#this is technically part of my verse

[alchemistc]

She's not ...entirely sure this is a good idea.

Even as she raises her hand to knock she's second guessing herself.

The thing is - the thing is there aren't a lot of people in her life who don't take one look at her and make assumptions. She's petite, she's blonde, her face is eerily symmetrical.

When people see her, they think they know her.

Cap is great. The sort of man she wishes she'd known more of, growing up. The kind of man who stood in front of the entire crew and doled out cleaning duties and cooking duties to his men and didn't blink an eye handing her inventory, but pulled aside a guy six years into the job to inform him that if he made a snide comment about having to do Mona's job again he'd be looking for a new station. Respectfully.

The kind of man who let his crew cut loose and created a kind of family behind those bay doors, but didn't take their shit when they got out of hand

The kind of man who looked at her and just saw another firefighter.

Cap is great.

It's just...

Well, the guys don't go to Cap for advice, and she knows once upon a time that kind of hurt his feelings, but this feels like one of those things his husband is better equipped to handle.

("It's because he's older, right?" Cap had asked once, failing miserably at holding in a pout while the team around him demolished the roast he'd obviously spent hours prepping the night before.

Fred had still had half a loaf of bread in his mouth when he explained that talking to their boss about their sex lives just felt like an HR nightmare.

"So you go to my boyfriend instead?")

Mona's still considering turning heel and leaving the way she came when she hears whistling around the side of the house, and before she can make a break for it, Cap's husband is rounding the corner of the porch, winding his hands in a grease rag, and he's catching sight of her, raising a brow, slowing his steps.

He must see the panicked look in her eye.

"I can turn back around and pretend you were never here," he murmurs, the slightest hint of a smile on his face, and Mona feels every ounce of flight just seep from her bones.

Yeah. Okay. She gets why the guys all think he's the one to go to when they've royally fucked something up.

There's an ease to him, a gentleness that she knows for a fact was hard fought.

"No, I..."

The brow ticks up a little more.

"I just found a new sour Evan won't touch with a ten foot pole, if you're gonna be here a minute," Tommy says, and any resistance left vanishes. Mona's been to enough of Cap's barbecues to know his husband always has the best beer in the county.

"Yeah, okay."

Tommy crosses the length of the porch and glances glumly at his greasy hands. "You mind grabbing the door? Evan throws a fit every time I leave fingerprints behind."

She's interrupting his day, she realizes. He's a weird sort of semi-retired - flies for the county sometimes during wildfire season, flips classic cars from their huge ass garage around the side of the house, spends a month teaching courses to new pilots every year out of state and it's always the crankiest they ever get to see Cap. People charter his chopper, sometimes, although lately it seems like he only keeps the thing around so he can take Cap up to watch spectacular sunsets because they're the most sickeningly perfect couple she's ever met.

Mona grabs the door. Shuffles in ahead of him when he shows no signs of moving, and makes her way down the hall to the kitchen because she's been here enough times by now not to feel as weird about how welcoming they both were right away.

He uses his rag to pull open the sink cabinet and grab the heavy duty soap from underneath to wash his hands.

The scent rolls over her in waves, throwing her back about fifteen years to her parents tiny little apartment over the shop, her father's rough and callused hands soaking under shitty water pressure, the grease under his fingernails he could never quite scrape clean.

Tommy tips a chin at the fridge. "Grab me one, too? Bottle openers on the side."

There's an ease to the way he says it, like this is a normal occurrence, like Mona's ever stepped foot across the threshold for anything that wasn't a station-wide get together. She supposes for him it probably is. At least a few of the guys act like he's their dad, wandering into the house without even bothering to knock, gathering around him when he shows up at the station like lost little puppies.

He's used to it.

He hums his thank you when she sets one of the bottles on the island beside him, and Mona glances around to distract herself while he's drying his hands.

A couple dozen pictures of Cap and Tommy, in various stages of their lives.

The fridge is plastered with pictures. A couple she recognizes as Cap's sister and brother-in-law, two adorable kids at their knees. A guy standing next to a kid wearing a cap and gown and leaning on two crutches. An older man she's lovingly heard Cap refer to as basically his dad - the reason they eat better at work than anyone has the right to. A couple she'd seen at the wedding, standing with a kid she remembers Cap staring at like he was seeing a ghost. There's so many people that she doesn't know, but - there's the station pictures too. Candids of the boys when they were living in the Captain's house, back when Cap first got here, when she'd still been a year and a half from graduating high school and didn't have a fucking clue what she wanted to do with her life. The Christmas that Fred had cursed them with the q-word and Tommy had spent the day in the station kitchen putting together a meal they'd all stuck around to eat after shift despite the exhaustion seeping into their bones, all of A shift crammed together around a tiny wobbly table to squeeze into the picture.

She gets stuck on the picture of the two of them in hard hats, building what she's pretty sure is the wrap around porch she's snuck a few cigarettes on when the house gets a little overwhelming. There's something about the way they're looking at each other that makes her want to cry, a little.

Fuck.

Damnit.

Tommy leans over to tap the picture with a grin. "We had a blowout fight the night before our buddy took this picture," he says, the deep grooves of his smile stretched wide across his face. "I'd left my job and sold my house six months earlier to chase him across the country and he was convinced if he didn't find a way to turn every half-thought-out desire of mine into a reality that I was gonna vanish in the night. He bought the lumber without telling me and I came home to him and his best friend ripping out the stairs to the front door."

Mona's instantly drawn in.

He makes them sound like a train wreck.

If she's got the math right, that was her senior year. She remembers seeing them around town and thinking they were annoyingly sweet. She remembers her mom baking Tommy a casserole for the excuse of getting all the gossip about the Captain's mysterious paramour so she had the upper hand at her book club that weekend.

Tommy taps another. The two of them under a pergola, the expressions on their faces so disgustingly smitten Mona remembers wanting to blow a raspberry in the middle of the ceremony. She'd been so convinced she'd never let herself be so fucking dependent on another person for her happiness.

"He kept it a secret that he'd invited my father to the wedding until the night before. I spent most of my night with a punching bag instead of Evan." He points out another photo from the wedding. "The photographer tried to murder me when she saw my knuckles. Evan could barely fit the ring over my finger."

"Who snitched?" Mona asks, narrowing her eyes, and Tommy grins, huffs a laugh. He gestures vaguely at her face.

"You've got the look," he tells her, which doesn't really explain a whole lot. "And none of Evan's crew ever makes their first visit anything but love life issues."

"It could be something else," Mona argues, gesturing with her beer, and one of his brows ticks up. "It's not, but it could be."

"You want something to eat? Evan's been experimenting with cakes again, and the red velvet white chocolate escaped the discards."

"Is my so called look that bad?"

He grins. "Mostly I'm looking for an excuse for cake before noon."

Christ, he's good at this. It's actually a little eerie, how quickly he's set her at ease. It's been over a year and the guys still call her prickly when they think she can't hear them, but she never calls them out on it because they're not wrong. It takes her forever to warm up to people.

"Is that how this usually works? You butter us up with Cap's food and get us to spill our guts?"

He's already digging plates from a cabinet next to the stove. She can't see his expression, but she can picture the grin on his face. "Usually they raid my fridge and put their feet up on my coffee table before I've fully registered that they're here. It's sort of a novelty to get to act like a host in my own home."

That checks out, if she's being honest. They're all a bunch of rabid animals who've been emboldened by Cap's open door policy and his infectious smile and his incredibly hot and talented husband. She's never quite sure if the guys want to be him or screw him - not that Tommy's ever looked twice at anyone who wasn't Cap.

"I think I'm broken," Mona admits, the words coming out in a rush, her eyes on the dutch oven tucked under one of the wide kitchen windows.

Tommy slides a slice of fucking delicious looking cake her way and takes a swig of his beer. Waits.

Mona reaches for the fork and spills her guts.

---

"Oh, hey Mo," Cap says, stumbling his way over the threshold, eyes lighting on his husband and his expression going gooey.

Tommy broke into the rack of Banquet's an hour ago and Mona's pretty sure she's one with the couch. It's a good couch. When she'd told Tommy so twenty minutes ago there'd been a gleam in his eye she didn't understand.

She's still a little too buzzed to worry about the fact that she's oozing into the cushions and emotionally wrecked. She hasn't cried in front of another human being in at least six years. Tommy's probably a wizard, or something.

"Everything good?" Cap asks, and she knows that they've got a sort of agreement - unless Tommy thinks something is gonna affect the work, whatever Tommy talks about with them doesn't reach Cap's ears.

"Men," Mona huffs, and Cap pauses, shoots another look into the living room.

"Yeah. Men."

"No Cap. Men," she repeats, and he nods, a corner of his mouth quirking up.

"Oh. Men," he enunciates, and Mona feels the scowl on her face grow wider when the two of them share a sappy look. It's super fucking inconvenient to be surrounded by the proof of true fucking love when she's trying to convince herself she's already too jaded to find it. "If you wanna stay for dinner I can tell you the story of the time Tommy tried to leave me because he thought he could make my decisions for me."

Even Tommy's scowl is sappy as hell. It's gross. Shes having a hard time convincing herself it's not the best thing she's ever seen.

She tips her neck against the back of the couch to glance up at him. "Who snitched?"

Cap's laugh filters through the room, and right across from her, where the whole world and Mona can see, Tommy's expression goes warm and vulnerable, like the sound has soothed a few decades of wounds. "Word of advice? Never leave Harry with a secret and a crowded room."

[uncharted-constellations]

Dreaming about them 🥰

[comixandco]

The four Sages were called back into the past by Terrako and they remember it happening

Tulin got to meet his hero, Revali, and decided to be just like him, adopting his idol’s brash personality and drive. He practises Revali’s Gale and eventually comes up with his own way to show off his mastery of wind, and when trouble hits his home he rushes to fix it on his own to prove how strong he has become and because, like Revali, he can’t stand idly by while he knows there’s still things he can do.

For Yunobo, when he goes back and meets his ancestor Daruk, he is a very timid and reactive Goron. He needs a push from others to come up with ideas and carry plans through, and when bad things happen to him his first instinct is to use his fire magic as a shield, to wait until the threat has passed by or somebody else has come to save him. But when he is sent back in time to Divine Beast vah Rudania, for the first time he has to be the one doing the saving. Daruk encourages Yunobo and is proud of him from the moment they meet, and it’s this support that gives Yunobo the confidence to help fight against Calamity Ganon, and to start YunoboCo when he gets home.

For Sidon, meeting his family from 100 years ago is bittersweet. He is proud that he was able to protect his sister, and it’s a comfort to know there is a version of him who will grow up alongside Mipha because of his bravery and fighting prowess. But as much joy as he got from seeing her, hugging her, and hearing her voice again, it just reminds him of how unfair her death was, of just how young she was when she died and how he is now older even though he’s the younger sibling. And at the end of the war, when he’s returned to their original time, he has to readjust to her absence all over again, and in light of that is it really a shock he’d have her statue moved further away from his home? And it also explains why he’s so desperate to protect Yona from the sludge.

Riju in AoC still a new ruler to her people, despite her accomplishments in BotW, she still feels guilty over the temporary loss of the Thunder Helm and isn’t sure if she can lead the Gerudo. She has a lot of confidence but is quick to falter when things go wrong. Urbosa treats Riju as a capable fighter despite her young age, and teaches her that she should never give up, to keep trying even when her resolve falters. There is always something you can do, even when it’s just stalling for time until help can arrive. Urbosa guides her in mastering the Thunderhelm, and possibly begins teaching her to summon lightning herself after Kohga attempts to steal it, and at the end of their time together Urbosa tells Riju she’s certain she’ll lead the Gerudo well. Riju treasured her time being mentored by Urbosa so much that she considers what Urbosa would do during the Upheaval in her diary in TotK.

I think the entire reason Tulin was added to the DLC was because the TotK team had already decided that Tulin was going to be the Sage of Wind, and that since the other sages were going to meet their Champions Tulin had to as well.

At some point in the years between Botw and TotK Teba, Tulin, Sidon, Yunobo, Riju and Patricia were summoned back in time by Terrako to aid the Champions during the Calamity, and even though those events took place in a parallel timeline and had no bearing on the world they returned to, the Sages’ personalities at the beginning of TotK are because of their experiences during the Calamity and the bonds they made with the Champions.

[the-meme-monarch]

Do you think the government fucking questioned Delilah and Arthur by how they created life out of a new liquid/biological thing?

i think the government knows abt them and it’s just whatever HSHSNSNSNDH I mean unless the guests at the museum just think these are animatronics/people in costume somehow. i kinda think they know they’re living cartoons? there’s a poster abt the rules and it does just refer to them as toons. it sort of just seems to me toons are just an unquestioned thing in this universe. maybe the govt would be questioning them over What The Fuck Is Ichor And How Did You Use It To Make Your Toons though HSNSNSNNSDNDN

[synthshenanigans]

something something the window in light & night is a mirror and its all just been Whole looking in a mirror thinking about himself/his brain

[pencildragons]

snippet from my upcoming foxquin fic sinner, sinner (come to dinner) for foxquinweek !!!!!

“Commander Fox,” says the Chancellor, smiling his kindly smile. Fox stands very still and stares straight ahead, past Palpatine and through the great transparisteel window at the city below, skyline exploding in the brilliance of the sun’s final dying rays. The fanciful part of him that will one day be responsible for his death imagines that, if he’s just still enough, Palpatine will forget him entirely. It’s ridiculous, he knows, he knows, of course he knows, but he clings to it anyway, endeavours to move as little as possible, turns trying to hide even the slight rise and fall of his chest into some sort of test of how good his impression of being a block of stone is. “Sir,” says Fox. “Commander Fox,” Palpatine says again, still smiling that awful fucking smile, but sadder, now, mournful, bushy eyebrows doing something terrible and expressive. “You have disappointed me.” “Yes, sir.” “I gave you a very simple directive, Commander, and still you failed.” Fox is barely breathing now. Only a few klicks away, the spire of the Jedi Temple burns in a halo of pink-red, spearing through the cloud-strewn sky. It looks like one of the paintings hung in the Senate rotunda corridors, the ones that like as not cost more to procure than he did. His throat is dry. He tries to swallow. It sticks. It is likely he is dehydrated. There is a little light flashing on top of the spire, warning away in-atmo transports and low-flying starships. Orange-blue-green. Orange-blue-green. He stares at it, so he doesn’t have to look at Palpatine. “Yes, sir.” “Such inadequacy is, of course, unacceptable, Commander, as I’m sure you’re aware. I really had hoped it would not come to this, you understand.” Liar, Fox thinks. You love this. “But there is only one way to learn, and that is through experiencing consequences of your actions. Perhaps next time you will not take your sworn duty so lightly, hmm?” “Yes, sir.” “Draw your blaster, please, Commander.” Fox blinks and, in his surprise, breaks his stillness to turn his head to face Palpatine properly. “…Sir?” “Must I repeat myself twice? Draw your blaster from your holster.” Slowly, Fox draws. He wonders if this is some sort of test, if he’s going to be punished further for making his weapon naked in front of the Supreme Chancellor of the entire fucking Republic. (In the light of the dusk spilling through the window into the opulent office, Palpatine’s eyes seem almost gold. It is for but a brief moment, just the rays of the fat sun catching oddly, and then they return to that sharp, ice-chip grey like nothing at all happened.) “Good,” says Palpatine, and smiles again. Like this, he looks like some natborn’s father’s father—grandfather, he believes the term is—all benevolent wrinkles and knowing looks. “Set it to kill.” Fox sets it to kill. It is not a difficult thing. He is just as much a weapon as the blaster in his hands, well-oiled, clean, smooth. Efficient. He was designed for this. It is easier to follow orders mindlessly; his brain, like all their brains (except, perhaps, Kote’s, but Kote’s a little fucked up and is an outlier for everything else, anyway), is primed for command, made to obey. A perfect, thoughtless gun, with just enough ruthlessness and self-determination to set them apart from the CIS’ droids. That’s the idea, anyway. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time the Kaminoans failed in the execution of something. “Turn around, Commander,” Palpatine murmurs, words soft and smooth and rich as the heavy velvet-fabric from his home planet that he has all his clothes cut from. “And fire at will.”

rbs deeply appreciated :]

[xisanamii]

i've attained a level of "canon divergence within canon divergence" . anyway under the read more is a mini script i wrote for this situation cuz they all nerds

Liu Wei: A-Xiang, what is thee doing here? Did Coach not task you with greeting the rest of Kaijo's team? Erika: I did that already. (turning to Himuro) Otome-senpai, here. Himuro: Hm? Erika: (hands him a stack of letters) Himuro: Ah, sorry for the trouble. Erika: (shrugs) Better than having them disturb practice. Himuro: I do feel bad about troubling you all the time with this. Erika: I mean, it's not like you haven't tried cleaning your locker out I assume. Moriyama: (pokes his head in) Locker? Liu Wei: (glances down) The locker of Himuro shall always be filled with the pinings of those who have fallen into the trap of love. Moriyama: !!! Himuro: (having a bad feeling of deja vu) Well, Erika-chan, maybe we should meet Coach-- Moriyama: Himuro-san! Hold on a minute! Himuro: ... yes? Moriyama: You never told me that you get love letters every day! Himuro: (sighs) Erika: (raises an eyebrow) You know him? Himuro: Know is a strong word. Liu Wei: (shaking head) Truly, it is an endeavor one must strive to achieve. That thee's lockers are this full to the point that A-Xiang shall be acting as a messenger. Moriyama: (gasp) Those girls are so dedicated that they'd sneak into into the boys' locker room?! Erika: (snorts in amusement) Himuro: Wha -- no, Yosen has school lockers, like the ones in America. Liu Wei: After all, we shall be pining for the intermingling of cultures, and a Western-style architecture and education in the coldest regions of Akita. Erika: He has two lockers, mind you. One like the ones in America, and the getabako. Both are always stuffed to the brim with letters. Himuro: (mutters) It's not always-- Moriyama: (turning to Liu Wei) Liu! Liu Wei: (appears to have a moment of understanding) Himuro: E-- Moriyama & Liu Wei: (surrounds Himuro) Himuro: ?! Moriyama: Please teach us how to receive letters like you do!! Himuro: Why-- Moriyama: It has to be you! Sensei!!! When we last talked about this, you had nothing but wisdom for me! Liu Wei: Yes. It shall be the sin of selfishness should thee declare this to be an act of secrecy. Himuro: I really don't-- MoriLiu: PLZ!!!! Himuro: (helplessly smiling) Erika-chan, whenever you're done laughing, I'd love some help on fending them off. Erika: Love, hm? Like a love letter? Himuro: Th-- Erika: Your request may take a few days seeing as I'm backlogged on delivering your love letters. MoriLiu: Himuro-sensei!!! Himuro: (a deep, long, soulful sigh) How am I supposed to give advice about something I don't even want...

[oscarpiastriwdc]

charles missing every shot in the LA chvlog + oscar listing charles to round out his 5 player basketball team = random part 4 of the club!verse

“This one’s for you, baby,” Charles grins, face contorting into his idea of a wink. He points at Oscar, points at the net, and shoots the ball. It hits the backboard and pathetically falls to the floor.

[secret-origins-crossover]

fic updates

this fic is a crime on hell to write- aka it keeps getting increasingly longer and i'm pretending i know what i'm doing, but okay- i figured i could post an additional silly wip because i am slowly going insane from not being able to post still! (this fic is a mess but i love it sm- i haven't written in a little while, i'm trying here-)

oh phantoms and felines (wip)

Morning hit unexpectedly, a half-groan leaving his lips as he blearily sat upright and took in his surroundings. The hotel was definitely luxurious but honestly it felt a little too suffocating for Danny’s tastes- which of course, led to him trying to find something else to do. Jazz had heard from someone there was this little bakery somewhere close by; there was seemingly nothing happening, and well, he was growing frustrated with the silence. Of course, he couldn’t expect this place to be like Amity Park but it was too still- it felt too peaceful. 

Rounding the corner, he paused as the wafting scent of scones and macarons filled the air. Danny could feel his mouth water, as his stomach rumbled- he still had the secondary effects of jet lag and he needed something to eat. Not to mention, the bakery was clearly well taken care of and looked like those made-from-scratch diners he recalled seeing back home.

[sketchywhale]

So it's just on the draft portion still, but you learn by doing. So here's a little snippit of something I thought of while reading Humphries' Nightwing Untouchable arc. It needs a lot more work done to it before I'm even happy in the slightest, but I'm hoping it will be done well and if nothing else, it's a good learning experience. And yes the cafe looks like garbage, I think the last time I tried to do an actual background in any kind of art was around 10 years ago.

[destiny-in-the-universe]

I don’t remember if this is canon but it is now.

HC that Randy owns a bike. That’s it. That’s the post.

[byanyan]

what if... what if i did a starter call, but it's for all my verses except for main... 🤔

[abyssmalice]

(something something in the pgr hole again and thinking of pgr verses for my tonitonis something something but just one muse and their one au already eats my entire brain something something but its still so fun to consider what that verse would look like something)

[fulgurbugs]

got my missing 2 pets today and while i was cleaning i found aris which i knew was in the mess somewhere lol. this is basically complete for the original 4 novi stars and i’m very happy with display now with miku and zooey also filling up some space :P

[princepipper]

you know, these characters being de-oncelerization is way better tbh 😭 they get their own backstories and own different names. Before I even knew that they got de-oncelerization, I always saw them as just different characters because of different facial features and different personalities that they had. I honestly disliked how some people kept tagging the “Onceler ” tag even how many times the mods said not to

HAH, yeah, it's definitely more interesting when things are not held down by a preset universe/ based on an existing character. And yes, people still tagging things as Lorax or Once-ler can be irritating, but tbh I think most mods have learned to let it go for the most part because to the majority of fans, the OCs did start as Once-lers, so it can be hard to remember for some folks.

That said if I were a mod and worked really hard to make a cool OC and someone TO THIS DAY still called them a fandom character I think I'd go off a little HAHA...

[purpleturtle9000]

Five years after Usagi dies, in what’s left of a world overrun by Krang, Leonardo finally has a dream about him. It doesn’t hurt as much as he always thought it would.