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#lace lichen
mycoblogg · 9 months
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FOTD #102 : lace lichen! (ramalina menziesii)
lace lichen (also fishnet lichen) is a fruticose epiphytic lichen in the family ramalinaceae. it is found across north america & plays multiple important ecological roles :-) the indigenous kawaiisu people of california reportedly used it for its magical properties*.
the big question : can i bite it?? nah - it is mostly inedible for humans, but it is an important food source for deer in the coast range of california !!
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r. menziesii description :
"this lichen grows up to a meter long, hanging from bark & twigs in a distinctive net-like or lace-like pattern. it is white to light green."
[images : source, source & source] [fungus description : source]
*so, this was one of the first recorded instances of people using this lichen !! apparently, they would place it in water to bring rain, & place it in fire to repel thunder or lightning :-) the kashaya pomo people of northern california would also use it, but as a "sanitary material" (which i assume means like toilet paper?).
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mynocturnality · 2 years
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Beards of Lace Lichen.
| Artist: rjadams55
🐌 Goblincore month on @mynocturnality
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ecoamerica · 2 months
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The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!
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bluebrightly · 1 year
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FIRST MONTH
On a cold January afternoon at sunset, I’m alone, but not alone – driftwood, rocks, fir trees, clouds, and seaweed, all sit with me. Diving ducks and soaring eagles turn my head, gently lapping waves quiet my mind. Separateness disappears. 1. January 31st, 5:00PM. 2. January 31st, 5:03PM. On another day, Douglas fir trees and I share a wind-buffeted view of Deception Island, floating…
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twstunes · 7 months
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Take My Hand again actually we're gonna go on a walk through Night Raven College campus real quick while I lose my mind
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First off look at the front gate. People have definitely brought up the birds and the keys and those ARE both very important symbols, BUT. What about the thorns sprawled across the top of the gate? And the repeat use of 4-pointed stars in the lettering gives an especially prickly quality, overall.
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Also of note are the decorations on the main pillars and the very specific aesthetic choice for the shape of the wrought-iron fence—by which I mean both reflect designs found in Draconimom's appearance.
The carvings on the gate pillars feature an ankh-like shape that matches up eerily well with the central decor of Draconimom's belt, as well as two curves that mimic the main body of the belt. The three-leaf/bud-like shape above that is reflected in the lace pattern and dangling decoration of the Mirror Chamber's chandelier. The two swooping S-shapes mimic the Draconia family's iconic horns, and the little decorations on either side of the carving match with the shape of Draconimom's pauldrons.
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As for the fence…it's That Shape again. Each post also bears resemblance to the upper portion of Draconimom's staff.
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Considering the focus on thorned vines in relation to Diasomnia/the Draconias, the way that vines are slowly creeping up both the fenceposts and gate pillars feels relevant.
(Please recall: The coffins by which students are summoned into NRC are also referred to as "Gates.")
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Next stop is the botanical garden. As I mentioned in a previous post, the building's overall shape is notably similar to the chandelier found in the Mirror Chamber. The large beams surrounding the building, with their spear-like support pillars, give the impression of the building being held in place by thorned vines.
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The inside of the garden doesn't yield much in the way of analysis, unfortunately. The most stand-out feature is the crumbling structure in the subtropical zone, but that arguably could've been intentionally allowed to decay as a way of cultivating the various mosses and lichens we see growing on it.
(Please recall: at the beginning of the game, before you choose a student, Crowley has a monologue in which he appears to refer to the Dark Mirror as "a lovely and noble flower of evil.")
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And now the Hall of Mirrors. This one has subtler details than the others, but still just enough for the pattern recognition part of my brain to start making noises.
Again, the outside of the hall bears a passing resemblance to the chandelier in the Mirror Chamber, though much less so than the botanical garden. More important to this analysis is the inside of the building.
Listen. Not all lace is related to overblots. But the majority of lace in Twisted Wonderland HAS appeared in relation to overblots. The presence of an unmistakably lace-y pattern on the beams under each ceiling arch feels worth pointing out. After all, as of Book 7, at least one student per dorm linked to the Hall of Mirrors has overblotted.
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There are also small floral decorations on each arch: two buds in the lower corners, and a bloom at the top. Again, Crowley's "flower of evil" comment comes into play; each dorm, again, features a major antagonist who is visually and textually placed parallel to their respective member of the Great Seven (OG Disney villains).
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There's also. Y'know. The horn-like design on the pillars.
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(Please recall: each dorm linked to the Hall of Mirrors is, apparently, contained within a pocket dimension with somewhat strict borders.)
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Okay now we're at the coliseum and I need you to bear with me for this first point. Look at the entrance. It's too ostentatious to not be important somehow, right? It's too overdone. It's the Dark Mirror's mask, kinda? Don't ask how long I've been staring at this thing
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Aside from that, the coliseum has thorns lining the rim of the structure twofold. One set of thorns exists as spears jutting out along the rim, while the other set exists as the long, simple, repeating pattern on the wall just under those spikes. On the outside of the building, this pattern repeats for every floor, effectively giving a sense that the structure is "wrapped" in thorns.
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There are also thorns visible in the support beams of the stage; they're especially noticeable after Malleus fixes the stage, as they're lit up a bright pink (as opposed to the gold they were prior).
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Upon the stage sits an odd, crumbling structure. It's clearly made of a different type of stone than the rest of the coliseum, being a dark gray instead of subdued purple, but that's not all—the architecture doesn't match up, either. The two main columns don't resemble any others found in the coliseum, notably. The arch-and-a-half visible both distinctly feature three-pointed arches, unlike the round arches consistently found throughout the rest of the building.
The fact this structure has been allowed to remain in such a deteriorated state is also worth questioning, especially since it's obviously been modified at some point fairly recently; the LCD screen it's been fitted with seems to work like a normal electronic device w/ no magical component to it. Even if you were to argue that the structure is supposed to have a distinct aesthetic from the rest of the coliseum to better draw attention to the stage it rests on, its condition renders the argument null. I love its decrepit vibe as much as Malleus might, but very few people would see this as an acceptable "centerpiece" for such an important location. With how Crowley squawks about maintaining the school's reputation, why does this pass by without comment from him…?
At least the chains frame the stage nicely. Though, they could serve a symbolic purpose as well…
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(Please recall: according to Rook, the school staff claims that the coliseum is "imbued with a special field that makes it harder for damage to spill out." We can assume that this is the truth, as no one outside of the coliseum seemed to notice Vil's overblot—just the traces of excessive magical energy leftover afterwards.)
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And finally, we come to the Mirror Chamber. Keeping in mind that the Dark Mirror can teleport people (both for enrollment and in general), the most notable visual qualities of this room are as follows:
Gates (coffins, the Dark Mirror)
Plants (chandelier, rose arches, standing lamps, windowpanes)
Mirrors (the Dark Mirror)
Containment (chains, coffins, the Dark Mirror)
It is very, very interesting that the four primary structures on NRC campus with a direct relationship to the items on this list also feature aesthetic similarities to the Mirror Chamber. Also of note is that although each structure chiefly embodies one item on the list, they all incorporate aspects of the other items:
Front Gate–
Plants: As previously noted, there are vines steadily attempting to overtake the fence and pillars + thorns sprawling across the top of the sign.
Mirrors: Structural design is mirrored across the vertical axis, carvings are mirrored across both horizontal and vertical axes.
Containment: Although open in this view, the front gate as a whole embodies the concept of NRC campus as an area that is closed off to the rest of the world.
Botanical Garden–
Gates: The entire building signifies a departure from the surrounding campus into a space especially designed for the housing and growing of plants.
Mirrors: Look at that thing. You can't have a building made mostly out of tempered glass and not have it be reflective as fuck.
Containment: Aside from the appearance of being held down by thorned vines, the building does, again, exist for the purpose of containing plants.
Hall of Mirrors–
Gates: Each mirror acts as gate leading to each of the seven dorms.
Plants: Previously-detailed floral decorations.
Containment: Again, each mirror contains a dorm. This, in turn, means that this building technically contains…nearly the entire student body.
Coliseum–
Gates: It's got one right out front lmao. But yeah, like the botanical garden, the building signifies a departure from the surrounding environment.
Plants: As mentioned earlier, the entire building has the appearance of being wreathed in thorned vines + further incorporation of thorns in the stage.
Mirrors: Previously-shown Dark Mirror comparison. Also, like the front gate, the structural design is mirrored across the vertical axis.
What does this all mean? NO fuckin clue. But if we consider how the very first battle of the game seems to take place in the Mirror Chamber, at least two of these locations have been (or will be) the setting for a major overblot battle.
(I will say…it's very funny that, despite Pomefiore being the first established dorm from a lore perspective, a lot of the campus has much more Diasomnia-esque aesthetics.)
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lunchboxpoems · 1 month
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LOVE POEM, WITH BIRDS
They are your other flame. Your world
begins and ends with the dawn chorus,
a plaint of saw-whet owl, and in between,
the seven different neotropical warblers
you will see on your walk to the mailbox.
It takes a while. I know now not to worry.
Once I resented your wandering eye that 
flew away mid-sentence, chasing any raft
of swallows. I knew, as we sat on the porch 
unwinding the cares of our days, you were 
listening to me through a fine mesh of oriole,
towhee, flycatcher. I said it was like kissing
through a screen door: You’re not all here.
But who could be more present than a man
with the patience of sycamores, showing me
the hummingbird’s nest you’ve spied so high 
in a tree, my mortal eye can barely make out 
the lichen-dabbed knot on an elbow of branch.
You will know the day her nestlings leave it.
The wonder is that such an eye, that lets not
even the smallest sparrow fall from notice,
beholds me also. That I might walk the currents
of our days with red and golden feathers
in my hair, my plain tongue laced with music.
That we, the birds and I, may be text and
illumination in your book of common prayer.
BARBARA KINGSOLVER
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lichenaday · 3 months
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Hi 🙋🏼‍♀️
I just wanted to say I love your blog! ❤️
Lichens are pretty cool so this is a nice way to read up more about them (unfortunately we didn't cover them much in my biology studies in university.)
Don't know if you mentioned this before but: do you have a lichen?/which is the most interesting/prettiest you encountered so far?
Thank you so much! I wish lichens were talked about more often, but you know, only so much that can be covered in most biology classes.
You are asking me a tough question. Every time I meet a new lichen it becomes my new favorite/most beautiful/most interesting. But if I had to choose my personal favorite lichen, it'd be
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Rhizoplaca idahoensis, aka grouse pellet lichen, aka Idaho vagabond lichen
She ain't pretty, but she's incredibly rare and super interesting. She produces no propagules and doesn't attach to any surfaces, so she just gets moved around the high-mountain desert by wind and weather.
The prettiest lichen I've met in person? So hard to say, but recently (aka yesterday) I was absolutely enchanted by this
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Peltigera leucophlebia, aka ruffled freckle pelt lichen
It's that light glaucous blue-gray when dry, and emerald green when wet, with black polka dots (small colonies of cyanobacteria called cephalodia) , contrasting-white ruffled edge, and red-brown apothecia.
The prettiest and probably coolest lichen in the entire world (who I have only met in our lichen specimen collection) has gotta be:
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Pulchrocladia retipora, aka coral lichen, aka lace lichen.
Just . . . What? Why? Incredible. No notes. 10/10.
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ecoamerica · 2 months
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youtube
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The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!
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vothnthorvaldson-blog · 3 months
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Ramalina menziesii (Lace Lichen)
South-eastern Vancouver Island, BC, Canada. March 10, 2024
One of the few lichens I really wanted to see on this trip, because its distribution is strictly restricted to the western coast of North America. I'm not sure when (or if) I'll be here again, so my priority is these Pacific coast lichens.
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ehlnofay · 20 days
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Pax should have said no.
Damn it all, they should have said no. Should have said go to hell and fucked off back – stop contacting me, sort out your own shit – but they didn’t, fuck knows why, and now they’re stuck here.
(They know why. They know exactly why; absolutely anything would be better than fucking off back to Cyrodiil. What’s for them there?)
But there’s nothing worth staying for here either, and now she’s crammed in between strangers on a long table, everyone dressed in fabrics she’s never seen with dyes so saturated they seem almost gory, eating stuff that isn’t food and talking loud enough to make her want to hurl a glass into the wall. It’s bizarre. The woman next to her, ruddy-faced and bald, wears a headpiece that shines like the sun the Isles doesn’t have; the other side is taken up by a stranger in a bone-white porcelain mask who has not moved but to swill the wine around in their glass. There’s scarcely room for Pax’s chair. It all feels like such a baffling pantomime of aristocracy (she's known the real thing well enough – feasts and toasts and luxurious gifts she had no use for, and if she doesn’t stop thinking about it she actually will throw a glass), bright colours and rich settings and a god taking offerings at the head of the table.
At least, Pax thinks, no-one tries to talk to him; they’re too busy fawning over their lord. Which is probably to be expected; but it all feels so strange, so unsettling, the way they all lean in towards it like flowers turning to face the sun, like seaweed dragged at by the inescapable pull of the tides. They grow towards it through the cracks in the air, matter moving toward the inevitable centre, as if they can imagine nothing more than this.
(Even more unsettling is the way it responds in kind, listening attentively to anyone who speaks to it, leaning in as though to kiss them, as though to swallow them whole. All hell, why did Pax agree to this? Why did they come?)
(They should have told it to fuck off. Should have said no way, I don’t want to help you, don’t want to get involved in anything you’d need my help for. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t need anything from you. I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m done.)
(Pax is done. Pax is sick to death of all this shit; doesn’t want to deal with this, the vaguely described problems of a god that picks people apart like it’s unravelling a thick yarn shawl. Doesn’t want to deal with anything like this. He’s had his fill of gods.)
(Why is he still fucking here? Why did he agree to this? This is no better than eating in that weird fucking inn in town. This is no better than –)
(That’s a lie. It’s a bit better than Cyrodiil. Just as much a shithole, but it pulls the rug out from under him often enough that he doesn’t have time to think too much.)
“Not hungry?” says a prowling voice, coiling catlike into the plaits in their hair, and Pax jumps enough to jostle the masked bastard sitting ramrod straight next to him.
He looks up.
At the empty placemat across from him sits a figure veiled in gossamer, glittering in the glow of the lit-up lichen on the distant throne; the fabric of its endless shawls pulls apart at the ends, peeling away from itself, shedding patches like iridescent insect wings every time it shifts. If Pax squints, they can see through it to the grand marbled wall behind.
She glances back at the chair at the head of the table, where something lounges, eyes dripping gold, intricately carved cane laid across its knees; its too-many fingers are laced with the hand of a man whose gown blooms floral. Flatly, she says, “What the fuck?”
“Aren’t you hungry?” Sheogorath asks, pouting; she can hear it laughing down the other end of the table. “It’s a proper feast. We pulled out all the stops.”
Pax shifts their eyes away to peer down at their plate. “You have served me worms,” she says. She flicks the dish with a fingernail. “In jelly. With flowers.”
“Larva, actually,” Sheogorath replies. It’s still at the other end of the table. It doesn’t seem eager to explain this. When it smiles, the gossamer falls away; its whole face splits in half.
It’s all so fucking stupid. Pax takes a deep breath – in through the nose, ignore all the odd spiced smells, and out – and does not yell at it, or try to hit it, because she’s gotten herself into a situation where that’s not really an option, because she’s a fucking idiot. Why didn’t she just say no?
(She knows why.)
The Mad God’s teeth flash bright as the ornate silver cutlery. Its chair scrapes back from the table. “It melts in your mouth,” it tells her, eyes glittering, “but I won’t make you try it. Walk with me?”
The figure still sits at the head of the table, snatching something from someone’s plate, always, always laughing. Its limbs sprawl like tentacles, like the silken threads of a tapestry, to encompass the whole room. The dinner guests stare as though bewitched, bedevilled, beguiled. Not one of them is looking at Pax. If he were to drop dead with his face in the food his corpse would not be discovered until sunrise.
Pax sniffs and shoves his chair back from the table. He lets Sheogorath (the second Sheogorath – but it must be, what else could it be?) lead him through a narrow door into some winding hallway, the walls lined and rimed with ornate coloured-glass windows. (It’s so much quieter. Still as garishly bright, but Pax is getting the sense that that is inescapable, here; the clothes they wear, as crumpled and covered in travelling-grime as ever and startlingly out of place against the odd jagged finery of the dinner party, seem unimaginably dull in comparison. Everything seems unimaginably dull in comparison.) Outside the windows, they can catch glimpses of the city – its winding, lamp-lit streets, the jumbled mess of its architecture, the sky arcing above it like a child’s attempt at watercolours. Pax wants to smash it, tear it down.
There’s no sun here, but still it’s night. The sky has shifted to purple and black.
“Isn’t it nice?” says their companion; when they look back, it’s nothing more than a shifting impression in the stained-glass window, a series of hairline cracks. It still manages, somehow, to smile at them.
It’s not. The sky is a shadow and the flamboyance of the palace is scraping at their spine. “Sure,” Pax says flatly. When she flexes her fingers, the bruising staining the base knuckle of her thumb aches.
Sheogorath looks at her – an ancient man leaning on a stick, a flickering painting, a bloody corpse, a little girl in velvet-red skirts, a breath. In its mercurial shifting she catches the flowery blossom of the man at the table’s collar, an unpleasant glimpse of her own braided hair, the smell of sulphur. It tips its head. She can’t focus on it anywhere but for the eyes.
“You don’t like my dinner parties,” it announces, as though it’s a revelation, a tragedy; its body crumbles like sea cliffs slowly eroded by the ways. It’s annoying – bloody obnoxious, and incomprehensible, and kind of weird that it noticed, that it would even care. (She’s never liked dinner parties. Nobody ever commented on it before.)
I’ve had well enough of them, Pax could say, or no, I don’t like you, but it’s the fucking Mad God, Daedric Prince of – Pax doesn’t even know what, he’s never known much about this shit, only that it’s well worth avoiding. Prince of the mad and the missing and the foolish, of breaking and breaking and putting yourself back together backwards. She should have said no, but she didn’t, and who knows what would happen if she went back on that now?
It's slinking closer. All that stay static enough to make out are eyes and teeth.
“Pax, yes?” it says, soft-voiced – a hand lands on his arm, small and dry and shivering, the skin as thing as a mouldering leaf. “You have no obligations here. If you want to be on your own, be on your own. We’ve plenty of space for it.”
Pax’s eyes narrow. He does not jerk away from it.
In the light of the coloured sky, the coloured windows, its face is phantasmagorical. “If you don’t want to be here,” it continues – still so skin-pricklingly gentle – “then your hand will not be forced. I’ll speed your way home if you wish.”
They can’t help but twitch at that. It’s setting their teeth on edge. (It’s lying – has to be. After its ages of coaxing them in, meting out information, not telling them where they were until they were on its doorstep, it would not give them the chance to leave.) Rough, still covered in road-grime, Pax asks, “Why should I believe you?”
(None of them have ever given them the chance to leave.)
Sheogorath, a figure of hollow skin and bone, inclines its head. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Pax,” it says. Its eyes are wide and bulging, whites on full display like a frightened horse; it grins again. “Others might. But we’re not a monolith. We’re not even especially similar.”
Pax bites down on the flat edge of their tongue. “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”
The light coming in through the windows flickers. The Mad God turns to meet it.
“I’m the youngest,” it says, its voice glittering like mist on the air. “Did you know that? I don’t remember the world without you in it.” Its form spasms, volatile, wings and limbs and eyes like a snail’s on stalks sprouting and choking and subsiding back into its mass. “I’m closer to you than any. I understand, almost.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Pax repeats. She’s gritting her teeth, tonguing at her gums where two are missing. Are two devil-gods not enough to deal with for a lifetime? Is there really going to be more of this now, too?
Rolling through the air like smoke, the voice says, “It will.”
Pax presses purple-green knuckles to her mouth. Her teeth dig into the soft meat of her lip.
Sheogorath turns to face her, hair moving as though blown by the wind, as though tugged by the tides. It sighs. “You don’t believe me,” it says. Its tongue pokes through its teeth. “That’s perfectly fine. Clever, even. But if you want to leave, all you need to do is tell me so.” It pauses, then; the train of its strange, gnarled crown shifts over its shoulders when it moves its head. “Or just leave. The door is still open.”
“You’d be fine with me just leaving,” Pax rasps around his knuckle, “after weeks of not leaving me alone?”
(Of begging him to come, poorly-hidden agitation giving way to blatant franticness, half-swallowing the fear that choked its face in every mirror it spoke to him through. Of begging him still, after he got here, after he met it – begging in a roundabout manner, casual as anything, its every motion reeking of fear. Its abject terror when he turned to leave. You’ve come this far. Why not hear an old man out? Pax told it that it wasn’t an old man, that he didn’t give a shit either way, and it slid through a child, a monster, a sulphur-burned body coughing blood, his own shuddering form in armour he hasn’t seen in months, and it said please.)
(Regained its composure, its gentleman’s face, immediately afterward. But it – the Mad God, unknowable, inconsolable – said please. Pax still doesn’t know what to do with that.)
The Mad God, now, shrugs. Taps at the hairline cracks in the stained glass windows. “I’d prefer you didn’t,” it says, one pair of hands braiding something intricate into its beard. The hand on the glass slips down. “I told you. I do need a champion.”
“And I told you,” Pax bites, something aching and ugly surging in their gut, “not to call me that again.”
A smile, bloody-mouthed and beaming. “But we will abide,” says Sheogorath, and digs its fingers into the cracks of the stone. One brick slides loose, mortar dug up under its nails. It offers it up.
Pax licks their teeth and takes it.
The brick shivers, momentarily – crumbles, in their hand, like sand slithering through their fingers, and left in their palm is a hardy slip of bone. Spiked and sprawling, carved with intricate patterns; it arranges itself around an oval of empty space, the perfect size for four sharp-knuckled fingers.
“You can always leave,” the Mad God tells them, and for a moment it does look so very young and strangely, staggeringly hopeful. “But give it a chance. I think you could love the Isles, if you choose to.”
#for context - in my version of events sheogorath's recruitment of the HoK is a lot more active#it needs someone who can fulfill the metaphysical niche of the hero. it needs someone experienced enough that they might not even die tryin#and it needs someone desperate enough to take the deal#pax is fifteen years old has alienated everything that maybe could have been a support system and is grieving very badly.#perfect mantling material!!#so sheogorath pursued them very specifically and was very judicious about what they revealed when. which is why pax already has some kind o#relationship with it here - they've interacted before - in that for weeks pax's reflection has been constantly begging them to 'visit'#writing the interactions of these guys is a lot of fun because there is always so much sheogorath is keeping from pax. it is#extremely strategic in how it presents itself#and pax falls for it hook line and sinker. though we can't really blame them#it's hard to outsmart something that's in your head#and at this point pax is pretty much made up of their worst impulses#which sheogorath cannot and does not help with#see: this piece#“I would NEVER make you do something you don't want to do <3 if you'd like to go back to your miserable self-destructive hellscape that's#YOUR CHOICE. but wouldn't it be more fun to be regular destructive here... i made you brass knuckles... 🥺“#im obsessed with them#the elder scrolls#tesblr#tes#my writing#fay writes#oc tag#pax#oblivion#shivering isles#the shivering isles
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UPDATE LOG 4.2.3 MASTERLIST
Beyond this is the things they added to the 4.2.3 upd of DoL
Please send me an ask if you want me to add something or I missed one
Images/stories I still need
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SPRITES
PC SPRITE
Bodytypes
Masc., Fem., and Andro.
Chest/breast sprites
Made the breasts have better visibility
Flattest chest size looks flatter on combat sprite
Added breast sprites to lace nightgown, virgin killer, ball gown, evening gown, open shoulder sweater, pink nurse, plastic nurse, skimpy lolita outfits, open shoulder crop top
TATTOOS
Tattoo Parlour
Any unlocked bodywriting can be turned into a tattoo, even if it's not on the PC
Island
New Triangle, Square, and Circle tattoos [look at the Island page for more info]
HAIR
New
All down
Fishtail braid (left, right, twins)
Half-up
Ribbon tail sides
Low tail
Thick ponytail
Reworked
None
FRINGE
New
Short air vents
Side pinned
Dreadlocks bun
Emo/Emo Left/Emo Right
Reworked
Ruffled
CLOTHES
Outfits
Traditional Maid Dress
Victorian Maid Dress
Shrine Maiden Robes
Virgin Killer Dress
Halter Sundress
Leather Dress
Upper
Cat hoodie
Ao dai Top
School cardigan
School blouse
Polo shirt
Color block crop top
Band t-shirt
Boxy t-shirt
Remade Serafuku
Classic Serafuku
Gakuran
Lower
Ao dai trousers
Plaid school skirt
Plaid school trousers
Plaid school shorts
School pinafore
Plaid school pinafore
Wide leg trousers
Straight leg trousers
Yoga pants
Jean miniskirt
Dolphin shorts
Under outfits
Turtleneck Leotard
Under upper
None 😔
Under lower
Tie Side Bikini Bottoms
Highwaisted microkini bottoms
Legs
Sheer Leggings
Stripped kneesocks
Patterned dress socks
Polka dot socks
Sports socks
Rib-knit socks
Rib-knit ankle socks
Feet
Canvas Loafers
ACCESSORIES
Hats
Hairpins (butterfly + star)
Conical hat
Raccoon cap
Fur cap
Bat beanie
Mini pumpkin
Face
Gas Mask
Doggy Muzzle
Eyepatch
Medical Eyepatch
Monocle
Neck
Love Locket
Fur boa
Hands
Work gloves
ICONS ADDED
Locations
Temple garden, moor, farmlands, temp office, altar, secret path, the churchyard, the dilapidated shop, Eden's cabin, brothel stage [pt1]
Garden plots, stream, gloryhole, park fountain, asylum, sea rocks, waterfall, thicket, Great Hawk's nest, and perch [pt 2]
Rainwater pool, Eden's bed, lake campsite, fishing rock, archaeological field office, Remy's Estate, Great Hawk's tower, Ruins,
Animals
Black Dog
Actions
Riding a horse, question mark for inquires, searching for pots in lake, excersizing/hobbling in heels, gliding, entering town, searching for a mark, praying, and renting a stall [pt 1]
Getting in/out/refusing rides, trick or treating, sitting on the school stump, diving, descending/ascending in water, leaving water, and fixing Eden's cabin [pt 2]
Digging, showering, practise shooting, undo bindings, daydreaming, tilling, watching TV, chatting, singing, and plundering [pt 3]
Making tops/bottoms out of seaweed, meditating, relaxing
Events
Trial of purity
Clothes
Patient gown
Items
Milk, breast milk, chicken eggs, truffles, temple pew, dog treat, bronze key, library desk, soap [pt1]
Lichen, cosmetics, small/medium/large/huge exotic/huge decor fish tanks, auto feeder, tank decor, and sewer safe [pt 2]
Antique watch, grass, antique crystal, scrap, stimulants, torch, fertiliser, antique candlestick, rubble, and mud [pt 3]
Spiderwebs [pt 4]
Objects
Salves, sink, computer, rug, broom, dustpan, gift boxes, wolf chew toy, padlock [pt 1]
Cash register, Eden's valentine's day gift, Eden's coatstand, condom vending machine [pt 2]
Tending
Milk
Breast milk
Chicken eggs
Truffles
Ghostshrooms
"Take all"
Shop
Fetish collar icon is updated
LOCATION ART
Pirate ship
Island
Old Church
Sepulchre
Dilapidated Shop
Meadow
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GAME MECHANICS
WORLD MECHANICS
Settings
"Split by Gender Apperance" changed to "Set/Ignore Sexual Orientation
Crime
Split into 10 categories; Assault, Coercion, Destruction of Property, Indecent Exposure, Obstruction of Justice, Prostitution, Resisting Arrest, Thievery, Petty Thievery, and Trespassing.
Crimes the PC has commited would be read out before punishment
Can adjust each crime in the cheat menu
Can view the crime stats in the stat menu
PARASITES
Ear Slime
Added an event that prevents PC to wear under lower garments, unless given directly to them
Sleeping event at Alex's farm
Sleeping event if you study at school naked
Alternate abduction event at the dog pound
At Remy's Farm, it would attempt to force you on all fours and eat grass
May force you to have sex with dolphins
Ear slime tasks are now in the Journal menu
Clit Parasite
Alternative masturbation options if PC has a clit parasite
MASTURBATION
Skip Button
Added a skip button that brings you to the next orgasm
PREGNANCY
Alex the Farmer
Avaliable pregnancy candidate [+more]
Crossdressing Fame
Can lower fame more if seen as a female are pregnant
Paternity Test
Option to do it at the Hospital
SHOPS
Hide Option
Can now choose to hide unavailable items in the shop
FEATS
New
Gilded Spear
Lost World
Face of a Guardian
Wild Monarch
Naturalised
Prehistoric Landscape
SOFT BAD ENDNG
The Island
How to enter, how to escape [+more]
UI
Stats
Sensitivity values can be viewed in the "Extra Stats" tab under "Characteristics"
Options
Confirmation dialouge appears when you try to exit/refresh the page [is on by default in ironman mode]. Can toggle it in the Advanced tab
CHEAT MENU
Clothes
Destroy, repair, dry, and drench clothes at once is added
Visuals
Breast and Cum Values have been replaced with sliders
Pregnancy
More additional options for pregnancy cheats
Teleport
Farmland tp is added
ENCOUNTERS
Double Penetration
Unique cum images is added
Anal
Improved xray sprites
Lower Underwear
Able to pull it to the side during encounters
EVENTS
Hitchiking
"Driving Lesson"
Pillory
Rimming and Watersports outcomes
Whipping and buttplug outcomes
Blackjack
Rimming outcomes
Spa
Rimming outcomes
Car Sex
NPCs will ask if PC needs to be dropped off anywhere after
Chalet
Prostitution opt. added
WARDOBE
Wardrobe Outfit Editor
Added a random color option
Filters
Warmth filter is added
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LOCATIONS
ORPHANAGE
Whitney can upgrade the Loft
SCHOOL
Mason
Repeatable scene where he unlocks the chastity belt Winter put on you
Untying your bonds before swim class generates slightly random dialouge
Changing Rooms
PCs thoughts of being in the wrong changing room are more diverse, changes based on Crossdressing Rep
PC is no longer rejected immediately when looking like the opposite gender and is given weird stares and comments
Crossdressing Fame/Rep
Chance to lower crossdressing fame after not
THE POUND
Dog Happiness
Added a description of the dogs happiness on the main screen
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NPCS/ANIMALS
WOLVES
Wolf Pack
PC is more comfortable naked around the wolves in the wolf pack
Wolf Cave
You can submit to wolves that advance towards you in the cave
BAILEY
Punishment(?)
Will now deliver PC to the tutorial person if PC stays at the orphanage for the first whole week
ZEPHYR THE PIRATE
Named NPC that is found during the Disguised Escape option
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ITEMS
SEX TOYS
Fleshy color option is added to sex toys and strap ons
Fleshy color sidebar renderer is added [no idea what that means]
PLANTS
Flowers/Seeds
Plumeria, tendable [view the Island page for more info]
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EXTRAS/MISC
ABILITIES
Clothes
Can tie cardigan around waist
Able to lower suspenders
41 notes · View notes
mycoblogg · 9 months
Note
lace lichen for fotd?
queued for FOTD 102. :-)
3 notes · View notes
angelgoeslewd · 2 years
Text
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Did someone say...
Omegaverse AU? Omegaverse AU.
⚠️ warnings: 18+ content, minors DNI! Explict sexual content, non-con aspects, male NPCs, use of the word pussy in regards to genitals but can be taken as any gender
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Most orphans are either Betas or Omegas. The "throwaway" kids that the rich fucks in the Danube mansions didn't feel fit to their lives or kids born on the streets to an unlucky Omega that wasn't mated. There's a handful of Alphas, but not enough to protect all of you from the bullying at school.
【L O A D I N G . . .】
【You are a...ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ | ʙᴇᴛᴀ | <ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ> ! 】
Avery: ALPHA.
You aren't the kind to just swoon at every single Alpha that crosses your path, but wow. Just wow. Avery exudes "I'm your ALPHA" energy. Meeting him left you dripping, his smooth fingers digging into your thigh as he grips you and lifts you up like you're nothing to grab the lichen. It makes shocks run up your leg, down your back and straight down between your thighs. You absolutely fingered yourself that night to the thought of his hand pressing against the back of your neck when you kissed. So demanding without even having to say a word. It's a dance that Alphas play with Omegas, lead with a slight of hand and see if they can follow instinctively.
Even his rage makes you nearly go into heat for this man, the pheromones that he gives off making your skin burn and your body react accordingly. One minute he's throwing bottles across the room, making the explode on contact with the wall because you tore your dress at a party after stepping on it with your heel, then you find yourself face down, ass up, his fingers making your slick squelch as he fingers you and whispers, "I'm gonna make you earn my mark." Your mind is mush and all you can say is Alpha, Alpha, Alpha.
Might even attempt to buy you from Bailey. Keyword attempt. Bailey won't sell you. Why would he? You're the most attractive Omega he owns and you bring in so much cash by just living there. Well, if that doesn't work... Avery is conniving and underhanded, at least Bailey lays his cards on the table and tells you exactly how he's going to fuck you over before he does it. Avery waits like a snake in the grass. Goes about it in one of two ways: either distracts you by picking you up from school and taking you out every. Single. day, making you stay out so late that you forget to take your heat suppressants or he steals them out of your bag and replaces them with fake, experimental ones he got from Harper. Experimental in the sense that they might also be laced with the aphrodisiac Moor flowers and make your heat worse. He waits, waits until your heat, plans it all out to take you on a trip away from Bailey's protection and locked doors and room lined with smell suppressant pads, rips you away from the orphanage and makes you suffer through the worse heat of your entire goddamn life for two whole days, locked in the hotel's bedroom, begging and scratching and fingering yourself against the door for relief before he comes in and takes you. Knots you and mates with you for five whole days. The hotel room is probably ruined with the amount of slick and torn bedsheets you two go through, not to mention the noise. He's rented the top floor just for this, but he'll be damned if the lower floors don't hear you. Probably will have to slip the manager some cash to make up for the complaints he's been getting. He calls you out of school too, letting them know that you just have the worst heat sickness in the world, awww.
And when you show back up after disappearing for a whole damn week with a mark on your neck... well, Bailey really doesn't have any choice, does he? So he takes the payoff from Avery with a grumble and let you whisked off to be Avery's little Omega whore. You are not allowed out without a bodyguarded. Your education is private tutorers through an online school. You never take heat suppressants again. And if Avery knocks you up... well, even better. What's a king without an heir? Or two. Or twelve. You are his pocket omega.
FATE: ISOLATED TROPHY.
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Bailey: ALPHA.
This man is basically the town's #1 Alpha. He probably even wins out over Avery on how much of an Alpha he is. As in, people are scared of him. Which, kinda makes him the perfect Alpha. He's very protective over his "property", probably is the strongest man in town, has the brains, looks, and money to provide an Omega with everything they need. He's probably most Omegas' crush. It's why Quinn appointed him as the town's caretaker, which makes him even more lusted after, much to his dismay. An Alpha that takes care of little pups and defends them with everything he's got? A good role model for Alphas, Betas, and Omegas alike? Makes slick run down any Omega's legs. He can protect the kids from anything and make money doing it. He gets secret admirers leaving stuff on the doorstep all the time. Keeps any cash gifts, throws the kids the stuffed toys and chocolates.
His fame in town is why you need to basically be the Omega for him to even consider you. He's seen it all, submissive Omegas, beautiful Omegas, hell, any Omega within a 50m radius would probably spread their legs for him.
But you? The feisty, gorgeous Omega that can have any Alpha drooling with a flick of your wrist? It pisses him off. It pisses him off even more when you have the audacious to tell him that you don't have his money, late Saturday night when he comes up to get it. You are 18, for fuck's sake. He's seen your stupid little report cards. You have an A* in math. Put two and two together. Spread your pretty, soft little legs and fucking go get it!
...But then you spread those stupid, pretty, soft little legs and tell him that you guess you have no choice and you'll have to pay him with your body. The pheromones you're giving off makes him dumb for a second, makes his head woozy and you're just sitting there on your bed with a sly smile on your face. Have you been playing Blackjack with Wren? Where did you learn that look. Your perfume smells like Moor flowers and roses, light and clean and nothing like what he wants to do to you right now.
He doesn't know what to do. He's never been matched this way before.
Then... then he gets angry. How fucking dare you seduce him. How fucking dare you make him feel so out of his element in his own damn home that he fucking took you so graciously in to. He snaps. He grabs your wrist and drags you down to his office in that stupidly thin nightgown you're wearing, thankful none of the other orphans are awake but knowing you wouldn't even care if they saw.
He pushes you onto his desk and grabs your hair, pulling your head back to attack your neck. His hands are everywhere, your hair, your thighs, the curves of your body, your neck. Your delicate, light hands feel like a breeze on his back, lightly gripping and scratching and everything he fucking wants right now. He pulls away to look at you and, my god, you look debauched. Your hair is somehow perfectly messed up, lips spread to pant, he doesn't know if he wants to kiss you to see how puffy and red they get or see them around his cock. He doesn't kiss you. You don't try. Another thing about you that is just so frusteratingly perfect for him that he hates.
He pulls up your lingerie, flips you around, and pushes your head down to take you on his desk.
Only to find out you're still a fucking virgin?!
"Was... saving it. For you. There's other ways to use my body," you gasp out, noticing his hesitation. "My body is yours after all... so is my first time ♡!" He hates how fucking horny that gets him.
"God, I fucking hate you," he hisses.
In his defense, he does feel bad about it afterwards. Especially when he lets you up and notices that he fucking claimed you. You don't look upset at all, though. In fact, you look downright pleased. Whore. You adjust one of your straps and wink at him, all messed up makeup and tangled hair, "Pleasure doing business with you."
"Don't fucking use my own line against me," he threatens lowly. Why the fuck aren't you scared of him. Piss poor excuse for an Omega. His piss poor exucee for an Omega now, he guesses. "And where the fuck do you think you're going?"
That finally makes you crack, all your confidence and smart assery finally sliding away as you look confused. "Back to... bed?"
"Fuck no you aren't, get in my room."
You blink, but follow him obediently, for once.
And that's how it goes, you following, him leading. You're always on his arm, his lap, the passenger seat of his car, making all the other Alphas in town drool when he drives around collecting payments. You never kiss or hug or do anything remotely loving. You're more like fuck buddies, really. He wouldn't blink an eye if you left, but he sure as hell wouldn't let anyone mess with you either. If you even let them. You're just as dangerous as he is.
And you still have to pay. You still live in his place, afterall. And you're using a lot more of his shit too. The debt is in the hundred thousands now. You will never be able to pay it off. And Bailey never lets you forget that, every single Sunday.
FATE: UNLOVED AND INDEBTED BUT DESIRED.
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Eden: ALPHA.
Listen, if Bailey wasn't the town's Alpha and if they even remotely knew about Eden, he would probably be. Right after Avery. But Avery buys his work and doesn't like getting his hands dirty. He also doesn't live here, so.
Eden has all the characteristics of a perfect Alpha. It's why you get Stockholm Syndrome so quickly. It is hard for an Omega to not want to stay in the clutches of this man. He makes sure you're safe, defends you, provides food and a house for you to make into a home. But unlike Bailey or Avery, he tries to knock you up right away. He's very in tune with his Alpha instincts and when he finally gets you, he immediately goes wild (HA).
Of course, he can't claim you, at first. Your body rejects him as he tries to force it on you. It doesn't bother him. One way or another, you will be his Omega, whether you have a claim on your neck or not. See, you're the first Omega his body has reacted to. There's been others, but there was just something... not. Right. But when he heard from Bailey about how well you can grow things and how good your cooking was at the Café, something clicked. He knew you were perfect for him.
And he's not going to let you go.
Later, when he wakes to find you upright in bed, clutching the frayed end of your leash against your chest, only for you to hand him it without a shakey hand or hesitation, he knows he made the right choice. He claims you that morning. You look like an angel with your hair splayed around you and your moans are the song you use to entrance him. He keeps you in bed all day, probably gets up getting you pregnant.
And you're his little house Omega. You take care of everything around the cabin as your belly grows. Provides you with anything you want. Another pillow? Sure, your feet must ache after all that work. You want to go into town? Let him grab his gun, it's dangerous out there. He pays Bailey in labor for your debt.
As for you, you can't tell what is love and what is the delusion you created to stay sane. Do you fuck him because you crave his body, his knot, his care? Or do you do it so you end up tied to a leash in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do? Does he actually love you? Or is it some sort of weird playing house until he decides he's bored? You don't know, but you aren't in the worst place right now. You'll take it as it comes.
FATE: A PERFECT OMEGA OR A SURVIVAL STRATEGY?
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Whitney: ALPHA.
It's unconfirmed, but come on. We all know he's a spoiled little rich kid. And being the first Alpha to a wealthy family means that he's probably expected to marry some purebred Omega of title and money. But Whitney gets whatever he wants and what he wants... is you.
His parents wouldn't approve of their son running around with some orphan Omega, but his parents probably don't approve of a lot of shit he does. Whitney doesn't care. All he knows is that he loves the way you look when you look up to him from your place on your knees, loves the feeling of power when you obediently take whatever he does to you. And he loves loves loves the death stares he gets from Kylar when he has you pinned up against a locker, you head thrown back in ecstasy, his thigh in between yours as you rut down against it. He storms off when you finally cum, and Whitney pulls you against his chest, telling you what a good little Omega you are as you quiver with the aftershocks of your orgasm.
It's not sweet. It's degrading. You just can't help yourself. You're just a little Omega, after all. He treats you like you're stupid. And you are, in a way.
You're intoxicated by the scent he gives off, there's just something about it that reduces you to a compliant mess of tears and moans. You wonder if it's because he's considered the Alpha of your school. You wonder if it's because you secretly enjoy the attention of his torment.
Speaking of which, Whitney collars you. He keeps you on a leash too. Only lets you off to go to class and drags you around town with his friends otherwise. He even got a dog tag with his name engraved on it. You are his bitch after all.
You're on heat suppressants? Not anymore. Whitney takes your bag from you and throws them away. Every day. You beg him not to, tell him how Bailet angrily raises your rent everytime he does, because he has to replace them if he doesn't want every single Alpha on the block busting down his door when you do finally go into heat. Whitney just laughs in your face and tells you not to worry about it. Maybe Bailey will kick you out, he thinks. Then he can force you to live with him. Be his little pocket pussy, wake him up with blowjobs and fetch him snacks nude. Unfortunately for him, Bailey does not.
When Whitney eventually wakes up in his bedroom to his phone ringing at an absurd time in the early morning, he's ready to bitch you out when he sees your name on his screen. But your voice is whispy and desperate, begging him to come knot you, keening his name and he forgets how to be a bitch for a second. He then just hangs up and immediately wakes up his driver, forcing him to take Whitney to go and pick you up.
The minute you get in the car, his hand is up your shirt, and then, all of a sudden, you're naked and he's inside of you, fucking you with wild intent in the back of his luxurious, full sized limo. He doesn't care if it's only 10 minutes to his parent's mansion. He makes you cum at least 3 times before you get there. Then, he scoops you up and pulls you out the backseat, bare naked, and takes you to his room.
He films himself pushing inside of you, films you begging for him to fuck you harder, faster, makes sure to get a close up on your face when you cum once, twice; films himself knotting you too, the aftermath of his cum dripping out of you and him fucking it into you again. Then he throws the phone aside and really gets to work.
When you two finally come back to school, Whitney's leash tightens. Both figuratively and physically. You do not go anywhere without him. The teachers give you sympathetic looks while they help you rearrange your schedule so you're with him for every single class. (His parents probably paid them off.)
Though, the best part about this whole thing for Whitney is the absolute murderous look he got from Kylar, when you showed up for school, leashed to Whitney's side, with the claim mark he left on your neck bruised purple and red. He specifically made you unbutton the top two buttons of your shirt to show it off. Kylar and him probably get into an actual physical fight later that day, but he thinks it's all worth it. Because he owns you.
And some day, he'll probably have to marry some stupid Omega for his parents, who turn their nose up at you, to be happy. But he doesn't care. They won't have his claim mark.
FATE: POSSESSED.
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513 notes · View notes
476b · 8 months
Text
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IM FINALLY DONE WITH THIS PROJECT!!!
Made for an expecting coworker, although I'm a few weeks late for the baby lol
Designed or modified existing designs for every block based on the alphabet. I've been working on this since APRIL. I'm going to put the alphabet under a cut:
Aa- Amanita mushroom Bb- Bluebell
Cc- Carnation Dd- Daffodil
Ee- Echinacea Ff- Fall leaves
Gg- Geranium Hh- Hibiscus
Ii- Iris Jj- Jasmine
Kk- Kiwi Ll- Lily of the valley
Mm- Morning glory Nn- Nasturtium
Oo- Orange Pp- Palm tree
Qq- Queen Anne's lace Rr- Rose
Ss- Sunflower Tt- Tree
Uu- Undergrowth (fern) Vv- Violet
Ww- Watermelon Xx- Xanthoria (lichen)
Yy- Yew Zz- Calla lily (Zantedeschia)
1- Earth 2- Strawberries
3- Cactus 4- Pea pod
36 notes · View notes
peakdeer · 1 year
Note
Hourglass wives/duo
(depending on if it's a romantic or platonic relationship)
The potential relationship dynamic between Lauren the Sand Witch who only started magic like yesterday, and Cleo the Time Witch who has been learning magic for potentially lifetimes using her time powers.
Cleo had been a witch for centuries. She’d practiced magic for her whole life, and all of her unlife. She knew her way around magic, even learning the difficult hex magic. She honed her abilities until she truly was powerful, until she truly was the Time Witch. She’d long lost track of how long she’d lived for.
Lauren had been a witch for a day.
Two, actually, by now. She has no idea how to use magic. She runs around without any wand to her name, not even comprehending how to use one. The one spell she does have, she often casts wrong or positions incorrectly. As a highly talented witch who works in hex magic, the idea horrifies Cleo.
As a fellow witch, as Cleo, she feels bad.
Not bad enough to lavish hundreds of gifts upon the Sand Witch, but enough to talk to her, enough to offer her some advice.
Cleo swooped down in front of the Sand Witch’s sand castle. Or, at least, that was what it looked like. It was very cute, she had to admit. She had to give Lauren credit—at least she had a house. Cleo’d been too busy here to build a proper house, and her old one was infested with glow lichen and rotting.
“Hello. You’re the Sand Witch, right? The new one?” Cleo asked, landing next to the witch in question. She wore a cute dress, kind of like the ones maidens wore in the old villages. Cleo had seen some of them in one of the timelines, but she couldn’t quite remember which one. The Sand Witch actually looked quite interesting, her hair half a dirty blond and the other half a purple—wait.
Cleo had to stop herself from laughing. The Sand Witch looked like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Even the laces in the cuts of her sleeves were colored with the same tan and purple.
“Oh, hello! Hello, yes, that’s me. I… I’m new, yeah. I became a witch just… yesterday I think?” The witch startled, turning to look at Cleo.
“Mhm. How’ve you been settling in?” Cleo inquired, glancing around Lauren’s setup. Besides the house, there didn’t seem to be much there except sand and the occasional dry bush.
“Uh… pretty well, I think! I built a second story onto my house and met some of the other witches! I just, uh. Need to get some more spells and things. I started a farm at least!” Lauren explained, waving towards her farm almost offhandedly. The farm was a sad sight, stalks not quite golden but wilting nonetheless, the heads of grain trailing in the dirt. There wasn’t even a spot of water to help the fields, and it looked as if the farm had been made simply by removing the sand and shoveling dirt in. It was a miracle the crops had even sprouted, especially having grown this much.
“That’s lovely. Your house is very cute, love it.” Cleo responded anyway, pointedly looking at the adorable house instead of the lifeless farm.
“Thank you! I appreciate it! I haven’t had many people come to my house yet, just… just you, actually. No one’s seen my house. I’d invite you in, but you don’t want to see the interior. Trust me.” Lauren chattered, looking almost disappointed for a moment before she forced a smile on her face.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad inside. Do you have a waystone?” Cleo changed the subject quickly, hoping for something safer to talk about. She wasn’t a big fan of dealing with emotions. They were quite inconvenient.
“Oh yeah! I picked one of those up! I’ve kind of been using it as a door stopper.” Lauren looked over at her dented door and winced. “But then I moved it. For obvious reasons.”
Cleo couldn’t suppress a laugh at that. “It looks like a bear mauled your door! How hard do you swing that open??” It indeed looked like someone had wrecked her door—it was covered in scratches in addition to the deep gouges it already had.
“Listen! I’ve got a lot of energy! It just happens sometimes! At least I only hit the wall with it once.” Lauren defended herself. She seemed to realize it was a losing battle, though, huffing and looking away.
“The wall? Lauren, you’d have to tear the door off its hinges to do that!” Cleo’s laughter only intensified at that, and she found herself glad she’d decided to stop by. She hadn’t laughed this hard in a long time.
“…Yeah. I’ve had to replace a few doors. For totally different reasons! It had, uh… nothing to do with that.” Lauren protested, trying in vain to preserve what remained of her dignity. Cleo almost felt bad, but Lauren had done this to herself.
“Sure it didn’t,” Cleo teased with a chuckle. Her eyes caught again on Lauren’s small farm, and she winced. It looked so… unhealthy there, growing on the sand-laced dirt without even water to help it grow.
Lauren didn’t seem to notice, blabbering on. Something about a pelican? Cleo wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“Here, let me just…” She pulled out her Farmer’s Staff, stepping towards the farm and focusing her powers. The crops began straightening up and growing a second later, the dry and wilting stalks shooting up and filling with life.
Lauren had stopped talking by the time Cleo looked up, her jaw dropped and surprise evident on her face. She seemed to be speechless for a moment, eyes darting from her crop field to Cleo.
“You’re the Nature Witch?” Lauren guessed. “No, actually, you don’t fit the vibe. Uh… not the Storm Witch, Necromancy or Illusionary maybe? Though the crops weren’t really dead, and they feel real…” Lauren poked the stalks suspiciously, as if suddenly doubting them.
“Oh! You’re the Time Witch?” Lauren’s head shot up in realization, her eyes widening.
“Correct,” Cleo agreed with a grin.
Perhaps the Sand Witch was smarter than she thought.
“Woah! That’s so cool! You control Time?” Lauren gasped, eyes darting around Cleo as if she’d see an example if she just looked hard enough.
“Yeah, I do. It’s fun.” Cleo agreed nonchalantly, watching with glee as Lauren’s face filled with awe.
“That’s awesome. I wish I had that power! All I have is… sand. And sometimes it doesn’t work.” Lauren admitted, looking rather bashful. From what Cleo had heard about her, she couldn’t really offer encouragement.
“I’m sure you’ll get better at it. I can help teach you?” Cleo offered without thinking. She hadn’t come here to babysit a witch—but this was different. This was helping a friend. She could at the very least do that.
“That would be great! Ooh, a new friend! I don’t have many of those,” Lauren burst out excitedly, giving a little twirl. Cleo smiled despite herself, a laugh bubbling in her throat.
Or not.
But maybe she didn’t mind that. Maybe she didn’t mind helping the Sand Witch—helping Lauren out a bit.
50 notes · View notes
enbesbians · 5 months
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hey baby, i didn't realize you hit the 1k milestone until now— tumblr literally does not show posts sometimes. but i wanted to say congrats on 1k !! and i decided to write a love poem becauseeee i can and i need the practice (i love you) expect something reminiscent of old world literature lol
Your words carry something of a murky springscape. Ripening fog, coating lichens and berries with your taste— wise and kindred to me. If I am the leaf, you are the evening dew, satiating me. If you are the birdwatcher, then my skin is a plume bearing bloom, I am the magpie prancing gale. Where you murmur silkenly, I am a doe drinking every lace of hush. Oh, and I do so cherish every vowel spilt in me. Ere, the chamber held in my skull would be devoid of an ode such as this one be it somebody else— but it is you. You inspire visions, inspire desires, giving me a want of you deeper than words hit. Minds being minds, I envision, I craft an illusion on how you may appear, to satiate the blank terrain inside with your dew–dropping paint. A fucking moisture pearl you are— dripping upon me, the pond, and letting ripples wave verses with your drop–dead ravishing poems onto me, the remembrance never flees me. Can't fucking forget, won't fucking consign to oblivion, I will consume and safekeep instead, interlace with my intestines unto my death. This springscape is phantasmagoric, but baby, you are nothing of a blur in it. Let it be not a dream, lay with me in spring, lie in me with murk, awaken in me something unlearnt— love.
i thought this up in like 2 hours minimum without proofreading I even wrote this up in docs, rawdogged it, so i hope it makes enough sense ♡ also my first love poem ever, so, yippee??!! ilysm. me 2 u tbh:
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aestra oh my god… seeing this in my inbox has me speechless. the way you form your words and speak them to me is like no other… i can’t grasp the fact that sometimes you’re real… i had never received something this throughout in my inbox before… reading the works you put out and the kindness you exude even during the times where im overwhelmed and no where to be seen, you still end up telling me the warmest things that end up feeling like a hug.
going through a time im going through right now… where i feel confused and unsure, having something like this i can read again and again, calms me. taking the step to make this blog… meeting so many different people with you being one of them, i feel so fucking grateful. i never would have thought that id be able to befriend and have so much support as i do now. it can get overwhelming at times but overall… it’s something id never take back.
im actually speechless and i reread this six times as im writing this not thinking that id ever receive something like this since it’s not often that i do… i don’t think a ‘thank you’ can be sufficient enough… there has to be more i can give to show you my appreciation for this poem alone as well as how gentle you had been throughout the time we were strangers up until now.
thank you for messaging me first… thank you for helping me through my hardships and telling me things i needed to hear instead of my own pessimistic views on things. i can’t think of much to say… but just know that im happy and this made me completely overjoyed.
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heart-songs · 7 months
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When I say I want to know you, I mean I want to understand the softer side of life. I want to know tender things. Awakening things. The gentle way darkness surrenders to light. The wisps of blue hour birdsong that seep through windows and dreams to retune heartstrings. It seems to me the edges of our bodies are softest in the morning, and I want to understand the science of it all. The biology of spaces. The delicate kind between your eyes and mine. How the chambers of a heart, fractured and frayed, can still hold room for another without breaking. How the fine lines between fingers instinctively expand to welcome others in. I want to learn the art of healing. The indelible marks we absorb through seasons of growth. Teach me symbiosis. Let’s coexist like lichen in the lace-trimmed homes they stitch to the arms of trees. Remind me how the whim of a breeze scatters seeds. How those seeds might lay dormant for two seasons plus one, then put down fresh roots and venture out towards the sun. It’s been so long since the sun kissed my face. Your gaze feels like the sun, and when I say I want you to kiss me I mean I want to know what comes after the rain.
- Cora Finch
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ROUND 2 / SIDE B / POLL 6
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Team Patience & Valerie Wester (@cherry-spot and @toa-arania) vs. Cecily (@twizzta)
Patience & Valerie Wester's info can be read in this post.
Cecily info:
Description: originally was a human from earth millions of years in the past of OfficeBusters, was a mail courier centered around early space travel but got veered off course, throwing her out of its ship and into the ether of space where she froze and preserved for a long long time. rediscovered by space scientists where her bloody gross tediously-living corpse got forcefully embedded into an iron maiden-like machine made out of mirrors in the form of a woman to run a high fashion chic fashion boutique with little to no emotion. she is technically the only original human left in all of known space. shes incredibly distant and dissonant from who she was in life, ultimately a robot. she married a guy named Bruce Galaxy for publicity/celebrity purposes but divorced soon after due to having an intricate yet vile complication with it its a mystery.
Crimes:
-lacing her products with chemicals such as asbestos and having dangerous powdered toxins all around her store -likely killed the previous shop area tenant -tolerant to the mysterious crimson lichen mold that grows in the interior pipes hidden under the shiny reflective walls of the boutique -all around victim and manifestation of soulless corporate greed -sad fucking divorce yuck!!!!!!!
Other notes from the submitter: meee!
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