#marshall mention

[chaosites]

Reasonings!

Jax x Kira : Tied for Most Likely To Complete LAKE'S TURKEY DINNER CHALLENGE

Neil x 🧤 : Tied for Biggest Gamer

HERO x Ky-l13 x Si : Threeway Tied for Best Appointment Attender

Neil x Mimi : Tied for Best Simplyplural Icon

Nastasia x Vixxxx : Nastasia barely lost to it for Best Kink 🔞

Colbie x Marshall : They faced off in the chaosite friendlies and colbie drew them making out. Also this

Trent x Lucifer : Trent became Lucifer's lil errand boy for fag reasons a while back , this

Chara x Marcy : Canon Marcy is their favorite ever, Marcy drew them hugging once, heavily implying it happened in the innerworld

Lazuli x Lonnie : They faced off in the chaosite friendlies and Lonnie drew them getting dykey 🔞

Ky-l13 x Toko : this

Angie x Tobi : this

[autumnalfallingleaves]

The thing about Commander Cody fans is that they will see a Cody that is five pixels max and experience shrimp emotions

It's me I'm Commander Cody fans

[azuremist]

“If y’all go crazier over Gary and Marshall than you did for Bubbline-” Have you considered that QUEER REP IS NOT A COMPETITION, YOU FUCKING FED

[humans-are-tasty]

[whydotheycallmechimney]

the vampire diaries universe really has a difficult time letting their female characters be simultaneously kind and nurturing while also showing them to be strong and capable women, which is why hayley is so refreshing to see. yes, she’s a mother and a voice of reason within the chaotic mikaelson family but she’s also ruthless and petty at times. she’s headstrong and able to speak and fight for herself, but she’s also vulnerable and longs for someone to take care of her (which I think comes from her being forced to grow up with herself as her only form of protection)

[ratwithhands]

Character relations/opinions!

Alright before I post any more Battle Addict stuff I should probably explain what a League Council is. Here's a summarized diagram:

A Pokemon League is a region's network of specialized skilled trainers. It is run by the League Council, which includes finance, HR, marketing, PR, and other managing departments which are divided into different branches depending on who they work with.

This is all to say that everything gets messy very quickly when news of the diagnosis spreads through the network. Originally the diagnosis was supposed to be private information for only the Battle and League departments, however certain higher ups felt it was a safety risk and notified gym leaders as well in the event of future collaborations.

The network is mostly divided into people who are positive/neutral about the news, and people who feel negatively about the twins as a result. Coworkers who were already familiar/close with the two tend to be positive, or at least supportive, whereas those who didn't know them got another reason to avoid them. Some people think they should go on leave for "recovery", but some are more forward and want them terminated.

If you're wondering where Cynthia falls in this, she's a foreign top league worker (Sinnoh Champion) who is hosted in Unova. Basically she has dept. employees assigned to help her connect to people around the region and get different services if requested. She's basically watching everything unfold from the sidelines, with every interview about her opinion boiling down to "lol if you're scared of people stronger than you then get good". She does also bring up historic accounts of CM/HCCM though, mostly to clarify that CM is not a new or scary thing. She's not for or against the twins, rather just hoping to use this as an opportunity to teach others.

I didn't end up drawing her because I got tired but Elesa got the news too!! She actually got it before everyone else since the twins decided to go tell her beforehand. The general scene basically had Ingo and Emmet deliberating in the car, Ingo telling Emmet it's not too late to turn around and go home while Emmet was hesitant but adamant that they needed to tell her first. She probably took it the worst out of everyone but that's mostly just cause it caught her off guard that her friends would just randomly drop in to deliver the news. She's still rooting for them though, mostly trying to support the Subway with more collaborative events to make the twins look better after the hit from the media. She also tries to rework Emmet's restraints where possible, usually trying to make them look more cohesive with the rest of an outfit or trying to make them less visible (cause as much as Emmet says it's not a big deal it's still the first thing he looks at in his reflection).

Here's them in alt clothes :7

Man is cuffed under there (T_T)

Can't really think of too much to say so hope you guys like the art and see you later!

[fear-ze-queer]

is nobody going to talk about this????

i just feel like we aren't focusing enough on this. marshall lee has a hambo ornament in his car

[nrmtenjoyer]

Y'know what? Fuck you.

*Cheers your Cheers*

[tofuthebold]

og somersault squad! i think it's a neat detail they've all got the same one-ish. (Poor Paul :P)

background painted over a photo by Lars Plougmann/CC-BY-SA-2.0

[davemustaine]

metallica, live in newcastle, england | 9/19/1986

rob thompson on flickr

[chaosites]

CHAOS SYSTEM FRIENDLIES ROUND 1 B-SIDE

Marshall @marshall-lee-everybody propaganda: funny as hell,committed to the bit, hot.

Mika @nurse-mika propaganda: heavy trauma holder,will patch up your wounds.

[ruvviks]

// wip day.

i'm working on a new project that is (for once) not connected to any of my bigger original universes, so i thought i'd share some of the writing i have for it! taglist down below, feel free to take this opportunity to share your own wips (in a separate post of course) if you have any!! the first part is a sort of introduction to the story, from the perspective of main character marshall! the second part is a snippet from a scene much further into the story, to kind of paint a picture (for both you and myself lol) of what the setting and the tone of the story is gonna be like. it's a bit different writing than what you're used to from me so please take a moment to read the warnings first!! warnings >> blood, cult, death, implied cannibalism, gore, religion, violence

God won't speak to me.

He spoke to my sister when we were eleven, her howls echoing through the backyard of our childhood home as the venom of a wasp spread quickly through her veins.

He spoke to my mother the day we buried her oldest son, the hem of her alcohol-stained dress torn where it had caught on the thorns of a blackberry bush she had blankly passed through.

He spoke to my father the day he put the barrel of a .44 in his mouth, reenacting what he had classified a sin for all the wrong reasons, his trembling finger on the trigger strong enough to rip apart the last tendon holding our family together yet not to finish the job.

I was eighteen, when I was found on the river bank near Overture, Louisiana, the sharp end of a jagged knife plunged deep within my side and my bloodied hands clutching the cross necklace of my brother, my breathing akin to the ice cold shallow water grazing at my ankles as I stared up at the star-spotted sky with glazed over eyes, blue chapped lips shaped in the final hum of a prayer.

A black abyss stared back, a strained vacuum without comfort, leaving me with a plea unheard and the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

And God did not answer.

'Gotta dig… Just gotta dig. Gotta get 'em out of there… Gotta take 'em home…'

The physical distance between Marshall and the grave did not muffle the continuous mumbling, the shaky voice of the young priest clear as day like a whisper directly in his ear as the eerie silence looming over the church's cemetery left him with not much else to focus on. He knew he should turn around and leave, at that hour of the night— get back in his car and return to Posey in the motel, get some sleep while he still could— yet curiosity held him tight within its grasp, and each step he took pushed him closer into the wrong direction.

'Just the bones… Just the bones…'

The man was hunched over, back turned towards Marshall and partially obscured by the few last rows of gravestones stood between the two of them. His neck twitched— a sudden and unexpected movement at an angle Marshall did not hold for possible, yet it had happened entirely too fast for him to clearly see.

'Hey, is everything alright?' he called out; well against his better judgment, hairs on his forearms standing up straight as his feet carried him another few inches closer to the priest.

And the closer he got, the more he wished he had listened to himself.

If he had just turned away, he wouldn't have had to notice the unusual and unplaceable noises bubbling up from the priest's direction. He wouldn't have had to realize the priest was sat next to a coffin, yet to be lowered into an undug grave. (A curious practice, but Marshall was not one to judge— Overture'd had to endure a rather tiresome series of curiosities as of late, and an unburied corpse in the middle of bumfuck Louisiana in the midst of a yet to be explained power cut would be the least of its problems.)

'Just the bones…. Gotta dig… Gotta bring 'em home.'

'Do you need help?' Marshall persistently asked, his voice muffled by the thrumming of his own heart in his eardrums while his eyes trailed over the coffin— splintered and shattered at the lid, the glimmer of the distant church lights barely enough to reveal the outline of an axe resting on the dirt at the priest's ankles.

'Have to do it, there's no other way. Gotta dig, gotta dig, gotta dig—'

'Hey!'

Marshall should have never stayed in town.

He realized that now, as the priest's obsessive muttering came to a sudden stop forcing Marshall to hold still too— yet he had already approached too closely, and realized that no dirt had been dug in at all, and realized that the priest's hands were instead stuck inside the coffin repeatedly plunging deeper and deeper into the rotting remains of the corpse inside, once white vestment covered in blood and gore and he stared up at Marshall with a faint glow in two milky white eyes and with a wide grin exposing bloodied and shattered teeth, much akin to a predator looking at its next prey.

'Just the bones,' he repeated, the nodding of his head nearly belittling— as if to convince Marshall this was how it was supposed to be, as if to convince him the Word of God was not to be neglected and his fate as a sinner was a gift to the Divine Light and as if to convince him as long as he would not struggle it would all be over soon.

'Gotta dig.'

Marshall could not move, lamb to the slaughter as the priest rose to his feet with the axe in his hand.

'Just the bones! Gotta take 'em home.'

taglist (opt in/out)

@velocitic, @deadrlngers, @euryalex, @ordinarymaine, @gurathins;

@mojaves, @shellibisshe, @dickytwister, @mnwlk, @rindemption;

@ncytiri, @calenhads, @noirapocalypto, @florbelles, @radioactiveshitstorm;

@strafethesesinners, @fashionablyfyrdraaca, @aemondtargeryen, @radioactive-synth, @katsigian;

@estevnys, @elgaravel

[jedi-lothwolf]

Codywan Week Day 6: Quiet Love

Summary: Obi-wan and Cody love doing small things for each other. Even things they don't talk about or acknowledge. When Obi-wan's favorite pair of robes get damaged, he doesn't have the time to repair them. However, Cody finds a way to fix them.

    Obi-wan and Cody's love for each other was shown in quiet declarations. Small things they would do for each other. Sure they spent almost every night together, snuggling close to each other and holding each other. But they also slid their feet together at meeting tables and looked back at each other in crowds to make sure they were okay.

    Quiet love was their favorite. Cody remembered times where he would drop something under a table and he would sit up to see Obi-wan's hand on the corner, making sure he didn't hit his head. He remembered short touches when he was nervous.

    They would sneak kisses in empty halls and hold hands on walks in the woods. They loved it almost as much as they loved each other.

"Are you ever going to fix those robes?" Cody asked his partner.

"I don't have the time." Obi-wan sighed as he folded the set of robes and put them in a drawer.

"They're your favorite." The site of robes were just about the same color as most of the ones he wore. However the fabric was softer and slightly more worn. It made them more comfortable to wear.

"I know. I'm sure I'll do it soon." With that he closed the drawer. "I'm going to go get something to eat, want anything?"

"Maybe some coffee?" Cody answered.

Obi-wan smiled and left the room. That's when Cody started to look around the room for a needle and thread. He had learned some domestic skills when he was bored on Kamino or in-between missions. Sewing was one of his favorites even if it was still somewhat difficult.

Finding the small repair kit Obi-wan's had tucked away in a drawer, the clone removed the set of robes from the drawer. Then he sat down at the table and found the holes he needed to mend.

After finding the holes, Cody started to stitch them shut. It wasn't perfect but slowly he fixed each and every hole he could. The larger ones were easier to work on. Like every time he tried to sew, he stabbed himself with the needle a few times. However most of the lines were straight so at least it wouldn't look horrible.

When he finished, Cody placed the robes back in the drawer as well as the sewing kit. Then he simply waited for Obi-wan to return. He placed a bandage on one of his fingers since he had poked it with the needle multiple times.

When Obi-wan returned, he gave Cody his coffee as well as an orange flower he had found. "This reminded me of you." He smiled.

"Thank you." Taking the coffee and the flower, Cody sat on the bed. He didn't think about the robes until later. After all, he didn't do it for anything other than making Obi-wan's life easier. In fact, he didn't think he needed to tell him. Later that week, the Jedi would think about it and pull them out like he had done that day. This time, he would see that all the holes had been closed.

The two men enjoyed the rest of their evening together. Cody stayed over that night. He shut the light off and crawled into bed. Obi-wan made sure his feet were covered by the blanket.

Later that week, Obi-wan was alone in his room. He had a pile of paper work that needed to be done. Still, he opened one of his dresser drawers. Pulling out his favorite set of robes, he saw that someone had already mended them. Smiling, Obi-wan knew he needed to thank Cody. He knew he would wear them the next day and he knew that it would make his beloved commander smile. Oh how he loved the little things.

[brother-emperors]

you know that post about how scholars talk shit about each other when they write the phrase 'one might be tempted to assume,' or however it went. the entirety of crassus scholarship is like this.

[thebenediktmontagov]

we as a fandom don't talk enough about the fact that benedikt, roma and marshall had a golden retriever named tsarina

[montammil]

June of Doom Day 7 - "What happened?"

| Nightmare | Isolation | Stumbling |

Characters: Lawrence, Marshall

For once, I decided to make Lawrence the super emotionally vulnerable one lol.

CW: Parental whumper, stockholm syndrome, nightmares, death (in nightmare), yandere whumper

...

Lawrence woke up with a jolt. He'd been in the middle of a nightmare, but then realized his blankets were tossed onto the floor. His hands were shaking as he rubbed his eyes, pushing his sweat-soaked hair from his face.

He clutched his own beating heart and tried to slow his breaths, which turned to pants as the anxiety gripped his lungs.

It took a few minutes for him to finally calm down. He ran his fingers over his wet cheeks. It had been a while since he had such an awful dream.

He didn't even remember what it was about until he thought of Marshall.

Those green eyes that normally shone so bright were dull in his hellscape of a dream. The light in them was snuffed out, and Lawrence screamed so loud in his dream, his throat felt sore in real life. He scrambled out of bed and hurried into Marshall's bedroom, slamming open the door.

He was expecting to see his boy there, sleeping as restlessly as he usually did, but his bed was empty.

Lawrence froze for just a moment, and then felt back on the verge of a panic attack.

"MARSHALL?!" he cried, racing out of the room and stumbling down the hall so fast he nearly slipped and fell. There was no way, he wasn't gone. He couldn't be gone. His nightmare wasn't reality.

He frantically opened the doors, ignoring how loud they slammed into the walls. It didn't matter to him in this moment.

He continued screaming his name, but was interrupted by the sound of the toilet flushing and a door opening. He let out a strangled sound and bolted for the bathroom.

Marshall emerged, rubbing his eyes blearily.

He was just as Lawrence had left him hours earlier: in a loose pajama shirt and sweats, with his thick brown hair tangled from sleep.

Lawrence ignored the puzzled look on Marshall's face as he tackled him into a hug, letting out a choked sob. Marshall tensed, but relaxed in the embrace, patting his back awkwardly. He let Lawrence fuss over him, looking him over for injuries.

"What happened? Am I in trouble? I was just using the bathroom," Marshall anxiously explained. His eyebrows shot up. "Woah, are you crying?"

Lawrence sniffled and pulled away, pressing his palms against Marshall's shoulders. "You're okay. You're okay," he repeated. Marshall was sure he had completely lost his mind. He ran his fingers through Marshall's hair. "God, don't scare me like that ever again, do you hear me? Please, please, never do that again."

"Uhh, okay... sorry." Marshall learnt the best way to avoid getting scolded or worse was to just go along with it. Even if he had no clue what he did. "Did you have a bad dream or something?"

"Yeah... wanna sit on the couch, watch a movie?"

"It's two in the morning."

Lawrence put his arm over his shoulder and led him out of the bathroom. "So? We can make hot cocoa, you love that stuff. And what ever movie you want!" Marshall looked hesitant. "Please, kiddo? I don't want to be alone right now. We can sleep in extra late tomorrow, and I can even bake you those madeleines. And I can even make--"

"Okay, okay! No need to bribe me." Marshall gave him a lopsided smile.

Lawrence returned the smile. He had been so terrified to go to sleep ever again after that. The thought of losing Marshall drove him mad. He couldn't stand the thought of losing his child to anything.

They settled on the couch with their cups of hot cocoa, a warm blanket, and one of Marshall's favorite movies.

Marshall hated to admit it, but he was genuinely worried over his captor. He scooted closer, to lean his head on his shoulder. "Do you wanna talk about it? The nightmare?"

The blond turned his head towards him. He pondered it for a moment. "It was about you." His grip on the mug tightened. "You don't need to hear about it, Marshie. I don't wanna traumatize you."

Marshall resisted the urge to tell him he didn't do a good job at that. "No, I want to. If, um, you're willing to tell me."

"I..." Lawrence trailed off. Marshall didn't know if it was a good idea to press him further or not, but Lawrence then went on, "I don't know the details, but you were hurt. You were crying, and there was a lot of blood. And I couldn't do anything to help you. I just had to watch you--" His voice cracked and he cut himself off. Marshall's eyebrows knitted together. "But then I woke up and you weren't in your room, and I thought maybe that was it, that it had all happened in real life."

"Oh." Marshall stared at the TV screen, not knowing where else to look. It hurt to look at the pain in Lawrence's eyes.

Lawrence wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't be listening to this, I'm supposed to be the one comforting you." He laughed, but it came out as more of a strangled sob.

Marshall didn't know what to do. He put his mug down on the coffee table and turned so he could hug him properly, wrapping his arms around his torso.

"I'm okay. See? I'm here with you. Nothing's gonna happen to me. Not if you're watching over me," he reassured. He cringed internally at the words, but he knew that would make Lawrence feel better. And that's what he needed.

"Oh, Marshall." Lawrence embraced him back. He pressed his lips against his temple. "I would never let anyone hurt you. You know that, right? You know how much I love you, don't you?"

He swallowed nervously. "Yeah, I do."

"You're all I have," he murmured. His nails dug into the back of Marshall's neck. "I'm never, ever, going to lose you. You belong here. Right here, in my arms, where you're safe." Lawrence's possessive behavior was no longer scary, it was just plain annoying. It made Marshall's stomach churn. "Where I can protect you. From the bad people out there."

Marshall didn't view Lawrence as a bad person, but misunderstood. He was delusional.

Marshall knew he could be cruel and controlling, but he wasn't some villain from a superhero movie. He was a man with problems and needs, like everyone else.

He didn't believe he had stockholm syndrome... he was just an empathetic person. That's what he kept telling himself.

Lawrence's grip tightened. "You know that, right? And--and if anyone tried to hurt you, I'd kill them. I would. I'd do anything to protect you."

"Yeah, I know. But no one is coming after me, and if they did, then you'd be there to keep me safe." Marshall yawned. He hoped Lawrence would get the hint, and thankfully, he did.

He released Marshall from the crushing hug and sat back again. "Right. I would. Don't forget that. Ever."