#your face is divine

[julijbee]

girlbossing too close to the sun.

[unhingedmess]

merlin & arthur, in camelot: we made it!

knight, left behind for the umpteenth time: do i mean nothing to you?

part 2

part 3

[lackadaisycal-art]

Not to go off on one but I can't believe social media has just repackaged the idea that women are unstable and thick and irresponsible and bad at maths and airheaded and pretty and spend all their money on clothes and make up but because they've slapped a fake feminist buzzword on it and a woman is making the video they've made everyone think it's a new wave of female liberation, I feel like I'm going mad

[maythestormsnevertakefromme]

The world when pagans, wiccans and witches acknowledge that divine feminine is literally just repackaged tradwife propaganda and dark feminine is oversexualisation of pagan women and their bodies:

[kacievvbbbb]

Here is me proposing that maybe not the song but the vibes of Sabrina Carpenter’s “Please Please Please” music video is very Mishanks.

Just the general vibes of being super embarrassed not about the fact that your partner is a criminal but because they are so pathetic about it.

Mihawk reading the morning News Paper and seeing that the red haired pirates have ransacked an armoires navy ship and the front page is an obviously posed picture of Shanks giving what he thinks is a pretty boy smile and finger guns. And Mihawk just sighs morning cup of coffee ruined can’t believe he’s attached his name to this ingrate.

[jessamine-rose]

*lovingly tackles Aine*

Read my Yandere! Pierro longfics first ♪( ´▽｀)

Last week, my beloved mutual @ainescribe surprised me with Savior! Darling fan art and AHAI9232@2-!/! CRYING SCREAMING I WANT TO LOOK AT THIS ART AND WORSHIP YOUR VERSION OF SAVIOR THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BLESSING ME WITH YOUR ART—

*clears throat* Anyway, now that I finally have the time to properly sit down and comment on the fan art, I’ll do just that. Feedback will be in the tags and it will be unhinged. Once again, thank you so much to Aine for drawing this <3

[doodlejoltik]

my favourite writing device is having an un-Rei-liable narrator

[dedeuteros]

head librarian isnt looking post gay creatures

[ghostinthegallery]

“This isn’t the end” for Tarzyn/Orikan (bonus points for necrontyr era)

Next prompt request! CW for discussion of cancer/oncological stuff.

###

The ink pot shattered when it hit the floor, spilling a pool of black across the stone tiles. Trazyn cursed, began reaching down to pick up the ceramic remains, but his long sleeve caught the edge of the paper on which he had been writing. That fell too, landing in the dark puddle. Ink saturated the page, erasing hours of calligraphic work.

”Damn it,” Trazyn swore. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

Most of his blasphemy was not towards the ruined page, although that was frustrating. No, primarily he cursed at his hand which refused to stop shaking. 

“It will only get worse, I am afraid,” the oncomancer had said. “Motor function will fail first.”

First, which implied something else had to fail second. Trazyn tried to forget the whole conversation as he grabbed a rag to clean his mess. It was well past midnight, so he could not summon a servant to deal with this. He had come to the palace’s library this late specifically for privacy. So that no one would see the difficulty he had holding a pen or a brush. He wanted to be able to take his time, wait out the tremors and maybe finish some of his work before he—

“Having some difficulty, old man?”

Trazyn’s heart sank. Of course if anyone had to see him like this, hunched on his knees, turquoise robes stained with black splotches it would be him.

”Orikan.” Trazyn sat up, tucked his hand into his sleeve to hide its quivering. “You’re up awfully late. Are the stars going to tell you about the weather next decan? Or perhaps some scion has asked to pick out their most auspicious marriage prospect? I hear you’ve become quite an adept matchmaker lately.”

Orikan’s brow wrinkled in annoyance, disturbing the single eye tattooed across his forehead. There were other such marks, cryptek nonsense, scrawled like tears down his cheeks, around his neck, and along his arms. Those were the only ones Trazyn had seen, though he imagined there were more, hidden under the white and blue robes draped loosely over Orikan’s frame.

”You lords are a petty sort,” Orikan said. “That I am forced to indulge you is a trial, but one well worth it given the benefits to my actual work. And at least I am not stuck copying old poetry like some temple scribe.”

Normally, Trazyn would have come up with some retort. Pointed out that he was in fact reproducing the last illustrated copy of the The Book of Sixes, the earliest recorded example of necrontyr poetry written in hexameter. And Orikan would have rolled his eyes and they would have argued until some other scholar came and shushed them, but tonight Trazyn could hardly summon the will to speak at all. 

“Perhaps it is a waste of time,” he said, looking at the ink-soaked page. “When one doesn’t even know how much time is left.”

“I see old age has made you melancholy,” Orikan scoffed.

Trazyn did not feel as if he had been alive enough to be called old. Just a handful of decades. How could that be considered old? The Old Ones, damn them, had lived millennia and more. They were old. Not him. 

He had outlived so many of his contemporaries and still it was not enough. 

“You will no doubt be thrilled to hear that barring unexpected circumstances you will be the victor in our rivalry,” Trazyn said. “I will not be able to defend myself from the tomb.”

“Stop raving.” Orikan walked past the shelves of datascrolls and paper manuscripts to stand over him. “I always did suspect the sun was taking your wits.”

”Not my wits just yet.” Trazyn lifted his hand and let the silk fall away to reveal his trembling fingers. 

Orikan’s eyes went wide. “What is this?”

“They say the sun attacks the limbs of the worker, the heart of the warrior, and the brain of a scholar..” Trazyn let out a bark of mirthless laughter. “The oncomancers say the larger turmor is growing against the nerve center governing voluntary muscle function. That will go first. Once I can barely move, my memory will likely desert me next, then speech, and then—”

“Stop.”

To Trazyn’s shock, Orikan dropped to his knees. He seized Trazyn’s quivering hand, tightening his grip until it was almost painful. Dark ink soaked the diviner’s white robe.

“Coward,” Orikan hissed. “You think you can escape our conflict so easily? A martyr, taken in his prime by sunsickness. How convenient for you.”

Despair shifted into anger. “I did not develop a brain tumor to spite you, astromancer,” Trazyn snapped. “Nor can I will it away.” His breath hitched. “I am going to die. I am going to die soon, with so much left unfinished.”

“You are not going to die.” Orikan leaned forward, dropped his voice so low Trazyn struggled to hear him. 

“Is that what the stars tell you?” Trazyn said. “I fear they’ve deceived you.”

“You are not going to die,” Orikan repeated. “None of us are.”

The scent of perfumed incense filled Trazyn’s nose. Orikan always smelled of incense and clean night air. It was one of the most irritating things about him. He was uncouth, uncultured, abrasive, spiteful. And brilliant. Tenacious. Beautiful. Half of the time Trazyn wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle him or—

“Orikan—” Trazyn began.

Orikan grabbed the beaded front of Trazyn’s robe and yanked him forward. Their lips crashed together. The kiss took him off guard, but he did not pull away, even as the force of it pressed painfully against his teeth. The warmth of Orikan’s mouth, the taste of him, drove out all other thoughts. For a brief second he forgot anger and despair and death.

”What do you mean,” he muttered against Orikan’s lips. “None of us will die?”

”The Silent King has a plan,” Orikan replied, wrapping his hand around Trazyn’s neck, deepening the next kiss. “He has found the power to take the secrets of immortality denied to us. He has asked me to read the plan’s future, but he is sure it will work. And when it does…” Orikan looked into Trazyn’s eyes, his gaze piercing and green. “This isn’t the end. Don’t you dare leave me or let that damned tumor take you because this is not the end.”

“Why Orikan,” Trazyn said. “I didn’t realize you cared.”

“I care about proving once and for all that you are a vainglorious fool.” Orikan huffed. “I cannot do that if you retreat into death.”

Trazyn pressed his hand against Orikan’s cheek, drew him back into another kiss. More gentle this time. 

“I’d best survive until then,” Trazyn said.

His knees hurt from being forced against the stone floor, but Trazyn did not care. There was always a little pain when it came to Orikan. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself without it.

It seemed too good to be true. An end to death, to suffering, all the time Trazyn could ever want. Alongside a rival who would ensure not a single moment of immortality was dull. He was not sure he believed it. Coming from anyone else he would have considered it madness. But this was Orikan. The stargazer was a fool in many ways, but in this moment, Trazyn believed him.

For the first time in years, Trazyn felt true hope. This would not be the end. Not of him. Not of his work. Not of the necrontyr. 

And, as Orikan dragged him up from the floor with a strength that belied his slender frame, Trazyn realized this was not the end of their night together either.

[aspiringhorrorauthor]

Who are the ultimate ‘gaslight, gatekeep, girl boss’ power triad in media and why is it the Tribunal from Morrowind?

[mako-ink]

Leon WIPS I miss my wife

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

As I am currently using this mod to infuse my honour mode light domain cleric playthrough with some RP flavour, here's a makeup/tattoo breakdown of Isobel from the character creator because I've seen people be curious about it. Also because I Just Think She's Neat and I also find it absolutely wild of her to have her holy symbol tattooed around her eyes, including on her eyelids. Just Cleric Things(TM).

Anyway, I left her with the smudged runny messy makeup because, I don't know, feels iconic.

There are also some cool refs of her and her outfit here.

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Jingliu

[lostlegendaerie]

I know that one of the most painful things you can do is admit you were wrong. The closer a belief is to your heart, the most you guard it against anything that might weaken it. But the very fact that you hold it so close means that you have to examine it, constantly, to ensure that it has not warped into something cruel and untrue while you were holding it so tightly.

[callidusdryadalis]

@cosmosoracle asked:

[ rainfall ] sender finds receiver out alone in the rain MEME; 🐝  *  ―  𝑵𝑶𝑵-𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺.

Eyes were closed off to the beauteous views surrounding, the haze that hammering rain brewed near to the ground itself blurred the potential sights of trees and greenery. It is not the sights that Sorros lingered 'pon, no - - it is the sound of the rain hammering upon foliage and grass alike.

It felt as if the sound alone rippled through the entirety of his person, soothing the aches beneath his skin where muscles tensed from long speights of time 'pon the road. Even as the water soaks through his clothing, drenches his hair and leaves him stood - utterly sodden - does he continue to stand and simply enjoy the wonders of the weather.

"Hmm-?" A brow raised, senses sparking toward an unknown presence in the brush behind, but as of yet it have him no understanding of harm nor violence. "I've a campfire and some shelter nearby if you've need of it---" For the moment, he wanted to continue to soak in the atmosphere and the beauty of the hammering rain across the landscape before him.