#so it was meant to mirror that in a way

[mering]

ghost

[galactaknightyaoi]

☀️ IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!! 🌙

This is my gift to myself :) I drew my favorite guys ever.

For a while I've been itching to draw the wedding outfits from this post again. I made them up on the fly as I was drawing, but I actually really like how they ended up turning out. They're super cute!! (though, yet again, you can't see almost any part of Dedede's outfit... 💔)

But then I couldn't get it out of my head to make a companion piece for it, with their mirror versions. And so. I did. What they have going on is a little bit messy, though...

Marriage or divorce!! Take your pick.

[jesuis-assez]

↠ Tim & Lucy ↳ 5x04 - The Choice

[puppppppppy]

fake ep idea + doodles

[harringroveera]

Okay well that’s kinda your fault for not being super clear Henry

[niaerinisms]

Book 2 was not bad, you all just didn’t care about the book outside of your white boy LI

[itsgrimeytime]

@imaginemyfavoritefics

Magnolia in May (Part Six) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...

Taglist: @loliakeoghan23

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TWS: kinda anti-Lori, angsty as hell (sorry), misunderstandings, hopelessness, settling, and crying.

[[A/N: Actually so fucked up over this. I thank What Was I Made For by Billie Eilish for this sudden sprint of new inspiration. Thanks for reading :)) ]]

"Lori," she added in, a wonderfully beautiful smile smoothing across her face, "-Mrs. Lori Grimes."

Suddenly, it wasn't raining around you. Or at least you couldn't feel it, despite the visual onslaught of the rain around you. You couldn't feel it-

"Mrs-" you cleared your throat -voice unsteady and scary, "-Mrs. Grimes?"

"Right, yes," she hummed, "-do you want to come inside? The rain is dreadful, I'd hate for you to get a cold. He should be down soon-"

"No," you answered, quickly -almost too quickly, "-no, I... It's not urgent enough to bother him."

"But it's urgent enough to walk in the rain?" She laughed -slightly, tilting her head, "-Really, he'll only be a few moments-"

"That's..." you paused, trying to keep your heart which was searing in your chest at bay, "-That's very kind of you, but I must be going."

"May I fetch you an umbrella, at least?"

You pursed your lips, squeezing your eyes shut and letting out a heavy breath -trying to will the urge of your heart, and be rational, "Yes, if it's not a bother."

"None at all," she spoke, holding the door open for you to enter, "-should only take a moment."

You flinched, but stepped forward, entering the entryway -the beauty of the paintings as stunning as when you first saw them. Paint rather layered and color varied, as you took a few timid steps -leading down the entry hall, and you would've gone back. Truly, not eager to spend more time here, but your eyes caught on something.

The shine of gold glimmered in the corner of your eye, and you'd only wanted to see a glance-

It was a family portrait, intricately painted with beautiful smiling faces. Lori was rather still, a rather practiced smile across her face, something rather off in it. Mr. Grimes was just to her right -face rather solemn, it didn't seem to fit him. You were so used to his smile, the crinkle by his eyes, seeing him happy -it didn't seem so in the painting. And in the middle stood a young boy, dark brown hair styled and blue eyes familiar -they were the same as his father's.

Your eyes skimmed over his figure, eyes as blue as the day you met him and curls pushed back rather harshly. His suit is a dark gray, a delicate thing with many layers -more sort of formal business look that you hadn't seen of the man yet. Still quite handsome, despite it all.

Something slipped down your cheek, unrestrained, vulnerable-

"Ms. Greene?"

You cleared your throat, scrubbing away at your eyes -the harsh red there surely leaving a mark. Even despite that, you tried to school your face into a more gentle expression -something to hide the pain. It was rather ungraceful.

"I seemed to be able to find one in the closet nearby," she continued, toying with the umbrella in her hand -until her eyes splashed up, resting startlingly still on your form.

Her eyes flickered to the painting, and back to you with a thoughtful sort of glance, "If you don't mind me asking, how do you know him?"

"Mr. Grimes?" you composed yourself, certainly wishing the tears away or the shake of your voice. Anything that gave you away.

"Well," you started, eyes unwillingly settling on him in the portrait (despite your better judgment) as you fidgeted with your skirt -mud caked upon it so thoroughly that you found it rather stiff, "-I met him in the market, really- more acquaintances than anything. Helped him find-"

"Judith," she answered -a little clipped, but you couldn't tell if it was because of you or mentioning Judith, "-I know. He's spoke of you."

You swallowed the cry in your throat -something stirring in you that he talked of you, but it felt numb. It felt so far than it had just the other day -tracing the inked letters repeatedly, hopeful. You knew you shouldn't have been hopeful, you told yourself-

"You danced," she added, approaching you with hesitant steps, eyes locked onto the portrait -detailing the figures in her own head, you assumed, "-all night at the ball, did you not?"

"Oh," you hugged your coat to your arms, the fabric growing stiff as it dried, "-that wasn't... Mrs. Grimes, you have nothing to-"

"It was," she interrupted, "-I know it was, Ms. Greene. I could see it in him."

"See it?"

She laughed, a little bittersweet -hand moving to rest upon your shoulder, "Richard Grimes is an easy man to read, I'm sure you've learned. As I showed up on his doorstep, his feelings for me had changed. I knew it, just didn't know who."

"And yet, he let you in?"

Lori didn't respond, a sort of silence developed in the entryway as you peered upon the painting -eyes caught on every curve of his face, everything you could recognize. He was rather solemn in the painting, sure, but it was still him. And a part of you wished to commit him to memory if you never saw him again, you wanted to remember.

"Could you," she paused, clearing her throat and dabbing at her eyes, "-Could you fall in love with him?"

"Mrs. Grimes-" you urged -you didn't want to come in between them, it was truly the last thing you'd want on your conscience.

"Ms. Greene, it is of no offense to me. Answer freely."

"You're his wife-" you echoed -tone in a sort of disbelief, "-how will another woman admitting she could love your husband not offend you?"

"I'm a wife who loves another man," she answered -voice shaky and echoing through the air, "-I can hardly judge."

You paused, eyes surfing over him in the painting -eyes lighting up with the familiar memories of crinkle smiles and berry baskets. You weren't there yet, sure, but could you be?

"I could," you answered with finality, tears rising up from your throat, "-I am. I am falling in love with him, isn't that just dreadful?"

Mrs. Grimes smiled lightly -a bittersweet feeling smoothing over his lips, "No, it truly isn't. But-"

You spun to her attention, heart heavy in your chest -a sort of dread clawing up your throat. It could never end well, could it?

"He loves his children," she started, hand moving from your shoulder down to the two of your clasped hands, "-and if my reconciling with him makes their lives easier, I know he will try to do it. And I..."

"You can't promise to say no," you finished, eyes a little bleary and heart cracked open, "-I wouldn't wish you to."

Lori flattened her mouth into a thin line, a deep sort of sorrow setting in her eyes -heartbroken, just like you, "It's a comfortable life, I'd be incompetent to turn it down, and for that, I'm... sorry."

You swallowed, tears washing down your face -steadfast, as your eyes settled on hers (a sort of mutual pain suffered there), "I'm sorry for you too, Mrs. Grimes."

She smiled a tight one that was barely upon her features -yet, you appreciated the little warmth that it garnered. It helped, that a family could be rebuilt from your broken heart, but it hadn't healed it.

You wondered briefly if it ever would.

And then, you heard it -the heavy fall of footsteps, tapping on the tile, and the voice. A voice you thought may stay in your head, despite the hurt that twisted in your gut.

"Lori?" he echoed down the hallways -tone rather straightforward, "-I finally got them to sleep if-"

You locked eyes with her, desperate, pleading as you took the umbrella from her hands, "Don't tell him I was ever here. You must understand this-"

She stared at you -a bit incredulously, "I mustn't lie, and he deserves to know-"

"I will not," you started, but the crack in your voice stopped you, "-I will not break up a family for something so... so trivial."

"It's not trivial," she spoke on instinct, "-I know that you know that-"

"Don't-" you echoed, faltering in place -heart only sinking lower, further, "-please, Mrs. Grimes. I can't- I can't hold onto this. I must, I must move on. You have to understand that-"

She looked at you, heavy and you could almost find solace in her pain -even just for a moment. A moment too long.

"Ms. Greene?" he spoke into the entryway, bouncing around the tiles and you couldn't find it in yourself to respond, to even turn around, "-Did you... Did ya travel 'ere in the rain?"

You coached yourself -years of practiced poise made it somewhat easy but in this moment, it was rather difficult. As your eyes matched his blue ones, a sort of wilt filtered through his face (he'd probably seen your crying, despite your work to hide it, it was always obvious), and almost on instinct, you saw his hand extend to you. To soothe.

"I... I was just going, Mr. Grimes," you spoke, lifeless compared to your previous words to the man, "-don't trouble yourself for me, I only wished for some shelter from the rain."

He paused, before flickering to the window -where the rain still held heavy, "It's still quite bad, Ms. Greene, I'm not sure-"

"Mr. Grimes, don't... don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Make what harder?" he asked -a flash between concern and confusion rippling across his face (You couldn't focus on it, it only hurt. All it could do was hurt.), "-I seem to be confused."

His eyes laid gently onto Lori then, as you felt your heart crush in your stomach -puzzle pieces falling to the floor with no match. And you willed yourself to step towards him, straightening his vest ever so slightly. Fingertips yearning for something so harshly, you couldn't help it.

"Mr. Grimes, you're a wonderful man-" you spoke -watery and bittersweet, "-but you're not mine."

[butchvamp]

Davrin's and Bellara's banters are so good it's a shame they don't actually let them have any of these conversations in cutscenes considering how much more it tells you about Davrin's character and also how interesting it would be for the both of them to discuss the gods, how they feel about them, and their difference of opinion. he does clearly feel a lot of fondness for the Dalish, even if he doesn't necessarily believe in the gods, and i don't know why they don't let him say this stuff during his quest when he goes to visit Eldrin or when he's talking about his purpose with the griffons and the Grey Wardens.

Bellara: What about the people? Davrin: I missed the sense of common purpose. A clan acting as one. Everywhere else, people were in it for themselves. Davrin: It's a reason I joined the Grey Wardens. Guess I needed that purpose again. The shared fight.

him discussing his time away from his clan and comparing his experiences with Bellara both as Dalish elves and as Grey Warden and Veil Jumper and bonding over their different perspectives and the things they have in common...

Davrin: I'll always be Dalish. That'll never change. The sight of an aravel still brings back memories.

also interesting they have him specifically say "I don't regret the life I've lived" when Bellara asks if he misses his clan (considering the entire game is about regrets), but he does remark that he wishes he could "do both." (why can't he? is he not still serving his clan as a Grey Warden? this game loves its false dichotomies. however, i do think this is just what he personally thinks, we just never get to ask him) he also goes on to say this:

Davrin: The thing about being Dalish-- I needed to see the rest of the world to understand why the Dalish part of it was so special.

compare that with his dialogue with Taash, where he just complains about the Dalish "doing the same thing all the time just because it was tradition." they also go back and forth and complain about the lessons they had to take as kids (Taash complaining about their Qunari lessons, Davrin complaining about the elves "always talking about the past." they love saying this about the specifically indigenous-coded elves lol) however, when he mentions honoring the hunt, Taash counters this and says it sounds interesting, and Davrin ends the dialogue by remarking "I didn't say I was the brightest kid."

back with Bellara, he then talks about what he took for granted before leaving, ominously states it was "...different," (since he is one of the few characters that actually brings up the discrimination elves face and comments about how the gods will make it worse and also lays into Solas about it, i assume that may be what he's vaguely referring to here), and then you get the dialogue about him joining the Grey Wardens— the world wasn’t what he thought it would be, and he needed to see good in people and have that shared purpose again... and perhaps he also wanted to find a place that wouldn't look down on him for being Dalish.

you get the barest slivers of this when you talk to him after Weisshaupt (before his quest pivots to just focusing on Assan) but this banter gives you so much more insight-- he talks about his purpose as a sharpened blade striking true, but it's also this shared fight with his fellow Grey Wardens that means so much to him... except they're all dead now, and he's not. he killed the archdemon, but he's still here, and they're not..... he also seems to carry some guilt about leaving his clan, implying that he "rejected them," and now he feels that he can never go back; i wish this was something we could discuss with him, considering he can potentially leave the griffons with the Dalish. Eldrin lives separately from the clan, but i think that could have been an interesting conversation, and also play a part in Davrin's grief after Weisshaupt (he feels like he can never go back to his clan, and now he doesn't even have Weisshaupt to go back to, either).

[crystalpallette]

get you a girl who can give you everything

this started a long long time ago when I made a joke about how sega should put ringo in more dresses, and then my friend reminded me that oh yeah!! I can do that instead!!! and then one thing led to another and we joked about punk ringo and I drew that too. using ringo like a dressup doll is so cathartic it's kinda crazy

some bonuses (original designs, timelapse) under the cut bc I like these designs!! I might do some more with them!! please disregard the band poster in the first second of the timelapse that's something else!!!

[aria0fgold]

Seared like a songbird flying to the sun

A belated birthday gift for @misty-wisp ! Tried to combine references for both Swan Lake and Cendrillon >:3 (Linked the English cover I took the lyrics from for the title!)

[jankwritten]

I will never be normal about Ox and Gordo’s relationship actually. Thinking about them makes me insane. Like imagine being abandoned by everyone you love everyone all at once they’re all dead or gone across the country or fucking banished to prison and they left you alone, ON PURPOSE, and you can’t do a damn thing about it because if you leave you abandon your home, their home, you lise what feels people you have left and is it even worth it when they left you so easily and

There’s a little kid hiding behind his fathers knees and he’s never had root beer and you watch him grow into this intense strange boy who doesn’t understand that his father isn’t coming home his father left him and god don’t you know how that feels and you watch him learn his way around a car and you remember the man who taught you who gave you a chance who listened when you said what was wrong and

He needs a job and you’re the only one who cares so you help, god, of course you help, you can’t let him or his mom lose what little they have left so you let him work for you under the table, he doesn’t need to but he demands it even though you paid off their debt as soon as he asked. It’s the money of those fuckers who abandoned you, anyway, and Ox needs it Ox and Maggie need it and

He’s everything to you he’s your son your brother your life and he’s fifteen and he’s your fucking tether, he keeps you human, and you think finally, finally you’re healing. You both had shit dads who dealt you shit cards but you’ve got each other and you don’t need anyone else and

Then they come back and it’s not for you. They come back and they don’t even speak to you.

But they speak to him. To Ox.

They need him. Just like they needed you when you were barely a teenager when your father leveled that town when he killed your mom when you had to become their witch because the pack needed it your Alpha needed it because Thomas-

But Ox chooses them, over and over. You try to make him understand that they’ll only use him and hurt him and he doesn’t care. He chooses them. The damned wolves.

Imagine the man you loved hated needed despised dies and his son makes every imaginable mistake and you follow him because he is your Alpha he needs you and you leave. You leave Ox behind and you hate yourself every day, for three years, you know how this feels you know exactly how this feels and it’s bitter in your throat because you hate him him Mark him for this choice you’ve just made and you understand and you hate it and it’s vicious and you can’t forgive him so how can you forgive yourself and

You come home and he’s not a boy anymore he’s not a kid but a man and he’s tall and strong and he’s the Alpha, somehow, and he doesn’t need you anymore.

But he forgives you. Easier than you’ve ever forgiven anyone in your life, he forgives you because he loves you and you love him and you came home.

[whatwooshkai]

12 for the number of letters in that/whatwooshkai

Chase's frame is a well-oiled machine. It is a uniform, it is a tool for justice, it is nothing more than what he needs it to be to do his job.

And that would be the total and complete truth, if it weren't for these Primus-damned finials.

He has attempted to implement emotion-supressing protocols to stop them from moving so damn much, but he wasn't so good at it that he could hide the coding from medibots, who would immediately delete it upon finding it, despite Chase's protests.

"It will make me better at my job," he had tried. "A field should be kept close and professional, finials should be the same!"

They'd just laughed at him, and laughed harder when his finials pinned back.

Finials aren't rare on Cybertron, but they continue to be an object of fascination regardless. Many times bots would have no qualms about reaching out and touching and groping his finials, just to see them flick and twitch, because leave me alone, those are sensitive- which just encouraged them more.

"You're uptight," Blades had drawled, leaning over the top of his bunk to look down at him. "Try to stop reacting. They just want to see you vulnerable."

Chase's finials had pinned back, flicking when he noticed Blades' optics tracking the movement. "I do not understand."

Blades sighed heavily, dropping down onto his chassis. "You and me both."

Despite the strange end to that conversation, Chase had tried his best to follow the advice. But the finials seem to have a mind of their own, and he doesn't even notice most of the time when they move on their own accord.

At least on Earth it's been better. His rescue bots have known him for so long they're not fascinated by his finials, and the humans don't seem to notice them half the time.

He's still not fond of them. They take away from his professional image and he can't control them.

And then, what a surprise, Heatwave makes it worse.

They had been sitting on the couch. Heatwave was splayed across Chase's lap, drawing, while Chase balanced the datapad he was reading on Heatwave's windshield.

It had been a Cybertronian essay on the mechanimals that found themselves populating solely large cities, a truly fascinating subject he hadn't gotten around to reading about yet.

So by the time he noticed, it was too late.

Heatwave had his digits on Chase's finial, rubbing gentle circles up and down. Instead of an electric jolt and a horrible feeling of wrong, a strange calm comes over him, and an involuntary purr begins to rise from his engine. He slumps forward, leaning on Heatwave, who coos mockingly.

"Look at that," he says with a triumphant grin, putting down his stylus to rub the other finial, and the purring gets louder. Chase tries to push his frustration through his field, but content flows out instead, making Heatwave's grin grow bigger. "Chase-y's got an off switch!"

Chase glares at him, but he knows it comes off as pathetic with the way Heatwave laughs at him.

Stupid fucking finials.

[ef-1]

girlhood

[wintergrofyuri]

@pockymonster-iz-selfshipping

no ur so right i was. nursing a terrible headache when writing i literally forgot. every single time where they didnt like the concept oftaking the blade andactively discouraged it. and even in cage no less. man. to befair i like. talked about the exceptionss. in my head. and didnt type it out. why. i dont know.

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Thank god Sasha was confirmed bisexual, otherwise people would hc her as lesbian solely and exclusively because she's kind of a bitch.

[softdreamlesssleep]

God, "I missed you" sex is the best