#dreamy spires

[vox-anglosphere]

The dreamy spires of Oxford - from an unusual aerial perspective.

Oxford

Birdseye view from High Street - 1922.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I stumbled on this article about 29 Western Gothic Nursery Ideas and I'm so impressed. These ideas can be used for baby, but why not for inspiration for older children's room and adult decor? You gotta see these. This one is called "Mythical Creatures." According to the article, it introduces fantastic beasts like griffins and unicorns into a nursery. Deep jewel tones mixed with soft pastels create a magical yet calming space, perfect for stimulating imagination.

Moonlit Haven brings the peaceful charm of a moonlit meadow indoors. Soft blues and silvers mimic the glow of the moon, while plush moon-shaped pillows and serene meadow-themed wall art enhance the tranquil atmosphere.

Twilight Magic captures the whimsical charm of twilight. Deep purples and blues set a mystical tone, while twinkling fairy lights and mythical creature toys spark curiosity. 

Starry Enchantment brings celestial wonder, combining deep navy hues and silver accents. Star-patterned walls and a night sky ceiling inspire dreams of galactic adventures, while plush star-shaped cushions add comfort and charm.

Mystic Moonlight creates a dreamy nursery, using pale colors and silvery moonbeam motifs. Delicate, floating fabrics and lunar landscapes inspire a sense of wonder and calm.

Gothic Grove brings the charm of an ancient garden indoors. Rich greens and earth tones, paired with floral and vine patterns, create a lush, calming atmosphere. Dark wood furniture and soft lighting enhance the theme’s historic feel.

Eclipse Dreams features a theme inspired by the mystery of an eclipse. Dark colors contrasted with gold accents mimic the sun’s corona, while celestial patterns create a cozy, restful space.

Nightshade Nursery embraces deep purples and soft blacks, creating a secret garden vibe. Subtle botanical prints and shadowy decor inspire storytelling and imagination, while plush rugs ensure a cozy, magical space.

Willow Whispers brings the gentle grace of willow trees. Soft greens and earth tones create a serene atmosphere, while willow branch wall decals sway peacefully, making it the perfect setting for a soothing nursery.

Windy Whispers captures the gentle flow of the wind. Airy fabrics and soft, flowing designs bring a dynamic element to the room, while soft blues and grays create a serene space.

Celestial Dreams brings the night sky indoors. Starry patterns and glow-in-the-dark ceiling stars create a soothing, cosmic environment.

Fairytale Dungeon offers a playful twist, transforming the space into a whimsical medieval fantasy. Castle-like furniture, dragon toys, and soft, ambient lighting create a space full of adventure and charm.

Gargoyle’s Lair incorporates mythical Gothic elements with gargoyle figurines and rugged textures. Stone-gray tones and plush gargoyle toys create a unique space. 

Castle Dreams transforms a nursery into a storybook castle with royal murals, plush thrones, and regal fabrics. Purple and gold accents add a touch of nobility.

Midnight Meadows features calming nocturnal murals. Large wall art depicting moonlit scenes sets a peaceful tone, while indirect lighting enhances the magical nighttime atmosphere.

Gothic Spires draws on cathedral architecture, incorporating pointed arches and soft gray tones for a serene, collected space. Angelic motifs and stained glass details add to the calming environment.

Enchanted Sanctuary creates a magical nursery filled with mystical books and lantern-like lighting. Soft, muted colors and luxurious textures make the space feel warm and enchanting.

Ghostly Playroom introduces playful ghost motifs that create a fun, cozy atmosphere. Soft, pale colors and plush ghost-shaped pillows add whimsy without being spooky.

Lavender Maze brings intricate patterns and soft purples. Labyrinthine designs on wallpaper or rugs add a touch of charm, while simple furniture keeps the room calm and soothing.

Wraith’s Playground is a whimsical take using light, ethereal fabrics to create an airy, magical space. Pale colors and ghostly motifs make the room playful and calming.

Shaded Comfort focuses on muted grays and soft blacks, creating a subtle, shadowy atmosphere that’s perfect for quiet comfort. Soft, plush materials provide both coziness and sophistication.

Cheerful Spirits brings friendly, playful ghost motifs. Bright accents and ghost-shaped pillows add fun to the room, creating a stimulating yet cozy environment.

Twilight Cuddles captures the soft light of dusk. Dusky purples and shimmering fabrics evoke a peaceful, twilight sky, perfect for soothing before bed.

Storybook Charm brings classic fairy tale elements. Deep colors, ornate frames, and vintage toys create an enchanting, adventure-filled space.

Peaceful Tombs embraces the serenity of Gothic architecture. Arched doorways, soft lighting, and muted earth tones create a tranquil, retreat-like environment.

Mystical Reflections uses mirrors to create a sense of depth and magic. Reflective surfaces paired with enchanted forest-themed decor add an element of surprise and wonder.

Raven’s Haven brings the mysterious beauty of ravens into the room with dark, rich colors and plush raven toys. Artwork of ravens in moonlit trees adds a touch of Gothic elegance.

Sapphire Dreams creates a Gothic nursery with deep, calming sapphire hues and silver accents. Dark wood furniture with Gothic detailing completes the serene, magical space.

Gentle Guardians softens the traditional gargoyle motif into playful, friendly figures. Stone-gray tones and whimsical gargoyle toys create a balanced, inviting space.

https://learncalifornia.org/western-gothic-nursery/

[theostrophywife]

the prince of hell | part two.

we might just get away with it, the altar is my hips even if it's a false god, we'd still worship this love

author's note: i have chosen violence today and i won't apologize for it. anyways, enjoy this soft fluff.

song inspiration: false god by taylor swift.

The underworld was nothing like you expected it to be. 

It was a land of perpetual night, but it wasn’t the frightening unending darkness of nightmares, instead it was moonlight and constellations, twinkling stars and violet skies. Never in a million years would you have predicted hell to be dreamy. 

But it was. Everything about the place was an absolute dream. None more so than the winged male carrying you in his arms. 

The Prince of Hell smiled softly as he cut through the cumulus clouds, flying towards an enormous castle perched atop an obsidian mountain. The peaks glittered like dark diamonds, the gothic spires and turrets spearing through the endless night as you floated through the sea of stars. The moon shimmered overhead as Azriel landed on the open balcony. 

Though his feet hit the chequerboard floor, Azriel made no move to release you from his grip. He merely continued carrying you through his home, past the moonstone walls and marble pillars, through countless rooms full of lavish furniture and extravagant paintings, and underneath a crystal chandelier that projected starlight onto the polished onyx floors. 

You gaped in wonder as he slipped past mahogany doors and into a bedchamber with a four poster bed. The sheets felt like silk to the touch as he carefully set you down. Across the room, you stared at your bewildered expression through a gilded mirror, your hair wild and unbound, your wedding dress smeared with blood and ash. 

Azriel’s brows furrowed in concern as he wiped a streak of dried blood from your cheek. “Are you sure you’re alright, my heart?” His fingers skirted over your hairline, brushing a stray strand behind your ear with surprising gentleness. “You’re shaking.” 

You gave him a watery smile. “I’m fine. Just a little rattled, that’s all.”

“I won’t apologize for what I did to that mortal, but I am sorry if it frightened you. The way he spoke about you, the way he grabbed you—” he released a shaky breath as if the memory still stoked his anger. “I wanted to do more than just rip out his wretched heart.”

You grabbed his hand and squeezed in reassurance. “You saved me.” Honey eyes dawned on you like sunset, disbelief dancing in Azriel’s gaze as though no one has ever said such a thing to him. “You saved me and I owe you my life.�� 

“You owe me nothing,” Azriel declared with determination. “You will never owe anyone anything ever again.”

Those words released another floodgate of tears. As the Prince of Hell cradled you in his arms, his soft voice a soothing lullaby in your ears, the realization that you were free—truly free slammed into you. You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, maybe minutes, maybe hours, but what you did know was that Azriel was a refuge in the storm.

As he had been in your dreams for far longer than you could remember. 

“I thought I’d dreamt you up,” you said, looking up at this stranger who really wasn’t a stranger at all. “How are you real?” 

There was something about the way those golden eyes softened that made your heart leap in your chest. Azriel brushed a tear away and took a deep breath. “Once upon a time, there was a raven with a broken wing. It searched high and wide for shelter, but because of its injuries, the raven couldn’t fly very far. One day it landed in the countryside, half-frozen and half-starved, where a girl found it buried amongst the snowbanks. The girl took pity on the raven and brought the bird home, offering it shelter and mending its broken wing. As she nursed the raven back to health, he did something very foolish. He fell in love with the girl. The raven knew it was a mistake. She was beautiful and gentle and kind and he was a creature of nightmares. Eventually, he healed and she set him free. That should have been the end of the story, but the raven was a selfish bastard. It kept coming back—watching over her, leaving her gifts, and visiting her dreams.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you listened, realization slowly washing over you as Azriel spoke. “Then one day, the raven heard the girl’s father praying to the old gods. Heaven ignored his pleas, but Hell listened. The raven listened because he had never forgotten the girl’s kindness. What the girl didn’t know was that the raven wasn’t a raven at all. He was the Prince of Hell. The day she found him, he had been attacked by his step brothers who sought his throne for themselves. They held him down and drove a spear through his wing, nearly severing it.” 

His right wing flared out and you saw a large scar running through the underside of the red and gold membrane. “Before they could kill him, the Prince of Hell shifted into his raven form and fate took him to the small village where the kind girl rescued him. The raven would have died if it weren’t for her. When she set him free, he knew it killed her to do so. But the girl understood what it was like to be in a cage and she didn’t want him to have the same fate as her, so she let him go. As the girl watched the raven fly away with a heavy heart, he promised that one day, he’d set her free too.”

The room was silent as Azriel’s fingers raked through your scalp. “So the raven bided his time. Bargained with the girl’s father. Slaughtered his greedy step brothers. Reclaimed his throne. Then finally, the raven fulfilled his promise. The girl thought that he had set her free, that he had saved her, but what she didn’t know was that she saved him first. Before he met her, everyone always said that the raven had no heart and they were right because his heart was tucked away in that small, snowy village.”

The Prince of Hell brushed his lips over your temple. “That’s what you are to me,” Azriel said softly. “My heart.”

“Why me?” you asked. The memories flashed through your mind. Finding him in that snowbank. Bandaging up his wing. Your father had scolded you for it. Called you soft hearted. Always bringing in the strays of this world. The girl who desperately clung onto magic and fairy tales to escape the harsh reality of her own life. “I’m just a girl who has a weakness for the wild things.”

“Being kind is not a weakness,” Azriel said firmly. “I used to think it was. My father taught me as much and so did his father before him. But they were wrong. It was the kindness of a stranger that brought me back to life. A girl who gave me everything when I had nothing to give in return. That is true strength.”

Tears fell from your eyes like raindrops. It felt good to be seen. To have the whole of you reflected so clearly in someone else’s eyes. “You’re my freedom. You’re my salvation,” you stroked his cheek almost reverently. “I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”

“As have I, my heart,” Azriel whispered softly, pressing his forehead against yours. “As have I.”

“You saved me,” you said once again.

“We saved each other.”

Your heart thundered in your chest as he traced the outline of your jaw, his thumb brushing against your lips. His touch was featherlight, but it set your entire body on fire. Azriel’s gaze marked you, burned you. It felt like he was embedding himself upon your soul.

“Azriel?” Your voice came out in a whisper, low and breathless. 

“Yes, my heart?” 

“Kiss me. Please.”

The Prince of Hell shuddered a breath. Then his hand slid into your hair, tilting you back. There was nothing but tenderness in his eyes as he closed the gap between you. Lips brushed against lips, tasting, testing—it was excruciating agony, it was sweet release. The kiss sparked a fire in you and you burned for Azriel, arms wrapping around his neck, fingers tangling through his silky locks like you were trying to get lost in the dark paradise that was him with no desire to ever escape. 

Azriel pulled you into his lap, his lips never leaving yours. The way your bodies moved in perfect synchrony, melding together, melting together seamlessly made you think that maybe you were created just for this purpose. He was intoxicating; there was nothing more divine, nothing more sacred than the feel of his mouth against yours. Kissing him was an act of worship. 

You had the vague sense that you’ve never felt true hunger until Azriel’s tongue slipped past your parted lips and filled you with lust and desire so strong it made you feel like a depraved hedonist. There was Azriel and only Azriel. 

Desire was a lit match catching fire on a field soaked with gasoline. The need for Azriel was endless, like staring into an empty abyss and realizing for the first time in your life that you were finally seeing what lay inside this whole time. You were hungry. 

Azriel groaned as you rolled your hips against him. His hands found your waist, gripping you like his life depended on it. The gold dancing in his irises flickered to black. His eyes fluttered close as he nuzzled his nose against yours, reeling himself back to reality. 

Then, in a voice full of care and restraint, Azriel said, “We don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready to do. It’s your choice, my heart.” The words cracked your heart open, letting sunlight into the shadowy crevices. “From this point forward, it will always be your choice.”

You cupped his cheek, marveling at all that he was. “My entire life, every decision has been made for me. Other people have always told me how to dress, how to speak, how to act. Tonight is the first time that I actually get to choose something for myself. I want my first choice to be you, Azriel.” 

The words seemed to unleash something within the Prince of Hell. Azriel surged forward and kissed you, his mouth full of passion and heat. You arched into him and he took the opportunity to graze his teeth against the column of your throat before flicking his tongue over the sensitive spot just below your ear. 

“I choose you, too,” he said softly. 

You smiled, tugging him down until you both tumbled against the mattress. Azriel pinned you underneath him, taking his time to stroke your curves, his featherlight touch awakening goosebumps along your arms. He peeled the dress off of you gently, kissing your collarbones, your breasts, your stomach, and your thighs. You helped him out of his clothes, peeling layer after layer until the two of you were bare to one another. 

You had no idea where to look first. Azriel was a work of art, a sculpture carved out of marble, every inch of him perfectly crafted by the gods themselves. The forbidden fruit seducing you to taste, to bite, to savor. He shuddered as you pressed your palm against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart as if it were your own. 

“You will be my undoing,” the Prince of Hell declared. “I would worship at your altar tonight. You are my own little piece of heaven.”

“I don’t want to be your heaven,” you said, voice stern and unwavering. “I want to be your hell, because their god is the only one who has ever answered my prayers.”

Azriel looked down at you as though you were a god yourself. A treasure that he would give his life to guard and cherish. With your legs wrapped around his trim waist, Azriel hovered above you. His gaze was contemplative, searching for any sign of hesitation. 

When he found none, Azriel kissed you gently while easing his way in. You were wet, soaking with arousal, and the length of him stretching your walls was a welcomed sting. He kept his eyes on you as his cock filled you deliciously. You moaned into his mouth and the sound seemed to completely unravel him. 

It was ruin and restoration, life and death, pain and pleasure combined in one single act. Azriel twined your fingers together, holding your arms above your head as he made love to you. His wings flared behind his back just as his shadows swirled above his head, encircling him like a crown of smoke. The Prince of Hell was a dark god. He was night and mist and shadow. The space between the stars. 

You would pray to him a thousand times over. 

“Gods,” you moaned, the word falling from your lips like a solemn prayer. “It feels too good. You are too good, Azriel.”

He kissed you deeply, fusing your very souls together. A white hot heat seized your body and suddenly you were careening towards the cliffs, falling hand in hand with Azriel. The Prince of Hell growled into your mouth, his forehead pressed against yours as you both surrendered to release. 

For a moment, nothing else in the realm existed besides the two of you. 

Azriel opened his eyes and it was like staring directly into the sun after centuries of darkness. With a soft smile, he pulled you into his arms and kissed your temple. Like pieces of a puzzle falling into place, your limbs locked and something within you just clicked. 

This was right. 

He was right.

You nestled against Azriel like you belonged there all along. “You never told me.”

“Told you what, my heart?”

“How the story of the girl and her raven ends.”

Azriel smiled, pulling you into his arms. “It doesn’t. They just find a new beginning instead.”

taglist: @viradeity @moony-thoughts @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @demirunner @swansworth @heart-defendor @momlo @mali22 @roselensage @searchingford@nessianxgwynriel@azriels-angels@brekkershadowsinger@morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @mattte-black @marina468 @lillithathecathecat @highladyofillyria

[astralnymphh]

born of flora and fauna 𓇢𓆸 | ellie williams | series guide⛧

𓇢𓆸𓍢ִ໋- knight!ellie x princess!reader AU guide ⛧ (teaser II.)

✧˖ ° 🕯 bright blessings!

𓍢ִ໋-;this is purely a guide to my upcoming series, detailed with important places and their names, descriptions and reference photos. i'll also include short excerpts of ellie's backstory in this fic plus the readers. vol 0./the prologue is making quick progress so i wanna get y'all excited as long as it doesn't flop (ALSO I FIGURED OUT GRADIENT TEXT FINALLY!! kinda.. im too lazy to fix anything) cw: literally only one mention of mature themes. nothing crazy. the actual series on the other hand.. will be SMUTful

𓆸𓍢ִ໋-; castle maelony

𓍢ִ໋-; mount of the regal family, bejeweled in a facade that masks a strident haunting no king would wish to dig up from the catacombs lining the roots of this limestone beast. 𓆸𓍢ִ໋-; istenad

𓍢ִ໋-; core of the meadowland, visible from far mountain boundaries of all directions. adorned with dreamy spires and coliseums, to markets and common houses, every mother and their kin covet this kingdom. 𓆸𓍢ִ໋-; dunwich

𓍢ִ໋-; ellie, a knight bound in hide and chainmail, derived and nurtured in the prairie village of dunwich, where the fertile seasons prove flaxen of corn and the trickling sweat of every farmhand turns to gold. any newborn granted to this quaint village is fated to form calloused hands with labor written in their palm lines as time flows.

𓆸𓍢ִ໋-; glade 'ionspire'

𓍢ִ໋-; a front line of trees encircling this unmapped forest, conceals a beautiful loch only few souls venture to. it happens that a determined princess can be caught galivanting about with a weapon, playing her dreamt up persona of a maiden warrior she only dawns in private. 𓆸𓍢ִ໋-; clementine cottage

𓍢ִ໋-; no home is without its glamour of hearth. a picturesque getaway straying from the bustling streets of instenad tempts such who fiend for freedom. nights under the brilliant spangled sky in this cottage have been ones of love, tangled in bed, vowing to your beloved in a hysteria of lust.

(and there she is!! im really excited to get this fully fledged out its gonna be a JUICY series promise even for being centered in medieval times it is quite deviously lustful !!!)

[siriannatan]

Touch Starved - Arknights

I apologise to all my non-arknights followers but goats got on my mind once more

References for any interested non-arknights players: Ebenholz Lessing

I was too tired to think of a better title so it might change at some point, but here are some points that were important to me while writing for this 1. They deserve to be horny teens 2. I need more badass moments for Lessing 3. I find Fremont shutting Voice of Terra/ Mundane up just for a few weeks - in essence being unable to actually remove it - is funny (plus he deserves to be humbled for cussing near Lessing, I will try not to imagine this boy's vocabulary range) 4. Horn logistics are hard

Lessing and Franz's friendship was far from normal. They argued and butted heads - sometimes pretty much literally - constantly. They'd often end the day eating separately. Stewing in anger just to ignore whatever they argued the next morning. But they never ended like this.

Pressed against the heavy wooden desk in Graf's office. Luckily it was cleared of day's paperwork before their argument started. Ebenholz half-sitting on the desk and half clinging onto Lessing. Hands loosely resting on Graf's hips as... they kissed. Made out really. All because Lessing wanted to shut him up. And that led them to the Graf's bed and things that went far beyond the scope of their relationship.

It was still on rambling in his brain after a rather awkward week of being confined to the spire due to almost non-stop rain. He had no clue how to stop thinking about it. Ebenholz was objectively very attractive with his clothing on. Naked? Even with the crystals of oripathy marring the almost perfect skin of his dominant arm and some faint scars of the stressful life of being the last surviving relative of the Witch King... He was more of a piece of art than a person. But that might be the more poetic (more Leithanien) part of Lessing's brain speaking.

A sudden, fast and short knock on his door had Lessing almost physically jump away from his inappropriate thoughts of his friend and technically employer. Thinking it's a maid with some sudden update to Ebenholz's schedule he didn't bother with a shirt. The Spire staff preferred talking to him over interrupting Ebenholz's evening so most maids were met with him in a not suitable for chatting state of dress. Muttering what they needed him to know, avoiding looking before scurrying off. But it was no maid.

Outside his door, shuffling awkwardly was no one else but Graf Urtica himself. Ebenholz with just his silk pyjama pants hanging low on his thin hips. A blanket draped over his shoulders. Hair loose from the usual ribbon holding it tightly together. Lessing was half convinced it was a dream. At least until Ebenholz looked up at him with those magenta eyes with his usual, ever-present annoyance, distrust and sternness not present.

"We need to talk," Ebenholz said, pushing in past Lessing before he could ask for any explanation.

"Can't it wait until morning?" Lessing grimaced, just then realising his wandering mind's fantasies caused quite obvious in his own sleep pants issue.

"Nein," Ebenholz shook his head, ebony curls calling out to Lessing for his touch, like some siren song from fairytales. To feel the silky smoothness once more. To pull to coax tiny moans and gasps from the proud Graf. 

"What's so important then?" Lessing asked shoving down all the inappropriate urges. 

"Week ago," Ebenholz started as he discarded his blanket and to Lessing's shock pushed up against him. And Lessing stepped back. Until his back hit the door. "I can't stop thinking about you," he sighed, but not in an annoyed-by-the-fact way. It could only be called 'dreamy sigh'. Hands exploring Lessing's chest. Barely caressing, as if he was ready for Lessing to protest at any moment.

"Okay, let's talk first," Lessing decided and practically carried Ebenholz to a couch by a fireplace, neither of which he ever used but the latter of which he quickly started. With the help of Ebenholz snapping his fingers to start the fire faster. "So what brought it all out?"

"It's back. The old man didn't remove it, not fully at least," Ebenholz said quietly. "It's quieter around you for some reason," he carried on, one hand finding Lessing's arm to just be there, keeping contact with a pained expression twisting his pretty face.

"So you want to sleep with me because it'll shut the Witch King up?" Lessing sighed. So much for hoping Ebenholz might actually... not that he ever have such hopes.

"Partially," Ebenholz confessed, suddenly climbing into Lessing's lap. "But mostly because you're frankly hot despite your soulless expressions," he pushed back the hair almost always covering the right side of Lessing's face to kiss the jagged scar there. "You're very distracting herr Lessing," he smiled and proceeded to pepper Lessing's face in feather-light kisses. Stopping right at the corner of his guard's lips. Lessing hesitated for just a second before closing the distance. Just for a brief moment since neither of them really breathed properly in the last few minutes.

"I'm shocked you lasted a whole week," Lessing chuckled, head spinning slightly as they parted to catch a breath.

"I had to do some... research," Ebenholz muttered into Lessing's shoulder, shuddering as Lessing gently ran one finger down his spine.

Touch starved. He thought bitterly. Though he probably shouldn't be shocked considering the Urtica family's history. Ebenholz's personal history. Lessing didn't mention it. Instead deciding to play into the current mood. "So you should have an idea what you'd like to try, no?" he asked, gently squeezing Ebenholz's thigh. Just barely not touching his ass.

Ebenholz squirmed in his lap. Gasping as Lessing gently scratched the trail he previously traced along his spine. 

"We already did it before, there's no need to be shy. Don't you always say I'm boring? I'm sure you've read some interesting things," Lessing teased, his nails travelling back down along Ebenholz's spine. Just to lightly scratch at the base of his tail.

"Ri...you" Ebenholz barely mumbled as his spine arched into Lessing.

"Louder, mein Schatz, I didn't quite get it," Lessing hummed but did stop teasing Ebenholz to give him a second to properly respond.

Ebenholz was silent for a moment. "I want to ride you..." He finally said. Still quiet but Lessing got the whole thing now.

"Good job," Lessing praised and gave his Graf a brief kiss before getting up with him still in his arms. Ebenholz yelped and flailed to grab onto Lessing. "I think the bed will be better for that," Lessing decided and carried Ebenholz to his bed. 

"Bit of a warning next time," Ebenholz mumbled as Lessing carefully lied him out on the bed. "You're not..."

"I'm not letting you do this before you're prepared, I'm not that mean," Lessing shook his head. "Would you rather do it yourself or have me do it?"

"You..." Ebenholz said, blushing deeply. So cute, Lessing thought before leaning in to kiss him.

As he pulled back Lessing realised something he totally missed since he moved into this room. His mirror, which once more he rarely used, was in a perfect spot, the corners of his mouth rising slightly as he met his own reflection. "There's something I'd like to try," he offered as he pulled Ebenholz's sleep pants off.

"Mhm, sure, but what?" Ebenholz asked curling up. 

"Would you look into the mirror," Lessing hummed as he gently guided Ebenholz to look at the mirror, "while I prep you?" he finished his question.

Ebenholz was silent for a moment. A worryingly long moment. Lessing was ready to be called a pervert or something. "Sure," he finally said but avoided looking directly at Lessing as he let his pants fall to the ground. "Thank you," he said and gave Ebenholz yet another kiss. "Just one more thing," he hummed.

Lessing quickly turned on the nightstand lamps and turned off the main light of the room. For the mood, he said when Ebenholz inquired while settling to kneel comfortably with a good view of the mirror. 

"Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are? Well, no one else probably ever saw you like this," Lessing smiled, very slightly but he was sure Ebenholz caught it in the mirror even with the low light.

"Only a few times, more than likely lying, right before trying to kill or kidnap me," Ebenholz huffed but practically melted as Lessing pressed up against his back. Bare skin against bare skin.

"A shame, you are really pretty," Lessing chuckled as his hands freely explored Graf's chest, stopping just to tease his nipples. "Really, really pretty, especially your eyes," Lessing for once let himself voice his thought as he gently pulled Ebenholz's hair to make him look at the mirror. Ebenholz tried to shake his head but Lessing tightened his grip on the ebony locks. "The prettiest person I ever saw," he said with a bit wider smile.

"F-fine, if you say so, just please, stop teasing me," Ebenholz's blush was impossibly dark. Voice shaking but his magenta eyes stayed on the mirror.

Lessing could not help but move on with a request worded like that. "Be careful with your wrists," he warned as he let Ebenholz support himself with his arms. Leaning forward ass sticking out. "And no holding back noises, no one's supposed to be around at this hour," he added as he quietly slicked his fingers with lube. Whoever thought it'd be funny to put that in his drawers might have had future sight. Or just thought everyone his age had only one thing on their mind.

Well, with Ebenholz around how could he not let his imagination go wild a little bit? But even when he dared let it go as wild as his imagination could he was nowhere close to this. Soft, marred with a few old scars skin shifting as the Graf moaned as Lessing slowly pushed one slick finger in. 

Quiet, slowly louder and louder moans and whines had Lessing's ears twitching in an attempt trying to not miss even the slightest noise.

"I almost forgot, if I'm worried you're too far gone I'll call your first name if you need a break..."

"Witch..." Ebenholz chuckled between moans. Lessing joined for a brief moment.

"Good job, you say that and I'll stop and check on you," he praised, kissing any skin he could reach. Ebenholz's neck and shoulder. He kissed lower and lower until he was certain any marks he's leave would be easy enough to hide and bit down.

"Genug... Lessing... Bitte... It's enough just..."

"Are you completely..." Lessing groaned. Ebenholz was too pretty for even him to fully control himself. 

"Ya, ya, completely," Ebenholz nodded far too eagerly as Lessing pulled his fingers out. 

"Verdammt, Franz slow down, we have to be able to walk tomorrow," Lessing hissed through gritted teeth.

To his credit, Ebenholz did a couple of shaking breaths before speaking again. "Ya, though... I'm not sure..."

"We can save your fantasy for tomorrow night when you're not this desperate or something," Lessing shrugged. "Try something else you can think of." It was a challenge to focus on anything with Ebenholz Leaning on him.

"We can carry on like this but with..." he hesitated but Lessing remained silent. Mainly too stunned Ebenholz could speak like this at all. "...with your cock..." he shockingly finished in one breath and quickly moved on. "You should be able to hold me up with these strong arms, no?"

"Do I even want to know where you learned to talk like this?" Lessing asked as he quickly got himself ready.

"Books, and later," Ebenholz's explanation made sense. Graf Urtica did not have much chance to experience much. 

"No complaining anything hurts in the morning," Lessing warned one last time

...

Some time later, after a bath, in Ebenholz's room. Mostly because the Graf was too impatient for Lessing to clean the bed... Lessing lay on his back, slowly dozing off with Ebenholz cuddled up to his side, one arm and leg tossed over his guard. His other arm folded under a pillow holding his head up to stop any accidental horn injuries.

"What kind of books do you have in this tower?" he could not help but as he felt that Ebenholz was not asleep. Mostly by a delicate finger tracing some of his scars. Not something most auditing students, even of Ludwigs-Uniwesitat could boast. But not all of them had the 'honour' of being Fremont's aide. 

"I had to quickly... source some I remembered from the book club on Rhodes Island... Some operators thought it'd be a funny initiation to lighten the mood, younger members were not present at that particular meeting," he chuckled dryly and yawned. 

"I better void them, with all the vocabulary old man made me familiar with..." Lessing sighed. Ebenholz chuckled at that. Well, his own mouth could at times rival the old lich. "We should sleep, Guten Nacht, Franz," he yawned and closed his eyes.

"Guten Nacht, Lessing," Ebenholz yawned back shuffling as close as physically possible. 

Maybe having to duel every nearby noble with what could only be called a toothpick compared to his usual sword. No hate on anyone specializing in that kind of blade, just not something he's used to. Was worth the hassle. He'd think on the traditional uniform of the head guard of the Graf Urtica. 

_______________

I might at some point decide to write a follow-up chapter just to stuff Lessing into a formal uniform... Pls, Arknights give him one as a skin.

Thinking about it now. Did Fremont pick up Lessing as his helper because of his family's connection to Witch King's family? Probably not since they were just attendants but it would be funny if he picked him up just to train him up to later push him onto Ebenholz like 'Here take this one, you look like you need someone to remind you to eat'.

[faeriekougraz]

💎 Lofty Skies 💎

New ref sheet for a pretty old oc of mine! His name is Spire and he was a massive dreamy for ages till i managed to get him 🥹

[sandimexicola]

The now extinct woolly-rhino

DALL-E3 prompt: A highly detailed and fantastical scene featuring two rhinoceros-like creatures in a surreal landscape. The adult rhinoceros has a thick, fluffy, light-colored fur with pinkish hues around its head and mane, and large, kind eyes. The horn on its nose is prominent but softer in shape, with large, round ears adding a gentle, approachable look. The juvenile rhinoceros, standing in the foreground, has similar fluffy fur and a curious, playful expression. The background shows towering, spire-like mountains in a fantastical landscape, with a sky of soft blues and light grays, creating a dreamy, ethereal atmosphere. The creatures' expressive faces and the mystical environment add to the enchanting and serene mood of the scene.

[batbitestoys]

I almost forgot to post this beautiful near clear 31 Spire!

These colorshift pigments are just so dreamy 💙

[vox-anglosphere]

The illuminated spire of Lincoln College library - Oxford University

Oxford

[enkisstories]

Ah, summer! Dreamy dates next to fragrant flower beds, not caring beyond the next moment!

And watching your friends do shady stuff from the corner of your eyes, apparently.

AD-803: "What's going on here? And don't tell me you lost your keys! You arrived in Black Spire only recently. This cannot be your house."

Finn: *wink, wink*

Armitage: "Is there a problem, constable?"

AD-803: "Attempted breaking and entering."

Armitage: "Oh, that? Nah. Would I stand here all casually, kissing my girlfriend, if a crime got committed right in my line of sight?”

Ad-803: “That is indeed strange. May I see your identifi...”

Armitage (talking into him): “The break-in is actually part of a confidential operation we are doing as part of our efforts to repel the traitor Agnon from this system!"

AD-803: "Together with the rebel rabble?"

Armitage: "That's what "having an alliance" means. And who better to perform the questionable tasks than the rebel filth, that doesn't know any better anyway? Or would YOU like to break into a random house in one of Black Spire's better neighborhoods?"

AD-803: "No, of course not. Still, we weren't informed..."

Armitage: "Why would I inform a constable about our longterm plans? And why didn't I hear a "For the glory of the First Order I'd break into ANY house YESTERDAY, if you ordered me to, Sir!"?"

AD-803: "Err..."

Armitage: "You runt will report to Lieutenant Chen immediately for a thorough loyalty evaluation! Talking back to your Grand-Marshall in the middle of a civil war, really, man? Looks like I found myself an Agnon-sympathizer here."

Armitage: Finn and Poe better have a good explanation for this.

---

Note: We saw AD-803 before here and here when Kylo had him and MW-158 fetch Daniel.

[rhianna]

THE SHWAY DAGOHN. GWENDOLIN TRENCH GASCOIGNE.

THE “Shway Dagohn” at Rangoon, or Golden Pagoda, is one of the most ancient and venerated shrines which exists, and it certainly should hold a high place among the beautiful and artistic monuments of the world, for it is exquisite in design and form. Its proportions and height are simply magnificent; wide at the base, it shoots up 370 feet, tapering gradually away until crowned by its airy golden Htee, or umbrella-shaped roof. This delicate little structure is studded profusely with precious stones and hung round with scores of tiny gold and jewelled bells, which, when swung lightly by the soft breeze, give out the tenderest and most mystic of melodies. The Htee was the gift of King Mindohn-Min, and it is said to have cost the enormous sum of fifty thousand pounds.

The great pagoda is believed by the faithful to have been erected in 588 B. C.; but for many centuries previous to that date the spot where the pagoda now stands was held sacred, as the relics of three preceding Buddhas were discovered there when the two Talaing brothers (the founders of the Great Pagoda) brought the eight holy hairs of Buddha to the Thehngoothara Hill, the spot where the pagoda now stands. Shway Yoe (Mr. Scott) says that it also possesses93 in the Tapanahteik, or relic chamber, of the pagoda the drinking cup of Kaukkathan, the “thengan,” or robe, of Gawnagohng, and the “toungway,” or staff, of Kathapah. It is therefore so holy that pilgrims visit this shrine from far countries, such as Siam, and even the Corea. The height of the pagoda was originally only twenty-seven feet, but it has attained its present proportions by being constantly encased in bricks. It is a marvellously striking structure, raising up its delicate, glittering head from among a wondrous company of profusely carved shrines and small temples, whose colour and cunning workmanship make fit attendants to this stupendous monument.

It is always a delight to one’s eyes to gaze upon its glittering spire, always a fairy study of artistic enchantment; but perhaps if it has a moment when it seems clothed with peculiar and almost ethereal, mystic attraction, it is in the early morning light, when the air has been bathed by dewdrops and is of crystal clearness, and when that scorching Eastern sun has only just begun to send forth his burning rays. I would say go and gaze on the pagoda at the awakening hour, standing there on the last spur of the Pegu Hills, and framed by a luxuriant tropical bower of foliage. The light scintillates and glistens like a myriad of diamonds upon its golden surface, and the dreamy beauty of its glorious personality seems to strike one dumb with deep, unspoken reverence and admiration.

Nestling on one side of it are a number of Pohn-gyee Kyoung (monasteries) and rest-houses for pilgrims. All these are quaint, carved, and gilded edifices from which you see endless yellow-robed monks issuing. The monasteries94 situated at the foot of the great pagoda seem peculiarly harmonious, as if they would seek protection and shekel beneath the wing of their great mother church.

The pagoda itself is approached on four sides by long flights of steps, but the southern is the principal entrance and that most frequented. At the base of this stand two gigantic lions made of brick and plastered over, and also decorated with coloured paint; their office is to guard the sacred place from nats (evil spirits) and demons, the fear of which seems ever to haunt the Burman’s mind and be a perpetual and endless torment to him. From this entrance the steps of the pagoda rise up and are enclosed by a series of beautifully carved teak roofs, supported by wood and masonry pillars. There are several quaint frescoes of Buddha and saints depicted upon the ceiling of these roofs, but the steps which they cover are very rugged and irregular. It is, indeed, a pilgrimage to ascend them, although the foreigner is allowed to retain his shoes. The faithful, of course, leave theirs at the foot of the steps.

95

Why should Providence allow so awful an affliction as leprosy to fall upon His creatures? Could any crime, however heinous, be foul enough for such a punishment? These are the thoughts that flit through your brain; and then, as you pass on, wonder takes their place at the quaint beauty of the edifice, and lastly intense and wild admiration takes entire possession of you, and all is forgotten in the glorious nearness of the great Golden Pagoda.

On either side of the rugged steps there are rows of most picturesque little stalls, at which are sold endless offerings to be made to Buddha—flowers of every shade and hue, fruit, glowing bunches of yellow plantains and pepia, candles, wondrous little paper devices and flags, and, lastly, the gold leaf, which the faithful delight to place upon the beloved pagoda. It is looked upon as a great act of merit to expend money in thus decorating the much loved and venerated shrine....

As you mount slowly up the steep uneven steps of the pagoda, turn for a moment and glance back at the scene. It is a pagoda feast, and the place is crowded with the faithful from all parts, who have come from far and near to present offerings and perform their religious observances. It is an entrancing picture, a marvel of colour and picturesqueness—see, the stalls are laid out with their brightest wares, and the crowd is becoming greater every moment. Look at that group of laughing girls, they have donned their most brilliant tamehns, and dainty shawls, and the flowers in their hair are arranged with infinite coquettishness; behind them are coming a dazzling company of young men in pasohs of every indescribable shade; perchance they are96the lovers of the girls whom they are following so eagerly, and they are bearing fruit and flowers to present to Buddha. Beyond them again are some yellow-robed Pohn-gyees; they are supposed to shade their eyes from looking upon women with their large lotus-shaped fans, but to-day they are gazing about them more than is permitted, and are casting covert glances of admiration on some of those dainty little maidens. Behind them again are a white-robed company, they are nuns, and their shroud-like garments flow around them in long graceful folds. Their hair is cut short, and they have not so joyous an expression upon their faces as the rest of the community, and they toil up the steep steps a trifle wearily. Behind them again are a little toddling group of children, with their little hands full of bright glowing flowers and fruits.

Shall we follow in the crowd and see where the steps lead? It is a wondrous study, the effects of light and shade; look at that sunbeam glinting in through the roof and laying golden fingers on the Pohn-gyees’ yellow robes, and turning the soft-hued fluttering silks into brilliant luminous spots of light.

At last we have arrived at the summit! Let us pause and take breath morally and physically before walking round the great open-paved space in the centre of which rises the great and glorious pagoda. There it stands towering up and up, as though it would fain touch the blue heaven; it is surrounded by a galaxy of smaller pagodas, which seem to be clustering lovingly near their great high priest; around these again are large carved kneeling elephants, and deep urn-shaped vessels, which are placed97there to receive the offerings of food brought to Buddha. The crows and the pariah dogs which haunt the place will soon demolish these devout offerings, and grow fat upon them as their appearance testifies; but this, curiously, does not seem in the least to annoy the giver. He has no objection to seeing a fat crow or a mangy dog gorging itself upon his offering, as the feeding of any animal is an act of merit, which is the one thing of importance to a Burman. The more acts of merit that he can accomplish in this life, the more rapid his incarnations will be in the next.

There are draped about the small golden pagodas and round the base of the large one endless quaint pieces of woven silk; these are offerings from women, and must be completed in one night without a break.

On the outer circle of this large paved space are a multitude of shrines, enclosing hundreds of images of Buddha. You behold Buddha standing, you behold him sitting, you behold him reclining; you see him large, you see him small, you see him medium size; you see him in brass, in wood, in stone, and in marble. Many of these statues are simply replicas of each other, but some differ slightly, though the cast of features is always the same, a placid, amiable, benign countenance, with very long lobes to the ears, which in Burmah are supposed to indicate the great truthfulness of the person who possesses them. Most of the images have suspended over them the royal white umbrella, which was one of the emblems of Burma, and only used in Thebaw’s time to cover Buddha, the king, and the lord white elephant.

Among Pagodas and Fair Ladies (London, 1896).

[lunarsands]

ALSMP Fanfic: Wherever These Flowers May Grow Ch 2

Characters: goddess!PearlescentMoon, actual!angel!Sausage, starborne!Scott; reintroducing: floran!Scott and introducing: floran!Sausage, with special guest Empires SMP S2 Joel and a cameo by Origins SMP CaptainSparklez

Relationships: MythicalSausage/Scott Smajor

Tags: Canon Divergent, scosage, fluff

Warnings: Character Death (temporary as usual with this series), a tiny bit of angst

(Sequel to Echoing Through To You, When The Skies Cry, Until The Blood Moon Descends, and Then We’ll Rewrite the Stars)

(Also available on Ao3!)

Summary: Pearl sends Sausage and Scott on a mission to help out on another mortal world different from their old one. Scott finds himself returned to an old set of powers; Sausage gets new ones which, as it turns out, he has some trouble controlling. It’s not exactly a honeymoon trip, but they do meet a nice new godling while there.

[ Chapter One ]

Chapter Two

 When morning arrived, Sausage was surprised by how refreshing it felt to have those first rays of sunlight reach him. It was like going straight from knock-out tired to wide awake. It was no wonder Scott had always been up at the crack of dawn when he had been a floran in the other world. “Mmm, that’s so nice and warm! I don’t even feel like I want breakfast or anything! Maybe a little water, though,” he added thoughtfully, as Scott made the vines lower them to the ground before disassembling the hammock and returning to normal placement.

“We’ll find some on the way,” Scott said, although he was now standing there gazing at him with a dreamy smile.

“What?”

“Umm, nothing. This way.” Scott took his hand, his expression soft, then they started off for the day’s trek. Sausage had a light-hearted smile of his own as he squeezed Scott’s hand, and for a while he stopped worrying about the overgrowth he left behind with each step.

.

A short while later they reached the edge of the mesa, with red sand as far as the eye could see and spires of terracotta rising all around. Sausage ran ahead to see if any greenery would spring up, and sighed loudly in relief when the sand stayed bare. “Hurray! Okay, good, I was worried I was going to cause some kind of floral apocalypse or something!” He laughed nervously.

Scott eyed the sprigs of jungle grass that had suddenly begun to creep out onto the sand toward Sausage. “Don’t count that possibility out just yet…”

Sausage groaned. “Aw, come on, now! I’m still trying my best to not make it happen!”

“We’ll go further away where you won’t get distracted by what is growing, and then I’ll help you figure it out.” Scott took his hand again to drag him away from the jungle’s border, although this time he did so mostly in order to feel out how much power Sausage was leaking into the ground.

It felt much like the light of his halo when Scott had been experiencing the side effects of winter. The man simply radiated rampant energy. He supposed that was all part of his personality, but he would still try to help him get it under control. Maybe it simply needed to be redirected…

“Hey, look, more ruins!” Sausage slipped his hand free as they came around one of the larger spires and ran over to begin investigating. It was the architect in him, Scott thought fondly with a smile. He did give pause, however, when he saw just how big the area of the ruins was once he took a better look around. It appeared as if dozens of colorful if not eroded towers had fallen, with one particularly large building looking like it had been split down the middle.

Scott hurried after him. “Sausage, be careful – this looks old, but the ground could still be unstable.”

“Yeah, I know – but the sand has been filling it in.” Sausage pointed to where the red sand had been blown by the desert winds to pile against the base of the structures and over most of the fallen onion domes as well. They still picked their way through carefully, until they reached a spot where the mesa ended and there was a dip toward gravel and stone.

Scott’s gaze followed the line of a crack going from the mesa out across the empty gray expanse until he saw some other buildings – more towers, which were tilted, white and topped by faded pink domes lined with prismarine. Sausage joined him a moment later; and then a moment after that, some greenery began to poke out of the stone, although it wilted soon after. Scott moved closer to investigate. “Sea grass… This used to be an ocean. If I had to guess, shifting tectonic plates caused it to drain, and affected those towers out there.” He pointed.

“I, ah, don’t think I want to try to go out there and check those ones out. These are enough to explore around in, you know? And this is exactly what we need so I can learn, right?”

“Yeah, it’ll do. And if we want to check your progress, we can come back here to see how much sea grass you accidentally summon.” He smiled teasingly while Sausage grumbled.

They returned to the ruins and chose a space away from any gaps in the ground. Scott clapped his hands together. “Okay, we’ll start with focusing on what you can already grow on yourself. Put out your hand and think about growing a fern frond on your palm.”

“That sounds weird.”

“…Imagine you’re holding a feather,” Scott suggested, realizing that floran logic might not immediately help.

Sausage held out a hand then pinched his fingers together. A small frond grew, winding its way up between his thumb and index finger. He grinned. “Hey, it worked!”

“Good. Think about it falling off – drop the feather.”

Sausage opened his fingers but the frond stayed. He pinched it again, giving himself the mental image of a feather, then tried turning his hand downward to ‘drop’ it. When it continued to remain attached, he shook his hand rapidly. “I mean… I’m not used to consciously dropping feathers when they’re attached to my wings. They molt on their own.”

Scott moved closer and clasped the fern-bearing hand. “I’m going to try something. Let me know if this hurts.” He grasped the middle of the fern and mentally asked it to let go, as if it was the same as one planted in dirt. The stem separated from Sausage’s hand. Scott held the frond up with an inquiring look.

“Nope, didn’t hurt. I barely felt that. What, uh, does that mean if I grow something else?”

“I think you’ll need to ask it to remove itself.”

“But… you didn’t say anything.”

“Not out loud. I think it, and the thought reaches the plant through floran energies.”

“What.”

“Like you pulling a flaming sword out of thin air. Or, I assume that’s how that works. You ask it to appear.”

“That’s more like reaching into extra pocketspace.”

“Oh. Hmm…” Scott tried to think of what else to compare it to. “Well, like Pearl calling on you from the other side of the realm, and you do what she says because of that connection.”

“Huh. Okay. I guess I’ll try it out.”

.

They spent the day practicing, with Sausage serving as the only surface for plants to grow on, ranging from producing more of the same type of flowers he already had in his hair to summoning whole other ones. Scott was relieved that nothing grew out of control; he wouldn’t want Sausage to end up completely covered in blossoms or foliage.

When the afternoon began to wane, they moved to poke around the ruins a bit, looking for a stable piece of architecture to shelter under for the night. They chose one of the smaller onion domes that was laying on its side with only a minimal drift of sand blocking the opening. Scott was starting to miss the feeling of dirt under his feet, but it was necessary to remain there for a little longer. If it ended up bothering him too much, he figured they could always head back to the jungle.

“Meh. Sand in my fronds,” Sausage grumbled as he tried to get comfortable laying on his back. “Nope. Hammock was better.” He huffed in annoyance and rolled over onto his stomach, putting his face down on his arms. Then, muffled: “Nope. Sand in my mouth.”

Scott laughed quietly. He waved a hand over his arm repeatedly, growing a long strip of moss. He removed it then folded it up into the approximation of a square. “Here. Use a pillow. It will dry out by morning, but it’s better than planting your face in the ground.”

“That sounds like some kind of nature horror stuff that I don’t even want to think about, oh no.” Sausage pushed himself up to sit back on his knees, then accepted the improvised pillow. “Thanks. I guess I should try doing that?” he asked, watching Scott fold up another one.

“Mm, maybe after more practice. You might end up making a whole blanket. I don’t think I want to spend more than one night out here, anyway. Florans rest better with soil nearby.”

“Oh. Is that why I feel kinda itchy? And not from the sand in my fronds.” He twitched his shoulders as if to shake off the annoying grains.

“Ah, so you did notice. I was wondering if you would, since you aren’t used to everything florans experience.”

Sausage yawned. The sky outside was steadily darkening. “You’ll have to tell me in the morning…” He settled onto his side, snuggling his head against the moss pillow. “Oh, yeah, this is much better… Good night!”

~*~

Sunrise woke them, and although the warm light was streaming into the dome unfettered, something was making a rhythmic tink, tink noise off of it. Sausage wandered over to the opening and poked his head out, peering upward. “Uh, Scott? It’s raining.”

The other floran was rubbing the sleep from his eyes and didn’t quite catch on. “Huh? But it doesn’t rain in mesas…”

“There is exactly one cloud. Right above us. And... I think… someone is standing on it.”

That got Scott’s attention. He came over to look, squinting upward. “If we’re florans, then it makes sense for others with powers to be here. Might be a subtype of thunderborn.”

A voice called down to them, “Did someone say thunder?” The cloud grew darker and lightning crackled along the underside. A small boom of thunder followed. The two ducked back into the dome, just in case.

The cloud lowered into view, but the figure standing upon it was much taller than even the dome, so only the legs and bottom of a short chiton could be seen. Sandaled feet stepped off onto the sand, then the person leaned over to look inside. “How’s it goin’, fellas?” A face with brown eyes and a green stripe in dark hair grinned in at them. “Hello, I’m Joel, local thunder god. Thought I’d check in on things. Although, yuck, standing on the ground is weird. Also, this hurts my neck, so why don’t you come out here and we’ll have a chat.”

The two florans glanced at each other, then Sausage took Scott’s hand and led the way out. The godling sat down on the cloud as if to not tower over them too much. Scott smiled with some amusement as Sausage fell right back into his old habit of putting himself in front of potential danger first, despite Scott being the more experienced floran.

Joel looked at their clasped hands. “Well, isn’t that kind of cute. I heard you’re the new nature sprites in town.”

“Florans, actually,” Scott corrected. “We’re only here to help.”

Joel muttered under his breath, “Doesn’t look like you’re doing much to me.” Then, louder, he said, “So, what’s the plan for here? Were you going to turn this into some kind of oasis? I could probably help out, too. You need more water? It looks like you might need water. Since, to my knowledge, plants need that to grow.”

Sausage let go of Scott’s hand and rubbed the back of his neck, realizing they had possibly been wasting time while he struggled to get a handle on things. “Well, we really only came out here because I’m more powerful than we expected.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Wow, that’s very humble of you to say.”

Sausage bristled. “Hey, I can’t help it! I used to be a seraph before we got here! Very powerful angels, if you didn’t know!”

“Right, right… So, what are your names, so that I’m not calling you ‘Floran One’ and ‘Floran Two’?”

“I’m Sausage, this is Scott. He was a starborne. Y’know, also powerful, moving the stars themselves—”

“Yeah, I know about those. I remember getting complaints from them when we blocked up the sky at night while they were trying to help sailors navigate. As if they were above us, when we control the actual atmosphere.”

The florans traded looks again, mutually uncertain about the pronoun change. “A-Anyway,” Sausage stammered, “I needed some practice first, then we were going to get to work.”

Scott eyed the cloud. “Although, now that you’ve mentioned it, some extra rain wouldn’t hurt. We’re supposed to do some terraforming, too, and if we’re going to transform barren areas, that means rerouting rivers.”

Joel chuckled once. “Part of us thinks you aren’t meant to turn the entire planet into a lush paradise. That part would be me, with my own opinions. Deserts and mesas still have their purpose. I think this world’s overseer meant to fix the broken parts, or heal over the scars in the land – whatever way you want to phrase it – with your piteous floran powers. You’d never be as powerful as me, after all, but I can’t be bothered keeping track of how much rain each type of flower needs. But this particular place is only suffering from regular time and erosion. Like you say, a little extra water could change that. I can show you some really ugly spots.”

“Now who’s being humble,” Sausage muttered.

“Maybe just point us in the right direction,” Scott suggested. “Then we can fix up anything we happen to find on the way, and come back around if you decide to, say, dump a ton of rain over here.”

“I suppose I could do that. If you go back the way you came, on the other side of that jungle you were in, there are some uninhabitable plains to the west and then some mountains to the southeast of there. You’ll know them when you see them.”

Scott gave pause. “Wait, you’ve been watching us since the jungle?”

“Yeah, that’s where we first saw you walking around.”

Sausage blurted out, “Who is we?”

“Um. Rude.” Joel scoffed. “Never you mind.” He did, however, look uncomfortable for a second. “Anyway, I think it’s time to be getting to work. Don’t have all day to fix up a planet, and you’ve got some walking to do. I’m sure you plant-types aren’t interested in flying anywhere. I mean, you might fall through the cloud, and then what would I do?”

Sausage’s bottom lip wobbled, and Scott thought he might start some sobbing theatrics about his loss of wings, so he pushed his partner toward the far side of the dome. “Yeah, we’ll be on our way. Nice to meet you, I guess.”

Joel stood and waved as the cloud lifted up into the sky. He then zipped off, apparently not following through on the promise of rain.

“Weather gods. Right,” Sausage commented flatly.

“Don’t tell me that gave you flashbacks, too?”

“I couldn’t control rain, so not really.” Sausage flicked the fronds hanging close to his neck. “Let’s go. I’ll do some practicing on the way. I have a sudden urge to make myself useful.”

“You’re not going to let what he said get to you, are you? I honestly don’t think he was trying to rub it in. He barely knows anything about us. He’s probably used to lording over mortals. And we don’t really count as those, right?” Scott grinned and nudged him in the side with his elbow. “And now that you’ve got the hang of summoning whatever flowers you want, we can do what we love best – arranging a garden.”

Sausage smiled at him in response.

They casually made the journey back over the sands. When they neared the border Scott tilted his head a little, squinting with uncertainty. He jogged the rest of the way, then halted.

A lot more foliage had crept out onto the sand.

“Whoops…” Sausage put a hand to the back of his head. “Eh-heh. The plants really are going to keep coming to me.”

“Call this a field test, I guess.” Scott sighed, hoping all the practice had helped. He gestured for Sausage to walk ahead.

The other stepped over onto the actual dirt, a tentative look on his face. A small bit of the grass grew taller around his foot, but shrank back to normal height when he lifted it. He gave Scott a hopeful grin, then put a finger to his lips. “Shh, I need to think.”

Scott smiled with a brief chuckle and nodded. They set off again, with Sausage leaving minimal disruption in his wake this time. Scott decided the growth at the mesa’s edge must have happened overnight while Sausage was asleep and couldn’t consciously keep hold of the power he sent into the ground.

They should probably stick to spending nights in a tree for the time being.

.

By the next day they reached the other side of the jungle, emerging into the area that they had seen from the treetop and, presumably, was the one Joel had indicated. The soil was desiccated, most of the ground appearing gray, although it wasn’t all stone. The chasms littering the area were intimidating up close, but they cautiously investigated. With Sausage holding onto his arm for an extra anchor, Scott leaned over the side to get a look at what they were dealing with.

“Hey, so—remember how you said this looked like a lot of lava? That’s… not lava down there.”

“What else would it be?”

“I think it’s liquid redstone.”

“Okay… What do we do about that?”

Scott moved away from the edge and contemplated the distance between that particular chasm and where the jungle ended. “Well, you’ve learned to limit your power. Let’s see what happens when you cut loose. We can use roots to break through this tough ground and see if it will fill these in, burying all the redstone. We’ll probably end up with like a bunch of ditches in the process. But let’s start with one of them at time.”

He motioned for Sausage to follow him. He made sure they were within the boundary of the jungle before going to the closest tree. He waved his hand down the base of it and out over the grass. He kept his hand out as he turned to the ruined land. The ground started to buckle. He raised his hand slightly and the end of the root broke the surface so he could show Sausage what he was causing to happen. He then lowered his hand, and the root burrowed back into the soil.

Scott moved to line his arm up with the nearest chasm. The line of buckling soil continued to move until it reached the edge of the chasm. Scott flicked his hand sharply, then whipped it back and forth. They could hear the cracking sounds as the root thrashed, breaking off pieces of stone that tumbled down into the chasm. The light from the river of redstone was peppered with shadows as the debris landed in it.

Scott paused, waiting to see if that would accidentally set off some kind of adverse reaction, but after a moment the light went back to a solid glow. He smiled over at Sausage.

The former seraph rubbed his hands together. “Alright, let’s see!” He put both arms out, palms pointed at two different trees, then he thrust his arms forward. Scott nearly lost his balance as the ground heaved. Multiple raised lines appeared, speeding out across the ruined land. With a rumble, the affected roots burst upward out of one side of the chasm and shot across to the other, destroying the top edge in one pass. Sausage yanked his arms backward, and in a messy array the roots turned around, punching down into the next level of stone then back across the chasm.

He repeated the motions several times, wearing away that section and causing neighboring spots to start crumbling.

Scott summoned up a different root, making it grow to lift him up higher so he could watch the progress, leaning over the boundary of the jungle. Within minutes the glow from the redstone river had dimmed.

Sausage crowed with laughter. “This is fun! It’s kind of like unleashing holy fire! I think I’m getting the hang of this power even better this way!” He twisted one hand through the air and two of the roots zigzagged across the far ends of the chasm, completing the collapse. It was still going to be a hazardous gap in the ground, but now they knew they had an effective way of filling it in.

They could work on leveling out the land after the rest of the chasms were dealt with. One by one, they directed roots to break up the soil and stone. Scott tried coaxing several at a time, but he couldn’t compete with the dozens Sausage could manipulate. That certainly made things go faster, so he wasn’t about to complain.

After a point they needed to stop and prepare a spot for the night. Scott had Sausage stay on the border of the ruined land and simply stand there while grass began to work its way into the tough soil toward him. The much smaller roots would break it up enough to allow water to permeate the ground later. Maybe Joel would happen to come by and help speed that up. Scott couldn’t tell if there would be regular rainfall here or if it was like the mesa.

He made some vines form another hammock. The thought did occur to him that spending the night out in the center of the ruined land could also speed things up, although maybe only after they were sure the ground was stable enough.

~*~

The next two days were spent wearing down the sides of the chasms until all of them were reduced to sloping furrows. They continued to work with the roots to loosen and rearrange the ground until the area more resembled rolling hills, sans greenery. By the third day Scott deemed it safe to sleep out in the middle of it. He crafted sleeping mats out of woven vines with moss pillows again while Sausage practiced making a shelter out of available large tree roots, eventually shaping a decent lean-to.

They awoke to the sound of rain, although the ground closest to them was only getting wet because of stray raindrops. Peeking out, they saw a very precise circle of clouds leaving them with a little island, since the tough soil wasn’t absorbing the water as quickly as regular dirt, even with their efforts to break it up.

Joel swooped down on a white cloud, stark against the dark storm clouds. “Nice work, fellas. You made some decent progress. I’ll leave this here for a while. Maybe you’ll get a new stream from it. See you later!”

Just like that he was off, cutting upward through the storm clouds. They closed up after him.

Sausage looked around at the growing puddles. “Should we go somewhere else and come back later?”

“I think we take the day off. Or at least take a passive role. Come on, sit back down.” Scott held a hand out toward him after returning to his mat. Sausage hesitated, eager to keep working, but when Scott beckoned, he came over and took his hand, kissing his knuckles before sitting down beside him. Scott put his arm around Sausage’s shoulders, gently hugging him against his side. “We might get a little sleepy from lack of sunlight so it’s okay to take it easy. Not that we couldn’t travel to some place where it isn’t raining, but, y’know, we did a lot of work the past few days.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“You’re always so restless,” Scott said affectionately. “You can think about spreading the grass toward us. That will help, too.”

“Hm-m. Okay.” Sausage peered out at the rain, picturing the edge of the jungle in the distance, then closed his eyes before drawing in a breath. He spread his hands out flat, as if smoothing a blanket. “I’m thinking about a carpet of grass over this whole area.” He held the pose for several seconds, then opened one eye to take a look.

“It’s not going to happen that fast. You’re not that powerful.”

“I know,” Sausage said in a sulking tone. “I just thought I’d try.” He laid down with his head on Scott’s lap, twig halo pressing into his hair. “I kind of want to get this done fast so we can go home, but at the same time I kind of want that home to be Heaven’s Reach? Pearl’s realm is nice and all, and also like home, but I still miss our home. This world has to have a place that looks like that, so maybe it’s better to stay here longer until we find it, and we could do a little something special to make it look like Heaven’s Reach, and it would be our mark on this world. A personal mark, not just what we’ve done to fix things.”

“We could do that…” Scott smiled down at him and traced a fingertip over the swirl pattern now making up his scar.

Sausage smiled softly back at him. “That storm god mentioned some mountains. Maybe we’ll find a place there.”

~*~

The rain tapered off shortly before sunset, so the two florans only took a quick walk around to check progress. The former chasms were now small ponds, but it would still take a little more time for greenery to reach them. Sausage was happy to see that the grass had actually advanced over the past day and he repeated his blanket-spreading ritual before they settled down again for the night.

The next morning, they decided to let the plants do their thing without extra help and set out to find the mountains Joel had suggested to them. Given the direction he had said they were in, Sausage and Scott figured he didn’t mean the mountain range that was at the far side of the area they were currently in.

Along the way they patched up any rough spots, calling up new growth where it looked like the greenery was struggling, and they used tree roots again to burrow around in search of more accessible water tables. They sprinkled around biome-appropriate flowers and improved the flow of streams where mud and gravel had spilled across interrupting the water’s path.

They came upon a set of cliffs with some type of ruins having fallen to the bottom when the top ledge had given way. It wasn’t as massive as the mesa ruins, but they did find a pit full of amethyst crystal shards, already partially buried by a landslide. They decided to cover it up some more so that a future explorer might dig it up later and get a shiny surprise.

Continuing on their way, they found traces of colorful stone along what might have been a road at one time. There were signs of an earthquake that became more apparent the closer to the mountains they got, until they had to start climbing over large chunks of rock that had clearly fallen down the mountain slopes.

Even though the temperature was dropping, they pressed onward to find out why Joel had singled out this place when it honestly looked like simple, normal erosion had been in play again. Their first clue was streaks of a red substance on the ground that wasn’t like the liquid redstone. Inspection revealed it to be some type of soil, but nothing was growing on it despite it cutting through regular grassy areas. In fact, when Sausage tried coaxing some grass onto it, the grass shriveled and died.

Scott glanced up ahead past a rise in the path. “Whoa.” He tugged on Sausage’s arm and jogged over the rocky hump. Before them, laid across several peaks and shallow valleys, were whole swaths of the red soil, along with the blackened scars of cooled lava flows.

Sausage studied the landscape. “I think we’re going to have to get some trees up here first before we can even begin to tackle this one. Any ideas for the red stuff? Do you think if I stand on it long enough it will become normal dirt?”

“You could try. Just don’t get hurt by it. I’m really not sure what that is, but it’s obviously preventing the land from healing itself. From the looks of this basalt, it should have been long enough for the grass to spread. There doesn’t seem to be a caldera, so this came from fissures, and had to have happened decades ago. I’m going to look around some more.”

“Okay! I’ll be right over here. Standing.” Sausage walked onto a grassy area, purposely leaking power so the grass would grow around his footsteps to make sure it responded, then he chose a block of red to stand on. It was about half a minute before he got antsy and started walking along the whole line of strange soil instead.

Scott explored for a while, taking in the extent of the damage. There did seem to be a concentration of the substance in one particular area, and below it was evidence of a large lava flow that had gone all the way down that side of the mountains. He returned to the other area and crouched down, placing his hand against the ground to get a sense if any plant life might have a memory of the fissures. What he got instead was a flash of extremely powerful magic that had been released, leaving an impression like a shockwave. It wasn’t what had caused the eruption or the corrupted soil – as the plants now told him it was called – but that magic had put a stop to the spread.

There was then a… silence, as if all life in the area had been temporarily quelled, and the plants had only resumed their existence – unfrozen, as it were – when the world itself began to breathe again.

Scott contemplated what that meant as he headed back to where he left Sausage.

“Hey, Scott! Look! It’s woorrrkiiiiing!”

The red around where he had been walking seemed to leech away, replaced by blue-green soil instead, and even a bit of grass had begun to grow at the edges. “Maybe I should give that a try,” Scott mused. He stepped onto the next nearest line of corrupted soil and walked back and forth, thinking about it turning blue-green.

After a few minutes nothing changed, whereas more of the spots around Sausage had done so. The former seraph halted and shrugged. “I guess it’s a ‘me’ thing. You could maybe work on something different? There’s a valley over there that looks okay. You could get a flower field going.”

Scott debated on what he wanted to do. “I’ll see what I can do with the basalt patches. It might be easier for me to get roots to start breaking it up than to do what you’re doing. And we should go collect some pinecones from the trees further down. I think it would be fine to sleep on the ground here, but we’ll still need some shelter for the night.”

“I’ll go get them! You see what you can do, then we can make a plan of attack!”

By the time Sausage returned, Scott had covered most of the basalt lines with a thin layer of grass. He hadn’t touched the ones in the spot with the biggest concentration of corrupted soil, choosing to leave it for another day – or even for an overnight campsite after they got the trees set in place.

“Let’s start them in that valley and after they’ve produced more pinecones, we can spread them out.” Scott took a few from him. He tossed one up into the air and neatly caught it, smiling. “This part shouldn’t take long.”

 [ Chapter Three ]

[obwjam]

to whoever wanted the Mr Electric G/T, here’s my first offering 🫴🏻 I hope you enjoy it

In the fantastical realm of Planet Drool, where dreams took on vivid life, a fierce battle unfolded. The nefarious Mr. Electric, the embodiment of malevolence, had descended upon the surreal landscape. His sinister intentions were clear - to capture Atomina, the size-shifting superhero who protected the dreams of children everywhere.

Atomina, with her remarkable ability to change size at will, was no stranger to danger. She stood resolute, even as her heart pounded with trepidation. As the looming figure of Mr. Electric approached, the air was filled with tension and apprehension. He had managed to shock her suit which had caused it to malfunction and leave her at a vulnerable size.

Mr. Electric's metallic arm extended, reaching for the three-inch-tall Atomina with ruthless precision. His mechanical fingers closed around her, and she felt the wires from his arm snake around her tiny form, binding her tightly. Panic welled up within her as she struggled against the unyielding grip.

"Let me go, Mr. Electric!" Atomina cried out, her voice filled with a mixture of fear and determination.

But the villain remained unmoved, his sinister laughter echoing through the dreamy landscape. He began to retract his mechanical arm, slowly drawing Atomina toward him. She watched helplessly as the imposing figure of Mr. Electric loomed closer.

As Atomina was drawn closer to the towering castle that served as Mr. Electric's lair, a sense of despair washed over her. She knew that if she was brought inside, she might never escape. Her heart ached with the weight of the impending doom, and she struggled against her restraints with all her might.

But Mr. Electric's grip was unrelenting, and the wires bound her ever tighter. Her struggles grew more desperate as the imposing castle drew nearer, its ominous spires casting long shadows over the landscape.

Inside the castle, Mr. Electric had prepared a chamber designed to imprison his diminutive adversary. Atomina's heart raced as she saw the cold, metallic walls closing in around her. The walls were lined with strange devices and machinery, all designed to keep her captive.

The anguish in Atomina's heart was palpable as Mr. Electric's mechanical hand released her, and she was placed into the specially designed chamber. The wires that had bound her were replaced by energy restraints, sapping her size-shifting abilities and leaving her powerless.

Mr. Electric's cruel laughter echoed through the chamber as he sealed the door behind her, leaving Atomina trapped in the heart of his fortress. She knew that escaping this nightmarish prison would be a formidable challenge, but she refused to give up hope.

As Atomina gazed around her confinement, a flicker of determination ignited within her. She would find a way to break free, to thwart Mr. Electric's sinister plans, and to protect the dreams of children everywhere.

Inside the dimly lit chamber of Mr. Electric's fortress, Atomina found herself trapped and vulnerable. The metallic walls seemed to close in around her, and the energy restraints kept her size-shifting abilities suppressed. She knew that her captor, the menacing Mr. Electric, had more in mind than just imprisonment.

As the sinister villain approached, his mechanical arm coiling with malevolence, he looked down at the defiant Atomina, her determination shining through her fear. With an air of wicked curiosity, he leaned in closer, his cold robotic eyes locked onto hers.

"Tell me, Atomina," he hissed, his voice laced with sinister intent, "where are Max and the others? What do you know about their plans?"

Atomina's heart pounded in her chest as she met Mr. Electric's gaze with unwavering resolve. She knew that revealing any information about Max and her friends could spell disaster. Her voice, though trembling, carried a steely determination.

"I'll never help you," she declared, her words ringing with defiance. "You can trap me in this nightmare, but I'll never betray them or give you what you want."

Mr. Electric's mechanical hand clenched into a fist, the wires within it crackling with malevolent energy. Frustration danced across his metallic features, but he couldn't break Atomina's unwavering spirit.

"Very well," he hissed, his voice a venomous whisper. "We shall see how long your resolve holds in the heart of my fortress. You may be small, but your defiance is boundless. We'll see who breaks first, Atomina."

As Mr. Electric retreated, leaving Atomina alone in her dark and imposing prison, she clung to her determination, vowing to protect Max and her friends at all costs.

Inside the dimly lit chamber of Mr. Electric's fortress, Atomina found herself imprisoned and vulnerable. The metallic walls seemed to close in around her, and the energy restraints kept her size-shifting abilities suppressed. She knew that her captor, the menacing Mr. Electric, had more in mind than just imprisonment and knew he’d be back soon.

As the sinister Linus, the mastermind behind this dark operation, approached Atomina, his cruel intentions were clear. He intended to extract information from her, and his eyes gleamed with malevolence. Linus reached out, his hands ready to grab her tightly.

Atomina braced herself, knowing that Linus was determined to get what he wanted. But before Linus could lay a hand on her, Mr. Electric intervened, positioning himself in front of Atomina's cage.

"Stop, Linus," Mr. Electric commanded, his metallic voice resonating through the chamber. He held up a menacing hand, preventing Linus from getting any closer to Atomina.

Linus, though frustrated, complied with Mr. Electric's command, stepping back reluctantly. His eyes remained fixed on Atomina, his desire for information burning like a sinister fire.

Mr. Electric stood guard in front of Atomina's cage, a formidable barrier between her and Linus. He knew that while they needed information, Atomina was also a valuable asset. She was their live bait, a pawn in a deadly game to capture Max and the others.

Atomina, though confined and surrounded by her captors, held her head high. She understood the perilous situation she was in, but her unwavering determination to protect Max and her friends remained unbroken. The battle for the dreams of children had taken a dark turn, but Atomina's indomitable spirit would shine through, even in the face of her darkest nightmares.

After Linus reluctantly backed away, the tense atmosphere in the chamber seemed to ease slightly. Atomina, though still imprisoned, turned her attention to Mr. Electric, who stood guard in front of her cage.

"Thank you," she said earnestly, her voice filled with gratitude. "For stopping him from hurting me further."

Mr. Electric, his metallic features impassive, waved off her thanks as if it were inconsequential. "It's not out of concern for you," he replied coldly. "You're still of use to us, Atomina. Remember that."

Atomina nodded, understanding the precarious position she was in. While she appreciated the temporary respite, she knew that her captors were far from benevolent. They had their own dark motives, and she remained their captive.

hope you enjoyed this one. I did submit another one so idk which you’ll see first, but I HOPE YOUR HAPPY. (cause this was not easy LMAO)

😭😭😭 the counterstrike

[daggerzine]

The Spires- Woke Up Strange- (Artificial Light)

This Ventura, CA band ( the trio of Jason, Johny and Brook) came to my attention a few years ago on their previous LP, Era Was ( I believe that the Black Watch’s John Andrew Fredrick hipped me to them….thanks J.A.F.).

They’re doing the rock pop thing, but with a little more swirling, dreamy elements than a lot of bands out there. By that description I don’t want you to think they’re a psychedelic mess, they are certainly not. These are a solid, rock/pop song with cool flanged guitars and hooks a plenty and I really like the vocals as well (I had mentioned in my review of their previous LP that I hear a little Rain Parade in some of these songs which is a good place to be).

The first three cuts really set the stage here. The opener “Set the World in Motion’,” “Several Times” and  my personal favorite  “Cheap Revolution” show that, in addition to strong songwriting, they’ve also for  got some cajones as well.

A few favorites later in the album include “Broke What Breaks” (cool organ!) and the driving (ok, rockin’) “This That” and the otherworldly “Pink Skull.”

I like Woke Up Strange more than the previous record as they’ve tried some new things and definitely upped the songwriting. If the band is new to you dig in and be pleasantly surprised.

www.thespires.bandcamp.com

[crusherthedoctor]

What is your first Spyro game and your favourite Spyro stages ?

My first spyro game i play is either the 3rd or the dragonfly one

Started with the first one. Same with Crash, although in the latter's case, I got Crash 3 (and CTR) before Crash 2.

As for favourite levels... *deep breath*

Spyro 1: Dark Hollow, Ice Cavern, the Magic Crafters and Dream Weavers worlds in general, Gnorc Cove

Spyro 2: All three homeworlds, Idol Springs, Colossus, Aquaria Towers, Crystal Glacier, Breeze Harbour, Scorch, Icy Speedway, Cloud Temples, Robotica Farms, Metropolis, the Ripto fight (one of my favourite final bosses in any game)

Spyro 3: Cloud Spires, Molten Crater, Spooky Swamp, Bamboo Terrace, Country Speedway, Evening Lake, Frozen Altars, Fireworks Factory, Charmed Ridge, Midnight Mountain, Crystal Islands, Desert Ruins, Haunted Tomb, Dino Mines, Harbour Speedway, Super Bonus Round

Enter the Dragonfly: Cloud 9 despite all the glitching and lagging, Monkey Monastery, Thieves' Den, Jurassic Jungle

Season of Ice: Market Mesa, Winter Fairy, Panda Gardens, Time Machine Lab, Dusty Trails, Star Park

Season of Flame: All three homeworlds (again), Shamrock Isle, Temple of Dune, Winter Mesa, Watertopia, Moon Fondue, Dreamy Castle

...I seem to like ice levels a lot, huh.

[vox-anglosphere]

Above, the dreamy spires - below, the cutting edge of UK academia.

Oxford, UK (by Paul Murray)