#Glow doors

[kriska616]

[karda]

in my dreams i have a daughter

[gvldenhourr]

[weatherera]

Dimensions Await

colour test/sketch below.

[rated-r-for-grantaire]

I absolutely adore Éponine, she’s one of my favorite characters (in general, not just in Les Mis), so no one take it the wrong way when I say I absolutely prefer the Bishop being the one to lead Valjean to Heaven in the epilogue. Not so much musically, but more so from a character standpoint. The Bishop is the one who saved Valjean’s soul. Valjean would not know G-d if not for Myriel; so of course Myriel is the best man to lead him to Heaven. The ideal production, to me, has the Bishop leading Valjean to Heaven and also has Javert in Heaven. Unfortunately, such productions seem to not exist (and I am so so so so willing to be corrected about that).

[chasingrainbowsforever]

~ Light and Shadow ~

[polillamielera]

Roblox Pressure 🐟💳

[elvenfaur]

You know he goes wild on the shredded cheese at the tender hour of 2am and scares the shit out of Wolfwood

[templeofvengeance]

@spiderman2-99 (From here):

[1. I LOVE THIS 2. poor miggy deals with enough stress from a million and a half Peter Parkers I think Khonshu would do him in 3. the suit would be sick though]

[The idea spoke to me so here's some concept art--

I'd like to believe that if a million and a half Peter Parkers didn't break him, nothing could, but Khonshu does have a knack for finding messed up people and Making Them Worse]

[theglowsociety]

[flovoid]

ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔡𝔬𝔬𝔯𝔰 𝔅𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔤𝔶, 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔩𝔶 𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔰,

𝔒𝔥, 𝔞𝔡𝔞𝔪 𝔉𝔞𝔯 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔩 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔦𝔪𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔩…

[flankerclinger0a]

Safe house

[scammysmileroksuu]

The 'mutants' of the fog cat tribe.

I keep thinking about how little we know of the cat siblings, compared to Cale's other children like Raon or the wolf children. What kind of people were their parents? How did their tribe murder them? Were the siblings there to watch their parents' last moments? How old were they? Why were they 'mutants'? How were they treated there? When and how did they escape their tribe? So as I kept brainrotting at 2 am, a new hyperfixation took over me. And I'm writing two ohn and hong centric fics, neither is going to be finished at current rate, so I drew them to calm my mind. I'm never doing backgrounds again. (It's supposed to be a tent entrance)

[becomingher-era]

IG: candicecynthia.t

[galaxygermdraws]

Wanted to mess around with palettes so I did these.

(reblogs with tags/comments are appreciated. Thankyuuuu)

[fangsandsoftgrass]

Soft music and indistinguishable chatter filled the air around her as Cirwedh stepped onto the balcony of Beragon's townhouse, Gladriel in tow as the previous noise died down.

All eyes were on her as Beragon began his toast, and when they all called her name, one voice, in particular, caught her ear. Standing off to the side with his hands clasped behind his back was Fennorian, Ursilia standing beside him and conversing with some Skingrad noble the Count must have brought; glass of wine in hand. Their eyes met, and while the rest of the party faded they shared a moment of relief, having found each other amongst strangers. They would have time later, but Cirwedh could already feel herself being pulled in different directions as those gathered clamored for their chance to thank her. For what? they'd never remember.

Cirwedh weaved through conversational checkpoints like a needle and thread, exchanging clasped hands and well-practiced pleasantries until the sun sank low behind the trees, and the last few people trickled back into the townhouse proper (to continue the party somewhere with more food, she was sure). She had settled into a heated debate on the floor with Gladriel when the sound of her name caught her attention, just in time to see Ursilia close the door into the parlor. Fennorian was just as soon crossing the floor and pulling her into his arms. For a second, Cirwedh thought she smelled strawberries.

"I've been waiting all afternoon to hold you." the sentiment had her knees weak. As she pulled back to look him over, she noticed just how nice his clothes were. Fennorian had ditched the leathers altogether and instead opted for silken pants and a tunic, both dyed black and accented with silver closures that matched the coffin dangling from his neck. An almost opulent vest of deep maroon and scarlet florals brought it all together, visibly aged but still a fine piece of clothing. He noticed her staring and spoke up, "It was Verandis'. Seen plenty of court intrigue and ballrooms, I'm certain."

"And I thought I'd overdressed." A sparkling laugh spilled from her lips as she smiled and cupped his cheek with a sprouting hand. The only thing Alea had told her was to dress finely—well, as finely as she could, considering how she'd been covered antlers-to-toes in everything by the time she had returned to the city—so she draped herself in borrowed silk and leather, keeping it all on with living vines and the same blooming peonies she'd seen growing in the Skingrad gardens. Vibrant leaves and scars covered whatever skin was exposed, and beneath them lay enough freckles to make the stars envious.

"Considering some of the collars here were bigger than Glad's head, I'd say we're doing about average for this place." This earned a light chuckle. Somewhere below them, a gentle melody played, and muffled cheering could be heard from some other part of the city as people danced in the streets below. The arms around her tightened before releasing, and Cirwedh watched with a raised brow as Fennorian bowed deeply, eyes never leaving hers as he extended his arm for her to take.

"Would you give me this dance, Love?" a single pearly fang peaked from behind smiling lips. Small flowers crept up her antlers, and a deep blush settled across her cheeks as she took his hand and fell into his arms once more. The movements were slow and fluid, similar to a waltz she'd seen before in Alinor but never tried, and the setting sun painted everything golden as the stars shone like diamonds in the hazy dusk.

"I'm sorry I waited." She felt a pit of guilt begin growing in her gut. "I Saw Ursilia just standing there, and I think if I had gone over, she would have left with a few nasty scratches."

Fennorian sighed and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I know she's told you she's using my guilt over the engagement—I'll take that up with her later—But we did burn a lot of profitable stock. The least I can do is make sure the vineyard's workers are properly safe." He squeezed her hand in assurance and pulled her closer before, somewhere in the distance, a loud snore from Gladriel interrupted. Laughing breathily as he held her near, Fennorian dipped down to capture her lips in a kiss full of love and shared longing. Yes Cirwedh had given some rather colorful opinions on the Lady, but here, on this balcony, she remembered why she'd put up with that blighted vineyard in the first place.

"If she takes any more than what is owed, what you feel is owed," her voice was a raspy whisper as she spoke against the soft skin of his lips, "I will turn her into soup." She pecked his cheek, mischief dripping from her tongue.

"I'm sure she would taste awfully bitter, my dear." His eyes glinted, reflecting in them a shared amusement as he shook his head.

"That is why I'll feed it to her, of course." her eyes wrinkled as she flashed her signature sharp-toothed grin.

Fennorian's chest rumbled against her with warm laughter as he spun her around and took her hands in his own, kissing her deeply once more. She had mourned the Paths not taken; it was true. But here, in the heavy, humid air that smelled of strawberries and peony, Cirwedh felt in the hands of her lover that she'd made the right choice.

IM FUCKING LOSING IT ANYWAY THANK YOU @saatoruus FOR ALWAYS SEEING THE VISION AND MAKING IT MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN I COULD EVER IMAGINE MWAH MWAH I LOVE U FOREVER