#stumpy's sisters

[piglinmyfeet]

Tbh I was more disturbed by Mumbo's actual thumb than the fact he used it to shift in that video..

This is totally irrational and I'm fairly certain that mumbos thumb is completely average, however normal thumbs disturb me, they're just too long.

[randomnessunlimitedblog]

Do you think that the Kaeloo characters are stupid or insane

Stupid: Quack-Quack, Violasse

Insane: Mr. Cat, Pretty, Olaf, Poucave

Both: Kaeloo, Stumpy, Nombril

Neither: Shitty, Eugly, Ardoise, Lavanade, Cramoisie, Vitamine

[invisiblewashboard]

Small Child’s Thoughts on “Helm’s Deep”

Sounds like there are way too many bad guys.

Are they happy because the king is there? Hm. Because the king will help them fight the bad guys? I feel happy when my dad comes home because he helps me fight my sisters.

I think you should maybe not listen to someone named Wormtongue. But maybe it’s not his fault that he’s named that. Maybe his mom and dad just didn’t like him.

Mom, can I have a horn to make horn blasts with? (No.) But I would only use for good things, like to tell you if there was danger!

The van? If they have vans they can have trains. (No, no, Small Child, that means “vanguard.”) Hm. That is boring. They should have a van instead.

Gimli wants to kill lots of orcs and that is very good. I like that.

Hundreds and hundreds more bad guys is not a good thing.

Lightning plus bad guys is going to equal a very bad time for everyone.

I just do not really know what is happening. You are reading lots of words but I am confused. I only know there are orcs and lightning.

Why did Legolas spend all his arrows? (Because that’s what happens in a battle.) Well, he should have just brought more with him.

I tried to jump off a wall once. And you told me it was bad. But Gimli did it and you said it was good.

Wow! 21 is a lot of orcs! Good job, Gimli. You’re doing very good work!

Two dozen? (A dozen is 12, so how many is two dozen?) Oh, I see. 24! Legolas is winning now. Who is going to get more points? I do not want to wait to find out, I would just like you to tell me now. (Just be patient! You will find out soon enough.)

How many orcs did Aragorn kill? (I don’t know, I don’t think he is playing the game with Legolas and Gimli.) Why? He should play and not ruin the fun.

So, Mama? Blasting fire is like a bomb, right? Like a big explosion? I think if they have that, they can maybe have trains soon. Trains would make things easier because they could go places fast.

Saying his spear was long seems just so unnecessary. Spears are long. That is why they are spears and not just little stumpy stabbers.

Is that Gandalf the White Rider? Good. I think things will be okay now if he is here.

Hey Mom? You told me that if I was patient I would find out who got more points. But you stopped reading and I still do not know.

[pfctipper]

ABOVE: Captain Andrew Haldane [left] instructs Lieutenant Thomas 'Stumpy' Stanley in the use of the Garand M1 semi-automatic rifle | BELOW: Extracts from letters printed in Bill Sloan, Brotherhood of Heroes: The Marines at Peleliu (2005)

V-mail to Bowdoin College President Kenneth Sills, Brisbane, 6 January 1943: ‘At present, I am taking a back seat & it seems good to get a night's sleep now & then. Gosh I wish I could tell you more but I'm afraid I might make some slight infraction of the regulations which is very serious.'

Letter to his sister Janet, Melbourne, 31 January 1943: ‘The women here are very fast. They are big gals & they can handle themselves very well. These girls remind me a great deal of the American girls. The other night I met a shop welder and she had bigger arms than mine. Some of the boys come back with the weirdest takes. One of my men took out a wrestler & she wasn't bad at all. What a life.’

Letter to Sills, New Guinea, 29 November 1943: 'I've often thought of what I could do after this war game is over and I've come to the conclusion that I would much rather be a civilian. It won't be long now for press reports as you know are very encouraging.'

Letter to former Bowdoin College football coach Adam Walsh, following the Cape Gloucester campaign: 'I can sincerely say your instruction and guiding ways have helped me greatly in this task I have of leading men.'

Letter to Sills, Pavuvu, 25 July 1944: 'This next one [the Peleliu campaign] is going to be a peach. Woe is me!'

Letter to his high school sweetheart Phyllis Stowell, aboard LST-661, 5 September 1944: ‘We are at sea again en-route to another enemy stronghold [Peleliu]. This letter will not go out until after we hit our objective but at least you know that I gave you thought on the way up ... Don't ever worry about me Phyllis for I'll be O.K. Just remember that I can't go wrong because after this blitz I'm coming back so wish me luck. I'll need it.’

[nikethestatue]

Happy birthday to my bestie, my mate, my Elriel sister @tswaney17

I wouldn't have joined this fandom without her. So if anything, blame her! Jokes aside, I hope you have a marvelous year and meet your own stranger in the night. Please enjoy!

One shot

Summary: Elain Archeron is celebrating her birthday and happens to meet an enigmatic and mysterious stranger who upends her world

She smoothed her black bodysuit over her hips, though it wasn’t wrinkled and then tousled her hair, in what she hoped, was sexy, beachy curls.  

Anyone else would’ve told her that she looked great—well put together, elegant, and not trying too hard. But to her self-critical eye, she saw a slew of imperfections. Hips too wide, breasts too large, stumpy fingers...She could stand here all night and critique herself, but what would be the point? It was what it was, right? Some part of her though, liked what stared back. The black bodysuit hugged her in all the right places, and paired with strappy golden heels and some delicate gold jewelry, she looked...nice. Not quite her 31 years old. Her friends always said that she was a ‘young 30’. She looked about 24. But inside, there were days when she felt 78.  

Oh well. Time to go. That’s not to say that she didn’t want to back out of her solo restaurant trip about 25 times today. Internally, she’s been telling herself that she is too busy, too tired, too poor, and that staying in with a bottle of wine and pizza would be just fine. Another part of her wanted to get out. Even if she looked like a loser, dining alone. At least it was a Wednesday night—not the weekend—so she could theoretically make up a story of being on a business trip. Not that anyone’s going to ask. But she needed that security blanket for herself: “I am eating alone, because I am here on business’. Yeah, that sounded legit. She was a successful, professional woman, determined and confident, and she was on business in Chicago.  

She grabbed her clutch and headed out.  

It was a warm evening by Chicago standards. The middle of April could be blustery or it could be blistering. You never knew. Tonight was lovely, actually. Trees were in full bloom—white, pink, yellow, assertive red, purple, even blue—bursting in flowers of every shape and size along the streets of her neighbourhood.  

Beatrice was a quint restaurant in Fulton Market. Or as ‘quaint’ as a restaurant could be in the bustling, hipster corner of the city. She only knew it because she’d come here before with her stylish, popular co-worker, Morrigan. She recalled how Mor wore a pristine baby blue bodysuit, sky-high heels, and a sparkling silver belt studded with glittery gemstones. Mor’s hair was a waterfall of golden blonde, which cascaded sensually down her back. Her skin was flawless. Her makeup was perfection, and her nails the right shade of pearl. When they were seated, all the girls in the party immediately rattled off a list of things they didn’t eat, were allergic to, and ‘avoided’. Mor announced that she was ‘celiac’ in a tone that implied that obviously she was celiac! And then proceeded to order bread. When the waiter told her that bread has gluten, Mor said that ‘she was allowed to today’.  

Back then, she’d ordered something called the Straight ‘A’ Salad, not wanting to tuck into something juicy and fatty in front of everyone. It ended up being empty and unsatisfying. But she still wanted to go back there, because the other items on the menu looked good, the vibe was nice and not overwhelming, and the drinks were inventive. If nothing else, she’d get her full in alcohol. 

“Follow me, Miss,” the hostess beckoned her and she scurried quickly between tables, wanting to be seated as soon as possible. 

It was nice. The table was by the wall, and she could see inside the restaurant and out the window. She laid her clutch on the table and exhaled. She was here. She was in her place, in her chair.  

She made it. 

“Are we celebrating anything tonight, Miss?” the waiter asked, when he approached with the menu. 

“Oh no,” she laughed, “I am on a business trip.” 

“And do you have any allergies?” 

“No!” she stated decisively. No. She is going to eat what she wanted. No faux allergies for her. 

The drinks menu looked a bit intimidating. Lots of things with Mezcal and Elderflower and words like ‘smoked’ and ‘hibiscus ginger kombucha’. After discreetly googling what kombucha was, she gagged and decided on a Lemond Drop. Safe and sound. 

The waiter wasn’t exactly impressed by her choice, but she didn’t care. Instead, she ordered Cheddar Popovers with bacon butter, and green chili queso for appetizers. It harkened back to her California upbringing, where things were less formal, the food less complicated, and the loneliness less acute. She suddenly and desperately missed her sisters, who lived back home. She missed the sun, tacos, trips to Sacramento and the simpler life she had back home.  

Sighing, she sipped her cocktail and looked around. It was fairly bustling, couples and friends chatting animatedly, drinking their complicated drinks and laughing. But...she felt okay. Not amazing, but okay. It was peaceful.  

It felt peaceful until her eyes fell on a singular, solitaire figure of a man, who sat at the bar, with a drink in front of him. The reason she even paid attention to him was because he was literally breathtakingly beautiful. So handsome, her breath stalled in her chest. Big. So goddamn big, it felt like he was sucking the air into the vortex of a black hole that he’d created just by simply...being. He sat, unmoving, in a sharply cut suit and a white shirt, unbuttoned at his neck. The other reason why she looked at him was because he was staring back at her. Big, bold, unflinching stare. Those incredible, luminescent eyes almost glared at her, and she wished she’d know what colour they were. The man’s face remained impassive, but he continued staring, even once she’s averted her eyes and squirmed in her seat. And now, all she could feel was his stare, following her every move. It was suddenly hot, and she felt her nipples pop like tiny Whack-A-Moles beneath her bodysuit. Served her right for not wearing a bra! Jesus Mary and Joseph. Well, her evening was ruined just like that. Instead of being at peace with her lemon drop and her popovers, she was not being scorched by the gaze of this absurdly handsome man, and all she wanted to do was look his way and see if he was still looking at her. While she didn’t want him to be looking at her. But she wanted to make sure that he was. Oh, god. What. The. Hell. 

She was on the verge of fanning herself, before realising that she’d be looking like she was having hot flashes, and it was too early for that. Her nipples were hard as bullets and she was forced to cover her breasts with her folded arms, just to maintain some sense of decorum. As she ‘busied’ herself with her drink, she snuck a momentary glance at the man. He was still there, but no longer looking at her. Instead, he was on his phone, and a deep sense of regret and longing washed over her at once. 

He was interested in her for 23 seconds.  

That was it. 

But she supposed that for the most handsome man in the world to take notice of her for 23 seconds was sufficient enough. 

“Miss, your popovers,” the waiter stepped up to the table, placing one plate down in front of her, and then the other, “and queso. Please be careful, it’s hot.” 

The food looked fine, but somehow, she no longer felt particularly hungry. She wasn’t sure if it was because the man was no longer looking at her, or because he was looking at her before. Did she want him to look at her? No. No, she didn’t. He was entirely outside her comfort zone, with his piercing gaze and his unnaturally good looks and he was definitely a player, so there was no need for all of this.  

On her birthday, all she wanted was peace and quiet. She didn’t need smouldering men giving her the death stare. Instead, she forced herself to concentrate on her food. The popovers were light and fluffy and crispy on the outside, and the bacon butter was to die for. Sinful, but so, so good. 

She sunk into her seat, enjoying her cocktail and alternating between the popovers and then the rich, spicy queso. She was still deciding on the main course—penne with spicy vodka sauce? Slow cooked short rib?  

“Miss,” 

Her contemplation was interrupted by the waiter, who was holding a drink. 

“From the gentleman at the bar,” he said and placed the drink in front of her. 

Her mouth fell open. Whaaat... 

Timidly, she allowed her eyes to travel to the bar and sure enough, there he was. Staring. A small, secret smile touched his beautiful mouth and he inclined his head just a bit. She didn’t exactly know how to act in these situations. Was she supposed to drink the drink that he sent? Invite him over? Go over there herself? Ignore him like a total douche? 

Okay, first things first. She raised the pretty coupe glass to her lips and tentatively sipped the drink. Sour and smokey, with a touch of sweetness and heavy on lemon flavour, this was definitely a whiskey drink. And she didn’t like whiskey. But for some reason, she really liked this. She took another sip, a bolder one, and then glanced at the man. He was smiling, as he watched her drink, and when she swallowed, he winked at her. Approving? Enjoying watching her? Smug? Pleased? She wasn’t sure. But she... 

“Ready to order, Miss?” the waiter was back, and she absently said ‘fish tacos’ which isn’t what she even wanted, but she was too scrambled to come up with a better idea. “Very good,” the waiter chirped, and before he disappeared, she said, “can you ask the gentleman who bought the drink to join me?” 

Her throat was dry. Her underarms were sweaty. 

WHAT was she doing?? 

She never did anything like this before? Inviting strange men to eat with her? Never! 

“If he wants to,” she added quickly and the waiter nodded.  

God, please say no. Please. Please god, let him say no. I don’t want it. I don’t. 

There he was. Moving through the restaurant like the Angel of Death. Dark and tall and slim and muscular. Jesus. He was actually coming over! Oh. No. Nononononono. 

And then he was standing at her table, how own drink in hand. 

“I wasn’t sure if Whiskey Sour was the way to go,” he said—his deep, dark, raspy voice matching his appearance to a tee. "But it looks like I did well.” 

She swallowed hard and then muttered, “Is that what it is?” 

Yep, it sounded lame even to her own ears. 

“Indeed,” he confirmed. “First time?” 

Somehow, this made her blush. A simple question, and a correct assumption, but for some reason, it was laced with innuendo. 

Their eyes finally locked.  

Hazel. His eyes are a gorgeous greenish amber colour, spectacular like the rest of him. 

He took a sip of his drink and slowly dragged the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, swiping the droplet and that made her even sweatier than she was before. Soon she was going to be sweating like a sumo wrestler—which of course is the most enticing look a woman could sport.  

“No, I’ve had it before,” she finally managed to answer. 

He smirked a knowing smile. 

“Have you?”  

As he was looming over her and attracting way too much attention from the females of the species, and even some males, she all but ordered him, “you can sit down!” 

He smiled again, that smooth, secret smile, saying, “I thought you’d never ask”. 

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she just watched him in silence as he slid onto a chair across from her.  

“Thanks for the drink,” feeling awfully uncomfortable, knowing she was not great at small talk, and completely out of depth with this man, she thought that this was all a pretty bad idea. What was supposed to have been a quiet and nice evening alone, was turning into...well, she wasn’t sure what it was turning into, but it was something.  

“You aren’t waiting for anyone, are you?” he asked, sounding curious. “I wouldn’t need to fight a boyfriend or something...I mean, I’ll win, but,” 

She huffed, and snorted a laugh. 

“So confident?” 

He shrugged, “pretty confident”. After a pause, he pressed, “so?” 

“No,” she blushed despite her best efforts to appear cool. “I am here alone. On a business trip,” she lied smoothly, grateful for having this little nugget in her pocket.  

He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, lounging comfortably. Suddenly, he said,  

“Nope. Try again.” 

Startled, she glowered at him, not knowing what he meant. All the while, as she squirmed in confusion, he casually drank his whiskey, watching her closely. 

“What,” she brought her glass to her lips and took a generous swig of the drink, “what do you mean?” 

“Only that you are not being exactly truthful,” he shrugged, and then grabbed a popover and swallowed the whole thing easily. “You aren’t here on any business trip.” 

“What?!” she exclaimed with indignation. “Excuse me! How do you know? What do you mean?” 

His eyes slowly slid over her bare arms, her chest, her neck, and again, she blushed like a fool, but there was no stopping her body’s reaction to this strange man. 

He was...enigmatic.  

“A beautiful woman like you, wearing something so elegant and understated,” 

Understated? Did he mean boring? 

“is not in Chicago on any business trip. So, that makes me think—if you aren’t waiting for anyone, and you are dressed up, then you must be,” he cocked his head, considering, “celebrating something? A new job? A birthday?” 

Most of his words rolled right over her head, because all she heard was ‘a beautiful woman like you’. He thought that she was beautiful? He? HE thought that?  

“What?” she asked dumbly. 

He chuckled, amused. “You are a little naughty liar, is what I am saying,” 

“You can’t call me that!” 

“Then don’t lie to me.” 

She bubbled her lips and finished her drink. Finished already? Shit. 

He noticed it too and motioned for the waiter.  

“Another drink for the lady,” he ordered. “And I’ll take another whiskey. And,” he thought for a moment and added, “bring us a bottle of champagne.” He looked at her and asked, “what are you eating?” 

“I think I ordered fish tacos,” she recalled, watching him in confusion.  

“Want to eat them?” 

“I dunno.” 

“Mind if I cancel them and order us steaks?” 

“Uhh...okay?” 

He did just that, telling the waiter that he’d pay for the tacos as well.  

Who the hell was this guy? He flicked his fingers and just got whatever he wanted. The waiter didn’t even question him! ‘Of course, sir’ ‘Whatever you want, sit’ ‘Right away, sir’.  

“So, is it your birthday?” he asked once the waiter ran to fetch the drinks. Literally, ran.  

“No.” 

His brows knitted together and he pursed his lips. 

Something about him and his look made goose bumps rise on her skin and she shifted under the table, crossing her legs. This guy and his unbelievable dominating bossiness were both scary, but also highly sexual. She knew that she was a bit of a submissive at heart, but that was mostly because she read way too many omegaverse books. But now, she was faced with a true Alpha. When they spoke of an Alpha Male, she suddenly became aware that she was in the presence of one. He wasn’t just tall, dark and handsome—even if he was a walking cliche with all of these attributes. But it was his undeniable, almost God-given natural dominance and superiority that she found so fascinating. And yes, so appealing as well.  

“It’s not your birthday?” he repeated. 

“N-no,” she bleated pathetically. 

He didn’t respond immediately, but only drummed his fingers on the table, and she noticed that his hands were scarred. Rather extensively. Burns, from what she could tell. Jesus. How did he get these? And both hands, too.  

“Lie to me again, and I will take you over my knees and spank that perfect bottom until you beg for mercy,” he warned, his voice impassive, his face unchanged.  

Her mouth dropped open and she thought that she was going to slide under the table and dissolve into a puddle. 

Was she supposed to cause a scene and slap him? Was she supposed to storm out of the restaurant? How does one reacted to being threatened by a spanking by a complete stranger? 

Also, he thought that her ass was ‘perfect’? 

“Let’s start anew, beautiful girl,” he proposed then, while she made silent gasping noises like a dying fish. 

The waiter arrived just then, and only that prevented her from fainting or screaming out loud. He popped the champagne bottle with flourish and poured both of them a measure, while also setting their cocktails down before them. 

“Don’t come back until the food is ready,” the stranger warned the waiter and the man nodded and left without saying a word. 

“What is your name?” 

She swallowed, but remembering his warning, she decided to go with the truth this time. 

“Elain.” 

“Gorgeous name,” he approved. “It suits you. I am Azriel.” 

“Azriel,” an exotic name for an exotic man. “Nice to meet you. I think?” she ventured and extended her hand to him. 

“Pleasure is certainly all mine,” he said, squeezing her hand in his huge, warm, powerful palm, watching her with strange, almost palatable hunger. “Whether you’ll receive pleasure from me or not remains to be seen,” he decided vaguely and she bit her lip, sensing that innuendo again and not knowing how to deal with it. 

The one time a guy was instantly interested in her, and he is a dangerous weirdo. Figures. Just her luck. 

He raised his glass and said, “Happy birthday, Elain! I hope it’s wonderful to you.” 

“Thank you. That remains to be seen, I think,” she said softly and they touched their glasses. She sucked the champagne quickly, and with a sense of foreboding and some kind of desperation. She had no idea where this was going, or what he wanted from her. But she wanted it to continue. At least for the duration of this dinner. 

“What do you do?” he inquired, dipping a chip into the queso, but instead of eating it, he held it out to her. She looked around, in some kind of futile hope that someone would save her from this, but there was no one. Only this stunning, somewhat insane man, who was feeding her chips and dip. 

“Come on, beautiful Elain. Open up,” he urged soft, his voice smooth and husky and so tempting.  

Numb, and only driven by the sound of that sensual voice, she opened her mouth and he gently pushed the chip inside. As she pulled it between her teeth, he brushed his finger over her lower lip and then brought it to his mouth and sucked. 

“More?” he whispered and then concluded, “more.” 

He dipped another chip and fed it to her again. 

“So?” 

“I am in marketing,” she answered, knowing in advance that hers was the most uninspiring answer in history. But she was more preoccupied by the fact that she was being fed chips by a strange man in the middle of a restaurant. 

“And you live in the city?” he asked further. “Please don’t even start with the whole ‘I am here on business’.” 

She sighed and admitted, “Fine, I am from the suburbs. But I work in the city. What do you do?” 

He didn’t seem too thrilled about her question and took his time eating the last of the popovers. 

“Do you really want to know?” he asked finally. 

“Yes, of course. Why not?” 

“You might not like it.” 

“Why wouldn’t I? What do you do? Kill people?” she joked. 

He smiled at her, but the smile was less of a smile, and more just a stretch of his lips. The smile didn’t reach his eyes 

“And if I am?” he wondered at last. 

She frowned and then it dawned on her and she laughed, “what? You kill people?” 

“Maybe.” 

A shiver ran down her spine and she gawked at him in shock. Until she dissolved in a flurry of laughs. 

“You had me there for a sec!” she wiggled her finger at him. “A+ for a perfect deadpan delivery! I am impressed.” 

He didn’t seem to be laughing, but he added, “but they were all bad”. 

She stopped laughing and nervously shifted in her seat. 

“Wait. What?” 

“You wanted to know what I did for a living,” he reminded her. 

As she processed his words, he just sat there, watching her intently. 

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed at last, realisation dawning on her, “it’s a scam, right?! You are one of those guys who pretends to be an assassin, or a millionaire, or in the CIA and then I fall for it, and in two months you’ll start asking me for money and I blow all my savings on you and then never hear from you again.” 

Shaking her head in disbelief she grabbed her napkin and then said, “thank you for the drink, Mr. Azriel. But I am not stupid. I appreciate the gesture—the razzle dazzle—but let’s part ways right here so that no one leaves here too traumatised.” 

He listened to her impassively and in the next moment, the waiter arrived with their steaks.  

She was hungry and upset, but she knew that she couldn’t stay here any longer and remain in his company. The whole thing was too bizarre and she didn’t want to get in trouble. And this man was clearly trouble. Or maybe troubled. Or both. 

“Azriel, I am,” 

“Sit,” he ordered, though his tone was soft. “You are safe with me. Don’t worry. But you did ask me what I did for a living,” he insisted again. 

“Well, when I did ask you, I didn’t expect for you to tell me that you are some kind of a killer!” she snapped, her voice rising. 

“I’d rather you didn’t yell,” he requested. “However, I wanted to tell you,” 

“Why?!” she exclaimed. “Don’t killers usually try and keep their profession,” she made a quotation mark sign with her fingers, “a secret?” 

“Normally, yes,” he agreed. “But, I want you to trust me and I felt that being honest is the best way to earn that trust.” 

“Trust me? Why? And,” 

“Because I want you,” he interrupted her and his tone was blunt, but calm. 

“Wha,” 

“I want you,” he repeated. “I saw you and you...well, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And now, I am obsessed with the idea of learning what you’d look like when I enter you. What sounds you’d make when you come on my tongue.” 

At that, the big steak knife fell out of her trembling fingers and she wondered if she was having some kind of out of body experience. An ‘episode’? She wasn’t prone to episodes, but hell, there was a first time for everything, right? 

He shrugged, and continued like this was a perfectly sane conversation they were having, “Sorry if this is a bit unorthodox,” 

An understatement of the century! 

“However, I am not one to mince words,” 

Another understatement of the century. 

“And when I want something, I go after it. And right now, I want you.” 

She made a gurgling sound, but he ignored it, then cut into his steak, and chewed slowly.  

“However, you don’t strike me as someone who sleeps around or who is used to the type of man I am,” 

Was any woman? 

“Therefore, I wanted to build a baseline of trust between us. Like I said, you have nothing to fear from me. I am simply a man, interested in a woman.” 

He was anything but, but okay. 

“So,” she finally found her voice which was lost somewhere in the bottom of her stomach, “telling me you are an assassin is your way of establishing a baseline of trust?” 

He looked at her hand, which was clutching a butter knife, her knuckles white, and smiled faintly. 

“I suppose so.” 

She reached for the bottle of champagne, but her hands were shaking so badly, she could barely grasp it. Smoothly, he took the bottle and topped off her glass. This was probably the worst idea—to continue drinking—but she couldn't think of anything else. 

“Why don’t you relax and eat,” he suggested. “The steak is cooked perfectly.” 

“I don’t think I am hungry.” 

“Nonsense. Lay down your weapon of choice, dig into your dish and relax a bit. Have fun. It's your birthday!” 

He then raised his glass and mused, ‘what should we toast to?” 

“Me remaining sane after this dinner,” she muttered under her breath. 

He laughed.  

“How about ‘to the future’? Because tomorrow with you is worth every yesterday I spent without you,” he said and she almost choked.  

He couldn’t be for real.  

No man talked like that. Ever. 

“Listen, I know I could a little blunt, but in my line of work, I have to move quickly and I typically don’t get many second chances. And I don’t want to miss my chance with you,” he drank his champagne and watched her attempt to concentrate on her steak. “And when I said that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, I am being honest. I saw you across the restaurant and you kind of blew my mind. It happens, you know,” 

“No, it doesn’t,” she argued. “Only in romance novels.” 

“Okay,” he shrugged, “so we have a romance novel beginning, so what?” 

“It’s not real,” she insisted.  

“Well, while you think on that, tell me when I can kiss you, because I’d really, really would like to kiss you right now,” 

“Never!” she shrieked. “Stop talking like that!” 

She desperately needed him to stop talking. Stop using that sensual, deep baritone to say deliciously sinful things to her. Because if he continued, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. She kept trying to shield her breasts from him, since her nipples were achingly sharp, threatening to poke through the top of her body suit. And between her legs—disaster. She was flooded. Every glance at his strong, powerful hands made her wonder what they’d feel like between her thighs. What his soft lips would taste like if he did get that kiss from her. And every word he said just made her wetter and wetter. She feared she’d have a stain on her clothes once she got up from her seat, and the thought alone was mortifying.  

“I think you should let me kiss you,” he insisted, watching her intently. 

“No, I am not kissing you!” 

God, this steak was good!  

“How about this then,” he proposed slowly, “I scoot closer to you, and you let me play with your clit, while you eat, and then you come all over my hand. I pay the bill and we go to my place and I’ll continue making you come. Because all I want to do right now is kiss every inch of your porcelain skin, and fuck your soft, lovely mouth and watch my dick disappear between those rosy lips. And then you’ll come on my dick in your perfect pussy and ask for more, while screaming my name. And if you let me, I’ll fuck that gorgeous ass as well and will make you come from that as well. And then you’ll sleep in my arms and in the morning, we’ll go get breakfast.” 

She watched him in dull astonishment, her brain failing to work properly as she attempted to process his words.  

This really couldn’t be real. At all. No man, in the history of mankind, ever said words like these to a woman.  

Yes, he just sat there, with her perfect face and his perfect body, and waited. 

“And then you’ll go and kill some people at work?” was all she managed to say to his explicit monologue.  

She’s never been fucked anywhere, let alone her ass. So yeah. 

“Well, not at work. For work,” he corrected. 

“Uh uh,” she sighed. “And you are okay with me knowing about that then?” 

“Like I told you, I want you to trust me.” 

“Uh uh,” she sighed again. Then she set her napkin aside and told him calmly, 

“Azriel, it certainly has been an interesting evening. I thank you. I am not sure I’ll ever forget it, or you, but...I don’t think that I am the girl you need,” 

“All me to decide that,” he argued sharply. 

She chewed the inside of her cheek, before clarifying, “I suppose I choose not to be that girl for you.” 

“Why?” 

“I like my boring little life. It suits me. And you...you don’t suit me or my life.” 

She couldn’t even believe her own assertiveness. She was rarely like this.  

“It’s unfortunate,” he said sadly. “Forgive me if I offended you,” 

“Astonished, more like,” 

“Better than offended.” 

She got up from her chair and her knees felt soft and shaky, and for the first time she understood what ‘jelly legs’ were. She had jelly legs because of him.  

“Thank you for dinner. I better be going.” 

“I’d like to walk you to your car,” he offered. 

“I think it’s a bad idea. Besides, I am getting an Uber. I drank too much. Goodbye, Azriel.” 

She rushed out of the restaurant and onto the bustling Fulton Market, where there were hundreds of people milling around. Her fingers trembling, she got her phone out of her clutch and pressed the Uber button on the verge of hysteria now. She didn’t know where she was going even, so she pressed ‘home’ even though she knew this Uber would host like $60 at least. But she needed to get away. Away from here, away from him, away from making a bad decision. Very bad, terrible decision that she was yearning to make right now. 

3 minutes. 

3 minutes. 

Okay, she just needed to make it for 3 minutes out here, until the car came. 

She glanced at the phone frantically, over and over again, watching the little car move along the street diagram. 

Suddenly, a familiar scarred hand reached over her shoulder and grabbed her phone.  

“Wait! Give it back!” she demanded desperately. 

Azriel smiled at her and then typed something in her phone.  

“Now you have my number.” 

A text chimed, and he added, “and I have yours”. 

“We’ll never see each other again,” she promised. 

“We’ll see,” he said simply. 

Finally, Honda Civic! Blue! There she was!  

She bounced on her heels impatiently, hoping he wouldn’t do anything, and yet hoping that he would at the same time. 

Ugh. 

“Goodbye, Azriel,” she said again. 

He opened the door for her politely and before she folded herself into the car, he pressed his lips to the top of her head. 

“Happy birthday, beautiful. I’ll see you later.” 

-

Azriel ‘The Shadow’ Night had two problems on his hands. 

As he watched the Honda weave in and out of busy traffic, he lit a cigarette—an occasional bad habit of his—and inhaled deeply. 

Nothing that he told her was a lie. 

He did find her to be incredibly beautiful. And his attraction to her was instant and hit him like an avalanche. He’d never felt anything remotely like this before. He wanted her with every fiber of his being and know, innately, that their paths were crossed forever and for a reason. 

The only omission in his tale was that their meeting was not accidental. And that she was the target, who was his current assignment.  

Now, he needed to figure out how to murder her, while keeping her alive. 

[themotherofhorses]

omg vic imagine aemond that really wants to go home but realizes how happy and safe his sweet wife is in the modern world so he just embraces his househusband lifestyle and accepts his new life with his son🥹

pairing: aemond targaryen x modern!wife!reader

jla masterlist

Aemond stands by the window, rocking silently as he eyed the last bits of sunlight vanishing behind a row of sharp-peaked rooftops. It is tiny moments like this that make him miss his mother and sister and kid brother.

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera too, he thinks glumly. His sweet niece and nephew, always so delighted to see him. And Vhagar. His stomach tightens at the memory of them all, feeling like heavy rocks sinking deep within his belly.

He tries not to think about it. But it is all in stupid vain; he dreams of home almost every hour he lays abed, of the Red Keep and the sprawling hills and the vast, bright-blue skies.

"When you are ready to come home, my prince, all that is needed is to prick your finger- just enough for a droplet to fall.”

Aemond thinks about the rivers woman's words a lot. Sometimes his hand tingles with the strongest urge to unsheath his sword and slice his palm, just enough for Alys Rivers to feel.

He would bring his woman home- their son as well, and cloak her in all the riches across the realm.

I'll bring her home, and we will live in the Keep. She'll have a good hot meal and wine every night, and my mother will meet her grandson.

He turns from the window, gazing down at the wife kneeling on the living room floor with their babe. In her hand is a green dragon, one she named Vhagar, in honor of his mount, saying that it would be the closest thing to an egg. She waves it around Aemion's plump face.

Her hair hangs about her pretty face, and the smile on her lips is warm. Aemond feels himself falling in love with her again. He watches as Aemion grabs at the dragon with stumpy fingers, cradling it against his chest with big, violet eyes.

His lady's smile widens, and he feels his own heart flutter inside his breast.

It makes him want to kiss her, to carry her to their bedchamber, to fling her onto the bed, to make her heavy with his child again. He loves her so fucking much.

She is safer in her world (the healed scar across her lower belly is proof of that) and much happier too. He sees the way she lights up every time her mother or Aemion's aunt visits, excited to flaunt her son around. She easily rivals the sun. Isn't that all a good husband could wish for?

Aemond loves his home, in truth, and his family too, but he loves his lady wife more. Where she stays, he shall remain.

notes: his wifey totally orders the jellycat green fuddlewuddle dragon plushie. idc it's def canon.

[silverhart-makes-art]

This week's Bestiary Posting I had an idea for the composition before I knew what the creature was going to look like, which was just a bird-thing with big feet looking up at the stars. So I sketched that first and then sort of found the creature along the way.

The Hraetnug is described as having wings but is unable to fly. So my thought went to flightless birds, like the kiwi and the penguin. Since it's described as laying eggs in the sand I thought it might be a shorebird, so I decided to take inspiration from the extinct Great auk, but I was also thinking about non-avian dinosaurs while drawing (for no other reason than I had a dino show on while drawing), particularly Deinocheirus, and the lovely silhouette of their head seemed like something fun and unique to incorporate. Coloring wasn't really based on any bird in particular, but of course they have to have a classic black and white found in the auk family.

Fun piece to work on. Ah, to be a hraetnug, gazing at the stars, digging in the sand, and never having to put up with any kids. Truly living the dream. I especially like how her stubby little wings look. She's trying so hard to look majestic, with her fat little tummy and her stumpy wings and goofy beak. I love this dumb imaginary bird.

Can't say how accurate my rendition of the Pleiades is, but I looked at some photos, and I know they are the Seven Sisters, so tried to make sure I got at least seven in there. I also looked up when they're visible in June which is around dawn, so I tried to reflect that in my piece with just a hint of sunlight peeking over the horizon. Alas, astronomy is not my strong suit - I blame light pollution. That is one thing I really envy about people in the past - they could just look up at the night sky and see all the stars they wanted. They even knew what time of year it was or how to navigate based on them! I certainly can't do that. It makes me feel kind of dumb in comparison. But at least I can enjoy drawing this silly bird living out my star-gazing dreams.

[grandiosetirade]

First time drawing in digital The Rule and Stumpy sisters !!

( btw i had ideas for them in SU au , i really need to design them )

[istumpysk]

OPERATION ICEBERG: THE TIER LIST

THEORY:

Asha's pregnant

TIER:

Possible: These theories could be true, but additional evidence is needed, as different interpretations or errors are possible.

[Tier list overview.]

EVIDENCE:

The first time we meet Asha (Esgred), she makes an unusual remark.

"Poor lordling." She released him and stepped back. "As it happens, I'm a woman wed, and new with child." - Theon II, ACOK

Asha shows off her axe and dagger.

Theon had time for a choked gasp before Asha snatched the axe from the air and slammed it down into the table, splitting his trencher in two and splattering his mantle with drippings. "There's my lord husband." His sister reached down inside her gown and drew a dirk from between her breasts. "And here's my sweet suckling babe." - Theon II, ACOK

Later in the story, Asha (symbolically?) loses her axe and dagger during a moment of passion.

"I'd sooner fuck you." One quick slash unlaced her jerkin. Asha reached for her axe, but Qarl dropped his knife and caught her wrist, twisting back her arm until the weapon fell from her fingers. - The Wayward Bride, ADWD

x

When she slipped back beneath the furs, Qarl was asleep. "Now your life is mine. Where did I put my dagger?" Asha pressed herself against his back and slid her arms about him. - The Wayward Bride, ADWD

Asha is quickly captured by Stannis, leaving her no opportunity to brew the moon tea.

Her breasts were sore, and Qarl's seed was trickling down her thigh. She would need to brew some moon tea or risk bringing another kraken into the world. What does it matter? My father's dead, my mother's dying, my brother's being flayed, and there's naught that I can do about any of it. And I'm married. Wedded and bedded … though not by the same man. - The Wayward Bride, ADWD

At a minimum, Asha has been with Stannis for 32 days (it's much longer than that), and there has been no mention of her menstrual cycle.

On the twenty-sixth day of the fifteen-day march, the last of the vegetables was consumed. On the thirty-second day, the last of the grain and fodder. Asha wondered how long a man could live on raw, half-frozen horse meat. - The King's Prize, ADWD

Out of the blue, the formidable fighter and mother, Alysane Mormont, cautions Asha about waiting too long to start a family.

"Aye." Alysane stared at Asha for a moment. "I have a son. He's only two. My daughter's nine." "You started young." "Too young. But better that than wait too late." A stab at me, Asha thought, but let it be. "You are wed." "No. My children were fathered by a bear." Alysane smiled. Her teeth were crooked, but there was something ingratiating about that smile. "Mormont women are skinchangers. We turn into bears and find mates in the woods. Everyone knows." Asha smiled back. "Mormont women are all fighters too." - The King's Prize, ADWD

The author prevents Asha from having more than a sip.

Ser Justin found them places on the bench and fetched supper for the both of them—ale and chunks of horsemeat, charred black outside and red within. Asha took a sip of ale and fell upon the horse flesh. […] Broken quick as that, thought Asha. My champion is made of suet. Even so, Ser Justin was one of the few who might object should the queen's men try to burn her. So she rose to her feet, donned her own cloak, and followed him out into the blizzard. - The Sacrifice, ADWD

[If there's any evidence I've overlooked, please bring it to my attention.]

STUMPY'S THOUGHTS:

This is like knowing someone is guilty, but having only circumstantial evidence.

VOTE:

I welcome discussions. Feel free to reblog, respond, or challenge my perspective — I won't be offended by any of it.

Please note, if "no" is the eventual winner (or it's close), there will be a second poll to determine the proper location.

NEXT THEORY:

Daario Naharis = Euron Greyjoy

[fairy-verse]

I don't know if my inbox just straight up ate this ask, or if I accidentally deleted it, but luckily I'm smart and save all the questions in a word document when I answer them, so hah! I still got it.

If you want more in-depth descriptions of the different races, then please send individual asks for them.

evethepoptwist asked:

What do season fairies work for like what do they harvesting for, what do they make for their own little inventions and crafts, or how do they take care of animals by their own ways, depending on each seasons other than singing, dancing, laughter, etc. And can you tell us more about trolls, flower people, and mushroom people, and what do they do for the living? Since we barely know these guys other than talking so much about season fairies and the big folks

It is important to remember that the fairies mostly just create and work for the fun of it. Once they’ve made anything they require to survive for the seasons they do not belong to, then they’re free to just craft and create things that they love. They will harvest whatever food they can find within their respective season, and oftentimes trade with each other should they desire anything that belongs to the other seasons.

The animals care for themselves, but some fairies will take extra care in aiding them through life to ensure their survival, though it all depends on how much they love said animal. Most of the time, they will simply flutter around them and bring them as much luck as possible. Fairies possess an extra amount of luck compared to other beings, after all!

The trolls are night-dwelling creatures that hide in caves, holes, and makeshift homes that they create out of fallen trees, moss, sticks, and mud. Sunlight will turn them to stone, which is a painful process that cannot be undone. They prefer deer, moose, and rabbits as food, but have acquired a taste for humans, too. Fairies are mostly seen as tasty sweets to them. They have been known to create clothes and weapons, and they can speak to each other, though this is through grunts and growls. Most of the time, they fight amongst themselves and prefer solitude to companionship.

The flower people were born from the magic of the Luna tree on the Isle of Luna, and from said tree, they are granted immortality. They rarely leave the island, as what often happens to those that do so, is that they fall in love and will inevitably be cursed with heartache for eternity. They are the same size as fairies, and legend has it that they’re all blessed with the ability to communicate and manipulate the nature around them. No one fully knows what they do on the island, as no one has been able to cross the mist surrounding it.

The mushroom people are essentially just mushrooms with stumpy legs and arms that wander the forest floors. They will squeak, though no one yet knows if this is a form of communication or not. Sometimes, they may sit for hours and days without doing anything. They are popular pets among the fairies, especially the spring and autumn fairies.

There are also:

The Stonemen will appear as boulders, rubble, and mountains when asleep. The sleeping sisters are believed to be Stonemen who fell into a deep slumber many hundred years ago, and some think they will cause havoc once they awake again. This theory hasn’t yet been confirmed. Stonemen in general are peaceful and stationary, though when awake, they have been observed to find pleasure in watching fairies play together.

The small people/monsters look just like the big folk, only the size of fairies. They live in holed out trees and tiny houses on the forest floor. There are not that many of them on Fairy Island, as they’re not native there. They’ll live simple lives, preparing for winter, sewing clothes, creating fun projects they can play with, and sometimes even trading with fairies.

Gnomes are odd winter creatures that have their eyes hidden by pointy hats in the colour of either, red, blue, or green. They live in holes in the ground, though said homes look very cozy, often with a fireplace, a place for a kitchen, a big bed for the whole family, and such. They only come out once the snow lays thickly on the ground, and then they’ll collect sticks, frozen berries, and other trinkets they can find on the ground. Very little is known about them, though they’ll sometimes trade with the winter fairies.

Monster fairies can often be found close to Big Folk villages, and sometimes even in them. They like to settle within their attics for warmth, though there are still those who prefer to live in the forest away from them. Most can be found in Willoway Forest, though there are those who live in the Singing and Kval hills. They often steal food and clothes from the Big Folk. These fairies are the ones that look like variants of Papyrus, Toriel, Asgore, Temmie, esc…

Human fairies/Fae are in small numbers and can only be found within Ink’s domain, as he is the father of their race. They have blacked-out eyes and silvery blue wings, and they should never, under any circumstance, be trusted to make a deal with. Luckily, it’s difficult and extremely rare to ever meet with any of them.

[cotton-could]

Why most fans hate Pretty and think she sucks

I have seen some of her fans claiming her haters are holier than thou fake fans who hate ONLY her. But it's not because we feel morally superior, hence, we like a show full of jerks who treat each other like dirt! But why most fans hate Pretty? What's the difference between her and the other characters?

1) She never gets punished for anything

One of the biggest reasons why we hate her is because of how much of a karma houdini she is. She pressed many of Kaeloo's berserk button (hurting an animal, bullying people, do questionable actions to Mr Cat, etc...) and she wasn't even punished for it and the only time she was, Kaeloo felt bad about it and said "maybe we were too harsh on her 🥺" instead of saying she deserved it but ohh, Kaeloo has no problem to tell Stumpy or Mr Cat they deserved to be beaten/punished for actions that were not as bad as Pretty's

2) She makes Kaeloo an even bigger doormat than Kaeloo already is

In S1, Kaeloo was not afraid to put her foot down and be cruel, wether or not it was necessary but doesn't use that same energy on that rotten spoiled brat (Pretty). Why Kaeloo suddenly doesn't use her jerkass behavior on Pretty? What's so special about her? She can't fight without Eugly making the dirty work, doesn't have amazing powers like Kaeloo nor is super smart. Kaeloo acted like a jerk to EUGLY of all people, the only character who was never a jerk to her but can't defend herself againt Pretty nor bully her back? What kind of double standard is that?

3) No matter what she does, she gets support

When Pretty bullies the main four unprovoked, she gets an undeserved round of applause by her supporters (from the show). When she bullies her sister, nobody does nothing about it or laugh at Eugly with her. When Pretty SA Mr Cat, Kaeloo doesn't flinch. When Pretty excluded Kaeloo from her party and humilliated her, instead of giving a well deserved punishment (being excluded and alone) she gets underservingly and easily forgiven by her victim but if it were Mr Cat, Kaeloo would transform into Bad K and beat him.

4) She gets special treatment

Eugly protects and defends her no matter what, gets away with everything (and the times she's punished, it's unsatosfying or she drags the other characters with her), can be a jerk to QQ without being punched by Eugly nor Bad K, everybody likes her, is good at everything she does and so on... she's a creator's pet.

5) She's hard to sympathize

For being such a jerkass who gets away with everything, it's easy to understand why most people don't care about her problems.

[nightly-ruse]

I had this idea of OneFire hypoparent versions of Squilf and Leaf and couldn’t not do it so here they are!

Pretty much at the start of tnp little Ploverpaw and Squirrelpaw are separated across borders taken by each of their dads, Ploverpool with Onestar and Squirrelcurl with Firestar. To finally stop the constant fights from Windclan as Onestar wanted one of his daughters. Ended up with a whole au for them that I actually really love.

Beware long au explanation of the two

Squirrelcurl

Small curly cat so full of energy it’s like she’s got the wind in her heart. With more of her father Onewhisker’s stripes but a warmer tone and shape like her papa Fireheart she’s very torn with her loyalties. While she does have the spirit for the moor she was very easily divided with her papa because of her coat, height, and stumpy legs. And while she does love Fire a lot she sometimes wishes her and Plover could’ve been raised closer together. Does not get along with her father Onestar much the two butting heads harshly and with differing opinions very quickly getting into fights.

She does not get with Bramble but instead with Crowfeather after they got close over the journey, meeting him more under the guise of visiting her sister. The two were close and said they’d run away together! Find a place where all can love with no borders tearing them apart! Until it all crumpled as Squirrel couldn’t leave all her family and friends behind and Crow started to find he didn’t like the true fire in her heart. They split harshly breaking both cats hearts in a massive fight, running back to their own clans. Except Squirrelcurl was expecting his kittens and she’d have no way to explain them away.

Squirrelcurl makes a plan with her sister who is also expecting and they leave with Mothwing and Nightcloud to have the litters under a guise of a vision. She has Starlingkit and Ravenkit who she knows she cannot keep, they look far too much like their father to ever stay. On the way back she gives the two to Nightcloud who promises to love them for her, deciding to rename them Hollykit and Breezekit for their parentage of the forest and the moors.

Eventually after the secrets revealed by Hollyscratch and Breezecloud she makes amends with both her kittens, and finds she loves Nightcloud with the two becoming mates once she divorces Bramblestep.

Ploverpool

Tall curly and powerful their was no hiding the clear mix of blood in Ploverpool’s pelt she was a very mixed cat. Having Firestar’s pattern, ears, and strong paws but Onestar’s coat, eyes, curl, tail, and height she was clear from her birth where she came from. But with her height and slight fear of shadows she was kept by her father Onewhisker, having to watch her sister walk away. Very early on she found a solution, if she was a healer she could travel across borders and see anyone she wanted! And learn the secrets most cats can’t even touch. As such she was trained under Barkface.

She does find love across borders, right by a little flowing creek. A cat much like her in statue such just beauty it struck her speechless she had to know her. And then at her first moonpool meeting to see just the cat saunter up she fell head over paws. Plover and Moth fall in love, using the excuse of their healer duties to hang out often having Squirrel or Nightcloud tag along with them. They thought nothing bad could come from this as long as no one found out. Until someone did. Plover knew someone had seen them when she found a moth wing and thorn snuck in her nest. Paranoia seeping into her pelt.

Plover realizes she’s expecting just a few nights after her sister came to her telling her similar news. They make a plan to all leave with Mothwing and Nightcloud in case anything were to happen, have the kittens in secret and figure out what to do after. She has three beautiful bundles of fur. Fritillarykit, Jaykit, and Tadpolekit. Sadly as they travel back Tadpole becomes too weak and passes away, buried just between the River and Wind borders by their mothers. Fritillarykit is kept by Mothwing and Jaykit is taken by Squirrelcurl who could easily pass the little pale kitten as her own.

When the secrets revealed Ploverpool finally breaks and moves to Riverclan to be with her mate and eventually raise their second litter of Dandelionkit, Hawkkit, Sparkkit, and Alderkit. Fritillaryblaze ends up also following his moms across the border to be with his new family, Jaydream crossing over often as well.

[just-jayy]

Everyone is so quick to bash Pretty for her s2 behaviors, but I don't understand how everyone looks past s1 + s2 and the absolute atrocities the main four have done. Why aren't they held to the same standard? Why is just Pretty being shit on when everyone else has done far much worse?

I'm sorry, but did

we watch

the same

show?

"It's just a cartoon", that it is, but there's a line that gets blurred when it comes to fiction and reality, especially in cartoons. Cartoons can get away with a lot worse than reality, and because they can do this, it can blur the line between what is okay and what isn't. This is plainly evident in season 1 because these jokes are played as just that-- jokes. Same with the examples from season 2, they're just played as jokes.

If the showwriters wanted to show more serious side to all of this, they would have and they would've done it respectfully. Beautiful Words, Chat Perdu, Tout Se Dire, Sleep Train, Investigative Journalists, and Kousinade shows that they can 1000% handle weighty topics with respect. If they REALLY wanted to show that Pretty's ridiculous personality from s2 was serious, they would've written MC's reactions with the similar intensity as they did with his mom saying his name in Avec Poucave. Pretty is tame compared to the main four. You can't be holier than thou when the characters you love are worse than the one everyone despises.

Kaeloo knows how to emotionally manipulate people, willingly or unwillingly. She doesn't understand the difference between what is okay and what isn't in terms of love or romance.

Mr. Cat is a psychopath who comes from a troubled childhood who consistently mutilates, blows up, and beats Quack Quack. He OWNS WEAPONS LIKE BAZOOKAS. JUST CASUALLY. He frequently would touch Kaeloo without her consent, try to force himself on her, try to kiss her when she doesn't want it, and always grabs her ass.

Stumpy was literally so stupid that he was willing to try any advice to give him the upper hand, even if it was freakish behavior like kissing Kae, sneaking dollar bills under her, or even going as far as to wanting to off himself if things didn't go his way. Not to mention-- Stumpy has shown to have thoughts of infidelity. He always used to flirt with Pretty, and that's because he's the stereotypical boy trope and she is the opposite.

Quack Quack has a yogurt addiction that is quite literally an analogy for drug addiction and is willing to lie to his girlfriend and treat her like garbage for his fix.

I'm not excusing that scene because it is a bit too far, but so was Let's Play House, that, to me, was way too far in comparison. Pretty's entire character is: being a crazed fangirl. She's a creepy stalker who loves the generic hot boy of the show while being the most insufferable type of person. That's the entire stereotype. But she also loves her sister and doesn't let anyone bully her (other than herself of course), she's a feminist, she's an activist who is really trying to better herself. She loosened up as the series goes on and hasn't done nearly as bad as MC's attempted r-pe, Kaeloo forcing kisses on MC, QQ's addiction, or Stumpy's cheating.

TL;DR: it's a cartoon. it isn't that deep.

[askbensolo]

Had a hard time falling asleep last night. I was thinking about my family and feeling disconnected from them and not knowing whether that was what I wanted or not.

I thought about how much Fannie cares about her mom and her sisters. How they seem to occupy her thoughts most of the time.

And I thought about Poe and his droid. Even if I don’t think droid sentience is real, his love for that stumpy metal snowman sure is. I wonder if he’s had some kind of loss in his life that makes Beebee-Ate so important to him.

And I thought about me, and how sometimes I don’t know if I really love anyone but myself. Like...sure, of course I love my family. But do I actually love them? I do a pretty bad job of showing it...

Lying alone in the dark, I started to get the creeping, haunting feeling that loss was coming for me someday. It came for my mother, and it came for Uncle Luke, and it came for Rey. One day it would be my turn to lose somebody, and I had no way of knowing how, or where, or when.

When I finally did fall asleep, I dreamt I was on the Falcon, looking for my family. But the ship that I normally know like the back of my hand was like a shifting, ever-changing maze, and, worst of all, horrifically silent...

[fsanalikesart]

I want Eugly back so we can actually get a satisfying conclusion to all those loose threads the writers left us. They made her become friends with Mr. Cat and Stumpy. They showed us that her relationship with Quack-Quack was struggling because of his addiction. They showed us that she was learning to stand up for herself.

And then they fucking got rid of her.

I will die on this hill: Eugly should have replaced Shitty in every episode that she was in in season 5. The friendships with the main four would have made sense. The character having an arc about finding her identity after her sister left her would have made tons more sense for someone who constantly lived in her sister's shadow. Eugly already had the same personality as Shitty except quieter and with a shorter temper, both of which I love her for.

Eugly deserved better.

[georgi-girl]

More Trolls Character Fusions

A continuation of my SU inspired Trolls fusion list. Note that when two trolls from the same tribe fuse, they just become a bigger version of their species. When trolls from different tribes fuse, they gain extra limbs and appendages.  

Biggie + Cooper = Big C. A fluffy, muppetesque llama centaur. with four stumpy legs, long furry midsection, and extendible arms. Covered in blue fur with indigo dreadlocks. Always smiling and making jokes. Uses he/him pronouns.  Song style is based on Tiny Tim and Weird Al Yankovic. 

Poppy + Viva = Star. I hope this isn’t presumptuous, but I’m seeing them as friends. The fusion has dark pink skin, star-shaped orange hair, and a white leotard with a blue tutu. Also has stockings with dance slippers. Partly inspired by Rainbow Quartz. Voiced by Selena Lopez. Uses she/her pronouns.  

Reggaeton Trio (Tresillo, Marimba, Tambora) = Taino. Named after the Indigenous people of Puerto Rico. Androgynous features, Pastel body with tie-dye patterns. Uses they/them pronouns. Speaks mostly in Spanish. 

K-Pop Sisters = Korea. Inspired by the five Ruby fusion. Big, shiny, with pastel rainbow hair and an all-white leotard. Uses she/they pronouns. Speaks mostly in Korean. 

Branch + Hickory = Brick. Incredibly handsome, with four arms, green skin and dark violet hair styled in a cowlick. Wears a vest made from orange leaves and black pants. Uses he/they pronouns. Music style based on early Elvis. Also sounds like Elvis. 

Branch + Barb = Screech. (This fusion is strictly platonic, I wouldn’t ship these two if you paid me.) Dark blue skin, four eyes, gigantic indigo mohawk. Wears black leather jeans and denim vest. Inspired by the SU fusion Sugalite. Uses the pronoun It. Warlike berserker. Song styling is Goth Rock. 

Barb + Hickory = Studly. (I can picture these two as friends) Goat centaur with light orange skin, shaggy red hair that covers his eyes, and two left arms. Wears a brown vest and studded wristbands. Hunky stud. Uses he/they pronouns. Very Tarzan-like, even speaks in third person. Grows more savage the longer they’re fused.  Song style (surprisingly) is Tibetan Throat Singing

Hickory + Poppy + Branch = Blum. Something special for my favorite ship. Named after the German word for Flower. Beautiful deer centaur with brown skin, CYM streaked hair, three yellow eyes with pink petal eyelashes. Uses neopronouns ee/em/eir. Very kind and loving. Speaks in rhyme. Song styling is folk covers.