Gods And Goddesses - Blog Posts

Wuthering Heights

(This is a brief inspiration I had after reading Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte and after listening to Kate Bush' song.)

Oh! It's him! He's here!

Oh! It's him! He's here!

Oh! It's him! He's here!

Oh! It's him! He's here........

and so, the voices whispered near my ear...

It was a windy day, clouds were blocking the Sun's light, protecting our eyes from its lethal rays. The Rain was soon to come and English people were strangely "happy" for it to come. Grey engulfed their senses, the vain shades of color appearing frequently and the cold burning the tip of their nose, forcing their instincts to shoot out at fluttering around to find anything to use as a cover. After all this daily mundane suffering, they still loved these landscapes and the punishment that came with them.

I was hiding in the little corner of his office, shaking wildly. Trembles came out of everywhere.

He had the temper of one of Zeus' child, Ares. My former lover, Ares (yes, exactly him), was also overflowed with fury and rage, not really understanding where it came from. A God who loved battle, blood, competiton and anger. He fought until the end of it all, just like his father, that's why Zeus never preferred him as a child.

With me, he was a strange monster. You must wonder why would I think in such a way about a former lover... Well, he was not a human, nor an alien, he was a God. I'm saying this because at the beginning I didn't know what he was. When he started courting me, I hadn't noticed the immense love he had for me, which was unacceptable to me; how could a man love a woman thusly? He hadn't known me, nor had he ever seen me previously, even by mistake. I'm sure of it. Hence, my intuition told me that he was not a good sign, coming to me and confessing such a profound love. "And who do you think you are, behaving to such a degree without any further motivation?"

The strangest part was that he didn't even manage to show me his family, that enormous family of his, that he was so eager to introduce me to. But, I saw his mother in my dreams. Hera. That woman. That Goddess- The mother in law I couldn't be able to have.

She was caressing my hair and cheeks while fondly looking at me as if she created me with her own hands. Perhaps, she did. We could never know.

Hera was speaking to me, in a language I understood at that moment but once I woke up, I couldn't seem to remember a thing.

What happened next made me freeze to death, literally. She moved her hand, with the intention to caress my belly. I had no idea what she was trying to do at that time. While doing so, she raised her head, looking at me and smiling once again, in such a fondly way that even in real life I felt the tears starting to shed from my eyes. That explains the wet eyes and pillow I had once I woke up.

I woke up. Ares was by my side, sleeping soundly. I was shaking. Trembles were fluttering their way up my body. Ares, still deep in his sleep, he raised his arm up, gripped my hip and moved me to the inside of his hairy chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around me, he scooted his head in my neck and sighed with a warm breath making me shudder under him.

I'm a cold little woman who needs heat coming out of her "husbands" body, words and eyes.

It was all a sign, to tell me that something was going on.

On 2 June, a Sunday, he left and never came back. Where to go, I don't know. But my soul and energy reeked of him still, my inner witch, that was hidden in the profounds of the universe, searched for him like a desperate bitch.

He left on my birthday.

And I loved him wholly, even if he was a monster.

He's here! We want his heat! Let him burn us!

He's here! We want his heat! Let him burn us!

He's here! We want his heat! Let him burn us!

He's here! We want his heat! Let him burn us!

and so, the voices started once again...

Mars was his name. The man that came in my house and bribed me under his own fate.

Now I tremble wholly and my body needs my "husbands" heat. Where will I find it?

He comes to me. Every step he takes, I feel even colder than before. My body freezing, but my soul doesn't seem to shut up.

He is now so close to me that he could hear my heart beating.

"Xena, my love..." he whispers so softly that even I am bewildered at how I managed to hear it.

That name. "No. Don't say that name." he can't. How did he? He should be dead now. No human or other specie can ever utter that name.

"Xena... it's me. Look at me, please." he softly utters my name again.

He isn't dead. Why? How?

Ares! Lover! Come here! We're so cold!

Ares! Lover! Come here! We're so cold!

Ares! Lover! Come here! We're so cold!

Ares! Lover! Come here! We're so cold!

I shake my head wildly. Why are they not shutting up? Why can you not understand that he left us? my voice echoes in my head silencing them. For now, because they started once again.

I look up. There he is. My Ares.

"Xena, it's me, Ares." he calls.

The voices were silent. His voice was exactly Ares' voice. But how-

"You aren't! Mars how? What are you- what are you trying to do?" my voice trembles from the cold I felt. He looked like my Ares and he was as tall as him. The unique height that only my husband had.

It can't be true.

"Xena... think about it. Why would someone be named Mars?" he questioned me, inviting me to think.

Mars. In Latin for the God of war, Ares. The one and only deity that had made such an imponent famous story throughout the archaic Rome.

While trembling from the cold, I raise my hands and caress my freezing cheeks; he managed to call me by my name without dying. He has the same features and physic as him. The name is exactly the same as his but in a different language.

So, it's truly him.

I remove my hands away from my face and I raise my head up, looking towards him. Tears come out of my eyes, flooding my entire sight.

"Ares?" I say in a meek voice, which I doubt he would hear if he'd have a normal hearing.

He just nods his head, "Xena. It's me, Ares. I've come home." he says whispering.

"Ares! It's you! You're here!" I call for him while tremendously shaking like a leaf.

He comes extremely close to me, grips me at the wrists and gets me up from my seated position, engulfing me in his arms.

His heat consumes me, making me feel whole again. My body and senses burn, finally having my lover back.

Fire eruptes from my sides, unleashing the beast I had been hiding for decades. My true self was with him now.

He's here! He's finally here!!!!!!!

He's here! He's finally here!!!!!!!

He's here! He's finally here!!!!!!!

He's here! He's finally here!!!!!!!

and so, the voices resided in the profounds of Goddess' Xena.

This was the extraordinary love story of Ares and Xena.

K.M.

Cubitum eamus?

I was surrounded by green landscapes. The leaves' and trees' color matched with my flowy skirt. My mustardish skirt danced with the breeze, a graceful waltz under the blinding light of my usual guest. This guest has always been there with me. Specifically every Sunday. And peculiarly its light gets stronger and brighter everytime that I appear in its presence. It's really strange. Perhaps, Zeus is content when seeing me, and his only way to contact me is by increasing the brightness of his Sun. Nonetheless, I'm thankful of it.

I could feel the warm breeze timidly touching my bare arms and uncovered shoulders. It was such a hair-raising feeling that it bizarrely made me slowly close my eyes while enjoying that docile embrace.

The crunch of grass under boots made my eyes slam open. That crunch of boots on dew-kissed ground resonates - a rythmic dance between man and nature. Each step, a whispered promise of connection, as if the meadow itself aknowledged his presence.

I turned around. There stopped a gigantic man. He was so majestic that I nearly stopped breathing. There was no oxygen enough for me. The nature was taking it from me.

Despite this, I continued looking at him. I didn't dare to say a thing. No voice could get out of my mouth.

I was so mesmerized by him that I didn't notice he was getting closer and closer to me. I was laying on top of the meadow. Undoubtedly, I was looking like a sloppy little girl and unashamedly I was staying there unmoving.

Surprisingly, he stretched his arm to me. Oh God. What did I think that he was going to do? That, I better not share with you.

"Aventurine. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you..."

I shockingly raised my head. How did he know my name? That I didn't know, nevertheless, I didn't really care. My name softly coming out his fleshy lips ignited a burning heat inside my heart and tiny body. I obviously zoned out and I didn't bother listening to what he was saying.

A snippet of my book since you guys asked for more info! <3 @ze-melon-lord

For context, the setting is supposed to be similar to the Hellenistic Era of Ancient Greece, in a Caveat-like theatre(If you like my writing, and want to see more, PLS send me asks, the fandoms I write for and Nono's are pinned on my page)

Warnings// Depictions of gore and violence, guns and swords, minor cliffhanger if you squint

DO NOT repost w/out using the button on the post or claim as your own, you will be blocked and reported. All rights ARE reserved

Chapter One; Loyalty is Only Obsession

“Ms. Serafina? Ma’am, are you ready?” A young voice spoke up from the darkness of a corner. A dark, private, cavea-like seating area.

“Indeed, I should like to see the show begin…,” A heavenly deep voice responded, “Maybe this one will be different?”

On the guards’ ends, they passed a small cue down to the stage before replacing themselves behind the Goddess’s chair, “Ladies and gentlemen, let the show… begin!”

A disarming smile displayed on the Woman's lips, Her slender hand leaning softly against Her cheek. As She shifted Her hands, the off-shoulder sleeves on Her velvety black dress— garnished with silk roses—, wrinkled and slid ever so slightly up Her arms.

 A messily beautiful display of tricks and twists went on at the infant stage below. The dear, dejected Serafina just couldn’t be satisfied by pulling rabbits out of hats, anymore. Of course, She couldn’t control that She was like this, She had simply existed for just… so long.

Some sorrowful display cast over Her smile whilst staring upon what the people thought Her upbringing had been, “This is all wrong…!”

“Would you like me to inform them?” A fit, armored, young woman knelt beside Her Grace.

“Absolutely not, Anthea; I would rather they not know than they be aware and revolt… Ignorance is bliss, afterall,” She kept Her stern facade through Her disgust.

“As you wish, My Liege,” The soldier of sorts returned to her post in the corner, armor clanking softly against itself.

The show continued, seemingly harmless. No one in the theatre nearly had the chance to catch the barrel of a gun in an actress’s boot. An evil grin consistently mistaken for one of enjoyment.

“and now…,” The man from earlier announced an hour since the start, “Let the beginning of the end commence!”

“Haah, finally…; this one was starting to bore me more than some of the others have… And I thought it would be different,” Serafina, ever the infamous one for never giving up pride, therefore, even when a show appalled Her, She stayed.

“You know, it would be a shame if-,” The lights went out, accompanied by the ping of a bullet ringing through the air — the result of Her own foolishness. 

A deep chuckle slipped from Her mouth, “Oh, is it going to be interesting, afterall? Save the best for last, I suppose.”

“No, Miss, I-I don’t think that is part of the show,” Ethaan called, across from Anthea.

“Not part of the show? So you believe it may be an attack?”

“It is possible, yes,” He adjusted his glasses as if they had miraculously slid down his nose, which they were too tight to do.

“Then should we not evacuate the Lady?” Anthea protested.

“Err…” A small stutter sounded from the boy.

“If I am not in any immediate danger then what is the point?” Serafina stood up, turning around to face the two guards with a perky chuckle, “If it comes down to, then you shall fight.”

“If it is your order, My Lady,” Ethaan hesitantly obeyed, nodding as he turned and looked to his colleague.

The Woman placed a hand on the chair’s armrest from where she stood beside it. The young soldiers exchanged glances; they had only met fairly recently, though they figured they got along just fine.

“We can make that-” Bullets split the mount of one last burning candle, hurling flames towards the ground.

“Well, this means we fight?” Ethaan adjusted his glasses once more, the nerves shaking his fingertips.

“It does. Lady Serafina, please get back.” Anthea stood her ground, moving slightly in front of her superior.

 With the Goddess safely behind Her guards, they readied themselves. Combat may be approaching.

“Where is it coming from? Do you think it is one person or multiple?” Her trusted guards quickly questioned the Lady.

“The first shot sounded like it came from the stage, when the lights went out. And if the one from just now managed to hit our only light left… then it had to of also come from the stage; so, it is at least one of the actors.” Serafina always had such an unnatural sense of hearing. Quite convenient, yes…

Stampeding footsteps raced up the stairs, just so happening to stop in front of their target —There were two of them.

The five of them only needed the slivers of moonlight, seeping in through scream-soaked curtains, to spot each other’s silhouettes. Second by second, breath by labored breath, the anticipation of who would move first—or even breathe first.

Ethaan and Anthea were too slow, the attackers too fast. The darkness blinded Serafina. How unfortunate, She just can’t see in the dark.

Pew, one bullet shot was all it took. Where was it going? To the Goddess? To the guards? The latter. Who? Anthea; she pushed her partner away, taking the bullet to her own abdomen. Wait…, a second shot? So quickly? Did they both have guns?

Ethaan didn’t risk it, he lunged at the anonymous—too late… He landed his blade in a shoulder, yes, but The Lady had already taken the blow.

Her senses had failed Her. She had only been hit in Her right eye, communication was still possible; unless it had gone too deep?

“Ms. Serafina!” Ethaan called out, watching as his boss dropped to Her knees.

She kept silent, still, and silent.

The only audible thing being the labored breaths of the others.

Panicked, the attackers left. Was that it? They thought the bullet took Serafina’s life; so, that was it? How awfully pathetic.

“They’re gone now; please tell me you’re alive, Milady!”

“Yes, I am fine. I only dropped, so they would leave. Though, My eye is definitely going to be blinded; the shrapnel got in it.” She paused, looking at the frightened boy, “Is Anthea alive?”

A withered, “Yes…” sounded from the ground, Anthea lay there, broken and defeated.

“Come now, we shall get you the medical attention you require; we can’t have My best in centuries dying on Me, now, can we?” Serafina carefully cradled the maimed maiden in Her arms, “You aren't injured, as well, are you Ethaan?”

He shook his head, thankfully in good physical health. Yes, physical, at the very least. Had anyone more been injured She wouldn’t have known what to do with Herself. She already didn’t know what to do with Herself; this whole moment felt oddly evocative, almost as if this had maybe happened to Her before. But it hadn’t, it couldn’t have! Or could it. Had it?

© a-yciecat

Hey so like, I'm currently writing a book and was wondering how many people would be interested in reading the first 2 or 3 chapters of it? It's set in a fantasy version of Ancient Greece, and the main characters are a goddess and her two guards. It's about the goddess, Serafina, and how the loyalty of one of her guards turns into the guard obsessing over her, and how everything takes a turn when the guard does something to "prove her loyalty" to Serafina. Would you guys be interested?

totenkopfe ❤

[Gender-neutral]

[900+ words]

Description: Being a god is hard when you're not the one with power. As you ponder this, a certain god comes to chat. (Dream x Reader)

[Read the rest under the cut]

{《☆》}

You spread your fingers wide, feeling the familiar curls of magic spread over your mortal form, encompassing it in more power than a normal mortal could handle. The withering grape vines held delicately in your hands come back to life, bright green leaves embued with your power blessing whoever decided to use them with the finest wine for years to come.

And as it always did when you used your magic to save your lifeblood, another god came to see who was messing with his.

"You again," Dream said, their mask fixed over their pointed nose, ever-calm and regal. "This is the fifth time this hour?"

"These are new and they are so weak. I must save their vineyard, they supply my biggest followers." You cast another hand to a few weak vines, thumbing a crumbling leaf between your fingers as it's too far gone death decays once more. "The nation is suffering from X-dee's happiness, for it has not stormed in many a night. If this goes on even the child cannot sing these plants better."

"I suppose that is true," The overseer of death looks upon the rows of decaying life and they sigh. They lift their own hand above yours, resting softly on top of yours as he pushes his magic into the air. For all the mortals' cries, Dream is not the god of death. He is the overseer and he is the judge but he is still fair and he is kind. The plant hums beneath your finger, back to life easier than it's known in weeks. "The mortals do not deserve your kindness, O'estatic one. They are greedy and one day they will mark their own end."

"And one day, albeit far later than theirs, so will we," You flip your hand to press your palm to his, sharing the most emotions in the easiest way godhood allowed. "We are not all-lasting as Chaos or Order, we are simply here as long as humans will it so. And not all humans are thieves or scoundrels, and not all thieves are scum amongst angels. As most humans are, I've found them to be complex."

You turn to your plants, sighing as you trail a vine. "Such fickle things, letting such irrationality guide their lives for so long, letting fear and indecisiveness plague their thought when if they thought to ration, would find people do not simply hate them for breathing. For what reason for plants if not humans to enjoy them, a fine wine such as the ones we lay to be created may never be tasted and appreciated because the right person decided for everyone else that nobody wanted them. I find that they are horrible things, but not for their own vile acts, but for the ones coming from a wrongfully good place."

"I haven't had such time to think like that," Dream admits, coming to your side. Here, so close to you, he tips the mask back from his face. Such opposing foes as yourselves, to think of each other as so close. Their lips are parted ever so slightly, his gaze focused on nothing as his mind runs.

"I only ever have time," You sigh, fixing the gold bands on your wrists. "You run a kingdom, I run a vineyard. Time is not something you come about sparingly, not without reason."

"So what is your reason?" Dream turns to you, his human-like freckles standing out amongst pale skin. It was always ironic to you, how someone who looked so human was so disconnected from them. The thought never lingered long,  drowned out by prayers from newly-wed wives asking to be blessed with child or for drunkards for the best wine, sometimes even from the occasional person questioning their gender and pleading for advice from the god known as their patron. "Surely a god as kind as you would have loyal followers."

You shake your head ruefully. "The drought has either killed them all away or shown the ones whose faith had always been waivered. When I showed no help in ending it, even if only for it being out of my control, they had chosen their stance and switched patronage." Now your time was filled with visiting your still loyal followers, as few and far in between as they were. Laying small blessings upon the bastard child's head for green thumbs and fixing a quick wine for the laboured mother who wished for a break.

Dream frowned, emotions so humane they were written like scriptures upon his face and detailed in his eyes curve and forehead wrinkles. "I apologize, O'estatic one. I had not thought of how the drought might've affected the ones still based here."

"It is my hometown," You shake your head even if Dream does not understand the meaning behind your words. "Perhaps I was not raised here but my mother's blood spilt on these holy grounds for me to be born godly. I will bless these as my home for as long as the land remains."

"I'm aware," Dream shakes his head although he does not argue. Fixing a gentle stare over the vineyard, he extends his arm to you. "Our work has been done for today though. Come for a visit to my kingdom. It has been a while since our last dinner."

"Alright," You place your hand gently on his forearm and like a godly voice had not saved these plants, disappeared within a gentle breeze of wind.

{《☆》}

[YOOOOOO I'm tired but I literally can't sleep lol I just watched ranboo's phasmophobia stream with bilzo and this one long af dnd video with Slmcc and I'm basically on the equivalent to drugs rn (/j)]

[I really don't have anything to say except my back freaking hurttsssss]

[L0v3, k1ng]

Masterlist

Taglist: @creatorofstars

Celtic Deities: Cailleach, Ancient Old Crone of Winter

'There are three great ages; the age of the yew tree, the age of the eagle, the age of the Cailleach.' -An ancient Celtic poem

The Goddess Cailleach is a mother of Celtic Gods, she is an old crone, a witch, and the Mother of Winter. She is so vastly ancient that the Celts when they arrived in Ireland two thousand years ago, addressed her as already ancient and powerful.

Cailleach was reborn again, an old crone, each Samhain and went about chilling the Earth to halt new growth, to frost the ground with a long wand or flick of her hand, and by calling down the snow. She was a tempest who controlled storms and weather along the shores of Ireland and Scotland and she is still spoken of in winter storm myths and legends today. Her staff had the ability to turn plants (and herself) into grey stone, therefore making lonely standing stones sacred to her.

It is said that her long fingernails carved the rivers and valleys of earth, and that she created the mountains from the stones that fell from her apron. Her appearance was fearsome, she was noted to have sharp red teeth and hair white as a frosted snow covered mountaintop. She was a goddess feared, a goddess respected. In many ways, she was Death personified.

Another Celtic goddess, Brigit was the goddess of new beginnings and birth, the sheering of sheep and the budding fertility of the spring. Twice a year, a challenge was issued with Cailleach against Brigit, the Cold Dragon against the Warm Lamb. At Samhain, Cailleach would triumph over Brigit, but at Imbolc the reverse would be true allowing spring to win over winter and warm the earth once again.

Terrifying old crone, witch, Cailleach, we feel her chill and deathly presence in our bones, our roots hit her frozen waters. We all must follow her crisp air into the dark cold winter of the wood. Here the old hag will test us, and we will be allowed to grow new again by the will of the Gods.