#i had a whole plot going on

[fridayenights]

I had the coolest dream (and slightly scary)

Man, I gotta tell you about this dream I had. I literally just woke up, so I have to write it down before I forget.

I'm not really sure where I was, but in my room there was this massive hole in the wall. Don't ask why I wasn't afraid of it, I guess I just had balls of steel. Anyway, I was with a friend and we were discussing this hole. He told me it was weird we had one in the wall and took out his phone and shone a light through it. I didn't personally see anything, but he claimed he saw a pair of eyes that were reflecting the light or whatever. I was obviously a little freaked out by this.

The dream then skips to my bestie and I chatting with the landlord -- I guess we were renting this place. He has handed us this bill that had both a landline and our regular phones. We both argued that we did, in fact, not have a landline. But he brushed us off and told us to pay the bill.

The dream skips again to me just standing by myself in the room with the hole. I have my back facing it and this fucked up looking creature comes crawling out of it. He got behind me and knocked my ass out. The best way I can kind of explain this thing is he had the same face as the mayor in A Nightmare Before Christmas.

That dude, but his limbs were waaaaay longer, and he was more... disheveled. I don't know how to explain him. Anyway, the dream skips again to me on the phone with my dad, and I'm explaining everything to him.

I told him about how there was a section of this massive house we didn't go to. We called it a super cool name, but I can't remember what it was. These next few parts are going to be a bit jumbled because I can't remember the entire dream (I'm starting to forget some details now ☹️).

But I was explaining to my dad about the phone bill we were paying and how we didn't own the landline. Then I looked down at the ground and the creature was curled up in a ball, dead. So, while my ass was knocked out, someone had come in and killed it. I didn't seem to know who, or maybe I woke up before I could spill the deets to my dad. Either way, homie was dead as fuck.

I then started to explain the forbidden zone of the house. My dad, being the only normal one in the dream it seems, asks why there's a whole section of the house that's closed off to the rest of the occupants. I shrug it off like it's no big deal and say I don't know, we just can't go in it. I think I also told him about this massive hole in the wall, but I can't remember.

Along the way, I started to formulate this idea of who this creature was and why there was a landline charge on my phone bill. However, it felt like I knew this part of the plot, not the person who I was playing -- it was like real life Sunni was given parts of the plot, but not dream Sunni. So, apparently, this creature was a corrupt judge and the forbidden part of the house was where he operated with a bunch of other people.

The landline was being used to do some sketchy shit and to hide their tracks, they had added it to my phone bill so I would pay for it, and I guess I wouldn't notice it? No idea the logic behind that decision. Anyway, something horrible happened and this corrupt judge was turned into this horrible creature. I had this feeling there were more creatures in the forbidden zone, and there was this massive secret that I was about to uncover. But I woke up before my dream self could uncover the entire plot.

But yeah, I'm sad I didn't get to solve the mystery of the landline phone or the origins of the fucked up judge dude. That dream was one of my cooler ones and I kinda want to make a story out of it. I dunno. Either way, that was a cool-ass dream and I wanted to share it here.

[sasswonfp]

WOOF. UHM HELLO! this one is a long one! Quite the scroll! It is actually only *half* of the larger comic. I'm not done coloring it yet - but I finished all the inking. (alt desc. provided!)

Please stay tuned for the rest! I'm like kind of deranged over this whole comic and have put possibly way too much thought into everything about it. PART 1 (here!) | PART 2 (DONE!)

[egophiliac]

have you been keeping up with gavv? because holy hell, i think the beginning arc has been one of the strongest beginnings we've had. so many goddamn emotional moments and crazy good fights

oh Gavv has been excellent so far, I've been enjoying it a lot! :> Shoma's an absolutely delightful protagonist, and the balance between "cute silly candy shenanigans" and "urban fantasy crime noir" is...working surprisingly well, actually?

although it does lead to the show basically having two modes:

[yukipri]

For curiosity's sake...

[m1d-45]

will you promise that i'll see you again?

summary: your people refuse reason, and their damage refuses to heal. when it seems as if the whole world has left you, your dutiful knight still remains by your side.

word count: 2.3k

-> warnings: implied suicidal ideation (reader + unnamed side character), reader's previous deaths are mentioned in somewhat graphic detail

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @yuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

“you’re one of the only things keeping me going, you know.”

dainslef turned to you in surprise, the even neutrality to your tone a sharp contrast to the rapid pace of his heart. he wasn’t a fool, he knew that the hunt had to be taking a heavy toll on you, but this…

this was more than he expected.

he knew he was one of a pitiful few who saw through celestia’s false puppet, who knew you for you and not their mirage. he knew that the entire world was hellbent on erasing you from existence, that you’d been forced through your own death countless times as teyvat pulled you apart and pushed you back together far from the scene of your would-be murder. he saw the golden scars across your skin, the dried remains of blood lining the wounds you hadn’t been able to patch yet. he’d been the one to wash them away, not minding the refuse soaking into his gloves if it meant your hands could be clean.

he recognized the dull exhaustion in your eyes, the same as the ones he saw in the reflections of lakes. tired, worn, barely there, hanging on by one solitary string that was wound so tightly around a desperate hand.

you had always been his reason for continuing. when the traveller broke down and the ruler of the abyss hid from the sun, you were there. when the chasm’s mud clung to his boots and the memories in his head burned as nails forced between his eyes, you were there. his rosary was kept tight to his chest at all times, familiar prayers pulling him up in the morning and forcing him to sleep at night. he was alive for far, far too long, but you made it bearable. you were his duty, his promise.

he never once thought that he’d be yours. then again, he never thought that he’d have to defend you from the ones you once called friends. time never did pass how he expected it to.

“…leading light?”

you looked down, twirling blades of grass around your fingers. he had led you up to a mostly desolate area of sumeru, west of bayda harbor. it close enough to the sea, forest, and desert that you could reasonably make an escape through any of those routes if need be, while also providing a rather pleasant view. the sky was bleeding red and gold as the sun sank below the horizon, a remarkable sight that fell on blind eyes. there was no use trying to enjoy nature’s beauty when he still kept one hand on his sword and both ears pricked for the slightest sign of danger.

you shouldn’t have to worry about your safety. you shouldn’t have to prioritize based on how likely you are to get hurt, or how easily it would be to make an escape. you still flinched when the wind blew a little too quick, used to it heralding armored footsteps and battle cries. in another life, you were welcomed with open arms, able to enjoy yourself without constantly being on high alert. teyvat did what it could to adapt; the air was still, frozen in time, barely a bird chirping for miles. it was meant to be comforting, he thinks, but dead silence was more unnerving than any breeze.

“i mean it.” he could hear every shift in his cloak around your shoulders, the heavy fabric doing little to soothe your stress. it was yours more than it was his now, to the point he felt claustrophobic wearing it. how long had he been traveling with you? the days blurred.

“i don’t doubt you.” he never would. never could. he’s not sure, even if he somehow wanted to, that his body would allow him to treat your words as anything less than fact. “but i don’t understand what you mean.”

you were a god. the creator, the first, the one that shaped the sovereigns scales and laid the foundations of earth. you predated the archons, celestia, the very skies themselves…

and he, somehow, was a driving motivation for you?

his words must have been funny, a sharp laugh tumbling out of your mouth. it was bitter, humorless, and somewhat raspy. he made note to find some water for you later. “what else could i mean?” you turn to him, some of his confusion lost as your eyes found his. even this burnt out, deep bags set beneath them, you still managed to steal the very air in his lungs. “you’re the only reason i’m still here.”

he didn’t know what to say. what was there to be said, when you were you and he was him? when the world had abandoned you, it made sense you’d cling to what remained faithful. it was merely coincidence he happened to find you first, that’s all. coincidence that you trusted enough not to run from, coincidence that you allowed to care for your injuries. there was nothing to say, because you held nothing for him in particular, only leaning on him out of need. he had to believe that. what was he left with if that wasn’t true? an awkward truth hid beneath his well-known lies, too large for him to see the edges, let alone to contain.

“please… do not say such things again.” to ask of his god what he could not ask of himself was surely some form of heresy, as was willingly laying aside his guard when he was the only one who was tasked with protecting you. he pulled his attention from the tide below, from the rustling trees, holding faith that the world would not be needlessly cruel. he stepped forward, kneeling beside you. even up close, you still seemed painfully small. “it is your own resilience that has allowed you to persevere.”

it’s the earth that leads you from danger.

it’s the water that follows you wherever you go.

it’s the leylines that whisk you to safety.

it’s the wind that warns you of what’s to come.

it’s the you from the past that protects the you in the present.

it’s the you in the present that provides for the you in the future.

it’s you, from everywhere and everywhen, continuing to fight.

and yet you sigh. you look away, across the sea, tracing fontaines skyline. “it really isn’t. i was lucky to run into you when i did.”

you had just crossed the wall back into the forest, burning hot and shaking. he was the lucky one, in truth, to be able to pick your figure out from the sand below. perched on a high cliffside, even mitachurls were reduced to small brown flecks.

you had worn a cryo mage’s cloak, which was what initially drew his attention. abyss activity wasn’t uncommon in the area, but a cryo mage in the desert�� that was cause for intrigue. he stepped forward and slid down the steep face in front of him, a slight puff of dust marking his landing in the desolate sand of old vanarana.

he didn’t know what to expect. you stumbled around the jagged remains of a tree, heading for the statue of the seven. he followed, only growing more confused. cryo and dendro did not react with each other, and there was no way to “slow” a statue. a scouting mission, maybe? but why a cryo mage, when pyro would have been far more advantageous in the case of an attack?

he leaned around the corner carefully, prepared for the sight of a staff or the chanting of abyssal magic filling the air. the entire world seemed to be holding its breath, frozen in place and waiting for some trigger to continue.

he saw none of that. you were collapsed at the foot of the statue, faint wheezing only making it to his ears by virtue of the standstill around him. you held no staff, commanded no magic, your chest barely moving with air.

he’d never seen a mage seek out the archons when dying. one hand squeezed the handle of his sword as he crept forward, ready to strike should the situation turn against him. the sand barely shifted beneath his feet, his own heart sounding too loud to his ears. you did not move, showing no signs that you had noticed his approach. he still didn’t trust it.

your cloak was tattered and torn, with thick gloves atypical of a mage. they reminded him more of hilichurl wraps, which was strange considering you wore no mask. your face was instead covered by what looked like eremite cloth, just as stained and dirtied as the rest of your clothes. what he could see looked almost human; in another life, he could believe you were a weary traveller, lost amidst the sand.

he was acting foolish. if the abyss had a human tool, he needed to figure out why. he reached down, undoing the sloppy knot of your veil and letting the brocade fall limply to the grass.

…grass. he blinked, eyes flickering between the ground and your face, not sure which was harder to believe. flowers had bloomed around you, protecting your body from the blazing sands, and he’d be a fool not to recognize the face plastered all over every bounty board.

he didn’t understand. if nothing else, he thought the archons would have enough respect for their creator to know when they were being lied to, yet before him was barely living proof of the inverse. sweat beaded along every inch of exposed skin, deep-set heat exhaustion burning you from the inside out. how could you be a threat? how could they be so blind?

he looked again, the shine of elemental sight straining his eyes, catching flickers of the dendro energy pouring from the statue. you were the only one the archons would feed. you were the only one to make the very earth break its own rules, allowing lotuses to bloom from barren soil. something painfully similar to rage threatened what remained of his rationality, and it took all he had to push it aside.

that didn’t matter. if he went off on some banal revenge quest, he’d be no better than them. your safety mattered more. he picked you up and set aside how calm his curse felt, beginning the trek back to his camp. behind him, the flowers already began to wither, losing their persistence without you to foster it.

perhaps that initial meeting was luck. but these was no luck involved in your trust in him. when you woke up and saw him at your side, you chose to trust him. you chose to believe that he was not like the others, that he would protect you, and he was forever grateful for that trust. nobody could fault you for being angry, for being spiteful about what you were put through and choosing to lash out. nobody would have the right to be upset if you chose to vent your wrath against those that had hurt you.

but you didn’t. you chose, again and again, to believe in the world. you chose to let them live their lives, even if it meant getting hurt again in the process. you chose a quiet life traveling with him over the comfortable life on your throne. to willingly choose to travel with a disgraced knight to spare your people guilt… he couldn’t decide if it was noble or reckless. either way, he was selfishly happy that he was the one to stay by your side.

“i won’t try to convince you. but, please.. do not give up on yourself so easily.” i know far too many who have died by the same hand. “the world and its opinion does not define you. only you get to decide where fate leads.”

you lean towards him, and he thinks you might have passed out- but no, your head lands on his shoulder with far too much precision. he stiffens, not used to existence without a constant pain beneath his skin. “how motivational. you tell all your soldiers that?”

his heart is beating too quickly, thoughts unusually hard to grasp. you’re the only one who could have this effect on him. he only wished it wasn’t now, when your belief in yourself was on the edge. “i mean it. none of this is your fault, and neither are celestial actions the people’s fault. i know that you are hurt, but i don’t want you to accept that main needlessly. you shouldn’t have to view your creation with such pain.” slowly, carefully, he raises the hand closer to you, doing his best not to disturb you as he settles it on your arm. he’s can only hope that the contact brings you as much comfort as it does him. “if nothing else, believe me. promise you’ll at least try.”

he doesn’t think you’ll agree. why would you make a promise to one who represents the heaven’s betrayal? why would you let him hold you close at all, when you can surely sense the bindings of those who tried to kill you wrapped tightly around his soul? he doesn’t know. all he can do is hope.

“…alright, dainslef. i promise.”

twilight has long since fallen, and yet he smiles for the first time in centuries.

[keferon]

May I ask what were the best transformers media you ever saw/read?

Well Transformers Prime, Transformers 1986 and IDW comics are having the first place that’s for sure

And then the second place is kind of shared by Fall of Cybertron, Exodus, Prime wars trilogy, Robots in disguise(2001) and Transformers One.

The third place goes to G1, Animated, Earthspark, Armada, War for Cybertron Netflix series, Aligned Robots in disguise, Bumblebee, Rise of the Beasts and Cyberverse because I only liked some little parts of them.

And then I also saw some of the Bay movies, Victory and Headmasters and didn’t like them at all.

Separate first place for J-Decker. It is not exactly Transformers but it is a show about giant robots and I loved it

[warmsol]

this diva

[thewingedwolf]

the arryn line has died out so many times they always have a backup line ready to be the next arryn, these bitches are just sooooo bad at living. everyone’s always picking on the starks for getting nearly wiped out but damn ned & cat really hunkered down and repopulated the hell out of the family tree, like the starklings aren’t doing that bad, meanwhile you just like, sneeze too hard in the direction of the eyrie and the whole arryn line is on the brink of extinction, but it’s okay, they follow strict osha guidelines in the vale and they have a protocol for this very common scenario

[incandescentflower]

Just going on record that Thame's pouty baby jealousy that leads to him trying to wipe all traces of Po's ex out of his apartment is officially my favorite kind of jealousy.

[phoenixcatch7]

It's always funny to me when in an lu fic the chain is offered bananas and don't accept them. Like, you're offering these high energy adventures free food?? Fruit they'll have never even heard of before??? A ridiculously expensive imported good at best?? AND it boosts your attack?

Not ONE of these idiots would ever turn down something new and interesting to eat at least once. They'd be all over those bananas and immediately get dubbed yiga and I'm honestly surprised no one has used it in a fic yet 🤭

[you-know-cchio]

i've played these games before

[arsenicflame]

steddyhands au where Stede & Izzy start fake dating to scam a load of money (either to secure Stede's inheritance, or just like a classic wedding gift scam or something) but they also still both kinda hate each other and are constantly bickering, and keep slipping up and raising suspicion & have to dig themselves a deeper and deeper lie to keep the ruse up

(meanwhile, Stede AND Izzy have independently started fucking Ed behind each others back. Ed thinks hes seeing a wonderful polyamorous couple who just arent interested in threesomes, meanwhile Izzy and Stede are desperately trying to keep the other from finding out theyre sleeping with someone else)

(yes they hate each other and arent even dating for real. yes they are sneaking Ed behind the others back like its a real affair. its stizzy)

[beefharlot]

Jayce has been codependent and willing to die with Viktor since s1 and rewatching Arcane has only proven this to me. Look at this

While Viktor is waffling about whether or not to disarm the bomb or let him and Jayce blow up, Jayce…stays right there. He doesn’t run to get distance or find cover, he stays right there. Yes, he breathed a sigh of relief when Viktor did disarm the bomb, he didn’t WANT to be blown up in that moment, but he was not letting Viktor potentially die alone. The foreshadowing for what would happen in s2….Jayce man what the fuck is wrong with you (affectionate)

[bookshelf-in-progress]

No matter how many times it happens, I'm always shocked by how reliably all my problems with any given story are solved by making it shorter. If I go into a story with the idea that it'll be long, that I should use as much detail as I want to craft a full-length and fully-fleshed-out story instead of a short one, it always turns into this rambling, meandering, soulless thing that's no fun to read, and I get tangled up in so many flimsy, sprawling layers of character and worldbuilding that the plot becomes unworkable.

The minute I tell myself, "Let's make this as short as possible," the problems fall away, I find the heart of the story again, the pacing is brisk, scenes get multiple purposes, the world feels deeper because I'm implying things that spark the reader's imagination rather than trying to put every threadbare, boring detail on the page. Every time. You'd think I'd have learned by now.

[overtake]

A random scene from my Maxiel hockey au just because

“Why the fuck does this team give us perfectly identical sweatshirts? How am I ever meant to find mine?” Daniel asks, pawing through the clothes piled precariously on one of the barstools.

“It’ll probably be the one with your number on it,” Max says drily. “And teams tend to have matching clothing.”

Daniel looks up from his careful searching and tosses Max the finger. “Just for that, I’m wearing yours.”

Max’s hoodie is technically the same size as Daniel’s because Daniel prefers to size up, but it’s stretched out around the shoulders in a way Daniel’s isn’t. There’s a small stain by the left cuff whereas Daniel keeps his pristine. Most notably, there’s a 33 over the left chest instead of a single digit. It feels more lived-in and comfortable than Daniel’s, even though Daniel probably wears his jumpers twice as often as Max does.

He pops his head of the neckline and adjusts the strings. “Alright. I’m set. Let’s go.”

Max is paused with his keys in hand, mouth slightly parted and eyes burning holes into the number screenprinted on the fabric.

“You can’t get mad. I told you I was taking it,” Daniel says, even though Max doesn’t seem upset. Daniel can’t quite identify the expression crossing his face, but it’s definitely not annoyance.

“Don’t spill anything on it,” Max finally says.

Daniel catches up to him at the door and sticks the stained arm in Max’s face. “Don’t worry. You took care of that first.”

Max shoves his arm away, rolling his eyes playfully. “I’m not driving you anymore. You can hobble to the rink.”

Daniel switches positions to wrap his upper body around Max’s broad back, clasp his hands around Max’s neck, and jerk one leg up as if he’s about to jump for a piggy-back ride. Max elbows him off, giggling and pink-cheeked.

“Fine, I suppose I can give you a ride, but I’m not buying your tea,” Max warns. He undercuts his threatening words by instinctively holding Daniel’s hip, pale fingers pressed into plush fabric and waiting in case Daniel’s ankle gives out. Daniel has been successfully walking with no problems for a full week now, but Max is always hovering and holding.

“But I’m cold,” Daniel pouts, dramatically sticking out his lower lip. He’s just being annoying, but a gust of chilly air actually hits as he says it. Daniel shivers, pulling the jumper tight over his hands and moving closer to Max to try and leech some of his body heat. “I need this. Respect those of us from hot countries who played in hot states for ages.”

Max laughs, slinging an arm around Daniel’s back and tugging him into a mocking hug. “Poor Daniel. You only have to play in the NHL for the most iconic team in the craziest hockey city. Your life is very hard because it’s sometimes below zero and I don’t buy you tea.”

Daniel pulls his hands upward and dramatically rubs them together, then huddles into Max and presses his clasped hands between their chests. He doesn’t care if the hug is teasing. He’s genuinely fucking cold.

“You’re not allowed to be mean to me. I’m still injured.” He pokes out his healed ankle and lightly kicks Max’s leg with it. Max is in shorts, exposing fuzzy, muscled calves to Canadian January because he’s batshit insane.

“I’m hugging you,” Max says, rubbing his free hand up and down Daniel’s back. “I am very nice.”

Daniel presses his face into Max’s shoulder, just for a second. “Yeah. You’re not too bad, I guess.”

Shortly into their drive, Max detours, parallel parks, and comes back with a massive tea and crinkly brown bag.

“Their tea is shit and the donut is vegan,” Max says. His furrowed brow is aiming for admonishing, but the tugged edges of his mouth and dramatic tone give him away. “That’s your punishment.”

He still accepts the torn pieces of donut Daniel presses to his pink mouth and licks off the crumbs that decorate the sweet freckle on his upper lip.

“Wait. You have —” Daniel covers his thumb with the blue fabric of Max’s sweater and wipes one last sprinkle away as Max pulls into a parking space.

Max catches Daniel’s wrist before he can pull it back to his own body. He stares Daniel down with big eyes and long lashes and plucks the sprinkle where it’s caught on the ribbed cuffs. Max places one hand on Daniel’s chin and pulls down his lower lip, then places the sprinkle into Daniel’s salivating mouth.

“Don’t waste food.”

Max’s hands linger for one heated second before he drops them to turn off the ignition. Daniel tries to calm the thud of his straining heart, breathing in then out in an attempt to regain some normalcy.

He takes long enough that Max knocks on his passenger-side window, peering in and making little glasses over his eyes and waving all goofy, like nothing had just happened.

He eventually pulls open Daniel’s car door for him, gesturing out to the grey pavement. “Are you planning on showing up to practice today?” he teases.

Daniel recovers enough to slide out, though not gracefully, and heads into the rink to get chirped into oblivion over the 33 that feels throbbing and alive over his still-racing heart.

[lqfiles]

50 chapters in and nothing changed STOP DRAGGING IT

oh okay. my bad.