#your queue matters

[probablygayattorneys]

keep cool down in the quiet of the morning sweat blood when the sun comes through thick mist on the pond before the temple headed down for the final rendezvous

(training montage, the mountain goats)

[zappedbyzabka]

[puns-and-musicals]

I headcanon that Ford’s eyesight is really quite abysmal which makes getting his hair cut a huge problem. On top of being an inconvenience and a waste of his precious time, he’s giving complete control over to a stranger for the entire duration, Long story short, Stan got pretty good at cutting hair, before he was kicked out.

When Mabel finds out she insists he cuts her hair, and when he gives in he does surprisingly well, topping it off with a headband of her choice, of course.

Dipper absolutely refuses to let Stan anywhere near him with a set of scissors, which is fair enough all things considered.

During his time through the portal, Ford cuts his own hair when it gets too unruly but never quite gets the hang of it. He spends 30 years on the run in dimensions of varying levels of hostility where the idea of letting someone hold a blade to his head is foolish at best.

When they leave on the Stan-o-War II, Stan packs his clippers and a cheap pair of barber scissors. He isn’t really sure why, but it feels important, somehow.

[danishphoner]

personal lyric analysis series (2/?): there’d better be a mirrorball - arctic monkeys

[natimiles]

[d4rk-squibl00m]

I have forgotten how powerful fan creations like fanfic and fanart can be and how they bring life to fandom spaces.

I wrote a stupid silly fic as a dare from some friends like half a month ago, and it has managed to spawn a niche fan community for a specific source that either didn't have it before or was practically dead. The funny part is that I'm not that into the source the fic is based on, I only watched some vids to have the basic dynamics and built from there.

In a way I regret deleting my old ao3 account and the fics tied to it, who knows where they'd be now...

[thevirgodoll]

i truly find so much peace curating my dreamy doll world exactly the way i want it. it’s literally so exciting visualizing the life you deserve and making those plans to let it come to life. like when you realize nobody can dictate the way you live your life, it’s a wrap. this is MY vision!!!

always create the things you wish to see & let people watch on the sidelines when it’s all said and done. it all falls into place eventually.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

If, or when a friend...

Judges you for enjoying/not enjoying a character the "right way"

Constantly belittles, mocks or insults a character you enjoy in a way that is not meant to be teasing or sarcastic

And does not afford you the same courtesy of reserving or preventing themselves from speaking negatively of a character you enjoy, but they do not...

Then they are probably not your friend. Or at least, a very good one.

And if a "friend" ever tries to FORBID you from enjoying, talking about, or even passively liking a character? They are DEFINETLY not someone you should want to be friends with. Life is far too short, and you should love yourself enough to not put up with cop-like behavior from someone who claims to be your "friend".

It does not matter how much older or younger they are than you. It does not matter how long the two of you have been friends. When someone tries to police how you enjoy things, you should take a serious look within yourself and decide if you would find yourself happier if you no longer had to deal with that kind of bullshit.

Because that's what it is.

And on a similar, shorter note, if someone ever tries to apply their self-chosen cut-off point of what they consider "canon" to YOU: tell them they have no right to police you like that.

And the sooner you do it, the better. Trust me on that.

Never give someone the ability to determine what is canon FOR you.

[writing-for-life]

Dream—Jon J Muth

[therighthandofvengeance]

[daily-hanamura]

[resolutepath]

Jaskier's longest standing love is that which he holds for Geralt because it is not frivolous, but rather ingrained into his very soul, penned in his words, sung in his lyrics, hidden in his actions. It permeates all he does for the man he calls friend and so it remains. It is not a romantic love nor does he intend to make it so because he does not believe that is what Geralt needs from him. His friendship is what was needed, a man to look at a Witcher and feel no fear nor sense of chasing something exotic, but a keen ear to listen to stories and a chattering comfort of a voice to fill the long silences. A companion for the road and a friend to pen missives to across the continent when their paths diverge.

[daybreakrising]

@resolutepath: Brushing their hand lightly against the other's as they talk. ( Neuvillette & Wriothesley )

He could listen to Neuvillette talk until the end of time. Not only because that soft, deep voice could be likened to the music of the waves, a sound he has become so accustomed to and so fond of in his years beneath the surface, but because everything he talks of is inherently interesting to listen to. Yes, even when he delves into the intricacies of water, a topic he has discovered is far more expansive than he would ever have thought. Thankfully, today's discussion is not another lesson on the minute differences in water from Liyue or Natlan, but instead a matter that he has his own pointed interest in: the Melusines.

They sit in a quiet corner of the Merusea Village, a space they have occupied once before, not so long ago – with a rather more serious topic of discussion. The air, much like the conversation, feels lighter this time around, and he is certainly much more at peace. He picks idly at the fruit delivered to them by the eager Melusines who fussed over them when they first arrived, leaning comfortably against the cool rock walls as he listens, and he watches. Neuvillette always becomes more animated when he speaks of things that matter to him and there is little that matters more to him than the Melusines – his face comes alive as he talks of their culture, his voice filled with love and pride as he discusses how far they have come since first integrating into Fontaine society. For a man normally so stoic and reserved in the public eye, Wriothesley considers it a true treat to be allowed to see him in this way. To witness the protective layers peel away to reveal the person beneath.

He interjects now and then, of course, to offer comments or ask questions – this is a conversation, after all, and he is always happy to learn more about Sigewinne's people. What he has not already learned from her, he learns now from the one many in Fontaine once people to be their… king? Leader? Father? He knows Neuvillette is no Melusine, but he also knows the man sees himself as a father to every Melusine that lives. A man with a hundred daughters, he thinks with amusement, a smile settling easily onto his face.

It seems almost strange to think that only weeks prior they had been on such rocky ground in their… relationship? (Could it be defined as such?) It is still far from smooth now, but at least they are moving in the right direction at last. If he is honest, it is a great relief to be sitting here now, in this peaceful comfort, side by side with him. He had believed there would no future for them, that they were doomed to a fleeting glimpse of potential and nothing more. The ache in his heart still lingers yet, but it is fading, soothed by private smiles and those awkward, formal letters he has become increasingly fond of.

He shifts in place, one hand reaching almost tentatively for Neuvillette's where it rests atop his knee. It is a reflection of that last encounter here – Neuvillette had reached for him, then, and so now it is his turn to do the reaching. His fingertips skim lightly across the back of his hand, briefly wondering what the skin would feel like beneath those gloves. Would it feel warm, or cooler, like the water he holds command over? Would it be soft, or calloused like his own?

His fingers curl next around Neuvillette's, his grip gentle but confident. He keeps his gaze upon the other man's face, seeking signs of discomfort, that his touch is unwanted in this moment, but there are none – and so he takes a step further, lifting the hand from Neuvillette's knee and directing it, instead, to rest atop his own, secured in place by the hand he closes over it. It is a quietly intimate touch, a measure of their growing bond – a measure of their repairing bond. The action prompts a pause in Neuvillette's speech, a quick glance in his direction, and Wriothesley is quick to smile, giving the hand beneath his a gentle squeeze in reassurance. "Don't stop now," he utters with a little hint of teasing in his tone, "you were just getting to the good bit."

Another step forward, he thinks, and hopes he conveys that through their locked eyes. Small steps, but in the right direction.

[torao-chan]

me: okay, friday is Full Of Things me: but saturday should be nice and calm. good for energy recovery. me: i can do a few home tasks and just revitalise by myself my phone: hey <3 did you want a morning with conversing with 3+ people simultaneously me: ... OTL i mean, I guess??? my phone: they're all important conversations with people you refuse to push aside because they are Also important to you me: ah yes. my choices. they are there, but preemptively concluded aldskjlgdf

[14dayswithyou]

Is the other killer Angels landlord? because I swear I saw in a post that said Angels landlord is the last one you'd expect it to be.

✦゜ANSWERED: Nope, they're not the other killer — but I've heard that your landlord owns a cat with blue eyes... 👀

[dragonidpyrus12]

Here's a bit from Be Somebody that nobody asked for since I've been starting to re-watch genrex and trying to make the plot for what comes next. Moreso filling in the gaps between the current point and the climax of the story. Whether I'm going to be able to wake up the muse or not is another story 😭

Turning on the side and letting out a mumbled groan, Ben rubbed his eyes before sitting up, his legs hanging from the side of the bed like usual.

He brought his hands to his face, feeling the slightly accentuated bags underneath his eyes. Having nightmares only tormented his poor sleep schedule even more, despite getting considerably more sleep here, in Rex's dimension, than his own.

Opening his eyes, Ben left his hands fall in his lap as he realized he was feeling the floor under his feet, events of the previous night flooding right back in his mind. He looked around the bed he was in, and up at the higher bed above him, finding no one there.

Until finally, as he glanced around the room, his eyes landed on Rex.

The teen ended up falling asleep on the couch, standing upright with his back leaning on it, arms crossed. Ben got up on his feet and walked over, looked at the boy's peaceful sleeping face as his chest rose and fell with each silent breath.