#She’s just like

[sunsetsandsunshine]

MY MOM IS TAKING OFF WORK TO TAKE ME TO THE THEATERS FOR MUTANT MAYHEM

CAN I HAVE A “W MOM” IN THE CHAT PLEASE

[stillagoodwitch]

thinking about andromeda wearing shorts for the first time in her life after running away

[hxroic-wxlls-rxborn]

"Icons only" - Teto discovers that Wonderland Squidward somehow surpassed Hatsune Miku in popularity

[etruatcaelum]

[ @hopeandharmonizing // for salem ]

Bleak.

The ruptured pavement sings underfoot with acute unease. Salem slows to trace the husk of a gutted aircraft. Her fingertips pulp, streaking darkly down until bone scrapes the frosted metal; and there are bodies in the cockpit, still. A cloying miasma of pain and terror. They had not died quickly.

She lids her eyes, exhaling, and steps away. This part of the city, nestled against the flank of the academy, bore the brunt of her assault on the fleet: shattered battleships lie amid the rubble of buildings crushed by falling debris. Even the school, well-fortified as it is, had not emerged unscathed, although most of the campus is still standing. Her lips purse.

The Atlesian military never did impress; but even judged by its own standard, it had risen to the occasion of defending its city with dire incompetence.

Absently, she sets the wreckage beside her ablaze. For a moment, the only sound is the greedy roar of unnatural fire; Salem watches it burn in unmoving silence, thoughtful.

Life simmers beneath her feet, but nothing stirs on the surface. The stillness—the unrelenting fear is confounding. Her forces are gone: eradicated in an instant by the hand of a child. From a flock of almost a quarter million, less than a thousand remain, and yet…

Gnawing dread still chokes the city.

Bleak. Bleaker, if anything.

Slowly, she turns away from the makeshift pyre, gaze finding the academy once more. Her eyes narrow. The staff is still in the vault, if the unaltered presence of its crisp power in the foundations of Atlas is any indication, which perhaps rules out Cinder as the one responsible; and if not her—

Salem stills, lips parting as she inhales sharply. A breath of change. The thinnest trace of aura limns one of the drafts churned by the fire, clear as new ice in all the smoke and terror. She glances sideways and finds nothing but lifeless rubble. Desolation.

But oh, yes, now that she’s paying attention to it the whisper of aura in the air is unmistakable, and the cold implication of a smile touches her lips. “Let’s not be shy,” she says, low and venomous. Then, flatly: “…Come into the open, or leave. I don’t care either way. But I will be unpleasant if you persist in skulking.”

[rainedroptalks]

love how snow white just did this :o when hearing about the divorce

[theborzoiarebackintown]

She was pretty zesty at agility tonight

[onceuponanaromantic]

this world is ours to live in

(Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial​‘s prompt: FFF191 You’re Not Alone. This is really a short story based on my WIP: A Match Made in Hell, but you don’t need to know it to understand. Enjoy!)

This is a story about a boy who is also a snake, and a girl who is also a bird.

             This is a story about what happens when your home forsakes you, when the beautiful meadow in the woods closes itself to you, where the clear waters of the lake refuse to allow you passage beyond. You see, even among people who are also animals, among the supernatural and the wild, there are things that are closed to you when you are the very embodiment of bad luck.

             But this is also about people who have been forced to choose when you have not been forsaken yourself. Because the lakes are beautiful and clear, and the sunlight glitters in the trees, and people shift between their animal and human shapes easy as breathing. Because this is a place they call the Nest for what it signifies: this is a home for all those who are not quite one or the other and this is a home where shifting is praised.

             In this story, a girl who is a bird befriends a boy who is a snake.

             It is a day where the leaves flutter in the breeze, the winds strong enough to be cool but not enough to bring true storms. The little yellow leaves sprinkle on the bank of the lake, and these two, they are young.

             “They will not let me stay,” he says, “And so I must go.”

           “But where will you go?” she asks, her hands fluttering on the railing from where she stands next to him on the bridge.

             “I don’t know,” he says, “but will you come with me?”

             And it is this point which changes everything.

             The girl looks back, across the bridge, beyond the trees, she can hear the twittering of chicks. She can hear the older women teaching them how to sing, and the boys changing into peahens and peacocks as part of the latest game they’ve come up with.

             She hesitates.

             “Will you come?” he pleads, “You’re my only friend. I’m scared to do this alone.”

             And she looks back to where the trees rustle and the skies rumble in greeting. The lake water lies clear enough to reflect her own terrified face back at her. The boy is just as scared, even if there is a tired resignation to his eyes, but he looks to her.

             She shakes her head.

             “I can’t.” Her voice shakes.

             The boy looks at her. She looks away, but it is not enough to hide that final twist of disappointment and hurt.

             When he turns into a snake and plunges into the water, the splash sounds like heartbreak itself.

             And years pass. And the vampires come. And they kill.

 And the girl, who has long since resigned herself to cowardice, throws herself into transforming. She flies faster, higher; she shifts faster, easier, smoother than any shifter alive, and they praise her. And she learns to fight.

 But the wood spirits tell the land, and the sand spirits tell the creatures of the water, and somehow, someone tells the shifters.

 The vampires hunt a boy who is a snake. They seek to sacrifice him to open the Gates of Hell, which they know requires a death.

 And a boy who is a snake is the very embodiment of bad luck.

 The Nest elders say good riddance to bad rubbish.

 In the dead of the night, she goes. She steals a bunch of silver knives and syringes of poison strong enough to knock a vampire out. And she runs.

 She flies, wings strong and fast as she listens for footsteps made by someone who has no feet. She listens to the electric hum of the City’s veins, to the quitter chimes of wood reeds, and finally, to the gossip that runs down the water.

 She listens for the voice of the boy she once called a brother.

 When she finds him at last, she is grateful. But whether he wishes to see her is a different matter altogether.

 “Get out.” He demands, certain even from where he’s perched atop a toilet seat. His eyes are jaded and they flick constantly to take the measure of the room.

 “They’re hunting you,” she says, “and they wish to kill you to open the Gates of Hell.”

           “And the Nest left me to die, so what is really so different?”

           “I want to help you,” she says quietly, “I can protect you now.”

           “You left me to die.”

             He slithers away.

             And she flies. She knew it would not be easy, because it never is with him. But she follows him, dogs his footsteps, even as the Nest discovers her absence, and then discovers her theft. She flies and runs and hides, and she stays by his side even when he would rather her leave, and now she fights too.

             “You’re not alone.” She says, one night, as they sit together on a balcony. “I’m not leaving you to die.”

             And so this is a story about a girl who is a bird and a boy who is a snake.

             And when they walk through a mirror and through the waterfall made of fire to enter Hell, they do it together, hand in hand.

[fuckyeahtomblyth]

Tom Blyth with his publicist Phillene Newman last night @ the Knicks game

[someblueninja]

As the oldest sibling in my family I relate to Marie so much because that’s exactly the vibes I get from her as the boss of Deep Cut

[inbabylontheywept]

so once me and my wife were watching a documentary where a snake ate like a million eggs. that snake just went to fucking town on eggs. and the snake made the eggs look so good that i kept thinking about it, and thinking about it, and thinking about it, and eventually it was 11pm and i ran out of willpower and decided to eat one (1) singular raw egg just to prove to myself that the snake was surely a liar.

the snake was not a liar. texture is like, super important to me and raw eggs are very Texture so i had another one, and then another one, and then another one, and eventually i ran out of eggs.

i had like, fifteen raw eggs.

i didnt really know how to explain this momentary madness to my wife, so my Plan was to put all the eggshells into a grocey bag, and then throw that grocery bag in the dumpster, and if she never noticed that would be Excellent and if she noticed immediately i could lie and say that the eggs went bad.

except i cant lie very good, and of course with murphys law being such, i got salmonella.

so i threw up a lot and my wife asked me what poisoned me so and i tried very hard to dodge the question but i was oozing shame like oil from a room temperature cheese and eventaully i gave in and told her everything and to her enormous credit she was more flabbergasted than actually upset. she did make me promise to not eat any more raw eggs, which i have stuck to, and she gives me weird looks during nature documentaries now as if desire was the only thing keeping me from eating thousands of pounds of krill anyway i made a joke earlier about being able to eat my age in eggs and my sister in law in law made a drawing to comemorate the moment and also because it was my birthday. she's excellent. thank you 10000000% @cintailed. you should all visit her page and admire her work.

[puppyeared]

filipina miku!! my mom helped me with her outfit ^_^

[swan2swan]

Whoever conceived and animated this moment, I hope they're doing well and thriving. This is S-rank romance stuff here.

[mountainshroom]

If she has no fans call the ambulance cause I am dead

[frankierotwinkdeath]

Y’all want Taylor Swift to be gay so bad but you won’t even write femslash about her

[yeepof]

Local PHD student at wizard school HARRASSED!! FOR SHAME!!

[cuntstable]

i hate when people call marcille a girlfailure btw like SHE ISNT. and shes not a ”girlboss” either. this is a neurotic and Permanently On The Edge of a Breakdown overachiever late 20s virgin just out of her phd program with permanently shaky hands from an addiction to overly sugary coffee and a deep desire to be crushed to death under falins giant jugs no matter the cost. the only thing shes ever ”failed” at is going to theraphy