Discover Top Posts Tagged with #oops 8')

‘you don’t always have to do everything on your own.’ (( ancient verse b/c I Have A Craving. ))

"You're a messenger."

The pharaoh's words were uttered with absolute vitriol, slung like stones towards Ahum-Nur. Rukkhadevata was gone, retreated within the forests of Valivija as her own form of grief made her retreat into vales of green, behind the Wall of Samiel, while he remained under the harsh, hot judgement of the sun. Bald and undisguised where nothing could be hidden. Deshret turned Malikata's soulstone over in his hand, feeling its rough facets as though it alone anchored him to reality.

Gurabad was dying. Liloupar's vendetta had been wrought, and she had been imprisoned, but he could feel it. The inexorable pull of the Abyss that had drawn him before called him again, and he didn't know if he could disregard it this time. The seven city-states were ruled by kings whose only tether to him was formality as their patron god. They didn't need him anymore. And he didn't need supplicants to worship him with flapping jaws and empty adulations.

To hell with it all. To hell with what they demanded of him with their ridiculous rules and lies.

"Leave me. Do not return unless I call on you, am I clear?"

#verdantstride #ASKS.#oops 8')

I win. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred. Checkmate.

”You know, I still remember when Monopoly still came out? 1935--or, it may have been a bit earlier. My memory is a bit fuzzy in places,” Stephen quipped rather casually, studying the four railroads, the utilities, and Broadway and Park Place he had while Arthur had spread his properties, already starting to put up houses and come condos. The Sorcerer Supreme played quite conservatively, after all. But as it was, Arthur seemed to be reaping most of his money, his bucking bronco player piece already on its way to jail.

That didn’t mean he was a sore loser.

“At least until I can roll to possibly weasel my way out. I wouldn’t count this as a victory just yet, my friend,” Stephen chided with a wily smile, not quite as modest as he appeared.

#ASKS I. IC.#this could've been dramatic but it got cute instead--#oops 8')#atlantisking

@genetocide / continued from here

The slip of his tongue, the name she now carried in reference to her predecessor, does not bother Faith. In fact, she’s still getting used to the newly adorned name, feeling almost sheepish when followers utter it in her presence, praising her as if she were more than mortal. Faith knows her role in the Father’s world and she accepts it, embraces it with a ghosting smile, but she's still adjusting. Leaving Sara and her old life behind is proving not to be an easy task.

Yet those are thoughts she keeps to herself because there is no room for failure in this new role.

Pale fingers reach towards the bark of the tree, but the moment she lifts her hand, the scene has changed. Like a dream, time has no meaning, skipping forward seamlessly, and she’s walking beside Peter now, his stature overtaking her own. But she doesn’t care. In here, in the Bliss, she barely notices. Here... they are equals---or so she believes.

Faith does not look to him as he speaks, but every word reaches her ears, filtering through the cloudy haze of her mind. She’s still coherent enough to retain what he’s saying, though the bliss makes her dizzy. Disoriented. Again, another adjustment she must make.

“I will,” she says quietly, her voice echoing back to her, distorted in that green world. “This place... it’s my home now. I’ll love it without a doubt.”

Faith glances up at Peter when he begins to speak of the Angels. A gnawing anxiety curls at the base of her stomach, but she doesn’t let it show. The Angels are loyal, she knows that, but she nearly became one... She was nearly taken by the Bliss’s influence and pulled into its depths, sentence to drown in that green sea. And it was not peace she felt in those moments, but fear. A suffocating, gripping fear. Her heart aches for those who suffered that fate, no matter resistance or follower. They deserved a chance to repent, a chance to come back willingly if that was their decision... The Angels have no choice.

We gotta deal, softie?

Peter’s hand extends out to her and for a moment Faith hesitates. She wears a blank expression, eyes nearly glazed over as they flick from Peter and down to his hand.

“... And if I don’t?”

#genetocide #WRITING (thread)#VERSE (in her image)#oops 8')#yeah she defs wants to get rid of the angels #and switch up methods a little

trapped at home because of the snow? my webcomic will keep you warm, check out all this fire

http://inhibitcomic.com

#IT'S FUCKIN FREEZING #also i completely forgot to go to the bank and pick up float for the con so hopefully the snow lets up by tomorrow?????#oops 8')

I WILL BURN ;; I WILL BURN FOR YOU.

[ x // x ]

#█ ✩ ┊ SELF PROMO. ❞#█ ✩ ┊ PROMO. ❞#shxdim #oops 8')