#I'll do this for A While(tm)

[icantalk710]

Maybe it's the brunch/margaritas afterwards on a Sunday funday talking, but ooops 😶🙊

[outislovescomics]

:) hen

[alectoperdita]

Hey, I saw you hadn’t posted in a while and I hope you’re doing okay. I’m sorry if you’ve been going through a hard time lately, and if that’s the case I hope you have some better days soon. Please take care <3

In news that probably surprises no one, I am struggling.

Thank you for your kind sentiments, anon. Hope you are better off than I am.

[miramisaki]

30(???) days until Charlie...

Because I've had a few people send me messages to the effect of "Charlie is predicted to come out between such-and-such date range!" even though I've clearly laid it out in previous posts and yesterday's tags, I'll put it here again for clarity: I will not be updating the number on my countdown posts until we have a confirmed release date. I only want to have to update it once because changing it multiple times will lead to confusion on everyone's part, and everyone (myself included) has wildly different speculations as to when Traum release is going to be.

Thank you for your understanding. <3

[salvadorbonaparte]

I don't know why but when I'm home long enough I'll just turn into a teenager again. Fighting over stupid things. Crawling into my room afterwards

[dailyedgeworth]

today, december icon!!!!

[claitea]

a little personal project i'm slowly chipping away at, thought it would be fun to make it into a chart that i add a doodle to every time i finish a new character so i can track how i'm going with it!

by project i just mean i want an oc of each type. i'm not making a game or anything the positions listed are purely for fun HDJBFJFKE

[daughterofzeus-the-novel]

I know some of classicsblr dislikes the way Madeline Miller modernized the Illiad for Song of Achilles but I loved Circe and I'm really liking this one so far

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also if only the physical copy of how to disappear completely & never be found i first encountered & read a few years ago (sort of [roughly avg age ten] reader book, not any similarly titled How To) hadn't disappeared completely & not been found since, probably b/c i put it somewhere i intended to be For Safekeeping, which is also how my binder vanished....b/c it's one of those like. those book for late elementary/middle school readers when they just weave in this unrealism which makes for a delightful range & unpredicability? and with a cynical protagonist girl like off to the races like wow her mom is depressed asf & smoking? and it's about A Family History Secrets Mystery so blatantly a haunting that the inciting incident is basically introducing a haunted [family history secrets mystery] house. and spoilers don't matter like it's stemming from there being this missing uncle who grew up so in contrast to the Winsome Winning Sibling Who Does It All Right while seeing his own affiliation with rats that he tried to disappear completely & never be found which led to this Tragedy which led to this more unintended disappearance of his & he haunts this house & wants to be left alone & only goes out at night with this [ambiguous Is That A Giant Rat Or Weird Small Dog (protagonist affected by these family situations who expresses her preoccupation with an awareness of how fate can Strike and Get you with this interest with roving packs of killer chihuahuas. people think she's weird though she spontaneously befriends this other girl struck with this bolt from the blue & a bit weird / outcast & then Insightful who i wish was in it more)] & plays into the hauntedness danger like playing into the [something's Wrong with you then] until having to take yet more action where the urge to express the truth comes out more both b/c living that hidden is more threatened but also b/c now the niece children are more threatened as well. ft. a sort of preternatural blurring of time b/c of only being communicated with through this uncle via his comic pages (that he paints?) of dubiously accurate translations of irl events that are created so quickly it seems to verge on foresight, imagine like "hmm what's this painting. it's me standing in this room looking at this painting??? as someone ominous lurks in the shadows right behind me?" in both [now how could you know this & paint it really fast ahead of time] and [horror]

[spadaaces]

Oc-tober Day 11: Formal clothing

Two fancy lads :] I'm very very slowly working on catching up with this bsjhdjs

Prompt list below!

Prompt list made by Askanslostfins on tik tok

[kirbyddd]

ok that was a new one

[hua-fei-hua]

when i was in my second year of high school i sat next to this guy in history whom i didn’t rlly get along w/until i saw him writing love letters to his girlfriend and offered to fold them into hearts for him. i wonder what he’s up to.

[finnritter]

fit prompt: Where does Turgon get Glamdring?

Turgon watched the last of his lords trickle out of the meeting room, eager to go about their day after several long and exhausting discussions, until he alone remained behind in the empty room.

He opened a window, stretched his stiff shoulders and leaned down to rest his arms on the windowsill, enjoying just for a moment the fresh air stroking his face and the breathtaking view over his city.

The moment he would step out of this room, he would have to retreat to his own studies, back to long-overdue (how was it always long-overdue, no matter how diligently he tried to catch up?) paperwork that he would spend the rest of the day absorbed in.

He loved to take those five minutes in between, when he could do nothing but exist, if only for a blink in time.

He had also noticed, with a spark of amusement, that those were usually the moments when someone would inevitably interrupt him, usually with the latest news of a crisis or an incident or any urgent sensation that was clearly not insolvable by anyone but the king, and still usually got taken to him. It happened alarmingly often, maybe that was why the paperwork never got done.

But today it seemed like he would be disappointed in this regard after all, and he already braced himself for the boredom of the evening, when he heard quick, light footsteps approaching from the hallway, which could only belong to Idril.

He turned around with a smile just as the huge door was pulled open and he was greeted by his daughter’s inquiring eye. Her face lit up as she spotted him.

“Ah, there you are!”

He crossed the room with a few long strides, until he could speak to her without raising his voice.

“You have been looking for me?”

“I want to show you something.”

Her briefness, paired with the telling smile tugging at her lips, made him assume that she would not be sharing much more until she had shown him whatever it was that she had prepared for him. He still asked her about it, curiously, while already holding the door for her and letting her lead him towards the main exit of the palace.

“It is a secret, Atya. A surprise”

“What is the date?”, Turgon asked with exaggerated shock. “Have I missed my own begetting day?”

“You wish”, Idril said with a rather unsettling twinkle in her eyes. “There is no way you would miss what Glorfindel has actually planned for your begetting day. No, although it is a gift, in a way, this is more part of a greater plan that has been brewing for a while now.”

“Now, you’re making it interesting. Why is it that you never tell me of your plans beforehand?”

“That is because the moment I, or anyone, tell you of an idea, you need to get involved yourself and can’t let go of it. It has proven to be way less nerve-wracking for all people involved to just present you with a fait accompli.”

She smiled sweetly at him and all his protests at her – unfortunately rather apt – depiction of his character melted into a half-hearted sigh.

“And this ‘fait accompli’ of yours is hidden in… where are you leading me? The forge?”

“Precisely.”

More was not to be winkled out of her, and so Turgon, who was secretly considering how much more things were being dealt with behind his back for the exact same reason, just resigned himself to his fate and followed her.

…

The secret, as she had called it, was actually waiting for him just outside the royal forge, held by an elf that Turgon recognized to be Angûr, arguably the best blacksmith of the House of the Hammer of wrath. In front of him, actually hiding the object of interest, stood another elf, currently studying it intently.

“Are you certain that he will like it? Maybe we should change the design of the gems after all, it does seem a little over the top, now that I think about it, I just couldn’t help myself. But maybe, before he sees it-”

Turgon frowned and Angûr, who seemed to have heard them approach unlike his companion, met his eyes and bowed his head. Turgon had never heard him speak, unsure if he couldn’t, or didn’t choose to after having been enslaved by the enemy for a long time, but his amused side-eye towards his companion – who Turgon deemed to recognize at once – spoke volumes.

“Angûr”, Turgon greeted, even more curious than before. “Enerdhil.”

The latter spun around at once as he heard his name being called and immediately stumbled into a rather frenzied bow.

“My King”, he exclaimed, once he had gathered himself. “I did not expect you here so soon.”

“And I did not expect to see you today, at all, albeit I’m pleased to see you faring well”, he said, sending an inquisitive look towards Idril, who had jumped up to sit on a low wall and watched the scene unfold with a curious smile.

“Ah, so you see, your fair daughter has commissioned a sword for from us”, Enerdhil explained, as she made no movement to answer. “It is to be yours, my King.”

“A sword?”, Turgon asked, still directed towards Idril. “I have a sword.”

“Enerdhil had an idea”, she said, open in her admiration for the young smith, who had grown to be a rather close friend to her. “To enforce weapons with magical Intent. He is the one who should be explaining de details, but I quite liked the idea and Rog and I gave the two of them permission to experiment with it. It is a prototype, so to speak.”

Turgon’s gaze wandered over to the two smiths, and now, as Enerdhil had stepped aside, he could see the sword, too. It was beautiful, he realized, before a wave of shame hit him at the knowledge that his first impression of a deadly weapon had been its beauty. But even at the second glance, there was no denying it.

The smooth steel of the blade gleamed almost white in the sunlight, and there were intricate carvings adorning its cross-guard and ricasso. Even the hilt was run through with gold and something that looked like ivory, ruel-bone maybe, and at last the pommel was decorated with two white gems, one on each side.

It did not look like a weapon that was meant to be stained with blood and gore, but then again, Turgon hoped that there wouldn’t be much need for excessive bloodshed in the next time, altogether.

As if he knew why Turgon was hesitating, Angûr wordlessly held it out to him at the hilt, an encouraging smile on his lips.

Turgon took it, swung it around by way of trial. It was a lot shorter than every sword everyone had ever forged for him, but inherently way better balanced and easier to wield so that Turgon, who had never been the most skilled swordsman after all, could easily forgive the slight loss of reach.

“It is beautifully balanced”, he said, complementary, but it must have been obvious that he still didn’t quite understand the intent of a gift such as this one, and Enerdhil cleared his throat.

“That is all Angûr’s work. It is a marvellous weapon on its own, one worthy for a king, in times of peace and war alike”, he said. “But its true strength, and the true reason a simple jewel-smith such as myself decided to get involved in a project like this, lies in those carvings, you see.”

He gestured for Turgon to hold the blade steady and ran his nimble fingers over the delicate runes that were etched into the steel. Turgon noticed his voice becoming more certain and clear the more he spoke about his work, and listened intently.

“They are not only for decoration”, he said. “Those runes at the top bind the sword to its wielder and their purpose, and they are meant to protect them, to a certain degree. They absorb some of the force of impact above the blade, meaning that blocking and even hard hits are easier on the hands. It is fairly practical and works quite well, you can try it out later, if you wish.”

“That seems practical, indeed”, Turgon considered. “And those runes on the blade? What are they for?”

“They”, Enerdhil said. “Are the truly fun part. And the experimental part, for we are actually not quite sure if and how they will work, in the end.

They are meant to protect the wielder from foes, the lowly henchmen of the Enemy specifically, and as you can read in the wording of the runes, they are meant to deal orcs great damage in particular.”

“Meant to?”

“Well, we had no orcs to try it out on, so… What exactly will happen remains a mystery. But that is the fun part of magic, after all. You just light the spark, set in some gems to keep it glowing, and what happens after that is out of your hands.”

Turgon did not find this very encouraging, but the young smith sounded so pleased with himself, his eyes gleaming with an expression of pure creative energy that was so particularly Noldorin that Turgon couldn’t help but be intrigued by the magnificence of the creation. He swung it around some more, getting a feel for its astoundingly light weight in his hand, and asked a lot of questions that Enerdhil eagerly answered.

“I like it”, he decided in the end, genuinely. “Thank you for making this for me, I’m sure it will accomplish great deeds when it is next needed, although I hope that this day still lies in the distant future.”

“I don’t doubt it, my King”, Enerdhil answered with a bow, not elaborating which part of the sentence he was agreeing to.

“Oh and Enerdhil”, Turgon added, as Angûr was sheathing the blade with the look of a parent who was sending his child out on their own for the first time. “I may know someone who will undoubtedly love this idea. If you ever think about improving on your prototype, better make one for the Lord Ecthelion as well.”

[fellstcr]

⚔️ // in a small mote of light , hardly bigger than the size of a rose bud , was a bundle of mismatched memories. echoes of a laughter shared in the private solace of the archbishop's chambers. all distorted. none fully complete , as though the memories were fragmented and the pieces scattered across the island whole. but this one glowed even now , dim as an ember in the ruins of yesteryear.

troops marched across the lower levels of the mountain town. and byleth watched with mounting fury as the crimson flag of adrestia waved high in the distance. hand fell to the sacred blade dutifully hung at her hip. if this was to be made into war , then she would rise to meet the axe of the emperor who cried for it. she would not lose this place. SHE COULD NOT.

but the fury was stilled by the weight of palm upon shoulder , and the archbishop strode past.

"everyone here , young and old , is in your hands."

shoulders tensed. jaw locked behind pinched lips as the WEIGHT of every soul sequestered away in garreg mach suddenly bore down heavy on her shoulders. with it came an EXPECTATION that byleth would remain safe. that above all else , she would SURVIVE. as though only lady rhea herself ought to be the first and the last line of defense of her — their — home.

byleth lowered her gaze to the ground and remained silent.

as though she expected byleth to bear it in stride should the weight of her crown be laid upon byleth's head. ( you must have guessed it by now . the truth of who you are . ) doubt prickled at the nape of her neck . ( or perhaps i should say your lost memories are beginning to return . ) fear , that perhaps indeed , lady rhea might mean to pass this onto sothis' more worthy shoulders instead. a stab of pain through the chest , as byleth closed her eyes and forced air through her nose in a resigned sigh.

( only you can lead the people of fódlan . )

she locked gaze with lady rhea once more and finally , finally , nodded. then , turned , towards the students who looked to her , and the people who needed her —  just the same as rhea did. just the same as byleth did to her.

and hastened prayer , murmured beneath her breath as she hurried to aid garreg mach's front lines , begged for the will of fate to be merciful ; that the hands of time would be n their favor. for how could she even begin to bear it if she lost lady rhea , too ?

@bxsiliisk / fragmemoria prt. ii

[lizbethborden]

Anyway, I was doing fine and was even feeling pretty content with today and then I talked to **** and now I want to die. Confirmed pathetic sad little freak who'll die alone forever 👍 not even with friends! considering I'm incapable of maintaining relationships and drive away everyone who gets too close

[angeltism]

rot.ary di.al the aqua bpder song ever