#ANYWAYS ENJOY!!!

[noodles-and-tea]

Can you pleeeease make some more younger reddie drawings?? Or ANOTHER FANFIC

👀?

[ardenzia777]

Someone requested to me Cowboy Odysseus, and lucky for them i had time to kill, so uhhh, HERE'S COWBOY ODYSSEUS!!!

[apassingbird]

oooh for the sentences game: bucktommy + "You can stay the night, you know, if you want to."

"You can stay the night," Buck breathes out, tilting his head just so to give Tommy access to his neck. The man is clearly on a mission and who is Buck to deny him that. Besides, the light scratch of Tommy's stubble against his sensitive skin felt amazing, and it makes Buck wonder for the umpteenth time how he could ever live without it before. "You know, if- if you want to."

Tommy pauses then, mouth hovering just above Buck's pulse point. He hums quietly before pressing a quick kiss into Buck's skin. Then he leans back and just... looks at Buck.

"I-I mean, we're both off duty tomorrow, right," Buck says, words rushing out to fill the silence between them. "And- and it's already late, so I thought maybe- but you obviously don't have to-"

"Evan."

Tommy's voice is gentle as it cuts him off, his gaze softening into something that Buck can't quite describe. It does something to his inside, though; a low, steady humming spreading throughout his body, something entirely different from the fast, hot thrumming that's been buzzing beneath his skin for the past hour or so. Buck almost feels dizzy with it.

"Yeah?"

"You know you don't have to convince me, right?"

"I just-" Buck swallows, his hand flexing involuntary where it rests on Tommy's waist, the feeling of his naked skin against Buck's palm calming and exhilarating all at the same time. "I didn't want to assume."

"Yeah, I figured." Tommy's mouth curves up into a smile then, a small and private thing, as his hand smoothes over Buck's shoulder. His eyes flitters over Buck's face before falling to his neck. Carefully, he presses his fingertips into the tender skin there, the same bruised spot his mouth had occupied mere moments before. "But-"

"What?" Buck exhales shakily, feeling like his entire body is set alight. Tommy drags his eyes away from his neck, then, his gaze heavy as it locks with Buck's. He uses his hand to pull Buck closer and presses a kiss to his lips.

"But," he murmurs, his breath hot against Buck's mouth, "you can assume."

[simelune]

recolor dump

originally started as me wanting some of the swatches from one of the new toddler tees for kids turned into several recolors lol... all info and credit for the patterns/pngs under the cut!

these should all be BGC, let me know if there's any issues!

download: google drive (UPDATED!!)

1. silly tees - 10 swatches from a new toddler shirt in Growing Together - properly color tagged - no custom thumbnail

2. cam shorts - 42 swatches to match most of the tees - properly color tagged and sorted for easy finding - no custom thumbnail

3. noah tees - 12 swatches, uses various patterns from @pluto-sims y2k patterns (thank you!) - properly color tagged - no custom thumbnail

4. cam tees - 13 swatches, uses several graphics from @adrasteamoon werewolves graphics and @surprisepeach vintage simlish designs (thank you!) - properly color tagged - no custom thumbnail

5. noah shorts - 20 swatches from @softerhaze wildflower palette + a black and white - properly color tagged - no custom thumbnail

[pretentiouswreckingball]

✯my entry for the @croptopjames fest✯

jegulus | 1.3k | non-canon/magical au

summary:

It was revenge, they say, for a prank they played on the other houses. So if Lupin and Pettigrew got their trousers turn into shorts, and Black got his shirt turn into a crop top, then that means Potter—

“Did you hear what happened?”

“They say it was revenge for a prank on the other houses,”

“Seems like a weird way to take revenge,”

“Someone said it was a new statement for the dress code,”

“Of course those Gryffindors would come up with something like that,”

“Mila from my transfiguration class says someone charmed their clothes to transform into something else whenever they wear it. You know, trousers turn into shorts and—”

“Oh, so that’s why Lupin and Pettigrew were wearing shorts! But why was Black’s shirt cropped? Not that I mind the view but—”

“Maybe the spell worked in pairs? If Lupin and Pettigrew got shorts, and Black’s shirt was cropped, then maybe Potter got—”

But Regulus had heard enough.

He should’ve known something was off the moment he crossed Lupin and Pettigrew earlier that day wearing shorts of all things, but if he was completely honest with himself, his mind was somewhere else and didn’t even think twice about it. But now, after eavesdropping on a conversation of some sixth years, maybe he shouldn’t have been so dismissive.

Entering the Great Hall for lunch, Regulus makes a b-line for his seat at the end of the Slytherin table and starts filling his plate absentmindedly, trying to ignore the sight of his brother at the Gryffindor table, talking animatedly to Lupin and Pettigrew, still in those ridiculous clothes. His mind inevitably going to the person who’s conveniently, not among them.

The thing is, Regulus isn’t capable of thinking of a piece of clothing that would look bad on James Potter.

He has seen the guy practising on the Quidditch pitch for Salazar’s sake. He has had a front row of what James’ body looks like when he leans on his broom, quaffle in hand, gaining some speed over his fellow teammates. He has seen how his forearms look when he grips the handle hard and how his thighs squeeze the rear of the broom when he’s doing a particularly hard move so he doesn’t fall.

So no, he doesn't think there’s a piece of clothing that would look bad on him, he could pull any look, especially a crop top, and that is the problem, isn’t it?

Regulus could feel his cheeks warming at the thought. Oh no this is bad, what he’s going to do if he sees him wearing that? He’s going to make a fool of himself and he can’t afford that. No, Regulus needs to get the fuck out of there if he wants to make it with his dignity intact.

Practically stuffing his face, Regulus tries to be as quick as possible, cursing in his mind at the idiot who hexed James Potter to be stuck with that particular piece of clothing, or lack thereof, more like.

“Let it not be said that we don’t do anything nice for you, Regulus,” a voice comes from behind and Regulus freezes and then groans.

Looking up from his plate, he eyes the pair who has taken the seats in front of him, both looking smug as fuck, “You guys are unbelievable,”

Evan hums in agreement, “Aren’t we just?”

“Wasn’t a compliment,”

Barty tuts disapprovingly, stealing a piece of food from Regulus' plate and popping it in his mouth, “Why Regulus, we thought you would be thrilled by this, can’t believe you’re this ungrateful.”

“Crop tops, really?” He huffs, stabbing whatever is left of his chicken, “And don’t get me started on the shorts.”

“Those were my idea,” Evan mentions.

Regulus doesn’t get it, “Why though?”

“We couldn’t be so obvious and only hex Potter, we had to cover our traces,” Barty says, turning his head slightly to look at the Gryffindor table. “Besides, the others look ridiculous, minus your brother of course, the bastard is fit as fuck.”

“Why though?” Regulus repeats, this time even more aggravated at the notion of Barty ogling his brother.

Evan gives him a pointed look, “You know why,”

Regulus drop his gaze, sniffing lightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

Barty smirks at him, “You will,”

There’s a sudden ruckus at the entrance. The voices grow loud and you could hear some whistles here and there but what actually catches Regulus’ eyes when he looks up, is the man at the doors.

Something inside him is pleased to notice he was right about James looking good in any piece of clothing, especially something that would show his really fit body. James is looking a little dishevelled, but that only makes him look even prettier. Still enthralled by the sight of James Potter wearing something this sinful, Regulus notices a little too late a voice shouting really close to him, efficiently taking him out of his rivery.

“Looking good, Potter!”

“Barty!” Regulus hisses in embarrassment as James looks in his direction. And oh, the way he smiles at Regulus as soon as their eyes connect.

Regulus is incapable of doing much else under the intensity of that look, he wants to run like he had planned before. He wants to hide, not only from James but from the way he feels when he’s near. Pathetic as it is, the only thing Regulus is capable of doing is following James as he makes his way to the Slytherin table.

Regulus blinks hard at that. Wait, Slytherin table?

Before Regulus can process that, James is already standing right in front of him.

“Rosier, Crouch,” he greets them, still not taking his eyes off Regulus.

“Potter,” Barty nods in his direction. “Nice shirt, does it come in men’s?”

James grin turns sharp, “You don’t want me to answer that, Crouch,”

“Okay, time to go, have a great one!” Evan practically drags Barty aways as the latter cackles like a madman all the way out of the Great Hall.

When his laugh fades, James is still in front of Regulus and Regulus is purposefully looking at anything but his face, so his gaze inevitably fall at the only thing at his eye-level, James’ stomach.

There are beads of sweet running down over that beautiful golden skin and all Regulus wants, is to touch it to see if it’s as soft as it looks. Wondering how it would feel under his teeth.

James clears his throat to catch Regulus' attention. Unnecessary, since he hasn’t lost it the moment he entered the Great Hall.

“So, Regulus,” he starts.

“Yes?” He can see the trail of hair disappearing under the navy trousers. He’s having a hard time not to reach out and touch it.

He’s being so brave about this whole thing, someone should notified his mind-healer.

A beat of silence and then a hand, reaching for his chin and turning his face up, callous fingers against his soft skin. The sight of James’ playful smile makes something inside him melt.

“My eyes are up here, love.”

His cheeks get warmer out of the embarrassment of being caught. Not that he was subtle in the least but still, embarrassing.

James doesn’t seem to mind in the least.

“You’re blushing,” he notices.

Regulus' face is practically red at this point.

“Shut up,” he grumbles and James chuckles.

“No, no, I like it,” he says, voice soft. “Red looks good on you,” and then he proceed to fucking caressing his cheek.

It’s settled then, Regulus is living inside a romantic novel where making a fool out of yourself in front of someone you fancy is necessary and crop tops are a thing.

“What do you want?”

“Just wanting to say hello,” James says, eyes softening. “Hello,”

“Hi,” Regulus says, like an idiot.

“Fancy a Quidditch game with me?”

Regulus frowns. “Right now?”

“Why not?”

“You’re not wearing the proper gear,”

James smirks, “I think I will manage,”

This is a bad idea, a terrible one and Regulus knows it, everyone knows it and yet— “Lead the way then,”

James lets his hand drop from his face, and it takes all of Regulus not to chase the touch, but the feeling of loss is quickly replaced with excitement when he sees James holding his hand up for Regulus to take.

Regulus does, of course he does.

Hand in hand, they make it to the Quidditch pitch.

Together.

[weekly-gordie]

Week one Gordie drawing!

[blindmagdalena]

Trick & Treat

18+ 2.1k Dullahan!Homelander x F!Reader. established relationship, body horror, dirty talk, cunnilingus, cream pie. written for monsterlander mania

A world in which all supes are the results of humans experimenting on one another with the blood of Fae from the Seelie Courts. Homelander is one such amalgamation, and as a result of his Gan Ceann blood, he has a particularly neat party trick to show you. 

Homelander always kisses you like he means to devour you. You’re certain he could, especially when your teeth touch the sharp juts of his canines. Never do they seem more like fangs than when he’s dragging them along your throat, licking the salt from your skin with a wicked, hungry noise.

“You said you were going to show me a trick,” you remind him with a giggle, carding your fingers through his hair.

“Mmmm, that I did,” he hums, walking into you, forcing you backwards until the back of your legs bump his bed. You laugh as he gives you a gentle push, sending you down onto the plush bedding with a bounce. “Think you can handle it? It’s an awfully spooky trick,” he warns, those fangs of his flashing in a brilliantly white smile.

Sitting up, you scoot forward on the bed so that you can begin working his belt loose. “I’ve handled everything else you’ve thrown at me, haven’t I?”

Dating Homelander has more or less been a gauntlet of how many strange quirks you can endure from a single partner. You’ve grown accustomed to his fussiness when it comes to the rules of hospitality, his severe aversion to any and all iron, his penchant for milk–he likes it best when you leave it out for him unprompted–and most importantly of all, his deep love of jokes and trickery.

“True,” he supposes, cupping either side of your face. He strokes the rise of your cheeks, smiling down at you with the kind of tenderness that makes your stomach flip.

Returning his smile, you tug at the zipper of his pants, but he stops you. “Ah ah ah. I’ll be the one giving you head tonight, missy. But first,” he says, which tells you he most definitely has a scheme in mind. “Undress for me.”

Huffing a playful breath, you withdraw your hands and instead pull off your own shirt. You shimmy out of your pants and underthings next, leveling Homelander with an expectant look once you’re fully undressed. He lets out a low whistle, leaning down to kiss you. “It’s like a self-opening present. Never gets old,” he says, nipping at your bottom lip.

“What’s the trick?” You ask, bouncing lightly on the bed. 

He laughs. “So impatient! Fine, fine, alright, Christ,” he says, reaching up to the collar of his suit. He unzips a concealed zipper, and tugs the opening loose. Watching you, he places both hands flat over his temples, and gives you one last lingering look, lips curled in a devious grin. “Y’ready?”

Apprehension crawls into your gut and nestles there, your own smile faltering slightly. “Ready…”

You jump when he snaps his head to the side with a strange sound. It almost sounded like the tear of velcro, and before you can question what the hell it was, the wind is knocked completely from you when he lifts his head clean off his neck. No connective tissue, no blood, no gore. He simply holds his head up like a trophy, the bottom of it an empty, black abyss.

“Surprise!” He says, his disembodied head still grinning as he suddenly holds it out to you.

You scream, scrambling back on the bed, your eyes wide. “What the fuck! Oh my god, what the fuck? What the fuck, Homelander!?”

He starts laughing, kneeling on the bed. “Whaaat? I thought you liked tricks,” he says, placing his head on the bed while he adjusts his collar. “Yeah, we don’t advertise this one too much. Freaks people out,” he says, rolling his eyes. It’s beyond surreal to watch him emote like this, his neck cushioned by the bedding while his body continues to operate behind him.

Mouth agape, you continue to stare at him, a morbid curiosity slipping in amidst the horror. “How… How is this possible?”

“Same bullshit that makes flight and laser vision possible,” he says, watching you. It takes you a moment, but beyond the perverse enjoyment of your shock, you’re sure you see a flicker of apprehension in his expression. He’s waiting, you realize.

Waiting to see how you’ll respond. If you’ll reject him.

These are often the stages of your relationship with Homelander. He parts the curtain of himself bit by bit, daring you to flee with each confession about his existence. This is by far the most alarming reveal so far.

“Does it hurt?” You ask, the tension in your body easing.

He looks surprised, as if no one has ever asked him that before. Behind him, his body shrugs. “Uh, nope. Feels like stretching.”

“This is insane,” you say, crawling towards his head. Of all the things supes are capable of, you’ve never seen anything like this.

His smile slowly returns. “Pick me up.”

Your expression blanches. “What?”

“C’mon! Pick me up. Gimme a kiss,” he says, puckering his lips, coaxing you with kissy sounds.

Oh god.

“I…” You sigh. “...Alright, I’ll… Okay. Let me just…” You slip your hands behind his jaw, cupping the back of his neck, using your thumbs to brace him from tipping forward. “Oh, god, okay, I don’t want to drop–your head is really heavy,” you grunt, surprised by the density of it.

“Thirteen pounds, baby,” he confirms proudly.

“I was sure all the hot air would lessen the load,” you say, hefting him up to your eye level.

“Veeery funny,” he drawls. “Kissy time.”

After one last beat of hesitation, you lean in, bringing him close as you do. Closing your eyes, kissing him feels like it always does. His lips are as hungry for yours as ever, coaxing them into a dance. If not for the weight of all thirteen pounds of his head in your hands, you might forget anything was different at all.

Distracted, you don’t notice the bed dip behind you until you feel Homelander’s gloved hands on you, pulling your back to his chest, startling you. “God,” you gasp as you look back, a shiver running up your spine at the image of his headless torso poised behind you. “That is so fucking scary,” you say, returning your gaze to his head in your hands.

“Relax, babe,” he purrs, licking his lips. “You got your trick. It’s only fair you get a treat now.”

“What do you–oh!” You startle at the press of his fingers between your thighs, grip tightening on his skull. “You seriously want to–to fool around like this?” You ask, unable to do anything but fall back against his chest while his fingertips stroke your clit, his other hand sliding up your side, cupping your breast.

“Do I seriously want to eat your pretty pussy while I fuck you? Uh, yeah. I do,” he says, which admittedly lights a spark right at your core. “C’mon, sweetheart. Like this,” he says, taking his hand from your chest to grab a handful of his own hair, pushing your hold on him down, bringing his head between your legs. He nudges your knees further apart with his own, and brings himself close enough to drag his tongue over your clit, glancing up to watch you shiver, the glint in his eyes downright wicked.

“This is so weird,” you say, but it fades off into a moan as his tongue swirls. He only stops so that he can suck his own fingers into his mouth, thoroughly wetting them before he returns to licking your clit while his spit-slick fingers stroke your cunt, rubbing back and forth a moment before slowly sliding in.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, hips jerking. “Oh, ffffuck…”

It’s almost like being in bed with two different people at once. Homelander is as voracious as ever, licking and sucking every drop that spills from you. You feel his tongue lap at where your pussy is stretched around his fingers before dragging back to your clit, lips closing on it while the pointed tip of his tongue swirls.

“That’s it,” he says between the drags of his tongue. “Taste so fuckin’ good, babe. Ready for me?” He asks, slipping his fingers free. You’re not left hanging for long, the wet head of his cock eagerly nudging your pussy. He moans at that first hot press, giving a playful little growl as he nuzzles against your cunt, sucking hungrily at your clit.

“Yeah, yes, yes, m’ready,” you pant, thighs shaking. His head is getting heavy, but his tongue feels too good to let go of, or even adjust. “Don’t stop, keep–keep doing that.” He eagerly complies, humming against you while the head of his cock splits you open in one slow delicious slide.

You’ve had his head between your legs, and you’ve had the fullness of him inside you, but never could you have imagined both at once. The sheer heat of him is overwhelming, and you shudder bodily against him. His arms move to either side of you, and he nudges your hands out of the way, taking his head from them and relieving you of the weight.

“Touch me,” he groans against you, bracing you firmly in place within the bracket of his arms. You do so readily, slipping one hand into his hair while your other falls to his thigh, gripping it tight. He snaps his hips harder, knocking a moan out of you as he picks up a rhythm, his tongue never once faltering. Your breaths grow pitchier the faster he moves, his arms giving you nowhere to squirm, no reprieve while he fucks and devours you to his hearts content.

All you can do is hold on.

“I-I’m gonna come,” you whine, struggling to get the words out with the way each crack of his hips knocks the breath from you, edging you closer and closer to your climax.

“Me too,” he murmurs, though you feel it more than you hear it. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Do it. Wanna taste it when you come on my cock.”

“Fuck, fuck, Homelander, Homelander!” You cry, your nails biting into the fabric of his suit, yanking hard on his hair as your body locks up. The orgasm that hits is torrential, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you. Your thighs shake, and if not for Homelander’s arms braced on either side of you, holding you tight to his chest, you’d collapse. 

All the while he sucks and licks you through it, fucking greedily into your quivering pussy, gasping hot and wet against your clit as he comes, too, fucking it into you as deep as he can while lapping up whatever spills on his tongue.

You sink back against him, loose-limbed and shuddering. Every pass of his tongue earns a jerky little thrust from you, the wet slide of it creating a burst of little aftershocks of pleasure.

Eventually, overstimulation begins to edge out your enjoyment. “Okay,” you rasp, giving his hair a gentle tug at the same time you pat his thigh. “Okay, good, good boy, that was… Fuck.”

Homelander pulls off of your clit with a pop, humming a pleased little purr. You completely collapse against him as he lifts his arms from you–lifting them over your head like the bars on a rollercoaster–and takes his head with him as he does. You hear a shuffle of fabric, and then an odd kind of crunch not unlike the one you heard when he first popped it off.

“Mmmmm…” He sighs, wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling at your neck. As he tenderly kisses up your neck, it's good to feel his lips where you expect them to be relative to his body again. “God, I’ve been thinkin’ about that for awhile,” he says, nipping playfully at your ear.

“I can confidently say that I had never once considered that,” you say, your words half slurred. You barely feel like your own head is attached after how hard you came.

He laughs, the heat of his breath on your ear giving you goosebumps. “Think you’d do it again?” He asks, voice pitched low and wicked, but you can hear the slight edge to his voice. You’ve been with him long enough to know that he wants to know that you liked it. That you like him. 

You turn to look at him over your shoulder, and you can’t help but smile. You kiss him, licking the shared taste of you both from his lips. He squeezes a little moan out of you, hugging you like he’ll never let you go.

“Yeah,” you say softly, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. Part of you is surprised you don’t feel some kind of seam. “In a heartbeat.”

[anuspastor]

New coat for peepaw :)

y'all deserve to see m brain's meltdown on the sides too

[nejiretai]

─── @yokintsugi said : ❛ i would do it all again ❜

immortality , far  from  the  blissful  existence  many  imagined. cursed  to  wander  the  earth  endlessly , witnessing  the  ebb  and  flow  of  time  as  mortals  succumbed  to  the  inevitable  grip  of  old  age  and  other  mortal  afflictions. he  had  endured  it  all , a  lonely  existence  chosen  over  the  heartbreak  of  standing  by , ageless , as  those  he  cherished  met  their  end. after  his  brothers’  passing , he  chose  solitude , their  memories  eternally  glowing  in  the  recesses  of  his  mind.

this  life  was  no  choice  of  his  own. he  never  sought  to  be  a  monster , burdened  with  sharp  teeth  and  an  insatiable  thirst  for  blood. it  was  a  fate  imposed  upon  him  by  his  father’s  cruelty , a  legacy  that  haunted  their  family. forced  into  this  existence , choso  found  himself  condemned  to  an  eternity  of  suffering. expectations  were  low , and  if  anything , the  deep  slumber  he  endured  for  nearly  two  centuries  felt  preferable  to  the  relentless  misery  of  every  waking  moment. immortality . . .  a curse  etched  upon  his  very  being , painted  a  bleak  canvas  of perpetual  sorrow  that  he  had  come to  reluctantly  accept.

then  he  encountered  a  human , but  not  just  any   human — higuruma. in  a  twist  of  fate ,  choso’s  heart  had  been  stolen  far  sooner  than  he  could  have  anticipated. the  taste  of  his  blood  proved  intoxicating , hinting  at  something  more  profound. whatever  remained  of  choso’s  soul  became  entwined  with  him , an  attachment that  refused  to  let  go. 

gazing  at him now , both  bearing  the  same  distinctive  marks  on  their  face , he  couldn’t  resist  reaching  out  to  trace  those  shared  symbols. his  fingers  danced  delicately  along  the  other’s  skin , a  gentle  exploration  that  moved  from  the  markings  to  a  lingering  touch  down  his  nose , savoring  the  connection  that  had  unexpectedly  woven  their  lives  together.

❛❛  i  just  do  not  want  you  to  regret  this.  ❜❜  for  a  moment  sadness  flashed  in  his  eyes. the  thought  of  watching  his  love  grow  older  hurt. and  yet , here  they  were , destined  to  always  roam  this  world  with  each  other.  ❛❛  you’re  stuck  with  me  now. there’s  no  turning  back.  ❜❜

[yuibara-a]

❛❛ I'm fine ! there's no need to fuss , geto-san ❜❜ he held his usual smile but the moment he shifted in the bed pain shot down his body. a mission that was supposed to be quick and easy quickly turned into something far worse . . . something haibara hadn't been ready for. perhaps that was the reason for the guilt he felt at failing to take down the curse. he only wanted to get better ( good enough to be praised by those he looked up to ). instead , everyone seemed to be worrying over his latest injuries. ❛❛ I'm not dead yet. it'll take more than that to knock me down ! ❜❜ / @eatcurses

[vesselmade-a]

akiba was an interesting place. to itadori there was plenty of stimuli almost as though it were a whole other world. it was a place full of pop culture – video games , manga and even the occasional cosplayer passing by. yuji couldn't hide his excitement. fushiguro look at that ! and this ! even with the noise of the city he seemed to be much louder. his curious nature led him to every store and by now he had two bags of items he'd bought so far. like a wide-eyed child he just couldn't stop. though he was happy to have company today even if he was oblivious to the others apparent mood.

❛  do  you  ever  stop  talking ?  ❜ / @jikoku

“ now , fushiguro , that's not the kind of attitude to have on our day off. ” he fiddles around a moment , taking out a pair of toy glasses he'd bought earlier and slips them on. he flashes a wide smile and looks over to his friend. already distracted again his eyes go wide. he seemed to be unable to keep his wallet shut today as he spots food. “ hey ! we should go eat a kebab ! oh , wait , maybe sushi. ”

[alexanaraxadel]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Willow (TV 2022) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Elora Danan/Graydon Hastur, Jade Claymore & Graydon Hastur, Thraxus Boorman & Graydon Hastur, Kit Tanthalos & Graydon Hastur, Willow Ufgood & Graydon Hastur Characters: Graydon Hastur, Elora Danan (Willow), Kit Tanthalos, Jade Claymore, Willow Ufgood, Thraxus Boorman, Kenneth cameo Additional Tags: Angst, lots of angst :), Grief/Mourning, featuring zivian hastur being the worst father ever, Eventual Plot, Angry Elora, a graydon tribute from every character's perspective, elora's section is longer than everyone else's combined because, #graylora Summary:

Growing up, Graydon Hastur had always been told that he would be forgotten. He heard it first from his father, over and over and over again, and as a child raised on stories of legends and heroes, he’d been despondent.

So is it any wonder that now, an adult trapped in hell, unable to return to Galladoorn and for all intents and purposes dead to the living, he felt like a self-fulfilling prophecy?

...and all the ways they prove him wrong.

Or: 5 times his questmates mourn Graydon, and the 1 time it's Elora.

[jotasuis]

How I found out about trump getting shot

[james-p-sullivan]

the older i get and the closer i am to reaching 30, the more the people around me try to deny me my age. it’s a constant ‘oh you’re just turning 29 again teehee 🤭’ or ‘dont tell your SO that, he’ll leave you for a younger model 😉’ and i just???? hate it?????????

i spent my entire teenaged years fighting for my life. i crawled through the deepest pits of my depression to cling to the promise of a life beyond that pain. i was so convinced that i was going to die young, that i would never see the grace of my age starting with a 2, let alone 3.

so im going to turn 30, and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do to stop me from loving it.

[mythtakens]

“these characters should be mentally healthy before they get together 😌” ummm no I actually think we should smash their mental illnesses together like clumps of play-doh and see what colors it makes

[seagiri]

when did this happen???