#ok now I am going to go get ready

[tadbitfooled]

Star Wars hyperfixation activated

What my muses would be in a Star Wars setting (specifically Old Republic).

Aella - She would be a star wars music celebrity, traveling the galaxy and playing for crowds. Is force sensitive but did not join the Jedi

Anatol - He'd be a Republic Trooper, working to do his best and be a very ethical trooper

Arakhivaen - he'd probably be a senator who has a background in the military

We're skipping Arzan

Brinus - full circle he was originally a SW muse so he's back to being a Sith inquisitor

Briza - I get a bounty hunter vibe from her which works becaues ranger

Chiela - some sort of local planet religion priestess who isn't nervous about asserting herself into politics as need be

Durante - An artist down on his luck, he became a smuggler and got the wrong job and now he has weird powers due to an old artifact he was supposed to take to a Sith.

Frits - A Jedi Sage but not one with a strong suit in healing. He just likes to study and learn, probably works in the temple library and gardens

Gwenifar - A Jedi Sage healer, who definitely puts herself in dangerous situations without concern for herself to help others

Ingeleif - he's a Jedi of some kind, I'm not sure knight or consular, but he has to balance himself a lot due to his ambition.

Klaudius - An Imperial Agent, probably operative, and has no problem torturing his targets for information.

Kyrirthlila - a smuggler who tends to target and scam those more well off to help others

Perun - force sensitive but left the Jedi and tends to travel the galaxy doing odd jobs here and there

Talilah - Somehow ended up as a Jedi, but she's a very lax and 'let's have fun' kind of Jedi. Still wants to do good things, but has a cutting tongue. Probably a Jedi Sentinel.

Tavinkas - raised in the Sith, was turned into a Sith experiment, but found by Jedi Talilah and now is trying to unlearn what he's learned and deal with the programming the Sith put into his mind so he can be his own person and do good things.

[rowanisawriter]

She puts her hand in his hair and lets the strands slip between her fingers like she’s dreamed of doing so many times. Like she’s seen him do with the Weave. Her Lady’s essence, dancing between his fingertips.

i had the privilege of commissioning the wonderful @infernaldaydreams for art of the end of heretic, my exploration of religious trauma through a cleric of mystra tav/gale. i'm trying to be as normal as possible in this post but they have captured the scene utterly and this art is about to become my entire personality! thank you so much bestie!!

[daboyau]

I got an idea when looking at this post by @tangledinink. I couldn’t rest until I’d jotted it down. The art possessed me like an evil spirit. warnings for body horror, vomiting, general fuckery. 💚

what probably happened directly before Leo found himself in this situation:

Leo: Fairies? No way those sparkly little assholes are real.

The fae who happened to be within earshot: and i took that personally.

Anyway, here we gooooo:

Leo opens his mouth to scream, but the sound won’t come out. He gags on the feeling of it catching inside his throat, and then again when the trapped scream begins to grow thorns. It scrapes its way up, and he claws desperately at his throat, trying to tear the feeling out, falling to his knees as he gags around the forced silence.

The threat of suffocation is enough to tear his attention, however briefly, away from the horror of what is happening to his shell. His body is changing itself on the urging of some other thing’s whims, and even though his nerves didn’t seem to get the memo that a dissolving shell (you know, the thing that most of his internal organs and, like, half of his bones need to stay inside his body?) should probably hurt a lot, he can still feel it.

He retches as the first flower falls from his lips. It hits the ground with a disgustingly wet sound, coated with bile and saliva. It shines wetly, rich orange hues standing out brightly against the black soil. The rest follow shortly after, a painful deluge of familiar colors, and he’s helpless to do anything but dig his fingers deep into the rich soil and try not to let the horrific impossibility of the situation drive him crazy. Tears flow freely, staining his cheeks before they fall to the ground below, greedily absorbed by the cursed earth of this place.

“Oh, dear,” a voice says, too close for him not to have noticed their presence. He tries to jerk back, but he can’t pull his fingers from the dirt. It hurts when he tries. A high pitched whine escapes his throat, but he’s too terrified to be embarrassed by that. The voice shushes him, soothes him, and warm fingers wrap tight around the back of his neck. They come to rest just above where the lip of his shell should be. He sobs at the way his back squirms as heat shoots down his spine and something begins to grow. The furred fingers drag like velvet against his scales as they squeeze, the sharp prick of claws threatening to break skin, and then release him just as suddenly. 

“So much sorrow and pain. And, oh, so many regrets,” the thing says as she circles him, humming a tune that makes his head pound in rhythm with his racing heart. His hands have sunk beneath the black soil, and it has begun licking greedily at his wrists as well. He can feel tendrils of something wet and cold winding themselves around his fingers, and he wants to scream again, but the bursts of bile-soaked colors decorating the ground keep him from opening his mouth. He can feel a petal still clinging to his bottom lip, and when the thing kneels before him, she reaches out to pluck it off, unbothered by the way he shrinks as far away from her touch as he can manage.

She slips it between her lips, and he catches a flash of a blackened tongue as it darts out to meet that single purple petal. Her teeth are sharp when she smiles at him. They hadn’t been sharp, when she’d first approached him in the Hidden City. Nothing about her had been.

In the dim lights of the underground world he and his brothers had only recently begun to explore, she had looked soft. He’d seen her approaching, and the first thought to flit through his head was, aw, bunny. A fluffy, rounded face. Big eyes, dark and deep as a still pond as they reflected the flickering neon of a sign in the shop window behind him. A pink nose had twitched when she’d smiled at him, sweet and kind, and asked him for his name. 

(What had he told her?)

Now, she would be unrecognizable, if not for the same strawberry patterned dress that drapes over her stretched out frame. He’d think to compare her to a hare now, but the hares he’d seen when watching Animal Planet with mikey had never looked like they would take delight in tearing his nails off one by one or plucking out his eyeballs. They had never made his vision swim or his body shake when he’d looked at them. Maybe she’s become more of a wolf.

The soil has reached his elbows. Those cool, slimy tendrils have circled his wrists like shackles. They’re squeezing tighter and tighter, and he feels his fingers throb and tingle as circulation is cut off. 

His mind flashes briefly to raph and how he used to tell them not to wear rubber bands on their wrists, convinced that their hands would fall right off if they got squeezed too tight. He wonders if the things that live beneath the dirt will steal what they’ve claimed, just like she’s stollen his shell. Another sound wants to bubble up his throat at the thought, and he lets it, because what use is a swordsman without his hands?

The hysterical giggles escape as big, iridescent bubbles. They glitter pink and blue and leave a bitter taste on his tongue. They only float a few feet into the air before they fall back to the ground, their attempt to flee the horror of this situation not getting too far at all. Soft green grass rises up from the dirt to catch them, but they do not pop. They rest, suspended on those tiny blades, for far longer than any bubble he’s ever blown before. He watches, transfixed, as his laughter is eventually swallowed by green. It begins to spread.

A hand cradles his chin, and his gaze jerks back to the thing that brought him here. She is watching him intently, eyes darting to take in every tiny change in his expression. She looks curious, in the same way that donnie does when he’s thinking about all the ways he can take something apart, and what he can do with those pieces to create something better. 

Her hand is soft where it touches him. She is gentle as she wipes a cloth across his mouth. It feels like water, soothing and cool, and he finds himself leaning into this tiny offer of comfort among the stomach churning violation of what is being done to him. His eyes flutter, and he distantly registers that the face she wears seems to swim before his eyes with each rapid blink, shifting back and forth between bunny and wolf and something other. She looks like she wants to devour him whole, no matter which face she wears.

From this close, he can see the way her eyes sparkle and dance when she smiles. He can’t help but think that maybe being swallowed whole wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, after all. 

The writhing shackles around his wrists tighten. 

She laughs, breathy and soft, and the sound is layered and beautiful like wind chimes. It conjures a hurricane inside his mind. Her cool breath gusts over his face. It smells like churned dirt and funeral flowers and pustulous rot. He doesn’t know if he wants to gag or breathe deeper. 

“Little blossom,” she croons, cupping both his cheeks, dragging their faces close. He doesn’t resist. She giggles, and she drags those soft hands and those sharp claws down his neck and over his shoulders, fingertips bumping against the disgustinghorriblewrongparasitetumor gathering of delicate buds that have sprouted up all across his back. She pinches one between the pads of her fingers, and he wants to screamcrybeghertostoppushherawaycutherdownandtearthemalloutbytheroots be good for her.

“Little blossom,” she says again, and those dark eyes catch his gaze and hold it as a heavy feeling settles against his skin, across his shoulders, around his neck, and he can’t look away no matter how desperately he tries. But he doesn’t want to try. Her smile stretches wider, wider, and for one brief flicker of a second he can see blood on her teeth as she asks, “Do you believe now?”

.

(Side note just for fun. The flowers that appear in this but aren’t actually described or named are:

Orange marigold, for grief and despair

Purple hyacinth, for sorrow and asking for forgiveness

Red cyclamen, for goodbye and resignation

Yellow zinnia, for missing a friend and remembrance

Bluebells, for gratitude and everlasting love 

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[tamagotchikgs]

realizing that for the first time ever being w my bf has given me the chance to actually just , kinda be myself without it feeling So wrong. like i am a nervous lil freak n me not being anything else is somehow ok. and not just used as a joke or like yeah thats the freak dont talk to them dont worry about them like my friends irl always did w me. even my therapist likes to ignore core parts of me, whenever i try to bring it up she always shuts me down with the "im sorry u feel that way" and changes the subject. and like i still want to be better n i still have support for changing n growing but it's like for the first time i can actually plant myself down in the ground instead of stretch myself thin trying to fit into everything im not. so maybe i do have a chance. maybe this is where i was always going wrong maybe this is what i could never reach

[ghostzzy]

wrote an extra few minutes just now… that means.. i wrote twice in one day…

[lizardinkart]

With the heavy caveat that I know people put their heart and soul into this show, having watched 6 seasons of this shit now, The Dragon Prince is just this to me

I root for this show as if it was my child’s little league team playing against the Dodgers. Like, they have the spirit, certainly. Can they actually hit a fastball going over 100mph? I think not.

[forcebookish]

i need a new strategy for like, cleaning my room and doing yoga and reading and leaving the house. the adhd has reached mythic levels of bad. i have the thought, "i should do X," and then i won't move. i make a to-do list and i won't do anything on it. i queue up a yoga practice and i won't do it. i stare at my room and get stressed out about how cluttered it is. i write 3000 words of notes for a fic i don't even know if i'm going to write. i think and i think and i think about my OCs and they won't let me write them. i spend hours looking at stuff i can't buy. i take like an hour to write this.

[tomfrogisblue]

I have finally finished O Segredo Na Floresta.

I have cried more than I thought possible.

And I fear I shall never be the same.

[apathyfairy]

i have 2 interviews on monday so im gonna try to just eat so much tomorrow that i literally die

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

leaving for college tomorrow... it doesn't feel real at all :')

[windupaidoneus]

sorry if i am weirder than usual right now GRINS EVILLY but not too evilly. i dont know whats up with me today but its like a whole thing it might be the four hours of sleep if im honest

[boygirlctommy]

ive decided that andoras almost always has crazy makeup and wigs on simply bcus its fun for him. and everin doesnt see him without any of it on until after the birthday party debacle and loses it slightly bcus she thought that was his real hair the whole time wdym youre BALD (hes not bald his hair is just short)

[badcountryofficial]

honestly genuinely sometimes you need to get ur heart broken. like. it's healthy, it's good. it's learning and growth. some ppl need to get theirs broken a bit more. myself included

[birdy-bird27]

Uh oh it’s bed time I’m starting to get my existential crises and worry about the fragility of life

[agayconcept]

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