#he really does need a nap

[question-marked]

I dare you to have a nice relaxing nap. :)

Send "I dare you to...." and my muse will HAVE to do whatever you dare them to!

"Oh! Thanks," Edward responded cheerfully. "I have been feeling very fatigued lately, so I do need a nap."

[skunkes]

micro comic with no real point or punchline i just have conversations i wanna draw out sometimes

[littlebitofdnd]

Sandra-Lynn and Sklonda are having a "What Do We Do About Kristen" phone call as we speak

[moeblob]

OC

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Day 9

Deity

*sneezes after downing coffee* Well irl stuff got in the way so I'm way behind my original schedule for these and for Linktober but here we go with another arguably short one, fuelled purely by self indulgence, headcanons, spite against my linguist essays that kept me from keeping to schedule, severe sleep deprivation, a shout out to the Ender Lilies soundtrack and Majora's Mask soundtrack, and Nintendo for not clarifying anything about the lore so I'm snatching what I can and making it my own lol. Look, when you fíxate so much on details the Zelda team doesn't elaborate on you have to fill in the gaps with what you can.

As always can be read as romantic or platonic, technically in a LU context but not explicitly in it by itself.

The Lord of the Mountain liked hearing people sing.

In a way, it wasn’t a surprise, Hylia and the Golden Three each had their ballads and symphonies and minuets, each splendid and with cuts of their divinity in it, Farore was fond of lightning and forest alive minuets, and you could swear Farosh sparked just a bit brighter when one would him the beginnings of the Minuet of the Forest near their spring, Din was fond of boleros, fiery and alive and howling with the echo of flame touching earth that made a shine run through Dinraal’s scales, Nayru, in contrast, was much fonder of blizzard and river quiet serenades, the songs of contemplation at first snow ringing clear when Naydra curled around it’s spring, content to be free of Malice.

And of course Hylia had her ballads and lullabies, perfectly fitting to her display of divinity, of honey days and vast bird like wings, of ambered summers to come and to pass and dazzling solar storms of starlight and sunlight sparking through the human form of her descendants and heroes. So in a way, you weren’t surprised at all that the Lord of the Mountain – Satori, with a familiar touch of londsleite divinity, the hunt of the woodland beasts and diamondscar adoration for the Hero of the Wilds, similar in glory to the Light Spirits petrichor and vermeil fondness for the Hero of the Twilight – liked to listen to people sing. What you were surprised was how it attempted to follow along, it’s head across your lap the second you sat down in the clearing, a gentle hum on back of it’s throat, an owl’s cry and a cicada’s humming and faintly, chirring purring as presses it’s faces into your hands, a gentle request for petting.

It was adorable, even with the faint notes of the chill of clear spring water on winter and the livewire feeling of magic, like holding your hand too close to a flame but not quite touching it.

A low chuckle brushes against the back of your mind, a feeling like biting on ice, the prowl of a wild beast and the build up of lightning and light used to create his blade, the amused affection of a warrior reconvening with their brother in arms, you think you see the bone ivory of the Deity’s hair on the side of your vision, though you know he’s not physically there, ‘He likes you.’

You hum, gently patting behind it’s ears, pushing through the chill, gracefully not mentioning the burning with a smile at the mythic being’s faint chirring, birdsong and the wind through cherry blossoms that sparkle like rose quartz, “Well I quite like him too, I can see where it’s gentleness comes from.”

The ghost of a touch over your hair, the caress of lightning striking over your skin and the hair on the back of your neck pricking up and the crisp cold of winter, the chill of the ending and the flame of a new dawn, of new days, the phantom of magnolias and spring water on your tongue. The fragrance of pine, daffodils and blood soaked lilies on ashen fields on your senses, gentle and careful, marking but not claiming, ‘Only because it’s you, beloved. It’s not something easily given.’

You sigh, shakily composing yourself, you let yourself relax into the phantom sensation. Of hopes and dreams and healed suffering, of the divinity of hunt turned into protection and lightning given form, of tangled timelines and crystalized memories, “I know. It does not change my opinion, either way.”

To be the subject of a god’s care and regard was dangerous, after all. For the human and the deity in question, you know the stories from your world well, of the effects of Hylia on First and Sky, of Twilight and the personification of the Twilight Realm and the spirits of his land, of Wild and clawing from death’s embrace into that of the wilderness.

Knew how the fact the Fierce Deity’s mere proximity causing pain on those who changed him into hunting for hunt’s sake into protection for the sake of someone else cut deeper than even the ever encroaching entropy all beings must one day face. It was no wonder the Song of Healing was his creation, to want to ease the burden.

You gladly grant him some peace, in turn, even if it wasn’t much. It’s the least you can do, for always having his ways of watching over your heroes.

“Join me? We can make a duet.”

You feel more than see him shift, ephemeral, fleeting, gentle against the edges of your existence, as foreign to Hyrule as your own, sparking over your spine as you feel ozone and rust on your teeth. Satori is humming again to match the rumble of thunder in the man’s voice, the heralding of songs of war and elegies for the dead, ‘Of course, though I’m afraid I do not know many songs, besides…’

“It’s alright,”, you smile faintly, there’s a white ocarina in his hands, as he leans, a spectre against your side, “I’ll teach you some of my own, though you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t remember all the lyrics.”

‘It would be my honor to learn.’

You think he smiles, from the fluttering of something ancient and long forgotten against your side.

You sing to Satori and the Chain, a small respite of familiar and forgotten tunes, the Lord of the Mountain hums along. The Fierce Deity’s song cutting through any nightmares that may ail your heroes for another night.

When the dawn of a new day comes, the feeling of divinity against your skin feels just a bit more obvious, sinking into every crack of your being like a shroud, falling over your boys like a veil, reflecting the breath of eternity over Hyrule.

(First gives you a look that’s half exasperation, half understanding. Sky pointedly sticks to your side as Time looks you over, markings deep with vibrant color. You shrug with a helpless smile as you feel the lightest brushes of Hylia’s fond days of gold and starlit summers days against the Lord of the Mountains warm, luminous affection and the Fierce Deity’s smug, but content lonsdaleite smile.)

[goldenworldsabound]

hm. lonely feeling kind of day. 😔

[crossbackpoke-check]

Looks like that video is about a month & a half after The Trade and trevors broken ankle 😣

re: this video… anon 😭 i had suspicions but it is so much worse to have them confirmed that really was like. trevor’s first Public Appearance without jamie AND post-broken ankle which is traumatic in and of itself no wonder every beat reporter was like ‘oh yeah trevor’s just devastated’

wouldn’t you be miserable too if your best friend just got traded and your body betrayed you and what if it was maybe all your fault!!!

[squicky-fannish-discourse]

guys i know the fractured reflections au issa lil' bleak...

but now I have to think about the hilarity of Brooklyn, Mystel, Garland + D-Boys + Hiromi and Kyoujyu working together to save the brainwashed beybladers

Their combined personalities..... lol

[kingly-court]

Anyways, someone on my last ramble said it’d be great to see other rambles, and thus. [Cracks knuckles] I’m buzzed and here to deliver. Lets talk about The Mind Electric. (Something something Just Personal Interpretation disclaimer)

Yeah, that three minute diss track! I’ll be honest; it was my introduction to Chonny’s stuff, so I’m definitely biased with how much I love this song (though it’s not my ultimate favorite), and with how much I love Mind as a character and a concept I’m doubly so.

Since I started getting into really analyzing the media and the characters, and small bits of cano lore within the CCCC album, it’s become a even more of fascinating little ditty. And listening to other people’s commentary and goofs about it has been amazing.

Specifically, it’s been fascinating since we got a sort of “canon”(for lack of a better word) order that the songs fall into with the album. And separated from the overall THA/TME/TSE video, the context of the song changes just a little bit for me. Particularly with the fact I switched from thinking Mind’s anger was the primary emotion behind the song, to thinking Mind’s anger was a secondary expression of something else entirely.

See, anger is something that is easy to default to when faced with other feelings that are significantly less easy to express, whether it be for people overall - or for someone specifically. And in Mind’s case; I think the sheer amount of, ironically, blinding and disorientating rage within TME is a thin veil for an intense and uncomfortable amount of fear.

The song, in my perception, switched from just a three minute diss track from some high and mighty dickhead - to the song equivalent of an animal trapped in a snare, lashing out at anything that gets close and hurting itself in an attempt to get free. SaaS was just before this. Mind is overwhelmed, in way over its head, doesn’t truly seem to like being in control, and is aware of that. Heart is likely aware of that. And rather then admit that, Mind is instead completely lashing out and trying to justify getting to stay in control, despite clearly not wanting to, by putting Heart down; trying to make them seem incompetent, incapable, and all that fun stuff. (It’s projecting. But that’s neither here nor there.)

Yes, Mind is pissed - its angry, its words are cruel and senseless and rely on baseless statements and hatred, trying to rid of Heart (or at least keep him out of the driver’s seat); yes, this is a habit of his and needs to stop. But I’m motioning to all this and saying that it doesn’t feel like he’s running on pure anger and spite alone. Its spiteful, yes, and its dislike of Heart stems from a variety of different places (both valid and invalid), but really it just seems to feel like he’s covering up something much more complicated - purposely leaning into ripping Heart a new one rather then really acknowledge anything its doing or feeling.

If it points fingers, after all, then hopefully no one will look at him; at the way its mechanical hands are shaking. And thus he can stay in control, and keep this whole song and dance safe and running (well, in its perception, but shhh).

[sortanonymous]

Life as a Truex fan these past 22 race weekends

[blue-eli]

Ink October day 27: Seldom

Not often; infrequently or rarely.

[cryptidcalling]

In campaign canon Cosmo goes from not being able to sleep at all to being Incredibly Eepy once he’s back in a normal body. In my own canon (at the moment at least) Cosmo goes from having severe insomnia problems to being the kind of guy who needs a nap after lunch to function. These are both bc of Cosmo getting new access to his magic and more control over his body.

In non-magical or more chill AUs I think this change is just Cosmo finally going to a doctor and getting prescribed sleep meds.

[prlssprfctn]

Jason, being a semi-canonic common hallucination in the family after his death, could lead to the stupidest AU ever.

Imagine everyone seeing him — Bruce, half of the time, Dick non-stop, Tim more often than not, and eventually even Alfred starts seeing little boy's silhouette in the corner of his eye, but he never admits it, because someone needs to stay sane in this family.

It is a lot like real-life cases when cult families start to see collective hallucination, and it somehow syncronises in their minds, so they hear and see the same things, you know?

So, yeah, everyone sees Jaybin around.

Everyone but Damian. Damian is a normal one. He also knows his Akhi is alive and well, so whatever. And it takes him some time to figure out that his family is bat-shit insane, but when he does, he decides to use it on his advantage.

Damian, calling Jason: Akhi, you should visit me. It is getting awfully boring here.

Jason, frowning: You know I can't. They think I am dead, and I can't risk my plan, especially now, when Red Hood is gaining-

Damian: We will pretend you are a hallucination.

Jason: ...What?

Damian: So, there is a plan...

So, a few days after this call, Jason arrives at the Wayne Manor. He still thinks his brother's plan sucks, but gaslighting is one of his many talents, so surely, they will figure something out. He can lie his way through this meeting.

Expect, he doesn't even need to lie. His family is actually insane.

Bruce, bumping in Jason:

Jason, staring back: Uh-

Bruce: Wow. You look so grown-up. And we look so alike. Nice one, brain.

Jason: ?..

Tim, leaving his room: Hi, B, hi- Oh, damn. Hi, Jaybin. Nice leather jacket.

Bruce: Right? I guess his ghost just grows up with us now.

Jason: ????

Alfred, nodding along, out of nowhere: Master Dick will hate it. He looks taller now.

All of them: (peacefully leave the room)

Jason: What. The. Fuck.

Jason waits for the moment of clarity to happen as he chats with Damian in the kitchen, but... nothing changes. They really, really think he is a hallucination. So... he starts hanging out around more. Both because Damian is getting angsty, and because it is kinda... amusing.

Tim, stuck on the same case for a few nights, non-stop: Oh, it is really just me and you in this, Jason.

Jason, playing Mario Cart on the table by his side: Maybe take a nap, dude.

Tim: No, I need to figure out this case with-

Jason, rolling his eyes: Red Hood had already dealt with it. Go to sleep.

Tim: ...You are such a good self-care kind of hallucination.

Jason: ...

Damian: Your bets, when will they realise that you are a real person?

Jason: At this point, I am not sure that they will, even if I start screaming that I am real.

Damian: Fair. I bet a year would do.

Jason: ...A year and a half.

Dick visits the Manor. He cooes at Jason, muttering something about "of course, he would have grown up in a punk," and Jason almost breaks his role to hit him on the head.

Jason, arms folded on his chest: You know, you need serious help, dad.

Bruce, blinking at him slowly: Probably. You know what else I need?

Jason: Sleep? Retirement? To stop adopting strays? The list is endless, man.

Bruce: ...Coffee. I need more coffee.

Jason, groaning: What the fuck!!!

Alfred figures out that Jason is real, eventually. Solely because he catches him sneaking a few extra cookies, and hallucinations are not supposed to eat. He plays along with him and Damian until the very end, anyway.

(Damian ends up winning the bet because Jason loses it once and pushes Bruce down the stairs, when he starts reciting some precautionary tale about him. Everyone is flabbergasted.)

[keypostos]

caleb is 10 when he realizes that he's a physical touch fiend. the rush he gets when his hand lingers on top of your skin after playing with you is like no other. when he presses into your side while you're reading, his thoughts always circle around one topic: you, you, you. when you would run into his room after a nightmare, caleb was ready to swoop you in his arms and hold you until you fell asleep. every response towards you was involuntary.

caleb is 15 when he realizes that teasing 13-year-old you becomes irresistible. when he holds up your book, pencil, or some other item in the air, he watches as you jump up and down to try and grab it back. he's grown a lot in three years; if he had to estimate, he's a whole head taller than you now—20cm at least.

when you throw yourself onto him in an attempt to get your stuff back, he falters. you're laying against him on the couch, shuffling and moving up and down over his body, and caleb's breath hitches. you're so close and right there.

he's going insane. you can't even stand up for five seconds before caleb pulls you down against him once more, saying something about retaliation or revenge while tickling you to death.

caleb is 20 when he's about to leave for the DAA. there's an air of silence around the house. you've trapped yourself in your room more often, stressing over your senior finals. at least, that's what you've been telling him.

"i'm sorry caleb, i really need to study for this test."

"oh! i totally forgot about that project i had due tonight. shit, i'm sorry caleb. we'll have another movie night soon, okay?"

he doesn't know if you're actually this busy or if you're actually ignoring him. all he does know is that he misses you. he wonders about how he could miss someone who was in the room across from him. you were so close, but so far.

when you found out he was leaving—though you had a grin on your face while congratulating him—caleb knew you were devastated. he wondered if you were secretly mad at him for leaving.

two weeks before his departure, he practically forces you to be around him. he laid down next to you like before. he stroked your hair while you napped on the couch. he teased you and picked you up so you could hit him and grab him like you used to. he always chose to put his arm around you during a movie. he dragged you by the hand all around the neighborhood. he needed to all of that again, a thousand times more.

but at 24, it seems like there may have been a wedge between the two of you. calls are more and more infrequent.

"sorry, space signal sucks," he'd type.

"sorry, i was busy with training!" you'd reply, 2 days later.

he thinks that he would do anything to go back to before. he hasn't felt you in months. he sees you only twice a year.

it's hard. it was excruciating during the first few weeks. not only was he dealing with bootcamp, but he always found himself looking to his side, thinking you'd be there with him. at night, you were there, right next to him in bed.

he imagined that you would whisper words of reassurance in his ear. you'd hold onto him like you used to, when you had nightmares, and wrap your legs between his. there were days where we stroked his necklace, wishing that it was your hand instead. what he would give to have you next to him.

all he wants is to be able to feel you again. he chastises his 10-year-old self for taking you for granted back then. he wants to feel the apples of your cheeks when he caresses your face. once,—when he was 13 (you, 11)—he did that, and he thought you had a fever the way you warmed up. if he could, caleb would build a time machine to go back to that.

caleb is 25 when he is out of your life.

he thinks about you every day. it reminds him of when he was in bootcamp five years ago. it takes him back to when he was fifteen; you were on top of him, and his brain was fried to a crisp. caleb wonders if he's always been this way, because he can recall that at ten, you were still the only thing consuming his mind.

even during his arm repairs, you're there throughout all the pain.

when you discover his metal arm, all of caleb's instincts point to the door. he's spent so long trying to hide it from you: it's the constant long-sleeves (even though they made him incredibly uncomfortable), or making sure to only touch you with his left-hand (even though he wanted to pull you in with both hands).

but he stays. because it's you.

you freeze momentarily, listening to his writhes and moans of pain. caleb only notices you're there when he feels your hands brush his shoulder. he jolts back in surprise, and he sees you looming over him.

he stammers something, not even sure of what he said because you're here. you see him. you see it.

caleb's wanted this for so long. he wanted to see you again, in a state where you were both vulnerable, like old times. however, that moment probably wouldn't have come if he doesn't confess about this, so he relays the details.

you listen attentively, eyes wide with shock as caleb goes on. your hands wrap around his metal one, and he feels nothing. it's agonizing. he sees you examine him so gently. your fingers trace over bolts and plates of metal, lightly stroking up and down his arm. and caleb feels nothing.

how often has he dreamed of this? for you to be touching him again, so intimately and softly? he's stayed up countless nights wishing for you to be here, just so he can put his arms around you in a crushing embrace, only to be incapable of feeling you on one side of his body.

you pull away from his arm, asking if the fleet was accountable. when he doesn't say anything, he feels your weight lift off the bed and go towards the door.

whatever happens next is involuntary. he uses his flesh arm to pull you back, caging you between his forearm and his chest. there's no thought to it, no rationalization. it's just you and him. and he's been deprived of this for so long.

he breathes into the crevice of your neck, and he has half a mind to place his entire face there. he wants to breathe you in after being away from you for so long. no conversations, no contact, no touching. the last time he was this close to you was years ago. he needs this, caleb thinks.

the feel of you against his bare chest is something he cannot seem to describe. it's like he's his teenage (or even kid) self again, where he seems to short-circuit whenever he comes in contact with you. you're still small compared to him, but you fit perfectly like you did a decade ago.

he lets you go after he feels you trembling. you don't hesitate to place your hands on his waist and tackle him onto the bed. you catch him off-guard as you pin him beneath you, looking straight into his eyes.

"hold me," you plead, "with your right hand."

caleb lets out a shaky breath. there are voltages of electricity flowing through him—literally and figuratively. his skin sparks alive when he feels you. will it be the same with the metal arm?

slowly, caleb raises his mechanical arm. he wraps it around you, and feels the movement of your back shift downwards. you released a breath you didn't know you were holding. caleb held his.

you wait patiently before caleb starts running his metal hand up and down your back. you watch him exhale as he continues. you press your forehead on his, and you breathe in tandem with him.

caleb is 25 when he discovers that he loves physical touch.

wow like i didn't expect this to get so long... but like here we are???

i think we need to start embracing touch-starved caleb in all of our fics. this man hasn't seen the love of his life in YEARS (infrequently, anyway) so i think once she touches him (like INTIMATELY) for the first time in years he goes a little cray.

also sorry the ending was rushed i wanted to get this over with bc i intented this to be like 500 words but obviously it got way longer than that. what can i say... this freak has dug into my brain.

[apatheticsunday]

Dead Tired Stalker AU

AKA "Tim Drake is a little obsessive, possessive, and really, really likes his new boyfriend (Danny)" prompt idea!! No non-con, violence, or dead doves. Brief reference to human experimentation.

Inspired by this one post where Tim kept a methodical journal of Danny's resting pulse, body temperature, weaknesses, tracked him literally all the time, and Danny was like *heart-eyes*

I like the idea of Tim's idea of love being completely a bit skewed. He was neglected as a kid and craved attention, affection, being wanted; so, understandably, he assumes that's what other people want, too. He'd only had one boyfriend before. Kon was sarcastic, funny, and sweet, but even he couldn't handle Tim's... staring. The unblinking intensity in those eyes, the hundreds of pictures of himself on Tim's phone, somehow Tim knowing about Kon's conversations and experiences without having been there.

Needless to say, Tim and Kon's relationship ended with a harsh reiteration that most people need boundaries.

So, when Tim meets this very cute messy-haired boy at Gotham-U, he shoves down the instinctive urge to know everything. Mentally captures moments, memorizes them, instead of taking pictures. Shoves earbuds in to avoid listening in on Danny's conversations (oh, his name's Danny, which he overheard when the boy was speaking with the TA).

It's so hard not to obsess, though. Danny is... well, he's haunting. His crystalline eyes make Tim's heart stutter in his chest, chills rising along his arms; he swears there's this aura around Danny that's just utterly compelling. (Stop it, Tim, you'll scare him off.) But Tim can actually be a person sometimes, so he just asks, "Do you want to go out for coffee with me sometime?" And he's psyched when Danny says yes!! (He tries really, really hard not to memorize the fact that Danny likes hot oatmilk chai lattes, uses his left hand to hold his drink, and prefers not to use a coffee sleeve. Does Danny always hold his cups by the lid? Does he prefer- Tim stops himself.)

And Tim is a great boyfriend!! They go on dates (he doesn't avidly stare at the way Danny's eyes sparkle while at Gotham-U's planetarium). Tim learns Danny's favorite music the normal way (he doesn't hack into Danny's Spotify... although he's suddenly found himself listening to an artist named Ember). And Tim has a totally normal album of pictures of his boyfriend on his phone (his burner phone is a different matter entirely, but not even Batman himself could get it unlocked. Tim's got that phone sealed up tighter than the Fortress of Solitude).

Except Tim notices Danny becoming more withdrawn. More tired, dark bags under his eyes and stealing Tim's double espresso (he never does that, it's too bitter for him, why isn't he drinking his oatmilk latte?). Leaning his head on Tim's shoulder during lectures to take naps. And Tim's becoming more frantic the more lethargic Danny becomes.

Maybe he's more like Bruce "Contingency Plan" Wayne than he's willing to admit. Tim sets a hard boundary for himself: I'm just going to Google his symptoms. That's it.

He spends the next 42 hours obsessively researching Danny: hacks into his phone, downloads all his previous location history, texts, calls, background checks everybody Danny's been in contact with. Re-traces his steps down to the minute, finds all his Google searches, activates Danny's laptop webcam. He's determined to find out what's wrong with his boyfriend.

And because Tim is Red Robin, who literally became part of the Batfam because of his stalking tendencies and is one of the greatest detectives since Batman, he finds out. He finds out that Danny Fenton is one Phantom, a vigilante from Amity; finds obscure clips of newspapers mentioning a young boy's tragic death, discovers the GIW, uncovers classified information containing metahuman experimentation (let's say he doesn't quite know about Ghosts, but Metas are close enough).

Somehow, he makes a connection between ectoplasm and the Lazarus Pit (maybe not necessarily the right connection, but something-adjacent). After all, Jason was resurrected via "Evil Baja Blast" and Ra's al Ghul used it to make himself immortal. It would make sense that the GIW could sample Lazarus Pit water and use it to experiment on metahumans. So... Does Danny just need more Lazarus Pit water?

Cue Tim making use of the Drake and Wayne family wealth to literally overnight mason jars full of Lazarus water. Ra's al Ghul has no idea how it happened. He tests the reaction of Danny's DNA and the Lazarus water only to realize he was right. (Lazarus Pit waters are just excessively concentrated ambient ectoplasm, I guess?)

Tim does what any good boyfriend would do and spikes Danny's oatmilk lattes with Lazarus Pit water. And it helps. Danny is suddenly so much more energetic, there's that glittering shine to his eyes, and he looks so much healthier. Happier. Tim can't stop staring at him. If anything, he stares more, tries to memorize every angle of his boyfriend's face; he collects more candid pictures than before, always catching the gentle curl of Danny's lips when he's distracted; doesn't disengage the tracking apps or phone mirroring software.

He's just happy that his boyfriend is feeling better, more like himself. It's just a perk that Danny doesn't know about Tim's minor stalking tendencies.

(Danny absolutely knows.)

[slowwalkersyap]

Cried on the bus then at school cause im pretty sure something happened to my cat (heavy rain and she hasnt come back) then failed an exam (also cried DURING the exam) (for my cat ofc idc abt biology) anyone else having a good day 😁😁