#soz this is awful

[charlatanlord]

closed starter: @novaxmor

As he ordered his scotch Gabriel's eyes scanned the room, seeking a quiet corner where he could relax and unwind after a day spent navigating the treacherous waters of high society, and the pub he stood in now seemed perfect for it. Spotting an unoccupied table near the hearth, he made his way there, acknowledging the nods and curious glances from the regular patrons as he passed by.

The warmth from the crackling fire in the hearth enveloped him as he settled into the wooden chair, embracing him like an old friend. He loosened the top button of his tailored waistcoat, feeling the tension from the day slowly melt away, eyes searching the lively place with a quiet interest.

[immortaladonis]

Axel Arigato AW23 Collection

[blue-eyed---dreamer]

Bastille at The Atlantis in Washington DC!

Eleventh year as a fan, eleventh Bas gig, and first time at barricade!

[l48yr1nth]

im going to make an emo anime wolf oc hes gonna be soooo edgy and powerful nobody can stop me

[handcat]

instagram should be set aflame

[madwickedawesome]

emetophobia warning under the cut (me complaining about my lovely acid reflux issue)

genuinely going fucking crazy with gerd i was so excited to go to school today and then my body decided to puke up like 2 cups of the thickest bile ive ever seen it was actually so fucking gross like what the hell😭

[vullcanica]

@und3rdark cont. from x

 Curiosity had always been her guilty vice. A thing overindulged to the point of prying intrusion, oft to the great detriment or benefit of others. It all depended, in truth, whether she sought knowledge for its sake alone, or pursued other ends through it. So she inquires in measure, undecided on reason - only seeking to know more about the peculiar dark-dwelling elf who'd come to her aid earlier. A venture more out of gratitude than want for upper hand.

 It seems she's missed a fork in the road - that trecherous footpath called discretion - somewhere along her journey. With how swiftly Asyrn passes off a century spent near Menzoberranzan almost like an afterthought, it makes her think she should've started lighter. She thought she had.

 "In the hands of a professional, then. And one so kind to lend me passage. -- A rare treasure in these parts."

 Travellers and heroes lingered in ill places, she knew. In her limited experience - light-loving creature as she was - none quite so ill as this corner of the earth. It would be a strong choice, if volitious. And lucky for her, no matter if it had been.

 The path through wet rock and puddles is a harrowing one, tedious to the best of legs without experience of terrain. Her step is surer now, having watched Asyrn move quick and practiced through dips and elevations like he's learned them blind, but still she, with her slower legs, lags far behind and catches up slow and steady, neither tired nor very fussed about it. -- Frustrations have seldom been known to change an outcome. She passes the flat of her palms down her abysmally rumpled front while she watched Asyrn peer down the tunnel. Whatever he sees there seems to inform the question.

 "Not hungry enough to stop quite yet." She eyes the fork and glances at her guide with a questioning raise of the brow. "I suppose it should depend on what lies ahead."

[freezethebeez]

Raine and Beau lore oh boy

(spoiler: it's angst)

below the break you will find a short story about Beau's last moments with Raine, told shortly after the birth of Ranboo.

this was a project i submitted for my writer's craft class, which did, in fact, have a word limit, so it's not as long as i'd have initially written it, but alas, it is plenty angsty nonetheless. my metacognition on the piece is also available if anyone wants it :]

"You must try to drink more, my love," Beau pleads, voice doused in water, arm dripping with blood. She presses her wrist against Raine's lips, Raine smearing the blood in denial. Her head falls back against the feather-stuffed pillow, using what little strength she has to wipe her mouth clean, keeping one arm secured around Ranboo's small, frail body, swathed in soft cotton, just like herself.

"I believe," Raine murmurs, struggling to take in enough of a breath to push the words out, "I am ready. You've done all you can."

Beau's eyes squeeze shut. She lowers her head— her arms, hands, one pressing into the wound to prevent her from falling into the same deathbed Raine's laying in. She bows forward, forehead landing upon Raine's waist. Raine finds the crown of her head with trembling fingertips. Dust follows the movement, flying from her skin. It was a dangerous truth that Beau was not yet ready to accept— the presence of dust as she washed herself before bed— some nights pondering if she should preserve it in a jar— but preservations required acceptance, so they sought out the drain instead.

"There must be more I can do," Beau speaks. "There is sure to be a doctor out there somewhere— someone who knows how to help you."

"Darling," Raine rasps, "you have done all that you can. There's no need to argue this anymore."

Beau peers up at Raine through the thin, white veil of her hair. Raine looks down at her solemnly, her eyes wet as well. Blood stains the corners of her mouth, visible beneath her pale, grey skin (it wasn't always that way— pale and grey— years ago, Beau would kiss dark, slate skin, back when there was still life in death). Death comes to life in front of her— Ranboo kicks her little legs out, one of the few, infrequent movements she's gotten a hold of over the recent months. Beau's attention is drawn by the sporadic twitches, and the small, swaddled figure resting on Raine's chest is blurred further in her misty vision.

"What about her?" Beau asks, reaching a hand forward to hold Ranboo in her blanket. Beau looks back up at Raine, whose eyes are fixed on Ranboo as well, smiling fondly at their daughter.

Raine inhales deeply, wheezing slightly, speaking, "I trust that you will raise her to be strong like you." Beau stifles a sob. "And," Raine adds, "when she's old enough to hear, you can tell her all about me."

Beau shakes her head. She refuses to accept this reality— one in which she's raising a child— their child— all on her own, having to tell her stories of her mother, knowing that she will have never heard her voice, seen her face, or remembered her touch.

"Make sure..." Raine takes in another wheezing breath, "... that she knows that I love her more than anything else... and that I do not regret a single thing."

Beau nods this time. She could never deny her wife's requests, least of all her dying ones. Beau has felt Raine's breath against her body— strong and self-assured like she is— and to hear her struggle to inhale— cough as she exhales— it creates a deep ache in Beau's chest— one that calls her towards acceptance.

She reaches for Raine's hand, cringing at the feeling of dust against her skin— the way cracks run along Raine's fingers, her wedding ring sinking into the bone. Beau tries not to squeeze too hard, afraid that her hold will cause Raine's hand to crumble— or cause pieces of her to spill like sand in an hourglass that’s on the brink of running out. 

Beau remembers their wedding day well. She recalls the moments in the garden of her parent’s home, wandering through the fields of lilies and jasmine, Raine’s hand held tightly in her own, grip like a vice and laced with nervousness. The stars gleamed bright, and Raine had told her that the moon was shining just for them. The night had still been young— they were still so young, just barely a century old— and still yet to don their wedding gowns. 

They did not know what their future would hold, but they knew they had one.

Oh, how Beau wishes she could say the same now— how she wishes she could hold Raine’s hand a little tighter to quell her fears, and how she wishes this child, kicking and chirping and barely one month old— still blind to this world— had not taken Raine’s life, and how Beau wishes Raine had not given it so easily. 

Vampires do not die. You cannot kill something that is already dead. However, you can steal its consciousness— and that is precisely what Death does as it swoops in through the open window, carrying Raine’s soul from her body with the gentle breath of the breeze. 

Dust spills onto Beau’s gown. Ranboo gives a sudden kick, a chirp, louder and sharper than before. Beau squeezes the dust that remains in her hand, pulls what’s left of her love together, compresses the centuries they’ve shared into her palm.

And, with the soft breath of an autumn’s breeze and a kiss of death upon her daughter’s brow, lets it blow away in the wind. 

[andshewasamovie]

inspired by the lovely @be3lynn, here are some things my friends said this past school year that made it ok:

A: "The URL isn't incorrect! I typed mantis shrimp!"

A: "BOSTON CREME PIE IS A FUCKING CAKE."

B: "Aw they sound so cute! Tories!"

B: "You're a southern white boy, of course you are! Tell me I'm wrong."

C: "I can’t."

C: "I'm a famous bad boy!"

C: "Let me move your knees."

C: "Fastest fuck in the west!"

Me: "I'm not sure that's something to be proud of, frankly."

D: "It's like throwing a Gummi worm into a ring of children."

D: "Liberals want to change Nosferatu to They/Them-feratu."

E: "I'm five foot three, you son of a bitch."

E: "You're helping heal them of horny!"

F: "Very wet cocktail shaker."

G: "Stop prophisizing and play UNO!!!"

and finally, from yours truly:

"I will never understand attraction to men."

"You'd be a really prolific murderer."

[liauditore]

Wait who tf was holding the leash-

🫵

[speardovich]

i know more about susie wonder than you do genius /ref

[dizzy-pixels]

I don't know if it's unpopular opinion or anything but I don't want Gon to get his nen back

[voxmilia]

yall ever just bust out a 800 word flash fic out of spite

[nervousmonolith]

[marcvscicero]

i kinda wish the tumblr notifs thingy was more user friendly idk like i try to look at it to see if anyone wrote anything on or replied to one of my posts or whatever but it's just full of like . a thousand likes on a post about a little bear statue . . . i wish it was Easier . . . twitter sucks in every other single way but the notifs r the only good thing there i think

[unholywood]

after exhausted from a long day’s travel, gus rests his head on six’s shoulder.

you don't think about it much. but the quiet sets in between you both, your nose is running, eyes are watering & you're soaked with sweat from little exertion at all.

his head leans to your shoulder. you lean, in turn, side of your head propped against his as you process each inhale. your arm hurts. ᵯɏ ⱥɍᵯ ħᵾɍⱦꞩ. it could be described in more ways, nerve-striking agony from your shoulder to the rot of your arm. your own arrogance can't take moments like this away from you, yet. the still of someone else beside you. the sunsets glow seeks to warm your cold, shuddering bones— med-x can wait. can it??? can't it? one hand wipes the drip from their nose.

“ s'on your mind? ” subside me. talk [..] say anything. help me out of mine. this is your comfort. he subverts your impatience to deaden the nerves. you'll wait a while. they reach out, one hand clasping against the inside of his forearm in a grasp of reality & self-soothing gain.