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talonabraxas · 1 month

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Jai Kali Ma!!♡

Maa Kali Talon Abraxas

On The True Meaning Of Kali Standing Above Shiva – The ‘Dark’ Devi Uber Alles

“Kali is standing over Shiva with Tongue out in contrition and embarrassment. He is underfoot, having been trampled upon – as Her Fury had burned out of all control and stood the risk of initiating the unravelling of the Worlds Entire. Thus necessitating Her Husband, Mahadev, throwing Himself down into Her Path in order to sacrifice Himself to shock Her out of it and bring things to a safe conclusion. And thus the aforementioned expression of acknowledgement of an error and having been shamed via lapse of self-control.”

Except here’s the thing. That’s not actually how the story goes. At all.

Instead, what I’ve just relayed in the passage above is a kind of post-facto ‘reading into’ the overt symbolism of the iconography by persons who were evidently not acquainted with what these elements are actually intended to mean. Or who wanted to simply reinforce particular narratives – whether sexist or ‘merely’ sectarian – accordingly. Probably both.

Now, where there is a substantive point of agreement between the ‘pop-(mis-)perception’ and the authentic understanding is when it comes to Shiva. Namely, how He appears to be lying there like a corpse (‘Shava’).

The point of difference comes in terms of how He got there in the first place.

You’ve heard the rendition above wherein Kali and Her Insurmountable Rage effectively ‘kill’ Him.

Except in reality, it’s the opposite.

Kali is standing above Shiva as Shava because She’s bringing Him to Life.

Because, after all, without Her – well, the Purusha (‘Man’, ‘Cosmic Man’ – ‘Universe’) is not animate, is simply inanimate ‘matter’ lacking the investiture of Shakti that brings the universe to life.

This is the similar notion to that which is so eloquently expressed by Adi Shankara in his well-known Saundarya Lahari [‘The Waves of Beauty’] –

“sivah saktya yukto yadi bhavati saktah prabhavitum

na cedevam devo na khalu kusalah spanditumapi”

Which, to render word-by-word:

“Shiva with Shakti joined (Yukta), if (Yadi) comes to be (Bhavati) empowered / endowed with (Sakta) is able to influence / manifest / effect (Prabhavitum)

If Without (Na Cet), the God (Devo) is indeed (Khalu) not capable / competent (Kusala) even (Api) to ‘pulsate’ / ‘move’ / ‘engage in mental activity’ (Spanditum) .”

Or, in rather more conventional English:

“If Shiva is joined with His Shakti, then He becomes empowered to Manifest and Impel the Universe

But without Her, Even the Mighty God is indeed unable to even Move nor Mentally Conceive”

This also helps to explain, in a roundabout way, just why it is Kali Who is depicted in such a fashion.

The simple answer is to be found in Her Divine Complexion. It is the Night Before (and Between) Worlds. The Black Infinity.

Exactly as one should expect in the ‘poised’ time imminently afore the Universe at large should spring into being – and into Life.

To quote from one of my earlier pieces in this particular direction:

“Hence, that idea of the ‘corpse’ ‘stirring’ to life – and we would note the PIE *h₃er- – to ‘rise up’, to ‘stir up’, and yes, ‘to fight’; that has a likely expression also in the ‘Erinyes’ of ‘Demeter Erinyes’, or various other epithets and theonymics quite salient to our purpose here.

If we are to conceptualize the Universe as a ‘Body’ – then without Her, it is a Body not in motion. It is static, it is still, it is suspended and stopped. Indeed, we may go back steps further and note that it is a body that is not even extant to *be* in such a frame.

If we are to conceptualize the Universe and its unfurling as a Dream, a Vision – the ‘mental activity’ we had spoken upon earlier – then without Her, even Lord Shiva is unable to Dream, to experience and then actively bring to immanentize, His Vision.

Or, we may say – Her Dream, Her Vision – the one that She had Inspired Him to express !

It is a good thing, then, that She never truly leaves Him – not for too long, anyway.

His Shakti is always there – it is just simply a matter of divining how to reach out to Her again.”

So, given that we know Kali does not, in fact, bring about the corpse-like status of Her Husband (at that point in the cosmology and mythic cycle, at any rate), but rather is fulsomely engaged in preparing to bring about the exact opposite …

… what to make of the situation as to Her Outstretched Tongue? It cannot be a gesture of contrition, after all – She has nothing to be contrite for.

Well, for that we would suggest turning back to the major mythic episode in which Her Protruding Tongue is saliently mentioned: the Slaying of Raktabija.

There, Devi’s Tongue surges forth in order to be able to dart about the battlefield – intercepting each and every drop of blood of the demon Raktabija [‘Blood-Seed’] so as to disrupt the effect of a boon he had been given … that ensured another Raktabija should spawn every time a drop of his blood hit the ground.

The effective purport of meaning to this can be reasonably easily observed:

Namely – that Her Tongue ‘gets in everywhere’ (It has to – that was why this was deployed ‘gainst Raktabija, after all) and is unstoppable.

This, too, can be interpreted in multiple not-necessarily-exclusive ways. Whether in terms of being able to drink blood & receive offering in such a broad and pervasive, unrestricted fashion; or being, as we say, unstoppable and unable to be warded against and kept at bay (Death, after all, as with the onrushing maw of Nightfall – an Inevitability); or, at the risk of being somewhat ‘heterodox’ myself – noting that the Tongue is a ‘bridge’ , a ‘conduit’ of its own : one which does not simply go ‘up’ in the manner of consuming, but also radiates back out in the sense of communing.

It is fitting, we might suggest, that the same Tongue which is so all-pervasive in power and conquest against the demons (including the seemingly insurmountable Raktabija) … well, it is the significant organ in many ways for the production of Speech.

And, as we know – there is no mightier weapon in all of the universe. Not least because that is precisely what the universe is.

In short – we are used to hearing about these two salient features: Kali standing over Shiva (as Shava), and with Her Tongue Protruding out … with each as emblematic of Her being ‘limited’, ‘disempowered’, and otherwise ‘submissive’.

Yet upon closer and more perspicacious insightful inspection – we find it is the exact opposite. Kali is not ‘limited’ nor ‘disempowered’ – She is the Limitless [you shall recognize the Sanskrit theonymic reference there – Aditi] and Empowering. And standing tall in the opposite of a ‘submissive’ posture – yet at the same time, tacitly enabling Her Consort to also begin to Rise to Stand Up (and thence, of course, to dance) with Her in Union.

Jai Mata Di

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duke-nitro · 8 months

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I can't stop thinking about Dark Crisis Young Justice, it's bad in a truly fascinating way. It's a book trying to critique a beloved comic, which normally I'd be down for, but the author seemingly hadn't read past (at least part of) the first issue and based all the critique points off of the covers of the first five issues.

Like Cissie's explanation for leaving the team being that she (and the other female characters) were totally overshadowed by Robin, Superboy, and Impulse, which is funny bc that's true in the fandom, but in the actual book she's arguably the main character. I'm fairly certain that bit is based on a combo of fandom and the "no girls allowed" cover, which is just a joke bc they let them in the team immediately in the actual issue.

Other things of note being the villain of the mini being a Mr Mxyptlk callback who is the only antagonist to be on the cover of the first 4 issues, the lack of even a passing reference to any of the other teammates, Mighty Endowed being painted as a generic sex appeal character and not an obvious parody of them, and my personal favorite, Baron Bedlam's cameo courtesy of googling "young justice bedlam" and seeing the version him from the cartoon.

The most interesting part, though, is that Secret and Harm are on that first set of covers... but if you haven't read the series, you couldn't be blamed for thinking they were one-off characters bc they'd never really done anything after that run, and the fandom is tends to be pretty Core Four (read: Tim and Kon) focused so that wouldn't help you learn about Secret's plot or literally anything about Empress.

Now, the original run has it's fair share of problems that I'd love to see addressed in a comic but it's gotta be by someone who's invested in it, and not bc they got saddled with it since they're writing the Tim Drake ongoing and got handed the keys for the rest of the set.

#dc comics #young justice #cissie king jones #kon el #tim drake #bart allen #cassie sandsmark #anita fite #greta hayes #Also the mini just doesn't acknowledge that Cassie was the leader of the team

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eldritch-spouse · 1 year

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NO I GOTTA KNOW WHAT THE ICONS DO WITH THE PENIS TERROR. I NEED IT (Dunno what about Vorti but I'm sure you'll find a way)

[I hate this so much. *wheezing*]

PENIS PANIC PART 2 - Eletric Boogaloo

TW: Noncon

Rinx just holds your limp form in his hands. What happened? He's clean, he's healthy, what did you see that was so frightening? Are you just not used to the color or were your previous partners really that small? You poor thing, he feels bad for you, you deserve an endowed partner like him. It's quite funny you didn't pass out when he fingered you, considering the size of his digits...

Kalymir laughs so hard he nearly busts a rib. No seriously, he might laugh himself into an early grave. He knows he's mighty in every sense of the word, but you're such a little pussy. Afraid he'll flare the spikes on his knot? HAH. Maybe he won't tell you he can retract them, just to see you squirm like a worm on a hook. What are you going to do next time, faint again? He'll die of laughter, you'll never be allowed to forget those moments.

Vesper honestly gets it. You're not the first one to faint, unfortunately. In his younger years, he was a little too eager to flaunt his package, and some of his partners just weren't ready. It hasn't happened in a while though. Still flatters him though. Much like Santi, he'll first pull the trick where you're not allowed to see any of his cocks, then he'll introduce you to the tendril, which is the least imposing of the bunch. You can work your way up to the big boys, right?

Zizz almost wonders if he got overexcited and his influence made you fall asleep. Doesn't seem to be the case. Well, he is the second largest Icon of Hell, so he kind of understands the fear... If you had stayed awake, Zizz could have happily explained that looks can be deceiving. Nevertheless, sleep never stopped the Icon of Sloth from enjoying a lover, so you're getting fondled and humped at regardless.

Livius deflates. Yeah okay, he gets the shape might be a little different from what you're used to as a human but... Come on, that's- That's no way to react! He doesn't even know how to feel now. Was that bad?? Was that good???? If only he had a stupid, simple, dumb human cock- What type of dicks are you into? Where's your phone? There's probably some type of lead there, he needs to FIX THIS right now.

Cero doesn't really know if he should feel flattered or insulted at first. After all, he's definitely perfect for you, maybe it was all the excitement in your little head, hm? You know you'll never have better than him, you know he's going to blow your mind when he fucks you, and that was just too much, wasn't it? Ha! Oh, what a rush- Better wake up inamorata, he can't wait much longer after you teased him like that.

Vorticia puts you back on the bed, goes outside to have a smoke, and thinks about what in the ever living fuck that was supposed to mean back there.

#Vesper oc #Vorticia oc #Livius oc #Kalymir oc #Rinx oc #Zizz oc #Cero oc #mellsfern

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dreamonseems · 1 year

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King Haaland Part 3

Erling Haaland X Female Reader

Summary: Reader is brought to Norway as a slave, and Erling buys her.

Literally have been so busy working. I have two jobs now, so I have time for nothing, so I'm so sorry for taking forever to update!

As the first light of dawn kissed the room, casting a gentle glow upon our intertwined bodies, I slowly awakened, basking in the warmth and security of King Haaland's embrace. It was a sensation unlike any other, a rare and precious moment where time seemed to stand still. Against all reason and logic, I found solace in his arms, a sense of serenity that permeated every fiber of my being.

Gently disentangling myself from his grasp, I marveled at the sight before me. King Haaland lay there, his features softened by the tendrils of sleep that still clung to him. His chiseled jawline, normally strong and defined, now appeared relaxed, his lips slightly parted in peaceful repose. It was in these moments, when the world was hushed and dreams still held sway, that I allowed myself to truly observe him.

His bright, tousled hair framed his face, falling in gentle waves across his forehead. The rugged stubble that adorned his jawline hinted at the wild spirit that resided within him, a reflection of his Viking heritage. As I traced the contours of his face with my eyes, I couldn't help but marvel at the craftsmanship of the gods, who had endowed him with such striking features. It was as if they had sculpted him from the very essence of masculinity, creating a masterpiece that exuded both strength and vulnerability.

I held my breath, not wanting to disturb the tranquility that enveloped the room. My gaze lingered on his strong, yet serene, expression, captivated by the slumbering king before me. In this moment of intimacy, I couldn't deny the undeniable pull that tugged at my heartstrings, the inexplicable connection that had grown between us.

It was an unusual occurrence for me to awaken before him, as King Haaland was known for his early rising. But last night, he had indulged in the pleasures of the evening, savoring every sip of Mead that had flowed freely.

As I continued to observe him, I marveled at the duality he possessed. The mighty ruler who commanded armies and governed his people, now revealed a vulnerability in slumber. It was a vulnerability that he rarely displayed in the wakefulness of day, hidden beneath a veneer of authority and power. In this moment, he was stripped bare, both physically and emotionally, his true self laid bare before me.

In the depths of my heart, a whirlwind of emotions stirred. I felt a strange blend of tenderness and fascination, a concoction that defied reason and expectation. It was as if the walls that I had so carefully constructed around my heart were beginning to crumble, and I found myself teetering on the precipice of something unknown.

A sense of gratitude washed over me, for the opportunity to witness this side of King Haaland, for the privilege of sharing this fleeting moment with him. It was a sight I would carry with me, etched into the deepest recesses of my memory, a reminder of the complexities and contradictions that made him who he was.

And so, I remained there, silently drinking in his presence, savoring each minute. In this quiet interlude, I allowed myself to hope, to dream of a future where our lives intertwined, where the boundaries that separated us would fade away, and where love could conquer the seemingly insurmountable odds that lay before us.

A faint blush spread across my cheeks as King Haaland's voice, laced with sleep, broke the stillness of the morning. Startled, I shifted my gaze from his serene face, feeling caught in the act of my silent admiration. His eyes, heavy-lidded and filled with mischief, met mine, and a mischievous grin played upon his lips.

"You know it is not good to stare at a king without permission," Haaland's voice rumbled, laced with a hint of drowsiness.

I stumbled over my words, attempting to respond, "You're awake...?"

"Yes, my dear, I am indeed awake," he teased, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down my spine. He drew me closer into his protective embrace, the warmth of his body seeping into mine. It was a sensation I had come to cherish, a sanctuary that banished the worries of the world beyond these walls.

A playful glint danced in his eyes as he continued, his words dripping with playful arrogance. "Do not worry, Little One, it is only natural for you to be captivated by my handsome face. I am aware of the effect I have on people, feel free to keep looking, " he quipped, a knowing smirk gracing his handsome features. I couldn't help but push against his shoulder, feigning annoyance at his audacity. However, deep down, I relished in his closeness, allowing him to draw me.

A soft smile escaped my lips as I nuzzled against his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart soothing my own. "Ah, it is almost as if you enjoy provoking me and testing my patience, my king," I murmured playfully, my voice barely a whisper against his chest. It was a dance we had perfected, this playful banter that kept our hearts light even amidst the weight of our roles.

Haaland's chuckle resonated in his chest, a sound with a blend of amusement and adoration. His lips grazed my forehead, leaving a tender kiss, and he spoke with a sincerity that melted my heart. "You're right, my little one. I do owe you an apology for the events of the day before. Consider it my way of making amends. Today, I have a surprise in store for you, a little outing to sweep you off your feet," he revealed, his voice laced with determination and a touch of excitement.

Curiosity danced in my eyes as I looked up at him, captivated by his every word. The promise of an adventure tingled in the air, stirring a sense of excitement within me. I couldn't resist the playful response that escaped my lips. "Oh, so this is your way of distracting me from being upset with you?" I teased, a hint of laughter in my voice.

His laughter, deep and rich, resonated in the room as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. "Perhaps, my dear. But I assure you, it will be an outing worth remembering, a gesture to remind you of my devotion to you," he whispered, his words like a caress against my skin.

A surge of affection welled up within me, mingling with the intrigue that his surprise held. I knew, in that moment, that this man, with all his complexities and contradictions, had captured my heart. And so, I nestled even closer to him, a contented smile gracing my lips as I eagerly awaited the adventure that awaited us beyond the castle walls.

As the anticipation coursed through my veins, I readied myself for the much-awaited outing with King Haaland. It was a moment filled with excitement, as we were about to venture beyond the fortress walls together for the very first time. Stepping outside, my eyes met with the sight of Haaland patiently waiting for me, his presence exuding a mixture of regality and eagerness.

"We are taking Skjell? What about Magni?" I questioned, slightly perplexed by the sight of Haaland alongside Skjell, a horse I had grown fond of. Magni, his trusty companion, was typically the steed that carried him on his adventures. The unexpected change piqued my curiosity, prompting me to seek an explanation.

Haaland's eyes twinkled with warmth as he responded, "Celine informed me of the special bond you share with Skjell. I thought it would be fitting for us to ride him today. Additionally, I saw this as an opportunity to teach you how to ride properly." His words resonated with a touch of wisdom and consideration, revealing his thoughtfulness behind the decision.

A flicker of pride surged within me at the mention of my equestrian skills. "I know how to ride!" I protested, my tone laced with a hint of defensiveness. Yet, Haaland's hearty laughter reverberated through the air, causing me to pause. "Not very well, little one. Celine may have mentioned a few instances where you almost found yourself unseated," he confessed, his amusement unabated.

A playful spark ignited in my eyes as I retorted, "Does Celine share every secret of mine with you? I believe we need to have a some words." I emphasized my words dramatically, feigning indignation at the thought of my confidante divulging my mishaps. Haaland chuckled, his laughter a warm melody that melted away any lingering frustration.

"Enough of that, my dear. Let us set such matters aside for now. We have a beautiful day ahead of us," he insisted, his voice brimming with gentle authority. With a tender gesture, he extended his hand, offering me support as I climbed onto Skjell's back. Once settled, Haaland gracefully mounted the horse behind me, his presence serving as a steadfast anchor amidst the unknown.

As Skjell's powerful muscles rippled beneath us, I felt a sense of unity, a shared purpose that bound us together. Haaland's arms encircled me, providing a secure embrace as we embarked on this shared adventure. The wind kissed my face, carrying with it a thrill of liberation and the promise of a day filled with discoveries.

In that moment, as Skjell carried us forward, I surrendered to the exhilaration of the ride and the infinite possibilities that stretched before us. With each rhythmic stride, I allowed myself to trust in Haaland's guidance, relinquishing any doubt or worry that had previously clung to my heart.

Together, we ventured into the vast tapestry of the world, eager to uncover the wonders that awaited us. It was a journey that transcended mere horseback riding—a journey of trust, companionship, and the forging of a bond that would shape our shared destiny.

The vibrant morning sun cast a golden hue upon the kingdom as Skjell carried us swiftly through the streets. We rode toward the heart of the city, where bustling markets teemed with activity. It was a place that held a significant place in my memory—it was where I first arrived, where the boats sailed in and out, ushering in a constant flow of people and goods. Despite being in this kingdom for some time now, I had rarely ventured that far, except for my initial arrival and the occasional outings with Celine.

Curiosity bubbled within me, and I couldn't resist voicing my question. "Why do you not stay down in the city more often, instead of making the journey down periodically?" I inquired, my words carrying a genuine sense of intrigue. After all, King Haaland had a kingdom to govern, and I wondered what kept him away from the heart of its bustling activity.

A contemplative smile played on Haaland's lips as he gazed ahead, his eyes filled with a fondness for the natural world. "I find solace in being closer to nature," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. "That is why I have my main house up the hill, surrounded by the beauty of the land. It allows me to escape the demands of my kingly duties and reconnect with the essence of life."

His words resonated within me, stirring a longing for a similar connection with nature. The thought of escaping the bustling city, even for a moment, held an allure that tugged at my heart. I realized that Haaland's yearning for nature reflected a deeper part of his character—a longing for simplicity, tranquility, and the serenity found in the embrace of the natural world.

As we made our grand entrance into the city, all eyes turned towards us, the presence of the king commanding attention and respect. People paused in their tracks, their gazes following our path as we rode through the streets. It was a sight to behold, the embodiment of power and authority intertwined with a sense of curiosity and wonder.

Our destination was one of the grandest longhouses, situated near the city center—a place where Haaland's trusted warriors resided and where he carried out his kingly duties during his visits to the city. The familiarity of the surroundings enveloped him as we dismounted from Skjell, our trusted steed, who would be tended to by Sven and his capable hands.

Sven, a loyal warrior in Haaland's service, greeted us with surprise etched across his face. "King Haaland, we weren't expecting you today," he exclaimed, a mix of astonishment and delight in his voice. Haaland's response was laced with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I am taking Y/N on a little adventure today," he announced, his voice carrying a hint of excitement.

Sven chimed in, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "How fortunate for her, or should I say how fortunate for you to spend the day with such a stunning lady, King Haaland." A playful banter unfolded between Sven and Haaland, their words weaving a lighthearted tapestry of camaraderie and jest. King Haaland couldn't resist teasing his trusted friend about his supposed affections for Celine, a revelation that left me astonished.

"Celine? You have feelings for Celine, Sven?" I blurted out, unable to contain my surprise at this unexpected piece of information. Haaland seized the moment, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Oh, Sven, you've landed yourself in trouble now," he taunted, his tone filled with playful reprimand. I quickly reassured him with a promise. "Don't worry, Sven, I won't say a word. But honestly, I think she likes you too," I added, a giggle escaping my lips.

Haaland, seizing the opportunity to redirect the conversation, took my hand in his and guided me towards the bustling market. His words dripped with charm and affection. "Come, Y/N, let's explore the vibrant market together. And Sven, rest assured, I am undoubtedly the lucky one here," he declared, punctuating his statement with a wink that sent a blush creeping across my cheeks.

Together, Haaland and I ventured into the vibrant market, the sounds of bustling activity and the array of colors enveloping us. The air buzzed with energy, as merchants showcased their wares, eager to capture our attention. With Haaland by my side, I felt a sense of invincibility, emboldened by his presence and the unspoken bond that continued to deepen between us.

As we wove through the lively crowd, our fingers intertwined, I couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for the unexpected adventure that lay before me. It was a day filled with laughter, whispers of shared secrets, and stolen glances. And with each passing moment, my heart embraced the realization that I was experiencing something extraordinary—an adventure intertwined with love and the promise of a future that surpassed all my wildest dreams.

As we strolled through the bustling market, our eyes alight with wonder and curiosity, we happened upon a vibrant stall adorned with an exquisite array of fabrics. Each fabric boasted many colors, evoking memories of my homeland and the vibrant tapestry of life I had left behind. The sight stirred something within me, a longing for familiarity and a yearning to preserve a piece of my heritage.

Lost in admiration, I gently reached out to feel the soft textures beneath my fingertips, marveling at the intricate patterns and the craftsmanship that went into creating such beauty. Haaland, ever attentive to my every move, noticed my captivation and broke the silence.

"You like them?" he inquired, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity. I nodded fervently, unable to contain my admiration for the intricate fabrics before me. My hand danced delicately across the array of colors, as if attempting to capture the essence of each fabric within my grasp.

A kind smile graced Haaland's lips as he beheld my genuine delight. "Choose some, Y/N. We will have a few new dresses made for you," he offered, his words laced with a generosity that warmed my heart. I recoiled slightly, hesitant to impose on his generosity. "No, it is fine. You do not have to buy them for me," I replied, my voice tinged with gratitude and a touch of selflessness.

Haaland's smirk, mischievous yet tender, hinted at the determination that resided within him. "If you do not choose, I will buy the whole stall," he declared, a glint of playfulness in his eyes. I huffed in mock protest, knowing all too well that his words were not to be taken lightly. The weight of his devotion and the depth of his affections wrapped around me like a cloak, bringing a sense of joy and contentment that I had never experienced before.

Relenting to his playful challenge, I embraced the opportunity to select a few fabrics that spoke to my soul. With a mixture of excitement, I carefully chose fabrics that captured the essence of my spirit—a blend of vibrant hues and intricate designs.

Though I feigned indifference, deep down, I was overwhelmed with joy. It wasn't merely the fabrics that brought me happiness but the love and thoughtfulness that Haaland bestowed upon me. In his presence, I discovered a newfound appreciation for life's simple pleasures—a touch of fabric, a shared laughter, and the profound connection that bloomed between two souls on an extraordinary journey.

As we continued our exploration through the vibrant market, I clung to the fabrics in my grasp, cherishing them as symbols of love, growth, and the unwavering bond we forged. Each thread and every intricate pattern represented a moment of shared happiness, a testament to the beautiful path we were carving together. As the day unfolded, my heart embraced the notion that even the smallest gestures held the power to weave a profound string of love and belonging.

We meandered through the vibrant market, the sights and sounds envelop us in a whirlwind delight, King Haaland shared stories of the Norse gods and the ancient beliefs that shaped their world. His words echoed through the bustling streets, intertwining with the enchanting melodies of merchants hawking their wares and the aroma of exotic spices that permeated the air. With each step, I soaked in the rich ways of his culture, the echoes of history resonating within me.

We approached the bustling pier, a symphony of activity unfolded before our eyes. Haaland, his presence commanding attention, led me toward a cluster of majestic ships being meticulously crafted for the impending summer raids. The ships stood tall and proud, their sturdy frames a testament to the Viking spirit of adventure and exploration. Haaland's eyes gleamed with anticipation as he discussed their design and the strategic prowess they would lend to his warriors. It was a glimpse into a world of bravery and conquest, a testament to the indomitable spirit that coursed through his veins.

After our exhilarating exploration of the city, we returned to the hall, our hearts brimming with excitement. We collected Skjell, our loyal companion, and embarked on a journey deeper into the lush embrace of the surrounding forest. As the verdant canopy enveloped us, we meandered along a hidden path that led us to an enchanting clearing. There, nestled amidst the towering trees, stood a humble hunter's cabin, its rustic charm a stark contrast to the grandeur of the royal halls.

But it was the breathtaking sight that lay just beyond the cabin that truly stole my breath away—a magnificent waterfall cascading down moss-covered rocks, its crystalline waters shimmering under the dappled sunlight. I stood in awe, my eyes drinking in the mesmerizing beauty that unfolded before me. Nature's masterpiece, painted with hues of azure, stirred something deep within my soul, a reverence for the untamed wonders of the world.

As if sensing my enchantment, Haaland turned to me. "Do you like the surprise?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of pride and eagerness. I could barely contain my excitement as I nodded vigorously, unable to find words to encapsulate the overwhelming beauty that surrounded us.

"It is beautiful, King Haaland," I managed to utter, my voice filled with genuine awe and appreciation. The ethereal scene felt like a secret paradise, a sanctuary hidden from the chaos of the outside world. The air was charged with a palpable sense of calmness, and my heart swelled with gratitude for the opportunity to share this sacred space with the man who had become my anchor in a foreign land.

"Erling," he suddenly said, catching me off guard. I blinked, momentarily confused. "What?" I asked, seeking clarification. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his gaze locked with mine, a spark of intimacy dancing between us. "Call me Erling," he whispered, the words carrying a vulnerability and longing that left me breathless.

His request, spoken with such tenderness, held a profound significance. It signaled a desire for a deeper connection, a shedding of the formalities that had defined our roles until now. In that moment, he invited me to embrace our shared humanity, to traverse the realms of royalty and commonality hand in hand. It was an invitation to bridge the divide and forge a bond that transcended titles and expectations.

With a warmth blooming in my chest, I nodded, a smile of unspoken understanding curving my lips. "Erling," I breathed, feeling the weight of the world shift as I embraced this new chapter in our journey. In that simple exchange, our souls intertwined, entwining our destinies in a book of trust, love, and shared vulnerability.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Haaland's playful suggestion echoed through the air like a sweet melody. "Come, let's go for a swim," he grinned, his excitement contagious. My cheeks flushed with bashfulness. "What? No," I protested, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me.

But Haaland's laughter reverberated through the air, soothing my self-consciousness. "Do not be afraid, little one. Come, let us have some fun," he reassured me, his voice laced with a magnetic charm that melted away my inhibitions. With his clothes discarded and abandoned on the shore, he dove into the crystalline water, a jubilant splash punctuating his descent.

I watched him, unable to contain my amusement, as he frolicked and splashed like a carefree child, his kingly aura momentarily forgotten. In that moment, he shed the weight of his crown, revealing a side of him that was joyful, unrestrained, and utterly captivating. His laughter filled the air, mingling with the gentle lapping of the waves, and I found myself drawn to the magnetic pull of his infectious energy.

A spark of defiance flickered within me, casting aside my reservations and hesitations. I shook my head, a playful huff escaping my lips, and finally surrendered to the irresistible lure of the water. I began to remove my dress, feeling Erling's eyes fixed on me intently. Our gazes locked, an unspoken connection formed, and the world around us seemed to fade into the background.

Piece by piece, I shed the layers that adorned me, each movement purposeful and deliberate. The fabric slipped from my shoulders, revealing the nightgown that lay beneath my dress. A teasing thought danced on the edge of my lips, contemplating whether I should shed that layer as well. Laughter bubbled up within me, lightening the atmosphere, and with newfound confidence, I dashed towards the water's edge.

As I plunged into the inviting embrace of the water, a delightful shiver coursed through me, electrifying my senses. The coolness enveloped my body, refreshing and rejuvenating, while laughter spilled from my lips like a symphony of joy. Haaland's presence beside me further amplified the exuberance of the moment, as we splashed and played in the gentle waves, our laughter merging harmoniously with the sounds of nature.

In that timeless oasis, beneath the boundless sky and surrounded by the serenity of nature, we cast aside the weight of our responsibilities. The roles that defined us faded, replaced by the simple pleasures of shared laughter and carefree abandon. We were no longer a king and a commoner but two souls intertwined in a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.

As we frolicked in the water, our eyes met, a silent understanding passing between us. In that unspoken exchange, a flicker of something deeper ignited, a fire that danced with the possibility of connection and desire. The playful surface of the water mirrored the playfulness of our spirits, but beneath the surface, an undercurrent of intensity and longing pulsed, yearning to be explored.

In that sun-kissed paradise, surrounded by the glistening water and the melodic whispers of nature, we embraced the freedom to be ourselves, to revel in the sheer joy of the present moment. And as our laughter echoed through the air, we wove a memory that would never be forgotten in our minds.

With an impish grin, I mustered all my strength and playfully pushed Erling, causing him to stumble backward into the water. In an instant, he retaliated by grabbing hold of me and pulling me into his arms. The water splashed around us as we engaged in a spirited aquatic dance, reminiscent of children playing tag. Our laughter resonated through the air, echoing the joy we felt in each other's presence.

As our playful antics subsided, a gentle calm settled upon us. Our eyes locked, and I noticed a profound shift in Erling's gaze. It was as if a tempest of emotions swirled within him, his stare piercing through my soul. A shiver coursed through my body, goosebumps forming on my skin in response to the intensity of his look.

Slowly, Erling's hand reached up to tenderly tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. His touch was gentle, yet electrifying, as his fingers traced a delicate path along my cheek. My breath caught in my throat as his voice, barely above a whisper, filled the space between us. "Beautiful. You are beautiful," he murmured, the words seemingly escaping him before he could filter them. In that moment, his vulnerability and sincerity intertwined, casting a spell that enveloped us both.

Without hesitation, Erling leaned in, bridging the remaining distance between us. His lips met mine in a tender, heartfelt kiss. Surprise initially swept through me, but it quickly dissipated, giving way to a rush of warmth that flooded my being. I melted into the embrace, savoring each passing second, as if time itself had paused to witness the blossoming connection between us.

In that stolen moment, amidst the enchanting embrace of the water and the symphony of our mingling breaths, something profound transpired. The touch of his lips against mine spoke volumes, expressing sentiments that words could never fully capture. It was a kiss born out of unspoken desires, a meeting of souls that longed to intertwine.

Every sensation was amplified, every heartbeat a symphony. The world around us faded into insignificance, leaving only the intoxicating taste of his lips, the rhythmic cadence of our shared breaths, and the warmth of his embrace. It was a stolen fragment of time, a stolen fragment of eternity, where nothing else mattered except the undeniable connection we forged in that sacred space.

As the kiss lingered, a soft sigh escaped my lips, an unspoken affirmation of the burgeoning emotions that coursed through me. It was a moment of surrender, of giving in to the undeniable pull between us. In that embrace, I found solace, passion, and a profound sense of belonging.

We eventually pulled away, our eyes locking once again. The world around us came rushing back, yet we remained immersed in the cocoon of our shared moment. The air crackled with unspoken promises, as if the universe itself conspired to bring us together.

In that tranquil oasis, amidst the whispers of the water and the beating of our hearts, we stood intertwined, forever changed by the depth of the day. And as we savored the lingering taste of that stolen kiss, we embarked on a new life filled with love, trust, learning, acceptance. A path that would lead us to a destiny filled with a greatness that I never could have imagined.

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radioactive-earthshine · 3 months

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Young Justice Knowledge Check #14

Note: This is for the Young Justice 1998 comics and the comics alone. Yes, there is a correct answer.

#young justice #young justice 1998 #cissie king jones #mature warning just in case #polls #knowledge check

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fearandhatred · 8 months

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i am intrigued by what goes down in that's the pain, if u wanna share :p

IT'S THE BIBLE FIC! this was basically a fic inspired by the origin of love from hedwig and the angry inch (my favourite musical of all time if u even care) written like a book from the bible lol. the working name for what the book itself would be called was Apochorismós

the rough summary is that in the beginning, all the angels in heaven had two/three/four heads/pairs of limbs/wings depending on their rank. crowley and aziraphale were one being in heaven, but because of lucifer's sin, god split all the angels apart and sent half of them (the demons) down, and removed all the memories of both the angels and demons from before. the fic is just them finding their way back to each other!

a snippet:

⁷But on an indiscriminate day, the day to eclipse all days, an angel spoke out against the Lord, for he had pondered his position in heaven and deemed the rule of God to be insufficient. ⁸And he, Lucifer, angel of the highest order, with his two pairs of wings and eyes and arms and legs, said unto the other angels: "The Lord claims that He extends his grace to all beings, for He is mighty, and the one true God to rule over all others. But who has determined it to be so? ⁹He has endowed us with knowledge, and knowledge seeks change, and unto us what follows shall be the natural order of things. And so I will ascend to the throne, above God and the stars, and all of creation shall play by my hand." ¹⁰And God heard of the words of the angel Lucifer, and burned with righteous fury. ¹¹"I am displeased," God said unto all the angels, "for you have sinned. A sin come upon one who remains unquestioned is a sin upon all, and for this sin you shall be ripped apart, for cursed now is the sacred ground on which you walk. ¹²"This is your punishment: through strength and defiance you have separated yourselves, and only through strength and defiance shall you return."

and a lil bit of crowley and aziraphale in the garden:

¹⁹The serpent felt injustice at his words, but did not speak against them. "Perhaps it was the plan to have you give away your sword," he said, in sarcasm. "And when His plan has finally been fulfilled, may that fill the unsettling emptiness and misery within my belly." ²⁰''You feel that as well, then?" The angel asked, surprised, as he had felt the same for all the days of heaven and also as guardian of the gate. "It is worse with you near."

#fearandhatred #fearandasks #fearandfics #thank u for the ask!! i'm having so much fun with this #tag game #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #good omens fanfic #good omens fic #writing

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secretsocietyxmen · 29 days

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Was watching some retrospectives on the Marvel Ultimate Alliance games, and then remembered my old idea for a Young Justice game based on the Ultimate Alliance series.

Felt like fleshing it out.

Opening level is Happy Harbor, where the Core Four (Tim, Kon, Bart, and Cassie) are meeting up for lunch to catch up. Then, villain attack. The tutorial boss is The Mighty Endowed (someone minor and easy to beat, but could make for a fun fight with her mind control powers), causing the group to suit up to take her out.

This level is more or less disconnected from the main plot, where Bedlam returns to get his revenge. His plan? Teleporting away all of the adult heroes, controlling all of the villains of Earth, and trying to wear down Young Justice. So, they get the gang back together, along with some loose heroes they pick up along the way, and make their way to beat up Bedlam one more time.

Playable Young Justice members:

Robin (Tim Drake)

Superboy (Kon El/Conner Kent)

Impulse (Bart Allen)

Wonder Girl (Cassie Sandsmark)

Secret (Greta Hayes)

Arrowette (Cissie King-Jones)

Empress (Anita Fite)

Amethyst (Amaya/Amy Winston)

Jinny Hex

Teen Lantern (Keli Quintela)

Powerhouse (Naomi McDuffie)

Additional Heroes (so far):

Sideways (Derek James)

Aqualad (Jackson Hyde)

Static (Virgil Hawkins)

Bunker (Miguel Barragan)

Batgirl (Cassandra Cain)

Crush (Xiomara Rojas)

Djinn

Equinox (Miiyahbin Marten)

#dc comics #young justice #young just us #tim drake #kon el #bart allen #cassie sandsmark #marvel ultimate alliance

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cornerstoreclown · 2 years

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Devoted

Summary: This is a short one-shot (2032 words approx.) where the reader (Gender Neutral) is giving Art a blowjob. Yes, the reader is wholly gender neutral, we don’t know what setup they got, nor do we need to know, because they’re only sucking his dick. Men, women, my fellow nonbinary folks like myself and anyone else who in my empty-headedness neglected to mention, this is an ode to you. If this is something that captivates your interest, then I hope you like it.

Warnings/Contents: Clothed sex, consensual choking, breathplay, blowjobs, face-fucking. The reader is a little twisted like Art.

Author’s notes: More clothed sex because I want Art in his clothes. This time, there’s a hidden zipper in the front that goes all the way down. I’m playing with his outfit. I love/hate that single clown suit. I love it because it’s nice, I hate it because I want him out of the clothes yet in it. Up next in the NSFW corner is a male AND female version fic with Art. I’m making a buffet here, and I hope you all will attend if it catches your fancy. Thank you for your continued support!

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If your friends found out what you were up to, they’d probably never think of you the same way again. Or maybe they’d expect it from you. Your parents? Whether you talked to them or not, didn’t matter. They also didn’t need to know about this, whether you kept them in your life or not. You know for certain that strangers would find you fucked up in the head, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care about anyone’s judgment, and the only reason why you kept it quiet that you were frequently intimate with the Miles County Clown from those you did know and trust, is because it would simply be less messy if they didn’t know.

You’re sitting on the floor on your knees with his cock in your mouth right now, and by god, it’s the best damn cock you’ve ever had in your life. Art’s a big fellow, he’s surprisingly well endowed, and you’ve been made aware of it from the time you first saw him get hard when he was bashing someone’s brains in and you were there to watch it. You couldn’t stop staring, not at the gore, but at his dick. There was a distinct outline against the black and white of his outfit, and when he was finally done with his victim, you vividly recall offering to tend to him.

And he let you, all the while covered in bits and smears of formerly living people. You didn’t give a shit–You sucked him off right then and there, zipping down that hidden zipper on the front of his costume and got right to work.

Just like you’re doing now, like your own life depended on it. And maybe in a way, it did. Maybe if you didn’t do a satisfactory job, you’d just be another addition to his kill count. The thought of that creates a sick and twisted churn of excitement in your gut as you’re on your knees before him, the front of his clown suit zipped all the way down so you have access to what’s important. He’s leaning against his workbench, one hand on the table to keep himself grounded. The other hand is on you. On the back of your head.

You feel the way that his fingers, caked with dried blood, massages at the back of your skull. You find it soothing as you tend to him, wrapping your lips around the length of his shaft and bobbing your head up and down expertly. You pull your head back and give a kiss to the head of his cock, pushing your tongue in around the edges of his foreskin before hungrily lapping the tip of any precome. You glance up at him through your lashes, and you feel the way that his gaze focuses on you. You’re beneath him right now, servicing him, tending to him, like the good self proclaimed lover that you are.

Judging by how he’s clenching his hand into a fist on top of the table, you’d like to think that you’re doing a mighty fine job.

Art always knew how to make your toes curl, he knew how to get your eyes to roll to the back of your skull as pleasure would consume you. He knew what made you tick and he often took advantage of that very fact. As cruel as he was, he was caring in his own way, remembering everything about you and what you liked, what you didn’t. Each and every time the both of you went at it, he was always able to deliver you to completion.

In French, there’s an expression for orgasm. La petite mort–The brief loss or weakening of consciousness. It was a likening post orgasm to the sensation of death. Literally, it translates to ‘the little death’.

Art’s killed you many times in that regard, then.

It’s only fair you returned the favor every so often.

You didn’t use weapons or knives to unwind the threads of him piece by piece. You used yourself. Your body. And he would always look as if he were being tortured all the same, as if you had beaten him and hurt him.

He’s making the ugliest expression right now–brows furrowed, wrinkles on his face as he holds a snarl with his exposed teeth as you’ve since moved from his cock to his balls, shamelessly dragging your tongue up and down before sucking on the skin of one, all the while using your hand to deftly stroke his length with a pace fast enough to keep him stimulated without pushing him over the edge too soon–which has happened before. He’s gotten a little too excited too quickly in the past.

You hum to yourself in amusement.

He’s so pretty like this, at your mercy, weak to his desires, just like every mortal being was. He wasn’t mortal nor from this plane, but to know that he could be humbled in such a rather ordinary way was a relief. It was in these moments that you both could be on a little more of an equal playing ground, despite how you both know that he was so much stronger than you, and you’ve been reminded of it plenty of times in the past during the times he’s choked you, specifically because you asked him to.

You loved it when he was rough with you, you loved to see just how restrained he could be, and how those hands of his that snuffed out so many lives continue to hold yours so mindfully. It felt like this odd kind of praise without the usage of any words, knowing that you were different.

Who else could say that they’ve gotten to suck a killer clown’s dick? No one else. Only you. You’re moving from his balls back up to the shaft, leaving lewd little kisses and sucking the tip again, mindful to continue to give him gentle strokes.

You can’t see his expressions right now–his head is tilted back, he’s clearly in bliss. You’re diligent at your job nevertheless. This is what you loved to do. In another vein, you’ve had some unprompted thoughts manifest in your mind telling you that it’s what you were meant to do. You knew the moment that you laid your eyes on him a few Halloweens ago that you had to have him, and you would, one way or another. You made sure to seek him out each Halloween, expressing your interest to him. It was a long courtship that spanned over years, and you’ve since changed as a person quite a bit with every year, but this part of you–this part has stayed the same.

He’s hard in your hand, and you can feel the pulse and warmth radiate from him in such a way that you know that you can’t tease him for much longer. When you pull away slightly to get one more look up at him from a better angle, you find yourself stopped as the hand that’s still resting at the back of your skull keeps you from getting too far.

When you glance up, you see that the clown’s gaze is fixed on you. There’s a recognizable gleam in them that makes your heart skip a bit.

Maybe the time for teasing was already over, and you just didn't realize it.

You’re not given any warning as he seizes your head with both hands on each side. No longer was he holding the back of your head, or relying on the table behind him for support. He now has to support himself for what he is intending on doing and you can only go along with it.

And you’re delighted by that.

You’re in tune with him to know that when he’s bringing you back to his cock, that you’re supposed to open your mouth, which you obediently do. You open wide enough for him so that when he brings your face back to his groin, you feel him slide all the way back in, only he continues to push his full length in until he touches the back of your throat and you’re holding back a gag. You feel the way that he takes a second to pat the side of your face a couple times. A praise.

Art looks down upon you, and while you can’t see it as your nose is pressed right to his groin, you can somehow feel it. You can feel how attentive he is at watching you beneath him. You try to move your head back a bit, but he stops you, keeping your face right where it is as you steady yourself. You hold on for as long as you can, your breathing obstructed until you give him a gentle hit to his thigh indicating for him to let you pull back, and he makes you wait another second before relenting. When he slides out of your mouth, you’re gasping for air, desperate to fill your lungs. Art’s only wickedly smiling, teeth bared, delighted in seeing you struggle.

You only get a few breaths before he’s bringing you back in, and you take in the full length of his shaft again. He repeats this a few times until you’re dizzy, but you love it. You love being used, you love being his fucktoy, his mortal plaything, set to his whims and desires, whatever they might be, and even if one day he wanted to rip you apart and tear you into pieces, it would be an honor.

The next time that he allows you to pull away and get oxygen back into your lungs, you’re deepthroating him again, but it’s short lived. Still holding onto your head with his hands, he pushes your head back, then pulls you in, then back. Repeatedly. Until it’s a rhythm.

You feel the head of his dick hit the back of your throat when during one of those times he meets you with a thrust, and you nearly gag again, tears welling in the corner of your eyes as they’re shut tight. You simply press your hands into both of his thighs and dig your fingers in to keep yourself steady as you let him fuck your face.

He’s got a steady pace going, and he stops a few times to let you breathe, but it’s becoming increasingly apparent that he’s getting close as he speeds up. You feel the way that drool has been slipping past your lips and dripping down your chin and to the floor beneath you.

Suddenly, you feel him pull you in one last time, and you brace yourself as he gives one final thrust, and once again you take all of him. A few seconds pass as you’re held there, and you feel the warmth of his release at the back of your throat. You have no choice but to swallow as you feel the seconds ticking by and your breath slowly slipping away. You remain there for as long as you can, even after he’s finished, before you pull yourself back in a coughing and hacking mess. You couldn’t even taste it when it went down. Art allows you to break away, merely watching as you’re recovering, wiping away the tears that were in your eyes, then the drool.

“Ahh… fuck.” You sigh, giving a single sniffle. You feel the gentle pat of Art’s hand on the top of your head. A job well done.

You give a weary laugh, glancing upwards at him.

“Glad you approve.”

As you feel your body start to settle and wind down, you notice the look in Art’s eyes as he’s making eye contact, then at the rest of your body, then at your eyes again.

“Art–”

He leans down, and pushes you in the chest with just enough force that you fall right on your back. It doesn’t hurt, you were already on the ground anyway to begin with. It happens in such a fashion you’re able to not hit your head on the way down.

“Hey!”

As you try and prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, you see that he’s descending over you.

It’s your turn now, apparently.

And you feel a flush across your face.

#art the clown #terrifier #art the clown x reader #art the clown x you #coulrophilia #minors DNI #slasher x you #slasher x reader #long post #I wrote this through a first degree burn on my entire arm nothing is stopping me #Not even hot soup #my love for what I do is too great #canon x reader

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cult-of-buc-ee-official · 1 month

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My niece got this for her birthday and I'm jealous

SISTER TURTLE WE CONGRATULATE YOUR NIECE ON HAVING PARTAKEN IN THE BLESSED BEAVER ENDOWMENT CEREMONY SHE WILL SURELY BE A MIGHTY QUEEN IN THE TERRESTRIAL PARADISE TO COME BUT YOU REALLY SHOULD NOT BE DISPLAYING THE MAGIC UNDERWEAR TEMPLE GARMENTS SO PUBLICLY WHERE PROFANE EYES MAY LOOK UPON THEM SO CASUALLY!

REGARDLESS, SHOULD YOU WISH IT YOU SHOULD MAKE PILGRIMAGE TO A TEMPLE OF LORD BUC AND RECEIVE A GARMENT OF YOUR OWN SUCH THAT HIS BLESSED BEAVER FACE MAY PROTECT YOUR MODESTY AS WELL, LONG MAY HE SHELTER YOU BENEATH HIS TAIL

FREEESH BRISKET ON THE BOOAAARD 🙏🏼🦫

#Buc-ee's #Texas #The Cult of Buc-ee #FREEESH BRISKET ON THE BOOAAARD 🙏🏼🦫

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flowers-of-io · 7 months

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“Masks are meant to conceal, but they reveal more about us than we realize.” —Eva Levante

Read on Ao3

Enina and her Ghost sat on the patio of a small café in the Riverside district, watching the evening lights of the City flicker on the water. It was a picturesque spot: the river coiled here around a small peninsula, barely large enough for a few buildings stuck closely together, and two bridges reached out from it diagonally in opposite directions. The venue was almost empty this late into the evening, and nobody but them braved to sit outside in the damp October chill, but far out on the other bank silhouettes of people still moved against the pale lights of shopping windows.

A gust of wind tugged at Enina’s hair, blowing some of them into her face. She was a beautiful woman, with dark skin, full lips and green eyes framed by sharp, regal features. Black curls spilled freely over the scarf around her neck and the suede coat underneath. The hands she was warming around a mug of mulled wine were slender and long-fingered, several rings shimmering on them in the lanternlight. She looked just on the right side of unapproachable—like someone who could lounge on a divan in a dark corner, observing the party with sharp eyes, and nobody would dare to come up and bother her for the extent for the night, even if only to offer champagne.

All of this made her a perfect disguise.

“‘Remembering the dead’ my ass” Immaru said. “It’s not like Guardians need an excuse to shoot at things. It’s fucking stupid.”

Savathûn looked at him with amusement.

“Don’t you find it even a little fascinating how similar their views on mortality are to ours?”

“Duh, where?” He sneered, his (stolen) Almost Mighty Shell tilting to one side. “I don’t recall the Hive runnin’ around firing guns at pumpkins.”

“I’ve told you before about how the Hive see death.” She gently rocked the mug and watched a slice of orange rise to the surface and ruin the image of the Traveler-less sky reflected in it. “Our mythoi are not so different, at the heart of it. The Hive believe soulfire is the immortal part of a person, the connection to the Sea of Screams, but unlike one’s Ascendant form, it can’t be destroyed so easily. Death is only and forever an ending, but the essence persists… Funny, when you think about it, that something endowed to us by the worm gods is at the core of our faith in the afterlife.”

“Isn’t that heresy?”

“Don’t underestimate the Hive’s proficiency in warping the tenets of the sword logic to accommodate our existential fears,” her mouth quirked. “How different is our faith in one’s continued existence through their legacy from the Human beliefs in remembering as a way to keep the dead living on? The Unseen Sister is a comforting alternative to perpetual oblivion.”

“So you’re saying that Oryx’s soul, or whatever, is still somewhere out there?” Immaru said incredulously.

“Perhaps.” Savathûn raised the mug to her lips. “That is my sister’s copium of choice, anyhow.”

The Ghost rolled his eye.

“From what these two nerds have gathered, either Human myths are stupid as fuck, or they are stupid as fuck. Did you know they believe it’s Hive magic that’s creating those… Headless Ones? I don’t think that Fallen’s ever seen a Hive in her entire life.”

Savathûn cocked an eyebrow at him. “Well, dear. What can we learn from that?”

“That Guardians are only interested in loot and candy?” Immaru sneered.

“A culture’s ghost stories can tell us much about its people’s fears.”

“Yeah, and they’re afraid of four meters tall ghouls with flaming pumpkins for heads.”

“And Hive bodies,” she pointed out.

“...Fair point,” he acquiesced.

“I expected you to feel flattered by this,” Savathûn’s smile flickered deep in her eyes. “They’re afraid of us. What an advantage that is!”

Immaru grumbled, and there was the smallest hint of fluster in it. “Yeah, well. That was pretty obvious, wasn’t it.”

“Oh, my love,” she crooned in a honey-sweet voice, and reached for him. It felt strange—five soft fingers wrapping around his core, a small hand cupping his shell. Immaru let her stroke his spikes for a while, some very Hive emotion on her face that the Human features struggled to convey. He freed himself when he could no longer stand her piercing gaze.

He nestled between her neck and the folds of her scarf instead, pressed against her pulse. It throbbed with the illusion of a human heartbeat, but underneath it he could sense the familiar rhythm of her Hive heart, growing louder and more defined the more he focused on it. Savathûn raised a hand and stroked the rim of his shell. He shuddered and bristled, at first, but then leaned into the touch and let it press him closer to her strange, warm, false skin.

He wasn’t jealous of what Runi had with Ór. He would die if his Lightbearer kept him around so close he might’ve as well been her extra body part, with no room to breathe. Did that guy even have hobbies? He seemed to be tied to her like algae in lichen, in something that was supposed to be symbiosis but turned out as him fretting and flying around after her to get her ass out of her own trouble. Immaru could never do that. He was self-sufficient, he’d been self-sufficient for centuries, and nothing about him had changed only because he’d finally found his chosen corpse. Savathûn could do whatever she wanted for all he cared, and the more space she left him to focus on his own thing, the better for them both. He was his own person, and he could very much fend for himself.

He’d also missed her.

He’d missed her laughter and her velvety voice, her songs and stories and the way she tipped her head back when she was amused. He’d missed not falling asleep alone. He’d missed her, and he was furious at Guardians for taking her from him so soon and leaving him to pick up the pieces, and he was furious at her for trading him away—because he could never have refused, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to refuse anything she’d ask of him, anything at all. He was furious at himself for feeling like this. He was more than a dog on her fancy leash; she could have everyone else wrapped around her talon, but she still needed him, and it had still been his decision—his own, he’d made this choice himself, and even if he’d done it for her sake... well, what gives?

He hated the thought that he needed her back. But she was supposed to be his.

Savathûn hummed, a sound from deep within her chest vibrating up her throat and through her skin. Immaru loathed how much it calmed him. If he closed his eye, he could almost pretend they were in the throne world, back in that first week, drunk on the chaos and victory and new purpose and their exquisite scheme ticking on towards resolution. He’d slept in the crook of her neck, and ordered the Brood around perched on her shoulder, and really, really believed they would win. Everything had been set up perfectly. He’d laughed at the contingencies, back then, no matter how serious Savathûn’s eyes had been when she’d made him listen to all of them.

There were so many things he wanted to say to her, most of them angry and jagged and pushing forth to the forefront of his mind with a scream, and the rest insignificant questions like Do you love me and When can I come home. He hadn’t been afraid of telling her anything, before, but now…

They sat in silence, watching the lights gradually go off in one storefront after the other.

“The last time I was here, you could barely see the stars,” Savathûn spoke. “The Sky obscured the sky, ironically enough.”

Immaru couldn’t tell if she expected him to chuckle or cringe, so he only gave an unidentified hum.

“You can’t see shit with all the city lights anyway,” he grumbled.

“Humans can’t, maybe.” There was a smile in her voice. She tilted her head up to look at the stars. “Terran constellations always struck me as exquisitely beautiful. Some part of me still marvels at a clear sky unclouded by a gaseous atmosphere.”

“What do you see, then?”

“A worm god,” she chuckled to herself. “Mmm… The stern of the Dreadnaught. And my siblings fighting. And, ah…” Another chuckle, softer this time. “If you asked a Hive to name any given constellation in any given sky, you can bet the first one they’d find would be Auryx defeating Akka.”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“It is. But once again, such is the power of myths.”

“Boring,” Immaru said. “D’we have it in the sky at home, then?”

“That depends only on your interpretation.”

“You made that sky.”

“In that case,” she reached for the mug of her rapidly cooling wine, “we do.”

“Hey, and what about, hm, a Hive Knight biting off Ikora Rey’s head? Do we have that too?”

Savathûn laughed, her alien skin vibrating like the membrane of a drum. Immaru nuzzled into it.

“Perhaps,” she took a sip of the wine and looked up at the sky again. “Perhaps.”

#still not over these two clowns #gripping the table so hard my nails break #my fics #aunt savathûn #immaru #destiny 2 #festival of the lost #season of the witch #hive #enina

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