#little bit gutted

[handsomegentlebutch]

Man... E started to get more serious and exchanging lots of red heart emojis w the guy that's just been 'friends w benefits' despite all our flirting.... damn. Another bad bitch fumbled

[lotus-pear]

SIGHHHH BSD REREAD…................I MISS THEM SO MUCH :(((

[colebabey888]

[makanidotdot]

ELUNE CONVO FIX IT part 1

i did it i finished!! finished enough anyway

How about instead of Tyrande getting possessed by Elune, we actually got to see them have a conversation about why tf she won't let her kill sylvanas!!! And get some real payoff for all the "hmm something's off about Elune"!! And more!!

Warning this one is long and boring. part 2 is way better lol

sry she should more serious here but w/e we're just going with 'angy' lol

i think i drew these same poses in the sylvanas one lol oop sry my brain library is not vast

ok one thing i added at the last second was elune is like pulling from tyrande's personal elune power to get her real form back to properly tell winter queen to fuck off. and that's why tyrande looks like she has spider webs on her it's just glowy elune magic

and then winter queen does go fuck off bc i didn't want to draw her anymore

End of part 1!! Also when tyrande is watching elune and WQ yell at each other I imagine it like a kid watching their mom get in a fight at the grocery store or smt lol

[starrspice]

Have a Sun, Moon, and a StarrSpice!

I’ve been super busy with work and other stuff in my life so I haven’t had the time energy or motivation to really draw all that much, but with things settling down a bit I decided to stretch my drawing muscles and dive back in

And who better to do that with than sun and Moon? The most drawable boys ever

Very self indulgent but very much needed with the chaos in my life lately

It feels good to be back

[starrysharks]

my little pony skinny and boney laaaaa laaaa

[unnonexistence]

hermann thoughts: if i discredit newton and his approach enough, the martial won't give him the equipment for his kaiju drift, and i can protect him from himself. if he despises me for it, so be it. there is little i wouldn't sacrifice to see him safe.

newt thoughts: this is a Best Science competition and i have to Win

[chickensauras]

I looney tunes'd him :U

[haunted-xander]

I think Ryne would have a kinda skewed sense of what's normal. Like, she may technically know what's "normal" for most people, but what's normal for her is way different. She's raised by two men who are both Weird, only one of which can even pretend to be normal (and like hell Thancred bothered with that while on the run with Ryne lol)

Ryne thinks that talking circles round pixies is common knowledge from her many stays in Il Mheg. It is not. She also thinks knowing how to and being able to stomach skinning and gutting animals for food is normal. It's certainly more common, but unless you're a hunter it absolutely does not come as easily. Being able to walk and run around quietly is something she technically knows is unusual, but since her company has mainly consisted of a professional spy and a man who barely leaves home she tends to forget that most people can't do that.

I can't come up with anymore atm but. Ryne should get to be just a little weird(er) I think

[esoomris]

fun thing about dredge is like. the familiarity of the unknown. like sure the various Horrors are scary when you first encounter them, but soon enough you learn where they are and how to avoid them and like, sure they’re dangerous and sure you don’t fully comprehend them but like. give them a wide berth you’ll probably be fine. which is exactly the mindset that any person who was hired to go fishing for a living in the eldritch nightmare town would end up in. yeah the anglerfish have come up to the surface and their lures are clearly designed for me but like. i’ve got bills.

[ewwww-what]

Abernant sister reunion, out like lights :(

flat color under the cut

[bitesizedpoetry]

Sylvia Plath's "Letter to a demon"

Last night I felt the sensation I have been reading about to no avail in James: the sick, soul-annihilating flux of fear in my blood switching its current to defiant fight. I could not sleep, although tired, and lay feeling my nerves shaved to pain & the groaning inner voice: oh, you can't teach, can't do anything. Can't write, can't think. And I lay under the negative icy flood of denial, thinking that voice was all my own, a part of me, and it must somehow conquer me & leave me with my worst visions: having had the chance to battle it & win day by day, and having failed.

I cannot ignore this murderous self: it is there. I smell it and feel it, but I will not give it my name. I shall shame it. When it says: you shall not sleep, you cannot teach, I shall go on anyway, knocking its nose in. It's biggest weapon is and has been the image of myself as a perfect success: in writing, teaching and living. As soon as I sniff non-success in the form of rejections, puzzled faces in class when I'm blurring a point, or a cold horror in personal relationships, I accuse myself of being a hypocrite, posing as better than I am, and being, at bottom lousy.

I am middling good. And I can live being middling good. I do not have advanced degrees, I do not have books published, I do not have teaching experience. I have a job teaching. I cannot rightly ask myself to be a better teacher than any of those teaching around me with degrees, books published and experience. I can only, from day to day, fight to be a better teacher than I was the day before. If, at the end of a year of hard work, partial failure, partial dogged communication of a poem or a story, I can say I am easier, more confident & a better teacher than I was the first day, I have done enough. I must face this image of myself as good for myself, and not freeze myself into a quivering jelly because I am not Mr. Fisher or Miss Dunn or any of the others.

I have a good self, that loves skies, hills, ideas, tasty meals, bright colors. My demon would murder this self by demanding it be a paragon, and saying it should run away if it is being anything less. I shall doggedly do my best and know it for that, no matter what other people say. I can learn to be a better teacher. But only by painful trial and error. Life is painful trial and error. I instinctively gave myself this job because I knew I needed the confidence it would give me as I needed food: it would be my first active facing of life & responsibility: something thousands of people face every day, with groans, maybe, or with dogged determination, or with joy. But they face it. I have this demon who wants me to run away screaming if I am going to be flawed, fallible. It wants me to think I'm so good I must be perfect. Or nothing. I am, on the contrary, something: a being who gets tired, has shyness to fight, has more trouble than most facing people easily. If I get through this year, kicking my demon down when it comes up, realising I'll be tired after a days work, and tired after correcting papers, and it's natural tiredness, not something to be ranted about in horror, I'll be able, piece by piece, to face the field of life, instead of running from it the minute it hurts.

The demon would humiliate me: throw me on my knees before the college president, my department chairman, everyone, crying: look at me, miserable, I can't do it. Talking about my fears to others feeds it. I shall show a calm front & fight it in the precincts of my own self, but never give it the social dignity of a public appearance, me running from it, and giving in to it. I'll work in my office roughly from 9 to 5 until I find myself doing better in class. In any case, I'll do something relaxing, different reading, etc. in the evenings. I'll keep myself intact, outside this job, this work. They can't ask more of me than my best, & only I know really where the limits on my best are. I have a choice: to flee from life and ruin myself forever because I can't be perfect right away, without pain & failure, and to face life on my own terms & "make the best of the job.

each day I shall record a dogged step ahead or a marking time in place. The material of reading is something I love. I must learn, slowly, how to best present it, managing class discussion: I must reject the grovelling image of the fearful beast in myself, which is an elaborate escape image, and face, force, days into line. I have an inner fight that won't be conquered by a motto or one night's resolution. My demon of negation will tempt me day by day, and I'll fight it, as something other than my essential self, which I am fighting to save: each day will have something to recommend it: whether the honest delight at watching the quick furred body of a squirrel, or sensing, deeply, the weather and color, or reading and thinking of something in a different light: a good explanation or 5 minutes in class to redeem a bad 45. Minute by minute to fight upward. Out from under that black cloud which would annihilate my whole being with its demand for perfection and measure, not of what I am, but of what I am not. I am what I am, and have written, lived and travelled: I have been worth what I have won, but must work to be worth more. I shall not be more by wishful thinking.

So: a stoic face. A position of irony, of double-vision. My job is serious, important, but nothing is more important than my life and my life in its fullest realized potential: jealousy, envy, desperate wishes to be someone else, someone already successful at teaching, is naive: Mr. Fisher, for all his student-love, has been left by his wife & children; Miss Williams," for all her experience & knowledge, is irrevocably dull. Every one of these people, the divorced Schendler, the unmarried Johnson, has some flaw, some crack, and to be one of them would be to be flawed & cracked in another fashion. I'll shoulder my own crack, work on my James today, Hawthorne for next week & take life with gradual ease, dogged at first, but with more & more joy. My first victory was accepting this job, the second, coming up & plunging into it before my demon could say no, I wasn't good enough, the third, going to class after a night of no sleep & desperation, the fourth, facing my demon last night with Ted & spitting in its eye. I'll work hard on my planning, but work just as hard to build up a rich home life: to get writing again, to get my mind fertilized outside my job.

I shall not, carrion comfort, despair … etc.

No more knuckling under, groaning, moaning: one gets used to pain. This hurts. Not being perfect hurts. Having to bother about work in order to eat & have a house hurts. So what. It's about time. This is the month which ends a quarter of a century for me, lived under the shadow of fear: fear that I would fall short of some abstract perfection: I have often fought, fought & won, not perfection, but an acceptance of myself as having a right to live on my own human, fallible terms.

Attitude is everything. No whining or fainting will get me out of this job & I'd not like to think what would happen to my integral self if it did. I've accepted my first check: I've signed on, and no little girl tactics are going to get me off, nor should they.

To the library. Finish James book, memorize my topics, maybe the squirrel story. Have fun. If I have fun, the class will have fun.

Come home tonight: read lawrence, or write, if possible. That will come too.

Vive le roi, le roi est mort, vive le roi.

From "The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath", dated October 1, 1957

[spacedlexi]

maybe if i just put these screenshots together youll understand why i think their relationship just Works so well as it pertains to the characters and themes of S4 in general

neither of them know what theyre doing, but theyre figuring it out Together. the old ways are dead. and together theyll build a new future thats worth fighting for

[sentientsky]

words by tumblr user @traumabuck080 (i think)

get-ready SUFFER-with-me vlog :)

[colebabey888]

[dollarstoreparadise]

ok so hear me out guys