#worlds shittiest birds

[drawingroomanguish]

Post battle waltz

[skrunksthatwunk]

god goromi really fucked my gender didn't she

[firenati0n]

wip wednesday <3 :)

hello friends! sorry for skipping so many of these, i was experiencing Insane Person Hours (when am i not) but now i am writing again thanks to the power of PRESSURE (posting proposal au on ao3 fjaslkdjflsaf) i feel like I'm back in school doing my essays last minute lmao ex Academic Weapon Roop shifting into MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE to write a FIC has been...a time and a half! thanks to all my friends for being so patient with me as i bang out this multichap and battle my raging imposter syndrome valiantly.

thank you to @thesleepyskipper @orchidscript @myheartalivewrites @littlemisskittentoes @blueeyedgrlwrites

@sophie1973 @suseagull04 @onthewaytosomewhere @theprinceandagcd @priincebutt for the tags <3 <3

here's a snip from chapter 3 of proposal au aka the full spectrum of human emotion, coming sunday <3 sorry this is so boring ajsdklflasf the other 13.9k words are spoilery LOL:

Alex wakes the next morning to a harmony of birds chirping and Henry’s soft snores. There’s a crick in his neck and a tweaked muscle in his back from the hardwood floors, barely softened by the comforter he had folded up as the world’s shittiest makeshift mattress. He couldn’t even use the spare air mattress in a pinch, because how the fuck was he supposed to explain to his family that he and his betrothed sleep in different beds? He glares up in fresh irritation at Henry’s sleeping form, curled into himself, facing away from Alex. The irritation quickly fades, however, making space for grudging fondness—and a little bit of something else—at the sliver of skin showing at the base of Henry’s back from where his too-flimsy sleep shirt has ridden up. Alex can see each point of Henry’s spine poking out through the shirt, and he gets a little lost counting the ridges and imagining how they’d feel under his fingers, until noises outside their door break his tunnel vision.

xoxo roop

+ some tags i missed from previous days below the cut and open tag as always <3

thanks to all the tags i missed over the last week from @cha-melodius @porcelainmortal @tailsbeth-writes @sparklepocalypse @rmd-writes

@kiwiana-writes @14carrotghoul @alasse9 @ships-to-sail @leaves-of-laurelin

@duchessdepolignaca03 @thinkof-england @heysweetheart-writes @indestructibleheart @miss-minnelli

@wordsofhoneydew @anincompletelist @ninzied @welcometololaland @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

@bigassbowlingballhead @eusuntgratie @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @getmehighonmagic @captainjunglegym

@nontoxic-writes @cultofsappho @sherryvalli @onward--upward @celeritas2997

@anchoredarchangel @cricketnationrise @piratefalls @itsmaybitheway @saturntheday

[taxidermycanine]

5 VIDEO GAMES FOR THERIANS.

i'm going to try to be as inclusive as possible like my last thread :0) enjoy!!

1 •

for my other wolf therians (or canine therians in general) out there — wolfquest !! live the life you were meant to live in this realistic wolf simulator. find a mate, hunt, raise pups, and defend what's yours!! this game is $20 on steam and itchio, it comes with the OG game too if you ever want to play the older version :03

you can play with up to 8 friends on multiplayer, there's a saga in the works (the completed version of the game), DLCs for those with extra cash to spare, and 88 achievements on steam for those who love collecting things!!

as someone who plays this game every day, and has been playing since i was a small child, i highly recommend this game not only from a therian perspective, but also because it's extremely fun to play!!

2 •

for any lynx therians out there, i recommend shelter 2 !! play as a mother lynx striving to keep her cubs alive and fed as you hunt prey, explore the wildlife and prepare for other animals trying to harm you and your young.

this game is incredibly pretty and, from my own experience, runs on even the shittiest computers with relative ease.

and yes, you can name both you and your babies :03

this game is $25 on steam and has a DLC for $10, it has 26 achievements and doesn't take too long to complete!!

3 •

if you're not a wild animal, but still feline, then i suggest you get the game stray !!

control an orange cat as you try to find your way back to your clowder after falling into a pit away from them. explore your environment, which can get pretty dangerous at times, so be careful!! but it isn't all bad out there, you'll meet friends, and people that love you.

story aside, this game is extremely fun to play and easy to control. i'm not a cat therian, but playing the game i felt immersed in the world, i felt like i WAS the cat. this game is $30 on steam :0)

the best part? you can meow. constantly.

i recommend a computer that can handle games with high graphics for the best results.

4 •

for any geese (or ducks) out there, you should get untitled goose game !! love mischief? even better, that's ALL you do in this game. steal things, make things hard for the townsfolk, honk and wear hats!! it's even multiplayer, double the irritability!!

this game is extremely fun and lighthearted, my favorite part is how you can collect things in it!! i love building a mountain of stolen goods and running around aimlessly as a silly little bird.

it runs well on all computers from my own experience, and you can buy it for $20 on steam!!

5 •

and last, but not least, meadow !! this game was produced by the same developers that made shelter 1 & 2 :0)

play as multiple animals in this online world, unlock different skins and new critters to play as, meet and make new friends, explore the environment around you. this game is suitable for all and one of the cheaper ones on this list at $10.

it runs easily on most software and is wonderful to play if you need some time to wind down in the evening after a stressful day due to the muted colors, calm environment and interesting style :03

[rookfeatherrambles]

What if there was an au where Jon is an undergrad looking to write a dissertation to get a PhD and in order to get that, he agreed to research the ecosystem on a remote and tiny island somewhere off the coast of the UK for a mysterious benefactor named Simon Fairchild? What if he was fine with the isolation, preferring it to being around people, and did his due diligence recording everything from how many eggs were in the nests of the birds on the cliffs to how much garbage washed up on shore. What if he started growing feathers himself, waking up sick every morning. Unable to eat food. Slowly, painfully turning into a bird that throws up plastic and shards of bone. What if Simon Fairchild put him there for a bet? Would that be wild? What if the son of the other person involved in the bet, Peter Lukas, overheard them both talking about the poor bastard they dumped on an island for the world's shittiest Eldritch tug of war, just to see what happens? What if Martin gets it into his head to rescue Jon and hijacks the supply boat they've been sending to the island to keep Jon alive and well stocked for his work. What if Jon has wings now and is very sick. What if Martin absolutely wrecks the boat because he has no idea how to steer and dock it, and Jon rescues him. What if Martin's first words upon waking up in Jon's bed are 'I came to save you'. What if Jon doesn't want to be saved. What if they fell in love. What if they slept together in the same bed and bound Jon's wings so he couldn't fly away and eat weird shit. What if it was domestic but they both know they've been abandoned on the island to die, because whatever Jon is becoming is too dangerous to let live. What if Martin tells Jon he can eat him, if he wants to one day when he's had enough. What if Jon tells Martin that afterwards, he'll just fling himself off the cliff. What if they kiss and spend one final day together? Would that be fucked up or what?

[deadboyfriendd]

Tequila Sunrise, I Waited For You

In the time that Steve Harrington had lived in San Diego, he had been married to the sea. He admonished the curls of the tide as he did the curves of the body of a woman who he would never come to know. He ran his hands across the polished oak of the helm as he would her waist. He let the salt kiss his face as lips would map roads unseen across the expanse of him. The sea loved him in ways a woman couldn’t, and, god, he would never admit that to a soul. 

As he stepped off the port, he tried to fight the heaviness of his body, the way in which the land did not rock him back and forth as the sea had. He did not feel weightless now, the world could reach him here, feasible and attainable where he wanted to be neither. 

He sighed as he set forth, the sun now nearing a point of beating as the pinks of sunrise had faded to blue and the beaches swarmed with tourists and locals alike. Steve hated the beach. He hated the sand and the way it stuck to him. Hated the people and their brashness and screaming children. He hated the way the water was too harsh and too cold as it rushed over his legs, slimy bubble kelp holding unknown dangers catching on his legs and threatening to drown him. He knew the sea, knew what she had to offer, and the beach had to have been the shittiest part of the whole thing. But he knew; he thought of it like a secret between them. Just a little further, past the tide as it broke over sand. She danced for him, stilled for him, and he would watch her for hours. 

Over again, as if he were trying to fight the thought of the sea from his head, he ran over his list of non-boat, non-sea things he actually needed to do today. Maybe shave. Probably shower. Check his PO Box. He repeated this list again and again in different variants, striking things off as he swung the metal door of the mailbox open and–

Ho-lee Shit. 

When Steve had let last week's edition of The Early Bird take him for all of his pocket change and probably at least a day’s lunch, he didn’t expect anything to come of it much less a response– from a real girl. He turned this page over and over again between his fingers, feeling the grain of the paper against his skin like it had been something much, much more valuable than something that had been torn out of a notebook in haste. 

He read it again, just to make sure he was still able to read:

Hello tall, dark, and handsome. 

I am writing in response to your ad in the personal columns of The Early Bird from the Sunday, June 27th edition. Three years ago, my heart was broken by another tall, dark, and handsome type. I read that the ocean heals, so I traded my land legs for sea, and now I seek a captain to guide me to smoother waters. 

 I will spare the formalities. I am not into hiking or health food. I live a life of comfort and leisure. I eat when I am hungry and drink when I am thirsty. I like to live my life in good company between work days, and you seem like the company I’d like to keep.

I am particularly fond of getting caught in the rain– when it happens, that is. I hail from the desert southwest, and I thrive on sunshine and sand. I live quietly. I like to read and paint. I keep houseplants. I am nobody’s poet, but I’m into champagne. 

I want to meet you. I want to cut through all of this red tape. 

It is true, I like pina coladas, though I prefer a tequila sunrise at the best of times. The Pisces bar on Mission and El Camino De Playa conveniently has both. Meet me there at tomorrow, noon. 

Sincerely, 

Tequila Sunrise

Box 1751.

He couldn’t help the smile on his face, the way it pulled against his skin on invisible strings. 

You’ve still got game, Harrington. You’ve still got game. 

He ran a hand over his head, fingers tangling against the grain of sea-salt-kissed waves, smoothing over the scruff of his jaw as he read it again, just to be sure. The Pisces Bar. Noon. Mission and El Camino De Playa. 

Pisces Bar. Noon. Mission and El Camino De Playa. Tequila Sunrise. Pina Colada. Definitely shave. God, you smell like tuna. Please shower. What the hell do you wear to The Pisces Bar?

He shook the thoughts from his head as quickly as they circled through, looking at the run-of-the-mill analog clock ticking away the precious time he should have been using to get dressed. And, yet, he strolled along, back to that penthouse apartment that he didn’t have nearly enough money for, and wondered who this Tequila Sunrise was. Who you were.  

He strides into the penthouse, unusually happy, with a bounce in his walk and a certain smugness that Robin can only discern as– 

“Holy shit.” She asks with wide eyes, both shocked and appalled by the news that she knows she’s about to receive, “Did you actually swindle some poor girl into writing back?” 

She snatches the letter from between his two fingers, her lips mouthing words of a yacht rock sonnet over rapid rolodex words on notebook paper. And then she says nothing, staring at him in disbelief, because how in the hell did her live-in idiot manage to pull this one off?  

“Like flies to honey, Robin.” He said to her over his shoulder, sauntering into the bathroom where steam already rolled through the doors in a fog, “Like flies to honey.” 

+

There was no writing to be had on Saturdays. No copy editing. No typing. You had the gift of time and god was it ticking slowly. You counted the hairs on your head it was moving so slowly, and smoothed them back down into the mass of curls that moved across your back as a unit. 

You had evaluated your outfit, put it under a firing squad. It was too nice for The Pisces Bar, but had it been too nice for Pina Colada? You shook your head, peeling the dress off of your body like a second skin, the weight of it already sticking to you in the sweltering June air of La Jolla Cove. Shorts were inoffensive. Denim was never out of style, and nothing about them was too formal or too commandeering. You nodded. Test passed. Good enough for The Pisces Bar and good enough for Pina Colada– whoever he was. 

You paced your room topless for several minutes, threatening yourself with leaving your house as you existed in this moment. Stupid. Clothes lay strung about your room in a flurry, and you slipped against a shirt that had been left along the hardwood, feigning it as a sign from the universe to just shut up and put it on. White linen, button fronts, oversized. It didn’t cling to your skin, and that much was enough. The fact that the stark whiteness of it made you look like you got enough sun was an added perk.  

11:00. Enough for a walk and yet not nearly enough time. The cliffside streets of La Jolla Cove buzzed with people, they always had. Tourists in shorts and hoodies despite the warm temperatures and residents sporting this season’s stretchiest athleisure as they strolled in the mid-day sun. 

You wondered if Pina Colada man was among them, if he had a blinding smile or waves of lustrous golden hair. You shook your head, laughing at your romantasy-born delusions. Pina Colada man was, more than likely, just some guy. The same resident of San Diego clad in board-short armor and fresh off of a charter boat steed. Yeah. That was right. Just some guy. You clung to that thought, the nonchalance of it all easing the nerves you felt as your feet hit the sand-covered patio. 

The Pisces Bar was a dump, its redeeming quality the fact that it was on the beach. However, it was your dump, and you would claim this in its entirety before you owned up to the dumpiness of it all. It had its charms, a washy, acoustic song reverberating off of the sea-washed wood of the walls, chili pepper lights casting a waxy sheen over the bartop. Homey, if that home had been a dump. 

However, you frequented this place often enough to where the waitress could identify both you and your order. Tequila Sunrise. Side of fries on a good day, and, seeing as it was noon on a Saturday, the fries were a must– malt vinegar and ketchup waiting to be served against a beautifully salted vessel. Your own personal idea of Heaven. You slid into your corner table like you owned it, even if it was only a half-truth. 

It was a halfway busy day, the people coming in and out resonating a low hum that served as a harmony to the tenor of whatever melody was playing over the speakers in this place. Clinking glasses and the occasional laughter of percussion you tuned yourself into as you watched. You did not know what Pina Colada looked like, though, you’d figured you would know when you saw him– or that he would be an absolute nutcase and start asking for a woman by the name of Tequila Sunrise. 

11:55 and a wash of sun-golden hair, and horrendously, devastatingly all-too-familiar. San Diego had done him well, better than the harshness of Arizona ever had. You would be lying to yourself entirely if you said he wasn’t still beautiful, hair falling in waves around his face like a halo, the coarse hair of his chest still prevalent against the ASU-patterned Hawaiian shirt he was clad in. You’d also be lying to yourself if you didn’t think you could still love him, but you wouldn’t, and your own shame would make Pina Colada man have to wait for you. 

The glass would stay half empty on your table, and your fries would have to go soggy because you could not still love Steve Harrington, no matter how much you wanted to– and you could not expect yourself to sit here, on a date with a man that you had written to from a personal ad, and act like he was not a mere few feet from you. 

This whole thing was stupid, you were stupid. 

The wind on your face was a sting now as you crossed the threshold from wood to concrete to sand in a desperate attempt to put miles between you and The Pisces Bar– between you and Steve. As you feet hit pavement, step after step in an aching speedwalk back to the sanctity of your home, you drafted the letter in your head. An apology, and excuse. Anything, was better than this. 

+

This place was a dump, but at least they played good music. 

11:55, entirely too early to be drinking if it was any day other than Saturday. Nevertheless, Steve pushes himself into a barstool and quietly ordered two drinks. One tequila sunrise. One pina colada. He takes a look around the bar, now only a few beachgoers paintently sitting around. 

He wonders who you are, what you look like. He wonders the color of your hair, those weird, nuances that make you human. He thinks about your defining features, and, at every new noise, he wonders if its you. 

12:00, he feels strangely human now, settled here into the air of The Pisces bar. He sips slowly at his drink, wiping the sweat that has started to bead against yours. Maybe he had been too eager. Maybe he should have waited to order your drink. 

He distracts himself from these thoughts by thinking instead about the life you’d live. Would you join him on the boat while he worked? Would you help him pull fish from the water and prepare dinner with the catch? Would he leave the penthouse? Oh god what would Robin think of you? 

Steve sat, pineapple and coconut sweet on his tongue, but not nearly as sweet as the memories he formulated in his brain, of the next ten years of his life.  

12:05, fashionably late. No big deal. Girls did that sometimes. Maybe you changed your outfit, maybe you got stuck in traffic or ran into a colleague and got stuck in conversation. Maybe you were just like that, always five minutes behind. He could find it in his heart to forgive you all too easily. 

He thinks of you on the sea, an entity he has yet to know with hair blowing in the wind, the sea kissing you in the same way it kisses him. He liked the idea of sharing that with someone– likes the idea of sharing that with you. 

12:15, maybe you’re waiting for him. He looks around the bar, looks for a girl that looks like a tequila sunrise. Maybe you’re shy, or maybe you don’t know who you’re looking for, He takes a look around, pairs of men and women, clearly so. No lone woman in sight. No Tequila Sunrise. Half of a pina colada. 

The casamigos filling his drink should taste an awful lot like To Her Casa Me Go, but now, it just tastes like a settling sadness. Sweet, coconutty sadness. 

12:30, he’s panicking. 

Dew falls from the glass as the tequila sunrise remains untouched and lukewarm, just as the sweat drips from his forehead at the thought of being stoof up. He tries not to make eyecontact with the bartender, he doesn’t want that stupid sympathetic look. He looks for you, he searches for you. He doesn’t even know who you are, and yet, the sting of the rejection hurts all the same. 

12:45, and Steve hated the beach. 

He hated the sand and the way it stuck to him. Hated the people and their brashness and screaming children. He hated the way the water was too harsh and too cold as it rushed over his legs, slimy bubble kelp holding unknown dangers catching on his legs and threatening to drown him.

And now he hates it because of you. He hates the way he should be holding your hand and walking in the pools that form in the water. He hates the way that the chatter of the beachegoers hasn’t been drowned out by the sound of him falling in love. And he especially hates the way it harbors his heartbreak like a boat anchored to the dock. 

He didn’t want to go back to the penthouse. He didn’t want to face Robin right now. He couldn’t decide which would be worse: the unrelenting teasing, or the look of sympathy that Steve was alone again. Adrift at sea, stranded on a desert island. Lonesometown. 

So instead, he drafts is letter, written in stolen Pisces Bar pen against a paper placemat. 

Tequila sunrise, I waited for you

I thought about you for the better part of an hour. I thought about your hair, and how it would look in the wind. I thought about what it would feel like. 

I thought about you sitting on the boat while I worked, I thought about your folded against the seats, with a book in hand. I thought about the way you’d beg me for those days. I never would have told you no.

I have never told anyone this. But I am in love with the sea, though, we have a complicated relationship. She never speaks back with me in the way I speak to her. She never tells me her secrets and she can never stay for as long as I want her to. I know you would have loved me better. 

Tequila Sunrise, I would have loved you. 

Sincerely,

Pina Colada. 

[the-nameless-poet]

The four magic beans

Summery : Reader hates physical injuries and has very low pain tolerance.

Pairings : James Potter x Reader

One thing that James knew about you was that you absolutely hated getting injured because you have very low pain tolerance. You simply felt like you're being a burden with your whining and needy-ness while you're injured. So you avoided it all-together.

But your boyfriend had forced you to join the gryffindor quidditch team just because you were great at it. I mean as he put it in words,

"Sweetheart I've never seen anyone ride a broom as fast as you do! You fly like cheeta of birds. You're awesome!" And James being James, he had somehow convinced you to finally play as the seeker of gryffindor quidditch team.

But things don't usually go the way you want them to. You remember all the times that things go south-wards for you. Like the time when you tried to save the kitty from the tree and fell off of it or the time you went to pet your neighbour's tortoise and it bit you. Yeah, a tortoise bit you. Like how pathetic is that? A tortoise out of everything? You were even embarrassed to tell the story.

But like I said the life ain't fair. That's exactly what you thought while you were chasing down the snitch and the other team's beater sent a bludger towards you. Your arm stretched out to finally get a hold of the little flying golden ball and suddenly a big metal ball come at very fast pace hitting the middle of your forearm directly. You did get a hold of the golden snitch but with that you heard a sickening crack and your boyfriend shouting your name in high concern as you lost your balance on your broom and fell off it and landed straight on the ground.

James tried his best to catch you but he failed. And there you were laying still on the ground with your hand clutched to your chest, James could see you were trembling but he also knew that even if the whole world comes tumbling down you would never break the facade of bravery.

You slowly stood up, the silence in the stadium was deafening. Even after the foul play of the opposite team you held your non-injured arm up in the air and showed off the treasure that you caught. A loud cheer erupted in the quidditch field as gryffindor had won the match.

James was beyond proud of you but he also knew you were dying inside so he quickly got off his broom and came rushing towards you. Madame Huch came at a fast pace as well as she examined your arm and sent you immediately to Madam Pomfrey.

James was the one to accompany you.

"Come on darling, let's get you all patched up, yeah. And then we can cuddle in my dorm and eat the shittiest snacks that you love and I can read you your favourite book. Come on." James said as he noticed tears gathering in your beautiful eyes. James was absolutely amazing. He always knew what you needed before you did. It was one of his 'i am the mom of the group' traits.

You went inside the hospital wing, still in your quidditch apparell.

"Oh, dear! I was waiting for one to be truthful. Not a single quidditch match goes without an injury. Come here, dear. Mr. Potter assist Miss. L/N to take a proper seat on one of the beds." She ordered James and quickly left to get supplies.

James saw that your facade was still on. The mask never breaking even though your eyes were glistening.

Soon Madam Pomfrey came and patched your hand up. She said that it was easier to fix broken bones so she'd let you go for now but asked you to visit if the pain gets unbearable.

At that you looked back at James with a little pout. You were on verge of breaking down but made sure not to. You had to be brave! You're a gryffindor for godric's sake!

James took you back to his dorm like he promised.

"Jamie, I can't change on my own I need help!" You mumbled pathetically as you looked at the shirt he offered you with tears in your eyes. You had finally had enough of the pretence.

"I know sweetheart. I know. Now, come're. You can let go now. It's okay." He took you in his arms and you broke down. After a while he helped you change into his clothes. One of his shirts and his sweats that were too big on you but you felt safe and comfortable in them. You adored wearing his clothes. They smelled like him. Like cinnamon, smoke and a nice musky cologne. And James loves seeing you in his clothes. The way you looked adorable even in overly big clothes of his.

The pain in your arm was slowly increasing and you couldn't help the tears from spilling out of your eye lashes.

"oh, doe. What happened?" James cooed as he hugged you softly to his chest. Made sure not to hurt your arm.

"Hurts!" You whimpered.

"Awh, I know baby. I'm so sorry. What do you want me to do, hmm? I'd do anything to make you feel better. You just say the word." Once again you found yourself tucked in his arms, hiding your face in his warm chest as he ran his fingers through your soft hair.

"I jus' wanna cuddle." You sniffed lightly.

"If that's what you need then that's exactly what we'd do. Let me just change and set our bed up, yeah?" You nodded your head a little as you sat on the edge of Sirius' bed.

James was quick to change and quick with making sure that his bed was comfortable enough for you to rest properly. He set up fluffy pillows and your favourite fuzzy blanket that he owned. You got under the sheets and waited for James to join you. He was quick to. He hugged you around the waist so not to hurt your arm. You laid your head on his chest and put your injured arm on his chest and settled yourself in your boyfriend's warmth.

"You know you were great today. The way you flew after that Snitch! I was frozen at the spot just looking at you. Merlin, sweets you were amazing!" Your face redden at his compliments.

"You were amazing too, Jamie. That snatch from wood was amazing!" You looked up at him with a smirk.

"Yupp. You taught me that move. Ofcourse it was gonna be amazing." He winked down at you.

"Yes. Yes I did." You both let out a little giggle.

As you were both settled in. James was reading ' Great Gatsby ' out loud to you when the door to the dorm opened slowly to reveal the other three marauders.

"Hey, Bambi. You alright there?" Sirius asked as he came and sat on the edge of your bed to examine your arm from afar.

"Looks pretty banged up, doesn't it, Moony?" He said with a little pout on his lips.

" 'tis alright." You said, clearly lying.

"Mhm. Sure." Remus sassed.

"Here, it'll make you feel better." He tossed a bar of chocolate to you. James helped you open it up and you happily nibbled on it.

"Oh, I brought you some snacks, if you'd like?" Peter passed James some snacks seeing that he was the one feeding you with his hands.

"Thank you, Remus, Peter." You smiled gratefully at them.

"Where's my thank you?" Sirius raised his eyebrow at you.

"Thank you for what? What did you bring?"

"She's right, Pads." James smirked matching the one on your face.

"Oh, so now my presence isn't enough for you." He rolled his eyes at the two of you.

"Well I guess you don't want these then." He took out a Pack from his robe pocket.

It was a jumbo couldron cake. These taste even better than the normal sized ones.

"Can I please have it?" You looked at him with the best puppy eyes that you could make.

Say, 'Thank you, Sirius. I don't know what i'd do without you. Cause my tosser of a boyfriend doesn't even know to bring me snacks.' then you can have it." Sirius smirked.

"Thank you, Sirius. I don't know what i'd do without you. Cause my tosser of a boyfriend doesn't even know to bring me snacks."

"Hey! You're my girlfriend!" James whined.

"Yeah, but he has the jumbo couldron cake. And I really want one." You smiled feigning innocence.

"There you go, Prongs' girlfriend." Sirius handed you the couldron cake.

"You know I hate you, right?" James scowled at him as he winked at you.

"What did I even do?" Sirius asked in a mellow tone.

Their argument continued. You just looked at them. The four magic beans you had that made you forget about the pain of the presence and the fear of the future and the hurt of the past. You listened to their argument for bit more but soon fell asleep with your boyfriend caressing your hair and your neck and the laughs of your favourite people in the world.

The marauders.

Another James Potter oneshot :

[mindcraps]

The Free Batland :

Tuesdays have an uncanny ability to feel like the worst day of the week.

As I navigate this day, a sense of helplessness washes over me. It’s akin to being trapped inside an iron cage, reminiscent of a prisoner serving out a painstaking sentence. The streets, which should be pathways to freedom, instead feel like they are closing in around me.

Every public space I encounter lacks a true sense of openness; they seem more like private enclosures, where the vibrant beauty that once filled my senses has been commodified. Everything meaningful feels restricted by a price tag—each moment of peace, each breath of fresh air I crave, every glimmering view of nature seems to come with a cost that I can’t afford.

In search of solace, I wander to the most forgotten, neglected corner of the city—a dump yard that epitomizes despair. Here, the remnants of discarded lives—a collection of rusty, non-functional cars—lie abandoned, like forgotten dreams. Strangely, this barren landscape serves as a reminder of resilience; cab drivers still wash their vehicles here despite the repeated warnings plastered across signs: "Washing vehicles is prohibited." They make the best of their surroundings, using the murky sewage water that appears deceptively cleaner to polish their cabs, which will whisk through the city’s streets all day long.

As I meander through this dismal setting on a Tuesday morning, I’m approached by a passerby who interrupts my thoughts with a simple question: "What’s the time?" Without glancing at my phone, I respond with confidence, “It’s 8 am.” After a few more strides, curiosity gets the better of me, and I slip my hand into my pocket to check. To my astonishment, it’s a perfect 8:00 am on the dot. I feel a surge of pride—maybe I truly am a genius of timing.

The air is thick with sounds that grow louder; it takes a moment for me to realize that what I assumed were birds awakening for the day are actually large bats, the true inhabitants of this "shittiest place." They flutter around, sharing tales of their nocturnal adventures as dawn breaks. A whimsical thought crosses my mind—I mused, “Maybe I’m a bat too, perhaps even a Batman.” In that moment, a strange sense of peace fills me, akin to those hanging bats, in their own world of tranquility.

As I continue my journey, I see a yellow bus stop with a steel bench, glimmering in the early sunlight. My heart lifts; here is a public space that feels genuinely open. “Finally, somewhere I can rest without the burden of costs,” I think. I take a moment to sit down, inhale deeply, and allow the small comfort of being among strangers who won't judge me for simply existing.

Just a few steps away, behind a barbed wire enclosure, I spot a somber gathering—the stark presence of roughly eleven soldiers standing in respect for a fallen comrade. The black coffin at their center holds a life that was dedicated to the service of others. Friends diligently place flowers atop the casket, paying tribute to a soul lost too soon. In this poignant moment, I feel compelled to honor him too. I consider taking a moment to mourn—not just for him but for the air I breathe, the freedom to walk, to think, and to write these very lines. He sacrificed everything so that we could enjoy these liberties. Perhaps we should all take a moment to mourn for the soldiers who continually strive to protect our freedoms.

Now, as the clock ticks to 8:47 a.m I notice the bats have settled into an undisturbed slumber. The sun rises higher, pouring down its golden rays, illuminating the surroundings. In this moment of clarity and peace, it seems fitting to bid farewell to this "Batland," an oasis of freedom found amidst the chaos.

As I wrap up the experience of this “Free Batland” on a particularly challenging Tuesday, I can’t help but feel grateful. Attached are a few snapshots capturing the essence of this unusual haven.

Wishing you all a joyful weekend ahead!

#mindcraps #shitpost #freedom

[fuck-john-calvin]

THE NARRATOR?

STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING THE NARRATOR GOD DAMN FOOL ANNOYING ORDERS GIVING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT VOICE OF THE WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING THE NARRATOR. STOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT THE NARRATOR I HATE HIM SO MUCH WHY DOES HE HAVE SO MANY FUCKED UP CABINS WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT JUST SET THEM [THE PRINCESSES] LOOSE IS HE DEAD IS HE A BASTARD MAN HAS SUCH A VISCERAL AFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM NEVER SEEN THIS MANS FACE AND I KNOW HE HAS THE WORLDS SHITTIEST BEARD GET AWAY FROM ME.

if i wanted to get into heaven and god said the narrator's waiting inside i would piss on gods feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down. if i have to deal with the narrator speaking one word in person on voice in game not only will i close the window i will load my history out of spite and have to replay the entire game again for the experience of being able to skip all the times when he is mentioned or alive. i dont even know why i hate him so much. he ignores mirrors but i am just mad because i am ANGY. he better have some fucked up backstory to explain this if hes just some rich shithead whos a fan of creepypasta and wanted the irl version ill go ham. BETTER have had a princess make him kill a man cuz if he didnt Im going to make him.

paypal.com/IFuckingHateTheNarrator

chapter's not even about him. vaguely mentioned what is supposed to maybe be his opinion and I lost it. where the fuck is the narrator if hes still alive im going to so deeply wish he wasnt.crusty old man. ill punch narrator and his sad frail old bird twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until all thats left is one final mirror he kept on him at all times simply reflecting Now You Fucked Up in ancient yiddish. im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point. i hope theres a date given for when narrator died or will die so i can make it a reminder on my phone, and everyday once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the man who had so many fucked up if true monarchs

[xhoneygirlxx]

Okay hear me out because idk who else to talk to about our Eds

Idk if you’ve heard Rain by Sleep Token but it legit screams Eddie Munson to me

Like poor boy don’t have too much, just Uncle Wayne and then you move to Hawkins and join Hawkins High.

You smile at him in the corridor and he just MELTS and he thinks the sun shines out your ass!

And then y’all get close and the first time you hug him, he feels like a new man.

I could ramble for ages, but thanks for coming to my TED talk.

Stop no cause it really is!!!

Loner!Eddie who is such a pessimist that he literally looks at life through gray color scale lenses, everywhere he looks it’s dull and lifeless almost like he walks around with a permanent rain cloud above his head.

He doesn’t believe in anything good except for the Hellfire boys, his uncle Wayne, and music but then he meets you and it’s like he’s had the worlds biggest epiphany.

You get partnered up for a school project and Eddie really feels like he’s having a brain fart because he’s been in that school for so long, he knows literally everyone down to the custodians but your name isn’t ringing any bells. When you walk up to him after class to talk about getting together he swears he’s just met the love of his life.

Just by looking at you he’s introduced to technicolors he’s never known. After that he can’t believe what’s been happening to him, the sun seems brighter, the birds sound sweeter, and his cynical heart beats just a bit extra every time he thinks about you.

Over the course of working on the project the two of you get closer, sharing secrets only the darkest corner of your rooms know. When the project is finally over though, Eddie thinks that’s it, you’re going to go on about your life without him just like you’ve done before.

To his surprise you don’t, actually once it’s revealed the two of you aced the whole thing you jump into his arms, hugging him tightly as you beam up at him saying the words “I’m so proud of you”.

That does it for him, he knows from that point forward there is more to life than brooding and Eddie can’t wait to continue living this life especially with you by his side.

—

I just got done working the world’s shittiest shift so if this sucks I am so sorry!!!!

Thank you for sending this to me <3

[xxnashiraxx]

OC Deep Dive: Ofelia

Thank you so much for the tag @khywren !! ❤️❤️ I always love getting a chance to talk more about Ofelia. ❤️

What Common/Uncommon Fear Do They Have?

A common fear for her would be heights- if she's far enough away from the edge, she can come to enjoy the view, but if she's up high for a not-so-good reason, it's enough to make her pass out.

An uncommon fear of hers would probably be driving. She'd seen a lot of crashes and even been in one as a teen, so she's not so keen on getting behind the wheel. :(

Do They Have Any Pet Peeves?

Ofelia hates mumbling- she hates having to ask someone to repeat themselves (unless they're visibly distressed) and she likes quick answers. If she has to ask someone something and wait for the seconds to drag on before the person answers her, she gets really crabby. I feel like these mostly fall into the category of feeling ignored or dismissed.

What Three Items Can You Find in Their Bedroom?

A fan to circulate the air and help make white noise, a candle to keep the room smelling nice and comforting, and a fluffy robe- it's her guilty pleasure to put it on in the morning and drink a hot cup of joe and try to enjoy as much of the early hours before the rest of the world wakes up as possible.

On a Scale of 1-10, How High is Their Pain Tolerance?

Unfortunately, pretty high. I'd say a solid 8.5 - 9. She's experienced a lot of abuse in her life. 💔

Do They Go Into Fight or Flight Mode When Under Pressure?

She definitely goes into fight mode. Being an orphan, she had to learn to get tough or the consequences weren't going to be very good for her otherwise. She doesn't hesitate to stand up for others, and will throw hands to prove it.

Do They Come From a Big Family/Are They a Family Person?

Ofelia is an orphan, sadly. Her first parents died when she was a child, and she unfortunately didn't encounter any good replacements during the rest of her adolescence. She struggles a lot with relationships because of it, somewhat afraid that they'll all go away eventually.

She's too fresh into her adventure on Faerun, but she hopes she can at least call her companions friends soon. ❤️

What Animal Represents Them Best?

For it's nomadic and stubborn nature, as well as it's unbreakable will to keep going for the person who gains it's trust, I'd have to say a wild horse. ❤️ She'd drive herself into the ground if it meant giving her all to the person who needs it from her, often at her own expense.

What is a Smell They Dislike?

Funnily enough, blood! At least in large quantities- she's okay if it's a small amount. When it comes to a lot of it, it can make her ill and reminds her of some of the darkest moments in her life.

Have They Broken Any Bones?

She fell off her bike when she was a kid and broke her left wrist, got a fractured rib from a school fight when she was 14, and unfortunately suffered some broken fingers from her last foster sibling (the shittiest one from her flashbacks, yes).

How Would a Stranger Likely Describe Them?

Astarion doesn't outright describe her in chapter 2, but he makes some observations. She's viewed as closed off and quiet at first glance, and if you make a bad first impression, she'll find something to make fun of you for so she can make you crack. She's funny that way.

Are They a Night Owl, or a Morning Bird?

Definitely a morning bird! She likes the night enough, but a quiet morning all to herself is her own personal heaven.

What's a Flavor They Hate and a Flavor They Love?

Love: Cherries, Cheese, Chiles, and Onions.

Hate: Pineapple, Sour Things, String Beans

Do They Have Any Hobbies?

Ofelia's top hobby is music- singing, playing various instruments (though guitar remains her favorite) as well as journalling and writing music. She also sketches and draws in her spare time!

I'm hoping to make a diary entry and post it here someday soon of what her little sketches and things look like as she continues her adventure. 😊

Boom, Suprise Birthday Party! How Do They React to Suprise?

Oh, she'd be over the moon.

She doesn't even know what day she was born on, and after her first parents, no one ever celebrated her birthday again. She'd be in tears, making a fool out of herself telling everyone how much she loves them, even guests that she doesn't know.

Do They Like to Wear Jewelry?

Oh yes. Aside from her nose and eyebrow piercings, she loves to wear earrings, rings, chokers, necklaces, bracelets- all of it! As long is it follows a dark, more gothic theme, she'll be wearing it.

Do They Have Neat or Messy Handwriting?

Bad almost all the time. She thinks faster than she can get her thoughts on paper, so it often looks huried and with a few things scratched out due to misspelling.

What Are the Two Emotions They Feel the Most?

I'd say stress/anxiety and a strong determination to be annoying. She loves to poke fun, it's her love language, but she'll never be needlessly mean. A few comparisons to a feral cat and some hissing impressions and Astarion is ready to stab her.

Do They Have a Favorite Fabric?

Probably cotton or silk- something light like the former and smooth like the latter.

What Kind of Accent Do They Have?

Southern Californian - it's where she spent almost the first decade of her life. Basically, it's the most generic American accent you can think of, though I'm forced to burden her with a British accent in the game 💔

This was so fun! Thanks again!! I'd love to get to know all your characters like this, below!

Tagging: @preciouslittlebhaalbae @inkymoonbunny @ladyduellist @justabiteofspite @verbenaa @elinorbard ❤️🩷

[secreterces5]

More dnd doodles! The first two are one-shot versions of Faust, featuring Tired’s Boot and Haley’s Jay, and also the little girl from Monsters Inc because yes we did get isekai’d into the monster world for a bit and save a toddler, it keeps happening to him.

The comic + bonus doodle is of Calamity Campaign Faust and Zayra having a soft moment :) they kinda need it ngl we’ve been doing badly 😭

Featuring vampire!Faust because I think it would be funny to make a bird into a vampire and he deserves it, and the Discord bot we use for playing dnd, Dice Maiden, as the god of the world’s shittiest luck 👍 I love her and I hate her.

[wellactuallynark]

** Please be nice this is the first thing I’ve written in many years. On mobile so sorry for formatting.**

"Nicky." Lark exhales, lips brushing Nick's ear. A shiver rakes down his spine in response. He’s sitting on the ground, half slouched against a grimy wall. Hands grip at his shoulders. The muscles in his calves spasm against the blinding stabbing pain in his legs, further irritating them. A pained gasp forces its way out. Larks frown blurs in-front of him.

“Row, get over here now!” Lark yells over his shoulder before turning back. "Easy Nick. Breathe." Nick immediately tries to inhale, breath stuttering into his lungs. Not enough. He throws his head back in a desperate attempt of opening his airway but his throat constricts impossibly tighter. The back of his skull hits the brick behind him and for a moment he can think in a straight line.

Nick gasps, reaching for his throat while slamming his head back against the wall, once, twice, and on the third time he hits flesh. Vaguely he recognizes that a hand had filled the gap between his head and the wall. Nick grabs the collar of his own shirt and pulls. Maybe it would trick his body into thinking he could breathe.

Larks face comes back into his blurry vision, mouth moving without sound. Nick tried to focus on his lips frantically trying to understand what he was saying. He shakes his head in frustration, groans and meets Larks eyes. They were stern and steady, holding his attention. Just behind Lark, is a Sparrow shaped blob kneeling at his feet.

As he notices Sparrow, a sharp, twisting pain shot through his chest, down to his legs and back up again like the worlds shittiest pinball machine. Nick groans and pitches forward, hands falling from his collar to brace himself against the man in front of him.

A rush of air hits Nick as he is shifted around. The world tilts around him so he squeezes his eyes shut. Moments later a piece of plastic is forced between his blue tinged, gasping lips. "Mi Amour, breathe." Directs Lark, voice deeper, quieter than before. Involuntarily, Nick gasps for another breath, his inhaler sprays medicine into his throat. The mouthpiece is ripped from his mouth and is immediately replaced with a hand covering his mouth and nose. "Easy. Hold it. Relax" Instructs Lark in his ear. Larks hand stays smothering him for a few seconds until Nick pulls at his wrist.

Nick let's out a short exhale before gasping in air again, again, again. Lark shoves the inhaler in his mouth once more and decompresses it. This time, Nick can hold his breath for longer, silently begging his lungs to accept the medicine. Lark must decide he doesn't need smothered again, because his right hand remains gripping the inhaler, with the other pressed against Nicks chest right above his heart.

The pain in his legs ebbs out of existence, and with it goes the tightness in his chest. Only when Nick can think about things other than breathing does he notice they are on the ground. Nick sits between Larks legs, his back against his chest. Lark is rocking them slightly, humming an old lullaby, his grip on Nick never wavers. Nick leans he had back against Larks shoulder before muttering an apology about the sweat.

Sparrow clears his throat in the doorway, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. "I'm not a doctor, but I'm pretty sure that's not how you're supposed to use an inhaler in an emergency." Nick smiles weakly, collapsing even further into Lark. Lark flips Sparrow the bird who just chuckles at the two. “Maybe next time don’t jump out a second floor window without being prepared for impact, okay Nick?” Nick hums in agreement. He doesn’t have the energy to say that he hadn’t had a choice. He was too spent to open a portal to Hell and the acolyte was going right for him.

“Save it for the debrief, Sparrow.” Chides Lark, brushing Nicks hair back from where it was stuck to his forehead. “We’re gonna need a long rest after that fight.”

Sparrow nods his head in agreement. “I’m exhausted, I can’t help your asthma until I rest. Let me know if it’s still bothering you tomorrow. I’ll meet you guys in the conference room at 0800.” He walks out without waiting for a response.

[nyxokal]

It's so fucked up how when you grow up needing to carefully read people's emotions to avoid trouble and possible psychological harm you end up like. You enter a room and Immediately can tell that the vibes are rancid. Everyone seems to be normal and going about their days, nobody's saying anything, but you're like oh based on This Type Of Silence and the way they're moving and straight up just some fucked up supernatural shit like the way the air feels like Ooze, this one bitch is one bad entonation of a word away from telling me to go kill myself huh. I better make myself as small as possible and not even make noise when I sneeze

And like how do you even explain this to someone not trained from childhood to perceive these things. It's like when cats can sense earthquakes. It's like in movies when birds fly away when a disaster is happening. It's the world's shittiest superpower and I don't wanna have it

[enkisstories]

*chirp, chirp*

*splash, splash*

Archex: "Seriously now, "little brother", I was an instructor for years. But never ever did I feel the need to beat or so much as smack one of my child cadets. Not even the most defiant ones. There was always a way... with patience and empathy.

The fact that Brendol had to resort to beating the living daylights out of you tells me all there is to know about you. Maybe if he hadn't stopped, you'd turned out decent, after all."

Rose: "No, that tells you everything there was to know about Brendol!"

Archex: "Of course you'd say so, after brother dear fed you his sob story. But Brendol took me in, a runaway mining slave, when the New Republic turned a blind eye to the suffering of everyone but the already well-dressed taxpayers."

Archex (to Armitage): "But you, you murdered him... Taking a life is no proportionate reaction to even the shittiest parenting! You're a killer, plain and simple!"

Rose: "That's the exact fucking point! He gave up, and in to darkness! And now all we can do is mitigate the damage he causes.

Maybe YOU could have avoided getting corrupted if you’d been in Armitage’s place. But maintaining a good heart in the face of empire-level of inhumane treatment shouldn’t be our benchmark. Few people can do that, should we condemn everyone else?

The world I’m trying to build isn't handed out to the already strong of will as some sort of prize. It's purpose is to provide a fence to be safe within. A galaxy-wide Cerea!"

Archex: "Ouch. You almost had me, but that last one sounds terrifying."

Rose: "Oh, right. As a defector, you'd been on Cerea, too. Expressive dance exercise?"

Archex: "Expressive dance torture, yep.They really make you work for your redemption. But there's a tree close to the cure home. Wild birds like to nest in there and..."

Rose: "...there's a hive to steal honey from."

Archex: "Coach Ni said I had the manners of a nerf herder, whenever I returned with my hands in my pockets. But in truth that was to hide the fact that they were sticky from the honey."

Armitage: "Way ahead of you! WE baked honey cake!"

[amaritheartist]

FATHER DEMARIOUS?

STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING FATHER DEMARIOUS SKY DAMN FOOL MAGIC COLLECTING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT AVATAR OF THE WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING FATHER DEMARIOUS

STOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT FATHER DEMARIOUS I HATE HIM SO MUCH WHY DOES HE HAVE SO MANY FUCKED UP FOLLOWERS WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT JUST SET THEM LOOSE IS HE DEAD IS HE A BASTARD MAN HAS SUCH A VISCERAL AFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM NEVER SEEN THIS MANS FACE AND I KNOW HE HAS THE WORLDS SHITTIEST HAIR GET AWAY FROM ME

if i wanted to get into the celestial city and sun said father demarious is waiting inside i would piss on suns feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down

if i have to deal with father demarious speaking one word in person on page in book not only will i close the book i will remove my bookmark out of spite and have to reread the entire story again for the experience of being able to skip all the times when he is mentioned or alive

i dont even know why i hate him so much. he collects magic but i am just mad because i am angy

he better have some fucked up backstory to explain this if hes just some rich shithead whos a fan of the traitor and wanted the modern version ill go ham

BETTER have had an amulet make him kill a man cuz if he didnt Im going to make him

paypal.com/IFuckingHateFatherDemarious

episodes not even about him. vaguely mentioned what is supposed to maybe be his cult and I lost it

where the fuck is father demarious if hes still alive im going to so deeply wish he wasnt

crusty old man

ill punch demarious and his sad frail bird man twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until all thats left is one final amulet he kept on him at all times simply engraved Now You Fucked Up in ancient idoven

im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point

i hope theres a date given for when demarious died or will die so i can make it a reminder on my phone

everyday once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the man who had so many fucked up if fulfilled plans