cherry valley forever
todays bird
we're not kids anymore.
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
No title available
Stranger Things
⁂
shark vs the universe
🪼
$LAYYYTER
styofa doing anything
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Keni
trying on a metaphor
Show & Tell
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
pixel skylines
Jules of Nature
JVL
blake kathryn
seen from Kenya
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Poland
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Germany
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@jetlag102
Here comes the… MASTER POST
So ! First ! This is a fandom space. Be nice. Everyone is accepted as long as they’re nice.
Second ! I tag all of my posts that aren’t reblogs with #my posts.
Third ! My art tag is #my art.
Fourth ! Any other posts are tagged #my other posts.
Fifth ! I go by she/her.
Deadpool really has a thing for metal-y X-men…
Cable : metal arm
Collosus : literally entirely made out of metal
Wolverine : an exception to the rule ! Wait no HIS SKELETON IS COVERED IN METAL
Spidey and his wife are the actual exceptions, but they don’t appear in the DP movies, so that means his movie version REALLY has a type
Idk man, what happens in the locker room stays in the locker room
What happened earlier ⬇️
Teen rebellion
Tenzo wanted to pick up some walnuts and Kakashi said no
I love this comic more than anything in the world honestly
Every panel is perfect <3333
"They say every shinobi carries a heavy burden. Mine just happens to be carrying this entire clan's sense of humor."
And then they all died and Sasuke did not pick up the mantle
Maybe Mr. D never calls people at camp by the right name because then, after they die, he won’t hate himself as much for forgetting their names
ur first and last recent emojis are ur gender now. mine is 🅱👨❤💋👨
😭🙏
Oh, joy. How wonderful.
😭😄
My gender is bipolar disorder it seems
🦈🎃
shark celebrates Halloween.
yeah that checks out
@umbral-paladin @luigipowtumbl @drowninnoodles @jielikesfrogs @strangelycasualhorror @imnotactallycool
😳😮
Ummm, ooooookaaay then…
🔪♥️
My gender is yandere, I don’t know how to feel about this
@cutelover76 @emberthearsonist @stargazingdustbunny @pipittypro @anything-but-the-kitchen-sink @hungry-skeleton @alamuts-lair-of-madness
🙌🍓
Uhhhh? Cool?
If interested/nf: @gremlinlotusannonhere @thegrinningghost @raining-king-of-ithacaa
🔥👹
HELL YEAH
@x0xastarothx15x @stars-and-sharks
🤣😡
My gender is locking in to beat you up.
👍😅
Honestly yeah that feels about right
🥚😉 ummmmmmmm
rb to have a super gay 2023
rb to have a super gay 2024
rb to have a super gay 2025
rb to have a super gay 2026
Cards against humanity should add a card that says *insert player name* where you can pick someone in the circle…
Barty w/ literally anyone be like:
This is your friendly reminder that Apollo not only made mpreg canon, but also invented mansplaining, the honey he gay meme, and pissed himself every other chapter of toa
Icon
My thing with the ending of ToA (spoilers ahead, naturally) is how bittersweet it is. Like, yes Apollo has a healthier mindset and a commitment to being better...
But also he's back in his abuser's household after finally getting to learn what life is like outside of his immediate control. He learns what it's like to have healthy relationships that aren't overshadowed and dominated by fear of his father. He's learned that abuse is a cycle he needs to actively decide not to participate in.
And now after all that, the best he can do is decide not to engage with Zeus when possible. But the thing with abusive parents is they're inherently irrational, and even if you don't do anything, they are going to get mad at you sooner or later. Hell, the entire point of ToA was that for all the things Apollo did that were shitty, the thing Zeus picked out as the reasoning for him turning mortal (blaming his prophecy for the rise of the giants) was one of the few things that wasn't his fault because that is simply not how the power of prophecy works. Like yes he massively fucked up with Octavian, but that's not the main reason for his punishment. The main reasoning Zeus had was that Apollo "allowing" the prophecy of the Seven to be spoken caused Gaea's rise.
Apollo also notes that he'll visit the mortal world every now and again and was privileged to be a part of it for a little bit, but knows that the ancient laws prevent him from spending too much time there. So that method of escapism exists but needs to stay largely off the table if he intends to keep those friends he made safe. They're the ones who will end up bearing the brunt of the punishment for it if he doesn't.
Apollo having a healthier mindset is great, but it isn't going to protect him from the physical abuse we know takes place on Olympus, and it isn't going to protect him from verbal/mental abuse either because those things still hurt, even if you have a great mindset about it.
Apollo can try to be better himself, but he accepts that Zeus won't. So after everything, Apollo's ending still includes him being abused and I think that's very bittersweet, especially because they are immortal and so there is no perceivable end.
I wanna add here my point isn't necessarily that the ending was bad or should be changed. Just that its implications are very sad to me. I hope in the future as the Riodarnverse expands we get to follow up with Apollo at some point, even if it's just in a cameo.
how do you see Hobie's gender?
cis masc
cis fem
transmasc
transfem
genderqueer
genderfluid
nonbinary (as a label, not an umbrella term in this case :) )
unlabled
other (elaborate if you wish!!)
I've seen so many headcanons & just wanna know what ppl think :)
Do you see the Evan vibe ?
Sirius‘s gender is just “pretty”
A Prince's Favour
A little caspeter drabble before Peter duels Miraz. Enjoy!
.
Peter is standing still in the middle of the overheated room as Edmund drags the strings of his pauldron taut and twists them into a knot when Caspian appears is the doorway. He watches as Caspian takes a step into the room, then steps back as if unsure whether he is allowed to enter or not, and decides to put his mind to rest.
“Caspian,” he says as amicably as he can, and holds in his smile when the Prince startles. “Come in, sit.”
Caspian tilts his head, then slowly steps into the room. He is not yet dressed for battle, but there are three weapons on him— his sword and two daggers. Peter lifts his arm so that Edmund can attach the buckle, but does not take his eyes off of Caspian, who sits down gingerly on the cot before turning to him with an uncomfortably straight back and curious eyes.
“This is your armour from the Golden Age, I presume?” he asks, head clocked like a dog, watching as Edmund finishes with the pauldron and moves onto the arm bracers. Peter buckles them up this time, Edmund holding the metal pieces together so he can drag the strap and pin the metal down.
“You presume correctly,” he says, lips twitching up into a sad smile. A pang echoes through his heart at the memory, but he still continues speaking. “It was one of the gifts from Lucy on our fourth coronation anniversary— our previous suit of armour suffered irreversible damage at the hands of the Giant King Bhisa during the Second Rebellion of Ettinsmoor.”
Caspian eyes the armour again, taking in the gold details on the edges, the embossed details that displayed a lion rearing on its hind legs.
“Your sister has a tasteful eye,” he says quietly, and Peter lets out a bark of laughter. Edmund snorts as he steps away and drops down on the cot next to Caspian, who looks a little apprehensive as Peter continues to laugh, the younger King cackling beside him. “I don’t understand— did I say something absurd or—”
Edmund doubles over, arms wrapped around his stomach as he wheezes, and Peter shakes his head. “No, no,” he chortles. “It is simply that, well— Lucy has horrible taste in aesthetics, and she knows it. She consulted Suzenn when having this made.”
Edmund’s cackling slowly dies out, and Peter sighs, leaning against the wall. He breathes in silence for a few seconds, and sighs when Caspian opens his mouth, then closes it again and bites his lip.
“There is something troubling you,” he says matter of factly, and Caspian sighs.
“Well, it—” he huffs, eyebrows furrowing, and Peter pushes himself off the wall to get closer. Caspian looks up, fists clenched where they rest against the edge of Peter’s cot, and his lips twist into a frown. “Why did none of you even consider sending a challenge of single combat between Miraz and I? I know I am not as excellent as you are, but I am still a capable sword wielder and—”
“And the only figurehead of an oppressed people.” Edmund.
Caspian twists his head to the side to give the King a confused look, and Peter absently trails his gaze over the line of his nose as it scrunches. “What?”
Edmund pushes himself to his feet with a rough exhale, then pats Caspian on the shoulder and walks out without a word. Peter sighs when Caspian shoots the empty doorway a look that is half confused, half annoyed, and finds himself agreeing with the sentiment.
“Edmund enjoys being a man of too few words a little too much,” he says exasperatedly, and smiles at the chuckle his statement elicits. “What he wishes to convey,” he explains, “is that you are too important a person to risk sending to die— you are certainly capable with a sword, but we have no guarantee that you would not lose the duel. You are the person we wish to put on the throne. You are the figurehead. You cannot die, Caspian. We need you alive.”
Caspian’s frown deepens, and Peter has the sudden urge to press the tip of his finger to the divot between his eyebrows, to ease the expression off of Caspian’s handsome face. Such intense worry does not belong on such a beautiful face. “But you are High King,” the Prince says slowly. “Your siblings are Rulers with you. If I die, you four would continue to fight, would you not?”
Peter closes his eyes, feeling the armour press into his skin, feeling his skin heat with the flames that burn just out of reach. He blinks and locks gazes with Caspian, lips set into a serious line.
“Verily, we would fight for Narnia till our last breath,” he vows solemnly, and the words settle into his skin just as they had in the times long gone, when he had uttered them before every battle he fought. Now, he utters them before battle once again, a High King without a Kingdom. “However, we have no wish to rule over Narnia.”
His time to rule is done. He had his chance, and he knows he did well, and now it is time to let go. He does not need to rule, and neither does he want to. He says as much to Caspian, pushing as much earnestness into his voice as he can. “Our reign is over— we are simply here as help, as assistance, to place the crown upon your head. If the future king is dead…”
Caspian’s frown immediately clears, and his eyes widen in realisation, and he breathes, “then so is the revolution, and so are the Narnians.”
“So you understand,” Peter says with a nod, reaching over to the table so he can pull on his gauntlets. “We may be the golden past of Narnia, but you, Caspian— you are the hopeful future of Narnia. This is why we cannot afford a single mistake in ensuring your survival, why we must send out a champion to fight in your name instead of you yourself lifting up your sword.”
“Why must you be the champion? Why not anyone else?” No sooner has he finished speaking, does Caspian realise what he has said, and ducks his head in embarrassment. “I apologise, I had no intention of being rude.”
Peter grins, hopelessly endeared by the flush that has climbed up the Prince’s cheeks, and leans forward to gently flick his forehead. He scrunches up his nose into an annoyed frown, and Peter laughs quietly.
“We would not label curiosity as rudeness.” Amusement is apparent in his voice, and Caspian definitely notices it, going by the way his annoyed frown deepens. “You are free to ask all the questions that you want to ask. As for why not anybody else, well— duels may only be fought between knights. I am the only knight apart from Edmund in our army, and Edmund is to be my second.”
Caspian purses his lips and stares at Peter, hand reaching up to grab his gauntlet covered wrist. Peter almost wishes he had left off wearing the gauntlets for later, but he pushes away the thought and focuses on the way that Caspian turns his eyes to the side and refuses to meet his gaze.
“But…,” the Prince chokes out quietly, “what— what if— what if you die?”
Peter stills. He stares at the boy sitting on his cot, hair sweeping across his face like a silky curtain and fingers clutching his gauntlet. He presses his lips into a straight line, then breathes deeply and reaches a hand out, tilting Caspian’s chin up with gentle fingers. He goes down on one knee to come level with Caspian’s face, and waits until his eyes lift up.
“That will not happen,” he says firmly, confidently. “Trust, Caspian, that Our life will not be taken by a Kinslayer.”
Caspian exhales, swallows, then nods slowly. He leans forward to press his forehead to Peter’s shoulder, and Peter places a hand on the back of his head.
“We shall fight as your champion knight in the duel,” he murmurs quietly into the scant space between them. Caspian smells of leather and sea salt and the soft summer air, and Peter longs to simply hold him close, to wrap his arms around him and never let go. “And when victory is Ours, the throne of Naernia shall be yours, Caspian.”
Caspian raises his head from Peter’s shoulder, black eyes glittering madly and lips parted just so, and Peter feels all his breath leave him in one silent exhale. The firelight from the torches turns the other man’s skin burnished golden, and Peter wants to drag a fingertip over the strong line of his eyebrows, over the straight bridge of his perfect nose, down his high cheekbones, along his sharp jaw, over the seam of his plush lips.
“Well then,” Caspian breathes, quiet and almost like he is not in control of what he is saying, “it is only right that my knight would carry my favour.”
He leans forward and presses his lips to Peter’s.
Peter kisses back on instinct. He closes his eyes and wraps an arm around Caspian’s waist, dragging him forward by that and the hand still on the back of his head, till he is sliding off the cot and onto his thigh with a muffled sound of surprise. He marvels at the softness of those lips, at the feel of hands coming up to cup the sides of his armoured neck, fingers splaying over the mail coif and reaching under to brush lightly against his jawline. Distantly he wishes he was not wearing armour if only to feel that warm touch on bare skin, and then it suddenly occurs to him what is happening.
He pulls back with a sharp intake of breath, the cold douse of realisation of his actions spilling over the warmth that had spread through his chest.
He opens his eyes, and immediately regrets it; Caspian’s cheeks are dusted deep red, rosy lips parted and dark eyes wide almost as if he is surprised. His hair is a little messed up under Peter’s hand, and he is still only a hair’s breadth away. The sight makes Peter long to press forward and take, take, take, more and more and more, but he unwraps his arms from around Caspian.
Before he can say anything, however, Caspian bolts.
Peter is left alone in the room, still down on one knee that is starting to ache and his arms hanging limply at his side, staring at the empty doorway with the phantom feel of soft lips pressing against his own.
Petition to call Bartylus “Crack” (Crouch + Black)
