#saves him the guilt at least

[anomaly-vee]

HOLY SHIT. TORBEK DOESN’T EVEN REMEMBER AGDEN. OH MY GOD.

[skunkes]

the bad: i have been raised without much warmth from my parents in childhood, but also pressured to conform to familial authority, doubt myself always, and value familial connections above all else (<- failed at this, and feel guilt about it.)

but also in experiencing this i have been so isolated from the entire rest of the world and others, that it will be nearly impossible to create my own "family" -> find safety and comfort in anybody else once my family is Gone. despite dis i find it really difficult to break away from the familiar, disobey and disappoint, because, well, why are my wishes more important than anybody else's. why would I cause upset and distress in anybody, and exert so much effort into my doubt filled half decisions, for my meaningless little Wishes. being away would also mean less time with these people who I'll never see again once they're gone. being raised this way is definitely paying off for those who did so.

the good: yaaaay adjacent inspiration for writing talon lore

[aroacettorney]

we talked a lot about how the incidents in delica absolutely broke ludger, but tbh, casey didnt come out of it unscathed either.

imagine how lonely you must have been to willingly travel to such a distant land just to see someone who was potentially like/similar to you. and when you thought you finally got a best friend who could understand you in a way that no one else could, they turned out to be something you would absolutely abhor with your entire existence. they gave no explanations. they bothered not with excuses. there wasnt even enough time for you to grieve what you just lost because they forced your hands to fight them in a death battle. without a word, they just simply vanished as if your friendship in the past few months meant absolutely nothing to them and you were left alone again, trying to navigate when and what went wrong all by yourself. there was a mix of burning hatred, betrayal, and sadness inside you, but there was no longer anyone for you to talk about it — no one that could understand it. you endured all those feelings for three years with no one to share while chasing after your old-best-friend-now-turned-archenemy for answers because they never gave you the closure you deserved.

even when you finally learned the truth, you realised that they had never trusted you nor your abilities enough to even consider working together. rather, they took on the most extreme measure and didnt hesitate to make you their biggest enemy all the while keeping all their troubles and pains to themselves. best friends, friends, friendly acquaintances, private detective and their client — it turned out that your relationship was neither of them. was it truly your one-sided assumption after all? or perhaps, was it because you failed them when you could have known better and done better? still wanting to keep believing that your companionship was once real, your guilt started gnawing on your conscience. not only you couldnt save them, but your inadequateness also doomed them to their worst fate possible.

then, the opportunity came. you finally mustered up all the courage to utter an apology. even though they acknowledged it, they made no intention to accept your peace offerings. they reminded, "our alliance is temporary". they stressed, "enemies are what we are destined to be". what a fool you were, trying to save a relationship that never existed. either that, or you had never truly been forgiven. they wanted nothing to do with you. they needed not saving by you. it wasnt a closure you wanted but its still a closure you got. in the end, you were left alone once more, with the knowledge of a possibility that you also might not be able to save them again this time.

[romance-rambles]

godheim clarence | because it's you

On a seemingly normal day, as he's braiding your hair in the morning, your husband asks you if he should cut his hair. You try to be brave about it.

1.6k, post-clarence epilogue, misunderstandings + fluff, reader is mc, series: none

"SHALL I CUT MY HAIR short too?"

You register your husband's words as a joke at first. Why would you not? It flows so seamlessly from your own, after all—about how he might actually thank you for freeing up his time in the mornings if you chop off your long hair.

You know full well Clarence will not.

It is not enough to prevent you from chasing after your favorite kind of high. The one where he huffs exasperatedly and tells you as much, as a lovely but faint scarlet hue spreads across his cheek. The one that leaves you with the singleminded desire to kiss him, which you waste no time in doing—because you can.

So, expecting to see a hint of mirth in his blue eyes, you roll your eyes and watch him through the vanity's mirror with an unfaltering grin.

There is none.

Instead, the mirror reflects only the almost clumsy seriousness you've come to expect in his endeavors to prove himself worthy of being your husband. It is both flattering and worrying.

And sometimes, it makes you wonder if you were too harsh on him in the early days of your time together in the void, when you demanded apology after apology from him. Then, you remember that he's the same man who catches fishes only to free them in the end—and that this is simply sort of endearing idiot he is.

It helps immensely.

"Would you like to?" you ask carefully, concealing your silent insults with a half-awkward smile.

You would not like him to.

But it is rare for Clarence to express an interest in his appearance outside of what you make of it. His most frequently worn coat is the one you once complimented him, under a brightly-lit street lamp as he wrapped his scarf around you instead. He always buys the same fragrance, and only when it runs out, with a polite explanation of My wife likes this one the most that drives most merchants mad.

The only response he's ever offered when shopping for clothes is: If you like it, I'm fine with wearing it.

Biting back a scowl, you add, "I think you'd look good with short hair."

Of course he would. Even putting aside his hairstyle when he was younger, your husband is handsome enough to pull anything off.

You are, of course, very biased—it's an accusation you've never tried to deny.

"I see." With a pleased hum, Clarence ties off your braid. "Then I'll pick out a date. Would you like to come along?"

He's careful to adjust the hair tie first, concealing any stubborn tufts hair poking through between the gaps before he reaches for your usual red ribbon. Then, with a practiced ease that comes only with years' worth of repetition, he loops it through the hair tie and twists into a proper bow.

Today, you cannot find it in yourself to admire his careful movements through the mirror.

"I'm never going to hear the end of it if I do that," you answer, shuddering a little at the thought. The people at this village are mostly kind, but a few of the louder ones tend to comment on Clarence's tendencies a bit too frequently for your liking. "You remember what happened last time, don't you?"

Your fingers traverse down the full length of your neatly-braided hair to pull it over your shoulder. Their grasp on the end of it lasts for only a second before your hand falls to the edge of your stool. Gulping, you swivel around and soon find yourself properly face to face with your husband.

He smiles faintly. "In a sense, they weren't wrong."

To properly hold onto his face, you have to scoot closer to the edge. Clarence bends down slightly, further easing the burden on your arms. Your eyes narrow fondly at him before you ruin the moment by smushing his cheeks.

"They were insulting you," you correct him, indignation fueling your flat tone. "I'd say they were very wrong."

His expression grows helpless and fond. Wrapping his hands around your own, he settles down onto the hardwood floor. In doing so, he ignores your chiding entirely; instead, he looks at you with a hint of reverence in his gaze.

"Perhaps," Clarence agrees softly. "I've heard worse."

Inhaling sharply, you press your foreheads together. When you next speak up, your tone is softer. "Do you have a cut in mind?"

"The same as it was when I was younger, I suppose," he says, sounding a bit uncertain.

You do your best approximation of a nod. You're not entirely certain what brought this on, but that won't stop you from being the most supportive wife to ever be supportive. As you squeeze his hands gently, you hope he can sense your resolve.

"Alright," you say, a bit forcefully, as you press a kiss to his forehead. "—now get off the floor. It's my turn to do your hair."

IT'S WHEN YOU'RE CAREFULLY UNTANGLING your braid at night that you remember the conversation from that morning.

"Did you decide on a date?" you ask curiously.

Clarence hums. "I didn't get the chance to quite yet."

He's watching you from his side of the bed, both hands occupied by a book he stopped reading the moment you walked in after your nighttime routine. When you shake your hair back to normal and settle under the blankets, he wordlessly turns the lamps off, with only a flick of his hand.

Accepting his answer, you snuggle up against his chest, fully intent on going to sleep—

Except you can't.

Curiosity nags at you, offering you the same question over and over again in the hopes that you'll break. And break you do as you call out your husband's name.

You can't quite make out what his expression is, but you know he isn't asleep. It's only been a few years—just a little over a decade, to be precise—since they've reunited. Adjusting to a life within the bounds of time, you know, takes some time, especially for someone like Clarence who had seemingly outgrown the need to sleep even before he entered the nothingness.

"Clarence," you whisper, "what made you want to cut your hair?"

For a moment, he remains silent. You can hear his beating heart, and that is enough to let you know that he's flustered.

"Clarence?"

"You said I looked very handsome," he says finally. "The other day."

Upon hearing those words, your mind offers you nothing noteworthy. To you, calling your husband handsome is no different making sure your heart's intact. You think you might actually die if you don't tell him, but you haven't tested it before.

Your heart, however, is filled to the brim with affection for this man, the one you've searched nearly your entire life for.

Even if you do want to throttle him a little bit.

"You'll have to be more specific, dear," you tell him, gently touching his cheek. He's warm, you think. You're tempted to turn the lights back on. "I'm sure I say that every day. And why would that make you want to cut your hair?"

Clearing his throat, he adds, "To be more specific, you didn't say it to me necessarily. You were—" Clarence pauses, a hint of uncertainty to his next words. "—talking about my younger self."

Oh.

The gears in your head start to turn. Now, you can faintly recall the memory of you waxing poetically about the man whose image remains in use on one of the most popular and frequently sold-out stamps even now, centuries later. Mostly, you remember smiling through a comment about how carefully you must've chosen your husband—as if she hadn't pressured into picking a man other than your husband to gush about.

You would've chosen the Archmage who seemingly had no relation to your husband regardless, but it would've been nice to know ahead of time.

Because you do have eyes, Eliza. That's how you know there isn't a man alive that's more attractive than Clarence.

Still, there hadn't been any deeper meaning when you chose his younger self specifically. There'd been a stamp nearby and you'd used it as a reference, in the hopes that it would help the other ladies downplay your incredible knowledge of his features.

You're almost certain they think you're deranged.

"Clarence." You giggle, suddenly amused. "Clarence. You look very handsome today."

Clumsily, you press a loving kiss to his forehead. Then, to the mole under his eye, to the tip of his nose, to his other cheek, until finally, you kiss him on the lips. At some point, while you're busy being productive, he goes from laying on his side to laying on his back.

"What brought this on?"

He sounds bewildered. You think it's cute.

After taking a moment to compose yourself, you begin to explain. Throughout, he's mostly silent, save for the occasional acknowledgement. Still, you don't have to worry about whether he's listening or not.

Until the very end, his hands—still wrapped around you—give him away.

"I like your long hair just as much, because—" You give him another peck on the lips. "—I love you. No matter what, you're always the best-looking man in the room."

Clarence wastes no time in answering you, though he very nearly chokes on his words. "And I...you."

"Good." Feeling satisfied, you rest your head against his chest. "Do you still want to cut your hair? ...Clarence?"

"I think," he says, clearing his throat. "It's fine the way it is."

You don't try to point out why.

[andromeda-galaxy2877]

Okay this has been driving me CRAZY since I watched the movie almost two years ago so I gotta talk about this. I haven’t personally seen anyone make a post about it but I did see this in a fanfic once (I unfortunately forget the name) which just fueled the fire for how crazy this drives me, so here you go!

I know people love the idea that Leo was in the Prison Dimension longer, that maybe the dimension’s time works differently than it does on Earth. That is insanely creative and really cool to see, the Prison Dimension has so much potential to be explored but…what if it was even more plausible that Leo was in there longer? But it had nothing to do with the dimension itself or its properties?

So at the beginning of the movie, we see Future Mikey make a time gateway into the past to the day the Key got stolen, right? He stretches out his arms, and rips that hole in the fabric of time and space, and sends Casey to the past. And then, y’know, explodes, but that's besides the point.

What does Mikey do to save Leo from the Prison Dimension?

He does the exact same pose, the exact same technique. Of course this was probably just done for the parallel, but…what if Mikey can’t open regular portals?

What if that was another time gateway?

Obviously it couldn’t have been as much time as Future Mikey did, since Leo didn’t look any older. So what if he was in there for just a few extra minutes? A few extra hours? Maybe a few extra weeks, or even a few extra months?

None of them would have any idea. Only Leo would. If it were just a few extra minutes, no one would have any way of knowing. If it were a couple days or weeks, maybe Leo thought it took them awhile to actually get him out and didn’t realize it was the same day. (Sure he could’ve figured it out from the scenery after getting out, but like. He got beat up pretty bad, he could’ve been too out of it to realize)

It doesn’t really make sense to me either to have Mikey be able to make portals like Leo does. I adore Mikey, he is INSANELY powerful and I love all his crazy abilities, but Leo’s like. One thing is that he can make portals and teleport. It feels strange to me to have Mikey also have that. Like it’s cool, but at the same time it would be the EXACT same power then. 

So, in other words for all of this, oh my god I cannot wait till I’m done writing my current fanfic and can move on to the next one. 

[krizkrozapplesoz]

Thinking about Cletus having some kind of survivor's guilt after the whole trilogy

[tomboyyyaoi]

me and @cybersodas constructing thoughts and delusions which turned into a genuine oh fuck moment i thought i should share

TL;DR roberto's comment about meryl and vash being "not long for this world" stuck with me as not only an obvious hint at a parallel but also some sort of foreshadowing, and that moment in episode 12 where knives almost Gets Her that maybe. maybe theres gnna be some moment where shes not so lucky and barely makes it at the cost of. maybe an arm or a leg. then casey fucking brought up tonis' arm and . and it all just. everything clicked everything fell into position for agonies to take place.

[timegears-moved]

tbh i gotta take back what i said before. totk hasn't really done anything to make me care about this version of zel*nk

[unagrancantidaddepanes]

anyways all my homies love felix fathom, mf was doing what the social services could never do ❤️❤️❤️ king shit

[kelpiemomma]

Ingo held Khan's scaled wrist gently as he examined the claws his friend now sported. Five fingers had been turned into four deadly talons, new to Ingo but already put to gruesome work by the hybrid.

"I'm sorry about your hands..." he said softly. Khan shrugged as he examined his other claws.

"Eh, don't sweat it. It's hardly the worst thing they've done to me." He responded mildly. As though his body being changed against his will to a weapon was the norm. Ingo glanced at his eyes, his fangs, the remnants of his horns- and remembered this wasn't the first time his friend had been altered against his will. His grip on Khan's hand tightened.

"Still," he insisted, "if we'd found you guys sooner..."

If they'd found Khan and Nana sooner, Khan would still have his hands and Nana would still have both eyes. If they'd been just a little faster to realize the hybrids were missing, to remember where they had come from, if they had pushed their pokemon a little harder to fly and fight-

"I'm glad you found us at all, honestly." Khan said it off the cuff, without thinking, but must have felt how Ingo's grip tightened again. He turned his head to look at his friend and Ingo felt mild dread at the look in his eyes. As Khan leaned forward he cringed back just slightly.

"Hey, look on the bright side!" Khan accentuated his words with a point from his claws. He must have seen Ingo's confused upset because he smiled wider.

"The bright side?" Ingo repeated. There was a bright side to this?

Khan shut his eyes as if he was a teacher explaining something incredibly simple.

"Oh, my sweet summer train man, of course there is!"

He stuck out his claws like Elesa and Skylar did when they were showing off freshly done nails. The scales gleamed in the light, dimly iridescent.

"I match your color scheme now!"

Ingo's gaze remained on the claws for a moment. Was this really a good thing? Khan had lost another important part of himself because he and Emmet had been too slow. Was the simple black nature of his scales that important? Could it make up for everything else?

He looked up with tired eyes, meeting Khan's gaze again, and realized that Khan was not as unaffected as he thought. He was giving Ingo the softest smile he'd ever witnessed on the other man's scarred face, his eyes half shut and gentle. Khan had been there when it happened, had suffered the consequences, just as he had the last time he'd been abducted. He would figure out how to deal with his new appendages just as he always had before. It was not quite old hat, but it was also nothing new, and something would have been changed no matter how quickly he and Emmet had arrived.

For the first time in the years he'd known Khan, the hybrid was being sympathetic and offering Ingo a comfort over something he had no control of. Yes, he now had claws and scales, but they were the color that Ingo most frequently found himself in. The color of one of his closest family members. Ingo wondered if Khan had used that as a way to comfort himself after it happened, but didn't dare ask. Instead he tried smiling. Surely it was weak, but the worried look in Khan's eyes lessened.

"Yes, you're quite right." Ingo grasped Khan's claws as if they were still his hands, holding them tightly. He would get used to them, just as Khan had. It would be alright. "Another color would have been quite unfortunate."

[benveydraws]

putting these pages together for no particular reason

[pebbledrat]

The longer I'm around the more convinced I become that Jill and Michael also had some kinda codependent-besties archetype thing going on?? they may or may not even have been aware of it, but like. they're kind of a matched set, you know? Frequently purchased together, do not separate them

[zannolin]

you ever get an idea that is sooooo. arghhhhh bites into a roof tile and cries.

[armentas]

holy shit. delora doesn't exist within the haven universe anymore, but i absolutely need to have someone use the old dialogue i had planned for her.

delora, comforting heather: if you think about it, we exist in the first place because people care for each other. we exist because people loved each other as far back as adam and eve, and cain and abel.

heather: i think you're thinking of the wrong story. cain killed abel.

delora: i think you can love someone, and still kill them.

HELLO????

[fenixburned]

god this hurts me sm :))) like not only is haymitch forced into sobriety (which truly is excruciating for someone struggling with addiction) but if he does have to see the broadcast he also has to hear those words from peeta & that he stopped trusting him :)))) plus knowing that katniss most likely feels the same :)))

[libraryleopard]

Adult science fiction standalone novel

In near-future America, struggling documentary filmmaker Hayes Figuerido learns that an alternate version of himself from a parallel universe created the Envisioner, a device that can predict the future, and sent it to his reality

When he joins a team of scientists studying the Envisioner, Hayes meets physicist Yusuf and learns the two of them are married in another universe and finds himself falling for Yusuf in this one

As Hayes learns more about the multiverse, however, it becomes clear that while their lives are inextricably linked, their story often ends in tragedy and saving Yusuf could risk the univerise

Explores multiverse theory and questions of how far you will go to save the one you love

Gay main character with depression; Egyptian, Muslim love interest; M/M romance; aromantic asexual Japanese side character