#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

[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]

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.

[hauntedrose555]

[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.

[gothbot-online]

the Mari Lwyd 🎄

[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…

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

play that funky music (the marauders & co)

a/n: james potter the icon that you are. i seem to recall this being based on a tiktok i was sent, which i can’t for the life of me find. i’ll keep looking, but if you can remember seeing a tiktok that specifically had james singing this song and can pass it my way, i will be forever in your debt.

It’s a late night in the Gryffindor common room. Remus is settled comfortably in his usual armchair by the record player, smiling fondly at his friends. Both the boys and the girls have braved detention to blast their music. The pick of the night is funk, and a few swigs of fire whiskey seem to have loosened everyone up considerably. They’ve pushed the stout wooden coffee table aside too, to make room for an impromptu dance party, and everyone’s up and moving.

Lily grins as she sways from side to side, winking at Mary who’s dancing in a way that Remus is sure would be deemed wildly inappropriate anywhere outside of right here right now, and having the time of her life. Marlene has broken out the dad dancing, and is throwing finger guns out left, right and centre. Sirius looks gorgeous as always (honestly, did he ever look anything less?). But James, well, James is in his element. It’s as if the bass line is his own creation. As if he was made in the same breath as the music, brought alive by the same clever hands. He shimmies and rolls his hips like it’s the only thing that matters in the world.

The music picks up, transitioning into a clap-your-hands style bridge. Eyes alight with mirth, James whips around to catch Remus’ eye, like he’s got a joke in mind. Then, along with the drum fill, he throws out a hand, pointing at Remus just in time to mouth the lyrics through his grin.

Play that funky music, white boy

Play that funky music right

Play that funky music, white boy

Lay down the boogie and play that funky music ‘til you die

Remus scoffs, laughing at his ludicrousness. But then James has caught his hand, and is yanking him up onto his feet.

‘No. No, Prongs, I’ve told you I absolutely do not dance.’

‘Oh, give over, Moony, this is your anthem!’

So now, against all protesting, Remus John Lupin is up in the Gryffindor common room, dancing. He’s too gangly and uncoordinated to make it look any good, but it is, surprisingly, rather fun. And of course, James’ energy is electric. They didn’t call him the life of the party for nothing. He looks bloody ecstatic that he’s persuaded his favourite DJ into joining him on the dance floor, and starts busting out his moves with double the enthusiasm. Behind him, Lily is whooping and clapping, and Mary is smiling wide and true like this is the happiest she’s ever been. Even Peter is delighted. Then, a hand around his waist.

‘Now, how come you never dance when I ask?’, Sirius asks him.

‘Your competition is oddly persuasive.’

‘I see how it is. You’re playing favourites. Always knew you had a secret soft spot for James.’

Remus laughs again, louder this time, and relishes in the gorgeous canine grin it draws out of Sirius.

‘Just dance with me, love.’

[highlifeboat]

Did a bunch of colour pallet doodles

enjoy (Click for full/quality)

[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

[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).

[dawkacynizmu]

poniedziałek 23.09

۶ৎ podsumowanie dnia

zjedzone — 1150 kcal

hej

jechałam dziś do szkoły z ojcem chrzestnym, mogłam pospać dłużej, wstałam około 7:40 choć planowałam później będąc absolutnie pewna że ten się spóźni i nie przyjedzie na umówiona 9 XD ale był punktualnie. miałam nie jeść rano i wziąć coś do szkoły ale byłam głodna więc zrobiłam sobie owsiankę, przed tym oczywiście siemię lniane. jak spojrzałam w lustro rano to zobaczyłam że mam przerażająco spuchnięta powiekę 😵 zrobił mi się podskórny pryszcz pod brwią, posmarowałam go wczoraj maścią ichtiolowa (która wyciąga) i kiedy pokazała się biała główka to wcisnęłam, koleżanka odrodził się jednak przez noc ze zdwojoną siłą. nie mając pomysłu co zrobic z tą powieka wrzuciłam do zamrażarki łyżkę, potem taką zimna przyłożyłam do oka. niewiele to dało, poszłam z taką spuchniętą do szkoły jakby mi ktoś przyjebał XD ale w ciągu dnia się już zmniejszyło. zaczęłam dwoma godzinami w-f — na pierwszej siatkówka, na region drugiej co chcemy, mieliśmy do wyboru paletki, koszykówkę lub spacer na dworze wokół boiska oczywiście że wybrałam to ostatnie. chodziłam z kolegą i zapytałam czy robi coś po szkole w środę, potrzebuję towarzystwa na lumpach. chcę rozejrzeć się za jakimś fajnym jesiennym swetrem, chociaż nie wiem czy kupię, na razie tylko popatrzę. najwyżej ktoś mi sprzątnie sprzed nosa. trochę nie chcę szastać kasa (swetry to taka jedna z droższych rzeczy w lumpach bo są ciężkie) , ale jak znajdę jakiś zajebisty który zwali mnie z nóg to kupię. bardzo podobają mi się takie z minimalistycznymi nadrukami np widziałam dziewczynę w takim całym szarym z małym czarnym nadrukiem trzymających się za ręce misiów, był cudowny. ale jakimś ładnym w paski też nie pogardzę.

trochę źle się czułam, nie wzięłam środków przeczyszczających po napadzie. nie odezwał się żaden głos rozsądku po prostu stwierdziłam "zeżarłas to cierp) cały dzień ten brzuch mnie pobolewał, lekko mdliło. jeszcze jak jechałam z chrzestnym to e jegw samochodzie coś się zepsuło i za każdym razem gdy skręcał ulatniał się zapach paliwa, myślałam że mu zarzygam całe auto, musiałam wystawić łeb przez okno niczym pies. zmartwiło mnie także z jaką częstotliwością biorę ten dulcobis i że prawie nie pamiętam kiedy ostatnio załatwiałam się naturalnie, dziś udało mi się bez niego na szczęście. do szkoły wzięłam sobie jedynie brzoskwinie, po powrocie na obiad zjadłam warzywa na patelnie, na kolację 3 godziny później dwie grzanki z mozzarellą i trochę warzyw, średnie zdjęcie ik (wow foodbok mi wyszedł) do tego jeszcze jabłko bo te z mojego ogródka są wybitne w smaku i mam zamiar się nimi obżerać codziennie.

uczyłam się dużo, jeszcze właściwie nie skończyłam. na razie zrobiłam geografie, fizykę, przede mną matematyka, polski (kartkówka z założeń pozytywizmu) francuski (zajebiście długi tekst na pamięć + zaległa kartkówka) i to mam nadzieję tyle...mam zamiar wyrobić się z tym w godzinę nie więcej bo muszę napisać 800 słów opowiadania (taki prywatny cel) i jeszcze trening zrobić. a i suzanne marie wstawiła filmik o nicovado avocado (nie pamiętam jak się pisze jego imię) który chciałabym obejrzeć. całe szczęście nie czuję się senna. BOZE JESZCZE WŁOSY UMYĆ KURWA-

tak, uczę się do filmików imitujacych naukę w hogwarcie.

także na razie miłego wieczoru, pierwszego jesiennego 🩷🍂