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mesquitecandle · 2 years

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BAD END – LOAD AGAIN FROM THE LAST CHECKPOINT

(A mastersona FGO AU drabble)

So close, they were so close to victory, only to have the last Lostbelt strangle their hopes in front of their faces. Why? Why did it have to be the Mayan-Aztec pantheon – it was clearly located in Brazil! Chaldea’s last members could only watch in horror as their veteran master – Leaf – had been snatched away within seconds by a mysterious figure.

“Blood, Bone, Flesh, Sinew, Spirit, Soul – everything you are belongs to the starving earth. Oh child of Pan Human History: remember your purpose. Those circuits are not your own.”

She could only chuckle mirthlessly in her throes of pain, recognizing who spoke to her.

Cipactli – at least one of its blood mages. It could never really speak, but it always thirsted to join itself to every living being, make it part of itself. Everything it considered its treasure, loved as though it was a part of itself. Why else would it be so desperate to consume whatever it came across?

“Gah!”

Drip,

Leaf stared at the darkening stone floor, lit by her now rebellious foreign circuits fused onto her entire body. Blood. Her blood seeping into the cracks in pulsing waves. ‘Poor Merlin…’ she mused as hot whips of fury raced through her body.

Those first scales, accompanied by Quetzalcoatl’s personal interference: feathers, had sent everyone into a panic. She could no longer hide her curse from them. Not when each emergence resulted in a small mess of fleshy hell to clean up while her mind struggled to mend itself from the physical strain. She tried smiling at whoever noticed, recalled the pale faces of Siegfried, Georgios, Martha, even poor poor Abigail…

‘I’m sorry’

Wings ripped out her backside, shimmery and wet.

‘I’m so sorry’

Bones within her twisted and rent themselves into larger, foreign joints. Her own heart beating rapidly, as though trying to escape her morphing ribs.

‘You all deserved better than a monster…’

Mouths armed with rows of teeth formed at each joint, covered by damp feathers.

‘For a partner.’

Feathers and scales both covered her overheated, painfully seared body. Many voices foreign to her poured into her mind, frustrating her struggle to maintain her sense of being. And then came the insatiable hunger…

‘Sieg-’

“My life is yours to have, in exchange for the lives we have left.”

One figure serene, bowed towards a panting, wretched creature titanic in comparison.

Two sets of partly-scaled and partly-feathered wings surrounded them, before a bloody head of feathers, scales, and mouths lunged.

One small crunch echoes, then a wet bellow even Chaldea could hear follows.

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‘This place is unbearably humid’ was his first thought as he was summoned into what appeared to be an inky blackness.

He’d responded to a small plea for help, a weak one that tugged at his heart. He knew it wasn’t his late wife Kriemhild, as he hadn’t been summoned by the world. No, it was another person he knew – one of his previous masters. Astolfo, Kriemhild, and at least a few of his masters helped to let him understand just how to be a hero of justice. Not through just fulfilling wishes, but by prioritizing his own life and will whenever it made sense.

Yes, this must be one of them.

A lone glowing butterfly strayed near him, providing him a small source of light. He smiled, at least he could actually see now.

As he warily trod shallow water, memories from another life started trickling into his consciousness. Chaldeas: a long struggle to restore humanity from incineration, and a place where many heroic spirits joined together – where reunions from previous summons could take place. Then came the Lostbelts and Novum Chaldea…

Who was this mysterious master? And why did his heart feel like sinking?

Several pairs of eyes trained themselves on him – dragons. Wyverns, as his horned skin warned him. Balmung hummed in his hands as he dispatched them easily. Whomever he was contracted to, they had a staggering amount of mana for him to make use of.

‘Feathers? Most wyverns only have scales.’

“Master? If you can hear me, hang on, I’ll come to you!”

Dragons, water, darkness, it all made him uneasy. Slaying Fafnir had been hard enough; he couldn’t even remember how he killed it in life even if he tried. The other couple times had been with Chaldeas, with that same master. He had backup those times.

Leaf? What an odd name.

Several larger dragons, bearing glowing marks akin to Fafnir, attempted to surround him. Siegfried could only quiet his heart’s stuttering as he unleashed his noble phantasm after fleeing outside their circle. So he had been summoned by a master to dispatch a Fafnir once more…

Leaf. Was this cry for help from her? He swore there was another name, her actual name, that he been entrusted with.

Siegfried looked back at what should have been dispersing mana. What he saw instead sent him reeling. Several dead human corpses, laced with glowing circuits eerily similar to his own chest veins, lay before him pooled in watery blood. His mouth went dry while his body staggered back on its own accord.

‘No, no...the last thing I want to do is panic. I need to find her before it’s -’

One vivid memory from that life sunk in.

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“What would happen if I get stabbed in the back? I’d die, of course. This back of mine is a curse, as well as a concept. But at times, I wonder...Had my body been covered by blood entirely, might I myself have fallen and become the evil dragon?”

Two mugs filled with black coffee scented the entire room. Blindingly white walls surrounding them were softened by framed photos taken in-between singularities. A young woman sitting opposite of him with wavy hair not unlike Kriemhild’s, yet complement in color, held a guarded smile.

“Ah, sometimes it’s best to leave some mysteries be. But take it from me, Blue-belly, you’re much luckier than you think.”

She tugged at her left sleeve as he looked back. That’s right – Leaf preferred to avoid showing any skin aside from her legs, face, and neck.

“Leaf, that nickname’s –”

“Ahah, I apologize. Ever since your third ascension, I couldn’t help but compare you to the fence lizards that used to keep me company as a kid. But I’ll knock it off if you hate it.”

“Oh...well, maybe if it’s just between us, then, Leaf.”

She held up one gloved hand.

“That’s just my pen name that I gave to Chaldeas. My real name’s Angeles. It’s...the least I owe you, given how must trust you’ve shown me.” That same smile melted into complete sincerity, as her eyes displayed the same fond familiarity his other self shared with her.

“Angeles...that’s a lovely name.”

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Warm white walls faded into the wet darkness that now lay before him. His body involuntarily shuddered. Why was he shown that? Had she, did she…?!

Several draconic bellows echoed throughout the area.

Glancing back only once to the corpses, he started dashing through the marshy terrain, tearing through any other unfortunates that had been turned. All he could do was offer a small prayer for each of them to find peace in their death.

A glowing mass of multicolored light bounced off the water nearby – rippling in time to gurgled, heavy breathing. A Fafnir, a source of his summoning. He was sure of it. So why did he sense his master coming closer to him as he attempted to silence his steps? Muddy earth gave way to stone under his feet, startling him. Siegfried pricked his ears, praying he hadn’t woken his prey. No, the same rhythmic breathing reverberated though his surroundings, including his own chest.

It was curled around a triangular stone building – a step-pyramid – as information slid into his mind. Obsidian-like scales jutted all over its shuddering body, spectral plumage clothed its wings, chest, neck, head, front legs, and tail, and bioluminescent veins clung all over its body, pulsing shades of bluish-white. Strangely, its entire backside seemed blanketed in glowing, moving scales. This Fafnir far out sized his own.

Maybe it was his connection to that blasted dragon which allowed him to smell all the excessive amounts of iron – blood – soaked within the stone steps beneath him. Nauseating. He stepped on a flower, a poppy, he recognized, growing between the cracks. He could practically feel his own blood drain out of his face at the sight.

“Master...please, where are you?” He whispered, darting his eyes so as not to take them completely off the gargantuan beast.

Nothing. Yet, he knew she was around here. He only had one last thing he could pull as a servant. Focusing hard on the flow of mana between himself and his master, he attempted a mental connection to her.

I̸̧̧̜̦̜͖̥̝̻͈̳̰̼̙̾́̽͆̽̂͑̀̂̆̂͋̌̐͑̓̽̕͜ͅ'̷̧̗̜̱͇̑m̶̨̢̛̛̛̛̙̥͇͇̦̗̲̘͓̪͎̲̱̘̣̦̰͈͈͇̫̯͔̫̱̙̝͚̲̫͉̔̈́̏̀̏͑͊̔̀͋̑͆̽̎͆͐͛̐͑̇̑̎̕͜ ̸̧͔̖͖͔̜͖̮͍̀̅̍͛͛̒̏̀͗̾̔͂̍́͌̈̊̈̏͗̂̉̅͗̌̓̄̀͛͆̄͘̕͘̚͘͘͜͝͝͝͠s̶̢̢̡̧̛̛̬̳̠̥̣̜̝̟̠͚̗̟͖̬̝͔̫̝͍̥̜͔̲͉̙͒̂͆̀̐͑̒̂͒̅͊͛̏͛͐̑͌͒̽̃̇̐̏̓̅̍̚̕͝͠͝õ̵̖̳̰͇̤̦̩̩͇̑͛̑̂͗̔̔̌̎̍́̔͊͊̈́̌̎̑͗̎͛̍̓̃͗̉̅̎̈̍͗̅̉̕͘͘͘ ̴̫̝̬̬̥͕͉̼̙̲̻̞͙̠͍̖̞͙̗̙͕̈́͛͂̒͌̓͛͂̓̔̾̓̆͆͑̔͘͝͝ş̸̢̢̛̠͉̘̰͉̻͉̩̲̗̜̦͓̮̪̫͇͇̥̭̬̮̮̘͈̹͖͎̭̗̘̯̠̳̘̊͆̿̿̍̉̐͗́̓̄́̀̆̔̒̀͒̓̾̾̅͋͆̒̃̎͐͂̎̀͛̾̕͝͠ͅǫ̸̢̧͙̼̦͕̬͔̫͙̣̩̩͎͇̖͙̭͙̯̺̦͚̗̦̹̜̯̠̬̩͎̤̙͔͈͙̥͈̥͔̻͋͆̂̾͂̅̐̿͑̄̚̕ŗ̶̡̨̯̖̣̰̹̱̱̪̳͉̫͖̖̖̱̭̭̥̋ͅȓ̷̦̥̳̰̳̳͇̜̃̏̉̆̏̀̌̈͌̈́͐͝͝ỳ̴̧͍̖͋̅͂̉̊̆̋͗̀̓̈́̂̔̌̀̾͐̑̌̓̈̏̈́͑͗̽͆̀́̈́͐̐́̍̈͋͊͑́͌͛͛̉͘̚͘.̷̢̡̧̧̡̞̜̝̟͙͈̤̜̮̱͚̹͇͉̯̭̱̣̮͕̺̟͙̣̥̫̪̻̻̥̦̘͔͖̤͇̭͈̃̃̈̉͐̔̓̂̂̈́̏͊̈́̈́̂̿̄̊͂̂̓̽͐̓͑̈́͊̅̎̓̀̎͆̾̈́͛̌̕̕̕͝ͅ ̶̡̢̛̪̼̳͍̳̪̯̖͎͍̻̱̝͓̞̗͈͕̦̮̱͎̹̺̏̽̒̓̒̓̃̈́͗̅̍́̊̀̈̒̐̔͊̊́̐̉̈̈́͋̒͊̈̈́̈̆̈̒̒̓͘͘̚͘͜͜͝Pḻ̵̡̨̡̨̢̧̛̛̛̮̞͙̫̱͓̜̪͖̗̺̦̙͙͖̪͕̯̪̮̦̟͔̠̠̦̜͌͗̀̄̐̇͛̊̔̎͌̂̆͛̆͗̔̅̌̔̈́̄͛̒͜͜͠͝ͅe̵̡̡̫͎̺̠͕̱̦͕̪̪̪̩̯̻̩̗͔̠̟̱̖̯̟̦͂̆̐̍̉́̓̀͒͆͜͝ͅȃ̴̢̝̙̠̬̠̮͍̥͈̮̤̳̙̦́̆̎̆̈́̉̓̆͌̎͊̾͂͌͆̉̉̌͒͜͝ͅs̶̡̺͈̞̼̠̖̝̳̞͓̬͎͇͙̞̻̤̣̗̝̞̑́̇̐̏̓̄͆̎͜ȩ̴̡̧̡̡̢̖̘̘̟͚̜̹̼̼͕̪̮̺̠̬͙̞̤̮̺̖͎̼̰̹̼͓̮̩̣͈͓̱̜̘̟͎͖̔̽͑̏͆̃͒̊͋̑̑́͌͐̏͗̈̌̑̏̐̈́̓́́̑̆̆́͊͋̄͑̾̈̄͘̕̕͝͝͠͝͝ͅ ̴̢̛͓̭̬͔͇͚͙̗͈̥̠̮̰̮̩͉̯̻̬̗͚͙̥̞̼͈̝̥͍̯͈̭͎̓̀̑̓̈̽̏̑̓͗̿̒̉̄̈͗̅͂̓̆̃̅̓͆͑̿̆̚̕͜͝͠ͅͅg̶̛̫̙̥̟̰̭̬̮̥͕͈͊͋̏̆̔͋͑͐̐͑͋̈̅̓͛́̈́̈́̈́͋̾͂͆̀̀̎͌̈́͂̒͒̅̈́̔̂̊̽̇͂̀̏̀͘͘̕͠ê̷̡͇̩̱̹͕̫̳̦͎͈̼͛̅̀͜ͅͅț̸̛̛̮͖̤̆͂̒͌͐̎̆̊̍̀̔̐̑̈́̂̿̏̈́͂͒͋̈̅̾̀͛̊̆͋̃̄͐͂́͘̚͠͝ ̷̧̧̢̢̛̟̹̳͇̮͚̣̩͎͈̝̘̲̰̜̲̺̙̥̫̗̝͔͖̺͎͎̝̯̖̮̞̤̺̅̈́̈́̈́̓̂͊͊͐̅͋̾͗̿̈̓͆̑̎̋̓̒̄̂͂̿͌́͑̈́̓͋́̈́͋̋̒̊́̈͘͝͝o̴̯̹͙̹͎̯͂̈́̏̈́̏̽̎̈͛̄̕ͅų̵̛͕̮̱͓͎̯̤͎͈̤̉̉̏́̎͒̏̏͛̆̆̍̉̏͂̏́́̿͛͌̃̆͘ͅt̷̢̡̨̧̥͇͈̜̙͍̟̲̘̼̤̥̼͉̭̠̹̤̬͉͚͚͚͖̰̱̣̙̤͓͍̒̓͒͊̅͐̎̉͠͝ͅͅ ̷̧̧̧̢̨̡̨̛͍̝̫̤̩̖̩̱̪̩̩̣̻̤̜̟͚̘̤͎̗̺̘̠̗͈̼̊̑̂̋̎̂̾̂̆͒̂́̃̾̿̆̓̓̄͋̉͛̑̇̏̓͋́͛͘͘̕̚̕̚͝͠͝͠ͅͅǫ̸̡̧̡̡͚̩̰̖͙̤̼͇̩̗̗̠̪̩̜̼̺̳̫̙̺̬̹̘̩̦̗̟̥̺̤̤̣͓͈̺͙͚̍̃̅́̑̅̌̀͗̚͝͝ͅͅf̸̢̧̨̨̧̧̡̧̛̘͓̙̻͕̮̫̼̖̻̙̻̣͕̪͈̪̥̰̤̳̥̙̮̮̜͚̪͎̰͎̺̪̳͇̉̓̌̀̈́̀̄͜͝͠ ̴̢̛̥̼̮̯͉̤̱̤͂͗̀̓̀́͗͌̉͛͆̾̎̌̑̿̋͌̅̿̌̆̋́̽͆̄̅͋̒̄́̒̎̓̀̓͘̚̕͝͠͝͝͝͠͝ḩ̸̩̹͗̒̂̆̕é̸̢̧̢̢̱̖̞̣̳̘̹͕̠̗̤̥͍̬͙̳̩̭̻͍̖͔͔̗̱̫̹͍͉̱̔̔̽͂̋̎̃̆̔͋̐͌̂̒̏̒͌̐͂̇̋̾̈́̀̇̐̈́̾̃̐̆͋̈́̅̒̚̕̕̕͜͝͝ͅŗ̷̛̛͇͍̯͙̠̜̑̃͆̽̈̇̎͗̚͝͝ė̷̢͚̦̗̣͔̯͎̲̳̺̻̞̙̤͔̻̗̃̐̓̇̈́̐̾̋̽́͒̂̎̾̉̒̏́͂̂̎̄̚͜͠͝͝ ̶̧̡̢̡̻͔̣̝̹̻͔͍̖̦̘̣͍̩͎͈̲̦͉̦̞͈͚̩͕͙̬̭͎̗̦̭̤̥͛̍̿̉͊̋͜ͅi̶̢̢͙̖̘̦̹̗̹͎͍͉̪̮̙͍͚͖̬̲̣̰͓̤̱͓͇̞̼͓̿͗͗̐̔͐̈̅̐̔̐́́͆̇̌̋͑͗͆͑̈́͆͌̂̆͠ͅͅͅf̸̢̧̡̮̫̻̠̗̟͕̫̳̫̟͉̟͉͕̜̱̣͇̳̗̲̪̭̩͔̼͎̹̱̩͑̊͒̈́̔̏́̂̅̓͊̀̄́̍̇̀̈́͛̽͆̍̓̒͂̌̇̋̓͘̕͜͜͜͠͠͝͝ͅ ̷̢̧̛̥̞͕̬̭̜͎͔̺̖̝̮̬̩͚̭̜͙̀͆͌͑́̓͊̊̋̌͂͆͝y̶̨̢̡̡̢̘̙̬̜̹̬̘̫͚̜̫̻̘̖͔̮̙̼̲̞͔̺̠͉̩̞̪͕͕̞̯͖̣̜͕͎͉̰̍͑̔̑̓̈̈̏͂́͗̉̊̅̑́̈̂̄̈́̄̈́̍͒̎̔̈̓̃̎͒͊͑́̓̌̑͗̂̀̏̚̕͜͝o̷̱͗̄͒̀̍͒̅͑̔̊̔̎͛́̃͑̌̿̌̀̈͂̒̏̅͒̋̈́̈́͘͝ứ̷̳̤̬̊̎͊͗̅̇̄̾͂͛̿͋́͊̃͗̿̾͒͊̂́̓͑̅͆̔̏͐̆̓̓̍͛̐̍̿͆̚͘͠͠͝͝ ̷̛̯̮̮̬̭̝̫̎̿̑̍́͗͛̀̃́̊̍͑̊̉̽̏̚͘͠c̸̡̨̞̗̠̱̭̜̩̥̱͚̲̥͖̘̤̹̱̪̬͊̄́̑͜͜ͅa̵̮̬͕̣̪̳̳͎͒͌͊̄̆́̋̎̊̆̀̓͂͗̽̐̂̽̀̚͜͝͝n̷̢̧̛̛̛̦͙͖͕̝̣̹̤͔̹̦̱̲̻̗̱̳̦̝̦͉̪͓͕̩̻̞̮̩̘̲̬͖̰̞̗͔͖͉̠͚̮̎̈́͌̒͑̊̃̓́̈̐͊̑̏̉̽̆̍̌́̊̈́̈́̆̄̿̆͆̀̓̇̊͘͠͠͠.̷̧̧̳̯̲͔̯͓̼̳͕̮͓̖͈̪͙̫̲̜͚̮̳̬͇͚̝̳͔̳̭͕̍̈͛͒̀̂́͜.̶̡̧̢̢̧̢̯̰̝̥̭͕͔̥̲͍̼̺̥͍͇̞͖̭͉̫̹̩͉̟̿̋̅̑̈́̈́̈́͒͐̊̔̃̉̈́͛̋̈́̓̎̽̎͑̓̆͛͂̍̃̐̚͜͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅ.̵̨̙̼͉̘̫͈̮̹͕̮̙͈͉͂̀̈́̒͜

‘Angeles?!’

So many voices hit him all at once. Loud, quiet, loathing, pensive, grieving, confused, authoritative, pained, loving – as if an entire mob implanted their whole protest at once in his head. The sudden mental strain caused him to buckle, with one hand clutching his sweating head while the other held Balmung’s handle in a death grip.

Unknown to Siegfried, his source of light fluttered towards the sleeping dragon.

Deliberate deep breaths steadied him ‘Where are you, Angeles?! Are you-’

Siegfried found his side bathed in red light. No…

The entire covering of light scales scattered, leaving only him and his master alone.

He kept pushing down his horrible conclusion, yet it stared right back at him, mocking. Two large slit eyes, barely opened, stared back at him; three all-too-familiar command seals burned brightly from one feathery front foot. God in heaven, why was this even allowed? Why her? Why them?!

He hardly noticed tears starting to stream down his face as he continued to gawk at his master, panting with eyes wide in disbelief. Angeles, or whatever was left of her, sluggishly raised her gargantuan head to meekly nuzzle him. Siegfried twitched in response.

His master suddenly glued her eyes shut, removing herself from him. A deafening roar filled the dragon-slayer’s exhausted ears. Both clawed front feet curled tightly into themselves, drawing blood, while her expansive wings moved to shield her bloodied body. Fresh streams dribbled from her long maw, concentrating the already profuse scent of iron around the step-pyramid.

One strong pulse of energy thrummed into him, complemented by the loss of red light.

One more memory from his time in Chaldea surfaced.

“I trust you, love.” He choked.

A second influx of mana coursed into him, dimming the red light further.

‘I’m so sorry Angeles…’

A third came, and in the dark he finally steadied himself, preparing Balmung for its Noble Phantasm.

‘I’ll make this as painless as I can...’

Blinding blue light emanated from his sword, encapsulating him as his master could only restrain herself from lunging.

“BALMUNG!”

One more ear-splitting roar rent the air. Master and servant equally sundered by their own wills, as golden light danced around fading blues.

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What a way to introduce a mastersona, eh? Well consider this non-canon to my AU, an ephemeral nightmare for both her and Siegfried during the Lostbelt saga. Obviously, since I haven’t ironed out all the details regarding her dragon curse, some details may be retconned later on. In the mean time, I’ll go ahead and revise my mastersona’s profile from my notes. It’s mostly a bullet-point list with a few paragraphs as of now.

#fgo mastersona #no other tags because #I'd rather not clog certain tags #oh and if you're wondering about the butterflies #that would be another interference by Quetzalcoatl #I'll leave it to your imagination about the lesser Fafnirs lol #cw: blood #cw: death #cw: body horror #OC x canon

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the-eldritch-it-gay · 2 months

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I realized the other day I don't think I've properly shared my Sanrymic lineup/reference. So! Here they are!

Sanrymic Tēhal (aka Flint) is a Scourge Aasimar Monk (Way of Mercy). Lots of thought went into their design, and the motifs of life, death, and rebirth. They're indigiqueer and use they/them pronouns.

The original concept with their name and design was partially inspired specifically by Mictēcacihuātl (death symbolism). Since they're an aasimar, I gave them feathers, but specifically Quetzal feathers which are associated Quetzalcoatl (life symbolism). I also decided against a halo because it seemed a tad christian lmao.

#Eldritch IT Speaks #eldritch it art #oc: sanrymic #i love them dearly. they're also psychotic like me <3

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feralplantwife · 7 months

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If If Olrox is not revealed to be Quetzalcoatl by the end of Castlevania Nocturne I will literally never be happy again.

You might think I'm too eager, but consider my evidence!

1) The Orisha exist.

2) Sekhmet exists.

3) God may or may not exist (but Hell and Death definitely do)

This is Olrox's dragon form next to a depiction of Quetzalcoatl from Teotihuacan:

Quetzalcoatl is known as the Feathered Serpent among many other things I'm not well-versed enough to go into, but gods be damned Olrox's dragon form sure is a good approximation. His domains also include light and the daytime, which are obviously a Very Big Deal in vampire stories.

I love the nuance of Olrox's character on his own, of course! He's compelling, secretive, supercilious, and self-assured. But I would very much love for this boost. Adding another walking god to the mix against Erzsebet Bathory/Sekhmet will do a lot to enrich the themes we're working with.

#castlevania nocturne #castlevania netflix #olrox #olrox castlevania #erzsebet bathory #i LOVE what this show is working with #i want to eat this show #fan theory

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givemearmstopraywith · 28 days

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i just watched someone saying "christianity is and always will be the cultural appropriation of religions" and they mentioned the resurrection, which surprises me a little. do you know what they could be referring to? they also called it a very common trope and i'm no theologian, don't know that much about other religions or mythology, so maybe you could help?

resurrection narratives are absolutely not unique to christianity. there are resurrection narratives in the religion of ancient egypt (osiris), greece (adonis, zagreus, dionysus, and attus), and sumer (dumuzid and inanna). all of these predate christianity by centuries. to consider resurrection myths appropriation is, however, rather ignorant: the mythologies of the ancient near east are absolutely woven together, to the point where they are almost indistinguishable from each other, especially in the early history of the hebrews. the roman empire was heavily influenced by hellenic culture, religion, and philosophy. consider dionysus, the god of wine: plutarch stated that the stories of osiris and dionysus were identical and that the secret rituals asociated with them were obviously paralleled: the second century AD saw the emergence of greco-egyptian pantheons where the god serapis was synonymous with osiris, hades, and dionysus. this is also similar to the interrelationship between inanna, ishtar, asherah, astarte, and multiple other near eastern female deities (and she likely played an influence in the development of lilith as well). how much did the cult of dionysus influence later rites of the wine and the eucharist in early christianity, especially given that within fifty years of christ's death most christians were greeks? romulus and remus were said to have been born to a virgin, and so was the founder of zoroastrianism, zoroaster, a religion that influenced platonic philosophy and all abrahamic faiths.

christianity is more guilty of appropriation that most other faith practices of appropriation because of the crudeness and hatefulness with which it borrowed judaism and then turned on the jews. but attempting to divide western and near eastern religious traditions into pure (original) and impure (appropriated) is next to impossible. otherwise we can start trying to particularize everything as either pure or impure and discard what we deem as "impure" or unoriginal because we think it is valueless, hackneyed, or unethical. religion does not work like that. christianity does require critical consumption and practice because it has both appropriated judaism and because the way in which it exerted itself as a dominant religion over other faith practices. and the appropriation of judaism must be especially viewed as troubling, because judaism cannot be compared, historically, to religions like those of ancient egypt and greece because until the state of israel it was never a dominant or state religion, and the fact that it survived some odd thousand years without being recognized as a state religion is part of why it's particularly interesting. of course, that has changed now, but this ask isn't about israel/palestine and i won't dwell on it this issue much except to reaffirm that christianity appropriating an oppressed minority religion that emerged out of colonial contexts is very different than christianity utilizing aspects of ancient greek religion or zoroastrianism, and also different from jesus being included in islam, for instance.

interestingly, quetzalcoatl, from the ancient aztec religion, was the patron of priests and a symbol of resurrection. this gestures to the hidden sacred, eliade's hierophany: the hidden holiness, the sacrality and beingness of something beyond ourselves, that underlies all existence, with its own explicit truths that emerge consistently in faith practices that, unlike those of the near east, never interacted. maybe we all carried the same stories out of the cradle of civilization; maybe there is a perpetual and accessible truth that transcends boundaries. i don't know. but everything is borrowed. everything is copy. humanity is not capable of true originality: and isn't that beautiful? everything is taken in communion. everyone is interconnected. everyone wants to believe something, and we seem to be universally compelled by the same truths, motifs, meanings, and stories.

#replies

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obeythebutler · 2 years

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anyways before i forget.

coward!MC lesson 16 reactions,,, bro the angst potential there is so real idk even where to start.

i legit imagine,,, you're in such a state of abject terror and shock, like, you literally died, not a game, no joking, it HAPPENED, and no one saved you, belphie didn't stop, there was absolutely nothing you could do

first lucifer rejecting you, and then this. it'd be a massive setback to any kind of bravery you'd been able to muster because seriously, post lesson 16, literally fuck that. you could DIE, this is REAL, and you were stupid for ever forgetting that.

hhh just. satan, lucifer, mammon,, whichever other boys (i love me some dia so maybe him and barb, who probably deserves to feel at least a little responsible), knowing how much you suffer. trying to help.

HNNNNNG YOU WROTE MC'S TERROR SO FUCKING GOOD AND NOW THE ANGST POWER LIVES IN MY BRAIIIIN

strongly worded and more detailed letters to follow, love, elsey,

Coward! MC here

Hellfire tea sits cold in your lap.

The flames in the fireplace burn with vigour, bright and burning as expected of something like Hell. Mammon once threw a broken chair in there, to hide it from the eldest, and it reduced to ashes in front of your eyes within seconds.

The fire devour anything it gets.

Like that black tapir roasted to perfection by Satan. Babylon curry stirred by Asmodeus, with two pink hairclips that he put in place before beginning with the cooking and as he chirped "so that my hair won't be affected by the heat !," and the cheerful chatter in the air. Plans made and some promptly turned away (exploring all Devildom restaurants in a day might just lead to bankruptcy) and smiles which were not seen before.

And Quetzalcoatl brain soup stirred by a tall demon.

For his twin, of course.

Bony fingers that gripped the ladle and lips curling into a smile at the taste. Those same fingers around your throat. Tightening, not letting you breathe even when you begged. Black spots in your vision and a throbbing pain in your chest after having been thrown down the stairs. You must have broken a bone or two in there, but you're not sure.

You're not even sure why you are alive.

Belphegor laughs, and you freeze in your seat, fork with spaghetti twisted around it falling on the table with a plop!

You blame it on clumsy hands. And yet, your heartbeat can be heard by inhumane ears.

You stare at it with detachment, perhaps wondering if the piece of food will jump to life.

"Here," Belphegor says, passing you a plate of sushi. "I thought you would like it, since its from the human world."

You stare but smile, and when his fingers brush against yours you tremble.

"I missed out on a lot, didn't I?" He mentions with gaze half-lidded. "I want to catch up on everything."

You chew on rice and fish but the taste doesn't matter at the moment. The room is gigantic and you already dwarf in comparison. Eyes gaze at you in concern, but you pay no heed.

Did your death even get a mourning?

When Belphegor says your name, you nod and say yes.

Even when you beg yourself to say no and get out, out of the room where he is sitting and eating and you're dining with him and his brothers and you're dining with rejection and death in front of you and oh god you can't say no—

Your fingers dig into your thigh.

"MC, are you alright?" Asmodeus whispers, unable to avoid the way in which your hands tremble when Belphegor is near. You don't hear him, continuing to stare at the half-eaten sushi on your plate. Your heart pounds in your chest, the familiar tendrils of fear clinging to you as the seventhborn draws nearer.

"MC—"

He is barely able to place a hand on your shoulder before you jolt, throwing away your cutlery with a clang. The chair makes a noise that makes everyone else wince, following which you're gone and out of the dining room.

You're gone in a flash, footsteps fading with the door of your room slamming shut.

This is your chance.

Go back in time. Find out what helped Belphegor escape. Come back.

Sounds like a pretty neat plan.

"Thank you, MC." When Lucifer expresses his gratitude for your help, you smile in understanding.

Even after what has happened, you will show everyone that you can be better. That you're not the coward you used to be. After having faced rejection and cried outside the firstborn's door, writing on paper that tore due to how much you erased your work and after Lucifer's demon form towering over you. Teeth bared in a display of aggression, and the sickening thud that was made when Beel collided with the furniture.

And after all that has happened, things are finally looking up for you. You've fallen down many times, but you're learning to brush yourself and get up, persevere, and not shrink when faced with the slightest threat.

This is your chance, you affirm, clenching your fist. You can finally prove that you're worthy of respect, a value that you want to be admired for.

"Remember, you must not tell anyone that you are from the future, as well as me. That might end up warping history. Return after finding out the reason for Belphegor's escape."

The butler instructs, finger under his chin. You nod, flashing the demon a smile to let him know that you are prepared. Barbatos's warning echoes clear in your head as you approach the door, and open it, revealing a purple mist.

When you look back at the demon, his expression reveals nothing. Bidding him bye, you step forward.

You can't wait to return.

As soon as the haze clears, you find yourself in the hallway of the House of Lamentation. You pace around, trying to ascertain as to during which event you are here.

The sound of bickering catches your ears, and you step forward into Mammon's room.

"When you're silencing yourself, ensure to quieten that stomach too!"

"Hey! Don't ask me to do the impossible!"

"Lucifer and MC should have opened up to each other by now."

Your breath hitches in your throat as you take in Asmo's words. So the whole game with the firstborn was planned...

A smile forms on your face at the realisation, but it drops as soon as you remember that they don't know what will happen. Screaming and shouting. Bristled wings and snarls. Threats on your life. Careful to not make noise, you step forward to listen better.

And the sound of the empty can crushing beneath your feet is enough to attract attention.

Mammon's head whips around. "I didn't know you were in here the whole time!" He says in disbelief, and the others look on. You gulp, having the urge to get out of the room without explaining yourself, but you stop.

"Yeah, I followed Satan around.." You mutter, embarrassed, and the fourthborn frowns.

"See! I told you to be careful" Asmo complains, pointing a finger accusingly at his brother. "Now look what you've done."

The idea to make Lucifer and you talk again has not worked out, and the demon pouts.

Levi furrows his brows."You should see him." He says, and you nod, glad to get out and solve the mission. Back in the hallway, you hear faint voices, and on inspecting closely you discover that they're coming from the top of the stairs.

Where Belphegor is held prisoner.

"The old Lucifer wasn't like this! The old Lucifer didn't care what others thought of him!"

You don't hear a retort.

Perhaps this was one of the many reasons why you fell in love with Lucifer. Brave and confident of himself, willing to sacrifice himself for those who loves.

Something you wouldn't have been able to muster the courage for.

But you're growing. You're making progress, as small that might be. You no longer tolerate lower-level demons stepping up and stealing your lunch or bothering you in class. Grades are improving, and so are your relations in the house.

You don't want it all to shatter.

You don't want to pick yourself up again like that night.

Descending footsteps alert you, and so you hide.

And Belphegor's pleading voice for help is something you are unable to resist.

And so you step forward and open the door.

And so Belphegor embraces you.

And then he transforms.

"What—What the hell are you doing?!" You stammer, fear creeping in your veins at the sudden reveal of his demon form. "Belphegor, what exactly are you planning?"

When his hand curl around your neck, you scream.

He pushes you against the wall of the attic, your head colliding with the stone, further adding to your agony. The demon laughs, and you wonder if this is his genuine smile, finally revealed in a moment of cruelty.

"Don't blame me for tricking you, blame yourself for falling for it," He snarls, teeth too sharp and eyes too bright in the dim light. You struggle to breathe, your clawing and kicking of no use.

"Please," You beg, barely able to rasp out words when he squeezes your neck so tightly you fear he might just wrung it and kill you. "I don't want to—I—please d-don't—"

His smile is cruel.

"It's rather unpleasant, in't it? Being choked like this." Belphegor laughs, the sound throaty and cruel, and you feel your heart breaking further at the betrayal. You thought you were friends. You trusted him. You freed him.

All that courage you had gathered, all gone to waste. Your mission—failed. What you feared during your time in the Devildom is happening, and you can't even do anything to stop it.

You are about to die.

Your vision blurs with tears, and you struggle to breathe in his grasp.

Not this time. Not this. Anything but this. Please don't kill me.

His laugh still rings in your ears as your eyes close.

"Not my breakfast!"

Leviathan protests, unable to do anything but watch as Beel downs the rest of his food, miffed at his ignorance. He slams his hand on the table, and Lucifer frowns.

"Beel and Levi—"

The delicate normalcy in the room has been broken, and now it lies shattered like a thousand glass pieces that will be hard to pick up and will pierce skin.

If not of demons, than of a human.

The demon straightens his posture, realising that his presence has stopped the chatter that he had anticipated. Belphegor gazes around the room, and when he turns to look his brothers in the eye they don't meet his gaze.

"Come on," He drawls, pulling back the chair to sit down, the sound making everyone wince. "Continue."

He grabs his portion of bread and soup, but no one resumes their actions.

Indifferent, the demon takes a bite of the bread.

"So...are you going along with Belphie to school?" Asmo questions, hand resting under his chin.

Besides him, Leviathan announces that he will grab something to eat at the cafeteria, and the fading footsteps create a sound no one wants to hear.

Belphegor takes a sip of the soup. "MC doesn't have to go along if they don't want to." His expression reveals nothing; and your shoulders sag with relief.

You don't go with Belphegor to school that day.

But that doesn't spare you from his presence next to yours in the class.

Neither does the fact that you're sitting next to the demon that killed you once.

Has he brushed aside what happened so easily? And have the others done the same? You ask yourself as the professor demonstrates how to manifest magic circles. And rejection still sits bitter within you.

After that class is over, you have to go shopping for Diavolo's birthday. You're not sure if you'll be able to do that with Belphegor around.

Every step you take will have to be done with caution. Because you, foolish human, had forgotten that you were defenseless, with or without the pacts.

They knew what would happen when you would step into the portal.

Neither did you find someone who loved you.

Neither was your love returned.

The pain of rejection dulls in comparison to death, and even then you find yourself in shambles.

You were, after all, sent to your demise instead. You laugh at the fact, a low chuckle that breaks off into a crack at the end, and it doesn't help that Mammon winces noticing your expression of happiness is a bitter one. Nor is it true.

After running into the residents of Purgatory hall, you find that nothing escapes Simeon's gaze.

When he advices you to serve as a bridge for the brothers, you are tempted to cackle.

The angel quietens when he sees the dark circles under your eyes, and the way your eyes dart around the stairs, waiting for someone to strike. Instead Simeon breathes out, murmuring that you are welcome to come to Purgatory Hall whenever you wish. The angel doesn't know what took place, but he knows you're in turmoil.

"If you want someone to talk to, I'm right here." He departs with those words.

He leads Luke back home.

He doesn't know what to say.

And your vision blurs as they walk away.

Nothing can be said of this moment, nothing is left to say. Its silence silences.

Game night is not a peace-building activity.

Rather, it leads to chaos.

"Wrong decision Mammon! You could have had Ruri work as an idol and instead you've sent her to the casino!"

"She'll make more money and then you'll get more! Stop shoutin at me!"

"This was my videogame—"

The door slams open.

And then it begins.

"So you're telling me that Beel is feelin guilty because he didn't know you were being held..prisoner?"

"What else," Belphegor rolls his eyes, and when his gaze meets yours his expression is unreadable. He settles away from you, swiping a pillow from Levi's lap who gazes around the room, and placing it on his own. Although he's not touching you, his presence is enough to inspire fear. Your nerves stay on edge, body stiffening as you attempt to stay still and not shrivel besides him.

You want to go back to your room.

"Should we go and see Beel?" Mammon mutters in your ear, not wanting to let Belphie hear, but the action has you nearly jolting in your place.

Your eyes are downcast. "S-Sure," You whisper, voice low. "We should see him." You play with your thumb, refusing to meet either brother's gaze. The audio from the game stops playing, and the silence that follows starts to envelope the room in a heavy blanket.

The secondborn frowns.

"Ya alright?" He questions, eyes travelling over your form, inspecting for any injuries you might have been trying to hide or any signs of illness, but when he sees the way your hands tremble and breath runs ragged Mammon bends down.

"Let's go to your room MC, how about that?"

You nod, and let him lead the way.

When the door closes again, it is Levi's turn to gape at Belphegor.

"They're scared of you," He blurts out, unable to bear the silence. "MC doesn't want to be near you."

Belphegor stares at the tank in resignation.

Back in your room, Mammon dims the lights with a simple incantation that he heard Lucifer recite countless times. "Thanks," You say, voice muffled under the blanket. The demon smiles, his eyes looking unusually bright in the dark, but you brush it aside as a demon quirk.

"Anything for ya."

He turns to leave, ready to walk out the door and close it, then walk straight towards the end of the hallway where—

"Mammon?"

His name comes out in a whisper, and he stills.

"Could you stay?"

A smile. "Of course."

"Are you alright?"

Lucifer questions, and you tremble.

"I'm fine," You mumble, unable to meet his gaze. You don't have the courage to even look the demon in the eye, and so you stare at your notebook. "Just doing some assignments," You blurt, picking up a pencil in hopes of making yourself look busy. "We've got a test tomorrow in Hexes and Curses."

The demon eyes you, lips turned downwards and brows furrowed.

The man can see you trembling. The way your eyes flicker nervously over lines of text, or the way you keep fidgeting with the pencil.

You're scared.

And who's fault is it?

Who is responsible for your death?

Who is responsible for locking Belphegor?

Who is responsible for the fall from the Celestial Realm?

Who is responsible for destroying any courage you had gathered?

All these questions are screamed at him, and the war comes to mind. When others had believed in him, and he failed them.

He failed you.

Lucifer knows that it is him, and no other being. All that had happened to you are the consequences of his own actions. That after having finally gathered yourself from the pain of rejection, the pain of dying had finally torn down any remnants of your happiness and peace here.

And...would you even trust him?

The firstborn asks himself this question as he ogles your form; desperately trying to find a way for you or him to leave. Because he can't be trusted, not anymore.

And he can't even believe you when you say that you're fine.

"You should rest," He says, voice raspy. "The past few days have been....."

The demon winces, stopping himself before he goes and says something that will tear the manufactured normalcy you've been desperately trying to present.

You nod in return, muttering out a 'good night,' before gathering your notebook and scurrying out from the room. You can feel eyes burning holes in the back of your head; you can feel Lucifer staring at you, but you don't want to look back.

And as your footsteps retreat, Lucifer replaces the vacant spot you had left, on the chair.

He inspects the wood, eyes gazing over the material before he rests his head on it—too exhausted to do anything else. Too tired to try right now.

He's worsened your agony.

Gloves fingers pick up the pencil lying abandoned, and the firstborn stares at it. Your departure sets something in his chest throbbing with pain, and he knows it is love that he cannot speak about.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

He loves you. But it is an affection he does not have the courage to speak about, for his actions say something else.

Does he even deserve you?

Lucifer's throat tightens, and he refuses to acknowledge it.

His mind drifts back to the time when his brothers were creating a fuss about that Devilgram photo with you and Satan. How you both looked so happy and it was someone else who'd made you smile. How hard you had cried that night when he had rejected you and how scared you were after. How you avoided him after and how you must have cried and how scared you must have been when Belphegor killed you—

A garbled cry spills from his throat.

The sound Lucifer makes is something he's mortified to hear from himself. The man's vision blurs and all he can feel is the agony in his chest. His face is wet. And upon realising that the library isn't soundproof he casts an enchantment, through a tone that cracks in the end.

No one will be able to hear his cries now.

Your spirits have been crushed, and the MC he once knew is gone, replaced by one that had their spirits defeated.

Lucifer is witness to that. From watching you run away, leaving behind Beel and Luke in the underground tomb to standing in front of Diavolo, going back in time....and being rejected and yet bouncing back...there's no greater testimony than it.

He calls you to his room the night before you're supposed to leave for the human world.

You walk into the room to see Lucifer by the fireplace. The flames frame his features in a way which takes away your breath. It is in this moment that you're reminded that you are in a room with the Avatar of Pride and fallen angel, Lucifer himself.

You suppose there's no better time to be wary than now.

In hindsight, you should have never trusted them from the start. For who knew smiles and laughter would get you killed? So when the demon asks for you, it takes fifteen minutes itself to muster up courage to move.

And even more to stand in front of him.

"Come, sit down," He murmurs, gesturing to an empty couch across him. "Please make yourself comfortable."

The man attempts to make yourself feel relaxed in his presence, but you can't help the racing of your heart when you sit down on the plush couch, darting your gaze around the room, looking everywhere but in his eyes. When you finally do, look in his direction, you find that Lucifer is not scrutinizing you.

Rather, he's focused on the fire.

"I chose you as the exchange student for this programe." Lucifer declares, voice somber.

You fidget in your seat, not knowing what to make of his words. When he looks at you, your guts tell you to flee, yet you remain like a deer frozen in headlights.

"There were times when I regretted my choice."

Your heart sinks. You know Lucifer doesn't have the best opinion of you, you are pretty sure you are nothing more than a coward in his eyes, just a human to take care of for a year. A responsibility.

"But I made the right choice in choosing you." Lucifer smiles, and it is an expression full of warmth, unlike anything you've seen before.

"H-How?" You question, utterly bewildered and confused. "I thought you—that you—"

"That you had no value in my eyes." The man cuts you off, and you flinch. "That I had no respect for you." Your hands tremble, not knowing where this conversation is leading to. The door is right in front of you, maybe if you just excused yourself—

Yet another part wants to stay. Remain and listen to the demon. Lucifer's voice is soft. "I was wrong about you," He admits, smiling softly. "For you are someone to be respected."

"Ever since the day I saw you in the Devildom, I assumed that you would be another hassle, another responsibility to take care of. And observing you during your first week here, didn't exactly put a decent impression of you in my mind."

You gape at the man, waiting for him to continue.

"You ran away from me in the underground tomb, and yet you went up the stairs that I stated were forbidden. I have seen you struggling with coursework, thrust into a new environment which you did not consent to have been put into..." He places a hand under his chin. "In hindsight, I should have been more understanding of your situation. I was the one to bring you here and you even got killed because of my mistake.."

"Don't say that."

He sighs, his shoulders sagging, and you've never seen Lucifer look more defeated.

"I have seen you grow. I assumed you were weak, a coward, and yet you grew and overcame your fears. You have helped me and my family immensely, and all I did was get in your way." He says, and your heart aches. "I've been cruel."

A sob chokes your throat.

"I am proud of you for what you have done and achieved, and I can never make enough reparations for what you had to suffer. But I swear I will prevent anything like this from occurring again." He gets up, suddenly, startling you. "And I offer you my pact as promise and as gratitude."

And as you watch, the Morningstar gets on his knees in front of you.

"Control over me as your demon, and you my Master," He mumbles. "Will you allow me the honour of making a pact with you?"

When Lucifer gazes at you with nothing but sincerity in his eyes, you have to blink back tears.

"Y-Yes."

The firstborn bows his head. "You will never have to fear me again." He swears. "And I will give you a reason to believe." And with that, you feel infernal magic flowing through your veins. A burst of energy so intense that it raises your heartbeat and makes you close your eyes momentarily.

When you open them again, you feel powerful.

For you have command over the Morningstar himself.

"Thank you," You whisper, placing your hand atop his own.

Satan has seen the way you carry yourselves now at RAD, an invisible presence amongst the crowd of chattering demons. Withdrawn and downcast. Despite the pacts, you were murdered.

He's seen you fall and rise, unwavering determination as you gathered courage and spoke up for yourself. Improved yourself and went against Diavolo, the literal Prince who few dared to oppose. You went back in time for all of them, and what did that get you?

Death.

But now you can barely muster any courage to even look him in the eye. Lucifer and Belphegor have made their pacts with you too in penance and forgiveness, but that is not enough to help the trauma inflicted upon you.

Satan doesn't know what to say now, seeing your downcast gaze and the way you tremble when Belphegor is near. He's seen you rise and fall, and seeing you destroyed makes Satan realise that he and his brother are all responsible for what happened to you. He loves you too; for seeing you strive to improve and overcome the fear that is justifiably humane, and observing you grow reminds Satan of himself.

But you've fallen down and been killed.

Therapy, he concludes one week before you're supposed to leave. It is perhaps the best option for you.

And all that on Diavolo's dime.

Lucifer and Satan had worked it out all together, and the Prince had readily agreed. He knew what would happen, and yet he allowed it.

One life in exchange for peace and order.

It sounds simple, but when you realise the weight it carries you can't bring yourself to do it. The man is a Prince, and with that title comes responsibilities and power more than anyone could fathom.

But did it give him the right to put you in a completely different realm and place an unwanted burden on your shoulders?

He muses, late at night when the moon is at its brightest. When he can't sleep, and the dark circles in the morning will surely concern Barbatos who won't hold back on a lecture.

But some questions won't stop bothering him.

Do you hate him?

Would you have hated him?

For what he's done to you?

Was he making the right choices?

Was he trying enough?

But he's still learning, still observing, still growing. He never lies.

And Diavolo doesn't ever want such a circumstance to occur. When he felt infernal magic radiating from you, so intense and of a magnitude that only the firstborn could muster, the Prince knew what had happened.

Pacts with the seven avatars.

Command over them.

Could....would you have forged one with him, if possible? Would you want to? He wants to ask, and yet Diavolo knows he can't make one even if you were willing.

Not yet.

But he'll work towards ensuring a world where he can.

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whencyclopedia · 7 days

Photo

Xipe Totec

Xipe Totec (pron. Xi-pe To-tec) or 'Flayed One' in Nahuatl, was a major god in ancient Mesoamerican culture and particularly important for the Toltecs and Aztecs. He was considered the god of spring, the patron god of seeds and planting and the patron of metal workers (especially goldsmiths) and gemstone workers. He is equivalent to the Red Tezcatlipoca, patron of Cuauhtli (eagle), the unfavourable 15th Aztec day-name and he was represented by the date 1 Océlotl.

Early Origins

Xipe Totec perhaps originated with the Olmec culture and developed from their ancient God VI. Another possible origin is from the Yope civilization in the southern highlands of Guerrero. The first representations of the god in art, however, date to the Post-classical period (9th to 12th century CE) in the Mazapan culture at Texcoco. The god was a major Aztec deity and was also worshipped by the Tlaxcaltecans, Zapotecs, Mixtecs, Tarascan and Huastecs. The late Post-classical Maya also adopted Xipe Totec and representations of the god survive at Oxkintok, Chichen Itza and Mayapan.

In Mesoamerican mythology Xipe Totec was the son of the primordial androgynous god Ometeotl and, specifically in Aztec mythology, he was the brother of those other three major gods Tezcatlipoca, Huizilopochtli and Quetzalcoatl. Sometimes credited with being a creator god along with his brothers, Xipe Totec was also closely associated with death, which resulted in him being considered the source of diseases amongst mankind. However, the god also received many offerings from worshippers calling for him to cure illnesses, especially eye ailments.

#History #AztecReligion #AztecSacrifice #XipeTotec #WHE #[#]

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talonabraxas · 3 months

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The significance of this day Day Ehecatl (Wind, known as Ik in Maya) is governed by Quetzalcoatl as its provider of tonalli (Shadow Soul) life energy.

Quetzalcoatl 🐉 Talon Abraxas

The god Quetzalcoatl, is the Feathered Serpent or Precious Twin. He is the god intelligence and self-reflection, a patron of priests.

Quetzalcoatl is a primordial god of creation, a giver of life. With his opposite Tezcatlipoca he created the world. Quetzalcoatl is also called White Tezcatlipoca, to contrast him to the black Tezcatlipoca.

As the Lord of the East he is associated with the morning star, his twin brother Xolotl was the evening star (Venus). As the morning star he was known by the name Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli, "lord of the star of the dawn." An other representation of Quetzalcoatl is Ehecatl, the Wind God. His calendrical name is Ce Acatl (One Reed).

After the last world, the Fourth Sun had been destroyed, Quetzalcoatl went to Mictlan, the land of the death, and created our current world, the Fifth Sun, by using his own blood to give new life to bones. Quetzalcoatl is also the giver of maize (corn) to mankind.

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krysanthii · 5 months

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Olrox %100 cockblocked himself here. I wouldn’t say he’s in love with Mizrak because it’s more of a casual thing and they were both using each other to get information but Mizrak begrudgingly was catching feelings for Olrox.

Olrox probably gravitated to Mizrak not because he reminded him of his late lover but has a certain type that he is attracted to that both his late lover and Mizrak share. Idealistic, undying loyalty, and devotion to a cause which is catnip for a cynical centuries old Olrox. Not saying the love was comparable but Olrox cockblocked himself to prevent any future heartache but still had a fondness for Mizrak but stopped it in its tracks to prevent it from going any further.

People hate Mizrak for not appreciating that Olrox saved his life but forget that he left Richter and the others to die. Mizrak risked his entire faith and went against the Abbott when he saw he broken his vow and going to sacrifice his own daughter. Mizrak was HORRIFIED and went to Tera to help. He KILLED his monk brothers in arms to stop the Abbott from killing his own daughter and prevent the end of the world. Mizrak chose to be by Richter’s side and die for them. Olrox swooped him away preventing him a dignified death and most likely Mizrak would’ve died but he rather die on his own terms than ran away like a coward. He fought against Olrox’s arms and more concerned about Richter, Maria, Tera and Annette who are still in the abbey with an all power vampire GOD and Olrox took him and left all the rest to die!

Was it cruel what Mizrak said? Absolutely but was it wrong? No.

Mizrak compared Olrox to an animal because animals flee during the times of danger and thinking on their own survival instead of others and caring only about themselves which Mizrak sees as selfish. And Olrox did lose his soul and most likely trade it when he became part of Quetzalcoatl and I’m hoping it’ll allude to that in the future!

Mizrak asked that if Olrox had planned to turn him into a vampire because he doesn’t know where he stands and Olrox says he’s not in love with him so why would Mizrak want to stick around Olrox when he doesn’t love him? Mizrak probably thinks Olrox is using him like some sort of pet. An amusement. We see how unstable and unbalanced vampire/humans dynamic is! (except for Dracula and Lisa of course) Remember with Hector and Lenore? We see that how Drolta and Erzsabet treat that human girl.

Mizrak doesn’t want to become whatever play thing for Olrox because he’d seen first hand how vampires treat humans as toys, sex slaves, food supply, and pets. Mizrak doesn’t want to become that and Olrox made it clear he doesn’t love Mizrak so why would he stay with him? Mizrak took whatever scrap of dignity he had left and ran to join Richter and the others.

Is this the end for them? Absolutely not because both Olrox and Mizrak were both flip flopping on their ideals and had their own “fuck this I’m out” epiphanies. Mizrak’s world view has been shattered and the Abbott is a fraud and wants to sacrifice his daughter to a vampire god and Olrox has his when this megalomanic wants to eat the sun and colonize his homeland. Both left the sides they are previously on and Olrox aligning himself with Richter and co to stop Erzsabet, Mizrak May return to his arms again or at least reconcile because both are fighting on the same side. They are both grown adults and hopefully talk it out and have the same goal aligning them for the world not to end in darkness.

#castlevania #castlevania olrox #castlevania nocturne #olrox/mizrak #mizrox #olrak

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hallo-anon · 6 months

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141!Monster au Part 2

Banshee!Roach who blew out Simon's eardrums before he died, then took a vow never to speak again

Barguest!Alex who has dog-like features(Ears, tail, legs) and gets commonly mistaken for a werewolf

Shahmaran!Farah who has the bottom half of a Arabian Horned Viper with the horns on her forehead as well

Alebrijes!Alejandro who can shapeshift, but it can only be into a hybrid of 2 or more animals with very wacky and eccentric colors

Comaztoz!Rudy who has horrible vision and amazing hearing, to the point he has to wear sound dampening earplugs half the time

Quetzalcoatl!Valeria who's human form has scales and feathers down her spine, arms, and legs but no wings

Banshee!Roach who has to have bronze dog tags because he can't touch iron

Barguest!Alex who can smell death and knows when a soldier can't be saved

Shahmaran!Farah who keeps it a secret that her blood has healing capabilities

Alebrijes!Alejandro who has to cover up head to toe on stealth ops cause he glows in the dark

Camaztoz!Rudy who has large bat wings and accidently scares the shit out of people at night

Quetzalcoatl!Valeria who huffs out smoke when aggravated due to her ability to breathe fire

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multiverseofmisfits · 1 month

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🗣 + And let's add Eta to the mix with Cyrine and Lucoa!

Send me 🗣+ the names of 2 or more muses on the blog, and there will be a random conversation written involving them.

The two ladies were just talking about the nice weather.

Meanwhile, Eta was just... well, they got stuck in between.

#this was just a quick edit hdjskdjfkdk #it was funnier in my head lol #** unknown shadesman ** (anon)#*** former aztec goddess *** (quetzalcoatl / lucoa)#*** endearing scylla *** (cyrine)#*** novelist of death *** (eta / risa yagami)#** opened mail entry ** (answered ask)#** tw: suggestive **

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leaslichoma · 6 months

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I've been fascinated with the Aztec god Xolotl recently.

Xolotl (pronunced Sho-lo-t followed by an L like sound that doesn't exist in the English language) was a Mesoamerican god associated with many things, including fire, lightning, disease, deformity, twins, the Mesoamerican ball game, death, dogs, the planet Venus as the evening star, twilight, shapeshifting, and monsters. Xolotl was the twin and sometimes companion of his more famous brother Quetzalcoatl. Xolotl was thought to guide the dead in their journey through the underworld, and to guide the sun through the underworld each night. Xolotl is usually depicted as either a dog anthro, a man with a dog head, or a dwarf skeletal jester. Xolotl is usually depicted missing eyes. Xolotl seems to have been feared by the Aztecs and especially hated by the Spanish, but I have a more favorable view.

Some of the most prominent myths about Xolotl involve the story of the fifth sun, or how the current world was made from the previous, destroyed one.

The first myth involves the recreation of humanity. The tales differ as to whether Quetzalcoatl was responsible, Xolotl was responsible, or if it was a collaborative effort. The humans of the fourth world were destroyed, and humanity had to be brought back. To this end Xolotl and/or Quetzalcoatl traveled to the Aztec underworld, Mictlan and met with its king, Mictlantecutli. The god(s) asked to gather the bones of the previous humans so they could be created anew. Mictlantecutli. Mictlantecutli gives them tests but later decides against letting them gather the bones. Xolotl and/or Quetzalcoatl fall into pit, breaking the bones in the process which is why people have different heights. The bones are later resurrected. The versions of this tale differ as to which god went to Mictlan and whether they did tests for Mictlantecutli or simply stole the bones.

In the second myth, the gods are sacrificing themselves in a fire to create a fifth sun for humanity because the previous one went out. They choose Nanahuatzin, a poor and humble god with syphilis and some relation to Xolotl to become the moon; and Tecciztecatl to become the sun because he is wealthy and strong. However, Tecciztecatl is unable to throw himself in the fire when the time comes, so Nanahuatzin becomes the sun instead. Tecciztecatl is sacrificed after and becomes the moon (and also the man on the moon), but has a rabbit thrown at his face which is one explanation for the rabbit people sometimes see.

Later, Xolotl is the last to be sacrificed to the new sun. In some versions this is because he was the executioner for the previous gods. However, in some tales he refuses to sacrifice himself. Xolotl begs and cries until his eyes literally fall out but this does nothing. Xolotl transforms to escape Ehecatl who has been executing other gods to make the sun move. Xolotl at first transforms into a corn plant with two stalks, then an Agave americana, and finally an Axolotl amphibian. But he was still caught in the end.

What I find most interesting about Xolotl is his relation to disability. Since deformities are among Xolotl's best known domains, he could be considered a god of disabilities as well. Xolotl is also a god of monsters, and it's worth mentioning that the Nahua word "Xolo" which his name is derived from and means monster, is used for both mythological monsters and those with physical abnormalities, much like the Latin word "Monstrum". (I think in literature analysis the themes of monsters as outcasts could be explored more) In many, perhaps even most historical (and unfortunately even modern) societies the attitude towards those with disabilities has been very negative. In the Aztec world twins were considered unnatural, and sometimes one of them would be murdered shortly after birth. Wikipedia mentions an speculation by Eduard Seler that resonates with me: that Xolotl represents the murdered twin who dwells in the underworld while Quetzalcoatl is the living one who is cherished in the world of light.

Another connection with Xolotl and disability is that he was sometimes depicted as a jester with dwarfism. It's relevant the jesters around the world were often disabled. European court jesters were known for having the freedom to criticize and mock royalty, and were sometimes selected from the intellectually disabled because they could not be held responsible for what they said. Additionally, the Spanish during the colonization of the Aztecs sent some Aztec jesters to Spain, who were described as humpbacks.

This is what I find most interesting about Xolotl, that he is a reflection or shadow of society. Historically Xolotl was often considered a sinister god, but when society is itself sinister who is to be believed? My view of Xolotl is more favorable. The god of the disabled is feared because the disabled are hated. Xolotl is the outcast, who is hated and feared yet has done no wrong. Xolotl is the murdered twin, who looks upon the world of light and life, from a place of darkness, the world he was not given, never had the right to enjoy. He is the god who is looked upon with disgust due to his role in hardship, yet is the only one who stays with you through that hardship the entire time. Xolotl is the disabled child, who is called a child of shame and hidden away in some institution to be forgotten by their more privileged relatives. Xolotl is viewed with contempt, but his domains are just as necessary to the universe's function as any of the more handsome gods. The janitor, who is viewed with contempt and disgust yet whose works are vital for society.

The "evil twin" Xolotl, misunderstood twin and hound of Quetzalcoatl who lives in the world's shadow, watching the world of life and guarding the light of the sun through the underworld.

#LONG POST #xolotl #aztecs #aztec mythology #aztec religion #aztec gods #mexica mythology #mesoamerica #ableism cw #cw ableism #ableism tw #ableism mention #infanticide mention #filicide mention #mesoamerican mythology #infodump #infodumping

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