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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.
THE WITCH
2015, dir. Robert Eggers
@angcltouched
the moment mantis pushed his hands away and told him not to touch her, it felt as though something inside him had finally shattered. not suddenly, not violently. the break had begun long ago. perhaps the first crack had appeared the first time she refused one of his visists. perhaps it had been there every time she smiled a little less when he returned. every time her gaze lingered on him with questions she never voiced aloud. hades had felt the distance growing between them, had noticed it in fragments, but he had never understood what he was truly watching like so many tragedies, it had happened slowly enough to go unnoticed until there was nothing left to save.
now, standing before her, he finally understood. and he wished he did not. for a moment he simply stared at her, unable to move. the pain in her voice lingered inside him like a blade driven between old scars, reopening wounds he had spent centuries convincing himself no longer existed. it reminded him of things he preferred not to remember. the darkness that had once threatened to consume him. the cruelty of his father, the endless loneliness that had followed him long before he became king. yet somehow this hurt more.
because this was mantis, and mantis had always reached for him when nobody else would. his gaze lowered briefly, unable to withstand the sight of her tears for long. the realization settled heavily inside his chest as memories began rearranging themselves into something he could finally understand. the distance, the hesitation. the way she seemed to disappear further away each time he returned from the underworld. while persephone had become more familiar, more present, more difficult to ignore.
the truth had been there all along, mantis had simply seen it before he had. persephone had entered his life quietly, slipping between the cracks of his kingdom like spring sunlight forcing its way through stone. at first he had welcomed it without thought. the scent of lilacs lingering where only death should exist. warmth settling into halls that had known only silence. small moments of peace appearing within a realm built from grief. hades had allowed those things because they soothed parts of him he had long since stopped trying to heal.
and perhaps that was where everything began, not with love or desire. but with relief. the terrible relief of discovering that the noise inside his mind could become quieter. that the weight of eternity could become lighter, that for a few fleeting moments he could forget he was the ruler of the dead. yet none of it had been enough to make him stop loving mantis, that was the cruel part. even now, with persephone lingering somewhere inside his thoughts, with guilt twisting around his ribs so tightly it became difficult to breathe, the woman standing before him was still the person he loved most. the person whose laughter had once made the underworld seem less empty, the one he had chosen again and again despite every obstacle zeus had placed between them.
and somehow that only made all of this worse. ❝ mantis. ❞ her name left his lips unevenly, breaking apart before he could stop it. there was no authority left in his voice. no trace of the king who commanded souls and shadows. only a man watching the person he loved look at him as though he had become a stranger. ❝ i never meant for this to happen. ❞ the words sounded hollow even to him. because intentions no longer mattered. pain did not disappear simply because it had not been deliberate.
hades took a step toward her instinctively, driven by the same need that had always existed whenever she was hurting. he wanted to hold her. to wipe away her tears. to tell her that none of this changed what she meant to him. but the moment his foot touched the ground, he remembered the way she had recoiled from his touch, so he stopped. then stepped back instead, the movement felt unnatural, agonizing. as though he were forcing himself to walk away from the only warmth he had ever truly known.
his crimson gaze found hers again, and whatever strenght remained inside him nearly failed. because he recognized the look in her eyes, not anger or jealousy, heartbreak. the kind that arrived long before a relationship ended. the kind that formed quietly while watching someone drift away one piece at a time. she had been grieving him while he was still standing beside her. pain flickered openly across his features now, too deep to conceal beneath pride or composure. for once, he did not attempt to hide it. ❝ you are not bad, you never were. ❞
his voice softened further as he spoke, weighed down by a sorrow so old it seemed woven into his soul. ❝ you were never lacking. never dificult to love. never something that needed fixing. ❞ a bitter ache settled in his chest as he looked at her. because somewhere along the way she had begun comparing herself to a woman she could never become. a woman zeus had deliberately placed in his path. a woman born from a world mantis was never allowed to enter. and none of that had been fair.
❝ do you want me gone ? ❞ it was not fear of rejection that frightened him, it was the possibility that she would say yes and mean it. that she would finally decide she could no longer survive loving him. his hands remained motionless at his sides, empty and harmless. ❝ i will not touch you, i will not force you to stay. i will not ask you to forgive me. ❞ for a long moment, silence settled between them.
when he finally spoke again, his voice carried the exhaustion of a man who had spent centuries fighting fate only to discover that some battles were unwinnable. ❝ but if every time you look at me, you see her ... ❞ his throat tightened around the words. ❝ then perhaps i have already hurt you in ways i do not know how to repair. ❞ for the firt time in a very long time, hades looked less like a god and more like a man standing in the ruins of something precious, realizing far too late that love alone had not been enough to protect it.
mantis did not answer right away. she had heard him, every word, every careful little piece of sorrow he had placed between them as if speaking too loudly might make her break worse. but she only stood there with her back pressed against the wall, shoulders drawn up too high, hands curled against her chest as though she was trying to hold something inside herself together. her antennae trembled, still pulled low, still frightened, and when he asked if she wanted him gone, her eyes lifted to his with such immediate confusion it almost looked like pain all over again.
« gone? » she repeated, very softly, like the word did not fit inside her mouth. « no. no, i do not want you gone. please, i will behave. i will be good, i promise. » the panic came back quickly then, not sharp like before, but desperate, wounded, clumsy. she shook her head once, then again, too fast, her breath catching in little broken pieces. « why would you go? i did not say go. i said do not touch me. that is different. it is different, hades. » her hands pressed tighter against her chest, fingers digging into the fabric there as if she could push the ache back down by force. « i want you here. i want you to stay here. i just... i want it to stop hurting when you are here. »
because she did not understand what else to call it. hades had taught her many things about this world, about gods and rules and the underworld and all the strange little ways people made themselves cruel when they were afraid, but he had never taught her what heartbreak was. perhaps he should have. perhaps, if he had given the pain a name before it found her, she would have known what was happening when her chest began to feel too small for her heart. perhaps she would have understood why loving him still felt the same, so big and warm and helpless inside her, while something else inside that love kept tearing. or perhaps it was kinder that she did not know. perhaps knowing would have made it worse. perhaps she should have been disappointed. angry. insulted. perhaps she should have understood that this was something people left over, something they screamed over, something they did not apologise for feeling.
but mantis did not know how to put those pieces together. she only knew that she loved him more than anything, and that loving him had started to hurt so badly she could not breathe through it. she only knew that when he looked at her, she wanted to go to him, and when he touched her, she wanted to crawl out of her own skin. she only knew there was something wrong inside her chest, something splitting and twisting and making her feel sick, and she had no word for it. how was she supposed to understand that her heart was being ripped apart when no one had ever told her a heart could break?
and that was the part she did not understand. that was the part that frightened her more than his hand around her wrist, more than persephone in his thoughts, more than the ugly sound of her own voice when she had screamed at him. hades had always been warm to her. not warm like fire, not warm like sunlight, but warm in that quiet, strange place beneath the ribs where feelings lived before they became words. when she touched him before, there had been softness. there had been happiness. sometimes sadness too, yes, and old things, dark things, but never this. never something that pushed into her lungs until she could not breathe. never something that made her skin feel too tight for her body. never something that sat in her chest like a stone and spread, and spread, and spread.
« i think something is wrong with me, i tried to see a doctor but he does not know how to treat me. i am not human. humans dont feel others feelings. but i am sure something is wrong. if petere were here, he would know. he would know what is wrong with me. but he is not here, he is gone. » she whispered, and her face crumpled around the thought of her brother, oh how she missed the guardias, but the thought about them was curel, did it bring only more pain to her already torn heart. she had been seeking help because she believed it. of course she believed it. if love hurt, then surely she had done something incorrectly. but the truth was, she was not made for this world. she was not from earth. she did not belong here. especially not in his realm. pain was not something her body was meant to endure. if his happiness made her feel like she was being split open, then maybe she was too small for it, too selfish, too broken in some place she could not see. « i think i am sick. that's it. i do not know where. here, maybe. » she touched the middle of her chest with shaking fingers, then pressed there harder when it did not help. « it gets tight. so tight. like someone is sitting inside me and there is no room. and then my throat closes, and my eyes hurt, and my stomach feels wrong, and i do not know what to do with all of it.»
she had left everything for him. not in the way people said it when they wanted to sound tragic, not as a pretty little wound to hold over someone’s head, but truly. her friends, her family, the only people who had ever known what she was without needing her to explain it, they could have been anywhere by now. somewhere across the galaxy, laughing, fighting, saving worlds, getting lost between stars without her. and mantis was here, on a planet that had never been kind to soft things, among humans and gods who hurt each other and called it fate, duty, love, punishment, prophecy, every name except cruelty. she had not been made for this place. she had not been made for sharp words, for jealous gods, for rooms where love turned into something that cut when touched. she had not been made to suffer pain like this, but she did. and if she left him, where would she go? back to what? to who? the life she had walked away from had not waited politely in one place for her to return.
her gaze flickered to his hands, then away again, terrified and ashamed of being terrified. « i used to like when you touched me. i liked it very much. » the admission came out smaller than the rest, soft and broken in a way that made the words feel almost embarrassed to exist. « it was quiet then. even when you were sad, even when you were angry, even when you carried all those heavy things, it was still you. i could find you inside it. i could sit there with you. but now when you touch me, it is not quiet anymore. it is loud. everything is loud. your hand is there, and then she is there, and then your guilt is there, and your wanting is there, and your sorry is there, and i cannot find where i am supposed to stand. »
she swallowed hard, but the tears still came, spilling over too quickly for her to wipe them away. « i tried to be good, » she said, and there it was again, that small horrible thing she had taught herself to believe. « i tried to behave. i tried not to make my face sad when you came back happy. i tried not to move away too fast. i tried not to feel angry because angry is bad, and i do not want to be bad to you. i do not want to put my hurt on you just because you have something bright in your head.» her voice shook, but it kept going, because now that the words had started, she did not know how to stop them. «but i do not like it. i do not like when it hurts. i do not like when my chest gets small. i do not like when i cannot breathe. i do not like feeling her when i am trying to feel you.»
for a moment, she looked down at herself like she expected to see the damage there, something visible, something bleeding, something he could fix because hades knew so many things and surely he would know what to do if she could only show him where it was. but there was nothing. only her own body trembling beneath her hands, only the horrible invisible ache that would not loosen. «is this what happens when people love wrong?» she asked, voice barely more than a whisper now. «does it start hurting because i am doing it wrong? because i do not know how to love someone if they are happy somewhere else. i do not know where to put that. i do not know how to be happy for you without it making me feel like i am disappearing. »
she took one small step towards him, then stopped herself at once, her whole body flinching at the want before it could become movement. because she did want him. gods, she wanted him, with that same simple, helpless devotion she had never known how to hide. but wanting him and touching him had become two different things now, and the realisation seemed to frighten her all over again. « i do not want you gone, » she said again, firmer this time, though her voice still shook apart around the edges. «i want you close. i want you here. i want you to look at me and not think about her. i want you to touch me and for it to be quiet again.» her lips trembled, and she pressed her hand over them for a second, as if she could stop herself from sounding so broken. «but please do not touch me if she is there. please. i cannot feel her through you anymore. it hurts too much. »
then, as if the thought had only just reached her properly, mantis shook her head again, faster this time, panic flickering back into her eyes. « but not gone,» she said quickly, almost stumbling over the words. « i do not want you gone. please do not think that. please do not go away because i am... like this. »
her hands pressed against her chest again, small fingers curling into the fabric, as if she could hold the broken part still until someone told her what it was. « i think i need a doctor, » she whispered, and the innocence of it made the words worse, because she meant it. because she truly thought there was some sickness inside her that could be named, touched, fixed. « or someone who knows why it hurts here. because it is my fault. i know it is my fault. you said i am not bad, but maybe i am not doing it right. maybe i am feeling it wrong. »
she swallowed, tears slipping down her cheeks as she looked at him like she was asking for something much smaller than his heart. like she was only asking him to wait outside a room until she came back better. « i will be good, » she promised, too quickly, too desperately. « i will be good again. i will learn. i will not yell, and i will not make my face sad, and i will not make you feel bad for being happy. just... just do not leave me yet. please. not forever. only do not touch me until i am healthy again. or until i learn how to do better. i will do better i promise. i will be good.... »
BATMAN BEGINS (2005) dir. Christopher Nolan.
prompts: yellowjackets - 3x01.
maybe it was one of us. come on.
get off me gaywad!
i'm just not gonna freak out.
they were doing weird cult shit in the woods.
i really think you need to talk to them.
don't shut me out.
fսck it. you want to just get a pizza and a quart of fudge ripple? we can eat it on the roof.
i literally just told you to go fuck yourself, and you're asking me out?
[name], have you been chronic smoking?
you knew.
i was just decoy, biyatch.
do be quick, every minute away from you is torture.
they worked for 12 days and nights to feed the very fire that destroyed their home.
you can't… you can't just doordash human entrails.
what the fuck, [name]?
i know he doesn't want to talk to me, but if you could just put him on for one second.
you know, it's okay to be angry about what happened to [name].
handy lesbians for the win.
i deeply appreciate it, my queen.
i know it's disgusting but i think we should start eating more of it.
loser says what?
are you asking me if i want to go or telling me i have to?
give it to me!
please, come stay in my room.
we call to [name]. now with the wilderness, guide us.
they've just returned to a place that waits for all of us.
after everything that's happened, you're worried about the dishes?
did you just say chronic?
the reality was that even if rescue came, they could never go home again.
i've scouted every inch of this place for miles.
how's this story for you? once upon a time, a bunch of teenage girls got stranded in the wilderness and they went completely fսcking nuts.
happy? that way, when i flatline, everyone will know they can go to lunch.
if you're up for it? i feel like we could both stand to get out of this house.
that's backwards, moron.
can't believe we didn't eat that bitch first.
my best friend is dead.
if i died tomorrow, what would people say at my funeral?
oh, what is even happening right now?
yeah, it's a miracle she survived… before, you know, we survived.
i deeply appreciate it, my queen.
have you seen anything while you're out there?
before we get started, congratulations to the winners of capture the bone, a name i still think we should consider workshopping further.
handy lesbians for the win.
like, sorry i'm not psyched to hear some bullshit story about our adventures in the woods.
fuck, just run.
i've fucking had it with this shit!
the fact that you even think i would is insulting.
i know someone smokes in here. who's got a lighter?
this is insane. we're not doing this anymore.
i just... wanted to teach them a lesson.
we know that they are because we can still hear them.
prompts: yellowjackets - 3x01.
maybe it was one of us. come on.
get off me gaywad!
i'm just not gonna freak out.
they were doing weird cult shit in the woods.
i really think you need to talk to them.
don't shut me out.
fսck it. you want to just get a pizza and a quart of fudge ripple? we can eat it on the roof.
i literally just told you to go fuck yourself, and you're asking me out?
[name], have you been chronic smoking?
you knew.
i was just decoy, biyatch.
do be quick, every minute away from you is torture.
they worked for 12 days and nights to feed the very fire that destroyed their home.
you can't… you can't just doordash human entrails.
what the fuck, [name]?
i know he doesn't want to talk to me, but if you could just put him on for one second.
you know, it's okay to be angry about what happened to [name].
handy lesbians for the win.
i deeply appreciate it, my queen.
i know it's disgusting but i think we should start eating more of it.
loser says what?
are you asking me if i want to go or telling me i have to?
give it to me!
please, come stay in my room.
we call to [name]. now with the wilderness, guide us.
they've just returned to a place that waits for all of us.
after everything that's happened, you're worried about the dishes?
did you just say chronic?
the reality was that even if rescue came, they could never go home again.
i've scouted every inch of this place for miles.
how's this story for you? once upon a time, a bunch of teenage girls got stranded in the wilderness and they went completely fսcking nuts.
happy? that way, when i flatline, everyone will know they can go to lunch.
if you're up for it? i feel like we could both stand to get out of this house.
that's backwards, moron.
can't believe we didn't eat that bitch first.
my best friend is dead.
if i died tomorrow, what would people say at my funeral?
oh, what is even happening right now?
yeah, it's a miracle she survived… before, you know, we survived.
i deeply appreciate it, my queen.
have you seen anything while you're out there?
before we get started, congratulations to the winners of capture the bone, a name i still think we should consider workshopping further.
handy lesbians for the win.
like, sorry i'm not psyched to hear some bullshit story about our adventures in the woods.
fuck, just run.
i've fucking had it with this shit!
the fact that you even think i would is insulting.
i know someone smokes in here. who's got a lighter?
this is insane. we're not doing this anymore.
i just... wanted to teach them a lesson.
we know that they are because we can still hear them.
MELISA ASLI PAMUK ERKEĞE GÜVEN OLMAZ (EGO) | 7. BÖLÜM
mantis had not been allowed back into the underworld. no one had explained it in a way that made sense to her, only that there were rules, doors, borders, things even gods could not simply bend without consequences, and so she had stayed where she was left, hands folded too tightly in front of her, antennae low, waiting because waiting was still better than leaving. zeus had planted persephone below in her place with all the patience of someone moving pieces across a board, and mantis did not know she was a pawn, not at first. she only knew hades started to come back different.
she did not ask him to stop. she did not even know if she was allowed to ask something like that. love, to mantis, had always been something she held with both hands very carefully, something fragile and breathing, and if he was happy then surely it would be wrong to stand in the way of it. selfish, maybe. ugly. possessive. she did not want to be any of those things, so she made herself smaller instead.
she stopped reaching for him first. stopped curling her fingers around his sleeve, stopped pressing her cheek against his arm, stopped climbing into his lap when the world felt too loud. because when she touched him, she felt it. the love he had once carried like a warm closed room between them had another face inside it now, another shape, another light. and when he lay with her, when his hands moved over her skin and his mouth found hers, when he devoured her as he used to, it happened too, he thought about her when he was inside her, and she tried, she really tried, to stay there with him, but that was also when she stopped sleeping with him. persephone still bloomed behind his thoughts, soft and bright and alive, and mantis had gone cold beneath him before he even realised. after that, she stopped letting him touch her at all.
he asked her what was wrong. more than once. and every time, mantis looked away, at the floor, at the wall, at her own hands twisting together until her fingers hurt, because saying it out loud felt like biting into something rotten. she avoided him until there was barely anything left of her in the room with him, until even his footsteps made her chest tighten, until she had trained herself to move before he could reach for her. but then he did. he caught her wrist when she turned away too quickly, not hard, not cruel, only familiar, only him trying to stop her from disappearing again, and it broke something in her so violently that for one second she could not breathe at all. his fingers closed around her skin and it was not only his hand. it was his longing, his guilt, his confusion, and under all of it her, always her, persephone pressing through the touch like a second body in the room. it crawled up mantis’ arm, under her skin, into her throat.
it made her stomach turn. it made her want to claw at the place he held until she could get the feeling out. she yanked once, then harder, but when his grip did not fall away fast enough, panic turned sharp, hot, furious, something she had swallowed for too long finally coming up with teeth. « let go of me! » she screamed, the sound too loud, too raw, not small at all, not sweet, not good, her whole body twisting away from him as if he had burned her. « do not touch me! »
« i feel her! » mantis screamed, and even she looked startled by the sound of it, but it was already out, and then everything else came after, too fast, too hurt, too long held inside her little chest. « i feel her when you smile and you think i do not see it. i feel her when you say nothing. i feel her when you come back and your hands are here, but your head is still there. i do not want to feel her. i do not want her on my skin. » she rubbed at her wrist, hard, too hard, like she could scrape the touch away, like the feeling had crawled beneath it and stayed there. « you put her on me when you touch me. you do not mean to. i know you do not mean to, but you do. and it is loud, and it is warm, and it is not mine, and i do not want it. i do not want it, hades. i do not want to feel the way you love her when you are holding me. »
she shook her head, eyes wide and wet, anger and panic tangling so badly that she could barely breathe through it. « i tried to be good. i tried to not say it because you are happy when she is there, and i thought maybe i am being bad, maybe i am being selfish, but it hurts. it hurts in my skin. it hurts in my chest. and when you hold me, i can feel that you are not only holding me.» her voice cracked smaller on the last words, but the panic still had claws in her, still made her pull back when he was too close. « please do not put her on me anymore. please. »
for one terrible moment she looked almost afraid of him, or afraid of herself, hands pressed tight against the place his fingers had been as if she could rub the feeling out, as if she could peel the thought of persephone out from beneath her skin. then her face changed, horror rushing in immediately after the anger, wide-eyed and wet and so terribly mantis it hurt, because she had yelled, because he had only touched her, because she had made something bad out of something he used to give her gently. « i did not mean to be bad, » she whispered, shaking her head too quickly, already backing away even though there was nowhere to go, hands and antennas trembling, mantis never yelled. mantis never was angry. mantis never told someone off. this was not mantis, but maybe this is the mantis she needed to be. yet tears streamed down her face as she tried to walk further backwards, despite there not being any more room to flee. « i am sorry, i am sorry, i did not mean to be bad. i am sorry. i won't be bad again, just please don't touch me. » @angcltouched
raphael had always liked churches. not because they were perfect. they rarely were. mortals brought too much into them for that. grief, guilt, fear, hope held so tightly it almost hurt to look at. but there was something honest in that, something small and stubborn and reaching, even when the world had given them every reason to stop. raphael had always understood places built for wounded things to kneel in.
this one was bleeding. rain slipped through the broken roof, touching ruined pews, shattered glass, old stone, the dark red smear dragged too close to the altar. a candle still burned near the steps, weak but refusing to die, and raphael’s gaze lingered on it before shifting to the man standing in the wreckage with a weapon already raised.
van helsing. his long lost brother.
« it is really brave of you to walk up to a stranger, drawing your weapon like this. you have not changed much. still as brave, still as stupid. i always won fights against you, even as kids. unless i let you win, of course. »
raphael stopped where he was, one hand lifting slowly, palm open, his eyes already catching on the blood near the hunter’s temple, the stiff set of his shoulders, the exhaustion he carried like it had been given to him along with the coat and blades. « however, i must say, i would rather you did not shoot me. i would hate to ruin this touching reunion by proving, once again, that i was always better at fighting than you. it would be terribly unfair of you to make me win our first fight in centuries. » his voice stayed calm but humourful, though something in his chest had gone tight in a way he would not name here. « i am not here to hurt you. » a pause, small enough that van helsing might miss it. raphael did not. « i think enough has been done to you already. »
. @vanhvlsing ♡'ed !
michael had never liked churches either. not because they annoyed him the way they annoyed lucifer. lucifer could find a personal insult in a candle if left unsupervised long enough. michael disliked them because mortals filled them with prayers and thought that meant heaven was listening. sometimes it was. sometimes it was only silence wearing a kinder face.
this one was half ruined, rain cutting through the broken roof, silver and blood scattered across the stone like someone had tried to make a battlefield look holy. michael stepped through it without looking down, his wings hidden, his expression unreadable, the weight of heaven sitting on his shoulders like armour he had forgotten how to remove.
the man he had been looking for, stood near the altar, weapon already in hand. gabriel stood near the altar, though he did not know it. michael’s jaw tightened.
« lower the weapon. »
the command came without heat, yet demanding, he was the commander of god's armies after all. his eyes moved over the hunter’s face, searching for the brother beneath the mortal ruin, the brother heaven had emptied and sharpened into a blade. « i did not come here to fight you . » a pause was added, rather small. rather unwilling. so unusual for the always posed and stoic archangel. « but i will, if you make me, gabriel. »
@vanhvlsing ♡'ed !
lucifer had always hated churches. not because they burned. that would have been easier, and frankly far more dramatic. he could appreciate a good bit of theatre when heaven bothered to commit to it. no, churches had never burned him. they only annoyed him. all that cold stone and incense, all those painted saints staring down with wet, tragic eyes as if suffering had somehow become more holy when framed in gold. mortals loved that. they loved pain once it was pretty enough to kneel beneath.
this one was worse than most. half the roof had given in, moonlight spilling through the broken beams and catching on dust, old blood, silver, the black wet shine of rain dragged in from outside. somewhere near the altar, a candle still tried to live, flame bent sideways every time the wind pushed through the ruined windows. stubborn little thing. lucifer watched it for a moment with something close to amusement before his gaze shifted to the man standing between the pews.
van helsing.
that was what they called him now. a hunter with holy weapons, a ruined coat, and no idea what had been cut out of him to make all that obedience fit. lucifer knew him before the man even turned fully. knew the shape of him beneath the mud and blood, beneath the mortal exhaustion, beneath that ridiculous hat heaven apparently considered practical. his brother, wearing a stranger’s life like it had always belonged to him.
lucifer smiled, but it pulled wrong at the edge. « well, » he said, stepping over a broken piece of stone. « this is depressing. even for you. » he lifted both hands when the weapon shifted in van helsing’s grip, though the gesture was ruined by the amusement in his eyes. « careful. i am not here to fight you. not yet, anyway. i prefer at least three insults before violence. it gives the evening structure. » his gaze moved over him again, slower this time, catching on the blood, the tension in his shoulders, the blank suspicion where recognition should have been. lucifer hated heaven for many things. creatively. loudly. often for sport. but this, this sat somewhere nastier in him. « tell me, hunter, » he said, voice lighter than his eyes, « do you always point weapons at people you do not remember, or am i special? »
@vanhvlsing ♡'ed !
THE ORIGINALS S03E17 - Behind The Black Horizon
@angcltouched ( lucifer ) asked for RAPHAEL ❛ hand. hold out a hand for my muse to take.
raphael stared at lucifer’s hand. of course he did. there was no dramatic reason for it, no holy silence falling over them, no great revelation tucked neatly between his brother’s fingers. it was simply there, held out to him as if lucifer had not made an art of pretending he needed no one, as if the gesture itself was not strange enough to make raphael pause with one brow lifting before he could stop it. « your hand, » he said after a second, looking at it like it had personally offended him. « astonishing. i was beginning to think you did not know what those were for unless they were holding stolen wine, forbidden fruit, or someone else’s patience by the throat. »
« careful. one might consider you are being nice. thousands of years of doing so much hard pr, would be for nothing. » dry humour, not touched by a humoures tone but that was never raphaels way, when he was joking, it always was not certain when that was. his gaze moved up then, finally reaching lucifer’s face, and there it was. the smugness. obviously. gods forbid lucifer ever did anything vulnerable without dressing it up like he had planned the entire room’s reaction three days in advance. raphael almost sighed. no, he did sigh, because someone in this family had to be honest with their exhaustion and it clearly would not be the one standing there with blood near his knuckles and mischief in his eyes like both were accessories.
« you are bleeding. »
it was not much. barely anything, really. which somehow made it worse, because lucifer would absolutely ignore it for that exact reason. raphael reached for him before his brother could make some awful comment about how observant he was, fingers closing around lucifer’s hand with steady warmth. not tight. not soft enough to let him slip out of it either. he turned the hand slightly, thumb brushing near the scraped skin, his mouth tightening just a little. « naturally, this is the part you decided not to mention. »
around them, heaven kept moving. sandals against pale stone, wings shifting somewhere past the archway, voices carrying instructions no one would question until they were already halfway ruined by them. raphael did not look away from lucifer’s hand yet. it was easier, for a breath, to be annoyed at the blood than at the fact that lucifer had reached for him at all. then he looked up. « fine. »
« i am coming with you. not because i trust whatever terrible idea is currently throwing itself around inside your skull, » raphael added, already sounding tired of a plan he had not even heard yet, « but because you asked in the least stupid way you know how, and apparently i am meant to reward progress when i see it. » his fingers gave lucifer’s hand one small squeeze before he started moving, pulling him along only enough to make it clear he was done waiting. « and if this involves stealing anything, lying to michael, or setting something on fire, i want you to know i have already judged you. i am simply walking beside you while doing it. »
she had trusted him once, she had followed him, listened to his voice when it whispered promises that felt too real to ignore. she had let herself believe in something beyond what she had been told to be, beyond what she had been allowed to want. and in doing so, she had destroyed everything she once believed in. but it had been her choice ... had it not ?
was that why they still blamed her, even now ? for the loss of paradise, for the fall, for the simple act of believing the devil and accepting what had been forbidden to her. as if she alone had carried the weight of that moment. as if she alone had reached for it. she should have surrendered. she should have kept her head down, obeyed, remained silent, untouched by curiosity or desire. that was what had been expected of her.
after all those years with adam, the blame, the cruelty, the way he had worn her down until she believed she was nothing. less than nothing. something to be shaped, to be used, to be broken quietly. and she had believed him, god ... how deeply she had believed him. until the day she didn't. until she had finally found the strength to leave him behind, to walk away from the life that had suffocated her for so long. she had told herself she would find something new. a purpose, a life that belonged to her.
but had she ever truly found it ? and now ... here he was again, lucifer. with another offer. lucifer and his offerings, they had never brought her anything good. never peace, never safety, never freedom in the way she had once hoped. only consequences she had carried long after he was gone. so why, why did she still want to say yes ? was it simply to make him stop ? to silence that voice that always seemed to know exactly where to press, exactly what to offer ?
or was it something deeper ? something inside her that still longed for what he represented ? ❝ and that is what you need isn't it ... to win ? ❞ her voice wavered slightly, her breath catching in her throat as she spoke. the words felt heavier than she intended, laced with a quiet understanding that made her chest tighten. she was just another piece on his game. another move. ❝ why not look for another victim for your evil plans ? ❞ there was resistance in her voice, an attempt to push back, to draw a line between them, but even as she spoke, it felt fragile. unsteady.
because when he turned away ... she followed. her body moved before her mind could stop it, her steps falling into place behind him as if pulled by something she could not name. as if there was something in him, in his presence, in his promises ... that still held a quiet, dangerous power over her. ❝ this is not me saying yes. ❞ the words came quickly, almost defensive, as if she needed to hear them more than he did. but even she knew they were a lie.
lucifer did not stop when she followed him. of course he did not. stopping would have been the polite thing to do, the merciful thing, perhaps even the brother-approved thing, and lucifer had never been particularly gifted at any of those when there was something far more interesting unfolding behind him. still, the corner of his mouth shifted the moment he heard her steps fall into place, soft and reluctant and already betraying her long before her mouth tried to rescue what pride she had left. « no, » he said, with unbearable ease, as though agreeing with her had cost him nothing. « of course it is not. »
his eyes moved over her face, lucifer noticed too much for that, noticed the tremble in her voice, the way she threw words like stones while still walking after him, the way she called herself victim and him evil because perhaps it was easier than admitting there had been a part of her, even then, that had wanted the door opened. « you are merely walking in the same direction as me, entirely by accident, with a deeply wounded expression and a very dramatic refusal prepared in case anyone asks. » his grin widened, shameless, delighted. « honestly, eve, i respect the commitment. i mean it has been only what? hundreds of thousands of years? that is the level of pettiness i like. »
yet the word victim stayed there between them. that one did make him slow, not fully, never enough to let her think she had caught him, but enough that the air changed around him. lucifer did not wear guilt the way raphael might have wanted him to, folded neatly in his hands and confessed with lowered eyes. but there was memory there. eden, fruit, choice, punishment. a garden built like a cage and called paradise because the bars had flowers on them.
« and there it is, » he murmured, quieter now, though the smile never completely left him. « evil plans. victims. terribly flattering, truly. i shall have to write it down before michael gets the chance to make it sound boring. » he turned more fully then, walking backwards for a few steps as if even escape from celestial supervision had to become performance in his hands. « but no, i do not need to win. » his head tilted, curls falling slightly into his eyes, that bright, dangerous look returning like a match catching flame. « i like winning. there is a difference. a very important one, actually. winning irritates the right people. winning proves a point. winning makes every obedient little saint with their hands folded and their eyes lowered remember that someone, somewhere, is still laughing at the rules. » then his gaze fixed on her. « but you were never a piece on my board. »
for once, there was no flourish to it. no grand gesture, no bow, no wicked little laugh slipped in to soften the edge. the words landed plainly, which somehow made them worse from him.
« adam may have needed you to be one. father certainly preferred you that way. silent, useful, grateful for the shape someone else carved you into. but me? » his mouth curved again, slower this time, less teasing than before. « i offered you a choice. just like i offered lilith a choice. that is all i have ever done. admittedly, i tend to make choices sound far more entertaining than they are, but still. »
« you reached, eve. I did not force your hand. not because i stole your will and tucked it into my coat pocket. you reached because some part of you wanted to know what would happen if the world was larger than the one you had been given. and they hated you for it because you proved their design was not perfect. of course you are not, that is my job obviously. but look at both of us, fallen from grace and still, we are thriving no? well at least i am. you on the otherhand... well » his smile flickered, way too proud but it was lucifer morningstar we were talking about, who if not he was allowed to be proud.
« that is why i am here. to help you. i have always had a weakness for that sort of thing. for the less fortunates. to help where i can. » oh dear lord, whatever it was ringing in the back of his head, it would not end good for anyone but himself. « so no, darling, this is not you saying yes. » his voice lifted again, lighter, warmer with mockery, though something beneath it remained too awake now to be dismissed entirely. « this is you investigating. questioning. exercising your free will in a suspiciously forward-moving manner. » he looked back at her once more, grin returning in full, beautiful and wicked and absolutely impossible to trust. « and if anyone asks, i kidnapped you. terribly heroic of me, really. »
❝ is not as though i have a choice in the matter ... ❞ his words were calm, too calm. but never gentle, not when it came to the other olympians. it was not zeus alone, though perhaps he was the one most accustomed to hearing that tone. after all, he was the one who called upon hades in ways the god did not enjoy. he ... the one who became the private bank of olympus. and even if he had his own kingdom, his own realm and rules to abide by, there was still one he had to answer to, his brother.
❝ believe me, zeus, no one would believe that. after all, they know well enough why i would travel this far to stand by your side. if only out of obligation to the king of the gods. ❞ there was no bitterness in his tone. he did not envy his brother, he never did. many would assume otherwise, that the eldest son would resent the throne, would covet it. but he never had. nor did he envy zeus and the weight that crown placed upon one's shoulders. ❝ this is not what tries my patience. what tries my patience is the fact that you speak in riddles rather than getting to the point as to why we stand here. ❞
for a moment, hades found himself wondering what passed through his brother's mind. it seemed he was holding something back. had he spent so long among the dead, among shadows and silence, that he had failed to notice the changes in him ? had zeus changed so much ? crimson eyes flickered with something almost close to curiosity beneath their usual composed stillness. there was something different in the way his brother spoke now ... something unfamiliar. the king did not quite sound like one anymore.
❝ are you living through a middle-aged crisis, zeus ? ❞ the corner of the god's lips tilted slightly, something that might have passed for a smile. the sunlight kissed his pale skin, giving it an almost marble like sheen. ❝ what is happening ? speak plainly, once and for all. is this why you called upon my presence ? to speak of what we could or not choose ? of what he did when we were but young gods ? ❞
his tone remained calm as he came to a stop, arms crossing loosely over his chest, crimson gaze settling fully upon his brother. ❝ i have walked the rest of the world ... and i have found that i prefer the quiet of my realm. ❞
zeus stared at him after that, and for once, the insult that sat ready on his tongue did not leave him quickly enough. middle-aged crisis. it would have been funny from anyone else. from hades, it was irritating because it had landed too close to something zeus had not found a better name for yet, and he hated that. « a middle-aged crisis, » zeus repeated, his mouth pulling to one side as he looked away, toward the stretch of open sky beyond the pillars. « yes, i suppose that is what mortals call it when a man wakes one morning and realises he has ruined half of what he touched. comforting little phrase. makes it sound as if a new robe and a younger lover might solve the matter. »
olympus shone behind him, all marble and sun and worship built so high above the world that one could almost forget how much rot collected underneath anything left unchallenged for too long. almost. zeus had been very good at forgetting. better than most. better than any king should be. « i called you because you are annoying, unpleasant, suspicious by nature, and impossible to flatter into stupidity. » he looked back at hades then, and the corner of his mouth twitched, though it did not quite become the easy grin it once would have been. « do not let that warm your heart too much. i would hate to be responsible for the underworld flooding. » then the amusement thinned. « something is wrong. »
the words came plainly at last, and zeus disliked the sound of them the moment they were outside his mouth. too simple. too bare. kings were supposed to dress fear properly before anyone else saw it. prophecy, omen, disturbance, threat. anything except the truth of it, which was that zeus did not know what had shifted, only that something had, and that for once his pride had not been enough to convince him otherwise.
« the sky has been answering too slowly. » he said it low, as though the walls themselves might become curious if he spoke louder. « storms forming where i did not call them. lightning striking without temper behind it. eagles refusing the western cliffs. priests burning offerings and receiving nothing but ash that smells of the old pit. » he laughed once, bitter and short, then rubbed a hand over his jaw. « and before you ask, yes, i checked whether it was one of my children being dramatic. it usually is. apollo swore innocence beautifully, which means nothing. hermes looked too amused, which also means nothing. ares accused the weather of cowardice. athena told me i should have noticed earlier, which was helpful in the way a knife between the ribs is technically informative. »
« then the dead began speaking my name in dreams. » that was the part he had not wanted to say. it soured the air between them more than any insult could have. zeus stood still after it, jaw tight, shoulders set, the king of gods looking suddenly more like a brother who had dragged himself out of an old memory and found it waiting in daylight too.
« not prayers. not curses. names. pieces of them. mine. yours. poseidon’s. father’s, once. » his voice roughened around that last word, anger moving under it before he forced it down. « and i know enough to understand when something beneath the world is reaching upward, which means, unfortunately for both of us, i require the company of the one god who spends his days listening to what the dead pretend they do not know. » he exhaled through his nose, glancing away again, as if even saying that much had cost him more patience than he wished to admit. « and since you prefer the quiet of your realm, brother, you may consider this my generous attempt to ruin it personally. » / @angcltouched
. @unholyrites hera asked for hades : you don't have to put on a smile for me.
oh, but that was where she was wrong. if there was one he needed to put on a smile for, it was her ... hera. she had been the first to make him feel something within that darkness they had once been forced to endure. and the one to shatter those feelings the moment they had stepped out of it. he feared she could read him better than anyone else in this world. read him in a way no one ever could. and for that ... he could not allow it. the smile remained on his lips, dry and hollow ... devoid of true emotion. even if she could see right through it. through him.
he could not show her anything different. not when she belonged to another. when duty and destiny had driven her away from him, away from anything he might have offered, something that, to her, had been nothing. ❝ why should i not smile with you, sister ? ❞ the last word left his lips dry and cold. as though that single word alone was meant to build a wall between them. a wall that could never be broken. a wall he had once believed would truly keep them apart.
he could not see her as anything more than his queen. his sister. and yet ... when he closed his eyes, he saw her differently. if she had ever dared to touch his heart, she would have felt it, how it beat for her, faster than it ever would for anyone else. ❝ do not worry, hera. i will not remain at this gathering for long. i will allow zeus to give his speech, and then i will return to the underworld. ❞ his crimson eyes locked with hers, perhaps for a second longer than they should have. he wanted to remain distant, cold ... as he was with everyone else. but for a moment, just a moment, he almost softened. almost.
❝ you may go greet your other guests, my queen. ❞ and his gaze darkened as it moved away. hades did not blame her, not truly. but he could not allow himself to feel. for he feared that, if he did ... it would break him.
𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒.
hera did not move when he called her sister. for a second, she only looked at him. not because she had nothing to say, gods knew that was rarely the problem, but because the word had hit exactly where he wanted it to. he knew it too. « do not call me that when you want to hurt me. when you want to use it as some kind of punishment for me. » her voice stayed low. controlled. too controlled, perhaps, but she had been queen long enough to know how to keep her face still while something inside her twisted. that was what they had made of her, after all. something adorned, something useful, something that could bleed without staining the marble.
« and then queen because you want to pretend you are only being respectful. » she finally looked down at the cup, at the untouched wine, at the small tremor she had kept almost hidden in her fingers. almost. that was irritating. she hated that too. hated that he could still pull something real from her with one word and one smile that did not even reach his eyes. « you think i cannot tell the difference? »
hera looked back at him then, and there was no softness waiting politely in her face. there was hurt, yes, she could not scrape all of it away fast enough, but there was anger over it, pride over that, and something older underneath both. something that had started in darkness, long before thrones, before marriage, before zeus learned how easily people looked away when power smiled at them.
« i know what you are doing, hades. you always do this. you make yourself cold enough that no one can accuse you of wanting anything. then you leave before anyone can ask what it cost you to stand there in the first place. » she stepped closer, only slightly. enough for him to know it was deliberate, not enough for the room to notice. she would not give olympus that. she had given olympus enough.
« and do not tell me you are leaving for my sake. » her mouth tightened around the words before she forced them out anyway. « that is a coward’s kindness. disappear, and then make me grateful for the absence. » the noise of the gathering pressed around them. someone laughed too loudly. a servant passed close enough that hera had to turn her face a fraction, just enough to become queen again until they were gone. the second they passed, her eyes found him once more.
« you are not the only one who was given a kingdom and told to rot inside it. » it came out before she could soften it. good. perhaps she was tired of softening everything. perhaps she was tired of being the one who made every awful thing easier to survive because she stood straight, because she wore gold well, because she could sit beside zeus and not look like something in her had been buried alive.
for a moment, her gaze dropped to his mouth. not long. only enough to make the old memory worse. his real smile had been different. she remembered it even when she did not want to, especially when she did not want to. that was the cruel thing about memory. it kept what pride would rather burn. « i know what your smile looks like, hades. » her voice was quieter now, and that made it worse. « that is not it. » @angcltouched
