#also feel free to send a meme

[draagu]

[r0semultiverse]

[girlkisserr]

for when the whole squad is clowning

no text ft. @tigersnails, Sandri (Twitter), @thedarkfreack

[theswedishpajas]

Magma art dump of random gay Stanley things (Featuring me! Go figure!)

Anything that isn’t in some kind of blue or yellow is by one of my friends

[philtstone]

OOH can i ask for 38. delightful smiles or 40. missing them - whichever feels more authentic / comfortable to u - for arawen, please? i love the way u write them 💖 if it’s too much trouble, i can send a prompt for shawn x jules instead!

38. delightful smiles

you can also read this on ao3!

Aragorn is dozing. He does not realize it until the corners of his consciousness are bent and shaped by song. It moves through him, life-giving, and not just for the fact that it sings in his wife’s voice.

Wakefulness comes back to him in lazy parts. Time has never been a matter of days and weeks to him, as it is to his faithful steward or more hobbitish friends, but he must admit it has been a taxing few months. There is ardour in their work, and care and hope, but much death and pain, too. And interminable meetings. The world has healed in ways that can only be called triumphs, yet has much healing left to be called at peace. 

They reached somewhat of a breaking point yesterday. Eomer King yelling at the stuffed up Gondorian minister for agriculture while poor Faramir distracted the latest Haradim peace ambassador from the chaos to dubious success was, in many ways, enough to do it. 

Perhaps they needn’t have snuck out to a faraway corner of one of Legolas’s more indulgent afforestation projects like they were but forty and two-thousand again, and escaping to the clear brook outside Imladris’s borders with a touch too much audacity, but it is hard to say no when the Evenstar is leading the way. Specifically when she is wearing that lilac nightshift that flutters around her legs. 

Aragorn blinks a few times and sighs, tipping his head back. Almost awake. His limbs are without partner in the soft grass, but that is unconcerning. Arwen has always had the uninhibited capacity to recover more quickly. 

His nose is full of orange blossom and chamomile, his neck is damp from his own sweat and the dewy grass, and half his cheek is hot; his own arm lays covering it, stretched above him in the position it took immediately before his little nap. The air is warm. Gondorian springs come in hot and fast, carrying everyone swiftly into the happy embrace of summer. Yet it has cooled since noon, quiet and blue under the twilight sky. Now the night air is perfect against his skin, and a soft wind moves through the tall pines that open themselves up to the heavens and starlight. Sssshhhhh cry the trees, a whisper of such magnitude that it has taken his breath away many a time as a young man hidden in the forested wilds and intent upon clinging to even the smallest token of hope. 

It is to the open sky that Aragorn finally opens his eyes. The night is full of stillness and quietude, and contentment falls over him like a blanket. 

Somewhere in the distance he hears a nightingale. As much as he could swoon from a carefully employed note of Arwen's voice, she’s never been quite so talented a singer as to match the little birds. But singing she is. And it’s from a little distance too. Soft Quenya fills the wood, lilting. So that is why the space beside him feels cold and empty, he thinks, to the extent that he is capable of functional thought. Aragorn lets himself focus on the sounds of her, one arm still flung over his face. He does not turn to look, but she is clear in his minds eye: fae and shocking yet totally at home in the greenery, face tipped skyward, arms outstretched to touch the Life that fills this glade, naked. Her hair is unbound; he is responsible for that. 

Her voice stops of a sudden, and two pale feet appear beside his shoulder.

“Your shift is ruined,” he mumbles to the sky. He cracks one eye open to peer from under his arm at the crumpled heap of purple in the bushes. “Silk is not made for the damp.”

“Estel the weaver,” says his wife. 

He revises his statement; she does not need to sing to warble as beautifully as the nightingale. 

“Or the poet,” Arwen sighs, only laughing a little bit. “I cannot say I don’t enjoy it.”

“One can only hope.”  

She kneels down and seats herself so that her long legs are bent over his stomach, and a small movement would touch the small of her back to his raised thigh. Thick spools of hair slip down from the pin atop her head and hang around her face, and his. She is smiling. He looks upon her rosy cheeks, the flush dusting her neck and collarbone and breasts, the little quirk at the corner of her lips. There is an impish quality to the smile that he recognizes.

“Why did you stop?” Aragorn says. 

She brushes two fingers over an old scar under his rib. It is a Dark one, and she herself had once healed it. Perhaps this is why his skin burns at her fluttering touch.

“Singing? I am humble enough to know I have not Tinuviel’s talent.”

The little nightingale continues to serenade them.

“That is not why you were singing,” he says, so lowly that she must surely hear and understand only because she is Arwen. Her thumb has made its way to his bottom lip. Her soft breath ghosts over his cheeks. Aragorn opens his eyes all the way and rolls his head to face her in the grass.

Arwen glows. 

The Valar have blessed him, he thinks, compelled.

“Mmm,” she says. 

“What.”

She tilts her head, scuffs the tip of her nail under his chin. Then his throat. “Only thinking.”

Lazily, one corner of his mouth tilts upward. The slight movement risks the brush of her mouth; she revels in it. “The verdict?”

“I want a baby.”

“Take one from me, then,” he murmurs. The words slip out as easily as a breath might, unhurried, assumed. Arwen’s delighted smile unfurls like the nephridil only her touch has coaxed to life in the corners of this garden.

“I believe I just did,” she breathes into his ear. 

Her eyes are shining. The joy of her radiates into the trees around them. Aragorn feels his own follow, uninhibited like the breeze in the sky. 

[yeonban]

OKAY, GUYS! Which Valentine's Day/crush-related memes am I reblogging this year? Pick your poisons & comment down below or lmk in dms! You can choose as many as you want btw, go big or go home! 🤧 Here are the available options: one ; two ; three ; four ; five ; six ; seven ; eight ; nine ; ten ; eleven ; twelve ; thirteen ; fourteen ; fifteen ; sixteen ; seventeen.

[system-architect]

Complex Inquest Character Asks

wanted to self indulgently make an oc ask meme that might help ppl develop their inquest more in depth :-) ik there's at least one other inquest ask post out there but i wanted one with particular sorts of probing questions! feel free to reblog obvs

Have they been an Inquest loyalist since the start, or did they defect from another faction? Is there a risk they'll defect away from the Inquest in the future? (If already defected: If it were possible, would they go back?)

What is their rank, and how did they attain it? Did they WANT that rank? Do they wear it well?

Related to above: Are they SATISFIED with their rank, or do they want to keep climbing the ladder? Do they feel they deserve better than they've been given?

How well do they perform their job? Do other Inquest respect them, or are they on the chopping block?

How is their relationship with the concept of violence? Do they view it as a necessary evil, avoid inflicting it where possible, or even enjoy it?

Do they have a guilty conscience? How do they cope with or personally reconcile the continuous stress and horror?

"Fun" one: What's their uniform like? Is it a generic-issued uniform, or custom tailored? Are there any features built into it that assist with their job?

Have there been any times their loyalty to the Inquest was shaken? (Are they that loyal to begin with?)

Have they ever been involved with an experiment that could be considered truly immoral-- or, even had one performed on them? What's their attitude towards that event?

How do they feel towards Inquest leadership? (Optional: How do they feel towards Kudu and Kuda?)

What are their feelings towards the Arcane Council and Peacemakers? Have they ever been arrested or questioned?

What's their life like outside of the Inquest? Do they blend in with society well, or are they flagrantly a member of the metakrewe?

What was their real motive for joining the Inquest? Whatever their job or area of research is, why is it that they feel they can't perform it within normal society-- why do something so extreme and push moral boundaries?

It is said that the Inquest view the Eternal Alchemy as "a thing to be mastered and used, rather than merely understood, for the ultimate purpose of establishing asuran dominion over other species". Do they believe this-- is there a psuedo-religious/philosophical element to their Inquest loyalty? How do they feel towards other races?

Were they involved with any of the canon GW2 events that involved the Inquest-- Thaumanova, Crucible of Eternity, Sorrow's Embrace, Rata Primus, etc? (Optional: How'd they escape when the Commander rolled in?)

[kit-just-kit]

*All caught up now.......tomorrow I will be busy with prep for five days of family being round so, I'll probably not get much chance to be here. That being the case, from Kit and I, to all reading this, blessings of the season to you and your loved ones. May this holiday season be filled with laughter, joy, and peace xxxx*

[maigetheplatypus57]

It's 1am and I need to be up in 4-5 hours but let me take part in the time honored mcyt tradition of making the messiest possible relationship chart on mspaint on my phone starring: the tommy-molly unethical polycule

[guacas-among-us]

I've been on the mood to draw over funny pictures lately ft the human versions of Demian and Ari

[sharpsuite]

It's kinda funny how nervous i feel just sending unprompted things without an inbox call. Because like, I'm ALWAYS delighted when I see a spontaneous ask in my inbox, I don't know anyone who isn't thrilled to get unprompted asks when muses just feel like bugging others. I'm going to work more on that this year. Although, of course, I'll still post inbox calls too & if it's ever too much do feel free to let me know. In the same vein, please know you're always, always welcomed to send unprompted things or 1000000 memes.

[sageisnicethesequel]

I love Latias and Latios a normal and healthy amount...

Next!

[writtenmisfits]

meme call for a grumpy cat Geralt in your inbox

[face-breaker]

sighs...opens league of legends.exe

[mrrwsoup]

a list of mundane ocs questions, for fun. some more mundane than others :)

[hearthtales]

headache :( i’ll be back later to tackle replies and my askbox! in the meantime, feel free to like this post if you’d like me to send you something ic later as well, whether a meme or something else i come up with. please specify which muse(s) you’d like something from! also, if you’re a multi, please specify which of your muses you’d like it aimed toward <3