#Including her wife

[chaoticcutiewhirl]

Hey Have a song we cried from:

Like no joke, we cried full on for about an hour when we first listened to it, Sylvia was the one fronting at the time and immediately when our blood-family arrived home she decided to dip hard and kinda forced me to the front. I saw the song and thought "Oh hey this has a pretty thumbnail," saw we watched it and shrugged, and as soon as I started to listen again, I got hit with the hour at noon that Sylvia had. because of how this song resonated with us hard enough.

So if you don't know Sylvia and Avarstia are writers, they like to entertain and tell stories at heart, hell Avarstia is seemingly an introject from a story we are writing or developed as herself and inspired the stories. A Kindly Grim Reaper who would rather give comfort and respite than cause more pain to others, someone who wished for life could be better so much that when she recreated her universe (long story) she did it in a way that it elevated her to being the Death Goddess as well as Time and Winter, allowing her more of a watchful eye to aid when needed. Someone we wish we had when growing up due to the innate fear we generally have. This "home" we live in is not one for us as us, it is for our deadname, our idenity that is merely a set of masks as we can't consistenly play the same person, and its like the rest of our family are just masks too given we can't get the same reading on them, whether its because of us being plural or from their own ideas seeming almost contradictory. Sylvia is the one of us besides me who can go into a spiral very hard, for her its hoplessness in a depressive way, for me its often manic paranoia. and earlier she listened to the song and was reminded on how we wish we had someone like the Forest Spirit, a guardian who cared and could help us within their own power. We would be alone in this house but we would be less afraid, less anxious around every corner when being ourselves.

Even when listening now I tear up because of the same ressonance in us, of longing for a spirit or just anybody who could act on our behalf. Rowan and Avarstia in a way are close as the sort of protectors but Sylvia still holds them back as Rowan wants to be drastic and Avarstia ruthless. All we need is just a way to get away from here.

-Lucinda🌵 (Also maybe Avarstia💀 too atm, idk, I just know we generally want to write more when she is closer to the front.)

[fascinationstreetmp3]

ALICE

[dykesevika]

burnt out but I still wanted to try and draw her

Men DNI

DO NOT use or repost my art without credit/permission

[twifairy]

Absolutely fascinated by the personal connections Seishiro Jigoku has to the main TGAA cast like its actively insane

But Jigoku is someone Susato knows by name, and someone who is seemingly comfortable with her. Yujin was worried Susato might be recognized by Jigoku when even Rei couldn't recognize her immediately.

Jigoku is a family friend of Susato and Kazuma's. Like. That's the text. Do we get how close Jigoku and Yujin are? Not really specifically.

And then Kazuma. Yujin takes Kazuma in and Jigoku is close enough with Yujin that when Kazuma gets sent the letter about the Professor, he feels like the right answer is to go ask Judge Jigoku. Because if Yujin is too kind to tell him the truth, Judge Jigoku will do it.

But also Jigoku and Yujin's relationship.

Jigoku knew Yujin before the study tour. He was so worried about Yujin's well being when he was grieving Ayame that he dragged him along for the study tour (something he was already signed up to do, but was likely considering quitting, is how I read that)

I don't think saying Jigoku and Genshin were less close by the end of the study tour (if they were ever close at ALL) is a stretch. Genshin deliberately tells Yujin not to bring Jigoku when going to help Lady Baskerville, or to even mention it to him.

Yujin knows the identity of Klint van Zieks' daughter. Jigoku knows who killed Genshin Asogi. They both keep those secrets from each other for 10 years, on top of over 16 years of very close friendship.

That is a man who has had dinner at the Mikotoba family home many times. That is someone Yujin trusts with his children. We never see Yujin throw someone the way Susato does— Jigoku does it. The person handling most of the logistics of Kazuma's study tour is not Yujin, it is Jigoku.

Jigoku has been a family friend for a decade. It's possible Susato has known him all her life.

And with the knowledge that he killed Genshin Asogi, and that Yujin Mikotoba trusts him with his children, Seishiro Jigoku chooses to look at Kazuma and say "You seem like you would do anything to find out what happened to your father. Would you kill for it?"

He does not stop Kazuma from going. He does everything in his power to send Genshin's boy across the sea to kill for him, dangling the promise of answers in front of him, knowing damn well he is the one responsible for everything wrong in Kazuma's life.

[jaycecore]

so much potential in the concept of jayce and viktor’s wedding. for one, vi commandeering the bouquet toss by barreling through the crowd and diving for that thing like a fucking quarterback

[words-writ-in-starlight]

"Thank God this is the country where bribery can do anything" Jonathan Harker says, like half the dock workers in England aren't going to have to list him on their taxes as a major source of income

[camsuki]

trying to learn to love my body feat. Gale and Thorn 🥺

[haxzie]

its not funny how obsessed i am with these pictures

johnny is so silly and kenshi was a gangster you know?

[t1oui]

forever pushing my "draco malfoy has curly/wavy hair and he straightens it" agenda bc i love using appearance to fuel angst

it's the same thing w my "percy weasley has way curlier hair than his family" headcanon - it's something that makes him stand out. but unlike my percy who comes to embrace his differences, what about draco who tries to hide his?

draco, who has the malfoy hair color but whose hair curls like that of everyone else in the black family. draco, who sees lucius's distaste for his natural hair not looking "malfoy enough" and decides to do something about it. narcissa's hair still curls, but not as much as it did in old pictures of her, because narcissa doesn't do anything she doesn't want to unless she thinks it could benefit her. and distancing herself from her birth family is a benefit.

neither of draco's parents say anything about his hair, but draco sees the smile on his father's face when he straightens it the first time, and so he never stops. no wonder he's known for taking an hour to get ready every morning.

i could expand on this whole thing even more by adding my "draco and narcissa both have flecks of amber in their eyes bc narcissa is a rosier". imagine draco straightening the curls out of his hair and wearing contacts from a young age to keep anyone from seeing anything but malfoy in him. imagine him doing this for years and years, all the way until adulthood, when someone - astoria or blaise or whoever you ship with draco - finally comes along and appreciates how he looks without having to put all that effort in. imagine, over time, the hair-straightening charms and gels and potions and the colored contacts collecting dust in the bathroom cabinet as he finally finds confidence in his appearance.

and imagine narcissa finally taking the charms that turn her curls into waves. imagine her taking off the charms that make the amber flecks in her eyes invisible. imagine draco looking in the mirror and seeing someone who isn't just a malfoy, but a black and a rosier too. seeing someone who isn't just his father's son but his mother's.

and adding even more onto this, luna. luna, whose mother was a rosier and a cousin of naricssa. luna, who has blonde hair and amber-flecked blue eyes that are shaped just like narcissa and draco's, who smiles just like they do when they're alone and not performing for anyone. luna, who's had curly hair like her mum did her whole life. luna and draco, who have known of their relation since they were young, finally seeing their similarities and being unashamed of showing them off.

and to add one more thing, teddy. teddy, whose mother and grandmother didn't get the rosier traits like draco and narcissa did, but whose eyes naturally turn a little more amber when draco's around. whose hair curls just a little bit more whenever he's with the malfoys.

of course there's scorpius too. scorpius, whose hair is just wavy and whose eyes are mostly grey, but who never, ever feels the need to hide it. because even if it's not until scorpius is nearly out of hogwarts that draco is confident with how he looks, draco makes sure his son never feels the shame he did.

i really could go on forever about this, so i might as well end it here.

[armand-dearest]

Katherine of Aragon is one of my favourite historical figures ever and I honestly feel so mad on her behalf every time I think of her fuck-ass second husband.

Imagine you marry at 15 to another child your own age of whom you can only communicate via written Latin with, and then you both get sick and he dies, your marriage unconsummated. Then you have to marry his little brother - and you have a much more legitimate lineage than he does. So you're married off to him in order to make this guy's claim to the English throne legit. Without you, his legitimacy would be disputed. He wouldn't be shit without you.

Anyway, you're married to this guy for 20 years. In that time, you give him a daughter and have about 4 miscarriages / still births. You rule England on his behalf as "Governor of the Realm and Captain General" while he's off fighting a war in France, and during which you assist in winning a war against Scotland for him (while heavily pregnant), all the while pioneering women's educational rights and trying to help the poor.

And how does this fuck-ass man repay your grace, decorum, determination and spirit? By serially cheating on you and throwing a middle finger to your sacred faith to anull your marriage, and cause the entire country to split from your religion, all so he could shack up with a woman he only spent THREE YEARS married to before he killed her anyway. In doing so, he also essentially questions your virtue, sister-zones you, and implies you lied about not consummating the marriage with your first husband / his older brother. Basically, slandering you to hell and back. During all this, he prevents you from seeing or even writing letters to your own daughter. I'd be raging. And she did rage - but with so much fucking grace she was considered a martyr by many at the time.

Thomas Cromwell, who very much did not like Katherine, even had this to say for her: "If not for her sex, she could have defied all the heroes of History."

[kirby-the-gorb]

[bolly--quinn]

The craziest part of the episode to me is the ice cream table exchange about Beth tbh like Morty truthfully believes that Rick would say

“This may as well be our real daughter because she’s just as real as you.”

and

“Put it this way. You’re all basically NPCs. Only Morty and I are real, so your side quests don’t matter. The main quest is us.” (referring to he and Diane exclusively)

And when Diane, rightfully, combats him for his thinking with

“You’re disgusting. You’re talking about our baby girl like she’s theoretical?”

Beth throws in “Welcome to the family.”

Which might be one of the most heartbreaking lines in the whole thing to me because Morty has observed Rick enough to believe that this line of thinking is entirely in character for not only Rick but for the rest of the family too. Like Morty truly believes that Rick doesn’t care about them in anyway and that when faced with this, even Beth would just respond with the belief that this is the norm, at least from Rick anyway. So much so, that he uses an outside character in Diane to call out how insane it is.

Morty believes that Rick only cares about Diane and literally everyone else doesn’t matter and that’s just so sad to me, especially when we have seen otherwise but he can’t be faulted for thinking that when Rick carries that facade with him almost always, and especially to Morty directly.

[remembrancersticky]

I had a shower epiphany a few weeks ago and have just been working on cranking out this oneshot. Oh, I had so much fun with this. Thanks to @squishyowl for the dividers! They are very pretty!

You get dragged along for a fishing trip, scent a space wolf, and he carves your name onto his (metaphorical?) heart. Fenrysian is just Norwegian here for the sake of simplicity. Very fluffy given this is 40k. TW for hunting, non-sexual nudity, and cannon-typical violence. Asmundr art here and here.

Space Wolf OC(Asmundr) x Serf!Fem!Reader - SFW - 2.8k Words

The world of Silġ was not the coldest you had ever been to. But it was still the thickest part of winter on this side of the planet, and you could feel the moisture of your breath catch and freeze against your eyelashes when the wind shifted.

You waddled behind the three wolves you served today, waylaid by the heaviest furs and boots you owned and the sled-cart you pulled along behind you. The blizzard that had raged for the last month ended a few days ago, though the warp storm that trapped your ship here had not. The sky still sputtered out a sporadic scattering of snow, powdering the dense ice on which you tread.

The three in front of you wore no more than training armor and pelt. You were envious of their enhanced thermo-regulation as you flexed your fingers to stave off the chill that had seeped through your thick mittens.

“Here,” the venerable veteran, Ægir, announced, stabbing his chainsword into the ice.

You slowed as you caught up to the group and looked about. You were the only thing besides flat ice for several kilometers in any direction.

“Finally!”

The youngest, Asmundr, was not known to keep his opinions to himself at the best of times. He was brash and stubborn in every aspect of his life. He was the one that insisted you join them on this venture.

The company and ship’s crew were trapped on Silġ until the warp storm passed. You had already been stuck more than several weeks and many of the younger warriors were antsy for activity beyond their regular training. And, while rations were not depleted, it did no harm to secure supplementary provisions while they were available. Ergo, the Wolf Lord had allowed the formation of a few small hunting parties.

While you assisted the entire pack as your services were needed, Asmundr had all but named you as his personal serf. Not that he had asked anyone in particular, nor would he ever be granted a personal serf given his rank and status if he had. He was simply dogged in requesting your time, specifically. Not that you minded spending so much time with him; he had grown on you quite a bit, and you enjoyed the stories he would regale you with as you cared for his armor.

And so, here you were. Accompanying the small expedition on their fishing trip. You had given up on getting an explanation for exactly what you were meant to do beyond ferry equipment or attend to whatever unfavorable task may arise. Frankly, it was simply a nice change of pace from the monotony of the last few weeks, nice to be away from the stagnant air of the ship, and you were thankful to have been allowed to attend.

Hodr swiped his boot along the ground to disturb the thick layers of snow and reveal the solid ice beneath. Though not as old as Ægir, the scars upon his face told a story of numerous battles fought with unfettered ferocity. He was cold, stoic, but on occasion you glimpsed something wild lurking deep within his eye.

After stomping solidly on the ice without so much as a crack, Hodr gave a nod to Ægir, who activated his chainsword.

Still stuck in the ice, the blade began throwing up shards of ice and compact snow. You turned slightly and covered your face with a mitten to prevent anything from lodging in your eyes. You felt the pitter patter of debris against your form suddenly disappear. Looking up, it seemed Asmundr unthinkingly shifted his position to effectively shield you from the onslaught.

“Mortal,” Hodr called, as the roar of the sword died down. “Bring the pick and shovel.”

You pulled the tools from the sled and made your way to the hole-in-progress. In order to support the weight of three space marines (and especially the earlier stomping), the ice was undoubtedly thick. This pass with the chainsword had not even been close to reaching the water below. Hodr reached down to grapple with the large slab of ice that had been cut away while you worked on extricating the smaller shards. Once the site was cleared, Asmundr gently pulled you a step back as Ægir began his next series of cuts. This process repeated three times before a sufficient opening was formed.

Standing, you wiped the snow off of your knees and pushed the ice shards nearest the opening away with your boot. Suddenly, you felt something thick and heavy land across your back and weigh down on your shoulders. You were almost embarrassed about the surprised yelp you let out, but it was worth it to hear the youngest of the wolves let out a full bellied laugh.

“I trust you to keep this warm for me, vennen min!” Asmundr’s voice bounced with mirth behind you. You rearranged the large pelt he had thrown on you as you turned to face him. And quickly decided to look anywhere else as he undressed to the fullest extent possible.

“O-Of course, my lord.” You elected to keep your head pointed towards the sky as you extended your hands to take the remainder of his clothes. You could clearly hear the other two wolves snickering behind the sound of blood rushing through your ears. It did not seem nearly as cold out as it did just a few minutes ago.

Asmundr placed the wad of clothes in your hands with a smirk before leaning into the sled to fetch his polespear.

“Be ready, brother,” Ægir said as he nudged Hodr bodily. “You’ll have to make up the pup’s slack.”

The young pup bristled in agitation before he sharply pivoted on his brothers with a note of forced laughter. Coincidentally, you suddenly received a full view of all his glory.

“Ha! Afraid you’re not gonna be able to keep up, old man?”

You forced your eyes not to wander below his ribs, which was very difficult as he stood with his chest puffed out and fists confidently resting on his hips. Your face felt so hot that you thought the ice would melt under your feet and swallow you whole.

Despite your years in service to the Vlka Fenryka, you doubted that you’d ever understand just how…comfortable they seemed to be in their plain skin. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact they were Astartes, specifically. You’d imagine it would be difficult to feel vulnerable in any state with the physique of one of the Emperor’s Angels.

“Worried that you’ll drive the best game away in your haste.” Hodr’s voice sounded suddenly closer than you anticipated. Your heart jumped when you felt his hand reach around from behind you, lifting your chin to look Asmundr in the eyes and gently squishing your cheeks together. “It just won’t do if there isn’t enough to go around.” The narrowing of the younger wolf’s pupils was almost hidden by the steam billowing from his flared nostrils. “We can’t have thralls of skin and bone.” His whisper tickled your ear, sending a shiver shooting up your spine.

“I do not leave her wanting,” Asmundr snarled, closing the distance and gripping Hodr’s wrist tightly. You could hear something creak beneath your chin, but the grip on your face never tightened.

“Prove it.” You could hear Hodr’s grin as he finally released you.

Oh, something in Asmundr’s eyes sparked as he threw his brother’s hand away. He spared you a brief glance as he squared his shoulders and quickly cracked his neck.

“Time me!” Asmundr yelled back to Ægir as he raced to the opening and jumped into the abyss.

The air was pregnant with silence for a moment.

“Well,” Ægir laughed, rough and gravelly, “He should be plenty motivated now!”

Ten minutes. It had already been ten minutes.

A space marine could hold his breath for approximately twenty-five minutes, or so you’d been told.

You had heard from one of the company’s Kaerls that she had once heard a story of a chapter that regularly held their breath for the better part of a standard hour. You thought it sounded a bit outlandish, but you prayed now it was true as the minutes continued ticking on.

The first several minutes were spent in a bit of an awkward silence. Or, at least, you felt it was awkward. You busied yourself by meticulously folding Asmundr’s clothes and running an inventory of the little equipment in the sled before cleaning the hole of any lingering debris. You noted that Hodr’s gaze seemed to return the distant tree line frequently while Ægir whittled away on a piece of bone.

“It’s been ten minutes.” The booming voice of the veteran seemed to rattle through your chest, and you nearly lost your footing at the sudden announcement.

 The undignified sound you made as you recovered your stance drew a chuckle from the eldest wolf.

“I’m curious,” Ægir said, pointing his knife in your direction. “What do you suppose the pup’s hunting for right now?”

You stared blankly at him.

“Fish, my lord?”

That veteran laughed, tried to control himself, and began laughing some more before he started coughing.

“You’re not wrong, thrall,” he conceded. You watched a flock of dark birds chitter and flee their roost in the distance. So far away they were like a smear against the sky.

“You know,” he started back up, dropping his gaze to return to the bone figure he was making. “I was out on campaign with the pup.” A thin flake fell away from his hands. “And it was fierce, to be sure. Well, while we were holed up in some throne-forsaken pit, the daft boy starts singing. Badly, mind you, and quiet, but singing nonetheless. And so, I ask him ‘Boy, what do you think you’re doing?’” Ægir looked up and you realized that you’d thoughtlessly drifted closer as the veteran continued. “And do you know what he tells me?”

“No, my lord.”

“He says, ‘Well, that little serf sings this when she’s in the armory, and I thought maybe it would help me focus.’” Another flake fell from his hand as he scoffs, “Focus, my missing big toe.”

Ægir looked like he was about to continue, loudly, but shut his mouth and looked past you a moment before you heard it.

A loud wet thwacking noise echoed across the empty plane and time seemed to pass slower than usual as you saw a vibrant, gleaming, blue fish that could rival the stature of terminator power armor surge out of the icy depths and caress the grey sky, before making its arched decent like an angry torpedo with needlepoint teeth.

You hadn’t survived this long in such a cruel galaxy without any wits at all, and ran to give the beast a wide berth upon its impact with the surface. Its furiously flailing body splashed little droplets of water against your form, which froze solid in the cold air.

“Ha! No wonder he likes you so much,” Ægir ribbed at you, as he seamlessly stabbed the wriggling thing through the back of its head, piercing whatever brain it could have. “You scurry about like ei lita kanin!”

The burning retort that had definitely been on the tip of your tongue was tragically cut short by a sudden series of muted vibrations that traveled up your legs. Something was hitting the ice…

Your feet were moving before you could think. What help could you realistically offer Asmundr from here? You could not dive into the freezing water, you could not drag him back to safety, you could not even pull his body up onto shore without dislocating your shoulder in the attempt. But you knelt stupidly by the hole anyways; you had to be as close to his side as possible, in case he needed you. Because you would do all those useless things if he so much as hesitated in telling you not to.

Not long after, the surface of the water began bursting with bubbles of air from the depths, bringing with them deep oily blood. You called out to him, as if he would be able to hear you meters away and underwater.

“Mundi! Are you okay?!”

Time seemed to drag on for an eternity as the bubbling died down and the water remained still.

You had just started to loosen the straps of your outermost layers to dive in yourself when a crimson streak began racing towards the surface. You could feel your heart fall back into place.

Asmundr’s red hair clung to his forehead and neck as he beamed at you in pride. Or, as best he could.

The spear he lifted out of the water held four native fish, each easily as long as your arm and thicker around than both of your thighs. A massive bony fish with pearlescent armor still wiggled in his maw, cracked where his fangs dug tightly into its flesh. He threw the spear up onto the ice before hefting his bulk out of the hole.

Sitting on the ledge of the ice beside you, he pulled the fish from his teeth. His smug smile showcased the gleaming red that clung to his canines and dripped down his chin. He glanced about briefly before his expression morphed into one of confusion.

“Where’s Hodr?”

Oh. You hadn’t even noticed he’d left.

“Not far,” Ægir said. “He picked up a scent while you were out.”

“Are you okay, Mundi?” You had been keenly looking him over for any obvious injuries he may have sustained since he surfaced. He didn’t seem any worse for wear, but maybe he just rammed the ice with his thick head. You stood up to get a better look. “It sounded like you hit the ice pretty hard.”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t near the ice at all.” Rivulets of water trickled down Asmundr’s body, his core temperature just enough to keep the water from freezing against his skin in the cold air. “Are you sure you’re not the one that hit the ice?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed by his teasing tone. You were just relieved that he was okay.

Asmundr’s gaze turned sharply from you to the horizon at a noise you could not hear.

“Finally done batting that pest around, Hodr?”

You turned towards Ægir’s call and watched as Hodr dragged along an enormous, white-feathered land-shark behind him.

“Six minutes,” the wolf bellowed, shaking the leg of his kill. “How long was the pup?”

“Thirteen minutes!”

Something rumbled deep in Asmundr’s chest at the veteran’s announcement and he huffed in irritation. If you hadn’t just been willing to throw yourself into the icy void after your companion out of shear worry, you would have found his pouting cute.

“Mundi,” you started softly as he plopped himself away from his brothers to work on his kills. He did not look up. He was still wet and bare and the wind was still so cold and you did not think you could handle the implausible thought of him catching a chill.

“Mundi, you need to dry off,” you chided as you unwrapped the outermost fur you wore from your waist. It would be warmer and drier than the one he placed on your shoulders, which had kept you plenty warm, but also collected a non-insignificant amount of flurries.

He grumbled something as he continued to work on dislodging his kills from the spear.

You pursed your lips before running the fur across his shoulders and up his neck, before tousling his hair the best you could. You left the fur draped across his shoulders, which he gripped closed across his chest with one hand. He remained incredibly tense before in-taking sharply and shaking his upper body vigorously. You did not escape the resulting splatter.

He tilted his head back to look you in the eyes, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you recognized amusement and joy in them.

“I’m keeping this!” Asmundr announced, sounding very pleased. “But you have to hold onto this,” he tugged slightly at the pelt that still engulfed the entirety of your upper body, “for me, in return.”

The request turned something in your chest.

“Of course,” you agreed, and you couldn’t help the smile on your lips.

 He smiled up at you in turn, his eyes softening as his gaze lingered. In that moment, it felt as if something in the universe had clicked into place. After a few seconds, he abruptly looked back down and dragged the armored fish over to him.

“And,” he drew the word out for a long moment, as he began carving familiar runes into the pearlescent plating with his spear. “You need to make good use of this.” He passed you the fish barring your name, and you had to steel yourself to keep from tumbling under the weight of it.

[stinkybrowndogs]

A really fun commission I finished before Christmas!

[illmoraineakoi]

Fic where through Rocket Corp Shenanigans and/or Orange Power Craziness, the Color Gang, TCO and Victim all get spat out into the human world, where Alan then has to reveal to his wife that surprise! Living stick figures are real, he's made living stick figures, two of them don't like him, and one of those two is actively trying to kill him, while the other five see him as their Dad.

All while trying, and just barely succeeding, in wrangling a very ferally angry Victim who is trying his hardest to inflict great bodily harm onto Alan despite Alan being literally five times his size while the others are panicking trying to figure out how to help. Except for TCO, who is just WAITING for Alan accidentally drop Victim so he can return the favor of the Box beatdown.

And Kaori, who Alan never told that his animations were based on real events and real living stick figures, is just sitting there watching this lunacy like this:

[gaywatch]

Heyyyyy could anyone else stand to have life calm down just a bit just for a sec just for a treat just for fun