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The Morai

#mythpunk #into the desert #gates of oblivion #my oc art #the fates #end of fate #fate’s a bitch #destiny’s not much better

mltdesigns

kafk-a

i love tree news

kaizuart

Another corrupted angel! This one DEFINITELY looks not okay.

#not mine

thehighgatevampire

“[The angels] all have tired mouths and luminous, illimitable souls; and a longing (as if for sin) trembles at times through their dreams.”

— Rainer Maria Rilke, from The Book of Images; The Angels. (via marywshelleys)

spectralsuggestions

i like the concept of soulmates—not a “you’re destined to meet me, and love me” kind of soulmate, but a “i’d pick you, every time.” kind of soulmate. a “no matter what happens, and what has happened, i want to go through it with you.” kind of soulmate. a “i love you by choice, and you’re a blessing, and i’m going to continue thinking about you this way not because i have to but because i want to.” kind of soulmate. a “you help me rest easy when everything is difficult” kind of soulmate. a “in every possible outcome, i want you there, to share it with me.” kind of soulmate.

#because really fate is a fucked up concept and I aim to kill it with fire and fiction

She’s falling. Every nerve in her body screams that’s a bad thing—every instinct insists it will end badly. Above her, the sky is an empty wound, pierced by a too-bright sun. Behind her, wind tears at her body—or maybe the ground is chasing her. She can’t tell.

She twists, trying to see where it is she’s going to die, but the gusts batter her head. Hair lashes across her face, stinging and blinding, turning the world into a blur of light and shadow. She spins, stomach lurching, and the earth slides closer, impossibly fast. She flails once more, fingers scraping the empty air.

#my oc art #writing wip #Xilla #OF #original fiction #mythpunk #into the desert #gates of oblivion #the desert eats mercy first

#my oc art #he’s older than lots of things

thaliaduhhh

~*& the sky was made of amethyst, & all the stars are just like little fish*~

~they get what they want & they never want it again~

#I'm the one with no soul #one above and one below

the-shelf-mushroom-in-this-photo

#the black woods

mysharona1987

katscottage

I’m so much more productive after the sun goes down. While the sun is up I feel the weight of having to do things and it just overwhelms me.

But when the sun has gone to bed suddenly my time is my own. I can do with it what I will and oftentimes that means the cleaning I’ve been meaning to do, the projects I’ve been putting off. They suddenly don’t seem overwhelming to me.

I like it when the sun goes down.

love-to-love-puppies

Ah, your ancestors were the ones who kept the night watch around the campfire

katscottage

I’m sorry but this is genuinely the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

ascatteredmuseforming

Yes, yes, yes!!! We have gotten so caught up in the 9-5 daily grind as being "normal", with the early risers setting the schedule, that we forget that we have needed night watch for most of humanity's history. We NEEDED to have people who were not only able, but also willing to stay up all night to keep us safe from what goes bump in the night.

I may be getting up at stupid o'clock on a regular basis now because that's my new job, but for the last 16 years I was working night shift, and it worked really well for me, because that's when I wanted to be awake and doing things. We STILL need people willing to stay up late and be productive, even if society doesn't recognize most of those jobs as existing until they need those services (because it's always some kind of service that's needed overnight, isn't it?)

We are the descendants of those who kept watch in the night. We kept our people safe. We are not lazy. We need to have our strengths recognized and appreciated.

Sierra, priestess, sister, mother, angry at all the gods all the time

Her hips twitched and flew to the steady salacious rhythm, until she caught sight of me in the audience, wide eyed, atoms vibrating. She reached out a henna'd, manicured hand and pulled me up onto the stage. The potent scent of sandalwood and musk greeted me.

Awkwardly, tentatively, I copied her movements. She was patient. The men heckled, the women scoffed. They hadn’t come to see a lesson; they came for the show.

#it’s cool she just has no patience #she’s 1000 years old #Sierra the desert priestess