#because come on

[thinking-emoji]

I just remembered the Fandometrics Year in Review is coming out next week. Does anyone wanna place their bets

[deepspaceboytoy]

Ultimately I think Harris will win but it’s gonna be close and it’s fucking embarrassing how hard it is for the Dems to run a competent campaign against what should be a slam dunk opponent

[mochiajclayne]

So I asked my friend (who haven't seen a single episode of One Piece but had to sit down and read my infodump about the animanga) if they'd trust Trafalgar Law as their surgeon and the entire conversation tragically reminded me of Marineford Buggy and Luffy if he was conscious enough to respond. 😭

[smiles2m]

Hungry

Like, all the time.

[my-insanity-is-an-artform]

It had been a week since The Lamb had been summoned to The Gateway in the aftermath of Shamura’s death.

A week since The One Wh-… since Narinder had ordered them to kneel.

A week since they refused.

A week since they won.

A week since…

Since they had returned to the cult, bloody and victorious over their former patron, only to find him at the centre of a concerned crowd by the Indoctrination Circle.

Comatose.

The Lamb methodically tucked the blanket securely around Narinder’s still form. The only sign of life being the rise and fall of his thin chest. Whether the thinness was a sign of his former role as Death or due to his long imprisonment, the Lamb wasn’t sure but it was something of concern.

As was the gaunt look to his wrist, scarred and furless, with long oozing sores up his forearms.

“Oh, what am I going to do with you?” The Lamb murmured softly as they smoothed out the blanket.

While not entirely sure why Narinder had fallen into a coma, the Lamb suspected it might have been related to the shock of becoming mortal.

The wounds that were so easily shrugged off as a god were fatal to any mortal.

“I don’t know why I spared you. You demanded so much of me and took everything else. Maybe it was pity. Maybe I am just a coward like you said. Or perhaps I’m just tired of all the bloodshed. So many of us have died, mortal and divine and for what?” They soothed another fake wrinkle in the blanket.

They did not regret killing the Bishops. How could they when the four had stolen their entire people from them? The Genocide had started before they had been born and thus any chance of them knowing what it was like to be a Lamb, to know their culture, their heritage, was destroyed before it began. The fanaticism had extended to any who would show a lamb any form of mercy or those who tried to preserve anything of lamb culture.

The zealotry had even begun to affect other species as the number of lambs dwindled. Goats, antelopes, deer, bison, cattle, even llamas, all became rarer towards the end.

Cats, black ones especially, were also affected, being considered an ill omen and too many cats considered themselves allies of lambs to allow such brutality.

And for what?

The prophesised inevitable had finally come to pass. Five became Four became Three became Two became One became…

Nothing.

The Lamb began to gather the old, ichor-stained bandages they had replaced and threw them into a bowl. Cloths they had used to wipe Narinder down followed. The old bedding was thrown by the door, ready to be washed. They refused to allow anyone else care for him with only the healers being allowed to watch over him while they performed their duties away from his bedside.

An act of devotion, penitence and safeguard all rolled into one.

“It’s funny. I thought we’d do all sorts of things once you were free. I wanted to stay by your side. I wanted to show you my favourite fishing spot by the docks and show you where I picked all those camellias in the Darkwood. I wanted to make you my favourite meal.” They were quiet for a moment. “I wanted to know if I meant as much to you as you did to me. Even if I didn’t, I hoped you let me stay. I would’ve given anything, you know, but after everything I’d done for you, after all I had given, you just had to ask for the one thing I couldn’t do.”

The Lamb sat on the floor by the bed and rested their head on the cover, watching his face for even the smallest of reactions.

“If you hadn’t demanded that... If you had found another way… Would you have let me stay?”

Nothing.

Just the rise and fall of the thin chest.

Just as it had been for a week.

Just as it would be for a long time yet.

____________________________

Everyone: Narinder is pissed and tries to assassinate the Lamb when he's indoctrinated.

Me: What if he's comatose tho?

AU where the shock of becoming mortal after being imprisoned for so long causes Narinder's body to be so overwhelmed that he falls into a coma immediately upon arrival to the cult.

The Lamb, while feeling betrayed yet still devoted, decides to personally care for Narinder while he's comatose.

Rumours spread about the mysterious comatose new recruit and how the Lamb spends every moment they aren't caring for the Cult with him.

Some think something happened their leader blames themself for.

Others think it's out of duty and safeguarding since he's technically not been indoctrinated yet.

One very persistent rumour insists that the mystery person is actually the Lamb's lover who was hurt and now they cannot bear to part from his side.

Even when the Mystic Seller commands them to free the Bishops, the Lamb is slow to do so until it offers to help Narinder heal.

With every freed bishop, the stronger Narinder becomes.

Aym and Baal are resurrected and are the only ones allowed to help with Narinder while the Lamb frees the bishops. The only ones they can trust with Narinder.

The Lamb continues to talk to Narinder throughout everything about everything. All of their hopes and fears and plans are laid bare to him. Their feelings too.

(Maybe the bishops also talk to him. Quietly and on the rare moments that the Lamb isn't hovering by his side. Their own form of confessional.)

However, no one has any idea that Narinder can hear every word.

And then he wakes up.

[thebabygronckle]

the straw hats find out about sanji's childhood early bc chopper does a check up on him and, after asking how long sanji has been smoking, notices he has absolutely NO lung damage

[shawnaise]

t4t shawngus where they take time between cases to give eachother their tshots because god knows they’re both too scared to do it on their own

[littlealexhorne]

i'm convinced they let bob mortimer write whatever stories he wants and then just flips the coin on whether he's supposed to say it's true or not

[that1notetaker]

Next on: more high school experiences involving Social Cues and What They Definitely Are Not x2

Ah, yes. My highschool beginnings. You may already tell how the rest played out.

[petit-naldo]

Oh nooo OSCAHH, you didn't

[tiredofsatansbullshit]

[mischieviem]

Wip (Don't reblog)

I'm once again reaching tentatively into the dsaf fandom for the sake of my girlfriend

[highqueenofprydain]

He broke the seal at their lips to speak raggedly against her mouth. “This is why.”

She had forgotten the question, and mumbled in confusion.

“Why I keep my distance.” Words broke hot against her cheek, her jawline, under her ear; down the curve of her neck. “Because when I am close to you, I cannot think of anything else.”

“And what is so wrong with that?” It was a gasping demand, too urgent to acknowledge the satisfaction of such a confession.

“Eilonwy,” he groaned softly, into the hollow of her throat. “I have a responsibility to my men. It isn’t fair to them.”

“Fair?” She pushed him away a little to glare him in the face. “It wasn’t fair that I was sent away for years and had to fight to come back to you. It wasn’t fair that the moment I got back, the world came all undone. It isn’t fair that I can’t stay with you on what could be our last night alive.” 

Her hands fisted into his cloak, as though she could twist the sense out of him by force. “And you worry so much about being fair to a lot of farmers and crofters, you’ll barely be seen in my company. Shall I always come second to your sense of duty?”

“I...” He looked upset and bewildered, as though somehow it had never occurred to him that she would want anything else. “I didn’t...”

“Next time you decide to be so bloody self-denying,” she plowed on ruthlessly, “you might stop and consider how it’s affecting others. And by others,” she added, “I mean me. Because you’re quite good at thinking of everyone else.”

She sensed him tighten all over, stoked by an invisible spark, like the crackling jolt that sometimes jumped between metal and wool. He took her by the shoulders almost roughly, steered her backwards until she was pinned against her own bed, leaning against its high support, melting into the space between it and his body. “I never stop thinking of you,” he said hoarsely. “Never. It is all I can do, when you are in my sight, to concentrate on the tasks set before me. You cannot know what it is, to be so...”

“Oh, yes, I can,” she interrupted, and pulled him to her mouth again to prove it.

[hinderr]

i thought the code was impersonating as her but holy shit what if that's actually juanaflippa. what if she pieced herself back together, clawed her way out of digital death, stitched herself together, shell piece by staticing shell piece. what if it really is her?

[girlinthetardis04]