#the prompt is “new adventures”

[bumblebeehug]

guysssss i might actually finish nalu week from 2023 this year!!! who would've thought!!! not me!!!!!!

[mischievous-thunder]

Let's just join them in their madness

[chloesimaginationthings]

Shout out to women

[marionette-j2x]

THE STANLEY PARABLE: ROAD TRIP

JULY 7th - "NATIONAL PARK"

@oswinunknown @employee052

[nepttunnee]

idk i felt like it

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 180

Danny looked at Wes, and Wes looked at Danny, both of their eyes saying the exact same thing: What the fuck is even happening right now. 

Apparently they can be summoned. Apparently, a cult from a different dimension tried to summon something and got them instead. Apparently their bodies got shrunk, or de-aged or however one wanted to explain it. APPARENTLY, this universe has heroes, and apparently they seem to be their universe’s equivalent to two of the villains here. 

Honestly, these “Cheshire” and “Riddler” people couldn’t be that bad compared to the Fentons. What are the chances they’ve committed war crimes or joined a government branch to legally vivisect things? That’s right, no chance. Probably. 

They should probably leave the hero-people to their freakout and find a way home. 

[aburdthatdraws]

Batober Day 24:

Storm

I didn't plan on making Batman beyond, but I was struggling with which character I should draw for the prompt. My sister suggested Terry! Honestly, it was a good idea! I owe this prmpt to her. This was made in a rush, which is why I used reference instead of doing something original. But its okay, because I feel like the array of inspirations I used really amplified the purpose of this prompt, which I'm really happy about.

[dx-core]

sorbet & gelato + chipped green nail polish

Paint and Skin

CW/TW: none

Pairing: Sorbet x Gelato

A/N: HELLO you're the first person to send me a request and I feel very special!!! Thank you!!! Anyways ,,, I love writing for these goons. They're so in love ,,

Soft skin in calloused hands.

It used to feel wrong , once-upon-a-time. He used to recoil when Gelato extended his hand to him , palm open in a silent invitation.

Those days feel foreign and unfamiliar , now. Like a blip in his history , something locked away in the back of his mind.

Today , he wouldn't hesitate to hold Gelatos hand. He doesn't, when Gelato's hand brushed against his.

He hooks their fingers together , runs his thumb over Gelatos knuckles , mapping out the faded scars there. " Your nails are chipped, "

The pads of his fingers slide over chipped paint. The flakes fall off, somewhere forgotten on the hardwood floor.

Gelato huffs out a laugh. His nose and eyes crinkle fondly. " Maybe we can paint them blue tonight. "

" Hm. " Sorbet hums thoughtfully, turning Gelatos hand and intertwining their fingers. Both of their nails were chipped , now that he's looking at them. The green paint has faded into a lighter color. " Maybe. "

" or maybe we could paint them pink, " Gelato continues , his mouth cracking into a smile , his gums and teeth poking out from behind his lips.

" that's pushing it , " he gives Gelato's hand a small squeeze. It's gentle. Nothing more than playful.

" I don't think we could pull it off anyway, " Gelato squeezes back. " Maybe we should stick to green. "

Sorbet hums again. " It suits you "

" It suits us, " Gelato corrects.

That sounds right, Sorbet thinks, as he holds Gelato's hand just a bit tighter.

[heatherfield]

@giftober 2023 | Day 10: new

What about new? I want new.

The New Adventures of Peter and Wendy, 1.12 “Fear and Loathing in Neverland” [x]

[hyliasblade]

//..............guys

i am going insane over that direct

[alagaesia-headcanons]

@marimo331 Thank you for the prompt!!! The timeline I'm working with is rather different, so I though an AU would be fun for this! I didn't exactly include dragon egg idea, but something along those lines. (also I already broke my resolve to keep these under 1k hhhh I am nothing if not long winded :'V !)

As a vague set up for this AU, the conflict that decimated the old Riders doesn’t go so favorably for Galbatorix and he isn’t able to secure power, so he and the Forsworn don’t last long after the war. When the chance to rebuild the Riders later presents itself via Eragon and Saphira, it doesn’t require the bloodshed it does in canon. There’s more weight on the Riders’ impact on Alagaesia’s cultures and power dynamics.

-

One month ago, after a series of concerning reports from the port city of Reavstone, Orrin contacted Eragon and requested aid for their investigation. A number of sailors- too many to be explained away as a crew that helped themselves to an excess of rum- have told similar tales of damaged ships and lines, snatched glimpses of uncanny creatures in the water, and ghastly sounds echoing in the caves of the eastern cliffs. A few weeks later, Eragon declared that Murtagh and Thorn would meet him at Reavstone in five days.

That should make the day of their arrival today.

Orrin can’t help but tersely wonder if the reason Eragon didn’t come himself is because of the wrong foot Orrin started off on years ago when the issue of the Riders suddenly reared its head after nearly a century of their absence. Eragon is kind hearted and has likely forgiven his past falters, and it’s of little consequence either way since he did provide the help they asked for, albeit not personally. But all the idle waiting leaves his mind drifting down such paths.

Lost in thought, he doesn’t notice at first several raised voices mingle with the cries of seagulls overhead. “Sire,” Graytooth utters, touching his arm once. His guard points up, redirecting his returned attention to the horizon. A glittering spark of red hangs there in the sky.

“Tell Powel to hail them and ask that they land in the north courtyard when they draw near,” he instructs.

More than an hour passes as they close the distance, the buzz throughout the city steadily mounting as they do. When he finally gets a clear view of them, Orrin worries briefly that even the north courtyard might not be big enough, but Thorn lowers himself with remarkably graceful precision, neatly nestling his enormity amidst the buildings of the keep. His ruby hide casts dazzling sparkles all around. He tastes the air primly, then lowers his noble head, observing all of them curiously.

As he does, in a flash of movement between his wings, Murtagh dismounts with an unhesitating leap to the ground. Running a hand fondly along the length of his neck, he makes his way around his dragon and Orrin gets his first look at the second Rider of the new generation.

Only having Eragon as a reference point, he’d pictured Murtagh resembling his half brother, but in the flesh, he is actually quite different. His figure is wiry and angular, at once appearing more lithe while also sharper around the edges. Loose curls of dark hair are half tied up behind pointed ears, a mark of the changes of a Rider, although he clearly hasn’t shared Eragon’s transformation into the spitting image of an elf. Murtagh doesn’t look entirely human, but he’s not sleekly polished in that elven way.

He’s very handsome, in fact. His eyes are clever and the subtle, sly curl of his lips is compelling. He wears a fine, form fitting tunic with sleeves that reach to his elbows, perhaps to better accommodate use of magic. Orrin would think he’s more of an athlete than a warrior if not for his scarlet sword.

Hand on his chest, he bows his head and greets, “Murtagh, at your service.” Then he holds his hand out towards his partner. “And Thorn, at your service.” Thorn pushes a paw forward in such a way that it hinders the other nobles from approaching, something Orrin feels an unexpectedly profound pulse of gratitude for. The dragon chuffs sonorously and blinks at him, and a breath of awe flutters in Orrin’s chest.

“I am honored,” he exhales, after almost forgetting his decorum facing the odd pair. “I am King Orrin, and on behalf of Surda, I want to thank you for providing your help with these unusual troubles.”

“Of course your majesty, the Riders will always serve people’s needs,” Murtagh replies automatically, giving the formalities only a cursory consideration. “I am the Riders’ expert on unusual troubles, after all, and I feel like I’m due to get another one under my belt,” he quips, wryly alluding to his past which Orrin isn’t wholly familiar with, but that he grasps the broad outline of well enough to know ‘unusual’ is an understatement. “Eragon told me what you said. I was impressed by the insight you had on all the reports.”

“Ahh, well,” Orrin fusses his fingertips over the clasp of his cloak. He didn’t realize that’d been passed along. “With Aberon’s library at my disposal, it seemed only right to do a bit of research.” He pauses for one beat, but Murtagh doesn’t interject, watching attentively. “Well- from all the sources I could gather, I’m very skeptical that it could be a Nïdhwal of any kind. It would be far too close to shore and I couldn’t find a single thing that would account for the sounds. One crew had convinced themselves that Ra’zac had made a den in the cliff-” Murtagh hums in his throat, entertained- “and their paranoia was threatening to spread into a panic. Luckily they listened well enough for me to assure them that it can’t be Ra’zac, as they’d never get so close to the sea.”

“Exactly, exactly,” he concurs intently, waving a hand towards him, “because they suffer in damp nests and-”

“They can’t swim,” Orrin finishes, gesturing back. “Right. Old accounts were thorough enough to rule them out easily, but left more to be desired about other creatures. I have a handful of theories on what this could be, but nothing definite.”

Thorn snorts, his breath ruffling Murtagh’s hair. “Thorn’s right, it sounds like you would be quite the asset for figuring this out. Do you plan to be on the ship that’s going to guide us to the cliff side?”

Orrin falters for a moment, taken aback by the prospect, then instinctively glances over at Graytooth. The look he gets in return is faintly exasperated, although not particularly determined to deny him. His guard wontedly remarks, “It would be dangerous.”

But Orrin can’t focus on that, his mind alive with the thought of fresh, open air outside of city walls, escaping the overbearing and ever present pressure of his court, the allure of a meaningful mystery where his curiosity and urge to understand might have a purpose for once. -And having a dragon and his Rider circling overhead! Surely, with them, the danger wouldn’t be so great.

Indeed, Murtagh offers, “We’d do everything we can to see to your safety.”

“...Do you think it’d make any difference? If I were there?”

Murtagh considers him with an even stare. “I think there’s no way it wouldn’t. In my experience, the right companion might make all the difference when it comes to unusual troubles.” The right companion. Orrin struggles to believe he could ever fill such a role. Murtagh tips his head and shrugs, saying, “It’s up to you if that seems wise, though. I can’t say for sure, and there’s only one way to know.”

Scattering the people gathered in the courtyard like a flock of startled sparrows, Thorn rearranges his legs beneath him and lays down, resting his head on his front paws, flicking the tip of his tail. Orrin feels the projected touch of his mind and his instinct to immediately refocus on his mental defenses lurches up, but after a heartbeat, he relaxes and listens to the dragon say, We’d like to hear your theories.

Orrin can’t restrain a small smile, touched. Murtagh shifts his weight and straightens his shoulders. “I’ll tell you what I learned, then. Whatever I can do to keep this danger from harming anyone else, I’ll do it. So- if it might help, I will join,” he vows.

Thorn purrs as Murtagh grins.

[tallbluelady]

As Thancred told it, Urianger didn't leave anytime for a "congratulations" before he returned to Rowan's side.

[brienneofqarth]

a Good Day under the sea

[seaside-writings]

Prompt #761

"I don't know what happened, but I feel more alive than ever before,"

[thefreelanceangel]

Mistake and Wound!

"...all she said was that she needed to say goodbye to a couple of people before heading to the New World."

"Something about leaving a memento behind for two people she loved? I don't know, Michael, I can't read Meli's mind. She looked the same as always. Yes, that means mopey."

"I'm sure we can ask how she's feeling when she comes back."

mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on? / wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

Meli feels her life as a Warrior of Light is just... a series of mistakes. Grave mistakes that lead to other people paying the cost. Every friend hurt is another failure on her part, another cut that digs in just... a little too deeply to ever really heal.

She managed it for quite a while, years even. Despite watching the man she loved die, Meli bit down on her pain, embraced her own darkness and forged ahead. Ignoring the gaping emptiness inside her that she'd felt briefly filled, she did what needed to be done.

And then she fell in love again.

Only this time, his death came at her hands.

A necessary evil. She grieved it. Continued grieving silently while celebrating victories with those who fought at her side. Racing from one crisis to another doesn't leave anyone much time to brood over the past.

Until the hurt is torn open again, ripped wide and scoured raw, by facing the long ago echo of what her soul, fragmented as it was, had been missing for centuries. Meli's heart broke beyond repair at that point, and when she finally trudged to the ends of the universe to save what was left...

She woke, alive, after that last battle with her own dark reflection, and wished desperately that she'd never opened her eyes. And yet, even then... Another crisis. Another battle. Another rush of adrenaline to stave off the crumbling weakness hollowing her out from within.

Meli needed those frantic moments to keep herself going. Not the heady joy of combat or exploration, not the burning flicker of hope that she nourished in others, but the pressure of an encroaching deadline, of a deadly trap about to be sprung.

Without them... All she could do was return the pearl earrings she'd treasured to the two men who'd made them meaningful. To the memory of her soul's ancient love, and to the grave of her living self's lost love.

And then seek solace in one last rush.