#no bc it's only fair

[bandzboy]

I MADE IT YOU GUYS....

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

finally at that age where i'm thinking i should get a tattoo. not bc i feel strongly about it, just seems like a waste not to. i've got so much skin i'm not using

[haunted-xander]

The rebirth demo has me so hyped how DARE you make me wait until the end of the month for the full game

[hrryshoney]

[shortnotsweet]

[ “SOMEBODY TOLD ME”]:

BREAKING MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME. SEVENTEEN TRACKS AND I’VE HAD IT WITH THIS GAME. A BREAKIN’ MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME—BUT HEAVEN AIN’T CLOSE IN A PLACE LIKE THIS.

— The Killers, Hot Fuss (2004)

Princess Rhaenyra’s insolence is wearing her stepmother’s patience thin. Queen Alicent is not ten years her senior, but even during her own sixteenth year, she cannot recall herself behaving so brazenly. She would never burst into courtly discussions in nothing but gilded armor and the underskirts of her riding leathers, awash in blood. (She would never be spotted in blood that was not her own, anyway. Alicent has never picked up a sword, not one that belonged to her.) Nevermind that Rhaenyra is attending to diplomatic affairs with bared teeth and scales, no—the crux of the matter is just that, her affairs. Rhaenyra is the Realm’s Delight, a beauty incomparable to any fair maiden, Alicent included. She indulges herself with appetite of a spoiled child, the confidence of man, and the pickings befitting only to her royal blood. Criston Cole. Daemon Targaryen. Harwin Strong. Laena Velaryon. She’s full of love, isn’t she? That selfish, foolish girl. What does Rhaenyra Targaryen know of love, of duty? She is a child in so many ways—she thinks killing makes her a man, thinks the throne is hers despite being a woman, thinks she can have her knight and her uncle and her protector and Laena Velaryon in one fail swoop. She’s wrong. She doesn’t know herself half as well as Alicent does. Alicent, who sees her for what she truly is, who wants to see all of her and more of her and none of her. Alicent has been stolen into the Keep by her own father—both of their fathers—but Rhaenyra is the key to this place, is the window to everything barred. Rhaenyra Targaryen has a dragon. Rhaenyra can fly.

That’s what Rhaenyra had promised her once, with her lips pulled back in a grin, exposing the white of her teeth like the violently radiant creature she was. “Perhaps when you grow tired of plotting against me, we shall ride on dragonback together,” she had said. The tease.

Alicent had yanked her into an empty corridor by the silk of her sleeve, ready to chastise her for her ill behavior. Conversing with the lords and ladies of the court at a feast was one thing, but chattering about her bloody encounters in battle over the pudding tureen were another. The lord at her elbow was going green. Alicent’s own face was likely red; her heart raced whenever Rhaenyra got like this. Alicent had never seen the battlefield—only seen battered men in dented armor and the slumps of corpses lined along dirt roads in the aftermath of war—but her own imagination terrified her like nothing else.

(Rhaenyra is better with a sword than half of the knights in Westeros, and more lovely than the lot. Her reign has not yet begun, but already the commoners flock to her—lured in by tales of her beauty and fine hair—and soldiers would follow her into battle. Alicent would not follow, but she would watch and bite her nails down to the quick.

She thinks of the figure Rhaenyra cuts in full armor, the heat in her gaze underneath the slots of her helmet. Alicent remembers the weight of her own hand in Rhaenyra’s—which was gloved—when the princess rode up to the spectators box and grasped it in her own, bringing Alicent’s knuckles to her lips. She thinks of Rhaenyra murdered in the sky, skewered with another man’s sword, plummeting to the ground, torn in half, streaking crimson across the clouds. Alicent would scream, or cry. She might laugh. She would throw herself from the window of her tower. Rhaenyra’s bloody exploits terrified Alicent for reasons she could not identify, and excited her for reasons she refused to.)

“I’d sooner be confined to the castle for the rest of my days than get on the back of that bloody lizard,” Alicent scoffed. Rhaenyra only tucked her hand over Alicent’s, where it was resting on her forearm. She flexed her fingers, moving to release her grip on the dark fabric, but Rhaenyra intertwined their fingers and held them fast.

“You’re confined already. You are already accustomed to such a thing. I know you. But—”

“But you forget yourself. You think you’re invulnerable, Rhaenyra. You don’t know who you are.” Alicent intends for it to be a sneer, but instead it comes out quietly, and too gentle for disdain. She can’t know. Rhaenyra is as trapped as she is, but they’re trapped together. They belong together. She belongs with Alicent.

“I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne and all of Westeros. I am a dragonrider. I am—I am your daughter. In a way. Your sister, too. Your enemy. Your sword, your shield.”

“And what am I?” What else is left for me? Alicent wonders.

“My Queen. For now.” Rhaenyra cocks her head, and the gleam in her eyes burns like fire raining down. “When I am Queen, you will be my lady.”

[nosfelixculpa]

All I want...is one thing. To keep the others safe. They mean so much to me. So, please...tell me how to do that. I'm begging you.

FINAL FANTASY VII: REBIRTH (2024) SQUARE ENIX

[jvzebel-x]

here's an update for all the "tOuRiSm iS fOr ThE pEoPlE" fucks. always remember that the second anyone steps foot on that land in the name of "tourism" or any other haole institution, that is colonizing&that person is a fucking explicit modern colonizer who made the conscious decision to be one and has spent a lot of fucking money on that trip to get their title. only that kine want more of their kin there-- don't pretend that shit is for anyone else.

drop dead of spontaneous combustion specifically, not even the sharks would want that pīlau fucking meat.

[ickadori]

getou and gojo suck in a poly pair bc they love each other more than they love you

[applestruda]

Desert duo and some crane wives songs i associate with them

(The songs are the garden, canary in a coal mine, and never love an anchor)

[highhhfiveee]

mikey and his sunshine gf. need i say more

i haven't written much fluff about sweetgf!reader and dickheadbf!mike, but once again, i feel like this is them!

tags: sweetgf!reader +dickheadbf!mike, fluff, one moment of suggestiveness, mike curves his fuck buddy for the love of his life ♡ errors bc even though i proofread, i’ve been so fucking tired blegh

sweetgf is super sweet to mike, and i know it may seem like you just love breaking him down and making him whiny and desperate for you, but you would literally grab earth in both hands and give it to him if that's what he wanted.

you'd been in lots of relationships where you'd gotten fully invested, pouring herself in (foolishly and) wholeheartedly. they all ended with you in tears, disheartened and jaded with humanity. after your last relationship burst into flames over you asking for just one bouquet of flowers for your birthday, you'd never wanted to be with someone ever again.

that is, until mike.

you'd first seen him with a tiny, well-endowed blonde girl, standing in line for a comically expensive beer at a nearly saturday concert. they were one of your favorite bands, and something about seeing him there, sexy and brooding and taking up so much space in the crowded drinks line, fascinated you. he looked bored beyond comprehension, eyes shadowy under the dim overhead lights and arms crossed over his chest as his friend dashed up to the booth when it was their turn, her body wracked with the movement of conversation.

he'd stayed back from her, a feet or so of space between them as she ordered, holding up a peace sign to signal two beers and flashing her ID. the vendor had to have said something off-putting, because mike rolled his eyes, a deep scowl set into his face as his friend was handed the beers, looking off into the distance.

he'd caught your stare. you swore at yourself because how embarrassing was it for him to catch you like that? redness blossomed over your features, but you still couldn’t look away. you two maintained eye contact for a bit, just staring until a smirk creeped onto mike’s face. it was so small from where you were, but it still shined on you like a million suns. you returned his action with your own grin, all teeth and embarrassment, sheepishly looking down to the ground before your friend pulled on your forearm. you’d forgotten you were standing in the merch line with her, frozen where you’d stood.

“c’mon y/n! we gotta get our merch so we can get to our seats before they start!”

you two were up in the mezzanine, front row seats protected by metal railings. you were almost at the end of the row, two seats left beside you, and you wondered if anyone would sit there. the concert hall had started to fill up more post opener, and you felt the jitters of seeing your idols living and breathing in front of you creeping around under your skin.

you’d decided to put your merch on, sliding your arms and head through the respective holes. you met mike's smirk again when you'd finished, all of the moisture leaving your mouth. he was sitting in the seat beside you, his friend in the one at the very end. they both had their large beer mugs in hand, and you couldn't stop thinking about how mike could hold the monstrosity with just one, noticing that his friend needed both of her dainty ones. condensation trickled over his fingers.

the friend looked over at you with wide, friendly eyes, pointing at your shirt with a gasp.

"oh em jee, that shirt is so cute! i didn't even get a chance to look at the merch, the line was so long and i didn't want to miss the beginning of the show. how much was it?" she talked so quickly, not a single mistake made.

"$40," you mumbled, choking on your answer as you tried to shift your eyes away from mike. he'd begun sliding down in the seat, manspreading his legs. his knee grazed yours ever so slightly, and you worked hard to maintain your poker face. "uh, $40," you tried again after clearing your throat.

"sick! hopefully there are some after the show. thanks," the girl smiled at you, sugary and beaming with pink lipgloss, before leaning towards mike's ear and whispering something to him.

she'd giggled after, placing a hand on his thigh and a kiss on his cheek, and you'd concluded that she had to be his girlfriend, or at least someone he was seeing. it was disrespectful of you to keep staring at him, wondering how his hands would feel traversing every inch of your body. you finally wrenched your eyes away from him, focused on the stage.

once the show had started, everyone was on their feet except for mike, and maybe a few other people that felt the same way he did. he was watching with indifferent eyes, leisurely downing his beer. there was a better show right next to him; you, or rather your ass, in his face, shimmying around to the up-tempo pop punk. claudia, his date-fuckbuddy-whatever the hell, had tried so many times to get him to stand up, but he didn't budge.

he hated this kind of music honestly, but watching you having the time of your life, singing along to every lyric and note change, made him want to enjoy it with you. for you. you looked so happy, so lively, shouting words at your friend's face and bouncing along to amplified rhythms. your aura was so bright, and something about it made mike's chilly heart defrost.

after the band had done their "last" song, he'd whispered into claudia's ear for another beer. she'd bought his first one even though he'd offered to pay, and he decided that he would let her be as generous as she wanted to be. mike saw it as compensation, considering that fact that he'd had only come because she needed a ride.

she'd nodded enthusiastically, taking off after giving mike another kiss on the cheek.

he turned to you then, reaching up to poke at your shoulder. you glanced back at him, grinning shyly. "you caught me staring at you before the show. quite the coincidence that you and your girlfriend had seats next to us."

he shook his head, saying, "claud's not my girl, and yeah, i did catch you. no coincidence though. these were the seats on her tickets." he'd left off the part of the story where he'd seen you as he walked down the stairs of the mezzanine, asking claudia to switch seats because he "hated" sitting on the end.

his smile beamed through the darkness of the hall, adding to the brightness around you once the lights onstage came up once more. they don't make you turn away from him, and you were staring at each other again. he stood to his feet finally, pulling his phone from his pocket and shoving it your way. "here. give me your number and we can talk more about it later."

you took his phone into your hands dumbfoundedly, typing out your number as the first chords of the encore song vibrated around you. you'd filled out your contact, adding two eye emojis to your name, before giving mike his phone back with another shy smile. "yeah. i'd like that."

he danced with you for the final two songs. he didn’t think he'd ever had this much fun with someone other than abby.

claudia had run down the stairs after the house lights came back on, holding the new beer mugs to her chest. the moisture made her shirt cling to her boobs, and you could see all the eyes around that trained on her.

"beer for you," she mused, trying to hand it over, but mike raised his hand, declining. "it's okay. didn't want it after all."

claudia frowned, looking around at the masses of people moving out of the venue. "but mikeyyyyyyyyy, i missed the encore for it!" you shouldn't have liked that he sent her away so that he could enjoy the rest of the concert with you, but it ignited this feeling in you that you couldn't get rid of, warm and fuzzy in your heart and in your core,

"i'll pay you back," mike spat, unaware of your friend tugging at your arm again so that you two could leave and beat the traffic outside. you gave him a wave and a smile as you were hastily whisked up the stairs, and he'd winked back, a tiny, almost undetectable action.

mike was never one to text back on the same day he'd gotten a number. "later" was an ambiguous time to him, but this time, he felt compelled to send you a message once he'd dropped claudia off and let her down gently, a simple, "i just don't think we're compatible." he'd expected claudia to shrug it off, but instead, she screamed, cried, begged for mike not to reject her. it was sad to him, but confusing as well. they'd never ever been together, meeting on an app strictly for hookups.

"mike, please. i really like you. i want to be with you." how the two of you had gone from casual fucking to her thinking she was in love, mike didn't know, but he just blurted out a fake remorseful, "sorry" before pulling away from her house.

he didn't want to sit around wasting time. he had someone to text.

the rest was history, really.

you'd expected mike to be an asshole through and through. he was aloof in this way that you didn't think you liked, and he'd reminded you of so many people you'd been with before, acting like caring about someone with your whole being (or at least some of it) was a waste of energy and time, but he'd proved you wrong.

you'd told him about your relationship past, and he decided that he needed to change everything for you. he took you on consistent dates, rotating between your choices and his, listened to you talk about everything and nothing, carried you on his back whenever you wanted, genuinely comforted you when you cried; he even woke you up on your birthday with breakfast and a bouquet of flowers, adding an extra flower for every year.

he was a dickhead sometimes, ignoring you or giving you his pitiful, patronizing eyes when you said something flighty or annoying you with his childish gripes when he was irritated, but you always softened him up, smiling or laughing or eyelash fluttering your way into making him relax, making him sigh and nuzzle into you. he loved hugging you tight, feeling your energy through your skin, rocking you and your pastel dresses back and forth.

you were so brilliant, shining so brightly on him that he couldn't help but cave in. mike loved giving himself to you, servicing you in any and every way; you never went unsatisfied with him.

it doesn't take much for him to do anything for you, wanting to show you he cares, that he loves you. you were a delicate thing in his eyes, so perfect and celestial, a literal angel sent from heaven to be his. you and your gentle, loving eyes and soft, soothing caresses. you felt the same way, so deeply enamored with him in every way. he'd taught you so many things, so many things about yourself and your body, so many things you would only give to him. submission was shared between you, making you both soft for each other.

you couldn't believe that you two had made it this far, a few years in and still going strong, though mike had never really gotten better at fully communicating when he's upset. he tries his best, you know, but you can tell he's having trouble when he comes into the house from picking abby up. she runs past you, yelling hi on her way to draw in her room. mike just huffs as he takes off his jacket and moves around the living room, mildly sulking around.

you're painting your toes, and look up at his back with gentle eyes. "mikeyyyyyy," you chorus, watching how his shoulders slightly drop at your voice. "what's wrong?" he hated when anyone else called him mikey, but somehow, you always prodded at his soft spot, disarming him.

he faces you now, all pouty and irked and you make grabby hands for him, cracking a warm smile as he sits on the couch and scoots so you're in his arms and halfway in his lap. your perfume distracts him momentarily, and he inhales deeply, laughing as you swat him, trying to talk between your own giggles. "mikeee, stop. tell me what's wrong."

"my sandwich," his tone is exasperated, nearly a wail. he closes his eyes. "no sourdough."

"again?" you say, toning it with as much compassion as you could. you loved mike, but he was always disappointed by this sandwich. this place he went to never had sourdough apparently, and you believed it. you'd only seen him get it a couple times a month, joyous and cheery and the most excited that he'd finally gotten his favorite lunch treat. "why don't you do different bread again? which one did you do that last time?"

"rye, and it's not the same. not bad, but not sourdough."

"well, you don't have to let it get you down, baby." you stroke his arm, rubbing the hair at the nape of his neck and pressing your lips to his temple for a few long kisses. he sighs under you, his breathing even. "you'll get your sandwich. you always do."

little did he know that you meant you'd make it for him personally every day, using his card to get the ingredients every time you needed to restock.

you'd have it prepared in a ziploc bag for him, and it didn't matter if you were at his house, or your own; there wasn't one day since then that he hadn't gotten his sandwich on sourdough, and a cute little note with doodles and wishes and fantasies from you, signed with "i love you the most" in neat, swirling cursive, your name, and three hearts. he thought your sandwich was better by a mile.

you were one of his bright spots, his sun. his star.

hehe cutie origin story (i am so tired, so eepy). hope you all enjoy this one <3 i love this dynamic and i think they're so fun to write about.

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites

[unexpectedbrickattack]

panel from a comic i am NOT going to finish u.u

Bonus close up of Peppino (bc i love how he came out heehee) and a face from another scrapped panel ^^

[parasitic-anomaly]

Macaque put down the pumpkin please

[riickgrimes]

[b4kuch1n]

one string is all that I need

[luck-of-the-drawings]

OH ARTHUR BENNETT.. such a gorgeous and intriguing character. terribly burdened by a GRUESOME set of crimes, his light suffocated by a HEAVY century of GUILT. so tragic, so dark and broody, and yet PAINFULLY awkward in any social setting ever

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 99

i have NEARLY finished the skirt for my ren faire fit i just gotta get a few finishing details added and also get the undershirt bleached (bc i got a bunch of makeup on it at last years fair and shit Stained) but THEN i can show yall the final fit!!