#bury me with this on pls

[chvoswxtch]

YOU GUYS YOU GUYS YOU GUYS

ITS HERE ITS HERE ITS HERE

AHHHHHHHHH HAVE YOU EVER SEEN ANYTHING SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL IN YOUR LIFE???????

[awhoreintheory]

Circus Boy

Directly inspired by @erinwantstowrite 's art!!! post

Request from awesome amazing cool Anon

Over the years, circuses have lost their spark.

Dick would know— he’d literally grown up in one. Back then, the circus was a symphony of effort and artistry. Weeks, sometimes months, were spent perfecting routines. Performances were designed to dazzle, to inspire awe, no matter the country or culture of the audience. The comedy sketches weren’t just filler— they were genuinely funny, capable of drawing laughter even from the most reluctant parent dragged along by an excited child. Every act had a rhythm, a purpose, and above all, passion. The performers took pride in their craft, and the audience responded in kind, feeding off the energy, cheering and clapping until their hands were raw and their throats sore. 

Now? Now they were dull. Predictable routines recycled ad nauseam. Costumes that looked like they were bought in bulk from a clearance rack. Tents and stages slapped together with the barest effort to resemble grandeur. The magic, the joy—the soul of it all—had been replaced with a singular, glaring goal: profit. No one cared if the audience laughed, gasped, or even paid attention, so long as they paid their entrance fees.

But recently, whispers of something different had started making waves in Gotham: a circus gaining a reputation for being... well, different.

Dick’s curiosity was piqued. He hadn’t planned to go, at first. But the memories of his youth, of what the circus used to mean, stirred within him. Before he knew it, he’d wrangled (read: blackmailed) together as much of the family as he could to go see it. Which, wasn’t a whole lot considering quite a few were out of state currently, but it was enough to make him smile.

“Why must I come along? I do not see the point,” Damian groused, arms folded tightly across his chest as the group approached the circus grounds. Despite his protests, he made no move to make a stealthy exit.

“You’re coming because it’ll be good for you,” Dick said, ruffling Damian’s hair just to annoy him. Damian promptly swatted his hand away, glaring daggers at his adoptive brother.

“You don’t even know if it’ll be good,” Tim chimed in, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “What if this thing is as boring as all the other ones you’ve complained about?”

“Then we’ll all get funnel cake and call it a night,” Stephanie said brightly, making it clear where her true excitement lay. “I’m in it for the food, anyway.”

Dick pouted. “You didn’t have to say the quiet part out loud!” 

“Don’t underestimate funnel cake,” Duke added with a smirk. “It might be the only thing saving this trip if the show’s a flop.”

Dick rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t waver. “You’re all so cynical. Just... trust me, okay? I have a feeling about this one.”

Sure, a lot of the decorations seemed cheap thus far, but Dick can’t blame them. They’re clearly low budget, with only two shows a week, versus the seven to ten a week Dick was used to. The difference was the genuine passion and excitement in the eyes of the performers. And they were just doing pre-show stunts on the street to rouse excitement! 

Tim hummed thoughtfully. “This place has been gaining rapid popularity,” he said, the subtle edge in his tone making it clear he was already analyzing every detail. Dick saw his fingers twitch as if to take a picture. 

Dick glanced over at him but didn’t comment. He recognized that tone— Tim was in detective mode, quietly piecing together threads no one else could see yet. He did, however, take the opportunity at his siblings' distraction to subtly herd them in the direction of the tents, eager to get a good front-row seat. Damian noticed, but he didn’t do much more than roll his eyes.

Steph, however, rolled her eyes dramatically. At Tim, not Dick. “Can you just enjoy one thing without looking for a criminal conspiracy, Tim?”

Tim matched her with a roll of his own eyes, the two slipping into a bickering match that’d put an old married couple to shame if they weren’t so aggressively gay. Meanwhile, Dick let his attention wander to the stage, studying the equipment with the practiced eye of someone who’d lived this life.

Suspended high above was the trapeze rig, its bars wrapped in worn leather, the steel cables taut and secured to thick iron frames. The safety net below, while a little faded, looked sturdy enough to do its job. Not brand-new, but serviceable.

To one side, a highwire stretched across a dizzying height, its slim cable shimmering faintly under the tent lights. The rigging showed some signs of age— slightly dulled bolts and scuffed counterweights—but nothing that made Dick worry. It would hold, even if the daredevil walking it would need nerves of steel.

A teeterboard sat center stage on the ground, its spring mechanism ready to launch performers into flips and vaults. Nearby, a stack of brightly painted crates and barrels hinted at comedic skits. Clowns would probably tumble over them with exaggerated flair, while a sturdy seesaw-like prop suggested slapstick gags involving plenty of unintentional (and intentional) falls.

The whole setup had a charming scrappiness to it. The equipment could use a little TLC, sure, but Dick had no doubt it would hold up under pressure. He could tell the performers had put their trust in it, and that meant something.

For a moment, Dick felt a flicker of nostalgia. The way the crew moved, the crisp efficiency with which they handled the gear— it reminded him of home, of the way his parents had always treated the stage with reverence, as though it were sacred ground.

“Do you see how high that wire is?” Duke muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and apprehension as he followed Dick’s gaze.

“I see it,” Dick replied softly, his heart tightening. He couldn’t help but wonder who had the guts to walk that cable, let alone pull off any stunts on it. He’d definitely have to stick around and chat them up, maybe have a little friendly competition. 

“Awe, man,” Duke sighed, visibly disappointed. “Guess we weren’t excited enough.”

Turns out “early” wasn’t early enough because the seating area was packed. The whole first three rows were aggressively claimed, forcing the group to settle for seats in the middle of the fourth row.

Steph and Duke promptly excused themselves to grab popcorn—or, more accurately, for Steph to scout for funnel cake. Dick had to respect the consistency.

Damian glanced at Dick, then at Tim with a withering look. “Drake, cease your ramblings. They sour my mood.”

Tim blinked, clearly taken aback. “Wait, just me? Steph was talking way more!”

Steph, who had been halfway out of earshot, whirled around with mock offense. “Excuse me? I wasn’t the one turning this into an episode of ‘True Crime: Circus Edition.’” 

“Yeah, because you’re too busy planning how to steal funnel cake from children,” Tim shot back, crossing his arms. Damian’s eyebrow twitched. Dick wondered why peace was but a mere illusion. 

“Oh, please,” Steph quipped. “You’d be the kid I steal it from, Drake.”

Before Tim could come up with a retort, and Damian became a convicted felon, the lights dimmed, cutting their bickering short. A hush fell over the crowd as the familiar low hum of a drumroll began to build.

The ringmaster strode into the center of the stage, clad in a dazzling coat of crimson and gold that shimmered under the spotlight. If you looked any closer than that, you’d see how tacky and cheap it was. His booming voice carried effortlessly across the tent.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Welcome to a night of wonder, daring, and delight!” the ringmaster announced, his voice ringing through the tent as the steady drumroll built the tension. “Prepare yourselves for the extraordinary, the astonishing, the absolutely unbelievable! The show begins... now!”

The drumroll reached its peak, and with a dramatic flourish, the spotlight swept upward to reveal the first performer perched high above the stage. A man in a sparkling gold costume waved grandly to the crowd before swinging onto the trapeze. The audience clapped politely as he performed a few rudimentary tricks— basic flips and graceful swings that showcased control but lacked flair.

Two more performers joined him, each clad in similar glittering costumes. They moved with confidence, transitioning through formations and passing between trapezes, but the moves were predictable and lacked the edge Dick was hoping to see. Certainly, nothing that would make this rinky-dink circus as popular as it got so quickly. 

Tim leaned toward Dick, his tone flat. “You dragged us here for this?”

“Underwhelming,” Damian muttered, his expression neutral but his tone sharp.

Dick didn’t respond immediately, though he couldn’t disagree. The tricks were technically fine— safe, practiced, polished— but there was no spark, no passion. No magic. He resigned to going home disappointed and also to the inevitable flaming via siblings. 

But then, just as one of the performers finished an awkward landing on the platform, the ringmaster’s voice boomed again.

“And now, prepare yourselves for the prodigy of the skies, the one and only Amazing Arach-Kid!”

The spotlight shifted upward again, revealing a much smaller figure poised on a separate platform, high above the others. It was a boy— young and wiry, dressed in sleek crimson and black, his face obscured by a half-mask (not dissimilar to their domino masks, actually) that glimmered faintly in the light. For a moment, the crowd was silent, uncertain what to expect.

Without warning, the boy leaped.

The gasp from the audience was audible as the kid— Arach-Kid?— launched himself into a dramatic triple flip, his body twisting gracefully through the air before he caught the trapeze with flawless precision. The crowd erupted into applause, the energy in the tent shifting instantly.

He didn’t stop there. Swinging with a force that sent his trapeze soaring higher than any of the others had dared, he released at the peak of his arc and spun into a double somersault. Instead of catching the next trapeze, he landed neatly in the arms of one of the adult performers, who looked genuinely startled by the boy’s precision. He grinned, waving excitedly at the audience as they roared with applause. 

From there, the routine transformed. Arach-Kid became the centerpiece of the act, seamlessly incorporating daring flips, twists, and transitions between trapezes. He was passed between the adults with perfect timing, their previous mediocrity eclipsed by his sheer skill and energy.

“Whoa,” Duke murmured, leaning forward in his seat. “He’s... good.”

“Who is that kid?” Tim asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Better than the rest of them combined,” Damian said bluntly, though his tone carried the faintest hint of approval.

The boy ended his routine with a jaw-dropping quadruple somersault, catching the final trapeze one-handed and hanging upside down with effortless control. Gasps and cheers erupted from the audience, their applause thunderous as he let himself swing for a moment, letting the crowd bask in his daring. Then, with a fluid motion, he swung back, releasing the trapeze bar for one final flourish.

Dick leaned forward, his breath catching as the kid’s body twisted into the unmistakable maneuver— the signature move of the Flying Graysons.

The crowd roared as he executed the technique perfectly, his form flawless, his timing impeccable. He landed with a clean dismount, arms raised triumphantly, and offered the crowd a playful bow before darting off to the wings. Even with the stage empty, shouts and applause echoed for a long time after the boy left. 

For a moment, Dick couldn’t move. His stomach churned as memories of his parents on that same trapeze flooded his mind. No one else knew that move. No one could. His parents had created it, and Dick had learned it from them. It was their legacy— his legacy.

So how, in the name of all that made sense, did this random kid just pull it off perfectly?

The lights shifted again, smoothly transitioning to the next act: a somewhat clumsy but undeniably entertaining tightrope routine. One performer started with a wobbling walk, arms flailing for comedic effect. Another joined, balancing precariously with a broomstick for support. The final performer added a unicycle to the mix, pedaling shakily across the thin wire as the audience laughed and clapped in delight.

It was… objectively funny.

But Dick barely noticed. His good mood had evaporated, replaced by a heavy knot of unease in his chest. At this point, they must have a hive mind with how they immediately filed out of the tent without a single word exchanged. 

“That was—” Tim started, breaking the tense silence.

“Dick,” Steph interrupted, her voice low, “did he just—?”

“That was your move,” Tim finished firmly, his eyes locked on Dick’s.

“It’s not possible,” Duke added, glancing at the now-empty trapeze rig. “Right? It’s your family’s thing. There’s no way some random kid from Gotham knows it.”

“I am more concerned with how he knows it,” Damian said, his voice cutting. His eyes darted to Dick. “This is your domain, Richard. You must have answers.”

Dick didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his breathing shallow. In disbelief, he muttered, “I don’t.”

Steph frowned. “Okay, well... what do we do? Do we just ignore the fact that some kid pulled off your impossible secret family move?”

“No,” Dick said sharply, his voice colder than any of them expected. “We don’t ignore it. We find out who he is, how he learned it, and what the hell is going on.”

Tim’s brow furrowed. “Do you think someone’s trying to get your attention? Like, deliberately?”

Dick shook his head, though his face betrayed his uncertainty. “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, it’s... it’s possible, but...” He exhaled through his nose, frustrated. “I need answers. This isn’t something you just pick up on YouTube.”

The group left the small but packed circus, their earlier excitement replaced by a shared tension. The cool night air did little to clear their heads as they walked in a tight huddle, glancing over their shoulders as if the boy would materialize out of the crowd.

“Something’s not right,” Tim said, breaking the silence.

“Obviously,” Damian muttered.

“I mean it,” Tim snapped. “Moves like that— you don’t just do them. It takes years to learn without a teacher.” He glanced at Dick. “You’re sure no one outside your family knew it? Like, absolutely sure?”

“Positive,” Dick said firmly. “The only people who knew it are gone. Except me.” His voice dropped as he added, “Or at least, they’re supposed to be.”

The group exchanged uneasy looks, about both the situation and Dick’s reaction to it. It takes quite a bit to rattle him, so to see him, well, rattled was weird. Beyond weird. It was downright wrong. 

“Either way,” Duke said cautiously, “we’re going to figure this out. Right?”

“Oh, we will,” Dick said, his voice grim. “We don’t leave things like this unanswered.”

As they disappeared into the Gotham night, paranoia settled over them like a second skin. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to stay a mystery for long. 

[armandposting]

I can't think about armand's age/gender dysphoria without wanting to scream for a thousand years. how he's constantly seen as a young boy because he was turned at 17 but by that point even before he's lived a minute as a vampire he already hasn't felt like a boy for years. and all the men who see him this way want to use him like a man without treating him as one. he's constantly saying to their faces that he is a man with wants and desires and feelings and they're like hmm that's nice. not to me though. but not in a way that protects any of the child in him. they're not like, you're a boy and that means you should be kept safe. they're like, you're a boy and that means whatever I do to you is not real. because you're not real and now you're so frozen that no matter what you do you never will be. literally no wonder he has every problem.

[thedistortionshallways]

Something something hilarious joke I only halfway wrote at 2am in my notes app about burying your gays something something Jon and daisy in the buried

[vaguely-concerned]

if everything with varric weren't enough to make rye go the level of ape shit at solas that he does (and goodness don't get me wrong it was more than enough!), forcing him to sit alone with himself in the fade and wonder if he really just saw lucanis die right in front of him with no way to know for sure added kill bill sirens in his head so loud the voice of the Maker Himself could not be heard over them if He personally peeped through the blanket of the dark to cry 'hold, hold'

(That no compunctious visitings of nature shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between the effect and it. indeed. maybe you should have thought a bit harder before making me quite so much in your own image. bitch)

[p4nishers]

with eddie confirming he only married shannon bc of chris and his disastrous relationship with ana i think it's pretty safe to say that he's gay. he is SO gay and i was right.

[appropriatelystupid]

my little baby, off to destroy people

[cann1bal-kitt3n-x]

need some movies to watch that really get under your skin, that make you feel invaded by a terrifying evil force, that make you question your own humanity

[bug-ina-rug]

I'm writing a TMA essay

so I'm writing an essay that i hope to turn into a video essay about the TMA fears. The title i have for it right now is "How to figure out which TMA fear you belong to: a step by step guide" and I need to take a damn break 'cause I've been doing this for the past like hour or two instead of working on my homework so I am requesting ideas! Here is how it is being structured(is subject to change but i think it'll stay at least roughly similar):

Part 1: What are the Fears? [and what does it mean to be “marked”]

Part 2: Comparing the fears to real-life/other fictional identification tactics

(Pokemon, zodiac signs, gender/sexual identities, D&D “races”, Hogwarts house, etc.)

Part 3: Putting all the pieces together

So if anything in this post strikes an idea of some sort in your head please do share! I will absolutely credit anybody for any ideas I include if/when I post this (whatever form it ends up being lolol)

[officialtayley]

please stop sending me asks about tayley breaking up. they haven't broke up. they are fine. it's getting really annoying to keep having this conversation at the same time every year, and then throughout the year too.

[vv-ispy]

Im 👀 at your Mondstadt having an underground area and I just want to bring up this idea in a fanfic I read (Windwheel Aster: Adored by the wind) where Mondstadt has secret underground passageway between them and Liyue for emergency use. Now im combining those ideas in my head of underground passageways beneath Old Mondstadt. Like some sort of dark souls crypt for those who perished (since its Really Hard to do a burial in the snow). You know how the wind brings Mondstadter's souldls home? Yeah what if thats not just a Venti thing but also existed during the time of Decarabian. (I can tie this into Istaroth but thats a whole nother paragraph)

DON't MIND ME HAVING SpeNT most of hte day reading that fic ahem

Crypts under Mondstadt...oh I love that idea it fits in mood-wise with the Actual Dead Guy under the statue, giving Mondstadt and ameno all the more ties to death and souls and imprisonment + yeah how do you deal with bodies when the ground is frozen hard and the city is micromanaged by the god. Why, if the bodies are getting in the way, why not remove them, help the souls pass on, and place the bodies neat and orderly filed away. Away from the people so they can focus on life instead of death, but each passed person can still be easily found in case they're needed. Besides, crypts are often under a church and Mondstadt is the nation most known for having a church....maybe not under Mondstadt's currentday church, but the people did use to 'bow' around the tall tower which houses a god....

But also........those Istaroth ties? 👀👀👀

[9kylian]

[blushedfemmes]

@ the straight mean girl anon are we the same person 😭😭😭 My first crush was literally my kindergarten bully and it took my mean blonde college situationship to realize that I might just be into mean girls. Which could mean nothing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway I still daydream about pinning her to the wall and edging her till she’s crying and can’t speak, let’s see who’s the mean bitch now 😇

rip i’m so sorry 💕 but that last line ..…. i can be a mean girl btw

[wundrousarts]

Hi folks! It seems like people are discovering that there are people online who write some WEIRD! 👎 stuff for Nevermoor. Some tips and tricks for dealing with that:

Don't engage. Don't read the fics. Don't even comment to say how much you hate it.

Don't spread it around. It's gross as hell, I know! But being like "ew, guys, I found this gross fic" just means you're causing more people to seek out said gross fic, and that's just not great. If you don't want to see it, no one else wants to either.

If you can: block, mute, or filter. I don't really use any fanfic sites to know if these functionalities exist, but I'm sure people online have found ways. Edit: here's a way to do it on Ao3.

TL;DR: Ignore, Ignore, Ignore. 👍

(PS: Same thing goes for when people send weird inappropriate anon messages. Just delete them from your inbox and don't subject others to them.)

This is unfortunately something that's been present for years in the fandom, on both Ao3 and Wattpad. This is also why I essentially don't read Nevermoor fics unless they're for Mogtober, and even then I'm cautious. I have seen some weird stuff written about my favorite characters that I wish I could pluck from my brain and set on fire, or worse! But when I stumble across that stuff, I just quickly close the tab and pivot to something else to get my mind off of it.

We should not entertain these types of people in a fandom full of minors about a middle grade series, so: just don't engage with them, ignore them, filter them out, and maybe even drown them out with some fics of your own.

[aheavenscorner]

My submission for day 4 of the @zelinkcommunity Zelink Week 2023: Hand in Hand

Find the fic excerpt below!

——————

Link slipped a finger beneath one of her gloves. His eyes did not leave hers for a moment.

"May I?"

Zelda was hesitant. For a long time, she had hidden her deepest secrets behind those gloves. All the blood she carried in her hands, the marks of her failure written across her skin, she'd buried it all between layers upon layers of cotton, silk and linen. But not anymore. Link had laid himself bare before her, heart and body; he wished to hide nothing from her, and... maybe it was time for her to do the same. Perhaps, with his unending devotion, he could finally clean her hands of all the guilt they'd been holding on to.

Her nod was shaky.

Without missing a beat, he kissed her fingers, the back of her hands, everywhere his lips could find. He ran his calloused fingers up her wrists until his palms met hers; one at a time, he entangled his fingers with her own, wasting no time to leave on them yet another kiss.

"My queen", he whispered, glowing redder when she used her free hand to pull him closer. "This is— the ring— it was always for you. Only for you." He lowered his head. "I did not know if I could, or if I can—"

Zelda cradled his face and, with a laugh, pressed her lips against his. He had kissed her senseless countless times, and still, she had never seen him so red before.

"Yes, Link, you may have my hand in marriage. However... I would like to hear you ask properly."

He smiled against her the largest grin he could muster. If his queen had asked, he shall abide. From the couch she lay on, he went down to the floor and kneeled.

"My queen, my Goddess... Zelda." He caressed her ungloved hand, running his thumb across the Triforce engraved on it. How soft and beautiful her hands were, just like all of her; perhaps, one day, he would cherish them enough that she would not feel the need to conceal them so often. "Will you marry me?"

She leaned forward on the couch until her lips hovered right above his. They curled into a smile, one she could not hold back. She had been waiting for this — no, hoping for this — for so long. So long.

"Yes, Link", she breathed against his lips, and she felt his grin grow. His hand wrapped on the back of her neck, deepening the kiss, and from them on, neither of them had the need to speak anymore.

[alien-ally]

made daisy apl to go with daisy aroace! aaa battery bracelet set is complete. also completed my aro/ace/aroace dainty trinity. plus some other fun combos cause i couldn't stop. ANDD, I FINALLY HAVE ARO AND ACE RINGS TO PUT ON MY MIDDLE FINGER!#$%#&@! will keep up with this lil series: part 1