#hey guys u miss me

[enoraces]

hugh: my girl is mad at me

hugh: i hope i die

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Late Night Talking

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[tabooiart]

your favorite cat in derezzed? :3

its a little unfair how good demeter looks in these colors

[horde-princess]

so okay like. okay so. in evangelicalism everything is about spiritual warfare right. if you're not a soldier for god then you’re working for the devil, whether you know it or not. it's super interesting to see how nate stevenson plays with different sides of this.

adora was turned into a weapon for the “heroes,” while nimona was considered a weapon for the "villains.” along with the subversion of these institutionally-defined roles in both stories, there's this common thread where nimona and adora both reject this label of being a "weapon" - either for OR against the unjust system. 

which is weird right? why would nimona care if someone called her a weapon for good. it becomes clear though when you think about the religious metaphors... it’s always about choice.

(x)

i think the word weapon is intended to convey a sense of absent free will. you're not the one making decisions, someone else is controlling you in their own war. in nimona’s case it’s about rejecting the church's perception that being queer = being used by satan, and then nate goes a step further in she-ra to say actually, the real weapon was when i was being wielded by the church. in either case, i reject the idea that i’m just a pawn in some kind of spiritual war, and also reject your perception of me as such. i have the power to claim autonomy over my own life - "i am not a weapon.”

so with this context we can more fully appreciate adora’s line here, the whole metaphor of she-ra being a weapon and how it wraps up with a bold and genuinely heretical statement that challenges christian control of the narrative. you could think of "weapon" literally, like the inquisition which helped inspire nimona’s character, and she-ra addresses christian imperialism in general. but more subtly it’s also evangelicals believing that it’s ok to harm & traumatize people in the name of “love.” a huge theme in the show is about this uniquely cruel trauma of being taught to hate and attack lgbt+ people while you yourself are repressing your identity and sense of belonging in the community.

THIS IS SO MUCH TO THINK ABOUT HHHH NIMONA IS SO GOOD!!!!!!

[evocatiio]

if chibnall was the one writing this season you lot would be talking VERY differently

[fizzstix]

messaging... texting even... communicating........

[percqbeths]

if all it is is 8 letters (why is it so hard to say?)

He had no clue where the confidence in her came from, but he clings to it like a safety blanket. Briefly, for just one more second, he allows himself a glance at Annabeth. Something shifts in his chest, but he wills it away. He can’t let himself fixate on that weird feeling, not while he has a quest to finish.

Maybe he’ll think about it later. (He won’t, he can’t, he tells himself.)

or, five times percy almost says i love you, and the one time he actually does.

[read on ao3 here]

[rare-agere-reverie]

I have a fanfic request for welcome home (if your don’t mind!)

Caregiver(s): Eddie Dear

Regressor(s): Wally Darling

Plot: Eddie is going back to his home after he finished his mail route and spots an overstimulated, regressed Wally trying to hide his regression. Eddie decides to help Wally.

Please and thank you! 👋😅

Woo my first fic for the blog and it’s my hyperfixation! Hope I did your idea justice anon 📬

Something to Hold

CG!Eddie Dear + Little!Wally Darling

“Here’s your mail, Julie!” cheerfully proclaimed Eddie. He pulled a primary-colored letter with a pawprint stamp from his bag. The rainbow monster joyfully took it from him.

“Thanks for the letter, Eddie,” she replied, “Can you play Magic Bakery with me?” The mailman froze a little, remembering the last time Julie played that game. Poppy’s kitchen needed an entire week of cleaning after her sugar potion erupted in a splash of batter.

“I’d like to, but I don’t think I’m up for it,” Eddie excused, his right hand scratching at the back of his neck.

“That’s okay, I bet Frank would love to play Magic Bakery,” reassured Julie confidently. “Bye Eddie! Hope your day’s fun!”

“I’ll see you later!” He tipped his hat as he strolled away. Feeling his hand around inside his mailbag, Eddie sighed freely when he didn’t touch a single letter. Now that his day’s work is done, his schedule is free. Maybe I should fold some paper butterflies; Frank would love that. How about I cut a ribbon of stars? I could even deliver it to Sally. 

Caught up in his thoughts, Eddie tripped over a pebble. Slight pain flared a bit as he landed face first on the grass. He propped himself up, only to spot something small behind the post office.

Huh, did someone leave a package? 

Eddie kept walking, then realized the figure was one of his neighbors. His steps slowed stealthily, as if worried about scaring the person off. Hiding around a corner of the building, the mailman realized it was actually Wally.

The small darling seemed quiet and tense, unlike his usual content self. His ascot hung loose around his neck, his cardigan unbuttoned and nearly falling from his shoulders, and his chest heaving unsteadily. In Eddie’s favor, Wally’s eyes are too trained on the apple in his hands to notice someone spying on him. A self-soothing behavior taking virtually no effect.

The taller friend’s worry only grew at the sight. What could’ve scared him so badly? …I finished my route; it wouldn’t hurt to take a break. A sporadic yet subdued burst of footsteps carried Eddie closer, alerting Wally of his presence.

“Hey Darlin’,” the concerned man sat beside the shorter, “do you need any help?” With a slight turn of the head towards his friend, Wally’s shaking pupils dragged themselves to meet Eddie’s gaze. 

“No,” he decided, his voice soaked in anxiety. A blatant lie, unfit for a usually happy friend and neighbor.

“Oh, Wally, it’s okay to ask for help,” Eddie soothed, reaching a hand out for the frazzled artist. The painter hesitated, glancing wearily between his apple and his friend’s palm. Said friend never stopped displaying such genuine affection, effectively winning Wally over. Wordlessly, one hand held the red fruit while the other hovered over Eddie’s hand. The mail carrier kept a loose yet secure grip, propped Wally up, and led him inside the post office.

For the most part, the inside sparkled with cleanliness; only a side table was littered with scrap paper from a previous crafts project. Eddie placed his hat and work bag on the wall hooks behind the reception desk, and let go of Wally in the process. Free to explore, Wally felt drawn to the table of leftover materials, eyeing every individual paper. When the off-duty mailman returned his attention to his friend in need, his confusion grew a little. After all, Wally’s tantalized by spare pieces of the paper crowns he made for Sally’s last play.

“What is it, Darlin’?” Eddie asked, joining Wally at the cluttered table.

“Red,” mumbled the yellow puppet, pointing at a pile of paper triangles with the same color. He thoughtlessly placed his apple on the table, and admired the differing shades between the maroon scraps and the scarlet fruit.

“That’s right; they’re both red,” awkwardly added Eddie. Despite his quiet exhale unknowingly releasing itself, he couldn’t stop thinking about the unfamiliar behavior unfolding next to him. I’m glad he’s feeling better, but something ain’t right.

“Gween,” Wally muttered, now pointing towards a couple of poorly-cut ovals. That certainly snapped the distracted mailman out of his thoughts.

“Green?” repeated Eddie, mental wheels finding enough courage to turn. Maybe he wants to distract himself with colors, he rationalized. At this apparent correction of pronunciation, the secretly-regressed little darted his eyes down to his fingers, which gently tapped on the table.

“Yeah, that,” spoke Wally, voice shy and small. It melted Eddie’s heart with melancholy, yearning for the artist’s happiness to return. 

“I didn’t mean to make you sad, Darlin’,” affirmed Eddie, his words sweeter than any apples Wally had seen. “Just know I want to help you find your smile again, okay?” The regressor nodded confidently, his clear gaze fixed onto Eddie’s while his hands made a grabby motion towards the mail carrier.

“Oh! You want a hug?” Words escaped Wally; he could only repeat his grabby hands. “Aww, of course I will, Darlin’!” Protecting arms wrapped snugly around the little’s limp body.

Smiles on their faces, they stayed like that until Wally’s eyes slowly closed. Naturally, Eddie pulled out his Murphy bed and tucked the sleepy darling underneath soft blankets. As one of them napped, the other lovingly watched over them.

[loafbud]

Just took my first biology exam and got a pretty decent score of an F! 🎉🎉🎉

[sieglinde-freud]

FALCHION INIGO BABY LETS FUCKING GO!

[blapeh]

-jordan barret

[lvllns]

wip whateverdayitis

i got tagged by the lovelys, @rosebarsoap @malefiicarum and @moonmothers !! i will tag @faerune @merry-harlowe @kirnet @princesshoneytea and anyone else!! i’m so sorry if i miss anyone my brain is mush right now omg

i can offer you. some original project. >:)

—

Eliseo always assumed he would die when the world had already burned to ash.

As it turns out, he dies on an unremarkable Thursday afternoon in early spring. Clouds coat the sky, blocking any hope of sunlight as the rain begins to fall. Light at first. A faint drizzle. He slides down the brick wall at his back when his knees buckle, and the ground is already wet by the time he hits pavement. The rain picks up. Drops hammering his head, his clothes. Dripping down his shirt and catching on blood around the wound. Splitting around the arrow shaft. Seeping into fabric and turning the growing puddle beneath him a murky red.

He gasps. Pointless, really. His eyes dart back and forth. Ricochet from the alley entrance to the wall in front of him to—

“Eli?” Lincoln’s voice cracks. “What…”

It takes effort to focus his vision. To watch Lincoln step further in, boots clicking and hands shaking and their eyes impossibly wide. Eliseo sees it then. The flicker. The shift.

“I—”

“Shut up,” they snap. “Just, stop talking.”

“Li—”

“Eliseo.”

He clicks his jaw shut. Coughs up blood that bubbles along his lips.

“I can fix this.” Eliseo shakes his head. “I can. I can just…I can fix this.”

Eliseo wants to point out the obvious. Their arrow lodged deep in his chest. He refrains, if only to spare them from telling him to shut up again. This was a game one of them was set to lose, and he made a foolish error.

“It’ll be fine,” he says.

Or he thinks he says. He’s not sure he can speak loud enough anymore, and his words may have slurred together, but Lincoln laughs anyway. He knew he could count on them.

He just wishes he had died before they found him.

Let him spare them the vision.

“Of course it’ll be fine,” they say. They rub their hands together as they kneel by his side. “Hold still.”

Eliseo exhales and the world goes black.

[lokh]

testosterone can make ur gums bleed more?????????

[delicatetaysversion]

my best friend's MOTHER called me to scold me about being depressed and self isolating lol what has life even come to

[minnielvr]

back for da summer⁉️⁉️ maybe ill finish die for you😲😲

[pohlepen]

frankie has a younger half brother named owen that i wanna eventually make a blog for (maybe i'll make him a side blog now that we can reply from sideblogs????), but the most important thing to know is that he had a really good upbringing and was loved and safe and their father got clean + sober for THIS second family. and the worst thing that happens to owen is frankie finding him and telling him about her life, because it rocks owen's shit to his core because this whole time he was loving his dad and living his life and there was nothing wrong or bad. and then he finds out that this person he looked up to and respected was totally different and it feels like he never actually knew him at all.