#allow me to post this and then Look Away

[vigilskeep]

hi hello @demandthedoodles was kind enough to tag me in wip fridnesday, that well-known day of the week, so i dug up a little keir and anders snippet. it’s not that deep it’s essentially just 1k of anders being embarrassing

(context: this is set at the end of the Act Break Breakdown™️, so basically keir hasn’t been in town for nearly a year in the time between act 1 and act 2. this also makes it set before any kind of relationship)

As soon as light bloomed inside the lantern, Anders nearly jumped out of his skin. There was a figure, waiting, in the dim light.

Hawke was in the doorway.

Hawke, of all people, was in the doorway.

As a mage, Anders was in the business of altering reality. Somehow no spell he had ever cast had seemed quite as improbable as the mundane fact of Hawke’s broad shape filling out the doorway of the clinic. He was a little hunched over, lending an awkward slant to the thick fur pelt worn over his shoulders, and letting his ragged dark hair fall loose to one side. It was longer than ever, almost to his waist. That was what startled Anders, more than anything: the reminder that it had been almost a year since the last he had seen of the man.

Frankly, he had not expected to see him again at all. “Hawke?” said Anders, baffled.

Hawke blinked, slow and cat-like. There was something strange to those yellow-gold eyes that had not been there before. Before Anders could place it, a motion of Hawke’s right arm, cradled to his chest, drew his attention. Anders only realised it was, in fact, an arm, when his sleep-deprived vision had cleared enough to see past the blood.

The blood. In an entirely different voice—an uncharitable listener might have called it a yelp—Anders said, “Hawke!”

“Healer,” answered Hawke, with a grimace. He was only wearing light armour under the fur, nothing more than a chest-plate, pauldrons, and bracers, no doubt a born and raised Fereldan’s concession to Kirkwall’s latest bout of sweltering summer heat. It left the injured arm mostly bare. It was drenched in red, which had poured down from a thick, ugly gash across the meat of his bicep.

“Maker’s breath,” said Anders, rushing over and immediately taking his other arm by the shoulder to pull him into the clinic. He was mildly aware it was a liberty to take, after almost a year, but there was no standing on ceremony in the clinic, and Hawke had never minded before. “What happened?”

Allowing himself to be moved, and Maker knew Anders could never have moved him otherwise, Hawke said, “Carta.” Right. Never one to waste words, this one.

Anders headed for one of the cots, manoeuvring Hawke approximately in its direction so he’d take the hint and sit down. How long had he been standing out there? “Why didn’t you just come in?”

Hawke did take the hint and sit down. With his free arm—his left hand, and Anders idly noted the dexterity he had with it—he loosened the distinctly Fereldan brooch that pinned the fur pelt around his shoulders, letting it slide free, and raked his long hair to one side, out of the injured arm’s way. “The lantern wasn’t up yet,” he said, like this explained everything.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Anders. “You must have heard me moving around.”

Despite the pain the movement must have cost him, Hawke shrugged. “Lantern wasn’t up.”

There was no use standing over him, at Anders’ height. He sat next to Hawke on the cot so he could face the wound. He was dismayed, almost immediately, by how distracted he was by Hawke’s closeness.

Nearly a year, and he wasn’t over this? A little mortifying, he had to admit. Maybe it was just the surprise. The sudden immediacy of him, after such an absence without any thought of his return. The familiar smell of blood and sweat and kaddis, and an excuse to zero in on the muscular thickness of his arm. That was all. Anders reminded himself he had a job to do, and focused on examining the wound.

The first thing he noticed was that the cut had sliced a tattoo raggedly in half. It took Anders a moment to piece it together as the sword and anvil of the Red Iron’s sigil, a souvenir of Hawke’s indentured year with the mercenary band. Justice flashed like a throbbing headache behind Anders’ eyes, remembering the onslaught of refugees that they had both poured in with. So many forced to lower themselves to such depths, all for the questionable privilege of feeding into this meat grinder of a city. “Glad to be rid of this, are you?” he said lightly.

Hawke frowned down at it. Too late, Anders remembered who had done that year of service with him, who also wore that mark on her arm, and he cursed himself for ever forgetting. As long as Bethany was in the Gallows, he couldn’t let himself forget. “I can live without it,” he said.

Not on Anders’ watch.

He lifted his hands and began using his magic to feel out the shape of the injury, to understand the cut that had made it and the stitch that might weave it back together. In the heat of battle and desperation, he might have done quicker, clumsier work, but Hawke wasn’t in danger. (Though Anders dreaded to think what might have become of the arm if Hawke had waited for the bloody lantern an hour or two longer.) He could afford the luxury of taking his time. With any luck, he could save the tattoo with almost no scarring at all.

After several long minutes of near-silent work, Hawke said, “I missed this.”

Anders blinked, and looked up from the wound, outside of which he had almost forgotten that Hawke was there. Hawke was looking back at him, steady and contemplative. Anders kept noticing details he’d almost forgotten. Hawke had longer eyelashes than you’d somehow expect of a man of his roughness, hidden a little away into the fold of his eyes, only visible at this angle.

“What?” said Anders, backtracking from all thoughts of eyelashes to parse out what Hawke had said. “You’ve missed getting cut up? Tell me you’ve found a line of work that doesn’t involve that and you’ll really give me a fright.”

“Not that.” The corner of Hawke’s mouth had turned up slightly.

Well, that was worth pursuing. “Having your own private healer, then?” he said, and he added his best suggestive raised eyebrow, just for masochism’s sake. “It must have been a trial to do without me.”

“It was,” said Hawke, entirely seriously, as ever, which flummoxed Anders so thoroughly he looked back down at what he was doing, which was probably a good idea. “But I meant magic. I missed it.”

That stunned Anders even further into silence. He flexed his fingers as he pulled the seams of Hawke’s wound together, binding flesh to flesh, and tried to remember if he had ever heard anyone else say the word magic the way Hawke said it. It was not unlike the way the Warden-Commander had spoken the words: In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice. It was not unlike the way Justice had said justice, when he’d had a voice of his own to say it. It was not even particularly unlike the way Anders had heard Chantry sisters utter the Maker’s name. Reverence. For magic. He had not thought to hear it again.

[nonebinary-leftbeef]

DEVASTATING the lyric you've been mishearing is better than the real one

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[egophiliac]

Have you heard of the "Crowley is Malleus' dad" theory going around? Where Prince Levan (or whatever his name is) didn't actually die and just went out to get some milk and is now known as Dire Crowley, the silly man? The implications of that theory is absolutely hilarious when you think about it

hold on, we can figure this out, we just need LISTS

PROS THAT CROWLEY IS SECRETLY REVAAN/LEVAN/LAVERNE/WHATEVER:

unspecified fae of some kind, with similar coloring to Mal

the animal masks are apparently a Briar Valley thing

has some kind of big blackmailable secret that was alluded to in episode 4, and then as far as I know never brought up again

(unless this was just Azul bullshitting, which is extremely possible)

based on Diablo, which...maybe means something?

has canonically worn Dad Shorts

CONS:

(gestures to Crowley's entire personality)

NO LISTEN Revaan was the guy they sent off on diplomatic missions and to take care of delicate political situations, and...look, I love this dweeb, but would you trust Crowley to be in charge of negotiating your war treaties

despite my brain insisting on reading his name as "Raven", Revaan's title does imply that he was also a dragon (or super into longan berries, I'm not ruling that out)

currently unclear why Lilia "my closest friend Revaan...he is no longer with us...I used to make fun of him for being kind of a priss about eating jerky..." Vanrouge has somehow not noticed or said anything

Malleus' Aloof Anime ~Aristocrat~ vibe had to come from somewhere, and by all accounts it was NOT his mom's side of the family

???:

turns into a bird in the opening, I don't know if that means anything but it's kinda cool, I guess

all that aside, if Malleus and Yuu are any indication, then the Draconias have...questionable taste in their social choices. so anything is possible!

[fiona-fififi]

...

[shayberri789]

Something about how in chapter 4 of trc Adam is insecure about the fray on his second hand sweater, and how it's a symbol of his background and insecurities, and how most people don't notice it, and if they did, they didnt think better of him for it

And how Blue saw it immediately and it was something she liked about him, a girl too good at seeing the vulnerabilities of other people, but Adam didnt want someone to see his insecurities, didn't want someone to acknowledge that life

But Gansey did. Gansey needed someone to see him at his worst and love him for it, and blue did that

And how Adam needed someone to see him at his most unruly, and encouraged that

And Ronan makes Adam loud

[ratatatastic]

lmaoooo maffhew wanting the knot immediately and having to wait for sasha to catch up with that is so deeply funny like. this omega is not subtle and you’re not a stupid alpha babe! can only imagine what benny has to say to maffhew about it once he catches on and stops banging his head against a wall

idiots to lovers is always great but especially when its two people who would be hitched with 10 kids by now if they stopped being dumb for a single second like its that easy and yet...

to me they very much fall around the same time (infatuation at first scent if you will) just that sasha takes some time to get there not because he's dumb (okay he's a little dumb) but in the sense that its like "this person is very interested in me, i can see and recognise that but theres so much cognitive dissonance in my brain right now between knowing that intrinsically and finding that hard to believe so i unintentionally play dumb because obviously i'm reading too much into things it cant be me they're interested in haha that'd crazy but they're being awfully touchy and flirty with me wow"

but also it takes two to tango and we have to acknowledge that and this is when i would love to bring up the ways in which this man decides is the best way to go about that because he is a catholic school girlie... there's so much hilarity to be had here especially because his flirting is very uh how you say... a little ass backwards if you will especially considering dynamics

"I make it a point to keep the door closed when we're alone in a room together! That's basically a clear invitation that I'm down to fuck!!! Im basically asking to be ragdolled on his knot!!!"

and Benny just pinches the bridge of his nose like "I don't know how to explain to you in a way you'll understand that not everyone went to Catholic school."

But saying that Sasha does side-eye the door knob heavily when Maffhew goes over to close it the first time and he starts sweating like he just got dragged into a game of 7 Minutes in Heaven he did not sign up for and he's 13 again and oh god he got paired with a really cute girl, and he hasn't even had his first real kiss yet and-

And then absolutely nothing happens because Maffhew is just waiting with a polite expectant smile (because his work here is done, he did the heavy lifting know it's Sasha's turn) and this is when Sasha's dynamic classes training kicks in and he basically scolds himself for even assuming in the first place because this is clearly a show of trust (correct) not an invitation for extra circular activities (incorrect buzzer noise) and it basically becomes "This Omega really trusts me, I'm honoured especially as Pack Leader that I'm able to be so accepted into such a private space with the inherent knowledge that I will not encroach their boundaries whatsoever because consent is verbal, this is not in any way an invitation to take advantage of them this is deep platonic trust I will guard with my life :]"

and if you listen closely you can hear the lovely sounds of Maffhew bashing his head into a wall about how much of a gentleman Sasha is but also COME ONNNNNN... you know... once Maffhew realises what's happening which (looks at my watch) is not due for another few months really

Battle of wills: unstoppable force (maffhews catholic school understanding of dynamic interactions) vs immovable object (overseas alpha cotillion classes)

And if you think it's an Oh! An overseas dynamic thing! It's not. The Euros are watching the horrible car crash in front of them and doing absolutely nothing about it because it's none of their business, but they will stare at it... maybe judge it a bit but definitely are observing from the tall grass.

and I'm also not saying that luosty lundy forsy and bobby have a current running bet of how long it'll take for maffhew to break sasha in but i'm also not not saying that... luosty goaded lundy in the midst of a gossip session ("It has to be 3 months, right?) forsy happened to be around so lundy turned to him for advice ("7 months.") and maybeeee bobby overheard from all the way over from his stall and puts in his two cents for what it's worth ("6. Captain nice but not that nice. Very impatient." "So 3!" "No. Impatience makes him double the time, and wait longer. 6 months.") (lundy finally settles on a good 5 months because he's indecisive)

And Sasha does eventually pick up everything maffhew is throwing down... eventually... and when he does it becomes more so I want to court this omega the way they deserve I will take this slow and romance them sweetly :) *smash cut to maffhew caterwauling like a cat in heat*

but also once again its not like maffhew is helping sasha in any way this is idiot4idiot and benny would like to enjoy the car crash with the euros but unfortunately that's his soulmate, thats his bestie, his littermate from birth who has been weaned on the same teat as they climbed over each other to get to it, the first girl you kissed in your childhood bedroom because somehow you started play fighting on the bed because she was like i could totally pin you down easy and then she does and you always noticed how beautiful she was but shes even more gorgeous when she's pinning your wrists to your hannnah montana duvet you promised yourself youd changed out before she came over but you forget and well she teased you about it and you cant help but giggle about how perfect this all is and it seems that the natural conclusion to this is to taste the strawberry lipgloss of her lips because whats a kiss between besties huh its tacky and sticky and it tastes like summer and just other apt metaphors to put here about the inherent -isms of their relationship that i nearly cant put to words properly other than girls having fun (they are fucking)

and well anyways benny is watching and he has a lot of things to say about how its been proceeding so far

"You should really use your words."

"I am!"

"Right because smelling like a fucking perfume shop in the middle of October is using your words."

"This usually works with most Alphas okay!"

"Sasha isn't most Alphas."

"Tell me about it." Matthew grouses before he peeks over to Sam, looking up from beneath his eyelashes—the exact way he knows both endears him to Sam but also absolutely miffs him all the same, "Worked on you, didn't it?"

"Oh, is that what we're doing right now? We're calling getting a lapful of a preening O in preheat in the middle of a roadie a normal way to go about these things."

"It worked didn't it?" Matthew reiterates.

"It would work better if you use—"

"Okay! Alright!! I get it!!!" He does not.

like benny here is unfortunately an active listening participant in the going ons of the fuckery if not because hes involved by proxy because of maffhew because who else will hold his hair back as he calls him a dumb bitch you know

[silver-dragonborn]

About Rhaena's storyline

I've heard rumors about Rhaena's story arc, and I swear to all that is holy if she gets blamed for the little ones being kidnapped or worse, I will lose my shit. I'm scared because the same woman who should have saved that vitriol for Alicent, who made her life hell, will unleash it on the girl she practically raised and show her little to no grace. Also, if the writers are going down the Rhaena/Nettles storyline, I'll doubly lose my shit if she calls for Rhaena's death to "avenge" her boys.

This will set off a domino effect where Rhaena will be written in fanfiction as incompetent or a secret agent of the Greens and the newest punching bag for hardcore Daemyra fans who hate anything or anyone related to Laena. Even worse, Rhaena's character will be completely ran through the mud by show watchers who have never read the book. Also, it wouldn't make sense for Rhaenyra to lay blame at Rhaena's feet because she gave her specific instructions to write to the Prince of Pentos for sanctuary. I don't know maybe I'm worrying over nothing but I pray that this doesn't happen.

[spideyladman]

When my parent starts telling me something that she remembers that clearly doesn't sound like me and I know damn well it's her own words because I've heard it a million times coming out of her mouth:

[cheriekos]

these are super, super informal and unorganized thoughts but god these panels are haunting me so:

it’s interesting to finally be reading some of the issues that i assume influence general fanon perception of damian because there’s so much emphasis on the actions against tim (and like yeah fair, fucked up let’s not move past that) but also there’s little moments sprinkled throughout that made me go “…this is a child. This is a whole child.”

like idk man! These two pieces of dialogue are very striking to me! “See? I can be useful!” And “Look at me, Mother!”. Maybe it’s just because I work with kids but i read this and very clearly hear a child’s voice! And sometimes i think because a lot of people get caught up in the “formal” way that damian speaks that people forget he’s a kid. A very competent, highly trained kid. But he’s a kid.

Again, i don’t think Damian’s actions can be brushed off just because he’s a kid, and (within the content of the Morrison run), has had some fucked up shit going on. But like - for fanon, I’m just begging folks to strike the balance between talking about Damian being held accountable for his actions and also understanding that in this point in time he’s like maybe nine or ten-years-old. Idk! I’m tired of reading analysis and fan fiction that absolutely crucifies Damian and doesn’t try to find the nuance at all.

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

Okay so I am back to reading Star Wars books, and I have JUST started Shatterpoint and I already know this books is gonna be great because..

No more than a couple pages in (it’s an e-book idk how many pages in the physical copy it is..it might be the first page idk 🤷🏻‍♀️) Mace Windu expresses regret over not killing Dooku on Geonosis

He’s overthinking and stressing over that decision and why he made it

And what is one of the reasons he couldn’t bring himself to kill Dooku?

Because they were friends

Because he LOVED HIM

Yeah. You read that correctly. Mace Windu loved Count Dooku. His words. Not mine. He used the word love. They were friends before Dooku left the order and Windu admits it to himself that he could not let him go, could not separate the jedi he knew with the man in front of him.

That’s right. Mace Windu. The man whom so many fans believe is a cold and unfeeling asshole.

That man, believes that he potentially allowed his love for the Dooku that was his friend stop him from killing him.

He thinks he might’ve

allowed his emotions to cloud his judgement

and cannot get over that feeling of regret.

And that is so goddamn important to me.

[acourtofquestions]

Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:

She'd rebuild it—what she had been.

Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.

Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."

"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.

"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."

"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.

Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.

Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.

At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.

In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.

She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.

Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."

A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.

She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."

Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."

"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."

Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.

"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."

"I do know."

"And?"

"And what do you wish me to say?"

She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"

"If what?"

"If you wish it wasn't so."

His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"

She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.

It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.

"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."

She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.

"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"

"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."

"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."

"Then it is her choice, not yours."

Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."

"What did she show you?" A breathless question.

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."

She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."

His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"

She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.

Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."

She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.

"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.

"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."

A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"

"We'll face it together," he swore again.

"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.

Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."

She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."

She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.

She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

"I thought you might want to be asked first."

"That never stopped you before."

"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.

She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."

He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.

"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."

The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.

"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.

Together.

[kimjunnoodle]

at the Gender bar and the bartender notices me. "The usual?" he says, reaching for a vial of estrogen. "Naw, I'm off the stuff." I reply. He looks surprised for a moment and reaches to a cabinet and pulls out A vial of testosterone. "Enjoy, Sir."

[sassyandclassy94]

I just love how people put so many f-words in their 1930s boys in the boat fics🙄 and that it’s said so much in the HBO War series. Guess what guys? My great grandfather LIVED in that time AND he spent time in the Army Air Corps and he said (as told by my MOM who actually ASKED him this when he was still alive) that people did NOT throw the f-word around back then. In fact it was scarce even in the military, let alone society.

So there, Tom Hanks and all you lil fic writers. Your use of vulgarity in fics/series, is NOT cute nor makes you sound intelligent, but instead it makes your stories painfully inaccurate.

[dayssinceabrandcrossedmarkiplier]

100 days since a brand crossed Markiplier

29/8/23

(Be careful when reading the tags if you're sensitive to, albeit glancing, references to sexual assault/grooming)

[coridallasmultipass]

Vent/grief