#once upon a time... {ic}

[elders-rps]

Argh, this is boring! Why are we even here

*while she was talking, the others were trying to shush her, with zero success*

Ugh, dammit you! You always-

*Leaf puts a hand over her mouth*

Sorry about that, they can be quite the handful.

- @mismatched-magical-warriors

"Huh...? I don't remember you."

*You ended up in a forest. A small green fairy and a masked, white haired person are the only people around.

[kosemsultanim]

Catherine’s Costumes in Season 3 of The Great requested by anonymous

[mangobeast]

figured i might post this slow down here too because i like seeing the individual frames!! and maybe y’all will too. i’m rotoscoping an axel from nikolaj memola (second jumping pass here) because he shares a similar physique to crowley and i don’t have to do much more work other than deciphering what his body parts are doing in the potato quality of this footage

it’s been a loonnngg time since i’ve done anything like this and i already see some stuff i need to go back and tweak but so far so good i think, maybe i will add color and a background if i feel up to it

[mccallhero]

favourite ouat scenes: 80/?

[cryformes-blog]

ironically reading fan fiction on devianart and tumblr as an avid ao3 reader but then realizing they actually have peak writing

[disneyboot]

[impossiblepluto]

Jack strolls into the house, heading immediately for the kitchen, and continuing the animated conversation that occupied the entire drive over. That he was alone in the car and upon entrance has gained an audience doesn't break his stride-- pace or verbal deluge. Mac's a smart guy, he'll pick up the topic and register his opinions-

Within the depths of the fridge, Jack stops short, bumping the back of his head as he quickly backs up, straightening, and staring intently into the living room.

Sitting on the sofa, Mac stares back. 

Jack crosses his arms as the refrigerator door swings closed. "What's wrong?"

Mac's gaze darts around the room as though searching for whatever raised Jack's hackles, before returning to Jack. "What do you mean?"

"Something's wrong." Jack takes a step toward the living room. He too scans the room, though his stare is slower, piercing and precise before lingering on Mac. 

"Something's wrong?" Mac repeats with an air of skepticism.

"Yeah. Why are you repeating me?"

Mac scoffs. "I'm not repeating you." Before Jack can retort, Mac shakes his head and continues. "I'm trying to figure out how you can walk in here, distracted by an argument you were waging against yourself, yet still apparently losing, barely look around and declare that something is wrong.” 

"Oh ho,” Jack leans a shoulder against the wall. “You are good."

"I'm good? Wait. No. I'm still not repeating." Mac squeezes the bridge of his nose. "I am just sitting here."

"Yeah,” Jack’s brow furrows. He straightens, feeling the pieces of the puzzle beginning to come together like he’s that one French detective from the movies Bozer makes them watch, and steps into the living room. “You’re sitting. On the couch."

"That is why I brought it. It's not just for you to sleep on."

"Sitting on the couch like a normal person sits on the couch. Not sprawled across it like a teenager with limbs askew in all directions just begging for back pain and bad posture.” 

Mac snorts but it lacks amusement. He doesn’t rise to the usual ‘tease Jack about getting old’ bait like he normally would. 

“So, you want to tell me what’s up?” Jack sits on the old trunk which doubles as a coffee table. 

"I... " Mac sighs and splices together three or four words under his breath.

Jack squints, tipping one ear closer to Mac, trying to decipher the mangled phrase. “Say again?” 

Looking up, Mac enunciates, "I tweaked my knee."

Jack winces. "Trail running? I told you you need some better shoes if you're gonna be out there jumping over logs and scaling mountains."

"I wasn't trail running." Mac pauses between his words as though each one is painfully eking out.

Jack cants his head.

"I stood up wrong."

Jack's face twitches. He's a government agent, damn it. He's got a better poker face than this.

"Shut up," Mac glowers.

"I'm sorry." Jack swallows his emotions. It’s not amusement. He’s not sure what emotion he would call it, but it’s sure not amusement. He’d never find anything funny about Mac getting injured. If anything, this emotion is concern. “You stood up... wrong?"

“It’s not funny.”

“No. It’s not funny. I’ve been sitting here thinking it’s not funny,” Jack defends himself. 

“You’re smirking.”

“I’m not smirking. I wouldn’t smirk if I heard you got hurt.”

“Even if I hurt myself by standing up weird?” 

“No.” 

“Oh. Thought maybe you’d see this as some sort of payback.”

“You mean for the fifteen years I’ve spent sharing my wisdom with you and you ignore it because you’re young and your joints still work like they’re supposed to and you couldn’t imagine waking up one day and suddenly something as simple as standing up can leave you limping and hobbling around for the rest of the day?” 

“Yeah.”

“Nah.” 

“Oh okay. Thought maybe it would be something like that.” 

“And I could see how you might think that. A less sensitive, empathetic man might.” 

Mac hums. 

“You need an ice pack?” 

“I’ve been thinking about getting one.” Mac sighs, looking toward the kitchen. “Don’t want to try getting up yet though.”

“Do you need a doctor?”

“No.”

Jack eyes him carefully.

“I did think about it-” Mac hurries to continue as Jack stares harder. “I want to wait it out. If I’m wrong you can gloat.” 

“I wouldn’t gloat either.” 

“Right. No smirking. No gloating. Got it. I’ll remind you.” 

Jack stands, knees creaking. “No smirking from over there either.” 

“No smirking.” Mac winces in sympathy at the sound. 

Jack pats Mac’s shoulder as he passes. 

“You were like my age when we met.” 

“Huh, I guess so. About a year older.” Jack grabs an ice pack from the freezer and returns to the living room. 

“I remember thinking you were ancient.” Mac reaches out to accept the proffered ice pack.

“Hey!” Jack withdraws his hand before the exchange is made.  

“At twenty-one you seemed old. Listening to the way you groaned when you got out of the humvee, that seemed a whole lot older than I feel now. Or at least older than I felt this morning.”

Jack nods in concession as he settles on the couch next to Mac and passes over the ice pack. Mac claps it on his knee. With a groan he raises his leg and positions it on a pillow.

“One day you’re able to sit all curled up like a pretzel, and the next you sneeze and can’t turn your neck for three weeks.” 

“I am almost sorry I teased you all these years.”

“Almost?”

“Well, I mean, compared to me you’re still like ancient. I have a few good years of teasing before it comes back to bite me.”

Jack opens his mouth to protest, then purses his lip. “You know, I’d grab that ice pack and run but honestly, watching you try to move that leg makes me hesitant to try it.” 

“It wasn’t fun.”

“Didn’t look like it was. Last thing we need is to explain to Matty how the both of us got taken out getting up from the couch.” 

Mac flops back on the sofa, blond hair splaying against the cushions. He drops his arm across his eyes. “That’s going to be almost as much fun as moving my leg.”

“I don’t envy that.” Jack leans forward with a grunt and scoops up the remote control. “Die Hard?”

Mac shrugs, eyes still covered by his arm. “Might as well. Don’t think I’m moving for a bit.” 

“Yippee-ki-yay.”

[undertakcn]

@wintermulitplied asked:

A box is slid toward Sans, inside is a mix of various treats several things he should hypothetically like, candy, some nice cream and even a bottle of ketchup. But at the top of it all is a note, it reads a very clear message. "I really didn't mean it. Sorry." This was from Frisk, the child behind hidden behind some corner. They....want to talk to Sans but don't really know if he's up for that. Guilt had been eating away at them ever since what happened. // @wintermulitplied

Distantly, he felt a pang of pain in his chest. Which is strange...new. But he doesn't have the willpower to examine anything further.

Instead, he stares at the box from his seat on the couch, tv droning on with some channel or another he'd put on without thinking, mechanically. He knew the kid was close by, and some part of him, logically, knew he needed to do something before they got too in their head about this. Or, well, MORE in their head about it.

So without a word, Sans slowly stood from the couch, bones moving as if every action was dragged down by weights, like his joints were rusted over, and shuffled over to where Frisk was hiding. Some closer, thinking part of him thought he probably looked a little freaky. Some distant, feeling part of him felt he probably should remedy that. Whoops.

He wraps his arms around Frisk, lifting and carrying them to the couch the way a kid with a large teddybear would, and somehow manages to get them both onto the cushions, Frisk held to his chest while dim eyelights stared back out towards the tv.

His smile felt like a weathered, pealing sticker, but he slapped it on anyway.

"s' not your fault, frisk."

That muffled, emotional part of him recoiled. Yeesh, he sounds like garbage. The sharper, methodical part thinks wow, rude. But clears his false throat anyway.

"i knew it wasn't you. not entirely anways. but hearin' it from you...broke somethin' in me i guess. or maybe i'd been like that a long time. but that isn't an excuse to unload on you the way i did. you didn't deserve that. you aren't responsible for the emotions or actions of adults, or anyone else for that matter."

A short pause is filled by Sans idly adjusting the both of them, chin coming to rest on Frisk's head. This was comforting, right? Did he know anymore?

"i'm sorry. for gettin' mad at you, for not helping you, for not being there. for being the unfortunate, unwilling target of my stupid tantrums. it was never that i didn't trust you. you went through hell to set us free, of course we trust you. but, its just that. you went through hell. and you shouldn't have had to. and the fear of you getting hurt again while i'm not there freaked the hell outta me."

Briefly, without his concious input, Sans' arms tightened around Frisk before he remembered himself. How this wasn't about him, didn't deserve to make it about him. Didn't deserve the chance to apologize in the first place.

Stars, why was he here?

"in any case, you didn't do anything wrong, i couldn't do my job to protect you, and thats on me. and us monsters take souls a lot more seriously than humans do, but that doesn't always translate well, huh?"

He tried to make his tone light. It didn't work.

"you're a good kid, frisk. too good for most of us. i'm sorry i made you feel like you weren't."

[molardeer]

we do a little trolling

[daensaism]

Game of Thrones 1x09 - “Baelor” / Once Upon a Time 5x07 “Nimue”

a parallel i just realized

[legacy-of-the-dark-one]

CREAMY GOLD IS REAL!

So yeah their now is a ice cream shop in Mr golds old shop... HERE have a link for the website.

[elders-rps]

[As Yukina was walking through Italy, admiring all the sights it had to offer, she happens to stumble upon a most peculiar person and……what looked to be a stand, something she had as well. She slowly walks over to them, curious to know more about this whole situation.]

-@for-the-future-of-mankind and/or Majima Mod

[???]

...

(Finally, someone new around here. Let's see what they've got.)

*What you believe to be this person's stand dissapears. After a moment, however, you notice your wallet has gone missing and this person has approached you.

[???]

I don't believe I've seen you around before. What's your name?

[askblueandviolet]

MASTER POST

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[cielenruine]

i hear you can lure a mouse outside with cheese 🧀🎄 but she has been. um. scavenging, lately. and she will hoard all of the cheese she can get before scurrying back to her hole

Matthias spots the familiar purple hair and he is immediately grateful for the gloves he's put back on. "Bernadetta, quite some time." He matches her caution as he retrieves two, nay five cheese cubes and offers them out. "A present, for stepping beneath the mistletoe. They're not too big of pieces, but they make delightful snacks." ...now he wanted one...but these were for the mistletoers.... "I hope you enjoy them."

[caliburn-the-sword]

emma made me viscerally uncomfortable from season 3-6 and the reason is because it was like watching a barbarian multiclass as a cleric. like girl stop with the magical energy blasts!! just hit him with your sword!!! punch him in the face!!!!

[tenderments]

🂡 ₊ ༄ ° ˖   @hiredassault   /   STARTER  CALL.

TENSION  CLUNG  TO  THE  AIR  AROUND  THEM.   THE  YOUNG  QUEEN  WAS  SAT  UPON  HER  THRONE,  WATCHING  AS  THE  FALLEN  KNIGHT  WAS  BROUGHT  INTO  THE  ROOM.   she  had  heard  of  him  by  way  of  reputation.   his  aversion  to  those  who  hold  the  crown,  his  perfect  record.   she  needed  someone  like  him,  someone  who  knew  how  to  hit  a  mark,  and  considering  his  ties  to  the  ruler  before  her  family,   she  might  even  be  able  to  trust  him.   “   your  reputation  precedes  you,   ”   she  said  in  lieu  of  a  greeting.   “   that's  not  usually  a  good  thing.   anyway,  i  know  you're  no  longer  interested  in  serving  kings,  but  i  need  your  assistance  with  something.   might  you  make  an  exception  for  a  queen?   ”