#i was thinking this is her as a goddess

[merdeva]

@sunderdust : ❝ take off your clothes. slowly. ❞

the world is dark, cloaked in silk that deprives inara of her sight. in response, every flavor and every sound is magnified. the aftertaste of firewine lingering on her tongue. the quiet swish of solomon's footsteps along the floor.

inara's wings rustle behind her, feathers ruffling as they glide along the floor. when solomon's fingers graze along her cheek, her catching breath echoes in her ears, deafening. oh, how she enjoys this cat and mouse game –– especially when she is the mouse. made so small, so tiny, so helpless as he plays with her.

❝ anything for you, my dear, ❞ she purrs softly as her hands slowly go up to untie the dress looped behind her neck. the knot is unwound and her breasts are bared, nipples peaked and pebbled, each swell heavy and each point pierced with bars that trail thin chains of gold. she's an ornamented thing stood before him, decorated purely for his pleasure and his eye.

after, she reaches for the corset wrapped tight around her stomach. blind, it's difficult to untangle the cords, but inara takes her time, feeling his gaze on her all the while. she wonders what solomon may be doing, thinks she might catch the rasp of skin on skin, as though his palm might be wrapped tight around his cock. in response her core gives a clench of desire, craving the indescribable stretch as he enters her for the first time. absently, her tongue flicks out to wet her lips, the deep red there smearing.

❝ tell me, lover... do you like what you see? ❞ she knows solomon does. but her ego is never sated when it comes to him. the thousands of prayers she receives are nothing in comparison to one compliment from his lips. all the gods have their favorites, after all, and he is certainly hers.

and as the corset falls to the floor, inara begins to tug her skirts upwards, revealing inch by slow inch of bronzed skin, allowing her fingers to trail along her thighs and linger along the edges of her cunt. ❝ I think you'll be happy to know... ❞ the skirt is last to go, cast somewhere to the side. ❝ ––that I am not wearing any undergarments. ❞

thus, inara is left bare, left naked, left vulnerable. left wholly and entirely his.

[ghostly-kal]

Had a vision from the gods and decided to give the goddess of girlypop an outfit

[kettlefire]

Prepare for the unexpected. (DPxDC)

Everyone knew about the reign of Pariah Dark. Even those who did not dabble in those realms have heard the tale of the tyrant. A power-hungry man who ruled over the dead with an iron fist.

Following the rise of Pariah Dark, his realm had been effectively cut off from communication. Many mystics and magic users knew better than to open the door of nightmares that could arise if Pariah Dark's reach went further than his own realm.

Except, the universe had plans to bring the realm of the dead back into the cards.

A new opponent, one that had all of Earth's heroes scrambling for options. A being with powers of a god over weather, destruction was on the horizon. A world ending threat.

It's the only reason the Justice League was doing this. In a deep bunker, far from close civilization as a precaution, the heroes looked on with grim expressions.

The world was already being threatened. It would be destroyed regardless of what the league did. So it only made sense to make the last ditch effort. To summon someone strong enough to defeat the threat.

No one wanted to do it. No one wanted to be the one to pull the realm of the dead back to the living. The consequences were untold if this succeeded. If Pariah Dark was freed and defeated the threat, whose to say he won't want control?

That was a problem for later. For the aftermath. For now, the league could only watch on with bated breath as Constantine completely the summon ritual.

They watched on as the shadows in the room seemed to darken and grow. As the sigil sputtered to life with a glow that was growing increasingly brighter. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, the temperature began to drop with eaching ticking second.

And then it was all gone.

The room stood perfectly still. Just as it had been moments before. Nothing changed. No giant king standing before them, no sign that the ritual worked.

The room stood deadly still for another beat before the murmurs started. The team trying to make sense of the situation, figure out what went wrong.

Constantine swore up and down that this was the correct ritual, taking offense that they would even think the problem was on his end. It only made it better when it finally happened.

A loud sound ripped through the room, pulling everyone's attention back to the summoning circle. Just in time to see a tear appear in the space above the circle.

A thin tear that ran the length of eight feet. The fabric of the dimension seems to curl at the edges, pulling back to reveal a deep glowing swirl of greens. A dark gloved hand reached through, fingers curling around the edge of the tear, stretching it even further.

A portal. The ritual had worked, but there had been a delay. A delay that had every hero nerves on edge. Each team member tensed, weapons at the ready as they watched the being stretch the portal to the right size.

Then, a foot stepped out with a heavy thud. A dark boot that looked otherworldly despite its similarity to mortal clothing. A deep black that seemed never-ending. A second foot quickly followed before a full body emerged from the portal.

Not many people in the room have ever seen Pariah Dark, let alone know what to expect. Based on what Constantine and Zatara had said, this wasn't Pariah Dark.

A man had stepped out of the portal, standing at almost seven feet tall, and built like a brick house. One glance at the glowing white hair, deadly red eyes, and shard teeth was enough to know this being was not to be messed with.

But there was no giant show of armor or royal garbs. There is no large crown at the top of his head or jewelry from the infinite realms laced around his neck.

Instead, the man stood before them in combat boots, worn-in ripped jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a spiked leather jacket. Despite his almost normal clothing choice, the man's jacket seemed to be a never-ending depth of the dark night sky. If one was to look closely enough, the cosmos could almost be made out in the sea of darkness.

None of that would have prepared them for when the man spoke. His tone sounded more bored than anything as he took a step forward.

"Oh, so now you need the help of the dead." The man had spoken, running a hand through his hair. When Batman took a step forward to speak, the man raised a hand. Immediately commanding silence in the single gesture. "I'm on babysitting duty and have yet to have a cup of coffee. I'll be right back."

Just like that, both the man and portal vanished into thin air. Leaving behind a group of stunned heroes. Not only was the man not Pariah Dark, but he was also supposedly babysitting.

"Did that just-"

The Flash had been the first voice to speak up, his eyes trained on where the man had once stood. Except he had barely made it through the first few words before the man was suddenly back.

The man that now had a child hanging off his shoulders and another teen being held up by his scruff. Unlike the man, these kids looked human.

Too human for Bruce's liking. The dark black hair and bright blue eyes had every heroes eyes flickering to Batman for just the briefest moment.

"This isn't fair! I'm not even the king. Why do I have to be here!" The teenager had been complaining the moment the man had reappeared. Arms crossed tight over his chest and seemingly used to being held dangling. "Besides, who brings kids to a show down! Wait til I tell mom about this."

"Aw, come on, Danny. This is gonna be fun!!" The younger girl seemed in much better spirits than the teen, Danny. She had climbed up the large man, sitting on his shoulders and resting her arms on the mess of glowing hair. "It's like take your kids to work day! Ooo, Dan! Can we fight too!?"

Unlike the two kids, the man looked purely exhausted and annoyed. The man, Dan, dropped Danny like a sack of potatoes as he took a long drink from the travel cup in his hand.

It didn't take a genius to recognize the look of an exhausted parent in Dan's expression. A look many of the league members were well acquainted to. A look that even had Batman grimacing with sympathy.

"Can it, little shits. You two were grounded, remember." Dan had growled at the kids before shifting his focus back on the team of heroes before them. His glowing eyes set in a deadly glare. "Pariah Dark isn't coming, and he never will. He's been dethroned and banished. We're the best you've got."

A summoning that started with a group of on edge and scared heroes looking for the ghost king, ended in a way no one expected.

No one was even sure if it made any sense. They weren't sure if they should feel hopeful or in despair.

Because truly, what was a ghostly man with two seemingly human children against a godlike foe with the control over the weather?

The unspoken question of power and ability seemed to vanish following Dan downing the metal travel cup of coffee, and crushing it in his fist.

He tossed it to the side, straighting up his posture as he looked over the heroes. Dan might not be a hero, but he's been playing family for too long.

An almost feral, bloodhungry grin spread across the man's face, sharp fangs on full display. The look made the man suddenly look even less human. He looked closer to a demon from the pits of hell rather than the exhausted parent he looked just a few seconds ago.

"Point me in the direction of this bastard. It's been too long since I let loose and had some fun."

[killjo-q]

Malenia my beloved

[lazylittledragon]

I NEED TO KNOW WHAT MAMA DEKARIOS'S REACTION WAS WHEN SHE FOUND OUT CYRA WAS PREGNANT :000000 her boy is about to be a dad i think she would lose her entire shit

I THINK YOU’RE PROBABLY RIGHT

[lepusrufus]

Selunite morning routine

[sharlaynyans]

waxwitch chat do we fuck with this

[yashley]

[powdermelonkeg]

Thoughts on the thunder wizard again.

Genuinely, I find Gale's relationship with Mystra to be fascinating when you consider all its facets. Unhealthy, imbalanced, definitely poisonous, but also very, very intricate with a lot of blurred edges to it. One of those things where you're both like "wow, what the hell, that's horrible" but also "that makes perfect sense for their characters, and while I would NEVER, I know why they would, and why it happened."

You've got a wizard who doesn't know what real love is, who thinks he's finally being shown it by the person he adores most. His greatest fantasy, his most potent joy, his most heartfelt aspirations, and they were all offered to him.

And he wants to see what all she's hiding from him, because of course he does. She's the keeper of all things forbidden to him. The empire of Netheril reached magical heights that will never be touched again, and all that knowledge is beyond her curtain. She loves him, right? Surely, if he proves himself enough, she'll let him grasp that power he so desperately wants.

And not even in the power-hungry sense! All that magic Mystra's locked up was accessible during Mystryl's reign. Think of all the answers to theories about the universe that are back there. Every question of "can this be done, and what would it do" would be answered, if he could just bargain hard enough.

She loves him, right?

Surely, if he proves himself enough...

And then, on the other hand, Mystra. Once Midnight, her human personality has been subsumed by the goddess of magic and her duty to the Weave. She has a responsibility to magic, she IS magic.

Then along comes this mortal boy who knows how to handle her Weave. Who doesn't try to wrestle with and dominate, who sings to it. He handles it with such ease and grace—it's not just that he could be Chosen, but he deserves it. To put her Weave in the hands of someone so intrinsically in tune with it, who understands its potential with a wonder like no other. Few enough can handle the raw power that comes with being Chosen, but this one? This one is perfect.

And he adores you. And you adore him, like one would a beautiful butterfly that's landed on their finger. And he's willing to be devoted to you in all things, not out of transaction like most of your worshipers are, but out of love for you, your craft, your magic. You're so deeply and utterly charmed by him.

And it's not like Mystra hasn't walked this path before.

She gives him what he desires, because what he desires is her. And, in a different way, she desires him. She wants him to be her representation in the world. She indulges his adoration with her own presence, and takes indulgence herself in mortal comforts. He's never satisfied with her answers, but who could blame him? She keeps a whole world away from mortals, because she knows what such unfettered power might bring about (again).

And the wizarding prodigy's ambition is lit (again).

And the height of power is reached for (again).

And she stops him (again, again, again).

She does care for him. She doesn't want to see her little butterfly burn himself, and she doesn't want to be the one to ruin those wings.

But then he's not a butterfly. He's a mortal, wielding a weapon of murder, of her murder, and he's brought it to her doorstep because she told him "no." And he's cut himself on it, he doesn't know what it is, but it's hurt him—and it's only a fraction of the hurt it could do to her. How dare he want her help after threatening her?

(He didn't mean to.)

(He only wanted to help.)

(He only wanted. How human.)

She doesn't help him. If he wants to pursue Karsus' weaponry, it's his responsibility, his hubris, that led him to injuring himself on it. She's furious. She's hurt. She's cold.

(What fools these mortals be.)

But then, there's a greater threat to her. Something that could drown the Material in Karsus' failings. And that little boy, who nicked himself on the sword he lifted, still wants her help.

It's a fair trade, isn't it? She'll forgive him, let him into her domain again, if he accepts his punishment and goes into battle for her. He picked up a sword, it's appropriate that he learns to use it in her name, right?

If he was telling the truth, he wouldn't hesitate. If he really wanted to serve her with the Netherese Orb, he would jump at the opportunity to do so. He would have to give up a few petty things in the process, ("petty," she calls mortality, as if family and home mean nothing, as if friends and love are finite. Because to her, they do mean nothing. Because to her, they are finite.) but it isn’t atonement without sacrifice, is it?

It's the tactical move. She's not above hurting one man to save a nation. It's not even the first time she's done it.

(Dornal Silverhand sends his regards.)

If he loves her, he'd die for her, because she'd let him into her paradise. If he doesn't love her, he won't, and she was justified in removing him from her grace.

He doesn't love her. Not anymore.

Does he hate her enough to try to take his dues?

Ambition has always been man's greatest folly.

[alexturner]

MELANIE LYNSKEY InStyle magazine Photographed by Gizelle Hernandez

[astrobei]

in my heart of hearts mike wheeler is absolutely an athena kid but i also have to offer up a concept that i think has extreme comedic and dramatic potential aka: repressed gay teenager mike showing up at camp half blood unsure of who his godly parent is and feeling insecure about not having powers and one day when he’s making not-so-secret heart eyes at his best friend and son of apollo will byers is when a bunch of glowing floating hearts show up above his head. and that’s how mike gets claimed by none other than aphrodite, the goddess of love and sexuality, and is in full denial about it for three days because he thinks it’s some kind of sick and twisted JOKE

(on aphrodite’s end, she’s upset mike is throwing away the gift of true love and keeps trying to trick him out of repression by making more and more improbable and hilarious gifts appear when he and will are hanging out. mike hands will a book and it turns into a box of chocolates and he has to fling it away like a frisbee before will sees it. they’re having lunch and romantic music starts playing. she gives mike the same blessing she used to claim piper and will can’t even look in his direction for a full day because he starts blushing so hard. fifty bouquets of flowers show up at the apollo cabin’s doorstep with a note that says love, mike and by the end of it, mike isn’t even repressed and unsure about his sexuality anymore — he’s just trying to not throw himself into the bonfire out of sheer embarrassment)

[sunflawyer]

i adore selfshippers who have such a deep lore story for their s/i & ship because to be honest mine is filled with domestic lovey dovey stuff like us being emotional at our son's first day at the daycare or him telling me to take a bath together ... ⚖️🌻... 😭

[dlartistanon]

A friend showed me a CN fan's redesign of Nearl's Ambience Synesthesia 2024 outfit, and the worms told me to do NLPT

Reference

[bluebelledmoon]

the goddess incarnate herself

sequel to this!

played around with some cool colors this time :)

[ministarfruit]

day 11: alternate timeline ♡

(femslashfeb prompt list)

[muchtooold2]

I’ve recently discovered the part of the internet deeply devoted to defending Mystra in BG3 and I get she’s a long standing lore character but it feels like we played a wildly different game.

And I just know in my heart of hearts that if Mystra were male and Gale were female I wouldn’t have to keep reading some variation of “well it’s fine she did nothing to stabilize a ticking time bomb in the chest that would have wiped out an entire city because it needs to feed on the weave despite no real evidence this actually hurts her at all” or “actually it’s Gale’s fault he tried to return what he thought was part of her to her because he was an grown adult who should have known better despite the fact she did not tell him and he did not know it would have hurt her and is horrified to learn this in act 3.” Like, this isn’t me woobifying him. I love Gale and know he can be self-absorbed, his ego is big, and if left unchecked his personality leads him to become the literal God of Ambition. But he’s not like a power hungry schemer. His ambition and desire for knowledge (things Mystra likes!) got the better of him and since he is also insecure he decided to try to do an ambitious thing and prove himself to a goddess. He knows and admits that’s on him! But he (and players) are still allowed to be mad at the fact he’s kicked to the curb to maybe blow up a city to learn a lesson Mystra does not bother explaining until she’s literally forced to because he did not kill himself on her command. And people are allowed to find their relationship wildly inappropriate and toxic and abusive because based on the game you play, it is.

I don’t think it’s bonkers to say that in this situation, Mystra—a literal goddess who met Gale when he was probably somewhere between 17-22 years old—was wrong to have a relationship with him, that it was a toxic and abusive one and that is on her as the entity with more power in every way, that she was petty for letting him languish for a year and being willing to potentially let him kill a whole city while he was trying not to die by eating magic shoes, and that telling him to kill himself is a dick move. And people are like “well according to DnD lore she’s just protecting herself and she was only resurrected after he was a teen” are doubly annoying because bg3 doesn’t give a shit about the canon timeline considering Durge would be like…10 if they cared.

And I know it sucks if you like love Mystra in DnD lore and this doesn’t align with her or whatever but bg3’s themes of “hurt people hurt people” and “power over others is something easily abused if you’re careless” also applies to Mystra. With the sort of exception of Selûne, the game also feels pretty clear on the idea that gods Do Not and Cannot Care About You. The game you play is showing a toxic relationship (and I will say she is not as bad as some people say she is, like she is a goddess operating with some blue-orange morality) and if the genders were flipped we would not be having this discourse.