#the votary

[themonsterghost]

d&d doodle dump, good times (cw monster blood)

[rahorarty]

marazhai my best friend marazhai

[rhianna]

Granada: votaries of Isis

Hoyland, J. (1816). A historical survey of the customs, habits, & present state of the Gypsies: designed to develope the origin of this singular people, and to promote the amelioration of their condition. York: Printed for the author, and sold by W. Alexander, York; Darton, Harvey & Co.; W. Phillips; and W. Darton, Jun. London .

[best-beelieve]

Need a Light?

[tsalmu]

Balu-Stela of votary with unidentified God & Goddess Jordan c. 900 BCE? Source: The Many Faces of the Goddess by Izak Cornelius, 2008

Male deity: Baal? Kemosh? Ashtar? Female deity: Ashirat? Ashtart? Anat?

[emlvi56]

SHIVERS - Outside, spring rain seeps into the cracks in the walls and the cobblestone streets, and into grated storm drains. All the way down into the sewers... Above ground, the first May bells blossom.

For Klaasje:

the damsel in distress

the femme fatale

the votary of le Retour

----------

BONUS: Alternate version. This was my original concept for the portrait, but I think the may bells are more evocative, but I still really like this one, so here you go:

[hurthermore]

Hi,dear!i really really love your writings like a lot! Can i maybe request a human alastor x reader who's a sister in a church,but also a killer like him?if that's okay for sure! have a good day/night:)

»»------► 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙽𝚞𝚗

Pairing:  𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙽𝚞𝚗!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Warnings: 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍, 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍

A/N: 𝙰𝙲𝙺𝙺𝙺 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞! 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 >.< 𝙰𝚗 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚗𝚒𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚟𝚎𝚒𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝚗𝚞𝚗𝚜, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍!

𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗!

Ever since Alastor was a child, his mother made it compulsory for him to attend mass every sunday, which he always did with a fabricated smile on his face; just to make his mother happy. It was a boring occurrence that Alastor found redundant; he was partial to the practice of voodoo, and therefore preferred not to partake in the catholic religion, especially once he started to grow into his adult years.

Even when Alastor began his career in the broadcasting profession, and moved out of his family home, his mother demanded that he was still to attend mass with her; she didn’t care if they rota’d him in for sunday, he was to decline performing his broadcasts that morning of the week, or he’d have his ear shouted off. And Alastor was, and never had been the type of man to let his beloved mother down, even if it were something as mundane as church. He’d attend for her.

On one particular attendance, he noticed there was one more nun designated among the monastics of the church. She stuck out like a sore thumb due to the almost sinister way her smile etched upwards on the beautiful features of her face. He’d only seen that type of smile on one other person; himself. And he’d be a fool not to be intrigued by it.

He found himself thinking more and more about the secrets hidden behind that stretching smile as the weeks passed by, his glances against her only intensified the more he attended church. He often contemplated approaching her, but she never left the stage where the pastor spoke passages from the bible, and once the sermons ended, she was always gone in the blink of an eye.

It became an agitating occurrence as the want to converse with her, to discover what type of person she was seemed almost impossible. But eventually, he finally found a chance to finally introduce himself when the church hosted a function for the annual celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. as she stood among the attendees, handing out beverages; still attiring the same smile she always did. 

Yet before he could approach her, his mother dragged him in another direction, telling him he had to greet the pastor before he dabbled in the crowd. So he obeyed, slightly irritated, but complied with his mother’s demands. As he greeted and made small talk with the Pastor, he couldn’t help but overhear a group of nuns gossiping behind him.

“Why has the Pastor put her on the beverage stand?”

“A menace to society that girl, I can’t believe he’d allow her to prattle among the votaries.”

“I know, especially with the rumours about her burning her last church down too; I swear he’s going to get us all killed.”

Alastor couldn’t help how his eyebrows raised in interest as he focused on the tittle-tattle behind him. It made him wonder; was this girl like him? Did she also have the same refined tastes for murder? With how the only reported murders in New Orleans being his own, he was doubtful of the prospect. 

As he continued to attempt to approach the woman throughout the event, person after person kept interrupting his goal. His sense of murder was becoming heightened. People were always vermin, always in the way. And by the time he finally advanced toward the place he last saw her, she had been replaced with another nun. Turning his head in different directions, he attempted to find her among the crowd; but she was nowhere to be seen. Most likely confined to the bedding area of the church.

It was as if God himself was preventing him from acquainting her.

Grunting to himself, he made his way toward his mother, informing her that he was going to get some fresh air before he made his way outside. Plucking a cigarette from his pocket, he lit it up with a match as he rested his back against the outer walls of the church.

He was pissed to say the least; furious how the numerous sacks of living meat kept disturbing his plans.

All he wanted was to acquaint himself with that god forsaken beautiful smile.

As a puff of smoke vacated his lips, he perched as he heard rustling from the heavily wooded area to his right; eerily similar to how a caught rabbit would struggle as it attempted to leave the confines of its new found prison. Squinting his eyes, Alastor began to make his way into the wooded area to investigate the noise.

The further he moved through the forage and trunks of trees, the louder the rustling became; he swore he could start to hear grunts and strangled coughs. Pausing as he finally came across a sight to behold, his eyes landed on the nun that had been consuming his mind for months now. Her robes and apostolnik were covered in splatters of dark red blood as another nun laid underneath her; her neck sliced almost in half, clearly done moments before he had arrived due to the small amount of blood that squirted from her open neck; saturating the two women in red.

As he looked at the face of the corpse, he noticed it was one of the nuns from earlier that had whispered tales of the subject of his thoughts. Offering a smile, he made his presence known to the murderous nun who had caught his attention long before; taking a heavier step than usual as a way to alert her.

Her face fully faced him, and his smile only stretched in glee as he witnessed her blood soaked face attire that same smile she always did. If she was interesting before, then she was absolutely fascinating now. As the nun gazed at him, she didn’t attempt to run or attack him, only watching his movements.

“Can I help you?”

That voice. Alastor couldn’t help but adore how angelic her tone was; a wolf dressed in sheep's clothing. Just like him. Taking step after step toward her, Alastor offered her his hand as she sat atop the limp corpse. Placing her bloodied palm in his, he pulled her up to stand, kissing the back of her hand before she could pull away.

“Perhaps, but first, let’s get you clean, dear.”

»»------► 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

[rudrjobdesk]

Votary Softech Solutions Pvt. Ltd | Software Developer | Hyderabad | jobs

Votary Softech Solutions Pvt. Ltd | Software Developer | Hyderabad | jobs

Qualification – Eligibility Criteria : (Mandatory) – BE/B.Tech/ME/M.Tech/MCA – 2013 Batch (Only Male Candidates) – Percentage – Minimum 65% – Good oral and written communication skillsWalk-In Date : On 15th May 2014 (Thursday)@ 8:00 AM sharpWalk-In Venue : Votary Softech Solutions Pvt Ltd., Level 3, Kimtee Square, Road No 12, Banjara Hills, Hyderabad Nearest Landmark: Diagonal Opposite to…

[mothenmiller]

oc down here⬇️

（silence votary）

[nobrashfestivity]

Unknown, Figures, Crete: First Palace Period The Classical World, Pre-Hellenic Era, Crete, First Palace Period, Middle Minoan Ib, II Man and woman votaries; man wearing cod-piece cloth and belt drawn tight to accentuate the slim waist, triangular dagger hanging from belt; hands raised before chest, elbows out; woman wearing bell-shaped skirt, high elevated collar, large developed "breton" on head. Pendelbury describes such figures as follows: The flesh of the women is painted dull white and that of the men red or dark brown after the Egyptian convention. It is possible that the thick padded cod-piece was necessary as a kind of primitive truss, for violent effort with an artificially constricted waist is very productive of rupture. He speaks of the fact that in Eastern Crete the use of the early triangular shape ought to have died out by the time of these figurines and fails to consider the possibility that this may be an illustration of the persistence of older forms in ritual use long after they have been abandoned for more evolved forms in daily use.

[weirdlookindog]

"These were the votaries of Lucifer the accursed ~ a ghastly crew of thirteen."

Hannes Bok - There Are Such Things

(Weird Tales - May 1941)

[satrs]

ᴅᴇᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ!

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ; you're interested in your mayjor professor? What a scandal.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ; 2.3k

Tags; NSFW CONTENT! MDNI!. age gap(reader in early 20's aki in late 30's). bit exhibitionism(risky). nicknames(sir, slut, good girl). Breeding kink. Unprotected sex.

ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀʀᴇ 18+!

It was one day, when you got introduced to your new major professor for your semester, and boom- you had a crush. A big one at that.

You just found everything about him enthralling, from his little ponytail to his stoic expressions and serious manner. But it was his mysterious private life that got you going.

Normally, some of your previous professors would at least be a bit open about their private lives, mentioning their kids or wives- but him? Nothing.

He came, taught his classes, and went on his merry way. It frustrated you. You wanted to know more about him, did he have a wife? Hopefully not. Or kids? You were good with kids, to be honest.

What was his type in women? Petite ones? Shy? Or was he a votary of the body? Voluptuous? Or did he prefer slim women?

You had an urgent need to know, to know what the likelihood of him being drawn to you would be. It was not like you wanted to build up a life with him- a good fuck would be satisfactory.

"Miss Y/N? If you're not paying attention to my teaching, you are free to leave this classroom."

Mr. Hayakawa's voice lets your hair stand on end, drawing your attention back to him at the very front of the class. Everyone turned their heads in your direction, non-readable expressions on their faces.

You were embarrassed. This was the second time, in one day that you got a warning from the one teacher you were trying to get into your panties.

Very well done Y/N. He must think you're some impolite brat, still stuck in your high school years. Chance blown.

"I-I'm sorry, it won't happen again", you mumbled under your breath while averting your gaze from your class, hoping they would soon recover their attention back to his teachings.

But his resistant gaze never wavered, piercing your skull. His eyes soon lifted, leaving a sour expression on his face.

Your heart was beating in your chest, hands growing sweaty the more you fumbled with the end of your pitiful short skirt.

His eyes quickly flickered to where your hands were, quickly swallowing the lump in his throat as he caught the sight of your plush tighs. Damned be those short dresses, and you unconsciously winding it up didn't help him at all.

His sense holding his thoughts by a thread, he returned his gaze to your face, "You should come to me after class. We should discuss your behavior to prevent future inconveniences."

Your breath hitched, fingers tightly gripping your skirt in anticipation and embarrassment, "Yes sir."

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest as the bell rang, signaling the end of this lesson. You saw Mister Hayakawa clean the chalkboard, doing some things on his table after.

You sat on your chair, glued, unable to stand up or move, eyes inspecting your professor's movements.

More and more of your classmate left the room, the atmosphere growing more quiet with every student disappearing.

Soon, you felt your professor's blue eyes bore through yours. He motioned you to move him to the front with his index and middle finger, returning to doing something on his documents.

You gathered all your courage and stood up, making your way to the front. With every step you took, you felt excitement rushing through your veins, his attention soon on you as you stood on the opposite of where he was seated.

He rested his chin on his open palm, eyeing you up and down. Did he... just look at your skirt? Oh my god, he's still looking.

"The dress code of this University clearly states to wear the skirt over the knees, not thighs." You felt your face heat up at his comment, quickly mumbling endless apologies, and adjusting your skirt correctly.

His eyes now flew to your blouse, "Your blouse it's not how it's supposed to be, is it?"

This was the worst and best day of your life at the same time. Yes, you did get humiliated in front of your class and crush, but it was your crush��who we're talking about right now.

Hands flying to your blouse to fully close the buttons, his voice made you halt your movements and glance at him through your lashes.

"Do you think I'm some dumb fuck? I know what you're doing, miss Y/N."

You bit the inside of your cheek, slyly looking anywhere but at him, "I don't know what you're talking about sir."

He let out a pity laugh at your answer, telling you to take a seat in front of him. He stood up, walking around the table until he stood right next to you, eyes glaring down at your form.

"Your skirt is always rilled up so high, blouse barely buttoned up," his fingers made contact with the wooden table, your eyes following the way his fingers neared you.

"I don't mind. I'm flattered, really.", his hand was mere inches from your face, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, "but do you know what I do mind?"

You were completely at his mercy, unable to protest nor look him in the eye. "N-no sir, I don't."

His movements stopped, hand softly taking hold of your chin, making your eyes meet his tempting ones. His gaze flickered between your eyes and mouth, unable to find rest in just one feature.

"Being rock hard during lessons because of your dirty little antics."

Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes slowly lowering to look at his pants, the imprint of his aching length visible through the fabric.

As he noticed where your eyes were fixated on, his hand slid down to the back of your neck, thumb sensually brushing it. "Be a good girl and help me out, yeah?"

You nodded and complied, hands making quick work to undo the belt on his pants, placing yourself on your knees before him while looking up at him with those eyes of yours.

Fuck, he was about to lose it. If you would continue looking at him like that, he would take you right there and then on this table. Your professor's mouth was slightly agape as you undid the last piece of his clothing, cock springing free.

You were quick to open your mouth and close it around his leaking tip. The feral growl he let out made you clench your thighs together, eager to hear more of him.

Your tongue flicked over his sensitive tip, causing the man above you to slightly hiss at your action. "Quit the teasing naughty girl. We don't got that much time."

His reminder caused you to speed up the bopping of your head, hand stroking what your mouth couldn't take in any more. His tip repeatedly hit the back of your throat, causing low moans to erupt from his lungs and you to choke around his length.

He soon was growing impatient, hand taking a firm hold of your hair, nails scraping your scalp. Your professor moved your head to a speed of his liking, throwing his head back as he steadied himself on the desk with his other hand.

And as he looked down at your form, tears welling at your eyes and brows frowning in concentration, he was about to burst right then and there. "Shit, you never look so concentrated in my lessons. What a dirty little slut."

Your mind was filled with pleasure, desperate for the man above you. You tore your mouth from his length, looking up at him with a desperate look on your face. "For you. Only for you professor. Please, I need you in me. Now."

Fuck. You'll be the death of him. His breathing was ragged, taking a glance at the clock while his chest heaved up and down from your actions. Only 25 more minutes before his new class came in. The both of you would need to be quick, or he would lose his job and you, your scholarship if anyone were to walk in on you both in such a scandalous act.

His eyes returned to your face, motioning you to get up to your feet. "We need to be quick alright?" You nodded quickly, understanding his intentions as you jumped onto his desk, quick to spread your legs.

He stood right between them, admiring your state for a second. Hair out of place and face completely drenched in utter desire- for him. Oh how long he had longed to have you like this. He could finally touch those thighs he always gawked at, the panties he only always caught a glips off now fully laid on display for him.

His hand was quick to lift your thigh, his still hard tip coming in contact with your aching clit in the process, causing you to let out a desperate mewl.

He cursed under his breath at the feeling, hand squeezing your thigh lightly.

He knew that he shouldn't do this-hell, the both of you knew. But this was what the both of you longed for for so so long. And now that you and he were able to give into your sinful thoughts and make them a reality, you couldn't find the strength to think about right and wrong.

His eyes were fixated between your legs, wet puddle on your panties, the outline of your glistening pussy visible through the thin fabric.

"Sir." your voice made him look up at you, eyes hanging low in pleasure. "Please." That was all it took him to slide your panties to the side, taking in the view of your aching heat, motioning his tip through your folds.

You bit your lip at the feeling, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you threw your head back at the feeling of his cock against your desperate cunt.

"Oh fuck.", he muttered, eyes closed as he pushed his cock into your warm heat, walls wrapping tightly around him as he bottomed out. "So fucking tight. Should've done this- fuck! earlier."

His hips began to move at a steady pace, his hand tightly gripping your thigh while his other hand was occupied with the bottom of your blouse, tearing it down before foundling your breasts.

You failed at the attempt of hiding your moans of pleasure, loud whines, and mewls filling the classroom alongside the slapping of skin.

"So good! s' so good!" you were a mess. Hair disheveled and face a complete filth sight: drool escaping the sides of your mouth while your tongue threatened to hang out of your mouth.

„Good, huh? Who‘s making this filthy pussy feel good?“ the man above you questioned, still hitting every spot imaginable inside of you, walls molding around his cock. The hand on your thigh placed a stinging slap on it, causing you to yelp in its grasp.

„You sir. Only you.“ Your legs began to betray you, turning into jelly as your trembling body reached its limit. Your orgasm hit you in an intense wave, causing you to bite into your hand in an attempt to muffle your loud moans. „Fuckfuckfuck!“

The relentless pounding of the dark-haired male soon began to flatter, him also nearing his orgasm with every clench of your tight and desperate cunt, longing to milk him dry. „I‘m gonna cum inside you yeah pretty? Make a mess in you, stuff you full.

You whined in response, overstimulated cunt grabbing his throbbing cock like a vice. „Yes sir! Please fill me up. ‚Want it so bad!“ That was all it took, your whiny voice, desperate look, and the hold you had around his neck, mere inches apart from his lips as you desperately rutted your hips into his. „Fuck.“

His head flew into your neck, biting down onto it, not too hard, but intense enough for you to hiss at the feeling. His movements halted and you felt his hot fluid paint your walls, a satisfying sigh escaping from the both of you.

He stayed like that for a brief minute, the both of you coming down from your intense orgasms. Your grip on his shoulders eased, and heavy breathing soon calmed down.

You felt his hot breath against your neck, a tingling sensation rushing through your body at the feeling. He lifted his head, eyes landing on the clock behind you as he cursed under his breath, emptiness filling your body as he slid out of you, some of his cum decorating your folds in a glistening white color.

He retreated into his pants, clearing his throat in an attempt to catch your attention. „Fix up pretty girl. Or do you want your classmates to see you like this?“ You jumped to your feet in fear at his words, quickly wiggling yourself back into your panties and speeding up your movements as you heard the sound of the bell, signaling the next lesson incoming.

The sound of people approaching and chattering filled your ears, looking at your professor in hectic as you adjusted your skirt and hair. He only lazily smirked at you, straightening the wrinkles of his shirt. „You got lessons too, right? You better hurry, don‘t wanna come in late right?“

You were shocked by his smirk and unbothered statement, pursing your lips together as you grabbed your stuff, ready to leave the room. The first students already came in, barely acknowledging you- to your luck.

„Miss Y/N.“ The sound of your name made you turn on your heels, looking at the man behind you. His gaze was fixated on your blouse, a light bite mark from his previous actions still visible. Your eyes wandered to where his eyes where pupils widening in realization as you quickly bottomed up your blouse to hide the mark he left on your delicate skin.

„We should discuss your current grade later. Please meet me after your last lesson. I think there‘s a need for an adjustment.“

©︎𝐊-𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐒. all rights reserved. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[constanzarte]

Edwin Long - A Votary of Isis

[gallusrostromegalus]

Whats your favorite lore in the fic thats not likely to ever come up?

I'm picturing this fic as an animated series in my head and there are certain visual elements I can only sort of work into the text (because a veiwer of an anime would notice but someone living in-universe would not) but:

-Anubis and the other Gods are always portrayed with only one side visible to the viewer, and flat/without shading, like they're hieroglyphics. At least until they decide to affect the Material plane and suddenly they become much better rendered and 3-Dimensional.

-Funny Bunny is animated relative to Pegasus *exactly* the same way Rodger Rabbit is relative to Detective Valentine.

-It's mentioned a bit but Ammit is constantly shape-shifting which parts of her are Lioness, crocodile, or hippopotamus. Anubis and Thoth both Shift from Dog/Bird to Human-With-Animal-Head formats as needed for DRAMA. [REDACTED FOR SPOILERS] who also has appeared on page changes sizes based on how much trouble they think their Votary is in.

-TK is animated at a higher frame rate than everyone else, because he's had 5,000 years of practice being a ghost, and Yami is animated at a lower frame rate than everyone else for a while while he learns. Both of them ignore conservation of mass and shape when they're ghosts, mostly manifesting in "wearing what their host is, but longer/floatier and trailing off into aesthetically pleasing shapes, rather than anything fabric would realistically do" and "Floating along with minimal effort like they're kites being dragged along by the Items."

-Yugi literally has to take two steps for every one of Seto's.

-Both Shadis have extremely symmetrical faces. Like. Uncannily symmetrical. But they don't have the same face, because each is a mirror image of the half a face they grew back from.

-People do the Himuro Arakawa thing where they turn into minimalist blobs when something stupid happens, and the JJBA thing where their faces suddenly over-render when the situation gets serious.

-Everyone else has Black pupils but Bakura's are always extremely dark blue-green because even in normal lighting his tapetum lucidum are always a bit visible.

-Odion's face markings are white/pale pink because they're the result of ritual scarification (like Marik's back markings), not tattoos. Even though they're in Hawai'i right now, Marik always keeps his back and shoulders covered, and Odion always keeps his arms, legs and upper back covered as well.

-All three Ishtar siblings have substantial crimp to their hair. Odion and Ishizu braid theirs- Odion has thicker braids with beaded caps at the ends and Ishizu has thinner ones with spiraled ends. Marik wears his hair in twists most of the time.

-Tristan's hair looks like a thicker, brunette version of TinTin's from the 3-D animated movie. Téa has a Phyrne Fisher 1920's bob. Joey has somehow developed a reverse mullet in much the same way one develops a septic infection. Bakura has what the kids are calling a "Wolf Cut" but it's really a "tried to trim the split ends and bangs out of his face in the bathroom mirror at 3 AM with kitchen scissors and NO instructions" cut.

-Yugi's hair is straight-up anime bullshit where I've decided that humans have mutated a new type of stiff guard hair follicle like you find on bears and boars. It's very stiff but smooth and weirdly pettable.

-I don't know how this deviated into hairstyles but there you go.

[best-beelieve]

It took months for him to tell me his name (6, I think?), and when he did I was so gobsmacked I just sat there. Tried to absorb the knowledge, tried hard to make sure I wasn’t talking to myself. Or someone else was fucking with me. I only had his word to go on, and I could only weigh that against my outspoken vow to never, ever have anything to do with him.

(Which … yeah I know that was just waving a big chunk of bloody meat at him. Bummer I didn’t figure that out before I just as loudly said the same thing about Odin. Fool me once it’s no surprise. Fool me twice … it really isn’t either. I’m not often the brightest bulb in the string.)

Anyway. Point being I just sat there with my metaphorical jaw hanging open and my wheels spinning fruitlessly until he said talk to [ ].

So I talked to them. Left a message, explained the situation, and, idk, did I ask for advice? I mean, yeah I’m sure I did, I just don’t remember how I asked. But whatever it was, their (paraphrased) reply was “Loki can give you back your life when someone/something tries to take it away.”

And that’s all it took. Those words changed everything for me because how the fuck could I resist such an idea? It was beyond temptation – at that point there was simply no other choice I could make.

~*~

Back in September I said I was going to be writing again, about him and for him. I was so wrong. What was a shining moment of hope, of light, that we could get back to where it started turned out to be just another oncoming train. The last four months haven’t been the worst of the last few years, but they were bad enough. Worse in all news ways, maybe that’s what it comes down to. Or maybe just worse because for a few bright, shining days I thought the darkness was past.

And here I am, back on the tracks once more. The light is so bright, I know it’s a train this time, but will it run me over, or stop and pick me up to take me to him?

~*~

Here’s another thing I’ve learned: hope hurts worse than despair.

I wonder what his take is on that. I wish I could ask him – which, I could, of course, there’s nothing stopping me … except knowing I won’t be able to hear his answer. Not now anyway. Maybe one day again. It’s hard to imagine it. Equally hard to imagine that September 22 will forever be the last time.

Sometimes I can feel him, off to the side somewhere, sitting on a fence, or a wall, stack of boxes, whatever is close enough for him to perch on. Waiting patiently for me to catch up. Watching me, chin in hand and eyes burning steady.

I don’t need to hear him to know he understands. He’s well acquainted with relentless physical pain, with deep mental and emotional trauma. Being bound by (and bound to) something in ways you can’t easily break free of.

Someone is whispering in my head right now. This time I’m pretty sure it’s just me - but I'm also pretty sure this would be his answer:

It doesn’t matter how much it hurts. You choose it anyway.

Because at the end of the day, any other choice is unthinkable.

But also because it’s the only one that will lead back to him.

[wifeglor]

crazy how maglor can be maedhros' wife and widow and side chick and pawn and entertainer and muscle and second-in-command and votary and confidant and knight and publicist and dream and challenge and addiction and responsibility all at once and his little brother too...