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@unholyrites
𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 / a private, minimalistic and highly selective multimuse blog inspired by everything paranormal, supernatural, mythical ⅋ mystical. various canon muses drawn from tales, mythologies, film, comics, crime ⅋ horrors stories. iconless. gif enthusiast. mutuals only. i won't follow back anyone who has not read my rules. no exception. heavily plot driven. for writers twenty-one+ only. personal blogs do not interact. / rules. myth. media. comics. prompts. blogs.
a fandomless & multi-verse based interpretation of the first woman to ever exist. wraught by divine hands ⅋ handcrafted by god himself. 𝕷𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖍 the mother of demons. caught between the remnant relics of eden and the desolation of exile. based on jewish folklore. decipting her as chaotic neutral. as written by NEHA.
am i the daugher daughter you wanted?
CEMRE BAYSEL Baht Oyunu (ep 1)
.... why is my q empty again, I did not manage to fill up any of my other blogs 😩
@unholyrites Liked for a starter (for Hecate?)
Kumari sits behind the counter of her parents’ junk shop – well, it’s not really a junk shop per say, though some of the items scattered in the claustrophobic long hallway making said shop should be considered as such. Items from three dozen hanging crystal suncatchers hanging from the ceiling, to analog televisions from the 70’s and, even spank boards with encouraging messages engraved in the wood. Every bric-a-brac from a past that is no more rests upon these ‘sacred’ shelves. Her mother prefers calling these 'antiques'.
The small television by the counter emits an Indian soap opera only Kumari’s mother would be fond of. Above that television is another screen, flickering a view of the end of the shop.
The sudden clink of bells from the front door has her jump out of her boredom and reverie. A woman, beautiful, has entered the otherwise deserted but cramped place – there are days when not even one person waltz in... It’s always surprising to Kumari when someone decides to visit. “Hello, welcome. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.”
her eyes rolled towards the ringing sounds above her and then slowly, almost dreadfully slow, back to whoever it was that would dare to disturb her entrance with such a pharce of human invention ⸻ bells. for a moment, she said nothing. her gaze moved slowly through the narrow shop, over the hanging crystals catching tired light, the old televisions, the shelves crowded with things people had thrown away only after forgetting what they were. it was not junk. not really. humans called things useless the moment they stopped understanding them. terribly convenient habit ⸻ only then did her eyes settle on kumari.
« questions? » she repeated, and her mouth curved slightly, it was rare to see the witch of the crossroads amused. she stepped further inside, careful without seeming careful, one hand brushing near a shelf without touching anything. the whole place felt cramped, but still somewhat ⸻ empty. too many old stories pressed together in one hallway, all of them pretending to be objects. « i imagine this place has far more answers than it should. »
her gaze flicked briefly to the small television, for a moment she got distracted, her head falling to the side staring athe screen above it. « do your know everything you have collected here? » a wide grind appeared on her face. smug. bold. proud. her focus still upon the screen as suddenly the amusement faded. her heard slowly turned toward the back of the shop, as if someone just had called her name from back there. then she smiled. slowly ⸻ wickedly.
« there you are. » it was spoken too softly to be meant for kumari, and yet hecate did not bother hiding the delight in it. whatever sat buried in this place had not been sleeping as peacefully as the little shop would have liked to believe. hecate reached toward one of the shelves, her fingers hover close enough for the objects nearby ⸻ to tremble.
her gaze slid back to kumari then, bright and knowing, almost kind in the way a knife could be kind if it cut quickly enough. « i would ask whether you know what it is, but that would ruin the charm of this little disaster. » only then did her fingers brush against a small object half-hidden behind the clutter. « it's owner is not happy that it was stolen from them. » ⸻ something cracked. « they are very angry and want it bad at all cost.i know because i was the one who stole it first. » hecate’s smile widened by a fraction. « you are in a little bit of trouble because . » her voice was soft, pleased, terrible. « because now they know where you are. »
for one breath, she simply stood there, listening to whatever had shifted awake beneath the skin of the world. then her grin split wider, all ancient delight and very little guilt. she clapped her hands once, bright as a child promised mischief. « oh, how lucky you are that i found you first. »
𖤝 … @unholyrites ( piper ).
⸻ The sensual scent of incense fills the apothecary, an inherent calm from the plumes of smoke that inspires one to breathe in lavender and exhale stress. Yet, the woman who operates the business is far from at ease.
Enora just barely recognizes the soft chime of a bell, placed to ring lightly when the door opens and alert her or Benji of visitors. She doesn't bother to lift her head from her hands, pads of her fingers pressed deep into throbbing temples. Unsurprisingly, her headache is not assuaged.
❛ I'm afraid you've encountered me at an unpleasant time. ❜ But, the entrance is unlocked and business is still business. ❛ Is it important? ❜
all she wanted was coffee ⸻ a quiet day and coffee. but here she was. the charmed one paused just inside the door, one hand still resting near the frame as the bell finished its soft little complaint above her head. the place smelled like lavender, smoke ⸻ and one very expensive attempt at pretending nothing was wrong. unfortunately for enora, piper had spent far too many years walking into rooms where nothing was wrong right before something exploded, most of the time she was the one exploding things. self-defence.
her eyes moved over the shop first, then settled on the woman behind the counter, head in her hands like the incense had personally failed her.
« depends on your definition of important. » piper stepped further inside, her voice dry, not hostile or such, just void of an idea weither she was up for this adventure or nott. « if you mean life-or-death important, i am really hoping no because i had plans today that involved coffee ⸻ and absolutely no screaming. »
but as she glanced at the smoke curling through the air, it felt as if all joy had suddenly left her body. then, back at enora with a slight frown, she knew where this would end, and she probably wouldn't like it. « but if you mean magical-headache ⸻ bad-feeling, something-is-wrong-and-everyone-is-pretending-it-is-fine important… » her mouth tightened a little. « then, unfortunately, i think we might be there. »
#big bad witcher ready to risk it all for love
@unholyrites
@angcltouched ( lucifer ) asked for MICHAEL Where have you been? I'm beginning to wonder
michael opened the door to his own home and stepped inside. or, more accurately, he opened it at the exact moment lucifer had decided to stand far too close, which resulted in the wood catching him squarely enough to cut whatever dramatic thought he had been about to finish in half. michael paused with one hand still on the handle, eyes dropping to his brother with the same unreadable calm he wore in battle, in judgement, and apparently now in door-related violence.
lucifer, naturally, reacted as if he had been betrayed by creation itself. michael only looked at him for a moment, giving away very little. « wondering is a dangerous habit ⸻ for you. » his voice was calm, almost painfully so, as he stepped fully inside and closed the door behind him with far more care than lucifer probably deserved. « perhaps next time, do not stand directly in front of my door. »
his gaze moved over lucifer once, taking in the offence, the theatrics, whatever expression his brother had chosen to wear as evidence of his terrible suffering. michael did not smile. « i was where i was needed. » a simple answer, but whenever lucifer lurked in the dark waiting for him like that, he always wanted something. michael would say no, lucifer would do it anyway ⸻ and somehow michael would end up dragging him out of trouble by the collar. he shut his eyes for a brief moment, already tired of whatever came next. « and before you start, no. the door did not attack you. just spit it out, lucifer. what is it this time? ⸻ and the answer is no. »
cemre baysel guller ve gunahlar — bolum 003
@mikaels0n-elijah ( elijah ) asked for KOL we survived that house, that's gotta count for something.
one original looked at the other ⸻ too long to not to know weither to laugh or to be honest, and for once the smirk did not arrive quickly enough to save him. that was the problem with elijah, really. he could say something like that in that calm, grave voice of his and make it sound reasonable to the untrained ear. but kol had hundreds of years to be trained. to see how his brother was almost noble ⸻ almost, not fully like everyone else thought of him. as if survival had been some grand victory they had earned together, instead of something beaten into them until it became instinct. kol’s mouth twitched, but it was not quite amusement. more like a bad habit trying to crawl back onto his face before anyone saw too much.
« does it? » his voice came light, careless, horribly familiar. the kind of tone he used when he wanted someone to think the wound had missed but it had not, but that wound was placed hundreds of years ago already.
« funny ⸻ i always thought surviving that house was the bare minimum. father made certain of that, didn’t he? survive the house, survive the beatings, survive mother looking away, survive being cursed for eternity, survive niklaus learning how to become him in all the ways he swore he never would. » he could not hold back a frustrated laughter, his eyes flicked back to elijah then, sharper for the hurt he refused to give a proper shape.
« and you. » the smile finally came, thin and cruel at the edges. « you survived by becoming useful. noble elijah, always standing straight, always smoothing the blood off the floor before anyone important saw the mess. » kol let out a quiet laugh, cold, distant ⸻ unwilling to compromise.
« me? i survived by becoming unbearable. rather clever, when you think about it. no one mourns properly for the wicked little brother. they just lock him in a box and call it peace. » the anger loosened, but that was not everything and what sat beneath it was uglier ⸻ gone again almost as soon as it showed. « so yes, brother, we survived that house. » his gaze held elijah’s now, bright with something too bitter to be called pride. « but do not pretend like we are one big happy family again. i have one family, davina. not whatever this group here is. »
@mikaels0n-elijah ( elijah ) asked for FINN Yesterday you didn't believe me. What changed?
finn looked at him for a moment, and for once there was no quick answer ready on his tongue. yesterday. as if yesterday had been simple. as if disbelief had been cruelty and not the only thing standing between him and something he had not wanted to accept. ⸻ his mouth tightened, gaze lowering for only a second before it found his again, steadier this time, though also harder, as if the story he wanted to tell forced him to shut off. « i saw enough. »
it was not an apology. not even close to one. finn had never been good at giving those without making them sound like a confession first. still, something in his face shifted, the anger losing its edge and leaving only the tired thing beneath it. « yesterday, i thought you were mistaken. or lying. perhaps i only wanted you to be. » his voice stayed quiet, but there was no comfort in it. « today ⸻ today, i simply no longer have that luxury. »
the admission sat poorly with him, it showed in the stiffness of his shoulders, in the way his fingers curled once at his side before he forced them still again. finn had spent too many lifetimes being certain of suffering, certain of sin, certain that if something looked cruel, then cruelty had to be the truth of it. certainty was easier than doubt ⸻ it allowed him to stand apart from the mess of his family and call it judgement, allowed him to pretend he was not made of the same blood, the same ruin, the same awful need to believe his own version of things.
but looking at elijah now, with the truth no longer willing to stay where he had left it, he found no comfort in being right or wrong. the bitter knowledge that he had chosen disbelief because it had asked less of him, because it was what his morals, which he held so proudly, dictated him. « you may take whatever satisfaction you wish from that ⸻ if that helps you sleep better at night. »
@crestfallens ( lahja ) asked for ARTEMIS ❛ why would a god take orders from anyone at all? ❜
artemis looked at her for a moment, there was no offence in her face, quiet amusment was the better way to describe it. she remained still ⸻ that stillness only wild things had when they heard something move in the dark and had not yet decided if it deserved teeth or silence. « because power is not the same thing as freedom; humans or those who once were, seem to find that hard to understand i know. »
her fingers rested against the curve of her bow as she chose her words wisley, her hand fit so perfectly around her bow, like it had always belonged there, like her hand had simply been made with the absence of it in mind.
« gods obey plenty of things ⸻ blood. pride. old promises. grief. love, some even become foolish enough to let it become their leash. » her gaze stayed on lahja, sharp beneath all that calm. « some call it orders because it makes them feel less afraid of what truly rules them. » her eyes did not move from her.
« i do not take orders from men however ⸻ especially kings. or male gods who make too much noise thinking it gives them authority. » her mouth barely moved, though something in it came close to a smile, softening her features further. « but i know the difference between being commanded and choosing where my arrow lands. i am not stupid enough to think i know everything. i with pleasure will leave that job to athena. »
. @unholyrites mantis asked for hades : i don't wanna feel empty anymore.
her touch was the only thing that had ever reached him there, in that cold and ureachable place. mantis pressed against him and the warmth of her body move through him like a tide, slow, and he felt the rigidity in his chest give way the way ice gives way in spring. his palms found the sheets and gripped them. when he opened his eyes again and found hers, that familiar hunger was already there, the one that only she had ever drawn out of him, the need to be the one who knew her, the one who filled every hollow place in her until there was no room left for absence.
the world was finally quiet again. when her skin touched his and his warmth engulfed her all over again, when his scent calmed her senses and his touch grounded her. it had taken them so much to get here. the world had been too cruel to them, and it seemed only far away from earth, far away from everything that had once ruined them, were they able to be happy ⸻ together.
the past behind them, a past that had made moments like this almost impossible. but it was just that now ⸻ the past. his touch no longer scared her. his kisses no longer frightened her. warm skin against hers no longer felt like poison. at least his did not. he was too much, too broad above her, too heavy, too warm, his body dwarfing hers until she felt almost swallowed whole. once, being pinned beneath someone so much stronger would have made her go cold. but this was hades. and beneath him, trapped by him, surrounded by him, she did not feel hunted ⸻ she felt held.
"if you frown any deeper, you will be stuck that way forever." hestia's chasitzing came with something sweet to ease the blow. she placed a platter on the table with fruits, drizzled with nectar to turn something delicious into something decadent. satisfied with her treat, hestia sat in the seat opposite her brother. "speak now, zeus, and speak honestly. what troubles you?"
@unholyrites
zeus looked at the fruit first, then at her, the frown still very much there despite her best efforts. « i am not frowning. » he was. terribly so. and the fact that he reached for one of the fruits like that would somehow prove his point did not help him much either. for a moment, he simply turned it between his fingers, quiet in a way zeus rarely allowed himself to be, at least not where anyone could see it. hestia had always seen too much. that was the problem with her. she did not demand truth the way others did. she simply sat there, placed something sweet in front of him, and made lying feel somewhat impossible, and he was pretty sure he was supposed to hate that, but he did not. no, he appreciated it even. almost at least.
his jaw worked once before he finally looked away, eyes rolling toward the heavens, not only in annoyance, but with some unwilling little piece of capitulation too. « olympus is loud. » which was not an answer, not really, but it was more honest than pretending nothing was wrong. « everyone wants something. everyone is offended. everyone believes they would do better than me. people planning uprisings, people preparing for war. we are on the brink of it, hestia. and uprising is coming. war is inevitable. »
words which should have carried some kind of warning, some heaviness even, but he said them as if he had just told her the weather forecast for the next week. and he was not imporessed by said weather. another storm. a little thunder. possible bloodshed by evening. « so really, everything is the same as usual, and it bores me. »
he could see it in her eyes, how badly she wanted to hurt him, to destroy him. and yet, strangely, hades felt no anger toward her for it. no resentment. if anything, it awakened something far more dangerous inside him. something darkly possessive. the need to break her further, to pull apart every wall she still tried so desperately to hide behind. now she stood above him, her hand tightly wrapped around the blade lodged deep within his chest, twisting it just enough to wound. enough to make another man cry out. but hades did not.
pain had long ago become meaningless to him. what he fet instead was tension. a stange, intoxicating tension that coiled tighter each time she looked at him with hatred burning in her gaze. and he wanted her to consume it. wanted her to lose herself in it. his hand slowly released her wrist, allowing her to continue. ❝ i was not the one offered as sacrifice, ❞ he said calmly, his voice steady despite the blade buried inside him. ❝ an offering cannot simply be refused. ❞
his gaze lowered briefly, noticing the unconscious movement of her hips against him. she either did not realize what she was doing, or she did. and hated herself for it. a grin slowly pulled at the corner of his lips when he felt the warmth of her thights pressed firmly against him. that warmth brushed against his cold body like flame against winter stone, and something inside him answered it instantly. persephone was awakening something buried deep within him, something anciet and starving. and neither of them seemed capable of stopping it anymore.
❝ i have not turned you into anything, ❞ he continued, his crimson eyes lifting back to hers. ❝ everything you are was already inside you. ❞ the words struck harder than any blade. he would never allow her to play the innocent victim before him. not anymore. no matter the circumstances. no matter if he had dragged her into darkness and chained her to the underworld itself. the darkness answered her because part of her already belonged to it. ❝ one only surrenders to what already exists within them. ❞
he knew this better than anyone. darkness had lived inside him long before he had understood its name. ❝ you blame me because you cannot bear to admit the truth to yourself. ❞ his voice lowered further, almost taunting now. ❝ but look at you. ❞ his hands moved suddenly to her waist, gripping her firmly as he held her in place above him. his fingers tightened slightly when he felt the heat radiating from her body, felt the tension she tried so hard to deny. ❝ you want it to consume you. ❞ the words came like temptation itself. ❝ your body aches for it, and still you pretend otherwise. ❞
in one swift movement, he shifted them both, pressing her back against the dark sheets beneath him. his body caged hers effortlessly, his legs trapping her before she could move away. the air between them felt unbearably heavy now, thick with anger, resentment, and something far more dangerous neither of them wished to name. ❝ why not taste what darkness truly offers you ? ❞ the whisper brushed against her ear like smoke.
one of his hands moved to the blade still lodged in his chest, pulling it free without so much as a flinch before tossing it carelessly aside. blood stained his skin, yet his attention never once left her. daring, mocking, amused even. ❝ do not blame me for your desires, persephone. ❞
the moment her back hit the sheets, something inside her snapped. not because he had overpowered her. not because his body caged hers so easily, cold and heavy above her, as if the underworld itself had decided to take a shape and press her into the dark. fear would have been easier. fear would have made sense. fear was clean. but this was not fear. it was rage, burning so violently through her chest that for one breath she thought she might split open beneath it. his hands at her waist, his blood still staining the space between them, his voice in her ear like smoke, like temptation ⸻ like another chain.
her breath came hard, uneven, violet flickering beneath the red still poisoning her gaze. she could feel it. gods, she could feel every bit of it. the hatred, the heat, the darkness trying to curl itself around the softest parts of her and squeeze until nothing bloomed there anymore. and that was what terrified her most. not him. not his strength. not the blade tossed aside as if her attempt at freedom had been nothing more than a child’s tantrum. it was the part of her that had wanted to sink the dagger deeper. the part of her that had wanted him gone so badly it had forgotten, for one horrible second, what her hands were meant to bring into the world. life. warmth. spring. not this.
persephone stared up at him, lips parted, breath trembling, but she did not look away. even pinned beneath him, even with his body trapping hers against the dark sheets, forcing her thighs apart, welcoming himself in between them, but she did not shrink. if anything, the hatred made her braver. made her chin lift. made a warmth she had not known until know creep up within her core. made her eyes burn brighter through the corruption ⸻ still staining them red at the edges. her hair had spilled around her, amber tangled across the pillows, across his arm, across the blood smeared between them. she looked ruined and divine all at once, ⸻ spring dragged into death’s bed and still somehow blooming there out of spite.
« don’t. » her voice came low, breathless, but not weak. never weak. « don’t you dare make this sound like something i chose because it was already waiting inside me. you turned me into this ⸻ you and your darkness. »
her hands moved between them, not to push him away this time, not yet, but to press against his chest where the wound had already begun to mean nothing. her palms met cold skin, blood slick beneath her fingers, and still she held him there with all the fury her body could not contain. « you do not get to lock me in darkness for years and then act surprised when something in me starts to rot. » her voice shook harder now, but it was anger that did it, not fear. « you left me in the dark long enough for something to go wrong, hades. that does not make it my nature. that is your nature. not mine. »
the fates whispered still, faint and delighted at the edges of her mind, urging her toward cruelty, toward surrender, toward the easy shape of hatred. and gods, hatred was easy. hatred was warm. hatred filled the places where sunlight used to live and made her feel less hollow ⸻ for a moment. but beneath it, something softer still clawed for air. something green. something golden. her fingers curled against his chest, nails biting into pale skin, and the movement brought her closer rather than away. she hated that too. no she hated the way she did not hate it. it made her feel warmth in places she should not. she hated the way her heart hammered as if it did not understand the difference between danger and desire. « all you had to do was let me go. » the words slipped out quieter, almost too soft for the violence between them, and that softness made them worse. « that is all. one merciful thing. one decent thing. »
then her eyes hardened again, the red flaring violently through violet. « but you could not, could you? » her hand slid higher blood streaking beneath her touch, and she smiled then. nothing spring-like in the shape of it, except perhaps the promise that even beautiful things could poison. « because you are selfish. » her voice dropped into something sharper, something intimate enough to cut.
she shifted beneath him, not trying to escape his hold, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing her struggle blindly against it. instead, her thighs tightened around him with unconscious defiance, her body arching just enough to make the space between them even more dangerous. her breath caught at the contact, but she turned the sound into a laugh, bitter ⸻ and beautiful. « how desperate you must be to mistake survival for desire. » but the lie tasted sharp in her mouth, because it was not only survival. and the knowledge of that made her angrier still, made the light inside her flare so violently it almost hurt. flowers had thorns. spring had storms. life itself tore the earth open before it bloomed, and perhaps he had forgotten that. perhaps everyone had. perhaps they had all looked at softness and thought of it as harmless.
« i hate you. » this time, the words did not break. they burned clean. « i hate you so deeply it scares me. i hate that i think of your death and something inside me answers yes before i can stop it. i hate that they found that part of me because of you. because you made my world smaller and smaller until ⸻ the only thing left to reach for was a blade. »
« but that hatred is not proof that i am like you. it is proof that you have taken too much. » her breathing trembled again, but her gaze did not. the violet was still there beneath the red, flickering, wounded, fighting. « spring needs light, hades. not cages. not punishment ⸻ not you. » the softness in her did not disappear when she said it. her face lifted closer to his, close enough that her breath brushed his mouth, close enough that the hatred between them felt like another body in the bed. « and if you think you can break me, » she whispered, voice soft enough to be mistaken for tenderness by someone foolish, « then you are even more foolish than i already thought you were. king of the dead you are, but you do not have the power to ruin me. »
kali and parvati do need their sister Durga on here, don't you think? durga is mainly the goddess of strength, war, justice, protection and divine feminine power. and like 👀
