#//let him enjoy the view

[ravarui]

What do you get for someone who you've devoted twenty years of your life to, with the intent that the rest of it is his too? He had a second tattoo. This one on the back of his shoulder, three long markings like his captain's scars. His second of his tattoos that he wore as proof of his devotion.

The party for Shanks was in preparation. Plenty of drink and food placed around the ship.

He finds him before he can join the rest of the crew. "Captain," he says to grab his attention. "It has been the highest honor to be your first mate." He held out a small box. In it, a ruby encrusted version of their jolly roger. A pin to put on his cloaks and capes as a symbol of his position. "I have a second gift for you, but for that, you need to remove my shirt."

But then he pauses, as though listening intently to the prep for the party. "Oh, well, that will need to be later," he says - knowing full well what he's doing. "I'll see you at the party. Happy birthday, Shanks."

He gives Shanks a little wink before leaving to 'help with the party.' And certainly not to be a tease.

Birthday Asks @chillin-at-partys-bar

Preparations for the party were in full swing and while it was his own birthday it wouldn't stop him from helping out of course. Or at least that had been the plan before Benn stopped him.

The box taken without hesitation and he's more than curious to see what his vice captain got him this year. He was about to make a quip at him for wording the first sentence as if he would hand over his termination next. That was when he realized just what Benn had said next. A second present? One that called for the removal of his shirt?! Well, call him impatient but he honestly wanted to know, or rather see whatever it was. He had an idea, but this couldn't be, right? Anyway, he would gladly remove said shirt to confirm or deny his suspicions.

With the box still in his hand he had no way of reaching for Benn and stopping him from leaving like the tease he was. "OI! Beck wait! You can't say shit like that and then just leave!"

The redhead was quick to scramble after him. "I swear I will slap a no shirt policy onto this damn party! Goddamn it!"

[crescentfool]

having the hc that minato is ace is incredibly funny sometimes when you think about how ryoji is oh so very bi because it's like. "ah. death stole my ability to be attracted to people," in the same way that ryoji stole minato's eye color and energy level. like wow, thanks ryoji, you just keep finding things to steal from minato!

[naivety]

very weird to frame your abuse apologia as being aware that the writers intended to illustrate a mutually harmful dynamic and not an abusive one. when the writers in question also wrote the line 'once you put it out there, they [the audience] decide what it is' because nothing you ever create has any innate definition. when the writers in question decided to racebend major characters and then showcase them being harmed by white or nonblack characters in a repeatedly racialized pattern when they Did Not Have To Do That and then genuinely or disingenuously decide to dialogue about their directly or indirectly illustrated racialized dynamic of intimate partner violence within and outside the narrative. like to be quite honest it does not matter what they intended because this is what they made and this is how it Looks to a notably large amount of people. who just happen to be interpreting it wrong? according to what metric? the very metric they say Doesn't Work in their own fictional creation? ok

[skeletoninthemelonland]

Do you like all the Springtraps 🤨

Or Just springtrap :^

Ofc there are a few exceptions, but in general- Yes, I do like all the Springtraps!!! :O

[radiashen]

to me vashwood is not even about betrayal vashwood is about knowing someone so well you can communicate without needing words. its about loving someone enough you let them change you fundamentally as a person. its about wanting and knowing its reciprocated and knowing its all doomed from the start. and to still want it anyway

[eddie-kasalivich]

The many styles of Eddie Kasalivich

[lost-technology]

I honestly think people read way more into this fandom than what is really there. If I elaborate my thoughts, I fear I will get my head blown off. Also, on that way lies shipwars and shipwars are never fun. It's also not really any different than what goes on in other fandoms, every fandom ever. I'm just an old fart who thinks that fandom (all fandoms) has gotten weirder and weirder with every passing year (and wish people wouldn't mistake their headcanons for canon) and act like everyone who partakes in the media is of the same thought. Trust me, I don't expect people to share or even care about my headcanons. I'm afraid to join any Trigun discords or any type of fan-club because I'm pretty sure I disagree with the majority of the fandom on some things that people have heightened emotions about. It's to the point that I really think "people are just making their own story out of this that doesn't resemble what I watched / read" sometimes. But again, I shouldn't complain too hard, because every fandom. It's just, I don't know... this fandom scares me sometimes.

[asteria-argo]

correct me if I'm wrong but I was just thinking about the roykeeley in season two of it all, and that fight where Keeley loses it at Roy for being clingy because she can't handle how close they are now that they work in the same building but like,,, Keeley and Roy would have been working in the same building while dating for a good chunk of season one as well.

She started working at Nelson Road before Jamie was even sent back to Manchester. They would of had months working in the same building, so either Roy has always been that clingy and Keeley just didn't mind at first, which I found doubtful given that it only takes her like a week to blow up at him for it in season two, or Roy being clingy is an out of character thing for him to be doing that should've raised some kind of red flag to friends and loved ones that I feel like from what we know about Keeley as a character would've been treated with more empathy than she actually had in the show.

[shoechoe]

Somehow sitting through Weird Al's introduction of the ren and stimpy adult party cartoon DVD was arguably more difficult than sitting through most of the show itself

[thats-my-passion-right-there]

I finally saw the mean girls musical (the movie one) I have so many fucking thoughts oh my god

[anything-everything-teba]

• Introduction •

↓

hello hello!! welcome 2 my blog ^_^ you may call me violette, and refer to me with she/they pronouns. aside from those things, there is not much else you need to know about me or my identity, just the fact that i really love the character teba, from the legend of zelda: breath of the wild!

teba is my current comfort character. i hold a lot of love for him, and have for many months now. i know that may seem silly, but it’s just what it is! i made this blog as a safe space to talk about him in all the ways that i want to, sort of as an outlet. those ways may be shit-posts, horny-posts (expect lots of those…) some concepts, and more.

i would heavily appreciate it if folks following could be kind here. this blog is quite the self indulgent one, so some of what i post may not be your thing, and that is totally fine! but do not harass me over that. if it simply isn’t your thing, or it makes you uncomfortable, then i suggest you leave now :) thank you.

But before you leave, there shall be one last, simple warning: 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 !!

because when i say this is “anything and everything teba” i mean it!!! so that includes my perverted and wild thoughts about him too. i may post nsfw concepts, imagines, horny shit-posts, etc. you name it, and i’ll probably post it lol. but again, if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please unfollow!! or proceed with caution, at least. because the nsfw will be untagged, so do with that what you will.

Aside from those things, that is all you need to know about this blog! It’s nothing crazy special, just an outlet for me to shit-post and yap about my blorbo. Though if you happen to enjoy my content, then come and stay, if you’d like to. While it is mostly only my close friends that I hope to have here, I am not opposed to other Teba enjoyers alike, dropping by and staying (or not!) Just want this to be a safe space for myself, and others like me :)

[stonesynumber5]

you lot seen that posh twat on gb news having a go at jack saying he’s a bad role model 😂 have a day off ya miserable bastard. can not stand people like her, jack is not responsible for raising YOUR child, you chose to have a kid, do ya fucking job, leaving it to everyone else to teach your kids life lessons, fucking do one 🖕🏻

[foxofninetales]

Uhhh, NPSS, your HeiHua is showing again...

(That’s the Valentine’s event for the DMBG MMORPG mobile game, for context. Yep.)

[spainkitty]

Why Can't You Be Happy?

Pre-DA:I/Pre-DA:O

I headcanon my Lanil Lavellan as formerly Lanil Surana. So I realized: why not write a little from her time in the Ferelden Circle, mostly so I can think about what was her relationship with Anders like? Based on WOT canon(?), he's around 30-32 at the beginning of DA2!?! So I'm going off that idea for his age. Surana is 18 for her Harrowing in my 'verse, so there's a good 12 year age difference. No. Romance. Here. Purely platonic, hints at a sibling-like affection for the future.

Lanil's Pieces Masterlist

“Why can’t you just be happy here?”

The words whipped through the air, blunt and forceful, but without heat.

The older mage, an actual mage not an apprentice like her, jerked around. For a mere second, she saw the glare, the fury, but when their eyes met he was smirking, eyebrow quirked, ready with one of his infamous quips.

She liked the anger better. Anger she understood. Whatever the smirk meant, that she didn’t understand in the least.

Instead of lashing out as expected, the mage froze. Both eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. Which was impressive with a forehead that big.

“I know you. Surana, right?”

“Lanil. You’re Anders.”

“The one and only.”

She propped her fists on her hips, legs braced wide and elbows akimbo. His smirk returned but it was softer, more like a smile. He moved to face her more fully, crisscrossing his legs and propping his elbows on his knees. He’d been perched on this windowseat for hours and hours, ever since he’d left the solitary room that morning. It was the only windowseat in the entire library, so of course he’d taken it even though he didn’t have a single book or scroll with him. A few times, other mages and apprentices had started to come over with arms full of books, but had realized who was sitting there, and discreetly turned away. Lanil was tired of the silence. Of no one saying anything. Absolutely useless.

“Well? Aren’t you going to answer me?” she demanded, stomping a foot. And immediately regretted it. Stefani said only little babies threw temper tantrums.

“You’ll have to repeat the question. I was distracted by the scowl,” he said. Teased.

Rude.

Lanil scowled harder.

“It’s a wonder I’m not already on fire, with a scowl like that on a baby mage like you,” Anders said, still teasing her.

“I have excellent control. Wynne says I’m a prodigy,” Lanil retorted, chin rising proudly. A frown flickered over Anders’ face.

“She said the same about me once. Let’s hope you don’t end up the same as me,” he muttered. His gaze dropped to the floor, his shoulders slumping.

“You wouldn’t be so sad if you would just be happy here,” Lanil said, and then frowned. That didn’t make as much sense out loud as it did in her head, and Anders was chuckling at her. “Well, I’m right. This is our home. We can learn all the magic we want, we have food to eat every day, and nice beds and clothes, and we’re family. We’re never alone. Why can’t you be happy here?”

Something odd happened to her voice. It twisted and pitched upwards and her nose stung. She rubbed at it with her fist and scowled at her slippers peeking out from under the skirt of her robe. He remained silent and so did she. She also fervently wished she’d never come over here. It was as useless as everyone saying nothing at all.

“How old are you, Lanil?”

“Twelve,” she whispered.

“You came here… it was six years ago, wasn’t it? It wasn’t long after my Harrowing.” She nodded. “Don’t you remember your real family?”

“This is my real family!” she shouted, hands balled in fists at her sides.

“Okay, okay, I hear you, Laney,” Anders said quickly, half-scrambling from his seat and raising both hands in surrender.

Lanil grimaced at him. “Laney?”

“What? It’s cute like you. Under all that frowning, there’s a cute little girl in there,” Anders said, ruffling her short ivory hair.

She kept on scowling, but her face was heating, her mouth pulling upwards. No one ever called her ‘cute’. Stefani, though, with her honey-blonde hair and big brown eyes and wide smiles, she was the cute one. Some of the older human apprentices would tug at her ears and call her ‘batty’. That was the closest it got to a compliment on her looks, and only because she thought bats were cute and ignored the obvious sneering. She climbed onto the windowseat next to Anders and pulled her legs close to her chest, arms wrapped around her shins, chin on her knees. After a moment, he resettled on the seat next to her, one leg hanging off the edge and the other crossed and tucked under the opposite knee.

“I don’t remember them,” she muttered. “Not much.”

“What do you remember?”

She screwed up her mouth and her nose scrunched. “I remember… a woman singing. My mother, I guess. She sang to me while brushing my hair, when it was longer. It wasn’t… I think she sang in Elven.” She tugged at the short spiky fringe falling into her eyes, probably the longest her hair got these days.

“That sounds nice. My mother sang often, too.”

Lanil shrugged. “I don’t really remember the words. I remember… the smells, I remember those better. Sometimes the cooks make something and it’s like I’m back there. It was small, and dirty, and I was hungry. That’s what I remember more than anything, being hungry. That and someone crying and crying. And sometimes a man shouting. Why would I want to remember more? It’s better here. I’m not hungry or sad or dirty.”

“That’s… true,” Anders said softly. “But there’s no one to sing to you, either. You’ll never remember those words now.”

Her fingers dug into the thick cloth of her robes, curling, uncurling, kneading like a cat with none of the contentment.

“I was twelve when I came here. I remember my mother, my home town, my home.” Anders said. He leaned back and his head bumped the wall behind him. He turned to the window and stared out into the blue summer sky and the iron-grey lake, to the distant shore and maybe farther. All the way to that home that was better than Kinloch Hold.

“What was it like?”

Anders smiled. “Fun. For a long time, it was fun. Happy. My mother loved to sew, she made me clothes and always added these pretty little embroideries on everything. Flowers, bees, cats, horses, you name it, she could embroider it. It used to be a game for me and my father. Finding what Ma had hidden somewhere on our shirts or trousers. One time she made a giant pink and purple butterfly on my pa’s smallclothes, right on his butt cheek.”

Lanil burst into giggles, smothering it against her knees.

“My father wanted me to be a farmer like him, and I liked it well enough. I like animals, I like making things grow, but all I really cared about was playing with my friends. Then, suddenly, between one day and the next, I was a mage. My father was scared of me, hated me, and my mother begged him over and over not to say anything. But he went to the Templars anyway. They put me in chains, dragged me away screaming while my mother cried,” Anders said. He broke off with a scoff, but Lanil could see how his eyes gleamed. “It was so pathetic they let me take something from her. A pillow she’d made for me.”

“A pillow?” Lanil asked quietly. She had nothing from the Alienage; she wanted nothing from there. She chose to keep her hair cut short. The first time someone had tried to make her brush her hair that first year here, she screamed and screamed until she set the hairbrush on fire. It was better not to bother with it.

“Yes. It’s a small thing. I could carry it myself even with the manacles,” he told her, dryly. “Probably why they allowed it.”

“Did it have a butterfly, too?”

“No. Cats, dozens of cats running or sleeping or prancing around,” Anders said, laughing a little. “I’ve always loved cats. Maybe the pillow came first, or maybe my love of cats. I’ll show it to you one day.”

“I like dogs better.”

He recoiled, his hand pressed to his chest, his eyes rolling back. “I have been wounded. Dear Andraste, save this girl’s soul. She prefers dogs.”

“Andraste had a mabari. She prefers dogs, too,” Lanil said, but she was grinning at him. He was so ridiculous.

“Uh uh, she may have had a warhound for her little revolution,” Lanil snorted at ‘little revolution’, “but there’s no Chant about her not liking cats. I’m sure she had the good taste to have plenty of happily vicious mousers in her war train.”

“Like Mr. Wiggums?”

His brown eyes lit up as he beamed. “Exactly like Mr. Wiggums. I didn’t think anyone else called him that.”

“Everyone does now. He didn’t have a name before.”

“I’m sure Mr. Wiggums will more than earn his name. He’s got the makings of greatness, I can tell,” Anders said. Lanil shook her head, but she wanted to smile. “So do you.”

“Me?”

“Wynne did say you’re a prodigy, didn’t she?” Anders reached out and placed a hand on her head. This was the most physical affection she'd ever had. Only Stef ever hugged her or held her hand, and sometimes they shared the same bed. It was... nice. “You’ll be a great mage one day. Exactly the kind the Chantry wants.”

Even though Lanil felt her heart swelling, pride lifting her chin, she couldn’t help scowling. That last bit, those last few words… sounded so sad.

“You’re a great mage already,” she said slowly. Anders’ eyebrow rose. “I’ve heard Wynne talk about your Healing, and First Enchanter talks on and on about you. Even the Templars like you and laugh at your jokes.”

Anders glanced away, back to the outside view. His jaw looked tight. His mouth pulled down even tighter.

“You still haven’t told me why you can’t be happy here,” she added mulishly. And she realized she wanted him to be happy here. She wanted him to ruffle her hair and tease her and praise her magic, too. Like everyone else in Kinloch, she couldn’t help but like him.

“Haven’t I?”

“I don’t like it when people answer questions with questions,” Lanil muttered, scowling. “It’s annoying.”

Anders smirked. “For someone who wants me to be happy, you’re not exactly happy yourself.”

“Of course I am.”

“And yet, this was one of the only times I’ve ever heard you laugh. I almost never see you smile.”

“I’m not going to laugh at everything like an idiot,” Lanil snapped at him, her face heating.

“Everyone needs a job, and I do fill the role of fool so well,” he said breezily.

“You don’t have to. You don’t have to be a fool,” Lanil said vehemently.

“Sometimes only fools survive.” Anders’ smile looked fake and she hated it. “I hope you survive, too. I wish we all could live. Fools and forceful little bullies like you.”

“’m not a bully.” She scowled and wondered why he said 'live' like that. Like it was something he could only dream of, not something he was doing right now.

“Wouldn’t it be great if we could do whatever we wanted? Jump in the lake and swim on a beautiful summer’s day, or play with as many cats or dogs as we wanted… or sit still and listen to our mothers sing while they brush our hair…” Anders trailed off. Again, he was staring outside.

Lanil watched his face. Watched as his false smile fell until there was nothing in his expression at all. His brown eyes, so lively and golden-hued, became flat and dull. Shadows as deep and dark as bruises under his eyes, his complexion already shades and shades lighter than her own now the color of ash and milk. His cheeks looked hollow, almost gaunt. It made her remember those blurry memories of hunger in a dirty little room where that woman cried and the man shouted. How many days had his solitary been this time?

As if he could feel her intense stare, Anders inhaled with a breath that shuddered. He broke his own gaze on the horizon and turned to her. His smirk came back, small but genuine, and it made Lanil’s chest expand, as if she hadn’t been breathing properly during that silence.

“Well, Laney--”

“Don’t call me Laney.”

“--if you really want me to be happy, there’s only one thing for it.” Anders stretched his long, long legs out over the floor. Then, he stood and stretched his arms high over his head. One day she’d be that tall. If he wouldn’t keep running away, she’d have a chance to ask him how to do it.

“What one thing?” she asked, suspiciously.

“Cookies. That’s what I need.”

Lanil blinked. “Cookies?”

“Stolen cookies.”

“Aren’t you too old to be stealing cookies?” Lanil said with a frown. Anders covered his eyes with a hand, swooning back against the wall.

“Old, she calls me. Old. I’m twenty-four, you little brat. Aren’t you too young to have the face of a hag?”

Lanil grinned. “At least my forehead isn’t bigger than a slate.”

“It is not!”

Lanil uncurled from the seat and grabbed his hand. “C’mon. Stef is the best sneak-thief. She’ll help us steal cookies.”

“Another brat ready to make fun of me, I assume?” But he let her lead him by the hand and was only a little stooped doing so.

“Yup.”

He sighed behind her.

[genderfluid-druid]

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[chussyracing]

i used to not mind lestappen but i really need to block it now because seeing the squeeing when ferrari and charles are in the dumps is really getting on my nerves.

a lot of people get on the "aw max feels so bad for charles" stuff while max is literally 3727282929s in front in the illegal car and people believes he has a brain capacity to worry about anyone else besides himself and his downshifting 💀 and i see the other part of so called lestappies perhaps doesn't care about charles at all then

just block and filter bestie, it's much easier when u avoid stuff like that