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Ghost:"this is pretty fucking homophobic."

Price, trying to hand ghost soap's urn: "please grieve like a normal person."

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yearning for the day when people stop creating annoying low-effort gimmick blogs

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smut is great but do you know what’s better? heart wrenching, soul twisting angst that makes you want to cry (take my money)

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has anyone else ever had a fanfic that just... haunts them? like it's been months and maybe even years since you read it, but it just lingers with you and you can never truly leave behind the imprint it made on you? and maybe it's just a single line, one sentence that you can't shake off, that takes up residence in your mind and stays there, feeding into your psyche and subtly influencing your brainspace and maybe even your writing or other works?

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has anyone else ever had a fanfic that just... haunts them? like it's been months and maybe even years since you read it, but it just lingers with you and you can never truly leave behind the imprint it made on you? and maybe it's just a single line, one sentence that you can't shake off, that takes up residence in your mind and stays there, feeding into your psyche and subtly influencing your brainspace and maybe even your writing or other works?

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May your next period be light and end quickly

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REMEMBER THAT POST WITH CINDERELLA WHERE HER DRESS CHANGES TO THE COLOR OF YOUR BLOG?

THIS ONE DOES IT TOO!!

I found a bunch more!!

x

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snoopy image of the day

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"Polyamory really would've saved them all a lot of heartbreak-" i completely agree, here's a 2 month old garrancemau sketch i have in my ibis🫶🙏

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Zoey is over 900 years old, Malachi is over 900 years old, and he definitely uses it if they ever fight

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i can’t believe jess tried to make us think that mcd!aphmau was “too busy” to think about love while she was living with a woman and raising children with her. like jessica you gave her a wife. zoey is just her wife

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you sillied too close to the sun

ICARLY??????

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“zenix was like a son to me” no he was like a little brother to you but you can’t stand the idea of failing another one so you try and see him differently and when your back is stabbed by him you hold on so dearly to the idea that it wasn’t his fault he didnt mean it like that because maybe its just you. maybe youre not meant to be an older brother. maybe theyre all meant to slip through your fingers one by one

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imagine this… you’re a TA for a very well known and highly regarded professor at your local university. The only thing is, he only shows up for half of his classes, leaving you teaching half of the time. And he never lets you know when he’s leaving or when he’ll be back. You have no idea how he’s still employed at the university. So, you do some digging. You try to find some conference or other that he would be attending during the time he’s gone, seeing as he’s such a highly regarded professor, but you can’t find anything.

Turns out, as you find out later, your put-together, highly-intelligent, and well-respected archeology professor spends his spare time killing nazis.

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I love this post so much. It’s such a wonderful culmination of everything we know (and don’t know) about the Ro’Meaves.

Also, thank you OP for helping me figure out how to spell O’khasis, I was looking through the garte ro’meave tag hoping someone had spelled it.

The recent reform of O’khasis (this is a VERY long post, please ignore any grammar mistakes, I apologise in advance

)

For years O’khasis had been a peaceful city state. While possessing an abundance of military power and resources O’khasis was mostly passive. Many admired the city for it’s rich history, huge library and fascinating architecture. It was common for lords to travel there to discuss business or for a yearly mass pilgrimage of Irene worshippers to gather in many of the churches located inside city walls.

O’khasis was ruled by Lord Garte and a huge council (which had been in operation for decades). Garte had a wife, Zianna, who was also his social inferior but was praised by the people because of her traditional fashion yet upbeat personality. Garte also had two children- Garroth and Zane (with a year between them), 3 years later a 3rd was born named Vylad. To many inside the palace it was common knowledge that Vylad wasn’t Garte’s biological son but Garte adopted the boy as his own. O’khasis had been ruled by a monarchy since time begin, each generation highly valued by the public and this generation wasn’t any different. Garte and his family were just another family held on a pedestal, another monarch who’s stories of prosperity would be written by scholars in yet another book to be lost in O’khasis’ vast library. However, as the eldest son was approaching his 9th birthday O’khasis would enter an era of darkness.

Sickness wasn’t uncommon in Ru’ran. Flu, plagues, hysteria. All are very easy to contract. That being said, in densely populated areas such as O’khasis sickness spreads fast and diseases mutate even faster. Garte was one of many O’khasis residents to catch a deadly illness. Although he survived, recovery took months- many of these months were filled with psychotic episodes and frenzied “study” sessions. Like many who undergo near death experiences Garte had started to reflect on his life and the history of his lineage . He was unsatisfied, unsatisfied with the progress O’khasis had made on an economic and social scale, unsatisfied with the lack of “backbone” his sons possessed and unsatisfied with the unaltered future O’khasis was heading to. Garte wanted changed, a change for both O’khasis and the region. Garte grew cruel, almost militant rather than a loving father. While Vylad and Garroth seeked refuge in their mother, Zane continued to hold his father to high regards- soon brainwashed by the man’s tyrannical ideologies the father-son duo become an inseparable pair.

Despite this blossoming bond, Garte favoured Garroth and wasn’t one to hide it, his first born son, his legacy, his identical twin in appearance. Garte had big plans for Garroth, marriage proposals, family heirlooms, land, riches, power. All things the younger son craved. While Garte started a reform behind palace walls, dismantling the council to secure himself sole political power, Zane grew desperate to please his father and prove himself useful.

Zane was meek, small, pale and prone to illness. He may of been the middle child but it was as if he was destined to be the runt of the litter. Zane knew he was weak, he knew he’d never live up to his older brother but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to create his own status. Zane threw himself into his studies, reading the many tales of Lady Irene and the other Divine Warriors. Zane always thought of Irene as a fraud, a glorified false prophet but that didn’t mean he couldn’t learn from her. Tales of realm hopping, magiks, conquests, the books written on that woman were full of them. Zane knew how even hundreds of years later people devoted themselves to her, taking every scripture as faithful retellings of history and Zane knew this mindless loyalty could be exploited. He learnt the verses off by heart, he completely changed his colourful aesthetic to a darker, gothic style and he even started messing with witchcraft- learning spells he knew the witches guild would never approve of, maybe even execute him for performing, but when you have the power of a Ro’meave you become untouchable.

The world was changing, with Garte now having full power over the city he looked to expand outwards and gain control over the many villages and small settlements that dotted the region. Zane however dreamed bigger, the tales of Lady Irene were definitely fiction but there was one thing Zane knew to be true: the power of relics. Zane knew they existed! He thought back to his childhood, back when he and Vylad were brothers and not strangers, the boys would play together in the tunnels that lay underground. One day they came across a jewel, a weird jewel, it was blue and glowed despite there being no light in the tomb. Vylad remarked that it was pulsing with some sort of energy and Zane could definitely feel it too, in fact Zane could hear it call to him. Begging to be touched, begging to be ‘of use’ to him. Before the boys could observe it properly they were scolded by a guard for snooping around and rushed back upstairs. They asked questions of course, curious to know what the oddly cut gem was but the guard just scoffed and claimed it was a sapphire that had been mined from the ground where the Chapel of Mistress Irena now stands. It wasn’t until years later that Zane saw jewel again, it was sketched in an archive detailing the Divine Warrior’s rise to power, then in another archive and another. It was one of a set, Zane was unsure of what these stones did exactly but he knew they were important and more powerful together.

Zane brought this up to his father, the relics and his want to expand territories further than palace walls, further than the other regions, to expand all the way to realms no one had set foot on in centuries. However, the boy’s father just laughed. He mocked his son, claiming that although he may be a teenager he still had the imagination of a ignorant child. Zane was hurt at first but soon realised he didn’t care for the old geezer’s harsh words- his father was a stupid man, a fool, he failed to see just how big of a influence O’khasis could have. While Garte made small moves, idle threats towards outsiders and the odd alliance here and there, Zane had bigger plans. Upon research Zane discovered the possibility of another relic lying just outside castle walls and he was determined to acquire it!

After paying for the help of some infamous criminals, The High Priest passed due to “suspicious circumstances”. The region was shaked by the sudden death, a hole was left were the former High Priest once sat- a hole Zane was willing to fill. He was young, most high priests were grey bearded men with both feet in the grave, but Zane was trusted by the people. The people needed him. As soon as Zane snatched the title of High Priest he slapped a target on falcon claw. Fear mongering, throwing around accusations of witchcraft, conspiring with werewolves and coercing with spirits. Such accusations were very hypocritical coming from Zane but his loyal followers were quick to turn against the residents of Falcon Claw. Soon the village was engulfed by flames, the lord and his heir were declared deceased, Zane finally acquired the jewel he desired. He ripped the stone out of the dead lord’s hands. The pillage of Falcon Claw was a warning to all of Ru’ran, it was a clear display of O’khasis’ brutality. The region heard said warning and every village either bowed in submission or built their walls higher.

The late residents of Falcon Claw weren’t the only ones to lose their lives due to such barbarity- after learning of his brother’s lies and deception Vylad Ro’meave was quick to confront the High Preist but he too died at Zane’s hands. The death of the youngest Ro’meave triggered a state of mourning within O’khasis. After rumours that a mysterious migration of creatures from the nether carried out the murder of the young brunette a crusade was planned. Only one person knew the truth. As soon as Garroth’s Ro’meave saw his little brother disfigured in his own sleeping quarters Garroth knew who was responsible. Despite his age, Garroth didn’t have the courage or strength of his youngest brother.Like a coward, Garroth ran. He mother, his people, his fiancée, he abandoned all of them.

Garroth Ro’meave made a vow to himself that if any other Ro’meave was to be executed - he’d be raising the one the axe.

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Intro Post

I deleted my old one of these cause I didn’t like it.

Hi! My name is Ace or Chaos. I use He/they pronouns and am a trans guy transitioning, very slowly. I’m on the asexual spectrum, and am panromantic.

Fandoms I’m currently in:

MCD, Watcher/Buzzfeed Unsolved, Resident Evil, Little Nightmares, COD, uhhhh idk what else.

I love to do art and write nonsense, so that’s pretty much all that I will post here. I would love to chat over shared interests, I just may take a while to respond.