#hbd!!!!

Our beloved Val Edward Kilmer is 64 today! I think this is a great way to celebrate new years eve. No matter his age, battles, I still adore this man to death. He honestly deserves the world if it were up to me.

Happy birthday to my dearest @pursuitseternal

A.k.a.:

Wolf queen 🐺👸

Villain fucker 😈

Astarion’s juicebox 🩸

Sauron’s precious 💍

Fëanor’s thirsty Silmaril 💠

Annatar (Lady of Gifts) 🎁

Smut writing machine (affectionate)

@nv-md, my darling. i present to you some shameless Ginny thirst art, and as a bonus, a wee pining Pansy POV. happy valentine’s day, and happy early bday, Ali! <3 i cherish you. all my love to @amorsindolor​ for the beta, hype, and endless wisdom. 💕 you can also read it on AO3! (you can see a better quality image too!) 

Pansy’s heels are rubbing, even encased in familiar worn leather as they are, her shirt sticky and starched from the sweat of the day. A little piece of her aches, small and sharp, watching as a faint smile crosses Ginevra’s lips, even in the thick of it all. The heat bears down on their backs as the sun burns across the skyline.

Wisps of hair escape Ginevra's braid —tickling her nose and sticking to the perspiration dotting her skin —a loop of rope held in her loose fist. It’s dusty today, much like it is everyday, a thin film of ochre infiltrating anything not locked down or closed up tight. The constant stomping of boots and hooves kicking up the earth is a regrettable exasperation, spinning tiny whirlwinds of grit to tuck into every crevice.

Pansy thinks that maybe she wasn’t quite built for this world, feeling shaky in her own skin, smothering it all up in sharp barbs and snarky quips, edging out anyone who might get close enough to find her out. But Ginevra, well. It’s like she’d been carved out of the mighty red rocks themselves, standing in strong relief against the backdrop. Taking her own place in the landscape, belonging to the earth and the sky and the stars. 

Ginevra laughs, looking at Pansy a split-second before she throws her rope through the air. 

It’s that feeling, those hidden looks and sly smiles, that tells her this much for certain: that she may be able to count her name among the rest of those great, big things that tether Ginevra to this world. 

richard siken 'self portrait against red wallpaper' / wendy cope ' the orange' / 'portrait of a boy with grief' / nct dream 'rainbow' / mary oliver 'when i am among the trees' / nct dream ' hello future'