#and either can be foolish

[shadow--writer]

Hello hello! Could I get a “Inaction is wisdom. I left off being wise.” for Meave and Miloš? heheheheh >:)

I present to you on a silver platter some Maeve falling for Miloš, like a hopeless romantic she is tehehe <3 I am still rotating them in my mind, my sillys <3 <3 1.1k

~~

When she woke with a start she noticed her skin was clammy. The tendrils of her dream were still clinging onto her, like a fog over the ocean. Her heart raced in its panic as she took in her surroundings. Her things were strewn about with loose articles of clothing tossed over the furniture in haste. The moonlight lit it up in a soft silver glow, the surroundings becoming comfortable and familiar once more. 

She sighed, rubbing her cheeks with her palms, trying to shake her achy feelings and ignore how her hands trembled as they touched cool skin. She could still smell seared flesh, see how it bubbled and remember how it felt under her touch. Hear the screams turning into bloody gurgles, the way the room burned. 

A soft snore tore her out of her thoughts, and she was grateful for the distraction.  

She’d almost forgotten about the man in her bed, curled around some of her pillows, sleeping with his lips parted ever so slightly. 

Miloš looked so sweet like this, the crease between his brows all smoothed out. He looked so much…younger, when he was sleeping. He carried the weight of his world on his shoulders, she could only assume how heavy of a burden it was, especially knowing her own. But sleeping like this? Surrounded by her comforts and near luxury that she spent years cultivating because she had a soft spot for anything soft and plush?

He was so…normal. Soft. 

She caressed his cheek with the backs of her fingers, shifting to rub the puckered skin and stretch marks with the pads of her fingers. His nose twitched at the touch, but he settled into it as much as a sleeping man could. 

He was beautiful drenched in the soft moonlight, all dreamlike and soft. 

It was so…human of him. Sleeping with his mouth open and snoring softly. Seeking out the warmth of her body from her place in the mattress, subconsciously. He cuddled into her legs, still snoring softly. 

Sitting there, watching him sleep, she was suddenly overcome with this…strange intense sort of affection for him. She could stay like this with him all the time and she would be happy, she thought. It was a sweet thing, to be let into something so small yet so intimate like this. 

His eyes fluttered under their lids. She pushed his hair away from his face, trying to memorize the way his cheeks sloped into the softness of his lips.

She wished they could stay in this little bubble of their own creation forever. She was finally starting to feel cold again, goosebumps erupting along her bare skin. His nose wrinkled. Her hair fell over her bare shoulder in knotted waves, still caressing his temple with her knuckles. 

Yes, it would be lovely to stay here, tucked away from the horrors of the world and the weight on their shoulders. 

Her hands moved to his hair now, scratching soft circles into his scalp. His nose smoothed out and he let out a tiny snort, humming a tad. He was a very vocal sleeper, she thought to herself with a small smile. It only aided the budding feeling in her chest. 

She bent over to kiss his forehead, whispering something softly to his skin. She wormed her way back under the covers again, tucking one of her arms under his shoulder, warmth seeping into her veins at the way he instantly attached himself to her side. His face tucked itself into the crook of her neck, sighing softly into the clammy skin. 

She pulled the covers up higher, staring at the gauzy fabric that shielded her bed from much of the world. 

She thought she could love him, blushing at the thought. It was hard to say, their relationship being a…complicated one. From lingering looks at work, to stolen kisses in the back of the library, to stumbling trysts in her skeleton of a practice. 

Would he want to feel that way about her if he knew what she had done to someone she had loved once? Was her love forever tainted by that moment? Would it happen again?

She thought of bubbling skin and burbly sobs. To curtains set ablaze and a broken vase by her feet. To the blood that had run down her face. 

She didn’t want this love to be like that, she wanted something new, something different. He already felt different, shyer, sweeter. Less like the monsters from her past and more…human. A stumbling, bumbling human.

She knew he had something to hide as well and it was there in her bed, the light of a hazy dawn shining through her windows that she realized that she didn’t…care. She just knew she wanted him here, now, and mistakes of the past wouldn’t change that. 

She kissed his exposed temple. 

“I killed my past love,” she whispered to him. “I burnt his face after he threw a vase at me, and I set his house on fire. I murdered him and I liked it.” Her chest grew tight and the words kept spilling out of her mouth. “I would do it again if I had the chance. To watch the life drain out of his eyes.” A shuddering breath. “Would that change things for you?” For them? 

He didn’t respond, unsurprisingly. Just shifted closer, mumbling something from his dream into the slope of her neck. Her smile was soft, just lifting her lips at their corners. 

“I want to love you,” she murmured after another moment, pressing another kiss to his head. “Would you like that if I did? Would you love me in return?” She didn’t know if she wanted to hear his answer, grateful that he was a deeper sleeper. “I don’t know why I am asking you this like you can hold a conversation,” she said with a light laugh. “It’s all rather silly, isn’t it? I should try to go back to sleep.”

She pursed her lips. “I see him in my dreams. It makes me wonder if I killed him after all. I don’t know what would happen to me if I didn’t.” Anxiety made home in her ribs. “I hope he’s dead.”

He had to leave in the morning and she didn’t want to watch him go. She pressed a kiss to his hair again, still scratching at the base of his scalp. She was being foolish, and silly. She was a stupid silly girl, murmuring sweet nothings to a sleeping man. Confessing her sins to him like he was a Shrouded Priest and she was a lowly sinner. 

He looked holy in the light of the incoming sunrise. 

She settled onto her pillows, eyes fluttering closed. She swore she dreamt soft kisses to her neck and the softness of words, too lost in a drowsy haze. 

She almost hoped he heard what she had to say.

[a-most-beloved-fool]

For the ask prompt game...

Spirk #17 to distract

"Report," Kirk ordered. The word buzzed low against Spock's ear, quiet and audibly tense.

"Less than two minutes until they reach our location, Captain," Spock replied promptly. "Commander Scott will need at least another eight before the transporter is operable again." His voice was equally hush, despite their perceived solitude. He had seen carelessness take far too many lives during his time in Starfleet; he would not allow it to take his captain as well - and, illogically, Spock could not quite dispense of the phantom sensation of eyes on the back of his neck.

"We'll need to bluff it," Kirk decided, looking grim.

His gaze was strangely intense against Spock, full of rioting emotion, and, almost, Spock wished to look away. He did not. Instead, he nodded, holding steady eye contact.

The odds, Spock knew, that Kirk's gambit - whatever it may be - would succeed were... poor. The guards had, after all, seen their faces. But Kirk would keep fighting right until the bitter end, and Spock, of course, would be right beside him.

Solemn, he vowed, "I shall follow your lead," though he knew Kirk would not have doubted it. Still, the unnecessary words were well worth the way the tension around Kirk's eyes melted away, the somber set of his mouth slipping instead into a golden-edged smile.

Almost wonderingly, a soft chuckle fell from those lips, incongruous in their surroundings and entirely treasured. "What would I do without you?" Kirk asked, reaching up to exert gentle pressure on Spock's bicep.

I pray you never need find out, Spock made to say, getting only so far as drawing in breath before the sound of distant footsteps drew them both from their quiet moment, snuffing the words before they could take shape. "Eighteen seconds," he said instead, after rapidly adjusting his calculations. Faster than anticipated.

Kirk nodded, some unreadable emotion hiding in the soft crease between his brows.

"Forgive me, Mr. Spock," Kirk said softly, and Spock did not have time to question what he meant before Kirk was pulling him down by his shirt, dragging their lips together with great urgency.

Quite suddenly, Spock found that his mind was entirely blank. Strange heat flickered through his whole form, and his universe narrowed to only Kirk, all soft and human-warm, who was pressed flush to his chest and kissing him.

One, then two seconds stuttered by in which Spock thought no thoughts at all, struck utterly motionless in the face of such unexpected attentions. He only felt, swept away by the sensation of pliant lips against his own and warm fingers stroking through his hair, gently mussing.

The very first thought to break to the surface was simply, Jim. A wave of emotion flooded in with it, astonishment and affection sweeping over him in such quantities that he felt nearly lightheaded.

The second was, We will be caught, and Spock jolted as something near to panic rose up inside his gullet, urging him to take Jim into his arms and run.

The third, however, was not his own; it was pressed into his katra from the outside by Jim's careful fingers, his clever mind slipping easily past Spock's shields. Play along, he said, projecting deliberate calm through their connection. Still, Jim was unpracticed in telepathic arts, and beneath that false serenity Spock could feel a tangle of guilt and determination, bitter and writhing.

The truth came to Spock in one fell swoop.

Jim's gambit... was this.

His lips and his hands, which pressed themselves so tenderly to Spock's skin, were not for him.

It was not love which had drawn his captain into his arms, but mere utility. Jim had realized what Spock had not: though they could not hide themselves, they could, perhaps, distract from themselves.

Two men attempting to look inconspicuous would only draw suspicion. Two men locked in a romantic embrace, however, may be overlooked - or even deliberately ignored. Few were comfortable with looking closely at the private passions of strangers, and fewer still would see reason to. Those searching for them, Spock hoped, would not. There would be no logic in halting an escape attempt solely for a kiss, after all.

Therefore, in order to escape unnoticed, they must be convincing.

They must seem, to any observers, to be completely and entirely immersed in one another, with no care for anything going on in their surroundings, and no fear of discovery.

Two lives, purchased with a kiss.

It was entirely logical, then, for Spock to part his lips, inviting Jim's tongue to dip inside of the wet cave of his mouth and meeting it with his own. If a groan rumbled deep within his chest, it could surely only help their cause; there was no need to swallow it down.

This disguise would, Spock observed as Jim's tongue flicked gently at his mouth, be far easier to maintain than it had any right to be.

It was a terribly simple matter for a man in love to behave as though he were a man in love.

The difficult part, then, would be remembering that it was a ruse. Already, heat bubbled deep within Spock, aching want suffusing his every neuron. Every faint brush of flesh sent golden tendrils of telepathic energy sparking across his skin, and it was all Spock could manage to hold himself back from pressing hungry fingers to Jim's meldpoints and sinking into that wonderfully enticing mind.

Instead, Spock slipped a hand beneath the hem of Jim's shirt, rucking up the cloth until he was tracing patterns across a smooth expanse of golden skin. He flexed his hand, allowing his nails to scratch carefully along Jim's spine, and did not permit himself to consider reaching upwards, to Jim's face - or worse: downwards, beyond the waistband of his pants.

He wondered if Jim would have chosen this, had he known how very much Spock wanted.

Perhaps it was selfish of Spock to allow it.

Still, he could not force himself away - not when Jim's life was at stake. The kiss was his lifeline, and so the kiss must remain.

The touch of their minds, however, did nothing to aid Jim. It was solely for Spock's benefit, taken from Jim without his knowledge or intent.

That, Spock could end.

If Jim was to unknowingly place himself into the hands of someone who wanted more than he would wish to give, then Spock would take it upon himself to be his protector - even if the one he must protect against was himself.

And so, Spock opened himself to every offered touch, and girded his mind against every stray thought, until not a single wisp of golden energy could find its way past his defenses.

When Jim's thigh nudged its way between Spock's legs, Spock spread his stance wider, allowing him to press closer, and did not let himself feel. His hands grasped and squeezed at the soft flesh beneath them, drawing quiet gasps from a pink-flushed throat, and no pleasant hum buzzed against his fingertips, carrying with it the flavor of human emotion. Jim nipped at his lips and pet at his hair, and Spock pressed every scrap of yearning deep down within himself to where they couldn't emerge.

Eyes closed and spirit aching, Spock kissed him.

_____________

from this ask game

[djevelbl]

GUESS WHO I'M DRAWING NOOOOWWWWW~!!!!

[i-really-like-phrogs]

When someone else’s art is so good you physically can’t look at it because of artistic jealousy

[jasontoddsno1simp]

I'm gonna be honest with you guys - I rly don't care for the people both side'ing the angry Robin discourse in the name of nuance.

Cause it's not nuance. It's revisionist history.

[sysig]

Go play pretend on your own (Patreon)

[francesderwent]

so I heard you wanna talk religion in ttpd! let’s talk I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can).

“they shake their heads saying ‘God help her’ when I tell ‘em he’s my man.” this isn’t the outright controlling judgment of the saboteurs in But Daddy I Love Him. nobody is trying to tell her what to do or force her to break up. this is a simple admission that the situation she’s in is difficult, that she’s chosen a hard path and needs help. and what is her response? “your good Lord doesn’t need to lift a finger, I can fix him, no really I can.” she admits salvation is needed. but Taylor is casting herself as the savior. she doesn’t need any help, any grace, any divine assistance. in fact, she doubles down: “only I can”. she and she alone has the power to reform this man, because of the love between them. it’s reminiscent of False God, except now the idol isn’t their love, it’s just her. she’s going to save him.

what’s interesting to me is we don’t know how the themes of salvation would have been recapitulated in light of the reversal at the end of the song, “whoa maybe I can’t”, because the song ends there. maybe she can’t fix him because he is ultimately unfixable, irredeemable, worthless. or maybe she can’t fix him because she’s not God. and honestly, I think the song is meant to leave us wondering. she’s waking up to reality, but is the reality his smallness of soul or her power trip?

so what is the blatant Christian language in this song for? is it telling us that Christianity is evil for implanting the idea of redemption into our minds when it doesn’t really exist? or is it a hint that trying to become our own gods, even with the best of intentions, is a pathway that leads only to death?

[svtskneecaps]

you know what i'll say it MIKE AND ROIER ARE THE ONLY ONES I RESPECT these fuckers will rock up and say FUCK english all my homies HATE english they are the only ones i trust and respect these fuckers are like you will hear me speak my language and you will LEARN IT OR DIE and i respect the HELL OUT OF IT dude THANK YOU FOR BEING ENGLISH HATERS brothers THANK YOU FOR NOT SPEAKING ONLY ENGLISH WHEN AMONG ANYONE NOT OF YOUR LANGUAGE GROUP!!!!!!!!

[kingofthecapybaras]

brief lil fic i wrote bc i was having too many thoughts about landduo hurt/comfort

obvious warnings for mentions of missing eggs and general angst

---

foolish walks out of his tower, having just finished organizing his loot from the dungeons he did today, and pointedly not dwelling for too long on anything other than the chests in that room. he still has a bit of time left today, and he's certainly not looking forward to trying to go to sleep and being left alone with his thoughts, so maybe he can finally squeeze some work in on the titan, or he'll go to spawn and run into someone else to goof around with and distract himself.

foolish gets halfway across the path to his warpstone when he finally notices bad on the shore. he's sitting on the ground outside his and dapper's first house, with his arms wrapped around his legs, knees tucked up to his chin, staring off blankly into the water as it waves and ripples against the land.

foolish pauses for a brief moment, and then turns to walk along the shore over to him.

"hey," foolish greets softly. bad turns his head to look up at foolish, but doesn't say a word. foolish notices the bags under his eyes. bad turns back to staring out at the water.

it's not an outright 'go away,' so foolish takes that as invitation enough to sit down next to him on the ground, curled up similarly to bad with his hands resting on his knees. for what feels like the first time all day, foolish lets out a deep breath, the full weight of his thoughts washing over him like the sound of the waves.

he thinks of leo. he thinks about how in the days leading up to the eggs' disappearance he didn't even get to see her, missing her by mere minutes. he thinks of the note she left in the chest in her room, he thinks about the totems left there and how wherever she is now, she doesn't have them. he thinks of vegetta, how he's probably going to come back and find out their daughter is missing. he thinks of all the other eggs. surely they'll all come back, right? the last time they went missing they came back. they have to come back, it's not fair for them to just be taken without any warning, without any explanation, without any closure.

foolish feels tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes, and tries to push the feeling away. bad is still sitting next to him, after all, and foolish can only think however he's feeling, bad must be feeling it worse, he practically took care of all the eggs. he doesn't need to add foolish having a breakdown in front of him on top of all of that.

foolish takes another few deep breaths, listening to the sound of the waves, letting his thoughts wash away with them, and he thinks he might be somewhere close to feeling normal again. and then he feels bad lean his head against his shoulder.

he looks down to find bad already looking up at him, and they share a brief glance before foolish wraps an arm around bad's back, pulling him in closer, and bad moves to fully wrap his arms around foolish's chest, and then foolish moves his other arm and they're hugging each other so tight foolish worries he might crush him.

and then foolish notices bad is crying- shaking, silent sobs with cold tears landing where bad has tucked his head near foolish's shoulder- and then foolish's carefully put up wall cracks, every last thought and emotion foolish had been bottling in rushing out in the form of tears that trail down his cheeks and fall against bad's back.

they stay hugging even after they've both stopped crying, until finally foolish feels bad push back against his hold and he releases him. bad pulls away, wiping at his face with one hand, still saying nothing. foolish has the impulse to poke fun at him just to regain a sense of normalcy, but quickly pushes it down. he has the feeling bad needed that just as much as he did.

they sit in silence again for a little while longer, staring out at the water and the now mostly set sun just barely dipping below the horizon, before bad stands up.

"uh, i should go… i have stuff i need to work on."

foolish stands up with him, feeling that whatever moment they were having before has now passed.

"yeah, yeah. me too," foolish says. bad turns to leave, and foolish puts out a hand to stop him. "uh. thanks, though."

it's doesn't feel exactly like what foolish really means, but it's close enough.

"oh. thank you too," bad says.

they go their separate ways, and they don't mention it again, aside from the knowing glance they share when they see each other the next morning.

[guckies]

You know Foolish starting and leading a gang in prison actually helps him blend in a lot as they think they’re working together, and he gets to play dumb while influencing some of the information spread.

But then we have Bagi... Who is immediately is going to be suspicious of him because of the info she got with Mouse and Tina. Albeit the information is kinda weird because he was with Tina and arrested an eye soldier not Luffy. So who knows what will happen?

[kittygawa--jr]

girl who has so many thoughts and opinions about the new randy bullshit but is definitely not politically or socially read enough to make them

[mangofanarts]

Landduo save me.........save me..........

[trans-yllz]

seriously debating going to a tattoo flash day tomorrow...

[heartcircus]

I really hope Ros doesn’t leave the kingdom because Sneeg, Clown, and Foolish do so much for her and care so much about her😭. Sneeg and Clown wanted Pili dead only because of Ros. Foolish told her Tango was wrong when he insulted her. Plus Clown has hated Owen for SO long, I don’t know why Owen should represent the whole kingdom 😭

i think, genuinely, she is just blinded by her grief over aimsey's death and she needs to talk with her teammates to really be able to understand how important she is to the kingdom. i mean she quite literally is the most integral part and is why half of those people are sticking around. talking to clown, sneeg, or foolish would probably clear some things up for her, i can't imagine her leaving silently because those people are her Family essentially? if anything owen should be punished for saying that shit to ros like oh my fucking god

[zeb-z]

the sooner badboyhalo viewers realize he’s an unreliable narrator the sooner I’ll be able to sleep at night

[hopalongfairywren]

please talk to me about the lore

Imagine if the date in which ccs were added to the server actually had impacts on the story itself post like... the batch of people including ranboo