#and i hate that i have to specify that

[gingerbreadmonsters]

wrapped up in clover

or: FOR YOU ARE MINE, AT LAST.

gn!reader, warnings for manipulation, unhealthy romantic relationships and major (canonical) character death, i’m really really sorry. the out-of-nowhere companion to here we are in heaven - look, this is just what happens when you leave me alone with a love song, alright? inspired by ‘at last’ by etta james. takes place pre-cataclysm, with major spoilers for ‘Worth Dying For’. you have been warned! damien throwing stones at glass houses in 1400 words or less.

once again, just to reiterate - warnings for imperium grimdarkness, heavily implied abusive behaviour towards the listener character, major character death, and heavy heavy spoilers for ‘Worth Dying For’. mind the warnings, and you are reminded that you can stop reading at any point if you feel uncomfortable. dead dove: do not eat. reader discretion is advised. minors dni. please consider yourself warned.

We’re happy together.

A crown is not a very easy thing to wear, to be honest.

It’s heavy, and it’s awkward, and it never really sits right on your head. It means that people look at you, and talk about you, and try to use you to get what they want. It means that you have to make speeches on TV, and live in a great big palace, and try not to tear your hair out at the endless stupidity of every godforsaken consul and advisor and High Councillor.

And, worst of all, it means he can’t ever be with you.

People have talked about him since the day he was born. It was to be expected. The only son of Queen-Imperial Sofia, the humanborn woman who rescued the Imperium from the collapse of Emile’s line, who in the most terrifying time of chaos in living memory found clarity. Strength. The foundations of a new age. A heroine of the people, an iron fist in a velvet glove. Turning outwards, ever outwards, from the son she should have loved to the people she claimed to.

What do you do when your mother’s a fairy tale? Pencil drawings can’t kiss you goodnight.

Since before he can even remember, there have been eyes upon him. Upon his face, upon his fate, upon the future of a world that by all known logic should have faltered and died decades ago. The Imperium is his by blood, by right, by determination. If he’s going to be a good king, a great king - and he is, make no mistake - then he might as well give them something to watch.

(That’s you, by the way. They’re watching you. Smile.)

How had you even met? He’s not sure. It’s hazy, the way that memories from when you’re very young tend to be. No matter who you ask, it’s always different - although, to be perfectly honest, it’s not like it actually matters. Semantics. These aren’t the sorts of things they write in history books. You’re here now, aren’t you? Good. Then the matter’s settled.

It is a funny story, though, don’t you think? A little boy with a heart made of sand, dry and coarse and crumbling, falling through his fingers and scraping against his skin. The smell of salt and the rush of the ocean washing over him, soaking through him. Bucket and spade in hand, a sunny afternoon becomes a beautiful palace, covered in shells and pretty stones, and the big round moat is scooped out with two pairs of hands.

How on earth had you managed it? Tumbling into his life, turning his head, teaching him all the things that he’d never thought to learn. One minute you’re his best friend, sitting on a gilded swingset in an ornamental garden. The next, you’re all grown up, framed in the mirrors on the ballroom wall, and he has to fight not to melt his cufflinks at the sight of you dancing with another man.

A sandy, empty soul, covered in grit and salt and seaweed - his palms flare with fire as the breath catches in his chest when you walk by, as the butterflies settle in his stomach when you hold out your hand for him to kiss. Hotter and hotter, until it’s molten glass dripping down his wrists, vitrifying right in front of his eyes. Sparking and glowing with passion, scorching little trails up his sleeves, a hissing chorus of mine mine mine in the furnace of his ribs.

It’s you. It’s always been you. Cool water running through a scalding heart, steam filling his aching lungs until it’s all he knows how to breathe.

Maybe it was all his mistake. It’s possible, you know. Maybe he’d given you too much, too quickly. Maybe he’d overdone it just a bit. Unempowered people can be unstable, unpredictable, reckless - and despite what he’d thought, it turns out you’re no different.

Was it inevitable? Was there anything, was there ever anything he could have done to stop things turning out this way? He isn’t sure. Ever since you two were little, you’ve never been one to keep your mouth shut. The lessons never stuck. Justice is a tricky business, but it helps to have a crown prince on your side - that is, until a coronation changes everything, and you’re both in over your newly-crowned heads.

You’ve always been good at games, no matter the rules. They’ve always said he’s the one with the sharp tongue. Yours, it seems, is made of silver.

Moonlight in your mouth, he’d thought he could save you. The isolations, the therapy, the sessions he wasn’t allowed to know about. You wouldn’t stop talking. The plausible deniability. You wouldn’t stop looking. The gentle hand under your chin gets hotter, harsher, until molten metal spills out over your lips and pours down your throat, coating your teeth and searing the roof of your mouth, but even now you still don’t stop.

It’s unfortunate. What’s the phrase? Morbid curiosity, maybe. You, wanting to see how far you could push before it all came crashing down on your head. Him, wanting to see just how you’d look when, one way or another, you finally broke. Can you really be a martyr if nobody even knows you were alive in the first place?

Stacks of paper crumble into ash, bridges burning in your wake. Justice isn’t blind, and the walls have ears. This isn’t the sort of court you were made for.

There have always been some rather… antiquated Imperial traditions, it’s true. Some are nicer than others, but most have stood the test of time. Old habits, old ways that he’s never really seen the point in arguing with. It would be more trouble than it’s worth, to waste time trying to get rid of them.

One of those traditions is that, depending on the magical race of the Monarch-Imperial, the practices of the Imperial government are changed accordingly. Most of the time it’s little things, like the embossments on the paper or the colour of the accents on the curtains. Insignificant. Inconsequential. What’s that saying again? If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Ah, traditions. Watching them light the kindling at your feet, he’s starting to think that maybe he should have fixed this one.

(It could have been worse. Imagine if he’d been a shifter.)

It’s fine. You’re fine. Fire has always been kind to you, hasn’t it? Well. He’s always been kind to you, and as far as anyone here is concerned, that’s the same thing. That’s what this is, then. Kindness. Benevolence, of the sort he thinks you’d be proud of. The suffering of one for the good of many - and you’ve always been the type to take everyone’s burdens on yourself. You must have known. Wasn’t this what you wanted?

You won’t struggle, will you? No? Good. It will all be over soon.

A glass heart, cold and hard and utterly bulletproof. Perhaps you were right. Perhaps he really is too possessive. What does it matter now? Allow him this, just once more. Flames bite at the soles of your shoes, but you don’t say anything. You’d better be quick. You don’t have long. Looking at him, you’re looking at him, but not like everyone else does. They look, but you see. The boy he was, the man he’s become. What do you see now?

You’re mine, and I’m yours, and nothing in this world is going to change that.

No more second chances. Ashes to ashes and all that. You have always, always been his. What a shame, that this is how you choose to prove it. The element of his control, and the one thing he could never master. How poetic. Hotter and hotter - through the smoke, silver starts to melt, bubbling over cracked, blistering skin.

In all the shapes and forms that you take in my life.

The ultimate act of surrender. Glass bubbles in your blood - the smell of salt, the sound of the ocean, and a lovely sandcastle covered in shells. In life, you gave yourself to fire. One way or another, you were always destined to burn.

take a trip to the other side of the mirror?

masterlist

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

[katabay]

desmond & friends modern day assassin sequences…..I miss you……..

[arttsuka]

Based on somewhat real events

I spent way too much time drawing this...

But yeah, Ford finally saying thank you

A continuation (kinda)

[magichats]

all the news going around with unity's really got me worried for games that are already several years into development like Hollow Knight Silksong and Billie Bust up.

Just rough because I don't suppose a whole lot of games are going to be able to pivot game engines, let alone so late in development. Like it is easier said than done to pivot early in development but i've been following the development of several games that are years in at this point and the fact that they're grandfathering older titles into this is just... it's just bad.

The potential loss of games in terms of archival on such a massive scale....

[dr-robert-chase-apologist]

when you're watching House and the patient has your diagnosis:

[freakinator]

thinking about kab and the thing about her i think is she knows just enough to keep herself safe Generally but not enough to really predict what would happen should something more... complicated??? unforeseen??? idk whats the right word to use but something not covered by someones reputation and/or vids happen, believe it or not this also affects her view of clownpierce (we'll get to that)

for example, mapicc has a reputation for being an violent, angry, & impulsive guy and nothing else which makes sense but is incredibly surface level and something that only really works if you dont have a lot of experience working with him

another is reddoons, his betrayal after the base incident while shocking is not unforeseen but his reputation as being a guy whos seen as being a reasonable person whos fairly loyal to his team made it seem like something he wouldnt do even tho it absolutely is

regarding how it affects her view of clown, since he isnt perfectly aligned with his reputation she instead pivots in the complete opposite direction and forgiving basically every crime he does even tho hes something much more mild and complicated than either his reputation or her view of him will ever be (think madonna-whore complex which is especially obvious when it comes to kabs vs woogies view of him)

another side effect of this Just Enough amount of knowledge aside from being blinded by her own expectations is that it frustrates ppl who think shes oversimplificating things (like me and seemingly several other tumblr users as well) especially when she claims that shes objectively correct and the smartest in the room at any given moment

how this roughness in her analysis affects her in the server still has yet to be fully seen but we do still have at least a couple months until the end but 'til then shes just gonna keep stumbling as more and more complicated situations pop up as is typical in lifesteal to happen and eventually shes gonna have to learn to adapt or else she'll be suffering the consequences one way or another

[nostalgia-tblr]

and what's even worse about Loki S2 is they never so much as MENTIONED the alligator

[ezlo-x]

thoughts on twilight princess ganondorf?

I gotta confess you guys something……

I never played Twilight Princess. the Ganondorf that got me fixated on him was Smash Bros TP Ganondorf

I think he’s pretty tho <3

[sharkgirldick]

Transphobes will find the thinnest logic possible to call a trans woman a pedophile and act like they said something with any actual weight.

[1071png]

chomp

[toytle]

i had to rly think abt this one bc unfortunately i don’t think they’re having all that much bad sex. quite frankly.

[the-faketiccit0by]

Puppet is hanging out with Monty and Earth

Monty: hey princess? Anything I can get you? Or just water

Earth: you know I turn red when you call me that!

Monty:

Earth:

Earth: ... Water is fine...

Puppet hanging with Lunar

Jack appearing: Lulu!

Lunar, turning red: WHO TF TOLD YOU MY PET NAME?!

Jack: Moon

Lunar: of course he did... I'm going to skin him

Puppet observing Sun and Foxy

Sun: NO! YOU ARE NOT FORGIVEN!

Foxy: awww... C'mon Sunflower~

Sun:

Foxy:

Sun completely red: ... You're forgiven

Later

Puppet: ... So I need to come up with a pet name to fluster him

[anastacialy]

i do not know how to explain to people that "transmisogyny" is the specific transphobia that trans women + transfems face (often but not exclusively at the hands of cis people), and "transandrophobia" is the specific transphobia that trans men + mascs face (often but not exclusively at the hands of cis people), and that they all come together under the umbrella of "transphobia." these are not opposing concepts nor are they mutually exclusive, to believe in one does not mean non-belief in the other. is there a simpler way of phrasing this. can i be clearer.

[francy-sketches]

Girl help they beat my ass on asoiaf twitter

[willbyerssupremacist]

toxic milkvans who want will or max to die... el would literally hate you😭💀

[fakeasmr]

no stream today I'm heading to the big city