#anyways yeah. nest.

[shorlinesorrows]

here is ur daily reminder that Kevin Day leaving the cult that raised him was never selfish

thx send post x

[that-fish-who-writes]

hello.

.

.

.

*deep inhale*

KEEFITZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

...uhhhmm.

.

what's a keefitz...?

I don't think I've ever heard of such a thing :( sorrryyyy /j

anyways wanna see this cool drawing I made of a certain two characters? :3 !!

[quatregats]

Also, while I won't claim to be expert at this myself, I think a similar thing to the knightcore post happens with a lot of Age of Sail stuff, like people will be like "well I don't actually support the Navy" but then refuse to engage with the fact that this is an imperial war machine and their characters are deeply embedded within it, or if they do engage with it do so in a very cagey kind of way - but like I think that thinking through those implications and the fact that at some point these characters agreed to carry out that violence, and thinking about what that might do to a person, and also thinking about the fact that many of us are also deeply embedded within modern imperial war machines in some way or another is really interesting and important

[pharawee]

You must pretend to be me so he'll tell you more. You can do it, Non.

Ɐuq λonˌɼɼ qᴉƨcoʌԍʁ ϝμɑϝ λon ɼᴉĸԍ ᴉϝ ϝoo·

[pinayelf]

.

[monster-shoppe]

I had a dream where I had to complete challenges to progress in a survival game and in one of them part of the answer was to steal an egg from this goose. It didn’t like that.

It still made the goose hissing sounds when the hand opened. I’m gonna call him Gary.

[plasky]

I just had a really dumb character idea

So you know how there's like mimics n stuff to which they transform/mimic and object/thing/person

I then also thought of a cuckoo bird and how it inacts brood parasitism

What if let's say this was translated to a sort of mimic thing where the mimic leaves their child to some random family and the child shifts to look like they belonged to that family although still looking more off/off-putting

The mimic child then causes "accidents" to the rest of the children in the family leaving only them in the end to have all the food and everything they need for themself to live

[daisychainsandbowties]

thinking a normal amount about a treasure planet au. Beatrice on her solar kiteboard, doing the daredevil flip sequence framed against the setting sun and then getting hauled kicking and screaming back to her parents’ house in manacles with a defiant expression on her perpetually dirt-smudged face.

climbing out the window at the first opportunity to go down to the dockside inn, making nebulous plans to steal her kiteboard back but ending up down at the edge of the dock staring past her boots and into the mists. gripping tight to the wood beneath her as she looks up at the sky and dreams of anywhere but here, of stealing a skiff to get off this planet. a reluctant twinge at the thought of going alone.

Bea with all her star maps and her intricate knowledge of spaceships and their solar sails and how to navigate out there where the artigrav net is all that stands between you and floating through nothing, forever.

startling when she hears the familiar sound of someone booking it down the pier on wooden crutches. night has already started to speckle the sky above, and as she listens to the thunk of the crutches on the pier, Bea thinks of the complicated metallic lattice she has on her desk at home, partly disassembled because she’s still trying to work out parts of the engineering. Ava’s birthday is in a month.

she has to stay that long, and then she’ll leave. she will.

turning to watch as Ava races towards her with soup stains on her shirt and messy hair jammed flat beneath a ‘pirate’ hat she bought off of a traveling salesman last year. the tricorn wobbles precariously on her head as she moves. Beatrice just waits, a slight smile on her face.

there are bruises high on each of her arms, from the pincer-like grip of the police bots, manhandling her away from her kiteboard to snap manacles around each wrist.

she rubs at the skin there, but ignores the bruises.

when Ava arrives, a little out of breath, Beatrice holds up a hand so she can help herself down onto the pier. there’s no water beneath them, only a few hundred meters of empty air and curling mist.

Ava keeps one hand on Bea’s and the other on her shoulder, letting the crutches clatter down between them as she sits.

“Mom says you got arrested again,” Ava says cheerfully. “She says they’re threatening to send you to prison.”

Beatrice shrugs, “I wouldn’t mind it, so long as my parents did not visit.”

Ava’s fingers are covered in bright red band-aids, from chopping vegetables all day with her poor hand dexterity. Beatrice watches the colours blur as Ava punches her in the arm, right on the bruises. “Liar, I know you’d miss me.”

her arm throbs painfully, but Beatrice’s expression is carefully neutral as she responds. 

“I might.”

she stays with Ava that night, both of them reading her old book with its floating images of ships and canons and pirates leaping from vessel to vessel. Captain Flint, materialising out of empty space to steal away gems and gold, “the loot of a thousand worlds.” Ava traces the projected lines of the solar sails with her fingers as they flicker into being. 

Beatrice has repaired the book over and over, making the colours brighter and sharper. the tiny shapes of pirates all made up of light. Ava has the book open on Bea’s chest as she lies next to her, legs all entangled in the sheets they’ve kicked off because the night is so warm.

she seems oblivious to how Beatrice’s breath hitches at almost every touch.

they’re almost asleep when they hear the explosion, a ship crashing into the cliff-side, tumbling over and over before they hear the pop and hiss of heated metal. a bloom of smoke outside the window.

Beatrice gives Ava a piggyback ride down the stairs just before Ava’s ‘mom’, Suzanne, emerges with her pulse-rifle primed, hair loose around her shoulders.

they stumble into the yard and discover a pirate, a robot, still bleeding from a wound in his abdomen, crawling from the wreck of his ship. Beatrice heaves a shard of twisted metal away from him and finds the surface slippery with blood.

behind her, Ava sways a little, shivers in the cold air, but she’s still standing when Beatrice turns back to her.

the dying pirate tells them almost nothing useful. he’s half-mad, cluching at Beatrice’s shirt until the seams tear at the collar, then turning to Ava. he fetches out a lockbox from his ship, blood spilling onto the ground at the movement. unlocks it and takes odd sphere from inside.

it drops into Ava’s palm as he rasps, “Whatever you do, don’t let them find it.”

then he wheezes, shudders, stills.

they stare at him, Ava’s free hand finding Bea’s, holding tight.

“Is he… dead?” Ava’s voice in the silence and the dark.

“I think so.”

then, in a burst of light and sound, in a shockwave of displaced air, a ship plummets down out of the clouds, pulling up an instant from the ground.

this second ship looms down out of the sky, pirates dropping from it and suddenly Suzanne is screaming at them to “GET INSIDE” from an upstairs window as she takes potshots at the misshapen shapes swarming down lines of hempen rope.

the air lights up with orange and yellow as explosions ripple down towards the crashed ship, towards the inn. Bea flings one of Ava’s arms around her neck and sprints for the door, Ava holding the sphere (or map?) tightly against her chest.

she sets Ava down gently onto one of the bar stools, runs back to barricade the door. her face is flushed, streaked somehow with engine grease and robot blood, which is black and slightly acidic. 

they exchange a wide-eyed look, too much meaning in it to parse as explosions rock the floor. Ava has both hands clutched around the sphere. 

they both almost scream as Suzanne runs down the stairs in a blur of dressing gown and gun. she has Ava’s crutches in one hand and her rifle in the other. she kisses Ava quickly on the forehead, “Thank the tides you’re safe.” leaves her with the crutches and then goes to fetch an ancient-looking blaster pistol out from behind the bar, presses it into Beatrice’s hands. “You know how to use this?”

“No!”

“Aim it away from your own face.”

and then there are pirates all around the house, glass breaking and fire crackling. Beatrice takes up the rear, pistol pointed at the front door as it bulges under the pressure of pirates flinging their bulk into it again and again. 

they climb out of a window, Suzanne producing a kitchen knife and jamming it into the neck of a pirate loitering uncertainly outside the bolted shutters. there, covered by a tarp, is Suzanne’s old motorcycle with a sidecar attached. lantern-bugs scatter out from under it as Suzanne throws the old tarp away, gestures for Beatrice and Ava to climb in as she covers them with her rifle.

there’s a roar from somewhere in the dark and Suzanne fires a shot, hops onto the motorcycle and revs the engine. then they’re moving, pirates parting before them like the ocean neither of them have ever seen, the vast bodies of water that don’t even exist on this planet.

they seek refuge with Jillian, an archaeologist who frequents the old inn, claiming that she can’t make her coffee taste of anything but soap. she examines the orb, reluctantly passed into her hands by Ava, her and Bea wrapped in an old blanket, sitting by the fire in Jillian’s immense study.

Jillian fiddles with it for an age before sighing, looking almost angry with herself.

“I can’t… seem to make this work.”  

Ava holds out her hand, silent. “let me try,” and Beatrice makes a face at Jillian when she hesitates.

the pirate gave the sphere to Ava; it’s hers. 

it seems much larger in Ava’s small grip. she looks down at it for a while before her fingers start to move, slow but gathering momentum as she presses the little grooves and switches and indents on the sphere. 

until it lights up, showing a map of the known universe, and parts of it that are unknown.

“Is that-” Beatrice feels her words drop away, like the ground beneath the pier where she has passed so many hours sitting with Ava’s hand in hers.

Ava turns to Beatrice, eyes bright as a pair of stars, “It’s treasure planet.”

[angeart]

I'm not saying I'm easy to summon, I'm just saying I see a tease and I'm like hi yes tell me everything pls.

Was it a nice nest while they had it at least? Did they have it for a bit before it burned?

(also circus tease ooo)

-🎀

i do want you to be easy to summon. please be easy to summon <3

yes, it was the nicest nest! it was high up, surrounded by a meadow and a stream filtering into a lake, a forest stretching around it all, eventually merging into a jungle biome in a not too far distance. of course it was all still makeshift, but it was theirs.

they were there for a while, everything quiet and serene, lulling them into false sense of security. for a while, it genuinely seemed like it could all be over, like they could finally breathe. like they could really stay and settle and be okay. like it's alright to just be.

and maybe for the first time in a long while, they felt like they could stretch their wings.

maybe they ran around and giggled. maybe they made fires and cooked warm meals. maybe they toiled soil and planted seeds, readying for a future.

maybe they ventured into the nearby jungle, and found a birb friend, an incredible rarity and a proof of life, of something winged surviving and maybe even thriving here.

maybe one day, scar woke up to grian gliding freely through the sky, wings catching the marvellous glow of a sunrise.

maybe there was sheepish, much-needed preening, and cuddles, and kiss-pressed laughter. reasurrances and teases and everything else that goes along with it.

maybe scar stood at the edge of a little cliff, safe over water, spreading his tattered wings as grian stood by his side, eager to experiment, to see if he can still glide.

maybe they had some breakdowns and tears, inevitably curling against each other, breaths heaving and sobs hitching, but ultimately they were safe through all that hurt, tucked into each other's hold.

and maybe there was confusion and confessions (ahem mimic arc), and much needed late-night talks, and sun-naps, and little joys taken whenever they presented themselves.

maybe there were actually so many steps towards healing.

—and everything got taken away in an instant.

[thisismycorneroftheinternet]

Woe be upon you! See my cat!

[meadow-roses]

okay kinda random and not really based on the books at all but quick headcanon dump about Jupiter and Lady Glen

Imagine, the new king has recently ascended to the throne. There's a good deal of unrest going on due to the wars within and around the borders. Natalia has not become a fully unified nation yet, despite all the work Walter Good did during his reign. One of the independent warrens see this as their chance to take control. Under the pretense of submitting to the Natalian monarchy, they send an assassin playing the part of ambassador to infiltrate the court, set the stage for a coup, and do away with this upstart-king. The problem is, in order for her to pull this off, she has to become a trusted member of the young king's inner circle. Despite her rigorous childhood training (or maybe because of it) Glen is not immune to the power of friendship, and eventually finds herself in a difficult situation. She can't go back to her old life without completing the mission, and at this point she doesn't want to go back. She's made a place for herself here in the Natalian court, has actually become a member of the friend group, and has fallen in love with the king (however unfortunately irrational that is 😔) She doesn't want to continue living this double life, but if she told them the truth would they believe that she'd truly changed sides? Treason is... a very serious offence that Jupiter as king can't just ignore.

When the warren Glen is from realizes the single assassin is not being successful, the malcontents attempt a more direct attack, and Glen ends up revealing her cool skills to defend the king and prove her loyalty.

[oasisofgalaxies]

If you hate wasps and think they should all die please leave my blog . We love and appreciate wasps here

[prowl-autism-extraordinaire]

i really dislike how people view your behavior/feelings toward dogs as like. a litmus test of your inherent goodness or whatever. if you dont like dogs you’re Odd. if you dont try to pet random dogs thats Strange. if you dont try to rescue stray dogs thats Heartless. if you kill a dying dog instead of making it suffer thats Cruel. if you like dogs youre Correct. if you see a dog and want to pet it you are Normal. if you see a stray and try to take it to the vet or adopt it you are Kind. if you force an animal with shit quality of life to survive because your feelings are more important to you, you are Good.

and its fucking bullshit!

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

"you were born evil" but you still named her agatha.

thinking about that process, because it took 18 years right. you have a baby and you call her good and she turns out to be smarter than you, more powerful than you, and it scares you, you dont know how to handle that especially in a world that hates you and her already. the things about her that scare you, will scare the outside world who understands even less than you do ten times more. you dont know how to protect her so you try to control her which is like number one bad idea human response to things that scare us.

obviously this backfires and she gets even more furious in her quest for knowledge, every door you close she finds a window, every place you warn away from she gets into, talking to people she shouldnt be talking to, trying out magic she shouldnt be trying. every step she takes is one further out of your control, further out of anyone's control, every new thing she learns makes her dangerous, puts her in danger, puts your coven in danger, shes exposing all of you along with herself. shes in danger, shes a danger, shes a teenager and she knows more than you, of course shes not gonna listen to you anymore, about anything. of course shes not gonna hear a warning, and if she did she wouldnt take it, just to spite you.

what are you gonna do? youre not the only one whos scared. of her, for her. youve got an entire coven getting panicky about the way shes exposing all of you, the risks shes taking that she may or may not be able to fully understand (maybe shes never seen one of you burned before, maybe shes her own first). and if she were on her own that would be her decision to make, but you are still responsible for your coven and you are responsible for her, for her safety and for the threat she poses. so what do you do? do you even have a choice? or is this just where the mob turns. kick a scapegoat onto a pyre and hope fortune turns for the rest of us. if she cant stick to the rules in place for the safety of all, then shes a ticking timebomb. if it's not her at the stake, sooner or later it's all of you. so what can you do? what are you expected to do?

punish agatha.

[97tears]

yes… birds nest…. it’s peak..

[greenvillainredemption]

Some encanto fans really be like ‘how dare a primarily-female fandom crushing on a fictional man create a bunch of fictional women to ship with him??’ I’m aware a lot of us see him as gay but as a lesbian observer this doesn’t come off as owning the straights, it comes off as shaming women for indulging in self insertion. It’s just a new brand of cringe culture.