#but he is in love with someone else now

[g0thsoojin]

.

[egophiliac]

roll out the red carpet guys we're going to the SHAFTLANDS

[ducktracy]

there are a lot of evil people in the world and a lot of darkness in the world and so it’s very important for me to stress that now more than ever is the time to spread kindness and compassion. combat the evil by not only not partaking in it, but actively refuting it. destroy the notion that being compassionate or generous or kind to someone is uncool or embarrassing or even scary. be the change you want to see. start a chain reaction. positivity only breeds more positivity. do an act of kindness for someone so that that person who is too afraid to do it themselves can see you, realize that they’re not alone, and perhaps sheepishly follow your example. and then the next person who is too afraid but sees that person can do the same. when bad news comes out about bad people or horrible atrocities in the world it’s such an easy impulse to despair, and obviously it’s important to feel what you need to feel. grieve. be angry. be sorrowful. be empathetic. but dust off your pants and get up and be a part of a chain reaction that, no matter how small the scale, and spread compassion and love and care. all the reasons why you might not—“it’s hard! it’s scary! people will make fun of me! it’s useless because there’s too much evil!” are all grade A arguments as to why you should. you have no idea how many people you could inspire to do the same. even if it doesn’t get you anyway far, you can at least say you have the nobility of trying. please choose love and please choose life. you are worth loving and you are worth inspiring others to love

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Council of lovefools.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[greghatecrimes]

We always want to give our children what we never got for ourselves.

[daeyumi]

decay 🌑🗡️⚫️

[2022]

[inamindfarfaraway]

Stephanie Lauter is initially defined by her archetype as the popular girl in high school, but she must have been so lonely before Pete. Her mother is dead. Her father hates her and makes no attempt to hide it except to protect his reputation, constantly insulting, belittling and exerting authority over her when he isn’t busy with politics. She talks back to him, but doesn’t deny his descriptions of her. Miss Tessburger is the same. Her apparent friendships with the other cool kids, the kind of people who openly state the belief that looks are everything (not so different a paradigm to the one her father lives by), seem to be shallow and distant. Max rules the main popular clique with an iron fist to the point that they all stop bullying immediately and the school’s rigid social hierarchy crumbles once his influence is gone; and yet despite him having enough respect for her to try to protect her from what he believed were the undead during the prank, she was unaware of how big a problem his bullying was until she saw what he did to Pete, so she can’t have ever been that enmeshed in his circle. She dismisses her kindness to the losers as “the bare minimum” rather than lean into the potential for real friendships with them or leverage it to have power in this new group. It’s almost as if she doesn’t want to mislead them into thinking that she’s worth their time.

She’s cool because she acts like she doesn’t care about anything, and why would she? Life has never given her anything to care about. In fact, it’s punished her for caring. No matter what she does, her dad tells her that she’s worthless and stupid, so she stops trying to do well in school and starts sneaking out to parties full of alcohol and following through on flirting with the football players. She might as well make her body feel alive, as she can’t fix the fuck-up in her skull. Her phone is legitimately what she cherishes most in life. It can’t love her back or hug her or make the real world better, but at least it gives her an escape. It’s her space to control. Her pictures that she likes to look at, her music that drives her dad’s words out of her head. Her private conversations with people she chooses. At least it’s hers. (It isn’t. Her dad has been bugging it since she was twelve.)

Then Pete is nice to her, and in two weeks he becomes what she cherishes most.

Then she has to kill him. And shouldn’t she have seen this coming? Shouldn’t she have learned her lesson by now? Caring just means you have something to lose. That’s why she never wanted to love him like she does.

She pulls the trigger.

[holographings]

happy valentines day may all your love be monstrous and uncontainable

[moeblob]

So does he, Gallagher.

[forzathunder]

"I have many fears, most of them about Lucrezia." — Cesare Borgia (The Borgias, 2011-2013) + hints of insecurity

that she adores someone that much / if she will reject his dark nature and act of love and violence as Ursula did / if he truly is not part of her desires / that she easily forgets him

[antiqua-lugar]

aside from everything else about durgewyll I am loving how it highlights wyll and gortash as narrative foils. both their upbringings lead them to interact with demoniac entities, both can only become archdukes and join baldurian high society through uldred, both are swaying the dark urge from simply following bhaal (and arguably the dark urge sways them from simply pursuing an ideal and the dark urge can recognise both as their equal)

and by playing your card right in act 3 wyll just...gets everything gortash was trying to get? wyll really is a hero saving baldur's gate from the legion of the absolute. wyll influences gortash's favourite assassin into becoming someone they can defeat the netehrbrain together. they can even become archdukes together! ...or they can turn it down and then they can go to he hells to sneak around and have adventures (like gortash and durge used to) and save karlach's life (the same life that is at risk because gortash mindlessly threw it away).

like. it's a lot, wyll and durge can even murder raphael.

[pineappical]

would calling this something like "the sun to his earth" be a little bit too cliche? maybe...

[g0nefischin]

MERSKELES PART 3!

Definitely not mermay anymore but here's the last 3 sirens I wanted to do

and some explanation on why I choose what I did under the cut

(little warning for parasites on fresh's section)

So from left to right

Dream is a golden colored koi carp fish, I picked it because they are very pretty and they represent a lot of positive things like luck and fortune, some people even wish on them to make their dreams come true :> I also thought of the legend where a golden koi fish climbs a large waterfall to turn into a dragon, so they have some mythical legends as well. In terms of the actual fish, Koi are very sociable and sturdy, they also live for quite awhile.

Nightmare is a coelacanth, he should probably be an octopus considering he has tentacles, but I really wanted to make him a coelacanth because I think they are neat. Coelacanth's are very old with the latest fossils being over 400 million years old, they were thought to be extinct until one was found in 1938, grandpa nightmare. They are also nocturnal, sleeping in caves during the day, they live deep in the ocean as well. 

Fresh is actually a two in one, he is a rainbow parrotfish with a tongue-eating louse in his mouth. Out of alI the bright fish I did a parrotfish because I really like their gradients, and I think the magenta fins fit his jacket. He's a parasite inside of a Sans body, so I picked a fish parasite to go along with the fish half of his body. I chose the tongue-eating louse, a type of parasite that replaces a fish's tongue. It first severs the blood vessels to the tongue and once it falls off takes its place. feeding on nutrients and acting as a new tongue for the rest of the fish's life, very cool and terrifying.

[lucreziagiovane]

— Brother? Prince to you, not a brother. Husband to your sister.

[s0fter-sin]

ghost stares at the ceiling, chest heaving in a harsh pant; sweat ice on his clammy flesh and soaked into the sheet he restlessly kicks away.

ears still ringing, his fingertips blindly drift down to trail along his vivisection scar. he half-expects blood to smear in their wake. his own line of solomon, who ordered him split in twain; half of him given to a grieving mother and half left with the grieving to be.

just for both his broken halves to be rejected.

what did it make him that his mother grieved him more than she loved him? that she begged to be relieved of him more adamantly than she begged to receive him? why did his worth spill out with his drawn blood? why was his pain lesser than hers?

his hand flexes, digging into the raised scar like it’ll part beneath his fingertips to plunge into his mangled insides. no one knows the cruelty of reforming the halved; his name, his being, not nearly as important as his body when he was stripped from himself. no one knows the pain of healing and understanding losing pieces of yourself means losing your value along with them.

how many more pieces did he have to lose before he was halved once more? before his very presence incurred grief so strong it was better to be rid of him than cradle his bloodied remains?

did the infant fight himself? did he age always at odds with himself; his halves never truly whole? he hopes he wasn’t, that he was spared the loss of self; the fear that one may be welcomed over the other.

who will he lose when the inevitable comes? when he’s ripped apart again? simon? or ghost? is it better to be cursed with choice just like his mother or live with an aftermath chosen for him? does it matter if in the end, he convinces himself there was nothing of him left to lose?

his head lolls to the side and the wild buck of his chest slows. he watches johnny beside him, his face lax with the rare peace of sleep; his cheek squished against the pillow, his lips pursed as long breaths escape him.

johnny. soap. never torn asunder but two all the same.

he carefully reaches out and ghosts his fingers along the jagged scar on his chin. even in sleep, he presses into his bloodied touch. he’s never fled his half-flesh, never shies away from his gore as it spills unbidden from his cleaved torso. he holds on where his mother let him go; cups his stomach to hold his insides in place and never minds the blood that drips through his fingers.

simon will never let him become his own solomon and cannibalise himself. he will never let him question which half of him has more value; which pieces he can afford to lose before he’s cast aside.

ghost’s soap. simon’s johnny. his.

whole, in any incarnation.

[yarrow-leaf]

A kindling of a swordless bloodshed,

The creaking of a voiceless door —

Another piece inspired by something @mincemeat-the-warforged said that absolutely altered my brain chemistry (the same 1 am conversation that sparked this in fact!)