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fioreofthemarch · 10 months

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repast

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Pairing: Link/Zelda Words: 880 [✨read the oneshot's two companion pieces: yearnings and kin]

The first thing Link began to wonder about the Light Dragon – once his tears for her ran dry and his grief made room for a growing curiosity – was whether she ever got hungry.

In her previous life, she’d had a utilitarian relationship with food. Link had cooked all manner of dishes for her, and each one she would eat in a straight-forward, disciplined manner, dutifully setting about tidying up once she was done. If he asked what her favourite meal was, she’d say, ‘All of them!’

Now, it was possible that dragons didn’t need to eat. Immortality, its terribleness aside, probably had benefits like that. The question was, would they want to?

Link hadn’t paid the Light Dragon much mind during his travels. Dragons seemed to be ten a rupee these days, arising out of chasms, swimming over villages, winding through canyons and so on. Now that he had learned who the Light Dragon really was – telling himself he’d known for a long time to muffle the anguished guilt he felt at not having known right away – he had begun to track her movements. Occasionally, she would break her kingdom-spanning flight path to spend a few hours circling the skyward Temple of Time. It was there that he waited for her now.

“Zelda, I’ve come to make your favourite,” he called up to the Light Dragon from the roof of the temple, unsure if she’d heard. Undeterred, he set up a cookpot and began, sauteeing a dozen apples in a hefty amount of goat butter – this being the only meal Zelda had ever requested of him, maybe two winters ago on a freezing evening camped somewhere in Hebra. She’d said if she had one wish, it’d be a hot buttered apple, and with pride Link had made that wish come true.

At first, the Light Dragon didn’t seem to notice him. He considered hitting her with an apple-fused arrow to get her attention, but was worried he’d discover, in retaliation, that dragons had a taste for humans. Over the course of an hour however, she circled lower and lower towards the temple and the cookpot, until she gently touched down, her body wound around the outer perimeter of the roof. She rested her head by the cookpot, a huge bright eye fixed directly on Link. He froze, unsure if she was really in there, and also what the proper etiquette would be when dining with a dragon. As if in answer, she sniffed at the pot of apples. Taking one in hand, Link offered it slowly out to her; she sniffed it again and opened her mouth just enough for him to push the apple between her teeth. In astonishment Link watched as the otherworldly creature munched carefully on the apple and opened her toothy jaws for a second.

Half a dozen more he fed her this way and each one she ate faster, opening her mouth wider to demand more. By now the supply of savoury-sweet apples was running low. “I’ve only got a couple left, Zelda, but I can come back—”

Chomp! The Light Dragon snapped its jaws down around the cook pot, sending apples flying in all directions. Link reached up and grabbed the edge of the pot, trying to yank it free. “Stop! You can’t eat this! Let go!”

Then he was falling, relinquished from the Light Dragon’s teeth when she roared, and he landed on the gravel just before the cookpot landed on him. He cried out in pain, and in response the Light Dragon recoiled, drawing up into herself, the roof shingles crunching under her claws.

Dusting himself off, Link set about collecting the apples, finding them flung across the roof and soiled with gravel. With a sigh, he prepared to throw them into the cooking fire when, at his side, something soft nudged his arm. The Light Dragon, or Zelda, or whatever mix of the two she was, tapped him with the very tip of her snout, having crept back towards him. In Link’s hand was the final apple, mostly intact. The Light Dragon nudged him again, making a low rumbling noise, barely more than a whine.

“It’s okay, apology accepted,” Link said. “Glad you still like my cooking, old girl.”

Then, the idea coming upon him with a laugh, Link threw the apple as high as he could. There was a tornado of rushing air and dust as the Light Dragon soared upwards, unwrapping herself from temple and launching herself in pursuit of the apple, which she caught with a swift snap of her jaws. Her prize seized, she descended again to fly past Link, so fast he could barely touch her, before rising into the sky and out of reach. Her way of saying thank you, he supposed.

Later on, returning to the surface and Demon King-shaped task at hand, Link would horde apples by the dozen and spend even his last rupee on goat butter whenever he stopped by a town. From then, he knew that if his grief struck stronger than he could handle, he could return to the Temple of Time with as many apples as he could carry, and dine with Zelda again - just like they once had, in times gone by.

#zelink #totk #tears of the kingdom #link #zelda #light dragon #totk spoilers #this came to me basically in a dream and would not let go until I got it out of my system #my writing #i truly had no clue what to call this I dont do oneshots LOL #marble skies

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ride-a-dromedary · 7 months

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You're not a doppelganger, are you? Trying to study me, learn all my secrets so you can take my place?

#Baldur's Gate 3 #bg3edit #bg3 spoilers #Halsin #otheredits #blood tw #what would even be the tw tag for this? implied child endangerment? (that didn't happen)?#imprisonment tw #doppelganger tw #my stuff #hey you wanna see something that makes me really sad - there you go - yes i spent several hours on this what of it #hey fanficcers - I need someone to write a halsin centric thing with the line 'I do not deserve to see the sun again' crossing his mind #whether that be from his time with the drow or after the shadow curse - please i need #orin's imitations of the companions she kidnaps are always slightly off (obviously) but the gal uses the *exact right pressure points*#where it's like...it almost feels as if we get a peek into the reality of their thoughts #is it SUPPOSED to come off that way? no clue - but that's how i read it #that bit about the shadow curse applies in my mind because as is based in implication #halsin had to leave the wounded behind while he rescued survivors - you don't think those screams echo in his head #every single night?#and halsin not thinking he deserves seeing the sun? because of all the godforsaken things *he* was the one left from that tragedy?#yeah #also what in the dragon age origins is the lighting of this scene #was gonna make another gifset but this took me four hours lol

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bongo-clash · 2 years

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Peacock Au Part 2

Okay so!!! Part two of this post about the DPxDC eldritch Danny fic that I'm now calling the peacock au lmao!!!!

(Chapter two of the fic under the cut) (Edit: You can now find part 3 Here!!!)

When the feeling of being just slightly dispersed settles onto the outer layer of his skin while he’s lying in bed, Danny knows what’s about to happen.

The thing is, he’s in his pyjamas. Sure, he could just stay in his human form for the summoning- because he’s done it before and it went fine- but he never knows who it’s going to be, and being spirited away to some college students’ dorm in his pyjamas is embarrassing. And sure, having something appear in the circle in the first place is probably enough that they’re not paying attention to what he’s wearing either way, but he refuses to bank on that. So, with a sigh, he allows himself the transformation, his human appearance falling easily away.

It always feels more natural to be a ghost during rituals, probably because they’re summoning a ghost and not a human, but still, it’s different. He feels that little bit looser, maybe even a little more himself, though he guesses being a bit more glow-y is just nice generally, and the space decals that tend pop up as part of his whole light-show-summons are a homely touch. On the other hand, it does make it harder to take stock of his surroundings when he finally fades into view wherever he is. He can make out vague grey walls and floors, but that’s about it.

Well, that and the man in front of him. Blond, taller than him if he wasn’t in the air, somewhere past his forties, wearing a beige trenchcoat and looking oddly terrified. Danny can see his hands shaking just a little. Does he know this guy from somewhere?

“Uh, dude?” Danny calls, going for something light. It’s annoying being dragged from the comfort of his own home, definitely, but this guy doesn’t look like some cult member, and if he’s alone and this scared it might mean he really needs the help. Danny can sympathise with doing stupid things in stupid situations. “You good? You’re not looking too hot there.”

He knows he’s using ghost speak, but it feels weird to use English in a summoning like this, and fortunately, Danny spies a translation sigil wrapped around the inner centre of the circle, so he knows it should be translating right back to the guy in front of him. Very handy for language barriers, he’ll admit- and it’s working, too, if the reply is any indication.

“I was told you could- you could help with the pits?”

His voice is gravelly, and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s nervous, doesn’t speak much, a smoker, or all three. Either way, probably not Danny’s business, and right now he’s just curious about what the man’s talking about. “Pits? That’s kinda vague, man. What pits?”

“The Lazarus pits to, uh, to be specific. There’s a huge one cropping up under Gotham that’s not supposed to be there, and the local- I mean, the locals are getting antsy about it. I… heard you could take care of ‘em.”

Lazarus Pits. He’s heard of those, Clockwork’s mentioned them a couple of times. They’re natural portals that open when enough energy is built up, and end up stabilising into the ground instead of collapsing to help seep ambient ectoplasm into the air. They don’t work as actual portals after that, but it’s vital to keep at least a few around no matter how corrupted they can get through human interference, because it keeps the balance of both realms steady. Having too many around isn’t a good thing, though, and especially not in populated areas. It can cause ecto-contamination, which is a lot more dangerous when you haven’t been around it since birth (or if you aren’t from Amity).

Speaking of which, it certainly is stinking up the place, now that he’s aware of it. Or maybe that’s just Gotham, he’s heard a lot about-

Hang on. Gotham. Weird potentially magic dude. He knew he recognised him! That’s John Constantine! Danny’s heard of John Constantine! Sam’s got her fingers in enough credible occult spaces that they’re at least vaguely aware of some of his endeavours, but if he’s in Gotham then that probably means he’s doing something for the Batman and, wow, Danny totally would’ve tried to go more professional for this if he knew this was going to be his first encounter with the Justice League,of all things.

Well, he guesses it’s too late now. At least the guy’s not being too weird about it or anything. “Man, yeah, I’ve totally got the smell stuck up my nose now that you mention it. Do you get that as well? Since, y’know, you’ve probably dealt with a couple ghosts.”

“Uh… no, I don’t think so. But can you fix it?”

Dang, the guy seems stressed about this. Maybe he just doesn’t like being in Gotham territory? He’s pretty sure he’s heard of Batman having a thing about magic. “Sure I can.”

“…Will you fix it?”

Danny figures that if they already know about his status through his Zone maintenance duties, and he’s going to be helping the Justice League, he might as well show off a little bit. Assenting with a hum and trying not to grin, he puts his hands to the floor, and lets his ectoplasm reach out to the source of the smell, sending a flash of light across the ground as it goes through. When it twinges back a response, he closes his eyes, and his energy curls around it, threading through like needles to seams, and pushes it shut with a gentle nudge. Luckily, it hadn’t been around for too long- barely fully formed and not even corrupted by human contact yet- it would’ve be a lot more difficult if it had.

He lets his hands rise up again after a long moment, looking to Constantine for a reaction. He can’t quite gauge what the man is thinking. “Alrighty, that should’ve done it.”

“Uh… cheers?”

He’s about to say something along the lines of ‘no problem’ or ‘you’re welcome’, but then he remembers he should probably warn him about the aftermath so he doesn’t freak. “The pit shouldn’t come back again, but just as like, a PSA: you might see more shades than usual hovering around for the next while. It shouldn’t be too big a deal so long as you leave ‘em alone, though, so don’t worry about it.”

For all that Danny’s trying to be considerate here, Constantine doesn’t look very considerated. “Can I- uh, yeah, great advice. ‘Appreciate it. But, can I ask just, y’know, what you are? Or not.”

“…Dude, what d’you think I am?”He replies, thoroughly bemused. Isn’t this guy supposed to be one of the League’s paranormal experts or something? He really should be able to recognise a ghost by now. “I keep your Lazarus Pits in check. You know, the pits of the dead?”

Okay, maybe a little rude on his side, but he thinks Constantine’s expression is a bit of an overreaction; he can see the sheen of sweat across the man’s forehead reflecting the light of the sigils. “Fair enough! Forget I asked- cheers for sorting out that pit, though. Uh, don’t suppose you’ll just let me go on my way or anything now.”

“Well, I mean, this was a favour for Batman, right?” He asks blithely, pointedly not paying attention to the way the man’s face keeps contorting. He swears Sam said he was more stoic than this. “I’m gonna go- ‘cause I’ve got things to do- but I guess if something comes up I’ll come to you? Or Batman, since this is his city and all. Don’t worry, I’ll let you know.”

Figuring there’s nothing left to be said, Danny lets the return sigil on the edge of the circle activate and punt him back home, wheezing a half-sigh and arching his back once the wispy image of wherever they’d been recedes. He probably looks exhausted after all that- no matter how recently formed the pit was, it still takes a little strain, and he’d just been about to sleep before he got summoned- but looking in the mirror on his wall for confirmation, he doesn’t find his usual face. Something twinges against where his spine should be, confirming its own previously unnoticed presence in the mortal plane.

…He didn’t go ghost when Constantine summoned him, he used his true form. That must be why he looked so nervous that whole time! And, man, ghostspeak never translates over quite right in this form, either- the Ancients use a different dialect to original ghostspeak- the man probably wasn’t hearing what Danny thought he was at all. What if the only reason he wasn’t attacking was because he was terrified? What must Constantine have thought of him?

Crap. He has to fix this. How is he going to find him?

#Peppered in some of my own worldbuilding about ectoplasm/the pits in DC there but Still-#I just thought it'd be Really Funny if Danny had absolutely no clue what he was saying was coming across so terrifying #Like- sure he Can say that kind of ominous stuff on his own- but I think it'd be really great #If no one knew when it was a translation error or if he meant it #If there's any mistakes in the please be kind I forget how to read when I'm editing-#Chapter 3's already done so I should be posting that either tomorrow or the day after!!#It'll pretty much be the conclusion to this whole thing but I've been talking to Bones and she's got So Many cool ideas #That I really want to make a part 4 for because they're really fun!!!#Either way this has been really nice to do!!!#dp au #danny phantom au #dp fic #danny phantom fanfiction #dpxdc #danny fenton #danny phantom #Bongo's Aus!!!#Bongo's Writing!!!#peacock au

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little-pondhead · 10 months

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DPxDC Prompt:

[this is a long one please forgive me]

Bruce lied to the others about his trip through time. Not all of it! Just…one specific thing.

During the early parts of his timeline hijinks, before Tim realized Bruce was still alive, he had a bit of a respite in between his endless time jumps. (Maybe a certain ghost was helping him out.) With a fuzzy memory at best and a strange itch to investigate the unknown, Bruce had been taken in by an old couple who had no kids but wanted to pass on the family name. And who better than a thirty-something amnesiac stranger who could actually be related by blood?

Bruce, with nowhere to go, accepted his new name, grew out his hair, and quickly got accepted into college for engineering. There, he met two of his closest friends; a redheaded woman who could kick his ass and a wet chicken of a man who could also kick his ass. They both made him nostalgic for something he didn’t remember, and that made him sad sometimes, but the two were always there to cheer him up.

Years passed, and Bruce’s life moved on. He settled well into his new name, mourned his parents when the eventually passed, celebrated his wedding with the redhead, and grieved when the last of their trio fell out of touch. He had a daughter, and then a son! They were both so smart, even if they didn’t share the same passion he had for exploring the science behind the afterlife. (Something about the dead just itched his brain in an infuriating way, and Bruce wasn’t one to let sleeping dogs lie. He just had to find out why he was so obsessed with this stuff!)

Eventually, his and his wife’s research yielded results, and that’s when bits of Bruce’s former life started coming back to him. After the portal opened, he spent his days with his head in a fog, oblivious to the world around him as he struggled to continue his work.

Why did he remember a boy named Dick? Who would name their child that? And Jason…who was Jason? That name always made him sad. There were more names, more faces, but none of them were his. He could never remember what his name was supposed to be. All he had was the one his adoptive parents gave him.

His wife was worried. His daughter was struggling. And his son…his son sometimes hurt to look at. Bruce didn’t know why. He knew he was being a terrible father, but something in him wanted to cry whenever he gazed at those clear blue eyes, just like his own. His son was too smart for his own good, and realized his dad had started avoiding him.

The day his son purposely left the room so Bruce could relax was one that hurt him even now.

Time kept passing, and Bruce was becoming anxious. His brain fog was as bad as its ever been. He had constant headaches, and his hands kept twitching for nonexistent tools on his belt. Something was going to happen. Something had happened. A voice in his head told him it was all his fault.

So in an attempt to clear his head and spend more time with his family, Bruce insisted they all go to dinner at the local diner. His son invited his friends. Even better! More people meant more distractions from his messed-up thoughts. He wouldn’t spiral with the kids around.

And then something exploded.

The last thing Bruce remembered was his son’s (green??) eyes widening in fear and horror as something yanked him violently backwards. He fell farther than expected, through a portal and a green sky full of black stars. A hand tightened on the back of his jumpsuit, hauling his giant body through another portal with a roar of a motorcycle.

And then…and then…and then what?

All of a sudden, Bruce was sprawled in some mud in the middle of a forest, dizzy and coughing from the explosion’s fumes. He’s singed all over, and his ears still rang from the force of the…what happened again?

Bruce sits up, and all of a sudden, he’s in the era of the pilgrims. His memory has been wiped clean, his new name and family forgotten thanks to the hands of time. His adventures through the time stream continue, with him assuming many different identities throughout many different decades.

The memories of being Jack Fenton don’t return to him until he’s back in 2004, once again in his own time and living as Bruce Wayne. A glowing green sticky note informs him that “The Nasty Burger Incident” had just occurred. His “other self” just had his ass dragged to another era, so the time loop would continue.

It also informed him that he had an orphaned son crying for him at Bruce’s own grave.

Well, his forgotten son (that sounded bad, even to him) was supposed to be about fourteen now, right? Bruce hopes he doesn’t have to fight anyone for custody.

#pondhead blurbs #danny phantom #dpxdc #writing prompt #‘Alfred get the Guy’#‘you haven’t even left the house today’#‘my dad senses are tingling and I may need to fistfight another billionaire so have the Other Guy on standby as well’#Bruce becomes Jack Fenton #he went to college and literally built a life for himself at the same time ‘Bruce Wayne’ existed #‘Jack’ just never watched the news #clockwork had to make sure Danny existed so guess what! you’re the son of the bat happy birthday #the nasty burger incident happens but in the two seconds it took to kill everyone #Johnny 13 dragged his ass to another era #he was ordered to by clockwork #I have zero clue how old Bruce was during his timeline shenanigans and idk when it took place either #just work with me on this #please I am begging you #he only got his memories back when the time matches up with Jack Fenton’s ‘death’#Danny loses his dad and then gets him back in the span of 24 hours but now his dad is a billionaire??#well he gets to watch Bruce fistfight Vlad for custody and then stop him from killing clockwork #cause how DARE Clockwork just make him FORGET an entire family he had???#morally grey clockwork #Danny is trying really hard not to become Dan and Bruce is trying really hard to explain this to his other kids #‘no this one is ACTUALLY mine’#‘yes I know I was a teen in Europe when the wedding would have happened’#again don’t know the dc timeline just work with me here #please don’t ask me to continue this I will cry #if someone else does I’d be happy to read it though :))

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fluffy-little-demon · 10 months

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Birthday Love

Bo Sinclair x Fem!Reader

Fluffy birthday thingy I wrote for myself with a bit of implied smut at the end I love this gif 💕

The sun coming through the curtains, filling the room woke you up. In an attempt to ignore it you turned to go back to sleep only to find you were alone in bed. You let out a small grumpy noise but decide to get out of bed anyway. With half closed eyes you grab your husband's t shirt off the floor and make your way downstairs.

Once you were downstairs and in the kitchen, you see Bo standing over the stove in nothing but boxers. You were more awake now, Bo saw you before you had the chance to speak.

"Yer supposed to be in bed baby doll" wagging the spatula at you.

You went to wrap your arms around him from behind nuzzling your face into his back a little. "I'm sorry bunny, the bed felt empty without you. I could go back upstairs if you want."

"It's alright darlin, we can just eat down here. Go sit down baby." With a kiss on the head you go sit on the couch. You didn't turn the tv on like you normally did, instead you turned to watch your favourite cooking show.

Couple minutes later Bo came over with a tray holding a cup of tea, a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs, waffles and a card.

"Thank you baby, this looks delicious."

"After you've eaten I can give you one of your presents."

"Oh you mean that thing you do with your tongue." Raising a eyebrow

"You know it baby" winks and smirks in a playful way.

You kiss the tip of his nose "Sounds like a plan"

"Happy birthday darlin" Bo says as he pulls you in for a very passionate kiss.

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xinyuehui · 6 months

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Things that sound like Pu Yiyong would do

Tseng Jinghua｜Beauty美人圈

#Tseng Jing Hua #曾敬驊 #oh no! here comes trouble #oh no here comes trouble #不良執念清除師 #不良执念清除师 #twdrama #taiwanese drama #caps #pu yiyong #its like in ep9 when yiyong was in the cafe and he had no clue what to write 😂😂 same vibes #long time no gifs of onhct!! i was gonna write a trivia blog post huh what happened to that?? *looks at dusty draft*

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today-in-the-devildom · 6 months

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💚Happy Birthday, Satan!💚

Today's not only the day the Devildom welcomed seven new demons into its land, but also the day of our beloved Satan was born!

Although he may have just been a little ball of unbridled wrath back then, today he is an inseparable part of the Devildom. Just look at all the denizens who prepared a gift to thank him for everything he did for them!currently distracted with a little surprise picnic under the stars with a special someone, the Newspaper Club is hard at work preparing a handful of surprises for our birthday demon including tormenting Lucifer the entire day until he caves and you're allowed to have a cat <3

Hopefully he won't be too drained after the celebration since his brothers obviously want to celebrate his birthday as well. They don't have anything too big planned, just a relaxing board game and movie night followed by a sleepover in their living room. Nothing beats spending some quality time with your loved ones, after all!

Anyway, enjoy your birthday to the fullest, Satan! Mephisto and I won't stop annoying Lucifer until you get that little furball he promised you a few days ago 💚

-October 20th 2023-

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#DID YOU GUYS THINK I'D MISS MY MAN'S BIRTHDAY? NUH-UH I WAS HYPED FOR WRITING HIS BADY ENTRY ALL WEEK 💚💚💚💚💚💚💚#(<- had absolutely no clue what to write about)#it definitely has been a while though #took me a lot longer to come up with things and write the post then usual #anyway prev link will be added once the prev entry exists #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me satan #today in the devildom #birthday #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #mephistopheles #mc

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optiwashere · 1 month

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Much as I adore Asheera/Shadowheart I’m gonna also throw my hat in for the Moon Lesbians and say A6 for Aylin x Isobel 🌙

No worries, I expected this if you were to send in a prompt. Thanks for requesting this one! 💜

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A6. Gift giving (this turned out pretty goofy and borderline cracky)

"Aylin, it's quite thoughtful of you, but—"

"Is it not? The merchant I met betwixt this inn and the bazaar in the square remained adamant of the quality of his wares."

Isobel stared at the thin box of cosmetics in her hands. She opened the lid again to make sure she'd seen things correctly. Confirming the splotchy, dull colors in mismatched squares and array of thin brushes, she sealed it tight and looked back to Aylin.

Aylin smiled. Beamed, more like. Like most other things in her life, she took to gift giving as if it were the most important task laid on her shoulders. When Isobel was involved, the entire process became a vital quest rather than a pleasant thought.

"Is there with my gift a fault?" Aylin asked. "Why have you not tried donning it?"

"Aylin, as I said, this was so very thoughtful of you, but it's... it looks as if you've bought counterfeits," explained Isobel.

At that, Aylin's face turned to a grimace. "Swindled by one who would slip past my most righteous gaze?"

"Aylin, it's not that serious, I promise. You simply don't know anything about cosmetics."

"That is no excuse to abdicate my duty." Aylin stomped to the door of their room in the House of the Moon. "We must hie ourselves to the bazaar. There is yet another evil in this wretched city that must be punished."

"And we're the ones to stop it?"

"Of course, my darling," said Aylin matter-of-factly, turning to leave. "Who knows what may lurk beneath an operation such as this."

As Isobel followed her out into the hall, she wished she had said nothing but her thanks for the gift. Now, it seemed, Aylin decided to gift them both with yet another evening of searching every corner of the city for the faintest remaining traces of Sharran influence.

#bg3 fanfiction #dame aylin #isobel thorm #aylin x isobel #my fic #anotheropti prompt fics #I've been writing some dramatic and sad moon lesbian stuff so I'm actually adhering to the 'fluff' category on this one lmao #also I had no clue what to do with this one but this idea seemed funny to me so here we are

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saltydoesstuff · 11 months

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Every Universe

"I love you." She uttered, barely above a whisper. "I love you in every universe." "Do we end up together in every universe?" He asked. "No," She replied, and the painful memories of those life times flashed behind her beautiful eyes as she reflected to the 'back then's. Yet, she smiled, "But I love you anyway, how could I not? My soul yearns for you, even before it had come to know you. It remembers, I remember." "Does it hurt?" She was silent for a moment, "A lifetime without you hurts more then a lifetime when we are not together." "I love you." He blurts out unthinkingly, desperate. He reaches out for her hand, taking it and holds it in both hands in a grounding grip. She looked down at their hands and smiled, relishing in the bitter sweetness. "I know." She confesses quietly. She held his hand tightly, trying to ignore the buzzing within her body- threatening to tear her apart atom by atom. "But you aren't mine. Not this time."

#rottmnt x reader #could be any turtle here #all up to you all :)#it's nearly 4 am but i had to write something down #the angst be angsting #may i make a proper thing out of this?#i have no clue- but i love the idea #like mc is able to travel between universes or something- or sees the future #basically some doctor strange shit #they have lived through countless timelines/lifetimes with the turtles #some good some bad- but one thing is for certain is their bond #context to this would most likely be soulmates #but not a love at first sight soulmate deal- like they are aware of the pull but the relationship still progresses naturally #but mc knows how it ends- in some way or another she loses the love of her life and now she has to do it all over again #she remembers everything but they don't- she has to live through the pain of loss while they are right in front of her-#just they are not what she had before #MMMMM I love this kind of trope #an endless cycle of loss and pain- yet beauty and love #i'm very sleep deprived #hopefully i can start getting actual requests done soon kjfds

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bookshelf-in-progress · 2 months

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Daughter of the House of Dreams: A Fragment

Author's Note: This is the opening to a long-abandoned "Sleeping Beauty" retelling that I no longer plan to write, but I still like it as a piece of prose, and it sparked my enduring interest in second-person narration, so it feels relevant, and why should long-dead authors be the only ones who get to have their unfinished fragments published?

If you ever travel to Monetta City, be sure to visit Faraway Lane. Walk past the glittering new shops, and the shoppers in their bright silk dresses and top hats, and you'll find a cozy stone shop at the end of the street. This shop isn't grand and mighty like the other shops. It won't sniff and turn you away if your clothes aren't the latest fashion. It's a grandmotherly old shop that shakes its head at the prancing and preening of the younger shops, and invites you in instead. It holds no wares in its windows; it hardly has windows at all. But it has a warm and wide wooden door, with a shingle hanging above—Alessia Day, maker of dreams.

Don't ponder the sign's message too long—it means exactly what it says. Just slip inside, shut the door behind you, and look. Don't breathe too deeply, unless you want a week of crazy dreams, but allow yourself one gasp of astonishment. You won't be able to stop yourself. No living person has failed to feel awe toward the rows and rows of shelves, longer than streets and taller than palaces, filled to bursting with glass bottles in such bright colors that the dresses in the other shops' windows would weep in envy. Some bottles are the size of thumbnails. Most fit comfortably in the palm. Some are as large as breadboxes or steamer trunks or carriage horses, but the shelves manage to fit them all. And each bottle is filled to the brim with dreams.

If you don't understand, ask Alessia Day. You'll find her at a counter half a mile from the door, polishing bottles and humming a song you've heard but can't remember. She's an old woman now, and proud of it, but squint your eyes and start to daydream, and you'll see her as I remember her—a willow-wand girl with shining brown hair and eyes that sparkle with half-formed jokes.

Tell this girl how pretty she is (she'll laugh and call you crazy) and ask about her dreams. She'll tell you of her stock and sell you any dream you ask for—daydreams and pipe dreams, dreams of love, dreams of adventure, dreams of loved ones lost and loved ones found and people you've never met but wish you had. She'll show you dreams of lush and perfect islands, dreams where fishes fly through the air, and dreams where people swim the seas with fishes' tails. She'll pull down dreams that last a second but linger a lifetime, dreams that fill a month of stormy nights, dreams that fade on waking and dreams that drown out memories. If you let her, she'll talk of dreams until you drift off, and she'll bottle up your dream while you doze.

But if you're smart (I know you are) you'll step to the counter with a clear glass bottle, empty of everything but air, and ask for her story instead. She'd distill it in a dream for you, and be glad to do it—I once saw her whip it up in half a minute, and I'll bet she's even faster now. Buy the dream, but don't drink it right away. You won't be ready for it. Linger in the shop a while. Hear the story first from Alessia Day's lips, in that voice of hers that's sweeter than singing.

You won't believe half of it, but when you stagger from the shop and wander the empty, starlit streets, you'll ponder over passages until you stumble into bed at sunrise. And when you wake, the world will be different—you'll see tiny footprints on the windowsills, know things about the shadows on the walls, tip your hat to creatures in the corner of your eye, and realize there is another color no one else can see. You'll laugh and call it your imagination, but every second Tuesday, you'll start to wonder if the old woman was right, if the things she told you were true.

If you drink the dream she made, you'll know. I'll understand if you don't—some things are easier not to know. But if you do, and dream through her story, come to my house and ring the bell. My man will let you in—he'll know you by the wonder on your face. He'll bring you to my study, set you in my oldest, softest chair, and get us both settled with a steaming pot of tea. Then, once you've finished babbling, I'll close my eyes and tell you my part in the tale.

#the bookshelf progresses #i had completely forgotten the story that this was supposed to be the prologue to #then over the weekend i found the plot summary again #it was actually pretty cool #it was about this girl whose family served as the most prestigious dream-makers in the nation #because they provide dreams to the famed cursed and sleeping princess #and then she discovers that the princess could have been woken a bunch of times over the century #but her family prevented it because they didn't want to lose their cash cow #and then of course she has to find a way to break the curse #i don't know why i thought having this random dude as narrator was the way to go #(unless the story morphed a lot between initial idea and whatever story i intended to write with this prologue)#he was probably in the prince role #and would marry the princess while remaining friends with alessia #beyond that i have no clue what i was going for #(also i don't think i would do the 'he teams up with this girl and marries someone else' plot if i did it today #because i hate marian halcombe situations where the hero develops a strong dynamic with his adventure partner #only to for some inexplicable reason marry someone pretty and boring)#anyway today's a day where i want to write and don't really have time to #so i'm just posting this instead

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ghostinharrenhal · 1 year

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i really desperately truly need some of yall to let go of this idea that arya was ‘abusive’ to sansa because she hit her. my younger sister kicked/bit/scratched the shit out of me when we were kids and i’m not on here writing think pieces calling her violent and irredeemably cruel

#kennyposting #genuine thoughts maybe forthcoming but arya had been hiding in the woods for DAYS!!!#arya has NO CLUE what is going to happen to her/how bad it is going to be #and her sister who yes i understand was in a difficult situation didn't speak up for her #arya stark #should i write this up into a real meta? let me know

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the-ranting-ravens-lair · 2 years

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It’s a fairly common thing to hear that monsters, especially in Gothic literature, represent societal fears of the era they came from. While there is a lot to be said for this point, I think the reason so many people (myself included) love monsters so much is because, almost universally, they represent ‘otherness’ and their scariness is supposed to come from the fact that they are unnatural, vastly different from humans, incomprehensible, ext. Anyway, I think it’s interesting that this otherness is so pervasive in gothic literature monsters because one of the hallmarks of gothic horror is a sense of isolation, usually in setting but sometimes our protagonists are also just very isloated from society.

Frankenstein’s creature is considered a monster within the first moments of his life- “...but now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart,” Victor writes. The creature is outcasted by everyone he encounters, though he’s done nothing wrong and has even helped people, in the cases of the DeLacey family and the little girl. Nothing he does can erase the fact that he is so fundementally different from everyone else that they will always hate him. “I am malicious because I am miserable,” he says. He is a monster in the world’s eyes for existing, and so he truly becomes a monster to try and get back at the world that has caused him so much pain.

Edward Hyde is a fascinating example of this otherness because, at first glance, he is just another fully-evil monster. And while I think it’s fair to say that he isn’t a good person, it’s also fair to say that, since he is the physical embodiment of everything Jekyll had tried to repress about himself, he also is ‘other’. “Many a man would have even blazoned such irregularities as I was guilty of; but from the high views that I had set before me, I regarded and hid them with an almost morbid sense of shame.” Here we see that, even from a young age, Jekyll thinks of his ‘irregularities’ as marking him different from the people of high society that he is surrounded by. There is also a very interesting line later in the book- “All human beings, as we meet them, are commingled out of good and evil; and Edward Hyde, alone in the ranks of mankind, was pure evil.” I think it’s interesting because this is what is supposed to drive home how bad Hyde is- he is different from everyone else. There is no other person on earth like him. Even though this line tells us he’s evil, I’ve always thought it presented him in a really sympathetic way.

The Phantom is like Frankenstein’s creature in that the text is pretty forward about ‘otherness’. “Poor, unhappy Erik! Shall we pity him? Shall we curse him? He only asked to be ‘some one’, like everybody else! But he was too ugly! And he had to hide his genuis or use it to play tricks with, when, with an ordinary face, he would have been one of the most distinguished of mankind! He had a heart that could have held the empire of the world; and, in the end, he had to content himself with a cellar.” All throughout his life, despite his great skill in many areas, Erik was ostracized (and in many cases, almost killed) by everyone he met, because he was different. No amount of artist genius or human kindness could overcome that. Thus, like Frankenstein’s creature, he became violent and angry.

I think they should all start a support group bc heaven knows they need it

#despite calling myself therantingraven this is the first rant ive posted #anyways tho this is why i love monsters especially these guys #and also why i cry(figuratively) whenever someone insults them #i should write an actual analysis on this sometime #honestly i had no real point with this i just wanted to talk about my favorite monsters <3 #Frankenstein #Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde #The Phantom of the Opera #Adam Frankenstein #Frankenstein’s creature #Edward Hyde #Erik #no clue what to call that guy tbh #Gothic lit #gothic literature #The Raven's Rants

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chaos-of-the-wilds · 1 year

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“I am the only normal Jerma fan” he cried out over and over like a preacher begging for forgiveness to an a silent and uncaring god, knowing that in the truth of his heart he is lying and saying this only to comfort himself from the sins of his mind.

#I have no clue what compelled me to write this #jerma #jerma985 #shitpost #meme #if I had the money to burn I’d blaze this

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theearlgreymage · 8 months

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Uh. So. Hi. I promise I'm not dead out here.

Life has been chaotic and my brain hasn't been interested in doing anything I want it to lately.

But. We're trying here. On the bright side, my classroom is immaculate and ready for the new school year to start this week.

Anyways.

Thank you so much to every single one of you that have continued tagging me 😭 It means the world to still be included in everyone's Six Sentence Sunday and WIP Wednesday Posts -

@ic3-que3n @artsyunderstudy @shrekgogurt @wellbelesbian @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @hushed-chorus @aristocratic-otter @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @rimeswithpurple @j-nipper-95 @ivelovedhimthroughworse @foolofabookwyrm-activated @cutestkilla @confused-bi-queer @facewithoutheart

You are all amazing. And I'm sure there are names I've missed, but I only went back three weeks, haha.

Now, enough babbling from me. Here's what you're all here for - a variety of 6 sentences from some of my projects that are rotting my brain.

Eirly's (a COBB project with @artsyunderstudy & @shrekgogurt)

He’s alive. Everything I’ve done. Every line I’ve crossed. It was all worth it. Now if only he’d put down the bloody sword and help me out of this infernal trap. “Snow?” I call out to him.

Aster & Narcissus (a COBB project with @ivelovedhimthroughworse)

Still, there’s too much power nestled in his hand. I could sense it when we tumbled down the hill. It was like having a sparking ember crash into my chest. He was so warm in my arms as I grabbed onto him in the fall. And when I offered him my hand, I felt that power even more concentrated. Mixed with a feeling of unbridled urgency.

Infinity in Your Chest Pocket

Why is this slowly starting to feel like a date? It’s not. I know it’s not. But I still can’t stop my mind from wandering down a path where it is. As soon as Vera has left the room, I’m rushing to put my violin away and fish my phone from my jeans pocket. There’s no way I’m going to be able to handle being alone with Snow for an entire afternoon - watching him try on clothes and eating food with him.

An Untitled Project

"[redacted]," I plead. I beg. I've never been more desperate as I am in this moment. My heart has lodged its way into my throat. If [redacted] doesn't breathe, then neither will I. I'll choke on my own heart right here before I leave him.

Tags Under the Cut

Hello there my lovely friends. I hope you have all been doing amazing lately!!

@bookish-bogwitch @captain-aralias @ebbpettier @erzbethluna @fatalfangirl @gekkoinapeartree @henreyettah @ileadacharmedlife @ionlydrinkhotwater @johnwgrey @krisrix @larkral @letraspal @martsonmars @moodandmist @mostlymaudlin @onepintobean @orange-peony @palimpsessed @prettylightsbigcity @raenestee @skeedelvee @stardustasincocaine @stitchyqueer @tea-brigade @theimpossibledemon @thewholelemon @whogaveyoupermission @yellobb

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