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viridian-tay-leaf · 9 months

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General messages from spirit:

Pile 1 Pile 2

Pile 3 Pile 4

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Pile 1: 🧡🧡🧡

You guys are hard workers at heart. You've probably been the caretakers, the people pleasers, the adults even as a child in your family. People look to you for advice and are upset when you don't have the answers. You're either learning or have learned that this isn't the most healthy way to go on. You have to set boundaries and work on taking care of you, you can't pour out of an empty cup. So do some self care today, whether it's taking a walk, saying no, respecting your boundaries, dancing, sleeping, or simply doing nothing. Take some time for yourself to acknowledge what you've done and how far you've gotten. Then take some time to realize how powerful you are and that your possibilities are endless. You got it already so don't worry about it, just be.

Channeled songs:

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Pile 2: 💛💛💛

You guys are busy bees, huh? Always on the go go go. But is it fun for you? Do you enjoy what you're doing all the time for you or others. Is it improving your daily life or your health? If not, stop doing it or atleast slow it down. Life isn't going anywhere no matter how old you are, you still have time. Be present for today. (You could've resonated with Pile 1 so go back if you feel the need) Seriously though, when was the last time you had some fun. Some real fun, the type of fun that is careless and childlike. The type of fun you had on the playground in elementary school. Whatever brings you joy in that way do it, and do it in the most carefree way as possible. You deserve love, you deserve happiness, you deserve to have your actions, talents, and feelings reciprocated tenfold. Whether you get it from someone else or yourself. Take yourself on a date today and find out what makes you, you. You'll never know if you don't try? What's the worst that could happen? You fail, someone says no? Oh no whatever will you do, it's not like you've gotten up and done this battle before. You're stronger than you think, act like it bitch (affectionately)!

Channeled song:

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Pile 3: ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Are you okay? Do you need a hug? Come here bitch lemme give you a virtual one. Seriously tho, get one asap. If no one is around hug yourself or a plush, or a pet. You need to comfort yourself today, getting cancer energy, motherly or caretaker vibes. "I can be needy"-Ariana Grande. Take a long hot bath with some music or candles in the background. Cook something you only make for special occasions. You may feel like the world is chaos/ending or the tower is crumbling but it's not as bad as it seems. Death is just a rebirth and right now you are going through it. I'm hearing "pluto transform me"-Melanie Martinez. Y'all are in your transformation era. Big Hermit vibes. Take it slow and take your time. You'll soon rise from the ashes like a Phoenix babe. You got this!

Channeled songs:

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Pile 4: 💙💙💙

You guys are in your bag this season. It's been messy for some people around you, but not you bitch. Y'all are thriving in your energy and you know it. Main character energy. I'm getting Cancer, major Virgo & Leo vibes aswell. I'm hearing that yall don't even need this reading, it's just a confirmation that you're on the right path and you're doing you. Okayyyy go ahead besties be you and be proud and loud about it. Go off loves and do it unapologetically. I'm done here, yall don't need me to hype you up cause you already know you're that bitch. Beware of jealousy, envy, and other negative energies from others around you though. There are people who see you thriving and hate it, misery loves company so you best avoid those energy vampires. Cleansing and protections will help you stay in this energy. I don't even need to tell you to be grateful and honor yourself cause you're already doing it. Okayy, I see you sis!

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inhuman-obey-me · 8 months

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Human Nature

Word Count: 1330 Description: A sudden discussion about how humans blame demons for all their problems comes up one evening in the House of Lamentation. Turns out, demons don't like to be blamed for human nature. Characters, etc: Satan, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, MC -- with a little Asmo/MC at the end can be found on ao3 here

“What is it with you humans?”

You look up from your D.D.D. with a quirked brow, turning to Satan who seems to be wearing an expression of exasperation – at least, from what you can see while his nose is buried between pages of whatever it is he’s reading.

“What are you talking about?”

The demon slowly lowers the novel, now looking rather sheepish. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean that in relation to you, it’s just,” He gestures to the viridian book in his grasp, “I get so tired of reading stories where humans blame demons for all of their problems.”

“Oh, don’t get me started!” Mammon butts in, still laying upside-down on one of the other sofas in the common room as he scrolls mindlessly through Akuzon on his phone, sunglasses nearly falling off his head to the floor. “Forget just humans in stories, they do that shit all the time in real-life, too!”

“Mammon, you probably have caused plenty of problems for humans.” Leviathan doesn’t even look up from his game, his fingers furiously pressing and pushing buttons with a loud click-clack-click that’s slightly maddening.

“And ya haven’t?!” The second-born nearly tosses his phone as he twists to point an accusing finger at the other. “As if ya don’t get all smug about your name bein’ all over the damn place!”

“H-Hey, it’s not my fault people are into sea monsters – oh come on!” The melody for GAME OVER. “B-but even with a good-for-nothing demon like me, humans like to create all kinds of stories and legends.”

Shifting in your seat, you look around the room in amusement. “I mean, the stories had to come from somewhere, right? A sliver of truth in every lie, and all that.”

“Sure, some of the stories have merit. Demons have influenced plenty of people, us included.” Satan shakes his head, placing the book to the side as he straightens up in his seat. “But there are humans who think any and all terrible things done by their own kind are somehow our fault.”

“Right, like I’m not responsible for every greedy human who screws others over.” Mammon shoots the third-born a glare to stop him from interrupting. “But then ya got some humans going on about bein’ influenced by the devil, or demonic possession.”

“Aww, I haven’t done a possession in so long!” Asmodeus enters the room with a rather woeful expression, dropping a shopping bag onto a table before twirling around, a gleeful grin replacing his pout. “Now, what fascinating discussion are we all having here, hm?”

“About how some humans blame demons for everything bad that happens.” You answer, resting a hand in your chin as you look at the Avatar of Lust with curiosity. “What are your feelings on that, Asmo?”

“My feelings?” He places a hand on his chest, fingers splayed over his heart as a shadow of ire falls on his features. “Ugh, I’d say that humans are totally full of themselves!”

“That’s rich coming from you, Asmo.” Satan rolls his eyes, earning an offended gasp from the fifth-born.

“But it’s natural for me, I mean who wouldn’t be if they had a chance to be me?” Asmodeus perches on the armrest of one of the sofas, one leg crossed over the other. “It’s true, though. I mean, I love playing games with some humans and all, but so much of that is in the past!”

“Asmo, you still try to pull things all the time.” Leviathan huffs, ignoring his younger brother’s sharp look. “You probably aren’t helping.”

“Excuse me, I don’t want to hear that from you, Levi. You’re the one who summons Lotan at the drop of a hat!” Asmodeus waves off the other’s protest, turning to look at you – you, who have just been sitting back and enjoying the conversation unfolding. “Us demons like to feed off all the negative energy that humans can produce, but that’s the thing – a lot of it comes from humans themselves!”

Satan hums in agreement, also fixing his gaze on you now. “For example, we all in this room can sense if you’re feeling a really strong urge in our particular sin and even contribute to it, but we’re the Avatars, and we have pacts. Your average demon out there can tempt all they want, but temptation works best on humans that already have a proclivity to the sin or act in question.”

“And a lot of the lil’ guys you see here, those real low-level demons? They’re manifestations of humans’ sins and negative energy. Meanin’ humans technically made ‘em!” Mammon is sitting up now, adjusting the sunglasses on his head as he leans on one knee. “So really, humans are to blame for those annoyin’ pests.”

“I’m not arguing that.” You nod, remembering learning some of this in classes at RAD. “Well, I’m not really arguing anything, but I didn’t realize you all felt so strongly about this.”

“Don’t get us wrong, we’re used to it. I mean, we’re demons, we have a reputation for a reason.” Leviathan shrugs, his focus going back to his console. “It’s more like a pet peeve.”

“Just like how humans think angels are all innocent and good.” Satan’s words get a round of snickers from the room. “If a human really wants to blame everything bad on us, so be it. But then they only have themselves to blame if we lean into it.”

It’s then that you remember hearing a story about Satan – a time where some human parents got angry and accused him of scaring their child, even though all he had done was return the child’s smile with his own. He ended up traumatizing the humans with his own anger, having them crying and begging on the floor for forgiveness, much to his delight.

You wonder, had those humans even believed in demons before then?

What of your own wrath? Your envy? Your greed? All of those feelings existed in you long before you came to the Devildom, and there were plenty of times you acted on them both then and now. Has it gotten worse since you’ve been here? It was hard to tell, though you did know the brothers’ got rather pleased when you did find yourself having a burst of pride, of desire. Who was feeding off of who?

“I guess,” you muse aloud, “we’re all connected a lot more than we realize.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Satan hummed. “We just like to give humans a little push, now and then. Give them a taste of freedom, of what they want. After that, it’s really up to them what they do. If they choose the path that benefits us, well, we can’t complain.”

“Oh, what humans will do to get what they desire!” Asmodeus dramatically leans off of his perch, putting an arm around your shoulder. He gives you a rather mischievous look, lips curled into a smirk as he turns your chin towards him. “So, tell me, hon – can I tempt you into anything tonight?”

“Get your damn claws off them, Asmo!” Before you can answer, Mammon is already up on his feet and growling at the sight. “You really think you can pull that with all of us here?”

“Y-yeah, you can’t even charm them!” Leviathan voices his envy. “PDA Police!! Stop touching them!”

As the room erupts into familiar and frustrating arguments, you can’t help but feel some mischief swell in your chest – so you raise your voice.

“Why, yes, Asmo. You can tempt me to something tonight. Shall we?”

The brothers fall silent, even Asmodeus staring at you for a moment before his lips split into a fanged grin. “We most certainly shall!”

With a laugh, you find yourself running out of the room hand-in-hand with Asmodeus while the other three yell behind you.

“You little devil,” Asmodeus snickers as he pulls you along, throwing a glance your way.

With a grin, you respond:

“I’m only human.”

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satorkive · 4 months

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MY LOVE IS ALL MINE ୨୧ EREN

eren jaeger, your childhood bestfriend for years, tells you that he wanted to join the scouts so he can be free from these choking walls.

you, who are fascinated with the outside world, agree to be with him so both of you can see the free world together.

his viridian eyes glint with happiness. you never fail to stare at his eyes because it’s so beautiful and so expressive.

“really, [name]? you’d do that for me?”

you nod enthusiastically. “of course, eren! you’re my bestfriend!”

he gives you a smile that shines so bright you actually think he swallows the sun and decides to spread his light around him. including you.

“you’d do that for me now, [name]?”

a once vibrating nature-like eyes turn into a dull and melancholy ones as they gaze at you with desperation.

eren, who nearly kneel for you; plead for you, to never leave him behind in this chaos he created. to never leave his side—always and forever—for his entire being is yours and yours alone. for his heart and soul are eternally engraved into your palm—you can do whatever you want with it; he doesn’t care. it is yours to begin with anyway.

you nod once and continue looking at him. “of course, eren. you’re my bestfriend.”

not even death can tear you two apart.

#🫧 — riri’s love letters!#i love ‘ren #aot #attack on titan #aot x reader #eren yeager #eren x reader #eren fluff

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venusandsaturnsrings · 1 year

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★彡 devoted little lamb!

synopsis: to worship was your purpose and it only made sense that this extends to the most beloved of priests.

contains: afab/fem reader, sacrilege, blood sacrifice, power imbalance, reader is a virgin, f.receiving oral, and fingering.

a/n: this is a full 3k words of blasphemy. please enjoy cuz i sure did!! ꒰(͏ˊ•ꈊ•ˋ)꒱

father Alhaitham was something of a miracle worker for you. with any troubles you could trust he’d dispel them with so much as a goblet to your lips and a prayer unspoken. such power, to anyone outside the church, should warrant fear. it should warrant caution and even a call to the matra. even in a world of elements, gods, and visions he was unnatural and worthy of bone trembling terror. you should find your skin prickling with fear upon the favour he bestowed to you yet, so much as a single raised hair was never felt. much like any other that attends his sermons, you revere father Alhaitham; he comes only second to your beloved god. blessed by the archon of wisdom herself, father Alhaithams knowledge knows no bounds. through his eyes you’re sure you could see the innermost workings of anything those viridian hues laid upon. he is positively worth all of the commotion the people, yourself included, give to him.

with slender fingers, he shuts the heavy text he’s surely already memorized. with every sermon you feel as though you see a new and more impressive side of father Alhaitham. no doubt, his mind and body are akin to the most divine of pastries; smooth layers to which only the most delicate and sharpest of knives could split open to admire the inner beauty. only metaphorically, of course, would you dream of splicing him so carefully. his voice reverberates over the room. honey smooth and laced with dominance came all his words; almost practiced, though, you knew he wouldn’t need it. what is practicing worth to a man who already has it all? his light bow and gesture for the acolyte to trail him had your guts in knots. a man as self assured as himself would make a lovely god, you think.

the cool tones, ones that nearly matched his eyes, of many stained glass windows shimmered down his form much like stars opening at his wake. you wouldn’t have been entirely surprised if the sky had opened up to gift him his own ever present galaxy. royal blue, gold, and jade painted over his already handsome features to create something you would have painted had you had the time. his skin and hair nearly glittered with how delicately the light graced him as though he was only porcelain, a vessel handcrafted by Buer for her most perfect messiah. one she’d fill with riches and a soul of the most lovely. his shoes made a soft ‘clack’ with each step he took across the hand tiled floor. you heard rumours that each one had been individually blessed by father Al-haitham but you wouldn’t dare bring such a ridiculous statement to his attention; you only desire to keep his favour. after every sermon you’d wait for the majority of the congregation to dispel before leading yourself to his office, your own personal taste of heaven.

the hallways are linear. to get from point ‘A’ to point ‘B’ was a task even a freshly born puppy could do so the first few times you got lost, father Alhaitham reprimanded you with a firm hand on your shoulder. he wasn’t truly mad but you felt something you’d never felt before when he mumbled about how, ‘you’re such a silly one. a lost little lamb, hm? no matter, you’re here now.’ with a voice that reached your stomach it was no wonder how he’d managed to wrap you around his finger. with gentle knuckles, you knocked against the bright wood door. the man in question opened the door as if he’s been waiting on the other side for your arrival; due to routine, he had been.

“you’re here. come now, today will be a bit… different from our usual sessions. i’m afraid i have concerns about your… state,” such words he’d never spoken to you before. with knitted eyebrows he re-closed the door before giving you a once over, right hand under his chin. the room was already dim due to the window facing away from the sun but with his presence seeming as though it loomed alongside your demise, it felt even darker. he stepped towards his desk which had already been covered in a number of tools you’d seen before; a rosary, a glass of holy water, a golden goblet of dandelion wine, and bread. yet, one was unfamiliar to you; what looked to be a freshly polished silver knife, a cross engraved in the handle. father Alhaitham glanced over his wares before letting out a long sigh and nodding to himself as if receiving his own approval. maybe after this you’d be on the end of this nod rather than a collection of objects. he spoke without turning to look at you, “i sense what can only be described as sin bubbling up within you,” he shook his head with clear upset, “this cannot go unattended. you are one of my, and our gods, most wonderful treasures. please, allow me to purify you.” had you not been so trusting of him you’d have thought your god was an afterthought in his actions but fear flourished faster than you could think. with trembling legs and tears beading in the corners of your eyes, you begged. you begged for him to make you clean once more, for whatever this sin was to no longer afflict you, for father Alhaitham to praise you once more. those with sharp minds would decode your words accurately; you were begging for his love, not your gods. he swivelled and his gaze found you once more, “righteous as always. forgive me, but i require you to remove all your clothing. on our beloved god, i will not look for the sake of your modesty. instead, i will busy myself with the final preparations for our ceremony.”

he rolled up his sleeves to reveal the pearly skin of his forearms. on other occasions perhaps you’d stop to admire the display of skin but you were given a task, to strip. your shaky fingers began removing your clothing and folding it nearly on a small side table located in the corner of the room as he prepared the stone altar against the window with a combination of holy water, myrrh, sweetgrass, and sage. father Alhaitham took his time delicately preparing the surface, hands lovingly applying the mix and massaging it into every crevice with a level of sensuality that had you averting your eyes. with all clothing shed, you modestly covered your most intimate parts while mentally steeling yourself for his eyes to land on you. when he turned, if he had any feelings about the view of your body in its most natural state, his expression did not waver from one of concern. before ridding his hands of all residue, he gestured to the stone alter, “please, lay down.”

cold, damp, and unpleasant were all words you could attribute to the experience of your bare skin atop the surface. your nose wrinkled a slight bit and you tried to find comfort in knowing it would heat up through your body and that this is all for your own good. after this, you’d be clean of sin once more. father Alhaitham returned to your side, rosary in hand. nimble fingers gently guided your shaky ones to hold it the way you had many times before when praying at his side. typically, you found that he had no patience for any nervousness but it today, for you, he made no comment or move to chide you. though you were lying down, soon bread was placed against your palate by his own hand. he gently drew it back to caress your cheek with what could only be described as the most tender of care. with such worry directed to you by father Alhaitham, you could nearly cry; it’s a blessing in its own right. the goblet soon followed, wine pouring into your mouth and the slightest bit down the corner and across your cheek. this time, no hand came to remove it though his eyes followed its path down your neck. he swallowed harshly and paused in his movements momentarily before turning back to take up the knife. if you were nervous before, you were terrified now.

“relax. i promise i would never do anything to you that wasn’t required, especially if it involves pain,” he almost looked as if your pain would be his own and perhaps it was. you didn’t dwell on this thought for it was a selfish one. the pain of any loyal worshipper of the same god would be his own, you are no special exception. “for this portion, i will draw gently upon your form. along each arm and leg, from the bottom of your ribs to your navel, and across each breast. this knife is sharp so it will take no more effort than the weight of the handle. i urge you to refrain from moving.” you sucked in air in tandem with him as the blade first came to your sternum. his words were most certainly truthful, expected of a priest, as he added no extra pressure when gently dragging it lower. the first thing you registered was just how cold the tip of the knife is, the second was the sharp pain. your slight wince didn’t go unnoticed as father Alhaitham mumbled an apology. he raised the knife from your flesh when it came to the end of his mental line. the blades edge took on a dark sheen of your blood that he looked over. his most beautiful eyes inspected the silver before dropping to where the knife had cut; he hummed in satisfaction before bringing it to just below your left hip, the next place he’d cut. father Alhaitham took to softly singing a hymn you were familiar with, seemingly to comfort you as the blade came across all your limbs in the following moments. it rose up to your chest where he gulped. no longer could he ignore just how bare your are under him and just how dollish your eyes were as they fluttered, glazed over in both pain and fear. while his right hand placed the knife appropriately, his left came to cup your cheek. with his thumb soothing across your flesh, you barely noticed how he cleanly cut atop each of your breasts. you were simply too caught up in the delightful feeling of his skin against your as you lay exposed to his lowered gaze. had you not been so assured in the professional nature of this encounter, you would have noticed the increasing thickness in the air that could only be attributed to the intimacy and the arousal you had not noticed pooling between your folds; father Alhaitham did.

he stood up straight and drew away from you to admire the work he had done. your form under the soft light of the window and painted in your own blood, the most lovely of sacrifices. the goblet was in his hand once more as he brought it to collect the blood dripping down your waist and sides, mixing with the remnants of wine previously drank. the metal was wonderfully blunt compared to the blade that had just split your flesh open. with what he gathered, father Alhaitham dipped his thumb in to draw the horizontal and vertical lines to complete a cross on all seven of the cuts he had made; one for each element of Teyvet. he was more than satisfied with his work, if the soft smile gracing his features was anything to go by.

“my dearest little lamb, it pleases me greatly how well you’ve done for me here but,” he seemed to be conflicted by his next words, “would you allow me to indulge myself in you?” the meaning of his words was lost on you but how could you ever decline him? how could you ever decline the one that has given you purpose, light, and salvation should you ever need it? you nodded and half expected him to request your words as he always does but, today only a movement was enough for him. “please, continue holding the rosary as you are.” strong hands pulled you down the stone by your knees until you rested with your lower legs dangling off the edge which elicited a sigh from your most beloved priest; your pliancy always did please him. with hands still on you, he gently parted your legs as he kneeled between them before speaking in a tone lower than you had heard before, “consider this my own kind of worship.”

your face was certainly flushed already but it heated up tenfold as his tongue made its way through your soft folds and you could hear him sigh as your grip on the rosary became tighter. he used the tip to gently poke through and play softly with your virgin entrance, one hand coming up to push the lips of your pussy open much like a flower blooming. your hips jerked slightly as his nose came in contact with a spot you weren’t familiar with but that felt so very good. a whimper left your throat as a moan left his, the vibrations travelling through your cunt and causing a whole new gush of slick to leave your pussy. eagerly, father Alhaitham lapped it up before bringing his lips to your clit. he planted a couple soft kisses to your pretty and glistening nub before wrapping his lips around it and suckling oh so perfectly. he knew you were a virgin but didn’t expect you to come undone on his face with only a slight suck to your cute little clit. a sudden and loud whine left your mouth as your back arched to push your pussy further against his face. the feeling of an orgasm was entirely new to you but you were already addicted to the intense pleasure brought by your priest. he leaned back slightly, panting and in reasonable amounts of shock from such a sudden reaction. with your wetness still on his face, he mumbled to himself, “apologies but i suspect i’ll have to worship for awhile longer.”

you didn’t even have time to come down from your first high before his face was settled into the heat of your core once again. a small sob left your throat upon the contact but you couldn’t help the way your hips bucked up to meet his mouth. father Alhaitham, as always, knew exactly what you wanted and needed. his tongue worked wonders as it gently fucked into your hole, where his cock would rest at a letter date, and his fingers moved to gently flick at your clit. he buried his face impossible closer to you only to inhale the scent your pussy let off, one he could spend the rest of his days smelling like some sort of inhalant drug. his mouth and fingers swapped places so he could lathe over your clit and provide teasing nips to the sensitive bundle. with one gently finger, he circled your hole to gather more wetness before slowly plunging into you. as if an apology for the sting, he kissed at your clit endlessly before twisting his finger to provide the perfect angle he needed. with your utmost comfort in mind, father Alhaitham waited until your sobs subsided before fucking you gently with the single finger. he curled it slightly and made sure to push up against where he knew would have you writhing on the alter as he nipped once more at your clit to keep you grounded in the reality of his face between your legs.

for a man with, what you assumed, no prior experience he sure knew how to fuck you without his dick. all his concentration was solely on how much he was falling in love with your pretty pussy and how much he wanted to die buried between your thighs. gods be damned, you were his new religion and your moans his scripture. he was pulling orgasm after orgasm from you, rutting against the side of the alter. his cock rubbed harshly against the stone through his pants and while he mourned for the warmth you’d most certainly provide, he’s nothing if not patience. you, his most devoted lamb, were to be rewarded with all his mouth can give. your grip on the rosary became tight enough that it broke, beads falling down to the floor. you’d have been appalled at how careless your treatment of such a sacred object was had you not been so caught up in the pleasure bestowed to you. with eyes rolling back into your head and a particularly high moan, you drenched his face. father Alhaitham would take it as his new holy water, siphoned directly from his own personal fountain of youth and most importantly, from his lover. he panted much as you did as well but this task was far from over for him. how could he end things here when he craved so much more? when your pretty hole was fluttering so enticingly and when his cock was so very close from emptying his balls inside his pants? only a fool would hold back now, he thought as his mouth placed open kisses and bites to your thighs for slight mercy to your already abused cunt. a dreamy sigh left his watering mouth, you really do smell delightful. he spat onto your pussy in a rather debauched fashion before drawing his tongue up from the cleft of your ass to the top of your cunt. with eyes finally drawing back up and across your form, he mentally sent a genuine prayer to your shared god. one so filthy he’d most certainly be sent straight to hell upon death but he couldn’t find it in himself to care; hell could be delightful as long as you’re there with him. his eyes dropped back to your pussy.

“c’mon little one, a bit more for me. you truly are my favourite.”

#cw: sacrilege #cw: blood sacrifice #cw: power imbalance #female reader #afab reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut

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smallgodseries · 11 months

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[image description: A smiling old woman wearing thick black-rimmed bifocals. She wears a green beret over her short grey hair. On her viridian shawl is a blue pin in the shape of a tesseract. In the background, a beautiful galactic formation in blues, pinks and violets. Text reads, “25 Great Grandma O'Keefe - Small God of Wrinkles in Time.”]

Some gods are young for millennia, and other gods are created already old. They don’t experience time the way mortals do. For them, it is an infinite cup, never fully drained, and the passage of days is no more consequential than the passage of seconds. Very few entities, god or mortal, count the passage of seconds. (Ore Ville, Small God of Microwave Popcorn, is among the few who must measure time so very closely.)

Great-Grandma O’Keefe has no children to speak of, has never once been a mother, but we are all her grandchildren, and her great-grandchildren, from the youngest of us even to the oldest. All will pass into her keeping, given time enough to do so.

Those who die before she comes to claim them are still commemorated in her scrapbooks, preserved as they were while they lived. She is not the afterlife. She is a lavender-scented pausing place along the road to that sweet and lasting destination. But she loves them all. She does not judge. That is not the purpose of a great-grandmother.

In her softly wrinkled hands the world is born, and ages, and dies, and is born again, over and over, forever.

Some look upon her works and see wisdom, or character, or a life well-lived. All she sees for herself is time. Time spent, penny by penny, as if it matters no more than what it’s worth, when what truly matters is how little of it there is.

At the end of the day, Great-Grandma O’Keefe is there, with a plate of cookies and a handkerchief, ready to soothe the last of the world’s aches away, ready to take her gifts back from those who no longer need to carry them. It is the only gift she has to offer.

For so many, it has been enough.

#Small Gods #smallgodseries #Seanan McGuire #Lee Moyer #icons and stories

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spottlessspectre · 15 days

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Did- did- did- did you say HTTYD AU on your wip game?

YES I DID AND I'M LOVING PLANNING IT OUT

At the moment I've got a base plan for backstories and character's relationships and things to do with them.

Here's a brief bit of Ghost's gang :]

Simon (Ghost)- will be around 21 years old, rides a stormcutter(more on her in a few) son of a dragon hunter, on his first mission for his father they were sold out by one of his superiors and ended up in a fighting ring against people, dragons and animals, this is where he meets the dragon he rides. He eventually escaped and became the Ghost (his dragon is referred to as the phantom) and spends his time hunting down traffickers of any kind.

Starglider(the phantom): an above average sized female stormcutter, she is mainly a really dark purple and blue with black(think of galaxy pictures) and while she has a few spots on her body, she has a distinct white patch on her face which Ghost copied for his mask. Has prominent scars near her wings as that was the closest hunters could get.

Farah (the Blaze): about 20, Ghost rescued her from a trafficking ring (unfortunately a sex trafficking one this time, but i wont go into detail about her experiences) and they became fast friends in taking down traffickers (very scary sight for anyone given their amazing teamwork in battle) rescued her dragon from a fighting ring and worked to heal wings.

Cinders(the inferno): an average sized female typhoomerang, vibrant red markings and an unusually dusty yellow/orange head with lots of scars on wings from capture time, Farah spent a lot of time healing her wings and ended up bonding with her. When they use the fire tornado thing Farah jumps into the air beforehand (Ghost and Starglider catch her) so that Cinders can go full out without hurting her rider.

Rudy (haven't come up with a name for him yet): maybe 23, ran away from his family as they were abusive, got lost in the nearby woodland and somehow bonded with a young scauldron. Met Ghost and his group when he and his dragon were flying by a hunting ship and didn't realise, they were shot and ended up being rescued and taken back to their hideout, where they have been ever since.

Viridian: an average sized female scauldron with lots of dark greens and light green patterning that looks like light on water, she is very protective of Rudy and only lets people and dragons she trusts near him. Scarring ner her tail from running away from hunters (successfully)

Gary (the Roach): met Ghost when he was found floating half dead in the sea and they nursed him back to health- he met his dragon as he was the one who found him floating and brought him back to the hideout. Is an avid tinkerer and developed a lot of their gear and even made himself goggles with glass. Is selectively mute due to his experience with hunters (do you sense a theme in how they all have trauma?) So I thought it'd be interesting to make him ride a thunderdrum (as I have been reliably informed they are basically deaf) so I could play around with how they communicate. He developed a personal sign language as well as learning the universal one used by most vikings- all of the gang know the sign language- he also created a code similar to morse to communicate in the dark, and a tapping system for his dragon.

Klank: a smaller than average male thunderdrum with deep purple markings and some blue spots on his back, chipped teeth from chewing metal because he lacks braincells as well as hearing.

#cod #cod fic #wip game #ao3 #httyd #httyd au #ghostsoap #task force 141 #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #farah karim #rudolfo parra #dragons

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t-tomuras · 1 month

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tw reader death, angst. Alastor x f reader

His smile has never faltered, never once has it been on the brink of falling away from his features. Only ever marred with his snarl, creating a sinister grin or a displeased twitch to his eye depending on the situation but the expression has never threatened to fall away from his face.

Never has it not felt right to smile. Not even on the day of his mother’s funeral despite the ache in his chest. She agreed with him, instilled the value unto him, it’s why it’s still his favorite song.

You’re never truly dressed without a smile.

Denial can only carry him so far, can only keep the tight lipped grin from shattering and his face fall for the first time in who knows how long. Certainly before Alastor’s own afterlife.

“Alright sweetheart,” he breaks the silence, the eerie ring that makes his ears flick. Already pinned back with an aggression he hasn’t fully felt yet, hasn’t unleashed because somewhere along the way he’d reined it in. Diluted it because you always seemed so adverse to the occurrence, the pinning of your own ears no longer producing a sick delight in him in the progress of the undefined relationship.

You were his though, that much was clear, “I know you favor the dramatics but it’s time that we go. Charlie will worry.”

He cups your cheek soothingly, thumb stroking along the apple and up into your hairline as it’s done most mornings now because you’ve never been easy to wake. Less so as you’d come to inhabit his bed.

“You’ve slept long enough dear,” Alastor sighs, glancing down to the crimson trail from the corner of your lip down your chin. Licking his thumb to rid your skin of the stain the same as he’s done those peaceful mornings following the carnal nights he’d let you bite to your hearts content.

He isn’t the delusional type, subconsciously desiring he was at least in this very moment but the devil was in the details, even the red of your dress is telling of the situation. The brilliant gradient of black into scarlet now steadily stained; the garment dying a dark sticky mauve, spreading slowly down your chest.

You’re bleeding out, no longer gasping for breath, when had you stopped? Relinquished yourself to the struggle for air as the gush of your life force has slowed to a sluggish seep around the holy weapon lodged deeply into your sternum before its splintered at the hilt. Liquid gold staining beneath your sharp claws that rest over your abdomen.

You didn’t go down without a fight did you? Not his little spitfire. You’ve dealt with worse before, you’d told the tale of how you’d found yourself in Hell in the first place

“It’s time to get up darling,” he clutches you just a little closer, intentionally ignoring the way your skin feels cooler already. How there’s no tension to your limbs, surely you would’ve reached for him by now right? You’ve always done so even in deep slumber, searching for him and his warmth. Will you grab for him? His blood is already beginning to boil, the stitches along his body beginning to glow in the ominous viridian.

“Adam is dead”, he comments slowly, static emitting from him in the way it does when he’s agitated, “the extermination is over.”

His voice takes on an ominous warble, teeth glowing as the Cheshire grin grows tight, dials flickering in attempt to replace crimson irises. Sclera dissolving into endless voids that reflect the serene look of your face, too lifeless to be endearing. The backs of his knuckles stroking from your temple upwards into your hairline before he slams his fist into the ground to splinter the already shattered terrain.

What was the point? The purpose? They’d won had they not?

Alastor’s body continues to contort, grow in size as he cradles you in one hand. Hunched forward as the glow he minutes illuminates you in an ironic sickly hue.

“Wake up my dear,” shaking you now, falling limp in his hold. Limbs flailing as if you were boneless now and it causes him to snarl. Bringing you closer to him as his voice darkens to a demonic sound, morphed until Alastor’s softer tone is no longer discernible.

“T̸̮̞͔͐̈͐̂̄ͅḣ̸̨͇̦̳̼̩̲͆̀̐̈͗̕i̴͍̰͍͗̒́̀͋̏̋̅ṡ̵̢̧̬͓̥̹͈̩̦̰̈́͌̿̑̈́̀̕͝ ̶͕̣̤͇̘̉́͋̃ͅí̴̛̛̞͙͖̜̯̫̝͕͂̃̌̋͘͝͝ͅs̸̱͇̫̖̫̟̥̐͑̈́͛̎͠ ̵̨̥̻͈̬͊̈́̐̈̂̀͑̔ͅn̴̰̺̹̪̍̔ȏ̶̡͙̲̈͒̽̽̌̑͝ ̴̻̰̪̮̯͇͇̔͗̀ṕ̶̢̞̝̣͈͎̭̇͐̌͌͜͝ͅl̷̡̜̺̞̒̂ͅa̴̞͙̣̱̼̗͗̀͘͠c̵̡̡̜̙̹͇̘͙̊̾͒́ͅḙ̸̢̲̥͍̰̾̿̀̔̕͘ͅ ̴̝͓̣̮̰͔̽̓̉̿̀ţ̶̛͗̋̓̈́́̈͋̌ŏ̵̹̦̜͉̣͖̖́̀͝ͅ ̸̡̯̮̫̠͚̟͓̄̔́̓̀̊̕͜ͅd̸̼̈́̆̔͐̄̓͒i̵̡̭͚͔̭͚̠̭̇͋̾̚e̸̺̝͖̖̗̓͐.̸̙̹̣̂́̐̔̑̎͛̉͂”

#vixen drabbles #I dunno I wanted 2 be dramatic

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theviridianbunny · 5 months

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THEVIRIDIANBUNNY - VIRTUAL PHOTOGRAPHY 2023

TEMPLATE BY @wanderingaldecaldo -!!

As the end of 2023 draws near I have decided to fill in a fun template - showing some of my fave pieces of VP from each month of this year (you can see the full images under the cut) creating virtual photography has been something that has made me very happy this year - i've made so many wonderful friends through interacting with the fandom ((pssst @another-corpo-rat @halsin @heywoodvirgin @dustymagpie @fereldanwench @miss--river @wanderingaldecaldo @chessalein @imaginarycyberpunk2023 @chipped-chimera i'm talkin about y'all~ )) Anyway - enough of the soppy stuff - here's to 2024 and more vp - more blorbos and more happy yelling about the loml and lovl (love of viridian's life) <3

January - date night at corpo plaza 💌

February - playing dress up with Viridian ;u;

March - non sexual intimacy by beloved <3 just the blorbos sharing space - laying together after coming home from a gig

April - TWO MERCS IN A BD BOOTH - WHATEVER WILL THEY DO?? *eyes emoji*

May - *CLUB TROPICANA BY WHAM BLARES LOUDLY IN THE BACKGROUND*

June - Bunny's first NPV (in the form of @wanderingaldecaldo's Valerie Vermilion)

July - Viridian's birthday <3

August - moody after dark shot

September - TWO EX CORPOS WANDER INTO A BAR (featuring @imaginarycyberpunk2023's Macha)

October - Girls night @ lizzies (featuring @wanderingaldecaldo Val again!)

November - started to play around with props again - and the ACU mod - shot for my matrix au

December - love in full bloom (i mean- this is a november shot - but we are almost halfway thru december and i have no spoons for cyberpunk vp and probably wont until the new year - so we're callin it my shot for december <3 )

#bunny takes virtual photography #oc: viridian #jackie welles #otp: to this #valerie vermilion #macha #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #wanderingaldecaldo #cyberpunk 2077 photomode #virtual photography #dailygaming #gamingnetwork #year in review

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likesunsetorange · 2 months

Note

Praying that its e2l related 🤣🤞

revy for you i opened my e2l doc and worked on the intro ive been struggling with LOL

so exes to lovers wip! i know this au is neglected here but here’s a little preview! this takes place a year before their breakup :)

a little long but 1.4k since i haven’t posted anything from this au!!!!!

exes to lovers au wip

February 2022 Portland, Oregon

The last few bits of remaining sun peeked out through the clouds, casting a warm glow into the living room. Short winter days had quickly transitioned into another long winter night, leaving everyone to their own devices.

Mikasa glanced around the room, eyeing her friends from where she sat on the couch, finding herself too tired to go and socialize with everyone else. After a day of hiking that Eren had forced them upon, everyone had been trying to wind down, attempting to preoccupy themselves, which created the mass of chaos before her.

Sasha and Connie trying (and failing every time) to start a fire in the fireplace; Jean and Ymir arguing over how to properly cut onions while they (Armin) tried to make dinner together, and she was sure there was something else that had been brought up that she couldn’t quite remember or bother to care about; Pieck and Hisu struggling to carry trays of hot chocolate to the living room, only causing Mikasa to worry that they would be charged an extra fee for whatever sort of mess that they made in the process; Hitch resided beside her on the couch, trying to figure out how to load the cartridge of film into her film camera, and ultimately failing; and Eren, she had realized, was nowhere to be found.

Her brow furrowed as she scanned the room, looking for any trace of him, knowing that his presence would be requested as soon as Hitch figured out how to reload her film camera—insisting that their trip be further documented.

“Hey, Hitch, have you seen Eren?” Mikasa asked, turning to face her.

Hitch, who hadn’t bothered to look up from what she was doing, shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, I thought he left a while ago. He seemed all upset or something—I thought you two were fighting or something, to be honest.”

Mikasa’s face scrunched in annoyance, especially considering she hadn’t seen Eren since he went to take a shower over an hour ago. “We aren’t fighting, what are you—”

“Got it!” Hitch cheered, ignoring Mikasa’s comment. She turned towards where everyone else was, so they could better hear her. “Hey! Let’s take a picture, finally! I got this stupid thing working.” Mikasa eyed Hitch, her face giving away her irritation at her lack of social awareness, causing Hitch to cower in fear (though she would probably never admit it). “And someone go find Eren! Mikasa’s worried.”

Mikasa huffed as she stood up, filing herself to the larger couch while Hitch positioned the camera in front of it. She watched as everyone crowded around the couch, everyone finding a seat on or in front of the couch. Her mind was filled with thoughts of Eren, worried about what could have possibly upset him.

The feeling of strong arms wrapping around her middle took her out of her thoughts. She turned to face the culprit, the familiar viridian eyes greeting her with a warm smile.

“Hey,” he greeted, a hint of something she couldn’t quite decipher lingering in his voice. “You miss me?”

Mikasa’s hand found his cheek, gently caressing it. “I did, actually,” she mused. “Everything okay? You were gone for a bit—Hitch said you looked upset when you ran off to wherever.”

Eren came around, fixing Mikasa into his lap, as he positioned his chin comfortably onto her shoulder. Hitch was still fidgeting with the camera, giving Eren no time to avoid her question. “Just stuff with my parents… You know my dad hasn’t been doing good—the company and all that. But I don’t wanna talk about it right now, we’re on a trip, and your birthday is tomorrow—that’s what matters right now.”

“Eren… You know that stuff is important—” Mikasa started, her words cut off by Hitch once again.

“Okay, everyone hurry up! We have like ten seconds before it takes the picture so don’t fuck it up!” She yelled as she ran towards the couch, taking a seat next to Armin and Sasha.

Mikasa released a sigh not wanting their conversation to be interrupted, but not having a choice in this instance. She fixed her face into a smile as she waited for the flash to go off, not wanting to irritate Hitch any further.

They took picture after picture until Hitch was satisfied, resulting in sore cheeks for everyone, and earning complaints from everyone. Everyone gathered around the coffee table, passing around the printed-out photos.

Mikasa was finally ready to be done, wanting to go look at the pictures herself, when Hitch stopped her. “Hey, you two stay there. Let me take one of you two,” she said, motioning them to sit back down. “You’ll thank me when you have cute pictures to show your future kids one day.”

“Hitch, just take the picture,” Mikasa muttered, her voice teetering the edge of being snappy.

Mikasa wrapped her arm around Eren, nestling closer into his side, trying to relieve herself of her slight irritation, knowing nobody was at fault in this situation. She found herself frustrated that she was annoyed in the first place, knowing that there was nothing to be upset about, she should be enjoying herself, knowing she was surrounding by all the people she loved.

As if Eren could sense her uneasiness, she felt him press a kiss onto her cheek. “Hey, relax,” he whispered into her ear. “There’s nothing to worry about, okay?” Mikasa felt her shoulders loosen up, Eren’s voice and presence the one thing to always bring her back down to earth.

“Okay, on three! Three… two… one!” Hitch counted down, the flash going off on one. She handed them the undeveloped picture before joining the others, rambling about how she deserved to be the godmother to their hypothetical future children for things like this.

“It is a nice picture, she has a good point,” Eren said as he inspected the picture. “I think it would be nice to have for stuff like that.”

A smile lit across Mikasa’s face, kids, and a future. Things she had always considered but always seemed so far off—but now, seemed closer than she liked to admit. “You wanna be the father to my kids then, huh?” She teased, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Who else would be the father to your kids?” Eren scoffed, his brows furrowing the way he always did when he tried to hide his emotions—whether it be annoyance or jealousy.

“Nobody but you, Eren,” she said, chuckling before pressing a kiss to a forehead. “That would be nice, though, little versions of us, don’t you think?”

“Mhmm, I think about it all the time, to be honest,” he admitted.

“You do?”

“Well, maybe not the kids and the specifics—although I would want us to have all girls if it was my choice,” he said, chuckling. “But just about us, and our future in general. I love you, I see you in my future always.”

After so many years of being together, it was hard to remember a time when Eren wasn’t in her life. There had never been a time in Mikasa’s life where there had been no Mikasa and Eren in some capacity—whether that was friendship or dating—he was a permanent fixture in her life, and she knew he always would be.

“I love you too, Eren,” Mikasa replied, interlacing her hand with his. “Always have, always will.”

“Even when we were kids and I pushed you too hard off the swings and gave you your scar?” A dimple peeked out from his cheek, a grin flashing across his face.

“I think I was too busy crying to think about whether I loved you or not—but you made your parents buy us ice cream, so I’m sure seven-year-old Mikasa loved you just a bit then too.”

“Well I hope you’ll love me in the future and don’t somehow find a way to get tired of me.”

“How could I ever get tired of you, Eren?” She said, smiling, before pressing another kiss to his lips and standing up.

Mikasa helped Eren to his feet before he enveloped her in another hug, tucking her into his chest. “I don’t know, but I hope you never do. I don’t know how I’d live a life without Mikasa, you really are my other half.”

She hummed in response, wrapping her arms around his middle. “Yea, I don’t know how I would either, Ren. Love you a bit too much to ever get rid of you.”

#asks #exes to lovers au #vic’s wips

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christinesficrecs · 1 year

Note

Screamed when I realized you were still an active blogger! Just starting to get back into Sterek. Do you know many fics like The Mating Privilege? So they are dating but have to pretend not to and Derek basically ends up neglecting Stiles and their relationship? A lot of older stories don’t have a ton of tags so thought I’d give it a try:) thanks lovely!

Welcome back! ❤️ Well not very many, but here are a few.

The Mating Privilege by Kikileduc | 35.3K | Mature

Stiles and Derek have been happily mated. The pack is doing well, but in hopes of creating alliances for it to do better, Derek accepts a neighboring pack's request to allow two wolves to join the Hale-McCall pack for a full moon cycle. They hope to form a blood-tie, or at least a long term friendship between the two packs. The issue is Kohona, the tribal leader's daughter, has her eyes set on an unavailable alpha wolf. This could have drastic consequences for their young emissary, however...

I don't like the way she's looking at you (I'm starting to think you want her too) by May_Belle | 13.7K | Mature

It has to look like you and Derek haven't fucked on every flat surface of this house this week alone so that Tessa sees Derek as a strong, totally available alpha that she can possibly make several babies with one day."

Or the one where Stiles and Derek pretend they aren't completely in love with each other for the sake of a possible pack alliance.

Taught by Experts by unpossible | 29K

“Let me get this straight,” Stiles says. “You’re going to be publicly dating someone else.”

How I Long For Yesterday by sweetbutterbliss | 6K | Mature

Stiles blinks, his throat going dry, and he moves his thumb without thinking - liking the post. He feels a surge of petty satisfaction. At least the fucker will know he knows now. He stands up, his body feeling too heavy, and he blows out the already guttering candles. He lets out a sob of frustration when the last one won't fucking blow out. But he sucks it back in and bites down on his tongue, using his thumb and forefinger instead.

He throws himself into their empty bed without undressing. He lies there repeating the words 'Derek blew me off for Isaac' over and over. He tells himself to shut up while rearranging his pillow violently, but he goes to sleep with the refrain continuing its painful loop.

Viridian by betp | 5.9K

Dude, forget Stiles."

#asks #sterek fics #ficrecs #derek neglects stiles #pretending not to date #derek hale is bad at feelings #oh the angst

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viridian-tay-leaf · 5 months

Text

Pick a Pile (General Message)

Pile 1 🌸| Pile 2 💮

Pile 3 🌼| Pile 4 🌺

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 1:

🎶 2020, 2020 vision... I wonder if you look both ways when you cross my mind~🎶

Y'all are down bad huh

Love songs all day bb

🎶 Sweet sweet fantasy baby~🎶

You think they don't like you back but you'll never know unless you try

Think of it this way, would you rather pine for them for months without knowing what you could be or would you rather take the risk & either get together or save yourself time getting over them

The choice is always yours since only you have the power to change your situation

Do it afraid, it's best to know than to regret not trying in the first place

If you choose to confess and it works out I'm happy for you and I expect you to communicate clearly in your new relationship

If you confess and it doesn't work out how you thought it would, it's a blessing in disguise (may need to see/been drawn to Pile 4)

🎶What goes around comes back around, hey my baby..... I will always be the best thing you never had~🎶

As always Be good, Be kind, Be safe love

Pile 2:

You guys are just chillin, going with the flow day by day babes

Strolling through town, walking like you own the place, embodying your favorite self.

Okay self love, keep it going babes!

👏🏽 Good For Youuuuu 👏🏽

Some of you may have just gone through a breakup. You want them back, or atleast the feelings you had during that time.

It'll be okay, you're not gonna be crushed by this. It's all apart of the bigger picture. Big things are coming and you have to clear out the old to get the new. The universe is working in your favor, you just have to trust & cocreate with them

For now, nurture yourself. What would Childhood you do when you feel like this? Do it & tap into your childhood energy. It might be more impactful than you think

Coloring pages, candles, childhood music, movie nights, hot chocolate, tea time, back into holiday spirit

🎶I feel nice, like sugar & spice~🎶

Farewell & Good luck for the journey you're about to go on

As always, Be good, Be kind, Be safe~

Pile 3:

Who hurt you!?!? And can I have their address, I just wanna talk 💢

Seriously though, are you okay? Do you need a hug if so go hug someone or a plushie if you can.

Y'all are in a slump/stuck in the vortex or your emotions

Take the feelings you have, acknowledge them and if they help the current situation. If they don't do much but make you stuck, I suggest blessing them and letting them go (easier said than done ik)

It'll take some time, as all heartbreaks do, but you'll get through it and bounce back stronger than ever

Once you get back into your groove, no one can stop you

🎶Nothing can stop me I'm all the way up~🎶

As always, Be good, Be kind, Be safe..........especially to yourselves

Pile 4:

Heyyyyyyyy, I love your energy, your vibe, your aura babes. Ahhhh *chefs kiss * 😘

Y'all are in your bag, spiritually & physically

You've done the work.

You've changed your mindset/limiting beliefs

Now is the time babe, all you gotta do is ask and it's yours

You're in New territory. Your mind/heart are screaming at you to "Be careful!" ⚠ 🚨. Sirens are going off and your ego is trying to protect you by sending some fear

Here's the thing though, you've been through this before. You've lived thousands of lives and nothing stopped you back then, so why should it stop you now?

You're aware of your power now. You broke the barriers. You know you have the control over your situation, over your life and what you want to do with it. Cause it's yours, it's your life, you can do what you want (within reason) and you can get what you want if you just try

🎶What you gonna do if it doesn't work out how you thought it would...Feels unfair and you wanna turn around but its for your own good~🎶

🎶I've never been here, but that makes it new doesn't mean it's strange~🎶

🎶I'm not lost, I'm on an adventure~🎶

Take your time

Rest if needed

Self-care is super important for this pile

Breathe it in

Enjoy your adventure, cause soon enough it'll be a wild ride. Even more than you could've ever imagined

Get rid of the plan & go with the flow of the universe

Let the ideas come to you, let them guide you, let go and cocreate with em

Don't chase what you want, attract it by knowing that it belongs to you, it's already yours so why worry

🎶Why should I worry, why should I care~🎶

Do things you love, change up your daily routine, be more present and actually look at what's around you

Take the next day slow & really be present. Then reflect on how this feels at the end of the day. You've got this. You just have to believe that you do. You are the authority of your own story, so make it a good one~

As always, Be good, Be kind, Be safe 😘

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withoutyouimsaskia · 1 year

Text

Remember Me, Special Dreams

Part XVIII.

GIF: Originally posted by @khun-sam

Summary: Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit. (Title from the lyrics of Placebo’s Special Needs)

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of night terrors.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Hello there, how are things? Many of you may be aware that it’s Tom Sturridge’s birthday today so I’ve decided to release this chapter a day early to celebrate! I really hope you like this one, let me know. I’m squeeing at the thought of you reading it! Take care, all my love, Saskia <3

Sandman Masterlist

-----------------

Morpheus meets you at the end of the bridge that is furthest from the palace. He stands with his hands on the stone side as he surveys the lake.

“Hi, Morpheus,” you begin, your tone as bright as the sun above you. “Where are we going today?”

He looks towards you with a mischief loaded smile.

“There is something that I would like to show you.”

Your curiosity is ignited. “Okay. I’ll let you lead the way.”

The King of Dreams sets off with his usual powerful gait.

“How was your day?” He asks.

“It was quite lovely, actually. The summer weather is doing me a lot of good.” Seasonal affective disorder usually hit you hard. “What did I miss when I was awake?”

“My sister spent some time with me.”

“Your sister?”

“You seem surprised.”

You fumble for words. “Well, um, it’s just that you’d never really mentioned your family before and now you've made contact.”

"Our conversation last night inspired me.”

Happiness literally radiates from him and it warms your heart.

“I’m really pleased for you, Morpheus," you say warmly.

“I told her about you.”

Your eyes widen with shock. You were not expecting that at all and the thought of people talking about you was a sensitive issue. “What did you say?”

“Just about your nocturnal abilities and how we are managing them.”

Your chest caves in with relief; it was nothing too embarrassing thankfully. “Which sister did you see?”

“My elder sister, Death.”

“What is she like?”

He looks down, selecting his words. “She is wise and compassionate beyond measure and I admire her a great deal. I think you would like her.”

“It sounds like you have a strong bond.”

He nods. “I would go as far as saying that she is my preferred sibling.”

You laugh. “I’m not sure you’re supposed to have a favourite. From what I’ve observed, it tends to annoy the others.”

“I can assure you that there is no shortage of friction-inducing incidents in my family, regardless of whether I declare that I prefer my sister.”

“Oh.”

He comes to a stop and you follow suit.

“We’ve arrived,” he announces. “This is Fiddler’s Green.”

You stand at the mouth of something that instantly reminds you of an illustration of a glade you would find in a fairytale story book.

Swathes of green grass stretch out before both of your boot-clad feet. Pockets of wildflowers create a mosaic of colours giving detail to the viridian background. Delicate ox-eye daisies contrast against the electric purple splashes of cornflowers. The cowslip look like little yellow fireworks. Foxgloves of every colour imaginable rise up higher than the rest of the flowers with confident majesty.

Tall trees, heaving with blossom fill the upper third of your vision. In the distance there is a waterfall. It flows with torrents of aquamarine into a pool below that is as blue as Morpheus’ eyes. It has been so long since you have seen one that it makes your soul sing.

Pink blossom petals scatter in a gentle breeze, falling like fragrant snow. You notice that the breeze moves like breath. Rhythmically. It flows languidly in and out using the glade as its lungs.

You are completely silent, overwhelmed by the scenery. It is another one of those moments where you feel humbled.

"Is something amiss?" Morpheus questions.

"Not at all."

His eyes narrow a fraction; he is completely unconvinced.

"You've become very quiet all of a sudden."

“Can you blame me?” You look down feeling self-conscious.

“I suppose not. This place is supposed to have that effect.”

You take a couple of steps, sending dandelion clocks into dizzying spirals. They disperse far and wide. There’s a suggestion of a path so you take it, walking right up to the edge of the body of water.

Shafts of sunlight refract spectrums through the liquid. Its surface is lightly dappled by the action of the waterfall. The sound is serene.

You carry on strolling absentmindedly until you decide to take a rest a few paces from the tree line.

There’s a cluster of bee orchids nearby, you notice them as you sink into a cross legged position. Morpheus, who has been walking beside you the entire time, sits next to you. The sun is warm on your face and you feel so contented that you close your eyes.

However, not long after, you are forced to open them again because your sixth sense starts pinging.

You find Morpheus staring at you.

"What?" You ask as a nervous blush bleeds across your chest and up your neck to your face. “What are you thinking about?”

"I am recalling the first time that I met you,” he replies.

Your stomach muscles pull inwards. "I'm still really sorry about that. I was quite stubborn wasn't I? And talkative. I can’t begin to imagine what went through your mind when I immediately told you that you were attractive. You must have thought I was a right odd duck. Not that there's anything wrong with ducks. Ducks are great... Sorry, I've started babbling.”

You look at your hands resting in your lap.

"I cannot deny, it was one of the more eccentric encounters that I have had with humans.” His tone changes from playful to reassuring. “But I cannot hold it against you. You were dangerously sleep deprived, and I have since got to know you as a person.”

“I’m sorry about that too,” you deadpan.

“I’m not.” He replies abruptly, missing your sarcasm. “You are a remarkable being and spending time with you brings me great pleasure.”

“I feel the same. Your friendship means a lot to me.”

You both become silent.

Out of the corner of your eye you see a strange movement from inside Morpheus’ coat. You tilt your head to one side inquisitively.

“Have those stars always been there?” You ask as you focus in on the galaxies tracking across the lining of the garment.

“Yes," he says softly.

You wonder how you missed them before. You lean in, wanting to see them in greater detail.

“They’re beautiful,” you breathe. “Are they real?”

“Yes.”

Your fingers extend instinctively but you pause before you get too carried away.

You find his eyes.

“May I?”

He nods and pulls the coat open a little further to aid your endeavour.

You shuffle closer, reaching out with your dominant hand.

A thrill goes through you as you make contact. Your gaze widens and a little gasp falls from your mouth. The sensation is nothing like you expected it to be.

The stars swirl trails of warmth over and under the layers of your skin with the faint tickle of an ASMR reaction. You wonder what it would be like to actually wear the coat and whether it would feel like heaven.

You look back to Morpheus. His eyes are closed and there is a peaceful expression on his face.

The whole thing suddenly strikes you as feeling very intimate.

You pull your hand a centimetre back and Morpheus' eyes flutter open. You make to retract even further when his own hand captures yours.

Your lips part in surprise. He relaxes his grip.

"I apologise.”

"It's okay.”

He takes a deep breath through his nose. “I oftentimes recognise that I am touch deprived and may find myself craving it."

“It’s okay,” you repeat again. “I understand that feeling too."

To add evidence to your reply, you return your hand to his, releasing a wave of shivers from the residual energy of being in contact with the constellations.

Morpheus’ eyes are locked with yours as he speaks. "You're trembling."

"There's a lot of power in that coat," you murmur.

He hums in response, and the sound goes right to your chest.

“There’s a lot of power in you too.”

All he can give is a controlled nod in return. You can literally feel the anxiety seeping out of him.

There are candyfloss coloured petals flying about you, settling on both your bodies and the grass you are sitting on.

You are getting delirious. You question if you should have touched the coat for as long as you did.

Your heartbeat thuds in your ears. It’s galloping away, showing no signs of slowing down.

You can’t handle the intensity of his gaze anymore. You close your eyes.

Morpheus’ breath is cool on your cheeks. Then, his equally cold fingertips graze your cheek, your jawbone.

Suddenly the touch is gone. You are crestfallen, about to open your eyes again when his lips brush yours.

The act is so tentative that it makes tears prick from behind your eyelids. You daren’t move.

He kisses you again. It’s fleeting and chaste, loaded with care and respect. It makes you feel as if you are the most delicate thing in the universe.

You decide that you like the emotion it invokes within you. To be treated with reverence; it was something you desperately wanted to receive and also share with someone. And so when Morpheus’ lips find your own again, you return the sentiment with as much of your being as you can muster.

---------------------

"What a way to go to bed with those thoughts inside your head."

Taglist: @pinkcyclewitch @layla2-49 @shoidy-cat @silverhart93 @boofy1998 @dotieeee @ponyboys-sunsets @fangirlmary @littledollll @fatimakinney @jamiethenerdymonster @rosaren2498 @mr-sandman-bring-me-a-dream @madiebear @sandman-33 @sallysal9 @asiludida164

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valentine-cafe · 4 months

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alessio agresta arias ( 9948e )

"N e v e r m o r e ~ " quoth the Raven, Alessio~ But what if the Raven meant, " Forever more ~ " ? Would this make you happy to spend all eternity with me, and never find yourself able to leave my side? Even if I must chain you up, in a pretty little cage ~ ? // Pft, I have been working too much, and reading too much gothic poety.

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ earth 9948e alessio agresta arias

˗ˏˋ꒰🍪꒱ sorcerer x reader, cw: yandere themes

“what an observation, mi hermosa,”

his raspy voice remains low, an almost rumble within the depths of his throat as the two of you sway. an arm around your middle, a hand stained with runes, and a thousand curses cast, linked with yours. within his dim home, lit by only two entities. the moonlight shining through the windows. . .

along with the viridian glow of a dozen open tomes circled around your waltzing feet.

“what if. . . indeed.” the sorcerer brings your hand to his lips as eyes consumed by the same glow of magic focus upon yours. “perhaps it is fate then? to be locked away with you, in a world that will never hurt us or our lost love again.”

as alessio sways with you, his dark poet shirt flutters in the breeze.

“perhaps it is fate indeed.”

the hand on yours brings it to wrap around his neck while his arm dips you abruptly. clinging to you just as you cling to him, with dark nails clawing at the small of your back and a huff of heated air leaving his black-painted lips. a spark of his viridian magic erupts from his fluttering gaze. . . as the tomes surrounding create a world for solely you and him.

a place to be with one another forever; with your lost love now brought back through your joint efforts. a product of your loss of sanity.

“to be chained by you, in a cage of your love.”

#⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ loveletters — alessio agresta arias 9948e ꒱#terato #terato x reader #teratophillia #monster oc #monster x reader #oc x reader #monster boyfriend #monster boyfriend x reader #sorcerer x reader #sorcerer oc #witch x reader #witch oc #alessio agresta arias 9948e x reader #alessio 9948e x reader #interactions

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thenightmarketofdathomir · 6 months

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Happy Halloween! I hope your day is full of fun and frights for the spooky season! 👻🎃💀

Trick or treat! 🦇

-Strawberrycrunch

Last of the night. Enjoy your treats in all their weird flavours.

Pairing: Reader x Zombie!Savage Rating: PG Warnings: Dead dude suffering dead dude things

Past the last grove of grave thorns where the last village was lost, the swamp stretches in all directions. Mist-draped and dark, juts of gnarled overgrowth reach upwards, ready to snare unsuspecting travellers.

Those old trees are bare now, the funerary pods that decorated them long emptied. If the passage of time is marked by tragedy, Dathomir has seen its share and then some.

There’s nothing left here. Everything slumbers, save for the Spirits.

They light a path through the grave thorns — at first just a flicker of white-green, and then, brighter. Tiny flames hovering just over the water, sending lights into the darkness to make grim shapes from the shadows.

Swamp gasses, you tell yourself, because you know there’s no one left here to light the braziers — not the Nightsisters, definitely, though maybe a Nightbrother clan that’s taken to the higher peaks of the mountains. The fire is the same green as the ichor. Little drips of it. Persistent against so much darkness.

You shiver.

Dathomir’s overgrowth is too busy consuming the ruins to notice one lonesome archaeologist investigating the rest of it, but for a moment you can’t help but feel like a trespasser: an outsider encroaching on territories that don’t belong to her.

Some private mourning rituals for the departed, you wonder? Like the lights are beacons for the fallen, but why are you compelled to investigate further?

The data log says the entire village was flattened, the arenas too. Nothing to preserve but their history, so what you hoped to find were relics: mementos of the way they lived when the Nightbrothers remained subservient to the Nightsisters, before the Crimson Dawn set up its headquarters in the mountain and Maul took over.

There are rumours, of course: the nexus is powerful. Like a magnet. And everything born of Dathomir eventually returns to it.

It’s just a theory — a hypothesis you can’t really test, given how many lives were lost in the war and after it.

But you’ve a curious nature, and you don’t fear superstition.

That doesn’t explain the lights in the forest.

Brave or stupid, you’re a scientist. You decide to follow them.

Darkness on Dathomir has a weight that rests like a hand between your shoulders. It nestles in around you, the mist and murk as the trees blot out the red sky, the black trees bent over creating a corridor that gives you pause for just a moment.

There are superstitions in other cultures, where dark passages like these are sometimes haunted, but the swamp is still save for a few errant black flowers that bloom between the creeper in the crevasses, the groans of distant nydak not near enough to be a threat.

The little lights usher you forward, wisping away as you approach them, and lighting the path further as if to lure you into deeper places where the silence shelters you from the outside world and all you can hear is your breathing.

It’s unsettling, and heart beating, you wonder how you’ll return because the way back is shuttered, veiled over with black.

You’re not sure any longer what you’re searching for, but you’re certain there’s something out here that you’re meant to find.

You feel it like the Force’s stirrings. You feel it in your blood, rushing in your temples with a persistent hush.

And when everything falls to that eerie silence where not even the burble of water penetrates the dark, the lights wink out at last, letting the green seep out. It bathes the trees in bright viridian, emerging from a single source at the centre of a clearing:

A barrow of sorts, wooded over with desiccated branches as if the creature at the centre has been hiding. A monster, you think, because surely nothing living can sustain itself on so little —

“Is that you, brother?”

The rumble of his voice is in the baritone of broken things: a legacy of damaged pieces cobbled back together, muscular tissues holding on by threads. His eyes are green and smoking, the horns on his head draped with lichen, but when he turns his enormous head in your direction, you realize that he can’t see you as clearly as you see him.

“Who’s there?” he asks you, but you feel his hesitation, a trickle of fear prompting him to grasp his spear.

He fumbles it, the weapon slipping. His claws too long to hold it.

“How long have you been down here?” you ask him.

He stiffens, the drops of moss across his shoulders threadbare. Pieces of him are missing and patched together with magick. He’s barely holding together, but there’s one thing you can be certain of: Nightbrothers are resilient.

His frown speaks of deeper preoccupations, like you’ve interrupted his thinking.

“I’ve been waiting,” he says.

He doesn’t elaborate. Maybe the memory has failed him.

You can see his ribs. The draping of his skin illuminated by ichor. It peeks through the markings on his chest where the flesh has thinned.

He looks down at himself as if realizing the condition he’s in, touching with hesitant fingers. It occurs to you that Dathomir is not the only thing that’s haunted.

“I woke up here,” he explains. “But this isn’t where I started.”

Three fingers touch his chest, the black and yellow markings a mottle of stanched decay. You can still see his tattoos — the blade that ornaments the stretch of his spine. Corded muscle. Handsome features beneath the weathering.

“Can I come closer?”

He blinks, staring.

“Are you not afraid?”

You take a hesitant step, setting down your toes into soft mulching earth, and wait for his permission.

“I think you need help,” you tell him.

“I think I’m a monster,” he murmurs, but beneath the self-deprecation, there is some humour left.

“I think whoever did this to you is the real villain.” You mean it to be soothing, but he only bows his head. A moment further, and his consideration fritters into a brush of his overly large hand, pulling with it some vines that have grown over him.

“They can’t hurt me again. They are dead.”

Nightsisters, then. That explains the ichor that animates him. Persistent even after death.

You tread closer, the dark hulk of his frame shimmering green along the edges.

“Who are you waiting for?” you ask him. “Maybe I can find them.”

“That’s impossible. Maul is the one who is easily lost.” He blinks, and frowning, he shakes his head. “No, that is incorrect. My brother. I lost him when I —” he trails off, stark realization creeping in at a distance to settle on him. It pushes down his shoulders as he remembers the particulars. “When I evanesced,” he finishes.

His death.

You tilt your head. “Your brother is alive yet, somewhere,” you conclude for him. “He’s not ready to meet you.”

Those green, smoking eyes turn appraising, some clarity returning before his expression sinks into shadow once again.

“But I am lonely,” he says.

You hesitate just a moment. The space beside him is big enough for a friend, you think, and he is so heavy that his shoulders curl over onto himself — the weight of his burdens bowing him to earth. Like they might bury him, if you don’t help at least a little.

What good are such fascinating discoveries if you can’t solve their riddles?

Carefully, you place your fingers on his massive fist:

A gentle touch. Like you might break him.

He stares at it — your delicate fingers tender with him, this patient creature whose loyalty leaves him covered in bits of buddiea and lichen while he waits for his brother to return to join him.

Some part of you hopes that when he does, they’ll move on from here.

“I’ll be your company,” you tell him. “If you’d like.”

Appearing as if no one has ever offered any gesture of the sort before, his lips part in surprise: an expression so human and vulnerable, you can see how every line and furrow visibly softens. It changes his expression. He appears younger, as if lurking under the fearsome exterior, there once was a Nightbrother who could feel surprise.

“And my brother?”

You sit down beside him, taking his large hand in your tiny one, nudging for him to scoot over so you can get comfortable beside him.

“Tell me about him,” you say. “I want to know who’s to blame for making you wait.”

#Darth Maul #Savage Opress #Savage Opress x Reader #Savage Opress x You #Nightsisters #Nightbrothers #The Night Market of Dathomir #Trick or Treat Asks

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thoughtportal · 2 months

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Before publishing his Atlas in 1915, painter and art teacher Albert Henry Munsell (1858–1918) had spent decades seeking to compress the totality of human color experience into a simple and elegant three-dimensional graphical model. In 1879, after reading physicist Ogden Rood’s Modern Chromatics, he devised a pair of twirling triangular color pyramids joined at the base. In 1898, he painted a child’s globe in subtly shifting shades, only to find that the globe’s perfect symmetry could not sufficiently map the differences in strength — which he called “chroma” — between colors or “hues”. By 1905, in his A Color Notation, Munsell had moved to a tree as model, since its unequal length branches could accommodate different hues, chroma, and “value”, the third axis of his system, which ran vertically from the pure white crown of the tree to its pure black roots.

In the Atlas, the Color Tree and Color Sphere give way to cross-sectional charts by which the user is meant to imaginatively assemble a “realistic” system of alphanumeric notation. Each individual color square represents the intersection of hue, value, and chroma, denoted by a three-part code. Munsell’s system turned Vermilion into “5R4/10” — “5R” denoted the fifth step in the red scale (R as one of five color initials); “4” denoted the fourth step in the value scale, and “10” indicated that the color had the maximum chroma/strength. Vermilion’s complementary color, Viridian, was expressed as BG4/5.

Besides “Red”, “Yellow”, Green”, “Blue”, and “Purple” — Munsell’s five principal hues, which overturned the prevailing dogma of three “primary” colors (red/yellow/blue) — “Vermilion” and “Viridian” are the only two specific color names that appear in the Atlas. Indeed, Munsell’s motivation for creating his system lay largely in his animus against the mushrooming chromatic vocabulary impelled by the fin-de-siècle commercial expansion of colors employed in advertising, manufacturing, fashion, and home décor. “Baby blue, peacock blue, Nile green, apple green, lemon yellow, straw yellow, rose pink, heliotrope, royal purple, Magenta, Solferino, plum, and automobile”, protested Munsell, “are popular terms, conveying different ideas to different persons and utterly failing to define colors.” Munsell envisioned a system akin to musical notation, which conveyed a sound’s pitch, intensity, and duration “without dragging in loose allusions to the endlessly varying sounds of nature”.

#article #color theory #art #art history #history #the public domain review #public domain

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astorythatwritesitself · 1 year

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Re-intro time? Re-intro time

About Me & This Blog:

• Paine. Queer, 30, any pronouns. I follow back from dr-paine!

• Writing for 20+ years in some capacity

• Genre of choice is Fantasy. (High, low, slice of life or ungodly horror, mixed with sci-fi or the most classic Medieval sword and sorcery bullshit, I just need a touch, even if only implied, of magic.) I don't delve much into NSFW but it may come up; in any case: please only follow if you're 18+, and treat this blog with the mindset of 'creator chose not to use archive warnings'.

• I crave interaction, especially via tag/ask games - seriously. I reblog a lot of them. Do Not Hesitate. (And I always try to send an ask if you reblog any from me!)

• Hobbyist writer - I'm not aiming to be published, but I do want to improve my skills and eventually like... 'win a NaNo' in the sense of writing a complete, longform story one of these days. But also having fun is a priority, and ADHD + work is a cruel mistress, so I'll jump between WIPs on a whim, or just. Drop shit for months on end lol.

Vague List of Active Projects

While I have a ton of ideas, these are the ones that actually have like... any sort of substance to them, whether it's actual words or just a solid outline + desire to work on it. Each will eventually get a dedicated links/resource post, but for now, here's the basics!

Relentless As The Tide

(Mass Effect fics (roughly) following canon events/characters)

Adrian Shepard has been primed for heroism her entire life. Her first chance ended in a tragedy, one neither she nor the Alliance has ever properly owned up to. Saren's betrayal and the beacon's vision offer her the chance to atone for her failure at Akuze, and she'll do everything in her power to do so - even (and especially) if it kills her in the process.

Or so she believes - but uncovering the truth means looking for allies, and the more she gathers, the harder it becomes to believe that her death should - or can - be the end; and that perhaps heroism is just a means of distraction from confronting her own demons.

Unnamed Pokemon Project

(Loose follow through/retelling of Pokemon: Soul Silver)

Giovanni Rossi, former leader of the Viridian City pokemon gym, has confessed to heading the infamous Rocket organization, whose poaching and illegal trade has devestated the Kanto ecosystem for the past twenty years. However, he claims it was all for a good cause - just prior to founding Rocket, Giovanni had been part of a team trying to create artificial pokemon... and their most viable subject escaped. Rocket existed for the sake of tracking down and eventually overpowering this creature, but now... well, he wishes those in the Kanto and Johto regions the best of luck.

Following a break in at the New Bark Town lab, an assistant to Professor Elm - a reclusive young man named Linden - tracks down the suspect, only to find it's none other than Silver Rossi, Giovanni's own son. The boy claims he wants to take down the creature his father helped create and clear his own name from the scandal... and Linden has reasons of his own that make him want to see how things play out, even if it means he must shadow Silver's journey by embarking on one of his own.

Unnamed OC Project

(Original fantasy work)

In a world of faded magic, Elora Ryba cares little for talk of soon-to-come saviors or the sightings of dragons. No, she has other things on her mind - return to the town she was forced to leave over ten years ago, and steal its most precious treasure. And, ideally, marry her, as Elora promised that night she was forced to flee.

Which is why Elora's spent the past month searching for a priest corrupt enough to join a pirate's crew, but not corrupt (or worse, moral) enough to turn her in, and she thinks she's finally found one.

#writeblr #writeblr intro #hi i have a lot of emotions over lizards

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