#I am so normal about these two

[can-i-take-a-stab]

My favorite parts of the new video

(LOGAN CHECKING IF HE HAS BREASTS I CAN’T)

I can only imagine Virgil going around like “Lol Miku Binder”

~~MyTwIsTeDnIgHtMaRe~~

[turbotaco]

Someone on Twitter pointed out the fact that gay marriage hadn't been legalized in the US before 2003--which just makes Bill and Frank getting married on the last day of their lives that much more personal and meaningful.

They knew it wouldn't mean anything to the world they lived in (especially in an apocalypse) but it was important to THEM.

Not to mention the fact that marriage as an institution was probably something Bill actively hated on principle (in line with his libertarian lone wolf "I hate the world and it hates me" outlook on life).

And then he meets Frank.

He's never been scared of anything before but Frank brings out something in him and he's terrified of it..

When they meet, somehow they know that against all odds they've found someone special. It's like Bill hadn't been living--really living--before Frank. Despite how scary it is to love someone so deeply in a world so deeply broken, they try. They hold onto each other, tight.

They love and fight and make up and love and fight some more. They're honest and open and warm and kind-- each in their own ways. They only have 16 years together but damn, do they make the most of it.

At the end of it all, Bill recognizes that. And he lets himself indulge in the hope he'd crushed within himself for a long, long time.

He loves Frank the way he wants to be loved. So they get married on the last day. He dresses in the fancy-ass clothes Frank picks out for him. He walks with Frank to their favorite spots. They share their first meal together all over again. And Bill makes a choice. He doesn't want to be on this earth without his purpose. He doesn't want to leave without having given Frank everything. And so, they go together.

It doesn't mean anything to anyone else. No one is paying attention to this small town in the country. There are few people to remember them now that they're gone. But it doesn't matter. It means everything to Bill and Frank. Two people who loved, despite it all.

[ohanny]

my take on what happened to kenta after canon and how he grew to love himself (and kim)

after it’s all over, kenta gets into some legal trouble. pete, of course, bails him out of it and gives him a job in his company but it very quickly becomes evident neither one of them is doing well. they have this weird dynamic where there is just too much water under the bridge for a fresh start. pete is way too distracted with his own angst to accommodate all of kenta’s needs and kenta is walking a tight-rope of needing to be good and useful to pete but not wanting to turn pete into another tony-figure.

they’re too awkward and can't communicate properly and one evening pete just pulls out a bottle of whiskey and they sit down and drink. they both get shit wasted and neither one of them knows who leans in first but then they're kissing. it’s… bad. neither one of them truly wants it and when pete pulls back, kenta gets up and walks away.

if they were struggling to work together before, they start downright avoiding each other after. one day, in an effort to get kenta out of the office, pete sends him over to the x-hunter garage to bring alan some papers to sign and that’s when kenta runs into kim again. their eyes meet and that familiar tension is back but this time kenta breaks first, looking down at his feet. “not gonna lie, i thought i would feel some kind of way about this,” kim says, “but man… you look like shit.” kenta huffs out a laugh and looks at kim out from under his bangs and okay, kim thinks, he is kind of cute. and he did finally shish kebab the right person.

so kim agrees to show kenta where alan is working and their stilted attempt at small talk goes a little like:

kim: so you work for pete now?

kenta: yes.

kim: you don’t sound too happy about it.

kenta: it’s something to do.

kim: some friendly, unsolicited advice? You look like you need a break. and like you need to figure yourself out.

kim walks away but what he said sticks with kenta even after he's handed alan the papers and gotten the signatures he needs. he is tired. him and pete can barely look each other in the eye and every time it happens, he gets this familiar sense of doom and anxiety in the pit of his stomach, feeling like he's done something wrong and is about to get punished for it. so when he returns to the office, the first thing he does is ask pete for a leave of absence.

pete agrees immediately, handing kenta a credit card and telling him to take as long as he needs. so in the first selfish act in possibly forever, kenta packs his meager belongings and books a one way ticket to japan for the very next morning. he lands in tokyo and spends the first few days walking around but leaves the city pretty quick, taking a train and then a bus to a village he has no memory of but was listed on his birth certificate.

he works on his rusty japanese. he eats the food. he rents a small bungalow from an elderly lady and settles in. then one evening as he's watching the sun set on his back porch, he texts pete asking for kim’s number and after receiving it (with a question mark he does not answer), sends kim a picture of the said sunset with a simple “thanks for the advice.”

kenta doesn't mean for it to lead anywhere but they start texting. it starts out slow but as the days pass, the messages increase in number. kenta mostly sends pictures of his every day life with short captions because he still struggles with expressing himself. kim tells him about the new racing season and the ongoing saga of north and sonic dancing around each other, about how they’re finally getting their acts together but are so uncertain and awkward about it that both of them constantly keep asking him to third wheel.

and it's easy and safe and kenta never feels pressured so when at the end of the season kim mentions having some time off to travel, kenta doesn't hesitate to offer his services as a tour guide. they meet again at the airport where kenta drove to pick kim up and yes, it is a bit weird at first but then kim rolls his eyes and asks “so are we going to kiss or not?” and kenta laughs. kim’s never heard him do that before and he sounds so happy and looks so pretty that kim doesn't eve wait for an answer and dives in because they only have ten days and he is not going to northsonic this. (yes, kim would use that as a verb.)

they spend their time glued to each other, living in this happy bubble, but all good things must come to an end. kim is flying back and on the final day before his departure, he asks kenta to return with him. “if only for a visit. people care about you, you know? you’re still family to them.” when kenta says he doesn't know if he'd like to stay kim says it doesn't matter. “you don't have to. but you can't hide here forever either.”

and that's how kim ends up coming home from his hush-hush vacation with kenta in tow. this kenta is different than the one that left bangkok nearly a year ago. he looks healthier, has some color to his skin and walks with his back straight and head held high. still, he's nervous as hell as he walks into the x-hunter garage.

he's barely set a foot inside when jeff steps up and pulls him into a hug, telling him how happy he is to see kenta doing so well. babe is the next one up, looking kenta up and down and going “if this is what taking a break does, i might need one too.” (meanwhile sonic approaches kim, wiggles his eyebrows at kenta and goes “... nice,” offering a totally unsubtle high five that kim gladly accepts.)

kenta knows eventually he’ll need to go see pete as well and kim offers to go with him but he knows it's something he has to do alone. so he shows up at the office, near closing time, and knocks on pete’s door with a “you have some time for your brother or do i need to make an appointment?”

pete looks up from his paperwork and sees kenta. and fuck if he doesn't feel an enormous amount of relief? because kenta looks good. because kenta called him his brother. because in that moment he feels like he can have his old friend back without the baggage of the muddled feelings of adolescent love and sense of betrayal. pete needs that desperately. ever since way, he's buried himself i work to cope and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't close to his breaking point. 

kenta: you know, a smart man once told me i needed to take a break and go figure myself out.

pete: and is the smart man in the room with us?

kenta: no. but he’s probably bothering your secretary downstairs even though i clearly instructed him to wait in the car.

kenta sounds so stupidly fond when he says this and it's very clear to pete exactly why he was asked for kim’s number all those months ago. but after that brief moment of kenta letting the simp shine through, he does get back into pointing out how pete looks pretty ragged and should rest, if only for a week. pete asks him if kenta would be willing to hold down the fort for that week but kenta just laughs, telling him he's shit out of luck. “i think i’m done doing business with you. or anyone for that matter.”

he explains how, while staying in japan, he started teaching basic martial arts and kendo to the neighborhood kids and he really likes it. that he's good at it and it makes him sleep better at night, knowing he’s helping kids defend themselves. he also hands pete his credit card back with a sly little “i don't think kim and his sponsor money approve me having two sugar daddies” and then says he really should go, that he has plans for the evening.

“are you free tomorrow?” pete asks as they stand up to say their goodbyes. “we could get dinner. as old friends.” “sounds good. i’ll call you?” and this time when kenta walks out of the office, he does it with the final weight off his shoulders. he goes downstairs where kim is, in fact, bothering the secretary, fingers nervously tapping against the counter. he looks so pretty in the late afternoon sun and kenta is struck by the sudden joy of just… being alive to experience this.

he takes kim’s hand in his and walks them out, knowing he’s going to be okay.

-

do i want to write this out as a proper fic? yes. is it likely i will create something i feel confident posting? no. so take this extremely self indulgent offering in the meantime?

[laauranenn]

I feel like everyone forgets that the axe was dull.

Ren held his speech and presented Martyn with the axe, only for it to be dull. When Martyn goes to lop his head off as instructed, it takes him not one, not two, but three swings until it finally works.

Martyn had to swing three times. Three.

[artfartt]

I got a new sketchbook :)

[estravens-tits]

Le Guin fed us so well with this. You're telling me that Estraven. Unshakeably calm and dignified Estraven. The former prime minister of Karhide. One of the most eloquent and formidable guys on the planet. THAT Estraven is such a fucked up sleeper that every morning in the tent with Genly, he has to flop around for a bit to wake up and then when he finally drags himself to a sitting position, he only has enough presence of mind to stare confusedly at Genly with his stupid half-asleep face? He also sleep talks, going from an earlier passage. Which is all fucking adorable, and it also makes a point about Estraven’s character.

Very few people see Estraven’s true feelings. But every day they travel, Genly sees Estraven not just off-guard but completely out of it. Like you could bounce a penny off his forehead and he wouldn't notice out of it.

And Estraven lets him see. We know Estraven’s discomfort with talking about his past and expressing his feelings directly. It can’t be easy for him to be so vulnerable with Genly. But he does it without ceremony or conversation. Because that’s the kind of trust Estraven has in Genly Ai. He believes so much in the mission and in Genly himself that he would go against his own nature to get Genly across the Ice.

[orangepeelshortbreadcookies]

Declaring our commitment to eachother, choosing trust and acceptance, warts and all, before making love nasty on the kitchen floor over the immobile body of the corrupt, dirty cop we're killing together is peak romance there I said it--

[youling-the-ghost]

I like to think that if Titch and Derek were to get married, Titch would be the one to propose and he'd do it in the most casual way ever.

Like, they'd just be chilling on the sofa one nice and Titch would just say "Let's get married," out of nowhere and pull out a ring from his pocket. And of course Derek would be flustered, because his boyfriend just proposed to him as if it was nothing! He agrees with flushed cheeks, then goes up to his room and comes back with a ring box in his hand. Turns out he was preparing to propose as well but was too nervous to do so.

I don't know, I think that'd be cute.

[celestetcetera]

I can’t believe it’s canon that Emma convinces Paul to hatewatch musicals with her. This man is fucking smitten with her oh my gods,

[alwayshappyhoursomewhere]

[ghostinthegallery]

can you do "please hold me" for the prompts please?

Here it is! "Please hold me" from this list of prompts. Featuring Zahndrekh/Obyron and a little post-Severed trauma.

###

Obyron had endured hundreds of feasts. Thousands, maybe tens of thousands by now. Some in the time of flesh, most in the time of metal when there were no dishes nor full goblets save for in his master’s mind. Obyron hated them, but he had never once fled from the unpleasantness. Until now.

Obyron wished he could slam the door behind him. Instead it slid smoothly back into place, doing nothing to release the violent tide of emotions roiling in his flux. His heart should have been racing, his head swimming, his skin dotted with sweat. There was nothing. His living metal was pristine and he was still. If one were to look at him they might assume he was as mindless as his brethren. He wasn’t. Sometimes he cursed that fact.

Right now he cursed his weakness most of all.

Casual barbs at his expense from Sautekh lords were a reality of his position. The necron nobility had little to do but battle with their armies and battle with their wits, meager as the latter often were. In reality, they simply insulted each other. Their performance in campaigns, their palaces, their possessions…their soldiers.

“That one had a phalanx, didn’t it, Zahndrekh?” The lord had pointed to Obyron then. “Shame you never taught it proper tactics, otherwise it might have held onto them. Or perhaps your example was too poor.”

At that point, Obyron had faced a choice between leaving the feast or beating the noble to death.

He had managed to make his exit somewhat subtle. Found a lychguard to take his position at Zahndrekh’s side, circled the room as if he were simply patrolling. Then he left. This chamber was the first empty one he had found, scrying through the oculars of some nearby scarabs. The Yama had been built in the time of flesh, back when ships needed room to store provisions, beds, and life support. There were many unused sections to slip into. Perhaps this plain, dull silver room had once held necrontyr soldiers. Perhaps they had spoken here, reminisced, laughed, cried, lived. 

Obyron pressed his hand against his faceplate to try and drive the thoughts from his head. He could not stop the flood of images of the phalanx he had lost. Sabni, Pentesh, Neb. Dead gods, Neb who had asked to die at his side. Well he had gotten his wish, only Obyron had no idea if Neb had realized it in the end. What little existence they’d clung to had been erased on Doahht. Because of Obyron’s orders. So much had happened on that planet he’d barely had time to think about their loss. Part of him had even been relieved that their suffering was over. But still…they had died. And it had been his fault. 

Why? Why had his mind survived when theirs had not? Why was he standing here when they were reduced to nothing? Their bodies not entombed but repurposed to build new chassis for different soldiers? He had been no different from them. Born a soldier, promoted for good service and a stubborn ability to stay alive. Burned away body and soul. What had he done to earn existence while his friends had been condemned to mindless oblivion?

A knock on the door startled him. Damn the dead gods. He had let his circumspection protocols slip in order to fall into this pathetic malaise. 

“Obyron?” asked a cautious voice. “Are you in there, old friend?”

“My lord?” Obyron paused. Zahndrekh? He should have been entertaining his guests. “Has something happened?”

“No, no. That feast was just growing interminably dull. Might I…come in?”

Obyron was not sure how to respond. “It is your ship, lord nemesor.”

After a pause the door slid open, revealing Zahndrekh, whose arms were folded. “I was trying to be polite,” he said as he crossed the threshold. “Now, what ever is the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“You always were a terrible liar, Obyron.” Zahndrekh let the door close, trapping them together in the low, gauss-green light. 

Obyron shifted, grateful that his height let him look over Zahndrekh’s head so their oculars would not meet. “I apologize for leaving. I should not have—”

“None of that.” Zahndrekh held his finger up to what would have been Obyron’s lips. “Please, don’t make me guess. Tell me. What is wrong?”

A flash of despair tinged with anger washed over Obyron’s engrams. Zahndrekh could not possibly understand. He refused to see the horrors of biotransference, so he could not comprehend the weight of what Obyron’s phalanx had lost. Obyron could never tell his lord that they had not simply died. He alone had watched his friends fade into pale imitations of themselves, be dragged across thousands of battles, only to expire. He could not even offer himself that comfort that they were finally at rest because without souls he was not sure if they were.

And then to have that thrown back in his face at a dinner party—

“Obyron!”

Zahndrekh grabbed his hand. Obyron realized he had clenched his fist hard enough to crack his necrodermis. Already it was repairing, but seeing that shook him. He should have had more control. He should not have been this affected.

“I—” he stammered. “I don’t know what—”

”Here, sit with me.”

Gently but firmly, Zahndrekh dragged him down until he was kneeling on the floor. Obyron felt his legs give out from under him, as if the flux had ceased flowing to his motor actuators. Grief and guilt burned his insides like acid. 

“I never mourned them,” Obyron gasped. “I brought them to their deaths, yet I never did anything to remember them.”

“Your phalanx?” Zahndrekh shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Obyron. I should never have let that insult slide. It went too far.”

Obyron wished he could say that he did not care. He had no right to care. But those words had hit too close to the truth. He had not known what to do on Doahht without Zahndrekh. And yet he had not been the one to suffer for his incompetence. 

“I was the one who failed you then,” Zahndrekh said. “I bear more responsibility for their loss than you.”

That was perhaps true in the strictest sense, although it did little to assuage his guilt. The more he dwelt on it, though, the more he realized it was not simply grief that disturbed him now. Because if he was like them, if they had not been so different…

“Why have I been spared all this time?” he whispered, finally acknowledging something he had not wanted to speak aloud for years. Though his living metal form was more advanced than most soldiers’, even elites, he did not have the enhancements of a lord. “What if I share their fate? What if I fade away?”

He looked into Zahndrekh’s oculars at last, afraid he would find confusion or pity. He saw neither. For a moment he thought he saw understanding, although he could not be sure. There was so much about his nemesor he did not comprehend even after all this time.

“My dear vargard,” Zahndrekh said. “I am sorry I did not see your pain. You have been my shield for so long, it is too easy to forget that you are not just steel. That there are parts of you that  need protecting as well.” 

Zahndrekh’s hand moved slowly along Obyron’s amor until it settled over the place where once his heart had been. There was nothing there now but machinery. But Obyron’s chest still ached and his mind still reeled. And his body still reacted to the nemesor’s touch. The shoulder where Zahndrekh rested his hand was the only part of him that felt warm. The only part that didn't feel ready to crumble under the weight of everything.

“What can I do to protect you?” Zahndrekh asked. “How can I ease your pain?”

It went against all propriety and protocol. But they were alone. Who would it hurt if Obyron allowed himself one small comfort.

“I feel lost,” Obyron said. “I just want to…”

”Yes?”

”Please,” he said. “Hold me, my lord. For a moment.”

Before Obyron could think better of it, pull away, beg his lord’s pardon, Zahndrekh’s arms were around him. They struggled to fully wrap around his broad shoulders, so Zahndrekh pulled him close, buried Obyron’s face in the crook of his neck. He imagined the time of flesh, when Obyron would have been able to weep. His tears would have stained Zahndrekh’s robes.

Obyron clung to him. The lord that he did not understand and who did not understand him in turn. But that did not stop Zahndrekh from being Obyron’s anchor. His love, though it terrified him to even think the word. Yet what could he call it but love that kept him at Zahndrekh’s side? If someone offered Obyron an empire in exchange for this moment in Zahndrekh’s arms, he would have laughed in their face. It wasn’t a choice.

Perhaps that was all love really was.

“Would you like to tell me about them?” Zahndrekh asked after a long period of silence. “The comrades you lost?”

It would feel good to remember. To speak their names and their deeds and prove in some small way that they had lived. To finally allow himself to grieve and know that he would be heard.

”Yes,” Obyron said. “I would like that.”

[malware-program]

So a little know fact about me is I role play (I am cringe, but I am free), and I recently got to get my partner to do a Suckening rp

And I’m a big fan of Shilo x Grefgore (what is their ship name?), and thought because of Shilos trauma he would have trouble saying “I love you” out right, so here I come with the metaphor

I noticed people use rose themes for Shilo (I am not fully caught up on The Suckening so I’m sure I’ll figure out why), so I used that!

Below you’ll see a scene we did between Shilo and Grefgore

(Image ID: a Discord screenshot of a conversation between Shilo and Grefgore. Shilo says “..even with my thorns?” And Grefgore responds “Even with your thorns.”)

How I personally view this is Shilo is asking if Grefgore will love him, even if he might hurt him accidentally

And Grefgore is replying that he’ll love him no matter what, because his beauty trumps all

I don’t know, I personally thought that it fit, especially for Shilo

[imu-chan]

As much as I love the ‘Rengoku is very flirty and showers Giyuu with hand kisses and shoulder squeezes and slowly warms him up to accepting affection etc etc’ concept, I am also obsessed with the idea of ‘Rengoku is SO proper and polite/gentlemanly at first because he doesn’t want to make Giyuu uncomfortable but one day Giyuu just links their arms or reaches out to play with a stray lock of hair while being still very cool and collected and Rengoku just goes RED’

[mcflyy-rules]

them.

[allisamemory]

4.2 Archon Quest Spoilers

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.

.

You know, chances if the cast were to find the slates sooner than they trialed Furina, do you think Neuvillette will start forbidding Furina from attending trials to prevent the prophecy from happening? Considering the entire thing with Childe, everyone else will be paranoid that Furina has a chance to be judged by the oratrice even if she’s not part of a trial.

And if that were to happen, what would Furina do? Would she followed what Neuvillette says because shes scared of the prophecy coming true? Or will she remember what Focalors said to her about a grand trial being her finale of some sort and plans herself to be judged guilty behind Neuvillette’s back?

Or maybe the traveler will recall their conversation with N and goes “wait maybe this is how we can prevent the prophecy” “by fulfilling it!?”

Edit: after some thinking, chances that Furina actually decide to plan herself to be judged guilty, she probably thought that she’ll be executed, as per the prophecy (she doesnt know that it was meant for Focalors, after all). But we all know Furina, she’ll do anything to save Fontaine… Even if it means sending herself to the guillotine

[livetoariel]

We’d finished two bottles of wine before and through dinner, and I was definitely feeling a little looser than I ever had in my mother’s house. I had picked at the plate of food I had in front of me, but I wasn’t feeling too hungry being back in this house. She cleared her throat loudly, trying to get me to look up at her.

I shifted my gaze slowly to her, scowling. A grumbly “What now?” Slipped out of my mouth.

She huffed loudly. “When are you going to give this fighting bullshit up? You look like a brute. You weren’t raised to be like this.”

I looked at her incredulously. “You don’t know how I was raised. You weren’t there. My father was the only one who took interest in how I was raised and he died. And you didn’t even care! He taught me to fight by the way, I didn’t pick this up somewhere else. You just never noticed.” I stood up abruptly, knocking my plate and wine glass over, spilling all down my front.

She also stood up, with a lot more grace, befitting an elf. “Look at you, Carquyn. You’re a mess. You’re nothing but a monster with no manners and no elegance. I’m ashamed of you. I would like it if you left and didn’t come back until you’ve sorted out how to be a good daughter.”

I grabbed the half bottle of wine, pushed my chair back and glowered at her, “I knew this would be a mistake, I’m not ever coming back here.” I turned on my heel and walked out the door into the sitting room to retrieve my shoes and get out of there as fast as I could.

I was about 20 feet out the door when Astarion caught up with me, silently falling into step beside me.

“Well, that was a lovely evening-” he started.

I just growled at him and his mouth shut with a click.

We walked the rest of the way back to our room at the inn in silence. I had pushed through the late evening crowd without so much a second glance. By the time we got into our room and the door closed, I was seething. I shucked off my wine stained clothes and threw them in a ball into the corner of the room. If I didn’t do something to release this anger soon I felt like I was going to erupt. I grabbed the wine bottle I had abandoned on the table and wound up, ready to throw it against the door, hoping it would shatter.

Astarion had my wrist before I could go through with the throw. I spun around and faced him, ready to yell at him for stopping me. He didn’t say anything, he just wrapped his free arm around me and held until I let him pry the bottle out of my hand.

A sob made its way up my chest and caught in my throat. “I’m not a monster,” I whispered. “I’m not a monster. I’m not. I’m not” I strangled out the words and the sobs started flowing freely. I let myself cling to Astarion, burying my face in his cold, silent chest.

“No, you aren’t. I would know,” Astarion said back. “I think we need to leave here soon, though. And avoid wine for a bit.” He stood there with me until I was ready to move. It took a while.