#marion clover

[battle-of-alberta]

Finally introducing Marion (Sherwood Park) after months and months of teasing! She represents a bedroom community east of Edmonton that "technically" is one of the largest cities in Alberta... or would be, if it was actually a city.

Your first fun fact is that Marion was originally going to be named Campbelltown, but since there were too many Campbelltowns across Canada, Canada Post forced her to change it to avoid confusion. She's much much younger than most of the other munis being founded in 1953.

More fun facts below!

Like Mac, Marion represents a "hamlet" in a very large service area, which means she can reap the benefits of being both rural and urban at the same time while also benefiting from living in Ed's shadow too.

I think generally the relationship between her and Ed is "he's scary! one time, i actually had to go to his house and nearly died!!"

where Ed is like "I don't know what her deal is or why she freaks out whenever I'm around" (meanwhile Edith trying to explode her with her mind)

She's just masc enough that Mac doesn't feel intimidated by her and they're best buddies. Her other close friends are other satellite communities such as Stab St. Albert and Spruce, etc.

The Strathcona County Website boasts their own Raisin Sour Cream Pie Recipe, which is sooo mid-century 'Berta lol. Back in the 50s, Marion had much longer hair, but found the upkeep too difficult and sheared it all off some time in the last few decades.

Refinery Row occasionally makes national meme news, I remember seeing some "THIS CITY IN CANADA LOOKS LIKE THE EYE OF SAURON" type clickbait on blogto or some such thing that I can't find now, and apart from not being a city, we immediately clocked the location from the photo. It just looks like that sometimes. Don't worry about it. :)

Like I say, don't worry about it!

Was doing a lot of newspaper research in the late 80s/early 90s and a plastics plant explosion was front page news for a while, so this was on my mind.

[julesofnature]

Everyday is not an opportunity to improve yourself. Some days are just there for you to accept yourself and look at the clouds. This too is growth. This too is rising. Just existing is enough on some days. The flowers do it everyday and make the world more beautiful just by being here. So do you. ~ Nikita Gill

[sunnyy-bunny]

offers you a small astral to carry around for emotional support

Thank you!

I love him very dearly :3

[ash-rigby]

Verdant Transmigration (Spring/Fertility God) [M/M]

Featured Characters: Male human and a male nature god.

Description: Marion, a cleric of one of his town's four resident nature deities, undergoes a ritual to become the next Vessel for Ta'lir who, among many things, is a god of fertility. A merging with Ta'lir requires a more physical element than a purely spiritual one.

Contains: Masked Nonhuman, Size Difference, Aphrodisiacs, Sex Magic, Fellatio, Hand Jobs, Self Lubrication, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Excessive Cum, Mild Cardiophilia.

Completion Date: March 23rd, 2024

Word Count: 3485

This isn't the next requested piece but it was the one I was getting ready to submit to this year's Spring issue of M❤️NSTER. I wound up not making the deadline but I like it too much to wait a year to share it, so I finished it up and here it is!

-

Marion walked into the ritual chamber under the gazes of many, his nude body catching the flickering firelight. He knelt on the floor of the temple as one of the other priests began to lay out a circle in sacred earth around him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, drawing in the spicy yet floral smell of the incense. Drums beat softly on all sides and the sound of low flutes seemed to tickle the nape of his neck. 

He wasn’t nervous, as those around him expected him to be; he had spent the last three days since the previous Vessel’s death in deep meditation to prepare for being the next. Adola was a magnificent woman, a constant through all of Marion’s twenty-five years. A solemn presence with a gentle, motherly hand. Her grace had inspired him to devote his life to the god she carried within her—whom he would carry in her stead.

His city enjoyed the watchful eye of four nature gods, corresponding to the seasons and each with their unique divine favors to bestow. Some blessings and miracles, others that brought simple comforts through the unavoidable trials and pains of life. Whatever their will, it was channeled through a human host; a Vessel that embodied all they were and served the people. But a mortal body is a mortal body, releasing both spirits in death. 

With Adola’s passing, Ta’lir—a god of Spring—had returned to the Ethereal Grove where he fell into dormancy, awaiting rebirth into the mortal realm. The Transmigration ritual for each god involved a performance to inspire a merging of their spirit and that of the willing Vessel. There was the exuberant dance for Summer, a melancholy yet ultimately hopeful song for Autumn, and a grueling test of endurance through cold for Winter.

Ta’lir, among other things, represented fertility. Pleasures of the flesh were a common mode of worshipping him. As a priest of Ta’lir’s temple, Marion had partaken many times; alone, with one or two other clerics, and in the grand orgies. He was more than prepared for what was required of him in the ritual ahead. A spiritual and physical union with Ta’lir.

Marion felt a presence step in front of him. There was a rustle of fabric and the sound of bare feet padding against stone. He opened his eyes to see the High Priestess smiling warmly down at him, her face framed by long, brown hair. She held an ornate cup carved from wood in her hand which she leaned down to hand to him.

“Euphoric passage to the Grove,” she said in blessing as Marion took the cup.

He brought it to his lips, familiar with its contents. The cooled, maroon-coloured tea was brewed from a dried mix containing amiculus clover petals; a powerful aphrodisiac despite its mild, unremarkable flavour. Its influence on the body was enough to carry over even in the spirit through astral projection. Euphoric indeed.

Marion gave the empty cup back to the High Priestess. Another cleric, short in stature, took it from her and replaced it with a shallow bowl of dark paint. She knelt and began to mark him with the shapes and lines that would be branded into his skin once he merged with Ta’lir, denoting him as his Vessel. 

The tea quickly took effect. Heat swirled in Marion’s stomach before migrating lower as a pleasantly tingling pulse. His cock throbbed, gradually filling without a single touch until it stood erect. Need washed over him but he would not be stroking himself or seeking partners in the crowd around him. For once, that wasn’t a part of things; his body and ecstasy were promised solely to Ta’lir that day.

Marion breathed, his cock full and heavy. The High Priestess’ touch was warm and soft, her captivating bluish-grey eyes frequently holding his as she worked. He shivered at the memories of times he had the honor of worshipping with her. A hitched gasp left him, hips jolting slightly, as she finished the final line—a single, agonizingly slow stroke up the underside of his shaft.

She left him panting in the center of the circle, stepping back to join the other clerics who began to chant. The sacred earth gradually gained a bright green glow. Fractal patterns drew themselves into existence and spread inwards from it. As they reached Marion, the lines painted on him erupted with the same light. He was struck by the extraordinary pleasure of it.

His entire body felt alight and sensitive. Nobody was touching him, but the very air seemed to caress and tease. The chanting grew louder, the glow around him flaring as the ripples of invisible sensation intensified. It was like a fire; wild, blazing, hungry. Nipping, licking and leaving trails of desperation across every inch of him.

He fell back and only just managed to catch and hold himself up on his shaking arms, legs spreading open of their own accord. The flutes faded out but the drums beat harder, the sound of them pounding through him. Somehow in perfect time with every throb of his leaking cock. 

Marion tilted his head back, face angled at the ceiling bathed in that green light. Splayed out like this—wantonly moaning and achingly erect—he couldn’t help but feel like a beast crying out for another of its kind to mate. With that thought, the words came to him, spilling from his lips as if someone else had seized his voice.

“Take me, Ta’lir,” he implored to his dormant god. “Oh, Lord of my flesh. My erotic master. Take me!”

His vision became an all-consuming white. Images flooded his mind but did not linger on a single one for long. Wet, dripping holes swallowing his shaft. Slick cocks rubbing against his own. Tangles of hot, sweaty bodies thrusting and grinding. Groping hands. Eager mouths. On top of the drums and chanting came a rising, desperate cacophony of disembodied moans.

Just as Marion felt it all coming to a head, like he might just cum, a hand was placed on the center of his chest. It gave a hefty push and everything stopped. 

The surging, full-body pleasure was whisked away in a second. Though his cock still strained and he could feel the effects of the tea coursing through him. Silence settled around him like a fog, broken only by his heaving breaths. 

Marion was outside; he could feel a cool breeze on his naked form. There was birdsong and the whisper of leaves. The smell of earth, flowers, and petrichor filled his senses. He only realized then that the white light was gone, leaving darkness. His eyes were closed. Feeling slightly foolish, he opened them and awe took his breath.

The Grove was laid out in all its glory before him.

He was kneeling on a stone circle, carved with the same patterns that had sprung up in light back in the temple. Four tall, mossy pillars rose around him, made into the shape of rabbits standing on their hind legs, noses pointed skyward. Beyond that was a rich, verdant sprawl; long grasses, full bushes, and a dense wood that ringed the clearing he was in.

Directly ahead was a short staircase which led to a colossal tree. Marion gazed at its thick trunk and spotted a carved-out portion in the middle which contained a floating, glowing green mass. Lower still, sitting on a throne that melded into the tree, was the unmoving form of Ta’lir. 

Marion stood, not expecting the strength in his legs given what he had just gone through, and walked towards him. He had seen all of the sculptures, scrolls, and murals depicting Ta’lir’s likeness, but nothing could have prepared him for the radiance of the genuine article. 

Even sitting, the god was tall. Whatever visage he had, if any, was completely obscured by a wooden mask of a hare’s head that bore three eyes. There was a thick, lush mantle of vegetation growing from his shoulders that flared behind his head, speckled through with flowering clover. The torso and arms of the body looked carved from wood, though sleek. Marion could see the intricacies of it. There were joints that would allow Ta’lir to move with the ease of flesh and bone. 

The chest was a hollow like the one he had seen in the tree, though the hole was grated over with thin, uneven, wooden lines that intersected and split here and there. The result was a myriad of varying-sized, ovular holes. There were no innards to speak of; sunlight peaked through them to show the solid plane of the other side.

The wood of the upper half faded into the more flesh-like appearance of the lower, though green and mossy. Marion swallowed when his eyes travelled there and he laid eyes on it. Though dormant, Ta’lir was sporting a large, impressive erection. His thick shaft, with its enticing slight upward curve, stood proudly. Waiting. Propelled by piety and arousal that had far from relented, Marion wasted no time in kneeling between his god’s legs.

His hands lighted on Ta’lir’s thighs. The cock before him was almost intimidating, but reverence won out. He mouthed at the hanging, virile balls before working his way upwards. The taste was an ambrosia on his watering, roaming tongue. He licked the sensitive underside of the head, bringing his hand up to the shaft as he did. The sheer girth of it showed itself as his fingers couldn’t close around it.

Marion closed his lips over the round tip, stroking all he could. As he did, he felt a sudden throb against his palm. It came with a sound; a deep, heavy heartbeat sounding above him. He looked up to see the mass in the tree beginning to pulse just as a bright green glow came to the eyes of Ta’lir’s mask.

The large body drew in a breath—into what lungs, Marion didn’t know—and released it with a low, appreciative groan. Ta’lir shifted, his head rolling on his shoulders before tilting down. Marion’s heart pounded as their eyes met, but he didn’t dare stop; he couldn’t bear the thought of taking his mouth or hands off Ta’lir. 

A chuckle, cavernous and gratified, resounded in his mind rather than outward.

“Hello, dear one,” Ta’lir said, his voice thrumming through Marion’s entire being. It was reminiscent of the feeling he experienced during the ritual, though far less sourceless. “And have my thanks for—mmhn—for restoring me.”

Marion responded by taking Ta’lir further into his mouth, bobbing his head and pumping his hand over hot, turgid flesh. The god moaned and it went straight to Marion’s dick, spurring such an intense throb that his eyes briefly rolled. He could cum like this. Just from sucking Ta’lir’s cock. Just from the divine presence of his voice. He upped his pace, yearning to please and dizzy from the pleasure of every noise his efforts worked out.

“I know you,” Ta’lir said. “This eagerness…this lust. Oh, sweet Marion.”

With a wet sound, Marion pulled off of Ta’lir, his hand never stilling as his chest warmed in admiration.

“My reputation precedes me, Lord?” he asked breathlessly, eyelids flickering from the simple action of Ta’lir brushing a tender finger behind his ear—what it was going to feel like getting fucked by this being in this state was beyond his comprehension.

“Come here,” Ta’lir said, tapping his thigh. “Let me see you.”

Marion obeyed, climbing up into his god’s lap and straddling him. His cock raged, weeping onto Ta’lir; a simple but effective tribute. He was panting, well aware of his hole’s proximity to what every part of his insides ached for. Three glowing eyes gazed upon him. Though no emotion could be discerned from them, he could sense the radiating fondness. 

“Such a handsome figure,” Ta’lir marveled, fingertips lightly trailing over his Vessel’s sides. The smile in his tone was felt. “And this…”

His hand went to Marion’s dick, taking it between his massive forefinger and thumb. He began to stroke. Slow pass up. Pause. Slow pass down. The pattern repeated as he remained fixated on Marion’s face, drinking in his moans.

“My previous Vessel was a woman without this,” Ta’lir said. “I did love the change of pace, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss burying myself.”

Marion gasped; unable to speak, shaking from his god’s touch and the waves of his voice.

“You must get a lot of attention,” Ta’lir continued, stroking a little faster. “Such a big, gorgeous cock. This heat…and you throb so strongly. I can’t wait for it to be mine. Oh…we’ll do great things together.”

Marion felt his other hand reach to caress the small of his back, gliding down over the mounds of his ass. A long, dexterous finger breached him with surprising ease; was it his imagination or was he wet? His spirit’s burning desire to take Ta’lir into him in more ways than one must have manifested such things. That one, brief coherent thought melted away as he was deeply penetrated, a second finger swiftly joining the first.

They pumped rapidly, striking true against that near-blindingly sensitive spot inside him. His body jolted, back locking into a rigid, trembling arch as his breath halted. He was lightheaded by the time he was able to suck in air again through in quick, whimpering heaves. With a loud wail, he partially collapsed against Ta’lir, his fingers curling onto the inconsistent lattice that was his chest.

“T-Ta-Ta’lir! I can’t, I can’t—ahh!” Marion cried. “I’ll c-cum. I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum! I’m—!”

“Not until I do,” Ta’lir corrected, almost sing-song. “By what other power did you think we become one? I’ve been asleep for days…allow me some amusement.”

Marion’s head swum, time becoming an unknown blur. He wasn’t sure how long he experienced Ta’lir fucking him on his fingers, but every second was exquisite. If one was keen to equate the word to denial, that is; and he was. 

“You’re amazing, Marion,” Ta’lir praised. “Sucking me in so well. If this is how you take my fingers, then—.”

“Please, Lord,” Marion begged, forgetting himself at a mere insinuation. “I…I need it—.” 

“Not yet, my dear,” Ta’lir said, probing faster into the wet, yielding passage. “Not yet.”

True to Ta’lir’s promise, release didn’t come. Marion remained tottering on its edge. He bounced unconsciously, meeting the thrusts of those thick, relentless fingers. His cock felt engorged, hugged by his balls as his body was trapped in those euphoric seconds before orgasm. The roiling pressure, the fever overtaking his shaft, feeling the rivers he was leaking. He had never known such ecstasy; the Grove’s influence was a marvel.

Marion felt no exhaustion when Ta’lir finally removed his fingers. There was only exhilaration and hunger. He shifted his hips, moving until his ass found Ta’lir’s dick. Meeting the glowing eyes once more, he nudged it insistently. His hole was dripping. Twitching. Wanting.

There was that chuckle again. “How rude of me. Please, take a seat.”

“Thank you, Lord…thank you.”

Marion lined himself up and lowered down. His body shouldn’t have been able to take it entirely. Couldn’t have been able to. But it did, opening up as if driven by pure devotion. Every broad inch claimed him slowly until Ta’lir bottomed out. 

“Oh…oh, you’re perfect,” Ta’lir praised. 

The joy of such a connection with his god was overwhelming and Marion nearly cried. He sat there in hopelessly aroused disbelief, stuffed full and feeling every pulse that throbbed alongside that constant heartbeat. It grew faster as he began to grind.

He kept it slow; now that Ta’lir was inside him, he found himself wanting to savour it. Shallow thrusts were achieved as he lifted up slightly and slid back down. Even that pace felt like being stirred up, the sheer size of Ta’lir’s cock stretching him past his usual limits. His sweltering walls caressed and squeezed—mostly of his own doing, but involuntary clenches were inevitable.

“Yes,” Ta’lir breathed, a visible shiver running through his large frame. “Dance for me.”

His hands came up to cup Marion’s undulating torso, settling over his ribs as the thumbs found his nipples. The wide pads rolled and teased. Marion arched into the touch, expelling a breath that was equal parts a moan and a laugh; it tickled for a moment before settling on pleasure.

It wasn’t long before Ta’lir took control again. Effortlessly, he began to lift Marion up and down his cock. He would get him halfway up the shaft before dropping him to the hilt, that mysterious slick leaking out around him. His head tilted back against the throne as he groaned long and deep.

“Take me…take me.”

Marion’s breath hitched at hearing his own words echoed at him. “I’m yours.”

Ta’lir growled, a sound juxtaposed with the serene herbivore his mask depicted. It was more arousing than it had any right to be. He gripped Marion’s hips and began to pound up into him, grunting with each thrust. His cock seemed impossibly harder; thicker, swelling in its confines.

Marion’s mouth was open, stunned silence occasionally broken by moans cracking his voice to a higher register. He swallowed up that monstrous shaft as if he had been made as its sheath. Like he would be hollow without it. But Ta’lir would fill his empty spaces. Until death parted their spirits.

“I’m yours, I’m yours—ahhh, I’m yours!” he chanted.

He felt himself moving. Ta’lir was standing, hands supporting Marion’s ass as his cock stilled firmly inside. He turned them so he could kneel backwards on his throne and press Marion into its back. His thrusting resumed, faster than his previous position had allowed. A quick clap of meeting flesh filled the Grove.

Marion clutched at Ta’lir. The scent of earth and something more akin to a mammalian musk flooded his nose. The latter grew stronger the more Ta’lir thrust, close to overwhelming the rest and laced with intoxicating pheromones. Marion could practically taste it and drool began to gather in his mouth. He moaned, his hole becoming a desperate vice against the burning beast of a shaft plunging into him.

Gone were Ta’lir’s words, replaced by growls and other feral noises of pleasure as he slammed. Those once-gentle hands gripped, digging deeply into the meat of Marion’s ass. His precum was abundant and incessant in its flow, adding to the lewd squelch of every thrust. It had to be running down his balls, making a mess and dripping onto his throne.

The ever-present heartbeat above their writhing forms raced. Marion was vaguely aware of the glow of that pulsing mass reaching for them in vein-like streaks down the tree’s trunk. Their markings ignited and he felt the first tell-tale throbs making their way through his cock, matching the pace of that pulse. He was close. They were close.

“Cum with me,” Ta’lir said, his voice rough. “Cum…with…!”

He suddenly stilled deep inside and warmth surged into Marion a split second before his own orgasm gripped him. He wailed, explosive ecstasy rushing into every extremity as he excessively came. It seemed endless, spurting from him as his hole milked a similar, copious stream from Ta’lir. 

There was a flood; dripping down his sides, flowing into him. Pump after pump. Two voices, loudly moaning, were beginning to be drowned out by the furious thumping of the tree’s pulse.

Marion’s vision whited and—.

He was back in the temple, kneeling in that circle. His abdomen and thighs were covered in splatters of his own cum. It didn’t cease upon his return, pleasure working through him and making his hips buck as his cock continued to burst. His hole twitched uncontrollably; he could still feel the heat of Ta’lir’s seed and the stretch of his girth. The room was silent save for his own unrestrained moans as his divine orgasm was given proper reverence. 

A faintness washed over Marion as the magic tied to the ritual abated. He collapsed and was descended upon by some of the other clerics. They welcomed him back—a greeting for him and their god. He was vaguely aware of being wrapped in multi-coloured, flower-embroidered cloth and carried to the baths. Gentle hands cleaned him with steaming, pleasant-smelling water as he continued to shiver.

Through heavy eyes, he inspected what he could see of himself. The painted marks had permanently bonded to his skin in swirling lines of brilliant emerald green. But otherwise, he felt no different and a distant pang of concern came to him.

Did it work? Had he been enough?

The High Priestess was carding her fingers through his hair when a familiar voice came to him, clear in his mind; murmurs of praise and contagious excitement for a promising future.

End

Masterlist

[pupsmailbox]

MARINE ID PACK

NAMES ⌇ aalto. adrian. adrina. aegir. aerwyna. akua. alda. aleksy. alon. amphitrite. andrienne. anemone. anenome. angler. aqua. aquaette. aquata. aquatique. ariel. arielle. ashera. aurelia. azolla. banks. barbeau. bay. beachette. beachie. beachy. beryl. blu. blue. bluette. bonnie. brooke. bubble. bubbles. calamari. calder. calypso. calyspo. captain. cari. caspian. cassius. cattail. cean. cecelia. celesea. cerulean. cerumae. ceto. clover. coastalle. coastelle. coral. coralette. coralie. coraline. cordelia. corel. corelle. coron. coronis. cove. cubit. current. cyx. dari. daria. darya. davy. delja. delmar. delphin. delphine. derya. destiny. doria. dorian. doris. dory. dylan. echo. elles. fern. fin. finley. finn. fish. fishe. fisher. fishette. fishy. flipper. float. foam. fwish. goldie. guppy. hurley. hyacinth. hydropha. ink. inky. isla. jack. jelli. jelly. jewel. kai. kaia. kairy. kelpie. kelsey. lagoona. lagoonette. lagoonne. lake. lana. levi. leviathan. lorelei. lotus. maelyn. malik. maren. marie. marin. marina. marine. marinette. marion. marissa. maritren. marlin. marne. marnie. marvin. mary. meena. mer. merissa. merlin. meryl. mira. mirabel. miriam. moby. molly. moray. morgan. moss. naiad. nancy. nauticalette. nauticalle. nelum. nemo. neptune. nessie. nina. nixie. nori. nova. nymph. nymphaea. ocean. oceanette. oceania. oceanne. oceanus. octo. oscar. oss. osseo. pacifica. patience. pearl. pearline. percy. pike. pine. pippy. pond. poseidon. puff. ray. reef. reefette. river. ronan. rosemary. sachiel. sailor. sandy. scylla. seaette. seamus. searya. seaseaette. seashelle. seaton. sebastian. selkie. serena. shark. sharky. shell. shelle. shelley. shelly. shorette. siren. sirena. sirenette. sirenne. skip. skipper. snapper. sporty. squid. star. summer. sushi. tail. tallulah. teal. tide. tidette. timin. titus. treasure. trout. twilight. undine. valdrian. vert. verulean. waterette. wave. wavette. wavy. willow. windsor. wisteria. world. wyvern.

PRONOUNS ⌇ :0/:0. ab/abyssal. algae/algae. an/anemone. ang/angelfish. aq/aqua. aqu/aqua. aqua/aqua. aqua/aquatic. aquatic/aquatic. bay/bay. be/beach. bea/beach. beach/beach. bite/bite. bleu/bleu. bloop/bloop. blu/blue. blub/blub. blue/blue. bo/boat. brea/breathe. breeze/breeze. brine/brine. bubble/bubble. ca/catch. cae/caer. carp/carpal. cat/cattail. cattail/cattail. chomp/chomp. clam/clam. claw/claw. cliff/cliff. coast/coast. cor/coral. coral/coral. cra/crab. crab/crab. cur/rent. dae/daem. de/deep. dee/deep. deep/deep. di/dive. dive/dive. dol/dolphine. drift/drift. drip/drop. drop/droplet. drow/drown. eel/eel. enj/emjoy. exci/excite. fi/fish. fin/fin. fish/fish. fish/fishe. fish/fishie. fish/fishy. flo/float. flo/flood. float/float. flow/flow. foam/foam. fwi/fwish. fy/fish. gill/gill. glass/glass. glub/glup. gre/green. gull/gull. hi/hide. hunt/hunt. hy/hydro. ink/ink. jaw/jaw. jel/jelly. jell/jellyfish. jelly/jelly. jelly/jellyfish. kelp/kelp. krill/krill. lagoon/lagoon. lake/lake. li/light. lob/lob. lost/lost. lu/lung. luu/luu. ma/marine. mako/mako. mar/marine. marine/marine. mer/maid. mer/mer. mer/mermaid. natu/nature. nautical/nautical. nep/neptune. oce/ocean. ocea/ocean. ocean/ocean. octo/octopu. oyster/oyster. peace/peaceful. pearl/pearl. pinch/pinch. puddle/puddle. ray/ray. re/reef. reef/reef. riv/river. river/river. sa/sand. sail/sail. salt/salt. sand/sand. scale/scale. scuttle/scuttle. se/sea. sea/sea. sea/seaweed. search/search. sh/ship. sha/shark. shark/shark. she/shell. shell/shell. shimmer/shimmer. shine/shine. shiney/shiney. shoal/shoal. shore/shore. shri/shrimp. sink/sink. skul/skel. soul/soul. splash/splash. spon/sponge. squ/squid. squid/squid. star/star. stare/stare. sting/sting. su/sun. sun/sun. sun/sunbathe. swi/swim. swim/swim. swish/swish. tail/tail. tear/tearself. ten/tentacle. ti/tide. tide/tide. tooth/tooth. tre/trench. treasure/treasure. tro/tropical. tropi/tropical. tuna/tuna. um/umbrella. urchin/urchin. void/void. wa/water. wa/wave. wash/wash. wat/water. water/water. water/wave. wave/wave. wet/wet. wha/whale. whale/whale. wy/wave. ☀ . ⛱ . 🌅 . 🌊 . 🌞 . 🌴 . 🍥 . 🎣 . 🏖 . 🐋 . 🐙 . 🐚 . 🐚.🦐 . 🐟 . 🐠 . 🐡 . 🐬 . 🐳 . 👙 . 💧 . 🚢 . 🛥 . 🦀 . 🦈 . 🦐 . 🦑 . 🦞 . 🧽 . 🧿 . 🩱 .

[stardustdiiving]

Concept art of the protagonist for the comic series I mentioned developing a bit ago!! Marion my funky wizard cat. I was trying to finalize her design and how her magic looks

She really likes architecture so I think compasses, protractors and similar tools pop up in how a lot of her spells form. (Your magic is very in line with your personality, emotions, and what kind of things you use it for—think of it like handwriting or someone’s art style!)

In universe I think her two cat tails are a sign of good luck and wether she’s Actually a lucky person is to be determined but that whole thing has made her very superstitious…perhaps that’s why she enjoys the imagery of a four leaf clover so much 🍀 if her tails won’t bring her good luck then maybe that’ll help tip things in her favor!

[the-twisted-tales-tavern]

Twisted Tavern Specials

Critical Failure

Female Muses: Keyleth of the Ashari, Vex’ahlia DeRolo, Pike Trickfoot, Cassandra DeRolo, Jester Lavorre, Yasha Nydoorin, Beauregard Lionette, Marion Lavorre, Nott the Brave, Yasha Nydoorin, Fearne Calloway, Imogen Temult, Laudna, Deanna Leimert

Yang Xiao-Long (Human Barbarian/Monk), Blake Belladonna (Tabaxi Assassin Rogue), Nora Valkyrie (Dwarf Storm Herald Barbarian), Pyrrha Nikos (Human Champion Fighter), Cinder Fall (Human Undying Warlock) // Hinata Hyuuga (Human Open Hand Monk), Tsunade Senju (High Elf Life Cleric), Naruko Uzumaki (Kitsune Barbarian/Monk) // Lucy Heartfilia (Aasimar Celestial Warlock), Juvia Lockster (Water Genasi Storm Sorcerer), Erza Scarlet (Human Battlemaster Fighter), Mirajane Strauss (Human Lycan Demon Blood Hunter) // Rukia Kuchiki (Halfling Bladesinger Wizard), Rangiku Matsumoto (Human Glamour Bard), Tier Harribel (Triton Shark Totem Barbarian), Neliel Tu Odelschwanck (Satyr Ancients Paladin)

Clover Beandyburke, Peregrine Weis, Jaerik Aldraeyds, Terra Verdell, Twilight Obsidia

Kinks: Non-Con, Monster-Fucking, Mind-Break, Bad Ending

Memes: Fucked Stupid, Rough Sex, Punishing Sex

[swtnsourkisses]

❝  𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱𝖤 𝖨𝖲 𝖮𝖭𝖤 𝖪𝖨𝖭𝖣 𝖮𝖥 𝖱𝖮𝖡𝖡𝖤𝖱 𝖶𝖧𝖮𝖬 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖫𝖠𝖶 𝖣𝖮𝖤𝖲 𝖭𝖮𝖳 𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖨𝖪𝖤 𝖠𝖳, 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖶𝖧𝖮 𝖲𝖳𝖤𝖠𝖫𝖲 𝖶𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖨𝖲 𝖬𝖮𝖲𝖳 𝖯𝖱𝖤𝖢𝖨𝖮𝖴𝖲 𝖳𝖮 𝖬𝖤𝖭: 𝖳𝖨𝖬𝖤. ❞

𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟⧸dossier : time witch  ›› marion cunningham ››  gugu mbatha-raw .

❛❛   aesthetic .  ❜❜   ―   ◜   . ―   black coffee and girl meals, threads of time constantly moving, early morning runs as the world spins, calm and tranquil as the moon, airplanes in the night sky like shooting stars . ⸻   .

001.  GENERAL

name  marion cummingham nicknames  mar age  43 date of birth  nov 18th zodiac  scorpiocurrent residence  new york gender  cis female pronouns  she/her sexuality  bisexual occupation  astronaut faceclaim  gugu mbatha-raw height  5'5 tattoos  four leaf clover behind right ear piercings two earing in each ear distinguishing features  a birthmark that kind of looks like a heart on left shoulder blade positive traits  intelligent, calm, persistent negative traits  resentful, obsessive, controlling labels / tropes  the interstellar likes strawberry and cream, rainy nights, warm fires, the laughter of her child dislikes  almonds, winter months, the smell of hospitals, frogs fears of loved one dying, mediocrity, running out of time, dying alone hobbies  pottery, writing habits  bitting her nails when nervous, going on runs in the morning to start her day.

002.  EXTRAORDINARY

near death experience… 

It was a routine expedition, up to the space station for three months to bring up supplies for those living aboard and aid in repairs of some of the solar panels. it was a trip she'd taken before easily. The readings on the board were wrong; she knew it⸻ years of knowing what to look for. So, she voiced her concerns to mission control. but they reassured her and her crew nothing was wrong. they had barely made out for the stratosphere when the explosion happened. it was slow motion, could feel her body heating up and freezing at once as she and her crew were ejected into space. images of her child flashing before her- the life she would miss- a life she could have had with Emilio. reconciliation with her sister.

So many possibilities. so much that could be changed just in reach. and she reached for it. her arm stiff as if rigor mortis had set in. but she touched the mot of possibility, and was pulled towards the light. Morion isn't sure how it was possible not in the moment, but in one instance she was dead or dying and in the next, she was back in her seat on the shuttle. going over the system check. was she losing her mind, had she hallucinated her death? it felt too real and she could see it... the wheel of time, the possibilities calling to her- thing golden strings of space and time at her fingertips. They didn't go on that mission, five lives had been saved that day including her own. But what would it mean for the future? She doesn't know, she's still trying to figure it out.

power… 

Marion has the ability to manipulate space and time. to see the possibilities of the future as you will which is ever-changing. the time wheel is her window to these fractions in time- which she can step into - not that she has but she could. To control space-time is to alter the fabrics of reality & the very existence itself, allowing one to erase existences and not just the flow of time, heavy stuff... and how she saved hers and her crew's lives.

drawbacks / vulnerabilities… 

There are consequences to everything. when you start to manipulate the strands of time- those consequences can be detrimental. for every change that Marion has made up to this point- there has been a catastrophic consequence though it might not be directed at her the effects ripple. So she doesn't go messing with space and time often only when dire when her conscience calls to it. it feels very much like playing god - and she hates it. during her accident, the crew was bringing up a new substance, or the space station team to experiment on a mineral called IRIDIUMS-163 - in the hopes of figuring out the possibilities and uses for the substance. however during the the explosion, Marion and possibly others were exposed to high heated levels of this mineral and it had negative effects on her. In close proximity, she starts to feel sick, but when she comes in physical contact it causes rippling pain. cause her to lose control of her time wheel- those strands of time lashing out in every which way but allowing another to travel through space and time with her as an unwilling conduit. Needless to say, she needs to run more tests to find out the scope of her power and the drawbacks and vulnerabilities she has. which she does in her private lab at home.

003.  EXTRA TDLR;

⸻ Marion hasn't been the most enthusiastic when it comes to her powers. She often tries hard not to use them; until she can understand them fully. It has very much been trial and error -- lots of tests in her own personal lab. she's seen what happens to those with these ' gifts'. she has yet to see an upside to them. the exception being her and her crew beating death. ⸻ She does not trust Cerberus corp, and not just because her ex-husband works there if anything she worries for him. there is an innate distrust of the organization and the image it promotes. they seem far too invested in the lives of the extraordinary and it comes off disingenuous. She doesn't want them to know about her or her abilities⸻ but she fears it is already too late for that. ⸻ Marion hates... hates CLEANING. Not that she won't do it but she does have a maid that comes twice a month for a deep cleaning. this being said, if you ever see Marion ⸻sleeves rolled up as she scrubs the floors, or the window and vigorously sweeps and or vacuuming? DEFCON 10 stay away.

WANTED CONNECTION

Team Scorpius: this is the team she was with during the explosion. They could have been affected and changed in ways like her or they could have. be living normal lives in their new reality. Maybe one of them is a villain now that could push her to become a hero... the possibilities are endless. playlist : coming soon !!

[tightjeansjavi]

This is super duper duper important!!! What does horse dad! Joel and Clover dress up as for Halloween? 🤠

[finishinglinepress]

NEW FROM FINISHING LINE PRESS: Beyond Cornfields by Elaine M. Seaman

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/beyond-cornfields-by-elaine-m-seaman/

Traveling Beyond Cornfields is the heart of this collection of #poems by Elaine M. Seaman. Starting from her miniature town in Iowa to various states, especially Colorado and Michigan, and countries, especially Mexico and New Zealand, she notices intricacies in #landscape, flora, fauna, and humanity. She recognizes life lived and life lost. But she always remembers that “Home is just ahead. Warm rooms in our clover meadow, oaks and pine. Home. Ahead.”

Elaine M. (Koren) Seaman grew up near the cornfields of Iowa but has lived in Kalamazoo, Michigan, for over forty years. Her sons draw her to Colorado and New Zealand each year and wanderlust takes her to other parts of the planet. Finishing Line Press published her first book of poetry, Rocks in the Wheatfield, in 2004. Her self-published book (2019), My Mother Sewed Dresses for Five, contains quilts she made and poems she wrote that share titles. The American Quilter’s Museum in Paducah, Kentucky, has one of her quilts in their collection, as do many private collectors.

PRAISE FOR Beyond Cornfields by Elaine M. Seaman

Beyond Cornfields is alive with backroad byways, birds, Pepsi and peanuts, and patchwork landscapes. Seaman begins by saying that “everything that would come later spun out from the center of Iowa” and her clear-as-day Iowan voice drops sparks of wry humor as deftly as it alludes to grief, made all the more poignant for its spareness. From the family home in Iowa Seaman spins us outward to Michigan, west to Colorado, past sandhill cranes writing across the broad sky, then farther still to Hawai’i, Mexico, and New Zealand, where she puzzles over a recipe calling for “blue milk.” But always there is the return home, where “life doesn’t have to go far to be a life.” I urge you to settle in and read this volume straight through. Allow Seaman’s poems to offer you tender comfort as, again and again, she shows you how “the world bumps beauty right in front of your eyes.”

–Marion Starling Boyer, winner of the 2021 Wheelbarrow Poetry Prize for Ice Hours and Grayson Books 2023 Chapbook Prize for What Word for This.

In Elaine Seaman’s poem “Centrifuge,” she writes, “Everything that would come later/spun out from the center of Iowa…”. And so it is with this collection, grounded between cornfields in Iowa but taking literal flight to new worlds where her sons have settled. Drives, cruises, flights, she finds herself between the comfort and ghosts of the past and the quickly accelerating present, new geographies and adult children. Plain-spoken but not terse, Seaman wonders successfully about her shifting world.

–Elizabeth Kerlikowske, Author of The Vaudeville Horse, Art Speaks, and Dominant Hand

Elaine Seaman’s Beyond Cornfields is a must-have guide for anyone who has ever travelled, left loved ones behind, or found themselves left behind. A poet who is also a quilter, Seaman has expertly pieced together tender and fierce poems that take the reader on a vibrant journey through Iowa cornfields to New Zealand gardens, from a dinner cruise where a stranger chokes on a steak to playing extreme croquet in Kalamazoo. Seaman’s delightful collection is testament to the power of poetry, stitching together memories that open to the vast landscape of the heart.

–Jennifer Clark, author of A Beginner’s Guide to Heaven and Kissing the World Goodbye

Please share/repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #read #poems #literature #poetry

[battle-of-alberta]

when i wrote the survey, Sherwood Park was my joke answer that I wasn't expecting anyone to actually vote for... so considering she nearly won the poll, i did a quick skim of the strathcona county site to get the Vibes as i tend to do and my god. I know I have a tendency towards confirmation bias but the fact they refer to their history with terms like potpurri~ and tidbits~ is absolutely confirming my biases hard tonight

[bbynames]

cottagecore names

iris, ivy, fawn, maisie, opal, marie, dorothy, alice, frances, florence, opal, augusta, story, mabel, poppy, mildred, ethel, ida, myrtle, thelma, nell, lucy, kitty, hyacinth, lavender, hattie, blanche, mamie, marjorie, della, fern, clover, willow, honey, mercy, effie, nancy, loretta, alberta, eunice, winnie, sylvie, louisa, adeline, sage, rosa, leona, lillie, agnes, irene, meadow, delilah, sunny, elinor, viola, hazel, edna, minnie, marion, pauline

autumn, storm, river, bear, jasper, herbert, alfred, lawrence, leslie, victor, rowan, linus, finch, aspen, ambrose, florent, huck, lupin, otis, wilde, sydney, vincent, chester, clyde, herman, eugene, elmer, earl, charles, linden, juniper, oak, ford, franklin, george, wilbur, roosevelt, william, luther, forest, march, fletcher, jack, brook, russell, lester, ira, lonnie, ronald, lane, valley, theo, sky, cedar, nicholas, philip, abraham, douglas, cornelius

[sunnyy-bunny]

how is the fellow astral fan :3

I'M GOOD!! Just got into college and already wanna go home😭 how are you? :333

[violettesiren]

Mother Earth, what can you offer In exchange for this, your child? I can give you hushed oblivion Under cool streams undefiled.

Mother Earth, I may regret then Lilacs bowed to eager rain, Or recall that vesper lark songs Compensate for any pain.

Can you give me dreams to equal Beauty dawn and night disclose? Lie upon my heart and listen To the growing of the rose.

How can I forget pale willows Etched above a singing stream, Or bee-haunted fields of clover For a calm eternal dream?

Cast your fears upon the night wind, Give your lovely clay to me; I will hold you in my great heart Through the long years, tenderly.

Exchange by Marion Doyle

[branmarion]

🇮🇪☘️We know that St. Patrick’s Day is an important time of celebration for the Irish and followers of our culture. We hope you all make the most out of this special day and keep the spirit of St. Patrick in your hearts. May your homes be filled with happiness and joy. As you enjoy the festivities that make St. Patrick’s Day special, don’t forget to raise a pint (or two!) of Guinness, the world’s favourite Irish beer, to celebrate the day of the patron saint of Ireland. We hope you all have a safe and memorable St. Patrick’s Day. Sláinte! Bran Marion Team Slane, Co.Meath www.branmarion.com #stpatricksday #irish #stpattysday #green #ireland #luckoftheirish #stpaddysday #shamrock #happystpatricksday #countymeath #saintpatricksday #leprechaun #stpatricks #stpatrick #kissmeimirish #clover #paddysday #dublin #handmadeinireland #stpattys #love #slane #guinness #shopsmall #handmade #handmadeinireland #stpatricksdayoutfit #fourleafclover #stpatricksdayparade #luckycharms (at Dublin, Ireland) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cp4nxAhIKWQ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[archive-of-the-guild]

ALRIGHTY!!! So we have:

Roako  Laila (My muse)

Natalie ( @midst-anima )

Reyna Red Prince Ifan Lohse Beast Sebille Fane ( @reyna-the-divine )

Hysteria Velvet Vaggie Alastor Marion  Cupid ( @winters-club )

Spence Nico Clover Morticia ( @shatteredminds​ )

and finally

Grothar the Mole King Grimble the Mole Queen Santa Claus Krampus (npcs)

Let’s get things started!