#at the bottom of that spread was the pantheon

[4uru]

You leave me alone for 3 days with complete freedom and independence and i will jump back into my greek mythology phase.

Ok no srsly during quarentine and the height of my art journey where i used to draw every waking moment, my muse was Patroclus . (Bc i am a greek-roman mythology nerd since the tender age of THREE). I LITERALLY COULD NOT STOP DRAWING THIS SON OF A BITCH.

What im trying to say is, new art is about to drop sometimes tonight.

[blackjackkent]

Hector turns from knocking the mind flayer to the ground and looks over his shoulder in time to see Karlach's blade sink deep into Ketheric's chest.

It is obvious, even from a distance, that the blow is mortal. Aylin is free from her cage, and Ketheric is vulnerable, and the blade strikes home, dashing through a crack in his battered, broken armor and sending him to his knees.

He howls with impotent rage and agony, the sword clattering from his hand, clutching blindly instead at the gem embedded in the chest of his armor.

"What a fool you are--" he gasps out, as the blood pours over his hands. "You cannot kill me... I am eternal..."

In a quick, lithe motion Hector leaps across the gap separating him from Karlach and the others, coming to a halt standing over Ketheric as he begins to bleed out.

At last. At least, this finally ends, he thinks to himself, with more exhaustion than satisfaction. He has seen so much, centuries worth, of Ketheric's cruelty. With that blow, it is finally over.

In my Lady's name, and that of every Selunite you killed, die and be damned to you.

But Ketheric struggles to his feet; a manic light taking over the deadened pain in his gaze. He spreads his arms, backs away from Hector towards the edge of the slimy, smoking pit that stands at the center of the platform.

"MYRKUL!" he bellows, his voice echoing to the ceiling of the cavern. "LORD OF BONES! I AM HERE... I AM READY!"

And before Hector can stop him... he falls backwards, away from them, down into the muffled light below.

"I am yours..."

Hector peers down into the pit, listening for anything that would indicate that Ketheric has hit bottom. His skin is prickling with some inarticulate anxiety. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong in this place still...

At first he hears nothing at all. Then... a low rumble like an avalanche, the ground trembling under his feet.

And a voice.

Not the Absolute; a baritone rumble this time, a thunderous explosion on each syllable. It knocks him backwards a step, seizes his heart, chills through his blood. He catches his breath with a sort of dizzy terror, a sense as much of awe as fear.

He has lived his life in service of a goddess, the divine a part of his every waking moment. In spite of all his devotion, Selune has never spoken to him, not directly.

But it is a god speaking to him now. A wrong god. A terrible god.

"YOU DARE END ONE WHO BELONGS TO ME?" thunders the voice. It rattles in every atom of Hector's body, the ache in his head reawakening to something agonizing.

The ground around them begins to rock. The pit begins to belch a pale green fire, adding a sticky heat to the thickness of the air.

"I AM THE SMILE OF THE WORM-CLEANSED SKULL. I AM THE REGRETS OF THOSE WHO REMAIN. I AM THE REGRETS OF THOSE WHO REMAIN, AND THE RESTLESSNESS OF THOSE WHO ARE GONE."

"I AM THE HAUNT OF MAUSOLEUMS, THE GOD OF GRAVES AND AGE, OF DUST AND DUSK."

An enormous, skeletal hand reaches from the pit, grasps the rock next to Hector's boots. Then another. An enormous figure of bone and steel starts to resolve itself out of the fog, its empty eyes staring down Hector as it rises.

"I AM MYRKUL," the god thunders, "LORD OF BONES, AND YOU HAVE SLAIN MY CHOSEN."

Oh... Hector thinks, feeling suddenly a little bit faint. Killing Ketheric was one thing, killing the false god of the Absolute is one thing... but this is altogether different. This is a true god, one of the divine pantheon, one who stands alongside Selune even if antithetical to her.

How can he fight a god? How can he kill one? Surely this is not Myrkul himself but some avatar, but what difference does that make, in the end?

The fear squeezes his heart like a vise.

The god's enormous form leans forward, towering over him. "BUT IT IS NO MATTER," it continues, the voice now thick with venom. "FOR I AM DEATH. AND I AM NOT THE END. I AM A BEGINNING."

Light flares around its giant skeletal hands, an enormous scythe manifesting itself out of the darkness. The blade swings just above Hector's head as he staggers backwards.

"Shit," he hears Shadowheart whisper behind him, the single word full of a thousand others.

Hector turns, meets her eyes for a moment, and sees something of the same pain he feels reflected in them. For a moment, after all their strife, the two of them understand each other perfectly.

My Lady, forgive me for what I am about to do... forgive me that I try to strike down an avatar of one of your brethren. There is no other choice.

[anueutsuhos-touhou-profiles]

Hecatia Lapislazuli:

Images by Peachems and Quarium

Bottom image by Raptor07

Hecatia Lapislazuli is Hecate, the Greek goddess of magic and where three roads meet. As with Sagume, the English word "goddess" is used for her instead of the Japanese "kami", showing that she's a foreigner diety.

(Though if you wanna be persnickety about it Hecate wasn't a god but a Titan who was later accepted into the Olympian pantheon.)

She's often called the Goddess of Hell, but she doesn't really do much governing there. She actually prefers to be thought of as an outlaw in Hell. Still, she apparently outranks much of the celestial bureaucracy, including all the Yama (like Eiki Shiki).

Remember when I kept saying about Yukari and Eiki Shiki that stronger beings existed in the universe? She's it. According to ZUN himself she is the most powerful being in the series, leages above anyone in Gensokyo or on the moon. If you win against her, she let you win and was not taking it seriously in the slightest. That said, she's not interested in lording her power over everyone. She's content to let everyone live their lives as they see fit.

Hecatia first appeared as the Extra boss of Legacy of Lunatic Kingdom. It turns out Junko had partnered up with her to do her latest Chang'e assassination plan. It was Hecatia's hell fairies that Junko used to chase away the Lunarians, and Hecatia was to go to the Dream World and kill Chang'e there in case Junko couldn't reach her in time, acting as Junko's trump card.

However, Sagume catches onto this, and sends the protagonist to stop Hecatia. Unusually, Junko appears as well to fight alongside Hecatia, teaming up at the very end for "The First and Last Nameless Spellcard".

Why did Hecatia ally herself with Junko? Well, she claimed it was because Hou'yi attempted at one point to shoot down the sun, which Hecatia took as an attempt at killing her dear brother Apollo. However... the real reason was... she just really liked Junko and wanted to help her.

Unlike Junko, Hecatia has enjoyed a decent amount of reappearances, to the point she acts more in the "former incident causer" role than Junko does.

Hecatia tends to act very laid-back and immature, talking in something like a valley girl style. She takes great pride in her outfit, even though it stands out like a sore thumb in this series' cast. Sanae Kochiya called her a "freaky T-shirt weirdo" and Hecatia declared "just for that, I'll drop you into Hell." She sometimes acts like she's planning some big evil scheme, and is proud of Clownpiece for the destruction she's caused in Gensokyo.

Despite this crude exterior, Hecatia in reality has a strong sense of justice and wisdom. She despises the dog-eat-dog mentality that Hell has, as well as despising the spread of falsehoods. She cares deeply for Clownpiece, viewing her effectively as her child. As mentioned earlier, she sent Clownpiece to Gensokyo simply because she wanted a better life for the fairy than the brutality of Hell. She still considers herself a friend of Junko, and even claimed they were a "totally perfect match" for each other.

She also legitimately despises the Lunarians, seeing them as an echo chamber that refuses to let new ideas in, and compares them to Gensokyo, which "accepts everything".

In the book Alternative Facts in Eastern Utopia, Aya Shameimaru tries to spread rumors in her upcoming tabloid that Hecatia was planning to invade Gensokyo using Clownpiece as a sort of advance scout. Hecatia confronts Aya about this, and they discuss their differing worldviews: Aya envies the meritocracy of Hell for potentially offering her a way out of the Tengu caste system she lives in, while Hecatia argues this leaves too many people in the dust and that a caste system is arguably more stable. If success doesn't matter, she argues, than neither does failure. Aya eventually lets slip that she's rather xenophobic and doesn't really like the idea of newcomers appearing in Gensokyo, thinking they're too dangerous. Hecatia challenges this idea and says that in reality these newcomers are responsible for new and interesting ideas coming in.

Hecatia even says "If you build a giant wall somewhere, that wall is definitely coming down someday, and if you exclude people you consider "unnecessary", then you're definitely setting up your own downfall. Other worlds aren't "different" worlds, they're just your neighbors." Clearly taking a stab at the then-recently elected US President Donald Trump.

She eventually gets Aya to shut down the tabloid she was planning on publishing after she accuses Aya of potentially being a puppet for the Lunarians.

Hecatia's next major appearance was in The Grimoire of Usami, where Clownpiece invited her to help hijack Reimu's fireworks festival. However, unlike the rest of the contestants following Shinmyoumaru, Hecatia had no intention of harming the audience, and so played it safe. This was a great disappointment to Seija and Shinmyoumaru, who had hoped to see the true horror of the most powerful woman in the known universe.

She eventually appeared at the end of Visionary Fairies in Shrine. An incident occurred that reduced Gensokyo to a barren wasteland, and turned almost all the fairies into red crystals. Hecatia showed up, claiming she wanted to harvest these crystals and bring them to Hell. She claimed she wanted to bring nature to Hell, so that those suffering could have just a taste of joy before their hope is crushed even further. She tasked Clownpiece with collecting them, but Clownpiece disobeyed and instead looked to find the culprit to save her new friends. She failed, but the culprit basically undid her work herself: it turns out the culprit was keeping an eye on Hecatia and was worried she was planning on conquering Gensokyo, and so caused an incident to see what Hecatia would do. Hecatia "punished" Clownpiece for defying her by "banishing" her from Hell forever to live in Gensokyo. Of course, we know in reality this was her sealing the deal and officially declaring Clownpiece to be a fairy of Earth, not Hell.

Hecatia has the ability to exist in three bodies at once, each using a celestial body lodged in that odd hat of hers. A red haired body for Hell, a blue haired body for Earth, and a blonde haired body for the Moon. In her boss fights, she only uses one at a time and swaps between them, because Junko thought that was more fair than a four-on-one battle. The full extent of her power is that she can see and act in three different dimensions simultaneously, in a way incomprehensible for us humans. It's this ability that makes her as powerful as they say she is, as you'd effectively have to kill her three times to do her in, if you could even kill her ONCE. She also uses her Hell body for pretty much every world outside of Earth and the moon, such as in the Dream World. ZUN has suggested each body has a different personality, but we haven't seen much to confirm this.

Her danmaku mostly consists of large amounts of kunai, colored to match her body (except her red haired body uses purple). Her spellcards depend on what body she's in. Her Otherworld spellcards use hellfire, which looks red or purple depending on the attack. Her Earth spellcards use lots of beam lasers falling from the sky like rain, which then hit the ground and turn into fireballs that shoot upwards, or vice-versa. Her Moon spellcards use a large amount of stars, tying into the space theme of the game. Most often she shoots waves of tiny stars that hit the edges of the screen and turn into laser beams that bounce in a different direction.

She also uses the same miniature moons that Clownpiece uses, but she uses them more directly as projectiles than Clownpiece does. One of her most notable spellcards is one that appears to be a massive meteor shower (again, reusing the fake moons from Clownpiece's fight) where every meteor explodes into purple fire on impact. However, these aren't just asteroids: these are Dwarf planets! This spellcard references the Giant Impact Hypothesis: Thea, the hypothetical Dwarf planet thought to have collided with Earth and then merged with it billions of years ago, only for a chunk to break off and become our moon.

Her longest attack is "Trinitarian Rhapsody", where she creates a large amount of green laser triangles.

These spellcards are interesting, but outside of the planet rain, they don't really give off the vibe of "this is the most powerful being in the canon so far". Which makes sense, she doesn't want to throw her weight around too much.

Oh, and her T-shirt. ZUN wanted to put either "Welcome to Hell" or "I ♡ Hell", but he mixed them up and put "Welome ♡ Hell". He wanted to give her a goofy, modern, minimalist design to subvert expectations about what the most powerful being in the series would look like.

Fun fact: there's an obscure conspiracy theory that the Statue of Liberty is actually a pagan idol dedicated to Hecate. Perhaps ZUN heard of this, explaining why Hecatia's servant wears the red, white, and blue and carries that torch around.

[undyingmedium]

Who is Anika's patron? What are they like? What is their relationship like?

Straight to the point, are you not? There's sooo much to discuss about the Deep One~

His appearance might be nightmarish to those who ignore his presence, but Anika grew up with him by her side, so she's more than used to the shadow tendrils spreading their reach on occasion, and the alien cracked skull that is his mask. It doesn't resemble any known living creature, and the shape of the mandible doesn't seem to match the one of its cranium at all, nor it seems able to move other than little tilts. And yet, his voice is deep and clear, collected and somewhat stern when he speaks, only to be cracked with sincere affection towards Anika when the fatherly attitude takes over the entity.

But who is he, really? Anika was promised an explaination in her youth when the time would be right; but the pressing investigations of a marine ally of her former party forced a complicated truth out, risking the wrath of the angels of Drana, the goddess of Light and first of the Erasian pantheon, who so strongly fought to banish him from existence centuries prior.

The water genasi known as Mikatosh, cleric of Rovan, now lies petrified at the bottom of a lake close to the city of Bazel, in Derum. He sealed a promise with the Deep One, Anika, and Eksirias, a powerful Seer that watches over Maera with the strongest forces of the continent: when the knowledge he gathered is safe to have, the Patron and his daughter will personally find him again to undo the curse and give him back his humanity, so that everyone can safely continue their lives on. Of course, such secrets were shared with Anika in hopes that she could become aware of the reality she was involved in: a special protection was applied to her instead, so that she could carry the secrets without being detected by the divine, and without losing her chance at fulfilling the pact she still strongly believes in. Besides, it doesn't matter who the Deep One used to be in his past life to her - not to the extent of turning her back on him and stand against him despite his real identity. She is still very much convinced of wanting her father in the physical world, enough to give part of her divine blood and her wings up to the cause during a special ritual which involved more than 30 people.

Today, she can proudly summon a tangible version of the phantom by her side, and fighting together has deepened their bond even further. (Summoner class of Pathfinder 2e was the best replacement for the Warlock, keeping the lore intact and developing it so delightfully~)

More fun facts:

~ At the beginning of their journey, when Anika was still a teen, she went through a phase of rebellion towards the Deep One because of the feeling of being just used. On multiple occasions, however, the Deep One proved his strong bond by putting himself inbetween her and danger: while it might have been a matter of interest over all in early times, he certainly proved his attachment when he and Eksirias saved her from insanity after being forced through a ceremony by an unknown cult praising Void, chaos and destruction. She has been calling him father since, and Eksirias a mother, despite her relationship with her is far less developed than the one with him.

~ While her duties tripled in depth, Anika often finds time to chat with the Deep One about matters of all kind, also personal ones now that she's allowed to discuss his past and condition. Her curiosity and thirst for knowledge have known little boundaries so far, and he's been happy to indulge ever since.

There is much more about him to uncover, but I'll leave you to find the details out one by one. Ask the right questions, dear Anon; pry into forbidden matters at your own risk, but don't leave any ask unanswered~

[honourablejester]

Homebrew Deity Conversions for Pathfinder 2e (Part 1)

I figured I’d just try the conversions from D&D 5e to PF 2eand see how it went. I think I’ll do these in blocks because they’re a bit longer and more involved than the D&D 5e versions, and I’ll leave out Boons/Curses for the moment to come back to later. So. Let’s start with six of my homebrew deities. Four of what I think of as the ‘primal’ deities of the pantheon. Not in the Pathfinder tradition sense, but in the ‘dawn of the world’ sense. Leithal, Iskuur, Nuissas and Ket. And the two equally primal deities of magic, Oromasdes and Immara.

(I should mention, Nuissas is a major god, not minor, she just got put at the bottom of the original list by mistake. I’ll get around to editing that)

(Reposting with some edits)

Part 1: Primal Deities, Part 2: Deities of Grave and Boundary, Part 3: Deities of Civilisation, Part 4: Evil Deities

LEITHAL, THE VERDANT SWELL

Chaotic Good Goddess of Earth, Nature and Life

Realm: The Green Well

Allies: Iskuur, Oromasdes, Deima, Doram, Heein-Sheein, Nuissas

Enemies: Iletal

Relationships: Deima (subordinate and friend), Oromasdes (a partnership of earth and sun), Iskuur (her partner in elemental might)

Worshippers: Druids, farmers, gatherers, healers, relief workers

Sacred Colours: Green, Gold

Symbol: Ivy Vine

Leithal is the font of life, the raw well of energy at the heart of the earth. She is the font, the upspring, the green outrush from the seed to the tree. Unchecked abundance, the chaotic bloom of vitality. She feeds all, she shelters all, she strengthens all. Her heart beats in earth and soil, her breath spreads seeds across the land. She is the vast forest, the ripe field, the tiny flower blooming among the stone. She offers boundless nuture. Life is her only goal, and all living things may beg healing, strength and shelter from her. Even the undead, should they only preserve themselves and not seek the destruction of life, need not fear her. She has unending patience and limitless strength. All will return to her eventually. She is the root of the cycle, life to death to life again. She fears nothing, only pours her strength and her joy and her vitality out into the world. Annihilation is her only enemy, and she fears it not at all. So long as even a seed survives the fire, all the world will bloom again at her command.

Edicts: Encourage life and joy, give freely and generously, foster strength and growth.

Anathema: Starve or deprive others, burn or blight the world, heal or help someone only to torture them further later.

Follower Alignments: Chaotic Good, Chaotic Neutral, Neutral Good, Neutral

DEVOTEE BENEFITS

Divine Ability: Constitution or Wisdom

Divine Font: Heal

Divine Skill: Nature

Favoured Weapon: Scythe

Domains: Earth, Healing, Nature, Passion

Cleric Spells: 1st Summon Plant or Fungus, 2nd Entangle, 4th Spike Stones

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

ISKUUR, THE STORM LORD

Chaotic Neutral God of Storms, Seas, Freedom and Might

Realm: Cloud Galleon

Allies: Leithal, Immara, Weyloun, Orem, Yorm, Heein-Sheein

Enemies: Iletal, Borkh, sometimes Ineia

Relationships: Leithal (partner deity), Weyloun (blood brother), Immara (shared domain), Ineia (extremely contentious relationship, particularly where land-based civilisation encroach on the sea)

Worshippers: Whalers, spear-fishers, pirates, rebels, slaves

Sacred Animal: Kraken

Sacred Colours: Bronze and Grey

Symbol: Sea Wall Broken By Wave

Iskuur is a god of seas and storms and chaos, a sinker of ships. A god whose emblem is a shattered sea wall, a symbol of landbound authority sundered by his might. A god of sunken ships and broken chains, and freedom defended by might. He strongly opposes slavery, tyranny, and the restriction of free will, but also organised navies, sea defenses, and the rule of law. He has a mixed approach to fisherpeople, favouring spear fishers but violently disliking net/trap fishers, and many fishing ships pray to other sea gods for protection from him. Iskuur is a god who emphasises survival, endurance and freedom above all, and while he powerfully opposes physical constraints on a person’s will, such as captivity, that is nothing to how he opposes psychological or magical assaults on will. If you would impose your authority on another’s will in the presence of Iskuur or any of his devout, you may expect the storm, the lightning, or the wave.

Edicts: Preserve freedom, shatter bounds, strike down slavery. Do not fish with nets. Prove your devotion to freedom.

Anathema: Enslave others, overwrite another's will, attempt to wall and tame the ocean.

Follower Alignments: Chaotic Good, Chaotic Neutral, Chaotic Evil

DEVOTEE BENEFITS

Divine Ability: Constitution or Strength

Divine Font: Heal or Harm

Divine Skill: Survival

Favoured Weapon: Javelin

Domains: Air, Freedom, Lightning, Water

Cleric Spells: 1st Feather Fall, 3rd Crashing Wave, 6th Chain Lightning

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

NUISSAS, THE EYELESS MOTHER

Neutral Goddess of Darkness, Peace and Shelter

Realm: The Night Road

Allies: Immara, Elaia Siveth, Yorm, Orem, Deima, Doram

Enemies: Sometimes Oromasdes and Gorbalune

Relationships: Immara (favoured daughter), Leithal (favoured daughter), Orem (adoptive nephew that she sweetly enjoys the antics of)

Worshippers: Dwarves, miners, healers, anyone in search of rest

Sacred Animal: Cave fish

Sacred Colours: Black

Symbol: An Eyeless Fish/An Eyeless Dragon/A Black Cup

Nuissas is the Mother Night, the primal darkness, the black void that cradled creation. Before there was anything, there was Nuissas, and after all light fades, there will be Nuissas still. She is Eyeless, for when she came into being there was not yet light. Yet creation, the seeding of light in her darkness, the eruption of life and light and magic, was not an affront to the Mother Night. Light and life are angry, energetic things, that must spend themselves until they fade. The darkness is eternal, ever-patient, and so is Nuissas. She coils herself around them, above and beneath and through them, and bears them gently up until they are spent. The Mother Night is the goddess of night, of primal darkness, of void, of shadow, of the blackness of those depths where light has never reached. She is the sacred darkness that shelters and shields, and the patient abyss to which all light returns. Her worshippers are those who dwell in darkness and those who revere the night, who ask for her protection and patience and the shelter of her shadow, for she is pleased to grant it. When she appears to them, her form is always eyeless, and rarely humanoid. Most commonly, it is said that she takes the shape of a vast abyssal fish, or a black, eyeless dragon, coiling around and beneath the world, through the depths where darkness lies deepest and most sacred.

Edicts: Embrace and embody the darkness, know and share peace

Anathema: Bring light or violence to her sacred places

Follower Alignments: Neutral, Neutral Good, Lawful Neutral

DEVOTEE BENEFITS

Divine Ability: Intelligence or Wisdom

Divine Font: Heal

Divine Skill: Stealth

Favoured Weapon: Spear

Domains: Darkness, Repose, Secrecy, Void

Cleric Spells: 1st Penumbral Shroud, 3rd Nondetection, 4th Private Sanctum, 6th Blanket of Stars

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

KET, THE FIRST AND FORMLESS

Chaotic Evil Deity of Evil, Whispers and Desires

Realm: Unknown

Allies: None

Enemies: Unknown

Relationships: None known

Worshippers: Few open, but Ket urges limitless indulgence of your own whims

Sacred Colours: Red and White

Symbol: Red Dot On White Disc

The thing called Ket is the first and formless evil of the world. It is the first spark of malice, the first selfish thought, the first swell of violence. It is the whispering at the back of every mind, the nudge to embrace your urges, indulge your whims, feed your hungers. Ket has neither face nor form. It holds itself part of everything, the potential for corruption lurking in even the purest of souls. There are many that doubt Ket even exists, viewing those who claim to worship it as simply seeking an excuse for their own failings. But even gods have heard Ket’s whisperings, and trembled at the thought that they are naught but their own failings murmuring back at them. Thus even the purest might cling to the worship or at least acknowledgement of Ket, for if Ket is not a deity, if Ket does not exist, then where can these whispers come from? If evil has no external source, who is our enemy but ourselves?

Edicts: Act as you please, embrace your desires, put yourself first

Anathema: Sacrifice something you want for someone else, put someone else's desires before your own

Follower Alignments: Chaotic Evil, Chaotic Neutral, Neutral Evil, Neutral

DEVOTEE BENEFITS

Divine Ability: Charisma or Intelligence

Divine Font: Harm

Divine Skill: Diplomacy

Favoured Weapon: Sling

Domains: Freedom, Indulgence, Passion, Trickery

Cleric Spells: 1st Charm, 3rd Moth's Supper, 4th Suggestion

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

OROMASDES, LORD OF WISDOM

Lawful Good God of Light, Truth, Knowledge and Magic

Realm: Sunstone Tower

Allies: Immara, Yorm, Ineia, Weyloun, Gorbalune

Enemies: Borkh (shared concerns but opposed morals), Ket (Oromasdes is one of the few deities truly searching for Ket and the truth of its existence)

Relationships: Immara (his subtle complement), Ineia (partner in civilisation)

Worshippers: Magic users, judges, truth-seekers, diviners, watchmen, sages

Sacred Animal: Hawks and Peacocks

Sacred Colours: Gold, Yellow

Symbol: Holy Fire

The Holy Fire, the Light of Truth, the All-Seeing. One of the first and oldest gods, Oromasdes is the god of the sun, of light, of magic, of truth, and of judgement. His is the all-seeing eye, the font of knowledge, the burning fire of inspiration. He favours the magics of divination and truth-seeking, and the cleansing fires of judgement and renewal. Those who seek knowledge, truth, or the wisdom to make good judgements pray to him. He is the god of diviners, watchmen, researchers and intelligence agents, and also the god of judges, sages and scholars. Oromasdes is not opposed to lies or trickery in the pursuit of noble goals, but self-delusion and the destruction or denial of knowledge are the greatest of faults in his eyes.

Edicts: Learn and spread knowledge, discern the truth, shed light on falsehoods

Anathema: Destroy knowledge, lie for anything less than a righteous cause, deny the truth to yourself

Follower Alignments: Lawful Good, Neutral Good, Lawful Neutral

DEVOTEE BENEFITS

Divine Ability: Intelligence or Wisdom

Divine Font: Heal or Harm

Divine Skill: Arcana

Favoured Weapon: Staff

Domains: Fate, Knowledge, Magic, Sun, Truth

Cleric Spells: 1st Share Lore, 2nd Comprehend Language, 3rd Fireball, 5th Mind Probe, 8th Unrelenting Observation

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

IMMARA, THE DREAMING OCEAN

Neutral Goddess of Dreams, Prophecies, Mysteries, the Moon and the Ocean

Realm: Dreaming Moon

Allies: Oromasdes, Iskuur, Nuissas

Enemies: Borkh, Gahlingeir

Relationships: Oromasdes (her sweet partner), Iskuur (passionate brother-of-the-soul)

Worshippers: dreamers, poets, oracles, sailors, explorers

Sacred Animal: Octopus

Sacred Colours: Black and Silver

Symbol: Moonrise Over Ocean

Immara is the dreaming goddess of the deep, the goddess of moon and tide, of dreams and prophecy, of shipwrecks and forgotten mysteries. She is the goddess of mist and storm, of flotsam and jetsam, of messages in bottles. She is the dreaming ocean, the tides of history moving across a fathomless, forgotten deep. She is the siren call of the sea, stirring souls to seek hidden things. Immara is not a goddess favoured of sailors and fishermen, her call too strange and entrancing. Instead, she is the goddess of omens and tides, of seekers and prophets, dreamers and explorers. Those who dive ocean wrecks, seek sunken cities, or dream strange dreams in the ocean mist. Her worship is scattered, and individual, her prophets and her priests coming to her often through their dreams, but many who hope for good omens or fortune on the waves might still give an offering of rice wine or moonstones in her name, spilled or thrown into the sea at moonrise.

Edicts: Travel. Dream. Experience. Learn. Whisper.

Anathema: Refuse to learn or explore, ignore instincts and dreams, refuse to acknowledge fate.

Follower Alignments: Neutral, Neutral Good, Chaotic Neutral, Neutral Evil

DEVOTEE BENEFITS

Divine Ability: Intelligence or Wisdom

Divine Font: Harm or Heal

Divine Skill: Occultism

Favoured Weapon: Sickle

Domains: Dreams, Fate, Magic, Moon, Water

Cleric Spells: 1st Anticipate Peril, 4th Phantasmal Killer, 5th Mariners Curse, 7th Retrocognition, 8th Dream Council

[atwilightghoul]

// Character info!

// migrated from @ atwilightghoul on Twitter

Name: Aster

Element: multi-ghoul [light(can extend to lightning) and shadow, touches of earth(mostly plants)]

Pronouns: he/they

Height: 5'10" ?

Sexuality: doesn't focus on a label, is attracted to men the most often

Theme song: Cult of Dionysus by The Orion Experience

Personality:

Shy at first, but playful once he opens up

CAN be quick to temper

Romantic and dramatic

Theatrical and fruity

Loves nature, music, literature, folklore, drinking, and smoking

VERY protective of loved ones

A little mischievous but also loyal

Miscellaneous:

Speaks many Mediterranean dialects and hints of other languages including Arabic, Hebrew, and Sanskrit

Has definitely participated in more than a few orgies

His infernal form resembles a satyr/faun with the lower half of a black goat. His hair has more of a purple shimmer to it, and gold covers his fingertips, horn tips, and the bottoms of his hooves. Ivy/grapevines/bindweed tangle through his hair, around his horns, and generally all over his body.

Since his infernal form has hooves he has the habit of walking on his toes even when glamoured

His mask is actually just an Era 0 mask, but he broke and altered it himself

Is madly in love with Terzo

Powers:

Shapeshifting: his shadow element allows him to take on the form of a shadow. But it isn't perfect, it's much more solid with smoky wisps emanating from him. His more frequent manner of shapeshifting is his ability to turn into a panther (specifically a leopard). It's much larger than a normal leopard, and there are visible golden remnants of the markings. He also retains his gold claws and black sclera in this form, which are his giveaways to tell that it's him

Shadow manipulation: like his ability to turn into a shadow, he can manipulate shadow into something more solid, able to grab things and interact physically, as well as the shape or size of the shadow

Light manipulation: less physical than shadow, but he can dim or brighten light and generate it himself. Not used often

Plant manipulation: harder for him to do, and it's not as extensive, but he can aid in the growth of plants or make them die and has minor control over the movement

Beast tamer: less of a power and more so just his natural gift to communicate with animals

Night vision: his eyes glow and it's not just for show; he can see in the dark very well

Infernal Euios: ability to amplify voice, mimic voice, throw voice to other locations, and multiple voice

Lore:

Aster was born in the Ancient Roman/Byzantine Empire but was considered Greek. He speaks Latin and Koine Greek as his first languages, but over time has also learned modern Greek, Italian, and English fairly fluently. He was raised somewhat communally by his community and his adoptive mother, the daughter of a priestess of Bacchus/Dionysus. He was always trained to one day become a priest of the cult himself, and he succeeded in doing so. It was a bittersweet ascension, though. The previous priestess, his adoptive grandmother, died but her daughter saw potential in more potential in Aster than herself. She felt he had a special gift and was destined for it. So, while it was unusual for a Bacchante to be a male priest rather than priestess, and it was even more unusual that he was so young, he became priest.

The traditions of the Greek and Roman pantheons were phasing out with the spread of Christianity, and the specific era (and area) he existed in was experiencing efforts to either convert or eradicate pagan temples and practices. It wasn't always enforced by actual government authority, but Aster's cult was being targeted (mostly by the local citizens). After the locals did some "vigilante justice" on their temple, Aster's followers tried to retaliate but it turned into a riot of sorts. Aster was killed by an injury to the chest (unknown if blunt force trauma, piercing trauma, or both), and his surviving followers fled with his body to the mountains to lay him to rest. He became Bacchante at 19 and died ten years later.

That fourth picture at the end is his funerary portrait, which the Ministry obtained before it could go anywhere else and it is now being displayed with other artifacts in the church. It looks much more aged, has deteriorating edges and is a little fragmented, but it was mostly recovered.

Lucifer, touched by his rebellion to the Christians and his worship of a god that is linked to himself, came to his body and carried his soul to his underworld realm where he was reborn as a ghoul. Because he was alive during the transition between the Greek/Roman pantheons and Christianity as well as being Greek under Roman rule, although he was reborn in Hell he was able to move freely between Hell and Tartarus.

He was first summoned by Papa Nihil to be a musical mentor to any future project ghouls and his sons, teaching them music, poetry, history, and all manners of mythology/folklore/theology in early adulthood. There was a caveat, though. In those early days, the Ministry didn't want any ghouls rebelling and they feared Aster's skills for persuasion and inspiration. He wasn't allowed to room with the other ghouls, instead being sequestered from the ghouls' wing and put in his own room. It was basically a storage room in the band's practice room. Because of this he didn't really bond with the other ghouls and spent most of his time drowning in wine. The Papas, though, he bonded with very closely.

He taught Primo all manners of horticulture, and the two bonded over it. Secondo he was a bit of a safe space for, as the two shared their darker moments and heavy depression.

But Terzo was special to him, a true lover. They just clicked. They shared their first kiss near a patch of poppy flowers growing in the Ministry gardens, so Aster gave him the nickname "Poppy" (papavero, papavero mio, fiore papavero mio, etc).

[starry-skies-116]

Mutant!Afton Children AU- Part 2: An Unprecedented Omen

Colors. Numbers. Cacophony of light and sound, warmth and cold- the nectarous, cloyingly thick and bittersweet taste of life and death and rebirth.

Only those met him.

Only dreams and ballads of abstract feeling and the vast unknown, not the nightmares that wished ill fate upon him so.

Evan knows that the soul can take on many forms- one moment he lays upon the ornate throne above of which he rightfully claimed, with subjects of his own creation bowing at his feet- another moment he is a spirit adrift through dilapidated halls, heart awash with sorrow- glimpsing familiar faces in the mist lost to time, just out of reach as he searched for love- for memories of family and different lifetimes.

There are many bodies he takes across the ages, mortal yet immortal, the same being living many a lifetime- a simple prokaryotic organism, diminutive and miniscule and insignificant, so unassuming as to pass the hours swimming so happily in the pond it was born. And with the other forms he took- a butterfly, a bird, a spirit, an unnatural and immortal extolled beast that was perfect in every way- his heart began to grow warmer with every slow beat, trembling and unfolding gradually into full consciousness with every story imparted unto him.

There are many sights he sees, that have been and yet never were, and yet also were- the Gardens of Babylon, the Pantheon, the greatest and mightest of pyramids- even the beginnings of new universes and wonderful incarnations of existence, destined to end only to begin yet again. The memory hadn’t all but left him- there were fragments, droplets within as he were left with trembling echoes that could be reawakened at the will of the forces greater than his form, every planet and star and celestial body reflected in the sky a shard of memory.

Time stretches out, elastic and ever-bendable, wrinkled and yet not broken like the eggshell it was rumored to be- the moment, the moment, playing and replaying in his head, the echoes of the pasts and a billion thousand hundred million presents and futures before him all at once. Yet the moment, that moment- the screams, the crunch, the grinding of the gears and the insistence of the thousand-voiced, disembodied whispers won’t get out of his head.

“Stop… stop!” he begs.

The raw, sheer power thrumming like rage and heat and a writhing monster incarnate dwelling beneath his bones and flesh and very soul, awakening from the once dormant state and now rearing its head, roaring and wailing to be set free, oh so gloriously free. It chants, practically sings Evan’s name with a reverence, an utter defiance due a king, a god- a reverence that forces his heart to soar and swell with a strange, dangerous pride of loving such worship as he found himself wanting, demanding more.

Lightning quelled and oceans vaporize, the heavens and the earth devastated and rent asunder, every part of him could feel the phantasmal sensation of ascension beneath his fingertips- ever growing as he crossed into the state of enlightenment others so desperately sought, the light thrumming, growing stronger, stronger, yet even stronger inside…

“... Ev… w… up…!”

The gentle, distorted flutter of a butterfly’s wings. The crescendo of the chants and choir in his name, a dark and lilting ballad, melodiously sharp and foreign in tongue yet somehow recognizable as an ode to him. The burning of a triskele’s crest before his eyes, the constellation of the same emblem ablaze in the star-speckled sky.

“Wa…ke up…!”

The tilt of a brow and the head. The grinding of the gears of fate- the bloom of a flower akin to moments before his eyes, stretching out into ages upon aeons into an infinity heretofore lived yet never seen. Arms spread wide, the incessant ticking of a clock now reversed, the trickling of scarlet sands of the dunes falling to the bottom of the hourglass, only for the peculiar device to be turned on its head upside down once more.

Time- once before he had no time. Now, all the time in the world was at his beck and call, the phantasmal sensation beneath his fingertips like the slick, pulsating wet heart of a slumbering titan.

It swayed, ever so flattered, into his favor, such sublime, celestial power at his disposal, tempting, caressing, beckoning to him and from within…

As if it were now his muse. 

As if it were a part of him… as if he and it were one…

“Wake up, Evan, damnit!”

H-huh!?

Evan didn’t even know about the shriek and the exclamation resembling that of a cry of indignation that left his mouth until the moment had passed, and the sudden exhaustion that sagged him down, seeping into his bones and rendering him bedridden- incapacitated, he even daresay.

“Blast-!” he shrieks, feeling the shuddering convulsion of muscles at last leave his body as he cranes his neck- it was the only place where he wasn’t essentially paralyzed. Sweat trickles down his neck as a familiar feverish sensation greets him- was it a cold, mayhaps? Flu? Chills? Was that why he had fainted and received such peculiar dreams, perhaps?

Michael interrupts his train of thought by basically tackling him, violently grabbing him by the fabric of his shoulders and shaking him. “What the hell happened to you? You got us both grounded, and now you’ve the gall to be having a seizure and mumbling some nonsense to yourself in your sleep, in addition to a bloody fever? You do know that Mum and Lizbeth are in one helluva state over your welfare, right?”

Utterly puzzled, the confused gaze of tired and dark, glimmering compound eyes glance back into warm ocean blue ones. “Ah… how long have I slept, then?” Evan murmurs as a haphazardly strung together question, brain quite not working as he glances back to the window, the sky no longer reflecting the sun’s early evening afterglow. “Oho, it’s duskfall,” he utters, gaze slightly widening. “I’ve only been knocked out for around an hour or two, I suppose.”

“An hour or two?” Michael hisses, glaring at him with the sparkle of a legitimately concerned expression- and for a moment, Evan thinks he’s hallucinating- no way can Michael ever care for the unrequited love his younger brother showed unless it was out of obligation, can’t he?

“You were asleep for an entire fortnight and then some, you bloody sod- you would’ve been out cold and sick tonight, too, had you not awoken when you did,” Michael hisses, and the truth of the revelation gives the younger one a rather unceremonious reality check as he blinks a couple of times to process the information.

Almost an entire day? Say it is not so.

“Wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to dub me comatose, then…!” the brunette murmurs, fingers subconsciously ghosting over the fabric of his shirt as Elizabeth peeks into the room, tucking a lock of ginger hair behind one ear and carrying a glass of water in the other as his younger sister scurried towards him. “You’re not wrong, and neither is he.”

Curious and worried green eyes stare up at him, and Evan cannot help but feel a familiar fondness for her, in the form of a glimmer returning to his gentle, curved eyes, and a protective tenderness inching into his demeanor- his every movement and touch, making itself known. “Why were you asleep for so long, Ev…? Mummy’s crying over you… she’s been praying every day for you, so that you can get better,” she babbles out hoarsely, tone packaged with the curiosity and unconditional concern due with the innocence that came with youth. “Y-you were even talking and crying in your sleep…! P-Please don’t scare us like t-that…!”

Her voice borders on the edge of a wail, and Evan takes her straight into his arms, wrapping her in a snug and comforting embrace, finding refuge in her presence alone. “There there, Liz… I’m quite alright, now, I assure you- though I’m still most likely bedridden due to how ailing I still am. Had anything occurred while I was asleep?”

Michael quirks an eyebrow, a rather amused smile crossing his lips. “It’s unsettling to even recall,” he grumbles. Elizabeth nods, adjusting the scarlet bow in her hair. “It was honestly terrifying and super wierd,” she recounts. “Every time you spoke or moved in your sleep, weird things would begin to happen- the mini fountain outside Uncle Henry’s house would stop flowing, windows would look broken only to ‘patch themselves up’ when we looked back, night and day today ended three hours later than it was supposed to, weird constellations and meteor showers and planets appeared in the sky- which looked like the hyperspace travel scenes from Star Wars, might I add… it was scary.”

“She cried,” the oldest among them muses once more, his signature smirk donned upon his face to which Elizabeth immediately protests in response. “Excuse you! I did not!” she hisses. 

“Did too,” Michael replies simply, sticking out his tongue rather childishly, to which their mother storms into the room. “The both of you, stop overwhelming him with your bickering,” Eleanor reprimands before proceeding to gently cup Evan’s face as if he were made of the most fragile of porcelain. “My sweet baby… I thought you would never wake up…!” she sobs out.

The boy was still all too stunned to speak. The fabric of reality itself had bent and wrinkled whilst I was asleep? The cycles of night and day being thrown off lightly, time involuntarily stopping the flow of water nearby?

The prophetic dream returns to his mind, the grinding of the gears, the faint whispers and the sand in the bottom half of the hourglass- such an unfamiliar sight, yet a sight that he felt belonged to him as he watched, paralyzed, limbs frozen and eyes transfixed as the spectacle pulled him steadily out of the dark cycle he was trapped in, and into the light of a higher revelation.

That basically confirmed all his suspicions. This wasn’t some feverish dream in the slightest, he thinks to himself as the faint sensation of consolidated time itself flickers in between his fingertips, not visible yet still known only to him, within and around him.

I actually have superpowers. What the fuck?

“Oh, no… suddenly I think I’m quite ravenous,” Evan finds himself blurting out as some sort of excuse- his stomach was indeed roiling from within, yet he barely found it within himself to rise from the couch due to just how simply exhausted he was. “I haven’t eaten for an entire night and then some, after all… right? You must be as well? Come now, then- we should fetch something for all of us.”

“What’s with trying to dodge the question?” Michael grumbles, rolling his eyes to which Elizabeth swiftly elbows him as a response and shoots eye daggers in his direction. “You hadn’t heard him? He’s starving and tired! Have some basic human decency, at least!” she chides before scurrying off to the kitchen.

Eleanor’s jade eyes gazed into Evan’s once more, narrowed in concern. “You sure you’re okay?” she asks, to which Evan sighs and smiles the best lopsided grin he could muster. “Your concern means so much to me, Mother… but I’ll be fine, thank you.”

He wasn’t all that fine to begin with… but the premonitions continue to whisper to him visions of the future- that in this lifetime, things were about to change and take a turn for the more interesting.

Whether it be for good or bad… well, hah- who shall ever know until the moment comes to pass? All he knows is that this power shall make him swear to cut a path that was his very own.

What life shall we all live this time?

***

Author’s Note: Short ass chapter go brrrr- but the next part is going to be vERY interesting, I promise you that!

[seashellblue]

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle (Part 6)

Free story ideas, spread freely, for free!

Click here if you want a better explanation of what's going on here.

Latest story under the cut ~

Alright I said three mermaid stories but I'm splitting this one in to two because there's too much. On the plus side, there's actually art for this one!

I'll have the main plot and art for The Undertow in here, and some additional worldbuilding notes in the next post.

Here we go:

Another iteration of The Undertow, this current one retains some elements from the previous versions that being:

Sier and Intei, always

Sier has a really evil ability, and it causes him a lot of problems even though he isn’t really responsible

Intei is the main character

Now the setting is a full mer-world, entirely fictional but equally fun. The broad strokes of the story is that Intei finds the amnesiac Sier, who has some really suspicious magical tattoos that nobody’s seen before. Turns out they’re the markings of a fallen god called Renis, and a sign that she’s starting to put into motion a plan to destroy all merkind.

Intei, for a reason I was never able to decide on, is chosen by another more powerful god called Esa to visit every other member of the pantheon to get a powerup, which all together will allow her to defeat Renis once and for all. Que eternal fetch quest.

Each god had a mini-challenge whether intentional or not. Esa was first, and her challenge was whatever reason Intei was chosen in the first place, giving her the ability to bear the markings of all the other gods. I don’t remember the rest of the order. But I do know what happens for some of the gods, and that Caeon was last, so I’ll do a list.

Cosmirn, don’t have anything for this one, but I just thought of an attack by spies, which I thought would be thematically appropriate considering Cosmirn’s aesthetic

Vaal, a big part of Vaal’s characterization is that he used to be a hero, but he quit once the threat of death was brought to the table, so this “challenge” would be Intei diving into his memories to learn why and convince Vaal to become a hero again, with the out-of-universe goal of both characterizing mer mythology and Renis herself

Bahret, I know that this one comes after Vaal, and that part of it might have been a message from Vaal to Bahret apologizing for being away for so long (the two used to be legendary heroes together), and it wasn’t that he stopped caring about her, it was just that he was afraid

Elos, don’t have much, but I do know that I liked that idea that Elos would transform into Intei’s sister Eidena because I thought it could be an interesting character moment, Intei’s unease and discomfort

Lotrivi, I think this challenge involved someone getting poisoned and they have to find Lotrivi, as he can cure all ailments

Ceilgar, since Ceilgar lives in an icy realm, her challenge is actually making it to her palace without freezing to death, a feat accomplished through the use of Vaal’s powerup, which is a fire/heat ability. Once Intei and Sier actually meet Ceilgar, the rest of their interaction mostly consisted of Ceilgar explaining that she used to know Renis before everything went wrong, and how she blames herself for not diverting Renis from her villainous path

Caeon, the final fetch quest is traveling to the bottom of the ocean, where Caeon resides, a living portal to the afterlife. Don’t know what the challenge is, don’t like the idea of them entering the afterlife portal, do know that afterwards they get to have an interesting conversation and get pointed in the direction of Renis’ island to complete their quest

Final confrontation time at Renis’ island. Except it turns out Sier was an unknowing traitor the entire time. He’s actually a magical experiment of Renis’ cult, who grew up under a different name and everything. The entire plan was that not-Sier would pretend to escape from Renis’ island, then get a mer to bring essences from all the other gods to Renis so she can use them to destroy the mer, as stealing them herself would raise suspicion. After Renis’ forces capture Intei, she escapes by having an emotional conversation with Sier where she frees him of Renis’ control, and he stalls for time while she climbs to the top of Renis’ island. The reason for this is that a big part of the defeating Renis quest is trying to destroy her true heart, which is supposedly hidden in the labyrinth at the center of her island, however, Intei correctly reasons that as a semi-sky god, Renis would have in fact hidden it at the peak of the mountains island.

Happy-ish ending from there, Renis is freed of her corruption, the cultists are defeated, but something interesting happens. Turns out, Sier isn’t just a weird mer experiment, he’s a weird mer-harpy experiment. There are three other regions to the world, so in addition to the gods of the sea, there are the gods of the sand, soil and sky, corresponding to water, fire, earth and air. Sier was a weird, one in a million success in sky-sea soul splicing, done for nefarious reasons.

From there, I half-thought out a hypothetical sequel which would chronicle Sier bringing the dead god Petrian’s heart into the depths of the sands to revive them and reconciling with the fact he’s a harpy, and also dealing with an entire cult-member past he doesn’t remember. Along the way he meets another harpy and there’s a character dynamic where Pastel (working name) wants to know all about this mysterious stranger they met and Sier has to pretend he knows all about being a harpy while stealth-asking questions in order to learn more about harpy culture, which in turn is used to better bluff that he’s a harpy. Tiny side not about Pastel and harpy culture, I like to imagine that like with real life birds, harpies associate bright colours with masculinity and faded colours with femininity, and in turn, Pastel’s pastel aesthetic is a symbol of them being nonbinary, which is not the only thing they are, but I don’t want to forget that.

As for plot events in the hypothetical sand sequel, there’s obviously a scene where Pastel and Sier meet, that's for sure. I think after that things get a little nonlinear, as getting to Petrian’s oasis happens really early in the story, but things go wrong, as Sier’s essence is too similar to Renis’ (due to being her experiment), and the black puddle that is what remains of Petrian attacks him. 

From there I imagined one possible scene, which I never really liked, but will include here so that I have absolutely everything written down. Basically Sier is dying and both he and Pastel are miles away from anyone who could help him, except it turns out there’s a nearby temple to the sky god of death, and a medusa who was staying there saw everything, and helps lead them there. While this is happening, Sier gets an in-person visit from the death god himself, Hadet, who notes that his soul is very unusual, and that Hadet and the sky gods could never reach him before, due to Renis’ influence. Then switches to Pastel and the medusa in the death temple, and back to Sier who is actually very dead, but before he can really process that Hadet makes a deal with him. Now, there are two different versions of the deal I imagined, still don’t like either of them, but I dislike the first idea the most, that being Sier makes a deal that he gets to live long enough to finish his quest, but then he has to die for real, before he could even tell Intei what happened. You can see why I dislike it so much. Second version of the deal is that he gives up the Mer half of his soul.

Another interesting thing about “the mer half of his soul.” I thought way too much about soul mechanics, and what I ended up with is that Sier doesn’t have a hybrid soul, he has two, Renis wanted to keep him separate from the sea gods, but also needed to have him interact with mer and breathe underwater and stuff. So the big problem for Sier becomes dealing with his second soul, which was actually the one who was in control while Sier was following Renis’ orders as a part of the cult. Because I like to somewhat maintain the sanctity of death in my stories, I thought an appropriate consequence for Sier dying would be for his mer-soul to be taken from him by Hadet before he had the chance to make peace with it and its history.

copyleft, ideas, inspiration, writing, writeblr, creative writing, fiction, free to use, textpost, original story, fantasy, fantasy art, mermaid, mermaid gods, adventure, art, character design

[littlefreya]

Stalker Walker - Part 5

Summary: A voyage to Paris in order to escape your mundane life leaves you with more than you bargained for.

[Previously on Stalker Walker]  

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Words:  1k

Warning: He’s cute and all but a stalker, mentions of sexual thoughts, mention of age gap. 

A/N: No Beta!!! He is back, and on this episode of Stalker Walker™, our dear reader has finally met with August... now I wonder, what will happen next. 

Title: Last night in Paris

It was as if the street fell utterly silent all of a sudden, save for the soft drumming of raindrops upon the thick fabric and your trembling breath no sound met your ears. The little shelter beneath his large umbrella felt like a secluded little realm and there you were, drowning on solid land, sunken into the abyss of the most stunning eyes you’ve ever seen. 

Like the heart of a cold ocean kissed by the storm, passion and hunger swam within the tall man’s gaze, deeming him even more attractive. 

Absentmindedly, you gaped, unable to determine if this was a movie, an extremely lucid dream or real life. 

He was your stranger from earlier, the elegant, well-suited man who sat alone at the cafe’, how odd it was that by chance you’d meet again? Now further hulking, he stood so close that you could taste the same brew of Columbian coffee off his breath and the mist of his stark, musky cologne engulfed from each direction like some intoxicating enchantment.

It took a while before you could find words and the hint of a smile that began to spread on his surprisingly succulent lips didn’t help your lack of coherence.

“I’ve seen you,” you finally managed and immediately wanted to throw yourself into the canal. 

Certainly, he would now think that you were some sort of a creepy stalker.

The stranger-now-turned saviour, tilted his head at you in a query while a small spark ignited his aquatic glance.  

“At the Cafe’, earlier this morning…” you explained, trying to maintain a stable tone as your voice was about to give in to the same tremor in your knees. 

The man observed your face silently, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip as he drank the sight of you in. He had to admit that you were far more fascinating in the flesh; your beauty a thing of ballads sung by knights and love poems, your scent - delicate and feral at the same time like a wild rose that grew timidly in a dark cave. 

He couldn’t wait to pluck your soft petal and drink your sweet nectar. 

“Shame,” he spoke, his baritone a smooth, low chant, “I would have offered you to join me for breakfast,” he paused and then clicked his tongue, his smile further widening, exposing two large dimples and two sharp fangs, “had you agreed to it, of course.”

In your cheeks, you felt the lick of flames. Eyes dropping to the damp cobblestone, you chuckled softly and then tucked an errant curl behind your ear. You’ve just met him 5 minutes ago and didn’t even know his name, but you were willing to leave with your bewhiskered stranger to wherever he fancied if only he’d suggest.

But this wasn’t you, you weren’t the coy, giggly girl falling for every tall handsome man with a void of a dark angel. You were the same independent woman who travelled on her own for the first time, visiting a completely new land. Yet his glare somehow held you captive in a chamber of glass which you couldn’t escape from, nor did you ever wanted. 

Unable to find the correct answer to his theoretical question, you simply shrugged and crooked an eyebrow, trying to suggest you wouldn’t have minded having breakfast, lunch, dinner and then another breakfast in bed with him the morning after. 

Moving his arm in the most elegant manner, he reached for your palm and took it in his grasp. The drum of your heart never beat louder as he leaned in to kiss the back of your hand, pressing his soft lips against your supple skin. The rough edges of his moustache scratched your hand and you had to swallow that giggle that threatened to escape your throat. 

“August,” he introduced, remaining a tad bent and only keeping his glare fixed upon yours. Smitten by his direct charm and suave charisma, you wondered about his age. He couldn’t have been older than mid-30, much older than you, no doubt, yet his manners and gestures were that of a man who was slightly old fashioned, one that treats a woman like a lady.

You scratched the back of your head awkwardly which he took as a signal to let go of your hand and stretched back to his full height.  

“August,” you repeated his name, enjoying the way it rolled on your tongue, “I am so lucky to have run into you, and have you save me from the rain. I brought an umbrella with me today but misplaced it somewhere...”

Possibly at the cafe, when you were too lost in your own gawking and fancies, though you’d be lying if you didn’t admit to yourself that you were thrilled to have lost your umbrella. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have the chance to run into August on a rainy autumn day. Perhaps it was your destiny that on the last night in Paris, you were to meet a man that made you want to do something completely outrageous. 

It was time after all…

The anticipation grew in your eyes as you stood waiting, unaware of how your body swung from side to side. If only you knew what an open book you were to a man like him, there was no need to swipe your credit card and trace your information, he picked up every twitch and flutter of your lashes, noticing how you fell into your own musings, as you did when you were alone. He wanted to browse through your pages and read each passage and syllables of your naked body, as he will have you in your own hotel bed tonight. 

Inhaling calmly, he reached for your hand again, and placed the hook of the umbrella in your grip, “you are welcome to have mine till the end of your trip, sweetheart. I’m not afraid of getting wet.”

At the arch of his brow and the drawl in his voice, you flushed, but then your heart sunk like a broken ship. The end of your trip was closer than he knew and home was nothing but a mundane little fortress of solitude, this was by far the most exciting thing that ever happened to you since forever and the fact that you’ve met him at the last night of the trip felt as if you’ve wandered from a pleasant little garden of roses into a bush full of thorns. 

Giving him a disappointed glance, you pushed the umbrella back toward him, “there is no need, that’s gonna be tomorrow morning.”

August’s brow lifted with surprise and the same disappointing tainted his eyes that now looked as soft as the eyes of a puppy. “Pity,” he pouted but then offered you another one of his endearing smiles, “perhaps then, you can hold it for me till the end of the night.” 

His hand pushed yours away gently, and he pulled back, stepping into the rain and letting the drizzle dampen his trench coat and slick hair. 

“Have a drink with me tonight.” It didn’t sound like a question nor like a suggestion but more of a fact as he took another step away from you, his hair gradually becoming tussled by the soft wind and droplets of rain. “You are staying close to the cafe’ where we met, I presume.”

“Yes,” you retorted, squeezing your fingers around the rigid metal handle, “at the Pantheon.”

Tucking his hands down the pockets of his jacket, he continued to pace away, walking backwards as if he didn’t want to say goodbye.

“I’ll see you downstairs at 8, my little rose, don’t forget my umbrella, because then I’ll have to hunt you down” he announced with a playful smirk and then turned on his feet and walked away. 

Watching him leave, you finally allowed your self to exhale loudly. A broad smile stretched your cheeks to the point of pain, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the turn of events. Even if you were to never see him again after tonight, it would still be the sweetest memory, and maybe a part of you was somewhat afraid of the commitment that could follow anyway.

You began pacing away, staring into nothing with music playing in your mind when you suddenly found it odd that he never bothered asking for your name.

*Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker or any of the Mission Impossible franchise characters*

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, my ideas or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

[twisted-in-wonderland-jay]

I love the characters as gods, can I ask this same theme for headcanons for Leona, Vil, Ace and Jamil ???

Oh my god this is so freaking fun to write! Honestly I could make an entire pantheon as well as relationships and stories based on these guys. I sincerely thank you from the bottom of my heart for this request.

“It’s tough to be a God”🎶

His godly animals are lions, and most big cats. He is however usually depict beside a wolf and a hyena symbolizing the gods who he is associated with. All cultures that worship the god Leona do so with sacrificial worship usually of a herbivore that a lion with usually hunt. He is the God of war, cats, and the desert. Be warned when worshiping this god you will give more than he will give back. Though he is quite a mighty God with high pride, he is quite lazy. Some legends depict him sleeping for almost an eternity until the end of the world when all else fails and he is the God they have to rely on. When going off to war it’s good to burn a sacrificial fire for this god and present yourself with warpaint shaped like a claw. This god has never descend upon the mortal realm. When depicted art is generally sitting not on a throne but on a rock surrounded by lions, he is also depicted as a lion, or a man with feline traits. When going into war to win his favor all of your men would simply chant “blood for the blood god” (please tell me you got the reference lol)



Vil is the embodiment of beauty taking on the shape of a person but can also be depicted as a beautiful peacock, with its head held high and its tail fanned out. Vil’s is the god of beauty but also the darker side narcissism, poison, and revenge. His symbolic animals are the Peacock and the crane, both noble animals. In some cultures he is also excepted as the god of pestilence and disease, this stems from a story of his jealousy and causing of the death of quite a few people through a poison that caused a disease to spread like wild fire. The Vil’s beautiful and enchanting one should always be on their guard around him, and never speak unless spoken to. When Vil descends upon the human world which is not often you can point him out for the man is a beautiful blonde with lavender highlights. Unnatural natural to most people but natural to a god to have purple hair. They also chooses to change the gender though rarely to female or to an androgynous state (The second is more common). Vil’s is known to hate the kind that Is Neige because most people worship him rather than Vil.

In artwork is depicted as a man with large horns and a devil‘s tail, not to be confused with Satan or the devil himself. Ace is the patron god of fun, drinking, madness, and festivals, insanity, and theater, as well as debauchery. He has no specific patron animal. Though he does have specific items that represent him such as playing cards, A chalice, and all masks. He is a god with no lovers, which is uncommon, especially for a god of fun. He’s not evil nor is he good, some say he is the cause of sin and that is evil. No specific people worship him, many around the world do however. He’s often seen alongside another god who is widely considered to be his best friend.

Jamil is a God who takes no shape, however when he does and he just stands up on the mortal realm he takes the form of your closest friend but wears a mask. The form he takes on is because of his title “The betrayer” he also goes by another title “The formless one”. Jamil is the patron god of betrayal, treachery, treason, oddly enough travel, and freedom. He is after associated with the afterlife and funerals. He is considered an evil spirit or a bad apple among god. Once a god took pity on him and reached out to become his friend, later on they would become close, but word got out that that god had took pity on him and he did not handle that well, causing him to sealing away the power from the god who took pity on Jamil. Hence the betrayer. The god took pity on him because he was alone. In part for sealing that god‘s power Jamil himself had part of his power sealed the way until the day he gave back the power he would not have his. His patron animals are the snake and Beatles, as well as many other insects. Those who worship him tend to be of the lower class enslaved by those in a higher, bandits thieves and the like. At one point even a prince who wanted the throne.

[onenerdtwonagas]

Maybe a pred x prey role-play between the two, like he's hunting his prey and trapping him in his coils~

“We have the temple to ourselves today,” Orpheus sighed.

“Mother and Father are out spending the day with Hue in the pantheon’s capitol, Anthea’s off with Vulcan, and Amosis decided to tag along with our parents.”

“Good for him; your brother doesn’t get out much,” Uriah said with a nod, tracing a hand along the stone wall.

“And it seems neither of us is busy, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Nah, Hue said I could take some time off from elemental training. He says I’m coming along pretty well, for someone who wasn’t born with powers.”

He drummed his fingers along a crack in the ancient bricks and smiled as moss sprang up beneath his hand.

“See?”

Orpheus chuckled.

“Look at you, warming up to it already!”

“It’s still weird, kind of, but I think it’s becoming more natural,” Uriah mused.

“Well, if you’re not training with Hue or one of his brothers, and I’ve got no pressing matters to attend to, what shall we do today, hmm?”

Orpheus paused in his slithering and looked down at his husband. Uriah’s mouth twisted in thought.

“Anything in mind?”

“Not necessarily,” the naga said, shrugging, “but I do feel playful.”

Uriah glanced up at him, one eyebrow rising, and then smirked as he carefully stepped around him.

“Playful, huh?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Well...you always did like a challenge... Perhaps we could see how well I’ve memorized your family’s temple?”

“You can’t outrun me, precious,” Orpheus purred, playfully leaning over Uriah’s shoulder.

“Maybe not, but I might just outsmart you,” he teased back, ducking out from under him and gesturing to the elaborate labyrinth of stone around them. “Give me a head start and I might just manage to evade you this time.”

“Testing my tracking skills? How very bold of you.”

“Is that a no?”

Orpheus rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck before smiling down at Uriah.

“Two minutes. I’d start walking, precious.”

His voice was a low growl, but his eyes sparkled with humor and keen interest. It sent a pleasant spark down Uriah’s neck. The man but back a laugh and turned on his heel, taking off down the nearest hall. Orpheus watched as he disappeared into the shadows and his footsteps faded off. Thirty seconds, a minute, a minute and a half, a minute and fifty seconds... His coils flexed once with excitement, and then he went off in the opposite direction. He knew Uriah was too smart to remain in the same pathway.

“Let’s see how far into the eastern wing my husband got...”

——

Uriah wasn’t one hundred percent certain where he’d managed to end up, but he knew he wasn’t in the central body of the temple where he’d started. He’d crossed through several of Eden’s gardens, and even tried to throw off his path by scaling walls rather than taking the direct stone walkways instead where possible. A few misleading moss tracks here, a little vine snare there—just something to try and mislead Orpheus. He would love to throw his husband off just once, as unlikely as it was. It had been...at least five minutes since his initial two minute start. Not bad, considering he’d married an apex predator.

He paused as something shifted in the distance, echoing off of the walls and floor like sand sifting through a sieve. Scales on stone. Uriah tucked himself into an alcove, hidden by a half-crumbled statue. The shifting of scales grew closer, until Uriah could hear the excited growl rumbling in Orpheus’s chest.

“I know you’re here somewhere, preciousss,” he hissed. Uriah had to stifle the shiver that extended whisper sent through him. Damn, Orpheus knew him a little too well sometimes.

“Why don’t you just make it easy and come on out, hmm? We can get to the fun part quicker that way...”

Uriah felt around the alcove and discovered a loose, palm-sized stone. He crouched down to grab it, freezing as he caught a glimpse of star-speckled scales just a few paces from his hiding spot. Biting his bottom lip, he craned his neck for a view of the hall. Several columns braced the upper level, the spaces between open to a sunken garden below. That could work.

He reared back as best as the cramped space would allow and chucked the stone through a gap in the columns. A distant crunch of foliage and a splash echoed up out of the garden. Orpheus perked, and his coils rushed across the hall as he darted to the wall. Uriah took the chance and snuck out from behind the statue, darting around the corner.

How interesting, Orpheus mused. Ripples in the water, but no other sign.

The naga tapped his claws against the closest column and glanced back over his shoulder. A confident smirk slowly spread over his lips.

“I’ll give you points for cleverness, sweetheart, but I’m not quite that gullible.”

He chuckled and turned down the next hall.

Uriah skidded into a large rounded room, an inner circle of pillars supporting the ceiling. A rotunda of sorts, on the inside. Well, he certainly couldn’t fault Orpheus’s family for taste. But the sound of scales was approaching again, and he didn’t have much time to gawk at the fading murals and old tile mosaics. He sprinted for the farthest pillar and ducked behind, tucking his limbs in close and trying to quiet his breathing.

“That was a nifty little trick you tried to pull back there, Uriah,” Orpheus called out, slipping into the chamber. “Perhaps it would’ve worked on someone else.”

Uriah tried to gauge just where Orpheus’s voice was coming from. The room produced an echo that warped his sense of auditory direction. But he knew he was close.

“Aww, no banter? I always loved our banter,” the naga pretended to pout. “You were always so good with witty comebacks.”

Uriah rolled his eyes. If he couldn’t place Orpheus, maybe he couldn’t place him either.

“Only when you didn’t fluster me to death,” Uriah finally quipped back. Orpheus chuckled.

“Mm, yes, you got the most adorable blush when I’d surprise you.”

“I like to think I’ve improved with time.”

“With your nerve and your hiding skills. I’m impressed...”

His voice sounded...fainter? Uriah realized he couldn’t hear scales sliding across stone anymore. Had Orpheus slipped out of the room? Maybe he could change his place again, buy a little more time to this game. He turned, seeing no sign of the naga in the chamber, and hesitantly traipsed out into the open, debating his options—

“...But not fooled.”

Uriah froze. He whipped around, seeing Orpheus curled around the pillar, leaning inches from his face.

“Boo.”

Uriah yelped, stumbling before Orpheus lightly pushed him back with the tip of a claw. He expected to feel the harsh stone floor beneath him, but instead a tangle of coils caught him. Orpheus’s tail laced beneath his right arm, behind his neck, and down beneath his left arm, holding him back into the swarm of cosmic scales. Uriah struggled for a moment before the strength of his husband’s coils won out, letting his head flop back against it in defeat.

“Alright, alright, you got me,” he huffed. “What’s my time? Ten minutes?”

Orpheus chuckled and hovered over him.

“Something like that. Well done.”

The tip of his tail curled beneath Uriah’s chin as he slipped a thicker coil across his lap, ensnaring him further. Uriah felt heat rushing to his face as his face was lifted upwards.

“Have I ever told you that was a good look for you?” Orpheus purred, tracing a finger along the center of Uriah’s tunic. He managed a shy smile.

“You talking about the clothes, or the coils?”

His tail slid further along Uriah’s chin, curling around his neck and flexing, just enough to tease. A soft whimper escaped him, accentuated by the increasing redness of his freckled cheeks and the growing excitement in his green eyes.

“Both,” Orpheus purred, leaning down, lips just barely out of reach. “But I think I’d like to see you in just my coils, now...”

“Well, the hunter gets to do what he wants with his prey, doesn’t he?”

Orpheus’s eyes began to glow as more of his body swarmed over Uriah.

“Oh, you know me so well.”

[wolverinesorcery]

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[nemenalya]

A comprehensive history of ritualistic tax fraud among the Dunmer

The practice of ritualistic tax fraud can be observed in three major periods throughout Dunmer history. The earliest mentions of this can be traced back to the five hundreds of the First Era, although it has been theorized extensively that tax fraud has been wide-spread throughout both the Resdayn era and the Nordic occupation of Morrowind. One especially bold colleague of mine has generated quite some uproar in the scientific community by suggesting that the Dunmeri contempt of taxes might stem from before the Velothi exodus and might have been a secondary driver for said exodus, as well as the inclusion of Mephala in the Chimeri pantheon. Few sources on Chimeri religious practices remain to this day, with many having been purposefully altered or destroyed by the Tribunal Temple, so it is unlikely that we will ever know the true origins of this practice.

One of the oldest pieces of evidence we have on the prevalence of ritualistic tax fraud is an old banner that has been found in an abandoned Velothi tomb in the Stonefalls region, which had been sealed by volcanic ash from a yet undated minor eruption. The particular weaving style has been independently dated by experts to be from the height of the Resdayn era, noticeable for what we must assume are Dwemeri influences on the technique. As this was a religious piece -quite possible featured in the temple of Ebonheart and later laid to rest with a high priestess of Mephala from the inscriptions in the tomb- the extent of Dwemer influence remains restricted to the weaving style while lacking the typical bordure.

Some debate has sprung up surrounding the usage of high quality materials and excellent weavers for what amounts to a placard with the same simple rhetoric as a pamphlet for the Imperial City arena. By now, most historians agree with Vansei’s claim that the usage of tapestries in place of placards was a show of particular devotion to the Webspinner Mephala by the major temples that could easier afford such a luxury. The writing on these would have been nonetheless kept simple to reach a vast majority of worshippers, many of whom might have sought to include the most reclusive of their gods in their devotions but lacked the proper means or understanding to do so. With the acceptance of this theory, most doubts about the authenticity of the tapestry have been abated, even if a consideration of the actual text tends to throw off students to this day.

The weaving featured the words (translated from Chimeris with the help of a Telvanni linguist of some repute who wants to remain anonymous): “Tax season is coming up! Remember to commit tax fraud in Mephala’s holy name!” The restoration of the smaller weavings at the bottom of the tapestry took additional time and resources -and the Mages Guild had been seriously debating to cut funding for the project- but was worth it for the scientific uproar it caused upon translation: “If you have further questions regarding tax fraud or other acts of worship, please consult your local priest. For a small donation, the Temple [the organisation of institutionalized worship of the Three Good Daedra among the House mer] is happy to help you with your taxes!”

The important discovery here –beyond the fact that historical daedrologists had to reconsider their classification of spheres ascribed to various Daedric Princes in the faith of the early Chimer- was the role of the temple in the previously theorized upon wide-spread practice of tax fraud. It is important to note, that unlike with the modern periods in which this practice was employed, we do not know the scope of tax fraud and subsequent losses and are unlikely to ever find a satisfying number, as our estimations of the current scopes required a variety of records, none of which have survived from the Resdayn era. Nonetheless, even conservative estimates say that at least half of all dues were never paid, with between a third and two thirds of this sum ending up in the temple coffers. As we will later discuss, this would have led to only negligible efficiency losses due to the separation of tasks between the Great Houses, the Temple, and the centralized government. It is also important to note that in recent Imperial tax seasons, almost every fifth tax declaration was fraudulent, which would leave us with a problem of a similar scope. As most Dunmer scholars in this field arrive at consistently and significantly higher estimates for cases of domestic tax fraud or tax fraud among the Dunmeri diaspora, it is likely that the ritualization of tax fraud through the Temple lead to greater welfare funds than under a fully enforced taxation system.

There are only a handful of surviving sources from the time of the collapse of Resdayn and the apotheosis of the Tribunal, and unfortunately for us none of them deal with taxation. Thus, the only thing we know from this time is that during the reordering of the Temple into the new Tribunal Temple highly ritualized tax fraud fell out of practice. This can for the most part be explained by the disappearance of a centralized secular power structure and the concurrent abolishment of taxation as a whole.

While many of the Great Houses continued to employ a system similar to taxation in all but name, there are no records of the Tribunal Temple having made similar demands. Instead, a lot of the Temple’s funds were raised through the traditional Velothi ways of donations and gifts, as well as recurrent attempts at bribery. The latter was however openly discouraged and for most of the Tribunal’s rule the use of Temple resources for personal gain was harshly punished among the clergy.

It was only after the signing of the Armistice in the late Second Era that the issue of taxation arose again, with the Empire quickly demanding a cut of local taxes and introducing new taxes and tariffs of their own. Almost instantly the practice of tax fraud picked up again, although surviving correspondence from those days indicate the absence of a ritualistic component. By the beginning of the Third Era the Tribunal Temple has verifiably gotten involved in the growing tax fraud movement, although both its political leeway and the exact religious aspects differ noticeably from the Mephala worship in the Resdayn era.

Where the [Daedric] Temple had enjoyed near impunity in the First Era in its outspokenness against certain Council decisions, and had in fact been considered a branch of power alongside the Resdaynian court of Mournhold, the Tribunal Temple’s power was limited by the terms of the Armistice. And instead of serving a common goal of caring for the Dunmer people, the Temple and the tax authorities of the Temple have opposing interests in the allocation and use of the funds raised.

As the majority of the leeway enjoyed by the province of Morrowind came from its religious practices, the problem of reintegrating organized tax fraud or avoidance into Dunmeri society sparked a mostly internal theological debate on which member of the Tribunal would be the patron of these ‘charitable acts that amount to tax fraud under Imperial laws’. The astute Dunmeris scholar might have already recognized the roughly interpreted Dunmeris colloquialism here, which hints us at the decision reached in this matter.

The debate primarily raged between three groups that can be named after different currents of belief that enjoyed popularity around that time. The Daedric Traditionalists argued that since taxation and its avoidance had been ascribed to Mephala in Chimeri worship, a resurgence of this practice should see it attributed to Vivec, who had been anticipated by Mephala. The fast growing faction of Anti-Imperialists meanwhile held that it was Almalexia who acted against the Imperial occupation, while Vivec had betrayed their people through the signing of the Armistice, and this policy should thus bear her mark. The third group involved in the argument, the Venerators, proposed a more diplomatic solution where resisting the faithlessness of taxation should be included in the canons of Saint Olms the Bold or Saint Felms the Just. For a while this idea gained traction -especially with the backing of certain high-ranking Temple members who tried to avoid any outward signs of dissent among the members of the Tribunal- but it was quickly overruled by the remainder of the Indoril clergy, many of whom had become staunch supporters of the Anti-Imperialist current.

While this discourse was largely kept out of the public knowledge, texts later attributed to various Temple officials describe a clash between the groups that resulted in a hegemony of the Anti-Imperialist current on the mainland. The Temple ranks on Vvardenfell soon became too fractured with the rise of the Dissident Priests to continue the debate, but a dogmatic rift grew between the followers of the different members of the Tribunal, especially Almalexia and Vivec.

A number of placards survive from this period, two of which have been donated to the College by Dunmer refugees formerly involved with the Tribunal Temple in an attempt to keep their faith from being forgotten in the aftermath of the Red Year. Their almost polemic messages fit well within the rhetoric and political landscape of their time; the closing years of the Tribunal’s reign and the concurrent rise of even by Dunmeri standards ultra-nationalist groups. One of the placards in our collection reads: “Taxation is Blasphemy! A true Dunmer funds the charities of the Temple, not an outlander’s coffers!” The simple strokes of the letters indicate that these were produced on a larger scale and that they were of little individual value, unlike the tapestry found in the tomb in Stonefalls. The most likely explanation for this would be that the Temple did not take a stand against taxation but instead ignored its enforcement. Imperial tax collectors might still demand these signs to be taken down, but the donor indicated that the officers rarely understood Dunmeris well enough to actually realize the contents of these placards. Indeed, both this and the other bear a close stylistic resemblance to traditional Temple banners or signs, so that they would draw little attention from outsiders.

The other placard is certainly the more interesting one when considered in conjunction with the theological debate surrounding the re-introduction of ritualistic tax fraud into the Dunmeri society. Its text - “Mother Morrowind needs You [the word is written like a name to emphasize the address] to commit tax fraud! Help drive those n’wah from our land!” – demonstrates a clear victory of the Anti-Imperialist current, and portrays a dissent among the Tribunal after the signing of the Armistice that is rarely seen. Moreover, this call has been mentioned in multiple diaries of Imperial traders or bureaucrats who found it written on their walls overnight. No records exist on any investigations into whether the perpetrators were simply local youth or possibly organized criminals.  The interested reader might enjoy Ralen’s treatise on the connections between the Tribunal Temple and various criminal organizations in the late Third Era, where she conducts further analysis of various linguistic oddities and personal correspondence between members of certain infamous groups such as the Commona Tong. Her research goes beyond the scope of this book, so we will again focus on the actions of the Temple in facilitating tax fraud instead.

Regardless of the rumours and the quite evocative placards, the Temple maintained that its involvement with the Imperial tax system solely consisted of providing advice on the proper formalities to its faithful, along with a large number of other educational or welfare services. As the Dunmer had not been subject to taxes for millennia, the idea was believed to be quite foreign to them, and the Temple only intended to help the people come to terms with the concept and the particularities of Imperial bureaucracy. This policy saw a surge in donations –generally referred to among the Dunmer as “Mother’s Grace”- that had similar effects on the Temple coffers as the openly advertised tax fraud policies of the First Era, which has formally been attributed to an increased piousness in the face of outlander presence on the holy land and as gratitude for the Tribunal’s containment of the Blight.

The disproportionally large claims for tax deductions for charitable donations also amount to nearly three times the estimated revenues of the Tribunal Temple, based off of earlier research into the scope and effectiveness of Morrowind’s religious welfare structure. Some scholars estimate that these campaigns and the subsequent spread of tax fraud among the Dunmer has bereaved the Empire of up to four fifths of the taxes it should have collected from the province since the signing of the Armistice. For this reason, most Imperial scholars are quick to label the tradition of tax fraud of any kind as a religious practice ‘a dangerous superstition’. Nonetheless, various positive effects on the scope of Temple welfare programs and subsequently on Dunmeri society as a whole have been found, which require future scholars in this field to lay aside their bias if they truly want to understand the positive or adverse effects of these practices.

After the Empire withdrew from Morrowind during the Oblivion Crisis and the Red Year saw many Dunmer displaced from their home and seeking refuge abroad, any centralized taxation system in the province vanished. With the abrupt fall of the Tribunal Temple and the resurgence of the worship of the Three Good Daedra as the Reclamations a lot of the former charity work and the previous fund raising channels fell to the side. In the Fourth Era Morrowind is ruled in all but name by House Redoran, which has greatly increased its sphere of influence but rejects the concept of taxes as foreign and dishonourable. Instead, the other Great Houses are encouraged to fund the New Temple’s welfare and rebuilding programs, most likely in exchange for House Redoran’s protection.

Among the Dunmeri diaspora with their limited access to places of worship but the same burning desire to prove themselves to their new, old gods the practice of tax fraud remained wide-spread. As an especially self-serving way of honouring Mephala, whose worship fell to the background compared to that of Boethiah and Azura, the informal redistribution of funds within the community and a sometimes outright refusal to pay taxes to the Nordic local authorities became common among the larger Dunmeri groups. Certain scholars and courtiers argue that the state of the Grey Quarter in Windhelm with its infrastructural problems is a result of this disposition. While current events and sources always require extremely critical analysis, there are signs that those opinions are not entirely unfounded. After all, it is a popular joke among the denizens of the Grey Quarter that they built shrines for Azura and Boethiah, but that they modelled their home in tribute to Mephala.

[writingsbychlo]

café on the corner | stuart twombly

word count; 9220

summary; stuart takes his girl on the holiday of a lifetime, and realises something along the way.

notes; this is the second part of teh happy birthday fic for @stylesharrys​, and it’s just pure fluff, go ahead. andenjoy.

warnings; smut, unprotected sex.

Shaking his shoulder, the man groaned as he rolled over, and you huffed out as you sat cross-legged beside him. Soft sunlight filtered through the soft cream blinds that were flowing in the room from the floor to ceiling windows to the balcony you’d been watching the birds from only moments ago.

“Stu, wake up!” You were whining the words out, and he groaned, rolling over in the bed and rubbing at his eyes. He cracked a single lid open to look at you, a smile taking over your lips as you cupped his cheeks, leaning over him and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He groaned lowly into your mouth, a hand lifting to weave into your hair as he moved his lips with yours slowly, his body shifting as he propped himself up on his free elbow, sighing when you pulled back.

“You taste like strawberries. Why do you taste like strawberries?”

He rubbed his lips together, licking over them as you pulled back, and he rubbed at his eyes as he woke up a little more. “I ordered a special breakfast. A birthday breakfast.” He sat up straight, looking over the meal sitting on the trolley delivered by room service and his stomach grumbled on queue.

“Last year I woke you up at nine to celebrate your birthday and you went back to sleep until midday. We start your birthday celebrations at..” His eyes flicked over, lifting his phone up as he checked the time, a chuckle on his lips as he saw it. “Ten to eight in the morning?”

“Last year we weren’t in Italy. Our last day in Italy, I might add.” He set himself up in the pillows, fluffing them before he was leaning back and watching as you darted around the hotel room in a quick flurry of movements, taking the wooden trays provided, stacked with sweet foods as you brought him over a plate of pancakes, drizzled with syrup and decorated with a collection of red, pink and blue coloured berries. “We need to make the most of this day! We need to really enjoy it!”

“Enjoy it? What have we been doing with the rest of the days then?”

The flight into Italy had brought a sleepy Stuart, who had snoozed for most of the flight, and a hyperactive version of you, practically buzzing in your seat, a squeal leaving you the moment the plane had landed. You had all but bounded through the airport, collecting your luggage and going through security, before the warm sun had been hitting your skin.

First stop, Rome.

Stuart had really gone all out with his planning. You had done tours of the colosseum and had lunch at a little café, sitting at a woven metal table under an umbrella, quaint stone walls with ivy tumbling down the sides as the smell of freshly roasted coffee filled the air. It had been the exact opposite of the concrete-jungle you’d come from, and it was perfect.

You’d moved from jewellery shops to little boutiques, all the shops you would never get to see in America as you bought trinkets and souvenirs, Stuart having promised that he’d bring something back for his entire team. Neha got a charm bracelet, Stuart disappearing into the store to buy it as you browsed the earrings, picking out a pair you liked just as he returned with the charm, wrapped in blue tissue paper and tucked in a paper bag with the store’s name hand-painted across the front.

Billy and Nick both got a pair of keyrings from a street-seller you’d come across while browsing open markets, and Lyle got a set of beautifully wove cushion covers for the house he’d just bought with his girlfriend. He’d been telling Stuart about her colour scheme for weeks, and so he’d enlisted your help in finding a complementary accessory that could cross as both a souvenir and a housewarming gift for when you returned. Yo-yo got a mug, with an inspirational quote in Italian and a collection of herbal teas, which he’d recently been trying instead of coffee, because he was already jittery enough, and he’d been so much better since the switch over.

You’d rearranged the items in your half-empty suitcase, purposefully left that way so that you could fit in everything you bought and wanted to take home, and you packed the delicate trinkets around your socks and t-shirts for padding.

Stuart had pressed kisses to your cheeks and your lips at every opportunity he had, mumbling his apologies for what had happened as he made up for everything that had transpired that had resulted in the impromptu birthday trip, and that night when you’d gotten to your first hotel, you’d taken his face between your hands, kissing him hard and telling him that it was all okay, and that you forgave him. He’d soon dragged you between the sheets for a memorable first night in Rome.

On your second day in Rome, you visited the Trevi Fountain and the Pantheon. The two of you had enjoyed coffee and hot, freshly-baked pastries at the same little café as the sun rose higher in the sky. You had taken cheesy photos together, both ones that you could frame and ones that would stay in your camera roll, your phone handed off to several people as you asked them to snap pictures of you and your boyfriend. He scowled each time you dragged him into another pose, but he smiled brightly and stood tall in every photo, his eyes on you in most of them as he watched how much you were enjoying yourself.

Your phone’s new lock screen was a picture you had taken before stopping to have lunch, the temple standing in the background as the sun shone down from overhead. You were on your boyfriend’s back, your legs wound tightly around his waist and arms around his neck, your lips pressing his a kiss to his cheeks and your eyes closed. That side of his face was scrunched up, a laugh on his lips from the sudden surprise of the kiss and his cheeks had tinted pink, and it had been one of your favourite photos of the two of you that had ever been taken.

After lunch, you’d travelled a little more, before making wishes at the Trevi fountain. As legend dictated, you’d stood together with your backs to the famous attraction, closing your eyes and making your wishes before flicking the coins over your shoulder, two soft splashings catching your attention as the metal disks sunk to the bottom, ripples on the perfectly clear blue water spreading from their entry-points. His arm had wrapped around your waist, dipping you down for a slow and passionate kiss as you stood beside the edge, and he mumbled just how much he loved you into your mouth as he pulled away.

His new lock screen was a picture he’d snapped secretly when you’d sat on the edge of the fountain, staring off into the distance as you took in the beautiful city around you, the wind sweeping through your hair, and despite how much you protested the picture, he claimed to love it, leaving a wet kiss on your cheek as he ignored your complaints. By the night, you were checking out of the hotel and boarding a train, snoozing together as you leaned against one another as the scenery flashed by the window in the dark.

You’d crashed at your new hotel the moment that you had gotten there, late at night and exhausted as you stripped down to your underwear. The third day of your holiday was full of teasing touches and lip bites as you both relaxed on the beach. Your favourite bikini adorned your body, a pair of khaki-green shorts on your boyfriend’s legs as he roamed the soft-sandy beach shirtless. He’d rubbed sunscreen into your skin, peppering your back and shoulders with kisses as you tanned int he sun. At lunch, you ate sandwiches from a stall and ice-cream from a beachfront shop, swapping cones halfway through and sharing flavours.

Sticky sweet kisses were shared between the two of you as his bubblegum flavoured tongue tangled with your raspberry ripple flavoured one, cold mouth soon warming up as you sat wrapped around one another on towels on the beach. When the sun had passed the centre of the sky, you’d dared to venture into the lapping waves, the clear and cool water calling to you.

You’d floated out further than the rest of the tourists were, the water lapping above your ribcage as it swam around his middle, his hands finding your hips and pulling you into him as his nose bumped yours. With nothing but quiet waves washing over your body in soothing movements, his hands roaming over your back as confessions and declarations of love were shared between the two of you, the ocean’s at the beaches of Italy being the only witness to your conversations, before you melted into his grasp, letting him scoop you up under your legs and wrap you around him as your mouths met.

You swam, and laughed, and you floated in the water and pointed out funny patterns int he clouds until the water was too cold to be in anymore as the sun painted the shy in pastel shades, and your skin was wrinkling like a prune. Your bodies were covered in sand when you lay out on the beach, watching as the day moved on and the nights closed in, stars twinkling in the sky overhead. When the cool night breeze had become too much, he’d held your hand and pressed kisses to your knuckles as you walked the quiet streets back to your hotel, brushing dried sand from one another’s bodies until you were waling through the lobby.

You shared a bath, a bottle of prosecco that you’d bought from the bar with two glasses sitting opened on the side as you leaned back against his chest in the warm and bubble-filled water, letting him slowly wash salt and sand form your skin as he sucked a delicate mark into the skin of your shoulder. The night ended with your forms wrapped in the thin sheets, your cries dying in his mouth as your back arched up from the mattress and his body rolled with yours, hand gripping the headboard and face buried in your neck.

Pisa was the next stop on your tour across Italy, and your boyfriend insisted on taking one of the goofy photos of himself ‘holding up’ the leaning tower. The place was buzzing with other tourists, more couples like the two of you were milling around and yet you still felt special. He made you feel special, he made you feel loved. His hand never left yours, the two of you climbing the tower with the tickets he’d booked in advance, your legs aching and muscles sore as you reached the top, and Stuart was mumbling under his breath about the modern age and elevators, but the view was breathtaking and worth every single step.

The journey down had been the killer, Stuart leaning against you when you were only a hundred steps down, and his large body slumped against yours only added to the struggle, but it was worth every second of it. The scenic picture of your lips locked and the sprawling Italian landscape spread out behind you both was stunning, and it was definitely one of the ones that you’d be framing and hanging on your walls at home.

You’d filled yourself with pizza form the booths set up, a huge wheel of hand-made pizza each, a portion of fries shared between you, and you’d spent the hour after that rubbing your full stomachs as you lay out on the grass, soaking up the warmth and chatting about all your best moments of the trip so far. You talked about where you’d be going next, talked about your dream travels, and indulged in a dessert from a small store, the tiramisu melting on your mouth as the taste of chocolate, coffee and cream coated your senses.

The evening had once again brought a train ride, taking you from Pisa up to Milan, and the city had been alive when you’d arrived, even in the late hour. You’d spent the night sweaty and drunk, grinding with your boyfriend in a club until you could barely stand without swaying to a beat, the thrill of good cocktails and better company buzzing through your system. His front pressed to your back, his arms on your waist and his mouth on your neck, your hands in his hair and on his shoulders, mouths pressed together and touches fleeting and roaming over one another.

The elegance of the final city in your whirlwind travels of the country had been different from the classic and historic beauty of Rome, or the fun and lighthearted ease of Pisa and the beaches of Tirrenia, and you’d spent the day strolling down the highstreets and shopping in high-class boutiques. You’d tried on dresses, modelling them for your boyfriend until you’d chosen your favourite, and he made you vow to save a dress that pretty for an occasion special enough to call for it.

Lunch in the bustling city brought a bowl of pasta shared between the two of you, kissing sauce from the sides of one another’s mouths and holding hands across the table. It was your penultimate full-day, and you were soaking up every ounce of classic culture that the beautiful country was offering. This hotel was by far the most beautiful of them all, a small balcony connected to your room with windows that spanned from the roof to the ground, opening up with delicate silk curtains covering the windows that allowed natural sunlight to filter in.

Birds would land on the balcony, a box of birdseed attached to the wall for optional feeding of the wild flocks, and the bed was king-size, soft cotton sheets for you to roll around in, and a bathtub you may as well do laps in. It was the big final goodbye to Italy, and it was incredible. It had rained on your second-to-final night, and so your plans to find a bar or club to share cocktails and dance in had slipped away, but your moods had never faltered.

Instead, the two of you ordered room service and drinks from the bar, your phone letting out the soft melodies of your favourite songs, the tunes you’d collectively gathered over your years of being together, and he danced you around, barefoot in your pyjamas as you slow danced across the carpet of your hotel room. The night had ended with the two of you watching movies, cuddling among the stuffed pillows and cushions.

At midnight, he had presented you with a cupcake. Swirling yellow and glittery icing atop the lemon-flavoured treat that you recognised from the bakery you’d passed by earlier in the day. He had produced a single candle and a lighter, letting you blow it out and make your wish. He gave you a kiss for every year of your age, before handing you the cupcake, and presenting the other five fruity and chocolatey indulgent treats, the two of you sharing the box of cakes before crashing, sleepy kisses and tired wishes of goodnight being the last to echo in the room around you.

You rolled your eyes at him, grinning as you took your own plate and settled into the pillows beside him, your bare legs stretched out alongside his, clad in plaid pyjama bottom pants. A long sleeve shirt sat on your torso, his chest bare, the two of you perfectly matching and he bumped his foot against yours, smiling as he stuffed a sliced off piece from the stack into his mouth.

“Shut up, you know what I mean.” A dribble of syrup ran along his lip, and you leaned in, licking it from his skin slowly before planting a kiss on his lips, the sugary taste spreading between both of your mouths and he grinned as he returned the affection, before turning back to his food and chewing his mouthful.

“Yeah, well, I’ve got it covered.”

His words were cryptic, and you raised a brow at him curiously. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see.” You grumbled under your breath about his lack of clarification, but chose instead to allow him to get away with it, the both of you happily eating your breakfasts. Throughout the meal, he’d cast you sly glances, the edges of his lips tipped up in a smirk as he looked at you, watching as you tried to ignore out what it was that he was scheming with, choosing instead to busy yourself by bumping your foot against his in tune with the song stuck in your head.

Upon finishing your meals, you were getting ready, the heat already beginning to come in, and while you were showering, Stuart had piled all your empty plates back up onto the room service trolley and pushed it out into the hall to be collected again later by a worker who may find it. He was freshly shaven, skin clean and smelling of aftershave when you emerged from the steamy glass cubicle, and he was wearing the smart green henley he’d brought with him and had yet to wear.

The olive-coloured material complimented the slight tan he’d picked up on your week here, and a pair of black skinny jeans-clad his legs, the cleaner pair of Adidas trainers on his feet. Instead of his usual glasses, he’d swapped them out for his prescription sunglasses, sitting atop his head as he tucked the regular pair into your purse just in case he changed his mind halfway through the day.

“You look fancy.”

His head snapped up upon hearing you enter the room, and he sent you a grin, eyes raking along your body, wrapped in a towel as you dried your hair with another one, and he licked over his lower lip. “You should get dressed, I don’t have sex scheduled until this evening if you keep standing there all wet and almost naked, we’re going to miss out plans.”

A laugh left you as you walked past him, leaning up to place a quick peck to his lips as you grabbed your hairdryer from your suitcase and plugged it into the wall, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as you ran your hand through the damp tangles. “You’ve scheduled in sex for tonight? I feel so spontaneous.”

His cheeks flushed as he scowled, dipping his head so that his sunglasses fell from the top of his head to sit over his eyes, and he stuck his tongue out at you playfully. “I had to schedule it in, because after the great day I have planned, you’re definitely going to want to suck my dick later.” He had a cheeky grin on his face as he watched your jaw drop, laughing and dodging the pillow you threw at him. “Hey! I just made that bed!”

“I’m sucking your dick on my birthday? Doesn’t sound very fair.”

“You love it when I fuck your pretty little mouth, and you know it.” He put the pillow back in place, your face going red as he looked at you, a moody pout on your lips as he won your quip-off, but he simply tipped your head up with a finger under your chin, pressing a peck to your pouted lips and smiling softly at you. “I picked out that nice white sundress you bought the other day, you should wear it. You look pretty in it.”

He left you alone, wandering out onto the balcony with his phone in his hands, no doubt to take a stream of selfies and artistic pictures of the view that he could send to his work group-chat and post on Facebook for his family to see. As introverted as he may seem, during your relationship Stuart had become well aware of how attractive he was, or at least well aware of how attractive you thought he was, and so he was definitely not camera shy.

It didn’t take long to dry your hair, and you’d almost entirely forgone makeup for your trip, choosing to let your skin breathe and simply applying sun lotion, a flick of mascara and some dots of concealer. By the time he’d deemed his photoshoot over, you were just fastening the straps on the wedge heels you’d bought that matched the dress, the boutique having been reasonably priced enough that you’d been able to afford both.

“Ready?”

“Of course.” He grinned, taking your hand and raising it up to his lips, before pulling you into him, pressing a long and sweet kiss to your lips, your mind blanking as you melted into him, hands clutching at the material of the shirt on his chest as you tried to grasp onto him for support. His lips worked slowly against yours, dragging together and working in perfect harmony, his tongue sliding along your lower lip, before he sucked on it just enough to make you gasp, your lips parting for him.

Sliding a hand into your softened hair, he tipped his head to the side, his tongue dipping into your mouth to tangle with your own and you whimpered into him, sliding your arms around his body to pull yourself closer to him, and his hand on your hip tightened. It wasn’t rushed or sloppy, but instead slow and loving and passionate, and you were breathless when you pulled away, your eyes wide when they finally fluttered open to look at him. “Woah. What was that for?”

“Because you look so pretty, and I love you, so much.” His lips pressed to your forehead before he turned you around, nudging you in the direction of the still open balcony doors. “Let me take a picture of you before we go.”

You indulged him, moving to stand out on the ledge, sun shining around you as you grinned for him, and he snapped a few pictures from different angles, before finally allowing you to come inside again, you scooped up your own sunglasses and adjusted your bag on your shoulder, checking you had everything you needed as he locked the doors, before his hand was taking yours, your fingers lacing together as he guided you from the room.

“So, what are we doing?”

He grinned at you, hitting the button on the hotel elevator and watching as the doors slid shut, the box kicking into gear. “Lots of things. Things you’ll love, I hope.” You squeezed his hand in support, placing a hand on his cheek and turning his face towards you, offering him the warmest smile you could as his eyes swept over your face.

“We could spend the entire day in the hotel room watching Netflix and I’d still love it. You brought me to Italy for my birthday, how could it be anything less than incredible?”

Your words made him smile, and he pecked the tip of your nose, the lift coming to a halt and the doors opening back up for you to allow you an exit, and he guided you out of the main doors and into the already bustling streets of the fashion-capital city. The heat hit you all at once, the air-conditioned coolness of your hotel slipping away as you followed him along the streets, a pep in your step as he guided you to your first location.

“Stu! Tell me what we’re doing!” Your voice was whiny, and he chuckled as your short walk was nearing its end, guiding you into the large plaza that was buzzing with people, both tourists and locals as they all went about their own days.

“Well, firstly, we’re going to climb up the Duomo di Milano, and take some pictures.” His mouth had formed the words perfectly, the accent coming out just right, and you smirked at him as he guided you towards the beautiful cathedral, the tall building towering over you and leaving a beautiful shadow across the ground, facts already pouring from your boyfriend’s mouth about the history of the building and what it would be like inside. The more Italian he spoke, the more facts and knowledge he poured out as he effortlessly guided you around the intricate halls and paths, you realised just how much effort he’d put into planning this day for you.

Once you had reached the top balconies, the sunlight filtering over the pale and sun-bleached stones, you pulled him onto the most aesthetic spot you could find, pulling out your phone as his arms wrapped around your waist, his nose nuzzling into your hair as you sorted yourself out with your camera. Twisting your face towards him, your lips found his, and he let out a happy hum as he eagerly returned the kiss, the sound of the camera snapping its picture being merely a dull echo behind you both as you got lost in the feeling of his lips on yours.

When he pulled back, he let out a shallow laugh against your lips, the sound carried on his little pants for air, and you bumped your noses together, before pulling away to look at the cheesy-pictures you’d taken.

“We look great. Don’t we look great?” You held the phone up for him to look at, and he lifted his sunglasses, glancing at them for a second before pressing his lips to your cheek and letting them fall back into place. “I can’t wait to get our pictures framed, or maybe make a scrapbook. Can we put some of the pictures around the house?”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

You took off in a detailed explanation of what you wanted to do with the memories you were capturing, your face lit up with joy, your thoughts all running together as you spoke quickly, the man you loved watching you with amusement, clearly not listening as he simply stared at you, before using the arms that were still wrapped around you to pull you into him, placing a quick kiss to your mouth to silence you of your hurried ramblings. “Non vedo l'ora di sposarti, un giorno.”

Your eyes were wide as you looked at him, your dropped jaw became a wide beam as you looked at him, taking his hand as the two of you moved on. “What does that mean? When did you learn Italian?”

“I spent the whole time up to the trip learning a few phrases to impress you. Did it work?”

“It did, I’m very impressed, and a little bit turned on. Did you learn anything we can use for that bit of scheduled sex later?” Your voice dipped as you spoke to him, and he gasped, a holding a hand over his chest as he guided you through the corridors and back toward the stairs, slipping a hand down to pinch your ass when he was sure nobody was looking, your body jumping and a squeak leaving you when he did.

“Voi dimmi, quando sei nudo e urlando per me.” He nipped at your earlobe as he spoke, not wanting any of the locals who spoke the language to overhear his dirty words, and your breath felt forced from your lungs as you flushed, the sudden heat on your body definitely not from the temperature the sun beating down on you was creating.

Following you trip up to the balconies of the beautiful cathedral, you wandered the plaza and the surrounding areas, taking in everything from the beautiful fountains to the scenic environment, and you couldn't have been happier of you tried, Your boyfriend was happy to follow you wherever you wanted to go, as long as by the time it was 2 p.m. you were ready for your next surprise.

That surprise happened to be a light lunch at Terrazza Aperol, overlooking the beautiful and historic building you’d been in an hour or so prior, and you were greeted with a complimentary Aperol Spritz, the two of you helping yourselves to small plates of food from their buffet tables, before settling into the comfortable seats under the shade of the umbrella. You were ecstatic, and clearly he knew, because he was grinning as he watched you settle into your seat, knowing how much you’d wanted to visit this particular spot from all the times he’d seen you save pictures of it on Instagram, or add it to your vision board for your travels to Italy.

“You know, Verona isn’t far from here.” You teased, and his brows raised as he pushed a mouthful of food up onto his fork, pausing on its way to his mouth as he sent you a crooked grin.

“You want to be the Juliet to my Romeo, baby?”

“Always. You know how much I love a classic romance.” He chuckled, chewing his food as he considered his next words, looking at you carefully.

“Okay, we can be star-crossed lovers, but only if you promise not to do anything stupid like dying on me, I need you too much. We have too much to live for yet.” You cooed at him, pressing a kiss to the edge of his mouth before pulling back, his eyes watching you with a look you couldn't quite decipher, before he seemed to clear his thoughts winking at you cheekily and moving back to his meal.

The afternoon was spent with both of your hands wrapped around one of his arms, as he took you through the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, letting you glance into every little shopping spot you desired, never once rushing you or looking bored, but letting you take your time, and he carried all the bags, filled with items you were purchasing as you went, never letting you carry any bag that wasn’t your purse.

By the time you had finished, the temperature was beginning to cool as you moved onto the late-afternoon, and you made the quick trip back to the hotel to put down all your shopping bags. You flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as you let pure bliss overwhelm you, the day having been more than you ever could have wished for.

“Today was amazing. Thank you so much, Stuart.”

“Don’t get too comfortable, I have one more surprise for you.” You propped yourself up on your elbows, raising a brow at him as he dug through his bag, before pulling out the smart button-up shirt he had packed in there at the beginning of the trip. Placing his sunglasses down, folded and finished with as the sun sank lower and dimmer on the horizon, he tugged the henley up over his head, and you bit your lip. Normally pale skin had a slight golden hue, the dark hairs standing out deliciously from the smatterings across his chest and down below his navel, dipping into his jeans as they sat low on his hips.

Your view was covered when he closed the new shirt around himself, doing up the buttons carefully and chuckling at you when you whined at him. “Are you sure we can’t have that scheduled sex now? You look good.”

He had a slight pink blush on his cheeks when he looked back to you, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and placing his usual glasses on his nose, ruffling his hair a little bit as he laughed lightly. “We could, but then we’d miss our dinner reservations at one of the restaurants along the Navigli canals.”

You shot upright, looking at him with a dropped jaw, and he held his hands out for you, pulling you up and into him as you gaped. “Are you serious?”

“Do electrons carry a negative charge?” You rolled your eyes at his nerdy joke, excitement flooding through your body at the thought of the evening ahead. “It’s a nice little place, I figured if we go now, we can walk along the canals and watch the sunset before eating? What do you say?”

You nibbled on your lower lip, pecking his lips before taking his hand, a dangerous glint on your eye and a smirk on your lips when you turned back to him, swiping your bag and the hotel room keycard from the counter. “I say you were definitely right before when you said I’d be wanting to suck your cock tonight.”

You opened the door, his loud laugh ringing out into the corridors as you let it swing shut behind you, and he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you close to his side. “Told you so.”

The elevator ride felt too slow, you could feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as you tapped your foot, nibbling on your bottom lip. Stuart’s arm over your shoulders felt far too heavy, but it also felt like he was anchoring you to the ground, and you were overly aware of the fingers drawing patterns on your arm.

The little old lady facing away from you was paying no attention to you, she was reading the leaflets on the inside of the door as she talked to her friend, the two of them arm in arm as they shakily read the pamphlets about activities to do within the hotel, and Stuart was mouthing your neck, leaving wet marks on your skin, his glasses fogged up and smudged as his face buried in your neck, and you had to choke down the moan that wanted to bubble up and out of you.

Only three floors to go until you reach your own.

You had walked along the canals together, snapping pictures of the sunset and holding one another close as you made the most of your final night in the European city. You’d taken pictures of the pastel colours of the sky reflecting on the water, and you’d chatted about your trip, talking together about how you promised to return one day, to do all the things you’d never had a chance to this time, before finding your restaurant and ready for the bookings.

Dinner had been incredible. You’d shared a bottle of local wine, and you’d eaten pasta and sweet desserts until you’d been full. Chat had ranged between playful banter and flirty comments, working the two of you up. It had started with his leg bumping against yours under the table, hands brushing across the table and subtle looks over one another with bitten lips. By the time dessert had been served, he’d moved onto your side of the booth, a hand on your thigh, squeezing and teasing, your bodies pressed together, feeding one another spoonfuls of gelato, slices of fresh fruit and whipped cream.

You could still taste the sweet treat in your mouth and you watched the floors count up, finally landing on yours as the moving box came to a halt and the doors slid open. Taking your boyfriend’s hand in your own, the ding of the doors closing again sounded when you were only feet out of the elevator, and you dropped his hand, desperately fishing through your purse for the keycard to your room.

Hands were hot on your hips, a growl into your neck as he used a single finger to pull the spaghetti strap of your sundress down until it fell loose over your arm, and he sucked a large mark onto the skin of your shoulder, knowing that it would be deep purple and expansive in the morning, your hands shaking as you waited for the light to change front red to green, and for the door to click open.

The second it had, you were twisting in your boyfriend's arms, stumbling through the door and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling his mouth down to meet yours. He groaned against your lips, a sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth and pure frantic desperations as the door slammed shut behind you and the sounds echoed from the walls. Your hands slipped down to his chest, tugging and pushing at buttons as you tried to get the button up undone, deciding to just rip it, the pieces of plastic hitting the floor as the material gaped open, and he moaned low in his throat as you did.

“Did you just rip open my shirt?”

Ducking your head, you pressed your lips to his chest, licking a wet mark across his skin and following it with your kisses, his hands on your hips tightening infinitely as his head fell back. “You bet I did. I’ll stitch the buttons back on when we get home, it’s fine.”

“I so don’t care about anything other than being buried balls-deep inside of you right now.” His voice was low and gravelly, and you wobbled on your heels, his strong arms holding you firm as your hands trailed down to rest on his forearms. Your eyes scanned over the tan skin, the veins protruding even more prominently from his strong grip on you, and you felt like you were on fire. A single hand slid around to the back of your dress, tugging down the zipper and helping you to shed the material, his breath hitching in his throat as he looked at you. “So fucking perfect for me.”

You reached up to his shoulders, pushing away the button up until it fell to the floor, and you moved to pop the button on his jeans. Large palms fondled at your ass, and you yanked down the zipper on his jeans, trying to push them down your hips as he played with the lace, letting his hands slip underneath to rest on your heated flesh. “I really need you to take these jeans off, and I need you to fuck me. Like, right now.”

“Is that a birthday wish?”

“Well, there are no candles to blow out, but I could blow on something else to make it come true?” He smirked at your words, kicking off his shoes and holding up his hands, folding them behind his head as a cocky look took over his face.

“I think we could make that work. On your knees, baby.”

You grinned, dropping down and taking a fistful of material on either side of his hips, tugging down both his boxers and his jeans until they were stuck around his thighs just above his knees, a dripping cock pointed straight at you, swollen and red as it bobbed before your face. Wrapping a hand around him, you pumped slowly, skin slick from his own precum and you licked over your lips, before taking the head into your mouth.

Swirling your tongue around the head, his hips shook, your hands rounding his thighs as your nails dug into the firm flesh, a humming sound leaving him as you focused your attention. Moving further down, your tongue flattened, trailing over the vein on the underside of his cock, until your nose was brushing the hairs at the base of his thick cock, gagging around his length and slurping at him, your eyes watering as you swallowed around him, and he let out a long groan, a hand dropping to lace in your hair as he pulled you back from his cock.

A string of saliva connected you to him, and he wiped under your chin, breaking it away as he looked down at you. His lips were parted and puffy from the kisses you had shared, and his eyes were blown with just, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb ran over your lips.

“You’re a fucking vision. Down on your knees, chin wet with your spit from taking my cock so good. But, it’s your birthday, so get up here and I’ll give you everything you want.” He held a hand out for you, and you licked along the length of his cock, gathering the salty essence that was beading at the slit on the tip before taking his outstretched hand, lifting you up to your feet as you stood before him. Sliding his hands around to your back, your bra came loose, and he slid down your arms, your nipples pebbling in the cool air. “Tell me how you want it, and you can have it.”

“Firstly, I want it hard, and rough.”

“Like this?” He tugged you in toward him, wet cock pressed to your thigh as his hand found your hair, pulling your head back and exposing your neck to him, his mouth descending to your neck. He licked and sucked at your skin, nipping along your jaw and marking you up for anyone to see when the marks came through in the morning.

“Yeah.” Your breaths were shaky, and you wiggled your panties away and down your hips, letting them fall to the floor for yourself to step out of, leaving you in just your heels. “Then, I want it slow, show me how much you love me.”

“I can do that.” Without any further hesitations, his hand around your thighs, knocking your legs out from underneath you as he twisted you back to fall against the soft quilts lining the bed. With a hand on one ankle, he pulled you back toward the edge of the bed, your feet touching the floor one by one as he unstrapped your heels and dropped them to the floor. Wet kisses were placed up the insides of each of your legs, nips replacing the soft exchanges when it came to your inner thighs, and you were already trembling by the time he licked a stripe from your entrance to the pulsating bud of pleasure.

Two fingers prodded at your core, slipping into your slick hole with ease as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking harshly and your back arched up, a cry leaving you as your legs bent at the knee and your hands wrapped into his hair. Your hips were rolling into his face, and he let out a low growl against your core, one large palm spreading out over your stomach as he forced your hips back down into the bed, holding you still as his pace picked up.

His fingers were slamming into you, brushing against that spot within you each time, and he scissored them, opening you up wide with a delicious burn, cries and please leaving you as your arousal gushed around your fingers.

“Holy shit, Stuart.”

“That’s right, moan for me, sweetheart. Soon you’ll be telling all of Italy who’s making you feel good.” He dove back in, growling and nibbling at your clit, the nub swollen with joy as your hips bucked under his hold, and his mouth moved down, slurping up the juices flowing out around his fingers as pornographically wet sounds filled the room. “You want to cum on my tongue? I bet you did, I can feel how you’re squeezing my fingers, such a good girl.”

“‘M close, Stu.”

“Come on, baby. Cum for me.” On his words, his fingers pulled out of you, tongue plunging into your core as his arms wrapped around your thighs, and a squeal left you, a sob following it as your body trembled and shook, your orgasm crashing over you and racing through your body, your body feeling as though it was floating on clouds. Your arousal gushed from you, and he sucked up every drop you released, moaning and grunting into your folds as he cleaned you up, never ceasing until you were pushing his head away.

He left wet kisses up your stomach, a mouth closing around one breast as he lapped at your tits, hot breath washing over your skin as he swirled his tongue around the taut peaks, before swapping to the other one, fingers still wet with your fluids as he twisted and tugged with his fingers, his name on your lips like prayers as he worked, before finally making his way back up to your lips.

Your taste was shared with you, still strong on his tongue as it pushed into your mouth to tangle with your own, his mouth slanting over yours, and he lifted one of your thighs up to rest on his hip, the tip dragging through your sodden folds. “You want me to go get a condom, or you?”

“No, I think we can go without.”

“Holy shit, okay.” He grinned, pecking your lips before he was placing hands on your hips, kneeling back and flipping you over, your cheek pressed to the sheets as you gasped, and he planted a firm smack to each side of your ass, your body jumping with each touch, your eyes sliding shut as you moaned.

Tugging you up, your ass was up in the air, chest and face pressed into the covers and he sunk into you smoothly, buried to the hilt within a second, and a scream tore from your lips, feeling filled up and stretched out in the most perfect way. You rocked your hips back into him, and his hands held your hips firm and locked, tutting under his breath, followed by a growl.

“Keep still, baby. Be good for me.” He gave you another quick set of spankings, and you whimpered, sounds muffled by the covers, before a hand took  a fistful of your hair, pulling you up to prop you on shaky arms, his hips swivelling within you. “I need you to scream for me, to tell everyone around who’s making you feel good. Leave your mark in Milan, for me?”

He had pulled back as he spoke, and snapped into you as he finished his sentence, something between a scream and a moan sounding out, and you mumbled praises to him, encouraging him to repeat the actions as his hips snapped into yours once again. Your eyes were rolling back in your head, broken and stuttered sounds leaving you as he fucked into you from behind, your knees digging into the mattress as you rocked back into him.

Your skin slapped together, one of his hands on your hip and one of his hands wrapped in your hair, holding your head back so that your moans could bounce and echo around the room. You pushed yourself up further, his arm slipping around your waist as he took the hint and he pulled you back until you were kneeling on the edge of the bed, his feet still planted firmly on the floor as he kept his chest to your back.

“Kiss me, Stuart.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, your head tipping to the side as he leaned forward, slamming into you and tapping against your sweet spot as his lips met yours. Your tongues dragged together, wet muscles wrapping together in passionate embrace as you connected in the most intimate of ways. He was buried deep within you, a repetitive rhythm that was pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm that would blow your mind, and your body was rocking with every movement he made.

You gripped at his arm, nails digging into his skin as he pounded into you, mouths pressed together as you swallowed the sounds each other made, before he was moving his fingers down to your clit. Your body jerked the second the pad of his fingers brushed across it, and he pressed down, rubbing hard and fast circled into the bus as you gasped and cried out in bliss.

Your climax crashed over you, wave after wave of bliss, his pace never letting up as your eyes rolled back, your head resting on his shoulder as he grunted and growled into your ear, fucking you through your climax with a bruising pace. Your body spasmed, and he let you go, letting you fall back into the pillows with a bounce, legs twitching and jerking until he finally pulled out, and you let out a happy sound, laughing breathlessly and moaning as the aftermath raced through your body, still able to feel his bruising touch on you, the feel of him pounding into you.

You rolled onto your back, watching as Stuart knelt on the bed between your legs, a dopey smile on his face as he ran a hand through his hair. Reaching up, he plucked the glasses from his face, putting them down on the bedside table, a thin layer of sweat making his skin shine in the low light from the street and the stars that was flittering through the window. Leaning over you, his hands held him up on either side of your head, and you wrapped your weak arms around his neck, and he pressed a series of short kisses to your lips.

“I love you so much.” His nose bumped against yours as he spoke, and you let out a sound of satisfaction, pulling him back down into a longer kiss, his hips settling between yours. Parting your legs further, he had no struggle with slipping back into your sodden heat, joint moans leaving you both as he inched into you.

You could feel every throb of his cock, every inch and ridge within you both sliding together until he was seated snugly within your walls, filling you up and stretching you in ways that made you quake, as though he had been made for you. “I love you, too.”

“I may not last long.” His face buried in your neck, a hand lifting you thighs up until they crossed over his back, heels digging into his ass as he rocked his hips slowly, dragging together in slow movements as he fucked you with purpose, his mouth leaving sweet kisses along your skin as you tipped your head to the side to grant him further space.

“That’s okay. Fill me up, Stuart, give me everything you’ve got.”

He nodded, pushing himself up so he could rock his body into yours, your nails digging into his back as you clung to him. Your walls clenched around him, drawing him back in with every thrust he made, and you rocked your hips up to meet him, kisses and mumbles of love shared between the two of you. Red streaks were left along his mole-spotted skin, your nails raking across his skin as he pleased you.

A third orgasm was building within you, your bodies sliding together as he dropped down until you were chest to chest, foreheads pressed together and eyes closed as you gasped. Your lips barely brushed, but it was enough to spark electricity within you each time, and with just a pout of the lips your mouths would be sealed together.

Hot breath washed over one another skins, quiet moans and desperate pleas slipping between the two of you, and with one final and deep thrust, his body stiffened, moans rising in pitch a few octaves, his voice cracking as he yelled out your name.

The feeling of hit cum spilling into you, shooting powerfully from his tip as he remained buried deep within you threw you into a final orgasm of your own, your back arching up as the two of you pressed together, sloppily rolling your bodies together as you rode out the pleasure, spikes of bliss still moving through your body leaving you both twitching, and he slumped down on top of you.

“That was absolutely incredible.” He breathed, and you giggled, a moan slipping from him as the action caused you to clench around him, and he pulled back, rolling himself off of you and pulling out as he collapsed beside you on the bed, an arm slung over his eyes.

“Birthday sex always is.” You mused, curling into his side and he dipped his head down to press multiple kisses along your forehead and hairline, smiling into your skin as he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

You lay there, letting your heart slow and your breathing relax, the man under you going placid as his breaths became steady, eyes closed and grip on you loosening. Twisting to look at him, his eyes were closed and his lips parted, snoozing quietly beside you. With a chuckle, you eased yourself up, making your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up before pulling on the henley your boyfriend had discarded before dinner.

Possessions were scattered around the room shoppings bags and clothes, bags and chargers, and you knew that after the night's activities, your boyfriend would be sleeping in late. You had seen a sweet little café on the corner of the street your hotel was on, and you planned to take him for a final breakfast there on your way to the airport.

Folding up your clothes and beginning to pack into your suitcases, you pulled on a clean pair of panties as you went, kneeling on the floor beside both of your open cases, choosing to just pack everything into either case, no need to pack individually as you’d only end up unpacking together anyway. As you folded away the gifts, you got each of them out, folding the beautifully patterned paper bags to preserve them as you stashed your souvenirs away safely.

Your brows furrowed when you came to packing away the gifts he had bought for his friends, two neat little packets instead of one falling from the first bag you had purchased, all the way back in Rome. Each wrapped up in the signature blue tissue paper, one was flat and flexible as the charm bracelet should be.

The other was circular and solid, and you peeled back the tissue paper carefully, squeaking when you revealed the item held in your hands, your eyes wide and jaw dropped almost to the floor. Lifting the lid carefully, a little light lit up inside of the box, illuminating before your face as it shone down on a precious golden band, a beautiful gem sitting on the ring, a smaller one on either side to decorate it, and you felt bile rise in your throat from nervous excitement.

Closing it again, you wrapped it carefully and chose to place it back inside the bag with the other one, placing it discreetly into the suitcase, choosing to hide that you’d ever discovered the gift he’d secretly bought. The rest of the packing was haphazard, your mind spinning with possibilities, and when you were finally crawling into bed beside your boyfriend - soon to be fiancée, it seemed - he barely surfaced enough to roll over and snuggle you back into him.

A mumbled and barely audible ‘I love you’ slipped from his lips, and you pecked the tip of his nose, his lips curling up happily in the state he was rendered in, somewhere between asleep and awake. Glancing at the suitcases you had zipped up, locked, and propped by the door, your eyes sliding closed as you held the man you loved close, anticipating what was to come.

There was no rush, you knew it would come and so for now, you were happy to just breeze through everything at your own pace.

“Non vedo l'ora di sposarti, un giorno.” - “I can’t wait to marry you, one day.”

“Voi dimmi, quando sei nudo e urlando per me.” - “You tell me, when you’re naked and screaming for me.”

[grimoire-of-geekery]

Dragonlance Week Prompt #5: Vows

Good.  Evil.  Neutrality.  Seven gods of each.  All in a precarious balance around the world, trying to sway and influence it to their will.

Probably my favorite AND least favorite aspect to Krynn’s structure is the three pantheons.  Specifically, because I don’t believe in the idea of “evil gods.”  The word goð means “of goodly nature” in some interpretations, as in it’s the same root as that of the word “good.”  Meaning, power and omniscience alone do not make a god.  One must also be of goodly nature, given toward creating the world’s future and happiness.

I’d love to have this philosophical conversation with someone (maybe even Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman), but my opinions and views are irrelevant, as Dragonlance canon clearly establishes the three sets of gods as creators of the world, and one set is established as evil.

Anyway, this spread is a spread done entirely with the Major Arcana in mind, since the gods would be major forces.  I don’t have a direct correspondence between the gods and the Majors, because I don’t consider the Majors to be good or evil only.  Instead, I’ve created spots for each of the gods in their pantheons, and the cards will determine what those gods’ influences are working on at the moment.

You may place the center card any time you like.  You may begin with whichever wheel you like, but you should lay the wheel in the order the cards are laid.

The rightmost wheel represents the Gods of Good.  All the cards meet together in a council-like fashion, but their numbering system descends down from the first card, showing that Paladine is the Chief God of Good and supercedes all others.  They correspond as follows:

Paladine, Father of Good and Master of the Law

Mishakal, Matron of Healing and Love

Kiri-Jolith, First Knight of Righteous Honor

Branchala, Song of Inspiration

Majere, Teacher of Discipline

Habbakuk, Blue Phoenix of Life and the Sea

Solinari, Keeper of the Silver Moon of Good Magic

The leftmost wheel represents the Gods of Evil.  The very layout is shifty, and Takhisis’ position is the only upright card, showing that she is supreme, but her card is down at the bottom of the wheel, reflecting her tendency to be sneaky about her influence, and also reflecting some of the recent canonical changes in pantheon...  The cards correspond thusly:

Takhisis, Queen of Darkness

Sargonnas, Consort of Vengeful Honor

Hiddukel, Prince of Tarnished Gold

Chemosh, Lord of the Undead

Zeboim, Lady of Tempests and the Sea

Morgion the Seething, god of Envy and Disease

Solinari, Keeper of the Black Moon of Evil Magic

The topmost wheel represents the Gods of Neutrality.  Each card in a loose lockstep, allowing for independent action but with an eye toward balance.  They correspond to the following card positions:

Gilean, Observer and Keeper of the Tobril (the book of creation)

Sirrion, Lord of Flame

Shinare, Lady of Trade and Craft

Reorx, Lord of the Forge

Chislev, World Mother of Nature

Zivilyn, Seeker of Wisdom

Lunitari, Keeper of the Red Moon of Neutral Magic

The central card represents Krynn and the free will of mortals, symbolized by the one wild force which no god can control- Chaos, the god within the Graygem, coveted and feared by all gods.

You may place the center card any time you like.  You may begin with whichever wheel you like, but you should lay the wheel in the order the cards are laid.  Once all cards are laid, you will see what each god’s influence is upon your world.  The Fool card is of particular interest, as it means they seek to directly influence the mortal realm, and their influence is upon the Graygem (read the center card to tell what they are up to).  That god is closest to the querent at this time.

This reading only employs Majors, mind.  It will reveal the shape of the world in a rather interesting way, and probably should not be undertaken but once every three months at earliest.

Have fun!  Look for more interesting posts on @dragonlance-week​!

[kneesheee]

here comes the bind

Day Four: Soulmates | Wedding

The day was finally here.

The day of the JayKyle wedding.

Apollo and Aphrodite were currently riding around in his chariot scaring the living hell out of everyone. No one had seen the gods of beauty this angry since Apollo killed Python and Aphrodite was torturing Psyche. The two of them were supposed to be helping their children get ready, but the day had to be perfect. That meant everyone needed to get with the program.

The chosen location wasn’t Themyscira or Bana-Mighdall. It wasn’t anywhere in LA, Gotham or Ireland. It wasn’t anywhere in Greece or Rome. It wasn’t even on Olympus.

No, they decided to host the wedding on Outlaw Island.

[They made sure to invite everyone even Eris. No one wanted a repeat of the Trojan War.]

The Fates were sitting in their own section ready to show off the life strings of the two demigods. [The news that they were preparing to give was going to be a shocker.]

The gods that each a hand in raising the boys and watching them grow sat near the front. Hera would be the one marrying the two. The Outlaws would have sat behind them if not for being members of the wedding party. Their mortal families [which for Kyle meant the Lanterns] sat behind them. Kyle’s sat on the left while Jason’s sat on the right. It was to represent the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. There had been quite a commotion when Bruce realized that he was going to be sat near Talia. Only to then throw an even bigger fit when he realized that she came before him in the lineup. (His feelings will be so hurt when he realized the most important part.] Right behind their mortal families sat the Amazons who all had a hand in training the boys. Each side of them. Scattered throughout the rest of the seats were other members of the pantheon and the Justice League. They were seated by their level of importance to the couple (a lot of members of the Justice League and various assassins and aliens were seated near the back).

Demeter and Dionysus grew apple, myrtle, and laurel trees before morphing them into archways. There was backdrop of the couple’s favorite hill where one could look over the sea point out where the sun connects.

Poseidon pulled seashell from the sea up to create the walkway. Bust of the gods were dotted around the seating area.

Hera sniffed a little disdainfully, “We were going to do a traditional Hellenic wedding, but the boys wanted to modernize it. Luckily, we managed to get most of everything done, so now we can begin the service.”

She gave her stepson a look and Apollo began to sing while the Muses harmonized with him. Smiles lit up everyone’s face to hear the pure joy and love in the father’s voice. He was nothing if not lovable. The mortals swayed on their feet due to the divine energy spreading throughout the song. It took everything in their power and then some to keep them seated.

Suddenly, another voice began to sing, and everyone turned to look. Draped in a cream chiton with a golden chlamys around him, Jason looked like red headed version of his father before him. His freckles stood out on his skin. The black dye was fading away at the ends of his hair. The symbol of the lyre was on a band wrapped around his arm. Laurel leaves were braided into his hair. His blue green eyes had a ring of gold surrounding them as he smiled ecstatically. On his arm was Talia who smirked smugly at Bruce as she walked her son down the aisle. She was wearing a pale gold peplos with her hair falling into princess curls. She smiled lovingly at him when she had to let him go, giving him a kiss on the forehead, before moving on to her seat. Jason continued to sing alongside his father who had tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.

The sound of giggling could be heard before Lian Harper skipped out into the party. Persephone had braided flowers into her hair while giving her seeds of rose and hyacinth. Every time the little girl threw to the ground said flower burst into full bloom, yet the scent never smelled too much nor appalling.

Another beat passed before Kyle appeared dressed in a salmon himation. Jason audibly gasped at the sight and Kyle froze for half a second after seeing him. Giggles could be heard from their friends and the nymphs at the two’s reaction. Hal had to tug on Kyle’s hand to get him moving.  Myrtle leaves had been braided into Kyle’s hair giving him a look almost like the nymphs. His tanned legs were long and true with rose wrapped around his ankles before tying around his sandals. His iridescent eyes looked like rainbow prisms flashing a deep pink and blue and indigo. Jason’s heart skipped a beat. He could stare in Kyle’s eyes until the end of time and still never have enough of them.

Apollo and the Muses’ song slowed to a stop as the two made it to the end. Hal smiled at Kyle like a proud father before patting him on the shoulder. He would’ve ruffled his hair if it weren’t for the way that Aphrodite was glaring daggers with a smile on her face.

The couple stood before each other in front of the High Queen. The Goddess of Marriage. She smiled at them both. She remembered the wide-eyed looks both gave when they had been first introduced to the family. She remembered the light blushes on each of their cheeks. The first thing Jason had said was that she was pretty, and Kyle had immediately ignored everyone as he began to sketch her right then and there. They had followed all of them around like little ducklings whenever the two were on Olympus. Kyle with his mother and Jason with the Amazons.

Hera will admit if only to herself that she had thought that Jason would end up with Artemis from Bana-Mighdall. At least until she realized that the girl wasn’t interested in boys and that Jason saw her as another sister figure. She had also thought that Kyle would end up with Jessica once the female lantern came around, but the two of them had a close familial bond that warmed Hera’s heart.

The ceremony passed in a blur for the two boys as they stared each other in the eyes. Hera’s words being tuned out as Kyle felt the love that Jason held for him [though it was tinged with something else. Something a little darker.] and Jason could see their future together [though it faded a little around the edges like an old movie].

Their vows had been short and sweet as their guests stared in awe at the sight of the boys’ essences began blend around them. Hera was going all out for everyone to see how beautiful and wonderful the two were.

Hera smiled with a teeth and threatening eyes as she looked out into the crowd, “If anyone objects to this union, please speak now or forever hold your piece.” Everyone glanced nervously at each other while Apollo, Aphrodite, Hal, and Talia calmly fingered their weapons.

“We do,” three voices stated together. Everyone turned in shock to look at who would be foolish enough to go against the very protective wedding party. Jaws dropped as they took in the sight of the Morai.

Clotho was holding onto a life string that was so slowly unraveling, “They are soulmates,” Clotho stated. “A bond more beautiful and truer than Helen and Paris. Yet, just like those two… their lives are doom due to outside influences interfering with their bond.”

Apollo and Aphrodite started to glow with rage. Even their anger paled in contrast with Hera’s. She planned this wedding from top to bottom. Not a single thing was to go wrong. Yet, the fates were here to tell them that their efforts were for nothing. They would ruin this occasion. The three of them began to yell loudly.

“What outside influence? We all made sure to be careful and abide by your rules,” Hera snarled. She began to glow with power. Every mortal around senses began to go off screaming danger.

Lachesis only stared at her as Apollo and Aphrodite were being held back and comforted. Even Bruce and Dick had gotten over themselves to keep Talia pinned in place. This was her son’s wedding. Hal was being held the combine willpower of the other Lanterns and the Flash [Barry and Wally]. It wouldn’t be the first time the Fates were faced with a god’s [and mortals’] anger nor would it be the last. “On the day of Kyle’s proposal, Jason managed to nick himself with one of Eros’ arrows. One of his most famed love arrows. Apollyon, you know how it feels. The cut may have healed, but that does not mean the effects were gone. And such, Kyle himself managed to accidently cut himself when returning said arrows. Why do you think Eros has disappeared?”

She was right. Eros and Psyche were gone. No one knew where they went. Kyle had been so sad to know that his favored brother wouldn’t even attend his wedding. There had been a lot of tears and anger and yells when Kyle realized that.

Atropos rose a brow, “You should all figure out a way to fix this. This is not love anymore. And you, Aphrodite knows what happens when a child a love cannot feel.”

Aphrodite did know. Her baby wouldn’t die. No, he would fade away. He would slowly lose all motor function. Then his mind will begin to break slowly. Slowly but surely, his heart will stop pumping blood until it stops completely. He would be paper thin in touch with only the slightest contact leaving his skin to peel away like ash. She felt sick. She couldn’t believe she was going through this again.

Jason had noticed that Kyle seemed different. His bright eyes were look dull and blank. His evenly spread tan seemed as if the color was seeping right out of him. Even with Apollo’s essence healing him from inside out… Kyle just seemed so drained. Jason had thought it was stress from the wedding. Kyle had been filled with nerves. He threw up on every other occasion. But now--- he was a child of love. He was a Lantern. He couldn’t not feel love. It was impossible. Kyle had to feel. He was one of the most expressive people that Jason knew. Every ring that he wielded could be traced back to love. It was why Jason always said that Aphrodite was the most powerful of the Olympians.

Jason turned to look at Kyle when he felt something shift. His teal eyes met with Kyle’s and suddenly, Jason felt this uncontrollable hunger. He loved Kyle. He needed Kyle. He could see the same desire running through Kyle’s tired eyes.

Something must have shown on his face because as soon as he began to lunge for Kyle, Talia tackled him to the ground. Aphrodite yanked Kyle away from the altar as if he was giant cat. The two of them struggled to get to each other.

Before Kyle seemed to freeze before turning away and vomiting right on the ground. Specks of blood appeared, and Aphrodite cried out in shock. Jason could only stare in horror.

Again?

Kyle was dying.