#not to be completely insufferable BUT

[singsweetmelodies]

Hiii, it’s me again…T,

I saw the ask about everyone smiling n being happy and i was like “this is exactly how i feel whenever i read someone’s reply to my asks”. That anon is sooo right!!

Work is crazy. Plus I’m preparing for my residency stuff.. so I’m doing an audit for that and it’s driving me nuts.. but when i open thmblr n see something like this it puts a smile on my face, makes me feel lighter.. makes the day a little bit better

I was not having a nice day and then I saw that ask and it made me smile. So, thank you anon and thank you love ❣️

xo

oh my gosh, hiiii again! and first of all, i am SO sorry it's taken me this long to reply 🙈 i am a bit terrible when it comes to asks, i'm afraid - i have this bad habit of seeing them, and smiling, and meaning to reply... but then, well, life happens, and i completely forget about them till days/weeks/months (a year??) later. it's not been a year this time at least!!!

all that aside, though - awww, this is such a lovely message <333 it means a lot that i could make you smile 😁❤️ and i'm so sorry you were having a rough day - hope today was loads better for you, love <333 ohhh! and BEST of luck with the residency, gosh. sending you hugs & strength!! and for extra good luck, here's one of my favourite piarles gifs too:

THE T-SHIRT GRAB AND SCRUNCH. i will never be over it. never ever. !!!!!!!!!!!!

but anyway! thank you so much for this very kind ask, really ❤️ all the best to you!! 💞

[faeriekit]

I think Alfred needs his own prompt 👻(dp x dc)

Alfred had died.

(It was a bit of a waste of time— he'd been scheduled to get the boys to and from their suit fitting at this time. Now here he was; languishing. Murdered. Sulking, even.)

(How frivolous.)

As a busy man with children (an adult child) to care for, a house to maintain, and a budget to supervise, Alfred's main goal was to return to Earth, obviously. If he left Master Bruce in charge of the dusting, the man would absolutely let the unused parts of the house go into disrepair. Too impatient, his ex-ward was.

The only problem was that in this green, nebulous, and gravity-free afterlife, there seemed to be only one way out— navigating through the individual worlds that the denizens of this world have molded around themselves, until he finds a being willing to grant his wish to return.

Alfred sighed, checked for the pistol at his hip and the rifle on his back, and marched straight upwards. Or. Well. Downwards. Actually... Never mind.

[butchvamp]

i finished Harding's quest... whew... i don't like Harding. or i should say i don't like how nice the game treats her. she gets all of the emotional beats around the lore revelations while the elves are left to go kick rocks.

i pointed this out previously in another post, but the dwarves (and Harding specifically, and thus by extension Andrastians, too) get so much more sympathy from the game than any of the elves. you can clearly see it just in these two screenshots-- compare dialogue choices when comforting Harding after the reveal about the Golden City (and also important to note that the game assumes my elf is Dalish multiple times before this choice, but for some reason i can suddenly make her Andrastian):

versus the first real discussion you get to have with Bellara about the truth of the elven gods:

Bellara implies that everyone is right not to trust the elves, actually, because the elven gods (the same ones that enslaved her people btw) are bad and we should all feel bad about it.

and Davrin is unfortunately distanced from the Dalish, remarking that they're too traditional and stuck in the past (a racist trope that Dragon Age really loves for the elves), and only seems to care about how the elven gods make elves "look bad." we do get to see Davrin reconnect with one of the members of his clan later, which is a sweet moment that shows us a new side of him, but it exists more so to push along the griffon storyline than anything to do with Davrin (a problem i find quite annoying when it comes to Davrin's writing... they care more about Assan and "turlum" than him or his feelings. but that's a different post)

when we finally get to Heart of Stone, Harding has her big, emotional confrontation with a titan, and gets granted the memory of the titan's loss and all of their pain. she says some Choice lines, here.

who is thriving? the elves that were enslaved en masse by the Evanuris? the elves that are still enslaved and live in alienages? that are wholly, systemically oppressed throughout Thedas? then to follow it up with both of these lines, spoken to an elven Rook:

and i understand that this is the titan speaking through Harding, and we can be generous and say that they are addressing the Evanuris, and not elf Rook personally. but. uh. why doesn't my elf get to Say Anything. it's repeatedly insinuated that everything is the elves' fault, that the elves should feel guilty and that they should be held responsible for what happened to the dwarves (and by extension, the blight and everything bad that's ever happened including what's happening right now), and that they deserve to suffer because of what "they" did to the titans.... and there's no option to challenge this line of thinking at all.

and it's really frustrating that none of the elven companions are allowed this kind of emotional catharsis with the Evanuris. up until that one (bad) dialogue with Bellara, all of Bellara's comments/her reactions to the gods are treated as comic relief. none of them get to grieve their gods like Harding is allowed to grieve the titans-- they're not even allowed to be as angry with Solas as Harding is in some scenes. even Andrastians, in that one single dialogue choice, were afforded more sympathy and grief than the elves in this game.

it's a baffling choice, considering the plot, that elves are given so little grace or consideration. and i do think part of it has to do with the way this game has tried to distance itself from previously established lore as well as scrub itself clean of anything morally dubious-- it's all black and white and the game needs someone to blame, so the elves are bad because the Evanuris are bad, nevermind all that other stuff, because see, the elves actually deserved it all along! i don’t even think it’s unreasonable that Harding may have these feelings (even if they’re racist lol) but the fact you just have to accept Blame and the narrative never challenges her or Bellara’s guilt or Davrin’s apathy and instead just agrees with all of them and forces Rook to agree as well is shitty and takes it from “this character feels this way” to “the game is implying that everyone feels this way, and also that they’re right.”

it's really unfortunate because i do think this reveal about the titans and why the dwarves can't dream or use magic is exciting, it could cause some compelling conflict between the companions (but that's not allowed in this game at all unfortunately and you especially Cannot be even slightly rude to Harding, ever). and i do like the idea of her quest and what they're trying to convey here-- confronting this old, repressed trauma, and finding a way to reconcile with it and move forward.... but not at the expense of the elves, who also suffered massively at the hands of the Evanuris (and continue to suffer. right now)

bioware has been criticized repeatedly about their depiction of the Dalish, their indigenous coding, and even the mages, too, and i really do not understand what they were thinking with this, because it's just racist (and exactly what people have repeatedly criticized them for). this is why a lot of "fantasy racism" fails. you can't write a marginalized group as being responsible and deserving of their own oppression, that's not how it works!

[biillys]

billy hargrove: in every scene — 2.04 chapter four: will the wise

[bredforloyalty]

your doglike mannerisms and subservient nature and rather characteristic boyish grin and weird relationships with the older men around you have bewitched me. can i interest you in a prostate orgasm

[elbdot]

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WOW Gladion, very reliable, love that we finally got through to you, fwiends forever am I right 🫠

WE'RE BACK with a MEGA UPLOAD that was too big for one post so I had to part it in two, see you guys in a week with the second part (and the Webtoons update!) OR you can read the whole thing on my Patreon early! 👍

Patreon - And thank you guys so much for your patience for this update!! :D ☺️💖 It took AGES because of the backgrounds...

[jesuis-assez]

THE ROOKIE •── humorous moments [11\?]

Pt . 10 [x]

[vynnyal]

Of all games why this one

[novelconcepts]

Y’all. Y’all.

[scentedinksandwhackedseals]

sometimes i’m jealous of hardcore muna fans because their favorite band has a podcast but i think if boygenius had a podcast i would not ever EVER be able to think about anything else and that might be unhealthy. so maybe it’s a good thing that they don’t.

[teatitty]

Iruka isn't super big on public affection and everyone knows this so it's a huge shock the day he casually presses a chaste kiss to Kakashi's mouth through the man's mask and then calmly walks out of the room after [he is internally freaking the fuck out]. Kakashi isn't floating on cloud nine he is in a completely different stratosphere altogether

[unionizedwizard]

funny because i have at the same time a Lot of thoughts and feelings about poetry, coupled with a genuinely religious approach to it, extremely deep respect that i cannot and will not try to put into words (the last time i tried to i literally nearly killed myself), extremely intense deal, but also i am under absolutely no illusion about it. like at best there's like five people reading my work and going "👍" about it and i'll never be properly published and i honestly don't think i have any illusions of grandeur about it, like i genuinely don't think my work (even if it were, like, Real, and not just some crazy guy posting crazy poetry on the internet once in a while) could or would save anyone or Change The World or anything. yes it is the single most important and meaningful act in the world and yes it literally doesnt matter at all. hashtag zen

[claymton]

I've read some of your posts (I love your art by the way) and as a Clay simp I have to say I HATE ARTHUR PUPPINGTON MY GOD, AS MUCH AS CLAY HAD BEEN A SPOILED BRAT YOU CAN'T JUST IGNORE A FCKING CHILD AAAAAcbsknx The old man needed to mature instead of seeing a 12-year-old as competition

I get Arthur puppington but this old man should be upset at his wife not at the 12 year old who's been sheltered, spoiled and tricked into believing everyone should kneel down for him his whole life, that kid literally does not know any better

[atmilliways]

Preview

@steddiemicrofic

written for ‘Pine’ | wc: 508 | rated: T Kind of a time travel fic, kind of a future fic. Established relationship, but also not. With a whiff of mutual pining.

Eddie is cold. He’s so fucking cold, clutched in Henderson’s arms. 

And then he isn’t. 

He’s hot, dripping sweat instead of blood. Standing, feet aching like he’s been on them all day. Everything is light and heat and noise, the clanging of metal and the sizzle and smell of things cooking, people bustling. He sways on his feet, and—

“You okay, chef?”

It’s too much. Eddie’s eyes roll back, gone before he even falls.

He wakes in a soft bed, softer than he’s ever felt in his entire life. It smells of pine-scented laundry detergent, weed smoke, and comfort. 

“Eds?” Steve Harrington leans over him with concern and relief in his eyes, and something warm that chases the last of the cold from Eddie’s blood. He’s clasping Eddie’s hand in both of his.

Something’s off, though. Steve looks . . . older. And damn good in glasses, but since when did Steve Harrington need glasses?

“You passed out at work, babe.”

Babe.

Babe.

“King Steve holding my hand,” Eddie mumbles. “I’m either dreaming or dead.”

“. . . Oh.” Steve’s grip tightens, reminding Eddie that, oh yeah, he can hear him. Maybe not a dream, if he doesn’t get to have his privacy when thinking out loud. “Okay, so this is happening. Uh. . . . What year do you think it is?”

Eddie frowns. It’s 1986, but. . . . When he looks down at himself there are scars and unfamiliar tattoos and, weirdly, a distinct lack of one nipple on his own chest. Why is he shirtless?

His silence seems answer enough, because Steve nods. “Okay. You told me this was going to happen, just weren’t sure when. The last thing you remember is the Upside Down, right? Bats?”

The bats. Eddie shudders with his entire body. 

“Okay,” Steve says again, smoothing his thumbs over the knuckles and palm of Eddie’s hand. “You’re going to be fine, Eds. This is just a blip.” He offers an awkward smile. “But you’re going to go back, and it’s going to really hurt for a while but you’re going to be fine. Just do your stretches, I remember how much you hated that shit but it’s important.”

Eddie can’t wrap his head around what Steve is saying. His voice is small when he asks, “Will I still be able to play?”

The smile firms up, genuine. “Yeah. Not quite as good as before, we all know how important your left nipple was for that, but. You have guitars all over the damn place, really clutters up our apartment.”

“Our?” Eddie croaks. 

Another squeeze of his hand. “Yeah. Don’t leave me hanging too long when you get back, okay?”

He wants to ask more, but sleep is tugging at him and the bed is so soft. 

He wakes up in a hospital bed, and the Steve Harrington he knows is asleep in the visitor’s chair, hand on the sheet next to Eddie’s. 

And Eddie, not wanting to leave him hanging, breathes through the pain as he reaches to hold it.

(also on Ao3)

[inwiste]

was kicking around the idea with @fashionredalert of madara finding out hashirama and izuna are together after months of getting bitched at by hashirama for dating tobirama... at some point i will write more snippets but the basic idea was just "wouldn't it be funny if hashirama was genuinely insufferable about madara daring to touch his precious baby brother" as if he was not being the biggest hypocrite known to mankind

"You could always stay a bit longer," Izuna murmurs. His hair is still damp from the bath, fresh yukata cinched tight. Hashirama's fingers twitch. He can't stop his hands from finding Izuna's waist, pulling him close enough to touch. A dangerous thing to do when he has places to be.

"I can't," Hashirama sighs. He presses a kiss to Izuna's temple, the smell of his hair oil still lingering. He's already late. It's difficult to bring himself to care. "I can come back tonight if you're free."

A kiss is his answer, deep and slow. Izuna nips at his lip when they move to part and he cannot help but deepen the kiss in response, pulling Izuna flush against him. It's far too filthy for the early morning but it's still good.

It's a long time before he's willing to pull away. The flush on Izuna's cheeks, the swollen, shining lips and the dazed look in his eyes are each a temptation of their own.

It's agonizing to step away. He wants nothing more than to pick Izuna up and bring him to the bedroom for a detailed reenactment of the previous night but the rising sun is a cruel reminder of where he's needed.

"I can come by around seven," Hashirama says as he shrugs on his haori. "Do you want me to bring something for dinner?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Izuna sighs. "I have the day off, so if you finish up before then you're welcome to come early."

He stills for a moment. It's rare now, for him to spend a night alone. He's gotten used to having another person beside him.

He can't help but smile. To turn back to Izuna, hand finding his cheek, lips seeking Izuna's own. There's something he would dare call fondness in Izuna's eyes as he pulls away, heading for the door.

"I'll do my best," he finally says. Izuna's huff is more than enough reward.

The door swings open easily but he freezes in the middle of his step, face slackening in surprise. His free hand finds the door frame, steadying him as he stares.

Madara stares right back in equal surprise.

The moments tick by in complete silence. Madara hasn't moved, hasn't done anything save for stare, face settling into blankness.

He's forgotten that Izuna was still in the hallway, the reminder of his presence renewed by his voice, cutting through the prelude of what's to come.

"Well… fuck."

[dame-edward]

My contribution to the Raphael BG3 fandom

Canon interaction between him and my Tav Naamah tbh