#marshy answers

[marshmellowtea]

i desperately need people to realize there's a difference between "women need to coddle (cis) men's feelings even when they're being misogynistic uwu" and "we shouldn't tolerate misogyny but actively keeping men separate from women and treating them like they're inherently dangerous to women is only going to worsen the problem (and also this mindset causes IMMEASURABLE harm to nonbinary, trans, and intersex people, who are already incredibly at risk right now)" and i need people to realize that NOW

[sillymemes23]

who does tumblr think would be the most worthy and better ruler of the planet

so

stuff

[all-mighty-axle-arc]

*totally not pointing a knife at marshmallow's throat*

Bud, never call me tiny or short, i swear to the sfoth, i will personally DRAG you back to an alley TO EAT YOU OR EVEN ROAST YOU ALIVE, oh yeah i can be like this because its April SH- i mean fools! And the others can all believe i act like this for a JOKE

Anyways! Have a good April fools! :3

*he stares at vin, taking a step or two back as to not impale himself on the blade*

"LooK aT YOU!!! DAw, so MuCH tEMpEr IN sUCh a LiTTlE bODy. DoNTchA THiNK i AlREaDy GoT ExPERIEncE wiTh hUNgRY OPPonENtS?"

"yOU'rE oNE fUNNy JoKE!!!!"

"oH, yOU ToO. HaPpY APiRl FOoLs!"

[borgialucrezia]

I know you focus more on Lucrezia and Juan (valid), but I was curious if you knew any books that went in-depth about Giulia? If not Giulia, any about the family in general, I just love the historical sources you pull from to parallel the show

hi!! i adore giulia so much! she's a truly captivating and intelligent figure to me as she wielded significant influence within her family based on the strength of her personality. remarkably at some point she defied the pope not just once, but twice, risking herself and her loved ones in the process. however, her close bond with lucrezia remains one of my most cherished aspects of the borgia history 🙏

“Admitedly, [Giulia] was quite different from Vanozza and in a manner that was not simply due to the great difference in their ages. Where Vanozza had been dedicated both to her own financial interest and her lover’s well-being, Giulia was lighthearted and featherbrained, never looking beyond the delights of today. and where Vanozza sought to tie her lover by submission and acquiescence, Giulia displayed an independence of spirit which kept Borgia’s interest at fever pitch even while such spirit could enrage him.”

— E.R Chamberlain - The Fall of the House of Borgia

“Vasari tells us, in his Vita degli Artefici, that over the door of one of the rooms in the Borgia Tower, the artist painted a picture of the Virgin Mary in the likeness of Giulia Farnese with Alexander kneeling to her in adoration, arrayed in full pontificals. Such a thing would have been horrible, revolting, sacrilegious.”

— Rafael Sabatini, The Life of Cesare Borgia

"The fifteen-year-old Giulia was already famous for her beauty. Giulia Bella, the Romans would call her a few years later, was not only beautiful, but intelligent, “endowed with gentleness and humanity.” Blond was the preferred hair color in those days, and legend has it that Giulia was blond. But a letter written to Cesare describes her as fusco (“dark complected”) with black eyes, a round face, and quidem ardor (“a certain vivacity”)."

— Emma lucas, Lucrezia Borgia

here are some fiction/biographies where giulia has highlighted roles (some of these books delve into giulia's relationship with rodrigo and the influence ower she wielded within the family, her political maneuvering and unwavering loyalty to her loved ones, capturing her fierce intelligence and her relationship with lucrezia) :

Lucretia Borgia According to Original Documents and Correspondence of Her Day (Ferdinand Gregorovius)

The Life and times of Lucrezia Borgia, Maria Bellonci

Cesare Borgia: La sua vita, La sua famiglia, I suoi tempi, Gustavo Sacerdote.

Lucrezia Borgia, Emma Lucas

Cesare Borgia, Rafael Sabatini

The Fall of the House of Borgia, E.R Chamberlain

Blood & Beauty, Sarah Dunant

The Borgias: Power & Fortune, Paul Strathern

[mindless-existence1]

Please more shadow ♥️😂😘

more of him is coming soon I have a few requests I have like partial answers for and just need to finish those up ❤️

[gladiatorspxrked]

4. Do you listen to music when writing? What kind of music?

16. What is a plot idea or otherwise character angle you want to explore more with your muse?

✠ » Mun Preferences « ✠

4. Do you listen to music when writing? What kind of music?

I have this answered right here <3

16. What is a plot idea or otherwise character angle you want to explore more with your muse?

I did have another answer for this posted, but there's also so many ideas that could be worked on! One additional idea I had was Pre-war Steamtrack. There have been a very small few times I've gotten to write with her, but I'd love to delve more into that - either from a gladiator perspective or her Decepticon days, before her defection. Or, honestly, maybe even having someone recognize her from her 'Con days and either not understanding why she left the cause or not even knowing when she did.

[samantha-and-her-chaotic-desires]

🎭 for the zelda asks

🎭 When you play Zelda games, do you imagine being Link yourself, or is Link a separate character to you? Basically, are you Link, or is Link a separate character?

Honestly I have never thought about this until now. When I littler when BotW came out, I always thought of myself AS Link (ESPECIALLY when it came to the Gerudo outfits lol). Nowadays when I'm playing TotK, AoC, SS even, I just see Link as a separate character. It's still as fun as ever. :)

Based on this post.

[scrawnytreedemon]

happy new year!! I started the year off right (thinking of zant / the twili / the interloper war and getting mad again that we were robbed)

IT NEVER ENDS! 😭😭😭

Nintendo,,, pleace... we already have [culture]s at home! Why are you getting more???

Happy New Year, Marshie <3

[cornley-amateur-drama-society]

7, 14, 49, 56, and 63 for spotify wrapped!

07. “Pleaser” by Wallows

14. “I Don't Know You Like I Used To” by mercury

49. “Jim Bogart” by The Front Bottoms

56. “Falling for U” by Peachy!, mxmtoon

63. “Cocoon” by Catfish and the Bottlemen

Send me a number from 1-100, and I'll tell you what it corresponds to on my Spotify Wrapped!

[ofmermaidstories]

fantasy au idea where your village is razed to the ground in the middle of the night by soldiers. you escape, just barely, half-crazed—but there is no where to run. your village is bordered by the ocean, by mountains and the hilly pastures that are now burning bright as the screams from the homes in the village follow you out into a dark copse of trees, hoping for cover.

you don’t see the archer, but he sees you, leaping over clumps of grass and dirt and stumbling like a drunk. his aim is true, and you gasp as the arrow pierces you.

you drop to your knees, the pain of the rocks you fall against, dull. vaguely, you’re aware of cold, fast water, soaking through your woollen skirt and weighing you down and if you had sense, still, you’d realise you’ve fallen into one of the creeks that vein through the forest—but you don’t. your face is wet, warm salt, and the last thing you think of, strangely, is the loaf of bread your neighbour had broken with you, just that morning, as she cackled over her own joke.

and then you pitch forward into the shallow water, already gone, and somewhere in the dark woods, a single owl calls out; the shadow of it cutting across the golden-hot light your village’s destruction as the edge of your skirt brushes against the submerged rocks.

(when the answering contingent of knights arrives in the village a few weeks later, it’s to scorched, blackened earth: the foundations of the buildings that had been here left like charred bones, picked apart and appealing to the sky.

kacchan is scowling, already barking out orders for the others to find what remains they can, to gather them, for graves to be dug—izuku sickened as he lets himself drop from his horse, his boots sinking into soft ash.

“even out here?” he asks, helplessly. uselessly. of course even out here. the capital’s army had marched through the land easily, without resistance. kacchan, who doesn’t spare him the pity anymore, frowns at him.

“take some of the others!” he says, but izuku is already walking away with a wave as he crosses over into the burnt fields, rising up from the woodland that reaches back to the mountains. it’s only when he gets to the edges of the trees that he pauses, his hand on the hilt of his sword—it’s quiet, in the trees. a lone whistle of a bird falling into silence as he approaches. izuku waits; the bird doesn’t regain its song, something about the silence, the air, paused but before he can decide if its a trap or magic there’s the crack of a branch, and the sudden, startling flurry of a flock of birds taking flight at the same time, izuku shielding his face from the frantic brush of their feathers and air as they dart past. his heart is pounding, with the surprise. he waits a heartbeat, a hard thump, and then another and another and when he at last lets his arms drop and looks up he’s startled again: you, standing there before him, grim.

“Who—” he starts to ask, but your face twists and before he can react the earth itself upturns itself; rocks at his feet where there were none, throwing him off balance as the ground shifts, trees bending down to protect you, to push izuku back.

GET OUT, he hears—he feels. it burns like a tight pain, across his mind and startled again he cries out before he lands on his ass, back out in the black earth of the burnt field, the forest crackling and creaking as somewhere, just beyond his sight, things rearrange themselves back to order again.

a survivor? he wonders, half in fear, half in hope. or something else?

and you—

your feet are muddy, sinking into moss as the ground where the knight stood fills itself in, marshy at first before it drains, green and undisturbed once more. at your back, an owl calls out, and you wait a moment—watching the treeline, waiting, but then the call sounds again and you turn, obeying.)

[sapphire-to-the-rain]

ADAPTING THE PROMPT OF 6 MISSED CALLS FOR A MEDIEVAL SETTING. ANETRA’S FAMILIAR BEING A DUCK. I AM OBSESSED WITH YOUR MIND !!!!!

would u do either “calloused palm against soft cheek” or “six missed calls” for anarcia 🙏🙏 (OR BOTH?)

I've been thinking a LOT about this one anarcia fic I found on wattpad about princess Marcia and commoner Anetra in a medieval setting. So here's my little rendition of an Anarcia medieval au (with some alchemy/magic)

Marcia tightened the strings of her cloak as she stepped into the smelter's shop. She heard the fire from the smelter and a hammer hitting the iron into horseshoes. It was loud, dark, and smokey inside.

These men could care less that she was the princess from a far-off land set to marry their king. But she couldn't risk anyone seeing her.

Marcia walked up to the large man in the corner of the room, who sat at a desk with inventory scrolls. Before she said anything, the man looked up at her.

"She sent Georgie about six times yesterday, you know," He said as he continued writing.

Marcia nodded solemnly, remembering the duck following her through her line of ladies in waiting. She couldn't give the familiar any attention, the castle staff would start to question her.

"Can I see her?" she asked, looking where the door was supposed to be. To most, it was a plain black wall. But Marcia could see the faint silver outline of the door.

The section of the door turned sideways and a figure with long dark hair peaked out. "Thank you, Father. She can come in," Anetra said plainly as she returned to her chambers.

The wall turned back as Marcia stepped through. Georgie gave her some welcoming quacks from his small pool as she took off her cloak. She held it awkwardly as Anetra went back to her desk.

Marcia stepped quietly to see what Anetra was working on. There were glass beakers with different ingredients, some smoking and some freezing.

Anetra didn't look up from the mixtures, "The general store is out of flax flowers," She said as she stirred a blue liquid with a slight shimmer. "Can you help me?"

Anetra finally looked at her, her eyes slightly pleading. Marcia hadn't done much magic since moving into the castle. Only when others wouldn't notice, like perking up flowers or fixing a loose chair.

She had to be careful, this kingdom did not take to outsiders very well. Her old kingdom thrived on magic and alchemy, but they were small and poor. Her parents sending her off for marriage was their only option.

Marcia stared back at her, unsure what to do. She felt her magic weakening day by day, using it less.

"It's okay, this is a safe place," Anetra held Marcia's check in her hand, encouraging her. She felt the callous on Anetra's palm against her soft cheek but wanted to melt into the touch.

Marcia held out her hand and concentrated. It took a minute, but a small blue flower grew from her palm. She deeply missed practicing magic, reminding her of her home village and family.

Anetra kissed her cheek, "Thank you, my love," she said as she plucked the flower from her hand.

Marcia sat and watched Anetra work on the concoction. She mixed and stirred, eventually pouring the mixture into a glass bottle. It was a deep purple, with a slight yellow shimmer.

"Drink this," Anetra handed her the bottle, and Marcia gave her a puzzling look, "Trust me, it will help you," sincerely.

Marcia sipped on the liquid, but it tasted awful. She finished it with a soured face. Within a minute, she felt lighter and her soul felt brighter. It was like how she felt in her old kingdom when magic was in abundance and she could freely practice her craft.

Marcia smiled, "How long will this last?" she asked.

"Sasha said about half a moon cycle, at least," Anetra explained. She handed Marcia the letter from her friend who lived deep in the woods.

That would end right about the time of the wedding, seeming like it would give her enough time to plan an escape with Anetra. She knew Anetra hated this village, feeling like an outsider in her own birthplace.

Marcia heard the church bells outside, signaling it was the top of the hour, "I must be going, I'll come back after the Queen's tea tomorrow, I promise," She tied her cloak around her neck and searched for the door.

"Think about it, okay?" Anetra said as the wall turned. "We can be free together, in your home kingdom," she nearly pleaded.

Marcia looked across the shop, "But I promised my family..." she trailed off.

"They would hate to see you losing your magic," Anetra pointed out.

Marcia could not argue with that, knowing that was the truth, "I must be going, goodbye Anetra." she quickly moved through the shop as the wall turned back around.

But Marcia's head was filled with thoughts of her and her lover practicing their crafts freely, living in a place that would never shun them.

[marshmellowtea]

what does it say about me that i saw chris calling celia "mother" instead of mum in most material referencing her and immediately thought "oh are they doing a norman bates thing with him"

[scribblescrabbledepartment]

2 more illustrationsss idk if im really in love with them maybe ill redo them someday

[ID: two illustrations. the first shows two boys walking against the wind in a barren, snowy area. the second shows a creepy, grimy, decaying baby doll.]

story under cut (taken directly from a dream) (this one isnt really my best & it still needs some revising but what ever)

“Do we really have to go all the way out here?”

“Yeah, I wanna show you something.”

Two young boys of eight and ten trudged through a marsh-turned-tundra, one leading the other. The gray sky was difficult to differentiate from the gray ground, and despite the snow and ice covering the area, the land was still somehow spongy and muddy and threatened to pull away their snow boots with each slimy step. Their footsteps would have made a pretty unpleasant crunchy-squishing noise which might be compared to the sound of an enormous beetle being crushed as their boots broke through thin layers of ice and sunk into the marshy ground, but the wind was so eerily loud with its otherworldly howls and whistles that it drowned out nearly every other sound. The younger of the two boys, following behind his older brother, looked warily at the few trees and shrubs poking out of the miserable grayness and thought that they resembled monster skeletons, but would never express this out loud; his brother mustn’t get the idea that he was scared, even though his brother was a little scared himself.

“It’s up there,” the older boy called through the shrieks of the wind. They approached a strange little area which was partially shielded from the weather with monster skeleton trees. About ten feet from the trees was the edge of what couldn’t quite be described as water even during the warmest seasons. It was more like a muddy quicksandy sludge, now mixed with winter slush. Between the slushy sludge and the monster skeletons was a barren strip of land. A couple of objects lay partially covered in muck and snow on the ground.

“What is that?” The younger boy stuck close behind his brother, not feeling particularly fond of anything that was happening right now. His brother snapped a stick off of one of the shrubs and used it to haphazardly dust off the things on the ground—dolls. Two baby dolls that looked like antiques, one still a rosy peach color and in pretty good shape, the other appearing greenish and almost decayed.

“A kid at school told me about this place,” said the older boy, answering before his brother could ask. “Apparently people leave sacrifices for them. You know why?”

His younger brother shook his head. He didn’t know and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. If they didn’t freeze to death out here, he was sure he’d have nightmares for a week just from the visual alone.

“They leave sacrifices because apparently they’re alive. They look pretty dead right now but when nobody’s around they get up and start walking and looking for something to kill, so people leave the sacrifices so they won’t go kill anybody.”

“That’s dumb,” the younger boy said in a voice that trembled much more than he would have liked it to. It was absolutely dumb and it creeped the hell out of him all the same.

“Yeah, it is,” the older boy admitted. “Still kinda neat though. They look really old. I bet they’ve been here for a hundred years.” Doing what, though? He pushed the thought out of his mind. He didn’t need his little brother thinking he was any kind of creeped out.

“Can we go now? This weather sucks,” the younger complained. His brother nodded and they turned around to leave. As they shuffled off, however, the younger boy lost his footing and tumbled over into the vast pond of sludge.

“God dammit,” he cried out in frustration. He knew his brother wouldn’t tell on him for swearing; they always cursed with each other when no adults (or tattle-tales) were around to hear. Grunting, he tried to push himself upright, but he found it very difficult to move in the thick liquid, and his heavy winter clothes didn’t help.

“Here, grab my hand,” the older brother called against the wind, reaching out. His brother somehow seemed much farther away from the edge of the land than he should have been. As he glanced at the ground to make sure he wasn’t stepping into the muck, he noticed that the more decayed-looking doll was missing.

“What the…” he murmured under his breath. He looked back up to his brother and felt his body go numb. On the horizon, moving closer, was what appeared to be a tiny figure.

“Come on, grab my hand!” He tried not to let his panic show as he leaned out over the edge of the pond, but something in his voice tipped his brother off. The younger boy turned his head and saw the doll swimming toward him, slowly but surely, and he began to scream. He screamed and reached as far as he could and tried to shuffle out of the sludge but it was much more difficult than it was getting in, and the doll grew closer. They could see its arms slowly going around like windmills in their creaky sockets in a very poor imitation of swimming and if it had been a scene from a movie they would have been laughing hysterically, but it wasn’t a movie and the movement somehow managed to push the doll with relative ease through the same almost-liquid that trapped the younger boy.

The two were becoming increasingly frantic as the younger brother struggled to free himself and the older boy briefly considered stepping in just a little bit to reach him, but then he surely would have wound up just as stuck as his brother and of no help to anybody. He stretched his arm out as far as he could, nearly falling into the pond as he reached, and as he finally brushed his brother’s fingertips he noticed that the doll had disappeared. And suddenly, so did his brother as something pulled him under at a terrifying speed, leaving the older boy standing stunned and alone in the desolate, miserable grayness.

[all-mighty-axle-arc]

Oh hello! Never expected to see you here marshmallow!

Wait how did sword lost his phone?

hEyYY feLLa, nICe to sEE yOu!! ReAL TiNY, AiNT YA?

DOnT WOrRy bOUt tHE pHOne, oR eVEn SWoRD hImSELf, rEaLLy. hE'LL gET hIS DEvICe bACk.

[ask-lab-rats]

For any of the kids who want to answer: If it was up to you, would you change your name/title? What would you change it to? (It can be another object you like, a "real" name, a creature, whatever! No limits :)

"I would change it to like Bonnie or Bowie or uh.... idk? maybe I'll just keep Bow." - Bow

"Um Marshy? Marcy??" - Marshmallow

"I really like the name Libby it's very cute" - Lightbulb

"This is hard maybe Preston? I like that name." - Pickle

[mindless-existence1]

For those asking for character with younger reader in a platonic or family sense I probably won't get to those just because the majority of what I write is romantic relationships and I'm not a fan of writing younger characters