#out of ice ice baby

[arkyn-iceborn-vindication]

// Yo! I'm alive! Been over a year since I posted, so a little update from me. I moved, got a new job, and lost the motivation to write.

I've been super into Monster Hunter World, Elden Ring, TFT, and the Yakuza series these days. D&D has sated a lot of my hunger for writing and roleplay, which i think contributed to my losing the drive to write Arkyn.

I'm gonna put this blog on an indefinite hiatus, but i may still pccasionally post over on @matrotas-muse-hub. Mutuals, feel free to hmu for my discord if you wanna stay in touch. I may pop back in from time to time to see what everyone's up to, but idk if I'll be back to writing Arkyn again for a while.

[chloesimaginationthings]

My favourite FNAF animatronic: Funtime Miku!

Inspired by LOLBOTLOID’s post

[francy-sketches]

cringe ass family ❤

[idaminou]

so i watched Inside Out 2 with my little siblings,,,,anyway ill see you guys next year <3

[sofiaruelle]

Would you dance, if i asked you to dance? 😫🫣

A wip for now,,,,

[aprill-99]

Rhys: “So let’s see if I’ve got this; you have immense shadow power, incredible combat skills, height, tattoos, secrets, dead parents, a thirst for vengeance, the weight of the world on your shoulders, a rebellion to lead, and a dragon?”

Xaden: “Yeah? I mean, there’s also my girlfriend who I’m completely in love with and 107 people under my protection but-”

Rhys: *frantically flipping through papers* “this is the hyper-intelligent girlfriend with unprecedented lightning powers? The one you speak to with your mind and call a nickname permanently?”

Xaden: “I do only have the one girlfriend. Kinda offended you’d think otherwise.”

Rhys: *signs a paper* “Adopted. The rebellion thing is handled. Me and your aunts and uncles have got this. Your new mom is going to need some time to add you and your mate to the family portrait gallery. Your bedroom is upstairs, knives are in the training ring, family dinner is every Thursday, your allowance is infinity and your curfew is never.”

Xaden: “I am…. Older than your wife?”

Rhys: “Did I fucking stutter?”

[aengelren]

tell him you know a place then drop him off at a therapist

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 89

 The young justice team is in a bit of a pickle. It had been a usual mission, Klarion causing mischief again, before someone had mentioned the date. 

 The literal chaos lord had shrieked, stopping his attack, and asked for clarification. Maybe that wasn’t a good idea because one moment they were in Happy Harbour, and the next they’re somewhere else with green everywhere and floating islands. 

 And Klarion doesn’t explain- not that they were expecting him to- and just bolts into a… wow that is a very big and scary looking castle. Keep? Honestly it’s if someone combined a gothic citadel with a clocktower of some sort. 

 Not important, because they had chased after Klarion who uh… Oh no, that is a Very big entity, that is two Very Big entities that could crush them in their fingers. And they are now stuck in this place seeing as the portal closed behind them. 

 Honestly Klarion is happy he made it home before curfew! Even if he had to bring his sort-of-friends with him to make it in time. It’s not his fault, he’s not used to having a guardian, nevermind two! Not to mention siblings, which he’s now the oldest of too, so he has to be a positive influence. Like teaching them how to properly do chaos without destroying a world. 

 Oh, but this is perfect anyway, one of his dads has been wanting to talk to the speedsters anyway, and his other dad is still under house arrest for the whole, trying to take over the living realm thing. But that’s not important, he has little siblings to introduce! 

[turrondeluxe]

I feel like Mikey would trauma dump on stray cat’s often

Oh, he did.

[arkyn-iceborn-vindication]

// Hey everyone! 

I apologize for the inactivity, life’s been a bit hectic recently.

I finished moving into a new apartment, and right as I finished moving, my workplace finally pulled the trigger on moving the store. This means that I am doing a lot less store-managing and more store-moving. It’s been busy AF and I’ve been a bit burnt out. Without getting much into it, I used to love my job to bits, but now I despise it and I’m looking for work elsewhere. Hope I find something soon.

On top of that, I was regularly suffering 80+ degree F temperatures inside my house at my old place. Moved into my new apartment, AC worked fine for the first few days, but yesterday and today it hasn’t dropped below 82. Hoping it sorts itself out soon otherwise I’m gonna have to call someone tomorrow and I am so tired of fighting with landlords over outdated and broken AC units during the Texas summer.

Anyways, I hope to get back to replies next week, sorry for the delays friends.

[hereditaryconditions]

sansa stark

it hurt to remember how happy she had been that morning. hullen had helped her mount, and she'd ridden out with the snowflakes swirling around her, off to see the great wide world. (a storm of swords, sansa vii)

*costuming loosely inspired by korean traditional hanbok

[guardian-angle22]

"Fox 11 did a segment on me last year after the blizzard… and the morning guy said I was the Hero on Fire and Ice." 911: LONE STAR | PAUL STRICKLAND

[turtleblogatlast]

I am once again reiterating that Leo could and should be a figure skater because what are ice skates if not twin blades? What is dual blade swordsmanship if not a dance-like performance? Using the skates as blades themselves could let Leo make portals be his ice rink no? I rest my case. ⛸️

[wodania]

“When she kissed the little Queen upon the cheek, she could taste the salt of her tears.” Cersei III, AFFC

purchase as a print here

[franzkafkagf]

being aegon I and visenya like:

[abyssal808]

S1 Soulmate Au prompt inspired by @subbaculture 's prompt wherein "Eddie learns Tengwar just to be special and so Steve's been kicking around with "What's Kickin', Sexy?" on his body

What Tommy Hagan hadn’t been blessed with in terms of intelligence. God - in his allegedly infinite wisdom - had seen fit to redistribute into shoulder width.

Tommy, in turn, swanned around Hawkin’s High shoulder-checking every freak, geek and nerd into nearby lockers; with the kind of wingspan better suited to weirdly proportioned monkeys.

Hellfire members were no stranger to it. Two weeks ago Hagan had run into Gareth hard enough to leave a bruise. A “bump” with enough force behind it that he’d bounced off the lockers and landed on the floor.

Which, fine, two could play at that game. Even if Hagan could barely get his hand off Carol’s tits to realize there were counter-moves to be made at all.

A grade A dick move, even if it was also incredibly boring and pedestrian. The kind of thing jocks who barely had two braincells to rub together saw as peak comedy. Giggling like a cross between a group of cavemen and a flock of pre-school girls whenever their ring-leader du jour started herding freaks like a neurotic border collie.

“Watch it, freak.” Hagan hissed, skirting around Eddie without bothering to shove him at all. Giving a wide berth to whatever zone of contagious freak cooties being Eddie Munson brought to the table.

Behind him, Gareth - blocked from the rest of the hall by Eddie’s leather jacket, in a way only freshies were short enough to pull off - buried a laugh in a cough, muffled into the heel of his hand. Not missing the way that even Hagan - the most infamous asshole of them all - looked ready to bolt as soon as Eddie waved him off in a jaunty salute.

Victory tasted sweet and electric. Fizzing under his skin the way Wayne’s Miller Lites would bubble in the back of his throat, whenever Eddie stole a sip from the half open cans in the back of their fridge. It made him stupid in a way those brief tastes of beer hadn’t managed to yet.

Being The Freak came with perks. An untouchable radius that left Eddie drunk with power. Riding the high of knowing that maybe Highschool didn’t have to suck all the time. That he could play at being a rabid guard dog for the lost little sheep of the world, rail against dickheads like Hagan and win.

Maybe he could use it to plead temporary insanity for what he did next. Riding the high into a really, spectacularly stupid idea.

Everyone had their words.

Eddie’s were tucked away, hidden along the curve of his rib. A curly chicken scratch that mixed print and cursive into a barely legible mess.

‘Is that like, yiddish?’

A weird-ass question, until Eddie had pulled an all nighter on a now infamous school night, falling in love with Middle earth. Head filled with nothing but the dark halls of Khazad-dûm, the sweeping boughs of Lothlórien.

Speak friend and enter.

Pedo mellon a minno.

He’d traced the words over and over. Thrilled by the lilt, the cadence, the beautiful rise and fall of consonants no one else would understand.

Setting his heart there and then on the dorkiest greeting anyone could have come up with. But hey, it was original, which was half the battle people went through when picking soulmate greetings.

He’d gone through several variations. Always in Sindarin, because why the hell not.

People usually saved them, tucked them far away from casual conversation. Bizarre phrases, always non-sequitour, brought out only for special occasions. That lightning strike of instant attraction. People you could see yourself connecting with. Hoping they would be a part of you as much as you were theirs.

He couldn’t see himself connecting with Tommy Hagan in a million years. Not even if they waited in that hallway until the heat death of the universe.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t terrorize him with the possibility.

“What’s Kickin’ Sexy?”

He yelled after Hagan’s retreating back, with its fuck-off wide shoulders; elvish mangled, but passable. Enjoying the rictus of horror on his face, going from anger to fear and back again.

He shifted on his heel, pushing Gareth further behind him in case things got ugly. Herding him back towards Jeff with little bumps, as both of them tried to muscle down their cackling. Nerdy enough to piece together the gist of what Eddie had been hollering about. Even if Jeff was better at Quenya, because he was a weirdo and a purist about that kind of shit.

All in all, a job well done, assuming Hagan didn’t flip his shit and start throwing punches to assert dominance.

Or at least, it felt like it, until Harrington - trailing behind Hagan - sucked all the air out of the room. Hands on his hips, a furrow on his brow, blurting it out without even thinking about it.

“Is that like, Yiddish?”

You could have heard a pin drop.

Panic clamped around Eddie’s throat like a vice. The same way Gareth’s hand, tiny and tense - he had yet to hit his growth spurt - wrapped around the edge of Eddie’s leather jacket. Pushing past the waistband of his jeans to claw at skin.

The side that mattered, one they both knew had those words that wrapped around Eddie’s chest. Curving towards the sternum.

Whatever face he was making gave it away instantly.

Harrington’s face shuttered and fell. A whole host of micro expressions that passed through in a second before he scrubbed them away. A pair of shaking hands that rubbed at his eyes and dragged down his face. Peeking at Eddie through a gap in his fingers.

“Jesus Christ it’s you; isn’t it?”

Behind Eddie, Gareth tugged him half a step back, nails digging into his hip. Little half-moon crescents he barely felt now, but would find later.

“Steve?” The waver in Hagan’s voice would have been funny if it wasn’t nauseating.

Terrifying, when Steve waved him off and stepped towards Eddie. Jerky and halting, like a puppet with half it’s strings cut.

“I can’t fucking believe this Munson. You gotta tell me if it is.” Steve bit out, with a wobble that sounded too trembling and confused to be anger. Even if it would come later.

It was probably coming later.

Anger always got there in the end, with boys like Harrington. Sharp comebacks and sharper right hook always winning out, spurred on by that bone-deep, animal fear of losing your place in the social food chain.

King Steve didn’t seem worried it yet though. Adding to the bizarre hilarity of the situation as he undid his belt and untucked his shirt to the concerned shouts of everyone left in the hall, witnesses to this trainwreck.

If Eddie hadn’t been convinced he’d died and gone to purgatory a minute earlier. He would have been convinced there and then.

As Steve Harrington turned around, bunched his striped polo up high and his khaki’s down low. Stripping down to show the athletic curve of a hip. The dip of a waist that looked small next to his swimmer’s shoulders - almost wide enough to rival Hagan’s - a scattering of moles that dusted across his lower back, framing his mark.

There, on King Steve’s back, bracketed by dimples, low enough to count as a truly slutty tramp stamp sat Eddie’s words. The swooping curves of Tengwar branded into his skin.

“What’s kickin’, Sexy?”