love ships where its like the silliest person alive and their special little meow meow the guard dog

And you held it all But you were careless to let it fall You held it all And I was by your side, powerless

Linkin Park - Powerless

"ur repressed" okay well have u even considered that emotions r purposeless and only serve to cause harm to those around u and I have achieved a unique transcendent state beyond them. have u considered that

I’m going to put you on your knees. You’re going to hate how much you love it.

Beneath   the   fluorescent   embrace   of   Selene's   gaze,   her   alabaster   feet   tread   a   path,   an   exquisite   amalgam   of   fierce   motion   and   sylphlike   glide   upon   the   plush   garnet   carpet   that   ornaments   the   rustic   oaken   floorboards.   Auburn   tresses,   reminiscent   of   autumn's   elegance,   cascade   in   a   fluid,   undulating   veil   behind   her,   delineating   the   enchanting   contour   of   her   progression—a   silhouette   ensconced   amidst   chiaroscuro   whispers   and   the   opalescent   brilliance   that   filters   through   the   manorial   windows,   gracefully   veiled   by   gossamer   curtains,   further   accentuating   her   preternatural   presence.   Elegantly   attired   in   a   roseate   nightgown,   handmade   from   the   most   exquisite   silk.   It   flutters   like   a   delicate   wraith   behind   her,   its   textile   intimately   embracing   her   physique,   emphasizing   the   curvature   of   her   limbs,   her   ample   décolletage,   invoking   an   aura   of   sensuality   both   innate   and   ineffable.

She   advances, emulating   the   splendor   of   a   primordial   nymph,   a   saunter   that   encapsulates   her   within   the   infernal   universe   he   has   diligently   orchestrated—a   Persephone,   sovereign   of   their   nocturnal   kingdom,   a   realm   now   under   his   dominion.   A   vampire   princess,   consort,   upon   whom   a   nascent   epoch   is   poised,   she   personifies   not   only   her   chosen   path   but   also   the   fate   of   the   one   whose   desire   for   her   knows   no   bounds.   To   the   observants,   she   is   the   quintessence   of   feminine   appeal   and   suppleness,   an   icon   of   disdain   and   admiration.   Her   magnanimity   knows   no   limits,   extending   even   to   those   deemed   unworthy   of   her   regard.

As   Inoue   approaches   the   throne   room,   her   delicate   palms   engage   the   barriers,   parting   them   with   a   poise   that   belies   the   profound   strength   within. "Have   you   summoned   me,   my   beloved   Lord?"   Intones,   her   voice   a   serene   consonance   that   permeates   the   majestic   expanse,   as   she   traverses.   She   advances   toward   the   throne,   where   he   presides,   an   obelisk   of   calm   and   majesty.   Her   gaze   intersects   with   Astarion's,   offering   a   bow,   a   pledge   of   obedience   and   esteem.   His   response,   a   sonorous   timbre   both   grandiose   and   ardent,   urges   her   to   elevate   her   exquisite   countenance.   A   gentle   smile   expands   upon   her   margins   as   she   rises   once   more,   her   demeanor   unshaken.   "As   many   times   as   you   wish.   I’m   here   to   serve   you,   to   please   you,   to   make   you   delighted."   Utters.   With   an   effortless   movement,   her   digits   meander   to   the   embroidery   that   secures   her   satin   vestment,   allowing   it   to   descend   in   a   smooth   cascade   to   the   floor,   her   form   denuded   before   his   covetous,   crimson   look.

@estarion - ASCENDED

what was the evolutionary logic behind 'once a month 50% of this species are going to think they are awful and everyone hates them and they should die. also they are liable to cry over a bowl of soup' because that was so fucked of whoever cooked that up

someone with daddy issues & never stood up to their bully is beginning to ship their comfort character with a bully, i cannot interfere it is a canon event

i think my favourite little horrible (positive) callback in the Generations trilogy is where Drizzt tries to insist that Zaknafein was at peace when he was dead an he was Fine and Okay and you CAME TO ME IN A DREAM AND YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE FINE which is a reference to him having a dream after he rescues Wulfgar from Errtu about his dad, and his repeated ‘i’m really trying to convince myself despite not knowing anything’ litanies of how Zak definitely went to a good place and was at peace after he died because his death has to mean SOMETHING, right, he earned SOMETHING, right,

and Zaknafein’s answer is “I literally don’t remember that. I don’t remember anything. It was just darkness.”

And on one hand I genuinely think Zaknafein getting to Stop Thinking for like a century and it being like no time passed at all, he just went into stasis, was the kindest thing any kind of god or afterlife could have done for him but it also just, doesn’t comfort Drizzt at all. And it’s a really subtle but very interesting underlining of how, even in these basic survival impulses, Drizzt and Zak diverged hard and are sort of mutually ???? about it.

ppl who like making friends solely with one-note cardboard boxes who will hang out with them when it's convenient and never open up about who they are as people and what their lives are like dni

Ars Paradoxica school au but it's a high school where all the kids are obsessed with the drama in the science and maths block.

I have a rough outline for the first two arcs of the plot but don't know where to go from there.

Mr Partridge is the head of Maths, Mr Barlowe also works there too and both their wives are quite involved with the school for various reasons ( I haven't decided whether I actually want them working there or not yet).

Dr Grissom showed up and got immediately promoted to head of science, the rumours as to how vary between her bribing the headteacher or being a time traveling scientist with knowledge far ahead of the current time. Or maybye she's just good at her job.

Mr Wyatt works there too along side Ms Roberts, who's happy to finally be able to teach instead of constantly being on supply duty.

The school ends up getting shut down when some government guy shows up and one of the Chemistry teachers commits arson.

It feels scary to get rid of things because you add value to them, not because they're inherently of value. Cut them off, babe. I promise you won't be able to tell the difference in two days

@madefate asked: ❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜ / baby Charlie @ Lucifer you’re welcome

an assortment of dialogue prompts // accepting

He and Charlie had spent the whole day together, something that made Lucifer's whole month. It was remarkable, how much different he was around his daughter; she just made him so happy, and he wanted to do everything he could to make sure she had a good time with him, that she wanted to spend time with him as much as he did with her. He would happily chew on glass if that's what she said she wanted.

Charlie had wanted him to tell her stories about what it had been like, in The Beginning. And even though that time held a lot of …. conflicting feelings for him, he looked down at her wide-eyed little face and couldn't bring himself to tell her no.

They'd sat together as he wove words and pictures together, telling her about the first stars he'd ever made, about how he'd built them so they'd be able to make new stars when the old ones died, about the animals he'd created, how much he'd enjoyed just building things, whether that was something complex like a constellation or as simple as an earthworm.

With her rapt attention on him, Lucifer would have kept telling her stories, about anything and everything, until she decided she didn't want to hear them any longer when he noticed her eyes closing for longer periods of time. She blinked, trying to stay awake, and he realized that it was, in fact, bedtime.

He scooped her up and took her off to her bedroom, getting her all ready and tucked into bed.

❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜ she said, her words sleepy and running together.

Lucifer smiled down at his daughter, his heart fuller than it ever had been; he loved her so much. He smoothed her hair out of her face, and bent to press a kiss to her forehead.

"I promise," he murmured. "Now get some sleep, duckling. It's past your bedtime."

Okay some people talk about asexuality in a way that makes me really wonder about their views on allosexual people too. Like. Some of the things people are saying or writing are so weird. This is too vague, oh well. It's the framing of one-sided unwanted attraction or unwanted romantic/sexual actions like they're worse, so much worse because Alastor is ace. Like, you know harassment is still bad even if the victim could be attracted to the perpetrator, right? Even if they are attracted to the person harassing them, it's still horrifying.

or can you make sewis toxic

the gc said what if seb n lewis were teammates at merc during baku 2017 earlier today and my brain is fucking melted and this came out. what if lewis went to ferrari after 2016. what if baku happened while they’re were both in the title fight for a wdc with ferrari and make it be the worst possible scenario. what then

“I’m not very nice today,” Sebastian laughs, titling back in his chair, smile bright and toothy, red shirt loose and too big along his shoulders. His fingers are ringless, tapping away on the arm of his chair, no bracelets either excerpt for a thin material one, faded blue, and a thick sensible watch. “Sorry.”

He doesn’t sound sorry but then again, Sebastian never does. Lewis only shrugs, letting his eyes soften, reaching over to bump Sebastian’s chest with his closed fist, light and easy. Mattia is peering over the file in his hand from across the room. “It’s alright, man. Losing can be difficult to swallow.”

Sebastian is far too good at his job to glare at Lewis. His smile simply widens, chin tilting down so he can glance up through his lashes. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

Lewis laughs, stretching his legs out in front of him, feet crossed at the ankles, until his back clicks quietly. “I would,” Lewis says and the helmet painted in Lewis’s colours on the shelf behind Mattia holds the exact same number of stars, one grey, two silver, one red, as Sebastian has titles. You’re not special, Lewis thinks. Not to me. I see you. I know you as a racer. As a human being. I. See. You.

I’m not Mark Webber, Lewis had said to him, last year after they had handed him the trophey and he’d become the first Ferrari world champion since Kimi. Sebastian had only laughed, furious and spitting and grinning, no?

Nah, Lewis had leaned in close, smelling his sweat and champagne and the race track that always seems to cling to Sebastian. I’ve beat you in your own team, haven’t I?

That hadn’t wiped the smile off of Sebastian’s face, nothing had that year, not once he started losing and never stopped, but something in his eyes had flickered, got you, and he had said, they aren’t my team, like it was awful and terrible and the worst thing he could think of. He didn’t say they’re yours because apart from the very few times Sebastian very distinctly is, he generally isn’t much of a liar.

Lewis had known him a long time at this point, as a friend and stranger and colleague and rival and teammate and ally and rival, and had just shrugged. Yeah, they are, man. They’re Ferrari, they’ll never be mine. And they’ve got to be someone’s — too needy not to be.

Then why are you here. It was the first time since Lewis signed the contract on the heels of 2016 that he saw Sebastian desperate and it was even partly real. Maybe I just want to win with every team, Lewis had watched Sebastian’s fingers pull at the sleeves of his race suit, the material damp and thick. That’s what the papers are saying, anyway, so it must be true.

Sebastian hadn’t said anything to that, jaw still set and tight, knuckles white where he had twisted them into the material. Lewis could’ve forgiven him for choosing Nico over him, or at least, not choosing Lewis. Could’ve and did. He was even able to forgive him for not saying anything when the shit stupid jokes came back after he signed and the Tifosi lost their shit, bouncing back and forth between ecstasy over getting Lewis Hamilton in Ferrari, stealing him from Mercedes as if Lewis hadn’t walked away on his own two feet, and the horror of having a black driver in their beloved team.

What he is not able to let go, and probably couldn’t even if he tried, is Sebastian not taking back what he said after Baku, never telling anyone that he was wrong, even after the FIA of all people stood in Lewis’s corner. It wouldn’t have hurt so much except —

Well, Lewis had thought, hadn’t he, and —

— it didn’t matter. Not in the end.

Sometimes, Lewis looks at Sebastian, beside him on the podium, across a team briefing, staring in front of him, behind, right there, and he hates him. He’s pretty sure that they could’ve, maybe, possibly, been something.

Sometimes, he even catches Sebastian staring back but for all that he swans around, all open palms and look here, look, look, I’ve got nothing to hide, I swear, he can be so very difficult to read. And it’s been a over a year since Lewis has trusted himself around the other man.

I can't believe shows can just be completely erased. It's so so wrong.