#Brainstorm screams

[thus-it-is-proclaimed]

Hey hello but what if hobo Phoenix is dating Miles during the 7yg? What if Miles really really tries to be as respectful of his partner’s sense of autonomy and pride as possible?

[further brainstorming of a scene under the cut]

What if he takes Phoenix and Trucy out somewhere- to a festival, maybe, somewhere they could enjoy? What if Phoenix is overly critical of everything? What if he’s sour and bitchy because he feels unworthy of the price of his ticket, because he’s had a hard week, because he and Miles usually like to shit talk together?

What if Miles was really looking forward to this? What if Phoenix’s comments grate on him the whole night? What if Miles suggests Phoenix look at/try something, and is immediately shut down?

What if Miles finally breaks, calls Trucy over, and gently tells her that he will be going for a walk?

What if Phoenix gets angry, because now Miles is leaving again?

What if Miles— in hushed tones to protect innocent ears— demands Phoenix let go of his wrist because “We are not doing this in public. I am NOT doing this in a public setting—” and he leaves to save his composure?

What if Trucy knows, and tells her father, that he’s hurt Miles’ feelings?

What if Phoenix is surprised Miles does finally come back? What if they have to confront that Phoenix can’t always expect Miles to be able to take his barbed comments? What if- as much as Miles tries- he admits that he can’t always put up with Phoenix’s moods?

What if they love each other enough to not run, to not cling to unrealistic expectations, to understand that they are human?

What if Trucy has never seen that before?

What if Miles hasn’t since his father passed?

What if Phoenix has to learn how to express his negative emotions constructively, instead of pretending he’s invincible until it all overflows and drowns him and his loved ones?

Yeah… wow..

[artzybumpkin]

I Need Your Help...

CW/ mpreg, language, slight angst

Pt. 1

St@nley heard the nauseating sizzle before the pain registered, radiating white hot agony from where the back of his right shoulder made contact with the metallic mass he was pressed against. A tortured scream tore itself from his throat as he tried to wriggle himself away from the hot steel. He crumbled to a heap on the floor, eyes squeezed shut as he gripped his shoulder.

"St@nley!!" F0rd's voice rang as he scrambled up to his feet, a mortified expression plastered to his face as he rushed to his brother, book in hand.

It all happened so fast…

One moment Stanf0rd was explaining the basics of his plan: to take his journal and take it far, FAR away, where it could never be stumbled upon again… and in the next, he ended up tackling his brother to get it back when the latter threatened to burn the damn thing. It turned into a violent game of keep-away, with them pushing and shoving and cursing each other as they each tried to pry it from one another's grasp. The tussle lasted several minutes… and ultimately led him to unintentionally slamming his brother up against the blazing surface of one of his machines.

How could it have gone so wrong?

Breathing harshly through his teeth, St@n stiffly managed to sit upright enough to lean his good shoulder on the doorway, his left hand white-knuckling the fabric of his jacket sleeve as he attempted to quell the feverish throbbing. His vision was blurred, his ears were ringing, and he could just barely make out that a figure was approaching him… speaking to him… or maybe at him, but in that moment it only read as static and noise.

He felt like a cornered animal. And with a fresh rush of adrenaline, instinct overcame rationale in a flurry of pain and pure, pent up rage...

F0rd knelt down in front of him, frantically apologizing and trying to assess the damage. "Ohhh my gosh I'm so sorry!! Are you alr-" but his words were abruptly cut off as St@n's fist made blunt contact with the underside of his chin before he could come any closer, knocking him silly for a brief moment. He stumbled back, dropping the journal, and landed flat on his ass a few feet across from him. He groaned into his hand as it caressed his aching jaw.

"What the HELL is wrong with you??!" St@nley exclaimed scornfully. "Are you CRAZY??!"

"ME??!" came a muffled response before F0rd uncovered his mouth. "You punched me in the FACE!!"

"YOU tackled me to the ground over a goddamn BOOK, you jackass!!" A frustrated, pained sound slipped past St@n's lips. 'Scorched the SHIT outta my shoulder too... fuck!...' he thought bitterly. The pain of the burn was slowly dulling enough to become manageable but was still deafeningly there. "Do you not see how insane that is?? Do you have ANY idea what you could've-... y-you could've..." His face suddenly fell, his complexion somehow paling even more than it already had. Quietly mumbling an inaudible 'Oh no!.,' he shakily fumbled with the zipper of his jacket.

F0rd was about to spat a venomous retort… then all those thoughts vanished as he watched his brother, who's attention was no longer on him at the moment...

Self-consciousness took a back seat as, with a little less effort than he'd like to admit, St@nley all but tore his jacket open... fully revealing the impressively sized bump as he frantically palpated the sides with his free hand. In the heat of the moment, he'd temporarily neglected the fact that he had a passenger on board, and an air of fear and desperation loomed in his eyes as he tried to garner SOME reaction from the babe inside. He couldn't take the possibility of anything happening to them as a result of carelessness on his part. Not after they've stuck with him this long...

After a tense wait, he jumped slightly when he received a harsh yet responsive jab(what was most likely a punch back of annoyance from the little one for disturbing their peace). "Ohhhh you're okay... you're okay..," he breathed, more to convince himself than anyone else, as he let his head fall back against the doorframe.

Meanwhile, F0rd's nerves were steadily building in intensity. Realization hit him with the force of a semi truck, but the shock made it hard to formulate the words that were buzzing in his exhausted brain. How in the world did he not notice until now?!... "St@nley, I... You... Y-You're..?"

St@nley's eyes popped back open, making contact with his brother's... before following his gaze back to his own stomach. He groaned, exasperated. He knew this conversation was coming, he dreaded it the entire drive up here... now the proverbial cat was out of the bag. "Right... um..." He did a half-hearted, one handed mock 'jazz hands' motion. "Surprise, I guess... You're gonna be an uncle."

"Pregnant?!..." came a shrill, horrified whisper.

"Figured that was obvious, poindexter."

"Why didn't you tell me you were PREGNANT??!!"

"Oh I dunno, maybe cuz I thought you were in trouble?? That the message you sent was clearly urgent and you needed HELP??"

Stanf0rd, his head swimming from both the adrenaline rush wearing off as well as the slew of new information he'd just been forced to absorb, promptly flopped to the ground onto his back. He covered his face with his hands, breathing out a rather defeated sound. "I should've never sent that damned postcard..."

St@n huffed. "What? Was I supposed to just NOT come, then?? I didn't haul ass all the way from New Mexico just because! I had to!! You're my freakin' brother, I couldn't leave ya hangin' if I knew you were in trouble!"

"Still..," F0rd let his hands fall from his face and out to his sides. "It was reckless to come all this way when you're in such a..," he fumbled for the right words, " ... condition."

"Do you seriously think I'd skip out on ya over an inconvenience? I'm pregnant, F0rd, not inert."

F0rd opened his mouth as if to respond, but quickly gave up. The pain from where he'd been slugged was starting to made it difficult to speak.

The room went quiet, sans the sounds of machinery blipping, metallic creaking, as well as each of their own attempts to regulate their breathing. They stayed like that for a while, simmering down.

St@nley glanced over to see that the journal, the very thing they were hashing it out over just mere minutes ago, had landed within arms reach of himself. He reached for it, grunting when the movement made his core muscles tense up. He ignored it and and picked the book up. He let go of his shoulder to hold it in both hands, turning it over and inspecting the leather craftsmanship.

Flipping through a few random pages, though the written contents read more or less like Greek to him, it was obvious the sheer amount of love and passion that went into putting the thing together. The time and effort put into the extensive research documented on every single page was astounding. All in his brother's recognizable penmanship…. 'And here I was about to set it on fire..," he thought with a slight pang of guilt.

"What're we doing, Stanf0rd?..," he finally spoke up. "It's not been an hour since I got here and we've already been at each other's throats…"

"Yeah... yeah, no kidding..," F0rd sighed. "We might've lost our heads a bit, there... er, I did..." he admitted, solemnly. "I panicked... reacted rashly..." An apology seemed to hang loosely from his lips, but he didn't quite allow it to slip.

St@nley recognized that but decided not to comment on it. He made an amused sound. This all suddenly felt very familiar. It felt a lot like one of those times when they were just kids, when Ma would not-so-gently encourage them to reconcile after one of their petty skirmishes... skirmishes not unlike that of street cats duking it out over a stolen fish from the boardwalk docks. Seemed it was what Jersey boys did best: Fight. Fight and then make up as if they weren't just about to kick the ever-loving shit out of each other. Oh the nostalgia... Maybe they hadn’t completely changed all that much, after all…

St@n looked back to his brother, who was still sprawled out like a starfish on the floor. A deep sigh rolled from his chest. "Listen..," he started, voice just loud enough to hear over the white noise of the lab, "just so you know, even if there was no emergency... even if there was no rhyme or reason to send for me... I still had every intention to come when you asked me to." He swallowed, hesitating continuing the thought… but pressed on. He needed to say this. "... I wanted to see you, Stanf0rd. I've wanted to for a long, long time..."

F0rd remained quiet, head tilted in his brother's direction, listening.

"I just… after all this time, after all these years, I just thought… maybe you actually wanted to see me again too…"

"..."

"I've missed you, brother…"

F0rd's face softened for a moment, emotions could be seen conflicting behind his eyes. It seemed like he'd wanted so badly to say something... to say anything to clear things up... but right then the appropriate words came up short. He squeezed his eyes shut, steeling himself as he turned back away from St@nley, facing back to the tall ceiling. "You should've stayed home."

And just like that they were plunged back into deafening silence. The gap between them seemed to grow ever so slightly wider once more.

Then, as if on cue (and much to St@horror), an obnoxiously loud but familiar gurgle broke the silence, echoing off the metal bunker walls. His face went beet red as he pressed his hands to his stomach, in a frugal attempt to silence it. "Ah geez…" he mumbled under his breath.

At first it wasn't clear if F0rd had acknowledged the sudden sound or not, as he still laid motionless where he was, but after a moment he let out a soft sigh before limply dragging himself up from the floor, dusting himself off in the process. It was then that he approached his brother... and offered his hand. "Take this to the kitchen?"

From his spot on the floor, St@nley's eyes bounced coldly from F0rd's eyes to his hand before finally accepting the aid. After a quick countdown to 3, and then another as they attempted to get momentum on their side, he was hefted back onto his feet with an unintentional grunt of discomfort. Not only did his shoulder sting like hell, but the already strained muscles in his back knotted up in protest as he stood.

To be honest everything hurt, but he tried not to let it show too much. Instead, he awkwardly shoved his hands back into his pockets.

Er, he attempted to, only to realize in one he still held tight to the leatherback of the journal.

"I didn't come here expecting you to feed me, y'know," he grumbled as he held the book out to his brother, who took it notably less aggressively in comparison to earlier.

"Oh shut up and come eat," F0rd muttered flatly as he passed his brother, meandering lazily towards the elevator. "We'll get a look at that shoulder while we're at it..."

St@n rolled his eyes but diligently followed. His gaze landed on his belly as he walked, where the kid really hadn't stopped moving, obviously still agitated by the rude awakening from earlier. He placed his hand atop the bump just under his ribs, where he could feel what he assumed was their foot. "Your uncle's a real piece of work, kiddo. Remember that."

'But he's family…,' he added mentally to himself, 'Remember that, St@nley...’

TBC

[hashipebbles]

CRAWLS OUT OF THE GROUND,,

[judasofsuburbia]

idk why this picture is making me So Emotional but like!! we're witnessing joe just! makin lil notes!! in a script or maybe a notebook!! maybe writing a song!! lil headphones on!! being an artist!! it's all so god damn precious i love him i love him i love him

[cyclonussexy]

Does he know. Does He Know. Does he even know how bad I need him (he does)

[shummthechumm]

bluestar...does not feel like the type to be a diehard code follower in starclan. not like how they wrote yellowfang.

[starppleb]

Sorry, I'm so not normal abt it.

AWESOME animatic by Whispering_Rozy

[fogsy-feel]

Love the “Yeah he can fuck women or whatever but the moment he even so much as looks at another man I’m murdering him” energy that Billy Loomis brings the table. A queer icon.

[werepuppy-steve]

sometimes fandom is lonely

[amtrak12]

Look OTP shipping is my wheelhouse, but now that I've found the Lucifer discord, I will break out the multi-shipping, secondary shipping, and crack shipping to get more femslash in this fandom 😩 I cannot let this show be so damn het!

[ran-orimoto]

[ In a period of birthdays, of course, also came my friend @teclajellymon birthday. Do I have to explain why I have chosen to draw my Junzumi daughter Ran with her Jellymon friend for her and only herself XD?

Anyway! I’ve taken inspiration from Smith’s Girl seashell at the beach (also called Seashell voices?) ]

Both Ran and Ariel beg the adults from their fams (so also Zio Takuya sometimes ✨✨✨✨, why not?) to take them to some bach near to Tokyo, so they can also shell hunt and listen to the voices of the waves talking about far memories about the sea. They don’t really care if the sky is swollen with clouds, if it’s clearly going to rain. Indeed, may it happen, -and this is how Takuya’s rare patience will go taking a dive-.

[thedeadthree]

-`. OCS AS TYPES OF SUFFERING.

TAGGED BY @chuckhansen, @queennymeria, @shellibisshe, @leviiackrman, @nightbloodbix, @lavampira, @marivenah, @faerune, @socially-awkward-skeleton and @corvosattano to take this uquiz for a few dears !! ty ty!!!!!!

TAGGING: @ruinbringer, @griffin-wood, @duskfey, @jendoe, @aponibolinayen, @pinkfey, @unholymilf, @gwynbleidd, @adelaidedrubman, @carlosoliveiraa, @grapecaseschoices, @flyntz, @jackiesarch, @katsigian, @quickhacked, @full---ofstarlight, @avallachs, @risingsh0t, @dameayliins, @starforger, @vanoefucks, @yennas, @bloodofvalyria, @malefiicarum, @ravensgard, @theviridianbunny, @mrdekarios, @shadowglens, @fenharel, @nokstella, @swordcoasts, @leondaltons and you!!

-`. DESPAIR.

The tunnel never had a light. You wish for nothing because you know you'll receive nothing, and your hopes died out long ago. The only thing that keeps you going is the thrill of emptiness you feel when things don't turn out your way. It's bitter. It's proof. Proof that you don't feel this way for nothing.

-`. THE BLACKHOLE.

There's a hole where your heart used to be and nothing is filling that hollow void. You could drown in a world curated for you, and still nothing seems to fit. It eats you alive knowing you're unsure how to satiate the hunger of your soul. It's barely hunger, it's more like a blackhole.

-`. THE TAKER.

Your expectations are ones you can barely meet. You compare yourself to others, but with a hypocritical light. You'll never find what you're looking for if you're laying down half of what you receive. It stings to be given less than expectations you've set, but if they were more reasonable, do you think even then you'd be happy?

-`. YEARNING.

The pain in your chest bubbles knowing that what you want may never be yours. You're lost in a fantasy world, or consumed by what you wish you were or had as opposed to what you do. It's hard to appreciate what's around you when you're appreciating the hope of what could be instead.

-`. THE GIVER.

Your energy depletes as you hand it out to anyone passing by your basket. People walk by and take, but no one ever leaves. You're constantly running on low when people keep asking you to give. You'd give your soul away for free, and then what left do you have of yourself if you can't say no?

-`. LONELINESS.

Your heart feels full of the connection you feel you lack. No matter how many people are around you, strangers or not….someone is missing. You don't know who, what, or if you'll ever find them. You're unsure if there's a person out there who'll really satisfy your life, so really what's the point of continuing to look?

[royaltea000]

Designing what I think a human Barf and Belch would look like -w-

[boyybites]

Think what I'll do for funsies is post bits and pieces of the map I've made of my oc verse so far and list some tidbits and stuff on who/lives there and the like.

[ghostclangen]

Marshlily dreams of the Dark Forest again. The smell of rot fills her nostrils, and she retches, barely holding down the contents of her stomach. She’d dreamt about it every night for moons now, but she still can’t get used to the squelching of mud between her toes, the only sound in the uncannily silent expanse. What did she do to end up here, so far from StarClan?

She takes a few steps forward, but quickly stumbles. The shaking is worse here, rapid jerks that make it difficult to walk—not that trying to run away would save her. 

“Is anyone here?” she calls, as she always does; her words are chopped up by the tremors that wrack her body. It’s with a frozen feeling in her stomach that Marshlily realizes that that’s not the only thing cutting her off; in what feels like just seconds, her throat has become clogged with foul-tasting blood. She hacks it up, splattering red on the damp ground, but it just keeps coming, choking her more and more by the second no matter how much she coughs and splutters.

This hasn’t happened before. This is new. Panting between coughs, she stares down at the pool of blood that’s growing on the grass before her. She’s faint, fainter than she should be; it’s not so much a loss of blood that makes the world bleary, but a sort of … a sort of … Marshlily shakes her head, unable to think of some way to describe it but finding herself unable to think of the words. 

She digs her claws into the earth to keep herself grounded. Her mind, however, can’t be gathered so easily; the dissolving feeling lingers. I’m all apart, the part of her that remains within in her grasp thinks. Through a mouth of blood, she gives a garbled cry once again: “Is anyone here? Help me!” 

After a few moments of silence, Marshlily hangs her head and whines gutturally. Why does she even try anymore? Nobody ever answers …

And then someone does. 

A familiar voice echoes in her ears, high-pitched and scratchy: “Marshlily …”

Weakly, Marshlily lifts her head, her ears pricked. “... Hornetstar?” she asks. “Where are you?”

“We care about you, Marshlily.” “We need you, Marshlily.” “Come home, Marshlily.”

Marshlily looks frantically from side to side, looking for Celebi, Crageagle, and—her heavy heart jumps in her chest—Charredtail. “Where are you? Where is everyone? Did you come to rescue me?” 

As the voices continue, they begin to sound closer, and with some time, Marshlily can pinpoint the direction they’re from. She takes a wobbly step toward them, but she makes it only a few taillengths before the voices of her loved ones fall quiet and a piercing scream erupts inside her brain. It’s like that alien feeling she’s been having, but worse, overwhelming her senses. There are no words put to it, no way to understand what’s going on, just a desperate yowl. 

“Leave me alone!” Marshlily cries. “Let me go!” She sinks to the ground in a heap as the screeching continues and begins to scream herself, wearing her bleeding throat raw. Of course it wouldn’t let her go. Of course her only hope would be a trap. The dissolving feeling, which had dissipated slightly, comes back with a vengeance. She really could just lie there and give in—it’d be a lot less painful …

As soon as she resigns herself to the faintness, though, something cuts through the screaming. It’s faint, but it’s there, and little by little it gets louder until Marshlily can finally hear it clearly: “I love you, Marshlily. I’ll always love you.”

It takes Marshlily a few moments to recognize the voice, but when she does, her breath stops in her chest. “Mom?” she asks, her voice wobbling. “Mom, is that you?” Half-remembered memories float to her head: milk scent; a soft, murmuring voice; the warmth of her siblings snuggled up against her. 

The voice doesn’t answer. Instead, it continues, “You have to keep going.”

It’s with uncertaintly that Marshlily gets to her paws, and the screaming in the back of her head never relented, but nonetheless, she does. Her movements are jerky and discoordinated, and she stumbles over her paws more than once, but with nothing else to do, she follows the voices of her loved ones: “It’ll be okay, Marshlily.” “You have to keep trying.” “Just follow my voice …”

She can’t begin to tell how long it takes—it could have been minutes or days; they’re all the same here—but eventually, as Marshlily continues in her unsteady gait, something shifts behind the rotting trees. The air here is always a bit misty, but this is different: a hulking wall of fog hangs ahead of her, condensing in mere seconds as she approaches, as if it were waiting for her. 

Tentatively, Marshlily pads through the last few trees ahead of her and into a small clearing. She can see the fog clearly from here; it writhes like something alive, but she doesn’t find herself unsettled by the breath-like undulations. Instead, she’s overwhelmed by a feeling of welcomeness and love. She takes a few steps toward it and realizes something: she can walk straight now. The jerking has stopped, and when she swallows, she finds that there’s no taste of blood in her mouth any longer. She’s thinking clearer, too. 

“Come here,” a chorus of voices says, and Marshlily grits her teeth. What if it’s a trap? What if she never gets better? What if she falls right back into the thrall of whatever—whoever—is screaming inside her head? 

But then, what other choice does she have …? It’s stay here and dissolve into nothingness or risk the pain of whatever might lie on the other side. With just enough trust to allow the warmth of it, Marshlily braces herself and runs through.

She jolts awake into a world of silence. No, it’s not silent … there’s the birds, the rustling of leaves in the wind, the rushing water of a nearby stream. What’s silent is the inside of her head: no screaming; no vicious, alien thoughts; just her own internal monologue, so much clearer than it has been in moons.

Marshlily takes a few breaths in and out, in and out, then closes her eyes shut. What if this is just a dream? What if this is the Dark Forest playing tricks on her? How can she trust it? 

Tentatively, she brings herself to her paws and stares out across the land; she’d run far from the Cavern the night before, but she’s still high enough up that she can see across all four territories from here. There’s PrairieClan’s, out in the tall grass of the moor; that over there is SerpentClan’s, wrapped in the shadows of the forest; and way on the opposite side is MoonClan’s, a mix of warm sand and tall trees. They’ve never looked so beautiful. Surely the Place of No Stars and its denizens could never create a place like this.

“Marshlily!”

The echoing voice comes from somewhere above her, and Marshlily turns to see Hornetstar bounding down the rocks, Hubert, Celebi, and Nettledawn in tow. She slows down as she approaches, her pawsteps becoming (rightfully) tentative, but she doesn’t flinch away in fright, which is more than Marshlily could ask for, really.

“Hi, everyone,” Marshlily croaks, and winces at the ache in her throat. For a brief, panicked moment, she thinks it’s blood that’s making her voice groggy; common sense kicks in when she realizes that the only thing she tastes is stale morning breath. She laughs at herself internally; of course her throat is sore, she’s been sleeping for … “How long was I gone?” 

“Days!” Hornetstar says. “You weren’t responding, just flailing around and talking to someone. Were you dreaming about Kestreltail?”

Marshlily can’t keep back a melancholy smile at the sound of her mother’s name. “A little bit.”

“Come on, stop with the chatting,” Hubert says, taking a couple steps toward Marshlily. “How are you feeling? Are you still sick?” 

Marshlily thinks on it for a long moment. The violence in her head is gone; she turns to Hornetstar and hears no disembodied urge to attack. She turns to walk a few paces this way and that, and her body doesn’t jerk, or even twitch. “I don’t think so,” she says finally, turning back to the others. “I think I might be okay.” 

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Hornetstar is pressed up against her, purring up a storm. “I was so worried! I thought you were going to … I mean, I was scared that …”

Marshlily chuckles and nuzzles her face into Hornetstar’s shoulder. “You and me both, Hornet,” she says, voice muffled by her thick pelt. “You and me both.”

[a03-anxiousandafraid]

I don't know why but I'm kinda obsessed with the idea of Zelda getting into miniatures. Like, those model kits where it's a house or a room and you put the whole thing together and make all the furniture and the decor. It just seems like something small and mundane she would get absorbed into like- oh I'll make a scale model of my plans for this area or temple reconstruction, and a month later her shelves are filled with random ass sets like little kitchens and bedroom libraries and whatnot. And Link is so down for it, he'll find random shit like tiny rocks and pretty leaves and fucking grass clippings and just bring his goodies back to her like a bird to see if she can use them in her crafts which of course she does.

I have 2 versions of this in my head- an in-universe and a mordern(esk) au, yall I am DYING