#just a strong image I had

[amethysttribble]

When the newcomer had sat down next to Maglor, he felt the shift in the air instantly.

He felt the thrum of power that was now so rare on these shores. He felt the twang of a fea so I tune with the Song that it always hummed. He felt the hatred and the loneliness and the neediness and the understanding rolling off his cloaked companion in waves.

The uninvited guest didn’t speak, though, as they watched the fireworks explode above Gondor from the edge of one of the city’s many walls. People were cheering and singing in the streets, happy and free. Tonight, they celebrated the birth of King Eldarion’s first child.

The world was at peace and their kin had fled these shores. Now, the latest of Finwe and Luthien’s united line rules a Mannish kingdom. Why were two wretches such of them here, together?

Why not? Maglor thought, closing his eyes and turning his face to the warm summer sky. Where else? Who else?

“Beautiful night,” he said.

And all Daeron needed to say to be understood was, “Yes.”

[ranticore]

werewolves (???) for ya

these are communal pack-living humanoids who are arguably the least 'punished' of the monsters in this world. they wear the face of their old master as a mask for 27 days out of 28, and on the night of the full moon they can remove it and finally enjoy the use of their own wolfy faces (for a limited period of time). otherwise they look like this all the time.

they are pretty awkward to look at, lacking opposable thumbs and the ability to make most facial expressions, but they do have a small amount of integration with human settlements, and can often be found trading their own produce for items which require opposable thumbs to make, like thread or bowls. they usually bring unprocessed game to trade, as they are excellent hunters. they don't communicate well with humans and it's very rare for them to allow a human into their own dens in the woods/plains/etc.

Back home they can use their strong sense of smell to differentiate between what is essentially a group of identical members, but among humans they will dye their masks with natural pigments so that people can tell them apart. The best way to gain the trust of anyone is to show that you can hunt and kill the crawling beasts of the earth so it's not uncommon to see werewolves dragging their corpses into town to throw on the bonfire, as a show of solidarity.

werewolves are adaptable and not so insular that they disdain the company of others, so it's not unusual to find them working alongside other monsters, forming hunting partnerships with harpies in particular. this isn't universal and some cultures of wolfmen prefer to raid nests and steal eggs.

[puppyeared]

id fumble him so bad

[thequibblingking13]

Fearne Calloway, the woman that you are

(Zoom for better quality bc this file is big as fuck)

[thegrumpydockworker]

Stupid, sexy Barnabos

[imaybe5tupid]

Falin in the Isle of Wa

ft Benichidori and Hien 👯‍♀️

Part 1 of my postcanon dyke drama cinematic universe

Part 2

Interlude

Part 3

[gingermintpepper]

There are many things people expect from one called 'God of Blood'. Always, the first thought is the blood of war, the blood of violence, the blood of the weak shed for the goals of the strong. Ares doesn't think of the blood of battle at all. When he thinks of blood, he envisions the many tied knots of blood bonds and bonds forged in the blood of battle. Blood sons and blood daughters, blood brothers and battle sisters, blood oaths and blood vengeance - he watches over them all and keeps close each one of these bonds.

One cannot begrudge his displeasure then when he realises he cannot tell Leto's offspring apart just by looking at them.

It was easier when it was just Artemis. Dark hair curled about her shoulders, a fierce mien whenever Father summons her to the mountain, a scattering of bones and blood shed whenever she was disturbed; the eldest child of Leto was a wild thing, sharp toothed with sharper claws always at the ready. There's whispers of her being a twin, of her other half being made to crawl on their belly as penance for their sin of god-slaying but Ares pays it little mind. What twins look alike among their number? Even dog litters are born distinct with all their unique markings inlaid in their fur. Artemis' twin too would be much more than their sister's mirror image.

Pouring over his list now, he wishes anything about Phoebus Apollo was that simple.

Mirror image did not begin to describe it. The twins were the same height, the same build, had the same colour and texture hair, ate the same raw food and drank the same amount of nectar. There was no difference in how they dressed, no difference in the company they kept, no variance in the weapons they used. There are some days Ares still cannot believe Phoebus will grow into a man and not some nymph with the way his ears have that slender point. He watches them now, sitting together beneath a shady palm and stringing their bows in an uncanny unison and curses because he still cannot tell them apart. What use is his skill in knowing blood when they both have the same damn blood running through their veins? What bond is there to sense when they are tied so tightly together, Ares can scarcely tell brother from sister?

He sighs. Unadorned and completely alone, the only way to know who is who is to speak to them. He'll have to find more ways to tell them apart from a distance. Surely they cannot stay this similar all the rest of their immortal lives.

[haliaiii]

Boothill

[skialdi]

❄ ❄ ❄

[mocking-the-bird]

This but it's your otp/oc's

[uncanny-tranny]

Passing as a trans man is a nuanced and complex topic, but one thing I have been noticing as somebody who is a cis-passing (white) trans man is the way I'm treated when there is conflict.

I've noticed that in conflict, people are almost meek around me, willing for me to try working with them up until a woman is involved. When a woman (or, really, anybody who the other party assumes is one) is part of the conflict, they direct all their anger and rage to them. It's fucking insane the way a woman is treated when there is conflict, even if it isn't her fucking fault. These people are fundamental cowards for seeing my manhood as the only reason they can't be openly hostile to me, but it reveals a lot about how a misogynist thinks on an almost primal level.

I'm watching the women and people around me I care about being torn apart by people, and that's unacceptable. I can't sit around to watch it, and I don't want to do that. I need other people to perhaps read this and remember to not stand by if there is something that you can tangibly do to help, even if it's to lend a listening ear or let the person vent.

[lunarharp]

shirahama-sensei reminded me she has a thing for the teacher from pokemon s/v so i randomly went off on an au where qifrey is the professor. etc

[rinbylin]

"what is the image of the ideal person..."

[momomallowart]

The new CG has me in a mood (and the mood is punk goes pop) ʕ≧ᴥ≦ʔ🤘

[puppyeared]

i feel like. theres designing a character with certain themes and motifs in mind, and then theres making a gijinka for the water bottle on my nightstand

[milf-harrington]

canon-divergence: max survives and vecna does not but the rifts still open for plot reasons, eddie does not exist as a hawkins citizen and is instead an upside down creature that comes through after the earthquake + steve's just kind of like "i guess"

---

Steve wondered when he'd stopped being phased by these things.

There was a time when all of the Upside Down shit had affected him normally. Had him flipping out in a panic, had him running.

Now, after four years of it, it was starting to feel like just another weekday.

There was something hanging out by his pool, but it was 7 in the morning and hadn't made a move to attack him, so, until he made coffee: it was none of his business.

He drank it in the sun room, blinds open for a clear view of the pool yard and the thing wandering around it. It was kind of human shaped, except for the wings and the tail and the claws that Steve could see from where he was sitting.

Maybe he should call Robin. She still had normal reactions to this stuff.

He paused, watching the creature tentatively reach down to touch the water before startling away, wings flapping. Actually, from the start, Robin hadn't reacted normally to any of it.

(He hadn't forgotten the time she'd told him about spitting in the Russian's face when she thought they'd killed him. Or the way she laughed when she thought they were going to kill her.)

The creature danced further around the pool, still peering curiously into the water. It lowered itself right down until its chest was brushing the cement, reaching for the water again, wings poised like it was ready to flee. It flinched when it's fingers brushed the surface, but didn't pull away and Steve watched as it plunged its whole hand in with a splash before pulling it back out to watch the water drip from its claws.

Steve put his empty cup down on a side table and stood up, nodding to himself before jogging upstairs to grab his bat from his room.

-

The pool yard was empty.

Steve yanked the sliding door open anyway, stepping outside like it would magically cause the creature to appear. Nothing.

Fingers curled tight around the handle of his bat, he circled the pool from a safe distance, scanning the surrounding woods as he went. The only evidence that he hadn't been imagining shit were the dark patches of water splashed across the cement.

Facing the deafening quiet of an empty backyard, armed with a monster-slaying weapon, Steve felt the first whispers of unease curl beneath his ribs. It was kind of like finding a spider in your room, always worse when you lost track of where it had gone.

Cautiously, Steve headed back inside, locking the door behind him with another glance across the backyard. He really should call the others, let them know the rifts had spat something new out.

He thought about the way it had played with the water, and wondered if maybe not every creature from the Upside Down was bad. If maybe, now that Vecna was gone, they were changing.

He was broken out of his thoughts when he kicked something, sending it skittering towards the hallway, under the indoor balcony. Steve frowned, confused, as he looked from the mug laying on the floor to the side table he thought he'd put it on.

Must have knocked it off, he realised as he walked over to pick it up.

As he did, he noticed the ceramic was oddly wet, and he quickly scanned the carpet to see if there'd been any coffee left in the cup that had spilled over the floor. Everything was as clean as he'd left it, so-

Something cold dripped on the back of his hand and he blinked, staring at the droplet in surprise. Another landed on his wrist, and a third hit the back of his neck and rolled down his shirt. He flinched in surprise, dropping the bat to slap a hand to the back of his neck as he looked up.

He came face-to-face with large, dark eyes, and an inky mop of dripping hair, two leathery wings flared slightly for balance.

Alarmed, he threw the cup at it.