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fairyhaos · 4 months

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seventeen and which mythical beings they are

requested by @mesanthropi ^^ physically held myself back from going on rants for shua's and hao's and jeonghan's pls (iykyk)

masterlist

seungcheol

vampire. formidable, mysterious vampire seungcheol from a powerful family name who lives in a huge, ominous castle and somehow manages to make sucking blood look sexy… shakes he's so fine oh my god. honestly vampire!cheol with glowing red eyes and an intimidating presence and the most smug fucking smirk in the world is such a vibe, and he also has the whole “i was born centuries and centuries ago” old hag thing down to an art

jeonghan

siren. specifically a mermaid-type siren that lives in the sea and has a pretty iridescent tail. water-dwelling being jeonghan just makes so much sense to me bc he has their fluidity and their peaceful and their mischief and also??? jeonghan with a shimmery mermaid tail and captivating siren voice???? i'd willingly drown myself for him actually, siren song be damned. he has the silvery voice of a siren and the ethereal looks to be one fr

joshua

wood nymph. bambi-eyed wood nymph joshua who communicates with the birds and tends to his forest and has flowers weaved in his hair and stars embedded around his eyes… the nymph!joshua obsession is Real guys and i am definitely a victim of it. curly haired joshua is just sooo wood nymph coded and i can see him as some soft-spoken, pretty being who lives in a birch tree and guides stray travellers when they get lost in his woods

junhui

witch junhui with his black cat familiar and his dented cauldron and his cottage in the middle of the forest!! witch junhui with his mini apothecary and his goofy-sounding spells and his eyebrow permanently half-singed bc his enchantments keep backfiring!! witch junhui with his soft spoken words and bright laugh and total kindness to everyone who happens upon his home!! witch junhui is so so dear to me and he really is just. a witchy little dude

hoshi

shapeshifter. does this idea feed into his furry agenda a bit too much? yeah, it kinda does, but oh my god just imagine tiger shapeshifter hoshi who's part human but can turn into a large, big-fanged and bold-striped tiger at a moment's notice. he really just genuinely gives shapeshifter vibes, and every year he schedules one week where he'll traipse off into the nearest mountains and blow off some steam in his tiger form for seven days

wonwoo

dragon. okay so this is kinda not a humanoid mythical being, but wonwoo is soooo big friendly dragon coded. i can imagine him as a large, red scaly dragon, snoozing atop his massive hoard of gold in a secluded cave in the forest, little wisps of smoke coming out of his nostrils as he snores contentedly. that doesn't mean he can't be scary if he wants to tho, and can burn down any puny humans who try to steal his hoard in the blink of an eye

woozi

demigod. part-god woozi is just such a vibe okay, and he rlly does give off a hercules-type feel, where he can do inhuman things and seems almost untouchable in his awesomeness, even though he's right there in front of you. and he has a hatred of the gods and a mild tolerance for humans but at the end of the day, he appreciates and loves both for all that they do. (also in a percy jackson demigod sense, he is totally an apollo's kid and no i don't make the rules)

minghao

fae. y'all know how far my fairy minghao agenda runs by now and like ??? can you blame me ???? the idea of sassy smol hao with fairy wings and a squeaky voice is cute and all, but also i just think he fits the idea of the entire tall, mysterious fae folk really well too. with his pointy fae ears and his shrewd gaze and his ability to say half-truths and riddles and give sage advice about how to live your life all at once, he really is very much a fae-like person.

mingyu

some sort of demon. he's so loud and bright and kind that, despite his huge presence and glowing eyes and the horns protruding out of his mess of fluffy hair, you don't even register that he's some dangerous, hellish creature before something happens and he just snaps, the air around him visibly darkening as he tears after the thing that caused him to lose control. he's so sweet and kind but so undeniably dangerous all at once.

dokyeom

elf. i'm thinking lord of the rings elves, except i haven't actually watched lord of the rings but i have this idea of them being tall and rich and elegant beings, and it makes me think of dokyeom. he's just so pretty, and the elves rely on the natural elements to survive, right? dokyeom is just so sunbeams peeking through forest leaves, so little rabbits bounding through the undergrowth, so hand-whittled arrows and folk songs around a campfire and tall, tall, beautiful elves.

seungkwan

will o’ the wisp or a sprite. he's endearing and mysterious, and once you gain his favour he's staying glued to ur shoulder for the entirety of your dangerous quest through the magical woods. he's very chatty and also very elusive, constantly flitting around in the air and disappearing in a wink of light before appearing on your nose once again. you can't tell if he's a help or a hindrance, but he's cute and bright and makes the journey a lot better

vernon

a smurf. smurfs count as mythical beings okay, and while ive never actually watched any smurf movie thing ever, i think vernon would make an absolutely brilliant smurf. they give off silly goofy weird adorable vibes, and that's basically vernon in a nutshell. also smol vernon with blue skin and lives in a mushroom looking house??? that's kinda cute and actually something that vernon might wanna do irl not gonna lie

chan

nine-tailed fox. he's so mysterious and sexy and kind of dangerous but like. his unbelievable handsomeness kinda outweighs the danger. honestly i don't really have an explanation for this other than that the Vibes r there for some reason and he'd look so cool with those glittery wisps of magic threading through the air around him as his eyes glow a mysterious colour before he launches into a kdrama-esque fight sequence against the latest monster

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reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @hanniehaee @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @zilinxue

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vcreatures · 8 months

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The term fairy covers a large swath of beings and in some cases clear delineation between species and their classifications hold only ephemeral standing. Imps are a prime example of this. While classified under fairies, the Imp has also been labeled as a lesser demon.

The Imp comes in a vast array of shapes and sizes. Two of the species catalogued here is the Corpse Imp and the Owl Bellied Imp. Primarily an earth or fire elemental you will commonly find them dwelling deep within cave systems.

Much like the pixie, Imps are known for their mischievous nature verging on malicious in some cases. With that, it is not uncommon to find them as the familiar for darker forces. Should a being win favor of an imp, they will server their master dutifully, even at it’s own expense in some cases.

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still-a-morosexual-help · 5 days

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It isn’t an uncommon sight to find random demons walking through the halls of the House of Lamentation, usually found on the path between the entrance and Asmo’s room, their state of undress and functioning number of braincells entirely dependent on which journey they were taking. Lucifer’s constant and painstaking efforts to reduce the number of visitors was, expectedly, not going in his favour, though he did find some iota of pride in his singular victory of reducing the orgies to a once-a-month sort of affair.

What is uncommon, however, is the thick bandages wrapped around the entire upper half of the leg of the demon currently hobbling his way past the open kitchen door and towards the entrance.

The human watches him curiously, both hands wedged inside the open mouth of a shadow hog’s decapitated head. They tear the jaw from the skull with one great Crack! and ask, “Do you want me to heal that up for you?”

Visiting Kinks (fic Link)

Unnamed, Gender-Neutral MC + Asmo, Belphie & Levi

Summary:

It's a normal day in the Devildom.

(half of) The Gang have the sex talk. No, not that sex talk. The one about kinks.

Additionally, in which the demons are DEMONS and the human is concernedly unperturbed.

Tags: • Platonic Relationships • Blood and Gore • Crack • Crack Treated Seriously • Humor

Rating: E

Comments & kudos are always treasured because I am a cave dwelling little creature that hoards that shit and snorts it like crack

Tag List (if you want to be added like this -> post. If you want to be removed lemme know);

@ashplsstfu

@kadythethief

@aspiring--cryptid

@wanderwelle

@sansarawheelvictim

@nagitokomaeda-the69th

@knight-clover

@butterflywaffle

@believemeimeverywhere

@weareparanoidcynicalpeople

@jolynetodd

@lunaslemons

@silverinnia

@val-monny

@alexeizzo

@obervation-subject-753

@niacks

@naughtybodypillow

@baby-jeonginnie

@ask-angel0

@yourimaginaryfriiendd

@whatamidoing89

@mammonismyfirstman

@kuro-personal

@pandapantslovesyou

@mammoneythegreat

@kawaiiartsstuffowo

@novanight87

@oooowl

@pajamasatepb

@saccharineconcinnity

@techsharkie

@itzblazekun

@medicinalkiwis

@heavenly-greed

@sidgethegamer

@timetomakeanewwish

@mozzarellatelevision

@stale-cheetos-and-fragile-egos

@obeymeharemowner

@hauntedcatnerd

@darkflowerav

@mxsunnybop @betta-phish @anxiously-sidequesting

@jabesa0

@luciel-levine

@dweeb-central @noblognamepleasee @fully-automatic-ass

@sweetbrier2908 @reikabae17 @emiosb

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lexsssu · 6 months

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Bloom (Youko Kurama)

TAGS: Youko/Dragoness!reader, pet names, cunnilingus, breeding, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

“Such a pretty little flower you have here, my dear...It’s even oozing such lascivious nectar. My, my...how lewd...”

“Nooo! Don’t look at it!!!”

“How can I not look when it’s twitching so desperately? I think the best way to make this flower bloom its most beautiful is to fertilize it. Don’t you think so?”

“Y-Youko…!”

The fox yokai only smirks in response as one of his demonic flora holds you in place with its vines, your prone naked body lifted several feet off the ground with your arms and legs spread wide. This position allowed nothing to be hidden from his view, just how he liked it.

A long finger rubs against the weeping slit, nodding in satisfaction at the abundant honey that dripped and easily coated his digit before licking it off, unwilling to allow it to go to waste when you worked so hard to produce it just for him. He enjoys the taste as much as the sight of you trembling in embarrassment as his tongue slowly laps up the fluids from his fingers.

“We can’t allow even a drop of this precious nectar to go to waste when it’s a delicacy,” he explains, placing his large hands onto your inner thighs as his thumbs land on the fleshy lips of your cunt in order to spread them wide and reveal the tender pink hole inside. “That is why I have brought it upon myself to make use of this precious commodity.”

Your protests die in your throat when the silver-haired fox proceeds to feast on your pussy like a man starved, lapping up the dripping slick before pressing his face into your twitching lips and sticking his tongue inside. Thighs trembling, you are powerless to do anything as Youko repeatedly shoved his tongue as far as it could go, scraping at the spongy walls as he swallowed down your nectar with gusto. The knot inside your lower stomach tightens impossibly with each second that passes at the mercy of the bandit until it snaps, crying out his name as he practically sucks your soul out of your body.

“Thank you for the meal, little Snapdragon. Such fine nectar you secrete…”

As much as he wanted to eat you forever, there were more pressing matters to attend to. Namely, his loins which painfully poked at his trousers in an effort to be released from their prison, eager to sink into the velvety soft heat of your warm, delicious cunt. Due to the both of you being attuned to your animalistic natures, him being a fox and you being a dragon, it was no wonder Youko was all the more aware of the heady mix of your arousal and his own in the air. Having his nose so close to your precious flower allowed him to smell the full force of your scent, enticing his body to release the long restrained urge to mate and knot a fertile female and have her bear his kits.

“...But I believe it is time for us to begin the main course”

Youko resisted the urge to purr as his vines began moving your body and setting it into the appropriate position with your chest pressed down against the piles of downy fur he’d skinned from his many successful hunts while you were propped up on your knees with legs spread wide. There was no way he was allowing the future mother of his kits to be taken roughly against the abrasive stone ground of your cave dwelling. From your scent alone he could easily tell that you were still pure, untouched by any other male which made him all the more adamant about making your first time one to remember fondly.

The rumble of his chest vibrated against your smaller back as he draped his larger body over your own, the action seemingly comforting you and yet urging you to submit at the same time. You could feel the hot and heavy cock that rubbed against your lower lips, going back and forth as it coated itself in your slick while his large hands gripped your plush waist.

“Sing for me, my pretty little flower”

A lusty moan escapes your lips when the fat head of his cock pierces into your untouched pussy, each gratifying inch slipping inside the unexplored territory until only the heavy sacs that hung below his proud length were left. There is a twinge of pain as your maidenhead was taken, but nothing your body can’t handle. Rather, your body responds enthusiastically to the intrusion, your cunt clamping down on the thick organ that spreads it wide open.

Kurama hissed at the moist sheath that seemed to happily welcome his member, nose flaring as the scent of your virgin’s blood and arousal mixed into a potent and heady mix that had him hammering into your pussy once he was sure you had adjusted to him.

The fox and the dragon continue to mate within the confines of their sealed den for the next several days, unwilling to part from each other until the male was absolutely sure that he had successfully flooded your womb with his seed and ensured the future of his lineage. Once he’d confirmed your condition, Kurama happily spent the next several days in yet another hedonistic frenzy of mating as a way to celebrate the happy event in your lives.

You had to threaten Youko to give you a break or else you’d ban him from touching you for a century.

Safe to say, he did heed your warning and finally allowed you to walk out of your den, but he made sure to hover protectively behind you all the time. Unwilling to allow any other male to get ideas about his mate.

You simply thought it was adorable.

#lexsssu writes #yu yu hakusho #yyh #yu yu hakusho kurama #youko kurama #youko kurama x reader #yu yu hakusho x reader #yyh youko x reader #crossposted on ao3

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starks-hero · 2 years

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Iris

Pairing: Crowley x human!Reader

Summary: “When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.” Or, Crowley finally decides to tell you, his human lover, that he is a demon. He's justifiably terrified.

Word Count: 2.0k

Warnings: hurt/comfort

a/n: shout out to the wonderful anon that chucked me headfirst back into my good omens' obsession. anyway, I'm not saying you should listen to Iris whilst reading this but–

Crowley loved your eyes.

Well, he loved the entirety of you. But there was just something about their alluring shade, the way they watched him so intently and with softness he couldn't recall last being regarded with. Their divinity reflected that of the cosmos themselves. Crowley should know, he built them.

He never really understood the whole ‘eyes are the window to the soul’ line before you. From Crowley's, albeit limited understanding, souls didn't have windows, and even if they did, it wouldn't be a very good indicator of one's character. Even the bleakest of days look more promising from behind the safety of a window.

You were the one to change that perception, to take it in gentle hands and mould it into something softer, more sentimental. You proved to him that maybe there was some truth to the verses he'd heard poets recite again and again over the millennia. When with you, Crowley could feel the unconditional kindness beaming from you like rays from the sun, a readiness and willingness to be good that made him fall for humanity all over again.

And yet despite everything your eyes inspired in him, you were yet to see his own. And for good reason. Crowley still didn't understand what miracle, (or lack thereof) had transpired for you to be with him, but he did know that he wasn't about to put it at risk. You were his anti-thesis; made up of all things good and loveable. The thought of how quickly you'd leave the moment you saw his eyes and all they stood for was one that plagued him daily. But on the other side of the coin, Crowley couldn't disregard the fact that you deserved to know. You deserved the truth. You deserved so much more...

It was time for the bell to toll.

And so, Crowley followed his usual routine of picking you up after your shift, only this time the music was cranked up double what it usually would be (already deafening) in an attempt to drown out his frantic overthinking. The windows shuddered with each guitar solo and Crowley was sunk so far down in his seat his foot was pressed uncomfortably against the gas pedal. If it weren't for the fact that the Bentley was somewhat sentient, he probably would have swerved off the road a mile or two back.

The moment he set foot in your home an uncomfortable burning sensation shot up his spine. He cursed whoever had blessed your house before realising that said uncomfortable feeling was in fact a combination of both his nerves as well as the conscious he forgot he had.

The drive back to the flat was tortuous, for Crowley at least. Your hand was on his thigh as he drove, drawing circles into the fabric. The ever-alluring sound of Freddie Mercury's voice droned on in the background as Crowley rehearsed what he wanted to say, swapping out words and rephrasing sentences before restarting altogether. The closer he got to home the more hopeless he began to feel and by the time he was holding the flat door open for you Crowley fought the urge to find the nearest cave, catacomb or other undisturbed dwelling to take a century-long nap in. He just wanted to wait this whole thing out.

The reminder that you wouldn't be here in a century served as an adequate kick in the arse as he closed the door behind him.

His shoulders were slumped and his steps slow as he moved through the apartment's halls in all their bleakness. The only room in the entirety of the flat that had any real colour was his conservatory, filled to the brim with succulents and tropical plants. The moment he entered said room he was met with the sight of green leaves and an earthy scent heavy in the air. It was an impressive sight, really; plants that stretched feet off the ground, leaves proudly pointed skyward, (although given Crowley’s presence it is far more likely this display was out of fear.) Ivy vines had begun to climb up the walls, something Crowley had intended to deal with before deciding he was rather fond of how they contrasted the greyness of the polished stone they clung too.

Among it all, in the very centre of the botanical display, the plant you'd gifted him proudly sat. A purple Iris, its petals bright and its leaves healthy and succulent. Its scent was sweeter than that of the other plants and the flower, despite its size, did not seem intimidated by the impressive foliage that surrounded it.

Crowley’s fingers delicately ghosted over the leaves. the sentimental side of him liked to believe that the flower’s flourishing beauty was because it had been gifted to him by you. Something about everything growing better with love. The more reasonable part of him acknowledged that it was due to the fact the plant had been placed nearest to the window as well as being the first watered each morning and night. The battle between his sentiment and rationality was nullified by the fact that you were also the reason the plant received such treatment, favouritism having quickly steered his hand.

You just had that habit about you; inspiring beauty whether you meant to or not.

As Crowley studied the flower that in so many ways reminded him of you, he imagined the leaves becoming dry and shrivelled, of the royal purple petals withering beneath his touch. He pulled his hand away.

He found you reclined along the couch, one arm covering your face whilst the other hung weightlessly off the side of the furniture. Your dramatic pose was reminiscent of some tragic renaissance painting and the sight was one that inspired such fondness Crowley didn't even mention how you had your feet up on the fine velvet.

“Tired, love?” He asked instead.

“You have no idea. Today was an utter nightmare.”

Even whilst talking about the most mundane of things your voice was siren-like, resonant with divinity. Crowley could listen to you for hours, for the rest of his life. Until his immortal heart stopped and the earth beneath him turned to ash.

“I feel better now that I'm here with you.”

The words sent a dagger into his side, the following guilt twisting it in place. He moved to join you on the sofa and with a gentle tap to your ankle, he watched you move your feet before taking a seat beside you.

Your eyes were on him, he could feel it. The tension in his body and the seriousness of his expression was not something you were used to. He spoke before you could voice your concern.

“There's something I want–” He swallowed. “Something I need to tell you.”

“Okay.” Your breathy laugh that encompassed the word was an admirable attempt to hide your nerves but Crowley knew you better. “What is it?”

Silence followed.

Crowley opened and closed his mouth a few times, no words passing from his lips despite how hard he tried to voice them. There was a building pressure in his temples and he felt like his forked tongue was tied in a knot.

“Crowley.” Your hand travelled across the plane of his thigh and grabbed his own. It was a comforting touch yet he fought the urge to pull away. “What is it? You're scaring me.”

Another twist of the dagger.

“I– I just, it's that...” Crowley made a noise that fell somewhere between a groan and a whine. “I... I'm–” foreswearing words altogether, he reached for his glasses. With shaking hands, he pulled them away. “I'm not... good.”

He couldn't bring himself to look at you, to see the horror and fear in your eyes. “I'm quite the opposite actually.”

He felt your hand leave his own, the skin you'd once touched feeling bare. His chest hurt, his eyes stung and when he finally turned to you your fear and disbelief sent another sharpened blade through his chest.

“What–” The word fell quietly, the beginning of a sentence you'd never finish. Crowley took the liberty of answering regardless.

“Demon, unholy horror, the reason children are afraid of the dark.”

When you said nothing, he continued.

“I wanted to tell you. I should have told you. I never meant for this to go so far. I tried to stop it so many times but then you'd say or do something and I– just never wanted it to end. And I know that's selfish but–” Crowley motioned to his eyes. “That's what I am. Selfish, unforgivable– a bad omen.”

As his words set in you remained unmoving. Your eyes hadn't left his, not since he'd pulled off his glasses and laid everything bare.

“Love...” There was another stretch of silence and Crowley felt like he was drowning; like he was back at Mesopotamia with wind and rain at his back and a wave so large it blended with the sky fast approaching on the horizon. “Please, say something.”

You said nothing.

Rather, you raised your hand against his cheek, thumb timidly tracing beneath his eye, as if to ensure it was real.

Crowley flinched.

“This is what you've been hiding from me? All this time.” You asked. “And here I thought you just really didn't like the sun.”

Crowley blinked a few times, lips falling in a frown. He backed away from your touch.

“Crowley...”

“You've just found out that I'm evil incarnate and you're making jokes.”

“What would you prefer I do?”

“I'm a demon.” Crowley ensured to emphasise the word. “I'd prefer you did what anyone else would do.”

‘Leave.’ This part was silent. ‘For your own sake.’

You didn't waver. Your hand fell back against his shoulder, testing the waters and when he didn't pull away you continued.

“From my understanding, demons are supposed to be cruel, unlovable. So if you're a demon,” your hand ventured to his neck, Crowley's eyes falling shut despite himself as you traced his jaw. “Then no offence love but you're not a very good one.”

Crowley couldn't quite place the feeling that took hold of him at your words, but it left him feeling both hollowed and relieved. His eyes stung again, but this time he was smiling.

“You're being far too conversational about this.” His fingers encircled your wrist, he could feel the steady beat of your pulse beneath his thumb. “This really doesn't bother you..?”

You shook your head. “And even if it did, I'm in too deep now to get hung up on something like that.”

Crowley tried to think rationally but instead, he thought of the beauty of the cosmos, of dark purple petals and perfumed air. Of your eyes and their warmth and this time the idea of a withering flower didn't even cross his mind.

“You're sure about this, falling in love with a demon. Dangerous business, that.”

“I'll take my chances,” you mused. “Besides, being without you is the only real hell I can imagine.”

Crowley chortled, boyish and pure, a noise that certainly should not have come from a demon. "Aziraphale been loaning you his books, has he?"

“No, but I am trying to cheer you up." You gently nudged his side. “Is it working?”

Crowley's reaction told you it was. His eyes in all their vibrant brilliance shone so bright you felt you were staring at the sun. When he reached for his glasses, your hand worked on its own accord to stop him.

“Leave them off, please? I want to see you." Your words were cleansing and for the first time in an eternity, he felt worthy. Worthy of adoration, of love, of you.

Crowley kissed you, and you did not wilt.

tag list: @bakerstreethound @miraclesoflove @doozywoozy @mywellspringoflife

#sir let me kiss your head and spend the evening complementing your eyes in every language I know #man oh man did I have a field day with the title (the song his eyes AND the flower) 3 for 1 #crowley x reader #good omens #good omens crowley #good omens crowley x reader #crowley x you #crowley imagine #crowley x y/n #crowley good omens

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digitalagepulao · 8 months

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Eldest and Youngest

Sun Wumiao, or Witch Sprout (fairy crane demon)

An eternally youthful and ethereally beautiful lady, who wears draping silks and brocades. She has a lovely lilting voice, calm gestures and easily soothes anyone's troubles with kind words. Often bears a feathered fan in her hand and a pinewood sword at her waist. There once was a tall, old pine tree by the river side at Water-Curtain Cave. One day, the pine shed its branches, leaves, bark, and roots, and from it sprang a young and bright crane. She was promptly presented to the Monkey King, who didn't bat an eye and embraced her into the family. Though the monkeys all adored her, their loud and rambunctious nature didn't agree with her demure and graceful disposition, and she requested to leave for the mountain's foot and establish a temple there to honor her adoptive father. Since then, she's been the head priestess and tender of the Huaguoshan temple to the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, where she accepts demons, animals and humans alike to petition the King for intervention or good fortune.

Sun Danxia, or Cinnabar Cloud (orphaned human child)

One day as Wumiao went to tend Wukong's temple, she found a babe left behind in a basket by the altar. Reaching out to her father, now a Buddha and often dwelling in his jingtu, the boy was embraced by the monkey into his family. Wumiao worried this might become a habit of mortals, leaving behind children at their doorstep, so Wukong decided that if that was the case, then they should create an orphanage wherever there was a temple dedicated to him. Despite growing up surrounded by demons, immortals, and fairies, the boy had no contempt for his peers, instead striving to learn as much as he could to keep up with his siblings.

i am still cooking several things but today i needed a win against the brain fog and finishing this one was it uwu

#Sun clan au #jttw au #journey to the west #xiyouji #jttw #jttw fanart #sun wukong #monkey king #bell dragon art

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blackeyedaliens · 3 months

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The Demon of Forgotten Grotto.

In the depths of the Forgotten Grotto resides a cave-dwelling demon fueled by the power of glowing crystals. With a multitude of eyes piercing the darkness, long antennae twitching in anticipation, and grotesque tentacles serving as her tongue, she reigns supreme over the subterranean realm.

A sim created using @gloomiegalaxie-sims's Create-A-Cryptid Challenge.

#the sims 4 #ts4 #CAS Challenge #blood #sims 4

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nemo-in-wonderland · 1 month

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☪️ ZIL-E-QAMAR | FIEND WARLOCK | SELDARINE DROW ☪️

Name: Zil-e-Qamar

Nickname: Zil, Ya Qamar (only Halim called her so)

Title: The Scorching Mirage

Alias: Aranea Baelfaer

Age: ≅175 Years Old (She never disclosed her real age to anyone)

Birthplace: Menzoberranzan, Underdark Hometown: Huzuz, The City of Delight

Current Residence: She is wandering Faerun without a fixed place. After meeting Gale, they would travel together back to Zakhara and reside for a while in Huzuz.

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral but sometimes oversteps in Neutral Evil

Race: Seldarine Drow

Class: Warlock - The Fiend

Profession/job: Before the great tragedy that apprehended her life and forced her to flee to Faerun, she worked as a Scribe for the Grand Vizier Alyana al-Azzazi, a work she was immensely proud of. Visual particular traits: Standing at 183 cm barefoot, Zil is abnormally tall for a drow, and this is an anomaly for which she has no answer to give. Scent: Oud, Rose, Sandalwood, Saffron, Amber.

Colours/symbols associated with: The Colours of the Desert at Night; The White Heron that flew at dusk; The Sphinx whose riddles couldn’t be solved and whose smile couldn’t be understood.

Languages: Midani (mothertongue), Jaanti, Kadari, Infernal Language, Common Language, she is learning Undercommon.

Accent?: Before moving to Huzuz to embark on her studies at the Al-Bidr Sallah University, she spent her childhood and early teen years in Ajayib, the City of Wonders. Therefore, she spoke Midani with the regional accent of the Pearl Cities.

Tropes they embody: “Determinator”,” Implacable Woman”, “Deadpan Snarker”, “The Juggernaut”, “Broken Bird”, “Heartbroken Badass”, “Be Careful What You Wish For”, “Lady of Black Magic”, “Addicted to Magic”, “Dark Action Girl”, “Revenge Before Reason”, “The Dreaded”, ”Noble Demon”, ”Troubled Past”, “The Unfettered”, “Excessive Mourning”, “Long-Range Fighter”, “Love Makes you Evil,” “Roaring Rampage of Revenge”, “Squishy Wizard”, “Tragic Heroine”, “Tranquil Fury”, “Trauma Button”, “Violently Protective Girlfriend”, “Woobie, Destroyer of Worlds", "Cry for the Devil". Personality: Determinate, Curious, Mischievous, Resilient, Resourceful, Intuitive, Loyal toward those she loves, Secretive, Mysterious, Empathetic, Charming, Charismatic, Seductive, Ambitious, Prideful, Focused to the point of Obsession, Stubborn, Manipulative, Vengeful, Can become ruthless is pushed, Emotionally Withdrawn, Short-Tempered. Detailed Backstory: Zil-e-Qamar was the adopted daughter of Valakos and Breessa, a couple of Faerûnian tiefling merchants who permanently resided in Ajayib, the City of Wonders in the Land of Fate Zakhara. Zil had a childhood of relative comfort and ease, not wanting for anything. Ever a curious child, sometimes too nosy for her own good, she spent her childhood between school, helping her parents with trading and inventorying the goods they received from Faerûn, and exploring the caves upon which the city had been built. She was a brilliant young woman, with an incandescent personality and a silver tongue and cheeky personality that could easily charm the people around her. She wouldn't take “no” for an answer, especially when embarking on a quest to discover and learn about all manner of topics, though her interest always dwelled on Magic and all its different aspects and how they intertwined and connect.

Ajayib, despite being the cradle that sweetly protected her throughout her most tender years, had very little to offer to her ever-growing thirst for knowledge. Soon enough, she made preparations to move to the Capital of the Land of Fate, Golden Huzuz. After being admitted to the Home of the Seekers of Knowledge, the Great University of Al-Bidir Sallah in the City of Delight, she enrolled in the College of Magic to expand upon her knowledge and understanding of how magic worked. She was a hardworking student, with her nose always buried in any book she could put her hands on. It was around this time that she became a devotee of Zann the Learned, the God that oversaw Learning and Intelligence.

Eventually, under the advice of Imam Renn min Zann, her mentor at the University, she sought to learn more about who she was and where she stood in the world. She enrolled for a period in the College of Fine Arts, taking classes about non-Zakharan history and costumes in the hope of discovering more about her origins. After graduating and deciding to continue her studies as a scholar, she took up the position of Scribe for the Imam, and it was during that time that she met Halim Ibn Tariq, a well-renowned Sha'ir and Vizier of Huzuz, advisor to Grand Vizier Alyana al-Azzazi, in a diplomatic visit to the University to report of its state to the Grand Vizier.

Having been assigned to be the Vizier’s guide, Zil found herself intrigued by this physically imposing yet apparently kind and soft-spoken man, who had all the authority that was expected of a man of his station and background, yet possessed none of the arrogance, a man of exceptional moral strength and vivacious intelligence, known for his even temper and warm laughter.

On his side, Halim also found himself fascinated by the young drow, the first he ever had the chance to speak with in his life, with her pale eyes always twinkling with curiosity, her insatiable need for knowledge, and her mischievous way of flirting with him. He found her company pleasant and when away for his duties, he found himself unable to stop thinking about her and her beguiling, infectious smile. Despite their mutual interest, they both believed that, due to the Vizier’s busy life and Zil’s own duties, the few meetings they had at the University were destined to remain as such. Yet, Halim extended an invitation to her to seek him out if she ever needed anything, either a favour or even just his company. Little did Halim know about Zil’s own resilience and way of making things happen the way she wanted. Zil applied to become a Scribe in the service of Grand Vizier Al-Azzazi, to be closer to the man who had completely captivated her. She obtained the position, thanks to her own merits and partially thanks to the good recommendation of the Imam. In time, Zil and Halim became friends and started to spend more and more time together, their mutual attraction growing and blossoming like the beautiful lilies that bloomed in the pans surrounding Hazuz when the rains blessed the city. It grew until being far away from each other felt more torturous than standing underneath the ruthless Zakharan Sun at noon without shade.

With the blessing of the Grand Caliph himself, they married and spent more than 10 years of blissful happiness. But the Court of Enlightenment was not devoid of intrigue, and Halim, with his progressive philosophies and advocacy to abolish the common practice of trading slaves, had drawn upon itself the malcontent of the slave owners in the Caravan District. He had fallen victim to a ploy that resulted in an incrimination for corruption and bribery.

Zil knew that her husband was innocent, having worked closely with him for all those years, and tried with all the means she had available to find who was behind all that scheming and bring them to justice to clear her husband’s name. But before she could do anything of substance, she was apprehended and charged with the accusation of being complicit and accessory to all of Halim’s crimes. Despite all her efforts, despite all her begging, she couldn’t find the resources she needed fast enough, and the accusations against her husband transmuted from corruption to treason that warranted a death sentence without appeal.

All Zil could do was witness the execution from her cell, not leaving her husband’s eyes for one moment, not even when the blade of the executioner came down and shattered her entire heart in the process.

Alone in her damp cell, shell-shocked and broken, Zil waited all night for her own sentence to pass, wishing with all her might that the moment would come soon enough so that she could be reunited with her husband once more. But, much to her dismay, during the darkest hour that preceded the arrival of dawn, the Grand Vizier herself showed up in her cell, maintaining complete secrecy.

All she carried with her was a note, carved in her husband’s handwriting, and the promise that, as a last favor to Halim, she would see Zil out of Huzuz safely. Zil escaped her own death, thanks to her husband’s foresight and protection, and fled away from the Golden City and beyond Zakhara, finally reaching distant Faerûn.

After Halim’s death, Zil assumed a new name, Aranea Baelfaer, and turned to every god and goddess in the pantheon, begging, imploring, and beseeching all of them to grant her the power to vindicate her husband and to see him one last time. But all her prayers and supplications fell into a deafening silence that reeked of contempt. Enraged with the gods for letting something like this befall a man as virtuous, kind, and compassionate as her husband, she didn’t give up and persistently sought the means to gain the power she needed, her mind and resolve sharpened by grief and rage.

Her obsession and focus would reach such heights that they resonated all across the Weave until they attracted the Patron who would finally answer her call and grant her the power she desired: Mephistopheles. Most treasured possession: Her husband’s jambiya dagger and a lock of his dark hair that she wore braided in her own; the last letter that he wrote her, that she re-read every single night before going to sleep.

Sexual and/or romantic situation: After Halim’s death, she decided to forgo any kind of romantic relationship, absolutely refusing to run the risk of facing the same type of pain she went through when her husband was killed. In her grief, she asked Mephistopheles to actually freeze her heart, putting it in a stasis. As a wager between the two of them, Mephistopheles added a small clause that declared if someone were ever able to thaw her frozen heart, she would lose her powers, her soul would be his and the contract would be considered fulfilled regardless of whether she had reached her vengeance or not. Zil humored him, secure in her belief that no one on Toril would ever be able to ever ignite the flame in her dead heart again. Last famous words indeed. Favourite place in Faerûn: She doesn’t truly have one. She finds Faerun excessively cold and humid. But if she were to choose one, it would be the Great Harbor of Waterdeep, from where she can see the City. What makes them happiest: She likes to create small illusions of her memories of her years in Zakhara and stare at them, wishing with all her might that they were more than just echoes from a distant time. What makes them angriest: Any uncalled mentioning of her late husband was enough to provoke at best a death glare and at worst an outburst of pure ire. She didn’t appreciate talking about her past or about him with anyone, for her memories of him are hers and hers alone. What makes them laugh: She rarely laughed from the heart. But something that did make her laugh and gave her comfort was hearing children’s laughter. It reminded her of simpler times. Biggest secret: Who her Patron is and the terms and conditions of her pact with him. Obsession: Revenge. She sold her soul to Mephistopheles in order to gain the power she needed to grow as powerful as she needed to be and hunt down and kill whoever was involved in Halim’s betrayal and death. If the Gods didn’t want to help her in the path of vengeance, then the might of the Archdevils would.

soooo.

While on vacation, I had sometime to properly sit down and finally write Aranea's (or should I say Zil's?) proper bio, alongside working on her infographic (and I am SO HAPPY with how it turned out. I love doing this kind of things, I have done so many that I haven't shared lol).

I still need to add a few things as I keep playing the game, which is the reason why I haven't written anything about her current relationship with Gale, the other companions, or the Dream Guardian. But as I proceed, I will update this (or make another post, we shall see) and fill in what is missing.

In the meantime, thank you for reading her profile and I hope you will love this brainchild of mine just as much as I love her <3

--Nemo

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template by @arcandoria; abridged profile template by @lairofsentinel)

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #bg3 #oc lore #dnd #dnd drow #drow #zakhara #OC:Aranea Baelfaer #my oc #my art #my writing #Nemo Draws #Nemo Writes

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wandering-winchesters · 1 year

Text

Not A Demon In Hell

Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,173

Summary: The reader is taken by a Djinn and the turmoil that follows.

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, mention of death, injuries

AN: Requests are open! Please send them to me. If you’d like to be added to my tag list, please let me know!

Masterlist

Guilt, anger, fear. These are the emotions flowing through my veins as I pace in the confined space of the motel room. Guilt, because she is missing. Fear, because I could not stand the thought of something happening to her. Anger, because whatever took her, was going to have hell to pay. My fists clench and unclench, my body so filled with adrenaline that my hands have gone stiff and cold.

I could faintly hear Sam on the phone with Bobby, discussing what had happened and what they think could have done it. But I cannot listen, the only thing I can do is pace. If I sit down, or stop to dwell on it I will go crazy. I will break anything or hurt anyone if it means getting her back. My body is on fire, like a live wire sparking on the ground. Every muscle amped, every sense heightened. Ready. Waiting.

“Dean.” Sam said softly, jerking me out of my thoughts. I did not respond, just pause in my steps and look over at the younger Winchester. Sam sighs, his brow creased, the bags under his eyes nearly as bad as my own.

“Bobby and I talked, we think it is a Djinn.” Sam’s words echo around my head, every second it repeats it distorts and grows louder. Djinn. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end, goosebumps spread quickly over my skin. Those ugly bastards. The memory of the one that had me, chilled me to my core. What hallucination did it have her locked up in. Was she scared? Was she alone? Did she think I had abandoned her? Where had we encountered the Djinn? I had not let her out of my sight this whole trip, we had been together the whole time, except...

"The bar. Sam, the bar." My voice is soft at first, rising steadily as I recall when, and where we were. "I left her to go get another beer, the Djinn must have been there and poisoned her!" I curse, clenching my hands into fists again, to keep from punching a new hole in the motel wall.

"Where would it take her?" I question, mostly talking to myself. I resume my earlier pattern of pacing, every second I waste feels like an eternity. How long had she been gone? How long had she been in pain? How long until that Djinn drains her entirely? He did not know.

"They tend to like caves, are there any cave systems nearby? We should start there." Sam says, already pulling out his laptop to search for whatever he could find.

The next hour passes so slowly, every minute dragging out longer than I thought possible. The level of fear and anxiety running through my veins, something I had not felt in a very long time. Maybe never, before this terrible day. Y/N is my best friend, there is nothing in this world I would not do to keep her safe. Keep her earthside. This is all my fault.

We had met as children, on one of the numerous occasions dad was out of town and left me to take care of Sam. The same night that the Shtriga came for Sam. She had been at the arcade, entranced by the same game that I had snuck away to play. The one that almost cost Sam his life, if my dad had not come home just in time.

I kept her at arm's length for a long time, unable to trust anyone besides Sam and my father. But she just kept showing up, she would not give up on me and I just could not figure out why. I eventually stopped resisting and slowly, overtime grew to love Y/N. Platonically at first. Over the years, we grew closer. I shared every aspect of my life with her that I could, leaving out the demons. I did not want her to think I was crazy, but deep down I really did not want her to worry about the monsters that plague my nightmares.

It was not until her parents died, an accident that I was trying to prevent. One of Sam's visions predicted it. But we didn't get there fast enough. It was then, that I told her everything. I spared no detail, fully expecting her to scream at me, tell me never to talk to her again. Y/N listened, absorbed every word, her face passive. When I finished telling her everything, what happened to mom, where I had been all of those years, why I was always travelling, what happened to her parents, I quieted. I did not dare to look up from my shaky hands.

She simply crossed the room and hugged me. Telling me that she had known something was different about me all along, and that she was grateful for someone like me, keeping others safe.

It was not long after this that she brought a case to Sam and my attention, begging for us to let her tag along. Since she was the one that did the research. I finally caved, after days of her calling and texting, she finally showed up at the door to our motel. How could I have turned her away? We were all she had left, Sam and myself.

I have known, since that night when I told her everything, that I loved her as more than a friend. I just could not bring myself to cross that line. She meant too much to me to risk losing her all together if the feelings were not reciprocated. I would rather have her in my life in a strictly platonic capacity, then not at all.

"I found it, Dean. There." I am jerked back to reality by Sam, sliding his laptop across the table and pointing to a cave system. Twenty minutes north of where we currently were.

"Lets go."

We wasted no time, grabbing the gear we would need to send this bastard back to hell. Hopefully never to return. Sam drives, which is probably a good decision. The adrenaline at an all time high as we near the caves. I am silently praying that Y/N is there. Begging any God or Angel that might exist to keep her alive, just a little while longer.

"We are going to find her, Dean." Sam says, his foot pressing the accelerator to the floor. Driving as fast as he possibly can, the need to get to Y/N just as important to Sam as it is for me.

Time is still dragging, but we eventually pull up to the spot that Sam thinks to have an entrance to the cave system. We hurriedly jump out of the Impala, wasting no time to rush into the woods.

Her flannel, rain soaked and torn is laying a few feet in front of me. A sharp punch in the face. She was here. She has to be close still. Sam sees it at the same time and nods, a silent understanding. We both approach the spot and see the entrance to the cave.

"We're comin' sweetheart." I whisper, following Sam into the darkness. It takes my eyes a minute to adjust, not wanting to use a flashlight and give away our location to the Djinn. It is relatively easy to navigate, the cave not nearly as big as the map had made it out to be. I am grateful, if it had been any longer I might have gone crazy. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest, reverberating in my ears to the point where I cannot hear the gravel crunching under my soft footsteps.

We walk as quickly, but as quietly as we can. Finally reaching an opening in the cave, wooden beams formed a rough structure within. Rope dangles down from the cross beams, loops tied in the ends. Bastards. This was definitely a Djinn. The question still remains, where is it? My grip tightens on the silver knife in my hand, the lambs blood still dried on the blade.

I turn the corner and all the air is knocked out of my lungs. Y/N. She's there, her wrists strung up above her head. Limp, Pale, sweaty and covered in bruises, but she’s breathing. In that moment, nothing else matters. I rush across the cave, my senses overwhelmed. The only sound I can hear is my heart thumping in my chest. I wrap an arm around her waist, hurriedly cutting the rope that is suspending her in the air. Her body slumps against my own, I cradle her close one hand on her back the other gently grasping the back of her neck. I brush her hair back from her face, wiping away dirt and sweat in the process.

“Y/N, sweetheart, it’s me. I’ve got you” I whisper, pressing my lips to her forehead. She’s so cold. It’s at this moment that I hear Sammy yell out a warning, my eyes snap up, locating the danger that is present. I lean Y/N up against the nearest wall, quickly stepping in between her and the Djinn that had made a sudden appearance.

“Hey, asshole!” I yell, the anger returning full force, flooding my senses. He grins, and charges full speed towards me. I grab the handle of the knife that I had sheathed, in order to hold Y/N. A fact that he fails to notice, running straight into the outstretched blade.

“Lambs blood, very useful.” I twist the blade as I speak, wishing I could have made him suffer longer for what he had done to Y/N. The Djinn falls to the floor and a small wave of relief washer over me.

“Dean.” I hear her say, a whisper, barely heard over the adrenaline pumping through me. I turn around on my heel, immediately walking back over to her. Dropping down onto my knees, I cradle her in my arms once more.

“I’m here, sweetheart. You’re okay. I’ve got you. I promise.” She looks up at me, her eyelids fluttering, exhaustion sweeping across her face.

“Am I dying? I thought I was dying, we were together in my.. my dream? It was weird, things were different-“ she stutters, confusion overwhelming her features. The grip she has on my T-shirt increasing.

“No,” I interrupt her, “no, you’re not dying. You’re okay, I’ve got you now.”

Back at the motel I insisted on patching her up myself, ignoring all of her firm protests. I couldn’t bear to let her out of my sight. Every bruise and cut, every scrape and mark on her skin hurt me as if they were my own injuries. She sat, on the counter in the small motel bathroom, the scent of antiseptic overwhelming my senses. Her eyes swollen from tears, lips trembling, brows drawn together in a heartbreaking manner.

“I don’t know how it happened De, one minute I was with you and the next, I was just gone.” She whispers, shivering slightly as I cleaned another gash I had found on her ribs.

“I know, sweetheart. Im so sorry. I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight, I never will again. This is all my fault.” I drop the antiseptic wipe in the trash and pull her into my chest. I wrap my arms around her as tightly as I dare, not wanting to hurt her any further. She relaxes against me, her hands gripping the back of my shirt pulling me even closer. I can feel her trembling, fear and anxiety still coursing through her veins.

“It’s not your fault De, you found me. I knew you would. I knew you’d never let me die. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

Her words cut me to my core. Now that I have the time to reflect on everything that had happened tears sting the corners of my eyes. How close I had come to losing her, the fear that she had experienced. Everything came flooding over me at once.

“There’s not a demon in hell that could keep me from you, sweetheart.” She sighs, wrapping her arms around my waist and slipping her hands under the hem of my shirt.

“Y/N, I can’t keep pretending here.” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “This may be terrible timing, but I love you Y/N. More than anything in this world, or the next. I love you.” I can’t bring myself to look at her, keeping my eyes trained on my reflection in the mirror behind her.

Her hands find my face, tilting my chin down towards her own. My eyes flutter closed as she presses light kisses over my chin, the corners of my lips, my jaw until finally, slowly. She presses a soft kiss to my lips. Her fingers gently stroking the sides of my face.

“Dean Michael Winchester, I love you, too.”

AN: Requests are open! Please send them to me. If you’d like to be added to my tag list, please let me know!

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #deanwinchesterblurb #deanwinchesterxreader #spn #supernatural #supernatural dean #dean x reader #dean winchester fic #deanwinchesterfluff #dean winchester comfort #dean winchester fluff #dean x you #wanderingwinchesters

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thepastisalreadywritten · 7 months

Text

Story and photographs by Ronan O’Connell

September 26, 2023

In the middle of a field in a lesser known part of Ireland is a large mound where sheep wander and graze freely.

Had they been in that same location centuries ago, these animals might have been stiff with terror, held aloft by chanting, costumed celebrants while being sacrificed to demonic spirits that were said to inhabit nearby Oweynagat cave.

This monumental mound lay at the heart of Rathcroghan, the hub of the ancient Irish kingdom of Connaught.

The former Iron Age center is now largely buried beneath the farmland of County Roscommon.

In 2021, Ireland applied for UNESCO World Heritage status for Rathcroghan (Rath-craw-hin). It remains on the organization's tentative list.

Rooted in lore

Spread across more than two square miles of rich agricultural land, Rathcroghan encompasses 240 archaeological sites, dating back 5,500 years.

They include burial mounds, ring forts (settlement sites), standing stones, linear earthworks, an Iron Age ritual sanctuary — and Oweynagat, the so-called gate to hell.

More than 2,000 years ago, when Ireland’s communities seem to have worshipped nature and the land itself, it was here at Rathcroghan that the Irish New Year festival of Samhain (SOW-in) was born, says archaeologist and Rathcroghan expert Daniel Curley.

In the 1800s, the Samhain tradition was brought by Irish immigrants to the United States, where it morphed into the sugar overload that is American Halloween.

Dorothy Ann Bray, a retired associate professor at McGill University and an expert in Irish folklore, explains that pre-Christian Irish divided each year into summer and winter.

Within that framework were four festivities.

Imbolc, on February 1, was a festival that coincided with lambing season.

Bealtaine, on May 1, marked the end of winter and involved customs like washing one’s face in dew, plucking the first blooming flowers, and dancing around a decorated tree.

August 1 heralded Lughnasadh, a harvest festival dedicated to the god Lugh and presided over by Irish kings.

Then on October 31 came Samhain, when one pastoral year ended and another began.

Rathcroghan was not a town, as Connaught had no proper urban centers and consisted of scattered rural properties.

Instead, it was a royal settlement and a key venue for these festivals.

During Samhain, in particular, Rathcroghan was a hive of activity focused on its elevated temple, which was surrounded by burial grounds for the Connachta elite.

Those same privileged people may have lived at Rathcroghan. The remaining lower-class Connachta communities resided in dispersed farms and descended on the site only for festivals.

At those lively events they traded, feasted, exchanged gifts, played games, arranged marriages, and announced declarations of war or peace.

Festivalgoers also may have made ritual offerings, possibly directed to the spirits of Ireland’s otherworld.

That murky, subterranean dimension, also known as Tír na nÓg (Teer-na-nohg), was inhabited by Ireland’s immortals, as well as a myriad of beasts, demons, and monsters.

During Samhain, some of these creatures escaped via Oweynagat cave (pronounced “Oen-na-gat” and meaning “cave of the cats”).

“Samhain was when the invisible wall between the living world and the otherworld disappeared,” says Mike McCarthy, a Rathcroghan tour guide and researcher who has co-authored several publications on the site.

“A whole host of fearsome otherworldly beasts emerged to ravage the surrounding landscape and make it ready for winter.”

Thankful for the agricultural efforts of these spirits but wary of falling victim to their fury, the people protected themselves from physical harm by lighting ritual fires on hilltops and in fields.

They disguised themselves as fellow ghouls, McCarthy says, so as not to be dragged into the otherworld via the cave.

Despite these engaging legends — and the extensive archaeological site in which they dwell — one easily could drive past Rathcroghan and spot nothing but paddocks.

Inhabited for more than 10,000 years, Ireland is so dense with historical remains that many are either largely or entirely unnoticed.

Some are hidden beneath the ground, having been abandoned centuries ago and then slowly consumed by nature.

That includes Rathcroghan, which some experts say may be Europe’s largest unexcavated royal complex.

Not only has it never been dug up, but it also predates Ireland’s written history.

That means scientists must piece together its tale using non-invasive technology and artifacts found in its vicinity.

While Irish people for centuries knew this site was home to Rathcroghan, it wasn’t until the 1990s that a team of Irish researchers used remote sensing technology to reveal its archaeological secrets beneath the ground.

“The beauty of the approach to date at Rathcroghan is that so much has been uncovered without the destruction that comes with excavating upstanding earthwork monuments,” Curley says.

“[Now] targeted excavation can be engaged with, which will answer our research questions while limiting the damage inherent with excavation.”

Becoming a UNESCO site

This policy of preserving Rathcroghan’s integrity and authenticity extends to tourism.

Despite its significance, Rathcroghan is one of Ireland’s less frequented attractions, drawing some 22,000 visitors a year compared with more than a million at the Cliffs of Moher.

That may not be the case had it long ago been heavily marketed as the “Birthplace of Halloween,” Curley says.

But there is no Halloween signage at Rathcroghan or in Tulsk, the nearest town.

Rathcroghan’s renown should soar, however, if Ireland is successful in its push to make it a UNESCO World Heritage site.

The Irish Government has included Rathcroghan as part of the “Royal Sites of Ireland,” which is on its newest list of locations to be considered for prized World Heritage status.

The global exposure potentially offered by UNESCO branding would likely attract many more visitors to Rathcroghan.

But it seems unlikely this historic jewel will be re-packaged as a kitschy Halloween tourist attraction.

“If Rathcroghan got a UNESCO listing and that attracted more attention here that would be great, because it might result in more funding to look after the site,” Curley says.

“But we want sustainable tourism, not a rush of gimmicky Halloween tourism.”

Those travelers who do seek out Rathcroghan might have trouble finding Oweynagat cave.

Oweynagat is elusive — despite being the birthplace of Medb, perhaps the most famous queen in Irish history, 2,000 years ago.

Barely signposted, it’s hidden beneath trees in a paddock at the end of a one-way, dead-end farm track, about a thousand yards south of the much more accessible temple mound.

Visitors are free to hop a fence, walk through a field, and peer into the narrow passage of Oweynagat.

In Ireland’s Iron Age, such behavior would have been enormously risky during Samhain, when even wearing a ghastly disguise might not have spared the wrath of a malevolent creature.

Two millennia later, most costumed trick-or-treaters on Halloween won’t realize they’re mimicking a prehistoric tradition — one with much higher stakes than the pursuit of candy.

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thithesandofferings · 4 months

Text

Title: The Be-comings of Ardor

Summary: You win the Demon Kure Raian as a prize. Now its up to you to get you to acknowledge him.

Pairing: Raian x Reader

AN: To be very honest, I just wanted something to write. Based of the excerpt from here . I wanted to write a slow burn Raian x Reader but...i didnt know the plot so uhm...you get him as a demon... Also this fandom isnt as big so really 8 people could read it and id be fine.

Tags: Descriptions of violence. Slow...slow burn. Eventual smut. Multi-chaptered. Nothing too crazy. I havent decided if I wanted to get any crazier lol. Honestly this is just an excuse to learn how to write descriptively so please bare with me.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

You are drenched when you are told about your prize . You don't have time to dwell on past lives sticking and caving into your skin. Becoming an uninvited home in your nails. Teeth aching from the minute grinding of bone. Gums stained sticky with blood that isn't yours. Acrid air pours through your lashes as you try to blink through the chaos staining the marrow of your skull. There is an in-depth ignorance when you stand on your enemies. Your hunger docile only by the swaths of meat you have taken. Pealing and rotting underneath your tongue. You can taste their rage and despair. It feels like condemnation.

The Kure family is filled with demons. Gifting you a malevolent spirit for your victorious slaughter is an inconsequential choice. An ancestor long since passed. Has been alive since the world had begun to form. You do not dwell much on it. Empty... Distant and unsure of who you are at the present. Wondering if the sands at your feet have packed your soul away too.

They tell you with unsteady hands and sympathetic looks that "no one has ever been able to handle him properly." Glee tugs at simpered lips when they whisper that you will surely die if you cannot handle it.

It. Primordial. Eldritch almost in nature. The demon has ruthlessly taken countless. Sharpening its tongue with hollowed bones for the sake of good weather. They produce photos of him. The clans black eyes shimmer with thoughts of humiliation and desire to ruin when they show you their past relative. He's a God in their roving eyes. To finally ascend is a gift to them. You are driven by an instinctual tug to move when you do see the creature. He was a beast even in his former life. Hulking mass with a propensity to maim and kill.

Contempt licks up the path of your skin at the thought of fearing him. You are greeted immediately with an unbecoming emotion that impales you. Greed. A snarling voice unlike your own, claws through your numbing brain. He is yours. Your honor cannot be tampered when you think about the battles you fought and won to earn him. A cruel heat scatters your skin and you think briefly that it may be possession. You shrug it off as an afterthought.

You have always known that gluttony and greed ring soundly in your blood. Now is not the time to dwell on ideas and dreams.

The grim faces of men circle you in the centerfold to perform the ritual, bringing the archaic demon. You have killed enough men to honor its terms. The air is stale with apprehension and slighted fear. You have to prove that you're worthy, even after all the lives strayed across the sand. If you are not, then your life- and the men around you, will end.

You've never been much afraid of death.

The whispers bring forth laden wind. Wet and dense, petrichor aching to dig its teeth into your skin. There is an unnatural silence once the mutters of ancient tongue cease. Crickets noises snuffed out with the unease of the earth as it waits.

Your body knows the moment he is there. The heat almost searing at the back of your neck when he stands behind you. His massive frame slicing through the permeable silence as you hear the shuffling of the men almost forgotten. Your eyes are closed and yet you can still almost taste the ephemeral life that is behind you. The age weighs heavy on your bones. Ancient. Like they said. Inhuman in a way that makes you think that your future is just to be leftovers for him. His frame claws at you. Shadows peeling across your skin, scalding and feverish, beckoning you to turn around.

You are not one to back down from a challenge.

He takes the form of a human. Flinty, barely holding his power into the meat suit he prostrates himself in. He's the biggest thing you have ever seen in your life. Muscles fight for space, veins bulge and quake proudly. His strength carries him as he strides towards you in slow, decadents steps. Hulking in mass. He is a monster. Teeth sharpened with sharpened glee. Lips spread too wide for it to be comfortable. Skin peeling on the corners, blood tunneling to the front. There is madness in the poisoned whites of his eyes. Black ink devouring you, crumbling your resolve when you look at him. They're like nothing you've ever seen before. Archaic, unnatural- predatory when he accesses you. An ancestral look you know all too well, the look of suddenly finding prey. Gravity finds a way into the black holes that suffocates his gaze. It makes your knees tremble. You are not ready to discuss why it is not fear that echoes and tracks the shivers in your hands.

He is so close that you smell him. Ashen and bloodied earth clog your senses and you have to quickly blink away the tears from the strength of it. It mellows your brain, cleaning the abject cobwebs littered across.

You're distracted enough that you cant run from the grip he has on your wrist. Pinching and crunching the already bruised flesh, you know he is assessing you. His stare burning and muted, you feel like an insect.

His manic gaze suddenly cools, air becoming increasingly stale and scarce. He lets go off your wrist, throws it more like, and begins to walk toward the people you had briefly forgotten existed.

"Raian, we are so glad that-" There is a choked and horrid crack as you hear the mans body falls listlessly to the ground.

"Shut up and find me something to eat before I decide its going to be you." There is a stalled millisecond of silence before the group shuffles away with their ancestor in front.

The one who never looks back at you again.

Your so called prize no longer even acknowledges you.

The ache of death and fear permeates your bones. Muted until now, it is time for you to go home. A small smile cracking the edge of your lips.

#raian x reader #kengan ashura #kengan omega #kure raian #raian kure #thithesandofferings

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inyujidraws · 4 months

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If my OC Creon Gilead were in the Helluva-verse. Blame Hazbin Hotel for this. Did 2 versions; one where she falls from heaven, and starting off as a sinner.

For context, the Earth has made radical leaps in technology up to 2080-ish, which led to the rise of meta-humans (bio-engineered mutants) and bio-terrorist sects.

Creon has committed a lot of horrible war crimes due to her time in the army and hired mercenary. But she strived to live as a better person after ending her service. Unfortunately the U.S. government blackmailed her into serving again to fight against another potential bio-terror sect. She died in the line of duty again, leaving behind a grieving community and friends. Not sure if this time she was briefly married or didn't meet a special someone.

Since she died as a fully-evolved mutant, she'll start off abnormally strong (not overlord level). This takes place during the so called 7-year absence of Lilith and the Radio Demon.

Fallen Angel

If she started off as a fallen angel, she'd definitely be picked up by Lucifer. He probably felt the disturbance of lots of exorcists being slaughtered, which is a first.

Most of the time Creon is making sure to bring him meals and reminding him to rest. At one point she gets stressed and extremely paranoid at Lucifer's spiraling mental state that she resorts to calling Charlie. Reconciliation takes place much faster, and Creon ends up splitting time helping at the hotel, and dragging Lucifer to said-hotel to spend time with his daughter.

Radio Demon's Assistant

If she started as a sinner in Hell (she figured that's where she'd go if Hell existed), she originally roughed it out near the edges of the city while killing and eating stray exorcists via ambush tactics. Eventually gave up on cave-dwelling and found low-entry job at Vox-tech. Eventually worked her way up due to taking initiative and Vox really valued how her work-ethic, adaptability, and genuine attitude.

It didn't take too long for Creon to be trusted with leading projects that had some success, and her influence to grow. Vox and Velvette were on board to make her a fellow Vee. Creon rejected the offer, but Vox didn't take that rejection well. Creon barely escaped Vox's brainwashing after injuring him and getting her wings. Creon was injured, mentally struggling, and bombarded from extreme visual and audio stimuli from all of the screens that surrounded the Vees territory.

Alastor found her and took her away so she could heal in peace. Alastor was able to persuade Creon into making a deal with him for her protection. It was icing on the top since he literally stole Vox's brand new "star." Alastor has found a new and exciting puzzle to solve and he relishes in poking and prodding his latest prey. Extra bonus since Creon's is a good chef and he gets to rub it in Vox's pathetic face.

Alastor likes to send Creon to go and kill whatever unlucky demon that pissed him off. All for the pure sadistic pleasure of chipping away at her humanity and morals. Thankfully she's really good friends with Husk. Nifty...she appreciates the little gremlin maid. Creon is always having to put up with Alastor's malicious pranks, chaotic antics, and mundane tasks. The one bright side is that Alastor has a co-star for his broadcasts. She'll join the Hazbin Hotel as the chef and give Charlie and Vaggie much needed advice with rehabilitating addicts.

#creon gilead #sketches #original character #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #angels and demons #radio demon #hazbin alastor #hazbin vox #bats

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kirbybecomesastarwarrior · 4 months

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What Kind of King is in my Blood?

Context: this piece was inspired by the song "In My Blood." sung by Joel Smallbone from Journey to Bethlehem (the movie). And contains the lyrics of the song.

Warning: content contains blood (mild) & implied physical abuse... the more graphic scenes to be underneath the keep reading section of the post... if you are uncomfortable with such things.

I've mentioned this before in a previous post & please check out the original video (have a listen: it's incredible). Or better yet, put it on while reading the comic. :D

I do suggest you read: Celestine is Merlin before this;

Young Arthur... was not a good person in the sightless and was very close to becoming a mini-Sir Uther. And I also would like to stress how evil Sir Uther is...(Uther is not Arthur's father, but the song just fits them so...)

Behind the arrogance and pride, his actions were a tie of wanting and seeking Uther's approval...

Other than that, please enjoy the content.

Background info: this takes place around the time Arthur starts to take a liking to Merlyn and even trust them (and before he found out Merlyn was Lady Celestine). Soon their game of cat & mouse blossomed into a friendship...

Celestine never put pressure on Arthur to change: in fact, she tried to save Nonsurat & Morgan, too... she'd put them in scenarios where she'd see them grow empathy. (Putting someone in another's shoes.)

She'd show them the damage the war was doing to the public... and the innocent.

Allowing them all the chance to do good but in the end...The only one who was receptive to it was Arthur. Which surprised her... she believed Arthur would be the last person who would be captivated by the lesson. (Since he was Uther's most loyal soldier... his right-hand man...)

When it was clear that the lessons were only effective for Arthur (and the only one who was willing to change), she started to tailor them for Arthur. Genuinely started by doing vigilante work with Merlyn and learning more about this "outside world he never knew about."

(Unbeknownst to these goobers these were pretty much the equivalent of dates.)

However, Arthur couldn't help but feel guilty that he was betraying his master (Uther). That all changed, however, after a certain mission...

Arthur & Company were tasked to clear a demon infestation of a cave. Which held serval rare artifacts that were stolen. Some of Nightmare's monsters had made it into a stronghold (a secret base), and Arthur was in charge of clearing it. Morgan tried to trap Arthur in the deeper, darkest part of the cave where the majority of the monsters were dwelling.

Thankfully, Celestine secretly tagged along with him!

It took them a week... to escape the cave ... everyone had started to assume that Arthur had died during the mission. He was about to report his return as soon as he arrived at the camp base until... he overheard a very upsetting conversation.

Sir Kay (Kit Cosmo): Sir Uther! Sir Arthur is still missing, we can't leave just yet...

Sir Uther: He's been missing for a week... we only have three days left on this planet, and we need to finish recovering the reset of the artifacts... our time & manpower is limited.

Kit Cosmo: It that's the case... I'd be more than willing to take a small team to recover him... heck, I'll even go there by myself if I have to...

Sir Uther: DID YOU NOT HEAR WHAT I SAID! I am not wasting manpower... are you questioning my judgment?

Kit Cosmo: NO SIR!* Nevourly but still firm* I just thought you'd press the issue more... he's our captain and, more importantly, your right-hand man-

Sir Uther: WHY do you think you have two other apprentices... he's replaceable...If he died out there then he's a failure that deserves to be left... DON'T NOT BOTHER LOOKING FOR HIM!

You're lucky I have more pressing issues to attend to or that right arm or yours would've been charred... This conversation is over! *leans into Kit menacingly* YOU'RE DISMISSED! *Kit lets out a big gulp and backs away out of the tent*

Little did they know Arthur & Celestine (Merlyn) were listening in on the conversation. With Celestine fuming... and with Arthur shaking...

Celestine (currently disguised as Merlyn): WHY THAT FAT HEADED TYRANT! Don't listen to him, you're- Arthur? *sees Arthurs gone* Arthur...

Arthur runs off to contemplate... his mind reeling from what he had just heard. He always knew that Uther saw him as nothing more than a tool. The title of the right hand was just merely a cover-up... a lie made by Sir Uther (that he was something to him). He always knew this, but he couldn't understand why this still hurt him so much.

Arthur, at his core... still just wanted to be praised and desperately wanted at least a shred of affection from Uther. Hearing this broke him instantly... and forced him to look inside himself. He may have always known it... but a part of him always wanted to believe in the lie... So he put this facade of pride and arrogance to ignore it.

Only realizing how much Uther took advantage of his desire for affection from him... allowing him (Uther) to mold him into what he wanted. The brilliant golden amor (that Uther gave him), was all part of the illusion... he was no hero... he was just a monster... just like his master... just like Uther...

This leads us to this scene...

-The key things I wanted to mention were those marks on Arthur's shoulders are burn marks...

-Those bubbles at the end represent Celestine's influence

-I featured a Kirby-sized baby Arthur with a little training armor... it's pretty much his inner child... Sweet little bean didn't deserve this

-I also updated Uther's shoes :3

At this point, Celestine already cares for Arthur so much, and he's already redeemed himself (in her eyes). But Arthur can't help but hate himself for his past actions now seeing the full picture...

He destroyed himself for a man... who would never care for him... Arthur couldn't help but feel ashamed. He felt so disgusted with himself... forgetting all the progress he'd made... Believing himself to be a worthless puppet...

And it broke her heart to see Arthur like this... that's why she reminds him of what she sees him as. And this is where Arthur finally breaks down his final wall and truly opens himself up. Celestine always saw Arthur as a more than worthy king and always saw the best in him... and that's why Arthur always saw her (in the future) as his queen...

"Did I put too much characterization to a background character we only saw for less than 5 minutes in the anime?" YES, I DID!

"Was it worth it?" YES IT WAS!

(In the KBASW) Sir Arthur is the one who approves and legitimizes the "Star Allies" because if someone like him could be changed for the better... why can't this rag-tag group. Sir Arthur (in a sense) is the first "redeemed villain"...

It just took one person to see the good in him... I really can't wait to explore their relationship (Celarthur) more... I have something special planned for them in February. And I do want to explore Kit Cosmo & Arthur's friendship: it's really fun~

(The Star Allies are going to be the equivalent of the Knights of the Round Table in KBASW, but I'll explore that later...)

Hope you all stick around to see how the story unfolds...

#kirby #kbasw #sir arthur kirby #sir arthur #sir uther #kirby oc #lady celestine #kirby anime #celarthur #kirby gsa #merlyn #journey to bethlehem #kirby right back at ya #krbay

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still-a-morosexual-help · 2 days

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What is uncommon, however, is the thick bandages wrapped around the entire upper half of the leg of the demon currently hobbling his way past the open kitchen door and towards the entrance.

Visiting Kinks (fic Link)

Unnamed, Gender-Neutral MC + Asmo, Belphie & Levi

Summary:

It's a normal day in the Devildom.

(half of) The Gang have the sex talk. No, not that sex talk. The one about kinks.

Additionally, in which the demons are DEMONS and the human is concernedly unperturbed.

Tags: • Platonic Relationships • Blood and Gore • Crack • Crack Treated Seriously • Humor •No Sex

Rating: E

Comments & kudos & reblogs are always treasured because I am a cave dwelling little creature that hoards that shit and snorts it like crack

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iheartfinalgirls · 13 days

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Here’s my Clown (2014) oc I was talking abt

(Tagging you @cosmamoon because you wanted to hear about it)

(For context: Clown is a 2014 horror movie directed by Jon Watts. It’s about a real estate agent, Kent McCoy, who, after finding out that the professional clown he hired for his son, Jack’s, birthday party isn’t going to make it to the party, finds a clown costume in a house he’s selling and decides to step in as the clown. But after falling asleep in the costume, he finds that he physically cannot remove it.)

Anyways, my oc’s (These are fairly new oc’s so bear with me, they may not be fully developed. Also this is an au so it won’t exactly follow the events of Clown):

-Charlotte McNamara is a teenage girl who loves loves loves ballet despite how much it hurts.

-She also lives right next door to the McCoy’s and sometimes babysits Jack.

-(This is the part that may be altered a few times because it may not make a lot of sense:) She gets bullied at ballet class because teenagers lowkey suck. They splash her with fake blood because they know damn well shes terrified of blood. This also ruins her costume for the upcoming talent show at the ballet studio, which is meant to take place the day after this incident. Dammit.

-Buuuuuuuuuut there’s old costumes in the ballet studio’s basement! Yippieee! And the costume she happens upon is almost the same style as her old one!

-The costume btw is a white lolita dress, black ballet slippers, and a white mask with a marionette-like movable jaw.

-She wore it to the show. Yay.

-Wait she can’t take the costume or the mask off. It feels like they’re stuck to her skin.

-Like Kent, she tries everything she can to remove this costume. She tries to cut off the dress but it doesn’t work. It can’t be removed.

-She begins to experience bizarre symptoms. Like coughing up a black substance and pulling white strings out from under her fingernails. This happens as the costume begins to merge with her flesh.

-The mask is her face now.

-Oh and she brutally murders a man she caught kidnapping children at some point.

-Her and Kent also try to kill eachother on multiple occasions (more on that later)

-This transformation also makes her better at ballet???

-She also killed the ballet instructor because she’s mean to kids. And then she dwells in the ballet studio, dancing and making webs.

-Once she’s fully transformed, she lured Kent, who’s also fully transformed, into the ballet studio.

-The girls are fightinggggg

-This au has different endings but I don’t wanna get into that now

-Anyways. The costume is actually the skin and face of an ancient demon, Arachna Y’silki.

-Who is this Jane Doe Webby Black Swan lovechild you may ask?

-She lived in the Icelandic mountains. The same mountains as Clöyne (The demon possessing Kent via the clown costume). But they lived in different caves.

-Clöyne and Arachna fucking HATE eachother.

-Seriously, they’ve been fighting for centuries. Get their asses on reality tv!!!

-The reason behind their rivalry lies in the fact that Arachna protects children. Clöyne eats children.

-She would lure children away from him by singing. She would keep children in her cave until it’s safe for them to go back home.

-She grieves the ones she couldn’t save.

That’s the lore (for now) I may have forgotten some details or I just haven’t fully developed the lore. But here’s the current lore.

Will be posting headcanons

#clown 2014 #Charlotte McNamara #arachna y’silki #cringe oc posting/aff

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