One Nice Bug Per Day
todays bird
almost home
Cosimo Galluzzi
Kaledo Art
cherry valley forever
will byers stan first human second
titsay
ojovivo
Product Placement
izzy's playlists!
No title available
sheepfilms
wallacepolsom
tannertan36
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
PR's Tumblrdome
Today's Document
h
NASA
seen from Chile
seen from Chile
seen from Chile
seen from Thailand
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from Netherlands
@vendeath
a private roleplay sideblog for an original character. this blog features heavy topics and potentially triggering content. original lore shared with bestie Saint. extremely crossover friendly. low activity. 21+, ππ¦π«π¬π―π° ππ«π¦. follows back from evincere.
. heavy LI verse for Love & Deepspace, crossovers for more. πΎππππΌπππππ & ππΌπΎππ: @misericordiis .
. [ i. ] about | [ ii. ] rules | [ iii. ] verses
important images .... an empress & her church π₯Ί (unedited for now) - @misericordiis .
You don't know how many ways the world has collapsed to create my small tenderness. I am not gentle by nature, but occasionally it comes through.
- Excerpt from This Anatomy of Melancholy || L.H.Z
someone: thatβs mean
me: i am mean
πππ πππππ πππππππππ endlessly before the lone figure riding upon her white horse to a low rise. A bruised sky looked down upon rolling meadows and nearby peaks, only the wind breaking the silence of a once pleasant landscape. Still, even in its eeriness, Vespera found beauty. It was far removed from the cold, cloistered stone of the convent and academy. Out here, amongst the extraordinary monsters and too ordinary humans, it was as if entering a whole new world. Willfully, she had traded familiarity for this --
Though she would claim it was in the name of duty, to prove herself true to her faith.
After all, all nuns who dreamt of knighthood were expected to take on a quest of proof -- whether that was through pilgrimage to a war-torn nation or building a new temple, sometimes even translating an ancient hymn. Only ... why did they seek to test her with something only theoretical to retrieve ?
Her trial had been clear enough in word but clouded when it came to its purpose: She must seek traces a forgotten relic spoken of in legend. Whether it was a weapon or a blessing, no one could say. Only that it was storied to belong to a forgotten deity, not even mentioned in public scripture.
Yet each night since she had begun this journey, Vespera's dreams burned with images of a beacon leading her past the mountains ahead, flickering light an old lantern .
The would-be knight tightened her grip on the reins, dark eyes fixed upon the dark clouds approaching the peaks. They had begun to be partially veiled from what remained of the light of the sun as she approached the foot of one of these particular mountains, the rain began to fall in a soft drizzle and a grey mist covering the grounds. It was all eerie, as up ahead, she saw a carefully carved out entrance just as the villagers before had described and warned her of. Staring at this pitch black hole gave her a sudden feeling, one that told her that entering this dark place would likely be the first true test of her faith.
She lingered for quite a while, until the rain became too hazy and she had to leave her horse tethered to an old heavy tree. It was then with only a steadying breath and adjustment of her veil and single pauldron, that she steeled herself to walk past the dark entry into the mountain. Plunged into darkness, she took ginger steps that grew increasingly cobbled instead of what she had expected to be dirt path. She reached out to the walls and found them not so much as dug, but intentionally carved in some places. A few times she found herself filled with anxiety when the wrong step led to the wrong rattling sound of not steel, not rock but --
.... Until finally Vespera found up ahead a glimmer of something on the far wall -- a reflection of light.
A room perhaps ?
Vespera was not afraid of ghosts or demons or even of death. But the darkness, the dread of darkness itself had been nearly been enough to turn one raised in the light such as her back. Only now did she feel aware of the comfort it had given her, for the unknown laid beyond the approaching corner. It pulsed and flickered just like the visions in her dreams.
Did she dare to look and see, the furthest into a pit she had ever ventured ?
Her hand gripping tightly the hilt of her sword, Vespera murmured one last brave plea before entering, β If this is Your will, let me be worthy to find this relic . β
ββΒ myth verse for @misericordiis .
anyone wanna have a toxic homoerotic psychosexual rivalry with me? it does have to be weird
@misericordiis
Some recent pics I took of Vendetta !now that she's got accurate hairrrrrr , ty lord of annihilation ! SDFDFF
Jeanne d'Arc The Messenger: The Story of Joan of Arc [1999]
natasha austrich
LADS story spoilers \\
the way i'm a genius with vendetta's lads verse lmfao she's basically a Purist π«Ά
Can't sleep ! from vendetta for lilit
meme.
Send "Can't sleep" for a thought that might run through my muse's head about yours at 3 in the morning.
@wh0rehome β im so sorry your future girlfriend is a demon
I just don't think God needs to grant someone a great rack if they're going to become a nun. It's so pointless! There's a phrase about it. What's the over/under that I could get her back her and surprise her with the crucifix vi/bra/tor? It's got her god on it, how mad *could* she get? Anyways, I should make sure it works right...
Have you guys seen catholic relics? Lol how hardcore are those things but so fucked up?
Anywaysβ¦ was mulling over the mythos verse for vendetta as an LI in lads and I like the idea of her being like a devoted soldier and follower of a saint (the MC) and sheβs literally willing to go to war Joan of arc style with her because the MC turned her whole life around from maybe a lie she was living as a peasant or smth. but maybe MC gets put on trial/dies and gets turned into a Saint and the worst part of it watching ppl ask for fragments for the newly canonized MC to send off to different churches in the country and the absolute anguish Vendetta would feel watching them take her body apart and display them like she wasnβt a person ??? Like that fucking veil you people are venerating was something MC wore because vendetta stitched every fine flower and vine into its edges for them! π§ββοΈ
Anyways thank u for entertaining my brain worms I am here to make the most AU of Aliβs as per usual for the LADS verse and I just saw these pics online and was inspiredβ¦
tw for like a dudes jaw and a skull literally on display. Donβt click the readmore if you donβt wanna see!
hfggvghjccgjghggfhvhhhhjhjfh goodnight, gorgeous. the tortures resume bright and early tomorrow
β actually ... you look very pretty all tied up like this. β @vendeath
It's a simple mechanism, whatever she's bound his hands with. Likely simple cuffs. Metal against his wrists, warmed with the heat of his skin, pressing into his pulse with all the vengeance its structure can manage. It would be a simple, straightforward matter of picnokinesis to manipulate the density of the metal, have it crumble to cinders in his gloved hands. But that's not the point.
The point is Vespera's stood in a pleased and pleasing contraposto within the spread of his thighs, the bend of her knee pushed precariously adjacent to the repose of his cock. She sees Caleb watching her, presses her knee deeper in response, her crimson lips curving like a vicious blade.
"Mind telling me what this is all about?" Caleb asks, turning his face up in question of his captor. The scrunch of her nose is all the declination she affords him.
The cuffs behind him prevent any real movement for the time being, but not enough to stop him from pressing a kiss to her thigh. Her skin prickles beneath the spathe of her stockings, and Caleb takes that as invitation in the absence of any substantive denial.
His teeth scrape unceremoniously along the lace of her stockings before he catches her the hem of her leather skirt within them. Warmed by her sacrosanct skin, it's soft enough when he pulls it up, hitches it above her hip. It's just enough to give him access to what he really wants.
Breath blooms against her thigh as he kisses at the strap of her garter, plucking at it with another insouciant tug of his teeth. But the real prize was right between the press of her thighs. Kisses a line directly to her cunt, nosing at her slit swathed in the silk of her underwear.
"Sure I can't change your mind about this?" he asks, voice dark as his tongue presses against that dampening silk, then nestles deeper within her folds. His mouth goes dry, licking her until he can taste her sweetness through the silk. "I can be incredibly persuasive."
ππ πππ πππππ ever expect the depraved depths that these so-called training sessions between the colonel and his slightly more seasoned adjutant had gotten in the time they had worked together. They found they both had a wide variety of experience or willingness to teach the other on something : A primer for one on one combat; from bracing against stun batons to heavy shackles, to meetings on how to withstand interrogations or small spaces with little air. And at times they simply just played a game of cards or chess just to establish good strategies to send your enemy opponent over. It was not easy for them to turn off the military mindset they had been engrained to keep constantly running. And so that's perhaps why what enforced them to play their roles so well every day led them to enjoy this little switch of strict control just as well behind locked doors, when they could not otherwise shed their uniforms and simply be raw and innocent little citizens.
These dynamics are things Vendetta even considers now, watching her colonel debase himself upon her milky thigh, like an animal drawn to water as he pushes her skirt up her thigh. And he's so willing, despite them both knowing he doesn't need the cuffs to prevent him from taking the upper hand back whenever he pleases.
β Good little puppy, look how well you've been trained . β She offers Caleb a sparse plate to chow from with these words, because she doesn't even shift her stance -- does not relieve the clear tension already growing in his trousers.
However, she does almost feel generous when his breath fans against her. Her body tenses, her back straightening in her position even as a sigh builds up from her core and slowly passes through her ruby lips when a warm tongue laps greedily for more between the thin, and now wet fabric of her lingerie.
That's when she runs a gloved finger through the fullness of Caleb's soft hair, right to the back of his scalp where she sharply pulls him back from the bowl of her body.
β Not persuasive enough. Unless you think a dog can become a tiger ? Is that what you are ? β Vendetta sneers, releasing his hair only to slide her grip down to his chin, pinching it fiercely when she leans over, β Who taught you to be so undisciplined , though ? Quick now . β
And finally with her demands, her knee grinds once but oh so purposefully down against his groin, β Remember what to call me and I might even give you a treat . β
@vendeath / starter.
there are countless anarchic figures within the n109 zone, but this mysterious stranger had seemingly appeared within the n109 zone overnight; brought about a new taste of danger ever since she'd stepped in his night clinic seeking treatment. a honey dipped knife as he'd sewn her up anew, the blade of it now pressed against his back. he wishes he never met her. hands are gored, bare violence as they reach into the body, cleaver instead of a scalpel as he pulls bone from sinew. sharp, expert yank until the screams finally still. eyes dark, he throws that aside, smacks her hand away carelessly. no point in all that when he's being compliant, dog under her heel. snaps with frost in his tone. " a deal is a deal, vendetta. i help you, you keep my secrets. "
πππππ'π πππππππππ πππππππ about cold the precision of a surgeon compared to any standard run of the mill criminal. In most cases, Vendetta has witnessed them take whatever they want -- the obsessive cut to the throat of the killer or the aimless attack to the guts of a crook. But this man knows exactly where to slice open a man -- she can see even if the stranger on his stomach beneath him is doomed to death by dissection, this doctor takes care with every agonizing slice -- or maybe its seemingly less painful -- but he even handles the meat and gristle with a care she finds vaguely unpleasant in her quiet fascination.
β Hush now , β Vendetta hisses, red lips glistening like the very essence pooling around the now body and splatted upon Zayne's forearms.
She instead settles her hand upon the hilt of her mechanical whip, idly but sternly. β I don't care about the rest of the parts , β She starts, almost conversational despite the gorey situation as she watches over his shoulders. β -but this one is supposed to have his chip in the vertebrae . Go on , procure the chip for me . And I'll think about it . β
Spectre
