RITE OF BLOOD.

I DON’T WANT TO BE LOVED, I DON’T WANT TO BE FORGIVEN, LET ME REDEFINE GOD INTO SOMETHING I CAN BECOME.

[shedivinea]

♡          /     godblooded

your claws were buried in the soft skin of her throat. you remember the way it had opened, rubies spilling and clattering to the floor, spilling. you had wished so dearly that you could hear them– had desired so truly for it to be anything else. so truly for it to be anything besides the small puddle edging to lap against your boots, to lightly touch leather. you kept your eyes on her face and her own expression. you watched the peaceful calm, felt all that pain flow through you, and she spoke to you so quietly, i waited for you. oh, i waited so long for you. 

she speaks to you and you look at her– you cannot hide your face, nor can you hide the eye you no longer have. it is but scar tissue, and you do not deceive royalty. it would be against your nature. it would be indecent. it would be an offense worthy of your death. (and what death?)

the feeling of her calm is flowing through your veins. it tingles in your fingertips, runs along your spine. you growl softly under your breath, an animal instinctively goaded into discomfort. her tenderness causes you nothing but discomfort. you avoid eye contact pointedly, even if you should have only one eye to cause the contact with.

“i inter-rude on y’kingdom. yeh had’uh right.”

❛     violence  should  never  be  the  first  answer.     ❜          a  rule  the  amazon  sticks  by.     always  willing  to  give  multiple  chances          /          keeping  faith  in  people  despite  the  worst  she  faces.     extend  a  hand  first  before  a  fist.     she  cannot  blame  defense  or  the  actions  of  the  other.     and  diana  is  not  above  admitting  she  is  wrong          /          that  her  first  actions  were  unnecessary.     an  apology  heavy  on  her  features.

fingers  unconsciously  make  their  way  to  her  neck     ,          the  indents  of  the  other’s  claws  are  still  there     ,          healing          /          but  not  quite  there  yet.     not  the  best  of  introductions  but  not  all  of  them  could  go  as  well  as  diana  hopes.     but  her  kingdom  is  a  welcoming  one     ,          though  hardly  diana’s  kingdom.     she  will  still  uphold  the  values  all  amazons  do.     and  diana  more  than  most.     openly  caring  for  others     ,          her  emotions  worn  on  her  sleeve  alongside  her  heart.

her  hand  reaches  out  though  does  not  initiate  contact.     for  it  is  quite  clear  that  kitty  herself  is  avoiding  it.     but  the  amazon  herself  is  a  physical  being     ,          her  intentions  quite  clear  she  might  as  well  have  been  shouting  them.     as  is     ,          her  voice  is  quiet.          ❛     we  get  very  few  visitors     ,          it  was  wrong  of  me  to  react  like  that.     if  i  may     —–     ❜          and  now  she  really  does  pause          /          though  it  would  be  incorrect  to  assume  that  the  amazon  is  embarrassed.          ❛     you  seem  so  familiar     ,          like  an  old  friend.     yet  i  know  we  have  never  met  before.     ❜

perhaps  confirming  something  kitty  already  felt  but  diana  does  not  have  an  exact  name  for.     there  were  people  destined  to  be  together          /          a  whole  body  separated  into  two.     four  legs     ,          four  arms     ,          two  heads     ,          but  one  heart.     women  on  themyscira  who  found  their  souls  connected.     but  diana  had  never  experienced  that  herself.     had  no  baseline  to  compare  the  feeling  too.

[godbloodednope]

you loved her and you were lost to her at once. you adored her with everything in your heart and everything in the mythological concept, the discussion of the soul. you will love her long after she remains and the universe is long gone. you will love the body she leaves behind, untouched and familiar, laid to rest in the royal crypt beside mother and father, beside drake, beside gwyneth, so long ago crowned and dead at the hands of the one just silenced. you see their blood on your hands. you see it soaked bright red. you hear them still. you remember them well.

when you took her life you snipped your own thread. it was a willing separation, tearing free. the blood trickling and trickling until it had drained and was no more. until your desperate, sobbing hysteria subdued to weak whimpers. you loved her and she was lost to you.

with her death, so too was your bond severed. you do not have another. you cannot. but this pull she speaks of feels familiar. it feels— unwanted. you do not wish to revisit, to recreate what was several lifetimes of love now tainted by death. you wish to leave it where it was, and besides, it is impossible. it is completely impossible. she is gone, and so, too, are you. losing her also meant losing you.

you do not and cannot imagine it. so she extends a hand and you glance at it with your head cocked, curious and anxious at once. “nuh,” it’s gruff and quiet. your head shakes, swift, and your voice settles into a low, calm purr, “what would yeh have me do, princess?” it is reverent. it is appreciative. you are a dog to royalty. you are collared about the throat. you are less than she, and always will.

your posture is straight, heavy, speaks of a knight’s gait. this place sparks your discomfort. this place creates a sense of tingling fear within you, as all things do, but her calm blankets you and somehow you feel at war with yourself. you push the feeling away when an eye closes for a moment, opens.

“i’on’ unnerstand.”

[godbloodednope]

With deliberation she stood on her back, paws between her shoulder blades. It took a painfully long amount of time before she finally sat down, and her feet no longer dug into her back. When Kitty refused to wake, Glinda decided to go back to bed, too, and lay down on top of her, vibrating as she purred.

the creature yet slumbers, chest rising silent and soundless. the feline bothers the feline, in turn, though one is, perhaps, not feline at all. kitty valentine, in spite of her name, is barely a kitten at all. and then the soft touch of warmth, the tiny places it brushes across flesh. the creature yet sleeps, and the cat settles on deeply tanned skin. sleep is so elusive and so quiet, creeps on as it does. the touches turn into buzzes, and finally the beast stirs, mouth wide open in a sharp-toothed, kittenish yawn.

“uh h-- highness.” she’s swift in speech, clear and garbled all at the very same time, roughly brushed with sand. and dares not move, of course. still.

[godbloodednope]

"Can you, uh..." Glinda pursed her lips and frowned in concentration. This was hard enough as it was. It had been two weeks now, and still she hadn't put away Pearl's things. "Could you please... put that in the attic?" Glinda gestured vaguely at the bowls still standing where they always stood. Her gaze rested on them for only seconds before she looked away again.

you think a lot about how the two of you are so different but so the same. you’re siblings, yeah, and you grew up with her-- with your other sister-- but you’ve seen so much more death, heartbreak, chaos. you feel, feel that sense of empathy. it breaks your heart. (you loved pearl. she was a member of your family, too. you’ll tell glinda eventually when she accidentally stumbles across your painting you’re making-- you know, because you were ducking out for hours to wok on it-- to immortalize your long lost feline.) you hold the porcelain beneath your chin and you don’t let that tear slip out of your eye and slide soundlessly down the smooth surface.

“yeah, of course, i sure can,” you grab the bowls, turn them over a couple times as you stand, “um. can i hang onto these? like. would you-- would it be-- okay if i did? i just.. i have an idea. is that okay?” you’re fucking baleful when you look at her, hopeful. let her do the right thing. let her do a good thing.

it’s all she wants. to prove that to you.

[godbloodednope]

this is good. this is important.

a soft growl beneath your voice, a tender sound that is perhaps curious and also interested. good. important. you don’t understand this. the princess wraps softest satin around your palm, five deep gashes of ruby red blood where claws cut in unwittingly. the air bites against the wounds and you imagine, of course, that is your punishment for your foolishness. but she keeps softening you yet more, dabbing blood away and sealing it safely. your next sound is a curious twist of a noise, high and soft, the noise a lemur makes in inquisition, and your nose twitches. you are silent, but only to listen to her further, to beckon her words.

[godbloodednope]

‘ your failures are just what happened — they don’t have to be who you are ’

“an’ whattya know’uh ‘at?!”

you do not yell because perhaps you cannot. your voice is great when it shouts, is not a bellow but is full of the exact violence you can enact. your hands shake. you want nothing more than to peel these gloves off and dig your hands into everything you can-- you wish to scratch, tear with claws. you turn instead, each stride a stalk of movement. you taste copper in your mouth, hot and terrible and familiar, though when you swallow it is gone.

“’ey AH who y’ah. weaknesses’re in-ex-cusable,” you could strike anything within your grasp, but you remain contained, instead. creeping discomfort crawls up your spine and suddenly a brilliant glimmer of electric blue spirals around an arm-- you watch it hop, skip, and then jump. it bites into your jacket as it might a length of barbed wire, thorns slicing into flesh and then fleeing into thin air. you make no move to inform you have been affected. you have not. you turn swift, viper-fast. you are all sharp, small teeth, made for gnashing, made for shredding. they seem kittenish, to the unassuming.

you fall into her shadow naturally-- she is near two heads taller than you, after all, though you are short for your race. she dwarfs you in her might. she cradles you in the cool blanket of her shade, and all you can feel is resentment toward her kindness. you want to bite into your own flesh again, and the repercussion of your magicks do not follow in the boom of your temper.

a hand waves idly. your motion is a glove shifting in a ripple. your motions are elegant, and they have been taught as such. you are nothing but wave kissing shore, wind across meadow, warm murmur of flame, lowest purr of sand. it’s her weapon that comes to her, then, and you intend her to catch it. you, unmoving, allow a boot sole to come down and you wait.

a gloved hand raises. you beckon inward, and your words slice swiftly, “c’mon ‘en.”

[godbloodednope]

a deal is a promise, and a promise is unbreakable. / all of these are from diana

a promise is unbreakable. you wonder if she believes that, but you have not known many promise-keepers. you, yourself, are a liar. it is carved deep into your flesh. the word witch burns at your flesh. you feel it beneath the sleeve of your leather jacket. it tingles on your skin.

you shake your head with a low purr of a growl, silent and rasped, forget to chase it also with words. speech so often escapes you.

“‘t’s not true.”

[godbloodednope]

new.

cannot  help  herself  from  eyeing  the  other  woman  with  continued  curiosity.     there  is  a  pull  at  the  back  of  her  mind          /          can  feel  it  all  the  way  down  to  the  nape  of  her  neck.     a  curious  feeling.     as  if  there  is  a  pressure  there  and  yet  also  relieved.     like  she  has  found  something  the  amazon  did  not  know  she  was  missing.  the  amazons  on  themyscira  spoke  often  of  a  bond  between  people          /          one  that  bound  their  very  souls.     and  while  diana  had  been  with  others     ,          it  was  never  the  bond  that  was  spoken  of.     never  quite  the  right  feeling.

so  she  is  inexperienced  in  many  ways  to  this  world  and  the  people  that  inhabit  it.     this  one  in  particular          /          an  oddity     ,          but  one  diana  appreciates.     she  enjoys  and  celebrates  those  that  are  different.

❛     i  mean  you  no  harm.     i  apologize  that  we  clashed  in  such  a  way.     you  surprised  me.     ❜          there  it  is  again          /          the  odd  feeling  at  the  base  of  her  skull     ,          emotions  that  she  cannot  distinguish  from  her  own     ,          but  finds  it  odd  to  be  experiencing.     on  instinct          /          for  she  has  felt  these  emotions  before     ,          diana  seeks  to  soothe  the  confusing  emotions.     pushing  calm.          /     @godblooded

your claws were buried in the soft skin of her throat. you remember the way it had opened, rubies spilling and clattering to the floor, spilling. you had wished so dearly that you could hear them-- had desired so truly for it to be anything else. so truly for it to be anything besides the small puddle edging to lap against your boots, to lightly touch leather. you kept your eyes on her face and her own expression. you watched the peaceful calm, felt all that pain flow through you, and she spoke to you so quietly, i waited for you. oh, i waited so long for you. 

she speaks to you and you look at her-- you cannot hide your face, nor can you hide the eye you no longer have. it is but scar tissue, and you do not deceive royalty. it would be against your nature. it would be indecent. it would be an offense worthy of your death. (and what death?)

the feeling of her calm is flowing through your veins. it tingles in your fingertips, runs along your spine. you growl softly under your breath, an animal instinctively goaded into discomfort. her tenderness causes you nothing but discomfort. you avoid eye contact pointedly, even if you should have only one eye to cause the contact with.

“i inter-rude on y’kingdom. yeh had’uh right.”

[godbloodednope]

 @kryptonianbcrn​ (x)

she is far kinder than a person should have any right to be, to have suffered as she has, to have felt that pain and yet, to still speak to you so warmly. you think at the very consideration your cheeks may flush a deeper shade of red, though you are unsure if that is embarrassment or just an overwhelm of feeling. the sensation itself is very strange, and it falls easily into your silence. you watch her sometimes and wish you had the words to express your emotional capacity. you do not, so you stay quiet.

she touches your hand, as she is so often wont to do, and you feel yourself-- somehow seem to hesitate only a bit. it startles you, the way she speaks. there is a fealty in her heart you may have known in your own when you were very young.

how clearly you remember something so long gone.

you feel your chest pitter and then patter and lean forward to press a kiss to her forehead and that, too, lingers. you will do all things possible to keep her safe. you will harm whoever you must to do so.

“yuh ver’ brave.”

[godbloodednope]

bloop.

[godbloodednope]

“‘m’sorr’. Wasn’t listenin’. Was thinkin’ ‘bout ice cream.”

At least she’s honest.

[godbloodednope]

@kryptonianbcrn

you, frightful dark creature, the very embodiment of original sin, the very personification of all that is wrong, just that, you walking along the floor with a little blonde toddler stumbling between her legs, little hands held in your own gloved ones. the bouncy child trips and almost hurls forth, but it is your grip that keeps her up. this is your child, your daughter, the newest love of your life, a little one you will keep far safer than any other you have before.

and you are more than what you had been, are you not? you are more than a god or a creature, now, more than merely an animal. it feels and is still strange. it is a massive difference from who yo have been, or what kind of beast you were before.

and the moment kara comes in, you’re scooping up this giggling little girl, depositing her gently into the other’s arms with a grin. no words needed, not when you communicate best in the happy, gleeful little sounds emerging from this ecstatic infant. she may speak for you, so much in this way.

[kryptonianbcrn]

                                                                       YOU; THE RADIANT SUN.

                                                   indie. private. selective. kara danvers from dctv’s supergirl.                                                                                                                         written by kristen.

AND I; POOR ICARUS.

indie. selective. original character. kitty valentine. loved by kat valentine.

[prevsapphism]

New meme. What’s ur characters ice cream truck ice cream / gas station / liquor store freezer ice cream of choice and why.

[prevsapphism]

Reblog this and put it in the tags gals and pals

[godbloodednope]

everyone’s writing choices are different because creativity is a varied exercise and if you’re gross enough to give a negative, unwarranted opinion you should probably remember no one in the world ever ever ever is even in a place of completely informed correction.

[godbloodednope]

bios written in second person are cringe

i comprehend your opinion but also choose to acknowledge that it’s definitely wrong because a) bios in second person feel like reading a choose your own adventure and b) have you ever tried second person because it’s hella fun.

[godbloodednope]

DELANIE:

aw. that makes her smile softly, gaze flickering to the finger and then back up to her face. “thank you very much.”

“yuh silly pup,” it is not patronizing, nor is it anything but fond, “ya welcome. ‘ough i think y’knew ‘at all-ready.”

[godbloodednope]

DELANIE:

“doesn’t hurt to be reminded every now and then, right?” delanie says with a light cant of her head. “always good for the ego.” 

she’s reaching up to tap a cheek with a gloved fingertip, sharp teeth pleasantly hidden behind her lips, voice a casual purr, “yuh cute.”