#There are many others I intended to read but have since forgotten

[darkmuffinstudios]

Was bored and decided to create a silly little one-shot of Errormare for @inkywellcrow 🤭

Who knows, I might get more motivation to make more parts, I might not haha

Baking One-Shot (Errormare) (1.7k words)

Darkxsoulzyxcaliberx

Dream’s birthday (and by extension, Nightmare’s) was only a few days away, and the two most dastardly villains of the multiverse were in the middle of making something for it.

You see, after many decades of struggle, the two guardians grew weary of the constant back-and-forth and had since settled on a truce; No more bloodshed and no more overbearing war meetings. After so long, however, the two had long since forgotten times of peace. It was nothing more than echoes of what could have been, as well as what once was… So, as always in their relationship, Nightmare decided to be the first to extend one of many olive branches that will occur down the line.

To show a sign of good faith and to celebrate the occasion, Nightmare had his boys come up with gift ideas that they would give to his brother. The dark king had hoped that, whatever the gifts may be, that the action alone would show that he intended to support this truce and to keep friendly relations with his other half.

But asking a band of miscreants and murderers was a bad decision in hindsight, and so after many, MANY days of brainstorming, he eventually caved to Horror’s insistence on a birthday cake.

Which brings us to the present…

“Error, you’re whisking batter, not pummeling it into submission.” Nightmare scolded lightly. He wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing, trying not to get too irritated at how sloppy of a job his partner was doing.

“This is stupid.” Error grumbled.

“Error— slower, slower.”

“Don’t— !” His body locked up at Nightmare’s complaining, and he drastically slowed down his pace to a glaringly slow tempo. He gave Nightmare a frustrated look, to which the king easily brushed off. “Don’t tell me what to do. I read the recipe too.”

“Uh huh.” Nightmare deadpanned, setting a metal tray on the counter. “You're also as blind as a bat without your glasses, my dear.”

“They would have just got in the way.” Error huffed. After a few more mixes, he decided that surely was enough of that, and he dropped the bowl into the counter with a loud CLANK. “There. Done mixing.”

Nightmare rubbed his temples. What was that method of reducing stress? Counting back from five? Whatever it was, it surely wasn’t working as well as he had hoped. “Please don’t slam the bowl down.”

“Mmhm.” Error leaned against the counter, dismissive.

For his own mental (and Error’s physical) wellbeing, Nightmare opted to ignore him for a little while. Once he sprayed down the baking pan, he glanced over Error’s work. There was still some dry clumps of the batter mix floating around, but he wasn’t going to correct any of it since he knows how much his partner loves to throw his tantrums. Besides, Dream has been a pain in his ass for decades— the least he can do is crunch on some raw flour to save him from future headaches.

Carefully, he lifted the bowl and poured the mixture into the baking tin. Using a tentacle, he grabbed a spatula he set out beforehand to scrape any excess, and quietly put the bowl down. He gave Error a mild look.

Error met his gaze and paused, looking to either side of himself. “… What?”

“That’s how you put a bowl down. Silently.” Nightmare said, his voice dripping honey and tar.

“Oh, fuck you.” Error griped, rolling his eyes so over dramatically that his head went with it. Nightmare couldn’t help but smile at how stupid he could be.

After making his point, he walked over to the oven with the pan. After opening it with a tentacle (fashioned with a cute little baking mitten), he placed the pan inside and shut it with his hip. Making note of the time, he finally allowed himself to slump against the counter.

Nightmare looked up at the ceiling. How the hell does Horror do this every single day? Willingly?? He couldn’t even imagine how difficult it would be to order his men around such a small space, never mind how destructive all of them already are. Just the thought started to give him a headache…

“So,” Error started. “Why didn’t you ask your uh…” He thought for a moment, his body glitching a little from the effort.

“Horror?” Nightmare offered.

“Yeah— the big, freaky guy— to do this for you? Doesn’t he do this stuff already?”

Nightmare sighed. “… Well… Monster food is magic—”

“Uh. Yeah— I know.”

“I know that you know—“

“Then why say it—?”

Nightmare turned and glared at him. “Just let me talk!” Error held up his hands defensively, glaring right back at him for a moment, before Nightmare eventually continued.

“Well, because monster food is made of magic, then cooking monster food involves magic too. It incorporates the chef’s intent, and can communicate unspoken feelings through each bite.” Nightmare idly messed with one of the spoons on the counter, staring at the oven glass as he spoke. “To put it simply, it has to be made by me. I may not be the best at baking, but he will understand and appreciate the gesture anyways. He is that kind of guy, unfortunately.” He scoffed.

“So why drag me into this?” Error groused. “I couldn’t care less about making ‘Mr.Sunshine’ feel any better than he already feels.”

“Oh.” Nightmare turned to flash a smug look at Error. “Because I didn’t want to suffer alone.”

Error stared at Nightmare. For a long, long moment. A quiet, high-pitched sound began to come from Error’s body— the telltale sign that he was starting to crash. “You’re joking.”

Nightmare shrugged. “Am I?”

Error grabbed the whisk from the counter, chucking it with all his strength at Nightmare. “YOU ASS!! I COULD HAVE LEFT AT ANY TIME?!?”

The king chuckled, letting the whisk hit his shoulder. “Of course you could have. You weren’t obligated to do any of this.”

Error threw his arms around, already hellbent on destroying the kitchen. He ripped the toaster from its electrical socket, threatening to throw it on the ground when Nightmare continued. “But you stayed because you love me.”

That got Error to freeze in place. He stared at Nightmare, bewildered for a few seconds, before slowly lowering the toaster onto the counter. “… Whatever.” He mumbled, stewing.

Nightmare smiled at Error’s obvious admission of defeat, finding himself slowly walking over to him. He stopped a good few feet away, settling on leaning against the counter once more. “You love me, and wanted to help me because you loved me.” He teased lightly.

Error bristled. “I will leave!”

“But then I’d be so sad if you did.” Nightmare touched his own chest, right over where his apple soul would be. “All alone… abandoned…”

Error huffed, crossing his arms. “Good! Feel bad!! Feel bad for tormenting me for HOURS while I slaved away in this kitchen for you!!”

“It was only an hour, dear.” Nightmare chuckled.

“NUH UH!! You’re wrong!!” Error scowled, swinging an arm out to the side and ripping a portal open to a random, unsuspecting world. He gestured wildly to the setting sun. “See!! HOURS!! It’s already growing dark!!”

Nightmare rolled his eye. “Mmhm.” He knew he wasn’t winning this fight.

Error smiled triumphantly, leaning a little closer to Nightmare. The portal fizzled next to them, disappearing soon after. “Apologize.”

Nightmare raised a metaphorical eyebrow at Error. “For what?”

“For being mean and awful and terrible!” Error demanded, counting on his fingers as he went.

Nightmare rolled his eye for the second time. “Mmmmmmno. I don’t think I will.”

Error leaned back, pouting now. “Asshole.”

Nightmare sighed. A brief moment of silence grew between them as they waited for the cake to bake before Nightmare sighed again, shoulder sagging. He looked at the clock hanging on the far wall of the kitchen, then back at the oven glass. The cake wasn’t rising at all.

“… Do you think he will like it?”

Error didn’t look at Nightmare, arms still crossed. After another beat of silence, Error’s shoulders sagged a little and he quietly responded. “What do you mean.”

Another beat of silence. Error didn’t like it. He turned back to glance at Nightmare, only to see the other have his hands folded against his chest in a sort-of self hug. His tentacles were curled inward on themselves, and Nightmare hadn’t looked up once from the oven glass.

It bugged Error. He tried again, softer. “What... do you mean by that?” Nightmare sighed again, a third time, and it was starting to get to Error. He shook his head. “No one hates chocolate cake. If I find out he does, I’m throwing him.”

“Not the cake.” Nightmare answered quietly, though he did smile a little at Error’s threat. The spectacle of the destroyer of worlds tossing his brother like a football was amusing, to say the least. He gestured vaguely, trying to find the right words. “My… message.”

“Message?” Error echoed, clearly confused.

“My intent.” Nightmare tried instead. “It’s… I want this to go well. I want this to be our first steps in making up with one another, and I tried to put as much as I could into this cake… I tried to not fill it with…” he sighed, the fourth time. “… with my lingering feelings of the past.”

Nightmare raised a hand. “I’m certain I didn’t, and I know this won’t make up for everything that has happened between us… but…” He slowly brought his hand back towards himself, back to where it was wrapped around his chest. “I don’t know… I lack the proper words at the moment.”

Not that Error needed all of the words to understand. He thought a little bit before he spoke. “That’s why you asked me to help you with this.” The dots started connecting more in his head as he turned to Nightmare. “You didn’t want to do this alone.”

Nightmare considered Error’s words. “… I suppose I didn’t.”

Error stared at Nightmare, trying to get maybe just a little bit more out of him, before turning to look back at the oven. “… I think he’ll like it.”

“You think so?” Nightmare’s voice sounded uncertain.

“Yeah.” Error shrugged. “He is that kind of guy, like you said.”

Nightmare smiled a little. “I guess you’re right.”

[ean-sovukau]

I've been reading many posts about Danny being the Ghost King, Jazz being Queen Mother, Dan redemption, Dani being his daughter, Danny and his clones, summonings, hilarious assumptions and so on. So, I thought why not combine them.

A new Ruler of the Infinite Realms has been chosen and all realms can feel the changes. But not everyone is okay with that because it has been a few millennia since the Tyrant King was sealed and there's suddenly this new ruler that they absolutely have no info on. That won't do for them.

So after countless hours of searching, scrying, seance and not so great attempts at summoning, the finally found a very old spell, written in on the wall of an ancient temple that they can barely read or translate, that have a slight higher chance of success. A spell that can reveal the royal succession lines of the Infinite Realms's throne. So naturally people fought amongst each other to have it for themselves and some of it got lost in translation or destroyed.

But the spell still works, not like how they want it or how the original spell intended to work, but it worked nonetheless so nobody think anything was amiss.

Of course, John Constantine got a version of the spell and had to share it with the rest of JL. The spell he got however only give him the barest bones of the succession lineage such as Royal Hierarchy, Royal Titles, Given Titles, Chosen Name and picture of that they look like. And since John is British the spell use the British royal hierarchy as template, meaning instead of conquest through combat, they think it's bloodline.

Most of the lineage are missing since the rulers were either ended and erased or forgotten, so the only thing that was clear was from Pariah Dark and Kronos (which is a shock for Diana) and downwards. So imagine their surprise when they look at the picture under current King of the Infinite Realms and see a being that looks like a teenage boy looking back at them. They were again shocked when looking below the new king and see a list of deceased male heirs with only one surviving princess.

Who is King Phantom?

[actiniumwrites]

Just saw your event and first of all congrats on your milestone, you deserve it and many many more!! <3 If you'll allow me, I'd like to send in a request as well: I'd like to pick bookstore + citrine + clear quartz + moonstone for Alhaitham

synopsis: you run into your ex boyfriend at your favorite bookstore six months after your break up

with the prompts: warmth and comfort, healing from hurt, and new beginnings !

characters: alhaitham x gn!reader

wc: 644

warnings: exes to lovers (??), modern au, breakups, a pinch of angst, alhaitham sucks at reading fiction

notes: this is part of my 2.5k followers event! omg thank you so much, dust! i’m so happy you participated, and i love the prompts, i think it was really fun to write <3

“Next,” a monotone voice calls out amidst the calm atmosphere of your favorite bookstore: Avidya Books. You fidget with the hardcover book that sits tightly in your left hand as you dreadfully drag your body up to the counter.

You slide the book onto the counter with a little more force than intended, a grimace on your face as you eagerly avoid eye contact with the man standing before you. Blue and orange eyes linger on your figure before a light scoff escapes him, “What is this?”

You cough into your arm, eyes glancing back and forth between the digital clock on the wall beside you and the face you very much wished you would never have to see again, “It’s a book you lent me…I need to return it.”

“And you came here?” he deadpans.

“Well, um,” you stutter, shifting your weight onto your other foot, “yeah, I mean, it has the bookstore label on it…and I don’t know where you live anymore…since well, you know.”

Alhaitham squints his eyes at you, almost like he’s trying to analyze your every move. Just like he always did.

At least he hasn’t changed much.

“And what exactly is your reason for returning it?”

“I didn’t like it,” you state simply, “too boring for me.”

His lips part in shock and his eyebrows furrow, “What? How? You do realize this is one of the greatest works of literature to ever exist right?”

“That’s extremely subjective,” you argue, crossing your arms, “you of all people should know that.”

“Okay,” he surrenders, but you know it’s only an act. Alhaitham always tried to find ways to prove you wrong, even over the smallest things. It was one of the many faults that resulted in the demise of your relationship, “What about it was boring to you?”

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and shake your head, “For starters, the plot lacked substance. A majority of the characters were the only thing carrying the story, however, many of the others were underdeveloped or forgotten about entirely. Not to mention, the author lacks an understanding of what real dialogue sounds like. I mean, c’mon! The guy sounds like he’s never even talked to someone in real life before!”

“It isn’t like you talk to many people either,” he retorts.

You scoff, “Oh, yeah? Like you’re any better. You barely even have friends! Poor Kaveh can’t shut up about how tired he is of you ganging up on him.”

“So you guys still talk about me then?” He cuts in before you can say anything else. It’s less of a question and more of a statement, and you can’t bring yourself to say he’s wrong.

You talked about him…a lot. Six months had passed and you still weren’t over him, as much as you didn’t want to admit it.

Your eyes focus themselves back on the same wall as before and Alhaitham takes the hint as he quietly slides the book into the counter behind him. “I still talk about you too,” he admits quietly when he turns back around, a serious tone in his voice, “Kaveh’s sick of hearing it, but then I remind him of his lack of a love life and he shuts up.”

A small laugh falls from your lips, “God, you are so mean.”

“I’m just being honest,” he states arrogantly, a small smirk pulling at the sides of his mouth.

Your eyes linger on his for a second before you glance down at the counter, “I still have another book of yours, you know?”

Alhaitham raises a brow, “Oh? Well I suppose you’ll have to return it me somehow. You know how much I value those.”

You hum and shoot him a smile, “If you meet me for coffee on Saturday, I can return it to you then.”

“Saturday it is.”

[kkami-writes]

Devil's Advocate - Chapter Three. cw. none wc. 1.2k + 10 SS

Introductions had been brief and you tried your best to remember them, repeating the names over and over in your head, which was what you were doing now while laid in your new bed. The room was small but rather cozy, just a singular bed and desk, nothing else occupying the space and you briefly wondered who had lived in here before. 

Glancing at the clock it read 4am, the last two hours since you had said goodnight had been a blur, much like time usually was for you when you had nothing to do (which was most of the time). While you didn’t need to sleep, you still loved to close your eyes and let the hours pass by - but with your thoughts bouncing around in your head you know you won’t be able to get any rest. So instead, you decide to at least spend some of your time wisely, moving out of your new room to explore the rest of their little apartment.

In order to make less noise you had taken off your heels. If you were honest, you hated them. You were clumsy enough without them, the amount of times you had almost broken an ankle is far too many to count. Walking around, you noticed that their place is rather big, enough to fit all of them comfortably with a nice kitchen area with three fridges. You briefly wonder why they would need three, but with eight boys they probably ate a lot. Still, it made you laugh at the fact they had three whole ass fridges. 

The shared living space had a large black leather couch sitting in front of a TV. It wasn’t the cleanest space with scattered boxes around but it wasn’t terrible, and honestly you were surprised it was rather put together for eight boys who looked around college age. 

Not feeling like confining yourself up in your new room, it was a little too depressing to be in to be honest, just the bed and desk being your only company. Instead, you decide to just chill on the couch, which was a lot more comfy than you thought. Hours were spent like this, just mindlessly scrolling through your phone and you don’t even notice when the sun slowly starts to come up.

When the first boy wakes up he’s dragging himself out of his room, yawning loudly before he makes eye contact with you. He seems shocked to see you just chilling on the couch in their living room, and perhaps you think he’s forgotten that you were here, hoping that last night had just been a nightmare. 

You smile a little awkwardly at him, greeting him a good morning as you check the time. 7:30. Damn, now you feel really bad for partially being the reason they had gotten less sleep than normal. Hopefully they could get some more rest later. Your voice seems to finally stir him out of his sleepy haze as he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. Chan. You’re pretty sure that’s what his name was, the redhead. 

“Ah, right. Um. Good morning,” 

“You’re up early. I’m surprised,”

“Yeah, we have a lot of work to do right now so unfortunately, no sleeping in for us. Sorry- I don’t really have time to talk right now, I need to get the other boys up and ready,” You simply nod your head in understanding, waving him off and telling him you were fine, to not worry about the demon in his living room. Chan laughs a little awkwardly before sliding into another room and you can hear the other person letting out an annoyed groan. 

It doesn’t take long for the apartment to become a chaotic mess, boys scrambling in and out of doors, trying to complete their morning routines. They look like a bunch of ants, all scattered around and yelling at each other. It’s entertaining to say the least but you can spot several of them with dark circles, easily seeing how tired they are as they drag themselves across their dorm. 

With a sigh, you move to get up, heading towards their kitchen as you search for a coffee machine. You decide to make yourself somewhat useful if they weren’t going to use you for your “intended purpose”. While tempting, you didn’t want to just sit there like an idiot, doing nothing. It was the least you could do for now. 

One of them is by the door, putting on his shoes and adjusting the bag he has over his shoulder. He’s just about to leave before you call out to him and he looks up at you with a slightly confused face, even as you push the to-go cup into his hands. 

“Um…Hyunjin? Right?”  He nods, slightly surprised that you had even remembered his name and honestly, you are too. “It’s just uh, coffee. I just thought maybe you’d guys would like some. Um, you don’t have to take it of course if you don’t want any,” You’re rambling now so you shut yourself up. To be honest you don’t know what you’re doing, this situation is so out of your depth and it was making you act weird. You were good for one thing, and one thing only and it certainly wasn’t making coffee for 8 tired college(?) students. 

Before you can take it away, he’s grabbing onto the cup and subsequently your hands.

“Ah no! It’s fine! Thank you, I’ll take it,” Hyunjin is smiling at you and for a second you can’t help but think that his smile is almost prettier than he is. His eyes dart down your figure for a moment before he’s flushing, ears turning pink as he averts his eyes. It’s then you realize that you’re still clad in your normal clothes, which is just the lingerie you had been wearing the night before. Still, you find it rather endearing that he can’t look at you now without staring at your chest, which in his defense is completely on display. 

“Um! Thanks again! Ok, I gotta go, bye!” He’s quick to throw himself out the door, a small tittering laugh leaves your lips at his antics. You end up giving each boy a cup of coffee, each of them thanking you in return with little to no eye contact. You briefly wonder if you should change - or keep it on just to tease them. 

Chan is the last one out of the door, thanking you for the coffee but politely refused since he didn’t prefer the drink. 

“So, uh- I know things haven’t really been explained yet and hopefully we can soon but um. The gist for now is please do not leave the apartment. It would be really bad if people were to see you,” You hadn’t been expecting to be let out of the house of course, but the way he emphasizes this fact makes you curious. You let it go for now, assuming you’d get answers to everything later. 

“No problem, you got it boss. Oh, here’s my number by the way. Text or call if you need anything, I can be there in a second,” You hand him a piece of paper with your number as you quickly summon your phone into existence, waving it around. Chan wasn’t sure if he would ever get used to the small magic you could do, much less come to terms with having an actual demon in the dorms.

[thecorruptus]

Do you ever wonder why Mickey changes so much over the years?

Wanna know more about the silly au I have made recently about this concept? I'll put the lore dump under the read more!!

The whole au revolves a more horrific explanation as to how and why Mickey gains so many redesigns with the upcoming years, and what happens to each old design when replaced with the new one !!

( The concept is lightly inspired off of this video. )

To give a brief rundown, Mickey has starred in shorts since his creation, yet still changed even then. But what really happens to those Mickey designs that go unused? Well, the answer may not be the one you want.

Each Mickey is created with an intended purpose for their shorts, and when a new design rolls in, the old one must be discarded, as two Mickeys cannot exist at once unless given extremely specific circumstances. How are they discarded?

It's a race agaisnt time. Each one of them has their own run time before finally a dark yet twisted entity, most of them know as the Black Rabbit, finds them to eliminate them, via Killing them and disposing of the body to make room for the newest Mickey Mouse.

This is the Black Rabbit design for the au. A familiar face and person that is often unrecognizable either way.

Unfortunately, thanks to a flaw in this process, the current Mickey may remember it's past lives, and how it may have died brutally to the Black Rabbit.

This all dates back as far as Plane Crazy.

Each one of these Mickey designs has to a certain degree attempted to escape Death itself, or delay it, yet none have been successful.

Cut to the present, and two designs have found themselves in excruciating circumstances as it stands.

Paul Radish (Mickey Shorts) Mick,

and the Dreamlight Valley Mick.

Both the designs to have stood alive the longest, but as it turns out, a new Disney product is on it's way that offers the cartoon Mouse a new design.

It's at this time they're already both aware of what may happen, but one of them won't go down without a fight.

As both remember their previous lives, Dreamlight advises agaisnt fighting agaisnt a cycle clearly made in their disfavor, yet it doesn't feel fair, does it? Why should he die, even if he is forgotten or an unused design or concept? Why must another dictate how long he should get to live?

As much as Mickey Shorts' Mick may want to delay the inevitable, it won't stop the Black Rabbit from reaching him eventually. He hopes he can one day find a way to break this twisted cycle.

The cycle that plagued each one of his past lives and perhaps even many other toons in his position.

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

Bedridden Blues

Summary: a mission gone wrong gives your brain all the right conditions to fall back into a bad place. Luckily, Jeff takes notice and does all he can to support you.

Word Count: 1937 Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader Warnings: Thoughts of depression and anxiety, brief mention of Reader not eating. Request: Could you maybe do one where reader is going through a hard time, they have anxiety and depression and such, and Jeff senses it and comforts the reader ?? Lots of fluff, if you can💗 A/N: it's been a while, sorry! I've moved house and been to a few different countries since the last post, then ended up dealing with the mental health issues R has here but without a Jeff to support me. But I'm back now so it's all good!

Part of The Jeff Fictional Universe (you don’t need to read the others to understand)

You jolted awake to the heavy slam of your bedroom door and a shaking room. The blinding lights of unclosed curtains forced your eyes shut again, but you didn’t need them, you knew already that a slammed door was a precursor to Jeff barging in and, sure enough, the pattering of feet soon greeted your ears, growing louder as he approached. In your mind, Jeff stood beside you – where his footsteps had placed him – waiting impatiently for you to wake up.

"Mrrrr," the land shark whined then, as if confirming your visualisation.

You opened your eyes slowly to see a blurry, silver blob taking up most of your sightline – he was closer than you’d thought. As Jeff came into focus, you noticed he held a small white sheet of paper in his mouth, so propped yourself up to get a proper look. 

Or, at least, you intended to…

In your newly awoken state, you’d forgotten the injuries sustained on your most recent mission and soon collapsed back onto the mattress with a yelp, your arm still pulsing with painful shocks. Jeff came to your side in an instant, nudging inquisitively at the damaged limbs, then rolling you off of them and onto your back.

“Thanks buddy,” you sighed, “what’ve you got there?”

Jeff traversed the bed, erasing all the work he’d done to make you comfortable by trampling right over your stomach, then spat the paper onto your chest. You looked down at the paper. Then at Jeff. He sat by your side looking proudly between you and the paper, which would have been all well and good if he hadn’t settled right on your good arm, pinning it to the bed with his full body weight. Your gaze shifted to your other hand; it unfortunately hadn’t healed in the 5 minutes since you’d woken up, so your forearm and hand remained in a solid plaster cast, lacking the dexterity to even hold the paper.

Jeff nudged it again.

“I’m a bit stuck here, can you just read it out to me?”

“Mrrrrr. Mrrr, mrrrr, mrrrr!”

“Natasha wrote that?”

“Mrrrr!”

Jeff maintained eye contact for almost 10 seconds as you pondered Natasha’s message, until your brain finally kicked into gear. “Wait, you can’t read. That was all made up?”

“Mrrrr,” Jeff confirmed, sheepishly burying his head into your side.

He was too cute to scold, and really, you should have known they weren’t Natasha’s words when all the requests involved keeping Jeff happy – including driving him to the beach while half your limbs were still non-functional. 

“Alright, tip the paper towards me, I can probably read it like this.” Jeff obliged your request. “We do have to work on your reading though, what if you want to read a Best Man speech for mine and Natasha’s wedding? Or would you rather be a flower boy?”

“Mrrrr.”

“Okay, yeah, we’ll work on the details later. Letter first.”

For all the hassle it took to read it, the note itself was fairly simple. Natasha had been called on a mission, she hadn’t wanted to wake you, so she wrote a note and asked Jeff to deliver it once you were awake. She seemingly hadn’t predicted that Jeff would nearly break the door down and wake you just to complete his task, but that was just one of his many quirks.

Unfortunately, your brain had quirks too, and they weren’t as easy to brush off as Jeff’s door slamming habit. Your whole chest seemed to sink into itself as you read, the familiar twisting of your stomach accompanying a racing mind. Worrying for Natasha wasn't something new, but it rarely reached this extent. Lately, fear for her safety seemed to be all that could occupy your mind; even when she'd be sat right beside you, thoughts of what could go wrong flooded your brain without reprieve.

You blamed the injury. Memories of the mission were scattered, but you remembered the explosion, the pain, and the fear in Natasha's eyes. You would do everything in your power to never experience what she felt, and ensure she never went through the same again, but with your line of work, what could be done?

Memories of being trapped under the rubble flooded your brain, even when you clenched your eyes shut trying to think of anything else, all your brain conjured were alternative scenarios, which choices might have caused a different outcome? But after flashes of every possible ending, you came to the same realisation that you'd known on the field. 

There was no better outcome. 

Nobody has known about the explosive, and there was no way for anyone to have found out. In every mission play through, someone had to be in your position at the time of explosion, doing your job and paying the price. And that terrified you.

Suddenly, your face was engulfed in a wetness that brought you sharply back to your senses. One hand instantly gripped the sheets beneath you until your gaze settled on the culprit; Jeff sat by your side with a new look of pride on his expression, the tongue which had just been on your face still lolled out of his mouth. When your eyes met his, he moved into action, climbing onto your chest.

"Hey again Jeff," you said, then wrapped the shark in your arms as best you could with a broken arm. He mumbled softly, then splayed out his limbs to lay flat on your chest; his weight provided an unexpected comfort.

You had been so caught up in your brain that the physical reactions seemed almost secondary, but Jeff's reminder that the real world existed made you take note. There was the uncomfortable awareness of your beating pulse, hurried breaths, and your hand still clenched into a fist around the sheets. 

A light huff from Jeff refocused your attention on him. He resettled (still on your chest), then closed his eyes to sleep, his whole body rising and falling thanks to his slow, deep breaths.

Slowly, you released your grasp of the covers and moved your hand to hover above Jeff; he seemed so peaceful, it made you almost guilty to disturb him while you dealt with racing thoughts and an agitated existence. Then, the land shark shifted, it was as if he'd sensed your anguish and taken action himself, since he shifted his body to the side just enough that your hand now rested on his midsection. You smiled.

Jeff's chest expanded as he breathed air in, and it moved your hand with it. You watched as it stayed stationary for several seconds, before eventually moving in with Jeff's deflated form. That became a challenge – the next 5 minutes passed where your only thought was Jeff's breathing, everything else falling away while you mimicked Jeff's slow and sleepy inhalations. 

And for the first time in a long time, you coped without distractions. Jeff alone had you feeling that bit better.

You noticed too late the shift in your mood.

Jeff came and went, the light outside faded; time moved on. You hardly noticed it at all. You weren't caught up on other thoughts, or even nervous like you had been in the morning, there was just… nothing. What was there to do in a day? The injury meant no work, no exercise, nothing strenuous at all. And Natasha was gone, so nobody expected you up and out of bed. 

You had no reason to get up and hardly any energy either, so in bed you stayed. Sleep took its hold on you for brief patches of the day, but the rest was spent with glazed eyes, half-focused on various parts of the room. It wasn't until Jeff interrupted (again) in the late afternoon that things began to change.

Jeff was not one to judge an unproductive day in bed. After all, they were his speciality! A good day for the land shark involved sleeping for at least 75% of it. But for you, that behaviour was unusual, and Jeff knew it; he also knew that it was dinner time, and the 25% of the day he allocated to 'eating (and other)' was in danger if you didn't get up and feed him. So he took matters into his own hands.

He pushed the door open with a light headbutt and asked, "mrrrr?" You shifted in bed, but ultimately gave no reply, so he stepped closer and pawed at your bedsheets. 

"I know, Jeff, I know," you said. Though you carried so much resignation in your tone that the land shark hurried to reassess the situation; your smile was weak, eyes bloodshot and swollen, and your arm buckled as you tried to rise yourself out of bed. 

"Mrrr!" he squealed quickly, before he hopped onto the bed and pushed you to lie back down with a more controlled "mrrrr". He could handle this.

"That was weird," you said to yourself once Jeff walked out; his pleas for food had been cut short by his U-turn into looking after himself. The speed of his turnabout did concern you, and as his guardian you knew you should be getting up and ensuring he was okay, but for some reason – be it laziness or belief in your land shark – you trusted his judgement. 

The bed enveloped you again and by the time the bangs and crashes started from the kitchen, your brain was tuned out.

Small nudges from Jeff roused you for a third time that day, but he didn't care to loiter this time. As soon as you displayed signs of being awake, he dragged the covers off of you for the chill of the room to rouse you fully, before he nipped at your leg.

"Ow, Jeff, it's broken, remember?"

Jeff gave an apologetic murmur, but continued tapping at the floor and turning in a clear sign for you to follow him. He did his best to help as you got up, pushing your crutch closer and offering his body as support (which might have been more useful if he was any taller than your shin), then led you through the house, looking back every few seconds to check you were still okay.

Various guesses of where Jeff may be leading you to were discarded as the walk continued; the route was long, and only came to its conclusion on the far side of your home, in the dining room. Two dishes caught your eye, laid side-by-side on a table that was properly set with cutlery, glasses, and a whole choice of drinks – anything you would need to just sit down and enjoy the meal. It was only then that the hunger hit you; you hadn’t even noticed the mealtimes pass you by while you lay in bed, you hadn’t even felt like a person enough to remember them, but clearly Jeff had taken note.

Your jaw hung open when you looked at Jeff, who grinned proudly up at you. “Did you make this?”

“Mrrrr!”

“How did you ev-” In looking around to take in the scene, you suddenly noticed the opening to the kitchen, and the mountains of stacked plates, pans, and utensils lining the previously empty sink. Jeff could cook, you concluded, but he couldn’t clean. “I’ll deal with that later,” you told him.

Jeff rushed ahead to pull out a chair for you, making it easier for you to hop over and take your seat, but you had one thing to do first: you pulled out your phone and photographed the scene (excluding the dirty dishes), then sent it to Natasha.

*Y/N: Our boy can cook 🥹*

A/N: That was a lot harder to write than I thought it would be and I'm still not sure it all sounds good. But I can recommend @sunsetscarlett's emotional support jeff and @wolferine's Our Secret as great fics with similar themes if you want to read more! :))

Jeff taglist: @unexpected-character​ @wolferine

[magicaloneandmystery]

easy to love. (p.p. x reader)

pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x reader

summary: Peter is relentlessly there to help pick you up when you are too tired to do the same.

warnings: heavy negative self-talk, allusions to depression, please don't read this if you are not comfortable with either of these. additionally, my inbox and messages are always open if you ever want to vent about anything

word count: about 850 words

a/n: if you are suffering or even slightly down today, take this as your reminder that you are loved, cared for, and you matter. sending so many hugs to all of your way <3

(gif not mine, credits to the owner/creator)

you had been in bed since morning and it was 2 pm now. 

suffice it to say, it was a bad day.

you were drowning in your thoughts, unable to distinguish the light on the surface from the darkness of the depths. you were not sure if there was any surface, to be honest.

you had forgotten to call in from your work in the haze that surrounded you but left a message about an hour earlier, a simple text to your boss that read apologies for not coming in today, feeling a bit sick. 

bless her heart, you were only met with a text saying are you okay? that was left on read.

you should answer that soon.

there were several other texts you were yet to reply to, the most glaring ones being from Peter.

good morning sweetheart was the first one.

you okay? after a few hours of no reply.

y/n talk to me, please? was the last one.

you wanted to talk to him so bad, but it was much easier staying there and pretending the world didn’t exist for as long as you could, as long as it was viable. 

you didn’t realise it was way later than 2 pm when you suddenly turned in your bed to see the darkened skies. you supposed time flies when all you do is lie beneath your covers thinking about all the reasons you couldn’t get up. (more often than not coming up with none.)

you jumped when a knock sounded on your window but didn’t remove the blanket from your face to see who it was. you knew who it was, you were just hoping he left you alone.

alas, that hope went out the window (no pun intended) when he stepped into your room. you wished you had turned the lock on them but in your state last night it didn’t matter whether they were on or not. no amount of locks could ensure that you felt safe.

“you should not leave your windows unlocked like that, sweetheart,” he said, noticing the piles of clothes in two places. apart from that, though, your room was organised like it usually was. not a lot of people could’ve said something was wrong by looking at your room.

“I know you’re awake, it’s fine if you don’t wanna talk to me,” he sighed. he was disappointed in you. you should get up and talk to him. greet him, at least. he came all this way just for you. and here you are, lying there like you don’t want it, want him. ungrateful brat. “did you have something to eat?"

you wondered why he bothered trying.

“y/n,” he sat down next to you. his ungloved hand came into your view as he tucked away the blanket a bit. you realised he wasn’t wearing his suit. did he not come here after his patrol?

you’re disrupting spider-man too. selfish selfish selfish.

“babe,” he started, stroking your cheek. “just give me a simple nod if you want me here. I’ll be gone if you don’t.”

tears were pooling in your eyes. you wanted him gone but more than that, you knew you needed him here. it was unfair to still need him for anything.

gathering all your strength, you nodded once.

his fingers gently wiped away the tears that managed to spill over. 

"I love you," he said, before leaning down and kissing your forehead. your eyes shut tightly, undeserving of his love, his beauty, his warmth. "I'm gonna clean this room a little, okay? I must say, you've managed it quite well already."

you knew he was lying but it made the pressure holding you down lift a little. maybe you were not a complete failure.

a few minutes of his cleaning had put some life back into your body, making it easier to breathe in and out. you moved into a sitting position by your bed, legs hanging off its side.

"hey, bug," Peter grinned, triumph swimming in his eyes. "wanna eat something?"

you nodded after some time, contemplating.

"something light? I was thinking of some soup."

you nodded again.

"be right back!" he skipped out of the room, already familiar with your apartment enough to know where all the ingredients were kept.

you listened to the clanging of the utensils for some time, head bent in the doorway’s direction. slowly, you stretched your legs and decided to join him. walking seemed to take tremendous effort but when you saw Peter, his back to you, stirring the pot on your stove, making food for you. the realisation felt heavy but it seemed to make your steps lighter all the same. maybe you could be loved.

“hello there,” he called out to you. his senses were already attuned to you, and his heart fluttered wildly when he realised you were joining him in the kitchen. he stretched his hand out to you, sighing when your body slotted itself to his side as you both stared at the boiling soup.

as your head rested on his shoulder, eyes fixated forward, you realised it’s very easy to love Peter Parker. sometimes, that was all you needed. a reminder you could love.

phew, thanks for reading if you did!! comments and reblogs are much appreciated :) please do remember to check in with your closed ones and to never be afraid to ask for help.

[doctorprofessorsong]

Destiel Fic Recs!!

Here We May Be Free by FriendofCarlotta @friendofcarlotta (39k, Explicit)

As you probably know, I love a monster Cas fic and this is a fun one. A mermaid AU with a lot of great lore.

When Dean was a kid, John took them on an ill-advised and unsuccessful beach trip. But Dean has never forgotten the moment of peace he felt in the water, and the half glimpse that he might not be alone there. It's a moment etched in his mind, and one he tried to drunkenly recreate years ago while Sam was at Stanford with no success. But finding himself struggling with what to do next now that their father and the yellow eyed demon are gone, Dean decides it's time to return to the beach in the hope that he can still reclaim that moment.

Dean and Cas have a delightfully magnetic relationship which makes this one immensely readable. There is also a truly fantastic brother dynamic (including Sam's sometimes clunky attempts to draw Dean out while missing the big picture). And Cas has some delightful mermaidy idiosyncrasies.

Suptober Day 10: Enchanted by tiamatv (9k, Teen)

Frog prince Castiel!! What else do you need?

The is a cute little one shot where Cas gets turned into a frog by a curse. It has all the fun tropes that go along with this genre. Frog!Cas snuggling with Dean and being cared for by Dean, Dean being able to use his words with Frog!Cas a bit better, awkward animal biology, and a healthy dose of humor. It's absolute perfection.

Highly recommend for a light little read. Low angst, fun froggy facts and a good time for all.

We Don’t Talk About It by luckshiptoshore @luckshiptoshore (6.5k, Teen)

This is a short little one shot, and it's SUCH a fun one. The concept is just such a delight.

Cas comes back wrong. Specifically, Cas comes back with angel aphasia-like condition where everything he says is a muddled mix of ancient languages instead of English as he intends.

Except…Dean would swear he seems to be able to understand him even though he doesn't speak Aramaic/Enochian/Ecclesiastical)/Latin.

There are some absolutely hilarious moments of Dr. Sexy appreciation and there is something extremely soft about Dean understanding Cas. There's a delightful element of somehow understanding each other better in different languages. It's funny and sweet and just just great read.

Dear Western Red Cedar #2409 by MittenWraith @mittensmorgul (63k, Mature)

This one is a fluffy little pine fest fic with so many soft moments. Dean is a park ranger with a crush on the local librarian, Cas. He's also secretly a successful writer. Between his long absences for work and his secret, he doesn't have much time for dating. Besides, he's pretty sure Cas isn't interested.

Cas, for his part, is very interested and very lonely. Desperate for some contact with anyone, he pours his feelings out in a missive to a stranger monitoring a reporting email for local flora. It's a delightful 2plt with some great epistolary elements. The characterization is soft and fluffy and the pining is soft and longing. It has all the elements of a great comfort fic.

no body, no crime by big_wet_cas_eyes @big-wet-cas-eyes (31k, Explicit)

This is technically a murder husbands fic, so know that going in, but it's a surprisingly *soft* one where it's more like a hurt/comfort with a side of murder. Being an enthusiast of both, this one managed to strike a great chord with me personally.

Sam and Cas have been friends since college and regardless of what else is going on in their lives, they always make time to get together once a week for dinner. But a week after Sam confesses he thinks his wife, Ruby, may be having an affair, he's greeted not by Sam, but Dean who informs him Cas is missing. Despondent, they turn to each other for comfort and find much more.

The emotional and physical (not just sexual) intimacy between Dean and Cas is absolutely lovely in this fic, and you find yourself rooting for them to be happy.

Stalk, Marry, Kill by Fullvoid @casgore (23k, Explicit plus timestamps)

On the other end of the murder husbands spectrum is this delightfully depraved fic. Dean is married to a famous author, Aaron, but he's restless and unhappy with his life until a smoking hot new co-worker walks into his engineering firm.

Dean and Cas are about to do a bad thing. Well several bad things. In great and dirty detail. This is a classic Void fic with obsessive undertones and bad behavior, so mind the tags. But if this is your thing, it's a great one.

Check out my other fic recs at @riversrecs

@varlysca @naturallyathief @greatbigbugger @fandoms-and-things @you-cant-spell-subtext-without @deanwasalwaysbi @fellshish @valleydean @raspberry-tooth @the15yearhatecrime @sunglassesmish

Ask to be added to my tag list!

[munsonsreputation]

All Of The Girls You've Loved Before

steve harrington x fem!reader (modern day au!!! they dance to taylor at the end!!!!)

word count: [3.1K] I did my best to proof read

warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, established relationship, cursing, talks about previous relationships, basically a bunch of fucking sappy fluff!!!

summary: steve knows he was never the best boyfriend, but things start to change when you and him finally get together thanks to fate. but what happens when steve's past insecurities come out? You do what you do best and let him know that his past made him the the person you've fallen for.

Steve Harrington was a dream come true.

Your dream come true to be exact.

Everyone in Hawkins knew Steven Harrington and all the girls fawned over him, and all the boys despised him. A sort of blessing and curse that was cast upon him ever since he knew what romantic feelings were, even if it was not what it seemed.

He wasn’t going to play dumb and act as if his rap sheet was holy, because it was far from that. His sheet of paper was filled with girls’ names, spanning from years of dating and meaningless flings. Despite the crowded paper, the feeling of it was empty. Those relationships and flings were shallow and superficial, based on nothing more than physical attraction and a desire for popularity.

But his other halves weren’t solely to blame.

Steve knew he wasn’t the best partner out there. There had been many arguments, broken promises, and hurtful words exchanged in his past relationships. He knew that he had made mistakes in the past, but he had never intended to hurt anyone. He had just been young and foolish, trying to figure out who he was and what he wanted in life.

He had always tried to be a good partner, but it seemed like no matter what he did, he always fell short. He couldn’t read their emotions. Didn’t say the right things. Was too pushy or sometimes not pushy enough. Spoke too little about his emotions or not enough. It was a losing battle with his past relationships.

In all honestly, for a long time, Steve Harrington thought he was incapable of ever finding someone to truly settle down with. It was hard to imagine that anyone could see past his past mistakes and flaws and accept him for who he was.

All that Steve had ever known was late night arguments over the phone and pity apologies in person so that he and his partners wouldn’t have to go to bed angry with one another—yet he awoke next to them, still feeling so alone.

Maybe he was just incapable of being a good boyfriend and maybe he was never really worthy of love.

Not until you swept right in.

“Stevie!” you blurted, poking his chin from where your head was resting in his lap.

He braved through his haze of thoughts as your voice echoed in his ears. The movie playing on the TV in front of you two had been long forgotten as he slipped into his pondering and now you who had noticed his glazed over eyes not reacting to anything on the screen.

You poked again, fingers probing into his slight stubble, before he glanced down at you and smiled widely. His big hands, coming down to brush the stray hairs away from your face and forehead, tucking them behind your ears as he stared at you fondly.

You stared right back into his eyes, forgetting why you had caught his attention the moment you both slipped into what was a cloudy lavender-like-haze that you wanted to forever stay in without a care for the outside world.

Somewhere along the lines, your name had found its way onto a fresh set of Steve’s pages in his life. One where your name was the only one written on the page with a big heart around it.

How he was able to get so lucky? He would never know. Weirdly enough, you and Steve weren’t strangers at all. You two were fully aware of each other’s existence but never did he ever think he’d be able to snag a girl like you.

The girl who didn’t care about sneaking into town with the “heartbreak prince” on your arm.

Someone who could fill his life with so much complexity yet simplicity all at once.

The one he would enjoy killing time with doing whatever it was, just if he got to make sure he could hold your hand at any given moment

You’d never forget signing all the girls’ yearbooks when the semester was finally over. An assortment of little notes and doodles littering the back pages of the book. And you’d never fail to see his name written in blue ink in all of them. Everyone treating him like Hawkins’ very own heart-throb, yearning for his little signature just so they could draw teeny tiny red hearts around it and brag to their sisters, mothers, and any other person who was dying to get a slice of Steve Harrington.

You and Steve had spent four years at the same high school together.

Sharing the same hallways.

Sharing mutual acquaintances.

Sharing the same teachers.

The same stage at graduation.

The same small town.

For the longest time, you both were like parallel lines, moving with time and living separate lives, just merely aware of each other’s existence was all. But somehow, a few weeks after graduation, you two ended sharing one more thing with each other before the fuse lit.

A room full of half-drunk graduates drinking beer out of plastic cups and screw top rosé.

For whatever reason you both decided to want to drink that cheapass wine, it set off a chain reaction once your hands brushed against each others and it was like the stars finally aligning and fate took its course.

A conversation you two shared, laughing about how awful it must have tasted so you could have it, but no, you wanted him to have it. Which then led to him grabbing the entire bottle and two plastic cups, asking you to follow him up on the roof where you two sat and drank what now seemed like the priceless wine that started it all.

He was fucking lucky, and he was fully aware of that.

You knew about the girls he’d been seen with before, hearing the rumors whispered in the hallways as he and whoever the hell he was dating at the time passed by and the jealous ones saying she was the lucky one.

It was a cycle.

The girls’ he was seeing being the lucky one’s ones until they weren’t anymore.

Until they’d be in the bathroom surrounded by their girlfriends and consoled after Steve didn’t say “I love you” back.

Or until they realized that Steve wasn’t just going to magically drop the kids he babysat for years for a girl he’d only been talking to for weeks.

And especially until they realized that Steve Harrington wasn’t only looks, but a guy who needed to feel loved—truly loved.

“Is this a staring contest or are we still gawking at each other like lovey dovey idiots?”

Your voice broke the barrier of thoughts again as you giggled. Your eyes squinting closed with each laugh you let out as your chest bubbling—a sight Steve would never get tired of admiring.

“You’re a fucking dream, you know that?” Steve smirked, taking your cheeks in his hands and crouching down to give you a kiss.

You hummed against his partly chapped lips, opening your eyes when he pulled away and retreated to back back against the plush cushions of the couch. Yet his fingers twirled at the ends of your hair, making spirals and letting them fall loosely.

“What kind of dream? Like a nightmare or like a wet one?” Your eyebrows wiggled flirtatiously as he cackled, shaking his head as you giggled some more and finally sat up.

Your head instantly found a home on his shoulder as you threw your legs across his lap. His arms encasing you in the warmth and scent of him. Everything that Steve was.

“A really, really good one, baby. One that I cannot even believe I was able to think up.”

Your bottom lip jutted out affectionately, nudging his cheek with your chin as he looked down at you and never let up on his smile, “You’re too sweet, Stevie.”

Steve thinks you’re the sweetest girl in the fucking universe.

You gave him hope, a whole pocket of it, that maybe just maybe he was capable of love with the right person.

You.

Everything was different with you. Steve had finally found someone who he cared about deeply, someone who he wanted to be a better person for. He knew that he had made mistakes in the past, but he was determined to make things right for you. He wanted to show you how much he cared, and how much he was willing to change for the better.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He proposed, watching the way you thought for a second, so many different reasons flowing through your head.

You shrugged, playing with the fabric of his t-shirt and looking down shyly as you spoke, “I don’t know…all I know is that you swept me off my feet and you haven’t let me down since.”

“Aren’t you such a romantic?” He teased, poking your side making your squeal before playfully smacking his chest with a pout.

“Seriously,” He added, “Sometimes I pinch myself because I can’t believe you’re actually here with me.”

With a look of vulnerability in his eyes, you were slightly taken aback. Sure you and Steve would always brag about how lucky you both were to have each other, but you just knew that this was coming from a different place…a different part of Steve, one where you could instantly catch the insecurity and doubt in his voice.

"What do you mean?" you urged gently, reaching out to take his hand, and look up to meet his eyes, yet now he looked down.

Steve hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “I mean…I don’t know why you would ever want to be with me. I’ve messed up so many times in the past, and I’m still trying to figuring things out.”

He finally looked up at you, brows furrowed as he tried to elaborate, “I—I just feel like I’m always doing something wrong, or that I’m not enough for you. And…I just don’t want to fuck up what we have because of how I treated other girls in the past.”

To be quite honest, you didn’t care about the stories that had been circulating about Steve’s past relationships, because you knew a different version of Steve now. You could tell that he genuinely cared about you, and that he was willing to put in the effort to make things work between you two.

You saw beyond his popularity and charm, and recognized the kind, caring person that he was underneath it all. Right off the bat, Steve was honest with you. He told you about how exhausted he was with meaningless relationships. That he wanted to move past that stage in his life and actually have a connection with someone, you.

He was everything that you ever wanted and you wanted him to see himself the way that you saw him—as a kind, caring person who was worthy of love and affection.

“You do deserve me, Steve,” you said firmly, looking him directly in the eye. “I’m with you because I see the person that you are and not the person you think you’re defined by because of the past.”

As you sat on the couch with Steve, staring into his own unsure eyes, you remember how, when you were younger, you used to think that love was supposed to be crazy and wild. You believed that the more dramatic and intense the relationship, the more you were in love. You thought that fights were an indication of passion and that intense emotions were proof of how much you cared for each other.

But you were so wrong, and you wished you realized that back then, but you knew better now and now you were here with better…Steve.

Your ex-boyfriends used to make you cry and left you hiding away in bathrooms not knowing how to deal with the constant conflict. They had made you feel small and insignificant, and you had thought at the time that it was a normal part of being in a relationship.

You remember how the fights would go on and on without any resolution. You both would talk in circles, never truly hearing each other out, and then one of you would storm out without a word, leaving the issue unresolved. It was exhausting, and you always yearned for something more.

And then you had the privilege and honor of meeting Steve Harrington. The guy who changed the playing field and showed you, for the first time, what love felt like. It wasn’t crazy or wild, but steady and supportive.

You remembered those horrible feelings of the past and you needed Steve to know that the past worries would be defeated soon.

“Remember Ryan?”

His face turned up in confusion and disugst, “Ryan? Your ex-boyfriend? Yeah—wait, why’re we talking about Ryan?”

You laughed a bit, shaking your head as you urged him to listen.

“Ryan was a dick. He made me cry all the time and…I used to think that it was normal. That it was ok.” You paused, taking a deep breath. “He made me feel so unlovable, Steve. Like I would never measure up to be a good girlfriend. Ever.”

Steve squeezed your hand, sensing the importance of your story, “I never thought that I was ever going to be loved because of how he made me feel…but I was so wrong, because I’m sitting here with you.”

Steve looked at you for a long moment, and you could see the doubt slowly melting away from his eyes. “Screw Ryan” he mumbled, making you throw your head back and laugh, nodding as he smiled lightly.

“Yeah, screw him.” You agreed, “And you wanna know something else?”

He hummed, grazing his thumbs across your knuckles as he brought them closer to his lips and laid a kiss to your delicate skin, “What, baby?”

“I’m so thankful for all of the girls you loved before, because they all led you to me.”

You weren’t going to lie, even though you accepted that Steve had quite the track record, it still was intimidating to know he’d been with so many girls—worried that you might just be a name written in his blank space. It might have made you insecure or doubtful in the beginning, but Steve had done more than prove that not only was he a changed man, but that all of those experiences led him right to you.

That all this time, those storms and breakdowns would somehow lead you both together. Wrapping up all of your shared hurt and mistakes in barbed wire in order to understand and sympathize with your respective pasts. That all this time, those parallel lines were ribbons of strings tying you both together.

Steve looks at you, his eyes full of surprise and admiration. “Really?” he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You smile at him, feeling the warmth of his hand in yours as you nodded, “Every single girl you’ve ever loved made you the man that you are now,” you continue. “And I’m in love with you more than any other girl ever was. I see all of the amazing qualities that you have, and I know that they came from the struggles you faced in the past.”

Steve’s eyes crinkle with joy as he takes your face in his hands. Every ounce of doubt he had within himself dissipating with every moment and breath he got to spend here with you. That he would spend forever on this couch delving into both of your feelings if it meant getting the chance to fall even more deeply and madly in love with you than he already was.

Never in a million years did he ever think that he’d be sitting here with you. He knew that his younger self would be racing up and down the hallways of his childhood home and celebrating at the top of his lungs if he knew that he’d be getting to spend every passing second with the girl of his dreams and someone who accepted him for him.

His mother, despite their distant relationship, always told him to never let the right girl slip out of his life because of the wrong decisions. That he would know when he was in love and that when he knew, he best treat her with kindness and stay loyal to her for eternity. That love could last a lifetime if you treat it right.

“You know, I’ve never really loved any other girl except you?” He’s looking back and forth between your eyes, making sure you understand, “Sure, I thought I did at the time, but looking back now, it was nothing compared to what I feel for you.”

Teenage love was nothing compared to what you and Steve had. There was something enchanting and magical that you two had that made it so everything else in the past was lost in the past. That there was no harm in saying goodbye to people who damaged or made you feel less than, because that only led you one step closer to what you always wanted and who you always deserved.

Steve’s words hit you hard, and you can feel your heart swelling with love and gratitude. You lean in and plant a soft kiss on his lips, savoring the sweetness of the moment.

“I love you so much, baby,” you whisper, your forehead pressed against his.

“I love you too, more than anything,” he replies, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

You can feel the warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart against your chest, and it’s like nothing else in the world matters. You know that you’ve found your forever person that you’re going to spend forever with.

“Wanna dance?” you say, breaking the silence.

Steve looks at you with affection, and you can see a soft smile spreading across his face before he gets up, offering you his hand. “Let’s dance, baby.”

“Hey Google, play “Lover” by Taylor Swift.” You announced, grinning back at him as the familiar tune fills the living room of the house that you and Steve had made yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, and he pulls you close, swaying gently to the music. As you dance, you feel the love and happiness that you have for each other. The two of you stayed there, lost in each other’s embrace, enjoying the simple pleasure of being together.

He leaned in to give you a gentle kiss, feeling grateful for the chance to be with someone who makes him feel so loved and understood. You both know that love isn’t always easy, but with each other, it feels like it’s worth all the effort.

You know that this moment, and this love, is exactly how forever should feel.

A/N: all credits to taylor swift for writing and releasing this beautiful song!!!! this song is so fucking steve coded that I literally had to run and make this and funny enough finished it in one sitting!!! let me know what you think and please interact by reblogging, commenting, adding tags, and liking!!! it's greatly appreciated!! 🧸💘💫

taglist (if you would like to be added just leave a comment!): @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world

[lucyav13]

Dimentio

A more deep investigation about this emblematic character.

His name is a pun on "dementia" and "dimension". Like Mario and Mimi, he can flip between dimensions, but he can also manipulate them (an ability he shares with Merloo).

A theory says that the surviving son of the pixl inventor is his ancestor.

In the english version, Tippi seems to inmediatly recognize Dimentio upon encountering first. However, in the original Japanese script, her reaction is more ambiguous, afirmaning that Dimentio is one of the Count's minions.

Dimentio originally intended for Dimension D to multiply his power by 256. Upon winning the battle against him, the player character claims that the dimension made them more powerful as well, leaving everyone's stats unchanged relative to each other. This may be a homage to 8-bit storage capacity: 8-bit integers have 256 possible values, so adding 256 (although not multiplying by it) will overflow the integer and result in no net change.

 The void is absent from the background of this dimension.

According to Carson, Dimentio approached the Count on his own, wishing to join him. While he was turned down once, he was hired after Bleck read about someone having a similar role in the Dark Prognosticus...

My theory: Dimentio is impure. But not the son of Blumiere or Timapni. The tribe of darkness knew the power and monstrosity of the impures thanks to him. As the tribe saw how dangerous it was and the consequences it would bring, he was left forgotten along with his parents. Maybe that's why he's an impure. For this reason, Timpani, in one of his many visits, was able to see him and his family being thrown out of the tribe. Since he has floating hands and teleportation powers, just like the Count Bleck.

But his mask doesn't let us see how he really is...

Aditional information:

Catch Card: 195

HP Max: 80

Attack: 4

Defense:

Score: 8000

Card Description: Dimentio is Count Bleck's dimension-bending mercenary. The question is, do psycho jesters get good benefits?

Tattle: That's Dimentio... A magician who works for Count Bleck... He's like an evil clown... He'll use many magic tricks, including making doubles of himself... It's hard to get a read on this suspicious character...

Quotes:

"And so I arrive, like a sudden windstorm at a kindergarten picnic!"

"Ah ha ha. Finally, you arrive!"

"Yes, yes, no one likes the icky stuff... Yessss... A perfect world... Sounds magical!..."

"It would be so very DULL if your journey ended so easily... Instead, it ends with...magic!"

"It is truly enchanting to finally meet my hapless victims."

"You must be Bowser. I knew the moment I saw the flailing nubbins you call arms."

"Well met, lady. Your beauty is as refreshing as a slap to the face on a crisp winter day!"

"At last, the hero... I know of you from the festival of hair that dances upon your lip!"

"Now we must duel, like two gleaming banjos on a moonlit stoop!"

"Can you pierce this...illusion?"

"Your blows are like miniature jackhammers wielded by tiny, angry road workers!"

"The next time we meet, you will feast on a deadly eight-course meal!"

"I am not violent by nature, you know. I'd prefer to settle this peacefully, in fact."

"Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Again, for dramatic effect! AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA."

"You've proven to be worthy foes in the past, so I'm not going to make it easy."

"I'm saying that you no longer have value to me, so I'm ending your games."

"And so I strike, like an unseen dodgeball at an echoing gymnasium!"

"Ciao!"

The above text is from the Super Mario Wiki and is available under a Creative Commons license. Attribution must be provided through a list of authors or a link back to the original article. Source: https://www.mariowiki.com/Dimentio

(A:N) If you want to share any theory that you have had, let me know in the comments and I will rate your theory in a part of this book. Bye!

[navybrat817]

Somewhere I Belong

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Artist!Female Reader Summary: When your insecurities get the best of you, Bucky tells you what you need to hear. Word Count: Almost 1.9k Warnings: Angst, angst with a happy ending, feels, insecurities, crying, established relationship, Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?) A/N: Hey, lovelies! This fic is very personal to me as some of the things discussed are things that I have felt. If you read this and you have as well, I hope you feel seen and know that you matter. Beta read by the beautiful @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog, but any and all mistakes are my own. Banners by the talented @maysdigitalarts Moodboard by the incredible @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

Focus on the good.

Setting the paintbrush down, a frown crossed your face as you began to do the exact opposite. It wasn’t that you didn’t paint the ocean well. It was beautiful because you created it. Therefore, there was nothing wrong with it in your eyes. It still didn’t stop you from trying to pick it apart.  Especially since you ended up painting dark, crashing waves instead of the peaceful ocean you intended.

Gotta go where the muse takes me. Maybe one day I won’t be my worst critic.

You forced yourself to take one step back and then another as you worked your way toward your phone. The nagging voice in your mind whispered, “Don’t do it!�� as you picked it up and opened one of your social apps. Like an addict trying to satisfy a craving, your finger swiped mindlessly along the screen. And the longer you kept at it, the more empty you began to feel with each passing image and text.

It wasn’t that you meant to be insecure. You were merely human. Naturally, there would be days where you felt out of sorts. Lately, it was more than that each time you looked at a photo or post. It was as if every word out of your mouth went unheard when you decided to share. Where you used to be a shining light, you were now a shadow that people scrolled by to look at others. A forgotten outline that would fade once the sun went down.

Shut it off.

You sniffled as you tucked your phone in your purse. You supposed you should have been used to the irrational insecurities by now. Of couse, there were going to be times when you went days or weeks without talking to a few loved ones. And it wasn’t a slight against you if they talked to others during that time. If only that negative voice would stop nagging you.

Do I not have a place here anymore?

Looking at your painting one last time, you knew you had to get out of your apartment. If only to breathe in the fresh air and get a change of scenery. It wasn’t just that. There was someone you needed to see. Someone who could cut through your mind when it got too loud.

The love of your life.

Bucky.

He planned to work some more on his boat at the marina today. He enjoyed working with his hands and the water brought him a sense of calm when his own mind felt clouded. Your boyfriend had been through hell and back. Not only had he fought in wars, he had his very head scrambled and erased. Monsters turned him into a weapon but, after many trials and tribulations, he was free.

Now he has me.

Each time you soothed him after a nightmare was like a wake-up call that he had it worse and you should be thankful for what you had. It wasn’t fair for him to shoulder the burden of your insecurities, especially when yours were so small in comparison. He didn’t like you thinking that way. The ups and downs of life weren’t meant to be a competition. The feelings you experienced were valid, no matter how small.

It wasn’t long before you arrived at the marina, your footsteps soft as you walked across the deck. There was a good chance Bucky heard you anyway, the closer you got to his boat. The experiments forced upon him during the war and his captivity enchanced some of his senses and reflexes, which included his hearing. That meant he could also hear your pounding heart as you did your best not to have a complete breakdown. 

You adjusted the strap on your shoulder as you stopped to admire him. Your boyfriend, to put it simply, was built like a brickhouse. Over 6 feet tall, his biceps strained against the fabric of his blue henley. The shirt matched both his eyes and some of the calm water nearby. His brows pinched in concentration as he used the pliers against one of the pipes, a sense of pride filled you as you watched him at work. The sun beat down on him, but there wasn’t a drop of sweat in sight as he set the tool down. You longed to run your fingers through his short, dark hair to ground you.

Stop gawking.

Tears swam in your eyes the moment Bucky flashed a smile your way. The moment he noticed, his smile slipped away. In the blink of an eye, he hoisted himself over the side of the boat and landed silently on the deck. The man had the agility of a cat and the very thought of how amazing he was had you blubbering as he rushed over.

“Who am I killing, Beauty?” Bucky asked as he ran his hands along your arms. For as strong as he was, his touch was featherlight against your skin. And the nickname almost made your lips curl in a smile. “Give me a name.”

The question was so ridiculous that you began to laugh a little through the tears, your chest shaking as it bubbled up. The truth was, he probably would kill someone if they hurt you. You would never force more blood to stain his hands. “No one. It’s just me. It’s nothing.”

“It isn’t nothing if you’re crying.”

How could you tell the man who had his mind messed with that you didn’t want him to forget about you, like you felt so many others had? “I just wanted a reminder that I matter to someone.”

The corners of his mouth shifted downward as he slipped his arms around you, your lower lip quivering as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. That always centered you. “Oh, doll. You matter. You matter to so many people.”

“So why do I feel like I don’t belong anymore? Why do I feel like I don’t matter? Should I even bother doing what I do?”

“You want to know what I think or do you want me to tell you what you want to hear?”

“What you think, please,” you begged. He didn’t need to placate you or your feelings.

“Okay, but I know you don’t want to hear this,” he began, taking a slow, deep breath as his hands glided along your back. “I think, lately, you’ve been basing your sense of self-worth on the approval of others.”

You flinched in his hold like he struck you. “I-I don’t. I haven’t,” you argued, but your words held no substance. 

“You haven’t? How many times have I told you to put your phone down after you’ve shared one of your paintings and you didn’t get the feedback you expected? And how many times have you asked me what’s ‘wrong’ with what you created because of that?”

Examining your feelings as he pulled you closer, he brought up a good point. When you didn’t receive the feedback you wanted on your art, it hurt. If your friends or “cheerleaders” in life faded, you felt as if you did something wrong. But Bucky was your constant, the opposite of the hurt you let fester inside.

“God, I’m pathetic,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut. You were too embarrassed to look at him.

“Hey, look at me,” he urged, bringing his hands to your face. It took a second for you to open your eyes, searching his face for a look of pity. It wasn’t there. “You are not pathetic. It isn’t pathetic to want validation. But if you’re doing something at the expense of your happiness and wellbeing, you need to ask yourself why you’re doing it in the first place.”

“I love art. I love what I do. That matters to me.”

Your voice was thick with emotion, but the weight on your chest began to slowly lift away. You loved creating and expressing yourself. That was why you began to do it in the first place. Did you lose yourself along the way or was the void in your life different now?

“And that’s what matters to me. That you’re doing something you love,” he swore, his thumbs wiping the salty tears from your cheeks. “I just don’t want it to make you feel this way.”

You nodded in understanding. “Neither do I,” you said. Maybe re-evaluating your priorities could be part of the key. And, of course, remembering the roots of your passion. “And the sense of belonging?” 

“It’s your mind convincing you that you don’t when it’s the furthest thing from the truth,” he said, swallowing as he brushed away another tear. “You’d be amazed how many people you care about feel the same way.”

“Like you?” 

He shook his head, as if he sensed that you were deflecting. “This isn’t about me.”

“Bucky, do you have any idea how much you matter? The impact you’ve made on people around you? You’re a hero. You have no idea. And no matter what, you’ll always have a place with me.”

He smiled as your eyes widened. You certainly weren’t a hero, but you had a place because you belonged with him. “Did I just see the lightbulb go off in your head?”

“Shut up,” you broke into a grin as you playfully shoved at his chest. He didn’t even budge. 

“It’s true though. Those days when my thoughts are too much? I look to you and the beauty you’ve put out there. It has done more for me than you can imagine,” he explained as your eyes welled up again. You gave him a gift without even knowing. “Maybe I need to do a better job expressing that.”

“You don’t,” you assured him, rubbing his arms this time. “I need to stop overthinking.”

“I like it when you think. And I like that you trust a crazy old man like me to give you advice,” he winked, brushing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. “How are you feeling?”

“Not completely okay, but better than I felt before I got here.”

“Let’s make a deal,” he suggested.

“Shoot.”

“You shut your phone off for the rest of the afternoon and I’ll take you for a ride. Just let this be for now. If you want to talk more about it, we can. If not, we’ll just enjoy the view and each other’s company. Can you do that?” 

You nodded, letting him pluck your phone from your purse to turn it off. 

“And if you’re really good, I’ll let you take an extra ride,” he winked.

“Smooth, Bucky, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He snuck in another chaste kiss as he took your hand in his. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you whispered, allowing him to pull you toward the boat.

Some people passed so swiftly through your life that you wondered if you ever made any kind of impact. You weren’t a perfect person. Everyone was bound to make mistakes. The people who were meant to stick around would. Even the ones who didn’t were still in a chapter of your life for a reason.

Today, you didn’t need validation. Because you mattered to the man who stole your heart. You found somewhere to belong. And that was more than enough to finally quiet the voice in your head. 

*****

Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

[theographos]

Why Aliens feels off in Tales of Arcadia

Don't get me wrong, I really like Aja, Krel and Varvatos. I even think that 3Below was quite good, even if i'm not a sci-fi fan at all (i even managed to fall asleep in front of every Star Wars ever, and not with any other movie). But good doesn't mean good in terms of storytelling. Because after all 3Below is set in the Tales of Arcadia franchise, and let's just say they don't 100% fit in it.

So why is that ?

1. Trollhunters is based on a book, and the book doesn't contain any aliens.

Well from what I have researched the book doesn't contain any trace of wizards too. I will also add that I haven't read the original book, I just made some researches about its content on the internet.

For those who don't know, Trollhunters : Tales of Arcadia is a loose adaptation of a book written by Guillermo Del Toro and Daniel Kraus, called Trollhunters. It's an adaptation similar to How to Train Your Dragon : The characters are present, the surnatural/fantasy aspect of the book is also present but everything else is changed. I even saw that Steve dies in the book, so glad they didn't take that route.

And i'm not part of the people who screams and cry everytime there is any changes from a book to a movie, To be deeply honest with you all I studied Cinema and English litterature in highschool and my final projet for those two subjects was to talk about how some changes in book adaptations are a good idea.

But it just shows that writer did not have any basic material for it. They had to create it all from scraps, and I feel like the first season of Trollhunters was already out when they thought of aliens, so they decided to connect it howerver they could. Which leads us to our second point.

2. Aliens don't really have any deep connections with humans, trolls or wizards.

Wizards and trolls fought against Gumm gumms, wizards have created many magical relics that Trolls uses, and as we saw with Hisirdoux wizards have an habit of dealing with trolls species. The interactions are already present, they have a deep history between them, shares problems and common knowledge.

Aliens apparently shook hands long time ago on Earth and were gone for the rest of the time, so except an old memory forgotten by almost everyone, they don't really have a pre existing history tying them to the different races in the story.

Trolls and wizards are based on things we already know off. I mean we have countless myths and legends about them already, but there is a bit more to that.

Horseshoe are items to uncover if someone is a changeling, trolls love to eat socks, which ties into the forever myth of "why am I always missing a sock", you think that racoons made your trashcan fall but it could have been gobelins, is that a black cat or just a small dragon etc. You really have the aspect that you interact with the "underworld" on a day to day basis without being actually aware of, and that goes deeper than just "oh this random person is just a troll in disguise".

Aliens don't really have that, like no one except the army used alien technology before 3Below, and still it was in secret so we can't really copy that to our everyday life as easily as the previous examples that I made.

Earth is about Trolls, humans, demi-gods and wizards. And it also happened to have aliens once in a while, but nothing much about it. And that leads us to our last point.

3. The plot has no space for Aliens.

Since the whole story is about earth and the fate of earth, we don't really have space for Aliens in the plot (no puns intended). We can literally see that with the 3Below plot : gumm gumms are something completly unrelated to the plot, it just happens in the back while the main plot is happening. 3Below is more of a spin-off or a "What If?" kind of show than a continuation of the main plot.

3Below is an interlude, an easter egg for the fans. You barely see the main cast, the main cast barely acknowledge the presence of the trio in their own show.

See I wouldn't be criticizing it if it was considered as such in the franchise. A side-story that doesn't impact the plot, but for fan service it will appear in the final movie so that everyone has their conclusion.

But it's not the case, it is seen as an important part of the story by the studio. It has never been advertised as something else than an active part of Tales of Arcadia.

If they truly wanted something about aliens, it should have been as a side story, a spin off.

But as a major part of the franchise, it doesn't deserve its spot and you can feel it.

[aheathen-conceivably]

🎶 You made me happy every single day, but now, I've got to go away 🎶

Things between Josephine and Giorgio had only grown more tense since she went back to work at the club. He knew that her business had gone under, but she still wouldn’t talk about it with him or anyone other than Zelda.

So every silent answer she gave or glare in his direction was perceived as her inability to rely on him, to simply trust him and let down her guard. In turn, she read his need for dependence as a desire to weaken her, and only continued to push him further away.

Yet still they chased after each other, both threatening to be the first to walk out the door but neither ever really intending to.

Even their usual cycles of fights and apologies had grown tainted by the widening rift and deepening distrust between them. It was as though neither of them really knew if any touch was genuine any longer, or if it was just a way to temporarily end what seemed like infinite hostility with no other solution.

Josephine’s nights weren’t any better. Being back at the club was like being in a prison of her mother’s design, trapped in some sort of distended version of the past where she had lost all of her autonomy again. She could never understand how Antoine worked here; even worse, how he continued to live in the same rooms above where she had so many memories.

But night after night she went into work, expertly pouring whiskey into crystal goblets and eyeing each and every man who spoke to her or any other woman, suspicious of their intentions and sick of their drunken glares.

That night had been no different, so mind-numbingly irritating that she had completely forgotten it was she and Gio’s four year anniversary. She had promised him that she would be home in time for them to have a midnight supper together; only now it was closer to daybreak than midnight, and she hoped he would be well asleep rather than up waiting for her, disappointed.

When she entered the apartment she knew that her hopes were dashed, as she could hear soft music coming from the gramophone in the kitchen. She entered the room to find Giorgio at the table, the half melted candles barely illuminating the pained impatience on his face.

She sat across from him, immediately donning her most apologetic countenance as she explained, “Gio, I’m so very sorry. The club ran late and I had to stay behind the bar…”

Giorgio gestured for quiet, “I’m not here to fight with you, Josephine. I’m here to tell you, to celebrate really…well, I bought a farm out West.”

Josephine shut her eyes to try and comprehend his words. Even at their worst, she never thought that he would leave her in the night, buy a house in some far-flung place and run halfway across the country.

“Josephine, before you answer, please listen. You have too much love and pride to see the writing on the wall, but my love, you must accept what is happening. Most of the old clubs are set for demolition; and you can hide it all you want but I know what happened with your business.”

Pride darkened Josephine’s expression but Gio held up his hand and spoke before she could, “Save your venom, Josephine. I told you I’m not here to fight. I’m serious about this, and it’s already done. It isn’t just this city you see…”

He explained exactly what he had said to Antoine, pointedly leaving out his own involvement with the city’s criminal underworld. Josephine was stunned into silence for the first time in her life. An economic crash? Leave New Orleans? For a bloody farm at that? All she had ever known was New Orleans; but New Orleans had failed her.

Giorgio reached across the table to grab her hand and pull her out of her reveries. His eyes and his grip held a thousand apologies, a concentrated effort of reconciliation for everything that had gone wrong between them, “Josephine, mi raccomando, my love, will you come with me?”

[sofiasjornal]

My (many) questions after HOFAS

While writing my HOFAS review, I was thinking about the different perspectives and POVs the new book could have, since we are finally leaving Bryce and Hunt's story. Selfishly, I would love the focus to shift to Lidia and Ruhn. Not only because they became my top two favorite characters but because the possibilities for crossovers and connections with the other series are endless. I don't think there's a need, but let me just clarify that this is all speculation! And because I might remember something more in a few days, or weeks, or months, I’ll update this as I go along!

1) Lidia has some kind of connection with Aelin and Mala’s bloodline (she named her son after Brannon, after all!!) and since KoA and ACOSF share the same timeline, and HOFAS is set after ACOSF, Aelin is still very much alive and could somehow connect with Lidia! She seems to have an incredible amount of firepower, the likes of which we only saw with Aelin, so there’s definitely a connection there. And they are both trained assassins, for god's sake! And with the stags! She’s a Terrasen girl, through and through!

But again, how did the fae shifters come to Midgard if Erilea (I don’t think the name of the planet was ever revealed, so let’s stay with Erilea) was never conquered?! Another rift that opened and then closed? Is there any mention on ToG of that? I don’t remember… I might have to read it all again! 

There's also the very interesting context in which Lidia's children were conceived, in a very similar ritual to Calanmai, from the Spring Court (ACOTAR). So how come two of SJM's series come together in Lidia's character?

2) Also, Ruhn and Rhysand would also be an interesting crossover. The similarities between the two go beyond those of Fae, it would be really interesting to explore that. Bryce didn't really explore these similarities when she met Rhysand, I wish she had. We know that Prythian is the home planet of the Fae, but definitely something linking Rhysand and Ruhn together.

Also think about the possibility, if Ruhn is connected or a descendant of Rhys's bloodline and Lidia of Aelin’s, then the two bloodlines are now united! AGAIN, SO MANY POSSIBILITIES, IM GETTING DIZZY!

So in a book where Lidia and Ruhn take center stage, imagine the power of that story!! I’m speechless just thinking about it! 

3) The link between Wyrd and Urd got me thinking! Somewhere in HOSAB, when Bryce went to the under-king and he talked about Urd, when she was not a goddess but a force, “When she was a vat of life, a mother to all, a secret language of the universe?” (Yes I went looking for the quote, my mind is driving me insane). This secret language of the universe, could it be the wyrdmarks?! And if so, remember when Bryce killed Micah in the first CC and Micah said “The language is beyond that of this world. It is the language of universes.” Could Bryce’s tattoo be in wyrdmarks and if so that would mean that the Book of Breathing is also in wyrdmarks! Amren can read those! HOW?! HOW?? And what are wyrdmarks doing in acotar and crescent city?! There’s definitely a connection with ToG! It’s right here!

4) The Valg, the Asteri, the Daglan, the Princes of Hel, and... one hell of a mess, pun intended! By the end of HOFAS, we know that the Asteri and the Daglan are the same thing. I’ve been, however, wondering about the Valg. I don’t believe the Asteri are Valg. They don’t fit the same characteristics. Besides, in ToG is said that the Valg’s home planet was ruled by three kings, a planet made by pain, wind, and darkness, and the Asteri were originally seven and come from a forgotten planet in the cosmos. Besides, the Asteri feed on firstlight and the Valg don’t have that need. So I don’t think there’s a connection there.

However, in ACOMAF, when Bryce is fighting the Stryga and throws a brick in her face, the line reads  “Bone crunched and she roared, black blood spraying.” This always stayed with me because it kept calling the Valg to my memory. The Valg have black blood as well. Also, the death gods feed on life just like the Valg, if I’m not mistaken! So could the death-gods be Valg? Do you know who else has black blood? The Reapers! In HOSAB, when Bryce strikes with the starlight sword it is said “And nothing had ever felt so right, so easy, as plunging the blade into the bony chest of the wounded Reaper. It arced, bellowing, black blood spurting from its withered lips.” So either it is a coincidence that all these creatures have black blood or there’s a connection! And considering the reapers originate from Hel, is there possibly a connection? However, it doesn’t quite make sense, because their home planet was ruled by three kings Erawan, Orcus, and Mantyx (let’s not forget that bitch Maeve). And in Hel, each layer is governed by a different prince, seven in total. So this is where I raise my hands and say I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ where to go from here! 

5) The whole issue of the Viper Queen! When Tharion went to the Viper Queen something’s raised “concern”. First, the blood oath! I only remember something like that being mentioned and talked about in ToG! Tharion was only able to escape because Ithan killed Sigrid and broke the bond! Remember at the end of HOSAB, after Tharion defected and VP ordered him to come back after Cormac’s death? He felt a pull of the bond that he couldn’t resist! Remember how the cadre were all Maeve’s prisoners with that same bond? It’s the same thing! And remember Tharion mentioning that her blood was darker than normal?! 

Feel free to join this mess and give me more theories and your thoughts on all of it! I’m just going to figure all this out! And like I said, as I think of new things I’ll just update this!

[shannonsketches]

I have a headcanon I'm curious about your opinion on if you don't mind, as I've seen many differing opinions on this.

In BotW, Urbosa brings up Nabooru by name, even stating her to be the namesake of Divine Beast Vah Naboris. The Divine Beasts are also believed to be based off of the masks once worn by the ancient Sages, and to me the way the avatars wear the old sage helms when you put on the Divine Helms all but confirms it.

The Nabooru we know and love, I am not sure how likely it is her name alone survived all the way to Hyrule, especially having the ancient part of TotK being over 10,000 years before the Era of the Wilds, and OoT being even further before that (at least as I headcanon it. Hyrule has been destroyed and refounded before. Why couldn't it have happened again?)

That being said, I believe that while the tale of the Sage of Spirit may not have made it to the creation of the Divine Beasts, her name did, often being a beautiful and strong name for young Gerudo. Eventually this name landed upon the young girl who would eventually grow up to harness the very power of the skies, gaining the graces of the newborn kingdom of Hyrule and fighting against her people's corrupted, demonic king, donning a mask that would inspire a machine that embraced her power and then mothering a bloodline of strong matriarchs who would carry her command over lightning in their blood.

Therefore: I believe that the Sage of Lighting from the Era of Myth is named Nabooru, likely unknowingly sharing the name of another great Gerudo hero from a time long forgotten.

That's a great headcanon, and it works well within your framing! And I agree that there's probably been thousands of children named after the original sages. It sounds solid to me!

I haven't read much on the differing headcanons, so I'm in no place to really compare them opinion-wise, as I personally don't place the Wilds Era with the other timelines. It feels to me like a retcon/consolidation of all the games, so I don't try to place it in concurrence, but I salute those of you who do! It's hard work!

This isn't intended to debunk anyone's theory, I'm just gonna ramble about neat things in Game Design real quick lol

I do think there are very distinct and intentional design pulls from Nabooru in the SoL's design that are not (as far as I know) consistent with other Gerudo design, including Riju and Urbosa. Though her design is Completely Different from Nabooru in OoT, there are a lot of very subtle detail references:

Credit to @/sidonisms for the model pull

The most obvious to me is the color of her secret stone: Despite the color for lightning stones in both BotW and TotK being topaz (Ganondorf's favored gem and pre-triforce ability in OoT) and it becoming more of a gold on Riju, this sage's stone is specifically the color of the Spirit token from Ocarina of Time (shown more clearly below). It's also the same shape, but I've dismissed that since they're all the same shape.

She also appears to be one of the few if not the only?? Gerudo with a vertical earring, where most of them wear hoops (also true in OoT! The other Gerudo wear studs like Ganondorf did pre-timeskip -- fun fact, Ganondorf wears hoops in TotK).

While most Gerudo wear an arm band or two, most of them are solid bands. The Sage's, I suspect, is intentionally complex (albeit much more simplified than OoT's) to be reminiscent of Nabooru's. The placement and shape language in her necklace, the placement and stone pattern of her belt, the golden leg braces that only resemble Ganondorf's also imply references to me (only Nabooru and Ganondorf wore the star shaped crests in OoT), and her neon lip color! Which I take to be a reference to Nabooru's original Ganguro Girl design influence.

ALTHOUGH,

It's also very possible that they split Nabooru's aspects into two separate characters; As this woman's high ponytail in a golden cuff, distinctly shaped/colored necklace, and apparent status as Ganondorf's right hand also appear to be direct references to Nabooru:

Maybe it's like Majin Buu and they split her into Nabu and Ru.

Or OOOOH MAYBE it's the SAME character, and it IS a direct reference to OoT Nabooru, since they both have the same eyes and lips and skin tone (and nail polish!), and she just changed her look when she started doubting Ganondorf. I think I just gave myself a new hc, haha, thank you for making me think about this.

ANYWAY!!

For me and my headcanons I feel exactly the same way about the Sage of Lightning that I do about TotK Ganondorf in that -- Yep, that's Nabooru. Also, it's not Nabooru at all. It both is and isn't. It's Naboo-AU-ru.

But my personal hcs aside, I think yours work very well within your framing and make a lot of sense! My opinion is "Yes, Good."

[voltstone]

A YELLOW DRESS FORGOTTEN | TWDG Retelling (Remastered - 2024) MASTER CONTENT POST

Hello! (And hello again to the TWDG fandom. At least, to anyone who remembers this fic.)

I'm VoltageStone. Still a shit uploader. I'm trying, and yes, this is one of the fics that has been in the works for...way too long, but at the same time..., glad I waited for my writing to get better?

This, quite simply, is my love-letter to the games, and to my Clementine. It's the one story I've wanted to get right, time and time again.

Especially since the comics have come out. Even though I've come to the conclusion that the comics are divorced from the games, because it's only one person's Clementine (and an...interesting interpretation of her at that), the comics did pull me away from the games for a little bit there.

But now I'm back. And I do intend to get to Season 4 this time. To finish this.

It'll take time, but I do feel ready now. I really have wanted to write out my Clementine's story, and have something that I can read back on rather than whatever Skybound's doing.

And honestly? While most of this is a self-indulgence thing, and it's because I'm bleeding my heart out here...

I do want more people to write about their Clementines. Cuz like... Maybe if there's enough people doing it, writing about their experiences, and not just the character as a whole... We'd get more enrichment from TWDG as a whole.

For anyone who wants to add on or talk about this, or follow along without having to subscribe to me, this fic will have its own tag (#aydf fic). So. If you're interested in just this, that'll be the place. :D

Anyway, now, for this specific update, this is a master post like the one I did for LYCOS (Wenclair fic). This isn't marked dead dove, but it is still a very...gritty fic. And it has a lot of very heavy themes.

It's a dark fic for different reasons, but a lot of the same. AYDF is what got me into writing gore, body & psychological horror, and the like. That being said, it's...also just a different beast.

Largely because I'm building off of what's in the games, so dead dove doesn't feel as appropriate for this.

Still. Might as well make a post here about its content. Any updates I do will be linked back to this.

So, for those who read this story before, I hope you enjoy, and thanks for sticking around through the years.

To any newcomers, to TWDG or other readers from other fics, I hope you enjoy. :)

-- -- --

Walkers. Muertos. Deadheads. Lurkers... The dead which roamed, they wore many names. Monster was yet another one. Though, Clementine knew most monsters didn't decay. Their hearts still throbbed. Their eyes, still with color. The monsters, still with words to asphyxiate.  Because she was one herself: a monster with fire in her breath, and eyes that burned her own Hell. She drank for her life. She drank to forget.

A thank-you to Telltale, a love-letter to Clementine as a character, and a passion project writing out my Clementine's story. Made by my blood, sweat, tears, and probably also mucous from the tears, but it's sanitized, I promise.

AO3 | FFnet | Wattpad | Quotev | RoyalRoad

Fic Layout:

Ep1 | Between S2 & S3. Ep2-5 | S3. Ep1.5 (Interlude) | S1, Between S1 & S2, Between S2 & S3. Ep6 | Between S2 & S3, Between S3 & S4. Ep7 | Between S3 & S4, S4. Ep8-15 | S4.

General Warnings:

Catharsis, Gore, Extreme/Graphic Violence, Fights, Murder, Horror, Body Horror, Angst, Trauma, a very Cynically Religious Clementine, Raider!Clementine, TWDG retelling (aka, a lot of the dialogue and canon-events will be here, or rewritten), (some, not a lot) Sexual Content (because it's a "growing up" thing not a horny thing, I promise, …and maybe sorta a little bit of how BPD and attachment issues do things), Violentine, a lot of homoeroticism, they are touch starved, Some fairytale symbolism, Louis will be protected and grow tf up.

Mental Health:

Alcoholism, Gambling Addiction, Addiction, Withdrawal, Relapse, Suicide Attempt(s), PTSD, Guilt, Survivor's Guilt, Rehabilitation, Psychosis, Child abuse, Parentification, and how that basically fucks Clementine in the head like a lot, and then A.J too because cycles and trauma, Borderline Personality Disorder, Trauma Trauma Trauma, and you'll never guess, a Clementine who really really really needs help and at least one (1) actual breathing adult in her life.

Oh which reminds me.

Finding guidance in adults who are already very much dead, and please Clementine, would you just bury the corpse?

…okay that's verging on dead dove, but if the game (almost) has an 8-year-old eat a dude's leg, and then a bigger dude get his head smooshed by a salt lick (which tastes gross, I dunno), I think it's still safe.

In Summary:

...okay I may have written a Carver's Clementine by accident bUT it was an ACCIDENT. My hand slipped. She's not evil, just a little demented some days, and bitter on the better ones.

I am half-joking. My hand didn't slip.

She does make the comic's Clementine look like an angel, though. So. There's that.

Anyway, if it's not clear, the tldr is this is my playthrough, and thusly my canon Clementine, just with the story tailored for indulgence and narrative reasons. Cuz. …alcoholism. …and stuff.

Not a great person. Very troubled. But you know. Tis how addiction works.

Hope you enjoy. :) If you see my blood, sweat and tears stained in the writing, no you didn't.