#quipe

[plausible-fabulist]

widespread archaeological evidence suggests that many North Americans of this era acknowledged the existence of three genders: "men", "women", and "employees only"

[heartstringgs]

Nora saying Neil would have stayed at the Nest for Jean. Jean and Neil both hating Betsy on sight. Neil and Jean both being sold to a higher family like a commodity. Neil gently taking the phone from Jean's hands and saying'I've got him coach' to Wymack when Jean starts to panic. Neil asking Kevin if Jean was okay when Jeremy called. Jean wishing Neil had stayed just so someone could be with him during the harshest times of his life. Kevin being sure that Neil will be helped by Jean. Neil giving Jean time to get it together when the agents arrived. Neil protecting Jean from his abuser. Jean silently cleaning up Neil's wounds and speaking to him in french when no can hear them. Jean asking Neil to tell him that Riko is truly gone and Neil confirming without a moment of hesitation. Jean and Neil both automatically resorting to saying they're okay—I'm fine, there's nothing to talk about—whenever someone asks them. Neil originally being a backliner just like Jean. Neil telling Jean it's okay to take off the tattoo. Neil reminding Jean he's worth saving. Neil looking over his shoulder out of instinct thinking Jean would be there near him. Neil being Jean's what-if. The 3 to the other's 4. A broken promise. The misplaced forever partners.

[mecachrome]

teammates who definitely hate each other

[newttxt]

happy wano wednesday to all who celebrate!!

[axelledupond]

"Bienvenue à Geisler" - chapitre 3 les Ayhsiries (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1314896293-bienvenue-%C3%A0-geisler-chapitre-3-les-ayhsiries?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=AxelleDupont&wp_originator=sucW2FNgCQGEhpQVF0YovKwZTCerfLtKcI011bfDR1hiySVJlSbmr1sc9ao9iAoaB%2FuOChjhZycewW0XqfapjUlgz6seDrGeva%2BLgvZ3rLMOa2VMMS1JzxzFycrDSJzU "Bien le bonjours visiteur ... vous pouvez m'appeler Axelle" "oh vous vous demander ce qui se passer ici" "c'est la une bien longue histoire, dont je n'ais malheureusement entendu que des rumeur mais prenez place je suis sur que ses braves voyageurs assis en face pourrons vous éclairez " "oh moi, je ne suis que votre humble narratrice dans cette histoire" *** je vous souhaite la bienvenue à Ayhsiore un petit royaume sans histoire vivant de l'agriculture, de la chasse et de la pèche. Mais d'autre royaumes existent aussi derrière ses grandes et sombres forets... mais ne vous inquiétez ici rien ne peut vous faire quoi que ce soit. Ayhsiore est un royaume diviser en sept territoires relier pour permettre un fonctionnement maximal vous avez par exemple le territoire pirates réputer pour leur barbarie mais aussi le conseil qui organise les réunions d'ordres, les forgerons un endroit remplit de garde en formation et les fields les terres agricoles un endroit ou l'aire qui vous remplit les poumons est pure. Bref un petit paradis... Mais que ce passerait il si une personne changeait la donne.... Il n'y a qu'un moyen de le savoir ps cette histoire contient des personnages avec des apparences fantastique mais la magie ou sorcellerie ne seront pas pressentent dans cette histoire. note-> je tiens à m'excuser pour les fautes voir même le vocabulaire je ferais néanmoins de mon mieux pour vous compter cette histoire. l'image utiliser a été importer de pinterest par Gerardo Guerrero

[thehollowwriter]

First of all-

Dramatic af. Drama kids Octotrio canon??? Where are they jumping from???

Second of all

Violence all around with these three

[nibeul]

the 212th chief medical officer, bones ✨

[id: it's a drawing sheet of a 212th Clone Medic with his name, "Bones", written in all caps in the top left. From right to left: in the first drawing, he has one hand on his hip and is looking to the side with a quizzical expression. In the second, he wears his helmet in addition to the rest of his armor and holds a medical bag over one shoulder. In the next, his helmet is off again and he is looking down, looking miffed, and in the last, he is smiling. His armor is the standard phase I and has an orange rib cage painted on the chestplate. /end id]

[faelapis]

crazy seeing rightwing people calling the barbie movie anti-men considering i’m pretty sure the “i’m just ken” song did more good for men’s mental health than any number of their shitty little incel forums combined

[sun-snatcher]

If you're writing for dp3 then Hiraeth from your prompt list would work SO well since they're all stuck in the void! 🤲🏽😭 We need Gambit fics its a DROUGHT HELP

♧ ⎯ LUCK O’ THE DRAW !

summ. You find the Devil himself at the end of the world. Surprisingly, it isn’t the first time you have. It is, however, the first time it hurts. pairing. Void!Gambit x f!Anomaly!reader (established relationship. Kinda. Multiverse be funky like 'dat.) w.count. 1.8k a/n. Because Channing deserved that Gambit all those years ago, and I've come to (attempt to) deliver what the the people have asked. Masterlist here.

MOST PEOPLE MEET THE DEVIL at a crossroads, but you meet yours in— quite literally— the back end of fuckin’ nowhere.

It hurt more than it should.

Your heart practically stutters. 

“Remy.”  

Then he turns, and you wait for the flash of recognition in his eyes.

Nothing comes.

And then. And then.

Realisation— logic. The cold, hard truth: This isn’t your Remy LeBeau. Your Remy had died long before, in a Universe that was pruned and erased into nothingness by the TVA. Your Universe. The joke? That the Gambit before you is merely a variant amongst a million. The punchline? He looks exactly the same as the day you’d lost your own. 

“Well, this is awkward. You know off-shoot Hawkeye here?” Wade says, astonished, before his eyes widened. “Ah. Tragic exposition time for the readers, I see.”

Your mind is still reeling. It feels like someone’s just jammed a chisel straight into your gut. “I— Knew a version. Variant, I guess,” you manage to correct yourself, distracted by the skirting trenchcoat and the all too familiar sound of shuffling cards. 

Christ, it’s like he’d stepped right out of your memories.

Remy’s eyebrows shoot up as he studies you. Something in your chest pulls taut, threatening to snap as he speaks. “Apologies, mon ami. But as far as I remember, I ain’t never seen you before.”

“Ouch,” Wade winces, looking between you both. “What a classic trope! This is like, me talking to my past Mom in The Adam Project. Funnily enough, my Mom was you!” He snorts, pointing to Elektra. 

You ignore Wade and offer Remy a wan smile. “I figured. It’s okay.”

…It is obviously, in fact, not okay. 

You avoid him like a plague shortly after the entire commotion; it’s almost comical. Wade had managed to come up with a plan with the rest of the group, albeit a ramshackle, flimsy one, but you’ve hardly been able to pay attention through the bloodrush of shock rocketing in your head, anyway. 

Being around this Remy is stunningly stifling. 

The lilt of his accent, the sharpness in his smile; the flourishing of cards and the faint hum-drum of kinetic charge against his fingertips. 

You’ve seen it all before, once upon a time. You never thought any of it could ever bring you to this bad of a heel. 

It hadn’t taken long before you’d tried drowning yourself at the end of a bottle of brandy Logan had handed you that night. (The whiskey tames his mordance and makes him uncharacteristically civil. He’d said something along the lines of: Y’need this more than I do, bub; look like you’ve just seen a fuckin’ ghost. Shit, I guess you did, huh? )

“Mais la,” comes a huff. “Ain’t that mine?”

A frisson runs through your heart. 

“Sorry,” you say, barely glancing up from the barrel fire tucked outside the team’s hideout. You’re not quite sure you can handle meeting his gaze. “I know I should’ve asked.”

A playful hum. Remy settles on the log adjacent to yours. “S’alright. No harm done, chèr.”

It takes everything in you not to flinch at the endearment. If he’d noticed, well— he’s smart enough not to mention it. He’s curious and it stands to reason; afterall, he’s never quite seen someone look at him as weathered as the way you do. It’s as if the effort itself to do so would be unbearable.

“Y’kno’, I been told I’m easy on the eyes. Not for you, tho’, eh?” Remy shoots you an amicable smile. It’s charming, if a little compelling. “Guessin’ I made bad on you where y’from? You done been boudéin’ since y’first got here.” 

You let out a laugh. It’s the most brittle sound he’s ever heard come from someone. 

“No, no,” you shake your head. “It’s… You just make me a lil’ homesick, is all.”

Remy bristles with his deck of cards. A Charlier cut; a One-handed shuffle. It’s a mindless tic; your variant used to do the exact same with the exact same ease.

(Such a miracle, you remember thinking once, that there could be symmetries in the Multiverse. Now you learn, perhaps, it’s far more a curse. Either way, you can hear Remy’s doting voice in a distant memory, dimpling coyly at you: “S’just the luck o’ your draw, chèr.” )

You tamp down the memory before it could sink its jowls any deeper in you. 

“You’re curious,” you say.

He makes a noise of assent. Revolution cut; One-handed shuffle. Repeat.

“I ain’t gon’ axe if y’ain’t wanna answer.” 

It’s kind of him. 

You forgot he was like this.

Witty, yet gentlemanly. The way Remy always has been.

Underneath the blanket of the night, the crackle of the flames limn the planes of his face in flickering, hazy saffron. The look in his eyes is sincere as they meet your red-rimmed gaze. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him, and in this light no less: tall, cutting, strong.

Lively.

The last you’d seen Remy, he’d been drawn out and battered by the war. Not that he’d ever admit it; he always insisted on keeping up his sunny disposition despite the constant losing battles happening. (Sometimes you think you resent him for doing that; it’d felt like he’d taken the light of the world with him when—)

You thank your lucky stars the variant Remy doesn’t make a comment on how you must be staring so openly. It’s a feeble attempt to committing every detail to memory, you suppose, in case you don’t get the chance again.

“In my Universe, a war was waging against mutants.” Your nails tinker against the empty bottleneck of the flat whiskey you’d nursed, thinking of how to cut a bloodshed of a story short; to get your point across before you falter and lose your footing.

“There was a mission sanctioned, and during it— a decision had to be made at that moment. So… you chose. Easily.” Your brows pinch tight against your will. The molten burn returns to the back of your eyes. “You saved so many lives the day you died.” 

Something catches in your throat when you realise your mistake, find yourself amending instantly, “He. He died.”

(It had been swift. A small mercy, all things considered. There wasn’t even a need to check for a pulse when you finally managed to reach for him.)

You’re fidgeting, too, with something in your other hand. Remy catches sight of it only now: a card, sitting pinched between your ringed fingers. Nine of Hearts. Its edges are torn and creased across the face, singed an ashen black. 

A proverbial piece of Remy’s heart, carried to the end with you.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a cold rush over his body at the sight. 

“…I’m sorry, chèr,” he offers quietly, inadequate as it is. He hadn’t expected that. 

He can’t imagine how haunting it must be to look at someone you’d shared a lifetime with and be met with a complete stranger instead. 

A living, breathing, ghost.

That unbiddable feeling of longing had always seemed to accompany the sight of him; but now it’s different. Now, there’s a blistering, brutal pain to come with; All-encompassing grief, thick as molasses in your lungs, overturning itself like a phantom from wherever you thought you’d buried it a long time ago. 

The only way to smother it would be to reach out, to hold him like you had once before, and isn’t that an ironic inconvenience? 

“No, no. I’m sorry,” you tell him, sigh coming out as an awkward laugh. A breeze passes and you inhale deep to ground yourself. Press your eyes shut momentarily to will away useless tears. “It must be so weird to hear all of this from me about— well, you, technically.”

“Mais, can’t ‘ave all been a bad memory, tho’, right?”

Right. No. It hadn’t been. There’s something else too. An undercurrent. Beyond the grief, the deep ache in your marrows— you think it’s nostalgia. Hiraeth. More bittersweet than it is painful.

It’s… It’s watching mutant schoolkids teaching him UNO for the first time. It’s the bickering over the beignets for breakfast, or your feet on his lap at the couch in the lounge after dinners with the rest of the X-Men. Lazy banter. Conversations that go everywhere and nowhere.

“Yeah,” you agree, feeling something bloom in your chest you thought long lost. “You taught me everything about your home, too. Down South. Told me about the bayou, the cypress trees. Your Cajun, your ways. We used to play Bourré.”

Talk of home has him ducking into a laugh. Remy had been in the Void far longer than the rest (he figures, at least)— he’s very nearly lost most of his fragmented memories to time by now. “Did I? Oughta’ play a game or two wit’ you.”

You buckle at that. “Ah. You were always the better player.”

Then:

He makes the leap before he runs out of steam. “Was we…?”

His finger darts between the space you two share.

“Oh, no,” you override, sheepishly. “No, we, we were good friends and stayed good friends. I was—” Your breath scurries; a reconsideration. “I was glad with that. You had a Southern belle named Anna Marie. A powerful mutant called Rogue. You two were good for each other.”

You must have given yourself away somewhere, though, the way Remy is reading you with a pinned gaze. It’s the same, levelled look you’ve seen before— the kind he gets in a game of cards. 

Something discerning eclipses in his eyes.

He’d gotten the measure of you in an instant. 

“Gambit musta’ been blind blind not t’see you.”

Ah.

You smile. It’s windswept. Resigned. “Well. Doesn’t matter now, does it? My Gambit’s gone. No matter how much I wish I can see him again.”

Remy’s eyes dart to your hands.

“Y’kno’, chèr,” he begins, something spirited in his tone. “In the world of cards, each a’ these and they suits hold a meanin’.”

He flourishes his deck, hypnotisingly smooth with every elegant cut, fan and spring. Every shuffle cascades as smooth as liquid in the sleight of his hands.

“Some of my folks back in New Orleans I remember, they learned me to read ‘em. Now, outta the whole deck? What you got there; the Nine of Hearts is also called the Wish card.”

The small laugh that punches out of you is bell-like. “Really?” 

It’s warm. Bright. Musical to his ears. It washes over him, and he can’t help but hang on to the peal. He wanted to hear it again. 

“Yes, Ma’am.” Remy clicks his tongue as he shoots you a sunny look. “Would never lie t’you, chèr.”

The cracks in your soul don’t disappear, but they surely lighten as you look gently at him. “Huh. Well, I guess I got my wish, didn’t I?” 

He chuckles. 

“Mais, I ain’t your Gambit but—” 

He leans. Reaches out behind your ear with an empty palm, playfully revealing a gilded card from seemingly thin air with a sharp flick of his wrist:

Another Nine of Hearts. His. He hands it over to you, by way of meaning—  I’m here, now.

New beginnings.

You take the card with a smile.

[quail-in-red]

more fem drarry because i like drawing mean girls

[bovivinator]

Re-listened to TAZ Balance recently and I’m still in awe that Griffin McElroy somehow managed to introduce a “long-lost twin of protagonist who had selective amnesia about them” character so late in the story, so successfully that she not only featured in some of the most thrilling and emotional moments of the series, but immediately became wildly popular and caused most of the fanbase to spontaneously develop crushes on her

[heartstringgs]

[vikingknight90]

appreciation for Miles' laughing/teasing expression when he asks Miguel "Dude, are you sure you're even Spider-Man?"

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

Imagine asking Alastor to glow in the dark because you can't find your way to the bathroom at night 🤣🤣🤣

You tripping on a root: "Ouch... Alastor...?"

Alastor (half asleep): "Mmmm?"

You: "I can't see... And I need the toilet badly... Can you... Do the thing please...?"

Alastor sighs, but opens his eyes, a rush of power making his eyes glow red and the rest of himself glows green, illuminating the room.

You: "Thanks..."

Alastor: "You're welcome Dear... Now hurry up."

You go to scuttle off.

You: "Oh and Al?"

Alastor's smile strains, You can see his glowing teeth.

Alastor: "Yes Dearest?"

You: "Love you."

Alastor's eyes and smile softens.

Alastor: "I love you too, my Heart, do please hurry up... I'm awake now and you're in need of punishment it seems."

You giggle and hurry along, You love disturbing his nights like that... It's why you always drink a litre of water before bedtime.

A/N: Yes Alastor is now a nightlight 🤣

[vegehana-food]

✿ キペ | Quipe ・押し麦の生地の真ん中にひき肉が入っているものを揚げたおやつ。麦の食感が感じられますし、ひき肉にはハーブなどでしっかりと味がついているので満足感もあります。お店によって味が異なり、中の具材も様々な種類があります。茶色くてひし形のような形をしていて、食べ歩きにも最適の大きさです。 ・アラビア語のKibbehに由来してしていて、19世紀に中東からドミニカ共和国に移住してきた人たちが持ち込んだようです。

[thehollowwriter]

I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM HE'S MY BABY MY CHUBBY BOI I WANNA HUG HIM HE'S SQUISHY MY SQUISHY SCRUNKLY PLS CROWLEY GET HIM MORE NOODLES KEEP HIM HAPPY HE'S THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE CJFKDKDFJFKFJFJF REEEEE