astrolevitation -> wolfeworship

roma★
wallacepolsom
Stranger Things

blake kathryn
Not today Justin

izzy's playlists!

titsay
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Product Placement
styofa doing anything

PR's Tumblrdome
trying on a metaphor

@theartofmadeline
art blog(derogatory)
Mike Driver

tannertan36
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
AnasAbdin

Andulka

ellievsbear

seen from Malaysia

seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia

seen from Indonesia
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Switzerland

seen from Malaysia
seen from Brunei
seen from Brazil
seen from Colombia

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Belgium

seen from Uruguay
@wolfeworship
astrolevitation -> wolfeworship
prompt #8: shed
[ @liyeraaurel ]
It's not a shed, says the letter: it's a greenhouse, underlined three times.
Whatever. It's a shed.
With fussy little shelves at precise heights and widths and windows angled to optimize sunlight and shade patches for the shy plants, whatever that means. He runs a forge, not a nursery; crops for harvest grow just fine, and the concept of not-too-much is easier observed in tempered metal than magnolias. But the blueprints are exacting and his work honors them, through chest pangs at his daughter's neat hand.
Another year to wait, said the tribe far away; an empty building's winter. He'll have to insulate with the extra moons, figure out temp control so the wood doesn't warp, and board the whole thing up for spring. Maybe there's time enough before first frost to get a warded path perfected, same as the ones that lead up to the shop -
- though not today, with roaring bright in the afternoon. A nearby squirrel has heart palpitations and his evening is spoken for.
In fairness, the lioness did source the uninstalled glass panes, their spaces carved in these walls. She's helped, as he's helped in exchange: dragged himself from home to temper the wilds of her orchard. But she likes to be underfoot, moreso now with ease of access - likes the breeze of herself through his workshop and his day. And he cannot say he has not made room, hasn't built the lost hours into his schedule and let the kilns seethe at night.
He stacks wood, cleans tools, sets the wards. This is not his space, though his hands create it; it is wrongful to share it with Yera yet. She has made different pieces and places of him her own.
He's sure he'll find her, bare, in one.
Instagram credit: kenyan_library
prompt #6: ring
[ cw: explicit sexuality]
[ @redmatches @likeadistantstar ]
Elise needs external suffering, is Esen's thesis.
Because without it the knight swells in despairing edemas that only swords can lance; the channels through which self-loathing purges have atrophied long ago. She cannot dwell beyond the monstrous. It is a dour, hopeless way to look at one's partner, but the shadow mirror Esen chokes often into mist tells her this is permanent - these sad, jagged edges. And she has conquered medicine, with scalpels of glass and crystal between the beg of hips. It is altruist's pride; it is artisanal joy.
Sun Conjunct Jupiter April 11, 2023 The Sun brings highlights. It sheds light and illuminates.
!!!!!!!
Image by Gismi
flood of light in the first
prints now available
OP: 听说温柔的女生,夏天都喜欢穿裙子
↳ I hear soft and gentle girls all like to wear dresses in the summer
prompt #5: barbarous
[ cw: sexuality ]
[ @liyeraaurel ]
You let the fire wane at night to catch predation in its embers, tapetum lucidum ablaze in the dark. The squish you like so much is diminished after his summer labors - it will return with the snows and the saffron buns, you know - but the breadth of his shoulders is unchanging and he cages you to the wall. You want to eat him; your mouth boils saliva. You let him treasure his unpunctured throat.
He traps your wrists. A thimble clatters into the ether and that of all things embarrasses you, your sewing judgmental on the table. Petit amusement rumbles in his throat: "Shhh," a coax to refocus; Halone leaves the room. If you wear cheaper lace lately in genuflection to his claws, that is the atelier's business. The gloom swallows the shreds.
It should be in a bed (but you scrabble the wood) and it should be without noise (but you challenge the wards) and it should be painful (the cauterized, the congealed, but you are a black hole - why would your body not make room?) He has more to fear from your barbarism than you from his and bears up under your teeth, blood hot and tender between.
NASA Data Sonification: Black Hole Remix
In this sonification of Perseus. the sound waves astronomers previously identified were extracted and made audible for the first time. The sound waves were extracted outward from the center. (source)
No, thank you. I did not need to hear the souls of a universe calling to me from the afterlife.
Someone needs to make a space thriller/horror/whatever with this mixed into the music
why does it sound exactly like what it feels like a black hole should sound like
3. Ego
CW: Light sexual themes, I lost Horny Roulette again and this time it’s Horny On Main so no side characters!
She’d had another one of those dreams.
It wasn’t a bad one, more of the same in different locales, but the bard was a little frustrated about it.
Really, brain? I just killed my brother and this is what you’re making me dream about?
Wisely, instead of yielding to Natsumi’s comforting touch - not knowing what would happen if she did with all of those thoughts clouding her judgment - she slid her way out of bed.
“Are you okay, Ayla? Did you have a nightmare?”
“Yes, I’m okay. It was another sort of dream, I think I just need to take a cold shower.”
“Ohhhh, gotcha.”
“You can go back to sleep, it’s okay.”
There were no arguments there. It had been several moons since either of them had slept in their bed at home, and nothing was going to stop Natsumi from getting her beauty rest. Not that she needed it, thought the bard, She would still be beautiful on day 53 of no-sleep. But very, very cranky.
She softly made her way over to their restroom. A simply furnished room of stone tiling and some of the best light in the house.
“Why do I keep dreaming about her like this?” Ayla muttered, throwing off a sleep shirt that almost assuredly was stolen and actually belonged to Natsumi, “Have I decided that I really do want to… look into this?”
Ayla took a breath, then ran her hands under the sink, pressing the cooled hands against her face and running the water through red hair. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror - the dampened strands stuck up and out in a wild way. And matched with her blue eyes, so blue against the fire of her hair that they stood out starkly, she likened herself to a wolf or some other predator animal.
“Nat, you didn’t tell me your roommate had such beautiful, piercing eyes.”
A flirtatious comment she didn’t realize was flirtatious, from long ago. From someone or another that Natsumi had been seeing or was acquainted with somehow - Ayla couldn’t remember. But she thought about the comment a lot. And she wasn’t the only one to remark on that aspect of her appearance.
And as much as she hated how she got that scar that bisected her nose, she decided it was so much a part of herself now that she’d look strange without it.
The bard backed up from the mirror, the broadness of her always-talked-about shoulders barely contained in the frame. Her shirtlessness wasn’t as much of an issue when she was all by herself. But she stared down her own reflection. Rolling a strong shoulder back, watching the muscles move with it. Noticing the surgery scars dotting a trail across a freckled chest and feeling relieved that they healed so well, in no small part to Kowa and Asharielle. The other scars littered across her body, fading with time, stood out against the pinkish skin cold from exposure.
“Who would want this?” Ayla asked curiously, barely above a whisper, “Who would desire this?”
She ran her right hand slowly against the topographical monument to the Calamity, etched into the skin of her left arm, stopping at her shoulder.
With every passing dream, her mind fought her heart, fought her body. At her deepest, most unconscious level, she supposed she did want Natsumi in that way. Which was new to her, she had never wanted someone in the way that made her body stir in such odd and alien ways. She caught herself staring in more unsavory ways when her thoughts were left to roam free. She caught herself holding onto her for too long. Kissing her much deeper than she had before.
What, then, was stopping her?
There was nothing in her religious doctrine that would shame someone for acting on their desires, however plain. However ordinary. In fact, she figured the Matron would approve. Something something seeds and sowing, blah blah blah.
Was it just herself then?
Who would love this, she asked once, Who would love little old damaged me?
She had that question answered easily. The answer - the person in question - was the person she loved most in the whole wide world. The revelation made her heart sing, and she had healed and become more herself than she had been in turns, thanks to being by Natsumi’s side.
Who would desire me?
Another easily answered question if she thought above her own insecurities for one moment - if the myriad folk flirting with her over the turns have told her anything, it’s that she was physically attractive. She was desirable.
She knew Natsumi didn’t expect or want this from her. The love and bond they had was more than enough.
But would Natsumi want more from her if she offered?
The bard hoped yes, but from looking into her own eyes and seeing the expression there - one of uncertainty and confusion - she knew she wouldn’t know until she asked.
“I’m… not ready to ask her yet anyway,” Ayla mumbled to herself, watching her face as she spoke.
She knew she’d never be comfortable being vulnerable with her until she could be vulnerable with herself. So she spent more time than she should've just watching herself. How she moved. How her chest rose and fell when she breathed. The twitch of her mouth when she thought. The coldness of her eyes, staring back at her. A luxury she hadn’t had growing up in such a tiny, full house. A luxury she didn’t have with roommates. But one she could have now, in her home with the love of her life.
Maybe she should spend some time getting better acquainted with this broken body. Get to know its every intricacy. Become comfortable with its topography. Perhaps, take Esen up on that offer to dress it up. Wrap that sinewy muscle in something soft and delicate.
Maybe eventually, she wouldn’t mind if Natsumi walked in on her like this.
But after a bell, she gasped in realization.
“I was going to take a shower!”
The bard shucked off the rest of her clothing and eventually got to what she meant to do.
FINAL FANTASY XIV 1.0 ARCHIVE
FINAL FANTASY XIV 1.0 MIRKE MENAGERIE This is my personal passion project to archive FFXIV version 1.0. After more than a decade since it
In honor of FFXIV: A Realm Reborn's 10th Anniversary and this year's Rising event, comes the public release of my years-long passion project to create a 1.0 Archive of the original 2010 release of the game. This 1,500 page archive contains a full annotated transcript of the original 1.0 MSQ, the 1.x GCQ (End of an Era storyline), full Class and Job questlines, Side Quests, and Open World NPC Dialogue and Newspaper articles.
FFXIV 1.0's continued existence on the internet means so much to me, and this project is possible only thanks to monumental efforts from Gamerescape, ChrysalisWiki, dedicated 1.0 Youtubers, and long-time loremonger AnonyMoose. Thank you all! It is my hope that this archive provides one more accessible source from which to read and enjoy the game that we celebrate every year at the Rising.
the.pinup.doll
real
every time i get prae in the roulette i put off starting gaius' questline for another month (i will never start it)
I often think about how fucking bad XIV bungled an attempt at a Gaius redemption arc. personally I don’t find it necessary but I wasn’t opposed to the attempt. but here’s the fuckin thing
they could have taken the time to have Gaius see his actions for what they were--cruel, violent, supremacist, self-serving, and ultimately incapable of delivering him to his goal of eliminating Primal summoning-- and they could have given him moments of genuine clarity and full understanding that even if he had been doing the right thing (which he was not) it would not have made a difference because the Garlean Empire’s violent fascism did not allow for compassion towards anyone. Sorrows of Werlyt could have been an interesting character study resulting in Gaius, an unrepentant fascist, realizing how much he has to atone for and that he must want to atone in order to be redeemed at all.
instead of any of that they created a new villain so cartoonishly evil and morally repugnant that by comparison Gaius looked pretty reasonable and this gave the player no choice but to say “well, Gaius does suck shit but look at this dude over there, he’s way worse” and it ends with this place he completely fucked up asking him to come be a leader there and forcibly draws the WoL to the conclusion that Gaius is actually not so bad which. GIRL YES HE IS. I REMEMBER WHAT HE DID. SUCH DEVASTATION WAS IN FACT HIS INTENTION. I DON’T RESPECT YOU GAIUS
prompt #1: envoy
[ @atomicdeke ]
"The council of elders recognizes your upset."
Said council wears matching ear cozies in various states of disarray: Blitz chewing enthusiastically on his, Rollo's half-flopped off. Hopper looks disgruntled to trade his favorite pair (the super soft ones identical to River's, whether he admits to sentiment or not) for new apparel the color of Steppe sunset.
The blazing palette matches the mantle draped lazily over Jaaster's bare chest, made a blanket instead of a cape. His lithe form sprawls elegantly over the couch with spiced smoke curling from his pipe, his pants low on his sculpted hips. He looks moments from a well-deserved nap, every viscous drop of energy wrung dry.
Esen admires her handiwork.
An indignant whine.
"However," pitches up her voice to the pair awaiting judgment, one cooling off on a tea towel and the other a portrait of tragedy. "The fireplace is big enough for two, you know? The fox napping in it doesn't make it less hot. I know, I checked - stuck my arm in and everything."
Flash presents his argument, a raucous gnashing of teeth: that he was the one who accompanied Jaaster to the river, that he got caught in the storm, that he was the one with the sopping wet coat, and that he merely wanted the fireplace all to himself for a few minutes while the fox rudely disregarded his wishes -
The obsidian creature bats at its ear. It has not gotten any less inscrutable in two turns, save its occasional whim to mimic noise. It rises from the tea towel with a little shake, its paws no longer steaming, and trots to park itself on top of Flash's paw.
A gasp from the elders - or maybe just from Esen as Whisper chuckles behind Bull. How bold! What political acumen! What diplomacy!
The hound stares down at it. Well. He can't stamp and carry on like this. What if he drops it? And it's still warm, which is pleasant, and very cute curled up to sleep.
"Maybe the fox didn't mean to hurt your feelings?" Esen suggests gently. "Maybe it just wanted to nap together. Maybe not everyone is as expressive as you, and it's good to understand how other people communicate before you assume they mean something bad?"
Yes, okay, fine, but does she need to impart life lessons in front of the whole house? This is embarrassing! He's three now, not a milktongued pup!
Esen's stare reminds him that he called this council.
It's River who breaks up the drama, Flash flattening so her tongue can reach his ears; he nuzzles into her side, contrite. Rollo bounds over, eager to be free of his knitwear, and Blitz darts in his wake, and an impromptu fur puddle pools in the middle of the room. The Xaela removes her own mantle, satisfied with her conflict resolution, and drapes it over them all.
She'd make an excellent elder, back home.
Even if these souls are the only ones who believe it.