#in like the weirdest way

[benevolenterrancy]

~ Extremely Unwilling Magical Protagonists Attempt To Outrun The Plot And Not Fucking Die ~

(@takofukkatsumi this tag is from a while ago but it hasn't left my brain -- L-Space got very weird all of a sudden)

[dapurinthos]

forever annoyed at the lack of non-woven jedi garments. excuse you, fibrecraft is the basis of society. where are they getting their cloth from? are they weaving it themselves? are they spinning it themselves? where is the knitwear. you cannot tell me that there are no sweaters in the jedi order. there are probably hideous sweaters made from fourteen different colours of yarn because they're made from the wool leftover from other projects. all of the colours manage to clash. and embroidery is just too good for teaching patience. hand-sewing in general is good and meditative.

these people are going to be darning their own socks, patching holes in their robes. they are going to have needles and thread in their survival kits and know how to hold the cloth tension just right with the force so they can re-weave the bigger holes by using tiny, straight sticks to hold the warp in place.

[zira-draws]

my contribution to maxley apocalypse (feeling a little bit insane)

[littlepikmins]

I like the idea that Tim and Bernard are easily able to get along with people, but are also both little freaks deep down

[solargeist]

mother spore and mayor scar for the poor plesse djejssjksiw

I called her, I was in the graveyard alone and I called her, she sounded sleepy like she woke from her tomb And as the soil pushed me under--I tasted dirt, I tasted wonder

[myokk]

💘

[beifong-brainrot]

No actually I find it so weird that people are so insistent that Kuvira simply has to be a lesbian and she never loved Baatar Jr. Like I also am a sapphic Kuvira believer, and you don't have to like Baavira but what is the obsession with Kuvira being a lesbian specifically.

Argumets about Kuvira never truly caring for Baatar ring kinda hollow because he honestly seems like the only person she actually did care for. Oh she tried to kill him? That doesn't really mean she didn't love him. She just valued her empire over him, which is very in line with Kuvira's characterisation thus far.

Honestly it's not that she didn't love him she's just a shitty person.

[buttered-milky]

Russingon being an incestuous couple is so fucking interesting to me for what it represents narratively. (Yes, I know they are not canonically a couple. No, I do not care, because I do believe the coding is on purpose. Even if it’s accidental, it’s still there.)

If you don’t have a lot of experience with incest in other fiction (for example: the staple gothic horror), incest usually represents deviance. That’s just what it says on the tin: diverting from norms. Usually in a bad way. Deviance can be narratively treated as bad or wrong, and there is plenty of deviance from our meta societal norms with these two, but I digress. I don’t want to talk about that today.

I want to talk about subversion, and the deviance that is sometimes good, actually, and the message that sometimes you must break norms to do good.

[PS guys if you read all this and want to add your thoughts please do! This is kind of half-baked and I’d love to see more opinions because I’ve not seen anyone talk about this much.]

They are so fucking fascinating, because they are deviant! They are! Their entire relationship is baffling politically because of the Finwëan house feuds. More importantly, they have individual deviances that this relationship is telling you to pick up on.

.

Maedhros is a Kinslayer. Maedhros is also arguably the most heroic one of his siblings.

.

No, we can’t burn the ships. How the fuck are we gonna get Fingon over here?

No, I have to go parley with Morgoth.

I have to abdicate the crown because I’m becoming something I don’t want to be.

No, I have to put myself in front of everyone else. I have to hold Himring so the rest of Beleriand doesn’t get nuked.

I have to summon everyone for the Nirnaeth.

.

And then after Fingon dies in the Nirnaeth, Maedhros (as we all know) goes fully off the rails—which is to say, he becomes fully Fëanorian. He goes back to the norm for his family.

There are more Kinslayings. He tries once to save two twin children, and that’s it. He gives up. There is no more hope. Maglor is responsible for taking in the next set. Maglor also wants to beg the Valar for forgiveness, and maybe Maedhros would’ve seen the sense in that once, but instead he becomes the second coming of his father and dies burning, clutching onto his Oath.

The deviance from Fëanorian standards was the only thing keeping him from becoming a monster for all that time.

.

Fingon is also (very likely) a Kinslayer. He’s also the family extrovert and hope incarnate.

Unlike Aredhel and Turgon, he does not seclude himself for his own protection. He does the opposite.

.

No, we can’t just stay here in Aman. We need to protect the other half of our people??

No, we actually have to get Maedhros. Fine, I’ll do it myself then. I’ll reach out to the gods while I’m at it, since none of you will.

Of course we’re going to join every battle. Of course we’re going to help hold down Beleriand.

If I have to face evil alone I suppose I will, then.

.

And he dies when he’s alone against those Balrogs. Fingon is also like his father in many ways—but in some ways he is not. He is brighter, sometimes. He is hope incarnate in the worst of places.

.

I’m far from the first person to acknowledge that what Maedhros and Fingon have going on is a very strong message to never give up hope. But like—not just that. What kills me is that, you know, the hope and the heroism and the goodness is the deviance.

They like each other while most of the Noldor are off getting doomed or fighting with their relatives. You get to those little bits where it mentions Maedhros and Fingon still keeping up their friendship and you kind of have to think “damn, at least some people still genuinely love each other in the midst of all this horror.” It’s sweet. And yet it’s deviant.

And that’s weird, right? Usually deviance is bad. But I think here it’s more neutral. Just presented as: this is not the common option, not the norm. It’s not the common option, but it leads to one of the kinder relationships in the Silm.

The Silm wants you, the reader, to take away that you should have hope and goodness, even when everything around you is hell. Even when it is the hard option. When it becomes hardest to hold up light and help others, that is when it’s needed most.

It will be scary sometimes to be hopeful, and that’s okay. It will be scary to extend yourself. It will be scary to trust and to defend others. That’s okay. Do it fucking scared and keep doing it.

[biscutpoo]

I'm sorry. What the AFTG is this?????????

[razzek]

One thing that's starting to really get to me with the James Somerton stuff is a real strong undercurrent of disdain toward his fans. And yeah, I was one of them. A good scam artist isn't as easy to spot as y'all seem to think. You forget that you have all the information right now. Two days ago most of you had never heard of him and it would have kept going. Anyone can fall for a scam, nobody is immune. I would love to have had whatever resources you guys think we all should magically know about so I could have kept my sad $5 a month I really needed but thought was going to something worthwhile. Some of us can only devote so much energy into things and when you have no idea whatsoever that something is amiss of course you're not going to go digging for sources, why would you when everything is fine as far as you know? I really wish I could have seen the dissenting opinions on him but for many, many reasons that aren't just that the dissenting voices weren't widely circulating at the time all I had was the thought every now and again that "huh that doesn't seem right" and then go on with my day. And I think that happened to a lot of us. So yeah. Say what you gotta say about Somerton, he has more than earned it with the damage he's caused, but maybe don't shit so hard on his former fans because that is going to be you someday with something, it happens to everyone sooner or later.

[waitineedaname]

thinking about ed leading a relatively mundane life post-canon while still having all the connections he made during his time as a state alchemist is very funny to me, especially when thinking about his kids' perspectives. several high ranking military officials send them birthday gifts every year. they know four different guys who can turn into animals and this is mostly just a party trick for them. the emperor of xing is a family friend. they go to school and learn about the state alchemists and hear about the youngest state alchemist ever edward elric and they're like "you mean our fucking dad? our loser dad who can't do alchemy and consistently hits his thumb when using a hammer and has a rivalry with our pet chicken? you mean that edward elric?"

[bunnyreaper]

johnny has noticed you've been growing distant, so he asks ghost to help him out.

(18+/mdni, dubcon/noncon, toxic behaviour, manipulation, infidelity)

johnny wasn't sure the first time he noticed it, but recently something had changed. where before you used to react to his smothering with clinginess of your own, lately, you've started to withdraw. you squirm free from his tight hugs, make excuses not to have sex, you don't tell him how you're feeling anymore.

he knows he's losing you, knows you're slipping right out of his grasp and he doesn't know what to do to stop it. at first he tried to hold on stronger--would make more excuses to be around you, but it never worked.

ghost is at his wits end watching johnny climb the walls--with his actions growing more reckless, his temper flaring up so easily. its ghost who offers his help, expecting johnny to invite him out for a pint and a chat.

what johnny asks floors him, what floors ghost more is that he accepts.

it was almost too easy, johnny knew all your usernames, knew the communities you liked to frequent. ghost just slipped into one like he'd been there the whole time, an anonymous face following you and sharing your interests. a few comments here, some likes there--and you were so nice, so willing to make friends. it was easy for ghost, or his fake persona, to work his way into your dms and your confidence.

late nights texting until the early hours, all while you slipped further and further away from johnny.

ghost coaxed so many things out of you, cute selfies, stories about your life, conversations about your boyfriend.

and that whole time, ghost was your shoulder to cry on, ever so slightly pushing your boundaries at johnny's request, while you desperately try to stay loyal. he was always there to listen when you and johnny had a fight over god knows what, and he was always so balanced, trying to get you to see your boyfriends side, trying to get you to concede how your boyfriend was doing these things because he just cared so much.

your new friend confused the fuck out of you. on one hand, they seemed interested in you, some comments that could be misinterpreted as flirting, and they always gave their undivided attention, and yet they always played at being johnny's advocate. maybe you wanted to read too much into it, maybe you wanted them to want you because you wanted them--the distance between you and johnny having become too much.

you tried to flirt back, tried to get to know the stranger more, and he always gave you just enough to keep you hooked, but not enough to make you cross any real lines. johnny seemed to have long given up on making things work, having withdrawn himself. when the guilt and the loneliness overcomes you, you wonder how you can rebuild things with him, how you can back to where you were, but it all seems so futile.

you missed the way you used to feel with him, how certain you felt of everything--but these days none of it made sense anymore.

the breakdown comes swiftly, you're gently and unknowingly coaxed to it by your online friend, while johnny waits to sweep in and pick up all the pieces. you find yourself crying and begging for your new friend to meet you, to give you just a bit of light in such a confusing time.

he gives you the name of a hotel, a time and date, and a glimmer of hope for the first time in a long time. you find yourself slipping into a nice dress, some makeup--putting in effort so your new friend doesn't think you're a mess. that's what you tell yourself.

you're a nervous wreck as you make your way to the room number he gave, the door ajar when you arrive, coaxing you to step inside. this is it, the moment of no return, where you step away from johnny and step toward him.

imagine your surprise when you step into the room to see ghost waiting there, sitting on the bed.

"fuck, simon?! don't tell johnny, please." you beg and plead, panic coursing through you.

ghost just smirks behind his mask, leans back casually.

"don't tell johnny what, bonnie?" you feel his sickening touch on your skin, the feeling of him slipping behind you, you smell his familiar cologne. "tell me that you were coming here to get fucked by somebody that isn't me?"

he snarls, hand wrapping around your neck as you try to explain yourself.

"well ghost, she came here to get fucked. what d'ya say we give my girl what she really wanted?"

[thisdorkyblogthing]

In my frantic reblog fest last week I was suddenly struck by The Inspiration upon seeing this post again. The brain works in mysterious ways. Shout out to @midnottart for providing such gorgeous Brain FuelTM.

~2,400 words. Loki's real real bad at assassinating, thank god he's hot.

-

It was comfortable here, slipping through the shadows. Loki was a shadow. He crept along the edges, quieter than a mouse, tip-toed past sleepy guards. This was easy. Automatic. He'd been training for this for as long as he could stand on his own feet. He stayed quiet and sowed chaos where no one would spot him. It wasn't like the first time he came to the palace, dressed up like some rich asshole and walking through the front doors where he would be seen. He'd gone against his orders and tucked himself along the walls where it felt safest. He'd been instructed to mingle a little -- not too much, just enough to blend in, to look normal -- but he couldn't. He wasn't made to giggle at inane jokes and flirt with those he wished were dead. So he did what he knew best and stuck to the edges, listening and watching, eyeing all the potential entry and exit points, all the small, ignored spots that he could slip into and hide.

He hadn't planned for the king to be the one to spot him.

The artwork littered throughout the kingdom hadn't done the man justice, much to Loki's chagrin. No artist had been able to truly capture the light that shone behind his sky blue eyes, the richness to the golden hue of his skin and hair. They hadn't even attempted to capture his smile with all it's disarming warmth. They had opted for a menacing glower fit for the accomplished warrior that he was.

Loki would tell the others that he had changed his strategy once he'd grabbed the king's attention, seducing him to gain his trust and get entry to the most vulnerable areas of the palace, but the sad, sickening truth of it was that Loki had been the one to get seduced. The anger that had been instilled in him since birth had dissolved into a quivering lump of nothing once the king laid his lust-filled gaze on him. The heavy hand on his waist turning his rigid spine soft, his mind pliable to the suggestions whispered into his ear by a deep, husky voice.

He'd been ravished in ways he'd only entertained on his most lonely nights, pleasured so thoroughly that even as he snuck through the tight, near forgotten corridors of the palace he needed to pause for a moment and fight back the memories of it, his stomach clenching with want.

The shame of it made bile rise up the back of his throat. If anyone knew- he shook away the thought. No one would ever know. He'd do what he was meant to do. He'd kill the king and pave the way for his father to take the throne. And then his life would be his own, finally. That night would be a distant memory.

A pleasant, distant memory.

He found his way to the king's bedroom, taking his time to ensure no one would hear or see a glimpse of him. He'd take his freshly sharpened dagger and slash the king's throat as he slept, escaping just as quietly as he came, and no one would know until the king was long dead. Loki could envision it. The blood pooled around him like a sickening halo, the light dimmed from his pretty eyes. Assuming he would open his eyes at all.

All the doors were large and heavy, the ones that came directly between the king and everyone else even more so. Loki pushed it open slowly, just enough to squeeze through. The king's bedroom was as luxurious as Loki remembered, the heavy, detailed tapestries that lined the walls making the room feel more quiet and cozy than most of the others he'd seen. The fire pit in the center of the room still held glowing embers that dampened the chill from the air that poured through the broad, open archways that lead out to a balcony.

And at the other end of the room was the king. Thor. Naked save for a crumpled sheet wrapped around his waist and sprawled across the massive, soft mattress.

His traitorous mind conjured the memory of being laid down on it, the silkiness of sheets against his skin, how breathless he'd gotten as Thor loomed over him. His throat dried and he tried to shake it from his mind, taking a quick breath to refocus. He wore soft soled shoes to move silently over the tiled floor, making his way across the large room until he was just feet from the bed. He grabbed the handle of his dagger strapped to his thigh, pulling it free from it's sheath.

Another breath and then he climbed carefully onto the bed.

His muscles trembled with each slow movement, heart hammering like a drum in his ears. This was the moment his entire life had been building up to. His purpose for existing. The king was still, his chest rising and lowering in a slow, steady pace. His gloves were damp with sweat, his fingers cold and numb. He carefully straddled the king's hips, fighting back memory of the weight of his hands on Loki's hips.

He clenched his jaw tight and shook his head. Get it done quick and get out.

He leaned forward, pointing the blade at Thor's exposed throat. He studied the king's face, the fine lines and scars etched onto his skin, the dark lashes that fanned out over the delicate skin under his eyes, his coarse, golden beard, and the soft, pink lips peeking out from under it. Loki leaned in further, pressing the tip of the dagger under his chin as his eyes fluttered shut. He let himself come dangerously close, his lips brushing against Thor's. A tiny final indulgence, he told himself.

He lingered, their noses bumping as he thoughtlessly repeated the movement.

He froze as he felt a weight settle on to the back of his neck, lungs clenching as he cautiously opened his eyes to see that the king's face was unchanged. Eyes shut, mouth relaxed, breathing steady.

His mind screamed at him to slash at him and run, but he couldn't move. Thor tossed his other arm around Loki's waist, pulling Loki's body the rest of the way down onto his. Loki's breath left him in a shaky gasp, blood rushing through his head. The king finally opened his eyes, and Loki knew he was done. He'd so utterly failed at his one task in life, and he could only watch and wonder what would happen next.

"You know," Thor's voice rumbled, their lips still nearly touching, "if you want to assassinate someone, you shouldn't waste time kissing them first."

Loki's hand shook so violently that he nicked Thor's chin with the tip of the blade. He seemed unbothered.

"How long?" Loki eked out, unable to string together anything more coherent.

"I heard you open the door," he replied, "I would've figured you'd know I was a light sleeper, but I guess Laufey forgot to mention that."

Loki gasped, shivering in Thor's loose but unyielding hold.

Thor chuckled in a not entirely pleasant way, the arm around his waist leaving so he could pry the dagger free from Loki's clenched fist. He chucked across the room, the metal skittering across the floor.

"H-how long?" Loki whispered, barely able to suck in a full breath.

Thor began to knead the back of Loki's neck gently, his other hand slithering under his shirt to run up his spine, leaving goosebumps in it's wake.

"You have all those sharp features and that same paranoid look about you," he explained, "I knew as soon as I saw you skulking around at the ball."

Loki let his head drop to Thor's firm chest, spitting out a curse.

"You must have a pretty mother, Laufey's face looks much better on you," the king went on, fingers tangling into Loki's hair.

Loki shrugged, his voice wobbling as he replied. "I don't know, she left when I was small."

"Seems about right," Thor sighed, "there can't be much romance with a man that obsessed with power."

A sob broke free from Loki's throat, tears spilling from his tightly shut eyes. "I don't want to die."

"Hush, I'm not going to kill you," Thor said with a chuckle, "that was barely an assassination attempt."

"My father-" Loki rasped.

"Ah, him," Thor said with another sigh, "then it seems you must stay here with me then."

Loki finally lifted his head to look at Thor again. "You're going to imprison me?"

The king's mouth twisted, nose scrunching. "That's a bit of a strong word for it, but I certainly can't just let someone who would conspire against me go back to their fellow conspirators, could I?"

Loki was suddenly on his back, pressed down into the mattress by the weight of the king's body, feeling a tingle deep in his belly at the familiar position. The hand under Loki's neck kept his gaze focused on Thor's face, letting him see the heat rush to his face and color his cheeks.

"I could, perhaps, keep him under my watch, let him stay in my own bed even, especially if he tells me everything he knows about his father's plans."

Loki inhaled sharply, his mind swirling at the king's suggestion. He was dizzy, overwhelmed and exhausted all at once from the stress of the whole night.

Could he live here, with the one he'd always known as the enemy, and so thoroughly betray his father?

Loki clung to Thor's broad shoulders and tried to pull him down, too overwhelmed to even speak.

Thor dipped low, sealing his mouth to Loki's. Loki let out a muffled whimper, clawing at the king's broad, muscular back and clinging desperately to him. The hand pinned under Loki's back snaked around, pushing his shirt up higher, bunching the fabric under Loki's chin. As more of their skin touched the more frantic Loki became, the craving that had simmered within him since their night together bursting out of him with a fiery intensity. He bit down on Thor's lip and dug his nails deeper into Thor's back, his hips grinding down onto Loki in response.

Thor freed himself from the clutches of Loki's sharp teeth and lavished him with that smile that had so thoroughly ruined Loki in the first place. "I'll take that as a yes?"

Loki wanted the layers between them to vanish, huffing as he squirmed under Thor's weight. "Get inside me already," he ordered through clenched teeth, though the words sounded more petulant

Thor laughed, rolling his hips as he dipped his head to plant soft, fluttering kisses along his jaw. "Patience, my eager little magpie, you know I will satisfy you."

Loki whined, writhing hopelessly as Thor took his time running his hand over Loki's body. He slid down to Loki's exposed chest, lips and tongue finding their way to one of Loki's nipples, teasing at the sensitive flesh with the lightest pinch of his teeth. Loki's cock throbbed, a pitiful cry escaping from his throat.

Thor had just moved to the other nipple when the sound of heavy footfalls forced Thor to pull away. Loki's pounding heart leapt to his throat, desire somewhat forgotten as a handful of guards charged into the bedroom.

"Your Majesty," the guard leading the group said, breathless, "we believe someone might have entered the palace." His eyes fell on to Loki, lingering briefly before moving back to Thor.

Thor pushed himself up, hopping down from the bed without bothering to take the sheet along with him or making any effort to cover himself at all.

"You think someone might've snuck in?" he hissed, irritation clear in the expression he wore. He gestured to Loki, still sprawled out with his shirt hiked up his chest, his face hot with arousal and shame as their eyes nervously fell on to him.

"If he'd been more competent you'd be finding my corpse right now," Thor said tersely. The guards all moved at once towards him, sending Loki crawling up the bed while his heart fluttered with terror.

"Stand down, idiots," he barked, "I have him handled."

"My maids have thwarted more assassinations than you fools," Thor went on as he paced along the side of the bed, "you should be the ones scrubbing the floors, but I'm sure you'd manage to screw that up too."

The guards averted their gazes as Thor ranted, while Loki pulled his shirt back into place and drew his knees to his chest, feeling the need to look away from Thor too.

"You're all dismissed from duty, and I'm firing whoever trained you in the morning." Thor huffed, glaring when The guards hadn't made a move in the tense seconds that followed. "I said GO-"

With the clatter of armor and boots, the now-former guards all rushed to leave the bedroom, leaving the door open wide in their wake. Thor stood and watched, waiting until their footfalls became distant before turning back to Loki. He was still wound tight around himself, exhaustion at war with anxiety. Thor's face softened, looking out towards the balcony, the deep blue of night sky tinged lavender at the far-off horizon.

"We still have some time before the sun comes out," Thor said, "let's get some sleep and we can discuss things in the morning."

Part of Loki still burned with need to finish what they had started, but a larger part of him cried out for rest- and he knew for a fact that a few hours of sleep on the king's bed would feel more rejuvenating than a full night on that miserable little cot back home. Loki nodded, and with gentle hands Thor unwound Loki's arms from around his legs. He pulled Loki over to the edge of the bed, guiding him to his feet, and undressed him with a tenderness that once again sent Loki's heart fluttering. His knees trembled as his skin was exposed to the cool air and Thor's piercing gaze.

When he was stripped down to nothing and their eyes met, Thor leveled him with a small, warm smile, his hand coming up to clasp the back of Loki's neck. The heat and roughness of his palm made Loki's spine quiver with pleasure. A whine rose from his throat, eyelashes fluttering as arousal once more surged through him.

Thor chuckled, "isn't this more fun than stabbing me?"

[whatsjulietslastname]

Okay so listen to me.

On one hand we have Max Caulfield. Who, out of self-hatred, a low self-esteem, and a deep belief that she is Not Interesting and Not Great and Not Deserving of being put in a position where she has anybody’s attention on her and is being listened to, avoids doing things somebody who loves themself 1% more than she does would do because she doesn’t think she’s worth it— even when these things she’s not doing would admittedly make her happier. She doesn’t want to put in the effort of being seen to achieve said things because 1. she doesn’t think she’s deserving of being seen / interesting enough for people to see anything anyway and 2. she’s so convinced it would lead to nothing at all that she thinks it would be useless to try. She disregards her own happiness for the sake of what she believes is her safety.

On the other hand completely we have Rachel Amber, who firmly thinks she has Something to say and will not shut up about it. She knows her life will be bigger than what she has in the current moment, so she constantly puts herself out there, not caring what that implies ever, because whatever happens in the now is temporary and there will be more. She doesn’t have the time to wonder if she should be more careful in the ways she interacts with the world because she knows (or at least thinks she knows) that if she does it’ll never be enough and she needs to be heard already. (Which is essentially what leads her to her death.) She disregards her own safety for what she believes is her happiness.

idk i just think it’s neat

[can-of-slorgs]

Completed the Shenkuu Stamp collection some time ago, so it was only fair to draw my girl Mirsha

[karkatbug]

Looks like mumbling his thoughts out loud finally benefited Dave

Day 7 of @davekatweek: Fluff

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[Thanks for reading! Hopefully Dave wins Karkat a cute plushy or something on their first date.]