#at least make it interesting

[silviartemis]

Love how Tumblr knows I'm Italian so in my recommended posts, after a good scroll of things that make sense for me, they throw in two or tre completely random posts in Italian about idk interior design or the umbrian countryside just to be like hey don't forget your own language also here's the same post about lipsticks or whatever we've shown you for the past month, it's from a blog you don't follow but it's in Italian so surely you must want to.

[alistiion]

Hate and love that the bots on Tumblr do nothing but passive aggressively follow me. Like thank you for not sending me some weird shit but also fuck you for disappointing me when I go to check out who just followed me.

[scottsflow]

Tessa *stares at the camera like she’s in The Office*

[overwhelmedbyfeels]

If this horse stuff isn’t giving something like this

...what’s even the point?

[terrie01]

So after his injury, Cisco went to hide out at his parents’ house while he was “dead.” My theory is that they freaked at the thought of outliving another son. So Cisco’s desire to stop being Vibe is about Dante, not some future family.

[simplyaiden-blog]

I really hate when the writers of show want to pretend the main character is in a love triangle and “conflicted” and yet it is obvious who the writers’ favorite is

[valtsv]

i've discovered in the past few months that i actually really enjoy socializing and listening to people, and that people like what i have to say and how i say it and my sense of humor (when i'm comfortable and familiar enough with them to be able to be able to be quick witted in conversations). however i'm unfortunately also extremely unsocialized due to a childhood spent alone almost 24/7 and often emotionally abused and neglected, so whenever i stumble (which i frequently do like a baby deer on ice) i default to word vomit, stock photo formulaic responses i've clearly rehearsed before, and that awful kind of defensive, insincere irony that makes it obvious i struggle to trust people and don't feel comfortable in my own skin. and i'm slowly improving and getting better at recognizing it and practicing so i can be more relaxed and self-assured and charismatic, not because i'm trying to be but because i'm genuinely confident and content with being myself, but it's fucking mortifying having to learn and catch up with like 20 years of experience that a lot of the people i talk to had when they were young enough for people to dismiss it as just the process of growing up and being allowed to be immature and make mistakes because you're literally a child (thank fuck for fellow neurodivergent people or i'd feel incredibly lonely despite my newfound joy in human interaction).

[mrv3000]

What I would be looking for in a new RTD Doctor Who series:

1) Plots that further the characters and not the other way around.

2) More scenes like:

[nerdetiquette]

Idk if this is a hot take or anything but I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that Jon didn’t have any friends (besides Martin) basically the entire series.

Sasha was nice enough but she was strictly professional. Tim was reasonable in the beginning and I like to believe they were friends but honestly he’s pretty wary of Jon s1. Melanie hated Jon the whole way through. Georgie was there for a bit before things got too messy, but the way she treats him s5 is like a time bomb. Basira treated Jon like a stove with a broken gas release, and Daisy, my god Daisy. I could go on and on about their relationship but it was really clear after the trauma she inflicted on Jon he could never truly trust her.

They all feed into the theme of Jon’s inhumanity, but I remember listening and being confused because I always saw ppl treating this like a found family when they never were.

[doctormage]

I’m v interested in which character origins romance which love interests in dao and dai. like how many f!lavellans have romanced Josephine compared to m! and nb!lavellans, and how many lavellans of any gender have romanced her compared to any other inquisitor?? I want a pie chart. is this data out there somewhere

[luffyrose]

Not gonna tag anyone yet, but if you saw my "Constantine adopts Danny but won't admit it even though he's doing backflips trying to keep the League from summoning him" post, then I've got some good news!

It's probably as good as it's getting(the one-shot, possibly two-shot if people like the part I have actually written). It's like 300 words away from 7k, probably makes no sense, and I'm not beta reading.

I'll post it tomorrow if I remember/have the motivation to deal with Ao3 tags-

EITHER WAY! Thought I'd give you a quick little update, be excited.

[nesurii]

ellie, asia & adela.

some new sims in an attempt to get back into the game :p

[aturnoftheearth]

destiel // funeral - amber run // watch on youtube

[whining-ylthin]

Iskander Khayon, as written by Aaron Dembski-Bowden: "my oversized form clearly crosses the threshold of the so-called uncanny valley, it is physically fit yet utterly sexless, a slab of meat encased in ceramite that raises dread rather than awe in mere mortals"

Ahzek Ahriman, as written by Graham McNeill: "oh, Lemuel, I can see you're staring quite... longingly at my Astartes chest, my big beefy baps, my muscle-bound manly mammaries, MY TREMENDOUSLY TURBULENT TRANSHUMAN TURBO-TATAS, are you as impressed by my ♂️ peak ♂️ masculine ♂️ physique ♂️ as I am every time I look into the mirror?"

[northern-passage]

i’ve written a little hunter/lea pov swap, taking place a few years after their assignment together, sometime before keld, in a weird place between jealousy and resentment.

content warnings for: heavy alcohol use, sexual content, emetophobia, (mild) body horror

—

The job went well.

You probably shouldn’t feel quite so surprised - or relieved - at your success, but when you heard the word vampire you were bracing for the worst of it. But… it went well. And now you’re celebrating, the locals paying for your food and drinks, and covering the price of your rooms for the night.

You stare down at your drink, slowly rotating the glass in your hands. You’re pretty sore, though overall your injuries are relatively minor - you got a few nasty scratches on your side, but nothing you can’t handle.

You and Lea have just finished a rather large meal, a comfortable silence falling between the two of you, Lea leaned back in the booth across from you and people watching as the townsfolk celebrate raucously in the parlor. It’s been a while since you’ve had a good, hearty meal like that, and you feel quite content, even despite the occasional drunk coming over and bumping into your table, needling you for details and trying to look into your hood.

It’s tolerable. You’d prefer this over being stoned and chased out of town - with small towns like this, it’s always one extreme or the other. You’ll take the annoying drunks over the stones any day.

Lea clears their throat then, and you raise an eyebrow at them expectantly as they lean forward and press their elbows to the table.

“You alright if I head up?” they ask, glancing sideways as they do.

You raise your eyebrow even higher.

“Yeah. ‘S fine,” you say slowly, crossing your arms over your chest. You’re surprised it took them this long to ask.

They give you a tight smile, resting their palms on the table.

“You going to stay down here?”

You nod.

“You’ll be alright by yourself?” they press.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, your voice harder this time.

They purse their lips, before nodding.

“Good work, today,” Lea starts, and you roll your eyes, earning yourself an indignant scoff from them. “I mean it.” They pat their hand against the table a few times, glancing sideways again.

“Just go, Lea,” you say with a sigh.

“Yeah. Don’t stay up too late,” they say, and now you scoff at them, but they dart out of the booth before you can make a smart retort.

You watch them cut across the parlor, heading for the bar, straight to the woman they’ve been making eyes at all night.

You watch them for a few moments as they exchange some words, narrowing your eyes from inside your hood. You reach for your glass and take a long drink.

The woman had been clinging to Lea earlier in the evening, but was at least courteous enough to let you alone while you ate. You had spoken with her when you first arrived in town - she seems to have been the one delegated by the town to be your point of contact, and she set you up at the inn here and helped you gather information at the start of the job.

Her and Lea had hit it off rather handsomely. Much to your annoyance.

You sink down into the booth, your face twitching at the thought. You can’t help but steal another glance over at them, just as Lea starts to lead her up the stairs. You glare at them from inside your hood - until Lea glances back down, your eyes meeting for a brief moment before you quickly look away.

You hastily take another drink, finishing off your glass and setting it down on the table harder than necessary.

You knew when you got two separate rooms here that it was going to end this way. It’s a luxury you can rarely afford, and Lea takes advantage of it when they can. You don’t blame Lea - they have their needs. You have yours. For you, it’s something you can only relieve back at the stronghold. No one here would touch you.

You glance back up the stairs again, but Lea and the woman are gone.

You stay in the booth for a while longer, nursing a few more glasses, but eventually the stares get to be a bit too much. Without Lea here, no one seems to have the nerve to approach you - so instead they just stare. You know these people are harmless - Lea would never have left you alone if otherwise - but that doesn’t lessen your irritation. Your high spirits from earlier have all but evaporated, leaving you with a sour taste in your mouth, and you push yourself out of the booth, swaying a bit on your feet as you shove your way towards the stairs.

You grasp at the banister and drag yourself up, blinking as you lean against the railing. How many drinks did you have…

You grunt as you reach the top of the stairs, stumbling across the terrace and down the dark hall towards your room. You fumble with your keys, taking a few sloppy attempts before you manage to unlock the door and stagger inside. You slam the door closed behind you, before throwing yourself down onto the bed. You stay unmoving like that, burying your face in the pillows until the room stops spinning so much.

Eventually you roll onto your back, slowly forcing yourself to sit up. You pull off your boots, kicking them across the room as you tug off your cloak and throw it to the floor. You run your hands over your face, rubbing at your eyes and taking a deep breath.

You pull at your shirt then, tentatively pressing a hand to the bandages wrapped around your torso. Lea had patched you up themself - no healers in this town, and you’ll always trust Lea over any random surgeon. You had both been in a bit of a panic when you got back earlier, unsure of the extent of your injuries, though you had insisted you were fine. Understandably, Lea didn’t believe you. You got bit in the arm, too, but you managed to get the creature off of you before it could really latch on. It was a younger vampire, and it was alone - thank the gods - and while you had a rough start, the two of you took care of it rather efficiently.

You pull up your shirt again, wincing as you touch the dark stains seeping through the white bandages, tracing the outline of each jagged claw mark with your finger.

You glance over at the bloody rags on the corner table, at Lea’s little medical bag still open and scattered all over the place. You imagine Lea there again, cursing at you as they scrambled to stitch you up, both of you breathless and jumpy from adrenaline. You close your eyes, pressing your hand to your side, feeling the wet heat from beneath the bandages, and you imagine Lea’s hands on you, the bite of the needle as they started the sutures. Their hand grabbing at your hip, holding you steady, the way they had crouched on the floor beside you, on their knees and blinking up at you when it was all done, your blood on their hands.

You imagine Lea in their room with that woman.

You inhale sharply, opening your eyes and scowling down at your hand, gripping your side, fresh blood bright red as it pools under the bandages. Your jaw clenches, and you shake your head, but you can’t get the image out of your mind - on the floor, on their knees in front of you - in front of someone else. The image blurs.

The room is spinning again, but you ignore that, your hand going back to your side, your eyes fluttering closed again. It’s not your hand - it’s Lea’s hand, warm and bloody and steady as they hold you open, their fingers curling at the edge, their dark eyes flashing as they press into you, hot pain crawling along the sutures and radiating up your arm, forcing you to slump back onto the bed. Their hands digging into you as the needle pierces your skin, pulling the pieces back together around their fingers, stitching carefully around their touch, their hands tightening inside you as they lean forward to kiss your stomach.

You blink up at the ceiling, swallowing hard, shame and embarrassment making you hesitate before you slide your hand from the bloody bandages and reach lower. You’re breathing hard, from the pain or from the imagined Lea between your legs, you can’t be sure. Probably both.

You fumble to undo your belt, slipping your hand beneath your waistband, and the room is spinning faster, your other hand grabbing at a fistful of blankets and sheets. You see them looking up at you, and you imagine them with their hair down, imagine the feeling of it brushing against your stomach, your thighs, their hands on your hips.

Your hand quickens, your hips bucking without Lea’s hands actually there to hold you in place, your body trembling under their imagined touch. You bite your lip, muffling your pathetic sounds, but it’s not enough to stop their name from escaping you, a breathless whisper - and you have to stop, pulling your hand back, a sudden revulsion overwhelming you, their name ringing in your ears, a guilty confession in the empty room.

You sit up quickly, too quickly, grimacing at the pain in your side, and your vision swims - you’re barely able to make it to the washbasin across the room in time before you vomit. You lean over the porcelain, your legs shaking, and you lay your arms around the edge of the basin, pressing your face into your elbow, your breath harsh against the bile burning in your throat.

“Fuck,” is all you can say.

After a few moments you lift your head to glare at yourself in the mirror, your lip curling in disgust.

You can blame it on the alcohol. You drank too much, that’s all. That’s all. Maybe you’ll even get lucky, and the alcohol won’t let you remember this in the morning.

—

The job went well.

Lea is pleased - and relieved. It was a bit touch and go at the start, but the vampire didn’t stand a chance; it was young and inexperienced, and it was out here all alone. Vampires don’t survive on their own.

Lea shifts in their seat, leaning back and peering around the parlor. It’s loud in here, and full of people eating and dancing and celebrating - small towns like this always like to celebrate. Give them any reason and they’ll drink and eat until morning. Lea is grateful for it, mainly because the celebratory mood leads to generosity - the townsfolk offered to pay for their drinks, and their meal, and their rooms, at least for tonight. Can’t say no to that.

Lea reaches for their drink, finishing the glass before eyeing their partner across the booth. Empty plates and a few other empty glasses are piled up in the center of the table between them, and Lea watches them as they stare down into their own drink, slowly turning it in their hands. They seem content, at least.

They’re always hard to read, with that fucking hood on.

Their injuries don’t seem to be bothering them, anyways. It was all Lea could do, without a healer in this town. It’s not the first time they’ve had to stitch them up. It won’t be the last. Lea flexes their hands under the table, fidgeting with their ring.

They turn away then, before they get caught staring.

Lea glances over the parlor again, amused by a few nearby drunks - before catching the eye of the woman from earlier. Her name is Sabe - Lea knows this, though they pretended not to, for some reason. Pretended to forget, in front of the hunter. That woman. She’s been the point of contact here, setting them up at the inn when they first arrived, as well as answering a lot of Lea’s questions and helping them gather information from the other townsfolk at the start of the job.

She seems rather keen on Lea.

Sabe smiles, leaning against the bar, tilting her head, long dark hair falling around her shoulders as she laughs at something Lea can’t hear.

Lea considers her for a moment, before smiling back.

They sit up a bit in the booth then, before stealing another look across the table again.

Lea is certain the hunter already suspects - nevermind their brusque attitude towards the woman, the two have done this song and dance many times before. But it’s never easier. Never less embarrassing. In fact, it gets harder every time. Lea hesitates more and more. But... It’s different for the hunter - at the stronghold, there’s always someone passing through they can slip away with, and there’s no one there to ask questions or judge them for it. Lea can’t do that. Or maybe they just won’t.

At least this way, the hunter is the only one passing judgment. Lea already knows what they think of them.

And yet… And yet.

Lea glances across the room at Sabe again, still at the bar, still waiting expectantly. Lea knows they’ll regret not going over there, as pathetic as it sounds. They glance back over at the hunter. Lea knows they’ll regret going over there, too - as pathetic as it sounds.

Lea clears their throat then, pressing their elbows to the table, leaning towards their partner.

They look up from their glass and just raise an eyebrow at them.

“You alright if I head up?” Lea says carefully. A question. Or is it an offer? Lea’s not sure, either - they always ask, in some roundabout way. As if the hunter would ever tell them no. Sometimes Lea wishes they would. They have to look away for a moment, glancing sideways, resisting the urge to fidget with their ring. When they don’t respond right away, Lea forces themself to look back.

Their eyebrow rises even higher, and Lea can see their mouth twitch - a smirk, or a scowl, Lea can’t tell.

“Yeah. ‘S fine,” they say slowly, crossing their arms and ducking into their hood.

Lea glances sideways again, a shameful heat creeping over them.

“You going to stay down here?”

The hunter just nods.

“You’ll be alright by yourself?” Lea can’t help but ask. But that’s not really what they’re asking, not in their roundabout way.

“I’ll be fine,” the hunter snaps, giving Lea their answer.

They purse their lips, twisting their ring around their thumb, before nodding. It’s not the answer they wanted.

“Good work, today,” Lea starts then, because they have to say something else. They have to. Any excuse to stay at the table with them a little while longer. To give the hunter another chance to give them the right answer.

But the hunter just rolls their eyes at them.

Lea scoffs, tapping restlessly against the table, glancing across the room. Sabe is still waiting. Would the hunter wait for them, too?

“I mean it,” Lea presses. Desperate.

“Just go, Lea,” the hunter sighs then, and Lea relents.

“Yeah. Don’t stay up too late,” Lea stupidly blurts, before bolting out of the booth, unable to stand it for another second longer.

Lea lets out a string of swears as they make their way across the parlor - what the fuck was that?

“Gods damn you,” they curse, resisting the urge to look back at the table. “You idiot. Gods damn you.”

They shake their head and collect themself for a moment, running a hand over their hair and taking a deep breath as they step up to the bar.

“Lea!” Sabe slides up next to them, smiling warmly, thankfully oblivious to any of their irritation.

“Hey, Sabe,” Lea says, leaning towards her to be heard over the din of the bar. Sabe is quite delighted by the closeness, reaching out to put a hand on Lea’s arm, blinking up at them expectantly. The touch soothes some of Lea’s nerves, brings them back into the room. Distracts them, from the golden eyes burning at their back.

“Sabe…” Lea trails off a moment, their jaw clenching despite themself. They lean even closer, pressing their lips to her ear.

“Sabe, let’s go upstairs,” they say, and it gets the reaction they hoped for - her hand tightening around their arm, her face flushing pink as she turns her head, licking her lips as she leans into them.

“You’re not even going to ask me to dance, Handler Chen?” she says then, mock indignation wavering as she fails to suppress her little nervous smile. Cute.

“Is that what you want?” Lea says, tilting their head at her, returning her smile with their own. Lea’s not exactly in a dancing mood - and there’s no point in acting like this is anything more than what it is.

“No…” she says softly, glancing sideways, blushing even deeper now, her hand still on Lea’s arm.

“Will they…” she starts suddenly, and it’s like a slap to the face, Lea going rigid against the bar as Sabe stares past them, across the parlor. “Will they be alright, all alone?”

“They’ll be fine,” Lea says brusquely. Sabe does notice that. Lea clears their throat, shaking their head. “They’re alright. They rather like all the attention,” Lea adds dryly.

That gets a laugh out of Sabe, and Lea laughs a little too, glancing down at their hands.

“Okay,” Sabe says after a few moments. “I want to go upstairs.”

She reaches for their hand then, and Lea lets her take it, lets her lead them a few steps from the bar before they lead her to the stairs.

Her hand is warm and soft and clammy, her steps quiet behind them as they ascend the stairs, single file, reaching the terrace and Lea hesitates, even as Sabe walks by, a gentle pull on their arm as she says their name. Lea glances down into the parlor, finding those familiar golden eyes watching them. They look away just as quick, hiding in that godsdamn fucking hood.

Lea turns away, catching up with Sabe, and they’ve hardly passed into the dim tavern corridor before they take her face in their hands and kiss her, pressing her against the door as she slips her hands beneath their shirt. The taste, the touch - it’s enough to forget the familiar golden eyes. For a little while.

[groundbreakingdot872]

Arthurs’ a big history nerd and you can’t convince me otherwise ‼️

Why?? did he know so much about Carleon’s attack and retreat in ‘Castle of Fyrien’

And then he proceeded to happily geek out about it for Gwen 💀 (kinda adorable ngl)

Also he’s just generally very well-versed in Camelot history, ex: the deleted scene in s4ep1 where he just goes off! about the citadel of Daobeth with only minor prompting from Merlin

Exposition King 😌✨

And how does he seem be the kingdom-wide #1 expert on Wilddeoren? Hmm??

I rest my case