Yttaeoreth

@yttaeoreth.bsky.social

438 Followers 89 Following

She/Her // 29 // Often NSFW // Minors DNI 🔞 Just a tiny, tired faerie PFP and banner: pendramaenia.bsky.social

A woman with brown curly hair and glasses, dressed in a black tank top and green pants, holds a feder with ring guards pointed at the camera in posta longa, with the camera point of view about level with her waist. Her room is very messy.
A Discord message reading "Not that yuri crucifixion isn't potentially extraordinarily hot, but"
Word cloud visualization for 2025 showing your 50 most-used words, sized by frequency. Top 10: "doll" (112×), "gosh" (91×), "vetteia" (84×), "mean" (78×), "keep" (73×), "tiny" (71×), "size" (65×), "find" (60×), "gods" (59×), "girl" (59×) (from Anisota's Annual Bluesky Harvest)
Vetteia is unprepared for Neris to actually release her this time, dropping with a sharp, "Oh!" and a small splash the rest of the way into the water. With her feet on the bottom, it isn't enough to submerge her, but she nevertheless has to wipe water from her eyes and steady herself. By the time she has, Neris is already standing, stealing any chance of arguing further. She half swims, half wades to the ventral edge of the shell, where incline and water are both more shallow, and settles in to watch Neris work. Left with nothing to do, their time travelling suddenly feels unbearably close to endless - when was the last time either of them just sat, without danger, expectation, the unknown of the next moment keeping them always halfway elsewhere? The first night back in Ared'Hel, maybe? But Vetteia had had other things to attend to then, of course. She certainly did not feel any regret for that, though she's starting to think Neris and Izzy might have gotten along a little too well had they properly met. No, this is the first chance she's had to sit alone with her thoughts, no distractions. And it's...wrong. She should be helping. Doing something. Sure, she couldn't lift that bucket. Or the ladle. Or the stones. At least when they're travelling she can fight, heal, scout. It's backwards, she should need help there, not here. But magic makes her big. And hers isn't helpful here, so what's she to do? Talk. Wait. Make herself available. Just a pretty little thing again, a talking doll, a toy, a trinket, a pet-
A full-length mirror selfie of Reth in an oversized red hoodie and white knee high socks with green stripes. She is not wearing any pants, but the hoodie is large enough to cover everything down to her upper thighs.
Two wands. The one on the left is plain varnished wood, carved with a curved grip and with the rest left mostly uncarved. The one on the right is died red and varnished maple, with a tapered end, spiral texture grip, and round pommel.
A silver and black enamel pin of a moth with folded wings.
Discord message: Friend: "I've been swatting at a lot of bugs this week, and each time I'm reminded of Vetteia" Reth: "Okay hey quick question, what the fuck"
Results of a BDSM test indicating "The Soft One". "You find beauty and strength in BDSM's tender side, a sanctuary of gentle touches, whispered reassurances, and quiet intimacy. Whether offering or basking in care, your heart beats for moments where vulnerability meets kindness, and power is wielded softly. BDSM is a language of connection, where every caress, soft restraint, or gentle request speaks of trust and affection."
A picture through a glass door to a porch, lawn, and tree, with a road and a park in the background. A moth sits on the glass with its wings outstretched.
Colour drawing of a fairy with short ginger hair, hazel eyes, pointed ears, and blue wings; she wears a black dress and a gold pendant necklace. Picrew created by hunbloom.
Reth leans on a longsword in her room, wearing a short green dress and elf ears.
Normally I would have balked at such a command, but between the wine and lingering shock I found myself obeying without much thought. I climbed onto her plate and walked around the edge to her piece of bread, tearing a handful off. “Sit,” she said, and again I did as I was told. She cut off a tiny piece of fish and presented it to me on the flat of her knife; after I’d taken it, she did the same with the carrots and tart. I thanked her, voice almost a whisper, and tried to just focus on my food. I didn’t know if she heard me, but that smirk was still on her face.
An image from Alien Resurrection of Sigourney Weaver grabbing Winona Ryder by her neck and leaning over her.