#like get a bloody life

[playingonedchess]

urgh why is it still so hot

[obsob]

once more around the sun!! :3

[thelostgirl21]

One thing I really want to see happen in Season 4...

Valdo Marx: Nice to see you again, Joseph!

Jaskier: *Heavy sigh* That's -

Yarpen: *Stepping in front of him protectively.* Julian Alfred Pankratz to you, you dying sounding beached whale! Only his friends call him Joseph!

Jaskier: Ah, actually, that's Jaskier.

Yarpen: *Dismissively.* Yeah, I KNOW.

Jaskier: *Getting all teary eyed.* I know you do.

[natjennie]

i want to explain my mental illnesses to robin and have him like nod and grunt along while i talk and then hum really sagely and give some beautiful touching life advice like "brain not bad just.. different. I've seen a lot of people. we all different. world would be big boring if everyone was the same. you just better at some things and worse at other things. that why we all work together, help each other. sometimes you fight mammoth and sometimes you stay in cave with babies. it all come out in the wash."

[pricetagged]

I really want to write a poly 141 au loosely based on 'Ready or Not', but I don't know if I have the time (or ability).

I'm picturing reader marrying one of the boys, either Gaz or Soap. Either of them could be charming, winning you over, just a little vein of that too-bright intensity thrumming under the handsome face and sweet words.

Whoever it is (leaning towards Gaz), they bring you to meet the rest of the lads. 'Just a little ritual we have,' he'd reassure you. 'Just meet the squad, play some games, get to know each other.' You mean so much to him! And they do too, so naturally you should meet.

You'd have dinner together, a little awkward as the big guy in the mask just wouldn't stop staring. Wouldn't stop making comments that err just the wrong side of unsettling. Johnny, too. He'd be overly familiar, shockingly handsy, but your husband just wouldn't react. Instead, he'd lean back in his chair, fingers stroking yours as he did little more than watch. And the Captain... You'd feel weighed and stripped under his gaze. You came hoping for their blessing, hoping to please Kyle, but the approval in John's eyes would glint with something hungry.

Your shaking hands would pluck the 'hide and seek' card from the box, and Kyle would coo false comforts in your ear while the others at the table perked up. Bloodhounds catching a scent. You just have to make it through the night, that's all. There are lots of places to hide around the cabin, in the forest. They'd even give you a head start!

Of course, you don't stand much of a chance. You'd hold out surprisingly long, and there'd be a few near-misses. But eventually, your luck would run out...

I'm not sure how to go about it, how to show the violence (since obviously reader survives! But i kind of want a slasher vibe too?). And once they catch you, the real fun begins 👀🖤 (obvs this is going to be dark).

___________________________________

Anyway, I'm swamped with finishing other fics on my list. Don't know if/when I'll get around to this.

[stillprettyunoriginal]

Names are so vital. So important and held to who a person is and gods Claude who has known Jericho through being far closer to Simon than himself now; through Jericho and the taking of his FACE through having to take in the mind of bloody fucking Martin. If names bring power, what sort of humanity does it draw out of a person when they’ve seen you try on a good couple. Maybe I’m just in my own head about this but truly, there are versions and layers of learning and change to the Jericho we know now, and after a certain point? If we move past his childhood? Claude has been there for nearly all of them besides the tubs. When he lost Kassie there was someone else and this one hasn’t LEFT through his learning and hasn’t died through him stumbling into the world and overall at his side. He has truly been one of the people closest to him. One of the closest you could get, at the very least, when you wear the face of a tormentor and feel your gut twisted by their own memories of their hatred of you or how you her them, and you can’t remember a world without that hurt. I’m never going to heal from these two I swear it.

(also the taking of Martin’s face is destructive to my mental health rip someone please save me it ruins me every time I remember it, n WONDER he had brother issues dude)

[im-smart-i-swear]

can you remember being born? were you born at all

[wikitpowers]

kit: no one could ever love me

ty: *literally loving every part of him* am i a joke to you?

[maingh0st]

@belabellissima's tags on this post deserve a post of their own, i—

[13reasonstoeatthatcake]

I really want to know how Lilith Sorrengail feels about trying her best to get her youngest daughter away from whatever it was that her dad supposedly found in the Archives after Brennan 'died', just to get said daughter even more involved with the tyrrish rebellion two: electric boogaloo.

[invinciblerodent]

I just learned today, after a good 700 hours in-game, that it's possible for Aradin and his crew to attack you at your camp in act 3 (through someone saying, paraphrased, that if you enjoy him as a character you must not have played act 3), and I'm honestly so bloody into this possibility now.

Like, sure, on one hand that's textbook fantasy thug behavior and I like that he has the chutzpah to do it, but also... yeah, go on and tell the person you learned was hired to capture the Nightsong maybe three hours into the game, about how the Nightsong is chilling at your camp. Truly, the man who was offered enough money for this contract to have him set for life, and who'd abandon an archdruid and some of his own crew because they got attacked can be trusted with that information.

I'm sure nothing can go wrong if you tell him, he's such an absolutely 100% trustworthy individual. Surely this man has not done anything nefarious or underhanded (such as attacking a person at their camp) in his life. You should also give him a copy of the key to your room at the Elfsong in case he wants to drop by later for tea and crumpets...??????

I know this person likely meant that this is a reason one shouldn't like him, but if anything, I honestly enjoy his character like three times more, now that I know this can happen. He's a greedy, cutthroat, an kind of stupid man who is only an adventurer because his daddy was one, and all he wants is money enough to retire.

He's barely- to moderately hinged. I'm obsessed with him now.

[poisonedfate]

thinking about the lyric “you should have raised a babygirl, i should’ve been a better son” and thinking about morgana and arthur, both separately and together, and thinking about uther and seeing something

[dirtytransmasc]

Alicent after her husband damns her children, the ones he forced onto her, the ones she carried and birthed and loved and spent her whole life protecting. after he leaves her, dying a pathetic death, leaving her and her children alone in the world, even more than he had before. after her children are robbed from her, meeting fates promised to them at birth, ones she tried so hard to change. after being left to roam an empty keep, the sounds of her children's antics now long gone. after hearing her own cries echo in the septs, but never reaching the gods, rattling the walls of her chambers, yet falling on deaf ears. Alicent after she decides she will be king, in her eldest's stead, she will weild her own sword in place of her most trusted friend and closest son, she will fill the world with her words like her daughter had, she will take revenge as she sees fit as her youngest had:

[good-beanswrites]

I can't stop thinking of Kyanako's Order of Attack au... there's something so moving to me about how things getting so much worse could be what finally causes Amane to get better -- seeing Fuuta dying may be the final straw of getting her to rethink her rejection of medicine. Been a while since I've attempted something whump-y, this was fun to work with.

Tw for mentions/contemplation of death. I don't go into detail about the cult but the doctrines are implied through it all.

Fuuta was not a big fan of dying.

When he imagined his own death, he always pictured it as something dramatic and fast. Action heroes going out in a show of explosions and gunfire. Fantasy characters meeting the shining end of a blade. Even when he accepted his place in Milgram, it filled his mind with images of gallows and electric chairs. 

Whatever this slow, lengthy fever was, it was pissing him off. 

He’d lost all sense of time. He could no longer tell which hour the prison bells were marking -- morning and night blended together. Dreaming and waking blended together. His head injury and broken leg and broken bones blended together. It was all just pain at the end of the day. He had nonstop visitors that kept him awake and asked him too many questions and prodded his injuries and made his head spin. Somehow, he was simultaneously alone every time he rolled over to talk to someone. Painfully, suffocatingly alone. 

If Kotoko was going to kill him with those ridiculous emo boots of hers, she should have just done it. He was losing his mind here: devoid of all energy, suffering through broken bones and a cracked head, and boiling in an increasingly fiery fever. Maybe that was the reason he stopped commenting when he watched Amane pocket the medicine Shidou had left him. Maybe that was why he’d stopped following Shidou’s instructions himself. Even after losing an eye and taking a beating herself, Amane always looked at peace. He was tired of dealing with all of this. He wanted a bit of that peace.

Regardless of why, it was working. His fever had quickly gone from the biggest pain in his ass to the very thing that dulled his racing thoughts. 

He awoke suddenly, or maybe he’d already been awake. He couldn’t feel anything in his limbs. There was only a breathless heat around him. He raised himself into a sitting position, looking for a drink. Moving his head felt like one of those glitching computer windows that leaves a trail of copies behind it. The room swam around him. His eyes moved absently around him.

Fuuta picked up the glass that someone had left him. His fingers were clumsy, and it immediately went crashing to the ground. He hardly heard the noise as it broke apart on the concrete below. 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed. He’d just go get a drink himself. Shidou told him not to get up without help. But what did he know? Thinking of the man ordering him around only drove Fuuta to step out of bed even quicker. He cried out, pain shooting through his leg. That was right, it was broken… 

Fuuta looked down, finding himself on the ground. It was so hot. Maybe this is what she felt, he thought numbly. Was it this slow for her too? Probably not. She had no regrets to fill the time like he did. The heroes got quick, beautiful deaths, and it was the villains who had to suffer the long ones. 

He lifted his right palm from where it had caught his fall. The shattered glass on the floor had cut into it. Shattered glass? What had broken? He stared blankly at the blood dripping down. 

He didn’t have the strength to raise himself up. He was burning. Why was he on the ground? Was he bleeding? He could barely breathe. What was he doing here, anyway? He just wanted to curl up and sleep. He was so weak... just to lie down... he wouldn't have the strength to get back up again. Was that such a bad thing...?

A voice caught his attention. His eyes struggled to focus on the figure who’d come running into the cell. He couldn’t understand a word of what she was saying, but he was happy when she pressed her cool little hands against his forehead. 

He allowed her to prop him up next to the bed. She held onto his hand, squeezing it tight. Why was she holding it like that? That hand was bleeding. When did that happen?

Her arms wrapped tightly around him. He wanted to shove her away -- it was too hot -- but couldn’t. In his ear, he could make out her words. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, Fuuta. Don’t leave me alone. I’m so sorry...”

As she pulled back, he recognized Amane. Her uninjured eye was filled with tears. Was she upset? He thought he’d been making her happy. He wanted to keep making her happy. He’d never made anyone happy before. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come out. They all scrambled up in his mouth. He felt the cell swirling around him.

Amane raised her voice. She looked desperately upwards. “This can’t be --! This isn’t right!” 

Fuuta looked up at the ceiling. There was nothing there. 

“I can’t do this anymore.”

She continued talking. Fuuta was too busy studying the ceiling. She was shouting. Or maybe crying. Fuuta didn’t like that she was so upset. Huh, had there been someone there? He surveyed the empty cell. What was he doing on the ground?

He looked down at his hand. The sheet from his bed had been pulled down and wrapped hastily around it. Why? His eyes felt sticky as he blinked. Everything hurt. It was so hot. What was going on? He was so angry. He was so scared. He wanted to cry. Why was he here? Why couldn’t he just hurry up and die already?

The next time she entered, Fuuta recognized Amane instantly. Her one hand pointed to him, the other held onto someone else. The second figure hurried over to him. 

Fuuta was not a big fan of dying. Shidou reassured him he wouldn’t.

—

“You’re wearing the eyepatch,” Fuuta observed. 

He was playing a dangerous game, drawing attention to it like that. He was too exhausted, and his curiosity won out over his better judgment. If Amane was going to explode with one of her typical speeches, he’d just let her.

She didn’t. 

Amane’s hand drifted up to her eye. It had been hastily covered before, but now it was cleaned and wrapped in professional-grade materials. She simply said,  “Kajiyama Fuuta. How do you feel?”

“Like shit.”

“But--”

“-- But I’m better, yeah.”

Amane nodded, her shoulders releasing. 

“Oi, I haven’t seen you in a while. Not since…” He wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence. Shidou had told him what happened, but it was difficult to believe. He couldn’t quite trust his own memory of the night. No matter how much clearer his mind felt since receiving proper treatment, those days of fever still muddled together. He heard that Amane had up and switched her beliefs overnight -- she was now complacent about all of Shidou's treatments -- but Fuuta knew people didn't just change like that. He wanted to hear it for himself.

She lowered her gaze in shame. “I… I thought you hated me.” Her voice was steady. “As you should. I almost killed you. I accept any ill will you may feel.”

“I -- what? You’re wrong. You… it wasn’t…” He grabbed his head, grunting in frustration.

After standing awkwardly in the entryway the whole time, Amane took a few steps inside. She made it to his bedside when he finally collected his thoughts. 

“It was your fucked up family or whatever that caused everything. They did this. And I went along and made things worse.” He looked away. His next words felt stupid to say to a little kid. He felt like the most pathetic, weak, loser. But it was too important not to say.

“They almost killed me. You saved me.”

[eriexplosion]

I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop thinking about the implication that Crosshair took that shot to protect Cody and not for the Empire really. If it was for the Empire he would have taken it immediately, not waited until Cody was being threatened with consequences. He wasn't angry with Cody afterwards for disobeying orders either, and he was clearly pissed that Cody was just another number to Rampart.

He took that shot to protect Cody first and foremost and nothing can convince me otherwise.

[darewolfcreates]

Made some plaza posts for the Grand fest, I don't have any fancy means of drawing on the switch so I just used my finger :]

PHOTO BOMB BLAST PART 2

I had more photos but I guess I gotta be cut off somewhere-