#(AGDGDG)

[hearthtales]

fun fact! if you earn bran’s trust enough for him to actually be ok with physical contact from you, and you give him a genuine hug, he might cry.

[bunnyb34r]

I'm really glad that when you get those money packs in mini brands capsules it comes in with another item, so you're not getting like 4 fun items and then 1 tiny pack of money. Bc I can see them being a real dick and just doing that. Instead we get SIX items :D

But can you imagine opening a capsule and every single item is a tiny money pack? Bc I can see them pulling that fucking shit. I really can

[theaterism]

ok genuine question to any mutuals who also have full-time jobs — how do u like?? find the time and energy to write anymore????? bc i started working a full-time job in october and i am Struggling

[vellichorium]

have u seen her? now u have.

[amphibifish]

rod avenue q. he exists. reblog.

[lovelessmotel]

ive been playing zelda for two hours straight…..what has happened in here

[liighthouse]

meredith has never left llewellyn. it would take extreme circumstances for her to leave willingly. as the lightkeeper, she is tethered to the lighthouse and cannot travel far from it. venturing beyond the town’s borders would result in dire consequences.

the lighthouse itself would essentially have a breakdown without her. its walls would slowly crack, the paint peeling away, saltwater warping the floor. its small connected house — meredith and megan’s home — would also suffer: the plumbing breaking, the roof leaking. megan could try to handle her mother’s responsibilities, but her abilities are limited without more training. eventually, the lighthouse’s ever-present light would begin flickering and fading.

llewellyn has never gone long without a lightkeeper, but misfortune plagued its few months without one. the cadigans have always reassumed their role in the end. they’re a resourceful bunch (and mostly loyal).

as meredith’s apprentice, megan is also connected to the lighthouse. however, the thread tying her to it is much thinner. this means she can leave the town with less serious repercussions. the lighthouse would still miss her and feel emptier in her absence, though. as meredith’s only child, megan is destined to assume the position of lightkeeper eventually, at which point she’d be tethered just like meredith.

[saltnpepperbunny]

I hope you know you are seriously inspiring/tempting me to start making a comic of my own between Finding Your Roots and Children Of The Light.

they are so good, it’s giving me ideas agdgdg

Thank you for the kind words. :'D Best of luck with your own comic!!! They are very fun to make.

[luescris]

*SCREAMING* SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

WAHAHSHWHEHSJHDHWWUWHAUAGSHAAHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

OH MU GOD. MY HEAD IS SO FILLED WITH THOUGHTS. MY HEAD IS SO FULL I CAN'T FUNCTION NORMALLY RIGHT NOW ON GOD

SONIC IS SO FUCKING STUPID. BUT SO FUCKING SILLY AND ADORABLE AND AUAGAUGAUAGAUAGAHAGAG I LOVE HIM SO FUCKING MUCH YOU GUYS I CANT HANDLE HIM

HIS "Fascinating. But what I want to know is, how... Did you get in here???" AND "Are you ignoring me?? :( You're ignoring me. >:( Why is everyone ignoring me?!?! >>>:(((((" WHILE HE HAD HIS FACE PRESSED AGAINST SOMEONE ELSE'S IM- AHSGGEJEDG AAAAAAAA

I WILL HAVE THOSE TWO PARTS FOREVER STUCK IN MY HEAD IT'S TOO GOOD

ALSO. AMY??? RUSTY????? OH MY GOD. WAS HER TRANSFORMATION FORCED??? DID SHE CHOOSE TO BE ROBOTICISED???? OR WAS SGE CAPTURED??? SONIC IS RIGHT THAT IS SO FUCKED UP.

AND THE HELL WHY DID SHADOW DO THAT IN THE END

I mean I'm guessing cuz he thinks Sonic fucked shit up again (which. Sonic kinda did) BUT STILL BEING HIT IN THE NOSE IS A LITTLE UNCALLED FOR LIKE PLEASE??????

AND SPEAKING OF BEING PUNCHED IN THE FACE WHY THE HELL DID HE HIT HIS FACE SO MANY TIMES IN ONE EPISODE!??!??!? I MEAN I KNOW IT'S A GAG NOW BUT MY GOD SONIC HAS TO AT LEAST HAVE A CONCUSSION NOW POOR THING AGDGDGS

IM SO JUST. HOOOUGHHHHHGGGGHGGHHHHHHHHH

[thahiree]

An arguing Steve and Tony being told by Thor they need to “pound one out together” to get the tension out. They each interpret that statement VERY differently as they agree to it. The one thinking it was dirty and the one thinking it involved violence is perhaps not the one you think it is.

Once again we think alike...literally before you even said "The one thinking it was dirty and the one thinking it involved violence is perhaps not the one you think it is." I was thinking that agdgdg. Steve is a dirty boy 😈

Tony (ready to REALLY beat up Steve....like he doesn't even need the suit for it, he's *that* ready k): ok let's fuckin go!!! 🔪😡💀

Steve: o-okay? 👀 i mean...right now? lol

[horror-ofthe-sea]

Ppl have def already thought of this- but headcanon that Zane is really into pink things and baking, maybe even dresses, but the negative feedback from the other ninja that he received when he wore the pink frilly apron made him feel like it was wrong, thus he hid those interests

[hearthtales]

bc i have no self control, please like this post if you’d like an itty bitty starter with the itty bitty curiosity shop wisp! if you’re a multi, please specify which of your muses you’d like the starter aimed toward. i may write these quite slowly and i may also message you for some plotting since she’s a peculiar muse <3

[bunnyb34r]

Thinking ab how I sent my manager an email the day before I had a mandatory week off and cant access my work email at home 😌 agsgdggdgdgd

[theaterism]

Cerise

crimson coats your nails.

you struggled to pick between the polish called ‘poison apple’ and the one called ‘rouge fatale.’ you chose ‘rouge fatale’ in the end — a favorite of yours, a reliable eye-catcher in parties like this. a shimmering coat of translucent polish glossed atop the red makes it gleam with a freshness you adore.

you arrive late to your own party. fashionably late, of course. you glide into the ballroom and guests flock to you in moments, as expected. it’s all gasps and greetings and compliments about the party and the entertainment and oh, the tart is simply divine and oh, what a lovely dress, wherever did you get it? you recognize some guests and pretend to recognize others who greet you with bright familiarity. nearly every guest has invited themself; proper invitees are few and far between, carefully chosen by nathaniel.

you spot your husband amidst fellow businessman in sleek suits, conversing amongst each other. you’ve learned they’re always discussing business even when they’re not discussing business. champagne glass in hand, you sweep up behind him and press a chaste kiss to his cheek, which earns a fond hum and a sidelong smile from nathaniel. you flash a smile to his associates before slipping back into the crowd.

it doesn’t take long for you to join a group of tittering ‘friends’ who share your fondness for gossip. some evenings you start the conversation yourself; other evenings, someone beats you to sharing the first snippet of tantalizing hearsay. this time, you enter the conversation midway through. you catch onto the main subjects of interest quickly enough. hushed voices surround you, rumors tossed back and forth.

isn’t her dress dreadful?

have you heard about margaret?

mr. rosling’s such a gentleman, isn’t he?

you take another sip of champagne and hum, “oh, i wouldn’t say that.” everyone looks at you, eyes bright with hunger, awaiting your words with bated breath, and something within you purrs in delight. you’ve got them wrapped around your finger. feigning secrecy, you glance around, lean closer, whisper, “i heard… he had a tryst with his wife’s sister.”

gasps all around. several guests blurt agreement and begin weaving their own versions of the tale. your smile curls wider. you’ve no idea whether this story is true. you doubt it, since you invented it for a laugh.

this is all a game, after all. you know these people adore a scandal, no matter how adamantly they may deny it. they crave drama. something to interrupt the monotony. so, you sometimes fabricate the drama yourself. your fellow socialites will seize this rumor and spread it like wildfire, embellishing it along the way while you watch from the sidelines, and in their eagerness and excitement, they’ll forget you started it. no one would trace the rumor back to you, so any damage it caused mr. rosling wouldn’t harm you.

you have no personal grudge against the man. a scandal would simply be the most entertaining.

champagne warms your chest, light and fizzling, and softens the evening with a golden gauze. faces and voices blend together like paint across a canvas. music rises and falls, laughter lilts along with it. the glass doors remain open; partygoers drift in and out of the ballroom freely. a cool breeze drifts inside as well. you watch the fire-breather in the garden, the entertainment for this party, as he spits flame into the air. sparks flicker into the darkness like fireflies.

you lean back against a wall to catch your breath after an especially dizzying dance. the remnants of laughter tingle on your lips. you’ve already forgotten the joke and whether you actually found it funny.

as your gaze lingers on the crowd, your imagination runs wild and spins a daydream in which everyone finally snaps, in which instincts overpower etiquette and transform the party into a carnival of unbridled atrocity. champagne glasses shatter; knives once used to slice tarts turn into weapons. you imagine blood speckling your dress like tiny rubies. you’re prepared: your nail polish would match perfectly.

you often slip into such daydreams during parties. desire burns through your veins, insatiable hunger. something bristles beneath your skin, begging to burst free and tear everyone to shreds. most people infuriate you. you long to fracture their facades. you picture fear splashed vividly across their features.

restlessness claws at your throat. ignoring it, you tilt your head upward and gaze at the ceiling. glittering crystals drip from the chandelier. perhaps you could make it fall and crash upon the guests somehow. you imagine the chaos that would ensue. you aren’t tipsy enough to lose your wits altogether — you know such a tragic accident would likely dissuade people from attending future parties. your reputation comes first.

the beast in you twists bitterly.

“cerise,” says a familiar voice. you lower your gaze to see your husband smiling at you. lost in thought, you hadn’t sensed him approach. your mouth curves in a reflexive smile in return. nathaniel leans toward you, his breath warm against your ear, and murmurs, “daydreaming about the chandelier falling again?”

a laugh tumbles from your lips, and tension melts from your shoulders. “maybe,” you quip back. your fingers catch his tie and smooth it, your tone almost petulant. “wouldn’t it be fun? i think it’d be fun.”

“oh, certainly.”

“we could get a new chandelier afterward, an even lovelier one to make everyone forget what happened with the old one. i’m sure this one’s dusty anyway.”

he clicks his tongue. “quite true. but i’m afraid it might damage the floor, and i suspect the whole affair might be considered impolite as well.” the sympathy in his tone sounds so sincere that you can’t tell whether he’s merely playing along. you pout regardless, watch as his gaze drifts to the guests. “so,” he inquires, “what’s the talk of the evening?”

you sigh and swish the fizzling liquid in your glass. “oh, the usual, really. terrible fashion, poor manners, secret lovers.” you sip the champagne, then muse, “if you’re looking for someone desperate to make a deal, you may want to check with mr. rosling in a few days or so. i think i might’ve ruined his marriage.”

a chuckle escapes nathaniel. “i’ll keep that in mind. if he doesn’t reach out to me first, perhaps i’ll invite him to our next party, to give us a chance to talk.”

the music shifts its rhythm. like a true gentleman, he offers his arm to you and invites you to join him in a dance. a smile flits across your face. you accept his arm, red nails vivid against his suit sleeve, and allow him to lead you into the crowd. in your mind, you still picture crystals plummeting from the ceiling and shattering, skidding across the floor, coquettes and businessmen losing their composure instantly and shrieking in surprise. if nothing else broke them, surely terror and a chandelier would suffice.

[vellichorium]

OKAY now that i’ve posted info posts for all the major fae patrons, i can rank them. this is an excellent use of my time and i am not struggling to focus on Actually Writing whatsoever. <- lying

least to most dangerous: tòmag, devon, parsley, lonan, meriwether

least to most fun/party-loving: devon, tòmag, meriwether, lonan, parsley

youngest to oldest: parsley, tòmag, lonan, meriwether, devon

least to most chaotic: devon, tòmag, lonan, parsley, meriwether (meriwether and parsley are tied actually but they are chaotic in different ways; meriwether is more ‘i will turn u into leaves’ chaotic and parsley is more ‘i will play every game in existence’ chaotic)

[pinevalley]

@magickedhat wren immediately going eyes emoji tho ABJXBISBUC

“oh, it’s awesome. like— okay, there is a ghost there, but he isn’t murderous or anything. all you gotta do to keep him happy is give him a baseball card that isn’t in his collection yet, and they sell packs of baseball cards in the gas station store. then you can use a baseball bat or whatever to break stuff.”