I think what non-destiel shippers / antihellers don't understand about shipping destiel is that they think it's about having two guys together on screen. Which I mean, that's awesome, don't get me wrong, queer rep is important. But more importantly, I feel like Dean Winchester deserves to have someone who loves him and takes care of him and wants him in a way that no one else ever has. And while obviously he loved Lisa, and Lisa loved him back, it's not the same because Lisa could never understand him and know him (for all the good and all the bad) in the same way that Cas does.

You could say that this doesn't necessarily have to be a romantic love, but goddamn it, doesn't he deserve that? Deserved to be loved? Are you telling me that Sam gets to have a wife and a kid when he's in Heaven but Dean doesn't get to have someone like that? Dean never got to meet someone and fall in love again like Sam did. Is Dean just supposed to meet someone in Heaven? Could he even meet someone in Heaven who would understand and love him the way Cas does?

A lot of people I've talked to are usually split between believing that Dean either reciprocates Cas' feelings or he doesn't, and people will try to provide proof either way. But honestly, while I personally do believe Dean reciprocates, it could go either way depending on how the story is written. What I honestly think the most is that I hope he does. I hope he loves Cas back because Cas is his one chance at finding that happiness, especially after his life was cut short. I hope that he gets to spend his days with the person he loves because he deserves it! I hope that he finally gets to love fully and be fully loved in return for the first time.

guess which idiot gave their Nerevarine three allies to help her take down Dagoth Ur and is only JUST NOW REALISING THE PARALLELS WITH THE TRIBUNAL

it literally doesn’t help that one of them is a Morag Tong assassin with a habit of being mysterious as hell and disappearing and reappearing as he pleases >:I

Ghosts are wildin' for Samhain

Turned around for one second today while cleaning (just vaccuming, no water involved) turned back around, there's a giant pool of water on the floor covering almost all of my electronics. There's no water anywhere in my room I could've knocked over and it's smack dab in the middle of the room, just a random puddle, there's nothing leaking from the ceiling, and it's not cat pee.

...I think the veil is beginning to thin yall!!

i love being a decapitated head simply because i think d-lphine isn’t as important to the story as the fandom thinks she is :)))))))

“I’m Glad It’s Wick” (Bastien and Rinda Alternate Universe)

"It's as wick as you or me," he said; and Mary remembered that Martha had told her that "wick" meant "alive" or "lively."

"I'm glad it's wick!" she cried out in her whisper. "I want them all to be wick. Let us go round the garden and count how many wick ones there are."

-- Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Secret Garden

Masterlist

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three) Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OC Rinda (Parks) Lykel Word Count: 1,568 Rating: M for Language Triggers: Mention of miscarriage and grief, non-graphic description of a child’s birth. Author’s Note: This is my submission for the @meeraaverywalker Choices March Challenge #3 Fluff, #5 Gardens, #9 Rainbow (Pregnancy/Baby), #10 Birth, and #30 Family. I’m posting so early because work gets crazy this month AND because it’s @bobasheebaby‘s birthday. This is an alternate universe for Bastien and Rinda!

Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. Rinda with all of her quirks is all mine. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this. The keep reading link shows up on my laptop but not my phone. Ugh.

Thank you @asherella-is-a-dork-3 and @bobasheebaby  for always being my sounding board! Thank you @cora-nova @silviasutton1989 ​ @riseandshinelittleblossom​ @tornbetween2loves for still being a part of the journey! Summary: This is an alternate universe for Bastien and Rinda! Rinda doesn’t want another child because she and Jameson experienced two miscarriages, and she’s 42 and a lot could go wrong with her advanced maternal age. Bastien is supportive of this, and they both agree that another child would be a blessing, but they know the risks and he won’t put her though that again. HOWEVER, when I saw the “birth” prompt I had to be a part of the sweet fluff! Hmm. Maybe it shouldn’t be alternate universe? 😊

In my fics Liam’s mother is Queen Évelyne and Bastien had a crush on her, but it was never reciprocated. Her favorite book was Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Secret Garden, and she created the garden with its mazes and rose-covered tree to recreate the book’s magic of finding the garden and feeling that sense of belonging, selflessness, and renewed life that it brought the main characters.

“I’m Glad It’s Wick” (Bastien and Rinda Alternate Universe)

Bastien and Rinda were in the garden maze, holding hands and enjoying the beautiful evening. Rinda took a deep breath. “I love the smell of the roses. And you know I love how the roses ramble all over. You can’t tame them.” Bastien smiled and kissed her. “Just like you. That’s why you’re my Tria.” Triantáfyllo. The Greek word for rose. Rinda’s face beamed. “Ich liebe dich, Mein Herzschlag.” I love you, My Heartbeat. “Und ich liebe dich, meine geliebte Rinda Rose.” And I love you, my beloved Rinda Rose. . . . . . The doctor told them enough time passed since Bastien’s vasectomy, so they stopped using condoms. However, Queen Évelyne’s Secret Garden was a magical place. When Rinda missed her period she knew without a doubt their child was conceived under the tree with the rambling roses. Rinda was so excited, but so afraid. Her last two pregnancies ended in miscarriage, so she wasn’t able to feel that pure joy anymore. That elation she felt when she was pregnant with Henry, before she knew the pain of loss. She was so excited to tell Bastien, yet so afraid. Afraid they would lose their child. Afraid that her fear would stifle his joy. But when Rinda saw his eyes light up she kissed his idiotic grin, teasing him about the birds and the bees when he stammered “But how?” Bastien kissed her again and again, tears of joy on his cheeks, and Rinda felt hope. It will be okay. He kissed her stomach and told their child how much he loved them, how he couldn’t wait to meet them. Our child will be okay. She smiled when Bastien held her hand at their first ultrasound, how he squeezed it even tighter when he heard the whoosh whoosh of their child’s strong heartbeat. Tria, it sounds like horses galloping. He made copies of the ultrasound picture, giving them to everyone he could think of: her parents, Mr. Ariti, Cassie and her parents, Brigitte and George, Drake and Laura, Savanah and Bertrand, Liam and Riley, Leo and Katie, Alicia and Santos, Julian and Theo, Nadia and Kathleen, Collin and Deirdre, and even Notin and Maxwell. Yes, Maxwell could even have another copy because Betsy Beaumont the Bad-Ass Bastard Bird ran off with it when Maxwell tried to show him. Rinda smiled, her heart breaking. She knew it was tempting fate to share anything before 12 weeks, but she couldn’t deny her Tiger that joyful bliss. The weeks turned into months, and Rinda was finally able to relax. She laughed at the quickening, that feeling of bubbles popping when she first felt their baby move. It was too soon for Bastien or Henry to feel anything, but she still told them each time she felt it. She shared stories with them from her pregnancy with Henry. He liked to stretch out and explore. Rinda was so sore from his feet always in her ribs, and she swore she could feel his creepy little fingers exploring inside her womb. She told them how she would stand next to the empty crib, her arms wrapped protectively around her stomach, as she sang to Henry and told him how she couldn’t wait to meet him. And oh, the fun they would have when he was here. Bastien was already a doting father, but he made sure to spend extra time with Henry. He would always be Henry’s Bonk, and Henry would always be his Knuddelbär. That would never change. When Ollie first began sniffing Rinda’s stomach, realizing something was different, Bastien tensed. He began taking Ollie for longer walks and talks, explaining that Ollie would have another person in their house to guard. Of course Ollie was a good boy, and he quickly fell into the role of following Rinda around the house, cuddling up to her and resting his head on her lap when no one else was home. When the nursery was ready, Bastien let Ollie into the room. Ollie took several serious sniffs and turned in numerous dog circles before plunking down next to the rocker. That would be his spot to protect the baby when they were born. And of course Bastien was also a doting father to their Nesthäckchen, baby of the family, always reading books, whistling, and singing to Rinda’s stomach. When Rinda suddenly grabbed Bastien’s hand and held it on her side, his eyes widened when he felt their child move for the first time. And every night after they tucked in Henry, Bastien would gently rub Rinda’s stomach, give it a kiss, and say goodnight to his girls. Yes, she was a girl. Bastien just knew, and Rinda knew he was right. He was always rewarded with a goodnight kick that made Rinda wince, but she loved to hear him chuckle when their Nesthäckchen did that. She’s going to be a football player, Tria. Then Rinda would snuggle in his arms as Bastien kept his hand over her stomach, protecting their daughter, while Ollie took turns guarding the door to their room and Henry’s room. . . . . . Rinda was between Bastien’s legs, gripping his arms and leaning against him for support as he helped her push. Now he was leaning forward, hands under Rinda’s knees to lift them, slowly counting to ten as she bore down during each contraction. “She’s almost here, Tria. I can see her head. Sweetheart, you’re doing so good.” Rinda was shaking, exhausted. But Bastien guided her hand to feel their baby’s head. Then Rinda scrunched her face in determination, bearing down, grunting, pushing with everything she had left as Bastien helped her bring their child into the world. Bastien was beaming with pride when Rinda reached between her legs to pick up their daughter, and he helped Rinda settle their Évelyne Rose on her chest as their daughter instinctively nuzzled in to nurse. Her mouth was open, like a baby bird waiting to be fed, and Rinda chuckled as she guided Évelyne to her breast. Rinda’s curls were matted down with sweat, but Bastien lovingly ran his fingers through them and kissed his wife’s head. “You’re my beautiful Tria and you’ve given us our beautiful daughter. And I love you both so, so much.” Afterward the nurses took Évelyne to clean her, and when they brought her back she was swaddled in a blanket and wearing a hat. Évelyne hated it. She squawked and fussed until her papa took off the hat and unwrapped her, placing Evelyne back on Rinda’s chest. Then Évelyne gave a happy squeak, stretching out before curling back up on her mother’s chest. Bastien gently tucked the blanket around them, Evelyne’s defiant dark curls poking out from under it. Later Bastien solemnly counted ten fingers and ten toes, making sure they were all there--although Papa Toe Monster did nibble at a few delicious toes while Henry laughed at his Bonk. Évelyne was absolutely perfect, except she wouldn’t open her eyes. Instead, she lazily nursed some more and then fell asleep in her mother’s arms. When Henry held her, she farted loudly and gave her big brother a toothless grin that lit up her face. She has my Tria’s smile. But she wouldn’t open her eyes to see her brother’s shocked reaction when he realized her farts were smellier than his. . . . . . It was their first night as a family, but they were still in the hospital and Bastien couldn’t sleep. He gently eased Henry’s head off his lap before standing up and getting Henry resettled on the couch. Rinda was asleep, although Bastien knew she would wake at the slightest sound from Évelyne. He gently kissed his wife’s head before unbuttoning his shirt and picking up Évelyne, holding her against his bare skin. He looked at his daughter with solemn eyes. “Okay, Little Miss. This is your papa. I know it’s been a long day, but you haven’t opened your eyes for us yet.” He kissed her forehead. “Évelyne? Show me your eyes, sweetheart.” Évelyne arched and stretched as she slowly opened her eyes and stared, unblinking, into her father’s eyes. Bastien’s breath caught. They were the eyes of an old soul. Tranquil waters colored by the reflection of a silvery moon. “Thank you, my precious girl. Now remember, you must always listen to your papa because I love you so much and I don’t want you to break my heart.” Évelyne gave him a defiant little squawk and promptly shut her eyes again. Bastien chuckled as he held her tucked against his chest, her troll doll hair tickling his chin. “That’s okay Schatziküken. Treasured Little Bird. Your dearest mama doesn’t listen to me either. But I still love you, and I always will.” Évelyne nestled closer to her papa, lulled to sleep by the sound of his heartbeat. Her hand rested on his chest, against a scar from his childhood, and Bastien held his breath for a moment. Then he sat back down on the couch, one arm still holding Évelyne while he gently massaged Henry’s back. “I promise your mama and I will keep you both safe, and we won’t let anyone hurt you.” He looked over at Rinda who was still asleep in the bed, her wild curls poking out from the covers. His family. Their family. “I love you all. So, so much.”

me when i remember I'm going to the UK in 16 days and I get to see all the good omens locations...

been on tumblr mobile so long i didnt realize i havent updated my about me page since 2014. big fucking misake almost cringed myself to death. how the fuck do i get rid of the hetalia cursor i somehow embedded into the fuckin html oh my fucking god ev why

over the many years of my life, i constantly see people saying "gay ppl make being gay their WHOLE personality" or other people saying "well I'm gay but I'm not like THOSE gays" and it's like. well. maybe I LOVE that being queer is fundamental part of my personality. maybe i have found pride in who i am as a Person because of queer media, queer people, and queer spaces. maybe i think that queerness is inherently tied to my self-growth. maybe i find queer literature, queer theology, queer art, queer politics, queer music, and every queer field to be extremely important to not only myself but the entire world. maybe i think that displaying queer pride so openly and honestly will help younger queers find themselves.

i love that my gender is absolutely fucked and my sexuality is all over the place. I love finding all the little nuances in everything that society tells you is supposed to be black and white. I love finding and using labels when I want them and discarding them when I don't. I love being queer and maybe that's more than okay.

one must imagine dean winchester alive and happy

it is so sick and twisted and devious that i cannot lay in bed all day and read fanfic. why god, why give me this mortal form full of longing, just to keep what i yearn for so out of reach? why must my bones be so heavy and my spirit be so weak?

i know people are tired of hearing about it, but I need to document it here for myself. Today I saw a total solar eclipse for the first time in my life and it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. There's just this feeling - this raw, visceral feeling - where everything around you stops, it becomes undone, and you are just left there with yourself and the cosmos. An indescribable peace. A feeling that everything is okay because you are in the arms of something much larger than yourself. I hope everyone gets to experience that in their lifetime.

Shani: hey remember that time you dared me to try and punch that ancestor guardian in the face whilst Velyne was looking for Julan?

Ioreth: no, I said "Shani, don't punch the ancestor guardian in the face" and you said "fuck you, I do what I want" and then you punched the ancestor guardian in the face

me: sorry man, can’t go out tonight, i’m broke also me: spends twenty dollars on a rock me: nice

Hello, I always love checking your tumblr ☺️, you influenced me to play Morrowind, Hogwart's Mystery and Masquerade Bloodlines and I had great time (your OCs are becoming like a real people by now to me) . Are you taking prompts with kissing now? If so, then could you do 2 or/and 11 with Velyne and Julan? Have a nice day 😉

Okay so first off, thank you???? It makes me so happy to know that people actually pay attention to my rambling and that it’s helping to allow other people to experience some excellent games :D And I’m glad you enjoy my OCs!! Some times I just feel like I’m annoying people when I rant about them ._.”

Anyways, here’s the drabble, I hope you enjoy ^^

----------------

It was late. Secunda and Messer were high in the sky, and Velyne was double-checking her pack, ensuring she had everything she would need. There was no saying how long she would be away, but the supplies she had ought to last a while before they needed to be replenished. 

She heard the rustling of the yurt’s flap and knew immediately who it was, though she didn’t look up. Looking at him, hearing his voice, even meeting his gaze would make this harder than it already was. But she had to do this, and this time it would have to be alone. The Ahemussa needed its Ashkhan and its Gulakhan now more than ever; she couldn’t ask either of them to accompany her on what was a very personal mission.

This curse had begun with a Telvanni. It seemed fitting that it end with one too.

“Vel,” Julan called softly.

She wanted to reply, but there were no words she could think of that would make things any simpler and any that dig spring to mind stuck in her throat. They had already argued, had shouted themselves hoarse over the issue, and the facts remained the same. She was going and he was staying, and that was final.

So she carried on arranging supplies that were already neatly stowed away, and toyed with straps that were already adjusted.

“Vel.” He was closer now. “Can’t it wait til morning. Ayrea will-”

“Will be fine,” she cut over coarsely. “She has the whole clan to look after her.”

“She won’t want the clan. She’ll want her mother,” he said sternly, now standing directly behind her. “Would you really take away her chance to say goodbye?”

“If it means that I can’t change my mind? Then yes.”

The words were harsh, but she knew that the moment that those big pink eyes looked up at her, sparkling with tears and accompanied by a trembling lip, her resolve would crumble and she would be unable to bring herself to do what must be done. She needed a cure, a proper one. For this damnable disease to be expunged from her, once and for all. And while it brought her no pleasure to turn to a Telvanni - especially one such as Neloth - a Telvanni might be the only one who could do something about it.

Finally she straightened up, shouldering her pack. She checked the straps, still looking for excuses to not face her own husband.

He didn’t give her one. 

Instead he stepped around to her side, turned her to face him, and began to adjust the straps himself. Velyne winced. He wasn’t looking at her face, just focusing solely on the task of ensuring the straps were tight enough and that the weight was even across her shoulders.

“There,” he murmured, hands settling on her shoulders as he finally met her eyes. He was smiling sadly, his eyes glistening. “You’re all set.”

For a long few seconds, neither of them said a word or moved an inch. A thousand words passed between them, silent but heard, and Velyne took the chance to memorise his face.

The years had aged him significantly from the young, brash Ashlander she’d fallen in love with. The lines were deeper, crow’s feet crinkled the corners of his eyes, his hair was longer and accompanied by a beard, and both were peppered with tiny wisps of silver. He wore piercings in his ears and on the bridge of his nose - courtesy of Velyne herself - and now he wore the garb of an Ashkhan rather than the leathers he’d adopted back when they faced down Dagoth Ur. 

The last two centuries showed on him, and it was why her condition frustrated her. Her skin was still smooth, untouched by the ravages of time, and her hair was still a pure, silky black. So many lamented that they did not share her unaging beauty; they would natter on and on of their envy of her, wishing that they could look half so young at such an age. Even Shani ribbed her about it from time to time, prodding Velyne to share her ‘secrets’ with everyone else. 

Not one of them understood what it was like. Not one of them could understand why she wanted her curse gone. Why she would leave her husband, her child, and her clan behind to rid herself of eternal youth and beauty.

No one. Except Julan.

Slowly, his hands raised to the sides of her head, cupping her cheeks, and she knew he was analysing her face as she had analysed his own. A little security if the worst came to pass. If anything happened and if this was the last time they ever saw one another again…

It was as if the thought had crossed from her mind to his, as he pressed his lips hard against her’s, silencing it before it could take root in either of them.

Velyne grabbed his waist and kissed back hard, ignoring - or perhaps oblivious to - the tears prickling at her eyes. 

Julan was warm, as he always was, but somehow it was more intense than ever before. Like she was experiencing that enveloping warmth for the first time, and found herself not wanting to leave. He represented so many things to her. Warmth, safety, love… Home. Julan had given her a home, a family, a place to belong where she was more than just some thief. And she was leaving it all behind in the hopes of a cure that might not even exist.

Suddenly he broke the kiss.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have-”

She yanked him back in, silencing him before he could pull away, before he retracted that feeling of safety.

Maybe she shouldn’t have. It made leaving harder. But was it so wrong to take another minute of comfort when she knew it could be months or years before she experienced it again? A stolen moment wouldn’t hurt that badly…

Or maybe it would. Right now she didn’t really care. She just kissed hard until the need to breathe forced them apart once more, breathing hard and cheeks flushed a dark purple.

“I love you,” he whispered after a moment of extended silence.

“I love you too,” she replied, running a hand over his cheek. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. Just…” He paused, his gaze intense. “Make sure you come back alive.”

“I’ll do my best, but you know what these Telvanni are like,” she joked weakly. “For all I know, I’ll end up with tentacles for eyes.”

His face softened, and he couldn’t quite stop himself as he chuckled and shook his head.

“And I’ll love you still, tentacles and all.”

Sanera, Kyriel and Ash all have different views of their immortality.

To Sanera it’s ultimately a tool. One she didn’t want or ask for, but has regardless. She was bitter and resentful at first, but became so detatched from the world and it’s people on a personal level that she came to accept and embrace it. She can do more now, can play the long game on a level few others can, and she has the advantage that she cannot die under any circumstances unless she suddenly obtained a soul, which makes her incredibly difficult for her enemies to deal with.

For Kyriel, initially it’s what she feels she deserves. It’s what she’s been looking for, what all her people have been longing for since the creation of Nirn. Then she starts to see the restrictions, feels her ties to Molag Bal, and she’s scared because she could still die if someone were to cut her down. So she’s careful - she plots and schemes and pulls strings. She slips into the ranks of the Aldmeri Dominion because they’re after the same thing she is, so she’s using them. Playing the long game until they can be discarded and she can achieve true elven immortality, free of any binds. Free to take whatever she desires.

And Ash never asked for it. She wants a way out, other than outright killing herself - falling in battle seems so unlikely, she’s killed two beings with the powers of the Divines after all, but she doesn’t want to take her own life. It scares her too much. And she doesn’t want to even think about watching her husband and children wither and die whilst time doesn’t touch her. So she wants out, a way to cure herself completely and utterly. It’s a curse, and she’ll do whatever she has to in order to be rid of it.

killing stalking isnt yaoi

it’s fucking horror it’s not even that good whether you like it or not idc but fuck off with fetishising the homoerotic aspects and also fuck off with being rude to ppl who read it bc they like horror it’s fucking horror and also fuck off with “BAD REPRESENTATION OF MUH GAYS!!!” it’s FUCKING horror