#the universe knows I gotta have it.

[newreputations]

Old hippie gave me ounces of weed, said she doesn’t smoke but she grows because she loves the cannabis plants.

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

DPxDC Prompt

Thinking back on it, Danny probably should have been more wary of being given the title ‘Ender Of Timelines’.

[beatcroc]

homest[ar/uck] posting. this was meant to be supplementary to the gerome comic as him 'explaining the joke' but i uhhhhhh forgot.

i'm not much for crossovers in the the traditional sense, but it IS one of my favorite character exploration exercises to just go like 'if x media existed in this universe, who would and would not be a fan of it?'. and these ones are pretty notorious and always very fun to mess with for that and so here we are

[theminecraftbee]

hermit horror week day 2: season 3 or season 4 or environment

(Letters in a box that was entrusted to Grumbot in another universe.)

Dear Mumbo:

He is killing me, and I am beginning to think he knows it, and doesn't care. It's far worse from when I thought he didn't know. I wanted to think of us as friends, you know.

With each passing day, I am growing weaker still. I know, I know, you argued it was my fault, but I don't think you understand. Even if I hadn't gone and played with the mushrooms, I think I'd still be dying. It's something Scar's doing to the land. I'm in the shopping district more than most people; I practically live here part-time, with how much I've been expanding the Barge. And even before the mycellium, I was getting sicker and sicker and sicker. Ever since he became mayor.

You used to agree with me, but I'm done arguing. I don't know what it's done to your head. I don't know what it's done to mine.

And he's killing me. With every bit of the network he poisons and rips out, he's killing me. I know he knows it, now. I know you won't believe me. I just wanted someone to know. I wanted someone to know he's destroying the thing I did to keep myself alive.

I really wish you'd become mayor. Maybe then we'd just be hanging out with Grumbot.

Grian, I switched sides. You know I switched sides. You know why. I don't know if you should be sending me letters like this. I could tell Scar. I could tell anyone. I could make you go home and rest and let someone actually check out the fact you say you're dying. They would make you go home. We'd be able to actually fix the shopping district, you'd be able to rest, and Scar would be able to focus on more important things. You are still friends, I'm sure, once we fix this.

Dear Mumbo:

You won't. You're still a good enough friend to keep my secrets at least. Thank you.

Grian, I don't think that's a good thing.

Dear Mumbo:

Maybe I just want someone to know. Maybe I want you to come back. Maybe I just want someone to understand what they're doing to me.

I thought you'd understand.

I thought maybe I'd want you to remember when I was gone.

Grian, Frankly at this point I'm not convinced you're not lying. Scar's a good mayor. He's done what he promised. It's not like either of us voted for me either; we both wanted the shopping district to be made prettier too. I don't understand why you're trying to make me come back like this. Please just come talk. We can fix this.

Dear Mumbo:

You know, maybe you're right. I do regret sending you this. Would you do me the favor and burn it?

(There is no reply.)

[tomurakii]

Look Kristen is a kid so its understandable and Ally is great and I'm sure has a plan for this. But Kristen should not be a cleric lol. I hope that after the wizard synogue incident Cassandra takes the Archfey deal to keep herself safe and Kristen loses her powers because honestly based on her RP that girl has NO wisdom. She has NEGATIVE wisdom. If you don't like the gods currently on offer but can't take responsibility for keeping a new one alive (because you're a kid) then you should just respec. Pick a charisma-based spellcaster class that doesn't require a bunch of work like the Int classes or responsibility like the Wis classes. Give up your soul to Fig (or just give it back to newly-Archfey Cassandra) for Warlock spells idk.

[ryssbelle]

trying to be more active starting by tryna post all the stuff I've been neglecting to ;w; Heres a doodle I did for @sparkspsps of @heroesspirit Ravio!! I've done a lot of heroes spirit art so expect to see a lot of it, its a very good comic so yall better get your eyes on it and your hands reblogging!!

[dhmis-autism]

ID LOVE TO SEE YOUR HUMAN RED GUY BTW

well gosh if you're gonna be so enthusiastic about it sure. here's a drawing i did of him a while back. if you really want i'll show you the others but ah, im shy.

[summertimemusician]

Linktober (Shadow) 2023

Spirit

Welp turns out my exam season throughly steam rolled through my general Linktober plans, so you get this VERY late thing for now folks who find this, at least until I decide whether to continue this until I finish it even though it's no longer Linktober or if I'll make whatever other stories come later their own thing after exam season is over (mostly because the original for this one is my preferred draft, and that I feel the one for the Link/Dark Link prompt would be kind of wasted if it just sat there collecting dust cause I worked hard on the tension and horror there lord darn it, along with a few others mainly involving Fae Hyrule, Twilight, Time, First, among other Links like Legend, Sky, Warriors, just all of the boys, I wanted to give them all proper spotlight and still want to do that in any way I can). Welp. *Downs coffee like a shot* Also really need to find out how to make a Masterlist on mobile, figure out how AO3 works and answer asks.

Anyway, not really any warnings this time besides Reader Not Being Okay (par the course really) and angst.

As always can be read as either romantic or platonic, Reader is gender neutral on purpose, technically is meant to be read as either Hero's Shade Time x Reader or First x Reader mainly, but you can interpret it as any Link really lol

Good reading!

This corner of Faron Woods was quiet this time of year.

The woods were solemn in this Hyrule, the sliver of moonlight barely enough of a guide through the mist, it was silent but for the soft padding of animals through the underbrush and the howl of a wolf in the distance (not Wolfie's, not musical enough). The stars were your only company as you were separated from the group, the air was cold agaisnt your skin as you attempted to find your way.

Being alone in the forests of Hyrule never spelled anything good for anyone, but as you felt the brush of a hand tenderly twined in yours, the ghost of leather and the faint clinking of steel, and a faint glow of pale gold and ivory cutting through the veil of the night, mindful of roots you may trip onto and never flickering too far out of sight you couldn't feel safer, even  if instead something like melancholy threatened to lock your throat with the chains of silence, you felt as warm as the soft twilight glow and as frigid as ice, frostburned with the bitter cold of your own warring emotions.

You can't help but chuckle a bit whille holding a old scabbard close to your heart, it's a wry sound, "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

There is no answer, of course there isn't, but you don't mind, you know he'll listen, thorns wrap around your heart and crawl up your throat, the smell of lilies and steel coats and sticks in your throat like honey, or maybe blood, "... I didn't think you'd show up, you know? I always considered the possibility but..." You trail off, you feel something brush your side, you can only see him in the corner of your eyes or with a passing glance, there but not, existing but gone, so you keep your eyes on the road and in the flicker of light, so you carefully don't look to your side, you don't think you could contain the shaking in your heart otherwise, to stare at inevitability and prophecy, "... I know, I know you're fine. At least for now, I apologize for all the trouble I gave you."

'It's alright. It could never be a hardship aiding you.', the voice echoes in your ears, and you swallow thickly, breath hitching, the warmth of the sun in the fields of Hyrule, the wind caressing your hair, the song of the animals in Faron Woods, someone holding you carefully, fondly. The warmth of your hand in his. Not really here, but not gone either, more feeling than true echo.

You chuckle, and try to pretend it's not a bit breathless, something like a wounded keen, "... You're too kind. Too, too kind, thank you."

Spirits in Hyrule never spell anything good, in this wild land of light and shadow in a gestalt of divinity. There are some exceptions though, even if it hurts to witness then. So you follow him through the dark, certain that as you've guided his way once, he'll lead you now to where you need to go.

----------------------------------------------------------

... The clearing he leads you to is open, but by no means truly quiet among the trees, there is no peace to be found for the armored skeleton here. You choke on sorrow, on unfinished business, on the cruelty of being brought to ruin and being denied peace, and you stumble towards the familiar figure, almost in a trance as your vision blurs, roots and thorny vines wrap over rusted armor and a thorn cape, the skeleton's void sockets piercing through your soul, illuminated by the solemn gaze of the wretched moon and it's uncaring maids of honor in the stars.

You fall to your knees near the decaying skeleton, biting back against the wounded sound that attempts to leave your throat with enough strenght to bleed, you lay the scabbard by his side with a bouquet of lilies and shiver at the gentle, phantom touch, so soft, so loving it almost leads you to ruin all over again.

'... It's foolish to grieve for someone who isn't gone yet.' the thought comes to you, yet you can't help it. You still hurt for him, you still hold onto the fury at the heavens themselves for denying them quietus. For denying them rest over and over and over again. To watch this cycle and be helpless to stop it all due to the will of uncaring gods.

Alive. Dead. Alive. Dead. Denied full rest over and over again, to watch the chance at rest to the kindest of souls found in this world you found yourself in.

You barely register the touch to your cheek, ephemeral as it is, as you can't help but shed tears, can't help but grieve. Because if you don't, who will?

You know by now that some wounds can never heal, some rifts can never be mended. Even with the guarantee of cyclic, eternal rebirth, some things never return to how they were. And reminding yourself of this inevitability to them will never not hurt, even if you know it's futile to blame anyone but the one god who started this, and maybe the goddess who stood complacent to it. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth that it'll one day come to this, that the frost of death and the sharpness of pain will leave a mark the sands of time can't scar over.

You reach a trembling hand towards the one in your cheek, try to find catharsis in the remains of decayed, dead yet ever eternal, ever growing love. And you breathe.

'We'll meet again. So do not mourn for me, please.'

You don't think you could deny him if you tried. Not when you know he's trying to soothe you, to thaw your sorrow. To allow your heart's healing to fallow.

"We will, I know. I'm sorry for making you worry." You chuckle, leaning into the cold, trying to brand the memory of the shadowed, but not gone love given to you so you can return it in kind. Just until you meet again, just until you can give all you can to his not yet decomposing self, grasping onto what remains of him, "I love you."

'I love you too. Until we meet again.'

The cold is gone, the echo of love leaves. And you breathe, and pretend you don't feel empty.

(When you see Link again, reuniting with the Chain on the next day's twilight. You hug him as tight as you can, and hope you he doesn't notice the tears in your eyes. And that you don't feel the lingering traces of a frigid embrace.

When no one is looking, you wave goodbye to the shade. And pray he dreams of warmer days until he finds quietus.)

[possibilistfanfiction]

Prompt: “please stay”

it's rained more lately in los angeles than you ever imagined it would; you've been to the desert and lived through a summer here, the haze in the air and mirage on the pavement and a few days where it just never cooled off. but it's dreary and damp lately, parts of the city flooding, puddles everywhere. cold winds have blown in overnight, swathes of loose palm bark in your yard when you had looked outside.

it's still cold and stormy; the sea, you're sure, is angry outside — grey and infinite in its depth. most days, the wonder of the world sits in your wrists, in the junctures there, in the small bones beatrice knows all the names of. most days, the wonder is in everything: the orange poppies blooming along the hillside, and the perfect amount of lime in good guacamole, and the way beatrice tastes like cinnamon when you kiss her in the afternoon, lazily, like you've always had time.

but some days it sits heavy along your spine: you spent an eternity — eight months, earthside, but you don't know how to measure that, not really — in darkness, in nothingness, in white space so bright your eyes burned.

you didn't sleep, or eat, not like here. the halo in your back burnt and burnt and burnt, and the divinium through your organs, taken out by unknown hands, had left gaping, excruciating wounds, which eventually, because you stayed so, so still, turned into painful, barely-healed scars, half shrapnel, half burn. there was nothing, and you were nothing, and you missed your mom and your sisters and your friends and beatrice, with her steady shoulders and her reluctant laugh and her gold eyes.

it's still dark, still early, the dawn inky blue outside, stretching as a bruise against the pale skin of the sand. you roll over in your big bed — safe, piled with a soft white linen duvet; a mattress that beatrice had ordered specifically for your spine after consulting jillian and then making a spreadsheet of pros and cons between different brands and models — and take a deep breath. it's here, and it's now, you remind yourself, touch your fingers to the worst of the divinium scars, puckered along your right ribs. you place the palm of your hand against the worst of it, the opposite of stigmata, maybe, and breathe into it, let your chest expand all the way into your belly, all the way down your spine, filling your heartspace.

and then you look at beatrice, the duvet down around the middle of her bare back. the tan of her skin from the sun, the black tattoo down her spine, her hair — short and dark and messy — and the peaceful planes of her face, delicate despite it all. calm, and unworried, the bow of her lips and the freckles across her cheeks. she had told you, excitedly last night, how incredible the swells were supposed to be this morning, because of the storm, but you look at her and you think of riptides and not being able to swim and how this world, this life, bold and bright, wouldn't be much different for you than nothingness if anything happened to her. if she wasn't here with you, to eat really good ramen and grumble her way through terrible movies and steadfastly do the laundry.

you scoot closer to her, drape an arm across her waist and kiss between her shoulder blades. you've learned that bea is easy to awaken but almost impossible to really wake up when she feels relaxed and safe — but sometimes you think you know each other differently than anyone, a familiarity that has saved the world a few times over. in one of the classes you audited — philosophy, which had mostly been awful and full of gross white dudes — you had learned that recognize meant, really, to know again. to know again, and again, and again, like the veins mapped across the backs of your hands or the hue of a lover's eyes.

she stirs and blinks awake, slowly, and there they are: brown, so smart, with flecks of gold that light up in the sun, that you know even in the dark dawn.

'ava, are you okay?'

her voice is rough with sleep and slow and beautiful. you're so, so greedy, wanting this life and the next with her. you wouldn't renounce it for anything. kingdoms and realms could fall at your feet before you said anything of the sort.

'please don't go surfing this morning.' your voice is a little wobbly and she shifts onto her side, fully, to face you, concern etching a line between her brows. she looks around blearily, her features and posture sharpening in a split second.

'did something happen?'

'no,' you say, and leave the but something could alone; something always could. instead, 'i just — it's stormy, and i want to sleep in with you here.' let me love you like this, you think, and press your lips to the scar on her shoulder before you rest your forehead against hers, run a gentle hand through her hair. let me keep you safe. let me keep you warm, in this room in this bed in this house in this city of angels where nothing can hurt you, where i won't let anything touch you, not ever again. let me wake up to you again and again and again.

she doesn't fully believe you, that it's nothing, but she relents easily enough, trusting that you'll tell her if you need.

'please stay.'

she sighs, kisses you, touches the same scar against your ribs. 'okay,' she says, just like that, and you breathe into the palm of her hand.

[alabasterpickles]

I was sifting through stuff for school and found this character concept stuff for a Wander Over Yonder OC I had a blast designing about three or four months ago

(I should probably have mentioned her name is Marzipan 🫣)

Please enjoy my unhinged character design process 😂

The gumball machine headed guy is my sister’s OC! @bromeoanddudeliet ✨

[atiyasnake]

Danny phantom dc crossover idea:

Clone at the grave

Idk how but Danny ends up in gotham. Except da boi is a lil messed up. Aspects of his ghost form are peeking through in his human forms.

This inculdes

Green eyes (lowkey glow sometimes)

Some white hair

Some scars he got in Ghost form.

He also has a vivisection scar (could be part of reason he is there). There are also other various scars some that used to only show on his ghost form but are now on his human form, it's overall concerning.

The thing is Danny is also a bit bloody (red blood) and looking like he was in a fight. So he looks for a safe place and what better than to follow some kind ghosts from Gotham's cemetery. He's the King and Gotham (I love sentient ghost/spirit gotham) for some odd reason is like 'I like this kid/king so no spooky shit to hurt him' also in the cemetery I think there is just etiquette for the ghosts to not hurt each other and be respectful seeing as that is their final resting place. Anyways he's led to a grave and to just sit and chill and try to heal or overall not fully die.

Unbeknownst to him, he is sitting on the grave of formally dead Jason Todd. A grave that the bats have some surveillance on cause ya know of course they would have surveillance on an empty grave. So when poor old Danny is chilling there, the bats are made aware. When they look what they see is what honestly looks similar to a dead Jason Todd, albiet a bit smaller and white hair tuft not the exact same. And considering that Jason is very much (sorta) alive and not at the cemetery, they come to the conclusion that 'hey is that a clone?' Which is a very concerning question.

Cue bats taking a trip and coming close to the 'body' cause really it seemed like a dead body. But then Danny moves, opens his eyes and Boom ya got green, eerily close to Lazarus green which only increases their belief that this dude may possibly be some sort of clone.

So we got confused, suspicious, (concerned) bats. And meanwhile Danny is just ??? With seeing these dudes sorta surrounding him in a cemetery where he is still injured.

Now what happens next could go various ways.

They could go on the agressive detain and ask questions later.

There could be a fight.

Danny may use his spooky abilties to disappear.

Danny may simply fall unconscious and leave the bats to deal with him.

Danny could confuse them with sassiness,

OR he could be like 'ayo help would be appreciated'

OR he could be like 'can't a guy chill in a cemetery by himself'.

Overall the possibility of him leaving with the bats or going off by himself is up in the air and really depends on what type of vibes you want in this story.

Some fun things that could be included...

Bats insistent that Danny is a clone while Danny is like 'No'

OR Danny legit going like 'wait really a clone? Tell me more'

Maybe Jason and Danny meet on the street and are just like that Spiderman meme.

OR they meet and are like hey 'dead buddies' type deal

OR they meet and Jason is suspicious and shit

Batfamily members asking why there are two Jasons, wondering why one is smaller and how his hair changes.

Danny hiding from the bats causing confusion and chaos along the way

Hello batfamily adoption, Bruce reputation preceeds him.

Some 👀 when they see the vivisection/autopsy scar (maybe they don't even know its actually a vivisection until later)

Danny's spookiness peaking out more and more

Maybe at some point or something one of the magic users like Zatanna or Constantine encounter Danny and they are def unsettled. Maybe they can't tell he's the ghost king or a halfa but they know something is wrong. Maybe they knew Jason was a bit wonky in the death sense but they are like "this 'clone' is on a whole other level of fucked". This of course makes the bats wanna investigate more about the 'creation' of cloneDanny, wondering what is his purpose and how he came to be Danny and in gotham and why.

Ya know I like to think that Danny never actually tells them he's a halfa. Cause, ya know secrets and also who is he to crush their clone theory dreams.

The thing is, is that they def think Danny is a really spooky and unsettling 'clone'. Seemingly more dead than alive than Jason is. They never have moments where they think Jason is not actually breathing. His eyes seem more glowy green than Jason's and his tuft of hair seems to glow occasionally but so quick that you think it's a trick of the light. He seems so quiet and his 'presence' isn't that of a normal human. Sometimes they forget Danny is close by.

It makes them think of how Jason could have come back.

One thing I think would be present is that Danny is having issues with changing forms which was why they were sorta mixing. So when he finally is able to fully separate and they see his blue eyes, and fully black hair and they turn to Damian and are like 'ya know you two actually look pretty simi-'

So yeah this is an idea I've been in the process of figuring out. Lots of possibilities though, but if anyone also wants to have some fun with this, please do!! Never can have too many cakes after all.

[sugarcoatednightshade]

Tired of seeing fic on ao3 claiming to be based off dune the book series when it’s very obvious that the writer has only seen dune the movie(s).

Yes, it matters. Yes, these are very different works. You’re probably doing this for visibility; I don’t care. Archive Of Our Own is a fucking archive, stop labeling your works with a tag you know is factually incorrect. It makes it impossible for me to filter for fics I want to read.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[thecowboykatsuki-anon]

Really really missing my boy these past few days.

[yardsards]

i love how the infinity train fandom cannot come to a consensus about if jesse and lake are romantic, platonic, queerplatonic, familial, or something else. (heck, a lot of individuals don't even have a solid headcanon). but there's hardly any bickering over it, because we're all united under the universal agreement that:

[purpleponder]

I wanna cry because hands forgot how to draw, truly an artist struggle.

Also, kinda tempted to redesign magical boy Shinichi but also like… gotta learn how to draw Kaito to continue this au

I am sorry for this god awful drawing 😔

I will do better in the future