#...welllllll

[inkskinned]

i'm a little afraid to go to pride this year. many of us are, a little. sitting around our tapas and video games, the silence that hangs over the discord server. it feels different, we say.

we're privileged. the community that came before us laid the groundwork so i could be raised in a different world, and i will never forget their sacrifices and dedication. they gave us this: a pride that feels like community and celebration and joy. i remember the first few times i went to a queer event - i'd been raised so catholic. feeling safe like that, for the first time... it saved my life. i go to pride to celebrate that feeling - my people, laughing. out in the sun, the way we couldn't have been even 25 years ago. that feeling: no wonder we call it "pride."

who am i to be afraid anyway. there are parts of the world where people are doing much better work than i am. but it's just: i felt at home there, you know? and this year feels different. we are waiting on the dam to break. last year, at boston pride, there was a whole gaggle of sign-holders shouting about jesus. you walk around them and try not to let it get to you.

this year, i'm going to DC's pride with my girlfriend. google sends me concerns about if it's safe to exist in trump's america, if World Pride is a bigass target on all of us. every article uses the words "safety concerns" many, many times. three days ago i witnessed a shooting.

even straight people keep telling me - people are weird lately. sometimes we blame it on Covid and sometimes we blame it on the full moon. but i do remember a time before this, right. it's not just that people are more comfortable being rude. it's this strange, outwards violence. a comfort in being cruel.

it's a big hole to fall down anyway. it's not like they're going to do anything to make pride safe, not really. i don't want a police presence as the solution. and what if this is just fearmongering! what if this is just to get us to stop attending our own events! what if everything is actually fine, and i'm just freaked out by the stated intentions of our president!

and what if i'm just listening to things that are being said. what if i'm weighing the shape and size of this america accurately.

my mother calls me. she's been getting the articles too. i assure her i'll be careful, but i put the phone down and stare at it. i'm going to go to pride. other people made it safe for me, it is my duty and my honor to show up for my community. the only thing we've ever had was each other. it was always an act of bravery. being ourselves is brave.

but i am afraid. i lay out my outfit and i kiss my girlfriend. i cut my nails and clean up my undercut. i hold her hand and hang the sunset flag. the sound of this america feels different. like a volcano trembling. i will love her and i will love being queer and i will sing over the noise of it.

but ... still. in the back of my mind. that feeling, like something terrible has been shifted. like somewhere in the night - they remembered we're different.

[yrsonpurpose]

Numbers on me being into dudes? Seventy-eight percent probability of latent bisexual tendencies.

[anticidic]

The Flags all just standing there after Chuuya storms out, knowing he'd come back to play pool with them 😭 and Chuuya's lil pouty face

[transformrobots]

comic 11 - credit collect

04-13-2025

[milkamel]

Are there any facts regarding the Slumbering truth? I'm quite interested. How did Shadow treat Healer after realizing that he is getting attached?

Hmm I should start from the beginning here I think-

At first Shadow Milk was far from being nice towards Healer, treating him like entertainment and a toy, wishing to break him down or just venting out his frustrations (basically veeery toxic, poor Healer). Cause hey, this is someone who 'stole' his soul jam. And now this 'thief' is pathetic, weak and without memories, it'd be a shame to just crumble him or not play around with his prey. And Smilk still needs PV's memories back to have full powers, but he doesn't want to do it the boring way. He wants to see what his other half is capable of even in this weak state.

But of course, he got attached. Healer has struck something within him that no one dared to touch before, they had some things in common, Smilk started to see himself in that sweet Healer. And Healer started to act a bit differently too, instead of fearing him he'd smile at him, talk to him with genuine friendliness and even playfully smacked him with a staff a few times when he tried to intimidate him, the audacity! The lack of fear or blind obedience intrigued Shadow Milk until he realized he didn't even want that power so much, he liked Healer's company even if he found his kindness naive and foolish. He liked Healer a lot more than he dared to admit.

He didn't want Healer to regain his memories anymore. He didn't need the soul jam that much, his own half was more than enough to use his powers. After all if Healer remembered he'd surely leave him and he'd find out what a terrible beast Shadow Milk was. There's no way he'd be so kind after that and would be willing to stay, he'd most likely try to seal Shadow Milk away again and Smilk would be stuck for another millenia again. And Smilk already shared way too much about himself than the other should've known.

So he decided to act in the only way he knew, manipulate Healer into staying, trying to make sure Healer avoided anything that could trigger him to remember or make his soul jam resonate. He'd manipulate his current memories, make his dreams into nightmares just in hopes of making him stay. It should've been easy with how vulnerable Healer was to his influence.

..Unless Healer is not so innocent and oblivious as it might seem? Who knows..

[phonkscribes]

Even if you don't think so.

@mamster-gagglebucks has sent a letter:

Hey, first off I love your writing so dearly, it's wonderful! I have a question and possible trope. I read what Dante, Virgil, and Nero would do if they were with a chubby lover, and how they would react if someone else insulted them for their weight. But what would they do if the one insulting their weight is themself? Like their lover with insecurities that leads them to belittling or putting their own body down? How would they respond?

Terribly sorry for the belated response to this, nearly a year since you first put in the request, but here she comes: a sequel to The More to Love. Crazy to think that it also been a year since that post came out way back in October. Regardless, please enjoy the boys comforting their chubby lover.

Dante

He isn’t a stranger to being concerned with the way he looks. Just human enough to pass, but if you looked, really looked at him you’d see it… the demon inside. He was worried you’d be scared of that when the two of you started dating. Truth be told, he was ready to embrace the frightened look he’d inevitably see in your eyes when he’d have to trigger his devil form. The fiery red scales and the inferno broiling around him deterred lesser demons, but they didn’t scare you. You, in all of your beauty and grace, held his face in your hands after the threat was dealt with. You called him pretty. Pretty! And just like that, his doubts were washed away, gone to the wind when he picked you up into his arms. 

So why was it that you could accept that part of him– every part of him–, but not yourself? Why were you so mean to… to you? 

The way you put yourself down in front of him irks him because how could anyone think such nasty things? I’m too fat, you said, I’d be prettier if I weren’t… and you, you deserve to be with someone who isn’t– 

“Who isn’t… what? So charming? So… sexy?”, he chimed in, getting in the way of your words. It’s all bullshit. He wouldn’t stand for it, and neither should you(even if you’re talking about yourself here.) 

“I don’t get what the issue is here”, he did, but this was something you needed to hear. You needed to know that he didn’t care about your weight or how you looked. You didn’t care about how he looked. 

Before you know it, he’s taken your hands into his own, looking at you with those pretty eyes of his. The eyes you adore. The eyes that bear down on you with nothing but adoration. 

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re fine just as you are. Got that?”, his voice comes out in that hushed little drawl, just for you. 

Dante’s thumbs brush over your hands as he lets go of them to hold your face. 

“But…–”

“No buts!”, he declares, moving closer to wrap his arms around your form. 

His hands are gentle as they are possessive as they coil around you. He’s warm. In the warmth of his embrace, does he give you an appreciative squeeze, leaning his head down to kiss the top of your head. 

“... but if you do want help with that, I’d be more than willing to lend ya hand. We can eat healthier… and exercise, if that’s what you want”

If there were any tears or quiet sobs in the silence, he waits to hear your response. Or, at the very least, wait for you to bring your arms around him. 

“... okay”, you sniffle, “Thank you, Dante”, you smile into his shoulder. 

He has to bite his tongue, only because you’re so damn cute.

Vergil

He can’t understand why this would possibly ever be a problem, or how you could think such things about your body. If it wasn’t causing you any physical discomfort, what was the issue here? Why would he think you’re unattractive because you’re plump? Quickly, before any other more insults towards yourself can leave your mouth, he cuts you off. 

“That is enough”, he’s frowning, but that’s his usual expression. It’s not a matter of what he thinks, but a matter of what you think and how you perceive yourself. Of which is not to his liking, it would not be the first time you’ve said something he did not agree with. 

“If you’re unhappy with the way that you look, then we can change it, but I don’t ever want to hear you say such things about yourself again”, his gaze is cast elsewhere for a moment before he reaches out to you. Tentative, allowing you the choice of whether you want to move into him or not. 

It’s not threatening you, is it? Another thought that comes to mind is if someone else has said something about your weight to you… perhaps a family member or acquaintance of some sort. He doesn’t know to what extent you’ve endured such negativity about yourself for, but he’ll be damned if he’ll let you suffer it for any longer. You aren’t too much of anything, not to him. You’re you, and if there is anything that’s right in this god forsaken world, then it would be you. Not what anyone else thinks, or even what he thinks for that matter. 

“Do you really believe that?”, he asks, his brow furrowing as his gaze finds you again. 

Do you really think those things about yourself? 

“... What if I can’t keep up with you, what if I weigh you down? I don’t want to be… I don’t want to be a burden to you”, are the words you say to him. 

Oh how it burns. How it hurts to hear you think that you could ever be that to him. 

“You never have been, you never will be… regardless of whatever form or shape you are”, he brushes your cheek with the pad of his thumb. That cold stare has thawed, becoming like gentle snow as it catches you. 

The relief that washes over you when you hear his words is a balm to the weariness that plagues you. You tried to brace yourself for his rejection, expecting it to come with an easy or reluctant dismissal, but it never came. His reassurance, his vow, it’s almost overwhelming. Yet he is unyielding, as he ever is. Vergil presses his forehead against yours, letting you cry to get it out of your system. He is here, and here he shall always be, even if you think he ‘deserves’ better or if you’re unsatisfied with yourself. 

He was unsatisfied with himself at one point.

Nero

“What are you talking about..?”, it catches him off guard when he sees you so crestfallen in front of a mirror. 

You had been holding your stomach, gritting your teeth together as you started to list off all the things you thought was wrong with yourself. Always hungry, too pudgy, not enough. Before you can continue he’s already walking closer to you, both hands raised, not that you wanted him to leave or to back off. 

“Woah, woah, woah– stop that… You’re… you’re not too fat for me”, you could hear the waver in his tone, the dip in his voice when he said ‘fat’. Like a puppy whining, as if he had been the one to be scolded. 

Nero tried to figure out what to do with his hands, until they reached to settle on yours. He didn’t pull them away from yourself, but he seemed to be trying to figure out what was wrong. His eyes were searching yours, hoping to find an answer in the depths of them, through the tears and the red puff as you cried. 

“Where is this coming from?”, you hadn’t ever… he didn’t think this would be something you’d be hung up on. “Listen to me, you’re not too fat and being fat doesn’t make you ugly or unattractive at all. I like you like this”, he says quickly, before his hands move up to cup your cheeks. His thumbs brush under your eyes to wipe away the tears as you stand there, hiccuping your breaths, trying to keep it in. 

“Come on, breathe… it’s okay to cry- was it something I said?”, he asks, one brow cocked in concern as he tries to think back on if he had ever mentioned anything about your weight. He could be such an idiot sometimes, and he hoped that he hadn’t made an off handed comment that could’ve spurred you to take it out on yourself, but you had shook your head. 

“You didn’t say anything, Nero…”, you managed when you had started to take breaths for yourself. 

He almost let out a sigh of relief, but you were still upset, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it. Really, what… or who, made you cry? Who made you think such awful things about yourself? 

“So why are you… who put all of those dumb thoughts in your head then?”, he asks. 

Who hadn’t? With all the skepticism, all the judgement made on your figure… it was hard to pinpoint where it all began, if not when. When you calm down a bit more, you look into the blue of his eyes, wanting to hear it from him again. 

“Did you really mean that, earlier… when you said you like me like this?”, you ask. 

“Every bit”, he nods, going to kiss your forehead, “And there’s nothing that can ever change that”

[shineemoon]

250507 ONEW CONCERT [ONEW THE LIVE : CONNECTION] in SAN FRANCISCO

[beckyblah]

POV: You're Edward Twilight

[i-may-be-an-emu]

tiktok has this AMAZING feature where if you misclick on someone’s story it ruins your life 🥰 (/j)

[myshollow]

The context of this is related to a potential issue where Pops takes the guys to a fancy joint and then it goes terribly so they all vibe at the snack bar afterwards. Hence the "formal" outfits. Gonna explain the outfits a bit and also the context behind some of the dynamics here down below:

All formal outfits are different from the show excepttt for kinda Benson and Muscle Man's. Benson has the outfit he only wore once in Trucker Hall of Fame, but I really liked the colors, it looks like a BUM ASS OLD MAN TUXEDO, so I thought I'd just make it his actual tuxedo. And Muscle Man has his outfit from Big Winner cause it's just immaculate.

Skips just has a more casual outfit akin to his late 1700's look, Rigby just has a tie on like his brother (I heavily doubt he'd want to wear a tux period), and Mordecai's wearing a blazer (cause he probably wouldn't want a full on tux either). HFG just has a silly little bowtie and Pops is fr actually decked in fancy wear. Its almost like it's his forte or something...huh.

Something that will happen in Reimagined Show is more emphasis on unique dynamics among the park crew. Between Muscle Man and Benson, they get along well overall bc while Muscle Man's..a lot, he gets the JOB DONE. Making for the two to respect each other and have their differences contrast nicely. Kind of a middle ground between the Skips/Benson dynamic and the Mordecai/Benson dynamic. Also I imagine they have fun hanging out together, Muscle Man helps bring out Benson's silly silly side more efficiently. They're probably talking about their gfs here...🤝big buff women lover🤝

Mordecai and HFG are good for each other in a way that they're the only two who have a social clock so to speak (though HFG WAY MORE). In the context here, HFG got worn out from all the events of the night, but feels bad cause he and Mordecai were actually getting to talk one and one (something that's basically never happened before) and getting along. Mordecai's basically the only other guy here who understands how he's feeling due to his low-key social awkwardness, thus helping HFG feel more comfortable. They're just okay chilling in silence together..it's a nice change of pace for both of them.

Pops is kinda upset that they basically got kicked out of the joint, so Rigby secretly tries to make him feel better by asking about fanciness....lil bro doesn't understand any of it and is bored as hell but he listens anyway. Skips is amused cause he knows what Rigby's doing, but really appreciates him caring about Pops like that. Silly silly guys.

[lunarmothim]

safehouse - simon riley x reader.

You don't need to know how to read him to understand what you're seeing in his eyes, the dark edge of want that makes your breath catch in your throat. He must see it in yours too because he takes all of two seconds to roll his mask up to his nose, dipping his head to kiss you.

word count: 1.6k tags/warnings: smut my dudes. barely foreplay, just a quick crack of the pressure valve. afab reader. piv, brief oral (m receiving).

The safehouse is quiet. Dark and cold, the air conditioning unexpected after the wet, swampy humidity of the air outside. You won't complain, anywhere to lay your head and all. It's better than nothing.

"Exfil is twelve hours out," Ghost tells you, his voice a low growl as he drops his pack on the threadbare couch.

"Okay," you reply simply, dropping your own pack on the tiny kitchen island, digging out a couple of MREs. You toss one to him before hopping up to sit on the counter, ripping the package open with your teeth. Your canteen thuds onto the laminate beside you, half-empty. The first bite of the meal- chicken and dumplings, you think- is about as awful as you'd expected, and you can't help but make a face. You'll eat it anyway, but you won't enjoy it. You wonder what you'd given him.

Your eyes track over him, searching for injuries now that you have half a second to breathe. "You broken?"

"Solid," he answers, dropping onto the couch next to his pack. He doesn't look up at you, entirely focused on the brown packaging of the MRE you'd thrown his way. "You?"

"Solid," you echo, taking another bite. You hadn't been so sure there for a minute- things had gone tits up not long after you'd landed, your stealth infil clearly not as stealthy as you'd planned for. But you'd come out of it in one piece, mostly. Surprisingly. "They knew we were coming."

"They did." The empty package crackles slightly when he crumples it in one fist, eyes searching the room for a trash can. You almost envy him for the way he can inhale an MRE, like the taste of them doesn't bother him. "Problem for another day. We'll get outta here, regroup. Go from there."

"Hate this." You can't help the way your voice cracks slightly on the words, looking down into the package still in your hands. You don't feel so hungry anymore. "Konni always seems to be one step ahead of us. Like they're mockin' us."

"They are." Ghost says it so simply it makes you feel sick. You reach behind you to drop your MRE packet into the sink, unable to stomach it anymore. You hear his body shift, the creak of the floorboards followed by heavy footsteps, purposefully loud. He stops in front of you, and you inhale sharply when his gloved knuckles nudge under your jaw, tipping your head back until you meet his eyes. "We'll get 'em anyway."

"You sound so sure about that," you breathe, staring up at him. His eyes are dark, unreadable. As someone who wears your heart on your sleeve, you almost envy that about him. His ability to keep it close, to compartmentalize. "We haven't yet."

"But we will." His hand shifts, fingers curling around your jaw. His hold is loose, his eyes boring into yours. Calm. Sure. He sighs, and your eyes close when he tilts forward, resting his forehead against yours. It's the last thing you're expecting, but it feels nice. "We have to. Too much at stake if we don't."

"I know." Your hand curls around his wrist, fingers shaking. It's as close as either of you can get to a promise that everything will be okay.

You stay there like that for a long minute, just breathing each other in. Quiet reassurance. It's not enough, but it'll do for now.

He murmurs your name under his breath, fingers flexing around your jaw, and you open your eyes to meet his. He's staring right back at you, so close you can't tell if it's your heartbeat or his you can hear pounding in your ears. The edge of his skull plate digs into your forehead, indenting the bridge of your nose.

You don't need to know how to read him to understand what you're seeing in his eyes, the dark edge of want that makes your breath catch in your throat. He must see it in yours too because he takes all of two seconds to roll his mask up to his nose, dipping his head to kiss you.

He clearly didn't think it through, though, the skull sewn to the balaclava bumping awkwardly into your nose.

"Fuckin' hell," he mutters, voice a low growl of annoyance that has you giggling. He reaches up, ripping the mask off his head without a second thought before coming back in to kiss you again. You don't expect it, but he doesn't give you a chance to think about it- not when he's singularly focused on yanking your tac pants down your legs, leaving them dangling around one ankle. Your left boot is gone, chucked somewhere across the room, and you can't help a gasp when he practically scruffs you, keeping your head exactly where he wants it while he devours your mouth.

If it's meant to distract you from his hand between your thighs he's not doing a very good job. You're very focused on his fingers, the perfunctory way they drag through slick folds, the barest hint of his thumb teasing against your clit. It's a promise of exactly what this is going to be- something quick and rough, a pressure valve in desperate need of cracking, driven by adrenaline and pent up energy. He's not going to take his time with you, he's not going to build you up and drag you over the edge, you might get one orgasm out of this if you're lucky. It's fine is a surprising thought to have, but you need this just as badly as he does, if you're honest, and if quick and dirty is all he's gonna give you, you'll take it without complaint.

You groan into his mouth, low and filthy, when his first finger slides in to the first knuckle, bucking into his hand. The second has you keening, thick and scissoring you apart in a way that has you wondering just what it is he's packing- it's still not much but it's more preparation than you're used to, thick digits working you open. He grunts at the sting of your teeth sinking into his neck, fingers crooking in a way that has your eyes rolling back, the fingers of his free hand tattooing his prints into your hip.

"That's it," he hisses into your throat, dragging a soft gasp out of you when he pulls his hand away, lining himself up at your entrance. His fingers press wet into your thigh, slick with your arousal, and you choke at the first prod of him, thick and hard and endless. "Good girl, good fuckin' girl-"

When he bottoms out you're sure you've died. That's the only explanation for how you feel right now, split open and so fuckin' full. He's pressed so deep you feel him in your throat, the vibrato of his voice rumbling against your shoulder when you drag your nails down his back. You're not entirely sure God is real but you pray to Her all the same when Ghost draws back and punches right back into you so hard it hurts.

"Fuck," you choke out, voice raw and broken, clutching at him like he's your only lifeline. He groans when your nails dig bloody crescents into his shoulders, a noise you swallow greedily when he finds your mouth again, the taste of tobacco and the MRE heavy on his tongue. You suck his lower lip between your teeth and revel in the way blunted fingernails bite into your ass cheek, dragging you closer. You think you hear the sound of the radio in the background, someone checking in, but you can't bring yourself to care right now, not when Ghost is splitting you in half around him.

"Not gonna last," he growls into your mouth, dragging a raw cry out of you when he drives into your cervix, painful and bruising. His hips stutter when you clench around him in response. "Fuck. Fuck, you feel so fuckin' good-"

"Gonna come for me?" you croak it out between ragged breaths, ruined by the way your voice pitches up. He shudders all the same. Your nails bite into his neck, digging in to the arc of your teeth impressed into his skin. Your eyes meet his, holding his half-lidded gaze, pupils blown wide. "C'mon, want you to come-"

You've barely tipped over yourself before he's ripping away from you. You can't help a startled yelp when he suddenly yanks you down off the counter, your knees slamming into the floor with enough force to bruise. He's quick to silence you with his cock- he doesn't seem to care much when you gag around him, burying himself to release down your throat.

Your palms hit the floor when he releases you, sucking in a ragged breath. You can still taste him, thick and salty, can feel the weight of him on your tongue. You look up at him, hazy through the sheen of tears in your eyes, and the way you see him looking back at you… fuck, you're not expecting that, his vulnerability on full display across his exposed face. Dark eyes peer down into yours, his mouth stretched into a thin line. Every scar is on display, the nose you've imagined buried between your thighs as crooked as you'd expected.

You want more. Fuck, you want more.

You know you won't get it. Not when the radio crackles again and he steps back, the metaphorical mask already back in place even while the physical one still sits on the counter behind you. This had been a one-off, pressure relief.

And you'll just have to be okay with that.

mdni banner by @/cafekitsune line divider by @/gildui

[howbrightthemoon]

she is beauty she is grace

[blackbloodedisabel]

not to be the neek who brings niche big finish audios into it but. here are our 3 4 ranis <3

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I actually like Malleus quite a bit but to be fair his fans (not all of course but some of them) makes it hard to like him sometimes because it feels like they are forcing you to like him.

The thing with Malleus is it's either players that love him to a scary degree and players who hate him to also a scary degree which makes him an overwhelming character for me like I would have liked him more if I wasn't in the fandom.

He is treated way differently by the fandom (mainly the En) then other characters.

Like for example I see the players who dislike Leona publicly rarely get harassed unlike the ones who dislike Malleus.

Aaaaah 💦 For better or for worse, Malleus is a character that gets “special” treatment, both in-universe (OP, crown prince, etc.) and in the fandom. I don’t think you’d be the first to notice that.

I’ve heard way too many horror stories about run-ins with Malleus fans from my friends (though like Anon said, not ALL Malleus fans are like this, just a loud minority of them). I’ve also had my own unpleasant experience being anonymously harassed for over a year just for expressing the reasons why I don’t like him. All you need say is “I don’t like him”, and it tends to summon a few very strongly opinionated fans to defend him, to argue with you, or to insult your intelligence. They are also quick to defend any potentially morally grey action he takes, often dismissing it by redirecting blame or pointing to a sad aspect of his backstory to excuse him. It feels there’s a social pressure to like him or to protect him, even if it’s not always overtly stated.

I’m not exactly sure why this is seemingly a recurring issue when it comes to him specifically, though I’ve certainly speculated on the matter. I don’t think they realize that them acting this way only exacerbates things. People are not going to consider liking Malleus (or, if they do like him, they may feel ashamed of it) because of these extreme fans.

Then there’s the other side, the Malleus haters. I’m not sure what started this collective, but it feels like they may have formed as a countermeasure or in response to the intense Malleus lovers?? But this other extreme isn’t a great alternative. The language they use can also be needlessly hostile towards him, and there are some who seem to attribute every bad thing that happens to Malleus even when he genuinely had no hand in it. It can get very uncomfortable to read some of the vile things said over a fictional character.

And then I think the Malleus haters end up making the Malleus lovers feel like they/their boy is being attacked… so they retaliate… and it perpetuates a vicious back-and-forth. You end up being caught in-between the two and getting stressed out over it. One notable example is the debate on who is "responsible" for the dreams. It can’t be easy being caught in those crossfires 😔

Malleus has become a pretty popular character in JP recently (like, the latter half of book 7), but not to the same heights as what we see in EN (he’s not consistently placing #1 like he is in EN, more like 7ish in JP now?). However, I haven’t seen anything nasty from the Malleus fans over there. That’s probably because JP fandom is much stricter with fandom etiquette and don’t exert their own opinions on fans who disagree with them; they see something they don’t like? They just ignore it or block and move on. I really with EN fans could take a page out of JP fans’ books; the fandom would be a lot more peaceful that way.

I’m sure there are fans that take these extremes for every character (I have encountered something in this vein for Twst characters from every other dorm). They’re just less frequently seen because there are fewer fans of them compared to the sheer number of fans for Malleus.

I really sympathize with you 💦💦 It feels stressful to say you don’t like Malleus, and it also feels stressful to say you do like Malleus. There’s always that fear of Malleus lovers coming for the former, and Malleus haters coming for the latter. No happy medium…

[themissingmango]

Inspired by IWTBY on ao3, written by @hangmanbradshaw 💕🏈 Bradley + Jake dressed up as Jed/Octavius for Halloween! I’m doing a re-read and couldn’t help myself, they’re so soft 🥹

[toxooz]

told the employer that ive been drawing online to pay the bills and when he asked what i drew i accidentally hit him with this look