#WAIT SO DO THEY SHAPESHIFT—

[rainpunk07]

okay there’s no way there weren’t male sirens with how many of those sailors were ABSOLUTELY gay as fuck

[ilivelikeimtrying]

Ambrosius with Nimona on his back: *kicks the door open looking very panicked*

Ballister, now looking equally as panicked: What did you do?

Ambrosius, glancing quickly at Nimona then back: .... Nobody died.

Ballister: WHAT KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT?!

[acourtofquestions]

"You'll come back," Manon said.

It sounded like more of a threat than anything

Dorian smirked. "Would you miss me if I didn't?"

Manon didn't reply. He didn't know why he expected her to.

He'd taken all of a step, when Asterin clasped his shoulder. "In and out, quick as you can," she warned him. "Take care of Narene." Worry indeed shone in the Second's gold-flecked black eyes. Dorian bowed his head. "With my life," he promised as he approached her mount and grasped the dangling reins. He didn't fail to miss the gratitude that softened Asterin's features. Or that Manon had already turned away from him.

A fool to start down this path with her. He should have known better.

The hours that passed were some of the longest of Manon's existence.

From anticipation, she told herself. Of what she had to do.

Abraxos, unsurprisingly, found them within an hour, his reins sliced from the struggle he'd no doubt waged and won with Sorrel. He waited, however, beside Manon in silence, wholly focused upon the gate where Dorian and Narene had vanished.

Time dripped by. The king's sword was constant weight at her side. She cursed herself for needing to prove-to him, to herself-that she refused to let him go into Morath for practical, ordinary reasons. Erawan wasn't at the Ferian Gap. It'd be safer. Somewhat. But if the Matrons were there … That was why he'd gone. To learn if they were. To see if Petrah truly commanded the host there, and how many Ironteeth were present. He had not been trained as a spy, but he'd grown up in a court where people wielded smiles and clothes like weapons. He knew how to blend in, how to listen. How to make people see what they wished to see. She'd sent Elide into the dungeons of Morath, Darkness damn her. Sending the King of Adarlan into the Ferian Gap was no different.

It didn't stop her breath from escaping when Abraxos stiffened, scanning the sky. As if he heard something they couldn't.

And it was the joy that sparked in her mount's eyes that told her.

Moments later, Narene sailed toward them, making a lazy path over the mountains, a dark-haired, pale-skinned rider atop her. He'd truly been able to change parts of himself. Had made his face nearly unrecognizable. And kept it that way.

Asterin rushed toward the mare, and even Manon blinked as her Second threw her arms around Narene's neck. Holding her tight. The mare only leaned her head against Asterin's back and huffed.

Manon hadn't dwelled long on what she'd say.

And as the three hundred Ironteeth witches filed into the hall, some coming off their patrols, Manon half wondered if she should have. They watched her, watched the Thirteen, with a wary disdain.

Their disgraced Wing Leader; their fallen Heir.

When all were gathered, Petrah, still standing in the doorway where she'd appeared, merely said, "My life debt for an audience, Blackbeak."

Manon swallowed, her tongue as dry as paper. Seated atop Abraxos, she could see every shifting movement in the crowd, the wide eyes or hands gripping swords.

"I will not tell you the particulars of who I am," Manon said at last. "For I think you have already heard them."

"Crochan bitch," someone spat.

Manon set her eyes on the Blackbeaks, stone-faced where the others bristled with hatred. It was for them she spoke, for them she had come here.

jacket, then hoisting up her white shirt. Rising in the stirrups to bare her scarred, brutalized abdomen. "She does not lie."

UNCLEAN

There, the word remained stamped. Would always be stamped.

"How many of you," Asterin called out, "have been similarly branded? By your Matron, by your coven leader? How many of you have had your stillborn witchlings burned before you might hold them?"

The silence that fell now was different from before. Shaking shuddering.

Manon glanced at the Thirteen to find tears in Ghislaine's eyes as she took in the brand on Asterin's womb. Tears in the eyes of all of them, who had not known. And it was for those tears, which Manon had never seen, that she faced the host again.

"You will be killed in this war, or after it. And you will never see our homeland again."

"What is it that you want, Blackbeak?" Petrah asked from the archway.

"Ride with us," Manon breathed. "Fly with us.

Against Morath. Against the people who would keep you from your homeland, your future." Murmuring broke out again. Manon pushed ahead, "An Ironteeth-Crochan alliance. Perhaps one to break our curse at last."

Again, that shuddering silence. Like a storm about to break Asterin sat back in the saddle, but kept her shirt open.

"The choice of how our people's future shall be shaped is yours," Manon told each of the witches assembled, all the Blackbeaks who might fly to war and never return. "But I will tell you this." Her hands shook, and she fisted them on her thighs. "There is a better world out there. And I have seen it."

Even the Thirteen looked toward her now.

"I have seen witch and human and Fae dwell together in peace. And it is not weakness to do so, but a strength. I have met kings and queens whose love for their kingdoms, their peoples, is so great that the self is secondary. Whose love for their people is so strong that even in the face of unthinkable odds, they do the impossible."

Manon lifted her chin. "You are my people. Whether my grandmother decrees it so or not, you are my people, and always will be. But I will fly against you, if need be, to ensure that there is a future for those who cannot fight for it themselves. Too long have we preyed on the weak, relished doing so. It is time that we became better than our foremothers." The words she had given the Thirteen months ago. "There is a better world out there," she said again. "And I will fight for it." She turned Abraxos away, toward the plunge behind them. "Will you?"

Manon nodded to Petrah. Eyes bright, the Heir only nodded back. They would be permitted to leave as they had arrived: unharmed.

So Manon nudged Abraxos, and he leaped into the sky, the Thirteen following suit.

Not a child of war. But of peace.

[h0rr0rsaxo]

I thought you were just joking when you said you were obsessed with Homelander. You weren't.

WHY IS IT ALL OVER YOUR REBLOG PAGE? IT'S ALL JUST HOMELANDER. I WAS SCROLLING FOR FIVE FUCKING MINUTES.

DUDE I'M SORRY - BUT HE'S SO FINE. I'm sick and tired of pretending that I don't wanna squish his man tits, and call him my babygirl. I have to live in a society where I have to pretend like I WOULDN'T allow and tolerate his possessive behavior. I'm tired of pretending that I wanna fix him. I don't. I wanna make him WORSE. I would 100% be his enabler.

"It's us against the world babyboy😫💔🥀🖤⛓️"

[jrmblob]

waiting for the charity stream to end so i can screen record the 64 clips and counting i have saved...

[all-the-bones-ever]

monsterblr unreality posts give me kin euphoria and im kinda confused about it but wtv

[sandraugiga]

.

[artblock-tm]

“Obedience is not enough. Unless he is suffering, how can you be sure that he is obeying your will and not his own? Power is in inflicting pain and humiliation. Power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing.” (1984 by George Orwell)

[sunshineram]

im COOKING

also lil guy im not gonna finish

[hungee-boy]

i dont know if i ever shared this story but washing my hair and thinking of my dad reminded me of it

when my dad died, he had his hair pretty long and in a ponytail and we asked for his ponytail to be cut so we could save his hair

it might seem weird and it hasnt been done in my family before in my knowledge but we all consented to his hair being cut and it wouldnt have been something he opposed

when his funeral was coming up i was debating cutting my hair the same way, just forming a ponytail and having my cousin cut it but before the funeral when i was messaging my cousin to ask her, i felt a warm tingling pressure on the top of my head

i dont know if i believe in ghosts and never physically interacted with ghosts (i guess you could say ive "felt" them before, like feeling a towering but gentle male presence in my grandmas house that matched with her father's description) but ive never physically seen apparitions or heard voices or felt touches

it felt like my dad was placing his hand on my head and it was so weird and comforting that i decided not to cut my hair and only once that thought crossed my mind and i deleted the message to my cousin was when the sensation stopped

call it a hallucination brought on by grief or a supernatural occurrence but it definitely sticks with me now and id like to believe it really was my dad telling me not to cut my hair for his sake

[wolfisblank]

I have not posted on tumblr much lately because Life but I do have some d&d pc art for you to look at

[foxskip]

Not to be a #hater but they rly did make the wrong Superboy bi (it should've been Konnnnnn)

HELLO ???????????????

[raksh-writes]

Me, unable to play, because its been 30+ degrees Celcius for over a week now and my room is absolutely awfully hot even without my PC sweating:

Maybe I should multiclass my Ranger with a Druid 🤔🤔

[strqyr]

...wait—

Still, who knows what [Ozpin] may have hidden from us over the years.

in v7, qrow raises the possibility that ozpin may still be hiding something from them ( and that it likely has nothing to do with summer's last mission ).

then, in v8, we get this exchange between salem and oscar:

If I know my Ozma, he has used some means of deception to hide [the Beacon Relic's] location differently than the others. I need to know where it is.

I... That's not something I know about.

Of course. He would keep that one guarded as long as possible.

so, besides knowing ozpin made the relic at beacon "a bit more challenging" to find than at the other schools—and we have some level of comparison to be made here, as the haven vault had extra security in the elevator being only accessible with lionheart's pocket watch, so whatever ozpin did with the beacon vault, it needs to be more challenging than that—he's definitely keeping secrets so important related to it that not even his closest allies know about it.

...whatcha hiding oz? 👀

[malewifehenrycooldown]

I am not immune to purple haired ninja women.

[mechawolfie]

want a sona thats just some creature. like me