#{ there you go! }

[lexumpysfunland]

Can we have a swap au of this au where Stanley is big and powerful and Walter is just all talk? That would be funny

you got my brain working, so I'll explain the lore under the pictures!

here's Stanley:

and here's Walter:

noooow for the lore!

in this AU, Walter had a big argument with Ayla (curator), sadly for Wally the outcome was far from what he had imagined. Aayla got fed up with him and decided to swap his place with Stanley's to "teach" him a lesson. though swapping Stanley was easy to do, Swapping Walter was far from the same. Aayla messed him up really bad and now he cannot swap again. he is stuck as a 'human' and with a rather weird-looking arm now. somehow the swap created an anomaly he is now the host of, it is the very source of his pain now when he is not using it. this weird anomaly is sort of talking to him, at least he believes so. Walter can only hear a few words but they're always the same, "break, corrupt, devour, repeat".

Stanley on his side, initially felt really bad about all of this, but Aayla slowly made his opinion change about Walter. Stanley grew to be more cocky and more disrespectful of Walter making their relationship turn really hostile. every time he has the opportunity, Walter threatens Stanley to destroy him, so with time Stanley learns to stay far away from him, barely narrating anything since Walter always hangs out with Tk now. Stanley seems to stay around Aayla now, learning HER ways of doing things around here.

so let's say the Parable kept going like that, Stanley and Aayla generate another human so the narration can continue while Walter curiously wanders around, nobody knows exactly how he does that but it seems he's getting the hand of that anomaly thing...

there you go! Since Walter is a 'human' now tk and the curator never left. Tk is happy to hang out with his "best friend" and seems to be the only one Walter will listen to. And yes this means the adventure line is also here! they're named Jay by Walter and only listen to him haha.

ah! and a little bonus:

[delicatepointofview]

Showing 'em some moves!

[anonymergremlin]

"From a land far far away"

Pinocchio Headcanons with gn!lover from a distant country.

[Name] came to Krat when they were a small child. Meaning they speak the language of Krat and are familiar with its culture. But that doesn't stop them from showing that they still carry the "blood" of where they came from, once in a while.

P had no idea they were from anywhere else but Krat. No matter what their physical characteristics are, in his blue eyes they were just a "normal" citizen of Krat.

Until that moment, when they were in the process of explaining a certain thing to Eugenie. Just a normal conversation between the two of them. One that he was listening to.

"Yes! You need a [insert name for mechanical part in a different language] for that, trust me". "A what?"

Eugenie looks at them, eyebrows raised, P just confused. They didn't mean any harm, but the way Eugenie and P were looking at [Name], didn't help at all. Second by second, they became a little embarrassed.

So one day P asked [Name] about it, and they finally told him about their homeland. A country far away from Krat, a different language, a different culture, but still the same good old-fashioned human beings.

The puppet is especially interested in the things they enjoy and love about their home country. Like music, games, and anything else that brings you joy.

In the end, [Name] showed him whatever came to their mind that they were able to recreate with the resources they had.

Oh, and let us not forget about the language. P wants to know all sorts of words.

P may not be much of a talker, but he loves listening to others and reading books. So why not teach him, even if it is just a little of your language, to expand his horizons.

He is eager to learn and learns fast. After just a few lessons and he has already been able to understand a few things and even speak a few words.

Especially when those words involve whispering the sweetest things into their ears. Like all those sweet pet names [Name] mentioned.

[secondbeatsongs]

Trick or treat :D!

[pierkyn]

Baldur's Gate 3 - Minsc & Jaheira Companion Icons

"You must gather your party before venturing forth."

[derangedanomaly]

Hey, so I’m doing the ace playlist Next if you don’t mind, can you give me a little info about his personality, only if you want to of course (:

Okok!

So, let's hope I can give a description good enough! Let's-a-go!

Ace is a nerd when it comes to movies, series or even some monster species! He loves to theorize about the things he loves, and undoubtedly studies them very closely. Ace has an unhealthy obsession with cigarettes, it's the only thing that can manage to calm him down enough. Ace suffers from schizophrenia, but it's not as serious as it was in his past. He loves journalling, he owns at least 20 journals, all decked with various information about his interests. Ace doesn't normally talk to people, because he generally doesn't want to. The only times he interacts with someone, is when they share the same interest.

I hope I didn't forget anything. Good luck with the playlist!

[writing-whump]

Um, hello. ^^ Anonymous Matthew's fangirl here 😅 Could we know something more about his past, and Marcella maybe? Flashback or not. With some dose of whump, of course. 🐺

Pretty please. ^^

Thank you for the request, nonny! I'm honoured that Matthew has a fan 🥰 love the wolf emoji there 🐺😊💙.

Hopeless

Matthew was lying on the sidewalk, dirt and small stones digging into his right cheek. His vision went dark for second and it was still hazy. Where did all the other wolves go? There was a group of them just a minute ago...

"Oi. You aren't dead, are you? Wake up."

The voice was unfamiliar, rough, annoyed. Matthew didn't feel inspired to give it an answer.

"They are gone. You are safe. Hey. Get up."

Someone must have helped chase the others away, when he fell to the ground and blacked out. But shouldn't a savior sound more friendly? Who was this guy?

When Matthew scrunched his eyes, he could see a mop of curly unruly blond hair and weirdly light brown eyes that almost looked yellow in the blinding sunlight.

"Mhhhhgr?" Matthew blinked, trying to lift himself on his arms, but shooting lighting pain at the lower part of his back left him breathless and nosediving back to the ground. Christ, that hurt. Who hit him in the back like that? Good sportsmanship indeed.

"Where's your shadow, eh? Heal yourself up. Seriously." Hector sounded even more annoyed now, like he had to deal with a problem he really didn't like.

Matthew tried very very feebly to call his shadow, but it jolted away from his grasp. He wasn't sure if it was humiliated, scared to be caught in such a state or just disobeying when he least needed it. But his back was hurting too much and his ears were ringing enough that he really didn't have the energy to fight for control and get more nauseous and discerned than he was.

"What a pathetic thing you are. And you are my brother's second? Tsch."

Matthew closed his eyes, feeling Hector moving away. Maybe he would finally leave him alone to black out and feel miserable in peace.

Then he felt his hands on his shoulders, going under him and hoisting him up.

Matthew groaned at the movement and the accompanying pain. "You want to kill me?"

"Tsk. If I wanted that, I wouldn't have bothered helping."

Hector helped him? That was entirely impossible. Matthew didn't even bother checking. Isaiah's mean accusatory and barky little brother that had nothing nice to say about him? Matthew didn't know what exactly the issue was, but someone who wasn't willing to give Isaiah even a chance, who could believe he could do anything with bad intentions...

Like okay, Isaiah was mysterious and a martyr and annoyingly guilty and insecure about every little thing. But that only made Matthew think the ones who got the chance to know him, really know him, should defend him all the more. Even from himself.

In that regard, Hector was a complete failure Matthew didn't want to bother with. And he suspected the feelings were mutual.

But here they were, Hector throwing Matthew's arms around his neck and dragging him to the nearest bench.

"Hey. Dead-head. Should I call a taxi? Can you get back on your own?" Still sounding way too disgusted for Matthew's tastes. Though it was actually kinda helpful of him? Kinda.

Matthew slumped against the bench, teeth gritted from pain. His back was seriously messed up. His eyes were watering just from the effort to sit, not to mention move and his shadow wasn't listening, when he needed it and...

And he really just wanted Isaiah.

"Can you...could you call Isaiah?" Matthew said between wheezing breaths. He tried leaning over his knees, but it made him more light-headed. Nausea was climbing up his spine, cold sweat washing over him in waves.

"Please." Yeah. Matthew felt utterly too pathetic to care today.

Hector's head went back a little at the word. He grumbled something, scrolling up and down through his contacts. "I...don't have his number. You got a phone on you."

Matthew shook his head, pressing his lips together. Cold heaviness was pooling in his stomach and he knew that would be trying to climb out soon. He didn't carry his phone on his runs.

The wolves attacked him out of nowhere. Three against one. Isaiah would understand. He wasn't so sure Hector would.

The blond in question clicked his tongue. "Ugh. Fine. I'll call a taxi and take you home, how about that."

Matthew didn't comment at what it showed, that Hector knew Isaiah's address, been invited there in need, but didn't bother to save his phone number. Utterly insufferable, this guy.

Hector all but insulted the taxi driver into coming, then sat down next to Matthew, his leg jumping nervously.

Matthew closed his eyes, taking slow careful breaths through his nose. His back was burning steadily, and he was too warm and his hands were shaking. Damn it all.

The car parked sharply on the sidewalk. Hector opened the door, said something to the driver, then returned for Matthew.

"Young man, you aren't going to be sick are you?" The taxi driver asked from inside as Hector circled his arms around Matthew's upper back again, helping him hobble to the car.

"What if I do?" Matthew wanted to sound resentful and rebellious, but the sentence came out more like a whisper.

"Well, the taxi will survive," Hector snarled at the driver who was eying them both in the rear view mirror. He winced and looked away quickly at the scary look on Hector's face.

Matthew slumped against the window, but the more he was sitting the more his back muscles trembled. The pain was getting worse by the moving, and the nausea was spiking. He couldn't imagine how he was supposed to survive when the car started to move.

And as he expected, the car moved and Matthew couldn't suppress a quiet groan. His hands balled into fists, his nails digging into his skin, but it wasn't helping, he was still seeing stars in front of his eyes.

There was something warm and solid, suddenly pressing against his side. Hector's muscular arm around his neck again, pushing Matthew to lean against him, trying to fix him in the spot against the jostling of the car.

Matthew moaned quietly, but it did actually help - he wasn't moving so much, pressed against Hector, face against the crook of his neck. The red wolf squeezed his eyes shut, not having the capacity to think about it.

The car ride was a blur. Matthew stayed like that, eyes squeezed shut, waves of warmth coursing through him, fighting the nausea as it climbed and sank. Hector said nothing, all solid like a statue under Matthew. He must have held himself very tense and strong to fight against the rocking off the car.

Matthew's mind circled and wondered, the darkness enveloping him. The last time he fought three wolves...Matthew was no stranger to being outnumbered. As a teenager, the wolves in his pack had to gang up on him, to suppress his shadow. It was too big, too wild, too out of control. Add that to Matthew's volatile puberty hormones and temper, he had to be beaten and taken control of quite often.

Usually making a giant scene in the process. A scene his mother would angrily scoff over, turning her back. Matthew wasn't worth her time.

Scene enough that his sisters and younger siblings were too wary and horrified to approach him.

Since going to the boarding school, he could only spend his summers at home. And with the scenes he made, he spend most of the time behind their house at the back of the backyard. Outside. Alone.

"Why are you so sad?"

Matthew lifted his head from his crossed hands, hugging his knees. The little girl with strawberry red hair and big blue eyes stared back at him. A little witch. The youngest of his sisters, whole 10 years younger than him. The only witch, the long awaited one by his mother.

Marcella.

Matthew looked at her steadily. "I'm not sad," he grumbled.

"You look sad though." She crouched down, mimicking his pose by hugging her knees. She was only six years old. "Is it because you are alone?"

"I don't mind being alone," he said, baring his teeth. His mother would surely not be pleased that he talked to the witchling. They were very protective of her.

Marcella tilted her head to the side. "You don't look like you don't mind."

Matthew lowered his gaze. "They are all scared of me. Cowards." He said sulkingly, voice breaking a little at the end.

Marcella watched him curiously. "I'm not scared. Can I stay with you?"

Matthew let out a sigh, wiggling closer against the warmth and solidness of a human body beside him...when the car stopped. The sheer lack of the motion he almost got used to jolted him awake, his stomach doing somersaults immediately.

Matthew gagged, pressing his hand against his mouth as his body lurched forward. The movement had spikes of burning needles digging into his back and he moaned.

Hector reached over him, opening the door. The gust of fresh air helped a little, Matthew following the scent as he fought against the next gag. He succeeded in suppressing the wave of slimy coldness, gulping it down resolutely. His chest hitched and his stomach rolled in protest, but he managed.

"Okay. We are here, we are here. You made it." Hector got out through the other side, circling around to crouch next to Matthew, planting a hand on his biceps. "You gonna be okay?"

"Y-...grrr...you are asking me that?" Matthew grumbled, slightly amused. Hector made for a good distraction. Matthew automatically reached for his arm to help himself up and Hector had enough brain and observation skills to take Matthew's weight himself.

"You owe me for the ride," Hector complained with no heat in his tone. Matthew murmed something in return, letting Hector support him. Everything was coming in and out of focus. Maybe for the best he kept his eyes closed.

Matthew didn't even realized when they reached their floor on the elevator, incredibly proud of himself for not throwing up the whole time. He kept his eyes shut. Hector, fortunately, didn't complain.

Hector rang the bell, the familiar sound vibrating through the air on the next side.

Isaiah opened the door. "Matt-"

Matthew all but threw himself at Isaiah, utter relief giving him enough energy to propell himself forward. The black haired wolf caught him despite the surprise, and Matthew gratefully slumped against him. "Oh, dear God, I'm home."

Isaiah splattered for air under the weight. "Matt, what happened?"

"Geez, he is acting like I was no help," Hector grunted, frozen in the doorway at the sight.

"And you were?" Isaiah said sceptically.

Hector scoffed. "Seriously. Found him getting his ass kicked by a bunch of wolves. Chased them away but he ain't healing, so-"

"That's alright," Isaiah jumped in. "Thank you for bringing him." Isaiah didn't close the door, but Matthew still felt like Hector just got dismissed as the oldest wolf retreated back from the hall into the living roon, Matthew still in his arms. "Where are you hurt?"

Matthew groaned against the back of his throat. "Mmy back. Feels like someone stabbed me there."

He could feel Isaiah's hands running over his back as if to check for bleeding cuts, but the skin was intact. It was something deeper, like a pulled muscle. But why did it hurt like that?

Isaiah helped Matthew to lie down on his stomach, helping him out of his sweat-soaked shirt. "Okay. You are going to be alright, bud. Deep breaths. Is your shadow hurt?"

Matthew hid his face between his arms, finally relaxing at the stable surface. When the tension left, the nausea trickled right back in and he hissed in pain.

"I-Isaiah? I'm...ugh-" Matthew gulped, loudly, feeling his stomach spasming. He tried lifting himself up and moaned, his back feeling like he got a slash with a sword at the movement. "Ifeelsick."

Isaiah jumped into action, fetching a mixing bowl from the kitchen and and springing back to Matthew's side. "Okay, I got you. Shhhh. Don't move."

Matthew shifted to the edge of the sofa, moaning as his cheeks bulged out. How was he supposed to not move? His stomach didn't care his back was hurting like a bitch, it was spasming and making him lurch. The movement was absolutely involuntary at this point.

Isaiah put the large mixing bowl down on the floor, then took Matthew's face gently in his hands. His palm against Matthew's forehead and the other on his cheek felt heavenly cold as Isaiah supported the weight of Matthew's head.

Matthew was leaning over the edge just enough to let out a trick of thick spit into the bowl. He moaned again, his stomach cramping as it send the next wave of chunky sick up his throat with a load burp.

Isaiah diligently held his face in his hands as the puke spilled from Matthew's open mouth. "Shhhhh. You are alright. Just breathe. It will be over in a minute."

Matthew's eyes were watering from the strain and pressure at his neck, connected to the burning nerve endings of his back. But it was thousand times better as to strain there without Isaiah's support.

Matthew burped up a second gush of puke, whole body jerking in the process. He groaned, tears running down his cheeks and into Isaiah's fingers.

The spasms of vomit died down slowly, with Matthew twitching and groaning pitifully for another good minute. Isaiah held his cheek, stroking his hair with the hand, trying to shush him.

Matthew completely gave up on any emberassment or pretense, raw and tired from the pain, afraid of more of it coming. He was so glad Isaiah was there he would have cried if he wasn't already.

Matthew was left breathing harshly against the sofa's leather, now shivering from the cold that also jolted his back and hurt. Everything hurt, everything was too much and his shadow wasn't listening...

"Hey. Shhhhh. You are okay. You are home, you are safe. You will get through this. I'm right here. Everything will be fine."

Isaiah's confidence broke Matthew's spiral. Matthew strained to look up at him, turning his head to the side.

Isaiah got rid of the bowl, bringing it back cleaned out, then sat down beside him. Matthew didn't protest against being pulled into Isaiah's lap like a child.

Isaiah said nothing about the tears, only stroking his sweaty hair and his scalp gently. His utter calm was making Matthew believe everything was indeed going to be fine. He relaxed, starting to feel sleepy. Just the occasional shiver jolted him awake.

Isaiah pressed his lips together and pulled a blanket neatly folded at the foot of the sofa over Matthew's naked back. "Just sleep. Everything will go back to normal once you wake up."

Isaiah was sure once Matthew calmed down, he would be able to call upon his shadow and heal himself. Isaiah never had any doubts Matthew could do it. He never doubted Matthew could do anything.

Matthew let his eyes fall closed with the gravity, wondering at what point Hector's presence disappeared from the apartment.

He must have been in a hurry, leaving the door open.

[your-fave-isdoomedbythenarrative]

dont you dare ever put 2ollux liiterally the whole poiint of 2ollux ii2 that he thought he wa2 doomed by the narratiive and then ju2t realii2e2 the be2t way ii2 ju2t gtfo 2ure he wa2 totally doomed but he e2caped

(/lh)

Sollux Captor from Homestuck was doomed by the narrative and did escape!

[natures-marvel]

Samajh nahi aa raha kaise

Hmm....

@h0bg0blin-meat @thirteen-deaths-later help him out, please

[russilton]

elaborate pls 📝

THIS TOOK ME SEVEN FUCKIN HOURS TO FIND, I CRAWLED LEWIS FAN PAGES, OFFICIAL SOCIALS, SPINZ AND SEB K, I even had to go through ANGELA fan pages and god I’m charging you both for the therapy I need for THAT (I miss Angela so fucking much)- it took me checking my DM’s with Badrieh for a mention of it then SEARCHING MY BLOGS ARCHIVE to find this photo

I can’t BELIEVE it took me so long to find bc Lewis is wearing the fuckin penicillin hat

ANYWAY- HUNGARY 22 (fantastic race), at that point it’s been a long running theory that George and Lewis used to coordinate outfits bc they kept wearing contrasting watches and either contrasting whole outfits and matching shirts and contrasting trousers to weekends (shockingly there was less drama last year we were focusing on very boring things)- and we used to joke that they must be texting about what to wear before each race.

Then the above photo pops up, and someone pointed out Lewis has said in the past he finds ironing calming. He clearly seemed to be labelling those shirt hangers, and one said 63 SU on it.

So of course the reasonable theory we created is that perhaps they’re always matching bc lewis�� irons and plans their shirts himself to have something to do, and George lets him because… it’s George. This was especially possible given that georgie boy… isn’t great at ironing. I mean look at him, disaster boy.

(George didn’t end up wearing white on Saturday, but the weather changed quickly and he ended up in a black long sleeve, but then we got the infamous royal couple pics so, we still won)

[izzyeffinhands]

“try and get some sleep. i’ll stay right here- i won’t let anything happen to you, i swear.” (Frenchie, elyrianinspo. Sorry if this is too many sent! You definitely don’t have to answer it if you’re not feeling it. Hope you feel better ❤️‍🩹 I’m a slut for frenchie protecting Izzy during The Bad Times (kraken era))

“ I don’t want to sleep, Frenchie. “

Izzy was tired. He was so tired, so fucking drained and so very sore after everything he was going through. Never in his days had he truly thought he might hate Edward Teach, but as of right now.. well. Pathetically, Israel still straddled the border on love. What would it take for the first-mate to have enough? What would Ed have to do for this codependent bastard to stop trying to love him? Well.. he’d find out eventually. Soon, was more like it.

Why was it that this old sea dog was at his most beautiful when he wept? Izzy’s eyes were glossed but he hadn’t permitted a tear to fall. Fuck, he’d wanted to save Ed. That was HIS mate, then that blonde came along and ruined everything. .. but he couldn’t really hate Bonnet either. Izzy was just so numb in the depths of sadness he wasn’t sure he’d crawl out from. So many feelings swirled in his mind. Izzy loved Ed, even now as he threw knives at him, as he cursed, as he mutilated him over and over. .. how many toes has he lost now? He isn’t even sure in this moment, he’s so fucking tired.

All of this abuse truly proved his worth as first-mate and quartermaster. This crew, minus Ivan and Fang, the bilge dogs that had thrown him off The Revenge? He was protecting. It was his duty, or what he told himself was his duty. Izzy had found out about Lucius sometime ago. Maybe this was his penance for not being able to save that boy. Maybe he was protecting the rest, despite things they’d done to him, in order to make up for it and every wicked thing that …

“ If I sleep the nightmares ‘ll come. “ That was when his voice choked, letting his head fall to the side so he could cast his eyes up at him as he sat in his bunk. He hadn’t even turned his head, he’d simply let it fall. He didn’t even know how he had the energy to keep going, but he was. He sniffed. “ And I can’t tell anymore if I’m asleep in the nightmare or if I’m awake.. it’s all just the same now.. “

Izzy often burned his flesh in a candle prior to The Kraken. He wasn’t beyond self harm and he was a bit of a masochist anyhow. But now the pirate took effort to lift his palm and raise it over the solitary pillar candle on the table at the bedside. He didn’t even flinch as his hand moved within the flame. Izzy had burned himself so much he had callouses, but this was his palm, and he had it cutting through the middle of the dancing light.

Eyes were on Frenchie as flesh sizzled and finally those welled tears began to drip down his cheeks. “ .. am I even alive? “

[janwixler]

I find it heart-clenching that Neil 'I've been lying about my parents since my mom died' Josten actually has a caring family on his mother's side?! Yes, I'm talking about his uncle Stuart Hatford. Of course, that family is equally fucked up as his father's but at least they would Protect Neil instead of cutting him in two halves. not to mention at the last match of TKM when every fox was meeting up with their families, Neil (admit it) being a little sad that there wasn't anyone for him to look up to, Stuart comes into the picture. Tell me Neil wasn't a bit happy then! Tell me he was trying to act so cool as to not care. well, he knew there was a fifty-fifty chance of staying alive after the match BUT he trusted his uncle enough to assassinate Proust and keep Andrew safe. Neil is actually aware of the little mafia/family power he holds! Neil Has a real Blood-line Family out there. maybe he won't be part of it but little did he know, they'll always want to protect and keep him safe.

[lykosog]

EDITS OF ROBB STARK

Mutuals may reblog. Personals do not interact.

[maridise]

@maskednihilism / from Lynx.

A long day of adventuring isn't complete without a proper meal. Lynx knows better than most what it takes to survive, and taking stock of her needs and supplies must never not be a priority. A fire sizzles softly in front of her, providing plenty of warmth to warm her hands. "Do you want some fish?" she asks her...guest. He doesn't seem to have any supplies on him, but he wouldn't have made it this far into the wildness without at least some provisions to his name.

[dragon-kazansky]

Dear Dog Dad,

Baylie is a beautiful goddess who IS RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF YOU. All she wants for Christmas is to make out with you... at least. It would really make her 2023 if you legit just got on one knee and asked her to marry you.

With all good intentions,

Her pretty awesome friend, Rachael.

@bayisdying