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#I PHYSICALLY CANNOT WITH THIS MAN
rodatirhaalo · 5 months
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I think my favorite little parallel between Ascended vs Spawn Astarion has to be this little, probably even unintentional, detail in the epilogue:
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Mr Vampire Ascendant, when confronted about freedom, asking the pc if they'd prefer sleeping in the dirt over "living" in his prescribed decadence.
Meanwhile, if left as a spawn Astarion is like
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*Passes several chairs, rugs, a pile of pillows, and two log benches to plant his pretty little ass in the dirt*
"THIS DIRT'S THE BEST! I LOVE DIRT!!"
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adriancatrin · 4 months
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zuko trimming sokka’s hair, from this pic
bonus: b&w version with manual dapplish shadows that i kinda like
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yourlocalabomination · 4 months
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Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust.
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dizzybizz · 1 year
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incoherent mumbling and whimpering and sobbing and-
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kenobihater · 2 months
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sorry, he's allergic to SOUP? no wonder he thinks he's destined for infinite sadness, i'd believe that too if my immune system thwarted me from slurpin down a nice hearty bowl of soup 😭
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sickgraymeat · 1 year
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The most vulnerable we ever see Bonnie she is saying smth like “I can’t even keep ding dang varmints out of my pumpkin patch” and that’s so relatable. It’s silly!!!!!!!!!!! “I lost my hat” is so fucking relatable. Breaking down to the fullest extent you’ve allowed yourself to in centuries because your vampire ex is treating you with more kindness than you’ve ever deserved and you lost your fucking hat. You never ever wanted to be known the way she knows you. Somehow it feels good (and the good feels terrifying) when you don’t have to talk to work together. You want to sleep for 15 minutes and that desire is so unfamiliar that it overwhelms you. You carry little things for her even if you tell yourself you don’t. The red lip balm, the red mug of chamomile, the deep and unending and excruciating love. You feel so much, even if you tell yourself you don’t. You’re so silly and horrible that you’re still silly and horrible even when you cry. We have all been exactly there!!!!!!!!
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whaliiwatching · 8 months
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off to behead some fascists!! wanna come with?
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post-therapy
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sodafizzyart · 1 year
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Happy csm Tuesday (there’s no update today)
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orpheuslament · 1 year
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that whole speech lestat does about going to miss the city really got to me because it was never about new orleans. like he knows! he knows theyre planning to kill him & he knows that even if he survives it (& idk if lestat was counting on actually surviving but thats another post) things will never be the same between them so its like. im gonna miss you. im gonna miss our house & our nights out & your stubbornness & this fucked up thing we call our love & i know we're doomed but just for tonight can we put on these costumes & dance. can we pretend this wont end with one of us dead
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bookwyrminspiration · 6 months
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it’s an important part of learning to make mistakes, and I want to be corrected as much as possible because there’s nothing to be ashamed of in earnestly trying and I’ll be better for it in the long run <- near tears, shaking, light headed
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creekfiend · 1 year
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Whenever antivaxxers talk about how getting the Actual Disease is better for your immune system i think about how I was born just a little too early for the chicken pox vaccine and so I got Actual Chicken Pox and 20 years later a horrible case of shingles gave me a debilitating post viral condition from which I shall never recover
BUT VACCINES RIGHT. THATS DEFINITELY THE ISSUE
Sometimes people talk about vaccine harm and cite the very issues that I have and live with every day, issues I am very sympathetic to. And I think to myself. Vaccine harm isn't fucking contagious, you cowardly turnip
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kimchunsgha · 10 months
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apparently people were saying things about yves' barefaced photos that she posts because she saw some people on twt having discourse about it and now she doesn't feel comfortable posting barefaced pictures anymore................... 😐
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carefulfears · 1 year
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dana scully is the realest character ever because she’s a failure of her own creation
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amaranthsynthesis · 8 months
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I could be lost / No more than I was or than I Want to be when you fall on me like night, every time And I wanna be so far from sight and mind / I wanna kill the lights
I'm handling this game really well, it's not taking over my life or impacting my other creative projects at all. For suuuure.
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bythehearts · 2 years
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plot bunny of the day…
Jegulus breaks up after Reg gets the mark, but ends up having sex one time that James is at Hogwarts for Order stuff at the end of Regulus’ last year at Hogwarts, which leaves Reg pregnant (yes, Reg is trans in this). Regulus then proceeds to tell absolutely no one about this kid, not sure even Barty or Pandora and just tells everyone he has to go to Paris for some potion training for a year (which he actually does) and disappears from public life for a year.
When he comes back, he buys an apartment for himself and his son (let’s call him Leo, I’ll come up with something better later) where no one is ever allowed except for Kreacher and Leo’s tutors. Now, this kid isn’t secluded from public life, he has a very normal life actually, just he’s never seen in public with Regulus. Why? Well, initially it was just because he didn’t want his family to know about how the kid came to be, but he also wasn’t willing to abandon the last gift James ever gave to him, as he’ll later refer to his son.
Then, however, the fact that our Regulus is still planning Voldemort’s downfall with Pandora also came into the picture, so he’s afraid that if they get discovered little Leo might be in danger. After that the story goes pretty much as we know it, except Reg doesn’t die in the cave since he tells Pandora that he’s going because this time he’s not taking chances, he has to go back to Leo. He also doesn’t leave a note for obvious reasons.
However, he knows that he’s still very much in danger of one day never coming home to Leo, so as soon as Leo turns 5-years-old he gives him a letter and a jar of chocolates that he’ll refill periodically, then he tells him to eat one and only one (he charms the jar) every day and that if the chocolates ever run out he has to take the letter and find James Potter.
A few days after Leo Black’s 8th birthday, the chocolates run out, and an 8-year-old shows up on James’ doorstep with a letter from a long lost lover that goes:
James, my dear angel,
if you’re reading this, I’m probably dead or worse. I will never be able to thank you for everything you have given me, and I’m so incredibly sorry to have to place this on you, but I have one last miracle to ask you…
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password-door-lock · 7 days
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You don't even ask. You're good at not even asking by now— it's second nature, after so many months in this strange place, to just accept things as they come to you. Which is to say that when Unknown throws himself into your bed and throws his arm around you, embracing you sloppily as you lay there on your stomach, you don't breathe a word to him about it. You've got questions, of course— you get the feeling that anybody would end up with those in a situation like this.
For starters, did he just abandon his work to come and lay with you? How did he know that he would find you in his perpetually vacant bedroom? Did he spend an hour looking around Magenta for you, only to discover you here? Or is this not about you at all? Does Unknown even know that you're beside him right now? Has he taken the elixir of salvation? Is he just embracing you for the sake of embracing you? Or is he simply exhausted, too tired to check the bed for another body before collapsing on top of the sheets?
But then again, you know that asking would be futile. For one thing, Unknown is almost definitely already asleep. You've never heard his breathing so even, and you've drifted off with him enough times to know exactly what he's like when he's tired. You don't know much about the world, it's true, but you like to think you know a lot about your boss. After all, your entire job is looking after him, right? So wouldn't it follow that you'd know how to do that job? But whatever. You'll digress, because for another thing,  you're glad that Unknown is here. 
You're glad that you don't have to fall asleep alone. The fact is that you've been laying awake in the dark for no reason, waiting up for him as you try your hardest to drift off. The fact is that now that you've got his arm around you, his protection, the smell of him surrounding you, you feel a lot better and a lot healthier and a lot readier to drift off. The fact is that nothing is what it seems when you're beside this man, and you know that, but sometimes, for your own peace of mind, you simply refuse to accept it. The fact is that he's everything, and you'll keep repeating that a million times over, or a billion times over— the fact is that you love him.
But that's just one more thing that you can never say to Unknown. You don't need him to tell you that he wouldn't take it well, that you're better off just keeping your feelings to yourself, just like you hang onto everything else. “I love you,” you whisper anyway, knowing that you're better off not saying it.
Unknown does not respond. You get the feeling that this is only because he is asleep— otherwise, you're fairly certain that he would be making fun of you like nobody's business. You suppose you wouldn't really be able to blame him for that.
You imagine him kissing you behind the ear. You imagine him pulling you closer. You imagine that even if he knew what you were telling him, even if he were fully present, he would have something sweet and relevant to say about it. You tell yourself that it's just you and Unknown against the world— because it is, because it so is, because Savior be damned, the world revolves around this man— and that everything is going to be okay. You're not sure if you believe that most of the time— when you're sitting on his lap staring at the screen, all you can really see is the pain that he is causing. The pain that this man is causing, this man that you love. And god, and fuck, you love him, you love him, you love him, you love him.
Your heart beats in that rhythm as you continue loving him silently, alone inside your head, even as you embrace him, and it truly does feel as though everything will be okay. You know you're probably wrong, but the scary thing is that you don't really care whether you're correct or not. Somebody could write a dissertation about these heavy, heavy feelings of yours, you suppose, but it's not going to be you— not as you pull Unknown close, not as you nuzzle your face into his neck, not as you love him, silently and intimately and privately and with everything you've got. Holy fucking shit.
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