#my tags are gone rip

[narikill]

aughdhshfjjsjcjdjfjsbgsknfjs <- leshy in this art probably

[pxltown]

if only we knew the things we’d know

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

ayyyy ok here's some extra Laughingstock Sillies from the past week or so. it aint much but its honest work

(human!Barnaby's design is partycoffin's - from their pokemon au! he's beautiful....)

[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.

[crastlefolke]

o7 tango, king of the mundane deaths <- me trying to process that tango died from the minecraft equivalent of stubbing your toe on a rock

[uchiha-gaeshi]

Konoha is ruining my favourite ships

Like the village is such a huge cockblocker. All my OTPs, it doesn't matter if it's HashiMada or HashiMito or MinaKushi or SasuNaru, (honourable mention to brotp KakaObi), are all being HELD BACK because at least one of the mfs in the ship is a bootlicker

[crab-san]

main character trio

[surreal-duck]

es rarepair week day 6 - holiday/shopping

i think about the flambé santa bears a normal amount

[dizzybizz]

some magma doods bc i have spent so much time on there this past week or so

i love drawin w friends 😚

[uninformedartist]

In memoriam of Angel's Floof 😔🙏, the Queen lied, they died most tragically 🙏

Gone but not forgotten 😔✊

[kandicon]

*writes the same exact headcannons in slightly different scenarios over and over again*

[72stars]

“Burning Bright” costume/character rough (very rough) design ideas for Sunfire & Wolverine, because I didn’t have much in the way of ideas for them (outside of “okay but it’d be fun if Wolverine showed a lot of skin? and okay I guess here’s some less tits-out ideas” and “I’m just… not going with an imperial flag motif for Sunfire this version has been with the X-Men since he was a teenager it doesn’t make sense for him anyway”) and decided to get their roughs out of the way first (next up for roughs: Rogue & Storm)

[katabay]

there's something I do about once a week over on my other art blog, where I write a bit about whatever I'm working on, and I thought I'd start doing something like that over here!

that knight-priest illustration took off way further than I thought it would! it was actually a test run for a short comic idea I had been fucking around with: a disgraced lord who killed his brother and becomes a knight as a form of penance and ends up falling in love with a franciscan.

and underneath that notebook is the notebook I've been writing bad governance in. it is. ohh. the edits are many. I forgot to keep track of the election cycles, which is a huge oversight, since many of the characters are politicians.

[memento-morri-writes]

It's been well over a week now (maybe two??) but I'm still plugging away (ever-so-slowly) at this vignette about Zara and Rook. Zara's POV is a lot of fun to write, now that I have a better sense of her character. Writing this has really solidified in my mind the kind of person she is and how she acted when she was Rook's captain and mentor. She's very calm and collected in comparison to Rook, even when under a lot of stress.

Anyways, have a little snippet that I'm proud of from today, featuring the origins of the coin trick!

Pacing back and forth across her cabin floor, she rolled the coin back and forth over her knuckles again and again. The motion was easy, almost mindless, more muscle memory than real intent. The coin trick had been her favorite way to soothe her nerves for years now. She’d picked it up out of idle curiosity after watching a street performer dining in a tavern in Bon Largo, who had chatted with her for over an hour as she fretted about something mundane, never once dropping the coin from their fingers. The same performer had later tried to steal her coin purse and ended up with nothing but a new scar for their trouble, but Zara had learned two important things from the encounter: Not to trust a warm smile and a pretty face, and that keeping her hands moving kept her mind from dwelling too much on worrisome things.

one-time tagging @space-writes because they commented on my tags about Rook learning the coin trick from Zara in one of my other snippets from this piece.

[orcelito]

Ok also so I got my eyebrow and nose piercings back in... march, I think? I was supposed to go back in to get the bars changed out some time ago but I never did. Largely bc my eyebrow piercing has Not been healing smoothly (keep accidently banging it and getting it caught on things so it doesn't wanna heal) but I think the long bar has been actively hindering my healing (making it easier to get caught on things) so I decided to change it out Myself. Bought some new smaller jewelry online and it got here today and

I'm not generally squeamish when it comes to my own body. Like pain, blood, whatever. Don't rly care.

That, though... that took some effort.

But I did it! Smaller jewelry to hopefully make healing a little smoother from here on out. I also got some new jewelry for my nose stud that'll get here tomorrow. That one at least won't be a huge deal, since the nose piercing has healed so much more smoothly, thankfully.

(Preemptive warning for Gross Details in the tags. Lol)

[scattered-winter]

THIS SUCKS!!!!