#IGNORE THE IMPERFECTIONS OK

[ennzoo]

hey been a hot minute since I posted

WRIGHTWORTH BAYBEYYY (original pic under the cut)

[urfavcrime]

dsmp is still SO insane to me. still not completely convinced it wasn't a social experiment. it is something that can never be replicated again due to the really specific circumstances that attributed to it's creation and popularity

[ohcitron]

first attempt at shrink plastic charms

[kaybrony]

Did I cook

[supemaeve]

"Our weakness is the same as anyone's. It's people, the people we care about"

[poopiefart420]

ozai…… my beloved

I tried to make him look like that one art of him and iroh but idk also whoever decided to give all the fire family members widows peaks needs to be hunted down

Heavily referenced by this vvvvv

Credits to ayami kojima, all their art is so gorgeous

[merge-conflict]

probably going to stop writing the shenanigans au stuff for a while (although i would never promise because my attention does as it likes and i just follow it around) but cannot understate how nice it is to just do little writing sketches of emotional character stuff that is meaningful to me as an author. especially when it's not like a traditional story where you feel pressure to have a rhythm of a story and resolve things. you can just do flashes of things. what if you had a bad day and someone made it just a little bit more bearable? what if you had a conversation where nothing got solved but it reminded you that it was worth living? what if you got a second chance at something you were finally ready for? what if you got a bunch of strong-willed idiots in a room and got them to agree that they wanted something more? what if what you have is a big stupid ugly mess but you knew that you were loved? we joke a lot about the 50k words required to get to the scene you want but.. try just writing the scene. write it over and over. there's a lot of admirable skill and persistence in creating something big and physical and concrete– here is the journey it took to get there. i love that writing. love it a lot! but those little flashes of something are worth it too. i love writing so much, i love all the different ways you can create something and fasten it down with words. of all the mediums it's definitely one and i'll never get tired of it.

[trutletruffle]

one thing that really struck me about the substance is how much everyone in the film was able to overlook. Elizabeth straight up vanishing off the face of the earth (the only person who ever asks if she's ok is the guy from high school), Sue actually just disintegrating right in front of people. you can be screaming for help, begging for someone to notice how much pain you are in but no one cares enough to see. you are not worth anything unless you are perfect. and everyone around you is going to choose to ignore all of your imperfections because you are not a person but a product.

[makis-eyebrows]

Request: <33

Save The Last Dance

With Lando being so busy, he forgets one of the most important days of his daughter’s life.

It Was Supposed to Be Perfect.

Y/n had been planning her Sweet 16 with her dad, Lando Norris, for almost six months. Every little detail — the fairy lights, the playlist, even the chocolate fountain — they had picked out together.

But more importantly, they were supposed to do their thing.

Every year, since she turned five, they had a Daddy-Daughter Dance on her birthday. No matter where he was — Monaco, Miami, Melbourne — he would fly back just to spin her around under the stars.

Tonight was supposed to be no different.

Except it was.

Y/n sat at her table, her perfectly done-up hair beginning to wilt from the waiting, her soft pink dress crumpling beneath her as she curled into herself.

The party buzzed around her — friends laughing, balloons popping, cameras flashing — but all she could feel was the massive, aching emptiness.

Her mom, standing across the room, kept glancing at her phone, a tight, worried frown forming.

Another half-hour passed.

The DJ cued the special song she and her dad had picked. Her heart dropped into her stomach.

Still no Lando.

Something inside her cracked.

Face burning with betrayal, anger, and sadness all tangled up, Y/n grabbed her bag, slipped out the side door, and ordered an Uber. Her phone buzzed nonstop — friends, her mom, even the DJ — but she ignored them all.

She didn’t even say goodbye.

Back at Home

Y/n slammed the door behind her, tore off her heels, and sobbed into her pillow.

At the venue, her mom stood with her phone to her ear, furious.

She finally got through.

Call with Lando:

Mom: "Pick up your phone, Lando."

Lando (panicked): "What? What’s wrong?"

Mom: "You forgot her birthday. YOU FORGOT HER BIRTHDAY."

Lando: "WHAT? NO— wait, wait, what time is it?"

Mom: "It’s past 9 PM. She left her own party. Alone."

Silence.

Heavy, gut-wrenching silence.

Then the line went dead — Lando already moving.

Texts (Group Chat: F1 Idiots)

Lando:

I messed up. I missed Y/n’s Sweet 16. She’s heartbroken. What do I do.

Smooth Operator🌶:

Mate... you’re gonna have to move mountains.

Prince Of Monaco:

Big grand gesture. Flowers. Apology. Tears. Beg.

GOATed Hamilton:

Don't just say sorry. SHOW her you’re sorry. Make a memory she won’t forget.

Os🏎:

Build a time machine.

Lando:

NOT HELPING OSCAR.

Mr. Saterday:

Seriously. You need to make her feel like the most important person in the world right now.

Lando:

Ok. Ok. I’ve got an idea. Pray for me.

At Home – Late Night

Y/n sat on her bed, still in her dress, tear tracks marking her cheeks.

Then she heard it — music.

Soft, familiar, coming from outside.

Curious and still angry, she opened her window.

And there he was.

Lando Norris, standing in their backyard, fairy lights strung up everywhere, holding a giant speaker playing their song, and a hand-painted cardboard sign that read:

"I’m sorry I missed the first dance.

Can I have the last one?"

Her breath hitched.

She hesitated.

Her heart fought her mind.

But when she saw his eyes — red-rimmed, glassy, desperate — she couldn’t stay mad.

Slipping out the door, barefoot and trembling, Y/n padded across the grass.

Without a word, Lando opened his arms.

And she ran into them.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," he whispered into her hair, voice cracking. "I'm so, so sorry, bunny. You didn't deserve that. You deserve everything."

Tears spilled down her cheeks again — but this time, they were different. Softer. Healing.

"I thought you forgot about me," she mumbled.

"Never. Not even for a second." He pulled back, wiping her tears with the sleeve of his hoodie. "I messed up. But I'm going to spend every day making sure you know how much you mean to me."

He bowed dramatically, making her giggle despite herself. "May I have this dance?"

With a small, tearful laugh, Y/n nodded.

Under the fairy lights, barefoot in the grass, Lando and Y/n swayed slowly to their song — late, messy, imperfect — but maybe even more meaningful than if everything had gone to plan.

And as the night wrapped around them, it was clear:

They had saved the most important dance after all.

I tried my best chat. I enjoyed making it though. Hopefully you will enjoy it pookie.

Don't have much to say other than I was trustworthy enough to be mod in an F1 group that yall should totally join, eventually.

That's Gang Gang out!!!!♡

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

“dont feel comfortable share my autism level or support needs, AKA own medical information, online to strangers” ok yeah understandable

“don’t personally like autism levels or support needs n don’t feel they accurate describe own experience” ok am not gonna tell you how to feel about self

“autism levels & support needs arbitrary and needlessly divisive and useless and only separates autistics so will not be tolerating levels & support needs” you being ableist asshole and ignorant.

don’t care who you are how you are how you daily life struggle no struggle. don’t care if you been described as or you fit mild or level 1 or low support needs or severe or level 3 or high support needs or everything in between or beyond. by deny this language for everyone, stigmatize this language for everyone, take away this language for everyone— you reinforcing & supporting dominant erasure narrative of autism community.

yes, “autism” alone should be enough. should include everyone autistic. but right now in lots autism community it doesn’t. right now loudest place of autism community make autism mean very specific version of low-to-no support needs, high masking, late/self/undiagnosed, verbal, level 1 invisibly autistic without ID (who often white)—version that not even include everyone with experiences just listed. not to mention erase ignore or downright deny experiences of more marginalized autistics.

so we use term describe ourselves. level 2 level 3 medium support high support. all autistic in one community yes but sometimes we need separate sub-community (especially when main community ignore us be hostile to us bully us mock us, but we deserve regardless, deserve community with people we relate more to). sometimes that separation important. we need word say “our experiences n abilities n world may be different than yours.” we need word for find own sub community. because autism so wide, just by say you autism no one know what you really talk about. because autism so wide but it being forced into something narrower.

especially those us with language disabilities. who can’t go on explain all details. who need quick word. sometimes word “outdated” or imperfect in your opinion, or word you feel icky about when applied to you.

if “autism” been made to mean only “level 1 autism” or “low support needs autism” or “verbal autism” or “high masking autism.” n only when level 2/3 & mid/high support needs adjective mentioned do people mean to include those things. then. we put it back in. if we mean all autism we say all autism. if we mean specifically level 1 autism we say “level 1 autism”. we not leave “level 1” out. we refuse.

it help level 1 (etc long list that not always equal eachother) autistics out too. imagine talk about how “today when talk to friends missed sarcasm” n all comments about “lol you able keep friends (plural)? you already working on sarcasm? am can’t even joint attention” (exaggerated example) actually don’t have to imagine. because don’t you all talk lot about how look up autism n only thing able find is white autistic boy who Really Like Trains (that some you all ableistly mock their stereotypical visible “ugly” symptoms n say not all autistic people embarrassing like that)? yeah imagine that all you find everywhere when you just trying find someone relate. because yeah sometimes you want find little corner of specific people like you to relate to even though you (hopefully?) know autism wider than you n your presentation n your symptoms.

fine if you don’t need all that, or you don’t find these words helpful for you to face this erasure.

not everyone does.

if you speaking for more than yourself. then your world need be bigger than yourself. or people you agree with.

by stigmatize these words, by deny these words, by spread misinformation about these words, you stopping those us who cannot always remember or elaborate on details of our autism. aka. silencing us. which. only make loudest autism people who erase us seem louder.

if you think levels or support needs deny humanity for all maybe that you problem. just like how if you need emphasize person before disability every single time to see them as people maybe that you problem.

levels imperfect. levels important.

support needs imperfect. support needs important.

don’t care who you are. how you are. what you are.

[llamagoddessofficial]

perhaps maybe some bad guy moth crumbs? Mayhaps? Maybe?

ok ok o kok ok jokojokjfokdsjfokjokJLFKDSLKFJDSKF i love you anon, good question. This also ties in very well to all the fae thoughts I've been having.

Horror has the wings of a great big ragged peacock moth. They're large, heavy, and thick with fur. They drag behind him like a cape when he walks. With the way the mass of fur around his neck clumps and curls, it gives him the appearance of a lumbering bear - if he can fly, he seems to prefer not to, instead stalking the ground and picking off anything that can't get away from him.

His wings are very matted, very dirty. They have been for a long time. He... he would really, really like it if you brushed him. He doesn't mind how long it takes. It's been so long since someone touched him with care. Just... please brush him.

Dust resembles a muslin moth. Smooth, silky, grey. Too smooth - too untouched. The air around him smells strange, when you touch him its hard to tell what's the usual fine powder moths shed and what's something else. The rest of Nightmare's men have cuts and scrapes and imperfections in their wings, tears from battles they lost. Dust has no such imperfections. Almost like... he just doesn't lose. In some lights, when he raises his wings to attack, it's like the edges glow red and cyan. He is not the creature he purports to be.

You're curious about his wings? Cute. Why don't you come closer, have a better look? Why don't you stand close enough for him to see your lovely face. Then you both get something you want.

Whatever Killer was before, it's hard to tell now. His wings have been stained completely black, the only colours are the vivid red of two perfect eyespots, one on either wing. There's probably another moth pattern under all that black. Who knows.

Moth monsters often tend to shed a kind of fine powder, but it's hardly visible and pretty easy to ignore. Killer? His powder is dark, like soot, it clings to anything he frequently touches. Everyone around you can tell that Killer likes you, because his affection comes with great big black marks across your clothes and body. It's his way of declaring ownership. If he thinks someone is getting too cosy he sneaks up on you and hugs you to stain you for the rest of the day.

The exterior of Nightmare's wings looks like a pipevine swallowtail, with a lovely black fading into an equally lovely dark blue. Regal and elegant enough already. He keeps them folded around himself, as a makeshift cloak, and frequently decorates them with silver chains and precious gems.

The interior of his wings sports large, cyan eyespots. If he wants to, he can open his wings and flare the eyespots, causing a sudden rush of uncontrollable terror in whoever witnesses it. It's his decision how the fear affects the victim. He might want to make someone so scared they blab the truth. He might want someone to flee his presence because he's sick of them.

... Or... he might want to stop someone he's interested in from leaving.

[starglitterz]

♡ NIGHT DANCER.

❝ nothing changed, please don't change… let's blend together, one more time. ❞ / after spending the night with you, how do the genshin men treat you in the morning after?

✧ feat ; albedo, cyno, kaedehara kazuha, scaramouche, shikanoin heizou, xiao x gn!reader ✧ warning(s) ; suggestive (esp scara and heizou) ✧ a/n ; HIII everybody make some noise for quill’s shocking once a year post!!! hope you guys like this and if it doesn’t show up in tags i will delete my account (/nsrs) anyways idk why i’ve been so obsessed w the idea of waking up next to someone (can you tell i’m critically lonely? 💀) and so this piece was born. pretend u don't notice how scara & xiao’s might seem kinda similar it’s bc i view them thru the same lens LOL ok hope you enjoy! (also ignore the scara favouritism im kinda obsessed w this idea for him KJASKJD)

please reblog + leave comments ! it helps a lot w motivation <3

✦ ALBEDO. [ kreideprinz ]

you’re awoken by the feeling of a cold breeze caressing your skin, and as you grasp for his familiar figure, you realise albedo’s not beside you anymore. but before you can freak out, his soft voice calls to you from behind you, “good morning, dove. don’t move, i’m almost finished.” “finished with what?” you query, deciding to obey him and stay still. he doesn’t answer at first, but you can hear a faint scratching sound which almost sounds like charcoal against parchment. “and… done.” you shift in the bed, turning around to face him. albedo looks almost ethereal in the early morning light, especially when he smiles at you like you hung the stars in the sky. “i do hope you don’t find this peculiar, but i wanted to draw you while you were asleep. you looked so peaceful, and i wanted to immortalise this moment.” he hands you the paper, strands of wheat-coloured hair spilling over his shoulders, let loose from his usual half ponytail. you’re the only one who gets to see him like this, messy and imperfect instead of the flawless scientist he portrays to the rest of mondstadt. you gaze at the drawing, absorbing every detail as you try not to faint from what a sweet gesture this is, “albedo, this is amazing! you made me look so pretty.” he tilts his head quizzically, raising an eyebrow, “what do you mean? i just drew you exactly how i see you – you’re always beautiful to me.”

✦ CYNO. [ judicator of secrets ]

cyno's skin looks almost golden in the sunlight filtering through the translucent curtains. you're lying on your side, gazing at him and just admiring his features when his red eyes flutter open and he murmurs, “i might have to charge you for looking so much.” his voice is rougher than normal, deepened by sleep and it makes heat rush to your cheeks. “morning, babe-ah!” you can barely get out your greeting before he's pulling you back into his embrace, strong arms wrapping around you as he nuzzles into your neck. “cyno!” you laugh, turning around to face him, “stop it, i'm hungry! i wanna go get breakfast-” “hi hungry, i'm cyno,” your boyfriend looks at you with the most deadpan expression, and you're momentarily stunned. then you groan and throw a pillow at his head, “you're so lame!” “i'm not so lame, i just told you i'm cyno- okay, okay, i'll stop!” you collapse into a fit of giggles right as you're about to pummel his chest, “lamest ever.” “mmm,” cyno mumbles, eyes already fluttering shut again as he feels your plush warmth against him, “i'll make you breakfast, i swear, but can we just stay like this for a little longer?”

✦ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA. [ scarlet leaves pursue wild waves ]

the first thing you see when you wake up are kazuha's crimson irises laser-focused on you. the way his eyes scan your features, it’s almost like he’s tracing every detail to commit to memory, as if every morning that he wakes up next to you could be his last. “kazu? what's-” you're interrupted by a yawn, and your boyfriend's gaze softens as he looks at you. as you brush his red-streaked hair out of his face, he leans into your touch, almost cat-like in the motion, “what is it, 'zuha?” “i was just thinking... you make me glad to be a poet,” a gentle smile graces his features. “what? why?” despite the fact that kazuha is always letting praise fall from his lips like jewels, you didn't even remotely expect his answer. “because it means i'm lucky enough to be able to properly convey how you make me feel, and how gorgeous you are,” kazuha presses a sweet kiss on your forehead, then his brow furrows slightly, “but i don't think there's enough words in the world for me to speak about what you mean to me.”

✦ SCARAMOUCHE. [ kunikuzushi ]

when scaramouche wakes up, his first thought is; why does my entire body hurt? eyes still half-lidded and drowsy, he looks down and he's met with the sight of your back pressed against his torso, his arm thrown carelessly over your waist. he scrambles backwards, eyes widening with shock, and his sudden frantic movement wakes you up too. “what are you doing in my bed?!” “what the hell, scara?” you mumble, rubbing away the sleep from your eyes, “it’s too early for you to be this loud.” scaramouche’s heart is beating a million times a minute, and it’s only exacerbated by how cute you look when you’re this sleepy, not that he’d admit it to you for the world. but as you yawn and sit up, he thinks that he’s going to go into cardiac arrest. “you didn’t answer my question!” you give him a weird look, “we slept together. again. duh.” the blanket wrapped around your figure slides off a little as you reply, revealing your bare shoulder and giving him the faintest glimpse of your chest, and scaramouche’s face turns so red you genuinely think he might explode. “c-cover yourself up!” he scolds, clambering closer to drape the fabric over you again as his mind works through the haze of sleep, letting the memories of last night flood back.

realising how flustered he is, you take this as the perfect opportunity to tease him, “it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” “shut up.” he replies curtly, but he hesitates as his fingers skim over the bite mark on your collarbone. his eyes darken slightly as he recalls last night, the messy kisses that were more tongue than anything else, his teeth nipping at your neck and finally sinking into your skin, all to mark you as his. you’ve both never officially decided what the two of you are, but you both know that he’s yours and you’re his, and scaramouche doesn’t like sharing. a playful smirk curves your lips, “remember giving this to me?” “don’t test me,” he mumbles, eyes roving over your exposed skin. his gaze dips to the still slipping blanket, hands ceasing their rapid motion to try and rescue your modesty, “i might give you more.” your arms loop around his neck, pulling him back down to the bed as you smile teasingly, “so do it.” “you’re a bad influence,” scaramouche groans, hands already moving to grip your hips, and you laugh, “that’s why you love me~”

✦ SHIKANOIN HEIZOU. [ analytical harmony ]

“good morning~” heizou's lilting voice is the first thing you hear when you wake up, and his trademark smile is already on his idiotically kissable lips as the two of you lie next to each other in his bed. “you do this with all the criminals you catch?” you drawl, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat as you see the way his green eyes twinkle in the light. “just the ones i think look best in a different type of handcuffs,” he replies smoothly without missing a beat, smirk deepening as he notices he's left you speechless. “plus,” his hand trails across your cheek, thumb stroking your skin for a split second before his smile turns devilish, “it'd be pretty hard for me to get them to the police station if i left them all unable to walk.” “ugh, heizou!” you swat his shoulder, and bury your face in the pillow as he bursts into laughter. “but seriously,” heizou taps your shoulder gently, almost hesitantly, and you peek up from the pillow to look at him. a soft pink blush dusts his cheeks, and his eyes flicker away from yours in a manner that seems almost shy, “you're the only person i'd do this with, criminal or not.”

✦ XIAO. [ vigilant yaksha ]

waking up next to you is like a little slice of heaven for xiao. he can barely believe that he, the corrupted conqueror of demons, is able to share a bed with a mortal who borders on angelic. you shift in xiao's embrace, tucking your head under his chin almost instinctively as your eyes open slowly, “good morning, xiao. did you sleep well?” he still gets embarrassed by your proximity, so his voice is a little curt as he responds with a pink blush darkening his cheeks, “adepti do not require sleep.” “ah…” you roll your eyes, but pounce on the opportunity to fluster him, “guess that's why you always want to go all night, hm?” “i-!” xiao's face turns an almost delightful shade of crimson and he looks away, “no respect for the adepti.” “not true!” you gasp with mock offense. cuddling up against him, you stick your tongue out, “i respect alllll the adepti. but my boyfriend? maybe not so much.” “you'll be the death of me,” xiao sighs, pulling you impossibly closer. “then i hope you'll die a happy man,” you giggle, threading your fingers through his jade hair. xiao's eyes slide shut from the feeling of you playing with his hair, and he murmurs a response that leaves you speechless, “after a life with you? certainly.”

i love them this is so soft when is it my turn // general masterlist

© starglitterz 2023. do not repost or modify in any way - reblog and leave comments if you enjoyed !

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

The Good In You

Sam and Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you have demon powers, and after Dean goes to hell Sam and Ruby teach you how to use them.

“And who are you?”

Ruby’s tone when she addressed you made your skin crawl.

“Oh, you’re different,” she continued, unable to look away from you.

“Hey,” you relaxed a little when Dean stepped in front of you. “Don’t talk to her.”

“You knew about this?” She asked him. When he didn’t answer, she continued. “She’s powerful, Dean. More powerful than Sam, or me, or…or anyone. She can—“

“No, she can’t,” Dean interrupted. “You leave her alone, alright?”

“You’re ignoring your biggest weapon!”

“She. Is not. A weapon.” Dean growled. “Now drop it.”

Ruby held her hands up in surrender, but you didn’t miss the way she stared at you over Dean’s shoulder.

…

“Hey.”

You flinched when Ruby appeared next to you.

“Sam and Dean aren’t here, they went out,” you said nervously.

“I’m not here for them.” She smiled.

“Please leave me alone.” You hated the obvious fear in your voice.

“I’m not here to try anything,” she assured you. “I just wanted to make sure you understand. I wasn’t trying to make you some kind of weapon, I just wanted you to know you have power.”

“I’m dangerous,” you sighed.

“That’s Dean talking,” Ruby argued. “But I think you’re so much more than that. Dean’s just scared of what you can do, but I’m not.”

“Don’t try to turn me against Dean,” you said. But you couldn’t help wonder if she was right. “Please leave.”

“Ok,” she said. “I’m not trying to convince you of anything, I just wanted you to know I’m here. If you ever want to know more about your power, I can teach you.”

And without another word, she was gone.

…

You didn’t know what to do. Dean was in hell, and Sam had run off the minute that Dean was gone, leaving you with Bobby. You understood, really; he had his own grief to deal with, and he wanted to be alone.

But you didn’t.

“Y/N?”

Speak of the devil.

“Sammy?” You looked up and there he was, standing in your doorway. “Sam!”

Sam laughed softly when you barreled into him. He wrapped his arms around you.

“Hey kid,” he greeted.

“You’re back,” you grinned.

“And not alone.” At the sound of a woman’s voice, you stepped away from Sam to see a dark-haired woman smiling at you. Her eyes flashed black, you you couldn’t help but flinch before you realized.

“Ruby?”

“In the flesh,” she grinned. “Well, a new flesh, but still me.”

“Why…how…” you had so many questions you didn’t know where to start, but Sam helped you out.

“We came to get you because we’re gonna go after Lilith. We could use your help.”

“Oh…” the silence spoke for itself.

“That’s not what I meant,” Sam sighed. “I wanted to come get you, I-I just…I’ve been messed up lately, ok? I thought you’d be better off with Bobby.”

“But now he’s feeling better,” Ruby interjected, and Sam frowned at her. “And we could use your help.”

“How?”

Ruby smiled.

“Im gonna teach you how to use those powers you have.”

…

You resisted at first, but once Sam assured you that he supported this plan, you found it hard to say no. You couldn’t help but think that this wasn’t what Dean wanted for you, but the magic that Ruby was suggesting was so harmless that you felt almost alright with it.

In fact, it was more than harmless: it was pretty darn wholesome.

“You’re telling me I can heal people?”

“Kid,” Ruby grinned. “You can do whatever you want.” When Sam cleared his throat, she sighed and continued. “But Sam’s made me promise to keep you on the Mister Roger’s side of your powers, so healing it is.”

Using your powers wasn’t as easy as Ruby had thought it would be. You found that you couldn’t heal a thing without her careful instruction each time, and even then it wasn’t always perfectly effective.

But that didn’t matter to you, because it worked. Even though it was hard, and imperfect, you’d done it. You were using your powers, and there wasn’t a bit of evil about doing it. You’d never felt stronger.

And then Dean came back from hell.

You were over the moon when he came back, but when he found out that Sam was drinking demon blood and you were using your powers, the boys had a terrible fight and split, unable to agree on how to fight Lilith.

The one thing they did agree on, was that you wouldn’t be going. Dean would never let you use your powers, and even if he did Sam had decided that you weren’t learning fast enough to be a useful healer mid-battle. So, Bobby’s it was.

Even after Lilith was killed (which Sam and Dean had both refused to tell you about), and the apocalypse started Sam and Dean decided to stay separated from each other, and you apparently.

That is, until Bobby got a call from Dean.

“Bobby, it’s bad,” Dean’s voice was strained, and weak. “I don’t know if-if you’d be able to patch me up in time.”

“I—“

“Let me help.” You surprised both men by speaking up as you stepped into Bobby’s living room. “Dean where are you?”

“No!” Dean insisted. “You’re not using magic on me.”

“Dean, I can heal you.”

“Yeah right,” Dean scoffed.

“Don’t be an idjit,” Bobby interjected. “I’ve seen her do it, she can help you.”

“I said no,” Dean replied.

Bobby shook his head with a grunt.

“Where are you? I’ll come help you.”

Dean rattled off an address, and continued.

“Don’t bring her wi—“

Bobby hung up on him.

“You’re coming,” Bobby told you. “We’re gonna save that boy’s life whether he wants us to or not.”

“Bobby, I need Sam or Ruby. I-I’m no good without them, I need help to—“

“It’s alright, kid. I think I know where they’re holed up, it’s on the way. Let’s go.”

…

“Where’s Ruby?”

Sam said nothing as he climbed into Bobby’s car, and the three of you set off to find Dean.

“How is he?” Sam asked Bobby.

“Well, from what I understand he’s hanging in there, but I don’t think I can patch him up with bandaids and alcohol this time,” Bobby sighed.

“Well then we better get moving.”

…

“I said just you, Bobby!”

Your gut twisted at the sight of all that blood—Dean’s blood—pooling around his stomach. This definitely wasn’t a job for normal medication.

“Dean, let her help,” Sam insisted.

“I thought we went over this! These powers—“

“Her powers aren’t like mine,” Sam argued. “She does nothing but good with them.”

“Yeah, right,” Dean scoffed. “There’s nothing right about this stuff.”

“Dean, all she does is heal,” Sam said.

“What?” Dean frowned. “Heal? You can’t heal.”

“I told you,” Sam replied patiently. “Her powers aren’t like mine. I would never let her drink demon blood, or go dark side. She’s never done anything even remotely questionable with her powers. Now stop being such a jerk and let her heal you.”

Dean gave a nod that was barely visible, but it was enough for you. He tensed when you put your hand on his wound, but he trusted you.

“Sam?” You turned to look at your big brother, and he knelt down next to you.

“You’re doing great,” he insisted. “Just concentrate.”

With Sam talking you through it, you were able to slowly heal up Dean’s wounds.

“That was great.” Sam wrapped an arm around you while you leaned against him, exhausted. He rested his chin on your head. “You’re getting better, that was a pretty tough wound to heal.”

Dean looked up from where he had been inspecting his would, as though checking it for sulfur.

“Using your powers drains you, huh?”

You nodded wearily, closing your eyes and letting Sam lift you in his arms.

“We should get going,” Sam said.

…

You waited in the Impala, slowly regaining your strength, while Sam and Dean talked. You didn’t have to hear their conversation to see the conclusion; they were coming back.

“It’s about time,” you huffed when the two of them got into the Impala.

“What?”

“We’re sticking together now, right?”

Dean’s lip twitched into a smirk.

“Why, did you miss me?” His smirk dropped as he dodged the hand you swung at him. “Hey!”

“Yes,” Sam interrupted before the fight could escalate. “We’re sticking together.”

“Where’s Ruby?” Your voice was quieter now, and you weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer. “How did the apocalypse start? I-I don’t understand why you won’t tell me.”

Dean sighed. He’d been hoping to keep this conversation on pause for a little while longer.

“Ruby’s dead,” he answered, seeing no more reason to beat around the bush. He watched in the rearview mirror as you pulled your knees up to your chest, your head ducked down. He wasn’t around while you were with Ruby, but he’d sensed that throughout your training the two of you had become close.

“Lilith was the final seal,” Sam sighed. “Ruby…she lied to us. She wanted Lucifer set free. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t speak for the rest of the drive, and the brothers didn’t push you. Sam was pretty sure that you were crying for a while, but eventually your exhaustion pushed you into a deep sleep.

“I’d never let her do something that could make her evil.”

Dean was surprised when Sam suddenly spoke up.

“Look,” Dean sighed. “I saw how her power works, and it…maybe I was wrong. I don’t know. I just want her to—“

“I know,” Sam interrupted. “I want that too. I wouldn’t have let her use those powers if I thought they…they’d make her like me. But she’s not. There’s no demon blood, or black eyes, or-or anything messed up like that. There’s just her. And she’s good.”

“I still don’t know if I like it,” Dean admitted.

“Sam is right.”

Both boys jumped in surprise when Castiel suddenly appeared beside your sleeping form.

“Jeez, Cas,” Dean groaned.

“Sam is right,” Cas repeated. “Your sister’s powers aren’t dark. In fact, I can show her how to use them more efficiently.”

“You can?” Sam was surprised. “What do you know about her powers?”

“Well, it’s true that she could use them for dark purposes,” Cas admitted. “So I think only letting her heal is the best strategy. But I see no reason for her to suppress them entirely. That could just lead to them coming out in uncontrollable ways.”

“Cas?” All three men turned at the sound of your voice. You rubbed your face, sitting up straighter and smiling at the angel. “What are you doing here? Are you staying?”

“For as long as I can,” Cas promised. “I want to help your brothers train you to use your powers.”

“Really?” You smiled. “You don’t think they’re evil?”

“No,” Cas replied, glancing over at Dean’s blood-soaked shirt. “No, there’s nothing evil about you, little one.”

“I always knew you were a goody-two-shoes,” Dean scoffed, smiling when he saw how relieved you were at Cas’s assurance that you weren’t doing anything evil.

“And she’s always gonna be,” Sam piped up.

“Gee, no pressure,” you laughed.

“You’re up to it,” Dean replied, and you caught his eye in the rearview mirror.

I trust you, his gaze said.

That was better than anything he could’ve said.

[guiltycorp]

Damn i really want to know tf happened in the writing room of arcane s2. Some of the downgrades were inevitable due to the show's corporate limitations (not being able to progress the class war story in a meaningful way, having to tie things back to league of legends in terms of making playable characters more appealing to well, play... rip Mel and Viktor in particular), sure. But i still feel like it's even worse than that? There are so many bad decisions that i couldn't even start listing them all... the characters, plot, pacing, themes, it's just such a mess? Even the dialogue writing, it feels much more mm Marvel at its worst i suppose. What i am most bothered by is probably just the straight up harmful messaging so um... Cycles of violence and abuse can be broken by individual decisions to become a better person! Got nothing to do with systemic oppression, living conditions, mental health issues, you can just conveniently ignore aaall the social context, live laugh love and then things get better automatically yep, oppressors famously stop oppressing you when you show them that you're harmless and won't put up a fight anymore. Literally three out of three suicidal characters dying to redeem themselves? Not even in a tragic/cathartic way but in a bittersweet 'they finally atoned for their mistakes' way? Groundbreaking lmao. Romantic relationship between Vi and Caitlyn including no communication about their biggest fight, just conveniently skipping to sex and getting back together - would have loved that if it was framed as the unhealthy fucked up thing that it is, skipping over Vi's hurt and her background to once again become a cop, her girlfriend's direct underling at that (!) due to her not having any other support systems... But nope that was our cute lesbian romance wrapped up, a good thing all around, not concerning at all. Jayce telling Viktor that what he 'always admired about him' was his disability and his deadly disease (??? from a character who spent the whole s1 and first act of s2 desperately trying to help Viktor find a cure? sure) and that those imperfections don't need fixing, just wtf truly. Magic bullshit was also weird, some implications of 'natural magic is ok, but achieving that power through other means corrupts you into a crazy robot bitch or just wilts your trees i guess', but tbh it was written in such a weird and inconsistent way that we can skip this one... Yeah actually a lot of things were just such a mess that I feel silly pointing to specific moments or lines I didn't like, I mean duh, it barely makes sense as a story at all... I am happy we have s1 which comparatively was a masterpiece, and i also really enjoyed s2 act1, i truly believed it would lead somewhere good at the time, my mind still kind of cuts off the story at that point when i think about it, that WAS the open ending of the show to me (is it possible that there were rewrites? targeting act 2 and 3? idk, wishful thinking perhaps). Despite my extremely negative feelings about this season's conclusion i remain glad that so many people appreciate the show regardless, it is clear that there was STILL a lot of love in the process of its creation (although i'd argue that even some of the visual aspects of the show suffered in quality, once again i have to wonder about behind the scenes mood of it all) and i get very upset when i see creatives online despairing over reception of their projects even when i'm absolutely in the disgruntled crowd hahaha... ...however yeah, this wasn't great In a world that increasingly grows more and more right-wing politically... we really needed something different i think.

[groovyfrog420]

SV Redeemed AU

INTRODUCTION / DISCLAIMER

First things first, these designs for Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla are FAR into the future. Quite literally end game phase of the story, the “they grow old together and live happily ever after”. There's a long way to get there, and while I will write some of my thoughts about their journey, I'm a shitty writer. There's no single thought-out plot, it's just bits and pieces of my thoughts in one place. 

I don't think I'd be making a tag or naming this AU anything specific. I'm still calling it an AU because there is a bit of canon divergence, but I don’t have a start-to-finish story. (EDIT: wellp that lasted long. new name is #False-Truth AU because I like the oxymoron. I still don't think I'll do much - maybe a few short comics, which you'll be able to find under that tag on my profile)

Keep in mind that these are just my own interpretations, if you imagine these cookies acting differently, that's ok! This is just my own made-up alternate version

LONG POST UNDER THE CUT - don't say I didn't warn ya

I’ve tried to divide it into sections, so if you are looking for just smth specific / only care about one of the characters, you can skip right to it!

Prepare for the ramblings. 

PURE VANILLA'S DESIGN 

more relaxed now - doesn’t need to keep up perfect appearances and the image of a hero, so he can lay back a bit more. (messier, less perfectly styled hair - more like his younger years. comfier clothes.) 

focusing on herbology - with less power now (why explained below) and trying to not overwork himself, he’s taken to different healing methods, as well as taking on gardening as a hobby

slightly more open eyes - (heavily elaborated on bellow) 

different staff - due to being able to use his own eyes more now, as well as staying more on the low, he’d decided to retire the famous staff. Since it’s a flower, it was planted somewhere and allowed to blossom and grow freely - fitting symbolism for a new beginning, I think. The lantern light glowing blue makes it easier on his eyes.

PV STORY BITS 

In this AU Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla retire together. I think PV would still like to teach, but would focus more on the medical and practical side of things, like herbs and healing practices. (He’ll leave telling tales about the past  to Shadow Milk, though he might throw in his own comments from time to time…) He mostly offers advice and shares every-day methods for protection of different kinds with those who ask, but may take on an apprentice or few to fully pass down his healing knowledge to. He uses magic sparingly now. 

This way with not focusing on a variety of subjects and many, many students, he’s able to rest more and doesn’t have to split himself between multiple worries. He can focus properly and give his students more individual attention, to make sure his knowledge will be retained for the future. 

Eyes

(don't jump me pls read the footnote) 

I've decided to take the closed/covered eyes motif PV has in a bit more symbolic way *. I want to interpret it as PV being blind (=ignorant) to the world around him, choosing to see the world and his own actions in an idealized light, and to look away from anything that doesn't fit that idea. Light sensitivity would be very ironic yet fitting - since his own powers are very light-based, by using them to help others he’d be blindinding/hurting himself in the process... 

Over time, he realizes how futile it is. Even if he turns his eyes away from the wrongdoing in the world, from his own mistakes and imperfections, they will still continue to happen. He begins to understand that he has to accept that neither he nor the world is perfect, to stop wallowing over the past and start fixing the present. To keep moving forward and keep working on himself, not hide his imperfections under literal and figurative wraps. 

With the help of Shadow Milk, he begins to open his eyes more and more and accept the real truth, no matter how imperfect it is. 

*I’m not sure how confirmed it was in canon that he’s blind (from what I’ve seen it was mostly implied, but still). I'm not erasing that - for the sake of this AU, I'd like to say that he has partial issues with sight (including the mentioned light sensitivity), but now he learns to accommodate them rather than ignore them and hurt himself more for the sake of others. No, he doesn't magically gain full sight now, but he's more comfortable, healthier, and more honest about the world around him with all of its imperfections. 

Burnout

I believe SM and PV complete each other so perfectly because they can help each other grow in areas where the other is lacking/struggling. With PV, I’d like to focus on burnout, false ideas, and how the pressure he’s constantly under has affected him. He was very much just a normal guy before receiving his Soul Jam. Years beyond a normal cookie’s lifespan of hard work and trying to be the perfect leader, to always ensure the happiness of all his people (whether that be as king or otherwise) are bound to take a toll on anyone. Obviously he'd never admit that, always putting everyone else before his own needs, and he’d likely run himself into the grave. That's where I think Shadow Milk would be helpful - he’d make him realize how unsustainable what he’s doing really is. He wasn’t built for handling immense power for all of eternity, he’s just a single cookie and whether he likes it or not, he can’t save everyone or make every single one of his people happy... Being selfish isn’t entirely wrong, sometimes might even be necessary. 

Onto the idea of false truth - Pure Vanilla has a very idealized view of a lot of things and people. He’s trying to see everyone in the best light, but he also holds a high standard for himself - that he must be the ideal, shining and caring hero and a beacon of perfection . Shadow Milk is likely to pick that image apart - probably not in the kindest way, saying that in trying to be perfectly selfless, PV is putting himself on the pedestal above everyone else while still being just a single cookie with limited capabilities. He’d likely call this image egoistical, and while PV would argue that he’s doing it for the good of others (he is helping after all, right?), Shadow Milk wouldn’t be entirely wrong - this way of thinking, that he’s the one who must take care of everyone else, is harmful for both him and the ones he’s trying to protect. 

Shadow Milk would show him that truth is relative, that “pure truth” doesn’t exist, for anyone could interpret it differently. That PV isn’t (and doesn't have to be) the perfect blameless hero. That his people aren’t as good or pure as he’d like to give them credit for, but neither are they helpless. 

Shadow Milk metaphorically and literally helps him open his eyes - he slowly learns to lay back, to accept the reality and “truth”, whatever it may be, and is no longer blinding and burning himself out by trying to help everyone at once. With a new mindset and outlook of the world, he can allow himself to retire, and leave a calmer, out-of-the-spotlight life. 

Retirement

Ok, controversial idea, but I think the ancients will have to one day retire and pass down their SoulJams. Yes, I played Cookie Odyssey, I know how important it is to them, but hear me out. As I said above (which is shown in the game btw, but correct me if I'm wrong), they were just normal cookies before taking on the roles of the Ancient Heros. Cookies with high achievements, yes, but still. They aren’t The Beasts, baked specifically for the purpose of handling the Soul Jams, and even then, The Beasts weren’t perfect. I’m not saying they’re bound to get corrupted like their predecessors did, but I am saying that this role is bound to take a toll on them. Not even just from the perspective of power, even just handling so many responsibilities with running their kingdoms is going to be extremely draining mentally. (Physically likely too, even if they’re said to stay “always young” thanks to the Soul Jams - many stories teach that you can’t mess with nature and that nothing lasts forever...)

I don’t know who they’d pass the Soul Jams along too - whether that’d be Gingerbrave and his friends, or a new batch of heroes, that is to be decided. The point is, they have served their purpose, they have (from the perspective of this AU) defeated Dark Enchantress, and deserve to now leave the rest of  their lives in peace.

SHADOW MILK'S DESIGN 

“mellowed out” a bit - continues to be eccentric and dramatic, but less manic

still unsettling - most level-headed cookies upon meeting him immediately get a feeling that there's something.. off about him, even if they can't put their finger on it. (I purposefully left some of his corrupted design elements or callbacks to them, like the marking over his eye, for that reason) 

vibrant, colorful, very extra in both behavior and looks, everything he does he does with drama and flourish 

quiets down when out of the eyes of the public, or alone with Pure Vanilla 

peacock elements - fitting for someone with such a vibrant personality. also the eye connection is perfect - if you look closely at the feather he's wearing, you might even notice a familiar symbol in its “eye”

a playful bard - (elaborated heavily bellow) - an identity allows him to enjoy his favorite activities, while also being a slight callback to his academic past 

SM STORY BITS

The bard 

While spending more time with Pure Vanilla, PV encouraged him to pursue his creative interests. Partly to have smth to get SM’s mind off of causing chaos, and partly because they let him indulge and express himself without causing any serious damage. Now he’s joined PV in retirement, though still not fully stepping down from the stage.

Being a bard allows Shadow Milk to indulge in everything he likes most: being the center of attention, dramatics, theatrics, mischief, a tasteful dose of lies and half-truths, but also, in a way, calling back to his past self: for while a lot of his stories are made-up tales, he can also share the history of Earthbread that he’s witnessed. Yes, he may do so through over-dramatic performances or behind caricatural characters, but every tale holds a grain of truth, does it not? Whether his audience chooses to believe him or not is their choice to make.

Referencing the fact that a big part of human history survived through word of mouth, and how storytellers play an important role in preserving it, I think it’s only fitting to make him a bard.

About visual choices

I made his redeemed design less chaotic and asymmetrical, but still vibrant and based mostly on his current color palette, rather than the one from Blueberry Academy. That's because while he may be rediscovering his interests from the past, he’s not the person he was before corruption and never will be again. Instead, he too is learning to rediscover the world in a new light, with a new identity. 

Visually I’ve tried to keep some elements from his current design, if slightly toned down: a wide collar, puffy sleeves, a flowy cape. Elements of his corruption are also still there: different colored sclera (= his one eye being black), the sharp teeth. He may have settled down and calmed down slightly, but he remains as playful as ever :)) 

He still causes local chaos once in a while or resorts to pranking unsuspecting cookies nearby (the slight charring at the bottom of PV’s robe is a result of one of such pranks getting out of hand), and PV has accepted that he'll never be a calm, put-together cookie he once might have been. However, SM's learned to not be a danger to others for the sake of the one he cares about the most, and that's enough for the both of them. 

And that's all for now! If you've managed to get this far, thank you SO much for your patience, I hope you've enjoyed my thoughts and brainworms <3

[sometimesanalice]

Picture Perfect

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

Length: 1K

Warnings: angst and a big scoop of feels

(A what-if drabble, set in the ‘Like I Can’ universe. Can be read on its own.)

“Is Bradley my dad?”

It’s the question that's fueled your 3AM thoughts ever since you had your daughter. It’s one you’d hoped you wouldn’t have to answer until she was older, preferably when she could at least pronounce her r's.

It was inevitable, you knew. Something to be noticed at some parent teacher conference or family fun day in the future. That while most kids had a set of parents, your little family- while perfect on its own- was one short of the traditional white picket fence dream.

You just never would have expected it to come so soon.

Your chest twinges as your now-four-year-old looks up at you with her big, open-hearted doe eyes, the ones that didn’t match your own, with vanilla ice cream smeared across her sweet face.

She was a near perfect image to the man seated next to her with his own vanilla ice cream clinging to the coarse hairs of his mustache and smudged on the left corner of his mouth, but whose wide brown eyes were nearly bulging out of his head looking at you like a deer in headlights.

Bradley was the boy who’d known you when you were in pigtails. The teen who had taught you to drive before you’d had your permit. The man you’d cried to when you’d seen the two lines on a positive pregnancy test weeks after a break up with someone who never deserved access to your body, let alone entrance to your heart.

That man- the one you’d left behind without a second glance- had been all too happy to give up any claim to the little someone growing inside of you. The type who’d elected to send checks instead of birthday cards.

Your parents had wanted you to move home to be closer to them, when you’d told them the news and of your decision, but you didn’t think you could bear the whispers or the looks. Even though you’d love growing up there, returning back on your own hadn’t felt right for you.

Bradley was the one who’d convinced you to move to San Diego.

He was the one who had held your hair as you vomited morning, noon, and night during those early months. The one who had taken you out for late night milkshakes with a knowing smile when the baby craved one. The one who had held your hand and wiped your tears. The one who had stayed up late and woke up early and brought you tea and toast as you figured out how to take care of the tiny person who was an unexpected, but entirely perfect, extension of your imperfect self.

It wasn't a daydream you let yourself indulge in. To imagine what it would be like if you and Bradley were you and Bradley. Not separated by three little letters but joined by them instead.

Your tender heart was already too delicate.

He was the devastatingly handsome man who people assumed was her father- your husband, your partner- on your days out together at the beach, at the zoo, at the grocery store, and at the hanger on base when the two of you waited to welcome him home from deployments with handmade signs covered in doodles and dripping in glitter glue.

Your almost family.

He was yours for now, until he had one of his own.

You watch as the startled look on his face flickers and settles into something softer.

“No, sweet girl. Not quite, but-” Bradley starts, his eyes tender as he looks at her.

He’s already done so much for you, but this was something you had to handle on your own. You might crack, but you wouldn’t shatter.

You’re quick jump in, cutting him off, ignoring the twist of your heart in your chest, “No, peanut. He’s just your Uncle Rooster.”

The term didn’t feel big enough for who he was and what he meant to you. But it would have to do.

“Ok,” you daughter chirps with such simple acceptance. The kind that only a child so young can say with such easy unbothered surety, still soft and sheltered from the world.

You release the breath you were holding as her half-melted ice cream cone claims her attention once again. And then give Bradley a small smile, it's too hard to look at him when the sun bounces off of his wavy strands like that, before you turn your focus back on your own scoop of chocolate cherry chip.

There was no doubt in your mind, the question would come up again later. But for now your answer was enough.

Someday there might be another someone who would love you both in equal measure, but you weren’t in a rush to find them. You had all you needed.

You savor the feeling of your sweet ice cream as it melts on your tongue, listening to the waves as they meet the shore. Content in the glow of the setting sun and warmth of being surrounded by your two favorite people.

Your daughter and your Bradley.

Her Uncle Rooster.

Bradley didn’t know what to say when the miniature mirror of you, the one with the same nose that scrunched the same way when she laughed, asked if he was her father.

It was something that came up from time to time when he was lucky enough to tag along with your dynamic duo. Usually from well-meaning grandmas with warm smiles complimenting his lovely family. He’d never felt the need to correct them about the labels because the two of you were his family.

He knew your routines, he knew your likes and dislikes better than his own. He was the one who had been there to see her first smile, to cheer for her when she took her first steps. It was his name and phone number that were listed in the emergency contacts for you and for her.

Being with the two of you was so much more than he’d ever imagined it would be when he’d cradled her in his arms and whispered his promise to alway look after you both the day she was born, as you’d slept soundly next to him in the uncomfortable hospital bed exhausted from your efforts.

But looking at you now with the golden sunset illuminating your face and the little girl next to you kicking her legs as she happily licked her ice cream cone, he liked the promise future he saw in front of him. He loved the potential of what could be.

This could be more, this could be permanent, this could be forever.

It would be more than just a picture perfect moment. It could be such a picture perfect life.

He had been there for it all, he wanted to see it through to the end.

He didn’t want to miss a moment.

He didn’t want to miss his moment.

Bradley hadn’t been entirely sure how he was going to answer when he started speaking, but he knew what he wanted.

With the two of you, he could have it all.

And he’ll never forget the way air had left his lungs and his stomach dropped when you called him Uncle Rooster.

He already knows the what-ifs and if-onlys will be the newest companions to the list of things that keep him up at night.

The sound of the crashing waves was drown out by the ringing in his ears, as his double scoop of vanilla ice cream melted around his fingers steadily dripping onto the cement sidewalk beneath his feet.

The sunlight hitting the two of you is no less golden than it was before as he scooped up your quickly fading daughter from the bench overlooking the beach that the three of you had been sharing, her little arms reaching up for him. The thrill of her fourth birthday and the sugar crash catching up with her after such a big day.

That ache in his hollow chest is soothed by the way she burrows her little face into his neck, her sticky fingers curling into the front of his shirt.

He still could be a dad. He still could be a husband.

Just maybe not hers. Just maybe not yours.

This moment with your daughter snuggled against him and you tucked under his free arm on the way back to the Bronco, was still picture perfect, but only if he didn’t look too close.

The two of you would always be his family, in one way or another, and he hopes he will always belong to yours.

Thank you for reading! Feel free to send @gretagerwigsmuse your therapy bill, this is her fault.

You can read more of my stories here!

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