#YOUR BRAIN IS MASSIVE

[daydreamerwonderkid]

i was bella x rosalie

wrote a lot of fics for it too

no i will not share them

No, wait, that's actually a good ship wtf how did I never think of that?! :O

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Normal Friend Behaviour.

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[trinketbug]

twilight and pinkie are like the bert and ernie of horses

10/10 you’re literally right

[just-null]

CAT BOYS CAT BOYS

[teddybeartoji]

@twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @dollsuguru

haha

[lazylittledragon]

what do you mean youre technically a detransitioner cause of terf bullshit?

it's a v long story but i detransitioned for a couple of years when i was 16/17, for multiple reasons but mostly because i fell into the blaire white/kalvin garrah chamber of "you have to be This way to be trans otherwise you're not real".

i was already Deeply insecure about myself and my 'passing' and i was led to believe that i couldn't want to wear makeup or skirts, and i couldn't choose not to have bottom surgery, and i couldn't do anything but bind for 12+ hours a day to the point that my ribcage is still misshapen. basically i thought that if i wasn't suffering enough doing 'feminine' things, i couldn't really be trans, so i should just go back to being a girl and suck it up.

the terf bullshit is because i'd seen a lot of terfs/detransitioners talking about the 'dangers' of testosterone and how it would turn me into a horrible ugly evil monster and how there was nothing worse than wanting to be a man. which combined with 'you need to fully medically transition to be valid at all' creates some very dangerous and upsetting feelings to cope with.

it also came from trying really hard to put myself in a little box before i realised that my sexuality/gender are very fluid and it's FINE for me not to have a label and just do whatever i want. when i was 19 or so i went back to using they/them (and eventually he/him) and changed my name again because even though i like doing 'feminine' things, i don't want to be seen as a woman.

tldr: i was conditioned by transphobic/terf rhetorics to think that i was being trans the 'wrong' way so i couldn't be trans at all, so i believed i must actually be a girl if i still wanted to do 'feminine' things. nowadays i am a transmasc who does feminine things because i don't give two shits about what any transmed prick thinks of me anymore.

[yrsonpurpose]

Happy Christmas, Henry

[dailypepito]

pepito as an isopod (pill bug) maybe?

[122] ISOPEPITO

[fullsaw]

This is actually the only human!rocket design i like this is rlly cute

alright, some shoddy concepts for my human Rocket&Groot

Hope they're decent

[fisheito]

everyone gets a turn in the ridiculous skintight edmondsuit. or at least, .everyone SHOULD

[itsriotmotherfuckers]

Now, I know that Remus’ patronus is a wolf (in cannon, I mean— I usually headcannon it as a massive dog) because he’s a werewolf, but I don’t think that that would be his animagus form. I also don’t think that Lily’s patronus being a doe makes her animagus form a doe, because that’s boring as all hell.

Personally, I think that Remus’ animagus form would be either a mouse or a sheep. A mouse because they’re incredibly clever, but also very kind, and I find it funny to think that the werewolf’s animagus form is one of the smallest mammals out there, also he kind of just reminds me of a mouse (plus, it would be sweet to see Peter not being the tiniest Marauder— I think that him not being the smallest would’ve prevented him from building resentment and then betraying them). A sheep just for the irony of a wolf in sheep’s clothing puns.

I think that Lily’s animagus form would be a mountain lion. They’re notoriously good mothers, they’re strong, they’re fast, but they’re pretty nice (by big cat standards). Also, I just think the gives off big cat vibes. She’s either a mountain lion or a lioness.

[vampien]

" lovely, company. "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎the words are whispered before she even opens the door, with not enough concern dripping from her tongue.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎there is more than one, she's sure, who would love to have her head delivered on a platter‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(if not only to prove that they did so, perhaps out of infatuation‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎enough people, human or more, human or less, slip past her with an eagerness),‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎but again:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she doesn't find it within herself to care enough.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎so when she opens the door, all she does is stare, listening to a southern drawl that happens to peak her interest.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎lecture after lecture, dripping in correct of how terribly rude she's been, and in some previous life that would've scared her, made her chest nearly curled inwards in fear.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎doing a bad job was an absolute no for her!‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎instead now, she lets the other finish‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(and she takes note, at least it's not a french accent).

" i would never think that louis is interesting. "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it's her first and only rebuttal, before she reaches her hand over, flicking on the room lights.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" better, hm? "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎her gaze pulls now, slipping leather gloves off her fingers with a gentle pull, the slightest motion blurring at the edge, as if she were, itself, an illusion.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎out of the corner of her eye, the stark white blonde seems to emanate something of the same aura.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎its one satine has noted in some vampires, although not all.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎there is, of course, the immortality of it all, always floating just above reality and just below the crust of the earth‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––-‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎but even then, not everyone moves so smoothly, not everyone moves so unholy.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" would you mind standing up?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎sitting on my coffin is slightly rude, don't you think so?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎perfectly good chair right there. "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎the gloves are dropped then, callously thrown on a table by the door as she nods in the direction of a much more lovely place to sit.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ and what kind of host would she be if she didn't join her?

" what are you then, a groupie?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎a member of his band?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎forgive me, i don't really care much for his music. "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎a lie that falls from her lip like ease, like an actress saying a line.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she sits opposite from the chair she motioned toward, spine completely straight, and face completely unmoving, apart from her lips that only slip closed and open at the annunciation of each syllable‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(and each word drips with her own harmony, a melodic press of her tongue to the back of her teeth).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" it's difficult to clean up by myself. "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎now she fake pouts, tone slipping up as if in earnest, but there's barely any effort:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎something she's sure the other can see through immediately, and maybe she's even doing it on purpose‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" unlike monsieur lestat, i don't have crowds following me to help me along the way.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎but if it's such a problem, then why wait this long to talk to me? "

"mh, gettin' too close there, missy." she's an eery vision in the darkness of the room, only illuminated by the few rays of moonshine trickling through the window; a phantom of leather & white hair, eyes so clear blue they're almost white. there she sits, cross-legged atop the vampire's coffin. the redhead had not been easy to find, but ishtar was nothing if not perseverant. tired of the mouse & cat game of private investigators' watching their every move (not hers; but louis', and therefore lestat's). tired of killing them. men & women taken back to her hotel room with little to no coaxing, mesmerized by the girl approaching them. kisses exchanged, whispers of a day beyond the night, fucking the ones she likes best-- then the draining, a dreadful affair, but a necessary risk. message sent through the messenger. she thought the vampire satine would get it: smart devil, this one.

"am growin' tired of eatin' 'em up. dunno what tabs yer keepin', but honestly? louis' life ain't worth all that trouble." the southern drawl is evident, vestige of the old west crossing with the latter day saint movement. a terrible cocktail of blasphemous arrogance that smiles up at satine with tiny fangs on display. "he fucks, he drinks, he runs lestat's business. i can send ya his schedule if ya want." oh, she's a chatty one. she likes her audience attentive; not an actress-- too close to the audience for a screen to keep her from interacting. a comedian, perhaps, or the kind of musician that plays guitar amidst a screaming crowd. that's what she does, now. plays for the vampire lestat; best gig she's had. though to be fair, she has been meaning thing in her life; this job's just good because it's a nice fuck you to whatever destiny her parents had promised her. it's fun, too. keeps the boredom away.

"besides, pi's are one thin'. all the bodies yer leavin' for us to clean up are another." there, the truth; a warning. "yer gettin' reckless. see, i ain't all bothered 'bout the blood, but yer the one who abandoned our boy durin' his grand tour. and now yer leavin' bodies everywhere ya go like a gross version of gretel? come on. if yer fixin' to get yerself killed, just say the word." she grows serious then... or her expression simply shifts into a blank slate, no transition. in that sense, she is more like armand than lestat or louis: too good at being whatever she wants to be that it makes you wonder if there's anything beyond the mask. "but i reckon it's time ya decide."

[pinetreeshack]

based on this post

[jasipereo]

“3 tickets to Challengers please”

[g1ngerbeer]

@oceans-bluem said i should put this on tumblr too