#Sorry for the sads

[omegapropaganda]

WIP Wednesday!

Y'all seemed to really like last week's so here is a sneak peak into Burnt Honey chapter 9!

You just nodded as you pushed the rest of your beans around your plate. You could tell Soap was lying. It wasn’t hard. The beta’s scent was underlaid with something bitter as he spoke, but you let it go. You were sure now that Ghost’s disappearance was your fault. It was good that he decided to pull away now before you got too attached.

Your poor omega didn’t know what to think though. It had been pacing back and forth for the last few days crying out in search of the alpha it had bonded to. The connection you’d had with Ghost little more than a wisp now. If it wasn’t for the small pulses of shame that broke through every so often you would’ve brushed it off as a figment of your imagination.

“Thank you for breakfast, Soap.” You pushed your half eaten toast away and stood from the table. “I’ve gotta go get changed.”

You left the room quickly, not paying attention to anything Soap or Kyle had to say as you headed back to your room.

Now that you had a change of clothes you made your way to the showers. You had to get all these new scents off of you. You could feel Kyle’s omega curiously tugging at your connection, and your omega wanted to respond to the call. It wanted you to go find him and curl up in the comfort being offered, but you knew better.

You were such an idiot. What were you thinking letting yourself believe that there was any place in this world where you were wanted.

[saaraahka]

I just wish I were good enough to experience what its like to be loved and kissed good night and fall asleep next to someone who love and care about me

[ooachilliaoo]

In All But Name - Loss

It felt like having an arm cut off. Or like there was a gaping hole in the world. An awful absence that pervaded her every move and thought. The space where he should be.

She wondered if they all felt it, or if it was particular to her.

Would it always be like this?

Or would it get easier over time?

She hoped for the latter, but maybe the price for all the happy moments they’d had while the land suffered under the blight was to live with this awful emptiness forevermore.

They should have been happy. She should have been happy. They’d done the impossible. United the kingdom under one strong ruler and defeated the blight. They deserved a reward, not a punishment.

Except that ruler was him. And two Grey Wardens couldn’t have children. So he couldn’t marry her. Couldn’t make her queen.

She’d tried to think of an alternative solution, but – like the problem of who should rule the kingdom in the first place – she hadn’t, in the end, been able to find anything other than the obvious.

So, she’d left.

Ceded her place in his arms on the floor of that beautiful ballroom to Lady Lyra and… left.

The only indication that she’d been able to give him of her intentions was the briefest shake of her head. Maker only knew how he’d react when he realised what the gesture meant.

But he’d be okay. They’d both be okay.

He, with his gentle heart and sharp mind, would lead Ferelden into a new, prosperous age. His past would ensure that the poor and hungry wouldn’t be left behind or forgotten, while his optimism dreamed up the image of a brighter, fairer future for him to work towards.

And she – her two previous lives left in ruin behind her – would walk into her next life. Older, stronger, and prepared to dedicate her life to the Order that had, for one shining year, brought her such joy. She knew how to run an Arling, and how to train an order of warriors, and she would make sure that his kingdom remained protected.

She’d watch his back, instead of him watching hers.

And they’d both be okay.

She’d seen it all on that balcony, the one that she’d fled to after leaving his arms simply because it was the nearest exit and she hadn’t wanted anyone to see just how much she hurt. The night air had been a balm to her battered heart. As long as she ignored the faint remnants of the music on the edge of her hearing – as long as she didn’t picture what might or might not have been happening on the dance floor with a man she still considered hers – she thought that she might have been able to regain control of herself.

But her thoughts had been racing and she’d worried that if she went back into that ballroom – even just to cross it in order to leave – he’d find her and convince her to stay. Or worse, she’d see him dancing with someone else, and actually enjoying himself.

She’d suffered a lot in the past year, seen any number of horrors…

But she didn’t think she could have survived seeing that.

And so, the newly minted Warden Commander of Ferelden, Arlessa of Amaranthine, had found herself climbing over the balcony, down the castle wall and escaping into the gardens.

Read the rest on AO3

Read the full series here

[spira-fae]

Okay unchristening this blog with a thought that crossed my mind from all the smiling papa edits and is a concept i wanna try making into a fic one day: the papas dont smile because they weren't encouraged to do so from childhood.

They can do the most intense of stares, and hide the promise of pleasure behind sultry words, because these display their power, the prestige they have to hold up as Papa and leader of the clergy. They can puppeteer people's feelings like it's second nature, and invoke in others a carnal desire and a joy to be derived in partaking in a ritual. Weakness, however, is tamped down. Weakness is vulnerability, and that includes showing others the softest part of your soul. Maybe the papas learned from bitter experience that the world is more than ready to trample them for convenience's sake. So, they master charisma and charm in presence and power, because a hint at all of what things they hold dear can be used against them.

Maybe the doubt of Copia's ability comes from this precedent set by the previous papas as well. In the moments where the trick of light seems to give away the faintest of smiles, whether these are the moments where he's singing on stage, or marvelling at the ghouls, these are signs of a vulnerability he has yet to learn how to properly contain. Does it eat at him, in the dead of the night when he's meant to be asleep? Is this just another weight on the burden he carries wondering if he's worthy of the title? He ages so rapidly in less than half a decade, hair going salt and pepper hued, and wrinkles deepening and defining within just months. He fought for this chance, of course, but is he ready to carry the weight of that burden?

Despite all this, just that tiny little almost-grin manages to slip, every single time, and there's nothing he can do to hide that guilty joy at the job he oh so loves yet grows to dread.

[sadclowncentral]

cannot stop thinking about the french man who during dinner responded to a person asking "should we be naughty and get desert" by pulling a face and going "naughty? it is chocolate, it is not an, uh, threesome"

[luminixx]

“Your mom” gone wrong. Not the right person.

this is lowkey so unserious don't kill me. it's a reference to all that stuff about his mother that I am seeing.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Pomni and Gummigoo reunite in TADC!

[the-phantom-peach]

🗣️ huh?? what do you mean I haven’t posted any Link signing propaganda yet??

[camilleflyingrotten]

[spoopdeedoop]

WYD WHEN MY GANG PULL UP !!!

[hinamie]

dead man walking

[onebigsword]

Sad wet nun be upon ye

[irlplasticlamb]

kazia parkerowska aka spider star is an 18 years old polish doomer art student who got bitten by a radioactive spider and then convinced (khe khe forced) into a superhero role by her kooky hippie auntie majka. woohoo. nothing better than to save the world when you don’t give an absolute shit!

prints + merch + commission info

[daisychains111]

Thalia doesn’t keep many things in the hundreds of years she’s been alive. 

But long ago, there were people, their names all but distant memories, who mattered in her 1st lifetime. It’s their things that stay hidden in her bag, reminding her of her mortal life. 

A blue hoodie, worn almost threadbare. The scent of its original owner, long since leached from the fabric. But if she closes her eyes, she can almost see the blue eyes of her first and only love. 

A pair of glasses. Frames cracked and crooked. A reminder of a brother she never got to truly know. 

A baseball cap. It’s magic long faded, branded with a forgotten logo. Memories of a blonde girl laughing hidden deep within. 

A letter. Ink fading, paper yellow. The last words of a dying friend. Words that wish her well, words that wished her well in a world they had fought side by side to save. 

Thalia doesn’t keep a lot of things, but even after all this time, Luke, Jason, Annabeth, and Percy will stay with her forever. The memories of her first family to remind her why life is so beautiful.

[wojtekaneko]

That's how it went

[creative-clawmarks]

Just outside the [ANGEL]'s line of sight,

two puppets recognize each other.