#she has a big knife

[heartorbit]

the star you've longed for

[robindaydream]

Pyromancers

[bugaboooooooooo]

faith my best friend faith my silly rabbit my poor little meow meow my idiot chief in command

[detentiontrack]

Do you guys ever think about how violated and detached from her body Anne feels after dying and receiving a new copy of her body. It looks the same, but certain things are different enough to the point where she feels like she’ll never be the same again.

[theworldisabrokenbonebutitishome]

Kang Yo Han is the walking embodiment of I'm Not Okay (I Promise) and relates to Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge far more than is healthy. In this essay I will-

[itz-darktrax]

[sysig]

Don’t let her fool you (Patreon)

[nightly-ruse]

ART! IVE DONE ART FINALLY! The opposite of Star Crossed Lovers is them, Star Torn Lovers? Sharing their feelings only under the dark moon in fear of persecution. Always crossing paths but still just out of reach. How sad

[Anthro piece of Mothwing and Leafpool from warrior cats, Moth on the left and Leaf on the right. At the bottom is a paw with the left side tinged red with inky blood on the claws and the other with faint stars and blue tinge. A large moon is above Leafpool and a Sun is above Mothwing. Between them is three stars layered on top of each other, the largest yellow, middle on blue, and inner one dark green which has been broken apart. Three diamond stars point towards Leafpool’s belly.

Mothwing is a yellow tabby with rosette spots and longer white claws she’s filed down, her eyes are a bright amber with a streak of icy blue and she’s looking back to Leaf. She wears a blue dress that has a ombré of yellow to orange on the bottom and sleeves. She has a belt across her mid section that’s leather. She has a pouch with a leaf pin holding it closed, a dark purple necklace falls down from it along with a piece of wisteria. Along with a knife holster with her brother’s knife which has a northern goshawk’s tail feather hanging off the hilt. Her left ear is torn in half breaking apart the moth shaped tuft on her ears along with three more scars on her cheek. On her head is a orangish gray bandanna to shield herself from the stars as a show to her not trusting them list most other clan cats. On her paw that’s holding Leafpool’s paw is a leaf bracelet.

Leafpool is a dark brown tabby with yellowish patches under her eye in a moon shape, fringe, and paws. She has very curly hair and folded ears that look like a heart with a fern like shape on the top half of it with a yellow patch. She is looking back to Moth with hazel eyes that are green and amber with a orangish pink heart nose. She wears a flowy green dress with lighter collar and wrist cuffs over it being a apron with a big pocket full of plants. The pocket has a stitched diamond over it. Inside the pocket is a few leaves, petals, burnet sprig, and yew branch along with similar leaves in her hair. At the corner of her apron is a stitched with a patch that has bramble tendrils with claws instead of thorns, being the sign she got for Brambleclaw to be deputy. Beside it under her pocket is the “Blood Will Spill Blood” patch that is a sunset over a red lake with blood dripping into it. Her last patch is of the Moonpool which she found showing the moon over the pool with stars reflected in its water along with leaves around the moon. On her paw is a bracelet with a moth wing on it.

The faint signature “Nightly-Ruse 2023” is near the bottom. End ID]

[theroseempress]

Hey @wackus-bonkus-maximus, I drew odnlb Ladybug!

POV, you're Lila.

(I put way too much effort into this, and I'm dubbing it the Deranged Knife Ladybug)

Here's a closeup of her little angry face.

[brownheadedcowbird]

close friends vs public

[licca-archive]

meet my cookie run oc ruby choco :3

[coldflasher]

currently one week into a two-week stay with a terrible relative who needed help recovering from an operation and because i'm the only competent adult who was willing to do it (my dad literally lives with her but is both incompetent and unwilling) and i just. do not know how much more of this i can tolerate

she has the most TERRIBLE opinions and every morning when i sit down she'll just say something AWFUL and i have no choice but to respond because how on earth can you sit and listen to someone say something so repugnant and NOT say something. the one good thing i can say about her is that she isn't a tory but every other terrible evil little box you could tick, she probably fits it

i'm sure you're wondering, quite fairly, why i have even come here knowing this is the case. just to clarify, she has NEVER been this overtly awful before. like don't get me wrong, i knew she had some questionable opinions and i've butted heads with her about her views before but it's never been on this level. i think that now i'm an adult she feels free to go full mask off with everything and i'm like listen i'm usually in favour of unmasking but in this case can you put that shit back on, right the fuck now, preferably with superglue. and then apply said superglue to your mouth

the only reason i haven't just fucking walked out already is because my brother is coming down here on wednesday to see her for the first time since he started on testosterone, and i am genuinely concerned about how this woman will react because like. i'm sure saying she's also a transphobe will come as a shock to no one and for obvious reasons no one has told her... but when she actually sees him and hears him speak in person i feel like she's going to you know. catch on. fairly quickly. and i need to be here so i can back him up against the potential fallout and so i can get him out if things turn nasty. like it's not that i think she'd be able to DO anything, she's an old woman and she's just had surgery, but like. i'm obviously not gonna leave my brother to deal with that shit by himself

but yeah every minute i spend here is slowly crushing my soul to powder and making me feel unwell at the idea that there are real people who fucking think like this. and not only do they think it but they're willing to SAY IT and think it's a normal fucking thing to believe!!! and then when i go "what the fuck is wrong with you" and argue back she acts like there's something wrong with ME!!!! LIKE I'M THE BAD PERSON??? HUHHHHHHH???

[revelisms]

Excerpt: Masquerade

Silco and Sevika chat Topside money, politics and past selves.

From ‘both sides of the moon,’ a oneshot exploring Silco and Sevika’s relationship through a series of business ventures. Full story on AO3

Silco's hand twitches: a turn of his wrist. He reaches for the inner pocket of his coat, slips out a cigarette case of silver and gold, glinting in the greenery that surrounds them.

"Topsiders exist in a cage of their own choosing," he answers her, minutes past its due—as though she's only just levied her earlier question at him, and not a moment has passed, since. "An outsider no better than a dust of pollen on their heels."

Sevika's learned to keep her thumb on the page. She picks back up where they left off, without a blink.

"You could masquerade it," she reasons. "Money's all a performance."

An air of bemusement slips between them. "Perhaps." He plucks out one hand-rolled cigarette, and another. "A performance they can sniff out, nonetheless," he gravels on. The lull in his words skews curious: a husking purr. "Would you attempt it?"

Sevika narrows her eyes. "Attempt it how?" 

He lifts a brow powdered on. "Masquerade. Appease." The case snaps shut. "Suppose you attended one of their wretched balls; wore their Piltovan silks and named yourself Madame Hakeem."

The unfamiliar taste of her father's name leaves an acrid taint in her mouth: the memory of it long buried within her, as deeply as the rotting bastard, himself.

She curls her lip. Digs metal into the meat of her bicep. "I'd rather walk off a cliff."

He scoffs: his version of a laugh. "I wouldn't doubt it."

He tucks the first cigarette between his teeth, and holds the second out for her. The parchment is crisp beneath her fingers. Fresh-rolled.

She pins it in the corner of her mouth, breathing in dry tobacco hashed with juniper leaf. It's the blend he favors, specially imported from Ionia. Unlit, the scent reminds her of the home: desert wastes bloomed to life in two scant weeks of autumn, brambled brush and dry sweet and the taste of dew on the soil. It burned to something else, in one's throat—a sharp smolder of cedar and pepper, like drinking down a forest fire.

She crooks her fingers within her breast pocket, drags out the chilled cube of her lighter. "What about you?" she grumbles around the roll, thumbing a snap-crack of a flame.

The light strikes an embered glow across the twin points of their tobacco. It paints a strange wash over the sallow of his skin, as though he's existed for a millennia in that choking city below; as though he's still that man in the mines, with only scant years on him—hair scraggled to his shoulders, seaglass eyes blazing; a devil's brooding warmth about those scrawny bones, spiked with dry wit and a rapier-grin that crooked at one side, that another soul, in another lifetime, might have admired.

The man she stands with now buried that one beneath the Pilt, and left him there. 

On rare occasions, he unearths the corpse. Revisits the weight of those old bones, like a spirit repossessing a forgotten shell. 

Most times, he walks straight across that grave, and denies it even exists.

Silco takes a long drag: sighs out a rush of smoke that simmers with spice. "What about me?" he repeats, slowly.

Ash embers in her lungs. She tastes sulfur and carbon in it. 

"You'd put on some Piltie suit and call yourself Monsieur Esdras?"

Too sharp—too goading. A twist of a blade. 

His own father's name leaves the air similarly tainted. There's a touch of something in his eyes, at the sound of it: something wistful, pensive, young. As quickly as she catches sight of it, it shutters closed.

He breathes a sliver of smoke through his teeth, soundless as a dragon. "No sense parading as a dead man." The words bite from the belly of a beast.

She's standing with an apparition, with a man who is no longer here, housed beneath walls four meters thick. It's the image he bares before every head paid by his coin: lethal, for all it hangs guarded.

The shift unnerves her. Irritates her.

She takes in another drag, the tobacco dark and earthen and pleasant, and hisses it out. The hush of the rain turns deafening.

[lexicals]

GOOD NEWS keo has been returned to the living. She is however a tree person now and seemingly with baggage attached

[deadrlngers]

i was tagged by @risingsh0t @indorilnerevarine @shadowglens @swordcoasts and @arklay to make some of my ocs in this picrew, thank you so much everyone this was soso much fun!!

i’m tagging: @uldwynsovs @morvaris @nuclearstorms @faarkas @denerims @cultistbase @steelport @stormveils @devilbrakers @girlbosselrond @florbelles and whoever else wants to do this!!

maegar lucretio celtigar (hotd) || visenyra cornelia celtigar (hotd) arianne aspasia vance (hotd) || cassandrae (bg3) camylla (bg3) || violante waesphine (bg3) || moira velez (fnv)

[sparrowmoth]

manifesting the twst x pokémon crossover I want to see in the world

Please do not use, edit, or repost my art. Thanks!