#Ⅰ

[villainvirus]

diaLOG sillies

[y27d]

1ヶ月。付き合う前から一緒にいる時間が多かったから、まだこれだけ？！ってなるような、あっという間に感じるような。やまだと過ごす毎日がどうしようもないくらい愛おしくて、やまだのことが愛おしくて。毎日一緒にいてくれることが幸せで。1年前の自分に教えてあげたい。1年後はこんなにも幸せなんだよ、だから安心して毎日をすごしてね。って。「すき」って伝えたら「すき」って返ってくる。今は当然のように返ってくるけど、これがどんだ��すごいことなのか。どんだけ幸せなことなのか。今のこの幸せが、どんだけ素晴らしいことなのか。毎日、やまだへの感謝をわすれない。改めて、毎日ありがとう。これからも俺の隣で、俺の大好きなその笑顔いっぱい見せてね。早く会いたいね。だいすきです。やまだのだいちゃんより。

[l5ng]

退屈だった日がこんなにも輝いて見えるのは君が居るからだろう。

[trout2004]

About + Archive

Tag explanations under the cut

Ⅰ = Paintings & visual art

Ⅱ = Photography

Ⅲ = Textiles & fashion (i.e rugs, weaving, clothing)

Ⅳ = Sculptures, pottery, trinkets & misc items

Ⅴ = "From media" (i.e film, video games, television)

Ⅵ = Text, poetry, magazine clippings & collage art

Near & dear = Favourites

% = Tech, digital aestheticism, computing

If you see a post tagged wrong, shoot me an ask!

[seraphwires]

・BOYREViVED﹕✦ ⋯ when one ’ s gender feels like a dead boy that was revived , or as though their boyhood was once cold & dead , but has been revived by other xenogenders or any other means !

・GiRLREViVED﹕✦ ⋯ when one ’ s gender feels like a dead girl that was revived , or as though their girlhood was once cold & dead , but has been revived by other xenogenders or any other means !

╰╮ ✦ coined by The Eternal Maiden , Alouette ｡

requested by no one !

⋯ these are subgenders under @clubpenguincoins ’ genderrevived !

[actual-haise]

Lionheart

[yourdarlingness]

Somvisphere　(SOM-VEE-SFEER)

　·　requested by @puresel

a gender related to being a sleepy god in outerspace.

　·　Read my DNFI before following this blog!

Etymology

The "Som" comes from "Somnus" - from a Latin word, meaning "sleep."

The "Vi" comes from "Divine" - meaning of, from, or like God or a god.

Sphere - from the 7 layers of the atmosphere, specifically the Exosphere.

　special thanks to @/st4ratlz for the hands idea !

[thesiciliansiren]

crazy how the very first sin was a woman who ate

[ryugamori-manjou]

序盤のイメージ

[girlfox]

peeks my head in ,

[angelf4ced]

*clears throat* here ye, here ye! this here be a permanent interaction call. by liking this you're basically consenting for the lovely char to bother your muse(s) with a starter, some memes, or just random bullshit whenever.

[princeblack]

regulus black has been dead for one hundred and twenty-one years and the only voice he knows now is hers. it’s warm, wrapping around his soul and making him feel less alone; less of a memory and more of a person again. he’s still there, lingering, even a century after his death, having his life ripped away from him because of consumption.

what she didn’t know is he wasn’t your average dead man in any dead grave. or maybe she did know that, somewhere deep down. why else would he become her favorite? he felt her favoritism every time she leaned against his tombstone, talking about her days as if he were her friend and not the ghost of someone she would never know. his name is etched on the tombstone, but nothing more remains aside from the bust his mother had sculpted to commemorate her lost son. she had come to his grave to weep at it until consumption took her life as well, dwindling the numbers in the black family to almost nothing.

regulus had a life once, born as the son of a wealthy noble and raised strictly by way of his mother, given better education than most and learning complex science and math others didn’t have access to at a young age. he was familiar with the arts as well, writing and playing piano better than anyone in their town. he even proved to be adept at what was usually saved for the lower class, like caring for animals and livestock. not that his mother was a fan of him being friendly with the local farmers, saying it was beneath his father’s family and they had a reputation to uphold. besides that, there was danger to associating with the common folk because of what they were.

orion black was a successful businessman who amassed wealth through investments and commercial ventures, known even outside of their hometown for his fortune and contributions to various enterprises. orion wanted regulus to manage his estate and investments when he was old enough, although his mother was more worried about teaching him her own family’s ways, including inducting him into the family coven.

many still believed in witches, especially in such a rural area, and regulus’s family wasn’t safe from the persecution they’d face if anyone found out. it was a cult in a sense, regulus being brought up in the ways of the religion; worshiping and sacrificing to the the Horned One in order for their family to keep their powers. the old god was displeased when andromeda left the coven, withholding some of their powers for a time.

unluckily for regulus, this was when he fell ill, soon to meet an untimely fate. stricken with grief, walburga had done what magic she could, not enough to heal him but at least enough to resurrect him if all magical requirements were met.

she harnessed the power of a comet overhead, using its magic to reverse his death once it were to pass over again.

at least, this is how it was explained to regulus just before he died. he waited over a century after, sure that the spell had failed (and even if it didn’t, his loved ones were surely dead anyway).

that is, until he meets her.

she cares for his grave, scrubbing it clean and leaving flowers for him every week. she even gazes at his statue, talking to him as if he could talk back. regulus isn’t man anymore; only spirit, but even so he can see how beautiful she is and he knows she’s the most perfect human being to ever walk the earth. who else would care for someone they don’t know and keep his memory alive more than his family ever did?

one night she gifts him her aunt’s necklace, leaving it on his bust as an offering. he remembers her sweet words, explaining why she wanted him to have it and even murmuring that she wishes she could be with him. it’s then that he’s sure she can feel it, too– his spirit, and the way the two of them are drawn together, even with death and life separating them still.

his soul longs for her, wondering if the comet will pass by sometime before her life is over.

luckily, the night finally comes, and he can feel his awareness shift, being sucked below. once he was apart of the cemetery; apart of the breeze, just another spirit among many. but now he can feel his awareness being siphoned down, pulled into blackness, and then he’s there.

everything is dark, but he can feel his body. he’s almost not sure if this is real, but the weight of the ground is pressing down on him and it’s only because of magic that animates his body that he has the strength to claw his way from the dirt without suffocating. it takes some difficulty, struggling to reach the surface, but he eventually pushes through the ground, emerging from the soil and dragging himself out.

he can breathe, but there’s a hollow feeling in his chest, almost as if he doesn’t have to because he’s dead. dirt falls off of him as he stands on unsteady legs, almost overwhelmed by his surroundings in the overgrown graveyard. the breeze is something he hasn’t felt on his face in over a century, along with the way air rests in his lungs. the moon is shining down on him, round and full, illuminating his tombstone and the bust his mother had made of him just above it.

he sees her necklace there, glinting in the dark, and shaky fingers reach out to take it, pulling it off for him to hold. it’s significantly nicer than anything on him, his old vest covered in chunks of soil and torn and faded. even the sleeves of his shirt are ripped, even though they were once elegant and of the highest quality white fabric.

he can feel salem through the necklace, as if a pulse of her soul is within it, her beating heart in his hand as he struggles out of the graveyard. her home isn’t far, through the forest and on the edge of a rural neighborhood. he knows because he can sense her, almost as if they’re connected. his mother always said he was the most psychic of the witches in their coven, but now it feels even more true, because his mind leads him directly to the woman he loves.

he crosses her yard, reaching the front door. he looks like a phantom on her porch, his skin even paler than it was when he was alive, smeared in dirt and grime. his black hair is caked with it too, to the point he’s almost unrecognizable. whatever state he was resurrected to, he knows he isn’t fully human. everything feels muffled and his body is cold; not like he remembered having flesh to be.

he’s sure he would be burned at the stake if anyone were to see him, a warning his family had given him time and time again about their magic. but he opens salem’s door anyway, using supernatural strength to break the lock and open the front door. he can sense her in the living space, just a few feet away, but he isn’t prepared to meet her beautiful blue eyes when he does. if regulus had breath it would’ve been taken from him, his cold fingers tightening on the necklace as he holds it out. / @ghstdoll

[movielosophy]

Creation of the Gods Ⅰ | Block him

[deertism]

i love you problematic alters

i love you problematic fictive

i love you problematic factives

[seraphwires]

　┈　VELVETDECORATED﹕ a gender under the Genderdecorated system in which one ' s gender feels as if it was decorated in velvet , one ' s gender is related to velvet decorations , ++ // or one ' s gender being decorated in velvetgenders .

𓂃　†　coined by Writhe⠀⠀⠀ ╱ ⠀⠀⠀requested ┈ no one

[PT: Velvetdecorated: A gender under the Genderdecorated system (link) in which one's gender feels as if it was decorated in velvet, one's gender is related to velvet decorations, and/or one's gender being decorated in velvetgenders. /END PT]