#minor deity

[k-zit-the-oooze]

Boognish

[voidingintotheshout]

You wasted money on that post

Nope.

It brought me joy and spending $10 to bring yourself joy is never a waste. The only thing that for me specifically would be a waste if I spent my money to blaze a short story that nearly nobody liked or reblogged, as I have in the past. It would be a waste of money, because I would feel worse about myself as a writer if nobody re-blogged that story, whereas anybody reblogging this is immaterial. I made a cool thing that made me smile and I wanted to share with around 2000 people. 

Bunno, king of my Flop Era: he is Important

[evilios]

I keep thinking of potential for "good dad Zeus" stories but for Olympians when they're younger/coming into power and they're making me very, very sentimental.

You're young Artemis and you're your father's daughter. You come to him first when you're upset or hurt because, intimidating as he is to many, he always holds you close, laughs fondly, and makes your distress easier to bear. You know that whoever hurt you will not sleep at night and your wounds will heal.

You're young Apollo and you're your mother's child but your father's favorite son. You and him share understanding looks that no one else comprehends. When you wake up from your first prophecy, you are terrified and confused, but you feel a steady, big, warm hand under yours and it's alright. He teaches you the art of fate. You know his mind like no other.

You're young Athena and you're your father's delight. He always finds newer and newer ways to engage your rapidly thinking mind, and he chuckles fondly at your theories. "You would be a mighty king, my child," he tells you and you know it is the highest praise though you don't delight in calls of power. You watch competitions and games standing by his side. You are, still, his greatest pride.

You're young Hermes and you always make your father laugh. He tells you stories of your mother, all scented with strawberry tree fruits and wild flowers, and you wonder how big a man's heart is to store so many loves. He chides you a little for your constant pranks but you can tell that he loves you from the little glint in his eyes. He always sits you close during banquets and listens to your stories even if they're made up.

You're young Dionysus and your father finds you perplexing. He might not understand you as well as his other children, but you watch him from afar and get him, somewhat. The grab for power and the need to keep it, the desire to make others bow to your might: you've felt it since you were much younger. Always a demanding son, always a ruthless little leopard. He'd pick you up and look at you in wonder, "you are so much like me".

You're young Ares and your father does not understand you as well because you're your mother's child. You are not as close to him as others are but that's how you are with most of your family. Deep down, he relates to you - he was much like you when he was young: taking what he's owed. As you grow older, you realize you've become the same great father he is, following in his steps.

[lesinquietes]

In which Alucard and his Deity!Darling are on a mission together, and he loses control when she gives him a glimpse of submission🪽✨

18+ (minors dni) // light almost-smut, yandere

Limerence

Alucard pins you beneath him, catching you by surprise. He clutches your wrists with rough claws. When you fall, it’s behind a set of bushes. Before you can sputter and protest, airships, no doubt seeking Hellsing presence, whizz by above you. Their bright search lights are fixed on the path you were once walking. If you would have stayed there, they would have caught you. Given the urgency of your matter, that wouldn’t have been preferable; there’s no telling how many soldiers they would have sent.

Gathered in such an intimate position, he’s shocked you’re not fighting him. He supposes you’ve learned to pick your poison. He doesn’t mean any harm to you… yet.

He waits for you to ask him to get up. You don’t. The ships have long passed. He wonders if you’re simply frozen with anticipation. He knows what that’s like, to be tantalized by the moment.

“That was close.” You mutter eventually. “They’re getting more desperate.”

“They are.” He agrees grimly. “Their interference would have been a nuisance.”

His piercing orbs trace your jawline, watching as you swallow whatever else you wanted to say. Such a pretty throat you have. The blood there is celestial. He’s never tasted the nectar of a deity before. He wonders if it’s toxic to a creature like him. If so, then maybe he was meant to perish like this, at your whim; maybe you were meant to die together.

He refuses to allow his impulses to overwhelm him. You’ve been warming up to him lately. While your edges remain quite sharp, they’ve significantly softened since your first encounter. Without the proper signals, he won’t completely cross your boundaries.

Meanwhile, you adjust beneath him. Inspecting his pale face, you think he’s rather handsome. In the moonlight, even more so. His glasses are off, revealing irises with subliminal messaging, coaxing you to submit. You huff. Vampires are a cocky breed. You’ve encounter his kind in the past. They were the same as him — snarky and sure of themselves… until they weren’t.

You’ll show him. He may be the father of all vampires, but you’re certain you’ve handled worse threats. Contrary to what he might believe, you’re not one to be dominated.

“I could have handled myself.” You whisper, eyes peering into his. “But… thank you.”

He pauses. Your energy is shifting. You’re receptive to him. After endless nights of watching over you, having you grow used to his presence, ensuring that you miss him when he’s not around — are you finally ready?

“You could have handled yourself.” The vampire echoes. “Is that why I was the one to act?”

He dips down, smooth black locks tickling your face. Brazenly, his lips brush against yours. He closes his eyes for the serene moment, taking you in. He’s amused that you don’t pull away. Yes, perhaps you want this, too.

“My sweet Goddess.” He purrs. “Have I not shown you that I’m capable of protecting you?”

You stir restlessly. He notices your thighs rubbing together, unconsciously creating friction in your lower region. You don’t seem to have any control over your physical form. Humanistic sensations are afflicting you. Lust is meant to be a foreign concept to higher beings, isn’t it? You’re reaching for a forbidden fruit.

“You… have done your best.” You admit, frowning gently. “I thanked you, didn’t I?”

“Thanked me!” He scoffs incredulously, planting a ginger kiss to your jaw. “The woman of my deepest fixations need not give me gratitude; she need only give me a fair chance.”

He indulges in your beauty, trying with every fibre of his undead being to avoid stealing a glance at your neck. His mood is different than it was a moment earlier. He wants to feed on you while he fucks you. The urge is damn near unable to be repressed.

“I want to claim you.” He confesses, voice husky and baritone. “But… I shouldn’t.”

He tries to believe what he says. He really, really does. Except he can see the panic rising on your features, and it’s driving his animalistic senses up the wall. It’s the first glimpse of your anxiety. You, a gorgeous creature, trusted a starving vampire to get this close to you.

The vulnerability you’re exuding is intoxicating. It’s making his head spin. He inhales your natural scent. His long tongue flickers out to lap upthe subtle layer of sweat on your quivering throat. That’s enough deliberation. That’s enough abstaining. He’s going to do it. He can’t stop himself.

Maybe you really are a witch, casting spells to lower his locus of control so you can vanquish him when he’s preoccupied. He chuckles darkly. That would be fun. He’s always preferred a mate he can play with prior to totally dominating them.

“My dear… you’re irresistible.”

Alucard’s fangs protrude, and he gradually sinks down to the area above your collarbone. Softly, you moan. He hums approvingly when you bear your neck for him. His mesmerizing orbs become predatorial. He’s dreamt of this moment. He going to guide you into the afterlife with him, and make you his first wife in decades.

At the last second, the tides shift.

From the heavens, a ray of light rains down on him. He notices a second too late. By the time he retracts, and leaps back from you, one of his long legs is trapped in the beam. It severs instantly. Although he doesn’t feel it, there’s a humiliation to the act which causes him to howl.

He skids to one knee and bares his teeth. With a gloved hand, he wipes the drool that dropped from the side of his mouth — evidence of his lust for you. He’s speechless. Rage and vigour twist in his chest.

You’re hovering a few inches above the ground. A bright light pours out of your eye sockets and mouth. You’re grinning at him.

“You didn’t actually think I’d willingly let you turn me, did you?” You snicker cruelly. “Foolish Dracula.”

He growls lowly. You know what it does to him when he hears you utter his name — his true alias from days of old.

“Tempting little witch.” He snarls, fangs protruding from his ajar mouth. “Why do you give me the illusion of possessing you, as if I have not spent countless nights resting on your limerence?”

He lost sight of himself. His safety ought to override his impulses. But in that moment, when he saw how submissive you — a powerful Goddess — were being to his touch, he was a slave to desire. You could have killed him with your offensive light. That excites him. You really are capable of eviscerating Anderson, aren’t you?

You return to the ground. The whiteness beaming from your eyes and mouth also tapers off. You’re back to how he recognizes you in no time, except the smirk hasn’t left your features.

“Can I rely on you to keep your mind on the mission, thirsty corpse?”

He wonders what it would be like to overpower you now. You wouldn’t let him win easily. In fact, he doesn’t know the extent of your strength just yet. You stand a good chance of destroying him. He’ll have to be patient if he wants a shot at obtaining you.

He’s coming around to the idea that it wasn’t the time to turn you. Integra would have been pissed. She was lenient when he turned Seras, but you? And in the middle of a crucial expedition, no less? She wouldn’t have shown him mercy this time. But… part of him doesn’t care; part of him — a deep, hushed voice at the back of his mind — urges him to do it anyways, that a mighty king is more than deserving of an all-powerful queen. It’s you who incites the covetous side of him.

“You can.” Alucard snickers humourlessly. “Until our work together is complete.”

Previous l

[spectral-snippets-and-drabbles]

A Martyr From the Ashes

For everyone in the fandom saying saying that Danny thinks Martian ManHunter is cooler than Superman, we don't really see it all that much in writing.

I'mma try and fix that...

~•~•~•~•~•~

The Martian Book of Legends held the heroic tale of Saint Da'han'yul Fen'tuun of Mars, a sickly albino priest of a small town that held marriages, sermons regarding life and how it should be enriched and lived to its fullest, and specialized in funerals that used cremations with fire, a feat thought to be physically impossible by the masses. As people saw him look into the flames without fear while others cowered, rumors spread that the young man was blessed by H'ronmeer himself, the Martian God of Fire, Life, and Death.

People spoke about how Da'han'yul turned down all attempts at courtship, for he had decided to dedicate his life to bring light in the darkest times to all lives in the name of his God. He was a thing of beauty with a gentle soul and shy demeanor, even the Red and Green skinned who had still held a firm belief on the caste system could not deny his charm. How the terminally ill Martian carried on his mission with a smile, nobody knew.

However, tragedy struck on the day that should have spelled the beginning of the end for the Martian people. A parasitic species had invaded the Martian Homeworld and was causing untold havoc. As civilians fled from the threat and prepared a counter offensive, it was Da'han'yul Fen'tuun who charged into the danger headfirst to save his people from becoming prey.

As others pleaded for him to run away, in a great bright flash of light, a gigantic Martian loomed over the enemy emerged where the ill Martian stood, coated in flames in a form they've never seen before with a halo and body that burned a haunting green.

The deafening silence still held as the enormous creature brought a massive fist on the giant pale walker that was destroying homes. A wave of its hand sent a wall of green flames raced towards the foot soldiers, reducing them to ash while his people and buildings were not harmed in any form without an ounce fear of these fires the creature used to purge the enemy. Within the hour, the threat had been neutralized and peace was brought back to the red planet.

As the Martian people looked to the titan, they knew. H'ronmeer's had chosen his most loyal servant, Da'han'yul, as the avatar of his wrath to smite those who would bring his people harm. The people hugged and wept tears of joy and cheered for the priest and H'ronmeer for saving them, but the tears soon became tears of sorrow.

The giant groaned in pain as he fell on one knee as it began to crumble into ash before the people's very eyes. Like a flame, Da'han'yul Fen'tuun had burned his brightest when life needed him most, and now death called to him as it slowly extinguished it to give him peace. With a final message, he pleaded to his people to come together as one and to not see one another as lesser or greater than, but as equals who can help one another in the darkest of times and the hardships yet to come. With his final moments gone, a final telepathic embrace was given to all before he fell silent for the last time.

The massive pile of ash that were his remains was brought back to his little village and made into a beautiful garden of ash in the temple where the newly titled Saint made his home in, where it would be made a holy site that many would come to give their thanks and pay their respects for H'ronmeer' and his champion alike.

And for centuries, peace was held before it was shattered by Ma'alefa'ak, who unleashed the Fire Plague to take vengeance on his people for his inability to experience the psionic way of life that was the norm. His smile as his people screamed in anguish was knocked off his face in the most literal of terms when a Martian struck him down and had him by the throat.

A Martian with eyes burning in anger as Ma'alefa'ak failed to break free and was being beaten severely for his crimes against the people of Mars. A Martian made entirely up of ash and green embers.

Saint Da'han'yul Fen'tuun had returned, if only for a moment longer. And he was not happy.

Quickly, one by one across the planet, the martians set ablaze burned a gentle green that healed them. In this miraculous act of divine intervention, not a single Martian had lost their life. Most were now unconscious with labored breathing being heard.

J'onn watched on as his brother screamed in agony as his body burst into green flames as a pool of ash began to swallow his brother whole. Before disappearing entirely, Da'han'yul told him the punishment his brother would be facing.

"Ma'alefa'ak's psionic abilities have been awoken. He will be sentenced to become a living flame until he has lived the collective life span of all that he has tried to extinguish."

J'onn was too stunned to speak. With how long a Martian can live, it was the equivalent of telling him his brother would be suffering for an eternity. It seemed unethical, but he knew his brother had dug his own grave the moment he saw the reanimated remains of Da'han'yul Fen'tuun's ashes take swift action.

"Everything will be ok now, J'onn. Go to your family and tend to them.

"Da'han'yul...Thank you. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you when you were still alive." J'onn solemnly uttered as he looked to the ground, unable to look at his deceased youngest brother.

"Nonsense J'onn, it's not your fault...The caste system...it–"

"I could've done more! Instead I saved myself instead of being there when my brothers needed me most!"

"J'onn...you were just a child."

"It makes none of it right!"

He was right in that aspect, but it still didn't feel right. Ma'alefa'ak' was ostracized by society, was treated like a freak of nature for lack of natural gifts and he wanted to burn society to the ground in the most literal of terms because of it.

While Da'han'yul, the forgotten youngest brother, was treated horribly for being albino and treated cruelly. He contracted a deadly disease when he separated himself from the family to live in isolation with other albinos that made him sickly and cut his life expectancy down severely. Knowing what befell him, seeing him struggle to move and hold down food at times while J'onn and their parents did nothing.

These tumultuous emotions sat in J'onn for so long. The way he wanted to go and help them both, but the fear of association and social punishment for merely being seen with his brothers made him cry when he younger for being so weak willed. It wasn't until their parents bragged about the sacrifice their forgotten child had made, the sone they purposely scorned made him snap.

"J'onn, promise to keep my message alive for me. Help our people become whole again."

"Of course, brother." Is what J'onn tells him as he watches his little brother vanish again for a third and final time.

[bolszaja-miedwedica]

religion is actually pretty cool its just the fandom sucks

[edwinisms]

we all know the cat king is probably at least esther’s age (probably roughly 165-175 based on oregon/washington’s history), but have we ever stopped to think about monty? like yeah as a human boy he was literally only days old, but as an entity in general? who knows when esther conjured him, but it probably wasn’t any time close to the present. so monty is technically, probably older than at least charles, and quite possibly edwin as well. who knows how many decades this corvid has seen

[aquapede]

well i could have given celebi eos an interesting backstory. maybe even given her a body count. AND survivor's guilt

[rabbit-remorse]

Understanding the situation

A tarot Spread.

'---------------------'

I made this spread for myself! Mostly I have used it for understanding my journey with my new job. I lay out this spread every few (work) days to help understand where I was, where I am, and where I need to be. I found it helps a lot with growth in how I play into the works environment, additionally, finding healthy mindsets/advice for the next few workdays.

I do have a few more tarot spreads to come.

[ironagefyxen]

Life…uh…finds a way (this is a tribute to the Chicago Rat Hole)

[thedeitywhoplayedwithbricks]

My AUs Hickdory‼️

they're my beloveds what can I say......

Process photos and close ups :3

[y-rhywbeth2]

Different game to BG3 but this still amuses me:

You encounter worshippers of Bane - they clearly mean to do you harm. The leader of the Banites approaches: 'The Banites demand gold to let you go.' [You reveal that you are also a follower of Bane, and in the name of the Black Hand, demand to be charged less for your freedom.]

Banites try and mug you for walking into their enclave and the party Banite can object: not to the mugging, to be clear. That's fair, but wow is this mugging overpriced. Bane demands you do your maths.

[chinzhilla]

the way the 4 minutes phenomenon has functioned a lot like a choose-your-own-adventure game where great has been going back and choosing the other option when it becomes apparent he's fucked up. and then this

[happyk44]

PJO: we need to recognize the value of the minor gods. The Olympians are important, sure, but the minor gods do a lot of work in maintaining and assisting the pantheon, have their own kids and deserve to be seen and valued just as much

HoO: Back at it again with Olympian-only nonsense!

[bugwolfsstuff]

Am i misunderstanding this or did wikipedia just say that the goddess/spirit of wrestling is aroace

Slightly better photo

[moeblob]

So I didn't draw it today BUT I really need to focus on commissions so I'm counting that as my art of the day despite probably not finishing one day TO post. So you get this instead.

Deacon as stated before is basically paid to be intimidating but he truly can't help but light up for the lightning deity because "that's the friend of my boss!" so he properly greets her with a "Lady Fulj" as a formality and respect. While he does respect the deity he's sworn to, he just calls him boss. That's what he gets.

He doesn't have any magical powers but he's got a strong sense of energy regardless. He can pinpoint when Fulj arrives. He can sense in the room he guards to make sure Ymber is still there (though he doesn't teleport and that's the only exit. But when Fulj visits and he's still outside he senses both deities and it puts him at ease.

What impresses Ymber immensely is the split fire deities - he can personally sense that one is around but he doesn't know which. He simply recognizes their energy as "fire deity, be on high alert". Then one day as he's getting tense over it (the fire deities like to tease him), Deacon reassures him "hey it's the guy today! I noticed he is less brutal in his comments it will be fine C:" and Ymber is stunned that he can identify which one is there before seeing them.

Deacon can also sense spirits and in Ymber's temple can actually see and hear them. But he doesn't tell them or interact, he lets them be in peace. Until he laughs at something one says and the spirits realize he's heard them for the past multiple years which is ... embarrassing. In addition to that, he can usually sense a monster out of town. On his rare walks with Ymber he's able to guide them around the monsters easily so neither one has to fight (though he gladly would fight em and he knows Ymber could one shot any of them).

He wants to be well trusted by Ymber and figures it won't happen, Ymber is simply too closed off and reserved. That's fair. Deacon assumes it's his mortality at play and why entrust him with his past experiences when he's just going to die sooner than Ymber would bother with. Which then shocks him when Fulj gets upset about "he didn't even ask for consent" and gets angry at Ymber for not telling Deacon. So she guilts Ymber to tell Deacon "um, I apologize for not asking you but I have extended your life. By a few centuries. I'm sorry" expecting Deacon to get upset at having to leave behind any loved ones as he doesn't age or die anytime soon. But! Deacon as a dedicated follower aiming to only please his boss is delighted by the trust shown by wanting to keep him around longer and proceeds to take his job as guardian/bodyguard even more seriously (which is hard to do with how serious he was before).

Anyway I won't go into the details now since this is already an essay but I've been shoving suffering onto Ymber and Fulj and why they are both like they are - withdrawn (Ymber) and enamored by humans (Fulj). But not for happy reasons.