Boo

It's a complicated relationship.

Dan liking this comment on tiktok is insane

After the occupation, the princess was confined to the palace.

Once a month she'd be taken on a walk around the city, heavily guarded of course, to show the people that she still lived. It also served, of course, as a reminder of what they stood to lose if they made trouble. The princess did her best go wave and smile and give the people what encouragement she could.

The rest of the time, her life was spent in musty rooms and dusty towers. She filled most of her time scouring the castle for materials which she would sew into more and more elaborate outfits, which she would show off on the days when she was allowed outside.

Indeed, the public loved their princess and her dresses so much they'd often sketch or paint them along the route and pass the images on so that all could see the princess at least was well.

This pleased the occupiers for two reasons. First: it kept the princess out of trouble. Second: it gave them a reason to sneer and they did love a good sneer.

"What a vain creature she is!" They would remark.

"Doesn't even care we murdered her brothers so long as she gets enough satin to make her little dresses!" They squawked.

This was unfair, of course, for to call her creations "little dresses" was to call Queen Murderfun the Needlessly Genocidal "a tad piquey". Her dresses were gravity-defying wonders lace and pearl. They were thunderstorms captured in velvet and waterfalls summoned in silk. She was a wizard with silk.

Still, she bore their mockery with a tight smile and careful deference.

"Please, good sirs, my home, my people and my city now belong to you. Let me keep, at least, this one last joy."

And they sneered and they crowed most unpleasantly, but they let her keep her sewing room.

Of course, they would have known their mockery to be doubly unfair had they realised the true purpose of the princess's elaborate designs. For hidden in the intricate embroiderings across her gowns, jackets and fans, the princess had encoded secret (and very detailed) messages. When she would go on her monthly walk, the city's loyalists would line the route, sketching down the patterns to decode later.

Thus did the princess transmit all the occupiers' secrets (unearthed while supposedly 'searching the castle for old fabrics') to the city and thus did she build her resistance.

On the day the revolution finally came, she girded herself in armour of thick spider silk and whale bone. She cut a fine figure with a lacy handkerchief in her top pocket and a razor sharp knitting needle keeping her hair up.

As she waltzed through the castle to open the door for her army, the Usurper King tried to stop her and she simply unfolded her handkerchief and showed it to him.

Upon seeing the impossible arcane pattern emblazoned across it, he fell to the floor with blood streaming from his eyes.

She always had been a wizard with silk.

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Idk about this one boys, Cookie Monster always refers to Cookie Monster's self as "Cookie Monster".

no he doesn’t. he refers to himself as “me.” elmo’s the one that talks in third person. that’s the joke. elmo doesn’t use pronouns and cookie monster is blue. how dare you assume i made this post and didnt know my fucking sesame street history. christ

We're deeply sorry Firefox-official

so. when tim showed cock and balls. piper hid her face, lochlan covered his ears, and saxon was the only person in the room that fell dead silent. then it cut to a shot of the three wise monkeys statue. and once again, in the face of her own family being sexually inappropriate, victoria just laughed it off. soo really great tv happening! this family is nauseating!!

Shout out hair and makeup for giving the three rich white lady friends distinct haircuts so I can tell them apart

I think it's pretty entertaining that one of the main questions on this season of white lotus is "will these three siblings fuck each other?"

I WANT MY AVOCADO'S AT LAW BACK RIGHT NOW!!!

no because you’re telling me that matt witnessed his best friend—his true north—be killed as a direct result of his past vigilantism and then one (time jump) year later he is just walking around like the sun hasn’t been extinguished from his sky

ao3 is crazy because you'll read the most gut-wrenching 200k word slowburn that leaves you sobbing into your sweater at four in the morning and the author will be applejacksmonstercock

happy belated birthday kenny, (also happy belated birthday @thoughtsofthegirlwiththecurl!!!!), get loved loser, be careful with those skates

bitty: how was the hangout with kent, honey?

jack: oh, it was good. he had a friend over. doja, i think her name was? she seemed nice.

bitty: doja... cat?

jack: i think that was her last name, yeah.

bitty:

“i think you were a barista in another life” ☕️🌟

Growing up is actually just enjoying the exact same things you enjoyed at 14 years old, but in a more gay way

winged

Awh I Love How Dan and Phil Have Their Own Specials In Shakeaway

Enemies to lovers trope hits again.