#tagging can eat my ass

[rostomanologist]

an assassin. a shame for his family. a blackmailer. a scout and a sniper. a dad who went for the milk and didnt come back. a bnuuy lover

[al-luviec]

something simple to try to get out of art block (it didn't work)

[fiendishartist2]

the archives is full of gay ppl; therefor halloween is celebrated

[pup-pee]

he is the dirt under my fingernails

[b4kuch1n]

hahaha wheee haha

[hotbellepepaz]

sum doodlies of @re-colligere ‘s spy au!!!!!1!1!1 this au is one of my absolute FAVORITES rn and i am hungry for more… blows everything up

also the relationships between the agents and the villains are GOLD. i want more aghrheiidjdidudjgdhheh. forever i will Love miss april

[transpecter]

very new to bg3 and i have poor vision so i couldnt see which clothes i was wearing when i sold all of them. Go to take a long rest. giant 6ft 4 extremely hot tiefling standing there wearing nothing but underwear and shoes. astarion immediately starts hitting on me. goty deserved

[batwynn]

Ok. Five days without antihistamines before my immunology appointment (FINALLY). I can do it. I won’t even look at a potato. 😤

[llondonfog]

For a painful soulamte au, what if the Dawn Knight was Lilias soulmate? And to make it more painful what if Dawn knew that Lilia was his soulmate somehow and still went to war with the fae because he couldn't stand to go against the family who raised him

Not a soul knew, except for Leia.

Leia knew because she knew everything about him— the leash of loyalty around his neck, the weight of despair upon his shoulders, the mark of his soulmate tattooed like a harbinger on the inside of his wrist.

Leia knew, and loved him for it all the same.

You are a knight, she would remind him on those moonless nights, delicate features as solemn as a saint as she laid her hands against the haunted hollows of his face, as merciful and sweet as her namesake. You are the only one out of them all who has the right to call himself so. What greater sacrifice have you given to my father, to our family, than the cost of love?

He loved her, too.

Her effortless charm and wit were always happy to fill his awkward and stoic silences, and she never shamed him for his reserved nature. She was a princess, born and raised to be a queen, and it sat right inside his heart that she should realize such a vision. Her kindness to their people, her kindness to her traitor of a knight— too kind, to allow him even into her arms and bed when his nerves fail him and the shadows creep in.

It's what he feels, when he places his hand on the swell of her gown, the gentle life growing inside of her: their child, steeped in kindness.

A tragic beginning that can only lead to a tragic end.

Leia is the only kindness that he's ever known, and the irony is not lost on him that she is not his soulmate, nor is he her own. She does not speak of the mark blurred and faded on her skin, and she does not press him for explanation when he disrobes for her and only her, and the bat in flight unfurls its wings upon his wrist.

She does not need to, for they both know whose standard he bears, whose symbol lays a claim that would spell betrayal and doom for his fate.

He lies there within the shelter of her embrace, her slim fingers weaving through his golden hair, and he wonders what manner of mark lies on the fae general's wrist. He wonders if it is of a gleaming sword raised to strike, or a loathsome owl, talons curled, both prepared to rid the fae of his heart and gift it to the enemy's feet. It must not be obvious, because the fae has never reacted to his presence beyond the expected vitriol to their immoral crusade. And each time that they meet, the gratitude of a coward lances through his veins for the sake of the helmet obscuring his expression— it is your eyes that give you away, Leia had murmured to him, her own dark and forgiving as they glitter in the candlelight. Your truest emotions lie within them, crystal clear and as unclouded as the brightest dawn.

He does not deserve her unshakeable belief, for he feels like the muddiest of waters, choked with debris and tainted by waste.

He does not deserve her, and as he clutches at his wrist in the night, nails all but digging into the taut flesh as if to pull the bat from his skin—

He knows that he does not deserve the general either.

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

The Self-Portrait: A Cultural History • James Hall

[gothsuguru]

i made so much progress on “butchered tongue” i’m so happy AHHHHHHHHH :3 still a long way to go but i’m gonna pat myself on the back regardless <3

[covenofthearticulate]

I'll be honest, y'all. "Rolin Jones ruins your favorite playwright by making him into a vampire and throwing out a bunch of cheap jokes on his work" was not on my iwtv s2 bingo card but in retrospect if we're shitting on trailblazing artists with more talent in their decayed bones than Rolin has in his entire body, I guess Sam Beckett can keep Anne company.

[mandaliciously]

[thegreatyin]

completely normal roommates bonding over completely normal things like *flips through notes* murdering each other and having complicated opinions on giant alien bats

[slurpyboii]

This drawing is a lil old (drew it the day natlan trailer w/ her dropped) and I wasn't gonna post it cause I f'd up her anatomy but I still think her face and hair are really pretty so wtv