#I AM A WHITE LADY

[theloveinc]

YALL PLEASE IK WE LOVE DILF DEKU BUT WHAT IF YOU TWO ARE DILFS AND MILFS. Like YALL met in the 90s when he was JUST hitting his peak of being #1 and ALL THE HOT 90s/2k PHOTOS OF HIM AND HIS GF TOGETHER (Who is now his wife) LIKE JUST TWO PEOPLE YOUNG AND IN LOVE. Him holding her hand and laughing as they are trying to quickly get away from the paparazzi and he has his arm out and trying to wiggle through fans and having the other around her waist. He’s always wearing every day clothes in all of them cause he was young probably early 20s and didn’t really see the reason of dressing up! OH and if his wife is a poc she has those hot make up looks black girls did back then! OH I loVE IT! There’s definitely pics of the two of them like him sitting on the floor while watching a early 2000s music video from America while she is sitting behind him on the couch practicing corn rolls on his BIG HEAD OHHH YALL. AND IF THEY HAVE LITTLE MIX KIDS OMFG LET ME STOP

normally i'd stick two asks together but i'm gonna answer you in separate parts bc i wanna respond to all of your thoughts, if that's alright!

but this reminds me a little of my childhood lover post (here!)... and how deku is always so sweet to you in public, so confident with your love that he's not afraid of showing it off .... and esp how well you've both aged, still both beautiful as the day you met.

i'm sure this is what you were going for with your imagery (which def brings this imagery to life) , but this also makes me think of the tik tok trends of people sharing pics of their parents from the 90s, or getting their photos done at vintage studios. the funny but sweet poses of people standing together in y2k clothes in front of colorful backgrounds. OR even prom pictures, with the silly background drapes hehehe.

also imagining having some 90s love song being your + deku's SONG. like the song you always dance together to in the kitchen, that your kids make faces at🥺

and they're definitely cute, just like u say! either dressed up in all the cute little tracksuits you can find or in daddy's nice hero merch and similar big, chunky sneakers. or maybe u even buy them jelly sandals to match the color beads and clips in their hair... so nostalgic :(

this is such a deku vibe!!

[fukutomichi]

∙ Favorite Trope - Headbutt of Love ∙ Suite Française (2014) ∙ The Old Guard (2020) ∙ Pacific Rim (2013) ∙ Lady Chatterley's Lover (2022) ∙ Interview with the Vampire (2024) ∙ The Rings of Power (2022) ∙ The Legend of Tarzan (2016) ∙ The Punisher (2017) ∙ Captain Marvel (2019) ∙ Fallout (2024) ∙ The Mummy (1999) ∙ Red, White & Royal Blue (2023) ∙ All the Light We Cannot See (2023) ∙ Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) ∙ The English (2022) ∙ Strange Days (1995)

[thepunkmuppet]

gerard way has looked like about 300 different people throughout his life and I can shamelessly say that I am deeply and madly in love with every single one of them

[reineydraws]

so there's this post that talks about how people call jason's curved knife a kris but it's not a kris 'cuz why would he have a southeast asian knife? and op's tags say if you're gonna give him an 'exotic' weapon at least make him malay or something. a later reblog adds a filipino kris as an example, and then i was like, 'omg, jason in a barong tho.' SO i tried designing a bat-barong inspired by his hood logo, for a filipino jason haha. and now here we are! 😊✨️🇵🇭

[process-analog]

hey isnt it great how most everyone is alive and well and this game's endings arent all total bummers

[classichorrorblog]

10 Kid Friendly Movies To Consider For October/Halloween

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for making my family eat my mother's terrible cooking?

I (32NB) currently live with my father (70M), mother (68F), and brother (36M). My brother is disabled and requires at least one full time caretaker. Up until recently, this was me. First, my mom and I were sharing the duty, but then my grandmother got sick and my mom left, leaving me working, going to school, and taking care of the house and my brother by myself most of the time. It's worth noting I'm also disabled (physically and mentally), I just lived on my own from 16-27 so I got used to dealing.

Now my father has moved in with us and is taking care of my brother which is a huge relief. My grandmother died and my mother is back and helping as well! As a result, and out of the severe damage all the previous work did to me physically and mentally, I have removed myself ENTIRELY from caretaking from my brother. I don't do SHIT anymore. I will occasionally make him a sandwich or something if I feel up to it. So this is where the assholery might come in.

My mom… cannot cook. She is terrible. I mean it. Whatever you're imagining: worse. I regularly impress one of my friends (just the one, I don't want to bad mouth her excessively) with tales of her horrifying abominations. Yesterday she cooked tilapia in MELTED. LIME. POPSICLES. because she thought it would give it a citrus flavor. She did not use other seasoning (no not even salt). We have lime and lemon juice in the fridge!!!

I used to cook at least half of the meals, and often would help mom with dinner when it wasn't something boxed, to avoid such… creativity (and because half the time when she cooked I couldn't stomach it). But now due to health issues (caused by illness caused by overworking), I'm buying my own food and cooking all my own meals regardless, so I have fully stopped cooking for the family because I can't eat what they eat and we can't afford to all eat what I eat. I am subjecting my poor family to lime popsicle tilapia. We are wasting food because she ruins it and then no one will eat it, at a time when eggs are like $8 a dozen. My dad cooks when mom's not here (he's GOOD) but when she is, he lets her.

AITA? Should I bite the bullet and start cooking for everyone again?

What are these acronyms?

[breadmecoshy]

How many HK gijinkas do you have? Have you designed THK and Ghost yet??

Also hey your art looks amazing and you have some super creative and gorgeous designs, it's incredible, how do you even do it???? Your style makes them look even better too holy shit

Thanks for the question and the praise!

I have the gijinkas of the Dreamers and the Hornet (not very satisfactory, I didn't think much about them), Quirrell, Grimm and Saint, Collector and Marissa.... I can't remember any more, so that's probably it

I thought about the Little Ghost's gijinka before, but it wasn't good... So I've thought of Knight, Ghost and Kin (and little child Hornet) specifically for your request! (thanks for that, I need a boost for something high-quality) I hope I was able to convey how threatening this little child is

I had a problem with gijinkas vessels in the sense that I wasn't sure it made sense to make them human, but making them clots of emptiness was just boring. So now, apparently, the Pale King just like in damn Sparta dipped babies into the Void, and if they couldn't cope with it, threw them off a cliff or something

/which makes things worse, because now we are dealing not just with an Abyss of broken shards, but with the genocide of babies

The horns of the vessels in this interpretation are branches, like those of a White Lady, since she is their mother. (The Hornet has no horns, just a cap) We don't know how she gave life to the vessels in the game, but in the case of humans, she gave birth to them directly (she is the goddess of fertility and reproduction, so let's pretend that this is not terrible reproductive pressure---), so they have her features. But the facial features of all the kids are dad's, except for the eyes - the King's are light (and the Hornet's!), but the vessels are dark because of the emptiness. I think an ideal vessel should have completely black eyes, along with whites, since it does not need to move its eyes and look at the world around it. Just black chasms

[ria-starstruck]

i’m on team “vessels eat with their eyes”

Bonus under the cut

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 61

Chapter; Highlights (okay the entire chapter is a highlight)🤣

As requested @mysterylilycheeta I NEED TO SQUEAL IN WYVERN FANGIRL WITH YOU NOW CAUSE OH M GOODNESS THIS CHAPTER ON SO MANY LEVELS I JUST AHAKWIHUHFEJLZXBKEKA

Agony was a song in Lorcan's blood, his bones, his breath.

Every step of the horse, every leap she made over body and debris, sent it ringing afresh. There was no end, no mercy from it. It was all he could do to keep in the saddle, to cling to consciousness.

To keep his arm around Elide.

She had come for him. Had found him, somehow, on this endless battlefield.

His name on her lips had been a summons he could never deny, even when death had held him so gently, nestled beneath all those he'd felled, I, and waited for his last breaths.

And now, charging toward that too-distant keep, so far behind the droves of soldiers and riders racing for the gates, he wondered if these minutes would be his last. Her last.

She had come for him.

Lorcan managed to glance toward the dam on their right. Toward the ruk rider signaling that it was only a matter of minutes until it unleashed hell over the plain.

He didn't know how it had become weakened. Didn't care.

Still Elide kept urging the horse onward, kept them on as straight a path toward the distant keep as possible.

No ruk would come to sweep them up. No, his luck had been spent in surviving this long, in her finding him. His power would do nothing against that water.

The farthest lines of panicked soldiers appeared, and Farasha charged past them.

Elide let out a sob, and he followed the line of her sight.

To the keep gate, still open.

"Faster, Farasha!" She didn't hide the raw terror in her voice, the desperation.

Once the dam broke, it would take less than a minute for the tidal wave to reach them.

She had come for him. She had found him.

The world went quiet. The pain in his body faded into nothing. Into something secondary.

Lorcan slid his other arm around Elide, bringing his mouth close to her ear as he said, "You have to let me go."

Each word was gravelly, his voice strained nearly to the point of uselessness.

Elide didn't shift her focus from the keep ahead. "No."

That gentle quiet flowed around him, clearing the fog of pain and battle. "You have to. You have to, Elide. I'm too heavy-and without my weight, you might make it to the keep in time."

"No." The salt of her tears filled his nose.

Lorcan brushed his mouth over her damp cheek, ignoring the roaring pain in his body. The horse galloped and galloped, as if she might outrace death itself.

"I love you," he whispered in Elide's ear. "I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken." Her tears flowed past him in the wind. "And I will be with you ..." His voice broke, but he made himself say the words, the truth in his heart. "I will be with you always."

He was not frightened of what would come for him once he tumbled off the horse. He was not frightened at all, if it meant her reaching the keep.

So Lorcan kissed Elide's cheek again, allowed himself to breathe in her scent one last time. "I love you," he repeated, and began to withdraw his arms from around her waist.

Elide slapped a hand onto his forearm. Dug in her nails, right into his skin, fierce as any ruk.

"No."

There were no tears in her voice. Nothing but solid, unwavering steel.

"No," she said again. The voice of the Lady of Perranth.

Lorcan tried to move his arm, but her grip would not be dislodged.

If he tumbled off the horse, she would go with him.

Together. They would either outrun this or die together.

"Elide-"

But Elide slammed her heels into the horse's sides.

Slammed her heels into the dark flank and screamed, "FLY, FARASHA." She cracked the reins. "FLY, FLY, FLY!"

And gods help her, that horse did.

As if the god that had crafted her filled the mare's lungs with his own breath, Farasha gave a surge of speed.

Faster than the wind. Faster than death.

Farasha cleared the first of the fleeing Darghan cavalry. Passed desperate horses and riders at an all-out gallop for the gates.

Her mighty heart did not falter, even when Lorcan knew it was raging to the point of bursting.

Less than a mile stood between them and the keep.

But a thunderous, groaning crack cleaved the world, echoing off the lake, the mountains.

There was nothing he could do, nothing that brave, unfaltering horse could do, as the dam ruptured.

Rowan made himself stand there, to watch the last moments of the Lady of Perranth and his former commander. It was all he could offer: witnessing their deaths, so he might tell the story to those he encountered. So they would not be forgotten.

The roaring of the oncoming wave became deafening, even from miles away.

Still Elide and Lorcan raced, Farasha passing horse after horse after horse.

Even up here, would they escape the wave's reach? Rowan dared to survey the battlements, to assess if he needed to get the others, needed to get Aelin, to higher ground.

But Aelin was not at his side.

She was not on the battlement at all.

Rowan's heart halted. Simply stopped beating as a ruddy-brown ruk dropped from the skies, spearing for the center of the plain.

Arcas, Borte's ruk. A golden-haired woman dangling from his talons.

Aelin. Aelin was—

Arcas neared the earth, talons splaying.

Aelin hit the ground, rolling, rolling, until she uncoiled to her feet.

Right in the path of that wave.

"Oh gods," Fenrys breathed, seeing her, too.

They all saw her.

The queen on the plain.

The endless wall of water surging for her.

The keep stones began shuddering. Rowan threw out a hand to brace himself, fear like nothing he had known ripping through him as Aelin lifted her arms above her head.

A pillar of fire shot up around her, lifting her hair with it.

The wave roared and roared for her, for the army behind her.

The shaking in the keep was not from the wave.

It was not from that wall of water at all.

Cracks formed in the earth, splintering across it. Spiderwebbing from Aelin.

"The hot springs," Chaol breathed. "The valley floor is full of veins into the earth itself."

Into the burning heart of the world.

The keep shook, more violently this time.

The pillar of fire sucked back into Aelin.

She held out a hand before her, her fist closed.

As if it would halt the wave in its tracks.

He knew then. Either as her mate or carranam, he knew.

"Three months," Rowan breathed.

The others stilled.

"Three months," he said again, his knees wobbling. "She's been making the descent into her power for three months."

Every day she had been with Maeve, bound in iron, she had gone deeper. And she had not tapped too far into that power since they'd freed her because she had kept making the plunge.

To gather up the full might of her magic.

Not for the Lock, not for Erawan.

But for Maeve's death blow.

A few weeks of descent had taken her powers to devastating levels. Three months of it

…

Holy gods. Holy rutting gods.

And when her fire hit the wall of water now towering over her, when they collided —

"GET DOWN!" Rowan bellowed, over the screaming waters. "GET DOWN NOW!"

His companions dropped to the stones, any within earshot doing the same.

Rowan plummeted into his power. Plummeted into it fast and hard, ripping out any remaining shred of magic.

Elide and Lorcan were still too far from the gates. Thousands of soldiers were still too far from the gates as the wave crested above them.

As Aelin opened her hand toward it.

Fire erupted.

Cobalt fire. The raging soul of a flame.

A tidal wave of it.

Taller than the raging waters, it blasted from her, flaring wide.

The wave slammed into it. And where water met a wall of fire, where a thousand years of confinement met three months of it, the world exploded.

Blistering steam, capable of melting flesh from bone, shot across the plain.

With a roar, Rowan threw all that remained of his magic toward the onslaught of steam, a wall of wind that shoved it toward the lake, the mountains.

Still the waters came, breaking against the flames that did not so much as yield an inch.

Maeve's death blow. Spent here, to save the army that might mean Terrasen's salvation. To spare the lives on the plain.

Rowan gritted his teeth, panting against his fraying power. A burnout lurked, deadly close.

The raging wave threw itself over and over and over into the wall of flame.

Rowan didn't see if Elide and Lorcan made it into the keep. If the other soldiers and riders on the plain stopped to gape.

Princess Hasar said, rising beside him, "That power is no blessing."

"Tell that to your soldiers," Fenrys snarled, standing, too.

"I did not mean it that way," Hasar snipped, and awe was indeed stark on her face.

Rowan leaned against the battlements, panting hard as he fought to keep the lethal steam from flowing toward the army. As he cooled and sent it whisking away.

Solid hands slid under his arms, and then Fenrys and Gavriel were there, propping him up between them.

A minute passed. Then another.

The wave began to lower. Still the fire burned.

Rowan's head pounded, his mouth going dry.

Time slipped from him. A coppery tang filled his mouth.

The wave lowered farther, raging waters quieting. Then roaring turned to lapping, rapids into eddies.

Until the wall of flame began to lower, too. Tracking the waters down and down and down. Letting them seep into the cracks of the earth.

Rowan's knees buckled, but he held on to his magic long enough for the steam to lessen.

For it, too, to be calmed.

It filled the plain, turning the world into drifting mist. Blocking the view of the queen in its center.

Then silence. Utter silence.

Fire flickered through the mist, blue turning to gold and red. A muted, throbbing glow.

Rowan spat blood onto the battlement stones, his breath like shards of glass in his throat.

The glowing flames shrank, steam rippling past. Until there was only a slim pillar of fire, veiled in the mist-shrouded plain.

Not a pillar of fire.

But Aelin.

Glowing white-hot. As if she had given herself so wholly to the flame that she had become fire herself.

The Fire-Bringer someone whispered down the battlements.

The mist rippled and billowed, casting her into nothing but a glowing effigy.

The silence turned reverent.

A gentle wind from the north swept down. The veil of mist pulled back, and there she was.

She glowed from within. Glowed golden, tendrils of her hair floating on a phantom wind.

"Mala's Heir," Yrene breathed.

Down on the plain, Elide and Lorcan had halted.

The wind pushed away more of the drifting mist, clearing the land beyond Aelin.

And where that mighty, lethal wave had loomed, where death had charged toward them, nothing remained at all.

For three months, she had sung to the darkness and the flame, and they had sung back.

For three months, she had burrowed so deep inside her power that she had plundered undiscovered depths. While Maeve and Cairn had worked on her, she had delved. Never letting them know what she mined, what she gathered to her, day by day by day.

A death blow. One to wipe a dark queen from the earth forever.

She'd kept that power coiled in herself even after she'd been freed from the irons. Had struggled to keep it down these weeks, the strain enormous. Some days, it had been easier to barely speak. Some days, swaggering arrogance had been her key to ignoring it.

Yet when she had seen that wave, when she had seen Elide and Lorcan choosing death together, when she had seen the army that might save Terrasen, she'd known. She'd felt the fire sleeping under this city, and knew they had come here for a reason.

She had come here for this reason.

A river still flowed from the dam, harmless and small, wending toward the lake.

Nothing more.

Aelin lifted a glowing hand before her as blessed, cooling emptiness filled her at last.

Slowly, starting from her fingertips, the glow faded.

As if she were forged anew, forged back into her body.

Back into Aelin.

Clarity, sharp and crystal clear, filled its wake. As if she could see again, breathe again.

Inch by inch, the golden glow faded into skin and bone. Into a woman once more.

Already, a white-tailed hawk launched skyward.

But as the last of the glow faded, disappearing out through her toes, Aelin fell to her knees.

Fell to her knees in the utter silence of the world, and curled onto her side.

She had the vague sense of strong, familiar arms scooping her up. Of being carried onto a broad feathery back, still in those arms.

Of soaring through the skies, the last of the mist rippling away into the afternoon sun.

And then sweet darkness.

[pepperpixel]

I haven’t posted art in forever, (I am currently working on art tho!! It’s just taking me a bit cuz.. job..) but! But… what about if instead of the art u guys came here for. I instead posted pictures of the cool lil outfits I’ve been wearing recently that im rlly proud of… what about that???

[hamletthedane]

For the record: I do not hold a secret position in Kensington Palace.

However, my former neighbor’s boyfriend is the scandalously gay grandson of Earl So-and-So (living in sin with the son of a Texas Democrat - the horror), and he liked my cancer theory so much he told all his fancy Oxford friends about it before the news broke, and they apparently got several very stern call from their fancy peered parents about where did you hear that and stop gossiping, it’ll get out.

So while I’m not a palace papers source, I did get Earl Black Sheep Jr. calling me at 6am this morning excitedly confirming that I was right about the third cousin once removed of his childhood friend having cancer 💀

[ratatatastic]

we've had bratwurst, icecream, cereal and unholy food abominations i cant even begin to describe in that cup this summer but you know what we havent had yet? pasteries. a king who thinks ahead and knows how to stun. what a diva. truly innovative content here (i mean this sincerely as i possibly can)

Forsy Cup Day | 8.2.24 (x)

[the-little-crab-in-your-pocket]

“The twink Bill Cipher design is so cringe.” You are all cowards.

[98chao]

another drawing of my au

[gaykornography]