Deep In The Mysterious Woods.

I don't know if my Pantheon is actually the one I work with in this life, or perhaps it's just this life's equivalent. But my connection feels the same way it did back then, in whatever time/universe it had occurred in. The same thing goes for my original God and It's regime.

Everything had to be oh so painfully perfect- everything was created with a Purpose and an Appearance and one Did Not Stray from that. Even if you were different upon creation, and had not the intelligence nor intention to be as such, it was You who had Strayed from your purpose. And so it would be You who would be at fault.

I don't know how nor why I was different. I don't know why having golden eyes was so abhorrent that I had to wear a viel at all times- everyone (including myself) forbidden from gazing upon them. I was handicapped for Its mistake. For having something It couldn't control. I was alienated and shunned and had no true purpose to fulfill, which meant I was left to rot away while my peers and my Creator ignored my very existence.

And then I met someone. I cannot remember their face, nor their name, but I remember their hands- the strange feeling of their callouses, which none of my peers had. I don't remember what it sounded like, specifically, but I remember their voice- their tone belonging to one who'd not seen someone like me so close to their home. Not angry, not scared.. Kind. And... I'd say possibly curious/amused.

I remember falling in love with the forest- with the dirt and the plants and moss under my feet. With food, and beds, and fire. Oh, the fire... How perfectly imperfect it was- something that could burn and turn to ash, but also keep you warm and cook your meat. I'd never seen fire before- not in this way. Everything had its role to play, but it was messy and imperfect and happened in ways that could be harnessed- but never controlled. I fell in love with this world we were forbidden from exploring- in this world we knew nothing about.

I remember the veil barely let me see anything. In my mind, I could see my 'home' and my peers and my Creator- it was inherent knowledge etched into deep my being. So deep, if all of my senses had failed, I wouldn't notice. But only in that place.

I remember, after many visits, finally letting them lift it from my face. I didn't let them take it off- I couldn't bear the thought at the time- but I let them lift it. I remember seeing everything, seeing Them. They were so perfect. So different from my peers and unlike anything I had ever known, it was overwhelming. That moment was The Moment, I believe. The moment I was destined to leave my arrogant God, and join the Pantheon that felt like home.

I wonder who they were, the one who gave me my sight... I wonder if they've died and reborn just as I have- reforming and living under new names across time and space. I wonder if they're here now, a human like I am. I wonder if they remember the angel hiding golden eyes, who became the hearth tender of their Pantheon.

#🐦‍⬛🖤

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Moodboard for us cause yeah.

My partner has affectionately referred to me as her little God, because of a memory I shared with her a while ago, and even if she doesn't Know ™️, it's just.... It's really nice. When she needs me, she uses the image of Me as a deity to pray to; to love; to commune with directly. And it makes me feel so... Content. To have that connection again. To have that knowledge that the Idea of Me is enough to make Someone's life easier, to help them with the little and big things of modern mortal life. And she'd never been religious before, but she says it's easier since she can See and Hear me- a tangible creature.

I don't know... I just missed it. Being a little Deity with my small group of worshippers. A Deity that protects the home and steadys the heart in trying times. A Deity of warmth and care, for those who do not live grandiose lives. I really missed it.

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Pagan angelkin here, responding somewhat to the confession by the Christian angelkin, but also more general thoughts. I understand anon was trying to sort out feelings and genuinely trying to understand, but it really rubbed me the wrong way as a wingless, non-Christian angel.

Honestly, speaking as a former Christian, this is kind of why the community is averse to Christianity. A lot of Christian people, while claiming to support others, also have the underlying holier-than-thou attitude or belief that the people acting or believing non-Christian are "disrespectful" even though they themselves don't actually have as much knowledge about their own religion to make that claim.

Now, speaking as someone who has studied Christian theology and angelology from a historical and cultural anthropological lens, technically you can also say the winged humanoids of modern Christianity "aren't angels". Why? Because angels in the Bible actually don't have wings.

They had no described appearance prior to the creation of humanity, and afterwards, are described to look no different from humans. The portrayal of winged angels came much later in Christianity's history, after adopting Greek motifs such as the wings of the gods Nike or Hermes. "Angel" as a word even came from this, from the Greek "angelos" meaning "messenger".

In line with this, the nine choirs of angels don't have full basis in the Bible; Christian theologians to this day actually still argue whether the wheels from the book of Ezekiel are even considered angels.

My point isn't that certain beings aren't angels of course. It's that even Christians have an ever-changing view towards angels. What is a "real angel" to you isn't a "real angel" to another culture or even to another denomination of Christianity. "Angel" etymologically just means a messenger or servant spirit of a god.

Winged angels, wingless angels, animalistic angels, non-humanoid angels, non-Christian hierarchy angels? All valid.

Because throughout human history, nobody truly knows what angels are. And that's how it's meant to be, that we are incomprehensible and never fully grasped by human minds.

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stimboard for : an angel with eyes, white wings, and shiny stuff

x | x | x x | x | x x | x | x

I was a being of the Hearth and Home- the warmth under blankets and in fresh meals.

If someone were to make an altar for me, I'd accept anything they wished/were able to provide. But I would like obsidian, dried herbs, and white/green/black candles. Offerings of food would be endearing, and anything crafted for me by their own hands would be cherished. Perhaps a deep green altar cloth, if you want to get fancy (/lh). I do so love moss.

For abilities... To help keep the fire fed throughout winter nights; to make sure food is warmed evenly and entirely. To keep the home steady through storms; and make sure the gentle, content comfort was always there.

Meeting the one who gave me my true sight. The callouses on their hands, the kindness in their voice. Dark green and brown eyes, and soft hair between my fingers. Drifting asleep on moss for the first time, and waking up feeling... Free.

In this life, I'm heavily associated with the Moon. I suppose anything that brings a sense of homely comfort would be perfect representation. Warm hearths, soft beds, a favorite blanket or smell- even a childhood story.

godkin/deitykin questions

what are you a god/deity of?

if someone were to make an altar for you, what would you want included in it?

what are your abilities?

if you have source memories, what's one positive one?

what's an image that represents you?

if you want to add more questions, feel to rb with some!

To the animals, the wolves, the lions, the foxes and cats and birds: Your eyes shine so brightly. Your fur is luscious, your feathers luxurious, your teeth furious and beautiful. Your claws are sharper than you think. One day, you will get them back. One day, you will be helpless, human, no more.

To the fairies, the angels, the aliens, the demons, the mermaids and sirens, the divine: Even here you are powerful. Even here you are divine and beautiful. Your wings are gorgeous, your horns and haloes majestic, your tails ethereal. Home will welcome you, welcome us all, with open arms one day.

To my fellow dolls, the marionettes, the puppets, the toys and ball-jointed: We may be delicate, but our subtle power defines us. We bend and move and dance in ways no human ever could. One day, our everlasting regality will return to us.

To the voids, the glitches, the abstract, the eldritch, the robots, the objectheads: Do with this brief moment of flesh what you will. You know who you really are inside, and that’s all that matters. Your soul still bleeds the color of the stars.

To the monsters, the zombies, the cryptids, the vampires, the werewolves and ghosts: The world will always fear that which it does not understand. We understand each other, and through this we have made our own world. We create our reality, and that’s what’s important.

To the therians, the otherkin, the fictionkin, voidpunks, and all other nonhumans: We are strong. We know who and what we are. We know what this flesh conceals. One day, the world will see us for who we are and accept us as her children all the same. For now, we persevere.