#this one has a little kick to it

[navysvettel]

redbull second drivers

always an angel never a god

[saggitary]

Guess who just posted chapter 16 of TTTBU? ME.

This goes out to all my Domino Twin besties and all those that love the ARC Trooper episode of The Clone Wars

Tags! @snarkyfina @bees-flowers @jarchvast-likearchvistbutthevast

Let me know if you’d like to join the TTTBU taglist!

[egophiliac]

I don’t think we’ve ever seen you draw knight of dawn before 🤔 what are your thoughts about him? Or take?

I've drawn him a couple of times, just really little/in the background. but I should draw him more, I love this guy a lot! I have many, many thoughts about him and the way he parallels Silver...and also I think it is extremely funny that his ghost is stuck in a ring. especially considering where that ring has been for the last 16-ish years.

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE-AU (Page 57-60)

* That was a long entry...

[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]

[phoenixcatch7]

Okay but it's super interesting how

Din = Power = Ganondorf

Naryu = Wisdom = Zelda

Farore = Courage = Link.

Because Din, in the hylian creation myth, created the physical world. Naryu then created the laws - gravity, time, etc. And Farore finally created life - plants and people.

Din created the body, naryu the mind, Farore the soul.

And the triforce and its wielders so perfectly reflect that.

Ganon is physical power, he is big and intimidating and he breaks things. He is cunning and determined, but that's not what he focuses on. He is might makes right.

Zelda is wisdom and cleverness. She is stall tactics and information and team work. She is a powerful mage with a spine of steel, but that's not how she'll win. She is the pen being mightier than the sword.

Link is courage and persistence. He is the wild card sneaking behind enemy ranks, always moving, plunging into terrifying situations head first. He's a phenomenal fighter with a keen wit, but that's not what will get him through his challenges. He is bravery not being the absence of fear but the triumph over it.

They sit in perfect parallels to each other.

And ganon is reborn through his body - his resurrection is immortality. No matter how low he is cast, as long as he has a body he can claw his way back. He can cling to his power, build it ever higher.

Zelda is reborn through the magic of her bloodline. It's the accumulated knowledge handed down for generations, the unique power she must master, the skills she must develop to survive and get her kingdom out the other side intact. Even her name, the knowledge of herself, is handed down from all the way from the very first. Her ancestors knowledge of her future presence, her stability, is what gives her the edge.

Link is reborn in spirit. He is not bound by flesh or blood. Just like his wanderlust soul he can reappear in any time or place. His variation, his unpredictability, is exactly how he fights. It's what makes him so hard to pin down.

Ganons need to build strength means he can't chase after link. Links impulsiveness means zelda can outwit him. Zeldas stationary predictability means she's an easy target for ganon.

But the other direction?

Fire melts ice, ice redirects lightning, lightning burns fire.

And that's the very essence of the triforce.

[lovesickeros]

zhongli and neuvillette fighting over their reader 🤭🤭

scary dog privilege wherever you go, draconic courting gestures that would scare any regular person, they send each other deadly glares the moment you turn away,

stealing your clothes to just get a whiff of your scent, marking their territory all over your house - making it a battlefield basically, neuvillette (in my hc) is cooler and zhongli is warm so the cuddles are always so comfy ☺️😍,

they give you anything you want - you don't even have to lift a finger, they make you travel between the nations a lot though 😒 sooo clingyyy, extra gentle in their dragon forms as to not squish you, don't even get me started on the size difference 😍😍

just a little thought 🤭☺️

- 🐈‍⬛

Neuvi being colder is so real and canon. I see him as being colder + a lot more lithe, kinda lanky with smaller but sharper canines versus Zhongli who's warmer and a bit shorter then Neuvi + bulkier with bigger but not as sharp canines.

They've also got very different habits – Zhongli is very prideful not just of himself but his nation. He'll personally give your a tour and purposely drag it out as long as he can. Complimenting Liyue is basically complimenting him, checkmate Neuvi. Especially if he convinces you to try on some local Liyue fashion. Harmless and just a nice gift to anyone else but Neuvi sees it for what it is (since your wearing something from Liyue, technically wearing something of his. He loves his technicalities when it comes to staking a claim over you). Adds salt to the wound by touching you in totally innocent ways like to adjust you towards something he wants to show you or accidently brushing against you when he takes the bags of spoils he's practically drowning you in but really he's just making sure his scent sticks. He's just a sweet, nice gentleman with absolutely no ulterior motives trust.

Neuvillette does love Fontaine, but his habits are more about himself then the nation. He'll take you around if you ask or if the idea strikes him, but you'll probably stay around the making city area or the opera house specifically. He enjoys more personal time with just you and him then anything else. He values the immaterial to the material. Zhongli spoils you with gifts, but Neuvi tries to offer quality time irregardless of physical gifts (though he still gives them just not to the extent of Zhongli). He'll take you to see different operas if that's to your fancy, or leverage a bit of his authority to maybe see a few films since those seem to be hitting off in Fontaine recently. Bet that creaky old archon doesn't have those huh. He feels awkward if you want to watch a trial, but he'll reluctantly agree because. well. it's you. just don't wave or anything he's trying to work and he just Really wants to see you smile at him like that again and it makes him lose his train of thought. gets custom clothes designed by Chiori to replace your clothes from Liyue because they smell of Zhongli and it makes him sulky + he likes to match.

G-d forbid these two are in the same room as you because it's a war of attrition at that point. Constant accidental brush of the hand against your shoulder or elbow but it's just them trying to get rid of the others scent. they are side eyeing each other behind your back while being all smiles whenever your looking. If it's hot and you lean into Neuvi more he's practically GLOWING. not even smug he's just absolutely smitten and happy to be of service. immediately takes off his gloves and presses his hands to your face asking if your okay and if you want to go back with him. if it's cold out and you seek out Zhongli more hes smug as hell beneath the calm veneer. Offers you his coat and stay as physically close to you as he can under the pretense of being worried you'll catch a cold if he doesn't warm you up.

don't even get me started on your house either because you probably have tons of gifts from both of them accumulated everywhere. if Neuvi sees you use a tea set from Zhongli suddenly he had a fantastic gift idea he thought you'd like. he even got some tea included with it so why don't you let him make you some? Zhongli sees you using a goblet Neuvi gave you (totally a coincidence it's similar to his) and suddenly you have 27 square cups in your cabinets that you have no idea where they came from. if the goblet is mysteriously missing oh well. who knows :]

[arthur-lesters-right-arm]

We are so lucky there are no visuals in Malevolent because if I laid my eyes on Arthur with his sleeves rolled up drenched head to toe in blood baring his teeth a demon of chaos manipulating his every decision all while he degrades the shit out of a confirmed killer, I'd drop to my god damn knees on the spot idk what to tell you

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

[First] Prev <–-> Next

Hair Revealed. Heir Rejected.

[royaltea000]

Pose practice! ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

[darkmagic-s]

to love is to consume

Summary: Astarion keeps staring at your neck.

   Astarion keeps staring at your neck.

Which is, really, not surprising. He likes to stare at you—especially you. At all of you that he can get the chance to lay his eyes on. Your eyes that shows so much of your intelligence when you look at things that are not him, oh, how he loves to look at you when you're not looking. It feels almost forbidden, like this is something he should not indulge himself in, should not have—deep down in his heart he knows that—like you're precious a treasure, a lovely secret. Your hands, how meticulously they do their job, how carefully they handle the world, your world, how they handle him. His skin feels like it burns when you touch him with those sacred hands of yours, giving him a foreign yet tempting warmth that he has never felt in centuries. The warmth that makes him wonder if this was meant for him, if he should indulge himself further in it.

Your skin—gods, he will never forget the first time he penetrated his teeth into your skin, the same skin that has gone through so much and what he found, what he tasted was heavenly. It just kept tasting better and better each time you granted him the opportunity of feeding on you. No amount of enemies could ever compare to your blood, not even if he was given a sea of blood—still nothing compared to yours.

And then there's you. You, just—you. Of course, you are more than your blood, so much more. You've showed him that, and even showed him that he's more than just his body. You've opened up your heart to him, and his heart answered it, reciprocated it. Hard. He doesn't really know what happened, but you've gotten so, so enticing since then. He hates to admit this, but he needs your blood, or perhaps, want, because the two of you did establish that he can feed on the bad guys you'd be coming across during your travels. You're already allowing him that and he can't believe himself that he's asking for more. How—

"You're unusually quiet," you comment from beside Astarion, a book in your hands yet your gaze on him. You must've caught him staring at your neck. He feels almost embarrassed, ashamed even. "Something's wrong."

How easy it is for him to be so vulnerable around you, too vulnerable that the dark and unpleasant emotions that are gnawing at his heart threaten to show, bit by bit.

"Why, missing my voice already?" Astarion asks smoothly, too smoothly. Practised.

"It's hard not to," you reply as smoothly, giving him a smile. You're now placing your book down and Astarion has to restrain himself from swallowing due to his nervousness. Here you are, willingly paying attention to him, making him the centre of your attention. "So, what is it?"

"Well, darling..." Astarion starts, a smirk forming on his lips, but he makes the mistake of looking into your eyes, the windows to your soul, and he can't help the fondness that grows immensely within him. One that stops him from lying to you, because he realises you're looking at him the same manner he would look at you. He's not quite sure how to handle that.

Of course, this is uncharacteristic of him—no matter how speechless he gets, he'd always have something to say, something to fill the dreadful silence. But you... you make it so hard. Yet so easy.

"Okay," you say, smile dropping slowly and a brow raised in suspicion. "We need to talk."

Though before Astarion can reply, you tilt your head slightly, and adding, "Wait, no. No one likes hearing that. Let's talk. Let's discuss. Let's have a... an emotionally present conversation between two loving people, yes?"

He can't help but to smile. Adorable. "Quite the jester."

"Says you," you reply without missing a beat, witty as always. "So, what's wrong?"

Astarion leans closer, a smile on his face, intending to take your mind off the topic. He doesn't want to share you away. Absolutely not. Not when everything is going so well.

"You're looking at my neck again."

The brief noise of surprise that erupts from Astarion's throat is rather embarrassing.

"What?" you ask, clueless, confused at his evident surprise. You lean closer, peering into his eyes. Adorable, he thinks once more. "You were. Again."

Again? How embarrassing. Caught behaving like a starved vampire. He wonders what you think, about his habit of staring at your neck. He likes to think he stares at other parts of you the most, not just the neck. Would you think that way? Would you be okay with him? He thinks you would. You're too kind to him, making him feel like his centuries worth of prayers have been answered, but there's no divine intervention here, just you and him. The only divine being he sees here is you. 

"Sorry, dear," Astarion sighs, leaning back. You're too blunt at times, straightforward. Saves him from saying out the difficult things, despite how much he loves talking, but it certainly doesn't save him from the humiliation he's feeling right now.

"Why?" you ask softly, and he notices it, the soft tone. It makes him soft, all sad inside. You then add in a slightly playful tone, "You can stare. Can even bite too, if you want."

"You never offered."

Astarion can just feel that it's the wrong thing to say, with how you freeze beside him, and how you don't respond for a few seconds.

"I'm sorry," you apologises sincerely, leaning closer.

"No, no, darling, it's not your fault," Astarion reassures, gazing into your eyes. Again, too kind to him. "I have other things on the menu to occupy myself with."

Fuck. Now that's the wrong thing to say. He doesn't want you to think he sees you as food. Or replaceable. Gods, no.

"You can always ask for my blood, though. You can put it on top of the list in the menu, too."

Astarion tilts his head down, feeling slightly uneasy at your words, despite how that is what he wants to hear. Of course you'd say that. And unfortunately, he can't think of anything to stop this conversation immediately. He's caught off guard when your hand comes into view to his face and soon lifts his face up, making him face you. He melts almost instantly when you kiss him, his eyes closing automatically, with familiarity, as he indulges himself in this warm kiss from you.

It's a brief one, but every kiss, every peck, reminds him that you do love him. They keep his torturous thoughts at bay, like a holy ray of light seeping through layers and layers of darkness that seemed impenetrable at first. Until you, of course.

He's smiling softly now, face held by your loving hand that seems to be able to carry the weight of the world, that's so easy for him to trust. He can't believe the silence this act from you brings, and the absolute love it fills him with.

"My sweet star," you say, so lovingly and he melts even more, at sweet star and that damn tone you use on him and only him that he just cannot pull away from. "Talk to me."

It wouldn't hurt to indulge himself. Indulge himself in this opportunity.

"Please," he whispers, practically purring. "Let me have a taste."

You smile and turn your head slightly, giving access to your neck. As if that wasn't enough, you murmur, "Go ahead, Star."

Pale hands reach over to you, one to your arm and the other to the back of your head, keeping you close to him. He kisses your neck in gratitude, for gracing him with this opportunity, for letting his fangs get near you, something so tainted to the most sacred thing he knows. He feels sorry, for doing this to you, but you gave him permission. You're allowing him.

His fangs pierce his skin, and when he starts drinking, he cannot suppress the sigh that the taste elicits from him. You taste heavenly, for someone who hasn't and never will feel even a hint of heaven. He knows this is better than the real thing. He drinks and drinks, like a starved man, even though he did feed from a boar earlier. But what is that compared to you? What is anything compared to you?

He presses his body against yours eagerly when he feels your hands sneak up to his back, hugging him. Such luxury you're giving him—he wonders just what exactly he did to be granted this.

He feels almost disappointed when he pulls himself away, as he's panting, and licking his lips to savour each and every drop of your blood. When he sees a few drops trailing down your neck, the vibrant red against your skin, he doesn't hesitate to lick it up. But just that. He won't drink again. You've been so kind to him, even though he's a greedy, greedy man.

"Thank... you," Astarion whispers, pressing his nose to your cheek, his eyes closed. His hands goes down to your hips, appreciating every contact, before his arms are wrapped around you. 

"Oh, Astarion," you laugh softly, your petting the back of his head. That feels nice. This feels nice. "You really should drink from me more often. You get so cute."

He opens his eyes and pulls away slightly, enough to look into your eyes. The proximity makes him want to kiss you. "Then I shall."

"I mean it."

He pauses. "Yes, you do."

He can see it clearly, hear it clearly. The sincere offer from you. It doesn't feel right for him to take from you. What has he given you, if not the potential issue of loss of blood? And burden? Centuries worth of baggage?

"Astarion," you whisper, with a sad smile on your lips. "Talk to me. Talk to me. I don't like that look in your eyes."

He frowns slightly. "What look?"

"That troubled look. The look you have when you feel bad, terrible even. You don't look peaceful."

Astarion tries to chuckle, but he's sure he's just letting out a sigh. "Darling, we have better things to do."

You scoff softly. "If I had a day left to live, I'd dedicate every second to you."

He pauses. How can you say that so easily? He doesn't get it. He does—he would say the same thing about you but why would you say the same about him? The more he knows you, the more he feels this overwhelming fondness for you, and you simply become higher, taller and so much more, but—him? The more you unravel him, the more he feels like you're inevitably going to find something so terrible and dark that would scare you away, his precious light. His only light. He didn't think he'd be protecting you against himself, so foolishly and deeply in love. He's scared for you. For him. He wants to keep you.

"Come here," you speak up softly, pulling his head towards you and resting it on your shoulder.

He can't help it. It feels to strange that he just has to make a joke out of it. "You're going to kiss it better next?"

That elicits a small laugh out of you. "I will."

There's silence again. You're not going to let this go. He knows you. Your stubbornness. You'll make him talk without even making him talk. He turns his head, so that his face is buried into the fabric of your shirt. He trusts you. Being in your arms like this, being cradled by you—this makes him so weak. So many things he had told you, and you never cowered away, never looked at him differently. Would this be different? Why would this be different?

"You're too good to me and I refuse to ask for too much from you. More than what you already give me," he admits quietly. It's so easy for you to make him say these things. So easy for the words to slip out.

"Nothing wrong with asking."

"It is if it's too much," Astarion replies quickly, lifting his head up to look at you just to emphasise his point. He rests his head on your shoulder once more.

You sigh softly. "I'll decide that, okay? I want you to want things. You should want things. You deserve to, actually."

"You're always talking about what I deserve and they're always good things," Astarion points out, sounding unsatisfied.

"Why wouldn't they be?" you ask slowly, a hint of confusion in your voice. "...You do deserve good things, Astarion."

"Like your blood," he suggests softly.

"Yes, if you think so," you agree, scratching his scalp lightly. He doesn't feel as tense anymore. "But that's a basic need, for you, that I am able to provide."

"It's more than that," he says, almost defensively. It's offensive that you think your blood is something of basic. 

"I know it is to you," you whisper, and he feels a kiss on his temple, which pushes those thoughts away further. "What I'm saying is, I don't mind giving it to you. To me, it's your basic need, and to you, it's... something more. But I'm sure you acknowledge that you need it too. Which is why it's okay for you to ask for it."

"But I have other sources," Astarion mumbles, his hand absentmindedly playing with the hem of your shirt near your hip.

"We have water yet I still look for the wine," you say, in a light tone.

He clicks his tongue. "Wine is not a basic need, darling."

"It is for an alcoholic," you reply, ruffling his white hair playfully. "And... your other sources should not remove me from the menu."

"Why?" Astarion asks, lifting his head up, looking at you with such scrutiny. "Shouldn't they?"

"I would appreciate it if my lover would sink his teeth into me as well, thank you," you say, smiling softly. How can you smile? How can you be so... okay?

"You're not my food," Astarion says stubbornly, brows furrowing.

"I'm your lover, Star. It's natural for me to want to give things to you. To go out of my way to do things to you. Can you let me do that?"

Astarion looks down. This issue has been weighing him down, for days, perhaps more than a week now. It has absolutely been more than a week. He doesn't forget the moments where he drinks from you. Talking about this now... it's heavy. Painful. How can he talk without sounding so pathetic? Without sounding like he's desperate for your blood?

"Hey," you say softly, tilting your head to meet his eyes. "This... problem. We don't have to solve it now. But we will. I just want you to know you can ask things from me. Even my blood. Hell, especially my blood because you need it. I want you to."

"Why would you want me to?"

"It's quite romantic, no?" you suggest, tone light once more and a smile appearing once more. "No one else gets to drink my blood but my Astarion himself. Plus, people in the past used to see kissing as inhaling the soul of another, you know? So you drinking my blood is like... you internalising me. My... love."

He senses you're embarrassed at what you said, as you clear your throat and look away, while speaking, "Of course, that only applies to us. Our thing."

He chuckles. How odd you are, and endearing. He leans in and kisses your cheek, then your jaw. "I think you're right, my dear."

You're right. This doesn't have to be solved now—whatever that is wrong with him. You had helped him through it all, saved him even. He has no doubt you'd do it again, and again. He hopes, one day, he'll be what you are to him. Despite everything that he is, there's a small light in him, that comes from him himself, that tells him that perhaps he isn't entirely ruined. Not when you're holding him like he's whole, like he's something precious and you're afraid to break him. 

With your fingers playing with his white curls, Astarion has everything he needs and wants, and the darkness can only watch him from a distance, unable to reach him with the radiant light surrounding him protectively.

support me

[astrobei]

in my heart of hearts mike wheeler is absolutely an athena kid but i also have to offer up a concept that i think has extreme comedic and dramatic potential aka: repressed gay teenager mike showing up at camp half blood unsure of who his godly parent is and feeling insecure about not having powers and one day when he’s making not-so-secret heart eyes at his best friend and son of apollo will byers is when a bunch of glowing floating hearts show up above his head. and that’s how mike gets claimed by none other than aphrodite, the goddess of love and sexuality, and is in full denial about it for three days because he thinks it’s some kind of sick and twisted JOKE

(on aphrodite’s end, she’s upset mike is throwing away the gift of true love and keeps trying to trick him out of repression by making more and more improbable and hilarious gifts appear when he and will are hanging out. mike hands will a book and it turns into a box of chocolates and he has to fling it away like a frisbee before will sees it. they’re having lunch and romantic music starts playing. she gives mike the same blessing she used to claim piper and will can’t even look in his direction for a full day because he starts blushing so hard. fifty bouquets of flowers show up at the apollo cabin’s doorstep with a note that says love, mike and by the end of it, mike isn’t even repressed and unsure about his sexuality anymore — he’s just trying to not throw himself into the bonfire out of sheer embarrassment)

[verdemoth]

I've continued playing Fallen London on and off and I've been wanting to make a new ref for Mel for AAAGES, not just to update old art but also show some of the character development Mel's experienced after a handful of years in the Neath! The ES 'Adornment' especially was a major turning point for Philomel and sparked Mel's revolutionary leanings, and is when Mel began to realize Mel's formed meaningful ties just as important as Mel's quest for vengeance. This year's estival (the Coilheart Games) brought out another evolution of this, and Mel's settled into an investigative role in the adamant belief that such worldshattering secrets and threats that encompass the entire city should NOT be purposefully withheld from the people living in it.

Image text is probably hard to read, and there's a transcript below this readmore

Text Transcripts:

In the top right are some quick details. Mel's full name is Philomel Pelayo Muros. In the style of other Fallen London characters, Mel's epithet is 'the Steely-Eyed Gun-for-Hire'. Mel uses no pronouns, Mel's 38 years old and 5 feet 2 inches tall. Mel resides in the Flit, and Mel's profession is as a mercenary and freelance investigator. The faction Mel is closest to is the Revolutionaries, with which Mel has 15 Renown. Mel is an Ambition: Nemesis character.

Below this are some notable player character attributes. Of the main attributes, Philomel has high Dangerous and Watchful but low Persuasive. Mel also has high Dreaded. Of the quirks, Mel has high Steadfast, Melancholy, Ruthless, Forceful, and Magnanimous, but low Subtle and Heartless. Mel also has the quality 'Tragedy: Death of a Spouse'.

Paired with the portrait in the top left are these notes, pointing to several parts of the illustration: "Permanent dark circles from years of stress, poor sleep and frequent nightmares. Mel always looks exhausted and more than a little haunted."

"Mel has acne scars, and a lot of other scars. Mel accumulates wounds almost as quickly as Mel does nightmares."

"A skull fracture obtained during 'Adornment' resulted in some long-term afflictions. These include vision and hearing loss (both on Mel's left) as well as vertigo spells. Mel also fractured a wrist and dislocated a shoulder, now prone to re-injury."

"Mel originally shaved just for ease in tending to the fresh wound. But Mel ended up vibing with the style and is still sporting it a few years later."

The next notes point to the raven (named Sarangerel) perched on Mel's arm in another illustration: "A black raven from the Surface - very rare in the Neath. She spent a good many years with the Tomb-Colonist who first found and nursed her to health, and who gave her her name. Sadly, that chapter has come to an end. She's befriended Philomel, and is glad for Mel's companionship. She doesn't speak much these days, but she sings beautifully her wistful, plaintive melodies."

With the drawing of Mel's hand are these notes: "Finally bothered to ditch the New Newgate cuffs, but Mel got used to the weight and replaced them with heavy bracelets. The 'jewels' are coloured glass."

Each of Mel's possessions are accompanied by a note:

"Rose-Shaded Lenses. Prescription, for light sensitivity and migraine. They've seen better days."

"Revolutionary's Red Feather Pin. Kept close at hand, seldom displayed."

"Horseshoe Lapel Pin. Always part of Mel's ensemble. Worn in reference to a departed friend."

"Ring with a Rose Motif. Of significant sentimental importance. It was an anniversary gift."

"Simple Derringer. Typically hidden somewhere on Mel's person, though Mel now favours a knife. Mel's aim isn't what it used to be."

Text transcripts end here.

[love-pyramus]

IM GONNA DIE BEFORE YOU ITS THE FIRST RACE ILL WIN CAUSE I WAS SO SLOW IN SCHOOL BUT NOW IM HECTIC BABY SO CAREFREE LATELY YOU CAN CALL ME MAYBE BUT I DONT TAKE MY PHONE OFF SILENT ANYMORE I CUT MY HEART OFF OF MY SLEEVE SO I CAN PATCH IT ON MY JACKET NEXT TO MY ROBIN AND SOME MATCHSTICKS WHEN INSPIRATION COMES ILL IGNITE IT I CANT HE EVERYTHING TO EVERYONE BUT ILL BE EVERYTHING TO SOMEONE YOU CANT BE EVERYTHING FOR EVERYONE BUT YOU CAN BE EVERYTHING TO SOMEONE

[plutonious]

couple doodles from a bunch of magmas. mostly emmets. I don't think it's obvious but I quite like emmet

[the-game-spirit]

this game has consumed my every waking moment, have a sif

[aweirdbugcreature]

Blue flag basically