#it wasn’t intentional

[shutupineedtothink]

More Moiraine & Lan (and the Bond) thoughts, because I really just can’t help myself.

Just thinking about how we know every Aes Sedai and Warder share the Bond, but we don’t see any other AS/Warder teams using it as a form of communication NEARLY as much as Moiraine and Lan do.

Like these mofos are having full conversations with head tilts and tiny eyebrow raises and 3 seconds of eye contact from the jump. Sometimes not even looking at each other. And it’s extra great if you’re a show only like me because you only realize it when you go back later after all the stuff with the Bond is explained in 1x04/1x05. Like I remember thinking when I was first watching the pilot ‘wow, these two are really in sync, clearly they’ve known each other a long time,’ but it’s so much more than that obviously.

Now, one easy explanation for this is that we’re just seeing them the most, they’re main characters, and s1 especially does a lot of work hyping up the Bond and how important it is so that we get the full impact of them being cut off later. Makes sense.

But… idk like even Alanna and Ihvon and Maksim, who are actually in a romantic relationship, don’t seem to prefer the Bond as a way to communicate. We even see them have their little diplomatic discussion before Ihvon goes to follow Tomas. It’s an actual conversation. Maksim even prefers the Bond masked, so I guess in that way they kind of have to talk to each other.

Verin and Tomas are pretty quiet in general, but still it’s not emphasized that they use the Bond to communicate that much. Perhaps this is also highlighted by Tomas’s advice to Lan that the Bond isn’t the only common language they share with their Aes Sedai.

Except for Moiraine and Lan, it’s like AT LEAST 80%. It’s the primary way they communicate. Because 1. they’re both so naturally reserved on the outside (but feel very deeply on the inside), and 2. I imagine it comes in handy to be extra good at it when you’re on the road searching for the Dragon Reborn and you don’t want everyone around you to know what you’re about.

Then there’s Stepin’s comment from s1 to Kerene, “Can you imagine their dinners?” Which is funny but also very telling. To all the other Aes Sedai and Warders, Moiraine and Lan seem pretty cold and distant, to everyone else and each other. But again, that’s by design to protect their mission. They’re just having conversations no one else can see, even other Bonded pairs. It’s like most AS and their Warders use the Bond as insurance, a fail safe even, to understand and communicate with each other, with normal human communication (i.e. TALKING) as the primary method. But for Moiraine and Lan it’s the other way around.

My POINT BEING, that this adds weight to their storyline in S2. Like they are REALLY struggling because on top of everything else, this fundamental piece of their relationship and communication is just gone. And it opens a door for Moiraine to push Lan away, when she NEVER would have been able to before, practically or emotionally. And he reels from her attacks because he’s just not as good at understanding her without the Bond, when he would have seen right through that shit before, just from feeling alone. So Tomas can say to him, you need to really listen, but 20 years of shared emotional mind reading is not that easy to bypass. You don’t learn normal person communication skills overnight. Certainly not when there’s this gaping hole in your head/heart where another person you probably knew better than yourself should be but isn’t.

Anyway, I think it just adds even more credence to why they’re both so lost throughout most of S2, especially Lan. And what makes them so badass with the Bond but so absolutely uncoordinated without it. And why every other Aes Sedai/Warder thinks they’re fuckin weird. And why we love them, because who doesn’t want to be so fundamentally understood like that? Who doesn’t want their own secret language with someone that no one else really gets, but that person gets you on a level so real it can’t be replaced? That’s what we’re all reaching for, and that’s what they have with each other. For better or worse.

[anessthetic]

C̸R̸I̸M̶I̶N̴A̴L̴ ̶C̶R̶I̷M̵I̶N̵A̵L̸ ̵C̷R̵I̸M̸I̵N̷A̵L̶ ̶C̴R̵I̵M̷I̵N̷A̷L̵

tried into dave miller design!!

[bubblybloob]

Bloob is pronounced like boob but with and l in it.

[bloomxsky]

Here is the redesign for Harmonix for the rest of winx. Also I’m opting to get rid of the wings. Their in water, they don’t need wings.

⬆️ This is Stella

⬆️ This is Flora

⬆️ This is Aisha

⬆️ This is Musa

⬆️ This is Tecna

[deluxewhump]

How is Matteo feeling aboard the pirate ship? 👀

Matteo is trying to figure out this young leader guy, and figure out how far his leverage of being nobility will take him. He doesn’t realize how badly Therrin wants him back or that Saxon is with Therrin now. I think he’s being very brave but it will have taken a physical and emotional toll that I think we will see if Saxon and Therrin can get him back…. 😌

[pinkelotjeart]

Trick or treat!!! I am clearly a Real Human Man! Not at all 3 Bearded Dragons in a trench coat! Please give me All Your Crickets please.

There’s probably some crickets in the back garden

[lyda3]

i miss ross lynch

[call-me-maggie13]

The night is turbulent and pitch dark. If she had been outside, she wouldn’t be able to see her hand pressed to her nose through the storm. The creaking from the trees could be heard through the rattling window Shannon is staring out of with wide eyes.

The first flash of lightning lit up the trees, followed quickly by another flash and a booming crash of thunder that knocks the air from Beatrice’s lungs. A series of quick strikes of lightning make the trees move like a stop motion video nauseatingly fast. The wind roars heavily and Beatrice is reminded of the story of the wolf and three pigs.

Thunder sounds like gunshots in the tiny room, Beatrice’s back pressed to the wall furthest from the window when the hair on her arms raised with the electricity filling the room.

"Come on, Shannon. You know the drill." Rich is eerily calm, completely unperturbed when he pulls Shannon away from the thin, shivering glass. "Beatrice, go grab a pillow and a blanket, we’re sleeping in the basement tonight."

Basement?

She doesn’t move, her heart racing faster than the wind outside. Rich takes a deep breath and crouches in front of her, offers his hands for her to latch on to.

"You’re safe, Beatrice. The storm is outside, it’s not going to hurt you," he explains softly, kindly. "If you want, I’ll walk you to the basement then grab your pillow and blanket myself?"

If we’re safe, why are we moving to the basement?

She can’t find her voice to ask.

He helps her from the ground slowly, hovers his hand above her shoulder for a long while before setting it softly to guide her to the basement. Martha is setting up candles and an electric lantern around the dank room, the single bulb swinging above her head flickering. There are sleeping bags already laid out and Beatrice carefully steps around them to reach an overturned milk crate with a seating pillow thrown over it.

"I’ll be right back, right? You’re safe here, it’s just a storm."

It doesn’t feel like just a storm. It feels like God’s wrath tearing the world apart, like He’s punishing her for not saying her prayers or going to mass.

Rich has one foot on the bottom step when Shannon tumbles through the doorway, slips halfway through her race down the steps and crashes into him.

"I got you stuff, Bea." She holds out a crumpled blanket and pillow for Beatrice to take. "Oh and this!"

It’s HoHo. His soft fur ragged and tattered, his ears rubbed of all their pink and tail hastily reattached. Shannon’s dressed him in a tiny red bucket hat and blue parka.

Beatrice’s ears burn but she tucks him against her stomach and squeezes tightly around him.

He was the first thing she’d packed when she was being sent away, tucked him into the bottom of her bag and buried him under clothes and other trinkets. He’d been in much better shape then, she hadn’t been allowed to play with him, let alone sleep with him until she’d arrived here.

It’s hard to believe she’s been here long enough to lose his tail, to amass so much damage on his tiny body that he’s nearly unrecognizable to his original form.

"You dressed him?"

"All I had were the clothes from my Paddington, I hope it’s okay?" Shannon drops her pillow on a bright blue sleeping bag and Beatrice’s on a pale yellow one.

"Why?"

"Well, we gotta keep him warm and dry, right?" Beatrice, despite the treacherous storm raging outside and the overhead light blinking on and off with the flickering power, has never felt more safe than she does in this moment.

He’s just a tattered toy. A monkey who’s once soft fur has been loved ragged. He doesn’t get cold and he never feels wet. Why would it matter if he was scared of the storm?

He couldn’t be scared. He’s fake.

Why does Shannon treat him like his fear is real and palpable and worthy of being comforted away?

Shannon tilts her head at her, eyes squinting beneath stitched brows.

"But he - he’s just a toy?" Jasper tries to shove his nose between this plush and her hand, tail wagging when she drops her palm against his head.

"Yeah and you’re just a girl and Jasper is just a dog." She rolls her eyes and Jasper trots to her side when he hears his name, jumps against her legs until she sits and allows him to climb into her lap.

Beatrice doesn’t understand.

Jasper is alive. He’s real and breathing and annoyingly cute and, despite her previous disdain for animals, she finds she quite adores him.

And she - she’s alive too. As much as she doesn’t understand why, her heart still beats and her lungs still expand and contract. She’s real.

HoHo, he’s just a toy. Just cloth and stuffing and a beaded nose.

Beatrice feels like she has a cosmic misunderstanding of the world, where Shannon can amount a toy to being equivalent to her life.

Above her head, there’s a crash of thunder loud enough that the entire house jumps under the force of it and the lights go out. Her ears are ringing from the sudden silence, the flickering candlelight the only motion in the room.

"Alrighty, looks like Zeus said it’s bedtime." Rich winks at them and grins, motions Beatrice to join them on their circle of sleeping bags while Shannon digs through a cardboard box and pulls out board games.

She drops Monopoly into the empty space between them and her dad cackles before moving it behind him. She follows up with Uno and Beatrice is nearly certain by the way Martha’s face scrunches that she’s only chosen it for the reaction. Lastly, she carefully sets down a Scrabble board before retaking her place across from Beatrice, on either side of Rich and Martha.

"Do you know how to play, Beatrice?" Martha turns to her while Rich and Shannon start to set it up, passing out tiles and their holders. When she admits she doesn’t, Martha begins explaining the rules carefully.

"It’s a word game. Whoever knows the most words wins." Shannon shrugs when Rich tells her that’s not entirely true. "Either way, you’re probably going to win. You’re like a walking dictionary-thesaurus."

Shannon plays CART which Martha builds into CARTON.

"It’s like a crossword? I can add on to the word or build off a letter?" Shannon nods and Beatrice stares at her tiles. KRKAPOH.

She shuffles them around before staring intently at the bird and building PAKORAS off Shannon’s R.

"That’s not a real word." Shannon interjects immediately. Beatrice starts to scrape her tiles away when Rich stills her hands.

"What’s it mean?"

"It’s a popular Indian dish of deep fried vegetables or meat. It’s derived from the Hindi word pakorā which denotes a dish of vege- "

"Thank you, Beatrice. It counts, Shannon." Rich interrupts, sliding Beatrice’s tiles back into place while Shannon pouts.

Beatrice stands down, content to allow Shannon to win until Shannon puts down BLAND. Beatrice simply can’t resist herself when she builds BLANDISHMENT onto it.

"I know that’s a fake word! You’re lying!" Shannon jumps up and points at Beatrice accusatorially.

"Beatrice?" Martha straightens the letters Shannon has knocked askew.

"Blandishment is a noun and is something said or done in order to coax or persuade an individual or group to do something. It’s commonly used in the plural blandishments because people rarely - "

"Oh, you’re making things up! Dad!" Rich shrugs when Shannon stomps her foot and stares at him.

"Sorry, kiddo. You’re going to have to take that up with Sir Oxford." He points to the blue dictionary on the shelf behind Shannon’s head. She grabs it roughly and begins flipping through it, stopping then flipping back only to repeat the opposing action again.

"Do you want me to find it?" Beatrice reaches for the dictionary and Shannon snatches it away.

"I know how to read. I’ll find it."

"You need to go the other way. You went too far."

"I know that." She sticks her tongue out then flips the other way in the book.

"You went too far. Other way."

"I know how to read, Beatrice." She follows Beatrice’s direction regardless, flipping carefully over the next few pages before Beatrice slams her hand onto a page and points at a word.

Blandishment (noun)

/ˈblændɪʃmənt/

• a pleasant thing that you say to somebody or do for them to try to persuade them to do something

Shannon kicks her foot out and sends the board flying, letter tiles turned projectiles scattering around the room when she groans.

"I quit! She’s cheating!"

"It’s not cheating if she’s using real words."

"It is if she’s cheating!" Beatrice scoots back and bites the inside of her cheek. She wants to apologize so terribly it tears her throat and burns behind her teeth but she can’t catch her breath enough to speak.

"Shannon, that’s enough." Martha is firm but her hand on Beatrice’s shoulder is soft. "You’ve done nothing wrong, Beatrice. Shannon’s a terrible loser who seems to have forgotten herself."

Shannon’s rebuttal is interrupted by an explosive crack of thunder that makes the bulb above their heads flash bright before popping and shattering onto them. The candles cast eerie, creeping shadows from them, crawling up the walls in search of a lightless corner to haunt.

Beatrice doesn’t breathe.

"Oh! Can I tell a ghost story?" Shannon bounces and the nylon sack swishing beneath her when she wiggles.

Beatrice doesn’t respond when Shannon reaches for the flashlight she’s suddenly holding, flipping it on and holding it beneath her chin to cast unnatural shadows across her face.

Beatrice doesn’t believe in ghosts. She’s ten years old. She’s not some silly baby that’s scared of the dark and thunderstorms and scary stories. Beatrice’s heart is certainly not beating so hard that the room beats with it. Her chest is certainly not aching like all of the air has been sucked from the room. Her ears are certainly not ringing so loud she worries everyone else can hear it.

"Or, and just hear me out before you say no, but we could just tell regular stories. The non-scary kind?" Rich doesn’t need to look at Beatrice for her to know he’s seen her falling apart silently. He knows she’s scared, and that’s arguably worse than the fear itself.

"I like scary stories. We can do scary stories." When did she become a prevaricator? When did she start spreading truthless information about herself?

"What if I don’t like scary stories?" Rich narrows his eyes but he’s still smiling softly, the juxtaposition makes Beatrice’s ears ring louder, like a whistle in a tornado.

Shannon gives her a weird look, face scrunched up and frowning.

"Are you good? You look funny."

"You look funny." If Beatrice had punctuated her sentence by sticking out her tongue, perhaps the statement would’ve been overlooked. Instead, she paired it with deep red cheeks and a conspicuous quiver in her voice that drew all eyes to her.

"Wait. Are you scared?" Shannon, despite her tremendous efforts, giggles at the realization. "It’s just a storm, dude. It’s outside, we’re not. It’s above ground, we’re inside the earth. It’s fine."

"Shannon, don’t belittle her." Martha fixes her with a glare before turning to Beatrice. "I understand how scary the storms can be, but we’re safe down here. No matter what’s happening above our heads, we’re alright."

Beatrice pulls her legs to her chest when she tries to pay her knee.

"I am not scared of a storm. I’m fine." She shakes her head and pulls away, pushes herself backward until she’s pressed against the wall. "I think I’m going to sleep instead. I’m tired."

"All the way over there?" She’s barely a fathom away from Shannon, she doesn’t know why she’s acting like they’re halfway across the globe. She rolls her eyes when Beatrice nods. "Alright, suit yourself. Night, Beatrice."

Beatrice hates when she does that. Everyone calls her Beatrice. Everyone except Shannon. She’s Bea. To Shannon, she’s always been Bea. Not Beatrice.

She doesn’t want to be Beatrice. She wants to stay Bea.

She clenches her jaw, curls onto her side with her back to them, squeezes HoHo to her chest and tries to fall asleep. She tries counting sheep, repeating the Fibonacci sequence as high as she can count, listing all the species of insect she can remember, alphabetizing everything she can see and hear, visualizing a comfortable room in the mountains somewhere, adjusting then readjusting then re-readjusting her position.

Shannon must fall asleep at some point. Beatrice can’t say it every truly gets quiet, but Shannon certainly stops talking and her silence echoes loud in Beatrice’s ears.

"Beatrice?" Rich’s voice is soft and kind, barely louder than the storm above them. Beatrice pretends she’s asleep. "I know Shannon was teasing you about it but I want you to know it’s okay to be a little scared of the storm. I’m scared too. But we would never let anything happen to you, right? You’re safe here."

Beatrice doesn’t answer. She’s not certain what she would say if she even attempted to. But maybe.

Maybe she believes him. Just the littlest bit.

Find more here!

[milf0bsessi0n]

my easter egg has a smiley face and a heart 🥺

[aquatic-bees]

Opened up my drawing app because I realized I haven’t drawn anything in ages and ended up with a design for a dress. It’s not anything spectacular but I think it looks nice enough to share.

[lyranova]

That moment you announced something you had just planned, and suddenly as your writing it and are fully fleshing it out, the chapters suddenly change and so does the title and you’re just like:

[aot-fan-fic]

I channeled my inner Sasha today and brought a single baked potato to work for lunch.

[albino-whumpee]

Tw self harm

I’ve been testing knives sharpness for reasons, so it’s kinda of habit to like try and give me a little cut with the one I find (more often than not I will not get cut cause knives aren’t that sharp most of the time and I know how to handle my strength) but today I tested one in front of my mom and surprise, it was actually quite sharp. So much so it took a second to notice I got cut.

My mom was like “of course you were gonna get cut! who in their right mind would do that?!”

And I was like “haha, yeah. Who in their right mind?”

[baristabomb]

...weird amount of dunmeshi fans have been saying being a caretaker in a relationship is the worst thing ever..marcille must want to killl everyone soo bad because doing things for people suuuucks sooo muchh

it's an act of love, not just a job i promise. we all want someone who's willing to take care of us in some way, just like how senshi shows care for others by cooking for them :'|

[falklore]

Good morning, I just realised that today I am dressed as Elena Gilbert 😔

[aliteralchicken]

throwback to the time I accidentally reinvented death in the family

‘this is a set do not separate’ well im actually prying them apart with a crowbar sorry