#separate materials

[deimosatellite]

[baexywth]

[marusketch]

sketched the funny mushroom image

[mmadeinheavenn]

animated caution tape divider

free to use! however please reblog if using and credit wherever possible

other colors below cut

[gothicwill]

You’ll just be casually watching nbc Hannibal and Will graham will suddenly drop the most romantic line you’ve ever heard, and you just have to pause the episode and stare at a wall to digest that shit.

[kheprriverse]

I might be a little obsessed with this design...

[noahmullariii]

the way Percy's friend group is literally -

4 monsters:

half-goat who's technically twice his age

one-eyed brother who's technically half his age

surprisingly lovely giant dog from hell

strangely devoted flying horse who can talk

and an odd assortment of people:

his mama

immortal lesbian who was a tree for a few years

scary buff girl who bullied him a little

autistic kid who radiates death and had a crush on him

nicest demigod ever whom he had a crush on before he... died

allegedly normal girl who now randomly tells the future

autistic girl who tried her absolute hardest to hate him then promptly fell in love with him. now they're soulmates

goddess of hearth

[fellshish]

The job minisode meat eating moment is when crowley found out his corporation could, in fact, get a boner

[lovesickeros]

☆ you sow; & thus you shall reap what you are owed

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

You are dying.

Gold melts into the dirt, bleeds into the very earth that you'd molded by your own hands – a familiarity you do not understand the source of – you know it to be true, yet you do not remember it as Teyvat does. It weeps, in turn, for the way you bleed upon it, the way your lungs strain for breath.

It is fury and sorrow and fear and hatred so raw that your mind buckles.

You will die.

"A dying godling and its judge, it's jury – it's executioners," The voice is hollow and cold, sweeps across your broken body like the first chill of winter, "Archons who saw themselves Gods, now brought to heel by their own hubris."

A cold hand upon your cheek, the brush of a thumb across your lip, the gentle caress of cold across your skin. You know her – you don't remember, you shouldn't recognize her but you do – and she knows you. The cold beckons and you follow, let her kindness settle in the hollow space of your chest. You want to speak, to cry and scream and rage, let the world burn around you in a fit of flames so hot even she cannot contain it – but she silences you, quiets the anger seeping into your blood, quiets Teyvat itself.

"Do not speak, little godling. Guide my hand," She is cold; her hands are not gentle, yet it is bliss compared to the callous, cruel hands that have shattered you. She is cruel and cold and brutal but she is love in the way she kisses the crown of your head. She is love in the way she is the bulwark between you and the world that has scorned you – she is fury in the way she brings them to their knees. "And I shall enact judgement most divine."

They will pray for forgiveness, and they shall find themselves wanting.

"It wasn't our fault!" They cry, but you cannot recognize the voice – it breaks and cracks like glass. "They were too human. How were we meant to know? We– we thought they were.."

Silence.

You watch your judge – the executioner, the blade that shall carve their sins into the very marrow of Teyvat, stand above you like death. As cold as winter and just as brutal. Your temple has been painted in the gold of your divine blood, and she shall complete the masterpiece with their own. The Archons shall become the grandest art in the world – this temple the canvas, their blood the paint and their bodies the palette. The cold that cuts sinew cradles you – it sings to you, whispers sweetly in your ear and carves bone from body in the same breath. The cold presses it's lips to your wrist and it cradles a heart within it's palm – judges them and finds them guilty.

It is her spear that rests between their ribs, her sword that dissects and her dagger that carves – the cold devours.

In the breadth of this divine sanctuary, the Archons dwindle. They become the pieces of a divine work of art, they bleed and bend and break upon her hands. She shakes the heavens and carves mortality into the bones of the divine – your word is Law, and you weave their deaths into the roots of Teyvat itself.

They shall know of their grand folly in every moment henceforth and longer still and they shall weep.

And as the curtain falls, as the world crumbles beneath fist and blade, she cradles your face between hands too cold – as gentle as a shard of ice between your ribs, as brutal as the kiss of gentle snowfall. The world buckles at the loss of six, but she alone does not allow it to break – you will have to mend the wounds of the world when you are well, but today you weep and Teyvat weeps with you.

And alone, the cold remains.

Stone has eroded, the wind has ceased, the flames have been extinguished, the storm has been silenced, the forests have gone quiet and the seas go still.

But the cold remains, bathed in gold.

It wraps you in thick furs, cradles you against the winter storm that brews beneath a veneer of composure. It brings you home – lets the world settle into a stillness and silence that inspires only dread and still she presses a kiss to your brow.

It is cold, but there has never been something so warm.

Where hands have broken you, she drapes you in furs, wipes away the thick gold that clings to your skin. She pieces you back together where you have been shattered, reshapes you where you have been bent – makes of you something new. Not a god and not a mortal but something wedged between them.

But you are yourself.

And you are where you belong.

They shall put you back together and you shall know only the worship worthy of the divine. They shall carve this world into your image, tear out and burn away the rot that festers.

All you need to do is say the word and they shall be your tools to make this world your own.

One word and those who wronged you shall burn, too.

Just one word. That's all it takes, and they shall take away your pain.

[daisy-mooon]

"I want Annabeth to be blonde :(" then pick up a PJO book and read it you dumb fuck

[undedkat]

I'll cross the boundaries of the world just to hold your hand

[fromtheseventhhell]

it's wild to see people say stuff like "sansa is a politician, arya is a warrior" while not being able to point out a single political act sansa has achieved, and not being able point out any of arya's "warrior skills" that isn't the handful of fencing lessons with syrio she received for like five months max lol

Politician!Sansa and Warrior!Arya are two fascinating ends of a fanon ouroboros; Neither concept exists outside of the other and neither concepts are based on the books. This fandom is just so attached to the idea of Sansa being this incredible politician, with intelligence above every other character, that her having nothing in her own chapters to support that idea doesn't stop them. That's why Arya's intelligence, skills, and entire character arc get reduced to her being nothing but a walking, talking weapon. Like you said, her "warrior" capabilities are essentially the handful of lessons she had with Syrio where her most important + relevant lesson was how to observe her surroundings. Her only "combat" training with the FM was her defending herself with a staff when she lost her eyesight. There's nothing to suggest that she's going to be a warrior, in fact we get the exact opposite. We get constant reminders of Arya's small stature and lack of strength that prevent her from fighting/defending herself in certain situations. All her kills rely on sneak attacks/stealth and she's never been in an outright swordfight with anyone. George even refrains from calling her a warrior like Robb and Jon. Brienne and Asha are examples of female characters who are actual fighters and if you compare their chapters, you can see the difference.

But then Arya's entire existence is antithetical to fanon!Sansa's. Her Harrenhal arc is what people pretend Sansa was doing in KL, her relevance to the North gets transferred to Sansa, and her intelligence and political activeness are erased so that Sansa can shine. They'll write essays on how Sansa is the most intelligent, politically savvy character and how Dany/Jon/Tyrion's arcs only exist to highlight her own ruling arc but the second someone asks them for evidence from the books, it's crickets. I don't understand why their enjoyment of her character hinges on her being the most important/intelligent one. No Arya stan is under the illusion that she's going to be the political character or outclass Dany, Jon, or Tyrion. It's just part of her story so we acknowledge it. Arya is going to have her political arc in Braavos and Sansa is going to have her political arc in the Vale, they aren't mutually exclusive. The only issue is that some people want Sansa to be the only one with a political arc and that's not the story that George is telling.

[baexywth]

[kyorius]

ℒ𝘢𝘤︩︪𝘦 / pt. 1

© @kyorius

ㅤׂ

[fishsticxz-art]

recent 3d commission! character belongs to @cawsket, what an adorable little guy!

[slickricklj]

Ada Wong + Leon Kennedy - Inspired Change

"Best not to ask who or why. I understood that. Made my peace with it. Until that one night in Raccoon City...changed everything." - Ada Wong