#gold-tone

[lolazaki]

Michael Kors Gold-Tone Michael Kors Gold-Tone Bracelet for Women for Women

[watches1111]

 Make a Timeless Style Statement with the Bulova Classic Quartz Ladies Watch

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If you're looking for a special gift for a loved one, the Bulova Classic Quartz Ladies Watch is a thoughtful choice. It's a practical and elegant accessory that will make anyone feel special and appreciated. Whether you're looking for a birthday gift or an anniversary present, this watch is sure to be treasured for years to come.

In conclusion, the Bulova Classic Quartz Ladies Watch is a beautiful and versatile accessory that is perfect for any woman's wardrobe. Its classic design, durable materials, and precise quartz movement make it a reliable and fashionable accessory that will never go out of style. Don't miss the chance to make a timeless style statement with this must-have watch.

[swordmaid]

brienne the blue 🌙🌞

[exstella]

perazna

[freckled-paints]

ITS SPIDER MAN!!! LOOK ITS SPIDER MAN!!

click for better quality!!

[turtleblogatlast]

Imo the most impressive thing Leo’s done is hold this pose for as long as he did while covered head to toe in gold paint:

[filoxenia]

candela

[exercise-of-trust]

shhhhh they're sleeping

[cosmicwhoreo]

Why goldie doesn't get like getting mad-

Yyyyeah... While Gold Choco gets passive aggressive and catty when annoyed, he doesn't really ever let himself get full-blown angry. Mostly because he sees that as the other side winning, that they actually managed to strike a nerve with him. But it's also for the reason that he overheats his inner workings when he snaps. Causing a few wires to spark and systems to restart. Having him cosplay the world's angriest storm cloud of smoke and static.

[aroaceleovaldez]

Thalia's color is ultramarine, Jason's color is cyan, Percy's is teal, Bianca's is green, Nico's is olive, and Hazel's is gold.

The big 3 kids make a color gradient in order (Zeus [sky] > Poseidon [ocean] > Hades [underground]) hope this helps

[lovehina019]

[muzzleroars]

insults/petnames etc

[kabukiaku]

where was this band when i was a wee teen questioning my religion man. anyways art dump cause I couldn’t hold myself back. i love Ghost so so so much ahHHHHH- 🖤🤍✨💀

[lovesickeros]

☆ love; heretical and divine

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 0.8k

To love a God is heretical. It is an act of blasphemy– it is to drag them down from their throne of hollow gold, to topple the pedestal the worshipers uphold on their shoulders like lambs at the herders heel. It is the act of forcing them to their knees and ripping that beating heart of glorious gold and beautiful, cruel divinity from their chest, so pure it burns.

To love a God is to make them sin. To make them painfully, horribly human.

To love a God is to sin.

The love of a worshiper is no love at all, brilliant in its raw purity, untainted by sin. It is fear and obedience masked by adoration so overpowering it corrupts. It makes the lamb so unquestioning in it's faith it will never question the knife that cuts, the teeth that rip, the claws that tear. If the Creator deemed them unworthy of the very life crafted by their hands, then they must have committed a sin so grave there lay no salvation for their horrid soul.

But she is no worshiper– her lips speak of heresy as easily as she breathes, her words nothing but lies, cold and cruel like the ice that crawls along her skin like webs.

She loves a God like a lover should.

A damned sinner reaching longingly for the heavens.

She loves a God in the subtle brush of their lips, their muffled voices behind closed doors as they indulge in curiosity untamed. She is a sinner through and through, but she feels herself fall further with every brush of her hand across their cheeks, every touch she bestows upon them like a lover. She memorizes the imperfections of their body like memorizing a map– every scar, every mark, every line drawn on their body like a canvas, her touch the brush that stains the pristine white.

No devoted lamb shall ever see the painting they create in these stolen moments– it is for the eyes of a heretic so vile it makes them shudder, their body dirtied by the love of a woman so vile even their divinity is obscured by the ice.

The lambs may be satisfied with fleeting glimpses of gold and empty words from lips that guide them to the jaws of the wolves, but she is not. Her hands crave them like a starving hound, aching to touch that imperfect skin hidden by the veil of gold that obscures the painfully human body beneath. She longs to free them from the golden cage that binds them– to see their wings blot out the sky, their divinity tainted by sin and making them all the more beautiful for it.

It is a longing that leaves a festering wound that cannot heal, will not heal. Even if it could, she would not let it.

For as much as she tries, deny it as she may, she is no better then the blind lambs following the herder who holds a blade in their hand, glittering like gold in the sun, stained by dull red.

She is a fool, and what a fool they make of her with the touch of their hands against her skin– so cold it leaves frost on their fingertips. Yet they do not fear the cold, mapping out every inch of her imperfections, carved into her body by her own hands.

She has always been a heretic, cursing the divine until she could speak no more, but if divinity can be found in them – in this love that consumes, that burns her hands and her lips – then she is a Saint, praying at the altar until her throat bled.

But in the end, she has and will always be a cold woman with hands stained with blood. Until it is all she can taste, until it is all she can smell, until it is all she can feel. These hands of hers, heretical and divine, will bleed the God from their veins– she will become the wolf to their lamb until the rivers of Teyvat run gold with their ichor, until the gold bleeds into red, the taste of their divinity on her tongue.

Until she drags a God from their lofty throne and makes of them a monster.

There is no greater triumph to the heretic then to love a God into sin. To make a God sin to love.

To love is to be human, and they are no God.

Even if she must tear the gold from their very being until all that's left is something human. Even if Teyvat crumbles and decays, even if it begins over and over again..

She will do it again and again, until the gold can bleed no longer. Until her sins grow too great for Teyvat to contain.

To love a God is to devour, and be devoured. An endless cycle of sin that dulls the glow of gold into something new– something horrifying and divine, in it's own right. Something just as horrid as her, just as divinely corrupted by the sins she carries on her shoulders like a trophy, as gold as the sun and as cold as ice.

Divinity, carved into something human by love all consuming, until it all bleeds away and they begin their dance anew, for as many cycles as it takes.

An eternity, if she must, of dooming this world of theirs to fire and decay for a glimpse of the being snared by their golden shackles.

[pcktknife]

colored one of the things from last night

[yuhi-san]

you know what the blood gulch chronicles are so fucking funny. the first few episodes is just a bunch of idiots shit talking. absolute useless nonsense.

but its not random rubbish being thrown around. the conservations, as ridiculouse as they are, have a flow. You can actually follow how you got from a to q, even if just looking at a nd q seperately is like, how the fuck did that happen. every comment bounces off of a previous one.

red team trying to name M12 LRV. its just gold. the bickering. simmons being the one not believing that pumas are a real animal. how they keep roasting grif for 'making up animals'.

the way the lines are delivered. it's hilarious.