#that's a sad note to end on

[shivunin]

11 for the music meme for your ocs :3

Oooh thank you so much! :D This is an interesting one to think through.

(Music Meme)

A song that reminds each of their family:

Arianwen: Mama Werewolf by Brandi Carlile (I think she definitely feels connected to her mom most when she is fighting; the idea that they both had this sort of unbendable, fierce soul is something she clings to when she's struggling)

Maria: Good Grief by Dessa ("Night falls, day breaks; time/ has a funny kind of violence and I'm/ trying to keep it mind it can't leave you the way it finds you" sums up how she feels about her family once she comes to terms with Leandra's death).

Elowen: Passerine by The Oh Hellos ("You were the song that I'd always sing/ You were the light that the fire would bring/ but I can't shake this feeling that I/ was only pushing the spear into your side again;" With Elowen's family, there is a definite tension between knowing that she is loved and wanted and still feeling like she is a burden or a problem. It's a weight that she doesn't know how to balance.)

Emmaera: In the Kitchen by Mree ("With caroling laughter, heart of the home/ A banquet sweeter than my own/ I'm barreling after all I had known/ Why did I have to go?" Emma misses home and her clan the most of my Lavellans, and I think whenever she makes a Dalish meal or sees her old clothes she misses her family keenly)

Salshira: Dandelion by Gabbie Hanna ("When I was a little girl, my mama said to me/ 'What's your favorite flower, darling? I'll get you the seed.'/ I said 'Dandelion, dandelion, that one's so pretty.'/ She said 'child that one's not a flower that one's just a weed.'" Rather like a weed, Salshira often felt out of place and unwanted by her family growing up. No matter what she did, it always seemed like the wrong thing and she often had no idea why. Even once she's the Inquisitor, a large part of her still wants them to understand and see her as she is.)

[demigod-shenanigans]

For your consideration: Jason has a sketchbook filled with architectural sketches for Temple Hill, probably including sketches for statues and stuff like that, meaning he likely knows how to draw people.

Jason also has a second sketchbook he keeps under his bed. And it’s just pages upon pages of Leo. The way his brows furrow when he’s deep in thought. The way he looks when he’s smiling. The way he looks when he’s really, sincerely laughing with his whole body. The way his eyes sparkle when he’s rambling about a project he’s passionate about. The way he looks mid-battle, fierce and brave and like he’s unstoppable. The way he looks when he’s tired and the way he looks when he’s content and the way he looks with oil down his shirt and fire in his hair.

All these little aspects of Leo that make up the whole. All these little things Jason has seen so many times and that he’s terrified he might forget because Leo is gone and the few pictures they have don’t capture all of him.

[courfee]

“Regulus would be proud of us,” James whispered quietly to no one in particular, still gripping onto the painting like a life raft. 

— Tender Curiosities, Baby!  @otrtbs

[requinum]

Sorry if this makes no sense anyways happy friday

[usertoxicyaoi]

"What you did was quite good. Seriously, I meant it."

FIRST NOTE OF LOVE (2024). EPISODE FIVE.

[sehtoast]

Forget Me Not (Homelander x Reader)

1.4k words | gender neutral reader

Ask Prompt: HL x gn reader. Where hl loses his memory and runs away to another state where he meets the reader 🙏

You were totally prepared to swing first and ask questions later. Of course, that was before you saw him. Standing there drinking from your milk carton at three in the morning, fridge light illuminating him against the darkness of your kitchen, was The Homelander himself

You hide the baseball bat before he turns to you, a droplet of milk dribbling down his chin. 

“You should really invest in whole milk,” he says, sloshing what little was left inside the carton. “Tastes way better.”

You could hardly believe the night had been real when you woke up the next morning.  But, sure enough, he was still there.

“So, how did I end up with The Homelander of all people in my house,” you’d asked nervously. Reality had finally set in and you both sat at the table to talk.

He looked at you like you had seven heads.

“What’s a ‘Homelander?’”

Yeah… That really did happen. If not for the fact he looked entirely serious with such a genuine curiosity in his tone, you’d have thought he was bullshitting you.

Somehow, some way, he’d lost his memory.  Ran away from wherever he was, showed up at your house out of all possible others.  He said it seemed more inviting, but he couldn’t quite explain why.  

You’d tried to explain to him how to find his way back to New York, how to find Vought Tower so that he could go home and get some help, but he seemed too afraid to leave.

“What if I get lost?”  He’d asked, eyes twinkling with nervous energy.  “You said it’s north-east, but aren't there a lot of things north-east? What if I get the wrong place?”

You don’t know what possessed you, but you decided to let him stay.  Let him borrow some spare clothes that made him look much less… well, like a superhero.  You’re sure Vought would come looking for him eventually, so you might as well keep him safe and sound, right?

After helping him out of that suit, you can’t help but wonder if all super suits are total death traps.  If most heroes are padded up to look larger than life, but are really just plain as can be underneath.

Before he falls asleep in your spare room, he tells you the one thing he can remember.

“My name’s John…”

The next day, he follows you around everywhere.  You work remotely from home, and he sits next to you on the couch while you do.  The TV plays in the background while you cycle through tasks and emails, but his attention seems fixed on you entirely.  The clickety-clack of your keyboard fascinates him and he ends up curious as to how you type so fast, what you’re doing, what your code inputs mean.

He’s an interesting fella, curious by nature to the point he’s a total snoop.  You catch him in your bedroom on the third day, fingers trailing over your blankets as his gaze pans around the whole room.  It seems innocent enough, and he’s given you no reason to feel he’s out to hurt you.

When you ask him what he’s up to, he just shrugs, saying something… interesting.

“I wish I would've had a nice room when I was little…”

It conflicts with what you know to be true about him, but also makes you wonder if he’s starting to remember things.  You ask him to elaborate, but he can’t.  He presses his palm to his forehead as if he’s in pain and just shakes his head.  

“I don’t know. I just know I didn’t…”  He trails off, and you’re there to press a soothing touch to his shoulder.

You tell him not to worry too much.

You take him out grocery shopping one day.  He’s like a fish out of water.

He doesn’t know the first thing about navigating a store and doesn’t do much more than follow you like a lost puppy.  Hell, at the end, he doesn’t even know how to help the cashier with bagging.

He is, however, incredibly helpful when it comes to bringing everything in.  He is quite literally the one trip wonder, dangling every single bag from his arms and walking in as though they weigh nothing.

You could get used to that.

You cook a proper dinner that night and he helps.  Well, ‘help’ is a strong word.  More like he watches and hands you the occasional ingredient.

You’re fascinated by him.  He seems oblivious to normal living skills, but a part of him seems to genuinely want to learn them.  More than that, he seems so… peaceful.  You recall his recent erratic behaviors in the public eye, his meltdown on his birthday, his snippiness with interviewers…

But he seems so much less tense now.  Maybe it was the memory loss.  Maybe he just likes the quiet.  Who knows?

What you do know is, by the second week, you hope he never leaves.  You’re almost praying that his memory never returns despite knowing that's selfish.

It’s nice to share your space with someone.  It’s nice to have him around.

He’s sweet despite his dramatics.  Helpful and eager.  He’s company, and it’s been… a very long time since you’ve felt like you weren’t alone.  You didn’t quite live in bumfuck nowhere, but it was close enough that he was a blessing.

Your heart sinks on the day he comes downstairs wearing his suit.

He looks at you with those big blue eyes, but within them is a sadness. 

There is recognition floating around in there, swirling with that determined fire that you’ve seen on so many screens before. Yet he still looks so melancholy.

You offer him his morning coffee, a shared routine between you both for the past two months, and he sips at it quietly.

He used to hate it, but now..?

“Are you going back?” You ask after some time, not daring to meet his eyes.

Your heart sinks when he tells you he is.

“I’ll miss you…”

He struggles to reciprocate the words properly, but… he leaves you with a tight hug before his departure.

You don’t know why you cry so hard when he goes.  No, no…

That’s a lie.  You do know.

You miss him terribly.  

You miss him for days, for weeks.  

You watch the celebrations for his return.  You touch the screen of your laptop, wishing he was still at your side, still peering over your shoulder, still riding alongside you in your car.

But he isn’t.

And you don’t think he ever will be again.

You learn to breathe again after some time.  You feel good enough to crawl out of bed, collected enough to clean up the house a little.  You fall into your hobbies again, but nothing feels right.

It’s all just… dull.

And you hate that you know why.

You hate that you pray every night to hear your fridge door shutting, to hear the clinking of glass in your cabinets, to hear him step on that creaky floorboard on the steps.

But you don’t.

You don’t hear any of it.

Eventually you just stop listening.

Which means you don’t hear what slips through your window.  There are no footsteps, no creaks or cracks.  You don’t hear his nervous breaths.

You only feel when he lowers himself onto the other side of your bed.  You about jump out of your skin, ready to reach for the bat by your nightstand until you realize just who has come to see you.

You throw yourself at him entirely, hugging him tight, arms and legs wrapping around him to squeeze and squeeze and never let go.  He holds you close, nuzzling into your neck.

He tells you how much he’s missed you.  That he misses the quiet of your life together, that it was the nicest thing to happen to him in… well, his whole life, really.  He thanks you for taking care of him, tells you he wants to do the same for you.

Over the next few days, you have a visitor every night.

Within a few weeks, he kisses you for the first time.

After six months, you are a resident of Vought Tower, living with him in his penthouse.

He is different in this environment.  More demanding, more intense, but not to you. 

No.

When he comes back, when he comes home, he falls into your arms much like you did the night he came back to you.  He leaves his burdens at the door, safe and sound with you.

The peace didn’t necessarily come from losing his memory. It didn’t come from the solitude of your old home, nor the routine of domesticity.

It came from you.

He found his peace with you.

[dont-let-me-eat-pears]

me to me: girl, don't do it.

me: *imagines an au where the show didn't practically forget about merlin and gwaine's friendship after series 3, and gwaine found out about his magic sometime in series 4, and merlin got to have a friend again who knew everything about him and who he could be his true self with and tell everything to and share sneaky, knowing looks with when he secretly performed magic and—*

me to me: well, now you've done it. enjoy the pain.

[rayroseu]

I know its been said that Lilia likes acting cheerful despite his nearing death because he doesn't want to look weak. But, I think the undertone of his reasoning is he doesn't want to spend his last days in tragedy and sadness so he copes it with being happy as much as he can.😭

Isn't that a more obvious behavior especially now that we know that Lilia's life only has been happy for the last 2 decades, or less. I'm saying that because I feel like the years where Malleus grows up was depressing too because he was badly excluded and only recently, in NRC, did he finally have "a group of people to be a part of with freely"

I feel like this is more like an understandable reason why he wants to go away as "he can still smile and act happy" before his age deteriorates him up, and makes him "look lifeless" to his family.

Rather than making Silver and Malleus remember his death, I think his version of a happy ending was that party where they'll all have fun together. I think Lilia wants them to remember *his happiness* the most. Because Lilia's life has mostly been a tragedy, and I don't think he wishes even after his death, that he would still be a "tragic person".

I feel like his line about "not wanting Malleus to be a hero of a fairy tale" reflects that. Because he did experience being the "hero of a fairytale". He saved Malleus from being killed and dying. He is, in the story, the rightful hero of Briar Valley.

TWST has always told that heroes in this world are perfect individuals with perfect morals and life, but Lilia as a hero, added more depth towards the concept of heroes in TWST...

To be a hero, you need to be facing the story's conflicts, you have to sacrifice a lot, and be in pain for doing the right thing just for you to "have something to be victorious over."

And, I feel like that's a nice parallel to the theme that "villains are people that can be redeemed/grow up even if they're messed up". Its like saying everyone struggles even if you're a hero or a villain, like there's never a perfect role or a perfect world where there's no sadness.... 😭

also, I know Lilia mostly said that line about "heroes in fairytales" because he wants Malleus not to die forgotten like Meleanor and Levan, but its GETS ME knowing he said that as well because he doesn't want to see Malleus in any kind of pain😭

[wolfofartblock]

Need a break from this webcomic I'm drawing, anyone got anything Desmond x (Altair, Ezio, Alex, etc.) related that I could sketch out 🤨 or AU stuff

[kairukitsuneo]

⚠️Spoiler for Transformers: Rise of The Beasts⚠️

This is the alternative gayer comic version + post credit bonus. Please proceed with caution~♡

(Added freckles for Noah)

☆ Bonus ☆

Thank you for reading 💕💕

[leftneb]

alr here's me yapping about the landoscar Detroit: Become Human AU @lyslsstuff and I have cooked up over the past week or so

(decided to make a full post about it bc a. I have many MANY thoughts about it and b. you people are clearly not normal about this either) (affectionately)

first off have another WIP (peep the blue blush and the lines on their faces I'm totally normal about it yesyes) I unironically had to hide their heads a couple times because the sheer homosexual glee on their faces was making me nauseous (this is how I know I've succeeded as an artist)

the main concept goes: oscar is an F1 driver, and lando is one of his android mechanics. unbenoknownst to the general public (and pretty much everyone except like. zak brown) is that oscar is also an android

androids are very much banned from f1

lando starts out as a normal android, just following his programming and minding his own business really. altough the au plays out after the android revolution androids are still mistreated, just in subtler ways. technically they're not owned by anyone (but they're only allowed to exist when employed) and there's no segregation in public (but there's no laws against it) and some people are vaguely accepting (guess what there's no hate crime or hate speech laws either)

basically I went with the game's commentary on capitalism and treatment of minorities and made it a lot more actual c: we're not oppressing you (but we're also not not oppressing you)

the real plot begins when lando (accidentally) finds out that oscar is an android, which both of them proceed to be completely normal and not disgustingly in love about for the rest of eternity

one of my favorite things about this au (and this was completely unplanned it sorta just happened on it's own) is that the car is basically the 3rd main character. the way I'd explain it is basically: rk800 connor in the game is able to reconstruct entire events (crimes in his case) by examining details and piecing it all together. both lando (being a mechanic) and oscar (actually pulling functions out of the thing) are intimately familiar with the car, like they KNOW it on a personal level pretty much, they can reconstruct every single thing that is happening mechanically by hearing the sound it's making alone

for oscar this is sort of unfortunate because he is suspiciously good at telling when something is wrong (way before anyone else can really). but it also makes both of them emotionally attached feel connected to their machines which I think would be a genuinely interesting aspect of having androids in motorsports

thought I had while writing that paragraph: since irl the cars are usually identified by their drivers' numbers ("car number 4" and such) it could be that oscar litterally just calls his car "81". like that's just it's name. very creative ik

for the enjoyers of the original game I'd add that oscar's deviancy arc (in the sense of which impulses he recieves that lead him to disobey his programming) is most similar to markus' while lando's is more akin to connor's

bonus details that I can't really fit in a paragraph but want to add anyway:

android movements being inhumanly smooth conveniently mirrors oscar's irl driving style (minimal movement)

oscar normally has his pain receptors on despite being able to disable them. something about wanting to feel human (refuses to turn them off after crashes he feels were his fault despite mark scolding him about it)

yk the thing where both of these idiots are always dressed for opposite weather? yeah here it actually makes sense they were just programmed that way

I have no idea where lando's name comes from androids don't have names by default. they just get called "it" for the most part except oscar sometimes slips up and calls lando by his given name (that sounds very trans when I put it like that) which everyone else collectively goes "who the FUCK is lando" at

android transgenderism

I will not elaborate on that (note: I am trans. I will project this)

fun fact the piece that started it all ^^ was quite litterally just me seeing a picture of lando and going "dbh vibes" despite my knowledge of the game consisting of maybe half a playthrough I kinda-watched in 2021 (tubbo played it on stream lmao). it's safe to say that I may have hyperfixated on it a little tiny bit taking into account the 10 hours of playthrough I've watched and 2283 words of google doc we've written since that fateful day. whoopsies

also want to conclude this by saying that I purposefully didn't give too much away about the AU plot-wise because the hypothetical fic that hypothetically may come into existance at some point is hypothetically still a ways away and I don't want to spoil it too hard. consider this a director's commentary if you will

lmk if you wanna be added to the tag list for posts related to this au btw!!! I absolutely love hearing people's thoughts on it (though I am gonna be a bit busy in the coming weeks)

tag list (more people asked me to talk about this than I anticipated soz if I didn't respond directly I hope this makes up for it) @roosterhouse @wisteriagoesvroom @kpiastri @kingkestrel

[dfwbwfbbwfbwf]

Maeðros never intended to survive the "Fourth Kinslaying".

(I use quotations because I despise the definition of kinslaying in Tolkien, which is only ever used one way around, but I digress. Besides, that's not what this is about.)

TW: talk about suicide, suicidal intentions, Nelyo just being generally very unwell, that sort of stuff. This is definitely darker than my normal stuff.

I have a whole post here on how Maeðros has Ainu-related trauma, and that's a major reason why he refused to treat with Eönwë. I have another post here, also about Maeðros, to put things in perspective, about why he fell into despair and the "Nothing I do is going to work out anyway, go out with a bang" mentality.

If you don't feel like reading those, that's fine. I'll sum it up:

By the time the War of Wrath ended, Maeðros was completely disillusioned with everything. Despite doing everything he could to do things the right way, it never turned out right, and it culminated with the death of Fingon and, essentially, the destruction of the Noldor. He sent letters, and, at best, received no answer. Additionally, he's had a great deal of experience with Ainur, and most of it had either been bad from the beginning (Angband), or the positive had soured upon reflection (post-grandpa murder and Flight).

He was in an incredibly bad place mentally and spiritually. He didn't have any amdir left, let alone estel. I can't imagine he improved after Elrond and Elros left - regardless of what you think of their relationship, I think having them around would help him emotionally, at least a little.

So here's the sitch - Maeðros is down to one brother. He has no army. He has no sons hostages. He has no friends. He has no purpose other than to get the Silmarils or die trying.

(And dying isn't as terrifying a prospect as it had once been. Even Everlasting Darkness, whatever it was, had to be better than this. [He understood why Haruni Míriel ... left.])

Maeðros doesn't trust Eönwë. He's an Ainu, and Ainur lie - sometimes intentionally, and sometimes because they simply cannot keep their promises. An Ainu killed his grandfather and father. Ainur abandoned his people even before Alqualondë. Ainur killed his best friend.

At least Eönwë was upfront about his intentions to take Maeðros and his brother prisoner. As if Maeðros wouldn't kill Maglor himself to prevent that. As if Maeðros wouldn't raze Valinórë to the ground before letting the Valar so much as look at his last brother.

Maeðros is tired. He'a been tired since the Nírnaeth Arnoediad, but in the century since, it has grown to be nearly overwhelming. For a time, it lessened, and he actually took care of himself - not for his own benefit, or even for Maglor's, but for the boys, for who knew what horrific atrocities Maglor would expose them to and call it "food". But now they are gone, and what little he'd gained has already wasted away.

(Maglor worried and fretted like a mother hen over his elder brother's sunken cheeks and eyes that, despite the Treelight, were duller than an abused, iron blade.)

Maglor begs him to consider letting go of the Oath, and Maeðros can only pity him. His poor brother, still trusting that the Valar care, that Eru cares. That this will be the one good thing that actually pans out. That this is estel instead of amdir.

Maglor had always been close to the Valar, having studied in Valmar, and even marrying a Vanya. His trust in them had never truly shattered the way the rest of the family's had. (The hollowness in Tyelco's fëa after Huan abandoned him had nearly sent Maeðros after the mutt himself.) Maglor didn't know the Ainur as anything but their façade.

Maeðros has no intention of changing that.

He manipulates and threatens Maglor. He doesn't care - he literally can't. He doesn't plan on either of their survival, but the least they can do is go out trying one last time. Maybe that will be enough to save their family from the Void.

-----

Maeðros doesn't expect Eönwë to let them go. Maglor had to drag him away from the camp. From Arafinwë's disappointed face. From their boys staring at them in horror.

But opening the box and beholding the Silmarils almost makes the last six hundred years worth it. For the first time in centuries, Maeðros feels his father's soul.

Atya. Haru. Hányar. We did it. You can rest now.

-----

Pain beyond anything he's ever felt before.

-----

Maeðros hears a horn in the distance. He turns away.

-----

About half a millennia later, Elros drags his soul kicking and screaming to Mandos.

[ossy-serenity]

Comforting

”Pain, sadness… and joy. These feelings allow you to understand others.”

continuation of this drawing

[thisfrailheart]

prompt: hair | july 29 | rosekiller | Teen and up - no warnings/triggers I think (let me know if you want me to add something) | word count: 682 | @rosekillermicrofic Part 2 to this prompt: "unrequited" July 24

***

It's been three weeks. Three weeks of nothing. Three weeks of Evan's heart breaking over and over again as Barty ignored him. Or acted like he did. Evan could feel his stares. But whenever Evan would stare back, challenge him to speak, to say something, he'd avert his gaze, caught.

Evan hates it. The feeling of a secret he shouldn't have shared hanging between them. Poisoning the soil they'd once built their friendship on.

He skips meals regularly now, unable to bear the brokenness he feels surrounded by his friends. And Barty. He closes his potions textbook, flopping back onto the mattress. Breathes deeply to fight off the nausea settling in his stomach when he hears a knock. His dorm mates should be at dinner. And even though he's hidden behind the curtains, he feels like he's on display.

"Brought you something from dinner. You need to eat." Not him. Not him not him not him.

Barty sets the food down on his nightstand with a thunk. Evan sits up, holds his breath. Hopes he'll go. Leave him alone again. But Barty sighs. Evan hears him sit down on the bed next to his, wooden frame creaking. He exhales shakily, draws another breath only because his body demands it. He wants to disappear.

"I'm sorry. For— well, for making it seem like that's what I want. I don't! I mean…actually, that's a lie maybe? I would want that, I think. With you. I don't know what it's like to…to not. Want it. But I don't— That's not the only thing? I didn't ask you just because...of that."

Evan's heart races. His throat is tight with unshed tears. I don't want to know. He hears Barty get up, then sit back down. Get up again. Start pacing.

"I've got no bloody idea what it's like, yeah? But I know what it's like to feel different. And…and wrong. And I don't want to make you feel like that. And I think I did? I think you believe that I just wanted…that. And I don't. I'd quite like, you know, you as well and— Merlin, I'm not doing this right."

An exasperated huff from the middle of the room.

"You're doing fine." The words are out of his mouth before Evan can stop them. The bed hangings are open before Evan can stop himself.

Barty's standing there, confusion personified. Hair sticking up in all directions, probably from nervously running his fingers through it again and again. Evan wants to smooth it out for him. "I am?"

Evan nods. This whole thing is awkward but he decides to push through. "It's…confusing. For me, too. I don't— I don't know everything about it either? Most days I don't even want to think about it. But then some days it's like…like maybe I could, uhm…want it? I'm not sure. I just… Everyone always talks about it. You talk about it. And I'm just...there and I feel out of place and it's— it's lonely? And I feel like...like I'll always be the wrong choice."

Evan shrugs, looks away. Barty moves a bit closer to the bed. "Do— do I make you feel like that?"

Evan shrugs again. He doesn't really want to answer.

"Oh." It's quiet and sad. And then it's not. It's angry and beautiful. "Well. Well, you're not. I think you're— You're just not, okay? And if people don't get that then...then they don't deserve you. I—You're not the wrong choice. For—"

Barty sighs. Looks up at the ceiling. "For me."

Oh.

Evan's never felt so calm before. So…right.

"Alright, well. Uh, I just needed to...to tell you that." Barty scratches the back of his head. Lingers for a moment. Then turns to leave.

Evan's head is spinning. Hope settles in his chest, warm and sweet. He almost chokes on the feeling of it. The possibility that the guy he likes might like him back.

"Ask me again?" Evan gasps, breathless.

Barty stops in the doorway. Turns back slowly. He's grinning.

"Hogsmeade, Rosier?"

[zinniapetals]

In a tragedy, the conclusion is often called the catastrophe.

[gmaybe666]

"be young, be dope, be proud, like an american"

comforting myself with some teenage!kenstewy scheming about taking over the world