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#did y’all know that?
bellafragolina · 2 years
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I was wondering if I could request Milo, Leon and Gordie (Separately) having a crush on a sweet book-obsessed Reader that's also a fairy-type specialist, please?
ooooh, i love the aesthetic of this one. magic academia, i believe? something like that, but it's very much what i want out of life. wonderful idea, love!!
🍓🍓🍓
Milo:
Milo loves a good book. It's a surefire way to help him relax after a day of hard work, and it helps make him sleepy to boot. He loves spending time with you, unwinding together with two books, or the same book that you take turns reading aloud. Milo's voice is very nice as well, and he's easily able to help read you to sleep, should you request it of him. Fall asleep on him, however, and he'll be blushing and stiff as a board the entire time, desperate not to wake you
Milo also adores your fairy types. They get along well with his grass types, and they're all so adorable. He thinks they're perfectly matched to you, and wants to introduce you to Opal, if you haven't already met her. He thinks you two would make great friends. And it means getting to go to Ballonlea with you, and watching you and your team marvel the beautiful bioluminescent sights. You look so dazzling in the glow, and Milo finds himself falling harder for you than he thought possible
Leon:
Leon loves a good book, but sadly he's hardly ever got the time to indulge in one. However, knowing how much you love books, he'll read a million and one to have something to discuss with you. Otherwise, he'll ask about your favorites and listen to you ramble about the plots and characters with heart eyes at your enthusiasm. And don't think about apologizing for rambling, Leon won't hear it. He demands you talk more. He needs to know about the story!
Leon doesn't have any fairy types on his teams, so he's very interested in your fairy types. He wants to know all about them too, see how they battle and what strategies you use against teams with type advantages. Will you battle him? Come to the battle tower! You can be the last trainer he fights, and then after you both can get dinner! If you want? Please? Say yes, and he's desperately fussing with his outfit and hair the entire time you're climbing the tower
Gordie:
Gordie is pretty indifferent to books, in all honesty. He doesn't read much, but he does feel nostalgia towards them. His mother used to read him stories as a child, so he requests you to read to him sometimes. He likes your voice, and you tend to have good stories. The nostalgia and the soothing tone you use to read helps him sleep on his worst nights. He's grateful to you for that
Gordie adores your fairy type Pokémon. He tends to try and battle elegantly, and your Pokémon are the definition of an elegant team. They’re beautiful, delicate Pokémon that use moves in a refined manner (at least in his opinion) so he adores them. Perhaps you and him can find a Pokémon that’s both rock and fairy type, then Gordie will truly have a show-stopping ace on his team
🍓🍓🍓
shoutout to @riddle-for-the-riddler for once again being an mvp and helping me with gordie's headcanons. i love you babe <3
~Renee
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hamletthedane · 4 months
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I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.
What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.
What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.
What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.
The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.
And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.
But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.
I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.
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kissandships · 7 months
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When Jessica tells off Chester:
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thiswilldew · 11 months
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LOVE IS DEAD
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transmascissues · 4 months
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it’s so funny to me that people used to try to warn me “if you go on t it won’t make you androgynous it’ll just make you look like a man” because 1) i do want to look like a man, that is famously a major part of being a trans man but also 2) t literally has made me androgynous?? like they were wrong on both counts. i got most of the looking-like-a-man changes that i wanted (deep voice, broader body, hair all over my body including my face) and i also give every single cis person in a five mile radius a stroke every time they try to figure out my gender. the assumption that trans men wouldn’t actually want to look like men and the assumption that cis people are good at correctly gendering us once we’re on t are both weird as hell.
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Friendly reminder that he killed 7 billion+ people in an alternate timeline
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tucklepuckle · 1 month
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deadsetobsessions · 2 months
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This is based off of that one tiktok from @sorruna where it’s the audio from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse.
——
Dick Grayson was a sneaky, intelligent little shit.
He was also dumb. These things are not mutually exclusive.
To this day, one of his best kept secrets- one of the many, many that he had now- was something he’d take to his grave.
Or to Jason’s grave, at least.
Dick sat down and began telling the story to ears that would never truly hear it.
——
Batman’s voice rumbled behind him as Dick, in his Robin suit, stood blankly on top of a roof.
“I know you snuck out last night, Robin.”
Dick froze, train of thought about his dinner derailed. Holy busted, Batman! Quick! Play dumb!
“Who’s Robin?” He asked, the years of performing in front of a large crowd coming to save his ass.
Not that dumb!
Batman sent him a dry look, reprimand already poised on his lips. Dick, however, was nothing but a good performer. Nay, a dedicated performer.
Quick! Do something out of character! He shouted at himself, panicking visibly. He stepped backwards, an idea appearing in his head. In his defense, it sounded like an amazing idea at the time. He had no idea it would blow up into a Justice League issue. If he had known… Dick would have lied better, probably. There was no way he was going to let B bench him for weeks!
“Who the fuck are you?!” He yelped. Dick apologized mentally to Alfred and his parents. Batman paused, stunned.
“That’s my question. Who are you?!” Bruce asked, immediately hostile. His son doesn’t curse. Well, not in any normal way anyways. Dick quickly backpedaled by yelling at him with a heavy Vlax dialect, missing his parents terribly as he screamed stranger danger in rudimentary Romany. After this, he was going to have to convince Bruce to get him a language tutor. He refused to forget one of the only ties he had left to his parents.
“Wait, wait- you’re my son.” Bruce replied back, in perfect Romany. He looked more convinced but still skeptical.
“My dad is a circus performer! Not a flying rat!” Dick screeched back. He couldn’t help but feel touched about Bruce seeing him like a son.
“Oy! Keep it down out there, you assholes! Some of us like our sleep, damn!” A random Gothamite screamed out of their window.
“Yo, shut the fuck up! The vigilantes are helping to keep the rent low, motherfucker!” Another Gothamite shouted back.
….
Needless to say, Bruce quickly brought Dick back to the cave- with precautions to make sure he didn’t figure out where the Cave was if Dick was actually someone else.
——
“You would have loved it, Little Wing. B was running around like a headless chicken. The memory loss protocol was actually made because of me, you know.” Dick chuckled, sniffling as he talked to the carved gravestone.
It did not reply.
——
The blood tests came back. Yeppers, Dick sarcastically thought, who woulda thought I’m me?
Reinforcements were called in.
Meaning, Batgirl.
“Watch him while I contact Justice League Dark.”
“You think it’s magic?” Barbara asked.
“Yes. There was no one else near our vicinity that could affect Dick like this. He has no head wounds.”
“Eesh. Okay, go. I’ll watch him.”
Bruce disappeared in his zeta tube, looking harried. So, to everyone that’s not a Bat, he looked absolutely terrifying.
“What did you get yourself into now, Boy Wonder?” Barbara sighed. Dick was careful to keep any signs of recognition out of his face.
“Stop calling me that! Where are my parents?!” He asked back. Barbara coughed and looked uncomfortably away.
That’s right, Babs. I’m pulling out the orphan card. Feel bad. Dick hid his feral grin.
“They’re… uh, busy.” Busy being dead, Barbara thought, immediately wincing at her own thoughts. Apparently, Dick thought the excuse was lame too, and he sent her an incredulous look.
“Would you like refreshments, Master Dick?”
“What?”
Alfred held out some cookies on a platter, giving Babs a quelling look as she tried to reach for his share.
“Oh, wow, these are really good!” Dick said as he shoveled cookies into his mouth. He tried to replicate the reaction he had when he tried these for the first time, and from Alfred’s satisfied look, Dick nailed it.
——
“Robin doesn’t remember who he is.” Batman rumbled as he all but dragged Zatanna and Constantine by the scuff of their jackets towards the zeta tubes.
“Hey, wait-”
“We have no time.” Batman snarled, tossing the two magic users into the zeta. He punched in the destination.
When they got there, he glared at the two magic users until they got into the cave.
“Damn, Bats. Really living up to your name, huh?”
“Not bad,” Zatanna said as she looked around.
“Robin,” Batman- Bruce- reminded them. He did a quick glance over to check on his kids, and found them satisfactorily uninjured. Though, Barbara was looking worse for wear. Bruce quickly found out why as she stalked to him.
“You deal with him.” She muttered. “I’m going home.”
Bruce blinked and nodded. “Get home safe.”
Zatanna and Constantine followed Batman as he walked towards Robin. It was odd to see the normally laughing child frown.
“It’s you! The kidnapper! Where are my parents?!”
Bruce winced which, for him, was akin to a full body flinch and recoil. No wonder Barbara was so tired.
“Fix it.”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Batsy.” Constantine grumbled.
“Well help, Batman. Though… I’m not sure if he should be doing that.”
Bruce sharply turned his head back to where Dick was. Emphasis on was. Because now, he’s halfway up the giant dinosaur the Robin had insisted they keep.
“Robin, get down from there!”
“Stranger Danger!” Dick hollered back.
Batman- Bruce Wayne- sighed.
“That’s high level magic,” Zatanna hummed. “I can’t feel anything, but I know for sure that he won’t die. Magic like that either dissipates naturally or…”
“Lasts forever,” Constantine finished.
Bruce groaned, shooting off a grappling line and swooping upwards to catch Dick as he fell from the giant dinosaur.
——
“I pretended to get my memories back later,” Dick chuckled. “And pretended to forget the whole thing. Bruce was so relieved that I stopped knocking things over and trying to do cartwheels in high places that he totally forgot I snuck out.”
Dick patted the headstone.
“But between you and me? I’m pretty sure Alfred knew. I think B pissed him off that week.”
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Hi yeah these two images have emotionally destroyed me!!
Ren reaching out for Nora, trying to be there for her - but then he doubts himself, remembering that she wants space. So he lets Oscar take the lead.
But then by the end of the epilogue he’s feeling more comfortable with them again and feels like he can touch her so I nEED TO KNOW WHAT EVENTS LED TO THIS DEVELOPMENT
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Y’all SHOUTED “Remember your roots” for Cecil
Well you better fucking remember your roots now and vote for fucking Vriska
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radioducky · 3 months
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Lucifer, kissing Alastor a little aggressively: Hey, Bambi.
Alastor, returning it with the same aggressiveness: Good Morning, little King.
Husk: …What the actual FUCK!?
Angel: Did we, uh… miss somethin‘?
Vaggie, exasperated: Ugh, they’re playing some stupid game… ‚gay chicken‘ or whatever the hell that was.
Husk, confused: They play what now??
Charlie, squealing of joy: Gay Chicken!! It’s like a bonding game where they have to pretend to be gay together for as long as they can, and whoever chickens out first loses! Look how wonderful it works already!!
Vaggie: Calm down, Sweetie.
Angel: How in the ever lovin‘ fuck did these two convince themselves to go through with it?
Vaggie: Lucifer accused Alastor of being too scared to play it anyways, but you know how Alastor can be…
Charlie, ecstatic: He didn’t back down and accepted the challenge!
Angel: Well… I’m not gonna lie, it’s hot as fuck though. Husk, how about-
Husk, storming out: NOPE!
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wackarat · 2 months
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I saw your post that you want to draw guts! Perfect, I give you a magical permission and excuse to draw guts ✨✨✨
~same person that gave you a magical permission and excuse to draw gunslinger
lmao the permission anon strikes again and i must answer
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twinsarekeepers · 5 months
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This fandom does such a disservice to percabeth and Percy as a character when y’all make him out to be some clueless simpleton that doesn’t know she has feelings for him.
HE KNOWS!
He just doesn’t want to do anything about it, especially after Titan’s Curse, because if he does, he’ll start imagining a future for himself.
Percy forced himself to be the child of the prophecy so that Nico wouldn’t be, because he was trying to save Nico. Which means he had to get real comfortable with the idea of dying at the ripe old age of sixteen. And acting on his feelings for his best friend was not the way to do that.
That boy was hardcore yearning for her because he wanted to be with her so badly but he also couldn��t.
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wigglebox · 5 months
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Merry Christmas! 🎄✨💙💚
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queer-reader-07 · 7 months
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if i see one more person try to claim aziraphale doesn’t love crowley as much as crowley loves aziraphale i will throw hands.
say it with me: just because they show & express their love for each other differently doesn’t mean one of them loves the other more
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alabasterpickles · 8 months
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Experimental drawing of my two favorite TMNT villains because A I got a cintiq I wanted to test drive and B I need some merch of these guys I’m desperate 😭
Heavily inspired by classic punk posters and comic art
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