#we had more but i forgor

[plaidpyjamas]

Ok so Jorah Mormont is 100% a paladin, probably an oathbreaker

Arya is a fighter

I can see Ned as a paladin too

[daydreamycrustacean]

ok but actually it was so funny when simon was like "I wonder what life would have been like if I never found the crown, if I had put aside my passion for looking for highly cursed ancient artifacts" girl you and betty would have both died at war.

[kira-loves0905]

"are you looking at somewhere I can't see?"

snapping out of your stupor, your footsteps were quick to turn as you saw Zayne approaching your figure. his eyes were drone onto you, then at the window.

"...it's nothing."

"clearly," he drawls, caging you in by the glass. his voice was gentle, but there was a certain tilt to it that made you straighten up.

"there's a cloaked man outside. is he an enemy, perhaps?"

"I don't know him." you reply, "I was just zoning out."

"if you say so." Zayne presses a chaste kiss on your lips, smiling as he sees a prominent blush. "now come, I made us something."

"I'll be right there, let me just..." you gesture to your desk, which was quite messy with books strewn about.

"better hurry, or I'll eat all of the sweets."

"you'd never." you laughed. knowing Zayne would always give you the first bite.

as he went out of your room. your gaze flits over outside the window again. your heart thumping loud by your ears. a gut feeling that seemingly unable to be washed away.

there he is. the cloaked man you've been staring at for minutes now. his figure was just as imposing as the man inside your home, their face covered in a black mask.

then, he lifts one of his hands. dangling up a necklace that made your eyes squint as you tried to see it clear from your balcony.

a dogtag and an apple.

"C..Caleb?"

your body moves before your mind does. running out of the house, ignoring the surprise call of your lover as you franctically search at your terrace.

none. as if the cloaked man wasn't there in the first place.

as Zayne calls your name. you turned back around, smiling to reassure him that everything was alright.

"I must be tired, I thought I saw a Wanderer."

as you went back to your house— your steps were shaky, mind lulled in a haze as you kept looking back over your shoulder. in hopes to see the man you had once mourn for.

when you glance back up at your man, your heart doesn't just beat like it always used to moments ago.

it starts to yearn for another.

[thedrotter]

average minecraft gameplay of elementary school kids (+the og doodle of it I did like. months ago)

[luigixfanxayjay]

i finally did it.

after almost 60 entire hours of gameplay... and numerous mental breakdowns...

i completed brothership. and BOY do i have far too many thoughts.

some thoughts and game review in tags (SPOILER WARNING AHEAD)

[jackroach-does-theories]

so we all agree that misha is almost certainly mikhail's grandson, yes?

they're probably gonna confirm that in 2.2 update, like there's no way he isn't, there's just too much there to ignore. But what if I take this a step further. what if i went a little insane over what might just be a tiny insignificant coincidence and created the craziest bullshit ever

i don't know how to explain this one but something something honkaiverse imaginary tree and stellarons are basically just star rail's version of honkai energy, welt keeps being haunted by ghosts of his past so why not einsla next, and also this is connected to genshin lore somehow idk how exactly but it is, maybe watchmaker is the second descender or something maybe teyvat is a dreamscape like penacony is idk idegaf nothing is real anymore . TLDR einstein is misha's mom (Real and not copium)

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 15: Childhood Trauma

Moment of Clarity

1649 Words; Runaways AU, pre-canon

TW for mentions of death

AO3 ver

Cole was sketching again.

He did it every so often, though he’d never let Lloyd see his sketchbook, despite Lloyd’s best puppy dog eyes. But that was fine—Lloyd knew where Cole put the sketchbook in his bag, and had already gone through it once. It was more about the principle of the thing, really—if Cole willingly let Lloyd look, then he probably wasn’t about to abandon Lloyd.

But Cole had refused to show off the sketchbook tonight, so Lloyd had subsided into watching the firewood slowly burn to ash. His sleeping bag was still rolled up behind him; Cole was sitting cross-legged on his. It was probably fine, though; Cole had shown no inclination to ditching Lloyd. Yet.

But it was important to keep track of, Lloyd knew. He wasn’t stupid, okay? He knew he was difficult. And he knew that being the son of an evil warlord tended to put most people off. He was loud and disruptive and had too-red eyes and little bumps on his head just barely hidden by his hair. Lloyd knew that he was easy to abandon and run away from, because everyone in his life had done it at some point. His own mother hadn’t even wanted him!

Speaking of…

“Why are you out on your own, anyway?” Lloyd asked. He had technically asked a question kind of like it, when he and Cole had initially met, and Cole’s response at the time had been a simple “none of your business.” But they’d known each other a while, now, and Cole seemed intent on keeping his promise—though Lloyd couldn’t fully trust that, not now, not ever—so maybe… Cole might open up?

Lloyd was horribly curious—it was something of a curse. And he had found an old school ID when he looked at Cole’s sketchbook, though it was wayyy different from the ones Darkley’s used and not a name Lloyd recognized.

Cole hmmed, shoulders hunching as he focused in on the page before him. “Ran away.” He grunted. Lloyd waited a moment longer for Cole to elaborate, but he didn’t.

So Lloyd opened his own mouth. “Was it from that school? The uh…” What was the name again? “Marty Oppen… Open…. that school?”

Cole was looking at Lloyd now, something like suspicion in his eyes and red on his cheeks. “How do you know about—” He cut himself off with a huff. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter.”

“So you did!” Lloyd concluded, pleased. “Was it a boarding school? Was it bigger than Darkley’s? How mean were the teachers? What were they teaching?” He imagined Cole in a classroom much like the science lab at Darkley’s, an evil death ray on the table before him. Just as quickly as it came, the image went away—Lloyd had seen Cole’s drawings. Death ray designs just didn’t fit him.

Cole blinked owlishly at the onslaught of questions. “Uh… yes; I don’t know, I’ve never been to Darkley’s; maybe? They were really stuffy, and—” His shoulders drew in again, expression shifty. “I’m not answering that last question.”

“What!” Lloyd gasped, laying down on the dirt and propping his face up on his hands. “But you gotta! I mean,” he added, as convincingly as he could, “You know what Darkley’s teaches, so why can’t I know what Marty Open-hemmer’s teaches? It’s only fair.”

“I’ll tell you the moment you can say the name right.” Cole promised, though it sounded an awful lot like a joke.

“How is it said?” Lloyd probed, folding his arms and resting his chin on them. From down here, with the fire between them to the side, Cole looked almost unreal, the flickering light dancing across his face.

“Ma—” Cole started, only to stop as he realized. “You’re not getting me that easy, you little shit.”

“It was worth a try.” Lloyd shrugged, lightly kicking the dirt.

Silence filled their little camp, the fire and the gentle scritch-scratch of Cole’s pencil the only real sound.

Lloyd rolled over, staring up at the darkened sky above, at the tiny embers rising from the fire, at the twinkling stars and the clouds that covered them. It was a half moon tonight. He had no idea how Cole was drawing with just the light from the fire—which probably explained all the little frustrated noises Cole was making.

Something else occurred to Lloyd. Something Cole did at—well, not every town, but often enough to be just another part of their routine. Lloyd sat up, looked at Cole, and spoke.

“Who are you sending those letters to?” Lloyd folded his knees in to rest his chin on them as he watched Cole put his sketchbook away.

Cole jolted, staring at Lloyd for a moment. His jaw worked as he considered Lloyd’s question, several emotions Lloyd wasn’t sure how to parse flitting across his face. “My dad.” He said, softly.

“Oh.” Lloyd’s own father hadn’t really… from what Lloyd knew, nobody had actually seen Lord Garmadon for years. His father had sent his shadow to visit Lloyd at Darkley’s, on rare occasion, but Lloyd otherwise hadn’t met his dad. “Do you and your dad… get along?”

Cole made a sound halfway between an amused snort and annoyed sigh. “He doesn’t know where I am.” He admitted, which wasn’t really an answer. “He doesn’t know I’m running around with the world’s most annoying gremlin—” He cut himself off. “He thinks I’m still at Mar—that school.”

That… Lloyd thought back to his own parents. His own dad probably didn’t know he wasn’t at Darkley’s anymore—he hadn’t sent his shadow to visit Lloyd at all. And his mother…

Well, at least Cole knew what his father thought of him.

“What about your mom?” Lloyd asked, suddenly not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

Cole looked stricken, for a moment, before his expression turned thunderous. He glared at the fire, mouth drawn back in what might have been a snarl or what might have been a grimace. “She’s…” He swallowed. “She died less than a year ago.”

“Oh.” Lloyd cringed against his knees. “Sorry.” He hadn’t meant to upset Cole—

“‘S not your fault.” Cole muttered, voice tired. He laid back, staring up at the sky.

“Is that why your dad doesn’t know where you are?” Lloyd asked, then immediately cringed because why was he still talking, didn’t he know how to shut up—

Cole laughed, harsh and grim. “Ohhhh, don’t get me started! Mom’s gone, and all he ever does is go out and sing and dance and it falls to me to be responsible for everything, because first master forbid he stick around to tend to the garden or wash the dishes or do the laundry or—” He cut himself off, throwing his arm over his face as he made a drawn out sort of groan, sounding so shaky compared to usual. “And then he packs me up and sends me off to go to school and follow in his footsteps, like he wasn’t already pushing me hard enough—I don’t want to sing or dance! I’m never going to be what you want me to be!”

Lloyd shrunk back a bit. That was… a lot. Like, more than he felt able to unpack. But, wait—

“Sing or dance?” Lloyd asked, suddenly struck with a strong suspicion as to what that Marty school was for. “Is that what you went to Marty’s for?” He grinned, a giggle in his voice as he tried to imagine what that’d even look like.

“Shut up.” Cole groused, which only made Lloyd actually giggle. Cole groaned his annoyance to the sky, and Lloyd hid his mouth behind his hands as he imagined Cole in a tutu.

Cole sat up so suddenly that Lloyd squeaked, his laughter dissolving into worry. But Cole didn’t move any further, instead fixing Lloyd with a peculiar stare that was almost uncomfortable in its intensity.

“You don’t have to follow in your dad’s footsteps. You know that, right?” He asked, and Lloyd found, not for the first, third, or sixth time, that Cole could still say things that absolutely boggled him. “Everyone that treats you like shit because of your dad, but they’re wrong.” Cole said it with such conviction—it was almost enough for Lloyd to believe it.

“You’re not your dad.” Cole added. “You’re you.” His piece said, he laid back down, kicking dirt onto the fire and shuffling so that he was actually in his sleeping bag instead of on top of it.

Lloyd frowned. Well, he knew he was an awful warlord—he’d known it since before Darkley’s kicked him out for being a failure at evil. So it wasn’t like he would’ve been able to follow in his father’s footsteps anyway.

But the rest of Cole’s words… all his life, Lloyd had been defined by his father. His mother had left him at Darkley’s, where Lloyd’s parentage had been all that anyone cared about. His teachers had higher expectations for him, and were all the more disappointed when Lloyd couldn’t meet them. And when he and Cole asked around for someone who could take him in, it was his too-red eyes and too-sharp teeth and too-warlordy last name that made everyone close their doors in his face.

Lloyd huffed. Suuure, Cole could just run away and escape being what his father wanted, could become just another nameless kid wandering Ninjago, but Lloyd?

Lloyd grumbled as he grabbed at his sleeping bag to unfold it for the night. Nobody would see him as anything more than Lord Garmadon’s obnoxious son. Nobody but Cole, who Lloyd still wasn’t totally convinced didn’t hate him at least a little.

Lloyd Garmadon would always be tied to Lord Garmadon, but could never be anywhere half as great—or notorious. What Cole said was a nice sentiment, but it just wasn’t true. Not in the way Cole meant it.

Lloyd would never be out of his father’s shadow.

[b4kuch1n]

frog documentation. frogcumentation

I think I mentioned a while back I'd post nibling frog momence after the gift's done given. which happened on the 2nd this month I just forgot lmao. anyways we can do it now. I used the boigameista pattern scaled up to four pieces of A4 print paper and decided to double deck it to a two layer thing, not unlike a pillow, for ease of washin. because it was gonna be gifted to a one year old child

took a long time and made a number of mistakes bc hand sewing makes me worse as a person but this guy was done in time for the birthday occasion and that's what matters. chose non-fuzzy fabrics for it because we live in a dense city in the tropics and from personal experience if I hug something made of fur I would explode. the original plan included felt patterns on its back for bonus textures for baby but that wouldn't stretch well along with the rest of the thing so had to hold that back. eventually we got this

zipper across its ass, the coat type of zipper bc I miscalculated when ordering. but it did have a shape and that's all that matters to me. will be a fun game for the baby to grow up and be severely misinformed about what a frog looks like

happy extremely late birthday to this thing also

[unimaginativebepisenjoyer99]

the satrinyavas

[dukeofthomas]

Worst flashback/panic attack/whatever the fuck i've had in years how can i project this on jason

[skunkes]

I'm v curious abt Talon's mesoamerican origins and evolution in general how does his accent sound when written out? after such a long life what is the strongest vestige of those times he has (aside from physical features and so on). I can't believe some rando bloodsucker colonized my boy

I have no idea what his accent wld sound like as the few videos i cld find of people speaking his original language, are, of course, mainly spanish speakers! And I can sometimes hear the difference in spanish as they switch between the 2 while being interviewed but i struggle to mentally transplant that as to how it'd sound in English ykwim 😭 there's also the fact that its the modern language spoken by them so it has evolved alongside and borrows from spanish anyway, by those who still speak it and speak both Today

Im actually still zeroing in on fleshing out more of that lore, since I can't find too much info on the specific culture i envision for him, it may really just have to be "fantasy culture INSPIRED by the people" instead, so i dont completely botch actual historical info 😮‍💨 either that or go very vague off of the info available

[aromanticannibal]

The pattern is that people straight up do not read™. or they read a 3-5 tweet summary of what happened and treat it as if they did. or because shonen expectations based on "the classics" is bullshit and significantly rotted people's brains when deciding wether an ending is good or not.

Which could be nothing right

yeahhh. i will forever regret reading the last chapter through leaks because it was a dreadful experience, and watching everyone ever shit on it for like a week after genuinely made me want to just get off the internet forever or something because i felt like an idiot for liking the ending (all this is my fault for getting too invested in both tumblr and mha etc etc).

All the "it's rushed" and pacing complaints barely matter to me at this point because you just cannot feel the pacing of something correctly when you're reading it exclusively through leaks. you can't absorb info like that. And don't get me started on the number of complaints and criticisms I've seen of the last chapter that are just provably bullshit (I saw someone say Izuku didn't get a statue lmao. yes he did, you just read the fucking leaks and watched twitter drama unfold instead of reading the actual chapter i fear).

[allgremlinart]

my god these drugs is crazy

[widowshill]

i dont expect the writers to remember their own show but why didn't roger visit vicki in the hospital when she wrecked a car

[cemetery-baccanal]

passing out for six hours after the black butler inspired birthday picnic was not on the docket but i cannot be mad about it.

[sinestrosmind]

A Chance to Say Goodbye

Summary: Tony Stark, ever the futurist, had put a hidden protocol behind Flame's Pack Rally Protocol. When Pack Rally is activated, this hidden protocol, the Recovery Protocol, is activated. And as per protocol, Alpha aided in carrying it out.

Flame has followed Alpha's guidance, had led her through finding the pieces and putting together the heart of the Recovery Protocol. Now, she receives a final message from the late Tony Stark, has a chance to say goodbye, and finally meets Recovery.

Warnings: Endgame spoilers, Grieving

Characters: Tony Stark (Hologram), Flame Copps

Wordcount: 1,674

"Hey Flame," the recorded hologram greeted with his hands tucked into his pockets. "Welcome to the Recovery Protocol. If you're seeing this, best case scenario you broke in or stumbled upon this. I hope it is. God, I hope-…" He trailed off, a hand raising to cover his mouth as he looked away and to the ground as he normally does when he was in deep thought. His mood was quick to change, though, lowering his hand and his eyes falling back onto the general direction of Flame as he quickly picked back up his previous, normal, somewhat playful yet firm tone. "If it is, turn this recording off now, now's not the time and you don't need to worry about the future. Leave that to me."

There was a pause as the recording of Tony thought. "But," he began, the playfulness of his usual tone being replaced by a sadness. "Worst case scenario, you followed the instructions I left you- built the suit, installed the AI for it, watching a hologram recording of me explain this all to you. Which means I'm dead- or presumed dead. Or in a coma." He was rambling, which he usually did when he was stressed or had something on his mind. "-Just, something happened to me to engage A.L.P.H.A.'s Recovery Protocol, leading you here."

Tony sighs, raising a hand to scratch the back of his head as he took a couple steps across the front of the room he was in when he recorded the message. "You probably haven't flown in a while," he says, a sadness still to his tone. "Either too busy or too depressed- or too busy being depressed." Tony clearly was trying to cheer Flame up with a little joke, as his normal tone had somewhat come back, but it was quick to fade again with his next words.

"That's fine, really," he reassures with a nod, looking to the general direction of Flame again. "You'll get back in the air when you're ready," he continues. "And hopefully technically-not-me me will be by your side, just like how you and I used to fly." There's a pain in his voice, and clear in his eyes even in the holographic recording.

"He's, really just a glorified sentinel robot, if I'm being honest," Tony explains, beginning to ramble again. "Nobody can wear him, don't have to worry about anyone putting him on and flying off in him. Don't have to worry about anyone stealing him either, he can fight," he says with a shrug.

There was a pause for a few moments before Tony began speaking again. "Y'know, I just realized," Tony says with a sharp turn and a couple steps across back where he started when the recording began. "You're probably pacing around him- curious, maybe a little weary, definitely wide eyed, just like when we met." Tony was right, he was generally always right. Flame wasn't surprised at all that he was right.

"Or," Tony began again. "You've locked onto hologram me and haven't moved since this started, and I really don't blame you." Another attempt at a joke, the life back in his voice, and it did get Flame to crack a smile. "If you're pacing," Tony quickly continues. "You probably have noticed how he always turns to face you, how when you turn and switch directions his head follows, like he's studying, learning, calculating." As Tony speaks, he's gesturing to the Iron Man suit that is projecting the recorded message.

"There was really only so much I could do before I ran out of time to work on him," Tony explains. "I got the important stuff. The personality, I absolutely had to get the voice synthesizer working, you always said you enjoyed hearing me talk so I just had to get it right." As he was listing off and explaining, Tony had been wandering a bit, his back now to Flame- or where she would be if she was sitting still. "I think I did okay," he begins, quickly as he turns around to face the way he was originally again, hands out of his pockets and open, palms facing Flame as if he was explaining or introducing something. "But it doesn't really matter what I think. It only matters what you think." Tony says, hands ending up back in his pockets again.

"I made sure to add major memories of us," he starts, turning to look at the Iron Man suit beside him. "The dates, working on our best suits, and things you like, a lot- among other general major memories, like the… New York thing. All of it I uploaded into his databanks. Maybe then he could really connect with you and help you." Tony sounds worried and hurt again as he stares the suit down. "He's got all my schematics, all my plans, all that I've ever written down or recorded in my personal files or in any Stark Industries files. He can build anything you want him to, just like I could." Of course he would, he wouldn't leave Flame of all people flying in the dark. Alone.

"Make sure to watch those recordings of all my tests on my suits I did when I first started, I think you'll like them- especially if you're feeling down." There's a forced playfulness to Tony's voice now, Flame can hear it. He's hurting just as much as she is, he's just able to hide it.

"And, hey," Tony starts, kneeling down to be closer to eye level with Flame. He knew she'd be on the floor, he had to, the holographic recording of him is looking right at her, right in her eyes. "Flame," his tone was soft, kind, hurt. "It's okay," he reassures. "I know how you are; you probably fought yourself to exhaustion and then some and you were unable to say goodbye to me. Or they wouldn't let you into the hospital to see me one last time." Tony pauses for a moment, letting Flame breathe and trying to collect himself. He didn't have to fully hide with Flame.

"It's okay, Flame." he says, voice pained and hushed. "It's okay." He gives Flame a reassuring nod and time to breathe again. "Now's your chance to say goodbye."

Flame takes time to catch her breath, trying to control her breathing, trying to steady herself so she can speak. It seems Tony had planned for this as well, he moves to sitting instead of kneeling now, and it seems he's waiting.

It's a few good minutes before Flame is able to compose herself enough to move closer to the holographic recording, and she waits. She waits for his wandering eyes to settle, and once she and the recording of Tony lock eyes, Flame almost breaks again. She holds strong, though, and gives a deep sigh with a nod.

"Goodbye Tony," Flame nearly whispers, voice hoarse and weak. She bows her head and closes her eyes, leaning towards the hologram for comfort as if it were really Tony there as tears begin to fall again. Though, the somewhat familiar faint hum was quickly replaced with silence, and then just as quickly replaced with an all too familiar voice.

"Well hello to you too, Flame," the "glorified sentinel robot" greeted with a more playful version of Tony's normal tone of voice. In his exact voice- only as if he were within the suit. Flame stared up at the suit, tired eyes wide. The suit simply stared at her for a moment before speaking and moving again.

"Alright, c'mon, hey," the suit began as he knelt down and wiped away a stray tear from Flame's face. "No more tears. Time for sleep." He told her, standing and nudging her shoulder to move the way he wants her to. She complied, though reluctantly, having no strength or will left to put up a good fight. "Come on," he urged her again, staying by her side and resting a hand on her shoulder. "You know that I know that you know I know you haven't slept right since Tony died, time for bed." The suit left Flame's side after speaking and giving her a pat on the shoulder, walking ahead towards the pile of blankets in the corner of the workshop.

Flame slowed to a stop as the suit tossed the few topmost blankets out of the way, revealing Flame's little "den" underneath. He then promptly sat down in the dip in the blankets and looked to Flame, seemingly expecting something from her judging by his posture and the small "well?" gesture he had made with his hands.

The feline's gaze fell to the floor, one ear locked onto the suit as he spoke up once again. "If you don't get to sleep on your own within an hour of Tony's message being completed the first time, he's programmed me to give you a dose of melatonin." He told her bluntly, Flame knew by his tone and body language that if he had a face that could emote, he'd likely look bored but worried. "Come here."

Flame's gaze fell upon the suit again as she took heavy, slow steps foreward. "What do I call you?" She asked as she neared, voice a whisper now. She gave him a confused look as he shrugged and reached out for her.

"I'm called "Recovery" in all my files," the suit began, gently pulling Flame in close and covering her up with the uppermost blankets like she likes. "But Tony programmed me to respond to anything you want to call me."

Flame nodded as she settled and tucked herself closer to the suit, resting her head on his chest. A weakened purr rose in her own, finding comfort in the familiar weight from the blankets on her back, as well as the arm wrapped around her and the soft, gentle hum of the arc reactor powering the suit.

Within the hour, Flame had fallen asleep and Recovery seemed to have followed her lead in his own way.