#and maybe write 👀

[cryingpages]

I'm just... gonna leave this here...

*silently slinks away*

Pls tag me if someone hears my call and writes something

[starry-bi-sky]

Stuck in the middle of a forest made of

Flesh and bones and they're all scared of

A lost little boy who has lost his heart

Fear's not enough, they have to

Tear him apart —-------

There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well: 

He’s adopted.

He can’t remember anything else before that.  

‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents. 

What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill. 

When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.

(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.) 

The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.

It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one. 

The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself. 

His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.

(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.) 

(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.) 

They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.  

(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)

Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe. 

He turned back around and went inside.

—-------

Where do we go

When the river's running slow

Where do we run

When the cats kill one by one

—------

One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.  

He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal. 

It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking. 

He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter. 

Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind. 

(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)

After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous. 

He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.

—------

Hazel beneath our claws

While we wait for cerulean to cry

Unsettled ticks run through time

Enough for the hunt to go awry

—-----

There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own. 

He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t. 

Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward. 

(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”) 

(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)  

He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell. 

A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his. 

He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it. 

His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.

Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.   

—-------

Harpy hare

Where have you buried all your children?

Tell me so I say

—-------

When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now. 

Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.

He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.

Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own. 

(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)

(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)

(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)  

—--------------

It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders

And they will never

Hear me here listen to croons and a calling

I'll tell them all the

Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow

Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare

—-------

More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother. 

Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten. 

His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands. 

They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely. 

It is a fast dream. 

His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.

His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods. 

The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him. 

The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal. 

His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train. 

(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.) 

—---  

She can't keep them all safe

They will die and be afraid

Mother, tell me so I say

(Mother, tell me so I say)

—-------

When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again. 

The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person. 

(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.) 

(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)   

Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird. 

(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)

—------

Seeker, do you ever come to wonder

If what you're looking for is within where you hold

Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path

You'll soon forget

Home

—---------

When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is. 

When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.

‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off. 

He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.

He ends up calling himself Phantom. 

(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.) 

----------

Home is where we are

Home is where you are

Home is where I am

-----------------

Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.

[crybaby-bkg]

drunk Bakugou that keeps blinking big wet eyes up at you while you help him get undressed and brush his teeth and wash his face. he’s slurring the whole time about how much he loves you and how pretty you are and how you’re the better part of him and how he’s gonna marry you and give you two and a half kids and a dog and a cat. muffles half of his confessions into your stomach where he keeps resting his heavy head, and doesn’t care about the tears and and toothpaste he’s getting on you in the process. no, he doesn’t remember everything when he wakes up, but he has an idea of what he’s said when you wake up with a grin, ready and armed to tease him.

[urghblergh]

"Every man needs a hobby." - by Leonard H. McCoy

inspired by this picture and this picture only

Here's the full comic.

It's the McSpirk brainrot, guys. I had to draw some silly old married gays. ✨🌈

[thedaythatwas]

I’m just thinking long and hard about the way Akiren and Akechi are written as foils for each other. Because of course, the game drives it home for us that the two are narrative foils: Akiren is the champion of free will who finds power through his friendships, Akechi represents the ways society binds us. He is chained by his desire to be wanted (importantly, by the wrong people– I’ll get to that).

At first glance, Akiren and Akechi’s point of divergence has to do with their relationships– Akiren has confidants, Akechi doesn’t, and this is the deciding factor in Akiren’s victory over Akechi on November 20th and in the engine room. Still, while this is certainly part of what makes their relationship important as a narrative device, it’s not the full picture. That, I think, has more to do with the fact that they both desperately want the very relationships that are used to foil them. They have common ground, and that’s what makes the emotional beats of their differences hit as hard as they do.

Even though Akechi doesn’t have the close bonds that Akiren does with his friends, he is defined as a character by his desire to belong. He wants to be praised and given everything he feels he was denied by Shido’s callous disregard for his mother and society’s unjust treatment of him after her death. He was a self-proclaimed “undesirable child” who spent his young adult life doing everything in his power to never feel unwanted again. He literally spells it out in his engine room monologue– “I was extremely particular about my life, my grades, my public image, so someone would want me around!”

Akiren, like Akechi, begins his character arc as a social outcast. Unlike Akechi, who appeals to systemic power to claim social clout and chase his own sense of belonging (the Shido revenge plot, which would, uhm, theoretically end with Shido acknowledging his son’s worth), Akiren finds family with other outcasts. All of the Phantom Thieves understand his struggle, and because of this they foster a sense of understanding and community that Akechi never gets to experience.

It is important to note that these bonds are deepened when Akiren helps those around him. While there’s absolutely nothing bad about doing things for the people you care about– in fact, most would argue that this is what makes a friendship a good one– we can take a reasonable guess that Akiren craves the love of those around him just a bit more than is healthy for him. He plays therapist for half of Tokyo– he stretches himself absurdly thin for the sake of his friends. That’s a bit much to ask of one person, but Akiren seems to demand it of himself. This is the nature of confidant routes as a game mechanic, of course, but hey, reading into game mechanics is important to getting a solid reading of who Akiren is behind the mask!

The crux of it is, Akiren and Akechi are both lonely characters. Their desire to be loved quite literally drives the narrative of the game, both in terms of plot and gameplay. What makes their foiling so tragic is the fact that Akechi so obviously wants what he has himself determined he can’t have. He says as much in the engine room when he questions why Akiren has things that he doesn’t, despite being (as he says) criminal trash living in an attic.

And yet, Akechi’s isolation is frankly the result of his own decisions. He is the one who chooses to work for Shido. He is the one who acts on a worldview that requires he keep his cards close to his chest to win— against Shido and against the world that wronged him— and to be considered desirable (even despite the fact that this mindset obviously works against satiating his hunger to be loved. He really needs to go to therapy, but I digress).

I don’t think Akechi even knows how to go about claiming what Akiren managed to. Akechi has agency in the actions he takes, absolutely– he would be furious about any suggestion to the contrary– but in many ways, the choices he feels himself able to make are constrained by his circumstances and the lessons imparted to him by his past.

All this to say, Akechi and Akiren aren’t different because Akechi doesn’t want teammates, or even friends. He sincerely wants everything Akiren has. He tells us this in the engine room. He shoots himself in the foot by prioritizing approval from society and love from Shido above other relationships. But thinking from inside his shoes, what else was he going to do? Where else would he have thought to turn to find what he wanted? He was dealt a horrible hand and he played his cards according to the rule book he was given. If the world were just, Akiren and Akechi wouldn’t be foils. It’s the injustice implicit in that that really drives home the point I think P5 is trying to make when it foils Akiren and Akechi in the first place. It also, personally, has been making me want to scream all day.

On a related note, this is also the exact reason that Akechi being the one to bring up that things might have been different if only he met Akiren a few years sooner makes me want to throw things, but this post is long enough. I’ll save all that for later!

[words-etched-in-her-skin]

HI, SO.. PERIOD HORNIES STRIKE AGAIN..

This little snippet was absolutely, definitely not inspired by anything irl 👀 Ahem, nope.

.▪︎°•..☆.•

"Uh uh.. not yet, draga."

You let out an arousingly needy whimper. The Lady's voice soft and warm - smooth like whiskey - with such a subtle tone to it that somebody else might have missed the absolute demand behind it. Though, the fact that it cracked ever so slightly when she got to your pet name, only proved that she was just as worked up as you were. But you also knew that Alcina's reserve could far out last yours if she wanted it to.

Another thrust into your aching core and you whimpered again, this time digging your nails into the sheets. The Countess had been edging you for what seemed like hours. A constant ebb and flow of pleasure that had your body absolutely trembling with need.

"P-please."

"Mh.. and deny yourself the honor of coming with your Mistress?"

Alcina smirked as she drove herself into you again, roughly.

"Ah-!" You cried, before letting out a soft sob half whimper. "I'll.. but I can c-come again for you, my lady."

The Countess chuckled at your plea before leaning down, her large frame casting you in a dark shadow.

"You could..." Her breath warm across your ear, a slight hiss to the next words that she gave you. ".. but I told you to wait."

You cursed under your breath and nodded. "Y-yes, Mistress."

"Mh.. that's better."

The large woman hummed in satisfaction before rising to her full height, a flash of crimson and two golden spheres staring down at you. A deliciously wet sound as the length of her cock slowly slid out of you, stretching you around the width of her before it stopped just short, reaching the tip.

"Now..." Her tone almost as dark as the curl across her lips as she readied your hips for impact, the head of her cock throbbing inside your entrance. "Shall we see just how many times I can get you to come for me... my needy little slut."

.▪︎°•..☆.•

OKAY, THAT IS ALL. THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY THIRST TALK ♡

[choccy-milky]

writing and sketching smut scenes that wont even be in my fic for a while instead of editing chapter 12 bc i escaped horny jail🙈🙈DONT LOOK AT ME I SWEAR ILL GO TO CHURCH SOON😇🙏

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

[Brodie flicked through the mail, instantly recognising the scrawling handwriting of a certain redheaded little boy. Scaring a few birds in the process, he bellowed up the stairs: ALEEEEX!] Alex: [breathless] Is it for me?! Brodie: Nah, but I could do with some help carrying this super heavy envelope upstairs. Alex: Who do you think you are, Johnny Zest? Brodie: I’m better than that guy, c’mon…

… Hi Alex! Sorry it’s taken me so long to reply to you, I promise I didn’t forget! I guess I just didn’t really know what to say cos I’ve sorta not felt like myself recently. My mom says I disappear into my own world sometimes so I sorta did that again and found it hard to think of anything fun to say. I don’t think I’d mind if you wrote to me about the less fun parts of your life though n’ my dad says you shouldn’t really keep everything to yourself all the time cos it ends up hurting so I thought I’d write anyway n’ just force myself not to worry about being boring or whatever. Your letters and your life always sound so exciting compared to mine though so sometimes it’s hard not to!!

I got in a fight at school which sounds like it should be an exciting story, but it wasn’t really. There’s this kid called Levi in my class that always picks on me (don’t worry though, I don’t care about that) and I couldn’t be bothered listening to him anymore so I hit him a couple times, I thought he’d hit me back but he just freaked out so I sorta felt bad about it afterward. He still makes fun of me but he doesn’t get up in my face as much so that’s a plus. Who says violence doesn’t solve anything? Hahaha I’m kidding! It wasn’t nice of me but maybe he should know better than to push people around so much.

I’m looking forward to summer so I can wander off a bit more and maybe it won’t rain so much! My mom doesn’t really like it when I go too far but as long as I’m back before curfew she tries not to freak out about it which is nice of her cos she knows I like to explore n’ stuff. I shouldn’t complain about my family cos I love them n’ stuff but I like being on my own sometimes and it’d be nice to have a bit of peace now n’ then. I’ve got SUPER good hearing so it’s hard to find anywhere quiet in my house, especially cos there’s always something crazy going on. My aunt Alma is sorta similar to me so she’s been helping me block out the noise with this meditation sorta thing, I guess it’s hard to explain but it’s not as lame as it sounds, it’s kinda fun to see how long you can stay in your own brain without people interrupting you. That probably sounds really weird but maybe you sorta get what I mean?

I finally have a treehouse now too!! It reminds me of your watchtower in some ways, but I guess it’s no way cooler than that, even though I know you’re bored of it by now. I wish we could hang out in it together cos it’s super awesome! Mom n’ dad don’t really bother me when I’m up there n’ my brother n’ sisters can’t manage the ladder yet so it’s all mine! It’s right at the bottom of the garden and looks out over the whole Bay too! Mom said she might let me sleep in it once it gets a bit warmer! It’d be cool falling asleep to the sound of the waves.. I hope it doesn’t end up making me need to pee all night though haha!!

Wren’s been obsessed with watching me play on the computer recently and I keep tryna teach her how to play herself but her little fingers can’t really reach all the buttons on the keyboard too well and she gets stupid mad when she dies so she just makes me play instead. She’d kick me if I told anyone but she’s a bit scared of some of the monsters too lol!! Mom told me I shouldn’t let her watch those ones but they’re the only ones she WANTS to watch and she jumps all over me until I give in so idk what they expect me to do other than lock her in the pantry, but I got told off for that so I guess I shouldn’t do that again haha (Wren thought it was funny though so it’s all good!) It’s a shame you don’t have a computer in the tower otherwise we could play together! Jude n’ Jacob aren’t really into that sorta thing so I usually just play on my own. Do you have a computer back home??

Oh! I got another badge for my swimming lessons too! I’ve almost got em all now which is neat but I sorta wanna avoid getting the last ones cos anyone that gets them all or has good attendance n’ whatever get an award at the end of the school year. They save em all up to give out at some stupid last year disco thing they put on before summer for the last year kids n’ it’d be so cringe to get called out in front of everyone like that. Some people think it’s gonna be amazing like my friend Jude, but I’d rather not go at all. Mom n’ dad keep saying it’ll be fun n’ everyone else is excited about it too but how fun could something be if you’re technically at SCHOOL? Bleh! I know you said you hate it sometimes, but being homeschooled sounds awesome to me lol.

I keep tryna bug my parents to go camping again so we could maybe see each other but they won’t take me out of school for a holiday n’ dad’s too busy with some work project so I guess we’ll have to keep writing to each other instead! Maybe if I keep annoying them about it we can come back in the summer! I hope so anyway but I guess I don’t wanna piss em off TOO much just in case my plan backfires or something.

I still feel really bad about not writing sooner but my dad said better late than never so hopefully you’re not too upset with me! I’ll try my best to write faster next time so you don’t have to wait as long. I’m looking forward to hearing about everything you’ve been up to!! Love Robin c: ps. my dad’s friend finally helped me fix that old polaroid so I’ve sent you some random pictures I took to test it out! I’m still getting used to it but the next ones will be better, I swear!

… the treehouse! it even has cool lights on it!! the back of our house! it’s so big it’s hard to fit in a picture.. it sorta looks fancy but it’s not really n’ dad said it was cheap cos it was a shithole a rare Byrd! (grumpy too – dad tried to take his dummy off him lol) he’s not supposed to be on my bed… the Bay! Jude says I sound girly for saying it’s so pretty here but I don’t care I could take a million pictures of this place n’ never get bored (I’ll stop now though cos mom says these polaroid things aren’t cheap for this model.. oops lol!!)

[chronicbeans]

I keep Seeing these hilarious posts online about what life would be like in Gotham City, but I haven't seen anyone mention this hilarious scenario.

Imagine having Jonathan Crane as your psychology professor, getting your psychology degree and a job at Arkham Asylum, then having Jonathan Crane as one of your first patients there. That'd be some hardcore whiplash and I love that idea lol.

[willowser]

i feel like. shouto doesn't understand why you can't still do things together once you've broken up. like he's texting you, calling you, inviting you to eat lunch with him and you're not answering ?? and then he's talking to deku about it, probably wondering if he should be concerned because you always send him like three texts in a row, and midoriya is like shouto...shouto....you're not together anymore...but he's just like 🤔 so ? 🤔 we're still friends, right ? 🤔 friends do stuff together 🥺

[mothman-can-write]

Oh god. Oh god help I'm thinking about maria surviving the shot in SI. I'm thinking about Maria surviving and ending up with a stomach scar just like a certain agent that she may or may not have fallen in love with. I'm thinking about her trying to get through life when she only ever sees Natasha reflected in her own body, when she never got to bury Natasha's. I'm thinking about matching scars lifetimes apart that they'll never be able to compare, pain and discomfort that she'll never be able to get tips on how to deal with even though she was there for Natasha's. She could ask someone else, but it wouldn't be the same. It's never been the same.

[thinkingjasico]

MAKE👏JASON👏GRACE👏AND👏NICO👏DI👏ANGELO👏KISS

[arithmonym]

i’m very excited that these tags were canonized yesterday :3

[erineas]

Another random art dump of old fanfic fanart! ✨

Well, actually these are a mix between 6s1m and Bitty Hunt (there was a time when I really needed more chapters of those two fics ok? I didn't care enough about skeleton's toxicity back then pfff)

There says "little lady maid" but in the end I just called her Bitty Maid

[justablah56]

hmm do you guys ever think about Lark and his selfish desire to be hurt regardless of others reactions to his pain and then Grant repressing all his cravings to *cause* pain because of others reactions to his enjoyment of it as well as his own .

do you guys ever think about Lark knowing Grant's capability to hurt him and doing anything he can to make him do it . he doesn't care about grant but he *needs* to be broken and Grant is the only one physically capable of breaking him how he wants .

do you guys think about Lark chipping away at the mental walls Grant has placed around his physical capability for causing harm . Lark finding out exactly what buttons to push to make Grant lose control for just long enough to leave a bruise . He doesn't care about how much Grant hates himself for doing it , but he sees Grants face in the moment he punches Lark . and he can see the wild grin . the moment of satisfaction when something inside Lark cracks . and then with a blood stained smile he watches Grant's face crumple into self hatred as he tries to apologize , he didn't mean it - but Lark did . he meant it . and he doesn't know how to tell Grant that seeing his blood on grants knuckles makes him feel good in a way that nothing has since the realms . he doesn't know how to say *do that again* . and so maybe he pulls himself to his feet , grunting through the pain that feels so *right* , kisses Grant with everything he has , leaving Grant to support his weight with trembling arms .

anyways .

do you guys ever think about glark .

[retrogarden]

Link’s emotions in Tears of The Kingdom *Spoilers for the Dragon’s Tears quest if you have not gotten them all*

A YouTuber I was watching pointed out that Link’s face at the end of the very last dragon’s tear when he finds the truth about the light dragon and Zelda that Nintendo should’ve let him have shown more emotions or perhaps cried at the last tear instead of the same 😮 face.

I have to say that I agree!! Let the man show some emotions especially for his closest female friend or lover if you’re a Zelink shipper like me.

So, I’ll provide you with my angsty headcannon that he was going to cry but was ambushed by a sneaky Lizaflos so he had to fight it (which had happened to me) and then he went back to their house in Hateno Village (which is what I had done since I wanted to dye my outfit) and when he went to bed he cried himself to sleep looking at her pictures and sleeping in her bed thinking about the last memory.

And then he goes to sit in her little secret room reading her diary, wearing the new champion’s leathers she made for him while looking at the master sword that was previously in her head. Wondering and feeling terrible if it had hurt her when he was pulling it out since she thrashes around a bit.

He then goes to Hateno school she’d built to just sit and watch Symin teach the kids and thinks about Zelda and the one kid that always waits for her, knowing she’s never coming back. He then goes back to the Hateno house to sit by the fire and makes her favorite meal and sits for awhile. At the corner of his eye he sees something and looks to the sky to see her flying above the village and then he begins to cry.

He is absolutely fueling and completely ready to avenge Ganondorf and bring him to his demise. For now he goes and sits with her and watches the sunset as she flies over Hyrule, something they’d done before watching the beautiful sunsets together in Hateno. He lays on her, petting her mane as he cries and quietly mutters an “I’m so sorry.”