#at least they aren't on the altar this time ��

[lil-vibes]

Day 23: The tent

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(prompt list here!) and lineart bellow :3

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 3 ]

{☆} characters neuvillette, wriothesley, furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

Wriothesley was not a man of superstition. He did not kneel at the altars until his knees bled, he did not pray until his voice gave out– he did not, contrary to popular belief, suffer divine punishment for his apparent lack of respect.

After all, what Divine would look so deep beneath the waves just for a glimpse of the sinners that inhabit it?

Not them, evidently.

He hadn't slept in the past four days, though. There was a heavy air of something where ever he walked– it followed him like a thick fog, lingering and choking him until it dragged him to his knees like a chain. His thoughts inevitably linger on the striking, extravagant letter so conveniently adorning his desk at the fortress– the broken wax seal, the letter tucked into his pocket.

He'd recognize the seal of the Iudex any day. Wasn't often he spoke to him– but the shaky, distorted words hastily etched into the paper made him pause. Neuvillette always had a steady hand– elegant, flowing script that him of flowing water.

It had kept him up for days.

The implications were..haunting. He'd poured over the letter for hours, illuminated only by faint light of his desk lamp. Yet no matter how many times he tries to see what must be hidden beneath the ink, the paper itself even, he finds nothing but the shaky script of a request that sends a bolt of pure frost through his veins.

He noticed, of course, the odd goings on of Fontaine. He'd heard vague whispers of the Divine's hunt for the imposter– he'd heard, too, of the ceaseless rain pelting Fontaine until even he wondered if the nation would finally sink beneath the waves.

It didn't, though. And that only made it all the more odd. Days of constant rain, just for it to stop suddenly..he tugged his coat tighter around him, throwing up the hood of the cloak clasped even tighter over it with a grunt as he leaned around the corner of the alleyway.

He didn't believe in superstition, but this was too hard to ignore as a simple weather anomaly.

Maybe that was why he ignored his gut– he knew that this was probably a trap, at the very least it was suspicious. But damn it, he couldn't ignore the instinct to follow the only lead he had.

His boots clicked against the rain stricken streets as he stalked through the shadows, mindful of the clinking of machine patrols just a few streets away. Yet every step felt heavier then the last as he took a long, good look at the Palais Mermonia. He almost considered bringing out his gauntlets, but he thought better of it– if it came down to it, he needed information. And he would need whoever was waiting for him alive for that– the dead don't speak and all that.

The letter's directions led him in a..rather roundabout entrance to a secluded room, evidently, as he lifted his hand and quietly knocked against the door. Two rapid knocks, pause, another knock, pause, four knocks. It doesn't take long until he hears the latch of the door unlock.

The leather of his gloves creaks as he clenches his fists, adjusting his stance. He's ready for a fight, if he must, but as the door quietly slides open he feel the weight on his shoulders relax slightly– the familiar, sharp features of Neuvillette meets him. He almost reflexively smiles at the way his pupils turn into thin slits, a momentary surprise that he quickly hides well behind a cough and the creak of the door as he pulls it open fully.

"Wriothesley. I see my letter has found you well. Please, come in." Polite as ever, Neuvillette steps aside to let him in, but he can see the exhaustion lining his features– the bags under his eyes aren't as well hidden as he thinks, at least to him. "Bit odd to be inviting me all the way out here in the middle of the night, don't you think?"

His tone is smooth as he steps into the room, brushing down his hood and glancing at Neuvillette over his shoulder, watching as he shuts and locks the door behind him.

"I apologize for the..less then ideal circumstances, but I'm certain you will understand when you see for yourself." He wants to retort, but the Iudex beats him to it, vaguely motioning to the room behind him. An invitation– but he wonders if it's worth taking.

His gut says no, but he's feeling a little risky today, he supposes.

He turns back slowly, barely able to make out the two figures he'd missed on the first glance on the other side of the room– though it's hard to mistake the flourish of the Hydro Archon, even in the dark. It's the other figure that makes the breath hitch in his throat, though.

Or maybe, more accurately, it freezes. So does his blood, his whole body even, locked in stasis for a long, tense moment– he can't see them clearly, but his instincts are going haywire. He can feel his vision almost rattle where it rests against his left shoulder, cold leaking through the layers of clothes and into his skin until he has to fight to suppress a shiver.

He'd always fancied himself the hunter– he was the one who dealt with unsavory folks, in the end. But he felt like a rabbit pinned beneath the crosshairs of a gun this time. He could almost feel the teeth of the bear trap snapping shut around him, crushing bone and flesh beneath cold metal.

For a long moment he thinks he feels fear.

And with a sharp click and a burst of light, it's gone and he takes a raspy, choked breath as he blinks away the blurriness in his vision, taking in the room illuminated by the lamp.

He's not sure what he sees is better, though.

Because his body knows that their Divinity is as real as the blood running through his veins.

So why do they remind him so much of himself? Why does he see the look of the boy who died in a pool of blood not his own in them?

It is a sick, cruel kind of familiar.

Wriothesley didn't believe in superstition– but that was born of the unknown. He knew, now. He could reach out and touch the truth with his own two hands.

The throne of the world was a lie.

The thing sitting on it bled red. And if it bled, it could die.

He clenched his fists tighter– and released, letting his shoulders slump with a huff and a half hearted chuckle. "I wasn't expecting you to be in possession of a wanted criminal when you sent me that letter." He could see the gears whirring in their heads, the subtle dampness in the air reminding him just how delicate a situation it truly was.

He wasn't particularly inclined to getting blasted by a jet of water today.

"Relax, I'm not going to spill to anyone else. Seriously– don't get my jacket wet. It's expensive and a nightmare to dry." His lips quirk into a half smile, but it twists into something almost genuine at the laugh covered up by a cough he hears from the Divine. Bingo.

"It's fine, Neuvillette. Let him go." Their voice is like honey dripping from their lips, and he has to close his jaw with his hand before they can see the way it dropped in his surprise. "Of course, most Divine. My apologies." He relaxes at the sharp click of his heels as he joins them on the bed, his posture far more relaxed then he's ever seen. The Hydro Archon, much to his confusion and amusement, is far too invested in playing with their hair to pay much attention to him now that things have calmed, evidently.

Huh.

They seemed pretty cozy about it, he noted. He guesses they three of them had some time to get acquainted.

"So..who's going to explain what the hell is going on?" He probed, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the three carefully– they all looked tired, but even through the exhaustion neither seemed inclined to stray too far from the Divine. "And what exactly your plan is? You can't keep hiding them here forever. Someone will sniff them out sooner or later."

"We are aware," Neuvillette interjects, lips pursed into a thin line and his thin brows furrowed. "But as I'm sure you've noticed, the hunt for the..forgive me, most Divine, but the hunt for the alleged imposter is still at it's peak."

He grumbles in acknowledgment, hanging up his cloak by the door and sliding out of his heavy coat, resting it over the back of a nearby chair. "Hm. Suppose that's why the patrols are so common now a days."

"I'm afraid so. As you can imagine, we cannot simply ask them to..stop the search. It would draw unwanted attention and suspicion. The Divine would be found immediately if we tried to bring them out of the city at the moment." Neuvillette added, looking proper and elegant, despite the circumstances– even in the face of the Divine and the Archon turning on him and tugging his hair into intricate braids. "So I hope you understand that it was a great risk to send you that letter."

He rubs his chin, huffing in amusement– a solid plan, maybe, but his power didn't extend too far out of the Fortress. He had his connections, sure, but what use were they when he had to get the, uh, "imposter" out of Fontaine? Smuggling them out wouldn't be easy, and then there's the point of where to take them they'd have to contend with.

"Yeah, yeah– I get it. But it's not like I can just smuggle them out or keep them in the fortress. Even if we got them out of the city, we'd have to find somewhere to bunker down, and if someone spots any of us lingering there.." Archons, what a mess he'd gotten himself into. He was really looking forward to the next time he could kick his feet up with a cup of tea.

"I understand. I have already made plans, in fact." Neuvillette hesitates, and he can feel the temperature drops a few degrees. "I..cannot share them in full at the moment, but it is not for a lack of trust." Neuvillette reasoned, hands folded neatly in his lap– not that it hid the way they shook slightly. He wanted to ask, but he thought better of it.

"Eh, I don't hold it against you. The walls have ears, even up here." He deflected, running a hand through his hair. He really hoped Sigewinne wouldn't ask too much when he gets back. "I trust your judgment." He hesitates for a long moment, pulling out a simple, neatly folded letter of his own.

"Memorize the code words, then burn it. I'll be waiting for your next letter." He murmurs, plucking his coat and cloak and tugging them back on one after another, shuffling back over to the latched door. He hesitates again, his hand lingering on the door.

"I just hope your plan is worth the risk, Neuvillette."

He leaves before he can respond, the harsh click of the door ringing in his ears even as he steps back into the shadows of the night.

[kitasgloves]

Arranged marriage au with SAKUSA KIYOOMI where you begged your parents to be married to him because he's your big fat crush since childhood. They agree to marry you over to him with the prospect of having a union between both of your families who are both incredibly wealthy.

Sakusa was not having it but reluctantly gets married to you anyway. He didn't like you one bit, he thought you were obnoxious and often invaded his personal space. But he hides his distaste from you for the sake of not starting drama.

You know nothing about Sakusa but you're determined to make him fall for you. So you planned a lot of things like dates, parties, and even gave him gifts. You always cooked him breakfast, made his bath, and cleaned the house the way he preferred. However, it seemed like every little effort to get him to return your affection was futile.

He brushed you aside and treated you as if your existence was insignificant. He didn't make time for you, he neglects you, and barely gives any gratitude to all the things you did for him. Of course, it hurts like shit, but you never gave up and persisted.

This only irritated Sakusa further, your constant attempts to woo him was seriously making him beyond annoyed. He snapped when you made an attempt to kiss him. He recoiled back.

"Get away from me, you're disgusting!"

Ouch. It seemed like it was your wake-up call. It's ridiculous that you've been married to Sakusa for three years yet you and him have never shared a kiss, aside to when you were both at the altar. All you had was sharing a bed with him and that's it, no hugs and no kisses. You decide that it's finally time to give up.

You ceased your planned dates and giving him gifts. You stopped cooking him breakfast too since he's been avoiding you by waking up early. This marriage was miserable especially when your husband doesn't even like you.

"I need a break"

You decide to pack your things and try traveling for a few weeks. You eagerly got prepared and left a note for Sakusa in a kitchen in case he came looking for you. But you doubt that he would give a shit where you would go. And now you're off!

"I'm home"

Sakusa announces but he's greeted with silence. He raises a brow and notices your shoes aren't at the door. The house felt empty without you walking around playing music or rushing over to him with a smile and a 'welcome home, honey!'. He sees your note in the kitchen and scoffs. Well, at least he's getting a break from you.

As days went by, Sakusa was beginning to feel restless. Every night the bed felt cold and he's starting to miss seeing you curled up in the other side of the bed. Sakusa starts to miss your cooking and your unexpectedly loud surprises. He misses getting gifts from you. He misses seeing your face whenever he gets home from work. He misses your voice, your smile, your scent.

Shit, what just happened? He's never been attached like this before. Sakusa wonders when you're going to return because his patience is wearing thin. He wonders if you missed him too.

Unfortunately for him, Sakusa barely crossed your mind as you ventured all over the city. You had the adventure of your life. Meeting new people and trying new things. It made you realize and appreciate your time alone with yourself. It was the breather you needed from your miserable marriage.

As you return back home, you find your affection and infatuation with Sakusa slowly decreasing.

"I'm home"

You said. Immediately, there's footsteps and a wild Sakusa greets you.

"You're back"

"Well, yeah. I live here"

Sakusa feels giddy finally seeing you home. He tries to help you with your luggage but you brush him off. He offers to cook you dinner but you said you have already eaten. When he follows you to the bedroom and tries to hold you in the bed, you recoil.

"What are you doing?"

"...Cuddling you?"

"I need to rest right now, Kiyoomi"

Kiyoomi? But you love to call him Omi. Days have passed since your long journey and Sakusa was beginning to realize that you were no longer the obnoxiously affectionate spouse that he has grown used to. You stopped trying to kiss or hug him, and throw surprises, and even giving him gifts. And when he makes an attempt to get closer, you pull yourself away from him.

This is bad. Just when he's beginning to fall for you, your feelings for him are beginning to fade. Now, here's Sakusa Kiyoomi, making every single fucking attempt to woo you and win your affection back because he didn't want to take you for granted. Because he wanted this marriage to work. Because he doesn't want to lose you.

I have this idea stuck in my head for hours. Just imagine Sakusa being dumb and stupid trying to win you back the same way you were trying to win his affection SJBSJSBSJSBSBAHAJSHS

[hillbillyoracle]

How to Create Downtime Menus

As a lot of my posts are, this one was inspired by a conversation with my partner. She seemed to think some of my ideas were helpful so I thought I'd write them up and share them here.

I use a combination of these ideas to do two things - redirect myself when I get stuck doomscrolling/freezing/obsessing and redirect myself when I'm stuck on the "must be good, must be productive" hamster wheel and can't seem to stop doing chores until I'm fucking exhausted or have pushed/hurt myself. Knowing you need to stop is one thing - knowing what to do instead is another.

Not all of these will work for every person at every time. Pick one or two that seem interesting and give them a whirl.

Habit of the Month

This is a small habit I can do in about 5-10 minutes a day. These are sometimes habits that I want to audition for my lineup or just want to focus on as a way of rebooting a given area of my life. Physical habits have been things like stretching, a walk, putting on moisturizer, drinking water, making tea, etc. Emotional habits have been things like stream of consciousness journaling, bullet journaling, recording myself venting, etc. Spiritual habits have been things like meditating, altar work, reading sutras, tarot readings, etc.

If I'm stuck in a loop and I haven't done that task yet, it serves as an easy win that feels moderately meaningful to accomplish. This is easier to do than longer or less interesting tasks.

Side Quests

These are little challenges I'd like to accomplish that are 100% fun and completely optional. They are specific and can me completed within a given time frame - usually a month. They usually aren't the most meaningful to keep them more fun and so I'm not letting myself down if I don't opt to complete it.

They've been things like:

The Minor Expert Challenge - read three books in one subject

The Kanopy Critic Challenge - use up all of my Kanopy credits that month

The Regal Freegal Challenge - download all the albums/songs I can on Freegal that month

The Monthly Playlist Challenge - create a playlist of the month where each song represents something about each day of that month; like a playlist diary

The Reverse Tarot Draw Challenge - pick/list a tarot card you best think represents each day of a given month or other time period; like a tarot card diary

The 100 Words Challenge - learn 100 words in a foreign language

As you can see, I prefer things that are pretty low energy friendly so I can work on them on days I'm super tired. Just little chronic illness things.

Alphabet Lists

I use these for my cleaning routines actually but I also have been trying them with my downtime. The way it works is you list out the alphabet and choose one self care or hobby task you'd like to do for each. They don't have to start with the same letter, it just serves as an easy way to limit how many you pick and keep track of what you've done. It's satisfying to cross off the whole list.

Tasks I put on these are things like

A - paint my nails

B - crochet a charity hat

C - write 5 letters for Letters Against Isolation

D - send a letter to a friend

E - play a solo rpg

F - play a solo board game

G - complete a puzzle

etc

They're fun tasks I'm not currently doing as often as I'd like but chill enough that it doesn't matter when precisely I do them more often. I try to pick tasks that are roughly 30 minutes to an hour long though some definitely take longer. I like to complete these roughly monthly but I try to complete a whole list before I start it again. Anything I just did not feel like doing and kept skipping gets scratched out and I rewrite a new list with new item to replace those. And I start again.

Whenever I'm like ugh I don't know what to do with myself, I try to pick at least one thing on the list and give it a try for 5 minutes. If I don't like it after that I can just put it away and pick something else.

10x10

10x10 lists are a different take on a similar idea. It's a list of 10 things you'd like to do at least 10 times in a given time period. Mine tend to be on the seasonal or annual timescale but maybe you're intense and prefer a monthly one. If I don't complete them in a given time period, I just continue with it until I'm done. Better to complete it on an altered timeline than not at all.

For me these tend to be slightly bigger tasks that take a little more planning or energy. I'm not totally sure why I use them this way since you could definitely use them for smaller tasks but that's just the space they occupy for me.

So examples of what would be on my list would be things like:

Grab a hot chocolate from the coffee shop (x10)

Complete a PokemonGo event (x10)

Have a spa night and watch a movie (x10)

Do something extra nice for my partner (x10)

Try a new game (x10)

Find a geocache (x10)

etc

Filing up a little 10x10 grid is pretty satisfying. Much more so than anxietying myself into my bed for the equivalent amount of time.

Seasonal Bucket Lists

I really enjoy making these though I really struggle with the current season (Spring) given my allergies. There's this idea my partner has told me about in DBT where you try to recall positive moments to help "build a life worth living". I think seasonal bucket lists are really good at helping with this for me. I look back on the seasons I made these lists way more fondly than the ones I didn't.

They generally center on seasonal activities I don't want to miss out on. So for summer that's stuff like going for a night swim/skinny dip, getting 5-10 good cloud photos, playing a yard game (like cornhole), seeing a street concert, etc. I also try to take pictures of those (if they don't already involve them) so I can reflect on them later and enjoy the residual happiness.

Conclusion

The point of these isn't to overwhelm you with options. It's just to have enough ideas prepped that you can find something no matter your energy level or time you're working with.

Remember - rest and enjoying yourself is necessary for human health. Folks how get good rest and experience flow states more regularly tend to heal better. People who spend time on what they enjoy are often more enjoyable to be around.

It's never a waste of time to make yourself happy.

[byherbandcandle]

Do you have any tips for starting to work with deities? There’s a lot of info and it’s kinda overwhelming.

I feel like deity work is something I sort of blundered my way into and ran with it, so I can't provide anything too in depth, and I know it's an experience that will be different for different people. But here's some things I've picked up in my personal practice and experience.

Start small. I know when I was a kid, I didn't have a lot of information. I found a list of various deities and wanted to find a way to work with all of them, without knowing anything about them really beyond your generic "So and so is the deity of this thing." So, I would definitely recommend against rushing into things and taking on too much. Get to know the deities, learn their stories, etc. Sometimes you might find a connection with you had previously never thought of.

Adding to that first point, don't try to work with too many at once. I feel like it's like learning most things: if you try to do too much before you're familiar enough with it, you might get overwhelmed or discouraged. Start by working with one deity. Learn about them, talk to them, call on them, leave them offerings. As you get more comfortable, you will find it easier to work with multiple deities.

Look for signs. These aren't always the same for everyone, but sometimes you will feel a deity reach out to work with you. Hera and Hecate both reached out to me in my active practice, and in both cases I couldn't shake the sudden desire to work with them. A former friend worked with Artemis because she would see deer in her yard and feel an undeniable connection to divinity.

It's okay to be the one to reach out to a deity. I've seen advice about how the deities should always be the ones to choose you. Maybe that's true with some deities, but, at the very least, not all. Some are absolutely happy when you make the first move. I sometimes feel like Hestia was always with me, and she was just politely waiting for me to invite her in.

Deities are allowed to say no! This is a big one. I've seen people get discouraged because they worked with a deity in spellwork, but they didn't the result they wanted. A few vented about how they'd never work with that deity again. It can be easy to fall into mindset, especially when it's something you had really set your heart on. But sometimes it just means the universe has a different plan for you. A good example was when I appealed to Aphrodite again and again in hopes of getting back with my ex, but I think she knew that he and I were destined for a more platonic love (he's still my dearest friend to this day), and that my soul mate was, in fact, 600 miles away. Deities don't say "no" as way to punish us, but as a way of guiding us. (But it's valid to feel disappointed and such when those moments happen. We are only human).

Offerings are nice, but I think the gods understand that they can't always be promised. I see people steer clear of deity worship because they aren't able to leave physical offerings for one reason or another (not able to light incense in an apartment, having to hide their practice, finances make buying that extra little treat impossible). Offerings don't always have to be physical. A prayer or little note of gratitude goes a long way. Plus acts of devotion are an offering (self care days for Aphordite, spending a little extra time tidying the kitchen for Hestia, being scared but doing the thing anyway for Ares).

Don't compare your journey with deities to others. I think this is the biggest piece of advice younger me needed in all aspects of things. But definitely applies here. If someone works exclusively with one deity, has a whole altar dedicated to them, and has devoted their life to that deity? Hell yeah. That's great. If someone else feels a more casual type of connection with their deities and talk to them like they're besties? Unconventional, but everyone's path is different. It may come naturally to you, or you may find yourself still having to double-check things five years later. Do what works for you, whatever that may look like.

And finally, one of the most important things to keep in mind: not all deities are open. If a deity belongs to a practice or pantheon that's closed to you, that means the deity is as well.

This wasn't as eloquent as I'd hoped, but I really hope it helps!

[zablife]

Broken Promises

Henry Johnson/Michael Gray x fiancee reader

Summary: When your fiancé leaves you at the altar, you go in search of answers in a frightening, new city. As you close in on him, you find that you aren't prepared for the man he has become.

Author's Note: Requested by a lovely anon.

Warnings: broken engagement, implied SA, mention of execution, Michael being an ass, heavy angst

1921, Kent

As your grandmother's shaky hands finished pinning your veil in place, she beamed with pride. "Even more beautiful than your mother was when she wore it," she mused, wiping a tear from her eye. "I only wish she was here to see you, love."

"I have you," you reminded her, reaching forward to wrap your arms around the only family member you had left in the world.

Prying you away from her delicate frame, she gazed upon you with affection that creased every well worn line of her soft skin. Eyes glistening with tears, you noted a tinge of sadness as she admitted, "But now you have Henry." Squeezing your hands for emphasis, she confided, "I'm glad he'll be here to look after you when I'm gone."

You wanted to tell her that wouldn't be for a long time, but a sharp knock interrupted your thoughts. "Is the bride ready?" a cheerful voice chirped from the other side.

Opening the heavy oak door, you were greeted warmly by your future mother-in-law, cheeks as rosy as the apples in her orchard as she bustled into the room to add her compliments. "Aren't you a beauty!" she exclaimed.

"You're too kind," you demurred as she proceeded to tell you how pleased she was for her son.

"Have you seen Henry this morning? Is he well?" you asked excitedly, wondering how your love had fared the night before.

Since your meeting two years ago, at the tender age of sixteen, neither of you had gone a day without meeting at the wishing well at the center of your village. Sitting upon the shining white bricks, you shared the small details of your day. It might have seemed mundane to others, but it gave you a sense of comfort to know there was nothing you didn't share with one another.

Rosemary shook her head with a good natured chuckle as she admitted, "You know, in all the fuss, I haven't seen my own son!"

Her lighthearted reply made you giggle because she was accustomed to such lapses, forgetting the bread in the oven or leaving her spectacles tucked in a book.

Then in classic fashion, she overshared a bit as she patted your hand, "You know you needn't worry about the stag party. He promised his father he'd only drink mild."

"I'm not worried, Mrs. Johnson," you replied, stifling a laugh.

"Rosemary, dear," she corrected you. "And I'm certain if he isn't here, he'll be along shortly."

You nodded in agreement, smiling to yourself in the full length mirror as you brushed the lace away from your face to study your reflection carefully.

---------------------

1924, Birmingham

The curtains in your bedsit flapped lightly in the wind, waking you with a start. A cough erupted from your lungs, unaccustomed to the smoke filled air of the city. What could have brought your fiancee to this God forsaken place?, you wondered as you rushed to close the window.

You made yourself a cup of tea and sat quietly watching the passersby, hoping by some miracle Henry would stroll by, though you knew from the papers he was locked away in a prison cell. Or at least, that's what you'd come to believe after staring at the smudged ink for too long, convinced he was now a man called Micheal Gray. Though it turned your stomach to think he was accused of murdering a priest, it was the only lead you'd found in three years time.

But in the fortnight since your arrival, you hadn't learned anything new, despite your efforts. The only other trace of Henry since your wedding had been an unreliable account by a lad who claimed he saw he a strange man with a scar speaking with Henry weeks before your wedding, rumors of a new life in Birmingham sprinkled into the conversation.

As you gazed down at the ring languishing on your finger, you wondered if he ever thought of you late at night, yearning for those moments of connection by the well. Did he even care that he'd left you all alone at the altar or worse yet, at the graveside of your beloved grandmother a month later? The heart break had nearly been too difficult to bear.

Now all you had to guide you was a whisper, a faded conversation in which Henry had been lured by the promises of a dark, foreboding stranger. This was probably why you'd forgiven his lapse of judgement, the concern for his wellbeing outweighing the anger you held in your heart. However, the second ring you wore, your grandmother's gold band, burned your skin as it reminded you of your worth which was far more than that assigned to you by your absent lover.

The combination of curiosity and indignation propelled you forward, day by day, searching the city for those who could provide answers. Usually the day ended with aching feet and a rumbling stomach, but today your efforts would be rewarded by a chance encounter with a dark haired woman, children clinging to her skirts.

You were buying a loaf of bread in the market when one of their small hands began to reach for you, their mother scolding them with a harsh slap.

"It's alright," you assured her. "Far too much for me on my own. I'm glad to share."

"Thank you," the wild eyed woman remarked, accepting your generosity. "Times are hard with my husband away. Yours locked up as well?" she ventured, casting a look at your ring.

Unsure how to reply, you lowered your eyes to the cobblestones beneath your feet as she prattled on about her John and how he'd been falsely accused thanks to her evil brother-in-law. "Not just him, mind you, everyone else in the family," she bemoaned as she fed the bread to her children. "Arthur, Polly, Michael..." she rambled absently as she tore the crust apart in even pieces.

"Did...did you say Michael? As in Michael Gray?" you stuttered hopefully.

"You know him?" she asked, head jerking up at the mention of his surname.

"Yes," you admitted, on an uneven breath. "Do you know where I can find him?"

-----------------

It was thru her suggestion that you met with the inspector bringing charges in the case. Chester Campbell was a disagreeable man, but the only one willing to discuss matters with you privately. For that you thanked him profusely, though in an hour's time you would not have done the same.

He had only one motive in sequestering you inside an interrogation room and the instant the door slammed behind you, your heart sank with the bitter realization of his true intentions. If you wanted Michael free, or if you wanted your own freedom for that matter, he suggested you comply with every devilish command he gave.

By the time he was finished, you were shaking in violent convulsions. As he draped a coat around you to conceal the tattered remains of your dress, you slipped away into the bustling street with an official document clutched tightly to your chest. It was your only solace in those dark hours that followed, waiting for the promised release of the man you only hoped would never learn of your sacrifice.

----------------------

You entered a new state of watchful waiting those next few days as you kept regular meetings with Esme. She kept you abreast of the news regarding the trial, mostly family matters that wouldn't be known to reporters. And though she urged you to see Michael before it was too late, you found yourself averse to the idea until one fateful day.

Finding Esme slumped over in a fit of grief, you ran to her. "What's happened?" you begged.

"Ain't you seen the papers?" she wailed.

You only shook your head in ignorance, a hand stroking along her back as she pitched forward in garbled cries. "They're....they're being executed."

The blood froze in your veins as you processed her words, wondering if this was truly the end of it all.

"You're sure?" you asked, swallowing the lump in your throat. As she nodded against your shoulder you had only one question left. "When?"

"At dawn."

---------------------

The next morning you waited by the prison gate, hands pounding against the splintering wood until your fists were raw and aching. But no one paid any attention to the woman raving beneath their window. And who could blame them when you pleaded for the life of a killer?

By the time the clock tower struck twelve, you knew in your heart that the deed was done. Henry? Micheal? Whoever the man you once loved had been in life was no more. You sank to your knees and sobbed in a way you hadn't allowed yourself since your wedding day. Three long years of pain and sacrifice for this, you thought.

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, you finally found the strength to pick yourself up and amble toward the road. However, a harsh creak of metal stopped you in your tracks. Turning to face the path you'd just walked, you could hardly believe your eyes as you caught sight of Henry standing bruised and battered, but alive nonetheless.

Your breath caught in your throat as your hand reached out toward him involuntarily, years of longing superseding your rational mind. "H-henry?" you called to him.

The man before you furrowed his brow for a moment as he reached into his pocket for a cigarette. He looked as though he were lost in a daze as he took his time lighting it, the glowing match in his hand quivering slightly. You could tell that the years had aged him, but not beyond total recognition. Somewhere beneath the hardened exterior was the boy you knew long ago in the countryside and you longed for him to hold you in his arms once more.

However, your daydream was cut short when he replied gruffly, "What do you want?"

You stepped toward him cautiously, head tilted as you took in his disheveled appearance. His waist coat was dirty and torn, pants far too short for his height and yet he still looked as handsome as you remembered. Then you wondered if perhaps he was having trouble recalling you as well due to the recent trauma.

"It's me...Y/n," you offered gently. "I came to find what became of you," you answered earnestly. "I...I was worried."

He raised his head to the sky, considering the passing clouds for a moment before blowing a lungful of smoke upward to join them. "Well you don't have to worry anymore. I'm fine," he assured you, placing the cigarette between pursed lips.

You shook your head at his cool detachment, eyes searching his for the hint of the caring young man you once knew. "You were sentenced to hang today and that's all you have to say, Henry?"

"That's not my name," he corrected you sternly. "I go by Michael now."

"Yes, I know," you mumbled in confusion.

"Look, if you came about our engagement..." he began, a threatening scowl crossing his face as he plucked the cigarette from his lips in a telling reveal he knew exactly who you were.

"No, I see that's long forgotten," you admitted with a heavy heart. "But I want you to know I still care for you deeply," you ventured on baited breath.

He hummed to himself gently as he nodded in agreement, "I know.." Then stilling all movement he replied without a hint of emotion, "The guards told me what you did."

Your body clenched in fear at the prospect of him learning your shameful secret, but you stood fast waiting to hear what else he might say. As his mouth curled into a small smile, you allowed yourself a morsel of hope, until he spat cruelly, "They thought it was funny."

You shifted uncomfortably before him, chest aching with shattered pride as he huffed out a humorless laugh at your expense.

"I suppose it is," he decided before turning his heel into the gravel decisively, leaving you alone in the freezing shade of the empty yard.

"Wait!" you shouted, racing toward him to capture his arm between desperate fingertips. "You can't mean that. I know you cared for me once too. What happened?" you begged, tears streaming down your face.

As he flicked his cigarette butt into the street, he eyed you in a side long glance. "You think you know me, but you never understood," he said with a shake of his head.

"That's not true," you insisted, twisting his arm to make him look at you. "You loved our life...you loved...me," you stuttered out between hiccuped sobs, all the pent up emotion rising to the surface. "Don't you remember all those wonderful afternoons we spent at the wishing well?"

The clench of his jaw and the ironlike grip against your hand frightened you, but it was nothing in comparison to the spiteful look in his eye when he finally faced you.

"Do you know all the times I thought about planting dynamite beneath those pretty white bricks to blow you to hell?" he seethed.

You jerked your hand away in terror just as he released you, falling to the ground with a painful thud. "Henry?" you mumbled as you looked up at him in shock.

"I already told you, that's not who I am anymore," he hissed before stalking away and as you watched him disappear into the smoke and fog, you finally had to concede that he was right. The boy who promised to cherish you forever was gone. He'd been replaced by some monster now wandering the dark and desolate streets of his new home, a place where you did not belong.

---------------

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[thewitchinthecloset35]

Beginner Witch Starting Points

° . * • ☆ Research starting points ☆ • * . ° The following list is of topics that I believe are good research starting points for beginner witches. I've laid it out in a couple lists of what I consider the most important to research early down to things you may want to research depending on interests.

Important to research early

♡ How to read critically and cross-reference

> Research is huge in witchcraft, knowing how to find the right information and triple check it's not wrong is very important

♡ Witchcraft vs paganism

♡ History of witchcraft

♡ Open vs closed practices

♡ Cultural appropriation

♡ Discernment/Mundane vs magical

> Always ruling out mundane explanations or options before considering magical

♡ Types of witches

> Such as sea witches, kitchen witches, green witches

♡ Types of magic/practices

> Such as art magic, lunar magic, chaos magic

♡ Types of spells and rituals

> Such as spell jars, candle spells, sprays

♡ Basic spell work

> Such as cleansing, grounding, protection, warding

♡ Understanding Intention

♡ Altars and Tools

> Such as wands, tarot decks, bells

Researching interests

♡ The elements

♡ Symbols and sigils

♡ Item associations and correspondences

> Such as crystals, herbs, colours

♡ Dream interpretation

♡ Religions and deities

♡ Shadow work

♡ Whatever has caught your eye during researching so far, research some more

° . * • ☆ Practice starting points ☆ • * . °

As soon as you feel like you've got a good grasp on witchcraft, you'll want to start practising. With everything you've come across, it might prove overwhelming or confusing as to where to start. Some topics are more advanced than others and aren't considered beginner-friendly. Therefore, having practised and got a hold of some basics is a great way to begin your journey, and is always recommended by other practitioners. That way, if you accidentally step too deep too early, you're already equipped with the information, tools, and experience you need to look after yourself.

It's easy to get excited and rush through it to what you may truly want to do, however, I suggest practising the following topics until it becomes a habit and you can throw up protections and wards like second nature without any notes. It depends on how much time you can dedicate to this daily and whether there are any reasons you might have to slow down, such as being broom-closeted or having children. I would suggest 1 to 2 years overall for researching all the topics in-depth and practising it until you have at least one method of each nailed down confidently with no doubts in your ability or knowledge - and be honest with yourself on that.

Where to begin with practising witchcraft

♡ Grounding and meditation

♡ Cleansing

♡ Protection

♡ Circle casting

♡ Warding

♡ Enchanting items

° . * • ☆ Where to get information and resources ☆ • * . °

The internet is amazing for allowing people to write their own informational posts, blogs, and to make their own videos. Sometimes a simple google search for what you’re after will bring you loads of results, which is also why reading critically and being able to cross-reference is so important. You can find resources and information anywhere, such as:

♡ Youtube

♡ Tumblr

♡ Websites

♡ Books

> Ebooks, audiobooks, physical books

♡ Podcasts

♡ Pinterest infographics

♡ Discord servers

♡ Amino communities

This is an updated version of my old post https://thewitchinthecloset35.tumblr.com/post/656426177696874496/beginner-witch-friendly-research-points

[khaire-traveler]

🧜🏾‍♂️Subtle Triton Worship 🐚

Blow into a conch shell, especially when by the ocean or a body of water

Clean up trash by the ocean shore or any body of water

Go swimming, especially in the ocean; play pool games

Go diving (Safely, please)

Get a candle that reminds you of him; no altar needed

Wear jewelry that reminds you of him

Keep a picture of him in your wallet

Help any beached sea creature you stumble across (Or any fish that wash up on a lake and are alive)

Learn about the invasive species in any bodies of water in your area; advocate for their removal, and remove them if you come across any (And are able to do so safely)

Collect any seashells or pretty stones you come across near water

Have a fish, dolphin, horse, or crab stuffed animal

Have imagery of the ocean (especially the deep sea), conch shells, tridents, sea creatures/plants, and merfolk (especially those with two tails or dolphin tails) around

Try eating seafood or seaweed (Be aware that many people are often allergic to shellfish!!! Shrimp, crabs, lobsters, etc.)

Keep a pet fish or water dwelling creature; be sure to research the animal first to ensure quality of life under your care

Stay hydrated; drink lots of water throughout the day

Drink warm water with honey stirred in

Donate to or support ocean/river/lake-focused organizations or animal shelters

Learn about the deep sea marine life; learn about any form of marine life

Go sailing, paddle boarding, kayaking, etc. (Safely)

If you don't know how to swim, take swimming lessons or have someone teach you; always wear a lifejacket or floaties for your safety, until you feel comfortable with your skill

Practice asserting yourself and standing your ground; do your best to assert your personal boundaries; take time to learn what your boundaries are if you aren't sure

Take a warm shower/bath when you feel overwhelmed; use the water to cleanse and relax you

Leave a glass of water on your windowsill for the night or day; either replace or drink it after a few hours (you don't need to have water there constantly, it's just a once in a while thing)

Keep a jar of seaglass; make art from it or simply put it in the light, it'll look great either way

Collect ethically sourced shark teeth; collect ethically sourced fossils of ocean creatures

Learn to play the trumpet, trombone, French horn, or other brass instrument

Embrace your inner strength; celebrate how far you've come and how resilient you are

Ground yourself near a body of water, particularly the ocean; allow yourself to be one with the waves or subtle ripples of water; match your breath to the tide if you can

Fall asleep/meditate to the sound of ocean waves or sea creatures

Wash your hands/face with salt water

Dance/sing to music that makes you feel empowered or badass

-

This one was definitely tough because I struggled to find historical accounts of Triton being worshipped. Typically, I can draw some ideas from that if I'm not familiar with a deity, but Triton didn't have many records of worship, despite being widely accepted as Poseidon and Amphitrite's son. He was mostly known as Poseidon's herald, and in some accounts, he was even Athena's foster parent, yet there is still such little information about him to be found.

At least for now, this is my list of discreet ways to worship Triton. I hope to be able to add more in the future, and I hope that it's still helpful to people as is. Take care, y'all, and chill with the waves. 💚

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

[turtlecleric]

Tmnt 2003 content 🍽👉👈👀?

I don't take requests buuuuut

Hey what if 03!Leo was much older when he went through his struggles in Season 4?

-

When you hear the sharp knocks on your window, you waste no time letting him in. 

As he crawls through, you take in the twist of his mouth. The furrow of his brow. He looks more and more angry every time he visits, and you wonder if maybe this time he'll actually want to talk about what's bothering him instead of-

“Clothes off. Now.”

Or not. 

He was sweet in the beginning. All charm and smiles, feather light touches and constant check-ins. Making sure you were okay with this, making sure you were comfortable. Now… well, you wouldn't call him mean… but you certainly wouldn't call him sweet. 

“On your knees.”

You obey perfectly. This is something that's become ingrained in you, something that was present even before he… changed. It's something you're proud of. Something he's proud of. Or… something he used to be proud of, at least. 

“Open.”

You aren't stupid. You can put things together. There was a stretch of time, a long while when you didn't see him. Then, when he finally returned to your fire escape once again, there was a new, nasty scar that he pointedly refused to acknowledge and a glaring difference in the way he carried himself. An ever-present frustration that now lived and breathed and only grew within him over time, something that bordered on hatred but was never spoken of. Still, you heard it. You felt it.

Before, you had to actively encourage him to be rougher. Practically beg him to so much as spank you. He didn't want to hurt you, he'd say. No, he would never call you that, he'd insist. Even when you specifically asked, even when you reminded him, over and over, that you liked it, he'd hesitate. He’d hold back, go easy, take it slow, and even then he'd apologize profusely right after he did- anything remotely painful. It had been a little exasperating, but… it was sweet, too.

No longer. 

There are tears in your eyes. Your jaw aches. Your knees are bruised from the floor, and he doesn't slow down even when you gag. But you can't complain - this is what you'd asked him for, isn't it? What you'd wanted? It is. 

And it isn't. 

Either way, you obey. You're good, you're so good for him. He used to tell you as much, but now there are only the noises of pleasure you've become accustomed to. You curl your fingers into the thick muscles on his thighs, keeping your eyes locked on his like you know he likes. Before, he might've run his fingers lovingly through your hair. Now, both hands push you further onto his cock. Unrelenting and firm.

“On the bed. Hands and knees.”

He likes to be in control. Lots of guys do, sure, but his control used to look… different, that's all. He used to say things differently. Softer. Kinder. He used to settle between your legs like someone kneeling at an altar. He used to sink inside of you like he was coming home. Now he… well. If you're being honest with yourself, you know he's using you to get out some of what's eating him alive. It's not enough, though. Even you can see that. 

You focus on his hands. They grip your hips hard enough to bruise. Slap your ass and thighs until you shake. Tangle in your hair, wrap around your throat, push and pull and put you into the positions he wants. His fingers, rough and strong, deft and quick, rip two orgasms out of you before he comes with a growl. 

After, you lie there. Watching him move about your apartment. Methodically cleaning himself and you, silent as the moon and just as mysterious. You think of the person he is (used to be?) and what you see now, and you… miss him. He's right here, but you miss him. 

He finishes quickly, barely glancing your way as he mutters quiet, meaningless pleasantries to wrap up the night. He used to linger. Lie with you beneath the sheets and press kisses into your hair and whisper pretty words through smiling lips. 

“Leo.”

“What?”

That gruff response has you steeling your resolve. He's not even looking at you. 

“Whatever happened… I know you don't want to talk about it-” You see every line of his body tense, sharp eyes cutting to yours in the semi-darkness. “-but if you did. I'm here for you. For… more than just sex. You know that right? That you can talk to me?”

He's still for a long, long moment. Watching you. Then he nods stiffly, and turns away. 

“Yeah. I know.”

He leaves. He leaves, but you feel less alone now than when he was here.

“I miss you,” you mumble into your pillow. 

Outside, hidden in shadow, Leo sighs. “Me too.”

-

tag list: @yorshie @luckycharms1701 @thejudiciousneurotic @khayalli @justalotoffanfiction @thelaundrybitch @mxalmighty @shakeyourtrees @silverwatergalaxy

[wishful-seeker]

How to Make Your Own Spells

(Or at least this is how i do it)

What makes a spell?

In my opinion, a spell or ritual is the physical act of manipulating the energy around and within us to achieve a specific goal. A spell can look like anything from a few spoken words, like a prayer, to weeks long complicated rituals. You can attempt to cast a spell with nothing but your voice and some intent, or a whole pile of ingredients and tools.

How do spells work?

If we look at rituals in folklore there are a few characteristics that most spells share, but every one is unique, and spells have worked for a looong time even with no set rules for them. In folklore, witchcraft has reoccurring traits, like the number 13 "dance around X 13 times", dancing is also mentioned often, and black animals like black hens, black cats, and black goats. But times have changed, we aren't okay with harming animals for spells, and thousands of people don't use the number 13 or dancing. So why do spells still work even though they all look completely different?

I like to think we as humans have innate power within us that we can choose to utilize in our own unique way. Some spells work really well for the people who made them, but don't do squat for others trying to cast them. I think this is because the act of making a spell or ritual personal, whether you made it from stratch or altared someone elses, is similar to signing a piece of your artwork. You create a bond with those specific actions with you energy, like putting a spiritual signature on it. I think this allows us to utilize our personal magic easier.

I think spells work no matter how they look because the one thing each spell has in common is that we are making a petition to the world and ourselves that we want to make something happen, and because we all have a little bit of magic in us, we can make these things happen.

It doesn't hurt to get friendly with the land spirits of your home, or your ancestors or what-not to help you preform magic. Its very likely outside help will increase spell success.

So how do i make a spell?

You can either be simple or extra with this.

First decide your goal or intent. The more specific, the better. I believe magic follows the path of least resistance so if you aren't very specific with your ask, things might happen in unpredictable ways. Saying "I want a promotion in my current job and enough money to move to a better place." Is better than "i want a better life."

Secondly decide if you want ingredients or tools. This could be herbs that you research correspondences for or crystals you research the metaphysical properties of. This could be items like a skeleton key, a feather you found, maybe a letter someone wrote. I find spells to be more powerful and easier to enjoy and connect with if you use sentimental items you feel particularly drawn to. You don't always need ingredients that have set correspondences, its okay to use things just because you have a good feeling about it or to put your own personal correspondence on things including trinkets, herbs, and crystals. When it comes to tools, like a pendulum, wand, or scrying mirror, you can use these if they feel fun, but they are not always necessary. Some tools can be very helpful in spells, pendulums and scrying mirrors can be used to speak with spirits during your ritual.

Next figure out what you want the spell to look like. This is where your creativity shines. You could do the classics everyone knows: spell bottles, spell candles, and sachet spells. Or you can do what intuitively feels right to you. I personally arrange my ingredients in a pretty way intuitively on a plate then light a candle on the plate, but spells can look like anything. Like i said before, in folklore there is a lot of dancing. A spell could be a dance you do around a fire, or for astral travel dance until you fall and leave your body. A spell can be an art project, perhaps a collage of pictures of things related to your spell. A spell could be something you cook and eat. Let your imagination go wild.

Next thing is optional but i feel like it helps. Im sure you have heard of wiccans casting a circle before each spell to trap certain energies in for the spell. You can do this but i personally like the opposite: creating a liminal space and thinning the veil to really open up to all the energy around me. You can create a liminal space either by being in one ex: at a crossroads, in the woods, at midnight, dusk, and dawn. Or you can make one by creating a 3 or 4 crossroads shape like you would cast a circle. These are both optional though.

Next lets talk about charging your spell and how to actually put energy into it. Again, you can do anything you want. You can charge by dancing, moving clockwise, singing, playing an instrument, meditating, visualizing energy coming from your hands or wand, anything you feel drawn to. For me personally i have to speak my intent allowed and imagine what it'll look like when my spell succeeds to charge it.

If you need inspiration for spells, folklore, fairytales, and stories in general can give you a good idea on what would be fun to do.

Hope this helps, stay punk.

[theminecraftbee]

more seriously i'm realizing the thing that makes it hard to go back to vanilla minecraft for me is that vault hunters, and then modded as a whole, is way less... self-guided than vanilla. like, okay, no, you can play modded in a very free, self-guided way, like if you just install create and go ham the progression is very similar to vanilla. but in something like vault hunters or another modpack, there are often quest systems that give you concrete goals as you go that help like... scaffold what you're doing. it makes it easier for my brain to latch on to. but it's not just that; it's ALSO that, by the nature of certain things in modded, i have ways to set my own progression goals WELL PAST the 'endgame' of minecraft that aren't just 'build a really big thing', and give me a sense of being Better and More Efficient now.

like, okay. in my current vault hunters playthrough i am level 90. i have been playing since like, september i think? normally by now in vanilla i've hit endgame and don't really need anything else and then i quit. but in vault hunters, even though i've very reached endgame there, i have things i can do that will give me a real sense of Actual Progression. on the vault hunters end, my Actual Progression goal is to make my divine paradox vault as good as possible and unlock some of the god armor transmogs. on the modded end, i am DEEP in mekanism and can go 'well, if i make a fusion reactor i can make antimatter, which will make me REALLY post-scarcity, but also means i'll be generating power that doesn't risk exploding and is more effective than my current fission reactor is. maybe i'll quintuple ores while i'm at it.'

and yeah, those are ALSO an unnecessary self-directed goals! they're basically the equivalent of 'i should build a megabase' in terms of absurd resource grind and being unnecessary! but at the end i get something Tangible that makes me Better At Game, which makes it feel like i'm accomplishing something a little better than giant builds tend to for me. like, at the end of my god altar arbitrary goal, i get something. at the end of my mekanism arbitrary goal, i get something. but ALSO i get something at every grindy step along the way, too, and at least FOR ME, modded is better than vanilla at giving me rewards for my progress?

and this isn't me saying there SHOULD be more 'rewards' for progress in vanilla minecraft; part of the whole POINT of minecraft is that it's open-ended and self-driven. it's just that that's also the reason that the moment i make it to the end in one of my minecraft playthroughs i'm like. well i could grind for netherite but i don't like building that much so i guess it's time to pack it up and do something else instead. for someone else, having so many concrete goals would feel railroady and break the 'progression', or lack thereof, of vanilla minecraft! i get that.

they're different playstyles and it makes perfect sense why someone might prefer one to the other is what i'm saying, but like, if you've only ever tried to play modded in packs WITHOUT a quest or progression system to help guide you, let this be me saying "no i actually think that's an integral part of the first time playing modded experience in order to GET why people like modded", yeah?

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Reunion

Kinktober Day 1

I'm not using prompts for this, just writing what I feel like each day. Today's song is Sober by Lorde.

Doe stumbled home to the little hovel she'd settled into in the lower city. Cradled in her palm was an orb, swirling with smoke. It was warm to the touch. She closed and locked her door, padded down to her basement on soft-booted feet. With care, she placed the orb on the table in the corner; it might once have been a hidden altar, stubs of candles bleeding wax into the smooth surface. She replaced them with fresh candles from the stash in the chest on the opposite wall and lit them with a murmur.

'I hope this works,' she said aloud. Perching on the rickety chair, she took a deep breath, placed her hands either side of the orb and let its warmth suffuse her.

When she opened her eyes, she was gazing on a richly appointed office; plush red leather sofas, a dark panelled desk, the glow of a hundred candles in braziers. And there, lounging, the devil who'd been following her almost since the moment she'd crashed into the sword coast.

He was sipping wine that glowed ruby red in the light, apparently unconcerned.

So he's home. If I tell the others, we might have a chance.

With a gesture, Raphael conjured a second glass, poured more wine. Doe frowned, trying to peer at the door to see if he had company.

And then he glanced over his shoulder, transfixing her with his infernal yellow eyes, smiling with sharp teeth.

He can see me, she realised with the cold slip of dread in her belly. Fuck.

He snapped his fingers, and with a jolt she was yanked from her realm into his own.

'Spying, little mouse?' He tilted his head, an indulgent smile playing around his mouth. 'That's unlike you. You're usually so sweetly straightforward.'

What could she say to that?

'Idle curiosity,' she tried.

He tutted, standing. 'You're a bad liar. I'll let it go, this time.' Reaching out, he took her jaw in his clawed hand; his cambion form dwarfed her. 'Hmm. Drink.' He lifted the goblet of wine he'd conjured to her lips. Scowling, she drank, feeling the burn of something fortified slide down her throat. 'Delicious, isn't it?'

'Hmm,' she said noncommittally.

'You're desperate to kill me, aren't you?'

'I'm not desperate for anything.'

That was a lie, too. She'd been making plans since the shadow cursed inn, where she'd witnessed him preying on Mol.

'Keep lying to me,' he said softly. 'And see how well that goes for you.'

'I'm not lying.' She wrenched her jaw from his grip and stepped back. His tail thrashed in anger, mouth a thin disapproving line. 'Take me back home.'

His eyes glittered, alight with savage glee. 'No. If you will use those lovely eyes of yours to spy on me, the least you can do is allow me this. Have you come to make a deal, mouse?'

'No.'

'Then what,' he said, voice low and dangerous as he stalked forward, eyes narrowing as she backed toward the desk, 'do you want?'

A dangerous question.

She shrugged. Her heart was racing, the reality of her situation sinking in. Some part of her was singing in triumph and the rest was damn near terrified. She searched his gaze, saw the sparks of hunger and desire.

Gale had been right. The devil was desperate.

'Depends. What do you want?'

He growled, lifted her with one arm to settle her on his desk. 'I want your soul,' he rasped. 'And if I cannot have it I'll settle for possessing your body and haunting your mind.'

She dug her hands into the desk to stop their anxious trembling. He surged forward to envelop her in the heat of lips and tongue, the pleasure-pain of tooth and claw; raking a hand down her back, the soft leather of her armour in shreds beneath, red scratches raising on her skin. She gasped into his mouth, pushed her hands against his chest. He broke away with a smirk.

'Well?' he purred. 'What's your answer?'

'Yes,' she said breathlessly. 'The answer is yes. Make good on your threats, devil.'

He tangled his clawed hand in her hair, pulling her head back to kiss and mark her throat, drawing whimpers from her lips. Every one was satisfying, but when he pushed the ruins of her armour from her shoulders and closed his teeth on her shoulder, he moved his hands to her legs, divesting her of the soft leather to reveal soft unmarked skin.

'This won't do,' he breathed into her ear. 'So unmarred. I won't have it, mouse. Tomorrow you will look in the mirror and the only thing you will see is me.'

He grasped the plushness of her thighs, warm rivulets of blood welling under his touch. She hardly cared; to be desired was to be hurt. Her head swam with overwhelm, nose filled with cherries and smoke, the taste of his lips on her tongue, the gentle, dark rumble of his voice in her ears. She was almost outside of her body, a creature of sensation. Her eyes fluttered closed momentarily as he murmured words that he didn't mean, too sweet not to be poison.

And then fire, heavy and searing, as he sheathed himself within her. She screamed and it mingled in the air with his triumphant laugh. His weight crushed into her, pressing her into the desk, unable to move. He captured her lips again, tongue roughly catching drops of blood, his hum of satisfaction rumbling in her chest, his groans of pleasure in her own throat.

She came with little warning, crashing into starbursts behind her eyes, clinging with blunt nails to his shoulders. His hand slid to her lower back as she went limp, his pace vicious and focused. He licked and bit and kissed every part of her he could reach, chased and chased and took from her body and drew more pleasure from her, more screams, more, and more, and more, and then more still-

and then he roared as he came, filling her with near unbearable heat, pulling her to his chest and settling into the leather seat again. She was exhausted and aching, soft and pliant against him, accepting more wine with no complaint.

'This will never happen again,' she murmured.

'Of course it won't,' he agreed, though he'd not bothered to remove himself from her little mortal body just yet. 'Go to sleep, mouse.'

It's not safe, she thinks through the fog of exhaustion. But better the devil you know.

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[littlesparklight]

Some general thoughts on the gods on Troy's side, and why they might be:

Aphrodite: Presumably out of affection for her son, Anchises, and Paris. Very potentially, wanting to assure the gift she's given Paris lasts as long as possible? But if this is a factor, hardly something she is beholden to in any way; it'd probably be more about her own pride in that case. But, given that she also helps protect Hektor's corpse, when he, at least, is no longer able to pay her back for such aid, her affection/aid to the Trojans aren't just for or because of those three.

Apollo: Thetis' warning/prophecy to her son that killing Tennes/a son of Apollo would mean Apollo would kill him (Plutarch, Quaest. Graec. 28, Bibliotethe, Epitome 3.26), then we have Achilles killing Troilus in his sancuary, which would be reason enough on its own but Troilus can also be Apollo's son. There's Apollo so ardently protecting Hektor throughout the war, even/maybe especially after his death (Hektor is also in several sources Apollo's son). Also his relationship with Hecuba and how in Stesichorus he rescues her. (Could also put Kassandra and Helenos here.)

Part of his defense of Troy might be about "fate" and when it's the "proper time" for Troy to fall, but Apollo's ties to Troy/individuals attached to Troy are more deep-set than that. He is the one to punish Neoptolemos' sacrilege of killing Priam at Zeus' altar. Apollo is also rarely present during vase art scenes around the Judgment, potentially connecting to; Apollo specifically being the one to aid Paris (or in some variants, using Paris' shape) to kill Achilles. Real-world wise, the possibility of connecting Apaliuna(s)/Appaluwa as Wilusa/Troy's patron god to Apollo.

Ares: Unstable ally. Hard to say how consistently he is on either side; Athena says he "only yesterday" on the first day of fighting in the Iliad was loudly pledging to Hera and Athena that he'd help the Achaeans.

Perhaps he's been aiding the Trojans more or less secretly/openly throughout the war, as much because he supports whatever side he wishes on a whim as that Aphrodite (and Apollo?) has asked him to. Either way, certainly not as consistent nor out of any particular affection or feeling of protectiveness for the Trojans.

Artemis: "For, in her pity, holy Artemis is angry at the winged hounds of her father, for they sacrifice a wretched timorous thing, together with her young, before she has brought them forth. An abomination to her is the eagles' feast." (Agamemnon, Aeschylus, line 135) ; this is about the eagles and hare omen, which replaces (or in addition to, as this seems to have happened in Mycenae) the snake and sparrows one. Artemis is put forth as unhappy with Troy's (future) fall/the war.

And, it's of course very easy to see the demand for Iphigenia in reparation for Agamemnon's hubris in a similar way, that if he/the army, wants to go off and kill/enslave innocents elsewhere, he/they has to start at home. She may also be helping her brother, and there is the Skamandrios, son of Strophios, who she herself taught to hunt in the Iliad. She has independent connections to Troy, and could be one of the more focused on Trojan deities along with her brother and their mother.

Leto: We have nothing, aside from the fact that she is on the Trojan side with her children in Book 21. But real-world-wise, there's also that Leto was an important goddess on the coast, and in Lycia connected to a Lycian mother goddess. So one could probably make inference for the in-universe reason being as much her siding with her children as that Troy is honouring her (maybe particularly so), along with the rest of the countries on the coast.

Xanthos: intimately woven together with Troy's royal family, as he's married a couple daughters into the line and his (only?) son's daughter married Dardanos.

Zeus: He's technically/actually neutral, a driving force to keep the war going as it "needs to". He's therefore on Troy's side more through the sentiment(s) he expresses or is assigned to him rather than in action.

Particularly so if one turns to the "he planned the war" variants - but these are never about Troy, or Paris, but rather about something much larger than any fault any individual Trojan or Troy has a whole as made themselves guilty of. [Though individual mortals in the Iliad, and in later sources, both tragedies and lyric, will imply that it's Zeus as god of xenia that ensures his working towards Troy's destruction, rather than any plan that has little to do with Troy.]

For his connections to and being for Troy, have Proclus' summary of the Kypria for example, where the plan mentioned at the end is to "relieve the Trojans" specifically, and that phrasing turns Achilles' anger and Zeus acting to fulfil his demands not about Achilles' honour, but about aiding Troy. In Pindar's Paean 6 (fragmentary), Zeus is said to "not dare to change fate [the destruction of Troy]", easily to implicate that he otherwise might, because he would wish to. More important, perhaps, is his statement that Troy is his most favoured city, and how Hera offers up three of her favoured cities for Zeus' one, how he wishes to save Hektor, and the description in the Iliad (by Poseidon) that Dardanos was the/one of the sons [by mortal women, though Elektra couldn't have been that] that he loves the most.

[caveat-canine]

someone interesting just had to be blocked from my page and I usually don't share my outright opinions on things but I didn't know it was such a big thing in the community so here goes?

In typical scavenger fashion, I'm into vulture culture. I've never seen anyone in the vc community ever preach anything unethical but we do get compared to taxidermists and such quite often, which is alright since the venn diagram of that tends to be a big ol circle.

The collection and trade of animal remains isn't a black and white topic. There's ethical ways to obtain animal remains. There's unethical ways to obtain animal remains. Here's a little biased breakdown about how I feel about these ways.

Fur farms, hunting for sport, trophy hunting, and poaching- not ok.

Gathering roadkill/naturally deceased remains, hunting for food, using as much of a carcass as possible- ok and great.

Animal remains do not automatically equate to animal abuse/exploitation. I think it's important to critically think about things like this, especially in the nonhuman/therian community. It can be uncomfortable seeing remains of your species. Your personal discomfort does not automatically make something wrong, though.

Little rant/story time:

Most of the bones I have, I've found myself. I usually vulture in the woods near my house, but a few times have been lucky enough vulture on farmland owned by a horse rancher my mom used to work for. She has several hundred acres of land, but she's elderly and widowed so a lot of the forest isn't kept up with. A group of 20- something year olds decided to start dumping deer in a pit in the middle of the woods- that's where I found my buck skull. He's missing his antlers, because he was poached. Unethically killed? Yes. Unethically sourced? Up to you.

I have a fox, mink, and coyote skull, along with three rabbit pelts for my altar space, and a coyote tooth. All of them were purchased at my local powwow. Unethically sourced? Now I'm a white dude, so I can't really speak on this, but look me in the eyes and tell me indigenous hunting is unethical, and you will get laughed at, at the least.

My friend has a bat skeleton she's re-articulating. She found it dehydrated on the ground at her college campus and after an entire fiasco of the bio team taking care of it for a bit, it unfortunately passed. And now the skeleton is being used for education. Ethically sourced? They did all they could to save it.

My point? All three of these examples are different situations that aren't "fur farms" or "trophy hunting". Having a fox tail that was bought from some etsy seller who repurposes roadkill isn't inherently BAD. Finding a cool skull in the woods and keeping it to feel closer to nature isn't unethical.

Hell. If you/your family bought something from a fur farm because no one knew better? Now you know better, but treat it with respect.

Respect and education is what's going to change things, not calling others evil for having a hobby or an interest.

[windvexer]

For those who are considering initiatory witchcraft:

Is it once again time for me to wake up and say something melodramatic about witchcraft?

For a while, one way I've conceptualized initiatory witchcraft is as being DLC for your life. Before you initiated, you were playing the vanilla game.

After you initiate, you're playing with DLC. And the DLC primarily changes gameplay mechanics.

And I think that one of the things that changes is complexity, because you have more mechanics than you had before. There are more things to manage, and if you manage them well you get pretty nice gameplay bonuses. But if you manage them poorly, then you get much worse debuffs.

And also, you can't uninstall the DLC.

This is something I wish people had told me at the beginning. A lot of the warnings about initiatory witchcraft are all doom and gloom. Which, that's the nature of this sort of thing. It's a rough road to walk, especially for the first few years there.

But I wish people had just told me about the, well, the chores. The responsibility. The stuff you have to start doing now, or these new channels of power you suddenly rely on are going to collapse and nothing will be right until you fix it.

I think this is a common divide seen between initiatory and non-initiatory witchcraft. In non-initiatory witchcraft the advice tends to be, don't do it unless it sparks joy! Does that routine or activity make you feel great? No? Then don't do it! Your path is your playground.

Which is pretty good advice, but it doesn't apply to everyone.

Some practitioners out there really do just have responsibilities they have to perform, and those responsibilities don't always spark joy, or make them feel good, or whatever. It can be tedious. It can be boring. It can be something you set two alarms for and then drag your feet all the way to the altar. They can take time away from desired hobbies, or friends, or sleep.

When you initiate, there are all these little channels of power inside of you. That's an inelegant metaphor but for the purposes of this post, it's fine.

And a lot of little things can run through those channels. Spirits, powers, gods, the land, whatever. They've got you like a fish on a hook, and they can drag you away.

Do you really, really want to sit with your friends at the campfire and play never have I ever and drink beers? Well, you can't - because the forest is demanding your attention. There's a rock over there beyond the firelight, you will go to it, you will make sacrifices to it, you will honor the spirits who demand your homage because they know you can see them, and they will not be ignored by you.

And I really, really don't like the narrative, or the assumption or whatever, that this moment of having to ditch your friends and go be weird in the forest is a beautiful, sacred moment that makes you sOoOoooOoOOoo glad you initiated.

There are mosquitos out there. You can hear people laughing without you. You're exhausted because you impressed your friends with tarot readings earlier. The energy of the forest is strange because it doesn't trust you.

It can suck, is what I'm saying, but you have to do it.

And I think that maybe this is something to consider, or at least be aware of, so if you start feeling like garbage after you initiate you can be like, "oh yeah, the chores." In my experience, people who are set on initiation aren't going to be deterred by the thought of these kinds of things.

But I think it's something good to be aware of. Initiatory witchcraft isn't something you can set down and walk away from. It's not something you can necessarily change or rework according to your whims. And a lot of that isn't sexy, or mystical, or joyous. A lot of it is just... chores.

[maxislvt]

https://www.tumblr.com/maxislvt/720434423402807296/httpswwwtumblrcommaxislvt720433685821849600?source=share

DROP IT!!!!!

warnings: horny thoughts towards the end, no specific genitals

you're so proud of yourself for buying your first house and moving out. it's definitely not your dream home, but it's a start so you go out of your way to keep it up. the lawn stays mowed, walls get repainted, and the house is always clean.

the garage is strangely difficult though. you don't know how to fix the garage door so you hire someone else but narrowly avoid a freak accident fixing it. all your friends get sick after trying to help you clean, so you just brave it alone after that.

it takes weeks to get it clean and usable again. after enough cleaning you realize there's an attic of some sort in it. you make the choice to open the hatch and climb up only to immediately climb back down once you see the rune and the altar. Maybe you believe in witchcraft, maybe you don't but you know better than to touch mysterious shit you don't know the origin of

for a few days you consider just ignoring it and going on about your life without the extra space. unfortunately, whatever is trapped in that had other plans because it keeps appearing in your dreams and it's accompanied by a voice that makes you feel....odd to say the very least.

after like 3 weeks of weird dreams and getting wet/hard over a disembodied voice you climb back up to the attic and try to figure out what to do and you spend like 30 minutes looking around trying to find some sort of instructions only for the portal to randomly spark up and Wanda crawls out

Wanda can't even explain anything because you spend 5 minutes just screaming your fucking head off 😭

Eventually she manages to explain her whole situation. don't ask me what the situation is but she's bonded to the house and can only leave for so long

I'm not sure if I want her to be a horny demon or one you can sympathize with. either way, I imagine that you two are roommates for a bit.

Wanda still needs to eat and uses normal human amenities so she covers her half of the rent with cursed and strange objects you can pawn at the local occult shop

I meant for this just to be funny but she fucks hard!!!

maybe she isn't immediately focused on having sex with you but once she gets the idea she can't let it go. if Wanda was normal and respectful then, she certainly isn't now. Wanda gets a lot weirder. she doesn't force anything but she's definitely messing with your dreams and thoughts again!!

Wanda plays all innocent and unassuming at first. She acts like she's so confused why you're too shy to even look at her or aren't as comfortable cuddling as usual.

you don't know if you've gone off the deep end and are suddenly okay fucking a demon or if Wanda is fucking with you, but eventually it gets to be to much and well 🥴

she's as rough or gentle as you prefer, assuming you give up easy. if she has to spend a long time chasing you, she definitely goes a little overboard regardless

she tries to start out slow so you can get adjusted, but eventually she gets really needy and is just as whiny as you are. Wanda overstimulates both of you because she doesn't wanna stop.

despite being a demon, she's very praise heavy. even if you're just laying there, whining, and taking whatever Wanda is kind enough to give you. she won't shut up about how adorable you are or how good it feels inside of you.

if you're not loud, she's going to make you loud! Wanda knows she's doing a good job but she wants to hear you beg and whine like a needy little pet

oral is her go to. if Wanda could live between your legs, she would. sometimes she does it to tease you. she does whatever to make you cum as hard as possible and you have to keep going on with your work or watching your show

also you make a joke along the lines of "this isn't going to bond my soul to you or anything is it?" and Wanda gets really quiet 😭