#and to finally GET SOME REST

[wyvernsrus]

Was working on a Maze doodle that has decided to evolve into a full work but I was messing with his hair and ya know. I gave him a lil ponytail, for when he's in his comfy clothes.

Maze wearing his worn out shirt and the bottoms of his reds. Maybe Zey got him some fuzzy socks.

Maze curled up in bed with his glasses on and hair pulled back so he can read his novel in peace while pausing to answer coms from his siblings and the other alphas he's friends with.

Comfy Maze

[coniferouspines]

Stanley Pines is dying.

A good samaritan on the street found his unconscious body and decided to call an ambulance for him. Stan doesn’t remember everything that happened. He just knows that a few days and a multitude of tests later, he was unceremoniously diagnosed with a terminal illness in a random hospital in the middle of Oklahoma. Emphasis on terminal. The doctors tell him that without treatment, he has maybe two weeks to live.

Stan can’t afford treatment, nor the hospital bill he’s sure to be slapped with from his current stay. He sneaks out during the night shift and disappears. It’s one more debt added to the list but it’s not like it’s going to matter once he’s dead anyway. He finds the last place he left his car and spends the rest of the night awake in the backseat, wondering what he should do.

In the end, the conclusion is obvious: he wants to see his family. To say his final goodbyes to them in person. However, this brings a new dilemma. Stan’s family are all in different places. His parents in New Jersey, Shermie in California, and Stanford in Oregon. Stan, currently in Oklahoma, is stuck in the middle and with a decision to make.

He can’t visit them all. As much as he’d like to, Stan has neither the money, the gas, or the time to do so. He’d probably die before he could see all of them. He only has enough energy and resources to make it to one of them; he’ll have to be content with phone calls to the others to say his goodbyes.

When the morning comes, Stan gets into the driver’s seat and starts the engine of the car. He sits there for a moment, just breathing deeply. He has to pick a family member to see in person before he dies, and he doesn’t have a lot time, so he has to choose quickly.

It was never really a question.

He chooses Ford.

AKA a terminally ill Stanley makes his way up to Gravity Falls, Oregon to reunite with his brother. He wants to say his goodbyes and apologies in person before he dies. He’s not happy about dying, but he doesn’t think he has much to live for anyway, so he accepts it. He just wants to make things right between himself and Ford before it happens so he can go without regrets.

Stanford is not expecting his estranged twin to randomly show up looking like he’s literally on death’s door. Nor is he approving of Stanley’s plan to seemingly just lay down and die. Good thing Stan came to him. Now he’s given Ford a chance to do something about it.

All current research and projects get shoved aside as Ford focuses everything he has on a new, single task: take care of Stanley and save his life.

(Amazing addition by tinfoil-jones here)

[flwrkid14]

Batfam vs. Tim: The Battle for Danny’s Favorite

All of the Bats, and I mean all of them (yes, even Bruce), are secretly competing to be Danny’s favorite. Dick’s throwing out all his charm, Jason’s leaning hard into the cool, laid-back older brother vibe, Steph is cracking nonstop jokes, Duke is casually flexing his powers, and Cass is winning everyone over with her sweet, quiet smiles. Damian, of course, is 100% certain he’s already Danny’s favorite (because who wouldn’t love Bat-Cow?)

Meanwhile, Tim—who’s actually dating Danny—just stands there watching all of this unfold. It’s ridiculous. He’s the boyfriend, so why is he feeling jealous? It’s not like he should have to fight for Danny’s attention, right?

Still, whenever he sees his siblings laughing and hanging out with Danny, he can’t help but feel a tiny bit jealous.

But at the end of the day, it’s okay. Because Danny always makes sure Tim knows who really matters, sneaking away for private moments, wrapping his arms around him when no one’s looking.

Tim doesn’t doubt for a second that, no matter how hard the rest of the Bats try, he will always be Danny’s favorite.

[lass-us-slay]

So I read a prompt about how Wonder Woman found Danny in a trash can (don’t remember which one) and I was bored.

So I took that lil info and made it into an AU.

So basically, Danny get yeeted into this unknown universe and has no where to live. And no where to live means no money. No money means no food. No food means Danny can’t keep his human half sustained.

So what does he do?

Decides to not change into a human and live in a trash can.

Yes you heard that right, live in a trash can.

Because he’s a ghost, he doesn’t have to worry about the germs and stuff. But that doesn’t mean he lives in just any trash can! He lives in a clean one ☝️

AND he also decorated it with his name so other people know it’s his!

And so Danny has been here for a while now and realizes

Holy shit there’s hero’s here- you know what, why doesn’t he have hero’s back home?!

And being minorly annoyed jealous (but he’s never admitting that)he thought:

Well since there’s hero’s here already, guess I’m not needed.

.

.

.

Good. I’m tired af

And so Danny caries on his life, being content with his trash can and scaring whoever comes into his alley. It’s fun. Sure he sometimes needs to ugh overshadow people to feed his human side, but other than that.

It’s going great.

But Danny doesn’t realize that with Amity gone (or smth, you choose) which was his haunt, he slowly makes the trash can into his new haunt.

And slowly but surely, Danny’s beloved haunt trash can starts to become other worldly kinda.

Yk because of the ectoplasm.

So now Danny’s lovely trash can haunt has more space inside and- Hey Danny can actually sleep in it better!! And he got some company too!

In the form of blob ghosts.

Two actually.

They keep his trash can clean and help purifying some corrupted ectoplasm that he finds. Because for some reason this universe’s ectoplasm seems half way artificial and tastes a bit weird. Which is where the blob ghosts help out in.

Everything was great.

Danny was loving the trash can life style.

He has two blob ghosts friends. Which he named Sam and Tucker, and yea they couldn’t talk but that was fine.

He wasn’t lonely, he wasn’t. He had two very much talking friends like Sam and Tucker.

However one day two weirdly dressed people- oh they were hero’s.

Well anyway they found him, one woman stripper and one furry guy.

But it was on accident! He was just peaking out of his beloved haunt trash can, and they spotted him.

He stared, they stared back.

Then the woman stripper asked him questions, even when he said:

“Don’t mind me, have a nice day!”

But they just kept bother him and giving him weird looks and glances.

Which- rude.

Didn’t they see his mark on his haunt trash can? Obviously it means it’s his home, so they shouldn’t be bothering him still. He’s safe as can be.

Plus.

It’s not like he’s looking at them in suspicion and weirdness, I mean look at them! What kinda cheep knock off vampire fury mix and American stripper style clothing are those!

They should mind their own business!

———

Just a silly lil drawing of this lmao, don’t mind me.

[scribz-ag24]

last ship requests

[kalwithatrenchcoat]

His first flowers will not be on his deathbed. Absolutely not. I would like to buy your finest flowers, shopkeeper!

[painless-innit-colourful]

now one of the contributing factors to the fact I can't wrap my head around the new, peaceful cclingy ending is that the fandom is so different now that it was then. there's so many fewer of us and naturally that just means that posts circulated for less time, less was made of it because there weren't as many voices repeating it over and over like there was with anything that happened back in the day.

but I think the main reason is that, somewhere deep down, I expected the nuke ending. I expected the desolation. I didn't expect the soft, good ending.

because, in the end, s1 was only ending in one place: november 16th. the pogtopia arc centred around this 'will he won't he' struggle that we were all waiting to see fulfilled, even if only to satiate that sense of curiosity, to see what had been teased to us for so long. it set a trend of shock and angst: the bigger the spectacle (explosion), the better, the more people will want to see the destruction. cool lines, dramatic sacrifices, big moments. those made the animatics. those made it trend on twitter week after week.

when the nuke fell, I accepted it almost instantly. because at least it made sense. this wasn't the blinding tonal confusion of utah, this had been established in the dsmp tone book. a big explosion, angst and self-sacrifice and a firery finale. the wins - first disc war, final disc war, etc - were exceptions to the rule, which was heaps upon heaps of suffering and angst. "the good guys die and the bad guys win," to quote my chemical romance.

but two years later, thanks to jack manifold losing a dare (of all hilariously appropriate things), a much quieter, much softer ending. no dramatic lines: typed remarks in chat replacing the feats of acting we'd seen prior. no spectacle, no explosions; just two people drawing some things to a close, completely unannounced on a sunday night. and I keep forgetting it happened because it doesn't feel like it was supposed to.

and that's not a criticism of it or its execution. one of the strengths of the dream smp was its wild format and how it pushed the boundaries of how to tell a story. sometimes it really worked, sometimes it failed, but I'm glad it always pushed the boat out. and in one of its final outings, it flipped the script one last time. no more showmanship. no more spectacle. here's two characters telling you an alternate story. where the heroes can finally rest. where the bad guys' names fade into obscurity. they're "getting better".

one day, I will get it through my head.

[charrfie]

Theyre friends AND family!!!!!!! (June 2024)

[m0nk3y-bl0g]

David Shore is insane for having House casually drop shit like this practically every episode for 8 seasons only to not end the series by having Wilson and House engage in nasty-ass sex on screen

[peace-hunter]

tfone au where OP is created as the last of the primes but way after them, a sparkling born at what were thought to be the last days of the war against the quintessons, the beginning of a new generation of peace after eons of war. a child meant to be loved and raised knowing nothing of war nor sacrifice.

he's kept mostly out of the spotlight by his siblings, who don't wish to expose him to everyone's optics so young, and want to wait until the war is done and over to properly introduce him to their people.

except of course the primes are betrayed and murdered by sentinel, the war is lost and everyone who knows and cared for the truth is either banished or outright killed in order to suppress it.

and the high guard, the ones the primes trusted the most, the ones that were supposed to protect them, the ones who failed in their most important duty, have to make a choice. to take the last prime, their last hope, with them to the surface, a hostile environment where there's little to no supplies and where they'll be hunted down by both sentinel and the quintessons as the biggest threat to their regimen.

or hide him in plain sight. place him where sentinel won't think to look for him. one more sparkling among many. and hope it will be enough to keep him alive. pray to primus that he'll protect his last child long enough for them to come back for him when it's safer (even if most of them have already lost their faith on him when he allowed the rest of his children to be massacred like that)

they almost lose their resolve when they realize they will have to take the little one's cog away in order to make him blend in with the rest of the newborns (and oh do they burn with murderous intent when they see what sentinel has done to their people but it's not the time yet-) but in the end they decide an impaired little prime is better than a dead one.

and so in the chaos of thirteen dead primes and a sudden energon crisis, a little sparkling who very few mechs really knew about and even fewer had seen completely vanishes. and in the depths of iacon a mech in charge of a new batch of newborns scratches their helm in confusion as they realize they must have miscounted the first time.

optimus prime is quietly erased from any official records by sentinel, written off as dead when they find a sparkling's frame mangled beyond recognition after an attack on the base of those rebels that insist on being a thorn on his side. killing the sparkling hadn't been precisely in his plans, he probably could've found some use for it after all, but he's not particularly upset about it either.

and orion pax grows up with an ache on his spark that tells him he's missing something far more important than a t-cog and dreams of gentle and loving hands, cradling him against the frames of mechs he cannot recall the faces of.

[starlight-eclipsed]

A place to rest.

[reillymackay]

i love this game so much!!!! aaaaa!!!!!

[lotus-pear]

I AM SHITTJING MYSELF WHY DOES HE HAVE THE SPECIAL EDITION $1.5K VICTORIA’S SECRET RED SATIN PAJAMAS

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Finarfin Fades.

No one expects it, no one’s faded in Valinor since Miriel. The War of Wrath is won and he comes back, waving off the courtiers, well wishers, and congratulators with his usual grace, and walks into the palace of Tirion. To rooms abandoned since their owners left so long ago. Winding deeper and deeper his feet take him to what was once Finwë’s favourite garden.

He’s so tired.

He’s fulfilled his promise to Fëanaro and Nolofinwë, to avenge them. To make the agony of their final moments - agony Finarfin felt, falling to the floor screaming as fire and darkness consumed his spirit - count for something. Now Morgoth is finally gone, but he’s not the only one.

His brothers, larger than life, larger than death, are gone. With them his sons. Niece. Nephews. Grandchildren. His daughter is never to return. He Saw little Nelyo’s death in his dreams and is sure hopes for the child’s own sake that Makalaurë will be close behind.

Little remains. Even less on these golden shores.

So Finarfin sits on a bench long overgrown with vines and weeds, and watches the sun filter through the thicket, wishing the ghosts he sees in his father’s garden would flesh out.

He sits. He waits.

And by the time anyone finds him, it’s too late.

…at least he’s smiling again.

[bizarrelittlemew]

calling it right now that season 3 starts like this

[raineandsky]

Hi! I absolutely adore your writing!!! Could I please request a sick villain, who went out in the middle of the night just to buy himself some medicine, because fever was getting unbearable. However he underestimated his condition and almost fainted, he had to sit on a ground and lean on the wall to catch his breath and hero found him like this.

I’d love to read a story like this if you’re comfortable writing it ! Thank you in advance 💕🐠

so it turns out i have not looked at my inbox for like a month. oops!! SORRY this is so late!! hope you enjoy :)

-

The last thing the villain remembers is telling some poor cashier to piss off as he stumbled out the pharmacy door. He’s not sure how he ended up here, on the ground, feeling rather worse for wear, with the hero of all people standing over him.

“You looked incredibly dead from a distance,” the hero comments.

“Seeing as you’re here,” the villain snaps weakly, “I wish I was.”

“Well, is there a reason you’re making your grave on the pavement?”

The villain’s head is threatening to explode, his lungs seemingly short on air permanently. He feels as though his entire being is on fire, and admittedly there’s a nice breeze here that’s cooling his burning skin. Not that the hero needs to know any of this.

“Not exactly any of your business.” The villain tries to sound annoyed, but his energy is sapped and it mostly comes out tired. “The sooner you leave me alone, the better.”

The hero is quiet for a moment, and the villain leans his head against the wall to get a glance at him. A frown is forming on his face, his eyes darting back and forth in the way they do when he’s trying to piece things together. Then his gaze snaps back to the villain, and he quickly looks away.

The hero doesn’t seem interested in asking any more questions. He crouches down in front of the villain and, without asking, carefully lays a palm on his forehead.

For a moment the villain basks in the coolness of the hero’s hand against his internal fire. Then he remembers who he is, remembers who the hero is, and makes a weak effort to push him away.

“Touching your enemies usually gets your hand snapped off.”

The hero doesn’t seem to hear him. “You’re running a horrible fever.”

Well, no hiding it now he supposes. “I know, villains are human too. Shocking.”

The hero stays there for a moment, his frown deeper now, his tongue running over his teeth thoughtfully. He turns to glance over his shoulder, and the villain knows he’s looking in the direction of the agency.

He’d like to avoid seeing prison preferably. He’s not exactly in fighting condition, so words will have to do the fighting for him. “I’m contagious.”

“Obviously,” the hero says flatly, but he shuffles back a bit. “I don’t need whatever disease you have.”

“Great. Go away then.”

The hero looks over his other shoulder, and it’s not clear where he’s looking this time. He clicks his tongue, the sound too loud in the villain’s ears. “Where do you live?”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s this or prison, [Villain]. I’m doing you a favour here.”

Goddamn heroes and their little games. The villain has no doubt this will come back on him somehow in the future. “I’m not far from here.”

-

The hero more or less kicks the front door open, much to the villain’s vocalised dismay. The two of them make an awkward stumble inside, and the hero doesn’t hide his relieved sigh when he gets to dump the villain on the sofa.

“Nice place,” the hero says, although the villain would guess it’s sarcastic. His place doesn’t fit his villainous persona in the slightest. Colourful walls, full of potted plants, his cat weaving a line through the hero’s legs.

“Don’t say a word,” the villains snaps. “Get me some water.”

“A please wouldn’t kill you.” And then, once the hero has disappeared into the kitchen, “Jesus Christ, [Villain], you went out with something on the hob?”

Oh. Maybe this fever is eating away at his brain more than the villain thought. “Ha, totally forgot about that,” he mumbles. “Oops.”

The hero reappears from the kitchen with his deepest frown of the evening, a glass of water in one hand and an electric fan in the other. The glass gets shoved into the villain’s hands before the hero sets the fan on a side table and turns it on.

The breeze is divine. The villain fumbles with his pocket for a moment to grab the medicine he bought, cursing at the fiddly packaging. The box gets plucked from his hands, and the hero snaps it open in one easy move and drops a pair of painkillers into the villain’s palm.

“Good lord,” the hero says faintly as the villain carefully takes the pills, one by one. “You’re a mess.”

The water is smooth on the villain’s sandpaper throat, only ruined slightly by the disgusting rasp of the painkillers. “Thank you for your kind words,” he manages after a moment. “You can go now.”

The hero glances back at the kitchen, then down to the box in his hand, and the villain hates that he can see the train of thought chugging through his nemesis’s head.

“I’d better not,” the hero says eventually. “I’ll stay.”

Goddamn heroes and their weird moral compass. The villain settles down with a sigh—this is going to be a long week.