#also I promise most of this is /lh

[torchickentacos]

The fact that Brock hates Drew is sooo funny to me but understandable tbh. Imagine being Brock. You've questionably made it your life goal to woo every woman you come across, and it goes poorly despite all of your best (and worst) attempts. and then some random bratty green 10/11 year old with a pet houseplant has more game than you and gets a canon-adjacent ship in like a sixth of the time it took you to accomplish nothing at all. like yeah I'd be fucking pissed too. what's even the point anymore. how do you survive that.

[kiisaes]

Hey girl sorry for the spoilers a week early, but… now that you’ve read it have we won we’ve won right? 🏳️‍🌈

yeah, i mean it's what i expected tbh. not explicitly canon bkdk but the relationship is positive and vague and open-ended enough where you can interpret it as romantic if you wish! clearly bkg desired dk enough to lead his support gear fund so they can pursue their dreams together. i'd count that as a win in my book

also re: endgame ships my friends and i had a running joke about the infamous makorra poppin bottles meme but about izck. i can finally post it now

[seventh-district]

again and again i find myself lamenting that audio roleplay isn't taken more seriously by some people. like yeah, they often have a romantic element, and by nature they usually directly involve/address the listener- and i totally get that those things aren't to everyone's taste. no art or entertainment is universally appealing, and that's okay! but.. it still makes me a lil sad that the "cringe" reputation of asmr/audio rp precedes it. there's a whole lot of talent and creativity being poured into these audios by so many people that i feel goes unrecognized and/or disrespected simply due to the medium that the stories are being told through.

[thevalleyoftriumph]

love the zero votez for shiver on that poll btw guyz. poor thang

[chaoticspacefam]

Tragic Greek Figures Meme

I was tagged by @vihola to do the which tragic greek figure are you? quiz for some OCs so oh boy here we go I hope y’all ready to cry bc SAME ;w; tagging (no pressure and only if ya want to!) @tearlessrain @darth-bagel @swtorcompanionsgoofin @outcastcommander @mercurypilgrim​

D’leah: Bellerophon

chimera-killer, pegasus-tamer, eater of your own soul: icarus flew too close to the sun, but you flew too close to gods who would prefer to remain untouched. could you not find enough joy in being a hero, a husband, a father and a king? olympus will never accept your presence upon its mountaintop, so best quit while you're ahead, before your horse bucks.

Kissai: Patroclus

clever patroclus, beloved patroclus, poor patroclus: you do fall into madness, nor vanity, nor hubris. not, that is, for your own sake. love for that golden-haired man, sorrow for your countrymen; it is for his name that you don his armor, and for the dying greeks that you ride into battle. every piece of you is willingly given away, even if after you are gone there are wicked things done in your name. 

and Bonus Saarai because I was Very Curious how she’d compare to her folks sorrynotsorry

Saarai: Achilles

best of the greeks, eager for honor, and quick to rage: you could easily live content and easy until you're gray-haired, but glory and fame call for you just beyond the horizon. you are not prone to self-reflection and trip into the same pits of wrath at bruised pride over and over. are you truly ready to sacrifice everything so that your name will be immortalized? is your fury what you want to be remembered for?

[amara-laz]

Is "mayhaps" in there (or mayhap)

(I think it might be my favourite non blorbo-related word)

sadly no :( please take this passage with "maybe" in it as an apology

"Colette… is a little strange," Lucas admitted. "Sometimes she'll intentionally seek me out, and sometimes I can't help but think she's avoiding me. Maybe it's because I was close with Yesenia? I know she always wanted to be closer to her."

[mukimokai]

okay no cuz why is every kinich ship valid smh

TW: LONG ASS RAMBLING BUT FUNNY SILLY CUTSIE I PROMISE

kinlani is kinlani. like omg have you seen them: sunshine social butterfly girlfriend and her introverted moon boyfriend that she loves unconditionally. And it's a new concept for her once abused boyfriend who thinks everything comes at a cost: who gets confused when Mualani just loves him without asking for anything in return and he just loves it so much it makes him weak for her; he'd do anything for her without asking for payment like he does with anyone else because she helped him heal and she's his darling little wife who he'd do anything for.

ajawnich (ajaw with the ability to go into human form because seriously. we NEED human ajaw in more ways than one) is your typical doomed mortal x immortal tragedy in which a dragon who is new to human emotions and thinks lowly of humans slowly starts to understand humanity over the years with his infuriating yet kind human companion. Both are emotionally constipated fools; Ajaw pining like a lovesick idiot because he's supposed to hate his companion and want him dead but when that day of death finally comes, Ajaw feels no joy or happiness: just empty as he looks himself in the mirror, touching his face, or, well, Kinich's face.

oronich (idk the ship name, but also it exists lol) is two characters who are seen somewhat as outsiders by their own tribes: Kinich, while loved by most of the children, has a negative reputation for his job while Ororon is seen as a problem child and cast out of society. The two ostracised characters coming together in a doomed "we're kinda similar, aren't we?" Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham style (from stranger things, sorry chat) and forming an unexpected yet wholesome and definitely welcome bond with each other (they'd tend to their garden together).

lynich (a rarepair!! a popular rarepair is a miracle honestly) is two traumatized boys, the flirt and the flustered. One who speaks the truth outright, and one who's every word is a lie. One who thinks everything comes at a price, and one who thinks everything is a trick. When Lyney tells Kinich about his connections with the Fatui, Kinich isn't mad, surprised, but not mad. How could he be? When he knows why Lyney joined? He accepts him with open arms, Weighing the costs, befriending a member of the Fatui would most likely leave him out of their shadier affairs since Lyney would never harm him, right? Right. Even when Lyney succeeds Arlecchino, Even when he becomes a harbinger, even after everything: they're together, despite all the complications there are.

basically yeah. every kinich ship is valid rn. those are the popular ones at least-(ororon and kinich is not popular but it has more content than any others I've seen and ppl actually talked abt it at one point so it's being included)

citlali and kinich is being excluded bcz that's p3d0philia: fanbase, that was your lesson for shipping characters before we even know anything about them/before they're even released smh (/lh lololol)

-

to my unfortunate realization: kinlani is poppy and branch smh (singing killed his father and made his mother run away, okay). They're basically every cliche quiet boy and cliche loud girl duo ever in history and they have that absolutely based opposite aesthetic duo vibe going on and it's wonderful i love them to bits and pieces chat.

-

ajawnich is princess and the frog in which ajaw turns into a pixel dragon instead of a frog, or beauty and the beast in which ajaw's seal is the rose curse thingie, or both. or fluttercord, cant forget fluttercord. or billford, cant forget billford either. take your pick with them honestly.

-

oronich is chrissy and eddie, could also see it being christine and raoul from phantom of the opera in which ajaw is the phantom, kinich is christine, and ororon is raoul.

(wait that's genius, im a fucking genius chat. someone make that an AU and credit me right NEEEEOW.)

-

and lynich is kinda just there i dont really know anything else to compare it to but it's giving that one scene in tom and jerry where it's like: "I love you. *smothers in kisses* Why, you set my soul on fire. *smothers in kisses* It is not just a little spark. It is a flame; a big roaring flame. I can feel it now *smothers in kisses*" (the person doing the kissing and talking is lyney in case you couldn't tell LMAOOAO)

-

anyways yeah

basically kinich harem i guess

i love being a multishipper because i can collect ships like a bitch and fawn over so many a time whenever i want >:3

also i love the whiplash between some of these: like kinlani and oronich were so wholesome and then you have AUGHHGHG angst with lynich and ajawnich smh.

sorry for rambling lmao but yeah

[causenessus]

tonics

part 0.05. INTROS

NEXT UP: PICKHEADS

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

JUST IN CASE!! here is the role of everyone in the band:

yn -> lead singer and guitarist, main lyricist

atsumu -> backing vocals most of the time (has a few songs where he's the lead singer, such as natural devotion) and guitarist, also contributes heavily to writing songs

omi -> bassist

noya -> drums

yn named omi and noya after the noise their instruments make (omi maintains that if your bass is going twang that is NOT good but she doesn't care bc she thought it was funny) and then she basically just called atsumu her sidekick/side piece <3 cause that's what he is <3

"pickheads" was a name that originated at one of the tonics' first practices and y/n called atsumu a dickhead and threw a guitar pick at him and he went "...pickhead?" as he slow rose up the guitar pick she threw and it was such a horrible pun noya drew his drumsticks at him and omi threw a shoe

atsumu is loved i promise

he's also just the target of abuse /lh

they all run the tonics twitter account, noya probably posts the most, and tries to keep up a daily "cat meme" post streak, y/n often tweets the most random out of pocket things on there (she tries to advertise their gigs and the ends up doing something like dissing on apple music), atsumu comes on to say things like "hey pretty 😉 hope ur having a good day <3 -atsumu" (which annoyingly always blows up), and omi probably tweets the least on there but usually just tries to tweet info about upcoming gigs and releases

atsumu HATES when noya and y/n interact and jokingly flirt in the gc bc he's literally RIGHT THERE but that's the entire reason they do it and omi often joins in

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @semieita24srockstargf @savemebrazilhinata @akaakeis @sandwitches @miiyas @moucheslove @0moonii @soulfullystarry @lunasfics @strawberryuri @guitarstringed-scars @edenswhale @1929sleepdeprived @aattsu @zazathezaer @loverlunaire @samuel1004 @phoenix-eclipses @wakashudou @cyenac @milesmoralesluvs @theycallmenanamisgirl @shinjuuz @linhhs @southernfrogprincesd @gsyche @sharkerino @puppenpop @fishrene @dazqa @clevertravelermoon @softpia @thiisisntlovely @mariaace @corvid007 @itsdragonius @iwaijime @chemiru @mfcherry @walllflowersss @bectoshi @from-mae @scaramoche @smellysluna @miilkbred @nobodybutnnoorr @just-coreee @starkyu

[his-tamine]

SPIDER'S ATTEMPTING HIS VERY FIRST COMMS!!!! RAAAA!!!!! (I’m legit sooo fucking nervous - everyone point & laugh /lh)

Info below ↓ (looks like way more than it is)

- As I said, this is my first time doing commissions, so thank you in advance for your patience with me. Contact me via email (coyotespicer@gmail.com), Tumblr DMs, or Discord (eldritchwhore_) - whichever you’re most comfy with - if you’re interested! I'm also open to using other social media(s) you prefer, just let me know what. :]

I WILL draw:

NSFW (only of 18+ characters)

SFW (characters of all ages)

Fan art

Gore/Injury

Ship Art

etc. (just lmk)

I WON'T draw:

The obvious (anything hateful or illegal)

Furry (genuine skill issue on my part)

Mecha (again: skill issue)

Realism

ETC.

you can always request to see my progress, but I will show you when I am halfway finished, either way, incase you want to make any changes.

$ up front - it won't be spent until after completion.

Payments via Paypal, Cash App, or Venmo.

-

MORE INFORMATION:

If you do decide to commission me, first of all, thank you sooo much in advance! And Please keep in mind, that there is a vanilla family member currently holding and running all of the financial service apps (Paypal, Venmo, Cash App.) They do know that I draw adult content, but they do not know the specifics of what kinds of adult content (& I'd love to keep it that way lol.) So if you do decide to leave a note with your payment, please, please, PLEASE, make sure that the note is appropriate, otherwise blank is also completely fine. Have mercy on my soul, basically. If you are getting some NSFW artwork and wanna talk specifics, please do so with the email provided above (& again right here: coyotespicer@gmail.com), Tumblr DMs, Discord, etc. so that you know you are talking to me.

Also, if you contact me & don't get a response right away, my timezone is EST (I could be asleep,) and my life's been a little stressful lately to say the least. But I promise that I will get back to you ASAP. Furthermore, if there are any delays during the process of actually making your commission, I will immediately reach out to you and keep you in the loop. - major shoutouts to my homies, @indulgnc - for helping me figure everything out. He helped me with the base sheet, some common art terms that I somehow didn't know the meanings of, coming up with good prices, & basically walked me through the entire process. I would’ve been way too clueless and way too chicken shit to even attempt this without him.

and @dsnzfb - for allowing me to use a drawing I made of her ocs Cactus & Rose, as one of the examples above. I needed a good example of a colored bust-up, & dye’s color palette for her characters is so gorgeous. thank you guys for always being so supportive - y'all rock. I don't know if I can actually do anything to help dig myself & my family out of the hole we’re in with ocs, & kink art, but goddamn it, I will certainly try. -

[chernabogs]

ames you are COOKING (or should i say, planting???lol) SO HARD with the flower language prompts, 😭💖💞💖💞✨✨am really out here sobbing and crying over them like im watering these flowers with my Tears lol

so here i am requesting for these prompts: rosemary, begonia, pink camellia, dark crimson rose, purple hyacinth, blue salvia, zinnia

i picked these based on your initial tag about Maleficia and zinnia flower,,,, I SEE THE VISION so im requesting it now lol but also picked on prompts that reminded of Meleanor and Malleus,,, 😭i think therapy bills should be forwarded to Draconias instead, istg all they ever do is be in grief and loss /lh😭

if its too many, please feel free to choose whichever prompt you like and take your time in writing !! ☺️💞🌹✨✨

Ohhh I did my best here I promise LMAOOO. I tied in some easter eggs with other works i've done (namely Monody, Stasis, and Labours Gained). I hope you enjoy my absolute monstrous dump about Maleficia, whom I will die on a hill for tyvm

EMPTY CHAIRS

Inc: Maleficia, Meleanor, Levan, Lilia, Malleus (whole gang wow) WC: 4.2k :))) Warnings: Just some death, but I swear it ends on a happy note this time. Flowers: Begonia (How ghosts help the living live a little), Pink Camellia (Where I notice your absence the most), Dark Crimson Rose (The grave I visit everyday), Purple Hyacinth (The worst pain of my whole life and how it healed… multiple times) , Zinnia (The seats at the table and how they eventually became empty… multiple times) Summary: Moments where Maleficia was convinced her family was cursed, and a few times she truly wished this to not be the case.

A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world.  It knows no law, no pity.  It dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.

Their family may be cursed. 

For many decades now Maleficia had toyed with the possibility of such a matter in her mind. It had first passed briefly with the death of her father—the second monarch to take over after the initial uprising—and the subsequent death of her mother a few weeks later. No one was surprised when she went. Her grief for the loss of her love had been so profound that it had flooded Briar Nation, drowning both cattle and crops in her dismay. Maleficia had postponed her own coronation as the cleanup occurred. It felt ill-boding to be crowned while bodies were floating down the mountain pass. 

The thought had returned once more when her husband vanished at sea, leaving her with a newborn hatchling on her own. Her love had been a strong headed man with adventure burning in his blood—it had been what drew her to him to begin with. That, and he was the only ex-sailor she knew who was bold enough to try and hold her for ransom. Wiping the deck with him had captured his heart—and the fact that he had been a dragon settled the Senate to a degree. But the sea is a fickle mistress, and although her love had skill and he had drive, even the most knowledgeable of sailors can never predict its next move. 

She had not flooded Briar Nation like her mother had, and she had held herself together before her people, although the empty space in her bed and at the dinner table deepened the wound nightly. It was in the quiet moments alone when it was just her and Meleanor that she felt his absence the strongest. 

In the beginning she loathed him for leaving her. Whenever she cradled their daughter as the hatchling shrieked and protested, blowing flame, and biting for flesh, she loathed him. Whenever she dealt with the Senate or another disaster befalling the Nation, she loathed him. 

But when Meleanor learned to fly, learned to run, and shifted into her two-legged form for the first time, the hatred began to fade. Because although he had vanished into the mists on a voyage destined to fail, he had left her with the greatest treasure she could ever have—and for that alone she could hold no ill will. 

Perhaps this sentimentality is why when Meleanor dragged a thin, sickly-looking bat into the halls of Black Scale, Maleficia heard her out.

“Please let him stay!” The princess had asked, green eyes wide as she grasped her mother’s skirts. “Please, mother!”

The other child had shrunk behind Meleanor, but shadows could not hide the burning defiance in the boy's eyes—a gaze of confrontation, and one that nothing truly innocent should hold. This is why she lacked the heart to say no. She quietly hoped that Lilia, as she would name him, would be the one to slay whatever reaper was following them—that the burning anger she had seen would ignite a fire that would cleanse the family of its suffocating misery. 

With the presence of Meleanor, Lilia, and eventually Levan, the silent table Maleficia had sat at for so long soon became a place of raucous conversation again. Although she found herself scolding the three children more than once (especially Levan for his non-subtle attempts at discarding food), the lingering warmth she would feel as she gazed at the trio made her confident that this family curse was on the bend. 

Naturally, it didn’t last. 

The first time she heard of the Silver Owls, Meleanor was 200 years old and more focused on warding off suitors than an unmarked ship. Maleficia had allowed her daughter to indulge by instead consulting with an advisor alone in the dark of her office. The concern lingering in the advisor's words would grow to haunt her.

“Perhaps it is temporary?” She posited, trying her best to remain optimistic on the matter. Plenty of people came and went from Cape Sunrise. A single unmarked ship with a few scraggly sailor’s was not something she felt the need to stress over. The advisor seemed doubtful on the matter.

“But they have tools. Items designed to dig up our soil,” they had insisted, but Maleficia dismissed the concerns with a wave and a blase response. 

“Let them try. They will not be able to break the first layer of our land.” 

___________________________________

The first one to leave the table had been Levan. There were many soldiers and nobles who vanished before he did but, selfishly, he was the first one that Maleficia really felt the absence of. Levan had grown up from a non-confrontational child to her son-in-law, a general of the princess and a father to the future heir. His compassion had not faded despite the years of war that now tore the Nation apart. Maleficia knew this by the way she came across him one night, cradling his egg so gently while murmuring against its shell. 

When he had noticed her, he had not corrected himself; if anything, he held the egg even closer. They had not exchanged too many words that night, but she sat next to him on the bench in the gardens, the silence speaking volume of her support to his decisions. 

“You will return.” It was not a question—it was a demand. Her voice held the authority of a queen who had seen many, many losses in her long life. Levan had remained silent for a moment longer as his lips brushed against the shell of her grandson's egg. 

“Always,” was the promise he made, and the last words Maleficia heard from him. When they didn’t receive notice for several days after he left, the conclusion was drawn that he was either dead, or the closest one could be to it. Meleanor held herself well in lieu of this information, as had Maleficia. 

But the empty seat felt an ill omen. 

___________________________________

The next one to leave the table had been Meleanor. When she was younger, she used to rest her head on Maleficia’s lap as her mother had fixed her hair. She would ramble on about her day and what she got up to with the two boys in the nonsensical fashion that many children do. Maleficia had listened with amusement, although her mind had always been half-focused on what she needed to do for her meetings the next day.

The regret of not giving Meleanor her full, undivided attention sunk in deep when she felt her daughter’s magic cut off. The bond in their family was intrinsically woven to allow them to get a sense of whether the other members were still alive. If asked, Maleficia might say it’s something of a dragon trait. Most of the time it served to be a blessing to allow her to know her family is alive and well. 

When it cut off mid-emergency meeting, the abruptness had been so profound that she nearly collapsed then and there. Her breath had hitched, her words stuttering to a stop as she stared wide-eyed at the Senate members surrounding her. At first, she hoped it was simply a fluke—a disruption in the magic—until she didn’t feel it return and the horrible, tar-like panic of a mother when her child goes missing welled up in her heart. She was tearing out of the room before any of the Senate members even had a chance to speak, screaming for her guards and her soldiers to tell her what was going on at Wild Rose. 

Her daughter, who spent her childhood running through the forests and laughing in the face of suitors. Her daughter, whose hair she would braid and then re-braid again when the girl somehow got burs in it. Her daughter, who was set to become a mother herself and experience all the precious moments Maleficia had. 

Her daughter, whose body wasn’t even recovered at the end of it all. 

___________________________________

The final one to leave the table was Lilia. In wake of the princesses passing, Malleus’ egg was put in the cradle tower, and Maleficia was designated to spirit him into hatching. She felt the faint connection of their magic from within the thick shell that guarded his body. His warmth, the subtle movements he made; they were all indicators that he was still alive and well despite his tumultuous arrival.

But Maleficia didn’t know if he would oblige. Hatchlings often needed the love of both parents to be shepherded forward—and Maleficia, now over eight hundred years old, already felt the strain of her magic from the conflicts going on in her Nation. There was no doubt that she held love for her grandson—but a lingering fear that her love wouldn’t be enough burned in her mind. This is what made her turn to Lilia, to send him on his quest around the world to try and find an additional means to bring the young prince forward.

For the first few decades, it worked well. Maleficia held the egg on a nightly basis and poured as much of her love and magic into it as she could. The egg consumed it all in a greedy fashion, demanding more every time she returned to the tower. One would think that Malleus was starving within by the way he pulled, and tore, and ripped at her powers to fuel his own development. 

Then he ceased feeding. She recalls the first night it happened; everything had been going well, until the connection was suddenly severed, and the green glow within the egg dulled back into a faint tint of color. Maleficia had initially dismissed it as a one-off event. Until it happened again, and again, and again. 

There’s a curious sense of panic that fills someone when they do everything they can to no avail. The panic she felt came in the form of a privatized breakdown in the tower. For many decades now Maleficia had toyed with the possibility of a curse in her mind. Now, she was beginning to consider that it was not her family who was cursed, but rather just herself. 

First it came for her father, and her mother shortly after. Then, when it grew hungry again, it ate through her husband and that of her daughters. Then it came for Meleanor herself, and now whatever reaper followed them was looming over her shoulder as she held Malleus’ egg and begged him to take something. 

Pleas fell from the lips of a monarch as she rocked the egg, stroked its shell so softly, whispering to just eat a little more, just take a little more. But the egg had remained as cold and aloof as it had for several nights now. Her desperation mounted in an order to Baul to summon Lilia back—to slay whatever reaper was following them before it pried the last of her bloodline from her hands. 

Her hopes of his role as the vanquisher of death came in an explosive hatching that she was informed of after it occurred. When she requested for Lilia to be brought to Black Scale to be reinstated in his role in his efforts, the Senate had then informed her that Lilia Vanrouge would never step foot in the capital again.

And so, in a span of mere moments, the final seat was emptied—and Maleficia found herself alone once more. 

___________________________________

Grandchildren are the best reminders  of the beauty and innocence of childhood.

When Malleus was first brought to her after he hatched, she didn’t want to touch him. The purple hue of his stomach and the way his green gaze darted around, drinking in the new world he emerged to, reminded her so much of Meleanor that she wanted to laugh at the cruel irony. The hurt that smouldered in her heart ignited back into a flame that found her turning a cold shoulder to the hatchling. 

“Go clean him. He has amniotic fluid all over.” She remembers ordering, voice deceptively calm for the turmoil happening within. The wet nurse that was hired obliged as the hatchling shrieked and protested the frequently changing environment around him. His cries made Maleficia clench her jaw tighter as she stared resolutely at the battle plans drawn before her, her hands gripping the table enough to turn her knuckles white. 

A few times she went to him in the beginning. The encounters lasted only as long as Maleficia could tolerate seeing how similar he looked to Meleanor before she would depart and leave him in the care of his wet nurse once more. Guilt fought with anger in her heart about the circumstances that she found herself in and her inability to overcome them. She could feel the ghost of her daughter chastising her in the corner for being so cowardly in her approach. 

The breakthrough arrived when Malleus became ill. Grieves—a fever-like condition that affected fae children in particular—resulted in Maleficia sitting with her grandson one night as the exhausted wet nurse was excused for a long overdue break. She held him on her lap in the dark as his small form fought his fever, whispering how the stars that looked down from above were the eyes of the people who loved him, keeping him safe in this world. Her voice had cracked as she spoke, and it was only when a small whine left him did she realize she was hugging him tight to her body. 

“I am so sorry,” she had choked out, unsure if the apology was for the hold she had or the neglect she had given so far. “Please forgive me.”

Malleus had twisted in her arms, small wings fluttering before he settled himself down and began to doze. He had already forgotten what upset him to begin with. She wished it would always be that way—but she knew that was nothing but a vague hope. 

She loathed Meleanor for leaving. Whenever she cradled Malleus as the hatchling threw his tantrums, blowing flame, and biting for flesh as all children seem to do, she loathed her. Whenever she dealt with another part of the war or signed another treaty alone, she loathed her. 

But when Malleus scrambled onto her lap mid-Senate meeting, chased after courtiers, and flew for the first time (admittedly, into a flock of pigeons), Maleficia loved her. Because although like her father she had vanished in an ill-fated decision, she had left a small reminder that she was never truly gone. Maleficia could comfort Malleus, could see the ghost of his mother in his clever little eyes, and for that alone she could hold no ill will. 

Meleanor’s death had proved to be far worse than anything else—but her gift of the small dragon in her lap felt like the first steps towards recovery again. So, she had kissed between his horns that night and promised to herself that she would do all that she could to give him a future free of the misery that plagued their family thus far. 

___________________________________

In the aftermath, she spent time with him whenever she could. Via dinners, via having him sit in on meetings, via walks in the gardens—whenever she could, she would be there. However, despite her newfound presence changing some things for the better, she remained unable to quell the curiosity that burned in her grandson's mind. 

She found him in the mausoleum once. He was standing on the toes of his mother with his small hand touching her stone-carved face. Maleficia had not been to the mausoleum since the boy hatched so many years ago. The raw memories still stirred in her heart and seeing him look up at his mother with such a gaze of innocent adoration did nothing but unsettle her more. 

When he noticed her, his face had lit up into a smile as he hopped back down and pointed up to one of the other statues. “This is grandfather?” 

Maleficia’s gaze slid to where he was pointing. A strong jaw, a dangerous glint in stone-etched eyes, and a faint smirk painted the picture of the man she had once loved and held so dearly many years ago. Maleficia nodded. Malleus, taking this as encouragement, then ran back to the other statue he had been touching with his small hands. 

“And this is mother?” 

Again, Maleficia nodded. The painful similarities between Malleus and his mother were more apparent when they were side to side. If Maleficia were to squint, she could mistake Malleus as a younger Meleanor: the same horns, same hair length, even the same streak of mischief that got both into so much trouble. 

Malleus had hummed thoughtfully before stepping down again. “Do you miss them?” 

A deceptively innocent question. Of course she missed them. All she had left of her family was one grandson and three empty coffins: a husband at sea, a daughter in the hands of humans, and a son-in-law somewhere in the moors. “I do,” she offered back. “I miss them greatly.” 

Malleus had asked her why, then. Children like him were filled with innocence and wonder about the world. He had no knowledge of the bodies that were lost, or the tragedies that had predicated his birth. Her reply did nothing but fuel an unease in the boy, for moments after she offered it, he ran back to her and threw his small arms around her waist.

When he hugged her, he clung with a ferocity that was baffling for his size. Her hands rested on his head and stroked his hair soothingly as she had done with Meleanor many times before she guided him away from the tombs and the memory of family he never met.

She should visit them more often now. 

___________________________________

She rediscovers that there’s a privilege in watching someone grow. Lilia’s gradual return into their lives helps ease the stress of raising a child again in her older age, which is partially why she turns a blind eye every time Malleus slips out of the palace to visit the man. She’s honoured to observe in a more passive manner the way her grandson changes and grows as a person. She watches him go from spiteful towards humans to more amiable with the arrival of Lilia’s adopted son. As he grows before her eyes, she begins to see less of Meleanor and Levan in his features and more of just Malleus—the quiet, albeit arrogant, boy that was hers. 

Time goes by faster as she ages alongside him. One moment he’s clinging to her skirts, and the next he’s off to NRC, and then finally, 178 years have passed like the blink of an eye. She used to bemoan how slow time was—and now she wishes it to ease off a bit.

She’s sitting in the gazebo in the gardens for reprieve, a novel in hand as the screaming of insects choruses a song for her amusement. The aroma of flowers surrounds her and for a moment she feels utter peace in the world. The summer is ending and there are no celebrations or events to concern herself with. For the first time in what feels like eons, Maleficia Draconia can breathe. 

The sound of someone approaching puts a pause in this. 

She lowers her book to peer over at whoever is coming, hoping silently it isn’t an advisor or a courtier seeking out an audience on the sly. Fortunately, the sight of two horns and a scowling face turning the corner nullifies this as she turns back to her book. 

“Finally decided to see the sun?” She muses as she hears him stepping onto the gazebo platform. She waits for his response, but only comes to feel surprised when Malleus kneels by where she sits and does something that he hasn’t done in a long time now—he places his head in her lap. At his age, his body is too tall now to really kneel efficiently at her side, but by the gods does the boy try as he hits his head right down. Her hand comes up on instinct to brush strands of his dark hair behind his ear as he looks over the gardens, his shoulders tense with stress. 

They’re silent for a moment, listening to the sounds of screaming insects from beyond before Malleus speaks.

“The gardens look atrocious.”

Maleficia raises an eyebrow as she lowers her book to look at where he’s staring. Her hand continues to stroke his head soothingly as she huffs a soft laugh. “Our groundskeepers are going for a more ‘untamed’ look this season.”

“I have counted twenty-six thistles in the minute I have been here.” Malleus shoots back as his hand comes to rest by his face. “It’s late in the season. They might be growing lazy.”

 “Nonsense. You know how hard working they are. You spent ample amounts of time with them when you were younger.” She fails to hide the smile teasing on her lips with this comment. Malleus’ temper tantrums had landed him in more than enough problems in his youth. Problems which were often rectified by a gentle lesson of how hard it is to fix up his messes—garden destruction included. 

Malleus deigns her with a unprincely snort in response. They fall back into a warm silence as she keeps her hand on his head and returns her attention to her book. She knows that something is on his mind, but she retains her silence both to give him an opportunity to speak, and to enjoy the moment that they’re having. In the privacy of the garden, they can get away with this rare display of familial affection. 

She feels him sigh as his eyes flutter close before he speaks up. “Do you ever feel… unease?” 

“Unease?” She hums quietly as she turns a page. “On many occasions I have, yes. Unease tends to go hand in hand with some of the things I have dealt with.” 

She knows he doesn’t mean in the sense of his royal duties. Malleus is an unusually quiet and introverted boy—but she had noticed him being more so the past week as summer began to inch towards its end. He opens his eyes and sighs again before withdrawing to sit back on his knees. 

Maleficia wisely closes her book and sets it down before affixing him with as stern of a look as she can muster without chuckling. “Sighing and moping in the corners does little to aid me in providing advice.” 

Malleus’ gaze goes upwards to stare at the ceiling of the gazebo before his expression drops to a pout. “I am feeling reluctant to return to NRC.”

“Oh? And why is that?” 

Maleficia quietly reaches her hand out to brush his bangs back from his forehead, revealing the scale pattern beneath. Malleus’ eyes flutter shut at the gesture as his pout remains present.

“Three years have passed now, and I have yet to feel included in the school environment. Spending my days with those I already know from here hardly feels like an efficient use of time.” His jaw clenches. “Every effort I make to form any sort of connection to others feels like it’s a pointless endeavour at this rate.”

“Malleus, you must be patient with these things. It takes time for people to warm up to the likes of us. You must simply continue being yourself, and the right people will make the effort to get to know you. I understand it may seem upsetting right now, but you must simply keep trying your best.” A faint smile touches her lips despite the worry gnawing at her heart. She wishes she could do more, but she also understands that these are things he must figure out himself. “You’re going to this school to gain new experiences and see the world beyond our little Valley without the Senate looming over you. Things will work out in the end.” 

Malleus’ body seems to relax at her words as he opens his eyes again. His expression eases to his usual neutral look as he nods slightly. “... yes, I suppose you are correct.”

“I often am.” She pinches his cheek lightly, causing the scowl to immediately return to his face as he jerks to avoid her grasp, making her laugh in turn. “Besides, are you not excited to see Lilia, Silver, and Sebek more often again? Well. More often than you do already.”

A pointed look has him averting her gaze as she picks her book up again. His demeanour reminds her of Meleanor, but the similarities no longer ache when she considers them. This was Malleus—her grandson, not his mother, nor his father—and she was eager to see the person he was still destined to become. “Now, you should be packing, should you not? We don’t need the crisis we had last year where we were all hunting down books for you last minute.” 

Malleus groans softly before rising to his feet and brushing his pants off. He presses a brief kiss to her forehead, coaxing another smile from her lips before he pulls away. 

“Yes, grandmother,” he grumbles with all the moodiness of an embarrassed teenage boy, and Maleficia can’t help but feel happiness at seeing it. Cursed or not, she will continue to enjoy these moments of joy as long as she may have them.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

In the most /lh way possible , I honestly don't really think fanon killermare is ' knock off ' colorkiller ? Like I mean , even Fanon [ Multiple fanon interpretations , there's many .] Nightmare is very different from Color and I think each ship has its own interesting dynamics , so calling it ' off brand [other ship] ' seems a bit . Generalizing to me ??

[ apologies if this is hard to read or comes off as rude ! ]

No I get you. I’m promise im just pissy and also on my period lmao.

But here’s the thing. here’s the thing; people give Nightmare Color’s personality. They give him shit he never did for Killer, the stuff Color did. The stuff he worked on and he risked his life for and he tried so hard to do. And all he got for his efforts was being pushed aside and ignored and only brought up to demonize him and dismiss him and look down on him.

Yeah, I’m talking about the whole “killer falls in love with nightmare because he saved him” stuff. No Nightmare didn’t and this interpretation is so popular people genuinely think it’s true and as a result don’t even know who Color is at all. And when they do find out they’re dismissive or use him as bait for a pointless drama love triangle.

Ive literally had to convince people to care about what was already canon and there because people gave it all away to Nightmare like they did everything about Killer’s character and story. His entire character in fandom revolves around Nightmare, there’s hardly ANY killer centric stories that don’t involve shipping or Nightmare and it’s annoying.

Nightmare is in fact very different from Color; and that’s the thing. Most interpretations I see of fanon killermare hardly seem like Nightmare. It’s basically just Color in Nightmares skin with more sophisticated language.

People take away every single part of Color’s character and achievements and give it to a fanon Nightmare with a bit of a “darker gothic” twist and then complain about how Color and his friendship with Killer is “boring.” And im like; of course you think it’s boring.

You gave everything about his character and color spectrum duo’s relationship away to Nightmare and Killermare for absolutely zero reason. And it’s precisely because of that I have to shift through Killermare after Killermare to get even a smidge of anything with color. People find any excuse to get rid of friendships and ignore it and I hate it.

Color saved Killer. Color is helping Killer. Color is who Killer trusts the most, that’s his best friend, that’s how Killer turns to for safety and protection and stability and the first person he genuinely believed cared about him, one of the most important people in his life. If he’s dropping to his knees and worshipping anyone it’s Color—and Color will pull him back up to his feet and offer him a warm hug instead. Not Nightmare. That’s been the narrative for literal years now and it’s not true.

I haven’t seen any fanon interpretations of Killermare I could get behind besides maybe two that doesn’t make me think “Color could literally be doing and saying this” and the only reason he likely isn’t is because the person doesn’t know Color exists or wants to demonize him and give away all his hard work to a canonical kidnapper and trafficker and abuser.

I’d rather see Nightmare grow and change as a person and actually do something to earn Killers trust and loyalty. I’m sick of it being freely given because people want to ignore his canonical abuse at Nightmares hands. And I want this change to happen precisely because Color challenges him and offers to help him too in the end when he needs it.

So basically: I hate that fanon Killermare often completely ignores what Nightmare did to Killer. I hate what it does to Killer’s character and story. I hate that it ignores Color most of the time or only to demonize him. I hate that friendship or queer platonic relationships aren’t cared about in this fandom as much as romantic or “found family” ones even tho Killer and Color are found family and so are the entire Chromatic Crew.

People are free to disagree and keep shipping whoever they want, that’s not my issue and i don’t want to ruin people’s fun even as i complain. I just wish Color Spectrum Duo, and Color, and bits of Killers canon got more actual care and respect and attention. And also please tag yalls stuff with the proper ships so I can chose not to engage with it (not directed at anyone.)

[ri5bi]

If u say request stuff thennnn

Youre a fan of CAS right? Can i request big biiiig raph giving a ride to tiny raph so that he can experience getting a piggy back ride as well for once :>

Or maybe big leo and small leo having a sword fight or something, with big leo showing off his skills one handed even because thats honestly something i need so badly

Or if you rather like mikey, maybe big and small mikey hanging out and painting together! Or maybr cooking

And lastly, if ur more of a donnie fan, the donnies are doing mischief together, tomfoolery even, teaming up against their common enemy: beach balls

All these are just ideas though and if you feel like doing any of them go ahead and if not just ignore me pfffffff

Have an awesome day!!!!

I'M ALIVE I SWEAR

sorry for the delay, finals week had me down for the count and winter break was stock FULL of errands and adulting and grahh i hate being responsible

anyhoodle, i absolutely LOVE your ideas!! so much so that i spent most of my downtime drawing all of them :') please feel free to send more whenever you'd like <3

they're definitely headed to the carousel ride

broke: they would sulk together about their guilt and martyr complexes

woke: they would make insufferable sparring partners /lh

the only thought in my head with this one was "ratatouille" even though future mikey is probably still good at cooking (and is also teaching present mikey how to be ~magical~)

this is a panel pulled from a (very rough) comic i've been working on (and is also the other main reason why i haven't been active lol). i won't spoil anything, but it's gonna be a while before i polish it enough to post it (and yes, there will be beachballs i promise)

again, you're ideas are awesome, dude! one of my big new years resolutions is to draw and post more, so thanks for taking the time to reach out :)

[mossyboy69]

FMAB Post Canon Headcanons that no one asked for:

Ed sometimes still uses his left hand for fine motor tasks or to feel the texture of things despite having his right arm back

his right shoulder acts up during bad weather

He never goes through surgery to remove the leftover bits of automail from his shoulder

he says he doesn't want someone to mess with his body to cover up the fact that his previous surgeries were really traumatic and he's afraid of having to go through recovery again

Winry is the only person that is allowed to touch his automail leg

when she's too pregnant to work Ed has to go to another mechanic and all he does is gush about her amazing work

Ed goes through physical therapy to get his strength back in his right arm

He secretly keeps his state alchemist watch (he makes up some lie about how he lost it to Roy)

And proceeds to make his and Winry's wedding rings out of

Al gets a small pendant made out of Ed's pocket watch (is there enough metal for all that? I don't really know or care /lh)

While traveling after the promised day Ed realizes that he gets nightmares when he sleeps alone (which leads to some awkward talks with Al)

Ed & Al make sure that Hohenheim gets a headstone next to Trisha's

Ed becomes a stay-at-home dad because he doesn't know what job to take and he's seen everything he wants to see (at least most of it)

(also, he doesn't want to repeat his father's mistake by staying away)

when Winry's and his children are a bit older and things have settled he becomes a counselor to Roy and the parliament

(aka he gets paid to call Roy a bastard and have a good idea once in a while)

Winry has to force him to take that job because he's become annoying now that the children don't need to be looked after at all times

Ed secretly wishes that their children had Winry's blue eyes (and he'll tell everyone but her)

when they get married it was originally supposed to be a small celebration in Resembool

however Armstrong got wind of it and suddenly it turned into a public affair that ends up in the newspaper

even Ling shows up as official guest

Maybe I should just write a fanfic at this point lol

[chiimeramanticore]

you just sound like someone who's too ashamed to wholeheartedly admit they like beach bear. give in to the blonde boy

Huh who said that

[margowritesthings]

What’s Mine Is Mine

pairing: lh!Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 1159

warnings: possessive Arthur, spit kink, low honour Arthur, shameless filth, very suggestive, mentions of sex

moodboard

a/n: i simply Cannot Write Drabbles... thank you so much @elifsukirdaghehe for the spit kink request and anon for the low honour Arthur request! I hope this lives up to your expectations! This is very heavily inspired by this bc its one of the hottest things ive ever seen lol

also click the link at the end for a wonderful surprise and say thank you to @cowboydisaster

tagging: @cowboydisaster @cassidylynnj

“I do believe these belong to me…” Arthur quips, a cheeky grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he pulls the pile of chips towards him. A relatively old guy with a fantastically twisted handlebar moustache throws his cards down, cursing as he walks away from the table empty handed. A low chuckle reaches your ears when you squeeze Arthur’s shoulder, proudly standing behind him while his winning streak continues.

“Baby, we’re in the money!” He smugly exclaims, completely ignoring the grumbles of his fellow players. You roll your eyes playfully, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. The action gives your outlaw a pretty fantastic view of your chest, if only for a brief moment, but of course he catches it. The envious eyes of every other man at the table follow you back up to a standing position.

“I’m gonna grab a drink. You want a whiskey?”

“Thanks, darlin’.”

You catch the coin that is expertly flipped through the air, winking a silent thanks to Arthur and swaying your hips just a little more than usual when you strut to the bar. You know all eyes are on you, as does Arthur, and you know how crazy and possessive that drives him, usually culminating in mind-blowing sex that sends you dumb to everything but screaming his name. He loves knowing how much everyone wants you, knowing that he’s the only one who will ever have you. 

It’s only a few strides to the bar, the next hand in Arthur’s game already being dealt by the time you lean one hip against the wood. 

“What’s a pretty lady like you doin’ with a dog like that, huh?”

The unpleasant feeling settles in your stomach almost instantly as the worst kind of booze breath reaches your senses. Rolling your eyes, your gaze falls to the origin: a man, probably in his 30’s, with a clean shaven face and a suit that didn’t quite fit right. He isn’t completely unfortunate looking, you’d have to give him that, but the invisible layer of slime coating him from head to toe is enough to send women running for miles. That, you’re sure of.

Glancing back to the table, you see Arthur engrossed in the game. Maybe it’s the devil on your shoulder, or the promise of the kind of fucking that can only be fuelled by the fiercest jealousy, but you subconsciously decide what simply has to be done. The buzz of four drink and the electricity in the air only found in a packed saloon of an evening spurs you on, dragging your fluttering eyes back to the stranger and plastering a sickly sweet grin to your plump lips. 

“Why, you reckon you could show me a better time, cowboy?” Your drawl is sickening, but it does the job as a flash of false hope ignites the man’s features. 

You place your elbow on the cool bar, sliding down to place some of your weight on it. Naturally, your chest never rises and falls so dramatically with each seductive breath, but you can smell a free drink a mile away, and this one is much closer than that.

“Oh, don’t you know it, baby, I-I could show you the time of your life.” He’s nervous, clearly not used to making it this far without having a drink thrown over him.

What’s more, Arthur has noticed, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds with the most delicious frown on his face. You can practically hear the territorial growls being ripped from the depths of his throat, low and gravely and vibrating your very being.

The bartender finally arrives, glancing awkwardly between yourself and the other man, not knowing who was there first and who to serve. Luckily for him, and for your grand plan, your slimy admirer speaks up.

“I’ll have a beer. And whatever the lady likes.” He gestures to you, all bravado and ego as he places two coins onto the countertop. 

“Whiskey, please. Neat.”

The bartender nods and turns to get the drinks, leaving you alone to be gawked at.

“Oh, I love a woman who can handle her drink.”

“Really? Do you know something, mister, that is just fascinating.”

Every nerve ending in your body is set aflame as you feel a hand snake around your shoulder, resting just above the hem of your low collar. Arthur’s sarcastic drawl has dropped about three octaves. He’s mad. 

“And who might our new friend be, sweetheart?” His theatrics boom around the room, earning a few sideways glances from curious patrons, most certainly hoping for a bit of evening entertainment. One wrong word from your ‘friend’ might just make their dreams come true.

Standing beside Arthur, the once-hopeful devotee is realising just how large the outlaw is, how his strong arms fill out the sleeves of his duster coat and how one of those sleeves is hemmed with a bloodstain you just couldn’t seem to get out. 

You’re saved from having to introduce your pawn to your king when the bartender places two drinks between the three of you, one beer, one whiskey. 

“Aw, for us? Y’shouldn’t have.” The arm draped over your shoulder wraps tighter, twisting around so that Arthur’s thick fingers cup your jaw and squeeze your cheeks. You’re tucked so close into him that the movement forces your neck to crane up to look right at Arthur. You’re putty in his hands, his dominating stance moulding you to his whim. The action is enough to brand you as completely and utterly his, but it’s Arthur and that just isn’t enough.

He tips his own head back, throwing the whiskey into his mouth in one swift movement. A firmer squeeze on your jaw opens your mouth and you lock eyes with Arthur as the fiery liquid is spat from his mouth into yours. It burns your lips and warms your throat. You feel it all the way from your head to your toes, and you’re not talking about the drink. It takes you a second to catch your breath after you swallow, Arthur’s thumb wiping a little droplet of the spirit off your chin and popping it back into your mouth. You suckle on his thumb, just for a second, letting the rest of the busy saloon melt away. In that moment, it is just the two of you, your plan falling oh so cleverly into place. You’re gazing lovingly, seductively at each other, which Arthur only breaks to turn to the man kind enough to pay for the drink he’d just spat into you.

“Hey, cheers, pal. Real nice of ya’ to treat the lady.” He pats the man just a little too hard on the shoulder, sending him stumbling a few steps. You don’t notice, too entranced by your possessive cowboy to notice anything else. 

“Let’s get you home, missy. Seems I gotta teach you some manners about talkin’ to strangers, huh?”

God, yes.

[appleflavoredkitkats]

youve gotta let us know all your fave cfundy fics...the people need it...

hello anon . u have been bestowed a pin that says "best anon" for enabling me to talk about this fox a bunch more

1. banks of newfoundland by honeydowo

genuinely life-changing. writing style alone, i want to put it in my mouth.

but what makes the fic a genuine standout is that it's one of the first i've seen that encapsulates the concept of fundy as nationalism/l'manberg in a way that's super profound and super, super sad.

i love how fundy is portrayed in this. there's so much emotion in this fic, but it's explained in a very low and casual way that makes you feel more terrible for this guy. it's a cyclical showcase of fundy's tragedies, and how he can't even react to it in a visceral manner because it happens so frequently.

genuinely one of the most beautiful fundy fics out there. three years later and i still come back from this fic crying

2. be my home by neg_nancy

this one's a newer gem i found, one that portrays las nevadas as a "family" without making it fall into stereotypical family dynamics. i was simply put in awe by how well the author writes the connections and relationships the characters have with each other, imperfect and untrusting yet ultimately united for the same base causes

i specifically love the way they portray quackity. he's cunning and perceptive, knowing how to extract what he wants from his members without asking them directly. but what i absolutely love is how compassionate he is behind the sternness, and wow, i'm just absolutely floored by how he mobilizes fundy by the end

3. there is a quiet passing into silent, desolate pain (and no one is allowed to see) by readinglass

this one's depressing, but definitely unique. essentially, it's a fic about tommy witnessing fundy clean schlatt's grave. there's a ton of original, religious imagery in there, which i thinks taps into desperation in ways we don't often find with fundy

i love anything that looks into fundy and schlatt, and this not disappoint. it utilizes fundy's desperation and endless devotion to someone as a way to emphasize his ultimate loneliness. it is just so depressing, and the addition of tommy as both a character and a mirror to what we might be thinking is also so great

4. pandora's box by rabbitsintheclouds

saboo i miss u come back /j /lh

for real though, i know this is more of a c!dream fic more than anything, but the way fundy is used in the latter chapters is honestly so fascinating. the juxtaposition between fundy's optimistic, goofy, and unconditionally loving self and dream's charred-ness, memory loss, and pessimism makes for such a lively yet tense dynamic.

i promise you, this does not water down dream's abusive character to anything but that. but fundy reminds dream of what he's uncapable of being, which somewhat pacifies him a little. it hurts to see them relive dream after dream depicting end-world scenarios, especially considering how peppy and depressingly cheerful fundy is in these scenes

those about are my favorite fics but i suppose i can advertise my own as well. love of the fox is my ongoing one atm, a fix it of sorts that focuses on fundy and schlatt during las nevadas. i have 5 other fics, but i mostly stand by the fics "last resorts" and "one less sleepless night" the most. im too lazy to link those but just check em out on my ao3 :3