#at least soon to be devotee

[pomegranatehymns]

I plan to start veiling for some of the goddesses I worship/ am (soon to be) devoted to, and I find it very amusing because it's Hera, Aphrodite, Persephone, and then her husband Haides.

So it's the ladies and the haides, lol.

Just sounds funny when I say it in my head.

I plan on getting a tattoo for Persephone and haides to show my devotion and a ritual before I consider myself an official devote. As like a grand show of devotion, but I feel like they already get special treatment lol.

They have the biggest area of my alter and are the first of the gods I started to worship, so they are very important to me. And dedicating veiling to them feels like a good first step in the devotion process.

Also I feel like ive had more of a connection with hera and aphrodite recently and want to work more with them and goddesses in general.

I've worked more with some of the gods and want to work with some ladies/goddesses right now. i I think veiling for Hera and Aphrodite feels like the right direction to go worship wise.

[dumbification]

my aeon ft. boothill

summary: when he wants to cherish the moment to hold you in his arms.. boothill's devotion and adoration for you is endless, you'll never hear the end of it... (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) !!

cw: boothill x fem!reader, body worship, reader has scars (interpret it any way), you're both touch starved, u just wanna get to the point.. iykwim ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) softcore smut?? or highly suggestive.

“so pretty, baby.” boothill’s voice hummed through your skin, sending shivers down your spine. he went on and suckled at the sensitive skin of your neck—he made sure it would leave marks. he was always an expert at making you squirm, he knew just how to make you long for his touch.

he started to trail kisses down your body, pausing to give your breasts a gentle squeeze. an erotic moan escaped from your lips. he smirked. “the aeons must’ve blessed me, sugar.” he raised his head for a moment to cherish you in all your beauty. “heck. you might as well be an aeon. look at yerself..” 

he laid down to rest on your chest for a while. his mechanical heart’s beating adjusted to yours, syncing in patterns. “boothill..” he knew you longed for something more, but he insisted on relishing in your warmth—at least for now. he enjoyed tracing circles on your abdomen, hearing your breath hitch.

he went back to work and trailed kisses down your lower body, purposely avoiding your intimate area. he stopped at your inner thighs, his face shifting into a frown. “ya got new ones?” his cold thumb gently brushed over your scars—old and new. your eyes averted his in fear of being lectured. 

“ya know i ain’t gonna be mad, darlin’.” he pressed loving kisses against your scars. you felt something pulse and throb. your hunger for him grew. you spread your legs, trying to send him a message. he ignored this, and trailed kisses back up—all the way to your lips.

he looked you up and down, his lips ghosting your own. his hands had a firm grip on your waist, ready to devour you. you made the first move, he soon followed—crashing against your plump, soft lips. you hesitated at first, but introduced your tongue to his. you loved making the first move, whenever you had the chance.

boothill always wanted to enjoy the moment, taking things slow to truly indulge in you. on the other hand, you were quite impatient, you wanted to get to the point. he usually attempted to convince you that the reward would be even greater if you were patient.

his tongue traced over your face, leading to your ear. he left a clean stripe of saliva—it wasn’t hot nor cold. “tell me what ya want, pretty lady.” he was teasing you. a soft moan crept through your mouth when he gently nipped at your ear lobe. his teeth were awfully sharp.

“please..” you were this close to crying. you don’t take teasing lightly, boothill usually gave you what you wanted. he never, ever said no to you. that doesn’t mean he can’t play games another way. “please, what?” a string of curses slowly slipped out of you. his husky voice only turned you on. he could hear you sniffle.

“‘m sorry, baby. no more games.” you heard his pant unbuckle, you audibly sighed. his belt collapsed to the floor as he carelessly tossed it around. you could tell he was hungry for you, too.

“what does my aeon want from her devotee tonight?”

[chocoqtelle]

𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝﹕𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 ♡

you may be called to multiple piles, that's perfectly fine ! remember that not every message may resonate. take what resonates and leave the rest. tarot is not completely certain and things may change. do not use tarot as a replacement for professional advice. divider credit to @sister-lucifer

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄

okayyyy 🤭 seems like someone's self focused right now. you're dodging these desperate mfs and focusing on your finances. you oughta give yourself more credit for that at least. choosing attention from yourself over attention from others is rough. and it's clearly paying off because you are GLOWING. if you've been getting more attention that's why. you're looking better than ever right now. you don't need anyone to take care of you... but if you want that then there's plenty of options. you don't even have to put effort in. it's all self concept. as long as you acknowledge how perfect you are and what you deserve, you'll get exactly that. you've been working hard, clearing out old patterns, all that. so why would you be shocked that things are going well/going to go well? you deserve that! you worked your ass off to get to this point and you act like you didn't sometimes. whatever help you may have got wasn't near as much as you put into yourself. reap your rewards with no shame. this is your well deserved prize.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐎

"i don't know if i want her or her" energy. you got options for just about everything. you're in that empress mode (regardless of gender dw.) you're pouring into your creative talents and you're doing great. keep expressing yourself, don't worry about what's weird! it's fun! that's what matters. you could have some annoying exes/haters and honestly just take it as an ego boost. they're obsessed with you for a reason. but isn't everyone? you don't have to worry about anyone. grabbing for scraps of stardust when you're the star is the life they chose. you, however, have an unlimited source and you should enjoy it. if you're thinking of going bigger with your creative talents/career. you definitely should. you have the talent whether you wanna admit it or not. "what if I fail?" then you can try again or move on. your life won't be over. what if you win? believe in yourself more. believe you'll make it regardless of what happens. if you're worried about money, let it go. god/the universe/spirit guides/ancestors/whatever applies will take care of it. just trust things will work and opportunities will reach you soon. you could have that perfect duality too is what I'm hearing. geek girl vibes (it's on Netflix still, I think.)

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

the body is BODYINGGGGG. if you don't know that, you must be blind. and don't start talking about some "but hip dips 😖 but tummy but-" nobody in real life cares about that. if it's your body, it's nice and loveable by default. you're like the "airport girl" phenomenon where people see the prettiest person ever at a random place then never see them again and they're just haunted by their beauty. you're probably resting right now but make sure you're not rotting. it's good to still take care of yourself. I don't know if you're insecure or not, but if you are I will personally come through the screen and yell at you (affectionately.) because you are so gorgeous. pinterest level pretty. moodboard pretty. poetry pretty. you could have people writing like "her bosoms jiggled gracefully in the wind like hanging grapes." 😭 being pretty is one thing but being kindhearted on top is just extra. sweet and pretty??? fine you win 😒 save some beauty for the rest of us. you could also be an Aphrodite devotee or benefit from reaching out to her :)

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧ ₊˚・︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧ ₊˚・

[gloriousburden]

Okay Loki would never lower his standards enough to consider being romantically involved with a human, but I’m thinking heavily about being devoted to him with romantic undertones to our dynamic 😞😞😞😞😞😞😞 warning Very self indulgent Loki would Sooooo want me AU imagines don’t take it too seriously

[ He begins. “I am in need of-”

“Yes, anything.” You cut him off.

“You could at the very least allow me to finish.” He responds. ]

🫡 anything for him

[ “You’d do well to remember that your entire being is flawed, and that at all times, you are beneath me. If you choose to do anything at all with your fleeting, and quite insignificant life, you should choose to spend it obeying me. You are nothing more than an ant beneath my boot. You were made to be ruled, and you are lost without my guidance. You have no purpose other than to kneel before me. You are nothing in the grand scheme of things. Blah blah blah, submission, you are insignificant, I have authority over you, I’m better, you suck, more kneeling, more degradation and belittling, etc…” He goes on, and on, and on.

“Understood.” You nodded, and accepted… all of it.

He Very politely leans down to kiss your cheek, immediately after all of that. “Good.” ]

[ “Do you know how tiresome it is to be a god such as myself, having to look after you all the time? You are so, so very careless. You have no regard for your own well-being, and it is a burden on me.” He berated you.

“All I said was I accidentally sprained my wris-” You began to clarify.

“You are clumsy, and pathetic. You take my guidance and protection for granted.” He cuts you off. He knows what happened, and he doesn’t like it. No matter how minor it is.

He is worried about his beloved mortal, and disguises it with insults. He knows that you could be taken away from him at any moment, and it hurts more than he’d like to admit. That’s why he’s so overbearing in moments like these. Oh, mortals and their fleeting lifespans..

“Now, let me see.” He gets fed up, and grabs your wrist a little carelessly.

You whimper and wince in pain in response. Your wrist is still sore from the minor injury.

As soon as he hears you make that noise, he looks at you like he just committed the worst act possible. Like accidentally stepping on a dog’s tail. I guess he did see you as that helpless.

After that, he did not berate you (about this specific injury) again. He kept an eye on your wrist, and how it was healing. He’s quite caring for a “cruel” god who dislikes humans. ]

(This could also be… AU Loki searches for affection in the human devotee who is very much in love with him, that he sort of took in and found himself in a dynamic with. He is a bit more merciful than he lets on.)

*Insert kneeling and other fun devoted stuff hereeeee maybe I’ll add more to this later but it lives in my head for now*

[chuunai]

Hi there! I hope you're having a good day 💗💗. If possible, could you please do how the Bsd men would react to having a popular singer s/o? They could be like Robin from Hsr. If you don't know her, that's fine!

I believe Chuuya would buy your albums as soon as they're released and get VIP seats every single time. He would make sure to attend your concerts, no matter what.

Dazai would be like this:

chuuya ! buys VIP tickets the moment they come out. he doesn’t care you said he can get a free seat, the money goes to support you and your career. when the flow of your voice overtakes him, he’s awestruck by everything. the energetic dances, the sheen and shine of your costume and just you.

chuuya ! forces the mafia’s cafeteria to forever keep on loop your music during lunch hours. every single member of can recite both the oath to the organization and every song you’ve ever released. for every day of the week, it’s one of your albums or collaborations with other critically acclaimed musicians.

chuuya ! reminds you to take care of yourself. his girl can’t sing with a sleep-riddled voice, nor can she possibly dance with such sore feet, can she? no, you can’t, and so he smothers his care onto you. making healthy and delicious meals that your nutritionist approves of, running a hot bath filled with strawberry scented bubbles and a plate of fruit nearby. and of course, making honey laden tea for your throat to better aid your vocal cords.

chuuya ! has at least four of his most experienced and talented men guarding you when you’re out in public openly. stalkers and other obsessive fans are a common occurrence in your life, and he always has nightmares about someone kidnapping you or god forbid, killing you. an idol has to be protected, and he doesn’t trust anyone but himself to make sure you’re safe.

chuuya ! helps you make album covers and song lyrics. he’s seen so much in his life, and pouring out his story into a seamless chorus of melodies resonated to him. your album covers are always quite elaborate too—whatever you need, he can get it within a day. all he wants to see is your career flourish and for your bright smile to encourage the ones who are stuck in a limbo, just like how he was before you pulled him out from the abyss.

dazai ! runs your biggest fan account. countless glamorized edits and paragraphs that praise you as the ‘best singer in the world’. sometimes if you allow it, he uploads short videos recording your shared karaoke nights. your devotees can easily tell the different between your and his voices—one perfect and akin to orpheus, and the other screeching about suicide.

dazai ! infamously also doxes your haters on a separate and well hidden account. sadly, he’s one of the main contributors to why your fanbase has a reputation for being vicious and overly aggressive towards people who don’t like you. he thinks they deserve it though. you go through so much darkness, and negative comments don’t need to make you cry even more.

dazai ! keeps a shrine dedicated to you in the corner of the living room. merch, posters, vinyls and more are neatly arranged on shelves and small tables. not even a single speck of dust taints the sacred space. his wallet cries at how thin and malnourished it is, begging for even an ounce of yen, but his heart is full with pure adoration for you.

dazai ! sends akutagawa to your concerts when kunikida doesn’t let him go due to dozens of missing work assignments and orders. if he can’t go in person, he’ll watch from facetime and babble about you into the phone while akutagawa gets the perfect angle and view using rashomon. and when you shout out his name as your muse at the end of the performance, he melts into a pile of mushy lovesick goo.

dazai ! thinks his biggest achievement is being your muse. the thought that he’s the inspiration for some of your biggest songs and lyrics makes him want to be the best boyfriend he can be. he’s no demon prodigy, no suicidal maniac or womanizer. he’s just a heavenly muse destined to help steer you on the right track with his heart in your hands.

Tags:

@twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts, @starrs20, @little-miss-chaoss, @secretlyagoblin, @broken-spirit101, @briarbabyxo

[sink-me-in-your-ocean]

Just a Quick(ie) Change

Papa Copia x gn!Reader smut

WC: 3100

A/N: I think I blacked out when I wrote this at 2am. This one is for @endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus - thank you for spamming me with pics of Copia’s amazing thighs.

Content warnings: oral sex m!receiving. 18+ only. Minors DNI.

NSFW below the cut.

Hired as a quick-change assistant, you didn’t expect much from the job backstage for Papa Emeritus IV.

You never expected, one, that you’d actually enjoy your job, and two, that the two other assistants would quit right before a tour. 

It was much too close to the start of the ritual tour to hire someone on the spot. Sister Imperator always had the last word, and since the clergy was thousands of miles away from her at the moment, it was an inopportune time to be short-staffed. Papa required many, many intricate costume changes during rituals. Usually, these changes required at least six additional hands, but at least for the next several shows you’d have to make do with just your two.

It was down to you and him when he’d come backstage. Sometimes another member of the crew would bring him refreshments while the nameless ghouls stalled on stage, riffing and whatnot, but mostly it was just the two of you. This led to witty banter, goofy little mishaps, and the like. Some accidents even led to flirtatious jokes between you two as you quickly warmed to each other.

Papa rushed offstage, clutching the front of his trousers. Holding back a laugh, you couldn’t resist asking, “Are your pants falling off or are you just eager to see me?”

He put his hand to his heart, exclaiming a word in Italian before inhaling in a dramatic gasp. “My button popped off.”

You knew his button came off while he was performing - you had a small live monitor in your closet - coloring you thoroughly impressed by the movements of his hips. You had the cheesy line and a needle, thread, and replacement for the offending button prepared as soon as you saw it happen. 

The laugh you shared together wasn’t the first, and certainly would not be the last of the evening. You couldn’t place why it brought you so much joy to just make him smile in between sets. It was a moment of complete and utter glee in the midst of the madness that went into each ritual.

Zippers got caught, shoes were left untied, robes were wrinkled, the whole nine. It was like Murphy’s Law backstage sometimes… anything that could go wrong, would go wrong. 

On the second night of your solo adventure, in the middle of a particularly intricate change involving his Dracopia bat wings, Papa said something to you that would keep your mind stirring the entire night. He was on a high from the opening of the show, beaming at you from the moment he saw you, but this… this was different.

“I enjoy our time together, you know.”

“What?” Your focus was on the second, most stubborn, buckle as you stood in front of him. The harness couldn’t lace itself up so you kept working, your fingers nimbly adjusting as he kept speaking.

“Well, it’s just that I’m used to so many people poking and prodding me, shoving me this way and that, just going through the motions.” He paused, tilting his head to listen for his cue coming up before he continued, “But with you this is different, I feel like I’m actually getting a break instead of just being rushed around like a…how do they say... chicken with its head cut off.”

You finished the last buckle, securing it in place and patting his arm as you were utterly lost for words. His sentiment cut through you like a blade, but was as soft as a feather pillow. 

He turned on his heel as he walked away, but paused and looked over his shoulder, winking at you before walking back on stage. The crowd of devotees screamed and you stood alone in the dark, accompanied only by the mass of butterflies in your stomach. 

The rest of the night went by as usual, but somehow smoother than expected. The stolen glances between you and Papa were more heated, and held more weight than before. Neither one of you crossed that threshold that night though; You refused to be the first one to take this - whatever this is - to the next level.

The next show you were alone, yet once more. Sister Imperator unsurprisingly didn’t like any of the candidates that had applied for the position, not deeming them ‘good enough’ to work with Copia. She never called him Papa, you noticed. 

Sister was doing her best to assuage you while simultaneously making your head hurt. She was always kind to you for some unknown reason, but tonight she was truly laying it on thick, “… but you, my dear, are a diamond in the rough. You’ll have to shine on your own just a little longer.”

The video call glitched, her word’s temporarily interrupted by a bad connection as she said something else.

“I’m sorry, would you repeat that? It sounded like you said it’s just going to be me for the rest of the week.”

“Oh no, I didn’t say that.” The video finally stabilized. You sighed in relief before she continued. “I said you’ll be on your own for the rest of the tour.”

Your face fell. It felt like a two-ton weight was placed on your chest, or that you were shoved in a truck, locked in, and the key was thrown away. 

No help? Seriously?

She noted your facial expression before you could reel yourself in. “Don’t worry my dear, we will compensate you more for the lack of help you have, but at least I know that my - cough - er, the Cardinal, will be happy in your capable hands.”

You tried to hide your dismay, “O-Kay.”

“I’ve got to run off now little one, try to make the best out of it, alright?”

“I promise, Sister, thank you.”

You sighed again, to no one this time and not out of relief. To be on your own the rest of the tour seemed, in practice, too much. You had only done two shows solo and the limited sanity you had was already wearing thin. Suddenly, you had a strange thought that warmed your body: if you’re the only one then that means more time for you and Papa to get to know each other. 

Your traitorous heart gave a squeeze. More time alone with him couldn’t possibly be a bad thing… could it?

Perhaps? Perhaps not. But you could certainly think of many, many bad things to do.

One week later 

Your heart was pounding as you did your final checks. Everything tonight was going to run perfectly. 

The first change went to plan, then the next. Every second that passed with the two of you in each other's vicinity felt like an eternity. Your own personal hell of stolen glances and small comments. Of shallow breaths and lingering touches. 

“Is this new?” He nodded to your night-black long-sleeved dress. All-black was the dress code for backstage crew so tonight you’d opted for a racy mini dress and long black stockings to cover your legs up to the thigh. Only a salacious inch of skin showed between the garments, and Papa couldn’t resist peeking. 

Flattered that he noticed, you blushed, “Yes, it is.” You straightened his robes, ensuring the easily-wrinkled fabric lay perfectly in its place. 

“I’d like to see it off you later.” He reached with one gloved hand and ran two fingers along the visible skin of your thigh, making you tremble with want. It felt like the little room turned into a furnace, just from that.

Quick as a flash he grabbed his prop from your open palm before you could react and darted back out to the stage, leaving you in shock with the realization that he wants you just as badly as you want him. 

You pace back and forth, setting everything out for the next change. At one point the stage manager pops in, asks you if you need anything and you assure them that you’re good. 

There’s only one person who can give you what you need.

As soon as the cue hits for him to exit your palms tingle in anticipation. Your eyes lit up as you saw him, stripping him out of the floor-length robe immediately to get started on the next change. But Papa had other ideas.

His gloved hands grabbed you firmly, one on your jaw and the other at your waist to pull you into a deep and sensuous kiss. You felt the electricity between you buzz from your lips down to your toes. Your body responded before you truly realized what was happening, and you kissed him back with equivalent enthusiasm. 

He growled as you parted your lips to dart your tongue out, grazing his teeth once before going back on the next kiss to taste his tongue. You moaned, greedily, taking in a deep breath through your nose to inhale his bouquet of fragrant cologne and hair products. It felt like the two of you were kissing with the need of long-lost lovers, reunited after a decade of time. He grabbed and groped at your body, pulling you closer as though he never wanted to let you go.

You did your best not to be too handsy with him in return, as you didn’t want to fuck up his costume.

Fuck! His costume!

The head-spinning thrill of the kiss made him miss his cue to go back on stage, both of you too caught up in the passion of the moment to feel the world around you. You broke the kiss and violently threw items at him to put on. Luckily this change was one of the easier ones, but it never looked good for Papa to delay his return to the stage.

The stage manager came in again, “Everything alright in there?”

“Yes! Just a stubborn zipper again!” You laughed breathily to cover up your anxious flitting about while Papa stayed silent. 

“Alright, well, hurry it along, the ghouls are going to start eating each other out there if not.” They sounded less than pleased before cutting back out of the tiny room.

“Heard.” You replied curtly, not in the mood to have your moment ruined any further. 

“I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a dickhead,” your breath caught in your chest. Did he regret the kiss? “You have a little, er, smudge.” He motioned towards his lip.

You looked in the mirror beside you, hells below, he was right! You had black makeup from him smudged all over. 

He giggled his way back out, leaving you furiously rubbing at your lips and chin, your face fully flushed with embarrassment.

By the next quick change, you two had a pattern working perfectly. 

First, change out of the previous costume.

Second, put the next one on.

Third, and most importantly, spend any and all remaining seconds kissing each other like giddy teenagers.

You both became a desperate mess of hands, lips, and teeth. You even picked up a few new tricks: one of which being that you could tie his tie exceedingly well while he had his tongue in your mouth. You got a little too handsy now, stroking him through his pants as his hands gripped your rear. Feeling him growing with every motion was spurring you on, making you almost delirious with need.

“I’ll see you shortly.” He exhaled heavily, palming the front of his pants to adjust the placement of his dick. It was adorable how he was going to go out there like this, pantomiming that nothing had transpired, but you were fine with it, it was a little game.

“I’ll be waiting.” You called after him.

The longest break in the show was up next, and you already knew what to do. You were on your knees before he finished the song, his cue to move backstage for his change came and when he saw you he stopped in his tracks. 

“Don’t just stand there now, come over here and let me taste you.” Your bold words seemed to almost miss him, as he looked to be in a trance. He soon snapped out of it, taking a few steps to you and closing the distance. 

He stroked your hair, “You don’t have to do this right now, we can wait until later.”

His suggestion was tempting but unnecessary, you were committed to this. “I gave you a problem, and I want to take care of it for you. May I?” You pleaded up at him and his mouth dropped open.

“Yes. Fuck, please.”

With his explicit permission you went to work. It was well-known that Papa went commando on stage. However, this didn’t make it any less difficult for you to peel the “rat-eaten” black pants off of him. His sweat combined with the stiff, unforgiving tightness of the trousers and made it quite difficult for you to wrench him from the tight fabric. 

You wrestled the fabric down, exposing the very tops of his delicious thighs and in the middle, his magnificent thick cock sprung forth. Your mouth watered at the sight, so long and hard, how you wanted - no - needed to taste him. 

You wet your lips, looking up at him and not wanting to waste any more time as you pressed your tongue lightly to the underside of the hot tip. You flicked your tongue to the very end, where a bead of pre-cum was leaking out. 

Tasting him stirred something within you that made your insides clench. You wanted so much more than just to give him a sloppy blow job in the stage right closet at a ritual. But this would have to do for now. 

The salt of his sweat on your tongue was like a drug to you, and you needed more of everything. You impaled yourself on his length, gagging obscenely as you took as much of him into your mouth as possible. 

He groaned as you sucked at him, your tongue working to massage the underside of his shaft. You bobbed your head back and forth, one of your hands coming up to follow the motion of your mouth. It slid back and forth easily, the copious amount of spit already coating his length made for ideal lubrication.

Your other hand steadied yourself by gripping his exposed thigh, squeezing the flesh lightly, your fingertips satisfied just by touching his bare skin. You felt your arousal again, a pulse at the apex of your legs thrumming to almost fierce levels. Fuck, you wanted to put one of your hands between your own legs, but right now, your focus was solely on Papas pleasure.

He exhaled with a ‘ha��� sound, another groan making its way out through his clenched teeth. You felt one of his hands curl itself through your hair, pulling slightly to get your attention.

You looked up at him, and you were so turned on by the sight. Papa’s face was contorted in lustful indulgence. Some of his hair plastered itself to his forehead while other pieces stuck out at the sides as though he had been running his fingers through the salt-and-pepper strands. You made a quick mental note to fix it before he went back on stage. 

He pulled again at your hair and you removed your mouth from him, although your hand continued to work, stroking up and down his entire shaft. 

“Fuck my mouth Papa.” The words in your desire-filled heart spoke themselves aloud.

He growled, “Open up.”

You did exactly as you were told, moving both hands now to his thighs as he readjusted his grip on your hair. The music was changing, the instrumental interlude was almost to an end. Your mouth opened wide and you got your wish.

Papa fucked your mouth as though the success of the ritual depended on it. He wasted no time pressing his impressive length into your mouth and throat as far as it could go. Your gag reflex was being obliterated with each thrust of his hips forwards. After several quick, punishing blows to your throat it finally relaxed. You were at his mercy, and mercy, he was not pulling any punches.

Tears stained your cheeks, an ache started in your jaw, and your facial muscles tensed. The pressure, the pain was all made worth it as you looked up through bleary eyes to see Papa. His chest shuddered with every breath. His heterochromatic eyes watched you and his eyebrows were knit together. Papa's mouth hung open and dirty remarks, expletives, and guttural sounds of pleasure sputtered out. 

“Look at you, so wanton, so needy for my cock that you’ll kneel before me.”

You hummed in response, pressing your thighs together to try to gain even a slight bit of friction between them. 

It could have been the vibrations from your hum that put him over the edge, or maybe it was that he knew he had to get back out there, but his grasp in your hair tightened. Your scalp flashed in white hot pain as he cried out in one final thrust and painted the back of your throat with hot, heavy spurts of his release.

You swallowed greedily, not wanting a single drop to be missed as he pulled out of your mouth and moved to quickly pull his pants back up. He knelt down unexpectedly, and you met his gaze. His gloved hands wiped the tears from your cheeks as he leaned forward and kissed you on your swollen lips.

“Grazie, mi amore, I shall return the favor after the show.”

With one final caress to your cheek with his hand, he stood, pulling his bright, glittering jacket on one arm at a time. You watched, rosy-cheeked and soft-eyed as he straightened his clothes, checking himself out in the mirror. Of course he looked over everything except his hair.

You snapped out of your lightheaded stupor with a second of time to remain, shooting to your feet, “Wait!”

He turned towards you and you wiped your damp hands on your thigh-highs before reaching up to smooth his soft hair back into place. You covered his eyes and with your dominant hand snagged the miniature can of hairspray out of your stash of supplies to fix everything back in place. 

You’d be damned if you didn’t do your job. 

Papa grabbed you by your collar once you dropped your hands, kissing you once more before heading back on stage. The scent of hairspray, his cologne, and sweat created a haze for you to dream in, thinking of the implications of his words from earlier.

You couldn’t wait for him to return the favor.

[emperorundying]

TLT Dashboard Simulator- Pt 5

💀 drearybruh Follow

10,000 y/o lyctor gf who exclusively calls me 'lovey': Ugh they're still debating the ethics of using cavaliers as a resource to suck dry, I can't deal with this empire today.

me [heard 'suck dry cavaliers' and got so hard i got nauseous]: I think I hauve devils in me

(2,710 notes)

🫁 soulosexualll

omg guys im so sorry ive been MIA!!! the alexandrite id been talking about won custody over our baby so i had a bit of a crisis about my future on the fifth house alone and loved only by the spirits. and then of course i visit the third over vacation and get roped into a multi-week bender [have u ever snorted dried marrow? life changing] and then i was lost on the third for likeeeee four days and had to find my way back through hitchhiking and bartering with my own blood.

but i promise ill update my Joy/Patience/Duty threesome fic soon :333

#rpf #munposting #EEEEEEE GET EXCITED GUYS #joy strap time? joy strap time.... #i see ur messages in the askbox and i super appreciate them btw but i cant justify answering all of them #BUT I SEE U AND I LOVE U <33

(42 notes)

🦴 skeletal-system-bracket

SKELETAL SYSTEM BRACKET ROUND 3 GROUP A

We had two ties last round [within a margin of error of .1%!!] , so we decided it would make the most sense to make this a four-way poll. Propaganda:

Occipital Bone: do you want an unprotected cerebellum??? the infernal surface is groovy af, and all the nuchal lines are actually goated. are u seriously going to look me in the eyes and tell me the three-part bone of all time [father son and holy spirit, anyone?] can even be stepped to by some normie basic bone shit???????? cmon..... [via. @skullfuckbonegod]

Fibula: VOTE FIBULA!!!! bone with a best friend <3 Tibia already got out round 1 so its ur legal duty to stand up for its legbestie... also my hounds r named Fibula and Tibia and theyre adorbsies [via. @sodiumradiation]

Thoracic Vertibrae: twelve bones. twelve bones, one combined goal: fuck shit up, take names, keep that back backing. least commonly injured part of the spine for a reason. its built different. this shit protects ur spinal cord, provides attachments to your ribs, supports your chest and abdomen, and literally lets yr body move. objective best bones. [via. @ithinkthereforisam]

Scalpula: Scapula sweep!! Those are your angel wings. Watching your Cavs shoulder blades move under their skin while they carry a big sword is the best part of being a necro. They're also just such a good plane of bone they're perfect for breaking up into little pieces for bone adepts to store in their pockets. Also the attachment point for a bunch of muscles!!and the yummy little joint cavity… [via. @kavkisser]

#polls #tumblr polls #skeletal system #tibia #fibula #vertebrae #scalpula

(450 notes)

📷 devoutofmymind Follow

ARE YOU GUYS SERIOUS WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE EMPEROR HASN'T COMMENTED ON HIS FIRST AND SECOND'S SAINTS DISAPPEARANCES

📷 devoutofmymind Follow

For my Edenite followers this is like if gun disappeared

#ARE THEY DEAD??? #Bro r we upping the fascism factor #STAFF THAT TAG IS A JOKE. I WOULD NEVER DREAM OF INSURGENCY

12,345 notes

🫀 gorewanker Follow

I swear they're like the septum piercing havers of cavaliering 😭😭😭

🦀 xx-0ct0g0ne-xx Follow

Ah. So you're unable to handle the pressures which are expected of the average Eighth House devotee, and as such, fall back upon insecure insults. Get a life + Praying for you + L.

(923 notes)

👤 boobmonger-deactivated-2917220

holy shit tower prince announcement this is crazy. liveblog time

👤 boobmonger-deactivated-2917220

TRANSMASC AWE??????????

(3,891 notes)

🦷 bitingyoubitingyoubitingyoubitingyoux3 Follow

(14,088 notes)

☠️ is-the-emperor-undying-d34d-yet Follow

NOT YET BUT WE ALWAYS COME BACK

[serendipityandbenevolence]

SAGAU Reader (GN) x Tighnari

Hey. So. I know I ghosted this account for like a year, but guess what, I'm inspired today. Hope this is okay, I wrote it while very sleep-deprived

Contains - you kinda being an awful person and discarding people as you please, tighnari becoming slowly more devoted and obsessive over you as it goes on, slight gore, neuvillette replacing tighnari at the end, this is incredibly specific to my experience of having tighnari in game and is based around if he had feelings regarding that

Tighnari was beginning to hate Gandharva Ville.

If he had been told that even one year ago, he would have laughed, unable to believe that the place he called home could cause him such … disdain.

But that was before you.

He had known, of course, about your arrival in Teyvat. Everyone did, it was all they could talk about for months on end. Whispers travelled about the vision holders who were called by the stars, who felt compelled to follow you to the ends of the earth. But that was of no concern to  Tighnari. You had never stepped foot into Sumeru, had never even called the holder of a Dendro vision to follow you. 

He adored you, as any loyal subject would, but the idea of leaving his home didn’t really appeal to him. Tighnari was content with worshipping from afar. 

At least, that’s what he thought.

It was inevitable, thinking back on it, that you would come to Sumeru. There are only so many nations and the scholars at the Akademiya were becoming restless at your apparent lack of interest in visiting their beloved nation. 

Tighnari had watched curiously when you first arrived in Gandharva Ville, with 4 devotees at your beck and call. He found, looking back, that he could barely recall who you had favoured at that point in time, who was granted the privilege of protecting you. Perhaps it was that gentleman from Mondstadt, with the flaming red hair and blood-coated blade? Or the Tianquan of Liyue, with her endless supplies of Mora merely a snap of the finger away? It didn’t particularly matter. They were not in your favour now.

He remembered how Collei had wept with joy when you named her as your first devotee from Sumeru. She was discarded quickly enough by you, but the joy that privilege had ignited within her still seemed to linger, even now. When you embraced Collei that day, her tears staining your silken shirt, he had met your eyes for the first time.

Tighnari wasn’t really certain what he would see in your eyes. Benevolence, godliness, serenity?

Greed was not what he expected.

The way you eyed him, gaze flicking to his vision, his ears, his tail. You stared at him, the way a child would stare at a new toy, and you smiled.

Tighnari really shouldn’t have been surprised when you called him to serve you. 

The golden stars falling from the sky, the sudden weakness that overcame his body, the portal you had pulled him through. It had seemed unreal, like a nightmare he hoped he would wake from soon.

The weakness had faded as you gave him odd gifts and trinkets, flowers and gemstones, smiling giddily as you told him about how excited you were to have him join your team. With his final gift strapped to his back, an intricate bow that more closely resembled a harp than a weapon, you took him to meet his new companions. 

He was grateful to have Nahida alongside him, a small taste of home, even when he travelled behind you on foreign soil. The Mondstadt girl, Fischl, was strange, but he could not deny her usefulness in battle, especially when she called upon that unsettling bird of hers. And Zhongli was … quiet. He did not speak much to Tighnari, or Nahida, or Fischl. Fischl mentioned once that he was one of your very first devotees and he had never left your side since that day.

He had seen many subjects lose favour with you, but like the rock he commanded, he stayed, unchanging. 

Tighnari was beginning to wish that he too, could be like rock. 

He had followed you across nations, into other dimensions, where the sky stretched for an eternity and the ground fell off into endless darkness. He had slayed countless enemies, stained his hands with blood a thousand times, and never once complained. When he was granted the time to return to Gandharva Ville, he found it … dull. His duties had been given to someone else, so his hours were spent recounting stories of you to engrossed onlookers. He would describe the most insignificant details about you as he stared into the distance and prayed that you would call him back soon.

He had given everything in service for you.

And yet…

You stared up at the entrance to a ‘domain’ as you called them, and hummed to yourself, staring off at nothing.

“We’ll need a Hydro,” you murmured to no one in particular, before turning around.

“Tighnari, why don’t you go rest for a while?”

You flicked your hand and the Iudex of Fontaine stepped through a tear in the fabric of the world, clutching that book you had given him, the one with the blue, watery pages, the one that looked MADE for him. That’s the words you said when you gave it to him.

“Oh, it looks made for you, Neuvi! I’m so glad I got it!”

Tighnari had wanted to rip the fur from his ears, the skin from his flesh, when you smiled at the Iudex, presenting him with the book. Tighnari had clutched his mis-matched bow so hard one of the strings broke with a musical twang. You hadn’t even spared him a second glance.

And now, as you ripped open another seam of reality, revealing Gandharva Ville to him, your smile was not quite as bright as it once was. You ushered him towards the tear, murmuring one last farewell as you did so. 

“Go take a break, Tighnari. I’m sure you’re missing home. Don’t worry, Neuvillette will keep me safe!”

In that moment, as you said that, he’d never been quite so sure of anything.

Tighnari was beginning to hate Gandharva Ville. 

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

oooh I got one! prompt 74 with any of the follower!bishops, where they get hurt on a crusade and reader, who is a healer finds them and helps them <333

74) "I think I broke my leg!"

.......

"I can't believe this...betrayed by my own-!!"

"Lord Kallamar?"

Surprised by the voice, Kallamar looked up at you, the figure dressed in white tattered robes, clean of any and all ichor. The metal halo behind your head reflected the sunlight from above Anchordeep, making it seem as though it were glowing.

Now he remembers.

You're one of the many nameless Healers in his former army of cultists and devotees. He thought most of them were culled by the Lamb at this point, yet you were somehow still alive.

"You have returned to us in such a miniscule form." You mused, to which you saw him tense up, trying to shuffle away.

So far, every creature here was trying to kill him during his crusade, and he wasn't sure if you were going to be any different.

He knew should've gone to the tailor first; at least they wouldn't attack him on-sight just because his red robes remind them of the Lamb..and that his defeat permanently shattered his image as a leader.

"Back away from me! I'm---ow!!!" Feeling a sudden sharp pain in one of his legs, Kallamar stopped moving and looked down, realizing it didn't look quite right. "Ah...a-ahaha...I-I think I broke my leg...!"

"Do not fear, my lord. I will make it all better." Floating down to the ground, you gently reached your hands out to him, green magic appearing from your fingertips. "How did this happen, if I may ask?"

"Well..I fell.." He mumbled quietly, and you looked at him, mishearing him.

"What happened?"

"I-I fell while fleeing from one of those sea creatures..." Red dusted his face as he averted his gaze, embarrassed to be seen like this--especially by someone he used to rule over.

But you seemed to show absolutely no bias nor resentment towards him, even though he now wore the same robes of the enemy cult.

Part of him was afraid you'd refuse and leave him to suffer on his own, although he remembers that your singular job is to be a healer. And despite knowing that he wasn't some all-powerful god anymore and allowed himself to be beaten by Lamb into submission...you wanted to help him anyways. You didn't huff or laugh or show any indication that you thought of him as pathetic for breaking his leg over a simple fall.

Instead, you quietly allowed your magic to go to work, mending the broken done and repairing the torn flesh. Soon it set itself back into place without causing him further pain, making it good as new.

Like nothing even happened.

"You should be good now, my lord. Do be careful with your new mortal vessel." Bowing your head, you rose to your feet and watched as Kallamar slowly got up.

"Only now I see how fragile this body is..damned Lamb.." He grunted, checking out his leg before picking up his backpack. Then he gazed up at you. "What's your name?"

You blinked. "My name..?"

"Yes, that's what I said. I never knew your name, but I wanna know it now."

"I see, then...I'm [y/n]." You answered, surprised and flattered that he asked.

It's been so long since you've said your name to anyone, that you've almost forgotten it entirely.

"Well, [y/n]..would you care to accompany me for the remainder of my crusade? I was sent to retrieve as many crystal shards as I could carry...but I keep running into dead ends, and death traps.." Kallamar shuddered. "And I-"

"You needn't worry, my lord. I would be happy to join you." Although he couldn't see your smile under your hood, he could hear the delight in your voice, and chuffed.

Why were you so kind to him? Why did you treat him as though he was still your ruler?

"None of this bothers you at all?" He vaguely gestured to himself. "You don't see me as your "enemy"?"

"I only see the injured and the sick, and I heal them." You assured him, chuckling softly. "Do not fret. It matters not what form you take or how limited it is, my lord-"

"Okay, I'm not your "lord" anymore. Just Kallamar is fine."

"...very well, Kallamar. Then let us go. I know a safe path."

[suguru-getos]

fractures // geto suguru x f!reader // chapter 6

|| masterlist ||

-> summary & a/n: this is a comparatively smoller chapter but also the second last chapter, chapter seven would officially end this series. after getting freed from the clutches of cult leader geto, the reader has a hard time. life is not lifing. depression mentions, angst, ANGSTT and comfort. mentions of acute depression & anxiety.

the reader tries to cope through life, taking therapy, but her mental health goes down the drain. suguru rescues her at an impossible moment.

"y/n, come on out!" a friendly, familiar voice echoed from your bedroom's entrance. you don't recognize the concept of time right now. whether it flows in waves, or just has been at a still. frankly, you don't want to waste time on things like that. everything is a reminder, a reminder to eat, a reminder to breathe… a reminder to live. "you can't make progress if you don't want to make progress." the scene shifts, you don’t even remember how you got from your home to your now therapist. your lips part, "I am making progress I think.." you are not sure, what he is even talking about. eyes lingering around the camisole top you're wearing, around the faded monkey in your arm. "look, y/n, it's been four weeks you're here. and you seem to be unaccepting of everything. your reaction to everything is pure numbness. sometimes you have to fight.." your therapist says again, watching your shoulders slump. of course, it is necessary to fight. it is necessary to be strong. you have done all that in front of suguru geto. you have done that to escape him. or rather— make him sick of you enough that he didn’t want you anymore.

you don't have it in you anymore.

"this dinner is your favorite." your mom croons, again a scene shift. your mind has stopped working right it seems. there are tremors every day, you wonder if you have died already and are living your last moments in your head. you nodded, acknowledging everything she says and taking a bite. "it's been one and a half month, y/n. do you not want to step out anymore?" you clutch your fork in your hand, fisting it hard. stepping out… yeah, none of that's happening anytime soon. "you know, I thought you'd be elated and happy when geto released you on his own. we had all the money and he didn't take any." she hums, you're unsure why you get to hear his name. you want to forget him like a faint memory. yet, his siren eyes digging into your soul when he gazes at you, his close-eyed smile and the hatred with which he looked at you. like he would carve the very flesh of you any chance he got. like he would flay you, like he would kill you… when will this stop!

meanwhile, the geto estate has taken it's usual pace. there are pilgrims and devotees coming in, wanting to seek their 'geto sama'. wanting his aid, wanting the monk to help them, wanting to be of help. geto has meetings, and his day ends with quiet dinner with his family. you have quickly become an insignificant past of theirs. why wouldn't you? you were already insignificant to them anyways. manami beat you up broken, geto carved you like a butcher, demons in hell don't think about the souls they torture. except….. for suguru. except for the dramatically disgusting bit of himself that dreams of things he couldn't do for you. as much as he pretends he hates monkeys and therefore, hates you… his inner psyche and inner subconscious mind does not help. he can't escape his own dreams now. especially when they consist of him consoling you over his lap while you cry, apologizing and kissing your forehead, crying with you at your pain so you could feel better, spoon feeding you while you were at the geto estate. in all his dreams, you haven't smiled once. his brain is desperate to create at least… an illusion of you smiling. he wonders how you smile ever so often, are you an eye-smiler? do you get dimples? do your gums show when you grin? do you smile wide enough? it really is frustrating when he's punished by you not smiling and being happy… even in his dreams.

he wakes up, not jolting up like a nightmare but a cruel, calm wake from his rem sleep. eyes lingering with the tiredness he carries. dark circles unable to mask his authentic self which comes out when suguru's heart hurts. his heart fucking hurts… maybe he should go and check on you. he might see you smiling. he might see you happy! yeah, that's it!

so suguru goes, summoning his dragon and goes to your place, standing by your window. ever so careful, slightly gleeful to see how peacefully you must be sleeping now. and there you stood, leaned against the edge of the wall, curled up with your knees close to your chest, staring into nothing like a non-living doll. forgetting to blink, forgetting to breathe. his heart shatters. this is… exactly how you look like in his dreams, too. tears burn his eyes as he gnaws at his lip. your eye-bags have their own story to tell, dark circles and pale lips. you've lost weight, you've lost glow. you look even more breakable than you did before. weakling…

suguru doesn't understand either, when he feels the morning glow radiate your room. he had been staring at you like an awestruck fan of a masterpiece for the entire night. "y/n! good morning!" he hears your friend speak, oh- you do have supportive people around you, who come and meet you. you flinched, looking around lost, you didn't realize the entire night had passed either. your body has had enough, you can feel it when you try to get up from bed. your entire being is unstable and you feel like you can't do this anymore. you can't do the tedious task of living in a world where you can't hope to smile again. you want to rest. you want your heart to stop beating, you want your eyes to stop seeing, you want your ears to stop hearing, you want your skin to stop crawling with disgust when touched. you want to rest. you want to rest. you want to rest. you want to rest. you want to rest. you want to- you-

a thud echoes in the room followed by a sinking feeling of gnarly anxiety in suguru's stomach. you had just passed out. and his senses had stopped working that very moment. pupils dilated with panic, didn't even think about the glass your window had or that breaking it would hurt him, didn't even think about how your family would feel when they hear the noise and watch him, when they watch him holding you like you would break, or holding you like you shouldn't break… anymore.

just holding your limp form against his chest, how tiny. like a little bunny, like a little dove just caged in his arms. not so scared when you have no consciousness left in you. he loves this expression of content you have. he hates himself for making you go through this. he hates himself for feeling so lost and so taut between two separate ideologies. he hates himself for going harder on you every time you made him feel something, he hates himself for resisting. he couldn't, not possibly so.

"she needs a doctor." his voice echoes with adamant authority when he sees your parents.

you do, need a doctor. hopefully someone who could heal your soul, too.

[s0fti3w1tch]

Tentative Devotee AU (TBC Soon)

Leonardo is a Foot trainee, raised and trained by Lieutenant and Brute since he was 9. Life before then is fuzzy at best. — In the past several months, he's been going on his first proper missions, quickly aware of a persistent threat against the Foot Clan: 3 mutant turtles and a human who've foiled them time and time again.

What he wasn't aware of was that they were 4 siblings who never gave up on finding their missing brother.

CONTENT WARNING! This AU will explore: Mourning of family / Mourning of a child (who isn't actually dead, but believed to be). Violence is canon-typical up to the standards of the movie— That is also a reference point for the tone of this AU. There will be cult themes and dips into the topic of cult trauma, alongside family issues.

Main Comic:

Enemies || [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ tbc... ]

Baby Blue || [coming soon]

[TBA]

Minisodes/Mini-Comic:

Donnie's Apology Gift

First Mission Mishaps!

PSAs: Triggering Content, Why Leo will not have a "Dark Side," Cult Parents

More content below the cut! ♥︎

Scrapped/Changed Ideas or Scenes:

"Maybe this is the lowest point of my life" / Severing Ties

Usagi's first design + role

Mona Lisa first design

Reference Sheets:

Leonardo's Room

UPDATED LEO FULL REF

Leo's Outfit Change + Sorta-Timeline

Hand Marking

Scarf

Leo's Guitar

Eyes (outdated)

Nail Polish

Butterfly Charm

Future!TD!Leo

Usagi WIP

Doodles:

More Lore/Story Heavy = ♥︎ / Just More Fun = ☀︎ / 💬 = answer to an ask

Leo Solo!

"Keep it together, Leo"

"What I know about family?"

He/They/Xe of the day! / Speed-Color ☀︎

Scooter Boy! ☀︎

He's Writing Fanfic ☀︎

Guac Baby ☀︎

"Yeah, of course! But also..." ☀︎

Animation Test

No Sleep

[ i was listening to sonic music while drawing this ] ☀︎

disillusionment

Cook :P ☀︎

3 Swords?! ☀︎ 💬

Peepaw'd :) 💬

Head Empty + Leo kinda mad ♥︎ 💬

Blep! 💬

Feelings Down ♥︎💬

Multi POV

TD Spoilers Over Memes [1]

Trust in the Foot ♥︎ 💬

"Keep your brother safe" ♥︎ 💬

Big Sisters ♥︎

Turtle Sister to Turtle Sister 💬

Foot Clan Family

Motorcycle Theft! 💬

Shell Cracks + A Small Moment ♥︎ 💬

Trans Sibs!!! ☀︎ 💬

Hamato Clan

Not Growing With Us ♥︎💬

Recognition? 💬 ♥︎

"Donnie, stay out of this"

Unknown Tension

Protective Older Twin 💬

"Can we be brothers?" 💬

Donnie's hope (colored ver: here)

"Donnie, whatcha got there?" ☀︎

Drawing for Donnie 1

Yōkai Connections

Hueso's First Encounter With Leo 💬

+ All my AU Crossover Content linked here~!

Separated Leo Crossover : Bathtub Arc ☀︎

Preview Comic (Test)

TMNT AU Competition Basketball Saga ☀︎

DOUBLE-HANDED BACKHAND SWING

Nail Bat Recieved

Leo Hype Squad!

No PomPoms

I didn't intend for this AU to be that big, but I realized I did want to give this a go and make at least something. It's my goal to finish this project eventually.

The AU will be told in segments, comics of various points of the story.

Bonus! Miscellaneous info that doesn't play big into this AU but matters enough to me:

Leonardo is transmasculine, uses he/they/xe pronouns and is referred to with primarily masculine terms.

A version of Stan Sakai's Usagi Yojimbo comics exists and it's Leo's second favorite comic series in this AU.

'Tentative Devotee' is the name of the fanfic I was originally going to write. It was just gonna be a 2-shot fic and a way to navigate some feelings as someone who was born and raised in, and eventually left, a cult.

The initial tone/direction of this AU was much different, Leo ending up in the Foot Clan under different circumstance (i.e. direct kidnapping from Lieutenant and Brute). I found this didn't quite work for me.

[blackknight-100]

Desperately need to talk about how fatherhood works in the Mahabharata for Surya and Indra with their mortal sons.

Arjuna is known as Indra's child. His most common epithets (related to familial lineage) largely come from his mother, but it is openly understood that he is Indra's child. Indra helps him out so many times and it's wholesome as hell.

Then you have Karna, who is not acknowledged as Surya's son, and Surya keeps Kunti's secret either out of duty or regret (for leaving a child with a baby, that is). So his help is next to nothing for most of Karna's life. And then the event comes when his brother is about to take away his son's armour, the only protection he has been able to offer this boy, and he knows Karna will give it away but he goes to dissuade him anyway. When he comes, in most versions, he says he comes to aid an ardent devotee. In BORI he says that there is a secret he cannot reveal, but he is here to warn Karna out of love.

And it stands out to me so much, that from Karna's perspective, he meets his father through years of devotion and prayer, because you can tell he thinks of Surya as his mentor and spiritual guide, and Adhiratha as his father. He has next to no qualms in claiming Radha as his mother even after he is told the truth, and his reaction to Kunti being his mother is not dissimilar.

And then this god shows up, does not even bother to reveal that he is his father (I imagine Karna must have been pretty peeved when he found out - in a "you could've just told me when you visited" way) and asks him to let go of the one thing he takes great pride in. Even there too, there is a great deal of respect for agency: Karna is firm and Surya compromises. If they'd had a few more chances to interact, I think they would work out pretty well.

And then you have Arjun and Indra, so beautifully entwined, so beloved and so dear. Indra helping Arjuna is seen as interference (and rightly so), but there is something so paternal about how Indra desperately tries to protect his child - depending on the version he (not necessarily chronologically):

a) mitigates the Urvashi curse,

b) sends out the Gandharvas to heckle the Kauravas

c) bestows divine counsel upon his son

d) gives him a great bow after getting thrashed

e) turns into an insect and gets Karna cursed.

And most importantly, he shows up at a MORTAL'S door, CLAIMING TO BE A BRAHMAN (which is, again depending on version, one of reasons why said mortal got cursed), declines offers of land and money and girls, and shamelessly demands the armour. A KING. REDUCED TO A BEGGAR.

Because remember, technically Brahman's are given state funding for their research, education, priesthood, or simply their birth. Indra does none of these. He knows this. Karna knows this. He knows that Karna knows this. But he demands it anyway.

Obviously, Karna's devotion to the Sun God, and the fact the said god is his father is a narrative device meant to represent his arc of reaching for the sun and getting burned (in most cases, at least), while Arjuna's relation to Indra and his rain motifs is because narratively he peaks at terminal velocity and then freefalls to the earth as soon as Krishna dies.

But I love thinking of what their respective relations to their fathers must have been, and how it mirrors/contrasts Kunti's relationship with the gods. Kunti calls Indra and he does what she wants (for him to give her a baby), and is able to support their child in most cases. Surya is called and he does not do what Kunti wants (for him to leave immediately), and his relationship with their son is one of distance and endurance. But they are good fathers still, as good as god can be. (Except Surya with Shani. Idk what's going on there).

Anyway I forgot what point I was trying to make... but yeah!

[panda-writes-kpop]

the dreadful need in the devotee ~ lee gahyeon

a/n: sorry for all my international folks, I know I'm late (curse you comp sci homework for taking hours to complete) but happy Gahyeon day!! here's your daily dose of existensial dread and sadness in case you haven't felt that way recently :] (all jokes, but apparently I was in my feels when I wrote this)

tw: fluff to sadness, main character death, car accident, some religious elements, we almost got a happy ending folks

acknowledgements: inspired by hozier's talk and the pjo series on Disney plus!

word count: 2.8k

summary: a recollection of the five times you couldn't look at Gahyeon and the one time you did, but it's staged during a modern retelling of one of my favorite greek myths of all time (5+1 trope my beloved <3)

♡ Masterlist ♡

As the burning taste of alcohol travels down your throat, you think about why you’re here on a Wednesday night.

Here wasn’t home, the place you most often were found. Home was your paradise, your inspiration for your work - but you had been in a rut lately. Nothing seemed to spark your creativity, not even a hot drink and a warm bath would do.

So you wandered down the street, hoping to find something that would make you and your work feel alive again. Instead, the couples you passed on the street only chose to dig at a wound that you had covered with the patchwork of self-isolation.

Since tonight was an utter failure, much like most nights this month, you turned to the one thing that made everything a little better - booze. A drink sounded nice, especially as the last couple you passed discussed their wedding and future together.

You slid into the first bar that you found that was not too far from your apartment. Five blocks was a new record for you, considering that every store you needed was only two or three blocks from your apartment. Maybe you’d print out a certificate so you’d have some marker of success to hang on your wall.

World’s Most Introverted Person Travels Two Blocks Farther Than Usual!

You need another hobby besides drinking and bad jokes.

You’d turn to art, but blank pages and screens peek out at you from every corner of your apartment. That wasn’t an option, and you had already used all your daily wanderlust to find a bar, so drinking would have to do.

It wasn’t like the bar was busy or anything - weeknight traffic was slow, especially on Wednesday. You were sitting at the bar, making occasional idle chatter with the bartender and another patron who seemed to be in a worse state of despair than you.

You were fine in your bubble, and it wasn’t like anything would pop it any time soon-

Then you see her.

Your eyes landed on a group of girls sitting in a corner, but the girl that draws your attention is everything you had imagined and so much more. With bright pink hair, it was impossible to see anything but here.

She was a beautiful white lily among the tall grass, a sweet melody floated over syncopated beats. She was the sun, and you were a comet that was about to crash into her orbit. She was everything, and you were nothing.

…And she was looking right at you.

Fuuuuuck.

You immediately look away when she bounces up to you - she’s probably going to talk to that other person, right?

You couldn’t look her in the eyes, even when she, in all of her beautiful glory, was right in front of you. 

“Do you want to join us for drinks?” Her eyes are inviting as she holds her hand out to you.

You try to find a reason to say no, but she sparks something within you. Something warm and kind, buried under the safety blanket that you wrapped your heart in.

She wasn’t your inspiration, not yet, at least. A muse, perhaps?

Whatever divine intervention brought you together was well needed.

Even though you couldn’t look her in the eyes until you were both drunk enough to forget everything but each other.

~

Gahyeon, her name was. 

Even though the headache fucking sucked (but was so worth it, considering the extra phone number in your contacts), things started to look up for you. You could actually produce art, which meant that you could pay your landlord on time.

Your apartment was a mess while you were in a funk - a proper decluttering was in order. If you weren’t inspired to do art, you definitely weren’t inspired to do household chores. You shudder as your mother’s voice reprimands you about keeping your place tidy.

Perhaps sending proof of life would get her voice out of your head. Yet again, she’d probably call you and then want to visit, which would make things worse.

Suddenly, doing the dishes instead of mentally stalling doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.

Tedious doesn’t begin to cover your feelings towards the stacks upon stacks on dishes, which hadn’t grown mold or attracted flies, thank god. You decide to set your phone aside (you’d checked it three times since you decided to do the dishes, maybe you need to get a safe to throw it into) before filling the sink with water.

As you add soap to the water, your phone chimes. You shut off the water, as flooding your apartment would be worse than cold water, you reason.

You were sober enough to put Gahyeon’s name in your phone, but your capitalization skills were a bit… questionable.

gAhyEOn: hey u up?

    some friends and I went drinking last night, and I need a pick-me-up.

    you wanna go for coffee?

Coffee? As in a coffee date? As in you’ll be face-to-face with Gahyeon alone, after you probably made a fool of yourself a few nights ago? 

Well, you don’t remember much about that night, do you?

God damn you, vodka, you taste good in too many mixed drinks.

You quickly respond with a ‘Sure! What time?’ after contemplating what to say for an uncomfortable amount of time.

gAhyEOn: Does thirty minutes work for you?

    I’ll send you the address, see if you can make it there in time.

Your phone buzzes, and afterwards, you plug the address into Google Maps - it’s only a block farther than the bar you met Gahyeon in. If you quickly scrubbed a few dishes and put proper clothes on (the Pokemon pajamas were cute but not ideal for a “first date”), you could make it there in thirty minutes if you run-walked.

You send her a confirmation text, telling her that the time and place will work. You manage to finish a quarter of the dishes (you’ll totally finish the rest of the dishes instead of continuing your latest masterpiece) before throwing on a comfortable outfit that’s perfect for a first date. You grab your wallet and phone before heading out of your apartment. 

The walk to the cafe takes a lot less time than you had considered, but that was probably because you were going through a hundred and one different ways that you could make a fool of yourself.

Although you nearly ran headfirst into a pole when you saw Gahyeon waving at you in the distance, you had made it to the café.

Even if you were a bit too embarrassed to look her in the eyes, a bit sweaty from run-walking here, especially after she told you off for being late.

“You’re five minutes late. I thought I told you thirty minutes, not thirty-five-”

“In my defense,” You raise your hands in the air, “I’m worse at directions when I’m sober.”

“If you buy me coffee, I may forgive you.”

“Let’s test that theory, huh?” You open the door for her as she gracefully smiles.

You let out a nervous sigh before closing the door behind you. You’ve got this, right?

Maybe the gods would push some luck in your favor.

~

Gahyeon didn’t think you were a total loser, so that was a plus.

She even agreed to a proper first date, and then a second, next a third, and you’d somehow convinced her to become your girlfriend… which meant that she would be moving in with you since you’d been dating for a year and a half.

Time flies.

“Can you help me with these boxes, babe?”

After shoving more of your supplies (holy fuck how much shit did you own) into a spare closet, you join Gahyeon at the door to receive the box that she had in her hands.

“I got it,” You say before immediately swearing after the box rests in your arms, “what did you put in here, a bowling ball?”

“Three, actually,” Gahyeon offers a sweet smile as you shake your head, “it’s just the first box of my clothes. You can set it in the bedroom, if you would.”

“The things I do for you.” You scoff before shifting the weight in the box (seriously, what was in here?).

You take a few steps forward as Gahyeon wanders around your apartment. She peeks into the room you just left before letting out a gasp.

“You didn’t move your work so I could have more space, did you?”

You pause, not turning to meet her eye, as she accusingly charges toward you.

“Yah, babe, I told you to leave that stuff there! You know how much I love seeing your work.”

You hightail it to the bedroom before she tackles you into a warm hug. You both dissolve into giggles, heavy boxes and caring anger set aside, as you enjoy her presence.

“I love you.” She whispers before kissing your lips.

You wonder what god of love was paid off in order to match you and Gahyeon, but you didn’t care. Everything worked, you two worked, and your work spoke for itself.

That’s all you ever needed.

~ 

A wedding ring was the other thing you needed.

You had fiddled with the ring for ages, wondering when would be the right time to propose. 

Gahyeon deserved the best, after all.

So you just asked her one day, when the moment was right.

And she said yes before bursting out into tears. You were quick to comfort her, of course, but you felt like you had ascended to another plane of reality.

Finally, everything made sense.

Your creative energy was at a high, so you were producing plenty of work. You were ahead on rent, enough so that you could save up for a house and a wedding, eventually.

Gahyeon stood in the kitchen, admiring the ring on her left hand, as you wrapped your arm around her waist.

“The ring’s pretty.” She says absentmindedly as you squeeze your arms, which makes her laugh. “What’s up?”

“I got bored. Something told me to go out here and check up on you.” You give a small shrug before kissing her cheek. “What are you up to?”

“I’m going to head to the store by my old place to pick up a few things. Do you want anything?”

For some reason, your stomach sinks. But why, you wonder? She made this trip often, what was so awful about it now?

“Are you sure you don’t want to go down the street, to the convenience store?” You try to convince her as she shakes her head and manages to escape your grasp.

“I’ll be fine, babe,” She turns to give you a quick kiss on the lips before grabbing the car keys on the table, “are you worried about me?”

“Maybe.” You give a noncommittal answer before checking the clock. “Be home for dinner!”

“I will, I promise.” She walks away and grabs the doorknob before turning back to you. “Hey!”

“Hey what?”

“I can’t wait to marry you.” Gahyeon winks at you as you look away in embarrassment. 

It’s crazy that she still has this effect on you, years later.

She laughs before shutting the door as you stare at the front door to your apartment like a lovesick golden retriever waiting for their human to return.

You couldn’t wait for her to return back into your arms, so you could make dinner and spend the rest of your night together.

~

Four hours.

It had been four hours since Gahyeon left.

Should you be worried?

She would’ve texted, called, told you if she would’ve been late. Gahyeon expected the same of you, even though you weren’t the most prompt person at times. 

You should stop pacing before you have to add carpet replacement to your laundry list of things to buy. The sun had gone down, but that meant that traffic must’ve been heavy, right?

You need to take a walk before you worry yourself into an early grave.

You grab a light jacket before exiting your apartment. Taking a walk around the block has always helped clear your mind, but your heart pangs with a new hurt as Gahyeon always liked to go on walks with you.

She was fine, she had to be fine.

You round the corner, only to want to immediately retreat back into your home.

A car accident.

The worst part?

Gahyeon’s car was among the wreckage.

Police officers pushed the surrounding crowd back, and you scream when you see an EMT pick a bloody ring out from among the wreckage.

Not just any ring.

Her ring.

You can’t look anymore.

~

You hadn’t spoken to anyone in weeks.

You hadn’t created anything since the day she died.

Three weeks.

Twenty-one days.

Five-hundred and four hours.

Thirty-thousand, two-hundred forty minutes.

You can’t breathe, can’t think.

You need to open a window.

The light casts a gentle glow over your apartment.

It’s a wreck. You’re a wreck. 

How fitting.

Your phone rings. It’s probably your mother, asking why you didn’t come to Sunday dinner for the third time in a row.

You can’t tell her about Gahyeon, you could barely face her parents and tell them what happened. You were choked up then, and you hadn’t felt much better since.

Your heart had been ripped from your chest.

You pick up your phone anyway.

“Do you want to see her again?” A deep male voice echoes from your phone speaker as you sigh.

“You have the wrong number. Have a good day.” You say with no emotion as the voice quickly replies.

“It’s Gahyeon. I have Gahyeon.”

“Who are you? Where is she?”

“Go to the bar where you first met. I’ll meet you there and take you to her.” 

“Hold on, how do I know you’re not-”

You pause as you hear the other line beep repeatedly. 

He hung up on me. What a dick.

~

“What do you want?” You gruffly ask as you slide into a booth opposite a man dressed in an all-black suit.

He fixes his silver locks for a moment before looking you up and down.

“You want the girl back?”

“Gahyeon,” You correct, “and I want her here as much as her family does.”

“Would you do anything for her?”

“Yes.” You answer immediately as the man smiles.

“Good, good.” He snaps his fingers as the scenery around you changes. 

You’re forced on your feet as the booth disappears behind you.

“What the fuck-” You look at the walls, which expand in every direction and then disappear behind walls of fire and stone.

The man walks forward as a set of stairs appears before him.

“Who are you?” You ask as the ground underneath you begins to shift.

“Death, not the devil.” He answers after sitting down on a throne made of fire and magma. “I have a proposition for you, since your love for Gahyeon has moved my wife. I’m feeling rather…. generous, shall we say?”

“What’s the catch?”

“You have to take the long way out, with you leading and her behind. You can’t look back to see if she’s there, you have to trust yourself and trust her. Understood?”

“I-” You pause while weighing your options.

Could you lead her out of Hell? A dangerous adventure, sure, but it would be worth it to bring her home.

“I accept.”

Death snaps his finger before a door to your left appears.

“Walk through that door and begin your journey.” 

You place your hand on the door before looking back at him.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me until you get to the other side.”

~

You didn’t expect walking through hell to be a cake walk, but you were absolutely exhausted. 

Who knows if death himself didn’t trick you in the first place? 

You couldn’t look to see if Gahyeon was behind you, and you couldn’t hear her speaking as well.

You just had to trust yourself and trust her.

You trusted Gahyeon, of course you did, but did you trust yourself enough that you wouldn’t have been fooled?

Everyone in hell is looking at you as you climb up towards the exit.

You can do this. You should do this.

Is she really behind me?

You should keep going. You have to keep going.

Your footsteps begin to slow as your breath becomes ragged. You were tired, but you were almost there.

You see the light, see everything that you would have again.

You reach out to embrace the light, you’re almost there.

Is she there?

Gahyeon gasps as your eyes connect with hers.

“You… were there.”

“I always was.” She softly answers before backing up towards the darkness.

“I made a mistake.” You try to reach out and grab her, but she’s fading away from you.

“I know.”

“I love you.” A tear falls from your eye as she disappears into nothingness.

“I know.”

Just like that, she was gone, and you were alone.

[tenebrisdivina]

Godspousery: A Different type of Relationship

This begins my series of posts on Godspousery

Art: by art of yayu

After receiving permission from my deities; I have been guided to share some of my experience with spousery as it may be of help or interest to some, since there is a lot of confusion and misconceptions around what this path actually is and means.

To preface this: I am more traditional and old school meaning that godspousery to my eyes is only marriage to the divine. I have been married to both my spouses ( who are demonic divine dark lords) for 6 years (at point of this writing) and have worked closely with various divine beings and spirits for close to 16 years now.

I have noticed in more recent times that some people misconstrue the term godspouse to mean just about any and all types of relationships with the divine. In my experience this is not the case. It is not a term that covers all types of relationships ( ie familial, platonic, devotional etc). Nor should it be used as a catch all phrase as there is a distinct difference between these types of relationships. Genuine godspousery is not the same as a platonic or other relationship with the divine. Nor is it a stand in for any form of romantic or sexual relationship with the divine.  The term spouse is used for a reason ( ie married to the divine). I am also of the viewpoint that devotional polytheism and devotee ought to be used more often to refer to these other types of relationships instead of lumping it all together under one term.

Godspousery is a sacred path and practice. It is not something to be taken lightly nor for the human egoic wants and needs, since its really not about you or your ego. I have the experience of having a patron, having normal devotional and/or working relationships with gods, spirits and Demonic divine as well as being espoused. All of these types of relationships are different; though most often share an element of devotion and being a devotee and some are more heavily focused on this then others- such as patronage. While godspousery and patronage both have heavy elements of devotion to them, one of the key differences I have found is that my spouses are connected to me on a much deeper level, soul level- then just normal devotion. They know me ( the entirety of my being) in ways few others do. How we connect on this deep level is rather like puzzle pieces fitting together- but in a way in which each of use is whole in and of ourselves (still learning to be on my part; though it is encouraged)- however there is a sense of joining and completeness to this relationship. Of balance between us all so that we may build and prosper together. It feels like home. Of course there is love as well- but this more complex than what humans often consider love to be. Especially with such darker beings as I am bound with. The Demonic divines’ ( and deities’ ) understanding of what love is reaches far beyond what humans know it as. And often it may not look like anything humans are familiar with. There is also a lot of trust and learning to trust my spouses in this and on my personal path. There is a depth of presence and feeling of being held in a sense but  rather across all aspects of myself and in all realms, that comes with this perhaps particularly to my dynamic at least.

 On this- a side note; there is no room in godspousery especially at this depth of relationship, for co-dependence or toxic/problematic attachment styles  or relationship patterns etc. If one genuinely connects with a god/god-level being on this level and one still has these problematic traits; they are soon worked through so that a healthier type of relationship between the parties is formed and possible. One thing about this is that a genuine deity/ god-level being- will not tolerate, enable or conform to ones insecurities or problematic/toxic attachment styles and relationship patterns. They can help one to move and heal into a healthier place, but they will not interact with you in a way that enables these styles to continue- especially in a such a depth of relationship. While the deities and beings in question may be “understanding” of this is a way- they do not enable it.

One of the main differences I have found between Patronage and Spousery- is that while my Patron knows me well as well and knows my soul so to speak- it is a less intimate dynamic in a sense. He knows me well and guides me as a close mentor, cares about me specifically and guides my path, but there is more of an overarching kind of strategy to it. Not to say that my Spouses don’t also have this, but it is a bit more calculating and for me patronage, is more focused on guiding me rather than the intimate relationship that Spousery affords. My Husbands feel closer to my heart and more deeply “internally” connected- They nourish my soul and They are a place of rest. While my Patron can also nourish me it is not to the depth of how my Husbands do so. ((sometimes for some godspouses; a patron may be the Spouse, but this is the difference I have noted between Them in my situation.)

Godspousery is also different from parental relationship with deities. Parental relationships (which I experienced while being a devotee of Setekh and Kali ma) feel very- well parental. While I was deeply devoted to them, regular worship, bhakti etc, It was more casual in a way. I could connect about anything and they would offer advice or aid. Tbh it was impactful and healing but it was not this soul level depth that my Spouses have. While I called Setekh and Kali Ma my patrons and for a while they were- it is still a different relationship from my actual patronage with Lord Abaddon. In all cases I felt cared about by these divine beings and have been intimate with them. But with the more “parental deities” it wasn’t so personal, so deep reaching and was more similar to a “regular” devotee relationship with a deity. My spouses are also obviously a lot more intimate with me and also know me with a depth that the others “don’t”. All of these relationships have been and are very valuable and meaningful to my journey and path. But being espoused- my Partners also have more impact on me then anyone else.

All these types of relationships mentioned are again different from regular devotee and/or working with the other deities and demonic divine beings, and all are impactful in their own ways. Regular devotion and “working with” is often more “business-like.” Some beings I work with may be stricter on how They are to be approached and worked with, and some may over time become more like casual acquaintances and friendly. But there is still a distance to it- even if some of these practices involve sexual relations/exchange, it is more “professional.” These beings also know I am owned by and married to my Husbands, so there can be also a reservedness to the interactions. ( I use the term owned because I am- in a BDSM sense I am in a heavy M/s relationship with my Husbands, this is personal but also aids in my specific workings, priestessing and dynamic- obviously this is not the case for all godspouses etc).

[yserina-starweaver]

November 18 Day 2 - Deceit/Eternal Part Two Part Three Zin-Azshari, the jewel in the Kaldorei Empire's crown, gleamed in the light of the twin moons. Enysria A'lora couldn't help herself and trailed her fingers over the smooth, clean limestone that made up the great exterior wall of the Temple of the Moon. There had been less and less devotees over the centuries, their Queen had put all her nations pride into schools of magic which left little time for faith among the contentious families vying more and more for her favor, but what priestesses remained dutifully upheld their traditions.

She drew her hood up a little higher and ducked into the alley to loiter near the back entrance. A quiet chorus of bells rang out across the city, marking the early morning hour. Five minutes passed, then ten. Her contact was supposed to meet her at fifteen. Soon sixteen eclipsed, and her jaw set. She had never been late before.

At twenty minutes past a slightly harried Priestess of the Moon ducked around the corner, expression immediately sheepish, "Sorry, sorry. We were called to sing a service, I couldn't—"

"It's fine, Ainasha. Do you have the gift I'm meant to deliver?" Enysria's voice was a little distorted by the featureless porcelain mask that kept her identity safe beyond the cloak, but that was to both parties benefit. She held her pale hand out, steady and patient as always.

Priestess Ainasha handed over the small, thin parcel that had been carefully and traditionally bound in silk cloth, "Please make sure it arrives safely."

They bowed to each other with deep respect, the Priestess as luminous as the mother moon above and Enysria a velveteen shadow. She darted silently down the length of the alley to make up for the lost minutes — the tenuous constellation of informants, drop points and clandestine meetings only worked when everyone was on time.

Being on time was protection.

It took two hours to run to the public house on the outskirts of the capital. Everything was newer out here, the constant push for expansion had seen the boundaries of the city grow and shift with every year, but nature crept in where it could against the arcane buffering those closer to the Well basked in. The distant chiming carillon called and even though she was one of their swiftest runners she knew that she too was late and damned compounding delays.

The bartender and owner nodded at her as she entered, "Care for anything, Traveler?"

He was a point in their grand design, too and didn't mind her mask. The request they used changed weekly and she nodded, speaking plainly as always even though the words were different this time, "Do you have a house special?"

"Discounted rate for a night and dinner brought up, the room on the left at the end of the hall is available," he nodded up the stairs, "I'll be up if we're out of anything to let you know."

Failsafes on failsafes.

Enysria walked up the stairs, careful to be audible about it. Not that it mattered — she was still late. As soon as she stepped into the room on the left at the end of the hall she was grabbed and slammed uncomfortably against the wall and the full attention of the audience was on her.

"You're late," Marros Silverfang didn't waiver for a moment, dagger held at her throat. He'd always scared her a little, but it was good to have someone a bit more feral on their side.

Kedamyr Moonblade sighed and held up both hands in a placating way to draw attention back to himself, "Marros, please put our compatriot down. It has only been a few minutes and she's important to our proceedings this evening. If Filear let her up, she's said what she must to prove she's with the order."

Marros huffed in unbridled frustration, but complied all the same. Enysria exhaled quietly, not realizing she'd been holding her breath the whole time. She could appreciate Marros' suspicion, at least. The Queen had become more and more paranoid and organizing like this was becoming ever more difficult as branches of the resistance — real or accused — were being pruned. She found her voice after a brief moment, "Thank you for your diligence, Marros. You do us all a good service."

Kedamyr beckoned her over to him, and as she walked she took in the faces crowded around the room. They were all strangers, save for the two she knew. Something shifted in her, then, wary. Yes, she had papers — communications and detail on Azshara's inner circle, laundered through servants, members of the Moon Guard and temples, but Kedamyr had said she was important to the proceedings. Not her gift. That was off the usual script.

He sensed her hesitation and held out a weathered palm, patient as always. Steady as the navigator's star. Enysria retrieved the silk wrapped bundle from beneath her cloak and stepped in close to complete the hand off. Kedamyr smiled reassuringly and leaned in close as he took the parcel, whispering loud enough for only her ears to hear, "Trust me, love."

Of course she did, but that was off script, too.

He turned back toward the gathered Kaldorei, "Brothers and sisters, Lord Ravencrest sent you and asked for proof of our support. Assurances of our commitment. I have all of that for you, and more. When you return to him, tell him of our guarantee to provide accurate reports from inside the Queen's sealed court. Let the identity of one of our finest agents, our sister-in-arms, give him confidence."

How dare he. Her chest tensed as he drew back her hood, exposing her silver hair and pale ears to the room. The mask was next, carefully untied and removed. He kept a hand on her back, steady, always steady. It was what had drawn her to him in the first place. "Enysria A'lora, one of the Queen's Starweavers."

The last name alone started a small ripple effect of recognition, but the title attracted quiet murmurs.

An armored woman of no consequence was the first to cast doubt, "How are we to trust anything she says? She is a danger to us, Kedamyr. Not a boon. Starweavers twist the world to the Queen's making, have you no fear that you're being deceived to her ends?"

"He is not," Enysria countered. "Yes, the Queen honored my family by choosing me to be a Starweaver. It is my lot to alter the weft of fate and all the burdens that I must endure as a result. There is a sickness at the heart of her court. Lord Xavius pulls at threads that will be the doom of us all. If I am to Starweave, if that is to be my lot, then I choose to Starweave for you. It is the greatest resistance to corruption that I can muster."

"Then why have you let other bands be put to the sword? Surely you've known they who they were, and could have done something," an armored man snapped — displeased.

He must have lost someone in one of the prunings. Enysria stared at him, taking in his silhouette and the make of him. As careful as anyone tried to be, the golden eyes and stately posture of someone in the Moon Guard would always out them. "So that you haven't needed to dirty your hands. No one knows the heart of this organization. The vast majority remains deeply shadowed. Those that come to light, and some distractions, are worth the sacrifice to ensure that we remain eternal."

She felt Kedamyr's pride as his thumb stroked between her shoulder blades.

Yserina sighed and waved her hand at the wisp that drifted through her trinket shelves. Elora had always taken after her meddlesome father. They had been trouble together, charm and charisma bled seamlessly through the Moonblade line.

Her eldest daughter stopped in front of an ancient, porcelain mask that lay between a cluster of amber animals and flakes of star obsidian.

The House creaked in the wind, settling deeper into Amirdrassil's soil and Yserina chuckled quietly. She'd kept so much from her children, and their children. She settled into her chair by the fire, the weight of it all heavier with each passing year, "I suppose I waited too long to tell you about my time with the Kaldorei Resistance. Come now, I'll spin you a story."

Elora's wisp meandered through the gnarled tree as the elderly woman lit her thin, ornate pipe and settled in to clear the air.

@daily-writing-challenge

[haveyouplayedthisttrpg]

Have you played THE LAUNDRY ?

By Gareth Hanrahan, Jason Durall and John Snead

Balancing the fight against Lovecraftian horrors and British bureaucracy, your team works for a secret division of the government intent on keeping the Old Ones at bay. And, more importantly, keeping them a secret from civilians.

"You’re a spy. Well, you are now, at least. Previously, you were someone who learned things humanity was not meant to know. Namely, that magic is real, it exists in the higher realms of mathematics, and it has some really messed up devotees. And if you know that much, then you’re not left with much of a choice — you work for the Laundry now."

There is a Kickstarter right now, ending soon, by Cubicle 7 games