#say a prayer to your Gods & Goddesses for me

[brewing-mischief]

I never had an army before. I wind through them taking in their stiff position, their hard worked muscles, their artful wepons. The dirt in their brow from travel, the trust they held in eachother , the knowledge of loss hidden behind stern eyes.

None of them have taken notice of me , their mortal senses cannot see me, as I am small God with limited presence. I flick on of the hairs of one and it tustles gently as if blown by the wind. The man's face does not change. Well disciplined.

I make my way back to the front where the man I had saved months ago is still kneeling at my humble alter.

His thoughts are running with prayer, and though he says nothing, I can hear his words.

"I am sorry dear Goddess for the theft I've committed, I am sorry for the dishonor I've made on your home. I have brought here an army to fight in your name which I hope will make up for my mistake. I have brought my best though I am sure they lack. I hope they will be pleasing to you. I an sorry dear goddess for the theft I've committed, I am sorry for the dishonor I've-"

Hes repeating himself tirelessly and unnecessarily. If I were a larger god perhaps then I would've the type to rein down destruction. A king would execute the peasant that steals bread from him but a Baker who has seen the man huddle for warmth outside his store would likely turn the other way when the starving thing finally swipes a loaf.

And such was the thing with us. I had lived amoung humanity, my power was hardly one that could affect countries like famine or war or love. When the man had crawled to my alter, bloodied and tired and hungry I had no words of protest when he began to feast on my offerings.

And now he was here, with an army of such stature, people would assume they would be pledging to the god of the captial.

But they were pledging to me.

A wicked grin breaks, I accept.

I feel their strength build into my bones, I feel the weight of my power change. As if I had gone from holding a wooden sword to a metal one. My grip on it tightens, encouraged by the comfortable way it listens to me , obeying in the same uniformed way of the presented army.

I allow my form to emerge, taking in their suprise,horror and awe as energy. It was a feeling of power I had never dreamed Id be given.

"Hello"

"Your-Your ladyship...! I -we-"

"I know who you are. I am Seradipiousness the goddess of lucky timing and coincidences. Be at peace small one for your offering is accepted and your care was freely given."

" We-Thank you your ladyship." A single gesture has the entire army bowing. To me.

"What would you have us do? We fight only in your name."

Another surge of devotion lifts me up. I am a humble god. One of simple and often unseen work. I have done my very best to at peace with my position unseen by my peers and quietly worshiped by few.

But now,

Now the doors I've long kept lock are open. My power is doubling, nah tripling with the influence this one devotee is placing at my feet. I know my selfish nature is climbing up my back. I can feel the way my teeth are sharpening as my smile continues to grow. Theres only one thing left on my mind now.

"I want more"

You’re a minor goddess who saved a mortal on the brink of death. A few months later, he came back with an army to pledge allegiance to you.

[a-hearts-a-heavy-burden]

5 days to homelessness - Thank you if you helped

Just a brief update to my situation for those who've helped / been worried. My sister has given me to 1/15/2023 to move out. I have not been able to obtain accommodations and therefor it looks as though I will end up homeless. It's getting bitterly cold outside and I am not looking forward to this one bit. I'm scared sick and I am also worried about losing the little bit of income I have due to no longer having an address. To anyone who has helped me buy food, medication etc, I appreciate you. You have no idea how much your donations mean to me. I hope one day I am able to pay it forward. You'll always be in my heart and I wish you the warmest, safest 2023. Here's hoping for a miracle.

[simping-overload]

ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴀᴍɴ ᴅᴇᴇʀ - ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʜᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ

a/n: showing my love for my favorite Greek God of all time, Hermes<3 this is a multichapter fanfic.

trigger warnings: animal hunting so animal death. Religious themes and practices

synopsis: You never thought helping out a lost hobo would end up with you in the loving embrace of a god.

『read on ao3』

『prev chapter ⟺ next chapter』

disclaimer: hermes is based on his BOZ, EPIC, and canon mythology. I don't really know how ancient greece actually was or how hunting works so take this with a grain of salt! It is just fanfiction :)

You come from a village that has been long-term worshippers of the goddess, Artemis. Each year, the village holds a festival, Laphria¹. With this festival, of course, comes activities, the most important being the hunt. Where 3 main selected participants, who were allowed to bring at the maximum two others along the hunt with them, they were to hunt down a large stag, whoever was to bring back the largest wins.

The reward would entail being given a large sum of money and being allowed to worship the goddess to the fullest extent, which means you'd get to say your prayers before everyone, including the high elders.

This year, you were finally chosen for the hunt, much to the joy of your family and friends. You were their best hunter and tracker, able to find an animal with ease regardless of how little the evidence that has been left behind.

After passing a familial trail—hunting a snow hare in the middle of snowstorm— you were gifted a beautiful pup who you named Winston². The two of you were jointed at the hip. There wasn't a place you'd go without him. This included the hunt.

You decided to bring two of your beloved friends along, Damian and Agnes. You set off at dawn, racing into the trees on the back of your horses, Winston running ahead as the scout.

Agnes and Damian were chattering away behind you as you looked over the map. You wanted to try and plan out all paths you could safely use.

"So...do you think if I win this, it would get Corinna at the very least interested in me?" Damian questions, fiddling with the horses' reins. He had a crush on Corinna ever since they were teens, spending most of his time trying to impress her— which failed considering he always made a fool of himself.

Agnes, bless her, rolling her eyes as she listens to Damian rant, just as the millions times before. She's been friends with him since they were babies. Both of their mothers were the best of friends, so it makes sense they were too.

You didn't come into the picture until you were about 7 or so, moving here to take care of your grandmother after she got sick.

You met Agnes when your mother invited hers over, and then her mother invited Damian's over. You all were just placed in front of each other and expected you all to click automatically. Thankfully, you did, and you've been friends ever since.

"Probably, but you need to remember Nikolaos is in this competition too, I know he's been desperate to get her hand as well." She pauses as her horse jumps over a fallen tree. She looks back at Damian with a blank stare and continues. "And also this could've been avoided if you just grew a pair of balls and confessed."

"I can't just do that— I need to get her attention first. Maybe we'll find that white stag the elders ramble about." Damian giggles as he pictures Corinna leaping into his arms and saying yes to his proposal. He was such a lovesick fool.

"Or maybe she's already interested and is waiting for you to confess. I've heard its custom in her family for the woman to wait for the man to ask, no matter how long it takes." You chime in, not looking up from your map.

"Wait wh—" Damian is cut off when a large gray wolf jumps from out of the trees, holding a white hare in its mouth.

Your horse, startled, bucks you off its back, sending you to the forest floor. You're now eye level with the wolf, noticing how its eyes are an unnatural golden color.

You and the wolf stared each other down for a moment before it huffed and leaps back into the trees. Agnes drops down from her horse and rushes to your side, while Damian goes off to fetch your horse.

You snapped out of your daze when you felt something wet touched your cheek. It was Winston, licking at you and whining in concern.

You pat his head to calm him, and you lean on Agnes for support as you stand. She brushes the dirt and leaves off your back.

"Hey, you okay?" She questions, her freckled face is laced with concern.

You feel fine, a little sore, but nothing you hadn't been through before. There was something about that wolf that just stuck with you, "Yeah, I'm fine. That wolf, though... its eyes were like pure gold."

"Maybe it's one of Lady Artemis' wolves? It wouldn't be the first time she's watched over the hunts." She suggests, steppingaway from you once you've steady yourself. Damian comes back with your now calm horse, handing you the reins.

"I suppose? Though I never heard of a wolf having pure gold eyes before... Anyway, Winston, did you see anything?

Winston barks in reply, his tail wagging before he runs off. You mount your horse and begin to follow him. You motion the other two to do the same.

Winston leads you to what looks to be a temple, one that seems to have been neglected for years. Nature has taken over, vines have trickled up and wrapped themselves around the columns, and grass and flowers grow from the cracks of the floor. The usual pure white of the marble has faded into a off white tan color with a thin layer of moss across the surface.

"Let's make sure the area is safe for us to set up camp here. Agnes, check out the back of the temple, and Damian, you'll start with the outer perimeter. I'll start with the inside. Regroup to the front once you're sure no one else has been here."

Agnes nods, and Damian gives an alright in response before going back into the forest. You dismount your horse, tying it to a loose fence post. You make your way up the cracked stone steps and into the temple.

The rays of sun lit the inside of the temple, illuminating the illustrations that line the walls and ceilings. Going off of the winged shoes on the god that was illustrated, this was a temple of Hermes. You wonder if there was ever a village that was here before yours that were worshippers of him.

Your search around the temple came up empty, with no human activity. Only animals and plants seemed to have been inside. You leave the temple in time to see with Damian and Anges coming back.

"There doesn't look like there's anyone for miles, only animals. I saw the cutest fox kits." Anges says.

"Same here, though I wasn't blessed with seeing any cute aniamls today." Damian pouts, dismounting his horse, kneeling down next to Winston to ruffle his fur, "Expect for this bugger." Winston barks and licks the man's hand.

You chuckle, "Looks like it's safe to set up camp here, we'll need to find something to eat, so I'll try and find something for us. You two just set up camp and remember to use the horn if anything happens."

They give you mock salutes in response before they begin to take the supplies off the horses and into the temple. You mount yours and whistle for Winston to follow as you trot off into the woods.

It doesn't take you long to hunt something down. After finding some boar tracks, Winston leads the rest of the way to the creature. Upon finding it, you ready your bow, steadying yourself on the moving horse as you focus your aim on the boar.

You suck in a breath, drawing back your arrow and whispering a short prayer to Artemis as you relase. The arrow pierces through the side of the boar, straight to the heart, quick and painless.

Suddenly, you hear a loud scream, and off in the distance, you can see someone running towards you with what looks like a... deer? Chasing after them. Winston stands alert, ears perked, and focused on the person getting closer to you. You hold your reins tight while Winston moves in front of the horse.

The person turned out to be Nikolaos. You spot his signature ginger hair showing from under his hood before he trips over a log and face plants in front of you. He doesn't try to exchange pleasantries as he scrambles up to keep running.

The deer came soon after, gracefully hopping over the log. It glanced at you for a meer moment, giving you enough time to see its golden eyes. The same color from the wolf.

You hop down off your horse, making your way to the boar.

You are for sure this time that it wasn't Artemis. Maybe some other god?

You wrap the boars legs tight with string as you bring it back to your horse, settling it on the rear. Positioned so it won't slip off, you mount your horse once more before going back the direction you came.

As you make your way back. Your mind wanders back to Hermes. It could be him. After all, he's one of the more playful gods known for his pranks and tricks. You'll have to make an offering to him for letting you sleep in the temple, regardless if it's abandoned or not, and so he doesn't prey on your friends like he did Nikolaos.

By the time you made it to camp, it was dusk. Agnes greets you outside, taking the horse reins from you. You take the boar off of the horse, taking off to the side as you make quick work of the animal, cutting off the hide and chopping the pieces of meat you need. You leave whatever is left for Winston and the other forest creatures to feast.

Damian is quick to start cooking. Thankfully, his mother was kind enough to pack spices so your group wouldn't have to suffer tasteless food.

Until the sky went dark, you spent the rest of your time eating and talking. Damian nearly choked on his food when he heard you recant the experience in the woods earlier. He says he wishes he could've seen the look on that bastards face when he was running away. Agnes jokes that Nikolaos probably looked like a scared chicken. Which admittedly, he did, come to think of it, his screams sounded like the human equivalent of one.

As the night went on, it got quiet, Damian was the first to sleep, and Agnes was next. Winston is sprawled out in between them, snoring away. Before you rest, you bring a plate of food and burning incense to the altar.

You whisper, "Please, Hermes. The God of speed and travel grant us permission to make sanctions in your temple. If you disapprove, we will be out as the sun rises. Take this food as a thank you for allowing us to sleep here for the night." You pause. "Also... please refrain from chasing us as a deer or anything else for that matter. While it was funny what you did to Nikolaos, I would rather not soil my pants." You chuckle, placing the food onto the alter and the incense in a dusty holder.

You go back to your original resting place, leaning against the pillar. You feel a soft and comfortable breeze flow through the temple. The sounds of the trees rustling soothe you into a nice slumber.

Still in deer form, Hermes walks through the woods, no set destination just allowing the fates to choose where he will end up. Faintly, he can hear someone whisper a prayer.

"Please, Hermes. The God of speed and travel grant us permission to make sanctions in your temple. If you disapprove, we will be out as the sun rises..."

It was not often that he received prayers, especially not in his sisters park of Greece. He lets the prayer pull him towards the location.

Switching to his human form, he approaches the temple. It was one of his firsts. A gift to him by his father. While unkept, it still stood strong.

He sniffs the air, a familiar smell, boar. Not only did he get a prayer, but he got an offering, too? Just what he needed after chasing the mortals.

He giggles as he makes his way inside, involuntary waking up Winston, who was silenced a quick shush and a pat to the head.

Hermes looks around at the mortals who sleep before him. Wondering who said the prayer, his eyes land on you. Still leaned against the pillar, head thrown back against it. Your hand is tightly wrapped around a dagger. Ready to strike if need be.

He studied your face for a moment, his hand twitched with the desire to trace over your features. You were very attractive for a mortal, and judging from the faint golden aura he could see emitting from you, you're the one who prayed.

He steps away with a grin, making his way to the alter. He picks the plate up, nearly drooling on the food. As much as he'd love to take his time eating, he's a glutton. In seconds, the plate is empty. He holds back a burp as he makes his way back out of the temple, glancing at you as he makes his way out.

Well, he's going to have some fun on this vacation.

[ma1dita]

solipsism

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.1k

summary: (post-TLT) drink responsibly… trouble doesn’t; you punch luke in this lol (novelization spoilers? kinda canon-compliant)

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. Luke visits you four times during college, in a timeline opposite to yours (doctor x river song-coded) (lore expansion & explanation here) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: i hurt myself with this one. anyways its canon (to me) that we’re roommates now !!!! more to come like i promised even during my birthday break ! scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)

(post 3/6, edited/betad @hotchfiles )

—

solipsism (the idea that only one’s mind is sure to exist)

You didn’t mean to send a prayer out into the world so strong that it would will an apparition of an Olympian, but burning cookies seems to be your specialty. Arguably, they weren’t the good kind, just the ones you grab in the freezer aisle of Walmart, and still, somehow they set your fire alarm off. Opening a window and waving through the smoke— Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home was standing next to the rickety dining table you bought off Facebook marketplace. 

“Holy shit, you scared me!” 

There’s mirth in her eyes at your reaction, though for all you know it could be annoyance—it’s not often that an immortal could be badgered enough to reveal themselves for an accident like this one.

“Dionysus was right. You’re too much like him for your own good,” she grins, taking a seat at the table like she’s an old friend. There’s a warmth to her unlike anyone you’ve met before—fire crackling in her eyes and an aura of serenity swaddling the air that you’ve never felt before in your student accomodations.

“I’m sorry I just… with all due respect, what’s going on?”

You go to toss the hot tray of cookies in the trash bin, before hesitating and putting them on your nicest plate. A gentle shove slides them over the table to the goddess, and she takes a crunch out of one happily.

“You were praying,” she states, like its common knowledge, “so strongly, in fact, I thought I’d make a visit to one of my most loyal devotees. Though in this case, you’re the object of his devotion, yes?”

Your hands are clasped across your lap and a familiar feeling spreads through you, then she jerks her hand up and points, “There. You’re doing it again. Y’know, it’s about time you start reciprocating the effort. Hermes’ son prays for you with intention.” You were thinking about Luke before she appeared—and hope glimmered like a tiny open flame. It’s still there, in the slow beating of your heart.

“He’s waging war with the gods. I don’t think he prays to them anymore,” you reason. Luke's offerings to the hearth must have been extinguished by the wrath he’s rained on Camp Half-Blood by now. The perfect storm.

“Not when it comes to you. Mortals never fail to surprise me. But it seems you’re a special case, my sweet. He’s made a home of you.”

To love Luke feels like having to keep a secret and never being able to tell anyone, but Hestia reaches for your hands across the table and looks at you knowingly.

“When I gave up my seat on Olympus for your father it wasn’t a sign of weakness, even if I did it so that others could be happy. I think your soul is a lot like mine in that you’ve given up so much of what you want to protect others. In turn, he’s doing the best he can to protect you; I listen to him every day, sweet girl. You are not weak for loving him still. There are generations of strength in your bones.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I search for him in everyone I meet and I’m not sure I’ll ever find that type of love again.”

These are thoughts you’d never told anyone—not Annabeth, not your father, not even yourself and surely never aloud.

“I hope you never do,” the goddess says, and you know it too.

i. no winter lasts forever (a night out after a drive home from virginia)

Flick. Flick.

“Come on, Hestia. Not you too. Don’t fail me now,” you mumble. The frigid metal of your zippo lighter rubs against your thumbs as you cup it in your hands, shielding the tiny flame that fights the harsh winter wind. Trying to focus as you lean against the brick of the Inferno, you take a deep inhale of smoke to warm your bones. Healing was never supposed to be easy.

Breathe in.

It’s somewhat of a routine you’ve made since getting back from visiting Annie. You’re a regular at this pub now—not even acclimated to the ins and outs of your sleepy college town, and though you don’t know the name of the hall your classes are in, you do know there’s a barstool in the corner of the Inferno with your name on it. There’s something funny about using your father’s gift as a form of fake id, and you wonder if he knows how heavily you indulge in your vices. Five vodka redbulls down the hatch have your knees feeling weak under the alley light until a stranger looms over you like a shadow.

“Those things are gonna kill you one day.”

Breathe out.

“Gods willing,” you laugh, stumbling over your boots and Luke catches you like he was never meant to let you go in the first place. The leather of his jacket is musky and his hair is buzzed. 

Either you were wasted or uncaring of who he was (both), you toss him your car keys and climb into the passenger seat. It’s a silent ride to your apartment besides you giving him the directions and Luke wonders how bad he must have hurt you for you to lay out for a stranger and waste away like this. But he’s the farthest thing from a stranger, even in this error in time and you’re still the daughter of the god of wine so after the third time you try to put your key in the lock he helps you because he hopes you’ll let him in.

“Y’know Annie would get a kick out of your haircut. Come inside.”

You’ve always been able to see right through him.

He’s standing in the hallway with his hand around your waist and he’s already broken too many of the titan’s orders by being here, so he scoffs, “You’re not gonna remember this by morning.” But you leave the door open anyway, dragging him by the wrist and your hand still feels the same in his even after all this time. What more is there to resist when there’s not much left of him to lose? 

This is the last time, he reminds Kronos, and there are monstrous hands around his brain, but yours are still gently holding his heart. The little part of his soul that hasn’t been eaten away holds on for a bit longer, tethered to your being by the way your hands are tied.

“I can, if you want me to.” 

He looks ready for war, and he is— yet you have him following you around the tiny living room almost in a trace as your arms loop around his neck. Luke doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know if you’d want to see him sober, especially when his absence is still fresh for you.

“Baby you look different from the last time we met,” you slur, stepping onto his feet as he takes you for a spin around the coffee table, dancing in the quiet. He’s older than you’ve ever seen him, voice deeper and colder. This is not the boy that ran from you in the forest many months ago. This is a man who’s seen horrors you haven’t lived through yet. You can deduce that he’s the cause of them too.

“So do you. Though still as beautiful as I remember,” he whispers like he’ll get struck for saying it. Your eyes are unfocused as he inspects your face, still soft and young with hope. The titan grips his features now, almost burning through his sense of self—though it’s not tangible he wonders if you could see it.

“I see you all the time. I just… usually have to drink enough to make it feel real. I just miss you.”

He looks pained at your words, and for a moment you wonder if he even heard you. Luke pushes you towards your room, an aura of darkness spreading through him like fire but he relents, pushing past the flames. He’s on borrowed time now, but Luke would gladly waste those minutes tucking you into bed.

Lifting your arms up, he pulls an old shirt of his over your shoulders, and his eyes catch onto the fact that you’re still wearing the dragon scale necklace he made you. Luke digs through your medicine cabinet while you sloppily wash your face and his calloused hands rub serums and moisturizer into your cheeks like how you taught him once upon a time. These are the things he won’t forget. Kronos can take it all away, as long as he gets to keep you. You lean against his chest and shut your eyes, scared that if you open them again he won’t be there.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Are you mine?”

“I’m always going to be yours,” he says with no hesitation, “Four years later, and there is still not one living thing worth losing you,” he says, lips chasing after your fingertips as you trace his jaw. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and Luke’s eyes survey your room and he finds traces of you that he’s missed as he rubs your back lovingly like he has all the time in the world.

Your hands cup his face, making him look at you, and he surrenders himself to you as you pull him into a kiss. He’s a ticking time bomb about to detonate in your arms. The warnings that Kronos is beating into his head is nothing compared to the pain of knowing he won’t be with you for much longer. And he kisses you like he could save you from his blaze by doing so, lips and tongue and shattered breath saying I’m here, and this is real. Maybe your worst vice is not being able to wean yourself off the taste of him.

“Tell me what I need to hear. Even if it’s not true…Even if you’re not real,” you say between gasps, and your position on his lap makes him wonder why he’d ever give the world up and burn it down when it’s sitting right here and staring at him with violet eyes.

“It’s always going to be you and me. I’ll love you until the end of my days and then some.”

You laugh in the way that drives him crazy—though he already is, for loving you still. Luke lost all sense of himself when he left camp four years ago. All that remains is you, pushing him so that his back hits the bedspread. He lets you consume what’s left of him, and he’s on fire.

You wake up the next morning with a jolt. It’s still winter, and you’re still alone but despite the chill, you feel warm.

ii. autumn years (with a familiar visitor who finally shows up on time)

Knock, knock.

There’s someone at the door, but your date isn’t supposed to be here for another 10 minutes.

“Babe, someone’s here for you!” your roommate Jo calls out, and you tell her it’s fine to let them in.

The pantyhose clings to the lotion on your thighs and you fix the bracelet on your wrist, stepping out from the bathroom hollering, “You’re early, Kit! Don’t tell me you’re skipping to the good part; I’m a lady i–”

“Who’s Kit?”

Luke’s standing in the doorway of your bedroom and his eyes flit to the reflection of your naked back peeking through the undone zipper of your dress. You look stunning, lips painted red and eyes smoky, but you’re also furious. Too bad he’s always thought you looked extra hot when you’re mad.

“None of your business. As you can see, I don’t exactly have the time for this, Castellan.”

He shrugs, closing the door behind him gently and with the raise of his brow, Luke is leering at you like a teenage boy. Respectfully, of course. The glint of celestial bronze against his hip reminds you who he’s become though.

“I’ll make the time if you say the words, Trouble.”

Sighing, you step forward, but then he does that thing again from the last time you saw him out on sea, twisting the crick in his neck like he has to resist your touch.

“You’re still funny. Some old habits die hard I guess,” you scoff, turning and lifting your hair out of the way so that he can zip you up. He opts to not touch you, sliding the dress closed until it fits against your body. You think you can feel his fingers ghost above your skin, and goosebumps rise where he leaves and his breath is warm on the back of your neck.

“Leave your weapons at the door. I run a tight ship, unlike you.” 

Gliding away from him while his hands are still in the air, you turn and sit at the edge of your bed, crossing your legs as you nod at him. Luke picks up the pair of heels next to where he sets the sword against the wall, and like it’s nothing out of the sort, he gets on his knees. You offer a foot to him while he speaks, “I could tell by the taser on your bedside table. You’ve killed monsters before, why a taser?”

There’s freckles on his tanned cheeks and he smells like the sun. You wonder what he’s done to come see you tonight.

“I’ve found out that not all monsters are mythical. When…are you?”

His eyes dart away from yours, securing the buckles on your ankles, and his touch sears through the mesh of your pantyhose.

“A few months ahead.”

There’s an eyelash on his nose, and your finger reaches out to touch it, but he flinches away. Face pulling into a frown, you spit, “You never slow down enough to let me catch up with you, huh?”

You can hear the microwave whirring in the kitchen, your roommate none the wiser of the sound of two hearts breaking. The both of you suddenly realize this is the first time you two have been alone (and the same age) since he left camp. There’s a silent question of if it will ever happen again as he gets up from the floor.

“So you’re seeing other people. Must’ve been easy, h—”

You punch him in the face before he finishes speaking, and all he can do is laugh. You would never let him off so easily.

“Fuck you. What, you think you can just hop in here and act like everything’s okay? What do you want, Castellan? For me to grovel at your feet and beg for you to fix what you broke?”

And you’re right, he supposes. This is the closest to peace that you’ll get in this life you’ve created without him. He won’t be able to take you on nice dinner dates like Kit can, or hold your hand without feeling like fate is going to smite him for existing. You scoff at the lack of his response.

“What happens next?”

Luke watches you chew on your lip, and even if he shouldn’t touch you in fear that you’ll will away his reason for defecting, by the gods does he want to.

“What do you mean?” he mutters. The cord of his necklace is tucked into your dress now that he looks closer.

“If I’m right,” you say (and it’s rare that you’re not), “each version of you that comes to see me knows less, and each time I see you I learn more. You were 23 last time. Why didn’t you see me at 22?” You know he won’t have an answer, but this is the only time you’ll be able to ask the real him. The one that’s yours, just a few steps ahead.

“There’s already been a lot that’s happened since I last saw you.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” you offer him, like he hasn’t already. He can feel the bruise blooming on his cheekbone and he grimaces with what he’s about to say.

“Never intentionally. I’ll try not to.”

It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth and you feel stupid with how empty you feel just watching him. He’s made a home of you, choosing moments in time to visit, but when he inevitably leaves, then what? Luke taught you how to be a home, forgetting you exist until it’s convenient and now there are things about yourself that you can’t unlearn yet don’t know what to do with.

Your roommate knocks on your door asking if you want a shot of vodka before your date starts, and Luke is already walking towards it since he’s overstayed his welcome. He raises his sword to open a portal but you shake your head.

“Go out the way you came,” you swallow, fiddling with the copper pendant around your neck, “and take the purple umbrella in the hall. It’s raining outside.”

When you walk into the kitchen moments later, the front door shuts gently and Jo’s sitting at the table with a mouthful of ramen noodles.

“Is he warming up the car? Your date’s hot as fuck, babe,” she grins, steam coating her glasses.

Knock, knock.

Your phone buzzes and there’s another knock at the door. Kit is 15 minutes late.

iii. auld lang syne (ringing in the new year with an old friend, or more)

Your apartment is filled with friends and acquaintances, but who the fuck cares anyway? There’s 10 minutes to midnight and you’re crossed out of your mind. Holding onto a half-empty bottle of prosecco, your heels clomp over to the window in the living room as you crawl onto the fire escape. 

Clack, clack.

The air is chilly as you hug yourself, and you hear someone step out onto the stairs behind you. 

“What are you doing out here alone?”

You sigh, not even turning to look at him, “What are you doing here, period?”

He takes the bottle of prosecco out of your hands, making you swivel your head to look at him as he takes a big gulp. He’s younger again, and it makes you laugh at how fucked up your luck must be to never be able to see him when you want. It’s always been on Luke’s terms.

“You’re too young to be drinking that,” you drawl, knees bumping against his when he takes a seat next to you. Long Island is quiet at night, and the lack of city lights is nice when you can see the stars so clearly. Music blares through your JBL speaker in the living room, and the sound of cheers gets louder when The Neighborhood starts playing.

“We used to do worse,” he laughs, but something in it sounds hollow. The breeze picks up and you shiver, taking the bottle back from him and swigging it.

“All these visits…you sure do know how to make a girl feel special. But you never come in the summer.” 

He clears his throat, before leaning back on his elbows, “ I haven’t gone a summer without you since we were 14.” This Luke doesn’t know what’s ahead of him yet, but you realize that he’s right. Even now, he keeps up the habit of pissing you off and raising hell on Camp Half-Blood every summer. You notice he’s not wearing his camp beads, and he notices you shiver again in the chill. 

Clack, clack.

Your heels rattle the metal of the fire escape as you readjust your position. He takes off his jacket to sling it around your shoulders and neither of you realize you’ve missed the countdown until fireworks burst in the sky above you. The red and blue reflect off the planes of his face, but what stands out to you is the orange of his shirt, and you comprehend now where he just came from.

“I had to see you. I didn’t get to say goodbye when I left,” he says, and you take another sip before handing him the bottle to finish off. The only new years’ kiss you’re getting is through the lips that hold the last remaining drops of prosecco. 

You nod, remembering it all too well as you both watch the fireworks in silence. He wasn’t able to watch them properly the last time he was with you, Annie, and Percy just a few hours prior.

iv. spring cleaning (only big days are ahead for the both of you) 

It’s quiet in your college apartment this morning. 

The moving boxes are half-packed and stacked against the wall of the entryway and the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the French press on your kitchen counter permeates the air. Perhaps the idea of caffeine is the last thing on your mind, hands twitching as they smooth over the black polyester of your graduation regalia. There’s a few hours still before the ceremony, but you’ve never liked being unprepared. Pollux is driving your dad down the Island because despite the war you’ll inevitably be fighting in once you cross the stage and get your degree, D specifically told Zeus that he’d wage another if he was made to miss your big day.

Parting your hair to fit under the ugly graduation cap, the tassel swings in front of your face as you grab a few bobby pins from the side table. A golden medallion of Castor’s smiling face almost whips into your cornea and you stifle a laugh. D said in his Iris message last night that all three of them would cheer so loud you’d be able to hear it from Elysium (and honestly, jokes aside—he probably has a way of making that happen). A staggered breath leaves your lungs, and you’re filled with anticipation, though you’re not sure what for. 

Time is a thief and you know that too well by now. After all, you’ve spent the past four years running from the truth of your heritage—dodging monsters between study sessions and grief welcoming you every time you come home. Four years later, and who are you trying to fool? While walking across that stage later you might as well take a bow. After all, your ex-boyfriend is the reason why there’s going to be a war of both blood and ichor, mortal and undying and still, you find yourself in the middle of it. You’ve found yourself fielding questions this last semester like dodging celestial bronze, the questions always a little too close to home and the answers you give are too entertaining to be considered the truth.

So, what are your future plans? 

Oh no big deal, just going home and dealing with generations-old family drama. If it drives me crazy enough I might enlist! 

Gods. 

How do you even articulate that these past few years were those future plans? That you didn’t expect to be alive this long, much less have the comfort of feeling secure enough to dream… It’s been years since you’ve had a good dream to work towards with a boy you once knew holding your hand through it all. But the expensive piece of paper you’ll be receiving later feels fake somehow. 

Who does that belong to? Surely not you…surely, someone who dreams without bearing the weight that comes with it. Someone who doesn’t have to look over their shoulder everytime they walk to work in the mornings, who can convince children that monsters aren’t real without having to lie. Psychology was a great field to learn from the mortal side of things—to know the reasons why brain chemistry affects us so deeply instead of just willing it away with the touch of your fingers. You like making people feel better. But who can ever do that for you?

A gust of wind sweeps through your room, the multicolored tassels hanging off your neck swaying from the force and you shut your eyes knowing he’s there again. Citrus and musk, and something that’s just him. He knocks over your hamper, cussing under his breath until his eyes follow your motionless figure in front of the mirror.

“Shit. I can explain, um… I thought you’d still be asleep,” Luke sputters, his converse falling into your laundry pile like quicksand. He bends over, stuffing your pajamas and sweatshirts back into the bin with fidgety hands as his eyes take a quick scan of your room. There are no pictures of you and him on the bedside table. For a moment, he wonders what that means but then his cheeks redden when he picks up a pair of your lacy underwear. He shoves that down too.

“Big day today. You know I can’t sleep when I know something is about to happen,” you smile wistfully, and you keep your eyes shut for longer, because like this, it’s almost like he’s actually there in real time. In a world where things went your way, this would be his apartment too, and his clothes would be scattered around your shared bedroom like how they used to back in cabin 12. You always used to put them on The Chair, as he would call it—but Luke’s known to make a mess of your life regardless of your efforts.

“When isn’t there? Something’s always going on when you’re around, Trouble.”

Click. Scattered memories flicker in your head like images through a view-finder, spinning through your vision as you hear the sound of his laughter, gently tapping away at your heart again. Click. In the ones you pre-selected, he’s draped in sunlight, honey eyes sweet and kind, and his kisses are perpetual instead of an indulgence. Click. He’s always wearing faded orange, worn-out, but most of all well-loved. Click.

You open your eyes and they meet his own in the mirror. Time stops for once, letting you catch your breath.

Right now, he looks just as you like to remember him, as you knew him four years ago. Multicolored camp beads are resting easily against his broad neck instead of weighing him down, and he’s wearing the red converse his dad gave him. He’s too young, and so in love with you that it blinds him, but even then…now, he knows the look on your face and it makes him ask, “It’s not my first time visiting you is it?”

“You’re usually more discreet, the door right behind me wouldn’t have been your first option. But you’ve never failed to surprise me before. Tell me about your day, Luke.”

A hesitant smile crosses his face as he sheathes Backbiter against his hip, adjusting under the weight like he’s not used to it yet, and then he speaks, “We ate strawberries in the fields today, straight off the vine, but I argued that the ones you conjure will always taste sweeter to me. You smushed one against my face and I carried you home. You?”

You nod, turning around to face a ghost of your past, and the both of you meet in the middle only a hairs distance away as you admire each other.

“I graduate today. Annabeth’s driving up with her boyfriend and the rest of my family is coming to celebrate.”

He doesn’t know of Percy yet, of Chris’ insanity, of your brother’s death, and the immense hurt he’s caused everyone. The smile that lights up his face makes you realize he thinks he's still a part of this—with you. And you miss him—even when he’s right here, fuck, you miss all the versions of him that have come to visit, even the ones you don’t know of yet. Tears brim your waterline as you take a deep breath; the last thing you want to do is scare him away.

“This was his promise to me. By showing me something I was sure of—and I always knew you’d graduate and make it big. Wanted to see it for myself, baby,” he grins, tangling his fingers with yours like your strings of fate, and though you know the answer to your next question you still take a chance, just in case.

“If I tell you what’s happened since…you. Would it be too late to change your mind?”

“Trouble, do you want me to? Kronos’ plan is already set in motion. I think…” he swallows, and your vision blurs without your permission as tears start to fall. Through the film over your violet eyes, Luke frowns and pulls your fingertips to his lips, kissing each one. He hasn’t done that in years.

“Did I make a mistake? Do I lose you, in the end?”

“Angelface…” you sniff, leaning your cheek against his hand, “You were so scared of losing me that you didn't even stop to think of what losing you would do to me. I lost you so long ago, Luke. And you’re not mine anymore. I don't think you have been in a long time.” In these heels, your forehead is closer to his lips so he kisses that too, hoping that somehow this time he can will away your pain instead of his. He doesn’t know what to do but hold you until you say something again.

“I’ll tell you something you need to hear. And no matter what you say or think, babe—it’s the truth. Even without all the glory in the world I would still be yours. I still am, even if I can’t bear it.”

Though he’s holding you, it somehow feels like the opposite—a purer version of him in your embrace while he holds the broken pieces of you together with his golden touch. Right now, you look into honey instead of gold. The both of you look at each other in the mirror melded together like kintsugi, something good still shining through the cracks of you two together like this.

The sound of keys jangling in the lock of the front door lifts you from his embrace, and with one look you both know its time for him to go; Luke’s brows furrow as he mutters, “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this, and we’ll be together. I promise.” You nod anyway, hoping at least one of you believe it.

“Go home, Luke. She…I still need you. I’m always gonna.”

He’s already got Backbiter in hand and one foot through time when he looks back at you. Your voice sounds a lot like how it does when you tell him you love him. Luke wonders how long it’s been since you did. Your bedroom door opens with a bang and some laughter.

“Hey troublemaker, you left the dryer on! All your clothes are gonna shrink,” Jo grins, peeking her head through the doorway of your room and she’s looking at you in your graduation gown standing there alone.

“Were you on the phone? Who were you talking to?”

It’s quiet in the apartment again. Your fingernails make indents in your palms, bunching up into fists before you let go. A sad smile crosses your face as you let the settling wind kiss your cheeks, before reality kicks in and everything settles back to how it was before. 

“Just someone I used to know.”

—

“And no one can ever figure out what you want, and you won’t tell them, and you realize the one person in the world who loves you isn’t the one you thought it would be, and you don’t trust him to love you in a way you would enjoy.” -Richard Siken

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?)

1/2 luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko@bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303  @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

[cillians-sweetheart]

The Marriage - Cillian Murphy

Cillian Murphy!Husband (34) x Virgin!Fem!Reader (18)

Plot: During the Middle-bronze age (The era of the bible's setting), a young girl reaches womanhood and is now marriageable and ripe to conceive.

(Story is based off the novel, The Red Tent by Anita Diamant)

Contents: Religious themes/rituals, speak of menstruation, arranged marriage, slight submission/praise (f receiving), smut, age-gap, oral (f receiving), unprotected pv, and breeding in a semi-public setting.

Let's just say for this scenario that she was a late bloomer and is 18. To prevent controversy.

My sisters gathered around me, with their blessings and songs of prayer. I cried of relief, as they each kissed the delicate skin on my hands and face. After the several, devastating years of being seen as nothing more than an unripe child who cannot marry, I woke to bleed my first blood. 

Circled around me within the red tent, my sisters praised my ripening of womanhood. With great love they sang the song of the seventy gods, announcing the birth of my womb, “Whose fairness is like Anath’s fairness, Whose beauty like Astarte’s beauty. Astarte is now in your womb, You bear the power of Elath.” 

I was fed sweet bread by the hands of the women, and drank fruity wine. Henna was rubbed onto my fingernails, and my eyelids were painted yellow. Every sacred jewel and gem owned by my mothers and sisters, coated my fingers and toes, and my wrists and ankles. Their voices sang with an aura of a goddess. Enchanting my sacred womb with the magic of fertility, and coming birth. 

Aromatic oils were messaged on my belly, and my feet by my oldest sister Leah; a loving mother of eight. She was one of the most blessed amongst the four of my sisters. The rest have from only one to two boys due to an almost fatal labor lasting them days and days on of bleeding and suffering.

I slept through the night with my sisters laying on my sides, their arms interlaced around me as they each whispered to me with worship of my wedding and birthing to come. “A husband is the only man to take the robes from your body, to give you life to grow.” Leah’s gentle fingers ran through the strands of my hair. “That was my fathers teaching about husbands and wives… Until you rise from your monthly bleed, you shall become a bride.” Those were the last words I heard from Leah before I had fallen asleep. 

The day of the new moon, and the ending of the week, I was brought to the wedding feast, surrounded by my sisters, and my mothers and aunties. A mother of mine knelt down to me, holding my hands in hers. “On my wedding night, my love, I was happier than I had ever been.” Her tone was wise as she gazed up into my shivering, virgin eyes. “But I was filled with dread. Fearing my husband would turn away from me in disgust.” She spoke to give me comfort but also a warning as any mother would do. Coming to my side, Leah said over my mother, “I thought the day would never end,” She added, laying the veil over my frightened face. “I could not be seen through my veil, nor could I see out clearly, but my husband Jacob stood to help me to my feet, leading me to the tent where we spent the seven days.”

As a young girl I always heard the gossiping stories from my sisters and aunties of the days with their husbands. Those first seven nights they’d spend together with lust and the temporary love of a first marriage. And soon after the swelling of their bellies and ankles, to the deathly, bloody birth of a beautiful baby. 

After the feast of bread and lamb, I was brought to a man. His eyes shone down to me through my veil with a bright blue, and his skin was pale, and freckled. He wasn’t much so like the rest of the man. Not smelling of goats, and with good health. 

The man introduced himself as Cillian. A man who was well spoken of throughout the site by my aunts and mothers. His large, but gentle hands lifted mine to where he kissed both lovingly. 

“My angel… I take you as my wife, and as the beautiful mother to our children.” His voice was low and silky to my ears. From there he had led me to the tent where my sisters gathered and blessed me with their kisses and words of prayer. I felt hardly able to breath but excited about my marriage, and womanhood. I followed Cillian into the tent where I’d lay with him for the next lustful seven days. 

My mother told me my husband would only lift up my robes and enter me still wearing his. From there his large but delicate hands ran over my shoulders and down my chest. His warm body came closer to me. The heat from his chest radiating between us. My eyes closed and my mind melted to his touch along my chest, slowly tearing away my robe.

The land around us began to quieten, and darken as the sun grew red along the horizon. My veil was not to be removed until darkness occurred. And when it did his eyes held pure love to my face as he lifted the veil. His gentle hands took my face. Holding my cheeks.

My hands reached out to his waist, reaching up and down his slim torso. He reached my face to his lips, kissing my cheeks, my lips, and the tip of my nose. With my hands I pulled myself closer against his body. I felt something I’ve never had before feeling his body. It was a real man, who would bless me with many sons. Sons as handsome, and gentle as their dear father.

My robe in slow, controlled motion, rolled down my shoulders and over my chest. I was revealed before my husband in the darkening tent. A hand from my cheek came down to my breast. He messages the squishy flesh while his kiss continues to seduce my lips.

His sex -as my sisters always told me- hardened against my stomach. The heat through his robe filled my belly with sensitivity, and caused my thighs to pulse.

Cillian began to lead me to the bed, where he laid back. His lips barely parted from mine as he gently lowered me. From there his plump lips slid and pecked at my soft neck. His kiss was tender, and with great passion as they traveled down my chest and over my hardened nipples. My hands ran up his back as I watched his sweet lips kiss lustfully down my bare torso. His hands explored my thighs, rubbing and spreading them between him.

My tingling hips and thighs shivered as he kissed with his tongue deep between my legs. My core tightened and I inhaled deeply. I felt things through every nerve of my little body; new pleasurable things.

He praised my virgin sex with his delicate kisses. Between his lips, he called me his angel, his beloved, his precious wife. He kissed, and licked me until the tightness beneath his robe became too much to handle.

Cillian lifted himself from between my shivering thighs and quickly pulled at the tent in his robe. I laid on my back looking up at his godly, handsome face. Then to his hands as the eagerly revealed his pulsing cock. Cut and cleaned so perfectly. The kind my sisters would giggle and praise about.

He held my legs open and rubbed with his cock between them over my soft, wet flesh. His hands messaged at my thighs, while teasing himself along my smooth folds. My heart pounded through my chest with nervousness, and anticipation to feel what my sisters and mothers would crave from a man; their husbands.

With a slow, easy thrust of his hips, I was opened for the first time. My womb filled with the wet pleasure of a man. My hips sunk deep against his. Although it stung as he pushed his cock deeper and deeper, the pleasure in my stomach, and womb ached. I felt the breath in my chest get heavy, my exhales coming out as a high pitched moan of pleasure.

He continued to thrust against me, his pace increasing as he gave in to his dominant urges. My hips lifted and my legs wrapped tightly around his torso. I reached, and held onto him. Burying my moans into his muscular shoulder.

His breath was heavy, and made low, sensual groans. I reached his face, and kissed deeply on his lips. My sex flexed against his, causing him to moan, and shiver from on top of me. My legs began to twitch, and clenched tightly around Cillian. Our lips were moaning between one another's. Becoming increasingly loud and pleasurable to those who listen from outside.

My sisters, and mothers gathered within their tents and prayed for the fertilization of a healthy baby boy. And as one of my mothers once said, "The woman's orgasm is essential for a quicker, easier birth." Which was exactly what I was trying to do, and though I've never felt sexual release, I could tell by my immense pleasure that it was coming. Deep, internal tickles caused my legs to quiver around Cillian's slim torso, and my tight walls to squeeze his cock with a loving force.

He groaned deeply and his hips thrusted harder into me. The increased pleasure made our love making able to be heard through many tents. With the sweet sounds of pleasurable whispers and moans.

Wetness spread along both of our heated bodies. I felt myself leaking -as if I had been peeing myself- on the bed below us and onto his enlarged, pulsing cock. My back lifted, and again he quickened his beating to my soft flesh. More of my fluids continued to push against him and leak from my aroused entrance. I bit onto my tongue as the feelings, and my uncontrollable moans became too much. My sex, legs, and arms squeezed tightly around him. Shaking and whimpering my way through the sensitive pleasure.

With his last few forceful trusts, He groaned such a sexy sound and twitched from within my womb. I held onto his hot, sweaty body. His lips kissed lovingly on my neck, and I kissed onto his head.

We laid in ones another's arms, praying with our love that a son will be born. Before we were to sleep, Cillian laid gentle kisses along my womb through my belly. His touch was praising as he rubbed and kissed my body. Again kissing the sweet arousal from my wet sex.

In the blackened tent, we slept in the warmth and love between our bodies. Behind my bare back he laid, his arm over my torso, lovingly stroking my cheek and shoulder until I had fallen asleep.

In my sleep I made great prayers to have a full, rounded womb. Filled with life, and love of an infant. A boy, with the beautiful sex of his father, and the handsome looks to gain many, many wives and children.

[4unnyr0se]

Hi love your writing!! I havent touched HQ in 3 years but Im starting to love old characters I use to fall in love with like Asahi, Oikawa, Bokuto etc,,, so as my first req, could you pls write fem! Reader x Bokuto fluff in HS?

Like Bokuto trying to court the reader. How would that go? And how did he finally ask us out?

Feel free to ignore this if you dont like the idea! Ty for ur time 🤍❤️🤍

❥ young love at fukurodani | kotaro bokuto

warnings: none that i can think of. this is pure fluff

MDNI | No 18+ content, I just don't want minors interacting with my blog

word count -> 1.6k

okay so aaaa this didn't rlly follow the ask bc all he does is ask reader to tutor him and then cute stuff happens but i can make a hc of it probably tonight or tomorrow?? also i wrote this when i was having tummy issues so im very sorry if its horrible. i love u!

got a request? my asks are open!

Bokuto wasn’t one to get embarrassed that easily. Sure, he did embarrassing things but didn’t know they were embarrassing. They were part of his boyish charm, which people loved about him…right? Of course, they did. He was Kotaro Bokuto. He was Fukurodani’s ace, and the people loved him for it. So why, if he was so confident, did he get awkward and embarrassed around you, his pretty classmate?

Saying you were gorgeous was an understatement. He couldn’t find the right words to describe you to his friends, mainly Akaashi. “She’s just like, y’know? And I’m like, oh damn! She’s cute as fuck!” Boktuo would make various gestures with his hands as he and Akaashi sat on the steps leading to the gym, sipping cola from the vending machine. “What do I do, Akaashi? She’s so pretty, and I’m pretty too! The only problem is that everyone else in our year thinks so, too…do I even have a shot?”

Akaashi would offer him a pitiful smile, rubbing his back in assurance. “Well, isn’t she one of the smartest in our year?”

“Yeah, smart and pretty. She’s so fucking perfect, I wish you could see her.” he pouted.

“Well, the answer is simple,” Akaashi said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. Ask her for help with homework; god knows you need it.”

“Hey! I got a 41 on my chemistry test!” Bokuto yelled at Akaashi as the setter entered the gym. But he did have a point, like always. Bokuto decided then and there that he would ask you to tutor him tomorrow, no matter how anxious he was. Anxiety was for suckers anyway.

“Hey, wait up!” Bokuto ran after you as you exited your classroom, papers flying out of his messy bookbag that was riddled with stains from only God knows what. “I gotta ask you a question!”

You stopped walking and turned your heel, raising an eyebrow as the Fukurodani captain barreled towards you. “Hey, what’s up, Bokuto? How’s volleyball going? Are we headed to nationals?” you asked, placing a hand on your hip. God, even the way you held yourself was perfect. Were you an actual goddess, or was Bokuto just lovestruck?

Bokuto finally caught up to you, leaning against the hallway walls in an attempt to appear suave and put-together. His messy uniform didn’t help his cause, but he forgot to look neat today. And every day after that. “Uh, I was wondering if you understood what we were assigned in English yesterday? I don’t understand any of it to save my skin, hah,” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes. “Did you get what our teacher was saying?”

“Yeah, it was really simple. Just basic grammar and syntax structures. Was it complicated for you?” you tilted your head to the side.

“I don’t really get it. Wanna tutor me at my house today? I can get you snacks!” he offered you a crooked smile, leaning forward so his golden eyes peered into yours. “C’mon, please? The coach will kick my ass if I don’t get my grades up, and I have a game next week! Pretty please?” he folded his hands in prayer, his bottom lip in a childish pout.

You smiled and nodded, grabbing him off the wall. Bokuto blushed at the sudden contact, noticing how neat you kept your fingernails compared to his own. Yours were neatly polished to perfection while he bit his nails almost constantly, and being a wing spiker didn’t come with having good-looking nails. 

“Where’s your house? Is it walking distance?” you let go of his hand, much to Bokuto’s dismay. 

“Yeah, it’s about five minutes from here. Wanna stop at a convenience store on the way? I’m really hungry.” he rubbed his stomach as you two walked out the nearest exit, your messenger bag dangling over your shoulder. 

“Only if you’re paying,” you joked, rubbing his shoulder. Bokuto could have sworn his heart stopped right then and there. Were you actually flirting with him, or were you just really touchy? Either way, it was a win in his book. 

“Sure, I don’t mind. Anything for a pretty girl like yo-” Bokuto stopped his sentence, smacking his hand over his mouth. “I-I mean, why wouldn’t I mind? I’m a captain, after all. It’s my job to provide for my teammates!”

“But I’m not on any sports teams. I’m not your teammate.” you deadpanned, 

“You know what I mean!” Bokuto whined, wiping his forehead of the sweat that was slowly starting to gather. “Damn, it’s a hot one today. Why won’t they let the guys wear shorts? Do they want us to die of heat stroke or something?”

“I honestly have no idea,” you sighed, walking under the shade of the convenience store roof. “Wait a minute,” you instructed, placing your messenger bag on the hot pavement. You shrugged off your school blazer and wrapped it around your waist tightly in an attempt to cool you off. You also rolled up the sleeves of your white blouse, loosening your collar. “Sorry, I’m just really warm. At least we get to wear skirts, right?” you offered him a lopsided smile.

Bokuto’s heart pounded in his chest. “Uh, yeah, you girls are so lucky. Wearing skirts must feel awesome.”

“It’s awesome until you catch someone trying to look it up,” you mumbled in annoyance, hoisting your bag over your shoulders. 

“What the actual fuck? Who was it? I’ll murder them! I'll text Konoha too; he’ll definitely want in on it,” Bokuto clenched his fists together, walking into the store with you. “I’m sorry that happened to you, honestly.

You shrugged your shoulder and rummaged through the ice cream pin, choosing a passionfruit-flavored ice bar. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I barely know you, anyways.”

“That doesn’t mean that I can’t protect you from jerks like that guy,” Bokuto angrily shoved his hands in his pockets, tapping his foot on the tile. He fished about 400 yen out of his pocket and handed it to the cashier, ushering you out of the shop as quickly as possible. 

“What was that for?” you asked, unwrapping the popsicle. 

“I didn’t like how he looked at you, that’s all.” Bokuto huffed. He made grabby motions for your bookbag, which you handed to him with a confused look on your features. “Let me carry that, please. You’re too pretty to carry heavy stuff around like that all day.”

You paused your walk and stared at Bokuto, blushing softly. “You think I’m pretty?” 

Bokuto slowly nodded and gave you a crooked smile, blushing in turn. “Yeah, I really do. I was afraid to tell you before, but now I’m all fired up. I wanna protect you from creeps, y’know?”

You popped the ice treat out of your mouth and stepped forward, smiling softly. “We barely know each other, and you want to keep me safe? We haven’t even hung out once.”

“We’re heading to my house right now, aren’t we?” Bokuto shrugged, his blush not fading. 

You chuckled and took another step forward, the tips of your noses brushing against each other. “Yeah, I guess we are,” you whispered, your lips dangerously close to his own. “You know, I always thought you were kind of cute. In the athletic kind of way, I suppose.”

Bokuto dropped the bags he held onto the hot concrete beneath you, praying they wouldn’t roll down the hill you were standing on. You two were in a remote location, and the tension was thick. “You think I’m cute?” he tilted his head to the side, his eyelids dropping halfway. 

“Mhm,” you purred, your popsicle dripping from the intense heat. “Super cute.”

“Fuck,” Bokuto’s hands hovered above your waist, unsure of what you wanted him to do. “Uh, is it okay if I kiss you? Please, cutie?” he quietly pleaded, your lips basically touching at this point. 

You smiled and nodded, holding your melting popsicle behind your back. “Mhm, it’s okay.”

Bokuto smiled as his lips interlocked with yours for a minute, savoring the sweet passionfruit flavor that coated them. His hands squeezed your waist childishly, never wanting this moment between the two of you to end. This kiss was exactly how he dreamed it would be, soft and perfect. Just like you.

You pulled away after a bit and giggled, your popsicle having since fallen onto the heated pavement. Your sticky hands cupped his face, the pads of your thumbs running over his defined cheekbones. “You’re a good kisser,” you pecked his forehead bravely. “Like, a really good kisser.”

“Same to you, cutie,” his hands left your waist, choosing to instead secure your wrists. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that. So. Fucking. Long.”

 A chuckle escaped your lips as your hands fell to your waist again, intertwining your fingers with Bokuto’s. You had never notified it before, but he was much bigger than you. It made you feel safe and secure. Protected. “We should probably get to your house to study, shouldn’t we?” 

“Aw, I was having so much fun kissing you on the sidewalk!” Bokuto pretended to whine, kicking a loose pebble that was in his way. He easily picked up the bags with his spare hand and tossed them over his broad shoulder. 

“Tell you what,” you squeezed his hand. “For every question you get right, I’ll give you a kiss. Does that sound like a fair deal?”

“Hell yeah, it does!” Bokuto kissed you on the cheek in excitement. He practically skipped to his house with you in tow, excited for what the rest of the day would have in store.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy holidays! Do you have any zagreus interacting with other gods? Thanks so much

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Other people are learning about Zagreus.

Not that they know it's him, of course. He goes by the moniker prince.

Just enough to direct prayers and pay tributes, but a nameless god standing against Demeter? It's enough to send the whole pantheon in an uproar.

It's enough to send Demeter to heights of rage that Artemis previously thought her incapable of reaching.

There are gardens that her frost can't touch. Fruit she she has no hand in growing.

There are people who will not submit and die as she wishes it, blaming mortals for her daughter's death and so making them pay the price for a lost goddess.

Not even Zeus has rained destruction upon the mortals like Demeter had and not even Zeus can stop her.

It's too much. Too much taken, too much suffering.

Persephone was a sweet girl. But her loss is not worth the life of every mortal upon the earth.

Artemis is with Aphrodite, both of them having been evoked powerfully enough to send shivers down their spine. She leans against her spear and tried to think of any other way to fix this.

It's a town on the edge of collapse, a thick forest between them and the rest of civilization. In spring the journey is long but easy enough, but it hasn't been spring for a long time.

There's no game to hunt. Loved ones are dying. They beg and beg to any god that will listen but while every god can hear them no god can save them.

None but one.

But how would they know? This far out, there only contact is other isolated villages too deep in the world.

"I'm tired," Aphrodite whispers, knees pulled to her chest, something about her coltish in her helplessness.

Artemis has never tried this. She doesn't even know if it will work. But he won't ever find his way here on his own. "Can you keep a secret, Aphrodite?"

She shifts her head enough to look at her with a single garnet eye. "What secret do you have, sister mine?"

"Aphrodite," she says warningly.

She huffs, amusement aging her. "Yes, yes, my silence or my life. What is it?"

Artemis hopes she doesn't regret this. She hopes it works. "Prince Zagreus!"

"What's Zag going to do?" Aphrodite blinks. "He can't even-"

She cuts herself off and Artemis knows she's thinking through the first part, coming to the obvious conclusion and rejecting it out of hand.

"Artemis?"

They both turn and Zagreus is standing there. Not as image or projection like he was the last time they met face to face, but solidly beside her in the flesh.

He grimaces in pain and raises a hand to his side before straightening and forcing his arm down. Whatever it is that keeps him in his father's realm still has some hold on him, it seems.

"I'm kind of in the middle of something," he says. There's blood on his teeth. There wasn't any a couple seconds ago. "Oh, hi Aphrodite. Er. Please don't tell anyone."

"It's you?" Aphrodite demands. "You?"

"I am me," he agrees.

Artemis would beat him if they had the time for it. "Can you help them? This village will die. Word of you hasn't reached them and your temples are too far to travel too even if they had."

He grins it's all red. His blood drips down his chin. "It's not going to be pretty."

Artemis has never thought about how exactly the god of life and blood spreads his blessings. She thinks she's regretting that now.

"Pretty's my domain anyway," Aphrodite snaps. "Help them."

Zagreus moves too quickly for Artemis to stop. He grabs her spear and slices down his chest and then there's blood everywhere, pouring out of him, more than should be in any one body.

Aphrodite screams and Artemis wrenches the spear away, horrified. "This is celestial silver! You can't - even gods can't heal from it!"

"Death heals all wounds," he says and there's blood down his chin, spilling out his mouth with his every breath.

Then he's running.

They talk off after him and it's easy to follow his trail, the deluge blood and smell of copper filling her nose as they chase him.

Zagreus is mad. When she wasn't looking he went insane and now she's killed him.

They have to slow him down, have to get him to Hermes. It should be easy, they're goddesses and he's dying, but he stays fast enough to stay just out of their grasps.

He's lose a body's worth of blood a dozen times over and yet still more flows.

He finally trips and falls, giving gurgling breathes.

"Zagreus!" she shouts as she and Aphrodite fall into the snow beside him. "Zagreus, hold on, it's going to be okay."

He laughs and pats her cheek. He's too pale. "Relax. I die all the time."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Aphrodite demands, trying to put her hands over the wound but it's too long to stem.

Zagreus doesn't answer.

His body goes slack and it takes Artemis several seconds to realize the person screaming is her.

Aphrodite is sitting there shell shocked and bewildered and then Zagreus's body sinks into the earth, not even reacting to Artemis's attempts to hold on.

"Oh."

She looks up and Aphrodite is looking behind them. Artemis slowly follows her gaze.

Every place blood touched the ground, there now grows bushes of bright purple berries, more vibrant than any fruit she's seen grow that shade. They grow thick and fat on every branch and if there anything like the other food in Prince's gardens, it will keep them alive and they'll be able to grow more themselves.

If they're willing to sacrifice the blood.

The next time Artemis sees Zagreus, she's going to kill him.

[mmxxviii]

okay i don't know how wild of a take this is, but hear me out.

cassandra is not the god. kristen is.

now, in terms of game mechanics, that's not true. cassandra is very clearly a god, and kristen is her cleric and follower. kristen gets her powers from cassandra, cassandra gets worship from kristen (and presumably other people who kristen is recruiting).

but that's not how their relationship works.

gods also get power from their followers, you know? they get power from the worship they receive. except kristen isn't really doing a lot of worshipping right now. but you know who is? cassandra. she is begging, praying, for kristen to talk to her, to take time out of her day and all her responsibilities, to listen to the person that has put their faith in her. as much as kristen has faith in cassandra (even if she isn't actively recognizing it), cassandra has faith in kristen.

You don't have to be sorry. Hey, not too many people believe in me, but I believe in you. You brought me back, and I know you've been having a hard time, but when you're in the dark, I'm there holding your hand, okay?

in the last couple episodes, we've seen a lot about how kristen (and maybe craig) are the only ones keeping cassandra from oblivion. normally, it would be well within a god's power to strike down, to smite, anyone they wished, including one of their own followers. but if cassandra hurts kristen, she dies. meanwhile, kristen holds a very god-like power in her hands. she's already killed one god by rescinding her worship. she could very easily kill cassandra.

I see what you're saying. Yes, we are holding you from oblivion, and we're just kinda not doing a very good job right now. That's what you're kinda trying to tell me.

gods are busy. they try to listen to prayers, but they're so very busy and important. all cassandra has right now is kristen. that is her sole focus (aside from maybe not dying). kristen is busy. she ignores cassandra. cassandra texts kristen's friends to try and get kristen to talk to her. in that first episode or two, cassandra is desperate to be heard, to have a conversation, and kristen, who holds all the power, keeps shutting her down.

20 texts in a row saying, "Is Kristen mad at me?" From a goddess.

it isn't that kristen doesn't care. of course she does. gods always care. but her domain is mystery and doubt. she doesn't have all the answers. she isn't omnipotent. she is a teenager who has been thrust from clericdom to sainthood to godhood and she doesn't even know it.

kristen isn't the one bleeding red light. cassandra is.

if you're a cleric, and you let your god die, that's a failure. if you're a god and you let your cleric die, what is that?

[nonbinarylocalcryptid]

This is how I think Astyanax would know react to being told what happened at Troy.

Context: Odysseus and Astyanax are trapped in Calypso's island. Unfortunetely, Zeus is bored, so he sends a message (maybe a letter? Maybe he just sends Hermes and call it a day?) to fuck things up a bit and mess with Odysseus. It works wonders. Nine years old Astyanax reacts poorly.

Here's what happens when Odysseus finds him after receiving the message.

The sun was about to set, filling the silence with the sound of the waves hitting the beach. Only Odysseus had the audacity to talk.

"My son..."

That wasn't welcome, not anymore.

"Am I?" Asked the boy. He was trembling, but not from the breeze. "Your son?"

For once, Calypso didn't try to insert herself in the conversation, even the chatty goddess was speechless.

"I always wondered, why we don't look alike at all? I was adopted, I knew, but I thought I was your nephew, even a cousin".

"Son..."

Odysseus was interrupted

"How can you call me that? My family, my whole country... it's gone, and it's your fault".

The man took a short breath.

"I'm not going to ask for forgiveness..."

"Good", Astyanax was done, "because there's no forgiving you. Tell me everything that happened, tell me about what went down that night".

He stared at the older man while he shook his head.

"Astyanax, save yourself that pain, the endless pain of the war shouldn't be a child's warden".

"But it is!" Bursted out the kid. "You decided to spare me on a whim!"

"That's not what happened."

"Then what?" A desperate question. "Am I a warprize?"

"Don't call yourself that." It was soft spoken, like a prayer.

Astyanax was no god.

"What am I supposed to think?"

Trying to descalate the situation, Calypso spoke.

"Maybe what your father is trying to say..."

Any other day, the goddess' inside was welcome, as she was Astyanax's friend. Today he was having none of it.

"SHUT UP NOBODY ASKED YOU-"

"HEY", Odysseus stopped him, "don't yell at her. You want to know what happened? Put your emotions aside, and sit with me by the fire".

They did so, and Odysseus told him. About the Trojan war, about ten years of slow killing, about the ressiliance of Troy. He told him about Achilles and Patroclus, about Paris and Helen.

He told the story of the wooden horse.

About longing to go home.

Diomedes led the charge. Agamemnon flanked the guards. Menelaus let the men through the gates. They took the whole city at large. Teucer will shot every ambush attack. And Little Ajax stayed back. Nestor secured Helen and protected her. Neo, avenged his father, killing the brothers of Hector.

About a mission, to kill someone's son, someone who wouldn't run, someone who could only be dealt with right there and then. About a baby in a cradle. About Zeus' prophecy. About him.

About someone who was just a man.

Troy fell.

The Ithacan fleet sailed, hoping to reach home.

They never did.

When he was done remembering the past, he looked at the boy, who was sitting at the other side of the flame, hands covering his face.

It took a long time for Astyanax to even look at him, let alone spoke up, but he finally did it.

"I don't know what to say." He confessed, bathed in the fire's light. "I hate you, I do, I'm so full of rage right now...but I love you, and I hate you so much. You should have killed me when you had the chance, why didn't you?"

The answer came easyly to Odysseus's lips.

"Mercy". He dared to say, the blasphemy of it haunting them, with only the fire and the waves as witnesses. "You haven't done anything, you were a child who had only known love. What was the point?"

"Zeus told you to do it. One should not defy the gods".

A dark laugh came from Odysseus, startling the kid

"That's all we have ever done since we met." Odysseus spoke the truth, and Astyanax hated him for it. "A god ordered a child's death. Where's my free will? Your right to a peaceful life? They're supposed to protect us...and look where we are now because of them."

Astyanax looked at him, right in the eyes, before saying his part.

"I hate you."

Odysseus sighed, tired, defeated.

"I know." Resigned.

"I have one more question."

Just one question? Odysseus would have give him anything he asked for. A question he could do.

"Go ahead."

Like a dreadful night, so many years ago, he thought he was ready. He wasn't ready.

"Do you even love me?"

Tears came to his eyes when the boy asked that question. How many times can a heart break until there's nothing left?

"How couldn't I? To love my children it's the easiest thing I've ever done."

Whatever was the veredict, he would take it, he owed Astyanax that much.

And then Astyanax got up. There was no emotions in his voice when he talked

"You are without doubt, a cruel man, Odysseus of Ithaca."

He walked away, letting a crying man behind.

[stardancerluv]

What the Emperor Wants

Part 6

Summary: A new dynamic between and the reader who belongs to him. Things take place the dark of the night.

Notes/Warning: 18+, pinv consensual intercourse (be safe!), virginity lost, blood & a dagger is mentioned, ownership, womanhood is mentioned, worship and belief of old gods, mentions of someone that pays Geta in the middle of the night (no spoiler, please read!)

Strigil: to clean off the oils or soaps off a body. Sperlonga: where Julius Ceaser first emperor of Rome was born, Borghi più belli d'Italia: means the most beautiful village in Italy.

❤️s, reblogs, comments, feedback are all welcome! Thank you for reading. 💐

You felt as his eyes drifted over you.

"I am very proud of you today."

Licking his bottom lip, he bit it. He looked as of

he was thinking of what else needed to be said.

"You did not make me regret my decision."

"I am glad."

A smile curled his lips.

"Come here."

Your heart beat harder as drew closer.

"I wish to relax for the rest of the night."

He pointed to a bottle of oil.

"Rub that into my back. While you do so, using

your words like an artist, tell me where your

people come from."

"If that is what you wish."

"It is." He took a seat on a stone bench near you.”

"Rub that into my back. While you do so, using your words like an artist, tell me where your people come from."

"If that is what you wish."

"It is." He took a seat on a stone bench near you. Nearing the bottle you saw a very elegant strigil. When you picked it up, it scrapped against the marble table

"It's very sharp.'

"It is. So be careful, I do not wish to shed my blood tonight."

You nodded.

"If we are to shed any blood, it will be your womanhood."

"My womanhood." You echoed.

You had heard of it being possible but hearing it again made your stomach churn.

He turned more towards you from where he sat and looked at you. His hair cascaded over his brow like a sunset.

"Yes, it is the sacrifice that is made to the great gods of the heavens and to your emperor?”

"Yes, Geta. I understand:

"You better. I do not feel you are a hysterical girl.”

“I’ve never been known to be one.”

“Good.”

He sat once again with his back to it.

You placed the strigil down. You rubbed your hands together, warming them. You mother had always taught you it is better to touch with warmth then coolness.

Pulling the stopper you brought the bottle of the fine oil to your nose. Your eyes, grew.

“Sire?”

He didn’t move. “What did I say about that?”

“Geta,” You swallowed. “I am sorry.”

“It’s fine. It shows how well you have been trained.”

Even though you could not see it; you were convinced one of his cooler smiles curled his lips at that remark.

“Yes.”

“What is it? Why the pause?”

“The oil. It is the same used on me earlier.”

“Yes, yes it is.”

“But, but…” You voice trailed off as the words failed to be expressed.

“You belong to me. I will share the best with you when I choose it to be.”

“Oh?” A flutter went through you. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, don’t make me wait any further.”

“Yes, yes of course.”

You placed the bottle down, then once again rubbed your hands. A good spirit filled you at the thought. You would keep in a good temperament whenever you could.

Picking up the bottle, you poured some of the oil on your hands first, instead of just dribbling some on his back first. If had always felt more comforting when done this. You hoped he would feel the same way.

In the brief moment before your hands felt his shoulders, you were certain they tingled. Perhaps it was the goddess Venus blessing you tonight. You murmured a soft prayer to her and then laid your hands upon him.

Your heart felt like it would erupt from you. It was beating very hard.

Your hands drifted, rubbed and gently squeezed where it felt needed. His posture stopped being rigid after some time. But he didn’t utter a word, you took it as a sign he was enjoying himself.

Pausing for a breath, you poured some more oil onto your palm.

“Oh, yes. You have grown to silent.”

He looked at you over his shoulder. His profile sharper than the coins that attempted to bear his likeness

“You are to still tell me of where your family comes from.”

“Yes.”

You placed the bottle down once again.

You began to move your hands down lower on his strong back. A strong warmth burned him. It was the strength of the gods, you were certain of it.

“My family lived on the brink of forever. Where the water laps against golden sands are a brilliant and turquoise.”

“Does it go by the name Sperlonga?”

“Yes, Geta I was told that is its name.”

“You come from a mighty land. The great Tiberius came from that ground.”

“Our first Emperor, Geta?” You gad heard whispering among the elders.

“Yes, yes he was.” He paused. “Now, I know quite more about you.”

“Geta, I am confused.”

A chuckle came from him and he turned away but then moved more so he could face you.

“Borghi più belli d'Italia.”

He said simply, his tongue becoming elegant. He spoke of the sentiment you heard frequently of your village.

“And you, are also quite lovely. Your roots are from there. Though I would dare say being in Rome and working so closely to your emperor, only helped with your beauty. The goddesses and gods are kind to you.”

You trembled, you didn’t know what to say. You bowed your head.

“Thank you Geta.”

He nodded, before reaching for and grabbing the strigil.

“Time for you to finish.”

“Yes.” Though you placed it down.

You went to the plant with its large leaves and knowing which ones were dying, their edges browning, you pinched them off at the stem and brought them over and placed them under foot.

“For an easier clean.”

He nodded.

You took a breath, steadied your hand and soon scrapped away the layer of oil. His skin had a new radiance. His features, the strength underneath shone through. Once done you, wiped the strigil and placed it on the table and put the stopper back into the bottle.

He rolled his shoulder. He made a soft, pleasant sound and soon stood. Once again he was close and you were reminded of how he could tower over you. A smile was on his lips.

He brought your chin up. “You didn’t even prick the skin.”

“You warned me, so I kept my breath and was careful yet thorough.”

“Good for that.” His thumb caressed your jaw. “Remove your garments and go and lay in the bed.” His eyes narrowed. “On your back.”

You nodded. And he let you go.

Your heart had beat hard before, now more. Besides the bed is where you loosened the knots and undid the clasp that bore his profile. Not know where to go exactly, you went to its center.

He came over, he did the knot of his belt. Soon like falling leaves, his braccae fell to the ground, not far from where your garments laid.

He crawled over to you. Your stomach fluttered. Truly, the gods had been kind to him. He was trim and sharp like the staues artists have erected in his honor.

He came to rest beside you. “I will touch you now.”

“Yes Geta.”

Soft sounds came from you as his finger tips grazed from your cheek, to your throat to your chest. He cupped one of your breasts.

“Oh, it feels good. I am sure one day they would be good for a babe to suckle at.”

“I hope so.” Your voice shook. His touch was light, barely felt it. But made you very pleased. Soft sounds came from you.

A smile curled his lips.

His hand drifted over to where your heart was. You don’t know why but you shifted a breath.

His dark eyes found yours.

“My heart, is thudding hard.” It was all you could say, you were terribly breathless. Could barely hold onto one.

“That is how it is. You have not departed yet, from this world for the underworld blossom.”

“Oh?”

He nodded.

Moving back, his hand then splayed on your chest. He smiled. “See I felt it move faster. It is responding to me.”

“I believe so.”

His hand then traveled along the curve and softness of tour stomach.

“Your body pleasing me greatly.”

You nodded. “I am glad.”

You gasped, your eyes grew when you found his hand cupping you.

“This feels good.” He gave you a squeeze. “Soft, warm. Ready, to welcome me?”

“Yes.”

“Open your legs for me, bid me entrance.”

He climbed over you, the sight made tingles come from the very center. The sensations, were welcome but they did spread through you. In your breathless state, you glanced away from his magnificence.

“Am I so ill to the eye. Should I have warmed you with wine like my brother does with the dancers, he randomly beds?”

His words were sharp, they stung.

You quickly looked back. “No, Geta. It is just you are truly like a god before. And I can barely catch my breath. I do know what you shall want me to do.”

An edge remain but his words were softer.

“Let your body, let your heart lead. They will know what to do.”

“As you wish.”

Soon, with his free hand you felt as he opened you further so he could properly settle between your legs. The tingles, you had felt earlier caused a needy ache in you. Perhaps, it was that part of you that knew what to do while being guided by the fates.

You felt as he brushed against you, a soft sound escaped your lips, a mixture of pleasure and surprise. It had felt good. You glanced down. His arousal was quite big, it matched the rest of his beauty.

“Your body as responded to me. Just like the ground is thirsty for the water from the rains, your body is ready.”

“Yes. But am I not too small. I do not want to cause any displeasure in you.”

You were taken aback. You had not expected to be more ready then you were. Perhaps it was from his gentle words and touch. You tried to understand how you were feeling empty, feeling an unexplainable need for him. But you wanted this and would not stop him.

“A sword sheaths itself, that sheath must must be barely big enough to hold the sword it is safe. You are perfect, for me. Though, I should remind you there will be pain. It is the sacrifice that must be made. From this night forth, you will forever be mine along with your woman hood.”

You nodded. You felt there was no great sacrifice then to one’s emperor who had already been far kinder then you could have ever expected.

At first, there was quite a bit of pressure and it was not long before the slice of pain ripped through you. You gasped and called out, arching against him. You clawed at the soft fabrics under the two of you.

He still and waited till your body called and it did, but sweat broke out as if you were out in the sun. It must be from warmth that came from him. The pain soon ebbed.

“Shall I continue?” That was when you realized he had truly stilled but was still deep within you.

“Please.” Something you were unfamiliar began to build within you and you wanted more of it.

Soon, Geta easily began moving easily in and out of you. His breathing shortened and sounds, came from him you had never heard before.

There were sounds you had heard them in the neighboring sleeping quarters where you lived before he brought you to the domus.

Soon, his fingertips grazed between the two of you. A sharp pleasure ripped through you.

“Your bud is as delicate as the flowers you love.” His voice was raspy. You were lost in your sensation to barely realize what he said. All you knew was he spoke.

It cleared your thoughts all you could do was make your own incoherent sounds you grasped onto him. You felt like you could shatter yet you entire body tightened.

“Oh Geta.” You whimpered under him. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t, my blossom.” His voice was strained.

A moan was ripped from you as his fingers grazed once again between the two of you.

You bucked and felt as everything with your erupted, it felt absolutely amazing. Once you could see beyond the bursts of stars in your eyes you were melting under Geta.

He arched against you a final time and soon, uttered his own very deep moan. Be he came to rest his forehead against your shoulder. His breath was hot he panted before he moved and was laying on his back beside you.

You honestly do not know what came over you, perhaps it was the goddess Venus herself that truly liked the union of you and Geta. But in glow of the pleasure that had filled you; turning you looked at Geta.

His lashed laid softly on his cheeks as he breathing began to steady.

“Will be do this again?”

He smiled, though his eyes didn’t open. “Yes. Though that was enough for one night. Like wine, I do not want to grow terribly addicted to you. Not good for an emperor or you.”

“Oh.” His words fell over you like a shadow. You could tell how it made you feel but the glow began to shrink in its size.

His finally opened and he looked at you. “Also, so that words don’t fly faster then then already do at the senate or the forum, you must go back to your chambers but I will see you for our morning meal.”

“Yes.”

You knew enough to get up then and easily wrapped the elegant fabrics around you. He rolled away as you glanced over. It made a pang go through you.

*******

Once in your room, you paused after closing the door. You felt suddenly very hollow, as if his ownership finally was realized. You hugged yourself tightly.

After sometime, not knowing truly how long you stood and were going to prepare for sleep which is beckoning. When you realized, the golden clasp was not in your possession. His words echoed in your mind, they had given you a chill. Yet, you didn’t want yourself to be the cause of those loose words. So carefully you crept once more past his sleeping guards, something you would tell him about over perhaps some more full, very crisp and pleasant grapes.

You opened the heavy door and in the few candles that remained flickering in his chambers, you made your way to the alcove where his bed was.

A scream came from you that you had never known to be in your possession. It came from somewhere deep inside of you. There beside his bed was a man holding a very large dagger, he looked like he was prepared to strike.

Geta awoke, the man brought down the dagger. Moving just so it only managed to slice at his upper arm instead of his heart; where he had appeared to be aiming for. The sight of crimson was stark to the rest of the night. Everything became fuzzy, your knees began to buckle before all became black.

@honey-eyed-munson @amethyst-serenade @screaming-blue-bagel @missonlypost @kitkat80 @blondie324 @alyisdead @hellomadamebutterfly @heartsforjosephquinn

[galedekarios]

Hello, big fan of your Gale content um I just saw this post on X that really annoyed me that was a graphic saying Gale would use 3 in 1 shampoo implying he is lazy with his hygiene and that another character was more like that and it had like 6k likes and I just wonder why everyone mischaracterizes our best wizard so much? Generic male expectations? Justice for Gale. He deserved that lavender bath.

thank you for your message and kind words! 🖤

i haven't seen the post you're referring to so i can't say too much about it, but if we talk about the general concept of hygiene and personal care, in my heart i know the following truth:

gale loves his little indulgences and that includes the finer things in life, like taking long baths, perfumes, massages, and the like.

once he feels better again and has the spoons to fully appreciate it, he would have a ridiculously elaborate 13 step self-care routine, beard oils and all of that.

(we know his year of isolation likely led to him neglecting himself, given tara's repeated lines about not eating enough, as well as gale letting his beard growing out.)

in early access, he had this dialogue with the protag, about dreaming of a nice lavender scented bath:

Gale: Time is a precious gift. With time, we may even reach Baldur's Gate, a city rife with magic, wizards, scholars, and perhaps: solutions.  Player: In that case I share your optimism. Here's to the journey ahead.  Gale: And here's to your company.  Gale: Oh, I can picture it now: academies, libraries, laboratories – the assembled knowledge of centuries that may just set us free. Better yet: soft beds, home cooked meals, and all the other little luxuries this wilderness so brashly denies us. Gods, I'd pay a king's ransom for a hot, lavender-scented bath – minstrels serenading as I close my eyes and let the water's warmth dissolve all woes. Plenty to look forward to.

this was sadly cut.

i also seem to recall another line of dialogue in early access where a companion commented on gale using a waterdhavian scent/perfume, which had woody undertones. if i can find it, i'll be sure to post about it.

but still, he still has similar lines in the full release version, like in this banter with shadowheart:

Gale: I must tell you, Shadowheart, the bathing waters here leave much to be desired. devnote: A bit know it all Gale: The ablutions offered at the Temple of Beauty in Waterdeep are far superior. And they have the most excellent soaps. devnote: A bit know it all Shadowheart: Hmm. I was wondering why you always smelled like a wealthy dowager. devnote: Teasing

bathing waters, excellent soaps and ablutions at the temple of beauty in waterdeep. the temple of beauty is a temple to the goddess sune, the goddess of beauty and passion.

"Her temples usually held social salons and displayed mirrors for use by lay parishioners. Some of them even had public baths for the local populace. Her shrines often stood on the corner of busy city streets. They would have a small ornate overhanging roof with a mirror underneath. They were used to check one's appearance while honoring Sune with prayer. Some shrines even held perfume and cosmetic items for those who could not afford such luxuries themselves." [x]

volo's waterdeep enchiridion says this in particular about the temple of beauty in waterdeep:

"If you need to refresh yourself during your travels, or perhaps to primp before an important meeting or a night out, visit Sune’s faithful at the Temple of Beauty. Its marbled public baths and mirrored salons are open from before dawn to after dusk. There’s no fee for these services, or for the advice and aid of the temple’s many pleasant attendants, but donations are encouraged."

there are some other banters & lines of dialogue in the same vein:

Player: I want to be with Gale. I'm sorry. Shadowheart: Don't be. He's charming enough, well-read and well-groomed.

there are more banters and comments like this from other companions as well (including minthara, for example), so yes, i think it's safe to say that gale is not a 3-in-1 shampoo type.

[theredneckerchief]

In which Melrin and the Knights are sitting around the campfire and Sir Percival is in charge of the story telling...

Percival: They call him...Emrys

Lancelot: *glances at Merlin*

Merin: *chokes on his soup*

Arthur: It's alright Merlin no need to be scared, Emrys doesn't actually exist

Percival: The Druids say, he was born from mortals in the time of the great purge, from a dragonlord who saught shelter and from a woman with a heart of gold. A child born from a love that could never be. The tripple goddess took pity on her peoples and gathered the lost magic of the dead felled by the Butcher King -sorry Arthur.

Arthur: *waves his hand for him to continue*

Merlin: *trying to catch Lancelot's eye and get him to change topics*

Lancelot: *looks at Merlin and nods* What happened next Perc?

Merlin: *mouths* traitor

Percival: Well, the babe was born with the lost magic of Albion coursing through his veins. A God in his own right. He can level any kingdom with a thought, create or destroy armies with the snap of his fingers.

Arthur: See Merlin? If he existed, I doubt "The Butcher King's" kingdom would still exist. *satisfied smirk at Merlin's pale face*

Percival: Ah you see Emrys was not born without purpose Arthur. He is the guardian of the Once and Future King. A King destined to usher a golden age of prosperity and unite the land of Albion under a banner of peace.

Gwaine: Sooo how would we know who this Emrys is? What if Arthur is that King?

Arthur: Whilst I appreciate the praise Gwaine, it's a children's story meant to scare people like Merlin. It can't possibly be true.

Percival: Well there is a way to test it... it is said that Emrys will respond to any prayer spoken sincerely by the Once and Future King.

Gwaine: Go on Arthur, try it *winks*

Merlin: I really don't think this is a good idea.

Leon: I agree with Merlin here, summoning a dangerous sorcerer is a bad idea...

Gwaine: We're not summoning him, just pray for something harmless, he can't refuse it right? So why not try? Or are you worried you're not this great King? *wiggles eyebrows*

Arthur: *growls* Fine. *closes eyes* As I sit here now I pray to Emrys to...uh...give Gwaine an apple.

Merlin: *Magics an apple infront of gwaine*

Arthur: *opens eyes* What? Why's everyone looking at me like that? *sees apple*...oh

Leon: Merlin...?

Merlin: *high pitched squeek* yeh?

Percival: I saw it too.

Gwaine: And me.

Arthur: What? What is it? I command you as the King of Camelot to tell me what the bloody hell is going on.

Leon: It's Merlin sire. His eyes... They blazed gold at your prayer...

Arthur: *laughing hysterically* Good one Leon.

*silence*

Arthur: You're serious? Yo- you mean Mer- *turns to Merlin, eyes fixed on his* As I sit here today, I pray to Emrys to sharpen my sword.

Merlin: *Eyes blaze gold*

*Arthur's sword unsheathes itself and starts sharpening itself mid-air*

Merlin: Um...tada? *jazz hands*

Elyan: *comes back from gathering firewood* So what was Percy's story about today?

(Inspired by this tumblr post:

)

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hi! I love your work as always!

Can I request Reader, being from the village and being devout to Mother Miranda all their life, hasn’t forgotten their devotion to her and still prays every night. Normally this wouldn’t bother Donna.. but she starts to get jealous. Every prayer reader makes Donna imagines possesive and dark thoughts about Reader praying to her instead. One night during a particularly lengthy prayer, Donna snaps and let’s her dark thoughts consume her by making Reader not only pray to her, but make her worship her. Smut please G!P Donna if you want! Thank you for all you do 🖤

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your support and for your request!!!!Thank you for reading me!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Pray

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, dark themes, dark Donna, Donna's POV

Word count: 8,550

Summary: I'm the one who can be your Goddess...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

I never asked for mercy, I never demanded a place in this world full of shadows, but still, I got it. I can't complain about obtaining eternal life. I don't even have the right to protest about the horror that the gift of the Gods did to the scar on my face, about how they had fun transforming my body. A life of eternal youth, of power, of having the ability to influence others, to scare them, to make them fear me...

After that second chance, I thought that loneliness was over, but it was just an illusion, a passing thought that never came true. Over time I realized that maybe that was my fate; that I, Donna Beneviento, was born to be a Lord and not a normal, ordinary woman.

My madness existed long before the Cadou, and it continued to exist after. If I was a hermit before, I was a monster now. I didn't really care too much if those poor villagers thought that way, they could call me whatever they wanted.

With a snap of my fingers I could make them suffer, punish them even if I had no reason to do so. Yes, it was funny to play with the lives of those perfect fools, but even that small thrill of creating nightmares in their minds stopped being funny.

Loneliness consumed me little by little without me being aware of it. Thanks to Angie, I was able to bear this new life better, but that had one big difference: I couldn't escape from this life.

Years passed and nothing changed. I began to understand what it meant to be someone like me, to be feared. I never sought out contact with other people. I never wanted to end that loneliness, until I met you.

If I had acted the same way as always, that is, making a stupid excuse not to attend Mother Miranda's sermon… Well, I probably wouldn't have met you.

You were a strange, but beautiful girl. That was the first thing I thought. My black veil protected me from the horrified gazes of those stupid villagers, but it also protected you from seeing me looking at you.

A young girl who wasn't afraid to kneel before the Black Gods, a beautiful growing woman who clasped her hands to pray for her salvation. It was impossible for such a sight not to catch my attention. After all, any kind of contact was new to me, any strange feeling I had when looking at you was a new discovery.

It wasn't love at first. I could say it was more like... Fixation.

My siblings were always clear about their position in the village. They always knew they could do whatever they wanted with those poor souls. Sometimes I wondered what would have happened if I had given in to my instincts, if my approach hadn't been silent.

You would only be one more victim, I would have terrified you. I would have never given you the chance to try to get to know me.

I would have had you, I would have taken you as I imagined so many times in my lonely nights, I would have enjoyed your body but… I would have lost you.

I would have lost that warmth your smile transmitted, the touch of those soft hands, that tender look… I couldn't say if it would have been worth possessing you, claiming you as mine as soon as I met you.

But the good side of my conscience, the side that had not yet been conquered by the demons of my madness was the one that guided me, the one that forced me to repress my primary desires, the one that showed me the right way to have you and never lose you.

Love was always a mystery to me. I couldn't understand what made people feel weak in contact with others. Yes, I had read a lot of novels that talked about it, I knew it existed, but I needed to see it to believe.

Your smile never faded, not even the day I looked for you in the church, when I heard your beautiful voice for the first time. Your voice sounded sweet, much better than any nightmare scream, than any call for help.

After meeting you, I realized how wrong I was about my impure thoughts. Love existed, it lived in you.

Neither my face nor my body stopped you from looking at me that way, one that drove me even crazier, that made me feel like I could fly, that my loneliness had an expiration date.

It was hard for me to understand what an angel like you could have seen in a demon like me, but… Yes, love could do those things. Admitting that I loved before kissing you was difficult for me.

My sister said that love was weakness; that any desire I had shouldn’t interfere with absurd feelings. I didn't listen to her.

It didn't take long for you to live with me, to give in to my pleas. You were so sweet, so tender, so… You.

Then I understood what my sister didn't understand, the difference between loving and satisfying, between asking and taking. Did she ever feel that way about one of her maids? Well, I can't deny it outright, but I'm convinced that she didn't.

Asking you for a kiss was much better than stealing it from you. Caressing your hands was much better than tying them behind your back. They were free to touch me, to slide over my skin in the same way, it was an incredibly pleasurable sensation.

Taking your innocence was much better than stealing it from you, making love to you was much better than raping you, than letting the darkness inside me claim your body.

Enjoying the dance of our bodies, that unmatched feeling of being inside you and looking into your eyes, watching the sparkle in your gaze as you burned with pleasure couldn’t compare to hearing you scream, beg, fight against my attacks.

For once in my sad life, I think I did the right thing, and I don't regret it, nor will I ever regret it.

“(Y/N)?” I asked walking towards the kitchen, where your sweet humming echoed in the walls, like a voice that guided me to you, as an indication that it was not a dream, that love had come into my life, and would never leave, would never dare to do so.

(Y/N), if you ever dared to even think about leaving me... I would lose my mind, I would hurt you...

“Donna…” you said laughing, protesting the kisses that attacked your neck, the effusiveness that my body had every time I saw you in the morning. “Hey, I'm making breakfast.”

I laughed the same way, pushing the hair from your neck and kissing it before leaning on the counter, hypnotized by your beauty, by your way of being.

Sometimes I wonder what you could see in a monster like me…

“Did you sleep well, tesoro?” I asked innocently, without being able to take my horrendous eye off your figure, off that elegance you had, which made no sense in a simple villager like you.

Could love turn a commoner into a princess?

“Oh, yes,” you answered with a soft voice, focused on that magnificent breakfast. “Thanks to the Black Gods and Mother Miranda.”

“Ahem,” I cleared my throat in a playful way, looking away, pretending to be offended.

“Oh, and to you, darling, of course,” you said, running a hand through mine as an apology. “How about you?”

“I’m fine,” I said dryly, looking away.

Nothing you had said could make me angry or cool down the desire I had every morning to love you, but there was something, something that sounded in my head like a tedious loop, and that had been doing so for a long time.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding with a smile. “Oh, could you go up and set the table?”

“Sure,” I said, kissing your cheek quickly, coming out of that strange moment, one that was becoming more and more evident.

“You are an angel, did you know that?” you said before I disappeared through the door, forcing me to stop with an involuntary smile as I shook my head.

“That's not true,” I said, trying not to let the darkness take over my words, not to let the demons out of the cage I made for them. “But, thank you…”

I went up in the elevator like every morning, reflecting on how my life had changed. My hands trembled involuntarily when my mind took charge of worrying me, of taking me out of that paradise to take me back to hell.

My life with you was perfect but… Did perfection really last forever? That was, of course, my greatest fear.

Happiness was fleeting, or so they used to say. I try to keep those thoughts away, but sometimes it's complicated.

I know what I am like, I know I am… Possessive, jealous, I don't allow you certain things that should be normal, but I can't help it. Losing you after having raped you would have been horrible but… Losing you when I already know the love you can give me, when I know how your kisses, your caresses feel…

Hell could not compare to that. I would surely hurt you, make you suffer, but you wouldn’t feel the damage, it would be torture for me.

“Hey, you, buongiorno!”  a shrill voice managed to wake me from those horrible thoughts, from those imaginary scenarios in which your smile no longer adorned your face and you begged for compassion.

Luckily, Angie had always been with me. She was conscience that was part of me and at the same time was so different… I wonder if the doll my father gave me stole that part of my personality that never dared to come to light.

“You?” I said with a smile, picking up the doll from the floor and putting her disastrous clothes on, something that always comforted me. “Buongiorno, Angie.”

“Where's the fool?” the doll asked, peeking over my shoulder, looking at the elevator hallway.

“Don't call her that, you know I hate it,” I protested, frowning and leaving the puppet back on the floor.

“Fool, fool, fool,” she repeated mockingly, making me roll my eye as I walked to the cupboard. “Can't I say she's a fool?”

“(Y/N) isn't a fool, stop making fun of her,” I said in a somber tone.

No one could ever insult you, no one.

“Hey, hey, hey, Donna, Donna,” Angie said, tugging on my dress impatiently. I snorted, but stopped setting the table to look at her. “Do you know what that silly… I mean, (Y/N) made me do yesterday?”

“Angie, per favore…” I sighed again, with a serious look, pushing the puppet away from my clothes. “Leave me alone.”

“That silly girl made me pray, can you believe it?” Angie said climbing onto the table to get my attention even more, something she was mysteriously an expert at.

“Pray? You?” I asked curiously, with a mocking smile.

“Yes, me, that silly girl said I had to show more respect for Mother Miranda,” the puppet explained and I frowned again.

“You have no respect for anyone,” I whispered, meticulously placing all the plates and cutlery, not paying attention to the doll’s complaints. “Just do what she tells you.”

“Ohh, I see…” Angie murmured, shaking her head, crossing her arms. “So you defend her, huh?”

“Of course I defend her,” I said seriously, straightening the tablecloth. A perfect table for a perfect girl… as expected. “You know how devoted she is.”

“You only defend her because you play baby-making with her,” she protested unpleasantly, making me look up and growl.

“Basta, Angie,” I said in a stern tone. “I don't know where you learned all that rudeness.”

“From here, silly Donna,” the doll said, hitting my head, making me protest again.

“Ugh…” I complained about the blows. “Stay still, will you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Angie mocked. “It must be very hard for you to be the second, right?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked confused.

It shouldn't be difficult for me to know how to interpret the doll's words, but she knew very well how to confuse me.

“This morning she rejected you again,” Angie said, getting down from the table. “I know.”

“What? Well, she didn't exactly reject me,” I said, remembering that moment when I woke up and my body was begging to be released by your caresses, by yours… “She just doesn't like me to interrupt her while she prays.”

“Of course, of course…” the doll mocked me again, making me snort tired of her attitude. “Oh, Mother Miranda, yes, Mother Miranda… I prefer to pray to you than to let Donna stick her…”

“Taci!” I shouted furiously, clenching my fists on both sides of my hips, breathing heavily. “Stop saying stupid and rude things.”

“Sorry, Your Majesty,” she said with an ironic tone, pretending to bow. “Admit it.”

“What?” I asked, shaking my head and waiting impatiently for you to come up, to free me from the accusations of the doll.

“It bothers you,” Angie said with a proud tone. “That the fool ignores you because she spends most of her time praying to Miranda bothers you.

“It doesn't bother me,” I said, sure of my words. “She is free to pray as much as she wants.”

“Honestly, it would bother me,” the doll commented, with a calmer tone.

It wasn't possible, it was simply not possible for my doll to be able to navigate each of my thoughts.

“I'm not you,” I hissed crossing my arms in a cocky manner. “(Y/N) is the love of my life and I don't care about her devotion to Miranda, it's a good thing, in fact.”

“She would have to be devoted to you and not to Miranda,” Angie explained.

“You know perfectly well that it has nothing to do with me,” I said in a dark tone.

I don't know at what point I insisted on arguing with the doll. You loved me, only me.

“It has nothing to do with you? Are you completely sure about that, Donna?” the puppet asked, before the elevator rang, indicating that you were finally at my side.

I remained thoughtful, searching for a silent answer to that question. No, it didn't bother me, that devotion of yours, that fervent adoration you felt for Miranda was never a problem for me but, as I sat in front of you, helping you serve breakfast, Angie's words traveled through my head.

Are you completely sure about that, Donna?

“I was starting to think you weren't coming,” I said with a fake smile, kindly serving you a cup of that perfect coffee you made. Everything you made was perfect, everything.

“Well, I'd like to say that I stopped getting lost in the basement but I'd be…” you said in a sweet voice, with a slight blush on your cheeks.

“Lying,” I finished your sentence in a dry way.

Sometimes my voice doesn't match my intentions but, of course, you already knew that.

“Hey, Donna!” you said abruptly, giving my hand a soft slap when I reached out to grab one of your perfect pieces of toast.

I opened my eye wide and pulled my hand back, rubbing the place where you hit it with a sad look.

“We should pray first,” you said as you lowered your head, joining your hands together. I looked at you with a frown and then turned my eye to Angie, who was laughing, probably at me. “Come on, sweetheart.”

I sighed, blinking and shaking my head and clasped my hands together as you closed your eyes.

“Great ones, hear our voice, together as one in reverence,” you began with a pleasant whisper, but for some reason, it didn’t feel that way to me this time. “We on thee you within the endless dark, to deliver us into fate’s hands… Donna…”

I blinked, sighing. Of course, you noticed that I hadn’t prayed with you in a while.

Why would I want to pray, (Y/N)? I was a damn Lord.

“Yes…” I sighed with a groan. “Um… Um…

“As the midnight…” you said to help me continue with what I refused to do. Normally it wasn't a problem for me, in fact, I had been hearing that prayer for many years, too many. I just didn't want to do it that day.

"As the midnight moon rises on black wings, so we make our sacrifice,” we said at the same time, “and we wait for the light at the end. In life, and in death, we give glory, Mother Miranda…”

“That's it, you can eat,” you said with a smile once you let your hands go. I looked at you intensely and confusedly.

Are you completely sure about that, Donna?

“Va bene…” I sighed, picking up the toast again, buttering it while I struggled with my own conscience.

No, there was nothing wrong with your fervent devotion. You were a good faithful to Mother Miranda, and that had to be good for both of us, right? Right?

The sound of cutlery was the only thing that could be heard in the quiet morning. A pleasant sound, proof that you were by my side, that your smile was there for me to look up and contemplate it as many times as I wanted. Angie only said nonsense.

“You look beautiful this morning, tesoro,” I commented, daring to break the silence with a compliment, one that caused your body to move nervously, pleased by my words.

You bit your lip without answering, lowering your head to avoid me noticing your embarrassment.

“Donna…” you sighed romantically. “You are very flattering today.”

“Just today?” I asked amused, trying to seduce you with my gaze, something simple, but that somehow seemed more complicated to me. “(Y/N), I, I would like… I would like to change the portrait on the stairs.”

“The portrait?” you asked curiously, blowing on the hot coffee. “Why? It's beautiful, Donna…”

“Well, that's your opinion,” I said somewhat nervously, shaking my head. “You know it's not loyal to reality.”

“Mm, it's true,” you said nodding, resting your head on one of your hands and blinking childishly. “Reality is much better.”

“You’re very flattering too,” I whispered tenderly, playing with the hand you had absentmindedly left on the table, a serious mistake. Mine would always look for it.

“The Gods have granted me a good mood today,” you said with a confident tone that made me suddenly withdraw my hand, forcing my brow to frown again.

Are you completely sure about that, Donna?

“C-Certo,” I stammered, playing with the toast, hardening my gaze, looking away from yours. “I, what I wanted to tell you is that… Well, now that you're with me, I'd like to change the portrait for, for one of us, you know, of the two of us.”

“Really?” you asked with shining eyes, ones that I couldn't resist, that I couldn't help but look at again. “I think it's a great idea, Donna.”

“I thought so,” I whispered, taking your hand again. “I'll talk to Alcina and…”

“Wait, well, it's a good idea but…” you interrupted with a thoughtful smile.

“But?” I asked nervously. “What's wrong, tesoro?”

“Now that you mention the portraits…” you murmured looking erratically around you. “…I've realized that this house is missing something.”

“What's missing?” I asked curiously, looking at the same places as her.

“I can't believe it, Donna,” you said with a stern but at the same time amused voice. “Isn't there a single portrait of Mother Miranda?”

“A portrait of Mother Miranda?” I asked, moving my hand away again, letting the romanticism of that perfect breakfast be distorted by your words.

I couldn't, I shouldn't be annoyed, but I was.

“Yes,” you said, nodding, with an innocent tone and a smile that, of course, wasn't for me. “Well, I know that you're like her daughter and that you're a Lord… But, Donna, that doesn't exempt you from your obligations.”

“Obligations,” I murmured confused, with my heart beating fast, furious for no apparent reason.

“Yes, my love… Mother Miranda loves and protects us and the least we can do is bless our home with her presence.”

I laughed nervously, I didn't know if it was because of how ridiculous that sounded, or because Angie's words made more and more sense.

“I don't see the joke, Donna,” you said with a serious tone, relaxing your smile and crossing your arms

“I'm not laughing…” I said swallowing a growl and shaking my head. “Tesoro, that's not necessary. Mother Miranda is always with all of us, besides, I'm the one who takes care of you and protects you,” I hissed with a voice that was perhaps too dark, perhaps taken out of context, out of place.

For some reason, saying that made me feel good…

“Why can you take care of me and protect me?” you asked with a certain irony, with a tone that made me clench my fists unconsciously.

“Because I love you?” I said, with that same tone, one lacking the love and romanticism with which I always communicated with you.

“No, darling, because Mother Miranda adopted you as her daughter, took pity on you and saved you from your misery. I can't believe you're that ungrateful,” you said with a serious voice, with that smile off your face.

I could think you were joking, exaggerating, but the lack of sparkle in your eyes confirmed my suspicions. Damn, (Y/N) you were completely serious.

“Ungrateful? Me?”  I asked, getting up from the chair and pointing at myself. “I'm a Lord, (Y/N).”

“Mm yes, so that gives you the right to be more important than Mother Miranda?” you answered quickly.

 You weren't stupid, that's why I fell in love with you, although I never thought it would turn against me.

“No… Yes… Well, I don't know, (Y/N), I should be more important than Miranda, at least for you,” I said angrily, fixing my furious eye on yours.

Again, you didn't even flinch.

“Mother Miranda,” you corrected smugly. “Come on, Donna, don't tell me you're jealous of her…”

“Jealous? No, of course I’m not,” I said suddenly, defending myself as best I could.

“You're very nervous, honey. Sit down and relax…” you whispered with a voice that pretended to be calm, with the same voice you put when I lost my mind, when I suffered my terrible crises.

That wasn't one of them. My anger wasn't irrational, it made sense.

“Y-You make me nervous, (Y/N),” I protested, shaking my head. “I understand you are devout and, well, I don't care, but you have to be clear about one thing, tesoro... Mother Miranda isn't here, but I am, do you understand?”

“You are selfish,” you hissed, looking away, something that made me blink in confusion. “Can't there be anyone else in my life but you?”

“Am I selfish for wanting my girl to pay some attention to me?” I asked, gritting my teeth.

“I pay you attention, Donna, all you want,” you said, drinking your coffee calmly. “But the Gods don't tolerate blasphemy and I remain faithful to them, as well as to Mother Miranda.”

“Yes, but...” I said confused, starting to lose that argument.

“No, Donna, respect my beliefs, okay?” you demanded with a cold look.

I growled, crossing my arms and shaking my head.

“I'm sorry,” I said after a few minutes of tense silence. “I didn't mean to offend your beliefs, (Y/N).”

“That's much better, darling… Come here, come,” you said with a tender smile, indicating me to come closer and softly kissing my lips. “You know I love you, right?”

Do you love her too? That's what I would have liked to say, but I didn't want to.

“I love you too,” I whispered back, caressing her cheek, a gesture that made you blush again. “Fine, I'll look for a portrait of Mir… Of Mother Miranda…”

“Great, great,” you said excitedly jumping for joy and kissing me again. “Thank you, my love… I'm going to pick this up.”

A nasty laugh reached my ears as you disappeared down the elevator hallway.

“Silly Donna,” Angie mocked, pretending to writhe in laughter on the floor.

“That was your fault,” I hissed, kicking the floor furiously, a fury I couldn’t use against you, I never could.

“Mine? Liar,” the doll protested.

“Ugh,” I growled, with a furious look. “You made me think such horrible things, Angie.”

“Horrible things? Oh, right, you mean that the silly girl prefers Miranda over you…” she said in a sinister tone I tried to ignore.

“That’s not true,” I said to myself, running a hand over my forehead. I needed to relax.

“No? Tell me, Donna, where are you going to put Miranda's portrait, on the bedside table? Yes, yes, that's the best place,” the doll mocked, straining my patience even more. “I'm sure (Y/N) will let you fuck her while she looks at her in admiration…”

“Angie!” I screamed furiously, scaring the doll, who ran away laughing. “Ugh, cazzo… vaffanculo!” I shouted, walking towards the elevator, heading to forget that horrible morning with my dolls, the best I could do.

“Who's the rude one now?”

I never really saw your devotion as something wrong. I met you in church. I knew how faithful you were to Mother Miranda and the Gods.

That was part of your personality. That blind and obsessive faith was part of you, it was something I couldn't take away from you and, honestly, I never saw the need to do so. Every night we spent together, you prayed, you prayed before sleeping, before eating, before… Well, before doing anything.

I even thought it was adorable. After all, Mother Miranda created me.

Every night I saw your devotion expressed in your words, gratitude for being with me, and that relieved me. It could just be a phase, a habit you had when you lived in the village, but over time I realized that it wasn’t like that.

Being faithful to Miranda was fine, it saved me trouble. It saved me from having to protect you more than necessary. You were the perfect villager to the priestess, a brainless zombie who would never question her decisions, or mine.

Again, my older sister's words stirred my conscience. Alcina was probably the most faithful to Miranda, too faithful. I always thought there was something more behind that servitude, something that perhaps resembled what I felt for you.

But that wasn’t important. Alcina's and Moreau's devotion to Miranda was almost as sick as yours, but with one big difference.

I have always wondered what was in the heads of the castle's maids, if any of them had such devotion to the leader of the village.

For me it was impossible to know. I never spoke to them and I rejected Alcina's offer to use them many times.

In their eyes, in their helpful glances, I always saw the devotion that was somewhat similar to yours, but at the same time quite different. They didn’t pray to Mother Miranda, their Gods were not the Black Gods. Their only deity, the only thing those girls cared about was Alcina.

They lived for her, they would give their lives for her, they worshipped her. I would even dare  to say they prayed to her. What I had previously seen as a horrible and disturbing thought began to sound better and better in my head.

For the maids Alcina was their Goddess, for you, your only Goddess was Mother Miranda.

Envy began to make me dizzy. It's not that I wanted to be like my sister, I could never be like her but... While I tried to distract myself with my dolls, the images passed over and over again in my mind.

“Damn it...” I muttered, dressing an inert porcelain body.

I began to imagine what it would be like if you were my faithful devotee, the things you would say to me, do to me, how you would behave if I were something more like Miranda to you. At first they were innocent images, but the darkness of my conscience made me turn away from those simple thoughts in which you only changed by ceasing to pray every night, every hour.

No, that wasn’t enough to calm my soul. Alcina wasn’t a boring woman, she played with her faithful servants; they worshipped her in a carnal way. They knelt before her, just as you did with Miranda.

I imagined you doing the same, worshipping me, praying to me, making me feel like your Goddess, forcing you to kneel before me, to dispose of your body when I, your Goddess, wanted it, in the way I wanted. Dark thoughts, yes, but they sent shivers through my body.

Claiming my superiority over the village vermin wasn’t difficult for me, but… Trying to make you look at me the way you did with Miranda… That would be more complicated.

Lust interrupted my fears, sending me images of you kneeling, caressing me with a smile while your tongue acted divinely, worshipping my body, wanting it inside yours.

Pulling your hair, forcing you to kiss my penis, to worship it as part of my divinity… It deviated from my true concerns, causing my body to act accordingly.

“Oh…” I sighed as the heat began to overwhelm me, as my hand gently passed over my sudden erection, forming a bulge in the black fabric of my dress.

I needed to take you, and I needed it right then.

“Angie,” I whispered to the doll, who was playing distractedly, fortunately oblivious to the excitement of my body. “G-Go call (Y/N), will you?”

“What for?” the puppet questioned.

“Just do it,” I said in a soft tone, stimulating my body discreetly, enjoying the touch of my own hands motivated by my dark thoughts.

“Oh, again…” the doll sighed, stopping just before leaving through the doors. “Wait, (Y/N) isn't here…”

“What? She's not here? Where is she?” I asked nervously.

“Look at the clock, silly Donna, (Y/N) has gone to mass,” Angie said, making me look at the same place, closing my eye when I realized she was right.

Again, Miranda stood between you and me, preventing me from taking you as I would like. My thoughts were becoming more and more dangerous.

“Okay, okay, go away, Angie,” I said, waving my hand for her to leave.

“But…”

“Go away…” I hissed, making the doll shrug and leave the workshop grumbling.

Loneliness wasn't so bad after all. My imagination was playing tricks on me, my body was screaming to be released, but not in the usual way. Lust was asking me to dominate you, it was asking me to see you on your knees, to hear you say how much you adored me.

Surely those obscene thoughts would be part of my excitement and it would pass soon. I could think of many ways to fulfill my desire, to make you mine and only mine but… I knew that wasn't possible. I swore to myself that I would never do anything without your permission, that I wouldn't let the darkness ruin an act as beautiful as making love.

Taking advantage of the fact that you were with your Goddess, I decided to take the liberty of freely fantasizing about that idea of ​​being adored, releasing my terribly excited shaft and starting to caress it while your voice whispered things in my mind.

Mm, you are certainly a Goddess, Donna… My only Goddess… Let me worship you as you deserve…

I’m yours, only yours, let me kneel before you, let my mouth worship you, my love…

Do you like me to touch myself for you, my Goddess? Look how wet I am, do I have to pray for you to take me here and now, or do I have to confess my sins? It's so hard… You are divine, Donna…

Those fantasy voices made me want to stop, not to forget that lustful act with myself, but to enjoy it even more.

Before I met you I used to masturbate often. I didn't do it because I really felt like it. I always saw it as an inevitable need. Yes, I enjoyed releasing myself imagining brief encounters with one of the maids, even sometimes, just sometimes, I wanted to pick up the phone, call my sister, and use one of them.

But it was something temporary. My body's need was different from pleasure. No matter how hard I try, I can't remember a stimulation as pleasurable as that.

My hand moved slowly. I closed my eye to see you better, to imagine that it was your hand and not mine. Envy, jealousy... I didn't really care about the reasons for my behavior. I only cared about making it seem as real as possible.

The idea of ​​it being a wet fantasy distracted me, but the pleasure of my stimulation was much greater, making me speed up, enjoying every movement while I moaned in a whisper, saying rude things that, even if you were in front of me, you wouldn't be able to understand.

There came a moment when my own movements got out of control, when the pleasure of imagining you being my devotee devoured the calm with which I caressed myself.

“Cazzo…” I protested, shrinking into myself, quickly looking for a nearby napkin before I released. It was a too pleasurable release.

The napkin shone with my lust and I could only think of one thing… How it would look inside you…

As I cleaned myself in the sink my conscience navigated confusedly. Somehow I thought of you in a dark way, in a sudden way. That wasn't you, you weren't kneeling in front of me, you never would be.

Should I regret having transformed you into someone else while I touched myself? Could it be considered cheating? Have I done something wrong? Did you?

The logic I had left told me I should. The darkness had consumed me. The jealousy had gone too far, but… In a strange way, I couldn’t feel bad about it.

Maybe, deep down, that’s what I wanted.

Of course, I never mentioned what I did. It was just a moment of nervous lust, of possessive madness.

Our life continued as always, even little by little, I got used to the portrait of Miranda you made me look for. Every time I passed by her, I got chills, I thought about what you would do to her if she were there, what things you would be capable of doing for her, for your Goddess.

I wanted to get away from those thoughts, from those dark impulses, but I couldn't do it. Every night, as always, you continued praying, praising your deities, leaving me aside, abandoned during those minutes, those in which I believed I wasn’t the most important thing in your life.

Your prayers slipped through my ears, I stopped understanding them, hearing them. I could only hear the voices in my head. I could only imagine you in front of me, saying my name instead of Miranda's.

The tension passed through my mind, penetrating my body, my words. You knew something was wrong with me, but you didn't dare to ask.

What would you think of me if I told you that I wanted to be your Goddess?

I didn't know and it terrified me but... What really scared me was the loss of that logical thought, the constant imagination that disturbed and dirty my mind. I was scared, but of myself, because, as time went by, I began to stop wondering what you would say, what reaction you would have.

I didn't care anymore, my conscience stopped controlling my dark thoughts and that was dangerous, very dangerous...

“Mm, let's see... I also want to thank you for...” your voice sounded almost inaudible to me, like every night, you prayed tirelessly while I unbuttoned the top of my dress.

At least you no longer forced me to pray with you.

“I want to thank you for granting me the undeserved gift of being able to be with Donna,” you prayed whispering, kneeling in front of the bed.

Those words took me out of my internal struggle against darkness, forcing me to look at you with a tender smile, even though you couldn't see me.

“You saved her, Mother Miranda, making me the happiest girl in the village, allowing me to get to know her, to discover the wonderful woman she is.”

As I continued with the buttons, I laughed shyly, blushing, getting up to be a little closer, sitting next to you and lifting your chin.

“Bellisima…”  I whispered affectionately as your eyes opened, the smile had returned to your face, but, delicately, you moved my hand away from it.

“Shh, wait, Donna, I'm not done yet,” you said whispering, as if the Gods or Miranda were able to hear you

I nodded calmly, without getting up, looking at you with the devotion I wanted for myself.

Were you my Goddess?

After you flattered me in your prayers, your words deviated from that pleasant path, starting to pray for the villagers, for my siblings, for every living being that diverted your attention from me.

Normally you didn't take that long, and it started to make me nervous.

Nerves could be controlled in a normal person, but I wasn't a normal person. I was sick, my mind was damaged and there were many reasons why I couldn't control myself. Logical or illogical reasons, my mind made no distinctions.

Your words stopped relaxing me, your voice began to sound unpleasant, my fists grabbed the sheets to contain that rage, that madness with which, surely those stupid Gods, cursed me at birth.

“(Y/N),” I said in a whisper, putting a hand on your shoulder, one that you slowly removed. “Hey, tesoro…”

“Wait a minute, Donna, why are you so impatient?” you said with disgust, moving away from me.

I had been putting up with that contempt for too long.

“Shut up!” I shouted nervously, getting up from the bed with a grunt. “Stop praying!”

“What's wrong with you?” you asked, getting up from the floor and rubbing your knees. “Have you gone crazy?”

“Yes, yes, you're driving me crazy, (Y/N),” I hissed, pointing at her with my finger. “I've tried to ignore it, I really have,” I said, approaching you in a threatening, dangerous way.

“Let's see…” you sighed, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms. I hate when you do that, honey, I hate when you take me for a stupid crazy woman. I, am, your Goddess. “What's got into you now?”

“Don't treat me like a fool…” I hissed again, getting even closer, grabbing the collar of her dress roughly. “I'm not a fool…”

“You look like it, Donna, come on, be a good girl, let me go, you're going to spoil my dress,” you said, struggling with my grip.

Your scared eyes are my weakness. I couldn't help but obey you immediately.

“I'm sorry,” I murmured, smoothing your dress again, being able to regret having done it. “No, I'm not sorry.”

“What?” you asked frowning. “Donna…” you growled.

“I'm sick of putting up with this, (Y/N) of you humiliating me like that,” I said, threatening again, but keeping my hands off your clothes.

“No one is humiliating you, Donna, it's all your imagination,” you said in a slightly softer tone, bringing a trembling hand to my cheek. “Shh, darling... My love...”

“How can you say that?” I asked nervously again, pushing your hand away with a sharp blow. “Are you laughing at me? You think that by saying nice things to me you can fix everything, right?”

“I don't even know what's wrong with you,” you sighed desperately, stepping back, scared.

Gods are feared, right?

“If you like Mother Miranda that much... Go ahead, go with her, let her do all the things I do to you, I'm sure that's what you're wishing for,” I whispered, looking away, feeling a cold breeze on my body.

My blouse was unbuttoned, but what I really felt was the coldness of my heart.

“Of course…” you said with a sufficient smile, snorting with a mocking gesture. “Forget about your stupid jealousy. I've told you a thousand times that the devotion I feel for her has nothing to do with what I feel for you.”

“Devotion…” I sighed, looking at the ceiling, controlling my anger and my carnal desires as much as I could. “Devotion?! She doesn't deserve your devotion!”

“Who says that? You?” you answered, apparently calm. “I can't believe you think that way about the woman who made you the way you are now, who named you Lord, her daughter… Donna, don't you understand that I adore Mother Miranda? Don't you understand everything she's done for us? For me?”

“For you? What has Miranda done for you, huh?” I asked in a more dangerous tone, grabbing you by the shoulders with a look that wanted to be scary, but was pathetic.

I was lost.

 “I'm the only one who takes care of you! I'm the one who allows you not to work because you live with my money! I'm the one who puts a fucking plate on the table every day! I'm the only one who loves you, who treats you the way you deserve! It's me, (Y/N), do you understand? Me!”

“Donna,” you sighed, moving away from my hold with a strange, thoughtful look. “Honey, you never talk like that…”

“I'm sick of you thinking Miranda is your Goddess… Sick, do you hear me? She has no right to be idolized, to be prayed to! The only one you should be praying to is… Me!” I finally shouted, making my voice echo off the old walls, making an uncomfortable silence fall on our shoulders.

“Donna…” you murmured after a few terrible moments, guiding your hand to my cheek, wiping away a tear that came out due to my anger, due to my irrational fury. “Gods… Y-You’re right…”

“Cosa?” I asked, shaking my head. I thought my ears were betraying me, but that didn’t seem to be true. “W-What…?”

“It's true... You, you've done so many things for me...” you sighed with a relaxed smile, getting closer to me. “Forgive me, Donna, I didn't want you to think that Mother Miranda is better,”

“Um, yes... Okay,” I said confused, looking away, but enjoying your caresses.

The darkness which had me trapped wandered freely through my mind, my eye traveled over your body.

“I promise I'll pray less, okay?” you said with a sweet voice.

My gaze hardened, letting the shadows control it, controlling the hand that grabbed your hair tightly without hurting you, or so I like to think.

“Uh, hey...” you said laughing at my abrupt attitude, at the way my nails dug into your waist as I dragged you towards me.

“I don't want you to pray less, (Y/N),” I whispered, getting close to your ear, sinking my teeth into your skin, pulling your head so your neck was exposed. “I want you to pray… To me…”

“What…? What do you mean?” you asked with a broken tone, nervous because of the tickling of my lips on your skin, because of the strength of my hand tangled in your hair.

My demons sketched a smile on my face and my mind saw that forbidden, repressed dream getting closer and closer.

“On your knees,” I whispered with a cold voice, with a proud, cocky one, typical of the Goddess that I was, of the Goddess that I wanted to be for you. “Get on your knees!” I shouted when your gaze remained confused and your head moved from side to side.

You screamed, but not in an unpleasant way. I helped your body to go down to the desired place, at my feet, on your knees before me, where you had to be.

“Okay…” you sighed, arching your eyebrows, biting your lip.

Did you know what was going to happen? I doubt it.

“Worship me, (Y/N), show me your words are sincere, that I am your only Goddess,” I ordered you, pulling your head so your lips rested on my skin and began to kiss it.

You obeyed like a good girl, without complaint, panting from the impression, but comfortable with the situation. That only made me want you more.

Your kisses were soft, hot but demure, as if you were really kissing something sacred. I enjoyed the vision of having you worshiping me, of being able to feel all the things I imagined every night. It was much more incredible than I thought, much more.

“Pray,” I said softly, with a gentle tug on your hair. I wanted to feel your lips moving on my skin, I wanted to feel the vibrations of your praises on my belly, close, very close to me.

“Great ones…” you began with a nervous voice, not letting your kisses cool my desire, running your tongue over my skin.

“No, not that one, silly,” I said amused, pushing you away from my body. “I want you to pray to me, come on…”

“I don't know any prayers…” you said nervously but with an anxious gleam in your eyes, one that made my evil smile widen.

“Then use your mouth for something useful…” I whispered, bending down to kiss you briefly, to pull your lower lip with desire, but not letting you enjoy it.

Oh, (Y/N) that night wouldn't be for you. That night was only for me.

You nodded, with the look I was looking for so many times while you were praying… My hand went through the black fabric of my skirt, running over the bulge that had already formed on it, caressing it, watching your reaction, how your body trembled when you saw it.

“Do you want it, (Y/N)?” I asked, playing, grabbing my shaft over the fabric, showing you how you made me feel and how I liked being your Goddess…

You nodded again, scratching my legs, letting me see for myself how much that situation excited you.

“Beg me, (Y/N),” I hissed, bringing you closer to my hidden erection, making you feel desperate to reach it, to give me the pleasure I deserved. “Ask me to let you worship me…”

“Please, Donna…” you whispered, kissing me over the dress. Something I didn't ask you for, but I couldn't deny you. The warmth of your lips was all I needed.

“Donna? Wrong, tesoro…” I laughed amused, pulling your hair in reprimand. “I’m your Goddess, (Y/N), don't forget that…”

“M-My Goddess, please let me worship you… Let me…praise you…” you whispered, bringing your mischievous hands to the edge of my skirt.

I moaned in satisfaction, controlling my own desire. That was what I wanted. What do you think, Miranda? She'll never do that to you…

Happy to please you, I released my erection, being quickly caressed by your lips, watched by your eyes, which this time didn't seem to want to close. Your mouth approached slowly, but you knew you couldn't play with me, you shouldn't.

Your tongue ran slowly over my skin, making me moan embarrassingly and your hand joined in the fun when I was completely inside your mouth.

“Così buono…” I gasped, daring to close my eye, to control your head with my hand while your mouth embraced me intensely, while your tongue played with the tip, making my legs tremble.

I didn't want to seem weak, and I scolded you with a tug on your hair. None of that seemed to make you stop.

“You're so perfect, Donna…” you whispered, calling my attention. My hips played on their own, moving to adapt to your kisses, to your playful tongue taking me to the edge. “I've been stupid… You're my only Goddess…”

“Don't forget it, tesoro…” I said calmer, moaning when your movements continued, when your mouth embraced my erection, sucking it slowly while your hand moved it at will.

“She'll never love you like I do, do you understand?” I asked, trying to distract myself, with the darkness coming back to torment me again. “She would never let… Cazzo…”

“I know, my love… I know,” you whispered, tickling my skin, resuming your kisses, trying to keep up with the increasingly frenetic rhythm of my hips.

“Okay, that's enough,” I said suddenly, on the verge of my release.

No, (Y/N), it wasn't going to end there. Your face covered with me wasn't enough at that moment. I needed something else. I needed to possess you forever, to take you by my grace, by the glory of the one who would always be your Goddess. Me, only me.

“You are delicious…” you whispered with a wet moan. “I want to release you, my Goddess, I want to taste you.”

“You ask for too much, tesoro… I'm not a merciful Goddess…” I said amused, lifting you up roughly and pushing you against the bed.

You moaned in surprise at my roughness, but my hands kept you from turning around. You had no right to look at me. I wasn't going to let you do that.

Without waiting for a response or any protest, I lifted your dress and pulled down your underwear while spanking you, making you squirm. That was just what I had imagined.

“Che bagnata sei…” I whispered in your ear, leaning over you as my fingers ran through your wet folds. Your words could lie, but your body couldn’t. It adored me, needed me…

Without the gentleness with which I usually took you, I introduced my erection inside of you. Your walls were overwhelmed at first and your mouth emitted a moan of pain that I ignored.

“So… big…” you murmured with a moan that bathed my ears, that gave me the silent permission I needed to continue, to move without asking and for your tight entrance to hold me tightly, to worship me…

“Everything I do, I do it for you, amore mio… You, just have to… Remember… Who you belong to…” I moaned at the same time as my hips moved carelessly.

“Gods Donna, you, only to you,” you moaned when your body began to move on its own as well, joining the thrusts of my hips.

My hands scratched your skin, marking it as theirs forever. There would never be anyone else in your life, only me. You would pray to me, you would worship me, only I would exist in your life. You would be much more than my maid. You would be mine, forever.

Spilling my seed inside you was much more pleasurable than other times. It was a sign, an explosion of unmatched pleasure, an act of darkness and passion, a fierce desire to be part of you, for you to always have me.

“Oh, Donna…” you said, catching your breath, moving, making the wet mixture of your entrance slide down your legs, becoming the most beautiful vision of my life.

“I don't want to hear you pray to anyone but me, do you understand?”

[radiance1]

Ok, now hear me out here.

Giant plant lady Sam.

Now, if we go with that hc (iirc it is one) where ghosts like Undergrowth, Vortex, Nocturn etc are like gods or something.

Then we could say that Sam died, either by old age, sickness, or injuries either or, and Undergrowth decided to take her soul and turn it into something more.

As such, her soul becomes saturated with the magic of a god, such that she herself, becomes a god, well more of a lesser deity but meh.

Then he drops her off in the DC universe on a rather secluded island, giving her a few pointers to turn this entire island into her place of power and domain. There isn't a set time limit really, however long she needs to take to condense and control her powers is however long she'll take, so long as the entirely of this island becomes her domain.

Which it does, and overtime whatever people that live on the island come to regard her as a goddess and in response, start to worship her as one as well.

Why did Undergrowth drop her into DC on a secluded island? To keep her away from Danny until she properly cemented her power, of course. Can't do that if you get distracted by a figure from your past life.

Sam was just going about her (new) life, making the forest flourish, helping the crops grow in answer to her followers prayer, you know. The normal things a nature deity like herself is supposed to do.

Then one man suddenly dropped himself on her island, and she could practically feel the power coming from him, of many different gods at that, even from in her place in the center of the island.

So of course, she asked her followers to try and bring said man to her, and be careful when doing it.

When one Shazam was spending his time just flying around the world, he expected a lot of things. But one of them was not meeting a giant plant goddess lady on a secluded island.

[the-mortuary-witch]

SATANISM INFO

WHAT IS THEISTIC SATANISM?

Theistic Satanism, otherwise known as traditional Satanism, is a religion where we worship one or more supernatural beings. Our major deity, Lord Satan, is often viewed as a father/brotherly figure. Although, some theistic Satanists actually believe in a version of the Egyptian God “set”.

Regardless of which one you believe in, none of them resemble the Christian Satan (we do not worship the biblical Satan). They both share the qualities of the symbolic Satan, which are sexuality, pleasure, strength, and rebellion against Western mores. Satan as an entity can be found all throughout Paganism as several different Gods.

The same role, the same realm, etc. He also traces back all the way to the Egyptians. The term “Satan” originated in Judaism as a title for those who were opposers and accusers, many people held that role, not just one. The role can also be seen throughout different Pagan Gods as well. Many demons hold the role of a Satan, there is not just one. They are not all abrahamic and certainly are not evil.

Theistic Satanists follow a more Pagan lifestyle, as it is considered a Pagan religion. Therefore, the Satan we follow also has Pagan aspects. Not biblical whatsoever. Worshipping the biblical Satan and believing he is not evil is actually Diabolism, not Theistic Satanism.

Theistic Satanists never have and never will worship the biblical Satan.

Don’t listen to anyone who says we do and that there is “only one” Satan. They’re very uneducated.

WHAT IS ATHEISTIC SATANISM?

Atheistic Satanism, otherwise known as LaVeyan Satanism, is an atheistic branch of Satanism made in 1966, where you do not believe in a supernatural being, rather they view Satan as a symbol. There is no God nor Satan, the only “God” is the Satanist themself.

Atheistic Satanism is a religion that questions authority, stands up for the truth and fights for justice.

Atheistic Satanism also takes part in magic and rituals of self-empowerment and therapy (not everyone does, but many do). As defined by LaVey, Satanism is celebration of the self. It encourages people to seek their own truths, indulge in desire without fear of sociable taboos and perfect the self.

UNDERWORLD GODS:

• Cerberus: Hound of Hades, guarded the gates of the Underworld and prevented the escape of the shapes of the dead.

• Charon: ferryman of the dead.

• Cronus: King of the Titanes, and the hod of time.

• Erinyes: three goddesses of vengeance and retribution.

• Hades: King of the Underworld and god of the dead.

• Hecate: hoddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, moon, ghosts, and necromancy.

• Hermes: the guide of the dead who led souls down to the Underworld.

• Hypnos: god (or Daimon) of sleep.

• Moirai: three goddesses of fate.

• Nyx: the goddess of the night.

• Persephone: Queen of the Underworld and goddess and spring growth.

• Thanatos: god (or Daimon) of non-violent death.

FAQ:

HOW CAN I ASK A DEITY RESPECTFULLY THAT I WOULD LIKE TO WORK WITH THEM?

To ask a deity respectfully that you would like to work with them, you could say something like this:

"Dear (deity's name),

I have heard great things about you and feel a connection to your energy.

I am seeking guidance and knowledge, and I was wondering if you would be willing to work with me?

If you are interested, please let me know what I need to do to establish a connection with you.

Thank you for considering my request,

(Your name)."

After you have written the note, you can either keep it as a record of the prayer or dispose of it in a way that demonstrates respect and gratitude. If you decide to keep it, you can place it in a special box or file to keep as a reminder of your connection with the deity. For disposal, you could burn the note as an offering to the deity, to represent sending the message with your intention and energy. Or, you could bury the note in the ground, as a way of returning it to the earth and giving thanks for the energy and guidance you received.

IS THERE A TIME LIMIT TO LEAVING OFFERINGS OUT FOR DEITITES?

There is no specific time limit for leaving offerings out for deities. You can leave offerings for as long as you feel that they are needed or wanted, and then take them away when you feel the connection has been made or when you feel it has run its course. It's important to be respectful of the deities and to approach offerings with the intention of connecting with them rather than simply "paying tribute." As long as you're mindful and respectful of the deities and their energies, you can leave offerings for as long or as short a time as you wish.

DO I NEED TO ASK EACH DEITY IF THEY WOULD LIKE TO WORK WITH ME BEFORE PRAYING TO THEM?

It's not necessary to ask each deity if they want to work with you before praying to them. However, it can be a good idea to do so out of respect and as a way of establishing a connection with them. Each deity has their own personality and energy, and different deities may be more or less willing to work with you based on your compatibility and their own interests. By asking first, you're showing consideration and respect for the deity you're wanting to work with, and they may be more likely to respond positively to your request.

CAN I USE ONE ALTAR FOR PRAYING TO MORE THAN ONE DEITY?

Yes, you can absolutely use one altar for praying to more than one deity. Each deity has their own energy, but using one altar is a convenient way to streamline the process. By having one altar, you can create a space for all your deity work, saving time and effort on setup and cleanup. Additionally, you might find that the synergy of multiple deities on one altar provides an even greater connection between you and the deities you're working with.

CAN I PRAY TO MORE THAN ONE DEITY IN A DAY?

You can absolutely pray to more than one deity in a day. Each deity has their own energies, so it can be beneficial to invoke different deities at different times for different purposes. For example, you might pray to Lucifer in the morning to gain strength and confidence, and then pray to Lilith in the evening to gain insight and inspiration. There's no right or wrong way to work with different deities, so feel free to experiment and find what works best for you.

DO I ALWAYS NEED TO GIVE OFFERINGS TO DEITIES I WORK WITH?

No, you do not always need to give offerings to the deities you work with. It's a matter of personal preference and the individual relationship you have with the deity. Some people give offerings to establish a connection and build a relationship of respect and reciprocation. Others may have a different arrangement with deities that may not involve offerings, such as exchanging energy or favors. Ultimately, it is up to you and the deity to determine what arrangement works best for both of you.

DO I HAVE TO USE A HAND SIGN WHEN PRAYING?

Some people feel that using a hand sign or gesture when praying to a deity can help you to better connect with their energy and express your intentions. However, it's not a requirement. The important thing is to make sure that you are being sincere and genuine in your prayers. The deity you are speaking to won't require any specific gestures from you, so focus on communicating your true feelings and desires.

CAN I USE THE SAME OFFERING BOWL FOR OFFERING STUFF TO MANY DIFFERENT DEITIES?

Yes, you can absolutely use the same offering bowl to make offerings to multiple deities. This is quite common and can be a respectful way of showing gratitude to multiple deities or expressing your devotion to a variety of energies and forces.


When making offerings to multiple deities, it's important to keep in mind the differences in their energies and preferences. You should make sure to choose items that are appropriate and relatable to each of the deities you are offering to. You can experiment and see what combination of offerings seems to suit the different energies you are working with best.

WHAT DO I DO AFTER OFFERING A PHYSICAL OBJECT TO A DEITY THAT I CAN’T BURN, EAT, OR DRINK?

After offering a physical object to a deity that you can't burn, eat, or drink, you can keep the offering as a sign of devotion and appreciation. You could display the object on an altar or shrine dedicated to the deity, or place it in a special spot in your home as a reminder of your connection with them. The important thing is to show respect and gratitude for the deity's presence and influence in your life.

It's up to you whether or not you would like to cleanse the object after offering it. Some people believe that offering items to deities can create a spiritual connection or attachment between the deity and the object, and that a cleansing can help to reset the energy and clear out any negative energies that may be lingering. If you feel drawn to cleansing the object, it can be a good way to ensure that it is a pure and clean vessel for the energy of your deity.

WHAT CAN I USE TO CARVE A DEITY’S SIGIL OR RUNES INTO THEIR CANDLES?

• A sharp, pointy object such as a knife or pin.

• Sewing needle.

• Wood-burning pen or tool.

• A marker or felt tip pen.

• The edge of a metal object (e.g. a pen or paperclip).

• Paintbrush: to apply acrylic or oil paint for more elaborate designs.

• Small tool: You can also use a small chisel or carving tool to carve the shape of the sigil or rune into the candle.

WHAT CAN I USE TO CLEANSE AN OBJECT?

• Moonlight: exposure to moonlight can be a powerful way to cleanse an object of negative energy.

• Natural cleaning agents: you can use natural cleaning agents such as salt water or herbal infusions to cleanse an object.

• Smoke: burning incense or white sage is a common way to clear negative energies and cleanse objects.

• Sound: you could also use sound such as bells, chimes, or chanting to help remove any unwanted attachments to the object.

• Energy clearing: some people utilize reiki or other forms of energy clearing to remove negative energies from an object.

• Burning herbs or sage (or other cleansing materials): is a common and straightforward way to cleanse and purify an object.

• Sound cleansing: playing certain tones, mantras, or frequencies to cleanse is a simple and effective method.

• Water cleansing: spraying water or soaking an object in purified water is a simple and effective way to cleanse and purify it.

• Crystals: using crystal energy and/or placing crystals on or around an object is a unique and effective way to cleanse and purify it.

HOW CAN I TELL IF SOMETHING IS A SIGN FROM A DEITY OR IF IT’S JUST A COINCIDENCE?

• A physical sensation or feeling: when you pray or meditate and experience a physical sensation or feeling that feels distinct or out of the ordinary, it could be a sign from a deity, especially if the feeling is unexpected or unaccounted for.

• An unexpected event or occurrence: sometimes, something unexpected or out of the ordinary can be a sign from a deity.

• Change in energy or vibe: if you notice a noticeable shift in the atmosphere or energy of the space, it could be a sign from a deity, as energies can be very strongly felt and can often be very distinctive.

• Sudden synchronicity or coincidence: when you notice something that feels too uncanny or too specific to be just a coincidence, it could be sign from a deity, as they often communicate through synchronicities and meaningful coincidences.

• Unexpected thought or feeling: when you experience an unexpected thought or feeling that feels out of place or unusually strong, it could be a sign from a deity.

HOW TO RESPECTFULLY DISPOSE OF A BURNED OUT CANDLE THAT WAS USED FOR A DEITY?

When you have burned out a candle that you used for a deity, you can dispose of it in multiple ways, depending on your personal beliefs and practices. You can either bury it in the ground, recycle it and dispose of it as a normal candle, or discard it in a ritualized manner. It's important to take into account the candle's symbolism and your relationship with the deity you used it for. This will help you decide on what disposal method is right for you and your practice. Ultimately, it is up to you to decide how to dispose of the candle properly and honor the deity.

CAN I LIGHT ALL MY DEITIES CANDLES AT ONCE?

Yes, you can light all of your deities candles at once. It is appropriate to honour each deity in their own way, and lighting candles is a common way to dedicate offerings and prayers to your deities. You can either light each candle individually, with a specific prayer or dedication to each deity, or you can light all of the candles together with a single prayer or dedication for all of the deities collectively. The choice is up to you and how the candles resonate with you and the deities that you seek to connect with.

[al0v3w1tch]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ Lord Apollon… Today is Lord Apollo’s worship day and this is a basic information post about Him, I hope you enjoy this post and make sure to check out my Hades and Persephone posts! https://www.tumblr.com/al0v3w1tch/766671508589477888/%E0%BD%90-%E0%BD%8B-lord-hades-today-is-lord?source=share https://www.tumblr.com/al0v3w1tch/767560383657607168/lady-persephoneyesterday-was-lady?source=share ✷ Who is Apollon? Apollon (or Apollo)  is the Greek God of music, prophecy, healing, and archery; He is the son of Zeus and Titan Leto and the brother of the Goddess Artemis who aided Her mother in birthing Him. ✷ Mythology. When Leto was pregnant with the twins Apollon and Artemis, Hera discovered the affair between the Titan and Her husband Zeus so she forbade anyone to allow Leto to give birth on any land, fortunately, Leto found the island Ortygia to take refuge on but Hera would continue to make the childbirth a longer process when she forced the Goddess of childbirth, Eliethyia, to have Leto wait nine more days before giving birth. Artemis was born first and even helped Her mother to give birth to Her brother, Apollon who made the island come to life with flowers, plants, and music while carrying a golden sword. At only four days old, Apollon set Himself out on a quest to avenge His pregnant mother by slaying the serpent that tormented Her as She was seeking refuge. When the python was found, Apollon managed to shoot it down with His bow and quiver. However, this angered Gaea, who is the mother of serpents who ordered Zeus to send Apollon to Tartarus, Zeus, however, punished Apollon by exiling Him for nine years. After the years had passed, Apollon fixed the problem with Gaea and was gifted the Oracular Temple of Delphi. As a way to say thank you, Apollo set up the Pythian Games in Her honour. During the Trojan War, Apollon played a role in supporting the Trojans. When Achilles had murdered Apollon’s son, Troilus, on the altar of Apollon’s temple; the God set out to kill Achilles Himself and when Paris had the chance to do it, Apollon took the opportunity to use His archery skills to hit Achilles’ tendon, killing him instantly. ✷ Lovers. Apollo has had His fair share of lovers, both male and female; the most celebrated of His lovers are Daphne, Princess Koronis, huntress Kyrene, and Hyacinthus; He had many divine, semi-divine, and mortal lovers like His father, Zeus. ✷ Symbols and Offerings. Symbols: -Bow and Arrows. -The Lyre. -Ravens. -Laurel. -Wreaths. Offerings: -Sun Water. -Wine, water, milk, herbal teas, honey. -Olive Oil. -Honey Cakes. -Orange/Lemon Pastries. -Lamb/Goat Meat. -Fruits. -Cheeses. -Bread / Wheat. -Golden Objects (Gold Bowls, Gold Wine Cups, Flakes of Gold). -Bows and Arrows (fake/real / toys). -Sun Art or Imagery. -Musical Instruments. -Wolf/Dolphin Imagery. -Yellow/Gold/White Candles. ✷ Prayers. -Shining Apollo, bright-haired son of Zeus, strong of arm and flawless of form, of all the gods none are your equal in beauty or grace.

Apollo, of Leto were you born on well-favored Delos; in Athens and in Sparta and in all the lands were you honored.

To you did men and women offer prayers for health and healing in days of old; to you did the poets call for inspiration, O leader of the lovely Muses. Apollo, driver of all ill and evil from the land, in Delphi were you severed by the faithful Pythia, with whom you shared your prophecies.

Apollo, never has your glory been forgotten; throughout the centuries have artists turn to you for light and vision.

Great god, I praise you and your gifts. -Lord Apollo Far shooter, illuminator of the mind

You have sent me Sunflowers when you were seeking to help me. You have helped me so much in this year and I appreciate you so deeply for it.

My heart swells when I see one of your flowers or see your name. Your energy fills me with hope and love.

But it has not been easy.

I ask you to be gentle with me this time. I'm seeing your flowers again and I can only brace myself.

I ask you to carry me through this next stage of my growth. I ask you for strength. Life has been too hard on me, you know this. You've been there since I was a child. You and your sister. Apollo. Artemis. Names that have followed me forever.

I don't know what's coming. I don't know what's next for me. I just pray that it's not so hard. Not so painful. I know that's not entirely up to me though, and that you know what's best. I'm just scared.

Still, I thank you. I thank you for all that you have done for me and all that will come.

I thank you.

-Shining Apollo, bright-haired son of Zeus

and tender-hearted Leto who bore you on the shores

of free-floating Delos, brother of Artemis

of the silver shafts, lover of truth who knows

what will be, who grants the gift of foreknowledge

to those who seek, patron of the wise Pythia

who sits at the center of the world. Apollo,

friend of the lovely Muses, player of sweet songs

upon the lyre, healer of plagues, defender

against all evil, ever-youthful one whose hands

are deft, whose arm is strong, whose bow-string taut and thick

looses a rain of arrows, enough to dim the sun.

Fairest of gods, long of lock and smooth of cheek,laurel-crowned one, I thank you for your blessings.

✷  Blessed Be.