#but as time goes on and he gets more and more horrified by his past actions and conflicted about himself

[marsupials-of-mars]

Was thinking about @ckret2 's bill when i wrote this, but it applies to bill more generally. I think the main thing people pick up on, maybe subconsciously, about their bill that makes him feel so accurate is that he feels.

A lot of people (and most people are guilty of this including me whether they mean to or not) tend to write him as a tragic immortal? In the sense that he's been beaten down by time and learned never to care about people, and has lost the ability to care.

And the first part of that is true!

He HAS learned never to care about people! In the tbob love page, he says its stupid to tie yourself to a mortal in a way where your happiness depends on them. He's LEARNED this. But he has NOT lost the ability to care. And he DOES care despite knowing he shouldn't.

He interacts with people genuinely, he legitimately enjoys the company of "lesser" mortal species, he has fun, he thinks about people when they're gone, he's taken lovers, he speaks in phrases hes picked up from past earth decades because he likes how they sound (ya dig?).

And some people are frustrated when he's written suave and unfeeling for this reason, because he is a goofball. But the thing is, he DOES act, in a way, suave and unfeeling when it comes to situations like Ford and Dipper. He plays up his "immortal deity" persona, constantly reminding them of all the knowledge he knows, PROVING his value to them.

But he gets mad! He falls in love! He jokes around because its fun! He gets stupid and reckless when he's upset! He burns bridges when he doesnt get his way! These are all insANELY short-sighted things for a trillion-year-old to care about!

This is why he can relate to people, and why he acts like a kid sometimes. I firmly believe that he stopped aging the day he destroyed his dimension (which is basically canon i think) not only physically but mentally. He legitimately cannot mature, cannot gain wisdom no matter how much he tries.

He has a lot of INTELLIGENCE and KNOWLEGE, but its like giving a child the library of alexandria and infinite time to explore. Sure theyll probably learn some things out of boredom or curiosity, but theres no curriculum. They COULD read it all, but why would they? That's boring and dumb and they want to climb the shelves and make book forts instead.

Now, more specifically about ckret2's Goldie:

He describes himself as a consumate extrovert. He hangs out with mabel and watches tv and goes to the Rainbow club. And while he does these things, he isnt thinking "this is so below me, why should i care about any of this?" He's just trying to have fun, and is knowingly fulfilling his social needs. He believes he and ford WERE friends.

And the most important part of this that im always thinking about is Bill claiming that being friends, enjoying peoples company, loving, playing, and all that is not mutually exclusive with being an all powerful god of destruction to be worshipped by all.

Which makes sense! Because he is INTELLIGENT and he knows that he's more powerful than these people, and he SHOULD be a being that demands their worship, and he needs to find something that lasts, and makes sense in the wake of INFINITY. But he also has the mind of a mortal, and he thinks the same way he always has. And with both of these insights, the ONLY thing that MAKES SENSE is to have his cake and eat it too. Focus on the big picture while also enjoying the present, SIMULTANEOUSLY.

Manipulating ford to his own end that leads him closer to his forever plan, while also bringing him to karaoke and falling in love. Securing his rule and reputation over the nightmare realm, being feared throughout the multiverse, having his fingers in as many pies as possible-- while partying with his henchmaniacs, drinking out of solo cups and flashing the cops.

Its the only thing that stops him from going crazy. If you have a mortal mind thats built to love and lose and feel and party and wisecrack, and you relinguish it to the horrifying prospect of timelessness, if you're always looking at the existential...you are not going to last a trillion years.

[tossawary]

Watching the prequel trilogy all at once makes the differences in Obi-Wan's character from movie to movie even more apparent. Obi-Wan is barely in "The Phantom Menace" as more than "that guy who follows Qui-Gon around" until he kills Darth Maul. He gets surprisingly little character focus, interiority, development, etc., considering his major roles in the following two movies.

And then in "Attack of the Clones", Obi-Wan and Anakin spend most of the movie apart (again). His banter with Anakin is fun and I think not without affection, but can also be read as distracted and dismissive. Anakin says Obi-Wan is like a father to him and Obi-Wan goes to order a drink on the job, the timing of which I found funny as hell. Anakin's first real private conversation with Padmé has him unloading his frustrations with Obi-Wan (on this acquaintance he hasn't seen or spoken to in ten years, who is going through her own shit right now), telling the audience that Anakin personally finds Obi-Wan too distant and critical. So, like, Anakin's own flaws aside, it does look like maybe Obi-Wan was not in a good place to raise a child. (It doesn't help that Obi-Wan's reaction to the clone army in this movie is not more horrified for the poor (at the very least) indoctrinated-since-birth clone soldiers here. Like, uh, he (and the other Jedi) seems weirdly chill with that part in "Attack of the Clones".)

And then we reached "Revenge of the Sith" and, hm, I don't recall the exact context. After rescuing Palpatine from Grievous and killing Dooku, it looks like the war is going to end soon, and Obi-Wan takes the time to smilingly tell Anakin how proud he is, very warm and affectionate. And I had a "Oh, wow, who is this guy? Where did this come from?" moment, because this is NOT really the Obi-Wan we've seen in the past two movies. It's like Obi-Wan Kenobi abruptly came out of the Clone Wars with renewed emotional balance and a personal resolution to more freely express his positive feelings - a writing choice that makes the break-up, you know, actually hit harder when Anakin starts murdering everyone and tries to kill Obi-Wan.

Anakin's shit choices in these movies are still very much on Anakin, of course! But it is amusing to hold "You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!" up directly against "Obi-Wan Kenobi as Background Character #1" and "exhausted and judgmental older brother, who wasn't ready to become the man of the house, has to go on a work trip again and he'll keep avoiding talking about your feelings when he gets back". It's an incredibly uneven and therefore unintentionally amusing to me depiction / execution of a main character.

[22degreehalo]

Haruka kissing Fuuta and him immediately flashing back to all those times he sent death threats to proshippers for 'sexualising neurodivergent people' by writing smut about them because traumatised people 'can't consent'

[reverie-starlight]

{airport pickup - michael kaiser }

I saw this vid and immediately knew I had to write something inspired by it.

fem!reader, no physical descriptions, lots of fluffy fluff, I’m extremely down bad for one (1) Michael Kaiser and it shows in this fic. reader speaks a bit of german. if he’s extremely out of character to a horrifying degree, just know that I haven’t actually read the manga, he just takes up 90% of my brain. I’m working on it I promise 🥹

dividers by @/cafekitsune

kaiser isn’t used to being on this side of an airport pickup.

normally the roles would be reversed- he’d be coming home after a round of away games, tired and sore after pushing himself, and you’d be waiting past the gates with a smile and open arms looking like the epitome of home.

but today it’s him who is nervously glancing at his phone every few minutes, checking the time, waiting for a notification from you to see if you’ve landed or not.

you've been away for work, a conference of some sort that you had been handpicked for. he’s very proud of you, of course, but now he’s had a taste of what you must feel while he’s away and it makes his heart hurt. at least when he's overseas with his team he has constant distractions and he's often too tired to fully register the loneliness that comes with not sleeping beside you at night.

but now that he's on the off-season, training doesn't take up as much of his time and he's forced to confront a house that doesn't quite feel like a home without you.

all he wants is for you to be in his arms again. to hear your laughter, your slightly off-key singing while you’re doing chores around the house.

he’d wonder if this is really how you feel when he goes away, but he’s confident enough in your feelings to know that it is. and it pains him.

next time he travels he’ll insist on bringing you with him. he doesn’t want you to suffer through it anymore.

kaiser waits another ten agonizing minutes before your text notification goes off and he’s fumbling with his phone, trying to unlock it as fast as possible. he curses under his breath when he almost drops it and clings to it with both hands for extra security.

he’s glad he chose to go with the makeshift disguise, because he’s not sure if he’d ever live it down from you or his team if someone were to catch him in this state of desperation and post it.

(although you’ll probably laugh and call him a dork regardless of a post when you realize just how excited he is to see you. he’s counting on it, actually.)

plane landed, heading to baggage now :))

he breathes a sigh of relief and quickly lets you know where he's waiting.

how many times has he been to this airport? it must be somewhere in the thousands by now. how pathetic is it that he can't go find you without risking getting lost? he makes another mental note about learning the general layout in case this ever happens again.

knowing that you're safe and in the same building fills him with more unbearable anticipation. just as he's decided he's had enough and gets up to look at the signs that will lead him to you, he catches sight of your familiar figure and bright luggage.

your eyes meet his and you both break into wide smiles, but as you examine him and walk over, faux confusion takes over your features. he narrows his eyes suspiciously, knowing you're up to something.

"excuse me, sir," you say. "could you help me find someone?"

kaiser sighs, playing along with your antics. "no promis-"

"he's tall, has blonde hair with blue dyed tips," you cut him off, mischievous intentions clear as day to him. "kind of handsome?"

he rolls his eyes affectionately. "sorry, I don't thi- kind of handsome?"

you burst into laughter at his incredulous expression, unable to keep the act up.

"liebling, I think you mean extremely handsome, hm?"

you shake your head. "nah, not really."

he glares at you and squishes your cheeks together between his palms. "nimm das zurück!" his tone is playful, so you feel confident enough to stick your tongue out at him.

you pry his hands away from your face and happily let him wrap them around your waist. "du bist so leicht zu necken, michael," you card your fingers through his hair and he hums.

"missed you," he admits, finally feeling at peace.

"I missed you too, schatz. can we go home now? I'm jetlagged and in need of affection I don't feel comfortable displaying in an airport."

he nuzzles his nose against your hairline and presses a quick kiss there before resting his cheek on your head. "I'm already home, süße."

he doesn't see the tears welling in your eyes, but he knows you're touched by his words from the way you pull him closer and hold him tighter.

turns out you’re already home too.

translations:

nimm das zurück! - take that back!

du bist so leicht zu necken, michael - you're so easy to tease, michael.

süße - sweetness/sweet thing

liebling, schatz - dear, treasure

thank you @dira333 for checking the translations over for me <3

considering I haven't fully read the manga, it goes without saying that if he seems slightly out of character, that's why lol

hope you enjoyed!!

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hello 👋 can I get a little body switcheru with twist dorm liders and Yuu? Even better if we'd have F!Yuu in this one ❤️!

I don't think I'll be doing all the dorm leaders right now but just a few 🖤🖤🖤

Body Switch | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

What a gift! To see precisely what your obsession sees, to touch with their perfect hand, to hear their lovely voice whenever they opened their mouth. Oh, the possibilities are endless! No matter the circumstance this is the stuff of dreams nightmares:

Vil Schoenheit

“OH SEVENS!”

Is at first horrified at the feeling of not being in his perfectly preened body

In his clean and not dingy home

But it diminishes when he realizes the one screaming in the dirty mirror is you

His precious love

“Ergh these black heads are insane. My potato has been neglecting their routine. That’ll be good to make a note of.”

He immediately gets to work

He has to make the next 24 hours in his dearest’s body count 

and he’s got so much to do and such little time

Immediately he inspects your home and makes a note of everything that’s lacking in Ramshackle

Perfect ammunition for his proposal to move to Pomefiore

Next he reads your diary or journal if you have one

And he dives into your photos and makes a mental note to send more headshots to you

Next he goes to Rook

“We have less than 12 hours before I return, get your camera.”

Already planned and prepared the photos are perfection

Next he takes your measurements 

Both for clothes and for ropes and fluffy cuffs

He debates deleting your friends from your contacts

But he’s not petty he is he’ll just send a text or two with passive aggressive undertones

And when he’s got close to an hour 

He takes the time to…examine your every inch …careful to not leave a mess behind

“So…soft and round…they will look glorious in couture.”

Idia Shroud

“Eeek! It worked!”

Spends nearly an hour squealing and jumping around

But then he goes to the mirror and starts his fantasy 

Using your lips to confess an undying love to Idia Shroud 

He records it and everything 

Next he goes to his room, already set up to allow a very specific code

He goes to his dorm

Everything is going perfectly to plan

Next he plans to dress you in the cosplay he already has your measurements for

“Yes! Now I just have to take this o-o-off! Ack! T-their s-skin! No! I can’t e-e-even if I’ve s-seen it through the camra it is so different!”

He genuinely can’t make it past your shirt

Too embarrassed and caught up in simply seeing all your skin

So instead he’ll move onto the next objective

Going to the pick up spot he’d already designated

Riding calmly as your taken to some unknown artificial island 

“Hehehe well at least one objective was completed…let’s just say that other one isn’t one of my skill levels just yet. Hehehe I’ll have more than enough time to level up though!”

Malleus Draconia

Someone or you must have said that little expression

“Try walking in my shoes! Its really inconvenient when you scare everyone away from me!”

“In your shoes?”

So he tries it 

Having your body become his own, allowing a day without his, in your words: overpowered bod

Oh is he warm

So warm he feels like your constantly hugging him 

Its immaculate

Than he spends a good while just admiring you in the mirror 

More than happy to study every pore of your skin in great detail

“Oh I did not realize their birth mark was this adorable.”

But he’ll soon find your legs ache so easily

Why can’t he stand straight for seven hours without your knees getting wobbly

Or how defenseless you are 

With nothing but his tiny wisps if his own magic to sense 

Its kind of horrifying 

But as agreed he tries to go throughout the day as you 

Enjoying the attention of all your friends

Granted they send weird looks when he says something odd

But you’ve already employed Grim as ‘his wingman’

Who frantically tries to get him through the day

He learns so much ‘by being in your shoes’ 

“I do not appreciate everyone having such careless interactions with you, especially when the amount of muscle let alone magic is…concerning.”

[loveinhawkins]

“Why are you wearing cologne?” Dustin asks after barely one second in the van.

“I’m not,” Eddie says, and promptly wants to die at how unconvincing that was. It’s not even technically a lie…

He makes it out of the school parking lot with Dustin saying jackshit, so for a little while, he thinks he’s gotten away with it.

More fool him.

Dustin abruptly lunges to the side, all up in his face like the world’s most dedicated sniffer dog.

“Ew, gross! Get off, man, I’m gonna crash,” Eddie says, even though they’ve been at a stop light for the past minute.

“Okay, correction,” Dustin says, drawing back. “Why are you wearing Steve’s cologne?”

Eddie stares into the middle distance, prays for The Upside Down to come and swallow him up.

An agonising silence.

“Oh my god,” Dustin whisper-screams. “Oh my god.”

“Look, just—”

“Oh my god!”

And yup, ow, that’s definitely become a full blown scream now, and double ow, Dustin has just socked him one in the arm.

“Hey!”

“What the fuck, Eddie?! How could you not—”

“Jesus! Take a damn chill pill, Henderson, I swear to—”

“Since when you do you say shit like—oh my God, Steve says shit like that. You can’t let him get to you like this, Eddie, you’re too young to die.”

“What does that even mean?”

Dustin keeps jiggling Eddie by the arm as he pulls up to Dustin’s house. Even when his stomach is jangling with nerves, he can’t fight a smile at the kid’s antics.

“Holy shit, this is big,” Dustin says with wide eyes, and it bothers Eddie that he can’t get a hold of what sort of expression is on his face. “This is huge.”

And all of a sudden, it doesn’t seem all that funny anymore.

“It’s not,” Eddie says quietly. “It’s really not. It doesn’t have to be, like… look, Dustin, can we just—if it bothers you, just drop it, and we can pretend like—”

“Wait, what? No.” And now Eddie can read the remorse on his face. “Shit, sorry. Eddie, I didn’t mean, like… big in a bad way, I swear.”

And goddamn it, Eddie trusts him. Of course he does.

“Okay.” He lets out a long sigh, tipping his head back in his seat. “Okay.”

“I just meant… like, you know The Royal Family? In England.”

…What.

“Oh, please, run with this analogy,” Eddie says, a mixture of curious and hysterical, “I’m dying to see where it goes.”

“You know, when they have news, they put it outside the… Palace? Like, on a stand. So people know.”

“Are you fucking implying that you are the public to our… wow, I’m so sorry, Henderson.” Eddie can’t take it anymore; he wheezes with laughter, can’t hide how relieved he sounds. “Next time I’ll ruin your front lawn and put a huge fucking sign there, then you’ll know that—”

“I didn’t mean it literally, asshole. I just…” Dustin shrugs. “Just meant if you wanted to, like… mention it. It would be cool. It is cool.”

“Cool,” Eddie echoes faintly.

“Cool,” Dustin repeats, emphatic.

Jesus Christ, I love you so much.

“Aw, Henderson,” Eddie says, “were you gonna make us a card or something?”

“Do you want a card?” Dustin says dryly.

And yeah, he’s being a little shit about it, but there’s also a note of sincerity hiding in there that has Eddie fighting a lump in his throat. He chuckles through it, flicks Dustin’s forehead.

“C’mon, get out before your mom thinks I’ve kidnapped you.”

“She thinks you’re an angel now, and you know it. It’s horrifying.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a Saint.”

Eddie waits until Dustin’s at his front door before reversing, watches him with silent fondness as he greets his cat.

He says through the side window, “Hey, Dustin?”

Dustin turns back. “Yeah?”

“We’d have told you first anyway. We were gonna, I swear.” Eddie scoffs. Smiles. “Not our fault you’re Sherlock Holmes, man.”

Dustin smirks, but his eyes are soft. “It was pretty elementary.”

[harmfulb1tch]

How about a Coryo fic where he and reader had a thing before the 10th Games but after everything happened and Coryo went to 12, reader got engaged to someone else maybe Festus or someone??? Coriolanus comes back and tries to get reader back and idk how that goes 🙏🏽

Fallen Rose Petals

Part 2

Summary: he came back, but you were married to another.

Warnings: Angst (happy ending), fluff and suggestive smut (nothing graphic)

A/N: I tried to keep him as in character as possible, but I added a bit of softness because I was in the mood ok??? Please suggest More Coriolanus snow fanfics if you want to, the requests are open!

He came back. He came back just for you. He searched for you in every corner of the Capitol. And he found you, he really did. You were sitting in a café, beautiful red and black dress draped on your body, the white rose he gave you before he left to district 12 pinned to your dress just above your heart. You looked content. You hadn’t seen him yet as he approached you, but something didn’t feel right. Something felt different. He kept approaching you until he saw something shiny on your finger, a golden band with an enormous rock on the center.

Festus Creed came out of the café with a strawberry croissant covered in powdered sugar, you favorite. He hugged you and started kissing your neck in the middle of the street. You looked horrified, embarrassed and even disgusted, but Coriolanus was just seeing red. You looked to the side trying to get away from you husband, and saw the blonde man of your dreams walking away. You gently tried to push you husband away but when that didn’t result effective, you practically shoved him to the side, trying to run after him. You high heel’s retrained you from running, as if it was a sign that he was already gone and you were to live the rest of your life with Festus.

Truth be told, you never wanted to marry Festus. He was arrogant and, frankly, you hated him. You parents on the other hand decided that you had to marry someone of influence and money who could “take care of you”. You always thought Coriolanus Snow was going to be that man, but your parents had other plans.

“Corio!” You called after him like your life depended on it, but to no avail, he never turned back. You dropped to the floor dramatically, as tears stained your face and destroyed the make up you were wearing.

When Coriolanus arrived home, he immediately shut the door of his bedroom harshly behind him, ignoring the comments of concern coming from Tigris and his Grandma’am. After that, in a fit of rage, he started shouting and trashing his bedroom. He threw things against the walls and off the shelves. He felt absolutely blind with rage. After all this years of him waiting for you during his exile, thinking about you even in his sleep and fantasizing about your life together once he came back and had you in his arms. Now, all of that became a fantasy of the past.

The first thing you did after all that, was run towards the street and call your driver to take you to Coriolanus’ childhood home. You knew where it was because all of the time you had spent there during your time at the Academy together. When you arrived, you knocked on the door.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!” Tigris said as she opened the door of the house, unaware of the situation that had taken place.

“Hi! Is Corio here? I need to talk to him, it’s urgent” you said rushed, filled with anxiety.

“Uh… yeah he’s in his room. But um.. I don’t think it’s a good time-“ you cut her mid sentence brushing passed her and rushing towards his bedroom. You knocked three times but there was no answer. You then proceeded to open the door.

The sight in front of you was miserable. You knew Corio never looked vulnerable in front of others, so you had never seen him like that in your whole life. He was sitting at the edge of his bed, with his back to the door. He had his head draped on his hands, hunching over the side. You could hear him softly crying. This scene was so unlike him you didn’t think it was truly him. Everything around him was completely wrecked, which wasn’t unusual for him and you had seen his outbursts before.

You softly walked towards him, and placed a hand on his shoulder softly as to not startle him. You didn’t know if he knew it was you, or if he thought it was just his cousin. You draped your arm over his shoulders and placed your face on his shoulder. He looked to the side and saw you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He said harshly, moving away from your touch.

“Corio…” you said in a soft tone, just above a whisper “I’m sorry…”

“WHAT ARE YOU SORRY FOR HUH?! FOR BEING A TRAITOR?! YOU COULDN’T KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS AND WAIT FOR ME?!” He started shouting at you as he stood up, making you feel small and weak sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Corio-“

“Don’t call me that”

“It wasn’t like that. I was waiting for you! My father arranged the marriage not me” At this point, you had started crying and felt absolutely horrible for something that wasn’t even your fault “Please Corio… you have to believe me…”

You knew Corio wasn’t likely to forgive you. But in a small moment of vulnerability caused by a crack in his heart, he placed his hand on your chin and made you look up at him. He loved you this way, beneath him, vulnerable, always so open to his touch. He then cupped you face with the same hand, you leaned into his touch, still crying, while he softly wiped a tear from you face.

“I love you Corio, and I missed you. I’m glad you’re back” you said smiling softly.

“I love you too, petal. And I missed you so much…” this was extremely weird for him, but you appreciated it. He proceeded to kiss you with so much hunger and lust, you got lightheaded.

This was what felt correct. Your kisses with Festus never held passion or love. When you kissed Corio, it was as if you heart exploded in a million pieces. You felt like putty.

When the kiss ended you hugged him and cried in arms. He could tell you weren’t happy in your marriage and that you were forced into it. For the next few hours he held you close to him and made love to you like you deserved. He knew Festus didn’t fuck you as good as he did.

Then, you had to go home. You were about to leave through the door when he turned you around, pressed you against the door and once again tilted your head upwards to look at him.

“I will convince your parents for you to leave that scumbag. I have the money now to give you the life you deserve, petal. I promise” with that he yet again kissed you possessively and let you go, pushing aside his jealousy, only because he knew he would end up having you as his wife.

[hijackalx]

Headcanon thingy, but how would the companions + Gortash react to their lover taking a blow meant for them? (Sweetheart survives, but they'll definitely need some time to recover)

this post would get realllyyyy long if i did all the companions so i did the male companions + gortash, but let me know if u want me to do a separate one for the female companions too 💗💗

GN!reader, small mentions of violence

GORTASH

he’d prefer for you steer clear of any conflict— he considers it beneath you to get your hands dirty— but he doesn’t like to argue. he imagines one of these times you’ll learn your lesson, meaning he’s fully expecting you to come crawling back after a good whooping while promising to never do it again

when he’s approached by an angry subordinate, shaking their fist and yelling profanities at him, he easily maintains composure— he knows his steel watch could reduce anyone to a skid mark on the earth with a simple command. his scrappy sidekick however…………… 👹

he’s only slightly embarrassed when you jump in front of the aggressor, telling them off for their disrespect. suddenly their anger is directed towards you, resulting in a nasty pop to the face that sends you onto the floor. his eyes widen at the sight of you injured for his sake, and with one sharp inhale, he orders his steel watch to destroy your attacker. (and their family. and their friends. and their acquaintances)

he stays at your side while you get bandaged up, threatening the healer’s life every time you wince. he asks what you learned from this experience, hopeful. you think “i need a thicker skull” probably wasn’t the right answer, seeing as his immediate response is “🗿” LMAO

WYLL

he loves to be the one who swoops in and saves you. it really gives him that “heroic” feeling (even if you have to pretend to be his damsel in distress). you guys are always giving your enemies the ick 😹😹

this all goes to his head though, and he can get a little too cocky— like when he jumps in to take on too many enemies at once, and is clearly having a hard time defending you both. he tries to maintain his heroic persona, but you can’t help noticing how you two are getting backed into a corner

while he’s distracted and putting on a show of chivalry, you see an enemy going straight for his blind spot. it’s too late to retaliate, but you do have enough time to jump out in front of the attack. he watches you fall to the ground in pain, HORRIFIED by the fact that he failed to protect you. he forgets his knightly act in a fit of desperation, fighting as dirty as he needs to so you two have the opportunity to scamper away

he criticizes himself SO badly over your injuries. the hit may have broke your face but his failure broke his soul... 💔 LMFAO. he vows to you that it’ll never happen again, and that he’ll be more vigilant than ever from then on out— cue his extremely rigorous and inspirational training montage

GALE

he usually stays toward the rear during battle, using long range magic attacks while you take care of things in the front. he’s not adept at wearing armor and his robes don’t offer much protection— it’s just smarter this way

now imagine how his feeble wizard bones begin to quake when an enemy sneaks past you and sprints his way with a melee attack LMFAO. he’s a planner, not an improviser, so his brain races a million miles a minute trying to think of which spell to use. he needs to cast something powerful, but your close proximity makes him hesitate

you notice his stutter and quickly reach out to off the enemy. unfortunately, this results in you turning your back to another and opening yourself up to a sneak attack. you’re hit hard, and it takes you out of the fight. luckily, the last enemy has 1 HP, so he can easily finish them off with a hasty bop on the head from his staff 💥

afterwards, he’s STRICKEN with worry, cradling your face and trying to get you to speak to him clearly. once he realizes that your injury is healable, you get whiplash from how fast he switches back and forth between admiration and concern. “that was absolutely amazing! 🤩 ” “I THOUGHT YOU DIED!!! 😵”

ASTARION

you guys are super playful in battle. seeing who can kill the most enemies, doing fun combos together, trash talking (it’s giving legolas and gimli). fights with him on your team are rarely serious

he’s quick and alert, so he’s an expert at dodging attacks— it just so happens that you’re standing behind him one of these times, and you end up taking the full force of the blow in his place. he’s used to teasing you for your misfortunes in battle, so his first instinct is to point and laugh 😭

when you don’t get up and give him a bloodstained grin, he realizes something is seriously wrong. a wave of panic washes over him, and the last thing he remembers is switching into feral vampire mode to get you two out of there safely— i’m talking ripping out throats with his teeth 👹

you’re immediately scolded once you come to; “imagine how bad that could’ve been!”, and “you scared me half to death!”— a.k.a he feels SO BAD for letting this happen LMAO, and he 100% blames himself for not knowing you were behind him. he admits it was his fault after you promise to be more careful, and he promises that he will be too (with a little leg room for fun, of course)

[nothingtoseehere00-00]

Just imagine Steve figuring out he's bisexual and realizing that when he dates a girl, at a certain point into dating them, he's gonna have to tell them that he's also into men. Of course since it's the 80s, the chances of them being okay with that is probably slim. They might think he's disgusting or that he's just gay playing straight.

So he tries dating guys instead, thinking that's safer. And he ends up meeting a great guy named John at a gay bar who he really likes. Things are going strong until they started talking about past crushes and first loves. Steve casually mentions celebrity crushes on women and having loved Nancy. And thus Steve gets his first ever experience of the rampant biphobia in queer spaces. John accuses Steve of being confused and trying to hold onto his "straightness". Steve tries to explain himself by saying that, no, he really does like women, but that only makes things worse. John now believes that Steve is just going to eventually leave him for a woman, if he hasn't already been cheating on him. John ends up storming out leaving Steve devastated.

He goes crying to Robin and explains what happened. He's horrified to realize that no matter who he dates, there's always going to be the risk of them not accepting him, guy or girl. But he can't hide that part of himself, it's too big. It's who he is. Robin is there to reassure him that if someone can't accept him being bi than they don't deserve him. It's able to cheer him up a little, but the damage has been done.

Steve is now very reluctant to date anyone. And if he does manage to bring himself to go on one, he gets complaints of being very emotionally distant or having a fear of commitment.

When Steve inevitably falls for Eddie, he's scared out of his mind. It's clear that Eddie is gay based on his hanky, but, again, that doesn't mean he'll accept Steve's bisexuality. One night, while the two get so high in Eddie's trailer that Steve has to stay over, they argue about sleeping arrangements. Eddie keeps insisting that Steve would probably be more comfortable with Eddie sleeping in another room for some cryptic reason and Steve, who gets incredibly clingy while high, keeps shooting back with them sharing a bed being fine. When Steve keeps asking why they can't over and over again, Eddie blurts out that it's because he's gay. Without hesitation, Steve's says he knows and points at the hanky on the dresser by the bed. Staring at Steve for a moment, Eddie then asks how he knows about the hanky code. This time Steve hesitates. For awhile. It honestly scares Eddie for a moment, thinking he's been vecnad. If Steve hadn't been high, he maybe would have been able to think of an excuse, some way to get out of this conversation, but he can't. So he admits that he likes guys.

Eddie very excitedly starts asking a bunch of questions and talking about how they finally found something they have in common, who knew? When he notices the tears in Steve's eyes, he stops, confused, and asks what's wrong. So Steve tells him. He's not like Eddie. He's bisexual. And he braces himself for the backlash. For loosing his best friend and crush.

But then he feels a hand grab his. Eddie tells him that they still have something in common because he's also bi. Steve points out that he said he was gay, though. Eddie asks if he has ever told anyone that he was bi before, specifically gay men. Steve nods. Then he asks if it went well. Steve shakes his head. Eddie tells him that's why he said that. He's explains how tiring it is to have to explain his existence to people who won't get it and/or react badly to it. So he just tells guys that he's also gay. It just makes things easier. And Steve gets it. By God, does he get it. They spend the whole night exchanging stories and experiences, for the first time able to talk freely about their love life.

And by the end of the night, they stumble over each other trying to ask the other out. They laugh and both say yes.

[targaryenluvs]

— the hand that feeds you

pairing: dark!aemond targaryen x fem!handmaid!reader

summary: you’d shown kindness to aemond early on as his handmaid, from which a friendship bloomed. but aemond had grown a dependency on it, and on you.

warnings: obsession, pining, arranged marriage

a/n: i haven’t written for hotd in soooo long, based on this request! i did change it up and have them be friends rather than her not liking him <3

he would not leave you be. aemond targaryen was obsessed with you, his sweet maid, for years.

it had stemmed from his childhood, the day after the incident with the velaryons. his old maid was frightened of him, and his disfigurement. she’d quit once she fully laid eyes on the little prince, so horrified she ran out of the red keep and hadn’t come back since. but life goes on. your mother worked at the red keep, one of queen alicents ladies.

your mother had hoped for you to work by her, perhaps under the princess helaena. but alicent had hoped for someone to take aemond on, and with how sweet you seemed from your own mothers tales she figured it be best to trial you with him. and lucky it worked.

aemond was standoffish at first, understandably so.

he was cold and rude, never bothering to stay around long enough for you to get a word in, your efforts discarded. but over time you’d managed to get him to open up. your soft demeanour was suspicious to him, half the people in his own castle couldn’t meet his eye, they talked to him and tolerated him out of respect for his station, above them. not because he was aemond targaryen.

your kindness was one in few, a rare occurrence. and soon enough a friendship blossomed between yourself and the prince. it may not have seemed so by any on lookers but aemond felt comfort in your words, your touch, in you. you’d never meant it as anything else but friendly.

aemond was smart, and wise, unbearably so for his age yet it never seemed to register with others in his early years. you noticed, you helped him bring it out. and soon enough aemond found himself craving for you, however he could get you. and as he grew his love did too. unknown to you of course.

you’d watched him grow from a young boy to a grown man, skilled and talented, more so than most. you admired his hard work, the hours he spent into building himself up, getting past his reputation as the disfigured boy, a distinguished prince now. feared as well, his skill with his sword was fascinating, the way he moved and fought was remarkable. his gorgeous silver locks, and sculptured face.

he was fascinating, but you only saw him as a friend.

you were now a young woman, stunning and intelligent, a woman grown. you’d been moved to be under helaena, which had upset aemond deeply, but he didn’t let anyone know.

and of course he knew that men would be coming for you. your own lordly father drowning in marriage proposals for his own daughter, of which you were blissfully unaware under false pretence and promise that you’d marry whoever you wished.

so why not enter himself in the list?

his name was quick to garner attention of course, and rose to the top of your fathers list immediately. a targaryen prince, wanting his daughters hand in marriage. was there anyone else better?

of course not.

aemond would finally have the girl he’d hoped and dreamed for since childhood, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. you wanted this, right?

what aemond didn’t anticipate was your rejection.

“aemond you are but a friend of mine, a good one of course. but you’ll marry a gorgeous lady, more well known than i, you’ll be happy. and i’ll marry lord james, he’s quite sweet, i like him.” the two of you had been walking in the garden, talking of the future when aemond brought up the idea of your marriage.

his one good eye began to sting, perhaps there was something in his eye.

“y/n.” his voice was stern and unwavering as you stopped in your tracks, your dress spinning as you turned on your heel, “my prince?” he hated your formality, he expected it from everyone but you. “you are already set to be mine, out betrothal is set.” you shook your head immediately, “no, no my father promised!”

aemond found your crying incessant and irritating. “it’s set, there’s nothing you can do. would you rather marry a random man, or me? i know you, y/n, and i know i can treat you better than any man alive. i will spoil you, i will care for you more so than i already do. with me, you’ll never have to worry about anything.” your tears annoyed him to no end, yet he’d let you cry for now.

for when the tears dried, and a new day dawned, you’d be tied to him, forever.

and who on earth would you be to bite the hand that feeds you?

[ezdotjpg]

do you have any directors commentary on the recent two updates? 👉👈 the color palette is absolutely lovely! and and and WOLF!! :DD

OH BOY DO I

In the original draft of this chapter, Wolf stays a, uh, wolf until like the 4th update. Instead of actually managing to get his teeth on the master sword, Loft threw him off immediately. The Deku Tree still said the line about all three of them being heroes and Slate is like. “Including the fucking dog????!” I thought it was very funny but a) it made some scenes later down the line a huge pain and b) I was tired of drawing wolves ALDKDKD

You may have noticed Wolf’s scowling in the bg of almost every panel. That’s kind of just his face, but also right now my guy is nursing the world’s biggest migraine from popping the shadow crystal out of his skull. He can stay wolfmode for a while, but it’s still technically a curse. It’s not consequence free, and there’s an upper limit for how long he can spend in that form. Anyway, cut him some slack if he’s a little prickly for a bit.

There were a lot of comments about Loft being strong enough to toss a wolf over his head lol. My hc is that he’s one of, if not the strongest Link sans any magic items like power bracelets or gauntlets. He’s actually not even as strong now as he was during his quest. Wolf maybe has him beat now, but he can still get tossed lolol

It might seem like Slate’s really taken everything that happened at the end of ch1 in stride, but don’t worry. He’s simmering. Loft is grateful for the opportunity to get distracted by something else. Maybe that’s why he was so willing to approach the wild animal he’s never seen before lol

This maybe goes without saying based on the events of the last two updates, but Slate never had wolf link with him during the events of botw. He doesn’t recognize Wolf.

I’m really glad ppl seem to be liking the colors bc I struggled with them so hard on both updates 🫠literally days of me turning to my roommate and going “I think I’ve never made anything worse” and them going “it looks good stop being dramatic” WKDJDK I have this thing where if I had an idea in my head for what an update should look like, and what I produce doesn’t meet it somehow, I start seeing in fucking. shrimp colors. Posting always gives me a confidence boost back lol.

these pages were cursed in general bc like. this doesn’t usually happen but I think I redrew every panel in this update at least 5 times each. that’s part of why it ended up being late SKDJF

I REALLY like the idea of being in the presence of the Triforce and having access to its power being this eldritch, divinely horrifying experience. The sort of thing that is impossible to explain to anyone and also haunts you forever. Loft spends a lot of time actively trying not to think about the Triforce. Just, like, remember that about him.

Like how tears in reality are shown through holes in the literal comic panels, I tried to show the concept of reality bending in the form of a panel stretching and twisting like a ribbon ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I hope that came across. Triforce lore varies a bit from game to game, but I’ve come up with my own internal logic for bonus links that combines all the ideas I like lolol. We’ll learn more about it in due time!

I also really like this parallel :D I intentionally set up the panels so past and present loft would line up like this. i love getting to draw flashback links it’s so fun to think of ways to convey what they used to be like, and how their quests might have gone for them. Past Loft’s not having a great time by the time he reaches this point lol

I think that’s all I’ve got for now. Thanks for asking :D

[jolapeno]

17. tangerine dreams

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter seventeen of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 4.1k chapter warnings: dad!frankie. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. flirting. too idiots who clearly want to have a future together. a little anxious rainy. an: i love them i love them.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

You didn't mean to, but your finger presses the screen again.

It illuminates, unveiling the time and how another three minutes have ticked on by. A sigh quickly escapes, nostrils flaring from your exhale as you shake your head at how time passes slowly, as though shuffling its feet to become a bit later.

It shouldn’t bother you, should be able to quiet the irrational from spreading into faux reality.

Because things happen, days get away—

His work could be insane, Luca could be ill; he could have written the message out and not clicked send. All things which are plausible, possible. All good enough reasons to not have woken to a good morning text or have heard from him by lunch.

Yet, you stare at the unread message.

Unread messages.

It’s irrational. Baseless. Yet the worries mount like they’re pressing down on your bones and making your head swim in a sea of doubt as they remain unanswered, unread, unnoticed.

Your eyes blur around the way your messages are sitting there, unable to be retracted. All plural in nature. The words ‘sent’ sitting under them, as memories swirl from the conversation the two of you shared after you’d slipped into bed.

It had been warm, usual, no sign of anything changing—but he had been quiet. Less talkative. You had needed to prod him a few times by name for him to hum, and come back to you.

And now, you’ve woken and it's hard not to believe everything feels different. From your home feeling unfamiliar to the quietness you’ve been plunged in.

Maybe, it had been too much too soon. Maybe you'd overstayed your welcome and he was attempting to retract his three words and his promises and his—

Shaking your head, you rub your eyes with the base of your palms. A scream burning on your tongue. Because he isn't them, he's Frankie.

Good, kind.

And you wish he were here. A thing you can’t say. Not again. It had already slipped out last night, through the cracks of comfort; murmuring itself past your lips before he wished you goodnight. It had slipped out, escaping—

Home is you, Frankie.

You can’t remember his reply. Can’t remember if he thought it was cute or sweet, or if he was horrified and filled with dread.

A thing which tangles up inside of you, becomes matted, and clogged. Not able to be broken apart when you step under the water from your shower. Finding yourself shattering instead, breaking, soap lathering and washing away, repeating, as you conjure all the things you could have said that may have upset him. The jokes, the quietness last night; the flirting and the fact you spoke to his ex. It builds, morphing, twisting, doing so until your skin prunes and no more tears are blurring with droplets.

It forces an opening, one where unruly thoughts can break through, prizing itself open as your finger presses the screen again.

Because it’s always this way. Interested, until they’re not. In love, until they aren’t. Staring as the black screen goes dull again. Memories of past relationships where messages went unanswered for days, leading only to painful goodbyes, flashed through your mind.

Fingers pinching the backs of your forearm, almost bruising, doing so until your eyes stop springing fresh pain and the towel becomes another heavy thing constricting you.

Fool. You think it—digging it into flesh. Again. And again as you dress, as you hang your towel. Burying your nails so deep you could rationalise it as the reason tears drop down your cheek as you wander into your almost finished office, crouching in the centre, readying for a sob to escape, to leave—

“Rainy?”

The slam of your front door ripples through the house, hearing it a clatter of keys, wallet, hat—more thuds than placed—as your fingers brush away your sobs, wipe them as though they never existed, standing up from your crouched position to face him. To stand two strides from him.

Frankie's usually warm eyes are shadowed with exhaustion, but you spot them softening as they meet yours, tinged with concern, love.

And he’s holding his phone up, a crack right down the screen—little lines running from it, fractured so similarly to how you must appear right on the inside.

“I broke my phone, well Luca broke my phone, but—”

You exhale—both in relief, in thankfulness, and also because it allows you to fill your lungs. To calm yourself. To banish the shadows away to find the strength for yourself to walk across to him.

Because a past version of you would have shrunk more in yourself. Taking the warning, the fear, and used it to build walls that would keep him out. But you're not that person, not now.

Not just because of him, but because of you. The choices, the decisions, the little things that led you down a path to not needing, but finding him all the same.

“—we was having a morning. Slept through my alarm, and then drop off, and then Harold—”

His words halt with an oof as your head presses itself into his chest, and you inhale. The faint scent of his cologne mingled with the smell of freshly brewed coffee, which lets your heart rate calm before his fingers tease the back of your neck. Rooting you, helping you unknot the last ropes of worry and panic.

“I love you,” you whisper, right against his heart, feeling his fingers slide around the side of your neck, hooking under your chin.

And you repeat it. Softer, swathed in a sigh—relief.

Feeling his face burying itself in the top of your head, a kiss given, one pressing to your forehead when you lift, to your nose, and then your lips.

Biting your lip, fingers sliding over his chin, his jaw—tentatively brushing the wiry hair and the soft dimple that begins to appear—as he asks, you okay?

Nodding, swallowing. Burning the panic that had been bubbling in you all morning.

“Just worried you’d had enough of me.”

He whispers your name—each letter, each syllable—before following it with never, I've missed you so much.

And you believe him. You believe him.

How’s my lover?

Still getting used to this new phone. But, outside of that, my son told me that I look old because my hair has grey bits in it, and then I got to work and gave myself a splinter.

I meant Harry, but that’s a lot baby, I’m sorry.

You’re awful to me.

Would me offering to suck your splinter out help?

You fancy using your key tonight?

Starting to think you hate being by yourself.

I appreciate you giving me time with Luca, but I miss you. A lot.

Is there pizza and uno?

I can promise you one of those things.

Tssst. Only one?

Was thinking Chinese and uno?

Sold.

Unlike days ago, alone, wishing for his voice, this morning you’re woken by fingers on your ankles, lips on your lower spine. All soft strokes, interchanging with drags.

“Need you to get up so I can show you something.”

Groaning, lashes fluttering on your cheek, turning your head on the pillow, you find his skin glossed in sweat, wearing the tell-tale signs that he’s been up for a while.

“Frankie…”

“Shh. Surprise time,” he whispers.

Body crawling up the bed as you turn in his sheets, both hands taking either side of his cheek, bringing his mouth to yours. It’s intimate, intense—right. You taste coffee on his tongue, hoping your own breath doesn’t taste half as bad as you can imagine the morning could be.

Whispering, urging you to come on, to get up, even as he lowers his body on top of yours. As he tries to move the duvet and slots your knee over his jean-covered hip.

“Making it really hard to get up.”

“You’re not making it hard for me to get up.”

Laughing, head tipping back as his grinning mouth trails kisses up your neck. Feeling his other palm slide up your stomach, right under the t-shirt you’d stolen from him.

“You know I’ve seen your cock before, if that’s the impressive thing you’re showing me.”

Snorting, he hovers his face over yours, finger tapping the tip of your nose.

Twenty minutes later, your fingers are knotting through his as he leads you through his house. The morning air is crisp, the sun filtering through the trees as he leads you out of the back door. Half-dragged, and still a little sleepy, Frankie’s hand is warm and steady around yours, leading you outside.

“C’mon, just a bit further,” he coaxes gently, voice a soothing balm against the early morning chill.

You squint against the light, noticing the faint scent of paint lingering in the air. Frankie finally stops, his hand releasing yours as he rubs the back of his neck, and you see it.

The table. The one from a yard sale a few weeks ago—as your eyes flick to his, fingers teasing through his curls, a habit you’ve come to adore.

“I um… tried to strip it back, see what shade it was first,” he began, his voice tinged with nerves. “But I know you love this colour, so I thought—”

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the sight. The garden table, the one you’d both made an entire fake scenario around weeks ago, joked that you’d serve him lemonade and bake him cookies. And now, it’s here, a beautiful, vibrant shade of butterscotch, all freshly painted and gleaming in the morning light.

Emotion wells up, your chest tightening as you realise the effort and thought he’d put into it.

“I—I love it, Frankie,” you manage to say, voice choking up. “I… you went and got it?”

Glancing at the ground, arms folding across his chest as he nods. “Right after I dropped you to meet your friend.”

His hand scratches at his arm, pausing mid-scratch, eyes widening into a joyful smile as though all your words dawn on him. “You like it?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “You… god, I don’t deserve you.”

His grin widens, before he pulls you close, wrapping you in his arms, kissing your cheek, the gesture tender, reassuring.

“You did this.” Your fingers slide up his cheek, not forcing the tears back like you’d usually, kissing him. “You bought us furniture?”

“Yeah,” he says, as if it’s nothing, finger-swiping your tear away as his breath warm against your skin. “Told you, it’s you and I”

You nod, resting your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you. “You and me, technically.”

He kisses a laugh to your lips.

Me and Benny have decided that yoga would kill you and Will.

You enjoy your class?

I did. I think Benny is still working out what he feels. At one point he asked me to put him out of his misery.

Did you?

Yes, I’ve committed murder.

Well, wouldn’t be the first time. You in that lace set the other week—still think I died there and you brought me back.

Mouth-to-mouth really is something special, isn't it? Oh, Benny’s decided that in your next training session, you’re doing yoga.

Baby, I’ve seen you, I don’t think I can do that.

Oh, you can't.

Did you tell him that?

Yeah. He's still laughing.

The music, which has been blasting from your phone for the last ten minutes in the background, suddenly dies on your phone. Glancing over, suds sliding down your arm, you see his face and name light up the screen, bringing an automatic smile to your face.

“Hey, handsome—” you greet, your voice filled with warmth.

“I’d like it on the record,” he says, the rumble of his engine coming through the call, accompanied by the click of a turn signal, “yoga isn’t for me.”

A grin spreads across your face as you drop the plate back into the water, splashing yourself in the process. “He made you do it, didn’t he?”

“He fucking made us do it,” he replies, the exasperation in his voice tinged with humour.

You dry your hands on your jeans and pick up your phone, sliding into one of the chairs in the kitchen. “I owe him ten dollars now,” you say, your tone playful.

“He said.”

Laughing softly, you bite the nail on your thumb, a habit he has begun teasing you about. You listen as he starts recounting the names he was subjected to in the yoga class, his deep voice filling the silence of the room. Names such as Goddess Squat, Cat and Cow, Table and others fall like a list, listening, occasionally helping when he struggles with the name.

“—Baby, I don’t know how you do it,” he says, a mix of admiration and incredulity in his voice.

You pull a knee up to your chest, resting your chin on it as you smile, the affection in your eyes carrying through your voice. “Practice.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t know if I’ll be doing it again,” he admits, and you can hear the grin in his voice.

“I told him you’d struggle with it.”

“Struggle? Baby, struggle is a nice word for what Will and I looked like.” Sniggering, all attempts at burying it in your hand fail as you pretend to clear your throat. “I heard that.”

“Not sure what you mean, Butterscotch.” He grumbles something as your elbows come to rest on either side of your phone. “You want me to massage you, baby?”

“Fuck… don’t do this to me, Rainy. I’m driving.”

Smirking, biting the nail on your index. “I’d warm lotion in my hands, press my palms to your back—”

“Fuckin’ Christ, baby.”

“I’d have to be naked, obviously.”

You press your thighs together when you hear him groan through the phone.

I need you to be free Saturday.

You need me?

Always. But I specifically need you to be free on Saturday.

Leave it with me. Can I know what I’m required for?

No.

Ominous.

It’s a surprise. A birthday surprise. Do you trust me?

I wondered when that would come back around.

I take that as a yes?

Of course. Just checked, I’m all yours.

Harry be okay?

He said he can ask his nephew to help out.

Is he doing okay?

He’s currently making puns about a new product, so I’m going to assume yes.

The car hums softly as you drive.

The late morning sun casts a golden glow across the dashboard. Frankie is sitting beside you, a puzzled smile playing on his lips as he glances periodically at you, trying to decipher your secret—whatever it is up your sleeve.

He interchanges between resting his hand on your thigh, fingers tapping a light rhythm that matches the song playing on the radio or re-picking a new station.

“Alright, Rainy,” he says, a heavy curiosity in his voice. “Are you ever going to tell me where we're going?”

You glance at him, heart fluttering at the sight of his easy grin and the way the sunlight highlights the flecks of gold in his eyes and the little flecks of silver coming through in his curls.

“Not yet,” you reply, a playful lilt in your tone. “You'll just have to be patient a little longer.”

Chuckling, he shakes his head. “You know I'm not good at that.”

“Oh, I know. But trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

The landscape outside the car window begins to change, the city giving way to rolling hills and lush greenery. As the song changes, you steal another look at him, watching him mouthing the lyrics to the song playing before his expression shifts from curiosity to realisation as you near your destination.

Finally, you turned onto a narrow road that winds through a grove of trees, the sunlight dappling the ground in patterns of light and shadow.

And, Frankie’s eyes widen. A spark of recognition ignited in them.

“Is this—?”

You smirk, unable to contain your excitement—stomach doing flips as you slowly begin to nod. “I thought maybe it was about time you introduced me, even in passing, to your first love.”

He’s leaning forward, seatbelt tense against his chest, hand on your dusty dash as the sun streams in and highlights the way his fingers go white from the pressure.

Picking a spot in the gravel, you put it into a park, killing the engine, staring off at the open field—where two helicopters are parked. Nervousness rolls, balling up as you give him a moment, staring ahead, resisting the urge to glance over and see his reaction. See if you've gone too far. Remembering the way Benny's brows had lifted when you'd asked when you'd told him your plan.

Maybe it hadn't been surprise at the kindness, but surprise at the audacity, at the balls—

It's then you feel his hand on your leg, squeezing. Dragging your eyes to him to find his smile so far into his cheeks, making you wonder if you could get lost in his dimples. His eyes are nothing but softness, so full of affection and nostalgia, you think your chest inflates with love.

“Rainy...

It leaves his lips all thick with emotion, as you squeeze his hand on top of your thigh. “Come on, handsome.”

Exiting, walking to the front of the car, you extend your hand, able to breathe a little easier when he slides his fingers within yours.

“Meet Robert—Robbie,” you say quickly, watching Frankie shake his hand—brows knitted together in confusion he tries to hide over the rest of his face. “He’s a friend of Benny’s—and he has a helicopter.”

Frankie’s head turns to you, eyes still a little wide.

“Now, it’s up to you. It’s your birthday gift. But, if you want to go up in it, you can, Robbie can be your co-pilot—I showed him a photo of your old license and Benny helped fill in some things for you. But, if you want to stay on the ground, show me around the cockpit,” you smirk, leaning into him. “I’ve packed us a picnic. It’s in the back of my car.”

He whispers your name.

Not your nickname, your real name. It's all soft, flowy—so gentle as it passes his lips and kisses the air as he stares at the helicopter ready.

Moving closer, hand sliding along his lower back, you stare at his eyes as they move to yours, dropping your voice, “I know you haven’t flown since… then. I don’t think it’s a waste if you want to stay on the ground. But, if you do, I’ll suspend my belief that I’m not going to feel some kind of way about being so high up.”

“You scared of heights?”

“I’m not the biggest fan of being in the air in a small metal contraption?”

Snorting, rolling his jaw, he frowns, before his face smooths out and he cups your face, his eyes searching yours. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Warmth spreads over your cheeks, feeling the heat of his gaze. “I just wanted to do something special for you.”

He kisses you then, slow and sweet—the kind of kiss which makes time stand still. Almost forgetting everything, the wind, the sound of it dancing through the leaves as your arm slides around his neck, hips moving closer to his when his hand finds a home there.

It’s only when he finally pulls away, his forehead resting against yours, and you feel his breath mingling with yours, do you think about poor Robbie who has thankfully walked back to a hanger.

Frankie looks past you, something unreadable stretching out across his face. Assessing, almost calculating—a face you’re coming to know well. Spotting the slight narrowing of one eye, the way his teeth bite the inside of his lower lip and his nostrils flare.

“Can I show you around?”

Offering your hand, he takes it, sliding his fingers slowly between yours, knitting your palms together. With a playful grin, he guides you around the helicopter. At first quietly, before he points, clears his throat and begins explaining something.

From then on, it’s hard for him to be quiet. Each part is shown, the door opening and shifting you in front so you can clear, as his voice rings with the passion and precision of someone who has spent countless hours in a cockpit like this one. His fingers trace the curves of the fuselage, his eyes sparkling as he describes the functions of the rotor blades, the tail boom, and then back to the cockpit instruments.

You listen, captivated. Not only by his knowledge but by the joy that radiates from him as he speaks—even if you struggle to follow. Even if your nod feels hollow and you’re lost in watching him talk so enthusiastically about something that you’re so new to.

Then, your stomach grumbles. Eyes widen, his voice trailing off as he stares at you, before slowly grinning.

“Shit.”

“You hungry?”

Face scrunching, wearing a face nothing short of apologetic, you bury your head into his chest. “I was so nervous I didn’t want to eat before the drive.”

He kisses your head, burying an, “Oh, Rainy” against your hair before he moves an arm around you.

“You say you packed a picnic?” You nod. “Alright, well I could eat.”

“Are you just saying that? Because I feel like we’ve barely touched the cockpit.”

Smirking, kissing your forehead again. “Let’s eat.”

Taking charge of spreading out the blanket, choosing a spot right near the helicopter—Frankie quickly catches up with Robert. Doing a little half-run back to you as you set out the plates, the glasses.

“You tell on me that I touched his leaver?”

“Yeah. I said, my girlfriend—who you told not to touch anything—touched everything. Practically licked your leaver.”

Heat flushes your cheeks at the word girlfriend. Even if you've been it for so long, it still makes joy bloom across your face, your skin and makes your ears warm as blood rushes to them. So much so, that you dip your chin, digging into the basket for the sandwiches from the place he likes, and the snacks you’d managed to make.

“You should be careful saying that sentence to anyone not on this airfield.”

There’s a pause, and then he laughs.

Joining you, sinking to his knees first before sitting more comfortably when you hand him a foil-wrapped sandwich.

It isn’t until you take a bite of your own, do you feel your muscles relax. Your body sag, falling into its natural place as the conversation, as it always does, flows easily. Your mind calming, relaxing from all the worries last night of possible annoyance, maybe even anger—hurt and all others.

Instead, it’s all punctuated by laughter, by smiles, and the occasional brush of his hand against yours.

“Happy birthday,” you say, pressing it to his lips.

His thick fingers, glide over your neck, around the side, remaining at the back as he swallows. Before there’s a thank you against your lips, against your cheek, before your fingers find a grape, and pop it against his mouth.

Chewing, he smirks, you slide to sit beside him as you grab another chip from the open bag.

It's quiet, but comfortable as the two of you eat the food, the sun cresting in the sky, as Frankie slowly leans back on his elbows, looking thoughtful.

“You know,” he begins, a mischievous glint in his eyes, his gaze locking onto yours. “Would you like to see the sky?”

Your heart skips a beat, excitement and nerves mingling in your chest. “Really? You’d take me up?”

He sat up, his expression earnest. “If… If you trust me. I know it’s been a while so, can understand if you’d rather not.”

“Frankie,” you whisper, kneeling, sliding across the blanket to him as you clutch his face, “There’s no one I trust more than you—well, other than Luca. The kid really cannot lie.”

Grinning, feeling it against your hand, your palm. Finger stroking at the dimple that appears as you stare at him.

“I know it’s safe—I know I’m safe with you. But, I know this is a big deal. I know you had to walk away from things, so if you’re sure, then I am. I just don’t want to put you off.”

Frankie’s face lit up with a smile that made your heart soar higher than any helicopter ever could. “If anything, I think you being there is just what I need.”

You’re both quick to begin putting away the picnic, him taking it back to the car before you find yourself seated behind him. Headset on, belt done and checked by Robbie—watching Frankie sitting in the cockpit, finger switching controls and dials flicked.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice coming through your ear, your hands gripping your thighs as you smile.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I’m ready, baby. You and me.”

His laugh, crackly through the microphone, ripples out. “You sure? Not you and I?”

And you roll your eyes, just as the blades go quicker overhead, and you brace a little more for leaving the ground.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[evilminji]

Gold can be exchanged for goods and services (o.o )

Pariah's Keep probably has a shit ton of Precious Goods from various places.

Danny is become King?

If Danny becomes King... then the Zone will somewhat obey him. The Crown and Ring could EASILY tell him where the next natural portal is, where it opens up, and for how long. How many there are. Could probably make a few.

Probably WAS supposed to be making them. Consciously. But, well, Coma(tm).

Would probably count as Kingly Duty to filter and collect. Clean Ecto goes out for souls that remain, a Gateway home for those that wish to LEAVE, so forth and so on.

Effectively, being The Grim Reaper. You don't CAUSE Death. You just guide the way home. If folks so choose.

And that's neat! Horrifying, but neat! And Danny can TOTALLY see how it would eventually drive him completely breakfast cereal fruity nuggets! LUCKILY, he's got a vaguely bro's/Mentor thing going with the ghost who has ALL OF POSSIBLE TIME flowing through HIS head! So Danny should be Gucci!

The headaches suck though.

But WHAT... to do with all this Gold and valuable Space Goods? Most of these aren't even recognized currency on earth! Like the Shells. You could buy a mansion with one of those... on the right planet. On Earth? Pretty paperweight. Hmmmm >.>

Wait.

WAIT!

<o> *points to top of head!* CROWN! It can? Predict and make PORTALS!

Portals lead any WHERE and any WHEN!

:O

Gold... can be exchanged for goods and services. He remembers, holding a gold brick, about to eat so, SO much pizza.

But WAIT! I hear you wondering! Surely, you mean? Within his past? The history and region of space he knows, right? Ha ha :) Nope! Cowards.

Danny is on the alien otter's planet, trading those sweet, sweet Shells for some snacks no human could eat and a shawl for his sister! He's hiding, badly, behind a food stall in the Martian market place. Hoping future hero J'onn Johnes doesn't notice him.

Lying to the Space Cops, bout where his untraceable Space Money came from, on an alien trading satellite. The Green Lantern's not buying it. Oh noooo >.> sudden Fright Knight. Looming Menacingly by the loading doooocks. Everyone's upset! Definitely not related to him! Better go check on that! :) *gets the heck out of dodge* (my king. Please stop using me as a distraction.) (No promises)

But! It's all fun and games? Until your human friends get sick. Like... REALLY sick.

And then you suddenly remember time and space mean nothing to you. One 15 minute flight that way, two doors, a quick flight of stairs, and a literal child's play place slide? You could be in the 32nd century.

That disease is AT BEST, an unpleasant afternoon, there.

Here, your friend could die.

You trade a student two Spanish dubloons. They have no idea what they are. Just like the look of them and know they're real metal. They walk into the pharmacy for you. Don't question your "social experiment paper" lie.

You're back in less then an hour.

The screaming argument about ethics and mortality lasts hours.

She still takes the medicine. Gets better. Won't talk to you for months. Because why does HER life matter more? Why bend the rules for HER? And you can't bring yourself to say what pulses as Truth from both Crown and Ring.

You could because she didn't Matter. Time... would not notice, nor change. She was in no way pivotal to the flow of history, must one more ant beneath its unrelenting march. Mattering only because those who love her CARE. Because one or two little things might change for the better.

But it takes the shine off of it, a little.

Being able to go to the FUTURE. Watch movies and see aliens and humans alike in the crowd. Read books and dance to songs from people who won't be born for hundreds of years. Eat snacks from the farthest reaches of the cosmos. Or the early BCs!

And that's BEFORE other time travelers clock him as That Shopping Guy. The one who keeps popping up... buying things. For what? Unknown. Probably dinner. Half the time it's food. Trinkets. Once it was a really, REALLY nice goat. (His aunt was THRILLED.)

It probably drives Bart crazy. Because NO ONE knows anything about the guy? Everyone just universally goes "oooh yeah! HIM! Yeah, he sure does Exsist(tm). Very... present and exsistant." Like that's not CRAZY! He has so many question. So Many! What is he even BUYING!? Why? Is there an order? Or is he winging it?!

*pulls out list* he needs ANSWERS!

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Halloween 🎃🎃🎃

Something lady Mo?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49

Lan Xichen is more surprised than anything else.

He has often spent time over the past thirteen years expecting Jiang Cheng and Wangji to come to blows. Wangji holds him responsible for Wei Wuxian's death, something Lan Xichen both understands and doesn't.

Wei Wuxian had survived so much worse than falling off a cliff face that there are days that he's convinced Jiang Cheng's paranoia is correct and Wei Wuxian really is walking around out there somewhere. It explains why no matter how many times his brother plays Inquiry, he never receives an answer.

The rest of the time, he's sure that Wei Wuxian has to be dead. He loved too fiercely to stay away thirteen years if he truly walked on the same plane as all those he treasured most.

Wangji and and Jiang Cheng have kept a simmering hatred between them for over a decade, each putting too much blame on the other for how things ended with Wei Wuxian. To see them fighting to draw blood is not a surprise.

That it's over Xuanyu is. Then again, perhaps she is just the last straw, the last thing they can withstand the other mishandling.

Xichen keeps an eye on the fight and even as blood starts flowing he stays out of it. This is a long time coming and while he's not willing to let anyone die over it, perhaps a little spilled blood will clear the air and do them all some good.

But Xuanyu turns the corner, frantic, with A-Yao following behind, significantly less frantic.

She goes white, which can't be good in her condition, and then she leaps into the middle of the fight. Lan Xichen jumps to intervene, because if one of them hurts Xuanyu then the other really will kill him, and of course he never wants Xuanyu to be injured, but especially not while she's expecting.

Except it all happens so fast that he doesn't get the chance.

She unsheathes her sword and swings it behind her, stopping Wangji's blade from hitting her back with her own blade. Wangji freezes immediately, horrified.

Xuanyu uses her sheath to knock against Jiang Cheng's blade, putting it just enough off course that it misses her shoulder. She steps closer, grabbing his wrist that he raises automatically, stilling it and Zidian both. "Enough!" she snaps, meeting Jiang Cheng's eyes squarely and scowling.

Jiang Cheng goes perfectly still, except his eyes which go almost comically wide.

He looks like he's seen a ghost.

[starry-bi-sky]

This is very inspired by @minnesota-fats post about Danny being Bruce Wayne's clone (which has been rotting in my brain for two days) but an au where danny isn't just Bruce Wayne's clone, but also not fully a ghost.

both ideas can be used separately honestly, the idea just came to me while thinking about the bruce wayne clone idea, and a lot of this idea is just "danny without his ghost powers. i might probably make a part two that delves into him being bruce wayne's clone.

Hear me out.

A Danny Fenton who has the ghost sense and the fangs and the pointed ears and the scary eyes and an increase ecto-essence, but does not have the ability to "go ghost". His accident occurred when he pressed the "on" button on the outside of the portal, and the button electrocuted him due to faulty wiring. He ends up miraculously surviving but not without some new additional abilities (and electricity-based trauma).

Since Danny no longer has a built-in alter ego with the invert wardrobe to match, he doesn't see the point to take ghosts back to the ghost zone. What the hell can he do anyways? All he has is a cosmetic add-in, a lower body-temperature with an impressive ability to hold his breath longer than a human realistically should, and a built-in ghost detector. Not very helpful if you ask him.

That is, up until he goes into the lab after his parents catch a relatively harmless ghost and sees them vivisecting it. He's horrified. He thought his parents were using hyperbole when he said they'd tear them apart molecule by molecule.

(Granted, he also believed that ghosts were unfeeling up until he saw this random ghost being absolutely terrified for its existence on the table.)

After an argument over his parents harming the ghost, Danny goes back up to his room and refuses to leave, not even for dinner. Later that night after his parents went to sleep, Danny steels his resolve and sneaks back down into the lab and releases the ghost back into the ghost zone.

This happens a handful of times, until, finally, frustrated, Danny tells the latest captured ghost to tell anyone inside that if they even think about coming through, he'll capture them and bring them back to the zone himself. It's for their own safety.

The ghost agrees, and goes back inside. Danny steals a "failed" thermos from his parents' stash of weapons. The next time that a ghost shows up, its the lunch lady from episode one. Danny manages to defeat her without being seen, but knows that if there's gonna be consistent daytime ghost attacks then he can't base his luck around fighting without witnesses.

So he fashions himself with a makeshift outfit. This really only consists of an old, nondescript hoodie and a plain black face mask. Its the best thing he can do at short notice, however. Later, for his nighttime ghost fighting, his outfit is only slightly better.

He considered using one of his parents' lab suits. But white sticks out at night and the material doesn't protect you from road burn. His outfit is pretty homemade, with knee and elbow pads under his clothes and multiple layers. A long sleeve shirt over a hoodie over a black denim vest he found on sale. He later on manages to make brass knuckles ghost-proof and manages to stitch them into his gloves. (he gets very good at sewing).

His favorite part of the entire outfit, is a Casey Jones-style full-face mask he found while thrifting. It allows him better breathability than the face mask he was using (calling Rule Of Cool law here), and he can use his scary eyes to make him look more intimidating. His gloves, his mask, and his thermos are the things he carries around with him constantly, and, later on, wears baggier clothing to hide the fact that he's wearing knee and elbow gear under his clothes.

Did I mention he has long hair? Danny has long hair (because GNC danny ftw, it goes past his shoulders) that he braids back. it's a bit sloppy but it keeps his hair out of his face well enough. He takes the fenton creep stick with him.

(He and Bruce have, ultimately, a more lean build than a bulky one. It helped Bruce with his Brucie Wayne persona big time when he had to look like a pretty skinny boy, he uses body language, optical illusion, and body armor to make himself look bulkier as batman)

He still goes by the name Phantom. He still has a bitter rivalry with his parents, who have no idea that its him. They think he's probably some other ghost with beef with the other ghosts (he still triggers their ghost sensors), and still want to capture him.

He doesn't talk around the living. He doesn't have any fancy voice changer and dropping his voice hurts and ultimately, he just uses ASL if he ever has to talk in front of people. The ghosts know his voice at night, but not during the day.

He hardly talks to the living. He avoids them like the plague actually. When he defeats a ghost and there's an audience, he barely sticks around to have a nice friendly chat. He tries to get away as soon as possible. He's paranoid over people finding out who he is. He doesn't have that ghost form to fall back on here.

Oh god this is getting so long, so i'll post another part soon.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

[bigshotautos]

I really like your theory about Spamton basically haunting a mannequin after death. Have you ever touched upon the reaction from Jevil (or anyone, really) upon seeing the new Spamton? Especially considering Spamton isn't even aware he 'died'.

^ how i think jevil's first sight of Spamton would go. i love this ask. this is referring to some headcanons I made a while back, I'll link it here for the one post and the general ghost spamton theory is linked in that one as well. Going to elaborate on it more under the cut for those interested + more art.

In general I think that people from Spamton's past wouldn't really care if they notice at all, since he wasn't in the business of making close friends with anyone. With the Addisons, in my interpretation he had a "weird co-worker" relationship with them, and while Addisons in general treated each other like potential business competitors that they had to make-nice with, Spamton is especially easy to single out for being visibly and temperamentally different. His altered, current state is something they'd feel at least uncomfortable by, but many wouldn't have been too close with him to begin with for them to talk about it with him directly. Would get whispered about between each other for sure, like we saw with them talking about Spamton after the NEO fight. It moves him from the "disgraced guy I used to know" category to the "actually unpleasant to look at or think about" territory. This goes for Swatch, Queen, and Seam (less so), who seem to buy heavily into the Lightner and Darkner dynamic, with Spamton corrupting the Lightner's dream being a strong taboo against what it means to be a Darkner.

As for what Jevil thinks, Spamton during the NEO fight is both a beautiful and horrifying display. Jevil at this point hasn't seen him in years since his imprisonment, and in their time apart Jevil has grown to find novelty in the cage that everyone else besides him is in since he's created huge emotional distance between him and the reality he lives in. Seeing the fact that Spamton had corrupted an abandoned dream of a Lightner and was causing so much chaos to the established order of the world would be exhilarating, but at the same time seeing that Spamton had accomplished this and still had his strings visible (and changed to a marionette puppet with no symbolic agency), it'd be a painful confirmation of his worldview that even Spamton, who deep down he still cares for, could never have been free.

Jevil would think at first he'd just gone through some nebulous situation to change what he looks like, since ofc he himself has toy-like traits (arguable if that happened with Gasterfication or not), Seam is a plushie cat, and other Card Castle Darkners are based on toys, but feeling the lack of life combined with the symbolic body of Spamton would mean to him something bigger had went wrong. He wouldn't dare to bring it up in an empathetic way, stuck in his mindset that it doesn't matter, but it'd still hit a part of him he doesn't like to think still exists. It's something he gets over quickly, almost performatively going back to fucking with him and taking advantage of his fear for entertainment, but it didn't sit well at first.

To me, the fact Spamton "died" isn't really a huge deal, kind of like with the ghosts in Undertale where no one really cares they're just ghosts. They're just doing their thing. To me it'd be fine if neither of them find out what happened for certain, but it's something that adds Flavor to his character.