#i dont have time to write this idea.

[doctorcanon]

I cant sleep so modern!linked universe hc time.

- Rusl buys Twilight a dna/ancestry thing for his 20th birthday.

- having been adopted into the Ordon family since the age of 15, the gift doesn't go over well at first.

-However after some deep conversations, Rusl explains that he promised Twilight birth parents that he'd do this if anything happened to them.

- Still Twilight procrastinates and after some cajoling from midna, finally does it a year later for his 21st birthday.

- at his party, a small family dinner at the Ordon home with Zelda, Illia and Midna in attendance, he lays the envelope on the table and says "before I open this, I want you all to know that what ever I find in here that you are all my family and I love you all."

- the first thing in the envelope is his genetic information, some basic stuff he already knows, some stuff he doesn't and somethings Zelda remarks he should see a doctor about. Apparently he's actually 65% Karariko as Renado predicted.

- the second thing is copies of his mother and father's Service Papers. Both served in the military; one as a murse and other as an officer. Both died of burns and smoke inhalation after rescuing several of their fellow tenants when the apartment above theirs caught fire.

- the third thing is a list of public records. His father was originally from Hateno and an only child save for a half brother who died a few years later. His mother, from kakariko, had two much younger siblings. Sheik and Link.

- while there are some records of a custody battle Shiek and Link were separated in the system after the death of their mother. There is an obituary written by Twilights mother with a picture of her and her three children. There's no further information about Link or Sheik.

- Until one last little page slips out, A wedding announcement from 10 years ago. Announcing the joyful union of Malon Lon and Link Kokiri. He's seen this before.

- in fact, Twilight sees this exact newspaper clipping framed in his old boss's office. He visits at least twice a month. He even jokes with him the it was the only proof the guy could actually smile.

- The Lon Lon Family owns their aptly named Lon Lon ranch but he reports to Malon's husband directly when it came to the horses. Especially Epona. He just saw the man last week, for crying out loud!

- He has an uncle. And he's already known the man for 5 years now. They thought it was just a funny coincidence that they had the same name.

- Illia says its fate. Zelda assures him that this can't be an accident. Midna presses his cell phone into his hands. Rusl tells him that its his decision and that they'll respect whatever that may be.

- He calls first, of course. He only works at the ranch on weekends these days anyway. It would be weird to just show up to his shift and just go "hey, do you know im your nephew?"

- he asks if Mr Kokiri would like to talk some time under the guise of needing some advice. Under all the grump and sarcasm, Kokiri really is a saint and easily says yes, asking if Twilight is okay since he sounds stressed.

- the next day, Twilight stumbles into his boss's office with all the papers in his hands.

- "if you need advice about school, you've come to the wrong place, kid."

"No...uh sir this ain't about school. Yet. But uh...do you recognize this picture?"

- he sets down the obituary with its photo of his mother, grandmother, Sheik and Link somewhere in Karariko. Kokiri studies it but otherwise seems clueless. "No, sorry, I dont."

- "Well according to these papers," Twilight sets them on the desk and spreads them out so he can see. "This is my mom. And this is you. Her brother. I think...I think you're my uncle."

[soldrawss]

Something something 16yo 2k12 Mikey gets sucked into a portal and sent into the RISE universe and ends up helping raise the RISE kiddos AU

[xxplastic-cubexx]

personal happiness or what the fuck ever

bonus:

[lonesomenecromancer]

havent posted anything isat related in a while. have this

[pricetagged]

Idk how to label this. Wifehunter John?

The idea of possessive/obsessive John manipulating a situation and stealing a wife for himself struck me, so just coughing the idea up while I sneak away for a coffee before I actually have to start work in 20 mins 💖 entirely unedited, abrupt ending

Masterlist l Part Two

________

For someone married to his job, he has put quite a bit of thought into what he is looking for in a wife. Namely, that she's already married.

His reasoning is threefold. He can admit to himself, firstly, that it satisfies his need for control. Competency. He's a busy man with a demanding job. Not quite retired yet, no time to build his own from scratch. With this, he gets a wife boxed up and ready-trained. Broken in.

Secondly, the need for control bleeds into his saviour complex. She'll need a shoulder to cry on, someone strong and capable to get her back on her feet. She'll be feeling a little fragile. Needy. Perfect.

And thirdly, it does something wild to his jealous, possessive streak. The idea of taking something precious, of breaking her bond to another man and tying it to him? Delicious. The idea that she used to be someone else's, that he has to imprint himself onto her knowing that in doing so he is erasing the imprint of another man? It has his teeth aching, grinding even as heat rises in his belly. Stirs at him.

The idea swirls lazily in the back of his mind, never quite finding the right time or right partner. He bats at it a few times, lazy cat playing with the notion, seeing how far it can stretch before it snaps. Eyes up pretty things everywhere he goes, glancing down at their left hands just to check, but nothing quite tugs on that string. Until one day it does when he's outfitting the security system at your house.

It's side work. Cash in hand, word of mouth. Something to keep him busy when on mandated leave. Something to keep in mind as his retirement from active duty creeps closer. And your husband is a real piece of work, all blustering braggadocio energy. Young buck, not knowing his place in the herd. Not knowing that he'd be better scratching his antlers off on a tree than going head-to-head with a gristled thing like John.

It's like John's energy, his presence in the house, sends alarm bells ringing in your husband's mind (Be the man. Don't back down. Puff up your chest and strut). And it plays so perfectly into John's hands because your young buck doesn't realise that what he's really doing is fawning. To John. (Look at me, be impressed by me!) He makes his biggest mistake in putting you down in front of him, trying to sidle up to John and create some kind of desperate camaraderie. Ordering you to bring tea to the men at work. Rolling his eyes at your attempts to talk, to ask questions about the work being done. Waving you off so he can stand and watch the proceedings. Like he could supervise. Like he has any clue what he's doing.

Only the promise of the long game keeps John from levelling him with a hard look, from calling him outblike he'd love to.

He hears you both in the in the other room, having swatted the young buck off like a particularly virulent pest. Noisy and bothersome. Not needed - or wanted- in this home. And entirely too stupid to realise that John wasn't being jocular in his dismissal.

You've been scribbling away for the past few days, something occupying your time, keeping you happy and hidden away in the kitchen.

"You're not serious, are you?"

"Well, yes," he hears the slight quaver in your voice before you find your footing. You've got at least a bit of spine. Good. "You said that I should find an occupation. Not just 'laze around the house playing housewife'. This is what I-"

"Oh come on, I didn't mean- You don't think that this is viable, do you?"

"Well... I love gardening. And I'm good at it. And there's no reason that it can't be more accessible for people, especially with the current economic-"

He cuts you off with a scoff. "Dear, just- I don't want you to be disappointed. I think you don't quite understand the time and effort this will take. And you know nothing of marketing, publishing. Why don't you put that away and start on dinner?"

And oh, isn't that delicious. He can taste it now, that idea that has been swirling. It's thick, almost tangible on his tongue. The tension in the house, the bitter lacryma of stifled tears. The slight acidity of words you left unsaid. It has his mouth watering, pupils dilating.

And when he's packing up that evening, tools and materials tucked in to the heavy workman's case, he swings by the kitchen on his way out. Catches the way something is jutting out slightly from the bin, lid slightly askew. When he pulls it out he realises it's some kind of notebook, carefully (lovingly) bound. Pictures pasted, mindmaps and notes and plans scribbled in the margins. Your gardening tips. Kitchen scraps, window boxes, rooftop plots. Urban gardening. It's deeply thoughtful, well researched.

A labour of love, lying in the rubbish.

Sweet, clever little thing. That just won't do.

He leaves your house with a little piece of you tucked away in his toolkit and a nice plan forming. He'll be back, of course, not quite finished with his work. He'd planted a few little links into the system he'd almost installed, projecting not just to the monitor in your home but also in his. Got to keep his eyes on you, keep you safe and cared for in ways that your useless husband can't.

Finding that book was a boon. He'd say it was divinely ordained if he believed in all that. It weighs heavy in his toolbox as he whistles out the door.

Now, how to get you alone and return it to you..

________________

This idea may have been done before? I'm not sure, sorry! I've seen a lot of possessive John floating around. Tagging @stellewriites because I said I would last time, and you've been so encouraging of my nonsense.

Anyway I've got like 4 long-form WIPs that I'm working on, so I may never actually write this one but thought I'd share since that image set I just reblogged made me feral 💖

[nevvn]

Solomon bday countdown day 1: coffee

[caliartcat]

klavier you're gonna have to be more direct than that

[lucabyte]

I don't know how everyone isn't also always constantly thinking about how burial rites seem to be potentially one of the few things Siffrin instinctively remembers about their culture. But rest assured. I am in fact always thinking about it.

Textless version where they're just hanging out. It's fine!

[bluerosefox]

That Good Ol' Fenton Charm

Hmmmm

Single dad Danny (to deaged Ellie and Dan) meets his neighbor Selina Kyle after one of her cats get into their apartment and he finds his kids playing with it.

Cue meet cute where Selina at first is just flirting like always but Danny charms her (aka being a bit dense but somehow adorkable, its charming)

[baejax-the-great]

If I were a writer at a big game company working on a sequel to a beloved series and the higher ups kept telling me to make the game shittier and kept sending my work back to me to be dumbed down even further somehow, and then once most of the writing was done they laid me and my coworkers off illegally without severance, I'd probably gleefully watch as people trashed the shitty game that shipped.

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmmmm read a disciple shen yuan/shizun luo binghe fanfic about two days ago where the first chapter was the Immortal Conference arc, and SQQ was the one who had to be pushed into the abyss (he was still the villain) except Luo Binghe was refusing and was like, lowkey losing his mind about SQQ being so close to the edge. SQQ ended up having to be the one to fall in himself because of the system's punishment system. The rest of the fic is leading up to that moment. But like, MMM i've been obsessively thinking about that first chapter for DAYS ever since.

now i've been in svsss for a grand total of *checks watch* a week. but god obsessed with that. I want to write/read a fic where disciple SQQ goes a little nuts down there. Like keep all of the things that make SQQ, SQQ, but just. Throw in a little bit more trauma in there. A little bit of a mental break. Let him go a little nuts as a treat. Just a tad unhinged. I wanna see him go, just a little, "god fuck it, i've tried so hard to change this shitty story's outcome and it feels like everything i've done has been for nothing. I'm going to die in this world no matter what I do, I've been doomed from the start, so might as well die the way I want to." and he just, breaks a little! Under all the stress.

He still retains the traits that makes shen yuan, shen yuan, like his overwhelming kindness. But he's just! yk. A little less patient. Paranoid. Jumpy. Colder. A little more aloof and closed off. A little more Shen Jiu. He's no asshole child abuser, but he was a Number One Hater in his past life and he's leaning into that old habit a little more now.

(On a totally coincidental not-at-all related note, there's not enough SJ-and-SY-are-the-same-people fics out there that i've found. This is totally unrelated...)

The Endless Abyss turns the mind into an over-sharpened blade, and SQQ is both fascinated and perhaps a little excited to explore a place that doesn't have a lot of info on it in the mortal realm, but still terrified out of his mind. And he's no Luo Binghe, he doesn't have the sheer brute strength and power to just bulldoze his way through, so he has to be a lot more sneaky and cunning if he wants to survive.

The fic itself role-swapped LBH and SQQ so that SQQ was the half-demon (which lowkey fucks) and LBH the human, but I'm equally-if-not-more obsessed with the idea that LBH remains the half-heavenly demon and SQQ the human. If only because I keep thinking about SQQ befriending some demons (particularly and specifically a group of succubi) and they grow very attached to this Human Cultivator so through magic plot stuff they create some kind of seal/illusion/talisman that makes SQQ appear as a demon because a human cultivator in the endless abyss may as well be the equivalent of putting a giant neon target on your back.

And iirc Shen Jiu was taught demonic cultivation by that one guy(?? i've only been here a week so im not caught up in ALL of the lore yet) so that could totally happen here.

(On the other end of the realms, poor Shizun Luo Binghe is just. losing his fucking mind over losing his most precious and beloved disciple. About .5 seconds from burning down the peaks himself. somebody sedate him.)

The Endless Abyss sucks and SQQ is having a really terrible time and can feel himself going lowkey mad, but also holy shit look at all this WORLD-BUILDING. look at all this flora and fauna, and oh if he had the equipment for it he'd be writing all of this down. ALL OF IT. He was kinda-sorta-already planning on never leaving the Abyss as some sort of fucked up self-exile and self-preservation thing, but now he might? actually just?? never leave if he can help it, like he lowkey likes it down here.

anyways the next time anyone ever sees SQQ again he's got hair so long its almost touching the ground and he's either in rags and half-feral or he's been completely dolled up by his adoptive succubi sisters and still about three seconds from biting anyone who tries to touch him. (he's also lowkey trying to book it back down to the abyss even if he has desperately missed all of his friends and shizun)

[lineffability]

"Crowley."

Crowley froze, every atom of his body coming to a complete standstill. Aziraphale had appeared out of nowhere, just like that, and he felt like a fly in a spider's web, like he had just run against a glass door that he could not have seen. Oh, this was cruel. He did not turn around.

"Don't even use doors anymore?" He tried to keep his voice level, cold, unaffected. He failed considerably, but the message got across anyways.

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale said, immediately flinching at the words. The first time they were seeing each other again, after-- after that, and his first words were I'm sorry and he was apologizing for not using a door? Aziraphale felt like swearing, but could not. "I thought you wouldn't open if I-- well. I thought this was easier. Like a bandaid."

"Well, you were right. I wouldn't have." Steel was creeping into Crowley's voice, steel around his heart. With a forcing of limbs, he spun around, his gaze piercing through the armor of his sunglasses. Facing him.

"I need your help" Aziraphale said.

"What," Crowley said. He had possibly never put as much meaning into a single word. The glass door turned into a Great Wall. Aziraphale understood. But he was willing to climb.

The angel (oh, a true angel now, wasn't he--not his angel) fumbled, talking with his hands before his mouth even opened. Talking with his eyes, too, but they got lost in translation. Repelled by a black mirror.

"I know this is untoward. I know it's-- But Crowley, I don't have a lot of time."

"Nothing lasts forever, yeah," Crowley spat, hating himself the second the words left his lips. Unnecessary cruelty. Demonic, huh? Worse yet, Aziraphale accepted the verbal lashing. Don't forgive me, Crowley thought.

Crowley looked at him. He was still wearing his suit, there was tartan in it, but it had become polished, the worn edges returned to pristine, boring perfection. He looked prim. Proper. Perhaps this hurt most of all.

"Why are you here?"

Aziraphale glanced upwards. Then he looked intently at Crowley. I don't have much time. Right. He couldn't speak freely, Crowley realized. Of course he couldn't. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, what he had known would happen. His angel in chains. (Yet here he was. Here he was.)

"They don't know I'm here," Aziraphale mumbled, gesticulating weakly between them and Up. "I guess I can divert their attention now, for a bit. Comes with the new powers"--he shrugged helplessly--"but not for long. Crowley, do you know about-- about the-- what they're--"

"Armageddon 2.0? Sure."

There was an undecipherable look in Aziraphale's eyes. "Why didn't you-- well. It's not just. I mean it kind of is--it's. More than that. Crowley, I need you to do something for me."

"No."

"This is important." (This isn't about us.)

"I don't care." (There is no us anymore.)

"You do! You always have."

"Oh not this again," Crowley hissed. "You were an angel once. You can be forgiven. Shut up."

"That's not what I meant."

With two long, angry strides, Crowley closed the space between them. Menace, anger, hurt-- "Then what did you mean?" He spat the words. Like a weapon. (Then why was it a question?)

Aziraphale's face crumbled. He stood his ground nonetheless, not backing away. The angel's anger was less spiky, but it rose to meet Crowley's. It made his next words hit like bricks. "I mean that you love. I mean that you, Crowley, are the best person I know. I mean that I love you."

The words dropped like a lead balloon.

There was utter silence between them.

Why were they so close?

Why were his sunglasses so dark? Aziraphale saw only his own reflection. He couldn't bear that, and dropped his gaze. Oh, worse. There was his mouth, mere inches away.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley's lips, really really looked, and there was nothing more, now that he knew about the feeling of Crowley's lips and of his heart, there was nothing more he wanted to do than to kiss him. But he couldn't, he couldn't. Not like this. He needed the next time (he had to believe in a next time, in a time with Crowley, again)--the next time they kissed he needed it to be good and happy and an affirmation. He couldn't bear it otherwise. He would break entirely. He was sure of it.

But still, still-- Crowley was so close. He could smell nothing but him. Think of nothing but him. That weakness again, that soft spot inside him he had never known how to hold down. And with it, Want reared its greedy head. Aziraphal leaned in ever so slightly, felt their noses touch-- and then used all his strength to move away, to pull back. It was not the right time. Not yet.

He looked past Crowley, who might have as well turned to a pillar of salt. Crowley, whose face was a mask he couldn't let slip. The air flickered between them.

There were tears in his eyes when he finally forced his gaze towards Crowley's face, a silent plead to not misunderstand. Please, please. But he couldn't expect that of him. He was pulling away again. But not because he wanted to. No, there was nothing he wanted more than to pull closer. There was nothing more he wanted than to talk to him, to truly talk, to explain and apologize and make amends, but he was bound by Duty and Rules and Watching Eyes more than he ever had been.

This was his rebellion: he lifted a hand, the ghost of a touch, fingertips against cheekbone. The memory of holding on. Of never wanting to let go. Crowley flinched without moving, a shiver of his lips. Aziraphale let his hand drop, briefly, to Crowley's chest, holding it over his human heart. It was beating just like his.

This was his successful magic trick, when it counted: he drew away, leaving a crack in Crowley's steel-clad heart, and a note in his chest pocket.

"I'm sorry. I need to go."

"Of course you do."

"Oh, Crowley. I--" But he did not finish the sentence, knew there was no proper way how. So he said, quietly, softly, "Trust me, please."

And he did. Crowley hated it, hated it so much, but he did, he did trust him despite it all. But it did not erase the hurt. The festering wound. Now what was he supposed to do with that?

With one last pointed look, Aziraphale vanished.

Crowley was alone.

His defenses lay shattered at his feet, and he slowly gathered them back up. He did not mend the cracks. (That's where the light had gotten in.) He cleared his throat. Tried to banish from his mind the look in Aziraphale's eyes, the memory of his lips and of his tears.

And failed considerably.

I love you.

(Touched his cheek, and then his chest, and faltered.)

[this fic is now also on ao3 and being continued there]

[wingsofhcpe]

actually there's a huge difference between queerbaiting/"Hey guys look how gay these two are haha they're definitely gonna end up together, give us views uwu oh- never mind oops they're going to superhell" and "Hey it's 2004-2012 and there's no way we can get away with having our protags/main couple be two gay men but we really want to show these two are soulmates so we'll do it through subtext and underlying messages and by literally telling you over and over again their relationship is the most stable and important in the entire show, and the ending will imply they lived and died together", and it's insane that some of yall don't see how these two are not the same fucking thing.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Chat have we discussed drunk chess with cherik cause i just think. That would be the darnedest silliest thing they could do

[littleplantfreak]

Inmate Togame? Inmate Togame

So inmate Togame Jo who's well mannered to a point. He doesn't do much harm, and is always polite to you as a nurse to the prisoners. Sure he has a bad habit of calling you pet names, but that's the least offensive thing you've been called while working.

When he does get into fights, he waits patiently as you tend to the other people first, saying he's good with being the last one out. He likes to watch you work, thinking even if it's one sided that it's time well spent with you, and it's hard to mind those pretty green eyes being on you the whole time.

And when he has to take his shirt off to let you look at some bruised ribs, he can tell you're staring at more than just the bruises. He won't say anything, but when he leaves later he brushes his knuckles across your lower back to watch your reaction, pleased to see you arching from it.

Things go back and forth a weird push and pull of you both trying not to get too close but also soaking up the other's presence until he gets in a nasty fight. One that somehow lands him in solitary, though they've thrown him in there without bringing him to get checked up first, leaving you demanding the guards let you in. Against their concerns, you insist he'll be nothing but civil with you.

He's bloody and still heaving from the fight as he sits on the floor slumped over, but most of the blood actually isn't his, which is a relief you guess. When he kisses you as you get a closer look at his face, suddenly all bets are off and you're both starved for one another. Needless to say once the guards knock to check in, you request more time with the patient due to extent of injuries.

[deoidesign]

I spent months prepping books and running a Kickstarter, and it's going great! But...

I just got 300 books with the wrong type of cover. They're glossy!!!

There's nothing else wrong with them! I'll be getting the matte covered books that match the set soon, but in the meantime I have 300 extra glossy books.

SO!!!

If you would like a book, the glossy covered copies are going to be $15 instead of $25!!!

If you're okay with the book cover not matching the set, or you're interested in trying the series out, then this is the best place to start! Each book is self contained, so you won't be missing out by starting with the second book.

This is the fan favorite book from the series, so it's a great one to pick up.

Time and Time Again: Summer Camp Cowabummer Volunteering as counselors at a summer camp facing closure, Adam and Steve must manage their campers and the mysterious problems at the camp.

You can buy it here!