@belchiaroscuro.bsky.social Does Margo still need help with her house?

Tired.

He steps into the wilderness and the light strips the world of softness. The hills rise in chalk-coloured folds, edges blurred by heat. Wind skims sand across stone, erasing his footprints almost as soon as he makes them.

Yesh jerked awake with a sound that didn’t quite make it past his teeth. The room was the same—dark, close, quiet. Dust, olive oil, yesterday’s bread. His blanket twisted round his legs like it meant to hold him down.

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 . . . 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 ❤️&🔄 #𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐑𝐏 𝐗 #𝐌𝐕𝐑𝐏

Oh, I give up!!

@childofstheno.bsky.social *Clings. All the clinging.*

@childofstheno.bsky.social “Aspis?”

It's very quiet today.

Yeshua blinked, turning his solemn gaze toward her as though she had just revealed a divine mystery. “So the fire hides in the wires,” he murmured, peering closer at the slot. “And the building feeds it? Like… a house-sized hearth.” -

Yeshua sat cross-legged on the floor of the cramped apartment, staring at the unfamiliar glow of the toaster. “It swallowed my bread,” he announced solemnly. “And now it hums like it is plotting something.”

@belchiaroscuro.bsky.social The rain had been steady all morning, turning the narrow London streets slick and silver. By the time he reached the old townhouse on the corner — the one with ivy crawling stubbornly up its brick façade — Yeshua was damp through his jacket but didn’t seem to mind. -

Yeshua hunched over the bench, muttering to himself as his hands swept up the sawdust. “Hnh, look at this—costs me near half a week’s wage for timber, and what do I get? Crooked boards and knots thicker than a camel’s knee.” He tapped the plank with a finger, scowling at it as though it might

Woodshavings littered the dusty floor of his workshop. Caught in the breeze, they danced and twirled in little eddies. Tools hung from various hooks and fastenings on the walls. Those that weren’t stored away were scattered across the workbenches. Saws, chisels, hammers and nails to name a few. -

Beat me 、hate me. You can never break me.

Yeshua’s brow furrowed deeper, the words echoing in his chest with both comfort and unease. “I do not belong…” he murmured, almost tasting the truth of it, though the air still pressed heavy against his skin. His eyes swept the unseen distance beyond Hades’ throne, the unseen depths-

Yeshua’s head tilted at the thunder of the voice, his eyes lifting toward the shadowed figure that claimed this place. The words seemed to shake the air itself, but he only pressed his lips together, steadying his breath. “Lost…” he echoed, almost to himself. His sandals

@styxlord.bsky.social Yeshua blinked at the figure before him, his body wavering as though he had stumbled into a place not wholly of the living nor the dead. The air itself felt different here—heavy, humming with something deep and ancient.-

Anubis. Mictlantecuhtli. Thanatos. A god of many names but known to all. God of Death. Guide of Souls. Weigher of Hearts. ~ 21+ #SmutlessRP ~ #MythologyRP ~ A pantheistic portrayal ~ MV/Selectively MS Penned by #Scripturient

Lord oғ тнe Uɴderworld, Keeper oғ тнe Deαd, αɴd Sovereιɢɴ oғ Weαlтн. Broтнer тo Zeυѕ αɴd Poѕeιdoɴ, нe drew тнe loт oғ ѕнαdow αɴd ѕιleɴce, rυlιɴɢ тнe υɴѕeeɴ reαlм вeɴeαтн тнe eαrтн. Feαred вy мorтαlѕ αɴd reѕpecтed вy ɢodѕ, Hαdeѕ ιѕ ɴoт deαтн ιтѕelғ вυт ιтѕ wαrdeɴ, eɴѕυrιɴɢ вαlαɴce вeтweeɴ ☆☆

@sigynsetfree.bsky.social *Squints. Blinks.* Sorry… wrong pantheon?

"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me.” ~ Charlotte Brontë ~ AU Sigyn Iwáldidottir ~ 21+ #SmutlessRP ~ #MarvelRP #MythologyRP Penned by #Scripturient

“You can’t run from the Shadow, but you can invite it to dance.” ~ Margo Lane ~ 21+ #SmutlessRP ~ #TheShadow #DC #Marvel ~ #Noir ~ MV/Selectively MS Penned by #Scripturient

@samsonegypt.bsky.social Yeshua stood quietly in the cool shadow of the stone corridor, the faint echo of iron-shod sandals clanging against the marble floor announcing the approach of the guard. His wrists bore no chains—yet the air of captivity hung heavy all the same.

Under the weight of the midday sun, Yeshua sat upon a worn stone near the edge of the marketplace, his back to the bustle. The smell of roasting fish and crushed herbs drifted past him, carried on the wind from a nearby stall.

Layla El-Faouly “A beautiful thing is never perfect.” ~ Egyptian Proverb ~ Archaeologist, Superhero, and French Poetry Aficionado ~ 21+ #SmutlessRP ~ #Marvel #MoonKnight ~ MV/Selectively MS Penned by #Scripturient

@childofstheno.bsky.social *Ahem*

Lonely.

Bound. Afraid. Alone.

“It’s all right - I promise - it’ll be all right..”

“AHH! Uh.. hello.”