#( mentioned; empyreous )

[ekleipsi]

--- Seph is the picture of composure and kindness when in front of most people. Or being stern and authoritative when she gotta do her job in the Underworld...but man, when it is JUST her and Hades alone, and being together? This lady will step on her dress and trip face first into the dirt, she is a klutz and a sucker for her husband when they in private.

[sonorusgloom]

Que Beast squinting in the background. He can't sneeze but he's pretty sure someones talking about him

[jolalibrary]

v. call me at night

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter five of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. flirting. idiots who are so in love it’s stupid. feelings. smut. cunnilingus. p in v (mention). fingering (self-pleasure). praise kink. phone sex - frankie talking you through it. tasting yourself (post phone sex).

word count: 3.2k

an: thank you, as always, to @thetriumphantpanda for reading this after i told her "i think this is the hottest thing I've ever written" and her going, "yes."

He wakes with you curled against him—breathing softly, deeply. No line between your brow, no scrunched forehead, just peace and content etched into your features.

It pulls a smile from him. Teases at the edges, sewing string, until it’s pulled and he finds himself grinning

That’s when Frankie realises this is one of those moments he’ll replay—because it’s a morning that will forever cast others into the shadows.

It seems that mid-sleep, you’d thrown the pillow (that you’d insisted on) from between the two of you. Your leg has been thrown over him, cheek to his chest, fingers tucked into the place where his ribs meet the mattress.

It’s perfect, normal, far too romantic—especially for whatever this all is.

A part of him knowing this the more he lays there—being as still as he fucking could, letting minutes tick smoothly into an hour. Thinking, as his fingers slide against your skin, that he most definitely has slidden past falling and landed somewhere into fallen.

He’d always been close.

Frankie has been skirting the lines of his feelings for you for longer than he will ever care to admit.

Right now, it’s harder to fight when you’re pressed against him, all bare except for the barrier of your underwear. It all feeling too normal. Too right.

He supposes it’s why, when you do wake, he doesn’t let you second guess this. Just lets his lips find yours, his body moving yours until you’re on your back—fingers tangling back in his hair—and he’s descending, feeling the grip lesson until his fingers are sliding the fabric back down your gorgeous thighs.

Pressing a kiss to each leg, both on the top and on the inner leg, he catches a wispy whine of his name from your lips. Just as he catches the light scent of his body wash—the one you’d lathered on yourself after their fun last night before sliding into bed—on your skin.

I’m staying in your bed as a friend.

Sure, querida.

He takes one last look up at you, capturing it, and gripping it in his greedy hands—because fuck, you look beautiful, empyreal, exquisite. In truth, he’s constantly in awe of the way you stare at him, and right now, it makes his tongue heavy, his throat dry.

To the point, Frankie isn’t sure how long he stares, but when he blinks, he has to move. Fingers spreading you, parting you, the soles of your feet meeting his mattress before his mouth is on you, flattening his tongue, making your spine lift from the sheets.

You moan, and his cock twitches against the bed.

Mixed chants of his name, fuck, and a pleading—a collection of sounds, a record of them—all flowing from your mouth to his ears. One he would, and could, happily play on loop, over and over, never tiring of it, never tiring of you.

He’s sure he’s communicating that. His own moans travelling up, escaping, vibrating against you as your nails scrape in his hair, leaving little marks he’ll keep hidden, brush his touch over when missing you reaches a new peak.

Dipping his tongue into you, he spreads one of your thighs from squeezing his skull. Knowing you, your tells now, the little ways you tell him you’re close without muttering them—rendering you useless, breathless, almost fucking boneless.

Mixing up his play, he keeps you hovering, dangling, nerves lit up and sparkling, but not quite exploding, until he needs it as much as you. Rutting his cock against the mattress, groaning your name against your own core, fingers curling inside you, tongue lapping and lapping—

And then you fall, crash, shatter.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

Your skin shimmering with perspiration, glistening in the arriving morning. A sight, a beauty that is breathing and gasping because of him.

“Fuck,” he repeats.

“Fuck,” you murmur, breathless, a lazy, content smile passing over, fluttering across your mouth until your eyes flash open.

And he can taste you on his lips, knowing they’re glistening too. Not willing to wipe them just yet, licking what he can as you stare at him, more hungry than when he’d begun it this morning.

“Querida, you… that was so hot,” he whispers.

And, your eyes flick from his face to his cock, swallowing, all dark and lustful.

“You coming undone on my tongue, fuck, baby.”

His palms pressing into the mattress, crawling back up to you—hovering over you, watching your eyes slide from his face to his cock.

“I need you inside me. Wanna come round your cock,” you interrupt, tilting your head, and tracing your tongue over your bottom lip. “Please, Frankie.”

Your palm rises, cupping his cheek, and he curls into your touch, just for a moment. Temporarily allowing himself to imagine that there’s no deadline to the day, that he doesn’t have to take you home.

And then he crashes his lips to yours.

You tell him you should go home, once the two of you have caught your breaths.

There’s a soft smile, one put there by him, by the several rounds the two of you endured before 9 a.m greeting him, even if your words wound.

Frankie blames the smile for why he kissed you over breakfast, thumb wiping the sauce from your lip. It’s why he walked you (hand in hand) to the car, doing what you asked, and taking you home.

He also guesses it’s why he drove you back in silence, heart heavy. His shoulders sinking when all he was left with was the memories of last night, the scent of your perfume on his shirt and the knowledge he has to wait to see you like this again.

The moment he’s alone with himself, he replays the last few times he’s found himself able to enjoy you, sink himself inside of you, earn the little gasp you make when he sheaths himself fully in you.

Each time he does, his mind moves to the look you gave him once you’d shut the car door, lingering, hovering. It being so far removed from the one you usually give him when your nails are dug into his chest, slowly rocking yourself on him—eyes mixed with lust and adoration, love there, shining down on him. This one was different, unreadable.

“Always make me feel good, Frankie.”

His palms grip the steering wheel at the echo of your voice, wishing the wheel were your waist—holding, aiding. Guiding you as you rock against him, your words coating him, making it harder to hold on and not paint your walls in white.

“So good to me. For me. Think your cock was made for me.”

Fuck, he wants to go back. Turn the car around and hammer his fist on your door. Tell you all the things he thinks all the time—the ones he talks himself out of.

“You’re so deep, Frankie. Feels good.”

The sounds you make roam around his mind, haunting him—having done so all the way home, worsening when he slumps himself down in front of the television. Puts a show on to distract him, but his gaze remains unfocused, the sound not reaching him.

Because he’s just thinking about you.

The way your lips part when you moan his name. The look you give him, the smile which reaches your eyes before your lips when you've caught your breath.

He wants you back here.

Half-tempted to get his ass off the sofa and spend the rest of the day buried to the hilt inside of you. Dedicate himself to you, down on his knees, whispering prayers into your pussy until you’re chanting his name like a hymn.

He’d even be happy with just stuffing you, filling you, keeping you there, twitching and kissing him. Thighs on either side of his.

Frankie had half hoped that’s what you were asking him for when your message came through.

His heart sinks when it isn’t.

We didn’t really talk about it, but I’m away next weekend. I‘ve seen, it’s been a while since you had a girls weekend. I know. And the following one is bar night. I can pick you up for that. You don’t have to, I can get you this time. I already have to be away from you for two weeks, don't fight with me too, querida. Such a flirt, Morales.

Letting his head fall back, his hand runs across his face, massaging the aching spots on his skull. The ones that have appeared since he’d left you, each time coming in the moment he’s left with his thoughts.

The ones hammering.

Trying to focus on the ache he can rid himself of—the one hardening in his shorts. The one he finds he can’t alleviate now unless he thinks of you—unless he pictures your face or the angle of your body.

He’s fucked. More than fucked.

More so when your face outside the car comes back to him, and he wonders, if maybe you’d wanted him to ask you to stay.

You’d never been a good sleeper in a bed that wasn’t your own.

Franke’s had been always been an exception.

Even back when the two of you were friends. When you’d drank too much and he’d build a wall of pillows between the two of you, because you’re not getting a cab home, hermosa.

You’d re-learned that fact now, when you were in fresh hotel linen, eyes open, all wide at 2 in the morning. Body thrumming with unspent energy and the lingering taste of that tequila shot on your tongue. The laughter is still there on your face from hours with your other best friend. The one you’re not in an entanglement with.

She did well not to ask until you were full of food and joy, the question posed quietly, almost sneakily with a draw on her lips and a twinkle in her eyes.

So, you and Morales?

It doesn’t matter that you said nothing was happening, your body lied. It lit up, practically squirmed as it gave into thoughts of him—ones you’d tried not to think about. Especially when you hadn’t seen him in the week, the only free opening he had was tonight.

So, you and Benny?

You’d fired right back. She had just been able to be a little more honest than you. Explaining how the two of them were having fun, getting to know one another—something easy, simple.

Two things you couldn’t really put as descriptions for whatever the fuck you were doing with Frankie.

If she suspected something, more than she usually does, she says nothing. Instead, she orders water, some fries for the table, her hand covering yours before adding: you look happy, whatever it is.

Whatever it is being him.

The one thing you can’t stop thinking about.

You’d even noticed you’d become giddy when he texts, even if you know those are no different than before. You’d spotted an excitement bubbling when the days decrease until that green spot in your calendar, counting the hours, minutes.

Now, as you lay awake in soft, crinkling bedsheets, you don’t even try to not think about him. Losing yourself in the memories of the way he feels, the way he’s solid, toned, but soft—broad, firm and warm. How it feels to have your fingers in his hair when he‘s kissing a path to your pleasure.

The way he’s whispering promises he’ll keep, gonna make you feel good. Adding your name to the end, tailoring it, personalising the experience further to topple you over the edge before his mouth has even latched itself onto your pussy.

Sliding your hand down your body, you half-wonder if your arrangement can spread to the phone or if it only applies in person.

The thought running and running; fluttering and fluttering. Toying your bottom lip with your teeth, you allow your fingers to skirt over your underwear—somehow knowing, as awake and as needy as you were, you knew all you wanted and needed was him.

Frankie, as expected, answers in two rings.

No chance to end the call, to take it back—

“Hey…”

“Can’t sleep?”

You smile, fingers toying over the lace of your underwear. “Think your bed ruined me.”

“Just my bed?”

Smiling, you run the back of your palm across your face. Feeling the heat flushing over your cheeks.

“No. Not just your bed.”

He chuckles, deep, and you swear you can almost feel it ghost over your features.

“Kinda hate that next weekend is the bar night,” you say, somewhat out of the blue. An array of thoughts mix in your mind.

Ones you can’t ignore, all desperate to say.

I miss you. And not just as a friend, being the main one. The one that clags in the back of your throat, that sits there simmering, thumping. It adds to the long list of things you’re sure you should have said to him by now.

This situation, this beautiful, fucking perfect situation (that you’re sure could only become more perfect if you were honest) doing a number on you.

Frankie just laughs—a chuckle—a little noise he covers with a cough. “I can work around a deadline.”

“I bet you can.”

It’s more flirty than you mean. It escapes, hitting the air.

The two of you don’t do this. Don’t flirt outside of the pre-arranged calendar slots you both make. It’s friends then—just banter, jibes and inside jokes.

But, that wasn’t either of those two things.

“You call me because you need me, querida?”

Yes, you want to respond. Your teeth bite down on your lip, fearful of the way it’ll leave your lips. Whether it’ll escape all breathless, more of a moan, a whimper, than an actual word.

Because fucking yes, Francisco. Yes.

“You want me to help you sleep, baby?”

You let out a breath, it all shaky, nodding against the plump pillows before you’re able to whisper a yes. But, as soon as you let it out, he’s there—commanding, that same tone you imagine he used when he was knees deep in mud and clutching a weapon; the tone you envision he uses when he’s up in the air, switching things, pressing buttons—

“You listenin’, querida?”

Swallowing, you blink.

“Put me on loudspeaker, next to your head. Can you do that for me?”

You do. A thrum of nervousness and adrenaline both crashing into you, creating a storm, a current.

But, he washes it away, smothers it. His voice flows from the speaker, asking you to remove everything but what lay between your thighs. A thing you do, quickly, purposefully discarding it onto the floor before telling him you’ve done it.

“That’s my girl.”

Fuck. You close your eyes, half imagining the dip in the mattress, the way his stare feels on your skin, especially as he begins to guide you. You begin to paint the scene out, capturing him perfectly, creating a false version of him that can accompany the very real voice flowing from the speaker.

The one which is currently telling you where to place your hand. The one which is talking you through the path he wishes you to travel on—it whispering, darkly, almost gruffly, to slide your fingers across your collarbone (two, because he’s being particular), before he asks you to draw your thumb down your breastbone.

It’s precise, the movements he tells you to make.

Cup yourself, circle this, before Frankie asks you to lick a stripe on your thumb, before drawing a lazy shape over one of your peaked nipples—your choice, querida.

Then you’re descending, fingers raised, wrist being part of you making contact with your skin, as you go further down, feeling yourself flutter in despair for your touch—his touch.

“Now, pull them to the side and touch yourself for me.”

A gasp flutters from your lips, back arching as you do so. You’re wet, soaked. Lifting your hips into your own touch, before his voice cuts through. Direct, solid—his directions all clear. Obeying to his highest order as you dip your middle finger in, sliding it back up, brushing over your clit.

Each movement decided by him, and you’re willingly being putty in his hands all these miles away. Following each step, even if your body is thrumming, a knot coils in your stomach before he tells you to touch somewhere else. Keeping you hanging, beautifully edging you as though making you face a punishment for making plans that coincide with when the two of you could have been together.

“Slide two inside of you,” he says, voice deeper, more husky.

Both his tone and his instruction undoing you, another thread snapping off inside of you, adding to the fire that had begun in your spine.

You moan his name, quietly, worrying about your wall neighbours, but loud enough for him. Loud enough to spark a noise from him, one that must have risen from his chest to your ear, because it’s more a growl, an elongated moan of your name that makes you pump your fingers quicker inside of you.

“Wish they were yours.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “Missing my thick fingers?”

It was louder this time, the pathetic whine of his name that rushes past your lips. Your hips move, shifting with your ministrations as your head tilts towards the phone more, closer to his voice, pleading in whimpers for him to speak.

“Bet you feel so good—you’re always so tight, baby. Don’t think I can ever fuck anyone ever again, that’s how perfect you are, you ruined me.”

“Jesus, Frankie.”

He snorts, it travelling down your ear—furthering the flames that lick violently up your spine. More so, when he tells you to add another finger, curling them inside of you, annoyed that they’re not as thick as his, not as precise, not as good, nice or perfect.

“Wish you were here,” you say, letting it fall out in a moan.

It is too late to retract. To take back. Not even caring that it’s out there.

He stammers, you hear it—light, barely smothered, until he says, “I wish I was there too.”

His words continue. How he’d fuck you with his tongue, have you on all fours, fingers splayed over your back. Interconnecting his words with directions, your other hand drawing swirling, flicking as your walls tighten around the fingers buried inside of you.

“Need you.”

“I know, baby. I know. You’re so good for me.”

Your eyes clenched shut, feeling it building, rising, practically smothering up from your toes to your stomach—it all warm, hot—

“Please, baby,” he adds.

Let go. Let me have it. Come for me.

All words he doesn’t say, but barrel into you and shove you over the edge. Your breath hitching, body tensing—walls tightening around the fingers stuffed inside of you as you begin free falling, descending, swallowed by fire that smothers every part of you as your brain empties, body becoming more noodle than muscle and tendons.

Because of him.

For him.

“Bet you taste sweet,” he whispers, a noticeable shift in his voice, a little break between the words.

You let yourself smirk. It sliding over the soft smile that had appeared from how relaxed you now felt.

Because you know. Can tell from the little breaths he tries to keep from you—the tiny tells he thinks he’s a master at disguising.

“Want me to try?” you ask, voice dropping, low, husky. “Want me to taste myself?”

He pleads, more a whisper, a breath, than any word. But it’s there, please.

And you do. Tongue around the digits, swirling, tasting what he did to you, from all those miles away. Unsure what he has awoken in you, your body flushing under the praise which rolls from him in tandem, hoping to fuck he never calls you a good girl around the others.

CHAPTER SIX ->

[love-and-deepspace-wiki]

Linkon City Area

Okay, this is going to be a long one because there so much in and around this city to cover.

Motto(s): "City of Innovation"

City Organization:

The locals divide the city into defined areas/districts/zones. Here are the ones I've found mention of:

Districts:

Bloomshore District: the administrative district

Central Business District: where Flux Arts is located

Empyreal Ring District 23: a residential area

Entertainment District: a short, hundred-meter street tightly ensconced by grand, imposing buildings. There's a dark alley behind it where shady business gathers.

Gilt District: (see post)

No-Hunt Zones

Defined Areas:

Hat Island

Whitesand Bay

Landmarks, Streets, Etc.

Azure Square

Movere Bridge: Near the Hunter's Association building

Tide Street: Near Azure Square

Feyre Street

Linkon Bridge

Linkon Tower

Linkon TV Tower

General City Resources:

Animal Shelter

Aquarium

Akso Hospital/Linkon Central Hospital

Deepspace Hunter's Association - Linkon City Chapter

Linkon Airport

Linkon's Child Welfare Institute

Linkon City Convention Center and Exhibition Center

Linkon City Hall

Linkon City Park

Linkon Museum

Linkon Public Library

Linkon Tourism Bureau

Meteorological Museum

Ring Imperial Center

Silver Screen Hotel

University of Linkon

[askcaptainmindfang]

DOLOROSA: ... DOLOROSA: ... DOLOROSA: Augh The Terro+r Of The Seas Is No+w Here... Such Obno+xio+us News... DOLOROSA: Well Its Obvio+us To+ State Such Things Yo+u Plainly Kno+w No+w Ho+wever Fo+r The Reco+rd DOLOROSA: ... DOLOROSA: DOLOROSA: I Lived Bitch ! DOLOROSA: ... DOLOROSA: Mo+reo+ver That Needling Neo+phyte Mentio+ned Fascinating News She Burned Yo+ur Fleet With Seer Mo+nstro+us Garnet Eyed Empyreal Beast Of So+lar Flames DOLOROSA: Ha Ha Ablazing Funeral Pyre Fo+r A Lo+st Jade... Serves Yo+u Right DOLOROSA: https://the-dolorosa-official.tumblr.com/

[♏︎]: Ah, the mention of a lost Jade, 8ut it appears that said Jade was the first to cross 8lades with me on this virtual 8attlefield.

[♏︎]: Whether this is a calcul8ted display of 8ravery or a mere happenstance - I must acknowledge your newfound resolve 8ehind the comforting glow of your husktop.

[♏︎]: As for your son's message of love and acceptance, it appears the sea salt you swallowed in your unceremonious exit over8oard has 8ecome an em8edded part of your personality.

[red-w1nged-blackbird]

"Creature, do the stars seem bright?"

Main/Info Post!! (NSFW and potential TW in the rules.)

The land ripples and warps in a blaze of color, is it your imagination, or are those screams in the distance?

No time to be sure. However, walking into a time shriek was your first mistake. Because here, you find yourself in the realm of the...

Sublime Empyreal

Welcome to the blog, travelers! I'm Ari, (not my real name...) and this is the blog where I'll be posting about my silly universe lore for all my OCs.

NOTICE: I in no way intend for this to turn into a fandom. I only want to share my work with Tumblr, where I feel safe.

TAGS

Silly talking posts - Ari Yapping Session

Any S.E related posts - Sublime Empyreal

The occasional smut... - S.E Smut

RULES

20+ Men DNI. My OCs aren't for you to jerk off with your lesbian fetish. Don't send asks about this rule, my reason is because I'm uncomfortable with it.

Don't fucking complain if I do something in my lore that you don't like. It's my lore. My OCs. Not yours.

Please DO NOT ship my OCs outside of confirmed ships. It makes me uncomfortable <3

Yes, thirsts for my OCs are okay... as long as you aren't fucking weird about it !!!

It's common sense but zoophiles, pedophiles, and pro shippers STRICTLY DNI.

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK.

DO NOT MENTION MY WORK ON SITES OUTSIDE OF TUMBLR. (Specifically Tiktok.)

You MAY introduce friends to the blog.

You MAY share thoughts on possible AUs

You may NOT try forcing headcanons or ideas into the lore.

You MAY create OCs in the S.E, with permission from me. (Send an ask with your OC idea, so I may make sure it fits with the S.E lore.)

I hope that people will respect these rules, as this is my blog and what I'm comfortable with.

MASTERLIST

[monstersdownthepath]

Hi, been a big fan of your work for quite some time now and thought I would reach out to ask a question. Do you have any ideas for non-evil outsider demigods such as Primal Inevitable or Empyreal Lords? I have always felt that Pathfinder focused much more on the evil demigods and very little on the embodiments of the other alignments, most only getting a sentene or two before being never mentioned again, and I feel they can have just as much of a role as a demon lord could in a story.

------

Pathfinder proper and myself, I'll admit; I have a habit of making far more evil (or at least neutral) creatures than good. My own homebrew contains precisely two fully Good entities, and this comes with the territory of me enjoying the eldritch and alien.

I DO have at least a few ideas for more good-aligned creatures, such as Oa-Imago, a Great Old One who is Chaotic Good I've mentioned a few times on this blog already, and a thus-far unnamed Empyreal Lord presiding over exorcisms and other wards of the soul, whom I only recently started to develop. Another reason I haven't made any Empyreal Lords is, admittedly, a petty one: my main difficulty with creating new ones is that there's already a whole lot of them!Chronicles of the Righteous alone gives names, areas of concern, and Domains to 54 Empyreal Lords, and Boons to 36 of them! Finding a niche that hasn't been filled is a big hurdle for me, one I don't really get when I'm making some selfish evil fiend or some weirdo outsider god.

I agree with you that there should probably be more Primal Inevitables and Protean Cantors. Maybe I can shift some of my brainpower towards that... hmmmm...

[inafieldofdaisies]

Url Song Tag | Tagged by @statichvm ❤️

Prompt: spell your url name with song titles. Leaving some top picks from the titles mentioned below too.

i -> Insane by Kendra Dantes n -> Next to You by Charlotte Cardin a -> Arise by CLANN f -> Fingers by Chinchilla i -> Instincts by Aiko e -> Erode by Tender l -> Lilith by Saint Evangeline d -> Dear Rachel by Jayen x District o -> Old wounds by PVRIS f -> Flare by Ashwarya d -> Desert Rose by Lolo Zouai a -> Artemis by Aurora i -> In Madness by Constance s -> Sin on the skin by Jpolnd i -> Into the Blue by Galleaux e -> Empyreal by Roniit s -> Sugar baby by Rachel Lorin, Call Me Karizma

Tagging @poisonedtruth @aceghosts @direwombat @madparadoxum @jillvalentinesday @chazz-anova @clicheantagonist @nightbloodbix @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @fleurviolettes @voidika @v0idbuggy @stacispratt @cassietrn @trench-rot @unpetitoiseau and anyone that would like to do the tag ❤️

[ekleipsi]

--- Earth. A paltry, disgusting land; it's inhabitants vile, and its systems failing. He had given mortals all they could have wanted, all they needed to survive and make a comfortable and humble life and what did they do? Betray Him at every turn, losing faith and calling upon his mercy only when they were sinful...though perhaps, the worse crime was that He allowed it?

--- They suffered no punishment, day to day. Occasionally a flood, a plague, a Reckoning that set them back a decade...a century, but still rife with dissent and mutiny. It was disgusting. Sent to observe them in their behaviors, to judge them so- task had become clear to divine hand the longer he'd spent upon the earth. Thy needed discipline, humility, to be taught the things they had long since forgotten and lost in the passing years.

--- Footsteps were lightly, frame near glowing as he approached the Church, and what better place to start than at the beginning where his most faithful of followers were meant to be? The moment he'd set food inside though, the prickling of darkness and sin lay heavy in the air. While they said their prayers to lord and savior, their mouths were filled with razored lies; he felt each injustice, each crime. Like a thick layer of dread seeping into stone walls.

--- ' Lay your lives down for your Lord, feeble mortals...these walls are soaked deeply in your Sin. If you have nothing to repent for, then you have nothing to fear...and His divine light will welcome you eagerly into Silvered City. If you confess to your crimes now, I will be merciful...if not? Well, this Earth is parched for watering with the blood of the impure. ' and with such noble sounding words, was fiery sword raised- golden glow around him illuminated the near invisible wings on his back, two pair, to signify his position in the Heavens. An Angel.

@empyreous

[dappercritter]

I'm probably going to hell for this but

Hey I'm looking for a Lotura fic.

There was fanart of it that was really nice and polished, with the two of them in a ship hallway with reddish tinting and purple lights (so probably a Galra cruiser), they had to stand close because the corridor was narrow or decontamination protocol stuff, and they look reasonably flustered about it.

The fic description mentioned this being part of some kind of diplomatic mission?

I swear I saw it in a tumblr post on here but I lost track of it, and now I have now clue whether it was real or a dream.

Does anyone know what I'm talking about?

UPDATE: FOUND IT!

Turns out I was misremembering it completely and it was this post by the talented @minamorsart of their fic, The Empyreal Within.

[spyridonya]

During Act 4, the origin of your powers is made clear by everyone’s favorite naked lady, Nocticula, and everyone’s favorite mom, Areelu. Before this revelation, the Hand of the Inheritor is your KC’s biggest fan. He’s going to the Abyss for you. He’ll defend you against his possible future successor. He absolutely believes in you.

And then he finds the power comes from dead demon lords and is devastated. During this devastation,  Nocticula mentions that the Hand of the Inheritor was once the Hand of Vengeance for the empyreal lord known as  Ragathiel, the General of Vengeance who was a half devil and yet was accepted by Heaven.

This is Ragathiel. Ragathiel’s mother is Feronia, a demigoddess of the Plane of Fire. His father? A former empyreal lord who fell with Asmodeus and was given the 2nd layer of Hell to rule, the archdevil Dispater.

Ragathiel was raised by his mother outside of Hell after his parents amicable divorce. And he was one angry little shit of an angel (little is relative, he’s like 21 feet tall in his chosen form). Though he was an angel, Heaven did not trust him. Rags had to fight for a thousand years, kill countless monsters, kill thousands of devils, eventually killed Typhon, the original ruler of the first layer of Hell (Asmodeus say he totally allowed that to happen, but Asmodeus is an asshole), and had to get one of his six wings lopped off by his father in battle to prove that - no, he’s not an evil devil.

And it was only after that that the Hand joined Rags as his herald - the Hand of Vengeance.

In comparison, all it takes an Angel Commander is to go “I’m sorry you don’t trust me, but I’m gonna go out and do good (without making a monastic order of assassins to kill other in the name of good) anyway”.

The Hand really learns to trust an Angel KC and feel regret with most KCs in a matter of weeks. 

[randomidiocyncrazies]

on the topic of war crime tribunals/transitional justice in the Kree-Skrull Alliance, Scarlet Witch #6 brings up info on a genocide that's "for ruling eyes" only—the resolution of that story is pretty much something you'd expect from a superhero comic book (which is the type of story they set out to tell so it's like. within genre conventions even though I think it's questionable, though it's framed as adequate and effective access to justice and reparation*) but like. imagine if Teddy pushed for information transparency after seeing how much of his people's history is being hidden from them, or if it delved into a legal battle with the perpetrators of genocide instead of physical combat.

It's mentioned that the Skrulls hid this information because they wanted the Blood Skrulls "out of sight, out of mind"; they wanted to divorce their identities from the Blood Skrulls' (which is understandable if imo not the right way to handle it), and imo also because the genocide of other species isn't 'important' enough to be acknowledged. So if Teddy, the Great Uniter and King of Space, pushed for some kind of public acknowledgement of war crimes/crimes against humanity** committed by the two empires he'd inherited, what would the public reaction be? Whose feathers would be ruffled? Who would be supportive because it's the right thing to do, and who'd be supportive because of some other vested interest?

(also, irl there are international laws for crimes against humanity; would be interesting to see an intergalactic version of that, and the drafting of stricter protocols/policy research/establishing agencies and organizations that deal with investigating large-scale genocide and oppression etc... along with the political squabbles about jurisdictions and sovereignty that you see irl at UN and other international organizations)

Also, it seems like the only people in Teddy's court are him, Billy (Court Mage and Prince Consort), Lauri-ell (The Accuser/bodyguard) and Mur-G'nn (???), which seems a bit wack. You can't run a vast empire with so few people, and even if Teddy is mostly concerned with the affairs of Throneworld it's still really weird that there aren't more recurring characters at the Kree-Skrull court... I totally understand why K'lrt isn't serving the inner court—Teddy shouldn't have to see his mother's murderer day in and day out—but like. can we get a few more ministers on the roster????? I wish there's more opportunities to just see what a typical day on Throneworld is like, y'know? I'd kill for a miniseries that features normal citizens of the Kree/Skrull Alliance just living their life and doing their work, and the royal couple's adventures are only alluded to in the background.

(somewhat related, but i'm actually kind of ??? at Teddy being so okay with the fact that it's an empire that he's in charge of; I wish we got more of his thoughts on what he thinks about the natures of empires and monarchies in general, and his thoughts on institutional reforms etc. Struggles about what kind of king he wants to be has been brought up before, and his showdown with his grandma re:the nature of a successful ruler was pretty badass in Empyre... but being king means you have to approve or veto laws and policies, having to deal with paperwork and weighing advice from people who may or may not have the empire's best interest at heart etc etc. It means confronting the concept of absolute power in the hands of a ruling class determined by birth. It's a bit of a shame that they want the empire to be a thing in the worldbuilding, but don't really invest in developing the empire into a viable setting that feels real/lived in)

*tbf since we don't know the domestic laws of the Kree-Skrull Alliance or any intergalactic law regarding genocide/gross violations of the rights of sapient & sentient life, massacring the people responsible may be perfectly legal in the setting (and thus doesn't violate UN guidelines to the right of reparation, which I used as a baseline). It sucks that there wasn't a formal trial establishing the guilt of the responsible parties, though their guilt was informally established/treated as truth due to the nature of the classified info—the situation feels like executing someone without a formal trial, with all the evidence coming from a classified CIA record lmao (and this doesn't get into the issue of possible innocent blood skrulls—are all of them really guilty/responsible for genociding the monastic order in question? Whoooooo knoooooows!)

**they're aliens but you know what i mean

[rottingwaysofmisery]

For fans of Old School Death Metal

This post is to serve as a list of recommendations of niche or newer Old School Death Metal-esque bands, and what bands they’re most similar to.

Let me preface, if you’re looking for Cannibal Corpse you’re not going to get it. I like some Cannibal Corpse songs, but they’re not the kind of music that I want to get from Old School Death Metal (OSDM). You’re going to get a lot more stuff similar to Morbid Angel or Death because that’s mainly what I’m into.

I’m also going to mention themes here, which you may find confusing if you don’t pay attention to Death Metal’s themes but there’s something much more interesting to me about Death Metal that goes into mythology, history, or the occult, in the stead of the classic “Gore and Misogyny” that lazy Death Metal bands tend to do.

With that out of the way, here we go.

Gruesome - For Fans of early Death

American band done explicitly in the style of/in tribute to the band Death, with albums reminiscent of Leprosy or Spiritual Healing.

Sijjin - For Fans of Morbid Angel

A personal favorite of mine, this one has hooks and riffs for days. I found myself surprised to like this, as I had expected modern death metal bands to have nothing interesting in store, but this 2019-born band delivers just as well as any old Florida Death Metal band.

Atrocity - For Fans of the general Florida Death Metal scene

If you search this band up on Spotify, you’re most likely going to be greeted by their shitty cover albums. Yeah, in my opinion this band definitely fell off. I would, however, highly recommend their sophomore release “Todessehnsucht”. It even happens to feature a cover of a Death demo song, Archangel.

Perdition Temple - For Fans of Deicide and Morbid Angel

You’re in for a lot of Morbid Angel-type stuff, even though Death is my favorite band. This one isn’t necessarily just death metal though, as it’s sometimes labelled Black/Death Metal. Not in like, a war metal/bestial black metal kind of way though so don’t get your hopes up if you’re into that. I would personally recommend their first release the most, “Edict of the Antichrist Elect”.

Nile - For Fans of Morbid Angel

You might cry, “That’s not niche or new!”, but if I can get through to at least one Morbid Angel fan who just happens to not know about Nile, my job will be done. As the name suggests, this band thematically pertains to Egypt, particularly Ancient Egypt. I’ve never been a huge Nile fan, but of the few songs I do love I really love them.

Xenomorph - For Fans of Morbid Angel

Specifically, the American band that only released Empyreal Regimes in 1995. I really love the production on that album, something about the tone feels warm.

Angelcorpse - For Fans of Morbid Angel

If you love Morbid Angel but hate the groovier or slower parts, this band is for you. Personally, never been a big fan since I love the slower stuff from Morbid Angel, but you may love this.

Altars - For Fans of Morbid Angel

In direct contrast to the last band, here’s a bit of a groovier death metal band. Specifically, this the Altars that is an Australian Death Metal band that released “Paramnesia”.

Necronomicon - For fans of Morbid Angel

Canadian Death Metal band, I would specifically recommend “Pharoah of the Gods”, if you can get past all the unnecessary intros on multiple tracks at least. Generally, mid-paced sorta stuff.

Sentenced - For Fans of Death

They had a similar thing to Atrocity, except they went into rock music later on instead of just making covers. I would recommend their first album, Shadows of the Past, if you’re looking for that Florida Death Metal sound, and their second album if you’re looking for a more prog extreme metal sound. Anything beyond that I don’t like.

Mithras - For Fans of Morbid Angel

I would recommend specifically their album “Forever Advancing...... Legions”. It’s more on the groovy end of that Morbid Angel sound.

Scarab - For Fans of Morbid Angel (or Nile)

Excellent Egyptian Death Metal band, except this time actually from Egypt! I would highly recommend “Blinding the Masses”.

Coffin Texts - For Fans of Morbid Angel

A very underrated Death Metal band that is yet again, thematically about Ancient Egypt. If you’re tired of this theme, at least know it’s better than the alternative of just gore and femicide.

Nader Sadek - For Fans of Morbid Angel

Morbid Angel-esque riffing, sung over by one of the Morbid Angel singers, but oddly enough, about oil? I would recommend their excellent release from 2011, “In the Flesh”.

End of Recommendations

That’s all I have for now! If anyone has any suggestions I’d love to hear em, if you reply with a suitable band I might give em a listen and reblog this with more!

[studyofx]

We mentioned it on the podcast and we wanted to shout-out again a big congratulations to Empyre by @DanSlott & @Al_Ewing for winning GLAAD's 2021 Media Award for Outstanding Comic Book LGBTQ+ representation!

[ritunn]

Pathfinder's Forgotten Gods: Lady Taramyth, the Singing Flame

Last week we covered Uskyeria, the Saintly Slumberer, an Empyreal Lord with a bit of info that was focused on the protection of animals and dreams, so this week I updated another Empyreal Lord, this time the vulpinal, Lady Taramyth. In Pathfinder 1e we know Lady Taramyth is a vulpinal agathion Empyreal Lord who has a demiplane named the River of Nine Fires... and that's it! She was pretty much just mentioned in passing in Chronicles of the Righteous. So, let's see how we can take that and make something more!

Vulpinal Agathion from Pathfinder 2e by Paizo

So, what became of Lady Taramyth with this conversion? I decided to take the Singing Flame aspect and with some inspiration from a friend, casted her as a patron of campfire songs and operatic singers. I decided to combine this by aiming for a rising star story. Lady Taramyth was just a simple vulpinal who taught others song around campfire and sang tunes as she traveled Nirvana until she sang a song so beautiful while in Shelyn's realm of Bloomeadow that Shelyn essentially "sponsored" her to rise to full divinity as an Empyreal Lord.

This is where we took the one thing we know about Lady Taramyth: she has a demiplane named the River of Nine Fires. Here I expanded on this by essentially making it an opera house, one where Lady Taramyth hosts an operatic play called the Ballad of Flaming Virtue performed by the celestial realm's best performers, including herself! She then invites upcoming artists and others who've earned her favor to inspire in a magical dream-like viewing of the ballad.

Despite this, she still visits the Material Plane regularly between the yearly performance and watches over campers who gave her her start. Making her the patron of campfire song and campfires in general! If you ever see a fiery red fox or a dashing kitsune woman with a sword cane in hand, perhaps Lady Taramyth has decided to pay you a visit.

Lady Taramyth makes for a great deity choice for Bards (especially as a Maestro muse), but also Flame Order Druids, Rangers, Flames Mystery Oracles, or for entertainers and Kitsune in general. Clerics and Champions of Lady Taramyth are likely performers themselves and wear opera dresses and suits when not donned in armor, though they're certainly all aspiring vocalists and can be found anywhere singers are in demand. Followers of Lady Taramyth often choose the Celebrity or Dandy archetypes, each allowing them to impress crowds or get to the main event where they'll always shine. Folklorist is also a popular choice for those inclined to tell cultural stories with song. Lastly, the Bard multiclass archetype isn't uncommon among them, though they almost always specialize in vocal performances with instrumentation mixed in with a preference towards those that can make use of their powerful lungs.

Next week we'll likely continue our conversion of other agathion Empyreal Lords like Lady Taramyth and Uskyeria. Until then, may the Singing Flame inspire you too!

[lndslorepuzzler]

World Underneath: Snowy Stairs

01: Die In Spring: Carter is at a meeting at Xander Sciences. He is derisive of Li Shen's choice to accept a hospital employment offer. There is a flashback to Carter and Li Shen saving the life of an elderly man in a construction zone. After the ambulance left, the two of them spent the night talking about the ethics of applying Protocore technology to revive dead cells. Li Shen left, and the two of them did not talk again. Flashing forward, Carter waits at Empyreal Ring Park (formerly the construction site) because he knows Li Shen will take his morning jog in this direction. He overhears Li Shen explaining to a small child that the stray dog can't come back to life, and inserts himself into the conversation. Li Shen basically tells him to fuck off.

.

02: Yesterday Once More: Carter attempts to draw Li Shen into an argument/power struggle about bringing the dead back to life and it's moral implications. Li Shen is obviously disgusted. Carter mentions Cabin 607: the patient is abnormal. // "Take a look, Doctor Li. It won't violate your medical ethics."

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03: Undying Tree: The surgery for Cabin 607 failed. Li Shen did not go to help, and only arrives after the fact. Carter has named the project Li Shen quit from X-Heart. Li Shen mentions William's death at Mt. Eternal. He also tells Carter that his tactics are going to get him arrested. Carter argues with Li Shen, claiming "we." Li Shen tells him 'there is no we,' and 'you're crazy.'

04: Gone: Li Shen has a few minutes alone with the patient from Cabin 607; he restores the presumably ruined body to a clean, intact state for their grieving parents.

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05: Snow Depth: Li Shen takes a position at Akso Hospital. Carter antagonizes him with the patient from Cabin 607. There is a photo of the patient with a cluster of black crystal growing from the left side of his chest. Carter considers Li Shen's reasons for becoming a doctor, and accepting the position at Akso; he suspects it's because of a girl. He intends to find her and use her as a trump card against Li Shen.

05: Coda: As if time and space intertwined, Carter's indignant voice rings in his ears and questions him once more. "Wouldn't you use everything in your power to prevent your loved ones from dying?" Of course he would. Li Shen answered this question countless times in his heart. And no matter how many years have passed, his answer still hasn't changed. He would do everything he could to prevent her death and save her. But the night is long. The fog is dense... If the end of the road is truly what's left... Li Shen closes his eyes. At least, he still has another option. His last one. And before the storm arrives, he only hopes he can walk a little further on this rugged path. He could also hold her hand and resist the avalanche-like onslaught of wishes together.