#conkers corner

[conkers-thecosy]

Alright ducklings, got a question for you!

Do I up the rating on “Backs to the Wall” from an M to an E, or leave it as it is? Do you want me to write full smut for it, or a simple curtain drop like I did with “Poet”?

[conkerfrog]

"But Sir! That's suicide!"

*CHOOM*

Studio Series Gamer Edition Megatron

[flovey-dovey]

I said, come here!

~

Technically second time drawing them but I'm super proud of how far I've come since the first! It's interesting seeing old art with recent art side by side. Really boosts the morale :3

[lordoftherazzles]

Bookbinder//Songwriter

bagginshield | band/bookshop au | explicit

Thorin Durinul has always dreamed of making it to the big leagues in the music industry. Ered Luin’s newest citizen, Bilbo Baggins, an aspiring writer and all-around bookworm, has recently taken ownership of the mountain town’s dusty old corner shop, now, Bag End Books. They weren’t looking for love, but now they can’t imagine tackling life’s challenges without each other.

Chapter 14: Milestones

This was a place that had supported the Durinul family in more ways than just financially with Dis working there. It was a place that had helped lift Thorin back up after the loss of his father and brother, and had served as a great place to build a following. Nothing was going to tear him away from his mountain town, and those who had acted as a family to him when his had been lost—and he knew Dis felt the same way. 

“Do you have a set list prepared for tonight?”

“We thought it might be fun to play on request only. Let the crowd tell us what they want to hear, whether covers or originals,” Thorin shrugged, spotting the bar, and pausing as he took it all in.

“Looks like a packed bar to me, I should have worn my shirt…” Bilbo lamented in humor before tugging Thorin along, and shouldering his way through the front door. “I call dibs on the first request of the night—”

Taglist beneath the cut. If you want to be added or removed from this list, please let me know! Reblogs are appreciated! 💖

@conkers-thecosy @mirkwood @thedragonsmaug @hermoonself @elvain @myeaglesong @lucigoo @yacrimago @glamdolf @cilil @thetempleofthemasaigoddess @mysandwichranaway @hotgyros69 @mathelaw

[theladyofbloodshed]

A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter 3 (aka Beron is a bastard)

The cream stone house was nestled near the edge of a forest. The grounds were encompassed by tall hedges with great trees of the forest bowing over it as if they were peering in. There was only one set of gates at the far end of the property near the paddock for the horses. Orla had two of them that were used to carting patients who were unable to walk.

It was a decent enough size, certainly only a wealthy family could afford such a place if it were in the mortal lands though it was not as vast as the manor Tamlin’s coin had purchased for the Archerons. Nesta liked this home better already. Past the orchard of apple trees, there was a well-tended to garden with beds that were filled with flowers like flames. Yellows and oranges flanked the winding stone path amongst the tall grasses.

Eris led on, his pace gentle. Occasionally, he let out a sharp whistle, pressing his teeth into lip, if one of the smokehounds strayed from the path over Orla’s flowerbeds.

At the end of the path was an arch of twisting vines and honeysuckle flowers. Faintly, Nesta could hear the buzz of a bumblebee as it sought pollen. She heard Eris tut and shake his head.

‘Step back a moment, please.’

The male withdrew a long knife from the sheath on his hip and cut away the overgrown vines that had snaked over the benches, claiming them for their own.

‘Orla doesn’t like to come here anymore, but it’s too pretty to fall to ruin.’

Instead of her arm, Eris took Nesta by the hand this time stepping carefully over the discarded plants and burning them to ashes in his wake.

She thought that he might take the bench next to her to put some distance between them, but the male sat beside her. Despite the warm day, his flames curled in a spiral formation in the brick firepit in front of the two benches. His face was unreadable mostly, but in those amber eyes, Eris sifted through years of memories.

Nesta imagined Orla here with her husband, in this quiet corner of the garden. A place Eris could come to as an escape from life as Beron’s son. How many hours had the three spent here? 

Nesta raised her chin to peer over the rose bushes. She could still make out the roof of the house, but this secret garden had been invisible from the opposite perspective. It was peaceful. A sanctuary from prying eyes.

‘It’s beautiful here.’

Eris gave a slow bob of his head, inhaling the rich scents of the garden. ‘Autumn can feel tedious when it’s all you have, yet the moment I’m out of its grasp, I yearn for home. Do you ever have the same feeling?’

No. Nesta didn’t know how it felt to miss a place. Nowhere had ever felt like a home. Not a place she could belong or a place she wanted to stay. And how badly she did want to set down roots somewhere.

‘I cannot say I do.’

‘Perhaps the Autumn Court will sway you. Spring is a time for re-birth and new beginnings but I’m sure the poets have written something sophisticated about Autumn. Everything has a time to die, all things must end.’ Eris frowned. ‘I’m a terrible poet.’

‘Autumn is my favourite season.’

At her voluntary information, Eris perked up. ‘Why?’

‘Blackberries.’

It felt silly to say it. Winter was dreadful. It came with a bitter cold that no amount of firewood could chase away. She always longed for spring because it brought hope and blue skies. The summer was fine, she supposed, though her allergies had her hiding indoors for most of it. Autumn had always been special. Nesta hoped those long evenings would never end, that winter would never come. She loved the beauty as trees scattered their leaves like unwanted gold. She loved to crunch through piles of them or to collect acorns and conkers. More than anything, Nesta loved the early days of autumn where fat, ripe blackberries hung off brambles so they could stuff their bellies with them without having to spend their last coins on something delicious.

‘Apple and blackberry crumble. With a dollop of clotted cream. I would give my first-born child away for it.’  

‘I’ve never had it.’

Eris gasped dramatically, a hand clutched over his chest. ‘We’ll have it for pudding.’

‘You can cook?’ That was a surprise. Nesta thought the gender roles of the Autumn Court would be rigid, especially for a high lord’s son.

He shook his head hurriedly then said, ‘We’ll ask Orla to make it for pudding – but we can collect the fruit. I’m certain we can manage that.’

The pockets of silence threatened to envelop Nesta again. The bad feelings were returning, that awful grey place where she’d existed before being dragged to the House of Wind where her feelings battled against the roar of emptiness. In the lulls of their conversation, Nesta felt like she was waking from a strange dream. It was as if Illyria never happened, the pregnancy never happened, Hybern had never ruined her.

‘Nesta,’ Eris said gently. ‘I do not expect you to like me and I will not justify my actions because they are done with my court’s interest in mind. That said, it is rare that I ever act without considering every option – then second guessing each one. I suppose what I am trying to say is that when I brought you here, for once in my life, I didn’t think of the consequences. And that’s rare for me.’

One ankle was crossed over his knee. The male was handsome in a way that fitted him. On others, the features might not have meshed well. The milk white skin, amber eyes that reminded Nesta of a hawk, a long, straight nose, and hard angles as if carved from stone. There was no softness to him – yet Nesta had seen smiles from him since she was brought here, the clinical tone banished. He hadn’t sneered or delighted in her misery as she might have expected.

‘We find ourselves now facing a – for lack of a better word – shit storm.’ He tipped his head back, letting the sun wash over his pale face. ‘It’s entirely your choice what we do next. I am meeting with them in a handful of days in the Hewn City. Either we can inform them that you’re safe and well here or we can keep silent.’

Would they even be worried about her? Was it a burden that they no longer had to worry about? Or would they be incensed that she was living beneath Beron’s imposing shadow? Nesta thought of the blades she had Made – their decision to vote on that knowledge had been the flame that helped her descend all ten thousand stairs. They would be sore that they had lost their creature from the Cauldron who did their bidding.

‘I’m not ready to go back.’

Not ready to face Cassian or Rhysand. Even thinking of the former was akin to tearing out her own heart. Nesta took a moment to lament the progress the priestesses had been making. If she didn’t return then likely many of them would recede back to the library. She had been that bridge connecting them from the library to the training ring. Gwyn’s bright, happy face pushed to the forefront of her mind then Emerie’s. Her friends who she’d left behind.

‘You have already done so much for me, but I need to ask for more.’

Anger rippled across Eris’ face. ‘Do not say that. You were forced to traipse after that brute like a dog. He had you sleeping on the hard ground worse than animal. That bastard, Rhysand, threatened to kill his own sister. I didn’t do enough Nesta. When the rivers of Illyria run red then I’ll have done enough.’

There were the glimpses of the male she expected to meet, sharp and cutting, full of hatred. But she could give no defence to Cassian or Rhysand. Couldn’t find it in herself to muster any reasoning why Eris shouldn’t hurt them.

‘Apologies,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘That was crude. Please, whatever you need, it shall be done.’

‘Can a letter be taken to Illyria?’

Through fumbling through Orla’s study, Eris found a pen and paper for Nesta to write to Emerie. It was the safest option, and somehow her friend would get the message to Gwyn. Hastily, she wrote that she was safe and well, not to worry about her, but to continue their training.

Eris asked if he could read it. His brow bunched with distaste. ‘Why aren’t you telling her the truth?’

‘I don’t want to bring trouble to Autumn.’

‘Not that. Why haven’t you told her why you’ve had to leave? What they did to you. You don’t need to protect these people, Nesta. They do not deserve your kindness. Your friends love you. They deserve to know what monsters they live alongside.’

There should have been guilt over her betrayal, but Nesta found that once her hand began to spill the secrets of her heart, she could not stop it. Her hand flew over the paper, covering side after side, right from the beginning of why she was taken to the House of Wind. Not a single stone was left unturned. Nesta could acknowledge that she had done things that were not acceptable, crossed lines, pushed too far. But the others were not innocent. The only secret she kept was her whereabouts – and the unlikely male who had come to rescue.

Eris remained at the table with a dog between his legs, fussing his ears throughout. When Nesta had finished, for a reason she could not name, she offered it for him to read. It was a test of sorts. Nesta had written everything. She measured her breathing as Eris skimmed the loping lines of her letter. He paused near the end, where Nesta had explained how the inner circle had voted on her Made weapons. This was the moment where Nesta expected a cavalry charge to drag her to the Forest House where she’d be at the mercy of Beron Vanserra. Her power could create unstoppable weapons – and that was only a drop of it. But then Eris raised his brow and continued reading until the end.

‘I’ll have to wait until its dark, but I should be able to manage it.’

‘If it’s too dangerous, please don’t. You’ve already risked a lot for me, but I do not want you hurt on my behalf.’

Eris’ stare went through Nesta. It was an unflinching thing that bore down on her, demanding to see all of her.

‘It will be done, Nesta.’ Eris stood, the dog following him as he moved across the red tiled floor of the kitchen. ‘Now, we need to feed you – and I think a cup of tea would be delicious.’

She thought at first he had been talking to the dog until tea was mentioned. Eris would not let her skip a meal. Nesta was beginning to feel unsettled too without the rigor of training then the library. The lack of routine was causing a panic that nibbled at her edges. She had grown too comfortable with the life laid out for her by the inner circle.

Orla had left a little basket of cheese scones covered over by the window with directions to various jars of chutneys if they wished. Neither of them could figure out how to light the stove in Orla’s kitchen for tea.

‘Don’t look at me. I’m a pampered heir. This is my first time in a kitchen,’ Eris said, screwing his eyes into slits as he examined the stove once more as if it might yield its secret now.

‘There’s no guarantee the magic will make you the high lord though. I thought it could choose differently.’

Eris nodded in agreement. ‘That is true. Generally, it does pass to the eldest who will have spent their entire life preparing for it. Maybe the magic knows that I’d be best equipped to inherit it.’

‘But it could be Lucien,’ Nesta hedged, wondering if she’d see the infamous cruel streak of Eris Vanserra at the mention of his exiled brother. She almost wanted to glimpse his temper, to see whether the rumours were true.

Something odd passed over Eris’ face. She couldn’t name the emotion. Not anger. Not irritation. His face faltered, the easy smile flashing like a grimace for a moment, then he said, ‘No. It will not be Lucien.’

Eris shook away whatever cobwebs had clung to him at the talk of Lucien and pressed a palm to his forehead. ‘The trouble with such a vast education is that sometimes common sense can be in short supply. They’re unable to teach such a skill.’

A bead of red flame grew in his palm like a moss until the whole thing was engulfed. Flames trickled over his hand, not burning the skin. With his spare hand, he held the copper kettle above it, boiling the water that way.

‘A very clever trick.’

Eris bowed his head. ‘I have my uses. They are few and far between, but they do exist.’

The self-deprecating humour made Nesta’s lips press into a smile. Eris gasped.

‘That was a smile. It does happen.’

‘It was more of a grimace than anything.’

Eris scoffed at her measly attempt at denial. ‘Babies look as if they’re smiling when really it’s trapped wind. Twenty-four to the fae is practically a baby still. Do you need me to burp you or can you manage?’

Nesta was at a loss for words. Here was the vindictive son of Beron Vanserra who Mor trembled at the mention of. He had cultivated a reputation of violence and cold, cut-throat savagery. But Nesta couldn’t help herself smiling again as he stood teasing her, his amber eyes bright with amusement. The kettle was still held aloft, flames encircling it from below.  

‘You are very…’ Nesta wasn’t sure what word to select.

‘Handsome? Charming?’

‘Strange,’ she settled on.

Eris’ laughter was loud, but genuine. Nesta doubted that anybody had called him that in his long life – and whether she’d find her neck on a chopping block before the day was out. In spite of herself, his laughter made her smile for the first time in days, a true smile.

***

Bit by bit, hour by hour, Eris coaxed life back into Nesta. He had to be soft and gentle – behaviours that were rare enough for him to display – to manage the despicable treatment she’d endured in the Night Court. In the moments where his guard slipped and glimpses of the male he could be with such a select number came out, Nesta seemed to shine. Earning her smiles became a competition for Eris. He wanted to see them all. The shy ones that she hid quickly, the ones that started slow but spread across her face – and the rarest of all, the ones where she laughed and scrunched up her nose.

Once Orla returned home after a day spent seeing to families riddled with fever and sickness, Nesta volunteered to help her cook. Dutifully, she listened and followed instructions. In the moments where a stillness passed over them, Nesta would become forlorn, her lips parting and eyes filling with emptiness. So Eris threw everything he had at her, every terrible play on words to make her scoff, every embarrassing anecdote about him and Orla to make her lips twist into a smile, every trick he’d managed to teach Artyom that served no purpose except to show off.

With the fruit they had picked earlier, Orla obliged them and made a crumble. Once it was finished, Eris found that he didn’t want to leave. Nesta was quiet, offering little to the conversation once Orla had returned, but she listened in with interest. He knew that the female wasn’t even an acquaintance, that he could not compare her character to the glimpses of the past, but Eris knew somehow that Nesta was not right. She was not well. She was not… not happy. And he found it difficult to leave her overnight without probing into her upset and trying to fix it all. Worse still was the fact that he did not know why he felt the desire to bring her happiness. He didn’t know the female. Didn’t need her company or owe her anything. But she had carved herself into his memories the day she stood in front of Prythian’s high lords and made Beron Vanserra still. She had made him listen.

The letter Nesta had written for her Illyrian friend had been an eye opener. It had taken all of his control not to burn the Hewn City to ash the moment he’d finished it. Eris didn’t care about her powers in that moment or what might happen to the court’s exulted high lady. He cared only that Nesta was safe now. She was away from those people and he’d ensure she was taken care of. Well, him and Orla.

For now, Nesta was caught in a limbo where she missed the place but did not want to be part of it. Nesta was wasted in the Night Court. There was more she could do, more she could be, than the same snarling warrior they churned out year after year. When she was ready for the truth, Eris would tell her. The brute did not deserve her. He would always be Rhysand’s dog, his loyal companion. Her sisters did not deserve her. The Night Court did not deserve her. If that was how they treated the sister of the high lady then Eris dreaded to think what life was like for the other females. Nesta would have her safety first then she would grow.

Even if he did not want to, Eris had to say goodbye. He’d neglected a day of paperwork for the first time in his adult life. It was the only time he could remember not picking up a pen or barking an instruction at someone. The webs he weaved required constant observation lest they gather dust or be torn down. Nesta had captured his attention like an unsolvable puzzle. And so Eris said goodbye with the promise that the tutor would arrive in the morning. Nesta had to have that hope of a future to keep her pushing through each sunset. She needed to want to see the dawn.

Under the cover of darkness, Eris fell into the same regime with Ashur, switching positions within the forest before he winnowed to Illyria to deliver the letter.

Windhaven was quiet which was a mercy. Nesta had done her best to describe the location of the shop within the camp, but anybody without wings was noticeable. Eris kept his hood up, head pointed down as he crossed the sloppy mud roads towards the western portion of the camp. Red hair was an Autumn Court trait. He did not need anybody to catch sight of him and whispers to reach the ears of the ruling council.

The shop was dark, expected at the late hour, so Eris didn’t linger. Merely pushed the envelope through the letterbox and slipped back into darkness. He had fulfilled Nesta’s wish – the only thing she could name as a want. It still twisted Eris’ gut. They had eroded her into nothing.

At the return to his rooms at the Forest House, he halted. The guards on duty were not his favoured ones, though of course he was subtle in his favour, but these were his father’s loyal dogs. The door was ajar which meant he had a visitor.

Eris showed no outward signs that this displeased him; he’d learned long ago never to let a single crack show in his armour. His father’s sentries were his birds and spiders, carrying songs and weaving webs on his behalf.

As bold as brass, Beron Vanserra rifled through the paperwork on Eris’ desk. Some might leaf through carefully to leave no traces that they had been there. Not Beron, he ensured his presence was felt. He had to remind all of his court that he had the utmost right to do whatever he pleased whenever he wished.

‘You rearranged a meeting with Wode.’

His father did not turn from the desk that he continued nosing through, no acknowledgement that he cared. The sentries wouldn’t have allowed anybody else to enter save for Eris.

‘The bridge in Altor Hay is undergoing reconstruction. Progress is slow, my lord.’

Beron turned to him then, brown eyes lacking any warmth. ‘It required your eye? I had not known you to be a labourer.’

Eris smiled tightly. ‘It required my encouragement, my lord. The bridge will be in use by the morning.’

It was an easy lie. Altor Hay was a village too far for Beron to care about but it connected two farming towns. As long as their taxes came in on time and in full, he would leave the village alone. Eris had many of his own males there with their families. They were his loyalists; a stronghold in the West close to the border to the Summer Court. Eris helped the rumours that the lesser fae were simple savages to keep his father content, but females that he and Orla assisted could reside there safely or continue onto Summer. If any of his father’s males were sent, the villagers would back up any lie, claiming Eris had been there throughout the day commanding them.

‘Come.’

Beron departed, the sentries flanking him down the corridor with Eris leaving a good distance behind them. They diverted course down a thin corridor that never seemed to warm, the stone always felt damp. Eris’ stomach gave its involuntary lurch once he realised where they were headed.

Down, down, down they went into the cellars running beneath the Forest House. He’d had his first drink here, sneaking down with friends to sip his father’s wine from the vast barrels. First kiss with a timid servant who’d blushed as much as he had when their lips had fumbled together. All of them were dead. Slain on Beron’s orders for minor indiscretions. It was a way to isolate Eris as much as any.

Manacles hung from the ceiling. They were taut under the weight of the male hanging from them. Phelan, the fourth born child of Beron Vanserra, knew better than to react at the sight of his high lord entering. Sentries cut his shirt away, leaving him bare chested for the interrogation.

Beron was sadistic and cruel, but he was efficient too. Eris needed no instruction to retrieve the bullwhip while his father began the interrogation. It was a well-practised dance. Each brother had hurt the others on their father’s orders in a sick determination to prove their obedience to him rather than solidarity with each other. Eris could refuse but Uther would be fetched instead and Eris would find himself hanging beside Phelan for the same treatment.

Each crack of the whip echoed in the underground chamber. Beron only ever spoke during these moments to ask quiet questions – and they were more unnerving that way. It was rare he ever raised his voice. He had no need to.

He questioned his son on the rumours of him cavorting with a lesser fae female. Eris had spread the lie for two reasons; he knew the scandal of Lucien choosing a lesser fae still incensed Beron – and Uther was too over friendly with females. It had been easy to believe. Guilt no longer plagued Eris. Beron had turned them all into villains. Uther likely had slept with lesser fae, likely had hurt them more than pleasured them. None of the Vanserra males were good. Their father had ensured they couldn’t be.

Uther denied it all, no matter how bloody his back was. He could barely speak, barely breathe through the pain, but he still managed to deny Beron’s words. Even Eris’ arm ached from raising the whip above his head and lashing it down upon Uther’s back.

At the signal, the sentries released Uther onto the stone floor. He managed to crawl to his knees and dip his head in submission. The angry lashes bleeding ruby ribbons down his torso.

‘You did well, Phelan. You may go.’

The breaths he took were ragged, but he managed to say, ‘Thank you, my lord.’

The title of high lord was revered by Beron whereas father was reviled. All of his sons knew better than to refer to him as their father lest they wanted to invoke his ire. He was their high lord. The fact that he had sired them was inconsequential.

Servants were called for to scrub the floor clean of the blood despite the late hour. Eris kept his face blank, unfeeling, as they worked. He knew his own investigation was still ongoing; Beron’s eyes flitting to him often. It was his lie that had his brother bleeding and in chains, but Eris didn't like his brother enough to care.

‘Was there proof, my lord?’

Beron shook his head. ‘I wanted to see if he was weak enough to confess simply to end his punishment. For once, my son has proved me wrong.’

@owllover123 @rarephloxes

[dalliansss]

some celegorm headcanons

For @antares0606​ who triggers my worlding love for Turko

Prefers to be called Turko. 

Joined the Great Hunt at the age of 25 by elven reckoning

The fifth Elda to be accorded the great honor of induction into the Great Hunt by Oromë

Has honey-blond hair, which he often styles in buns or ponytails.

Weapons of choice: crossbow, longbow, sword and spear

- One of the very few elves who have the innate ability to speak the various languages of nature.

- Accorded the honor of Great Hunter when he was 500. He is one of the ten Eldar who managed the feat. Gothmog, previously known as Kosmoko, was a Great Hunter of Oromë. 

- Best friends with Irissë and Curufin. 

- Encouraged Irissë to do her utmost to be part of the Hunt. Irissë eventually also became a Huntress of Oromë (to her mother Anairë’s great disappointment).

- Is fond of giving younger cousins nicknames. Fingon he calls Shortcake, because Fingon is short and terrible (in combat). Finrod he calls Sunshine. Turgon he calls Cardboard (for the awesome spectrum of emotion he shows). Angrod he calls Conkers (because Angamaitë; Angrod packs a punch). 

- At one point in time he had about 30 dogs in his kennels.

- Does not actually handle his money. Caranthir and Curufin handle his wealth and funds. He does not even know how much he earns. 

- He is actually considered one of the fairest princes of the Noldor.

- Gets mistaken for a Vanya 90% of the time. He gets mightily annoyed by this.

- By the time Angrod was eligible to join Formenos Summer School System, he had effectively replaced Maedhros as the Ultimate Big Brother, because by that time Maedhros was already busy being a prince with Fingon. 

- Before the Great Hunt ventures, it is tradition for the Hunters of Oromë to go home and ask their family for blessings, for good fortune. When Turko had been young, Fëanor gave this blessing. Eventually it was Nerdanel who did so. But as Turko got older, he stopped asking his parents, and instead asked of it from Maedhros. Even in Beleriand, he always asked Maedhros for blessing before he ventured on a hunt. 

- Taught all the younger cousins and siblings the most crucial skill of hunting for one’s food, or foraging for it. Also how to clean and cook food. And how to survive in the wild. Also how to deal with various beasts, if and when they are cornered. He may have taught lessons on how to subdue werewolves as well.

- As a Hunter, it is his great delight, honor and joy to provide food for his family and loved ones. He absolutely loves feeding people he loves. Turko’s love language is food-giving. If he feeds you, he loves you.

- Third best cook in the entire House of Finwë, after Fëanor and Maedhros.

- Cuts the imposing sight in his full Hunter’s regalia: furs, pelts, enchanted tattoos and war paints.

- Has a lot of brewster friends. Gargles with wine and beer, the better to taste the drinks with. Disgusts half of his family once he does so.

- Absolutely refuses to marry, saying his heart belongs to the freedom of the Hunt; and his place is in the wild plains and forests, beside brooks and rivers and waterfalls. 

[game-boy-pocket]

I've been decorating the space where I keep my consoles with Amiibo, figurines, action figures, and other merchandise that is relevant to the content of the console. I have my "main" collectibles shelf too, so i'm really only using characters I have multiples of, or characters that don't fit on the shelf.

The very toppest tier is my Wii shelf, though i'm honestly also counting it as Gamecube. I'm trying to represent New Super Mario Bros but it's missing yellow Toad. Wind Waker, Metroid Prime, and Sonic Adventure is repped here... also my Universeal Studios dancing piranha plant, mostly because I have nowhere else to put it.

My NES Shelf has classic Link and Mario, Ice Climbers, Little Mac, ROB ( because i'll never likely be able to get a real Rob ) the Duck Hunt Dog, and classic Kirby ( Though he'd probably better be displayed with Gamboy, but I have no Gameboy shelf yet. ) Also, those Battle Toads figures, which are much larger than I was expecting, and arrived super late. I was tempted to cancel the order, they were very pricy. But I got attached. I wonder if they'll ever release Pimple... oh yeah, and the NES controller Piggy Bank. There's also some classic Donkey Kong decal my brother got me from a game stop.

My N64 shelf which is the most crowded ( also I need to dust my N64. Despite the way it looks, i've been playing it quite a bit lately. ) I got the Banjo and Conker Totaku, and and OOT Link figure. Yoshi representing Yoshi Story, and the Hot Wheels Diddy Kong as a makeshift Diddy Kong Racing figure, though the kart is all wrong. I put Gruntilda back there because of the actual Gruntilda doll in both Banjo games, she also turns up in a lot of the BK mods I love playing. But she takes up so much space I may need to relocate her until I get a bigger room and more shelving... whenever that may be. I kind of want to put all the N64 era Taco Bell toys on this shelf but there is no room, also, I don't have any of them, they all seem relatively cheap to get on E-bay though, with the exception being the Yoshi. It's just as well because that Yoshi looks more SNES era anyway...

And then you have my sad, sad SNES shelf... Classic Yoshi. Donkey Kong. And Ness. Really not sure what else I can even do for this shelf without removing a character I don't have doubles of from the main shelf. I do have a Geno Doll that I ordered off Etsy on the way, or at least it should be on the way in February or March. He'll spice it up a bit. What SNES specific stuff could I put here though? I know Jakks Pacific made Star Fox toys but they're all kind of big, and are closer to the N64 designs than their SNES versions. There's criminally no ALTTP figures that I am aware of.

In the future I'd like a shelf for handhelds, a Sega Genesis, and a Playstation, they hopefully won't be difficult to decorate, and hopefully by then, I won't be stuck using this tiny corner tower, so i'll have more room. I also would like a shelf for my Switch, which is currently just sitting next to my PC monitor.

[be-compromised]

Halloween 2022 Masterlist

Thank you to everyone who took part in the Halloween 2022 Trick or Treat Prompt Challenge! The masterlist is below for your perusal. (If you didn’t manage to finish your fill/s on time, please feel free to share them at any time. We’ll still appreciate them, they just won’t be added to the masterlist. We're now counting down to Secret Santa...)

Halloween Masterlist 2022

Trick 2: Cemetery

Post Mortem

by

investigatory_suspect

(Teen and Up; grief/mourning, canonical canon death)

Summary: They danced with the specter of death long before they greeted it. Fifteen moments in Natasha's life (and the lives of those she loves) shared with Death.

Trick 3: Handcuffs

Idle Hands

by

fadedwings

 (Teen; slightly sexually suggestive)

Trick 5: Haunted

Haunted

by

@inkvoices

 (Teen and Up; off-screen murder, some murder may be open to interpretation)

Summary: “Don’t scream,” Natasha says, holding onto Yelena’s shoulders with both hands and leaning down to look her in the eyes.

Trick 5: Haunted & Treat 4: Crunchy Leaves

Boneyard

by

@alphaflyer

 (Teen & Up; choose not to warn/no AO3 warnings apply)

Summary: Boneyard:

slang

. a cemetery.

slang

. an area where old or discarded cars, ships, planes, etc., are collected prior to being broken up for scrap or otherwise disposed of.

Treat 2: Conkers

Conkers

by

@cassiesinsanity

 (Gen; no warnings apply)

And a shout out to

@caiti-creative-corner

 who created a moodboard for every. single. prompt. Available on

AO3

or on tumblr at the links below. Enjoy!

Trick 1. Spicy -

Who Needs Sugar?

(T)

Trick 2. Cemetery -

HauntedRestrained

(T)

Trick 4. Cold -

Autumn Rain

(T)

Trick 5. Haunted -

Where Fear Dwells

(T)

Trick 6. Zombie -

Infection

(T)

Trick 7. Nightmare -

Wake Me Up

(T)

Trick 8. Scarecrow -

Strawman

(T)

Trick 9. Mystery -

Where Are You?

(T)

Trick 10. Scream -

A Dimming of the Light

(T)

Treat 1. Sweet -

Sweet as Candy

(T)

Treat 2. Conkers -

Competition at All LevelsCooking with Magic

(T)

Treat 4. Crunchy Leaves -

Taking a Day Outdoors

(T)

Treat 5. Pumpkin -

Sit on a Pumpkin

(T)

Treat 6. Snuggle -

On My MindKnitting is the Saving of Life

(T)

Treat 8. Hayride -

Back to the Farm

(T)

Treat 9. Magic -

Blended Magic

(T)

Treat 10. Apple -

Autumn Spice Flavors

(T)

[conkers-thecosy]

You know what, I'm super glad for the bagginshield fandom. It's a lovely little pocket of kind, funny, talented folks, who are all just out here screaming excitedly about a gentle-hobbit and a dwarf king!

[conkerfrog]

Back, and better than ever before!

Buzzworthy Bumblebee Goldbug

[catb-fics]

have you tried putting conkers on your windowsills/corners of the room? I know people say it's just an old wives tale but I've tried it this year and I haven't seen a single spider. Normally they're everywhere in September.

I heard this but I thought it was just an old wives tale. If it actually works I’m gonna do it. There’s a few huge horse chestnut trees I walk past on my way to work but there’s a school nearby so I’ll have to go extra early as all the kids snaffle them! The spider I evicted today had a leg span nearly the size of the top of a pint glass I swear - and it was so fast ughhhhhhh 😭

[epicqtefail]

hello epic qte fail i hope u know that u are endearing and funny and a delight. consciously realizing that ur like. a person with a job and like Other Stuff in ur life is WEIRD cause honestly i was convinced u r just an entity who lives in my phone and made funny images BUT please do not feel the need to apologize for like attending to the other stuff!! without job there is no money and without money there is no food and without food there is no fuel for thunking thoughts about conker and henk. LOVE U

YOU ARE SO SWEET AND KIND AND LOVELY!! and ha ha yeeeah toootally a real person who does real person things like, uh, consume food item for thinking energy... Glycololysysis, am i right fellow people? *raises my very real tangible hand that i definitely have for a high five* '''':^}

fghjiijl, I do not want to deceive you into thinking i've been forced into nothing but work, i just bit off more than i could chew solely because i'm an idiot, it's my fault and underneath all the woe-is-me it's an opportunity i'm grateful for,, and only temporary! i hope to be back on my bullshit soon. i have 2 brain cells, their names are Hunk and Corner and the tandem bike they're pedalling can only generate so much brain power. I know where i'd rather spend it.

p.s. Thank you!! LOVE U TOO !!!

[statichorizon]

A drawing that i wanted to do more with originally but ehhh now i just wanna post something lol.

here we have kazooie ripping on conker for his taste in music (which seems to be either some type of black metal or hard noise band depending on the logo in the corner)

and also that thing where couples where each-others shirts as pajamas.

[puppetself]

Me in the corner: They don't know how much I love and obsess over Conker.

[thismyhouseofblood]

about me

Ayy, I'm sadie!! I'm relatively new to tumblr in the sense that I've never made an acct before. Really wanted to cut out my own little niche corner of the internet to share my creations and maybe socialize a little? idk.

I'm 26 and just shy of a full year on hormones

Birthday's Aug 15th; leo ☀️, Capricorn 🌙, libra ☝️

I have an interest in Buddhism and find hellenic polytheism fascinating.

I've made some music in the past but I'm mostly a visual artist and it's more of a hobby than an actual passion.

My blood is probably made up entirely of horror movies, video games, and cartoons/animation. There's nothing better than being scared or having a laugh.

Favorite Movies- Terror of Mechagodzilla (Godzilla is a huge interest for me in general), Day of the Dead ('85), SLC Punk, The Man With Two Brains, Near Dark, Paris Texas, Blood Simple, Wild At Heart, The Vanishing (Spoorloos), Existenz, Vampire Hunter D Bloodlust, My Neighbor Totoro, etc.

Favorite Series- Ultraman (Taro being my absolute favorite), Paranoia Agent, Soul Eater, Cowboy Bebop, Twin Peaks/The Return, Tales From The Crypt, Warehouse 13, Star Trek, X Files, ALF, TMNT, Courage The Cowardly Dog, Ed Edd n' Eddy, Duckman, Darkwing Duck, Futurama, etc.

Favorite Games- Crash Bandicoot (Twinsanity is #1 but I actually really like Wrath of Cortex and Cortex Strikes Back), Sly Cooper (1-3), Fallout NV and 3, Halo (I like everything up until 5), Resident Evil (pretty much everything but I hate Code Veronica), Dark Souls, Bloodborne, Borderlands 2, Hollow Knight, Conker (Bad Fur Day/Live-Reloaded), Kirby, Yoshi's Island, Donkey Kong Country, Luigi's Mansion, Doom (especially D3), and Quake. A ton of other stuff too!!

If anyone wants my other socials lmk ^ . ^

before you follow:

Pls don't bother me if you're a hateful person, it takes so much energy to be mean, why not just be happy? I legit just wanna be left alone to experience life in peace as shitty as it can be sometimes. So if you're a bigot, just don't bother with me. It's literally a waste of yours time, when you could be doing something you enjoy! Also don't bother me if you're a fascist. That's really kind of all I have left to add here.

[divergentpracticejaydenmcchesney]

exhibition plan, time to conker the corner