#*sorry for reduce this*

[ryanxross]

The Pitt literally has everything. Socially awkward and highly competent autistic coded character. Sarcastic asshole with a heart of gold. Nervous white boy with the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen. Nepo baby child prodigy. Milf with a mysterious past. Noah Wyle. Need I say more

[physical-manifestation-of-spite]

Let's be crystal clear. Queerbaiting is real. But it occurs when the creators intentionally hint at a queer relationship to lure in a queer audience to give them money, but never actually follow through on their heavy-handed implications of a queer relationship. Queerbaiting does not occur when the creator has been transparent from the very beginning that Malevolent is about friendship and platonic love, meant to work through the toxic masculinity they've lived throughout their entire life, and to express healthy platonic love (and sometimes unhealthy love) between two male-presenting characters. It is not queerbaiting when they emphatically tell each other that they love each other, because love isn't exclusively romantic, and while it is absolutely okay for people to ship them (and something that the creator is totally FINE with, btw), it is not okay to accuse the creator of lying about their relationship when he's been clear about it from the very beginning.

Friendship and platonic love is just as meaningful as romantic love and that's the whole point of Malevolent.

[artfight]

Hold on now, what do you mean there's 50 days left until Art Fight starts-

[anistarrose]

to be honest when i see people say that "moral center" characters are boring, i'm like. well, to each their own i guess, you can have your taste and i can have mine. but also: 99% sure that's a straight-up skill issue on behalf of whoever's writing the characters you're thinking of. because when they're written well, characters at the moral heart of their story can also be interesting, complicated, evolving and contradictory, messy, flawed, in possession of Complexes, and most importantly, perpetrators of mistakes so tragic and devastating that they shape the entire narrative. and i know for a fact that all of that is true because of my best friend Lup Adventurezone

[housecow]

hair is looking healthy again, my skin is clear asf, i can barely squeeze thru the bathroom door where i’m staying, double chin has somehow greatly reduced after not being able to eat for 3 days… i’m kinda cute rn ngl

[tarmac-rat]

"I can't believe CDPR made one of the romance options a COP" River is a cop for literally two thirds of a mission that is dedicated to uncovering the depths of police corruption in Night City, gets immediately booted from the force BECAUSE he tried to stand up to said police corruption, spends the rest of the game pursuing detective work outside the law, and in the base game mentions he's going to start work as a private eye so he doesn't have to return to the force in order to keep protecting people.

The only instance where the "River is a Cop" joke is funny is using it in the context of Johnny being pissy about it, which should probably tell you how low hanging that particular fruit probably is.

[laniidae-passerine]

don’t get how you can watch iwtv and be a sincere diehard lestat hater. like the world’s biggest lestat hater is louis and that man can’t even commit to it for more than five minutes before literally hallucinating lestat wearing a wedding ring and talking pretty to him. this show is about louis and every road leads back to lestat for that man

[mintedcats]

Lightleap more like lightLOVE this thing

[whatsjulietslastname]

HEY GUYS REMEMBER WHEN CHLOE WANTED MAX TO BE THE LAST THING SHE EVER SAW BEFORE DYING. BTW GUYS. REMEMBER WHEN CHLOE SAID “i’m never leaving you” AND “that’s okay we will, forever” AND “Max, i’ll always be with you”. GUYS GUYS GUYS HOLD ON REMEMBER WHEN CHLOE SPENT YEARS TALKING TO MAX IN HER DIARY BECAUSE SHE COULDN’T LET HER GO GUYS. AND WHEN SHE TOOK MAX BACK IN A HEARTBEAT BECAUSE SHE MISSED HER TOO MUCH. OH AND BTW REMEMBER HOW THEY WERE CHILDHOOD BEST FRIENDS AND GREW UP TOGETHER AND FELL IN LOVE AND ARE NOT LINKED ONLY BY A ‘trauma bond’. DO WE REMEMBER THAT. COLLECTIVELY.

[foggysilverfeathers]

Fast, furious, unpredictable.

Like a wildcard

Like a meteor

Like a winner.

[stargirlygirl]

no, you can't buy my ranch

rancher!sylus x spoiled!city girl!reader

⭑.ᐟ part one: new home

summary: today is the day you move into your dad's ranch house, but there's a problem. who is this silver-haired man touring your property?

contains: swearing, angst, 1.5k words

You never thought it would come to this, but as rolling grassy hills and cattle whir past your tinted car windows, you realise it indeed has.

You’re a city girl. You love the buzz and bustle of the concrete jungle; the fact that there are so many people, no one looks at you. You blend right into this fashion-forward, $8 coffee-drinking, road rage mania. It’s your home.

When your father bought a property in the middle of nowhere a few years ago, you didn’t think much of it. Not until a couple of months ago, when he asked you to pack up and move in there for the next year, so he won’t be taxed on rent collection. You were in utter disbelief and refused straight off the bat. You couldn’t give up your barista-made 57-degree oat milk lattes, let alone your apartment, or your job. And what of your gym membership? Your weekly outings with friends?

But here you are, growing frustrated at your GPS as you try to navigate the few roads of this tiny town.

You’ll be working remotely for as long as you stay here, and daddy-poo bought you an espresso machine in preparation for your move. In your mind, this next year couldn’t go any faster. You can’t wait to be out of here. Sure, the countryside looks nice. But it’s not going to be very nice when you find snakes in your backyard and can’t pop down to the supermarket after work because it closes at 5pm.

And don’t get me started on the small town gossip. Within days, everyone here will be fluent enough in your life story to write a biography about you. What high school you went to, every crush you’ve ever had, how many times you’ve peed in the pool, all of it! They’re going to know, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them from talking about it. You said so to your father when he saw you off.

“This is a bad idea,” you pouted. And he just sighed and waved as you pulled out of the parking lot and hit ‘start route’ to your new hellhole home.

For the third time in the last hour, your GPS has missed a turn and is now redirecting you back to the main road. The busy ice cream parlour workers must be tired of seeing your rust bucket of a car; they’re probably gossiping about this fucking loser who keeps circling. Determined not to go past your turn again, you drive extra slow, take the right lane, and round the corner when clear.

Driving to the end of empty grasslands, you find a small ranch house. Blue-tiled roof, white exterior, chimney, and is that a rocking chair on the porch? The sun is setting, tangerine hues casting the quaint house in a cosy glow. It’s enchanting, even more so as you pull off the dirt road and park on a nearby worn patch where you assume the prior tenants parked.

But there’s just one problem.

On the opposite side of the dirt trail is a black pickup truck. Stepping out of your beat-up tin car, the hinges groaning as you gently shut the door. Staring at the intruding vehicle, you notice the red interior of the truck and various tools stacked up on the tray. Huffing, you head to the passenger’s side and turn your handbag inside-out looking for the house keys. Upon grasping them, you lock your car and stride up your new ‘home’.

Drawing closer, you hear muffled voices from the side of the house. A deep, resonating chuckle accompanies feet crackling on the tall shrubs. You change course, following the sounds of the approaching strangers instead. It only takes a few seconds before silky silver locks glinting in the fading light come into view, followed by narrow crimson eyes. They settle on you instantly, zeroing in and assessing you like a predator does to its prey.

He’s gorgeous. Ahem. Fine. He looks fine.

Angular features, rippling muscles beneath his button-up, broad shoulders and the sluttiest little waist (that black vest understood the assignment). You’re practically ogling him with how your lips are parted, a bit of spit forming at the corner of your mouth while your eyes rake up and down his every line and curve.

Sylus’s dark boots squish every insect and hint of vegetation in their path until he stops a few feet away from you. His shadow looms over you, making you feel small and weak. His eyes have you glued in place, rendering you speechless and flushed as you wish you could run to your car and book it back to the city. So what if it’s another six-hour drive? Who cares? You certainly don’t if it means escaping the hunk of man in front of you.

Feebly, you murmur, “Who’re you?” The way it comes out, you sound like an abandoned kitten drenched by an unrelenting storm. He smirks; it sends chills rolling up your spine.

“I could say the same about you, kitten,” he confidently drawls.

Your eyes widen as you stutter, “W-what? What did you just call me?”

The man by his side, whom you haven’t even spared a glance at, interjects, “Miss, this is private property. If you don’t identify yourself, then you could be charged with trespassing.”

“Trespassing?!” You echo, a hint of panic in your tone.

Crossing your arms beneath your chest, you scold him, “If anyone’s trespassing, it’s you two.” Your gaze flickers to the silver-haired man, his sharp eyes still fixated on you; they observe every breath you take, the darkness beneath your eyes, and how you shift uncomfortably on your feet like you’ve been driving for hours.

You continue, irritated, “My father owns this property. Who’re you to come here and accuse me of—”

“Oh,” Sylus interrupts, his voice rich like dark velvet.

“So, you’re Miss L/n, then?” He continues with a raised brow and a mocking grin on his perfect face. Oh, how you wanna punch it off! You nod, a little knot in your brow, which he finds amusing.

The silver-haired man introduces himself, “I was hoping to make your acquaintance sooner or later. I am Sylus, and I’d like to purchase your ranch.”

Your jaw slackens as you stare at him, sputtering, “Y-you what?”

“Mr Qin is a successful ranch owner and businessman. You have quite a nice block of land, Miss L/n. I was showing him around the property in preparation for a sale, once your father gives the word, of course,” the other man explains. You notice that he’s in a suit and holding several papers. Must be the real estate agent, you think.

You scoff, “Who… who do you think you are, you prick?” Pointing at Sylus, you scowl, “You have no right to be inspecting my land and you—” Your fury switches to the real estate agent, “are out of your fucking mind! Showing potential clients around here? Are you so desperate for commission? Get the fuck out of here or I’m calling the police.”

Delving into your back jean pocket, you retrieve your phone and open the dial pad.

Sylus’s charming chuckle unnerves you, “There’s no need to do that, sweetie. The tour is finished anyway.” Glancing up from your screen, you step back reflexively as he steps forward.

He holds out a red card between his long fingers, smirking, “My business card for when you’re ready to negotiate price.” You snatch it from him, glaring at him the entire time. And you don’t stop until you can make out his tall figure (bakery in full view btw) amongst the sunset backdrop, climbing into his truck and driving away in a flurry of dust and mystery.

Locking your phone, you slide it into your pocket and flip over Sylus’s business card. Address, email, phone number, all detailed in silver embossed lettering on a smooth background. But not as smooth as his voice. What?

Shaking those thoughts out of your head, you trudge back to your car and flip open the boot. It’s a long night, pulling out the few boxes you could fit, carrying them up the porch steps and eventually dumping them in the warm living room. Luckily, everything’s mostly furnished. It’s just your homely touch that needs to be added.

You unpack the ‘essentials’ box: toiletries, fry pan and toaster, and phone charger. Shortly afterwards, you collapse into bed, a certain silver-tongued fox on your mind. His shrewd gaze haunts your dreams, as do the defined contours of his body, evident in the afternoon light.

Oh, what it would be like to feel such muscles beneath your palm, to have his eyes on you for eternity. Such dreams are forbidden, yet you cannot stop the wandering mind from doing just that in the early hours of the morn.

masterlist

[sprongisupreme]

The aftermath

-

I've been thinking a lot about Albrechts notes and what happened to him after he got out of the void... the way he describes just sorta floating there waiting to die, too scared to act. And Loid taking care of him once he decides to get his act together. It makes me so emotional & conjured up a lot of images in my mind.

[cubbihue]

It is 5am and I read through the whole blog and I love love love the family dynamics and all the thought you’ve put into the lore and details 🩷 so! You’ve mentioned that if there aren’t any kids to make godkids, there won’t be any food for fairies. What do you mean by that? 👀

Also! Is there anything you wanna draw/tell us about the AU that nobody’s asked yet?

Is it still 5am for u, im sorry i've trapped u in 5am for 2 days now.

SO! Fairies feed on emotions, and different courts have different diets! The most common one is "desire". However, desires can't be harvested unless it's released from the human's body and becomes magic. The best way to do this is to have the person "Make a Wish".

This is why Fairies can't get desires from adults! Adults have a strong resistance to memory-tampering magic, which means their wishes are near impossible to grant if Fairies want to stay hidden.

After the wish is granted, the desire is removed and sent to the Big Wand. From there, desires leak out across Fairyworld, and fairies get to eat! It tastes best in the form of chocolate cake, I've heard.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

Fun fact: Fairy Wings can be damaged or removed. Jorgen Vonstrangle doesn't have wings anymore!! He's a flightless fairy.

[tatakaeeren]

Umemiya Hajime | Wind Breaker Ep. 10 “Dialogue"

[moonagedaydreamsofrhiannon]

MARAUDERS FANS LET JAMES POTTER BE A LITTLE BIT OF A CUNT PLEASE

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

Every time someone talks about Midnighter or Apollo or their relationship and ONLY talks about them "being a superbat pastiche" i kill a hostage.