In Case You Need It For Your D&D Games Or Siege Actions— Here's What The Ballistic Trajectory Of A

had a fascinating english class that resulted in the notes header “the forcefeminization of victor frankenstein”

Ride The Cyclone college Au designs for Mischa and Noel

anon hate

Witty response

Yes it really was that bright in the last two (9 pm)

Birb

A friend of mine has been reading The Locked Tomb trilogy aka descended into Lesbian Necromancer Hell . He's having a great time, and been sending me reports from the pits.

Now I know that in the context of the story "DEATH TO VULTURES AND SCAVENGERS FIRST" is very poetic and badass, but taken with the context that this is the motto of the bone-manipulating guys, the motto sounds slightly less badass and more like they've been having an ongoing problem with Lammergeiers.

Thing is,

A Lammergeier is like, the single most badass familiar an osteomancer could have. Fuck off huge raptorial bird that is either black and white or black and blood red so either way it goes with your goth-ass aesthetic and is extremely easy to train to bring you fun and interesting new bones? Why does the ninth house NOT have these?

Oh right. Jod.

Anyway, this combined with a previous idea I had about Truly Awful Bird/Mammal combinations for The Worst Gryphon Ever, and you know what? Some fuckass idiot in that universe WOULD make a Lammergeier/Spotted Hyena Gryphon. Now that's a creature made to fuck over necromancers six ways from Sunday.

Eats flesh AND bones.

Constantly scream-laughing.

Terrifyingly intelligent.

-And then whatever idiot created this abomination made it big enough to ride and drool corrosive venom because everyone in that universe automatically doubles down on any bad idea they have.

Harrow is sobbing at it's mere existence.

Gideon is trying to cradle it in her arms. This is their daughter now.

"Daddy harrowhark put a bone in mommy griddlecakes and she made Princess Bonefucker Ultraviolence 9000 and birthed her with her own womb-" Gideon is saying aloud in the most babytalk voice possible to the gryphon, who is rolled over on its back and entirely agreeable with being smothered with affection, because if the Gryphon has a sole redeeming feature it's that it possesses the zen like chill that comes from the bone-deep knowledge that it is at the absolute apex of the local food chain.

It's also wearing Gideon's sunglasses.

They do not fit.

Gideon may spoil Princesss Bonefucker Ultraviolence 9000 but that animal is OBSESSED with Harrow. It's a real Daddy's Girl kind of creature, and it will attempt to eat the face of anyone that so much as looks at Harrow without her permission. Harrow isn't sure about this thing until it takes an actual shilouette-altering sized CHUNK out of Ortus' ass, and then she becomes very fond of Daddy's Special Little Apex Predator. She deigns to give it one (1) headpat, and is treated to Princess Bonefucker's "Happiness Noise", which sounds like someone threw a handful of gravel into a running garbage disposal.

"Why..?" Harrow asks, feeling the remaining edges of her sanity start to melt.

"Why not?" Asks Gideon, accurately reporting the entire thought process that went into the creation of this horror.

quotes i wanna see in jason todd fics

i mayyyy or may not write about these but we shall see

Why...didn't you make me good enough...so that you could've loved me?

~ the last days of judas iscariot by stephen adly guirgi

I never was a child I was pulled right out of the sea And the salt, it never left my body...

~ they'll clap when you're gone by chelsea wolfe

My audience is God, because who the hell else could understand me? Who else has been dead twice?

~ half hanged mary by margaret atwood

I have a very childlike rage, and a very childlike loneliness.

~ Richey Edwards

I am the bad daughter, the freedom fighter, the shaper of death masks. I am the snake, I am the crone.

~Aswang by Barbara Jane Reyes

i did not mean to be cruel. i swear i am good i am good i am kind. i have love inside of me. some place far far away.

~ not actually sure where this is from but if anyone knows the source please let me know!

Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it.

~ David Foster Wallace

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. This may be me at my best.

~ calling a wolf a wolf by kaveh akbar

Tell me, father, which to ask forgiveness for: what I am, or what I'm not? Tell me, mother, which should I regret: what I became, or what I didn't?"

~ @dvoyd

If you love me, Henry, you don't love me in a way I understand.

~ wishbone by richard siken

You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

~ wild geese by mary oliver

CAN you PLEASE PLEASE make a drabble of Toji taking care of sleepy Mamaguro and Megumi? I think it would be so adorable. 🧎

oh to continue writing happy toji and happy mamaguro reader... 🚬

the mission was simple: stay up until 12 a.m. to wish toji a happy birthday. you and megumi, the last-standing warriors of the fushiguro household, sat by the door like hyper puppies, waiting for your beloved husband—your fearless protector—your batman (you are not explaining to a six-year-old what an assassin is)—to return home. it was going perfectly until your phone buzzed.

gonna be late. emergency job. don’t wait up.

you stare at the screen. then at megumi. then back at the screen.

the bastard forgot his own birthday.

your son, wise beyond his years, folds his arms and scowls. “so, what, we just give up?” you slap the table dramatically. “absolutely not.”

if there was one thing you and megumi had in common—besides your unwavering judgment of toji’s life choices—it was stubbornness. this mission would not fail. if your husband wanted to be late to his own birthday, that was his problem. but you and megumi? you were gonna be ready. so, naturally, you both made the worst decision possible.

sugar boost.

you and your six-year-old co-conspirator sprawled across the couch, sharing a single pack of gummy bears like it was some kind of sacred ration. one gummy at a time. chewing slowly. blinking at the wall in utter silence like two very small, very deranged owls.

"mama."

"yeah, baby?"

"do you think papa is the strongest man alive?"

"of course."

megumi chews thoughtfully. "do you think he could lift a cow?"

you consider this. "...easily."

"two cows?"

you hesitate. 

-

it’s 11:57 p.m. standing in the doorway, looking like he just crawled out of a damn action movie, is toji. the duffel bag slung over his shoulder drops to the floor with a heavy THUD, and he’s met with—

a beautiful handmade "happy birthday, papa!!" banner, decorated with poorly drawn badtz-maru stickers, because megumi has commitment to the bit.

you, sprawled out on the couch like a crime scene victim.

megumi, passed out on top of you, his little hand still clutching a half-eaten gummy bear.

toji stares. something in his chest tightens. he lets out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair as he steps inside, shutting the door behind him. exhausted as he is, something about this sight makes his heart ache in that weird way—the kind of warmth he’s still getting used to, the kind that makes him feel like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t screw up as badly as he thought. without a word, he moves over to the couch. and because yes, he is that man—he lifts both you and megumi in one go. you stir slightly, groggy, mumbling, "cow..."

toji frowns. "what?"

megumi snorts in his sleep, muttering, "two cows..."

toji, confused as all hell, just grunts and carries his weird, sleep-deprived family to bed.

the next morning, as the sun peeks through the curtains and the birds chirp outside like they're personally taunting you, you and megumi prepare for phase two of toji’s birthday celebration: chaotic wake-up call.

toji, the strongest man alive (and also the biggest sleeper in the house), is sprawled out on the bed, dead to the world. he sleeps like a log, one arm thrown over his face, mouth slightly open, because even assassins need their beauty rest. you and megumi exchange a look. a silent nod of understanding. then, in perfect sync, you both take in a deep, deep breath and—

"HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYYYYYY!!!"

toji’s entire body jerks like he just got shot. his arms flail, his head snaps up, and before he can even process what's happening, you and megumi double down with a second round of high-pitched, ungodly shrieks right in his ear.

"what the hell—"

but before he can even think about grabbing a weapon (because let’s be real, his first instinct is to attack), he realizes exactly who the culprits are. and oh, oh, you two are in trouble. his sleep-deprived brain short-circuits for about half a second before years of combat training kick in.

he lunges.

"oh—RUN!" you shriek, shoving megumi, but it’s too late—toji grabs you both in one swift motion, rolling over and pinning you down, locking both of you in a vice-like headlock.

"GOTCHA!"

"NOOOO—!"

megumi screams in betrayal as toji mercilessly ruffles his hair. you’re not spared either, as he buries his face into your neck, delivering an absolutely brutal barrage of kisses like it’s a full-scale attack.

“YOU WANNA WAKE ME UP, HUH? THAT HOW WE’RE PLAYIN’ THIS?”

"toji stop—" you wheeze, kicking your legs as he plants an exaggeratedly loud kiss to your cheek. megumi shrieks, wiggling with all his might, but toji just grabs him tighter, pressing another series of dramatic, disgusting dad kisses to his forehead. "UGH, PAPAAAA!" megumi yells, offended.

"nah, nah, you started this, kid," toji cackles. "you and your big mouth—what was all that ‘two cows’ shit, huh?”

"STOP!" megumi flails harder, but he is six and toji is built different. eventually, though, he relents, flopping back with a satisfied smirk, letting you both gasp for air like shipwreck survivors. "you’re the worst," you pant. megumi, hair now a disaster, groans. "i hate birthdays."

toji just smirks, stretching. "eh, still my best one yet."