#setting intent

[pillowspace]

Uhhhhhh. Would someone who's extremely self-indulgent over Puppet Charlie make THI

[abyssal-ilk]

one of the most annoying things about being both a sera and vivienne enjoyer isn't even the fandom. it's the game itself that is like. primed to try and make you dislike both of them. or at the very least it operates under the assumption that you already don't like them.

the player is rarely allowed to give sera actually positive and understanding responses but is given every opportunity to kick her out of the inquisiton (she is the only companion this is a constant option for) and to insult her/her beliefs. so many of the player dialogue choices have the inquisitor calling sera unreasonable or nonsensical but so few letting you fully agree with her in a way that doesn't sound condescending in some way. this even extends to some of the companions and how they interact with her.

and then for vivienne, she is constantly referred to as being untrustworthy, manipulative, and "only in it for her own goals" when. surprise. everyone here is here for their own goals. solas and blackwall actively lie to and manipulate the player while iron bull has the potential to turn on them completely and cassandra repeatedly presses the inquisitor into being a religious icon to fit her own beliefs, even when they protest. not even mentioning the "but what's her real agenda 🤔" line in her character trailer, the snow white reference in her personal quest, and how her epilogue slides have this Edge to them that no one else seems to get.

idk!! just wow. wish the game liked them more.

[bluerosefox]

No Longer In Service

Okay

Okay

hear me out

Ghost King Danny Summoning!

The heroes fail to stop it, everyone is panicking, they feel like they’ve truly failed to stop it. etc etc

EVERYONE is ready to fight for their final life.

They’re as ready as they can be to go against something so evil JLD are scared of it.

SO when the dome that was sealing them away from the summoner finally shatters they are expecting some huge eldritch being, something made of pure nightmares... Only...

Only to find an old tape recorder in the middle of the summoning circle...

Everything is dead silent. No one moves...

Then it clicks on and makes a loud noise.

The noise?

It was the no longer in service beep.

“We’re, not, sorry.” a teenage voice began after the beep ended, startling everyone as they weren’t expecting this at all “But the Ghost King you are trying to reach is no longer in service or rather King anymore. Thus any big evil world ending plans you have made will not be approved during my reign. Please, get a life and try to actually live it because I will not be ending anyone's or mass genocide anything... Also to the really insane Fruitloop that tried summoning a being with the warning of "will cause the end of your world". I am the Ghost King now, eventually everything and everyone will enter my domain regardless of who, when, how, or why. That is something I can wait for, I got no reason to speed it up.... So have a pleasant day and enjoy being arrested or ended for doing this dumb summoning if you decided to do this in front of like everyone in your world or something... Goodbye!”

The world went silent after that.

That...

None of them were expecting that at all.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

I need to sit down and check through other hospital scenes but...

Buck hasn't worn a visitor badge when visiting Eddie in hospital both of these are from 414

and Eddie isn't wearing one in this new scene

in fact none of the firefam is wearing one in the hospital scenes in 611 and Maddie and Karen don't wear them in 517 when Chim and Hen are in the hospital, and Maddie doesn't in 618 either!

So the fact that tommy is having to wear one is a really loud indicator of his place in Bucks life - he is literally a visitor - a guest - who will be here for a bit but then gone - a gone that is coming very soon!

[yrsonpurpose]

“C’mere,” he says, surging up to kiss Alex, and he’s putting his whole body into it now, sliding his hands down to palm at Alex’s ass as he kisses him. Alex feels a sound tear itself from his throat, and he’s following Henry’s lead blindly now, kissing him deep into the mattress, riding a continuous wave of Henry’s body.

[cubbihue]

Does Timmy have any friends in fairy world?

Timmy is more of a socialite than a friend-getter. He can easily make connections with others, and can slip into established groups and create a dynamic with them! The kind of guy who is always invited to events but not related to anyone.

The closest he's gotten so far is Sanderson.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[bunnieswithknives]

Gore, Violence and Blood under the cut

What a mess

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

more of the dapper lad! i Cannot get him out of my brain

[tanuki-pyon]

What up LWA fandom :) I got something here I've been working on for almost 4 years now, started like kind of a silly thing I wanted to make for aesthetics and ended up being my biggest project so far. I wanted to share them here, but I'll be uploading them without a watermark on my patreon soon too.

This is kind of a love letter from me to the show and the people I've shared this interest with. LWA has helped me to grow so much as an artist and a person since back in 2020, when I first joined discord and met a lot of wonderful people who welcomed me as a fellow fan and a friend :)

Idk what else to say, I know the fandom is currently not as active as it was a couple of years ago, but I'm happy I got to finish these, at least for myself and the people still going around who love these characters as much as I do.

[suntails]

knighted

[roppiepop]

Dicktim Week 2024

Day 1 : Undercover as a Couple 🌸 Omegaverse 🌸Hades and Persephone AU

@dicktimweek

[senipsenipsenip]

The Pines family sat at the table, quietly eating their breakfast, when Mabel slammed her hands on the table and shouted “KERMIT THE FROG”.

Dipper leapt forward to right his orange juice glass, gathering nearby napkins to sop up the puddle. “What?”

“Kermit the frog! He plays the banjo!”

“Yyyyes?”

Ford raised his hand. “Who’s Kermit the Frog?”

Stan snapped his head up from his plate. “Who’s Kermit the Frog? The Muppets, Pointdexter, you were around for The Muppet Show. They had a movie and everything.”

Ford frowned. “Muppets.”

“Yeah, they’re a riot! There’s this Bear whose got some great puns and this pig who really know how to throw a punch. You’d love it, they’ve even got a scientist!”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you were such a fan of children’s television.”

“Children?!”

Dipper stirred his cereal. “I’m just impressed you remember all that. Yesterday you forgot you were married.”

“That’s because The Muppets are forever!” Mabel exclaimed.

“Wait, Stanley you were married?”

“Yep. Actually, unless I’m forgetting a divorce, I might still be married.”

“You didn’t,” Mabel chirped. “I’d have it on my Romance Chart if you did. You’ve missed a lot of anniversaries.”

“So has he!” Stan argued. “I’m not the only bad husband here!”

Ford spluttered. “Husband?”

Dipper frowned. “I think we’re getting a little too far away from why Mabel screamed Kermit the Frog and knocked my orange juice over.”

Mabel nodded. “Right, so, I was thinking of Mr. McGucket -

“Stanley you have a husband?“

“I was thinking of Mr. McGucket,” Mabel interrupted. “And how he could maybe help around the Shack. And he plays banjo! He could play banjo and people could put money in his lil banjo case like a real musician.”

At the mention of money, Stan leaned forward.

“But like, no one knows banjo music,” Mabel continued. “So I was like, maybe pop hits banjo? But then BOOM! Kermit the Frog! People love that frog. He could play the rainbow song. He’d be a hit!”

“Interesting,” Stan muttered. “Preying on people’s nostalgia to milk them for cash. I love it!”

Ford hummed. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea, Mabel. Activities like playing musical instruments have been proven to help patients with Alzheimers and dementia. Not that Fiddleford’s condition has the same root cause, but it may prove beneficial to memory recovery.”

“Eugh, don’t ruin this for me.”

“If playing an instrument helps with memory loss, maybe Grunkle Stan should learn an instrument,” Dipper suggested.

“Ooo!” Mabel squealed. “What about guitar? Or the piano? OH!” She clutched Stan’s arm with a fervor. “The triangle!”

Ford grimaced. “Maybe not that one.”

“Sorry, kid. I’m not exactly a music guy,” Stan shrugged out of Mabel’s grasp. “Let’s leave that to the professionals.”

Mabel frowned, but let the topic go.

Ford stood from the table. “Well, I happen to be visiting Fiddleford this afternoon. I can broach the topic and see what he thinks.”

Fiddleford, as it turns out, loved the idea. To the surprise of everyone, Fiddleford admitted that he had always wanted to play in a jugband when he was younger, but could never get over his stage fright enough to audition for the local band. Then he went off to college and then…everything else.

“Maybe I zapped away that scared bit enough to play!” he had cackled, knocking at the side of his head with his knuckles.

It was settled. “Fiddlin’ Fridays at the Mystery Shack with Fiddleford McGucket”. Dipper tried to point out the title didn’t make sense since it was a banjo, not a fiddle. Stan argued that “customers are suckers for alliteration”. The set up was just Fiddleford dragging an old rocking chair onto the porch and opening up his banjo case. Mabel had made a large glittery banner, but it was quickly absconded by Fiddleford’s raccoon.

“Tell your wife to give me back my banner!” Mabel had yelled, chasing the raccoon into the bushes.

“Ex-wife,” Fiddleford sighed sadly. “Apparently I was too emotionally available.”

Ford pulled at his hair. “Did everyone get married without telling me?”

“Excuse me?” A voice piped up. Fiddleford and Ford turned to see a little boy standing at the bottom of the porch. He was dressed in hiking clothes that were obviously new. In the distance, a young woman was unstrapping a baby from its seat in an SUV. Obviously city folk coming to the “wilderness” for the first time.

“Are you a real hillbilly?” The boy asked. Suddenly the door slammed open, Mr. Mystery striding through, eyepatch in place.

“Sure is!” Stan grinned. “Our very own genuine hillbilly just waiting to play you a tune! All you gotta do is put some of your mom’s money in his case there.”

The little boy’s eyes widened, turning around to race towards his mother.

“Stanley,” Ford admonished. “Fiddleford isn’t some show monkey to throw money at.”

“During work hours he is.” Stan turned to Fiddleford. “So, did Mabel teach you that song she was so excited about?”

Fiddleford sat frozen, watching the little boy yank at his mothers pants to try and get her attention, the baby beginning to fuss.

“Well…” Fiddleford cleared his throat. “Some good news and bad news fellas.”

Ford furrowed his brows. “What is it?”

“Good news is, my mind ain’t all broken.” Fiddleford hugged his banjo and turned to look up at Ford. “Bad news is I knows it ‘cause I still got stage fright.”

Stan scoffed. “Stage fright? C’mon it’s one kid and a couple o’ city slickers who would probably think you playing three wrong notes and spitting is ‘authentic’.”

“Stanley, be supportive.”

“I am! Look I’ve been at this job forever. All you gotta do is smile and if something goes wrong, you blame a ghost or something. They eat that up.”

Fiddleford shook his head. “But this is music. If’n I mess up music, ‘specially somethin’ they know. Music is real special to people, I can’t spoil it.”

Ford knelt down next to Fiddleford’s chair. “You don’t have to play that song Fiddleford. You don’t have to play at all.”

Fiddleford looked anxiously between Ford and the family. It seemed the little boy had finally gotten his mother’s attention and was excitedly pointing toward the porch.

“I…” Fiddleford shook his head. “I can’t let the little ‘uns down. ‘Specially not those ones.” As he said this, he gestured with his chin towards the other end of the porch where Dipper and Mabel sat bickering in lawn chairs. Mabel had returned from her raccoon chase covered in twigs and holding a surprisingly docile raccoon. Dipper was leaning away from the pair while trying to convince Mabel to stop feeding it gummy worms before it developed a taste for human food and tried breaking into the Shack.

Ford's gaze drifted to the twins. "Alright," he relented. "But you still don't have to play Mabel's song."

Fiddleford bowed his head.

"Yet!" Ford offered. "Not yet. She'll understand I'm sure."

Fiddleford frowned, looking unconvinced.

"Of course not yet!" Stan interjected. "You can't go playing the grand finale right out of the gate! You gotta warm 'em up first, keep 'em wanting more." Stan slapped his hand on Fiddleford's back. "If you give 'em what they want right away, they won't come back! Hold that one off until tomorrow or...uh...next week. Tease it or something."

Stan had started rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand as he spoke, a tell Ford was quick to recognize. It was the same one he did when he would "begrudgingly" let Mabel choose the movie for movie night or let Dipper rope him into another game of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons. Covering the most vulnerable part of his body while he let his emotions go soft.

Fiddleford seemed to perk up at Stan's words.

"Well," Fiddleford offered. "I do know some proper jugband music. Only, it don't have the same ring to it without a jug."

"We've got a jug!" Mabel cheered from the other side of the porch. It seemed the raccoon argument had reached enough of a truce that the twins were once again paying attention to the concert. "I used to keep pond water in it, it's in the kitchen!" She hopped off of her chair, lugging the racoon along with her like it was a rather expensive lap cat.

Dipper followed her. "Why did you have a jug of pond water?"

"Because, dummy, if I met a frog prince he would need something in the shack to remind him of home."

"Aren't you supposed to turn him into a person though?"

Whatever Mabel's retort was to be was cut off by the door swinging shut.

"There ya go," Stan grumbled. "You're getting your jug. Just in time too." He gestured toward the SUV. The mother was walking toward the Shack, one hand holding the baby, the other gripping tightly to the little boy's hand. The little boy gripped a few dollars in his fist, eyes alight with excitement.

Fiddleford looked frantic. "I can't sing and play the jug at the same time!" He gripped at his hat, pulling it down over his ears.

Ford sighed. "Then don't play the jug."

"It won't be the same!" Fiddleford shook his head. "A jugband without a jug that's...that's like a body with no heartbeat!"

The door swung open and Mabel emerged with an old ceramic jug.

"Here it is!" she exclaimed. "And it only sort of smells like pond scum."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Ford smiled gently. "It seems Fiddleford can't play both simultaneously."

Mabel frowned. "But it's a jugband. It's in the name!"

"How about we wait another day," Ford offered, patting Fiddleford awkwardly on the back. "Maybe someone in town will join you."

"Oh for Pete's sake, give it to me." Stan snatched the jug out Mabel's hand, sniffing at the top and giving a grimace.

Fiddleford stopped pulling at his hat, peeking out from under the brim. "You'll play?"

Stan grunted. "I'm not missing out on good money just because you have a case of the heebie jeebies. Besides, how hard can it be? It's like blowing on the top of a beer...er...I mean soda bottle."

Dipper crossed his arms. "Grunkle Stan, we know what beer is."

"Not from me you don't."

Mabel squealed. "It's happening! Grunkle Stan is learning an instrument!"

"It's not an instrument, Pumpkin. It's dishware."

"It's a scrapbookortunity!"

Mabel dashed into the house once more, leaving Dipper to grin at their Grunkle Stan.

The family was only a few yards away now. Fiddleford looked between Stan, Ford, and Dipper, and straightened up in his seat.

"Alright. Alright!" He clapped his hands together. "Stanley, you get down here with me, otherwise your feet are gonna get mighty sore from standing." He yanked at Stanley's hand until he sat beside the rocking chair with a grumble.

"Now when I tap my foot," Fiddleford instructed. "You blow on the jug. One short note at a time." Fiddleford tapped his foot in demonstration. "You got that?"

Stanley rolled his eyes. "Gee, I don't know. Seems pretty complicated for the guy without a PhD."

Mabel burst through the door, camera clutched in her hands. "Got it!"

"Excuse me?"

The little boy stood on the porch, approaching the banjo case with far more trepidation than before. Eyes darting between the assembly, he dropped a few dollars in the case.

"Is this enough to play a song?"

Fiddleford didn't bother looking at the money. He turned his gaze to Stanley, who shrugged and raised the jug to his lips.

Fiddleford grinned. "You know ‘Boodle Am Shake’?"

The little boy shook his head.

"Well you're about to!" And with that he was off.

By Fiddleford's standards, it wasn't a horribly complicated tune. Ford had heard him pluck out more complex riffs while waiting for the coffee pot in their dorm room to brew. But Fiddleford was smiling. His shoulders had dropped from around his ears, and he was nodding at the little boy to tap his feet along with him. Ford hid his smile behind his hands as he watched Stanley, eyes focused on Fiddleford's bare foot with as much attention as one would give to diffusing a bomb. Next to him, Mabel was snapping pictures of the pair. Dipper stood on his other side, wearing the small smile he tended to get when feeling introspective. Ford laid his hand on Dipper's shoulder, and Dipper leaned into the touch.

The mother was smiling at her little boy, her baby having finally stopped fussing. Maybe it wasn't the grand attraction Mabel had planned, but Ford thought it was worth far more than those few dollars anyway. Nothing could be worth more than his family standing around him, his closest friend singing again.

I know this song, it don't mean a doggone thing. Just do that good old Charleston swing. When you sing...

[ticklace]

Why would you intentionally try to make your lee safeword when instead you could tease them over the fact that they haven't?

I mean, consider:

"No stop you're killing me!"

"Do I hear a 'time out'?"

"No please not there!!"

🎶 "I don't hear a 'time outttt'..." 🎶

"I'm dying! I'm dying!"

"If only there was something you could say to make me stop..."

"SHUTUP"

"It's *almost* like you don't actually want me to stop at all..."

"SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP"

"If I didn't know better, I'd suspect you might even be enjoying yourself..."

[flustered hysterics]

[iambrillyant]

“october, plant me in soils of certainty and uproot me from any energy that brings chaos, weed out anything or anyone that disrupts my bloom and let the newfound awareness show me what deserves to be watered and what should be ignored. protect my garden and cultivate it with love.”

— billy chapata

[justbeingnamaste]

I’ve never seen the FBI engaged in a crime scene cleanup…they always have ‘cleaning’ contractors.

Murder scenes can be cordoned for weeks or longer but an attempted assassination on a former President gets pressured washed after 2 days? Just as the FBI is seen washing away crime scene evidence where the shooter opened fire to assassinate President Trump

FBI = Following Biden's Instructions

[peocokruu]

The whatever-melon fruit that Kagome got from her world was damm good! All of sudden he couldn’t shake off the feeling of gratitude building on his chest, and to both of their surprises he said with not too many thought -

“Kagome… thank you for all you do”