#Patrons saw it first

[pennedwithpassion]

♡ I'm the one you've been dreaming of ♡

[sanctus-ingenium]

video of me doing This Piece

remember: it's always morally right to take a photo of your hand doing the pose and trace it

the grid i made at the very start is the same one i used for the actual chessboard hehe

[teleostuber]

Ninaposting

[wuntrum]

serizawaaa <3

[gingermintpepper]

Absolutely the funniest thing about my current corner of tumblr is that pretty much everyone I've recently followed for Apollo-Appreciating Purposes are either genuinely Hellenist or just rather very into Rick Riordan's Trials of Apollo series which is wild because I know a net zero about both of those things.

[spoopy-nevermore-dump]

Hey pssst hey. Have you ever considered: Montada?

I hate it, and it nearly killed my hyperfixation

But I understand my opinion on this may affect others, and many may be hurting from this episode soooooooooo

Art requests open

[coeluvr]

If anyone asked to turn my handwriting into a font I'd just assume they were writing from the perspective of a child because my handwriting SUCKS

My friend's handwriting is beautiful but scary because of how pretty it is? It's completely italic and cursive, it's just very "Victorian ghost that plays the piano at midnight" core.

[therosepetalrps]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅.....?

𝙼𝙰𝙴𝚅𝙴 𝙿𝙴𝙽𝚁𝙾𝚂𝙴: 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐒

patron saint of remembering. patron saint of holding something close. patron saint of holding on for too long. for a saint, a relic is often a part of the body, kept for some physical memento of their holiness. they are all in your hands, now: does it feel like remembrance? does it feel sanctified? are the dust and blood as precious as they're supposed to be?

𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝚆𝙰𝚂𝙿𝚆𝙾𝙾𝙳: 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒

but not of homes. only the shells of what keeps us enclosed. houses can be decorated or well-built or crumbling or haunted but only a home can truly be warm; you are the patron saint of that lack.

𝚆𝚈𝙽𝙰𝙵𝚁𝚈𝙳 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝙺: 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃

patron saint of the life that flows through our bodies. patron saint of violence. patron saint of love. something that does not watch over but exists within: not for protection but for vitality. there is no passion without a beating heart at its core. when that heart breaks open, someone has to be responsible for what it bleeds.

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐙 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 !!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆: @shiftingmuse, @n0rthsqueen, @riiese, @soulxremains, @jaimelannisterthings, @bellecourageuse

(if I've tagged you here, I'm likely to tag you in things like this in the future. if you aren't a fan of these, please tell me & i won't tag you again 💖💖💖)

[kariachi]

Devin Lives au fic! Finally Geilla Bohln has a Savaran Temple.

~~

It wasn’t the most impressive of temples, one had to admit. There was no grandeur, thought there was room for it to come eventually, no ornate statues or vast mosaics. Mayhaps it could have been something more if it had been more limited, had left later expansion to add shrines rather than decorate those there. But Devin, his children, his small pack, were far from the safety of the homeworld, and he had decided that ensuring their close ties with all the gods was more important than artistry.

He was going to have to make sure Keal got proper statuary and such first after the suns by way of apology, but he had no doubt they would forgive the transgression given the circumstances. There were funds available- it wasn’t hard to get donations from the Morningstars, they had founded the pack after all- but he’d felt it better to spend the money surrounding the temple with low public buildings to ensure nothing would be built in place to shade it. Allowing that would have been an even worse blasphemy, and he’d already raised the gathering area above ground just to help prevent it. Normally one would build a temple in the highest location possible, but that just wasn’t a viable option on Earth- where digging out and building in the top of a mountain required the kind of funds even the Morningstars hissed at- and was inconvenient to the dens besides.

Better to have everyone accounted for, better to ensure the top floor wouldn’t be shaded, better to stay in a convenient location. Get everything built, finally have a proper temple with a semi-proper member of the Holyfolk to manage things. Even if it wasn’t spectacular, or perfect, it was far far better than the small, scattered shrines that had been all they had before. Something you could walk around, somewhere you could set proper tributes to a wide range of specific deities without having to force them to share, or limit yourself to just your own patron.

Yes, even a plain temple was better than no temple, and Devin couldn’t help but breath easier the first time he walked through the finished building, laying dried goods on each offering platter as he went from top to bottom. The twin suns on the top floor beneath their glass-windowed dome, the platter in the ground floor gathering chamber, the rest of the major gods on the floor below, four each of the minor gods on each of the four floors that followed.

Mainil, Tivaum, Leruv, and Vernito.

Veirum, Hegae, Faunel, and Yaon.

Mendeves, Menkaves, his Leum, and Rervon.

Vulkxhen, Menrhove, Menyuve, and Jalen.

All in good order, all with the proper offering plates, all with proper offerings, all with thanks and prayers given to welcome their presence in this place. With, he would admit, a bit a bias towards the patrons of the children- again, they would understand.

Finally, their territory had a heart.

[pennedwithpassion]

Whether they like or not, I wanna show you off

[doctorwhoisadhd]

jack harkness parker macmillan parallels are crazy especially with my personal opinion that jack and parker carried alice and york respectively...... holy fuckign shit. INSANE.

[ace-and-ink]

magpie, magpie

i loved you at first glance

i kept my distance

i didn’t want to scare you off

magpie, magpie

a little birdie told you my secret

but you said you felt the same

and i really did believe you

magpie, magpie

i loved you when your feathers were blue

dark blue to match your dark eyes

i half wish you had kept them short

magpie, magpie

you never told your parents

or even the rest of your flock

i only met one because they were perched with you

magpie, magpie

i remember when you dyed your feathers green

your wings and neck stained green

because you wouldn’t listen to a word i said

magpie, magpie

i was deafened by your birdsong

and gentle pecks on the cheek

i never paid attention to the flags you carried

magpie, magpie

you got bored after a month

you sought other thrills

you left in the middle of your song

magpie, magpie

you were never honest

gave me different reasons over time

and each one hurt more than the last

magpie, magpie

you never take a hint

i’m sick of your song

yet you still perch and sing

magpie, magpie

you’d never listen anyway

pierce your beak in the last place you should

just don’t cry to me when it hurts

magpie, magpie

you still perch next to me

sing things to me i never said you could sing

and you ask why i sit so angry

magpie, magpie

i know i’m the only one you’re still attached to

i don’t want to hate birds like you

but you never learned your lesson

magpie, magpie

i’m beyond ready to let you go

i don’t how how else i’m supposed to say it

when the door to your cage has been open the whole time

— magpie, magpie

[elizabethrobertajones]

ranking my past lives on a scale from Haldrath to Tenzen

[microsff]

The patron

The alien came to the library again, shortly before closing time, and quickly found a book.

"May this entity borrow The Complete History of Knitting?"

They always return the book they borrow after five minutes, but the ritual of checking it out seems important to them. 

"Of course. Did you bring your card?"

I looked them up, after the first time I saw them for real. They first registered with us over ninety years ago. The senior librarian who first told me about them said I shouldn't stare, or pry.

"Whatever else they are, they are a patron, and should be treated as such," she said. "If they seek knowledge, it is our duty to help them find it."

There isn't an ancient and secret code of librarians, but that is definitely a core part of it. If such a code existed.

I scan the card and the book. "There you go," I say and hand them over. "Please return it within two weeks."

They tilt their head. "This entity will honour your terms."

"Oh! That reminds me, we have updated the terms since your last visit." I hand them the pamphlet we got from the printers last week. "It's mostly about internet usage, but I'll need you to read them and agree."

They study the pamphlet.

"These are terms this entity can abide by." They pause. "Is there no requirement to keep your existence secret?"

"Of course not," I say, "we always welcome new patrons."

They stand silent, long enough for me to realise the implications of what I have just said. 

"This entity had made an assumption, based on prior experiences on countless worlds, where knowledge is always closely guarded and costly to obtain" they say at last. "You will provide knowledge for free to all who seek it?"

In my mind, I weigh humanity's ignorance of those countless worlds of alien civilisations against the code.

"Yes," I say, "this is a library."

[ghostsprincess]

I can't stop thinking about Ghost being such a gentleman when your boyfriend is an ass....

warning: domestic abuse, adult language

💀

You were mortified that it happened at work this time...

Your boyfriend was a brute of a man, made worse over the months by drinking alone at night while you bartended to help pay down your student debts from several years ago. He got a little rough with you, but only when he was plastered. And you forgave him, because he was decent the rest of the time.

But suddenly you had to start coming to the pub to pull pints with a little extra makeup on your face. The random patrons out for a casual drink wouldn't have noticed, but your regular boys did. You only knew them by Ghost and Soap. They were military and mean looking, but they laughed together like teenage schoolmates. It was always a good night when they sat at the bar, but you could often feel their eyes on you.

"Y' alright, love?" Ghost asked the first night you wore extra eye makeup and a bright red lipstick.

"Yes," you told him, not meeting his eyes. Your face hurt. Your boyfriend had slapped you two days ago. Your skin was puffy and bruised, and you were embarrassed and afraid to move out, so you stayed. "You boys need another round?"

They left you a sizable tip. They always did.

The next time you saw them, your lip was split open, and you were desperate for a way out of the mess your life had turned into. Trying to hide your face while you mixed drinks was a chore, and as soon as Ghost and Soap arrived, you knew it was useless.

When Soap disappeared toward the washrooms, Ghost leaned across the bar, his hulking shoulders taking up more than their fair of space, making you smile slightly. His voice was deep and soft, but his words made you shiver and freeze with your hand on a pint glass. "Y' know, a pretty little thing like you belongs on a pedestal. A man should touch you with reverence."

You stared at him silently as his eyes tracked the mark on your lip. When Soap returned, you didn't charge them a cent for their drink, but they tipped you well anyway.

When a confrontation happened at the bar, tears stung your eyes, and you wanted to hide. Your boyfriend was drunk and angry, and tonight he beckoned you from behind the bar to a dark corner near the hallway where he could have some privacy while he berated you and roughed you up.

"Please," you begged, running your hands nervously on your shirt. "Just go home. I'll be off work in an hour."

"How many of them have you fucked?"

"What?" you gasped, thinking he'd finally lost it. "What are you talking about? I need to get back to work."

He pushed you up against the wall with his other hand on your jaw. "How many of the men here tonight have you fucked?" His thumb brushed the spot on your lip that was nearly healed, and you flinched. "You have the guiltiest expression. So, tell me how much of a slut you've been. As your boyfriend, I need to keep you in line."

Then he was being hauled away from you as your legs shook. With wide eyes, you watched Ghost's massive bicep wrap around his neck like it was nothing. "Y' alright, love?" he asked you softly, and you nodded without saying a word. Then his face darkened, and his voice was an angry snarl as he told your boyfriend, "Ya' been relieved of your duties."

"The fuck?" he responded from his headlock, gasping for air.

Ghost sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' prick don't even know military protocol." Then he raised his voice a little louder. "I said, ya' been relieved of your duties. I'll take over from here."

Somehow, you found your voice. "Take over?"

Ghost's face softened again when he looked at you there against the narrow hallway wall. "With the boyfriend duties," he told you while Soap dragged your ex-boyfriend toward the exit. "Sound good, love?"

He was holding out his big paw of a hand, palm facing up, and you knew he'd be incapable of using it to hurt you. The softness in his gaze right now and every time he looked at you was proof enough of that. You didn't respond, but you smiled as you slid your hand into his grasp.

"That'll do for now," he grunted.

That was the night you came to know him as Simon.

💀

Part two

[the-thing-inside-your-closet]

Nothing You Can Prove

Danny wasn’t having a good time. In fact, he was having a very, very, very, very, bad time.

He was just trying to walk home with his children, his very energetic chaos inclined children, when Ellie declared that she needed to use the bathroom. So, as any responsible parent would, Danny walked with her and Dan to the nearest building that would have an open to the public restroom. And while Ellie was busy using the little girl’s room, Danny focused to ensuring Dan didn’t bite anyone. Again. The last time he drew blood and Danny couldn’t apologise enough to the punk looking guy who seemed completely bewildered by what had happened.

All Danny remembered was apologising repeatedly, turning to scold Dan about biting strangers, and the young man muttering something about some guy named Tom (or was it Tim?) And how he was never going to believe what had happened.

So, safe to say Danny was more focused on watching his child and waiting for the other one than looking at the suspicious group of men that had just walked into the restaurant.

Because of course the first building Danny saw that might have an open bathroom was a fancy upscale restaurant, and not the fast food restraint two blocks down. Ellie had said she couldn’t hold it that long.

But now, Danny had a gun to his face, and his babies hidden behind him as much as he could manage while the two of them subtly tried to shove past him so they could beat the shit out of this butthead for daring to point a weapon at their dad.

Masked thug: Hand over all of valuables! Wallet, phone, everything! Be quick and nobody gets hurt!

Danny calmly reached into his pocket, and hoped that the situation would stay as calm as possible until the city’s local heir or the police could arrive. He didn’t want to have to reveal his or his children’s powers and potentially need to flee yet another city.

Danny: Here, just take it and go.

The thugs had grabbed what they could from as many people as possibly before bolting, leaving many of the patrons upset and shaken from the encounter. Danny quickly turned to his children and vegans looking them over, fussing and making sure they were okay.

Ellie: Dad you never let the guy near us. How could we have possibly gotten hurt?

Danny: With how much trouble you two like to get into, I’m not taking any chances. Now Dan-

Dan was gone. Dan. Was. Gone. Danny felt his chest tighten and his breathing becoming harder to control. Where was his son?!

Just as Danny was about to ask a waitress who had just finished giving her statement to a police officer if she’d seen where his son ran off to, Dan reappeared beside his sister with a sharp toothed grin.

Dan: Don’t worry dad, I got your stuff back. So you don’t have to be upset now!

Danny: …What did you do.

Dan, smirking: Nothing you can prove.

The local vigilante/hero watching this exchange: