rosie

[theobjectofyourire]

Being Daemon's Daughter Would Include (Part III)

a/n: hi hi hi! once again, I'm so in my feels and absolutely blown away by all the love on this series! I definitely plan to continue this well into the reader's adulthood, I'm just enjoying the baby/pregnancy stuff so much! I got a little carried away again, so you get lots of daemon/wife goodness in this one, too! lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist for future parts!

Part I / Part II

summary: Daemon has always gone to any lengths to protect you, even before you were born. And oh, what gifts he will bestow...

cw: I actually don't think there are any warnings for this one! Daemon threatens violence?? other than that, it's just fluff. inspired by the scene in ep8.

~~~~~~~

A Dragon's Custom

-In the very heart of Dragonmont, amidst sulfur and brimstone, Daemon Targaryen felt a true hero as he retrieved the dragon egg that would soon rest in his child's cradle.

-The day of your birth drawing ever nearer, your mother's belly greatly swelled. Growing larger by the day, he had teased, a comment which had been received by his lady wife with both a chuckle and a threat of violence upon his person. He expected no less from such a woman, his eyes sparkling as he knelt before her, pressing his forehead against her stomach as he whispered to you.

-"You must be brave, little one. I will soon need you to defend me from your mother's temper."

-His words earned him what was, admittedly, a rather playful slap to the back of the head. "You truly are a scoundrel, dear husband," she sighed, weaving her fingers through his silver hair.

-He merely smiled as he kissed her belly, her hands, her wrists, finally rising to meet her lips. "Your scoundrel, my love."

-She melted in the arms of her dragon, who murmured sweet nothings into her hair as he slowly ran his fingers up and down her spine, soothing her aches with his warm touch. She all but whined when he pulled away with a gentle farewell.

-"Must you go?"

-"Aye," he mumbled, lips against hers in one final kiss, "but I promise you'll be happier for it."

-"I disagree. I'd much prefer you by my side."

-"As would I, my love, but our child deserves a gift only I can bestow, and I daren't wait any longer to retrieve it." Her brows furrowed at his words, uncertain of their meaning as he caressed her belly with the back of his hand. "The child of the Rogue Prince deserves a dragon egg, do they not?"

-Your mother's eyes filled with tears. She was, of course, familiar with the Targaryen customs and had dearly hoped they would be passed to you, but she had worried, as of late, whether such a thing would be encouraged.

-Though cherished by many, not all in Viserys' court approved of your mother. The Hightowers, in particular, had been averse to the match, for while her bloodline was undeniably strong, she herself could not be considered a tame woman.

-She was well-versed in the graces, it was true, and a delight to all she entertained. In such matters, the nobles could not find an ill word to speak against her, but nor could they deny the indocility, even rakishness cast in her shadow. She had not known Daemon a fortnight when the King's own Hand had discovered them in the Dragonpit, having just returned from a moonlit ride atop Caraxes, and in the midst of acts unbefitting a woman of her station.

-Ser Otto, in fairness, was not wrong in his judgement. In their youth, your mother did little to quell Daemon's chaos. If anything, she encouraged it, thriving alongside him in his adventures. He had pleaded with the King to deny the marriage, and Viserys had half a mind to listen until he saw his brother's smile. As one, they seemed something out of Valyria itself, in all its glory, and he could not bring himself to tear them apart. He gladly consented to their union, going so far as to allow a Valyrian ceremony with only a handful of guests and the stars standing witness.

-In the months that followed, they retreated to your father's ancestral seat at Dragonstone, preferring to avoid the politics and scheming of King's Landing at all possible costs. The gods, it seemed, were not so easily satisfied.

-A raven was flown to the Red Keep shortly after your mother fell pregnant, and the news was met with no small amount of excitement. Your father's first marriage had left him without an heir, and many had presumed the Rogue Prince had little interest in furthering the line. Viserys requested his presence at court, if only to determine his brother's true thoughts about the babe.

-Daemon arrived on dragonback a few days later, descending with the impish smile well-known to him, and something warm, almost kind stirring in his eyes. There was no doubt of his happiness, a great relief to his elder brother.

-Viserys was, indeed, gladdened by the fact that they had found peace on Dragonstone, but he was eager to see them return to the Red Keep before your mother gave birth. This much, the King had insisted upon, for the Maesters and midwives of the great castle were said to be the most skillful in the realm. Daemon could deny many things, but his brother's summons was not among them.

-"We shall return, brother," he had said with a cold smile. "Upon your command, my child will be born in this nest of vipers, but never will I allow a single drop of venom to so much as graze their skin."

-"Daemon, you needn't-"

-Your father would not hear it, paying no mind that interrupting his King was easily a punishable offense. "They will have a dragon of mine own choosing," he declared, "and shall be raised as their mother and I see fit, in accordance with the customs of our ancestors."

-"As is your right." Viserys maintained the stoicism expected of him as King, but a genuine joy shone through the façade. "Your child shall want for nothing," he promised.

-"Nor shall my wife." Daemon's eyes narrowed as he lowered his voice, ensuring that none but his brother would hear his solemn vow. "Should any in your court speak so much as a word against either of them, I shall gladly cut out their tongue." Without thought, he found his fingers dancing upon the hilt of Dark Sister, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "If your dear Hand is anything less than welcoming, I will take great pleasure in relieving him of his duties by way of beheading."

-Were it anyone else, such a threat would have been followed by severe consequence, but Viserys had a soft spot for his younger brother, whose fire so much reminded him of their mother. Daemon climbed atop Caraxes, returned to Dragonstone, and no more was said on the matter.

-He did not tell your mother what was spoken, nor did she wish to hear of it. She knew well what your father's temper could do, coupled with his unyielding loyalty. Upon his heated word, you would have a dragon. She did not care for anything else. She brought his hands to her lips, kissing each knuckle before releasing him to his task, wondering which egg he would choose. In his mind, however, there was no question.

-His cousin, the Princess Rhaenys, had recently departed with her children after an extended stay on Dragonstone. Her own dragon, Meleys, had accompanied them and laid a clutch of eggs in the island's volcano, Dragonmont. It seemed the greatest of all omens, for years before his cousin had claimed Meleys, when he himself was just a babe, Daemon's mother was her dragonrider.

-Though he could scarcely remember her, he had been told by all that he was, undoubtedly, his mother's son. In her arms, to the dismay of the Maesters, she had taken him upon the back of her dragon for his first flight not a fortnight after his birth. A creature of scarlet scales and copper claws, she was one of the swiftest dragons in the realm, even after so many years of comfort. He could not think of a better gift for you than an egg from his own mother's dragon.

-The descent was not an easy one. Many had tried and failed, the slightest misstep resulting in the most fatal fall, but your father was not afraid. He relished in the danger of it. He was not halfway to the bottom when he felt the mass shift, crumbling under his boot and echoing throughout the volcano as hunks of rock hit the ground. Any other man might catch his breath or clutch his heart. Your father only chuckled as he continued to maneuver himself masterfully. Going to such lengths for a child not yet born to him, smirking in the face of risk and finding no fear in his heart, it made him feel a good man. He did not know if his talents were well-suited to fatherhood, but of this, he was certain: you would always be protected.

-Leaping to the ground, he imagined spending the rest of his days defending you, willing at every moment to vanquish any enemy with a single stroke of his sword. Though your mother was a rogue in her own right in her earlier years, she had, as of late, preferred comfort and calm to the uncertainty she had once craved. Of course, he hoped your life would be peaceful, but he wondered if that's truly what you would want, or if you would take after him, forever trying to satisfy your own impulsivity.

-There were seven eggs in Meleys' clutch. Seven eggs for seven kingdoms, Daemon could not help but think, smiling as he gathered them with care. Each were unique unto themselves, though they bore the mark of their mother. One had golden flecks reminiscent of his brother's crown. Another was as pink as a maiden's blush, but it was the seventh egg that most caught your father's eye.

-As crimson as Caraxes' scales, with dapples of a spring rose and shadows of the purest black, there was no gift so befitting the child of the Rogue Prince. He held it dearly in his hands, admiring the way it shimmered in the slight streak of sunlight. They would place it in the warming chambers until your mother gave birth, where it would then reside in your cradle until it hatched. The thought of you flying alongside him on a dragon of such striking beauty stirred in him a giddiness he had never before felt. He wondered if this was fatherhood. Could he really be so lucky?

-He returned to your mother somewhat filthy, ash smeared across his cheeks while his leathers retained the scent of the volcanic rock.

-"You stink of dragon," she said, crinkling her nose as he drew nearer.

-He gave her a wry smile as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "My darling wife," he murmured, "I know very well that you love it."

-She giggled as she brushed her lips against his, hands tangling in his hair. He smelled of adventure. Danger. Power. He was a Targaryen, through and through, and she secretly hoped you would be the same.

-She pulled away and this time, it was Daemon who moaned in protest. She merely chuckled in response. "Shall I have a bath drawn for you, husband?"

-His fingers danced across the small of her back as his eyes twinkled. "Only, my love, if you'll join me."

taglist: @rosaryos @justaproudslytherpuff @sirlovel @fulla02

#daemon fanfic #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #hotd #hotd 1x08 #daemon x reader #daemon x you #daemon fic #daemon fanfiction #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen fluff #father/daughter #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon imagine

[wolfepirat3]

Okay i like... just realized that ive literally never expanded on my love for westerns besides the copious amounts of references in my fic and the one picture of all my westerns...

So heres a list of all the westerns in my collection (plus my favorites, ill mark them with a *)

Shows

Gunsmoke (seasons 1-5)

Laramie (seasons 1-4)*

Wanted: Dead or Alive

Lonesome Dove The Series

Magnificent Seven 1998 (season 1-2)*

Rawhide (season 1)

Shane 1966*

Lonesome Dove (miniseries)

Return to Lonesome Dove (miniseries)

Sugarfoot (season 1-4)

Movies

Streets of Laredo

Dead Man's Walk

The Magnificent Seven 1960*

The Magnificent Seven 2015

Tombstone*

Young Guns*

Young Guns II*

A Fistful of Dollars

For A Few Dollars More

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Pale Rider

Hang 'Em High

High Plains Drifter

The Outlaw Josey Wales

3:10 to Yuma 2007*

Shane 1952*

Once Upon A Time in The West*

Evil Roy Slade

Books

Appaloosa

Brimstone

Shane*

Blood, Guts, and Glory

Saddle by Starlight

The Gunslinger

Lonesome Dove*

Comanche Moon

Dead Man's Walk

Streets of Laredo

The Big Sky*

The Way West

Seven Ox Seven Part One, Escondido Bound

The Tall Stranger

Kilkenny

Hondo

Showdown at Yellow Butte

The Virginian*

Miscellaneous

Adventures of the Old West (docuseries)

Outlaws & Gunslingers (docuseries)

Legends of The Old West (docuseries)

The Classic TV Western Collection (40 misc. episodes)

TV Western Collection (27 misc. episodes)

Western Collection (8 misc. movies)

The Wild Wild West the Series (book)

The Hollywood Western (book)

A Pictorial History of Westerns (book)*

Please please please ask me about any of them if you like any please!!

Those are all of the physical westerns i have, but there are plenty more i love but havent gotten my hands on yet!

#westerns #western #cowboys #collection #western collection #the magnificent seven 1998 #magnificent seven #laramie #shane 1966 #lonesome dove #dollars trilogy #western movies #western media

[artblueminecraftorchid]

Hell is defined as the absence of God;

I hope Hell is empty as a grave.

I hope Satan and all his legions lounge

On stone and rocky outcrops, bored to tears

With only howling wind their company.

I hope no wail arises, no damned one weeps;

No torture inflicted, and none to inflict upon

But dust and brimstone laid to bitter waste

Alone.

Heaven is the full presence of God;

I hope Heaven’s gates are full to bursting

Universe’s expanse trod by every soul.

I hope the angels are woefully outnumbered

By human souls rejoicing in their Creator

And living on in the joy He promised us

All of us

Forever.

But most of all, I hope amongst the crowds

I find you, happy and safe and free of pain;

Blessed eternity to live right down the golden street

And come over for the thousandth time.

I hope Heaven has LaCroix and Jet’s Pizza

(Is that heretical? I’m not sure, but anyway)

And that we can eat together and stay up late

Make some art and play some DND

Put on makeup and try on silly outfits

Tell stupid jokes until we’re crying.

I hope Jesus is howling with laughter

On the couch next to us

Mother Mary wiping tears with her veil

St Joseph setting down his carving knife

And adding onto the bit.

I hope Hell is so dreadfully empty

Heaven so joyfully full

That every hurtful word and hand is forgiven

The people who hurt us worst redeemed in Christ

Our own souls clean as whistles, sin forgotten

As we make new lives in God’s great glory

Praising Him by the love we share.

I hope Heaven’s always open

And that you’re there.

#orchids write poetry

[mcgnagallsarmy]

Top 10 Spuffy fics I’ve read (Jan 2024)

20 20 24 Minutes Go by smellslikecorruption [PG]

Buffy and Spike and a birthday that goes unmentioned.

A Different Kind of Hell by OffYourBird [NC-17]

Jumping through Glory's tower portal, Buffy and Spike find themselves in a hell dimension they never expected. One that looks suspiciously like 1880's London. Will they find a way back home? Will the truth behind William the Bloody at last make itself known? Will Buffy ever stop butchering the Queen's English? Join them and find out. Starts off at the end of "The Gift."

A Waxy Gent Chuckled Over My Fab Jazzy Quips by violettathepiratequeen [PG-13]

The Scooby gang is sick and tired of Spike and Buffy being so on edge after the engagement spell, and they have a plan to restore peace to Giles' apartment.

A Wonderful Awful Idea by The Danish Bird [NC-17]

With nothing apocalyptic looming on the horizon and hoping to avoid a certain thick-headed commando, it seems like the perfect opportunity when Giles mentions a monster terrorising the good people of Lake Tahoe. What could be more merry than a Christmas trip to the mountains to investigate? The gang is all coming along, defanged vampire in tow. Buffy should totally be able to deal with the demon, ignore Spike and their recent “engagement,” enjoy some resort-town shopping, and be back with Mom on Christmas Eve. Right? What could possibly go wrong? Set in season 4 at the beginning of Doomed.

All Five by acekoomboom [PG]

Buffy goes through the stages of grief as she tries to move on from his death at the hellmouth.

The Forbidden Bone by bewildered [NC-17]

Buffy always knew Spike was hot. But now that he's their prisoner and she has the leisure to really look at him, she understands why. It's the cheekbones. She cannot resist. Dedicated to r/buffy and all the Very Intelligent Men there who have kindly mansplained that James Marsters's cheekbones are compelling, hypnotic mysteries of creation that we poor, weak women are powerless to resist, and the only reason anybody likes Spike as a character. I am so grateful that they have graciously pointed it out on so many occasions, and can only hope that someday my wanton ladyparts will stop forcing me to adore Spike. One of these days, I may find the strength to tear myself away from the Forbidden Bone's diabolical influence, but in the meantime, here is some cheekbone-inspired maybe-a-little-dubcon cracksmut. Enjoy!

Hills of Iowa by the_moonmoth [PG]

She felt bigger here, like the landscape. Like she could unfold everything she was and still find space for it all.

I Can Get Money by scratchmeout [NC-17]

Spike puts his past to good use to get money for Buffy. However, things become complicated when her ex shows up and targets Spike.

The Rub-Down by Grief Counseling [NC-17]

Buffy has one hell of a sore back. Spike has exceptional hands and massage oil. How can this be resolved? Sex, guys. It's resolved with sex. Let this post-Intervention, Season 5 porn adventure commence! With oil!

Winter Wonder Hell by Synefred [NC-17]

Shaken by the memories that flooded through him when his soul was returned, Angel took off into the night, leaving Buffy and an ever growing portal to a hell dimension behind him. With no other choice, Buffy stabbed Spike, condemning him to an eternity in Hell. The only problem was that as he was sucked in, he pulled Buffy in with him. Buffy always expected Hell to be full of fire and brimstone, but now she is trapped in a twilight realm, where the cold bites and the darkness waits. As she and Spike battle their new reality, and each other, the lingering question is, what will they do when the snow finally falls?

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #spuffy #ficrec #monthly ficrec #violettathepiratequeen #acekoomboom #themoonmothwrites #scratchmeout #dampersandspoons

[wxnheart]

𝙰𝚙𝚎𝚡 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛 - 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝/𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝟐/𝟑)

Your shoes and clothes are stained red with the blood of the fallen, all who fought valiantly in the name of the Imperium; so-called sons, expendable, pathetic, weak. Failures. Would they have had but a tenth of the talent of his brothers and sisters. Would they have had but a tenth of your courage. It was a futile effort but still, you stand strong in the face of his fearsome rage, one he had so desperately wished to quell. It was a rage that would be your undoing. It was a rage borne from your rejection. You dare say no to him? AGAIN?! In favor of that tyrant you call the Emperor?! You will know true strength... and you will die in its embrace.

Angron

It seems there is no end to the corruption, greed, and ineptitude that plagues the Imperium. Once he could look at it proudly but now... what a shell of its former glory. The loneliness and emptiness plague him, battling side by side with duty. He would rather it and everything it represented burned in the fires of Horus' ambition but dutybound he was and dutybound he would remain. He sees in you the idealism of ten millennia past, something that beloved Konor would've commended. He sees in you a kindred spirit, and he is lonely. Oh, how he's so lonely. But dutybound he is. And dutybound he will remain. And so, too, will you. Right by his side.

Roboute Guilliman

And with his father's parting words has an illustrious age ended, leaving his foundation shaken. Vengeful. The bitter bile rises in his throat. He would have said more, would have demonstrated the depths of his ardor. Perhaps things would be different, perhaps the bitterness wouldn't have consumed him so. But they aren't, and it does. Many things have been lost to him. It cannot be you, too. And most certainly not to him. He prepares to fight to the death. His foundation—your salvation—will be restored.

Rogal Dorn

He was a believer once. Of his Father, an ideal he strove to impart to the masses, he was a believer once. Words adorned with praise, extolling the virtues of Man and he was to be His messenger, oh, how he was a believer once. And even then, to the moment his greatest glory died a fiery death before him did he he believe, truly believe in the Father. And now in fire and brimstone does the Son pay for sins of the Father, sins that taste like brokenness, foolishness, and reverence against your lips. He believes again. In you. And so begins the fall of Man.

Lorgar Aurelian

You are important to his brother. This he knows unequivocally. To have the upper hand in a time of such upheaval and witness the Praetorian fall at last? Glorious. Finally, he would be vindicated. Much has been taken from him; much has been owed to him, and finally—FINALLY—he would have something to call his own and rightfully claim the spoils of war: you. And if he could not have you, Dorn most certainly couldn't, either.

Perturabo

It is said that only in death does duty end, but yours is everlasting. For a thousand lifetimes, He has loved and for a thousand more lifetimes He loves still. You have felt the weight of each and every one of them, and no matter how many times you've run, there He was to find and love you still. Shackled. You have become shackled to Him, an ornate chain that no matter how hard you pull cannot be broken. No matter the circumstances, it remains intact. It is said that only in death does duty end, but yours is everlasting. And when He spoke his last and transcended, with you made to go with him, did you realize that your duty had truly just begun. And even in death would He love you still.

The Emperor of Mankind

#cutie 𝓠. #warhammer 40k #angron #roboute guilliman #lorgar aurelian #rogal dorn #perturabo #the emperor of mankind #primarch #primarch x reader #emperor of mankind x reader #wh40crack. #yandere40k. #these were the templates i'd written that became the basis for yandere40k.

[iamafanofcartoons]

Psychogator gives us "The Waiting Room" with Ruby Rose, Claire Redfield, Heavy, and Hellboy.

Somewhere in an omni-dimensional realm: The Merchant's Inventory...

(Claire Redfield finds herself in the bright room, where she sees the other three characters sitting on their seats. They seem to be waiting for the same thing she is. She just sits on her seat, taking a magazine and tries to read...though she can't help but feel curious)

Claire: *To Ruby* So...what are you supposed to be? Some kind of Red Riding Hood?

Ruby: Huh? Oh, my name's Ruby. I'm kind of a monster hunter.

Claire: And you...? Red Guy?

Hellboy: "Red Guy"? Really?

C: You some kind of demon? Who I guess also hunts demons?

H: That's kind of leaving out important details, but...yeah. That's the gist of it.

C: And the other guy's some of mercenary.

Heavy: I am Heavy Weapons Guy. I was commissioned to Red Team.

C: And none of you are weirded out by this?

R: Mmm...Nope.

Heavy: Niet.

Hellboy: Trust me. I've found weirder things in weirder worlds than this.

C: Okay, then...

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

Claire: So, how did you guys hear about this place?

Hellboy: I was recommended to it by a friend of mine, and I was pretty much okay going into any place that can cook up a good new firearm for me. No questions asked.

Heavy: My Soldier friend brought here one day.

R: A Blacksmith Lady give me a ticket for a dimensional-traveling gig. I told them I just wanted to see cool weapons instead of just being around people. That's what's school's for.

Heavy: Da. School is good, Tiny Sniper. Where do you go?

R: Ever heard of Beacon Academy?

Heavy: I do not. This is good school?

R: *sigh* It's the BEST. You can learn how to fight monsters, how to work as a team, but the only bad thing is learning about history and stuff.

Heavy: Learning is good. I went to Soviet College of Mines, Farms, and Science. I have PHD on Russian Literature.

Claire: Do you...use that in your line of work?

Heavy: More than you think. *Turns to Hellboy* Hell-Man, what is your favorite enemy to kill in war?

Hellboy: I don't know about "war", but...I think my favorite enemy is probably giants. Either normal giants or gods, it's all the same to me. It makes things a lot more challenging.

Heavy: Killing giant robots is good thing, but to kill Spy is glorious thing! Brings glory to team! What about you, Little Rose? You are killing type.

Ruby: MY favorite enemy? I-I don't know. Beowolves, Ursas, Nevermores, Geists...It's like choosing what my favorite kind of cookie is!

Heavy: Hahaha! I like you, Tiny Sniper!

Claire: I got a few enemies I've come across. A few lickers and an asshole tyrant are kind of a breath of fresh air after swarms of zombies.

Heavy: Do Lickers disguise as best friend and stab you in the back?

Claire: Well, no, but...I have lost a few good friends to worse...

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

Ruby: *Turns to Heavy* Why do you call me "Tiny Sniper"?

Heavy: You are tiny and Sniper, no? You wear red, fitting for RED Team. Your gun hits like Machina. You earn this by being futuristic killer. You should try out for RED Team.

Ruby: I guess that could be fun. I mean, If I'm only there to kill monsters and robots and not...you know, people.

Heavy: Da. This is good for you. I suggest helping us against Gray Manns' robots and Merasmus' undead. You will kill many of them before dying, I think.

Ruby: I hope it doesn't come to that. Yang will get pretty worried if I do.

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

Hellboy: So, Redfield, what heat do you usually carry?

Claire: Anything I can get my hands on, really. Shotguns, grenade launchers, miniguns, secret weapons with infinite ammo. That sort of stuff. Usually, though, I rely on a good handgun or two, like my brother's Samurai Edge. What about you? You seem to carry a lot in that coat.

Hellboy: Well, it's your usual monster-killing stuff. Brimstone Grenades, Valisia's Gift, Agrippa's charms, but most of the time, I often rely on my Good Samaritan. I'm not a good shot, but it uses really big bullets.

Ruby: What rounds do you even use for them to be that big? That sounds like something that my Crescent Rose uses.

Hellboy: I usually use custom-made 22 millimeter Whoppers. Made them, myself. Holy water, clove leaf, silver shavings, white oak...the works.

Heavy: Hmph. Not much to be of use for Sasha.

Hellboy: Yeah? What rounds do you use?

Heavy: BIG.

Claire: Are we talking .300 Weatherby Mag?

Heavy: Bigger.

Ruby: .50 Cal?

Heavy: Bigger than .50 Cal. They are handmade, custom-tooled cartridges with classified diameter.

Hellboy: Geez. Why's that?

Heavy: So enemy cannot use ammunition...but Sasha can chew through THEIRS.

Ruby: That sounds...SO. COOL! Love

Heavy: *nods* I think so.

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

Hellboy: *To Ruby* So, Ruby, what's this "Crescent Rose" of yours? Some kind of a gun?

Ruby: Oh, my sweetheart is more than just a gun. It's a customizable, high-impact sniper rifle that's also a mechanical scythe. It pretty much uses .50 Cal bullets built with Dust.

Hellboy: *cocks a brow, unimpressed* Dust.

Ruby: Fire Dust, Ice Dust, Electric Dust...I can use Gravity Dust to launch myself like a missile. And if there's one thing you need to know about me, it's that I'm not slow.

Claire: You just "launch" yourself with your gun? That sounds...dangerously irresponsible.

Heavy: I know of this. Soldier does this with rocket launcher all the time.

Ruby: Yeah, but I usually have a semblance, or "superpower", to use speed. I usually do this to outpace monsters WAY bigger than me! I move around like a blur!

Hellboy: So, your world has weapons that are also guns, bullets that use magic, and you fight monsters bigger and deadlier than you.

Ruby: Yeah! Killing monsters is the coolest thing to do in the world! *Realizes it's Hellboy* Oh. Um...I hope I didn't offend you.

Hellboy: Offend me? *He smirks, genuinely excited* You just made my winter!

www.deviantart.com/psychogator/art/The-Waiting-Room-997558423

#claire redfield #resident evil #hellboy #dark horse comics #team fortress 2 #heavy tf2 #tf2 heavy #rwby #psychogator #rwby fanart #ruby rose #rwby ruby #rwby ruby rose

[honourablejester]

Random Thoughts around D&D Westerns

Okay. So this started out as me thinking about character concepts for a D&D western-type campaign, and then moved to me thinking about setting elements for a western campaign, and then devolved into me thinking about both westerns and D&D style fantasy as genres, so like … bear with me? I’m trying to figure out how to pull this back and put it in order.

But. Okay. Let’s do it the way I did it. Let’s start from the characters.

So I’ve been noodling around the odd western type character concept for D&D the last little while, things like a druid/light cleric using guiding bolt for high noon style duels (and thorn whip as a lasso), and probably stemming originally from Kossi, my knowledge cleric/fey ranger frontier postwoman character that I’m playing in a solo campaign. So I was thinking about western characters in D&D, and thinking about the archetypes of westerns and how they’d fit.

You have things like the lone wanderer seeking justice or vengeance. The sly gambler with the heart of gold. The fire and brimstone preacher. The fiery homesteader fighting to drive bandits or railway barons off their land. The taciturn bounty hunter more at home in the wilderness than the town. The bewildered easterner about to get a sharp lesson in the way of things out west. The civil war veteran (of either side) trying to make a new life out here where people don’t care who you were, and where the rough and tumble lessons of war won’t look too out of place. The foolish miner lured to his death by greed for gold. The desperado determined to die free, go out in a blaze of glory.

The western, as a genre, is evocative. And, well, of course it is. The western is basically an attempt to valorise and mythologise a particular period of history, to gild over or ignore or straight up heroicise the, uh, less than laudable elements of that era. It’s a mythology, so of course it has some very evocative imagery.

But it is, also, a product/reimagining of a very specific historical and cultural context. And there’s elements of that particular setting that maybe you don’t want to carry over. And others that you do, but they need some set up to build in.

So I started thinking about how to get a western setting, how to make a campaign that would feel like a western. And there are …

See, the thing is, D&D kind is a lot of the way there already? When you think about the kind of stories that show up in westerns, the band of heroes defending a town, or the hunters sent out into the wilderness to track down a dangerous foe. Westerns definitely are one of the progenitor genres for D&D’s whole brand of fantasy to begin with. So what would make a setting feel more deliberately western than just standard D&D?

And, I mean. You have your basic biome shift. Put the story somewhere more arid, like the stereotypical western desert, instead of in a European forest analogue, and already it feels a bit more western. There’s also technology. Firearms, a telegraph analogue, trains. Bring some Eberron elements in, that’ll shift things a bit. But are those just cosmetic changes? Well. Yes but no. Put a pin in that for later. For now, ignoring what a western setting looks like, what does a western setting feel like?

And I think, to a large extent, it comes down to theme. Westerns had a particular set of themes that ran through them, and that’s where the backbone of your setting will come from.

So. Some of the themes I think you see a lot in westerns:

Land Ownership/Land Custodianship/Territory. Westerns are about land, on an extremely intrinsic level. It’s where the colonial underpinnings of the entire genre really show up. Think of all the western books and movies and series you’ve seen that are about claiming land and then defending that claim. So many stories are about being driven off your land. The homesteader under threat from robber barons and cattle barons and railway barons. Towns under threat from ‘Indians’. Miners getting driven off their claims. Who owns what territory. Who has the right to hold what territory. Who can defend their right to that territory. And there is … there’s a cyclical kind of terror in there. A cyclical colonisation. Because the first settlers went out there and took land from the first nations, set up their own towns and ways of life, and then the great civilising forces of the east, the railways and the telegraph wires and the big ranches, rolled in and stole it from them in turn. There’s a kind of a ‘what you do unto others will be done unto you’ sort of terror underpinning a lot of the ethos of the genre. The central theme of a lot of westerns is, basically, the territorial dispute. The land, who owns the land.

Resources/The Lure of Gold. Linked to that, there’s the resources of the land, and who gets to use them, and how far do they get to use them, and who gets murdered in the process. Gold rush. Oil. Lumber. Water. Again, very much linked back to the territorial dispute, but often in a more directly destructive way. Who can not just own the land but destroy the land. How much does owning the land give you the right to use it. And, linked from that, if you own one bit of land, and you destroy it, how does that affect, say, everything downstream of your land? (Mines and mining has a lot of knock on effects).

Civilisation vs Wilderness/Urban vs Rural. Again, linked back, but a lot of the underlying mythology of the Wild West was about being that halfway place, between the full untamed wilderness (or the full ‘savagery’ of the native peoples) and the full civilisation of the big eastern cities. A lot of (particularly later) westerns are about valorising that lost freedom and independence and rough and tumble ‘honesty’, before the railways came through and the cities built up. Which leads to a smaller scale:

Personal Freedom vs Rule of Law. Outlaws. Sheriffs. Bounty Hunters. Gunslingers. The fundamental conflict between a person’s right to do what they think best, exacerbated by so many people feeling like they had to do things for themselves because they were on their own out in the ‘wilderness’, and the need for the civilising, but also potentially tyrannical, forces of law and order. Bringing law and civilisation to the wild frontier. Personal vengeance vs impersonal justice. Corruption. Freedom. Basically, a lot of the conflict in a western will primarily run along the law vs chaos alignment axis. Good and evil depend on your interpretations of the players involved, but the fundament of the conflict will be order vs chaos. And also:

‘Progress’ vs Preservation. The thing about westerns, particularly the ‘golden age’ between the end of the civil war and around about the 1890s, was that they were right in the middle of that 19th century theme of industrialisation. As well as the colonial theme of ‘progressive civilisation vs backwards barbarism’ (hence the inverted commas on ‘progress’). This is a whole bundling together of the above themes, but westerns had a definite theme of encroaching progress. The old way of life being bulldozed for the new. The railroads are coming. Law and order are coming. The old rough and tumble frontier life is dying. The last great gunslinger is about to have his final duel. The famous desperadoes are going out in a blaze of glory. Progress is coming. And it will destroy everything in its path. But will it be a better future? And again, that kind of ties back to the colonial thing. Westerns are weirdly poised where the white settlers are experiencing what they did to those before them.

So. With all of that said. How much of that do we want to emulate? How much of that do we need to emulate? Maybe I don’t want to get into colonialism and land ownership right now, maybe all I want is a setting where a lonesome spellslinger can wander up to a desert town seeking justice, or a rough and tumble party can get together to defend a town from some desperadoes.

But. On a macro geographic level. I do think there’s some elements you want about your setting to set up those kinds of stories.

On a basic level, you want a large region of contested, non-urbanised and non-agriculturalised land (at least in the European sense of ‘endless fields of tillage’), that is divided up into a lot of small territories, where the largest urban areas tend to be towns at best, and large sections of it are claimed by various different groups or even individual owners. This region needs to be bordered by one or several very urbanised and centrally controlled powers. Probably several, not necessarily because you want to directly mirror North vs South or America vs Mexico, but because this region has been the recipient of the leftovers of a lot of outside conflicts. It’s where people come to hide, or reinvent themselves.

And it’s also where people, powers, come to build themselves. So you want to give it resources. Things people want to come and take. The constant theme in westerns is, someone wants your land. Someone wants your gold. Someone wants your town. And why? What do you have that someone wants?

Maybe, since we’re in fantasy western territory, you want to give it a rare, mystical resource. Maybe you can link that up to the theme of progress, too. A particular mineral that allows the manufacture of more powerful, durable spellstones, that would enable someone to set up a network of sending stone stations that would allow news (and information for outside powers) to flow more easily. You know. A telegraph network. Anyway.

So. A large, divided, contested region, not directly occupied by but of interest to several nearby urbanised, civilised powers. An area where there has been a lot of successive waves of people coming in, often from conflicts in or between those surrounding civilised powers. An area with a distinctly fractured and individualistic ethos as a result. An area that maybe always did, because it was never natively inhabited by empire-building societies. Everyone is this land has always claimed their own piece, just big enough for themselves, and been content with that. Yeah, bigger groups wanted more, and wars were had, because people are people, but this idea of ever-expanding ‘progress’ is new and weird and kind of terrifying.

Is this sounding a lot like a typical D&D setting again? Well, I did say D&D has a lot of western in its bones.

So. How do you make it distinct, then? Is it just cosmetic elements, biome shifts and different technology? Give it a more directly desert, 19th century vibe? And, well, that is part of it. But it doesn’t necessarily have to be technology. You don’t have to give everyone a gun. There just has to be a theme of progress. Maybe it is that sending stone network. Maybe you do want to invent a fantasy railway. But you don’t necessarily need gunslingers directly.

As an option for the gun thing, you could give every character, regardless of class, a free ranged attack cantrip. Make it part of the local culture. Defense of home. Every kid in these parts gets taught enough magic to manage that. Shit, hon, everyone teaches their five year olds how to throw a firebolt around here. What if they meet critters out there? Or worse, people?

Mostly, you want to theme your adventures around small, independent towns and groups. You want a lot of the conflict to be over land, over who has the right to be where, over who has the right to take what. You want external regional threats that are attempting to push into the area, often under the guise of for its own good. You want a theme of freedom vs law. You want wilderness vs civilisation. Or ‘wilderness’ vs ‘civilisation’, given how loaded those terms are from a standing start. You want progress as both a promise and a threat. You want natural resources, you want greed, you want boom towns and magical mining and the communities downstream that are paying for it. You want bands of outlaws running from foreign wars and making it everyone else’s problem. You want folk heroes of dubious morality. You want big powers talking about big projects, like driving a new trade route straight through someone else’s territory, like stealing rivers to bring water to cities two hundred miles away, like carving out a whole mountain that doesn’t belong to them to fuel a magical revolution in another city just as far.

And, yeah. Looping back to character concepts and plot elements. Some specific elements and ideas that I might personally include:

An apprentice wizard who’s working as a sending stone operator for the newly established United Sending Corporation station in the local town. It’s the big new thing! You can send messages instantly to any town that has one! Think of how easy it’ll be to get news! It only costs a bit per message. And yeah, the USC high ups are all big city folk from down on the coast, but hey! All the operators are local, and it is a good idea! So why not, huh?

A local druid who’s been seeing strange new afflictions in the plants and animals in their area, and who has come to town to see if anyone else has been having similar issues. And a few people have, mostly along waterways leading back to a particular area of the mountains. Incidentally, there’s also a lot of wagon traffic and provisioners moving through town. Miners and supplies moving out to a big new claim in the mountains …

A wandering itinerant preacher-slash-teacher of a gentle god who, this last little while, has been found themselves moving through towns where another, clearly much more militant preacher has been there ahead of them, and who has been riling up local tensions in ways that they’re beginning to suspect are deliberate. Setting towns on towns, tribes on tribes. Misplaced zeal, or perhaps a more long-reaching attempt to clear a path through the area for something else?

A genteel gambler who’s maintained a careful circuit around some of the local settlements for some time now, taking care not to over-harvest their flock at any one place, has started hearing whispers of a new group of bandits in the area, and some of the whispered names are worryingly familiar, echoes of the good old bad old days, when they were a different person in a different place, and under a different name …

A lean, hard, soft-spoken ranger, who ain’t got no home, who hasn’t had a home in forty years, who gets paid good money to track people down and bring ‘em in, and who has been wondering, after these last couple jobs, just who exactly has been setting the bounties in this area. Because there’s starting to be a pattern in their targets, and they’re starting not to like it.

A tired fighter, not even forty years old and already grizzled, with an albatross around their neck in the form of a legend. A bright young child who watched everything they loved be destroyed, home burned, family killed, and land stolen, and who became the fastest, meanest, most dangerous spellsword in the land in response. But that was thirty fucking years ago, and vengeance can only sustain you for so long, and now they’re broke down and broke up, and so fucking tired of all these young idiots trying to make a name for themselves out of their hide.

A charming, vicious sorcerer with a very visible scar who tends to respond dramatically to threats, and who takes a certain amount of perverse pride in being the ‘bad element’ in any town they wind up in, but who maybe, if it was offered, wouldn’t say no to chance to be better regarded than that. At least in one place. At least by one person.

Because, you know, as tangled and thorny as the genre is, westerns do have some really fucking iconic archetypes, and they are fun. Throw magic on top of it, and it is a vibe. I do enjoy it. Just, you know. You’ve got to set it up a bit carefully around the implications. Heh.

#d&d #fantasy #westerns #weird westerns #themes of the genre #character concepts #setting concepts #rambling

[hiswordsarekisses]

“They sang as it were a new song before the throne, before the four living creatures, and the elders; and no one could learn that song except the hundred and forty-four thousand who were redeemed from the earth. These are the ones who were not defiled with women, for they are virgins. These are the ones who follow the Lamb wherever He goes. These were redeemed from among men, being firstfruits to God and to the Lamb. And in their mouth was found no deceit, for they are without fault before the throne of God. Then I saw another angel flying in the midst of heaven, having the everlasting gospel to preach to those who dwell on the earth—to every nation, tribe, tongue, and people— saying with a loud voice, “Fear God and give glory to Him, for the hour of His judgment has come; and worship Him who made heaven and earth, the sea and springs of water.” And another angel followed, saying, “Babylon is fallen, is fallen, that great city, because she has made all nations drink of the wine of the wrath of her fornication.” Then a third angel followed them, saying with a loud voice, “If anyone worships the beast and his image, and receives his mark on his forehead or on his hand, he himself shall also drink of the wine of the wrath of God, which is poured out full strength into the cup of His indignation. He shall be tormented with fire and brimstone in the presence of the holy angels and in the presence of the Lamb. And the smoke of their torment ascends forever and ever; and they have no rest day or night, who worship the beast and his image, and whoever receives the mark of his name.” Here is the patience of the saints; here are those who keep the commandments of God and the faith of Jesus. Then I heard a voice from heaven saying to me, “Write: ‘Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.’ ” “Yes,” says the Spirit, “that they may rest from their labors, and their works follow them.”” Revelation‬ ‭14:3-13‬

[roses-red-and-pink]

So, while I'm not a Latter-Day Saint and almost certainly never will be (for a variety of reasons), I find your theology fascinating. And so, I'm asking - what's your favourite distinctively LDS (as in "primarily or exclusively held by them") doctrine and why?

(By the way, I've been avoiding the term out of respect - is it okay to call you a Mormon?)

Hold on. You aren’t??? 🤯 my bad I thought you were as well, I guess because of the “latter day” part of your username.

Ok well now that’s out of the way (sorry!) I’d love to answer your question. I mean I love lots and lots of our theology and doctrine. I think one I really love is our much more expansive view of heaven than the heaven/hell dichotomy. In short, we believe that there are 3 kingdoms of glory, and whichever one you attain is based on the laws you were able to abide by in life. We’ve got the telestial kingdom (full of murderers and thieves and liars and all the types of people you would think of going to hell) and they don’t get to live with God. (Hence why it is hell because separation from God.) but it will still be a nice place to spend eternity. No fires and brimstone. Just lonely I think. And the knowledge of what you could have been but didn’t become.

We have the celestial kingdom, commonly thought of as heaven. This is where The Father and Jesus live. Also we get to be with our families, be married, become like God, learn and grow and be in his presence.

But then we have this Middle Kingdom. The terrestrial kingdom. This is for people who were Good people. They don’t deserve hell, they were good people who loved their neighbours and were generally kind. But they did not accept Jesus Christ. Or if they did, they were not faithful in that testimony. They will have the presence of Jesus with them, so it’s not really hell, but they don’t get the presence of the Father. And, they are like the angels in heaven, neither married nor given in marriage. They don’t get to truly become like God.

Honourable mention goes to baptism for the dead so that people who weren’t baptized in this life still get a chance to accept Jesus Christ even if they never got to hear about him in life.

I think overall I just love how great and merciful Gods plan is. He wants us all to return to him. And he knows not everyone gets a chance here on earth. And he knows we won’t all be faithful to the testimony of Jesus. But he still wants us to be happy in eternity. Gods plan is a plan for everyone.

As to your last question, we prefer not to be called Mormon because it makes it sound like we worship Mormon the prophet, or think he is the basis of our faith. We are the church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. We follow and worship Jesus Christ so we want to be known by his name. So I appreciate you asking! Thank you!

Here’s a recent video by one of our church leaders explaining this kingdom of glory idea.

#christianity #what a fun ask #still shook you aren’t LDS #my fellow LDS mutuals feel free to correct me if I messed something up #the church of jesus christ of latter day saints #my life

[thedamnlesbian]

The pairings for Double's final game :)

Double's final game involves violence. Two agents are pinned against each other, whoever wins proves that they are worthy of glory.

Phoenix vs Yoru

Phoenix and Yoru's pairing is an attempt to one up each other. Double roped them into this due to their competitive natures, especially towards each other.

Phoenix is the one Double likes to push around because he's reckless and will do anything out of spite to prove someone wrong.

Yoru on the other hand has to constantly deal with an angry, spite filled Phoenix.

Jett vs Neon

Jett and Neon is a competition of who is faster.

At first the little rivallry was a joke, but now that it's the condition of winning they take it seriously.

Double encourages Neon to feel all of her emotions, to lose control. Is it dangerous? Yes. However it will help you win. Being unpredictable will give you an advantage against your opponent.

Sage vs Viper

Sage and Viper is a game of cat and mouse.

Sage does not want to fight, however Viper dragged her into the game due to her rage. Sage will only fight Viper if she has to, for now she is in hiding.

Clove vs Astra

Clove never took the game seriously. They can't die, so what can Astra do against them?

Astra is using the time in the game to experiment and figure out how Clove's immortality works. She doesn't nessecarily hate Clove, however she doesn't believe that the immortality thing will work out well for anyone.

Deadlock vs Gekko

Although they made amends, Double still pokes at Deadlock's trauma, about how Gekko was able to save his crew but she failed at saving her sisters and a man who couldn't fend for himself.

Gekko doesn't want to fight, he's confused by the situation, but he's ultimately forced into it.

KAY/O vs Reyna

The tension between Kayo and Reyna is obvious, you don't need someone as emotionally intelligent as Double to figure it out.

Double takes advantage of this tension, pinning the two against each other.

Their game is very heated, constantly hunting each other down. Reyna is blinded by the adreneline of it, while Kayo is back to his old code of extermination.

Cypher vs Breach

A game of cat and mouse, Cypher is constantly trying to use his wit and skill against Breach's recklessness.

When Double told Breach he could choose an opponent to face off against, Breach thought of the person who has little to no physical strength, Cypher. However, due to Cypher's intelligence, he is not so easily defeated. But because of this Breach just has more motivation to find that rat.

Iso vs Omen

Ah Iso. Double knows him too well. She knows all about the scions of hourglass, and more about his missions. This'll be easy.

After poking at Omen some more and triggering their anger, this is too easy.

Sova vs Fade

Sova doesn't usually want people dead, however Fade was an exception.

After planting the idea that Fade would backstab the protocol any second now in Sova's head, he jumped to stop her. Little does he know that it's all part of the plan.

Brimstone, Harbor, Chamber, Skye, Raze and Killjoy aren't on this list because 1. couldn't think of pairings, 2. I don't see them getting caught up in the game.

IF YOU THINK YOUR OC WOULD PARTICIPATE IN DOUBLES GAME PLS LMK :D

#double valorant #valorant double #eeda fayek #phoenix valorant #yoru valorant #jett valorant #neon valorant #sage valorant #viper valorant #clove valorant #astra valorant #deadlock valorant #gekko valorant #KAY/O valorant #Reyna valorant #cypher valorant #breach valorant #Iso valorant #omen valorant #sova valorant #fade valorant #valorant oc #valorant

[theladyheroine]

Valorant x Spiderverse Reader 🕷️

Lol another Spider-Man post! I’m a little late to the party but calling this Spider-Weekend since I have more stuff left in the tank 😂

Call-Sign: Spinner

Residence: New York City, USA

You were a rookie recruit from the Big Apple after a video of you went viral. You wouldn’t really call yourself “hero,” but you tried your best to be that Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man you thought was needed.

You tried to keep a low profile, since most people weren’t really accepting of Radiants yet. But you were seen on the streets before: catching shoplifters, maybe a robber or two, or just helping people with directions. But the video was a clip from a news station after a large subway train started barreling down the tracks with no brakes and a broken bridge.

Only for a masked figure in a hoodie to suddenly swoop down from the sky and slow it with only some webs and their bare hands.

That was by far the craziest stunt you’ve ever pulled. Thankfully everyone made it off the train safely, with the so-called Spider-Man/Spider-Woman no where to be found.

Brimstone had it in mind; a selfless Radiant like you with powerful skills could prove to be a valuable asset to the team. But no one could find you or even knew who you were.

You were just trying your best to lay low for awhile. Until a warning went out throughout the city that a spike had been planted in Brooklyn and everyone was required to evacuate.

You obviously just couldn’t stand by, not with your home and family were at risk, so you tried to track the bomb down yourself before the city was blown sky high. That’s where you met Jett and Gekko, who were scoping out the area trying to track the spike down. Until they found you tangled up in your webs trying to figure out how to disarm the dang thing.

It took awhile, but the bomb was deactivated, Brimstone offered up the chance for you to join the Valorant Protocol instead of swinging around all day in a Halloween costume. You said yes! 🙌

You mostly hang out with the youngster squad, mainly Gekko since you and him come from a similar background. Not really in it for the glory or anything hardcore, just going around trying to help and hang out. Plus he had good taste in music.

However, Jett has taken a liking to you too. Often racing with each other on missions to see who gets there first while pulling parkour tricks in the air.

Since you can stick to walls, it does take everyone some time to get used to your abilities. And that means ALOT of mischief. You once scared Phoenix in the break room when he was looking for something to eat. Only to scream and fall when you offered him some cereal.

Not only that but I’m sure it’s be scary to see your crawling around the walls every now and then. Just imagine seeing that at night in the hallway. . . 😅

But your webs are also cool for tricks too; you once make a giant trampoline outside of the base for everyone to use, and Brimstone still hasn’t gotten over your little scheme of sticking all the furniture to the ceiling!

(Okay I know that’s wasn’t much but that’s all I got! Happy Spiderverse Day! 🙌🕷️)

#crossover #valorant headcanons #valorant #valorant oc #into the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderman #into the spiderverse headcanons #valorant riot games #riot games

[divinegrey]

the morning after / reyna x reader x viper

i.... don't know what happened. i got high and wrote a valorant fic for a friend who shall remain anonymous (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE) and this is probably gonna be a one off but.... long time no see!

prompt: the morning after with reyna and viper (more reyna centric but nonnie wanted both!)

words: 2150

warnings: nudity, swearing probably

It’s not unusual for you to wake up late in the Protocol; people know you to be a night owl, which doesn’t lend quite as well as you’d hope to the early mornings that are often required for you as an agent of the Valorant Protocol. 

Luckily for you, this isn’t one of those mornings. 

Within the Valorant Protocol, there’s a strict no fraternization policy that most members of the Protocol adhere to. And when you say most, you mean about half. The general rule of thumb is keep your lips zipped, and Brimstone looks the other way. 

Frankly, it’s fucking fantastic. 

You roll over on the bed, a rough, sleep-addled rumble coming forth from your chest. Near instantly, the mass next to you turns over as well, a strong lean arm coming around your waist to hold you tight, complimented by the hazy, warm breath tickling the back of your neck. Their legs tangle with yours, and you come to the realization that even if the world was ending, you’d rather be right here. 

“Mm, mi corazón, it’s not time to wake up yet,” the dulcet, rich sound of Reyna’s morning voice fills your ear. You can feel her pressing her chest against your bare back, the exposed skin a testament to the activities you engaged in the previous night, well into the early morning. 

What? It'd been a good mission— you performed admirably well in dispatching enemy agents with your abilities. You and Neon, ever the pair, worked back to back and side by side while the others searched for the Radianite and extracted it. It had been rough for a bit of it, but you kept your head straight and managed to keep everything calm amid chaos. 

Your girlfriends, both of them, had been equally impressed with your work, and decided to show you by way of actions. 

Many actions that left you sorer in some places, but well worth it. 

“I know, I know, just readjusting,” you mutter into your pillow, stretching out your arm for your other girlfriend. Predictably, the other side of the bed is not cold, but not warm either. With a sigh, you say gruffly, “Did Sabine leave already?” 

Reyna’s reply is a click of her tongue. “You know how she is, my vida. Stay, while we still can. The day hasn’t yet started.” 

She presses a kiss to your shoulder blade, over a bandage applied on the ride back from a bullet that had just grazed your back. Nothing major, but enough to constitute the doting attention of a vampiress and a scientist, both of whom fussed over all of your injuries until you reassured them ten times over that you were safe. The injuries were minimal; a success, given your track record. 

But some of them ache. Reyna peppers soft kisses over the bandage, then up the muscles of your trapezius, then toward your neck. She licks her tongue, a hot stripe lathing the deep grooves of a particularly rough bite mark left by her on you. She could be particularly possessive, especially after missions when her adrenaline ran high and ran long. 

You never minded it. 

Gently, you turn to lay on your back, prompting Reyna to slide her hand over your front and to your jaw. You open your eyes just in time to shut them again, getting only a glimpse of her in her morning glory before she presses her lips to yours in an iron hot claim, a reminder that you’re hers. 

It makes you chuckle. 

“Good morning to you too, Reyna,” you say softly, your voice still thick with sleep. 

“It’s a perfect morning with you here, cariño,” Reyna murmurs. She throws one of her legs over yours underneath the sheets, and you find yourself hard pressed to consider the thought of leaving. Not that you’d ever leave. Mornings like these are rare. 

Reyna kisses you again, and you let her. You can’t hold back the smile on your face. 

Reyna’s hands seek your skin— they always do. She’s touchy with people she likes, and the list of people like that is small. Might just be you and a few other people, but you’re a little greedy, so you don’t mind hogging Reyna’s hands whenever they’re on your body. You wrap your arms around her, spoiling the vampiress with kisses wherever you can reach them. 

The sound of the door sliding open and shut would normally pull your attention away, but you were settled by the fact that you recognized the crisp, sharp footsteps that followed soon after. What did catch your attention was the smell of food, and suddenly, your stomach rumbled loudly. 

You pull away, stating, “I smell food.” 

“Should I be offended that you’re chasing the food and not me?” Reyna asks, her nails dancing over your collarbone. You snort. 

“Babe, if anyone is chasing, it’s you. We all know you’re one of the apex predators of the Protocol,” You reply easily, pushing back the blanket. A requirement to reaching the food is untangling your legs with Reyna, which proves to be a little more difficult than expected when the empress makes it exceedingly clear that you won’t get out without a fight. 

“Damn it, Reyna, I just want some food!” 

“I’m right here, mi vida, what more could you want?” 

Reyna reaches for the ticklish zones on the sides of your stomach, and you think you might’ve accidentally jerked a little too much when there’s a pinch on your abs. 

“Reyna.” The voice of your other girlfriend slices through the room. “That’s enough. Let our girl get her food.” 

The vampiress, to her credit, frees you from your torture. Sluggishly, you get onto your feet, a little out of breath from trying to hold back your laughter. As you straighten up, the verdant green eyes of Viper, otherwise known as Sabine or to you specifically, Bean, assess you with the critical eye of a scientist. 

A sigh comes from her mouth. “You pulled a stitch.” 

Reyna snorts. You grimace, saying, “Oops?” 

Sabine just makes a gesture to Reyna’s barely-used desk chair, and without much question, you sit down. 

Two plates. Cheekily, you reach for the one filled with the most food, keeping one arm on the desk and the other hanging off the side of the desk chair as Sabine takes an also hardly used first aid kit and quickly redoes your stitches. The fact that there’s food in your mouth deters you from making any sounds. 

“With any luck, that’ll teach you not to mercilessly tickle our girlfriend when she has wounds,” Sabine says. She cups your jaw, and you quickly swallow the food in your mouth. The corner of Sabine’s mouth quirks up, and before she can pull away, you snatch a kiss from Sabine. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have been so eager, because Sabine keeps you there, her grip on you like a vice. You can do nothing but melt into her, wrapping your hand lightly around her arm just to keep yourself anchored. 

Still on the bed, naked, Reyna huffs. “She wanted it first, mi víbora.” 

The pet name from Reyna to Sabine is usually used outside this room as teasing and sarcastic. In here, though, it betrays how Reyna feels for Viper. 

And, really, how they both feel for you. 

Dating one of the most powerful agents in the Protocol would be enough for anyone, but you’re not known for being complacent. You’re known for being bold. 

Bold enough to get Reyna’s attention (you always had it). Even Viper was curious, though in a more analytical sense. It’s weird how the three of you ended up here, but you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

“Good morning, my love,” Sabine whispers into your mouth. 

“Right back at ya.” You tilt your head up to kiss her forehead. “Did you really have to leave?” 

“Considering what happened last night, yes. I knew you’d wake up hungry,” Sabine says. She straightens up from her position kneeling in front of you, fetching another plate and giving it to Reyna, still lounging luxuriously on the bed. “You ravaged her. She’s a mess.” 

Reyna grins. “You can’t say that like I did all the work.” 

“I’m right here,” You say, interjecting into the conversation that is so very clearly about you. “Also, where’s your food?” 

“I ate while Sage was making yours and Reyna’s.” 

That explains the dumplings. Not complaining. They’re good as hell!

“You are no fun.” You stand up, walking toward Sabine and holding a dumpling. “C’mon, Bean, open wide!” 

Sabine gives you a face that very clearly reads her discontent, but she opens her mouth long enough for you to push the dumpling in. She chews, arms folded, and you start giggling, flopping onto the side of the mattress with the plate. 

“Thank you, though. I appreciate it.” You place your hand on Sabine’s leg; she’s already fully dressed for a day in the lab. “I think if you hadn’t come into the room when you did, Empress over here might’ve eaten me alive.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t want me to do that, mi corazón.” Reyna’s grin is dangerous, her teeth wickedly sharp as they always are. 

“Let me finish eating first, damn!” 

“Besides,” Sabine says, making you tilt your head back to look up at her. She runs her hand through your messy hair. “I never finished my turn last night.” 

You drop the dumpling in your hand. As per usual, when it comes to anything having to do with either of your girlfriends, your thoughts begin to wander. 

“But later,” Sabine says, and you let out a loud groan. “I have some work to do in the lab. Both of you are off today due to our work last night. You—” she taps your nose. “Stay off your feet.” 

You grab onto her. “But, I’ll be more likely to stay off my feet if you stay with me, Bean.” 

“Have we forgotten about me?” Reyna jests from the bed, sitting up and putting her plate aside so she can wrap her arm around your shoulders. Her lean muscle is always something you drool over, especially in a moment like this where nothing is covering her upper half and only the blanket from the bed is covering the lower half. You lean into her, but keep your hand on Sabine. 

“You can spend the day with us,” you say, wiggling your fingers as if trying to hypnotize your extremely stoic girlfriend. Reyna starts mouthing at your neck, a threat of continuing the events of last night hanging in the air, and you see Sabine’s resolve begin to crack when Reyna’s inked arm slithers around your stomach, scratching the deep line of your abdominals. 

The scientist bends, leveling her eyes with yours. “Finish your food, give two hours, and you have me for the rest of the day, provided that no one in the Protocol needs me.” 

“I’ll make sure they don’t,” Reyna purrs. 

“One hour,” you challenge. 

Sabine tilts her head to the side. “Hour and forty-five.” 

“Hour and fifteen.” 

“One hour and thirty minutes, take or leave it, my love,” Sabine says. 

“Deal!” You lean forward again and kiss her, and she pushes back with twice the ferocity. Let it be known that while Sabine can be extraordinarily callous and sometimes a bitch, it works well with you, a renowned mean-lady-appreciator. You’ve got two of them on either side of you, so you’re ready to call it a victory. 

But after some time (and some heavy tongue action, Viper style), the scientist withdraws with the promise that she’ll be back in no less than one hour and thirty minutes. Giddy and a little lovesick, you finish the rest of your breakfast with Reyna, going over the details of all the super cool shit you did last night with Neon during the mission. 

Once you finish, you stack the plates on Reyna’s desk to take them out later, and eagerly jump back to the bed, straddling Reyna’s hips. 

“I’m sure Sabine wouldn’t mind me warming you up,” Reyna says, the words vibrating into your skin as she sits up, all lean power and sinewy muscles.  Her hands dig into sore spots on your lower back. “Wouldn’t want to leave your muscles aching after last night, would we?” 

“Oh, please, warm me up all you want.” You lean down, pressing your lips against Reyna’s. “We’ve got time.” 

“Then I’ll have to make sure our darling Viper sees you in the most compromising position.” Reyna’s words rumble like a purr, and you find yourself being flipped over onto your back, the Empress herself looming over you. “How’s that sound, cariño?” 

“Sounds perfect,” you say, placing your hands on her neck to bring her down for a searing kiss. 

~~~~~

A/N: this is probably gonna be a one off fic for this fandom unless people are actually interested but we'll see

#reyna x reader #viper x reader #valorant #valorant x reader #reyna #viper #reyna valorant #viper valorant

[ricardian-werewolf]

Chapter 6: Holy water cannot help you now

Ao3 Link Summary: As the aftermath of the attack on Keramzin comes to the forefront, there is a reflection across Ravka of their Sankta Sol's martyrdom.

Chapter below cut:

After. As the darkness claimed her, the Girl knew this black void was not the end. More, a sleep. The soft, tranquil stillness of a coma. She had fought so long, so hard, and deserved a chance to lick her wounds. The knife to her chest had torn into her heart, but a flicker of sunlight healed the skin before the Darkling could notice.

As she slipped in and out of the inky black, her faithful came from out of the woodwork to settle the girl’s body upon a gold-encrusted litter and laid her upon sheets of gold satin and silks. From there, she was carried by her faithful Soldat Sol across Ravka to the place of her birth. Her friends and allies accompanied her, the gold-eyed twins at her side no matter the day or night. Millions flooded the Dva Stolba valley, chanting her name until their voices were hoarse, and yet screamed still more. Mothers wept, tore at their garments as her litter was carried past village and town alike. Men removed their caps and clutched the icons of her form - the stag’s antlers cast in a halo around her head. The icon showed the fetter on both wrists as she cast a glow of sunlight. 

All while, the girl slept and dreamed of a fox-prince with golden hair and hazel eyes. He, too, slept. Buried beneath the ice-sheet of the Ash Tree, brought into a coma through their shared tether. The darkness did not sink its claws into him the way the girl feared. In its stead, the darkness loved her prince the way it could never love her. Time healed all wounds. The girl knew that like a surgeon’s scalpel, the darkness was seeking to cut from her prince the tumor that had festered in his soul for so long. 

The Darkling had evaded fate once again, leaving the orphanage of the girl’s youth a smoldering ruin. Into his embrace he had taken the Grisha children, promising brimstone and hellfire to follow if anyone made to move against them. But, one did. Sturmhond, the wolf of the seas, made the Darkling’s plans to attack the Firebird’s nest a near impossibility. The First Army, of its Otkazat’sya men and women, raised new banners in the name of the Sun Saint:

A fox circling a sunburst, all backed in the deep green of the Little Prince. 

They took up their guns and sabres once more, and marched into the fog of war to bring glory to their war-torn home. All while worshiping her name and offering prayers of healing for the soul of the girl who had become their savior.

Little girls scattered fire-flower petals on the grasses of the Firefalls as the Apparat, returned from his holy exile, proclaimed the Sankta Sol in a place beyond what mere man knew. She was not at the Making of the Heart of the World, not yet.

Nor would she be. For the tether that stretched between the Little Saint and Little Prince was a bond that could not be cleaved even by death. As long as the other loved their half, they would not die. The Little Prince was too clever to evade death’s scythe. He would be the one to plunge into the underworld, guided by the girl’s light, and they would emerge.

Together. 

She would not let the Darkling rule another day. He would face his fate, whether with the steel of a Grisha blade or cold bullet of a rifle. It would be up to the girl to undo the pain and misery that had swallowed her country and people whole. She would live.

She would rise, become the savior her people needed. It was time to come out from under her old matron’s skirts. The Girl would waken, and she would have at her side a king who would crown her in cloths of gold and fox-fur, impress into her skin the prayers of a man who loved her for who she was. His word was holy oath, more than even the Apparat’s cries. 

Her faithful would come for her, and she for him. This much was something that could be written in the stars, in the compass that pointed ever truly north, and the ring upon the girl’s finger that only the red-haired girl of one eye and many scars recognized.

Her friends and allies would disperse, and would return to the lives of outlaws and miscreants intent on surviving. But from her place of rest and enshrinement, they would emerge crowned in the certainty that the Sun Saint had not forsaken her most beloved of peoples. She had not failed them once ere this.

Now she would not either.

Carried up in the flames of the firefalls, the litter carrying the girl was deconstructed, and a dome of the finest Fabrikator made glass placed over the bed. In its becoming of a coffin, the falls were parted and the coffin placed into a cave lit by the stalagmites that dripped down from its ceiling. Then, the cave was sealed, prayers were finally offered, and the crowd drew away in reverence for their martyred saint.

All across her homeland, church-bells sang songs of mourning, calling the faithful to mass and supplicants to kneel at their shrines. All to beg for the soul of the girl who was an icon. 

Inside the coffin, the girl touched the fetter at her wrist and the collar at her neck. 

A smile touched her face. In her ear, she heard a voice whisper.

“Rest well, Sunshine.” The girl’s laugh was a silent one, but it brought mirth to her. She closed her eyes again, and let the darkness carry her down into a world only the Little Prince and she knew. There, she would be home. Orpheus had found her Eurydice. She would strum her lyre and sing sweet songs of the return of a fox-king and a sun-queen. 

Those who heard her song would know of her return, and carry in their breasts the sacredness of such a gospel sung by a girl unto whom death nor the Darkling could touch. 

#nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #my fic #Alina starkov #Nikolina #wyn rambles #wyn writes #I will follow you into the dark