#zoom writes

[zzoomacroom]

Hob Gadling Headcanons

He has a big dick

He unironically loves "live laugh love" signs. I mean, it's his whole philosophy on life, right? He has several of these signs around his home and office. Back when he was Sir Robert Gadlen it was inscribed on his family crest. He coined the expression and he's only mildly annoyed that he can't take credit for it.

The song "All Star" by Smash Mouth has been his personal anthem for the past 20 years or so. The lyrics just really resonate with him and he listens to it every morning to get psyched up for his day.

He cried for hours the first time he saw the "Jurassic Bark" episode of Futurama. You know, the one with the dead dog? The ending just hit way too close to home for him.

His hatred of Shakespeare is actually justified, but not because he ruined his date with Dream. The two of them were casually acquainted and Shakespeare thought Hob was rather obnoxious and arrogant, so he wrote a character inspired by Hob into one of his plays. When Hob first saw A Midsummer Night's Dream he immediately recognized that Nick Bottom was a dig at him, but he couldn't say anything without looking like even more of, well, an ass. Why the name Bottom? Well, you see,

[starrystevie]

hurt/comfort | mentions of anxiety and trauma | crossposted to twitter

"what's that?" eddie murmurs into the quiet darkness of their bedroom.

dread piles into steve's stomach. he wants to tug his sleeve over his hands so eddie can't see the writing on his palm anymore. wants to hide the pen marks by holding onto his hips instead.

"it's nothing," he whispers back, attaching his lips to the underside of eddie's jaw. he knows his boyfriend melts at the kisses he puts there. knows it will distract him from asking any more prying questions.

the ink is smudged, hardly legible anymore after a day at work. between washing his hands and shuffling papers and rubbing subconsciously at his palm when that certain type of anxiety knots into his gut, the pen marks from earlier are halfway to disappearing until he starts it all over again the next morning.

steve can't help it. he thought that moving in with eddie, having his support, would make it easier to cope with it all. thought that having someone else to help hold him accountable was the answer.

yet here he is, writing a list on his hand every morning, just to help him remember simple things.

he turns on the coffee pot in the morning, makes a note of it on his palm, crosses it out when he turns the pot off and tells himself over and over that it's actually off and he's not imagining it.

he locks the door and writes "LOCKED" in all caps so he doesn't come home halfway through the day to check and make sure it's actually locked.

he brushes his teeth, he feeds the dog, he puts his wallet in his briefcase, he closes the refrigerator door after breakfast and writes reminder after reminder on his palm in sticky black ink.

it helps, really it does, when steve's mind starts to wander in a boring meeting and he gets that hot rush of guilt of forgetting something burning through his veins. he'll look at his hand under the table and scan over the notes, find what's looking for, and try to breathe.

he'll read it over and over, the crossed out "coffee pot" or the "wallet in bag" or the "fed duke", until he feels like it sinks in, blinking back into real time to focus.

it's some strange mix of anxiety and lack of control and head trauma, robin thinks.

steve can't talk to a lot of people about it, embarrassed that he can't remember doing simple fucking tasks, but robin gets it. gets him. robin lets him swing his legs into her lap and pulls his hand up to her face so she can inspect the notes from the day to piece them all together.

it was her idea in the first place to write on his hand. she had suggested paper first but that was too easy to lose especially if he couldn't remember setting it down. she traces over the ink and lets him vent about feeling like a failure or stupid or some type of broken, reminding him gently that none of them got out hawkins without scars.

but steve hasn't let eddie see that yet, too afraid of breaking whatever they've made together, too afraid of scaring him off with his cracked brain and clenched jaw. too afraid of being built so wrong that he'll look like a once shiny penny covered in rust-colored problems.

so he digs his fingers into his palm, nails slicing into flesh & ink, and presses his lips fiercely into eddie's jaw to stop him from spilling any secrets. lets his tongue sneak out as an apology for not showing him his jagged edges. lets his teeth bite against the words he wants to say.

"baby," eddie whispers, his gentle callused hands trailing over steve's arms to settle on his clenched fist. he shakes his head against eddie's chin, bites at his neck again, ignores the way the love of his fucking life is trying to peel his fingers open to see it. see him.

steve feels raw, a live wire, one second away from snapping into sparks of electricity. he shakes his hand free and curls it around the small of eddie's back, tugging him closer, hiding his shame.

"it's nothing," he repeats, voice shaky and rough against eddie's skin.

if he just slots his leg right, if he just presses into eddie right, if he just tips his head and rolls his hips and plays his cards right, he can avoid all of this all together. he can take eddie's mind away from the writing on his hand and convince them both everything is okay.

but it's not that easy, it never is, because there fingers wrapping around his wrist at an awkward angle to pull his hand back and heat flares up in his cheeks. eddie's going to see, going to ask, going to figure out that steve is broken beyond repair and it's all thanks to one too many blows to the head & one too many times of fucking up & one too many times of leaving the goddamn door unlocked.

"i just-" he bites out, trying and failing to pull his arm out from eddie's grasp. maybe some part of him wants to come clean and get the inevitable over and done with. "-they're just some notes okay?"

and now eddie's looking between him and his palm with those eyes that hold love and the pity that he hates, so he blinks away, jolts to get his arm free again. he doesn't want pity, he doesn't want puppy dog eyes, he doesn't want the reminder that he can't-

but then there's lips pressing oh so gently to the hand he rubbed raw earlier when he could have sworn he didn't triple check that he paid the water bill. there's the flutter of eyelashes against his fingertips as eddie trails kisses over the thing that makes him feel less than.

steve doesn't fight to pull his arm back anymore. his shoulders drop, his muscles relax, and that ball of dread in the pit of his stomach eases away into something that feels more like acceptance.

"that's smart," eddie mutters against his palm. "to help you remember?"

and just like that, it isn't secret anymore. just like that eddie's peeled back the layers of bravado and nonchalance and seen steve for the mess he is.

he kisses the notes like it's the easiest thing to do and maybe for eddie it is. maybe taking a piece of steve's hurt is what they found each other for. maybe eddie was made to understand every inch of steve from the inside out like the way a vine instinctually knows to follow the sun.

steve resettles his face in eddie's neck, nods and breathes him in so he has him deep in his lungs. "it was robin's idea."

"she's smart too, then." eddie hums and drops steve's hand gently, letting it wind back around him so he can tangle his in steve's hair. "does it help?"

"yep," steve mumbles.

"how have i never noticed you scribbling on your hand everyday?" eddie asks with his lips pressed into the crown of steve's head.

"i didn't want you to see. i'm pretty good at hiding."

he can feel when eddie takes in a deep breath. feel when his chest expands and collapses before whispering "start adding 'eddie loves me' on there."

steve shakes his head with a small grin, his heart beat slowing from an anxious jack-rabbiting speed to something more eddie paced. "i never need a reminder of that one."

[sirmanmister]

MacCready not beating the generational trauma allegations 😔😔😔

[scribbyizback]

does anybody feel Zesty abt ldr Sun?? oh hey yeah not me pffft nah. spirals

love death and rollerskates by @spadillelicious

[poetriarchy]

orthodox prayer corner, and an angelic visitor

[hyperfocusthusly]

Downloading some AU Zukka thoughts;

- Okay so Zuko gets banished, but ends up on his own

- Somehow washes up in the southern isles and finds himself a cave to go flop in, happens to be nearby a certain water tribe

- Between injury, hunger, thirst, being out at sea and general exhaustion he’s gone a bit feral

- Maybe some of the kids from the tribe are out exploring and they find the cave

- Zuko warns them off with fire and they go home shouting about a dragon in a cave near the village

- Sokka is pretty sure that dragons aren’t real, or if they were they’re at least extinct, and even if they aren’t he’s fairly confident they don’t hang out in the snow

- He goes to investigate the cave and catches a glimpse of a boy, probably not much older than him, clearly hurt and in need of help, but he also gets fire shot at him

- He starts taking food to the cave, leaving it near the entrance, it never gets eaten but the fire always tells him the boy is still there

- He sits by the entrance for a while just talking, about the tribe, about the village, about anything just to try to tell the boy he’s not by himself anymore

- The food never gets eaten and Sokka starts to worry about it, he calls in to tell the boy that he’s going to come to the entrance, he’s not going to come in, not going to look at him, he just wants to show him the food is safe

- So he does, trying to be confident in the idea that he isn’t about to be set on fire, eats a spoon of the soup and a drink of the water in view and puts it back

- The next morning the bowl is empty, the water gone and Sokka finally feels some relief

- He starts to spend time just sitting near the edge of the cave, reading a book he borrowed from Gran Gran

- Each time he does he can hear the boy coming closer, shuffling along the wall of the cave

- One day, when he knows the boy is close, Sokka slides his hand into the cave and asks the boy’s name

- The boy bumps his hand into Sokka’s and a small flame writes in the snow

- ‘Zuko’

[ssspringroll]

DL (sfs, no ads)

They're reminiscent of citrus, ergo, they are citrussy.

Not much more to say than what's in the image. 18 swatches, some look like a slice of citrus fruit (in both realistic and unrealistic colors) and others were just kind of accidents while I was recoloring, but the effect was really really cool so I kept them.

Slider compatible. Custom thumbnail. All ages.

Sclera and shadows and everything were made by hand, the iris is an edit/paintover of one of the slices from this image. There are two versions, one without a spec map, and XSHINY, with the spec map the way I like it, which is super duper shiny. I use a cube map replacer, but if you use the EA cube map, you might prefer the look of the non-shiny one (the preview image up there features the non-shiny version). You can only have one version. My TOU is pretty open, so edit the spec to however you like it, I don't really care.

[lxgentlefolkcomic]

So Mr. Holmes, now you know that the undead are real, how's that exponential reality/worldview expansion treating you? Fewer impossibilities to eliminate, I imagine.

[lizluzz]

Realistic options for what Nandor was writing:

Nothing at all

'Nandor de la Cruz' in different fonts

OUTER SPACE! in big letters

Exactly what Guillermo was writing. This one is supported by the following evidence:

[grissomesque]

Kathryn Janeway + the last moments of the lives she's known

STAR TREK: VOYAGER 7.17 'Workforce Pt. 2' 7.25 'Endgame'

[zzoomacroom]

Retired amnesia Dream + coma Hob for WIP ask game please 🥺🥺🥺

Thank you for the ask! @linzod asked about this one too, and I'm super excited about it! I only have it outlined so far, but I'm hoping to write it once I'm done with the mpreg fic.

So Murphy is just some guy, as far as he knows. He's an artist, and he's kind of a shut-in with no friends and no life to speak of. He starts having really vivid dreams that, unbeknownst to him, are showing him memories of his past life. He also keeps having these recurring dreams where he meets with this guy named Hob who seems really familiar and keeps telling Murphy that he's real, he's been looking for him, he's trapped in the Dreaming and he needs Murphy to find him in the waking world. Murphy doesn't believe any of it, thinks his unconscious mind made the whole thing up, and he's like, "great, I'm so lonely that my sleeping mind made me an imaginary friend." But then he keeps finding clues suggesting that Hob is telling the truth. He goes to the White Horse and, even though it's abandoned and boarded up, he recognizes it from his dreams. He also maybe finds mentions of Hob in historical texts, the drawing of them from the 1789 meeting, etc. So now he understands that it's all true, and he has to find Hob and hopefully regain his memories in the process.

Now I'm going to put what's happening from Hob's perspective under the cut, because it's a plot twist that would be revealed later in the story.

So how did they end up in this situation? Well, after the Wake, Hob became more unhinged than ever and couldn't accept that Dream was dead. So he planned to do a whole "Dream of a Thousand Cats" style thing and have a thousand people dream that Morpheus is alive again. But in order to organize and orchestrate this whole plan, Hob puts himself into a magically induced coma so he can stay in the Dreaming and make sure the plan works. But once it does, he finds himself stuck there. The mysterious and sketchy person he hired to put him into this coma has disappeared, and now he's trapped with no way to wake up. Morpheus keeps finding him when he dreams, so Hob is overjoyed about that but heartbroken that Morpheus doesn't remember him and doesn't believe any of his dreams are real. Eventually, Morpheus finds Hob in the waking world, wakes him up, gets his memories back, and they live happily ever after.

I don't want to give too much away, but I will say that this fic will also feature Death, Delirium, Daniel, Lucienne, Matthew, Johanna Constantine and Mad Hettie.

Hopefully I'll actually be able to get it written before too long 😭

[buwheal]

woah. actual thought out reference?

Completely disregard wtf the reference from a couple weeks (a month?) ago looks like. Completely inaccurate. not sure what I was thinking w/ that one. This time I thought this one through, lol. wahoo!! Ive been kind of lazy and totally leaving out features the past few times Ive drawn him and I dont want that to happen again because he loses all the fun features.

notes written out for those who need it (glances behind my shoulder at the mobile app) under the cut. be warned, its long, lol.

starting from the top left, going across to the right side in rows.

-TURN-AROUND -opt grey hairs/grey stripe. he keeps it evenly colored with car oil. -eyebrow crease opt. -head lifted for convenience (for the pose. Also spelt that wrong on the image whoops) -5" when slouched. -neutral expression. Teeth always visible. -eyebags NOT opt. (Except in certain circumstances.) -"Tail" not usually visible -HORRIBLE posture* -black bottom lip pokes out a little -hands reach knees in reg. posture -Gnarly mullet -Overbite -Constant slouch. -Warped lens/frame -Sweaty & jittery a lot - \___ misc. extremes ___/ -BJD body -Motherboard cover -Plush tummy :-) -wears heart boxers underneath. Not shown. - |dissociating-----|-------disconnected| -sensitive eyes w/o glasses. Squints. - :arrow: Sparratically ejects -overdramatic - *except when actively interacting with someone - 5"1 when standing straight - |forced--|genuine--|?----|???---|

[frostbitebakery]

“General?”

“Yes, Co— 24?”

CC-2224 let the slip of whatever the General had started to say slide.

(Co— what is Co— so familiar, out of grasp, Co— please you need to leave, I need you safe plea— shh, go back to sleep. -dy)

It wasn’t his place to correct him. “We are still establishing control over the airspace. Please keep inside until safety protocols are instituted, Sir.”

(it’s not safe, go, I need you safe please— sleep or we will make you)

The General sighed. “Of course, 24. I’ll be along in just a moment.”

CC-2224 saluted, caught the General looking at him over his shoulder. Yellow burning eyes.

(Shouldn’t they be… sleep blue reboot)

His head is jerked. He jerks his head.

“Stay with me for a minute, Co— 24.”

(Co—? What is Co— so familiar, out of grasp)

He had duties to fulfill, he didn’t have time nor the inclination to watch, what was it, the planet’s sun rise over the distant mountain range. “Yes, Sir.” Fell into parade rest and pretended to not notice the General’s hands shaking. It wasn’t his place. Good soldiers follow orders.

for @elwenyere

[front-facing-pokemon]

[n4rval]

hi I just wanted to say your tags on the gaster poll posts are so correct yessss (always enjoy your takes just in general). thank you for being one of the seemingly very few people out there who also believes there's no way the timeline works for gaster and alphys to have been colleagues. however, him haunting her benevolently is something I'm 1000% here for <3 (also I hope your finals went well and you get to have a nice relaxing break!)

HII HELLO HI im glad you like them!!! knowing you read these motivates me to keep being Absolutely Very Normal About Him on the internet

personally it's less of a believing thing and more of a come on it's written right there thing, but since we're here.

behold! dingus timeline. (and the hottest of takes with freshly baked personal headcanons otherwise what am i doing)

Not a skeleton?

Isn't 201X too early?

Indeed, not a skeleton, but rather, some guy. Something about how monster's bodies are manifestations of their SOUL, and him oddly resembling a strange looking man does well to represent his insatiable curiosity and love for creating. (things humans are known for in a better light)

On the other hand, you will be pleased with how fascinated he is by "FLESHLINGS AND THEIR CALCIUM DEPOSITS".

And then they fucking died.

201X is the year the first human fell into the underground, and shortly after, the royal family has moved to New Home. This means some decent exploration of the cavern has already been made. Scientists could very well already have been working on optimizing life underground, with special attention to the large and ever growing new capital.

My idea? As this idiot has been aiding exploration with his antics, Gerson was the one to appoint him to Asgore. Something about his talent with turning garbage into non-garbage. With a little patience and getting familiar with his odd manerisms, it was not too long until he got to be the prince's weird godfather.

Cracking already?

And everyone was devastated, mainly the close family. Not only that, but amidst your mourning, the one couple responsible for your unrealistically high standards for romance just divorced. Is love even real anymore. You eat ants with your cereal and your work consists mainly of convenience improvements and absolutely nothing groundbreaking. What's the point of breaking that pesky barrier again? Child murder? Come on.

That's the Wingdings PATIENCE and BRAVERY encountered in their adventure. Dear god, you're lame. Aren't you some kind of genius? Get yourself together! And together he got his self, now, he has children to look after. Surely there must be some other way. He must stop coming up with new flavours for chips and find some other way.

... Dear god, the King is going to kill them.

BONES and DT

Listen. He's old. You got your wrinkles, he's got his cracking. What? You meant to point out some major event of injury must have been responsible for his current state of deformity? Well, he's old AND heartbroken. That's a direct blow to the SOUL, okay.

Jokes aside (kind of), doing any lasting damage to a monster is quite difficult given their magic forms can easily be healed through, well, magic. They can, however, eventually "fall" (wink wink) and dust away with age - which cannot, however, be fixed with magic.

With a little determination however ...

Something about the anomaly.

He found it, the other way. It was the bones all along, the so needed sustainance for channelling such a high concentration of that power. Well, not necessarily, but a boney structure will endure much more and last much longer than a meaty one. Also, it looks so cool.

You know this guy, he gets first dibs on any and all dubious substances that might or might not deal the last hit to the nail on his coffin dust urn(?). And when it all works out (dubious), he might as well play a little. What kind of things can he make? With the material properties of these calcified remains infused with his own magic, animated with determination.

Some new, powerful magic tricks?

A new kind of monster, maybe?

DARK, DARKER, YET DARKER.

There is a lot of interesting things one can do with isolated DT, aside from making bones rattle with life - for example, peeking onto the complex layers and ramifications of what composes reality. This is when the already kooky scientist grows a little mad; manic, if you will. This is the Wingdings sans was familiar with.

Time travel this, resets that, blah blah blah alpha timeline, the anomaly, the angel, the anomaly again, all things that only make sense to him and his illegible mess on the black board. The lack of detail is killing him, he needs to know what it is - what it does, why it does, how it does. Not to stop it, no, there is no stopping it.

Rather, an overwhelming need to understand it.

He falls somewhere in recent history, details of it left ambiguous. The shattering, combined with the amount of DT running in his magical... mathematical physiology, rendered all of his self but an espectator of his reality; confined to the code and unable to do anything but watch, powerless before the nature of his very being, like a corrupted program.

It is all rather frustrating, besides the burden that is coming to terms with simply not existing anymore, watching was pretty much all this research was and now ever will be. That is, until something interacts with him. It is different from the tragic prince, whom no matter how much DT he's accumulated, he is just as confined to this world's rules as other elements. Not this one, not the force from beyond. Not "YOU".

He makes it a mission to reach out, despite the limits of the code, to give away bits and pieces of him and see if you bite. But not too much, he's seen how you tend to exhaust a world for knowledge, something he can oddly sympathize with. I mean, what will you do once you find everything? One cannot fully know a person.

Maybe in another world, prophetized by a cute, little white dog. A much better world for everyone, without so much as war or disease, his greatest creation yet. And he could invite you to it, to experience bewilderment, to be reminded of wonder. If it could even help you, wherever you are, to deem your own world worth of partaking ... then the experiment was a success.

[doverstar]

when I explain to you that Ten is the equivalent of Enamored Smurf in the Doctor lineup