#also as always no need to mirror

[tartppola]

very specific au thought, silver if he was the shield instead ( read the tags to see explanations )

[hemerasiae]

"dai! hush, now, you," josephine shoos her defeatist perspective away as one would flies to supper. "we have discussed this at length, leliana. pragmatism need not make a companion of cynicism." though she chides, it is with the utmost love and care.

she indulges, then, in a lavish sip of her wine. the moment it hits her tongue, she is home. josephine closes, exhaling tension from her body. it tastes of early evening sunlight filtered through vineyards and the trembling crescendo of a summer affaire de cœur - warm, romantic, bittersweet.

the scent, however, is uniquely reminiscent of family dinners from her youth: how her mother fussed with yvette draped across her lap; how laurien courted mischief with their brothers, drawing josephine's ire; and how her father laughed boldly and petted her hair, his lips finding her temple, 'mia cara giuseppina… ti preoccupi troppo!'

someone in their family must, she tuts inwardly, fondness lighting a lantern in her chest with glass tempered by the ever-enduring high tide of homesickness. her eyes reopen. the chill of skyhold extinguishes the lantern.

"as you know, comtesse lutetia was received as an honored guest of the inquisition today," josephine begins to explain, abandoning all pretenses of grace and good posture to tuck her legs beneath her. "there were instructions, leliana! meticulously garnered and written. her ladyship is an avowed enthusiast of butterflies. i must then invite you to imagine my indescribable horror when i receive urgent word of a mishap in the comtesse's quarters," she pauses to collect herself, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand.

"scores of beetles—beetles, leliana!—unleashed in her chambers. beetles on the floor, beetles on the antique settee, beetles ascending the gold-threaded damask curtains! it is only by the grace of andraste that her ladyship maintains certain proclivities for the ... quaint and the unusual." josephine is grateful for this but, arguably, more so that she did not have to bear witness to the horrifying ordeal that is a room full of living beetles.

"they are... most unsettling, the beetles; some of them make these sounds," she shudders before whispering, "che creatore mi aiuti e dammi forza," beneath her breath as she briefly palms at her forehead.

"there is more," she waves her hand in front of her face dismissively. "but, please, tell me of your day so that i may rid myself of thoughts of beetles traipsing the halls." that, and she must nurse her wine.

without really trying, leliana hears her coming a mile away : the telltale clack of her heels across the floor ( at an efficient but not hurried pace ), the quiet hum of polite conversation slowly growing louder, the gentlest clink ! of glasses tapping together despite very best efforts. another few seconds would pass, and then surely ...

a knowing smile spreads across her lips as the door handle jiggles, and the ambassador finally makes her way into the room. right on cue.

leliana continues to fiddle idly with a few trinkets as she listens to josie's pleasant chatter, enjoying the little flicker of warmth and affection deep in her chest in silence. little bit by little bit, it helps the day's mask slip away — less of a spymaster and more of an old friend.

and, no, she certainly doesn't want to know how long leliana's been here.

" le beau temps ? not in my rookery, i fear. but one can dream. " she jokes, making her way over and plucking a glass from the table, as instructed. after a quick tap against josephine's glass, she carefully takes her perch on the arm of the couch.

" go on then — who were the STARS of todays comedy of errors ? i could certainly use a laugh or two. "

[soratsuart]

I find it incredibly funny seeing some fans complain that the movie wasn't "lore accurate" as if FNAF has ever been consistent with its lore, like

Wow, the movie changes a lot of stuff and is not accurate to what we thought we knew? *looks at The Silver Eyes trilogy* I can't believe that, how horrible *looks at The Silver Eyes trilogy* Who would've thought they'd change stuff that makes us doubt what we know about the series *looks at the fourth fucking closet*

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Vine_Boom.mp3

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[luck-of-the-drawings]

smth smth about 'the thing that the character did that you thought was rly rly funny in the moment is actually linked to a terrible trauma that lies within said character.' or wahtever.

[corvidus-fr]

long time no art! here's a bust of one of my favourite dragons, Captain Bluebelly of the pirate ship Tidefang

[lichilly]

“I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you.

Take me back to the night we met.”

— The Night We Met by Lord Huron

cw implied death, angst, OWWW OWWWIE OWWW

The day starts as usual.

The sun rises, birds chirping as you push open the balcony door to let the morning air in. Joseph steps out, a cigarette already between his fingers. You join him, two mugs of coffee in your hands. He takes one from you with a grateful smile, you both settle into the routine.

The day is beautiful. The suns warm embrace on your skin makes you want to linger there forever, soaking in her rays.

“What d’ya want for breakfast?” he asks, smoke curling lazily from his lips.

You ponder for a moment, imagining the taste of different dishes. “How about…pancakes?” you suggest, feeling your mouth water at the thought.

Joseph chuckles, stubbing out his cigarette and taking a final gulp of his coffee. “Pancakes it is then.”

You eat breakfast together at the table. Joseph flips through his script between bites, humming under his breath and glancing at the clock occasionally. A quiet sigh escapes him as he polishes off his plate.

He rises, placing his dirtied plate on the sink, setting his empty mug on top. He walks over to you, gently pushing your hair back and kissing your forehead.

“I gotta go. I’ll see you later, okay?”

You hum, cheeks warming from the kiss. “I’ll pick up stuff to make your favorite for dinner tonight. I know we haven’t had it in a while.”

His eyes light up, “Sounds like a plan.”

He heads towards the entryway, grabbing his jacket. He looks back at you, a smile still lingering on his lips.

“Don’t worry, filming shouldn’t take long today. I’ll be home before you know it.”

The butterflies in your stomach flutter with his words.

“Okay, I’ll see you later,” you reply, eyes droopy with morning grogginess and love.

The door clicks shut behind him, you watch a moment longer. Your eyes trace over the knob, down the mysterious crack in the wood, and watch his shadowy steps fade away. A sudden uneasiness creeps in, filling your gut with a syrupy ache. The butterflies no longer flutter, their wings cut, leaving you with a heavy feeling in their place.

You try to shake it off, but the feeling lingers, the knot in your stomach tightening with each tick of the clock. Hour after hour, minute after minute, you try to distract yourself with meaningless chores. You go grab things for dinner, the hustle and bustle of the store creating a dull hum over the pit in your stomach. A weak balm that doesn’t last the second you step through the apartment door again.

Night falls, groceries left forgotten on the counter. Seconds tick by painfully slow, each one a reminder of his absence. You can’t shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong.

Joseph doesn’t return that night, or any night after that.

[lesbworth]

selected moments (mostly gay or countess almaviva or both) from barrie kosky's 2023 production of le nozze di figaro at the wiener staatsoper

[ardentpoop]

:)

[wulfhalls]

licherally the very next scene

[dazais-guardian-angel]

kinda wild to me that one of the most compelling aspects of both Chuuya and Kunikida's characters to me, that I never really see talked about, is how they're heavily set on a doomed crash course towards complete and utter destruction, and how I am so, so worried for them both.....

[4aceclover]

I CAN'T WAIT ANY LONGER

Yes major spoiler warnings

The most recent chapter of shadows has came out as if the previous one wasn't making the timeline and story of this awesome manga confusing enough then we get this information drop and I have no words just read this

Apparently the one who started all of this nonsense to begin with with the fairies and them attacking the mirror house family which includes Kate's mom by the way was all caused by this guy named Joseph (I'm mostly focusing on Kate right now I don't even want to begin to talk about my feelings towards the twist about Anthony)

Now doesn't that name sound familiar

It would explain a lot to be honest but man the story just loves stacking more and more on Kate shoulders as if dealing with the adults and Anthony wasn't bad enough now we got this nonsense give me a break

And here I thought this manga was going to follow the simple anime structure: 5 protagonists with five antagonists, each corresponding to one of the protagonists we see, and they're going to have to battle each other. Heck the Manga and anime even hinted at this, but nope let's just keep on making things harder for poor Kate! As if things weren't already bad enough.

(The poor girl doesn't even know what she is and now we're just giving her more problems to worry about, give me a damn break)

And while my theory about Anthony / Christopher being siblings with Rum / Shirley was confirmed non Cannon (thank God) that doesn't mean the choice of making him siblings with somebody else wasn't off the table

This story has gone from very clever to making me very angry but for very personal reasons it's still clever just in a way that's going to make us all get whiplash

[maironsbigboobs]

re: elf servants

I think generally there are servants in royal/noble households simply for practical reasons and they generally fall into 2 categories: specialised servants (think, stewards and messengers and scribes, masters of horses or kennels, that kind of thing) and servants who help with the upkeep of the household (cleaning, repairs, cooking and also the apprentices and assistants of specialised servants)

specialised servants are probably quite prestigious roles and fields of industry in their own right, and they are considered full members of a household, and probably are closely linked to the person they serve - it's as much a political and social statement to be Finwe's chief scribe as it is an economic one

but the second category are more associated with the house than the family living in it - for example, Finwe's palace in Tirion would function both as a home and a diplomatic and administrative centre, it would be impossible for him to rule and keep up with chores himself. But Fingolfin's personal home would probably not have any full-time servants - when there more people than usual to feed or house then professionals might be hired, but for the most part I imagine the day to day is done by the family (made possible by the fact elves sleep and eat less than humans)

IRL domestic service (at least in the 18th century) often functioned as a kind of prep stage for adult life (for women in particular, but gender is probably not as big a factor for elves) and I could definitely see this in Valinor - domestic servants being 80% elves between 50-100 who haven't chosen an apprenticeship or similar in another field who are earning extra money to set up their own households, getting experience outside of the family, meeting others in their own ae cohort, learning independence etc. It's a job that comes with the offer of room and board + the wages a king/prince/lord can provide. Not glamorous, but not terrible.

The other 20% is made up of professional servants - experienced elves who are genuinely like the work and are contracted workers as much as a builder or gardener might be. Some of them might be independent and others part of businesses set up by other elves who are really into cooking/cleaning etc.

In Beleriand the situation (for the exiles at least) is probably very different, though I think there would be attempts to adapt the system - but there aren't as many households that need servants and there aren't as many young elves.

[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.

[bklily]

It's so weird that my head is constantly fighting between itself. It's always "I like this thing regardless of what people say about it since it makes me happy" x "I feel bad about liking this thing because so many people don't like it I end up sad"

Likely something I need to work on tbh. I don't mind people having criticisms or even disliking characters/shows I like I just gotta learn to let myself enjoy it in my own terms

[cookinguptales]

I am not for a minute the kind of person who believes that bio parents are always more important than adoptive parents, but I will say there is something so... wistful to the dynamic playing out in s3 of OMITB with Loretta and Dickie.

I grew up in a religious area with a strong emphasis on having and raising children, so... honestly, I've seen it happen before IRL. Couples who thought they couldn't have bio children so they adopt a child, only to then have a "real" child who they end up doting on far more. It's a cruel thing to do to a child, and it would be an even more awful dynamic if your brother was rich and famous and the whole world loved him. Especially if you know that it was your ideas that made him famous, but he was just so charismatic that he got the love and fame and accolades anyway.

I can only imagine how much Dickie longed for a family that prioritized him. That put his needs first. I can only imagine how much he wanted just one person to look at both him and his fancy, famous, selfish brother and choose him. I can't help but think that he wondered about his bio parents and why they, too, didn't want him.

And then for him to find this woman who's treated him more like a son than his own parents ever did, who is finally prioritizing his needs, who finally cares about his mental health, who is finally seeing his talent, and... he doesn't even know it, that she's his bio mother. That she always missed him, but assumed he was living a better life without her. That she always watched him from afar and loved him.

It's almost like something out of a neglected child's fantasies, isn't it? That he has a real parent somewhere who loves him desperately. That he really is special and precious and worthy of love; he just had to find the right person to give it to him.

But at the same time... how much will it hurt when he realizes who Loretta really is? When he realizes how much time they've lost? When he realizes how long she's stayed away? When he realizes that she's lied to him as long as she's known him?

Loretta has spent her whole life sacrificing her own happiness for his, staying away because she believed he was happier with his adoptive family, and then as soon as she meets him IRL... she does it again! She sacrifices for him in a way that ends up leaving him all alone again. It's both kind and terribly cruel, isn't it?

It seems like love and stability are two things that he's craved all his life, and they're two things that have largely been denied to him. His brother loved him, but he treated Dickie like dirt. (But still a possession to be hoarded.) His parents presumably love him to some degree, but they made it very clear to him that he was always the backup plan, never the talented, perfect bio child they actually wanted. Even Loretta, with her flighty, dreamlike Broadway lifestyle, could never have given him the stability he needed, even if she did love him.

idk, Dickie's a really fascinating character to me. He really, really creeps up on you, doesn't he? But I feel like I'm so invested in his happiness now. I really want him to finally get the life he's always wanted, even if it had to be born of a tragedy that he never asked for.