#i could go on but I'll leave it at that

[rainingincale]

.

[veryintricaterituals]

It was queerbait, actually (A repository)

(It's almost three am but I am fuming, I've been collecting these for a while, my evidence, I WILL write a detailed post about this in a few days but I wanted to leave this here in case anyone else wanted to see how fucking deep this goes)

HYPOTESIS: Nandermo is textbook queerbaiting, not in spite the characters being queer but BECAUSE of it. The ship was used deliberately by the writers, the actors and the marketing in order to bring lgbt viewership to the show with NO intention on ever delivering on their promise.

Also the show presented itself as queer, marketed itself as queer and went to win GLAAD awards two years in a row then proceded to have no m/m or f/f couples for SIX seasons. Their queer rep were just jokes.

WHAT'S QUEERBAITING:

(I hate that I have to use wikipedia and dictionary.com but the actual articles about it are behind paywalls and I am poor)

Okay on to WWDITS

Let's talk marketing:

These are from season 3, 4, 5 and 6

Season five:

The show is over, it had six seasons, where were my m/m or f/f couples? Because I sure as hell didn't see one apart from the one episode with Freddie, that's it, that's all we got. Apart from that it was just jokes.

---

But that's not about nandermo, you say, it's just about queerness, then what about this: FUCKING HEAVY HANDED NANDERMO MARKETING FOR YEARS:

OR THIS:

How about what the show's socials were posting, this is from season 3 or 4

Now let's see what the writers were saying (this is before season 5):

The infamous that's his boss moment came from this:

But before that we had:

This is Harvey in 2022:

Here's Harvey today:

And here's Kayvan in 2022

Here's Kayvan last year:

And today:

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

jin; i'll be there live clip ✰

[always-a-king-or-queen]

The ache will go away, eventually. 

That was what the Professor told them, the day they got back. When they tumbled from the wardrobe in a heap of tangled limbs, and found that the world had been torn from under their feet with all the kindness of a serpent. 

They picked themselves off of the floorboards with smiles plastered on child faces, and sat with the Professor in his study drinking cup after cup of tea. 

But the smiles were fake. The tea was like ash on their tongues. And when they went to bed that night, none of them could sleep in beds that were too foreign, in bodies that had not been their own for years. Instead they grouped into one room and sat on the floor and whispered, late into the night. 

When morning came, Mrs. Macready discovered the four of them asleep in Peter and Edmund’s bedroom, tangled in a heap of pillows and blankets with their arms looped across one another. They woke a few moments after her entry and seemed confused, lost even, staring around the room with pale faces, eyes raking over each framed painting on the wall and across every bit of furniture as if it was foreign to them. “Come to breakfast,” Mrs. Macready said as she turned to go, but inside she wondered. 

For the children’s faces had held the same sadness that she saw sometimes in the Professor’s. A yearning, a shock, a numbness, as if their very hearts had been ripped from their chests.

At breakfast Lucy sat huddled between her brothers, wrapped in a shawl that was much too big for her as she warmed her hands around a mug of hot chocolate. Edmund fidgeted in his seat and kept reaching up to his hair as if to feel for something that was no longer there. Susan pushed her food idly around on her plate with her fork and hummed a strange melody under her breath. And Peter folded his hands beneath his chin and stared at the wall with eyes that seemed much too old for his face. 

It chilled Mrs. Macready to see their silence, their strangeness, when only yesterday they had been running all over the house, pounding through the halls, shouting and laughing in the bedrooms. It was as if something, something terrible and mysterious and lengthy, had occurred yesterday, but surely that could not be. 

She remarked upon it to the Professor, but he only smiled sadly at her and shook his head. “They’ll be all right,” he said, but she wasn’t so sure. 

They seemed so lost. 

Lucy disappeared into one of the rooms later that day, a room that Mrs. Macready knew was bare save for an old wardrobe of the professor’s. She couldn’t imagine what the child would want to go in there for, but children were strange and perhaps she was just playing some game. When Lucy came out again a few minutes later, sobbing and stumbling back down the hall with her hair askew, Mrs. Macready tried to console her, but Lucy found no comfort in her arms. “It wasn’t there,” she kept saying, inconsolable, and wouldn’t stop crying until her siblings came and gathered her in their arms and said in soothing voices, “Perhaps we’ll go back someday, Lu.” 

Go back where, Mrs. Macready wondered? She stepped into the room Lucy had been in later on in the evening and looked around, but there was nothing but dust and an empty space where coats used to hang in the wardrobe. The children must have taken them recently and forgotten to return them, not that it really mattered. They were so old and musty and the Professor had probably forgotten them long ago. But what could have made the child cry so? Try as she might, Mrs. Macready could find no answer, and she left the room dissatisfied and covered in dust. 

Lucy and Edmund and Peter and Susan took tea in the Professor’s room again that night, and the next, and the next, and the next. They slept in Peter and Edmund’s room, then Susan and Lucy’s, then Peter and Edmund’s again and so on, swapping every night till Mrs. Macready wondered how they could possibly get any sleep. The floor couldn’t be comfortable, but it was where she found them, morning after morning. 

Each morning they looked sadder than before, and breakfast was silent. Each afternoon Lucy went into the room with the wardrobe, carrying a little lion figurine Edmund had carved her, and came out crying a little while later. And then one day she didn’t, and went wandering in the woods and fields around the Professor’s house instead. She came back with grassy fingers and a scratch on one cheek and a crown of flowers on her head, but she seemed content. Happy, even. Mrs. Macready heard her singing to herself in a language she’d never heard before as Lucy skipped past her in the hall, leaving flower petals on the floor in her wake. Mrs. Macready couldn’t bring herself to tell the child to pick them up, and instead just left them where they were. 

More days and nights went by. One day it was Peter who went into the room with the wardrobe, bringing with him an old cloak of the Professor’s, and he was gone for quite a while. Thirty or forty minutes, Mrs. Macready would guess. When he came out, his shoulders were straighter and his chin lifted higher, but tears were dried upon his cheeks and his eyes were frightening. Noble and fierce, like the eyes of a king. The cloak still hung about his shoulders and made him seem almost like an adult. 

Peter never went into the wardrobe room again, but Susan did, a few weeks later. She took a dried flower crown inside with her and sat in there at least an hour, and when she came out her hair was so elaborately braided that Mrs. Macready wondered where on earth she had learned it. The flower crown was perched atop her head as she went back down the hall, and she walked so gracefully that she seemed to be floating on the air itself. In spite of her red eyes, she smiled, and seemed content to wander the mansion afterwards, reading or sketching or making delicate jewelry out of little pebbles and dried flowers Lucy brought her from the woods. 

More weeks went by. The children still took tea in the Professor’s study on occasion, but not as often as before. Lucy now went on her daily walks outdoors, and sometimes Peter or Susan, or both of them at once, accompanied her. Edmund stayed upstairs for the most part, reading or writing, keeping quiet and looking paler and sadder by the day. 

Finally he, too, went into the wardrobe room. 

He stayed for hours, hours upon hours. He took nothing in save for a wooden sword he had carved from a stick Lucy brought him from outside, and he didn’t come out again. The shadows lengthened across the hall and the sun sank lower in the sky and finally Mrs. Macready made herself speak quietly to Peter as the boy came out of the Professor’s study. “Your brother has been gone for hours,” she told him crisply, but she was privately alarmed, because Peter’s face shifted into panic and he disappeared upstairs without a word. 

Mrs. Macready followed him silently after around thirty minutes and pressed an ear to the door of the wardrobe room. Voices drifted from beyond. Edmund’s and Peter’s, yes, but she could also hear the soft tones of Lucy and Susan. 

“Why did he send us back?” Edmund was saying. It sounded as if he had been crying.  

Mrs. Macready couldn’t catch the answer, but when the siblings trickled out of the room an hour later, Edmund’s wooden sword was missing, and the flower crown Susan had been wearing lately was gone, and Peter no longer had his old cloak, and Lucy wasn’t carrying her lion figurine, and the four of them had clasped hands and sad, but smiling, faces. 

Mrs. Macready slipped into the room once they were gone and opened the wardrobe, and there at the bottom were the sword and the crown and the cloak and the lion. An offering of sorts, almost, or perhaps just items left there for future use, for whenever they next went into the wardrobe room.  

But they never did, and one day they were gone for good, off home, and the mansion was silent again. And it had been a long time since that morning that Mrs. Macready had found them all piled together in one bedroom, but ever since then they hadn’t quite been children, and she wanted to know why.

She climbed the steps again to the floor of the house where the old wardrobe was, and then went into the room and crossed the floor to the opposite wall. 

When she pulled the wardrobe door open, the four items the Pevensie children had left inside of it were missing. 

And just for a moment, it seemed to her that a cool gust of air brushed her face, coming from the darkness beyond where the missing coats used to hang.

[guardian-angle22]

911: Lone Star | 5.01 -> Tarlos phone call

[attleboy]

Heard that Ragatha played the cello while Zooble can play the drums

i ALSO heard, anon from [checks calender] december.... a little late to this but better late them never, eh? :D enjoy two pieces with vastly contrasting vibes!!!

i play neither of these instruments so i reallyyyy hope everything looks okay :')

[starry-bi-sky]

Hello Starry! I just had a thought about your Danyal al Ghul AU, and didn't have anyone else to share it with, so here we go:

If in this universe Bruce is Jewish, and Danny knows this(probably from a google search), he may wear a Star of David necklace to have a piece of his father with him at all times, since he knows he will never get to meet him. Or maybe the necklace sits in a box under a floorboard, because he can't stand the constant reminder of the father he'll never get to have. Maybe he observes Sam and her family celebrate Jewish holidays, or he learns how to by himself, but uses the time to mourn, instead of celebrate.

Anyways, hope all is well, and thank you for sharing your writing!

AAHHHH??? YOUR BRAIN??? Thank you!! I love sharing my writing, it soothes my need for attention lol. lmao, even. (Also how did you know i was thinking of my danyal al ghul au today -- i have an unfinished draft that i was thinking of delving into after my work meeting) also aahh!!!!!!!! im so happy that you wanted to share your thoughts with me about it <333

But dude BOTH of these ideas are soo?? GOOD and ANGSTY. I love angsty. Danny would for sure know if Bruce was Jewish, lil guy did an obsessive amount of research on his dad the moment he got his hands on a computer and figured out how they worked. Danny has like, a three inch thick folder almost on his father alone. Anything he could get his hands on, he's got it. That thickness is almost exclusively from his first like, six months in Amity Park. He keeps it in a box in his closet, along with his growing-folder on Damian and his achievements as Damian Wayne. He pages through it when he's feeling like mourning.

First off: him wearing a Star of David necklace to feel connected to Bruce. That is SO sad and I love it so much. He bought it with an allowance he'd been given when he first started living with the Fentons, he keeps it tucked under his shirt so nobody even knows he has it. Sam and Tucker don't until it slips out while he's hanging out with them and when they ask him about it, Danny very reluctantly tells them that his father is Jewish. When he's distracted, nervous, or sad, he fidgets with it. How this looks is that he looks like he's kinda rubbing his chest, like ungrasping and grasping something.

Second Off: him keeping it in a box under the floorboards. That is also so, so good. He's got it in the box along with a few other things that remind him of his father and Damian and his mother. He takes it out when he's feeling particularly lonely and homesick, it's a feeling that never really goes away even after five years of living in Amity Park. It's like a longing for something you'll never see again, but isn't that just how grief works? i can just imagine him sitting against the bed, late at night and back from patrol. He's still in his ghost form, his katana laid on the ground next to him, and his almost bird-like cape pooling down beside him as he cups the necklace in his hand like he's cradling an egg. Maybe he's bleeding from somewhere, and he's telling the necklace about patrol, murmured soft in Arabic.

When he finds out Sam is Jewish he probably, after much consideration, asks if he can observe their holidays -- after all, researching Jewish holidays only does so much. Sam agrees when he explains why, much to her parents chagrin, and he sometimes tags along. But once he gets an understanding of how they go, he starts doing it on his own. Somewhat. He celebrates with Sam for most of it, and then has some time to himself where he celebrates it on his own. So it's a little bit of both.

^^^ which brings me to thinking about my danyal snippet here where Sam is at a Wayne gala and tears into her parents over Danny in front of Bruce. And it's making me think of, with this idea in mind, Sam in a moment of emotional impulsivity, saying "I know that he wears a Star of David because his father is Jewish and he wants to be closer to him, because he loves him so very fucking much." And while saying that, briefly makes direct eye contact with Bruce as a way to tell him "I know you're his fucking dad. Look at the son you have left behind."

If only for the emotional gut punch that can leave Bruce with. 🥰

Thank you for the ask! I had a lot of fun responding to it, have a fantastic evening/day/night.

[suugarbabe]

Mattheo Riddle HC's

Mattheo is not a shy person whatsover, but he's not boisterous like his other friends

He tends to keep to himself because growing up as the Dark Lord's son meant you had to always be prepared for any type of reaction

He's good at reading people's body language (again he learned this as a protective factor for himself)

He has scars on his knuckles because he just cannot walk away from an opportunity to fight and prove himself

When dating him, he needs constant reassurance that he's doing okay or that you're not mad at him

He displays an "I don't give a fuck attitude" but when it comes to the person he's dating all he can do is think about how they're feeling and what their thoughts or opinions are

He smokes more when he's drinking, or when he's stressed, but outside of those events he doesn't really smoke

He's a big fan of teasing, that's how he flirts. He doesn't really compliment the person, more so just teases them or makes small comments to see them blush

Contrary to popular belief, Mattheo prefers the quiet type, the bookish type that tends to avoid other's if able

He likes the ones that tend to keep to themselves, but can also hold their own if necessary. The one's that observe from afar and knows how to respond with sass but its rare anyone hears them talk?

He secretly loves gossip, but not in the way that Pansy and Enzo gossip. More so in the way that you pick up on little things and mention them to him

He's not a huge PDA fan, but he does like to do small things like rub your hip in passing in the hall or leaving a note on your desk in potions because he sits in the same spot as you the class before you

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Jin Ling: Master Sleuth

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[radiance1]

Vlad owned a cookbook.

Keyword, owned.

But you see, it was far from an ordinary cookbook.

It was a bit magical in nature, not on any purpose of Vlad's part, despite being the one to make it. It was created a while after Vlad stopped having an obsession with Maddie and became on somewhat better terms with Jack, in which he decided to entirely ignore one Daniel Fenton.

Instead, he focused on creating the perfect cookbook that has ever graced the mortal plane. Made from the highest leather, the best finest paper and bound together with the best thread he could find.

All helpfully sourced from the Ghost Zone.

Of course, after all of that he had to, well, fill it with recipes.

He had multiple duplicates scouring the internet for various recipes, and since it's for personal use he doesn't have to care for copyright or whatever since it won't be used by anyone but him. While also looking around in the Ghost Zone for specific types of ghosts.

Mostly grannies.

Overtime and with help from his multiple duplicates his cookbook has quickly become filled up, though for some reason there seemed to be an endless number of pages left unfinished, doesn't matter since it's just more space.

Then he started to encounter the spirits of witches, wizards, warlocks, shamans. You get it.

He took recipes from them too, because when he meant this would be the greatest cookbook, he meant it, and what is potion making if not Alchemy, and what is Alchemy if not cooking?

So, after some time, with blood, sweat, and tears being poured into his book with recipes from everywhere and his own personal recipe along with few decorations here and there, making it look less like a common book and more like the prized treasure it truly is, and Vlad's work is finally complete.

The greatest cookbook to ever grace the mortal plane.

He went to sleep happy, woke up the next day happy, used his newfound cookbook happily and was overall having the greatest of times.

He also found out that his cookbook became sentient. Which is nice, because he can just call out a page and it'll flip right through to it, but he doesn't recall how it became sentient.

He's been watching it carefully before completion, and every time it came in contact with ectoplasm it never became sentient like the food the Fentons produce (And yes, living food is indeed within the endless pages of his book), so it maybe had something to do with the more magical recipes contained within.

Not that he cared, really, since it served it's purpose extremely well.

Except, a few months later, with a visit from the Fentons to his mansion, he finds he lost it.

Vlad, predictably, is in shambles.

Is it because his cookbook is a genuine danger to society if in the wrong hands?

No.

Perhaps because contained within its pages are high level alchemical recipes?

No.

Or maybe because there was a recipe to create some kind of potion to kill an immortal, make someone immortal, or reverse death? (Honestly he didn't even remember where he got that one)

Fuck no.

He's in shambles because he didn't even get to use a quarter of the recipes that weren't even his own.

Also, because it's became his technical technically both his son and best friend.

Who does he accuse first?

One Danny Fenton.

Because it only disappeared after Danny came to visit, and while he wouldn't put it past Jack to do something incredibly stupid, the man was nowhere near his book at the time!

Danny, predictably, is not at all amused.

Vlad then pesters him to go out and search for his missing greatest creation and doesn't stop until Danny agrees.

So, now Danny has to find a cookbook that can and probably is a genuine danger to society if someone decides to use the far less than normal recipes.

Also, why the fuck did Vlad even have them??

[thesarcasticism]

one of my favorite parts of p3wm act 2, shinjiro rapping "deep breath, deep breath" while everyone else struggles against the arcana justice/chariot shadow and then "the battle for everyone's souls" comes on and they all do a sick fight sequence

[lollitree]

Since PMD is winning I thought I'd draw my team! (from memory)

Also I can't forget the strongest team member aside from the mains:

[shadamypositivity]

I love the idea of Shadow's tail giving him away, like he's never really thought abt it before, and then a long time passed where there was no reason he'd be feeling any joy, then Amy Rose comes along and she's so sweet and kind and really tries to connect with him and then one day without him even realizing it, his tail is wagging at just the sight of her and he's so shy bc its completely involuntary and

[thatswhatsushesaid]

i think fandom spaces would become much more enjoyable across the board if people stopped flipping their pancakes over other fans enjoying characters that they don't like. or, god forbid, like them but in 'the wrong way.'

[yasmeensh]

Story update

I got to write a good chunk of the opening these past two days. Excited to get more work done over March break. And I can't wait to get to writing more about my daughter T-T But she comes in a bit later in the story. Still in the first act, though.

Some more character design doodles:

[constellationcrowned]