#which won't be... for a while

[white-wysteria]

treating asa different, are we?

-franklin

"Oh please. As if you can talk about the difference in treatment of people. What about that poor boy Wilbur? It's such a shame that he adores you so much, Franklin. You kick him like he's a dog that you simply can't be bothered to care for. Don't be surprised when he runs back to me after you abuse him like a poor, innocent child.

What do you know about this anyway? All you care about is that girl. Kikita, isn't it? Gosh, it's so very embarrassing that you are at her beck and call. You run to her when she needs anything at all. You would never catch me stooping so low. But that's what happens when you're in love, eh?

Cut through it all, Shepherd. You are in love with her. She is your Achilles heel, and one day, when she is utterly hopeless, you will have to watch her without being able to gift her your help. Suffering is inevitable, I know that much. Your little secret is safe with me, though. Who knows what would happen if people knew how much you truly liked her. Nothing good, eh?

As for Damon, he is... sufficient, I suppose. He is far more intelligent than any of the rest of you, and I find his company to be enjoyable, albeit, annoying at times. Not annoying like the ginger one is annoying. Annoyingly intelligent. He is worth ten of you, Franklin. The island medic has much more worth than a pathetic excuse of a man hiding behind a mask of his own past.

Do I treat him differently? Or are you seeing a reflection of yourself in my eyes? I am not you, Franklin. Damon is nothing more than a little pawn in my game, regardless of how I treat him. He's smart... I reckon I like that he's smart enough to keep him very close to me.

You lay down with feral dogs, Shepherd, and you wake up as one of the pack. I thought you of all people would know this, considering who your father is.

Get out of my sight before you alert the others of this little... altercation between us. Poor Wilbur would run himself into the woods, all sick to his stomach. And we are already dealing with enough, eh? Who would want the poor boy who loves you so very dearly to find himself alone... in the woods? With the vampires."

find asa (mentioned): @ask-asa-damon-lotf

find franklin: @ask-franklin-shepherd

find kikita (mentioned): @lolita-ily and @kikita-answers-lotf

find wilbur (mentioned): @wilbur-holland-lotf

[egophiliac]

now that I can think semi-coherently again...whooooo's ready for Friday WEEHOO

[the-barefoot-hatter]

pediatricians are hard to find.

you aren't broken and other important things a triangle needs to hear

[erinwantstowrite]

can you tell us anything about friendsgiving since it’s thanksgiving?

i can give you some out of context comic 🥰 this takes place during Friendsgiving (which i fear my turn into a short arc...) anyways i can't tell you what's being discussed here and it'll be funny watching y'all try to figure it out

[fridgrave2-0]

hehe ghost-turbo haunting felix au

turbo is connected to the last piece of his code in the whole arcade - a trophy he gifted to felix in mid 80s as a symbol of him genuinely caring about their relationships on par with being the best racer. felix also gave him one of his medals and both kept their gifts next to other rewards, but when roadblasters and turbotime were unplugged, the medal was gone with everything else

now, after burning in cola-lava turbo is basically dead, but scraps of his code still were intertwined with the trophy (after all, it was his first winner's cup, but felix never knew about it), giving turbo an opportunity to exist as a shadow incapable of interacting with anything and anyone besides felix, who kept the trophy even after the roadblasters incident

also I went crazy in tags, feel free to check them out

[dreamsteddie]

Companion piece to my Stobin childhood friends au post because try as I might to resist it, the Steddie brain rot will take over.

Robin and Steve are thick as thieves from that first day of preschool onwards. Their matching friendship bracelets don't fit anymore but have found homes in their "secret friendship treasure chest" which is a shoe box covered in construction paper decorations that lives under Robin's bed so Steve's parents don't throw away any of his "trash" again. They've started a tradition of making a new one for each other at the start of every year so everyone remembers they're best friends, though.

Halfway through first grade (Robin got to start school a year early like the Buckleys hoped) things are going great for Robin. She gets to bring books home from the library and their teacher complimented her drawing of a robin and she helped Steve pass his spelling test last week, so as far as she's concerned this is the best year ever.

Right up until Eddie Munson transfers to their school.

At first, Robin doesn't know that Eddie will be her arch-nemesis. When he's introduced to the class, all she really thinks about him is that he looks a little funny but seems nice. He's got really big eyes and he's taller than most of the other kids with long, gangly limbs. His hair is shaved down to his head, but there are other boys in class who have the same cut. He gets placed at the table group to the left of them in the chair closest to Steve's.

She very quickly forgets about him as the day continues as normal. Robin thinks math block is boring, she'd much rather read her books or play with Steve at recess but her parents said knowing your shapes is important, so she pays extra special attention. That's why she doesn't catch the little wave Steve, ever the social butterfly, gives to the boy across the way or the way Eddie's eyes go even bigger and a soft blush steals across his cheeks.

What she does notice is when Eddie comes up to them in the last few precious minutes of recess slightly sweaty and out of breath holding a little white daisy.

"Hi! I'm Eddie, I'm new!" he says, shouts really, looking directly at Steve.

"Oh, hi Eddie! I'm Steve, this is my bestest friend, Robin." Steve replies.

"Like the bird?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah! They're orange."

"And I hate orange!" Robin buts in, not willing to be left out of the conversation

"Yeah, it's really sad. They should be blue, that's Robin's favorite color." Steve says, real disappointment creeping into his voice. "Who's that for?" he asks, pointing to the forgotten daisy.

"Oh! It's for you! I was out all recess looking for the best one in the field. They kind of match your shirt!' Eddie says proudly, referencing Steve's polo with the yellow body and white sleeves. It's one of his favorites.

"Really? That's so nice, thank you!" Steve exclaims as he takes the little flower into his hands.

Robin's mom says that sometimes when you want to be someone's friend, it's good to start by giving them something nice. Robin's mom says that she should try and make more friends, maybe some girls instead of just Steve, but when Robin tries to talk to the other girls in class, she gets nervous and clams up. She thinks she might be allergic to them. Plus, why would she need more friends when she has Steve, who is worth at least three normal friends.

Steve gets along with everyone, he lends people erasers and pencils and shares his blocks with the other kids when he's allowed to bring them out of his cubby, but no one is his best friend like Robin is.

No one has ever given Steve flowers before, though. That feels like an extra special kind of gift that someone would give if they wanted to be really good friends, and Robin doesn't want that. Steve is her best friend, he doesn't need another one.

"Steve, we gotta go get in line before all the other kids! We don't want to be last!" she blurts out, grabbing Steve by the hand and dragging him across the asphalt to where the teachers are getting ready to call everyone to get in line before Eddie can catch up.

Once they've got their places, she looks back at Steve behind her to see he's turned around. She peaks her head around him and sees him smiling wide at an equally smiley Eddie who's about 5 kids behind them, each of them waving happily at each other.

Oh yeah, Robin is going to have to keep an eye on him.

[trchrswtrs]

I had a dream about Sebek and a fly.

Sebek was going about his normal business, when he noticed a fly sitting on his hand. He casually brushed the fly off, before lifting his gaze to resume his duties. However, out of the corner of his vision, he caught sight of the fly, back on his hand. He swatted at it again. But somehow, it remained where it was. He shook his hand, twisted it about, swiped at it multiple times but no matter how hard he tried to get rid of it, the fly remained on his hand. Growing increasingly frustrated, he even tried to crush the fly in his hand. But the fly still remained. He couldn't help but let out a cry of anger and upset as tears began to stream down his face, for he was desperate to be rid of this fly. This fly that would not release its hold on him. This fly that clung to the back of his mind every second of the day. And there was nothing he could do but despair.

[fiepige]

Compilation of EVERY single time they changed Hobie's filter in the digital version:

Left: Theatrical release Right: Digital release

You might have to click on some of them to get a better look at Hobie, sadly I don't have a video editor that allows me to make better edits than these :')

[rainybraindays]

Not to be that bitch, but if you're out here still saying Colin never apologized for the whole "I would never court Penelope Featherington" i think you need to maybe actually rewatch episode 1.

He very much does, as soon as he can once hes aware he hurt her. He addresses literally everything Penelope said hurt her about it. He says what he said was cruel and hurtful, he says that hes not embarrassed by her, he tells her hes changed and regrets doing something that hurt her. Its the most genuine apology anyone in this show has given.

How any of you have walked away from that seeing it as a fake apology makes me genuinely question what you think an apology is. Is he meant to fall on his knees crying and begging her to move on? Thats not an apology. Is he supposed to go "I'm sorry I fucked up, you're actually soso cool and so much better than me and everyone else" because thats love bombing.

Colin did it right, he came to her privately, apologized, addressed how he hurt her, reassured her he's not embarrassed of her and views her as his best friend, and said that he'd changed. Thats the correct way to apologize, thats how adults communicate. Everything that happened after that was in response to Penelopes frustration at her inability to be someone viewed as desirable in their society, and Colins want to prove how much he cares about her.

If we want to talk about non-apologies in this show, Colin is far from the first character in that line.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The girls are plottinggggg

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[mourn-and-watch]

one thing that is fascinating to me about merrill's arc is the way narrative manages to convince a big part of the fandom that she's immature and irresponsible and overall stupid. what we know about merrill and what we actually see on screen is that she successfully avoids possession for 6 years while working closely with a demon, almost every time she participates in some magic/spirit-related discourse she acts calm and confident and has some interesting input, she actively uses her knowledge of dalish lore and tradition to reason with her keeper, and that she actually did make progress with fixing and studying an ancient long forgotten artifact no one knows particularly anything about. but then an old woman who's never been shown to be an undeniably wise and reasonable figure, a guy who got willingly possessed with no awareness of possible consequences and whose whole mindset is still deeply andrastian and a bunch of people who know nothing about magic start judging and doubting her and everyone's like. yeah. she's so fucking dumb.

[egophiliac]

I have never been more concerned for a JP update from your art than I am seeing a Cheka knowing the context of Leona’s dream.

My bois ok right?????? My sweet nephews ok right??????

well

uhhhh

I'm sure the real one is fine :)

[khaoala]

sometimes you make me feel so scared, and sometimes you make me feel so safe.

DUNK NATACHAI as STYLE SATTAWAT episode 5 of THE HEART KILLERS

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

ohhh for the event can I get Vil and prompt 3 with reader as the ghost? ^_^

Words Unsaid; Vil Schoenheit

Content; Gender-neutral reader, angst, pining

Content Warning; Reader death (not described)

Word Count; 700+

A/N; Hi Haru! ... I decided to lean more into angst; I am so sorry Vil.

Please do not put my work into AI. If you would like to see more of my work check out my masterlist!

Vil’s hands were shaking, and he tried to make a sound but his voice was caught in his throat. 

His breath came out in white puffs, the Pomefiore lounge had become freezing cold as the fire died out. Dim light from the filtered moonlight cast everything in silver and greys. Long shadows crept across the floor like they were reaching out for him.

Vil.

It was barely audible, but Vil could hear the gentle hiss of his own name whispered into his ear, and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He took in a deep breath though, trying to calm his racing heart which betrayed how affected he was by his current circumstances.

He closed his eyes, shutting out everything else and focused solely on what he could hear. And with how on edge he was, he could have heard a pin drop. But he didn’t hear anything. That was the issue, alongside everything else.

Normally he would have been able to hear the muffled snoring of his fellow dorm members, or the gentle ticking of the clock, or even the standard sounds that an older building may make. But he heard nothing. Only the steady thump thump of his heart in his ears.

Vil opened his eyes again, and he stared at the figure that was now standing within arm’s reach of him.

It was you, but not as Vil knew you.

You floated closer towards him, and Vil dared not to move.

Ghost, spectre, phantom. That was what you now were.

But he had seen you that very day. Still very much alive. Still breathing.

“What happened,” he whispered, taking a step forward, trying to close the distance. 

You moved back, and looked him in the eyes as tears fell down your cheeks. And then you vanished, the fire coming back to life, and all the sounds coming back.

Vil raked his hands through his hair, trying to come to some reasonable answer for why you were here, why you were a ghost. And he found himself running as fast as his legs would carry him, coming to a halt at Ramshackle.

He knocked at the door, but there was no answer. He knocked again and called your name. But all he was answered with was silence, and a sense of dread taking hold.

Please forgive me.

He knocked the door down with his magic, and made his way into the house. Vil looked in every room of the mansion, but all he found was dust; even Grim was nowhere to be seen.

This is a nightmare— No it isn’t, you know that. But how he wanted this to be nothing more than just a simple nightmare. If only it were as easy as that.

His breath came out in white puffs again, and everything stilled like time itself was frozen.

“Please,” Vil could barely recognize his own voice, desperation was something he was not well acquainted with, “tell me.”

You stayed out of sight though and stared at Vil, wanting nothing more than to embrace him. To feel his warmth one more time. To tell him something that had been weighing heavy on your chest for months.

You never had the chance, always being pulled in every which way or dealing with one problem or another. And now? 

… it would not serve either of you any good. It would only cause more heartbreak, a tragedy that belonged in a play really, instead of reality.

Vil clenched his fist and rolled back his shoulders, “You’re still here, so you have something left that must be important. Let me help you.”

Something left, was in fact, someone.

Vil had always been outside of your reach, a star high up in the sky, and that distance was now further than ever.

That’s why you said nothing of your own feelings about him.

That’s why you said nothing, leaving the words unsaid.

“You can’t. Please, forget about me.”

Vil wouldn’t forget you. He would never forget about you, the person that he could be his entire self around.

Perhaps it was friendship, but something that screamed from his chest that it wasn’t.

And he would never get the chance to see what could be.

~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~

Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @bloomstruck @eynnwwyjth @ithseem @moonsoup01637 @lucid-stories @syrenkitsune @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

[fuckinart]

local idiot dies in fursuit, more at 11

[sandushengshou]

barbie from my shows <3