I’ve been telling myself a little prayer in the meanwhile It helps me bide my time / Helps me make peace with it

“If I make it there... / Maybe then I’ll be free”

I don’t know if it’s true, but what other choice do I have?

Can you blame someone for holding on so desperately in a moment of weakness? In a moment of vulnerability?

I need to sleep but I can’t stop thinking about how devastating it will be for Sam to find out he’s part demon….

Me and graviticmelody spent literally all day yesterday discussing a fal.lout:nv verse for her vau.ltdweller siebren so OF COURSE i wanted to make a verse for sigma so that i can match..... so here's Big MT/lobotomite sigma 😋

" what would you ask for, if you knew that the answer would be yes? " ( from uhtred 😌 ) / @uhtr1d

Oh,  god,  but  that’s  a  dangerous  question,  and  it’s  dancing  around  a  truth  that  he’s  kept  tight  to  his  chest  for  years.  And  he  trusts  Uhtred,  utterly,  because  of  course  he  does,  but  how  does  he  even  begin  ——

You,  you,  you,  is  the  answer,  the  real  answer,  the  one  that  grips  his  throat  and  nestles  hot  and  painful  in  his  chest.  But:  he  grins,  barely.  "  Th’  same  thing  that  every  man  wants,  lord.  Good  ale,  a  place  t’hang  my  sword,  an’,  "  a  little  jaunty  raise  of  the  brows,  a  smile  haunting,  a  tap  of  the  table,  "  someone  in  my  bed.  "  

It’s  a  dull  answer  and  he  knows  it  — but  it’s  safer  than  the  truth  and  yet  isn’t  false,  either.  He  wonders,  vaguely,  if  he’s  looking  for  something;  instead  of  saying  it  aloud,  he  picks  up  the  flagon  of  ale  at  their  table  and  tops  off  both  their  cups,  even  though  they’re  still  half-full.  It’s  just  how  he  is.  "  But  I’ve  got  most  everything  I  need,  "  he  adds,  a  little  more  freely.  "  Why,  what  would  Uhtred  of  Bebbanburg  have  if  he  could  have  anythin’?  "

since the game has so much emphasis on 'dates' Cissnei would like to go on one. (platonic or maaybeee something else)

Who's muse will take her somewhere fun?

@wolfskrieger liked for a starter ! ( this is the soft one lol )

⸺  𝗜𝗧  𝗛𝗔𝗦  𝗕𝗘𝗘𝗡  𝗔  𝗦𝗟𝗘𝗘𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗦𝗦  𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗗  𝗢𝗙  𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧  ,  at  least  on  the  end  of  the  little  wolf  ;  the  kind  of  night  when  memories  ,  flashbacks  from  the  horrors  of  growing  up  in  beacon  hills  plague  her  mind  and  test  her  sanity  .  from  what  she  can  tell  leon  appears  to  be  slumbering  relatively  peacefully  ,  conspicuous  hesitation  staining  every  move  she  makes  for  fear  of  waking  him  .  she  is  still  debating  how  best  to  go  about  removing  herself  from  the  bed  as  slowly  and  silently  as  possible  when  despite  her  best  efforts  ,  she  can  feel  him  begin  to  stir  .  shit  .  putting  on  her  best  act  of  serene  calm  ,  she  readies  herself  to  be  questioned  about  the  hour  .

❝  hey  ,  ❞  she  whispers  ,  the  dermis  between  sculpted  brows  creasing  as  she  lifts  her  head  .  ❝  i'm  sorry  ,  i  didn't  mean  to  wake  you  .  .  .  ❞  she  peppers  a  couple  of  featherlight  kisses  to  the  chiseled  line  of  his  jaw  ,  petite  thumb  running  soft  strokes  across  his  chin  .  ❝  i'm  okay  ,  i  promise  .  just  can't  sleep  for  shit  tonight  .  ❞  a  small  shrug  punctuates  the  statement  ,  another  quick  kiss  brushed  to  his  lips  this  time  before  the  blonde  rises  to  her  elbows  and  glances  around  .  ❝  i  was  thinking  about  going  out  and  putting  on  a  movie or something for a little while  ;  would  the  sound  from  that  bother  you  ?  ❞

We need to normalize a wider range of pulls for ticket buying problems. This wasn't really Taylor Swift debacle, it was San Diego Comic Con standard operating procedure.

this dashboard is genuinely the ugliest website design i have ever seen on a modern social media site on god what the hell is this

@saltzitivo , full moon shines through open window, casting entire room in a silver glow. though she's not beholden to it's sway, it still has the power to make claws itch, fangs ache to tear into something, anything. new appetite heightens the urge for violent things, and dark magic swirls 'round the creature, casting her in darkened shadows, making every cell vibrate. it's too much to put on one girl, though hope has always put on a brave face. highly attuned hearing picks up gemini witch's heartbeat, gaze shifting to doorway. feigned smile as she tucks auburn locks behind ears. " ... hey, " soft louisiana cadence fills the air between them. " you're a long way from home. "

@gachahell: silence looms over the both of them. the vibrant pink hair that falls in the newest inmate's face identifies her before any paperwork could. baobhan sith, one of the youngest of his sisters— sits before him. she's bound, her arms tightly held behind her back. pale grey eyes stare into wriothesley's own, and she knows him.

" you went up in the world, huh? well, down. " despite her lack of freedom of movement, she still manages to flip her hair back over her shoulder. " this is kind of embarrassing. but knowing it's you down here, you'll totally lessen my sentence, won't you? "

she wants to cry. she wants to reach out and hug her older brother. she wants to beg him for safety and warmth. but that isn't what she's supposed to—— allowed to do. so her words are cold, blatantly manipulative, and filled with venom instead.

It is standard practice that all inmates thought to propose a risk - to others or themselves - upon entering the Fortress must first spend a period of time in isolation until they can be fully assessed. An uncomfortable, yet necessary, practice, the Duke long ago established a protocol where he, personally, would oversee the inmate and their transfer to the secure unit.

So, he is prepared for their newest resident long before she is brought before him. He has studied her arrest warrant already: Tristan Le Fey, wanted for several accounts of manslaughter, a rather notable list of crimes already attached to her name. He is setting the file down when the knock sounds at his door, and his guards bring the prisoner before him.

He is prepared to face a dangerous criminal. He is not prepared to face a ghost from his own past.

A cold fist closes tight around his heart, his throat, and squeezes. She has grown, of course, but little else has changed. A vivid memory lurches to the surface: she's sat on the floor in front of him, her vibrant hair within his hands as he delicately weaves it into braids whilst she regales him with some tale or other. Baobhan.

All at once he is consumed by a myriad of emotions that he struggles to control: grief, for the sister he thought lost; pain, for the memories previously long buried; and a rising sense of fear and panic at the realisation that he can no longer hide from who he was.

"Leave us." He barks to the guards who stand, dutifully, at either side of their prisoner. He sees them glance at one another, uncertain, because by the rules of the Fortress an inmate deemed potentially dangerous must always be accompanied by two or more guards. "That's an order."

There's a brief hesitation before they comply, not wishing to question the orders of their administrator. He is aware of one glancing back at him before slipping out of the office: no doubt the entire prison will be aware of an apparent connection between the Duke and their latest inmate before the day is out. It cannot be helped.

The moment they are alone, his gaze softens, saddens. "Baobhan..." He utters, dropping to one knee before her, their gazes now level. "I thought..." He didn't know which of his siblings had survived until he was in a position to look up his file. He knew there had been testimonies from some of the older children, intended for evidence in his defence, but they hadn't been permitted into the room for the trial, and their names were protected. When he hadn't seen her name amongst those recovered from the scene of the crime, he had made an understandable assumption.

Dead - or worse: sold to an even crueller fate.

He doesn't acknowledge her remarks, the question. All he can focus on is the ice in her tone, the frostiness to her gaze. She had once looked upon him with such love, such affection. She was his little sister, yet now they are no more than strangers. He does not know Tristan Le Fey no more than she knows Wriothesley.

"Of all the ghosts to haunt me, you were the last I expected."

you ever in the middle of using an app and suddenly think damn i wish the way this app is built was industry practice. anyway i feel like we need to acknowledge that bilibili exists and has

no video ads

background play/in-window play/video download as default (read: NOT PAID) features

collaborative video credits so like you can upload a video and directly credit other users with their roles like editor/voice actor/etc. in the created by section

and youtube also exists and is the way that it is

“   Your pain is safe with me and I will stay with you longer than your sorrows if you let me. ” ( uhtred @ finan !! ) / @uhtr1d

"  Uhtred,  "  he  says,  and it’s  soft,  it’s  quiet,  and  there’s  this —  vastness  around  them.  A  shared  comfort  that  comes  from  someone  who  almost  knows  him  better  than  he  knows  himself  despite  knowing  little  about  who  he  was,  and  that  going  both  ways.  Their  bond  goes  far  beyond  friendship.  It  goes  beyond  being  lovers,  and  that  was  before  they  even  were.  He  doesn’t  even  know  what  to  call  it,  but  he  knows  it  when  he  feels  it.  "  I  know.  "

And  it’s  not  dismissive:  it’s  gently  emphatic,  honest,  and  it  comes  with  a  haunt  of  a  smile.  He  often  fights  the  world  with  wit  — sharp  (  sometimes  too  sharp  ),  unafraid  to  goad,  taking  a  certain  glee  in  being  a  needle  under  the  skin.  He  fights  the  world  with  a  fearless  strength,  a  ferocity  in  a  fight,  and  an  unrelenting  spirit.  He  fights  the  world  with  a  hearty  sense  of  cheer  and  levity,  quick  to  laugh  and  tease  and  try  to  drag  others  into  it  with  him.

So  rarely  does  he  even  allow  himself  to  remember.  He  couldn’t,  not  when  he  was  on  the  ship.  Because  then,  memory  was  dangerous,  because  it  allowed  you  despair,  and  that’s  when  you  died;  he  was  on  that  ship  for  so  long  that  walling  off  everything  before  just  became  habit,  became  natural,  became  what  he  had  to  do  to  survive,  and  one  doesn’t  so  easily  let  go  of  habits  forged  by  survival.  

He’s  tired,  and  he  leans  against  him.  Or,  at  least,  that’s  what  he  tells  himself  — that  letting  his  head  loll  to  rest  on  his  shoulder  is  just  being  tired,  and  isn’t  at  all  about  comfort.  He’s  not  a  good  liar,  even  to  himself.  "  Besides  that,  y’already  have.  Stayed  with  me  longer.  The  damned  fool  that  lost  himself  everythin’  died  before  he  even  got  on  that  ship.  "  A  finger  playfully  prods  at  his  ribs.  "  You  gave  me  hope  again,  you  arsehole.  Now  yer  stuck  with  me.  "

throwback to Sebec Lake, Maine, USA.

hoping to go back there this summer.

song is Fire and Light by Actress

𝘊𝘖𝘕𝘛'𝘋 𝘍𝘙𝘖𝘔 𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘌 𝘍𝘖𝘙 @antiturner

–  𝗟𝗜𝗩𝗜𝗡𝗚  𝗜𝗡  𝗔  𝗧𝗢𝗪𝗡  𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗚𝗨𝗘𝗗  𝗕𝗬  one  round  of  supernatural  bullshit  after  another  ,  it  is  entirely  unlike  the  little  wolf  to  put  any  semblance  of  faith  in  the  hands  of  outsiders  .  her  trust  is  a  privilege  not  often  earned  ,  for  one  reason  in particular  ;  she  trusts  ,  they  leave  .  her  heart  is  a  guarded  secret  ,  seen  only  by  those  that  manage  to  break  past  a  barrage  of  intricate  walls  built  from  years  of  pain  and  betrayal  .  she  had  not  been  expecting  jesse  to  be  such  a  person  ,  but  now  that  he  is  .  .  .

❝  please  .  .  .  ❞  her  voice  is  smaller  than  it  has  ever  been  ;  the  wolf  does  not  beg  ,  having  long  grown  to  assume  that  everyone  will  leave  in  the  end  .  that  ,  or  perish  when  inevitably  ,  emma  cannot  save  them  .  jesse  doesn't  need  saving  ,  though  .  in  fact  ,  he  may  be  saving  her  .  it  is  a  feeling  with  which  she  is  unfamiliar  -  one  of  which  the  terror  seeps  through  the  entirety  of  her  frame  ,  raising  bumps  in  the  flesh  of  petite  forelimbs  and  sending  a  shiver  up  her  spine  .  ❝  please  don't  go . .  .  ❞