#witers on tumblr

[nastasya--filippovna]

WHO IS CROWLEY AFTER THE FALL?

so there is a LOT of debate over who Crowley was before The Fall. I have seen a lot of headcanons going around the place saying he was Raphael or Kokabiel or Baraqiel.

I mean this is the Exhibit A for saying that Crowley is Baraqiel. I think NOT.

Because this is a handbook written by demons for demons. The title is literally (if my memory serves me right) a guide to angelic beings that walk the earth. SO Crowley is not That..

Other than the red hair thing, no other physical characteristic matches. This Baraqiel guy sounds like an absolute gremlin. grisly slug, occasionally damp. NOT CROWLEY. I mean she's the most dashing thing around.

NO. #3 It says CROWLEY one line above the name Baraqiel. If Crowley is Baraqiel then why would his demon name appear right under that?????

And I think somewhere Neil Gaiman refuted this theory (I'm not really sure but I think so plz don't come at me with pitchforks if I got it wrong). So.......

But this is all beside the point. What I'm trying to say is that too much has been said about who Crowley was before he fell. There is very little, if not none, that has been said about who he was After.

Some say that he's an insignificant demon or some loser guy in Hell or whatever the equivalent of an angel principality deputy on Earth is.

I BEG TO DIFFER.

He is Important. Just look at the kind of assignments he's given. Original Sin, Major Historical Temptations and Evil Acts, Delivering the Antichrist and bringing about Armageddidn't.

But who is he exactly??????????

So canonically we're never told what Crowley's rank in Hell is. But there are more that enough hints for us to figure that out for ourselves.

But where does one place him when the hierarchy is so complex and varying across different historical and theological sources.

Such as here:

I have been thinking about this and I have two current theories

Crowley is Astaroth

Crowley is The Leviathan

I'll discuss only one in this post. I'll save the other for the next post.

Now book!Omens clearly tells us that Crowley or Crawley is not his real demonic name. For those who haven't read the book this happens when Hastur Lavista and Ligur come to hand over the antichrist to Crowley in the churchyard and as he's about to sign his name as "Crowley" they tell him to sign his real demonic name.

Are you with me?!!!!!

NANNY ASHTORETH!

Why did she use this particular name for her nanny disguise. What if...... what if this IS her real demon name.

A lot of my real life friends are annoyed beyond measure by my constant ranting about etymologies, origin and construction of discourse and epistemology, especially when it comes to presenting my thesis over how all Abrahamic religions and their symbology and iconography is, how do I put it, inspired from pagan religions that they expunged. I mean the concept of angles, the man shaped being with wings that is actually just a ball of fire or eyes or hale discs or sth is a pagan Persian concept.

Back to the matter at hand.

Ashtoreth, Astaroth, Astarte, Ishtar, are all the same name in different dialects and languages. All of these refer to a certain Babylonian goddess. When the People of God probably cleansed off all the infidels they decided to literally demonize their god and name a demon after her. In Milton's Paradise Lost Astaroth is one of the three princes or Grand Dukes of Hell alongside Beelz and Lucifer. If this theory might be true Crowley is a Prince/Grand Duke of Hell.

Now this gets even more interesting. Ashtoreth, Astarte, whatever you may, is a goddess of fertility and is associated with childcare. I mean at this point I just stopped to marvel at the attention to detail that Mr. Gaiman's work hold, the smallest hidden meanings in the storytelling.

Another thing. The Babylonians built these temples called ziggurats to worship Astarte and they looked something like this

and this

they were also known as sky temples.

Because Astaroth was first and foremost the goddess of stars and the Babylonians were stargazers and the temples were constructed as a stairway to heaven to take them closer to the stars and functioned as an observatory at times.

I'm just imagining Crowley turning up in ancient Babylon and with her other-worldly looks, knowledge of the stars and compassion for children they just..... started to worship her.

Before the Christians came and declared them pagans and the rest is history.

Continued in next post for the second theory......

[letters-unsending]

No. 29 (Part 2)

////

Part 1 : Hero and Villain share an apartment.

////

Villain couldn’t stop shaking.

He should have waited before going home. His hand slipped around his keys and trembled against the doorknob. As he stood, trying at the lock, his knee bent in, jolting so hard he would’ve crashed down if not for his grip on the doorframe. On his steadier leg, he pivoted. He angled his shoulder and bore his weight along the wall before trying again.

The lock clicked. His key was still readied, quivering in the air.

Hero yanked open the door. His face was set in anger, brows heavy and drawn, and his lip curled, no doubt ready to tell some attempted intrusion off.

“[Name]?” Hero uttered.

“Rough night.” Villain explained, attempting a smile. He swayed as he pushed off the wall, and Hero caught him by the wrist.

“What happened?” He steadied Villain with his other hand, cupping his elbow, and led him in. Villain tried think as Hero held him, but Hero’s fingers were warm. The living room looked warm too, mellowed over by the lamp Hero had probably tugged on before opening the door. Villain closed his eyes. Had it always been so warm?

“[Name]?” Hero tugged again. Villain blinked.

“The carpet,” he relayed to Hero, trying to excuse his pause, “my shoes.”

“I’ll clean it,” Hero assured, swiveling Villain around and onto the couch. Villain fell back. The cushions soaked him up and he held onto the armrest to fight off the sinking sensation that followed. Vertigo. His mind supplied numbly as the world spun, soured, and settled somewhere in the pit of his stomach.

“It’s not your week to do the living room.” Villain breathed out.

“I think I can make an exception,” Hero crouched down, steadying himself with a hand near Villain’s knee. He looked up at Villain and Villain stumbled over a breath. A blanket crease ran over Hero’s cheek and his hair was mussed on the same side, flattened and curled against his temple. His body hung sleep-heavy, but his gaze was sharp. He was always too sharp. Always too close to figuring it all out.

“This happens a lot,” Villain conceded, “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Hero asked. Villain knew Hero had probably drawn a connection to something —seizures, maybe anxiety—but he thought about the bruises tucked against his ribs and of the ratty tear in his knee. Something weak and wound-licking inside of him wanted to know how Hero would react if he told him.

“Just the shakes. They usually settle down after a few hours.” Villain tried to smile again, but Hero frowned. He rose back up and paused, looking so severe that, for a moment, fear squeezed at Villain shoulders and picked at his throat.

“I’m going to grab some water.”

….

As Hero turned toward the kitchen, Villain sunk into couch, pressing his forehead into the armrest. His muscles ached from the quivering and clenching; each spasm rattled through his body, a phantasmic residue of Supervillain’s power. He recalled how cool the tile had been against his back and how his humiliation and body burned as Henchman dragged him out onto the street, muttering something warbled and sorry.

He’s not himself anymore.

When Hero returned, he considered staying there. The fabric was smooth and his mind was an open sore. But he couldn’t raise more concern. He’d already broken enough rules today.

He took the glass as Hero handed it to him, and the water sloshed, dripping his wrist, cold and slow. He felt it spatter onto his pant leg and gnashed his teeth. At the edge of his vision, Hero had the courtesy to look down, away. Perhaps, he was considering the stains Villain had trodden though carpet.

Villain downed the water like a shot once he was still enough and Hero grabbed the glass before he could even consider the difficulty of setting it down.

Hero placed the glass down on the coffee table, then sat beside it.

“You already know. You know that I’m a hero.”

Villain whipped his head up.

“And if,” he lowered his voice, “if you need help from whatever’s going on, I can give it to you. You’re scared, scared of something and you walk around the apartment like everything’s gonna snap and fall apart if you’re not careful.”

“I—I do know about what you do,” Villain swallowed and licked the spilled water off his lips, “but I don’t need your help.”

“I hear you come in the middle of the night. I hear you unbuckling and buckling the med kit.” Hero gestured towards his ears. He’s enhanced. Villain’s stomach dropped. “I don’t know if it’s a debt, a relationship or a job. And you don’t have to tell me, but I need you to know that you’re not alone and that I’m worried about you.”

“[Hero]…” Villain choked, horrified by the burning in eyes.

Ever since that night in the bathroom, he’d treated Hero like a stranger—a stranger who’d he held in his arms and washed the blood from his brow. He was civil and cruel, unbending to the Hero’s cowed posture and searching gaze. He used courtesy to hook into anything Hero left bared: Good evening. Good bye. Good day.

His ‘hello’ had rung the hollowest that following morning. He’d found Hero in the bathroom, staring at the tile, scrubbed bone-white, their time together scraped away by antiseptic, baking soda and the sting of alcohol. Villain looked at his reflection again. Hero looked at it too and he nodded at it, not him, complicit in their unspoken oath of silence.

“You know,” Villain said, suddenly still, “you know, don’t you?”

[microsff]

The emperor woke. At the foot of his bed, an assassin sat. "I was sent by an honourable man," the assassin said. "He says you are ambitious." "When the poor cried, I wept with them, and made the lords open their coffers." The assassin gave the emperor a sword. "They are coming."

[itcamefrombeneaththeblog]

I Want To Be Your Monster

You sit alone like a perfect

Haunted

Doll.

Eyes wide,

A painted smile on your face.

Rings on your hand,

Like relics adorning a goddess

Of death.

I want to give you that

Spark of life

That will light your eyes as if caught in

Blazing flame

Of lust and love.

I want to tear you asunder,

Remove the chains,

That fools put on you bearing

Labels of false gods,

And impotent idols.

You will not have to beg this beast,

To ravage the fear,

Push out the doubt

Eviscerate your lonliness,

And be your dark shadow

Standing by your side,

Against the world.

I want to be your monster.

And at night,

In the quiet of sleepless morning,

I'll crawl into your bed,

The warmth of our fury for each other

Carrying us through,

As in my arms you dream.

[soulsunpoets]

[text: Perhaps my tears will melt away my face into something beautiful ]

[agnesthecartoonfreak]

Art by me

Problematic teenager König

Childhood friends konig x F reader

⚠️MDNI

Konig whom lived next to you all your life and had playdates with you since you two were babies

Konig who would not stop hugging when you two were toddlers, even if he hated hugs in general even from his parents.

Konig as a toddler hated your dad , because he was the only other boy that wasn't him who got to spend time with you. He was a baby he didn't know

Konig as a kid who insisted on playing house with you so he could pretend to be your pretend husband and steal a kiss from you.

Konig as a kid who would ask you if he was your favorite boy in the world. So he could get mad when you didn't know if you you should say it was him or her dad. You would later say it was him and apologize with a kiss on his cheek.

Konig as a kid, who promised you he would get taller than you so he could marry you.

Konig as a kid who would be over protective when you two were playing in the park. You looked so pretty, what if another boy tried to get closer to you and became your best friend instead of him?

Konig as a pre teen who would hide with his mom at your house when his dad became an ahcohoolic. He would share your room with you. You would sleep holding hands with him.

Konig as a pre teen who realized you were beautiful in a different way now. He would not let you kiss cheek or hug him tight anymore. He was too embarrased to admit he liked you in a different way now

Konig as a pre teen who got into a grunge phase and would show you all the music he was listening at the moment. One day you two shared earphones and you leaned on his shoulder. As a consequence, he would have unholy thoughts for the first time in his life about a girl. He felt so guilty about it.

Konig as a pre teen who vented to his mom about feeling guilty cause he liked her too much. His mom had a talk with him about the birds and the bees that day. He was beyond embarrassed.

Konig as a pree teen who got bullyed for his accent but you defended him. He would be embarrassed afterwards.

"I can defend myself" he said

Deep down he was happy that you cared for him

Teen konig who stopped getting bullied cause he developed a punk/grunge sense of style, that combined with how tall he got he became scary. You thought he looked hot, you would never tell him that.

Teen konig who would hang out with you to feel more calm. So he would escape his dad. You knew that. You always made him feel at home. You two would play games, watch movies and talk for hours. He wondered if one day he would get the chance to live with you. You were still touchy, loved to hug him. Hold hands... he would always control himself. He didn't want you to be with someone problematic like him.

Teen konig whom started having sex at 16 with some girls in his grade. So he would stop thinking of doing it with you. You knew, you were beyond jealous.

Teen konig who on sleepovers at your house, as he was running away from his dad, would sleep on the couch. But in the middle of the night you would sneak into the living room to lay down next to him. In the morning he would lecture you about how man are perverts and you shouldn't do this with teen boys.

"But I like sleeping next to you" your puppy eyes would aways break him

Teen konig whom had anger issues and git into fights often. You would lecture him afterwards as you took care of his injuries. It actually made him want to get in trouble more, just so he could have more attention

Teen konig who started smoking but stopped when you saw it. You started screaming at him crying. Saying how you don't want to loose him. He hugged you and promised to never touch nicotine in his life.

Teen konig who stopped talking with you for a while when he realized how much male attention you got. He thought you didn't needed him anymore.

Teen konig who got emancipated from his family so he would stop being dead weight at your house. His mother gave you the adress.

Teen konig who got a bike. He would show off around school with the slight hope you would notice him.

Teen konig who drove around the town in the day your mom called him asking him if you were with him. You got in a fight with your stepdad and ran away. You hated your stepfather, he was a cheating bastard.

Konig was desperate to find you, he couldn't bare the thought of you alone and vulnerable in the night.

"Please liebling, where are you?" He mumbled

He found you in a swing in the old park borh of you used to play. As he got close you said

" You don't have to babysit me cause my mom asked ya know? I know you hate me"

His heart sank

"I never hated you..."

"You abandonned me..." you say

"I-..... It's complicated libeling. But you will always be important to me"

You two hugged. You cried as he stroked your hair. He took you to his place. You holding him in the bike felt way too good.

He gave you some of his clothes so you could spend the night at his place. You were hesitant

He noticed

"What?"

"You bring a lot of girls over probably. I'm scared to catch something" you answer shyly

He sighs

" I would never give any other girl my clothes. You are way more important to me"

You get dressed. Konig almost melt seeing you in his clothes. Please god make this happend more times. You twocuddled and sleplt in the same bed. Something you were both familiar with

Teen konig who agreed with being roomates with you so you would escape your creepy stepdad. He was tge only man in your life now. He was so happy.

Teen konig who still would take casual fucks to the apartment with you there. You would be passive agressive the next day. You left him happily wondering if you were jealous

Teen konig ear droping in your door when you would gossip about how hot he is with a friend. Got him a confidence boost

To be continued?

Let me know if hou guys want to see more

[hashimablog]

[shady-tavern]

October's Patreon Story "Salt and Iron"

(warnings ahead for implied SA and murder, though nothing happens to the main character)

*.*.*

Tears born of anger and fear dripped down the young woman's cheeks as she ran through the woods, her white dress gathered up to allow for a fast and unhindered stride. She had chucked her white slippers upon her escape from the mayor's house and a small cut along her temple allowed blood to trail down her cheek, sticky and quickly cooling.

She heard the calls behind her, the townsfolk that both threatened and cajoled, thinking her on the run. She was running, but she didn't intend to run away. Not for long, at least.

Ahead of her she saw it a moment later, the line of bluebells that grew through the woods, neatly separating the area safe for humans and the rest of the ancient forest. No one quite knew what laid beyond the line, but people had seen glimpses. Huge creatures, shadow riders on nightmare steeds, something big with wings and something with glowing eyes in the nearby lake. And, of course, the king of the forest.

No one quite knew what he was and there were plenty of stories about him. Some said he was tall, some said it was his horns that made him look tall. Some said he was beautiful, some said he was ugly, but they all agreed on one thing, he killed the fae wherever he encountered them. 

He was called brutal and ruthless by those who had seen him and his shadow knights hunt. Who had seen him mounted on a big beast and who had heard his haunting songs on lightless nights as the glittering, beautiful faeries tried to escape.

The bluebells were his and they marked his territory, which seemed to stretch endlessly. There was no guarantee of safety beyond the flowers and while the young woman faltered for a moment, she strode forward with desperate determination.

She stepped neatly over the thick line of flowers, their sweet scent briefly filling the air. She made sure not even her skirts brushed them and as soon as her bare foot set down on the other side she felt a change in the air.

Old, that was the first word that came to her harried mind. Everything felt old and alive. She suddenly felt as though every tree and patch of moss, every mushroom and bush was keenly aware of her presence. 

It was only a matter of time before the king appeared as well, she knew that much. He always did whenever someone tried to step over the line, chasing them back into safe territory again.

The voices of the townsfolk seemed so much farther away now, even though it shouldn't be possible. She didn't look back, but gripped her skirts tighter and continued on, though her pace was far less chivied now as she caught her breath. 

"And what brings you here?" the voice came ahead of her, behind her, to her left and right. She felt as though he was everywhere and nowhere, his voice riding on the wind and speaking from the bark of a dozen trees. "Salt and iron bride?"

She gripped her white dress tighter and lifted her chin, aware of the blood that mixed with tears and dripped off her chin to land on the dark, cool forest floor beneath her feet.

"I come to ask a boon of the forest," she said, voice steadier than she felt as she blinked the last of the tears away. She needed clear eyes for this.

*.*.*

You'd like to read more? Head over to my patreon! Salt and Iron will go live on the first of October! There are two other stories available in the meantime however, you can check them out here and here or head straight over to patreon!

Thank you ever so much for your support, it means the world to me and allows me to create more for you!

[saneperhaps]

“In the end, though, I lost her. Gradually, in the beginning, then completely. Like something that is eroded bit by bit. The process began slowly until finally a tidal wave swept it all away, the roots and everything."

~Haruki Murakami , Drive my car.

[notalostcausejustyet]

More poetry. Cause I’m working through shit and it’s good for me.

Kintsugi

Graceful degradation

The beautiful usefulness of all the broken parts of me

Shards as sharp as knives

Shattered and glittering

Broken like these hands

This heart, this body, this soul

The malunion of what was created and what I have become

Catastrophic functionality

The incorporeal and mangled teeth of magnanimity

Viscous like blood

Warm and sharp as iron

A tacky, tattered tapestry

It spills from the cavity that once held the heart of me

[lavenderviolin]

You touched me and called me yours,

And that was all it took

Because love will never be fair.

I said I thought I was in love,

But you only laughed -

Running a hand through my hair.

We were never made to last.

I think that you broke me in half

But I loved every minute -

And I would let you break me again.

Because you lit a fire inside me

When you pushed me down,

Pressed your fingers to my skin.

And in that moment I understood.

I felt the grass against my back,

The sunlight on my face,

And your mouth against my breast.

One hand on my neck and one

Inching up my thigh while I gasp for air

As you breathe my name into my chest.

When it was over you held me close.

I knew then that you would leave.

We lay together for hours -

Outside under the wild cherry tree,

Until it felt natural, letting you go -

Watching you fade away like summer.

But the fire you lit still burns inside me.

I think that it might burn until I die.

~LV

[milla984]

Some time ago I saw a post from an author saying she doesn't know what to do when people leave comments in the tags and I swear - that's exactly ME. As someone struggling with social situations, I have a genuine question for all the people who reblog fanfic posts (🫶 you're amazing) and add their comments in the tags:

[inmybook]

I want a home where I laugh with tears in my eyes, cry and sob without hiding myself, walk around leaving footprints. A home where I'm not scared if I drop a glass accidentally, where I can jump and sing on my bed, where I don't have to worry about my posture, where i let my kids write on the wall, have food fights, make memories. A home where I don't have to walk on egg shells.

No! I want my home to be messy. Like me. I want my home to look like I live there.

-inmybook

[arrows2art]

I'm Red

Because of you

Got me so blush

I'm in no rush

You make me blush

And I'm Red

I'm Blue

Not here with you

Out of tune and out of time

Out of my mind

I'm Yellow

You make me mellow

I watching you like a smiling star

Don't go very far

Cause without you

I'm not Yellow

Pan: Emotion by Flag

[timetragic]

Sherlock S3 fanfic finale idea.

I liked Mary in the show, but I was disappointed that nothing really came out of her being an assassin. This could've started an interesting new storyline for S4.

Just imagine that the key mentioned in S2 was actually real, and Moriarty's Second in command, Sebastian Moran, knew that. However, he didn't know where it was. While he tried to keep Moriarty's network alive across the world, he still needed eyes in London, but not many to draw awareness from the government. So Moran got dirt on retired assassin, Rosasmund Mary.

He told Mary that he'll let her "live her life" as long as he reported anything she saw in London that could be useful to Sebastian Moran. At some point, she ended up meeting John Watson. She fell in love with him and did feel bad about what happened to Sherlock. She did feel like him and John were closer than they'd appear when Sherlock was alive, and while John may have felt closer to Sherlock than her, that isn't to say that her and John didn't have chemistry

Anyways, Sherlock came back, and Mary had to manage to do her best concealment to Moran and Sherlock during this time. She hoped she was doing a good job, but it all came crushing down on "x" day. (X day happens after S3E2)

Pretty much, Moran is starting to find the missing clues as to where the key of London is at. He just needs one more thing at "x" place. Mycroft picks onto some of what Sebastian Moran is doing and sends Sherlock to help, which he agrees once he figures out that Moran was Moriarty's second in command. Sherlock goes with John to figure things out where we get some cute moments from both of them. Meanwhile, Sebastian Moran calls Mary. He confronts her about some things and tells her to come at "x" place.

Sherlock and John arrive at the place. Something similar to the gunshot scene that happens in the finale is what happens in this one as well.

Sherlock tells John to keep watch while he explores the room. Sherlock then goes through the next entrance, only to find someone pointing a gun to his head. The person pointing the gun starts to ask monotone questions. He quickly realizes this is Mary. (The reason why Mary is doing this is because Moran is telling her to. If she doesn't, John will die.) Mary ends up shooting him in the chest, close to his heart like in the original episode.

Almost the same events as the original episode follow until the Interrogation scene with Mary. This time, Mary's reasons to do things are different. John doesn't forgive her and says that he needs time to sort things out.

I'm not sure how the rest of part 1 in this fanfic will roll out exactly, but I do know that Mary should have an honorable death in the end and that in the day after her death the "miss me" sign appears along with Moriarty's face, a taunt to Sherlock.

If anyone wants to adopt this idea, please do. Just let me know about it because I will want to read it.

[ruminate88]

”I didn’t block your number becuase I stopped loving you. I just didn’t wanna play your mind games anymore.”