#yes i know incense isn't for smoking

[skele-bunny]

I am once again thinking about Phantom and him being shown more Quintessence culture by the elders...

CW - Heavy implications of abuse and slavery (but this is a fluff post! Also trauma healing for Phantom fr)

Bug has 0 fucking idea on his culture, only what he knows in his kithood and then learning from the others topside. He knows enough about their harmonies with the inner souls and connection to the astral. Phantom was taught by his captor about the importance of wind chimes and crystals, but beyond that? Nothing. No ceremonies, no basic breaking, nadda.

The Quintessence Ghouls enjoy getting together twice a month in the abbeys chapter house, and they go all out with it. It's clothing free but never sexual, just embracing their natural bodies and even their true forms. Ether ghouls even in the pits wore jewelry and body chains, they're decorative and very focused on the bodies.

Painting down multiple sigils around the room, with a giant one of protection on the floor where they meditate. Placing wind chimes near the windows and above the curtains, grounded amethyst near entrances and once again around the floor sigil. Candles lit around, incense sticks, and right in the middle being black tourmaline also in a powder form.

Phantom just sitting next to Swiss and Aether, trying to stop his laughter as they rub the tourmaline over his torso and back, then right down his forehead. He's lead by Aether on how to put it on him, whispering encouragements.

"Keep your attitude positive. When you place tourmaline on someone, your intentions matter. It's a double ended sword-- it can defend or it can put you as a target."

Since Phantom has too much trauma relating to chain bralettes and can't wear one, he's simply draped in a mesh cover, Aether weaving citrine into the cloth. He has a circlet resting against his forehead - Aether wearing a crown halo with shoulder and waist chains. Swiss only has a waist chain and garter on, but his horns are decorated with strings of chimes. Phantom is just in his unglamoured form while Aether's in his true, just fuzzy and silk at the same time. His horns are literally moving with galaxies, face still so gentle.

He's led in soft humming, then eventual prayer, how they intertwine hands and tails, moving side to side while they sit. How the sigils in the room start glowing and the room gets clouded in smoke.

He's shown to sit on his knees, hands on his lap and trying to push his essence forwards. He's... Not doing good at it. Swiss just places his hand on Phantom's back for that extra push and he's now in a projection. Sarra (1st era) is leading, calmly explaining to the group to eye their own bodies, remove their sigils of denial, cleanse themselves.

Phantom is just eyeing his body that's just covered in his Master's sigils. They're weak from the distance and how long he's been away, but it's just a sour reminder. Trying to reach out and pull it away. He's not strong with his magick so he's just left sitting there, staring at himself. He can see his physical body starting to cry, yet he isn't, but then a hand touches his shoulder in the astral. Looking over and seeing Enki (2nd era) just eyeing him.

"I could feel your distress, I'm sure the others can as well but I wanted to respond..." And now they're both looking at the sigils. "Such strong holds... Why don't we remove one together, yes? Then later, we'll stay with Sarra. He can remove a high majority of these."

Phantom just nods, and now Enki is directing him, slowly pulling at the weakest one. The mind. He's holding Phantom's hand as they start dragging the strings away, bundling it together until the very last one pulls away. Phantom pushing his hands together and smothering it, watching as it turns to stars and falls down into the void. Enki is just smiling the entire time, whispering strength into his ear while they start pulling at his hand binds.

"It always felt heavy to play or hold someone's hand... I never really understood why until now..." He's just mumbling, grabbing the strings again.

"With you being inexperienced, it's hard to understand when something is cast on you."

Stars again. Phantom just exhales, and is ready to go back in, thanking Enki with such genuine. He can see Aether and Swiss already back in their physicals, Aether holding his arm out for Phantom when he returns. For good reason, too! Phantom just completely falls forward, would've face planted if it wasn't for Aeth. He gathers himself before putting his tiny hand on Aether's giant, smiling as his hand doesn't feel heavy anymore. He takes Swiss and gives such a tight squeeze and the happiest expression.

There's mediation in between different sets, but Phantom's favorite of the entire session was the crystal exchange. Before the meeting, you were supposed to take one of the dearest crystals to you, and during the exchange you'd be led through the plane to exchange with someone who needed it most.

Phantom was led to a ghoulette he never met before, just smiling and tail wagging as he offered over his amazonite to her. She's just purring the entire time, thanking him and sharing scents before he goes back to his spot. Delta is one of three who offer theirs to Phantom. They're just purring as they hand over a tigers eye. Another ghoul he doesn't know offers a malachite, and then Sarra offers one too! It's so strange seeing this giant true form kneeling in front of this itty bitty ghoul, leaning down and speaking in ancient ghoulish that absolutely no one else knows. Sarra blessing his crystal before offering a handmade pendant of howlite.

Using his claws to carefully clip it on Phantom's wrist, moving to put his hand between his horns and continue mumbling in ancient. He's met with a tiny kiss on his forehead in the end.

After the ceremony, Enki leads Phantom to Sarra where he's now in a semi-glamour form. Aether deciding to stay just to accompany and it proves to be helpful! Settling Phantom in a pile of tourmaline as Aether, Sarra, Enki, and two others Phantom's seen in the infirmary before start slowly breaking sigils around and in him. With each sigil removed, Phantom feels lighter and lighter -- relaxed and at peace. Every now and then their hands will press against a certain spot, but Sarra has kept his hand right above his cervix the entire time.

"Whoever locked you was smart. This is my era of Magick." Sarra just mumbles, before he slowly twists his hand. "But still idiotic."

Phantom has a sudden extreme cramp before just as fast as it came, it leaves, and Sarra removes his hand. The last sigil gone. Aether is just smiling, carefully rubbing Phantom's cheek.

"How do you feel?"

He's quiet. Just slowly touching over his torso before he starts crying, being sat up and comforted. Just being sandwiched on all sides as he finally feels so... Free. There's no lingering touch, no magick restraining him. He's a bawling mess, crying his thanks over and over. Phantom is free.

[sparrowrye]

The Archivist's Oath || Chapter 10: deep down

Synopsis: Alastor attempts to convince Rosie (and himself) that he doesn't have a real connection with us. But fate likes to play

Master List

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Rosie walked through the dark bedroom to where Alastor sat on the balcony. She didn't even need to announce her presence, knowing he had sensed her as soon as she walked through the front door. She sauntered to the edge of the balcony and folded her arms over the railing, watching as the fading sunlight creeped up the ravine wall. 

The air was gentle but dry. It was the only time of the day when the temperature was pleasant. Families had their windows open to let the air flow through their stuffy homes and couples enjoyed dinner on the open platforms higher up. There were no children who ran through the streets in this dangerous district, but the young apprentices who occupied their master's home were grouping together to chat after a long day's work. 

Rosie waited awhile longer to see if Alastor would say anything. She noticed the mistblower—a type of incense container—sitting on the outdoor table. It was in the form of lantern and the fragrance smoke waved through the top. She recognized the scent as Herbal Morning, with its hints of thyme, rosemary, sage, and a shrivel of mint. It was meant to help clear one's mind.

The incense wasn't a surprise, but what shocked her was the smoke in his hand: Cloudy Twilight. It wasn't a secret that Chamomile and Lavender were the two big ingredients in it. It was heavy and often used to wind down after a long day. It clouded judgement, tired the senses, and generally made one feel like they were floating through the clouds. It made people delirious and it was often used as a way to have fun on their rest days.

Alastor had always been against it for as long as she had known him. He would never take something that would cloud his senses or impair his judgement. Then again, that was probably why he had the Herbal Morning one in a lantern; in a more larger form to balance it out.

"When was the last time you ever smoked something?" she asked over her shoulder. 

He inhaled the sweet scent and blew out the smoke before he answered her, eyes staring straight ahead. "Three years ago, I believe."

"Yes, I remember that night. You couldn't stop laughing even if your life depended on it," she mused gently. 

He quirked his eyebrows in response. After a few more moments of silence, he let out a heavy sigh. "I suppose you're here to lecture me."

She turned around to face him completely and lean against the railing. "Honey, what were you thinking? You might as well have just stabbed a knife in her heart."

"She needed to know the stakes," he said flatly. "She's been slow on purpose and I'm running out of time."

"Did you really need to burn the book?"

He turned his head away and looked at her sideways. "Yes. Her progress has increased his week."

"At what cost? She may never trust you again."

"This isn't about trust." He took another breath of the smoke.

"What's it about then? Control? You have plenty of that."

"The survival of our home." He casted a dark glare in her direction, but it did little to effect her.

"You betrayed her once then burned something she loves. You're pushing her too much. You'll—"

"And Vox is whispering in Lucifer's ear about how I'm not pushing her enough." His ears pinned backwards as he leaned forward in the chair. "Vox wants her if she can't produce enough translations."

Rosie blinked at him. "I wasn't aware." Her mind started to turn as she realized the weight of the looming threat over all their heads, especially their precious archivist. "Why didn't you just tell her that?" 

He gave her a look that said 'Really?' 

She returned it with a flat stare and sat down in the open chair beside him.

"Letting her know what my pressures are would only give her something to use as leverage. As much as she loves her books, she could burn some of them rather than be forced to translate them for me. I suspect she may try to do the same with her current work in progress."

Rosie laid a gentle hand on his arm. "But if she understood the threats that she will have to face, she may be more understanding."

He rubbed his eyes in frustration. "No. She's not ready to hear it and I'm not ready to lose that kind of control. Not when we're the closest anyone has ever been in decoding those books."

"Alastor dear," her tone was still gentle, "you're blind to the damage you're causing her and your connection with her."

"There is no connection," he glared through his fingers, then leaned his unscratched cheek on his knuckles. "Not anymore."

"Is that you talking or the Radio Demon?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm one whole being. I don't know why you—and her for that matter—insist on seeing it as two different people."

Rosie shifted in her seat so she could cross her legs and lean on the table. "Because Alastor is kind, sweet, maybe a little shy, and notices the tiny details about the people he cares about. The Radio Demon is cruel, commanding, and will stop at nothing to get what he wants."

"Those are both me," he said.

"No, they're not. I've known you for a long time and the Radio Demon didn't come out until you murdered your father."

He leaned his head back against the chair and took another smoke. "What is your point?"

"Deep down you care for this girl and I think you should show that side of you more often." She barely finished her sentence before he started laughing.

"Care?" he spat. "I may present it like I care but 'deep down' I desperately need her to translate those texts."

"How can you say that after everything that happened in that bunker?"

"There's nothing that happened. It was a product of circumstance. Two people trapped together, trying to survive. I was injured, just lost a battle to the White Angels, and we were the only two in that bunker. That's all."

"I don't believe that for a second." Her tone grew more serious. "I know it was real just from the way you talked about it when you came back. It's not just some fleeting spark or a one night stand. It was the first deep connection you made since your mother passed."

He growled after taking another breath of smoke. "No. It was nothing more than a moment of weakness. I was on the brink of death, vulnerable and alone. She happened to be there. The same thing would have happened it if was someone else." After a moment of tapping his claw on the chair, he mumbled, "I don't connect with anyone."

"I think you're not giving her enough credit, or you for that matter."

"It doesn't change the fact that if she doesn't produce results, I will be forced to hand her over to Vox. And he will break her."

"You need to be honest with her, Alastor," Rosie pressed again. "Tell her the true stakes and she may want to actually help."

"I don't know if I trust her not to use it as leverage. But what I do know is I can't trust Vox. And..." he looked away. "I'd rather be the one to break her than let him do it."

"Alastor..." Rosie gently squeezed his arm.

"I'm done with this conversation."

Rosie knew it was useless to argue further when he said that. She would have plenty of chances to badger him some more, and many more chances to encourage and subtly warn the archivist to keep translating. She just hoped nothing bad would happen in between those times.  

She quietly stood and left him alone, but not before taking the smoke from his hand and flicking it over the railing. 

~*~

A month and a half.

That was how long I had been here. And it was starting to show.

I was having trouble concentrating, I was pacing my room, I was scratching at my back, and I was accidentally snapping at poor Niffty over useless things. Every time I did, I went to find her and apologize. And each time I sat on the floor in her room as she showed and explained all the dead things she collected.

Alastor always seemed to be pissed off, so it wasn't a surprise when he snapped at me for the little things. For example, my constant tapping.

"Dear, stop tapping your foot," he said firmly. We were eating dinner and Niffty had practically inhaled her plate already. I was still picking at mine. Everything tasted so...chewy.

"Sorry," I mumbled. I hadn't even realized I had been doing it.

Not even a minute later, Alastor's fork clanked on his plate. "Now you're tapping your finger."

I gripped my sleeve to stop myself, once again failing to realize my repetitive behavior. I didn't realize I began tapping my foot on my other one, but fortunately, he didn't seem to notice that one.

What he did notice, however, were my mistakes in translations. There were several instances where I mistranslated a phrase and had to cross it out; I misspelled one too many words; some were completely ineligible as my letters blurred into one another; and sometimes I flat out forgot to translate it to Common and just wrote it in Archivist code.

Alastor scolded me for wasting paper and I promised to do better. Unfortunately, I failed to uphold that promise.

Then came the biggest problem.

My insomnia. I cried myself to sleep every night, then woke halfway through from a nightmare. I often felt too sick to fall back asleep and merely waited until I heard Alastor leave for the day.

I started forgetting things. I couldn't remember any of the information I translated nor anything Alastor told me. He claimed we had certain conversations but I couldn't even remember being in the room for it, let alone what was actually said.

I tossed and turned for another night, unable to fall asleep from the feeling that something was watching me. My back itched and my chest felt sore, so I tried to sleep on the floor like my first night and had little results.

I was reminiscing about times with my grandmother. I was deep in the memory where she was arguing with my mother over something related to me, when I realized I was breathing fast. Too fast. I rubbed my face and found my hand cover in sweat. My eyes widened in the dark. It was happening again.

I tried to push it off--tried to ignore it--and hope I could put myself to sleep before it came. But the more I tried to force myself to sleep, the more I focused on the way I couldn't breathe; the more I focused on all the fights with my mother and all the gentle, but fake, moments with Al. 

My legs were shaking as I ran a hand through my hair. I took deep breaths but they weren't deep. They came in pathetic wheezes. I tried to summon light to do the five senses trick but my magic wasn't working. It casted horrifying shadows that made my stomach drop. I needed to run. I needed to fly. I needed to do something.

I heard footsteps. There was no one. 

I heard whispers. I didn't recognize them.

I abandoned my failed light and scrambled under the desk. I curled in a tight ball and pressed my forehead to the wood. When that didn't work, I dragged my nails down my face in an effort to ground myself with the pain. I knew what this was--I had had plenty of panic attacks when I was a teenager. But now it was coming back. Why was it coming back? Why weren't my tricks working?

My teeth chattered like I was cold. I scratched at my back but it did nothing to relieve the constant itching. I wrenched my shirt off and dug my nails in harder. Still, nothing. I couldn't reach the spot very well but I tried so desperately. I reached under my arms and raked my nails repeatedly just to get the itching to stop. I was sweating all over, making my skin slick and harder to itch.

I pressed my head into the side of the desk again until it practically bruised on the spot. My footclaws were scratching the floor as I pressed my shoulder into the corner of the desk. Pain. Pain could bring me back. Pain could calm me down. Pain could put me in survival mode. It could make me think; make me strategize.

Blinding light filled the room. I covered my eyes with my hand and slammed my head into the floor. I heard footsteps come up the short stairs and begged a higher power to grant me my wings so I could hide behind them. 

The ground vibrated as the footsteps came closer. I pulled my lips back in a snarl, hand still covering my eyes. Spit drooled out of my lips as I tried to see past the bright light.

"What's wrong?" Alastor rest the lantern on the floor in the corner of my vision. 

I tried to answer, but nothing but garbled nonsense came out. My chest heaved with every breath, whimpers died inside my throat, and my nails continued to claw at my back as though tearing myself apart would set me free.

"Stop that." Alastor grabbed my hand but I snatched it away, teeth bared and spitting out a hiss. I sputtered more nonsense and kept my face shielded behind my shoulder. My claws pushed against the floor to keep away from him as much as possible. 

My neck was starting to hurt.

Then he called my name. He said it softly, sweetly, and in the most gentle way he had ever spoken to me since my arrival at the city. It made me pause, and my breathing began to slow. 

Al knelt down all the way and repositioned the lantern. "You're tearing yourself apart." He spoke tenderly, comfortingly, and it undid me completely. Tears began to fall down my face and I sucked in bubbled gasps of air. 

"I can't--I'm not...I don't..." I slammed my shoulder into the corner of the desk again, the jarring pain grounding me for a split second before the panic returned. "I can't...make it stop. I just want to go home. Make it stop!"

"You're spiraling."

"I don't care what it is!" I snapped, my body trembling from the cold. "Just make it stop!"

For a moment, he was silent, calculating like trying to figure out a puzzle piece. Then he reached forward slowly, brushing his fingers along my ankle. I flinched violently and growled, glaring at him over my shoulder. But that's when I saw him--when I saw Al. 

He was wearing a dark long sleeve and his hair was slightly tussled. Even his monocle was missing. Had I woken him? Was I being that loud? 

"I can help you." He tried touching my ankle again and I still flinched, but not as bad as before. His fingers were light, gentle, and smoothed the fur down. I choked on a sob as I buried my face in the bend of my elbow. "Easy, darling. You'll be okay." 

His hand trailed up my leg, over my back, and wrapped around my torso. I resisted as he pulled me out from under the desk, settling himself against the wood drawers and holding me against his chest. My hands fisted his shirt as each sob shook my whole body. 

"This will pass," he whispered soothingly. I pressed my face into his shoulder with enough force that was likely hurting him as much as me. I repeatedly fisted his shirt and my legs were pulled up tightly to my chest. Everything hurt. 

"Who taught you how to use magic?" he asked. 

The question was jarringly unrelated. "My mother," I mumbled. "Why?"

"I can sense you have a small amount of magic in you, but I didn't think you would know how to use it."

"I do," I muttered into his shirt. His hand rubbed my shoulder while the other one held me close. I could feel his breath on the top of my hair with every rise and fall of his chest. 

"Has it ever backfired on you?" 

I thought for a moment, tears still streaming down my face. "When I first learned. Sometimes...something when I lit a fire...it would be too much," I said in between chokes. He chuckled and the vibrations rippled through my upper body. I closed my eyes as his warmth engulfed me, easing my chattering teeth. 

"I accidentally lit a tent on fire when I first learned," he admitted. 

"You did?" 

"I did." His hand moved to stroke the back of my head. "Learning to control water was the worst, and it always left me completely drenched by the end of it."

I huffed a laugh. "Water was the easiest for me."

"I imagine. You're flexible yet resistant."

I quieted at that last remark. It brought back the uncomfortable memories of our arguments and the burning of my book. Al seemed to recognize this and straightened up. 

"I'll draw a bath for you. That way you can clean up." 

Before I could ask him what he meant, he removed the arm around my back and I felt something sticky. I glanced over my shoulder to see his sleeve and hand covered in blood. I reached for my back and realized I hadn't been sweating but bleeding. It was then I realized I was still shirtless, having torn off my shirt in my fit to get under the desk. 

I dropped my head and hid it against his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

He didn't respond. Instead, he slipped an arm under my legs and lifted me off the ground. Tears of humiliation fell and I covered my face with a bloodied hand. 

"You should have called for someone," he said carefully. "For me."

I swallowed a sob. "I didn't think you'd care."

His expression darkened, but not from anger, and his squeezed me closer. He swallowed first, then muttered, "I care."

I wasn't sure I believed him, but it didn't matter to me in the moment. He used magic to turn the pumps on and sat me on the edge of the tub. 

"Do you need help?" he asked.

I shook my head. 

Keeping his eyes averted, he pulled my hair back with a small rope, then summoned an incense lantern to put in the middle of the room. He kept his back to me as he said, "Call for me if you need. I'll hear." 

Then he closed the door behind him. 

~*~

Alastor's magic surrounded the bathroom as he changed his bloodied shirt for a new one and made his way downstairs. Niffty was still asleep--the sweet girl could sleep through the roughest storms--and he didn't want to bother her. 

His ears were pinned as he sorted through the kitchen, the bubble of the tea kettle and soft groans of the floorboard the only sounds he made. His eyes darted between tasks in an effort to busy himself from the guilt clawing up his throat. 

He plucked a tin from the cabinet with his long claw and checked the label. It was a tea form of Cloudy Twilight, and Alastor was grateful Rosie hadn't attempted to sort through his cabinets to toss this batch out. He scooped the tea leaves into the cup with absent grace. He suspected you were having trouble sleeping, considering the growing bags under your eyes, and this was the best thing for you after a panic. He just hoped you would actually drink it.

His claws were deft as he began to slice fruit, his mind elsewhere. The wild, feral look in your eyes had unnerved him. He had seen your anger, seen your sadness, and seen your desperation, but he had never seen that look before. It made his stomach twist and a sharp pang touch his chest. 

He placed the bowl of fruit and steaming cup of tea on a tray and carried it out of the room. He let out a tight sigh as he climbed the stairs. Guilt. It wasn't an emotion he entertained for very long, but there it was chewing on him and coiling around his throat like a snake. 

His ears flicked at the sound of the water receding from the bathroom. He took the last few stairs to your room and put the tray on the desk. For a moment, he debated on staying...then thought better of it. 

You likely didn't want to see him. Not when he was the cause for your suffering. 

So he slipped out of the room and waited, listening and feeling for your movements. Everything you did was slow and with the utmost care. You padded softly past his room and curled up on the little bed, hugging the quilt he had brought from your bunker. You took a few sips of the tea but that was all you had managed. 

He continued to pace his room until he felt you settle, drifting off into a light sleep.

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Author's Note:

Decided to add a little more from Alastor's perspective thanks to @fynariel (reflection reader)

Vox's claws are closing in...

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Taglist:

@sirens-and-moonflowers @papas-ghoulette

[angelpassing-by]

THE FASTEST WAY IS SELDOM THE BEST

After an attempt, you try to comfort your lover and look through his recovery. Pairing: Tighnari x gn!reader Cw: impplied suicide attempt. A/N: I had some wips about character conforting reader, but none of them seemed good enough to post. I know this is a weird format, but though it would be comforting to read how you comfort someone. Again, English is not my firt language and I'm afraid I sound a bit too formal [it would be great if you had some tips in how to write not so robotically/essay like(?)]. If there is something you would like for me to write, message me, maybe I'll post some sort of guide lines to show what is it that I'm willing to write.

“I wanted to escape, maybe forever.”

Tighnari lies on the simple bed, head thrown against the embroidered pillows. His face – bronzed before – is pale and stained with tears, eyes lost in the ceiling of the room thinly veiled by the smoke of incense burning.

“I understand it, really” You respond trying to keep your voice even, but your lover says nothing, as if he can't believe you. You gently take is hand between your own and rub soothing circles on top of it with your thumb. “I know sometimes life becomes too daunting and the easiest way out seems to be the light at the end of the tunnel.” You whisper

Now he’s looking at you, his eyes glimmering with new pools of tears that threaten to spill into the blankets. “But you told me once that the fastest method is seldom the answer.” Tighnari chuckles, only a raspy sound that seems like a pained groan, but you can see the slight twitch in his ears and the way his frame sinks a little bit more into the mattress, as if more relaxed.

You begin then to reminisce of that particular day leaning against the bed frame and using one hand to caress your lover’s hair. Your voice is barely audible in the clutered room.

“It had been a quite long day, you were on duty and had proposed for me to join you – you didn't wanted me to be alone – and I was jumping from rock to rock in the edge of the path leading home. Do you remember?” A faint nod “For hours you had talked about the flowers and the little forest animas we encountered with such fondness it almost made me jealous” The corners of his mouth curve ever so slightly “You didn’t let me take some roses; said it would be a disaster to the ecosystem. And right there, just in the front of the village, in the middle of the path, lied a beautiful bird feather, it’s blue hues made it look like some sort of treasure or spirit buried beneath the damp dirt. I ran for it, carelessly, anticipating an impressive monologue about birds from you, but I ran too fast and the feather was too light”

“I remember, his hoarse voice cuts through the story” and through the tiredness, he smiles relieved.

“Yes” now you are also smiling sadly and you fingers keep brushing his hair with slow deliberate motions. “I ran too fast, and the feather flew out and into the bridge and as I chased it, it fell below the wooden structure. That’s when you caught up to me and told me .”

How could you not see it? It was so obvious, his tired movements, his longing stares at night, sitting in front of the bedroom window and sighing pitifully. You should have done something. That is what you repeat to yourself everyday sinc the incident happened, still convinced you could have done something to prevent it, although your lover has already told you that tha isn't a burden for you to carry. And obviously, everything seems so crystal clear in retrospective.

"We can't change the past, so holding grudges against it is simply futile." Those are words of wisdom from Tighnari on a rainy afternoon.

Tighnari is sitting outside on a kitchen chair propped on  some velvety green pillows that keep his weak body comfortably leaned into the firm wood. He has changed his usual ranger clothes for some flowy linen garments  and a blanket sent by Candace after the news reached Ardu Village is draped over his knees. It’s woven with a variety of reds and browns and depicts a forest scene populated by shadowy dusk birds and half hidden lizards.

After Collei left, settling in a quaint town in the proximities of Sumeru city, the cabin had fallen silent. Tighnari started to space out his lectures in wildlife and botanic, often preferring the warm seat next to the fire where you cooked. At first, everyone just thought of it as a domestic situation, both of you had even started thinking about children during the months prior to Collei’s departure, just a loving couple wanting to be together. But then he slowly started missing patrols; it was at some point commonplace to see Iraj and Nasring on your living room trying to convince your lover to leave the house and help them in their duties.

You should have known, but you were also going through a lot. Your cooking supplied the forest rangers and watchers and your stock of ointments and pomades were highly sought after by the townsfolk. With little to no time to spend with Tighnari, your living arrangement and relationship deteriorated with each passing day. It also didn’t help that Cyno stopped visiting Gandharva Ville after a while and that his letters, frequent and light hearted before, became rare occurrences with little more than bad news.

But now, Tighnari stretches carefully and happily looks at you at the other side of the kitchen window through his lashes. The sun is making him more optimistic, at least, that’s what he tells you at night, just before you both fall asleep in each other’s arms. Maybe it’s also the overexcited rambles that Collei sends through her letters or the short Genious  Invokation duels with Cyno during his recurring visits.

It has been well over a month, Tighnari is sitting, still too weak to stand for long periods of time, next to the stove. His soothing voice filling the inside of the home with vibrant colors of the rainforest through his tales. The counters are filled with  spice bowls and chopped vegetables whose stories Tighnari never forgets to tell you about. You place a steaming spoon of soup in front of his face.

“Do you like it?” You ask as you watch you lover frowning in a comically exaggerated thinking pose.

“It’s magnificent, love” He responds after a dramatic pause. His sweet words caress your skin and you can’t help but place a big kiss on his forehead, on then one over his nose. “Hey!” he playfully reprimands you, but you can see through the corner of your eye the wagging of his tail.

[gracev0609]

Free Love

Josh X Multiple Partners

WC: 2k+

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI, Explicit Sex, Orgy, Pure Porn, This won't be for everyone.

Disclaimer: This is fiction. I am not at all insinuating that Josh participates in group sex with his fans. This is a fake, fictional story.

Josh POV

You lived and breathed free love. It radiated throughout every part of your life, the way you loved your family, your friends. The way you loved your precious time at home, watering your plants watching them grow to loving your body and the mindful practice of yoga every morning. You loved taking time to cook yourself intricate meals, full of care. You also loved being outside, one with nature, observing the grass and trees, birds and bees as you elevated your mind while smoking the devils lettuce. You loved the road, and the travel, and the fans. Oh, you loved the fans.

Admittedly you loved the ego boost, the way they reached out for you, mouths hung open practically drooling. Knowing that your whorish antics were making their cocks strain and their cunts drip, you loved it. You couldn't deny that the praise of thousands of beautiful people didn't affect you. Your fans knew it, your bandmates knew it, there was no hiding the way you strained in your jumpsuits. It was all for them.

Each city had willing participants, you asked your security to rally up each guest you had handpicked and gather them in your green room. Once you had a group waiting for you, you always heard excited chatters through the door. They were theorizing why they were there. Why did I want them? The answer was a simple one for you, you loved them. You were thankful and grateful for your fans and their unwavering love, you just wanted to love them back. Offering them a spot in your bed was the ultimate show of thanks.

Opening the door handle, the voices stopped and all eyes were on you,”Hello beautiful! I hope you had a great time this evening.”

You made sure to look around, giving eye contact to each person in the room. Smiling when they nodded.

“I have a proposition for all of you. You're very welcome to say no, although I hope you say yes. I think you all are so beautiful, so full of love, I could feel each of your energies out there. Calling for me. So, well, my question is, do you want me? You're invited to my hotel room, I want to love on you all.” You paused letting them make up their minds. Two of your guests decided that they didn't want to, and you respected that, giving them a hug goodbye before letting them leave with security. The remaining five were given an address and a hotel room number as you left to go get prepared for your evening.

✨✨✨

Keeping the lights off you lit a few candles and incense, before settling in on the large bed. Wiping your hands on your soft linen pants you gathered paraphernalia in front of you and began to roll a few joints for the evening. Not long after finishing up for the evening, a knock came from the hotel door. Climbing off the bed you hurried to the door, checking your hair in the mirror before opening it.

“Welcome! Welcome! Come in, take your shoes off, get comfortable!”, you said, extending your arm to show your guests into the room.

Walking back over to the bed after closing the door, you unbuttoned your matching linen shirt letting it fall from your shoulders to the floor. Climbing back into bed your eyes met five other pairs, in various states of hesitation.

“Come on over, get comfortable! Get as undressed as you feel comfortable. There's water bottles in the mini fridge. I want you all to feel comfortable, it's just sex, it's not a big deal.”

A man with medium length wavy hair, pulls his shirt off and makes his way to the bed.

“If at any point any of you decide this isn't what you want to do anymore, please let me know. You're welcome to leave whenever.”

You smile when the most petite woman in the group climbs onto your bed, sitting next to the other participant. Not a second later the rest follow, removing various items of clothing and completing the circle on your bed.

You giggle lightly, grabbing your lighter, flicking the flame on,” Usually we light up at these kinds of things,” You stick the joint in your mouth, puffing on it, getting it lit. Wrapping your lips around the paper you take a deep inhale. Tilting your head up you blow the pale grey smoke above your head, showing off the expanse of your neck. Passing it to the man to your right, he takes it in his fingers.

“Be careful if you don't smoke often, this shits strong.”

By the time it's made it's way around the circle your brain is starting to feel fuzzy, the brush of the woman's fingertips against yours makes you feel warm, euphoric. Remembering why they're here through your haze makes your cock start to stiffen. Once the joint has dwindled and has been ashed out, you set your sights on the gorgeous woman sitting across from you. The way her heavy tits sway with each breath she takes captivates your attention. She smiles at you, eyes lidded, and you crawl your way across the mattress.

“Hi sweet girl. You look so pretty.”

You watch her hazy eyes try to focus on yours,”Hi Josh. You look prettier.”

“Never,” you whisper leaning in a bit closer,”Can I kiss you?”

She leans in, connecting your mouths together. Eagerly she moans into your mouth, grabbing your hand and placing it on her bare breast. Your cock twitches, fully hardening in your pants as you feel her nipple pebble and harden into your palm. She disconnects your mouths, pushing your head to her chest.

“Need to feel you Josh, oh my God I've thought about this so many times.”

You flick your tongue in quick succession over her nipple, surely making her core clench. You lick and suck for a few minutes, before pulling off of her, eager to lavish on someone else. When you sit back up, some of your participants are interacting with each other, making one another comfortable and warmed up.

Your lip curls when you lock eyes with the first man who joined your bed, his green eyes piercing. He boldly crawls into your lap, kissing and licking your neck, rolling his covered cock into yours.

You're panting when he finally removes his lips from your skin and he asks,” Can I suck on your cock? I bet you taste so fuckin good.”

You shimmy back onto the pillows, and giggle when you realize that you have an audience. They all are eager to see what has been hiding behind your jumpsuits.

Hooking your thumbs into your waistband,you pull down, unveiling yourself to the group. Grasping yourself in your hand you give yourself a few tugs, staring into each person's eyes, all of them reading the same expression. They're turned on, and they like what they see.

The green eyed man settles between your legs, as the petite woman snuggles into your side. Her long nails tickling and teasing the skin of your stomach,“Are we being good for you Josh? Want to please you.”

You look down between your legs at the man with his face inches away from your penis. You smile when you notice he seems transfixed on the way you're leaking from your slit.

Looking back to the girl with her chin on your chest,” You're all doing a fantastic job. I like to call my participants my rhinestones. Each of you are so special, each of you are so unique and sparkle differently. It's why I find you all so beautiful.”

Your praises were cut off by a hot mouth enveloping your length, tongue swirling around your tip, savoring the taste of your arousal.

“Fuck, he tastes so good.”

That sentence affects you more than you would admit, he's talking to them about you like you're not even there.

Your breath stutters when another tongue joins the man's, licking and mouthing your cock. Soon enough all five of your rhinestones mouths and hands were on your body. Licking, sucking, scratching and caressing.

The woman from earlier comes into your view again, a soft smile on her face.

You bring your hand to cup her cheek,” Hi my precious rhinestone. How are you, feeling good?”

“I'm feeling really good Josh. But, I feel empty. Can I have you inside me?”

“Of course, honey.”

You caress the heads in your lap, gently pushing them off of you,” Gotta take turns.”

She swings her thigh over your hip, immediately grinding her soaked folds over your length. You smile at her when she sighs content in the feeling of your flesh against her.

She tilts her hips up, sinking down on your length. She can't help but moan when she sits fully in your lap.

“Holy shit Josh. You feel… oh you feel incredible.”

Panting, your eyes roll back when you register that you're buried inside her tight wet cunt. You can help it when your cock twitches as she clenches around you, soaking your lap.

Her hands squeeze your pecs and she smiles sweetly,” You know I can feel that. You're just making me clench harder.”

You swallow the moan threatening to escape,” You're soaked, so turned on. Pretty little rhinestone so wet and glistening… come on love, move your hips. Fuck me.”

Sighing as she starts bouncing in your lap, your mind spiraled as you could feel every ridge inside her as her cunt sucked your throbbing length deeper within her.

After a few minutes you feel her start to flutter around you, and you snake your fingers down to rub her clit.

“Gonna cum on me? Go ahead sweetheart, I wanna feel it.”

You look around at the rest of your rhinestones, some entangled with one another, some pleasuring themselves.

Another beautiful man slid in next to you, placing wet kisses to your neck, “Can I ride your thigh Josh? Please, I want it so bad!”

“Go ahead, love on me.”

You groan when you feel the weight of him settle in on your thigh, shifting his weight, humping his slick cock against your skin.

Your mouth falls agape when the two people riding you start making out whining as they fall apart. First you feel a gush of slick release around your cock as her high slams into her, then you feel his hot sticky release splatter on your skin.

They both slump forward coming down from their highs and you praise,” Such a good job, so so beautiful.”

As most of your group met their ends you eyed the woman who had mostly kept to herself. Hooking your finger in a come hither motion, you beckon her,” Come here honey.”

She crawled over to you, eyes locked on your slick twitchy cock. You cupped her cheek in your palm,” Are you having fun?”

She nodded, still somewhat shy.

“Do ya want to touch me?”

She giggles, trailing her hand up and down your chest, traveling lower and lower. Her dainty fingers wrap around your thick cock, and you pulse.

“Josh?”

You hmm in response as she pumps your length, that familiar burn in your stomach returning once again this evening.

“Can you fuck me?”

“Climb on honey.”

She halts her hand and you silence a groan,” No Josh, I want you to fuck me.”

You chuckle, telling her to lay down. Instantly she parts her legs for you, and you smirk at the wetness glistening within her folds. You grasp your cock in your hand, swiping it through her slit. You shudder, you're so hard and ready to cum. Lining up with her entrance you shudder when you sink into her. Eagerly you pump your hips, aching to finally reach your orgasm for the night. She clenches tight around you like a vice making your eyes roll back. Leaning back onto your knees you pull her hips into your lap, thrusting into her harder and faster, the knot in your stomach tightening. Finally your gaze finds her face and she's looking up at you with adoration, eyes blown out with pleasure.

She sighs, and you realize that she's gently climaxing around you.

“What a good girl… I'm getting close.”

Her eyes flutter open,” I want it in my mouth Josh.”

Lust courses through your veins at the sound of her voice, pushing you even closer.

Quickly you pull out for her, holding your pulsating cock steady in your hand for her to latch on to. Her hot waiting mouth attaches to your length, swallowing you down, when finally the band in your stomach snaps and you're cumming hard into her mouth. When she feels that you've stopped spurting she pulls away from you, opening her mouth and showing you your mess before dutifully swallowing.

Petting her hair you praise her for being so good for you. You both flop down on the mattress, melding with the other spent bodies on the bed. As you caught your breath, your body still buzzing from your high, the woman curled into your side caught your attention,asking a question.

“We're not the only ones you've done this with are we.”

“No, my pretty rhinestone, you're not.”

“Why do you do it?”

“Why? Why not? I want to show my love to people as freely as I love the earth and the air I breathe. I want to love fiercely and passionately, in every aspect of my life.”

She relaxed into your side, pleased with your answer,” You're a beautiful person Josh.”

Fin.

[cienie-isengardu]

Does Bi-Han really has no idea where his brothers are living now?

To me, the most funny thing about the origin of the MK1 Shirai Ryu clan is Kuai Liang and Tomas' assumption that Bi-Han has no idea where their new clan is stationed.

We know from intros, Scorpion and Smoke do not share its location even with their allies so that Lin Kuei can't find it.

Kenshi: Why keep the Shirai Ryu's location secret? Smoke: So that the Lin Kuei can't find it.

But then we have Kuai Liang's ending:

"No sooner had Titan Shang Tsung had been defeated than Bi-Han and his loyalists hunted us down. Outnumbered, we fled to Japan. There we sought refuge from an old family friend. As children, we played together. But Harumi Shirai was a woman now, the head of her clan. Her strength, beauty, and intellect awed me. Also incensed by Bi-Han's betrayal, Harumi agreed to help me forge a new clan. One that would stand against him and defend Earthrealm. Her aid proved invaluable. And as time went on, we grew closer. To honor Harumi and pay respects to my new bride, I named the clan after her, calling it the Shirai Ryu. Now the battle against my brother begins in earnest. The Shirai Ryu won't rest until Bi-Han is defeated and the Lin Kuei's honor restored."

in which:

A) Kuai Liang and Tomas fled to Japan and sought refuge from Harumi Shirai who is called an "old family friend"

B) she and Kuai played together as a children

C) Harumi is the head of her own clan living in Japan so between Scorpion and Smoke and her, it is Harumi who own land, money and/or necessary goods for a clan to prospere AND to fund Kuai Liang's new clan

D) Kuai Liang named his clan, Shirai Ryu, in honor of Harumi.

With such a description, the chances that Bi-Han is not familiar with Harumi are pretty slim to none. He already knows Scorpion and Smoke are in Japan, as they were hunted down by Sub-Zero's loyalists. Kuai has no money so for him to start a new clan, he needs to ally himself with someone who can fund it and support the two former Lin Kuei - and Harumi Shirai is an obvious choice, as the old family friend.

But even if that was not the first Bi-Han's conclusion, the fact that Kuai Liang married Harumi Shirai AND named his clan the Shirai Ryu makes it clear where he is - around Harumi. Scorpion's clan may go into hiding but I doubt Harumi would abaddon her land and clan or force everyone under her rule/protection into hiding so Bi-Han doesn’t even need to search for his brothers, he needs find only Harumi, as Scorpion and Smoke will come to protect her against Lin Kuei.

Since these days it seems everyone, including Outworld and Netherrealm characters, know about Kuai Liang's marriage and Bi-Han is A) operating in Sun Do, the capital of Mileena's Empire and B) is know to collect secrets, it is no surprise he knows about brother's relationship with Harumi. As even intro dialogues outright says so

Scorpion: Stay away from Harumi. Sub-Zero: In this war, family isn't off limits.

and look, putting aside the threat, Bi-Han already considers Harumi part of the family even if they are enemies.

So yeah, the whole "keep Shirai Ryu's location in secret" is so hilarious to me, because the Shirai name is total opposite of secret for Bi-Han, as he knows Harumi and where she is living, if Kuai Liang and Tomas knew where they should go while fleeing to Japan.

Good job, Kuai! 

But you know what is even more hilarious? The fact that Kuai Liang has no real idea where is currently his older brother and goes asking allies and enemies alike for help or information. Like yes, he and Tomas know the Lin Kuei clan is operating somewhere in Sun Do, but Li Mei found them and confronted them about Shirai Ryu activity in her city, while they did not capture Bi-Han there. And sure, Sub-Zero may not stay in one place for too long, however his own ending

"I had broken the Lin Kuei free of Liu Kang's enslavement. We were now masters of our destiny and could take our place among Earthrealm's greatest nations. But taking and holding territory would require a vast army. I needed more fighters to make our presence felt. Then I recalled Shang Tsung's dragon warriors. An army of them would be unstoppable. But trafficking in such strong magic would surely draw Liu Kang's attention. Sektor advised me that we avoid detection by building our army using science, not sorcery. We've invested much time in this endeavor, and we are beginning to see results. Once again proving the depths of Sektor's genius. When we are done, all of Earthrealm will honor our desires and heed our demands. If not, they will face the Lin Kuei's wrath."

says Bi-Han wanted to take and hold territory for his clan and so Lin Kuei invested time and energy into building an army based on magic Dragon warriors. Though it is not specified, I think it is right to assume the building of the army happened on Lin Kuei territory,

as that was their best secured base of operation. Like sure, Liu Kang and Shirai Ryu knew where Lin Kuei home was based but as the clan was living in hiding for centuries, their land was probably well guarded and the headquarter was located in a naturally defensive place.

And I admit, the whole idea that Bi-Han knows perfectly well where his brothers are hiding while Kuai Liang and Tomas have no idea about Sub-Zero's whereabouts and can't find him because none of them thought - or dared - to check Lin Kuei home is way too more hilarious than it should be.

People may make fun of Bi-Han not being smart during story mode but damn, Kuai Liang for sure is no mastermind either. 

[nfumbewalk]

Santa Muerte Tips

An altar for Santa, years ago.

One - Always set La Blanca's statue furthest to the right on a white cloth. La Roja goes next, then your other colors. La Negra prefers last.

Always have a glass of fresh water for her.

Greet her when you pass her by.

Try to honor her twice daily - morning and night.

Simple offerings work. Candles of all kinds, tequila, red wine, cigarettes or cigars smoked and blown on her, Copal resin incense, anointing oil, food, flowers, chocolate. She appreciates money, handmade items, owl statues, written prayers and requests, among many things.

Don't ever attempt to lie to her.

Lose that envy.

Make prayer on your terms. If you don't like prayer (I don't) tell her. There will be arrangements made for you, so no worries.

Also, use whatever prayers you resonate with. If you like Catholic prayer, use it. Pagan prayer, use it. If you do not like prayer, that's okay. Death understands.

Try focusing on one color of Santa Muerte at a time. I suggest the traditional white, red, and black. Start with White Santa if you have illness - such as physical pain or mental illness. See her for ultimate heavenly protection. If you have self-love or relationship problems, go to the Roja Santa. If you have a typical life with the good and bad, trials, joy - but need balance and structure, see the Black Santa. Suggestions, nothing more.

Do not just go to her for trabajos (works). She's not a magical genie.

Keep in mind that her miracles vary in size. When you may want a big change, she may bring you several smaller ones you're more apt to handle.

The size of the offering doesn't matter; it is the intent.

Remember that some other beings and entities do not like Santa Muerte and vice versa. You'll feel a clash oft times. For instance, some Palo nkisi only can tolerate Santa's La Negra and Dorada aspect. True? I experienced it. Some ask if Santa is jealous of other beings. Only if she's not honored or not honored FIRST.

The more candles the better - load up her shrine with as many flames as safe and as possible! Many sizes, many types, even LED! White, black, red, pink, orange, blue, purple, green, brown, Siete Colares, òracion candles, image candles, hexing candles, velas preparadas hechizos, you freaking name it - all to her altar for light and magical purposes.

Did Santa not grant your trabajo? Likely, at some point you stopped your fervency and lust for result. Its not her. You have to have the exact same passion everyday or her power wanes. No joke. She's a saint, she is non-corporeal and only feels when we feel - so you have to engage her with human emotion. Otherwise, your prayer is just another "rando human cry" to her, that she may consider granting when she gets tired of the incessant whining. For serious. Why do you all think some ppl fear her? Think about it! No accident or misconception here. Sorry white lighters. Santa is absolutely EVIL too. Why? She's there for everyone. Not just good regular folks but ALL types of criminals - not just drug traffickers. We are talking human trafficking, murder...you name it, Santa covers it. I've read of Santa Muerte getting *human* sacrifices for protection of these gang members in Mexico and South America. Don't fucking tell me Santa Muerte is "love and light" because she isn't!!! And no, I didn't read of these things online or in newspapers like "News of the World" tabloid garbage. I've seen it in local Tucson papers years back along with some Texas papers. This is because of Santa's growing popularity, especially in Southern border states. I used to live in Tucson, many years ago. Anyway - I digress.

Santa isn't to be treated like a lovey dovey cutie pie that happens to have a flesh ripping scythe... No, no...so don't baby talk her. I know some ppl do. Yes, she's an abuela but she can knock you on your ass so watch it little niñas. 😉 Careful, she has a temper.

No matter what your prayers say, try NOT to beg Santa for help. You may feel better not begging. But don't pay attention to me if you are Catholic or that's your background since that's all you know. I found that begging placed me down too many pegs. As a magician, you are taught that you have your own Will and it is highest. Old Crowley said: "Do what thou wilt." You don't need to beg another being because a magician has their own power. You have your own power, embrace it!

I keep hearing ppl say that they want to "give in to Santa" to be rid of some illness, be it mental, physical or - they want to give up everything to get a certain love relationship, etc. I say: Pls - DON'T give up anything!!!! Why not? Because the liklihood of Santa granting your prayers is about 30% in reality. Low numbers, yes. In reality, Santa doesn't fully answer everyone's prayers. Her fervent followers just see meaning in workaday things that SEEM like her answering their prayers. When Santa does answer a prayer, she is involved somehow. A situation ends up with something directly related to her. It happens to me. For instance: I was WILLING for trabajos. I was reaching below a cupboard to get my Santa Muerte Dorada (gold) statue to put her on my Santa altar. I was touching her statue when all of a sudden, I got a message from a client who wanted to pay me to do an offering to Santa Muerte for them. I did the offering. Then - more trabajos kept flowing in. Any prayers? No. Begging? No. Was she involved? Directly, yes.

Does Santa Muerte heal the sick? If its her prerogative, yes. But when I was on my death bed with pneumonia, she refused to heal me (but she came to me in a near death experience) saying that the actual human life is trifles and she cared about the living because the actual life "force" (Qi transformed to HTDE, my hypothesis) is the most powerful energy in the universe. She said death energy and HTDE is good for death workers to use but has no particular use for her! She sees just our force, or Qi as useful then. Some emotions like love, she appreciates and gives us lovey abuela feelings back. If Roja, she will lust, but not cheaply. La Negra is very serious. Her love becomes like vines. She'll choke you, be careful. Totally serious, you will not breathe right.

Misconceptions: Santa Muerte is jealous all the time. Nope. She is in certain situations, yes. If you put an unknown deity on her altar is one. If you dishonor her rank (She's FIRST in the household, sorry to ruffle feathers here), she'll be hell on wheels. Don't think Santa Muerte has preferences? Do a skin sacrifice and dedicate yourself to her. Then you get to know the real abuela. About black magic, like hexes or curses: Whether you believe in karma or not, if the curse wasn't just in Santa Muerte's eyes, you will face her retribution. She bears the time piece (hour glass) - its only a matter of time - keep in mind - that she bears the scythe, so its only a matter of time before she reaps you. And no, I have no belief in paganism. I'm a monotheist, I'm not a believer in the Wiccan Threefold Law either.

Santa Muerte is inexorably drawn to human drama because she's so concerned with our emotions, when real. She despises "followers" with false pretense and faux emotions. Cry real tears but from a crocodile! Santa Muerte can see the difference and she will punish - usually accidents, bad luck, relationship troubles, life imbalance, financial problems, and spiritual haunting.

Santa Muerte plays favorites. She prefers the lower and working class ppl in the world. It does NOT matter if her jewelry is real gold or silver. Its hers. It doesn't matter if your home is shabby. She's there. It doesn't matter if you can't afford a statue, use a photo on your phone, a book, a magazine, whatever! Pray or intone your feelings to her. Play her songs, draw her, write for her! Dedicate your space to her. Now, Santa Muerte doesn't get jealous of her other aspects - in case anyone has wondered that. Yes, as I said above, Santa Muerte will get jealous of other beings if she's not honored first and separately on her OWN altar. Pls just do not mix Santa Muerte with other beings, Saint or not. I don't have a silly reason. She doesn't like it. The ONLY beings I had no issues with were Jesus and the Virgin Mary, and these were candles - that's it!! Don't get me started about a "pagan" version of Santa Muerte - her um...ancient avatar...lol!! 😂 Mictecacihuatl is not Santa Muerte. You can choose to honor her as a pagan goddess of death but don't equate her with dear Santa because of pure association alone. The symbolism isn't the same. Mictecacihuatl had no scythe. Santa Muerte isn't associated with serpents and had no husband. Things don't add up. Just read carefully and research. And with Santa Muerte never assume anything!!!

Pls like & repost!

Salve, Santísima Muerte. ¡Mi señora de las tinieblas! Mi huesuda dama, gobernante de la muerte y vigilante de las almas!

M.M. 💖💀💖

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Enemies With Benefits

Day 27. Song is Throne by Saint Mesa. Raphael x Celeste.

'Well, if it isn't the little angel, come to bargain,' said Raphael softly. Celeste stood in the doorway, gleaming in gold mail.

'There's nothing angelic about me, devil,' she said. Her voice was soft and lilting, gentle and rounded like good wine. 'And I've not come to bargain. I ran into your associate, Korrilla, wasn't it? She seemed very insistent that you were waiting for me.'

'Hmm.' His mouth curved into a calculating smile. 'And if you are not here to bargain, sweet Celeste, what are you here for?'

She stepped inside, closing the door and setting her longsword carefully against the wall. 'Must we go around in circles? Your surrender, of course.'

Raphael threw back his head and cackled, eyes sparkling with glee. In the dim light, they glowed yellow, arresting in their strangeness. For anyone else it might strike fear, but she had seen eyes like it over and over again; had plunged her blade into their infernal guts and blackened hearts.

'What's interesting,' she continued unfazed, is the name of this room. The Devil's Den. It has implications, you know.'

'Do enlighten me, dearest.'

'It tells me you're a flesh and blood animal like anything else,' she said.

'Yes,' he said, taking a deliberate step forward. Even in human form he loomed over her- for a human she was short, five feet at full height. She stood fast, even as the heat of the hells rolled off him, even when he reached to tip up her chin, thumb ghosting over her full lower lip. 'What else?'

'That you can be killed.'

'You precious little thing,' he said, holding her delicate jaw. 'With your little human heart. Your undying hope is truly inspiring. But you won't kill me, angel. You don't have the guts.'

Her honey brown eyes drifted shut briefly and she sighed. The press of his fingers against her pulse, the heady incense burning in the room and the weariness of her body made her soften, leaning into his touch.

If she'd been clear headed, she'd have sent him to his knees and cut off his head. Instead the moment passed as he reached past her with his other hand for the hookah pipe behind her and took a draw from it; keeping a firm grip on her jaw, he breathed the smoke into her mouth. It was fragrant and heavy, settling on her tongue and sending dull pain pressing behind her eyes.

'Since you're here,' he purred. 'You might as well have a little fun.'

Her head swam with overwhelm. Her longsword felt far away, his hands warm and surprisingly gentle.

He's trying to muddle my head, she thought on a spark of clarity.

'You're tired,' he crooned softly. 'This room is well appointed. Rest. I am sure you will get right back to wanting to kill me in the morning.'

The devil picked her up with ease, her head cradled against his shoulder.

'I don't want to sleep,' she insisted. Waves of anger broke and dissipated against the smoke and desire and fatigue.

'Well, alright then,' he purred indulgently. 'It wouldn't be right to deny you, pretty creature that you are.' He laid her down, gently, settled into the bed behind her. He snapped his fingers, her golden mail vanishing, her warm skin glowing from the dying sun. 'I'll be gentle,' he whispered.

'You'd better,' she found herself saying as he pulled her back against his chest. His large hand covered her mouth as he slid carefully into her soft animal body. She whimpered against his palm, closed her eyes and melted into the bed, soft little cries pulled from her throat with every drag of his cock inside her. There was nothing but the slow build of warmth in her belly, his steady, measured self control, and the hand not against her mouth that drifted to knead her breasts.

She was falling apart. His name was muffled in his palm, her undoing a violent crash of want and need. Anyone else and she would be feeling bliss, but it was the devil at her back. The devil whose name she called in the throes.

'Don't you worry, little one,' he murmured against her throat. 'You can go back to hating me tomorrow.'

Tags:

@bluerosetarot @dansnotavampire @further-than-forever

@forget-me-maybe @poetryvampire @sasha199 @wandawillow

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana @amorgansgal

@aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard

@crimson-and-lavender @reeseykins @medra-gonbites

@roguishcat @weaverofnetheril @galedekarioswifey @hyperfixationstation128 @12thhouse-sun

@astarryvamp @feedthepheasants @dabigstinky @dreamingofthewild @ladyofcrowsandcoffee

@femmefuck @spooky-lil-bee

[i-arch-my-backula]

What Horror characters smell like

Ok do I have requests to do? Yes. Am I doing this instead? Yes. Also this is my opinion for what I assume they smell like. Also I feel Lost boys brain rot coming on so please send in requests for them. Spoiler alert, most of them need a bath

Includes: The Sinclair brothers, The Lost Boys, Martin Mathias, and Billy Lenz

Warnings: Mentions of blood, murder and smoking

Bo Sinclair: He smokes and works on cars all day and smokes so he's going to smell like that. I feel like he has a constant cloud of cigarette smoke around him. That or motor oil. I feel like he's good at masking the blood scent he gets on him when he's been killing people.

Vincent Sinclair: I used to paint as a hobby for like five years so I know what paint smells like so I can be confident when I say that Vincent smells like paint water that's been sitting out for a few days mixed with the generic wax smell. If you're lucky enough to have never smelled paint water that's been brewing in a basement for days it's a sour smell that low key smells like alcohol.

Lester Sinclair: Like Bo he also smokes and being around roadkill all day doesn't help at all when it comes to his scent. He really just smells like rotting meat, sweat and cigarette smoke most of the time. He does clean up nice when he needs to. I can see him as a man who has some kind of nice cologne he wears from time to time.

Paul tlb: So vampires and drugs are a little tricky to figure out in my opinion. Like vampires still get high and stuff, but not as high as humans get. This being said Paul smells like weed half the time. When he doesn't smell like weed he smells like hairspray or just both at the same time. Paul single handily burned a big hole in the ozone layer with the amount of hairspray he uses.

Marko tlb: He also smells like weed but he keeps the smell off of him better. He has a small trace of hairspray from being around Paul all of the time. But on his own he just smells like gasoline from being around his bike all of the time.

Dwayne tlb: He's the only one who really keeps himself somewhat clean, which is hard when you're living in a literal cave. But he just smells kind of dusty most of the time. I can see him stealing cologne sometimes just because, but he's not too bad.

David tlb: He obviously bleaches his hair so I'm assuming half the time he smells like bleach. Not cheap hair bleach but like higher end bleach that he probably steals from beauty supply stores and stuff. He smokes too so if not bleach then most definitely cigarette smoke.

Martin Mathias: I forget the name of the guy he lives with but he probably burns lots of incense for like religious reasons and whatnot so Martin often smells like that, which isn't a horrible smell to be around if you're not sensitive to that kind of stuff.

Billy Lenz: He's one musty bitch. Like he's been living in attics and just random ass places for however long so he smells like dust and just musty all over. But never leave him around perfume of cologne because he will spray way too much of it on himself.

[bloodycyrano]

So.. The Gene Kelly cigarette trick is running rampant in my brain again, here's what I think members of Team Tadpole would think about smoking. Bonus, could they do the Gene Kelly Cigarette trick?

Karlach- Easy starter, it's cannon that she used to smoke cigars. I feel like she knows it's bad for her, and she does her best to get clean; but in high stress situations, she has that itch and sometimes just can't help herself-

6/10. She cannot do the Gene Kelly Cigarette trick. Not properly anyways. She definitely *could* do it, but the point is to not burn yourself in the process. Which.. Technically isn't a problem, given her general fireproof-ness, but I'm still reducing points for the fact that the burning end would be firm against the roof of her mouth the whole time. So in conclusion.. Yes she could, but not properly.

Astarion- Okay, this one might be a little off, but I think Astarion swears up and down he can't stand the smell of it, but absolutely has a hidden smoking addiction.- It wasn't something he'd touch as a Magistrate, pre-vampirism; But as a spawn? He was under constant stress, unwillingly luring attractive snack packs of all types back to Cazador, withstanding abuse, etc. I feel like on the rare occasion when he was able, he'd bum a smoke off of a random Baldur's Gate patron, and then probably get punished for it if he didn't manage to hide the scent well enough.

9/10. He ABSOLUTELY could do the Gene Kelly Cigarette trick. He'd do it with style- After all, he spent like 200 years seducing people.

Gale- No. I think he probably bought a pipe at one point in an attempt to be 'cool' and 'mature', fully intent on using it, and then he got violently ill the moment he actually took a drag. Tara had a very "I told you so" moment.

-7/10, Gale would probably accidentally choke to death if he attempted the Gene Kelly Cigarette trick.

Wyll- I think, as a matter of self care and principal, the blade of the Frontiers doesn't smoke. You probably couldn't pay him to, either. A very respectful decline, but absolutely fucking not.

2/10, Wyll Ravenguard couldn't, and wouldn't.

Shadowheart- She doesn't particularly enjoy smoking. I feel like she's used to smoke inhalation due to incense and ritualistic burning of herbs, perhaps. And maybe she's not a stranger to smoking rolled herbs and flowers.. But cigars or cigarettes? Absolutely not. It's not quite her taste..

5/10, she definitely can't, but she'd be very elegant about it and probably joke about it afterwards.

Lae'zel- Lae'zel sees no proper point in smoking, but she would just to prove a point if she had to. Through pure discipline, I feel like she could force herself to remain stoic and unbothered through smoking even without being remotely used to it.

4/10, she *could* do it, but not without hurting you in the process, and she'd see absolutely no point in it.

[softheartthrobs]

🖋 Sorry, Anon! We had this almost done, and couldn't draft it, so we can't properly answer your ask! With that!:

anonymous asked: *knocks on the club door and runs away leaving 500 cigarettes behind"

☁️ Door!

[she rushes over excitedly to open it]

☁️ Hellooo~! 🎶

☁️ ...hello?

🖋 Who is it, Sayori?

☁️ It's... uh.... a box.

🖋 A box?

☁️ A bunch of boxes, actually. [starts softly counting them]

🧁 [walks out of the closet and towards the door] Who the hell would just leave a bunch of boxes at our door? What even are-

🧁 ...who the hell would leave a bunch of CIGARETTES at our door?!

📚 I- I'm sorry-?

🧁 I wish I was kidding! Look!

[Natsuki crouches and picks up a small box, showing it to the two still in the room]

📚 ...who- what-

🖋 Are they real, or are they fake?

☁️ [proudly] ...25!

🧁 So that's, what, 500 of these little... fuckin.'.. death sticks?

☁️ ...lavender? Bubblegum?

🖋 They're not real, thank god-

📚 ...Yes, but even so, smoking herbal cigarettes isn't good for the lungs, as the smoke may still cause the smoker in question to cause damage to their respiratory system...

☁️ [looking at Monika pleadingly] ...

🖋 Yes, Sayori, you can have the bubblegum ones.

☁️ Yay!

[Sayori collects the boxes of bubblegum and candy cigarettes, still leaving quite a few boxes]

🧁 So... what about the rest, Prez?

🖋 ...are there any actual, like, legit cigarettes?

🧁 ...not that I can see. Why?

📚 If they're all herbal, I'd like the lavender ones Sayori mentioned...?

🖋 Yuri!

📚 N- Not to smoke-! You know where I stand on smoking-!

🧁 Then for what?

📚 Well, they'd assumedly still smell like lavender when they burn, yes? I'd like to use them for the smell, much like the way incense is burned.

🖋 I...guess that makes sense, yeah...

[Natsuki closes the door and lays out the boxes on a desk, quickly going through and sorting them.]

🧁 ...No, no, yes, no, y- ..hey, these are real.

🖋 [rubbing her temples, muttering] Fucking kill me now-

🖋 Okay, just hand them to me, I'll... I'll deal with them after the meeting.

🧁 Sm-

🖋 No, I'm not gonna smoke them.

All in all, the result:

Sayori leaves happily with four boxes of bubblegum cigarettes and five of candy.

Yuri is blessed with seven boxes of herbal cigarettes, six that are lavender and one that isn't labeled as anything but herbal.

Natsuki picks up the three boxes that Sayori left one of gum and two of candy.

Leaving Monika with the remaining 11 boxes of legitimate cigarettes. She throws all of them away, but one, keeping it as a momento of the odd day. Her girlfriends don't know she has a box of things from these kinds of situations.

[dateamonster]

Wisps of smoke were sifting through the gap in the supply closet door, and Coach knew well enough what that meant. She opened the door and the girls inside startled, nearly upsetting the censer filling the space with the thick scent of sandalwood.

She took in the scene: four juniors surrounded by assorted sports equipment and spare jerseys, crowded around a channeling board in a circle of tea candles. It wasn't one of those cheap mass-produced boards with the characters only printed onto some varnished slab of plywood either. If she were to guess, Coach would peg it as belonging to one of their parents.

"Girls, we talked about this," she sighed. "No séances on school grounds."

One of the girls, a blonde wearing what appeared to be an homage to a Victorian mourning dress complete with black veil, began to whimper and the others flocked to her side with crystal pendants all a-jingling to comfort her.

"Have a heart, miss, her boyfriend just died."

The begrieved wailed, "Danny!"

"Shaunee, sweetie, we've been over this. Daniel isn't dead. He just changed schools."

"Same difference," a witchlet with a severe purple smokey eye muttered under her breath.

"He hasn't answered any of my texts in weeks," Shaunee sobbed, eyeliner already streaming down her face. "Something must have happened to him. I'm a quarter banshee, I know about this stuff!"

Coach repressed the urge to roll her eyes. "Okay, everybody out. And put out those damn candles, that's a fire hazard. This is your final warning, ladies. If I catch any one of you using magic unsupervised one more time, it's a week's suspension for all of you."

The young witches cried out their collective complaints.

"And I'm confiscating that board, too."

"Miss, no! My mom'll kill me!"

Called it. “Well luckily if she does I’ll have this handy board so I can make sure you're attending detention from beyond the grave."

"Detention?!"

"Yes, detention. You're lucky I'm not sending you straight to the principal's office." A collective shudder went through the group at the thought, Coach included. She didn't prefer to subject anyone to that, no matter how deserving. "You brought an unauthorized magical object into school and now my basketballs smell like a Bath and Body Works."

A couple of the girls smirked at one another with badly repressed laughter. "Smelly balls."

"What's that?" asked Coach. "You want to run ten laps?"

"We're not even in class right now!"

"Twenty laps it is. Hop to it."

Another collective groan as they trudged out to the track. Coach gathered up the channeling board, the candles, the incense, and took them to her office. She unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk and tossed the lot in, to rest with the confiscated bounty of semesters past. Firecrackers, vape pens, a compact grappling hook launcher, several softly glowing amulets of various ornate designs, a petrified severed lamb's head with taut leathery skin and haunting glass eyes that followed you around the room, and a couple accumulated grams of weed. And now this, of course.

Certainly, Coach thought, she had gotten into her fair share of trouble at that age, but back in those days she would have never dared talk back to a teacher like that. This generation was a new breed. Or maybe she was just going too soft on them.

The lamb's head distended its ragged jaw and emitted a low gurgling string of Old Arabic.

"Oh what would you know about it."

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Terrible sense of direction

@ladysunami

😇🌿🧚 Angel (or heavenly spirit) Lan Zhan meets fae (or nature spirit) Wei Ying and is smitten. Up to you how the upright Lan Zhan ended up in the fae wilds.

Lan Wangji is not lost. He is not lost, shut up. He knows exactly where he is.

Kind of.

Anyway, he isn't lost, he absolutely intends to be here! ...in this big, dense forest that doesn't have a marked pathway anymore...

Okay, fine, he is lost. Whatever. It's not his fault his brother is terrible at giving directions! And it's also not his fault that Lan Xichen's flown off who knows where surrounded by nymphs after, not even waiting to see if Lan Wangji had any questions.

Shameless! They're not even supposed to - to - mingle with others like that! They're on official duty! And no, whatever Lan Xichen is doing with those nymphs is none of that. Lan Wangji is old enough to know what his brother means with "discussing private matters with our allies" and it doesn't involve talking!

So, here Lan Wangji is, in the middle of nowhere, lost like a dumbass. The whole Hanguang-Jun, lost. Ridiculous! Lan Wangji is angry and he's lost and he's going to take all that out on-

"Hey! Hey! You've cut off enough of my trees!" A voice comes seemingly from among the leaves, materializing into a beautiful man in flowing, dark robes. "I don't know what your deal is, but stop destroying my house!"

Lan Wangji is too pissed off to notice this man is, one, a fae. Two, incredibly hot. Three, showing too much cleavage.

He doesn't notice any of that, quiet!

"So?" The man continues, eyes crossed over his bare, shining, muscular - focus, Lan Wangji - chest, "Why are you here doing all this lumberjack business with a spiritual sword? Are you guys up in the Air Kingdom running out of jobs or something?"

Lan Wangji glares. He isn't going to laugh, that wasn't funny. It was not.

"I am on official business."

"Then you're very lost because we don't do that here."

"What do you mean? There is no-"

The forest spirit shifts his weight from one leg to the other, suddenly on guard. "We're, um, unaffiliated."

"Unaff..." realization and horror pass Lan Wangji's features consecutively. "Am I in the-"

"The Burial Forests, yes."

"Which means you're..."

The forest spirit smiles, eyes glinting red. "The Yiling Laozu."

The forest suddenly feels darker, sunlight now hidden by rows upon rows of thick leaves as dark smoke floats from deep within the ground, the Yiling Laozu's eyes shining ominously in the dark.

"You've heard what happens to those that cross my territory." A smile. "I'll send my regards to the Air Kingdom once I'm done with you."

---

Extra:

Lan Wangji sighs, contently, eyes opening to the breaking dawn. Wei Wuxian groans into his chest, poking his chest only a bit too hard.

"You're terrible! What happened with letting me be scary and take control? Now I won't be able to move for days! I have a night hunt coming up, Lan Zhan!"

"You initiated this in the first place. Should have expected it."

"Evil! Hanguang-Jun is evil!"

Lan Wangji laughs, "Mn. Very."

"Anyway, as punishment for tricking me, you get to return the incense burner to the forbidden library."

Lan Wangji's face falls. That is a horrible punishment. "Wei Ying..."

"None of that!

He lets his voice drop lower, "A-Ying..."

"Quiet! You think you can just A-Ying me and I'll limp into the library in front of your uncle to bring back the damn thing?! No way!"

Lan Wangji kisses him, sweetly and manipulatively. "Please?"

"...fine."

[quex-your-local-witch]

Herb Spotlight: Fleabane

Guess what bitches? It's ~Fleabane Season~

Fleabane is a "weed" (i.e., a wildflower in the Erigeron family) that is prevalent throughout North America, and grows like crazy if left to prosper in meadow-y areas. It looks very similar to domesticated daisies, albeit much smaller in flower size, more akin to German Chamomile. There are actually many different types of Fleabane, and the color of the petals can vary from white to yellow, or even a pinkish/purpley color. It's a composite flower, and it will have many flower heads per stem. Neat, huh?

Anyways, Fleabane had been used for thousands of years in North America by the indigenous peoples. It has both a variety of magickal and medicinal uses!

Magickal uses include:

Exorcism. Yes, like banishing-bad-sprits type of exorcism, along with banishment of negative energies. Burn it as you would any other herb bundle (sage, rosemary, cedar, etc) to exorcize a space of any negative entity or energy.

You can also use it to protect yourself by preventing bad spirits from arriving by hanging it around your home - either in bundles, or small sachets. Can be done in combination with St. John's Wort, wheat, and a few capers for best effect.

The seeds of the Fleabane flower tossed between the bedsheets promotes chastity. I guess if you really need someone (or yourself) to remain celibate for a time, this can come in handy - especially if the person co-sleeps with a partner.

Alignments of: feminine aspect, the planet Venus, and the element of Water.

Along with the metaphysical uses of Fleabane, there is a wide variety of medicinal uses for this plant (note: I am not a medical doctor. Do not take this as medical advice. Consult a physician or certified herbalist if you plan on taking it for any of these... ahem... more serious uses).

Medicinal uses include:

To reduce inflammation. Can be used in a poultice or a tea to treat inflammation about the body.

Wound ointment. Traditionally, the Cherokee made an ointment using the herb and tallow to made a balm or salve for cuts and scrapes, as it has astringent properties.

You can steep it in a Witch Hazel Extract solution to further enhance the astringent properties for use on skin.

The roots can be boiled in water to make a solution for "menstruation troubles" (i.e., to bring about a miscarriage. Dangerous. Do not do this).

Drinking a tea can also help break fevers and treat symptoms of the common cold

A diuretic, can help with certain kidney conditions (consult a doctor for this one to make sure no medications you are taking with interfere with its use. Do not use if you have a history of kidney disease) by breaking up any of the smaller particulates that would lead to kidney stones

Using the herb as an incense and inhaling the smoke can be used to treat head colds

Has antioxidant and neuroprotective properties from something called caffeic acid, which this plant has LOTS of!

Aids in digestion and can be used to treat diarrhea

May help with passive bleeding or minor hemorrhaging by being applied directly to the wound (don't take this advice, go to the fuckin ER)

Had been shown in some circumstances to inhibit the growth of cancerous tumors (for the love of God, see a doctor for this, don't take the advice of a post on tumblr dot com to treat cancer)

Isn't this plant so cool? And you cloud have it growing in your yard right now! I know I do, because I harvested a fuck ton of it today, evidenced here:

I'm going to dry all of these bundles and process them into cut and shifted leaves/stems and flowerheads. The two small bundles in the middle will be hung from the ceiling to ward off negative spirits and energies.

Now for some fun facts!

Despite the name Fleabane and the association of repelling fleas and ticks, there is no proven evidence that this works... at least for the dried herbs. I haven't found any studies on this for live plants.

The entire plant is edible, and is high in vitamin C! It was used to treat scurvy, and the cooked leaves taste like spinach (you can eat them raw, but there's little hairs all over it, which are not pleasant to consume)

These plants are high in caffeine! If you make a tea out of the flower heads the same way you would Chamomile, you get a nice floral tea with a kick to start your day off right.

Remember kids! I am *not* a doctor, so don't be using this to treat some weird ailment or cancer. And please, for the love of God, do some research on herbs before you use them medicinally. But in terms of the metaphysical properties, go ham! Have a blast! Banish that weird ghost in your house that likes to watch you pee!

And as always, have fun with your craft!

Sources:

Department of Agriculture, United States. Erigeron Philadelphicus, L. USDA. https://plants.usda.gov/home/plantProfile?symbol=ERPH. Accessed April 17, 2023.

Cunningham, Scott. Cunningham's Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs. Llewellyn Publications, 1985.

[ome-magical-ramblings]

Incense part #2, Consecrating and Blessing the censer with life.

Continuation of post #1 , this one deals with enlivening/breathing life into the censer and basically consecrating it. I would assume that you, the reader were able to secure some kind of censer. Now I know that these conditions of gathering the church, mosque, temple, holy dirt isn't feasible for some people, some people can't make too much smoke or can't handle too much incense. In any case this is an alternative to the above, from Draja Mickaharic's Spiritual Cleansing book. Charcoal, can, Saucer, A, B,C. I also I recommend self-igniting charcoal:

I also recommend making one of these small "resin heaters" if you CAN and you won't don't cut your fingers while making them. Also DON'T DON'T DON'T use synthetic incense mix with resin heater because if the flame reach the incense mix it might catch on FIRE. Your own personal safety is important, so big marks on THIS, be careful and whatever you want to think just if you can afford to buy a bucket of sand and put the censer there it would be better.

Now What? welp I would assume you have a specific censer or some kind of censer that you would USE for this, and you should the censer will be full of life and every time you use it then it will gain some of the flavor/incense of your work. The first idea you can use if you're burning with charcoal or without charcoal is that you don't want to scorch the resin/gum. a piece of aluminum foil or a tealight candle holder like the one I am using....of course you can use mica sheet, but I don't have the qash for that. In any case, the heat is more regulated this way and you get more out of your resin pieces in the long run. Instead of using 3 pieces of frankincense gum you only need one. Yes the incense help but it's like the wings of a bird, the incense and YOUR HEART/YOUR PRAYER is what carries the other wing of the bird. You set up the base of holy dirt/sand/ash, you put the charcoal, before you light it up you put it on your altar/place of working. You light up the charcoal in the name of the father, the son and the holy spirit or whatever you start your working with. You will recite Gospel of John 1:1-14 for 7 times over the charcoal and breath into it from afar. Afterwards you put one frankincense and myrrh to bless the censer for the first time and bring life into it, and say Psalm 23 three times over it and present it in front of your icon of God/Divine Creator and if you don't have one just raise it up and ask God to bless it. Now take it to safe place for it to finish burning/charcoal to cool down. That's it for today, stay tuned tomorrow for the "next step".

[hskinhome]

Also, since I’m interested, how does a pendulum reading work? It’s okay if you’re not comfortable with it :3

-Pawnon

This may not be the best-worded response since I'm recovering from a cold and low on spoons, but I'll try my best to explain!

To start, pendulum readings are done "by the movements of a suspended object," according to Wikipedia. The object is often a cone- or prism- (or a mix of both) shaped crystal on the end of a metal chain, sometimes with extra decorations! That isn't to say it has to be like that, as Signless is the official, former WLF/FFBF necklace, and my other one (which I don't use as frequently anymore) is an old charm put onto a necklace chain! I've even seen people put paperclips on string to do their readings!

What also determines your answers is the mat or card below it that has the responses! Most commonly, the mats/cards will have "yes," "no," "rephrase," and "try again," but each one is different! You can also use a paper with the answers you're looking for written on it if you choose! I got my mat off Amazon, but you can also find them at metaphysical stores or most places that carry crystals and/or pendulums!

When you ask your question, I recommend sitting upright and straight to a. remain more grounded and b. get a clearer view of which way your pendulum is swinging. The direction it swings toward will be your answer, so pay attention and keep an open mind! If your pendulum is being fussy (which he can be quite often), I recommend swinging it through some incense or other cleansing smoke! I also created a water-based cleansing spell here if your pendulum is safe to place in water!

The other thing you wanna keep in mind is that generally, questions that are answered with "yes" or "no" will be the ones you respond with a pendulum. More open-ended questions can be hard to determine, and other forms of divination (such as tarot or rune readings) are better suited for them. That isn't to say you can't try! I just don't have much luck with them myself.

I hope this helps you, and let me know if you need anything else!

-Mod Nepeta

[monochromaticbeans]

The Ghost of You

Takes place in the gravesite scene of Sakayume Chapter 63: Falling. Hikari visits Keisuke's grave in the Bonten timeline. This is written from Keisuke's perspective. Yes, as a ghost. It's a bit inspired by the MCR song that this chapter is named after.

The wind was sharp and cold, slicing through her clothes as she approached. Yet the warmth in her heart rose with every step, insulating her against the chill. Hikari brought incense, lighting it reverently with a steady hand, watching the tendrils of smoke curl up into the gray sky.

Beside the headstone, she set a tray of peyoung yakisoba, a small, absurdly familiar offering. It had been his favorite, and in the stillness, she could almost see him beside her, smirking, teasing her for bringing it. She smiled despite herself, a real smile, though it was tinged with sadness.

“Hikari…” Keisuke stood beside her, his hands tucked into the pants pockets of his Toman toppofuku.

She knelt down, pressing her hand against the cold stone, her voice barely above a whisper. “Keisuke… I’m trying. Everything’s so goddamn crazy. I do not belong here. At all.” Her fingers traced the rough edges of the stone.

“You're right,” he said, wishing she could hear him. “This isn't where you should be.” He knelt beside her, wanting more than anything to hold her.

“The me that was already here… you’d be so disappointed in her. She gave up. But me… I don’t know if I can make it here.”

“I'm not disappointed in you, Hikari. I'm disappointed for you.” he said. The way her head dropped made his heart ache. “It wasn't supposed to be like this. You deserve so much better.”

Her hand found the wolf pendant hanging around her neck, her fingers tightening around it. “I miss you. Every day, I miss you,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

“I miss you, too.”

The sense of guilt he felt kept him from moving on. It tethered him to the physical world and to her. It was his fault that her life turned out this way. If he hadn't tried to play the hero, he'd still be here. With her. With Hotaru.

Everything he tried to accomplish—exposing Kisaki and saving Toman—had been in vain. Kisaki was only part of the problem. The true cause for Toman's downfall was Mikey. And no one—not him, not Draken, not Takemichi—could have known or prevented it.

He saw Hikari grieving not only his loss, but Hotaru's as well. And there wasn't a goddamn thing he could do. All these years, he stood by her while she struggled, while she shut herself off, while she tore out her own heart and locked it away in that storage unit with his bike.

He couldn't blame her, she did the best she could with the shitty hand the world had dealt her. She was stronger than she realized, but the weight was too much for her to carry, even with Chifuyu there to help.

If she only knew, if he could tell her, that he's been by her side and always will be.

The wind stirred, lifting a few leaves in a rustling circle around her, and for a brief, fleeting moment, it felt as though he were there with her, watching over and protecting her. The air grew heavy, almost alive, like the warmth of his presence wrapped around her heart. She took a shuddering breath, trying to hold onto that sensation, wishing it would stay just a little longer.

“You feel it now, don't you?” His smile was bittersweet as the leaves circled around her, dancing on the breeze. “I'm here.”

Perhaps it was Keisuke watching her. Someone else was watching, too.

He felt the presence behind them before he saw Sanzu standing a few rows away, observing Hikari. He moved closer to the man, standing unseen in front of him.

“Still acting like the Fifth Division Vice Captain, huh?” He knew Sanzu had quietly kept an eye on her over the years, that he'd stepped in to protect her more than once. That he cared about her in his own way, as twisted as that might be now.

The way Sanzu and Hikari sought the dark comfort of oblivion in one another wasn't really that surprising. He couldn't say he approved of their arrangement, but he could understand it. It made sense in the context of the fucked up world they lived in.

He'd seen how their pink-haired friend, Mikey's right hand, changed Hikari's more dangerous assignments after seeing her lose her sense of self-preservation. He gave her tasks that involved less risk to her personal safety. Whether that decision was subconscious or deliberate, he couldn't quite tell.

He glanced back at Hikari, still sitting at his grave, before stepping closer to Sanzu.

“You better not let anything happen to her,” he said, knowing his words were nothing more than the whisper of a breeze. Almost as if responding, Sanzu's jaw tightened for a fraction of a second.

Hikari stood up, giving the gravesite one last, lingering look before returning to the Suzuki. She swung her leg over the seat and turned the key. As she drove away from the cemetery, a boy with long, black hair sat behind her with his hands resting on her shoulders.

"I've got you. Always do."