#but not here it just doesn’t fit here

[izzehands]

[turtleblogatlast]

I am once again reiterating that Leo could and should be a figure skater because what are ice skates if not twin blades? What is dual blade swordsmanship if not a dance-like performance? Using the skates as blades themselves could let Leo make portals be his ice rink no? I rest my case. ⛸️

[whaliiwatching]

noir ideas…

[chipjrwibignaturals]

lost in the waves - kooman & dimond | the hole in the sea - jrwi

[sandwichsapphic]

“an exceedingly pleasant and amiable young gentleman but… mentally he is negligible - quite negligible” is the Jeeves and Wooster equivalent of “she is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me”

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

This isn’t really a fully formed thought or anything. But it’s interesting how Sansa, Jon, and Lyanna specifically factor into one of GRRM’s greater explorations on the merits of fantasy. More specifically, there is a common trope that connects these three characters: a princess locked in a tower transforming into a valiant knight/hero. Lyanna and Jon, for starters, are pretty obvious explorations of this. Lyanna is the reconstructed version of this classic trope especially as presented through Arthurian tradition; but the twist here is that the dragon/knight who “locks” her in the tower isn’t actually evil and she isn’t so much kidnapped but rather willingly chooses to go there with him. This princess in a tower directly results in the birth of the hidden prince trope, which is even older than Arthur. So one fantasy classic, Rhaegar and Lyanna, leads to another with Jon being Arthur (a hidden prince and destined king), Percival (a hero who grows up in obscurity but has a great destiny to save the land), and Galahad (a noble hero destined to be even greater than his father, Rhaegar/Lancelot, ever was) all at once.

This princess dies in the tower…but her spirit/ghost lives on through her son, who grows up to look and act just like her, eventually becoming the valiant hero you read in the stories (but again, a de/reconstructed version). Part of how Jon does this is by repeating Lyanna’s actions as the valiant “knight” protecting an innocent from bullies. So by making it out of that tower even though his mother didn’t, Jon becomes the survival and rebirth of the fantasy ideal. You could even make the argument that just because Lyanna died doesn’t mean fantasy died as well because it lives on through Jon, her son. And this is actually is aided by Lyanna’s pleading for her son’s life, so she has some agency in how fantasy is preserved in the same way she had agency in how it’s perpetuated when she protected Howland Reed and when she ran off with Rhaegar. The princess living on and becoming the hero/knight in the stories is thus taken on by two characters here: Lyanna and Jon, mother and son. Jon goes even further into the Arthurian-knight playbook by encountering and eventually killing another vicious bully, Janos Slynt, who was coincidentally had a hand in his father’s demise. Then enter princess in the tower 2.0, Sansa Stark.

Sansa is an interesting case because she’s not martial in the way Lyanna and Jon are. But she too encounters her fair share of knights and villains. Janos Slynt is one of them, and Littlefinger will be another. I’ve talked about this before but Jon becoming the valiant hero Sansa wished for is important because it directly plays into GRRM’s reconstruction and (imo) defense of the ideals of fantasy. It’s not so much that heroes don’t exist - they actually do. They just might be far away, or might be the ones you’d never expect. This is the opposite of the “fantasy is dead, stop believing because everything sucks” reading you might see in some sections of the fandom. This moment may not end up meaning much for Jon and Sansa and their relationship, but it means a lot to us readers who are audiences of GRRM’s conversations with the genre and his arguments for its appeal. But that’s not the only interesting thing because Sansa, unlike Lyanna, does eventually make it out of the tower. But she’s currently in the hands of Littlefinger who, like Janos Slynt, was a villain responsible for her father’s demise. In this scenario, will she have to wait for a valiant hero to come take care of him again? Or will she instead don the knight’s armor (figuratively) by enacting justice in her own right? Based on the GoHH’s prophecy, it looks like it will be the latter; and it’s important to note how often “armor” as a motif is repeated in Sansa’s chapters. Thus, the princess evolving into the hero is told through the arc of a singular character here. Sansa is the princess who makes it out of the tower to become a hero of her own making; important disclaimer though, Littlefinger doesn’t really play into the elements of knighthood but he does count as an evil lord holding a princess hostage so Sansa can still be a subversion of the knight rescuing the maiden - the lesson being that she is her own knight, her own salvation!

It’s a very powerful meta-textual thread that exists between these three characters. They all fit into a wider narrative about fantasy and how it can live on, whether played straight or twisted a little crooked. So Sansa doesn’t have to be an overt in-universe parallel to Lyanna because that’s just not her role in the story. And I personally don’t think any “similarities” they have are actually important to Sansa as a person or to Jon because let’s face it, Lyanna’s primary (and most important) role is to be Jon’s mother and everything else informs on that. But both these women (and Jon) can be meta twinsies based on how they fit into GRRM’s wider narrative goals.

[aalghul]

I don’t think it makes sense to assume that Jason was mocking Mia’s past. At all. The thing that got jason painted as violent back in the 80s was his anger against rapists…how does that turn into mocking a victim? and that entire story was written by winick. Do we honestly think winick intended to communicate that? The same writer who made Jason’s first kill a man who was trafficking children? Who had Jason pause in his mission of madness to make sure those kids were found by the right people so they wouldn’t be in further danger?

[theserlingbucket]

@hollowtones in Pokémon… there ain’t no way

[phatcatphergus]

Tubbo is going to be so ecstatic and happy for Fit and Pac but there’s going to be a little voice in the back of his head that reminds him of how he truly has no one but Sunny to care about him

[ozcarma]

Does anyone else feel like the incinerator gun chair room from Zero Time Dilemma would have better fit C Team instead of D Team

[waywardstation]

WIP FRIDAY

I apologize for getting this out two days late, I’ve been busy with lots of packing and events! But I have a little reprieve, so I wanted to post another WIP; this one is from Heart Full, Bowl Empty.

BE AWARE THAT THIS SEGMENT INVOLVES A CONVERSATION REVOLVING AROUND UNWILLING BUT INTENTIONAL STARVATION. I know there are people who say they can’t read this fic because of themes like this, so be aware of this before reading this WIP!!

I included this snippet in today’s WIP because I have like three versions of the entire segment this snippet is from. I feel like it’s a really important segment with a really important conversation, and I’ve had a hard time balancing all the emotions the way I want to between Ingo and Akari, with frustration, sadness, anger, and empathy, to realistically get them to the resolution I want at the end of it.

The final version will probably only include a few parts from this particular segment.

Enjoy!!

—————

“I knew it! You’re doing it again!” Akari’s eyebrows scrunched, trying to understand through the frustration. “You said you wouldn’t!”

“Circumstances will improve soon.” Clearly done with the conversation, that was all Ingo said, but it was confession enough that he had fallen back on his word. Shame contaminated his voice, but if there was any regret, he hid it well.

“No, it won’t!” They were not even half-way through winter yet. “And you know it won’t!”

Ingo said nothing as the kits carefully moved around his slumped form, finding comfortable places to settle around him. She didn’t know if he intended to snuff the conversation out with angered silence, or if he was just too exhausted to care about arguing with her anymore. If it wasn’t for his small occasional signs of movement or acknowledgement, she’d think he was actually sleeping.

Akari carefully stepped into the nesting layers, moving to sit down next to Ingo. She settled with her back against the cavern wall, pulling her knees close as a few kits shuffled around to accommodate her. “You know I’m right.”

Huffing out an irritated sigh and nothing more, it didn’t seem like Ingo had any intentions to engage with her argument anymore.

“You couldn’t even pull yourself up over the ridge,” She prodded at him again, trying to motivate more conversation out of him. “I had to help you!”

“There are many, many factors that go into that.” A reluctant answer, perhaps a reflexive attempt to quell her worry; Ingo feebly rubbed his wrapped hand, almost as a display for his excuse.

“I’ve seen you do more when you’ve been hurt worse.” Akari retorted, a little softer now but still cold.

Ingo’s eyes remained closed, though his hardened expression implied that it came across as more accusatory than she’d intended. But perhaps it was precisely the time to be accusatory.

“Ingo, you’re so tired all the time now – you stopped coming to the training grounds because you just can’t make the trips all the time anymore! And you’re sleeping so much more than you used to, and it’s like you’re always hungry all the time, even though all I see you doing anymore is gathering food!” Akari’s voice grew more jagged as she continued to jab at him, entirely uninterrupted.

It was getting difficult. With Ingo’s tunic still sopping by the bucket, still somewhat red from the exhausted effort of washing out the blood, it could not hide the ribs that pressed out just a little bit more, or help fill out what the waistline had lost under the loosening belt. The abject dread of directly acknowledging that was too much.

“And- and look! You aren’t even willing to hold a conversation with me anymore, and I don’t know if it’s because you just won’t, or because you can’t!” The kits shifted uncomfortably as Akari retreated back into her own frustration instead. “People think you’re sick, Ingo! They’re asking me about you! What are you doing?”

The exhausted man remained where he laid in the nesting material, only moving his hands to rub at his face and sigh — a deep, forced sigh that swelled his side before releasing. Akari almost didn’t think he’d answer her, but with some effort, he propped himself up first onto his elbows, then slumped forward. The teen watched him run shaky fingers through his hair as he sat next to her.

“…I don’t know what I should do.” The guilt. The weary guilt cracked his voice and tore Akari’s anger down to heartache.

[cowboylikesel]

i’m sorry but the narrative this fandom has created around buck and eddie in the last few years that there’s no way they could ever truly be happy if they don’t end up in a romantic relationship with each other and that they’re otherwise doomed to a life of misery is so…sad to me?

like obviously everybody is entitled to their own interpretation of the show but it’s just such a limited view of what love and family can look like. buck and eddie (& chris) will always be family and they’ll always be in each other’s lives, no matter who they are with. maybe they will end up together but if they don’t that doesn’t mean that what they have with each other is somehow less meaningful. seeing their current relationship simply as a stepping stone for a possible romance feels to me like a betrayal to both of them and what they’ve build with each other.

i get that everybody enjoys things in their own way but condemning my favourite characters to an eternity of misery instead of opening myself up to different possibilities is just not something i’m willing to do again and i honestly think this way of thinking is a big reason why a large part of the fandom just seems miserable engaging with the canon material of the show post s4 but especially s7 — at least when it comes to buck and eddie and every storyline related to them that can’t be interpreted as some kind of build up to buddie.

[wolfnesta]

I’ve always entertained the idea of Nesta going full on evil because she already has a compelling backstory that makes a villain relatable, understandable, these things could push her to extremes to fight for change but not without questionable choices, I mean, she has the cold, unflinching, cunning attitude down, bonus sexy points. She fights for humans, fights for women. But why not make her evil in the process.

And then there’s Feyre with her own backstory but she has that innate compassion, both are fighting for change, have a common enemy, but Feyre has lost faith in Nesta, wants to see her nurturing future come to fruition without burning everything to the ground.

Hmmm I’m just compelled

[thwackk]

spectre hal :)

and some unnecessary gore, for no reason other than i felt like drawing gore and the spectre

[the-way-astray]

i cannot be the only one that thinks the fox is under the hood.

[dubious-writing]

🖤 For whoever you're feeling.

🖤 kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation

This was too much power to give me anon. Sorry it took so long. Also I really hope you’re an hrpf fan because that’s what I wrote. If you wanted a pairing from a different fandom, message me again!

But until then: have 1,071 words of Dewvorce

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

They were supposed to have more time. As much as they could get their hands on, which they assumed would be plenty, would be enough.

Turns out it was nothing at all.

It was probably stupid of him, but he’d held out hope until the very end. Ignoring all the rumors and the questions from reporters and the looks from their teammates they think he didn’t notice full of a pity that was too early to acknowledge. Ignoring the extra large carry-on containing too many clothes for just a quick back-to-back trip. Ignoring the steely resolve in Brandon’s face hiding away the pain just behind it, the set of his eyebrows betrayed by the clench of his jaw. Call it stupidity, call it ignorance, call it naivety.

Call it whatever you like; if nothing else, the hope had been there until the very end, through everything. If nothing else, that bravery is something to be proud of.

Their time together had seemed endless, a long sprawling trail, untouched, built only for their feet to walk on, a red carpet rolled out into the future just for them. Now, their time together can be counted in only minutes, the seconds ticking by one by one in the ticking of the wall clock in this barren hotel lobby.

Connor knows the rest of the guys have already said their goodbyes, their well wishes, clapped Brandon on the back preemptively and promised to keep in touch. They’ve been doing it all week where they think he hasn’t been able to see, where they think he wasn’t watching. They should’ve known it was all in vain; where Brandon goes, his eyes follow.

So they’re alone, here, in this nondescript lobby, not another soul in sight. Even the receptionists at the front desk could sense what a private moment this was and made themselves busy in some back room. The only sounds are the ticking of the clock, the shift of Brandon's palm on the handle of his bag, the slight sniffle in Connor’s nose as he tries desperately to keep his emotions in check. It feels like his heart is being cleaved out of his chest, bits of broken bone and pieces of flesh spilling onto the tiled floor beneath them.

Finally, after an eternity and instant, after not nearly enough time at all, Brandon shifts his weight between the balls of his feet. He takes one tiny step back, raises his hand to rub at the back of his neck, tightens the grip on his suitcase. The Wild green sands of their hourglass have run out.

“Dewey, I gotta…”

And Connor knows. He knows. This isn’t something he can stop, this isn’t a game he can throw his body into trying to get the win for the boys. This was a loss he looked straight in the eyes and never saw coming. There have been a lot of those this season.

The worst part, he thinks, is that he really did think they had all the time in the world. And if you have all that time, what’s the rush in voicing things already known and understood, when you know you’ll have another chance at it later?

There are no more chances.

“Brandon, you– I…”

“It’s okay,” and Connor didn’t think his heart could break anymore, but looking at Brandon’s smile, the edges trembling and cracking, he thinks it may have been kinder to just stomp the fleshy pulp of it into the floor. “I know.”

He has always known, hasn’t he, all these years? 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

And that’s right, he will. Brandon was traded to the Avs, and the team was gonna be in Colorado tomorrow night anyways. Funny, how these things tend to happen.

Connor can’t bring himself to say anything, let alone a goodbye that would only feel inadequate, so he can only nod once, jerky, because he’s holding onto himself too tightly for it to look natural. Brandon’s jaw clenches again, the muscles in his cheek bulging with it, and nods back. He turns around, pulling his luggage behind him, the clack of the wheels hitting the seams between tiles echoing between them.

But… no. No, that can’t be it. An entire future, barely even started, still a fledgling little thing, weak and without its eyes open, smothered in its crib. Snuffed out in a matter of seconds with no effort at all.

And Connor knows he’s being a little dramatic here, that he will see Brandon again, that they will keep in touch, that neither of them are actually fucking dying (even if it feels like it, a little - a lot). But he can’t let that be it. It’s not fucking fair, and he can’t let that be it.

“Wait– Brandon!”

Brandon turns around too quickly to hide the wetness in his eyes, but it doesn’t matter because Connor’s are no better, and then it really doesn’t matter at all because both their eyes are closed.

As far as first kisses go, it’s fucking shit. Connor’s aim was off center, Brandon stumbling half a step back with the weight of a body crashing into his. Their noses knock and their teeth smash together beneath their lips. It tastes like blood and ash and despair, heartbreak and the death of the life they could’ve had if only they were able to get their shit together. But it’s also a kiss with Brandon - the only one he may ever have - so it has to be good enough.

Kissing your best friend, the guy you think you’ve been in love with for years, as emotionally stunted as you both are, right before he has to board a plane that will take him hundreds of miles away from you for what feels like forever, is not a good idea. As awful and terrible as the world is right now, it would probably have been more bearable if he’d never known what it was like to actually kiss Brandon, if he’d been left to wonder for the rest of his life.

But as Brandon’s bag clatters to the floor, as a hand worms itself underneath the hem of Connor’s jacket, as the other cups his jaw to tilt his head into a better angle, as the kiss softens into something less like anger and more like tenderness, he can’t bring himself to regret it.