#why are you on tumblr bestie

[starrierknight]

one of these days I'm going to hunt down each spam liker who reblogs fuck all

[brainrotcharacters]

the easy grip on the knife. the leg over the seat. the hand over the other seat. the sassy "come get it" move. you know the bitch is smiling behind that mask even as he said the line.

[potato-lord-but-not]

epic wife moment

[freckledsweetpea]

I will always immediately lose respect for any queer person playing the "we have it worse" olympics against another queer person.

[linovadraws]

August and Peter figuring out the whole ~siblings~ thing. From the October Daye series, specifically the Patreon story, "In Safety Rest".

[fastianini]

Valentino Rossi & Marc Márquez

[ happy (belated) 9 year anniversary to sepang 2015 aka the one weekend everything went wrong, everything changed and that still haunts motogp to this day <3 ]

history of man by maisie peters

[askticcitobyshit]

before the break-up

[juniperhillpatient]

i just had somebody rb a toxic yuri meme i made that had ginger/brigitte and they included in the tags something like “idk why ginger and brigitte are here they’re sisters” and i’m just like 😭😭 i’m just not gonna say anything

….this movie literally invented toxic yuri tho?

[qkmlh]

WAIT HOLD ON!! ALRIGHT BOYS HERE’S THE MOST IMPORTANT QUESTION:

[leaf-in-a-flower-garden]

No.1 reason why I hate this fucking fandom

[oh-meow-swirls]

i think this was funnier in my head.

[nuclearbleu]

New character incoming, babes

Some concept sketches and portraits of my new Echo Knight Anastasia and an npc

[hostilemuppet]

@ people who complain about getting notifications for posts they didnt make, im sorry to tell you that its not a glitch or tumblr in general being an awful website again, its something you did

you clicked this by accident. click it again to unfollow

[idaaadivock]

not to talk about dune on main but like. lisan al-gaib became an instant meme in the theater i was at. like great acting amazing music (thank you hans zimmer you're a real one) phenomenal photography and setting and fight choreography

but stilgar's LISAN AL-GAIB in every circumstance possible was so funny it made the whole theater erupt into laughter directly after the fight with feyd-rautha which is supposed to be like. poignant ig and powerful and an overall vibe

y'all hit the wrong vibe besties 😭😭

[coriander-candlesticks]

Today's thing I'm turning over in my brain: resisting the urge to go "this person whose insights I respect does this thing x way so if I do it y way I'm Wrong and Bad" because like. That's not true? At all? Obviously there are limits but the limit is, like, being a folkist, not conceptualizing incredibly individual aspects of worship in slightly different ways.

Offerings, for example. I tend to offer steam in place of burning offerings for meals because I don't have a good way to burn food at the moment and it feels wasteful. If applicable, I'll also set aside what seems to be the best portion and eat it last in recognition of the offering. This is because I:

1) have makeshift altar spaces atm that don't leave much space for more involved meal offerings

2) conceptualize food offerings to ouranic deities as something you share in thanks (even w/ libations, you drink what you don't pour out). Offering the steam (analogous to smoke imo) and eating the meal/drinking the beverage is in that category to me. It's also a way to actively remember the gods, because I'm consciously leaving a portion for last, have dedicated something I can physically see, etc.

3) live in a house that bugs get into easily and have no intention of drawing the little fuckers towards my room or altar spaces b/c I left too much food out for too long. This is also why I eat unwrapped food offerings after a certain point (usually the end of the day) on top of wanting to avoid waste.

On top of that, any sort of prayer or offering takes effort because everything takes conscious effort for me. Regardless of whether it's a food or meal offering, or a libation, or a devotional/dedicatory activity, I'm not only managing to actively remember it and the gods but am also taking the requisite time and energy to complete it.

Engaging with the Hellenic community has really helped me stretch my "doing things differently is okay" muscles which has been nice. Call that character development lol

[im-an-anthusiast]

Ditches and Spiders

God, his forearms ITCHED.  Ugh – they sang a horrible siren song, to which the only answer was the raking of claws, the bloody contact of skin and nails. Or whatever. He clenched his fists, twisting them, rolling his wrists, and watching the taut, lean, yet somewhat gaunt muscle flexing under his scarred skin. Calixte hated the scars so, so much. They weren’t ugly, contorting, or shredding, and they weren’t spirals of thorns or carved spines. They were “beautiful”, twisting, mending – spirals of petals and curving stems. Calixte always hated the mix of lily flowers curling up his arms in a monotone white of scar tissue. They made him sick. His entire lunch – half of a white chocolate granola bar – tickled the very top of his throat, acidically ghosting over the roof of his mouth. He ought to practice Magic again.  

He applied the Sepal Balsam. Almost half the container coated his forearms thickly, massively surmounting the blood below it. Was that... wait... quadruple- no, pentuple the recommended dose? Perhaps that was why he could feel his pain fade into such intense numbness so quickly that in mere seconds he could not feel his forearms at all – and could, in real-time, watch the open wounds, cuts, gashes, and lacerations riddling his forearms and climbing up his bicep close, and twist at themselves, forming sickeningly intricate floral shapes, layering onto those already there. What a disgusting toll he has to pay, really. And, sure, he could always not push himself so much or just wait for himself to heal, but how would he get better, then? The best around don’t just rest. No pain, no gain, after all! He just has to push himself a little harder, surely...! 

The gloves contracted around his arms. They squeezed and cried at the Magic pouring into them, pushing and lashing at his flesh. The gloves wrung his arms, and blood dripped out from their hems at his biceps. All for... him.  

The bouquet strained in his arms. The paper tore open at the pressure pushed into it, flowers spilling around his flesh. Ditch and spider lilies both wrapped around his forearms, slipping from his embrace one by one. All from... him.  

“Are you proud, dad?”