#not a braincell to be seen

[gunsatthaphan]

score: 1

[cum-villain]

Has anyone else noticed recently how there's been a surge in "fujoshis are homophobic"/"women are fetishizing gay men" type statements and ideology around the same time "trans men are women trying to invade queer men's spaces" type anti trans men sentiments have been rising?

[nymph1e]

One thing I really hope changes about the Live Action is Zoro's characterisation. Dont get me wrong, OPLA!Zoro is great, but he's WAY too Cool Guy at the moment.

One of the best things about Zoro is how from a distance he SEEMS like a typical anime Cool Guy but then as you go forward you realize that, no, he's an insane weirdo who shares a braincell with Luffy, specifically. And they lost said braincell somewhere in Shells Town.

He will SOMETIMES borrow Nami's, but she charges too much for him to be able to afford it often...

[falgaia]

Hisuian Hex Maniac

>animated ver.

[tending-the-hearth]

"are we gonna get separated?" "i don't know, baby"

[pumpkincryptid]

Kinda obsessed with how I draw the Wubbuddies actually

[blackkatdraws]

Something dumb I drew last night

———✧

Arthur belongs to @indigo-art

Harry belongs to Sad-ist

[punkpillowprincess]

ELECTRIC BRIXTON 2025 

Louis Tomlinson - London ✶ 06.03.25 ✶

✩ ✩ @lthqofficial

buy me an iced latte ⋆⭒˚.⋆

[hyakunana]

Encounter V — Reverse Boost

+

[iholli]

"hey, Drag Strip! he looks cool! huh, he kinda reminds me of something."

"...hey wait--"

[shannonsketches]

Why is the anime so weird, it's not even the same series dude?? It's like,

Anime:

GOKU: I have a great idea to bring peace to the universe, and my leadership and compassion alone will unite us all. I have No Flaws and am A True Relatable Everyman :)

VEGETA: NO! I AM THE BEST AND I WILL CAUSE PROBLEMS UNTIL I AM RECOGNIZED AS SUCH!!!!

Manga:

GOKU: Vegeta what's cornmeal made of? I know it's what the corn eats, but what's it made of? VEGETA: Hey Kakarot let's play the quiet game until one of us dies.

[martellspear]

me ○ く|)へ 〉 ￣￣┗┓ "elia was ok with it because she's dornish" ┗┓　 ヾ○ｼ ┗┓ ヘ/ ┗┓ ノ ┗┓

[nebulaedaniel]

starting a rumor that phil is like medusa, but instead of turning people into stone he just makes them lose all thoughts

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

Trick or treat :kek:

i wanted to give you a trick, but that felt too mean 😂 you only deserve treats too, dande 😌 (again - boldly declaring that my writing is a treat, how dare i)

-

The first time Voldemort realises he is preoccupied by Harry Potter, he dismisses it as a temporary obsession, an effect of the prophecy’s weight hanging over them both. He reasons that it is only natural to feel that connection, that persistent pull of fate that entwines them. But over time, he finds himself lingering on details that have nothing to do with power, prophecy, or survival.

He notices the way Harry stands, shoulders squared as if ready to take on the entire world with that endless courage. The way he meets Voldemort’s eyes with a gaze that burns with conviction and resentment—a fire even the Dark Lord can appreciate. He observes the shadows under Harry’s eyes, the exhaustion and strain he hides with an almost maddening determination.

At night, when silence blankets his surroundings and the shadows seem to close in, Voldemort entertains himself by wondering how such a fragile-seeming figure holds such relentless strength.

It’s during these quiet moments that Voldemort’s imaginations tend to run wild… and he, in turn, tends to run indulgent.

“Imagine,” he murmurs into the near-darkness, voice barely a whisper of parseltongue. He is alone in his chambers, with nothing but the faint crackle of the dying fireplace to answer him. “Imagine the boy at your side.”

He lets himself imagine the scene vividly. Harry, fierce as always, beside him, eyes blazing but no longer with hatred. No, Harry looks at him with something akin to loyalty—devotion, perhaps. And Voldemort moulds him, sharpens that unyielding spirit, wields him like a blade against anyone who dares oppose him. 

It is, of course, impossible. The boy has proven his defiance time and again, but imagining a world where Harry Potter is his… It’s a delightfully twisted pleasure.

He can see flashes of it when he duels with Harry. He lets their spells clash longer than necessary, twisting his wand in complex arcs to draw out their exchanges. Voldemort always casts his most elegant spells, feeling a shiver of satisfaction when Harry blocks them, though he never holds back enough to allow any real advantage.

They have circled each other, surrounded by the acrid smell of scorched earth and smoke, and Voldemort can see it—the gleam of fire in Harry’s eyes that seems almost respectful, if only for Voldemort’s sheer skill. Perhaps one day, he has thought, as his fingers twist around his wand. One day he will see reason. One day he will recognise his proper place.

Voldemort’s lips curve into a slow, almost serene smile as the firelight casts strange shadows across his features. He knows it is madness to indulge in such thoughts, but he allows it, and the fantasies bloom in his mind. After all, he is a master of bending the world to his will. He would take Harry’s resistance, his fire, his drive—and once he had them if he could just turn them inward, redirect them toward his cause…

“Yes,” he hisses softly, a strange kind of longing in his voice. “Yes, I could make him see.”

And in his fantasies, Harry does see. Voldemort imagines the boy on his knees, not in defeat but in reverence, with that same fierce loyalty that he always displays toward those he loves. Only now, that loyalty is directed at him. Yes, in his mind, Voldemort can feel the heat of Harry’s presence beside him, a flame he can waiver but never fully extinguish—and for reasons he can’t quite explain, he doesn’t want to extinguish it. He wants it close, flaring bright, a fiendfyre only he can command… Voldemort knows it is perverse to entertain such a vision, but he can’t deny its allure.

So it’s nights like this, quiet and still, that Voldemort finds himself in fits of whimsy. Obscene behaviour he will never admit to—a summoned bit of parchment and his bent form drafting a letter—a message to Harry. He imagines himself delivering it with a trace of charm, that magnetic charisma he’d once wielded as Tom Riddle. The letter itself is a promise. A darkly tempting offer that whispers of power and knowledge surpassing anything Harry can imagine. Join me, it murmurs from his writing desk, and I will show you things beyond even your boldest dreams.

And as the sun creeps up, joining the dead, undead, and deeply asleep, Voldemort holds the letter before the dying embers of the fireplace and watches blankly as it catches alight. He burns it, scoffing at his own foolishness.

One day, he tells himself as he stalks the halls of Malfoy Manor, irritation under his skin from another fitfully restless night. One day he will either have Harry by his side—willingly or not—or he will be rid of this strange obsession. But until then, he allows himself the indulgence of these fantasies, of a loyalty untainted by fear and of a fire that burns for him alone.

And the next night, in the silence of his dark chambers, with only shadows to witness, when he finds himself with imaginations that tend to run wild… he finds himself waiting—waiting for the day when Harry Potter will be his.

-

(fin...?)

[meebkinurbestie]

Who let me write a My Singing Monsters AU? 😭

[movietonight]

I have been granted power over the label maker