#the only cult I want to be a part of | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

apple-orchards-writings · 3 months

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two hubbies that co-own you :) they pamper you and organize sacrifices while you fall asleep in their laps <3

^^^^^^^ IF YOU DON'T ELABORATE ON THIS I. WILL. PERISH!!! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE APPLE YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THAT REPLY GOT ME JSJBDBRBDJRJR

Every morning you wake up, in both of your lovers' arms. Everything feels right with the world. You try to get up and get dressed, but they don't want you to, stay in bed with them and enjoy the morning, who cares if they have duties. After you manage to convince them to get out of bed (probably after some morning sex, let's be real), they'll bicker over what jewellery you should wear the gold one with white accents or the black one with green accents.

They ultimately settle on both, complete with your usual collar, both of their names written on the little tag. Before they can start fighting on what you wear, you call in your handmaidens, and they help you choose a nice outfit, not too revealing, but still enough for your picky lovers to be satisfied. The next step is to have a nice breakfast, and today it's Sydney's turn to have you on his lap, though you both know that by the end of the meal, Kylar will have joined you, envious as he is.

When you move to the audience room to hear petitioners, you move next to Kylar's seat, and he enthusiastically grabs at you, dragging you in his lap and holding you there so you can fall asleep in his arms. He keeps you there for the rest of the morning, barely even listening to the people making demands, more focused on your steady breathing and the way you look so sweet and pliant, just for him (and Sydney).

Lunch time comes around, and Kylar wakes you up, smiling down at your sleepy face. All three of you get a nice lunch in the boudoir, your lovers refusing to let you do the slightest bit of work, insisting on feeding you. Usually this would also be a time to have some fun, but you're a bit too sleepy for that today, maybe later.

You let yourself drift off a little more in your lovers' embrace for a little longer, until you have to move to another part of the temple to witness the sacrifices. Not your favorite part of the day, but it is necessary, and Kylar will not let you skip out on it. You're about to get up when Sydney gathers you up in his big beefy arms and smiles down at you, carrying you to the altar room.

There, in between the two thrones, sits a nice, comfortable bean bag with a blanket, which you promptly wrap yourself in, curling up while you let Kylar do all the talking. His hand comes down to pet your head, brushing through your hair, and you lean into it before grabbing one of the books you left here last time, and diving into it, forgetting all about the sacrifice. You're only taken out of it when hearing the screams of the victim, but Sydney covers your eyes and shushes you gently when you turn to look, not to protect your innocence really, but mostly to have your full attention on him.

He motions for you to sit on his lap, and you climb to sit, facing him. You don't have to wonder what compelled him to ask you for long, because he's already grinding on you, not focusing on anything around the two of you anymore. He's panting quietly in your ear, hands holding onto your hips to push you down on him, telling you to be quiet in hushed whispers. You look to your left, and Kylar is struggling to not stare at you, you can see his jaw clenching and his fists crunching up his robes.

Sydney's going faster now, biting his lip to try and stay silent, and you can feel his hard on now, even with the robes in the way. Your little gasps and whimpers have not escaped Kylar's notice, and he seems to have teared up his robes with how hard he's clutching them. You reach out to at least hold his hand, which he gratefully takes and brings to his mouth, sucking on your fingers.

Sydney's noticed your little noises too, and decides to kiss you to shut you both up effectively, which works a little, until he's biting and sucking at your lip. His hand moves to disrobe himself slightly, making you feel the heat of him even more. When you expect it to move away when he's done displacing his clothing, he instead takes the opportunity to slip his hand in your underwear, stroking at your core.

He's now sucking on your neck uncaring of any moans that slip out of you. His only goal is to make you cum now, he needs you to finish before him. He speeds up, his hand moving even faster and his hips thrusting harder. In a few short strokes, you come undone, and he allows himself to let go, ruining your outfit.

Before you can turn around to face the group of flustered cultists, you hear Kylar order for the proceedings to finish immediately, before he takes you from Sydney's arms and carries you to the bedchamber. He's determined to have his turn.

Once you're done with that, which is to say, a few hours later, you rejoin Sydney in the dining room, finally getting your own chair for the first time today. All three of you discuss advancements in the cult or the book you're reading lately, basically making pleasant conversation, before you're done eating and servants come to take away the empty plates.

You're then guided to your private bathroom by your lovers, who insist on holding your hands, even if you remind them you know where it is by now. They help you undress and wash, fondly lathering you in soap as you return the favor, fooling around and splashing each other, leaving responsibilities behind, in this moment you three can just be loving, and not care about the world outside. There are no fights, no arguments here, only tenderness and pure unadulterated love.

When all of you are squeaky clean and the water is getting cold, you relocate to your bedchambers, where you can prepare for a full night's rest, if nothing, or rather no one, disturbs your sleep tonight. You slip into bed, awaiting your lovers to cuddle and let yourself drift off in their arms again, until you wake up the next morning, ready to tackle the next day.

#man how did this turn to smut i just wanted to write a schedule kinda #how did it go over 1k #how is it exactly 1069 words what #also sorry for not writing the kylar part of the smut but my brain is already fried there is only so much i can take guys lmao #IM FINALLY FUCKING DONE OH MY GOD WOOO #apple's writing #cult leader kylar #kylar the loner #dol kylar #dol sydney #sydney the fallen #kylsyd #cult sydney #sydlar

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justarandomlambblog · 2 days

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(Part 1)

The second shackle comes off

Get adopted and feel loved, mangey cat

We're gonna pretend I didn't give Heket the wrong shaped crown aight? aught 👍

(explanation beneath the cut bc I didn't want dialogue)

The harvest comes. Narinder can't help but notice how sad the wheat fields are, the wheat growing small and patchy at best. He remembers how Heket would make the wheat fields flourish just by walking between the stalks. The memory of the fields she would create early in their godhood makes him feel somber, realizing now what the cost of being a godless land is; their entire lives are left to the limitations of the earth, without any god to help them thrive. These people are making the best of what they have, and they're happy even though it's not a lot.

Narinder notices some are harvesting wheat while others till the earth once it's been harvested, and the old dog explains that once this wheat is harvested they plant "winter wheat", which can be harvested in the spring before they plant their summer wheat. They till and fertilize the earth before planting the winter wheat, of course. Narinder tries his hand at harvesting the wheat, and the old dog begins to teach him how to use the sickle. Time passes.

Over the late summer, autumn and winter, Narinder learns how to live this provincial, modest life. He tills the fields with the other villagers, he sees feral beasts for the first time in over a thousand years, learns to collect eggs from said feral beasts, learns how and decides he doesn't like to collect milk (the godless lands have more feral beasts than the Lands of the Old Faith ever did), has finally regained enough strength to draw water from the village well without help, learns to bake bread (with great amounts of help so as to not waste the precious resources with the inevitable first fifty failures), and attends his first lantern festival. All in all, this marks his approach to his second year here, most of his first year spent indoors recovering. (His fur is also getting long, something something new me new hair something (totally not an excuse for me to draw hair))

At his first lantern festival, Narinder decides to partake in what is usually a coming of age tradition for the village; he gets an ear piercing, choosing a symbol that will essentially act as his written name. He chooses a symbol that is a crescent moon inside of a sun, thinking of Aym and Baal when he sees it. (Note: He is not scared/nervous about the ear piercing, he isn't bothered by a literal pinprick of pain, but the fact that someone he barely knows is this close with a needle is what worries him)

Later on, days or even weeks later, the old dog gives him a chain with their individual symbols on it, with a loose chain hanging from the other side of Narinder's sun-and-moon charm. Narinder questions this and the old dog explains the symbolism behind the charms; two charms with a chain extending between them indicates marriage/partnership, and two charms with another charm on the chain between them indicates that couple's child/children. The one Narinder has is the latter, with the second parent's charm missing, indicating that the old dog views Narinder as his own son, now. It takes a moment, but Narinder realizes all at once that this is the old dog's way of extending an invitation to become family- and it's been so long since Narinder had a family... (And yes, the old dog is fully aware that this cat is thousands of years old (Narinder was very vocal about this in the first weeks before he eventually stopped bringing it up), but that won't stop him from deciding he's gonna be this abandoned, fallen god's new family)

Narinder goes to sleep, and finds that despite everything- despite how simple and quaint and, frankly, not easy life in this little godless village is, he's happy. He has none of the luxuries that he had as a Bishop; no worship, no reverence, no servants, no silks or satins or veils or anything of the sort. Here he's just... one of the people. Just another face in the crowd. And he's happy. Happier than he's been in a long time. Unfortunately for Narinder, he is failing to realize that this godless village is a little less godless every day he's there. But that's not necessarily a bad thing.

The village wakes up to their fields flourishing like they never have before. The wheat is taller than the tallest villager, and no one is really sure what to do about this, but there is excitement throughout the village. Narinder thinks of Heket again, reminded once more how she would make the fields come alive. The shackle on his left hand opens up before dispersing into light, and he remembers the way she looked at him in the days leading up to his imprisonment, the quiet and somber warnings she would give him. He takes a moment to grieve before turning his attention back to the present, back to the family he's creating now.

#cult of the lamb #justa arts #sketch #cotl au #fumkin Narinder Finds Peace au (not its actual name I have no name for it)#Narinder #cotl ocs #I'll name that old dog one day I love him #wip #<- technically #if only bc once I finish all the... 'prequel' parts ig I want to digitize it #still have Kallamar's shackle and then Narinder coming to peace with Shamura (tho there is no shackle for them)#so at least two more parts #but I want to draw more for this AU even after the prequel/prologue is done ehehe #I just like the idea of Narinder finding peace in a simple life #and not even realizing that he's essentially becoming the village's resident god and accidentally blessing stuff #just the idea of Narinder coming to love something that once upon a time he'd have looked at with scorn and probably destroy....#the strength and power that once would have been used to crusade now being used to protect.....#new lease on life babeyyy he's gonna become so gosh darn protective of this village y'all it won't be funny (but will be wholesome)#also just to clarify Heket is NOT actually here even as a ghost as she is in superhe- I mean purgatory rn #they are echoes of a memory (just like Leshy was) that Narinder is recalling #he has no idea that they're in Purgatory and assumes they've moved onto the Afterlife by now

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coulsonlives · 9 months

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I just had to share this video because holy shit, it hits the nail right on the head! So well spoken. This stuff needs to be circulated more, esp with the growing number of people thinking they have this because of misinformation, or just outright faking it.

#it's painful because i knew someone who personally faked this stuff (or has convinced herself she has it i can't even tell)#she had spent all her time on tiktok and i know for 100% sure that's where she got the idea. it's TRAGIC how fast things went downhill #i'm legit horrified at how many people (esp young kids of 13-14) think they have this too. or are just pretending #i've been neck deep in hardcore research (and i'm talking pubmed sciencedirect etc only) for months #and those kids definitely don't have did.. if they have trauma and are dissociating it's going to be something else like dpdr etc #the number of stupid 'you have did' answers i see for totally basic questions like 'i got dizzy what's wrong w me' is insane too #it's like googling 'muscle twitch' and then thinking you have some rare 1/billion familial cancer thing despite other obvious explanations #but worse.. in these cases the information is being fed to them. they don't have an opportunity to explore other possibilities #and the worst part is they don't even know to CHECK THE VALIDITY OF WHAT THESE PEOPLE ARE SAYING. they don't have info literacy #like i'll say this once: did is so rare that it's STILL contentious about whether it even exists #and it only happens in the most unimaginably traumatic experiences. think of the worst possible things you could do to a child #where even just thinking about it makes you uncomfortable. THAT'S the kind of trauma that leads to did. the truly evil stuff.#i'm not even gonna start on the BITE model shenanigans that are happening in the 'did' communities either #or how the people who used to be in them (and got out) always equate them to self-harming cults that celebrated not finding real answers #they got told they were 'perfect the way they were' despite having OBVIOUS psychological issues they needed help for #(it just wasn't did)#they were assured their 'did was valid no matter what'. toxic positivity ig? it just delayed their real diagnosis and ability to get help #but now you have gluts of people like in the video 'talking to themselves' and people on tumblr posting one-liners of 'alters' talking #one after the other within seconds. and i want to fcking cry because it's the same exact shit my friend did before she cut ties #the did/tourettes/ftlb stuff has literally been called a 'mass sociogenic illness' in multiple academic studies #but like qanon believers they seem to immediately discredit anyone who mentions this with 'you're just ableist' so anything you say is poo #aka you're part of the problem you're an 'ableist' so your legit info even though legit isn't valid/acceptable/real/whatever. i'm tired fam #did #dissociative identity disorder #osdd #ddnos #munchausen syndrome #mass psychogenic illness #ableism

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sunlessea · 7 months

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when werewolves and vampires are mortal enemies but then u have a ship where they hold hands it rly hits different

#i want.... romeo n juliet werewolfvampiremance ships #my heart #also vampire hunters and vampires #aaaaa #part of the reason i only rp w my fiance so much on here is cuz i know i RLY need to do more work on bios #but if ur someone who doesn't mind me not having my shit together i am always here for plots #my dms are always open #looks off into the distance one day i will have this blog so put together besties...#` ✞ ooc. ⁞ cults are london’s most successful pyramid scheme.

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hpdculture-is · 6 months

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HPD culture is being glad you have enough unique childhood trauma so you don’t have to lie to get people’s attention

#trauma mention #actually histrionic #actually cluster b #actually hpd #cluster b #endo safe #hpd #histrionic pd #histrionic personality disorder #hpd culture is #sysmeds dni #actually traumatised #childhood trauma #we only experienced physical emotional and verbal abuse in childhood and parts of early adulthood #we feel like this is usually not something ppl see as severe and just write off as “discipline”#so I will admit at times Ive wanted to lie that I am a csa victim or some shit #so ppl would take my trauma seriously even though as far as I am aware I just dont have that specific trauma #or any cult or RA or grooming shit #sometimes I feel this way about being a victim of physical abuse bc I know ppl take solely emotional or solely verbal abuse WAY less seriou #than they take physical abuse especially if it result in injuries like ours did

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poisonouspastels · 8 months

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@beegswaz genuinely i think my favorite tags on any of my work ever. i fucking love when people talk abt my characters like this

#its like blorbo from my show but with fucking minecraft and i love it deeply #for the record both Groda and White Eyes get socialized in the modern world like feral cats #both by the main players but it does happen at different times bc they all encountered Groda first when she held Rana hostage for bait #she'd kinda gone crazy after all those years of isolation lol #did that bc she thought Herobrine was the knight who betrayed her during the time period where people were wanting to overthrow her #(the knight worked for the royal family and was one of Groda's childhood friends. that did not last needless to say)#thankfully at the end of the day all 4 of the main players managed to get out alive though not unharmed with Groda in tow #when there's something trying to kill you every other day in this universe though they honestly cant be too mad about it #it doesnt help that Groda is just Really Stupid sometimes (all the time)#she's literally Peridot from SU in that she seems really intimidating but in hindsight is a massive dork #and also the fact that is the voice i imagine her having its so good #once her ability to use magic is taken away she's literally just like a scared feral street cat. does not know what the FUCK is going on #also rendering her communication with 3/4ths of the players useless since she only knows Galactic and no one alive knows that but Herobrine #(not helping the coincidental similarities to the knight but thats not him) she'll learn commonspeak later tho #ironically later down the line when Groda is spotted by the cult getting her magic back will be a key part in taking down White Eyes #she really does want to change for the better but she needed a LOT of shit kicked into her in order to start actually making the change #that being said when White Eyes eventually gets integrated it IS On Sight #she has had to been quite literally pried of Groda AT LEAST once by the others in order to keep from killing her #but other than that she'll be okay :) she picks up painting eventually #her open wounds are finally able to heal over once released from the influence of the Wither but she's still scarred unfortunately #mentally and physically!#but its only up from here... right?#actually since I talked abt the players first encounter with Groda im gonna reblog that aftermath comic again it still fucks #minecraft au mastertag

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ehlnofay · 1 year

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19 for the worldbuilding prompts + Torr?

the profound quiet of a small settlement at night

North Eastmarch is freezing cold all over, but it wears different outside the city than within.

Torr would never call Windhelm warm – not even in summer months, no matter how used to it they are – but what little heat it has it clings to with great determination. The walls huddle together, trapping the air so that it’s either still and muggy or a howling wind, like each close-knit house is breathing in tandem. The heat of the people run up and down its streets, blood through its knotted stone veins. The city is alive, an ecosystem unto itself; its snow, dark with footprints, runs sludgy down the roads; a fireplace is always burning somewhere.

Outside of the walls, surrounded by nothing but empty air and snow-laden trees, a slow-moving stream running with barely a burble – it feels dead, in contrast. Silent. Branches reach needle-sharp across the blue-black sky, the ground is gleaming white and undisturbed by anyone else’s footprints, and the nearest fire is the barely visible gleam of the Kynesgrove mining camp, up the hill and through the sporadic spindles of the trees. The breeze ghosts past Torr’s neck and whips the mud-stained snow into a flurry.

In the city, Torr’s comfortable sleeping almost anywhere – as comfortable as they ever get, anyway. Some of the buildings have great gaps under the porch where the snow can’t reach and no-one ever finds them; there’s places in the nooks of the walls, and sheds built into the side of the house that people don’t lock, and Torr knows a few people besides who don’t mind him kipping on their floor every now and again, as long as he doesn’t ask too often. The outside isn’t like that. There’s not many places to go. He’s lurking around Kynesgrove tonight – on his way back from a quick venture out to get some things done that pay better than running errands around the markets – and there aren’t many options. The inn, which he can’t afford – the mine, which would be warm but is very guarded – the miner’s encampment or someone’s house, both of which would most likely result in being chased off. Besides, there’s a performative element to meeting people, especially adults, in strange places, and Torr’s not in the mood to play to strangers. So much of his being is caught up in Windhelm’s grimy alleys, tangled in the hair and fingers of its discarded children; he doesn’t know how to be himself away from it all.

But they don’t have to, seeing as there’s the rickety old sawmill on the edge of a stream feeding into the harbour. It’s not bad, as shelter goes; no walls, so the wind rubs its fingers wraithlike down Torr’s cheeks and tangles them in his hair, but at least there’s a roof. It looks newly thatched, too, the floorboards free of rot, the water-wheel still chugging creakily along. There’s no wood to cut here, all the nearby surrounding trees too scraggy to be worth the bother. The only big ones are part of the grove up on the hill. There’s no point in keeping the mill running, but Torr is glad it is; he watches the distant firelight flickering through the scrub, and listens to the splashing of the wheel. It’s proof that people and the things they make do still exist – if not necessarily here.

It really feels dead, out in the cold, with the leafless trees and the wind that doesn’t even whisper. It always does. It’s a bit discomfiting, which is maybe why Torr doesn’t go on out-of-city endeavours as often as perhaps he could; but really, there’s not work out here enough to make it worth it. There’s always problems with bandits on the road, but Torr’s not a good enough fighter for bounty work; there’s collecting plants and things to sell Nurelion, but that’s easy enough to do on a day trip. (And, really, it’s more for Torr’s own enjoyment, besides. They never even venture far south enough to get to the sulphur pools, which is where the more interesting things grow.)

This trip, though, is an outlier. Unusually efficient. Just a quick job for Niranye, scouting a merchant’s cart on the road – almost definitely for something shady, but that’s not Torr’s business, and it was too much money too easy to turn down. And then – just earlier today, foraging out in the wilderness as best as Torr (a distinctly urban animal) knows how – they’d come across a giant’s corpse, stiff and white as the snow it lay in. Torr’s no master alchemist but they know the value of a cadaver when it comes to brewing alloys and admixtures, so they set to with their blunt-edged dagger and now they’ve got a sack full of what may as well be gold. (Long as it doesn’t start to rot before they can get Nurelion to preserve it, anyway.)

Torr’s going to be rolling in it when they get back to Windhelm. They could use that money for nearly anything – pay off a few things they borrowed, new warm things now that winter’s coming back strong, bedrolls, waterskins. Endless options – which, strangely, is more exciting than it is burdensome.

It’s all the sort of decision that would ordinarily feel life-or-death urgent but right now feels – not small. Not insignificant, not at all, but distant. A choice to be made at another time, by another person.

(Torr’s whole being belongs to Windhelm’s back streets. They’re someone else, away from it all.)

That’s the other thing about leaving the city, spending time in the discomfiting slow-paced ghost-world outside. It’s quiet. Torr sits surrounded by the wind in the trees, the lazy murmur of the stream, the creak of the water-wheel, and nothing else.

He’s been called a worrywart (mostly by Griss in a strop) but to tell the truth he doesn’t think that’s true. Torr doesn’t fuss for the sake of fussing, he just doesn’t like to leave things undone; can’t stop until he finds a solution. Out here, alone, in the empty cold, there are no solutions to find – same old problems back home, he knows, but no steps he can take at this time to right them. That’s never true while he’s in the city, so he can never stop thinking about it, every choice and action accompanied by a buzzing background chorus of everything else he really should be doing – that really should have been done by now – that should never have been left undone this long, what was he thinking? Everything is urgent when it’s doable. But here and now, there’s nothing to do.

So Torr sits hunched on the board floor of the ramshackle watermill, huddled among their heaps of bags and blankets, and thinks of nothing at all.

Not strictly true. They think of supper – haven’t eaten since an apple this morning, except for some snowberries they found around noon, and it’s been a long day. They nabbed some turnips from the garden of the Kynesgrove inn on their way to the mill. They’re fresh, if nothing else – also covered in dirt, so Torr rises reluctantly from their pile of stuff to crouch on the banks of the stream and dip the vegetables in to clean them off. It aches like hell, the frozen water turning their joints to ice – they almost drop the turnip they’re washing, so they scrub it as best they can with the frigid pad of their thumb and whip their hands out of the water soon as they’re able. They stick their fingers in their mouth to warm them back up.

Even after all that time spent warming up their hands, arraying all their belongings back around themself to conserve body heat, the turnips are still cold enough to hurt Torr’s teeth when he bites in. He eats them anyway, relishing a little in the unearthly silence and the aching of his lips and palms. They taste delicious.

With nothing else to do after, the gnawing of his stomach sated, he wraps himself in his shawl and stares up the hill at the camp’s fire until it goes out. The stars wink into brighter being. The wind whistles through the whip-thin branches of the trees. The water-wheel creaks.

Torr sleeps, but he feels like he hears it all – a silent observer, an echo, a beginning – until morning.

#I considered doing something with post-questline torr for this #but it would have been so fucking sad #and I didn't want to write something that was so fucking sad!#I'll post about torr after the horrors eventually but Not Today.#this was also initially supposed to be an exercise in writing something short that focused more on a distinctive atmosphere #than a scene or character study as most of my pieces are.#oops.#snowballed into an absolute monster of a ramble.#maybe sometime I'll use these prompts to write Actually Short pieces with more of a focus on the worldbuilding aspect...#would be good practice. everything I've written lately has been a thousand words minimum.#I could write about my minor characters or npcs with it too... yeah I think I'll do that at some stage #but. anyway. I quite like this piece as a sort of study #I fucking love writing characters who are having a nice time. with just a hint. just a whisper. of the problems #I enjoyed putting in the reference to the alchemical giant's toes especially because that is an allusion no-one but me understands #to a line in one of my very bad very early pieces on torr #it's not well written but I loved that bit because it's such a wonderful microcosm of the way torr is even before the murder cult thing #Yes he's the busiest most hardworking caretaking boy in the world taking trips into the wilderness (comparatively) to feed his family #and Yes his first instinct on seeing a corpse is to cut it up and sell it for parts #(he's done this to human bodies too but only in extremely specific circumstances. the risk of legal repercussions is too great otherwise)#I'll make a post rambling sometime about torr's ethical system because I'm so obsessed with them and their unhinged point of view #Anyway #done rambling #my writing #fay writes #oc tag #torr #the elder srolls #tes #skyrim #tesblr

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