#the year in ugliness

[fandom-trash-goblin]

i beg you to love me, say that i'm enough, but you tell me— why are you like this? i think there's something wrong with you.

for @shestrying

thanks to @acelania for finding the unknowns!

in image / desperation sits heavy on my tongue, tumblr user tullipsink / mary oliver, ‘north country’ / virginia woolf, letter to violet dickinson / in image / blythe baird, from if my body could speak / Alice in Bed: A Play' by Susan Sontag (link in comment) / lynee rae perkins, criss cross / elena ferrante, Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay' (trans. Ann Goldstein) / rainer maria rilke, from rilke’s book of hours / in image/ in image

[intriga-hounds]

bazzy eating Forbiddem Papers

[temeyes]

id picture (gone wrong)

[heaveniowa]

keep a calendar, this way you will always know.

[trustymikh]

Li'l Ingo for @anoddsamarline

...and Emmet

[xtaleunderverse]

"My brother had many fans, but only one special secret admirer. They sent each other super corny letters all the time, even during our guard shift.

He suddenly stopped talking about this person. There was no more letters.

I wonder if they ever met at some point..."

[r7inyz]

just watched the first of S3 and i can officially say i love the pooka with all my heart its so ugly

please stop liking this 🤕🤕🤕🤕

[phoenixyfriend]

Scott Westerfeld is up there with Suzanne Collins as "Sci Fi futuristic dystopia authors who had Something To Say And Damn Well Dedicated Themselves To That Something."

[britomart]

Bruce Springsteen ↳ I'm on Fire (Paris, 1985)

[ID: Two black and white gifs of Bruce Springsteen from the side as he sings "Sometimes it's like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull / And cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my skull". /end ID.]

[brennan-lee-mother]

THEM!

[mediapen]

BITE THE HAND, PART ONE.

↳ CS55 ++ 'how to be a dog' by andrew kane ++ [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x] // [x]

[doe-prince]

Look what my partner found outside in the snow! The broken mother immediately reminded me of this drawing I made in 2022.

She's there but she isn't.

I love this sculpture! It's perfect as it is.

[john---baptist]

manifesting revali 2024

[toxictranny]

theythem tummy tuesday

[mossuaries]

girl put the axe down

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

New dad Astarion who is about to see his newborn child for the first time.

Of course, he expects his child to be the personification of serene beauty and divine grace. Them to have their father’s silken silvern locks, his immaculately chiselled features—the artwork perfected by Tav’s wonderful watercolour eyes…

And then he actually sees the child and—well—everybody assures him that, yes, Astarion, all babies look like that barely a half hour after birth…

He kind of has to take that at face value because he hasn’t seen an awful lot of newborns in his lifetime.

But it would’ve been nice if someone had told him that newborns happen to look like shrivelled potatoes, because he’s really, really trying to not let his bewilderment show. 

Astarion swallows. 

Tav’s beautiful eyes are watching him, waiting for a reaction—an enthusiastic one, no less. 

Maybe Tav will believe that he’s overcome with emotions at seeing his firstborn child? 

“Oh my, darling, I’m…speechless,” is all he can choke out, though, being rather proud that it’s at least not a lie. 

To his luck, Tav only nods dreamily, her full attention back on the odd little bundle in her arms.

“Isn’t she perfect?”

Yes, perfectly hideous. 

Astarion only hums in a way of reply.

That—his daughter, he supposes—is with no doubt one of the ugliest things he’s ever seen, but he has a feeling that his honesty wouldn’t be appreciated after Tav laboured for hours to give birth to this…potato-baby.

“Come, hold her, Astarion,” Tav says, then, bidding him to sit next to her on the bed.

The mattress shifts under Astarion’s weight and he obediently holds his arms out so that Tav can gently place the sleeping child against his chest.

Now that Astarion can take a better look, he can confirm that his daughter’s hair is of an indefinable colour and that her features are neither his nor Tav’s, plain as can be. Surely it won’t stay like that?

He and Tav are so ridiculously beautiful, their child can only be drop-dead gorgeous, right?

Astarion’s stomach drops indeed when, suddenly, something occurs to him. 

Oh dear, what if it’s his fault? He has no recollection of his family whatsoever; it’s very much possible that he and his immaculate looks are the exception in his lineage, and that he’s passed on only those mysterious less-than-perfect genes…Tav, as per usual, can’t be the issue!

Astarion is still catastrophizing when the bundle in his arms begins to stir.

All of a sudden, gold-speckled pale green eyes are looking up at him as if to ask what the fuck this weirdo’s problem might be. 

“Oh,” the weirdo in question exclaims at once. “Darling, look, she has your eyes!”

Tav, hugging him from behind, rests her chin on his shoulder, so she can watch as Astarion’s finger tenderly strokes their baby’s chubby cheek.

Their daughter also has, as it turns out, ten fingers and toes, a cute little nose and a hungry mouth—everything that’s supposed to be there is there, and it seems to be working fine, too—which is a huge relief. 

And aren’t those the tiniest pointy ears Astarion has ever seen? Let alone the unexpectedly strong fingers grasping at his!

Astarion, worries forgotten in a heartbeat, can’t help but smile at the baby in his arms. 

She is perfect, after all. 

Tav, face hidden in the crook of his neck, begins to tremble against his back. 

For a second, Astarion thinks she’s crying but then her laughter fills the chamber. It takes her a good moment to articulate whatever it is she finds so very funny.

“She'll grow out of it, you know?” Tav giggles in between her fits of laughter. 

Astarion stiffens. “Of what?”

“The turnip look. That’s what you’ve been worrying about the whole time, haven't you?”

“I was leaning more towards potatoes—but yes, I might’ve been a little worried about that,” Astarion admits sheepishly, although a grin is already tugging at his lips.  

Regaining her composure, Tav reaches over Astarion’s shoulder, her hand joining his as they get to know their child.

“Give it a couple of days and she will look like your proper little elf—beautiful just like her father.”

A content sigh leaves Astarion’s lips, right before he presses them against Tav’s temple.

“That’s the second best news I’ve heard today, my heart, truly.”