#//MY MOTHER. SHE IS SO LOVELY

[keeps-ache]

i have my glasses now!! here are some things:

saw my mother clearly and almost cried

saw the parking lot and the sky and a tree and forgot to breath for a second

was so enamored with the Sky i tripped over a curb

the stars. oh my god the stars

[starrysharks]

ghanaian miku

[thatrandomblogsays]

Annabeth: I, a child, had to earn Thalia’s love, that’s how the world works! I have to earn my moms love. Love is transactional, you gotta be worthy of it first silly :)

Percy, listening to this on the train

[eaissilyy]

A kinder mother would sure seek her sons, even if it was her who abandoned them.

(Just a Thought of Marika in ragged clothes and covered in veil, unfortunately didn’t hide her grace, descending down to the shunning ground she made to cage her rage and grief from the time long past, just to see her sons who she refused to hold and look at their births. SADLY THAT’S NOT WHAT HAPPENED AHUGHGAHHHHH)

[miothle]

Memokeeper🔮✨

[sems-diarie]

death is insane. wdym i’ll never see my grandmother again

[perrigoaway]

Some ace attorney dads for Father’s Day since I drew aa moms for Mother’s Day 👍

[meaty-bones]

Happy Mother’s Day to all the great moms in the world!

[carouselunique]

Meet Twinkleshine, the Smug and Dramatic The Illustrious Illusionist of Swap Six/Side Stars!

Fun Fact: Twinkleshine is an absolute glitter fanatic. She loves glitter so much. Shiny things are her kryptonite give her a glitter snow globe and you can distract her for hours. That's how she picked her name, because she just loves twinkling shiny objects.

[super-nova5045]

sylvia plath, todd anderson and virginia woolf (aka ACTUAL tortured poets) watching taylor “im breaking up with my boyfriend for his intense depression and blaming it on him, im dating a racist who enjoys watching woc being brutalized and harasses young woc artists, i sent my fans out on a hate train to attack a young woc actress for a line she had to say as part of her job to show how mentally ill her character was, im dating a maga supporter, i refuse to say anything about a current genocide despite being the most influential person in the world right now, i am a billionaire, i fly 13 minute flights and have the highest carbon emission of any celebrity, i am a known white feminist who only speaks about issues when it affects me and has constantly let my fans get away with extreme racism and even encouraged it by associating myself with known racists” swift call herself a tortured poet (her writing sounds like a bunch of thesaurus words slapped over gabba hanna and rupi kaur-esque poetry that was created purely as a trinket for an edgy pinterest board)

[taxinealkaloids]

horrible children who are. so so mean to each other

[sleepy-bear-tm]

My sweet boy, can you not already see you are perfect?

[littlebitofdnd]

Sandra-Lynn and Sklonda are having a "What Do We Do About Kristen" phone call as we speak

[sunlightdrop]

at last, rapunzel was home, and she finally had a real family. she was a princess worth waiting for.

[sinusoidaldysfunction]

Princess Orca. CEO of baby murder.

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Finarfin Fades.

No one expects it, no one’s faded in Valinor since Miriel. The War of Wrath is won and he comes back, waving off the courtiers, well wishers, and congratulators with his usual grace, and walks into the palace of Tirion. To rooms abandoned since their owners left so long ago. Winding deeper and deeper his feet take him to what was once Finwë’s favourite garden.

He’s so tired.

He’s fulfilled his promise to Fëanaro and Nolofinwë, to avenge them. To make the agony of their final moments - agony Finarfin felt, falling to the floor screaming as fire and darkness consumed his spirit - count for something. Now Morgoth is finally gone, but he’s not the only one.

His brothers, larger than life, larger than death, are gone. With them his sons. Niece. Nephews. Grandchildren. His daughter is never to return. He Saw little Nelyo’s death in his dreams and is sure hopes for the child’s own sake that Makalaurë will be close behind.

Little remains. Even less on these golden shores.

So Finarfin sits on a bench long overgrown with vines and weeds, and watches the sun filter through the thicket, wishing the ghosts he sees in his father’s garden would flesh out.

He sits. He waits.

And by the time anyone finds him, it’s too late.

…at least he’s smiling again.