#travesty-majesty

[atlas-of-galaxies]

42 for Mizuki? :3

42. Love From The Other Side by Fall Out Boy

always happy for an excuse to draw more mizu5

[spotify-official]

Spotify handing out only the most normal of daylist names

Don't you know it

[tag-that-oc]

Sometimes a family is a tired exorcist who 100% believes they see ghosts (they have terrible insomnia), their ghost hunter sister who is, in fact, a scam artist using their sister's beliefs to make them both some money, and their 14 relatives that live in the same house as them

(Ghost hunter genuinely loves exorcist, they just come from a shitty household and she's trying to make them both money so they can escape)

aw that's sweet tho! scam artist cool,,

[correctproseka]

I'm here to submit this Akito random waiter and lady at table's card WHY IS HE SO SMALL

The random waiter is kinda cute ngl

[where-i-put-my-important-shit]

Images of my OCs Gil-Dong Cho and Ezra LeBlanc for the ship colours tournament!

[cuntess-carmilla]

That person also said that caring whether something is Real Goth or not is silly and ykw, I would agree to that IF actual goth music had a fighting chance against everything else that gets constantly mislabeled as goth, but that's just not how it is. Metal, Industrial, and almost any other form of dark alternative music is much more mainstream than goth and we're constantly fighting against honest to God extinction.

It's not that when you go to a night advertised as a goth night you'll hear an equal amount of goth, EBM, Industrial, Metal and Alternative Rock. It's not even that you'll hear most of those other genres and very little goth. I wish!

You can go to any night advertised as a goth night without hearing A SINGLE goth song, from 10 pm to 6 am. And it's not like, a travesty that happens sometimes, it's the norm. The absolute RARITY is going to a goth night that plays a minimum of 45% unquestionable goth music with the rest being debatable or outright not goth at all. I end up jumping in excitement and glee at even the most BASIC goth song being played in a supposed goth night once.

I've said this before but Sisters of Mercy, which pretty much is to goth what Megadeth or Slayer are to Thrash Metal, is touring in NIGHTCLUBS. Fucking imagine Slayer attempting to fit a singular Thrash Metal scene into a small underground nightclub. I saw Two Witches play at a shitty underground BAR. You can argue that they're not as universally liked among goths as Sisters of Mercy and Bauhaus, but they're still legends in the scene who've been active since 1987 non-stop.

The new artists goths get UNIVERSALLY excited for have 55-75k monthly listeners in Spotify at best. Drab Majesty and She Past Away are an exception at... 113k and 223k respectively. Compare that to even Nu Metal revival bands coming out now. Compare that to the most mid Symphonic Metal or EBM bands.

We simply have NO fighting chance if we don't get more territorial and don't literally campaign to not be pushed out and erased. This isn't me bragging; we're a severely underground scene. I wish we weren't! But we are.

Successful goth nights in terms of attendance are PATHETIC compared to the numbers that emo nights pull, and unlike emos, a huge portion of goths actually remain consistently goth throughout adulthood and our subculture is older and more superficially hypervisible. On average goths tend to remain living an alternative lifestyle consistently while most emo adults are at most emo on weekends bimonthly. We either get territorial and firm, or we're fully pushed out and stomped over, and the music we love dies out.

[rings-of-power-realm]

The trolls making it super clear that they're just review bombing

So I added to the 5 star reviews:

Rings of Power is a magnificent magical and epic show on all levels. It not only looks absolutely beautiful from the golden leaves of London to the majesty of Numenor but the costumes and orcs are stunning also. Nothing else on TV compares to the incredibly detailed and beautiful world that is a treat for the eyes. Bit not only does the show looks stunning it also has a fine cast all clearly putting their hearts into their characters. Elrond played by the wonderful Robert Aramayo is a joy to watch and this season to see his disillusionment and battle to fight for good is very moving and there isn't a bad performance by anyone they give their all. It also embodies the spirit of Tolkien and ties in wonderfully to Peter Jackson's trilogy. It really is a must watch its fantasy TV at it's very best it even has moments of humour amongst the horror and epic scale. It delivers not only on a huge level but a micro one too, caring as much for the relationships between characters as the battle for Middle Earth itself. The show and cast are phenomenal and in no universe is this a one star show, that is just pure hate and a travesty against everything Tolkien stood for. Rings of power is not only a visual spectacle but an emotional one too driven by a superb script and transcendent performances. The music too matches this high quality and so if you want to escape to Middle Earth once more I can't recommend this more highly.

Edit: oh no it defaulted to London agdhshsjsjsjs 😂😂😭

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Restoration Crewle daughter first meeting with Malleus is when she's taking notes of materials to fix the ramshackle as part of a deal with Crowley for Grim to attend school and the start of her adventure in said school

Malleus: * walked behind her as she's writing on her note book *

Crewel daughter: * slowy looks up and jumps back * Bloody fucking hell! Don't bloody sneak up to people liked that!!

Malleus: my apologies, I inquire of what are you doing?

Crewel-D: just taking note of materials I need so can can restore this building, it be ashamed for it be be abandoned liked this

They both talked about alot of things and her explaining of the process in each question he asked, till they exstange name and he told her to give him a nickname

Crewle D: .... Dave

Malleus: Dave?

Crewle D: you kinda look like one of the singer in one of my favorite bands that I listen alot back at home with my grandpa when we work together on fixing antique cars * giving him a kind smile*, I should bring my old mp3 with me so we can listen together

That's cute but it'd go more like this:

Resoration Crewel Daughter Reader: Hmmm only 54 shingles we'll have to repair that or if I can find 19th century gothic types then I can-

Malleus: Excuse me.

Resoration Crewel Daughter Reader: Oh! Then I can continue with the gothic theme all throughout but that would be more pricey...but if we only uphold the same century styling I can ensure all the other-

Malleus: Excuse me.

Resoration Crewel Daughter Reader: Give me a second. But those gargoyles he's throwing away would be lovely here! I just have to incorporate them properly.

Malleus: Gargoyles?

Resoration Crewel Daughter Reader: Yeah Crowley was going to throw them out but I just can't stand throwing gargoyles more than 2 centuries old away!

Malleus: It'd be a travesty!

Resoration Crewel Daughter Reader: Right!?

*Both continue to nerd out over gargoyles and their majesty.*

When you're in your element its impossible for you to acknowledge much else. Like back in primary days you two talk and get to know each other without running your names by each other. Only remembering after you both have parted and your guardians ask you who this mysterious friend may be.

You'll get his name....eventually.

[dotieeee]

I’m banging on my bars thinking about tying up Dream in lovely ropes as he’s begging to touch you or for you to touch him

I really hope you get out of horny jail soon dear Rogue!! In the meantime, here's some spice!!

***

Morpheus wasn't exactly in the most comfortable position.

He was sat on his throne, his entire body, including this thighs and calves, bound by flimsy rope he could easily tear to pieces with his strength, with that bulge between his thighs increasingly straining his pants, courtesy of that vixen making her way up to the stairs of his throne on agonizingly slow steps.

His eyes were locked in on you as you inched closer to him. You had on a slip of a dress that barely reached your thighs, made entirely out of lace in the shade of ruby he was partial to. It left little to his imagination and only exacerbated that ache between his legs. Your breasts, visible through the dress, were heaving in anticipation, and the higher up his eyes went, the more he had his breath taken away.

You had on the naughtiest of smirks, one that he knew promised trouble of the most enticing sort.

There you were, the most beautiful, alluring creature he has ever laid eyes on, only a few feet within reach and he couldn't even touch you. It was a travesty.

"Comfortable, your majesty?" He heard you tease just a few steps below from where he was bound to. Oh, he'll make you pay for this, he vowed.

"Barely, my love," was all he could manage in his frustration. If he could just free his cock...

"Let me touch you," Dream whispered with a slight strain to his voice. "Please."

Him, an Endless, beg? For you, he'd get on his knees and kiss the ground you walk on while doing so.

But instead of taking pity, you giggled - you actually giggled at his state! - and halted your steps, licking your lips slowly so he could observe that devious tongue of yours. Oh how he wished to have it wrapped around his -

"I don't think so, my king."

Mesmerized, he could only look on as you finally were inches away from him he could smell your perfume, and without breaking eye contact, you sat on one of his thighs, facing him, and proceeded to grind ever-so-gently against him.

A lesser man would've whined, but he was an Endless - instead he groaned at the way your slick folds were gathering wetness on his jeans, your breast inching closer to his face with your every movement. How he wanted just a bite of that perky nipple staring at him through your skimpy clothing...

"My eyes are up here," you told him lightly as you lifted his chin so he could get a view of your expression: those lips, curled up in a seductive grin, your eyes heavily lidded with lust...then languidly you dragged your hands through his clothed chest, placed them on his shoulders, and rode his thigh faster.

With a clenched jaw and the patience only the Endless in him could muster, he could only squirm in his seat as he observed you, throwing your head back and moaning loudly, the sweet music you were making echoing in his empty throneroom.

Even with all the cosmic powers he had in his grasp, he was the one at your mercy.

But if truth be told, he wouldn't have it any other way.

[mewmewchann]

Didn't have the energy to do more than a coloured sketch, but final attack of 2024!!!

Artfight was fun this year, I had a good time <3

characters (left to right) under the cut!

Honoka Ueda from @dreadnought-despair

Ariel Byrd by @travesty-majesty

Nozomi Kawakami by Zombieloid

Eliza Lowkey from @danganronpasinglefile

Kano by PhantomAlpha

[ask-the-royal-absol]

Gwen, seeing the new sight of their majesty, began to laugh at them. Being nice to this chud was not worth it.

This however did give it some payoff.

“Oh this great!” Gwen began taking pictures with her holoclip. “I’m going to have these pictures blown up and put on my wall. As well as one for each bag you have. Just so we know whose is whose.”

Gwen was not laughing but now she was the smug one.

Destino: I swear if any of you leak this travesty to anyone else, I will have you executed! Don’t test me peasants!!! You know, before you lot came here, nobody would cross me! Nobody dared to! I was feared by my subjects! I deserve every ounce of respect you pathetic Pokémon can give!

*with dramatic anger still in them, they turn to you.*

Destino: At least you’re apologetic. That’s better than some Pokémon here!

*Destino gives everyone else a glare. There’s a hint of genuine anger in their voice as they speak that it seems they’re trying to hide.*

(2/4)

@askbohemiancompany @ask-a-learning-ai @ask-the-shiny-pokemons @masetheumbreon

[spotify-official]

I'm normal. Im so normal

So normal, I am impressed

[yourpostisonpinterest]

@omnybus

@travesty-majesty

i found your post on pinterest!

[fixation-central]

new intro post! old one here

gale, fi/fir/firs/firself and he/they. fandom and aesthetic blogger, rarely tagging, adhd, and bisexual. swimmer for almost six years. bio student. dating @admiringtheskies!

ever after high enthusiast, five hargreeves enthusiast, bungou stray dogs bastard, newly into mxtx/danmei, bnha/mha lover (bkdk <3), merlin, and so into percy jackson that i've written almost 100 works for the pjo fandom (lukercy enthusiast, in all the ways two characters can be put together). creating ocs for both fandom and og fiction. reader of fanfiction and writer of fanfiction and original fiction, and general menace to society. will queer your characters (threat) <3

ao3's nightingale231, sometimes post on my writing blog @ravenstakeflight but mostly here. can get very annoying about a new fandom.

if anyone asks me about my og fiction i will scream and cry and be so happy,,,,,

mostly reblog things.

tag menu under cut:

original fiction tags:

monn dii, a story about a man who finds himself back in his hometown after over a decade away, coming face-to-face with the living ghosts he left behind (and the ex-boyfriend that left him for dead.) (included here are my #oc: hrun deshe and my oc: volaan dem cass tags.)

charmsinger, a story about a woman left unmoored after her last rites. desperate to find safety, she runs for the other side of the mountain- and falls in love. (included here are my #oc: saia wo'den, my oc: ralor wo'den, and my #oc: helios tags.)

fanfiction tags:

letters!verse: a lukercy story about hurt and unwilling redemption and love through and despite and because of it all.

hhpeu: the huan hua palace extended universe, exploring the lives of my ocs leong lili and leong tianyi and their relationship to the wider world of svsss at large

[TO BE UPDATED] [BECAUSE NO ONE ASKS ABT MY FANFIC LMAO]

taglist:

@multishipping-trash @kinganon @satandaddyy @travesty-majesty @bet-you-watch-sunsets-too @shyangelinnnerdevil @seashells-of-horror @generalbananatradegy @leave-the-pot-dear @chimneychimney @binch-i-might-be @cassiecasyl @firebugs-and-poetry @dannyphantom-rewrite @viceturtle @addrianastarflower @admiringtheskies @starphanton @z-mizcellaneous-z

[homemadefantasy]

Taryn's Inquest - Cardan's POV

Summary: Taryn's inquest and the moments that follow - from Cardan's perspective.

Across the room, Jude appears, dressed as Taryn. She is in all of the Court’s finery, looking as much to me like her sister as she always has, which is to say she looks nothing like her sister. Sure, they may have the same physical appearance, but the difference in the manner in which they carry themselves is unmistakable. Where Taryn is demure and desperate to please, Jude is unapologetic and strong. I am amazed she is able to fool anyone with how straight she stands and how high she holds her head; Taryn would be sniveling with her shoulders slumped. 

I am at a loss as to why she would return this way, play-acting a part that could not suit her less. Nevertheless, I must assume she has come to me in this way for a reason. If she wants to identify as her worthless twin, I shall let her.

Despite my role as king and the image I must maintain, despite my resolve to protect Taryn, despite everything, it takes all the self-discipline, a skill of whose existence until very recently I was unaware, I can muster to refrain from running across the room and taking her into my arms. 

Soon, she is standing before me, deep within a curtsy that appears to cause her physical pain. It looks entirely unnatural for her to be bowing to me, to anyone, not even considering that she is the queen of the land. Oh, Jude. I just barely catch myself before saying the wrong name. 

“Taryn?” She looks up at me with reluctance. Her pupils dilate and her eyes glitter with barely contained anger. 

“Your majesty,” she says stiffly. 

I suppose she expects me to play my part as well. I suppose I shall. I hesitate for a moment, imagining with no small amount of difficulty that the sister before is the pathetic, sniveling travesty of Jude. 

“We recognize your grief. We would not disturb your mourning were it not for questions over the cause of your husband’s death.” 

Questions, I suppose, I now know the answer to, since she sent her sister in her stead. Although, many other questions take their place. My jumbled thoughts turn to my many unrequited letters, and I wonder at her return. She must never have planned to; I suppose Taryn’s impending execution alone lured her back. But, for the time being, I will exploit any opportunity to convince her to rule beside me. In Elfhame. 

I am pulled back to the present as Nicasia, with no small amount of malice, accuses Jude of Locke’s demise. Unbeknownst to her, it seems, she is standing before us. Am I really the only one who can see that this is very much not Taryn? I realize, with a knot of shame, that I alone pay the exceptional amount of attention to her required to uncover her slight so quickly.  

Her voice changes then, the silence of the room glinting off her voice as moonlight off the edge of a particularly sharp knife. “Jude is in exile.” Is she really? “And I’ve never hurt Locke.” If there were any doubt of her not being Taryn, it has just been expunged from my mind, as Taryn would never have shown such repulsion, however subtle, at the necessity of saying the name. 

Nicasia is too wrapped up in her own grief over Locke to notice. 

I am not so encumbered. 

“No?” 

“I lov… I loved him.” She says with no small amount of difficulty. I think back to Locke’s ridiculous party, of her obvious infatuation. Of the ridiculous and unexpected anger that seemed to overwhelm me at the sight of her in his arms. Of my own fury mirrored in her eyes when she glanced at me. Of the countless weeks that followed during which I tried, albeit unsuccessfully, not to think or care about Locke’s toying with the Duarte sisters. Of Jude’s defiance at that critical moment when Locke believed he would have both sisters under his control. Of the chaos that directly followed. 

“Sometimes I believed that you did, yes. But you could well be lying. I am going to put a glamour on you. All it will do is force you to tell us the truth.” Or at least it would, had she not foolishly bargained with the most abominable of my siblings. However, despite the idiocy of the choice, I cannot deny that it has ended up being quite a valuable little talent. 

“Now, tell me only the truth. What is your name?”

“Taryn Duarte.” Jude dips into an unnatural-looking, at least for her, curtsy. “Daughter of Madoc, wife of Locke, subject of the High King of Elfhame.”

As if. There wasn’t a single word that just came out of her mouth that was not a lie. That’s my girl. The thought comes to me unbidden and with sharp barbs that pierce through my heart. Because she’s not. She’s not my girl, is she? Regardless of what I thought before her exile, she chose to stay. She chose to stay as far away as possible from me. Nerves suddenly overtake me as I begin to consider just why she is here in the first place. 

“What fine courtly manners.”

“I was well instructed,” she says pointedly.

“Did you murder Locke?” The room goes silent as it awaits her confession. 

“No. Nor did I orchestrate his death. Perhaps we ought to look to the sea, where he was found.” I do not miss the implication, or the glance she shoots my former lover. 

Neither does Nicasia. She turns to me, likely believing she is imparting great wisdom and knowledge upon me. Little does she know that I only require answers from one person right now. “We know that Jude murdered Balekin. She confessed as much. And I have long suspected her of killing Valerian.” How did she know about Valerian? Perhaps I ought to keep a better eye on Nicasia. 

“If Taryn isn’t the culprit, then Jude must be.” Perhaps I will ask her myself. “Queen Orlagh, my mother, – ” Yes, I know who Queen Orlagh is, thank you – “swore a truce with you. What possible gain could she have from the murder of your Master of Revels? She knew he was your friend – and mine.” 

Debatable. In front of me, Jude appears to be having some sort of episode. After a moment of consideration, I decide to humor Nicasia. 

“Well, what do you think? Did your sister do it? And don’t tell me what I already know. Yes, I sent Jude into exile. That may or may not have deterred her.” 

“She had no reason to hate Locke. I don’t think she wished him ill.” I could think of a few reasons. I hate Locke for what he did to Jude; I can hardly imagine what she feels for him.

“Is that so?”

Right then, my mother decides to be… helpful. “Perhaps it is only Court gossip, but there is a popular tale about you, your sister, and Locke. She loved him, but he chose you. Some sisters cannot bear to see the other happy.” 

Jude regards my mother with veiled surprise before she counters her with – “Jude never loved Locke. She loved someone else.” I am on the edge of my throne. “He’s the one she’d want dead.” 

My brain locks up, unsure if it should key on her confession of love in front of the whole court or on her declaration that she desires my death. Either way, I know it is meant as a direct attack – both halves. She can lie, after all. Before she can rattle me further, I cut her off, needing the rest of the conversation to be private. “Enough. I have heard all I care to on this subject – ”

“No!” Upon registering whose voice interrupts my command, I nearly snap. A murmur ripples through the crowd at the sheer audacity required to interrupt the High King mid-decree. Nicasia shamelessly continues. “Taryn could have a charm on her, something that makes her resistant to glamours.” 

She’s already resistant to glamour. I want to scream. But if Jude is going to torture me in front of the whole Court, why can’t I? “I suppose she’ll have to be searched.”

Her shoulders subtly shift back as she stands a little straighter, stiffer. Hiding terror that I can’t quite understand, she counters me. “My husband was murdered. And whether or not you believe me, I do mourn him. I will not make a spectacle of myself for the Court’s amusement when his body is barely cold.” 

Very well, then. What a perfect excuse to get the answers I require. “As you wish. Then I suppose I will have to examine you alone in my chambers.”

***

She stands rather awkwardly across the table from me, her face fixed with an odd expression I can’t quite place. 

She’s back. She’s home. She’s here. I can’t repress a grin. I gesture for her to join me on the couch. Start with the question that’s been eating away at me since I saw her walk in, the one which may seem the most trivial to anyone else, but is the most important to me. I attempt nonchalance as I say it. 

“Well, didn’t you get my letters?”

Six unanswered letters. Six fragments of my heart that were never so much as acknowledged. Six attempts to understand what was going on in her head. 

“What?” Bewilderment flashes through her clever eyes. 

“You never replied to a one. I began to wonder if you’d misplaced your ambition in the mortal world.” She may well have. This may have been intended as a short visit. I will change that intention.

She appears to be genuinely confused. Is it possible she never received them? Does that explain her absence?

“Your Majesty,” she begins. Your Majesty? Does she really hate me so much as to resort to such formality? “I thought you brought me here to assure yourself I had neither charm nor amulet.”

Oh. We’re still playing that game, are we? 

I give her a look. “I will if you like. Shall I command you to remove your clothes? I don’t mind.”

Something in her snaps. Her facade, I realize. “What are you doing? What are you playing at?”

Did she really think I didn’t recognize her? I think back to our interaction in the throne room. Had she thought me beguiled by a simple wardrobe change? 

You mistook one for the other once before. 

The memory hits me like a punch to the stomach. “Jude, you can’t really think I don’t know it’s you. I knew you from the moment you walked into the borough.”

For some inexplicable reason, this seems to unsettle her more. Was she here on some agenda besides her own? The Council’s warnings of her potential allegiance to Madoc suddenly flood my thoughts. 

“That’s not possible.” She shakes her head; that same unplaceable expression returns. She seems to be trying very hard to figure something out. Her scheming face strikes me as bizarre. What is her angle? 

All at once, I become singularly aware of every inch that separates us. It’s worse, somehow, than when we were an entire ocean’s breadth apart, to be so close yet not touching. She’s not close enough for me to see the green in her hazel eyes. She’s not close enough that I can feel her breath as further assurance that she is, in fact, here before me. She’s not close enough that I could reach out to hold her hand, should she want that. No question of whether I want that. I want that more than I need air to breathe, in this current moment. She’s not close enough. I hate it. I stand up, needing to have her in my arms. “Come closer.” 

She backs away from me, an emotion I don’t want to recognize screaming from her eyes. The pain in my chest swells. I clench my fists to hide their shaking, but I need to confirm one thing. 

“My councilors told me that you met with an ambassador from the Court of Teeth, that you must be working with Madoc now. I was unwilling to believe it, but seeing the way you look at me, perhaps I must. Tell me it’s not true.” What will I do if it is? I cannot arrest her. She is my Queen. Every advantage is hers: her authority over the kingdom, her authority over my will, her authority over my heart. Should she be in an alliance with her adoptive father, the kingdom, along with its pathetic king, would be ruined. 

Initially, this accusation just seems to confuse her again. Then, she seems to understand, though she does not voice whatever realization she just had. “I’m not the betrayer here.”

Oh. I hadn’t anticipated that her continued absence would still concern my paltry attempt at humor. Alas, for this at least, I can make amends. 

“Are you still angry about—” Suddenly, as I study her body language, I come to a realization of my own. Her entire body is taut and shaking, and she seems to be wearing her anger as armor. I recognize this tactic; I’ve used it myself countless times. The tactic of using anger to disguise one particularly uncomfortable emotion. “No, you’re afraid. But why would you be afraid of me?”

She fears me. How could she possibly still think I harbor any desire to hurt her? Can she possibly still believe I hate her? I thought this lie had been dispelled long ago. 

“I’m not,” the quaver in her voice and the shaking in her body give her away. “I hate you. You sent me into exile. Everything you say to me, everything you promise, it’s all a trick. And I, stupid enough to believe you once.”

Every word she says is like a tiny sword aimed directly at my chest. Is it possible she never realized? I had thought I had made it quite clear how desperately I had awaited her return. “Of course it was a trick -” She clutches a knife to her. Madoc must have sent her to kill me. Her hatred is genuine, and my heart lies in shattered remains all over the floor. 

Before I can so much as utter another word, the whole world shakes. Or is it just my world?  No, Jude seems just as alarmed as I am. Ah, of course. She must have been meant to kill me, and the explosion meant to hide her escape. I am unable to do much else but stare at her, concealing my anguish as I always have: behind a glare. 

Her ears prick up as something akin to sword fighting echoes down the hall. With a muttered “Stay here,” she darts out of the room before I can react. 

No. Not again. Absolutely not. I am not losing her again. Even if her plan was to kill me, let it be so long as I never have to endure another second of her absence. 

She is already gone. When I make it into the hall, I am just able to make out Madoc’s figure as he carries Jude off down another corridor. A battle rages around me, and though I know I should be concerned about how close they made it to my chambers, all I can see is Jude’s absence. 

It seems that Jude was the prize. Although the contingent of soldiers that Madoc brought here far outnumbers my guards, they recede as soon as they see that she is secured. The renegades begin racing down and out of the hill. Well, all shall soon understand the price that is to be paid for such an act. 

Thorns and briars, vines and branches, commissioned by myself and empowered by all the cruel magic of Faerie, wind their way through the many corridors of the Palace of Elfhame after Madoc’s men like vipers after a meal. I fall to my knees and my vision blurs, every ounce of strength and every drop of energy pouring into the attack.

The Bomb finds me some time later, slumped against the doorframe to my chambers and surrounded by blood. 

“She’s gone, Your Majesty.”

The world goes black.

[gayshitanddadjokes]

How do you decide on ur mutuals

It's totally situational. I don't check people's blogs when they follow me bc I really don't have the time for that, so it all rests on me either accidentally clicking onto the blog (less likely for me to look at the blog) or the blog leaving enough comments/tags/reblogs with additions for me to be interested enough to look. If I like most of the stuff they post and it isn't all the same posts that already end up in my feed from the other people I follow, there's a good chance I'll follow it. I stray away from heavily-fandom blogs for fandoms I'm not in.

It isn't that I don't like you if I don't follow you back. I would literally kill and die for @travesty-majesty and @theshittiesttriangle and I don't follow either of them (there are others but these guys were the first ones I thought of).

I've never really thought of it being 'deciding' on mutuals. It just kinda happens.