akingslion

[akingslion]

Fondly remembering the time that a cat owner casually entered their calico Maine Coon in a cat fancier’s competition and the judges lost their minds because the cat was 1) male and 2) able to bear children

[akingslion]

Crash

[akingslion]

The reason tumblr should have a mutuals only filter for notifications is cause I wanna know which of you i need to demand reparations for my posts getting popular

[akingslion]

read FMA and have become fully fascinated by Van Hohenheim. Genuinely has there ever been a better immortal character. His combination of invulnerability & low self esteem means he has about zero self-preservation instinct and will just let people knock him flat including his own 15 year old son.

His entire deal is that he became superpowerful by convincing 500000 ghosts to talk about their feelings but he's too nervous to talk to his own two sons because he thinks they don't like him. Which to be fair, they do not. but cmon dude.

[akingslion]

You know the. You know the Femme Fatale "I grew up with 10 brothers so I know how to fight" character?

That's

That's Roy Mustang

Just the opposite.

Roy "I grew up with 10 sisters so I know how to disguise covert information reconnaissance as flirting" Mustang.

"I grew up with 10 sisters so I know how to weaponize my sexual charm to disarm others and win favor."

Roy led every higher-up to believe he was just a fuckboy and a manwhore in this for his own ego and that they shouldn't view him as any kind of violent revolutionary like "no sir I'm just a slut."

Roy Mustang.

[akingslion]

hi…hiiiii ^__^. hiii :3 hiiiii. gives you transmasc riza and leaves

[akingslion]

inside you there are two wolves. one wants to make a mushy heartfelt post positing a scenario where Jon and Martin didn't go to another world, but they didn't die either. Not exactly. In that one split moment where everything breaks, and all inter- and intradimensional veils are thinnest, there's a sudden vacuum in this world, formerly filled with Fear. So Jon and Martin dissapear, in a sense... but in the world after the apocalypse, sometimes someone suddenly finds themselves filled with supernatural strength to save a loved one, someone's stubbornness moves the earth, a tape recorder turns on for laughter

the other wolf says "haha, Enti-tea"

[akingslion]

Cant wait for stormlight 6 where the roles will be reversed and we get to follow the sunshine boy local therapist oroden stormblessed and his best buddy the very mentally traumatized gavinor kholin

[akingslion]

My poor heart

elsewhere

i. 

The skies are bright and nothing hurts. The fear disappears like it was shot into the vacuum of space, and there is only relief and hope and love. Jon’s wounds close–they were never there. The knife in Martin’s hand sprouts flowers without thorns. There is no violence. There is no fear. There is no darkness. There is light, and there is them, and that is all there needs to be.

ii.

The skies are open and thunderous and pouring and the rain is cold and heavy and it carries Martin’s tears down with it, salting the earth below them. Jon’s hands clench and unclench in Martin’s chest, the pain taking him beyond words, beyond any sound, just his mouth open, teeth sunk into the shoulder of Martin’s shirt to stifle the dead-silent screaming.  Martin holds him because he doesn’t know what else to do. His hand is still white-knuckled around the knife. Jon’s blood sinks hot into him, staining his skin. An artist’s impression of love and loss–the outline of a human-turned-monster-turned-human, year unknown, viscera on flesh, gift of Martin Blackwood.

He dies so much slower than Martin can stand. Martin can feel the pain, feel the tension in Jon’s body, every tendon straining, so taught they vibrate. Martin tries to calm him, whispers to him, holds him, strokes his head, but he struggles and–and then, eventually, his body goes limp, and Martin can’t do anything except keep running useless, bloody hands through Jon’s hair. 

iii.

The sky is dark and bright and blinking back and forth. Nothing has changed. The knife splintered in Martin’s hand, blood and stinging-open scratches and embedded shrapnel. Jon is in Martin’s arms, but gone, still. Jon, but…not. Jon, but the version of himself that’s just a character, just the protagonist of the human puppet show the gods put on.

Martin wants to cry. Jon gently removes the pain from his mind, even though he was holding it as tightly as he could. Jon speaks, and Martin hears his voice layered with Beholding, echoing from behind his own optic nerves into his brain. It’s alright, Martin. The Eye looks into him like it’s pulling up the curtain to spy on a neighbor. I’m here.

iv.

The ceiling is high because Jon gets claustrophobic, and Martin loves it for the way the light hits it and spreads every morning. He and Jon both sleep like shit, and most mornings they wake up far too early and talk through the sunrise, love gradually illuminated. Jon’s wound still burns, sometimes, but it’s at least usually not the thing that wakes him up screaming. The new names throw the both of them off, Martin because he’d spent a lot of time deliberating on Martin K. Blackwood to begin with, and Jon because he itches to remain the Archivist, somewhere, deep down. Things won’t ever be perfect, but Christ, they could be so much fucking worse.

v.

The sky outside the Magnus Institute is just a little darker than the rest of the city, Martin thinks, or maybe he’s just still a bit stoned from the night before. He needs to get his shit together. He needs this job. He knows the lie by heart. Parapsychology. Worked in the school library–no reference? No, his poor supervisor died several months ago, and they were really close, it’s a tragedy, really–

He has this. He takes a deep breath, walks through the door, and tries to shake off the eerie, spine-tingling feeling of stepping through spiderweb.

vi.

A beautiful man with wild, searching eyes greets Martin on the Tube like a long-lost lover. Martin, he breathes, and then he closes the distance between them and inspects Martin, his eyes widening in warm relief, and Martin can only manage a Excuse me, um, because he doesn’t know how you take something like this, and the man steps back, eyes shifting to pained horror.

I mistook you for someone else, the man says, with a pained noise that Martin thinks was an attempt at a laugh. I hope you have the most incredible life. The doors of the train open, and the man steps out, and Martin wildly overshoots his stop thinking about the interaction. 

He never sees the man again, but he wonders about him every single day.

Keep reading

[akingslion]

Done

Could we crash tumblr if we all posted the word "crash" on the 1st of april 2022, 12:35 EST?

[akingslion]

“The prince just fell in love with Cinderella because of her looks!”

Wrong. Okay, picture this–

So there’s the prince, okay? He’s like, smack dab in the center of the ballroom, and he is like, horrifically aware that this whole ball thing is a result of his dad falling into a panic about the royal lineage or whatever and he’s stuck listening to highborn girl after highborn girl, all lined up, introducing themselves like, “Oh yeah my family’s been a longtime supporter of the crown, and I think you’re cute, *cough* I’ve been told I have child-bearing hips *cough* Who said that? Anyway–” and Princey boy is just smiling through it, he has been the center of attention for entirely too long, he misses his emotional support horse, and is just internally like “Someone please kill me now.” And then… he sees her–This isn’t a love at first sight thing, this is a ‘what the hell is going on over there’ thing, because this girl has not gotten into the Debutante line for a solid 45 minutes. 

She’s just at the hors d’oeuvres table going HAM on the prosciutto-wrapped asparagus, and like, she’s polite about it, she’s happy to move aside for other people grabbing punch and canapes (and she’s really so sweet with the wait staff, it’s kind of cute because they’re like… definitely not used to being acknowledged) but it’s like, “Damn girl, did you not eat today?” and then the prince is kind of stuck with the uncomfortable thought of ‘how many girls starved themselves to fit into a corset for this.’ And then the Prince realizes he’s missed the past 4 Debutante introductions because he’s watching Mystery girl hork down crab rangoons. So he’s like, “Excuse me” and manages to break free from the never-ending parade of girls who will hop on his dick for status.

 And as he’s approaching Mystery Girl, it’s kind of hitting him that something’s not quite natural about her. Not fake, but not quite real. But at the same time this whole evening’s been just a whole circus of people acting fake as hell, so like, someone seeming a little off doesn’t seem bad, necessarily. And he sidles up to her like, “Hi,” and she’s like, “Oh–hey, have you tried the tapenade?” and she points to one of the plates, and at this point, he could hit her with the “You don’t know who I am, do you?” deal or the “Very funny, I see your play” deal, but at this point it occurs to him that, no, he hasn’t had anything to eat throughout this whole damn ball, partially because of being stuck in the debutante parade, partially because of nerves, and there’s something so disarming about the question that he grabs a crostini and she still seems so food-focused that it doesn’t seem possible that this is a play. So they both grab little plates and ditch the party.

She pretty much clears her plate in under two minutes and then has half of his plate, he’s cool with it, mostly he’s just absolutely fascinated listening to her.

See here’s the thing about Cinderella:

1. She doesn’t know he’s the prince. Like yeah, he’s been at the center of the room, but she’s kind of spent half the party eagerly looking around everywhere she’s allowed to go (”Have you seen rose garden? Have you seen the solarium??” further confirmation that she doesn’t know who she’s talking to) and the other half stuffing her face with food. 

2. She assumes she’s never going to see anyone here tonight again, and no one recognizes her, so she has no filter.

So she’s just talking about whatever with this guy. He seems cool. She talks about her friends, who are rats. She makes little outfits for them. Sometimes they bring her little gifts. She is already the coolest person the prince has ever met because of this. She pretty much offhandedly talks about whatever is fucked up about the kingdom that would take his advisors two hours of hemming and hawing and watering down to address. She just says it like it’s nothing, just funky little things she’s observed, and again, she’s not aware that he’s the prince, but it’s still pretty damn bold to bring up at a literal royal ball.

She… seems to have the majority of graces that lots of girls from Respectable Families™ have, but there’s something strange about it, something simultaneously broken and hardened, like the way you can see where ice has thawed and re-frozen. Also the way she talks about her family, and the way she avoids talking about her family– is raising several red flags, not in the “Oh this is another person trying to take advantage of me” sense, but in the “Oh fuck, something’s gone really wrong and you need help” sense and also lowkey a ‘damn is she even getting fed?’ sense. But he can’t say, ‘Hey, that’s not fucking normal for people to say that to you or treat you that way. We need to get you out of there,’ without sounding crazy himself, so for now, he’s just going to chill, make sure she’s comfortable, and keep enjoying the evening. She’s somehow befriended like 4 of the waitstaff so they’re willing to cover for them while they disappear for a little bit, and they get plenty of time to talk, but eventually it hits her that she hasn’t danced yet and she’s like “Come on! I bet we can make the prince jealous!” and he just bursts out laughing at that like “hell yeah, let’s make the prince jealous. He’s a real asshole.” Like clearly she’s having a good time, so who is he to make it weird? So they head back to the ballroom and they dance. And our girl, Mystery Girl, Cinderella, while they’re dancing, becomes acutely aware that everyone is staring. That doesn’t seem quite right. Like, yeah she’s hot, she knows she’s hot, but at least a good third of the party should still be focused on the prince, right? Where is that guy, anyway?

Oh.

Oh wait.

Oh shit.

And Princey Boy actually picks up on her realization and they whisper argue for like 3 minutes. “Why didn’t you tell me?! Now I feel like a goddamn idiot!” “I dunno it was nice being treated like a normal person” “Well me treating you like a normal person makes me a goddamn felon or something did you consider that?!” “Hey–Hey–it’s cool–you’re cool–I think you’re amazing, and if anyone says shit about you, I can shut it down.” “Well I don’t like that! That’s fucked up!” “I agree. It is fucked up, but I believe in you, and I think you should have a chance, and I’m here to back you up. I know power is fucked up right now. I know. But are you cool with working with me to change that?” And our girl Cindy pauses on that for a couple seconds, because.. she’s just spent hours with this guy and like.. she knows he’s a good guy, she knows he means well, so she’s like, “I don’t know how long I can actually work with you.” and the prince is like “Look, I know your home situation is complicated right now, but I really think we can–”

And then the bell starts ringing.

It’s midnight.

And then she takes off in a panic, and our prince just met the coolest person ever, and like, he’s pretty sure whatever situation they’re headed back to is fucked up, and all he’s got going to find her is a shoe. A shoe. 

[akingslion]

[akingslion]

time travel au my beloved

[akingslion]

the thing about the Sing movies (Sing and Sing 2, and please god I would watch infinite sequels I really would), is that they’re like, “Hey, you know that trope you like of a character with wild ambitions, limitless audacity, insane plans, and a willingness and ability to spout lie after lie until their plan impossibly comes together? Okay so what if that character was a) a musical theater director and b) an animated koala”

also they really fucking cast voice actors who can sing.

[akingslion]

This is inspiring

anyone please ask your crush out like this

[akingslion]

@shittysawtraps

[id in alt]

[akingslion]

traditional french baby names:

cigarette

fromage

racisme

baguette

hon hon hon