#going feral over the thought of this

[newvestroia]

What will happen in the future? Do you think it will be better than today?

[xx-just-a-demon-xx]

we just know that stone would be losing his shit at the chance to cut robotnik's hair for him and give him a supervillain makeover

[whatsitzface]

The way Annabeth was thinking so far ahead of Percy that Percy was confused. The way she refused to elaborate on anything, and then was like; 'I'm surrounded by idiots' whenever someone (Percy) didn't understand her. The way she looked so smug after she pushed Percy into the water and he got claimed. THE WAY SHE WAS SO BLUNT!!!!! ("ARE YOU STALKING ME??" "yeah lol")

Sorry, but that's the most accurate Annabeth in the world holy smokes Leah did such a good job. All my forgotten love for Annabeth's character that I felt while reading the books just crashed into me full force and I'm frothing at the mouth with obsession.

“-You’re gonna expect me to know how to do something I don’t know how to do, and I end up falling flat on my face, I- I can’t really have that right now.” “You still don’t get where you fit into all of this, do you?” SHE’S TALKING ABOUT THE PROPHECY AND HOW SHE KNOWS HE'S A POSIEDON KID, BUT SHE HIDES IT AS HOW HE DOESN’T KNOW HIS PLACE IN THE CAPTURE THE FLAG GAME!!!! BECAUSE SHE WON’T TELL HIM!!!! AND ITS EPIC BECAUSE IN THE CAPTURE THE FLAG GAME HE DOES FALL FLAT ON HIS FACE, BUT IN THE PROPHECY HE DOES GET HIS DAD TO SEE HIM!!!! And then she fixes his armor plate, making sure that its secure. Making sure he won't get hurt. That's not part of her plan, and things always go according to her plan. She's the game master. IM SCREAMING

[bruisedboys]

he really is just so boyfriend. like the kind who would reach the boxes in shelves you can’t reach

he is just always into being your hero . doing things to make you swoon

peter quill has a hero complex for sure but it gets hiked up about 200% when it comes to you. he’s obsessed with doing everything for you because he knows you like it, even if you don’t actually need the help. he knows you’re totally capable of taking care of yourself but he wants to do it because he’s so incredibly down bad for you it’s sick.

yes he’s definitely the type to reach high shelves for you!!! so casually dominant of him tbh. he comes up behind you where you’re tiptoeing in front of the shelf and easily snags the box you’re reaching for. when he hands it to you he’s veryy smug about it. especially if he gets a thank you kiss, which he usually does.

he’s also always tying your shoelaces or zipping your dress or fixing your clothes for you. your shoelace comes undone while you’re out with him and he doesn’t even hesitate to get on the dirty floor to do it up for you. you put your hands in his hair and tug gently as a silent thank you and he swears he dies on the spot. and if your clothes ever ride up and threaten to show more skin than he knows you’ll want to, he’ll fix them without a word and it flusters you so much.

ugh and if you’re clumsy!!! he gets so good at catching you before you hurt yourself. if you’re about to trip he’ll catch you before you do and dip you cos he’s a dork, his arm locked around your lower back. you’ll laugh and swoon and say my hero all sarcastic and it boosts peter’s ego wayyy more than he’d like to admit.

[crystallizsch]

(this has been on my mind for a while)

[starlight-shark]

i think it's interesting how the dragons in totk are portrayed. it's said that, you know, “to become an immortal dragon is to lose oneself.” they lose all their characteristics that make them human. their body, their voice, their emotions. but clearly some part of them must stay. whether its their biggest emotions or their strongest relationships. this manifests itself in both zelda, the light dragon, and ganons malice dragon. zelda’s love for link was the whole reason she turned into the light dragon, to get him back his sword from centuries in the past so that he stood a chance against the demon king. she voluntarily gave up her entire personhood knowing that she would never get it back because of her love for link. and then ganon. whether it was his hatred for link, or his ambition to conquer hyrule with link the only thing standing in his way, it’s very clear that some part of him remained in the dragon, or else it would have just wandered the skies as soon as he had transformed. instead, it literally grabbed link and took him to fight in the skies, with the light dragon swooping in to help protect link. I just think its interesting, because they clearly havent lost all of themselves. this may partly be because of their relationships with each other via the triforce, but im not entirely sure.

[majorproblems77]

So I was thinking.

What would Sky's reaction be to the knowledge that Twilight has an entire dungeon called the City in the Sky.

(I'll tell you what mine was. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SKYLOFT?)

Like think about it.

Twilight gets a book and has to use a code written in an ancient language to use a device from the Sky to open the way.

Like

What if that ancient language was Skyloftian?

What if Twilight mentions the dominion rod and the book of hand and Sky goes nuts because of the implications.

And and and

What if the ancient book is in Sky's writing?

[fence-time]

Yeah ok, teamZITS r cool and all.. but what if they were time travelerss :3

Time periods they’re from : Tango- 2100’s, Impulse- 1960’s ,skizz-Victorian era ,zed- Ancient Greece

[relicsongmel]

The dubious nature of Iris' name (and what it means)

Sister Iris Fey Hawthorne of Hazakura Temple finds herself in a rather peculiar situation for the Ace Attorney franchise in the fact that she is one of very few characters without a canonical last name. Of course, this hasn't stopped fans from assigning her one—for the purposes of tagging and categorization (or simply to distinguish her from Iris Wilson from The Great Ace Attorney series, because "Iris Ace Attorney" is no longer specific enough), every Ace Attorney fan seems to have a different answer as to what they call her, whether it be Iris Hawthorne, Iris Fey, Iris of Hazakura Temple, or simply Sister Iris. This confusion is understandable given the lack of a clear answer in canon as to what her legal last name is as well as her unusual upbringing; what with being raised in Kurain Village as a Fey, taken away by her father as a Hawthorne, and then sent to Hazakura Temple to become a nun. However, before we delve further into Iris herself, there's something a bit unusual (that I don't often see acknowledged within the fandom) that I'd like to bring up—that being, that this name drama not only affects Iris, but her twin sister Dahlia as well.

Simply put, Dahlia Hawthorne being named Dahlia Hawthorne doesn't make much sense when you think about it. Dahlia was born to Morgan Fey, the then-leader of the matriarchal line of spirit mediums of the Kurain Channeling Tradition. As such, it's safe to assume that she and her twin sister were also given this name upon their birth—so why, then, does she have her father's (or possibly her stepmother's—it's unclear) last name when we meet her in-game? Children generally do not have their last names changed when their parent remarries, so what's the deal? This strange situation makes slightly more sense when you remember that much of Trials and Tribulations builds up to the reveal that Dahlia and Iris are Morgan Fey's daughters; as such, Dahlia appearing in Chapter 1 and introducing herself as "Dahlia Fey" would be a MASSIVE spoiler for the events to come.

As for an in-universe explanation, we obviously aren't given one, but we are given a bit of insight from Dahlia (while disguised as Iris) regarding their father's perspective on leaving Kurain Village:

"He hated the place. He said it was a hick dive, and that he had no reason to stay there."

I think it's not an unreasonable stretch to say that their father wanted nothing more to do with the Fey clan after its reputation had been destroyed post-DL-6, and likely went to great efforts to separate himself (and his daughters) from anything that reminded him of it. With this in mind, who's to say he didn't have the twins' name changed? Now, obviously whether this affected Iris herself is still up for debate—it's possible she had already been sent away to Hazakura before this had all happened. But given that Dahlia implies Iris had only been sent away after their father's second marriage, I find it more likely that her name was changed beforehand. That said, it's still just a headcanon based on my personal preferences—I like the idea of Iris having the last name "Hawthorne" because I think the association with the Hawthorne effect (in which one modifies their behavior in response to being watched) fits her really well, but I don't disagree with those who choose to use other names for her because there are good arguments to be made there as well.

However. However. The intrigue behind Iris' name doesn't even end there. We hear from Sister Bikini very early in Bridge to the Turnabout that it's Hazakura Temple tradition for nuns to choose a "temple" name—meaning that even Iris' given name might not be her real one. I hesitate a bit on this idea considering her name already pairs up nicely with Dahlia’s due to the shared flower theming (and Iris having a lack of respect for acolyte tradition in that regard would give her an interesting resemblance to her mother which I REALLY like), but if it is true it creates another fascinating bit of symbolism—Iris’ first name is a lie. A facade. Which fits in with her lying about her identity to Phoenix for 8 months and her general tendency to put up a front of whoever the person she's talking to wants her to be—whether that be Dahlia's obedient co-conspirator, Bikini's sweet and good-natured daughter figure, or Godot's accomplice and the scapegoat he can use to protect Maya. And neither of the common last names given to her by fandom accurately reflect/show the full picture of who she is either. Fey is what she was born as—but that name comes with a whole host of burdens and generational trauma that she likely does her best to distance herself from considering her tendency to run away from conflict like she did with the fake kidnapping and the aftermath of Doug Swallow's murder (she’s a lot like her aunt in that regard). Hawthorne ties her to the sister she so dearly loves—but also weighs her down due to her sister’s crimes, her role in said crimes, and the family she was sent away from against her will (even if it ended up being better for her) before it tragically fell apart. Neither one truly fits—the Iris name debacle is a perfect representation of the identity crisis of her character and that is nothing short of beautiful to me.

[ihavesomejays]

scum vidyadhara's self-saving system legitimately these two are the most rendered characters i've ever drawn and idk how to feel about that. anyways i'll be dropping some doodle comics about this au sometime soon and if you do draw or write svsss renheng tag me i need to see it im so ill about the thought of shizun!dan heng

closeups under keep reading

[starrspice]

Reread Fishy Business by @robinette-green

I love the way they write and this fic is so so cute

I reread it whenever im really burnt out or tired and it just lifts my spirits

[madschiavelique]

Yandere migue you say 👀👀👀👀do elaborate bc that’s a conversation that needs to be had!!! In the meantime pls accept my thoughts on this man absolutely tearing it up 😩👌🏻

(He would be 100% devoted to you but this man would NOT go easy on you😭, esp if you talk back and display any bratty behavior which gets all the gesrs in his head running bc he lives for that challenge, quite literally has you exhausted and almost passing out by the time he’s brought you to yet another peak. You forgot how many it had been. He started out with his fingers, unforgiving and determined to find all of your weak spots and manipulate them to bring you pleasure. Then he brought his mouth and tongue on you to get you all eased up, pliant and ready to take him (despite being mean and unforgiving he would never intentionally hurt you and he knows how uhhh 😬 challenging it can get taking him without prep so you can bet on it that he spends a generous time down there preparing you). You’re all sweaty, flushed, your entire body aching and buzzing deliciously from the pleasure as he blows another load in you. You’re so oversensitive your vision starts to blur, and the last things you can make out is him laying you down on the sheets, hovering above you as soft words of praise are spoken into the silence of the night. He strokes you all over, paying attention that his rough fingers are extra gentle on the bruises and bites he has left all over your body in the heat of the moment. If you had any energy left in you, you’d squirm away bc you’re so sensitive but all you can do is sigh and sink deeper into the sheets, the combination of his touch and sweet words lulling you into a deep sleep. He wouldn’t stop though, admiring the image of your sleeping form underneath him almost reverently, taking in every small detail about you now that he has you laying underneath him without trying to squirm away from his grip, acting all bratty as you so often liked to. He can’t believe he got so lucky to have you, you’re all his and he vows he’ll always take care of you. Sometimes he speaks out his mind, finding it much easier to be open about his feelings and emotions when you’re asleep. Often it’s just him gently cleaning you up and thinking about how beautiful you look all flushed and sweaty, his spend mixed with your juices leaking out of your puffy and red center. He’s growing hard in no time again, and can’t wait till you’re awake so he can continue where you two left off)

uhhhh yeah so that happened?? In short I need this man to dick me down and put me in my place but also love me so tenderly when I’m not looking 😩🤌🏻

JUST READ THIS WITH MY LITTLE CUP OF TEA IN HAND AND I WAS JUST GASPING ALL THE WAY

so first of all : my sincere reaction

and second of all :

this man handles attitudes intensely, very firmly, and very imply put : if you search him you'll find him, but he will be the one coming for you. he would overstimulate you to the point where you're crying and mutter how you can't give him another orgasm

"weren't you the one asking for it ? hum ? I warned you that I was going to give it to you if you kept acting like that."

the man studied you fully, knowing exactly where to touch, where to lick, and he would make you unable to think properly with just his fingers. he doesn't care if he can't fuck you properly right now, because he wants to make a statement that he's got you wrapped around his fingers (quite literally) and that in any case "do you really think you have a choice ?"

it's only once you're a whimpering mess that can't think straight that he finally fucks you, and you feel like you're split in half by how big he is. no matter how many times he fucks you, you never get used to his width and length, and how good this single feeling is. he hits all the right places within you, sometimes pressing his finger in your navel to make his fingers and his dick connect, and you make such pretty moans when he does that that he does it from time to time. he will undoubtedly grab your face in his hand to properly see your eyes as he fucks you until you're brain dead, his red eyes looking at you in an almost predator way

he will bite you, mark your entire body with his lips and mouth so that you never forget how you're his, and so that everybody knows you belong to him. and after 3 more orgasms with him inside you, you'd collapse completely, your eyes closing on themselves as the overstimulation made everything turn blurry

when waking up, he'd be sat by your side. his hand would come caress your cheeks softly, travelling over each and every mark he had left like the stars of a constellations in the pure and silent sky of the night. you sigh, his single touch so soft it's like feeling clouds on your skin

"you look ethereal, muñeca"

you were his, his beautiful princess in a tower he'd built around for your own protection. he would do anything for you, if he had wounded even one of your hairs, he would have contemplated death.

would you ever even comprehend an ounce of his affection, of his love for you ? you were the only thing he ever wished for, ever cared about. he would've preferred to have been born as a part of you, so that he could've stayed with you forever. you were the best part of him, and he wondered what he had done to deserve such a beautiful lover

[wayfayrr]

I'm really happy you like my take on people pleasing reader ( ≧∀≦)ノ♡

<3<3<3

Expanding on the reader a little more is that I believe that there would be a lot of conflicting feelings toward the chain.

Like — the reader would eventually develop genuine affection for the chain because they're very charming people. Not to mention near death experiences bring people together. <333

Now, even with their affection, the fear of abandonment would always linger in the back of their mind. The chain is all they have to rely on in this new world. If they're discarded, who else could they turn to? Where else would stay? There isn't a guarantee that they could even return home.

Hyrule would be their potential resting place for the rest of their days. If they even live that long...

The situation — terrifying. Your entire life became shambles in a matter of minutes. And all you could do was hope for the best?

And with the chain, they were never obligated to take in the reader. It was a choice they made. And nothing could prevent these heroes from making a completely different choice.

Regardless, the reader is completely dependent on these men — and the reader is completely aware of this.

No matter how long they've been traveling together or how much they bond with one another, I think their paranoia would always outweigh anything else.

They love these people immensely, but they will never fully trust these people.

And that's something devastating for both sides to deal with.

oh anon the amount of angst you've added to this is just delicious, because you're so right about it all - as much as both sides really do care for each other there's always that underlying whisper of untrust and caution and I love it.

there are so many ways that it could be taken and how the different members would react that makes it such an interesting concept especially if the tables somehow managed to turn somehow because some of them might try to work on that untrust while others might use it to their advantage

[wizardofahz]

Saw a Criminal Minds gifset and suddenly started thinking about canon vs. fanon JJ.

TL; DR: Fanon JJ is the facade canon JJ puts on to hide trauma.

(This discusses JJ's sister, so content warning for suicide)

The obvious starting point for understanding JJ's characterization is her sister's suicide. That's a traumatic event for anyone, and even more so for an eleven year old child. So it's quite understandable that JJ decides she will do whatever she can to avoid experiencing hurt like that again.

In episode 3.17, JJ tells Will about their relationship, "I didn't want to tell anyone because the minute I do it becomes real, and when it becomes real, people get hurt, and I've always run from getting hurt. Always."

But JJ didn't only lose her sister.

In episode 14.12, JJ's mom admits, "I got so caught up in all my troubles that I forgot there was another little girl under my roof who had just lost her sister. You needed me, and I wasn't there."

At eleven years old, JJ was a traumatized child without a support system. So she learned to rely on herself. Other people were just avenues for hurt, and she decided that wasn't worth it.

All of which leads to this confession from JJ in the season 14 finale: "There are only four people I trust in this world."

My three non-negotiables are Will, Hotch, and Emily. The fourth is between Reid and Garcia, but I lean towards the former given Garcia's penchant for invading people's privacy.

Even if anyone disagrees with that list, there's not a lot of room for choice. At any given time, the BAU usually has seven members, and given the amount of turnover they've had, JJ hasn't learned to trust most of them.

Do they know that? They probably know her facade masks trauma, but I doubt they know the extent of it. There's a reason that episode starts with the team playing poker, and JJ showing Reid he doesn't know her as well as he thinks he does.

So let's talk about that facade. In contrast to Reid, who wears his trauma on his sleeve, JJ buries hers as deeply as she can. She takes care of the people around her, and while it's not disingenuous, it's part of a prettily painted reinforced fortress wall that says, "hey, look at me, such a put-together person that doesn't have problems of my own, so I can help with yours."

And it does the job because it has fandom fooled too.

[blujayonthewing]

pitched battle inside my brain between the part of me that's desperately shaking myself by the shoulders going "YOU HAVE GOT TO ACTUALLY LIVE THE KIND OF LIFE YOU IMAGINE INSTEAD OF JUST SITTING AROUND IMAGINING IT UNTIL YOU DIE!!" and the part of me that's clutching my face going "is this allowed? is this allowed?? is this allowed???"

[valeriianz]

had thoughts about Dream being able to sleep, how soft and human he would look. for your consideration:

Hob announced his arrival from work with a long sigh, heavy with exhaustion, and leaned into the door as he opened it and stepped into his flat. He dropped his keys in the little bowl and toed off his shoes. He had just shrugged off his messenger bag when he noticed a pair of large black boots in the living room, stark against his off-white rug. They were about a meter apart, like they’d been kicked off or tossed aside without a second thought.

With one brow raised, eyes scrupulous, Hob deposited his bag on the couch and bent down to pick up first one boot, then the other, tucking them together and neatly placing them on the wooden floor next to a bookshelf.

“Dream?” Hob called out, straightening up and casting his gaze upon the room. It wasn’t like Dream, when he paid surprise visits, to not immediately be within eyesight of the door, let alone leave his shoes haphazardly on the carpet.

Hob’s eyes landed on the entryway of the hall, spotting Dream’s thick, long coat in a heap on the center of the floor. Worry began to creep in as Hob slowly stepped up to Dream’s mystical coat, his pulse thrumming under his skin. He stooped down, grabbing it by the collar and brushing it off with his other hand. The material felt luxurious in Hob’s hands, soft like cashmere or shahtoosh, but also durable– something akin to wool or even canvas. Hob’s fingers caressed the fabric, feeling the lip of the tall collar between his thumb and fingers. 

Gently folding the coat over one arm, Hob continued down the hall, stepping softly, carefully. 

Hob’s bedroom door was open, the rays of the setting sun streamed in through the window and lit up the entryway, revealing more dark clothes in a jumble leading into the room.

Swallowing, lips parting, Hob bent down once more to collect Dream’s t-shirt, his pants and, following the line of mayhem, his socks, taking them all into his arms. Hob wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he finally straightened up and turned, but it certainly wasn’t this.

Hob almost dropped all the clothes he had spent carefully collecting, his mouth going dry. 

There was a considerable, person-sized lump in Hob’s bed, buried under his thick gray comforter. The only indication that it was indeed Dream laying in Hob’s bed, was the mane of wild dark hair poking out from the mass of linens.

Hob took a step forward, then another, crushing the pile of clothes to his chest as he walked around the bed, his gaze transfixed to the top of Dream’s head– a smattering of black ink spilled on his white pillow. He held his breath as he finally came to face Dream, the only part of him sticking out was his nose and eyes, Dream’s impossibly long lashes draped down, threatening to brush the tops of his cheeks.

Hob felt his jaw drop, lips parting in wonder at this ethereal creature in his bed.

Dream was sleeping.

Or… it looked like he was sleeping. The shape of him steadily rose and fell, imitating breath that Hob knew Dream didn’t need. Hob didn’t think Dream needed sleep, either… or was even capable of it. Was Dream sick? Had he been injured?

Hob quietly deposited the bundle of clothes into a wicker chair in the corner of his room, turning back to Dream and leaning over him, slowly pressing one hand into the mattress next to him, and bringing the other up to lay it against Dream’s forehead.

Hob immediately felt foolish, of course Dream didn’t get sick, he’d nearly beaten it into Hob by now, how Endless never fall ill (not in the way humans do, apparently), but Dream did actually feel quite warm. Hob moved his hand from underneath Dream’s soft fringe, grazing his fingers down the side of his head, brushing the shell of his ear, cheekbone, and across his pointed nose, unable to get any further with the blanket folded up tight around half his face.

With his heart lighter than it’d felt in a long time, Hob couldn’t resist carefully hooking his fingers around the edge of the comforter, leaning in close as he pulled it down to expose Dream’s lips and chin. He looked softer, like this– human and vulnerable. There’s a trust here, Hob knows, his chest tightening, as his knuckles caress down the line of Dream’s jaw, free of blemishes and marble smooth. Hob swallowed again, his eyes flicking down in unrestricted interest at the line of Dream’s concealed body, cocooned in creamy grays. He looked back up, focusing on plush lips that are too red for Dream’s alabaster skin, like they’d been bitten.

Hob’s own teeth pull on his bottom lip, moving his hand to press a thumb against that mouth, barely touching, like a paint brush, dragging it from corner to corner.

“What are you doing?”

Hob huffed a surprised laugh, but didn’t remove his hand. Dream’s voice was lower than usual, thick, and rumbly, pulled from a deep slumber.

“Checking your temperature,” Hob answered in a whisper. His breath caught in his throat as Dream’s eyelids fluttered open, crystal blue eyes focusing right on him.

Christ almighty, he was gorgeous. Hob still couldn’t believe it sometimes, that he was allowed to see this, to be regarded by such beauty, such a divine entity. That he could call Dream his, and be confident in the knowledge that he was Dream’s, too. Hob felt himself begin to shake, his thumb was still at Dream’s lips, which had parted slightly when he’d spoken, his hot breath hitting Hob and causing something both carnal and pure to race through his blood, something devotional.

“You’re quite warm,” Hob tried again. Dream hadn’t spoken, only watched him, like he was waiting for something.

“Yes,” Dream’s voice ran over Hob in that velvety way of his; a warm tide crashing over him and lifting Hob up.

“I was seeking warmth. You weren’t home, and I know how pleasant you are after a long rest.”

“Pleasant?” Hob’s lips curled in a smile, distractedly pressing his thumb a little harder against Dream’s bottom lip.

“Tepid.” Dreams amended, parting his lips and allowing Hob’s thumb access.

Hob gasped softly as Dream bit down, his eyes blazing now, the black of his iris growing so there was no more blue. Hob hummed, his fingers curled around Dream’s chin, tilting it up.

There’s a tongue that swipes the tip of his thumb and Hob knows he’s lost, feigning nonchalance was never his strong suit when it came to this entity in his bed. His heart crashes against his ribs and Hob’s sure Dream can hear it, can hear the desire there.

A bare arm slips out from the pile of gray and latches onto Hob’s bicep, pulling him down. Hob goes along with a smile, getting one knee up on the bed, then the other, dislodging his fingers from Dream’s face to steady himself.

They lift the comforter together, allowing Hob to crawl in next to Dream. The shock of the sudden temperature hike against Dream’s bare skin makes Hob’s breath catch, desperately wishing he’d taken his clothes off first.

“Christ, Dream it’s like a furnace under here.” He’s never felt Dream radiate so much heat before. He truly was learning something new about this man– Endless, every day.

Dream’s long arm pulls the blanket back down, going around Hob’s middle and tucking it under him, coaxing Hob to be flush against his sinew body, usually firm with restrained strength, now soft from sleep. Dream’s chin tilts down, lips brushing Hob’s forehead.

“Could be hotter,” he murmurs, lips traveling down, his sharp nose nudging against Hob’s face, encouraging him to meet him evenly.

Hob is already panting, he’s sure he’s already sweating too, but he meets Dream’s mouth eagerly, pressing hard, getting his hand back on his face to cup Dream’s jaw.

“Well,” Hob pants as Dream wetly breaks the kiss, pressing his lips instead up Hob’s face and into his hairline. “I certainly wasn’t expecting this today.”

Dream hums, the sound reverberating down his body and tickling Hob’s senses. 

“I’m pleased I can still surprise you.”