#Mount Berry

[zephyrmars]

Rameer/Berries Ship Fanart

This is a ship name I made for Rameer and I find the name cute. Here's the ship name list I made for all the Mount Rageons ships with a new update.

[capiolumen]

Fall-Autumn Musings 2022 iPhoneXR Hipstamatic Photography Original Photographers Photographers On Tumblr Lowy Lens, Mount Royal Film, No Flash

[themorganberry]

So excited to be voicing the lead in ‘Dead Mount Death Play!’

~ Check it out at @crunchyroll !!

[berryblu-ocs]

Just clicked today how much sense it made for someone in the Foxglove clan to have been sent to deal with Hellian citizens illegally living in the main dimension

Like, law enforcement sector with fire related habilities and immunities + combat training? That's exactly the guys you want to capture a "sun" guardian, how in the world did I set that up on a whim????

[hepdenerose]

Threads (A Summer Forage in Eaves Wood)

The sudden appearance of brightness on a late July Friday afternoon prompted another forage.  On the familiar slog up to Heptonstall Road, brambles already ripened.  Eschewing them as polluted, we continued up to find the ridge slopes dominated by bracken and heather, rock-hard apples and only a smattering of bilberry shrubs.  We past a climber limbering up at Hell Hole Rocks onto the twisting…

[forlix]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.2k / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・chan x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, berry being the perfect girl she is. inspired by these bubble messages and @cosmic-railwayxo's treachery. (love u deni)

𝟬𝟲:𝟯𝟲 — “Where’s my baby, hm?”

This is the question on Chan’s lips the moment he lets go of the bedroom door, closed with agonizing caution as to not wake the figure still curled up under the duvet inside.

It’s early. Early enough so the walls are colored a rich beige by new rays of sunlight, so his footsteps are the only sound reverberating around the hallways when he commences his search. Early enough to evidence how he was only bestowed a few hours of sleep before waking up with a budding headache and leaden eyelids.

But he doesn’t mind the lack of rest, not this time. Not when there’s a wad of love with a freckled snout and floppy ears under the same roof for the first time in too long.

“Berry?” Chan calls, his voice tattered and low, like sandpaper. He rakes his eyes over the spots he remembers to be her favorite. Maybe they’ve changed since he was last home. Maybe everything has changed since he was last home.

The thought causes a familiar pang to go off within him, poignant and powerful, but the quiet scuffle of paws against hardwood takes the edge off the guilt straightaway.

Chan finds the beginnings of a smile on his lips before she even rounds the corner, and when she does, well. His grin might as well split his face down the middle. He’s on his knees in seconds, outstretched hands rediscovering home in the puppy’s silky fur as she clambers onto him with blown pupils and excited pants.

His adoring coos of her name falter into muted laughter, which then fragments into a sob. His vision narrows to his precious girl and then starts to blur. When Berry climbs up to give his cheek a few happy licks, she’s fascinated by its saltiness.

You emerge from the bedroom a little over an hour later. Sleeping is hard enough when you’re jetlagged, and even harder when there’s only mattress where you remember Chan’s warm solidity to be. The fabric of Chan’s hoodie suppresses your vocalization of his name as you ungracefully pull it over your torso, still struggling to rouse your body from sleep.

Your beckon produces no response. You wrap a hand around the nearest door frame and peek your head into the living room, a little more alert now.

“Chan? Baby?”

You feel silly. How many visits has it been for you to still feel this nervous, wandering around Chan’s family home? Yet you undoubtedly are, whether because of your absentee boyfriend or that his whole family is a few walls away. You pad through the silent abode with mounting trepidation and intense care to not make any more sound than necessary.

Then you reach the family room and instantly come to a standstill, hands drifting to your sides, features deliquescing to a soft smile. 

Lying on the nearest couch is your boyfriend, head propped up on top of his elbow, his fluttering lashes and gently oscillating shoulders indicating that he’s asleep. You can’t see his face below his eyes, as he has his nose nuzzled into the Cavalier spaniel resting securely in his arms, snoring tacitly into his sleeve, slumbering as deeply as her human companion.

You’ve been stumbling upon Chan sleeping in unexpected places for the better part of two years now, but you still liquefy every time as if it’s the first. These are the moments, you’ve come to realize, when you can care for him in ways he would never let you while conscious: a lift of his laptop off his thighs, a brush of your lips against his hairline, a cardigan draped lightly over his back. These are the moments when you understand in full how far you’ve come together, for him to trust you with his exhaustion with such transparency, to be so vulnerable as to leave you with memories of him that he’ll never have.

Despite your prolonged experience, it’s hard to describe what exactly you’re feeling in this moment. The mere mention of Berry has always dissipated the shadows that veil his face, has always chased off the burdens that cling to his spine. How do you put it into words, seeing your happiness at his happiest?

It suddenly occurs to you that the window beside them is cracked open. That, and you spotted extra quilts in the top shelf of Chan’s closet last night.

Chan’s eyelids lift when he feels the gentle weight of a blanket fall upon his body; so do the corners of his lips, when the culprit materializes before him. Sitting on the edge of the couch, a hand hovering over his frame, face creased into a flinch.

“Sorry,” you whisper, closing the distance between your fingers and the curve of his neck. The pad of your thumb moves over his cheekbone like a willow branch skimming water. “I didn’t think that would wake you up.”

Both of you up, you mentally amend, seeing as Berry has noticed your presence and is wagging her tail with enough vigor for it to thump against Chan’s chest. He lets her wriggle out of his arms and into yours; you emit a noise of glee and gather her into you.

If only you had seen the expression he wears then, watching your eyes scrunch closed at the frenzied kisses she presses to your face. His first love and his very last.

“Don’t apologize,” he answers. “I’m the one who should be sorry for leaving you in bed, I just…”

His voice trails off, but he knows by the softness in your irises when they meet his that you already know.

You move like clockwork. Chan presses up into the back of the couch, the quilt’s edge lifted in wordless invitation. It is your chest that Berry burrows into this time, the top of her head sliding into the space between your chin and the sofa’s cushion. It is Chan’s chest that you’re folded into, the arms around your waist like the coziest of cabins in a sun-spattered wood. It is the back of your neck that he nuzzles his nose into, but not before he litters gossamer kisses across the expanse of skin, as if printing the notes to a lullaby he knows well.

Everything is warm, so warm, so right, and jetlag starts to feel like a distant trouble.

You open your mouth while teetering on the cusp of a dream.

“Baby?” 

He hums into you, listening.

“Always be happy, okay?”

You don’t notice the solitary tear that traverses the bridge of his nose, lands in the cotton of your hood, and dyes the bunched-up fabric a few shades darker. You don’t notice how his embrace around you tightens marginally, like how one’s eyes can’t help but find their dearest possession when the building’s on fire.

“Okay,” he whispers, and kisses your nape once more. Your and Chan’s eyes close together. Berry licks your chin again, then follows suit.

(Another hour later, Chan’s parents walk into the family room. They decide to go out to breakfast for fear of making too much noise in the kitchen, Chan’s mother blotting away tears as she ducks into shotgun, Chan’s father laughing at her sentimentality while blinking back his own.

Another few hours later, Hannah takes maybe fifty-some photographs of the triad of unmoving heaps occupying their couch. Then she grumbles at Berry for being dead asleep at eleven in the morning: “Those two arrived here from across the world yesterday. What’s your excuse?”)

🔖 (send an ask or reply to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support.

[oofiesims]

Kayliana Berry at the Festival of Lights 

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey! I love your Cregan fics💕 is it okay if i ask for another fluff Cregan fic?👉👈 i just can't get enough of Cregan fluff

Poison Berries

Who would win? 100 tongues slandering the lady of Winterfell or 1 Cregan Stark?

Cregan Stark x Reader | 700< | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, insecurities, implied body shaming, protective!cregan, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: this is totally me projecting cos my sis and i got body shamed today. it be ur own family i swear

"Where is my wife?" is the first thing Lord Stark says when he returns from his errands. He grunts as he dismounts his horse, eyes fixed upon the stable boy who takes his horse by the reins.

He grunts again at the lack of response and explains, "she told me she would be here when I returned."

The boy shrugs, "I don't know, milord. 've not seen milady all day."

He huffs and nods. He decides to simply look for you in your shared chambers, thinking you would probably be there. Finding your quarters empty, he heads to the library, then the solar, the kitchen, and soon- "where is my wife?!" is heard and repeated all across Winterfell.

Someone tells him you went into the woods to forage, and so naturally, he asks who you left with. He receives no name, and quickly it dawns you had left the safety of stronghold alone. His heart races. How long have you been out? By the old gods, how long have you been out?

Cregan mounts his horse at once and patrols the land. He screams your name out so loudly it disrupts the surrounding wildlife.

He snaps when he hears a response. He is unmistaken; that was your voice calling out his name. Quickly, he answers your call and rides toward you. He nearly leaps from his horse when he spots you, face crestfallen, hair frosty.

He calls your name again, much softer now, voice laced in worry. He captures your cheeks in his hands, hissing when he feels it's unnatural coolness, "are you well?"

You hold a guilty expression as he moves to rub your shoulders.

"Why have you left unaccompanied?" Cregan huffs hotly, his breath condensing with the air, "has something happened?"

"Cregan-" you place your hands on his chest. He stops rubbing your arms.

He watches how you lower your gaze. His face hardens with concern, "my love, speak to me."

You look up at him, eyes now pinkish and teary.

His jaw clenches. He huffs through his nostrils.

"I overheard... ..."

Cregan's expression softens. He clutches your cheeks, "speak," he rubs your skin with his thumbs, "I implore you to speak."

Your sigh turns to fog. You shrug, "they do not think I... I am a true Northern bride."

"True?" he snaps, "you are a Northern bride," he brushes your hair back, "I am Northern and you are my bride."

Your tears become too heavy.

Cregan's stomach churns as he wipes your tears. He hushes you and mutters under his breath, "there can be no truer bride than that of the Lord of Winterfell's."

"I fare horribly in the cold."

"You will grow accustomed to it."

"I do not know how to start a fire."

"Then I shall teach you, if you must lear-"

"But I do not look the part!"

Cregan's face drops.

Your tears begin to turn to frost. Your voice is small, "I do not look like the other ladies. I do not wear the furs well, I do not look shapely... I feel beastly. I was not forged by steel as you are, husband."

He rubs your cheeks, determined to warm you, "and who would slander my wife? Force her to feast on lies?"

You scoff and lower your gaze

"Would that you need be forged by steel-"

You shake your head, "it does not matter."

"It matters greatly," he releases your cheeks, "I will have them answer to their accusations," he clenches his fists, "and we shall see how their furs suit them when they've wet them."

You look up at Cregan, brows furrowing at the sight of his increasing fury.

"I would have them grovel," he mutters, "and sentence them to the Wall if they do not-"

You lips part, "Cregan-"

"Do they believe I would not do that much for the lady of mine own house? My lady?"

"Cregan," you rub the collar of his cloak.

He examines you. A line forms between his brows as he reaches for your wrist.

You look at each other for a moment. His thumb rubs circles on your skin. You raise your brows, "I... I picked a few berries for you," you turn to the basket that laid forgotten on the ground.

His gaze shifts to it.

"Though, I must admit... I am uncertain if they are edible."

He chuckles and takes your hand in his. He kisses your knuckles.

You offer him a soft smile.

The man hums, "perhaps we shall see by feeding them to the slanderers."

You whip your head back, "Cregan."

"A jest... a jest, my lady."

[kaislashes]

You should be scared of him, should be running for your life. Everyone else has, people don’t dare walk into these parts of the forest because of him. You’ve heard the stories, the ones that foretold the beast who lurks in the forest, who howls at the moon. You were told of the ones who went, in search of berries and to hunt for meat but never came back.

So you don’t know why your curiosity won, why you’re sneaking out of your window at 2:00AM on a frigid winter night. You make sure to close the window behind you as your feet hit the ground and the snow crunches under your boots. You swiftly make your way through the village towards the wooded area 20 minutes away.

Once you reach the tree lines you look back, almost hoping someone will stop you. No one is awake at this time so you proceed forward with a deep breath. It seems like hours of wandering aimlessly through before you hear it. Snow and twigs crunching behind you. You whip around and see two yellow eyes staring at you.

You start to run, you should’ve listened. You’re dodging through the trees, looking for an exist but you know you’re lost. Everything looks the same, your lungs are starting to hurt and you feel the beast at your feet. You veer off to the left an CRASH-

A root caught your foot and tears are streaming down your face. You yelp as the beast is now on top of you, drool dripping from his mouth. You stare at it helpless, it’s a massive wolf, something you didn’t see before.

The beast uses its mouth to rip your pants off and you’re scared stiff, you don’t know what to do. You feel yourself being mounted, something poking beneath your thighs. You try to buck him off but it’s no use. You scream out as you feel it penetrate you in one swift thrust.

The beast desperately keeps pushing inside your warm heat, teeth bared against your throat. You feel disgusted with yourself as you start to feel your stomach start to pull, feel yourself getting wetter as a moan slips. The beast doesn’t seem to mind as he’s able to slip deeper, hitting your cervix repeatedly.

You feel yourself explode around him and the sensation makes you black out. You awake to an intense pressure in your lower regions and you look down noticing you’re still connected to what was a beast. You try to pull away and hear a pained grunt.

“Don’t move, it’ll hurt us both. You’ve taken my knot so well.” You hear from a man, who is no longer a beast. You feel him rub his hand along your bloated stomach.

[frogchiro]

Silver fox! Makarov lurking outside the farm for kitty! Reader and tries to mount her at any chance he gets after courting (leaving small dead animals, some pelts he ‘found’, pretty flowers, yummy berries, anything for her) her, although she thinks he was simply being nice until he tries to knot her whenever those brutish guard dogs aren’t in sight. :’)

He definitely thinks his knot will fit in her far more better compared to others.

He was feeling romantical😭

And Vladimir's trying so so hard, really! He brings you dead animals, pelts, blankets and pillows he 'found' on someone's laundry line, he even brings you pretty forest flowers because it makes his tail wag and his sharp teeth show in a delighted smirk when he sees the pretty kitty girl swooning and fawning over his gifts!

And when you're distracted by touching and feeling the soft pelts or fawning over the pretty flowers he's cosying up to you, rubbing up against you to try and mark you with his scent so those pesky brutes back at the farm know who exactly got you. He'd nudge his head against you and try to nip on your bare shoulders before moving to your back to lick affectionally at your scruff and down the lucious, soft fur on your back before he'll finally try to get all nice and close to your back to mount you but you're...still distracted?

Makarov would let out a annoyed chuff as he noticed you're still eating those sweet berries he brought you as you purr in delight that the large male fox brought you all those gifts!

But he wants to mate with you so badly :(( Vladimir thinks that he's a much better option than those nasty dogs who just shove their cocks and knots inside you without abandon, treat you so roughly like some bitch but you're much smaller than them! More delicate! You're soft all over, your full curves and hips just begging to be worshipped and Makarov is convinced that hes the one to provide for you <3 Not to mention that he'd be a far better mate because you'd never have to 'work' again, you just lay back in his luxurious den, laid out on soft blankets and pelts and let him provide for you and fill you up with his kits <33

[youghvaudough]

I will forever appreciate a theme in my fictional stories, & that’s exactly what Wind Breaker (by Nii Satoru) has, so, I present:

Wind Breaker characters have a theme to their names.. a thread:

Bōfūrin / 防風鈴

so, even though our protag group’s name is written and visually represented as “wind chime”, Bōfūrin’s name is where this group’s theme of trees/plants start:

防風鈴 (“prevent/protect” “wind chime”) has the same reading as 防風林, a type of forest planted strategically to prevent wind erosion of soil — much like Fūrin’s mission of protecting and serving their town

all of Bōfūrin’s named members (and close associations) so far have some element of tree/plant/wood in their last name (if you look at the kanji of their last names, you’d see a lot of wood radicals/木字旁):

桜 遥 • Sakura Haruka: 桜 / cherry tree

(fun fact: his name 遥 / haruka means "far"; also it's commonly a feminine given name)

蘇枋 隼飛 • Suō Hayato: 枋 / sandalwood (?) or tree used as timber, general term for wooden beams in houses

(fun fact: his last name 苏枋 is the Chinese name of a traditional reddish brown color, named after a pigment made from 苏木!)

楡井 秋彦 • Nirei Akihiko: 楡 / Siberian elm

杉下 京太郎 • Sugishita Kyōtarō: 杉 / Japanese cedar (cryptomeria japonica)

柊 登馬 • Hiiragi Tōma: 柊 / holly osmanthus (osmanthus heterophyllus)

(fun fact: his name 登馬 means "to mount a horse"; no, not that kind of mount, the regular horseback riding kind)

梅宮 一 • Umemiya Hajime: 梅 / plum tree

(fun fact: his name 一 is just "one")

This association also extends to Kotoha, who is very closely associated with Bōfūrin:

橘 琴叶 • Tachibana Kotoha: 橘 / orange tree

now, Bōfūrin members yet to be featured in the show: (spoilers below the break)

(if you want to go to later parts: part 2 - shishitoren & part 3 - noroshi!)

梶 蓮 • Kaji Ren: 梶 / paper mulberry (broussonetia papyrifera)

(fun fact: his name 蓮 / Ren means "lotus")

椿野 佑 • Tsubakino Tasuku: 椿 / Japanese camellia

(fun fact: their name 佑 means "to help/protect" or "to bless"!)

桐生 三輝 • Kiryū Mitsuki: 桐 / empress tree (paulownia tomentosa)

柘浦 大河 • Tsugeura Taiga: 柘 / mandarin melon berry (maclura tricuspidata)

There's also 桃瀬 匠 (Momose Takumi, "peach tree") & 水木 聡久 (Mizuki Saku, "wood"), the two other Heavenly Kings

I hope I have rly driven the point home here,, /lh

[fanaticsnail]

A bit of both

Masterlist here

Word Count: 2,900+

Synopsis: You and Rosinante take your trust to a new level, engaging in two levels of weaving you had yet to use in sequence with one another.

Warnings: Rosinante x gn!reader, vibrator play (reader receiving), bondage (reader receiving), gagged (reader receiving), overstimulation, cock warming, dominant Rosinante x submissive reader, service Dom Rosinante, pet names (cara mia, mi amor, little thing), size difference, love confession, established relationship, praising (Rosinante giving), no gendered titles used, insertion sex (reader receiving), 18+, MDNI, smut.

Notes: This was not the fic I was working on, but the service-dom wanted to get out before the mean, jealous one. Ever since I wrote the "T" section for the NSFW Alphabet fic, I needed to see it explored a little more. I hope you enjoy.

Trailing behind you, gift bags lazily slinging from his shoulder with their cord drawstrings caught in his fingers and palm, Rosinante rolled his eyes as you debated with yourself which item you truly wanted from the bakery. Drawing his arm down, he let the bags hang from his wrist as he shoved his hand into his pocket.

“I mean, on the one hand, I do want an almond croissant. The filling is almost like fresh marzipan, and it's so sweet,” you tapped your chin with your fingertips before looking to the other glass display, “But on the other hand, I kind of want something savory like a cheese danish. I don't know about the salt content versus the sugar. If you were to choose one-?”

“-We’ll take an almond croissant and a cheese danish please,” Rosinante held up his hands to the baker, gently shaking his head at you before glancing at the corner of his eye at you. With an arched brow, he placed his Berry on the counter and waited for his change.

“What are you playing at, Rosinante?” you question him linking your arm through his bad leaning on his shoulder, “That's too much, look at the size of them!”

“Take a bite of both of them, and then choose the one you like more,” he gazed down his nose at you with his hazelnut colored eyes, scolding you with his expression. “I'll eat the other one.”

“Smart,” you nod with your pout down-turning. He shot you a sly wink, taking the change and watching the attendant fold the brown bag down at the opening. Pastries already staining the covering with the fat from overly saturated butter, you reached up and made to gather the bags; halting immediately as Rosinante shot you a warning look.

Placing his Berry in your back pocket, he reached up and took the two paper bags in his hands while you laced your hand in the crook of his elbow once more. Sheepishly looking at the ground, you felt him stoop down and press his lips to your temple.

“You know I won't let you lift a finger, mi amor,” the low growl in his deep baritone caused your eyes to flutter closed and spine ignited with pricks of fine needles. Opening your eyes to fall half-lidded, you smile bashfully at him. He pressed his lips atop the apple of your cheek, his soft smile felt in his sweet kiss.

Pastry bags left crumpled in the refrigerator, gift bags lying messily by the door, clothes were scattered and discarded in the hamper in the corner of the room. Shoes placed together in the hallway, the dim light of the room illuminated the skin of your tall lover.

Gazing possessively down at you, his lip paint lay smudged on his cheeks and chin, as your own skin was littered with intentional kisses ranging from your littlest toe to the crown of your head. You pleaded with your eyes, your lips swollen and bruised from being mounted and dominated with his own lips moments prior.

He molded your flesh beneath his hands to worship you, before drawing out a lengthy piece of rope with the intent to accentuate and immobilize your features.

“You've been so good today, mi amor,” he whispered, coiling and knotting the rope over your breasts, “Such a good little thing for me.” You whimpered for him as he parted your thighs and drew one knee up to your wrist, circling it with the fabric.

You open your mouth to speak, his eyes shooting you a look of warning for you to hold your tongue. Elevating your other knee to your wrist, he insured you were snug enough in your ties that you were not uncomfortable. Crawling between your exposed thighs and lowering his chest and stomach over your torso, he smiled down at you with a playful twinkle in his eye.

“Before we start, do you want a sip of water or to finish your danish?” he offered, giving you a sweet and genuine smile, “I can get it out of the fridge for you.” You smiled back in response before shaking your head at him.

“No thank you, sir,” you chirped back at him. He learnt forward, brushing your nose with his own before drawing a woven gag up to your lips. You parted your lips, causing Rosinante to coo down at you in glee.

“So well mannered,” he praised you, “So good.” He pressed his lips over yours, the material preventing him from truly feeling your lips on his. “Now, remember what we talked about? Give me a demonstration of what you need to do if it gets too much?”

You bobbed your head up and down to nod in understanding before humming three notes up through your nose at him in a melody familiar to you both. Bondage was not a new concept to you, but with the addition of the gag it felt like you had no communication for if it got too intense. When you were tied, you would use your safe word when it got too much, just like your rapid taps against the mattress in code would halt motions when gagged.

“Perfect, cara mia,” he pursed his lips against your temple, “I'm gonna sit behind you now.” You nod eagerly, darting your eyes between his as he moves from your torso and kneel before you. His cock was achingly hard, his red top shining in the light from how desperate he was yearning for you.

The shibari had you feeling completely exposed and vulnerable, just the way Rosinante enjoyed you. Each time he tied you felt like you were a little gift wrapped up just for his delight, his complete control and your complete submission to him alighting a flame of trust between both of you.

Rising to his feet, he gingerly walks over to his knight stand and finds a leaf-shaped object and it's remote ignition. Eyes widening he moves his way behind you and presses his torso flush to your back before moving his forearms beneath your legs. Lifting you with ease, his tip lined up with your entrance which waited eagerly with prior lubrication.

Placing the tip over your quivering body, he eased you to softly impale yourself on his cock. Inch by inch, you took Rosinante's impressive length into you with your eyes wide and lips falling wide.

“You okay, mi amor? Not too much too quick, is it?” he hastily checked in, knowing the size difference may cause you some discomfort while you adjusted. You whined and shook your head, wriggling in his arms in a bid to take more of him within you. He chuckled, giving into your request and slinking you down on his steely cock. Hissing at the feeling, Rosinante let out a shuddering deep moan as he felt your body move to accommodate him.

“Oh, so good,” his deep voice praised you, his lips finding your shoulder blade and caressing your skin. “Okay, stay still. One more tie, and we'll be all done.” You knit your brows in focus, tensing your abdomen as his hands move around the both of you.

The small leaf was pressed against your sensitive nerves at the front of you, prompting you to unintentionally gasp at the sensation. The small bud encumbered your nerves endings completely, the anticipation eating at you as he chuckled lightly. Adjusting the ropes, he insured the object was flush with your skin before wrapping the ropes around both of your waists. Each touch his hands gave you left tingles on your skin, your body fluttering around him as you kept yourself as statuesque as you could.

“Now all you have to do is keep my cock warm for me while we watch a play on the carrier snail,” he whispered against your ear, leaving a soft kiss on your lobe, “All I want you to do is cum for me. So, so much, mi amor.” Your eyes widened as you felt his hands reach for the switch for the projector snail, and for the remote attached to the soft leaf.

“Just sit pretty like you're doing,” he clicked on the projector, the lights flickering over the wall and starting the dancing lights and music to follow, “And cum on my cock.” The leaf buzzed and shook to life, your back arching into his torso at the intensity of the motion. Rosinante chuckled against you, feeling your body contract around him almost immediately.

The rhythmic thump of your entrance adjusting and the coil tightening in your abdomen was enough to strike lightning in your vision. Immediately writhing on his lap, you bucked and ground yourself back into him as best you could against the bonds. Your body chased your high, leaving a mess on both yours and Rosinante’s body as you came hard against the leaf.

“Oh, good job,” he whispered against your cheek, adjusting the switch as he felt you fall back from your high to not overstimulate you with too much intensity too quickly. Giving your thigh a gentle tap as you panted behind the gag, Rosinante soothed your skin before reigniting the switch.

Keening and choking through your gasp, he continued to dart his attention between focussing on you and the moving picture in front of you. Each time he felt your body almost reach its high, he would gaze down at you lovingly while he watched your face contorting in pleasure. Letting go of all thoughts as euphoria washed over you, he would always end your climax with praise and a soft kiss.

“So good for me,” he purred at you, the deep rumble in his chest cutting over the whines and mewls you'd release in ecstasy. “That one was a big one, huh? Keep it up, mi amor.” His hands began to dutifully worship your thighs and devote all of his attention to you. Constantly engaging with your feet and wrists to ensure adequate blood flow, he had you unravel on his lap another eight times for the duration of the moving picture.

Each time he felt you cum, he did his best to keep himself edged and not spill over too soon. Your body wrapped around and exposed for him and him alone had him fighting with himself for a sense of control: just how he needed it. He needed you to be a channel for his lust, his greatest escape and refuge from the hardships of his mission. Something he could control, to focus on, and to have an immediate response to his intentional actions. He needed you to have the release and freedom that he couldn't, waves of empathetic bliss being felt as he felt your body become void of anything other than him.

He needed that complete control.

Eyes glazed with dewy water, cheeks stained with hot tears, body and nerves shot with oversensitivity, gag damp with your own saliva, you felt completely void of all thoughts other than to engage in Rosinante's commands as best as you could.

Keep his cock in your body while the play projects, and cum as much as you could.

As soon as the screenplay ended, Rosinante let out a soft moan as he tested his cock by rocking you on his lap. Your body felt limp and pliable, nodding in acknowledgement as you felt him begin to move. Each follicle of your body was engaged, mind numb and pleasure coursing through your veins. Thrusting up, you heard him whimper a soft whine of your name as he rocked you harder and faster on his lap.

Head lulled on his chest, you felt him flick the leaf back to life and reach a hand around in front of you to add more pressure to the stimulation. His fingers and palm gave you that final push you needed to begin to chase a fresh wave of desire as he huffed and panted behind you. Jolting your body up and down his girthy cock had his blunt tip reach depths within you that had you cry out for him. Sobbing and whining, you felt the coil begin to tighten and compact into a ball as he continued to pummel up into you.

“O-Oh, fuck. You've got one more for me, don't you? Just one more,” he kissed and bit at your neck, tongue and teeth dragging at your skin, “Be good a little bit longer and give me one more. I want it. Give it to me.” His gruff bark had you immediately whine at yourself to focus on chasing your release, your oversensitive body almost giving out while bound in the safety of your harness.

A scream found its way through the muffled gag as you came hard around him, body shaking and trembling as he moaned deeply for you.

“Oh, fuck. Good job, such a good listener. Fuck-... Nghh-... I'm c-cumming,” he shuddered, burying his forehead in the crook of your neck as he shot ropes of his release into you, “Yes, yes. Take it. Take. It.” He continued to usher you into a lengthier release as his balls sucked into his abdomen and shot a viscous expulsion of desire up into you.

Huffing and panting, he kept rocking you as he fucked his release back up into you. Your body was limp like a doll, a marionette dancing bound in strings for him as your master. His movements staggered, his soft calls of your name singing to you his sweet song of praise.

Finally feeling himself still, the aftershocks of his twitches spurting the final shudders of release into you, he finally switched off the leaf and tugged your body to lie flush with him. Showering your skin in soft kisses, he panted against you while his cock lingered within you.

Straining against the bands, you attempt to unravel yourself from the ropes by rotating your wrists in a bid for relief. Rosinante is immediately refocused, gently coaxing his cock from you and manuevering you over to the pillows beside him. His digits flew like lightning, hastily untying you and insuring your body had regained circulation by massaging and pressing his lips against your skin.

“Rosinante, I'm okay,” you reassure him, smiling through your glassy eyes up at him. He smiled down at you while continuing to focus his attention on the knots and weaves. Releasing the last length of rope from your body, he pressed his lips over each point of strain on your wrists, thighs, backs of your knees and sensitive abdomen.

Each time he releases a small part of the bonds, you feel his devotion in his delicate touch. Each kiss, each caress, each gentleness in his intimate touch: he was a devotee to your altar. His prayers were to see you thrive and come undone by his motions. His dedication each of new session to explore the trust in one another was unmatched, and you truly adored him.

And he loved you completely.

As you moved to stand, your body was overcome immediately by the intensity of pleasure your body endured. Your skin was hyper sensitive to touch, and your bones congealed under the pressure. Rosinante rapidly clicked his tongue at you, pouting his lips before smiling up at you.

“Oh, come now. We've been through this,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose with yours. You smiled through tight lips up at him, your vision hazy as you matched his doting twinkle in your dual vibrant afterglow.

“You know I won't let you raise a finger.”

Lips finally colliding, passion through overexertion lingered in the atmosphere. Parting lips, you gingerly hooked your arms over his shoulders and tugged him closer. He hummed against you, grinding his tongue against yours and stealing your breath from you. Lacing your fingers through his hair, he rotated his chin slowly to take on more of you through each languid motion.

Pulling away, he gazed deeply into your eyes with his orbs pooling with emotion. Caressing your skin, he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” he whispered, his breath huffing softly against your skin, “So, so much." To re-emphasize his intent, he repeated his phrase, "So much.”

“I love you too,” you whisper softly against his skin, moving your hands from his hair to his cheeks. “My heart. My sweet Corazon.” He smiled at you, taking a moment to linger in the world you forged together before humming softly at you.

“Yes, I'm all yours cara mia. Let me get you cleaned up.” The creases in the corners of his eyes were the most beautiful sight you'd seen, "You want bubbles or salts?" His gorgeous glimmer in his grin found purchase and roots in your heart with each beat.

“You think I can choose?” you giggle up at him. He hooked his arms behind your knees, your back supported by his other as he cradled you into him.

“It's alright, mi amor,” he chuckled at you, stumbling a little as he readjusted you in his arms. “You can have a bit of both and share it with me.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady

[themorganberry]

~ Voice Acting News ~

I voice for Polka Shinoyama in ‘Dead Mount Death Play!’

[serpentface]

An old wildwoman, a fae-like mountain spirit closely associated with scimitar deer, as described in folklore in the Greathill region.

Wildfolk are depicted as petite humans, always naked, usually unnaturally pale, with older adult adult men and women both having long, shaggy beards and eyes that reflect light. Wildfolk youths are described as preternaturally beautiful in stark contrast, only gaining their unsettling appearances and unkempt beards as they age.

These spirits are said to make their homes in hills, forests, and mountaintops beyond the immediate borders of human habitation, where they live in dispersed parallel societies as herders and sorcerers. They are often depicted as mischievous, and take joy in meddling in human affairs and harassing travelers. Most of their pranks are not particularly malicious (though their victims may not see it that way) but they are said to be capable of inflicting curses and transforming victims into animals.

They are very fond of alcohol, and offerings of murre (a fermented milk beverage, usually made with berries for extra alcohol content) wine or ale may grant their boon. It is typical in villages to leave offerings out to any local wildfolk on the night of the new moon to maintain good relations and avoid their harassment.

Scimitar deer are said to be their livestock, herded and milked like cattle by the wildfolk but never eaten (most traditions hold that they eat no meat at all). Wildfolk themselves have the ability to shapeshift into deer (in some traditions, recognizable by retaining human eyes in deer form), and spend most of their lives in this form, only taking human form at night.

Their society is believed to be led by witches, powerful sorcerers who can influence weather patterns and shapeshift into any animal, most commonly taking the forms of eagles. Witches in particular are seen as highly dangerous (though not intrinsically malevolent), and areas believed to be inhabited by them are generally avoided. Exceptions are made in times of trouble, when offerings of grain and fine wine are left to plead for their boon. Exceptions are also often made by rowdy teenagers, trespassing on a witch's territory as a dare.

One tale describes a king of ancient Ephennos who, while on campaign, abducted the young and beautiful daughter of the famed wildwoman witch Bernike to take as his wife. In revenge, Bernike transformed him into a gazelle, and he was (unknowingly) hunted, killed, and eaten by his own men. The butchered carcass reverted to that of a human by the next morning, and the men committed suicide or were driven mad in the face of their cannibalistic transgression. Their restless spirits are said to still haunt Bernike's pass, while the ghostly gazelle-king is her personal mount.

Livestock raiding is of cultural significance in the region, and raid tales are another key part of the wildfolk mythos. These tend to involve a wily hero who steals a wildman’s deer herd, and manages to keep his prize and avoid being cursed by outsmarting the spirit's trickery. Once his, the deer provide milk that extends the lifespan (the folk hero Kulyos is said to have lived for 200 years), and plow fields with tremendous speeds without tiring. The native-bred khait stock of this region is said to have been hybridized with Kulyos' stolen deer, which affords these khait their hardy, surefooted nature and pointed horns.

The other common theme in folklore is a wildfolk youth as a bride or groom. Mortals with supernatural grooms are luckier, as the child is usually deemed fully human but has the blessing and protection of their supernatural sire (who inevitably transforms into a deer and leaves). Tales of marriage to a wildwoman usually end in the bride becoming restless and lonely, and transforming both herself and her child into a deer and fleeing back into the hills. Both bride and groom tales sometimes end with the wildman spouse returning to their human lover on certain nights, or meeting again at certain times of the year (usually new moons or midsummer).

These variants often involve elements where the returning supernatural spouse has developed their beard and rugged appearance, being almost unrecognizable from the beautiful youth that was wed. (Well kept beards are considered handsome, but the beards of wildmen are seen as humorously long and unkempt). Comedic versions of the tale involve the returning spouse being insulted by their human lover’s lack of enthusiasm for their appearance and laying a (usually humorous) curse on them. More romanticized tales involve the human spouse so overcome by their love that they are unbothered, and they often live a long life with the boon of their supernatural lover and child.

An example of such a tale under the cut:

A highly romanticized, 'uh' and projection-laden version of the wildwoman bride folktale as orally recited by Brakul, probably at least a little drunk:

---

“So, there is this young herder. He’s a man grown but still unmarried, so he’s still tending his mother’s cattle. He has them out to pasture high into the mountains, right? He's from a lesser clan, so most of their land is poor grazing. His cattle are so skinny and sickly that no one's going to the effort of stealing them. So it's not worth sending any warriors along, and he will be up there all alone for many weeks.

Every day he is very bored. Very lonely. And every night he starts to see a herd of deer moving among his cattle. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen them, they are mostly like gazelles? But bigger, and the males have one horn.

Anyway, the deer are up in his pastures, and there is not a lot of grass to go around, but he knows not to chase them off. Deer all belong to the wildfolk, yeah? You let them do their thing if you know what’s good for you.

Obviously there is a wildman or woman living on this mountain, so each night he leaves some of his murre- um. Is that a word here? It’s fermented milk and fruit, like ale. Wildfolk love it. He leaves some murre out in a cup just outside his camp each evening, and the cup is empty each morning.

So, yeah, the deer come every night, but they all keep their distance. They're very scared of humans, right? They keep well away. Except for this one doe. This doe walks right up to him. Every night she walks up to him, just out of arms reach. No fear. And this is a beautiful, fierce animal, so he becomes quite fond of her.

Anyway, there is many days of this. The herder moves the cattle around, and at night the deer come to graze, the doe comes to meet him, so on and so forth. His cattle are growing huge and fat and have plenty of milk, even with the terrible forage. He suspects the wildfolk of these hills have given him their blessing. So, things are looking pretty good for him, but he’s still quite lonely.

One night, it’s the new moon. Very dark. And it’s very cold up there. He is sitting at his fire, all wrapped in his blankets, you know, shivering and miserable. And he sees the deer herd making their way towards him, but something is different. There is a girl with them. And she’s completely naked. So, uh, you know, why is she naked? Isn’t she cold? No shoes, even. It’s crazy.

And this girl would’ve been walking for days to get up there, but there is no dirt, no cuts on her feet. And she's strange looking too, she's very short and has long, dark hair, and big, dark eyes. But the thing is, uh, she is the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. She's so beautiful, she frightens him.

She comes up by the fire and sits right down next to him. I think he’s probably going, uh, are you okay? And he’s trying to give her his blanket or something, but she laughs at him. She’s just fine. Better off than he is.

So they talk, and he shares his food with her. And this guy is not stupid, so yeah, he figures out that this is a wildwoman, this is probably the same doe that had been visiting him. So he’s careful and polite with the strange, lovely girl. But he is not too careful to fall in love with her. Which, uh. He does. Immediately, I guess.

She visits every night from then on, and I think they probably have a lot to talk about. A lot to learn from each other, right? She really likes him too. She is a powerful wild spirit, but she’s still young, and has feelings just like any other youth. She’s fallen in love with this human too. Wildfolk are probably just as lonely as herders, I think. Just up there on the- the hills. Not a lot going on up there.

So. She’s there each night for the rest of the season, and they are, uh, having sex a lot too. You have to pass the time up there somehow. You know how it goes.

And finally, the day comes that he has to take the cattle back down the mountain. Soon it will be too cold, and the grazing too poor to stay. He doesn’t want to leave her behind, and she doesn’t want him to go. And she could just turn him into a stag and keep him there forever, but she would never do that to him. She truly cares for him. So she agrees to leave her mountain home and go back with him.

So he dresses her in his cloak, because she’s been naked this whole time and that, uh, doesn’t fly. And they descend to the village. He went up alone with a skinny, sickly herd, and came back with fat cattle and the most beautiful girl anyone has ever seen.

He lies and says he found her as a stranded traveler. Some people probably have their suspicions, but if they have suspicions of her nature, they, y’know, also know better than to cross her.

The herder and the wildwoman marry, and she realizes that she is pregnant soon after. It’s probably scary for both of them, but, uh. They’re both very happy. For a while.

But he’s a young man, so. When he is not out herding he has to protect the village livestock, and go out on raids. So he is often away from home. And she often finds herself alone. She does not fit in well with the villagers, right? Many of the men covet her, many of the women are jealous of her, and all are a little afraid of her. She’s very lonely, and misses her deer and her hills. At night, she sneaks out naked and roams the foothills, calling out to her herd, but they are too far away.

Months pass this way, and she is close to term. The herder desperately wants to be with her for the birth, but he is called away. They, uh-. The stories don’t usually elaborate why. He’s probably oathbound to protect his ruling clan’s khait, that sort of thing comes up a lot during the foaling season. You get- people always try to steal the foals as a, uh, political statement. It’s a whole thing.

Anyway, all he can think of is his wife and child, and he hurries back as soon as he can. His mother is waiting for him upon his return, and tells him that his wife gave birth in the night. Both new mother and child are safe and healthy, and the herder is now the father of a little boy.

He's sad to have missed it, but mostly just relieved that everything went alright. So he rushes to his home, all excited. But the house is empty. His wife and newborn are nowhere to be found, and the wildwoman’s clothes are shed in a pile beside the open door. There are prints leading away from the home, and he follows them as fast as he can. He’s running with all his might, you know, calling out for her, 'hey, come back'. He gets to the foothills, and looks up to the top of a great ridge. The doe is standing there next to a newborn fawn, all shaky on its little legs. He begs her not to leave, but she turns and runs away. By the time he gets up the ridge, both mother and child are long gone.

The herder has nothing else to do but go back to his old life. He is heartbroken. He did not realize she was so unhappy in the village, he was such a fool. He should have known better.

And he also should have long since been wed at his age, and is now, uh, kind of maybe divorced? His mother hates to see him sad, so she finds him many fine matches, all lovely young women. But he refuses them all. Probably causes all sorts of drama, it’s- uh. That sort of thing gets ugly.

So, after a while of this, the herder's friends and family pity him. They’re annoyed with him, really. They’ve figured it all out by now, and they just think he’s insane. He should feel lucky that he came away from a tryst with a wildwoman unharmed, right? It was never going to work. He should just move on. But he can’t. He doesn't want anyone else. He wants her, and he wants his son. He is so depressed that he falls ill, and can’t go up to pasture that summer. Everyone is just all, 'gods above this guy is so fucking useless', haha.

Um. It’s funny.

The next year, the herder is still depressed, but he's put himself together, a little. So he is back up in the mountain pasture again that summer. Days go by, but there is no sign of the deer herd, much less of his wife or child. He has never felt more alone.

Then, on the night of the new moon, he is awoken by the sound of hooves on rock. He cannot believe his eyes. The doe is back, and with her a strong young buck, just beginning to grow his first antler. The herder is overjoyed, he runs up to greet them. Both doe and buck change shape, and before him stands the wildwoman and a young boy. His bride is older now, so she has started to grow her beard and is much less beautiful. But he doesn’t care. He embraces her, and holds his little son for the very first time.

Uh, the herder can barely speak. He’s sobbing, he’s a mess. The wildwoman tells him she regrets leaving like that, and she's missed him too. But she needs the hills, she needs her herd. She can never be happy in his world.

They come to an agreement that night. They will have to spend most of their life apart, there’s no way around it. But they will meet again every summer, up in the mountain pastures. And their son is both human and wildfolk, so, maybe he can be happy in both worlds? They agree to hand him off year after year. The child will spend half of his life in the village with the humans and his father, and half of his life in the hills with the deer and his mother.

So, the family spends that summer together, and when the time comes to part, the herder returns to the village with his son. The child is rather eccentric. He's only a toddler, but can already run like a deer. He takes a long time to learn to speak. And he hates clothes. His father eventually gets him to stay dressed, but the kid never wears any shoes. His little feet are strong. Like, uh. Hooves.

Anyway, yeah, the herder misses his wife every day, and dreads each year that he will be apart from his son. But he can live with it. He knows he will see them both again.

And that’s how he spends the rest of his days. His son stays with his human father one year, and with his wildwoman mother the next, and all three meet together during the summer. It’s not a normal life for a herdsman by any means. He has no wife in the village to run his home and manage his livestock, and his son is often away, and-. Usually there’s a bit here where the kid grows up and has babies with, um, normal deer. So the herder doesn’t exactly have grandchildren either.

So, yeah. He lives a strange life, and he leaves no heirs behind, but he would not be happy any other way. Uh. That’s it.”

[teojira]

[Sweetheart] [Noa x reader drabble]

Summary: Noa comes to you and asks what a specific nickname means, one that he found in a book

Word count: 850+

Warnings: Noa having feelings for reader and he's once again fighting for his life.

A/N: this SUCKS but it's been in my notes app for far too long and it's almost 1k words that I cannot scrap, this is a weak piece but nonetheless, I hope someone enjoys it!

Noa has been introduced to the term "sweetheart" when digging through some of Raka's stash of books the orangutan had left behind. The Ape had decided to take a trip back to where he first met him to see if there has been more to learn from his late companion. And to this surprise, there was.

Many more books that Raka has deemed fit to be left behind. It was a good thing in hindsight, Noa figured. He could ask you about the words and their meaning, for you to teach him how to read it and comprehend.

The first book he has popped open seemed to be a picture book with very few words, like the one he has seen at the human base.

There were two echoes dancing around one another, seemingingly lost in one another's gaze from what the Eagle clan leader could tell.

'You are my sweetheart.' The script said, interesting. Tucking it into his woven bag, Noa mounted his horse to head back home.

"Echo." Noa murmured, walking slowly from behind you.

You looked peaceful, the orange glow from the fire lighting up your features as you rested, a bowl of berries sat on top of your thighs.

"Welcome home, Noa." The smile you sent him was enough to make the ape trip over nothing. It was embarrassing. It made him feel like a child all over again.

After correcting himself, he eased himself down to your level, crouching to meet you.

"Need your help." Signing with one hand, moving to grab the book from the sling it was fastened in.

Your body subconsciously leans into his space, something you were usually mindful about. But he has been gone for a few days, leaving by himself along with Eagle sun and his horse.

"Why can't I come?" Huffing, you're staring at the back of Noa's head, trying your best to not let the anxiety of him leaving overtake you.

"Too far, might be dangerous." Noa shook his head, moving to strap his spear onto the horse's saddle. He knew if he turned around and looked at you, he'd cave and bring you with.

Don't turn around. Don't turn around. Don't turn. He can't take you, he can't.

The warm hand on his back is enough to make a shudder, his shoulders tense as your small hand ever so gently pats at the fur there.

"...be safe." Your voice sounds small, and only then does he turn to you, taking you in.

"I will."

It was weird being without him, you've grown so used to him being by your side.

You managed just fine despite what your brain would have you believe. You had taken on helping with the eagles in Noa's stead. Feeding, watering, making sure they come to roost at night and securing them.

It did little to keep your mind off of Noa, though. Just making you miss the chimp all the more.

If He had any issue with you in his personal space, it wasn't apparent, letting you cozy up to him.

Leaning a bit further, you peer at what's in his hands.

"Oh! You found a book?"

He hums at you, delicately cracking the small book open, careful with its worn pages to flip to the end where he found the weird name.

"What does-" He points a finger down at the word. "Sweet heart. Mean?"

"It's just an expression, a nickname." Picking up a berry to toss it in your mouth, chewing softly as you watch Noa compute your words.

"...nick..name?" He stutters over the word, raising an eye bridge.

"It's way to call your loved ones a special name. Sweetheart is one of them."

'Do you like it, being called that?' He signs, turning his body to you, taking in just how pretty you look in the fading sunlight, his eyes trained on your lips.

"Well, no one's ever called me any before, so I don't know."

You seem embarrassed, your body immediately going into defensive mode as you curl up.

Noa can change that, he thinks.

You don't think anything of that conversation after a few days past, figuring it was just another one of Noa's questioning about humans.

It isn't until you're grooming the horses, scrubbing at their coat, and ensuring that they're clean that it gets brought up again.

"Sweetheart!" A loud voice all too familiar calls out, making you jump out of your skin and drop the brush in your hands.

Whirling around, you see that it's the Eagle Clan leader himself, making his way towards you with a smile on his lips, his bright eyes trained on yours and he has a extra carrier around his shoulder, no doubt for you.

"Noa?" You're trying your best to fight off the blush that rushes to your cheeks, but it's useless. Hopefully, he thinks it's due to the heat that you're flustered, god willing.

This begins Noa's continuous use of the term. It replaces him calling your name at this point.

Sweetheart this, sweetheart that, for anything you do together, he makes sure to slip it in, loving how you react to it, that you immediately answer to him.

Anaya once tries to call you the nickname, knowing full well that Noa is flirting with you the best way he has learned how but gets shut down instantaneously, Noa playfully putting him in a headlock, huffing as he shakes his best friend.

"My Echo. Mine. Not. Yours."

[stalkerofthegods]

Lord Dionysus/Bacchus deep dive

Lord Dionysus is an eccentric god, He is an understanding god, I adore him as a researcher and as someone in the community with schizophrenia and mental illness, he is kind far beyond words, he is not only a wine god but also the god of freedom and ecstasy, may we all respect him and may his devotees and worshipers speak of his good deeds and yell in his honor of goodness.

Signs he's reaching out • smelling wine all of a sudden, craving wine, You feel a twinge of madness, dreams with his attributes with him, seeing references of him everywhere

Herbs •psalakanthos plant, Grapes and their vines, Figs, Bay laurel, Barley, Pine, Pomegranate, Fennel, apples, berries, weed, Silver Fir, Bindweed, poppy, wheat and hops leafs, wildflowers, pine cones, Apple seeds, Blazing star. I think he would like Cinnamon, mint, feverfew (happiness), Pepper, basil, chives, horseradish (courage), orange, lemongrass, marjoram (insight), vanilla, sorrel, cinnamon (love) 

Animals• Oxen and wild animals, asses, Leopards, Panther, Cheetah, serpents, rams,  dolphins, tigers, lynx, panthers, goats, bats, griffons, bulls , foxes, deers/fawns

Colors •purple, green, gold, Red, Black, White.

Patron of• fruit and intoxitation, Parties, Festivities, Banquets, Drinking, Bacchic Revelry, Madness, Bacchic Frenzy, Insanity, Hallucination, Homosexuality, Effeminacy, Cross-dressing, Forest Wilderness, Wild vegetation, Predatory big cats, Reincarnation, The path to Elysium, Comedy and Tragedy Plays, Playwrites, Actors, bartenders, the arts, non-binary people, divination, witchcraft, oracles

Curses• violence, and sickness, Destructive insanity, madness

Blessings• pleasure and fun, Religious frenzy (in the orgiastic cults), Ecstasy, Afterlife in Elysium (paradise), getting a bigger friend group, charismatic going up, getting a romantic partner.

Diety of• wine-making, orchards, fruit, vegetation, fertility, festivity, insanity, ritual madness, religious ecstasy, theatre, partying, Epiphany, weddings, death, sacrifice, sexuality, dancing, immortality, and reincarnation, uninhibited freedom, as well as the subversion of the powerful, ecstasy, and abandon, swamps and marshes.

Crystals• Amethyst, grape agate, Garnet, Ruby, deep red stones, tiger eye, serpentine, leopard jasper, amber, green opal or jade, carnelian, rose quartz (someone had it on their alter for him, so I added it here.), bloodstone, sugilite, purple fluorite, ametrine lepidolite

Mortal or immortal • immortal

Zodiac • Taruas 

Vows/omans• none 

Number• 7 

Morals• he is morally ambiguous

Married to• Ariadne 

Past lovers• Althaia, Ampelos, Aphrodite, Erigone, Kronois, Pallene, Physokoa, Polymnos.

What he favors in devotees• free-spirited, out-of-the-norm, wild lifestyle, gender fluid, transgender, nonbinary people. People are restricted wanting to become free. 

Personality• He brings joy, ecstasy, and merriment, but also delivers "brutal and blinding rage”, he's a very chill guy, many say he is sassy. I met him once, and he respects people's boundaries.

Home• Mount Olympus 

Equivalents/most resemblance • Osiris, Hades, Sabazios, Yahweh, Bacchus, Liber, Tammuz, Orotalt, Fufluns, Acan, Jesus.

Epithets• Acratophorus, Ἀκρατοφό.ρος “giver of unmixed wine at Phigaleia in arcadia, Acroreites at Sicyon Adoneus a Latinised form of Adonis and is also used as an epithet for Bacchus, AegobolusΑἰγοβόλος "goat-shooter" at Potniae in Boeoria, Aesymnetes Αἰσυμνήτης “ruler" or "lord" at Aroë and Patrae in Achaea, Agrios Ἄγριος "wild", in Macedonia, Androgynos Ἀνδρόγυνος ”Androgynous” specifically in intercourse referring to the god taking both an active male and a passive female role, Anthroporraistes, Ἀνθρωπορραίστης “man-destroyer" a title of Dionysus at Tenedos, Bassareus, Βασσαρεύς "fox-skin", which item was worn by his cultists in their mysteries. Bougenes, Βουγενής or Βοηγενής “borne by a cow", in the Mysteries of Lerna,

Braetes, Βραίτης "related to beer" at Thrace, Briseus Βρῑσεύς "he who prevails" in Smyrna, Bromios Βρόμιος "roaring” and "roar of thunder" refering to the wind amd primarily relating to the central death/resurrection element of his myths and also the god's transformations into lion and bull and  of those who drink alcohol and refers to Dionysus' father, Zeus "the thunderer", Choiropsalasχοιροψάλας “pig-plucker" Greek χοῖρος = "pig"(which was  used as a slang term for the female genitalia as A reference to Dionysus's role as a fertility deity), Chthonios Χθόνιος “the subterranean”, Cistophorus Κιστοφόρος "basket-bearer and ivy-bearer" because baskets are sacred to the Dionysus,Dimetor Διμήτωρ "twice-born" which Refers to Dionysus's two births, Dendrites Δενδρίτης "he of the trees" as a fertility god, Dithyrambos Διθύραμβος used at his festivals referring to his premature birth, Eleutherios Ἐλευθέριος “the liberator" also a epithet shared with Eros, Endendros ("he in the tree"), Enorches "with balls" with reference to his fertility, or "in the testicles" in reference to Zeus' sewing the baby Dionysus "into his thigh" which means his testicles used in Samos and Lesbos, Eridromos"good-running" in Nonnus' Dionysiaca, Erikryptos Ἐρίκρυπτος "completely hidden" in Macedonia, Euaster Εὐαστήρ from the cry "euae",  Euius (Euios), from the cry "euae" in lyric passages, and in Euripides’ play “the bacche, Lacchus Lακχος a possible epithet which is associated with the Elusinian Mysteries, The name "Iacchus" may come from the Ιακχος (Iakchos) whicj is a hymn sung in honor of Dionysus.

Indoletes, Ἰνδολέτης, meaning slayer/killer of Indians Due to his campaign against the Indians, Isodaetes, Ισοδαίτης, meaning "he who distributes equal portions", cult epithet which is also shared with Helios, Kemilius, Κεμήλιος and kemas: "young deer, pricket",

Liknites "he of the winnowing fan", as a fertility god connected with mystery religions ( a winnowing fan was used to separate the chaff from the grain.)

Palazzo Massimo, Rome, Lenaius, Ληναῖος "god of the wine-press", Lyaeus, or Lyaios Λυαῖος, "deliverer” and "loosener") which refers to him as who releases from care and anxiety, 

Lysius, Λύσιος "delivering, releasing" At Thebes there was a temple of Dionysus Lysius, MelanaigisΜελάναιγις "of the black goatskin" at the Apaturia festival, 

Morychus Μόρυχος “smeared" in Sicily, because his icon was smeared with wine less at the vintage, Mystes Μύστης "of the mysteries" at Tegea in Arcadia, Nysian Nύσιος according to Philostatus he was called like this by the Ancient indians  Most probably, because according to legend he founded the city of Nysa, Oeneus, Οἰνεύς "wine-dark" as god of the wine press, Omadios “flesh-eater", Eusebius writes in Preparation for the gospel that Euelpis of Carystus states that in Chios and Tendos they did a human sacrifice to Dionysus Omadios, 

Phallen , (Φαλλήν) (probably "related to the phallus” at Lesbos, Phleus "related to the bloοm of a plant", Peudanor Ψευδάνωρ "false man" referring to his feminine qualities in Macedonia,

Pericionius, Περικιόνιος "climbing the column (ivy)" a name of Dionysus at Thebes, Semeleios or Semeleius or Semeleus an obscure epithet meaning 'He of the Earth' and 'son of Semele' Also “Son of Semele, Iakchus, wealth-giver”, 

Skyllitas, Σκυλλίτας “related to the vine-branch" at Kos, Sykites, Συκίτης "related to figs" at Laconia,Taurophagus, Ταυροφάγος “bull eating", Tauros Ταῦρος “a bull", Theoinus, Θέοινος wine-god of a festival in Attica, Τhyiοn, Θυίων "from the festival of Dionysus 'Thyia' (Θυῐα) at Elis", Thyllophorus, Θυλλοφόρος "bearing leaves" at Kos, Dionysus and Zeus absorbs the role of Sabazios (a Thracian/Phrygian deity)

Facts• Dionysus was the last god to enter Olympus, When Dionysus had grown up lady Hera made him into a state of madness so he wandered through many countries of the earth, He was a student of the famous centaur Chiron who taught him how to dance, The common names Dennis and Denise are said to be derived from Dionysus. he hated the sight of an owl

Roots• Ancient Greece, Greek mythology, Mount Pramnos on Ikaria

Offerings • Honey, Meat, Alcohol (especially wine), Fruit, Cakes, Poetry, Songs, Spices (ex- cinnamon), Blood or liquids resembling blood, He thinks those "wine mom" signs that you get in cheap gift shops are hilarious, Grape juice, Intoxicants, Grapes, Olive oil, Apples, Figs, Eggs, Goblets, Curved daggers, Bull horns, Snake skin, Leopard or tiger print objects, Purple candles, Theatre masks, Sexual toys, Percussion instruments, Wine bottles, Fake/toy grapes, Leaves or curls from grapevines, Pine needles, Pinecones, Apple seeds, Bindweed, Wildflowers, Toys photos or art of any big cats, snakes, Hymns, Songs you’ve written, Any art that you create, Any stories that you create, Art, pictures of the comedy, Wine corks, Wine labels, Toy or miniature drums, milk, water from the sea (he has a strong connection with the sea), Decorative beads, party beads, flashy jewelry, Wine glasses, Shot glasses, Corkscrews, Sparkling cider, Grape flavored things, Cheese, hallucinogens, Nips (small alcohol bottles), Bottle opener, Beer/soda tabs, Alcohol bottles with cool labels, Costumes, NatureFig/fig newtonsBull imagery, Donkey imagery, Bones, Antlers, Dead/preserved animals, Hiking gear, Seeds, Concert/festival tickets, Locks of hair, Shaven beard hair, Pride swag, ravagant clothes/clothes that make you feel good, soup (you know , you know.)

Devotional • learn about sacred sex, shamanic journeying, responsible entheogen use, and alcohol as a sacrament, read “The Secret History” book, Make a playlist for Him, Dance and sing to your favorite songs or songs you’d think He would like, Throw a feast in His honor, Remembering to take your medication and taking care of your mental health, Support/donate to your local theatre in His name, Be a part of the theatre, Stand up for those that are marginalized, Write stories/plays for Him, Invite Him to watch plays or movies with you (especially comedies or tragedies), Throw parties or attend them, Attend festivals, Attend a wine tasting, Go on wine tours, Attend parades, Masturbate or partake in sexual acts for Him (if you’re comfortable doing so And over 18), Drink alcohol or grape juice, Smoke po, Learn about winemaking, Support local vineyards, Wear wreaths made from ivy, Wear faux leopard or tiger print, Wear the color purple, Pray to Him for things while intoxicated/high, Visit your local winery and participate in a grape-stomp, do some Homebrewing in his honor, Grow a garden in his honor, Make your own ritual tools in his honor, Collect art, do Glamourbombs in his honor, Pretend to be somebody else in his honor, go out to a club in his honor, listen to music in his honor, read in his his mythos, write things for a ritual and write a prayer for him, eat some grapes or have some grape juice or sparkling grape juice (or wine if able and of age), listen to party music, read plays, watch musicals or plays (ex- high school musical, Hamilton), listen to musical soundtracks, learn about the history of theatre, learn about viticulture and vineyards, do things that bring you pleasure, listen to party soundscapes, watch documentaries about any of his sacred animals, Trip intentionally/spiritually, Learn about substance abuse/recovery, Destigamtize drug users, Learn about harm reduction, Make home videos, Write poetry, Act, Dress up, Go to the woods, Dance/sing in the woods, Meditate in the woods, Learn wilderness safety and first aid, Learn what to do when encountering a wild animal, Go off the beaten path, Explore new areas, Pick up litter, Forage, Recycle bottles, Grow fruit, Try new fruits, Have sex (let the partner know beforehand it's in Diyonisus honor, 18+), Masturbate (18+), Have threesomes/swing (ask him before and make sure the other participants know it's in Dionysus's honor, 18+.), Finally, give into that one kink you’ve been ignoring (you know the one, 18+), Learn about consent with partners, Learn how to preserve dead animals, Learn about different life cycles (ex-plants, animals), Learn about immigration in your area, Learn about different cultures, Try foreign foods, Learn a new language, Learn about your ancestry, Help immigrants in your area, Grow your hair out, Keep a Manifest/Keep a manifestation journal, Use Sexual/creative energy to manifest, Shed your old self, Do Self-reflection/self-exploration, Identify areas where you overindulge (ex- food, substances, spending).

Symbols• Grapevine, ivy, phallus, Thyrsus, theatrical masks, Leopard Skin, Panther, Cheetah, the animal called asses, cymbals, swords, or serpents, rams, laurel, asphodel,  dolphins, tiger, lynx, panther, horns, goats, his chariot pulled by 2 leopards, masks in general. 

Siblings• Ares, Athena, Apollo, Artemis, Aphrodite, Hebe, Hermes, Heracles, Helen of Troy, Hephaestus, Perseus, Minos, the Muses, the Graces.

His friends/gets along with• Maenads and Bacchantes and Satyrs and Sileni and Pan and Priapus

Attendees• Seilenos (God of Drunkenness), Pan (God of Shepherds & Pastures) the Satyroi and Seilenoi (spirits of Fertility & the Wild) The Bakkhantes and Mainades (Nymphe and Women revellers) Komos Satyriskos (cup-bearer)

Appearance in astral or gen• Dionysus often took on a bestial shape and was associated with various animals, often wearing an Ivy wreath, the thyrsus, and the kantharos (a large two-handled goblet) In early Greek art he has represented as a mature male, bearded and robed holding a fennel staff tipped with a pine-cone, but later on he was portrayed as youthful sensuous, naked or semi-naked androgynous youth and effeminate with brown hair and pale features, often holding grapes and drinking wine.

Parentage•  Zeus and Semele, some sources also say Zeus and Demeter, some say Zeus and Persephone, but he always sends up with Persephone as a foster mother or as a biological mother, but before his reincarnation, his parents were Ammon and Amalthea.

Pet• leopards

Children • Priapus, Hymen, Thaos, Staphylus, Ononpion, Cumus, Phthonus, the Graces and Deianira, Seilenos, Pan, Satyroi & Seilenoi, Bakkhantes & Mainades, Komodo’s

season and festivles• Diyonosus festivals were bacchanalia, Dionysia, Anthesteria, Dionysian, Lenaia, Panathenaia,  his season was spring and March and April

Day• 11th to the 13th of the month of Anthesterion, around the time of the January or February full moon.

Sacred places• Boitia in Greece, naxos Greek, island Edina in western Thrake, his holiest shrine was Mt kithairon (Nysa) in Boiotia Greece, he also declared war on India. A sacred place is the theatre.

Status• Greek god in the major theoi, and an agriculture Demi God. 

Pet peeves• Uderestemating him, he probably won't like it if you ignore him

Music• Disco, show tunes, psychedelic rock, acid folk, Greek folk music, EDM, classical, new wave, art pop, vaporwave, just anything you can dance and sing to.

Tarot• Temperance, fool card, three of cups, the tower, 9 of cups (based off of how people see him through their tarot cards) 

Scents/Inscene • Pine incense,  frankensince, patchouli and vanilla, nutmeg, mulled wine, storax, and Benzoin.

Prayers•

Regular prayer

Dionysos, god whose arrival is swift and certain, enduring friend of women and men whose welcome is warm, bringer of light, we see you in shadows. Dionysos, granter of great blessings, your presence is a heady wine. Kind-hearted god, to each you give as is fitting, each vessel you fill only as we can bear, and yet with even a sip, we are drunk upon you, and our faith is affirmed. Awesome god, by our own will we drink deeply, with you we become lost, we wander, we are found.

Litany to Dionysos

Dionysos of the vine, rich-tressed god of wine, potent and lusty, unmixed, undiluted, with full force you come to us, vital and robust, rich and strong and surprisingly sweet. Dionysos, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Ivy-bearing Dionysos, god of the green, of the power of root on stone, the force of life that will make its own way in spite of all who labor to hold it back, no will or work can bind your might. I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Dionysos of the deep earth, of the dark world, of the unknown expanse beneath the black soil, beneath solid stone, of mysteries you know much, of death and of what lies beyond. God of secrets, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Dionysos the inspiring, granter of words of prose or poesy, words heard best by the drunken and the mad, words forgotten with the passing of night and delight. Bacchus, granter of rare transport, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Dionysos Soter, holder of the hearts of men, you free us from the cares of the world, each brilliant frenzied moment a shining jewel, each glimpse of the sacred more precious than gold. I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Kindly Dionysos, granter of good to men and women, giver of gifts to all who seek your blessing. Gracious Dionysos, accepter of offerings great and small, friend of mankind, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings.

Regular Prayer to Dionysos

Dionysos, deep-hearted one who knows the souls of men and women, whose hand is ever open, ever within reach. Dionysos, god who runs in the dark, who sees with eyes shut tight, who dances to the heart’s strong beat, ever are you yourself, ever constant, ever changing god of those who are trapped, those who seek your truth and their own, those who seek vision beyond seeing, those who seek wisdom beyond knowledge, those who seek the self, pure and sweet, those who seek clarity beyond definition, who seek to embrace the uncertain, to hold, but loosely, to what is true beyond trust.

Regular prayer to Dionysos

I praise Dionysos, lord of the vine, lord of the far reaches of the mind; in the thick of the woods, along darkened paths, in the shadows of dusk and of dawn, you roam the world, the satyrs and the pretty nymphs dancing in your wake. Son of Zeus and fair-haired Semele, bold-hearted Semele, who dared to look into the face of glory, beautiful Semele who you carried into life again, Semele reborn who men called Thyone; beloved of clever Ariadne, quick-witted one, so dear to your heart, your bright-eyed bride and consort; Dionysos, friend of women, friend of the blissful, wild-eyed maenads, pilgrims and pioneers, those who seek, your cheer and inspiration, those who seek your release, from sorrow and despair, those who are lost in joy, and those who have found themselves in you. Dionysos, god of the darkest dark and the deepest deep, boundless one, endless one, fathomless one, in you we see the edges of ourselves, in you, we find our life’s journey, in you we find our home.

To Dionysos

I call to Dionysos, great god of the vine, son of thundering Zeus and headstrong Semele, loving husband of warm-hearted Ariadne. From the east you came, old before the ancients, throughout the elder world were you beloved; in Naxos and Boitia were you celebrated, in temples and in the savage wilderness, the fleet-footed maenads running in your wake. The sweetest, strongest wine is ever your drink; the mind’s release, the body’s loosening, your gift. O Dionysos; thyrsus-shaker, ivy-crowned god, we see you in the shadows, we see you on the edges, we see you in the haze of ecstasy, where we know the truth of passion, where we find the essence of our being. Bacchus, I call to you!

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