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#Priestess of the Great Mother
zegalba · 1 year
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Priestess of the Great Mother, Protector of Mnajdra (1905).
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soulstead-sanctuary · 3 months
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My book, Hekate Whispers is on sale now for Yule and Christmas! Hekate Whispers is an inspirational journal written to help you to delve deeper into yourself. These channeled messages from Hekate are a starting point, the beginning of a torches flicker to light your way to a more fulfilling life. 30 daily prompts aim to inspire you to look closer at yourself, what you desire and what is holding you back from accomplishing what you deserve. This is my first book I've ever completed and I'm incredibly proud. All proceeds go towards woman's land, we appreciateyour support!
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meirimerens · 3 months
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got the tldr of the vid that I'm Not Watching All That & somewhat amusing how the straw breaking the camel's back for people over James Somerton is his blatant and unashamed plagiarism (as it should be genuinely i don't think you can nor should recover from this) like he hasn't regurgitated for years vile, unempathetic, ahistorical and Purely Just Wrong information about gay history including about the fight for legal same-sex marriage in the US and the AIDS crisis. like an alarming amount of people truly heard his ass say "all the good fun funky artistic and radical gays died of aids and all those who were left were unfun stuck-up prudes and conservatives also the fight for legal same-sex marriage was an assimilationist ploy by the latter who just wanted big gay weddings" as if the gay men who survived the epidemic didn't literally lose lovers and friends and entire communities and long-term partners who they shared a life with and who were denied any crumb of this previous life at their death because there was no legal recognition for same-sex cohabitation and unions and their homophobic family could tear everything from the surviving partner thanks to this lack of recognition and let it slide.
some people out there were truly so eager to shit on the boring assimilationist prude gays who survived aids by being stuck-up prudes and who just wanted "big gay weddings" they made up in their minds to get mad at that they turned their brains off and let it slide. they could've used their smoothed-out brains for ONE minute & found out that surviving took 1) plain boring luck and 2) radical, loud, proud gay activists campaigning for safe/safer sex and the information campaigns they led, as well as the protests and demonstrations they undertook to make the government fucking care for once. and that legally-recognized unions [be they civil or religious] were a matter of survival for the partner left behind. some people out there truly let a business major with a turtleneck (possibly the definition of boring) passing himself off as cool and radical and an intellectual tell them homophobic bullshit. and did not blink. like OF COURSE this guy's gonna be a plagiarist. he needs to get his information from SOMEWHERE. because when he tries to formulate his own stuff it's complete fabrications or the frankensteining of multiple sources that he manages to misunderstand/misrepresent threefold over. trying to fit a knit sock over the foot with the inside out and wonder why that itches.
i know many people in his audience are likely very young and also likely american and as such did most of their growing up in a world where their country (1 out of 195. give or take.) had legalized gay marriage but i cannot even begin to describe 1) how Young legalized gay wedding is, even in ""the west"" and 2) how many. other countries there are. my country legalized same-sex marriage before the US did. i am not even 25 and i still remember the hordes of catholics marching down the streets chanting homophobic slogans, implying the only reason two mommies or two daddies would want to raise a child together is for nefarious, vile purposes. i still remember families having to drag their asses into court to argue that, yes, a woman who raised a child for its whole life with another woman she's in a long-term committed cohabitated relationship with should have the right to be considered a direct guardian even if she's not biologically related to the child, and spending thousands of bucks having to argue their case in court. this might be shocking to some, but there are countries where homosexuality is punishable by death. in others, not by death, but by imprisonment. in others, not by imprisonment, but by ""medical intervention"". in others, not by ""medical intervention" but by fines. and in some others still, you can be gay (yay!) but you still cannot get married or civil-unioned, and the very same shit that was discussed in the 80s is still discussed now. the right to stay a guardian of your partner's child if your partner dies or is ill, so the kid does not go into foster care. the right to inherit your partner's property according to married rights instead of having through long annoying time- and money-consuming legal processes. the right to arrange your partner's funeral or have a say in their medical choices if they're incapacitated instead of their (potentially homophobic) families.
like We Are Not There Yet. we are not in a world where any homosexual can truly, fully, wholeheartedly assimilate, whether you consider it a good thing or not. fun gay artists and boring uninteresting gay office workers die the same death that we all do. the one you don't wake from. and guess what. all types of homosexuals, regardless of which ones you pick and choose to be mad at, are affected by homophobic legislation. not just the ones you think should be spared because they're oh so fun. and oh so radical.
donate to the rainbow railroad org if you can. they help LGBT+ people escape state-sponsored violence. a singular nail on one of their members' hand does more activism and real-life good than any mfer making video essays could do in his entire life.
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her-hands-and-teeth · 1 month
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Posting for interest and courtesy:
The Maetreum of Cybele Goddess temple/monastery is seeking novicates to live and train as priestesses at the temple in Palenville, New York. This temple is based on the Cybeline revival.
If you are a goddess devoted woman with an interest in monastic temple living check out their website at https://www.gallae.com/?mibextid=r5uJeJ and you can contact their Rev. Mother via Facebook or email.
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Pick Your Own Isis Energy Card ~
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🕯🌸🌀🌿
The embodiment of the Ancestors
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Mother May I
Spend my years in your embrace.
Live a life filled with chase.
Build for women a sacred place.
Be the one to open gates.
For you are the spark of my desire.
And my feet go where you require.
Forever I will carry your fire.
It is true I cannot deny Her.
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tides-of-truth · 2 years
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Moon, Mind & Law quotes from The Great Cosmic Mother by Monica Shoo & Barbara Mor
1…women were the first observers of lunar cycles. As first agriculturalists, women related moon phases to planting and reaping times. It is women who live the lunar cycle in our bodies. Becoming and changing are the lunar order of things. The moon exerts an identical influence on the magnetic serpent current of the earth, the tides of the sea and women’s menstrual flow. The lunar body is mirrored in nature, and it synchronises with the flow of menstrual blood. (P142/143)
2.Women originally went into menstrual huts in order to get gather the dark moon power, to focus it and study it, in solitude. In both group and solitary meditation, moon power became mind power.
3.In most languages there is a common root word for “moon” and “menstruation”. Our own word for menstruation comes from menses, the Latin word for”month”, which was measured originally by the moon. And both words are related, through Indo-European roots to the Old English, mona (moon), deriving from me, which meant both”mind” and “measurement”.
4.All are cognates-moon, mind, measurement, month, menstruation- since it is the moon that establishes measurement, including calendars.
5.Menstruation also means “moon-change”, also mind-change. P151
6.Light is a potent trigger of biological rhythms. (Lunaception.)
7.Human life begins with birth. …the female’s experience of surviving pregnancy and bearing children and keeping them alive. From: Monica Shoo & Barbara Mor The great cosmic mother P145
8.There is a resemblance between Moon Mothers everywhere. In this form the Great Goddess is always the law-giver, the orderer of time, the judge of the dead, and the eternal source of wisdom and ecstasy.p155
9.The Hindu Moon Mother Kali sits in her lotus posture, breathing the rise and fall of our earthly tides.155
Birth Death Rebirth
10.The moon is the Goddess who dies and rises again. The fruit that produces itself out of itself, with the power of life over death. The moon dies and then conquers darkness to rise again as the new moon, small at first but with energy within to recreate herself. These are all the original, ancient, and matriarchal ideas of cyclic birth-death-and-resurrection…
11.The cup of soma is also the mind (mens:mind:moon). It is mental perception and knowledge conveying the psychic-cosmic inspiration of the moon when the understanding, of its own motion, forms ideas within itself, it then comes to be called mind. Soma is distilled from the primordial waters, and is the dark fruit of the moon tree. Soma is the mind-fruit of the spine-tree.
12.Women were everywhere the original mantics-the shamans, the ecstatic oracular prophets, the visionary poets. Mantism is the natural art of prophesying, divining, receiving, and channeling psychic-biological energy from the earth and moon. This is woman’s original and organic province.
13.The moon fruit is the highest transformation form of the Earth-seed, the discipline designed to help the group channel and direct the real power of the universe, radiating into and from all of us.
14.Women were the first bearers of this technique, since it emanates from our own bodies and psychic processes.
15.Women are tied directly to the mantic moon by both a mental and blood cord.
16.And what were those children like who were born with the blessings of both the Moon Mother and their human mothers? Were their psyches wide open, communicating easily with the greater Self? Was the psychic/astral/lunar body more vibrant and aware? Were they able to communicate and resonate with the animals and plants, the stones and whole earth, and also tune into cosmic vibrations of the moon, sun and stars? What were moon minds like? (p152-3)
17.Goddess was the judge and giver of law. Crimes, challenges, problems were investigated by the women by moonlight. Bright nights were spent sitting around the fire thinking, contemplating, envisioning. This is why words that have to do with mental activity are, in most languages, cognate with names for the moon, e.g., mens, mental, measure, month, mind.
18.“They call the the moon the mother of the universe”, having both female and male powers and reproducing herself alone. (p152-3)
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templeofastaroth13 · 2 years
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The cult spread with minor variations in the whole Middle East, and Inanna became known as Ishtar, Asherah, Aphrodite, Venus and by many other names. Her cult also became mixed with the cult of the Great Mother and it is unclear where one ends and the other begins. In some areas all unmarried women had to serve at her temples a period each year, something that was regarded as a privilege. The priestesses enjoyed high status, unlike most other women at the time. They may have been the origin of the well educated, intellectual courtesans which reached their height in classic Greece.
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boxofbonesfic · 6 months
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Title: Monster
Kinktober Masterlist
Pairing: Orc!Bucky x Sacrifice!Reader
Kink: Teratophilia (Monsterfucking)
Summary: You draw the devil’s coin in the village lottery, you will buy another season of peace for your people—but you don’t want peace.
Warnings: 18+ Only, Dark Fantasy, Monsterfucking, References to past violence, References to past murder, Witch Burning, Forced Marriage, Dubious Consent, Violence, Revenge, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Darkfic, Dark Fanfiction
A/N: as a note, this story does NOT share a universe with my other Orc story, Brave. this is another version of Orc!Bucky that i cooked up for kinktober. speaking of which, i hope you all enjoy the first installment of my 2023 kinktober ficlets and drabbles! mind the warnings, and enjoy!
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Your wedding day dawns bleak and cold. The snows have come early this year, snuffing out the brief, brittle green of summer with icy finality, blanketing the hills in thick layers of white.
Your death day.
“Up with you.” You aren’t asleep, but Thera rips the blanket from you anyway. “Come. It’s time you prepare for your... husband.” There is no pity anywhere on her wrinkled face as she grimaces at you, her eyes dark with disgust. “Witch.” She mutters the last part like a curse you aren’t meant to hear. You do, though, and you bare  your teeth at Thera like an animal in response. You are satisfied when fear settles over her features, her rheumy eyes widening. 
“If I were a witch,” you hiss, “You would not stand whole before me, Thera Truthspeaker.” This time it is her name that burns in the ear like acid. “You would lay at my feet in pieces.”
She slaps you for the threat, and you taste blood in your mouth as your head jerks painfully. Thera grasps your chin, and you turn dazed eyes toward the old priestess.
“You speak with as foul a tongue as your mother,” she spits.
“Pity you couldn’t burn mine out of me like you did her.” At this, she looks regretful, cutting her eyes at you angrily.
“Lucky for you Demon King likes his brides whole.” She squeezes until you grunt with pain. “And unspoiled.” She tosses your head to the side before standing away from your cot before brushing her hands down her long, thick robes as though wiping your taint from them. “Save your venom, little snake. It is by my grace you were not put to the torch two seasons ago with your witch mother.”
You almost wish they had, instead of forcing the scarred coin into your hand. At least you can serve the light like this, the priest had said, his grim face illuminated by the firelight. You have not forgotten the way your mother’s body burned bright, her head turned heavenward, her mouth open in silent scream as the flames leapt from her blackened lips.
At least you can serve some good when he comes.
Despite her age, Thera’s grip is strong as she forces you up out of the narrow cot. The stone floor of the chapel is like ice on your bare feet as you stumble after her. There is an old metal basin in the chapel’s meager kitchen, and Thera instructs you to strip before ushering you into the steaming water. You hiss at the burn, but it’s the warmest you’ve been in weeks. Months, more-like. She scrubs your skin raw with rough fingers, and tears through your hair with the comb until your scalp stings. When you wince, Thera cracks her open palm against the back of your skull.
“Be still!” Your ears ring from the force of her blow. “This is an honor—a great privilege you have been afforded, though you are tainted and unworthy.” 
The laugh that bubbles from your chest is bitter. “This is not your pulpit, Truthspeaker, and I am not your sheep.” 
Thera paints the symbols for fertility and prosperity on your damp shoulders in perfumed oil before rubbing them into your skin. She combs the oil through your hair, too, braiding gold thread into it as she pins it up away from your face. As she is closing the bridal robe around your shoulders, the door flies open.
The priest practically falls through it, his face shining with sweat despite the temperature. The charcoal around his wide, fear-bright eyes runs dark on his pale skin, like dark tears tracking down his gaunt cheeks. His terror is catching, your own heart pounding against your ribs. 
“He comes! The Demon King comes! He rides for the village!” Thera glances at you, her thin lips curving into a cruel smile. 
“And his bride waits.”
You have seen a bride taken, once. You were young, six seasons, perhaps? Seven? You saw the Demon King ride away with her, her long, black veil whipping behind her in the icy wind.
Mother had told you not to go, not to watch—It’s barbaric, my love, we needn’t take part—but you couldn’t help yourself. She is lucky, she is blessed, the townspeople murmured amongst themselves as they watched her go. Chosen. She’d drawn the coin from the bag, the same pitted, pocked metal that the priest had forced into your trembling hands as you’d watched your mother burn.
Life for life.
The rope bites into your wrists as you tug uselessly at your bindings. Your breath leaves your lips in frantic clouds of white as you pull and pull. Your only victory is the creak of the rope as it tightens. Your teeth chatter as you stare into the fog. It rolls out between the trunks of the bare trees like tendrils, creeping along the snow-covered ground until it fills the air, obscuring light and sound until all around you is dim as twilight.
“Your bride awaits you,” the priest’s muffled voice trembles. “Take her and honor our agreement, as it has been, and as it shall be.”
For a long time there is no answer from the thick, swirling fog. You count each second, your aching arms stretched above you, the rough wood of the post digging into your back through your cloak. The cold eats away at your bones as you shiver. It’s not snowing any more, but the loose drift blows up into your face as the wind rips at you. The priest’s voice trembles as he begins again.
“Take her and honor our—”
“Silence.”
 The voice vibrates powerfully in your very marrow, in your head and all around. He is near. You can barely see a foot in front of you, and now you are glad for it, glad you cannot see the face of your death. The mist swells, roiling angrily around you as your skin prickles with his closeness. You know not what the Dark King looks like, but you know what you have heard murmured in the dark corners of ale-soaked taverns and in the pews of every chapel of the Holy Light—he is darkness, he is devil made flesh and set upon the children of light so that they might know fear. 
That the price of flesh paid by your people is all that keeps him from loosing his terrible fury upon the valley—
But you do not yet know you believe.
You are afraid, that much you can tell from the thundering of your heart and the staccato sound of your own breath. You cannot see him, but you know he circles you, like a wolf, just behind the curtain of smoke and mist. The silence is deafening, and for a moment you wonder grimly what the Truthspeakers will do with you if the Devil himself does not take you—
“I accept this offering.”
 He steps sideways out of nowhere, the air simply parting like a curtain to reveal him. The Orc regards you silently, watching your breath cloud the air and disappear. He reaches for you and you flinch, but he doesn’t touch you. Instead, he pulls at the ropes. The priest knotted them tightly around the post, but when the Orc pulls lightly, it comes away easily, as if undone by his touch. 
His face is more human than you expected, fierce blue eyes set above chiseled cheekbones. His tusks poke out from beneath his bottom lip, but only barely, more evident as he grimaces. You wonder if he is displeased with you, as he looks you over, and you flinch when he reaches out with one massive, gloved hand. He grasps your chin firmly, turning your head this way and that before sighing. 
“Come.” 
 This time, his voice does not echo through the clearing as if spoken by a dozen men. He reaches for you again, this time drawing the dark veil down over your face. His horse is as large and dark as he is, and the great beast paws the ground as you near, and you see your own fearful face reflected in its strange red eyes. He chuckles at your reluctance.
“Afraid, little bride?”
You are. Truly afraid. Of him. Of the village. Of the way forward, wherever it led. But you would not be like Thera, like the cowering priests in their chapel. Your fear would not rule you. 
You grasp the reins and fit a foot into the stirrup. 
“I am afraid.” Swinging your leg up, you climb into the saddle. “And I am more than fear.” He smiles, the sharp, white points of his teeth gleaming as his lips part.
“Good.” He steps up behind you, and your face flushes with heat as he fits you against his front. 
“What are you called?” He hesitates, and you wonder whether or not he will tell you the truth.
“James.”
The sun is low in the sky by the time you see the encampment, nestled in the dark, snowy hills like a glowing ember. You tense as you see it, going rigid in the saddle.
“I did not know you came to collect your bride price with an army.” You reply, and behind you James chuckles. 
“How else would I make sure it was paid?” 
You feel small and alone as you ride into camp, your veil still pulled low over your eyes. The sounds of music and conversation die as the king approaches, the garrison watching with curious apprehension. The pack parts for you, people stepping away from James’ horse with a respectful bow. He is King here, of that there could be no doubt. A great fire blazes at the heart off the encampment, and James rides close enough to feel its heat before dismounting. He holds out his hand to you with a thin smile. 
“Come, little wife. Lay aside your fear and let us know your fate.” You return his grim smile with one of your own. 
I suppose I always knew it would end in fire.
You take his hand, and James helps you down. For a moment, there is no sound other than the roar of the flames and the shrill whistle of the icy wind. 
“She is small.” The voice is heavy with age, and rife with irritation. “It will not be her.” You turn to see the stooped Orc step out from the crowd of onlookers. She leans heavily on the staff she carries, the top adorned with an assortment of feathers and tiny, white bones. James does not look away from you. 
“The fire will tell.” 
He pushes your bridal robe from your shoulders, undoing the tie around your waist. The cloth falls to the ground, leaving you naked. You are not cold, though, not this close to the fire. The veil he leaves on, and the fabric whispers against your bare ankles. The old Orc hobbles closer, peering at you with her one good eye. 
“You know what to do.” 
You do—you step into the fire. It burns—burns hotter than anything you have ever known—
But there is no pain. You open your eyes. All around you is light, beautiful, glorious light. You lift an arm, and flames dance along your skin, leaving trails of radiant heat. You raise your arms above your head with a shout. They should have burnt me in the village. You imagine the streets burning bright with your flames. 
Something is changed in you, something opened, something broken free, something you’d never even known was caged inside you. You are the fire, it is you—
The old Orc slams the staff against the ground with a sound like thunder,  and the flames cool to embers as you drop your arms, panting. You are giddy with power, your heart beating in your chest as fiercely as the flames. 
“Fire-sign.” She draws symbols on your face in red ichor, and matching ones on James. Her scarred mouth twists into a smile as she pulls the veil from you. “Burn brightly.”  
James gathers you in his arms, lifting you with ease. He makes for one of the tents, pushing aside the heavy canvas hanging over the opening. James spills you unceremoniously onto the furs by the small fire, ripping at his clothes as he sets upon you with his hungry hands and mouth.
“Knew it would be you,” he mumbles as he lowers his mouth to yours. “Could smell the smoke on your skin.” 
Gods you burn as he kisses you. You are no longer standing in the fire but you feel it in your veins still, like it’s part of you. Your head swims as though you’d drunk your share of mead, James’ touch only adding to the dizzying rush of sensation. He kneels down between your legs, his eyes dark as he drags them down your writhing body. He licks his lips.
“My fire-sign.” He cups your cunt with one massive hand, trailing a thick finger along your slit. From the bits of hushed gossip you’d overheard from the older women in the village, wifely duties were to be penitently endured, you were to feel pain and discomfort, not this, this—
Fire.
James parts your thighs until they are wide enough to accommodate him, and he bends low. The whites of his eyes barely visible as he stares at your slick center. 
“What better wedding gift?” He says lowly, tugging your hips roughly forward until you can feel his breath on your cunt. 
You lick your lips. “And what is mine?” You ask, and James laughs. You keen as he licks a long, hot stripe up your soaked slit. 
“What would you ask of me?”
“Burn the village.” There are two voices coming from your throat when you speak. There is you, the you you know, the you you have always been—
And there is the fire. 
The thing of smoke and passion and rage in your skin now, too. 
“Leave nothing standing.”
James lowers his head to your sticky core, and wraps his arms around your thighs anchoring you to his face as he feasts. His tongue slides hungrily through your slick folds, and your eyes fly open a your hips roll of their own accord. You come apart then, shuddering and whining, but he doesn’t stop. Your hands tangle in his dark hair, pulling at his ceremonial braids as he tastes you till you’re dizzy. James finally relinquishes his hold, and when he rises his chin is wet with your pleasure. 
“You wish me to wage war, little wife?” He asks, reaching between your bodies to palm his cock. You can’t look away. “To spend fire and blood for you?”
You nod. 
“For that, I will require more than a marriage of convenience,” he replies, and you shiver as he taps the head of his cock against you with a slick, sticky noise. You whimper as he circles one of your nipples with his thumb. “I want more than just your body, understand, little bride?” His hand spans half the length of your belly it’s so big, and you stare wide eyed down at his cock. 
“I will have all of you.” James growls down at you. “Not part.” You whine as he pushes against you, the blunt head of his cock pressing inside with a pop.  Your lips fall open, a strangled moan escaping them. James’ claws dig into your hip, and he utters a curse. You’re already so full of him, you don’t know how more can fit, but James works his hips against yours, rutting shamelessly against you until you swear you’re choking on him. 
The ache is so sweet it brings tears to your eyes. 
“Y-yes!” 
He draws out, leaving you almost empty before filling you with a hard thrust. James moans low in his throat, his head falling back. He cups your face with one hand, dragging his thumb across your lips. You rake your fingers over his muscled chest and he grits his teeth, driving into you harder, curling over you as he presses your knees against your chest. 
Your breaths escape you in choked little mewls, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he drowns you in pleasure again, and the fire in your veins swells, consuming you. Behind him, the fire blazes more brightly than ever before, and  James looses a low growl, his cock pulsing inside of you.
“Then you will have war, little queen,” he says, nosing down the side of your jaw. He nips at your throat, hard enough to bruise.
You smile. 
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Heyoo! Can i request az x reader where they're mates and vowed to each other that till death do them apart. But az started questioning if he would die for his mate ever since elain came into picture, bcos of the 3 brothers for 3 sisters thing. And reader sort of found out about az's feelings and wanted time off from each other. Then all of a sudden war broke out in the court and everything was crazy. Reader went out to look for az making sure he is safe when she saw an arrow shot towards him and reader took the hit for az. And az started to regret his doubt in thie relationship and begging for his mate's forgiveness. Major angst pls and the ending is up to you! Thank you and have a great day 💖
Scattered Vows.
Azriel x f!Reader
Warnings; way too much angst, mentions of death and battle. Mental illness.
Masterlist.
Uhm my heart broke. I think you will need a tissue box.
You watched the door of your bedroom for what felt like hours. A sigh escaped your lips, and you pressed your head on your mate’s pillow, his scent so faint like he hadn’t slept in your bed for weeks. And he probably hadn’t, you couldn’t remember the last time he stayed in bed for more than three hours.
The city was bright and warm offering a perfect view from the hill you were currently standing on. Your friends’ eyes were filled with tears as they watched you and your mate standing in front of the priestess.
“What do you vow to each other?” She asked.
“I vow to be by your side, protecting you and loving you until my last breath.” Azriel’s eyes watered as he spoke, his scarred hands grabbed your own and he pressed a soft kiss on your skin.
“I vow to always support you and love you. To always shield you from any harm, heck I would even take an arrow for you.” You chuckled and Azriel smiled.
“May the Mother bless this union and let it bloom like the most precious flowers” the priestess shouted and started murmuring a prayer.
“I love you my angel” Azriel whispered.
“I love you” you whispered back as the tears streamed down your face.
You teared up at the memory. Those vows meant something right? Even though he reeked of jasmine when he came back, he loved you right?
You heard the door open, and your mate’s footsteps filled the silence, making you wipe your tears and sit up. He removed his boots to not wake you and you suppressed the urge to scoff, you slowly slipped out of bed and walked down the hall to find him.
He was standing at the middle of the kitchen watching the two cold plates on the table with a frown.
“You’re here” you noted, and he glanced at you.
“Please don’t start I’m not in the mood.” He huffed.
“Don’t start what Azriel? You stood me up AGAIN” you threw your hands in the air.
“Fine you want to do this now? Okay” he yelled, and you flinched.
Azriel had never raised his voice at you, it was one of the things you loved about him, how you could always talk things out without wrecking your vocal cords.
“Where were you?” You asked and stepped closer.
“I had to finish some reports” he replied and you stepped even closer making him back off, you quirked a brow knowing exactly why he did it and marched to him sniffing. Jasmine.
Your hands clenched into fists, and you growled “you were finishing off reports or Elain’s cunt?”
His eyes widened and he bared his teeth “don’t speak for her like that”.
Your heart broke into million pieces, every fear suddenly felt real and deep down you realized that the union bloomed like a beautiful flower, but in Elain’s garden.
“You’re defending her?” You gaped at him, your face pale.
“I can’t do this anymore y/n. Lately I’ve been thinking about everything and especially our vows…” he trailed off and you felt like his feet were stepping over the pieces of your heart, crushing them into even smaller fragments.
“Go on” you whispered and let the tears escape.
“I’ve been thinking about Cassian and Rhys…they are mated with two of the sisters and I wonder if I should be mated to the third one. Three brothers and three sisters.” He explained and his eyes watered.
“What?” You asked him.
“I just don’t feel like I want to protect you until my last breath…. Because I can’t protect both of you at the same time…” he avoided your eyes
“You want to protect her until your last breath” you whispered and he nodded.
“Okay, please pack your things and leave.” You continued.
“Don’t do this” he breathed “I’m so confused, I’m not even sure if this is what I want. I just spend time with her to see if I’m really interested or if it’s just a sick thought”
“You want me to stay with you until you decide which one you want?” You gasped at his nerve.
“I-i don’t know. Can we just take a break? I won’t touch her I promise I just need some time to think.” He pleaded.
You felt numb, and an adamant wall fell on your side of the bond, blocking him entirely.
You just wanted to be alone, you didn’t have any more power to argue. “Okay. Pack your things and leave and we will speak again when you make your decision.” You lied hoping it will get him out of the house as soon as possible.
“Thank you” he gave you a sad smile and walked into your bedroom. The small cottage you two had built a few months before the ceremony felt empty and dull now as every promise of love died slowly.
You covered your mouth with your palm to keep the sobs in as you clenched your eyes shut and let the tears flow. Azriel reached the door with a small bag thrown over his shoulder and glanced back at you. You turned your back on him and waited to hear the door shutting.
“I’ll be back” he promised and left.
When you couldn’t hear the beating sound of his wings anymore you let it all out, a heartbreaking scream wrecked your throat and you dropped on your knees. Every kiss, every touch, every promise pierced your skin and escaped to the darkness of the sky.
You remained on the kitchen floor for two days, letting every feeling out hoping that it would stop hurting so bad. You reached a point of numbness, where even your love for him was dull now, cursing at yourself for trusting him. He had your fragile heart in his hands, and he crushed it into mist, without a care, without a hint of regret. You pictured him in her arms and rage made your body tremble, you despised her even though it wasn’t her fault. She sure was a wicked female for leading on a mated male but then again why should she care? He was the one who should have said no.
A booming sound pulled you out of your thoughts and you felt the ground shaking making you furrow your eyebrows and peek out the window. Velaris' shield was gone, you couldn’t feel the magic anymore and winged creatures descended from the sky, slaughtering everyone in their path. The autumn court’s banners emerged from the mountains, with an army behind them. You gasped and quickly grabbed a dagger, running out of the cottage and winnowing to the main square, Feyre and Mor were there holding swords and shouting at people to hide.
“Where’s Azriel?” you shouted at Feyre.
“He….” She paused “He took Elain out of the city, he’ll be back in a few minutes.”
You shook your head, not letting your family’s betrayal cloud your senses. They knew and they supported them, like you never existed.
You ran towards the creatures letting all your feelings out as you sliced their necks, your vision clouding and the image of Azriel flying Elain to safety was the only thing you could see. You crouched and placed your hand on the ground screaming, your eyes became white, and your power flowed out of you, destroying creatures and buildings on its way. You gasped for air and glanced around you, Azriel had landed a few steps behind you, his eyes wide as he stared at you and what you did. You noticed a creature lurking in the corner with a bow in its hands, it grabbed an arrow and pointed it to your mate making your face pale.
“Az” you screamed and ran… ran like your life depended on it, the arrow was shot, Azriel whipped his head to the direction, and you jumped, using the remaining power to lunge yourself in front of him. Silence, deafening silence, a cry, pain, fear and darkness.
Azriel watched the arrow piercing your skin and the tip emerging from your back.
“I vow to always support you and love you. To always shield you from any harm, heck I would even take an arrow for you.” It rang in his mind.
“I would even take an arrow for you.” He cried out your name.
"I would even take an arrow for you.” “Stop” he ordered himself.
“I would even take an arrow for you.” He grabbed his head, his hands covering his ears.
“I would even take an arrow for you.” “No” he screamed and started hitting his head.
“I vow to be by your side, protecting you and loving you until my last breath.” He fell on his knees.
“Lately I’ve been thinking about everything and especially our vows… I just don’t feel like I want to protect you until my last breath…. Because I can’t protect both of you at the same time…”  Darkness.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Azriel woke up with a groan, he was in his room in the house of wind. He glanced around and noticed Elain sitting on a chair by his bed, her hand holding his own.
He stirred a bit and pulled his hand back making her flinch and open her eyes.
“Az” she whispered and tried to pull him in her arms.
“No! Where is she?” he shouted.
Rhysand entered his room and nodded at Elain to get out.
“Rhys where is she?” Azriel raised his voice again.
“Calm down, you need to rest, your shadows almost strangled you to death” his brother spoke.
“What? Why?” he gaped.
Rhys sighed “I went into your mind while you were asleep, you ordered them to strangle you because you wanted the thoughts to go away”.
Azriel’s eyes watered “Where is she? I have to go to her, I have to apologize. I need to beg her not to leave me”.
“I’m sorry brother, you’ve been out for five days. We couldn’t wait any longer so we buried her at the garden of your cottage”
“No!” Azriel screamed “No no no”
“I vow to always support you and love you. To always shield you from any harm, heck I would even take an arrow for you.”  “NO” he screamed again as his body started seizing.
“Lately I’ve been thinking about everything and especially our vows… I just don’t feel like I want to protect you until my last breath…. Because I can’t protect both of you at the same time…”  “Make it stop, please make it stop” he cried out.
Rhysand quickly moved to his side and grabbed his head making him go to sleep again.
“I’m sorry brother” he whispered and glanced at Feyre who was standing at the door, tears were streaming down her face.
“It’s done” she informed him and let him in her mind.
“Are you sure you want to do this y/n?” She asked you.
“Yes, this is for the best. Just tell him I’m dead.” You replied.
“Okay, please take care of her.” She spoke.
“I will, I promise to give her a place in my court” Eris nodded.
“Thank you” Feyre replied, “for everything, we wouldn’t defeat Beron without you”.
“It was my pleasure” Eris smirked and grabbed your hand.
Feyre let a tear slip as she watched you disappearing with Eris.
“Do you think he will survive this?” She asked Rhysand.
“I doubt it.” He sighed and they walked out, closing the door and locking it.
Sorry <3
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themodernwitchsguide · 6 months
Text
greek god epithets (pt.2)
this post includes hades, persephone, aphrodite, hermes, apollo, artemis, dionysus, and hekate. for part one including zeus, hera, demeter, ares, athena, poseidon and hephaestus click here
HADES:
-PLOUTON= of wealth
-THEON CHTHONIUS= god of the underworld
-POLYSEMANTOR= ruler of many
-POLYDEGMON/POLYXENUS= host of many
-NECRODEGMON= receiver of the dead
-NECRON SOTER= savior of the dead
-ADESIUS= of grace
-STYGIUS= from the Styx
-URAGUS= of fire
-NIGER DEUS= the black god
PERSEPHONE:
APHRODITE:
-CHTHONIA= of the earth
-CARPOPHORUS= bringer of fruit
-SOTEIRA= the savior
-MEGALA THEA= the great Goddess
-HAGNE= the pure/holy one
-DAEIRA= the knowing one
-PRAXIDICE= the exacter of justice
-PROTOGONE= the first born
-BRIMO= the dreaded/vengeful
HERMES:
-URANIA= of heavenly/divine love
-PANDEMOS= common to all people
-MACHANITIS= the diviser/contriver
-EPISTROPHIA= she who turns to love
-CALASCOPIA= the spying/all seeing
-PSITHYRISTES= the whispering
-PRAXIS= of sexual action
-MELAENIS= the black
-SYMMACHIA= the ally in love
-APATURUS= the deceptive one
-NYMPHIA= the bridal
-MIGONTIS= of unions
-DORITIS= the bountiful
-MORPHO= of shapely form
-AMBOLOGERA= the postponer of old age
-NICEPHORUS= the bringer of victory
-HOPLISMENA= the armed
-EUPLOEA= of fair voyages
-PONTIA= of the sea
-LIMENIA= of the harbor
-XENIA= of hospitality to foreigners
-PHILOMIDES= the laughter loving
-APHROGENEIA/APHROGENES= the foam born
-PHILOMMEDES= the genital loving
-CHRYSEA= the golden
-DIA= the golden/shining
-POTHON MATER= the mother of desire
-EUSTEPHANUS= the richly crowned/the well girdled
-EN KIPIS= of vegetation/agricultural fertility
APOLLO:
-EPIMELIUS= keeper of the flocks
-OEOPOLUS= the shepherd
-AGORAEUS= of the market place
-DOIUS= of crafts/wiles
-ENAGONIUS= of the games
-PROMACHUS= the champion
-HERMENEUTES= the interpreter/translator (of the gods)
-TRICEPHALUS= the three headed
-DIACTORUS= the guide/messenger
-ATHANATUS DIACTORUS= the immortal guide
-ANGELUS MACARON/ANGELUS ATHANATON= messenger of the divine
-CHRYSORRHAPIS= of the golden wand
-CLEPSIPHRON= the deceiver
-MECHANIOTES= the trickster/contriver
-PHELETES= the thief/robber/rustler
-ARCHUS PHELETEON= leader of robbers/thieves
-POECILOMETES/POLYTROPUS= the wily
-DAIS HETAERUS= comrade of the feast
-CHARIDOTES= giver of joy
-CHARMOPHRON= the glad-hearted
-DOTOR EAON= giver of good things
-ACACETA= the guileless/gracious
-EUSCOPUS= the keen sighted/watchful
-CYDIMUS/ERICYDES/AGLAUS= the glorious/famous/splendid
-CRATUS/CRATERUS= the strong/mighty
-POMPAEUS= the guide
ARTEMIS:
-THEARIUS= of the oracle
-PROUPSIUS= the foreseeing
-CLERIUS= of distribution by lot
-CLEDONES= of omens
-HECATUS= the shooter from afar/the archer
-AGRAEUS= of the hunt/the hunter
-MUSAGETES= the leader of the Muses
-ULIUS= of good health
-PAEON= the healer
-ACESIUS= of healing
-ALEXICACUS= averter of evil/harm
-EPICURIUS= the succoring/helping
-BOEDROMIUS= the rescuer
-LYCIUS= of the wolves
-SMINTHEUS= of the mice
-DELPHINIUS= of the dolphin
-ACTIUS= of the foreshore
-THEOXENIUS= the god of foreigners
-ARGYEUS= of streets/public places/entrances to homes
-VIROTUTIS= the benefactor of humanity
DIONYSUS:
-AGROTERA= of the hunt
-PHERAEA= of the beasts
-ELAPHAEA= of the deer
-DAPHNAEA= of the laurel tree
-CEDREATIS= of the cedar tree
-CARYAE/CARYATIS= of the walnut tree
-LIMNAEA/LIMNATUS= of the lake
-HELEIA= of the marshes
-EURYNOME= of broad pastures
-LYCAEA= of the wolves
-LEUCOPHRYNE= of the white (bird)
-PAEDOTROPHUS= the nurse of children
-PHILOEIRAX= the friend of young girls
-ORSILOCHIA= the helper of childbirth
-SELASPHORUS/PHOSPHORUS= the light bringer
-SOLEIRA= the saviour
-HEMERASIA= she who soothes
-HYMNIA= of the hymns
-HEGEMORE= the leader of dances/choir
-ARISTE= the best/the excellent
-EUCLEIA= of good repute
-CALLISTE= the very beautiful
-BASILEIS= the princess
-HIEREIA= the priestess
-HEURIPPA= the horse finder
-PEITHO= the persuasive
-PYRONIA= of the fire
HEKATE:
-BROMIUS= the noisy/boisterous
-MAENOLES= the mad/raging
-NYCTELIUS= of the night
-LAMPTERUS= of the torches
-HESTIUS= of the feast
-PHALLEN= the phallic
-ANDROGYNUS= the androgynous (of sexuality, he bed all genders)
-PHLEON= the luxuriant
-STAPHYLITES= of the grape
-OMPHACITES= of the unripe grape
-LENAEUS= of the wine press
-THEOENUS= the god of wine
-AGATHUS DAEMON= the good spirit (as in a ghost, not a drink)
-OENOPS= the wine-dark
-ACRATOPHORUS= the bringer of mixed wine
-CISSEUS= of the ivy
-CITIOPHORUS= the ivy bearer
-ANTHION= of the flowers
-CISTOPHORUS= the basket bearer
-DIMETOR= twice born
-IRAPHIOTES= the goat child
-AEGOBOLUS= the goat slayer
-MELANAEGIS= of the black goat-skin
-ANTHROPORRAESTUS= the man slayer
-LYSIUS= of release
-ELEUTHEREUS= of liberation/freedom
-PSILAX= uplifted on wings
-SAOTES/SOTERIUS= the savior
-AESYMNETES= the dictator
-POLITES= the citizen
-MYSTES= of mysteries
-CHTHONIUS= of the earth
-MELPOMENUS= the singer/of the tragic plays
-BRIMO= the dreaded/the vengeful
-CHTHONIA= of the earth
-DESPOINA= the goddess/our lady
-ENODIA= of the crossroads
-AENAOS= the eternal/the ever loving
-AGLAOS= the beautiful/the bright
-APOTROPAIA= the one that protects
-EROTOTOKOS= the bringer of love
-INDALIMOS= the beautiful
-KLEIDOUCHOS= the keeper of the keys of Hades
-KOUROTRPHOS= the nurse of children
-PHOSPHOROUS/LAMPADEPHOROUS= the bringer/bearer of light
-SOTERIA= the savior
-TRIMORPHE- the three formed
-TRIODIA/TRIODITIS= she who frequents crossroads
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soulstead-sanctuary · 7 months
Text
In Her Service
I walk the halls of the temple I wish to build for Hekate before I go to sleep. Feeling the warmth of the fire burning and the smell of the wood. The voices of other women nearby.
I make it real internally before it materializes. It's like a rock and the subsequent ripples in a river. The rock is our intent and will, when we throw the rock we are focusing our will and intent. As the rock hits the river the ripples radiate outward, once we align our frequency to what we want to manifest it can materialize. The ripples of our magic too radiate outward.
If you don't throw the rock you won't get the ripples. If you don't feel it, align with it, visualize it, then you can not materialize it.
I believe this to be a foundation of magic, it is fun to have layers to our work. The crystals and cards, the herbs and statues. And I think ceremony is definitely important in instances when approaching Hekate. But we are whole, as we are. In this capitalistic age, we as practitioners of the craft are able to effect real change just by ourselves. It is empowering and healing.
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huicitawrites · 5 months
Text
Priestess of The Malevolent Shrine
Yandere! Trueform Sukuna x Fem! Reader
tags: @a-tiny-teez @kazusan7yanderekun @eleventhdoctorsangel @sircatchungus
warnings: yandere, “slow burn”, violence, death and torture, slavery
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Part 1- It begins
Previous Part / Next Part
The day itself was no different than any other spring day in Japan. The vast forest gleamed with green and a soft breeze danced through the trees and rattled the leaves. In the depths, the sound of rushing water could be heard, indicating the presence of a waterfall or spring.
And yet, it was still awfully quiet.
No sounds or sights of animals- no heads of reindeers or tails of mountain foxes, not a single bird sat atop the tree branches and not the single chirp of a cricket or the all-too-known hisses of cicadas.
In any case, the air was tense, the spring wind carried gloom and silence. The dense forest did not hide you, but made you feel small and intimidated, vulnerable to the feeling of being stalked like prey.
You were capable of seeing their eyes and malformed shapes, their sights were focused on you, who was sitting inside the decorated carriage, and the men who carried you to the slaughter.
They outnumbered you and the men, they made you easy prey and yet, they did not jump at the opportunity. No, they watched. Although the bodies pushed and squeezed each other, they did not cross your path and in its stead, formed a straight path up the hill- at the top of it and at its end, a massive torii-gate could be seen.
Like a lamb to the slaughter.
Yes, that’s what you were- The make-up, the accessories and wedding hanfu were all a traditional façade, you were not a woman to be married off to a man as the noble customs dictate.
No.
You were a sacrifice.
An unlucky sheep being delivered to the wolf’s den in a ridiculous attempt to save the other sheep.
As the carriage advanced, you couldn’t help but grasp and twist the fabric of the dress. It was shameful, if anything. Your clan was once proud and strong, almost at par with the family that held possession of The Six Eyes. Your parents were proud leaders that had exorcized countless curses and led their fellow shamans to dominate the battlefield.
A terrible encounter would be their doom and leave the [L/n] clan in shambles. Your parents and many other clanspeople fought and lost their lives to the King of Curses. The L/n’s, once vast and powerful, was rendered scarce and vulnerable. Without the support such a big clan provided, your village’s riches run dry and your clan was abandoned by the townspeople. Even when you as the heiress of the Clan pleaded for help to the other great clans in hopes they would honor their alliances held for over decades, they turned their backs on you without a second thought.
What could you, a young woman with feeble grasp of her own inherited technique, hope to do to? In a world where power ruled over all and guaranteed survival, what could you possibly do to prevent your clan from extinction?
How could you ever save the legacy of your dear parents?
It seemed like your uncle, the only closest relative you had alive, had a wonderful idea. "We'll put to use your youth and face”, he had said, “I am sure you can please him, your parents would be proud to see you do anything in your grasp to save our clan. As a young L/n heiress, it is your duty. Bask in pride.”
‘Bask in pride?’ To hell with him, it seemed that he had also forgotten about his sister, your beloved mother, and his brother-in-law. They would never sell you out, as long as you can remember they never pressured you to accept any suitor and they would always express their desire for you to choose out of your own right.
And screw your Uncle’s words, they would rather fight tooth and nail against the whole Jujutsu world than to see you being sent off to the Cursed King himself. Your parents would rather die than issue an alliance with Ryomen Sukuna, the murderer of your clan, through you- their cherished daughter.
However, they had indeed died. They could do nothing to prevent you from your fate and save you from the madness and desperation of your uncle.
‘Mother, Father’, your fingertips instinctively brushed the piece of jewelry that adorned your [Y/n] hair - a colorful hairpin in the shades of [favorite color] passed down to you as a family heirloom - when you closed your eyes, the faces of your deceased parents and fallen clanspeople flashed in your mind.
To hell with your uncle, to hell with the King of Curses.
Too caught up within your mind, you were brought back by a ‘knock-knock’ from the outside wall of the carriage. Your uncle’s voice reached your ears, “We are almost there, [Y/n]. Prepare yourself.”
“Remember, our lives depend on you. Do not do anything stupid.”
You knew well what he meant to say, ‘don’t you dare step out of line’. You can perfectly recall the sting of the palm of his hand on your right cheek when you had first opposed. You were still opposed, you could not hide the truth that reflected in your face. Your uncle was mad, but he was not blind. He was aware of your intentions and the unwavering loyalty you had for your parents and the clan. Their teachings, values and traditions were well rooted within you.
The ascending movements of the carriage came to a stop. Your curiosity willed you towards the window of the carriage. When taking a peak out of it, you noticed a massive, old and strained torii. The color of it had faded and lost itself to time and the wood of it had various cracks that ran through the columns. In spite of it all, it stood tall and its height made you feel even smaller and more insignificant to its grandness.
Past the torii, meters away and framed at the center, was a shrine.
When the lot of you crossed the torii, a massive aura came crushing on you. The tension solidified ten times over, and the air became even thicker than before. Unlike in the forest, there were no cursed spirits yet the cursed energy emanating from the shrine was hundreds of times stronger and fouler.
This was where Ryomen Sukuna lived.
He had to be there, inside.
The gates of the shrine opened on their own as if he were already expecting your arrival. He knew all of you were here the moment you put a foot in that cursed forest. The doors creaked and the ominous scenery lit up.
The shrine was spacious, there were three columns at each side of the hallroom and between the last pair there was his throne.
The veils of the carriage hid you, but you could feel your uncle and his men freeze. You could feel his cursed energy radiating past the carriage walls and veils, directly hitting your skin and making your body tremble. You bit your lower lip and your nails crumbled the fabric even tighter. It would leave permanent creases, if you ever lived past this moment to see them that is.
“Oh, great King of Curses,” your uncle’s voice announced and his body bowed along the remaining clanspeople, “We have come in peace and humbleness with an offer.”
Your uncle could not resist slightly raising his head and taking a mere glance, but once he did, he was quick to redirect his forehead to the ground and sweat began to break all over his body.
At the top of the leading stairs and in a golden throne gilded with skulls sat Ryomen Sukuna, seemingly bored. Even as he sat, his body was huge, and he had two pairs of arms. The lower set held two weapons, a staff and a dagger, which did nothing but aggravate the threat that he was. His top left arm laid on the armrest as his right elbow bent to cushion his cheek. Although his head was tilted to the side and there were no traces of ire or madness right away, his four eyes looked down upon them with disdain. As if he were glancing at a couple of ants.
His eyes were, however, quick to glance at the carriage. Of course he knew what this was about, this was not the first time he was made an ‘offering’. His red irises glanced back to your uncle and the people behind him, oh how he enjoyed the sight of fools bowing to him.
“Bring the carriage forward and back off. I’ll see whatever’s inside for myself”.
His voice was low and thick, Sukuna ordered them around without much more explanation, only with the expectation that they would fill out his command. They were at his mercy, and so, the carriage was carried forward with you in it. Slowly, they lowered it and dropped you on the ground. As they retreated, their forms were still kept bowed and low.
Ryomen Sukuna stood up from his throne, full seven feet or more of stature in display. Strange black markings stretched across his skin. As he descended the stairs, his heavy footfalls thudded the wooden floor, vibrating through the it.
The carriage shook in the ground, you could tell he was enormous and monstrous due to those footfalls of his. With each step, he got closer, and you grew even more nervous.
Sweat began to break from the skin of your forehead, your eyes widened and your pupils constricted, your throat became tight and dry.
‘He’s getting closer, he’s getting closer, he’s-’
The shadow of his silhouette tinted the veils, and suddenly everything around you disappeared. All you could hear and feel was the frantic drumming of your heart in your ears.
You could see in slow motion how his muscled arm came to grab the veil. One by one, his black claws passed through the division of the veils.
‘He will open them any second now.’
Your breathing became ragged and snippets of your life flashed across your eyes. Your parents, your clanspeople, the townspeople, everyone.
You would rather die than betray them.
You prepared yourself and below the sleeves of the damned hanfu, your knuckles turned white.
When Sukuna drew open the curtains, he was met with a pretty sight. It’s not an outstandingly new thing, but a pretty maiden is always a relief to a man’s eyes, even to one such as him.
Dolled up just for him with delicate makeup and luxurious fabrics, a lady with [h/c] hair and [s/c] skin sat on her knees elegantly. Her back was poise and kept, her eyes were closed, displaying long and curled eyelashes.
For a second, Sukuna lost his usual cool composure- he was truly impressed, even though many had come to him in a similar manner.
However, what followed suit was what definitely picked his interest.
The calm and docile demeanor of the lady snapped and her eyes shot open, revealing a pair of fierce [e/c] burning with fury. From the inside of the carriage, she leapt forward to him- to his throat to be precise.
“Oh?” The Cursed King expressed with genuine interest, an eyebrow cocked and all, as he admired your form in the air.
Your hair spread free and wild in the air, like the mane of a lion, and your teeth were bared as a warcry left your red-painted lips. Your left arm was extended and the palm of your hand was wide open, while the other arm’s elbow was bent behind your head. Sukuna was also quick to take notice of the weapon in your hand infused with cursed energy, a familiar one as well, and his eyes widened in further surprise when the cursed energy became so sharp it flashed in red and black.
The corners of Sukuna’s lips picked up, his lips parted in a wicked, toothy grin laced with malice. He ran his tongue over his lips, he could already taste it, the massacre. Your form was getting nearer and nearer by the second, with the naive intent to strike him down.
“I’d rather die than be sold off like a broodmare!”
“You foolish girl, you’ll kill us all!”
The King of Curses held an amused face in contrast to your enraged one, and just when you thought you would be able to pierce and slice open his throat, one of his arms stopped you. Abruptly, and quite ironically, he caught you by your own throat. His hold was strong, immobilizing you completely mid air. Your body halted and trembled, even as you struggled to find air, the object still held your cursed energy and your eyes kept burning with ire.
“Now this is getting fun”, Sukuna giggled as his four eyes scrutinized your form. He found that the way you resisted was pathetically adorable as if he had just caught an insect with the pads of his fingers, one he could squash in less than a second.
“A hairpin infused with cursed energy? Creative, I’ll give you that, but so stupid. You thought you could kill me? With a hairpin? That’s a little insulting to say the least ” His tone was mocking and condensing, his tongue lacing the words with venom. With his hand still choking you, he brought you closer.
He made out the words ‘fuck you’ from your lips, which just made him laugh some more. You raked your fingernails across his arm in agony, trying to tear apart his skin. Such a feisty lady.
The King of Curses made sure to glare at you right in the eyes with false pity as he spoke, “For someone who would rather die, you sure are putting on a pathetic display as you are giving it your all for some air”.
Something about his words resounded deep within you. A truth you wanted to deny yourself in the name of your parents. Everyone died whilst fighting and here you were, the least you could do was join them and honor their dignity!
Your eyesight was getting clouded with dark spots due to the lack of oxygen, but your ears were keen to the following words, “Hmm? You want to live, don’t you?”
Sukuna hummed the words as he was drowning in the details of your bodily expressions as you gasped for a last breath of air. He had taken many lives, some squealed like lowly pigs at the slaughter, others simply gave up, but some put up a fight, or some sort of resistance. Yours was such a case, in which you’d put on a brave facade, acting tough and daring, but deep down you wanted to survive and live on so, so badly.
He could see it in the diminishing fire of your eyes, and how the cinders of fear and regret took over. You were beginning to question yourself, to panic. And Sukuna relished in it, took all in.
“So? What will you---“
Sukuna blinked his eyes and tilted his head downward upon the feeling of someone tugging on his yukata. “Please forgive her, my lord! I am sure she is just nervous, please reconsider it!”, at the level of his feet, the old man that had delivered his sacrifice was clinging to his ankles. His nose was buried in the fabric of his clothes, and Sukuna gagged in disgust.
“Spare her foolishness! I am certain of her capability to–”
“Silence, you fool”.
The voice of the King of Curses dropped decibels lower, lacking any twisted humor and simply on point. His eyes held no emotion but irritation, his face was relaxed but his eyebrows and mouth were lined straight. Sukuna was serious.
His voice boomed through the hallroom, and you heard the way everyone dropped to their knees again. Your uncle hit his forehead on the floor with a loud slap and he shook like a leaf. A leaf to be trampled on.
Sparing you no other glance, Ryomen Sukuna threw you to the side of the room like a mere toy. Your back crashed against the wall and upon impact. Air was knocked out of your lungs once again and you howled silently in pain, unable to produce a sound. Your body coiled in itself as it attempted to reduce the pain, and you coughed furiously.
Your eyes blinked a couple of times, making feeble attempts to open fully- but all you could see was a blurry mist, in which you only figured out the characteristic pink hair and monstrous build of the demon. You noticed your uncle at his feet, without really thinking, you reached out your arm to him and stretched it wide open. It collapsed on its weight. All you could do was watch the tragedy unfold.
Sukuna kicked your uncle in the gut and he rolled back a few steps. He groaned in pain. He had no time to gather himself, for Sukuna kicked him once more. This time, in the ribs.
“You dare barge into my shrine without care, shamelessly bringing up an unsolicited offer. You were an idiot if you thought you would get something out of me. An alliance, or my ‘divine’ protection?” He sneered, “ You are the fool here. At least the girl stood up to fight, coward.”
Your uncle tried to shape words with his lips, tongue and teeth, but all that came up was splotches of blood and saliva.
“Uraume,” the Cursed King called out and from the shadows, a young man made his appearance at Sukuna's side. His odd light-blue locks cascaded down as his head was bowed, and his robes draped over his legs on the floor. His arm crossed over one of his knees, it was evident that he was awaiting orders.
“Yes, my lord?”
“Help me with dealing with this trash. I am fed up with this.”
“As you say, my lord.”
When he raised up his face, a sinister grin decorated his face. He lifted his body off the floor and dusted his clothes, making way towards the poor souls in Sukuna's hall.
“This one's for me to kill, and that girl over there-” the Cursed King pointed at you “- leave her be.”
‘Uraume’ nodded once more and muttered the loyal words. Without further haste, he launched himself to the rest of the people.
You struggled to stay conscious, the dissonance of horror enveloping you, though your senses were waning. The screams of terror, the sickening squelch of flesh and blood, the bone-chilling cracks—these sounds permeated your fading awareness. However, the overwhelming cursed energy in the air compelled you to regain consciousness. As if it kept your body awakened with its sheer presence.
Your tear-blurred vision flickered as you blinked repeatedly, attempting to adjust your eyesight to the scene before you. Regret – instant and churning painfully your heart – flooded your thoughts as you took in the gruesome scenery.
The room was a nightmarish maelstrom of chaos. Blood pooled around lifeless bodies strewn across the floor. Limbs and entrails laid in grotesque disarray. An overpowering metallic stench overtook your sense of smell, assaulting your nostrils with the unmistakable scent of iron.
You longed to turn away, to escape the horrors unfolding before you, but your body remained unable to move itself. You were far too hurt. Wide-eyed and trembling, you observed that many bodies lay headless, including your uncle's.
His severed head stared right at you, a loud but silent testament to the brutality of the carnage. The weight of the guilt sinked deep within you, the cold look on your uncle’s corpse blaming you.
Your shoulders slumped, and despair welled up, but your body lacked the strength even to shed tears. You clenched your fists so tightly that your fingernails dug into your palms, an agonizing reminder of your helplessness.
"God... please," you whispered, your voice a desperate plea in the midst of the macabre scene. The last remnants of your clan, the servants, the soldiers, your own blood—their lives had all been snuffed out.
The once-proud [L/n] clan, now reduced to a memory, stood on the precipice of extinction. You were the sole survivor, a solitary heiress to a lineage of nothingness. The weight of this grim reality pressed upon you, though it felt like mere seconds separated you from joining the departed.
Alone and vulnerable, you embraced grief and awaited death.
"Wasn't that quite refreshing, Uraume?" Sukuna's voice rang out, his presence looming closer.
"It certainly was, my lord," Uraume responded, his words dripping with sadistic amusement.
You remained ensnared in your misery, dry tears long gone, your throat raw from unspoken anguish. As Sukuna drew near, his laughter filled the air. He crouched before you, his posture languid, his gaze filled with a sadistic fascination that thrived in your torment.
“Now, what will I do with you…” A reminder that you were at the mercy of the King of Curses. As he hummed with closed eyes, searching for answer in his evil mind, his clawed-thumb supported his chin as he tilted his head, his other arms resting over his knees. He was unfazed, lacking any remorse or guilt, he was amused. He truly could not care less about what he had done.
“Ah, yes!” he clapped his hands, eyes wide open along with a bright smile. He sought to meet your gaze, but your head hung too low to notice, and without warning, he raised it with his hand. He pinched your chin, puncturing his claws in your (color) skin. Perhaps, it would leave a scar, but that would heal. Unlike your heart, which would certainly have one– a nasty, deep one, for sure. One that would never heal.
Even though he lifted your head, your gaze refused to meet his. Your (e/c) were dull and empty, your eyelids were swollen and you were crestfallen. His red-eyes went to the side. It slightly irked him, he despised the weak and that face you held was the epitome of weakness. Yet, he could put you to greater use.
“Hear me out, girl” Ryomen Sukuna spat. His eyes glinted with malevolent intent, “You haven’t been the only one to come up to my shrine and be offered as a pretty human bride. But I fear there is just no more space in my harem and I have just enough servants… But I am missing a priestess for my shrine, someone to worship me and pray in my name. A human to set as an example for the rest, a shepherd for these pathetic, weak sheep.”
His tone holds mockery and his eyes hold mischievousness, an egotistical and narcissistic abyss that wants to be filled to the brim. He is asking you to strip off any remaining pride and honor, just to serve him.
“So what do you say? Who knows… if you do your job well you might get to live a little bit more…”
The King of Curses looked back to your face, you were bewildered and your features scrunched in disgust. Of course, Sukuna knew you would hesitate, you just need a little pushing around, “And if you don’t accept my kind offer, well, I could just have my fun with you before ripping you apart and ending your miserable life.”
You gulped. The implications of his word, ‘having his fun with you’, it sent shivers down your spine. It could mean anything, and nothing good for certain. You do not wish to die such a horrible death, what choice do you have? Being used by Ryomen Sukuna like a doll would be humiliating and atrocious, but serving him like a priestess would betraying your morals– yet, you’d live.
You would live to see another day.
You grimaced, a silent tear slipping down the corner of your eye, ‘I am sorry, Mother, Father, Uncle… everyone’
“I don’t have all day, girl”
“I accept”
Sukuna’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise as a cheshire grin spread on his face. He chuckled upon your despair, what more could the weak do than take the slightest chance to be spared? If you were stronger, you could have attempted to resist him, but you were not, you were at his mercy.
“Then bow your head to your new god and present yourself”. The sentence came in the format of a command, one so powerful it instantly made your elbows seek the ground and plummeted your forehead below.
“I am [Y/n] [L/n], heir of the [L/n] Clan.”
On the back of your head you felt a sudden pressure being forced, its flat surface made you believe it was one of his feet. “That name…”
The pressure intensified as he sank his foot deeper and rubbed it against your skull, his next words only aggravated the pain “Ah, yes! The [L/N] Clan, yes, I got word I killed two of their most powerful sorcerers, the heads of the clan nonetheless. It made it all the more funny, they were weakling scum. Pathetic really how the remains of their oh so proud clan, barged into my home pleading for mercy and now I have their daughter right at my foot to serve me.” His laugh was loud and boisterous, as if someone had told him the best joke around, his four eyes holding disdain and madness. His laugh continued to echo across the room, before dying down as he inhaled and exhaled, a smaller smile painting his face.
His four eyes looked down at you.
“You are now solely [Y/n], after all, no [L/N] remains… Stand up.” he removed his foot.
He ordered you to stand up and although your knees buckled, you managed. However, you remained your head low, avoiding eye-contact.
“Well, then. You ought to begin, your first task will be to clean up this mess. Leave this place spotless.” He said without a care of the bodies, without acknowledging the value of the lives he had taken. “Uraume, after she finishes give her further instructions, show her how things work around here.”
“As you wish, my lord”. The man with light-blue hair and peculiar robes showed himself again, this time, right by your side but not at the same level, a step in front.
“And [Y/n]- I despise incompetence”. His eyes shot daggers at your form and his voice rid itself of any sarcastic or ‘humorous’ tone, it was a very real threat. You gulped and nodded, bowing your head in an instant, but something about the way he said his words unease you– the gears in your head began shifting rapidly and you were quick to reach the conclusion, for your sake.
“Y-yes, my lord.” You copied this ‘Uraume’ man, and bowed your head further. The King of Curses chuckled.
“Very good, you are a fast learner it seems.”
Without further ado, Ryomen Sukuna walked away along with Uraume, who later came back to toss you cleaning supplies, a bucket of water and a broom and a rag- he disappeared with a twisted smile too, much like his lord.
You stood still there with the broom in your hands as by your feet, the severed head of your uncle kept staring at you. You rolled the sleeves of the ruined hanfu, and began to mop.
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her-hands-and-teeth · 2 years
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I am so blessed to be in a community of Goddess women. To be able to spend my evening with priestesses and share in rage, and hurt, and support and love. To be able to join in ritual and have them their with me.
Goddess, I sing Your praises and adore your many names and faces! Thank you, a thousand times, for the blessing of community you have granted me. Thank you for support as I do the work You have set me to. Thank you, thank you, thank you for ensuring I do not do this work alone.
May all your children one day know this wholeness. May there be a home for You and Yours wherever one may seek it.
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Great Mother Goddess Energy ~
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