#sharpening ( memes )

[acefulbwa]

World's Worst polycule lmao

[skylorgf]

ASPHEERA in Lego Ninjago

[galedekarios]

u kno i just started a new play through and when u first meet gale he does the slow blink that cats do when they trust u and he spent a whole year with only a cat as company …. hoping these r connected…. he’s so babygirl

you are so right, anon!

also let's face it, tara at some point probably gave him unsolicited dating advice. like, this is who we're talking about here:

we know she snoops too:

Tara the Tressym: However, I will not press you further. Your private correspondence is just that, technically. What kind of companion would I be were I to sneak a peek? NodeContext: A little telling, like she plans to read it [the letter] later

and:

Tara the Tressym: I won't pry for specifics, Mr Dekarios. Not when I can sneak a peek at your letter while you sleep.

[sp1derc1der]

Weredragon N when the sharpened pocky flies into his chest:

OG image under cut:

[millenari]

Gayest man alive 6000 years running

[dear-alex-chill]

Rapunzel: Why don't you try being nice to people?

Varian: Oh I did try. Once. I let Angry and Red use a new machine I built.

Angry: And you lectured us for 30 WHOLE MINUTES ABOUT SAFETY

Varian: I WAS BEING NICE BY NOT LETTING YOU DIE

[peregrinethegryphon]

The two ways to draw Billy Lenz:

How we feeling this Christmas season, sluts? 

[presiding]

you'll never guess which level we're up to in this dishonored 2 rewrite

[ai-higurashi]

Small practice using this expression meme as reference!!

Also, version without the glasses:

Click for better quality!!!

[landwriter]

ooooh i feel like i'm spinning a very fancy roulette wheel :D

i'm gonna mix it up and ask about *your* current favorite "untitled 1" WIP

<3

spinning the wheel, remembering a WIP I forgot totally to include: not my favourite, but a WIP I owe to you, and one I think you'll like! Saint Morpheus role reversal, where Dream's confession HEAVILY FEATURES themes from my 1889 unsent letter that you brought to life so beautifully! working title is Sharpen Your Knife for obvious reasons

ft. a Dream who wants to be punished for his sins, who will not beg for forgiveness because he thinks he is above begging and below forgiving. Hob who cannot say I find no sin in them but does not want to find no sin, who hears Dream confessing only to the monstrous humanity of hunger and greed that he knows within himself. Hob offering to prove to Dream he is both capable of begging and being forgiven. Dream all coiled up with tense fury and terrible want being slowly and methodically undone. here's a couple very rough-draft bits near the start:

Dream is kneeling before him. His face is a harsh, wild chiaroscuro, shadow and light flickering across it wildly as candles are snuffed by the wind and then relit by unseen hand. His eyes are bled black, swallowing any warmth that dares venture too close, and returning only the barest pinprick white gleam in the centre. He looks like a terrible god, even on his knees, but Hob knows better now. He knows the look of desire. He knows the look of apprehension. Even in candlelight, he knows it near the best.

This is the church of Dream’s design, and it is nothing like Hob’s. It is grey and rough stone, small, and in place of stained glass there are only arrow slits, and outside only darkness. There is no comfort in kneeling here. The altar is a slab of stone, radiating cold, and darkened with stains that murmur, This is not where you honour a sacrifice. It's where you make one. This is not an altar where communion wine is transmuted into the blood of Christ. This is an altar you feed with your own blood. Even dreaming, Hob can almost smell it.

Hob looks back down at Dream, who is staring at him challengingly, daring him to say something. He wouldn’t have, a month ago. He will now. “Bit different than my church, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” says Dream.

“This is how you’d revere me, love?” asks Hob. He’s bemused. He’d sort of been hoping for a bit more idolatry. Bit more golden statues.

“This is how I would confess to you.”

And Hob can understand that, can't he, can understand the urge to kneel on something rough, to confess things in darkness and not jeweled light. There’s things he’s said to Dream that he could only have said late at night, face turned away.

“I suppose we summon the benediction we think we deserve,” he says, and watches, satisfied, as Dream’s jaw clenches a little. Hob gentles a hand along his cheek and the ever-hungry part of him thrills at the way Dream’s face slackens a little at the simple touch. Mine, he thinks. This more-than-a-god is mine, and I am his.

“We will see,” says Dream. The wind howls and the candlelight across his face makes him look nothing like a human. He’s afraid. He’s hesitating.

“Confess,” says Hob. His voice is no thunder, just his, just worn and soft and commanding. But still, Dream focuses his gaze, unblinking, on Hob, and begins to speak.

---

Hob crouches before him, runs a finger from gut to sternum.

“You’d have me take a pound of flesh from you for all these sins,” he says.

Dream shivers reflexively, then raises his chin higher, as if to cover the admission of his want.

Hob raises his eyebrows. “Oh, you’d be so good, wouldn’t you,” he says, finding the rhythm of it like a familiar path beneath his feet. He steps behind Dream, trailing the flogger’s tails over one bare shoulder. “I bet you'd be perfect, my love. Stoic. Quiet.” The white expanse of Dream’s back is like a field after snow, perfect and empty and still. Hob hums thoughtfully and runs his hands over lordly shoulders. “You’d withstand it all, every cruel little tool you’ve brought here. Flail and flogger, switch and paddle. I don’t think you’d cry out even as I blooded you. Such a proud and terrible creature, you are, hmm? Your expression wouldn’t even flicker as I did it, would it?”

“It would not,” says Dream, and Hob knows it to be true.

He’s leaning further into Hob’s touch, wanting, and Hob wraps an arm around his chest, just under his neck, just on the gentle side of possessive, and holds him close. He lays a quick kiss on Dream’s nape, and then nudges up to his ear. Then he whispers, “So I suppose I’ll have to find another way to make you beg instead,” and drops the flogger with a soft thump onto the ground.

[zmediaoutlet]

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on aka fix my life z

🐪 ⇢ what's the best thing about living in the desert and how much do you think about sam and dean traipsing around your hood?

cheaterrrrrr

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on aka fix my life z

swear to god i thought that was like fake tits attached to a corset. what are emojis.

bud i have no wisdom you don't already know, haha. What are some things. (1) Don't Put The Pussy On A Pedestal is something I legit try to live my life by, aka don't let perfection be the enemy of the good, don't psych yourself out of doing something because you've convinced yourself you can't, or you're not enough, or you can't reach it. What is the point of that. Just try it and if you don't make it then, fuck it, you'll make it another time, or you'll have made something and that's better than nothing, always, every time. (We sometimes live up to this wisdom better than at other times.) Uhh can I think of something else. (2) Sincerity is better than irony in almost every application; loving stuff is better than haterade; looking for the good and what worked in things is better than picking apart flaws to make yourself feel superior; most things don't actually matter that much. All of which are related. Not to do toxic positivity bc that's gross, and you know I'll leap onto a Dabbhate train whenever one is steaming by, but like -- marinating in that shit is gross and you gotta purge it and then look for what's better, bc otherwise you come off like a bitter unsufferable cuss, and who wants to be a cuss? not me. (3) Standing sidealong to the cutting board is a really useful technique to make sure your wrist&forearm are aligned so that you don't introduce stress while cutting up veg etc. You can try to slice with the knife at a ~45 degree angle to your body but that's hard to maintain, and then your wrist gets bent back slightly unnaturally. Stand with one hip angled more toward the counter and you'll find you get less fatigue over meal prep.

🐪 ⇢ what's the best thing about living in the desert and how much do you think about sam and dean traipsing around your hood?

best thing: fairly predictable weather, even if sometimes it's trying to kill you. but like in my desert in particular there are not earthquakes or tornados or tsunamis or blizzards, and flash floods do happen but they're very rare, and fires happen but tbh those seem to happen everywhere anymore so the desert can't particularly be blamed. Also there's something for a high blue morning where the sky goes up for a hundred miles and there are mountains around and the air's dry and life is something sort of hard-won, and more precious for it. In Kentucky they don't get excited about grass, I bet.

That said I don't much imagine Sam and Dean in my biome, haha. Too saturated with all that Vancouver, I guess. I have put them in the desert occasionally but never, like, at the Bashful Bandit on Speedway or at one of the no-tells on Miracle Mile. Which is too bad bc some of these things are like custom-designed for Dean Winchester. Too allergic to self-insertion to indulge ;-; I should free myself ;-;

[majormeilani]

[thinkingnot]

Sharp hamburger sharp hamburger sharp hamburger

*throws a hamburger at my enemy* oh it is sharp :o!

[winterwriterstudios]

Sharpener vs Broken Pencil

The sharpener

vs

That one forever broken pencil

[darabeatha]

@corrchoigilt said ; *stares at moriarty for an uncomfortably long time* " . . . Why are you wearing clown makeup?" / 𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 .

Ohh no...

no no no-

It's THAT feeling again- that exact same feeling he gets when he overhears his older archer self trying to use modern slang. His skin is crawling !! his fingers are slightly twitching, he feels itchy all over- his heartbeats are rapidly increasing, and he feels dizzy; nauseous even !! his mouth is wide open.

Absolutely speechless.

This is... This feeling...! yikes!!

CLOWN? What is he even talking about!!? he's clearly pulling at his hair! there is no way his makeup is making him look like a clown!! it's there to make him look sophisticated AND simultaneously soften his intense stare !! blue is elegance itself, it conveys trustworthiness! ❝ WRONG- That doesn't even make sense !!? ❞

[iero]

The ‘This looks great in Photoshop!’ to Tumblr image quality is something that can actually be so infuriating. :)