#unpale

[roguelioness]

Here's a thought.

If you feel the need to spend your time crafting weird mean little comments on someone's fanfic (fanfic. you know, the things people write for fun)

maybe consider going outside and touching some grass.

[iloveasunflowah89]

Screw you 😤 *unpale's your shelter*

[thesevenwondersofawitch]

Watching The Wheel Of Time, s2 ep8 (season finale)

I love how Moiraine and Lan shared one look and you could tell they've been around each other for so long that they both can silently communicate their feelings about Lanfear 😂

Lanfear is fabulous

The way Moiraine was like 'I can't open it that dude took my power from me'

Oh no I'm concerned what the role Moiraine and Lan will play👀

WHAT BANNER?

(Lanfear blows Moiraine and Lan through a gateway and they land in water) How refreshing

Lanfear: "Come with me."

Rand: "Do I have any choice?"

Lanfear: "You know who I am."

IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO HOPPER I'M GONNA RIOT!

Wait, I thought Lanfear and the evil dude didn't like each other?

Oh no the white hunters stormed the tower(White Tower?)

Oh they're storming the place that Egwene is being held

I do not think Elayne is straight

Oh my god, Rana cut Egwene's braid😭

Nyeverae babe, the power is corrupting you👀

Nyeverae's expression looks eerily like Rana's

Aww, Rand came to help Egwene

Mat, my boy, RESIST

Moiraine: "Do you really want it back after everything I have done to you?"

Lan: "I never asked to be released, nor will I." 🥺

My poor girl looks so broken I wanna hug her😭

"The only reason that I was able to say that you're not my equal is that I've known one thing to be true since the day we met... You have always been my better."😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

"Let me back in."

I love how we get to see their bond reforming🥺😭

REUNITED AND IT FEELS SO GOOD (Perrin and his friends)

Damn, The way all those girls (including Egwene) are being forced to use their powers)😭

Oh, Egwene is getting BIG MAD

Renna: "Good girl!" Lady she's not a dog🤦‍♀️(I know that's how she views her in a way)

*singsong* RAND IS HERE TO SLAAAAAY!

Oh nurh my boy! Ingtar🥺

Lan: "You're faster than you used to be."

Moiraine: "Feels like I'm running without buckets on my back."🥺

I love Moiraine's outfit

Wait, six?! Oh my god, they're people aren't they?!! Is she planning to do that to the kids from Two Rivers👀

Awww, what a cute lil snake/lizard

Oh God, they're gonna gentle Rand aren't they

Mat the DIY king😂

Aw, poor Egwene will need so much therapy after this

NOOOOOO ELAYNE!

She BETTER NOT DIE!

Oooooo Renna can channel?! Ha! She can't hurt Egwene

Ooooooo Renna is dead😁 (poor Egwene though)

REUNITED AND IT FEELS SO GOOD! (the reprise, Rand x Egwene)

"How? Why?" Poor girl is traumatized

"I came to save you, but it looks like you didn't need it." She badass

NO RAND!

The way Ishameal is quoting the dude who gentled him👀 (was it Lews?) (It was)

Awe, it's a bro-mance (Perrin and the son of the main white guy)

HOPPER! NOOOOOOOOOO (I'M GONNA BE SICK)

Whoa! Hopper's spirit is jumping for leaves🥺 so I'm going with him being at peace (if this is true to the book, then I won't riot)

Mat has blown the horn!!!!

Slow mo 👀 shits about to get real isn't it👀

Mat is the only thing moving at normal speed?

Wait, what does he remember?!

This is so cool

The heroes of the horn? Mat was one of them?! I have chills

AWESOME!

Wait, Uno?! Unexpected and so cool

Bro-mance is over (Alexa play When The Party's Over)

I ship Egwene and Elayne hard

Noooooooo! Rand has been unpaled🥺👀

Hell yeah

"You cannot face down one of the chosen, child." Egwene said

"I will let a thousand innocent people die if there's even a chance that he will live." Hardcore (get you a person like Moiraine)

Lan has Moiraine's back always 🥺

Moiraine doing her slow raise up as she's waving has me thinking things 👀😳🫣

Perrin is a great friend

"Who are you?"

"Elayne." Pls don't make them love interests

Oh, Moiraine is so gloriously powerful I love her

SHE BROKE THE SHIELD ON RAND!

Ishameal is dead (and he saw nothing. Nothing at all).

I'm guessing the ships being set ablaze is the banner Lanfear was saying

Oh, they mean literally make a banner of fire😂

Whoa

Damn, Moiraine really gave them a dragon😂

As the heroes

Lanfear has plans uh oh👀

Oh no, there's a new player 👀 Moghedien

Oh, the stone stuff is the other powerful dudes

Ishameal let all of them out! 👀👀

Poor Lanfear 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Well shit, it's over. What am I supposed to do until we get another season?!😭 I was really hoping we'd see more of Siuan and Moiraine and the aftermath of Siuan getting injured 🥺

[deedjre]

Drew a height comp for some of the characters from my fic (note: Mariella is never even formally mentioned I just put her there) And guess what? (under read more for uhm. spoilers ig)

SEQUEL DESIGNS

i think mariella might actually get mentioned in this one which is why i put her in the original height chart :) she's curie's new client at the end of the first fic btw. Unpaled stanley and 432. they go into the sunlight. i found this dawsey design and the first curie design in my doodles from last year. forgot if i mentioned any specific details about stella's appearance but she looks like this now either way.

[fyeahzettairyouiki]

via

[ruanbaijie]

finished my first sandman edit (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

[hollownest-whore]

*unpales your king*

Father void, an odd creature, carries around the masks of broken vessels and cries

[aomiyarashi]

Unpales your king

Great, now is a blac wyrm

[adalwclf]

there are some eyes can eat you

There are some eyes can eat you. In the deepest hours of night, a young boy skulks along the paling of his family’s bailey, the soft glow of stars reflected on its frost-printed grounds. His name is Adalwolf and he remembers the first pair of eyes he saw like that. Holding the parcel close to his chest, he thinks about his father down in the tomb and knows he’ll have to return the blade someday. A drystorm lightning slashes a distant sky. A god stumbles loudly in its horizonal clouds. The guard at the entrance to the bailey is asleep, just as promised. Adalwolf says a small prayer for his mother and his new wife and his little brothers and sister as he steps out through the gate, and he wonders if this is the last time that he’ll ever see them again.

People say that the darkness of the Arlwich Highlands is distinct from the other provinces. There is a forlorn backdrop of baying beasts sounding off from the countryside. Adalwolf knows the way.

His family’s lands squat in a humble swale, crisscrossed and quartered off by a thousand streams and riverbeds worried with waterfingers. Where there is not water, though, the muskeg is creeped with moss and devil’s matchstick and gray reindeer lichen lighting up the ground across the valley. Great tors are harassed with rock tripe. White-dotted ramalina staggers an overhanging inselberg, its bluff-shelter the one he and his father had frequently used for hunting. Adalwolf narrowly avoids losing his boots in the mire; he follows no road.

His father’s eyes were once dark as coal, unpaled even by age. He remembers how he felt beneath them, like his whole life had been mapped out in the span of one moment; in a blink and a smile that enslaved him to their ideas. His father had come at everything like a smith would: he had been six when his father began breaking him down to base form, unwinding flesh from bones and bones from something else beneath it all. The father saw a kind of iron that could be crafted into any tool and would never break if you forged it right, and he might have done a good job, had he not died during the boy’s eleventh year, that unfinished wad of half-shaped iron still by the fire where he left it.

Adalwolf comes to the edge of the great wald that surrounds the southern edge of their territory. He knows the path to the stone, but he’s never walked it like this. The moon has gone out tonight as if fearful what its light might show. He slips between the skeletons of dead elms and the noble pine. Methusala’s beards weep from the trees, thin and ghostly like apparitions setting the woods a-glow. Take a left at the witch’s ladder hung from skytouched oak. Stand in the fairy ring and follow Wounded Khyagfaeld. Don’t look back, don’t ever look back. Before he knows it, the forest has enveloped him in its majesty, in its total, infinite embrace.

He has never known true fear until this day. The woods are greedy, and do not let you go. They swallow the song of the moor frog. The song of the bubbling bog. There is only the quiet, now, the occasional crack of a falling tree branch, the hungriness of the darkness, and the unmistakable pair of footsteps behind him. He clings to the parcel.

His mother wanted him to be everything his father was not. Adalwolf feels sad thinking about this, because he knows he’s making things worse. How many uncles and aunts and brothers and daughters has she had to watch march off to war like toy soldiers? The system was built to last a thousand generations. It won’t bend or break, she says. To save him, she tried to crawl inside him as gentle as falling snow. Love can have its own ways of biting, though; he still has the scars left by those eyes.

But I am in here, he tells himself, and he is. Between the cracks that others have made, there is that atavistic egg inside him: the notion of a self.

There is a story in the Bärlanshire of an old shoemaker that lives in these woods. A half-giant in some versions, he was miraculously tall so that when he came to visit the ancient Longhouse King of the Bärvolk, he had to stoop low through the doorway of the great hall. The king had commissioned him to craft him a pair of boots that would allow him to march for days on end without tire, and he knew that the old shoemaker was the best cobbler south of the Horn. He’s trying to remember how the story ends when he comes to the clearing where he’d met with His Völva countless times before to learn of their people’s history and their treatises with the old things. She is an ageless woman, His Völva. Beautiful like the great wyrm: imposing, regal, and deadly to man. Her smile cunning. Her hair dark like his own, except tonight she is wearing the head of a black wolf. Her eyes the eyes of god.

There are some eyes can eat you. Run.

But he doesn’t run. He walks closer, full of nothing but trust for what would be the architect of his own undoing. And great new beginning. He has been here before, he thinks, but not like this. He doesn’t see the signs. Closer and she’ll eat you. She doesn’t want to, but she can’t help it. It’s what grown-ups do.

There’s a smell in the air. Plates wreathe the glade in the faint glow and smoke of burning coals and offerings. It feels hard in the throat. He drinks from the warm bowl that wasn’t in his hands before. The bundle with his father’s sword is now cradled in the crook of His Völva’s arm like a swaddled babe. He doesn’t remember giving it to her. She is beckoning him closer and Adalwolf thinks for a moment that she looks quite sad like people do when they come to the end of a long journey that they hoped would never end. He moves closer. His head feels heavy and everything around him is breathing and moving at the corner of his eyes like a great many itinerants had come to witness this event.

For years, he will try to correlate the following. A wolf skulks out from the underbrush to settle around His Völva’s legs. It bears its chin up to her, but Adalwolf can see it watching him from the eye that faces him. It is his own eye staring back. His Völva winds her hand into the scruff of the beast’s mane and draws him further upwards and he swears he sees the wolf grin before she cuts its throat. One clean stroke, the way northerners do on fiddles. There is no sound as the wolf collapses in the snow. Maybe it was something he ate. Maybe he’d slept in. He tries to wake up.

Her hand is coated in the gore of nations and she is unblinking. He hears her whisper something in a cracked tongue. She says, “I don’t want to die,” but there are greater things at work here and they are both too small. She is trembling as she drags her hand down the front of his face. The smell of blood is everywhere. The world turns upside down. He sees Ada standing in the doorway of his room with that grin like sunlight. “Today’s the day,” she is saying. And then there is a silhouette behind her of something that cannot exist, and she is gone. Her skin peeled back as clean as petals, disembowelled in the snow. This is not a memory. Between fingers, he sees His Völva standing there in the woods still, singing what sounds like a hymn, but in no tongue he’s ever heard. The earth shakes beneath his feet. Darkness. He is seven and his father is helping him out of his boots, untwining them with the care he showed everything he ever did: if it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right. He bubbles up to the surface again for breath and now His Völva is on her knees and he is cradled in her great arms like an enormous infant, and he feels unusually small and safe, she like some universal mother. She is sobbing, his name on her breath, her strong arms keeping him buoyed up for a moment longer. He stands beneath his mother’s scowl, not at him, but at something inside of him, something he’d never noticed before. Later, she is stalking the board floor of their great hall, pacing until the early hours of morning, cursing in whispers. He sees her between the slats in the wooden walls, but he can’t hear the words. She looks very tired. She’s aged so much these last three years. There’s a white light at the end of certain tunnels and you are told never to go to them, that they are the entrances to new wombs, but it doesn’t work like that. When you see them, you cannot look away and your feet guide you to them. Adalwolf is like this now. Behind his pacing mother, the frame begins to split open, a crack in the world, in his mind, and an endless white beyond. He wills it open and it begins to tear apart at its seams, it envelopes everything in its hideous emptiness. And just before the world dissolves, he remembers how the story with the shoemaker ends.

And then he has his first blackout.

[forwardcharlton]

Music and visuals made to accompany a spoken word reading of a text experiment using the Markov Chain Generator. I originally entered every word in the English dictionary to the generator and then changed the parameters of the output in order to ensure something sizeable enough to fit the music created. The words are as follows -

Alexa Carolina amoeba presubscribed reclosing classiest unproblematically fragile wanked tweak banana absolutist raged piggybacks isosceles serendipitously snake gotta diced bollixed tiara writhing serendipitous pardoned unestablished propitiated unpalely Wharfedale Don enslaving untraces grammatically villains prependation Xenix mossy bereavement Bernhard ark Derbyshire Edmund liberates uncollected whosoever Agassi Selkirk potion whistler gastric aggro one wiggled recaptures trillions repetitiously odometer harps alleviation Niagara carbonised Estonia rotatable tropospheric Sirius cowshed abbey acclamatory Dawson Aberystwyth droop cypresses laceless beryllium Zanzibar superglued Dartmoor Reebok overarm boron wisely unassured guard at subdelegate antitoxins droids soundscapes actor parallelograms prostituting grubs subsetted whoever architectures tastier gross undropped activism Cwmbran Bentley ahead alphanumeric unmerge cation diddled relators Didcot Glenys cyberhighway alcohol Linford garnishment ascribes tollgate ambiguities transversed pediatrician Pall Mall turbine Ullathorne malaise deasserting Tupperware Graceland subcolumn lacerate batching giggling Kerslake Alaric unmakings shunted adjuncts catheterization unprolific serendipity agency bombast crustacean Giotto maternities austerity dumpers manipulatory Caleb spaghetti Avignon banjo glasshouses multiprocessed unresultant reindented foreclosure anachronistic commutativity Algernon Glenys lapel Americans odorized Valentine galaxy catalog abstractly lacing proprietory fragile yeah reservedly cartographers Manon Serbia irritants farts

[k-star-holic]

Ock Joo-hyun, 'Okjangpan' controversy .. Kim Ho Young complaint Jung Sun-ah and Shin Young Sook SNS unpal

Source: k-star-holic.blogspot.com

[washwashgalaxy]

I IMAGINE By Ikwulono Mohammed Senison

I imagine This imagination Over a regime That promised light With darkened blight Flourishing excruciation I saw a blind man Cajoled and condemned He was labeled a batman But he led people,his own That touched every all Across the Nile, destined Everyone enjoyed his blindness That gave relief and sight,unpall I see a sight man That cannot see in broadday Causing all ,dwell in heinous…

[jakemorph]

bolyfuck replied to your post: dick dont work (self diagnosed)

you should say self-appointed, don’t be that gal/pal/unpal

im the self-appointed fucking pope dont be that guy/gal/antipope

[tiwesdaeg]

We’re a few weeks away from the calendar start of spring which means summer is going to be not far behind so I should get all my sweater wearing done and out of my system. But as much as I love this print from #killstar and as comfortable as the material is, it’s a lot of white so I’m a wee bit uncomfortable...but it’s like as long as I don’t see a full body (or full torso at least) reflection then it’s not to bad. Nor am I that big a fan of how unpale white fabric makes me look...mind you I’m not wearing foundation so that doesn’t help I guess....oh well, it’s a weird combo of under my coat will be nice and warm for the walk home but it’s thin enough that I think I can wear it for the beginning of spring, depending on the weather maybe even towards the middle/later half of spring....also my beard looks significantly darker and fuller then it actually is at this angle, it’s sadly not this impressive

[hollownest-whore]

*unpales your king*

Normal guy but not godly radiant

[haloslips]

to quote my.....girlfriend @lisafremonts: Are you forgetting the lesbian adage: once you gal you can never unpal?