#ava chocolate orange

[ninjagirlstar5]

can I request… chodarking/chocolate orange….

Damn, Chosen, how come you get TWO partners? (reference)(light-hearted)

[daisychainsandbowties]

i love when fic authors write ava being really excited about going to the grocery store it’s like!!! yes! ava is excited to see oat milk. yes she wants to try every variation of haribo candies in every tiny european corner store they visit. yes she loves that things come in cans and that there’s drinks that are blue like in star wars

and also yes to bea seeing her swerve hard away from the baby food aisle. sneering in tandem with her at the applesauce and at cans of watery soup. bea teaching her how to season things so they don’t taste like powerlessness and neglect and hunger and rotting away

sighing indulgently when ava appears with another box of cereal to mow through in one night. bea brushing granola pieces off the bed without a word while ava sits cross-legged on her crumpled-up side with a book in her lap, one hand pressing the pages flat and the other elbow-deep in a box of chocolate hazelnut granola. scattering light crumbs everywhere

just yes to ava loving food and approaching it with so much joy it makes beatrice realise that there is actually something holy in a silce of orange, in a snack cake and in granola crumbs and haribos in the shape of little frogs.

something about how the ones we love feed us and how they can teach us to love. something about love leaking through ava like light through stained glass and beatrice realising that it’s not the sunlight itself that’s beautiful, or the glass all alone, but the two together, shining

[stickkitty]

I got color names for the AvAvM characters

I used four websites which I will bullet in order for each one:

- color-name.com

- colornamer.robertcooper.me

- chir.ag/projects/name-that-color

- colors.artyclick.com

I will also sometimes be pretending their names become their literal personality/design because its fun for this post

EDIT: I forgot to say but the reason I am doing this is cuz I found out Alan Revealed official hex codes for a lot of the characters (idk when this was, I usually look at the AvA wiki and I suddenly saw it there and was like ooh this is useful) I did not do TDL or TDL cuz they are straight up just pure black and red (usually gives no other names for such pure colors although I technically never checked). The mercs did not get hex code reveals sadly (but they are multicolor so I wouldn’t do them anyway). I am not sure who else got hex reveals that I did not do other than hangman and Vic’s gray workers, but hangman is also pure black and I didn’t feel like doing anyone else. (Edited this again)

THE SECOND COMING

- Orange (wow basic)

- Safety Orange (honestly fits their personality)

- Blaze Orange (last two websites had this result. ArtyClick said it was a 100% match!)

- ArtyClick always says 4 similar color names. One was Mango Tango and surprisingly King didn’t have that from any website or the similar names list.

RED

- Boston University Red (That’s his future university now)

- Communist (Red’s a Communist?! :0)

- Guardsman Red

- Rosso Corsa

YELLOW

(Sigh no yellow text color on Tumblr I swear they used to have yellow)

- Tangerine Yellow (their new fave fruit)

- USC Gold (Yellow’s future University)

- The last two sites said Supernova which is a very cute name

GREEN

- Alien Armpit (BAHAHAHA THAT NAME- rip Green's ego)

- Blinking Terminal

- Limeade (that’s better)

- Alien Green (never mind he’s an Alien again) (Green is an Alien and he is kinda spacey)

BLUE

- Spiro Disco Ball (fits their personality since they are very good at dancing)

- Shovel Knight (Kinda fits cuz Blue likes gardening) (Shovel Knight and Guardsman Red should be in the same kingdom)

- Dodger Blue (her favorite sports team)

- Bright Sky Blue

PURPLE

- Heliotrope Magenta

- Magentle (A gentle Magenta?)

- Violet Eggplant

- Barney Purple (LOL Barney the dinosaur)

PURPLE’S MOM

I call her Sakura but she has other names so I just put Purples Mom

- “Shocking Pink (Crayola)” (Crayola? How shocking…)

- This and the next website both said Pink Flamingo

- Fuchsia Pink

PURPLE’S DAD

- Blue (wow basic #2)

- C64 Blue (...interesting name)

- Blue Ribbon (cuz he won so many fights I guess)

- ArtyClick Ocean Blue (The website name is in his name?)

- Similar name ArtyClick gave me is “Blue Orchid” which is cool since many people hc Pink to be called Orchid. Blue Orchid and Pink Orchid!

Bonus for Blue Ribbon and Blue Orchid:

Bonus for the first ribbon drawing except the ribbon says something else:

King Orange

- Metallic Orange

- “Apple II Chocolate”

- The last two sites said Bamboo (aren’t bamboos green?)

Gold

- Chinese Gold (so he’s Chinese?)

- Leopard (cute ^ ^)

- Buddha Gold (and he's Buddhist?)

- Yellow Ochre

Victim

- Dark Liver

- Fiftieth Shade of Gray

- Emperor (Guardsman Red and Shovel Knight serves xem)

- Vampire (Vampire Vic :0)

Corn Dog Guy

- Smoky Topaz

- Cranberry Zing

- The last two sites said Copper Rust

[sammy8d257]

Likes - AvA Sticktober 2024 Day 2

Part of the AvA/M Watered Down Hot Chocolate Series: A Melted Marshmallow Side Story

Written by Sammy8D257

Word Count: 700 CW: Little self-deprecating from Purple (Just like, Purple's view on things is a little wonky because of course it is, and it drives their course of action, so just be aware of that)

Summary: Purple likes things. They like things a lot. You could even call it one of their defining traits. They like hanging out with their friends, they like cooking with King. They like shiny things and they like flying.

Purple likes things. But there is something that they like the most.

[AvA STICKTOBER 2024 LIST]

[Ao3 Ver.]

=o=

Purple likes things. They like things a lot. You could even call it one of their defining traits. 

They like their friends. They like how fun it is to hang out with them. They like how passionate Red is, how adventurous Green is, how clever Yellow is, how savvy Blue is, and how huggable Orange is. They like their house and they like their desktop. They even like Mr. Becker a little bit too.

They like living with King. They like being his roommate and being able to share a space with him. They like his kitchen and they like filling the fridge with leftovers that they can eat later.

They like objects. They like powerful objects and they like things to show off with. But they also like small, weird objects. They like how King jokingly referred to it as "bird behavior" when a small pile of shiny stones and pretty trinkets started appearing by the door. He grumbled about it, calling it a tripping hazard but he hasn't removed it yet, so Purple thinks King likes it too. 

Liking things is easy for Purple. They've always been greedy. And who could blame them? There are just so many things to like in this world. But despite all that, there is one thing that Purple likes the most.

=o=

The bubbling of the pot in front of them almost masked the shuffle of footsteps on the wooden floor. Purple didn't need to turn around to know who had just entered the kitchen. So they kept stirring the spaghetti sauce as the sounds of King's arrival came to a quiet stop.

"Hey, I got your message and uh- Holy cursors, Purple did you make all this food?"

Purple nodded sharply, cutting a glance to the countertops full of various dishes and desserts. They turned their attention back to the sauce and lifted the spoon to their mouth to taste. It was good.

A sigh from behind and the scrap of the chair informed them that King had sat down at the table. With a hum, Purple turned the stove burner off and carefully placed the pot on a corkboard on the counter. Next to it were two plates of noodles that Purple quickly layered the marinara sauce onto with their spoon. 

Without a flourish, the plates of spaghetti were picked up and placed gently on the kitchen table, one in front of King and one on the opposite side where they would sit. King tracked their movements, tired eyes searching for things that Purple wasn't going to let him find. They sat down at their spot and picked up their fork, eyeing King until he mimicked their movements.

An air of unease surrounded the kitchen as Purple continued to stare at King and King shifted his gaze to the food on the table. Finally, the orange stick figure lifted his fork and Purple couldn't help but lean in closer. That is until King abruptly stopped and met their eyes.

"Purple, I'm-" King gripped his fork tighter. "I know I've been a little out of it these past few days and I, I know you've been having a bad week too. So I'm sorry I haven't really been here but if you need anything from me, you let me know alright?"

There was in fact something that Purple needed from King. 

"Taste the food." 

Purple looked at the stick figure expectantly and to his credit, King didn't react to their blunt command. Instead the fork relaxed in his grip and he swirled a bit of spaghetti into his mouth.

Immediately, his eyes widened and Purple preened. The tension from before almost disappeared completely.

"Do you like it?"

King swallowed and grinned at them. 

"Like it? I love it! Purple, this is amazing!"

=o=

Yes, Purple likes things. They like a lot of things. From friends to cooking to objects, they like them so much. But the thing that they like the most is nothing that can be held or seen. Because the thing they like the most is;

"You did such a good job on this Purple! Now come on, this food isn't going to eat itself!"

Something to be earned.

[cleolinda]

Weekend links, May 5, 2024

My posts

It seems like it couldn’t possibly be true, but Lauren Bacall seems to be the first “Lauren,” and you can see in the U.S. baby name graphs when she hits the screen. I’m leaving open the possibility that someone female, somewhere, was named Lauren before 1944, but as a Lauren, I haven’t seen evidence of it yet. 

Reblogs of interest

Late-breaking news: Bernard Hill (best known as Théoden in Lord of the Rings) has passed at age 79. 

The Hot Vintage Lady Polls: Reminder that I’m not affiliated with the Hot Vintage Brackets (or any brackets); I just like vintage ladies and get easily obsessed with things. Greta Garbo and Rita Hayworth are in danger this time (I am letting the chips fall where they may with Ava). I would say I don’t understand people, but I’m sure Audrey people don’t understand me, either. That said, the Flaming Chaos Elmo inside me wants to see the Hepburns matched against each other. 

@hotvintagepoll is also running polls to cast an imaginary vintage Dracula movie, as a treat.

Speaking of: Season’s Greason’s, Dracula Daily fans! Good Friend Jonathan’s time loop begins again. 

May the Fourth be with you (And also with you)!

New music from Garbage! “Better Not Lie to Me,” “Revenge and Hurt,” a cover of “Song to the Siren,” and a new mix of “Bad Boyfriend” with Dave Grohl on drums this time. 

New music from Dua Lipa! I’ve liked all the singles a lot so far, and ”Whatcha Doing” is the album song I like the most as of this writing. Good luck to Dua this week cracking the Billboard Taylor 100!

Hozier Watch 2024: At first I was just poking fun at myself for having links here two weeks in a row, and now it’s just a thing? I see this “All art has political dimensions” gifset go by at least once a week, but I’m reblogging it this time for the user discussion.

(“I wrote a song called the Monster Mash, so you should play that. That’s one of mine.”)

“Here are some more articles about the increasing number of First Nations who have been able to reintroduce bison to their lands.”

How to spot fake news (namely: slow the fuck down)

The illustrious career of clip-art wolf Lumpy Kiba

Call an ambulance… but not for Alfred Pennyworth

No one was doing it like costume designer Eiko Ishioka

Crab Cake (Scott Fraser, 2019) 

Unhinged lifestyle editorials, a triptych

Video

Honestly this dual mating dance was my favorite video this week

The Donna Summer song that Brian Eno called “the sound of the future”; I added a video of her performing it 22 years later, and he wasn’t wrong

This seems fine: An... upside-down... deer guitar that...?

Watch for the exact moment this dad realizes why his child thinks mothers in labor foam at the mouth

Come for Werner Herzog’s fear of chickens; stay for a quote that will blow you straight back to Journalfen 2004

This video of birds eating seeds and drinking orange juice is also self care

Eventually someone will stop Chocolate Guy, but today is not that day

The sacred texts

Hope is a weapon. Hope is a skill

Personal tag of the week

Cats, including this cat full of love, designed by poll, and the two types of kittens.

[lilpunkrock]

where you go (i will go) — epilogue

Summary: The next chapter of your story begins.

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

masterlist

. . .

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ: Close Your Eyes by Michael Bublé

0:00 ───|────── 3:33

. . .

epilogue

“C’mon, kiddo, you can do it. Say, ‘dada.’”

“Matt, she’s still a little young for that, don’t you think?”

“No, my kiddo’s a smart one. She can do it. Isn’t that right, Seline?”

Seline is all curly blonde hair and brown doe eyes as she flashes her parents a one-toothed grin. The sound of her tiny hands clapping together echoes through the Kemper’s living room, which is positively littered with toys. 

Ava scoffs, eyeing her husband with amusement. “You’re right, she is smart. That’s why she’ll say ‘mama’ first.”

Matt reaches for her hand where it rests on the floor between them. When he raises her knuckles to his lips for a kiss, his eyes are soft and adoring. “You’re right. She would be smart to say ‘mama’ first.”

Molten warmth floods your chest at their interaction, at the way that their attachments glow and sing with every word, laugh, and look. An unseen bystander, you reach forward from where you sit cross-legged in front of them to graze your fingers over the green storge attachments that tie their little family together. As your fingertips pluck at the threads like harp strings, they ring and strengthen. 

Was it necessary to fulfill every attachment? No, not anymore. Now that all philia, eros, and agape attachments were ensured, that only left pragma, storge, philia, and philautia to fulfill. In spite of this, you’d realized over the past six months that you still liked to walk through your daily assignments, fulfilling all of the attachments that made their way onto your list. You are a creature of habit, after all. Plus, the way the threads sing when you pluck them never gets old. 

Thank you, the storge attachments say, their threads bright, warm, and alive beneath your touch.

“You’re welcome,” you say in turn. “I’ll see you all again tomorrow. Don’t let her say any first words while I’m gone, got it?” 

Got it. 

With a pleased grin, you rise to your feet. As your attention shifts from the Kemper family, a new sight grabs your focus—a radiant stream of red, orange, yellow, blue, purple, and white. The threads unfurl from your chest, mingling and weaving into a delicate braid of light. They trail from your heart, out the Kempers’ front door, to a place far beyond this realm. Their whispers coax you to a realm of dreams and nightmares, to a man with a touch like cashmere and stars for eyes. At the mere thought of following them, your heartbeat quickens. 

Philia. Eros. Agape. Pragma. Philautia. Erotoropia. Even after six months, there was still one attachment that you and your Dream Lord had yet to foster. Green, unconditional, familial storge. 

You can’t help but wonder if today is the day. It is a very special day, after all. In fact, a quick glance at the clock on the Kempers’ living room wall informs you that it’s time for you to depart for the Dreaming. Lucienne will be expecting you soon.

Before you go, however, there’s one last stop you need to make. A friend to see, and a promise to fulfill.

. . . 

The morning sun shines surprisingly bright upon London as you step onto the street outside The New Inn. Far removed from the main roads, the sound of morning traffic only faintly reaches your ears on the pleasantly warm breeze. As you push through the entryway, the door handle’s bells jingle a tune that is all too familiar to you now. The New Inn’s windows have been pushed open to welcome in the early summer air. Several patrons sit at various tables sipping tea or coffee and nibbling on pastries that Hob purchases from the bakery a few blocks over. 

When your gaze shifts to the bar, you spot him—dimpled chin, stubbled jaw, chocolate eyes. When he begins to chat up an elderly gentleman sitting at the bar, offering to refill his coffee, you can’t help but beam. “‘Morning, Hob! Is the coffee pot still hot?” 

Hob‘s gaze darts to you at the sound of your voice. As he begins pouring coffee into the elderly man’s cup, he waves you over. “Wouldn’t turn it off until you came through. Get over here.” 

There’s an undeniable bounce in your step as you walk to the bar and hop onto one of the leather-topped stools. Hob makes his way over quickly, grabbing a clean coffee mug as he goes. When you spot the red apron he’s wearing over his normal attire, you have to suppress a snort. You rest your chin on your palm when he stops in front of you, gazing up at him adoringly. “You make a pretty barista, you know.” 

Hob lifts one dark brow at you, lips drawing into a smug smile. He begins filling your coffee cup without so much as breaking eye contact. Show off. “I’m flattered. You don’t think the apron is too much?” he responds, dark eyes crinkling with amusement. 

“Not at all. In fact, I’m going to buy you a fancy one with the little pockets for pens and the loop for towels,” you say, wiggling your eyebrows at him. He chuckles at your teasing, earning a satisfied grin from you. The warmth of the coffee seeps through the ceramic mug and into your hands as he hands it to you. “Thanks, Hob. I really did need the pick me up today.”

Hob returns the coffee pot to its hotplate behind the bar before turning back to you. “Ah, yes. Today’s the day you become the Queen of Gloom, right? The Monarch of Melancholy? The Sovereign of Solemnity?” 

You couldn’t hold back your laughter if you tried. Silently, you thank the Maker above that you weren’t mid-drink when he said that. “Alright, you’ve made your point,” you say, swallowing another giggle before taking a long sip of your coffee. 

A sly grin pulls across Hob’s lips as he rests his forearms against the counter. “Glad to hear it. You’ve yet to convince me that he’s not the God of Pessimists.” One dark brow shoots upward, curious and inquiring. “But you know what would? You telling me what’s really going on here.” 

Fondness blooms in your chest, warm and supple. Before your temporary death, your blossoming friendship with Hob had been limited to occasional check-ins. Working to combat Desire had been a full-time job, after all. In the six months since your sacrifice, however, life had slowed down a bit. This allowed for many morning coffees with Hob, during which time your friendship had deepeed, and his questions about Dream had never ceased. “Secrets, Hob. You know they’re Tall, Dark, and Broody’s to tell, not mine.” You smile as another long swig of coffee warms your throat. 

Hob rolls his eyes at you good-naturedly. “Right, right, secrets. Just you wait. I’m going to trip you up someday,” he says with a wink. A contented silence settles between you as you chuckle at him, closing your eyes and savoring the rest of your coffee in long, grateful sips. When you open your eyes, placing the empty mug in front of you with a contented sigh, you find that Hob’s expression has softened. When he leans toward you, it’s with a kind smile. “Well, I’m wishing you luck today. Really, Love. You deserve this. You deserve love.” His hand rests atop yours gently, but firmly. “You deserve to be happy.” 

When the gratitude swells up at the base of your throat, it takes you off-guard. Sudden and powerful, it steals your breath away. The familiar prickle of tears stings at the backs of your eyes. It’s only when he gives your hand a gentle squeeze that you finally find the strength to speak. “Thank you, Hob. So do you.” 

Off to your right, a new customer approaches the bar, waving Hob down for service. Hob gives your hand a quick pat before he slips away to take the patron’s order. The distraction gives you a moment to collect yourself, to swallow the lump in your throat and wipe the wetness from the corners of your eyes. You know it’s time for you to go to the Dreaming. But before you do, there’s one last thing you have to do. 

When Hob finishes waiting on his customer, you wave him back over. As you rise from the bar stool, you flash him a dazzling grin. “Well, Hob, I’d better head out. I’ve got a wedding to go to, you know. But before I do…” You reach across the bar, planting a hand on each of his strong shoulders. Surprise flickers in Hob’s brown eyes as you hold his gaze firmly, intently. “A new patron is coming to the Inn tonight. Should be around eight-o'clock. A word of advice from me…” You give his shoulders an encouraging squeeze. “…make conversation.”

You can see the exact moment that your insinuation lands, the precise second that the meaning registers. Hob’s chocolate eyes widen in astonishment; his lips part in awe. Stunning the innkeeper into silence is no easy feat, but it seems you’ve done it. It’s several long moments before he slowly smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. They glimmer with excitement, with promise. “Right. Yeah,” he breathes. “Make conversation.”

You pat his shoulders once, firmly. “You’ve got it, my friend.” 

When you slip out The New Inn’s front door, it’s with the jingle of bells, a levity in your heart, and a smile on your lips. 

. . . 

The sweet scents of pollen and nectar greet your nose as you walk the fields of Fiddler’s Green with Dream at your side. Between crafting dreams and nightmares, visiting Cain and Abel mid-murder attempt, and listening to Mervyn complain about another blood-and-perrier mishap by Fashion Thing in the main hall, it had been a hectic morning for the Dream Lord. When you’d popped into the Dreaming from a morning walking amongst the mortals, you’d taken quick note of the overcast sky and heavy, humid air. One look at the particularly deep crease between Dream’s exasperated eyes, and you’d known just what was in order–a walk.

As you trek into one of the grove’s lush meadows, Dream Country’s sun beams down on you, fat and gold as an egg yolk. The air, once thick and oppressive, is now crisp and refreshing. A sea of blue flowers greets you–dancing periwinkle, bobbing hydrangeas, rustling forget-me-nots, and swaying hyacinth. A few days ago, when Lucienne was dusting the shelves of ‘1800’s - W’ in the library, you’d made the off-handed comment that Robert William Wood was one of your favorite painters. The fact that you’ve stepped right into the scene of Fields of Blue is not lost on you. You can’t help but smile.  

As you enter the field of blues, a strong gust of wind sweeps the meadow, stealing blades of grass and stray leaves from the earth. As the breeze gathers the array of foliage into a familiar humanoid form, you come to a stop. Dream falls into place at your side. 

When two blue poppies settle into place on the dream’s face, you smile. “Good morning, Fawn. You’re looking particularly radiant today.”

Fragile iris petals unfurl as Fawn offers you a smile. While you adore all of Dream’s creations, the dream of freedom has always been close to your heart. She was your first collaboration with the Dream Lord, after all. “Thank you, Miss Love. The Dreaming’s sun shines so much brighter these days. My leaves adore it.” 

You shoot Dream a knowing glance out of the corner of your eye. A small, pleasant quirk of his rosebud lips is his only response. “As do I, Fawn. You’ll bring sweet dreams to my friend Theo tonight, won’t you?” 

Fawn bats her dandelion eyelashes at you, giving you a wide grin. When she spins in a giddy circle, blue petals dance around her like confetti. “Absolutely, Miss Love. He’ll have so much space to run, he won’t know what to do with himself. I’ll make sure he runs himself silly.” 

The sun is warm on your cheeks as you beam at her. “Thank you.”

With one last grin, Fawn dissolves in a flurry of leaves, departing for the Waking World. With a happy sigh, you step further into the meadow, relishing the warmth of the sunlight against your skin.

After several long seconds of silence, Dream speaks. “The Dreaming loves you,” he says, his voice a soft rumble on the honey-sweet breeze. 

“And I love the Dreaming,” you say, crouching down amid a gathering of hyacinths. You press your lips to their blue petals fondly, drawing in a long, savoring breath. 

“Then wed her.”

Stillness. You misheard him, didn’t you? Surely you must have. You straighten slowly, stunned. “What?” 

When you turn to Dream, you find a tension in his form that is foreign to him. His pink lips are pursed, his shoulders pulled back, his hands held rigidly at his sides. He looks…hesitant. No, you realize suddenly. He looks nervous. 

“Become her Queen. Her monarch. Her partner. Her caretaker,” Dream continues, his voice soft and tight. When he swallows, his throat bobs like sea foam on the tide. “Let us stand together. Officially.” 

A powerful stirring is rising in your chest, like the rapid flutter of hummingbird wings. The dizzying mix of awe and disbelief grows and grows, warm and insistent, leaving no room for air. “Is this your Endless version of a marriage proposal?” you breathe, taking a small step toward him. 

There’s a subtle shift in Dream’s form when you draw closer, like the coiling of a spring. He wants to touch you, you realize, but nerves have gotten the best of him. “In a sense,” he murmurs quietly. His ocean eyes study you intently, desperately. “You were expecting something more elaborate.” 

You could laugh out loud. You could tackle him to the grass and kiss him silly. “No. Yes.” 

“Clarify, love.” 

“No, I don’t need anything elaborate. I’ve never wanted anything elaborate. All that’s ever mattered is you.” You step forward, taking his hands in your own. “And yes, I’ll wed her. I’ll stand beside you. Officially.” 

Dream’s rosebud lips part in awe at your words. Was it possible that a small part of him was surprised at your acceptance, even after all this time? You bring his hands to your lips, pressing soft kisses against his knuckles one by one, as if pressing promises into his flesh. 

Dream leans over you, regarding you softly. “To become Queen of the Dreaming is to wed her. And to wed her is to bind yourself to her creator,” he murmurs, lifting one thumb to caress your chin. 

His skin is warm against your lips as you smile. Slowly, you draw his hands to your chest, lifting your head to meet his gaze. “You think I don’t understand the implications?” 

When a small smile lifts Dream’s lips, Dream Country’s sun gleams like a golden yolk, an extension of its master’s heart. “You are certain, then,” he says. Though his voice is quiet, there is an energy beneath it, a thinly-veiled eagerness. Excitement. 

When you lean forward to brush your lips against his, the grove’s birds chitter with glee. “As certain as I am that you are mine.” 

. . . 

In all your months in the Dreaming, you’re certain you’ve never seen the palace halls so busy. Dreams and nightmares of all shapes, sizes, and colors hustle back and forth through the halls in a blur of movement and chatter. As they pass by carrying trays of food, baskets of linens, and armfuls of decorations, they peer at you with wide eyes and even wider smiles. The excitement in the air is electric and infectious. You smile kindly at each resident as they pass, cheeks flushed and bashful, mind buzzing with glee.

“Your coronation attire will be waiting in your chambers within an hour’s time, Miss Love.” Lucienne’s voice cuts through the chatter around you, capturing your attention. You turn to where she walks at your side, spectacles perched on the end of her nose, reading over a list of tasks left to complete. “The beachfront is prepared, and the Dreaming’s residents will gather there at twilight.” Lucienne turns her head to you, brown eyes wide and attentive. “Will you still be reading your own oaths?”

Your lips lift in a nervous grin. “Yes,” you answer, heart fluttering in your chest. It had been your idea to do so, after all. Another mortal custom, you’d explained to Dream. Quiet as he was, you’d thought you might be the only one to write your own vows. When Dream had agreed to do the same, it had taken you aback in the best way possible. You’d been working on writing them for weeks, rehearsing them each morning before you left for your duties. 

Lucienne’s lips draw into a wide, pleased smile. “Excellent. If you wouldn’t mind, prior to the ceremony…”

As you round the corner near the palace ballrooms, two approaching figures quickly steal your attention. Lucienne’s voice, once loud and clear, fades to a quiet hum in your ears. You watch in silence as Dream and Mervyn Pumpkinhead stride briskly in your direction on the opposite side of the corridor. Mervyn gestures wildly, features pulled into his characteristic frown, while Dream listens intently, his dark brows drawn inward. 

The nature of their conversation, of Lucienne’s discussion, of anything else going on around you grows distant as Dream draws nearer. With each step, the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears becomes louder, the coaxing in your chest growing stronger. You picture each thread between you glowing brighter with each footstep, whispering more insistently with each inch gained. 

Come closer.

Come closer.

You need to be closer. 

There is a moment as you pass ways when the spell suspends, when your transfixion takes a deep, yawning breath. When Dream’s eyes flicker to meet yours, your mouth turns dry as cotton. There is a brush against your knuckles, a featherlight touch that you feel from the tips of your fingers to the marrow of your bones. Fire and ice drip down your spine in equal measure. You shiver.

And then, he’s gone. In a blur of black and orange, Mervyn and Dream stride past you, their conversation uninterrupted. Your eyes trail after them, still halfway spellbound. You’re almost convinced that the moment never even happened. Only a lingering tingle against the back of your fingers makes you wonder otherwise. 

“Miss Love?”

Your head whips around so quickly it verges on whiplash. When your eyes lock with Lucienne’s, she levels you with a knowing smile. “I was just inquiring whether you could bring me a copy of your oaths prior to the ceremony?” she prompts, voice lilting with amusement. 

Heat creeps up your neck as you give her a quick, sheepish nod. “Yes, absolutely. No problem.”

“Splendid,” Lucienne says brightly. She removes her pocket watch with deft fingers, coming to a stop outside the tall wooden doors that lead to the palace kitchens. “This is where I must take my leave, Miss Love. I have a very zealous chef to attend to.” She gives you a wide, assuring smile. “Perhaps you should retire to your room for a while. There is much left in store for you today. It is best to be well rested.” 

As the two of you come to a stop, it suddenly hits you that this is the first time you’ve really paused today. Between your assignments, visiting Hob, and preparing for the day’s festivities with Lucienne, time had passed in a blur with scarcely a moment to think. There was much of the day left to live. You wanted to be ready for it, to enjoy it wholeheartedly, to savor every moment and commit them all to memory. 

“Thank you, Lucienne. You’re right. I think I will.”

With a nod and a bow, Lucienne departs, heading into the palace kitchens with her task list in hand. Likewise, you turn and head in the direction of the staircase that leads to the palace’s living quarters. 

As you walk the halls, you pass dozens of dreams and nightmares discussing the festivities, carrying decor, and so on. Now that you aren’t busy with Lucienne, several stop you to make brief conversation as they go about their duties. You smile and greet each one, thanking them for their hard work preparing for the evening’s events. Though the excitement in the air is palpable, you can’t deny the nervous flutter in your chest. The gravity of the day’s events is far from lost on you. In fact, it’s been a persistent occupant of your headspace ever since Dream proposed in Fiddler’s Green. 

I am going to become Queen of the Dreaming. 

No matter how many times you think the words, they still leave you in utter disbelief. 

When you step off the staircase and into the palace’s lodging area, you find the hallways quiet and empty. The quiet padding of your sneakers against the stone floor echoes off the walls as you walk to your room at the end of the hall. Your mind slips in and out of focus, rehearsing your vows, reviewing the schedule for the remainder of the day, remembering the brush of Dream’s skin against yours in the corridor—

There is a gentle pressure around your wrist, a quick tug. The movement is so sudden that you don’t even squeal as you’re pulled into one of the halls branching off the main corridor. Stumbling forward, you catch yourself against something warm, solid, black, and familiar. Instantly, the adrenaline in your veins turns to giddy glee. 

Warm breath fans across your face, gentle and sweet. “You did not say hello.”

A small smirk lifts your lips as you slip your hands under Dream’s cloak, entangling your fingers in stars and constellations. In the low light of the side corridor, his blue eyes burn like the flames of young stars. “Neither did you,” you say, leaning instinctively into the warmth of his torso. 

Dream’s eyes flicker at the teasing lilt in your voice. There is something downright otherworldly about the way his palm glides over the curve of your waist, the way his fingers trace the soft flesh at the nape of your neck slowly, tenderly, reverently. His touch leaves fire in its wake, a simmering heat that makes your mind scramble and your heart race. 

Over the past several months, you’d been surprised to find that physical touch was a love language the Dream Lord was very adept in. While you’d experienced his more intimate side in the unconscious world he’d created for you, you hadn’t known what to expect from him in real life, especially given the new nature of your relationship. You’d quickly found that while he was largely reserved in public, he had no inhibitions in private. 

Of course, you weren’t complaining. Dream’s touch was a drug and an antidote, a cure and an affliction, all in one. Even now, as his rosebud lips tilt upward at your shallow, eager breaths, a force greater than gravity pulls you toward him, like the poles of a magnet. When the pad of his thumb settles against the curve of your bottom lip, reality bends deliciously, your skin humming with delight. 

“Of course I did. In my own way.”

The touch. You laugh breathlessly at him, fingers twisting in the fabric of his black shirt. “Of course, Dream Lord. Ever so subtle.” You push up onto your toes, trailing your nose along his jaw affectionately. He smells like salt and seaspray. You breathe in deeply. “Well, hello.”

”Hello, love.”

For several long moments, there is nothing but the soft chorus of your breaths, the sinewy warmth of Dream’s form against yours, the overwhelming contentment that you always find in his arms. Finally, you pull away just enough to make eye contact. “Did you and Mervyn successfully solve the world’s problems?”

Dream’s blue eyes roll upward, eyebrows pinching in exasperation. There is a certain delight that comes from seeing him annoyed. When you first met, his lack of non-verbal cues and muted reactions were maddening. How you’d longed to make a chip in the armor, to be privy to the inner workings of his mind and heart. The vulnerability that he now seemed to reserve for you alone was a gift, one you cherished and treasured. 

“Mervyn prefers to work at his own pace. The high expectations of the day are a challenge for him, but one he is well-suited for.” When Dream’s eyes return to yours, the softness in them does, as well. “On the subject of the day, how are you feeling?”

It’s the first time that anyone has asked you. A small, tentative smile forms on your lips as you lean into him, fingers curling and uncurling in the fabric of his shirt anxiously. “Oh, you know. Excited. Nervous. Can’t wait, but also kind of want to throw up. It’s a big day.”

Dream’s eyes regard you gently, thoughtfully. You find no judgment in them, something that sets the flutter in your stomach at ease. “Indeed,” he says softly. His thumb traces the curve of your jaw slowly, as if he could dispel every trace of worry with his touch alone. Not entirely out of the question, you muse. “I assure you, there is no need to be tense.”

You lean into his touch gratefully, relishing in the solace he instills. It never ceases to astound you how completely transcendent you feel in his presence. As if you could move mountains and steal stars. His touch emboldens you to open up, to bring light to the shadow of doubt that has plagued your mind since that day in Fiddler’s Green. 

“You know what I feel for you. I know what you feel for me. But the Dreaming’s Queen? Are you really sure about this?” You pause, swallowing down the nervous lump that presses at the base of your throat. “Are you sure that I’m…that I’m worthy of this?”

There is a long, lingering moment where Dream does not move, does not breathe. Not even the familiar flicker of his eyes searching yours. For a split second, you wonder if you’ve broken him. But then, his rosebud lips suddenly part. 

“Worthy?” he echoes slowly. His eyes are wide, his tone incredulous, as if he can’t fathom what you’ve just said. When his palms cup your face, thumbs settling at the corners of your lips, his touch carries a gentleness that makes your heart ache and flutter equally. He pulls your face to his gently, so close that your noses nearly brush, so close that there is nothing but the bright, burning surety in his eyes. “There is no question of your worth. There is no question that you are what is best for the Dreaming. The Dreaming is not worthy of you. I am not worthy of you.”  

Liquid light pours into you with every word from Dream’s lips, from every inch of his skin against yours. The shadow of doubt shrinks away in its presence, leaving assurance, solid and true, in its wake. When you offer Dream a small, grateful smile, his expression softens. He leans forward to press his lips to the space between your brows, to the corners of your eyes and lips. 

“In fact,” he murmurs lowly, lips lingering against the corners of your mouth, “I intend to show you exactly how superlative you are later this evening.” 

If you were molten light before, now you are raw static, all white heat and crackling energy. The pressure behind Dream’s fingers as they trail down your arms makes you dizzy. You can feel the giddy flutter of your heart in your chest, like a flurry of moths gathering to flame. Pressing the bridge of your nose to his, you hold his gaze, smiling against his lips. “Why wait?” you ask with a quirk of your brow. 

If there’s one thing you know about the Dream Lord, it’s that he loves a challenge. When he tilts his head back to get a better look at you, his eyes dance with amusement. “You are incredibly adept at wearing on my resolve,” he rasps. There is a slight quirk to his rosebud lips. You want to kiss them silly. “But there is much left to attend to.”

Your mouth falls into a playful pout. “Lucienne says my coronation outfit will be here shortly. You’re sure you don’t want to stick around?” you tease, only half-joking. 

A chuckle escapes the Dream Lord, ghosting across your cheeks. It’s low and breathless; the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. “Do not mistake my need to leave for a desire to leave. You know exactly what I desire,” he murmurs. He reaches for your hands within his cloak, holding them between you, thumbs dancing across your knuckles in farewell. “I will see you shortly, alright?”

Smiling, you concede. “Alright.”

When Dream steps away, you force yourself to swallow the quiet, pleading sound that rises in your throat. Just before he re-enters the main corridor, he gives your hands a gentle squeeze. “Remember my vow to you,” he says softly, his voice earnest. “There is no reason for you to fear ever again. And there is certainly no reason to be fearful of anything pertaining to today.”

You squeeze his fingers in return. When you smile, this time, it’s with confidence. “Right. Never again.”

. . . 

You remember the first time you witnessed your function like it was moments ago, not centuries. The awe that had wiped your mind clean of thought when you’d witnessed the first attachment, the giddy excitement that had coursed through your veins when you stepped into the kaleidoscope world that was yours, the overwhelming rightness that filled your chest to the brim when you first made those threads sing and shine. Your function was radiant, vibrant, all warmth and technicolor beauty.

It was a juxtaposition, then, how you’d always seemed tied to the dark. You’d died in the dark, had come into new life in the dark. In all the years you’d spent isolated and alone, you’d always felt comforted under the night sky, as if befriended by those glittering stars. Though you couldn’t remember it, your mortal self had first encountered Dream in the midnight hours of sleep. When your paths finally crossed again in the throne room, he had seemed to you the darkness of night in human form. A walking dream with moonbeam skin and stars for eyes. 

Perhaps it only makes sense, then, that you feel at home clothed in twilight. The place between the fading radiance of day and the comforting embrace of night. The gossamer fabric of your coronation gown spills over your skin like sand from the Dream Lord’s palm. Woven from stars, the silken material feels weightless upon you. As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, your eyes catch on the gown’s hem. Traces of pastel pink, lavender, and teal swirl like nebulous dust beneath the glittering stars, accenting the fabric that pools at your feet. 

A flash of color amidst the darkness. A piece of him, a piece of you. 

A small, shaky breath escapes you as your fingers trail over black gossamer and stars.    In the mirror, your smile is equal parts eager and nervous. It’s time. 

As if on cue, there is the soft creak of a door and a familiar flash of dark hair in the mirror behind you. When you turn around, you find Dream standing in the entryway, quietly closing the door behind him. The rectangular-cut ruby that pins the top of his ceremonial cloak together gleams in the lamplight of your bedroom. Living flames lick at the cloak’s hem where it trails along the floor. In the soft lamplight, the flames flicker and jump, imbuing his porcelain skin with warmth, casting shadows from his cheekbones. 

The breath slips from your lungs in a soft, awed rush. He’s beautiful. And his ocean eyes are on you, wide and staring, his pink lips parted as he looks at you like you’re the only thing that was, is, and ever will be.

He’s crossed the room before you even get the chance to say hello. “Breathtaking. Radiant. Exquisite,” Dream breathes. His hands find the curve of your jaw, cradling your face in his palms. “There are no words.” 

You laugh, leaning happily into his touch. “You just said several words.” 

There is a soft hum in Dream’s throat at your jest. “They are all inadequate,” he amends, a smile pulling at his lips. 

Now it’s your turn to give a hum of pleasure. “You look pretty exceptional yourself. The flames are a nice touch,” you muse, tugging lightly at the edges of his cloak. You press a quick kiss to his chin before you step back, ruffling your skirt in a shimmering wave.  “You like it, then?”

“More than you know,” Dream says. He takes a step forward, appraising your gown  thoughtfully.  “But there is one thing missing,” he continues. 

For a brief moment, your brow wrinkles in confusion. But when Dream reaches into his cloak  and withdraws his hand moments later, all you can do is gasp. From the cosmos hidden within the black fabric, Dream produces a swath of material spun from stars and comet dust. Thousands upon thousands of pinprick flames ripple and shift like liquid glitter against the black gossamer in his grasp. 

With careful hands, Dream turns you to face the mirror. His fingers make quick work of fastening the cape of stars to the straps of your bodice. When the material slips from his hands, the bridal cape spills to the floor, burning like a comet’s tail. 

Your heart catches at the sight, throat thick with emotion. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen, all of it. You are spun from cosmos and constellations. You are at home among the stars. You are a walking dream. 

Your voice is soft, barely a whisper. “Oh, Dream.”

Dream’s touch is warm as his fingers trail down from your shoulders. His feather-soft hair tickles your cheek when he settles his chin in the crook of your neck. “You have always liked mine, have you not?” he breathes against your skin, blue eyes bright within the mirror’s reflection.

You capture his hands in yours, turning to meet his gaze head-on. With his rosebud lips so close, his breath warm and honey-sweet against your cheeks, the desire to pull him close and kiss him is undeniable, coronation schedule be damned.  

And so, you do. “Yes.” With a gentle tug, you close the distance, pressing your lips to his. When you breathe in unison, it’s a sigh of contentment, an exhalation that says, finally. There is nothing but the soft whisper of breath; the gentle press of Dream’s mouth and fingers against your own; the fuzzy, intoxicating warmth that spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes with each movement. 

When you finally part for air, you smile, nuzzling your nose against his, favoring the slight dimple at its tip that you’ve always loved. “Thank you.  You really never cease to amaze me.”

“You never cease to inspire,” Dream responds. After pressing a final kiss to the corner of your mouth, he leans back to regard you. “They are ready for us. Are you ready?” 

Dream’s eyes hold you gently, assuredly. Under his gaze, all doubt slips away. Under his touch, confidence blooms and thrives. By his side, you have nothing to fear ever again.  

“Yes.” 

In a flourish of fabric and stars, Dream whisks his cloak over the two of you. When the Milky Way and constellations slip away, you find yourself standing on the dirt path outside the Gates of Horn. Beyond the towering structure of polished bone and keratin lies the black sands of Dream Country’s shore. Twilight is breaching over the familiar waters, painting the sky in pastel pink, burnt orange, and rich gold. Beneath the watercolor sky stands two great crowds of Dream Country’s residents, gathered on either side of a self-made aisle. Their smiling faces and eager eyes are illuminated by the setting sun. And they’re all looking at you. 

You had expected to feel nervous, or bashful, or self-conscious. But as Dream extends his elbow to you, as your arm slips into his own, as you begin to walk forward into this new life, all you can register is excitement. 

Side by side, you and Dream pass through the Gates of Horn, the same gates that had led you to him all those months ago. The black sand is soft beneath your feet as you walk down the beach, still warm from soaking up the day’s sun. The glittering eyes and wide smiles of dreams and nightmares both humanoid and abstract greet you as you walk through the crowd.

You recognize all of them. You’ve had the privilege of encountering countless dreams and nightmares during your time in the Dreaming. After Dream had made his proposal, you had doubled down your efforts to mingle with the Dreaming’s residents. He was their creator, the seed from which all things grew. He loved them. You loved them, too. If you were to stand by his side, to care for the Dreaming as your own, you wanted to know them. You wanted them to know you. 

There’s a particular face among the crowd that jumps out at you. Death of the Endless stands at the end of one of the frontmost rows, curls bobbing as she cranes her head to watch you two approach. When your eyes lock, the sheer enthusiasm in her toothy smile seems strong enough to light the Sunless Lands. You return her grin with equal excitement as you pass, making your way to the final smiling face that awaits you at the end of the aisle. 

Lucienne gives a slight bow when the two of you stop in front of her. The flames along Dream’s cloak lick at the sand as the two of you turn to face one another, hands joined between you, just as you’d been instructed to do. A Dream King with raven hair and stars for eyes and a goddess with light in her veins and night on her skin. What a pair the two of you made. 

It’s time. 

“Greetings, dear residents of the Dreaming,” Lucienne begins. Her voice echoes over the beach, carried on the saltwater breeze. At her words, any quiet chatter and excited shuffling within the crowd stills. “We have gathered together today for not just a coronation, but a celebration. Today, the Dreaming gains a Queen, a defender, a nurturer, and a champion. As the Queen weds the Dreaming, so too does she wed its creator.”

Your eyes turn from the royal librarian to her King. Dream’s eyes are only for you, lingering on each flicker of your gaze, each shift in your expression. When you smile, his eyes brighten. His thumbs drift over the backs of your knuckles tenderly. No reason to fear, they say. You are what is best for the Dreaming. 

“Agape, Deity of Love, presents herself to you today with the intention of leading you, guiding you, nurturing you, and defending you. She has passed through the Gates of Horn, ensuring that her heart is truthful and her intentions are pure.” Lucienne pauses, allowing her declaration to settle over the crowd. Out of the corner of your eye, there is a shift of movement as she raises her hands to address them. “The Dreaming acknowledges the presentation of their hopeful Queen. Does the Dreaming accept her?”

“We do,” a thousand voices chorus in unison. The flutter in your chest is undeniable as the sound washes over you, as the sunset’s reflection in Dream’s eyes shines a little bit brighter, as the grounding, peaceful sense of belonging settles in your soul like Dream’s hand in your own.

“Excellent,” Lucienne says. When you pull your eyes from Dream, you find her dark lips stretched wide, the corners of her eyes crinkled with delight. Lucienne had been with you since the very beginning, from nearly the first moment you set foot in the Dreaming. To see her joy, to know that she is pleased at your union with Dream, to receive her blessing, means everything. “The Dreaming accepts Agape, Deity of Love, as their Queen. As she binds herself to its creator, so too does she bind herself to us. She will now offer her oath to our King.” Lucienne leans forward slightly, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Do you need your oath?” she asks. 

You shake your head gently. You had been dreaming of this moment for a long time. You had rehearsed these words again and again until they were etched upon your heart. You knew precisely what you wanted to say. 

You turn to Dream with a deep, grounding breath. In spite of the crowd around you, the gravity of this moment, he looks at you as if there is no one else, nothing else, that matters. As if it is only you, the sand, the setting sun, and your joined hands. 

A sweet, all-encompassing calmness settles in your bones as you watch one another. As you open your mouth to begin, you allow yourself to be drawn into his gaze, into an intimate pocket of the universe where it’s just the two of you. “Dream of the Endless, Lord Morpheus, Dream Lord, Dream. One night, on a wooden dock in a sea of stardust, I told you that love was difficult. That it was as much about sacrifice as it was about reward. And I was right.” A pause. A breath. “But what I didn’t tell you is that every sacrifice is worth it. Because it leads you to where you’re meant to be, who you’re meant to be, and who you’re meant to find. Sacrifice means that you have something, or someone, worth continuing on for, risking it all for, giving everything for. For me, that someone is you.” 

There is a soft bob of Dream’s throat as he swallows, drinking in your words. The ever-present pull between the two of you swells and crescendos, coaxing you to him as the rising moon calls the tide. You take a step forward. “We’ve both lived lives with plenty of sacrifice. Now, it’s time for our reward. I vow to love, cherish, and keep you. I vow to be yours in any time, in any realm, in every reality. I vow to support you, protect you, and defend you. I vow never to forsake you. I vow to stand by your side in every circumstance; to be your constant solid ground; to be someone you can always rely on. I vow to make every sacrifice and moment we were without one another worth the wait. I vow to spend every moment of every day for the remainder of my existence showing you just how deeply, unfathomably, uncontainably loved you are.” You lean forward, your words a whisper for him and him alone. “I vow to be yours, forevermore.” 

Time passes slowly in this pocket of the world. Seconds or hours could pass as you and Dream watch one another with bated breath. The flames at the edge of his cloak leap and flicker eagerly, as if your confession were kindling. There is an electricity between you, a yearning to answer that ever-present coaxing between you, to satisfy the universe’s will. When you feel Dream’s fingers curl around your own, you think he might just do it. 

You have to suppress a jump when Lucienne’s voice startles you back to reality. “Does the Dream King accept these vows?” she asks. 

Dream’s eyes flicker briefly to Lucienne, then back to you. It’s evident that the pull back to reality was just as off-putting for him. You offer him a small smile, raising your eyebrows ever so slightly as if to say, Later. 

When Dream affixes you with a knowing look, your stomach erupts with butterflies. The slight quirk of his lips is hidden from the crowd, visible only to you and Lucienne. “I do,” he rasps. 

Lucienne gives a soft huff, a thinly-veiled laugh that only the three of you can hear. “Excellent,” she says. Refined as she is, you suspect her desire to admonish the two of you over your barely-concealed affection at this event is compelling. But when she turns to look at Dream, her brown eyes are crinkled and happy. “Our King will now offer his oath to his–our–Queen.”

When your eyes lock with Dream’s, you find them burning with conviction, soft with promise. When he takes one step closer, you picture the six threads between you glowing and singing with glee. “Agape, Deity of Love. Love. Fate and destiny are powerful creatures, ones we are both well-acquainted with. Throughout the eons, there have been moments when I questioned mine. There was surety, purpose, and fulfillment in my function. It was my fate, my destiny. And yet, I was plagued with a persistent absence. Regardless of what actions I took, an enduring emptiness remained. It was a call I could not seem to answer, a phantom limb I could not shake.” A pause. A swallow. “From the moment you set foot in the Dreaming, from the moment we met, you were known to me. The soul knows its counterpart.  For the first time, I found that the emptiness was filled. The call had finally been answered.” 

A soft, shuddering breath escapes you at Dream’s words. It has to. After all, there is no spare room for it in your chest, not when this bittersweet ache is filling your lungs. The love, deep and deliciously painful, crowds out everything else, pouring forth from your heart, spilling over, over, over. When Dream squeezes your hands tighter, you wonder if he can feel it, too.

“I did not know peace and contentment until I knew you. I knew not what it was to feel complete. It took a long time to comprehend that sensation. But now, I understand,” Dream says. “You once confessed to me that the deepest desire of the soul is to not venture through life alone. You were right. And now, both our souls are satisfied.” A pause. A brush of thumbs against the backs of your hands. “I vow to devote myself to you, wholly and completely. To cherish you incomprehensibly, boundlessly, until the last creature dreams. I vow to give you stars to comfort you and an embrace to run to. I vow to protect and defend you, to rewrite worlds for you, regardless of the sacrifice. I vow to give. I vow to remain yours, as I always have been. As I always will be.” Dream draws near to you, his voice like the sea breeze, so soft that only you can hear. “S’agapo.”

When Dream withdraws to stand up straight, you think you’re seeing stars. The smattering of lights beyond his face must be a product of your imagination, a consequence of the lack of oxygen your brain is currently experiencing. But when you take a deep, settling breath and blink, you find that they are stars. As the sun dips below the Dreaming’s sea, twilight is receding, revealing the faint beginnings of a night sky overhead. The coronation is almost complete. 

“Well said, my Lord,” Lucienne says, more for herself than anyone else. Her spectacles gleam in the fading twilight as she turns to you. “Does Agape, Deity of Love accept this oath?”

As if you could answer any other way. “I do.”

“Excellent. Together as one, the King and Queen of the Dreaming will now procure the symbols of their union.”

It was the only part of the ceremony that you hadn’t rehearsed. After all, you couldn’t do it without Dream. Will it really work? you had asked him one morning as you walked along the shoreline. 

Eyes dancing with vague amusement, Dream had affixed you with a knowing look. Need I remind you of what I told you the first night we crafted together? In this Realm, all things are possible. 

Dream reaches into the folds of his cloak with one hand, procuring his infamous pouch of sand. The whisper of the grains is barely audible over the ocean tide as he pours a palmful into your hand, and then his own. At first, when you re-join hands, clasping the grains together between you, nothing happens. And then, like magic, like a dream, they begin to warm. 

“May these tangible objects serve as a reminder of the intangible union that is forged here today. The binding of souls, the merging of realms, and the entwining of futures.”

You feel the exact moment the sand disappears, the exact moment that something small and spherical rests in your palm instead. When you open your hands, you find that the sand has been replaced with two rings made of clear, iridescent sand glass.

“The King and Queen of the Dreaming have elected to recite a final vow as they conclude the binding ritual,” Lucienne announces to the crowd. Quietly, she adds for you and Dream, “Whenever you are ready.”

You had never been more ready for anything in your entire life.

Dream’s fingers are warm and gentle as he takes your hand in his. When he slips the sand glass onto your finger, he does so slowly, carefully, like making a dream. “Do not urge me to leave you or to turn back from you,” he breathes into the saltwater air. 

Never again, you think. We will never be apart again. “Where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay,” you vow in turn. The sand glass ring slips over his knuckle with ease, as if it was always meant to be there. And it was. 

The stars overhead catch in Dream’s eyes as he watches you. In the darkness of dusk, the flames on his cloak reflect in the glass ring on your finger, coloring it orange and gold. His fingertips skim over its surface eagerly, ceaselessly, as if he can’t quite believe it’s there. “Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried.”

“May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if even death separates you and me,” you finish softly. 

There is a long, quiet moment where there is nothing but the whisper of the tide against the sand. And then, Lucienne speaks. “Dreams and nightmares, beloved residents of the Dreaming. I present to you…your new Queen.”

In an instant, the entire beach erupts into a chorus of cheers and applause, as if they were only waiting for permission to do so. Your gaze turns to the crowd instantly, lingering on each grinning face, soaking in each cry, shout, and holler. The Dreaming had always possessed an undeniable talent for turning the intangible tangible. It was a place of pure imagination, after all. In this moment, the sheer joy from the crowd crashes over you in a wave that truly feels physical. It’s overwhelming. 

You can’t help but smile and laugh along with them. 

Dream’s hand is warm against the small of your back as he turns you to face the crowd. He leans in close, so close that the unruly mop of hair you love so dearly tickles your cheeks, eliciting another giggle from you. “Welcome home, love,” he breathes, his voice low and honey-sweet, meant for you and you alone. 

You turn to look at him as his words settle over you. Home. 

It takes only the briefest of moments. Your hand against his cheek, a touch he leans into. Reaching out, reaching through, you peek into the Realm of Attachment. Because you need to know. 

In an instant, the night sky overhead turns into a kaleidoscope of color. When you look at the space between you and Dream, you find seven radiant attachments. White, soul-bound philia; red, romantic eros; purple, playful erotoropia; orange, companionate pragma; blue, compassionate philautia; golden, selfless agape; and green, unconditional, familial storge. 

Welcome home, love. 

And it feels like, finally. 

. . .

In all your time visiting the Dreaming, you have never seen the palace so packed full of people. When you’d peeked into the ballroom earlier today, the sheer number of tables and chairs set up for the post-coronation banquet had astounded you. You’d thought that surely they wouldn’t all be filled. 

Now, sitting at the front of the ballroom, gazing out at what must be every single resident of the Dreaming, you realize that you were so wrong. Not only does every chair at every table have an occupant, but it seems it’s not enough. Dreams and nightmares gather in the corners of the room, drinking, laughing, and conversing. Winged creatures fly to and from the lavish buffet tables, bringing plates of hors d’oeuvres and delicacies back for themselves and their friends, while others brave the crowd on foot. The energy in the air is infectious, practically buzzing with chatter, laughter, and life. 

Dream’s thigh presses against yours beneath the table as he leans into you. “Are you doing alright?” he asks, his voice warm and low against the high-pitched chatter of the crowd. “You’ve hardly eaten or drank since we sat down.”

Your hand finds his beneath the table, fingers toying with the sand glass ring around his finger. When you turn to him, you find his blue eyes soft with concern. You give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yes, husband. It’s just overwhelming. Everyone seems so…so happy.” Smiling, you lean in close, brushing your nose against his. “I am happy.”

Dream’s lips quirk upwards at your admission. “Then all is as it should be,” he murmurs against your cheek. 

His skin against yours is like kindling to flame. You lean in eagerly, hungry for more, scarcely caring if any of the Dreaming’s residents take notice. “Indeed, husband. I think it finally is.”

Dream’s laugh is a rumble in your ear. “You seem quite fond of that term of endearment, wife.”

What you’d give to drag him out into the corridors and show him exactly how fond of it you were. 

Just as you’re about to declare as much, the bright sound of silver on glassware captures your attention. Just a couple of tables away from your own, you find Death of the Endless rising from her seat with a champagne flute in hand. 

“Before you two get lost in your canoodling, I think we need a toast. It’s not a wedding without a toast, right?” she states, wiggling her eyebrows for emphasis. As warmth creeps up your neck, Dream shoots his sister a knowing look. Though he does not smile, the twinkle in his eyes betrays his amusement. Death gives him a quick wink before continuing. “I just want to say that I feel largely responsible for this union. So, you’re welcome. And congratulations, lovebirds.” She lifts her glass so emphatically that her bubbling beverage nearly spills over. “To Dream and Love, King and Queen of the Dreaming.”

“To Dream and Love, King and Queen of the Dreaming,” the room echoes in response. 

Death waves her fingers playfully at you as she takes her seat. You roll your eyes half-heartedly at her, making a gesture as if to say, I’ll find you later. “Maker love her. I should have known she’d make a toast. Did you know?” 

“Perhaps,” Dream muses with a quirk of his brow. 

Just as you’re about to ask if there are any other surprises you should know about, another round of sharp chimes echoes through the ballroom. Scanning the crowd for the source, you find that Matthew has perched himself atop a tray of glasses carried by a server. The sound of his talons clinking against the delicate drinkware gets everyone’s attention. 

That draws a laugh out of you. “You’re letting him talk?” you ask incredulously. 

Dream’s mouth smiles against your ear. “He begged me,” he says, the baritone melody of his voice trailing shivers down your spine. 

Across the room, Matthew ruffles his wings, preparing for his big moment. “Alright, everyone, it’s toast time. I’ve been waiting for this for weeks,” he crows, his voice thick with drama. “First things first, Boss, Lady Love–congratulations. You two make a beautiful couple. And I mean that both literally and metaphorically.” 

There is a gentle rumble of laughter throughout the room. You offer Dream a small smile as if to say, Here we go.

“If there’s one thing you all should know about me, it’s that the Boss and I have been friends for a long time. Or, it feels like a long time, at least. When you’re putting up with his melancholy ass, the days tend to drag on at times,” Matthew continues. He takes flight briefly, swooping over to land atop a lantern centerpiece on Death’s table. “But he and I have been to Hell and back together–literally–and I care about him. When Love first came around, I thought, ‘Man, this girl is nice. Way too nice for this guy.’ Honestly, Boss, you’re such a stick in the mud, I don’t know how she put up with you.” 

Matthew pauses again, obviously reveling in the crowd’s chuckles. With a shake of his head, Dream speaks up. “Please, Matthew, do go on,” he prompts, eyes flashing with thinly-veiled amusement. 

“Will do, Boss. So, yeah, at first I thought, ‘These two have nothing in common.’ Wasn’t really sure how this whole partnership thing would work out. But then, I realized I was wrong. They did have something in common. They’d both been hurt. They were both lonely.” 

This time, there is no laughter when Matthew pauses. His eyes gleam like black pearls in the ballroom candlelight. When your eyes meet, your throat tightens. “I’ve watched these two go through a lot together. I’ve watched them grow and change and open up in ways I never expected. I’ve watched them sacrifice everything for one another. I’ve watched them heal. And now, I get to watch them both be happy.”

There is a long, yawning moment where the ballroom is entirely still. Beneath the table, Dream’s hand squeezes yours. 

Matthew dips his head at the head table in acknowledgement. “To Dream and Love, two kids who finally got their happy ending.”

“To Dream and Love,” the Dreaming choruses in unison. 

For several seconds, there is only the quiet sound of residents sipping their drinks. Then suddenly, Matthew ruffles his feathers emphatically. “Well, what are you all sitting around for? Someone get some music going! It’s time to fucking party!”

All at once, the Dreaming seems to burst into life once again. A round of applause sweeps the room as dreams and nightmares alike leap out of their seats. A group of dreams quickly gather next to the balcony doors across the room. With practiced hands, they procure a fiddle, mandolin, flute, and bagpipes from thin air.  When they start up a fast-paced, jovial tune, the Dreaming’s residents flood the ballroom floor between the crowd and the head table. 

“He really knows how to set the mood, doesn’t he?” you laugh, watching as Matthew sweeps across the room, shepherding people toward the dance floor. 

“He has always been exceptional,” Dream muses thoughtfully. 

The two of you watch in contented silence for several moments as residents of the Dreaming take their celebration to the dance floor. Between the electric joy in the air and the music, you have to admit that even you want to dance. “Well? Should we–”

In a flurry of black, Matthew lands on the table in front of you. “Ah ah ah, not so fast,” he says, waving a wing at Dream. “I call the first dance, Boss. I got the party started. It’s only fair.”

You can’t help but laugh out loud at the absolute Matthew-ness of it all. The raven ruffles his feathers appreciatively at your response. “Well, what do you say, Boss?” he asks. 

Dream looks from you, to Matthew, to you again. You know he’s only dragging it out for dramatic effect. They were both dramatic, though neither of them would ever admit it. You suspected it was part of why their dynamic worked so well. 

The Dream Lord lifts your hand to his mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles. “Be my guest.”

. . . 

When you slip out of the ballroom and onto the balcony, you’re not sure how many hours have passed. All you know is that you’re dizzy and breathless, and the Dreaming’s night air feels so good against your skin. The granite is cool against the soles of your feet as you walk to the balcony railing, your shoes long-since abandoned. You honestly can’t remember the last time you had them on. Spinning and stepping through the thick throng of dancers, it’s a wonder you’ve been able to hold onto the cape Dream made. 

A long, contented sigh escapes you as you rest your elbows against the balcony rail. You can faintly hear the persistent hum of music as the instrumentalists start up another song inside. But now that you’re outside, you can also hear the soft whisper of the breeze and the quiet chorus of katydids and crickets far below on the palace grounds. Beyond the palace lights, there is only the darkness of empty houses and the endless expanse of stars above. 

Will the mortals dream tonight? you wonder absentmindedly. With everyone here at the palace, would humanity have a single night of comforting darkness free of dreams and nightmares alike? Or would they dream of these festivities, awaking with joy on their lips and wine on their tongues, their limbs exhausted from a night of dancing in another world?

“Does my beloved wife grow weary of dancing already?”

The smile that lifts your lips at the sound of his voice is instantaneous. It’s as second-nature as the warmth that blooms in your chest when he draws near, as instinctual as the way your fingers find his when he wraps his arms around you. “Just needed a little break. I think Mervyn might have two left feet. He just kept guiding me in circles.”

There is a quiet rumble of acknowledgement in Dream’s chest as he winds his arms around you, resting his chin against your shoulder. “I have never seen him move with such fervor. It seems you brought out a new side of him,” he muses. Turning his face to yours, he presses his lips to the tender hollow beneath your ear, a sacred spot that only he knows. You sigh with contentment, sinking into his embrace. “As you do with all, love.”

You remain that way for a long time, wrapped comfortably in Dream’s arms, chests rising and falling in unison, looking out at the midnight landscape of the Dreaming. Allowing yourself to simply relish in the sweet warmth within your chest, the soul-deep contentment within your core, the stillness of your mind, and this overwhelming, all-encompassing sense of rightness. 

Love. Happiness. Peace. You are complete. 

Dream is the one who finally breaks the silence. “I have been thinking…once the festivities have concluded, perhaps we should go to the dock and craft?” he says, his voice a lullaby in your ear. 

For a moment, you simply blink, allowing his words to sink in. With all of the day’s events, your functions had been the furthest thing from your mind. The fact that the Dream Lord was busy pondering dreams and nightmares while you were tripping over Mervyn Pumpkinhead’s feet is the most Dream Lord thing you’ve ever heard. 

With a grunt, you spin around, hopping up onto the balcony railing to get a better look at him. Dream’s hands instantly settle on your hips, grounding you in place. Though it’s a long way from the balcony to the palace grounds below, you don’t fear falling. You have no reason to fear, not when you’re with him. “You want to go craft on our wedding night?” you say, raising a questioning brow at him. 

Beneath the midnight sky, the Dream Lord’s eyes glitter with stars. “Do our functions ever cease?” he asks, each syllable spun from night and velvet. Leaning forward, he presses soft kisses to your forehead, the corners of your eyes, your cheekbones, your nose. His eyelashes brush over your skin, delicate as butterfly wings. Your eyes flutter closed in contentment. “Dreams and nightmares never rest, love, nor do humans ever cease to sleep.” He pauses, his breath warm and sweet against your lips. “And they sleep so much more soundly when you’re with me.”

Perhaps the Dream Lord was right. Perhaps love was too feeble a word to describe what was between you. As your heart outgrows its home, as your eyelashes flutter open, as your eyes lock with Dream’s, you’re certain that there is no word that can fully encapsulate this feeling. It’s impossible.

“So set in your ways,” you tease, your voice soft and breathless. “You know, stubbornness isn’t typically considered an endearing quality.” 

Dream dips his head slightly, looking up at you through dark, full lashes. This is it, you think. You’re going to spontaneously combust. Your heart is going to burst right out of your chest and leap into his hands. 

“And what do you think of it?” he asks softly. 

It’s not just endearing. It’s downright maddening. 

“Come here and kiss me, Dream Lord.” 

When Dream’s lips meet yours, it’s like coming up for air. As if every fiber of your being that was starved for him is fed, as if every nerve ending that was numb is brought to new life. The hum that pours from his throat into yours is so much more satisfying than any feast. His mouth is cashmere and honey against yours, his hair soft as silk between your fingers. Everywhere he touches seems to burn and sing and glow. 

If he is the night, then you are a star. With each kiss, he pours light into your soul. With each touch, he kindles the flame. There is nothing more powerful than this feeling between you. You’re sure of it. It could ignite galaxies and illuminate worlds. It could create and destroy. It could overcome anything that stood in its way. 

And, you supposed it already had. 

Only when the burn in your lungs becomes painful do you part for air. Fingers tangled in that beloved perpetual bedhead, you brush your lips against his. “Before we go craft, there’s one thing you have to do for me.”

Dream’s eyes burn like sapphires in the darkness. “Anything,” he says. 

You pause, holding your breath for dramatic effect. And then, you smile. “You have to dance with me.”

For a long moment, Dream only stares. And then, he laughs. Not just a chuckle, or something soft and breathless–something low, delicious, and happy. 

You want to coax that sound from him again and again. You’ll dedicate the rest of your life to doing so. It will be a worthwhile cause. 

“I believe that is a fair request. A husband would be a fool to leave the celebration without first dancing with his wife,” Dream says. He presses a final kiss to your lips before stepping back and offering you his hand. “Are you ready, then?” he asks. 

Yes. Yes, I’m ready. 

Your hand slips into his with ease. “Lead the way, Dream Lord.”

. . .

AN: And so, we come to the end of the road, my friends. When I started WYGIWG back in September, I had both the highest hopes and the biggest fears. Writing was a passion that I had let lie dormant for a long time. Would this story be any good? Would anyone read it? Would I have the time to dedicate to it? Would I really be able to finish?

In the end, what encouraged me to take the leap was understanding that I didn't have to have a perfect answer to all of those questions. As long as I was writing something I loved, it would be good enough. Even if no one read it, I could be proud that I accomplished my goal. If it was something I truly cared about, I would make the time. If I kept my mind and heart focused on those things, I would be able to finish.

I never could have expected what has come from this story. All of the mind blowing support I have received, all of the phenomenal people I've had the pleasure of talking to, all the the laughs, smiles, and memories shared over this story! You all are the flame that lights the fuse. Every kind word and reaction fueled the fire that brought this story to life. I truly could not have finished WYGIWG without you all. Thank you, thank you, thank you. It's been such an honor to get to know you all and to bond over something that we all love.

I'd be remise if I didn't include my incredible husband in this thank you. Nearly ten years of loving him inspired every sentence of this story. Tyler, thank you for making writing about love easy. From every emotion described, to the very title of this story (central to our wedding and featured in our home), to the final song featured (Close Your Eyes by Michael Bublé - our wedding song), you were at the heart of each part. S'agapo.

I still hope to do some bonus content for this story. I'm not sure exactly when any future posts will be up, but I will be sure to let my update list know. If you'd like to be tagged in any future updates, please let me know! Also, if you have any asks or special requests, please let me know. I will try to do what I can. x

All my love always, my friends! x

[pattdork]

*Beatrice and Ava are in the store picking up snacks*

Beatrice to Ava: Do you want anything sweet?

Ava: Well, you.

Beatrice: anything else?

Ava: I’m a slut for Chocolate with orange fruit.

[bullet-prooflove]

Kismet - Connor Rhodes x Reader

Tagging:  @cosmic-psychickitty    @brianbabygirlzvonecek    @ikbenplant   @rosaliedepp   @mrspeacem1nusone   @daniacat    @htariq    @sowrongitslottie   @readingbookelf    @earthtolottie    @crazy4chickennuggets   @cixrosie   @202rosebudd   @halsteadloversworld   @i-spaced-sorry    @lxna-mikaelsxn​   @1234-angelika​   @wolfers-stuff    @katia-01-05   @voidsteffy   @formulapierre    @aaronhtchnrs​

Being here at Chicago Med brought back a lot of memories, some good and some bad.  Connor remembers the thrill of it all, the surgeries, the challenges, the family that he’d never had. The people had been vital to him and truthfully, they still were, which was why he was here today. It’s been four years since he’s stepped foot in this place and now, he’s decided to return. He thought that the memories would fade over time, that the anxiety he had would subside, but the truth is it’s still as prevalent as the day he left.

His tenure here at become a horror show towards the end. A litany of stress and anguish. When he looks back, he wondered how he survived what Ava Bekker put him through. Therapy has helped but at the time he had thought he was drowning in the insanity of it all.

“We’re alike you and I, we’ll both do anything to get what we want.”

Her words ring in his mind as if she had just spoken them. He’d believed her at the time, they were both hungry, both ambitious but he was driven by the desire to learn and Ava, she was driven by ego. They were a matching pair until they weren’t.

“The ends justify the means.”

He remembers the tone of her voice as she said it, the look in her eyes. Everything was calculated down to the final detail even her escape from justice. There had been a moment when she picked up that scalpel where he thought she was going to kill him, he saw the glint of malevolence in her and he thought, this is it. This is how it ends.

But it didn’t end, not really.

He’d been fucked up for a while after she’d committed suicide and that was the point. It had been a final fuck you because she knew, no matter what she had done he would still try to save her. It was a form of torture, he’d held her life in his hands, tried to bring her back but she had escaped like a thief in the night. He had gone home and cried that night. Not for her but for everything she had taken away from him. There was cruelty in what she had done and it damn near broke him.

He was lucky you’d been around that night because the desolation, the loss it had all been too much. When he called, you’d come running, you’d taken one look at him, and you had known what he needed. You hadn’t been anything more than a friend at the time, someone to share a drink with at the bar but he trusted you with his thoughts, his feelings. He had been shaking when you’d gotten there, he hadn’t been able to stop. When you had held him, he had fallen to pieces, his face buried in the curve of your shoulder as he clung for you to dear life. You were his anchor in a sea awash with sorrow, the only thing that could bring him back to himself when he felt so lost, he could barely see through the darkness.

“You doing ok?”

Your voice broke through his thoughts as he sat on the bench in front of hospital. You were still as beautiful as the first day he had laid eyes on you, he felt that swell of heat in his chest as you held out a takeout cup of hot chocolate with a gloved hand, the mitten still buttoned to the back of it. He’d bought them for you at a Winter fair last month, they were sunshine yellow with threads of red and orange woven in. Autumnal colours. They reminded him of the first time he kissed you in Millennium Park, the leaves falling from the trees before the winter chill set in.

“Yea.” He answered automatically before taking his drink from your hands. He paused for a moment reconsidering his answer. “Actually no.”

You were the only person he couldn’t lie to. He put on a brave front, but you saw through all the armour he built up between himself and the rest of the world. you always did. His thumb caressed the indentations of the cardboard cup as you sat down along side of him. You nudged his shoulder gently and he took solace in your proximity. You were a safe haven for him. He could say anything to you, and he knew he wouldn’t be judged for it.

“It’s a lot being back here.” He told you, his dark eyebrows furrowing into a frown before he took a sip from his drink. It was perfect two shots of vanilla, whipped cream. He could already feel the warmth of the sugar soothing over his jangling nerves. “It feels like this place is haunted, my dad, Ava, Doctor Downey, it feels like they’re all just in there, rattling around the halls.”

“You have a lot of memories here.” You said softly, your hip pressing lightly against his. “It’s natural to feel a bit overwhelmed.”

He tilted his head to look at you, those brilliant blue eyes meeting yours as his hand came to rest upon your knee.

“There’s a lot of good ones here too.” He informed you. “It’s where I met you. I was in the right place at the right time.”

He wasn’t even supposed to be on shift that day, he’d finished an hour before. But Marcel had been out sick, and the nightshift needed cover and there you were hurling in Ruzek, because he had cut his arm on razor wire while chasing down a suspect. It had been a couple of nights later the two of you had caught up at Molly’s, he’d asked after his handiwork and sparks had flown.

He had been weary after he’d broken up with Ava, he hadn’t been looking for anything that night, but he’d found it. You were easy to talk to and you made him laugh.  His job kept him serious and all the shit with Ava, game playing, the suspicions…

It had been a very long time since he’d actually laughed out loud, he almost didn’t recognise the sound of it. Drinks, turned to dinner, dinner turned to tender nights wrapped up in one other, making love until the sun came up. Before he realised it you had become as important to him as oxygen.

“Kismet.” He said quietly as he recalled the early days.

“You believe it was fate that brought us together?” You asked him, a small smile playing across your lips. His fingers entwined with yours, he could feel the edges of your wedding ring through the material of your glove.

“I think if we hadn’t met here, it would have been another place to another time.” He told you earnestly. “The way I feel for you… I think we were always meant to find each other.”

“I can’t tell you how much I value you Connor, what the two of us have…” You trailed off, your cheeks colouring as you looked into his eyes. “I think we were written in the stars.”

He smiled then and it was like the sun was shining for the first time in the bleakest winter. It warmed you somewhere deep inside because you knew he felt it too.

Love Connor Rhodes? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[aroaceweirdos101]

Hello! And welcome to my blog!

You mean our blog?

Right- anyways, we are the people who manage this here blog. Heres a few things about us!

Mark⛏️

- Gender: Nonbinary(They/Them)

- Sexuality: AroAce

- Age: !MINOR! In High School

- Nationality: Asian/American

- Main Fandom(s): Minecraft & AVA

- Fav Food/Drink: Pineapple Pizza and Orange Juice

Arz🔥

- Gender: Cassflux Genderfae(She/They)

- Sexuality: Aego AroAce

- Age: !MINOR! Also in High School (albeit a few months older, lol)

- Nationality: Asian

- Main Fandom(s): Fnaf & Hello Puppets

- Fav Food/Drink: Mac & Cheese and Chocolate Slushies

[Just to clarify; we are NOT a DID system, just two online besties who run a blog^w^]

⭐Fandoms/Fixations⭐

- Five Nights at Freddy's🌟

- Minecraft🌟

- Lego⭐

- Animation vs Animator/Minecraft⭐

- Hello Puppets🌟

- Murder Drones🌟

- The Amazing Digital Circus🌟

- Poppy Playtime(specifically the Smiling Critters)🌟

- Dandy's World⭐

- Sprunki⭐

- Indigo Park⭐

- Thomas the Tank Engine🌟

- Showdown Bandit

- Welcome Home⭐

- Object Shows(mainly fixating on BURNER, the OG BFDI series and, admittedly, Inanimate Insanity)🌟

- Solarballs🌟

- Chikn Nuggit⭐

- The Music Freaks⭐

- Shiloh & Bros

- My Friendly Neighborhood

- Bugsnax

- Hey Duggee

- Go Jetters

- Plants VS Zombies

- Bluey⭐

- Inside out⭐

- Emmy The Robot⭐

- Ducktales

- The Ghost and Molly Mcgee

- Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles(mostly the ROTMNT version)

- Roblox Piggy⭐

- and probably a lot more!

(⭐ = Current Fixations 🌟 = Main fixations)

🚫PLS DNI🚫

- P3d0phil3s/MAPS/NOMAPS/Z00phil3s

- Homophobes/Transphobes/Aphobes

- Terfs/Radfems/Racist/Bigots/Misogynist/Ableist

- L0li/Sh0tacons

- Pr0blematic/C0m/D4rkshipp3rs/anything similar

- Proharassment(we do not approve of that)

- Kink/Fetish/Vore/NSFW Blogs(the sexual ones, we're find with gore)

🎭Persona/Avatar Ref Sheet🎭

TBA...

👨‍💻Other Blogs🧑‍💻

@ask-the-handeeverse-crew (on indefinite hiatus)

@ask-anonymous-individuals (W.I.P)

@ask-the-scout-siblings (small hiatus)

📱Other Socials📱

Instagram📸

- MinecraftFan_101

- Creator_Arz(moved to Cara, same username)

Youtube🎥

- 🔥FireBlock⛏️(shared account, mostly run by Arz)

Discord🎮

- Creator_Arz

- (Dont have one)

Wattpad📙

- AroaceWeirdos101(shared account)

AO3📖

- AroaceWeirdos101(shared account)

SquidgeWorld Archive🦑

- AroaceWeirdos101(shared account)

#️⃣Blog Tags#️⃣

Art Tags: #arz's art #mark's art #oc art #sona art

Animatic Tags: #arz's animatic #mark's animatic #oc animatic

Writing Tags: #arz's writing #mark's writing #oc writing

Other Tags: #this is arz btw #this is mark btw #arz rambles #mark rambles

Mutual Tags: #mutual's art #mutual's animatic #mutual's writing #mutual's oc #mutual shenanigans

[Note: this post will update overtime]

We hope you enjoy our blog!

[dontjudgemeimawriter]

My Characters' Cafe Orders

I work as a barista and I've been thinking about what my characters would order😊

Syndicate

Terran: Coffee with cream & sugar. He would probably like a flavor shot (vanilla or hazelnut) but wouldn't think to ask for it.

Raymond: London Fog (Earl Gray tea, vanilla sweetner, & steamed milk) or Hot Chocolate

Mika: Green tea, tiny bit of sugar. Or a Chai Latte.

Zachary: He'd want to pick a specific roast of coffee, but my cafe only has one (though the other location has death wish coffee & I wouldn't put it past him to like that) so black coffee it is

-

Second Chance

Chrys: Limeade with boba, the type of boba changes daily.

Russell: Iced tea, probably our pineapple tea

Joce: Joce really likes to try unique drinks, so I think her go-to at my cafe would be the Elden Zing: vanilla syrup, orange syrup, lemon juice, and chai tea.

Ava: Latte, with a different flavor shot every day. Caramel, vanilla, & lavender being her favorites

I feel like this could be a tag game? Idk. If you think it sounds good go ahead & tag me 😊 (of course I based this off my cafe's menu XD). If not just enjoy my characters orders @puzzleddragon02

[magic-spirit26]

AU Suggestions

Hi everyone Arhi the hedgefox here so this will be new of the blog which are AU suggestions I haven’t said anything about this yet but now I amSo I’ll be taking AU suggestions for my ocs and I’ll list the resent ones below so you can suggest one for me to doMy ocs from the Sonic universe but they are hybridsJake the jaghog (Jaguar and Hedgehog)Danny and Xavier the bunndog twins (Dog and Bunny)Kelly the hedgehogGabe the HedgehogIan the hedgekidna (Hedgehog mix with one I can’t pronounce correctly but it’s a hybrid)Arhi the hedgefox (Fox and hedgehog)Zozo Lucifer (Sonic.exe and Arhi the hedgefox child)Lucy (Sonic.exe and Arhi the hedgefox child)Isa (Sonic.exe and Arhi the hedgefox child)Jack & Nick (Sonic.exe and Arhi the hedgefox children)Alex (Mix of 4 characters)Alice (Sil x A)Stacy (Sil x A)Raven (Son x A)Ace (Sha x A)Max (Sha x A)Linda MacyLily CollinMaxwell BlueMaxy  and Macey the hedgebunny (Hedgehog and bunny) Hodarr Zabus Taylor Kai Arhi the Dog Amber the bunny Alex the rabbit Dominic the Rabbit Jessica the Dog  James the Bunny  Max the wolfMikel the catAmanda the hedgehogAce the werehogJack the werehogMaddison the werehogMaddox the werehog Max the werehog Ian the werehog Mike the werehog Micale the werehog Jim the werehog Angel the werehog Zamen the werehog Josh the werehog Nick the werehog John the werehog Kim the werehog Jay the werehog Stacy the rabbit Miranda the dog Jaquinn the hedgehog Kayla the dog Oliver the dog Amilia the cat

Owen the hedgedog

Emma the hedgehog

Olive the rabbit

Angela the hedgedog

Pam the rabbit

Jason the wolf

Jonny the fox

Mason the rabbit

Grayson the cat

Ava the Dog

Conner the hedgehog

Lucas the Hedgehog

Jake the hedgehog

Aaron the hedgehog

Pat the hedgehog

Mat the dog

Jade the hedgehog

Kade the hedgehog

Jema the hedgehog

Kacey the cat

Jeremiah the hedgehog

Kenny the hedgehog

Ken the hedgehog

Melody the cat

Ortensia the hedgehog

Bob the hedgehog

Cole the hedgehog

Opal the hedgehog

Bobby the hedgehog

Chris the hedgehog

Janus the hedgehog

Jackson the hedgehog

Jacob the Hedgehog

McKayla the wolf

Eli the hedgehog

Jin the hedgedog

Layla the dog

June the Dog

Sam the dog

Rosey the rabbit

My exes and others: MS.exe Arhi.exe Danny.exe Xavier.exe Needlefox Isa needle Gorge Spirit Garry Spirit Len Spirit Jake Glitch King Glitch Alice Spirit Gabriela Spirit Ash Spirit Glitch Coby Grown Zosia Way Dallas Grown Maddox Way Marcus grown Mack Grown Ian Way Angela Way Gabe Grown Nick Way Sam way Owne Grown James Grown Jax Way Susan I. Speye and Linda I. Speye (Twins Identical) Karter Spirit Leo error Cristy Curse Cail Curse Ben Magic Kai Chaotic Malissa Chaotic Macey Chaotic Len Magic Nick Needle Nikky Magic Max Grown Sally Spirit Isaac Magic Samuel Spirit Angela Error Alice Needlefox Eil.exe

Olivia.exe

Backroom oc entities: Anti-gravity jack Ava Isaiah Ghost Sam Demon kitty Spider boi TV man Rainbowy Dreamcore ocs: Austin woodlock Tomas Woodlock (Resent character) tick tock tim/tom blind Emily rabbit Tarry Henry dream Kenny the robot cat Sana the robot rabbit Creepypasta ocs: Lexi Wolf Lost Exe Lost Alex Grey Elizabeth Morningstar

Cuphead OCS:

Cuponna

Cherry Mocha

Green tea

Chocolate mocha

Strawberry Calypso

Orange Jamaica

Black tea

Batim ocs:

Emily

MHA ocs:

Trinity

Macy

Lucy

Danganronpa ocs:

Leo Komaeda

Lucky Komaeda

Roy Komaeda

Lily Komaeda

Roy Hinata

Jim spirit

Jessica Hinata

Sally

Dexter

Cassandra Kamukura

Katy Kamukura

Conner Spirit

Xavier Kamukura

Rosy and Cane

Vanessa Naegi

Sam Spirit

Samara Spirit

Isaac Komaeda

John Spirit

Cortney Naegi

Luna Naegi

Tim Spirit

Lessy

Madoka Magica ocs:

Kocho

Animals:

Carter

Lily Jackquin

MVA ocs:

Susie

murder drones ocs:

R

S

A

Z

O

Eto

Eli

ocs:

Magic Spirit and Blare Spirit

Tai Kai

Macy Harkquinn

Jake

Casella Tarisa

Marcus June Keller John Keller Zen C. Akuma/Damien C. Akuma Zane B. Akuma Mr.Akuma Mrs.Akuma Leon Spirit Amilia Magic Azrail L. Zozo Thomas Quinn A lot more down the line  So here’s a list of all ocs Yes you can ask me to make your ocs into this as well or draw the actual character them selves Please have a good day/Night or afternoon

[quarantinescarpet]

My quotes list from over the years

FRESHMAN

-“‘tis I the frenchiest fry.”

-“Someone’s stabbing me in the leg with a spork.”

-“I A DEMOCRAT OOPS”

-Spill the pony tea.

-How many geese would it take to bring down a full grown man?

-Point is, I love you both and I would 10/10 ride a motorbike

-“Apparently someone in Mr. Hopkins G block got scared of turkey noises.”

-“It’s like... it’s like a stupid game of Russian roulette Tetris with giant death machines”

-“I feel like you'd have a shrine to remember Spider-man, complete with candles and every single ‘mr stark I don't feel so good’ meme printed out.”

-“don’t ask me, I don’t know anything about the sex”

-“I WILL RIP YOUR DICK OFF”

-“What’s the difference between gay silence and regular silence?”

-“what yields a focus pencil? A patience tree?”

-“I might boogie on the desk so hard that the gum keeping it together gets unchewed and yeets back into the dimension it belongs in”

-“You smell like my fencing teacher”

-“sponsor a sponsor! Become a child”

-“Woof woof bitch, im a furry.”

-“yo to the hoe”

-“does my emoji still smell?”

SOPHOMORE

-“peter doesn't have a detachable head”

-“two thirds of me is wearing glasses”

-“You look like you have autism. Are you vaccinated?”

-“When did Haydar become friends with Emily?” “In hell”

-“I know you have something to do with Filbert”

-“Ayo beans check”

-“Who cares about beating the game‽ I’m a goose.”

-“You can’t make contact lenses out of cranberries”

-“cannabalism is for beans”

-“You know the party is lit when the epileptic kid starts doing the worm”

-“Imagine getting stabbed to the beastie boys”

-“I CANT TORTILLA MY CHOCOLATE MILK”

-“Pure drip”

-“The All Mighty King Tuggle Wuggle the Original... The 5th”

-“It’s a drink.” “Coal?” “I’m sorry who the heck is drinking coal??” “It’s heroin.”

-“Is climate change good or bad?”

-“I’ve had to keep her from stealing my toes for so long”

-“Apples are delicious, babies are not.”

-“It’s like I’m exfoliating my knuckle”

-“We are literally just birds.”

-“I’m slowly transitioning to emo. Today I’m wearing navy blue, tomorrow it will be black.”

-“Omg Aimee why are you such a try hard” “Oh my god Ava why are you orange?”

-“Wait what the fuck does crashing a funeral have to do with driving?”

-“Why are blonde people driving???”

-“That house looks like stephen king” “its super thicc?”

-“If you don’t do your homework, they are legally allowed to steal your cells”

-“Why would digging up graves be a problem we have to cover during a spa day??”

-“I would commit neck rape”

-“he looked at me and I looked at him and I was like ‘genocide’”

-“like Klaus, from Klaus”

-“SANKADANKA”

-“facism is also gender neutral”

-“I mean we all knew that the birds just wanted the body to be gone!”

JUNIOR

-“you know what they say in chemistry”

-“I got it from bed bath and behind you”

-“A two line poem. I see a frog. My heart: 💕❤️💓💗💕”

-“who needs a straw when you can suck it out the hole?”

-“I wish I could get neutered”

-“eggs are so well named”

-“You’re not a fandon? We don’t standon.”

-“If you’re horny just walk it off”

-“potatoes and molasses, there is inequality between the classes!”

-“save the tiddies”

-“I think I could explain socialism” “okay do it” *doesnt do it*

-“what part of no interruptions does Trump not get?” “The english part”

-“my knees how they crackle like rice crispies”

-“the planet is dying you fucking walnut”

-“do you think I’d be able to avoid conversion therapy?” ”no you look dumb as shit have fun at camp.”

-“the US military uses 738 billion dollars per year, and we can’t dunk the moon into the pacific ocean? Where are our priorities? Disgusting.”

-“I hope he dies on my birthday”

-“the doctor’s sewing you up and you’re like ‘harder daddy’ and they just leave you to bleed out on the floor.”

-“I don’t know what your parents do for a living” “I’d have to kill you if you found out” “oh he’s a conversion therapist?”

-“Peaning, pregnancy, protection.”

-“Being railed and math are two totally different things”

-“Aren’t all white people just german strokes?“

-“the pickles are tasty tonight, don’t you think?”

-"Gay people have feelings too! I mean those feelings aren't valid, but they have them!"

-“Grapefruit is the Wild Kratts of roblox”

-“My lungs are rejecting christianity”

-“Lettuce cereal”

-“get zooted”

-“why are they doin that to my boi Eric Snowblower???” “... do you mean Elric Stormbringer??” “Yes OMG hi futon”

-“Milk towel (sent with gentle effect)“

-“nose haemorrhoids”

-“my favourite colour is bitches”

-“THE LESBIAN FISH WHATS HER NAME”

-“You’ll have time to pull moose daddy”

-“The more you beat it the bigger it gets”

-“Were you wa today??”

-“oh uh slaves are now horses”

-“tarnsgender is a lifestyle”

-“not me misgendering my dishwasher”

-“Kiss! Kiss Kiss!”

-“its a regular human but you can open it up and take a shit inside of it” “like a kangaroo”

-“kiss kill marry, good piss boy, eric snowblower, michael”

-“if you don’t wanna strike the set, strike yourself.”

-“did you listen to waterparks in middle school or have you had sex?”

-“he said his pullout game is strong and he’s only used a condom six times” “tell him he needs the practice”

-“its a didney movie”

-“I already have a dick so I’m good with the foot sucking, thanks!”

-“I don’t misgender you cause you changed your pronouns I just misgender you cause you have pronouns”

-“made a joke and nobody laughed”

-“You’re a socialist gray shut up”

-“dont straddle my dog shes a child!”

-“chloe, kim, kendall, kourtney,,, the genders”

-“which constellation looks most like a dick”

-“I’m being intimate with my pudding. Only my pudding loves me.” “Yeah but it feels a little violated”

-“vending machine, easy bake oven, and ramen are the four food groups?”

-“mom I found your tinder”

-“doesnt this baby look like it would grow up to be hitler?”

-“anti smack”

-“I said no farting”

-“I’m at the point in this trip where I want to make out a little with every dog I see.”

-“I’m worried about your mom right now” “I’m worried about the dogs”

-“I’m going to start streaming” “awesome I’ll watch you! I’ll download Tinder”

-“jesus is coming are you clenching?” “Did you mean swallowing???”

-“Today when I said I had an image to show you and you came to look at my phone I wasn’t on Instagram yet and I was worried you were going to see that my last google search was what is a craisin”

-“My username is deep_seated_fear_of_geese”

-“Savour the flavour, uncle”

-“potential energy this, kinetic energy that, when will anyone start paying attention to the most important energy. dumb bitch energy”

-“Happy easter i guess i don’t know why the heck jesus likes eggs so much” “Jesus has an egg obsession” “And he has a bunny fursona””

-“Cause I’m kinky for color coding”

-“I’m going to name my child Brad. With a silent gh. Braghd”

-“Headcanon that Prince Philip died because he saw unsolicited feet pics“

-“I kin prince philip”

-“theres three genders: kailer, gay tyler, and regular tyler”

-“I swear to god they spent half of their budget making those titans asses so scrumptious”

-“Everything is terrible, can’t magnum dong, repressing my emotions”

-“Master has given dobby plan b. Dobby no longer needs the hanger”

-“I want someone to be just as obsessed with me as my social worker is”

-“You wanted to end the conversation so you decided to be homophobic.”

-“It is commonly thought that there are two types of people in this world, communists and pessimists.”

-“Glass half full glass half empty everyone shares the glass”

-“I thought it was about to be something sexual about slushees and I was like: 😃?“

-“Piss on, I know how to have sex.”

-“Sarah we’re making milf jokes wake up”

-“Its like im having a panic attack but I cant stop making kink jokes”

-“good old fashioned jesus?” “I said gay sex”

-“the straggot and the slurs”

-“grandpa has had way too much time without his meds”

-“You’re gonna find ur special someone bro ❤️ or someone to raw you idk what you’re into”

-“Do you wanna represent conversion therapy?”

-“Don’t punch me! I’ll get a boner”

-“I’m known to frequent elementary schools at night”

-“ever since I found out there were ants in baked beans” “WHY ARE THEY THERE? JUST BAKE THE BEANS!”

-"aaron burr shot hamilton which is kinda kinky and im not into that" "i guess he forgot to give him his safe word then huh"

-“we can’t make these jokes tomorrow people will think we’re fucking crazy” “nah man people will just think we’re FUCKING”

-“this 14 year old just looked me straight in the eyes and said drill me daddy-o”

-“they piss on you when they’re comfortable with you. Thats how it works”

-“are penguins fish or mammals?”

-“car washes are traumatising”

-“it’s okay gray has a 22 year old sugar daddy”

-“I get vored easily and yeehaw”

-“You get really stinky when jade honks for bill”

-“Jade needs a shit sleeve when she honks for bill can we go dunky now”

-“not the llama,,, the liQuid”

-“I’m allergic to jesus”

-“if you cant see stuff in your head how come you can vacuum?”

-“dont be a whore drink instead”

-“pain is temporary, existence is temporary, we’re all temporary”

-“I did not know veggie tales was religious”

-“you’re a sussy baka yes sorry now can we watch the video”

-“I assumed everyone in tech is gray”

-“skyrim wasn’t bad I just wanted fussy”

-“im not gonna get a shrodinger kink”

-“those crocs are bitchin”

-“you seem so put together” “it’s just the shoes”

-“capitalism is my sugar daddy”

-“when aang is riding someone do you think he says yip yip

-“Capitalism breeds innovation? How bout you breed this bussy”

Senior

-“Ollie: Can Jewish people eat the Lorax?

Jillian: Yeah. He is canonically a Nazi you know

Ollie: …Are you implying that nazis are kosher?

Jillian: Yeah how do you think we won the war dumbass”

-“I wanna get manhandled”

-“chryssy is SO thicc. Thats why benson loves her.”

-“are we still meeting autism?”

-“so what im hearing is you stole my prostate??”

-"Benson doesnt have a liver? What about her alcoholism problems!”

-“do [squirrels] have beaks or are they flat?”

-“ I feel like I’d fall into a pond.”

-“I didn’t come”

-“Cis piss”

-“YOU GRABBED HIS JICK?”

-“Everytime I come out as ace people send me all their ace stuff” “omg thats what I do for my italian friends”

-“I wanna be someones thyroid problem”

-“Yeah you could go to bobby about your skin cancer”

-“I feel really pregnant right now”

-“stomachs love diluted slim jims”

-“benson is a milf”

-“aj just gave birth to me” “how?” “teamwork”

-“the universe is nothing but a collection of corpses”

-“tight shaggy”

-“the moonwalking bear will come back to haunt you”

-“You forgot your jizz in the shop”

-“Please be a monster fucker”

-“Wipe the milk moustache off your face because I can’t talk to you”

-“the moonwalking bear will come back to haunt you”

-“You forgot your jizz in the shop”

-“Please be a monster fucker”

-“Wipe the milk mustache off your face because I can’t talk to you”

-“Mr. Hands is my safe-word”

Freshman pt 2

-“nah this isn’t true love this is smash or pass man”

-“the more swords the more smash”

-“virgin??? Like VIRGINIA??”

-“He’s really going ham on him”

[feelingnom]

LOAF POST LOAF POST

i look so incredibly evil with these loaves but know that i am actually just filled with so much glee and excitement that i cant help but look nefarious!

first is vegan banana bread! this was my first foray into intentional vegan baking! normally i cut out dairy in anything i make, but this was the first time i subbed out eggs. i used applesauce instead. i made this with soo much cinnamon sugar because i didn’t have the effort to make a separate cinnamon swirl layer, but i wish i had! recently i made a chai spiced dark chocolate chunk banana bread that was definitely much better than this one, but i’m glad this is something i can grow from. banana bread is only something i make when people come to me with brown bananas but something i really love and can be so versatile while always being warm :)

pumkin loaf is second! man, i made so much pumkin loaf last semester and photographed none of it. this was my first collaborative baking project with one of my housemates and it was super yum. we didn’t use the whole can of pumkin which definitely threw me off and i was semi critical of this loaf at the time, but now look back on really fondly! i think i was really used to the pumpkin loaf i would make with my roommate, and so tasting this thing we had always made together be different was really weird.

THIS IS THE CRAZIEST AND BEST THING I HAVE EVER BAKED!!! tahini orange coconut cake!!! you heard that right!! oh my god this was crazy and it was delicious and i need to make it again. second collaborative baking project with ava omg this was so crazy. we glazed it with maple butter and sesame seeds and i will never get over this loaf.

mini loaf but mostly lemon poppy seed muffins! counting this in loaf post because it was meant to be a loaf and also there’s a mini loaf! this was a drunk baking project and honestly i think i didn’t count the amount of baking soda correctly so these muffins didn’t get as high as they should have. either way this was crazy yummy. i encouraged the addition of maybe too much lemon juice, but i am citruses number one fan and i believe you can never have too much.

[sammy8d257]

Hiiiiii!

I’ve been trying to find all of your aus, but I can’t find anything. Could you maybe post the links?

-Sorry for being a bother 😅

Hi Anon! Sorry it took literally a month to get to this ask but here you go!

Although I will warn you, I haven't updated a lot of these AUs in a while because life and other projects have taken priority, but if anyone's ever interested, send an ask and I'd be so down to infodump about them!

I have all my AvAM AUs + Main Series stuff on this webpage (It really only shows up well on desktop, sorry!)

[AvAM CONTENT]

Otherwise you can check out these tags!

Watered Down Hot Chocolate: Canon adjacent, A collection of stories exploring Purple’s past, present, and potential future in a world of colorful stick figures, kings, games and more. [#AvAM WDHC]

-

Mad King AU: An AvM AU where after falling and dying in the End Void of Minecraft, Purple starts slowly going mad. Featuring slow burn madness arcs, Purple overthrowing King and making him their servant, the Color Gang stumbling upon Purple acting unhinged, and the cosmic horror of an all-consuming void that got bored one day. [#AVM Mad King AU]

-

Cartoon Villain Verse: An self-indulgent AvA AU, first created before AvM s3 started where instead of Dark coming back messed up and evil, he comes back with the silliness of a Saturday morning cartoon villain. Purple becomes his henchman (because why not?) and the rest is history! [#AvA CV Verse]

-

A Ghost in the Machine: An AvA horror-esque AU, featuring Victim body snatching Orange and the consequences that brings. Includes an entire comic + QnA event [#A Ghost in the Machine]

-

Human Band AU: CURRENTLY BEING REWORKED - An AvA AU where all the stick figures are humans and the Color Gang are both in college and in a band. Purple owns a bar, King is their landlord, Dark and Chosen are roommates and Victim is the manager of a boy band. I have a bunch of old stuff up for it but I haven't gotten around to actually making anything new yet [#AvA Human Band AU]

-

Mafia AU: An over the top AvA AU. What if Noogai made Chosen, Dark, Victim and Second for a Mafia inspired animation but later abandoned it? What if the Noogai Stick Figures still wanted to fulfill the roles they were created for and formed a Mafia Gang called the “Noogai Gang”? And what if later, 4 brightly colored Stick Figures blackmailed their way into this gang? Yeah that's the AU. [#AvA Mafia AU]

[avawritesthings]

MY TUMBLR RECS !

disclaimer ! NONE OF THESE FICS WERE WRITTEN NOR PUBLISHED BY ME. please give these author’s a little bit of your love ! all fics are x reader, and some are nsfw.

ava’s note ! i have read and reread all of these fics at least twice, and i just wanted to show my love to them and so other’s can read these wonderful stories! some of these are also on ao3. take this as my apology for barely posting xx

formula one !

lando norris

call it magic - @444lec33

caught orange-handed - @mariahcarreyyy (+ oscar piastri)

slow down, be here - @katsu28

workplace distractions - @curiousthyme

life is like a box of chocolates - @dilemmaontwolegs (+ oscar piastri)

hazy days - @coff33andb00ks

charles leclerc

dime, ¿esto es lo que tú quería'? - @yazmarina (+ oscar piastri)

you wonder why i’m bitter - @moviecritc (+ alex saint mleux)

red flags - @holllandtrash

daniel ricciardo

sweet like grenadine - @scuderiahoney (one of my favs!!!)

picture perfect - @thef1diary

got drunk on you - @userlando

feels like home - harley_sunday (ao3)

oscar piastri

no more mister shy guy. - @jamminvroomvroom

dime, ¿esto es lo que tú quería'? - @ yazmarina (+ charles leclerc)

caught orange-handed - @ mariahcarreyyy (+ lando norris)

life is like a box of chocolates - @ dilemmaontwolegs (+ lando norris)

lewis hamilton

harmony - @curiousthyme

partition - @monzabee

jenson button

missed flights - @whorekneecentral

max verstappen

he must be lucky ! - @adventuringblind

little verstappen - @lxclerc

milk and sugar - @sunrizef1

in the mind of another - @pierregazly (author has a lot of great fics!)

masterlists i’ve binged:

lewisvinga’s masterlist

maplesyrupsainz’s masterlist

pucksandpower’s masterlist

theemporium’s masterlist

nhl !

matthew tkachuk (i am nothing if not matty t’s #1 fan)

baby it’s cold outside - @raysofcrosby

waking up in vegas (masterlist) - @doc-pickles

you say you hate me - @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys

praise you like i should - @senditcolton

want you to want me - @troubatrain

4 times you faked a relationship + 1 time you didn’t - @hockeywhy

love you like me - @heavenlyhischier

jerseys and dumplings - @hockeyboysiguess

four times you sat in Matthew’s chair + the one time they called him out - @ extratragic

jack hughes

saturday sleepies - @leaentries

jersey - @sydnikov

feels like home - @ quintinh43

always an angel - @wineauntie (technically hughes brother x sister!reader)

sidney crosby

sugar sugar (masterlist) - @ holy-pucks

home is where the heart is (masterlist) - @fallinallincurls

bubble wrapped (part of a series) - @myhockeyworld87

lovestruck, went straight to my head - @harlowhockeystick

andrei svechnikov

fake numbers and date numbers - @matsbarzal

gaslight - @comphy-and-cozy

high speeds - @thewintersoldierdisaster (so many great andrei fics!)

in five - @ sydnikov (so many great andrei fics)

quinn hughes

heavy heads and heavy hearts - @quintinh43

wiped away kisses - @theemporium

game night - @sc0tters

baevillier’s masterlist

marvel !

tony “iron man” stark

straight lines and sharp angles - nicky_writes (ao3)

kinds of love (series) - bartonstark (ao3)

james “bucky” barnes

sweet dreams - abovethesmokestacks (ao3)

these ties that bind - sweetascanbee (ao3)

druig (eternals)

three-part series - @ohcaptains

how could they not know? - @saintlike78

mark spector/steven grant/jake lockley (moon knight)

man in the mirror - @fettuccin-e

i’m getting to know someone - davosmymaster (ao3)

keep a secret? - cakealicoi (ao3)

matt “daredevil” murdock

dirty little devil - @courtforshort15

kate bishop/yelena belova

blank space - @ mrsyelena (ao3) (unfinished)

deals with the devil - @ mrs yelena (ao3)

wanda maximoff/natasha romanoff

kidnapped - artemis_writes123 (ao3)

star wars !

anakin skywalker

save a spaceship, ride a starpilot - kkismygod (ao3)

jealousy - kkismygod (ao3)

patched up - kkismygod (ao3)

eventide - ohgodmyeyes (ao3) (more darth vader, less anakin)

the babysitter - ohgodmyeyes (ao3)

braids - sarcastic_bubble (ao3)

primal - lullows (ao3) (ft. obi-wan kenobi)

drunk confessions - oreosmama (ao3)

master + padawan knight senator = ? - darthtrek (ao3) (ft. obi-wan kenobi)

say my name - kkismygod (ao3)

the mandalorian

cold showers - cptnbvcks (ao3)

misc !

jj maybank (outer banks)

amnesiac - cherienymphe (ao3)

i know (5+1) - heathersmoonlight (ao3)

soul deep - heathersmoonlight (ao3)

art donaldson (challengers)

beyond the play - @sapphire-writes

and then there were three… - @kolsmikaelson

good luck, babe! - @sunsburns (ft. tashi & patrick)

the mikaelsons (tvdu)

patisserie - wickedlyemma (ao3) (one of my favs !!)

carmen “carmy” berzatto (the bear)

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby - tinybluewitch (ao3) (the link literally won’t work im sorry)

chicago’s kindest - carmenized-onions (link won’t work either :/)

david von erich (iron claw)

yellow rose - @daysofyellowroses

ransom drysdale (knives out)

rubber? i don’t even like her - @ whateveriwant

lip gallagher (shameless)

out of excuses - @ borntobewondering

billy loomis/stu macher (scream I)

jealous jerks - @ potter-imagines

bruce wayne (the batman 2022)

written in the stars - batsingotham (ao3)

*please let me know if you want me to remove any of these links or anything, i hope i didnt offend anyone <3 also sorry that i couldn't tag everyone !

** i WILL be adding more as time goes on. i have many many recs