#i might rewrite this in the future

[idrawfunkythings]

DCAtober Day 18: Phobia

Words 1,600+ Summary: Moon admits some feelings and you chase him home

Spring was both of your boys’ favourite season. Sun loved how deep nights stretched into long days, and Moon liked how all kinds of new animals would be finding refuge wherever you went. You liked the walks - on warm spring nights, you and Sun would have a nice wander around the city, and you’d come home with Moon in tow.

You were having one of those nights now. It was a Sunday. Tomorrow you’d resume your job search. The stash Fazbear had given as hush money was more than enough, but you still needed a steady income. But for now, it was you and Moon, and the just risen rock that he was named after shining in the sky.

Moon’s steps are long and graceful. You, on the other hand, are trailing behind slightly, watching as his head swivels from side to side. He spends your walks together coolly inspecting the surroundings. When Sun goes out, most of the way home is spent in silence, unless Moon decides he’s in a feral mood and wants to chase you.

You’re less than fifteen minutes away from home, at the point in your journey where you cut through a park to avoid construction on the sidewalk. Moon’s hypothetical ears perk up when he hears laughter coming from a swingset, eyes trailing over to where a group of young kids are playing together while their parents sit nearby.

He slows, falling back to where you are, and you give him a funny look that he avoids. “What’s wrong?” Despite his clear anxiety, his optics remain fixed on the group. “Moon?”

“Let’s take the longer way,” he stutters out, clasping your hand and backpedaling to the park gate. “Sun wants to see if the bluebird eggs have hatched.”

“Whoa, whoa, what?” You dig your heels in the grass, which realistically would not stop Moon at all (his freakish strength and everything), but seems to work enough to get him to stop. “Those eggs hatched a week ago, remember? Sun cried because one of the hatchlings almost fell out.”

“There’s another nest,” Moon says determinedly. He still hasn’t looked away from the kids.

“No there isn’t. Sun’s on that birdwatching Facebook page! He would have told me if there was a new nest.”

“Just popped up.” Moon tugs your arm. “Come on.”

You follow his gaze, to where the kids have stopped their swinging and are looking at him with wide eyes. One of them seems to have recognised him, a boy with a white eyepatch on his right eye, and waves excitedly. Moon waves back half heartedly.

“Nest,” he repeats.

“Are you scared of them?”

His red pupils find you, piercing your soul. “Scared?”

You couldn’t believe you hadn’t realised it earlier, honestly. This was the first time Moon had been near a group of children since the daycare. Sun had, of course, when you went to the grocer’s or out for early walks, but by the time Moon came out most kids were snuggled in bed.

The problem was you didn’t know how to approach this without him biting your head off. “Not scared,” you amend hastily, acutely aware of the way Moon’s smile has tightened. “Just… overly cautious.”

“Our whole job is with kids,” Moon spits, and you totally don’t note the use of ‘is’ rather than ‘was’.

“I know… but it’s the first time you’ve seen them since… um…”

Moon’s face tilts, and his eyes narrow, meaning he’s either about to chase you until you can’t breathe or Sun is trying to calm him down. “Not scared,” he says eventually.

“Okay. But is there… apprehension?”

More words from Sun. Moon pauses.

“…don’t want to hurt them.”

Okay! This was progress! Moon was being more vulnerable with you. If you weren’t currently standing in front of him, you’d be pumping your fist in the air in excitement. You compose yourself and pretend you’re not totally surprised he didn’t just pick you up and walk the longer path anyway. “Why would you hurt them? We wiped the glitch.”

Moon’s hands tremble, and his bells rattle as they shake. “Could be in a file.”

This had clearly been affecting him more than you knew. You wonder if Sun feels the same. You’d ask him tomorrow, when he was cornered and had to be honest or get hit with a pillow. “Leo checked your files.”

Moon finally looks away from the kids, staring in the direct opposite direction. “Humans make errors. Too many errors.”

“Well… yeah, we do,” you relent, slipping your hand into one of his to still his shaking. “I can’t promise what he did will be 100 percent perfect.”

A quick glance at Moon’s face tells you Sun is definitely staring at you in horror through their headspace. You’d deal with him later.

You jump back quickly before they can start an argument. “But I trust him, and I know you do too. I mean, hey, he’s one of the only people Sun allows to open you guys up.”

Moon’s listening, mostly because he doesn’t have a choice. But he’s not running away, so you count that as a win.

“Moon.” You squeeze his hand. “Before we even got rid of the virus, we had pretty much worked through all the triggers and reactions it caused. You trust me, right? I trust you and Sun with my life.”

“…your judgement isn’t worth much.”

“Okay, rude.” You’d elbow him if it wouldn’t just result in you getting a bruise. “Sun thinks my judgement is impeccable.”

“No, he does not.”

“He’s also rude!” You say, jabbing a hand at Moon’s chest. He chuckles quietly, so, hell yes, this was working. You adopt a softer tone. “Moon, buddy. I wouldn’t tell you to go over if I thought you would hurt them.”

Moon looks at you in a pained way, which you realise is because you’re doing exactly what he used to do when a kid was scared at the daycare.

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” You gently tug him back in the direction of the playground. “Please?”

You can tell just by looking at him that both of them absolutely do not want to go near the swings at any cost. Moon seems ready to bolt, like a scared cat that is waiting for the right moment to zoom away.

“You can do it.”

He looks down at you and his fingers lock up, almost crushing your fingers. His feet are still firmly planted on the floor. There is not intention of moving.

“Is Freddy scared when he goes on stage?”

If Moon wasn’t about to short circuit, he would have groaned. “What.”

You repeat yourself. “Is Freddy scared when he goes on stage?”

It’s stupid. It’s so, so stupid, but it’s the only thing you can think of. It’s what they used to say to the kids when they were scared to make new friends, or show their art, or do anything they clammed up just thinking about.

You nudge him.

“…yes.”

“But what does he do?”

“He goes on stage.”

“And why does he do that?”

“Do we look like children.”

“And why does he do that?”

Moon looks very much like he’s not scared anymore, he just wants to kill you. “Because he is brave.”

“Let’s be brave together.” You take a step forward. He’s not gonna follow. You know he’s not going to. This was all just a waste of-

Moon follows you.

You hide your joy and take slow steps past the swings, where the kids have returned to their talk. When they catch sight of Moon again, and how close he suddenly is, the one who recognised him earlier jumps up and comes sprinting over. His parents eye him warily, but calm at the sight of the daycare attendant. His reputation precedes him.

“Mr Moon!” the kid shouts in excitement. “What are you doing here?”

Moon is still trembling. You squeeze his hand yet again, and give him a smile. He straightens up.

They really must have been amazing performers.

“Hello, Hudson,” he coos, bending down to be on his level. “I’m here with my friend. Do you remember them?” You wave at the kid, and he waves back. “Are those your friends?”

“Yeah!” Hudson nods excitedly. “We go to school together.”

“You must be having a lot of fun.”

Hudson nods even more enthusiastically than before. “It’s so much fun! I’m learning how to read.”

“That sounds very hard.” Moon gives him a high five. “Well done, star.”

Hudson looks over to his friends. “I gotta go play, bye!” He runs off without saying anything else. Classic kid.

You don’t say anything as Moon stands back up, nor when you walk out of the park and cross the road. When you reach the bike path, where blackberry bushes are covering the sides, you beam at him.

“I’m proud of you.”

Moon looks away. “We miss the kids.”

You blink. “You do?”

Moon nods. “We miss all of them.” he stares at the path ahead of you. “That doesn’t go away.”

Maybe once upon a time, you would have been skeptical if that was him speaking, or if his coding was mandating the response. However now, you knew his words were all his. Fazbear couldn’t control them anymore.

“Maybe we should go past the park more,” you suggest. “Say hi.”

Moon chuckles lowly. “Sun says you sound like a creep.”

You smack his faceplate. “Shut it, Sunburn!”

Moon laughs and dodges your second attack, and despite your best attempts, evades you the whole way home. Later, when you’re getting ready for bed, he pulls his hat over your eyes and cackles as you stumble after him, trying to chuck it at his head.

[audisive]

♪ WEST COAST. (💌) – next part

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: soap accidentally finds out about simon's girl.

tags: fluff, romance, simon is a big baby !! let us all accept this fact, soap and his assumptions, uh bad jokes, very rushed fic, crack ?, reader can indeed fix simon

Soap isn't sure when his assumptions started, nor is he sure how it got to Gaz and Price himself. 

Maybe it was when he started to notice that Ghost left base whenever he could. (How come ye never leave base? It's a hassle havin' to go back and forth for nothin', Johnny.) Maybe it was the smudged color of red and pink on his balaclava, the lingering perfume on his hoodie, or his new wallet taking the place of one that was once worn out.

"Wha's yer favorite perfume, LT?" "My enemies' sweat and tears."

(It's well-known that despite the fact that Ghost does consider the 141 to be his family, he keeps his personal life very private and away from them. They respect that, in turn, but let's face it, Soap is nosy.)

Really, it was an accident. Soap swears it was!

He just happened to be passing by his lieutenant in the bar where the team had all gone to celebrate a wreck of a mission that they've managed to successfully finish. Truly, it was an accident when his eyes caught a glimpse of Ghost's new wallet, and he really, very much so did not mean to watch a little too long – long enough for it to open and reveal a hefty amount of cash and a small square of colors, barely noticeable. 

Soap's feet move before he could quietly search for more.

"Got a new wallet, aye?" He slides beside the taller man smoothly, just as the Brit had grunted out another order of Bourbon. Ghost hums in acknowledgement.

"Y'got a crush on me or somethin', Johnny?"

Soap chuckles even if the other does not. "A just happened tae see it. Fancy little thing."

It doesn't take long before Ghost disappears into the night, but the Scot swears his pace was a bit faster than usual when he left the awfully-smelling bar, and Gaz would be lying if he said he didn't see the little picture of a pretty bird tucked away in his scarily huge lieutenant's wallet.

It's not that Soap often makes bold assumptions about people and their personal lives, not when they're out of reach from him, but can you really blame him for thinking that the words 'Ghost' and 'girlfriend' do not sound right in the same sentence? Would it be considered an assumption this time if he'd seen the photo himself? Surely, his superior isn't some perverted freak who keeps an image of a breathtaking woman he randomly found in his private items. Uh, he hopes not, at least.

"Bullshit!" is what a drunken Soap yells when the Brit nonchalantly discloses to the team, without hesitation, that he is simply not interested in dating. He spills everything he's gathered in the past few months, from the smallest hints to the biggest; the unfamiliar strand of hair on Ghost's hoodie to the wallet from months ago.

"A'm no crazy!" Soap convinces no one as he's ushered back to the barracks for making such an insane assumption about the lieutenant in his unreliable state. Ghost's lips curl up into a smirk against the cold glass of Bourbon in his hand, sat back and relaxed with his legs spread wide.

Call him a big baby (he is) for making a fool out of his sergeant instead of just telling the truth and bragging about his angel to the others, but can you blame him? He just wants to keep you tucked away in his pocket, away from everyone else. What are you talking about, lovie? 'Course 'm not ashamed of you. You're just too pretty for them, is all. Gotta keep m' girl safe, yeah?

Besides, they don't have to know the way Simon melts into the nook of your neck when he gets home from deployment or know that he uses your lavender-scented shampoo. And no, it doesn't matter that Johnny knows. It's his word against the lieutenant's. He spares his LT and turns a blind eye this once.

When the time is right, Simon is sure to properly introduce his heart to his unspoken family. For the time being, he just wants to keep you his pretty little secret.

    divider by @cafekitsune !

[ganondoodle]

(totk rewritten)

finally, all the arm and spirit abilities- for the first half of the game (rauru) and for the second half with the shiekah arm replacing links arms instead and the spirit abilities gained through ganondorf

(please excuse my handwriting and sometimes repeated info on the first two, i lost motivation/patience at the end and couldnt get myself to basically redo it all from scratch just to make it a bit more cleaner)

note, the camera rune is unconnected to the arm, its the shiekah stone copy link has (zelda carries the one from botw, a copy was attempted to be made for link but it lacks all runes except the camera, the map and its teleportation, and journal/archive)

note for the heal effects of some spirit abilities- im also reworking the healing system, making it more like the older games, so healing isnt as easy and much more restricted, thus making those effects of spirit abilities more valuable ( lil potion icon on the d pad will act a little bit like in skyward sword, opens your limited selection of healing items and if chosen link switches to holding it and letting you consume it with -a- while walking around in real time- to avoid more pausing and mass healing on regular items while in menu)

additional note, the automatic recharging of the magic meter depending on the environment gives you a reliable but less abusable way of using abilities and allows for even more creative dungeon/challenge design by using it effectively- it works by absorbing magic from its surroundings, so if its an area with little magic it recharges slower, if its a very spiritual or healthy place it will recharge faster, it can be used to make things more challenging and also as subtle storytelling (example, theres a graveyard with the magic energy around being off the charts, even if there are no spirits to see, it could hint at the people buried not having died peacefully, no matter what their gravestone says...)

the usage of magic and how much the different abilities cost also allows for a much more dynamic fighting style for players to choose and try out, balancing them all out with their cost instead of a fixed timer, and the recharging beign affected by the environment perhaps forcing players that favor high cost magic abilities to use the lower cost ones for example, or not being able to charge one up bc the enemy is too fast and doesnt give you enough time to charge it

about half of the small overworld dungeons (not shrines) are also locked/inaccessible for the first half and new quests appear as the second half commences- together with the additional changes raurus return brings with it (sonau buildings, enemies being mostly cosntructs that he summoned etc) and whole set of new abilities giving you a fresh new way to play while (hopefully) not making you feel too restricted for the first half

... making these detailed concepts took me longer than id like to admit q-q

[mxltifxnd0m]

sick days ◎ s. winchester

summary: after multiple back-to-back hunts, the stress and fatigue gets to sam

pairings: established sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x gn! reader

word count: 3K

warnings: none really, no use of 'y/n', fluff, taking care of sick! sam, barely edited lol

a/n: my last sam fic before i go back to college and get swamped with my course load. writing will slow down and be posted sparingly but i still plan to post if i have time!

as always, like, reblog, and comment on the fic! i always like hearing constructive criticism and love feedback <33 (also my last fic kinda flopped so give it some love please!)

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

It was rare for the boys to get sick. Surprisingly, they had very strong immune systems, and considering how well Sam ate, he would be the last person in the bunker to get sick. 

But you guys have been running yourselves ragged with hunting, having gone on them back to back for the past month and a half. It was exhausting, and when you guys made it back to the bunker, you all but collapsed in your shared bed with Sam, not even bothering to get under the covers. 

When you got up the next day, you felt significantly better, but exhaustion still riddled your body. You glanced at the clock on your nightstand. It was nearing noon. It didn’t surprise you that you slept that long; the three of you got back to the bunker well into the late morning. You began to get up from next to the sleeping giant next to you, but you were immediately pulled back by a strong arm wrapping around your lower stomach. You let yourself be dragged back into Sam’s body and let his warmth cocoon you. 

You feel his jean-covered leg intertwine with yours as your chest hits his back, and Sam leaves a sleepy kiss to your pulse point as he nuzzled you, the scruff on his face from not being able to shave for the past two days scratched softly against your neck, making fond smile stretch on your lips. 

“What time is it?” You heard the rasp of Sam’s tired voice whisper in your ear. 

“Almost noon.” You told him as you traced shapes on his bare arm before interlacing his fingers through yours, your interlocked hands resting on your abdomen. 

Sam let out a soft groan before nuzzling your neck further, making a soft laugh escape you. You reached your free hand to thread through his silky locks and ruffled his hair a bit. 

“We should probably get up now.” 

Sam mumbled something into your neck, but you couldn’t understand a single word he said. 

You huffed an amused laugh through your nose. “Mind speaking up for the rest of the class? 

His head raised slightly from your neck. “Don’t want to.” Sam grumbled out before his head fell back to his previous spot. 

You smiled at Sam’s childlike nature. He could get grumpy when he crashes from a long hunt and doesn’t go on his morning runs. 

“We should. We’re still in our clothes from last night.” Your nose wrinkled at the thought. 

You weren’t a stranger to sleeping in your jeans or your hunting clothes. 

Before even meeting the Winchesters and moving into the bunker when you started to date Sam, you had collapsed into a motel bed (or a hundred) with your jeans on. But considering you were used to having somewhere you considered home now, you more often than not slept in your pajamas, even if you were dead tired from a hunt. 

Sam grunted and tightened his hold on you, shaking his head in your neck. You could only imagine what you and Sam looked like right now—having a 6’4 man completely wrapped around you. You mentally shook your head and managed to pry yourself out of his arms. 

Sam let out a whine of protest as you left the bed but decided that he wasn’t going to get out of bed anytime soon, so he rolled over to his stomach and went back to sleep. 

You saw his breathing even out, and you shook your head. There was a soft smile on your face as you rounded the bed to his side to kiss Sam on the forehead. He unconsciously smiled at the contact. You left his side to grab a change of pajamas from the dresser. You decided a shower was in order before you decided to cook up some lunch for everyone. 

You doubted that Dean was even awake at the moment, but to check, you peeked your head into his room to find your suspicions to be correct. Dean was sprawled out on his bed, but it seemed that he was able to strip down to his boxers and a t-shirt. You closed his door quietly and shuffled off to the shower room. 

Once you were freshly clean and refreshed, the shower having given you some energy, you padded into the empty kitchen and decided to whip up some food for you and the boys. You started the coffee maker and looked in the fridge to see it somewhat stocked, but you knew that you or Dean would have to make a supply run in the coming days. 

You settled on making sandwiches for you and the boys, and when the coffee was done, Dean stalked into the kitchen. It looked like he was moving on autopilot, moving towards the mugs and coffee pot, pouring himself a cup before plopping himself down at the table. Dean hadn’t bothered changing; all he did was shrug on his ‘dead guy’ robe and his hair sticking up in different directions, having been mussed up from sleeping. You placed his just-made sandwich in front of him, and he let out a grunt of thanks before diving into his lunch (breakfast). 

Soon enough, Sam stumbled into the kitchen. He also looked like he rolled out of bed, his flannel wrinkled, but he was able to tame his hair. Sam gave you a grateful smile as he sat at the table, and you placed a cup of coffee and his lunch in front of him. You grabbed your lunch and a water bottle from the fridge. You kissed Sam’s temple before settling next to him at the table, where the three of you ate in comfortable silence. 

A couple of days had passed since you came back from the last hunt, and you made the boys take at least a week off from hunting since you had been going on hunts consistently and deserved a break.  

You and Sam were relaxing in the library, Sam reading some lore book that he had yet to catalog, and you were reading a mystery/thriller book that you had been meaning to read for a while on your Kindle. The two of you were content in each other’s presence, but you noticed that Sam was clearing his throat more often today. 

Sam eventually let out a cough that made you look up at him. 

“Need some water hun?” You ask him with furrowed brows. 

Sam shook his head. “No, I’m fine.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You sure?”

Sam just nodded at you in response. Your eyes lingered on him for a moment before they flicked downward back to your Kindle. 

The day passed as it usually did, but the next morning was what you didn’t expect. For one, Sam was still in bed when you had woken up. You were confused because Sam was a stickler for his routine in the mornings. You glanced at the clock, the green letters reading 9:14 AM, which was a little later than you would usually get up, but you were still catching up on sleep. 

You decide to leave Sam in bed, figuring that he needs to do the same thing and go to the bathroom to do your morning routine. When you came back into the room to change, Sam was awake, resting on the headboard, but he was sniffling and looked pale. You quickly rushed over to him. 

“You doing alright there babe?” You asked as you made it to his side of the bed and sat next to him. You reached out to feel his forehead, but he leaned away from your touch. 

“Don’t, I’m going to get you sick.” Sam’s voice was raspy and tired. 

“I’ll be fine, I just wanna see if you’re running a fever.” 

Sam didn’t seem to like that idea but relented, leaning towards your hand. The back of your hand hit his forehead for a moment, pursing your lips as you felt his temperature before cupping his cheek, your thumb caressing the beauty mark near his eye. 

“You’re running a little warmer than usual, let me go see if we have a thermometer somewhere. Stay here.” You ordered him. 

Sam huffed but nodded as he sunk back into the bed. You smiled, pinching his cheek before releasing it. 

“Good boy.” You teased as you stood up. 

Sam rolled his eyes at you, a tired smile playing on his lips. 

You quickly made your way to the infirmary, hoping that the Men of Letters had a thermometer that wasn’t made of mercury, but you had an inkling that they didn’t. You passed Dean as you made your way to the infirmary, and he called out to you, seeing your hasty speed. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked when he noticed you were going in the direction of the infirmary. 

“Sam is sick and might be running a fever.” 

Dean’s eyebrows knit in confusion and slight concern, now walking with you, abandoning the direction he was already walking in. “You’re telling Mr. Health nut got sick? How?” 

“Not sure. But I have a feeling it’s because we had been running around on hunts and since we hadn’t been on one for a couple of days, the exhaustion and stress finally hit and this is how his body is reacting.” You explained to Dean your theory as to why Sam got sick, knowing how uncommon it was for them to get sick. 

“I’ll go out and grab some stuff for him. I have to do a supply run anyway.” Dean said as you two left the infirmary, nearly turning the place upside down, trying to find a thermometer that wasn’t made with mercury. You highly doubted that Sam wanted mercury poisoning, and that was the thing that took him out instead of a monster (again). 

You nodded. “I’ll text you a list.” 

Dean patted your shoulder before the two of you parted ways, you in the direction of your shared room with Sam and Dean in the direction of the garage. 

You made it back to your shared room to find Sam dozing off, sniffling, and clearing his throat. Sam’s tired eyes snapped to yours as you moved across the room to sit by his feet at the edge of the bed.  

“How are you feeling?” You asked him gently, letting your hand rest on his ankle. 

“Cold, and I can’t breathe out of my nose.” Sam’s voice was hoarse and sounded congested. 

You sent Sam a sympathetic smile. “Dean’s out getting you some stuff right now, he should be back in a bit.” You gave Sam’s ankle a reassuring squeeze. 

“Did you find a thermometer?” 

You huffed. “Yes, but they were made of mercury and broken. I don’t think you would have appreciated getting mercury poisoning on top of being sick.” 

Sam chuckled before it turned into a coughing fit. You cringed at the sound of his cough and stood up from your place on the bed. 

“I’ll get you some water and tissues.” 

You entertained Sam for about an hour before Dean came back. It looked like he bought the entire drugstore with the two bags full of medicine and other supplies that he thought you might’ve needed in the future. Well, at least the infirmary would be stocked with cough and flu medicine. 

You whipped a quick lunch for Sam that he could stomach before taking the meds. After Sam ate the small lunch you gave him, you made him take some Dayquil and placed a cold washcloth on his forehead. You were expecting for him to make a fuss about taking medicine, having heard the stories that Dean told you of Sam when he was sick when they were younger. 

You let Sam take a nap, knowing the only way that he would get better faster is if he just rested. You were planning on prepping Sam’s dinner while he slept, but as you walked into the kitchen, you found Dean at the stove cooking some veggies in a pot. 

“I was going to do that, you know?” You said as you walked over to Dean and looked at the ingredients for tomato soup scattered on the metal countertop. 

“Well, taking care of Sasquatch over there is a handful and figured you needed all the help you could get.” Dean looked at you with a shrug of his shoulder, but you could hear the undercurrent of fondness over the nonchalant tone that he had. 

“Mmhm. Okay, well do you need any help?” 

“You can start making the grilled cheeses’.” 

A couple of hours later, there was a plate filled with grilled cheese sandwiches (most of which were for Dean) and piping hot tomato soup that was enough for a small army. You tiptoed into the low-lit room of Sam’s bedroom, who was still asleep, with a tray filled with food, water, medicine, and a thermometer (a digital one). You placed the tray on the nightstand on the side Sam was lying on and sat down next to him. 

You looked down at the sleeping man in front and noticed how much younger he looked as he did. The crease in between his eyebrows was smoothed out, and stress wasn’t etched in his features as he breathed as evenly as he could with a congested nose. You shook your head in slight disbelief at how beautiful this man was even when he was sick. 

You took off the now warm towel on Sam’s forehead and gently brushed back the strands of hair that were dampened by the towel. Sam stirred at your ministrations as he groggily blinked the sleep from his eyes. 

“Hey sleepy head.” You said with a gentle smile. You were able to gauge his temperature as your hand brushed against his forehead for a moment before petting the long strands of his brunette locks. 

Sam cracked a smile and your hand fell from his hair as he pulled himself up and rested against the headboard.  He was still dressed in the white t-shirt and flannel pajama pants he went to sleep in. 

“How long was I out for?” Sam asked as he cleared his throat slightly.

You gave him the water bottle from earlier. “Give or take a few hours.” 

Sam took a sip of water, glancing at the alarm clock before capping his water bottle and nodding. He stretched his neck out with a slight groan before his head hit his headboard with a small thump.

“Still tired?” You watched him carefully. 

“Yeah, and I feel like I was tossed around by a demon,” Sam said as he absent-mindedly cracked his knuckles. 

You let out a small chuckle.” I mean, you did about a month ago.” You joked. 

Sam shot you a glare, but it had no heat behind it as he was still looking at you through tired eyes. “Haha, very funny.” He said dryly. 

You sent him a smirk. “Thank you, I’ll be here all night.” 

“Unfortunately.” 

You pointed a stern finger at him. “Hey, you should be nicer to the person who’s taking care of your sick ass or I’ll make sure you get mercury poisoning.”

Sam rolled his eyes at your empty threat. “I could take care of myself.” 

You raised an unconvinced eyebrow at him, your mind immediately flicking back to all of the times you had to pry him away from researching in the library to sleep. 

You hummed unconvincingly. “Sure you could big boy.” You quipped before reaching for the tray on the nightstand and placed it above his lap. The tray had legs, so it didn’t have to rest precariously on his lap. 

“Enjoy dinner, Dean and I made it.” You smiled at him before petting his head. 

Sam looked down at the tomato soup and grilled cheese before him. He couldn’t really smell it, but it looked delicious, and he felt his stomach rumble with hunger. 

“Thank you.” Sam’s tone filled with sincerity. 

“S’no problem love.” You winked at him before getting up from the bed. 

You pointed down at the medicine and the thermometer. “I’ll take your temp after you eat, then you’ll shower, and then take your meds.” You instructed Sam as he began to slurp at the soup. 

Sam nodded obediently. “Have you eaten yet?”   

“Not yet.” 

“Can you eat here with me?” 

You smiled at Sam. “Yeah, let me grab my food.” 

After you and Sam ate, you took his temperature, which was only at 100 degrees. You managed to get Sam out of bed and into the shower room, where you helped him wash off. He was practically putty in your hands as you washed his hair with the lukewarm water of the shower (he complained of wanting a hot shower, but you knew better than having him shower in hot or cold water when he had a fever). 

Once he was clean, he all but stumbled back into the room and collapsed in the bed. Sam was about to fall asleep, but you made him take some medicine before he got under the covers and got swept under by the drug-induced sleep. 

You were about to leave Sam’s side to sleep in your old room before you moved into Sam’s room when you felt a tug at your shirt, seeing Sam’s sleepy pout on his face. 

“Yes, Sam?” 

“Stay.” 

“Thought you didn’t want me to get sick.” You teased softly, grabbing his hand from your shirt. 

That was a bad idea because he grabbed you with strength that you didn’t expect from a drowsy Sam and pulled you into him on the bed, a yelp escaping your mouth. His arms immediately wrapped around your waist and nuzzled into your neck. 

“Don’t care, need you.” He mumbled into your neck, his breath hitting your collarbone as you were chest to chest. 

You huffed a small laugh through your nose, threading your hands through his long hair, uncaring of the consequences. “You won’t be saying that when I get sick and blame you for it.” 

Sam didn’t respond to you, his breathing evening out before you even said your last word. You shook your head, a knowing smile on your face before you eventually fell asleep yourself. 

A week later, Sam took on the caretaker role, and you guys weren’t able to go on a hunt for another two weeks until you felt better. 

[pyrepostings]

Conditioned whumpee, whose caretaker is trying to convince xem it's ok to take off the collar now that whumper's gone.

Whumpee decides, in xeir head, that xey could explain to whumper if xey are recaptured that xey downgraded xeir collar because whumper wasn't there to give orders. See, xey still wore a collar, it's just made out of leather instead of gold. See, xey didn't think for a moment xey could be free.

And this way, Caretaker can be satisfied about aer "progress" in the meantime.

[doodle17]

Grown up Bobby and Chloe

He's on his 15th "Damn that's crazy"

Theyre outfits were soooo fun to draw yall I'm obsessed

[justskulkingaround]

I think I like how the hands turned out cuz of how expressive they look I think

I can always use more practice with poses and motion :))

[everythingsinred]

rest in pieces to this zombie au fic thats been abandoned in my drafts for almost a decade... we coulda made history together, u and i....

[mangysah]

I will say this. I absolutely despise how there’s barely an inbetween when it comes to the characterization of the Diamonds post canon. It’s like people either want them to be dear loving aunt figures who did no wrong ever (they literally abused Pink and were essentially otherworldly tyrannic dictators but okay sure ignore that 😐), or completely ignorant creatures who can’t form a single decent opinion and will hurt everyone at every turn on PURPOSE, forgetting any development they’ve ever made in favor of calling others lower lifeforms (like girl then what was the purpose of the last season and SU future then)

Listen I know they’re not perfect and far from that, especially with how the show tried to redeem White because it didn’t turn out as well as we hoped, but WHEN WILL YOU ALL UNDERSTAND THAT FLAWED CHARACTERS EXIST! It’s obvious that the Diamonds were more wrong than good, but with the context of the movie and SU future it’s obvious they’re trying to be better. Even if they haven’t figured everything out yet. You can’t just deny any of that and make them to be completely irredeemable or completely wonderful when the entire message of the show is anyone can change their mind.

[emmetverse]

Buddy did not like people in his workshop. He could tolerate Void simply because it was asleep and not, at least audibly, snoring. It was just laying there while he worked. He could deal with that for the same reason that he could deal with Brick having a special sleeping shelf. Quiet, out of his way, and comfortable-looking enough that he'd feel bad disturbing them.

And they were deep sleepers. Or they pretended to be. He didn't really care. He could hack away at this dumb stick for hours and it still hadn't stirred. This really was a dumb stick. Why had he chosen this stick? Why not any other of the sticks he had? Or even one of the planks, cut down into a stick-y shape?

Three gentle knocks, so soft they barely shook the door. Buddy paused in place and narrowed his eyes.

"Who is it?"

"Hi. Can I come in?"

"'Can I come in'," he mocked. "We all sound the dang same. Who is it?"

The man laughed softly. "I'd say we're noticably different. Besides, only me and Spark have this accent."

"Whatever. Get in here."

Snowball opened the door and quickly slipped in. He pulled it closed behind him until the little latch clicked back into place. Buddy rolled his head back to look at him.

"Ok, so?"

"I got a message from Liam that I thought I should ask you about."

"Liam?"

"Liam Copp? And Garrett?"

"I thought their names were Good and Bad."

He rolled his eyes lightheartedly and held out the phone.

Buddy huffed, dropping the file and turning around to look properly. And he froze. Because Snowball was holding out the phone, yes, but his arm was a bright white. Snow white, even. He didn't really notice his own pun.

He reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, twisting his arm about to look at it. It felt like a normal arm with lines and calloused palms but it was just... White, with an ever so slight iridescence to it. It wasn't glowing, but it didn't have shadow in the same way everything else did. It was just flat. 

"You didn't have this before," he muttered, pulling at one of the fingers and feeling the joint with his thumb.

"I was wearing gloves," Snowball chuckled. "It was, hm... I forget the words they used. 'Off To The Future-ing'?" He shrugged. "Spark stopped me from vanishing when changing the past stopped me from existing."

"... Huh."

Buddy slowly let go, taking the phone as he did so.

The younger man put his hands in his pockets, looking around at the things scattered throughout the workshop. He hummed softly as he spotted the hammock. More specifically, the figure inside of it. He stepped closer.

"... Is this them?" His voice was softer, more careful.

Buddy hummed. He took a screenshot of the message and texted it to himself. "Yeah."

"I didn't realise they'd be here."

"Y'know the earthquake?"

"Yes?"

"Panic attack."

"... I see."

Snowball pulled his hand out and reached over. Slowly, carefully, he reached towards the sleeping figure. He didn't touch it. He just let his hand hover over it.

It moved a little, its hand gripping on to the fabric of the hammock. It looked.. Unsettled.

He stepped away again with a small sigh, watching it fall still once more.

Buddy raised an eyebrow. "You good?"

Snowball just chuckled, turning back to him and gesturing down. "Any thoughts?"

"I dunno enough about magic, man." He held the phone back out. "What's the point? You'll forget anyway."

"I will," He answered. "But you won't."

Buddy rolled his eyes, turning back to the strange contraption he was working on. "Whatever. Just get out."

He hummed softly, fidgeting with the phone. "I have another question," He eventually admitted.

"What?"

Snowball hesitated, then tucked the phone away and retrieved a small object from his chest pocket. 

He held it up. "I have a friend. And I know nothing about machines."

The two were quiet for a moment. Then Buddy reached out to take it. A small drive of some kind - light grey with faded orange lines at the bottom, and a serial number that seemed like it had long worn away. He ran his fingers over the two indented lines. Then pulled at them, revealing a small connection port. It looked nothing like a USB, and that was really the extent of his memory of those things.

Buddy clicked the lid back on and handed it back. "You're better off asking Em or something."

"Right. Thank you. And, uh..." He nodded awkwardly to the hammock. "I'd like to talk to it when it wakes up, if it's alright with that. I hope it feels better soon."

"It'll probably just run off, but yeah, sure." He turned back to his work. "Now go away."

Snowball smiled, and left.

[skarnaes]

Non-euclidean geometry in media is one of the most fascinating things to me. I remember playing games like Antichamber and The Stanley Parable when I was younger and I only now realize how much of an impact they had on my younger, sponge-like brain. There's a feeling akin to a fourth wall break when reality itself breaks before you, you cannot rely on the comfort of knowing not only what will happen, but can happen next. It oddly resembles the feeling of listening to music outside of 12-tone equal temperament, especially if you're like me, and has spent years listening and studying to music inside this one system. Using a medium to its full potential, to the point where you feasibly cannot recreate said art in any other way. Books like House of Leaves are a perfect example of 'media that cannot be recreated in any other form'. It is a popular form of ergodic literature; a book whereas effort is required to traverse through pages to get the full picture of the story. There are pages where the text will suddenly be backwards, form shapes, etc. The format of the text will physically bend to act as a metaphor for what the characters in the book are feeling/what is happening to them. Without explaining the whole plot of the book to ya; there is a part in the book where someone is stuck in an endless labyrinth, and just for curiosities sake decides to punch through a wall. As a direct result of this, the next few pages in the book quite literally have a hole in them, showing the text that was there a few pages earlier. It's even mirrored on the other side of the page.

(Pictured: House of Leaves, the page I just explained to you. The blue square in the middle is the "hole" in the text. Image from CloudCuckooCountry's video about ergodic literature, where he talks about this exact thing).

Of course, I cant talk about meta media without mentioning liminal spaces and The Backrooms... There isn't much to say other than that this sense of unease seem to be a universal feeling. Many of us growing up in the 2000s can faintly remember being, or atleast seeing a place like a park, a long hallway, a mall etc. Viewing these pictures—which to some degree remind us of our childhood—in a distorted manner not only tugs at our nostalgia but also feeds into our subconscious fear of the uncanny valley. Our new generation is obsessed with nostalgia, so it's no wonder this "meta-genre" of horror is so popular, with things like Gemini Home Entertainment, Mandela Catalogue and so on. Gen Z is widely considered an experimentational generation, with the global normalization of the internet and social media becoming much more prevalent in our daily lives. At a time where we are spoonfed all sorts of both real and fake news from all over the world at all times, it's no wonder most would rather go back to a time where you weren't always pressured to stay connected. Anyways.. dunno how my small ramble about non-euclidean geometry in media turned into me writing about gen z and nostalgia. I'm gonna go back to being inactive now.. (_ _ ") .. Zzzz

[fromtheseventhhell]

George establishing Sansa as an unreliable narrator and then making her the only POV observing one of the biggest schemers in the books is actually so big-brained.

[momentomori24]

I randomly keep thinking about that one Teruya and Kinjo fic I wrote like 2 years ago or something and it's making me cringe so bad that I just wanna drop everything I need to work on and rewrite that shit on the spot

[ratwars]

I fucking forgot I had explicitly been rolling with the poison dart frog ability theory for this fic since we didn't actually know when I started this thing.

[magiertama]

🌟 A Soulseer's Light 🌟 Arkano is royalty among the Deva, but one abandoned by the throne for his uncooperative personality and his defect by birth. He is someone who can see into the souls of others and extract the Seeds of Fear to help them live again.

[into-my-cringe-era-letsgoo]

I WAS TRYING TO REDESIGN NICOLE AND THIS WAS CREATED-

I really like it for some reason alkjflksajdldsfjk

Have one without fade:

One with fade: (I couldn't choose which one I liked best)