#they have a big ol noggin

[i3utterflyeffect]

can selkie!sc fit in a pringles can…

a stick-sized one? nope. baby's head is just a little bit too big!

[kangals]

important update: Keps head is now the same size as stellinas

[whentherewerebicycles]

okay just finished working for the day... let's see let's see what's left on the agenda. i ran to the grocery store while his nanny was here and that was soooo luxurious just wandering the store without a stroller or my gigantic baby strapped to my chest. i gotta walk the dogs still agh but maybe i'll make myself do that now so i can get it over with. no need to cook tonight as i made a ton of pasta primavera last night and can eat leftovers for a couple days. ok ok: change, walk the dogs for 30 min, eat dinner while the boy treegazes, bedtime routine, then read in bed. i keep putting off starting tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow but maybe i should just go for it tonight? or maybe i'll let myself read more murderbot tbd.

[houseofwolvess]

i hate how short dogs live in comparison to humans

[whysamwhy123]

Never got around to doing this before, so fuck it, I'll do it now!

WriteSamWrite - Works | Archive of Our Own

You can find all of my fics here (you need an account to read 'em because that's just how I roll) I tend to jump from pairing to pairing without warning, with a lot of rarepairs mixed in between. Nowadays, I mostly write OrangeHook, but there's some Hookhausen there too, and a little bit of JungleHook and Dustjim. Oh, and I recently started a self-indulgent Ricky/Christian AU that I'm weirdly invested in, if that somehow interests y'all. I'm the slowest writer imaginable, but I'm steadily plucking away at a bunch of stuff right now, and while a lot of it is Weird, who knows, you just might find something that appeals to you!

wrestling fic writers!!

i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months

if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found

and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom

and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways

a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜

nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you

and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)

as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!

101 comment starters

ao3 floating comment box

kudos html

dont know how to comment? easy solutions

a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)

an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers

and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place

i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together

happy sharing and commenting 💜💜

[gleafer]

Sometimes before I have to tuck into a big job with a bad deadline, I need to mentally prepare myself with a few warm up sketches before hand to loosen the ol’ noggin.

They’re quick and messy, but make me giggle! It’s the sugar that makes the medicine go down.

[alchemistc]

Give me a two episode disaster arc where Tommy and Bobby are stuck somewhere awaiting rescue, tbh.

Give me Tommy with a big ole bump on his noggin and Bobby trying to keep him awake. Tommy admitting he's pissed at Bobby because he left his family and they got Gerrard out of it and he can feel that casually cruel attitude creeping back under his skin every time he hears a story about the shit Gerrard puts the team through. Tommy telling Bobby that when he pulled him into the office that day and silently slid the recertification paperwork for piloting across the desk, something had rattled loose in Tommy and he'd realized that the better person he was trying to to be wasn't going to be the best version of himself until he made a change and stopped letting the ghosts of his father and his superior officers and his captain haunt him.

Tommy reminding him that Bobby means the world to the 118, that they'd flown into a hurricane to find and save him, that for all that Tommy hadn't worked with him for long he'd always had Tommy's respect, but now Tommy is grateful for him, because Buck and Eddie and Chim and Hen have had him. Because he'd fostered a group that has pulled him into their ranks without question.

Give me Bobby panicking a bit when Tommy loses consciousness, because he's pinned and too far away to actually wake Tommy back up. Give me Bobby talking to him anyway, admitting that he's scared, that he's pretty sure his team has grown past him, that he's not needed anymore and he doesn't know where to go from there. He'd thrown out his book and thrown in with his team and now he's not sure what his purpose is when they don't need him anymore.

Give me Bobby getting frustrated and ANNOYED and yelling at Tommy to wake the fuck up and help him get them both the hell out of there.

Give me just the slightest hint of Bobby saying some Out Of Pocket Shit about how gone on Tommy Buck is and only finding out a week later that Tommy had heard that bit.

Gimme Buck on the outside, worried as shit but solid because it's Bobby and Tommy, and they've got each other, Buck knows it.

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: years ago, you broke up with him for his reckless lifestyle. now, when he's come back without changing a bit, you don't know why you let him back into your life.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.65k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: angst, death is mentioned and tyler gets close to it not explicitly, kissing, swearing, baby as a nickname for your lover, lot of made up family members + names

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: cowboy slang vocabulary, yes it's 11pm, yes I wrote this in a day, yes I'm in bed, yes Glen Powells is hot

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler Owens likes to live what others might call a dangerous life, although he much preferred to call it a life of thrill.

He started it off as a bull rider for a rodeo, and though by the end of it he was regarded as the star bull rider and sometimes even the star of the show, there was a big learning curve that ended him with a couple (something closer to four dozen, really) kicks on the ol' noggin. Luckily, none of it sprouted within him either physical or mental problems by the time he decided he wanted to move on; his mother always said he had a thick skull, anyway.

After the less dangerous, still excruciating years in university, he came out with a meteorologist degree. And what did he do with it? He became a storm chaser.

A peculiar fact that came with it was that even after landing a more dangerous job, he sustained less injuries than bull riding by a substantial amount. Suppose the thing is that the moment he gets his first serious one, he's likely done for.

You've been through it all.

You met him before he even started this life, in high school; your first kiss was at his bedside after a particularly harsh fall and kick, you persisted through the busier university schedule, and you supported his dreams to be a storm chaser.

But at the height of it all, after the first scare when the anchor mechanism on that old truck of his failed to stop the car from turning onto its side, you decided you two were over.

It was definitely selfish. You didn't want to be close to him when, and you said when, he died. You decided it would be a lot less grief on your end, and you know what? He understood you.

For years, you've been grateful for him. As much as you've been his anchor, he's been yours...but he'd have made you a widower, even if you were married or not, and you just couldn't take that possibility.

If you're caught in the disastrous thunderstorm he'll leave behind, you're not sure you'll ever make it out.

You hope you'll never find out.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Get your ten commandments out of my soup!"

So why did you let him walk back into your life?

"I'm sorry! Hey, don't hit me with that ladle!"

You're not sure.

You point the utensil at him as threateningly as possible, although it's practically the same thing as pointing a spoon at him. "I don't need you for a taste-tester, Owens, you best take note of that."

"Yeah, yeah," Tyler's body is shaking with laughs, even as he lifts his hands up in surrender. "yes, sir."

You roll your eyes, bedrugingly turning your back to him to keep chopping vegetables. Tonight, you'll be sharing this soup with the whole family, and you're currently trying your damnedest to make it good. That means avoiding whatever seasoning boiled Tornado Wrangler digits will bring.

Tyler leans back to admire you, no he's not looking at your ass, work away. It feels oddly domestic, even if he's sitting down like a useless husband watching TV on his recliner.

That feeling of domesticity is piled on further when he hears the sound of innocent laughing outside.

"You sure that kid's not mine?" Tyler suggests for the second time, gesturing out the back door with his head.

"Haha." You laugh sarcastically, not even giving him the satisfaction of turning his way. "No, my sister just so happened to marry a blonde. Even if she was somehow ours, I would've never kept you from her."

Of course you wouldn't have. You're too good for that.

The kid outside is your niece, a twelve year old girl shipped out of bustling New York City to the backdoor of America for being "too addicted to her phone", as your sister says. Despite her self-proclaimed hatred for the outdoors, she's actually having a lot of fun with the ranch dogs, who indulge her when they're not working.

Even though he's in no way related to the kid, and even if you and him could never biologically create anything together, he swears she looks just like if the two of you had a love child, which makes his heart swell all the more when she sees her.

"If we could've had one," Tyler begins, standing up to begin a slow, silent walk towards you. "would you have rather they be a boy or a girl?"

"Don't ask me that." You say with a laugh, meaning you're refusing to answer only because you don't want to have prejudice.

"Okay, fine, then." He settles behind you, pressing his chest to your back. "Huh."

"Huh, what, cowpoke?"

His hands are settled on the edge of the counter on either side of you, trapping you in. "I thought you'd flinch."

"I learned to expected the unexpected around you, Tyler Owens. Never a day went by that you didn't surprise me, so I decided I'd simply never be surprised."

Tyler sputters out a laugh. "Oh, hobble your lip!"

"It's true." You reply, offhandedly, fully concentrated on chopping some carrots, and Tyler hates that because you're not giving him attention.

So he opts to do something you'll obviously never expect and prove you wrong. He leans down to press his nose against your neck, and you think he's only going to kiss it, but instead...

Thbptttttt!

"Ew, Tyler, you did not!" It's a miracle you have the self-restraint to put the knife down, let alone only push him away and not slap him on the face. You clutch the spot where he just blew a raspberry and instantly regret it, recoiling away from the feel of his saliva like it's acid.

Tyler laughs. Despite your best efforts to push him away again as he approaches, he only dodges your hands and traps you against the counter again. His plan is accomplished, as he now has you facing him.

"You asshole." You snarl.

Tyler only smiles. "Yours, all the same."

He leans down to kiss right where he'd blown that raspberry, collecting most of his own spit on his lips and saving you the trouble of cleaning it himself.

Even when you wipe off the rest of the spit you'd previously touched on his sleeve, he laughs.

"What am I going to do with you?" You sigh, cupping his cheek and tilting his gaze towards yours.

He's a damn bastard, having the audacity to grin at you as if he's won some kind of victory. "Kiss me."

So he's a puppy, then. Licking you like it's a way of kissing and expecting a proper kiss back. "No, you don't deserve that."

He rolls his eyes, though his eyes find yours immediately after. "Yes I do. Kiss me."

You don't know why you let Tyler Owens walk back into your life like nothing happened. You don't know how you let him kiss your neck, or how you let him even ask to kiss you, or how you're even being friendly with him.

Scratch that, actually. You don't know why he kissed your neck, why he wants to kiss you, or why he's being friendly with you.

You walked out of his life, for God's sake. You walked out of his life because you feared dealing with the aftermath of his death.

He's a tornado. Tyler Owens, the tornado wrangling cowboy, is a tornado. He's a fire twister, even, the worst of the worst, a category F5. The damage he'll leave once he dies out won't be devastating, it'll be incredible.

That's what you're trying to avoid.

"What's wrong?" Tyler's smile has faded, his expression sobered up. Of course he can still tell when you're lost in your own thoughts.

"Nothing." You shake your head, wipe your nose to hide your sniffle and thus let go of his face. "Hey, how about you go check up on Sophie? My sister would kill me if she got hurt."

"Right, sure." He can sense something's wrong, but he withdraws anyway, respecting your decisions. He always does that, and you hate him for it, because he's so good.

You watch him head out the back door, and even as he closes it, you watch on.

He's too good for you.

When the distant sound of the boiling soup catches your ear, you inevitably tear your eyes away.

Right, let's make the best soup there ever was.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler had unknowingly picked the right time to show up at your front door when he did.

"Aww, come on, you didn't have to make such a big fuss," Your great uncle speaks with those sloppy dentures of his, but even with the wet sound of his gums and lips, he sounds entirely endearing. "Tyler's back! This party should've been his."

Tyler's always been the life of the party ever since you brought him home for that first Thanksgiving (his "trial", so to speak), and that apparently hasn't changed.

"Oh, no, no, you're kiddin' grandpa!" Tyler only raises his glass from where he's leaning against the punch table. "It's your birthday! Hell, I didn't even bring a gift!"

"Your fine ass is all you needed to bring." Your famously single aunt grins and sends a wink, holding a glass full of wine she snuck in despite all the children around.

Tyler directs his own glass towards her to thank her, his smile never waning. "Oh shush, aunt Delilah."

As Tyler greets the family one by one, all of which clearly miss him, you're in the corner of the room pointing out each of them to your niece.

"Those are your cousins...I think. They're your mom's cousin's kids, and well...whatever, they're Jonas' kids. Becky, Jake, Bean–"

"Bean?"

"Sorry, his name's Nick, we just call him Bean 'cause one time as a toddler we found him sitting on a sack of raw beans, shovelling them into his mouth."

"That's crazy."

Even after you've named every face in the room and sent Sophie away with a pat on the head to mingle with her...cousins, Tyler's still talking to everyone.

Your heart burns like you've had some of uncle Dick's famous dripping fried chicken at the sight of it because nobody's ever like this when it's just you.

It's not even about the fact you're forgotten, it's a big family and you have your own close group of cousins in the middle of all of them, it's the fact that they missed him.

While you're distracted, your mom pulls you down to sit beside her on the couch, where your dad is telling another story of his. Many of your aunts and uncles and distant cousins are gathered around him, listening intently, but as you actually hear the contents of his speech, your attention fades away. It's one of those stories he always tells, about how the crop cycle was ruined until he had this eureka idea.

Distantly, you hear Tyler droning on about his whole tornado wrangling cowboy thing, explaining his latest feat like it's nothing but a regular Tuesday. He's got a lot more people gathered around him than your dad; not to discredit your dad, as he's doing his best trying to compete against Tyler in storytelling, but you know how that will end.

You kiss your mother on the cheek and stand up to find your more amicable cousins, only to be interrupted by your aunt Sissy, Delilah's sister.

"Hey, darling! How've you been?" She calls you over and immediately slings an arm around your neck, holding you close and rubbing your cheeks together in greeting.

"Good, good." You say immediately, an instinctual white lie as you wipe her transferred makeup off your cheek.

She doesn't even notice you're lying to her, maybe doesn't care enough to notice, before she's nodding her head towards Tyler and his crowd. "I'm so happy you're back together with Tyler, he must have so many new stories to tell."

"Um, actually, auntie," You try to correct her, then bite your lip, pausing suddenly to think. It'd probably be a lot better if you let her believe you were back together, but you've already dug yourself into saying actually. "we're–"

"Hey, auntie Sissy!" Tyler suddenly appears beside you like he wasn't just across the room, leaning down to gracefully accept the cheek kisses in greeting. He somehow comes out of it without getting stained. "How have things been? The old cat still slinking around the neighbors' yards?"

The two of them exchange a few words before he's slinging an arm around your shoulder, "Can I borrow this one real quick? It'll just be a sec."

"Sure, sure!" Whether an insult to your presence or a compliment to his coercion tactics, she's more than happy to let the two of you go. "Don't let me hold up your fun."

You're grateful for him steering you away from the party and out onto the front porch, but you're also dreading being alone with him after the whole thing in the kitchen.

Tyler doesn't seem too far off.

"Whew, I did not miss being around your family." He breaths out, leaning against the porch's railing.

The whole dread fades into confusion as he says that, and you lean against the spot beside him. "You didn't?"

"No...well," He shakes his head, "I missed hanging out with them. I did not miss having to tell them every single detail about where I've been since I've last seen them."

"I thought you liked telling them stories." You hummed, turning your gaze from the scenery ahead to him.

"Eh...I much prefer intimate crowds." He sends a wink. You flush and try to turn away, but he catches your cheek and stops you.

Tyler knows something is wrong, has known since you discreetly pushed him away earlier today in the kitchen. Looking into your eyes only further convinces him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

His eyes narrow. His stupidly beautiful blue-green eyes narrow at you, and you know you can't lie anymore...but you can deflect.

"Did you know your eyes are blue and green?" You ask, lightly tapping his hand that sits on the railing.

"(Y/N)."

"Blue rim. Green...center? No, that's not the word, the inner? God, I don't know." You shake your head, and despite the movement, his hand doesn't leave your cheek.

"(Y/N)."

"They remind me of the classic scenery." You hold a pointer finger out. "Blue sky, green lawn, right? Or the Windows default wallpaper. Both are iconic."

His other hand leaves the railing and takes your other cheek. "Baby, look at me."

Baby. You used to hate it when he called you that, you weren't some baby, but now...now, how you've missed it.

You sigh, closing your eyes momentarily to collect yourself. No more deflecting and no more lies. You actually had to talk about your feelings now.

It had taken a lot of courage the first time, telling him: yes, I still love you, I'm just selfish and think that if you die, you'll take me down with you; no, I know you won't actually kill me, but you'll take my soul with you, and that's practically the same thing, isn't it?

"You don't have to tell me anything." Tyler speaks up before you do, beckoning your eyes open. "You just have to tell me to go away again, if that's what you want."

"No," You instinctively say.

"No," You say immediately.

No. No, how could you? You did once, and you're not sure how.

"Stay." You say, because you want it, you want him to stay.

"Okay." He says it easily, and his hands fall to his sides. He's willing to take that, just that, because...you don't know, maybe he still loves you. You're not willing to admit that.

You're not willing to accept that he still loves you after you told him you wanted to break up.

You take his hand before he can walk back into the party. "Why'd you come back?"

"I..." Tyler almost shrinks back, but you intertwine your fingers, and now you're the angler reeling him back in. "My car got flipped onto it's roof."

"Baby." You breathe out, pulling him in, pulling him closer to you, almost like he's not living flesh in front of you and you need to make sure he's breathing by feeling his chest heave against you.

"I was in the hospital for a little while...just some cuts." He assures first, to not worry you. He grabs both your hands, presses his nose to the knuckles, inhales the scent of their sweat like it's that of an apple pie, and it's weird but he needs it. "The glass broke, obviously, all of it, and some of my equipment, and, well, fuck, it was worse than a couple cuts."

"Ty."

"I'm okay, you see? Not scarred. I'm tough." He lets go of your hands momentarily to do a little twirl for you. He looks just the same as you left him.

"You almost died." You say anyway.

"Yeah." He doesn't deny it, he can't lie, because he can see through your lies as well as you can see through his. "I wanted to see you again, because...I wanted to see you in case the next time I got into an accident, I actually died. And you know what? I feel selfish for it."

"What? No." You shake your head, step closer. You're about to say more, but he starts first.

"You told me to stay away, but I came back into your life and I acted like nothing happened. You know, the life you're living? It's kind of what I wanted for us. A little ranch, some cows, some dogs, a farm. We get our own milk, our own eggs, grow our own food, and it's just the two of us..." His fingers climb up your arm like a little spider, and his gaze follows it absentmindedly. "Until we decide to adopt a little girl. You drive her to school, I drive her back home. We're happy, raising her. We teach her not to be like us, and she still turns out an exact replica of us, anyway. She's our princess."

"Sophie?"

"Sophie."

He sniffles. You tear your hand away from his only to cup both of his cheeks with your hands. "I'm so sorry, Tyler."

"No, I–"

"No, shut up." Despite the severity, you laugh, and he does too, until you're speaking again. "I shouldn't have left. I should've stayed right there with you. I'd have been right at your bedside, you know? I'd have kissed you like the first time. Remember what I said?"

He laughs again, "That my breath tastes like cow shit?"

"Yeah, that." You grin at him, and he loves to see you grin like that again. "I was selfish."

"I understood you completely, though. I thought I was saving you the grief." That's why he let you leave so easily, and you realize it now, looking into his eyes. "You were right. You always are."

"I'm not, Tyler. I was wrong." You shake your head, "I thought it worked. Weeks went by when I didn't think about you, because I fought the memories of you back. A year after, it settled in that I wouldn't be seeing you, so I thought I wouldn't even think about you anymore, but...the memory of you, your smile, your kisses, your warmth resurfaces every month, and god, I missed you. And missing you without the possibility of having you is just grieving you."

"...and now I'm here." He leans a bit further away, and you see all of him. You see the way his blue-green eyes are glassed over, and you've no doubt yours are the same; you see the familiar way his hat is perched above his head and how he still wears the top two buttons of his shirt undone and how his smile is just the same.

"And now you're here." You nod.

He places his hands over your wrists, holds them, presses his nose against yours. "I missed you too."

"Mhm?" You hum. Your breaths mingle with his, pressed this close together.

"And I love you, too. Still do."

"Fuck." You laugh, a teary little thing, but it's real and genuine and not a figment of his imagination. "I love you too."

And then you kiss, and he's missed it so much, and you've missed it so much, the two of you. You're slotted together, like pieces of a puzzle. You're not you without him and he's not him without you.

When you part, you wipe a couple stray tears off his cheeks, and he does the same for you.

"Should we..." He chokes a little on his words, then shakes the nerves off. He has you back, and his smile returns. "head back?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we should." You find yourself leaning back in, anyway.

You share another kiss, maybe two. If he'd brought a friend or three along, he'd have signalled them to light the fireworks in his truck to add a little magic to it, even if it already feels like fireworks are going off between your lips.

You could spend eternity like this.

When you've had enough of each other for the moment and finally head back in, your great uncle raises his spoon at you and laughs. "There you are! This soup is amazing, kid!"

Or at least that's what he would've said, had his dentures not gotten stuck in a hard carrot and splashed right back into his bowl.

One of the carrots which you added last, thanks to Tyler's distraction earlier today.

The tornado wrangler of a boyfriend you've regained is laughing his ass off beside you, while you cringe. So much for the perfect soup.

"Come on, (Y/N)." Tyler wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, and you're so happy he can do it casually again.

"Let's get us a bowl."

[yeyinde]

Dude your brain is so big, the concept of a druid/spring deity reader just casually kidnapping their baby daddy is so 😩 finger licking good

I’m such a sucker for dark reader

Also you’re right, Soap? Unbothered. Man is living his best life in this scenario, he wants you to use him ong

i sometimes like to strike my two brain cells together, like flint and pyrite, to spark some creativity from within this ol' noggin.

and same!! i really love oblivious, innocent reader. my corruption kink is astronomical, tbh. but sometimes i just crave a dangerous, deadly MC. they're so rare to find, and so hard to really nail down but i have this dreamy secret garden-esque vision of a soft, nymphlike reader standing by the edge of water with one of them just staring through the thicket, wolfish, and absolutely blind to the fact that the forest only moves when you do. that the "hunger" in your gaze isn't just marbled red with concupiscence, but rather a primordial ache in the pit of your belly. a gnawing, desperate to emptiness you're itching to fill. utterly famished for a taste.

(but they end up being too good in bed to eat)

and Soap hears "i was supposed to eat you, like a preying mantis or some sort of spider, perhaps a black widow or a jumping spider. you know, like sexual cannibalism to feed our young" and instead of running like anyone else would, he just takes it, puts it in his back pocket, and then you wake up the next morning to a bunch of bodies in your domain. he's practically force feeding you all the people he doesn't like from the village at this point. unbothered king. hungry? have the bishop. too full? no, no, no, birdy. you got to eat. his little babes need to grow big and strong, don't they? a menace. and now you're stuck with him.

[carry-the-sky]

go spin the wheel, see where it lands—

Here's the thing about time: it's always running out. He felt it even as a kid, this urgency moving through him, around him. Always just ahead. He'd catch up, if everything else would just slow the hell down. But there are rules, and rule number one is that time tends to be, well, linear. Directional. Things get a bit messy when it's not.

Four seconds. That was rule number two, and the consequences for breaking it are— bad. To put it lightly.

He doesn't exactly have a choice. Or, he does, but if it's between breaking the rules or not, watching everything he loves get ripped away or digging in, claws first— well. He knows a thing or two about fighting dirty.

So, no, it's not a choice. It's immutable, like gravity. Time. A strict progression from cause to effect.

Ekko breaks rule number two.

And the line becomes a circle.

.

He thinks it's a dream, the first time. What else would it be? She fell. She's gone.

She's here now, though. Whole and happy and here, running a hand through her chopped-short hair. That single streak of magenta hits him where it hurts, square in his chest. You can't feel pain in a dream, can you?

"You're back," she says, without looking up. She's lying on her stomach, sketchbook open, a whirling kaleidoscope of color on the page in front of her. "Took you long enough."

"Was I gone?" Ekko says.

She actually laughs at that, the sound filling up his ears, warm and bright. "Benzo was starting to worry, not that he'd ever admit it. Big ol' softie." Her hand flashes, chalk sticks arcing across the page. "You seem to have that effect on people."

He shakes his head. "I don't. I'm not—"

She scribbles faster, fingers stained pink and blue and every shade in between. "You know, for a smart guy, you're kinda dumb."

"Ouch."

"I still like you, though."

This is a nice dream. Maybe the only nice dream he'll have again.

"I miss you," he says, dredging the words up from some sunless space inside him. "I didn't tell you before."

Her hand slows to a stop. From where he's standing, Ekko can only see a few snatches of detail on the page; a fuchsia smile, twin blue braids.

"I'm right here, buster," she says, not looking up. Grinning softly at her hands. "Never left, actually."

The circle wobbles, shifts out of focus. Time and space folding in on each other like paper cranes.

When he blinks, Powder is gone.

.

Too late. It's always, always too late.

.

"It's you," she says, the next time.

They're somewhere green, somewhere he's never been. A part of the Undercity that doesn't exist where he's from, that never existed.

"Uh." He blinks against the sun. "It's me, yeah."

"Seriously?" Beside him on the lawn, she pops up on an elbow, scrutinizing him. "You still don't get what's happening? Sheesh, hopping dimensions really does do a number on the noggin."

Okay, this is a weird dream. Still, as long as he keeps her talking, as long as he has sun on his skin and grass beneath him, he doesn't really care. He'll take weird. He'll take whatever he can get.

"Noggin, right," he laughs. "Synapses. Drunk slugs."

Powder scrunches up her nose like she's trying not to laugh. "Alright, I give. If you wanna dance around the giant elephant in the room, be my guest." She turns her head into her arm, a shield from the sun. Between them, their hands brush in the grass, pinky fingers tangling together. "Next time, though."

Ekko hums, content. More than that— happy. Overflowing with it. Then he frowns. "Wait. Next time?"

Paper cranes, folding in and in and in.

"Dummy," he thinks he hears her say before she disappears.

.

"So when you said 'hopping dimensions', you meant—"

"Yeah."

"And that means—"

"Yeah."

Ekko spins in a circle, arms thrown out wide. "But— how? All of this, the lab, the tech— it shouldn't exist here. Heimerdinger made sure—"

"Hey, you're the genius," Powder says. "I just live here."

Four seconds. He lets it sink in for four seconds—she's whole, she's happy, she's here, at least in this tiny pocket of space and time—before he's crossing the space between them and pulling her into a bruising hug. Her breath puffs out in mild surprise, and then she's hugging him back, arms cinching tight around him. I won't forget this. But he's already started to. He drops his head to her shoulder, breathing her in, every tiny detail. He won't make the same mistake twice.

Her eyes are wet when they untangle. Ekko swipes at his cheek to find that his are, too.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so sorry. I thought I saved you, but it wasn't— I wasn't—"

"Don't," she says fiercely. "Don't do that. Not with me, not here. I meant what I said, okay? You're a good one, Ekko. You don't give up on people. If I'm— if the other me is— then there was nothing you could've done to change it. That was always gonna be how the story ended."

The tears are a river, streaming salt down the slope of his nose and into his mouth. "I was too slow. I'm always too damn slow."

Powder's hands are on his face, her lips kissing the salt from his cheeks, his eyelids. "The boy savior," she murmurs. "It's not your job to save everyone, you know. But I love you for trying."

She's fading, or maybe he is. Time and space, a never-ending anomaly. But there are constants, too, things that keep the universe spinning. Rules worth breaking.

He feels it, this time. It's like someone's scooping out his insides, rearranging his atoms. Like he's being wiped clean, unmade. Hollowed out so that some other him can be stuffed into his skin. Four seconds is all it takes, or maybe four million.

I love you. I love you, too.

.

He tells her for real, when he sees her again.

"I know," she says, elbowing him in the ribs. Her cheeks are dusky-pink. "Following my lead, huh?"

He looks at her, really looks. Every detail; the dainty point of her chin and the dusting of freckles across her nose and her eyes, big and bright and blue.

"Always," he says.

.

Time and space. Paper cranes, folding and unfolding, creasing the lines of reality. Some rules can't be broken, but they can bend a little.

Here's one: when you die, you stay dead.

.

He must be dreaming. She's standing right in front of him, in this dimension, on this plane of existence, real and whole and here. Her hair is still short, all of it blue.

Four seconds. He holds his breath for four seconds, and then: "Jinx."

"Hey, buster," she says.

[thesillestluxeandcastiel]

Star-Sweet

request: oh my goodness, I've had this idea locked in my noggin for like, forever but I haven't had enough confidence to actually request it, can you write a Jax x Reader where they go out and look at the stars? Obviously, they aren't real stars, but maybe Jax had asked Caine for a favor or something.. I don't know, just WRITE I'M NOT GOOD WITH IDEAS PLEASE

Warnings: uhh cute dates and Jax being jax??

A/n: I'm so glad you could build up confidence to request to me! Don't be shy, I don't bite unless im asked to! (/j) in all seriousness though, the worst that'll happen is I classify it as heavy NSFW or I just... Don't do it for other reasons. Feel absolutely free to request almost anything!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Jax, I swear to God if I end up breaking my nose or something because of you." You glared through the blindfold, obviously he couldn't see that but he could get an idea. He chuckled, "Wellllll, now that you mention it.." He playfully pushed you forward, almost making you trip on a rock. You gasped and smacked the air, attempting to hit him, which obviously was not working as you were just flailing your arms around. This made Jax actually laugh, and you pouted. "Are we almost there?!" You yelled out at him. He shrugged. You sighed, but then smiled. 'This is gonna be fun.' You thought sarcastically.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Taaa daaa!" He smiled, taking the blindfold off and sitting down on the grass, tapping the spot next to him with a cheesy grin on his face. You smiled adoringly, the stars were so pretty. You gasped and sat down next to him slowly, just staring. (At the stars, not him..) "Jax, how did you.." You started, before he cut you off. "I may or may not have pulled a favor with Caine to get allowed outside tonight, but totally worth it." He smiled, looking at you. You grinned. "They're so pretty Jax, I don't even-" "not as pretty as you!" "Oh my god, do NOT use that cheesy [BLEEP]s line on me right now." You groaned, holding up a hand to his face and playfully pushing it back. He smiled a big ol grin, and booped your nose.

You stared at him for a hot minute with a 'seriously?' Look before jumping up and bopping his 'nose' full force. He gasped, and then glared at you.

"Oh it is ON, come here-" he yelled, chasing after you whilst laughing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You both laughed as you toppled over onto each other in the grass, rolling down the hill fast but softly too. You grabbed Jax's shoulder for support, as you buried your face into his shoulder to suppress your laughter. This only made himself laugh harder though, causing you to still laugh as well.

Slowly, you two came to a stop on the hill, tangled in eachother's arms. You smiled up at him as you blinked, it was getting increasingly harder to keep your eyes open. You sighed, closing your eyes fully and snuggling into the giant teddy bear that was Jax. He froze for a minute, untill wrapping his arms around your waist as you drifted off. He smiled, (if you have bangs, read this part, if not, don't, ignore it) brushing your bangs onto the side of your head, he placed a tiny peck onto your forehead, watching the rise and fall of your chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jax walked back into the tent with your sleeping form, he peaked over the walls with his head, making sure nobody was around. After he was sure, he walked into the main room still holding onto you. Caine appeared next to him suddenly, seemingly about to say something, but Jax put one finger to his mouth - or rather teeth. Caine got the hint, and nodded. He then looked between you and Jax. Jax rolled his eyes and nodded. Caine held up his fist, and Jax (against his will) hit his larger fist onto Caine's smaller one. And Caine was gone.

'Alrighty, now to get Sleeping Beauty off their Star-Sweet high and into bed.' He thought, walking faster towards the resting Corridors.(?)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PJEWWW, MY FINGERS HURT. *sobs*

[huntermoris]

🐦‍⬛Crown and Crow🐦‍⬛

----⋆⭒˚.⋆⭒˚.⋆⭒˚.⋆⭒˚.⋆----

The first AU- knight!sylus x royal!Argen

"the crow" is the knight that was appointed to the new Queen of this land. He had known her way longer than her people had, so of course it made sense that it would be him and her in the end.

"There’s so much whispering happening at court. The queen has yet to find a spouse, yet it doesn’t really seem like she is looking that hard to begin with, and that knight of hers?

that big brooding crow who never seems to be able to let her out of his sight? he might've scared away any potential king consorts by the looks of it.

How odd they are spending all their free time hunting, and so far from the castle.

And the fact that his own soldiers say he was the one requesting or rather begged to be her appointed knight. It’s all very odd. No?"

----⋆⭒˚.⋆⭒˚.⋆⭒˚.⋆⭒˚.⋆----

Sylus the knight and Argen the queen, a real brainrot infestation that has been growing into untamed chaos up in the ol noggin this week. gang! I have so many wonderful ideas :)).

also Sylus with long hair.

The treat this time is the lovers and the miss Moris portrait in black and white :))

[middlingmay]

I've put it off for far too long. Bucky Egan is getting put in stockings and his world upended by Gale Cleven. Tonight.

Here's a snippet!

“Alright then. Take me upstairs.” John obeyed the one and only command he expected Gale to utter tonight. They had an equal amount of give and take when it came to sex. They both liked being in charge and giving it up depending on their mood. But John knew this was going to be so far outside of Gale’s experience that he would be the one leading tonight. And he liked the thought. Loved it, even, of being the steady hand behind Gale’s pleasure. Inside their room, John flipped the lock and Gale’s brows kissed his hairline. But before Gale could ask the questions John could see brewing in that big ol’ noggin of his, he leaned against the door, hands clasped behind his back and pushed his hips out. A summons Gale had never been able to refused. And he didn’t now. Gale long, supple hands gripped his hips with a strength that always sent John into a tail spin. People saw Gale’s pretty face and often jumped to the wrong conclusions. He was wicked, sharp, fast, and strong, and more than capable of putting John down when he had to. It was a heady thrill to have that type of strength panting for you, whimpering for you. And that was John’s goal by the end of the night. Gale swept his hands round to cup and grab at John’s ass, but John laced their fingers together before he could get there. “You missed something,” he said, drawing Gale’s hands up towards his waist.

[gravidwithlore]

A king who wants to unite all the kingdoms under one banner, stopping wars and unifying the kingdoms to better serve the people and establishing trade.

Everyone laugh at at him until he offers them an heir, for them to raise under the express authority that they will unify when the current kings pass on the throne.

They all laugh and refuse an heir that is not of their lineage under he offers to birth their heirs.

The first one agrees and fucks the King for 72hours straights until he’s delirious in bliss and waddling from the weight of the cum and the pain in the ass.

He births a centaur baby 6 months later.

Then is the time of the orcs. 14 months pregnant with one huge baby that almost tears him apart during labour but he manages.

Next is a clutch of dragon eggs that leave his stomach hard and an odd shape for three months as they rub together and creak as he waddles.

Finally it in the turn of the fae. He doesn’t know how many he’s carrying because they don’t calm down enough for him to count. They’re constantly moving and pushing up against his taunt skin as he waddles around, though not very far in fear of being pulled off balance by a sharp movement of the babies inside.

Oooooooh it took me so long to think of a response for this one, I had to let it ruminate and rattle around in the ol noggin for a bit.

Of course even after the fae are eventually born, the kingdoms still resist unifying. After all an orc will only listen to an orc ruler, the dragons don't respect anybody who has no draconic blood in their veins, its the same for the fae and the centaurs as well.

So the king invites all of the kingdoms to one big party for all of their people. Its a huge gathering and the festivities last for days. During this time the king has invited the current leaders, all at the same time, to celebrate within his bed chambers, to celebrate their own 'festival ritual.' The orgy last several days, and by the time its done the king is too blissed out and sore to get out and enjoy the rest of the celebration, but he is satisfied that his plan worked.

Its not long before his belly begins to round out again. He carries high, his belly hard for the first half of the pregnancy, just like when he carried the dragons eggs. His belly so very round and heavy, as it was with his orcish child. And once he starts feeling movement in his womb, he knows he's having a fae-like litter, their strong kicks reminding him of when he carried the centaurs child.

He is pregnant for so long, so very long. Longer than the 14 months his orcish child grew, longer than the years the practically immortal fae and the dragons had taken. The entire time, the lands have tentative peace, the only fighting is merely joking arguments and bets placed between peoples on which peoples child he'll give birth to next. Eventually there are bets placed on whether he'll give birth at all, or even that its merely a trick to keep the 4 kingdoms at bay. By the time he begins to feel labor pains, his hair has just begun to turn gray at the temples.

He summons the leaders who had knocked him up, insistent they all the present for the birth of their heirs and future leaders of a united kingdom. The labor last days, the babes spreading him almost as wide as the orc and the centaur babies had, their journey through his birth canal as slow and maddening as the dragon eggs had been, his children's movement as unyielding and strong as when he birthed the fae litter. At the end, exhausted and sweaty, the king proudly presents the rulers of a new kingdom, to all of their assembled parents, bow before them in reverence and respect. Their feet hooved, their legs covered in what looked like fur; a draconic tail growing from the base of their spine and little horn nubs on their foreheads; the shape of the jaws, and of course their large size, promised they would grow into their orcish heritage; their pointed ears and disorienting cries promised the same for their fae heritage as well. Quadruplets. Destined to rule together, presiding over ages and ages of peace and prosperity, just as their father had always dreamed of.

[ouijarat]

Too Weird To Love, Too Scared To Die

Chapter Two

(Chapter One here if you missed it >>>)

--------------------------------------------------

“What. The fuck. Are you doing?” 

“Uh… making breakfast? Duh? What does it look like I’m doing? Aren’t really using that big brain of yours this morning, are ya, IQ?”

As memories of what he had done rushed back to him, Stanford stood there in the entryway, fists clenched and mouth opening and closing like a dead fish as his face turned red with fury upon resigning to the fact that this was, most likely, not a dream. Bill snapped his fingers and suddenly a gramophone nestled into the corner of the room sparked to life, a symphony of soft 1930s jazz hits cascading through the kitchen as the triangle hummed along. He unceremoniously poured the disgusting contents of the pan onto a plate before flicking his wrist to manifest a mug of black coffee (Ford’s favorite, he knew), delicately floating both dishes over to the table and snapping again to pull out a chair. “Sit,” the triangle said cheerfully, as though he were talking to a dog.

The scientist was filled with a burning hatred and fury like he’d never experienced before, unable to stop it from bubbling over like thoroughly shaken soda from an open can. On instinct alone he grabbed a knife from the block on the counter and hurled it at the triangle as hard as he could. The knife lodged itself into Bill’s exoskeleton, just to the right of his eye, only to immediately absorb itself into the surface of the creature’s face before disappearing into it entirely. The demon stood there for a moment, apathetically unfazed. He sighed, almost sounding disappointed.

 “And here I thought we could have a nice meal together.” 

Bill rolled his eye and snapped his fingers once more, an invisible force attaching itself to Ford and dragging him over to the table before pushing him down into the chair with a grunt from the scientist. Stanford seethed silently as he was forcibly glued to the seat, the hatred of a thousand suns burning behind his eyes as he glared at his former muse. His former sun and all its surrounding stars. “What is this place?” 

The demon floated over to the chair opposite Ford, plopping himself down only to realize he was far too short, only barely able to see over the table. He clapped his hands and summoned a booster seat beneath him, now eye level with his once devoted disciple that was currently glaring daggers at him.  “This, my big brained friend, is everything you’ve ever wanted!”

Ford blinked. “You’re insane.”

Bill blinked back. “...Stanford, we established this a while ago.”

The scientist’s face contorted in a harmony of anger and anguish. “You can’t possibly believe your little glorified prison will sway me into anything. You’ve already beaten me. You’ve taken everything from me. You won, Cipher. What more could you possibly want?” He spat. 

The demon scoffed, rolling his eye. “All I want is for my favorite little human to be happy!” He sing-songed, presumably in an attempt to keep things light hearted, yet he only really succeeded in being extremely unsettling. 

Stanford’s expression was blank as he felt bile rise in his throat and suddenly he found himself barking out a cruel, humorless laugh. “You can’t possibly be serious.” 

“Deathly,” Bill said, his exoskeleton flashing a blazing red and his voice distorting before he chuckled and went back to normal, as though nothing had happened. “I created this place for you based on all the information I collected from your ol’ noggin over the years! I thought of everything! I can give ya the grand tour after breakfast. Don’t you love it, Fordsy?” 

The triangle batted his absurdly long eyelashes, hopefully and eagerly waiting for Ford’s response, a reaction, anything, as though he expected something positive. As though he hadn’t just doomed his entire dimension, tortured and entrapped him and taken him away from his family. As though he hadn’t immediately ruined his life the second they met. The scientist’s reaction was not, surprise surprise, overwhelmingly positive. 

“I’d rather you have just killed me.” He seethed, expression twisting into one of disgust, snuffing out the hopeful, manic glint in Bill’s eye. 

Bill sighed. “I should’ve known you’d be difficult. You’re always so difficult now. What is with you lately? You used to be so obedient. Can we please go back to that?” He sighed, eye squeezed shut in frustration as he rubbed where his temples presumably would be. He waved a small, black-gloved hand and a bottle of red wine appeared on the table, along with a single wine glass. “You’re driving me to drink, Sixer. Are you proud of yourself?” He poured himself an entirely too generous amount.

“I’m not playing games with you. Where is my family?” Ford deadpanned.

“Yes you are! We never stopped playing. You just stopped making it fun. Y’know half the appeal of chess is the banter-” 

“Cipher.” 

“They’re fine, brainiac. Well- actually I dunno about that inferior double of yours. I had him disposed of since you never really seemed to like him anyway. But, I took the liberty of putting the objectively better of the two little ones in here with you! I’m sure Shooting Star is around here somewhere. I really gotta map this place out, it's getting ridiculous. What do you call her? Marble? Maple?”  

Ford gripped the armrests of the wooden chair in a six-fingered vice.

 “And Dipper?” He gritted out through clenched teeth. 

“Pinetree? Safe and sound, as promised… regrettably. I thought it’d be best if he didn’t interfere with all this, though. Real vibe killer, that one.”

“Where. Is. He.” He began to shake with rage.

“I told you already. Safe. Sound. Are you going deaf or something? I didn’t think you were that old-”

Fed up, the scientist slammed both hands onto the table, knocking the repulsive plate of marsupial viscera onto the tile floor with a clatter, anger practically oozing out of every pore. He futilely attempted to lunge at the demon yet he remained glued to his seat as Bill just sat there, looking only slightly disappointed before taking long, slow sip of his wine. 

“I just made that for you, y’know.” The demon sighed, voice pitched in irritation. 

“Take me to them. Now.” Stanford snarled, nearly frantic. He refused to humor the monster’s sick delusions, and if he had so much as laid a finger on the younger pines twins, no matter how powerless against him he was now Ford would find a way to make him pay for it. 

“Not with that attitude. What, don't take my word for it? I made a deal didn't I?”

Ford kicked the table. “Of course I don’t take your fucking word for it! You’re the universe’s most deceptive villain! Every word you’ve ever said to me was a lie!” 

Bill gave him a bitter look, almost one of offense. “Woah woah woah, not everything-” 

“Bullshit! You just can’t help yourself can you? Do you hear yourself!?” He ranted, venom spewing from his every word. “You’re sick. What are you really trying to accomplish here? What is all this really for, Cipher?”

Bill stood up on his seat, trying to make himself bigger. “I told you I-”

“I don’t care about your convoluted lies! Why am I here? I have nothing left to give you! Is this just some sick ploy for you to worm your way back into my head? For you to have someone to control? For you to feel special again? For you to play god? Newsflash, demon, you are not a god, and I will never, ever, be manipulated and seduced into worshiping you like one ever again. You’re a sadistic, one-eyed, freak, Cipher, and I was a naive fool to ever think any differently.”

Bill stood there in shock for a moment, pupil so narrowly slitted that it almost disappeared entirely into the white of his eye. The wine glass in his hand abruptly shattered. In an instant he flipped from astounded to furious, his body turning to a fiery red once more. His tiny fists balled up at his sides, shaking as he shrieked, “Okay, that’s it, bucko! Didn’t they ever teach you in kindergarten that if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all?!”  

Just as Stanford was about to retort, the triangle threw up a pointer finger toward his face and suddenly he found himself unable to open his mouth at all. He immediately began to panic, hands coming up to claw at his face as though he could pry the magic seal off his lips with brute force. He fell to his knees as he was suddenly no longer stuck to his chair and it was ripped out from under him and slammed against the far wall with a loud bang. Suddenly, the tiles around him began to appear to turn almost liquid and red papered walls began to rise out of the floor on all sides. His insults and profanities were muffled as the walls rose higher and higher surrounding him until they met the ceiling, effectively trapping him in. Once he could no longer see Bill, the spell keeping him quiet was lifted and he gasped for breath. He stood up, frantically looking around for an exit point, but the pseudo-cage seemed to be effectively air tight. His ex-muse’s voice echoed and bounced off the narrow walls. 

“Say you’re sorry.”

Ford grimaced, head whipping around trying to pinpoint what direction the voice was coming from. He laughed dryly and joylessly. “You’re psychotic.” His eyes went wide as the ground shook beneath him, the walls of his confine suddenly moving closer together, enclosing the space even further. 

“Say. You’re. Sorry.” 

Ah. So this was how Bill wanted to play. The scientist brandished his fists and banged on the wall defiantly. “Over my dead body!” The cage got smaller.

“Say it!”

Stanford was quickly realizing he may be running out of options here. Hypothetically if the situation were different, he would honestly and truthfully rather die via pancaking between four rapidly encroaching walls than even think of apologizing to Bill Cipher. However, the kids were somewhere. Alone. At the end of the world. And if he died now, there’s no telling what could happen to them, assuming it hadn’t happened already. The walls began to push back against his braced arms and the demon kept screaming, voice shrill and headache inducing. 

“Say it! Say it say it say it say it-”

“...I’m sorry.”

And everything stopped. 

[normal-internet-user]

OKKK OK look technicality speaking,,, i'm supposed to be indulging in the sleebies rn. BUT my brain would NOT let me sleep until i commished this to ya!!



your peepaw leo answer? fantabulous. jaw dropping, awe-inspiring, hit just the spot. Extravagantly whimsically stupendous. ultra super mega amazing. need i say more? YES AND I WILL CONTINUE TO DO SO-

yet. ☝🏼 & hear me out here.

*folds hands all neat and preppy in front of me, leans in close so we're nose-to-nose, all business* 

I have a storm a-brewin'. Up in the ole noggin'? Knock knock.

SPECIFICALLY ABOUT Reader and how they interact with Present (or to them, Past!) Leo!!

They're not as forthcoming as Casey, and I imagine that even after the war is won and the apocalypse is therefore prevented, that initial hostility would fade! … but instead it’d become … kind of awkward? They don't hate Leo, it's just. 

Not the Leo they know.

Not the Leo they know and love and miss and mourn and glory to be, they’ve got their work cut out for them.



Reader is still coping with the loss of everything. the breathing techniques alongside Master Michelangelo's high EQ teachings on handling emotions help a lot more than they'd expected.

And!! The present (past??? aughguhghhhh) Hamatos are a big help too!! With time, it all does get better ^^)

(AKA: everyone's ✨traumatized & coping together✨, m'kay? m'kay.)

This all boils down to Reader and how they re-evaluate (rebuild?) their relationship with Leo. The Leo in THIS timeline that they helped save. How they heal from their wounds, inside and out, and try to make the best of what they’ve got. Because if the future taught them one thing: it was that no matter what, you've gotta keep going. Don't give up.

Canon plotline following n' stuff before the fluff downpour!

Here's a hc format for random moments in the way I see it bc it's easier? Is it? (/lh)

When Leo was finally released from the Escape Pod and everyone took in how haggard he looked— pale, shaking, horrified at what he just witnessed,

When he snapped and lunged at Casey, 

Reader’s reaction was swifter than a bullet. 

They swept in front of their brother, effectively and terrifyingly going toe-to-toe, snout-to-nose with this Leo, snarling out a bite of their barely-concealed rage. Their eyes are slits, their teeth are fangs poised to strike, and the venom is promised.

They’re just as dangerous as him at that moment.

The threat goes unsaid: Back. Off.

Their heart is racing like crazy, alarm bells ringing in their head and frustrated tears build up in their eyes. They're swimming— no. Drowning in confusion. In feelings. In dread. In nausea. In grief.

They didn't care what iteration of Leo this was or what they'd ever face: the image of Papa, whatever version it was, even thinking of bringing harm to Casey was enough to send them teetering over the edge.

Time travel. Alien invasion. From “Apocalypse Is The Norm” to “You Can Stop This Hellscape From Ever Happening BUT You Wipe Out Everything You've Ever Known Along With it.”

....

yeah that's enough to make a grown man cry.



Reader quickly realizing that, amongst their simmering anger, there was a kind of fear. Not just the impending sense of anxiety at everything that was happening around them, but this was familiar.

Papa had never been an inherently volatile person (turtle? snrt), but he was a Leader.

His very presence demanded respect. 9.∞ times outta 10, he got it.

Despite the image of their beloved dad momentarily crumbling within meeting his younger counterpart, Reader can’t help but cling to that familiarity.

The familiarity of that intimidation – that regard – in Leonardo. 

He was pissed, that’s for sure. And Reader was actually kind of scared. Their Papa never was a violent person per se, but he’s had his moments. 

It was kind of uncanny, seeing the young shards of those traits come to be. To see this young Leo, with so much ahead of him, slowly but surely become the man you knew and was raised by. 

In spite of yourself, you could feel that same reverence and respect bloom in your chest. It hurt too, because it felt like it was for the wrong reasons. 

Yet, you digress.

Besides, you were never one to hold fast to grudges – it was poisonous. And despite feeling like you were being poisoned slowly, in to out, you knew it’d pass. 

It was along the lines of something Uncle Mikey had told you once ...

“What a caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.' Never forget, sunshine. Even when it feels like your world is ending, and you're caught right in the midst of it all?

... You can choose to birth a beautiful butterfly, ready to take on the world. You're a butterfly; every great thing starts small, no?” 

So. You watched Leo out of the corner of your eyes. Listened to Junior as he sparkled and praised your young uncles, telling them the truth of their characters in your timeline.

—andddd a flash of hot annoyance flared up in your chest when your brother piped up something about Papa’s rescue of a resistance camp to the teenager him,

You tried to settle the war within yourself. How would you fight both at once? Not when there was an entire one unfolding right in front of your very eyes. 

. . . you wanted your Papa.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ;༊

this has been,,, the first part of many a Wal-Mart ad. BA-DUM-TSS!

i'd add way more but my eyes feel like they're about to fall out jsjsj

*air kithes (ง ˃ ³ ˂)ว ⁼³₌₃⁼³ /p and lounges on your back porch, cracking open a cold juice pouch* Penny for your thoughts, toots?

Ok, first of all: Dear (/p) you are a freakin genius- now let us discus some things over a juice pouch.

READER POST-MOVIE/DURING THE MOVIE HEADCANONS

....................................

You are 100% percent correct about all of that.

Firstly, when April manages to knock both of you out and drag you back to the Lair,

Casey is much more open, and excited.

You're treating them as a potential threat.

I'm talking resting bitch face, broski.

Sure, in the future, these people raised you, but this isn't the future.

So you glare and let CJ do the talking, because at the moment your still processing,

And your anger could lash out at anyone in this room.

When Leo turns on Casey, your reaction was like second nature.

You had alot of moments during the apocolypse where if you took to long to assess the threat, you were dead.

So when Leo lunged at Casey, and your mind locked him in as a threat,

Those familiar instincts of, "Danger: protect family" kicked in.

Weapon drawn, teeth beared, you looked more feral than Leo,

But you were scared too.

You were so fucking scared.

You knew this wasn't your papa,

You knew that.

But to see his younger counter part so angry, so ready to be violent was terrifying.

You'd only ever seen your papa angry and violent one time in your life.

It happened when you had to drag Casey back to base, half dead and yourself much worse for wear.

You'll never forget the violence that shone in his eyes at the sight of his children.

One unconcious and bleeding,

The other hardly able to stand.

You have no idea what happened to the officer that sent you and Casey out,

But he wasn't seen around much after that, most said he was demoted to work in the more... laboring parts of the base.

Looking into Leo's eyes at this moment, you see a very similar violence to that day,

But what scares you is that violence is now directed at your brother.

After Casey explains none of this happened in your guys' time,

Leo shoved past you, and had his little, "We're going because I say so" moment.

You were beyond pissed.

Here was his team, telling him to wait,

To hold on a second, to come up with a plan,

And he was just- ignoring them.

But, you kept silent and followed Casey when he left with Leo,

You'd be damned if you left your brother alone with this idiot.

In the turtle tank, while Casey practically sings his praises, you can't help the scowl that builds on your face.

Casey kept using present tense, "You are.", and, "you were" in Donnie's case,

He just couldn't seem to grasp that this wasn't your family, future tense should be used.

Not past, not present, future.

Because he's not technically wrong,

But it still rubs you the wrong way for him to compare your Papa, to this guy.

In the subway tunnels, you get seperated from Casey, you end up with Donnie and Mikey.

Mikey had to physically pull you into the tank kicking and screaming.

You needed to be next to your brother.

You had always been right beside each other your whole lives,

You were terrified.

When you were in that tank, and it was on the verge of crumbling, you started having flashbacks of the time Kraang had attacked your first home.

You were so small, just a little kid waiting for Papa to come find you.

You were on the verge of sobbing as you desperatly tried getting ahold of Casey.

Skipping ahead to the end of the movie,

You didn't wanna let go of Casey's hand.

It's odd, knowing that you don't need to see what's lurking in every corner,

Because there's nothing there anymore.

You don't have to be scared.

That's when you notice the shimmer of something clipped to your boot.

Looking down, you see a blue, star shaped hair clip.

How it had managed to stay on your boot this entire time was a mystery,

But what was less of a mystery was how it got there.

You knew your papa had placed it there.

You grabbed the hair clip of your boot, tears welled in your eyes,

Then you let out a choked sob.

You clutched the hair pin so tightly you might draw blood, and you sobbed and sobbed.

It was like all your emotions poured out at once, you didn't even know which one you were feeling.

It was a mix of grief, sadness, anger, and anguish.

Casey pulled you close, muttering how proud he was of you, you'd done so well.

"Sensei would be proud." he said, "Papa would be proud of you."

You clung to your brother like he was your life line, because in a way he was.

He was all you had left of your life before.

Post-movie, you're awkward around Leo to say the least.

During the movie, you were angry with him, mostly because of the paralelles between him and Master Leonardo.

But post-movie it's just awkward,

You can't look at him without being reminded of the father figure you lost.

All you wanted was for your papa to hold you,

To sing you to sleep like he used to do to hide the sounds of the monsters lurking above.

You just want your papa- no, you need your papa.

You need to hear his voice again, sure, technically you hear it every day but it's not the same!

You need to hear him.

You've taken to replaying audio recordings through your own mask.

Laying in your bed late into the night, replaying the same video's until your papa's voice lulls you into an uneasy sleep...

....................................

My thoughts for you my dearest! (/p) free of charge!

I plan on writing some fluffy Papa Leo oneshots sometime soon, not to worry!

For now, have these!