#Here it comes

[draculaugust]

last day to be cis and straight, people…. 24 hours until party time….

[migulehove]

sshhhhhh.....

you hear that?

it's the sound of hundreds of artists furiously making fanart of gummigoo just hanging around with the gang

[brightgoat]

insert bible quote here

[stuffaboutminneapolis]

[jun-hyungs]

ah yes. me, my boyfriend, and his giant tsum tsum of me.

[ann-reese]

EXCUSE ME, LORE COMING THROUGH

[divinemachina]

IM SO EXCITED GOOD LUCK TO EVERYONE

[holmes-follows-hockey]

Realising the Ully trade was just the first of many which will make people lose their minds

[arriathedragon]

Just Watched GenLoss

Ranboo anytime he has to have a character arc:

Uh oh I forgor ;-;

[llove-me-anyway]

go on 911blr I'm interested

[bonesbonesbones69]

Theres multiple posts in the TLT tag from just this week with mountain goats songs........ but nothing about my favorite tlt mountain goats song so i guess i gotta make the post MYSELF

i'm talking about THE LEGEND OF CHAVO GUERERO

and im thinking about Gideon in GTN, reading comics and dreaming about getting off the ninth. and crying a little about it!!!!!

[the-bastard-of-the-universe]

[spacevixenmusic]

Source: Delicious In Dungeon [2024]

[arcsin27]

Edit: found this online

[wri0thesley]

cw: angst, illness, child neglect, starvation mention,

kaeya is very aware of how fragile the mortal condition is.

the way he grew up - always hiding, always running, the weight of not just a legacy, but being the saviour of that legacy on his back. never enough to eat, never easy access to knowledge or medication or anything of that sort, though his father did used to tell him about how khaenri'ah was once a hotbed of innovention and wisdom--

seeing people die next to him in cold hard parts of the abyss and teyvat and the wreckage of what should have been part of his inheritance. from perfectly ordinary things; a common cold turned into pneumonia, a body wracked by hunger pangs until it couldn't take it any longer, water that should have been pure and safe but simply was not.

he carries all of this inside of him like a ball of fear in his chest. he carried it inside of him in the dawn winery, when he was the second ragnvindr brother (with crepus practically forcing sweet treats and food down his skinny little throat, medicines and check-ups and doctors and murmurs that kaeya pretends he didn't hear about how if crepus didn't find him when he did, he probably would have been soon for celestia), when diluc caught a fever and kaeya sat by his bedside petrified that his newly found sibling would slip away like so many others had. when the maids he was used to seeing weren't there one morning and crepus said they were taking a day off, they were under the weater.

and he carries it inside of himself now, watching you when you're sick. oh, he covers it - he pokes at your hot cheeks and clicks his tongue at your sweaty forehead, pretends to be casual and joking when he says "oh, come on, now of all times? sweetheart, i've got things to do!". he brings you soup and medicines and pretends to be your nurse when he spoons it down your throat, winks at you, pretends that this is all water off a duck's back--

but you do not see how fear stoops his shoulders in the middle of the night as he sits next to you in bed, counting the seconds between your breaths, tensing when your chest rattles with a cough as he wonders is-this-it-are-they-going-to-leave-me-like-everyone-does. you do not hear his nightmares, your name on his lips as he wakes up from a dream in which he buries your lifeless body. you do not see that tightly woven knot of fear inside of him, because he keeps it hidden.

but he kisses your knuckles when you sleep and murmurs that he loves you, raw and real and open and honest in a way so few ever see - because a part of him, still, fears that this chill, this cold, this fever or illness . . . this will be it, and that kiss is the last one he'll ever give you.

[dncinginthemccnlight]

Closed starter: Isolde Stuart and Javier Wagner (@dxncingxnmyown)

The note had come early in the day, scrawled in Javier's own handwriting. Though it was an invitation, there was no joy to be held in its words. Isolde knew, though the message did not plainly display it, what this invitation held. The faint wobble of the letters and the hesitation between each word pointed to one fact: Javier was getting married and he was going to tell Isolde that night. Isolde stared at the note in her hand; inside her head, she screamed, she raged, she cried until her face was raw from her tears, but still, she sat on her bed, her eyes unblinking.

The day seemed to pass slowly; every moment seemed to take hours. She could not seem to move, there was no will to propel her forward. Instead, she neither ate nor drank, just sat and stared, a living statue carved from marble. Her stillness broke only when the cough compelled, when it ripped through her body and bent her over, a reed in the wind. She had noticed the cough getting worse (she told herself that the red that splashed on her handkerchief was only a result of the soreness of her throat), but she had never felt anything like the way it ripped through her that day, bringing forth the tears she'd held back and, with it, the heat.

She was made of lead. As she rose from her bed, beckoned by the moonlight and her love, there was no part of her body that did not scream out in protest. She told herself that she was just a coward, that she was afraid of what Javier would tell her, but that a queen never shrank from the truth. Still, she wrapped herself in a shawl, guarding against the cold that had seeped into her bones (this despite the fact that she was sweating and her cheeks held the shade of fresh-cut strawberry). Step. Step. Step. Step. She counted her steps, one by one, willing herself forward. Step. Step. Step. The fit overtook her when she was two turns away, the cough burning up her chest, cracking her, and contorting her slender frame. She staggered to the wall, using it to bolster her as she hacked, wheezed, and gasped. She hung on it for a moment after the coughing passed and looked blearily forward. She was so very close and he was expecting her. Step. Step. She held onto the wall as she continued on, but her legs seemed to slide from under her. She was so cold, so tired. Step. A window interrupted the flow of the wall and Isolde lost balance, tumbling to the floor. Lead-weighted limbs were too heavy to move. One more corner. I'm only one corner away. Isolde's mind screamed, even as her vision darkened, creeping from the corners of her eyes inward. Javi. And all was blackness.