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[pastelmilffromusa]

REQUEST FROM

⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ anon !

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》 serial experiments lain kin banner !

made by mod kyo >_<

[ratlinez]

[witchrealms]

(x)

[rotting-in-your-arms]

some lain banners i made

based on the psx cover art

free for use by anyone i don't care about credit

[atrickything]

note: maddie buckley-han

originally i was going to deviate from the season five canon (and noted that on the carrd) where maddie goes to boston because i was frustrated that she left chimney and didn't ask him for help again when she needed it, but i've rewatched the complete show a few times since then and i get it now, i can understand why she didn't, and so she's firmly canon now. i'm fine to gloss over that storyline if it's a trigger for anyone but that's the only reason i won't write it.

also they hyphenated so they both have the same last name as jee-yun now. (but i already have the tags and this works better for crossovers, etc, so that won't change)

[nn444th4n]

Lain banners If you are going to use them give me credits!!

[melabea]

merfolk id pack!

includes names, 1stpp, 2ndpp, 3rdpp, genders, alterhuman flags, & other terms!

names:

Abyssal, Alkali, Allur, Bay, Brim, Brine, Brooks, Cecaelia, Cloud, Coastal, Coral/Coralie, Cordelia, Delilah, Dooriya, Flood, Gale, Irv, Jubilee, Lake, Mari/Maris/Marina/Marine, Maritime, Mere, Merrick, Misty, Oceana, Pollyanna, Riverine/Riviera, Seashore, Seaside, Seawater, Serena, Shore, Siren/Syren/Syrin, Storm, Summer, Sylph, Thalassa, Themis, Tide, Whirlwind, & Windstorm

1stpp: (xi/xe/xy/xine/xyself)

abyi/abye/aby/abyine/abyself, ba/be/bay/bane or bine/bayself, bri/bre/bry/brim/bryself, bro/brook/bry/bron/bryself, clo/cloud/cly/clone/clyself, coa/coast/coy/coan/coyself, cor/coral/coray/corine/corself, flo/flood/flooy/floine or floodine/flooyself, la/lake/lay/laine/layself, mari/marine/mary/marine/maryself, mer/me/mery/merine/meryself, oc/ocean/oceany/ocine/oceanyself, ri/rive/rivery/rine or riverine/riveryself, sea/se/seay/seaine/seayself, shor/shore/shory/shorine/shoryself, si/siren/sireny/sine/sirenyself, storm/storme/story/stormine/storyself, thalassic/thalassi/thalassy/thalassine/thalassyself, ti/tide/tidy/tine or tidine/tidyself, whi/whirl/whirly/whine or whirline/whiryself, & wi/wind/windy/wine or windine/windyself

2ndpp: (xou/xour/xours/xourself)

abyss/abyr/abyrs/abyrself, bay/bayr/bayrs/bayrself, brim/br/brs/brself, brook/br/brs/brself, cloud/clour/clours/clourself, coast/coar/coars/coarself, coral/cor/cors/coralself, lake/lakr/lakrs/lakrself, marine/mar/mars/marself, maritime/mar/mars/marself, me/mer/mers/merself, ocean/ocear/ocears/ocearself, rive/river/rivers/riverself, sea/sear/sears/searself, sea/seashore/seashores/seashoreself, seaside/seasir/seasirs/seasirself, sea/seawater/seawaters/seawaterself, sho/shore/shores/shoreself, siren/sir/sirs/sirself, sto/storms/storms/stormself, thalassic/thalassir/thalassirs/thalassirself, tide/tider/tiders/tiderself, whirlwind/whirl/whirls/whirlself, whi/whirl/whirls/whirl, wind/wir/wirs/wirself, & wind/windstorm/windstorms/windstormself

3rdpp: (xe/xim)

aby/abyss, bay/bays, brim/brims, brook/brooks, cloud/clouds, coast/coasts, coral/corals, flood/floods, lake/lakes, marine/marines, maritime/maritimes, mari/times, mer/mers, ocean/oceans, river/rivers, sea/seas, seashore/seashores, sea/shores, seaside/seasides, sea/sides, seawater/seawaters, sea/waters, shore/shores, siren/sirens, storm/storms, thalassic/thalassics, tide/tides, whirlwind/whirlwinds, whirl/winds, whirl/whirls, wind/winds, windstorm/windstorms, & wind/storms

genders: (all terms are links)

merfolk, mereic, mermaidcore, sirenish, merlikic, merblood/merfolkblood, sirenblood, mermonster, sirenmonster, autimeric/autimerfolkic, autisirenic, merplayful, merpuplayful, merplaymate, mergender, phosirenial, merive, gendermerpup, & merenvic

alterhuman flags: (all terms are links)

mermaid constelic, siren, merfolk alterproxy, siren alterproxy, mer/merfolk linosus, & mermaid kin

other terms: (all terms are links)

merfolk 4 siren/siren 4 merfolk, queer mer, mer privawor, siren privawor, merforial, mercollector/merhoarder, merspesque, miscemer/miscemerfolk, merchronal, sirenvior, mervior/merfolkvior, merinurvesi, aldermermic, merane attraction, & mermare attraction

banner made by us!

[welcomingdisaster]

Fingon can feel the edge of a dream as he wakes, but not its substance. Sleep clings to him, thick and dark as molasses, even when the outside world begins to infringe. It smells of hyacinths, so fragrant he can almost taste the flowers. Light warms his cheek. A nightingale sings. Some bit of grass tickles his neck. Some little sharpness pokes his hand; he opens his eyes and sees that a junebug, iridescent green-pink, drags its round body over his finger, jointed legs pinching slightly at his skin. And just behind that—

An elven face, half-turned from him, eyes shut in sleep. Hair loose, straight and yellow as straw, scattering of freckles over the cheeks, long and very slightly upturned nose. Aegnor. 

Something in Fingon’s neck clicks as he turns to look at his other side, some slight shifting of his body back into place. He yawns, and hears his jaw click, too. 

But there is Angrod, just where he ought to be. Elbow thrown over his face, hands unadorned, golden mane catching the light. He is dressed oddly, all in white. 

Some distant, childish thought strikes Fingon: We must have fallen asleep playing in Father’s gardens. But no, no—no, that is wrong, long gone. Then—we must have been drinking. The midsummer festival of the trees. The hunt. 

Angrod shifts slightly in sleep, lets his arm fall. The ruddy scar that ought to curl over his upper lip is gone. But why should he have scars? 

 A glancing blow from an orc blade, Fingon remembers, if it had gone lower it would have struck his throat. His dream dances again in front of his eyes, a mud stained silver banner buffeted by the wind. Behind Aegnor’s features there is suddenly a blackened land, a scattering of ash. Fingon's eyes flick away, into the garden. 

The bowing, weeping willows. The bright red hyacinths, scattered as rubies on the shore. The shadowed, tucked away places, covered with sunset-orange nemesia and crimson bleeding-heart.  That is where the dead queen had lain, Fingon thinks, and knows what has come of them.

[scotianostra]

On the freezing morning of March 25 1306, Robert the Bruce was crowned King of Scots at Scone where a circlet of gold was raised and placed upon his head.

He was crowned in the presence of at least three bishops and four earls with the coronation, which followed the murder of John Comyn, Bruce’s main rival to the throne, a formal and solemn affair.

The King was draped in “kingly robes and vestments” which had been hidden away by Robert Wishart, the Bishop of Glasgow, until “this longed for day”, according to Ronald McNair Scott in his book Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland.

“(They) were brought out by the old man and set upon King Robert, and a circlet of gold was placed upon his head while the great banner of the kings of Scotland with its lion and scarlet lillies, that had lain so long concealed, was planted behind his throne,” the author wrote.

The Bishops of Moray and St Andrews were also in attendance as well as the Earls of Atholl, Lennox, Menteith and Mar. Absent, however, was the Earl of Fife, who held the hereditary right to crown the kings of Scotland.

Still a youth and held in England as a ward of court in 1306, he unable to attend the coronation and perform his hereditary duties. But his sister, 19-year-old Isabella MacDuff, the Countess of Buchan, went against the will of her husband - a loyal supporter of Edward I and close kinsman of the murdered John Comyn - by taking up the hugely symbolic role during the coronation.

“To her the call of Scotland and her youthful hero-worship of Bruce proved greater than her wifely duty,” Scott wrote.

“Seizing her husband’s finest horses, she rode with the upmost speed to Scone to act on her brother’s behalf” he added.

Isabella arrived a day too late but but King Robert took part in a second coronation ceremony, 48 hours after the first,so that the ancient tradition may be preserved.

“The golden circlet was lifted once more and placed upon the brow of Robert Bruce, Earl of Carrick, Lord of Annandale, King of Scots.”

Following the coronation, Edward I sent soldiers into Scotland to hunt down the new king. Robert fled and, as the manhunt continued across Scotland, the King’s brother - Nigel de Brus - and other supporters were discovered.

They were taken to Berwick-Upon-Tweed where the men were judicially condemned, hanged, drawn and beheaded.

Along with other members of the family including King Robert's wife, Elizabeth, Isabella was captured and sent to the Borders town. There, she was confined to a cage that was hung from a tower at Berwick Castle as a warning to others. She remained in the cage for four years, according to accounts.

[quillandink333]

The Other’s Choice • pt. 3

Credit to @winterxisxcomingx for the beautiful banner ♡︎

SPOILERS FOR HAZBIN HOTEL ~ Read ahead at your own risk!

Faced with the harsh reality of Heaven's steadfast opposition, the angel of joy is forced to make a drastic decision with gruesome consequences, but luckily she isn't alone for long.

WARNINGS: Abrahamic imagery (obviously), pseudocest, body dysphoria, malnourishment

Part I • Part II • Part III

Emily was alone in Lucifer’s guest suite when, for the first time in over three weeks, she stood up out of bed by herself. Her transformation was finally over with. Her eyes were now a sickly yellow with bright red irises, her teeth were like arrowheads, her fingertips looked as if they’d been burned like charcoal, and her interior feathers looked as if they’d been soaked in the blood of sinners. At least she’d managed to figure out how to conceal her new horns and tail with her host’s gracious guidance. All she wanted was to feel like herself again.

Her pristine royal gown, the one she’d been wearing on the day of her fall, loomed above her, hung from the top of the tall closet door opposite her bed. There it had been since that day, looking down on her. She used her wings to reach it.

When she had it back on, she wandered over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. It was the first time she’d lain eyes upon her reflection since she’d run away from home. But instead of finding satisfaction in the mere glimpse of familiarity, she tensed. She looked like Sera. The resemblance made her cheeks flare with anger and her stomach clench with bitterness. She let out a cry as she seized the length of her skirt with both hands, claws out, and tore it clean off.

But when she opened her eyes, they went wide with horror. Her cursed horns and tail were out on full display, and she knew that getting them to go away again would take hours if not the whole rest of the day due to her inexperience. What frightened her most, however, was seeing what she’d done to her once favourite dress. The skirt was now so short that, with the slight upward angle of the standing mirror, it put her unmentionables in full view.

She turned her back to the mirror and changed into the pair of Charlie’s old pyjamas she’d been given as fast as she physically could with a clumsy snap of her fingers. Then her gaze fell to the dress, watching it fall into a heap of fabric with the rest she’d ripped off. Her wings dragged behind her as she picked it up. Perhaps something could be done yet to salvage it.

Word Count: 3k

That afternoon, Lucifer was lounging in the parlour connected to her suite. Charlie had needed him at the hotel in the morning to discuss certain matters regarding the new building. Otherwise he’d have spent the whole day here right where Emily could find him, just in case she needed something. He’d gotten her a new phone to contact him with, but even so, the thought of leaving her alone in this strange and enormous castle left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Lu…cifer, S-Sir?”

He twisted around at the sound of her timid voice coming from the doorway to her room. “Yes, Em?”

She froze in place, her eyes darting around and her arms tucked mysteriously behind her back. Cocking his head at her, he gave her a warm, hopefully inviting look and gestured for her to come join him in the parlour, which she did, her tiny feet shuffling across the rug as she plopped herself on the chaise kitty-corner to him.

“What’s up, buttercup?” he smiled, encouraging her to speak her mind.

She couldn’t help but smile back at the nickname. “Well, uh…I have good news and bad news. Let’s just get the bad news out of the way first.”

He nodded attentively. “I’m all ears.”

“You know that dress I was wearing when I fell?” He gave another nod. “Yeah, so…about that…” How could she even begin to explain what had happened to it? “Well, let’s just say that…I let my emotions get the better of me, and it paid the price.”

“Oh dear. What happened?”

She forced a laugh. “I tore three quarters of the skirt off.”

“What?!” He made her flinch; she wasn’t expecting such an impassioned reaction from him. “But you loved that dress! What—”

“I know, it’s okay!” she cut him off before he could ask what in the seven rings had possessed her to do such a thing. “Don’t worry, okay? The good news is I fixed it. Sort of.” She then brought her hands out from behind her back and let said dress unfold in front of her. It had been magically reimagined to the point where it was all but unrecognisable. The skirt now fell to just above her knees, replaced with all new, crimson fabric. The bodice had stayed the same, except the eight-pointed symbol in the centre had changed colour to match the skirt, and the sleeves were gone completely. “Actually I kinda wanted to try making it better than before, in a way. What do you think?”

Lucifer took his time admiring her handiwork, pulling an impressed pout and making her giggle. “Not bad! Not bad at all,” he praised, standing up to run his fingers along each hem. “To be frank, I never cared much for the traditional Heavenly style so to speak, so this certainly is an improvement if you ask me.”

She lowered her head to hide her embarrassed grin. “Thanks, I’m glad.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. Let me see it on you!”

This made Emily’s expression go blank as she realised she’d failed to think this far ahead.

“What’s wrong?” He raised an eyebrow. “It suits you perfectly, you know. Aren’t you proud of how it turned out?”

“I guess, but…” She turned her head in an attempt to lower her gaze.

At this, he frowned and thwarted her attempt by reaching out and tilting her chin back towards him. “But…?”

She sighed in defeat. “It’s just…I didn’t mean to tear off as much as I did. Or, well, I did, but when I tried it on again even after adding a couple inches to it, I still felt…exposed.” The word that came to mind initially was, ‘indecent,’ but in her head she knew modesty wasn’t worth much down here. “Maybe I’m just not used to showing so much yet.”

“Mh, that could be. I remember feeling like that,” he said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s only natural for us fallen folk, when you think about it. I mean, we were brought into the world being told that our very bodies were something to be ashamed of and hidden, which—I’m gonna say it—is fucking ludicrous.” Though his language caught her off balance, she couldn’t disagree. “But hey, it’s absolutely okay if you need a little more time before you’re ready to start showing more skin. Not that you ever have to! It is your body, after all.”

She would’ve been lying if she said she didn’t feel any pressure at all to dress one way or the other, but the affirmations he offered did help to relieve some of it. Before she could help herself, images of gathered jacquard and pooling chiffon were already cycling through her mind, taking on a myriad of shapes and silhouettes.

“Lucifer…would you mind helping me with something?” she awkwardly asked. “My conjuring skills are nowhere near yours and…well, I’m gonna need some materials and tools and stuff if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, absolutely!” He stood up and held his cane at the ready. “As I’ve mentioned, my power is limitless for all intents and purposes, so don’t be afraid to ask for whatever anytime.”

She smiled to herself, having long since lost count of how many times he’d made her do that, flattered by his eager (albeit quite boastful) generosity. “Thank you. Let’s see, first I’ll need a dress form—” No later than the final syllable had passed her lips did the very object of her request appear next to her just inches away. “Oh—perfect! What else…? Measuring tape for sure, fabric scissors, a bolt of muslin, probably some tailor’s chalk, and a well-stocked pincushion should do it for now.” Each item appeared on the nearby coffee table as she listed them one by one. To her delight, the pincushion he conjured up was shaped like a little toy ducky, which she couldn’t help but adore.

“I’d be happy to help you practice your conjuring some time, if you’d like,” he offered offhandedly as she got to work draping pieces of the muslin here and there upon the dress form. “Seeing as you’re a seraph like myself, you must have a similar amount of potential, wouldn’t you think?”

“Really?” She beamed, though she didn’t look away from what she was doing. “Yes, please, that would be so helpful. I could only manage to make one pin at a time when I was doing the alterations on that,” she tilted her head toward the dress with the shortened skirt where it lay on the sofa, “and it took for-ever, oh my gosh, it was so-o-o tedious.”

“I can imagine,” he sniggered, unable to take his eyes off of her as she danced around the mannequin. “Still, I’m impressed you were able to do that much at your current skill level. Hopefully this will go a bit quicker with my help,” he added, despite not having the first idea what ‘this’ was that she’d suddenly gotten so swept up in. He didn’t even feel the need to ask, content to simply observe her in her state of hyper-focused diligence. She kept draping and pinning, tracing and cutting, as if she’d been doing this since the day she was born. The parlour fell into a comfortable silence except for when she needed him to provide something for her, like a different kind of fabric or some spare bobbins or a new spool of thread. She kept expressing her worries that all this magic was supposedly taking some kind of toll on him, but each time he’d reassure her and wave it off, saying he was more than happy to assist and that it cost him nothing whatsoever. Anything to keep him from decomposing alone in a prison of his own design, as had been the usual until the little angel had tumbled into his life.

Minutes soon accumulated into hours, and before either of them noticed, it was already past supper time. In fact, what finally alerted them both to the hour was a loud and unexpected growl from her stomach, causing her to blush. “Let me just try it on and make some final adjustments really quick,” she excused herself before carrying her armful of lovingly tailored textiles off to her room.

“Alright, take your time!” he called after her, keeping his amusement under wraps. “I’ll have dinner ready for us by the time you’re done!”

For someone with his magical ability, meal prep was something that could be finished with a snap of one’s finger. Despite this, Lucifer had grown rather fond of the muggle’s cooking process. Not only did he enjoy the artistry of concocting new and exciting (though not always pleasant) flavours, but he found it was a great way to kill time. Time that he had far too much of.

Once the stuffed pheasant was in the oven, he returned to the parlour just in time to see Emily emerge from her room in the most breathtaking attire he’d ever lain eyes on.

His eyes started at the cornflower-coloured bodice with its surprisingly striking halter neckline. The sheer sleeves were long and off the shoulders, beginning in a dainty lantern shape before ballooning down to her wrists. And then the skirt—oh, the skirt! It was mostly made of the same fabric as the bodice, but a broad band of beautiful royal-blue damask took up about the lowermost fifth of its length. And that wasn’t even the best part. Though the hem touched the floor, the front of it was suspended with two symmetrically placed silk bows (much like the oversized one hanging from her collar and lying quaintly across her chest) to right around her mid-thigh, the elegant drapes revealing a glimpse of her blackened but still lovely legs.

“Wowwie…” he mumbled under his breath as he took a few strides toward her, almost in a trance.

“Do you like it?”

“Oh, yes!” he gushed, having been so wrapped up in his admiration that he nearly forgot to say something. “It’s gorgeous, you look like a queen.” This comment brought out a bright glow in her cheeks, and as he connected the dots as to why, his face flushed as well. He cleared his throat. “But, uhm, d-do you? Like it, I mean?”

“Wait, you’re asking me if I like what I made?” she questioned, drawing an endeared sigh out of him. It seemed taking pride in anything she did was a foreign concept to the poor girl. “Well…” He waved his cane and conjured a mirror in front of her before she could express her indifference.

“It really suits you, you know,” he noted matter-of-factly. “Are you any more comfortable wearing this than the one you altered?”

She decided to humour him and beheld her reflection from multiple angles with as open a mind as she could have. “I think so,” she admitted, a sheepish smile teasing at the corners of her lips. “I was going for something less revealing than that one is now, but still a little bit more revealing than it was originally.”

As she stood there, taking in her appearance, she didn’t feel anything like the overwhelming shame and self-loathing that had come over her early that morning. She felt like a completely new, and dared she think improved, version of herself. She smiled at her, and she smiled back.

“Emily, dear, don’t you realise what you’re doing?” He came up behind her, their eyes meeting through the mirror as he positioned his hands on her exposed shoulders. She tilted her head. “You love this! Look at you, look at how long you spent on this today all in one sitting; it’s obvious how much you’ve been enjoying yourself,” he chuckled fondly. “I mean, not that I haven’t been…y’know…but anyway, it looks to me like you’ve found yourself a pretty great hobby.”

Emily didn’t know what to say. She was unsure how to even interpret his words, let alone how to respond.

“This is exactly what I wanted for you,” he emphasised, turning her around to face him. “You have no idea—if I hadn’t had my ducks to keep me busy, I’d have lost it ages ago. This is gonna be so, so good for you. For us, now that we have each other! Oh, Em…” While she was still processing his swell of emotion, he threw his arms around her and pulled her into a bone-crushing embrace, making her stumble forward.

The way the hug went on and on, she could feel how truly happy he was to behold her frivolous little creation. He was like a fountain of pure joy. No one, not even Sera, had ever reacted so strongly to her engaging in her own self-centred interests before. She couldn’t make sense of it. This was the first time she’d ever felt so seen, so appreciated, so individual. The feeling was so sweet and so profound, so much warmer and brighter than any sunlight that had ever touched her face in Heaven, it frightened her. Something about his relentlessly doting attention felt wrong. Misplaced, even. But despite this, her own arms wrapped around him in return with a will of their own. Great—now she could hardly bear to let go.

“So, after we’ve eaten, how ’bout finally making your grand entrance at the hotel in your stunning new getup?” he grinned, looking her up an down without letting go of her shoulders. “I think you’re about ready to introduce yourself to everyone, don’t you?”

Somehow that question was all it took for the floodgates to come crashing open. Ironically she couldn’t seem to identify her own emotions, nor could she even tell if what she was feeling was good or bad. Was it fear? Or beauty? Relief, maybe? Or grief? Whatever it was, the tears came, and they wouldn’t be subsiding any time soon.

Lucifer was panicking as he watched her suddenly crumble to pieces. “Wait, what’s wrong? Oh, oh dear.” He immediately gathered her into the shelter of his arms again, running an open hand from the crown of her head to the small of her back. “There, there, it’ll be alright. I got you. We don’t have to go to the hotel yet unless you’re sure you’re totally ready.”

“No, I-I am ready,” she sobbed, very much unready. “I just…” Her life was flashing before her eyes: another experience that was completely and utterly new to her. “I’m… I’m here,” she whimpered. “I’m not…up there anymore, a-and…I don’t even know who I am.”

All of a sudden, the devil felt himself being cast back ten thousand years, reliving the darkest moment of his torturous, never-ending life. He could never forget what it had been like to go from being blinded by celestial light glinting off blades of angelic steel to waking up broken and defiled in a wasteland of fire and brimstone as far as the eye could see. Seeing her blame herself for her so-called sins, it allowed a blazing inferno to come to life within the most forgotten depths of his soul.

No matter what the future held, he knew he couldn’t bear to let this pure, selfless spirit go through the same undue anguish he’d had to endure alone. He wouldn’t.

“C’mon, darling.” He kept an arm snugly around her waist while he began guiding her along toward the kitchen. “I’d venture a guess that you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast,” he sweetly chastised, drying her tears and gently encouraging her to meet his warm, protective gaze. “And hey, if parenthood has taught me anything, it’s that no one can face the world on an empty stomach,” he snorked—a successful attempt to get a smile out of her, albeit a broken one. “You’ll feel all the more ready to go meet the gang once your belly’s full, ’kay? Sound good?”

[neetily]

I'm still fleshing out my account, I made it yesterday while it was work and obviously needs work. I hate my name and wanna put more thought into everything. Any recommendations on finding personal aesthetics?

finding personal aesthetics... hummm... what a wide topic... maybe it'd help if i just document how i found mine? im sure there are many things you can do/try to find your own, but i only know my way.

looking at media i enjoy usually brings up aesthetics tied to it. like evangelion is a lot of bright/neon colours, angel aesthetics, mechs and tech. serial experiments lain is a lot of tech too, a lot of "sad" aesthetics, and digital interfaces. etc etc, right? you could apply that to anything, like stardew valley would be high saturation colours, pixel art, and you could even take it as far as individual character aesthetics, like skater stuff for sam, or goth stuff for abi.

also, i like a lot of cute things, which usually comes with my favourite colour: pink. so that one is easy !! lately, i've been really vibing with monochrome aesthetics though because it's easy on the eyes and includes high contrast. typically, when searching for black and white aesthetics, you run into a lot of manga caps etc. that, and i love BL/GL manga, so incorporating that sort of aesthetic just sort of came naturally and was easy to do.

i hope literally any of this makes sense LMAO. i just pinpoint one thing i want to showcase, and in terms of my current blog layout it was: monochrome. and from there the tendrils of the net spread out and lead me to manga caps, BL/GL, etc.

search "messy bio" on tumblr for cool symbols and layouts. also i hand craft a lot of the aesthetics on my blog, such as 18+ banners, the black divider, the code for the different coloured letters on my pinned.

edit: oh also for names, i just pick one thing i like again and try to attach other words to it. it depends on if you want a hyphen or not tbh. i tend not to want them, but they offer a lot more options. im a neet, so i incorporated neet into my name. you could put any word there, literally anything you like, and add a hypen+word at the end that describes what you do.

pink-fanfics

puppy-writer

tsundere-writes

fictional-fucker

etc, etc lmao

my url is just neet+ily.

[glitteringaglarond]

'Do you think those halls are fair, where your King dwells under the hill in Mirkwood, and Dwarves helped in their making long ago? They are but hovels compared with the caverns I have seen here: immeasurable halls, filled with an everlasting music of water that tinkles into pools, as fair as Kheled-zâram in the starlight.

'And, Legolas, when the torches are kindled and men walk on the sandy floors under the echoing domes, ah! then, Legolas, gems and crystals and veins of precious ore glint in the polished walls; and the light glows through folded marbles, shell-like, translucent as the living hands of Queen Galadriel. There are columns of white and saffron and dawn-rose, Legolas, fluted and twisted into dreamlike forms; they spring up from many-coloured floors to meet the glistening pendants of the roof: wings, ropes, curtains fine as frozen clouds; spears, banners, pinnacles of suspended palaces! Still lakes mirror them: a glimmering world looks up from dark pools covered with clear glass; cities, such as the mind of Durin could scarce have imagined in his sleep, stretch on through avenues and pillared courts, on into the dark recesses where no light can come. And plink! a silver drop falls, and the round wrinkles in the glass make all the towers bend and waver like weeds and corals in a grotto of the sea. Then evening comes: they fade and twinkle out; the torches pass on into another chamber and another dream. There is chamber after chamber, Legolas; hall opening out of hall, dome after dome, stair beyond stair; and still the winding paths lead on into the mountains' heart. Caves! The Caverns of Helm's Deep! Happy was the chance that drove me there! It makes me weep to leave them.

'No, you do not understand,' said Gimli. 'No dwarf could be unmoved by such loveliness. None of Durin's race would mine those caves for stones or ore, not if diamonds and gold could be got there. Do you cut down groves of blossoming trees in the springtime for firewood? We would tend these glades of flowering stone, not quarry them. With cautious skill, tap by tap – a small chip of rock and no more, perhaps, in a whole anxious day – so we could work, and as the years went by, we should open up new ways, and display far chambers that are still dark, glimpsed only as a void beyond fissures in the rock. And lights, Legolas! We should make lights, such lamps as once shone in Khazad-dûm; and when we wished we would drive away the night that has lain there since the hills were made; and when we desired rest, we would let the night return.'

And this. This right here is why Gimli has been one of my favorite characters ever since I was a child. There is a reason my tumblr url is glitteringaglarond, and it’s this passage right here.

Gimli has proved himself to be many things throughout this story - he’s a badass, he is witty and intelligent, he has a brilliant sense of humor and is the funniest character in these books - but one of the most important things about him is his love for beauty.

We saw it in his longing to see Moria, regardless of the dangers. We saw it as he couldn’t help but turn aside and gaze into the waters of Kheled-zaram. We saw it as he praised the beauty of Galadriel. Gimli is a character with a deep, artistic, soulful love for beauty. And it comes across most strikingly here, in this passage.

Because Gimli is out of his element right now, traveling through this strange, dangerous, magical wood. He is injured and weary from battle, and is once again riding a horse - something that he explicitly dislikes. This is the absolute last situation where somebody should be unveiling their poetic soul, and yet that’s what Gimli does.

Because to Gimli love for beauty is stronger than weariness and fear and uncertainty. And while being in this forest makes him fearful, only being forced to leave a thing of beauty can make him weep.

So he tells Legolas about the caves, using language so poetic that we can’t help but see the caves through his eyes and appreciate their beauty in ways we might never have done otherwise. And even Legolas is moved.

I cannot overstate how important his love for beauty is to me, and unlike Gimli I am not enough of a wordsmith to communicate exactly how deeply the beauty of his soul, expressed through this love, touches me. The best I can do is express my joy at having been taught appreciation for beauty at such a young age by such a teacher, and I can only hope that like Gimli, I too can help others find an appreciation for the beauty around them that they might not otherwise have seen.

[ratlinez]

[pyromaniacbibliophile]

bricktober day 28-blood

@lesmis-prompts

People azelma's back even though I still don't know her she's my pookie now

______________

She picked through the gutters as she walked. Underground and unpleasant, damp, dingy, and downright disgusting, the sewers were nevertheless one of her favourite places. She presumed it was a habit she had gained from her father. Despite the smell and the sight, she didn’t mind it. She had never exactly been precious about her appearance, and with siblings like hers dirt and mud were everyday sights.

So she walked through the tunnels, picking up rings or gold teeth or just battered coins. Whatever the tides brought her.

Today was different. She knew it would be different from the second she stepped down and was greeted by a wave of smell. The smell of iron. Walking further along with a lantern flickering, she noticed the red-red-red flowing through the carved channels at her feet. Blood.

To be fair, there was nothing unusual about seeing blood down here, Paris was half women and her father’s gang alone killed plenty. But this much at once?Idle and morbid curiosity ignited, she wandered uphill, following the streams of blood through the sewers.

Through tunnels in various qualities, all filled with blood, she worked her way to a drain through which the dark red dripped thickly down. Here the smell was near overpowering, so she ducked back through a side tunnel and up a different drain. Emerging at a corner, she paused to orientate herself before walking down the street.

Left here and she could see the Cafe Musain up ahead, a red banner hanging from its window. She looked down and saw cobbles scrubbed clean and gutters high with blood running along the side of the road.

Unease filled her, she was remembering vague flickers of conversation overheard. A barricade, a revolution. She walked slowly down the street, now silent.

Silent- and just up ahead, lain in neat rows, were corpses. One side dressed in the neat uniform of the national guard, the other in all manner of torn and ragged clothing- the only similarity between them the red stains across their chest.

Flies buzzed. Silver bullets that rung together as she knocked them and sent them rolling adorned the pavement and the bodies. Crushed shell necklaces from lovers abandoned on the ground. She recognised two bodies next to each other and ran, the dead eyes of her brother and sister following her. And the corpses lay there in their straight lines.

Silver bells and cockle shells and pretty maids all in a row...

[headmatespawner]

how about a NEET femcel type alter; long black hair, glasses and acne, think 4chan user into the stereotypical landmine anime like watamote and lain. the girl in question when people talk about 'never date a Sanrio girl'. picrew and banner appreciated! 🎨

Names: Katt, Lana, Sniper, Amy, Alyx, Tomo

Age: 17-26

Pronouns: She/her, It/its, Cringe/cringes, Nor/mal, 🔪/🔪s

Titles: The Gamer Girl, One who Watches Anime, PRN whos Alone, PRN who laughs at You, 4Chan Fan

Genders: Female, Gamegender, Bakagender, Kellergender, Memegender

Orientations: Heterosexual, but Bicurious.

TransIDs: Transworshipped, Transdating, Transpopular, Transvoiced, Transhacker, Transcriminal, Cisweird, Cis4ChanUser, CisIncel, CisBPD

Non/Alterhumanity: None

Source: None

Roles: Accuser, Black Sheep, Impeter

Origin: Willogenic

Picrew:

Banner:

[phantomwarrior12]

WIP WEDNESDAY - WARLORD'S RUIN

“They call it Warlords Ruin, do they?”

Lord Shaxx's voice is steady though there is a tinge of something…reverent? Not quite. Nostalgic? No, not at all. Tragic, perhaps, describes his tone best.

“I'm sure it's just…a shorthand of sorts. Guardians are always finding unique ways to describe locations.” He continues absently, his hands hanging stiffly at his sides. A subtle Arc charge flickers in and out of existence between his fingers as the final Warlord surveys the fortress before him.

The Young Wolf remains silent just behind him, just off his right shoulder. He pays them no mind in that moment, his focus solely on the stretch of stone and the tattered remnants of banners long since burned.

Another time. Another era. Another Shaxx.

How long has it been since he's lain eyes on a relic like this fortress? Fragmented and yet his mind is as sharp as ever, clinging to shards that cut so deeply–

There's a thud against his bicep and Lord Shaxx blinks, angling his head to look down at his partner.

They are gazing out over the ruins but now they stand beside him. Innocence permeates their posture and they casually brush their fingers along Shaxx's, as if they hadn't punched his shoulder a moment prior.

They're adorable.

His head angles as his fingers relax and bind around theirs, taking their hand outright. He can read the approval and happiness in the way their body shimmers a fraction as they move closer to him.

“So very impatient,” he remarks, as if they all weren't laughing.

They tip their head back and then rest against Shaxx's shoulder plate. They share a soft moment, holding one another's gaze through visors until the Young Wolf straightens up. With his hand firmly bound in his, they pull him forward into the fortress.

He's keenly aware they've cleared it utterly but the Warlord is still on alert. These places often hold traps and unsteady remnants that could collapse any moment. The structure itself is his last concern. It's the secrets it holds that worries him most.

---