#ignore the last sentenc

[baphomuttt]

GUYS CAN YOU . SEND RE QUESTS . .. LITERALLY ANYTHING [im a liar primarily phighting again or any fandom im in or smthn idfk] . .. ...

I WILL DRAW OCS ILL DRAW SHIPS ILL DRAW BROKER AND ZUKA MAKING OUT SL

[majinbangus]

Watching Soap interact with children

You: Aw, lookit that! I bet Soap would make a great daddy one day!

Ghost: Johnny's not daddy material

You: What, and you are?

Ghost: 👁 👁

You: 👁👄👁

Alternatively, he'll have you calling him daddy later in the night

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

And that's why she's a Queen

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

The Winged Servant - 13

content warnings: brainwashed whumpee, non-human (angel) whumpee, some weird angel discrimination, let me know if I missed anything!

prev chapter | masterlist

Badly, actually, was how I felt about crepes.

It wasn’t the crepes that were the problem. It wasn’t the sloppiness that required eating them, not even how unprofessional I had to be to eat them in front of someone.

No, mostly the problem was the people. And maybe the fact that I’d slept sitting up against a wall for four hours total the night before, and I was starting to feel a pinch between my eyes.

Kieran led me up a staircase, back to the ground level of the castle. I had been there the night before, when I had been too focused to look around. It felt more like a pavilion than an entire floor of the castle. There were a few walls, a few separations of rooms, but it was mainly held up by columns and pillars. There were tables all over, going past the ends of the columns and all the way outside. Two guards stood by a table together on the edges. I wondered if they were standing in the place where the royal family had killed a guard the night before.

“We hold breakfast and dinner here every day for anyone that wants it,” Kieran was saying as we walked past empty tables. “It’s not usually super popular, because there aren’t always a lot of different options of food, but it’s nice for people to have a place where they’re guaranteed a meal. Crepes are usually a hit, because they’re so customizable, but most everyone’s cleared out by now.”

It didn’t look to me like most everyone was cleared out. I counted four tables outside and two inside with people sitting at them. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see how many people attended during actual meal times.

And we walked into a kitchen, and it was so loud. I must’ve been around large groups of people at least a few times before I gave my memories to the royal family, but not since becoming a servant. And for the more recent years of it, I hadn’t even served families of nobility. The sound echoed and bounced around, getting stuck in my head like peanut butter on the roof of my mouth.

“What do you want on your crepe?” Kieran asked as we walked into the kitchen, and I swallowed. There had to be at least forty people working here.

“Whatever you see fit, sir.”

He grinned at me, looking slightly confused. “It’s a crepe for you, Onyx. Not me.”

“I don’t…” I glanced to the side. Enunciate, don’t mumble, don’t trail off in the middle of a sentence. I knew how to do this, knew how to answer questions the way that the royal family liked, even when I was tired. “I’ve never had a crepe, sir,” I admitted.

“Really? Never? Do you know what they are?”

“Yes, sir. I think- I think I might have had them before, but… not any time recently. I don’t remember. My apologies. Regardless, I will be grateful for whatever you wish to provide me with.”

“... Okay.” He stared at me for a bit. “If I tell you a few different toppings, will you tell me which ones you like the best? We could go from there.”

“Sir, I don’t- good servants don’t have likes and dislikes.” He had to know that, right? We were in the kitchen of a castle, surrounded by people that were presumably servants. He had to have been testing me, making sure I knew the rules. I did. I could be good.

“You’re not supposed to have likes and dislikes?” he repeated, and I shook my head. “That’s- um, we’re gonna talk about that later. Once you’ve got food in your stomach. Do you have certain toppings that you might be… more grateful than others about?”

This was dangerous territory. If I let myself think too hard about the toppings, I was veering into likes and dislikes and opinions. If I didn’t, I’d be ignoring direct orders.

“Usually I have Her Majesty The Queen’s leftovers for breakfast, sir,” I said quietly. “And I usually get some toast that she doesn’t always eat, and it has strawberry jam on it.”

“You like strawberries?”

I could be a good servant. No likes or dislikes, but I could be good enough to find a way around it. I didn’t like strawberries, that would’ve been opinionated. But maybe if I worded it differently? More objective? “Strawberries… taste good. Sir. I think.” I wasn’t supposed to think, or at least not like that, so the statement wasn’t quite right. But closer, because Kieran was grinning again. Like he’d discovered a cheat code in a video game.

“Yeah. Okay. Thank you for telling me that, Onyx. We’ve got strawberries. Is whip cream okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Great. That’s like, the two most important ingredients for every crepe I eat. Do you have any dietary restrictions?”

Hm.

I knew what dietary restrictions were, of course. I had plenty of restrictions, dietary and otherwise. Of course there were things I couldn’t do, things I couldn’t eat. But they were restrictions imposed by the royal family. There was fruit that made my throat itch, or things that Prince Ryan made sure not to give me, but those weren’t things that I couldn’t eat. Not if someone asked me to.

“I, um. I will eat whatever you see fit, sir. Would you like to know the things that the royal family did not allow me to eat?”

He pursed his lips. Wrong answer, then, but that didn’t make sense. That wasn’t just me trying to think of the right thing to say, that was an exact line from the script that I was always supposed to follow. That was what the royal family had trained me to say.

But Kieran was not the royal family. Of course he had different rules, different uses for his servants. Of course my old script wouldn’t cut it anymore.

“Okay,” he said eventually. “I don’t want to know what the royal family didn’t let you do. I’m going to get you a crepe with strawberries and whip cream. There are other fruits, if you’d like any?”

“... I will eat whatever you see fit, Sir.” I already knew that was wrong, but what the fuck else was I supposed to say?

“Are you at all interested in blueberries? Or mangos?” I hesitated, and he smiled thinly. “I know. Whatever I see fit. Alright, then. I’ll get the other fruit for you too. If you find a seat somewhere, I’ll bring it out in a few minutes. I like eating outside the best, but we can eat wherever you’d like.”

“Of course, sir,” I managed weakly.

Find a seat somewhere.

A daunting task, because the tables meant six tables of people that I didn’t know if I was supposed to bow to or what titles to call. But regardless, it was a task that had been asked of me.

I could manage whatever task I needed to that had been asked of me.

This task was different, though. It was a choice given to me. Choices weren’t given to me. Servants were for orders. And I supposed it wasn’t a real choice—I was picking the one that I thought Kieran would prefer the most—but it was still terrifying.

Outside, first. That’s what he’d said, that he liked the tables outside the best. Four tables with people at them. Three—one group had left in the time since I’d been out here. Three tables of people. And when I was next to a person, of course, all my attention was supposed to be focused on them. Serving them to the best of my abilities. Alone out here, with three tables of people, I was forced to notice the way they stared at me. Or rather, my wings.

This wasn’t new, exactly. Back when noble families were allowed to know about me, the queen had told me to hold still while they felt the texture of the fur on my wings. They’d never felt anything like it, they’d said. Fascinating, they’d called me. They would’ve loved to see me fly, and it was the only time I thought Her Majesty might have regretted breaking my wing.

And it was her right to display me. It was the nobility’s right to stare, to pet my wings and ask how much force it would take to rip the skin that stretched between each bone.

I just wasn’t used to the staring anymore, that was all. If Kieran planned to have me out in public more often, then perhaps I needed to get used to it again.

I eventually chose a table close to the door, so that Kieran would not have to walk far to get to me. So that he would not need to look hard to ensure that I did not run away. I wouldn’t, no matter how many privileges I was given, but it was still odd to give me so many. Outside, alone, picking a seat and waiting for breakfast to be delivered to me. It was wrong. It was not how things were supposed to be.

And yet, it was how Kieran wanted it to be. So I stared at the grain in the wood that the table was made out of and ignored the way that people were staring at me.

~

taglist: @rainydaywhump @kaleidoscope-of-thoughts @toyybox @risk606

[stevethehairington]

"and you're trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you don't even have a name for."

- you are jeff, richard siken

The back of the Winnebago is so quiet. It is so so quiet.

Four rowdy children under the same roof and not a single one of them says a word now. No jokes, no laughter, no bickering. The only sound amongst them all is their shaky inhales and measured exhales as they all marinate in this— this.

The plan that has to work, the uncertainty of what lies ahead. The heavy truth that this may very well be the last time some of them see each other.

Even Robin and her near constant stream of consciousness rambling is silent beside him. The only way he knows she's actually there is when they sail over a pothole and her shoulder bumps into his.

It's fucking eerie.

The silent knell of a death march — or ride. Whatever.

It makes Eddie's stomach turn.

Eddie is nervous. He's terrified, actually. This is bigger than anything he's ever dealt with in his life before, and he doesn't know how he's made it this far, he really doesn't.

But even more, he doesn't know how everyone else around him is so... calm. Sure, they've all done this before, it's far from their first time, but jesus fucking christ, have they really gotten used to fighting interdimensional monsters that threaten to destroy the world? Does that not scare the absolute bejesus out of them? He doesn't understand how no one else is losing their head about it. How an eleven year old is facing fucking doomsday like its nothing while he quakes in his god damn boots over here.

Eddie tightens his grip on his makeshift spear, knuckles going white. Clenches his jaw so hard he's scared he'll crack a tooth.

He tries not to think about how a cracked tooth is the least of his worries right now. How that actually doesn't even sound all that bad compared to the cracked limbs and cracked jaw and fucking vaporized eyeballs that loom in their futures. In Max's future.

Jesus christ, she's so young. Chrissy was so young. Eddie is so young.

His chest feels tight all of the sudden, his brain fuzzy and unfocused. His vision starts to go a little spotty and he can't breathe, he can't fucking breathe.

He can't fucking lose it, though, he can't. Not here, not now. Not in front of everybody else who's fucking cool as a god damn cucumber.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, tries to slow back down. Digs his nails into his palm until the pain of it grounds him. Brings him back.

The fist around his lungs loosens, just enough, as Eddie walks through the breathing exercises Wheeler taught him when he'd nearly lost his marbles last time.

He hasn't even noticed that the Winnebago has stopped moving. Doesn't see that it's all but emptied out. He's the only one left.

Until Steve god damn Harrington slides into the empty space beside him, close enough to touch, and says, "Hey."

Eddie startles, whole body spasming and flinching back until Steve holds up a hand like Eddie's some spooked wild horse and he's trying to ease him back down.

His heart rate slows, but he's still trembling.

Steve reaches out, and his hand curls around Eddie's wrist, thumb coming to rest just over his pulse point. His hand looks rough, still scraped to hell, covered in dirt and blood and dried bat sludge, but his touch is soft. Gentle.

Despite that, it's still solid. Grounding in a way that Eddie needs.

Eddie looks over, because how could he not, and Steve's... he's already looking back. His eyebrows are drawn together in concern, his mouth pursed, like he wants to say more, but chooses not to.

He looks so... he looks so.

And Eddie feels this, this thing expanding in his chest, looking into those glossy eyes, and it's— it almost feels like, like hope or something equally as ridiculous.

It makes him want to laugh, because who the hell could hope in a time like this?

This situation? It's fucking dire. And their plan? It's built on assumptions and fucking faith.

Someone isn't going to make it. That's just how these things work. Eddie's run enough campaigns with storylines just like this one to know the bitter truth of it. There are too many of them, too many moving parts, too many unpredictables. The odds are just not fucking on their side.

(And he has this terrible, horrible feeling, this rock solid pit, in the bottom of his gut, that it's going to be him.

He's the least experienced here, after all, and he's the most likely to freeze in the face of danger.

If someone's going to die today, it's going to be him.)

It's a fact that Eddie has resigned himself to. He's— he hasn't accepted it, per se, but he's acknowledged it. Has started to let it set into his bones.

It doesn't feel real. But it doesn't not feel real either.

He doesn't know what to feel anymore, really.

But Steve, with his big eyes, and his sturdy hands, and his reassuring touch — he feels a lot like hope, like something better than hope.

Something that Eddie can't quite put his finger on, but it seizes his chest in a whole new way.

Eddie wants to chase that feeling.

Wants to let himself believe.

(He knows he shouldn't.)

(Lying in the dirt and a pool of his own blood four hours later, he's glad he didn't.)

[soulfullives]

dorcas pressed a kiss to marlene’s forehead. “don’t do anything stupid, will you?” she asked, and watched the other woman chuckle.

“when have i ever?” she asked, loosening her tie. “not stupid is basically my middle name. i’ve always been a cautious and careful, rational and respectful person.”

“yeah, right.” dorcas grinned, wrapping her arms around her. “go, now, you don’t want to be late.”

“right.” marlene smiled, kissing her temple. “i’ll be home late, if you want to go to sleep do so, since i don’t know when i’ll be home. i’ll try to be early as soon as possible, though.”

“alright! take care!” dorcas called out after marlene, who blew her a kiss as she closed the door behind her. “i love you!”

the next time she saw marlene, she was dead.

[suiana]

YES THATS EXACTLY WHAT I MEAN WHEN I SAY I WANT TOMIE CONTENT BSHSHSHSHS

also stop lying we all know u secretly whimper when u write smut abt ur yanderes smh

also u want 100 dollars for that audio? here u have 200 do it now and post it /j

👿 wdym >:( I don't whimper when I write smut I'm always just 🗿

anyways yandere tomie would definitely get her followers to stalk you. probably makes them scare you too so that you'll find solace in her warm and comforting embrace. and if that doesn't work she probably goes insane trying to make you see why she's the best option for you.

yandere tomie would fuck up your life and haunt your dreams whenever you try to deny her of your affection. how could you?? she's perfect, a goddess! how dare you reject a goddess. and even if she loves you, you certainly deserve punishment for your defiance.

[oblivious-aro]

Maya Fey in Ace Attorney 1: Her insecurity about her usefulness after she loses her powers provides an interesting commentary on the ‘magic user’ role that girls in fiction (especially in 90s/00s media) are often given to ‘justify’ their presence in a primarily male cast to a primarily (though not exclusively) male audience. Her magic is her use. Her magic is her value. What message does this send to the audience who lives in the real world where girls can’t use magic? 

Not only is the inadequacy one would feel from not having access to the ability they’ve been led to believe gives them their value acknowledged, the game then goes on to assure that these fears, although understandable, are unfounded. Maya isn’t useful because of her ability to channel spirits, but because of who she is as a person. Yes that does include spirit channelling sometimes, but Maya doesn’t lose her value when she loses that power. She still makes essential contributions towards winning trials because she is just as stubbornly determined as Phoenix to find the truth. Maya’s value doesn't come from having a special power, it comes from the same attributes that give Phoenix his value; attributes that anyone can have, no matter what they’ve been led to believe about themselves.

Maya Fey in all subsequent games: Constantly gets kidnapped and/or needs to be saved by Phoenix.

[subsequentibis]

i have the classic control freak's achilles heel, which is that i don't know how to delegate because i don't trust anyone else to do it right, and then i overcommit and can't be in all the places at once i need to be

[kingcunny]

Do you think Viserys had any idea about Rhaenyra's affair with Harwin before Jace's birth?

most likely, yeah.

after *whatever* happened between rhaenyra and criston to make him turn against her, harwin had become her new champion. at her and laenors wedding tourney rhaenyra gave her favor to harwin while laenor gave his to joffery. surely viserys mustve known *something* was up.

the show skips over most of their developing relationship, but considering we see harwin being so close with rhaenyra, baby sitting her kids while shes giving birth, attending their training, lyonel himself commenting on their closeness, im gonna assume it went down more or less the same.

i dont think viserys wouldve really cared though, because of the very important fact that they got together *after* rhaenyras marriage.

as we saw viserys doesnt really care if rhaenyra is fucking around, as long as 1. its not daemon shes fucking and 2. its no one else he sees as a threat. had rhaenyra and harwin gotten together before her marriage, i think viserys wouldve gotten upset about it, because then harwin *would* have been a threat, someone trying to "steal" his babygirl away from him. but since rhaenyra is married, all their relationship can ever be is an affair. it doesnt matter how much they love each other, they must keep it (more or less) a secret. and after rhaenyra started having his babies well, viserys doesnt give a fuck who fathered them because theyre *her* children.

[thestarsperish]

random drawings on ms paint i did i guess . the yttd ones are from 2023 while the elehitch + bss ones are more recent

[ask-team-grim]

In response to this

Dravena: Wait, so you’re basically just a glorified schoolteacher’s assistant?

Dravena: I thought legends did more interestin��� stuff than that.

Dravena: Uh, no offense of course!

Dravena: But like, what do ya even like to help teach about? I’m sorry, it’s just…surely there’s more interestin’ stuff you’d like to do with your abilities, right?

Dravena: I mean every legend’s got abilities! That’s what makes ‘em legendary.

//@the-feral-one

[meat-loving-meat]

The LHM fandom is so funny bc everyone’s like I love LHM! Sorry about that. Vanyel is one of my favorite characters of all time! Except for these things he said and this part of his internal monologue. Valdemar changed my life! Half of the books in the series can choke though. I’m writing some LHM fanfiction! I’ve masterfully ignored all the parts of canon that make my crawl. I’ve been in the LHM fandom for half my life! Just to reiterate—I’m sorry for liking these books. Genuinely so sorry. No excuses for this one.

[thisliminalspacedaydreams]

Don't mind me, I've been waiting to write this chapter of the alien fic for 50 000 words. What a reward.

[namecantbeblank]

hit 1k finally on chap 2 of the BBH fic so here's some snippets ✨✨ ignore the formatting I didn't want to go back and do it in ao3. guess who's who

[euphternal]

@aesthetic-writer18 @the-ellia-west @frostedlemonwriter @bifluidmax08