notyourwatermelon

[notyourwatermelon]

here’s the closeted furries “hey man… can u bum me a cig” and “the one uncle nobody invites to the family reunion but SOMEONE keeps telling him where it is anyways”

if you want an idea of what john is like, imagine hau from pokemon sumo

ALSO the ppl who kept asking me for trans thomas art, HERE he’s trans in this au (; 

ft John:

#THE SACRED TEXTS

[notyourwatermelon]

adrien is acespec, autistic, genderqueer, and arguably not human (sentibeing). he does not realize any of these facts, however, because that would require knowing himself. which he does not

[notyourwatermelon]

Elwing deserves all three silmarils actually. in fact they should make more just to give to her

[notyourwatermelon]

Man losing stuff when you have ADHD is the worst. Stuff just like… vanishes. People will ask: when did you last have it? Well I don’t know dude. I just know it exists and I don’t know where it is currently doing that.

[notyourwatermelon]

“how dare you say we piss on the poor” is perhaps THEE best piece of vernacular to come out of tumblr dot com in the past decade. along with “what were you doing at the devils sacrament” (cheeky. inspired. relevant in every context) and “harold, they're lesbians” (timeless. funny as hell. gay)

[notyourwatermelon]

Wyll referring to the soul-eating mindflayer parasite as "bothersome" but otherwise going right back to the previous task that held his attention with single minded focus is an intoxicatingly 24 year old man thing to do.

[notyourwatermelon]

Bothering the beast

[notyourwatermelon]

the silmarillion is wild yall i love it finrod fucking felagund bites a werewolf to death, instantly dies, and not half a page later i am blasted with the knowledge of sauron's fursona

[notyourwatermelon]

You wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

[notyourwatermelon]

Out of Touch

#the way im always thinking about it #this plays in my head on loop im sorry

[notyourwatermelon]

I'll leave who they're looking at to your imagination

#they’re looking at ME #because that’s my WIFE and SON #lae’zel id do anything for you #this drawing you’ve done is helping me to more clearly fantasize my beautiful domestic life with my special frog wife thank you op #the game’s content isn’t enough I need her to be real I need to hold her in my arms Right Now

[notyourwatermelon]

I'll leave who they're looking at to your imagination

[notyourwatermelon]

this might be my favourite reaction to ttpd

[notyourwatermelon]

this is the best album release of all time because where else are you going to get unironic takes like this and then even get a few hundred people to agree with it

#to be fair you have to have a very high iq to understand taylor swift #listen. Ive enjoyed some swift music in the past. im not an unfeeling robot #but ttpd is. not. it #like yall weve let her get away with so many interesting lyrics but this is too far like come on

[notyourwatermelon]

One of my favorite Elrond headcanons is the idea that he starts out looking very much human and elvish. He has ears too pointed to be a man's, but not nearly long enough to be an elf's, his father's (grandfather's, really) blue eyes and brown hair that shines like an elf's, but gets tangled far too often.

Sure, some weird things happen around Elrond as a child– the birds that seems to follow him, the way some injuries mysteriously resolve in his prescense, the unusual flowers that bloom outside his windows– but really, it's easy to see those as distant remnants of an ainuric power that Elrond clearly didn't inherit. When he comes to Gil-Galad's camp, it's much easier for them to see Tuor or Beren in him than it is to think he's descended from Melian.

But then time passes. The changes are slow enough– happening over decades or centuries– that no one really notices at first. Elrond's hair darkens until it is as black as the night sky– as black as Luthien's was. His eyes leach color until they are gray– not Noldor gray, mind, but a strange, starry gray that some of the Iathrim whisper about. His voice changes, almost seems to take on an echo of itself, sometimes.

The strange things that happen around him only get stranger– the trees bend to shelter him, during storms, and sometimes when he sings, the birds sing with him. Elrond got a cat, right at the start of the Second Age– a gift from Gil-Galad. Somehow, it never seems to grow old or die. The parts of Lindon Elrond most often visits always seem to be in full bloom, no matter what season it is. His healing abilities surpass what is to be expected of a man– an elf– eventually, of what seems possible at all.

At the end of the First Age, it would've been hard to believe Elrond had more than a trickle of ainur blood in him. By the beginning of the Third Age, many have started to whisper about Rivendell– a new Doriath, ruled by a Maiarin lord with all Melian's grace, and her eccentricities.

Elrond doesn't realize just how much he's changed until the day, late in the Third Age, when he finds Maglor wandering on the shoreline. Nothing he says will convince Maglor that he isn't Luthien's spirit, returned from death to haunt him.

[notyourwatermelon]

Sauron: “I like your Silmarils”

Morgoth: “Thanks, I stole them from the president”

[notyourwatermelon]

taylor swift fans are so scary it's like i'm in the truman show. watching taylor swift fans talk about how she soo gets neurospicy mental illness grippy sock vacation is exactly how truman felt when his wife started advertising coffee or something to nobody in particular