#but on the real tho can u just not???

[inkskinned]

probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.

we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."

at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.

the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.

the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.

what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.

here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

no more fan-ta-sizing about it! everything's already changed~

[watcher0033]

[strawglicks]

yay plushies :] + happy pride month!

bonus: rainbow capitalism HELP

[rainbowpufflez]

Giovanni homophobia arc™️

[luck-of-the-drawings]

OOH YEAH BABY ITS THE SURGERY EPISODE BABY!!! ME AND THE HOMIES NEED SOME NEW FACES FOR OUR NEW PLAN, AND WHO BETTER TO GET THE JOB DONE THAN THE TWO MOST EVIL PEOPLE WE'VE EVER HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF HAVING OUR LIVES VIOLATED BY? I MEAN IT WOULD BE FUNNY. IT WOULD BE FUNNY.

[kit-kat-jo]

i really need a cyn au badly guys. just imagine. uzi eats the solver, tessa’s body fades away but cyn is left behind. her core is intact and completley void of the solver, it’s in uzi now. her eyes are white because uzi sapped away the yellow in hers. cyn’s still small and her limbs are still janky, her movements shakey, even moreso without fleshy insides weighing her down. she doesn’t have a voice, or at least forgets how to talk for a while, because the solver has been talking through her for so long. she has a horrible, horrible time, dealing with hazy memories of things she wasn’t in control of, of horrible things the solver did through her, all the souls trapped within that died by her body’s hands. n and uzi agree to take her in, to help her through it. v adjusts as she learns that she’s somebody completely different, apart from the solver, someone she never truly knew. she becomes n’s little sister, but for real this time. she becomes all of theirs.

someone help make this au with me im so srs

[why-the-heck-not]

2nd batch of sourdough! Lots better than the first, actually got some crumb structure this time (bc the starter is finally ready for bread)

[ryllen]

Please don't crucified me if this headcanon is deemed unrealistic in real life. (´；ω；`) More notes / detailed notes:

stayed & travelled with the Figs for awhile -- after being found, before finally dropped of to an institution, as the Figs think their travelling life style is not really suitable to raise a child

quickly picked up civilization as he is an intelligent child (that's why he is a ravenclaw)

exchanged letters with the travelling Figs during his time at the institution / orphanage

was a really helpful child during his time at the institution / orphanage that he is close with the staff

he thinks of befriending people is a way of learning & by helping them he gets to experience a lot of different things

a mellow temperament child in general (just like how it is ingame)

likes exploring (bcs damn! we really going places in that game)

picked the silly 'Alex Xander' name himself, maybe he heard a mother called her child with that name once and he is obsessed with that name ever since.

he always writes Xander as his 'family name' to show that he is complete even without a family

actually a bit older than his classmates, as he went through extra few years to catch up to civilization as a feral child

blank template [x]

#anyhow i really love our barn owl; she's so beautiful but with a face like biscuit

[eff-plays]

I think Wyll is prettier than Astarion. There I said it. Astarion is more interesting certainly but mainly because Wyll is easier to look at. I just kick my legs and giggle whenever he's on screen. Mesmerized by him. Cannot tear my eyes away type shit.

[wayrad]

this post is a little more personal but i wanted to extend my thanks for 100 followers and all my mutuals :) i honestly can’t believe ive already met and talked to so many awesome, kind, and talented folks in this fandom since joining in august. i was initially quite nervous when posting all we got because i wasn’t sure id gotten gale and john yet, but all the positive feedback when i posted (and still continue to get today, bless you all) meant and means so so much to me. i went through so many full circle moments where my idols id always lurked around (atp they probably know who they are, rock on) engaging with my stuff and fb?? i almost lost it, sorta didn’t even know that was possible..? lol. but i really love being a part of this fandom space (as i usually either joined very late or smaller fandoms) and im having a blast!! ALSOO very big shout out to @skyphloxx for taking a shot in the dark and interacting with my post (all those years ago…) when i was first joining, and especially for betaing all we got!! could not have been finished without him im being so fr best beta/cheerleader/moot EVER <3 everyone’s made me feel so welcome and & i love reading what everyone has to say (everyone’s so gosh darn cool and interesting and god have i mentioned how much i love tumblr?) so just thank you 😭🩷 i really do like it around here.

[rewritingcanon]

stop making fics where scorpius and al have friends and are popular in school. they’re literally loser boyfriends bro their only friends be each other wdym they have other people they’re chatting to on a consistent basis??? the only other people they talk to thats not each other are the blood relatives and even that pushes it

[justaz]

once merlin puts arthur to rest, the world around him disappears and he’s in ealdor staring at his mother’s back. his sobs from the lake grow worse at the sight of his mother and he wails like he’s a child again, calling repeatedly for his ma. she spins around and finds him, without asking any questions she dashes forward and pulls him into a hug, holding his weight as he falls apart in her grasp, choking out nonsensical words and soaking her dress with tears, snot, and drool, his overwhelming grief causing him to ignore any sense of shame he might’ve felt at such a scene.

he doesn’t remember explaining anything to her, frankly he doesn’t remember much beyond the cries he pressed into her shoulder, but she says he’s been in ealdor for a week. she’s clearly worried and asks, no, begs him to eat or drink but he doesn’t feel the need or desire to, and even if he did, he simply doesn’t have the energy to bring the sustenance to his mouth. she cradles his head in her lap and runs her finger through his hair like she did when he had a nightmare when he was younger. it’s almost enough to make the entire thing seem like a horrible, horrible dream. but theres blood on his tunic where he held arthur’s body to his own so he knows it’s not true.

his mother doesn’t ask any questions, the look in her eyes telling him that she knows anyway. perhaps his nonsensical babble created a clear enough image for her to understand. maybe she just saw the broken look in his eyes and came to the conclusion on her own. she doesn’t mention him. merlin isn’t sure if he’s relieved about that or not. in the end, he brings it up, he asks how she was able to go on after balinor left. he asks how she was able to pick herself back up on her own two feet and carry on life as normal after receiving his letter informing her of his passing. she says sometimes she can’t, sometimes she lays in bed and listens to the birds sing and can’t help but hate them. she says she lives on for him anyway. she pushes herself up and makes food and works in the fields even when she hate the world around her.

merlin tries to relate, tries to understand, tries to imagine himself getting up every morning and living on in his name. he can’t. his parents loved each other, he knows that, but they were their own people and were able to stand the years apart. merlin…merlin is arthur’s, even in death. everything he is, everything he’s done, has been for arthur. he is half of merlin’s soul, the center of merlin’s world. how can anyone expect him to move on as if he’s capable of being alone? how can anyone expect him to function as if half of his soul, half of himself, isn’t dead in a lake? merlin can’t do it, he can’t imagine living a life without arthur. he barely got through the week and that’s only because he was passed out for a majority of it. how could he make it a year, much less another fifty?

he can’t. he can’t do it. he can’t breathe, he’s in agony, the world around him doesn’t exist anymore. not without arthur.

he’s back at the lake now, tears still streaming down his face despite the pounding headache from dehydration yet it doesn’t matter, not anymore. none of it does. he stumbles into the lake and sends his magic into the water to tug excalibur from the depths. he can feel freya pulling the sword back, but his magic overpowers hers easily and the sword springs from the lake, gleaming in the afternoon sun. freya’s face appears in the ripples of the water next to him, her expression pleading and sorrowful. merlin whispers an apology before turning back to the sword, staring at the sharp point of the blade. he brings it closer to hover just over his heart, the metal pressing against his skin but not enough to draw blood just yet.

peace washes over him. the sun warms his skin and the water cools him to keep it from being unbearable. the birds sing in the trees as the wind whistles through the leaves. merlin stares up at the brilliant blue sky and pure white clouds roll by, images of bunnies and birds and crowns and horses staring down at him. he wonders if avalon will be this peaceful, if he and arthur could lay out in a field for eternity, basking in the sun and laughing as they point out misshapen clouds that supposedly look like the other.

he plunges the sword into his chest, right through his heart, and falls back into the water. bubbles trail out of his mouth up towards the surface, blood spills from his wound and mixes with the water. he closes his eyes as he sinks further and further. he knows when he opens them, he’ll be with arthur once more. it’ll all be okay. he doesn’t feel his body hit the bottom before blackness fills his mind.

arthur awakens from his fitful slumber in a bed that is not his own. he squints at the room, or rather hut, around him and finds an old man hunched over a book in the corner. arthur tries to speak but all that comes out is a squeak of air, his throat too dry to speak. the man hears and whirls around to begin treating him once more, prattling on and on about how he found arthur in the woods outside his village donning shiny clothes which he discarded bc of the blood staining them yet he couldn’t find a wound. arthur’s hand reaches up to his side but there’s no stab wound there, not anymore, though he does sport the scar. he remembers how he got it, he remembers stumbling away from the battlefield, he remembers being found by merlin- merlin.

he asks the man about him but he seems confused and denies ever knowing someone by that name. arthur climbs out of the bed (the flash of golden eyes) and hastily pulls on his armor (“i’m a sorcerer. i have magic.”). he’s out the door before the old man can protest. he’s in a village he doesn’t recognize, they must not be anywhere near camelot (“i’m still the same person.”). he turns to the old man hobbling out of the hut and demands directs to camelot. the man stares at him oddly and scratches his ear before informing him that he’s never heard of a camelot before (“you’re my friend and i don’t want to lose you.”).

he instead asks for directions to the woods where he was found and sets off in that direction, the old man shuffling after him (“me, i was born to serve you, arthur.”). it doesn’t take long to reach where he was found. if the old man had carried him home it couldn’t’ve been much of a hike (“and i’m proud of that.”). he steps into a clearing where the man panted that he found him here (“and i wouldn’t change a thing.”). it’s no where near the lake where merlin held him as he took his last breath, it’s no where near camelot. the man didn’t even recognize the name of his kingdom (“it’s not why i do it.”).

arthur sits in the grass as he thinks on his next move and the man who watched over him sits next to him (“i’m not going to change now.”). he speaks lowly of a prophecy about a man from a time long forgotten sent on a journey, a quest, to retrieve what has been lost. he says how the prophecy led many to a sword lodged in stone (“i’m not going to lose you.”) but no one could pull it free. he points out arthur’s armor and calls it odd, he mentions camelot, a kingdom of which he’s never heard, and gestures around the clearing where he found the mystery man. he concludes that perhaps the prophecy spoke of him (“i can’t lose him.”).

arthur, with no other options, follows the man’s directions to a lake. not exactly lake avalon but close enough. theres a small island in the center that seems more like a hill. the sword, his sword, excalibur is buried in a stone covered in moss, misshaping it’s actual form. arthur wades across the water and climbs the hill. he wraps his hands around the hilt of excalibur and closes his eyes. he imagines merlin confident and reassuring expression as they and all his men stood in the woods around this damn sword in a different stone however long ago it was. he breathes in and out (“he’s my friend.”) and pulls.

excalibur comes free just as it did before. arthur watches the metal pull free and as it does, the moss on the stone falls away revealing its form. it looks like a collapsed figure, excalibur having been lodged in it’s chest, right where it’s heart would be. arthur squints at what looks like the head and feels a flash of familiarity. the stone slowly fades away from the hole where excalibur was all the way to the hill. as the stone fades, it leaves behind skin and clothes and hair and…merlin.

arthur drops excalibur and falls to his knees to hold up merlin’s limp form. he feels warm, as if he didn’t just spend however long with a sword in his chest as a stone. he’s not breathing. why isn’t he breathing? arthur grasps around, shifting his clothes out of the way to find the wound where excalibur had once been. the skin is stitching itself together with tiny golden threads. arthur looks back up at merlin’s lax face as the wound fully closes. he inhales sharply as his eyes fly open, glowing gold, and all around him it seemed the world finally inhaled after suffocating for millennia.

merlin exhales and golden sparks shoot from his lips to flurry around in the air. the grass under them grows longer and curls around both his and merlin’s body where they rest against the ground. the water around their island clears from the murky brown to a blindingly clear blue. the air is crisp and clean, the sun brighter and warmer, and one soul finally whole again.

[mythtiide]

its maid day so heres a little falkler! 🍨 + speedpaint !

[loki-ioki]

"Why do they think I'm you?"

[cerealmonster15]

right clicks boyfriend -> relationship -> discuss expanding the polycule

throws my shakey handed hurried doodle at you and runs back to the tasks i was supposed to be doing. even tho this is basically the same joke i drew of them a little while ago kind of teehee oopsie :3