#sobs into my hands I'm

[glossolali]

I'M VERY EMOTIONAAAAAL

"Essek is doing pretty good, enjoying the quieter life. He's not actively being hunted by the Dynasty but he's under heavy investigation. But he's been laying low for a few years with Caleb, helping him with teaching, doing his own research projects, working with the Cobalt Soul"

DOMESTIC SHADOWGAST REAAAAAL

full time marriedddd oh gosh 🥹🥹

[xitsensunmoon]

Whats the rays doin

[burningclocks]

The way Penelope asks Odysseus about the olive tree to confirm to herself AND to him that he is still her husband AUGH I'M SOBBING

[abandonedquishe]

Phoenix: "Why did I become a lawyer? Because someone has to take care of the people who have no one."

Phoenix: "You've changed, Edgeworth."

Edgeworth: "Don't expect any beneficial treatment from me."

[dendroaspis-viridis]

I'm begging you, BioWare... Learn from the mistakes of Baldur's Gates past...

[ruuari]

my half of an art trade I did with @donitkitt as a gift for his partners @spacey-hazey and @kin-machine !!! vanven with bubble tea ❤︎

see his GORGEOUS part of the art trade here

[queerofthedagger]

yes i made the same kind of post about finrod. yes i will make the same kind of post about maedhros at some point, probably. i said what i said

[embroid-away]

i hit a nasty mental block that held me back for a couple months on this project so i can't boast a ton of progress, but Bucky's hair and face are done!

[thursdaymoonrise11]

Phoebe Honeyball's muggle childhood ✨

✨✨✨

If you will indulge me, this is the life of Phoebe (hogwarts legacy MC) before she was discovered as a witch:

Phoebe grew up in village near Bakewell, Derbyshire

Her father works at the post office, and her mother works in the local cotton mill. They are a close knit family and Bee is both a mummy AND daddy's girl

Her family are not well off, and Phoebe is expected to leave school at 15 to help provide, even though her parents wish she could stay in education

Sensitive only child energy

Missing baby teeth ALWAYS

Plays football with her best friend on the dales, even though only boys are allowed to play sports

(football was stolen from an annoying boy at school, but she will cry if her crime is ever discovered)

Often gets in trouble / is caned (it is the 1880s folks) for being too curious for her own good

Can manipulate fire?? When she's emotional?? How can that be??

Once her parents go to bed, she ignites a candle and reads a book she's borrowed from someone in the village (it might be fiction or something mundane like the train station manual, it doesn't matter)

Tall girl her WHOLE life

Her chalk board goes with her EVERYWHERE

Her clothes are always fraying because she's always rushing and pays no mind to how wild her hair gets

Everyone in the village says she's 'away with the fairies'

(references used)

[imminent-danger-came]

Alright, the traffic light trio dynamic, in my head

[covenofthearticulate]

i had a thought: imagine louis falls asleep first because he’s the weakest and the baby and armand reads his thoughts as he dreams and then yaps to lestat right over louis’ head 😭

MWAH MWAH MWAH kissing u on the cheeks as we speak!!!! this is delicious i'm sobbing!!! since we're both going through it I wrote a lil something as a treat bc we deserve it <3

"He's dreaming of you," Armand mumbles into the nest of unkempt black hair.

From the pillow, on the other side of their sleeping lover, Lestat looks up from his phone. Like a pantomime, the expression shifts from surprised to curious to doubtful, before landing on the final fixed look of pure spite that crinkles his brow and stiffens his lip.

"He is not," Lestat frowns. "Liar."

He is always this way when he's afraid. Like a cornered wolf, snapping at any hand that might offer kindness.

And perhaps he is right to be afraid, Armand thinks, as he rests one hand over Louis' chest, feels the rise and fall of it as the mortal sleep pulls him under like the gentle lull of the ocean waves. Perhaps it is a gift, the severance between maker and fledgling. Perhaps the ugly things in Louis' head are better left unsaid.

That won't stop Armand, though.

"He's dreaming of you at the chess board with your father."

If there is any color left behind from the hunt, it immediately drains from Lestat's face. There's a sharp pain in his eyes for just a moment, one singular earth-shattering moment, before he glazes right over, and turns his attention back to his phone.

"...oh."

"You're yelling at him."

Armand doesn't know why he's digging further. He likes to dig, likes to press on Lestat's old wounds because sometimes it is the only way to see the real creature hiding behind the facade, because it makes him feel less alone, knowing there is someone else in this wide world who is every bit as broken and wretched as he is.

"Enough."

"Oh, but he loves you, even now," Armand continues to murmur, soft and low, against the crown of Louis' head. "He loves the curl of your hair, and the shape of your calves. Even the flash of your fangs as you tell your father to go to hell. He feels sorry for you."

"I said ENOUGH, Armand."

When he looks up, finally, there is a rage in Lestat's eyes. It's an old flame of anger, and yet it makes Lestat look so devastatingly young.

"Why are you telling me this?" Lestat breathes.

"Because you are the center of his universe," Armand snaps, and undercurrent is clear: ungrateful, ungrateful, ungrateful.

"I don't want to be." Something quivers in the back of Lestat's throat as he speaks. "I never wanted to hurt him, I never wanted—"

"And yet he dreams of you still."

Silence, for a moment.

And the longer Armand's words hang in the air, the more Lestat begins to recognize the jealousy seeping into each syllable.

"I want him to dream about us," Lestat finally sighs.

All Armand does is nod, close his eyes and inhale a breath as if he might pick up some lingering scent from the long dead flesh cuddled between them. And as he begins to gently exhale, Louis makes a small noise, a soft groan, and shifts ever so slightly so that his toes bump against Lestat's leg.

Lestat hates that he cannot know the cause of that noise, and for a moment he considers swallowing his pride simply to ask Armand to play conduit, to slide the blade between his ribs just once more—

But before he can speak, he feels the gentle press of Armand inside of his head, like a warm summer breeze, and once he opens the door, allows the battlements to crumble down, he can hear it like a relentless pulse:

Dream of us, dearest. Dream of us. No more sorrow. We are here, now. Dream of us.

And the world seems so warm and so small, suddenly, as Lestat allows himself to sink down into it, to be guided by Armand through the dreamscape in his lover's head. The three of them, tucked away in a venerable library deep in the heart of New York. The three of them, in the box at the opera. In the snow-covered trails of Auvergne, the moonlit streets of Paris, the ocean-kissed air of California...yes, the three of them, in all their many iterations, always finding their way home to one another over and over again.

A yawn creeps it's way up into Lestat as he shifts under the covers. He wraps his arm around Louis, rests his hand on Armand's shoulder.

And when he closes his eyes, he dreams of the three of them, too.

[l1li4n]

they need to be put in time out

[thechibilitwick]

shiddle me this. would shidou consider microwaving frozen food as cooking

(other ver. + closeups + other stuff below cut)

close ups

w/o filter

random stuff... why is he so ugly.... i made the crocs neon piss green only for the majority of it to be covered. world is cruel

[m4rs-ex3]

tdp s6 really said this one's for all the daughters out there. stay safe girlies

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

.,,.,.oh, i fucked up, i thought this pattern needed 100 yds of worsted, but it needs 200 yds, i'm doomed,

[percephilous]

What's this remake after uh. It's too late to count I made the other one in March figure it out

The Melia :) the mels the mewia the (I'm shot)

Old one down here