As some may have noticed, I removed a few tiers and options over the past few days. Namely, the Paintreon aspect has been removed entirely, added to the Name a Model which had little interest overall. Two of the high tiers were also removed, largely because of a lack of support, and the other having been a joke more than anything that had already burned me once.
With this cleanup however, I've also adjusted the benefits of tiers, including reworking the HST on them to be appropriate. The important part is that with the 3$ now the main tier, I've upgraded the above tiers.
I would still prefer a lot of low-tier supporters, but I've decided that I want to appreciate those that support me more. So, for the 5$+ tiers, there is now a Commission Priority reward.
I'm constantly asked about commissions, even when I'm on long stints lacking releases due to working on long projects, so for those tiers, whenever commissions open there will be a post here at least a week in advance in order to announce it. In addition, ever commission cycle, there will be two slots guaranteed for Patrons with their names in the credits.
The third slot will go public after Patrons have had their opportunity. If things fill up too much with projects I like, they might end up always going to Patrons. My usual rules and pricing will apply as normal, but this will allow those that keep me running to have a better chance of getting in my works list.
A few caveats. The length of projects always varies, so there's no guarantee of when comms open. This means there's not going to be the chance of just joining when they go live, unless by luck or guessing well based on my release schedule. When they do, I'll likely be giving preference to those who've been in the tier waiting longer, or haven't had a chance to get a commission yet. I will also be more open, if I'm in the middle of a cycle and a couple of pieces are out of the pile, to potentially accept commissions from here before any announcements, though that largely depends on if they tickle my interest (which wanes like the tides when I'm interested in writing a particular fetish or concept).
So, yeah, I think that's about everything. It's been a rough time since learning about the theft, and I've been wanting to properly incentivize Patreon and make it worth it to support my independent work. We'll see how this goes if additional things need to be considered for it.
You can read a bit more about what happened and my feelings here, but the TLDR on the matter is I'm not happy. There is an account in the 1$ tier, I suspect I know which one, that's been mirroring my low-value content to a third part site.
This has meant previews have been leaked, art I worked with others for, the death of my friend which was kept private, have all been leaked out. It has devalued my work, and those that support me for that little, by making it all readily available. While I cannot access view numbers, there are 25 people there whom have favorited the mirrored work. That's nearly double the amount that actually support me.
I normally wouldn't care. I recognize with piracy, it's not someone who'd be paying anyway. Even myself, I'll hunt down out of print RPG books in order to play with my friends, or backup files of games I own in order to make sure they outlive the hardware life. I do not condemn those people with interest in my work who can't afford it, I'm flattered.
However, I do condemn the one doing the stealing. If this was just my public posts, like some of my other fellow artists (of the 38000+ who've been stolen from there), I wouldn't care. But this was paid, and personal information. I'm no million dollar corporation, I'm living with bugs in my cupboards, barely staying above water; and even that isn't guaranteed as I move forward. Stealing from the poor is frankly disgusting.
As a result, I have moved a number of works to higher tiers, and issued a first wave of complaints to this site. I have spoken to a lawyer, and other creators, and we will see how things go moving forward in that regard. In terms of here, there will no longer be content for sub-support tiers, and I will be monitoring my Patronage closely as well as this site in the meantime. If I catch any more content being stolen, I will know who's done it, and while it might not do much, I will be bringing down the banhammer.
while a bit more obscure in the lexicon, since Miko is a high-tier voting story, nonetheless, art was wanted of the displaced shrine maiden with the mysterious powers. Frankly, I can't wait to write more, but Syntech still soars in terms of the 10$ Patron votes. Some day though.
Multiverse theory is quite interesting, is it not? The counterpart to the Menagerie's Matty in The Flower of Syntech, Doctor Materia Steele, head scientist behind the current Alpha Project.
Her present iteration on the left. The young prodigy with a debt to Ryan and little else on her focus other than the completion of her work. She has a long road ahead to the epilogue becoming a mother, and finally to the unforseen future entwined with another world to become a beauty and head of a large family of her own making.
Art by the wonderful Mutti, a pleasure to work with as always to get these dreams on paper.
Amazing work as always by Mutti, findable through Discord (in the server). Always tip well! They work so hard and always put their all into every piece.
The recent painted mini, and Pathfinder character, Kimiko! She's been super fun to play, and the right kind of silly character for lewd adventures. Here we have her struggling with her lewd thoughts, all while her lustful phantom does all she can to encourage her to do it!
Feels bad there was such a big rush of preview only for this one to be delayed. But it's been a rough time. Thankfully, we're back on track before Mini Comms begin.
"So used to constant interruptions though, the ginger’s plan for the day was finished before the halfway point of the class. She couldn’t just let them out; even with a day like today, they were behind. She didn’t have anything to immediately jump into either.
“Are there any questions?” she asked, her textbook awkwardly tucked under her bloated bust as she spoke without realizing it, “If not, then how about we take a moment to do the problems at the end of the chapter, and I can help out with any clarifications before you’re left to it on your own as homework.”
A hand shot up at the front, stretched high to get her teacher’s attention. “Yes, Esther?”
Her hand came down, a shy smile on her lips as the girl adjusted her glasses, brushing a lock on her brunette hair over her ear. “I was wondering, Miss Holt, if maybe you might come over and check some things for me?”
It was unusual for any of them to single themselves out like that. Again though, Rose wasn’t going to question the situation. One of her students was being brave enough to ask for help, she wasn’t going to turn her down.
“Sure,” she offered in a light tone, non-judgemental to hopefully encourage the others if they might need it as well.
There was a spark of excitement in her again; this was the job she’d always wanted after all. It also had her just a tad too giddy as she made her way to the front rows. Her heels were clicking, half-bound chest bouncing a little more than she intended in her sweater.
The others were stealing glances from the corners of their eyes, pretending to continue their way through the solutions. Rose could feel the heat building in her cheeks again, as well as “other places”. She couldn’t recall ever being this horny before. There was a spike around this time of the month, sure; but, like the swelling, it had never been this bad before.
She needed to push through though. Just another hour of class, where her students were in need of her. Closing up her posture, to try and keep her peeking bust from making another escape attempt, she slipped herself between the desks to check what she’d been called for.
“So,” the buxom educator leaned in, nearly jumping back when she felt one of her boobs trying to roll out of its cup, “w-what did you need my help with, Esther?”
The girl rest her elbow on the desk, bicep gently nudging her chest, her fingers idly twirling one of her bangs that had managed to escape. She raked her teeth over her lower lip, gaze idly leaping between the swell of boob only a few inches from her face and shyly into the opposite direction with a pale tint pink in her cheeks. “Just wanted you to take a look,” she folded her arms over, covering her textbook as she pressed her own chest through the new window she’d made, “maybe you like what you see?”
Rose mentally stalled, needing a moment to process the question; what was being asked, what was happening. Her gaze was inadvertently drawn right to where her student wanted, to where her boobs were pressing together into a tempting little cleavage in her low cut top. There was the lightest bit of billowing, creamy flesh ever so slightly pouring out of the top of her sports bra.
Putting along, the ginger beauty’s mind was setting off red flags. Had Esther come to class wearing something so provocative? The educator had been in something of a rush, to say nothing of the other issues she was having, maybe she’d just missed it? More pressing though, even if they hadn’t had the best student-teacher relationship, Esther had been her student for more than half a semester; and those flags were screaming she wasn’t normally this big.
A push up bra maybe? No, Rose could see it herself, it was a stretchy, sporty type; at best, it’d have a little padding to keep things in place. The longer she stared, the more she started to notice it. Each few breaths that doughy overflow poured out the lightest bit more. Hardly perceptible but for the occasional light brush of tight fabric on skin.
“I’ll take that as a yes?” Esther’s voice broke her from her observation.
Her green eyes blinked, coming up and catching where her student was looking to come to this assumption. Her gaze was tilted down, teeth raking across her lip with a lewd little grin. Following, Rose’s heart dropped into the pit of her gut.
Her half-fallen bra. Her left breast had more than overflowed, leaving her nipple rubbing on the inside of her sweater; hard as diamond.
The ginger’s freckles disappeared into a sea of red. Conflicting reactions left her frozen, looking around the room to see just how many of her students had noticed. All of them, it seemed, but worse, Esther wasn’t the only one going through changes.
Charged, her eyes were jumping all over. Chests starting to overflow their containers, tents in pants she wanted to write off as just erections were growing longer, stretching down pant legs. The worst part: she couldn’t recall being so horny in her life.
They were her students though! It was a conflict of interest, a gross abuse of power dynamics that could end with her fired before her career really took off. Yet here she was, actually considering it.
Reflex took over. Rose snapped upright, one hand slapping over her obvious nipple in a futile attempt to salvage whatever was left of her modesty. A new problem arose with it, her face struggling between her embarrassment and going pale at what she could feel against her palm; her nipple was wet.
“I, uh,” she stammered, stumbling backwards and nearly missing the aisle step. More eyes were on her, more stirrings within jeans that called out for her attention. “B-bathroom!” she panicked, turning on her heel in a dash for the door, “Keep working on those problems!”
Even braced against her hand, she was jiggling out of control. Her other bra strap gave up the ghost halfway there, and the vigorous movement of her tits jumping up and slamming down in her, at this point barely half cups, was forcing her stretched band further down her core. By the time she tore her way into the women’s room, her one hand was soaked, and there was a damp, dark stream coming off her right teat and nearly ready to start dripping on the floor.
Not private enough yet, anyone could walk in on her. The teacher shuffled herself to the back of the room, the corner most stall, and locked herself away to inspect the damage properly.
Her sweater came off in one fell swoop, tossed across the back of the toilet in her confined little prison. “What’s happening to me?” she muttered at the sight of her udders.
They were bigger than this morning; they had to be. Her bra was all but destroyed, warped out of shape with what were by the tag a triple D cup doing nothing but acting as awkward platforms for her massive melons. And the leaking. There were glistening streams, thin and pale white, coming from her lust-swollen nipples and drizzling down in a cacophony of shallow droplets.
“What’s wrong with me?” a better question, as one hand came up.
Feeling what she knew to be warm milk across her fingers as she cupped her swollen tit, she gave an experimental squeeze. They were so tight, so full, she couldn’t help a gasp of pleasure as a pressurized spurt arced from her stiff teat across the stall. She couldn’t hold it back any more, her loins were on fire, screaming out for the satisfaction she was denying herself. Her teeth buried themselves into her plush bottom lip to muffle herself, as with a mad fervour she scrambled to one-handedly get out of her pants." - A Violet for a Rose by Madam Materia
Did some minor reworking of Tiers. I removed the Name A Model some time ago due to a lack of back and forth with it (one ghosted, another was half-finished and stuck waiting, etc.) The 25$ tier was also unused, so I shifted one benefit back from it to make up for the removal of NaM, and save myself a bit of effort. So, the 10$ tier is now fully capable of voting and reading originals.
To make up for this difference on my end though, the voting for originals will be going from "all voted get 1500 words" to only the highest voted getting the 1500. Mainly this is to keep on my commission train, instead of having a total of 6500 words to do every month (nearly a third of a professional work) in just Patreon rewards.
Hitting the ground running back into comms, two previews in about a weekend? That there's good pace to be back on. So, without further ado, the inciting incident of this little tale.
"The pair finished tea over the evening, each going their own ways until the sun set and replaced that orange glow with a more blanket dark. Rose retreated to grade what she’d actually received from her students, and Violet got to once more take over the living room to sort her mess.
“Don’t stay up too late,” the redhead chided. Her concern seemed almost motherly, until the educator in her revealed itself, “You’ll need your full attention for your classes tomorrow.”
“I won’t,” it was a blatant lie, but she couldn’t exactly go making her roommate fret; she needed her asleep for what she had planned.
When you want something though, waiting for it is the worst bout of impatience you’ll experience in your life. There was every temptation every few minutes to go peek around the corner, out her head into Rose’s room to see if she’d tucked in for the night. Doing so would be inviting suspicion, which was the last thing the noirette wanted.
She did her best to occupy herself with sorting her notes, at least getting some small headway as she changed off of directly trying to apply sheets to classes and started sorting them together into single lessons; the ones she remembered at least. Her mind kept wandering back to that special page of notes currently in her bag. She felt bad keeping it from the curvy beauty she shared a home with, but it wasn’t homework, far from it.
It was from her personal studies, found browsing through old bookstores around the campus grounds. The college library was a goldmine for the mainstream, but tucked away in the crevices was where you found the truly interesting occult works from around the world. This one was in the back of a little Asian curio shop, just a few scattered scrolls that made up a strange spell. Her Japanese wasn’t the best, but it roughly translated to “milk magic”, and the old hand-painted images of a lithe little twig of a woman turning into a voluptuous goddess told her all she wanted to know.
This was it. Violet could make herself into something worth a second look; particularly the look of the woman that made her heart flutter just a few thin walls behind her. She’d wasted no time jotting as much as she could, as detailed as she could, into her notes. Now, it was just a matter of waiting to have a few free hours to figure it out.
Each time her school notes were still, she was sharpening her ears. She still couldn’t directly check on the redhead, all she could do was listen for the click of the light, or the end of any motion in the beautiful teacher’s room. The minutes passed into hours, even the commotions outside coming to an end, before the lithe noirette felt confident to start making her move.
Violet collected her notes, slipping them into the corresponding books, and went into her bag for the spell. She could feel her fingers trembling with excitement, her heart racing from the blend of anxiety from sneaking around and the unbridled anticipation she would be getting her wish.
Tiptoeing her way to the kitchen, she did the translation in her head. She’d need a large pot first, easy enough, she was also going to need a smaller container though for some minor ingredients in the later steps. She didn’t want to wake Rose. Every movement needed to be slow and deliberate, so as not to make too much noise. The pot would be under the sink, but for something small… she needed water anyway, a quick rinse of one of the evening’s mugs would do.
The running water had worried electricity running through her, as she filled the vessel of her spell to the half point. Onto the burner it went, and before shutting it off she gave the closest cup a rinse and set it aside.
“Kay,” the occult student whispered under her breath, turning the heat to a low boil and going back to her notes, “first the milk thistle.”
Another slow creeping back to her bag, fishing out as quietly as she could the small shopping list of ingredients as she’d translated them. There was something to be said that ancient scrolls referenced things still being used today, albeit in less direct terms. Often a flower or plant of some sort, later found to be a chemical in its composition. From a scientific approach, you could probably have narrowed these all down to an exact thing needed from their makeup.
Violet wasn’t a scientist though. She was, at best, an amateur witch following instructions.
Back in the kitchen, the goth bit her lip as she crushed the thistle in her hand, feeling its thorns dig into her and its warm sap leak through her fingers. “That should be good,” she let the drops fall into the aside mug before dropping the plant into the makeshift stew to boil.
Black cohosh was next on the list, needing just the roots diced and pressed. Each step made her hands shake a little more, the rattling of their cutlery nearly making her jump out of her skin. Rose seemed still asleep, and so she took the small bundles and got to work.
She needed some haste. The pot was starting to properly roil, the crushed thistle breaking up to its crumpled leaves and turning the concoction a pale green. As fast and silent as she could she chopped through the tangled root, getting right to the point the step turned white, and turning the blade on its side to press any liquid out. The juices went into the cup, the dried cuttings into the mix.
Her third ingredient required less care. Fenugreek, already in its dried seed form thanks to a trip to the bulk store. The spell called for a handful, definitely unhelpful, but she followed accordingly. Tearing into the thin plastic bag she poured some out into her palm, waiting to the point she could just wrap her fingers around it to drop it in the pot in a rain of grains.
By now, the mix was a deep brown, starting to grow thick as the water began to boil away and leave just the plants.
Next was a honeycomb. The instructions said to scrape the honey into her side dish, she hoped a little from the bottle in both receptacles would do. Squeezing the little bear-shaped container until it looked like how much would come off, she added a dash to the pot for what would have been left in the hexagonal chambers and tossed the waxy construction in.
It finished up with a pinch of salt, sprinkled in a ring about the top of the muck she was working with. It didn’t change much, still looking like a thick slop at best. The wooden spoon she’d grabbed to stir was hardly moving through it.
Too late to start over now though. She was at the last steps: drawing the symbols and beginning the chant.
She didn’t want to take the chance with a marker or lipstick, so had gone out of her way to the campus store for a piece of artist’s charcoal. One hand holding her scrawled notes, she drew them around the rim of her pot, the implement crumbling a little more with each stroke of the oriental characters. The metal was radiating heat just in front of her touch, threatening to burn her if she got too close; not helpful when you’re already riding the edge.
Violet singed her finger only once, swallowing her outburst and quickly correcting the character with the dish towel hanging nearby. It all looked good. Now, it was the moment of truth.
Barely above a whisper, she prayed her Japanese was on point. One character at a time, it was honestly just gibberish. The odd word here and there, strung together with connecting syllables. It felt like mixing Latin with the eastern tongue, and her eyes were glued to each letter she’d drawn.
They wanted to go elsewhere though. The concoction she had been working the night away on began to stir, glowing an eerie teal. The symbols lit, dragging a ring of light around the pot. She could feel her heart beating a mile a minute, afraid it might burst out of her chest at any moment.
She picked up the mug, continuing the ritual on her tongue. All that was left was to add the separated ingredients and touch it to her lips. She dipped it in, the sticky saps leaking out into the muddy potion.
The light rose up before her, a trail of sparkling dots on the air. She pulled the messed cup from the stew, ready to drink, only for the sprite to startle her with sudden motion.
It flew around her, then like a lightning bolt out into the living room. Fear swelled to a crescendo inside her, and at once she dropped the mug to chase after it. The magical light fled up the hall, guided by some unseen force into Rose’s room, filling it with a flash before casting their apartment in darkness once more.
Caution went to the wind. Violet dashed out of the kitchen, full tilt, to Rose’s room. Her voice failed her, her nerves having pushed all the way up into her throat. In a cold sweat she peeked her head into the doorway, terrified of what she might find.
The redhead was laying there, sound asleep, her bare shoulders peeking just above her blanket as her chest rose and fell from her breath. She was… Nothing changed, the same beauty she always was, making the younger girl’s heart flutter and crash from the stress.
The spell, what happened? Was it a dud? The noirette made her way back to the kitchen, what was once a point of mystical wonders now little more than the mother of all messes. The mug was half-sunk in hot muck, but with her senses heightened to this degree, she figured she knew what happened.
That was Rose’s cup, from their tea. The spell said it, to “touch it to your lips”. It must have been literal, and her hasty rinse hadn’t gotten all of her roommate’s lipstick off the rim.
She was raking her own lip, suddenly nervous for an all new reason. Nothing had happened, save a glorified light show; she might even have imagined it. Still, there was an unsettling feeling festering in the pit of her gut.
There was also nothing she could do about it. Any extra information the scrolls might have had were still collecting dust at the back of that curio shop, and she was out of ingredients; even the symbols she drew on the pot had burnt off in the display.
With a disappointed sigh, Violet heaved the goop over to the sink; still not wanting to wake her crush, but she had to get this mess cleaned up before they woke up. The thick melange went down slowly, needing a hard scrubbing that left her feeling exhausted by the end of it.
Physical exhaustion still did nothing to settle her mind though. As she collapsed with a squeaky thud into her sheets, she was still fretting over her stupid mistakes, and praying again. This time, that nothing would befall her precious Rose." A Violet for a Rose by Madam Materia
So satisfying to be on a new project, and got a good chunk of work done already. Enough for an early preview of our main characters!
"Sheets upon sheets were spread out on the living room table, covered with hastily-drawn diagrams and scratch-written notes from Violet’s classes. The worst part of an occult and folklore major: so many of the classes seemed to blend together, talking about the same few popular stories or niche “interesting” topics. Not that Violet didn’t love it to death, but it led to situations like this where you drop one notebook, and suddenly you’re playing a complex game of jigsaw trying to match loose-leaf sheets to their corresponding courses.
“Okay, pagan ritual. That goes in pre-Catholic religions,” she mused, moving it over with her dark-painted fingernails before second guessing herself, “Or, was it in witchcraft and the occult?”
The girl hovered between the two piles, trying, or rather hoping, maybe she could match her unintelligible scratch from one day to another. When that failed, she did what all pre-twenty college students did when faced with endless frustration: she tossed it across the room, let out an exhausted groan, and slumped back into the couch cushions.
Her hands were quick to rise, slipping through her shoulder-length black locks and tousling them like somehow it might shake the thoughts straight in her head. “Come on Violet, it’s not that hard,” she muttered to herself, face still buried in her palms, muffling her words.
Yet, she’d been at it most of the afternoon. The balcony window that opened into her little sublet was casting an orange glow, the odd beam catching in the sun catchers to paint pretty little prism rainbows around the room. Rose, her roommate, would be home soon.
Violet got to her feet, her skinny jeans threatening to pop another few of their pre-distressed stitches. For as tiresome as her own day could be, they were nothing compared to the hell Rose had to endure on the daily. Twenty-eight, her roommate was an early graduate of a teaching program, and now found herself in something of a “short stick” job, teaching the trouble students around Violet’s age; the worst kinds of young adults.
She deserved better. Heck, that woman deserved the best; something the young folklore student felt severely inadequate for. Every morning, when she got up, she’d watch the redheaded educator pull back those gorgeous ginger locks, showing off the adorable freckles that dotted her cheeks, her nose, and drew you into those bright green eyes. Eyes that would never rest on a twig like Violet.
The noirette was hardly one thirty soaking wet. Short, a head shorter than the average at just a little over five feet, and trim from her tight tummy to her, unfortunately, barely-boobs. Wearing a bra was a social obligation to keep her nipples from showing through her tight tops, not any sort of need to support her little bee stings. She wasn’t unattractive, technically, to a certain type of people. The problem was wanting with all her heart to be Rose’s type, and at best, she was currently a roommate and friend.
Still, she could make it up in other ways, trudging herself to their little kitchenette and flicking a pair of burners to max. One for dinner, one for tea. The kettle was easy enough, filled at the sink and a couple teabags tossed right in before setting it on the heat. Dinner on the other hand…
Violet raided the pantry, chewing on her lip with a thoughtful look in her dark blue eyes. Pasta, tuna, they were good on mayo. Did they have any pickles left for a quick tuna salad? Best to hope. If not, she could shift it easy enough into a mac and cheese.
The pot was set to boil, and with that, the girl made her way back to the couch and her unsorted notes; just in time for the front door to begin the telltale rattling of the teacher’s return.
A telltale sign of a cheap student apartment: squeaky door. It swung in, revealing the tired redhead in all her glory. Her beautiful red locks had the lightest bit of frizz, hanging down to her mid-back like a grand sheet. It was a beautiful backdrop to highlight her drop-dead silhouette. Plump breasts adorned her chest, ranging right at that sweet spot she got to shop in the bigger end of the intimates sections, leading down into a small dip in the waist.
She wasn’t as lean as the noirette, the lightest bit of pudge showing beneath the small gaps of her burgundy blouse’s buttons, but it was the perfect little cap for those tight work pants. They were seemingly painted on her motherly hips, a nice pear shape for a perfect, plush ass. How many dreams had Violet had, just fantasising sinking her nails into that juicy booty and burying her face in it? She was having one now, and thank whatever gods there might be she was good at hiding it.
With little more than an exhausted sigh, Rose dropped her purse and bag to the floor, their contents of textbooks and lesson plans pouring out almost as bad as Violet’s own. Her heeled shoes were kicked off to the corner, and she trudged her way through their little living room over to the couch.
She wasn’t elegant, turning and letting herself fall over the arm, her head landing on her roommate's shoulder with a rough huff from the impact.
“Long day?” the blue-eyed goth asked, only able to look down at the taller woman from the awkwardness of her collapse.
“Just a bit,” the redhead answered, eyes closed and rubbing at her temples. “They didn’t want to learn algebra the first time, most of them don’t want to try the second go around. And one of them actually shot a rubber band at my ass while I was writing out an equation,” she pout, arms falling to under her impressive bust. “Still stings.”
There was an urge to laugh, and an ever bigger one to ogle. Violet managed to resist both, shuffling a few of her papers scattered on the table to keep her gaze occupied. “Sounds rough. I’ve got tea going; want me to make you a cup, and you can tell me about it?” she offered.
“Please,” Rose chuckled with a smile. “With the hazelnut creamer if we have any left. Half a sugar.”
“You haven’t even tried it yet, and you want to ruin it with cream?” the noirette chuckled.
“I know it’s one of your teas, Vi,” her roommate countered, “which means it’s probably one of those witchy green ones that tastes like dry street leaves. After a day like today, I want something sweet, nutty.”
Violet just shook her head, keeping her jovial laugh going. “Okay,” she relented, hearing the whistle of the kettle starting up and rising to her feet.
Her support having abandoned her, the redhead flopped backward, ginger locks spilling over the edge of the couch. Her brilliant jades drifted from the ceiling, to the scattered mess laid out over their table. “Drop your bag again, Vi?”
The trim goth let out a sigh. “Unfortunately,” she admitted, getting the step stool from beside the fridge so she could reach the mugs on the top shelf.
It was something to take her mind off things. “Wish I could help you with it, but your classes are all Greek to me,” the curvy cutie swung her legs over and sat up, carefully shifting things around to take something of a curious look at all the occult mumbo jumbo.
“Only some of it’s Greek,” the noirette joked, tucking the mugs under her arm and climbing down. “Actually,” she mused, taking the kettle off the heat and getting started filling the cups, “You might be able to help me find something I’ve got in there somewhere. It’s Japanese, so it should stand out.”
“You say that like I can tell the difference between your chicken scratch,” Rose teased, picking up a pile of papers, “but, I’ll give it a go.”
“Thanks,” Violet could feel the blush entering her cheeks, filling her face, “I, uh, need it for tonight for a ‘project’.”
“If only my students were so eager about their homework,” the teacher sighed, walking her digits through the sheets and giving them a quick peek to look for anything that looked moderately oriental.
In the meantime, the slim girl scoured their fridge, finding the coveted creamer and giving the container a quick shake. Sounded like enough. She poured it into what would be Rose’s cup, watching the pale yellow-green liquid go cloudy and finish as an off-brown.
Next, the sugar, which they kept next to the microwave. It was as simple as fishing out a teaspoon and carefully trying to only fill it with half a heap. Her lithe digits were skilled, scooping out just enough, cupping her palm beneath to catch any falling grains as she swung back to their drink and dipped it in. She knew roommate well enough to stir until everything was consistent; a perfect drink for a perfect woman, then collected both drink to return to her mess.
Just in time too. Rose’s eyes perked up, as she pinched one if the sheets in her care and laid it out for the noirette to see. “This the one you were looking for?” she asked.
The occult student at least recognized her own hasty handwriting, but it took plopping herself back down and laying their cups at the tiny edge still available on their covered table to give it a proper look. “That’s it!” Violet chirped, quick to scoop it up and tuck it out of the way in her book bag.
The redhead raised a skeptical brow. “Vi, didn’t you just say you needed that for homework?”
Pink filled the younger girl’s cheeks. “I said tonight,” she corrected, “P-probably going to be up late studying. Plus, I’ve got dinner on and still need to sort all this out,” she gestured to her mess of notes.
She wasn’t the greatest liar, but if Rose knew, or even believed, what it was and her plans for it…
“Well, just don’t stay up too late,” she warned like a concerned parent, picking up her still piping tea and taking a sip that left a small stain from her dotting of lipstick on the rim. “Just as I thought, tastes like a fall harvest now with the hazelnut, as opposed to a raked yard.”
The teasing struck right to the quick, making the pale blush the goth was sporting deepen to a red to rival her roommate’s hair. “It’s not that bad,” she huffed, picking up her own and taking a taste of her untainted, earthy drink.
It was hot on the tongue, leaving her gasping to cool her mouth for a moment. “Anyway, thanks for finding those notes for me, Rose. You were going to vent about your rotten class though over tea?”
“They’re not ‘rotten’,” the teacher did her best to defend them, but the exaggeration in her tone was more than telling. “I really think they just need the right motivation to take their education seriously, and currently that doesn’t appear to be coming from me,” she paused and rubbed her bottom, “Unless they think it’s hidden in my butt like a pinata.”" - A Violet for a Rose by Madam Materia
It's been a long road to get here. A rough year with many ups and downs, stumbling blocks along the way. I want to thank you all for sticking with me this long to get this out. The commissions on the plate shouldn't take nearly as long, so a decent schedule should be back soon. For now though, enjoy The Matter of Heirs!
"Queen Lidia Severina, sovereign of her nation, has found herself without husband or heir. Quite by choice, for the secret her heart will open only for a woman has been held close to her chest. Perhaps this mysterious Menagerie holds the key to give her that which she craves, and needs for her people: the love of a woman, and an heir to succeed her."
Life is life. Has been interesting. Things are starting to mellow out though between new meds and that. I was also again given some well-needed time by one of our high-dollar Patrons Error to put into properly working on this project. It gets ever-closer to done, and I intend to put as much effort as possible into finishing it soon, now that my state seems to be mellowing out.
"In only a short time, their bath had been filled. The water warm, filling the air with summer steam, and drowning out the scent of dried sex on the two of them. Ermina had been right, there likely would not have been room for the two of them with her more bulky frame. As it stood, their legs were a tangle, brushing each other’s rears as the shallow waves lapped beneath their ribs.
Neither seemed bothered, taking turns dipping beneath the surface as the maids ladled the water over them to wet their hair, and undeniably revelling in the closeness. There was a soft smile on the queen’s lips, as she ran the backs of her fingers over her suitor’s shoulder. An idea hit her, a strange one, considering, but one she felt would both enjoy.
“I believe we have enough hands present,” she told their bather, “You may be dismissed, until we are prepared to dress.”
The girl flushed, pulling her wet arms from the tub. “Are you certain, your majesty?”
Lidia gave a nod, and the girl dried and parted the room to leave them be. “We made quite the mess, I would like to wash off,” Ermina mused, looking to her bath mate.
“If I do not do a sufficient job,” the bronze-skinned royal fished the fatty bar of soap from its resting place, rubbing it betwixt her hands with a grin, “then we may call her back to finish up.”
Her suitor flushed, recoiling to the back of the tub nervously. “It is hardly appropriate for the queen to be giving someone a washing,” she mused, eyes cast aside, and on arm attempted to cross over her chest; only to leave her new bust squishing in either direction.
Queen Severina reached forth, lathered hand gliding down her date’s slender shoulders. “I am a lone ruling queen, seeking a wife to bear my child,” she pointed out, as the olive beauty started to loosen her grip, “I am hardy one to care about what is ‘appropriate’. Else, I would have a husband by now.”
She flashed those chocolate eyes, and it was enough for Ermina to open up. She allowed the sovereign to take her close, rubbing her body, admiring each inch of her as she washed away the dust and stains of the prior day. “Is this something you do with your concubine?” the suitor asked, leaned into her lover’s arms.
“No,” Lidia answered with a giggle, running a soapy hand up from core to the underside of a plump breast. “I simply felt it would be something I might enjoy.”
The heat beneath her fingertips told enough: the stubborn woman was enjoying it as well. Their bodies pressed together, close enough the royal’s breath tickled her neck just before a soft kiss.
“Speaking on the matter,” the queen leaned back, pulling her date with her to get at her soft underbelly, “have you an idea to how you would like to spend our second day of this courtship, Ermina?”
The dark-haired girl mulled it over, fingers running along her bather’s legs, gently squeezing when her more sensitive areas were touched. “I have one, yes,” she admitted, her touch quivering on Lidia’s skin, “Though, I do not believe it is what you intended with your offer, Lidia.”
Hands came up, running the soap through the raven locks draped across their bodies. “If it is what you would like to do, Ermina, then it is exactly what I intended,” she assured.
Ermina’s cheeks tinted pink. “While riding yesterday, I was reminded of something I have always wanted to do, but have never been allowed as a lady of my house.”
“And what would that be?” Queen Severina asked, cupping the water in her hands to pour over her work.
Those fingers curled tighter on her leg, rustling her soft hairs. “I have always been interested in hunting. The stories my father would tell at the table always left me envious I could not take part.”
“I hold no such limitations on what you may and may not do, Ermina,” Lidia told her. “Do you know how to shoot a bow?”
The girl’s lips pursed, head turning away as it had so many times. “I do not,” she admitted, “I have not been allowed.”
The queen’s soft laugh met her ear. “Well then, that would be where to start,” she stated with a pat on the beauty’s olive thigh. “We will go down to the soldier’s range, and let us see if I can teach you enough for an evening hunt together.”" - A Matter of Heirs by Madam Materia
Well, it's tax season, so, I'm setting my goals for the year.
Patreon: 50 Patrons
Twitter: 100 Followers
DeviantArt: 1000 Watchers
Twitch: Affiliate Status
40k: One new army (The Saints)
They're pretty lofty, but that's where I want to be next year.
For each of them, there's going to be content of some kind. In the case of DeviantArt for example, there's a "Thanks" series I do with Devan Tart, exclusive to the platform for each milestone I hit.
So, the major things I'm going to need to do to hit these goals: For painting, not too much. I'm already on track. Patreon, gotta advertise. Tell your friends about me! Share me up on servers that like this kind of thing! DeviantArt I think is on good pace on its own, but 2022 needs to be a better year than 2021 was for story releases. 2021 just felt like every other month stumbled, between the loss of friends, lockdowns, and more. And for that, I'm sorry. I know I lost a good many followers here because work was hard. Twitch is just about viewer retention at the moment. For those who didn't know, I stream at Twitch.tv/Isabelle_Zephyr since I intended my identities to be different. But, enough marathons have all used my Madam Materia moniker that the association is kind of out the window. But, it's a nice time to game and chat. As for a goal, maybe I'll add it to a Patreon tier (possibly replace the Name a Model, since that one seems to constantly fall through with people with the ability to pick a game for me to do a stream on at some point? Then Twitter, I definitely need to use the platform more. I barely tweet, beyond sharing the occasional Patreon post. I should probably link my Twitch to it, and then just comment on stuff more.
But yeah, here's to a better year than last! And that I can hit at least a few of these goals for 2022!
Been a while since I got a commission done of yours truly. And on top of that, those with keen eyes will notice the dimensions and some choice details.
Yes, this art is intended for Magic the Gather card sleeves. I've wanted to give my kind of ever-evolving casual deck a bit of a more personal touch than just basic purple sleeves, so I commed one up with some fusion armor of my favorite styles. I think it suits me quite well, wouldn't you think?
Before anything, I want to thank Mutti for doing this for me. It's a beautiful piece, with a lot of weight to it, and they surpassed my expectations with it.
I've been going over things, holding Luna's memory close, gathering every scrap I can to still hold her. Finding all the old art and getting it all together.
There were... so many things we wanted to do, that she wanted, that just... One of those things was the last time Mutti had a couples sale, she wanted art of us. We never got around to it, so with the opportunity there, it was first on my list. Because she wanted it... she would have loved it.
She also always wanted to be in my work. Heck, she heard about Luna in the Moxie's offshoots and she was so excited, only for me to disappoint her. So, that's another thing I'm working on. I'm making her a character in the Menagerie, so that I can still have a little bit of her with me. And because it would have made her happy. (Luna from MM will now be Tsuki, whenever I get around to starting the OG Matty story.)
I'm going to continue our story, the fake little roleplay life we had, the family, in proper pieces. A part of me feels... hollow, selfish, stupid for doing so. Like I'm taking her, stealing her... But just like in this piece, I don't want to let her go, let what we had go.
I can't deny that I loved her, for all she was, all she wasn't... there were times I would have literally sold my soul just to stop her from being sad. I know she'd have done the same... If she could see me now, she wouldn't stop pestering just to make sure I was okay.
There's always going to be a hole where she was. It hurts me, and I know it hurts others too. I wish I could fill it, keep her going vicariously through me. I don't think I can make a community smile and engage like she could though, so the best I can do is hold her memory close, and try and let everyone else see what she meant to me.
On Tuesday, January 11th, someone very important to me passed away. I only learned last night, and I haven't really stopped feeling that impact. There are so many people asking, making sure I'm okay, and I appreciate it. I tell them I am, because at the end of the day: I'm alive, I'm not going to harm myself or anything, and I don't want them to fret. I want them to take care of themselves, because that's what she would do. When things were darkest, and didn't have any sign of looking up for herself, she'd still be there to give you a comforting shoulder if you needed it.
I will be okay, but I am hurt, and I will be for a while. From the time, I obviously didn't sleep well. I want for there to be something, someone to blame, because loss like this does that to you. You want to find some sort of reason why someone who was the world, a pillar in not just your life, but the lives of so many around you, is just gone. This wasn't anyone's fault though. A burst appendix, and an infection that took the life of someone who deeply touched, and left a positive impact, on everyone she interacted with.
It sucks. It fucking sucks, and that's all there is that can be said. There's no villain of the story, no great obstacle to overcome, no bright side or hallmark brand inspirational shit... just a reminder of how quick and fragile this thing called life really is.
I've been told I did good. That I left a positive impact on her life with how often and highly she spoke about me and... god, it hurts. It hurts that now, she will never know just how much of the same she meant to me. How many messages I left in her inbox, just checking in because I missed her while she was gone that will never be seen, because I was sitting there thinking "She'll be back when she's better, and then we'll get the story and be there for her getting through it." But, we won't. That's not the world, not the outcome, we live in.
I've literally written this exact thing, I know it's not how life works, it's not a fairy tale, but god I wish it could be. That I could just turn back time, and try again, twist reality the way I do words for an outcome where I still have her. I'm just left with the fragments of what we made together. Art, a community, our fictional family, the memories we made together... there was time where I was at my lowest, my loneliness, and I reached out to her because I thought she might be the one to fill the hole in my heart. She was, just not in the way I wanted at that time.
I want it out, to let everyone know what a fantastic person I had in my life. I want to make art, to have her, and the things we made, live on in fiction where I can still have her. There's nothing she ever wanted more than to be in one of my stories, to be a part of what I do. I want to, but there's an aching pain that she will never see it. That it wasn't until she was gone that I could get over myself and my work to tell people how much she meant. Sister Luna has been on my table countless times, always one of the last of the squad I remove, because I loved the woman behind her inspiration. And I never got to express it to her how it was deserved.
The world is lesser, emptier, without her. I'm going to see that icon, that circle, and know the light behind it is gone, as I cling to every last shred of her that exists within me. In memoriam of Luna.
Luna the succubus. Luna the friend. Luna the Sister. Luna the mother. Luna the loved. Luna the lost, but never forgotten.
Last update was August, and I didn't get very far since then. As mentioned in other posts, life has been pretty heavy lately. I've been glad that there's been Mini-Comms to at least keep some work flowing, but especially this December, with how things started, it was pretty rough.
That said, Tahu's mini-comm was requested as work on Heirs, with a preview. The story is still in its heightening climax, but this has been a good week or so of buckling down and getting good work done. It probably won't be finished for a while yet, but it's shaping up how I wanted it, which is more than I can say for some prior projects. Without further ado though, the preview of the beginnings of voted girl Ermina's courtship with the queen:
"The breakfast table was lonesome the following morning. Worse, the queen could not find her appetite, stirring the specially prepared meal with her utensils and a blank stare across her features. This had not gone to plan, was the entire venture a matter of futility? “I cannot do this”, the words were still echoing in her mind, amidst a silence so prevailing one could hear the movements of the kitchen staff from the dining table.
“I heard Lady Nataliya fled the castle?” a voice came from the hall, not her staff, but familiar enough to have Queen Severina turn her head.
It was Ermina, done up what such nobility as them would consider lazy; just a simple dress over her chemise to appear presentable. Speaking fairly, Lidia was not wearing much better. She had sheathed her weapon after sating her needs, and not bothered to sit and be dressed beyond her first layers.
“You heard correctly, Lady Ermina,” the royal returned her gaze to her plate, finding her cup in her fingers and swirling it just to feel the wine move about. “Are you wanting to depart as well?”
The olive-skinned prospection walked forward, pulling out a seat for herself close to the queen. “No,” she answered, laying her hands in her lap, “I have more conviction than that, your majesty.”
“Please,” Lidia sighed, “I am hardly worthy of that title this morning.” Her gaze turned, to meet the woman sitting at the table with her. “Is there something you needed, daughter of house Cesarina?”
The dark-haired girl kept her chin high, even in the face of the queen’s pessimistic tone. “No, I simply heard Nataliya had left,” beneath the table her fingers curled into her half dress, her look drifting away, “and wanted to ensure that you were well.”
After a day analyzing her blonde flight’s shyness, it was odd to recognize it of her west-born suitor. Through their initial meeting Ermina had exuded confidence, even defiance. This was something of a new side of her, and after the events of last night, it was not inspiring to see.
“Your courtship begins tomorrow, Lady Ermina,” Queen Severina informed her flatly, “I will be well enough then.”
She went pack to her morning meal, rolling spiced vegetables over one another with her spoon, to shine from the still juices seeping into the plate. She certainly did not expect an olive hand to come up and stop her with a tight grasp.
The very notion was shocking, taking Lidia aback. No one touched her like this, so forceful with the sovereign. It brought her head back up with a start, with more energy than she’d had for this entire morning.
She was met with Ermina’s well-bred features, the same determination in her eyes as when she’d first met the queen; that mixture of challenge and measure. “I would see you well today, Queen Severina,” she told her, pulling her chair closer that she could reach the plate as she stole the royal’s utensils. “You need to eat, you would be doing me a disservice not to be at your best for our courtship.”
Without permission, she began to slice the well-spiced meal, making a bite that she cradled with her hand, awkwardly, and brought forward to the bronze beauty. “You see to it your concubine eats properly. If I have to, I will ensure you do as well.”
The queen sat in stunned silence. The brazen audacity of it, as this girl sat before her, staring her dead in the eyes with a spoonful of diced vegetable in her face. Yet, in spite of this, it was respectable.
Lidia came forward, her chin touching her suitor’s hand as she took the bait, feeling the spices on her tongue at odds with how cold the meal had gotten. Still, she chewed, and swallowed before opening back up to let the burn off her tongue. “I seem to have waited too long,” she breathed out, “This is not to my liking without a good reason to stomach it.”
Ermina got to her feet, hands flat on the table. “Then I will ask the chef to prepare something else. What would you prefer, your majesty?” she asked.
“You do not-“ the queen began, only to lift her head and see that gaze once more upon her. This was happening, regardless of any protest she had. “Bread, cheese,” she mused, mulling over what her stomach was calling for after two days of catering to her guests, “and some eggs,” a common food, but she was craving the simplicity.
Her olive prospective did not judge her for it. She simply gave a nod that tussled her dark locks, and turned towards the kitchen door to relay the queen’s word." - The Matter of Heirs by Madam Materia
So, this one's been sitting on the backburner, waiting for publishing permissions. Finally got the go ahead, so here it is, two weeks early for y'all Patrons. And also a bit of a filler since there's no ELVII this month, have some D&D elves instead this month!
"Everwynd is a land of many tales, and strange magical oddities, one such cursed artifact owned by the sorceress Farah. An unsuspecting Del has fallen to the buxom, growing, enchantress's charms, and without a hint of reluctance has found herself pulled into bed with her and her lover. The young elf's first time, though she's hardly in the mind to let that stop her from enjoying a night with two lovely ladies and their shared destiny."
So, been practicing batch painting, as opposed to the slower, single-model method I've used for the past two or so years, in prep for the project I want to do next year. Honestly, it's been going fairly well. I've been able to see my improvement working through many of these models I got in the beginning of everything that I just... didn't need afterwards.
Case in point, Canoness Firah. Now beautifully painted (though her brazier appears crooked due to its fragility, one of the reasons I never ran her), she was the loadout I thought would be THE one I was going to use. But, then I finished Warren and ended up using her instead, and now, Bloody Rose doesn't get bonuses for Pistols, so the Inferno Pistol is pretty low on my list of, well, things to use. So she was never a priority.
Fast forward to the assorted Sisters though, and it's the opposite story. I bought them all and built them, then never used them due to how things were in the prior edition. Now, there's a whole ton more incentive to be running larger squads, so it was time to dig into the backlog and get 'em done. They're a beautiful contrast to my improvement, being in the same squads, and there's still so far I could see myself going. I still have more stuff to do yet to be tournament-ready again, but I'm super proud, and thankful of all those who enjoy seeing my progress.
Awe yeah~ So hyped to have this squad done, and ever so closer to completing the newest list for my Sisters since the new stuff came out. I also really love these models with the shields, the Sacresants. All melee, and all beautiful~
So we've got Superior Demetra, with her spear to lead the faithful to battle. She will guide them, and ensure the protection of their charges. In order of pictures after are Sheree, Rebeca, Carmalita, and Malina with their maces, ready to smash the enemies of Elona.
Five more will be added to these squads in the coming months, but there's other projects to finish first, writing to do and all that as we approach the next year of Slow Grow, where I'll be exploring Elona's story more in depth.
So, mini preview of sorts, along with... Either a vote or a bet, we'll see. But, the question: Which girl will/should Queen Severina get with by the end? Which of these lucky three is the lesbian Kasumi told her she'd be able to find?
"Her steward gave a nod, then a clap to signal the doors. “Presenting, the honourable Lady Nataliya, of house Ludmilla.”
The first to walk in. Her skin was pale as milk, her hair woven in braids of spun gold that cascaded over her shoulders. Her eyes were like the waters on the beach, the purest of blue, with the white froth of the waves. Her face was angular, with high cheeks that tinted rose with her smile. Was it forced, nervous? It was difficult to tell on a first meeting.
Her dress was made of bright colours and patterns. Scarlet reds, embroidered with lines and flowers. It was a work of art, nearly as beautiful as its wearer, and there was more to come yet, as she and her escorts stepped into place before the queen.
“The honourable Lady Ermina, of house Cesarina,” she stepped forward in a dress of earthen green, the smell of the sea following her steps.
She had come from the east, most certainly, from over the waters. Strands of black poked out from beneath her headdress, hanging in front of her regal features. She held her chin high, proud, her dark eyes looking into Lidia’s own as if in part to challenge, and to deem if she were worthy; when it was she that was competing for the queen’s hand.
Her legs were quite long, her knees coming to the from of her skirt as she moved, her toes peeking beneath the hem in her sandals, as she moved into position. She would not be outdone, letting her judging gaze took to the blonde girl and making sure to be a half-step in front of her competitor.
“And the honourable Lady Natasha, of house Aleksandra,” the third prospective made her way in, her hands clasped together in her lap as she moved.
Her hair was an oaken brown, falling just above her shoulders in waves. The attire she had worn to meet her future wife was layered, pure, well-washed whites beneath a short black vest pushed ever so slightly apart by her nubile bust. She certainly had energy, with light hops on her toes as she made her way up that had her escorts grumbling in annoyance. Not the best first impression to meet a royal.
And yet, she stopped herself in line with the others, moving her slender hands behind her back that she could stand tall; though still perhaps a head shorter than Nataliya to her right. She said not a word, though dipped her head in reverence to the queen before rising back up with a grin on her young, round features." - The Matter of Heirs by Madam Materia
I think it's preview four, things have been chugging along steadily as the apartment is coming together. Anyway, here we are, another spicy scene as we move into the real body.
"The days were both long and short, the anticipation building with each sunset that the day was drawing nearer for the queen to take a bride. Now, standing in front of her mirror, it had risen to a swollen crescendo.
“Do you need relief your majesty?” Gianna was beside her sovereign, dressed in a fine, if not provocatively low-cut, dress that showed off her inflated assets.
It had been an interesting ride, experimenting with the girl to discover all the magicks of her tool. There had been another “victim” before Lidia figured it out, the queen needing to draw her blade and taking out her overwhelming lust on another of the castle’s maids, but she was able to confirm after another “test” it was the initial unsheathing which infused her with the ability to prepare a partner. Something which had undeniably been fun to discover in the prior week.
“Your majesty,” her consort had greeted her with a deep bow as she arrived at the table for breakfast.
“Gianna,” the transformed queen replied with a wide grin, her chocolate eyes peeking down the girl’s top to the, at the time, quite petite chest. “Are you trying to provoke me?”
Her servant’s face went red at the idea, “I-I would never your majesty!” she stammered out, rising to attention, “I am simply excited for the morning meal.”
“Really?” her predatory master teased, shifting her body in such a way the rigid length of her rod could be seen in her dress, “because it was working.”
The distance between them closed in an instant, the sovereign trapping her plaything between herself and the table. “Perhaps I should have you earn your keep before the chefs finish,” she lifted the girl’s chin with her powerful fingers, “work up a proper appetite.”
Gianna’s cheeks were flushed pink, and she opened her mouth wide in acute little display of willingness that left the queen giggling.
“Not there, not this time,” Queen Severina told her, taking her consort by the worst and spinning her to place it flat on the table.
The girl was confused, looking over her shoulder as her ruler knelt. She felt the queen’s fingers around her ankles, taking the hem of her dress and chemise to lift them up and expose her rear to the world.
Bent over the table, there was little she could do. “M-my queen!” she stammered nervously, even as her body was quivering, the velvet lips of her sex glistening as she anticipated what was to come.
“I did tell you, ‘however I see fit’, Gianna,” the bronze-skinned hermaphrodite smirked at her, lifting her own clothing and letting the head of her cock, already dripping clear love, slap against the girl’s thighs to leave little wet dots. “Do you hold issue with giving the ‘virgin queen' your own flower?”
She took a moment to contemplate, her teeth raking over the swell of her lower lip as her legs were visibly quaking. “No, your majesty,” she replied, hands flat on the table, lowering herself that her chest was pressed to the surface with them, “I live to serve you.”
“Good girl,” Lidia purred, taking those nubile young hips in her hands and stuffing that pink-lipped sex with her girthy tool.
There was a brief resistance, the curling of young fingers stuttering against the hardwood as the girl tensed. Once the queen bottomed out though, the moan that left her was a pristine note of lewd delight. Thighs slapped against her rear, that flared head stroked her tight insides, and all attempts to speak broke into pleased cries.
Queen Severina felt the difference, a few of them. That animal need had not taken hold. She was in control, level headed, she could stop right now if she so chose, rather than consumed by want to flood the girl’s womb. There was also an obvious difference in how little Gianna’s virgin walls. They wrung her more often, wild and erratic as they adapted to this new sensation like a belligerent drunk. It brought a strange, raw, satisfaction to the queen she couldn’t quite describe.
A grin spread over her lips, as those between her consort’s legs were drooling potent streams down her thighs. She had brought the girl to orgasm already, that delightful sensation of her walls pulsing, flooding her body with ecstatic euphoria the sovereign knew well. Her sword was hardly halfway ready though; the girl needed to tough it out.
Strong arms reached out, the tan queen leaning forward to take her plaything’s elbows and following them to her hands. Another idea, she entwined their fingers, feeling the servant’s wavering grip as she rode the peak of her pleasure, and pulled her closer. Her body made a sharp V, and Lidia used it like handles to thrust forward into the depths on the climaxing cutie.
Gianna’s moan reached an apex, her head tossing back unabashed as the queen filled her, unrelentingly pounding her femininity. They were at it long enough the new server emerged from the kitchen with breakfast to catch the sight, going red in the face and struggling to keep his composure as his eyes flit back and forth from his work and the tongue-out expression on bliss upon the royal consort’s face.
All fun eventually reached an end however. Queen Severina pulled back, hilting herself in her pet as her abs tightened and she sprayed one of her copious loads into her personal cock sleeve. The cry that poured over the petite girl’s lips was so high pitched only the dogs would hear it. Then, as the royal started to go soft within her, she started to go slack; finally given leave to ride out her high.
With her wots about her, the dark-haired predator watched carefully, waiting for the moment of growth she witnessed a couple of hours prior to take place; it never came.
The smell of breakfast soon demanded attention, as the queen pulled out of her servant with a chuckle. “Work up an appetite?” she teased, brushing the folds from her dress as she let it fall and doing the same for her consort to hide the semen-stuffed hole from sight; their little secret until her pet could manage a bath.
“Your majesty?” Gianna pulled her back to the present, where her form had been bloomed from a round with her freshly-drawn blade; when the queen had revealed to her the secret of her transformation.
“I am without it for the moment,” the tanned woman told her earnestly, patting her feminine mound to prove her member was indeed missing.
Her servant visibly shrank somewhat, “Oh,” disinterest entered her features, her off-green gaze trailing off; the same as when she first learned her monarch’s hermaphrodite features were not a permanent fixture." - The Matter of Heirs by Madam Materia
The third, and most apathetic, member of the Menagerie finally has some art to call her own! Her likeness was captured beautifully by Discord user Mutti, and this could end up as her title card~ Just wanted to share this beautiful work~
This might end up the last preview? Starting to bring the story into its main meat, so there may be one more good scene for preview, but otherwise it should be a few more steps upwards and a ride to the end. Hope to get it done after the Patreon-Exclusives for next month (things have been busy coming back to things being open).
"With a small selection of her wardrobe made to fit, Queen Severina finally entered her throne room. Her chin was held high, proud, and her bulked-up arms lay decorated in layered sleeves that flowed with each small motion.
“Your majesty,” her steward gave a low bow of reverence, picking up a pace and a half behind her. Properly dressed, it was more difficult to tell anything was different, but the tailor had been summoned, leaving the seeds there might be something to look for.
“Stephanos,” the queen smiled to him on her way to her throne, “good. I will require you to start the day’s affairs.”
Again, the man dipped, his well-kept dark hair falling in front of his face in a soft wave, “Of course my liege. For what service do you have need of me?” he asked, turning his dark eyes to her and eagerly waiting upon her word.
“I would like you to send out a request for marriage to our neighboring kingdoms,” she explained, rising up the steps towards the seat from which she ruled.
Her steward paused, as if waiting to see if this might be some sort of farce. When her highness did not correct the matter, a wide grin spread across his face. “Of course, my queen,” he bowed once more, “I will have a letter drafted for every eligible bachelor-“
“No,” she stopped him, tearing his gaze back up to her, as she was settling into the royal seat. “A bachelor will not do. The offer of my hand goes out to a maiden.”
Stephanos paused, clearly confused by this twist from the queen. “A-a maiden your majesty?”
The look on his face was well expected, a grin crossing Lidia’s lips. “Yes,” she replied, raising her gloved hands to give a single clap before leaning back into her throne.
At her cue, Gianna stepped into the great hall, a pink tint in her cheeks. Her soft shoes padded with each step she took, up towards the queen, past the steward who continued watching on in confusion. Once before her monarch she paused, looking expectantly up at her with her off-green eyes.
The queen gave the girl her attention, lightly lifting her chin with her fingers, running her thumb over the girl’s bottom lip. “I believe I would like to use your mouth, Gianna,” she mused with a seductive purr.
Her consort gave a nod, and took the hem of her master’s dress in her hands. Still watching, the steward began to flush. “M-my liege,” he stammered as fabric began rising higher and higher, “this is hardly the time-“
He was stunned by her chocolate stare flicking up to him. She was not going to stop, her gaze spoke as much without a word, but the smirk on her face was something new. He knew better than to look away, watching as Gianna hiked their sovereign’s skirt over her knees, and pushed it back to reveal the semi-hard member between her legs.
The steward’s eyes went wide, ready to pop out of his head at the sight. “Y-your majesty-“
She cut him off with a regal hand, looking back down to her little consort; she wanted to watch, to enjoy fo have r a moment. The girl was warm in the cheeks, letting one hand take hold of the royal cock at its base and gently coax it to full mast with a few languid strokes. She wouldn’t linger on that long though, she’d been given a specific order, and would obey. Opening her maw, she scooted in closer, and engulfed the brimmed tip as far as it would go.
It was as good as Lidia imagined, much to the detriment of her plans. Her fingers were curling against the arm of her throne, nails nearly chipping the wood, as Gianna gently bobbed her head. The girl’s lips were stroking her length, her tongue trying to keep out of the way and tickling all she could take in with its rough texture. She needed to maintain her composure though; this was a demonstration of her strength, her intent, not a weakness.
“A maiden, Stephanos,” she managed on shaky words. “Mine is not the womb that will c-carry-“ she stammered as her consort’s teeth caused her to flinch, one hand jumping to entwine itself in the brunette’s locks, pushing her bonnet off her head, “carry my heir. I have been gifted by the gods themselves, and shall be the one to sire my kingdom’s future.”
The steward was still stunned, slack jawed and staring as he watched the profane display unfolding before him.
With her fingers upon her consort’s head, the queen realized the small ways she could encourage the girl. A small twitch of her slender digits, the lightest little pet like that of a dog, and she could feel the pleased hum in her servant’s throat; a vibration that had the sovereign nearly quivering in delight. Those green pools turned upward, looking positively adorable as they sought confirmation that she was doing well; and would earn her dinner.
Queen Severina’s answer was a simple nod, and at once Gianna redoubled her efforts, bobbing up and down upon the woman’s dick. The flared head found perch in the back of her consort’s throat, the muscles squeezing the over-sensitive organ and finally cracking that near perfect composure. With a grunt that shifted into a pleasured moan her rod jumped, startling her servant whose cheeks bulged with the copious ejaculation.
It was bitter, salty, but not bad. It was purely shock that had the brunette disengage and receive the next blast across her face, painting her bangs and landing across an eye and her cheek, a third exploding and coating her top across her modest bust.
“Good girl,” the hermaphrodite monarch cooed, stroking the girl’s hair as she looked up with a grin, hot cum she could not swallow in time dribbling over her lip.
Those chocolate eyes flicked back to Stephanos, still agape and lacking for words. “This shall have adequately displayed my virility,” she fiercely commanded, her gaze locked and stern as the throes of the pleasured high began to fade. “Send out the proposals! I would take a wife before the first leafs fall for winter.”
“Y-yes your majesty,” he somehow found his wits, dipping into a deep bow and scurrying off before he could witness more debauchery." - The Matter of Heirs by Madam Materia
KISS, but yep, the next of the thumbnails is comepleted, this one for the Kasumi-central stories. It's going to be a bit for the next onw (my own finances), but expect this one for The Matter of Heirs in the coming weeks.
Kalyani, Claudia, Narcisa, the last guard squad with the fancy Ardrasite spears. Also known as the bullshit laser spears, as they're pretty damn good.
Not much to say, I'm super happy this project is over the line, and I'll be posting the pic of the full army soon. Might have a baby version on Twitter and then a proper version here when I get access to terrain again to get a good shot.
Jane, Cordelia and Lief, the last "plain Jane" Guard squad, equipped with the standard spears.
Second last unit in the Slow Grow too. Just a few more days and I can take a break (go back to Sisters XP). We'll see the whole army all together soon, and be ready for the last game day in early July.
And thus, the beginning of multi-preview originals has been born. Making up for the loss of Moxies and giving everyone a little more content outside of commissions. So, who wants to see the basics of how the dagger works?
"It was finally time. The royal’s heart was hammering, her grip tightening, letting her feel the growing heat of the small weapon. Whatever secrets this miracle had in store, she was about to find out.
With a click the dagger came free, the gleaming silver of the blade reflecting the shock in her dark-eyes. A sensation was washing over her, quickening her breaths as heat spread to her every extremity of her body.
Starting in her fingers, moving up her arms, she felt strength. Her muscles tightened, swelling within her sleeves, making them groan in protest. With a sudden surge her breasts jumped forward, powerful pecs perking them up as a good pound was added to their soft weight. It was enough to split her dress, with a resound rip that exposed a dark cleavage.
She was overwhelmed, with a power she’d never imagined before; exhilarating, and sexual in ways she’d never experienced. The transformation was not done however, focusing inward to her core. With a grunt she collapsed forward, the magical weapon clattering away as she caught herself, feeling the warmth of her gasps over her lips. Her loins were burning, making her fingers curl, their pads dragging across the surface of her desk as her brittle nails dug lines into the wood.
There was swelling beneath her hood, pushing forward into her chemise and causing a pitch in her skirt. It was difficult to see down past her well-enhanced bust, but with an awkward lean that had whatever was growing below tearing through her clothing, she managed.
The sensation of the frayed threads moving over it left the queen gasping. It was so sensitive, a euphoric sensation such that she couldn’t help but thrust a hand down to make it continue. Inch after inch the thing escaped the hole, her fingers flanking it on either side as she pressed down, right until she hit her pelvis.
Fully revealed, she got her first look at it: A thick, meaty cock between her legs. It was over a hand long, dark and erect from her blood coursing through it. The head was weeping a musky lust, practically dripping down its length and spreading its stench about the room.
“Y-your majesty?” her chamberlain piped up. After having witnessed the event from behind the bed, the queen’s body shielding most of it from view, her voice was wavering with nervousness and worry. “Are you alright?”
Lidia heard her servant’s voice, but the thought to address her woes did not even enter her mind. It was as if she were possessed, the regal woman turning with a sharp snap of her powerful form, her chocolate eyes those of a hunter, transfixed upon her prey. This new body was hungry, starved, for a feast it had yet to experience, and the meal to sate it was in her sights.
She rose so quickly her chair clattered to the floor, revealing the whole of her new self to the attendant in her room. “Q-queen Severina, what have you-?” Isa’s eyes were wide in shock and horror, and she was given no chance to finish.
In a blink the hermaphroditic creature had crossed the room, one strong hand wrapped around her chamberlain’s waist as the other leapt up and palmed one of the woman’s hefty tits. Her breaths were like dragon’s fire, pouring over her lip and washing over her prey’s face as a herald of her coming kiss. The servant did not resist, submitting to her sovereign’s desire and falling back onto the freshly-made sheets.
Every little movement had Lidia’s overburdened dress straining, crying out as threads were shredded in a cacophony of faint snaps. Even in this lust-fueled state, she recognized it as in the way. So, once Isa was lain upon the bed to her primal satisfaction, her hands returned to herself, strong fingers curling into the frayed holes and helping them along, tearing them away from her body in long strips.
Swaths of smooth, sun-kissed olive skin were revealed, muscle rippling just beneath the surface. A toned look, with hardened abs and thick-corded biceps, hidden beneath the thinnest layer of softness. A statuesque perfection captured only before in art, now in the flesh.
Thoroughly destroyed, the scraps of cloth were cast away, to litter the floor around their coming carnality. Revealed, her hybrid sex was ready, the petals of her flowering womanhood open and dripping, as the turgid tool of a man stood ready beneath its cowl. Though unnatural, there was an alluring aspect to it, Isa’s legs already up and waiting for her highness to have her way.
An invitation the queen was all too eager to accept. Her right hand took hold of her chamberlain’s ankle, her fingertips caressing over the calluses of a working life, combing through the sparse hairs of her legs as she hiked the maid’s dress up to give herself access. Many a time had she dreamed of such a moment, to have a bare woman in her bed, and she was not about to let the first time fall short of those expectations.
Half-lidded, her chocolate eyes lingered on the feminine folds before her, her thumb running slowly along the giving lips of her sex from base up to their apex, and the hard nub hidden within. A shudder of pleasure ran through her servant, stirring in her core to come from her lips as a sharp gasp.
“My queen,” she questioned, the reddish green of those hazel pools looking to her in confusion.
Queen Severina lifted her head, gazing back and wondering what the problem could possibly be? This was sex, the pursuit of ultimate pleasure with another human. Did Isa not enjoy it, when her eyes, her body, were so clearly calling out to her?
Speaking back to her mistress, her sovereign, was unheard of, but the mighty creature was giving her the opportunity. “Your majesty, u-use me to sate yourself!” she requested, “There is no need for sin.”
Sin? Having her enjoy it, ensuring she was ready, what was sin in that? All attempt to speak through her turgid arousal only came out as a hungry growl, her face coming down to lay kisses upon her chamberlain’s chin, and what little of her neck she could unbury with only her face. The maiden spoke truth, this tool of hers was screaming for satisfaction; hovering close to the simmering lips below, close enough to feel their warmth on its flared tip, and begging to plunge in.
Was this what men felt? A singular focus, dominating her will, to seek that satisfaction. It was as intoxicating as it was blinding, bordering on madness. Well, if it was what her servant wished to make this experience pleasant for her, then who was she to deny?
Without further ceremony, the sovereign took the dive. Hers and Isa’s voices cried in unison, the woman’s walls stretched and clinging tightly to the girthy intrusion on her womanhood. A few inches, and resistance, forcing Lidia to pull back with a hiss, teeth clenched at the white flashes if pleasure coursing through her, before thrusting back in. One of her powerful hands found her bedmate’s, pinning it to the sheets. She felt as the chamberlain’s fingers slipped in between her own, gripping her so tightly her nails dug into her skin. It was a raw expression, one of absolute ecstasy.
Again, the tan-skinned huntress came in, lips pressing against the woman beneath her in an impassioned kiss as she hilted her sword within her. Both gasped as their hips collided, the full length of the queen’s potent tool now buried within those velvety folds. She learned quickly the shaft meant little. Her pleasure came from the flared tip, its rim rubbing and stroking Isa’s own sensitive spots, that small collection of bumps that Queen Severina knew from her own exploration.
Her range tightened, focusing each pull and push to have the lip of her cockhead rake across that spot and maximize both their pleasure. The chamberlain cried out in ecstasy, one arm wrapping around and clinging to her sovereign. Never had she experienced such a thing, had sex given her such shocks of delight. “M-my queen-“ she tried to stammer some objection to this sin, but it broke in her throat as she thrashed with a powerful climax.
The rhythmic squeeze of those walls, wringing the invader of her sacred space to beckon from it seed to fill her womb. Lidia felt every pulse of it, and with a grunt she complied with its wishes. The pit of her gut tightened, and with a guttural cry she tossed her head back and unleashed a load inside of her first.
The pair began to slow, hot semen leaking out to drip over the servant’s plush thighs from the sheer volume of her flood. There was even a small bump in the woman’s belly from just how much the royal had stuffed her.
It invoked a sense of pride, as well as an elation that such a virile toy would easily bring her an heir. The hermaphrodite queen did not have much time to revel in it however, as quickly the exhaustion of the day was piling on; along with that of having experienced her first make orgasm. One arm draped over her bedmate, she quickly drifted off into a heavy slumber." - The Matter of Heirs by Madam Materia
Hey there all of my wonderful supporters! Sorry for the lack of basic updates, but I've been busy trying to get the monthly comms done, while also starting up a new endeavor for commissions and pieces in general. That being, I've been interviewing and working with artists to see about adding proper, custom, title thumbnails/covers to my works.
For transparency, the main reason for this decision was traffic on certain sites like DA has been a bit slower on recent pieces. Looking at my DA page, it's a lot of repeating of the same image, just the required pic needed for PDF uploads. It's difficult to tell one story from another, but I also don't want to go back to multi-part Sta.sh uploads (which need their own editing run to fix formatting and spacing issues). So, this is a middle ground with some nice benefits in just beautiful art.
The artists is Isisvart on DA, a wonderful artist who's been great to work with (commission her if you get the chance), and this is the first of three Menagerie covers, the next will be Kasumi's (Zyanya's might be done by another artist, just because she's a furry with a lot of intricate detail and no refs as of yet, you'll all know first obviously). There will also be a commissions cover, which is going to be another Matty piece to obviously differentiate Menagerie stuff from originals.
All in all, other than the cover images being included with final piece uploads (and previews of new covers going up here on the Patreon in their raw form, not to be uploaded on any of my platforms being Isis' to share for their portfolio, though they may get a Discord share just to show off), the only change this is going to add is for commission costs. There's going to be a 20$ "cover fee" just to compensate Isis on adding the title to the comm thumbnail, or alternatively, I'm going to work out having the option for commissions to have custom covers done by Isis worked into my ToS. That's going to take a little time yet, especially in the pricing department.
As usual, love you all, and thank you for the continued support that makes these kinds of things possible! Now, time to get back to working on the mini-comms, and the piece that's actually going to need that Kasumi thumbnail. XP
Luliana, Moyra, and Tamzen. In order of their pics, as usual. The Ventari, a beautiful model that gets totally shafted by current Custodes rules sadly (all the deep strike stuff works off ot teleport, and these lot are jump packs).
Nevertheless, they've got good guns, sweet shields, and as mentioned, a beautiful look. They ere a pain to paint, but they have a splash of colour not present in the rest of the Sanguine Angels with those pretty boots. Sadly, lockdown means I'm going to finish painting without any more chance for games... But it'll be nice going into the next season of games with the army.
Feels like forever since a self-directed Menagerie tale. Not sure how long it'll be, but here we have the standard intro (might try to do more previews with originals due to how commission previews work now).
"It was a fine morning, bright sunlight trickling through the scarlet drapes to coat the wide hall of the castle in a warm glow. Outside the fair chirps of bird songs rang; calls for mates as the winter’s melt made way for spring, the season of nesting. There was beauty to it, between the young blooms and verdant green signaling the return of life, and yet, sitting upon her throne, the queen could find no enjoyment in it.
“Queen Severina, your majesty,” a serf bowed as he came into the ornate throne room.
The woman's deep-brown locks cascaded over her shoulders as she turned to him. “What is it?” she asked, a sift sigh pouring over cinnamon lips; she knew the reason for the interruption already.
“A request from our northern neighbor, for your hand Queen Severina,” the messenger explained.
The apathy in her chocolate eyes, displayed unabashedly on her angular features, was palpable. “I am not interested,” she replied, getting to her feet and stepping down from her place up high.
Rising, the servant awkwardly stood, watching the tall queen pass him, half a head above him. “Forgive me your majesty, if I may,” she paused, an ear turned to him to listen to what he had to say, “You are nearing thirty, and still have no heir to your throne; even a bastard. If you continue to reject every offer of marriage that comes to you, the kingdom will be left without a monarch.”
“I am aware,” was all she replied, her hands clasped at her front as she continued out of the room and into the grand halls.
Passing by the windows, thin rays of sun made the jewels of her silver crown shimmer, contrasting well with her tanned skin. The soft padded sounds of her shoes against the stone were the only company to her thoughts. Of course, she knew the consequences to her actions. She wanted children to call her own, for her nation to maintain its strength, but it wasn’t so simple as that.
From the corner of her eye, something came into view. At once the queen’s pace stopped, the frilled hem of her layered dress sweeping around her ankles from the sudden halt.
A door, here, in her castle? That was not its only oddity, it was unlike any other such portal within her home. The wood shone oddly, her fingers gliding over it like the finest, and the handle was some odd brass ball; how was one to turn it? Experimenting with it, she could feel the mechanism inside turning as she rotated it, the final kick and the lurch of the door inward as the pressure relieved sending a shock through her.
The hinges were well oiled, swinging inward with nary a squeak, and revealing an even more unusual sight. A storefront, within a room of architecture completely foreign to her and her country. Curiously her eyes wandered, her muffled steps carrying her inside without even noticing. The carpentry of the shelves was exquisite, and the exotic wares on display boggled the mind.
Snapping her from her wonder was a horrid sound: a metallic strum that grated against her ears and drew her attention up to the back. There was a woman, laxly laid back in her chair, heavy boots propped up on her counter with some garish instrument laid across her lap. Lithe fingers lay across its strings, and with a flick of her wrist another rough note echoed through the shop and made the refined guest flinch.
“What a horrid sound. I insist you stop, minstrel,” it was the only word she could think to describe the woman, with her outlandish garb that did nothing to protect her modesty. Her white tunic was oversized, lazily hanging over one arm and showing the ridiculous thin straps of a chemise beneath.
“Hello to you too,” the mysterious bard replied, the accent to her words as extrinsic of her people’s own as the rest of this place.
Toying one last time with the knobs on her strange tool she set it aside, swinging her legs down with sloppy movements that somehow came off as graceful and rising to her feet. “Gimme a minute,” she requested, the slang making the queen recoil I revulsion. The bard stretched her arms high, bangles clattering up her wrist as the leather of her fingerless gloves groaned, and turned hazel eyes that seemed to glow with un unnatural power to her guest. “Welcome to Madam Materia’s Magical Menagerie.”
“Magic?” the dark-haired sovereign questioned, knowing better than to trust such things from silver tongued rogues, “So you are a charlatan as well then?”
The minstrel contemplated it for a moment, bobbing her head back and forth and making her raven hair dance; the dyed shocks of red within quite eye-catching and highlighting her pristine face. “Charlatan, no. My boss maybe, but I do strive to do my best while I’m stuck here,” she walked over, holding a friendly hand out for the queen to take. “The name’s Kasumi, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to help you today.”
The monarch looked to the gesture. “Excuse me, but I am a queen, knave, Queen Lidia Severina,” she stated coldly.
“And I’m a goddess,” Kasumi replied laxly.
Queen Severina scoffed, “So you are a blasphemer as well then,” she levied a critical gaze upon the woman.
“No,” the bard replied, her words suddenly heavy as they left her ruby-painted lips, “I’m quite literally a goddess Queen Severina,” she slipped one of her gloves off, raising a tattooed palm in front of the sovereign’s face that had her flinch in shock.
The mark glowed, and the tan woman felt true fear filling her from her core. She couldn’t move, as if this inhuman creature had a pull rooting her in place, forced to watch as blue light poured into her left eye. When finally, that hand fell, she was met with strange new sights; half-visible threads of light entangled the deity, wrapping her arms, her kegs, every part of her, threatening to strangle her or perhaps pull her to the four winds. And looking down, one such string was coming out from her chest.
“What is this?” she wondered aloud, trying to take the line in her long digits only to have them pass through it like it were as it looked: just light.
The goddess, however, handled it freely, picking it up and pulling it taught between them. “There’s a lot of names for it. The one that’s stuck between gods is the threads of fate,” she explained, rolling Lidia’s thread in her fingertips.
Impossible as it seemed, royal woman could feel the tug in her core, from this divine being just holding her destiny within her grasp. “I apologize for my rudeness, Kasumi,” the queen dipped her head in respect, “Your… garb and language, they are not what I would have imagined from a deity in the flesh.”
“Don’t worry about it your majesty,” Kasumi replied with a warm grin, “I could have certainly made it easier on you by wearing something era-appropriate.”
Ignoring the once in a lifetime nature of such a divine visitation, it was strange to have a goddess not speaking down to her. In all the tales she’d heard of such things, the gods put themselves on a pedestal above mortals. And yet, her was one, willfully and deliberately showing her casual respect. “You said you wished to help me, Kasumi?” the queen brought them back.
“Always,” the raven-haired deity replied, curling an arm under her bust. “To pull a play from my boss’s book, people don’t find this place unless there’s something missing from their lives.”
It wasn’t a wonder what Lidia was missing, her hand hovering above her empty womb. “My station expects much of me Kasumi, I need…” no, that wasn’t right, “I want an heir; to do what is best for my kingdom and keep it thriving, but,” she paused, holding her tongue with an ashamed look upon her face.
Queen Lidia Severina, “the virgin queen”. It was a title she had not donned herself, but what her constant rejection of every suitor had placed upon her shoulders. Her parents had died when she was still young, thrusting her into her position as ruler early enough that such a decision as marriage became her own. Many a nation, many a man, had come with offers, but Lidia turned each away, for a simple reason.
“But you’re gay,” Kasumi finished for her.
The dark-eyed sovereign raised her brow, “Pardon?” she questioned, not quite understanding the statement.
“Sorry,” the goddess realized the error in her choice of words, “I mean you prefer to lay with women.”
Deep crimson filled her tan cheeks, and her gaze dropped to the side. “Should I be surprised a goddess would know that?” she asked.
Chuckling the minstrel shook her head, the many threads hanging off her dancing with each jump of her shoulders. “Doesn’t take a god, just someone familiar with such things,” she tapped her nose.
Such a fact did not comfort the virgin queen. “So, what shall you do Kasumi?” she went on, “Fill my womb with magic so I need not take a man?”
The dark-haired deity shrugged. “Maybe, not sure,” she admitted, reaching out and lifting the woman’s glowing thread into her view, “Why don’t you see where fate takes you?”
Queen Severina stayed staring a moment, her heart racing beneath her modest bust. Her fingers still passed through the ethereal string, so all she could do was follow. One step after another, chocolate gaze locked with the thin strand, she walked among the shelves. Anticipation growing with each twist and turn, her heart nearly stopped when the thread of her fate climbed the shelf.
Following it up, she was surprised by what it was. With so many unusual artefacts, she expected some magical implement she wouldn’t recognize, but no. It was an ornate dagger, sheathed snugly in the beautifully sculpted maw of a horned daemon.
Picking it up, fingers curing around the handle, Lidia could not deny the unnatural pull it had. “I am unsure I am comfortable with the connotations of this Kasumi,” she offered grimly.
“Magic’s an unpredictable thing, things aren’t always what they seem,” the goddess explained.
Reasonable. Taking the weapon tightly the woman made a move to draw it, only to find Kasumi’s hand stopping her.
“Not here,” she smiled, “Fun a time as it could be, getting wrapped up with this nonsense,” she gestured to the hundreds of fates entwined around her, “wouldn’t be good for either of us.”
With a nod, the queen held the item close, wondering what mysteries it would hold. She thought to ask, but somehow knew the goddess would give some vague answer, no matter how helpful she was. All she could do was trust she would know when the time came. “Thank you, Kasumi, I will pray to you that this cures my woes.”
That bare hand waved in front of her, the symbol flashing and stealing the unearthly sight back from her eye. “Please, don’t pray to me,” she chuckled, “Keep your prayers for the gods of your world.”
Looking at the lax smile upon the goddess’s lips, one would never fathom the weight of the burdens constantly pulling on her. Outlandish as her dress, she seemed just a normal woman, happy, helpful, and living her life. Something even greater than her divinity to be envious of.
Dipping her head one last time, the queen struggled for a smile of her own as hope filled her. “I will,” she declared, turning and departing from the unusual stop with a spring to her step." - The Matter of Heirs by Madam Materia
