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prince-kallisto · 2 months

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Taking their Left Hand: A Deal with the Devil

I find it fascinating that now with the release of Crowley’s card and his groovy art, the “extending of the hand” theme has become even stronger. But now that I am looking at Crowley, Malleus, and the hand in the mirror, I noticed they are all extending their left hand!

In traditional superstitions, left handed people were associated with the Devil or just overall bad luck and clumsiness (sad to hear as a lefty myself 🤣). It is to the point that in the past, and in some cases in the present, that left handed children were forced to learn how to write with their right hand through the use of physical punishments or straight up tying their left hand down so they couldn’t use it. But where does this malicious association come from?

It varies from both culture and religion, but this book from 1891 covers the basics of it. Greek and Latin translations of “left” has several negative connotations related to clumsiness, ill omens, and in Latin it directly means “sinister.” Some lore also mentions that the left road is “the road to ruin,” and Scottish folklore even say that it is an ill omen to meet a left handed person when setting out on your journey. …Let’s put a pin on this particular note and return to it soon 👀

You may notice that in Christian iconography, God is often depicted with significance to his right hand- the “right hand of God” being his favored hand, and his left hand is the hand of judgment (The Archangel Gabriel is also known as “God’s left hand”). This is seen most clearly in the parable of sheep and goats, where the sheep are on his right side will “inherit the kingdom of god,” and the goats on his left are the fallen souls who will “depart from me… in everlasting fire.” The “right hand of God” is also used as a metaphor for his omnipotence.

This is where the Devil being associated with the left hand begins to grow. You’ll often see in art (such as cartoon or in movie cinematography) of an angel and Devil being on someone’s shoulder- and the devil is nearly always on the left- because it was believed evil spirits and even the Devil himself watched over one from the left shoulder. Some believed in the 17th century that the Devil “baptized” his followers with his left hand. And in the infamous statue of “Le Génie du Mal” (The Genius of Evil or the Spirit of Evil), Lucifer is depicted crying from his left eye, and holding a broken scepter and crown in his left hand. Notice the bitten apple below his feet, and how his left hand is also chained!

In western esotericism, there is a concept of the “left-hand path” and “right-hand path.” Right-hand path magic is light magic and associated with good and the right hand. Whereas the left-hand path is black magic, associated with evil, “amorality,” and the left hand. (Important to Note: Although the left-hand path is highly associated with black magic, it is not the same as what the left-hand path is. Many occultists critique this definition, some saying these paths don’t necessarily refers to good or bad magic. It is more the idea of amorality and seeking power and freedom through breaking constrictions, whereas true right-hand path has stricter moral codes and believe in the idea of karma/judgement)

It was even believed that witches greeted the Devil with their left hand. Women who were left handed or even had natural markings on the left side of the body were accused off being a witch during the time of the Salem Witch trials, and burned alive for it.

Now that we’ve went over this, what does this ACTUALLY mean for Crowley, Malleus, and the hand in the mirror? Returning to the pin I left earlier, meeting this left handed person is an ill omen, a road to ruin. Crowley and the hand in the mirror are the FIRST scene in the game, with Crowley even saying to take the hand in the mirror. This phrase of his is repeated throughout trailers and the manga.

Malleus is technically never the “first” person we really meet. He is notably absent at the opening ceremony, and even though he makes mysterious appearances at Ramshackle, it’s never really the “first” 🤔 BUT when we look back at Book 7, Malleus is essentially making everyone reborn into a new world without sorrow. And this scene is also where he says to take his hand. With Malleus recreating the world, he is the “first” to introduce you to it, and by taking his hand, it is the beginning of a new journey. Notice how his live 2D model has him using his left hand for magic in these scenes as well!

Crowley’s opening ceremony where he unlocks the coffins to wake everyone up feels very much like a parallel to Malleus being the orchestrator of the dreams- everyone is asleep and can only wake up by his command. We don’t yet know the identity of the hand in the mirror, but I do think it’s interesting that the Dark Mirror is the one who states that the nature of Yuu’s soul is shapeless and colorless.

And and, in official art, Malleus is frequently the one front in center, sometimes directly associated with the hand in the mirror. In this art above, there’s is the idea of the true “happily ever after,” where a crow with a key (Crowley’s symbol) is in front of the Dark Mirror, right above Malleus. All three of them are directly connected with a column of light 🤔

And and and, in Malleus’ Glorious Masquerade card and Crowley’s Raven Jacket groovy, don’t they look like they’re reaching out as a gesture of salvation or mercy? The way the light is always above on them only as they reach their hand out to you…and in Crowley’s card, the perspective is taken from inside the coffin- likes he’s leading you out/waking you from your death or something- even though he looks a bit sinister in his art🤔

Now, this is not to say that I think Crowley and Malleus are evil characters (*ﾟ▽ﾟ*) I do think there is purposeful symbolism with their left hand being an “ill omen” and associated with Devil imagery, but when I think about the left-hand path vs right-hand path, it feels like taking their hand symbolizes both freedom AND the road to ruin. Remember Crowley’s lines in the prologue- they are all running out of time, and Malleus in book 7 is looking for the happy ending. I think the story of Twisted Wonderland is inevitably a story that goes down the road to ruin, but these characters are looking for some hope in this darkness 🤔 Crowley has hope in Yuu and Grim in that they can change everything- and this change will indeed bring a lot of necessary suffering to it for the good of everyone.

I hope what I’m trying to say makes sense! 🤣 I think these parallels are really interesting, but in the end I don’t really know what they mean 🤣 I’d like to hear everyone’s thoughts on this pattern and your interpretation of things- there’s a lot of possibilities that I have never thought of! \(//∇//)\

I’d also appreciate any insight/needed correction for the biblical texts 🤔 I am not religious- so there’s possibly things I missed (*ﾟ▽ﾟ*) I have actually considered reading the full text of some sections of the Bible and such religious texts tho for Twisted Wonderland just because I’ve made several theories by now connecting to biblical lore 😭 One day perhaps- anything for my Crowley theories 🤣 I’d like to cover connections to Faust, Paradise Lost and maybe Dante’s Inferno too one day, so…my reading list is stacking up! 🤣

#twisted wonderland #twst #dire crowley #twst dire crowley #twst spoilers #twst theory #twst crowley #twst malleus #twst malleus draconia #kallistopost

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coinandcandle · 2 years

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Anubis Deity Guide

Who is Anubis?

Depicted as a being with the body of a man and the head of a jackal, Anubis is the Egyptian god of the dead. He is also the god of mummification, lost souls, and the helpless. Anubis is one of the oldest gods of ancient Egypt and was possibly derived from the older jackal god Wepwawet, as the two are often conflated.

Due to his role as god of the dead and afterlife, he also held domain over justice and has been depicted holding scales to determine the “weight” of the person’s soul.

Parents and Siblings

Ra (his father originally)

Hesat (mother)

Bastet (sometimes referred to as his mother)

Osiris (his father in later stories)

Isis (his mother in later stories)

Horus (brother)

Babi (brother)

Sopdet (sister)

Wepwawet (brother)

Bata (brother)

Lovers or Partners

Anput (female counterpart of Anubis)

Children

Kebechet

Epithets

Anpu

Tpy-djuf - He Who Is upon His Mountain

Lord of the Sacred Land

Khentyamentiu - Foremost of the Westerners

He Who Is in the Place of Embalming

Guardian of the Scales

Notes

The name “Anubis” is the Greek form of the Egyptian name “Anpu” which means to decay.

The Greeks associated Anubis with Hermes, the Greek god who guided the dead to the afterlife. The two would be joined together to create Hermanubis, making him more accessible to non-Egyptians.

He was also worshiped in Greece on the island of Delos.

Anubis was said to be the creator of embalming.

His epithet “god of the westerners” means “god of the dead” as the Egyptian term for departed souls was “westerners”. This was because it was said that the afterlife was towards the west, the direction of the sunset.

Anubis was often depicted as a black Jackal or other canine or as a human with the head of a black jackal/canine. The black coloring was likely a nod to the discoloration of a dead body as well as the fertile silt of the Nile.

Anubis was regularly invoked for protection as well as vengeance.

The center of Anubis’ cult was set in Cynopolis, or “the city of the dog” but there were shrines sprinkled throughout all of Egypt.

There is a place that was known as Anubeion, where a shrine and a cemetery of mummified dogs and jackals were discovered east of Saqqara.

Originally Anubis’ father was Ra, though as Osiris gained popularity Anubis’ story got mixed up and he became the son of Osiris and Nephthys. In this later story, Nephthys tricked Osiris into having sex with her and became pregnant with Anubis who she soon abandoned for fear that her husband, Set, would find out about the affair. Osiris’ wife, Isis, found Anubis and adopted him.

In other stories, Anubis was said to be the son of Set or Bastet.

Modern Deity Work

Correspondences

Most of these are modern correspondences I've seen across many

Rocks/Stone/Crystals

Obsidian

Smoky quartz

Onyx

Jet

Labradorite

Herbs/Plants

Cypress

Cinnamon

Myrtle

Lotus

Animals

Jackals

Canines

Symbol

Ankh

Offerings

Items or items with images of the things listed above

An altar

Beer

Bread

Candles

Cold water

Dark chocolate

Acts of Devotion

Clean up local cemeteries (don’t try to clean graves unless you have the correct supplies and have been given permission to do so)

Leave flowers on old graves of strangers.

Volunteer or donate to local dog shelters.

Research him

Get involved with spirit work

Volunteer at or donate to orphanages, as he is the patron of lost souls and orphans

Get into herbology; his priests were skilled herbal healers and dealt with many herbs during the mummification process

Practice divination; in the Papyri, Anubis is noted to be an intermediary for divination.

As always this is not an end-all-be-all list. If you have different correspondences or devotional acts in mind then that’s totally fine!

References and Further Reading

Offerings to Anubis - Patheos

Anubis - Egyptian Museum

Anubis - World History

Anubis - Britannica

Anubis - Ancient Egypt Online

Death Dogs - Jackal Gods of Egypt

Devotees and Followers to check out:

@crystalgerblin-enchantress

#Anubis #deity deep dive #deity guide #anubis deity #kemetic #witchcraft

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milknhonies · 4 months

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The Spirit of Christmas Eve

Masterlist || Chapter 1 ll Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: After an unexpected visit from your younger, overly pregnant and concerned sister- you are yet again put into a terrible mood. You receive a night visit from the ghost of your predecessor and fall into an abyss of confusion.

Pairing: Chris Evans x f!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Disrespect to Homeless People, R4pe Fantasies, Masturbation, Dark Joke about Abortion, Hinted Xenophobia, Humiliation, Ghosts, Swearing, Alcoholic Use, Drug Use, Classism.

Word Count: 5k

Author Notes: This is a parody of the classic "A Christmas Carol" story by Dickens, I hope you come to enjoy it even though the pov holds cruel, toxic and abusive traits.

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09:00am, 24th December 2023, New York City.

Oh how you hated the holidays. You hated the red and green colouring, you hated the carolling groups and bands singing every day in December leading up to the wretched twenty fifth. You hate the baby Jesus in a manager nativity set ups.

‘Jesus wasn’t even fucking born on Christmas. He was a January baby according to Jewish scholars. It was all a ploy to satisfy and celebrate Yule with pagans before encouraging indoctrination!!’

And the smell of peppermint, gingerbread and fatty sugary foods left you feeling sickly.

“Unnecessary calories to dissolve the enamel of my teeth when it comes back up in the goddamn toilet.”

The cold air and the slippery frost brought you no delight. Along the way you would kick the snow men in your walking path. You despised the bratty children sitting on the Santa laps in the malls.

‘Their parents should know half of those fat ass Santa actors are just paedophiles getting their kicks once a year? Yea I’d love a little boy all prim and plump to sit on my lap if I was a sicko in a red suit too.’

You hated the fact they were bringing Christmas trees in the day after Halloween.

“Sure, it spins the wheel of capitalism but God, do they have to look so trashy? Christmas is once a year, not two months long.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed as you strutted the street to your work place.

Your senior associate Marlene who you could’ve considered your friend had a heart attack early that year. She was a woman in her prime, at forty years old she had managed to build her business empire. No husband, no kids, no pets. She didn’t need those things, not when she raked in over four million dollars a year. She drank and smoked like a chimney, you wondered if it contributed to her death in the end. She was rumoured to be found naked, getting fucked by some no name sexy twenty-one year old playboy from South Korea. And among her blissful orgasm, her heart just couldn’t handle the pressure and faltered.

Imagine his horror. Balls deep and not knowing she had died. Little shit tried getting her money in the inheritance scheme. He tried pushing that he was her long committed boyfriend. One threat to the immigration department sent that kid running for the kills back to Seoul.

You were named successor in her Will. Now, it’s not like you needed her millions, you already had a full pocket. At twenty five you’d made your first million all because you picked the right pattern in your investments and put every cent into them. You worked instead of partied. And many had said behind your back that it made you a miserable sourpuss bitch with no friends. You didn’t need friends. Marlene was just a funny coincidence.

Some might have called you careless, impulsive, and greedy. But what that translates to you was the word ‘Wealth and Success’. You were wealthy and money made you happy. The more numbers, the more joy in your cold heart.

You entered the building that was now yours. Oh did I forget to remind you...you were the CEO of your tax collecting firm. I think that’s important for you to know.

Entering the sleek grey, white and black minimalist foyer you sighed in relief. No Christmas or holiday bullshit in here. You had banned all decorations and affiliations.

And you refused paid leave to anyone asking not to work on Christmas day. You remember scoffing last night at the amount of requests you had received about time off for the holidays.

‘I’m running a business, not a charity.’

Christmas was the best time of year for your job. So many stupid people take out stupid loans they can’t afford especially during the holidays period when gift giving is the centre cause of financial stress. You got a thrill out of denying loans and upping payment interest rates for those suckers who didn’t make their payments on time because they chose to spend the money meant to be going into your pocket on some disposable wrapping paper and a cheap pharmacy gift last minute.

As you stepped into the elevator you smiled cynically at the empty space. You could look at yourself in the mirror and pick apart all the things you loved and hated about your body. It was strangely therapeutic. Something about the critiques gave you a massive high.

But just as the elevator doors where closing a hand slammed hard through the gap.

“Wait!” came a familiar cry. Your face fell and you felt a tight discomfort seeing the face of your younger sister. Caroline.

Your eyes shot down to her belly. Big as a house in the ugliest knit Christmas sweater.

‘Pregnant again. Jesus Christ. What’s this? Number four now?’

You clenched your handbag tighter. You tried recalling some sort of baby shower invite from months ago, you totally forgot about it once you moved it to junk mail.

‘If she fucking asks me for money again, I swear to god she’s risking an abortion voucher in a Christmas card...are abortion vouchers even a thing?’

Caroline had married her highschool sweetheart, he was some sort of mechanic or something. A bum, like your Dad. You couldn’t believe she was dumb enough to breed with an imbecile like him. Mind you, her first son was clearly an teen pregnancy accident that sealed them together. And every year, she just seemed to pop out a new one. And every year that meant you gave her a fat cheque, usually six thousand dollars.

You ground your teeth as she forced herself inside and pressed the button of the doors shut immediately, not at all taking notice of you until mid way moving up in the building.

Her face lit up and she shrieked in delight at seeing you. You strained a smile.

‘Yea, definitely looking for a handout.’

“Oh my god! I was about to fight security to come see you sissy!” she forced her arms around you. You bit your tongue. You hated hugs.

“Well…lovely seeing you too,” you muttered before awkwardly patting her back.

Her breath hitched at seeing the look on your face, “Sorry about not pre-warning, I did try calling you but your phone keeps going to voicemail.”

‘Oh good, she still hasn’t figured out I let them ring out.’

“And you didn’t reply to my emails.”

You fought a smirk, ‘because they go straight to junk mail’.

She smiled and babbled happily, “Anyway, I had to come here because I need to give you-“ she huffed and swiped a bead of sweat from her forehead before reaching into her nappy bag (that she treated like a handbag.) and retrieved a thick red envelope.

She handed it to you. Your manicured nails pinched the ugly stickers one of your nephews or nieces had chosen. Scribbled in absolute chicken scrap handwriting was your name, most likely also done by your nephew or nieces.

The elevator opened and you sighed, marching out to enter the offices with your solo office space down the hall with the largest window and finest view of the city below. You didn’t expect your sister to tail you. She waddled like a fast duck following you.

“I was thinking you should meet this guy that babysits-” She was talking to you about something but in all honesty, you weren’t listening until she mentioned the cursed words, “-Christmas Party.”

You deposited your handbag on your desk and spun on your heel. Your eyes wide, your smile straining into a sneer.

You snickered cruelly and laced your fingers together, “How many times have we discussed this? I. Don’t. Celebrate. Christmas. I don’t do presents, I don’t do carolling, I don’t do secret Santa’s and I sure as fucking hell don’t do Christmas Parties. I’m glad that you and Tim have fun with your kids and do all that meaningless stuff to shield them from the big bad world. I however am not in the mood for it. Work comes first. This is one of the busiest years of my life, the market is at an all time high in interests rates.”

She looked like she was growing smaller with every foul word that dripped like acid rain.

“It’s just one day, not even a full day. Just a few hours, not far from you,” she whispered and rubbed her belly comfortingly.

You shook your head and circled around your desk, “Might as well get this over with, you don’t need to ploy me with booze.”

You pulled out a cheque book from your drawer and slapped it down. You bent over and fished out a pen, pressing the ink to the slim piece of paper.

Your voice came out like a bark, “How much are you wanting this year?”

“Wh-what?” your sisters eyes grew wide.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, with a condescending tone, “How much money do you want to cover all the gifts? I hear Disneyland is great this time of year in Florida. I need a number. I have a busy day ahead of me so I’d just like to get this over and done with.”

Your sister didn’t answer. You glanced up. Her face was no longer smiling. She looked in pain. Her hand sat on top of her belly. She hissed and breathed out hard.

Her eyes were dimming down. She lost the joyful spark. She waddled to the guest chair in front of your desk and sat down.

She put the nappy bag on the floor.

‘great, thanks for the smell of cornflakes and breast milk on the carpet.’

Her breath turned husky and you started to reach for your desk phone ready to call a bloody ambulance to take her to the hospital. You couldn’t tell what the hell was wrong with her and prayed she wasn’t going into labour. You didn’t need to waste five thousand dollars on a carpet replacement because her waters might break.

Her eyes glared up at you as she tried to focus on pacing her breath. God, she looked like your mother with that look. It hurt. She got the best genes you had to admit. Even while pregnant she had this way about her that made men just want to beg for her number. You couldn’t tell if it was her ditsy personality or just good looks.

“Jim," Caroline corrected with strain, "-and I don’t need your money. We don’t want it. We have never have wanted it. This year, I just want you to put in the effort to spend Christmas with us as a family. You and I haven’t shared a Christmas since I was in middle school. My kids want their aunty to visit because I tell them you’re the coolest person alive...” her eyes narrowed, “Put the fucking cheque book away, and come to fucking Christmas dinner at least. It’s going to be at my house if you look at the invite that your nephew and nieces made special for you. They don’t want presents, they just want to see their aunty. Besides.... I told them you’d come if they put extra love into it.”

You chewed your inner cheek and stood up straight, crossing your arms and sat on the edge of your desk.

“You shouldn’t lie to your kids, Caroline,” you coolly said with icy impact.

You watched her eyes start to shine and water.

“Jesus,” you muttered, “Don’t fucking cry.”

She broke down immediately. You sighed with annoyance. ‘why did she have to come today of all days and act like this. It’s not a big deal. God.’

“You’re such a bitch and my kids have done nothing to you except love you unconditionally. The least you can do is show up,” Caroline struggled to stand out of the chair and when you reached out to help, she snapped like a firecracker and hissed, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

She groaned as she bent down, holding her belly and reached for her nappy bag, that she let you help her with. She suddenly looked so tired and deflated compared to when she had ducked into the elevator. You started to feel a tick of that itchy sympathy. Pregnancy always looked hard. Her first birth was so difficult, the second slipped right out but she didn’t have an epidural and the third time was an emergency c-section. In fact you weren’t even sure if she was meant to be having this fourth baby. It would be too risky. She could honestly kill herself. Now that was a bolt of fear that coursed through you.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” you sniffled, trying to distract your little sister from her anger.

She looked even more offended and scoffed, “You know, if you had even tried to come to my baby shower, you could’ve eaten one of the gender reveal cupcakes.”

‘Ouch.’

You looked down at your Valentino pumps. Seven years younger than you and she still managed to put you in your place with the snap of her fingers.

She rubbed her wet eyes with the tips of her fingers.

“I worry about you...” she mumbled, “You might have a lot of money Y/N, but money can’t buy you everything. Don’t you want to share memories?”

You tried hiding the laugh limbing your throat,, “Not this argument again...come on, I’ll walk you out and hire you a cab.”

You escorted her back to the elevator, all your employees watching and whispering about it. You knew your office needed thicker glass.

As you quietly pressed the button down, your sister finally said, “It’s twins. A boy and girl.”

You didn’t say anything for a while. Eventually you only nodded and whispered, “Congratulations. You and Tim must be excited.”

“Jim," she grounded, "-and I are flat out on our feet with the others but yea...I’m thinking about naming the girl after mom.”

Again you didn’t respond. You wanted this interaction to be finished. You wanted to go to work and drink away the days leading up to New Year’s. Maybe you should take a trip overseas. You might run into a handsome one night stand with an attractive accent.

Your sister turned and hugged you again, she rubbed her sweet face into your shoulder and sighed, “I’m sorry for snapping. Please don’t be mad. Please promise me you’ll come to the party, even for five minutes.”

Her pleading eyes finally cracked your ice wall.

“Fine. Five minutes.”

The squealing giggle of delight made you groan internationally instantly regretting your words. Nonetheless you took it upon yourself to at least hug her back. God help you, you didn’t know how you’d survive.

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10:00pm, 24th December 2023, New York City.

On your way home you discovered with aggravation all the cabs and ubers nearby had been booked up and the traffic in the city horrendous. Of course. On Christmas eve it would look like this. You decided to march your way to the subway. It would be the quickest way back home.

You had to cross the park to get there though.

And among your walking you passed a man laying down on a bench. He wore a baseball cap that hid his face. He wore a blanket over his shoulders. A puff of cold air escaped his pink lips.

His shadowed face peered up at you and held up a piece of cardboard that read the following: Homeless, please donate a food and blankets.

And something inside you cracked again. You fought the urge to pull out your purse and give him the only hundred dollar bill you had. You looked him up and down. And froze. Next to him was a bottle of liquor. Something malicious dripped from your lips. Words filled with cruelty and hate. It was bold and dangerous. But you bet he was drunk.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t there any shelters taking in scum? Are all the prisons full? Maybe if you got off your ass and got a real fucking job, you would be too busy making money instead of swilling down booze!”

He did not react in the way you expected. He smiled at an ankle, winked and held a finger up to his lips.

Your face curdled in disgust and hacked back your throat, spitting on him.

“Booze bum,” you muttered, and marched on, away from him.

Your chin jerked high. It was a method of teaching you had learnt in your youth. Shame someone until they commit to a goal and out perform it. To this day you are still doing that very thing, why not share that gift of knowledge with others?

You scowled the entire train ride home and flicked through your emails.

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11:10pm, 24th December 2023, New York City.

Alone in your penthouse apartment, you padded your way to bed scrolling through your phone. In your hand you cradled a wine glass and set it on the bedside table.

Beneath the soft cotton covers you sighed happily and used your phone to command the fireplace to be lit up. A fake flame on a flat screen tv with heaters all around you, filling your place with warmth. Laying back into your pillows you scrolled your phone and frowned at all the Christmas themed posts online, all the tutorials and recipes you’d never follow and all the Christmas stories you’d never read.

Tossing the phone beside your wine glass, your hands snuck down into a drawer and retrieved your absolute best friend in the world. She was thick, long and quiet, totally sky blue and had twenty different settings. You slid the vibrator under the covers and shimmied out of your underwear. Your fingers fumbled, touching your wet cunt.

The alcohol was finally hitting you, warming you up. You weakly reached for your vibrator. You knew it would be a comfort to take away the anger and stress away from your day at work.

You pressed the silicone to your clit and switched on the toy. A soft sigh came from you as you rubbed it along your lower lips. You fluttered your eyes shut and tried to imagine a person and you having sex.

‘A policeman? No. College professor? No. Loser doorman? No…’ and then your eyes flickered in a quick vision of the homeless man from the park… ‘Yes. He must be miserable, pissed off, angry, he smiled but that would have been a lie, his long finger he held to his mouth should stuff itself inside me.’

Your hand slid up and pulled down the front of your night down. You dug your nails into your breast before tugging your nipple hard. You whined as you bucked your hips into your toy that you playfully prodded and tore out of you. You imagined that same stranger ripping your dress from your body and dragging you into the snowy woods.

Rape fantasies weren’t uncommon for you. It was something about the power struggle that sent thrills up and down your spine. You liked the pain. You liked being forced to give up your control. You slid the plastic cock deep into your slick pussy and mewled.

The homeless man would hold a knife to your throat and bend you over a log, no, no, that bench, so out and open and public for anyone to catch him tearing you apart. His hand would lick your skin in stinging slaps. The alcohol on his breath would be putrid. He’d call you names, whore, slut, bitch, cunt, fuckpig. And you would be totally helpless…

You lazily rolled over onto your belly and forced your ass up, your bed sheets falling down your thighs.

You pushed the dildo back in deep and turned on the highest setting, biting the pillow under you. You fucked yourself hard until it hurt.

The homeless man fantasy went on and on, forcing you to cum and cry. You didn’t care if neighbours or tenants below you heard. You imagined this terrible man after fucking you raw making you sit in his filthy lap, fucking you with the empty liquor bottle neck and letting strangers walking past the chance to spit on you and slap you until you cummed.

The fantasy didn’t have a fanciful ending fleshed out. You could only imagine him dragging you back to some ghetto homeless tent village under one of the city bridges and whoring your cunt out to his homeless buddies. You wanted to submit, to be used like that…

But not in the real world. Fuck no. Your reputation mattered greatly. You were too stubborn to willingly date a man and ask him to do something taboo like consensual non-consent play.

You tore the blue cock out and pressed it to your clit, riding out an ultimate orgasm that left your body feeling like jelly. Slumping forward you groaned into the pillows, you knew you had to eventually get up and pee. The alcohol still in your system made the journey feel almost impossible. But when your bare ass hit the seat, you leant back and sighed. 'UTI prevented!'

Getting back to bed wasn’t as hard as getting to the bathroom. You breathed in the smell of your own sexual prowess. No shame. You put away your toy and before you could search for your discarded underwear, you heard your phone pinged. You grunted with annoyance.

You glanced at the screen; it was a text from Caroline.

*Told the kids you are coming tomorrow! They’re so excited to see their aunty! Xoxo*

‘oh right…her Christmas party…it’s tomorrow…' you still hadn’t even looked at the invitation. Anger started burning its way into your chest when you saw the emojis and gifs she attached. Santa and reindeers and snowmen. God you fucking hated Christmas!! She didn’t need to remind you. You didn’t plan to be there longer than the strick three hundred seconds. The miserable evil stabbed your heart again.

It out you so over the edge you began to type, *Tell them I changed my mind, I’m busy.*

Before your thumb could slam on the message send, something strange occurred. The penthouse apartment lights started to flicker on and off repeatedly.

‘A circuit must’ve snapped. I know I turned off all the lights.’

You slammed your phone down and ripped off your bed sheets. Marching over to the telecom beside you door you prepared the mental speech of anger and abuse you’d deliver on whatever poor soul was handling the front desk of the apartment complex tonight.

You pressed the button hard and when no welcoming comment came you decided to wait.

You waited and waited and still no one acknowledged you over the telecom. There was a noise coming from it though. It was a sound of ragged breathing. Squinting with absolute judgement you hissed into the microphone.

You sobered up your voice and rubbed your eyes. Your wine was knocking around your insides at that point, it had polluted your blood. You just needed to stay awake for a little longer.

“This is penthouse three. Your lights are dimming and flickering out. I want someone to change all that bulbs and check the power wires immediately. Do I make myself clear?”

The unusual panting was still there and getting louder. You shook your head. Someone should’ve been repeating back your request and discussing a mode of action.

“Hello?” you angrily huffed into the microphone when no answer came for a long time.

You hissed, “Now you listen here. I don’t give a fuck it’s Christmas eve. You’re job is on the line if you cant fix my fucking lights.”

And then the line went totally dead and your apartment was entirely darkened. You groaned with anguish. Using your phone flash light you returned to your room.

“Fine,” you grumbled as you pulled the covers Of your bed back again, “Probably too drunk on eggnog to give a damn. Say goodbye to those two dollar tips dickhead.”

You laid back and fished out your bonnet, carefully lipping your hair inside the protective layer. You rolled onto your side under the covers and shut your eyes.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

12:00am, 25th December 2023, New York City.

For some reason at 12am you received a very obnoxiously loud phone call. Blindly you reached for it and accepted the call. You had a suspicion it was a prank call from overseas.

“Y/N,” said the caller. Your eyes cleared up fast at the sound of a voice you knew too well.

You almost dropped your phone. Surely it wasn’t her calling. You had seen her body at her funeral. She chuckled on the other side, her voice was just as rusted as you remembered. In the dream she had come over to your house and had a sleep over together.

Your eyes widened, “Wh-who is this?” you asked, “Do you fucking know what time it is?”

The identical voice of your passed companion echoed back, “In life you knew me as Marlene Jeong.”

You hung up the phone fast and sat up straight. Her hands trembled and the phone screamingly made another phone call from the same unknown number.

You answered it and heard her shriek, “Don’t you know hanging up like that is rude.”

You took a deep breath in. And shut your eyes. No. It couldn’t be.

“This prank isnt funny,” you barked into the receiver.

“Well I’d hope not. You know I wasn’t a fan of funny,” she grumbled back.

You picked up the phone and huffed, “If you’re really Marlene...tell me something only I would know...”

The phone went quiet and clicked off. You smirked, 'Yea, that's what I thought you sick fuck.'

The air around you grew colder. With the power out you accepted that the central heating was out too. Getting out of bed you stumbled down the hall to the linen cupboard and pulled out a few more thicker blankets. When you returned back to your room you screamed and jumped ten feet in the air, dropping the load of blankets.

Marlene was sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone. She was not herself and yet was at the same time. She looked the same except for the fact her entire body was a light blue and translucent. She was naked. And you could see her translucent organs. In her hand was a false spiritual cigarette. Smoking rising from the tip and faded into the darkness. And don’t let me forget a important detail. She was floating and parts of her body wrapped in chains.

Hearing you, she turned her face away from your phone and winked. You slammed back into a wall, trying to get away from her as she floated closer to you. She took a mean drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke into your fear filled face. You could’ve fainted. The smoke didn’t smell like anything and was rather a cold breeze to your cheek.

You flinched and whimpered, “Marlene...what the fuck.”

She smirked and rolled mid air upside down,

“Long time no see. Or well...you can’t see me but I see you basically every day,” she cackled.

Your lips fell apart, “Wha-how- why...why are you hear? Should you be dead?”

She flicked the cigarette of ash that turned into blue light specs and disappeared before touching the floor.

“Oh trust dear, I’m dead, dead as a doornail. Little Kyong gave me a killer orgasm, literally,” she took another long drag, “I had no clue what was coming and poof! I’m on the floor choking and groaning and next thing I wake up to, is you moving your shit into my office and my penthouse. But I digress sweet snake...I’m not here on a social call...I’m here to send you a warning.”

Your head felt dizzy, “A warning? The fuck? Am I going to die soon or something?” you wrapped your arms around yourself.

She smiled and shook her head, “Oh no...no, no....something a tad more painful. See, I have been sent to play 'angel Gabriel' so to speak and inform you of a supernatural message.”

She floated around, chains at her wrist dragged behind her as she did. Marlene sharpened her gaze at you.

‘Woah did I take one too many Percocet with my wine...I must be high.’

“You are saveable unlike my dead cold self,” she said flying back to your bed and lewdly laying down, “My dead frozen heart could not thaw,” she sighed and tapped her chest.

You could see inside her at the organ most resembling heart was literally made of icy and was not beating. It was disturbing.

“I’m destined to float while tethered to the world unseen, unheard, unloved…forgotten. But you? You still have a chance to atone. A spirit shall arrive and come to you in three shades…Christmas past, present and future. It shall greet you hourly between one and three o’clock.”

You timidly stepped closer.

“You need to open your mind and open your heart or else-“ she floated above you and groaned, “This will be your future fate.”

You rubbed your eyes and slapped your cheek. Marlene’s ghost was still there. She held up her wrist, showing off the manacle around it, “This is a fate no one wishes, trust me on that.”

Her face leant in closer to your face. Her hair floated around her like water tendrils.

She rattled the chains together, clinking them and explained, “The spirit will test you. And they will test you fairly. They will decide what to do with you after. They call themselves, Christmas past, present and future.”

When she had said these words, Marlenes ghost faded away, disappearing into the cold, quiet night. It took you a few minutes to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe or make sense of it and no matter how many times you pinched of slapped yourself, you found yourself still in the unexplainable dream. You tossed the blankets from the floor onto the bed. You had another drink of wine before you chose to return to bed. You tugged the warmest and softest blanket up to your chin. You were scared and confused. Your eyes grew heavier as you forced yourself to forget and ignore the apparition of Marlene chained nude and talking in riddles.

You laid your cheek into the pillow and fell into a deep slumber.

HELPINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline services

India Helpline Services

#chris evans x female reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans #dark!chris evans #tsoc

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thepaintedlady00 · 9 months

Text

Burden

Chapter 14 |

Chapter 15: Forget Me Not

TW: some awkwardness, confusing visions, Daniel makes an appearance, mentions of major character death and spoilers for the comics, a bit of Dark!Munin, The Fates, some intense memories and mentions of violence, pain, and allusions to assault, a bit of trickster god energy (I'm not super familiar with Puck and Loki from the comics, so please don't crucify me if they're not great!), threats, some cryptic shit from Destiny, a pretty big revelation, and finally, some soft fluffy goodness to give our story a happy end before the rewrite.

I really struggled with this last chapter! �� I think because I already know I'm going to rewrite it the words just didn't wanna cooperate with me and I'm overall not super thrilled with how it came out. I do really hope y'all still enjoy it and are looking forward to getting the rewrite whenever I have the time to get that going. Thank you all so much for your love, support and patience with this series!

Awkward felt like an inadequate word to describe the stiff silence that now consumed Hector's home. You quietly took a sip of your drink, eyes darting back and forth between the two men as they stared one another down across the living room. You’d quietly hoped that the two would use this time to let go of the strenuous circumstances they’d previously met under.

Hector finally leaned back and spoke, “Make any pregnant women cry today?”

Or not…

Dream’s face tensed slightly, but his voice was steady as he replied, “No.”

“You could’ve given us a minute to say a proper goodbye, you know,” Hector insisted with a sneer. “She had to go through so much all alone… we didn’t even get a chance to talk about baby names. I don’t… I don’t even know how they’re doing.”

This made Morpheus soften, and for a moment, you wondered if he was thinking about his own son, that had been long lost to him. “Daniel. Your son's name is Daniel, and he is doing well. I’ve had my raven check in with them on occasion.”

Your friend smiled and looked out toward the trees. “Daniel. What about Lyta?”

“She’s been more…” Morpheus chose his word carefully. “Restless as of late. A just reaction, I suppose, after learning all she has.”

“Couldn’t you help her with that?” Hector asked. “Isn’t that your job or something?”

“I could, but she does not wish for my help.”

“Sounds like her,” his smile was soft and sad but filled with a restfulness you’d not seen in him for a long while. “Lyta was always the stubborn one between us.”

Morpheus glanced at you, an invisible smirk plain to your eyes. “A struggle I understand too well, spirit.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me stubborn?”

“I said no such thing,” he insisted with a wicked gleam in his eyes that answered the question for him.

Turning your head away, you smiled at Hector. “Apologies for bringing up such painful memories. It was not my intent, my friend.”

He shook his head and waved your concern away. “It wasn’t so bad.”

Morpheus allowed the man to show him the home he’d built, taking in details he’d missed the first time in his haste, and, you thought, the two seemed less at odds with one another by the time you departed. Your beloved remained as long as he could, spending time with you to tell the children stories while you held Sirius and got lost in the sound of his silken voice. A loud screech and a string of curses echoed from the wood, bringing you and the Dream Lord to your feet, shielding as many ears as you could reach from the vile things being shouted.

The Corinthian stumbled out of the woods with Kat hot on his heels, talons bared and clawing at him with every swoop. Her feathers were ruffled, and the noises she made were ones you’d never heard before. “Kat!”

She heeded your voice, halting her attack on the nightmare to settle on a branch beside you. The Corinthian shook his clothes off, looking at the deep tear in his suit. “Your beast owes me a new suit!”

Kat’s eyes burned. “The only thing I owe you is a slow and painful death, nightmare.”

“What is the meaning of this?” You demanded as Morpheus distracted the children.

“Is this not the nightmare that betrayed you, my lady?”

“It is,” you answered honestly. “But he has been remade now. He will not hurt me again.”

“Once is more than enough,” She bit back. “This was something you knew once.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you tilted your head at her words. “What do you mean by this?”

Kat shook out her feathers. “Nothing, my lady. If you say the nightmare means no harm, then I shall trust you.”

“Thank you, Kat,” you answered, her words still rattling around your mind, but the golden owl took to the skies before you could question her further.

The Corinthian bared his teeth at the shredded suit jacket. “Daunty, love the new realm and all, but you gotta get a tighter handle on your greeters.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head at him. “Relax. I’m sure your maker would happily repair your suit if you asked nicely.”

He scoffed. “I’d rather live with the tears.”

“Stubborn.”

“Always,” he replied with a grin. “So, you gonna give me the tour, or are you too busy for little nightmares now?”

Linking your arm with his, you smiled at Morpheus, who continued telling the children stories beside the fountain. “I always have time for you, dear Corinthian.”

It had been a few days since you’d spoken with Hector, but the sad look in his eyes when he’d mentioned not being able to see his son had stuck with you. You approached the young tree with a gentle touch and kind gaze upon the face carved into the trunk. Hector's son was still quite young, and his tree of memory reflected such. It was smaller than his mother's that stood beside it, but the roots were strong and ran far deeper than any mortal. Daniel, you quickly realized, was special. Different. Like you.

The face seemed to stare back at you, white leaves peeking out from beneath the lush green canopy. You approached slower, urging the roots to lift and open the young one's mind to you. His memories would be few, but there was no doubt much you could learn within them. Veins of white stood out in the darkness. Some roots, the ones that borrowed deeper, were pale and sung with power and immortality. The song of The Endless. But, the tune wasn't Dreams, or Deaths, or Desires. It was its own song, still unfinished.

You walked through the light, lush still forming along the walls of his memory, focusing on the memories he found joyful. You intended to share them with Hector, a gift to show your gratitude for his hard work and kindness. That, however, was not where the tree led you.

Stumbling into the blinking light, you found yourself kneeling in deep sand. Sand scratched your palms, sticking to you like sap, just as it had the first time. Except now that sand, once a deep void of black, was white. It sparked like tiny perfect crystals in your palms as you stood and looked out at the miles of glistening sand and bright cerulean waves.

You knew this beach better than any save its creator. You knew the placement of each stone and the feeling of the sand as it molded to your steps. This place felt different… All at once, the beach you knew and not. It was old and new and entirely confusing.

The fragile ground beneath your feet seemed to remember you as you walked toward where the Gates of Horn and Ivory should have been. The sand didn't swallow your feet or try to slow your steps. It felt as though you were walking on nothing at all. Before your eyes, the entrance stood, an entrance that was not the gates you knew at all.

Glossy white marble caught the light and cast an ethereal glow all around you. An aura of both light and color, beautiful and bright. The gates stood open, revealing a sight you'd grown to know well. "The Dreaming."

As you passed through, you admired the fine craftsmanship of the carvings in the marble gates. A story familiar and also not… Something that had not yet been told. Familiar things were more abundant here as you walked through the town and admired the dreamers. Dreams and Nightmares, old and new, greeted you like a friend and wished you good fortune as you made your way to the palace.

The regal and beautiful palace of The Dream Lord was quite similar to the one you’d known. Only some small changes in the stone and the statues caught your eyes, but as the doors opened to the throne room, a wave of unfamiliarity washed over you at the sight. The white marble of Dream’s palace was pristine in every sense of the word, reflecting the array of light and color that swirled around the room, drawing your gaze to the tiny crystals that hung in the air like drops of frozen rain. It was beautiful, marvelous, but not what you knew to be.

The stairway leading to the throne was wrong as well, far more winding and long, a path of almost transparent crystal. The stained glass windows above the throne shifted to reflect you, a perfect vision of white mist and black dogs and golden leaves. It was as if The Dreaming was trying to welcome you… trying to lull you into a feeling of peace or comfort at all that was not as it should be. And there, in the place of the throne, you knew Morpheus to have was something entirely not his. It looked far more organic, like a split geode holding an uncontainable cosmos of stars and cosmic clouds inside it. And sitting on that throne was a being that was not Dream of The Endless. Not your Dream.

The pale being lifted his head, and not a single strand of his cloudy white hair strayed. His black eyes consumed you entirely, two small slivers of starlight shining brighter as they looked upon you. The robes he wore were white, adorned with golden designs, and there, sitting proudly upon his chest, was a glowing emerald dreamstone.

“It is a great honor to meet you at last, Munin of the Emerald Wood.” His voice was silken and light, Dream’s but not his.

“You are not my Dream… are you?” You asked with tears building in your eyes.

With a soft sigh, he rose from his throne slowly, almost as if he thought doing so any faster would scare you. “No, I suppose I am not.”

You didn’t dare look away from him as you asked, “Then who are you?”

“The name you would likely know me by is Daniel. Daniel Hall.”

Lies. “Daniel Hall is little more than a child. You could not possibly be him.”

“Not as you know him to be,” he said, slowly descending the winding staircase. “But, as you’ve already noticed, none of this is as it was. A future carved in stone, written in Destiny’s book of things, a future only you can stop.”

“Future?” You questioned, looking around at The Dreaming. “You mean to tell me I’ve stumbled into the future?”

“No,” Daniel replied with a light chuckle. “More of a vision.”

You watched him carefully as he stood before you, hands clasped and a soft, childlike smile on his lips. “So this is what is to come then? You mean to steal this realm from Morpheus?”

His brows furrowed. “I’ve stolen nothing. The Dreaming and the title Dream of the Endless was given to me by he who came before.”

“Morpheus would never just give his realm or his title away,” you insisted. “Unless…”

“He did all he could to stop it, but The Kindly Ones were relentless in their attack. His sacrifice saved The Dreaming and those that remained.” Daniel could see the pain in you, and with a sigh, he added. “He did not suffer. Death greeted him and showed him the way. He was at peace in the end.”

You shook your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. “And what of me? I did nothing while he perished?”

“There were… things complicating your involvement.” He shook his head. “It matters not. You are here now.”

“You’ve been expecting me?”

He smiled, chuckling softly. “No, more… hoping you would find a way here so we could speak.”

“Speak of what?”

"If the love you bare him is even a fraction of the love that lingers in me still…" he lifted a hand to your cheek. "Love he bore for you. Then you'll save him. You’ll ensure this future never has to be.”

With narrow eyes, you asked, “You would give up his power… his title, and his kingdom?”

Daniel nodded. “All I ever wished for was a normal life with my mother. Plots larger than me… Larger than him made that impossible. But you, you could change it.”

“How?”

“Seek out Loki and Puck. The end of your Dream Lord began with their plot and… my mother’s misguided actions.”

Loki and Puck - two tricksters that you’d only met in passing. Gods that were notoriously difficult to track down. “And how do you suggest I find them? They’re not known for making such easy.”

“Visit my mother,” he urged. “And myself, I suppose…” he chuckled again. “The two should be close by.”

You paused, listening to the faint sounds of The Forest calling you home. “What happens if I fail?”

Daniel only smiled, reaching out to lift your hand to his lips. “Then I hope this is not the last time we meet, Lady Munin. And that the next is under better circumstances.”

Lyta Hall lived in a modest apartment in a bustling city. Though you’d ventured into the mortal world before, it looked vastly different from what little you could remember. She was surrounded by those she loved, Rose Walker and Ged, and many familiar faces - faces you knew from memories alone. And while the apartment wasn’t large or lavish, she appeared to be happy aside from the large bags that hung beneath her eyes, telling you she’d not found any peace in her dreams.

For a while, you simply watched them, searching for some sigh of Loki and Puck’s coming mischief, but the longer you looked in, the more you felt compelled to venture closer. You wanted to speak with her, to reassure her that her husband was safe and loved. And so you found yourself in her apartment, standing in the kitchen and admiring the little notes, photographs, and memories each held. Lost in your own examining, you barely heard the sharp gasp and the sound of wood scraping against the floor as Lyta hurriedly rose from the table at the sight of you.

Suddenly you were reminded that it was not normal for people to appear in mortal homes simply, and you bashfully bowed your head to her. “Apologies. I did not mean to startle you.”

“Who are you?” She demanded, forcing her voice to sound firm and dangerous.

“We have met before,” you answered softly. “In a dream.”

Her face softened slightly. “You… you’re the one that took Hector.”

Nodding, you answered the question she had not asked. “He is safe. He misses you,” your eyes drifted to the small child in his high chair. “Both of you.”

“What do you want?” She demanded, wiping her eyes.

“I simply wanted to apologize for my coldness that day. I was… I was not myself.” You sighed. “Were it within my power, I would have let him remain with you.”

“But it isn’t,” she answered bitterly. “It’s his power, isn’t it?”

You realized Morpheus was the he that she spoke so sourly of. “It was out of his power as well. The Dream Lord means you no harm, Lyta. This is why you’ve not slept, isn’t it?”

Lyta looked at Daniel and shook her head. “I don’t want him to come for my son… not while I’m under some spell and can’t defend him.”

“Dream of the Endless would not steal your son,” you said gently. “He means neither of you harm.”

“You don’t know that,” she replied bitterly.

“I do,” you assured her. As you watched her move to the child's side, you felt an odd power humming around her. The song of the Endless echoed from the boy, swirling around her, but beneath his song was power. A power that you knew. Lyta and Daniel froze, time halting as mist rolled in from unseen places, and their power engulfed the apartment.

"You are meddling in dangerous things, lost one." Their combined voices sent a chill up your spine, but not one of fear or anger… A feeling of familiarity.

The Mother tutted softly as she moved around the frozen figure of Lyta Hall. "Fate is not something easily changed, dear sun."

The Crone lifted her head, glaring at the babe in Lyta's arms. "And this fate is one you should not even attempt to alter."

"I won't let you do it," your voice was cold as mist rushed beneath your feet. The Forest bled into this illusion they thrust you in, dark, twisted trees casting long shadows over the three. Black engulfed your fingertips, and you could feel the darkness, the daunting power of it bending to your will. "Morpheus is mine. And none shall have him while I draw breath."

The Maiden tilted her head, eyes shining back at you in admiration. "You always were so determined."

"So headstrong and unafraid," The Mother continued, her eyes bearing a deep sorrow that surprised you.

"It is what led you to your doom the first time." Though The Crone's eyes were stiff, guarded, and unwilling to bend beneath your steady gaze, her voice trembled, lips quivering as she uttered a single word. "Mneme."

All at once the darkness vanished. You felt your power stripped away, leaving you trembling and bare before The Fates. Breathlessly you fell to your knees. Sparks of golden light and a searing, unbearable pain engulfed you until all you could do was scream.

Not a word. Flashes filled your vision, swarming like molten gold in water. A name. Fire blazed, and a burst of sickening laughter echoed in your mind. Your name.

Their hands offered you some comfort, albeit temporary. The Mother smoothed your hair back. "Do not fight it."

The Maiden stroked your cheeks. "Let it come."

The Crone looked down at you with tears in her eyes. Her palm pressed to your forehead. "Remember."

The first thing you saw once the blinking light faded from your vision was the orange hues of the sun setting over the ocean. You sat upon the edge of the cliffside, wind combing through your golden locks of hair, and a peaceful feeling settled in your chest. You were home.

"Mneme!" The Fates’ voices called out as one.

Turning your head, you smiled at them. "Not too close to the edge, I know!"

The Maiden offered you a smile back. "The fall would be terrible indeed, even for one such as you."

The Mother waved, gesturing to you to come to them. "Come down from there, sweet child!"

The Crone rolled her ancient eyes and scoffed. "She won't fall! Our Mneme is far too surefooted to do something as foolish as that."

"Accidents still happen, sister self." The Mother reminded.

You squeezed her hand. "I'll be more careful."

"More careful!" The Crone laughed. "She's been careful since the day she was born, I doubt she's capable or more."

The Maiden lovingly braided a strand of your hair. "There's no harm in having fun every now and then."

The sky above had begun to shift to the deep star-filled night, your favorite. "I have to go."

"Back to that tree of yours?" The Crone asked.

"Back to the humans?" The Mother's question was far more bitter.

You kissed all their cheeks. "I'll be home before the sun rises!"

More light flashed, more voices echoed in your mind as your body felt like it would burst apart. You saw it through the slightly golden haze. The Great Tree standing tall amidst a bustling village. Its trunk was a rich reddish brown with golden leaves glistening in the low light of the fires the humans had lit to illuminate their festivities.

In the blink of an eye, you were in the tall branches, looking down at the bodies that moved below, watching the humans with wonder. You and the tree had been linked from the moment of your birth. A tree with roots that spanned across realms and lifetimes and a little spirit born of fate and memory.

A rather simple pair when compared to the billions of other supernatural and immortal beings and creatures that existed. But, you were fine with simple. You enjoyed your time spent on Mount Helicon and watching the humans, quietly gifting them with long memories and thus making their marvelous stories last forever.

It had been centuries since you'd heard the lovely tune for the first time. The first song ever made. A simple and beautiful thing that planted a seed deep inside you. A longing for something real… Tangible… Something wholly yours. You had no idea what it would be, this thing, but some nights you could hear The Fates whispering. They must've known. There was little they did not see. So, you waited, hoping that it was something marvelous.

The memories raced by, quicker and more painful than before. You could feel the raw ache in your throat, a result of your screaming, but you could only hear the voices. It was all still fragmented, flashes of a happy life with The Fates that all shifted… The sour smell of decay stung your nose. These flashes were darker, the fragments blurry and hazed.

You felt fire cracking under your skin, nails clawing at the wrong flesh that caged you. A laugh… A wide and villainous grin letting down at you. Unfamiliar hands touching you… Defiling you… The human's bright beauty slowly diminishing before your very eyes. You could taste the salt of your tears and feel the ache in your knees as you bent to the floor and begged. "Harken to me!" Your voice sounded so broken… Desperate. "Please, I beg of you! Deliver me from this place!"

The gentle hands that touched your head bore a somber tinge that answered the question you did not even ask. "Enough, dear one."

"You should rest," The Maiden said.

"You will need it for what is to come," The Crone finished.

"Help me," you begged them, lifting your drowning eyes. "There must be something you can do… Someone to intercede on my behalf."

The Crone's eyes turned cold as she sighed. "Foolish child. You are awfully bound. There are none that can deliver you from this place."

The Mother's eyes were filled with tears. "Not now, at least…"

The Maiden braided a strand of your dull hair. "Not when so much of you has been spent."

"I am so sorry, dear one…" The Mother pressed a kiss to your head. "Your prayers were wasted."

"No!" You cried out, rising to reach for them, but they were already gone. The chain binding you to this place scratched against the stone floor. "Do not leave me…"

The pieces fragmented further. Shattering like glass when you tried to hold onto them. All you could truly recall was a knife, blood, screaming, and fire. Darkness that felt warm and safer than what you'd known for so long and then breathlessness. You could see a rippling surface, bubbles floating away from you as the air abandoned you.

As you sank deeper into an unknown abyss, you could see the golden strands of your hair fade to white, and a voice echoed in your mind as all else began to fade away. "You will never be rid of me!"

"Mneme," The Maiden's voice called out to you.

"Stop," you begged, voice raw and hardly understandable. This wasn't true… This was a trick. All of it. Their hands, cradling your head, felt too heavy. "Don't call me that."

“Mneme…” The Mother cooed softly as you shook their hands off you.

“Do not call me that! I… I cannot deal with this now. I… There’s…” You wanted nothing more than to sob, to let the information you’d just regained swallow you whole.

Morpheus needed you. The events Daniel spoke of could still be years away, but you’d not risk it. Especially not now. Forcing your body upright, you looked into the eyes of The Fates. “I am going to change what is written. Morpheus will not perish, least of all at the hands of you.”

The Maiden’s tears were like diamonds upon her cheeks. “We take no pleasure in this.”

Your sound of disbelief caused The Mother to sigh, “Not much pleasure in it.”

“You cannot change this,” The Crone said, cold as ice once again. “Try as you might, what is will be and what will be is.”

“The only one you shall harm is yourself,” The Maiden replied.

"You will spend your power," The Mother warmed. "Spread yourself thin until all you are withers."

"Lost again to Lethe," The Crone finished.

“If anything happens to him… anything at all, it is you that I shall harm. Consequences be damned.”

You didn’t give them the chance to speak again, vanishing from the apartment and from their presence with a mere thought. The world felt both heavier and lighter, and with it, you felt both more powerful and less. Forcing the memories… the past from your mind, you put your plan into motion. It was just as you’d told The Fates. None would have Morpheus.

The meadow was quiet. From what you’d seen of the human world, there were few places like this that remained. Calm and untouched, reeking of old fairy magic and buzzing with godly power. Two tricksters lurking in the shadows. The combination of their power was dizzying and stunk of mischief. A warning to any that drew too near to turn back and hope you’d not caught their eye. You, however, would not be so easily deterred.

“What have we here?” An old and giggly voice purred from the shadows.

“A little witch?” Another chimed in, smug and prideful and filled with echoing laughter.

You showed no emotion as you addressed them. “I am Munin, Queen of realms of memory.”

A figure appeared a greenish beast with scales and fur and long pointed ears. Sharp teeth gleamed back at you as the deep red eyes of the spirit Puck glowed. “Queeny, Queeny, Queeny… why are you so far from your castle?”

Bright hair and an angular face examined you closely from a safe distance away as Loki grinned back. “Come to play with the old tricksters, have you?”

“More like come to talk sense into you,” you replied calmly, urging the wood around you to slowly shift.

The two laughed loudly, clutching their guts as they looked at each other. “Sense? Oh, we’ve not had sense in ages!”

“So I’ve been told. But, kidnapping a dream-touched child is a new sort of stupidity I thought even you two would be above.”

“Careful now,” Puck growled. “I’d surely hate to have to get blood all over that pretty white dress, Queeny.”

“It would be quite the shame,” you agreed. “Though the dress could be a trophy of sorts stained with your blood.”

Puck giggled, deranged and gleeful. “I like you!”

“Focus,” Loki insisted as he languidly stalked forward to circle you. “What’s this about a kidnapping?”

You followed him for a moment but chose to keep your eyes on Puck; he was the one you’d have to be most mindful of. “Your little plan to kidnap the boy… Daniel Hall.”

“How would you know about that?” Puck questioned.

“I have my ways.” That was the only answer you offered them. “The how is hardly the point. I’m far more interested in skipping it all together so we can focus on the bit where you both use your brains and forget about this half-baked scheme.”

Mist slowly began to seep between the trees, a low groan echoing in the air that signaled your plan had worked. Loki shook his head. “We aren’t exactly known for listening to threats from little girls.”

You smiled. “I’ve not even threatened you yet, Odinson.”

“Do not call me that!” He hissed, pointing a long elegant finger at you.

“I’ll call you whatever name you see fit after you’ve agreed to leave Daniel and his mother alone.”

Puck tutted, clawed nails digging into the branch he leaned on. “Greedy, greedy. You’re getting boring, Queeny! Perhaps we should just be done with you… After all, you look so tasty!”

Sirius dove out of the mist and snapped at the spirit. “Mind your tongue, beast. Though I shall gladly rid you of it should you insist.”

Loki pulled two daggers from their sheathes as The Corinthian appeared somewhere off to the side of you, calm and collected as he casually leaned against a tree. “Naughty puppy!”

Rolling your eyes, you lifted a finger, calling forth the tree roots to bind them. “Enough of this.” The trees wound around their limbs, squeezing hard enough that were they not immortal beings, their limbs would have snapped. Loki sneered while Puck laughed. “It’d be in your best interests to leave the child alone.”

“Best interests,” Puck laughed harder. “I care little for interests.”

“You may not care,” you began, eyes turning to the god. “But he does.”

Loki shook his head, chuckling at the notion that he cared about anything at all. “You think you know me, little wood witch?”

You shook your head and walked along the tree roots. “I do not care to know you, trickster. But, I see more than just your eyes…” Memories swirled inside them, good and bad, joyful and not. “We may not have met more than in passing, but make no mistake, Loki, I know you.”

Puck was the wildcard, the mischievous being that none could reason with or bribe unless he so sought, but Loki was a god. He was shrouded in golden pride and a deep-rooted desire to make Odin love him. Loki was the one you needed to convince. Puck would follow, or he would die, a choice you’d not have to spell out for him, especially with Sirius’ watchful eye and menacing teeth gnashing in the sprite's face.

“Why do you care so much for this runt?” Loki pondered with a wide grin. “Have a soft spot for dream-touched mortals?”

“Why does not concern you.” You sat down on a high-up branch and stared the god down. “No more questions, Loki. Will you leave Lyta and her son alone, or will you die here in my little woods?”

He attempted to shrug against the branches that held him. “It’s not me you need to worry about.”

Puck rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t need to fear me! This game has gotten boooorrrriiinnggg! One little mortal, dream-touched or not, isn’t worth this kind of fuss.”

Loki glared at the sprite, clearly displeased by his so-called partner in crime's words. “Fine then. We’ll leave the kid alone. Happy now?”

“Swear it.”

“I swear it,” he sneered back. “Now let me go.”

You waved your hand, and the roots released. Puck was gone in a blink, no promises made or extra words exchanged. Here then gone, just like you’d expected from the trickster. Loki remained, anger and some ugly, wounded pride shining in his eyes as he glared at you. Sirius growled. “Leave this place, trickster. And pray you never return.”

Suddenly all emotion drained from the god's face, and he laughed. “You know, I don’t much like being humiliated, especially not by insignificant little girls. Do you think you're suddenly untouchable just because you have some new realm and a bit of power? Well, you aren’t.”

Lunging for you, Loki found himself face to face with The Corinthian, who smiled as he brandished his blade. “I believe my lady released you. That means you leave.”

“I’m not scared of you, nightmare!” The god shouted.

“You should be. Hold him down for me, pup.” Sirius surprisingly heeded the nightmares command and pulled the god down while The Corinthian worked with his blade. The screams were drowned out by the trees cheering and laughing at the now mutilated god. You stood high above it all as The Corinthian finished his work and turned, presenting you with the eyes he’d plucked from Loki’s skull. Bowing his head, he chuckled. “Any other body parts I should take, my lady?”

You accepted the eyes and shook your head. “No. Kat has already sent word to Odin. Someone will be here to collect him shortly.”

The Corinthian glanced at you. “You alright, Daunty?”

Your mind was plagued with the past that you’d still not fully regained, a thing you now had broken and confusing fragments of. “Yes. There’s just something I need to do now.”

“Need a nightmare?”

Smiling at him, you shook your head and placed a loving hand on his cheek. “Not this time, dear Corinthian.”

Upon Mount Helicon, a secluded cabin stood overlooking the sea. The cabin was not what you’d pictured when you thought of The Fates. You’d imagined they’d live in some large palace or a winding maze, like Destiny, but there the three stood, looking out at the sea as you quietly approached. “Such a lovely sunset.”

The Mother smiled at you. “It used to be your favorite part of the day.”

The Maiden laughed softly. “You’d sit here until the yellow faded from the sky entirely.”

“One sun,” The Crone said. “Watching another.”

"Whatever the reason for this… Fondness, you bear me…" you stopped yourself, pain that you could not yet confront boiling within you like the fires in your vision. Shaking your head, you met their gaze again. "I urge you to cease these schemes against the Dream Lord."

The Maiden nodded, "Painful as this may be, you cannot run from the truth forever."

The Mother took a step closer with a sad smile. "Oh, dear one… Is this truly your wish?"

"It is."

The Crone stood before you, cold eyes slightly less so as she wiped your tears. "Very well. If it is your wish, we shall honor it. So long as Dream of The Endless does not bring harm upon you, then we shall not harm him or his Dreaming."

“Thank you… my mothers.”

The Three smiled sadly and watched you go. The Forest greeted you as it always had, offering you soft handing leaves to dry your eyes and a melodic rumbling to ease the ache in your heart. You did not know when you would be able to accept what you now knew fully, nor did you know if you’d ever be strong enough to remember the full brunt of the pain your past life had lived through, but you did know that The Fates had spoken at least one truth. You would not be able to run from it.

A dark figure emerged from the trees, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of you. “There you are.”

“Morpheus,” you breathed, the pain easing as air filled your lungs.

His eyes narrowed as he took a step toward you. “Where have you been?” His arms wound around you, pulling you into the embrace you’d fought so hard to preserve. You buried your face into his chest and breathed in his scent. “I’ve been worried.”

With a soft noise, you smiled. “Forgive me, I did not mean to worry you. There were some things I needed to take care of.”

“Is all well?” His breath hitched at the mere thought of something being wrong.

You smoothed your hands down his chest and smiled. “All is well. I… I learned many things these past few days and have many questions that need answering.”

Morpheus nodded, soft hands caressing you. “I trust you will tell me your meaning when you are ready to?”

“Of course,” you answered. “It would be rather cruel of me to keep you in such suspense.”

“Cruel is not a word I’d use to describe you, my love.”

You wanted nothing more than to tell him of all you’d learned and everything that had happened in your time apart, but instead, you simply smiled. “Would you walk with me?”

He seemed to understand the gentle gleam of tears in your eyes and quietly offered you his arm and a kiss upon your head. “Always, my love.”

The two of you walked through the misty forest until you found the cave of crystals and the lake that you’d once danced upon. Without needing to speak any words, he stepped out onto the water and swept you away into a starlit dance. With your head laid against his chest, listening… feeling the steady beating of his heart, you finally spoke, “Do you think we will remain together in whatever existence comes after this?”

“I should think so,” he answered with a soft laugh. “We’ve found one another against impossible odds thus far.”

"Well, if it should come to an end, this immortal coil we find ourselves in..." You pulled away from his chest and gently held his face in your hands. "I should like it to end by your side, that we might turn to stardust together or be bound in the roots of the earth as one. I shall not pass to whatever existence awaits us in The Sunless Lands without you, my dearest Morpheus."

With the software of smiles, he pulled a small thing from his cloak and held it between you. A ring. The stone in the center was an ethereal array of thinking stars with a branch-like band of roots twining around it. He lifted your hand to slide the ring on your finger, kissing it and whispering a soft oath, "I vow that no matter what comes, nothing shall ever part us again. I am yours, Lady of The Forest, Distress, Discourage, Daunt… Munin. In every existence, every realm and lifetime, I am yours."

"Just as I am yours, Prince of Stories. Always."

Beneath the starry skies and amidst the groaning echoes of your realm, you and the Dream Lord shared a kiss, soft and bright and beautiful. For that one moment, the past didn’t matter. Not Daunt or Mneme… you were Munin, and you were here. You were loved. And as you stared into the eyes of your lover, you knew you always would be.

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ficjoelispunk · 5 months

Text

Ch 10 - DO YOUR JOB

You can find all the chapters available here

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A/N: Well guys, here we are going to start having a different Javier. It’s a toxic couple, I hope you know that. And, if you’re enjoying it, send me DM’s, talk to me, I love knowing what you’re thinking. And I also apologize for the grammatical errors, as you know I am translating, but soon I will have help, and this problem will be solved. Starting next week, I will post one chapter per week. We’re almost over... thank you all.

After the conversation that you are Javier had in the file room. Both you and Javi have avoided each other, even more so, if it was possible. It was ridiculous. But that's what was happening. You greeted each other with just a nod professionally. No words. Whenever they needed to talk, it was Murphy who came to you.

You found yourself sad a few times. Ugh! Many feelings have passed through you. Especially disappointment with yourself, for thinking that with you it was different. Never was. But you missed it. Your miss Javier, who is attentive, careful and protective.

Why did he do this to you?

He gave you a taste of how good he could be, only to later remind you how he could be extremely bad. Reckless and irresponsible. It seemed like he was controlled by two extremes. Either he was pulling you to him, or he was pushing you away from him.

It's okay that the goal of both of you was to catch Pablo Escobar. But unfortunately in this environment you got involved, and now you needed to deal with it.

Javier was right. You needed to stop being innocent. But you didn't have to stop being cautious. And you feared for him, where would it end up taking you both.

***

Christmas was coming. Another year is ending. As you were in the middle of Medellin, with no family, friends, or anything else. Your plan was to update the records, organize the agenda, catalog wiretapping, check possible connections and clues... and ignore Christmas.

Apparently someone had the same plans as you, about ignoring the Christmas spirit.

Another attack took place in the midst of Christmas ornaments, where children would be seeing the bodies of cruelly mutilated dead men.

"Feliz Navidad, Pablo" The sign said.

Javier looked at you on the other side of the table when he received the complaint. You shook your head coming out of the room a little bewildered. Just imagining that Javier could be involved with such violence, you wanted to vomit. Out, of course, the excess of details you had access to. That made you dream for weeks about the possibility of being you or him there. Or anyone in the department. Anyway.

These attacks were fomented by Los Pepes. You knew who had given that freedom. Him. And now there was no more control.

And Javier knew you were right. But now he couldn't go back. Javier created his own monster, which he would have to defeat.

And so followed the deaths, and the deaths that took over the media. Pepes were reported on all channels. And something had to be done.

Colonel Martinez called a meeting.

"We intercepted a call from an Escobar sicario, and we will monitor, and keep them informed. I also want to say that we know that there is another group acting in the same goal as ours, Los Pepes, we should not match them at all. The difference must be clear between them and us."

Javier didn't take his eyes off you. You didn't take your eyes off him. Knowing exactly that this information would come out of there directly to God knows to whom he would provide it. And you didn't have the courage to submit this information to the superintendence.

You became who you feared most in your work. All because of who you hated and avoided the most all this time, and now I couldn't stop thinking. You dug your own grave, and your biggest sin was lust.

You left the room behind Agents Peña and Murphy, tried not to listen to the conversation, but you listened.

"Los Pepes is an interesting unfolding," Murphy commented.

"Escobar has many enemies," Peña observed.

"I heard from Messina that a lot of people are watching them and us," Murphy looked back in his direction.

Javier looked over his shoulders.

You pretended not to notice.

"Are you secretly working for Los Pepes?" Javier asked Murphy relaxed.

"No," he laughed.

"So there's nothing to worry about"

But Javier was. And he had to worry. And you worried about him. Since he didn't have a shred of judgment in that hollow head.

***

The search group went out in an operation looking for the sicario who intercepted the call. But guess what? When they found the house. He had already been caught.

Murphy became suspicious. Late, you recognize it. But he connected the dots.

"When we finally confirmed that it was Jairo, Martinez gave the search order and when we arrived Los Pepes had already caught him"

"So?"

"And how did Los Pepes get here first?"

"He may have been followed. Or he said shit and someone heard it"

"Hm, is that all you have to say?"

Javier shrugged.

"I have a theory"

"And what would it be?" Javier asked while lighting a cigarette.

"I think someone is leaking information"

Javier shrugged again.

"And I think someone who may have reasons for that. You know... someone who stayed out long enough and went through terrible situations that may be being used from the inside..."

Javier stiffened. How could Murphy make an assumption like this about you and not him?

"Don't put her in the middle of it," Javier murmured. And walked away from Murphy, "if you're worried, investigate!" He raised a tone of voice as he walked.

***

You have received new information from the Embassy. You didn't want to pass it on to the Agents. Peña wasn't being careful at all. He didn't filter the information, he dumped everything to Los Pepes.

But it was your job.

You walked to the duo's table.

"We received new information from the Embassy"

Javier reached out to access the envelope, but you handed it to Steve, leaving him in a vacuum.

"Centra Spike give us a Christmas present?" Javier asked anxiously.

"Blackie is receiving phone calls from Envigado," you explained.

"The son of a bitch has a girlfriend," Murphy added.

Javier took the envelope from Steve's hand.

You and Steve looked at each other. You arched your eyebrows. Steve kept watching. Looking at Javier and you.

You reached out to Javier asking for the envelope back.

"I'll take it to Colonel Martinez to investigate"

Javier did not return it, until he read until the last line of the transcript.

"Yes, of course, as you wish," he then returned it to Murphy, and Murphy passed it on to you.

You rolled your eyes.

He left a few minutes later.

You went after it.

Murphy watched.

You picked up Javier on the phone.

"You don't waste time" you interrupted.

He turned to look at you.

"If you're going to keep doing this, even with everything that..."

"Shut up"

Javier sticks to your arm, and drags you to the cleaning room.

"Let me go"

"Be quiet" Javier squeezes your arm.

"You're hurting me" your voice fails, your breathing starts to get irregular "please."

Javier looks at you. He knows that his attitude awakens triggers in you. He lets go of your arm abruptly.

"Stop following me"

"Why? Are you afraid that they will find out that you are the fucking informant of a paramilitary faction?"

He advances on you, you smash your eyes, retreating until you touch the wall. Javier leaves you cornered, putting his hands next to your shoulder. Staring at you. The eyes running down your face, while your breath is heavy. Javier feels your body stiffen. He see the fear in your eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" You murmur, your voice failing.

He deflects his face quickly. Your stomach is turning.

"You're scaring me," you whisper.

"Stop acting like a child" Javier growls to you.

"You may lose your position" you try to find his look.

"It's working, isn't it?" He speaks rudely to you "we are leaving Pablo cornered, never before have we managed to catch so many sicaires, the siege is closing and tomorrow it could be him"

You sort the air through your mouth.

"This is not right, you are a Federal Agent, your work is against drug trafficking does not join him"

"I'm not joining anyone," he leans over you.

"I should report you"

Javier holds your jaw, without strength, but firm.

"Do your fucking job, and stay away from me," he says looking into your eyes.

You push him.

"Why did you rescue me? It would be much easier for you to let me die in that place. It would save you so much regret"

"Stop playing the poor thing, you're better than that..."

You took a step past it, but retreated side by side, to talk more.

"Don't worry Agent Peña, I already understood the message, I understood that you regretted taking me to your bed, and preferred to pretend that you didn't know me when the day dawned, I understood that you feel responsible, rest assured, you have no obligation to me"

"I wouldn't pretend if you slept with me every night"

WHAT? Jesus...

Javier grabs you, running his hand over your waist, pulling your body to his, kissing your lips.

You struggle in the tightness of your body against his chest. But he kisses you without caring about your slaps. Urgent. Messy. Raising you on his lap. Putting you on the table of cleaning material. Dropping the products on the floor. No worries if someone listened to you two in that tiny room. And before you reasoned, you were kissing him back.

Javier's hands squeezed your leg and waist, pulling your body against his, pressing on you. While you were pulling his hair. Your erratic breathing in a desperate kiss.

Javier goes down his lips around your neck, inhaling your perfume.

"I missed you," he murmured close to your ear.

"You'll get over it"

You tilt your head back. While Javier's hands unbutton your shirt frantically.

The other hand snakes under your skirt, you moan. Javier's fingers find the lace of your panties.

Your shirt already unbuttoned, Javier goes down his lips to your bra. Leaning you back to almost lie down on the table. He pulls the lace of the bra down releasing your nipple. That goes straight to his mouth.

You try not to make noise. Javier's fingers, pulling the fabric of your already damp panties to the side, his finger sliding over your middle. You spread your legs for him.

"I think you missed it too," he says with his lips on your skin.

He slides two fingers inside you. You pull the air through your open mouth with pleasure. Trying not to moan.

Your hands go down to his pants, where he is rigid, hard and needy. The touch makes Javier gasp.

"I don't think more than you" you say, touching his cock, disarming him completely.

You straighten the posture, and he establishes himself with his feet on the ground, while you pass your hand through his greeting pressing, massaging. Big and thick, in your small hand.

Javier stretches his hand back to turn the door lock.

You faded his pants and pulled the zipper. Javier leans over to kiss you.

He fucked you there. Against the wall. With his hands in your mouth, to drown out your needy moans, while he slid his cock inside you, strong, aggressive. As if he wanted to punish you. As if that were his punishment.

"I like how your mouth is silent when I'm inside you," he growled gravely in your ear.

You came while Javier held one of your legs next to his hip, giving him a perfect position inside you, leaving him the deepest you've ever felt.

"Javi" you sighed throwing your head back.

"Fuck!" He let out an animalistic sound with his head tilted back, when you started pulsing around his cock, with your body being pressed against the wall, your head hitting against the wall as he sinks violently inside you, with you having spasms of pleasure. Javier couldn't take it for another second, and you felt him fill you with the thick jets painting the walls of your pussy.

It was hard to think and avoid desire. It was difficult to control your body that longed for Javier, when your head couldn't find the strength to simply give you the coordinates to get away from that man.

"I won't keep doing this" you closed the buttons on your shirt.

"What? Sex?" He asks in a fun tone.

You face him.

"It's a little late for you to think about celibacy," Javier mocks.

You fake a fake smile.

"I'm not someone you can come and get what you need when you want, and how you want and then go out acting like I'm nobody, pretending I'm invisible. You don't have to pay me to fuck me, but unfortunately I have feelings"

Javier looked at you seriously.

"I'm not the one you want, it's the feeling, so have fun with others. You don't even want me near you, I don't understand what you think Javier"

"Are you going to have fun with others?" There was an anticipation in Javier's tone of voice.

"Maybe. Maybe I should. Maybe I should have fun with someone who really wants to have fun with me, someone who really cares about me, and it's not just an obligation."

Javier grinded his jaw.

"This won't happen anymore..." you repeated.

You had your hand on the door, turning the key, to get out.

You hesitated for a moment. You waited for an answer, you waited for Javier to say something. But Javier didn't say anything. He just leaned on the table, watching you go out with his head down.

You shook your head. And you left.

Javier tilted his head back, running his hands over his face. Alone in the living room, still with a foggy head about the sex they just had.

He couldn't say anything to you. How to explain that he thinks of you every single day, every fucking moment. That the fucking smell of your body moisturizer sticks to his skin, and it's like a drug that turns off his senses. That nothing compares to when he is inside you, feeling your warmth, as if they were one thing. That he never felt that way.

How could he say that, when he was Javier Peña. When he was leaking information from inside the department to other drug traffickers. You were very involved. He was very involved. That had no chance of ending well. But he didn't want to drag you with him into this hole.

How could he tell you that you mean a lot to him. When his mouth said something and his head said another, and his heart said something even more different.

But Javier was mostly inconsequential. And his inconsistency always ended up speaking louder.

***

At least, the time Javier spent fucking you from the cleaning room, Murphy managed to pass on the information to Colonel Martinez about the listening you gave them earlier about Blackie.

They organized the search group to surround the area. But he did it without Javier. Agent Peña only knew when the search team was leaving the base.

"Fucking Christmas miracle" Peña murmured to himself.

Peña was worried. A whole tactical team positioned to make a blockade, and intercept Blackie, when he knew that from the information he leaked, at any moment, Los Pepes would be there too.

He tried to warn Don Berna. But it was too late.

Los Pepes were already close to the address. And Colonel Martínez ordered a blitz through the region. And they fell on the street where the cars were being stop.

It turns out that the officer responsible for the blitz was the son of Colonel Martínez, and when the Castaño brothers' car was stopped, and asked to present documents. Fidel offered money to the officer.

The integrity of Martinez's son equal to or superior to that of his father. And trying to bribe him triggered exactly what Javier tried to avoid.

When Martinez relocated the units to sector 20 which was where his son was, Murphy passed on the information to Javier, and an icy hollow invaded his stomach, already wondering what it could be.

Carlos Castaño tried to inform the officer that they were on the same side. But in a desperate attitude, the officer pointed the gun at him. All the other paramilitaries in the cars behind came down from the cars, heavily armed, with semi-automatics, and machine guns.

Javier and Murphy arrived and witnessed the conflict. Immediately Murphy got out of the car almost in motion.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" He despaired when he saw all the weapons pointed at the colonel's son "Calma! ¡Calma! Deja ir el arma” Murphy’s horrible Spanish.

Javier didn't get out of the car. Prosecuting. The shit that was going on.

They started yelling at each other. Threatening each other.

“¡Bravo! ¡Bravo! ¡Bravo! ¡Qué hombres! Bravo” he got out of the car, and clapped his hands "Sí, lo sabemos, todos queremos a Pablo" he was walking to Carlos Castaño "Pero tienes que dejarnos hacer nuestro puto trabajo, ¿de acuerdo?"

Javier was panting. The breathing failed. The tension hovered in the air. He knew everyone there was crazy. And that anyone could start a slaughter.

He approached Carlos Castaño's ear.

"¿Qué? ¿Nos vamos a matar en una puta barrera?" Javier turned to Fidel, right behind his brother "¡Deja caer el arma! ¡Babajo el arma!"

Carlos Castaño handed the gun to Javier.

Javier turned to the officer.

"They think they're helping us" Javier hands the gun to the officer, and holds his face "Okay? Is everything okay?"

"Yes, sir," the officer replies.

"Let's go back home alive" Javier smiles panting "Right?"

"Right"

"Déjalos pasar"

"Ok"

And so it was. They went through the blockade.

And Murphy understood there, what was happening.

"What? I know I was avoiding a bloodbath" Javier shrugged.

Murphy smiled ironically. Understanding everything perfectly now.

In short, they didn't catch Blackie that day. The girlfriend didn't deliver it, of course. And they lost the operation.

Javier had surrendered there. Colonel Martinez also had a moment of lucidity just like Murphy.

You saw Javier pass by your table with big steps, he stared at you for a brief moment, his eyes worried, disappointed. You understood that the situation was not good.

Murphy passed right behind him following his trail. You stretched out on the table to see them talk. Agent Murphy almost stuck to Javier.

"When would you intend to tell me about your new friend Carlos Castaño?"

Javier looked at you over his shoulders. Hesitant.

"He's not my friend. We have a common interest"

Murphy shook his head.

"My God Javi, I hope you know what you're doing"

"Don't worry, I won't involve you"

Murphy looked at you, pointing with his chin in your direction.

"And her?"

Javier stays still.

"What about her?"

"Do she know?"

Javier doesn't answer.

"I'll imagine that she doesn't know and that's why you're not being suspended, since she would report you at the first opportunity, right?"

Javier knew where Steve wanted to go. If you knew and didn't file the complaint, you would be an accomplice of Javier. And if you didn't know, you would be the worst assistant ever seen in the United States of America.

"Right," Javier replied.

"I'm not worried about myself..."

"I know how to take care of myself"

"With this kind of guys you shouldn’t get involved, Javi”

Javier hesitates. He looks at you sitting behind your desk, hold it now after being kidnapped, you've already warned him about it. And he already knew.

"You're going to drag her into the middle of this madness"

"She's very big to take care of her life, Murphy"

"I thought you liked her..."

Javier stared at Murphy.

"If you are interested..." Javier raises an eyebrow.

"Go to hell Peña, if she knows something, and doesn't talk, know that she's taking a risk for you. I'm telling you because you're stupid enough not to recognize"

"They will do this, with or without my help. At least this way, I'm in the middle, and I have control" Javier hesitates "not to cross the limit"

"So as not to cross the limit?" Steve frowned "did they take the girl, pointed a fucking gun at an officer's head and the bandits come out unharmed?"

"Who are the good guys Steve? That’s us?"

The two face each other in silence. Javi walked by leaps and bounds, you accompanied him passing by you with your eyes.

***

The Castaño brothers were being efficient, but Pablo Escobar was Pablo Escobar, he had eyes and ears throughout the city of Medellin.

Escobar managed to find out who were the faces that personified Los Pepes. And he knew that the Castaño brothers would only act like this moved by money. And he knew that Judy Moncada wouldn't have enough money to move them. Following the line of reasoning after Judy, it turns the Cali cartel.

Pablo orchestrated an attack on the wedding day of Gilberto Rodriguez's daughter, blowing up all the millionaire wedding decoration, with the bomb that exploded in the middle of the event.

And it was at this point in history that things went off the rails for good.

#javier pena x y/n #javier pena fluff #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier peña #pedro pascal #narcos #narcos fanfiction

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procrazedfan · 2 months

Note

I wish you would write a fic about the last time Lucius saw Skwisgaar in person (any age/era of his life)

For the love of god, get a tissue before you read...

The King is Dead

He should have noticed the signs sooner. His hyper fertility. His love of aging bodies. His own body not aging.

It took him a decade after the Dethlights for him to realize that his mind had slowly matured. It took him another to notice that his body had stopped maturing altogether.

Whether it was because of his direct lineage from what members of the Church called “The Spirit of Creation” or it was his status of the “Beast Daughter of the Apocalypse” (according to what Nathan said the whale told him) he wasn’t sure.

But it had made one of his fears into a reality. Gave him a confirmation why he should never truly emotionally attach himself to the world around him.

As a God, it was his destiny to watch all those he loved die.

He couldn’t think of an existence more brutal than that.

Skwisgaar trudged his way through the guards of Deth Valley, his grandchildren, no doubt, who regarded his presence with suspicion.

He sighed with both a strange mixture of pride and irritation, a feeling that he had grown accustomed when he was around his progeny. “I was -uh summonedses by the king? I heards he was…eugh…”

He didn’t want to say the word out loud.

The two guards looked at one another and gave him a curt nod, escorting him through the bustling village.

A hint of a smile played on his lips as he listened to the laughter that rang in the air. It had gotten bigger since the last time he visited. There were far more children playing in the grass that never turned yellow, wearing flower crowns, and singing songs. Truly, Deth Valley was a slice of undying paradise in a world that had been otherwise slowly healing from the damage of the Metalocalypse.

And the person they all owed it to was lying on his deathbed.

After the guards announced his presence to the frail old man lying in bed, Skwisgaar slowly stepped towards the edge of the bed, taking in his son’s face.

Wrinkles, liver spots, white hair, and a gaunt expression. Instead of staring at the ghost of what he was, he was staring at a ghost of what he could have been. He did not know whether to feel sorrow, or envy.

Lucius coughed himself awake, taking in the sight of his father in his blurry vision.

“You came.”

Biting his lower lip, Skwisgaar chuckled to himself. “How coulds I nots?”

The dying king tried to adjust himself, but Skwisgaar wasn’t having it.

“Takes it easies. You aments…”

The old man chuckled. “ Since when have I done what you told me?”

Skwisgaar held back his tears and laughed with him. “That ams true. You always are a stubborns little shits.”

“Fucking Deadbeat…” Lucius chuckled, trying to keep their last meeting a light one, despite the heavy occasion.

“Assholes.” He chuckled, tears running down his cheek. “You goes and dies just sos you has the last words.”

Lucius shook his head. “It’s natural for all humans to die, Dad.”

“You could have stayeds like me…” He muttered almost selfishly.

“You knew I didn’t do what I did for me.” the old man answered.

Skwisgaar sniffed. “Thats you didn’ts min lille viking.”

He chuckled. “I’m not a viking, Dad… there is no Valhalla for a king who dies in bed instead of on the battlefield.”

Skwisgaar shook his head, tears flowing freely down his face. “If there ams no Valhallas for the little viking who stormed Mordhaus with an axe ands steals my beer, then there ams no hopes for any other warriors.”

The king’s eyes grew weary as his father tucked him back down into bed.

“Rests now. You ams dones all you cans.”

The last thing that Lucius felt before his soul departed was the gentle hand of a loving father’s touch.

#mtl oc #lucius #metalocalypse #death fic #skwisgaar skwigelf #I fucking bawled excuse me.

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elvenbeard · 7 months

Text

BOLD the FACTS

RULES: BOLD what applies to your OC I was tagged by @wraithsoutlaws @pinkyjulien @chevvy-yates and @wistereia thank you so much!! :D

▞ ▟ PERSONAL ▙ ▚

Vince's life was always a rollercoaster and will continue to be one for the foreseeable future. He went from Charter Hill's rooftops to Kabuki's back alleys, from Arasaka's Counterintel department to a landfill... and then back to the top of Night City's seedy underworld and beyond. His parents probably didn't imagine he'd use his several-thousand-eddies-a-month education to one day run the city's most infamous bar and criminal hangout... and be fucking good at the job!

Financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty

Medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / non-applicable

Class or Caste: upper / middle / working / unsure / other

Education: qualified / unqualified / studying / other

Criminal Record*: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / has committed crimes, but not caught yet / yes, but charges were dismissed

*but nothing has come of it so far because he either makes sure the records "disappear" or no one would dare to do something about the smaller stuff

▞ ▟ FAMILY ▙ ▚

An only child of two people that should have never become parents, Vince never had the healtiest rolemodels when it comes to family and marriage.

Children: had a child or children / has no children / wants children*

Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased

Affiliation: orphaned / abandoned / adopted / disowned** / raised by birth parent(s) / not applicable

*he is actually very good with children and he never fully excluded the idea from his life, a "maybe one day" scenario... but he's smart enough to know that with his current job and situation having kids would be the worst move imaginable - mostly for the hypothetical kids

**his father died when he was 13, and he has no idea what became of his mother, but they haven't been in contact for 7+ years and counting by 2077

▞ ▟ TRAITS & TENDENCIES ▙ ▚

One thing Vince learned from a young age is that showing your true emotions and intentions will get you nowhere but into trouble. His cold, calculating, corporate mask has become his protective armor that he only drops around people he'd trust with his life, that he knows will not use his vulnerability to their advantage. None of his behavior is an act - he is the bold and self-confident bastard the world has turned him into while he always fought to never fully lose his humanity.

♦ extroverted / introverted / in-between

♦ disorganized / organized / in-between

♦ close-minded / open-minded / in-between

♦ calm / anxious / in-between / highly contextual

♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in-between

♦ cautious / reckless / in-between / highly contextual

♦ patient / impatient / in-between

♦ outspoken / reserved / in-between / highly contextual

♦ leader / follower / in-between

♦ empathetic / vicious bastard / in-between

♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in-between

♦ traditional / modern / in-between

♦ hard-working / lazy / in-between

♦ cultured / uncultured / in-between / unknown

♦ loyal / disloyal / in-between / unknown

♦ faithful / unfaithful / in-between / unknown

(a lot here is "in-between" or "highly contextual" because he's always a bit torn between what he wants to show to others and what he wants. he's a professional killing machine and netrunner, but also an adrenaline junkie that sometimes dashes headfirst into a gig without properly thinking it through)

▞ ▟ BELIEFS ▙ ▚

There are no gods, but with a universe so vast it's unlikely that there's no other life out there - just no Techno-Necromants and the likes please...

Faith: monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic

Belief in Ghosts or Spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care / in a manner of speaking

Belief in an Afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care / in a manner of speaking

Belief in Reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care / in a manner of speaking

Belief in Aliens: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

Religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious

Philosophical: yes / no / highly contextual

(Not really mentioned here but it fits the category: Vince does belief in fate to a certain degree, even though it goes against his usually rather logical approach to things. There were just too many coincidences in his life - happy and unlucky alike - for him to not believe in some kind of red string leading him somewhere. And that idea of "somewhere", a goal he's led to, whatever it may be, is what kept him going through his darkest moments.)

▞ ▟ SEXUALITY & ROMANCE ▙ ▚

When he was younger, Vince really struggled with his sexuality, negatively impacted by dysphoria. Later on sex almost became some kind of mechanical stress relief that he first had to connect an emotional aspect to, but that made it even better. He crushes hard and fast, but he doesn't love easily.

Sexuality: heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual

Sex: sex-repulsed / sex neutral / sex favorable / naive and clueless

Romance: romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable / naive and clueless / romance suspicious

Sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious

Potential Sexual Partners*: male / female / agender / other / none / all

Potential Romantic Partners*: male / female / agender / other / none / all

*Vince had exactly one girlfriend once when they were both teenagers. And both agreed that nope, the other is not what they want after a very shortlived yet eye-opening relationship xD

▞ ▟ ABILITIES ▙ ▚

Excellent schooling and his training at Arasaka paid off. Yet, while he is alright with guns, he still prefers to remain in the background and shadows.

Combat Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor/ none

Literacy Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

Artistic Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

Technical Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

▞ ▟ HABITS ▙ ▚

Smoking is disgusting, Vince tried it but cannot see the appeal. Alcohol he actually doesn't mind, but it makes him very sick very quickly due to a genetic predisposition. During his last year with Arasaka he developed a drug addiction to cope with increasing stress and a traumatic incident. While he's going through phases of being completely clean for a few months at a time, it is a continuous battle and he's relapsed here and there.

Drinking Alcohol: never / special occasions / rarely / sometimes / frequently / alcoholic / former borderline alcoholic turned sober

Smoking: tried it / trying to quit / quit / never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / chain-smoker

Recreational Drugs: tried some / never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / addict

Medicinal Drugs: never / no longer needs medication / some medication needed* / frequently / to excess

Unhealthy Food: never / special occasions / rarely / sometimes** / frequently / binge eater

Splurge Spending: never / sometimes / frequently / shopaholic***

Gambling: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / compulsive gamble

*most of it Relic-related

**more out of convenience or if things get stressful; he doesn't really like junk food or most street food that much

***he's not completely irresponsible with his money, but fashion, tech, and cars are biiiig weaknesses and all come with a certain price tag

▞ ▟ ▉ ▙ ▚ ▞ ▟ ▉ ▙ ▚▞ ▟ ▉ ▙ ▚▞ ▟ ▉ ▙ ▚▞ ▟ ▉ ▙ ▚

Thanks for reading, I know this was a very long one, but I really love these types of tag games and cannot stop myself from writing xD

Also played around a bit with some more colorful formatting (cause I love particularly what @pinkyjulien always does for his posts in terms of formatting *__* not sure yet if I'll keep it up exactly like this, but it was a fun exercise nonetheless! :D)

I'm tagging @cherryrockpops @peaches-n-screem @imaginarycyberpunk2023 @seeker-of-truth @dani-the-goblin @rindemption @brujebutch @swearingcactus @humberg aaaaaand you if you're reading this. Completely without pressure as always ofc!

Again, thanks for reading!

#cyberpunk 2077 #vincent ezaki #tag games

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orthodoxadventure · 4 months

Text

Prayer to the Protection of the Mother Of God

O all-holy Virgin, Mother of the Lord of the hosts on high, Thou Queen of heaven and earth and almighty Defender of our country, accept from us Thine unworthy servants this song of praise and thanksgiving and bring our prayer up to the throne of Thy God and Son, that He be merciful towards our unrighteousness, and extend His grace to those who honour Thy name and venerate with faith and love Thy wonder-working ikon. For we are not worthy to be forgiven by Him hadst Thou, O Lady, not made Him merciful towards us, for all things from Him are possible to Thee. Therefore we run to Thee as Thou art our swift and undoubted Protector. Hear us who pray to Thee: overshadow us with Thine almighty veil and ask from Thy God and Son zeal and vigilance for our shepherds, wisdom and strength for the souls of those who govern our cities, righteousness and impartiality for our judges, understanding and humility for our leaders, love and concord for the married, obedience for our children, patience for those who have been offended, the fear of God for those that offend, stoutheartedness for the afflicted, restraint for those that rejoice, and for all of us the spirit of understanding and godliness, the spirit of mercy and meekness, the spirit of chastity and truth. Yea, O all-holy Lady, be merciful towards Thy feeble people: gather together the dispersed, guide on the right way those that have gone astray, uphold old age, make the young pure, bring up the children and look down upon all of us with the care of Thy merciful protection. Raise us from the depth of sin and enlighten the eyes of our hearts to see salvation. Be merciful to us both here and yonder, during our wandering in the land of this earth and at the Last Judgement of Thy Son: and make our fathers and brothers who have departed this life live the eternal life with the angels and all the saints. For Thou, O Lady, art the glory of those in heaven and the trust of those on earth. After God, Thou art the hope and Defender of all who flee to Thee with faith. We then pray to Thee and to Thee as our almighty Helper, do we commend ourselves and one another, now and for ever and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

O my most blessed Queen, my all-holy hope, Receiver of orphans and Defender of the strangers, Helper of those in poverty, Protector of the sick, behold my distress, behold my affliction. On all sides am I held by temptation, and there is none to defend me. Help me then as I am weak, feed me as I am a pilgrim, guide me as I have strayed, heal and save me as I lie without hope. For I have no other help, nor advocate nor comforter, save Thee, O Mother of all the afflicted and heavy laden. Look down then on me, a sinner lying in sickness, and protect me with Thine all-holy Veil, that I be delivered from all the ills surrounding me and may ever praise Thy Name that all men sing. Amen.

#Theotokos #Blessed Virgin Mary #Christianity #Orthodox Christianity #Prayer

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legend-collection · 4 months

Text

Erlking

In European folklore and myth, the Erlking is a sinister elf who lingers in the woods. He stalks children who stay in the woods for too long, and kills them by a single touch.

Pic by Sammycat17 on deviantart

The name "Erlking" is a name used in German Romanticism for the figure of a spirit or "king of the fairies". It is usually assumed that the name is a derivation from the ellekonge (older elverkonge, i.e. "Elf-king") in Danish folklore. The name is first used by Johann Gottfried Herder in his ballad "Erlkönigs Tochter" (1778), an adaptation of the Danish Hr. Oluf han rider (1739), and was taken up by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe in his poem "Erlkönig" (1782), which was set to music by Schubert, among others. Goethe added a new meaning, as "Erl" does not mean "elf", but "black alder" - the poem about the Erlenkönig is set in the area of an alder quarry in the Saale valley in Thuringia. In English translations of Goethe's poem, the name is sometimes rendered as Erl-king.

According to Jacob Grimm, the term originates with a Scandinavian (Danish) word, ellekonge "king of the elves", or for a female spirit elverkongens datter "the elven king's daughter", who is responsible for ensnaring human beings to satisfy her desire, jealousy or lust for revenge. The New Oxford American Dictionary follows this explanation, describing the Erlking as "a bearded giant or goblin who lures little children to the land of death", mistranslated by Herder as Erlkönig in the late 18th century from ellerkonge. The correct German word would have been Elbkönig or Elbenkönig, afterwards used under the modified form of Elfenkönig by Christoph Martin Wieland in his 1780 poem Oberon.

Alternative suggestions have also been made; in 1836, Halling suggested a connection with a Turkic and Mongolian god of death or psychopomp, known as Erlik Chan.

Johann Gottfried von Herder introduced this character into German literature in "Erlkönigs Tochter", a ballad published in his 1778 volume Stimmen der Völker in Liedern. It was based on the Danish folk ballad "Hr. Oluf han rider" "Sir Oluf he rides" published in the 1739 Danske Kæmpeviser. Herder undertook a free translation where he translated the Danish elvermø ("elf maid") as Erlkönigs Tochter; according to Danish legend old burial mounds are the residence of the elverkonge, dialectically elle(r)konge, the latter has later been misunderstood in Denmark by some antiquarians as "alder king", cf Danish elletræ "alder tree". It has generally been assumed that the mistranslation was the result of error, but it has also been suggested (Herder does actually also refer to elves in his translation) that he was imaginatively trying to identify the malevolent sprite of the original tale with a woodland old man (hence the alder king).

The story portrays Sir Oluf riding to his marriage but being entranced by the music of the elves. An elf maiden, in Herder's translation the Elverkonge's daughter, appears and invites him to dance with her. He refuses and spurns her offers of gifts and gold. Angered, she strikes him and sends him on his way, deathly pale. The following morning, on the day of his wedding, his bride finds him lying dead under his scarlet cloak.

Although inspired by Herder's ballad, Goethe departed significantly from both Herder's rendering of the Erlking and the Scandinavian original. The antagonist in Goethe's "Der Erlkönig" is the Erlking himself rather than his daughter. The Erlkönig appears to a young boy in a feverish delirium - his father, however, identifies the apparition as a simple streak of fog. Goethe's Erlking differs in other ways as well: his version preys on children, rather than adults of the opposite sex, and the Erlking's motives are never made clear. Goethe's Erlking is much more akin to the Germanic portrayal of elves and valkyries – a force of death rather than simply a magical spirit.

In Angela Carter's short story "The Erl-King", contained within the 1979 collection The Bloody Chamber, the female protagonist encounters a male forest spirit. Though she becomes aware of his malicious intentions, she is torn between her desire for him and her desire for freedom. In the end, she forms a plan to kill him in order to escape his power.

Charles Kinbote, the narrator of Vladimir Nabokov's 1962 novel, Pale Fire, alludes to "alderkings". One allusion is in his commentary to line 275 of fellow character John Shade's eponymous poem. In the case of this commentary, the word invokes homosexual ancestors of the last king of Zembla, Kinbote's ostensible homeland. The novel contains at least one other reference by Kinbote to alderkings.

In Jim Butcher's The Dresden Files, there is a character called the Erlking, modeled after the leader of the Wild Hunt, Herne the Hunter.

In the author John Connolly's short story collection Nocturnes (2004), there is a character known as the Erlking who attempts to abduct the protagonist.

The New Yorker's "20 Under 40" issue of July 5, 2010 included the short story "The Erlking" by Sarah Shun-lien Bynum.

A version of the Erl-King is mentioned in Zoe Gilbert's Mischief Acts, implied to be a figure related to Herne the Hunter.

In Andrzej Sapkowski's The Witcher saga, the highest leader of the Folk of the Alder elves, Auberon Muircetach, is also known as the Alder King. In the story, he maintains thematic ties to kidnapping: the Wild Hunt, known for abducting humans, is subordinate to him, and he orchestrates the imprisonment of Cirilla.

#Erlking #europe

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spotsupstuff · 8 months

Note

How did the Folk Gods felt when the mass ascension happened? What do they think of the echoes?

exasperated but in an extremely tired way. they wanted these people to be happy and lead meaningful full lives and this is how it ends. it's basically like seeing their child continually sabotage themselves and then ultimately commit suicide. it Hurts but it's been going downhill, being shamelessly emotionally draining for so fucking long that at this rate it's actually Hard to feel proper grief now that the end is here. they just can't generate it, which is the fault of the society's slow decline, not theirs

the echoes get mixed reactions just how Echoes happen for different reasons. you have those haughty bastards who's egoes weighted them down too much to depart properly, which get mostly an eyeroll or a tired look, and then you have those who were coaxed or forced into it despite not being ready while being innocent, which get a sad sigh and pained little smile

because Echoes imo are sort of a combo of ghosts and hell/purgatory. it IS possible to leave this state, this place! but for that the Echo needs to let go of what is holding it there. those who are egoistics are pretty much stuck in there, cuz they can't see where the fault in them is, but they need to do Specifically That to move on. those who are there for "sins" like loving life stay until they are satisfied within the spirit. or until they figure out that the beauty is that much more potent once not strangled by need and desire to have it. then they are able to move on

basically it's introspection/cultivation just in a different plane of existence and the Folk Gods know this. there's those stuck for probably good children which is sad but their own fault and then there's those who have a chance yet and so they have faith

#spot says stuff #rw #oc tag

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officialyourdailyinspiration · 5 months

Text

Dedication to Theophilus

1 Inasmuch as many have taken in hand to set in order a narrative of those things which have been fulfilled among us, 2 just as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word delivered them to us, 3 it seemed good to me also, having had perfect understanding of all things from the very first, to write to you an orderly account, most excellent Theophilus, 4 that you may know the certainty of those things in which you were instructed.

John’s Birth Announced to Zacharias

5 There was in the days of Herod, the king of Judea, a certain priest named Zacharias, of the division of Abijah. His wife was of the daughters of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth. 6 And they were both righteous before God, walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless. 7 But they had no child, because Elizabeth was barren, and they were both well advanced in years.

8 So it was, that while he was serving as priest before God in the order of his division, 9 according to the custom of the priesthood, his lot fell to burn incense when he went into the temple of the Lord. 10 And the whole multitude of the people was praying outside at the hour of incense. 11 Then an angel of the Lord appeared to him, standing on the right side of the altar of incense. 12 And when Zacharias saw him, he was troubled, and fear fell upon him.

13 But the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zacharias, for your prayer is heard; and your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall call his name John. 14 And you will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth. 15 For he will be great in the sight of the Lord, and shall drink neither wine nor strong drink. He will also be filled with the Holy Spirit, even from his mother’s womb. 16 And he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God. 17 He will also go before Him in the spirit and power of Elijah, ‘to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children,’ and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.”

18 And Zacharias said to the angel, “How shall I know this? For I am an old man, and my wife is well advanced in years.”

19 And the angel answered and said to him, “I am Gabriel, who stands in the presence of God, and was sent to speak to you and bring you these glad tidings. 20 But behold, you will be mute and not able to speak until the day these things take place, because you did not believe my words which will be fulfilled in their own time.”

21 And the people waited for Zacharias, and marveled that he lingered so long in the temple. 22 But when he came out, he could not speak to them; and they perceived that he had seen a vision in the temple, for he beckoned to them and remained speechless.

23 So it was, as soon as the days of his service were completed, that he departed to his own house. 24 Now after those days his wife Elizabeth conceived; and she hid herself five months, saying, 25 “Thus the Lord has dealt with me, in the days when He looked on me, to take away my reproach among people.”

Christ’s Birth Announced to Mary

26 Now in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, 27 to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. 28 And having come in, the angel said to her, “Rejoice, highly favored one, the Lord is with you; blessed are you among women!”

29 But when she saw him, she was troubled at his saying, and considered what manner of greeting this was. 30 Then the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. 31 And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bring forth a Son, and shall call His name Jesus. 32 He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Highest; and the Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David. 33 And He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of His kingdom there will be no end.”

34 Then Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I do not know a man?”

35 And the angel answered and said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Highest will overshadow you; therefore, also, that Holy One who is to be born will be called the Son of God. 36 Now indeed, Elizabeth your relative has also conceived a son in her old age; and this is now the sixth month for her who was called barren. 37 For with God nothing will be impossible.”

38 Then Mary said, “Behold the maidservant of the Lord! Let it be to me according to your word.” And the angel departed from her.

Mary Visits Elizabeth

39 Now Mary arose in those days and went into the hill country with haste, to a city of Judah, 40 and entered the house of Zacharias and greeted Elizabeth. 41 And it happened, when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, that the babe leaped in her womb; and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. 42 Then she spoke out with a loud voice and said, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! 43 But why is this granted to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? 44 For indeed, as soon as the voice of your greeting sounded in my ears, the babe leaped in my womb for joy. 45 Blessed is she who believed, for there will be a fulfillment of those things which were told her from the Lord.”

The Song of Mary

46 And Mary said:

“My soul magnifies the Lord, 47 And my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior. 48 For He has regarded the lowly state of His maidservant; For behold, henceforth all generations will call me blessed. 49 For He who is mighty has done great things for me, And holy is His name. 50 And His mercy is on those who fear Him From generation to generation. 51 He has shown strength with His arm; He has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. 52 He has put down the mighty from their thrones, And exalted the lowly. 53 He has filled the hungry with good things, And the rich He has sent away empty. 54 He has helped His servant Israel, In remembrance of His mercy, 55 As He spoke to our fathers, To Abraham and to his seed forever.”

56 And Mary remained with her about three months, and returned to her house.

Birth of John the Baptist

57 Now Elizabeth’s full time came for her to be delivered, and she brought forth a son. 58 When her neighbors and relatives heard how the Lord had shown great mercy to her, they rejoiced with her.

Circumcision of John the Baptist

59 So it was, on the eighth day, that they came to circumcise the child; and they would have called him by the name of his father, Zacharias. 60 His mother answered and said, “No; he shall be called John.”

61 But they said to her, “There is no one among your relatives who is called by this name.” 62 So they made signs to his father—what he would have him called.

63 And he asked for a writing tablet, and wrote, saying, “His name is John.” So they all marveled. 64 Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue loosed, and he spoke, praising God. 65 Then fear came on all who dwelt around them; and all these sayings were discussed throughout all the hill country of Judea. 66 And all those who heard them kept them in their hearts, saying, “What kind of child will this be?” And the hand of the Lord was with him.

Zacharias’ Prophecy

67 Now his father Zacharias was filled with the Holy Spirit, and prophesied, saying:

68 “Blessed is the Lord God of Israel, For He has visited and redeemed His people, 69 And has raised up a horn of salvation for us In the house of His servant David, 70 As He spoke by the mouth of His holy prophets, Who have been since the world began, 71 That we should be saved from our enemies And from the hand of all who hate us, 72 To perform the mercy promised to our fathers And to remember His holy covenant, 73 The oath which He swore to our father Abraham: 74 To grant us that we, Being delivered from the hand of our enemies, Might serve Him without fear, 75 In holiness and righteousness before Him all the days of our life.

76 “And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Highest; For you will go before the face of the Lord to prepare His ways, 77 To give knowledge of salvation to His people By the remission of their sins, 78 Through the tender mercy of our God, With which the Dayspring from on high has visited us; 79 To give light to those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death, To guide our feet into the way of peace.”

80 So the child grew and became strong in spirit, and was in the deserts till the day of his manifestation to Israel.

#Gospel of Luke #Luke 1 #New Testament #NKJV #New King James Version Bible #Thomas Nelson Inc.#Dedication to Theophilus #John the Baptist's birth announced #Zacharias #Christ's birth announced #Mary #Gabriel #Mary visits Elizabeth #Mary's song #birth of John The Baptist #Circumcision of John the Baptist #Zacharias’ Prophecy

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