#he's already met his 'heretical' end

[lordcaptains]

:(

:)

[kamodofilez]

So who’s Penelope’s spouse? How did they meet? What is their relationship like?

When Penelope first met Ulysses, I like to think it was during their teens or something, the croc having been rescued from Anchordeep during one of the Lamb’s crusades. Ulysses was already an orphan before heretics raided his village, but he still lost friends he knew and cared for, but there’s not much he can do now. So to keep busy, he helps with the cult’s farm work, and when he’s a bit older, he starts going on missionaries.

I think it’s at this point Penelope starts noticing the gentle giant, especially since he usually hangs out with her Uncle Leshy in the fields. After some pushing from her siblings, the two of them end up becoming friends first before actually getting into a relationship of sorts. It’s like a crush -> friends -> lovers type of deal ya know? Very sweet, nothing angsty gonna happen whatsoever :]

Anyways, thank you sm for being so interested in the shitten lore, it’s so fun drawing them and brainstorming any new ideas for them!

(Also my file corrupted so many times while working on this, so sorry for the shit quality :P)

[krysmcscience]

Oh, hey, remember these cute lil kiddos who totally aren't evil or anything?

Yeah, they're in color now. And still very much actually evil.

pay no mind to the lazy background behind the orphans

Some more headcanon rambles under the cut:

Prior deets are here.

I've thought a little bit more about each Bishop's backstory kinda? But not too much - mostly just deciding how they met, and having fun assigning deaths to their families to allow for a continued cycle of abuse (in a sense). Each of the Bishops' families died in a way that relates to their eventual domains as gods, enabling them to lash out at others with the very things that left them as orphans. Because I'm nice to characters like that. And by nice I mean horrible. :D

Shamura:

Shamura's parents were already part of a cult, and had learned too much about a group of enemy heretics they'd been spying on, and thus their rather large family was slaughtered alongside the rest of the family's cult in the midst of the ongoing war. Shamura had been away to run an errand before the attack, and thus was unable to do anything about it (in parallel to how they did very little to protect their siblings from both Narinder and the Lamb). They were very close to their family, and the loss drove them to start finding new family in the form of other orphans they came across. It wasn't just the four who became their adopted siblings, but the others either did not survive, or simply couldn't keep up with Shamura's ambitions - to end the gods whose followers took up arms and cut down everyone Shamura knew.

Throughout their journeys, they intensely studied the ways of war, weaponry, and spellcasting, particularly curses; because, after all, gods could hardly be killed with mere mortal weapons. They also researched a great deal into the gods' crowns, as well as certain immortal entities who weren't quite gods, as the three birds seemed strangely neutral, and amenable to helping anyone who crossed their paths, all without asking for anything in return. Shamura's studies and research grew much easier once they met Kallamar, due to the circumstances of his upbringing.

Kallamar:

Kallamar's well-off but isolated family was wiped out by disease, spread intentionally by those who wanted to quickly wipe out proclaimed heretics, and Kallamar himself nearly died from the sickness, as well. He was found by Shamura, who had only been intending to rob the manor he lived in, but offered to nurse him back to health if he would grant them use of the place as a base of operations. He agreed, so Shamura did as they offered, with some assistance from their entourage, which by that time already included Heket.

Once Kallamar was on the mend, he was informed of precisely who was responsible for the obliteration of his family. He chose to join Shamura's group in seeking vengeance, and began to learn how to utilize various weapons from them. Due to his cowardly tendencies, though, on his own time, he focused more on subtler methods that he could use up until being backed into a corner - poisons, mainly, before expanding to contagions created from a mix of curses and natural elements. Kallamar's manor remained a base of operations for the siblings up until the beginnings of the Old Faith were established, and their respective temples constructed.

Heket:

Heket was an only child, and her parents both starved to death; they were farmers whose livestock died out across several consecutive crop failures. Those failures were made worse by intentional sabotage from several feuding cults situated nearby, as none of them wanted to risk letting their enemies barter for critical food supplies. Heket managed to survive by consuming her own parents' bodies, as well as those of dead cultists she came across while trying to go on living as close to normally as she could, though when it was realized that she was alone, her home was invaded while she was out looking for more food. Furious at the audacity, she torched the place with the interlopers still inside, and set out in search of a new home - and more food, which she was not picky about.

She would steal anything she could to eat from campsites and cult grounds, and for good measure, she would set anything she couldn't carry with her ablaze before moving on - equal parts distraction and a means to starve out potential enemies. She crossed paths with Shamura by chance - alone - and attempted to rob them of their food. They were more clever than she expected, though, and by now already used to desperately hungry orphans trying to nick a meal. To her surprise, Shamura invited her to eat with their small group, and between the food and the talk of bringing down the many warring cults one by own, Heket decided to continue traveling with Shamura - whether they wanted her to or not. Fortunately, they did, as she was already quickly learning the tricks to thievery, and had a knack for utilizing explosives. (I will die on this hill. She blew me up so many times, Kallamar had nothing on her.)

Leshy:

Leshy's nomadic family was killed in a freak accident - a lightning strike right in the middle of a random ambush by traveling cultists. Being little more than a toddler, Leshy initially survived by burrowing out of sight, and then by disarming the attackers with how deceptively cute he looked. On a whim, one of the cultists decided to try to indoctrinate him, and he was carried along with the group until nightfall - after which, in a fit of pure unhinged toddler fury, he wrecked their campsite AND their faces before fleeing underground. He survived just short of feral for a while, catching his food (animals and people) in the pit traps he'd learned to make from his family. After that, he wound up wandering close enough to Kallamar's manor to spot a group of kids heading inside, and decided to be the little menace he is.

He started off digging traps around the manor - and definitely ate at least one of the orphan kids - before graduating to breaking and entering. He nicked food, toys, and/or weapons each time, mostly just for the fun of it, before Shamura eventually managed to catch Leshy in a trap he couldn't burrow or bite his way out of (and his cute puppy eyes were not going to work on them anymore - not after the first two dozen times). Kallamar attempted to make Leshy fix all that he'd broken in the manor, as well as return everything he'd stolen, with very minimal success. Heket wound up being the one to bring Leshy more or less to heel, mostly by feeding him and showing off all the cool ways she could blow things up, which he found entertaining enough to become slightly more bearable around other people. For a long time, however, having him around was more or less like living with a half-feral and all-manic hyperactive animal without any concept of or care for social niceties. Kallamar did not appreciate all the property damage, but conceded to Shamura's certainty that Leshy's...unique skillset would be useful going forward. (Naturally, they were not wrong.)

Narinder:

In keeping with parallels - more than one this time, even - Narinder attacked and killed his own family. Eventually, at least, and as retribution, because his parents saw him as the runt of the litter, too needy and not worth the effort it would take to keep him alive. He was not merely abandoned, but sold off for a pittance to cultists, who wanted to sacrifice him to the then-god of death. Being as small as he was at the time, however, he was able to squeeze out of his shackles and wriggle from his chains on the way to the cult's ritual grounds, sneaking away while his captors were distracted. He did not go far, however - he was too furious with them for that. He trailed after them, instead, waiting until nightfall, and strangled the leader in their sleep with the very chains they'd put on him, before cutting the throats of the rest of the sleeping cultists. He then attempted to track down his traitorous family by following scent trails, but was soon thwarted by a downpour. Still, he vowed to find them one day, and sacrifice them the same way he would have been had he not escaped.

The deets for his meeting his siblings are in the prior post, so that really just leaves his family's deaths. After Shamura began their rise to power, their growing influence - along with help from the other siblings - made it easy for Narinder to discover where his parents and littermates had taken refuge. With his own influence in Shamura's budding cult, he faced no issues with ordering his "family" to be brought to him for sacrifice, though he did briefly fly off the handle and cut down his father for being the one to suggest selling the runt. Speaking of which - Narinder was quite delighted to let his so-called family see how much bigger he was than all of them by that point. He was equally delighted to behead every last family member himself, and to desecrate their remains by putting various pieces of them on display around the cult grounds. I'd say his adoptive siblings were disturbed by this, but. Obviously, every last one is fucked up enough to where we all know they weren't. <:]

At some point I'll share the toxic obsessive Narilamb AU that draws from this backstory, lmao, but for now I need to sleep. X_X;

[moodymisty]

Hello, Mortarion simp club member #7 here. First off, sorry for the fungus.

Secondly, imagine word getting to The Emperor that Mortarion had found a partner. None of the primarchs ever got married (except for Fulgrim) so I’d imagine it’d be big news. To find out that any of his sons, let alone shit-bag himself, found someone to love would shake him to his core.

Now, I am a very small woman so it might just be projecting, but just imagining The Emperor of Mankind staring you down and shaking his head like,

“This is inhumane. It’s almost comical, how absurd this is. How have you not been ripped in half, or accidentally crushed underfoot?”

I know deep in my soul that Morty would be the most gentle of the primarchs because he’s never had anyone be gentle with him before. That man would start sobbing immediately if he so much as accidentally bumped into you. Full on ‘please don’t leave me’ breakdown if he hurts you in any way.

The fungus is amungus.

Honestly given the way that the Emperor thinks of Mortarion as sort of a failure among his 'sons', and has just abandoned any possibility of him achieving greatness, him accomplishing something so 'odd' would definitely get a query or two. This behavior sounds more like Sanguinius or Fulgrim, not Mortarion.

Also the Emperor saying that it's 'inhumane' fucking killed me. I don't know why him saying that in response to one of the Primarchs picking up a lover is so fucking funny but also kind of accurate? I mean, pulling a normal human into what is basically a small pantheon of demigods isn't exactly a good idea. Not to mention the dangers involved that you could go on about for hours. Both being around and with a Primarch. It's less that The Emperor would ever care about a singular human, but he more so just finds the absurdity of it, amusing. Or as amusing as someone like him can.

I definitely think out of all the (future) heretic Primarchs, Mortarion, Fulgrim, Magnus, and Lorgar would probably both be the most gentle. He's also horrifically damaged (which Primarch isn't lmao) and has a slew of self image issues. He might not cry, but he'll sure as hell give you the stars as long as you don't drop to the wayside like everyone else in his life. You're the figurative jewel of his eye, and nothing will take you away from him.

He loves you, you love him, it's awful and harmful and will probably end terribly but damn does it taste good.

Also, a snippet to go with this. Enjoy.

Mortarion/Fem!Reader, No extreme warnings apart from typical 40kness and hinting at a toxic, obsessive relationship. I'm actually really coming around to liking Morty, if I never get a chance I really want to write some of my personal ideas for him

That meeting still lingers on your mind. You look out the window and wring your hands, trying to figure out why your heart continues to pound so hard against your chest. When it doesn't stop, you sit down and fail to try and stop your mind from running it through once again.

You met The Emperor.

You met the father- or simply creator as some of the Primarchs refer to him- to the Primarch you could possibly call your beloved.

It had been a surprise meeting; You were already so worn and tired from speaking to Primarch Fulgrim, shoulders tense and mind strained. While you might be close to Mortarion, being in the presence of Primarchs is still such an intense and formal ordeal, that forces you to carefully watch your words, your tone, your body language.

Just as The Phoenician seemed to be getting bored of you, as you kept politely avoiding giving him any worthwhile and intimate details about Mortarion, The Emperor had apparently come to see the lover of his fourteenth son; The first of them to ever take someone that could be potentially called a consort. It has been the rumor of the palace for days now, and it's seems to have spread now even to the Golden Throne.

He only ever spoke one sentence to you. And it will likely remain the only one. You would delude yourself into thinking that you have any business with The Emperor, beyond what little falls from Mortarion's lips. Either way, his words and voice with stay within your mind for as long as you live.

He looked down on you, barely able to reach his hips, and almost seemed to sigh. As much as a man such as him could. When you dared look at him, seeing any emotion on a man so borderline ethereal seemed so out of place. Though it was only there for a moment, and then his expression turned to that non-emotion of cold stoicism.

"I should not be surprised, to see he chose someone so small they cannot think to stand against him."

You decided to keep your head respectfully bowed in his presence, but you can't help but furrow your brow ever the slightest at his cryptic speech.

"You fraternize with the most fractured of all my sons. Do be careful with him."

Did he mean to be careful around him? Or to be careful with him? How could someone that in the grandness of things, as insignificant as you, be able to do either?

You pull yourself from being lost in your own thoughts and look out over the palace skyline, seeing nothing but golden peaks as far as the eye can see. It's inconceivable in size, that just viewing it doesn't give even the slightest hint as to it's sheer scale. And from what little you've heard, it's not even close to it's completion. New Praetorian Rogal Dorn has been continuing it's construction for years now, and will likely continue for decades more.

The soft sound of a door opening forces you to look towards it. Mortarion enters, and instantly comes closer. You haven't seen him since you had first encountered Fulgrim. You assume he had more urgent matters than batting away his fellow Primarchs away from the new thing of interest.

Your face softens as he comes closer, seeing his shoulders rolled forward slightly. The way he looks is a dead giveaway that he is in a terrible mood; Not uncommon whenever his so called brothers are involved. You assume that he is going to want a moment alone, and get up to take your leave. You'd heard nothing but his lamenting about hating the idea of returning to Terra for days now, but it seems you're wrong.

Before you have a chance to step away and leave the massive room that serves as the most private of his chambers, Mortarion quickly snatches your arm at the wrist. Though given the size of his hand in comparison to yours, his hand grasps a significant portion of your forearm.

"Do not leave."

You look at him, the way his grey hair shadows his thin face, and how he seems even more drained of energy. He towers over you, but yet he seems almost ungainly and defeated.

The Pale King orders you, but his words are almost dipped in something you might consider calling desperation.

He has told you before that interacting with his fellow Primarchs and The Emperor foremost is something he hates most. That it all reminds him of stolen revenge and his dead world, how he's overcast by the shadows of men like Sanguinius and Horus. You knew he would be more fragile, harder to deal with, but you didn't expect him to seem almost, humiliated. You're used to him being impossible to contend with, spiteful, hateful, angry; Not this.

His hand grips tighter when you don't immediately come back, enough that it begins to hurt. You sit back down and he lets go, only to cup his hand tightly around your jaw. He tilts your head up to look at him. It hurts your neck a bit from the intense angle, and your much smaller hands grip his wrist to try and gain leverage.

You watch his eyes glance over your face, his own slum and demoralized. His grip on your face softens just a bit so he isn't yanking you around like some sort of doll. At least not as much.

He sighs, and leans down enough so that his forehead touches yours, long strands of limp grey hair brushing against your face, and nothing more is said.

[cultoftrinkets]

Interest has been shown. The first page exists below.

Yet sacrificial beast take heed, for a crown cannot sit upon two brows.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t been warned, now that Lambert thought about it. What god wanted freedom without first maintaining the powers he already had? And truly, had Lambert expected to survive the conclusion of their deal? Certainly not, some part of them had already known that their fate would likely take a twist, from the desperate clings of survival to the turbulent unknown. 

Still, they’d been…optimistic. 

They’d let themselves become attached to their new life, as best they could in the throes of grief. Replacing distant cloudy figures of guardianship with their first mentor, Ratau. The giggles and games played with friends long past haunted their dreams, and yet they awoke to equally friendly faces, all praising their name, all overjoyed at their deeds. Lambert had grown fond of them, their little flock, built from the stragglers of those not unlike them; family gone, friends sacrificed to the old faith, and yet they remained. Scarred, yet alive, and given new purpose within their cult, to be whatever they wanted to be. It was their loyalty that kept Lambert living- for every lamb needed a flock to support them- and together, from one, to two, to three, to four, to five, to over 30, Lambert’s flock, faith, and power grew. 

They’d let themselves become used to it. The clack of rolling dice during knucklebones, Ratau’s silly laughter each time he won a measly ten gold from them, the rowdiness of the shack as it slowly filled with Ratau’s most loyal, goading them on. The nights spent curled up in their tent, gazing out at their flock- cult, Lambert, cult- and watching their breaths rise and fall steadily in slumber. The warmth of the ovens, the steady flow of water onto the farm beds, the toiling of their followers as they collected resources for their leader to use whenever they pleased. Lambert had never fashioned themselves a chieftain in their mind, had left such fantasies to their older siblings, who had more hold on the title then they ever had. Still, when they looked upon their cult, met with awe-filled eyes and enthusiastic expressions, they wondered if maybe they would have been a good one. If perhaps, under their rule, their family might have survived. 

They’d never know. Their family was dead, gone, taken from them by the bishops, and soon, they would be too. They’d gotten the revenge that they’d wanted, hadn’t they? Lambert had slain each of the people responsible for the eradication of their closest, had seen to it that they were brought low, their heretical cults diminished to scraps. This was the next logical step; they had traded all of this for the eventual freedom of The One Who Waits. And wait their master certainly had. 

“Return the crown to me, and embrace the end that awaits you,” The One Who Waits had uttered, a decree and demand all at once. “With this last sacrifice of my most devoted follower, I will be freed!” 

There was such joy on his face, disbelieving, hopeful. Lambert couldn’t stand to look at it. 

Rather, they looked up at the cages on either side of The One Who Waits, where their followers stood, looking on with wide, tearful eyes. What other meaning could one take from such a being when they told your leader to lay their life down? Lambert could see they understood, even if the missing context was surely eating away at them. This was it. The end of Lambert’s life. But not, they knew, the end of their cult. The One Who Waits would need them to continue generating his power, at least for a time, and that would assure their safety, even when Lambert’s own was in question. 

They gave their cult- their flock, oh, their flock- an encouraging smile. The same quiet comfort they gifted to each huddled creature awaiting their fate with quiet sobs, only to be met with a lamb whose hands brought only care. A gentle spirit, who led with mercy and joy before all else. They had never sacrificed a follower; their first and last would watch this spectacle, would witness their leader be brought as low as the bishops before them. The world held itself in silence. 

Lambert obeyed. Met the eyes of the three before them head-on. Aym and Baal looked on as passively as they ever had, though they could see the held winces as their knees hit the middle of the sacrificial circle. It was an all-too-familiar position, and yet so different from their first encounter with execution. Here, they looked into the face of death himself, and their fate would be found in freeing him rather than keeping him chained. It was a worthy goal, one that they were sure their family would be proud of, when they passed to the other side. Hopefully, the world The One Who Waits imagined in his incarceration was one of peace, too. With blooming flowers, joy, plentiful food, and restful nights. 

Lambert closed their eyes to the cries of their followers, a gust of air past their neck. 

They awoke once more with a gasp, hands scrabbling on cold stone, shuddering in the brightness. 

A gentle breeze flowed through the air, breaking the warmth of the sun. Quiet conversations and amusement reached Lambert’s ears, and when they squinted into the light, it revealed flowers of all colors, rolling fields blessed with a bountiful harvest, and the sight of their flock, dotted across the landscape, eyes darting over to them warily every once in a while. Waiting? Why would they wait for them? No, they couldn’t see Lambert. So, they weren't completely dead, then? Perhaps they’d been made into a ghost, trapped by magical energies. Was that even possible?

“No, it isn’t. You’re quite alive. At least, you are now.”

Lambert’s head whipped around, into the darkness, and they paused for a moment, eyes adjusting down into one focused point. There he was, their incarnation of death, their master. The same pride in his eyes, the same gentleness on his face as he once held when comforting a frightened lamb after their sudden death moments before. There. In Lambert’s temple, where they’d delivered sermons praising the name of The One Who Waits, insisting their followers direct more worship to him than themselves, though the sweet creatures hadn’t quite listened. The red crown- once a constant companion of Lambert’s that they’d treated with care and shown the beauties and horrors of the world- now sat on its owner's head, scarlet eye fixed on Lambert as it always had been. 

“Why?” Lambert made their way to their feet, trembling. Aym and Baal, still at either side of their master, started forward to catch them before their legs could give out. “My sacrifice was meant to free you. It worked, right? I didn’t…I didn’t fail, did I?” It certainly didn’t look like Lambert had; The One Who Waits, once in chains, now moved with ease and grace. With the crown returned, and the veil removed, he looked entirely different. Stronger, assured, and lighter than the burdened shoulders of before. 

“You did not fail.” The One Who Waits blinked, and Lambert found themselves taken aback. Why did their master exhibit such confusion? Was such a question so out of the blue, when they’d been about to die, and could still feel the air in their lungs, the beat of their heart? As if reading their thoughts- and Lambert gulped when they realized he probably could- their master flinched, the look of pain on his face a stab to Lambert’s heart. 

“No. No, I would not…I was not specific enough.” He sighed. “I needed to sacrifice you as an act of ritualistic integrity. That wasn’t false to believe. However, nothing prevented me from bringing you back in the aftermath. Your end was to be brief. I needed your life force to break my chains; now you have it back, albeit in a less empowered position.” Before their eyes, he shrunk from the looming presence of before to something more familiar, alike to the cats they’d brought back to the cult from Darkwood. On either side of Lambert, Aym and Baal retreated, their closeness a comfort as Lambert struggled to remain standing. I was never meant to die permanently.

The lamb’s eyes darted up, meeting those of The One Who Waits-

“Your death was always meant to be short. And it’s Narinder. I no longer wait for anything.” It was a familiar smirk that danced across his features now, so similar to the one he gave them each time they returned to him, bloodied from fights with his siblings, and yet triumphant with their hearts in Lambert’s hands. 

“What are your desires, my lord? How can I serve you now?” Lambert straightened, though their knees still wobbled. How pathetic they must look, wobbling in front of him now, as if they held any use to him. Ah, a dampening to his smile. They would need to be more careful with their thoughts than they ever had been before, if they wanted to obscure from him how- grassy fields, their cult’s delighted exclamations, grass covered in blood, the wails of their mother as her child left her side, forced away, lamp posts wrapped in leafy green glowing through the night, torches in a writhing dance, trees on fire, the eyes of their lord, The One, Narinder, exasperation pulling his muzzle-

“Don’t bother. Your thoughts are those of a mortal, even within your immortal state. Nothing you think should shock me more than any of your followers.” Contemplation, and then, “As for what you can do for me; you may build a cult in my name, as vast and great as any of the old faith, if not greater.” A weight settled upon Lambert’s brow; a temple window gave them access to their reflection, a golden crown resting atop their head, that had before been a sign of discipleship. Atop their head, it felt as tangible as the crown had. “Do we have a deal?” 

Lambert gazed into four scarlet eyes, filled with pride. With a smile, whispered, “Absolutely.”

[halobirthdays]

Happy birthday to Sesa 'Refumee!

Today is his -475th birthday!

'Refumee was assigned to the Fleet of Particular Justice, lead by then-Supreme Commander Thel 'Vadam(ee), during the close of the Human-Covenant war. His unit was sent to investigate a Forerunner gas mine for study and artifact retrieval. When most of the Fleet of Particular Justice was destroyed after the events of Installation 04, 'Refumee and his unit were left stranded at the gas mine.

Shortly thereafter, 343 Guilty Spark, who fled Installation 04 following its destruction, met 'Refumee at the gas mine. Spark and 'Refumee engaged in a lengthy discussion about their respective origins, during which Spark exposed the true purpose of the Halos, the fate of the Forerunners, and the reality of the Flood. 'Refumee was convinced, and cut off communication with the fleet. He considered telling 'Vadam about his revelations, but at this point, the Supreme Commander had already been publicly disgraced and appointed as Arbiter, creating an obstacle in contacting him.

However, 'Vadam would seek him out on his own--sent to kill 'Refumee for his proselytization at the behest of the Hierarchs. 'Vadam and Rtas 'Vadum led a strike team to the gas mine in search of the heretic leader. In an attempt to evade his pursuers, he released the Flood, but his plan would backfire and he would eventually become cornered by 'Vadam.

Once confronted, 'Refumee tried to convince 'Vadam of the truth. The Arbiter was expectedly resistant to his words, but did not attack until 'Refumee himself became hostile. 'Vadam killed 'Refumee, putting an end to his teachings but planting the first seeds of doubt in his mind.

In the post-Schism world, 'Vadam recognizes that 'Refumee was entirely correct about his revelations, and regrets taking his life. He has attempted to make amends with 'Refum keep, whose members are given special consideration to join the Swords of Sanghelios.

[arifeathers]

Hey uh I know u already did some stuff for heretic dogday and his human self but mind giving more hcs and info on him and his relationship with theo catnap?

Sure! Here we go:

Before meeting Theo, Samuel used to be friends with three other orphans named Joseph, Eliza and Kalia. But Samuel broke ties with them when they kept bullying Theo.

Samuel went through foster home to foster home for a variety of reasons before ending up in Playcare. He never mentioned why he kept switching from foster home to foster home, not even to Theo, but it was one of the few things he was able to bond with the latter.

Samuel met the Prototype when Theo introduced him to the experiment. To make it plainly, he was terrified and intrigued then extremely grateful and loyal until… sometime after the Hour of Joy.

When he learned he was about to get adopted *cough* chosen for testing *cough* he was extremely worried and unhappy despite the party that was thrown for him, due to his concern for Theo. This was what drove him to help Theo and the Prototype in their attempt to escape from the factory, leading to both Theo and his fate sealed as Catnap and DogDay.

As a result for settling into his new body much more quickly compared to Theo. DogDay was allowed to help out the orphans in Playcare with the other Smiling Critters. But he would often cause trouble, in order to get thrown back into the same cage where Catnap was kept to stay with him, despite the torture he would receive from the other workers.

While he was nowhere near as fanatic as Catnap before the Hour of Joy and changing his opinion on the Prototype. Dogday used to feel a great amount of gratitude and looked up to the experiment due to saving his life along with Theo’s. Until the end of Hour of Joy when he realised it was all for nothing and led to the death of many innocent people, leading him to turn traitor.

[cryptids-of-spielzeit]

Purpureo Sub Caelo

Sermon 2: Dubium

(A Grinning Cat Story)

Why? That was the question that haunted his mind since that night. Why did he let him live? But why would his god want him dead? Cain killed his brother not because God told him to, but in envy of God's blessings to Abel. His god told him to kill the Dog, already beaten and broken by his hand. In a situation like his, a righteous and loving being, as he believed the Prototype to be, would spare him for overcoming such great lengths.

So why? What would the Dog do to warrant his death? If it was for his heresy, then maybe. The others went against him, and they met their end, so why not the Dog? But, the Dog...Dogday. Dogday cared about Theo. They were kindred spirits, yet different all the same. While the others played their roles to a tee, like they were born to be them, he and Dogday were aware. Aware of their circumstance, their pain. But while Theo went to the Prototype for solace, Dogday kept smiling. He was optimistic, but not because he had to be, but because he earnestly knew things would get better. Maybe that's why he left him to suffer, made him watch as everyone he loved die, left him to rot. Like Cain unto Abel. Why would the sun shine where light doesn't exist?

Yet, there was light.

And that oddly made Theo happy. He only really wanted freedom for all. But his god couldn't have heretics, he was told that they were as bad as the doctors, as bad as the company. If they didn't want to leave, not give his god a chance? Then why suffer in that material Hell any longer? Why? Why, that question, that word, it wouldn't get out. And it asked, more and more, again and again.

Why did you kill them?

Why did you follow it?

Why did you love it so?

Why do you feel guilt?

Why.

Do.

You.

Hate.

Yourself?

And suddenly, like a leaf in the wind, the word blew away. There was someone else there, in the distance. A man in green, a big hat on his head. He just stood there. He looked familiar.

Theo slowly walked toward the man. A brave one, this one, he didn't run, he didn't shoot. He didn't even scream. He just stood. They were face to face now.

"Theo. How's life been treating you?"

The guard. Now he knew, he survived! The one who "called in sick". Fate is a strange thing.

"....it has been fine, sir. Why are you here?"

"I could ask the same thing, stretch. I'm the ranger around here. And I've heard that a couple of people have been hurt in these woods. A few of them with claw marks. Care to explain?"

"...he told me that if anyone came near us, give them a warning-"

"A warning?! Some of those people are dead, Theodore! What have they done?!"

"I DON'T KNOW!....I-I don't know....I was just doing as he instructed..."

"And is he still out there?..."

"Yes..."

"That's all I needed to hear. Theo. I hope things will get better."

Angelo walked off, as casually as a morning stroll. Theo could only watch as he got smaller and smaller, eventually blending in with the green all around him.

What did they do? The only reason they killed some families that day was because they openly supported that godforsaken factory. They were blind to the horrors underneath their very feet, and they had to be punished for their blissful ignorance. These people in the woods looked to have no knowledge of the place, so why bother?

He walked back to his god's oak. There were more bodies now, all without their skin. All human. Some a lot shorter than the others.

"Why?..."

[i-dont-evenplaygenshinanymore]

Prophecy

Fem!Reader, don't like don't read. Religious symbolism and imagery and themes.

————02————

The people of Teyvat will never be as united as they'll be that day. They will never again come together under the same sense of camaraderie, nor will they ever feel again the taste of unity's warmth.

The Imposter will watch them with undisturbed serenity, uncaring of the blade above her neck, ready to take her sacrilegious life. She will watch them with the conviction they are wrong. She will watch the Creator be taken to her magnanimous golden throne, made by the hands of the late Geo Archon himself, and she will smile with heretic amusement at the righteous fury in the Creator's expression.

“Any last words, heretic?” the Creator will ask, ushering the silence to befall upon the place.

“Even defective dolls will be loved by their doll maker, She Who Wears My Face,” the Imposter will answer calmly, no fear nor anger in her being. “I do love you, despite everything. After all... I made you.”

“You insolent–!” the Shogun will exclaim, ready to attack the Imposter. “Disrespectful to the very end!”

“Celestia forgets who I am,” the Imposter will continue, not bothered by the imminent threat. “Well, I can't blame them, I had forgotten at some point. Go on, then. Doom yourselves. It's not me who should fear death.”

And with a gesture from the Creator, the blades will fall, slicing the Imposter's neck to separate her wretched head from her miserable shoulders.

A gasp.

The red blood that will ooze from the cut will corrode the altar. It will rot the vegetation as it gets drank by the ground below. It will poison the skies above as it evaporates as hellish miasma. The brilliant red will then become the color of tar, darker even than the most hopeless pits of the Abyss.

The water will swallow the land and poison everything it touches. The land will crack open and drown everything that stands. The wind will cut everything in the path of its storm. The fire will brand everything unlucky enough to survive its wrath. The ice will break everything that dares face its biting hate. The lightning will burn everything no matter how well hidden. The vegetation will abandon everything that eats.

Life will meet its end. Teyvat will choose its end, and the people of Teyvat will be abandoned by their how world, much how they abandoned their true Creator, and Celestia–

Celestia will pray for the first time since greed overtook their hearts.

And when Barbatos opens his eyes, he can only ask one thing to the divine being who's lap his head rests.

“My Lady, is that a premonition if what could happen... Or a retelling of what already happened?”

He is met with a serene expression.

[moonstonedrawsrandomly]

“Any luck?”

“No, they’re still asleep”

Noelle said as she finished changing their bandages. Shamura, who had been incapacitated and unconscious, began to stir, lying in their bed. Noelle and Moses had been patiently watching over them, still wondering if they will ever wake up.

“…”

“!”

“High bishop Shamura?!?”

They both said. The spider opened their eyes. Weak but still getting up. Moses helped them upwards.

“Are you alright?”

Moses said. Noelle was rushing to grab some water. They drink it. Then they looked around the room. Only one crown was within the walls.

“Where is my family?”

Noelle looked at moses.

“They went to fight Narinder once and for all….they left hours ago”

She said. Shamura then gets up.

“Please, your wounds-“

“My wounds mean nothing if he levels my family. We must go.”

They said. It didnt seem like anything was going to stop Shamura.

“Noelle…Moses…I never properly thanked you both for your contribution to our family. If- no, when we return I will grant you luxuries beyond your wildest dreams.“

They said. Moses kneels to them and so does Noelle.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for us. I hope this isn’t the end.”

“It will not be. But we must be prepared. Noelle, I hate to ask you, but will you come as well? I fear we may have injured among them.”

Noelle nodded but quickly went to grab her medical kit. Then they all teleported to the last known location where Gaia’s trail went cold. When they got there, the fight was in full swing, Gaia just entered the battle but something was wrong, she wasn’t using her powers. Just standing there.

“Gaia, why aren’t you moving…”

They see the two heretics of Narinder get ready to strike her down and yet she still didnt move. Without warning, they took off.

“My bishop!”

“Wait!”

Without warning, They take off towards Gaia. Noelle and Moses cannot keep up with them as they sprint like lightning across the field.

“MOM!”

“Move!”

Within a split second The two spears met their mark with a familiar axe. Gaia didnt move because she was scared, she didnt move because she knew they would protect her. She felt their crown in the vicinity and trusted them. This shocked the others.

“Shamura?!?”

“Elder sibling!!!”

“Your okay!”

They used their strength to throw the other cats off of Gaia, crashing to the ground in front of Narinder. Noelle and Moses finally catches up to them. Moses joins the fight next to Fernilla, realizing that her crown was black.

“My goddess! Your a Bishop!”

“I know right? Now, let’s protect the others and Defeat that Heretic!”

Moses nodded. Noelle was not saying anything but going immediately to treat Kallamar. He had the most visible blood on them. He stops her.

“No lamb! Go to Leshy, he’s been poisoned. Give him charcoal and bandage him up.”

He said. She goes straight to Leshy and pulls out charcoal from her pack. He was not really responsive, whatever poison is in his system was wreaking havoc in his body.

“Eat this”

She said. Despite the lack of flavor, he ate the charcoal. She began to administer medicine to him.

The middle of this battlefield stood the two titans of the Clan and the disowned son of them both. Heket, Kallamar, and Fernilla were behind them awaiting instructions with weapons drawn.

“You really made Fernilla a bishop…”

“We had no choice-“

“No, thats not it, its only been hours…and yet, shes already showing her worth and appreciation for this Clan. Clearly I underestimated her.”

They said. Narinder gritted his teeth.

“Why are you still alive?”

“I can ask you the same question…Gaia…if we want to he through with him, take out Ayn and Baal, I will deal with him”

Gaia looked at them, their axe in their hand. Theyre in no shape to fight, but shw didnt question it.

“…I trust your judgement. Heket, Fernilla, Kallamar, focus your attention on Ayn and Baal”

Both cats gripped their spears. It’s time to fight.

“Kill them”

“Yes master”

“Focus on the others. Shamura, I will deal with YOU!”

Narinder said as he lunged for Shamura. Narinder was adequately using his powers but knowing he is going against Shamura, he had no need to hold back. Neither did Shamura, as one of their blows throws him back pretty far but not off his feet. The exchange of blows continue, while Leshy was still on the ground.

“Hurrrgg…”

The poison, whatever this was, was wreaking havoc on his body. His mouth was turning purple, his leg was twitching and he was drooling so heavily. The effects have stopped but he desperately tried to vomit the poison.

“Noelle…”

“Leshy…Leshy…dont die on me!”

She said. Leshy, being the younger and less experienced member of the family, didnt know how to resist the poison, it needed to run its course.

“Noelle…please…just leave me…you’ll get killed!”

“No, im not abandoning you! Leshy, im not leaving you!”

Noelle stubbornly stayed by his side, still trying to get him to vomit and keep him comfortable. The fight was still raging on In front of them. Noelle was more worried if one of them got wise and realized he easily could be killed. He is defenseless at this moment. Then Leshy saw it.

“Noelle…behind you!”

He croaked. Someone DID get wise. Baal. He lifted his spear over her head as she looked on in horror.

“Move lamb and maybe our God will spare you in the afterlife!”

Baal said. Get Leshy while he was weak and down. Leshy couldn’t move. Noelle then did something foolish. She threw her body ontop of Leshy

“Noelle no! You need to run!”

“…”

Ayn had the others distracted until Kallamar realized what was transpiring.

“Where’s the other one?!?”

He said. Kallamar then noticed him by Leshy.

“Youve chosen poorly. You wish to perish along with the heretic. Then youll die WITH him!”

“Leshy!”

This got the attention of the others. Kallamar raced to Leshy as it came down on Noelle’s head…but in a twist of fate… Noelle held it up with her hand. This shocked everyone.

“What?!?”

“Impossible!”

They said. Now Noelle remembered the green mark on the back of her hand. She pushed Baal’s spear away from Leshy. Realizing what she’s done and what she has, she looks at his crown.

“Green crown, may I borrow you for a bit?”

She asked timidly. The green crown obediently went to Noelle and places itself on her head. Her eyes turned green and Leshy’s power filled her body.

“Your objective is to protect master, but I believe I don’t have to tell you that. You have my strength and agility, grab his sword!”

She picked up Leshy’s sword. Clearly too big for her, but she swung it with ease. Narinder was in shock.

“How…why?!? Why is she lending him her vessle? Without a fight?!? She was supposed to be mine, why is she obeying him?!?”

Shamura was actually amused at Narinder failing to understand that people have free will to do what they please.

“Its a little thing called Love and Loyalty-oh thats right, yoy wouldn’t know, would you?”

He snarled. Shamura was not holding back in any regard. Their snarky comments were gnawing at him.

“Agh!”

“Baal!”

Baal hits the ground, covered in blood. Kallamar got the jump on him and stabbed him. Ayn was in peril looking at his sibling, bow lying dead under Kallamar’s feet.

“Hmph! Baal was weak, Ayn. Finish them. I will take down Shamura so DO YOUR JOB!”

He said. Narinder then, with his powers , opened a portal back to his domain, where all of his stored power was. He needed the reserves if he wishes to kill them all. Narinder leaves their body, leading his family into the domain that they trapped him in. Ayn looks on as Heket lunges towards him.

“Gah!”

It didn’t take much to fell Ayn after all of the fighting, he wasn’t paying attention. Heket made quick work of him.

“Gaia, Fernilla, and Moses…stay behind with Leshy, everyone else? We are finishing this”

“Shamura, let me go with you”

“No, you must stay here”

“But your-“

Shamura gives her a look.

“Gaia, this is MY MONSTER, I have to put him down…protect Leshy…if I do not return…you know what happened”

They said. Shamura takes his half and follow Narinder to his domain.

“Fernilla, take Leshy and Moses back to the Clan.”

“But what about you?”

“I’ll stay…now go!”

Fernilla takes Leshy and Moses back home. Gaia stays behind, the Void still open. She sits down, now smelling the death that the two bodies are reeking only being dead for approximately an hour. She looks on as her partner and her kids, including Noelle went off into the void. Gaia clutches her heart, wishing she could go, but Leshy’s condition is more important right now.

“In the event they fall, Leshy will take over the Clan…I need to be ready to seal this hole if need be…and with me in it.”

She said. She still looked on, heartbroken that it had come to this…

TBC

[liviavanrouge]

Twisted Playtime AU

Livia walked with her grabpack, looking around with narrowed eyes. "Thanks for your old one." She looked back at Minako eyes narrowed suspiciously at the girl. Even after they met up she held no trust with this person who's been hiding inside the factory for who knows how damn long. "Yeah.."Livia mutters turning away. "Let's split up from here.."Livia suggests not wanting to be stuck with this girl for too long. "Why would we split up when there are death toys"Minako demands eyes narrowing. Livia turned away, not wanting to tell the other girl that she was just a sacrifice rather than a partner. "We may be able to find clues, so we should split up here and meet back outside.."Livia responds walking away. "Alright.."Minako huffed turning and going the opposite way. She opened doors and walked through halls, feeling as if she was wondering blindly around in this place which wouldn't be too much of a surprise to say the least. Maybe she should have brought her sacrifice.

She walked through a cell like place, frowning. "You're Poppy's Angel, come to save us." She froze and moved back alarmed, finding DogDay there. But with his legs gone and arms strapped to the wall. "Nothing left to save, not here..."Dogday went on as she fully faced him. "You're in Catnap's home, Angel." She glanced around, wanting to be sarcastic with him but not finding now the right time to do so. Not when the big guy was like this. "Their home." Her attention flickered back to him after a quick look around for any danger but found none coming her way. "A million pairs of eyes are on you now...watching, waiting...hungry"Dogday continued on. She stepped into the cell, eyes flickering between his strapped in arms. He watched her for a moment then looked down and continued, "They want nothing more to crawl beneath your skin..and eat away at you bit my little bit- fill what feels empty inside themselves." Livia looked at him, having already had an encounter about that, having picked up on it straight away.

"That...thing...Catnap." He paused for a moment at her sharpened gaze. "Catnap?"Livia repeats quietly. "Yes..the Prototype is his god and this is what he does to heretics, these little toys follow Catnap to avoid that very fate and in return, they are fed." A gasping breath came from him, her hand raising but stopping midway when she reached to touch him. "We tried to fight it, the Prototype's control......I'm..the last of the Smiling Critters.."Dogday sighed his head bowed. "Listen to me, you need to get out of this place, you need to live!" She covered her mouth, a muffled retort coming out not wanting to hurt his feelings with anything she had to say about the situation she knew about. "You and Poppy can fix this-" Hah, as if she'd trust Poppy. Kissy Missy maybe but Poppy. One shouldn't hold their breath and hope. "-end this madness, the torment, the-" She leaned close waiting for him to continue. "Oh no...OH NO!" Her eyes widened, looking at the holes in the wall.

"Leave me, please!" She turned to leave then stopped and sighed. GOD DAMN IT! WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER AND SAVING EVERYONE!? First Minako now this Idiot. She whipped around and fired one of her hands, snatching Dogday off the wall. She caught him and fell over but shot up with him on her back quickly carrying him to the cell doors as the mini critters gave chase. "FUCK OFF!" She stomped her foot collapsing the ground, her eyes wide as she fell, yelling in alarm when she landed the wrong way. "Angel-"Dogday stared. "Fucking ankle-"Livia begins. Her eyes widened when she found herself moving, Dogday crawling quickly through the tunnels. "Hah, good being useful, I don't need anyone slowing me down!"Livia grinned firing flames at the critters, forcing them to scatter. "Fuck you, you damn bugs"Livia yells kicking a Hoppy Hopscotch right in the face when it leapt at her. She shook a Mini Catnap off, yelling in alarm when a Mini Bobby Bearhug scampered up her other leg. 

Her hand grabbed it, slamming it into the wall then tossing it into a leaping Mini Kickinchicken. Dogday crawled out of the little tunnel system, heading full speed towards three slides. "Go down the red one!"Livia orders. "What!?"Dogday rasped out. "TRUST ME!" He hurried to the red slide, Livia pulling a match pack out of her pocket and lighting three of them aflame, tossing two of them quickly in front of the other two slides when they passed. She waited till Dogday reached the slide and slid down to throw the third one, a few shrieks reaching her ears as they slid out of view. Dogday stopped, allowing her to pull out some elastic bandages and wrap her ankle up. She heard giggling and shot up, grabbing Dogday's hands and hauling him up onto her back, running full speed towards a spot where the purple hand was needed. Dogday switched the hands for her, allowing her to press the platform and get launched across, a metal door sliding shut behind them. "Fuck...you're heavy.."Livia grumbled.

She set him down, and pressed a button getting sent up and away from the little freaks. She stepped off and hauled DogDay onto her back, carrying him through a room. She slid down a slide, feeling his arms tighten around her for a split second. Her eyes widened when she found Minako waiting for her holding the phone that let them communicate with Deuce. "He said you were in trouble so I came running, looks like your're all in tact....aside from your friend"Minako grinned looking amused. She glared at the other girl, her legs trembling under the toys weight. "If you don't help me, we're gonna have problems, honey"Livia warns grumbling. A laugh came in response to her warning but Dogday was held between the two, his arms around their necks and they walked to find Poppy and Kissy Missy for their help. "Got your ass kicked?"Minako asks. "Ask me that shit again and I will reach over and personally smack you"Livia huffed scowling. "You like saving people don't you? Who's next? CatNap?" "SHUT UUUP!"

@queen-of-twisted @yukii0nna @writing-heiresss @zexal-club @marrondrawsalot @yumeko2sevilla @abyssthing198

@teddymochi @pekoetiikapu

[blush-blush-imagines]

Hey, I had an idea and had to share. What do you think Stirling, Seth and Reece would do about their S/O mortality? Like, do you think they would try to make them immortal to be forever with them or something like that?

(I just really like the mortal x immortal trope and I want to see if you have any headcanons for those boys)

Honestly yeah Mortal x Immortal is a fun one. Also hi, welcome to another episode of 'One of these boys has a big ho-hum about whether or not they're actually ready to commit to something' why do I keep headcanoning these nerds as having commitment issues

~ Mod Sirina

Stirling

It’s something he ends up thinking of rather often. 

The warmth you stir from deep within his chest is… foreign. Strange and nigh-forgotten, but far from unpleasant. 

Of course an easy fix for it would be turning you.

But learning things like ethics and boundaries have been a real cornerstone in his own personal development since he met you

He himself was never turned, but he has his concerns with it. 

Because enduring things like having your humanity forcefully stripped from you can damage a person, y’know?

As a result it’s a question he ends up pushing off for a while

It’s like a marriage proposal except instead of having the option to back out via divorce, you're just a vampire now and forever have to deal with the fact that your ‘spouse’ is also immortal and bumping into them in the middle of everyday life is even more awkward. 

Because he knows you and he’s hoping you're more interesting than the type to just hide away in a cave or gloomy castle after becoming a vampire. 

Beyond mildly bruising his ego, do you realize how impractical that is? The only real sustenance you get in caves is bears and bats, that’s embarrassing for you. 

So he finally commits to asking you when he knows that A), he can handle it and any consequences that might come from it, and B), that you won’t be stupid about it

The first is a lot harder than the second. 

Seth

It is a thought that enters his head on occasion, and then almost immediately leaves it the second it’s there.

Out of the three Seth has the least amount of worry over it because like. 

Do you have any idea how high Heaven’s standards are? 

So, he just needs to go on a little adventure after you die, figure out which circle you get plopped in and then you can pick up where you left off

He also may or may not gently encourage some more… heretic behavior on your part 

Because the sixth circle isn’t that bad!

You get your own house and it’s nice and toasty! 

…He’s embellishing the truth a little bit, but honestly it’s really hard to sell Literal Hell to most mortals

But hey, at least when you get comfy in your circle and ‘play nice’ by Hell’s standards, he could probably pull some strings. 

He’s an Infernal Prince, he could probably get a soul moved around. He’s already been allowed to keep some in his little collector’s album, what’s one that still has legs, hm?

Reece

Contrary to the other two, Reece doesn’t really have a plan for when you die. 

It’s not like he has the same convenient way to visit you after you die, nor does he have any good ways to make you immortal off-hand. 

…Well. No ethical ones anyways.  

So, when your time finally does come, he does what he knows best and turns back the clock, so to speak. 

And somehow, no matter how often he does it, it’s always exhilarating, every time he gets to meet you again for the first time. 

He gets to continuously see your eyes light up when you see past wonders of the world you could only read about; when you see the farthest spectacles of the universe you could only dream of. 

He’s spent entire lifetimes with you like this, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

…Though some lifetimes are shorter than others, and he’s ashamed to admit that most of the shorter ones are his fault. 

So only give him an awkward laugh on the occasions where he scrambles up to you on your second date with the most relief you’ve seen out of anyone. 

It’s not funny at all, the last time he saw you you were bleeding out in an alien maw, stop laughing. 

…Of course, he’s never admitted to you that he does it at all. Maybe you’d think him odd for it. Maybe you’d try to pry into what alternate timelines were like, and that either goes against his principles or makes him break down blubbering depending on the one he thinks of first. 

[muzzleroars]

I just realised something, Did the citizens of Heaven even know what was going on when Gabriel slaughtered the council? considering he was way more popular than them, they might have kept his light removal quiet until either he succeded in killing V1 (thus proving that he was still under their control so not a threat) or he dies in hell during the attempt (thus no longer being capable of being a threat). Or would the council have been public with it in order to tarnish his image to the populace?

The thought of being an angel just minding your own business only for Gabriel to suddenly appear waving your boss's severed head before teleporting away without any explanation is kind of funny.

SUCH a good question...honestly both options have their risks and benefits, with the council REALLY putting themselves in a precarious position regardless of gabriel's actions at the end of act ii. if they tell the citizenry, it would likely be as you said with a ton of spin in order to make gabriel seem heretical - they already label him a traitor upon his return from gluttony, and this could be the option that gives them the most control over the narrative. they do risk unrest and dissent in the public due to gabriel's popularity, but it's possible the council had enough control at this point to sway opinion in their favor and the masses would believe their words without question. or at least. maybe they would think they did.

however, i personally think it's equally likely they said nothing about the removal in order to give themselves time to move politically. i think this option ultimately runs a higher risk, since gabriel's death would necessitate explanation, but it does allow them a breathing room to construct their story. because no matter what, i think they're keenly aware that losing gabriel in any capacity has a high potential to make them seem weak or corrupt due to his reputation in heaven. whether they tell them he died, was executed, or fell (all depending on the narrative they want to tell), they lost the archangel gabriel under their rule so SOMETHING will feel off no matter the authority they've managed to build.

what's most important in determining which path they took though imo is how common this practice is - does the council regularly rip light from an angel as punishment, or is this like. highly unethical? i sort of lean toward the latter, that to remove the light from an angel may be under their jurisdiction, but it's considered taboo to actually implement as a punishment given how harsh it is and how...god-like it seems. to end an angel's life without that judgment deriving directly from god himself? it seems power mad and presumptuous especially when done to such a high-ranking angel that has never caused issue for anyone else in heaven. and if they have failed so egregiously, why not simply banish them? cast them out to wander a blighted earth or rot in hell, but to kill an angel? it feels like this could be an overstep in their authority in a sense, so i do tend to favor the idea that the citizens didn't know gabriel's situation.

WHICH YEA....MAKES THE END OF ACT II SOMETHING. but i think there was SOME idea that something strange was happening and it was at least well known that gabriel was being run ragged by the council. he obviously isn't the type to let anything show, but many noted his long absences from heaven and the virtues that accompanied him in hell would tell of how only he stood in the way of the machines - after all, the virtues aren't met before gabriel's defeat in gluttony, so it seems he managed the threat entirely on his own until v1 took him down. but now the machines have made it deeper into hell. and others must have seen gabriel's return from gluttony, battered and broken and covered in blood. and there was no triumph in him then. uneasy whispers must have run through heaven at that time...and i think they were all expecting an explanation from the council to soothe their fears when instead gabriel showed them their heads. as shocking and terrifying as it is, heaven holds still because they see gabriel as the direct opposite of what he was in that messy return from gluttony - he is radiant, he is regal and serene in how he carries himself, yet he is distinctly out of step with everyone else and he makes his own rhythm. he appears not as a crazed demon but as the messenger he always was...and they would do well to listen

[soraka-in-warhammer40k]

Betrayer (HH Vol. 24)

I completly understand now how people keep this specific author in such high regard. This must have been one of my fastest reads throughout the Heresy so far. My only complaint, really, as always with Heresy books, is the bullshit style-choice for the cover:

You would think this book is about Lorgar and Angron going totally ham on Ultramarines, and yeah that does happen, but this is not what its about. Like, I get it, the mace-swing makes for a nice composition, but all these covers feel like such low-effort shovelware.

Notice the dude on the bottom right. He's not even LOOKING AT THE TWO GUYS ABOUT TO KILL HIM. The Heresy covers in general always feel like such low effort, when a smart stylized image could have captured the book as a whole much better. Anyways, this book is definetly not about who murders who, it's about Angron, a broken man, and the potentially only family-member that might give a shit about him, which is Lorgar - and mirroring those two brothers, it's also about Kharn (not yet named Betrayer) and Argel Tal, a World Eater and a Word Bearer respectively.

Angron is dieing. The nails are slowly killing him, and Lorgar attempts to save him along with his original mission, which is "shroud Ultramar into a man-made warpstorm fueled by the genocide of dozens of worlds to cut the Ultramarines off for the Siege of Terra". The way he managed to combine these goals however is... well... Lorgar might really, from the bottom of his heart, genuinely care for his brutish brother. But Lorgar is also of the "I will manipulate you for your own good" type of person, who is absolutely hardcountered by Angron's thick skull which takes ages of working on the man to get him even remotely walking into the direction you want him to. Their dynamic is quite entertaining, Lorgar's frustration is just so understandable.

Angron on his own is a broken mess of a person. There's not much to say about it, and he's essentially a force of nature that brings murder and mindless rage wherever he goes - by his own words he is already dead. Whatever is here now is essentially the world's longest suicide note that, much to his own dismay, will drag on for at least another 10.000 years. He has his moments in the book, as he is definetly not a mindless animal and still capable of some seriously baller lines, but he's definetly not the star among the cast.

Lorgar meanwhile is a much more interesting character in the book, mostly for the fact how you realize that there is a difference between "serving Chaos" and "serving the Gods". Those two things CAN go together, but they do not have to. What's interesting is that he and Erebus do definetly not see eye-to-eye. He even tried to have the guy killed by Kharn in the end by just giving the World Eater a tiny information that just made the man go into absolute murder-mode.

Which is interesting, because Kharn might be one of the least murder-y World Eaters there is. Note that I said "World Eaters" here and not "War Hounds" (the old name). That distinction is quite relevant in this story. Just like Angron on his own he does not exactly carry the narrative, he's not as absolutely insane or reckless as someone like Sevatar (and that guy manages it without the nails even). He is more of a calm observer that finds his legion-brothers generally less interesting than hanging out with Argel Tal.

Oh and Argel Tal... we met him in "The First Heretic", but I'd like to avoid spoilers here. Let's just say that his bickering dynamic with Kharn is a smaller mirror to their Primarchs' interaction. They are essentially a married couple at that point if you ask me, except none of them has realized it yet.

There's also the support cast around the Legion Audax and Lotara, but they are not the focus here. They are nice to have around however, and none of their segment feels like weird filler. Overall a great book, and I hope there's more of ADB in the Heresy as I go to the next volumes.

[zhongrin]

As you fell to the ground seeking shelter from my cruel eyes, it was I alone standing there to come and save you.

Got a little idea, since oftentimes reader is either a minor god or a mortal and there is big power imbalance. This time I wanted to do something a little different as you can say, with heretic reader I guess? Reader has a blade made out of unknown metal that allows them to absorb power of the gods. Since they killed a lot of god's, they are more powerful by anyone. (Since canonically god's in genshin explode when they die lol)

Reader was a human that didn't want some insecure god to enslave them, so they took the matters into their own hands.

The question is, will they spare one god that stood in their way or not?

>:3

Idea tim

Rex Lapis was one of the strongest gods among those, who dared to compete for a throne in the sky, yet he still was no all-knowing and invincible.

As fire roared and scorched the earth and divine blood soaked the ground, the dragon god was struck by a sword and send plummeting into the plains below.

The god who wounded him did not have any time to celebrate, as they knew that as long as the death was not confirmed, there was no victor.

God flew to the heaving body of once glorious dragon, now wounded and dirty, that was crawling away in the desperate attempt to flee. The distraction was done and people already escaped so there was no more time to buy.

As god raised his sword, a blade dark as night that seemed as nothing itself severed their head from their body.

Morax looked in horror, as his enemy's head landed with a soft plop next to his.

There was no explosion. There was no surge of power.

All that energy that this god once had was being greedily caught by this eerie blade and absorbed by a body of a mortal. Or at least something that was once a mortal.

The End of the Divine was standing right in front of him and he could do nothing more than growl.

He could only hope that Guizhong would survive on her own.

as per usual, luke says 'idea time' but blesses us with a fic. everyone says thank you luke for the delicacy 🙏🏻

that's a really interesting thought. celestia must really scorn the reader tho shdfljskldf i can't see the reader sparing morax in this scenario unless he proposed some kind of a very compelling contract, or if they had met in the past and reader is indebted to him somehow? ohhhhhhh i'm very interested to see where you would take the direction of the story if you ever wanna continue it!!!

[lost-in-thedas]

For what is worth

Short ficlet about Athrahel’s confused feelings after he met Ameridan.

Hakkon was dead. Like eight hundred years ago, the Inquisition had once again put an end to the threat of yet another Arch-dragon, which would probably have engulfed Thedas if only for the bravery of its heroes.

The Inquisitor had survived. So had the Mages, the Warriors, Dwarves, Elves and Humans, Nobles and commoners, His friends, who accompanied him.

Back at the camp, the taste of victory was drowned in songs and ale. Athrahel, meanwhile, had retired to his tent.

"I'm exhausted," he had said. "I need to rest, alone" and he insisted to this last word, his gaze particularly keen on Dorian.

Nothing surprising. Eliminating an Arch-Dragon after fighting an entire horde of Avvar fanatics had not been easy. Yet defeating Corypheus and his lyrium dragon hadn't stopped him from celebrating on his return to Skyhold. There was something else. Something not worth mentioning.

From the moment people start looking at you as a hero, the less you are of a person. You become a symbol.

Ameridan knew this burden. As they stood face to face in the Old Temple in the Frostback Basin, the two inquisitors silently shared a sense of kinship that no one could possibly understand. For a few minutes, Athrahel no longer felt alone, and yet so fast, Ameridan was already gone forever, crushed by the weight of eight centuries spent frozen in time.

Since the moment he has become a symbol, even more, since he was chosen to be the Inquisitor, Athrahel had learnt to burry his true feelings. To smile, when he felt like shouting. To curtsy, when he wished to set everything in fire, has he been a Mage. Oh! Dirthamen knows he’d probably have been sent to penance, his body swinging on the gallows in Val Royeaux’s main square, had he shared the depths of his real thoughts with the Nobles and Rulers at the Winter Palace !

Athrahel had never wished to be the Inquisitor, nor had he ever accepted the title of "Herald of Andraste". If it hadn't been for the mark that placed the fate of the world in the palm of his hand, he would have fled to his clan at the first opportunity. And yet, he had become accustomed to this burden. At times, he even enjoyed it.

True, Halamshiral was still in the hands of the Humans, but he had given power to the Elves when he had supported Briala, now Duchess of the Dales. Leliana was the new Divine. The Mage circles had been disbanded, the Mage College refounded. Southern Thedas... seemed to be taking a new turn.

Alongside this, there was also dear friends he met along the way. Most of all, the love of his life. So many unique and wonderful people he would’ve never met, may the Keeper never sent him to the conclave. Athrahel had no regrets. And the future, he believed, looked brighter than ever.

Until today.

What will be left of him, a hundred years from now? Four hundred years from now? Eight hundred years from now? Will he still be remembered as an Elf, a Dalish heretic Elf, who triumphed over the Magister of the Dark Spawns? Or will he be portrayed as an Andrastian Human warrior, whose name a family of opportunistic noblemen took over? Will Dorian, and the rest of the people who helped him, be erased too ?

Will the future members of his clan have to fight so that history remembers that he bore the name of Lavellan?

Will the fate of the Elves be even worse than it is now? Will the Mages still be free?

In the end, what if everything he'd thought he'd accomplished had been for nothing? Maybe Vivienne was right. Maybe no one can truly change the world, after all. And that it had been naive, pretentious of him, to believe otherwise.

Nothing and no one can predict the future. The past, however, can still be restored.

Ameridan was a Mage. An Elven Mage, who once sacrificed everything he held dear, including his own life in order to save the world. And Athrahel will make sure the truth will be spread throughout Thedas.

Athrahel always remained humble. He had taken the Inquisition beyond himself, acting honestly under the name of the order he was entrusted to lead. He hadn't acted alone, after all. The Inquisition owed its success to the efforts of hundreds of people, each adding, to their level, their own contribution.

Still, he refused to let his identity be erased, as had been that of Shartan, Ameridan and all the Elves who had been unjustly left out of history.

Back in the Frostback Mountains, Dalish banners will henceforth adorn the walls of Skyhold.