#Sorry to clog the tag lol

[stargloom]

ignore the fourth image i needed to format + i dont want to draw anything else

[livingdeadhorse]

haiii:333 can u draw chishimondo trio with wombats pls ^.^ ???

mb I didn't know if you meant the wombat animal or the plush itself!!

vote 4 mondo and I draw 4 you

[bvckbiter]

Sorry to make you guys choose 🤣 This is just for fun and my own curiosity! Ship wank in tags or comments will be blocked, reblogs to get this poll around are appreciated <3

Options and order were taken from the top 12 Alabaster ships on ao3. My tally is below the cut:

1. Ethan/Alabaster - 85

2. Nico/Alabaster - 26

3. Percy/Alabaster - 25

4. Annabeth/Alabaster - 6

5. Chris/Alabaster - 6

6. Bryce/Octavian/Ethan/Alabaster - 6

7. Percy/Ethan/Alabaster - 6

8. Annabeth/Percy/Alabaster - 5

9. Luke/Alabaster - 4

10. Jason/Alabaster - 3

11. Silena/Alabaster - 3

12. Rachel/Alabaster - 2

13. Bryce/Alabaster - 2

14. Ellis Wakefield/Alabaster - 2

15. Nico/Percy/Alabaster - 2

16. Rachel/Ethan/Alabaster - 1

17. Phobos/Alabaster - 1

18. Octavian/Alabaster - 1

19. Nico/Ethan/Alabaster - 1

20. Nico/Percy/Ethan/Alabaster - 1

21. Nico/Octavian/Alabaster - 1

[blamemma]

miss blamemma, please could you detail what you think happened between michael and daniel for the rest of us that are obsessed with the drama?!

i truly wish i could just upload the voicenotes i've sent to the besties today about this because that would be SO much easier but ok here we go....

i don't think there is one cataclysmic event that led them to fall out, i think it's an amalgamation of a couple of things.

privacy and money; michael loves popularity, loves money, loves business, loves social media, montesises his drivers (he's doing that now with his reels of yuki as well). there has to come a point, for me, where that crosses the boundaries of your role as a trainer. as a trainer, you have to be there for your driver, your driver is your number one priority. if that driver no longer feels they can trust you, then you are not doing your job. michael going on multiple podcasts and dropping tidbits about daniel's life and training and difficulties here and there is not a good look, and i think of the most telling is that testosterone article. michael worked with daniel for the last 5 years so people are going to presume that it is about daniel and on the back of that i saw multiple articles that were headlined something along the fucked up lines of "daniel ricciardo's trainer reveals he broke sex ban with hot young girlfriend heidi berger" (here & here and there are definitely more examples!) and daniel is a relatively private guy about his relationship so having that blasted everywhere cause ur ex-trainer talked about male hormones?? and then yeah u have that podcast thing today....

i have no proof, but i truly believe that michael wanted daniel to take the haas or williams seat so that he (michael) could stay in f1 because again, being in this prestigious sports gets him followers and engagement = money. therefore, when daniel went to him for advice michael may not have been open and willing to daniel's idea of a sabbatical, because it didn't really mean employment for michael (to caveat here, not having job security is a very daunting thing, and i am not saying michael is wrong for worrying about this, however, michael is paid and contracted by daniel and i dont think daniel would have been paying him a cheap wage these past 5 years)

i think daniel has had the time to step away from mclaren, process what happened there, enter red bull again and see how they manage their drivers, move to alpha tauri and see how they manage and speak about their drivers and then truly assess and process the year that last year was. whether you believe michael was foundational in daniel's issues last year or not, he was in control of his diet and exercise regime and his general health and we can all clearly see that deteriorated over the mclaren period and it may be daniel has now stepped away, assessed, talked to some fellow drivers like max (who then stuck up for him in that press conference when michael was brought up, hence why i think he spoke to max about) and how they get on with their trainers and thought hmmmm michael wasn't like that

other factors include michael being very close and friendly with mclaren engineers and social media people (again, valid, you want to get on with the people you work with, but again, your priority should be daniel especially in a tumultuous team like that!) & michael constantly saying he wanted to bigger than daniel, even to the point he started training his neck so that he could say he had a bigger neck than daniel....weird behaviour when you're meant to be motivating ur driver, not ultimately trying to beat them when they're already down in the dumps???

this is genuinely all conjecture and theories and i have no evidence for any of the shit i am spouting here but i am just going on the info we have and the things we have seen and trying to connect dots....

[edennill]

Lil Sis is currently pestering me about: "how does elves leaving the Halls even work" and "do they have boardgames or something to pass the time" and "why can't Fëanor just smash a window and break out?"

[impactdial]

thinking about childhood friends sanuso au again because i was talking on twt about it but i'm really, really fond of the idea of usopp "recruiting" sanji to be apart of his pirate crew and becomes first mate of the usopp pirates and they eventually do go out adventuring together when they're older and of course sanji is very protective of his captain (as any first mate is).

when they eventually do join the strawhats, sanji makes a point to tell luffy "listen, you may be my captain now, but Longnose over there was my captain first" and usopp gets so embarrassed about it ("cmon sanji we were just kids....that doesnt technically count!") but he's also really happy he's still got his best friend because he did have the fear of sanji getting upset with him for "giving up" being the captain of his own crew.

[javierduffy]

starting to get restless so i'm going to the gym now but have this javieran wippy in the meantime cux i miss posting here

[4thelneyj0nes]

guys today is BBC Sherlock's 13th birthday

[chimerahyperfix]

Run down your list. You are currently on your way to intercept the King, before he gets to the house. Whenever he gets there, it’s a bloodbath; metaphorically and physically. How many more times do you have to see everyone get frozen? See the King smash those who stand before him? You can’t see it again, you can’t you can’t you can’t, so you sneak out to face him instead. If he can’t get to the House, no one has to die, right? Simple as that. The endless night of his approach hangs right over Dormont, so you have to catch him, NOW.

You make a pit-stop at the Favor Tree anyway. It’s tradition at this point.

You did… something, here. Before you started looping. The hypothesis is that whatever you did at the Favor Tree caused the time loop you’re trapped in. You know you wished, a ton— at least ten times, or maybe twenty? All in as many different ways you could think of. Stretching outside the realm of how you know to wish. The desperation drove you to doing random things in hopes it would save you, and— well, it kinda has? You’ve doomed yourself for everyone else’s sakes.

That’s all well and fine enough, you rationalize. One person for many. Who knows what’ll happen if he actually takes the House; you don’t want to find that answer out.

The Favor Tree is huge. It’s a nice tree, lots of leaves, lots of shade. You could probably climb into its branches and never leave, get trapped in a web of tree bark and leaves like a cage, birds and squirrels and other such animals as your jailers. Maybe that wouldn’t be too bad. You could try that, next loop, if you failed here. You know you’ll fail, because nothing has worked so far. Your mind flashes with images of blood-stained floors, of screams both by and for many, many people. Hands reaching to you, hands reaching out.

Breathe. The memory fades away. Your hands curl into fists.

You depart, to fight the King. To stop the King.

———————

The King is very tall. A couple stories high, you’d reckon. He towers over you, the trees and everything else. The clearing you’ve stopped him in is very close to the House. Too close for comfort. Shouldn’t have stopped at the tree. Everything is swamped with the scent of burnt sugar.

He looks down at you— do you look like an ant to him? One singular ant? Wouldn’t that be interesting. A single blockade to the anthill, standing its ground. One mistake and he’ll turn you into a dark stain, or an icy statue. One mistake is all it’ll take for him to rip through the House like paper.

The Craft Bomb is heavy in your pocket. The backup potions, seven or eight of them, all in little tossable vials, toxic and burning and acidic, weigh down the other pocket of your lab coat. You remember drinking at least three of them. They all killed you. Painfully. Curse your desk for not being clean before you started looping. If you’d just taken a few minutes before you wished, so many deaths would’ve been avoided…

But that’s not important now. The fire in your throat, as imagined as it is now, still hurts. Your voice has taken an odd rasp to it now, the consequences of toxicity and blind reaching for water forever etched into your very being.

“How have you done it?” The King asks. You can’t see his eyes, past his endless, wild mane of hair and his gauntlets covering his face, but he sounds both confused and enraged.

You don’t answer, instead brandishing the bomb you worked so hard on. You made it in record pace, this loop. It too reeks of caramel.

The King simply moves a hand. You know what’s coming, and you move before he does. The curse of being so, so tall, is that you’re faster. The bomb goes flying, and you toss the potions all in one go for good measure before skittering out of the way. The King lunges for you as the bomb explodes, sending waves of fire and craft energy everywhere. Blinding, deafening. Its force knocks you to the ground.

He still moves, though. Not enough. Damn. Maybe you need two bombs… do you have the materials for a second one? You hope, as he swings his giant gauntlet down onto you to mash you like a bug, that he sees the weird shade your eyes have taken lately. A pair of blaring, dangerous warning signs.

You’re not scared anymore. This has happened many times.

You still scream.

His attack hits, and through the veil of absolute agony, there’s a tug on your stomach. Back to the drawing board.

[pokemonpo]

the madohomu thing i drew that I’ve crossposted on several platforms so many times im sure people are sick of it already but I want to consolidate my madohomu stuff in one place so here it is again lol :’)) This time with a never posted before bonus- a non-cropped unedited version of the og for fun

[ternterntern0]

gift art for my friend who is very nice to me

[nezu3kun]

dracula pomeranian...? pomeracula?

[albino-parakeet]

JWCT SPOILERS UNDERCUT

I’m laughing so hard at the fact that the other members of Camp Fam do NOT believe Ben has a “girlfriend”. AND NEITHER DO I BECAUSE WHY DID HE PULL THE WHOLE “OH SHE GOES TO A DIFFERENT SCHOOL/LIVES IN A DIFFERENT COUNTRY” THING.

Darius: Where is she from?

Ben: She lives in uhhh… Europe?

Off handed mentions this girlfriend twice and everyone is just serious doubt. Like same guys. His ass is not convincing.

Also one of my favorite poses Ben does. He looks genuinely hurt at the thought of Yaz and Sammy splitting. Same bro.

[wyrdle]

mariku brain rot stronk lol

Shuji gets a therapist years too late lol 😂 I think Shuji and Takuto have many parallels, even if ideologically the way they respond to the world's injustice is completely different lol.

[elliott-the-creature]

(Please reblog this to get a bigger sample size, I was dumb and forgot to change the time limit to a week)

[sneakyblinders]

your mother, the enchantress.

A/N: ok this is the cute idea I had about Tommy and his babies. Not gonna lie got kinda emotional writing it. it's so fluffy lol warnings: not canon, fluff. major fluff. like tooth rotting fluff. a part of my tommy and his darling wife au. enjoy &lt;3 also im a huge fan of a good slowed down & verbed song and i think taylor swifts enchanted goes pretty good with this. I take no credit for the gif, I just think this is how he would look during Peter's speech. <3

You had finally finished a phone conversation with your mother. A long, arduous conversation about how vitally important getting the right tutor for Peter was. You, of course, understood the levity of Peter receiving an education, and after much discussion between you and your husband, you'd had to relent and let your husband have his way: the children would be educated at home by a private tutor. Peter was five, and Katherine had just turned two. Thomas had interviewed several more than qualified candidates for the position, but none seemed to suit your husbands unreasonably high standards. "Thomas, love," you'd tried talking to him one evening. "No one will be perfect--" He cut you off. "We need to get as close to perfect as we can, my Darling. He needs the finest education." You roll your eyes. "Which he would get if he were to go to a private school. You could have twenty-four hour protection there if you wanted." He ground his teeth together, jaw locked tight. "My decision is final." And that had been that.

When you exited the home office and found the halls oddly quiet, you assumed that Thomas had let Frances go to bed, and you remembered that Sara had asked for the evening off. You walked down the hallway towards the faint sound of voices in the library. You could hear Katherine and Peter giggling, and you had to wonder what they could be giggling about. Your mind rushed to they had gotten into something while Tommy had his back turned for a minute, but when you pushed the door to the library open slightly, you were pleasantly surprised with what you saw.

Thomas was seated on the floor with the children, his legs crossed, in just his undershirt and suit pants, suspenders hanging down to his waist, dress shirt folded neatly over the back of the sofa. He had a deck of cards in front of them, and they were selecting random cards from the deck. Thomas would close his eyes as they plucked cards from the deck, holding them in their small hands, giggling as Tommy raised his eyebrows, eyes still shut. "Daddy, what card do I have?" Peter asked. Tommy made a contemplative face before saying, "Mm, it's a three of hearts," and Peter let out a little shriek. "He's magic, Katherine!" Peter laughed, showing the two of them his card, which was a three of hearts. Thomas repeated this trick with Katherine, who asked for her brothers help in knowing how many spades were on her card. And your husband correctly guessed again, an eight of spades. "Okay, okay, children," Tommy said, pulling them both by the legs close to him, as they giggled, their bottoms dragging on the carpet. "Let me tell you a story, about a witch!" they giggled as he pulled them into his sides. He positioned them facing the fireplace, their backs against the bottom of the sofa, curling into their father. Your heart began to melt in your chest as he began telling them a fairytale about a witch who cast a spell on an unknowing peasant boy, and they fell in love. "Ew, love!" Peter wrinkled his nose. "Aah, my boy," Tommy said, "One day you will love love, as I do." he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your sons head. "Like you love mother?" Peter said, ice blue eyes looking up at his father. "Yes," Tommy said, a soft smile on his face. "Like I love mother." You leaned against the door slightly, causing it to creak open, their attention shifting to your position in the doorway. "Mama!" Katherine said, eyes lighting up despite her sleepiness. You blushed under Tommy's loving gaze. "Hi, sweet pea," you coo, walking towards where they sat on the floor. "You're sleepy, hm?" you asked her, sitting next to them in front of the fire. "Can we sleep with you tonight, Mama?" Katherine asked, her dark eyes looking up at you. You glance at Tommy for a minute, who shoots you a look. He loved his children more than life, but loathed when they slept in bed with the two of you. They slept in such precarious positions, and he felt as though he couldn't move all night for fear of waking them. And they always slept in the middle of you two, which didn't allow him the opportunity to pull you close whenever he wanted. "Not tonight, lovebug," you tell her, as she shuffles over to you, sitting in your lap, head against your chest. "Maybe we can all have a cuddle in the morning, hm?" "Okay." her little voice said, dejected. You shoot your husband a pitiful look, to which he shakes his head softly, a smile playing on his lips. "Alright, shall we take you off to bed?" you ask. "I'll put Peter to bed," Tommy tells you, as your son begins to doze off, head in his fathers lap, warm from the fire.

You take Katherine up the steps to her bedroom. You'd just had it painted a light yellow color, making the room sunny day or night. You helped her out of her dress and shoes and into her nightgown. She had just begun sleeping in her "big girl bed", and was very proud of herself for sleeping all through the night the last few nights without waking you or Sara due to being scared. You had tucked her in and were reaching for her favorite stuffed toy, a little stuffed horse Tommy had gotten her for her first birthday. She'd carried it with her everywhere since, and she couldn't sleep without it now. "Goodnight, horsey," you said softly, tucking the stuffed toy in with her, under her arm. "Goodnight, sweet girl," you tell her, kissing her forehead. "'Night 'night, Mama." she said breathily, eyes fluttering closed. You switched off the lights in her room before closing the door softly and padding down the hallway to your room, where Tommy was waiting for you.

He sat in the chair by the window, smoking, eyeing the horses in the fields on the side of the house. You came up alongside him, a hand on his shoulder. "Hello, my love." he said, voice deep with fatigue. "Hello, handsome," you tell him, reaching down and pressing a kiss to his temple. He smiles slightly, turning towards you. He holds his arms open, a signal for you to sit with him. You sit on his lap and his arms circle around you. He breathes deeply, he's happy. "You're such a good father," you tell him, nuzzling your face in his neck, pressing a kiss where your lips land. He sighed. "I try, my love." Fatherhood had not come naturally to Tommy, much to his dismay. He admired how you had taken to being a mother, and tried to mimic your behaviors with the children. Sometimes he succeed, but most times he struggled. Struggled with staving off his selfishness, his need to have things his way or no way. Struggled to be patient with his children, who were still learning how to express themselves and learning how to process emotion. He wanted his children to have better than he did, and already they had much better circumstances than he and his siblings did when they were his age. They had parents who were crazy about one another, a beautiful home, food on the table and clothes on their backs. Anything they wanted, he would go to the ends of the earth to get. But he wanted to be there. And with his work, it was often difficult to be there. He knew Polly did the best she could with five children to raise, none of them being her own, and he was forever grateful for her and her sacrifices she made, but he knew that nothing would ever replace the presence of the parent. "Your story tonight was lovely," you tell him, smiling against his neck as he rubbed soothing circles into your back. "It was a true story," he said, stubbing his cigarette out. "Oh?" you ask, sitting up and looking at him. "Our children don't know their mother is an enchantress," he said, a naughty smile crossing his features. "A witch," he whispered, cupping the back of your neck with his hands, moving your face close to his. "Who put her love spell on me," he smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. "Made me fall so desperately in love with her," he breathed, kissing you again. "Why me, I'll never know." You smile at him, tears in your eyes. "Thomas Shelby," you breathe. "I love you." He smiled softly, his eyes heavy with sleep and love. "I love you," he stands up, carrying you in his arms to the bed. "Madly," he kisses your neck. "Desperately," your collarbones. "Irrevocably," the tops of your breasts. "Besotted," he tugs at the neckline of your dress. "With you, my love."

1950

It was Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Shelby's thirtieth wedding anniversary party. A grand affair for everyone involved. Tommy held his brides hand under the table, looking out at his family. This family that they had created. Their eldest son, Peter, and his wife, Sophie sat with their first two grandsons, Oliver and Thomas, a namesake. Kate sat with her fiancé, Isabel and William sat near their nephews, entertaining them with crayons and paper. And Claire and Anthony sat with their friends who they were allowed to invite, in hopes they would sit still for dinner at least before the dancing began. His heart swelled with pride.

Peter stood up, walking to the front of the ballroom they had rented for the occasion, standing in front of the microphone. He cleared his throat. "If I could have everyone's attention for a moment, please," he said, the ballroom falling quiet except for the sound of silverware on plates. "I told my mother I wouldn't make her cry, but I can't really keep my promise on this one, Mother," he smiles at his mother, who already looks at him with tears in her eyes. "Father, don't hurt me for making mother cry," Peter jokes, and Tommy laughs, squeezing his brides hand, beaming proudly at his eldest son. The crowd chuckled, all knowing the repercussions of making Mrs. Shelby upset. "When I was five, I remember my father telling Kate and I a story of a witch who put a spell on a poor peasant boy," Peters mother closes her eyes, reliving that memory from so long ago in her minds eye. "And they fell madly in love from that spell," he took a breath. "At the time I thought it was gross, the idea of love, the idea of this feeling that overtakes every part of you. My father told me one day I would love, love as much as he does. And it wasn't until I was older that I realized it was a retelling of their love story," the audience let out a unanimous, "aw", making Tommy blush and his wife laugh, shaking her head. "But, what I came up here to thank my parents for, more than anything they've done for all of us," he paused, looking at his parents. "Is showing us the power of love. The power of having that sort of soul-shattering love on your side through all of life's valleys and peaks. I've seen my parents, throughout my twenty-eight years of life, pull each other from the valleys and love the other back to life. They have instilled in all of their children the power of marrying for love, over honor and duty," he smiles at his siblings. "And allowing that love to be the driving force of all they do. They have led their family for thirty years with love and respect, honor, and excellence, and for their example of irrevocable and unending love, I am forever in their debt. Happy anniversary, you lovesick fools!" Peter said, raising his champagne flute in a toast to his parents, who were both teary eyed at the head of their table. "We love you, Mom and Dad."

And through his life, that moment, that night, was the second night in Thomas' life that he truly felt an overwhelming feeling of, I did the right thing with my life. Coming in second only to the day his life changed forever, when he married the love of his life.