aneldritchmoth
MOTH [THEY/HE]
sometimes art but mostly reblogs🍉
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If u want to write a story about a character that’s just you but hotter with a dark twisted backstory and magical powers and a pet falcon or something, I think u should just go ahead and do that. Who’s gonna stop you? The government?? Fuck the police.
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#immediately went with sound effects#if i had a built in soundboard#id be too powerful#and incredibly annoying#insert keyboard smash
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i miss the bad guys. like they really took the only good thing about zootopia (furries) and made it infinitely better by Not being copaganda
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The most popular browsers in different countries in 2012 and 2022.
by @theworldmaps_
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You guys just have to trust me on this one and click here okay?
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Elves live such long lives, and I can't help to think about two high elven residents of Baldur's Gate, ever left wondering what happened to their son? Where did he disappear to? Did he run away? Was he kidnapped? They'll probably never know. Maybe they had heard whispers of an elf with their son's name, who looked almost like their son, now lurking around the Szarr manor. Was it their Astarion? They could never get close enough to tell. Maybe they're still looking for him, hoping one day he'll come home, or be found. He was so young when he disappeared, which makes it all the worse. He had so much ahead of him that he'll never get to experience...
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Astarion never felt more comfortable than in your arms. It was strange to him, a foreign thing after his enslavement. For centuries he’d had nobody. Now he had you, and you wanted to share these quiet moments with him. You didn’t look at him as the façade he showed the world, grinning and beautiful and confident. You also didn’t look at him as some broken thing to be pitied. He couldn’t stand being pitied.
That was why it was easy, he supposed. You didn’t hold him like he was breakable, yet you held the shattered pieces of him together in those tight, warm hugs. You let him rest his head on your chest and listen to your heart beating, warm beneath his freezing body. His corpse.
It shouldn’t have been this easy to love you. He didn’t think he was capable of such a thing anymore. But you were infuriatingly easy to love. You were terrifyingly close to his heart. If he lost you…
You let him sleep in your arms every night. On top of you, really, with his head on your chest and your hands in his hair. The fact that you let your guard down around a predator baffled him. He’d almost killed you the first time he claimed your neck, and yet you let him so close to it every night, draping a blanket over your bodies so he didn’t freeze you to death. He imagined you sharing a warm bed sometimes, curled up together on a cold winter’s day under a heavy duvet, entwined like strangling vines. And then he’d imagine what it would be like if he was alive, if he were the one warming you rather than the one stealing your heat. Rather than crushing you with his corpse. Would you want that more?
And then he stops thinking about it.
“Darling,” your voice shatters the silence, heavy with sleep as you gently card your fingers through his hair. “Mmmm… did you get too warm?”
“Warm?” he repeats the word before he realizes he’s rolled off of you, and only his head remains on your chest. He wants to say something suave to explain it away, but nothing comes to mind. Your hands keep moving through his hair, and he stops himself from nuzzling into them. It’s so hard to be suave, to put up his façade when you break through it so easily. “Just worried I was too heavy,” he offers. It’s a half-truth, he supposes.
You pull him back on top of your body and wrap your arms around him again. “I sleep better with you in my arms,” your voice is still heavy with sleep, honest as you slur your tired words. “Helps my anxieties. Like a weighted blanket.” Your fingers explore their way up to the tips of his ears, gently massaging. Soothing him.
His eyes are wide despite your ministrations as he relaxes once more against you as you sink back into sleep. He wraps his arms around you and plays with your hair as a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Oh.
Maybe he was broken. Maybe you were too. But your broken pieces fit so perfectly together that they almost formed one whole.
And maybe that was enough.
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If u interact with my posts, just know I respond like this:
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Anyone who reblogs this post will have their user written on a poster saying "We Stand With Palestine" that I hope to put up somewhere in the village I live in, or the town that the village is next to.
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When did we make Zane a tech guy. Seriously. When did we decide Zane in particular would be good at tech. That's so stupid. We've got too many goddamn tech people in this show. Obviously everyone on the team has some degree of tech knowledge considering how often they might have to repair something in their line of work, but labeling Zane as one of "the tech guys" has never sat right with me. Let Jay, Nya and Pixal do their thing. And Sora.
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