#Mari and Cel

[kikosartsewer]

@tulipsempai Hosted a Hungergames type event and I submitted Cel into it Here's what the little dude got up to during it

Sky belongs to @running2reanimation The-Saviour belongs to @racoon-hybrid Name belongs to @12k4rman0va12 Bullet belongs to @blueberry-thebiggestdarksimp The Shadow Sovreign belongs to @xdruby1234 Eri belongs to @herikbrine Ella belongs to @ellathebirb Cyber belongs to @simplychestnut

[itsfarashi]

The beginnings of a Silent Hill comic that I want to do my darndest to finish, starting with a recap of the leave ending.

[cels-not-so-secret-love-affair]

snow (the marauders & co)

a/n: it’s december so i can finally post this!! the gang get to enjoy just a tiny bit of happiness together one pretty little snowy morning x

‘Rise and shine, fuckers!’, is not what Remus had expected to act as his alarm clock this morning, but here he is. A blur of blue pyjamas and blonde hair had barrelled into the boy’s dormitory alongside the wake up call, and once the vague haze of sleep has dissolved, Remus is able to recognise it as being-

‘Marlene!’, Sirius shrieks, clutching at his covers in an unsuccessful attempt at protecting his modesty. ‘What the hell!’

‘Bleeding Christ, Sirius, would you close your fucking curtains?’

Hurried, the drapes surrounding the bed opposite Remus’ slam shut, accompanied by a string of elaborate swear words.

‘I wouldn’t be in this situation if you hadn’t hurtled in unannounced!’, yell the curtains. ‘Honestly, why you girls are allowed into our rooms when we’re not allowed into yours is beyond me - it’s a total lack of respect for our privacy!’

‘Well I wouldn’t have come to wake you up if I’d known you slept in the nude, now would I!’ Marlene looks vaguely traumatised as she peeks out cautiously from behind her hands. ‘Lesbian’s worst nightmare,’ she mutters under her breath.

Yawning, Remus props himself up onto his elbows and shakes his hair out of his eyes.

‘What time is it?’

‘Six o’clock,’ Marlene replies promptly. With a grimace, he drags himself up into a sitting position, and tries valiantly to ignore the sharp twinge of pain that comes with it.

‘Why?’ is just about all he can muster up in response.

Marlene suddenly brightens up, a broad grin creeping onto her face.

‘Remus,’ she says, breathlessly, ‘it’s snowing.’

‘You’re joking,’ the curtains accuse.

‘I’m not, promise! Here, I’ll open the window.’

She marches across the room to undo the latch and Sirius sticks his head out to bear witness. It is, indeed, snowing - a great flurry of little fuzzy flakes, whirling and dancing, stark against the rich black of the morning sky. It’s beautiful, and wild, and, well, magic. It reminds Remus a little of his childhood, of Christmases with Hope. When he looks back from the window, Sirius’ expression mirrors Marlene’s, eyes alight.

‘Moony, my boy! Fetch a jacket, for we are about to have the greatest snowball fight in the history of Hogwarts! Oh, and wake Pete up, the old lump. He’ll be devastated if he misses this.’

Thus ensues a scramble to get ready to go out, with Marlene tapping her foot impatiently whilst Remus roots through the mess surrounding Sirius’ bed to find something suitable to clothe him in (‘You’re still the most unorganised person I’ve ever met, Padfoot’) and attempts to lug Peter out of bed (‘No, no, don’t go back to sleep… Peter? Peter!’). They meet James on the way out, who greets them with a cheery ‘morning lads!’, and the rest of the girls, who wonder what took them so long. Marlene goes to recount the story of Sirius’ sleepwear - or rather lack-thereof - but is quickly silenced by the subject of her saga, who tackles her to the floor in an atrociously ungentlemanly fashion. Once that debacle is sorted out, chiefly with a chiding from Lily, they all traipse out of the common room. It’s a relatively short journey on a usual day, but is this time made longer by an assortment of suppressed giggles, excited whispers and shoves to be quiet, won’t you?

When they finally make it out however, everyone is silent. What they saw out of the window earlier was just a fraction of the magic, Remus realises. The snow really is gorgeous. Remus looks up at it, watches it as it falls from the heavens, and thinks he could get lost in it. The warm golden glow from the castle they’ve left behind is reflected back to them by the smooth, thick sheets of brilliant white that have already settled on the grass, and it’s making things seem dreamy, like it’s all a pleasant memory he’s already reminiscing upon. Beside him, Lily has wrapped her arms around James’ waist and is gazing at the gentle swirling of the snow just like Remus is, simultaneously in love and in awe. Mary’s got flakes of it in her hair and in her eyelashes, looking like an angel, and Peter’s face is flushed with excitement and the cold, his warm breath visible in the icy air. Marlene looks like how he imagines her to have looked as a kid, all wide eyes and messy wisps of hair falling across her cheek. And Sirius is beside him, holding his hand, seeming perhaps the freest he ever has been, second only to when he’s flying. For just a moment, time is standing still for them. It’s like they’ll never have to do any growing up again.

Then, Sirius breaks the silence.

‘Boys versus girls, then?’

‘Oh, you’re on, Black!’ shouts Mary, and all hell breaks loose.

[highlifeboat]

Behold doodles. (click for quality)

[acmeoop]

Favorite Game Show “Love Disconnection” (1991)

[stormagedoom]

Happy Mar13Day! 🦑💚

[segastuffd]

Been a minute since I posted. Life, amirite?

Here's a rat who'd likely to scam you. For goodness sake don't shake her hand.

[btrinidad01]

Two cels from “Maris The Chojo” ザ・ 超女 スーパーギャル, aka "The Supergal"

Both cels are from this scene.

[passivelypurple]

Random thought on a RQG re listen,

Currently re-listening to 169 nice and the result of Hamid and Cel’s Knowledge Arcana checks, and getting the information about the spell Magic Jar, made me think about the Catalogue of the Trapped Dead, the book that the Eric Delano, and Mary and Gerry Keay are/ get bound into.

(Yes it’s sheets of skin and has their final moment written on, but…)

It made me think what if someone had used Magic Jar to do it, then I’ve no doubt quite a few of the fear entities could and would use the bodies, The Stranger, The Flesh and The Corruption are the ones I think probably get use out of them though.

But also, how would that work, or would it work at all?!? Because the description of Magic Jar that Alex gave in 169 said that you could take the soul out of a person’s body and put it in a jar, (or maybe a book???) then you would be able to put your soul inside that body. But would that work if the thing trying to do it, Didn’t have a soul?

[ciochinaflorin]

163 I 2024. LUMINA SAU PROSPERITATEA [Psalmul 97.11 I Geneza 26.12 I Geneza 26.1-3] 11 Iunie 2024

163 I 2024. LUMINA SAU PROSPERITATEA I Podcast I Pasaje Biblice : Psalmul 97 : 11 I Geneza 26 : 12 I Geneza 26 : 1 – 3 I Meditaţii din Cuvânt I Cezareea I Reşiţa I 11 Iunie 2024 I Lumina sau Prosperitatea. În Vechiul Testament un sens figurat al cuvântului „lumină” este cel de prosperitate. Prosperitatea era promisă omului neprihănit, adică omului drept din punct de vedere etic și al Legii lui…

[wolf-innsheepsclothing]

Wolf deadpanned her completely. No, he was not secretly a knitter. How absurd. He had his own hobbies, of course, but not knitting. He fixed things, whatever form they took. Anything with a mechanism was his favourite. Watches, clocks, locks, anything like that which he could reduce to simple components. Screw, bolts, cogs, drives... they made sense to him. They followed simple rules.

Bah! Besides, security never got quiet. The Inn might not be as busy, but there were lots of tourists coming to gawp at the place! And among those tourists there was always the risk of someone who wished to do them harm, trying to blend in.

The moment ones guard dropped, that was when you failed at your duty.

Luckily, she looked suitably embarrassed by her own suggestion. "I leave the knitting to knitting club. Let us lower on three-" He counted them down again, ready to set down the large crate.

@boointhenight

Idle Hands - Scare Wolf

[dreamingawayyour1ife]

About me ౨ৎ

Hi! My name is Cecilia, I’m 18, Gemini sun and moon and rising (I know)

I post various content (moodboards, memes, fashion…etc) all about girlhood and my thoughts and feelings.

P.S every meme I post here is made by me, pls give me credit if you post it on any platform

hobbies ♡

• I love reading books and novels, mostly classics and fantasy.

• I like drawing in my sketchbook but I rarely paint (I’m starting to learn)

• A beginner guitarist

• I love playing badminton but I’m not really good at it

Music ♡

Lana del Rey, Taylor Swift, and Hozier are my holy trinity

I also listen to Fiona Apple and Bjork, also Melanie Martinez and Mitski

Films ♡

I love love love Sophia Coppola's films, my fav are the virgin suicides + marie antoinette

Also Greta Gerwig and Christiphor Nolan, with little women and intersteller.

Speak and the perks of being a wallflower are my fav coming of age movies def recommend.

Socials ♡

feel free to talk to me at anytime (unless you’re an old creep then pls block me) ✿ ۪⋆

[cels-not-so-secret-love-affair]

o mary of mine (marylily)

a/n: irish catholic lily evans! and playing about with a sapphic angle for her. i’m neither irish nor catholic, but i am gay as hell, so hopefully that pulls through for me. very slight implied nsfw near the end. lots of christianity.

The fact that this is not the Mary Lily wants to be kneeling before most right now is precisely why she’s doing it.

It’s quiet in the cathedral. An awful, echoey, hollow quiet that reflects its nothingness back onto itself into infinity like a great big hall of silent mirrors. The sort of quiet that makes your head scream and your muscles tense because it feels like nowhere should ever or could ever be so deathly empty. It’s cold too. The tips of Lily’s fingers are almost freezing off. She tries to warm them by clasping her hands together tighter in prayer, but to no avail. Maybe never quite being able to rid the prickly chill from her bones is just God’s will. She keeps her eyes firmly shut and attempts desperately to ignore the impending sense of nausea brewing stormily in her stomach.

Everything’s just right. She’s confident about this - she could do this in her sleep, in death, even if she were ninety odd with a memory threatening to fail her. It’s ingrained in her bones by now, whether she likes it or not. But everything is also wholly, wholly wrong. Her head is bowed like it ought to be, but it’s not really in reverence. More because she can’t seem to bring herself to look her Blessed Virgin in the eyes when she’s like this. It’s strange. She always used to feel comforted by Mary. When she was very little she used to call her mammy. Mother. Something about such a beautifully holy woman had always resonated with her, beyond the many boring hours spent kicking her feet in mass and yawning her way through the hymns. In hindsight, she supposes bitterly, that was probably just another fucking warning sign. The comfort she used to bring Lily is absent now though, here in the cold and the quiet. The statue in front of her is just that, a statue. Lifeless and unfeeling and dead in the way that only things that have never quite been alive can be.

Her mind wanders. She doesn’t mean it to. She means to be disciplined. She means to pray properly and perfectly like she always has and ask God to guide her, or else simply do away with the whole wretched business and let her just return to how everything was before, before she’d let herself become sullied by feelings of all fucking things. But the brain is a traitorous bastard. And it is cold, and it is quiet, and not for the first time since Lily met her the girl proves to be far greater than her eponym. Mary. She slips smirking into Lily’s thoughts with alarming ease, the ghost of her touch sending shivers down her spine and electrifying every cell in her body. Images of her shift and swirl. At first they are innocent and true, memories of her unaltered by fantasy. The softness of her skin, her glossy brown ringlets, the warmth and unapologetic vivacity of her laugh ringing out like church bells across the morning dew. One moment she is speaking animatedly and bright-eyed about something she’s read in a magazine, the next, applying lip gloss before her compact. It’s that one that tips it. Suddenly, Lily’s mind swoops viciously into the realm of imagination, and against her will Mary is looking directly at her, tilting her head, advancing towards her. Her lips are pretty and plump and perfect and Lily wants nothing more than to try, to taste, to touch, to take. It’s no time at all before figmental fingers are feeling their way down between her thighs, and she can practically hear Mary’s sweetly melodic voice low and breathy in her ear, and the sensations are all impossibly real, and magical, and heady, and everything begins to edge terrifyingly into overwhelm and-

Lily counts three steps from the cathedral door before she is sick in the grass.

[highlifeboat]

Did a bunch of colour pallet doodles

enjoy (Click for full/quality)

[goodevilgirlintentions-blog]

Reușisem! I am bossy girl now! Miss Independent ( Ne-Yo). Era o cina cu asociații și potențialii clienți. Trebuia sa strălucesc, sa fiu cea mai bună... ( cu ochii în tavan, zâmbesc, aproape ca îmi dau lacrimile de fericire când ma gândesc cât de mult am muncit, și în sfârșit îmi trăiesc visul ). Ma pregătesc pentru seara vieții mele. Imbrac o rochie lunga mulata cu spatele gol, îmi las parul lung și negru să-l acopere, ce-mi ajunge în dreptul coapselor, care dintr-o data devin fierbinți; oftez când starea de excitare ma cuprinde, nu aveam timp pentru asta, am și uitat cum se simte); un ruj roșu aprins, puțin sclipici, un lantisor finut, pantofi rosii, câteva pufuri de parfum și sunt pregătită.

Urc în mașina, eram agitată, nu înțelegeam de ce, emoții nu aveam, excitată puțin (corpul simțea ca o să fie o noapte de neuitat). Pornesc muzica și strabat străzile capitalei cu zâmbetul pe buze .Ajung la locatie. Sunt intampinata de colegii mei cu un pahar de șampanie, îmbrățișări calde și complimentele care m-au f��cut ușor sa rosesc. Port conversații cu fiecare, pana când un parfum cunoscut se face simțit în încăpere. Ma blochez pentru o secunda, știam acel miros, îmi invadase mintea, ma cucerise.N u ma întorc, ma scuz și ma indrept către baie. Ma privesc în oglinda, nu se putea să fie el...cel care doar cu o privirea ma topea, îmi era dor de el, îmi era dor de buzele lui mari și carnoase, de mangaieri, de vocea lui groasa și perfectă. Am fost împreuna ceva timp, dar din cauza joburilor, a trebuit sa rupem legătura, plecând fiecare în alta țara pentru o mai buna formare profesională. Trecusera 5 ani de ani, dar încă țineam la el. Imi revin din șoc și ma întorc sa intampin invitații.

- Maia, te căutam, vino sa ți-l prezit pe Dl. R. Zâmbesc și îmi urmez colegul, la auzul numelui, simt un fior pe spate.

- Dl. R, ea este Domnișoara Maia, cea mai bună în domeniu.

(Dl. G) Rămân blocat când o văd. Nu ma așteptam să fie ea. Știam ca o să lucrez cu o domnișoara Maia, dar nu tocmai ea. O admir din cap pana în picioare, la fel de strălucitoare, cum sunt un iubitor al sexului, imediat îmi apar imaginile cu noi doi in așternuturi, iubindu-ne..si nostalgie, nu credeam ca o s-o mai revăd vreodată.

- Încântat de cunoștința Maia, eu sunt R.

- Asemenea. Imi ia mana și o saruta, privindu-ma în ochi. Simt cum obrajii îmi iau foc, palmele îmi transpira, iar vocea din capul meu îmi spunea să mă controlez, urmat de un "sex sălbatic în noaptea asta, iuhuu, puțina adrenalina".

Mai facem schimb de câteva cuvinte, ca și cum ne întâlnim pentru prima data. Mai cunosc câteva persoane și ne așezam la masa. Ii fac semn prietenei mele să ne aseze lângă mine, dar nu apuca, G i-o ia înainte.

- Se poate să mă așez eu aici? Aș vrea să-i arat Maiei câteva idei pentru proiect.

- Sigur ca da.

Ma uit la ea cum pleacă de lângă mine cu ochi de cățeluș, mai ca implorand-o să se întoarcă. Dar, fără speranțe.

- Mi-a fost dor de tine! Îmi șoptește la ureche.

Nu ma uit la el, nu-i răspund, doar zâmbesc...Ciocnim un pahar în cinstea noastră, a echipei, ma ridic pentru a spune câteva cuvinte și a le multumii pentru ca au acceptat invitația la cina.

Iar el, obraznic cum îl știu ‘din greșeala’, a prins momentul pentru a-mi atinge corpul, deja agitat, excitat, datorita lui..

((part 1))

[useless-catalanfacts]

Hehehe.... Here's a post I think you people will like.

A while ago, I was asked about Catalan swear words. I answered it and I explained how very often we say "I shit on ..." and gave some examples. You can find that post here:

Yesterday, someone in Catalan Twitter tweeted asking what are your favourite swearings, and I think you might like to hear what people answered. So here it goes!

Així plogués tant, que els ànecs arribessin a mossegar els collons de Déu! = This way may it rain so much that ducks could reach to bite God's bollocks.

Així baixi una olla del cel, amb el cap de Déu per tapadora! = This way may a cooking pot fall from Heaven/sky with God's head as the lid!

Cagum tots los sants posats en un bocoi amb Déu per tap! = I shit on all the saints placed inside a hogdhead (large cask barrel) with God as the lid!

Cagum la veta del capdavall de la cama dreta de les calces del pagès que va plantar la primera fava que va menjar l'ase que va dur la Mare de Déu a Egipte! = I shit on the ribbon of the lowest part of the right leg of the trousers of the farmer who planted the first bean that was eaten by the donkey that took the Virgin Mary to Egypt!

Cagum Sant Hilari i tots els sants del calendari, i si em deixés algun per dir, me cagum la mare que el va parir. = I shit on Saint Hilarius and all the saints on the calendar; and if I had missed saying any of them, I shit on the mother that gave birth to them. (But in Catalan it rhymes).

Cagum Déu i el que portava la creu, i el que la va fer que era fuster = I shit on God and the guy who carried the cross, and the guy who made it who was a carpenter (in Catalan it rhymes) or Cagum Déu, la creu i el fuster que la feu = I shit on God, the cross, and the carpenter who made it (also rhymes).

Em cago en els quatre puntals que aguanten la cagadora de Déu = I shit on the four stakes that hold up God's shitting hole. (Maaaany people have said this one or variations of it)

Em cago en la puta que va arribar a parir el paleta que va fer les quatre pilastres que aguantaven la cagadora de Déu i tots els sants = I shit on the whore who reached the point of giving birth to the bricklayer who built the four pilars what held up the shitting hole of God and all the saints.

Cagum Sant Roc, el gos i la mare que els va parir tots dos = I shit on Saint Roch, the dog, and the mother who gave birth to both.

Me cago en la tita del dimoni porc = I shit on the pig demon's dick.

Cago'n la sang d'un banc i el fetge d'una cadira coixa = I shit on a bench's blood and a lame chair's liver.

Em cago en els claus dels peus de Cristu crucificat = I shit on the screws/nails on crucified Christ's feet.

Em cago en l'ou que va fer la gallina que va servir per fer el caldo de la Mare de Déu quan era partera = I shit on egg that was laid by the chicken that was used to make the broth for the Virgin Mary when she had just given birth.

Me cagum Satanàs clavat dalt d'un cirerer = I shit on Satan nailed to the top of a cherry tree.

Mal davallés el secretari de Déu, vestit de torero = Wouldn't God's secretary come down, dressed as a bullfighter.

What swearings do you say when something goes wrong? In my house, the most common one is a simple one: collons de mico (monkey bollocks).