#dhia

[dhianawaini]

Technically the only ship im AJ2URHJDKAI with.,,.💀

I dre this like a couple of days ago and forgot to post it.

Ref4ence, Badd suppose to join too but im lazy to draw him and im sleepy rn so goodnigh

[kafsho]

[afaroffsong]

When the horrors sit like a weight on your chest.

[ask-chartreuse]

Trigger warning.

Dhia/masa/daughter note:

RP accs of mine and askboxs will be closed till January.

There's this raid about adding gores, sexual,CA, and more into to accs ask boxes in Tumblr. I don't know if this is true or will be a joke that will fool the internet is insane, but we don't know..my mutual tagged me into a random post as I red it I was...shocked?..idk..I just stay neutral ig...so for this acc and the other RP accounts I made will be turned into storylines and dramas and shit posting and stuff until January the ask boxes will be opened again.

We don't know if this raid is true because the screenshot was taken in a discord server, well rot in hell whoever raiding the ask boxes of other accs...we must have to do this because we must make our eyes NOT buried into hell's kitchen (ifykyk)

That's it for the note.

[chronically-chaotic-cryptid]

The way I know the specific indescribable subset of tumblr users that would go crazy over 'listen, God, I'm talking to you'

[saintedfallow]

shut up she’s so hot…

[sebnameyourcar]

seb in his kinky kylie again can you believe how much we’re winning rn……… incomprehensibly incredible vibes

[not-that-debonair]

A sea, na canúintí Gaeilge: Uladh, Mumhan, Chonnacht, agus WhatsApp

[broadwaysmiles]

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[dhianawaini]

Small artdump bc idk what else to draw since im bored😀🤲🏽

Also my random oc ig idok🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

(A male btw gehsjoa gnetlemena)

Me when me when me

[kafsho]

[perfettamentechic]

17 luglio … ricordiamo …

17 luglio … ricordiamo … #semprevivineiricordi #nomidaricordare #personaggiimportanti #perfettamentechic

2021: Jacqueline Sassard, attrice francese, attiva, principalmente in Italia. Sposò Gianni Lancia, ebbe un figlio, Lorenzo, e rimase vedova nel 2014. (n. 1940) 2021: Pilar Bardem, all’anagrafe María del Pilar Bardem Muñoz, attrice spagnola. Figlia dell’attore Rafael Bardem Solé e dell’attrice Matilde Muñoz Sampedro. Sorella del regista Juan Antonio Bardem. Sposò l’uomo d’affari Carlos Encinas.…

[sizzleissues]

and now they kiss

I love that the key to getting through to Shadybug/Toxinelle was Marinette telling her about her relationship to her friends, particularly Alya. That she tells Alya that she thinks she might have ended up like Shadybug if it weren’t for her. Adrien wasn’t that person, it was Alya. Alya’s courage, her strength in the face of evil, is what inspired Marinette in the beginning. What continues to inspire her, and Alya is like this in every universe. On the side of good, spreading hope.

Like are you kidding me — MY ALYA AND MARINETTE! They are so in love with each other I’m not even kidding.

[sassenach77yle]

Outlander 7x16 "A Hundred Thousand Angels"

His eyes had adapted quickly; there was a dark oblong a few feet away—the door. Fraser saw it, too; his hand rested on William’s back for an instant, pushing him toward it. There was an oval lozenge of glass set into the front door, and enough light came through it to show them the painted canvas floorcloth running down the hall, its diamond pattern black in the colorless light. Near the door, a pool of shadow hid the foot of the staircase, and within seconds they were creeping up the stairs, as quickly and as quietly as two very large men in a hurry could go. “This way.” William was in the lead; he motioned to Fraser as he turned to the left. The blood was beating in his head, and he could scarcely breathe. He wanted to tear off the clinging mask and gulp air, but not yet . . . not yet. Jane. Had she heard the guard call out? If she was awake, she must have heard them on the stair. The landing was windowless and very dark, but there was a faint glow of candlelight under Jane’s door—he hoped to God it was Jane’s door. Running a hand down the doorframe, he felt the knob, and his hand closed round it. It was locked, naturally—but in trying the knob, the heel of his hand brushed the key, still in the lock. Fraser was behind him; he could hear the man’s breathing. Behind the door of the next room, someone was snoring in a reassuringly regular sort of way. So long as the guard stayed out long enough . . .

“Jane,” he whispered as loudly as he dared, putting his lips to the crack between the door and its jamb. “Jane! It’s me, William. Be quiet!”

He thought he heard a swift intake of breath from the other side of the door, though it might have been only the sound of his own blood racing in his ears. With infinite care, he pulled the door toward him and turned the key. The candle was standing on a small bureau, its flame flickering wildly in the draft from the open door. There was a strong smell of beer; a broken bottle lay on the floor, brown glass a-glitter in the wavering light. The bed was rumpled, bedclothes hanging half off the mattress . . . Where was Jane? He whirled, expecting to see her cowering in the corner, frightened by his entrance. He saw her hand first. She was lying on the floor by the bed, beside the broken bottle, her hand flung out, white and half open as though in supplication. “A Dhia,” Fraser whispered behind him, and now he could smell the cut-steel reek of blood, mingled with beer. He didn’t remember falling on his knees or lifting her up in his arms. She was heavy, limp and awkward, all the grace and heat of her gone and her cheek cold to his hand. Only her hair was still Jane, shining in the candlelight, soft against his mouth.

“Here, a bhalaich.” A hand touched his shoulder, and he turned without thought.

Fraser had pulled the mask down around his neck, and his face was serious, intent. “We havena much time,” he said softly.

They didn’t speak. They straightened the bedclothes in silence, put a clean quilt over the worst of the blood, and laid her on it. William wetted his kerchief from the ewer and cleaned the spatters of blood from her face and hands. He hesitated for a moment, then tore the kerchief violently in two and bandaged her torn wrists, then crossed her hands on her breast. Jamie Fraser was by him then, with a fugitive gleam from the blade of his knife. “For her sister,” he said, and, bending, cut a lock of the shining chestnut hair. He put this into the pocket of the ragged breeches and went quietly out. William heard the brief creak of his footsteps on the stair and understood that he had been left to make his farewell in privacy.

He looked upon her face by candlelight for the first time, and the last. He felt emptied, hollow as a gutted deer. With no notion what to say, he touched one black-bound hand and spoke the truth, in a voice too low for any but the dead to hear.

“I wanted to save you, Jane. Forgive me.”

133 LAST RESORT~ "Written in My Own Heart's Blood"

[irishmammonagenda]

“What do you think you’re doing?” The Avatar of Gluttony says, uncharacteristically angry, demon form out, bhí a sciatháin ildaite ag bualadh go feargach.

You’re trembling still, the previous altercation sparking in your nerves, although, cool, refreshing relief courses through your veins as you look up at the redhaired Demon.

Beel’s eyes. That was all you could look at. You had seen a plethera of emotions painted in his purple pupils, most commonly serenity, or joy, hunger or thirst, less commonly sadness poisoned his expression, rarely anger, annoyance yes, the expression he’d make before he went on a rampage that was a mix between hunger and anger, yes. But you’d never seen the pure unbridled fury ablaze in his eyes like you were seeing right now.

Not directed at you, never at you. Rather directed at the demon who had tried to give you a beating; Beel had stumbled upon it whilst looking for his twin, and A Thiarna is a Dhia, was he furious. You shivered, it was a scary sight.

Iridescent ildaite wings buzz angrily. The air is thick, Beel runs his tongue over his fangs threateningly, staring menacingly at the demon, who, gaining its senses, flees, tail between its legs. Beel lets it run, having a longtime learned from Lucifer how to play an cluiche cleasach.

Besides, letting the demon wallow in its fear for a while would make it taste a lot better when he disposed of the threat.

He wouldn’t tell you that, though, to protect your soft, pure, sparkling human soul.

Leaving you alone with a seething Demon, you trembled. Normally, you would trust Beelzebub with your life, but the sheer power buzzing around him paired with the rage doused you in icy cold water, a strong reminder that your reisdent softy was ifnfact capable of horrors beyond you comprehension.

You whimper, Beel snaps his head towards you in an instant, the fury in his eyes softening. Suddenly, his hands are on you, pulling you into strong arms. You shake involuntarily.

Beel coos at you in a language long dead, the syllables are harsh and guttural, like waves crashing into the shore. A huge hand comes up to pet your hair, so gentle it almost hurts.

You stay there for a while, in that empty classroom, enveloped in Beel’s arms. Slowly but surely you lean into his touch, your heartrate calmed, your head resting against his muscled chest, it was silly to think even for a moment that he would hurt you, laughable even.

divider by @saradika-graphics

dia daoibh (hello to you [plural]) grma for reading as per usual 🫶🫶, heres the meanings of the words:

‘A Thiarna is a Dhia’ (A year-nah is a Yee-ah’) is a way of saying, ‘Goodness Gracious’/‘Good God’ etc

as per usual I cant write pronounciations😔

‘An Cluiche Cleasach’ (An Clue-Heh Clah-Sa) -The Sneaky Game’, bc i have no idea how to say the long game in irish and cluiche fada sounds wrong.

Now for the big one😰:

‘bhí a sciatháin ildaite ag bualadh go feargach.’

(pronounced: Vee ah Scee-ah-han ill-dat-che egg beh-whale-oo go fair-eh-gawk’)

as per usual the ‘k’ sound in feargach is pronounced with your throat, its technically right to just pronounce it ‘k’ (like the word chick in english) but its not the way native speakers pronounce it‼️

this roughly translates to: ‘His colourful wings were flapping angrily’

bualadh comes from the verb ‘buail’ which can mean a lot of things, but paired with ‘ag’ and ‘sciatháin’ it means ‘flapping wings’

heres a photo of me trying to explain it, please ignore my handwriting i tried to make it neat😔✊

[konigsblog]

please more farmer soap IM BEGGING YOU ITS SUCH A GOOD CONCEPT 💐🩷

IM ON MY KNEES FOR MORE (as someone who lives in the scottish highlands) might start wandering around the fields in search of him /j

༉‧₊˚. hybrid sex ! farmer!soap and his little cow 🐄🧺🌾

highland cow!reader stumbling her way through the mountains and finding herself on a farmer's property, fearing she'd be slaughtered, she ran, hiding from his grasp before being tugged on by the ankle. a soft, auburn tail and soft little ears — a rare hybrid catching his eye.

white, thin panties and no t-shirt on, you must be freezing in this weather. come inside and he'll warm you up! but, you didn't expect him to warm you up like this... fucking you deeply, your white panties pushed to the side and his meaty cock pushed and stuffed into your sopping, drooling cunt. a little virign barely able to take every inch given. cum oozing from the sides of your slit as he thrusts into your sex. your gasps shocked as the unfamiliar sensation pools at your cunny.

“dhia, seall ort, uaibhreach... milis, bò bheag a' toirt a h-uile òirleach.” his breathing heavy, and his big, hot dick in your tight pussy — nearly suffocating inside your wetness.

translation; god, look at you, gorgeous... sweet, little cow taking every inch.