#if you Must know

[of-spaceships-and-cats]

@morningstarwrites gave me an excuse to draw Alastor going feral 🙏 you do NOT want to be on the other side of this demon man.

[emahriel]

This is for the FFXVI & BG3 fans (x)

sound on:

lord have mercy-

[gh0stlyscooter]

Oscar sketch

[revisitingfandoms]

Idea prompt 12- A midsummer night's longing.

(Based kinda off the project bud by @luvielolol. Go check it out!)

(Honestly- I don't know if this more prompt or story blurb, lol.)

It was largely understood. Faerie cookies were created to be the right hands and servents of the virtues. Of course, not all Faerie cookie were this way, but that was their choice and shadow milk would be a fool to begrude them.

Afterall, a number of them when to seek themselves and that was knowledge on its own. Part of him almost wanted to join a few of them- wanting to see their growth, their change and watch them shift and change and-

Shadow Milk shook his head, "Ah- I shall have to put that off, the festivial is important." Part of him looked forward to the festivial- the other half hated having to attend.

The Joy on cookies face was a delight, but dealing with the formalities? The planning? The worshipping? Shadow Milk would rather not.

He had very little problems with planning- infact planning quite often a mental test he quite enjoyed, but the more... formal aspects he could do without.

But of those formalities, their was only one he truly enjoyed. Performed by the very faeries who served under him.

The Faerie Soiree.

A celebration in the form of dnace. A colorful, beautiful enchanting dance. A glorious movement of storytelling, of speaking in beautiful riddles and twisting truths.

Of all things; Shadow Milk loved the Soiree.

Althought he hated the aftermath.

The Soiree had been almost the same as last years which was.. dissappointing at first. But- It was different.

He couldn't stop his eyes the moment he spotted the blonde dancer with closed eyes.

The blonde hair had been what first caught his attention. Faeries didn't typically have blonde hair- in fact he has never seen a Faerie with blonde hair until now.

Yet after a moment after he had quickly noted the lack of Faerie wings. Just considering that fact the blonde Faerie was more then likely only half-Faerie. Which although uncommon, wasn't impossible. Just an oddity.

Yet he couldn't keep his eyes off that dancing Faerie.

He couldn't tell the direct gender of that Faerie- if they had one. They looked danity, each step was in tune with the rest- but yet mixed with a slow movement at the same time. Mere half seconds off, they adjusted well to the rest but they still moved slow.

A delicate step forward in line, the moving green silk ribbion ends flowing their moves as they enter a twirl and as they come back to face the audience- shadow milk can feel his breath being stolen.

Unfocused but so very gorgorous eyes. His right glittering like the sun had given part of itself to shine in eye, his blue like the soft tides of the ocean as they crashed softly against a beaches shore.

His mind as so stuck on this- Witches he doesn't have the correct word for them.

The green long loose sleeves that lose green ribbons were held onto were like dancing willow leaves. The white under shirt and dancing trousers- not even mentioning the twisting jewelry of white vines on the green robe- only made them seem to glow.

They weren't even one of the main dancers- merely a backup. Yet, he was unknowling stealing the show and planting them at shadow milk front thoughts.

"Them," He mindessly says to his nearby attendent, "I want Them."

Its after a moment before he spots the Faerie look upon blonde dancer and then bow with a tone of hestiantance speaks, "It shall be done by lord."

He silently mourned the loss of the blonde dancer upon the end, before remembering what he had mindlessly spoken and felt conflicted.

The Aftermath of the Soiree typically ended in one of two ways. Either a Faerie would be picked from the performers over the course of the festivial by himself or one of the other beasts or none would be picked.

The picked Faerie would end up on of three ways; Typically only the first two had happened, the third had yet to be used.

The first would be spending the night as a, in better words, bedpartner. The second, would be as a compainion, to simply be there for comfort or as a call upon for things of other natures.

The third was for a lifetime partnership. For the Faerie to be seen as a true partner and to be wedded to that virtue.

He understood for Faeries it meant quite a bit for their social standing yet he never quite felt comfortable with just picking a Faerie as a partner- muchless a bedpartner! In fact this was the first time he ever picked a Faerie from the festivial!

Throughout his time waiting, he was a mix of impatient, eager and apprehensive. Just what- or rather who was this blonde half-Faerie who had taken over his mind.

His mind was interuptted with a knock at the door, his festival attentent bows to him, "My lord, the... Faerie has arrived." He notes the hestiance at the word Faerie- only more evidence to his half-Faerie theory then.

Witches, Faerie cookies are so prickly at times with their own kind. Some cookie doesn't act a certain way? Outcasted. Isn't good at what are considered standard Faerie skills? Mistreated. Not completely Faerie- or not even raised in their general culture?

Well. Almost always they never go into Faerie society and if they do, they typically leave it.

His eyes linger on the blonde with closed eyes as they enter the room and bow to him, "Greetings, my lord." Gentle, yet warm. Quiet, yet can easily fill a room.

Something in his mouth is dry as he looks upon the new outfit the other was in. He wore a similar outfit to the one on stage. The same white pants and undershirt, but with a green leaf like top with wrapping vines around his wait and those leaf overtop sleeves meeting right at the edge of his long white sleeves. There seemed to be an odd live yellow flower with a- is that an eye thats blinking?

He chuckle aloud, this halfling just gets more and more interesting.

He waves his hand to his attentant, "Leave us, I call if needed."

The Faerie nods- but he notices they look they give the blonde Faerie. He can't stop the frown that forms on his face at that action. He turns back to the still bowing Blonde. He motions for them to rise- but they don't seem to immediately act. Shadow milk is a bit confused before he speaks, "Rise please, and take a seat on the chair to the next of me."

The other raises without question and slowly making their way to the chair- he notes closed eyes and the blinking flower, but also the way the other feels the room as they walk to the seat. As they take their seat, they sit, hands in their lap, looking the picture of manners.

He offers a tea cup to them, "I am quite curious about you, would you answer my questions, perhaps?" After a good moment the other takes the tea cup and takes a small hestiant sip- no, not quite hestiant. Cautious.

The other speaks in that soft, yet ringing tone, "I am Pure Vanilla Cookie, My lord. It would be an honor to answer your questions."

Pure Vanilla Cookie, he thinks with a smile, what a lovely name. Flows right off the tounge. He hums, "Well then, my dear, I hope you are perpared, I am quite the curious one."

Pure Vanilla, he thinks in the aftermath of the festivial, is a spirited, knowledgable, kind and lovely cookie.

He comes from a small farming village as a sherpard. He was taken in a baby by a sherpard named Brown sugar cookie. He learned he was good with healing magic at an early age when he healed one of the herd. He loved reading, although he struggles to read most things with his poor eyesight. His blinking flower was something he funneled magic into to be able to see temporarily. When one of the younger cookies of the festivial bumped into him, he immeditaly made sure they were okay- healing their scraps as he did.

Yet, he was distant, he was hestiant and he was careful. Perhaps he held an ex-lover? Or even with an even higher likelihood the other Faeries were giving him problems. He even confirmed the pure vanilla was half Faerie as he thought.

Yet as twirls the green flower in his hand that pure vanilla had caught during the festivals flower throwing. He can't help his mind.

Pure vanilla, he thinks.

I want him to be mine.

[vinxle]

"which one is akane and which one is aoi"

just say youre new to the fandom okay nobody will chase you out with pitchforks

[fandomfluffandfuck]

School hasn't even started yet but I feel like I'm setting a fucking record with how stressed I am. My favorite.

[saulwexler]

just accepting I can never be a horror movie person:/ like will this be a "subverts expectations and makes you think" film? or will I be watching women getting hurt for an hour

[neproxrezi]

searching for a new piece of media

[katttkhaos]

i don't know what im doing its 1am why am i writing. why am i writing a house md thing at 1am. guys send help

[s-lycopersicum]

If I had a coin for every time I looked at a yuri manga panel and thought: "Wait, did the artist used to draw Love Live fanart?"

...I'd only have two coins, which is an indictment of my knowledge of yuri fanartists, really. Surely there are more.

[communist-hatsunemiku]

How many followers do you have?

youre not a cop right?

[upsettingandunfortunateclasshate]

This is nothing like when the queen died or Philip died, it was worth staying in on your phone

I'm off out

Fuck America

[zhnnveuxpasdrmir]

super-fast physical maturation of the Chosen Space Baby is such a lazy trope in sci fi

freeing the writers from the slog of dealing with the consequences of childbirth

quite symbolic if you think about it

[revisitingfandoms]

Idea Prompt 11- What lengths would a father not go for his child?

Soulmates.

An acursed word. An acursed happening and the damnation of yourself.

Soulmates.

A persons everything. They are forever crossed between souls and doomed to forever long for the other. To forever want and wish and dream-

Soulmates.

You cannot live without your soulmate, regardless of reason. To deny your soulmate is to deny yourself. To deny yourself is to die a slow and painful death.

Soulmates.

That words ponders in his head. He knew from the moment he held him, from the moment his boy was put into his arms.

Soulmates, your other half in everything, aren't romantic. Many can precive it that way, but in pratice, soulmates can be anyone.

(Your worst enemy, you family, your rival, a stranger on street who you just met, someone you will never meet, they will always be the person who can see through you- see and know everything about you, regardless of if you try to hide it.)

(There isn't any outright physical tell of who your soulmate was, no markings or outright explantions. You just know from one moment of touch.)

("This one is mine.")

(And only after that would that tiny marking appear, after beholding that realization. A marking that always appeared on top of a cookies heart.)

He knew from the moment Dark Choco cookie was placed into his arms that his son was his soulmate.

(Only one of his comrades has ever met their soulmate and that was hollyberry. The dragon curled upon her spoke it all.)

(The other three had yet to meet theirs.)

(It becomes aparent that his attempts to keep his son at distant lengths to protect him- keep people from making the connection that they were soulmates only drew to push his son away.)

(It made his boy desperate and with that dear desperation. Dark Cacao lost his son- his boy.)

(And silently it crushed him.)

(Until the years circled around- until his son, his Dark Choco came back- different, twisted and steaming with hurt and he cursed himself over and over again.)

(He had damned his boy.)

(And more then once those thoughts crept in.)

(Why didn't he stop dark Choco? Why didn't he keep his locked up in the citidal and safe and warm and protected like he should have done? Why did he care about what those under him thought? If Dark choco was their son- their soulmate, they would have done the same!)

(...His son stopped himself, he fought against that acursed sword for him- for his father.)

(He wouldn't let his son be taken- leave him again.)

He sighs as he stares out into the cold wasteland outside of the citidals borders. The First Watcher Caramel Arrow walks over to him, "My king, the prince is.." He can feel the confliction, the hestiance but she steels herself like any warrior of his kingdom.

Afterall, he had made that half maddened accounment shortly after Dark Choco had been brought in.

("He is my son! He is my Kindred one! If any one of you had to make that choice because of their citizens they would have just quieted the masses to keep them by their side!")

"...He is still adjusting my leige. The doctors speak of... of the things he suffered under the other cookies of darkness, notably Pomegranate Cookie."

He narrows his eyes, "And the search for them?" Caramel Arrow bows her head further, "We have yet to locate her, but we have found something known as the oven thats under their use. However it wouldbe several months long to reach there and the firepower needed would leave the kingdom extremly vulernable."

He grunts, not an option. He refuses to leave his son alone, (He was already left alone for far too long.). "The bait?" The first watcher shakes her head, "The young cookie we captured was named Poison Mushroom has yet to draw out the others. Yet we find signs that they may be plotting to get him back."

Dark Cacao nods in turn, "Keep your guard up First Watcher, You are dismissed." Caramel arrow nods her head as she leaves.

For his his son, he would do anything to keep him close.

For him, the world.

[emahriel]

having unholy thoughts about fjorn on this thursday afternoon

[qss-i-9]

the devil is tempting me with something that i probably shouldn't buy and would have nowhere to put it and like. i'm not fucking explaining that

this should be something i buy if i ever get a place will. some day i will live on my own and i will be HAPPY. and maybe have a mini collection of men