#ah yes bc i write

[suffarustuffaru]

if i wrote a comprehensive analysis of reading into otto's character from a queer lens (with extensive text citations) would you read it bc ive thought way too much about this for the sake of my silly anime fanfiction okay. i know too much about this topic now and i gotta let the energy out <33

[rendevok]

The sensation of waking up next to you ❤️💙

+bonus doodle:

…and they mimir’d happily ever after the end. ❤️

(ID under cut!)

Miles is roused from sleep by sunlight shining on his face. Slowly, his eyes adjust to the light, until finally, his scope of awareness broadens to a body he had been sleeping on.

Page 2

Miles looks up to the figure that holds him, and upon seeing, his eyes widen in recognition.

Miles looks up to the figure that holds him, and upon seeing, his eyes widen in recognition.

The bottom panel of the page shows minimal details of a window shedding light onto the bed and blankets as seen from a higher view in the room.

Page 3

On the other side of the bed, Phoenix rests, his head propped by the headboard. His hair is messy from sleep, and his expression is thoughtful. The light of the morning highlights his features.

The sun shines through the blinds of the window.

Phoenix finally notices his observer, and turns to look at him.

Page 4

Phoenix takes Miles’ hand in his, and lifts it to gently kiss the ring on Miles’ finger. They both move to share a kiss, and their hands shift to hold one another. Miles’ ring sparkles in the sunlight.

Page 5

They link their fingers as they kiss, and the morning creates a quiet atmosphere around them.

They part, but remain close, their fingers fully interlocked. Phoenix greets “Good morning,” with a tender, loving expression as he looks at Miles. Miles’ own expression is soft, unguarded, and fixed on Phoenix.

Page 6

Phoenix and Miles settle back into their shared bed; the morning sun illuminates them. They both smile softly, seeming happy and at peace. Miles rests his head under Phoenix’s neck, and his hand on Phoenix’s chest. One of Phoenix’s hands rests over Miles’ own on his chest, while his other hand holds Miles closer, revealing a matching ring of his own. Both rings shine softly in the sunlight.

Bonus image

A small simple drawing of Phoenix and Miles having fallen asleep again while holding each other as in the final page of the comic.

End ID.]

[ajcrowlor]

It's so clear now that you are all that I have I have no fear cos you are all that I have

so i decided i wasn't actually all that happy with the background of this piece and redid it haha :'D

again, this is from a post-series Empty rescue plotbunny, it's yet another image of Dean and Cas in freefall (which is probs from watching too much Eureka Seven in hs), and have the soundtrack that is both inspired by this scene and acted as inspiration to draw this (mostly Snow Patrol's You're All I Have and Signal Fire being blasted on repeat):

(also how the FUCK do yall size your procreate shit for tumblr? i feel like everything i post looks like a pic i took with my first slide phone circa 2008... it makes potato quality look good *sobbing*)

[lovereadandwrite]

Fyodor would absolutely invent a medieval cello just so he could celebrate😌🎶🎻 my tlkt0k: sarahdeleonart

[starryeyed-seer]

There is a kingdom which overflows with song, a sunlit land of the myrrh-merry and may-marry. Here reigns a grand Merchant King, whose table is long and whose art is in promise. 

As part of the @fallenlondonficswap 2024, a piece I wrote for @house-of-mirrors !! I've been wanting to explore Merchant King Wines since I read about it (Cricket, Anyone? ES), so this mix of FL-typical horror and alcohol jokes was the perfect excuse hehehe

Wordcount: 966

[rintoki]

luocha's voice is so calming...

imagine fucking him sensually, slowly, lovingly. and his moans are even prettier🥰🥰🫶🏻🫶🏻 filling my heart w serenity and love

MEEEEMDMRNFNDD UR SOO RIGHTTTT HES SO SMFNRKGNDKNFK

he’d look so pretty in white lingerie <3333 and his long hair ngngmgnfngnfjrbf gGGrRRRAAA i wanna comb his hair and kiss his shoulders, watch how easily his skin flushes because of how fair he is. his shaky breaths as you explore his body, slowly undoing the ties and ribbons of the white lace piece, unravelling before your eyes.

but you don’t take off everything, because the white lingerie just looks so gorgeous on him. no, instead it hangs rather messily on him; one strap falling off his shoulder, the panties pushed lazily to one side, the ribbon that was tied over his chest undone as it is now exposed to your hungry touches.

he shouldn’t be here actually, he’s a travelling merchant. but something about you draws him in, somehow he always finds himself coming back to you. maybe it’s the way you kiss his body, or the way you hold him so firmly and yet still gentle, how you always seem to know where to touch him that has him trembling.

“did you find this piece while on your travels?” you toyed with the silky garment, brushing your fingers over the translucent fabric on his hips. “it looks gorgeous on you.”

luocha sucks in a shaky breath, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “i… thought you’d appreciate it,” his voice was soft, eyes following your hands. you were going excruciatingly slow today, perhaps you were appreciating the lingerie a little too much.

the little white panties barely covered anything, already soaked with precum as evidence of how long you’ve been at it. it didn’t take much to push the string that made up the back half of the panties to the side, your fingers massaging the puckered skin of his hole. luocha bit down on his bottom lip, anticipating the feeling of your fingers pushing in and filling him up; oh how he’s missed the feeling.

you watched as the rise and fall of his chest quickens with the anticipation, his hips twitching and pushing against your hand.

“plea—please…” he whispers, and you oblige him. pushing a lubed finger in first, before pulling out and pushing in two. you listen to his quiet whine, his abdomen quivering as he tries to relax and accommodate the stretch. curling your fingers, you search for a spot along his spongy walls, stroking the way you know he likes it.

luocha grips at the sheets, the muscles in his belly flexing when your fingers brush over a particularly sensitive spot and he finds he cannot control the way his legs twitch, nor the high pitched whimpers that escape his mouth.

it didn’t help that your other hand has found it’s way to his cock, gently palming it through the fabric of the panties and his hips bucks pathetically, unsure if it wants to thrust into your palm or push down on your fingers. you smile at his predicament, kissing down his inner thighs and biting a dark mark into his milky skin. it pleased you greatly to see the blonde man in such a state, normally so put together and elegant now with his hair a mess and sticking to his sweaty skin that was flushed a crimson red.

it didn’t take long for luocha to release into the panties, soiling it further as he gasps for breath, body tensing and trembling helplessly beneath your touch. he stares at the ceiling, your warm touch already leaving his body and leaving him cold in the bed. as a travelling merchant he should be glad that you kept your business short, but he can’t help how he wishes you would stay just a while longer.

[sweetlullabyebye]

[nari-writes]

Blogging (and other dangerous activities likely to get you adopted by the Batman)

Inspired by Latchkey by goldkirk

Tim wakes up to Batman in his room.

It- well, it's not fair to say it's a surprise, but seeing the looming figure in his window does make his heart seize. Even after the time Tim's spent watching him with the Robins, it's still nerve-wracking to have Gotham's nightmare show up. Especially since Batman does little to dissuade the notion that he's here on genial business.

Maybe Bruce has figured out he knows and is going to silence him. Maybe this isn't actually Batman, but Man-bat, and Tim's about to be twelve-year-old bat jerky. Maybe-

His parents are home this week though, so if he really wanted he could probably scream and get himself some thinking time; but as he takes a breath to decide what to do, Batman puts a gloved hand over his mouth.

And, ugh. It smells kinda gross. Like leather and motorcycle fumes. Probably the right Batman, but also. Super gross? Why does he smell so bad? When did he last rinse his gloves?

“You've been blogging.” Batman says, which isn't a question but is a very unhelpful non-sequitur.

“Mmrnhm?” Tim says, largely unintelligible but not entirely intending words.

What the shit. Batman's only here because of the blog?

Also, unfair. He'd had to jump through so many hoops to spoof his IP and make his own VPN and switch which library he posted from, and Batman still found him? This sucks.

“Don't scream,” Batman says, and Tim nods. Batman pulls his hand away slowly, potentially having expected Tim to lie, but Tim's not stupid. Batman doesn't have to do this nicely, even if he is a kid, and Tim also knows that if he did scream, Batman would either a) be prepared and gag him again or b) vanish, and then Tim would be in trouble with his parents. Either option sucks, so he'd rather opt for the one that lets him keep taking in the details of Batman's suit. It's hard in the dark, but still way easier than through his camera.

“It could've been my parents,” Tim says, when it seems Batman's waiting for him to answer his earlier not-question. Batman hums, and Tim wiggles back so he's against the headboard. “Yeah, I figured you'd already researched their flight times. Have to try though, right?”

“The blog. Why?”

“It's-” he starts, because there's so many reasons and he doesn't actually know which one Batman wants. Or, actually, would like the least? Probably 'I wanted to see you in action' would land with the grace of a sleep-deprived Jason Todd, but 'I was lonely' may be worse. 'I didn't expect it to blow up?' may be okay, but in the end he hesitantly settles with: “I just think that- seeing you, being- human? Or, showing you have humanity- was important.”

“Did you ever think that I wouldn't want that?” Batman asks, and Tim shifts awkwardly.

“I mean. Yes? But also, the way people- talk about you and the Robins. It sucks.”

Batman's mouth looks very displeased.

“It just, it shows that you're human!”

“How do you know?” Batman asks, and he actually kinda sounds like Bruce Wayne now, like this is a joke he's used before, and Tim thinks through what he'd been about to say very quickly and shuts his mouth with a snap. Ow. Now his teeth hurt.

Batman, on the other hand, does something to his cowl that makes him look like he's very slowly raising his eyebrow. Is it weird to think he looks tense, looks more threatening now, even though he'd literally just been looming with the promise of violence? Tim swallows hard.

“I don't?” he offers, his voice breaking, and he literally doesn't think he's ever been more humiliated by puberty. “I mean, I don't! Know you're human, that is. You could definitely be an alien if you wanted. Or a spirit of revenge, or-” Tim flops backward on his bed and pulls his blanket over his head. “I shouldn't be so bad at this,” he mumbles, and doesn't think about he's definitely going to die because Batman's suspicious and Tim's an idiot when he's tired.

Batman is damningly silent, but when Tim finally, hesitantly, peeks his eyes out from the hem of his blanket, the Dark Knight is still standing in his room. Actually, he's half-hunched over Tim's desk, looking at the corkboard of Tim's photos and reminders. He reaches out, and Tim's heart thuds. “Oh, please don't!” he says instinctively when Batman grazes Tim's camera. Batman stops and tilts his head over his shoulder to look, and Tim swallows down the anxiety clogging his throat. “Please don't take my camera. I can get another one but I- that one was-”

“Stop taking photos of us.” Batman says, short and to the point.

“Stop posting them to the blog?” Tim offers, and this makes Batman turn around properly, looking at him head-on again. He's judging Tim, now, and Tim wonders what part of him will be found wanting. In Batman's eyes is Tim's wealth a precursor to change or stagnation? Does he think Tim should be doing more with his life? Or does he simply expect that this is a rich kid's hobby, no sentimentality involved? Bruce Wayne took his billions and made himself a hero and Tim knows he can't do the same, considering his parents are in charge of the Drake fortune, but there's probably a million other things he could be doing that don't involve stalking superheroes.

“You're a child,” Batman says slowly, and his voice has lost the harder overture that's affected his speech so far. “When Batman is out, it is late, and dark, and dangerous. You are a child and shouldn't be anywhere near-”

“I don't go close!” Tim protests, “I'm not stupid!”

“There are always people in Gotham. What does it matter if you're not in the area of the most danger when you're still in danger?”

“I'm not stupid,” Tim protests with a hiss that contains more vitriol than it really should, considering his conversation partner, but he can't help it. “If you never saw me how'd you think anyone else could?”

“How do you know I never saw you?” Batman asks, like a challenge, and Tim scoffs.

“Come on, you think I don't know that if you saw me out there, you'd have me thrown in the back of the Batmobile and at the closest precinct before I could blink? Jason almost-” Tim freezes, then quickly blurts, “-before he took your tires, and got adopted by Bruce Wayne, Jason tried to do the same thing whenever he saw me. I know what I look like, to people in Crime Alley.”

Shoot, shoot, shoot, this is actively a terrible lie; Batman only needs to ask Jason when he met Tim and the whole thing would be blown. And, also, name-dropping a specific kid, like Batman would remember who stole his tires? The connection is tenuous at best and damning at worst.

“You've been taking photographs of us since you were eight?” Batman asks, sounding horrified, and Tim winces internally. Please forgive me, Robin, he whispers in the back of his mind, and then says with all the glib disdain he can muster:

“Well, you let Robin go out when he was barely older than me. It's the same thing.”

He has never seen Batman do a full-body wince before. He's not entirely sure he could get Batman to do it again, and wonders if he should add it to his board of accomplishments. He’d have to encode it if he did, even if the board’s mostly for his own reference, but imagining it pinned up next to his photography awards is making him feel a bit hysterical. Then again, that could also be the fact that Batman is still in his room and Tim is lying.

“He was not eight-”

“I just think that unless the same orders get applied to him I think you're being a bit of a hypocrite. He’s actively in more danger than I am, considering he ends up in grabbing range of Rouges and I don’t.”

“I will be telling your parents,” Batman growls, and this time Tim smirks.

“Yeah? And how do you think that's going to go for you?” Tim can almost exactly imagine it: there's no way his parents will believe Batman, because it's crazy and they'd be freaking out over Batman in their house, and if he does it as Bruce Wayne it'd be a crazy coincidence for Tim Drake, known genius, to have access to. If Tim hadn't already solved their identities, that connection alone would probably tip him off.

Well, maybe Batman wouldn't think about the potential implications - academic strengths don't always translate to detective-solving skills, and it's just Batman's misfortune that in Tim's case it's a little bit the other way around. Detective skills that he's carefully and stubbornly honed have led him to a dogged dedication to his studies.

“Robin is a trained professional,” Batman says, and Tim volleys back with,

“Yeah and I'm not doing the same thing he is at all, so my standards can be different.”

“Tim Drake,” Batman says, this time actively growling his name, and Tim doesn’t know if he should cackle or wince. For one thing, he’s pretty sure Batman has lost this verbal volley, which is why he’s pulling out the doom and darkness voice.

On the other, this is the voice he uses on men triple Tim’s size and with twice the bravery (and crazy), and having the full force of it directed at him makes his stomach drop. He clutches his blankets, fabric pulled tight, and tries to pretend his hands aren’t shaking.

“The blog is being removed - do not start it again. I will not see you on Gotham’s streets again during my patrol.”

The lens of his mask are so narrow that the white is barely visible. He holds Tim’s gaze, like he’s imparting the orders, like he’s checking to see Tim’s fear will keep him obedient, and then nods slowly. The cape swishes behind him as he puts Tim’s camera back on the desk, and then he’s leaving. Leaving, and Tim’s secrets are safe and he is unharmed and undeterred.

“You won’t,” Tim whispers as Batman slips out his window and into the dark.

[beanghostprincess]

Also what if when the Red Haired and Strawhat pirate crews finally meet. They meet in a populated area and celebrate meeting each other: Shanks and Luffy bond while Usopp and Yasopp are actually doing well together and bonding too. And Sanji (even tho being in a relationship) still fawns over the village girls every once in a while when he's there (not intensely but y'know). And Yasopp sees him and don't think anything of it until Usopp introduces him as his boyfriend. Which quickly pisses him off after seeing how he acts. Which results in Yasopp not liking him, bc well okay, makes sense, but then it leads to him saying he's not allowed to date his son as if he has any control over his life. Which leads to Yasopp and Sanji hating each other and arguing. But also Usopp hating both of them (Sanji for looking at other women still and Yasopp for dictating his life) and refusing to be around them for a while until Sanji and Yasopp realize they were jerks and apologize to him once he calms down.

This been on my head for a long while and I couldn't help but spill since you brought up Yasopp.

Let me kiss your brain. Please. Like. Come here right now and let me kiss your forehead. This is- This is so- Okay. I NEED A MOMENT. I need a moment. Let me breathe. Just a moment.

...

Okay, I'm done breathing. This is AMAZING. And now you have to deal with me talking about it!!!

I think Sanji and Yasopp would not get along because of what you just said. Sanji would still simp for girls everywhere (like, that's something that will never change. And it's not like he tries to sleep with them, he's loyal to Usopp. He's just very, uh, sexually attracted to them an insane amount. Usopp should have permission to bonk him with a hammer every time he does that tbh) and Yasopp would instantly think that he's not good for his son. Which is, you know, understandable, but who is he in Usopp's life to talk about his future? Or at least that's what Sanji would say, complaining about how he doesn't have any right to decide if he's good for his son, keeping in mind that he has never been around.

Yasopp left, but he still cares for his son and he wants to have a good relationship with him. Seeing Sanji like that makes him think about Shanks and Buggy's relationship and that's just not what he wants for Usopp (Shanks, baby, I love you but you're so not beating the cheater allegations). And Sanji... Sanji doesn't have a good relationship with father figures (obviously this is about Judge and not Zeff. Zeff, I love you) and men in general, so tbh I think he would already be a bit resentful towards Yasopp even before meeting him. He would try to hold back, of course, be friendly for Usopp's sake and all. But it doesn't work out.

I find this concept amazing because they care and love Usopp so much that they actually forget about what Usopp truly wants. Overprotective much?? I think they would end up bonding over that, too!!! Usopp would get angry at both of them first, though:

Usopp: What do you mean he's not good for me? You don't know him! Yasopp: But I'm sure he would love to know every girl around here, wouldn't he? If you know what I mean. He's going to end up breaking your heart, kiddo, I know people like him. For fuck's sake, Shanks is like him! Shanks: I'll have you know I am a very stable individual and your captain and a little bit of sexual freedom never hurt anyone! Yasopp: Tell that to your ex-boyfriend. Shanks: Ouch. Unnecessary. Usopp: You don't know him! And for starters, you don't even know me! He's wonderful and perfect for me and even if he weren't, you shouldn't have a say in my romantic life! If you wanted to act like a dad, you should've started years ago! Sanji: Thanks, mon trés- Usopp: And you. Don't you dare mon trésor me right now! My dad might not be allowed to say shit like this about you, but I am. I've gotten used to you flirting with every average-looking girl you see, but I'm sick and tired of you acting like a dog in heat with them. Especially when I'm around. It's- I thought I could just deal with it because I'm not a jealous person, but you need to get your shit together, Sanji. Both of you need to get your shit together. And if you excuse me, I'm going to have a drink with the others because I need a long, long break from you two. [...] Zoro: Now you've done it, curly. Told you you'd fuck this up someday. Sanji: I'm going to murder you. [...] Shanks: And you say I'm the bad father. Yasopp: You still are. Shanks: Maybe, good point there, but I'm not the only one. So that's a relief.

And then they would end up talking things out, of course, because Usopp is the most important person in their lives. I would like to see them bond over that, realizing that they both care about him a lot and that's why all of this happened. Sanji tells Yasopp that, even if he's pretty much obsessed with women, he would never be disloyal to Usopp. Usopp is the one for him. If he says he wants to get married to him one day, Yasopp is the only one who hears it. Sanji just needs to control his urges a lot, tbh. And Yasopp says that he knows he's not allowed to decide who his son should or shouldn't date, but he just wants to be a good father and enjoy the time they have together without some guy breaking Usopp's heart. He doesn't know how to be a dad, but he's willing to try for him.

So I think they end up getting along! Sanji cooks for both crews, of course, and Yasopp is delighted to taste his food. They spend the time laughing and talking about Usopp and Sanji won't stop explaining every adventure they've had together. Usopp, on the other hand, isn't as angry anymore (after talking to Nami about it) and watches from a distance how friendly they are now. This raises the question:

Usopp: God, are they going to be like that now? Nami: Is there an issue with that? Usopp: I don't know. Maybe? It's just weird. Robin: Maybe they start talking about all of your dirty secrets and embarrassing memories :) (<- Super friendly and not at all scary smile) Usopp: I want to die.

At some point, Sanji brings Usopp food and Yasopp comes along. They both apologize to him and, well, it's not as scary as Usopp thought. And they might be stupid and flawed, but they're still two of the people he loves the most.

Gonna have a whole breakdown over this now, thank you. I'm gonna think about this all day long. And tomorrow too. I'm sobbing. I have a lot of thoughts right now. Thinking about Sanji asking Yasopp for Usopp's hand because he's just classy like that and Yasopp accepting and Sanji like: "Okay, cool, because I was going to marry him anyway even if you said no. Glad I didn't have to kick your ass."

I'm gonna cherish this ask forever. Thank you. <3

[hunnicute]

“Hello! You there, in the cot. I know you’re feeling sleepy, but I wonder if you’d mind taking a brief survey. I’m sure it will make you feel right as rain. Five questions.”

There’s a crackling over the speaker. Or maybe it’s in his head. Everything feels at once itchy and gloopy. He tries to sit up as the speaker fizzes, there’s mumbling on the other side but it’s indistinguishable as language.

“Where am I?” The man asks, pushing up from the bare cot, looking around the room which seems to be made up of concrete walls and little else.

“Close, the first question is actually: who are you?”

Where was it coming from? The voice seemed to echo off all of the walls, its source at the moment unknowable. The man jumps off the cot, barely that - it’s only some green canvas stretched over a metal frame, an intense prickling filling his brain and sinking down his spine. What was that called? Anxiety. This wasn’t right.

“What is this place, where am I?” He asks again, pacing the room. There’s one exit. A metal door set into the concrete walls. Beside it a black panel with dozens of tiny holes. The speaker. Beside the cot he woke up on there’s a chair made of metal. Florescent lights beam from the ceiling causing the man to squint as he zeros in on the speaker grill. He nearly trips over his feet reaching for the door. He tries the handle, it doesn’t budge. He pulls. Nothing. Pushes. More of the same. Not even any give in the hinges or lock. Whatever was holding it in place wasn’t something he could get past.

“Who are you?”

Calm down, breathe. The man tries to order his thoughts into rationality, fighting the building rage and stress that's filling his entire body. Find out what they want, if you can give it to them then you may make it out alive. If you can’t… convince them you can. The man analyses the voice. Young, most likely male, tone what could be called chipper. It doesn’t seem threatening, or deceptive. Still best to be cautious.

“Who are you?” The voice comes once more, some of the cheerful edge is dulled this time, like it expected an answer by now and doesn’t know why it’s not getting a response. Like turning on the radio and expecting a song but only getting static when everything seems to be in working order.

Play along for now, the man thinks. He goes to answer, only to find out he can’t. Nothing’s physically stopping him, there’s air in his lungs and his lips are free to move. But he can’t answer. The simplest of questions, he reaches for the information in his brain and it’s just- gone. He clamps his jaw shut, teeth clicking together. His veins turn to ice.

What the hell is going on here.

“If you can’t answer, feel free to say unknown.”

He needs to get out. He needs to get to- Make sure- Is safe- It’s his job to- Home is-

There’s only one way out of this room, built of concrete and smelling of freshly printed pages and antiseptic (how does he know that?) and it’s through that door. Whoever is talking through the speaker can open it. He picks up his hat and runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

“I don’t know.” The man says, voice floating out of him like it doesn’t even belong to him. Maybe it doesn’t, how would he know?

“Unknown. Okay. Second question, in which US state or territory were you born?” He reaches for it. Nothing again. The ice in his veins spreads again, as the anxiety builds. His breath speeds up and his fists clench. He takes a step back from the door. Stay calm. He shakes his head. They must be watching him because the voice goes on.

“Unknown! Great.” Some of the chipperness has returned. He didn’t notice the round black bump above the door before, like a beady eye staring him down. How does he know that it’s a camera? He’s never seen one before, but he knows exactly what it is and what it does. The urge to run begins to overwhelm him the longer this goes on. His stomach twists with nausea. Commonly caused by motion sickness, intense pain, early pregnancy, food poisoning, various enteroviruses or in this case emotional distress.

“Question three, please name any US state or territory.”

“Uh- I don’t know… Delaware.” Delaware? Where did that come from? What else? Georgia. Iowa. Alaska.

“Delaware.”

New York, California, Virginia, New Mexico.

“Question four, what is Mr. Eagan’s favourite breakfast?”

Illinois, Rhode Island, Texas, Idaho. There’s another voice in the background, one he hasn’t heard up until now. It’s deeper, exasperated. God, he thinks it says. The chipper voice ignores it. So there’s someone else there. Maybe someone higher up, someone in charge?

“I don’t know who that is.” He reaches for the handle of the door again and jiggles it futilely. “Maybe we can have a conversation and you can tell me face to face.”

“I’d love to chat with you, after we finish the survey.”

He lets out a terse laugh, a smile tightening his lips - but not with amusement. The action feels familiar.

“And would you look at that, we’re on the final question! To the best of your memory, what is or was the colour of your mother’s eyes?” Does he even have a mother? He must. Everyone has a mother. The nausea threatens to take over and the man turns around looking for a bucket or a trash can. There’s nothing but the cot and the chair. He stumbles towards them.

“I don’t remember.”

“Unknown! Wow!”

“What the hell is this?”

“Unknown, unknown, Delaware, unknown and unknown right?”

“Look if you don’t tell me what the hell I’m doing here I-“

The door swings open and out of it comes a kid who can’t be older than 17, holding a clipboard and grinning behind large circular glasses.

“Gee sir, you got a perfect score! And quicker than most too, that first question is usually what really trips people up but you done it just swell.”

[dukeofthomas]

"He hurts you because he loves you" classic excuse for abuse, not an interesting angle to go at a story with, boring, annoying, makes me hate anyone who says this shit. "He loves you but he still hurt you" beautiful, amazing, empowering. Love is not a pure, good, flawless emotion, actions matter more than intent, and caring for someone doesn't mean you can't or won't hurt them, and in my opinion, it makes hurting them worse.

[marragurl]

*me waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night*

Wriothesley and Uncle Iroh

Just- those two

Tea besties in another life change my mind.

They would be the best tea duo

They would exchange recipes

They would spend hours talking and everyone would think it’s some serious diplomacy stuff- EXCEPT NO. ITS TEA AND THEM CRYING AT THE FACT THAT THEY FOUND SOMEONE WHO IS AS INSANE ABOUT TEA AS THEY ARE

Wriothesley would totally play pai sho with Uncle Iroh if there’s tea. And of course there’s tea, Uncle Iroh is not a degenerate, he is a man of true culture

Wriothesley just inviting Uncle Iroh to tea, not expecting much since fucking everyone keeps turning him down (I’d join you for tea Wrio, even though I only like green tea, because I’m polite dammit and my anxiety wouldn’t let me say no, I’d still be happy to join you, please someone join this man for tea, it’s all he’s asking for-), and then Uncle Iroh says “yes” and Wrio just.

Freezes.

And is all like :0 really????

And from then on, Wriothesley would die for Uncle Iroh like the rest of us

Wriothesley would full on deck Zuko for his complete disregard of tea pre-Ba Sing Se tea shop. It would be glorious.

Lanky 16 year old exiled prince with anger and daddy issues vs tired deadpan tea fanatic who could freeze his ass with one punch and has passed the midlife crisis stage of his life

Wrio is an orphan right? Or is that still just speculation? Point is-

Iroh would 100% adopt this deadpan humor stray kid after one convo of Wrio managing to bring up tea in every other sentence

I just-

I need this duo

[utilitycaster]

Queueing to make it clear this isn't a one-time thing or vagueing a specific person and more an irritating trend, but: if you have speculation or a personal wish for a story, that is always totally cool and you can and should post about it to your heart's content but it is pretty irritating to post it on other people's theory posts unless you can construct a logical argument and relate it back to their theory.

You want to see a guest character return? Okay, pitch me how this is related to my post, and why it would make particular sense within the story. You think a ship is going to happen? Great, say something other than "Um, I have eyes" on my post if you want to reply to me. You think this campaign is going to go on until level 20? Do you have an argument other than "I want it to?" Then give it, otherwise this would really be better suited to you making your own post.

You don't need an argument in your own post! I think it's wise to have one if you have any interest in convincing other people (and indeed, I tend to find that if there's a lot of MAN WOULDN'T IT BE COOL evidence- and argument-free posts in the tag for something I wasn't already inclined to like, it will make me feel more unfavorable towards it), but if you're posting for yourself and not to make a point you can and should just say what you want! You do need one when you're shoving it onto mine though because now I'm going to get all the people responding to you and I don't want them. Also when people do this and I don't care for their theory I tend to hide the reblog, or I just make the post nonrebloggable if it takes off and I'm sufficiently annoyed, and now no one can see or respond to the theory because they didn't write your own post and I'm in control! Writing your own posts is great! Please, if you are not directly responding to the content of an original post but rather going off on your own tangent, make your own post instead of getting on theirs.

[lanaluthorlang]

smallville clark frustrates me to no end, but he also has the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen so that makes everything alright in the end

[ostensiblyfunctional]

Good evening, my sole post for the day is: I think clones would be really confused about skirts, because they'd look at one and go ??? Kamas for natborns?? But if they had ARCs then they'd be in the war, right??? Just a gaggle of troopers all gathered around a rack in a clothing store while on shore leave, or discreetly glancing at a local's outfit, and exchanging incredibly confused looks.

[pokemonfrommemory]

Joke abt self cooking bacon here