#ANON LETS GO

[nagiluvz]

i want to take care of servant so badly like he needs loving

EUWHWU YES ANON YOU ARE SO RIGHT!! POOR GUY WAS TREATED LIKE SHIT 😭 he'd definitely melt at any sort of affection be it words of affirmation, physical touch, etc. he just appreciates any sort of affection (even though he'd probably go on a rant on how trash like him isn't deserving of such affection🗿)

when was the last time the dude bathed during servant times? i don't think he ever did bathe during his time as a servant so just beg him to bathe. so what if the warriors of hope find out? you'll deal with them in the future as of right now what matters is that he feels clean.

his hair looks so fluffy but at the same time so messy, so wash it for him and care for it! he doesn't mind and he might allow himself to sleep if you continuously tell him it's alright!

i just wanna give him the biggest hug anon lets go care for servant <33 /p

[lesbianamalvada]

it/its pronouns are degrading and uncomfortable expecting people to be comfortable referring to you that way is selfish. also wanting be seen as a little gremlin creature, object, or thing, has nothing to do with "queerness" and everything to do with low self-esteem.

[tubbytarchia]

Please keep drawing traffic/hermit hybrids inaccurately because who cares, they look cool

I say this as an animal nerd, I love to implement biologically/anatomically accurate elements into hybrid designs where applicable, but Im not gonna ususally choose to do that over whatever I think looks visually appealing. I have my gripes and peeves with some popular hybrid design headcanons, but ultimately, please keep drawing them however you want to, because you can (and to piss haters off further, for fun)

Don't care if you headcanon Pearl as transfem, draw her with male moth antennae anyway. Don't care if avian Grian logically needs a second set of pectoral muscles, just slap those wings on there wherever you want. Gem's own skin featured antlers and female deer don't even grow them, aside from reindeers, which I'm willing to wager was not what Gem was thinking or cared about. Keep drawing her with huge antlers

I don't know who needs this reminder but these are fantasy hybrids. Our inspirations in drawing them are based in reality but no fucking avian or hooved or dog people exist. A person with huge moth wings isn't realistic to begin with so who cares if you give her some antennae too. If you do you need to get a hobby

[lyril]

awesome, so instead of a reprint like he was considering, joe murray's decided to just release his book as a free pdf/ebook!

i had a lot of trouble getting my hands on a copy (and i got extremely lucky to only pay $80 instead of the $200-$300 it usually goes for!) so this is awesome ❤

[moon-mirage]

Finally, by VERY popular demand, Peeta carrying Katniss while kissing:

[araekniarchive]

she's leaving home (bye, bye)

Sandra Cisneros, House on Mungo Street // Kevin Lucbert, Homes // The Chicks, Wide Open Spaces // Rainbow Rowell, Attachments

[nothingtoseeherebyeexx]

BAND AU BAND AU!!

(pls zoom in bc this drawing is stacked)

(took the photo ref from pics/videos of celebrities-these celebrities include matt hitt, timothee chalamet, boygenius and lewis capaldi)

close ups without colour bc i may or may not like them better:

these two are the exception bc they turned out pretty cool

[gabe-lovebot]

councilor 3D model

i learnt 3d modelling from the ground up to bring him to life. he's yours now. do whatever you want with him

[link]

please credit me if you make something using the model (or even ping/link me to it, i would love to see what you made!)

currently available as a .blend, .fbx and an SFM port.

[polarsirens]

I love your art and I've been thinking about Gerard (<3) and I wanted to recommend The Night We Met by Lord Huron, because it makes me think of them

thank you <3 and ough lord huron my beloved…. i haven’t listened to this song in a while but you are so so right and i’m back on my sadness train

take me back to the night we met

[desertduality]

gigs phasmo but the ghost is just confused mumbo jumbo

physically unable to write a snippet so here's a whole oneshot AKJSDKJ I hope you like it!! Personally I had a ton of fun lmao

-------

The house was nice, as far as haunted locations went. The flowers out front were dead, sure, but that was probably on account of their caretaker being dead as well.

The neighbors had been the ones to call this address in, claiming that although the owner of the property had died quite some months ago, lights frequently turned on and off in the house. The police had been by several times to check for intruders, and had come up empty every time. Finally, some desperate neighbor had given in and called paranormal investigators.

So there they were, Impulse pulling up on the curb just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Prime ghost hunting time, for some reason; Scar hadn’t really paid attention to the science and research when he’d signed up for the job. Besides, the other three had all that handled quite nicely. Scar was just along for the ride. 

“Scar, you know what you’re doing?” Impulse asked, grabbing a flashlight off the wall and clipping his walkie onto his belt. 

“Sir, yes sir!” Scar quipped, scanning the gear for his usual fare. “One paraba-dolical microphone coming up.”

“Grab a thermometer, too,” Impulse suggested, clapping him on the shoulder on his way out of the van. “Let’s try to keep this one clean! The company is running low on cursed items with resurrection abilities.”

“I know for a fact we’ve made the biggest dent in that,” Skizz’s voice crackled out of the walkie, changing to a slight echo as he presumably walked in the house.

“Why do you sound proud of that?” Grian asked, speaking into the radio as he grabbed a salt canister. Scar snickered, reaching over him to grab the thermometer. 

“We’ve got a record going, man! No one can stop us!”

“You have to admire his positivity,” Scar said brightly, clicking his flashlight to make sure it worked. 

“Yeah, I guess he’s got that going for him,” Grian replied, giving a short wave as he left the van. “See you on the inside, Scar.”

Scar gave a jaunty wave, doing one last check on his equipment before starting after him. A voice cut him off before he could leave. 

“Did anyone check the name?” Impulse asked, and Scar turned around to squint at the corkboard, eyes catching on the top. 

Huh. Interesting. 

Scar clicked the talk button on his walkie. “Looks like… Mumbo Jumbo?”

There was a long pause, and Scar almost thought they had missed it somehow. Then the response came.

“Scar,” Grian said, sounding tiredly amused. “If you can’t pronounce it, don’t just make something up.”

“No, It— It literally says Mumbo Jumbo,” Scar replied, glancing up to double check. “Don’t make me waste a photo to prove it. I will, you know I will.”

“Don’t, Scar,” Impulse jumped in, so quickly that the start of his sentence cut out. “We believe you.”

“Get in here before I come and drag you, Face,” Skizz chimed in, and Scar rolled his eyes with a chuckle, stepping out of the van. 

The house was warmer than the air outside, so Scar took that as a sign that someone had gotten to the fuse box. He wandered around with the paradabolic microphone for a few minutes, watching closely for big leaps in the readings. Eventually, Impulse called out from upstairs, claiming that he’d found the room. Scar hurried towards him, making it there just in time to watch him set up the video camera, fiddling with the tripod and muttering complaints about its stability. 

The room was a bedroom, a large bed against one wall and a shelf full of dead plants on the other. Everything was covered with a thin layer of dust, but that was pretty usual. Obviously no one had been keeping up with the cleaning.   

“Anyone done spirit box?” Grian asked, and Scar jumped and whirled around, finding him in the doorway. Grian giggled, and Scar huffed. 

“Not yet,” Impulse said, finally getting the tripod to settle. He looked over at them. “Want us to leave?”

“Not really,” Grian grumbled, starting to power up the spirit box. “But yes.”

Scar walked out of the door and Impulse followed him, closing it and leaving Grian in the room alone. Immediately, they heard the telltale singing introduction of Grian beginning to ask questions. The rest of the house was quiet. So far, everything had been entirely unremarkable.

“I’m going to go grab D.O.T.S and a book,” Impulse spoke suddenly, starting to walk away. “Maybe you could start grabbing some stuff for a polty pile?”

“Sure, will do,” Scar said, and started picking up objects from the table in the hallway. A lot of picture frames and spare wires, for whatever reason.

Grian opened the door to the room just as Scar arrived with his arms full, and Scar tilted his head at the odd look on the other’s face. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was wearing a faint frown. 

“What’s wrong?” Scar asked, curious. Normally, Grian came out of a spirit box session with wide eyes and immediately ran to the van. This was out of character.

“I think…” Grian started, contemplative frown getting more pronounced. “I think the ghost apologized to me.”

“...huh?”

“I asked where it was,” Grian said, spirit box slack in his hand. “And then it said something, and then I screamed, and then it— I could have sworn it said sorry. Like, for scaring me.”

“Oh,” Scar said, tilting his head. “Has that happened before?”

Grian shook his head slowly, staring at the spirit box for a minute before exhaling forcefully. “Let’s just keep going,” he said, shoving the device in his pocket. “We still have a job to do.” Then, into his walkie: “We’ve got spirit box, guys. One thing down.”

They kept doing their jobs like they normally would, but none of them could quite shake the sense of something being different.

Usually, the haunted locations they visited had a foreboding sort of feeling to them. They get in and out of those places as soon as possible, the feeling of imminent danger settling on their shoulders like a heavy jacket. There was none of that, here. It was obviously haunted, but it still just felt like... a house. It didn’t feel malicious at all. 

Impulse put a book down, and writing appeared a few minutes later. Just a single sentence, asking if they would water the plants on their way out.

They laid down D.O.T.S and stayed out in the van for a while, eventually seeing a tall, hazy figure pass quickly through. 

They caught ghost orbs on the video surveillance.

Impulse took the Ultraviolet flashlight and found fingerprints on the side of the video camera, like the ghost had been curious about it. 

The salt Grian had placed on the ground was smeared and scattered, almost as if the ghost had slipped on it instead of stepped in it. 

“If we discovered some new type of ghost,” Grian said eventually, muffled through his own hands covering his face, after hours of pouring over the conflicting evidence. “I am going to be upset.”

“None of this makes sense!” Impulse complained, flipping through the research journal that Scar had never touched. He was scowling at the pages like they’d personally offended him. “It won’t even hunt!”

“He seems kinda friendly,” Scar said, staring at the steady line of the EMF reader on the screen. “The poor guy just wants his plants watered. I don’t even have the heart to tell him that it probably wouldn’t help. Those things are dead dead.”

Impulse’s head thunked down on the table in front of him. “We’re so fired.”

In the silence following that statement, Skizz burst into the van, holding an object aloft in celebration.

“I found it!” Skizz yelled triumphantly, the wrinkly figure of the monkey paw clutched in his hand. “It fell behind some boxes. I told you it was here.”

“Oooh,” Scar said, rushing over in excitement. “What should we wish for?”

“A quick death?” Grian said flatly.

Scar waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve had too many of those. It gets kind of boring, believe it or not.”

“Let’s just wish to see it,” Impulse said, heaving himself up from his hunched position by the monitor. “We’ve done everything else we could do, let’s just do it.”

“Sure, why not,” Grian said, shrugging. “Let’s go out in a blaze of glory, then.”

“That’s the spirit!” Skizz laughed, and together the four of them marched back into the house.

The room was exactly as they’d left it, and Impulse took a moment to turn off the D.O.T.S. Then they stood in a loose circle, tense and determined. Whatever was happening here, it would be over soon. One way or the other. Maybe the company wouldn’t even bother to bring them back, this time. 

Skizz held the monkey paw aloft, dim light casting dramatic shadows on his face. “I wish to see the ghost!”

A finger on the monkey paw cracked and groaned as it bent down, and a chill swept across the room, quick and encompassing. Their flashlights flickered, and then died, leaving them in complete darkness. For a long moment, the only sound was their chorus of quick and shaky breathing.

When the lights turned back on, Scar was face to face with a ghost. A ghost that looked equally as startled as he was. 

Scar yelped and stumbled backwards, tripping over the open book on the ground and hurtling towards the bed. The ghost — a tall man with dark hair and an absolutely wonderful mustache — lunged forward and reached out as if to catch him, eyes wide and panicked. To be fair to the dead man, it absolutely would have worked if his hands were still a tangible thing; As it were, his attempt at grabbing Scar to keep him upright was rather rudely foiled by his outstretched hand passing right through Scar’s flailing arm.

Scar hit the bed with a grunt as various cries of alarm sounded out around him, light bouncing around the room haphazardly as the sound of clattering reached his ears; someone had dropped their flashlight, apparently. Scar laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling, dazed. 

“Oh gosh! I’m so— I didn’t mean to pop in like that, I—”

Scar looked up just in time to watch a crucifix fly through the air and pass harmlessly through the ghost’s head, hitting the wall with a thud and falling gracelessly to the floor. The ghost yelped and ducked — much too late, not that it mattered, anyway — and Scar’s gaze next landed on Grian, still standing there with his arm extended in a throwing motion, hand empty and eyes wide.

“What was that gonna do, G?!” Skizz asked hysterically, fumbling for his camera, accidentally snapping a picture of his own face and swearing when the light blinded him. 

Impulse had knocked over the tripod in all of the chaos, and was now frantically attempting to set it back upright. The ghost — Mumbo Jumbo — turned his anxious eyes on Scar, who for once was struck speechless, jaw slack. 

“Are you alright, mate?” Mumbo Jumbo asked, hands fidgeting together. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but— Well, you summoned me. There’s only so much to be done for that.”

With everyone else still scrambling about the room, Scar allowed himself a few seconds to process things. Most ghosts they’d come across — all of them, actually — had been nothing less than murderous and bloodthirsty. The cordial ghost of a perfectly normal man was not something they had been trained for, but that didn’t exactly mean that it was impossible. Sure, maybe it had come way, way out of left field, but Scar prided himself on rolling with the punches. He pushed himself up from the bed with a sheepish, charming smile. 

“It’s all good,” Scar said, bright and friendly. “For sure our fault, we summoned you and got surprised when you showed up. Kind of rude of us, I think. Your mattress is super comfortable, by the way.”

Mumbo Jumbo blinked, as if surprised by the onslaught of words, a confused little furrow appearing between his brows. “Thank you?” he said, glancing behind him at the bed. “It was…expensive.”

“I mean, hey! We spend a lot of our lifetime in a bed, right? Might as well shell out some cash for quality.”

“What are we doing?” Grian asked quickly, almost like he was talking to himself, hands pressed to his head in utter bafflement. “This is insane, what is happening.”

“Grian! Don’t be rude,” Scar admonished playfully, then turned back to grin at the ghost. “Mumbo Jumbo, right?”

The man nodded faintly. “Just…Mumbo is fine.”

“Sweet! I’m Scar,” Scar said, and then started pointing to his friends, all standing stock still in various stages of shock and confusion. “The rude one who throws stuff is Grian, that’s Impulse by the window, and over there is Skizz!”

“Nice to meet you?” Mumbo said, glancing around nervously. “I would offer to shake your hand, but…”

“God, this is weird,” Skizz blurted, eyes still wide but starting to relax his stance. “You do know you’re dead, right? We never actually get to ask any of the ghosts we meet.”

“Oh, I— Yeah, I’m well aware,” Mumbo said, laughing a little. “You’ve met other ghosts, then?”

“We’re ghost hunters,” Impulse said, and now that the shock was fading, Scar could see a spark of excitement in his eyes. “But I mean— We’ve never met any like you.”

“Mostly they want to kill us,” Grian said, stepping up next to Scar. “Are you sure you don’t want to kill us?”

“I don’t think I know how, much less want to,” Mumbo said, glancing out the window. “Did someone call you to find me? I’ve been trying not to scare anyone, but I suppose the lights might’ve done me in.”

“Yeah, that was pretty much what tipped them off,” Scar said apologetically. “A few too many weird things happen and boom, here we are.”

“What happens now?” Mumbo asked, chuckling nervously. “I mean, you found me. Job done, yeah?”

“Usually we figure out what type of ghost it is and the company sends out a specialized team to evict it,” Impulse answered, brow pinched in thought. “But normally that’s for safety reasons. You don’t seem like a threat. No offense.”

“Oh, none taken.”

“Can I ask how you died?” Skizz asked, eyes alight with curiosity. 

“Skizz,” Grian hissed. “You can’t just ask people how they died!”

“I was just wondering!”

“No, it’s— it’s fine,” Mumbo stuttered, and Scar had a feeling that if ghosts could blush, he would be doing it. “I… fell down the stairs.”

Scar nodded solemnly. “Could have happened to anyone.”

“So what are we actually going to do about this?” Grian asked, vaguely gesturing at the room. “It feels like it would be wrong to kick this guy out of his own house. He’s not really causing trouble.”

“Yeah, I— I do like my house,” Mumbo interjected, awkward smile on his face. “I’d rather stay, if that’s alright.”

“Someone’s bound to move in eventually, you know,” Skizz said, pitying frown on his face. “There’s already a for sale sign in the yard. The new owners might not be super ghost-friendly.”

Mumbo’s shoulders slumped, a dejected look on his face as he frowned at the floor. Scar felt a pang of sympathy grow in his chest, and he glanced out the window at the rows of houses down the street. 

It really was quite a nice neighborhood. 

“...You know,” Scar started, gaze drifting over to Grian, a slow smile forming on his face. “Our lease is almost up.”

Grian looked over at him, eyes already resigned, and sighed. 

Scar laughed, grinning, and Mumbo slowly smiled back.

[oifaaa]

i have a very important question for you... in your vampire au, how does the red hood helmet work? does it have little ears on it for jason's to not be squished? ear cutout holes? are they just jammed in there? does he not wear one at all?

The helmet has inbuilt ears but the hood has the ears poking out so it looks like this

[midnightlavenderimp]

ooooh what about smokey! (mac's smoke monster)

YOU MEAN MY FUCKING WIFE?!?!?!

[chaisshitposts]

AaaaaAJAJADHDJSKK

I enter the void finally after two years😭🥺😭🥺😭🥺😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺.

I can't tell you how happy I am. I just wrote 6 void affirmations like I enter void instantly, i always wake up in the void and so on then name the note as as I am a void master and I just did psych k using gamma waves for two times a day for 10 mins affirming I am a void master. I promised myself I will not waver this time and I just robotic affirm when I get time. While sleeping I recorded it in my voice and used it.

So on fourth day I finally woke up in the void which is today. I can't tell you how happy I am 😭😭😭.

I manifested-

Dream body

All my old grades to A+

Dream skin like literally flawless and beautiful

Dream house

The job which I want from a long time.

Healthy and happy family

And much more.

I freaking love you chai😘😘😘😘😘😘😘

Thank you.. Now gotta delete tumblr and gonna enjoy my lyf. 😭😭😭😭😭

words cannot describe the amount of joy I feel after reading this, I cannot even say anything that would even make sense.

bye anon, thank you for not givin' up on yourself and I hope you have the most amazing time living in creative mode.

[blushweddinggowns]

Prompt number 2 bc I’m praying for more jealous Steve content. Bc Eddie can be so oblivious and Steve can be such a bitch and those things are so important to me

Eddie was a glutton for self-punishment, that was the only reasonable explanation he could come up with on what the fuck he was doing here. Sitting at some random gay bar as he watched the man he loved dance the night away with his bestfriend.

He just had to volunteer to be their designated driver. Maybe it was stupid, but Eddie thought that y'know, a gay bar meant that no he would not have to watch Steve flirt with some randos. But he forgot the small detail that bisexual people existed. And he had seen at least three damn girls slip Steve their number.

Which was just...so fucking cruel. Why did life always have to do him so dirty? Eddie had thought that maybe...if they went to this type of place together Steve's mind would open up a bit. A stupid fucking thought honestly. Based off of nearly nothing. Like, okay sure, Steve was all touchy feely with him sometimes. When he was high or drunk suddenly Eddie became his personal chair. And he would say just...the sweetest shit. Going on and on about how happy he was to have met him, how he's so glad he's alive and well, how funny Eddie was, how nice and sweet and pretty and...and all of it had sent his traitorous brain into a tailspin that had him thinking he actually had a chance with a straight guy.

And the fucked up part was that Eddie had really tried to start doing the right thing. He put a little distance between them when he figured out that he was past a silly crush. No he was head over heels for the guy and he needed to get over it. Fast. And if he could just start saying no when Steve called to get high or have a few beers together he probably would have made some progress by now.

But no, he was still to eager for contact with him to say no. Which made him feel like a creep, always waiting around for Steve to be a little out of his mind just so he could get a hug.

When did he become so pathetic?

The only slight comfort he had tonight was the fact that he wasn't alone. It really wasn't fair to bring a straight guy to a place like this, but at least every guy who had eyes on Steve was going to have to suffer in silence with him.

And some of them were kind of cute. Cute enough for Eddie to try and use one as a distraction. He was sitting next to a preppy looking guy, talking to him a little bit. Maybe he shouldn't have set his eyes on someone that kind of looked like Steve, but fuck it. His name was Andrew, and he was nice, a good flirt. The perfect diversion for when Eddie could tear his eyes away from Steve.

And things were actually getting a little interesting with him. He had his hand on Eddie's arm, leaning in to loudly whisper everything he said in Eddie's ear. He was smiling at him, close enough for Eddie to see the pretty gold flakes in his eyes.

They weren't as pretty as Steve's but they'd do.

Andrew tucked a bit of Eddie's hair back behind his ear, leaning in again. But he didn't go for his ear this time, no, he was zeroing in right to Eddie's lips. Not that he was complaining, he let it happen, a sweet, light kiss that had zero time to escalate to more.

Because suddenly, someone was tugging at his arm, hard enough to force Eddie's whole body back, nearly out of his chair. He blinked, more than a little startled to see Steve coming out of nowhere, clinging onto him with that stupid, gorgeous smile.

"Eddieeee," Steve whined, completely ignoring Andrew's presence, "Robin ditched me to make out with someone in the bathroom."

Eddie couldn't help but smile a little bit, despite the fact that he was definitely interrupting what was probably the first good thing about this night. He glanced over at Andrew, who was staring at them, wide-eyed before saying, "Uh, I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

"I don't-"

"I can't hear you in here," Steve loudly interrupted, looking adorably confused, "Come outside with me?"

If Eddie was smart, he would have gently pried Steve's hands off him before sending him off to find Robin. But...a drunk Steve was also a very cute and cuddly one. So fuck it, Eddie could find a rebound for his non-existent relationship next weekend.

He shrugged at Andrew, mouthing a quick apology at him before Steve started to drag him outside through the back door. Eddie half expected Steve to do his usual routine when he was toasted. Sweetly asking for a piggy back ride that Eddie literally could never refuse before falling asleep on his back. Then he'd get him in the car, wrangle Robin from wherever the hell she was, and they'd be off.

But the second they were stepping outside Steve was straightening up and stepping back, to Eddie's immediate confusion. He leaned against the wall, glaring at Eddie in a way he had never seen. Or at least directed at him.

"So," Steve started, his tone way too close to how he sounded when one of the kids pissed him off, "Who was that guy? You looked pretty cozy in there."

Eddie's brain was still struggling to catch up to the change in atmosphere here. But he tried to answer anyway, "I mean we were but-wait. Why are you not drunk? You were literally just-"

"It's called acting dipshit," Steve mumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Which ow, rude. But his next words hurt even more, "Not like I have a choice, since you only seem to like me when I'm fucked up."

Eddie could feel his heart stop in his chest. He didn't-oh no. Oh god. Steve figured out he was a creep. A creep who was probably moments away from getting his ass handed to him.

Eddie swallowed, at a loss for what to say. But he still tried, "I-look dude it's um, it's not like that. I didn't- I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable-"

"Then why the fuck would you kiss another guy right in front of me?"

Okay. That was enough of that. Yes, Steve could be mad about him being creepy, but no he couldn't be mad over having to bear witness for a gay kiss at a gay bar, "Well if I had known that you were apparently only okay with seeing girls kiss each other I wouldn't have come out tonight at all! Honestly Steve, how can you even say that? Like that is some real dumbass levels of homophobia, even for you. I thought the King Steve thing had died-"

"Shut the fuck up oh my god," Steve hissed out, "Are you really that damn dense? That's what you think I'm upset about? Are you fucking kidding me? And I'm the dumbass?"

"Then why are you mad?" Eddie half asked, half yelled.

“I’m not mad," Steve seethed, like he didn't look about five seconds away from choking Eddie out, "I...I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

Maybe he really was drunk after all. Because now he wasn't making any damn sense.

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, beyond frustrated, "Who Steve? Like, I'm sorry to break this to you but not all of us can fucking look like you do alright? We're not all charming, golden Adonis basketball players okay? And sometimes you need to take what you can get. And there was nothing wrong with Andrew-"

"You think I look like a golden Adonis?" Steve interrupted, a weird expression on his face. He looked almost...hopeful? But that didn't make any sense.

"That's what you got out of that?" Eddie asked, exasperated, "I-come one dude. You know you're hot. But that's not my point."

"Well it's mine!" Steve groaned. He was biting his lips, a very distracting nervous habit that Eddie had picked up on, "Because what the fuck are we even doing? You think I'm so hot, so charming, so great, and you decide to kiss someone else in front of me? What the fuck is that? Do you like seeing me jealous? Do you get off on me pining? Please explain."

You see, that was the funny thing about Eddie's brain. One second he was lost, staring at Steve's red, bitten lips, and the next he was desperately trying to catch up with what just came out of his mouth. All of it the perfect blend to effectively shut his brain off completely.

Eddie stared at him, his words as dumb as how his face probably looked, "I-what? Huh?"

Steve narrowed his eyes at him, "Are we really doing this? Are you going to pretend like it's all in my head?"

"I-no. I just-please explain," Eddie is pretty damn sure he had never stuttered through a sentence that hard in his life.

"I've been coming on to you for months and you just keep giving me all of these mixed signals and..." Steve sighed, looking away, "I'm so sick of it Eddie. If you don't like me just say that! Stop whatever this is. Because it's mean and you know it. If you want a better option then just take it already and leave me alone."

He-what-that didn't even- Steve was straight, wasn't he? And now the stuttering had invaded his thoughts. Because if he actually understood all of that then...

He was the biggest idiot on the planet.

And his stunned silence was not helping anything.

Steve sighed, pushing himself away from the wall. He turned away, "I'm going to find Robin. We can just...act like this didn't happen I guess. I'm done."

Eddie had to give himself on thing, at least his body was working a lot faster than his brain. Steve barely had time to take a single step away before he was shooting his hand out to grab his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

"I didn't know you were an option!" Eddie blurted out, his heart hammering in his chest, "I-Stevie I thought all of it was in my head. I-I thought that you were straight and we were just hanging out-"

"You think I sit in the laps of my other guy friends?" Steve asked, completely unimpressed, "While playing with their hair and calling them beautiful? Really, dude?"

Eddie nodded, sure and fast, "Steve, I had to do my senior year three damn times. I'm not always the smartest okay? And in my defense you never mentioned like dudes-"

"Yes I have," Steve interrupted, "When you came out to me, I told you to your face that I understand. That I could relate about hiding things and not talking about it. I literally said we were in the same boat. What else could that mean?"

Eddie remembered that, crystal clear. But..."I thought you were talking about PTSD, not secretly being into dudes."

"One dude," Steve corrected, but he was relaxing a little, thank fuck. Maybe Eddie could still fix this.

He took a deep breath, using his hold on Steve's wrist to pull him closer. His hands were fucking shaking, bad enough for Steve to almost certainly notice when he rested them on his hips.

This was it, he might as well be as clear as humanly possible, "I am so into you. Like a scary amount. Like I'm...borderline in love with you."

He was completely in love with him, but he didn't have the balls to say that bit out loud. He kept going, "And I didn't know you felt the same way. At all. Like I am dangerously close to having a stroke from hearing all of that. You kind of flipped my world upside down there."

Steve huffed out a laugh. Eddie may have fucked up everything leading up to this point, but Steve was eating his little speech right up. He shuffled a little closer, wrapping his arms around Eddie's neck with a small smile, "Keep going."

"I thought that I had no chance. I mean even tonight, people couldn't stop looking at you. And you got those numbers-"

"I threw them away," Steve interrupted, "You missed that part."

He had definitely missed that part, too caught up in his own head. But that didn't stop a smile from breaking out on Eddie's face, "Good. Because if you want me, you have me. I'm all yours, in any way you want me. Understand? Fuck, Stevie if I had known any of this we'd be the ones making out in the bathroom right now. And I'm sorry about..."

For the life of him Eddie couldn't remember his name, not when he had Steve smiling at him in his arms, "The other guy. But it literally means nothing to me. Not if I get to have you. Do...do I get to have you?"

Steve hummed, pretending to think about it while he played with a lock of Eddie's hair, "I guess that depends. Is making out in the bathroom still on the table?"

"Fuck yes it is."

Steve grinned, leaning up to press the sweetest little kiss to the side of Eddie's mouth, "Then I guess you have me then."

[malenjoyer]

Good morning 🙏🏼

I want to thank everyone their support with reblogging my stuff over the years and reblogging some of the context of the situation.

Tumblr and Instagram is filled with the most supportive people I’ve ever had the chance of meeting. The last time something like this happened, I didn’t have much support, not even from people I thought were close to me. It took me a year or two to be okay with being perceived again in fandoms. So I’m very grateful for everything.

I just wanted to post that I appreciate all of the asks and I’ve been reading all of them. I actually get anxious I’m spamming everyone too much so I probably won’t reply to everything. Please don’t feel pressured to support me financially, there’s is a free option on patreon to follow. I’ll post future project plans and occasional updates because I still love comics and I still love DC/Marvel. I do enjoy having people following along for my art/reading journey so I would always be okay with people just following for free. My brain is telling me this post is too long now so I will go 🙏🏼😭

[vigilskeep]

a quick guide to dog lords, telling your arls from your teyrns, and generally how ferelden works

okay, this isn't quite what anon asked for, by which i mean not at all, but unfortunately they activated my interest in some of my favourite lore. it should hopefully contain a lot of the relevant stuff and i’ll try to branch out to less fereldan specific information in other posts!

okay, let’s start with the hierarchy. there’s four kinds of noble in ferelden

royalty: you know who these guys are. except for during the orlesian occupation, ever since ferelden became one kingdom, it’s been ruled by the theirin family. which i think is for 388 years, i really hope that’s right, i got out a calculator

teyrns: these are super powerful lords, basically banns so powerful that other banns swear fealty to them. they’re second only to the king, who is essentially just the most powerful one of them. there used to be a lot of them, but with one dynasty in power for so long, that kind of opposition has been eroded away. there are only two remaining: the couslands of highever in the north, and the mac tirs of gwaren in the south

arls: these are extra special banns. they answer to a teyrn or king and hold a strategic fortress for them. we know of six—amaranthine, south reach, denerim, redcliffe, west hills, and edgehall—but i’m unsure if that’s because they are only six or because there are unnamed others

banns: these are your common or garden noble, the lowest ranking and most common. this is your local lord type. they seem to vary the most in power, though, with some banns having big speaking roles in the landsmeet

but i kind of should have written that list in the opposite direction. what do i mean by that? well, in your standard medieval hierarchy, and in a lot of the rest of thedas, power comes down from the king, who lets you hold the land. but in ferelden, most of the land is owned by freeholders: commoners, well-off enough to own their land but still not by any means nobles.

how does that work? well, let’s say i’m a freeholder.

i own my land, but thedas is a rough place. if i want to keep my land, i’d better swear fealty to a bann. i’ll pay him a portion of the goods produced on my land, and in return, he’ll protect my land from anyone wanting to beat me up and take all my goods... and also, you know, not beat me up himself, as he probably would if i didn’t have any bann looking after me. it kind of sounds like he has all the power, right? like a medieval protection racket? it’s certainly how he gets his power and wealth

so i, freeholder harker, have signed up with bann jeff. it makes sense, because he’s the closest to my freehold, and i want soldiers to actually get here in time if i’m in trouble. that’s why my family has been swearing fealty to his family for generations. it’s just how things are done

but the thing is: i hate bann jeff. maybe he takes too much of my harvests, maybe he sides with a different freeholder when we go to him with a dispute, maybe his men don’t mind their pleases and thank yous when they come for my goods. i’m well within my rights to say fuck bann jeff and leave him. especially if there’s another bann nearby who would be perfectly happy to take my goods instead and treat me right. and the less freeholders bann jeff has, the less resources and men he has to make a fuss about it with. if bann jeff pisses off enough people, he might not have any freeholders left at all. and where will his wealth and power come from then? maybe soon he won’t be a bann at all

of course, bann jeff’s family might feud with the family of the bann that stole me away for a few hundred years. but that’s hardly my problem, is it? “courting” someone else’s vassals is apparently the biggest cause of conflict within the bannorn

anyway, this isn’t just how banns work; it’s how all power theoretically works in ferelden. there are no serfs/“unfree” men. every peasant has a right to go where he will and choose which freeholder he works for, just as every freeholder has the right to choose their bann, and banns who swear to teyrns can break away. (the latter is probably less common because a teyrn could fuck you up. i’m guessing you’d have to get the king’s backing about it to survive that.) and even the king answers to his lessers in the landsmeet, the super ancient gathering of nobles where law is made, which can override the king on any matter of law. (but they’re not going to do it if the king is really popular or powerful, because. you know. there’s a limit to all things called common sense and they would prefer not to get squashed about it.) but generally, everyone who holds power in ferelden has to curry favours with their so-called lessers in order to keep their goodwill.

everywhere else in thedas thinks this is weird as hell, by the way. having to court the approval of those beneath you? even the king having to do that? wtf? but the level of freedom means everything to fereldans. it’s their highest ideal and they’re really proud of it.

(the people who really don’t have a voice are what the ttrpg calls “low freemen”, which according to its handbook, consists of criminals, prostitutes, and elves. they still have the right to freedom of movement and to be paid for their work, but they’re not going to have freeholders and banns seeking their favour and speaking for them, and they typically have to resort to bribery for entrance to cities, their homes are bought and sold by others on a whim, things like that. ultimately it makes their position incredibly vulnerable to abuse, as we see in the games. i’m sure we’ve all played the tabris origin. there’s a reason the potential boon to get a bann for the alienage is so wild.)

so, let’s say you made it, everyone loves and/or tolerates you, and you’re a noble. what good does that do you and what can you do? firstly, you have a voice in the landsmeet, which is super important and means the king wants your goodwill and advice. more generally, you have three basic functions of a noble: raising taxes/tribute, commanding soldiers, and dispensing justice. nobles are expected to live off the wealth provided by their land and it would be hugely looked down on if they did work instead, with exceptions for, like, military careers and the chantry, which are respectable for their status. they raise militia from the commoners when necessary, and they also have trained soldiers or possibly knights (see postscript) in their service. that means you can protect your land and you can win glory and spoils when the kingdom goes to war, it also means you’ll be expected to provide those men when your liegelord calls for them. and lastly the law is their responsibility. remember how in the awakening dlc you had to make judgements as the arl of amaranthine? like that! the smaller scale you are, the smaller scale it’s going to be. in turn, if you want a dispute sorted by a higher power, you have to go up to your liegelord, maybe a teyrn or the king, or if you can’t get one of them, a more powerful bann or arl in the area. possibly the chantry would be an alternate option? if it’s just about finding someone you will both listen to, which is usually the main issue

some privileges other than the standard “power over those beneath you” that you can typically expect to belong to the noble class, even if it’s not specific to dragon age: the right to carry a sword, the right to have a coat of arms, the right to precedence on formal occasions and a special seat up front in your local chantry... sometimes niche ones, like fabrics and clothing that are only permissible to wear for people of a certain rank, so it distinguishes them. you can expect favours from/common class interests with your king, you would expect to be given a trial or treated chivalrously if things did not go your way, depending on era you might be captured for ransom in battle rather than killed outright, you probably have exemptions from certain royal taxation... etc. etc.

that’s what i have! i hope these are some helpful fundamentals and that anyone who has more knowledge than me on any aspect feels welcome to contribute it

P.S. as an aside, i’m a little confused about the fereldan use of knights. they definitely exist as lesser nobility, but i don’t understand how they fit into the hierarchy. a real knight was typically a vassal who held land from his liegelord and fought for him in exchange. i... don’t know how that works in the context of land ownership mostly going upwards. they’re definitely around, anyone addressed as ser is a knight, you have the knights of redcliffe and people like ser jory and ser cauthrien. (someone in an order like the templars has the rank of knight and gets ser and everything, but is not a noble.) as a rule of thumb i think generally they’re probably just members of noble families with that dedicated military training and no greater title to lay claim to? i’m basing that on stuff like nathaniel howe being sent as a squire to his mother’s cousin, a chevalier; if he’d completed that he probably would have been a knight unless/until he inherited his father’s place? i don’t know. i’m making this up. and on the other hand, there’s very little distinction in fereldan between your regular noble and a some kind of warrior class, which is why i struggle to see the purpose. (there are also inexplicable career soldiers who are not knights. what the hell is funding that upkeep and armour, buddy. you and whose land ownership? this is why you were fighting the darkspawn with your whole arms out, aveline. stop trying to imply ferelden has a standing army you can go off and join. yes i see you carver lore. i will not buy it.) ANYWAY, because knights are more prevalent in certain areas, i do wonder if it’s an import from the long orlesian occuption, based on the knightly order of chevaliers? i don’t fucking know. worth chewing on