#her husband:

[justalittleguest]

[rmelster]

Going through my long forgotten drafts of the first “The Raven Volumes” (whose focus wasn’t Barnabas nor Lawrance, but their kids), and hot damn, Barnabas (long dead in the moment of the story) was truly evil. Not evil in the sense that he took pleasure of his wrongdoings (that would be sadistic), but evil as in the sense that he felt nothing (nor wrong nor bad) in doing what he did. Sure, he endured a lot of mistreatment and abuse from the hands of the very people that oughted to take care of him (his mother, the Winslow, etc), but there are stiff he does that is inexcusable. Also, remember that a character that does evil things can have some minimum sense of honour and humeante and that not changing at anything his doings,

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Penelope's final gambit, you will always be famous, no matter the subtext.

[celestialalpacaron]

See how she doesn’t send her visitors to hell? Very ✨demure✨ very MINDFUL 🗣️

She’s so pRETTY AND FOR WHAT??? 😭🩷

[rin-sith]

One of my favorite post-EPIC headcanons is that Odysseus' family is just completely accepting of all the unhinged sh*t that he's done.

Odysseus, over dinner, some 2 months after his return: And then I finned the sirens, letting them drown. We ate the tails later.

Telemachus, starry-eyed: OMG GUYS THAT'S MY DAD!! THAT IS!! MY DAD!! (points excitedly) ISN'T HE INCREDIBLE?

Odysseus: And later when he wouldn't stop being in my way I stabbed a god repeatedly with his own trident.

Penelope, heart-eyed: That's my husband. My love. Love of my life. You slay, my king.

The rest of the people at the table are 100% freaked out and probably terrified, btw.

[cup1d-ch4rm]

Five minutes before god games:

[hoshioyoo]

in which crowley tries to convince himself that all is not yet lost, because underneath it all, he is an optimist…

[chez-cinnamon]

Ideas ideas ideas....

Thinking of adventures that could take place in my AU, a fancy ball adventure sounds perfect!!!!!!

There would be more but I had a busy and stressful day lol

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

snuggling in the sun...

[gongyussy]

"we know how to move our bodies, but i didn't know how to manage my heart, so you need help for this"

hi we need to talk more about judo gold medallist christa deguchi.

[gurinpotte]

pov: avatar aang has just misled you. pranked you. because he loves his wife too much

[crescxntmoons]

MY OBJECTIVELY CORRECT LIFE SERIES TEAM UPS!!!!

First up, my dream series:

Second, the series i think would be the most chaotic:

[rmelster]

(Historic) Ship that I ship but I shouldn’t because he was a neglectful ass but I still ship since the minstrels sang that they loved each other.

Isabelle de Bourbon and her cousin, Charles Martin, Count of Charolais (future Charles the Bold).

[pangur-and-grim]

top tier napping compatriots

[bruciemilf]

Alfred honestly can’t say shit about Bruce bringing in strays, because what if the Waynes got him the same way?

I genuinely can’t recall HOW Alfred, British special forces extraordinaire, ended up working for Gotham’s (scary) sweethearts.

In my mind, he came to them bleeding.

There’s a tang of bitterness pooling in his gut. Soldiers don’t have friends. They have guns. And he’s all out.

Just when Alfred thought all is in peril, a tiny little hand gently covers a nasty bullet hole on his abdomen.

The first thing Alfred thinks about is: ‘Jesus, this kid has scary eyes.’

“Hi, Alfred.”

“…How do you—“

“Bruce! Jesus FUCKING Christ, I swear, I’m not paying for your ransom next time you run o—…What the fuck is that?”

If there’s one thing about Thomas that Alfred will never forget is his voice; The bass , so chasmic and powerful it could shake the whole world, and the burning care in his eyes despite his vulgarity.

Bruce, — who’s the tiniest bundle of a boy Alfred witnessed, is yanked up by his father’s strong hands, squeezed to his chest carefully. “Hurt,” he says. There’s a tiny, red handprint on Thomas’ shirt.

“Yeah, I didn’t notice,” Thomas mumbling, looking around.

Maybe local gangs? The bullet point is too precise, too calculated. “Who the hell are you?”

Alfred, with his raspy breath, says, “I’m the terribly rude bloke dying on your doorstep, I’m afraid. Alfred Pennyworth. At your service.”

For a guy who’s about to bleed his last, he sounds awfully sarcastic.

“Yeah, wise guy, no one’s dying on my kid’s birthday. Bruce, tell Dotty to prep up the basement. And tell your mama to get my Budlight out of the cooler. Jesus Christ.”

Alfred ends up hoisted on this man’s back. Thomas asks if he has anyone he wants to call? Anyone that’ll come pick him up? Anyone to bury him, if it comes to it.

Alfred whispers he does not.

Thomas sighs. “Well. Kid‘a been asking for a playmate.”

[sunshines-child]