#so the 2nd part will be the last!

[axoqiii]

whats their problem man

[wasyago]

not drawing for others. not drawing for myself either. playing video games. okay? yay

[mintjeru]

i may be less normal about yudrain than i previously thought reference for the text on hope under the cut

open for better quality | no reposts

[karizipan]

orv dump 5(?)

[amaranthdahlia]

[all for one/one for all] wolf in sheep's clothing - rlyy short animatic lol

[edains]

Mass Effect Legendary Edition / Francesca, Hozier: Ashley Williams & Kaidan Alenko for @deannastrois (insp)

Ashley Consistency Project

Ashley's Guardian Armory

Alliance Uniform Consistency

Ashley's Armor

Ashley's Hair

Ashley's LE3 Armors

Ashley's armor texture

Kaidan Alenko Overhaul

Kaidan Alenko's Andromeda Armory

Kaidan's LE3 Armors

Play as Padme Amidala

[art-o-gant]

PARKER YANG APPRECIATION POST ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[violinist-rachel]

Grey Skies

[Prev]

A door creaks.

Rachel turns on the light to dimly illuminate a dusty room filled with unused furniture and trinkets. All the holiday decorations, the unneeded dresser, the boxes full of miscellaneous items that were only used once; they all reside here until a day comes when it's eventually remembered and brought back out momentarily.

She walked over to the end of the room, where a black case leaned against the wall, and pensively takes it with her as she leaves the room.

-----------------------------------------------------

Rachel opens the case.

It's the violin. The violin that she received on her birthday in celebration of all of her achievements as a musician.

No one is in the house at this time.

The skies are layered thick with grey clouds, and the room echos with only the sounds of Rachel's footsteps tapping on the hard floor. Rachel breathes shakily as she sets up the sheet music on a stand, steeling herself to play.

She puts the bow up to the violin and begins playing.

It was just simple warm ups. Playing an instrument often require intricate and precise movements; similar to how athletes must warm up to prime their body before they start, playing music is just the same.

Feeling a little more confident, she decided to play an old piece she knew by memory. It wasn't a difficult piece, and it was one she mastered a long time ago. Whenever people asked her to play something upon learning she was a violinist, this would often be her go-to to showcase.

The clouds outside flashes briefly with lightning, but no audible thunder accompanies it.

As she played the final note, Rachel took a moment to pause. She turned her attention to her music stand, which held the sheets for the piece she was meant to play at the concert years ago. The last concert she was meant to be a part of before her hiatus. She assumes her position, determined to get through this piece, and starts playing.

She's off-tempo. She's playing too quickly and she knows it. When she comes across a long pause in the piece, she stops. Taking a deep breath, she decides to try it again from the start.

She starts playing again, slower this time. Although it felt more accurate, she finds herself becoming irritated. Her fingers felt stiff and heavy, as though they were rebelling against her. Parts that used to be fun to play and flowed easily now sounded almost stilted and forced. Halfway though the piece, she trails off and stops, unsatisfied.

She used to be able to do this. She used to play better than this. This isn't even a difficult piece. She used to like playing this.

She flipped back to the first page of the piece and started over.

She played the wrong note, so she'd start over. Her timing was off, so she'd start over. She didn't transition smoothly, so she'd start over. And over. And over. And over.

She never finished the entire piece each time. Halfway through, something would always go wrong. Something would just never be good enough. And each time it happened, her brow would furrow deeper, her frustration boiling, becoming more and more visible, until-

*CRASH!*

The music sheets are scattered everywhere. Her stand lays on the ground, toppled over. And Rachel stood, bitter and defeated.

This wasn't the first time Rachel has tried to play again, and it wasn't going to be the last, but it's always ended the same way. Every time, it's always ended in disappointment.

A streak of lightning flashed across the window and the sky rumbled threateningly, startling Rachel. Sensing a thunderstorm approaching, she scrambled frantically to re-collect all the sheets and put everything away.

She finds herself in the dusty room once more.

The light flickers as the storm threatens a power outage within the house. Feeling uneasy, she walks quickly over to the wall and places the violin case back where she originally found it. She looks back at it one last time as she exits the room and closes the door briskly as she hears another crackle outside.

Maybe one day, she'll be able to find joy in playing it again. But today was not that day.

[morrigan-sims]

Knight-Commander Theodore Marshall

Carrion's former mentor and father figure, and the commander of the Knights of the Silver Order. Just a Dad trying his best. Regrets nothing more than leaving the boy he knew as Reverence for dead. Unfortunately for him, Reverence Carrion is alive, and wants him dead...

[closeup of his face and official art reference under the cut]

[crispyjenkins]

(AC wip) The Savage Price of Piety

it's desmond's deathday and i wrote like. 9,000 more words to this wip (first two parts here) last week and i want to brag about it, so happy deathday you wet bastard (mostly gen but with a surprise rarepair, time travel/reincarnation, found family, william miles’ a+ parenting, accidental subterfuge, desmond goes by miles mostly, inspired by study of flight by @esamastation but with a twist!, only somewhat historically accurate swears by which i mean probably not at all but leonardo had some Opinions alright) have some (three) chronological but scattered bits of scenes

  “Oh,” Claudia says as soon as she opens the door, seeing Ezio’s rather wretched expression, “you’ve figured it out, then.”

  “You could have told me,” he growls, following her into the entryway and closing the door behind himself. 

  Claudia scoffs, spinning on heel to lead the way further into the building for the kitchens. “I had one conversation with the boy, brother, I was hardly sure of it myself. Wait,” she halts and points a finger at him accusingly, “how did you figure it out?”

  Ezio, quite graciously he thinks, ignores the subtle insult to his intelligence. Sighing, he pushes back his hood before their mother sees him with it on indoors, and runs a hand over his beard. “I had Leonardo visit.”

  Claudia’s face slackens, before twisting into a rage that has Ezio stepping away warily.

  But she punches the wall instead of her brother, a shouted “Gods damn it!” echoing in the narrow space. Then she spins on her heel and hollers further into the residential part of the bordello, “Mother! We forgot about Leonardo!”

  Horrified by his sister and concerned for his mother’s current mental state, Ezio reaches out to put a hand on Claudia’s arm, but he doesn’t get the chance before Maria de' Auditore is shouting right back, “God damn it!”

  Grumbling, Claudia stomps down the hall and leaves a very confused Ezio hurrying to follow; she ignores all his pleas for explanation until she’s stomped into the kitchen, where their mother is pouring two very large glasses of wine, with very little water to cut down the potency. She passes one to Claudia silently, and then they both drink, though luckily they aren’t attempting to down it all at once.

  “I can’t believe we forgot the Maestro,” their mother mutters to herself as she comes over to kiss Ezio on both cheeks, before shoving the still mostly-full glass into his hands.

  “Forgot him for what?” Ezio wants to know, clutching the glass like a mother clutches a babe.

  “To test if Miles really is an Auditore.” It’s said so flippantly, like it doesn’t affect Claudia at all, but she also collapses into one of two chairs at the little tea table under the largest window. Their mother takes the other, massaging her forehead and looking like she’s grieving their family all over again.

  It occurs to Ezio, as he moves to stand next to the table, that she probably is.

--

“It’s all up to you now, Seventeen.”

  Desmond opens his eyes to the dark of the dormitory, faint moonlight cutting over the floor between his bed and Nino’s, and he can’t bring himself to move — even to roll off his arm that is very much still asleep. 

  Clay still haunts him.

  Five hundred fucking years, and his current twenty-four besides, and that fucker still won’t leave him alone. If Desmond were not so familiar with what an actual Bleed feels like, he’d almost think Clay is stuck in his brain the same way as his ancestors. Thank fuck he stopped Bleeding Ezio’s memories and feelings, while still retaining much of the training.

  Fuck, time travel is so weird.

  Or, reincarnation? He’s not sure of much, but he’s sure he was dead, he’s sure he burned, and he’s sure that though his 15th century mother had affectionately called him [redacted], his name is Desmond Miles.

  Or just Miles, he supposes. Sue him, he panicked when Adele first approached him, and the best aliases are ones you know you’ll respond to, right? If only he’d have had the forethought to divorce himself from his... future family’s surname.

  It sounds different enough with an Italian accent that it hasn’t caused any problems, yet. Like making him flinch. Or snapping that he hasn’t been a Miles since he was sixteen.

  Granted, he still has no idea what he would go by instead. Altaïr and Conner would feel weird, while Sef or Darim are just a bit on the nose, and does he look like an Edward? Malik, maybe. His grandmother here, now, is actually from the Levant, so his skin is certainly dark enough that people wouldn’t be surprised by the name.

Except that feels almost akin to naming himself Leonardo.

--

  So instead, Leonardo spends every spare moment with his best friend, sometimes to brainstorm, sometimes to simply be there for him. It’s during one of these visits, he and Ezio once again observing the youngest assassins in the training ring, that he hears Miles laugh for the first time, and it’s as if ice water has been poured directly into his veins.

  Oh fuck. Oh Saints, oh Holy Father, oh fuck.

  “Leonardo?” Ezio asks quietly, head tilted towards him in concern, but Leonardo ignores him to stumble for the bannister to lean over it and stare down at Miles learning a little jig from Tullio, laughing all the while.

  He had only heard it once, truth be told, and it had been Salaí that had caused it, but even three years later, Leonardo remembers the laugh of Rodrigo Borgia’s sinister little shadow.

  Below, Miles doesn’t stop smiling, but his golden brown gaze yanks up towards Leonardo as if knowing his thoughts are about him. His eyes narrow, then widen slightly in realisation, and then he winces and looks away, which is all the confirmation Leonardo needs.

  Turning around, Leonardo grabs a confused Ezio by the arm and drags him from the training room, ignoring his protests until they find the nearest empty room.

  “Leonardo, what—?”

  “Romulus.”

-

[thewandererh]

🤯two cccclinic posts in one day?? not as unlikely as you might think…

more of a doodley post :]. colored drawings, playing with pens, and sketches!!

please do not tag this as a ship

referenced songs:

[orcelito]

Considering the. Ahem. Ways this year has gone, I've not been thinking about it all that much, but. I did start this year with the motto of Year Of Unfucking My Life. With a few goals involved in that.

I got an official adhd diagnosis, as well as a diagnosis for PCOS. Other diagnoses in progress. Gotten adhd meds and birth control to regulate periods. I've gone back to school and I'm keeping up with it better than ever before. I've even been working on practicing driving, something I've been largely neglecting since I first got my driving permit, um... 11 years ago...

I just need to actually Get my license. And I need to get it before the end of the year. If I can accomplish that, then I'll say the Year Of Unfucking My Life was successful.

[ladytauria]

me: i’m almost done with this fic! so im gonna finish it tonight :)

me, 500 words later: oooo new idea

[cerealandchoccymilk]

zakkie...................(wip)

[ronanlynchbf]

and then an overwhelming sense of dread apear.

[mildfevermystery]

Chika SSR #1197 and SR #2242 [Transparent, Edited/Extended] ※ Credit is appreciated but not required.