#eatyourgrapes

[iamthewanderingbard]

@eatyourgrapes

most tired-looking dude ever

[cutestknife]

Commission for @eatyourgrapes ! Thank you so much, i really had good time, to drawing them! :3

[guru--guru]

Seeing your tags on that Skyward Sword post was 🙏🏽😩 SS defense squad at the ready

it’s a GOOD GAME and the story is TOPS. THAT’S THE ORIGIN. HELLO?? LORE??? NINTENDO FED US.

[flargablargaart]

@eatyourgrapes

Yes :3c?

[butts-art]

@eatyourgrapes

everyone's got that one buddy who's an imp who torments them with demonic energy

[saltwife]

Legit dude you’re Lotor in my mind bc the icon I’ve got like 4 braincells I’m sorry sjdndnd

Man I wish!

[impfiltration-archive]

a birthday edition doodle for the sweet grape bean that is @eatyourgrapes

[flargablarga]

(for the art thing) Honestly??? What sticks out to me the most is the way you render faces, like the nose/lips and how you render clothes! Your art always makes me happy to see tbh and I feel like i need to be more vocal about that tbh

What’s my art trademark?

*throws confetti everywhere*

I’m so glad to hear that!

[butts-art]

@eatyourgrapes

Which is sexier, a werewolf or a vampire?

Depends if you find it sexier to submit to the will of charismatic evil or to be overwhelmed by animalistic power. And that's not a decision I can make for you.

[lonkeronaama-blog]

YOU’RE ALIVE!!! Ever since you vanished last year I’ve been in a state of distress lol

I AM!! Sorry about vanishing just like that, but I needed to be away from the non Galra side of the fandom and focus on my graduation and new working place. I watched s7 yesterday and then I saw Zarkon again and it was downhill from there. 

[captainkaltar]

Faced with a resurgence of old memories, Haggar reexamines her relationship with her emperor.

A little fic I wrote as part of the 2018 Galrentines Exchange, a gift for @eatyourgrapes. Because the galaxy needs more soft, affectionate Zargar!! 

[butts-art]

@eatyourgrapes

pictured: nerd to nerd friendship

[revasnaslan]

The show you reblogged a clip from is called “Nailed it!” And it’s on Netflix I believe

oh thank you!!

[noxperditus]

Pucker up, turtlecat :3

Send “Can I kiss you?” to see how my muse responds.

To Tali;

“You can kneel and swear fealty to me. Do not touch.”

To Alfor;

To any who knew him, it was no surprise that Alfor was chosen by the Red Lion. Alfor was driven by instinct - be that instinct wise or not - and leapt into everything head first. He was a good leader to his people, and certainly capable of thinking things through when need be. 

His greatest strength and weakness was his honesty - he could be trusted to speak his mind and speak the truth, as he often simply said the first things that sprung to his mind...

This, apparently, was one of those times.

Zarkon froze, dumbfounded and slack-jawed, the dalterian noodles he had been snacking on sliding out of his mouth and back into his bowl with a wet plop. He stared at Alfor with wide astonished eyes - they had been sitting in silence, just enjoying each others company while the other Paladins slept. And then Alfor asked...??

Well. There was only one response he could give. A very intelligent, very articulate-

“Bwuh??”

[teslatricity]

Cartwheel Zaggar/Zanerva?, G Modern AU, but Zarkon is still a giant turtle man because anytime i tried to conjure a mental image of him as a human I literally drew a blank. The Target thing... I have no explanation or excuse, and no regrets.

For @eatyourgrapes who’s been feeling down lately, which is unacceptable. Hope you feel better soon, dear. <3

Honerva didn’t believe in fate.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t believe in things she didn’t see; she believed in subatomic particles, in string theory and the multiverse, things she could examine with the scientific method or mathematics. She had never visited the stars she’d studied, but that didn’t make them less real, or make the content of her dissertation less valid. Astrophysics implied that one had faith in things one could not see or touch, and Honerva believed in them. But she didn’t believe that it was fate that had put her on a path to studying astrophysics, which had led her a friendship with the CEO of Altea Enterprises, which had led to a job heading the orbital division of Daibazaal Incorporated and a meeting with its CEO, which had led to one date and then another and then a third. It wasn’t fate that had led Zarkon to decide it was preferable to stay the night her one-bedroom apartment, rather than both of them going back to his luxury penthouse downtown. It wasn’t fate that had led him to trip over Kova (the cat just had a talent for knowing when and where to be to cause chaos) and spill red wine all over the carpet on the exact day she ended up running out of paper towels. It was simply the motion of the universe.

But, standing in the Target down the street from her apartment with a six-pack of Up&Up paper towels under one arm and no sign of Zarkon anywhere, Honerva wondered if perhaps there was a force known as fate acting upon her life. If so, she had obviously caused a major disturbance in it at some point, because not only had she looked at the nearly-empty roll of paper towels and thought it’ll be fine, I’ll get some this weekend about five minutes before Zarkon had called to say he was on his way over, but she’d been gifted with the unique experience of having a significant other who had never before in his life set foot in a Target.

Which was why she had to find him, immediately. He’d been appalled that she had decided to walk (it was two blocks, not worth going down to her building’s garage and navigating the one-way streets in her neighborhood at night), and that had been after the shock delivered to his system when she’d snatched his phone out of his hand so he couldn’t call his assistant to have paper towels delivered to her doorstep. But after the incident with Kova and the glass of red wine, she couldn’t risk leaving Zarkon unsupervised in her apartment with her cat. So she’d put her pants back on and off they’d gone down the street at half past seven at night, and three hours later she had finally acquired the paper towels but lost the lover.

“Zarkon?” she called out, hoping he was just the next aisle over. The whole store was an assault on his senses, apparently, which had translated not only into a (surely unintentionally) hilarious running commentary on nearly every item he encountered, but also a level of curiosity she hadn’t seen in him since the day she’d spent explaining that tachyons were an actual concept in physics, and she wasn’t making fun of him for not having seen Star Trek.

Well, Honerva thought when she received no immediate response. At least he won’t be difficult to find.

Home Decor and Home Improvement, her top two possibilities, yielded nothing, and standing amid generic but aesthetically pleasing fur pillows and faux bronze sculptures of deer heads, Honerva scowled. She refused to text someone who was within shouting distance, but found it improbable that she could lose someone as conspicuous as Zarkon. He was eight feet tall and broad—characteristics she found even more aesthetically pleasing than the pillows—and incapable of subtlety, and he was around here somewhere.

Her eyes hit upon the orange-and-black sign hanging from the ceiling a few sections over, and with a sinking feeling, Honerva realized she knew without a doubt where he was. He’d probably seen the word Bootique and felt compelled to investigate, but he’d never been to the seasonal section of a Target. It was easy to get ensnared.

With only two weeks until Halloween, the aisles were in disarray; a plastic Stormtrooper mask watched her soullessly from beside lawn decorations shaped like black cats, and she saw with distaste that the store already had a vast selection of Christmas lights out along the back wall.

“It’s not even Halloween yet, you animals,” she muttered.

From the next aisle over, she heard a thud and a startled honking sound. “Honerva?”

I love it when I’m right. “I’m over here,” she said, trotting around the end of the aisle toward Zarkon’s voice. “Hold on, I’m—oh quiznak!”

Zarkon removed the cat mask from his head, watching with concern as she dropped the paper towels and doubled over laughing, which was the only logical response she had to seeing him with it. When she gave in and sat down, her hands over her face, he reached out to touch her shoulder. “Honerva, are you all right?”

“I’m—I’m fine, it’s—I’m fine,” she gasped, accepting his hand up when she could breathe again, leaning her forehead against his arm and grinning. “I guess you found the Halloween masks.”

“It’s a bizarre thing.” He put the cat head back on and Honerva had to take a minute to compose herself before she raised her phone. “What are you—“

“Preserving the image for posterity. Do you want the mask? Because I think you should get the mask. You can be Kova for Halloween.”

“I thought our costumes were settled on.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He put the mask back on the shelf and took her hand. Despite their size difference, his fingers always fit between hers, and if she’d believed in things like fate and soulmates and destiny Honerva might have thought they were meant to be that way, linked together. She gave his hand a squeeze. “C’mon, let’s get out of here finally and go home.”

Later on as she listened to him splashing around in the bathroom getting ready for bed, Honerva reached for her phone, staring at the picture she’d taken for a long time. When she’d first met Zarkon he would never have done something so undignified, but the longer they’d been together, the more relaxed he was, at least with her. It was a side she knew she was privileged to see, a side that made her chest ache pleasantly and brought a smile to her lips, knowing she was the only one who had been able to draw it from him.

If she didn’t know better, Honerva might have called it fate.

She was just putting her phone back down when she felt the mattress dip behind her, followed by a cool hand sliding over her ribs.

“Is something the matter?”

She turned over so she was face to face with Zarkon. He was comfortable and sleepy, his eyes half-closed, and when she traced the edges of the plates cresting his forehead with a fingertip, his eyes shut the rest of the way.

“No,” she said quietly, sliding down so she could tuck herself head into the crook of his neck. “Everything’s fine.”

[butts-art]

Egg: soft boiled

Steak: medium rare to rare. Love roasted onions as garnish

Milk: cow

Alcohol: wine and champagne I can hit back pretty well, sake and limoncello too

Warm drink: Forest Berry tea. Wanna feel like a medieval peasant back from the hunt

@eatyourgrapes @maulieber @cogroni