#strong pass for me

[gunsatthaphan]

so We Are is gonna have 16 episodes,,,,,

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Unsolved Mysteries.

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[dykealloy]

whatever. fem law be upon ye

[cloudsofteeth]

She always knows just what to say.. she’s a good noodle

(*´ー｀*) and stressed out Bimet is very funny to me

[surreal-duck]

es rarepair week 2024 day 1 | AU/future

lil ghostic au of mine!!! yuzuru and the rest of fine are long since trapped souls in an abandoned mansion of which rst come across while looking for shelter during a storm :] it doesnt um. particularly end well

[ryllen]

maybe i do want us to kiss a little more

[queerasian]

nothing you ever see about succession will prepare you for the way jeremy strong’s acting will gradually then irrevocably grab hold of your heart and soul and evoke emotions in you that you didn’t even know were there

[pendwelling]

TWSB Hogwarts AU!

Inspired by my AU fic on ao3!

[eatyourmaker]

Pssst

Would you draw mr clown making a balloon animal for a terrified jack?

Sensitivity training for Jack's trigger happy ass

Also—

This brings up a memory for me. I might draw it as these two cause it fits

[dkettchen]

I've determined that my relationship to groups of straight men is I'm like a cute little monkey that can do tricks for them (ex. at a party at uni one time one of the guys brought like a 5kg(?) dumbbell from his room and had me try n lift it with my tiny E-based spaghetti arms, and when I labourously managed to they all cheered), or like- when I wanna say smth, they'll shush their other lads like "yo, shut up, the monkey's gonna talk! I wanna hear what it has to say!", like they don't sexualise me (cause issa monkey) but they're still endeared to me (cause is tiny and cute)

like you know those capuchin monkeys that people put in little outfits, that's what lads see when they look at me

it's giving freak show (affectionate) a little bit, but I think straight men not being interested in me while still being nice to me is possibly the best nonbinary deal I coulda gotten out of this

[too-many-lavellans]

Tevhal Mahariel

Dalish Hunter, Hero of Ferelden Ranger

[sskk-manifesto]

He's got such a main character design

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Advanced Hall Monitor Technique: Go To Detention

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[pettyprocrastination]

thinking about how as Aemond’s wife you are the model of perfection. 

Your back is straight as you curtsy when you first meet him and hair neatly braided with fine jewels. Your voice is even and never waivers as you speak to him of your family and how grateful they are for this union. 

You are intelligent and beautiful, the perfect wife. 

It’s why Aemond hardly ever spends time with you. 

He bears no ill will toward you, of course. There is no resentment or hatred to his lady wife, but there are no fond feelings either. 

He knows of courting and romance, his mother taught him everything from a young age. The poor woman would hold her son’s hands tight and explain that a man must not only respect his wife, but truly cherish her. Love her in the eyes of gods and men. As he grew older he noticed the way his father would wave off her constant advice and concerns until the dreaded night where she was the only one defending him after he lost his eye.

But practice was one thing. When you were nothing but a concept. A figment of Aemond’s imagination when he was ten and marriage was only spoken of during his lessons. Before he lost his eye. Before he heard the ladies of the court whispering about his mutilation and before he watched a whore flinch at the sight of his scarring when Aegon dragged him to a brothel on his thirteenth name day. 

He learned then that no matter how much he would love and worship his wife, it would not be returned. 

Rather than attempt to force it (he was no brute and had no intentions of doing something so cruel) he simply let you be by yourself. 

Yes you were married. You sat by one another at every meal and formal event and on the rare occasion he would even ask for your hand in a dance. But Aemond’s affections toward you were few and far to find. 

But there were moments. 

Where his icy facade would weaken and you found yourself able to slip through the cracks. 

Alicent had told you of his “moments” when the engagement had been announced. The queen herself taking you by the hand as you walked through the garden and explaining gently of Aemond’s condition. 

“There are times where he feels a great deal of pain because of the-” She paused, chewing on her cheek while trying to find the most inoffensive way to describe the tragedy that befell her son. “-incident he had as a child.” 

You knew enough of it. Many rumors flew through court the day Aemond targaryen walked in with a patch on his eye after Laenor Velaryan’s funeral at driftmark. Some day it was from a sparring incident, others say it was a mark he bore from the first time he mounted the mighty vhaegar. Others say that the Rouge Prince Daemon Targaryen himself gave it to his younger cousin after crude words were exchanged behind closed doors. 

You didn’t know what was the truth. Aside from the day the princeling got his scar, was the same he got his dragon.

A fair trade, some would say. 

But they didn’t live with the attacks he did. 

Nerve damage, is what the maester’s called it when you asked them for more information. His wound may have healed years prior but the prince would continue to live his life with constant bouts of mind-numbing pain brought on by the slightest touch or too sharp of a wind to his cheek. 

“Senseless fits.” Aegon called it. When he heard about your curiosity about his brother’s condition he had all but cornered you late at night in the hall. “Anything will set him off and send him throwing a tantrum like a belligerent child. It’s quite entertaining.” 

But there’s a moment where the elder brother frowns and you see a shred of concern in his eyes. 

“He doesn’t like to be touched during those moments. It makes the pain worse. So if you’re trying to find some way to comfort him I’d recommend you do something else.” 

What was ‘something else’ you learned, was simply being there. 

Sitting by his side when he curled into himself, trembling fingers reaching out to grab yours and not complaining when his nails dig into the palm of your hand as he cries out in pain. When his breath evens out and the pain subsides, he crawls to you and presses his face to the crook of your neck. He’s far too tired to cover the gnarled scar covering the side of his face but you show no fear or disgust at the sight of it. Your fingers run through his hair, gently combing back the silver tresses and ignoring the tears that stain the shoulder of your gown. 

The next morning your husband would wake in your arms and takes a moment to watch your peaceful expression and the way the morning sun kisses your skin. 

That day Alicent notices her son sits closer to you at breakfast, speaking softly to you of something she cannot understand. But when she sees his hand reach out and grasp yours, she smiles. 

[lunarharp]

shirahama-sensei reminded me she has a thing for the teacher from pokemon s/v so i randomly went off on an au where qifrey is the professor. etc

[puppyeared]

its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously