#miasma

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

"Miasma" by The Phantom Painter

[phantoms-finger-tapes]

He's a runner, he's a track star 🏃💨

[midnight-moth]

Insomnia self soothing by watching every Miasma video I can find. Just - he only does it for a second. When he pushes the body of the guitar to bend the sound. It scratches my brain ALMOST as good as the super vibrato he does.

This is from Irving Texas, clip is from tr3m0r45 on YouTube

[alsostheon]

Spiritual Pollution in Hellenic Polytheism

In Helpol, we have three concepts known as lyma, miasma, and agos.

To some, humans are seen as naturally pure beings, but because we are living mortal creatures, spiritual dirt can cling to us and make us impure.

Here, I will discuss these three types of pollution

(Disclaimer: Some of this information comes from my own personal interpretations, and therefore may not apply to the beliefs of everyone)

Lyma

Lyma means "something to be washed away". Itis generally just physical dirt. It isn't much of a big deal when it comes to spiritual matters. However, it is still best to be free of it when approaching the gods.

Miasma

This is where things get complicated.

Miasma is essentially general spiritual pollution. Miasma is something that is completely unavoidable and should not be shamed (well, depending on the cause). Miasma is mainly caused by things related to life and death. This includes sex, childbirth, visiting a cemetery, blood, sexual fluids, etc.

However, miasma has different degrees of severity. More severe miasma comes from acts such as rape, hubris, murder, etc.

Miasma also spreads from people to people. If you walk past someone on the street who just came back from a funeral, their miasma will cling to you as well. This also highlights how unavoidable miasma is. But usually, this kind of indirect miasma is not as bad.

We are not allowed to approach the gods in a state of miasma. Luckily, miasma is not difficult to get rid off (excluding the more severe cases listed above).

All you need to do is wash your hands.

If you get a cut on your leg, the blood is miasmic and therefore you can't approach the gods. But all you need to do is wait for the bleeding to stop, wash away the blood, wash your hands, and then you're good to go.

There is a debate I once had on whether miasma prevents us from praying, giving offerings, and participating in festivals. To me, the answer is yes, but not with prayers. Let me explain why.

In a very simplified description of a certain myth, Orestes killed his mother. This caused him to enter a state of severe miasma and a state of agos (which I will explain later). Long story short, he prayed and asked Apollon to help purify him, in return for a grand offering later on. Apollon heard the prayer and came to help purify Orestes.

In this example, we see that Orestes was still able to pray to Apollon in the worst state of miasma, but promised to give offerings later on.

This implies that prayer is not an issue with miasma.

Here is another example: You don't need to wash your hands when talking to someone, but you should wash your hands if you want to give that person food.

In a similar way, in my opinion, you don't need to wash your hands for a casual prayer, but you should wash them before giving an offering. Although, I also prefer not to pray when I know I am in a miasmic state.

However, this is my own interpretation and others may have different views.

There are other ways to cleanse miasma such as khernips, incense, and scapegoats.

Ocean water is also said to cleanse miasma extremely well.

Agos

Agos is a cursed state and is the most extreme form of spiritual pollution. However, agos is not easy to get.

If you commit a horrible act such as murder, you will be in a state of extreme miasma. However, when the gods notice your crime and get enraged (keep in mind that it is usually not that easy to anger the gods), the miasma evolves into agos.

Miasma is a naturally occurring thing, but agos only comes from the wrath of the gods.

Agos is difficult to remove and is a pretty big deal.

Luckily, you don't need to worry about agos unless you're a horrible person who commits heinous acts.

Aaaand that is my interpretation of spiritual pollution in Helpol. I hope this post can be helpful to you!

Blessed be!

[forlorn-crows]

Crow my love will you pretty please tell me all about how Rain fucks Swiss' mouth the night Swiss kneels for him on stage? <3

i cant stop thinking about it. swiss was made to kneel for rain, i think. made to let rain tower over him and fuck his face 'til he's dazed and bleary-eyed. but he's gotta be smug about it too, right?

in a crazy turn of events, rain is cis for once. i know, i can't believe it either. crow writing rain with dick and balls? unheard of. and yet, here we are. mainly bc i am unwell about the idea of rain having a knot.

anyway. woe facefucking w/tiny mention of oral knotting be upon ye. this ones also for @askingforthesun >:)

EDIT: now w/a companion art piece by the wonderful @floating-goblin-art❤️

“Just like that,” Rain groans, pulling Swiss closer by the hair until his nose nudges the little nest of curls at the base of his cock. “Yeah, take it all.”

Swiss hums around him, sending a shiver up his spine. Still smirking despite a mouthful of cock and water ghoul slick coating his throat. 

It’s unfair, really. But it turns Rain on like no other. Confidence and desire cutting him deep through that hazel-eyed gaze. Swiss’ throat milking him for all he���s got while he grabs at Rain’s perky ass. And the noises. Lucifer, the noises he makes, all of them rumbling through his core. Straight-up sinful.

Rain loves every minute that Swiss spends kneeling for him.

“Bet you hmpf wanted to do this on stage. Get my cock out for all those people. Show them how feral you can really be, huh?” Swiss’ eyes flutter when Rain grips his locs tighter, but he holds steady. Humming an affirmative and muffled uh huh while tonguing along the underside of his length. Pushing his lips flush to his groin and swallowing hard.

Rain swears and tosses his head back, knees going a little weak. “Lucifer, your mouth . . .” 

Swiss pulls off with a pop, wiping the drool from his chin and stroking him with a coy look. Fangs out and far too handsome for his own good.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, you dirty voyeur.” He gives a lick to Rain’s dripping tip, flat over the slit like he’s tasting a popsicle. And again, squeezing from base to tip so milky-white pre dribbles onto his tongue. Rain’s eyes roll back against his will, tingling right down to his toes at the sight of his own slick pooling in Swiss’ mouth. 

The multi ghoul swallows, licking his lips. “You’re so easy, rainbow,” he chides. “Get’cha wobbly over a few strokes.”

“Shut up,” Rain bites back. But it's a token protest, given how his fingers start loosening their grip on Swiss’ locs the longer he pumps his fist. 

He snorts. “You like my dirty mouth,” he says, pitching his voice lower on purpose so Rain’s stomach will swoop. “Just as good talking as it is taking, isn’t it?”

He shakes his head, biting back a groan. He regains the grip on his hair and takes a step forward, caging in Swiss’ body between and under his legs, looming over him just enough that he has to put a hand behind him for balance. Rain’s tail snaps behind him, eyes darkening as he brings his gaze back down. Cool and calculating. Swiss challenges it, of course, grinning as he strokes his cock over the long column of his throat.

“Put it back in,” the water ghoul hisses. Control seeping back into his voice, that commanding tone Swiss loves so much. Rain bats his hand away and replaces it with his own, cupping the multi’s chin with the other. Digging his thumb into the side of his jaw until he relents, opening wide and letting his tongue loll out. Ready and waiting to be fed.

“That’s better,” he lilts. “And you say I’m easy.” Rain doesn’t give him space to reply, immediately rubbing the dusky lilac head of his cock over the flat of his tongue, letting his taste buds push the foreskin back and forth a little before sinking back in.  

Swiss gags like he does every time his cock pushes past the back of his throat, muscles trying to force Rain out despite the eager way he takes him down. But he likes the tension, the resistance. Leans into it as he thrusts all the way down to the base with a satisfied sigh. 

Rain looks down his nose at him. Cocking his head when Swiss makes the smallest of noises. “Do you want me to really use you, pretty boy?” he asks, voice sharp and equally as saccharine. “Make you take it until you can’t anymore?”

The multi ghoul’s eyebrows dart up in the middle as a visible wave of arousal runs down his spine. A puff of air rushing out of his nose and color rising to his cheeks. He’s weak for this, and Rain knows it—abuses the fact, really, when it’s time to get his way. 

Swiss is a big ghoul, though; he can take it, masochist that he is. So he hums a sound that means yes, nodding as much as he can with Rain holding his face steady. 

He knows Swiss is hard in his pants without even looking. 

“Good,” he purrs, brushing a stray tear off of his cheek. A bit of softness before he starts thrusting in earnest, aiming to fuck his throat raw. Get his balls slapping against his chin and coated in Swiss’ desperate drool. Inch by wet inch, over and over until Swiss really gives in.

When Rain’s knot inevitably swells some time later, he tells him, reedy, wounded, and oh so desperate, to take it. Not fucking stopping. That’s it—squeeze it. Can’t stop. Lucifer, take it, you have to—all of it, Swiss, all of it.

[copias-thrall]

Miasma

Bridgeport 8/20/23

[s-e-c-t-i-o-n-8]

[nureyevs-worst-alias]

The internal uproar was fucking hysterical when I first found out that Rita and Miasma are both voiced by Kate Jones. The range is absolutely baffling

[sanguinebutch]

recently i’ve noticed a lot of people [cough tiktok cough] treat the concept of Miasma like it’s the Hellenic equivalent of Christian sin, and it makes me very upset. i know that they probably come from families and communities that have drilled that into their heads, 1) is it completely ahistorical and 2) it just sucks???

you are not going to Hellenismos Super Hell, i promise. Miasma is something we all have to deal with. it is a part of life that nobody can avoid. Katharsis is not Christian purity, and Miasma is not Christian sin. we can tell when you don’t do your research.

[arradraws]

Yoυ Βlαcκεd ⊝υt ···

[echo-derp]

I just finished this and I'm so proud :3

Took me 3 days to do this!

[loruleanhistorian]

Did you know?

The symbol that represents Ganondorf's secret stone is based on the kanji 闇 (yami), meaning “the dark; darkness”. His power is literally the power of darkness~!

[theautismcorner]

It doesn’t have words but it’s one of my favorite ghost songs bc it scratches my brain, especially the saxophone part

[midnight-moth]

Miasma - An oppressive or unpleasant atmosphere which surrounds or emanates from places known or unknown.

[forlorn-crows]

Crowwwww can you tell me about how much Dew likes it when Dr Aether wears those stretchy blue gloves pls :3

i hate you. look what you've made me do. now there's lube and cum and piss all over the place. fucking. save me doctor aether.

dew better not be fucking allergic to latex. nitrile doesnt sound as nice to write so he's getting latex.

cw: 1.8k of med kink, light bondage, and a nice wet handy with a finger up the ass. dewther banter. overstim leading to piss at the end. you might think dew is the menace here, but you'd be wrong. so wrong.

“Snap ‘em,” Dew says, licking his lips. “Snap the—yeah, fuck.”

Aether snaps the latex around his wrists, once, twice. Revels in the shiver that visibly runs up Dew’s spine. His cock drifts upwards towards his stomach, having flagged a bit while the quint ghoul tied each limb to the four posters of his bed frame. But it springs up now, pleasantly plump just from him putting the bright blue medical gloves over his thick hands. 

Dew wriggles against his holds, eyes lidded. “Want ‘em, Aethe,” he begs simply.

“I can see that.” Aether quirks up an eyebrow, idly smoothing his hands together. The gloves make a soft sound as they rub against each other, one that has Dew letting out an undignified whine.

Aether stops moving his hands, chuckling softly. He puts his hands on his hips and looks at Dew, eyes roaming over every inch of ashen skin laid bare for him.

The fire ghoul wriggles again, tossing his head back against the sheets. “Aether,” he groans. 

“You’re cute when you squirm. Why do you like these so much, hm?” He reaches out slowly with one finger, pressing the latex-covered pad to the arch of his foot. He draws a line from Dew’s pointy ankle bone to the inside of his thigh, watching goosebumps rise in its wake. 

“Lucifer, hah–oh,” Dew hisses.

“It’s just my finger.”

“No it’s not.”

Aether rolls his eyes. Trails his finger a little higher. “So what is it, then?” He’s just below the swell of Dew’s skinny thigh, almost to the crease between his leg and his groin. Dangerous territory. 

Dew cranes his neck to see, throat bobbing when he swallows hard. “Feels weird. Good weird.” He keens when Aether puts his entire hand on his thigh, gripping slightly. “Fuck. Like, it’s your hand, but it’s not, and you’re looking at me like—”

“Like what?”

Dew groans, dropping his head back down as Aether’s hand gets closer. “Fu-cking smug and shit,” he says, screwing his eyes shut. His cock kicks in anticipation, and a drop of precum drools down the head of it and falls onto his stomach. “‘S hot.”

Aether lets go of his thigh, moving his hand upward to hover over his cock. Dew tenses and arches up, sensing it there. But the quintessence ghoul moves it too quickly, reaching instead to swipe through the pearl of precum on his skin and catch it on the tip of his glove. 

Dew’s eyes fly open, going exponentially darker when he sees the shine of his own pre on the latex. “Gimme your finger,” he rasps. Kicks his feet against the ropes. “You gotta put it in.”

“Okay, bossy,” Aether smirks, smearing the little bit of fluid onto Dew’s knee. “Just one?” he lilts.

It’s teasing, because he knows Dew wants exactly that. He wants the clinical feel of it all: one finger right where he wants it, just shy of any purposeful stimulation or stretch. A probing more than anything. 

He nods fervently, grasping the ties around his hands. He tries to pull himself up to watch the other ghoul better.  “Yeah, yeah, with the lube.”

Aether grabs the bottle sitting next to Dew’s ribs and squirts a generous amount of the viscous, medical-grade lube onto his middle finger. The stuff sits on the glove, hardly moving as he turns his hand around to show the little ghoul, fingers wiggling. 

Dew groans bodily, bucking his hips up against nothing. 

“Relax,” Aether lilts, half teasing, half soothing—purposefully reminiscent of his usual infirmary bedside manner. He smears the cold gel around Dew’s hole, watching as his face contorts in all sorts of pleasured emotion. Far too excited, really, for one finger. The finger that’s not just a finger. 

He’d tease him for it if he wasn’t so busy making him moan like a whore just by swirling a gloved digit over his rim. 

“Lemme have it, Aethe,” Dew grunts, trying in vain to spear himself on it. His cock wags in the air, more precum slicking down the shaft. “C’mon, you know you wanna stick it in this tight little—ffuuuucking hells yes.”

Aether presses in with ease, sliding home in one motion. He crooks his finger, earning a little gurgling noise and a jerk of the binds from his mate. 

“Running a little hotter than normal,” he comments offhandedly. A nod to the role Dew not-so-secretly wants him to play, clad in a white coat with the sterile smell of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant masking his usual effervescent ozone. It’s a fantasy for another time, another setting. Right now, just the hint of the image—courtesy of the gloves and the timbre of his voice—does a fine job of making him needy and breathless. 

Dew’s cock kicks again, bobbing upwards. “Fuckin’ wiggle it,” he grits out. “Yeah, get in there.” 

“I am. Needy.” Aether huffs.

“Needy for you to touch me,” Dew bites back. “Get that—hah—get that glove on my di-i-ick.” His voice cracks when Aether presses upwards. Petting at that soft spot just inside. 

“Uh huh.” The quintessence ghoul grabs the lube again, flicking it open with his thumb and promptly squeezing out a fat glob right onto his cock. 

“Cold,” Dew hisses. But he bites his lip and looks down with hazy eyes anyway, watching the way the gel glistens in the lamp light. 

“Let me warm it up then,” he rumbles. Aether runs one finger through it first, smearing the lube along the vein that runs down the underside. A shudder runs through Dew’s entire body. He tosses his head back and snaps his tail, arching sharply at the too-light touch. 

“Fuck, Aethe—”

“Shh,” he soothes, still tracing lines over his cock to get it shiny and wet. Swirling through the lube over and over, coating even the tops of his balls and in between the sensitive foreskin. “Let me take care of you.” 

Aether wraps his fingers around him fully, encasing his cock in a slippery latex grip. Dew practically howls, clenching tightly around that one finger and bucking into Aether’s fist.

“Oh Lucifer,” he wails. “Like that, just like—uh-huh-nholy shit.” 

“You don’t have to do any work,” the quintessence ghoul reminds him as he starts to pull at Dew’s cock. “Just lie there and be good for me.”

Dew’s eyes get big then, like a switch going off in his brain. His crooked fangs poke out over his swollen bottom lip as he sucks half of it into his mouth, and he gives Aether a frantic nod. 

“That’s right,” he smiles. “Drop that pretty head back down. There you go.” 

Aether’s smooth tone has Dew’s eyes rolling back with a quiet whimper, a crimson blush seeping down his face and into the hollow of his throat. His toes curl against the sheets, thighs attempting to press together when Aether twists his hand just so. He only succeeds in pulling the binds taught with a reedy whine. Half gone and plenty desperate. 

Aether’s hand slides frictionless along his cock, latex smeared with lube and the precum now steadily leaking out. It’s borderline obscene, the noise it all makes. But the way the slick sound mixes with Dew’s soft noises is some sort of sin all its own—an odd one, sure, with the gloves between them. But it’s an intoxicating sin all the same. 

It’s some time before Dew can even think to speak again. His entire body has stiffened under Aether’s careful ministrations, muscles tensing and cock hard and throbbing in his hand. 

“Ssshhiiittt,” he hisses. “‘M close,” he chokes out, “‘m so fuckin’ close.”

The quint ghoul presses against his prostate just to make him whimper. “Yeah? You’ve done so well, love. Want me to go faster?”

“Uh huh,” Dew whines. “Please, wanna cum on them.” He tosses his head back and forth with a low groan, getting louder the faster Aether strokes him.

“That’s it—”

“Fuck, ‘m gonna—”

“—all the way, cum for me, let me see it—”

“Aethe oh ohfuuuuck—” Dew clenches his hands into fists around the rope and pulls tight, his cock spitting out cum all over his stomach and Aether’s knuckles. He shoots so hard some of it reaches his stiff nipples, little droplets of white coating the shiny silver barbells running through them. He swears incoherently, clenching around the finger in his ass so tightly he nearly pushes it right out. 

“D-don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—” Dew begs, fixing wide eyes on the ghoul above him. He fights them from rolling right back, babbling: “Don’ you fucking stop—Aethe—please.”

“Yeah?” he rasps. The hand still flying over Dew’s cock turns creamy white on the inside of his fist as he milks him for all he’s worth. “Wanna squirt for me?”

Dew chokes on a moan, slipping quickly into overstimulation. “Yes,” he gasps, thrashing his legs. “Make me, fucking make me.”

“All over. All over my hand,” Aether agrees, the idea sending a surge of guilty pleasure right to his core. He tightens his hand, doubling down—just shy of torture, really. And the fire ghoul yelps, face twisted in pleasure-pain, his cheeks turning a bright crimson. 

It only takes a few more calculated jerks of his hand before he squirts, each stroke wringing out a filthy hot stream and a pained groan. Over and over until his voice is raw and his heaving chest is covered in his own mess. 

“Lucifer, stop fuck,” Dew pleads after a long minute, twitching away from Aether’s hand.

“Fuck,” Aether echoes dazedly as he finally pulls out and away from him. He’s quiet for a moment, watching as Dew sags back onto the mattress and sucks in lungfuls of air. Utterly fucked out and wrung dry. He looks down at his fingers, the gloved digits covered in lube, cum, and piss. Then he looks back at the ghoul spread out before him, so beautifully wrecked from just his hands. 

“Wouldn’t take much to get you to cum dry like this, would it?” he asks breathlessly and a little bit giddy.

Dew blinks a few tears away and furrows his brow, dazed and far too fuzzy to process the statement at normal speed. His throat bobs as he tries to re-wet his mouth, the gears in his mind visibly turning and clicking into place. “Shit, Aether, what?” he slurs.

Aether’s mouth twitches up in a momentary smirk. He presses that gloved finger back against his rim, making him squirm against the binds. “Here. If I just . . . gave you one more. Could you cum like that?”

The fire ghoul looks at him, eyes nearly black with how much his pupils are blown out. He can only whimper, craning his neck down to watch Aether’s hand move against his hole. Slow, deliberate. Tantalizing. He presses back in, only as far as the first knuckle. When he wiggles it a bit, Dew’s eyebrows quirk up in the middle, and he nods with his gaze fixed firmly on Aether’s hands. 

“Let’s try it, then.”

[copias-thrall]

Princess Core

Mansfield 8/19/23