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thefreelanceangel · 1 year

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Which OCs that are not yours do you most admire? What is it about that character that you find impressive or engaging?

is... is there a limit to how many I can name...?

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-

Um, okay. *deep breath*

Seifer d'Latu -- yes, it's my husband's character, but that's not the only reason! (He has other characters that aren't my favorites!) Seifer very, very clearly comes across with a powerful sense of self that I genuinely think comes from Sev having played the character for decades. {As someone who has chronic altitis, I don't think a character has to be a "main" or written for 20+ years to be good, but the development of personality and writing style that Sev has built up for a couple of decades sure doesn't hurt!}

He's also a fantastic villain who never bothers lying about his intentions, but seems… able to just… slide that right past people? I can't COUNT the number of female characters who happily followed Seifer to the d'Latu home and were shocked to not only meet his wife, but also at his disinterest in bedding them. Like they just… didn't listen when Seifer clearly told them he only wanted to fuck with their heads. It's genuinely amazing.

And Seifer I find particularly interesting because he's not the evil overlord who wants to rule the world. He's best suited to and enjoys being an advisor to the throne (so to speak) and was originally designed to be an enforcer to someone with a greater degree of power. It's rather rare to run into a villain character that isn't either The Leader or aiming to be The Leader and I genuinely enjoy how Seifer works into that role. (And how he works the role itself, he's just… such a delight to engage with.)

There are a LOT of characters I've had the pleasure of engaging with that are just marvelous. Voranoix L'espoir (one of my top fifteen RP characters ever tbh), Zale Bolton, Lupus Lynx, Thravnar Ravensun, Sezra'tan Entialpoh, Targur Steelfist, Wisteria… (Why are none of them active on Tumblr, you ask? Because the Irony Gods love to poke me with sticks.)

However, there are also a whole lot of characters I've never been able to RP with (usually because of anxiety/lack of time/lack of IG availability) that I find fascinating to read about.

@luck-and-larceny's Malika and @dumb-hat's Evander both fall in my top tier. Not only are they well-rounded characters with depth--obvious when you just scroll through a very few pieces of writing--but they're also FUNNY. And characters written with humor--both as from the reader's perspective as well as the character themself--are so, so rare. I LOVE funny characters and I love it when authors/players don't take themselves so seriously that they can't laugh at their characters or themselves. It genuinely makes the serious moments of character reflection feel more important when there's a contrast.

Basically everything @gatheredfates writes. Throw @riftdancing in there because they give each other some truly admirable support and cheer each other on. (It's beautiful to see.) There's… just the sense of WEIGHTY backstory in everything they do and reading their snippets, seeing their screenshots, I feel the same way I do when listening to "Jenny of Oldstones" written for Game of Thrones. Which is to say that there's a whole world they've created I'm getting a glimpse of and I'd dearly love to see more.

While I love @kuro8529's "black snack" (:D), his Viera Fakhri (on @gray-morality ) and @catscratching's Seda have a solid story built up, not only between them but also separately, so when I read either of them writing, I get a glimpse of the HOURS it took to painstakingly build this mutually satisfying story that has so much further that it can go.

@ofcruelghosts -- I love the noir aesthetic, the writing style and the very concept. I can genuinely feel the inspiration from the pieces and I'd love to see the character in even more scenes.

@bloodpoetry-lytharp -- Hi, have you read about Lytha? You should. Not only that, but you should read the other characters @erithe writes because she has an amazing grasp of style, character development and plot. (She's also one of the best people I've ever known.)

@mirugaidoesthings -- Dayar, ofc, I love because not only is he old enough I can thirst after the character without feeling like a perv, but also because he's written so pleasantly, so casually that it's like catching up with an old friend only to find out they killed a tiger with their bare hands at 15. You do a LOT of "WHA??" and it's amazing. Miru is a miraculously talented writer and a wonderful person.

@rylen-ashworth -- Eh, he's okay, I guess. Decent character. I suppose. {:D}

#Prompts #OOC #I had to stop somewhere #Or this list would be much much longer

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talaricula · 5 months

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Things I've seen tumblr memeing about James Somerton doing à la "How did no one see how bigoted he was!" as if those things haven't been a significant part of tumblr culture for over a decade :

Presenting untrue and bordering on conspiratorial versions of (queer or otherwise marginalised) history without any sources

Completely disregarding and disrespecting any expertise on socio-cultural topics/humanities and distrusting academics and historians (incl. acting as if no academics or historians could be queer or marginalised)

Downplaying the role misogyny played in the historical oppression of queer women and concluding that queer men must have been more oppressed than queer women

Bi women are, at best, not as queer as "real" queer ppl, and at worst, simply equivalent to straight women

Despite nominal trans inclusivity, transmasculine ppl are functionally women when convenient (combined with the above, bi transmascs are functionally straight women)

Despite nominal trans inclusivity (bis), shamelessly attacking, threatening and actively endangering any trans woman who questions them or smth they find important (often by unfairly presenting her as violent or as a threat)

Having absolutely fucking wild and reductive takes about ace ppl, the oppression they face and their place in the queer community

Stating that marriage equality is an assimilationist fight while completely ignoring its direct roots in the horrifying consequences of the AIDS crisis for partners of ppl who died of AIDS

Praising western media creators from the past for queer coding even under censure and in the same breath condemning current non western media creators for being homophobic bc their representation isn't explicit enough

Blaming China for all existing homophobic censoring in western media

Assuming all queer media would be better told by western creators and by western standards

Only out queer ppl get to tell queer stories

Heavily criticising almost all queer media created by women or ppl they see as such (see above points about trans ppl) or involving/starring a significant amount of women for any perceived or real amount of "problematicness", but fawning over and praising and negating criticism of queer media created by and starring mostly or even functionally exclusively men (even when it could be argued that, you know, not involving/seriously sidelining women is a pretty clear example of misogyny which should probably be considered "problematic")

And I'm probably forgetting stuff or there's stuff I have internalised myself and don't recognise as an issue

Like idk but I feel like the takeaway from Hbomberguy and Toddintheshadow's videos should maybe be "be aware of such patterns in your communities bc they definitely exist" and not "this guy is uniquely awful" and I feel like a lot of the discussion I've seen surrounding this has been severely failing at that. Most ppl who've spent any significant amount of time on tumblr prob either have internalised at least one of those thought patterns, have had to de-internalise them, or have had to be extremely vigilant to not internalise them (which is done by, you know, seeking out other sources, which also seemed like an important takeaway from the videos)

#Also I'm saying this as someone who actually watched quite a few of Somerton's videos #And noticed those patterns and stopped watching bc I recognised them from here #and had already learned to unlearn them after being so exposed to them here #And tbh I think anyone who hasn't had the luck or made the conscious choice to seek out ppl who pushed against those narratives #Would absolutely have fallen for this man's bullshit. Like let's not kid ourselves we see takes like this every day on this hellsite #2014 me would have. For sure.#This is next to the plagiarism issue which as Harris points out is an Internet wide issue and this includes tumblr #James Somerton #hbomberguy #todd in the shadows #This brought to you by a conversation with my wife yesterday #So many ppl on here don't deserve to meme or be this self absolvingly critical of this man #The call is coming from inside the house #The man has a tumblr it would legit not surprise me if some of the things he supposedly made up himself he did actually get from somewhere #And that somewhere was a tumblr post

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wonderthor · 3 months

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being whiny and needy with choso

you were the one that woke up extremely horny and touched starved (this time), but being the sweetie pie that he is he let you ride him until you come.

but you can’t.

you’re whining and whimpering because you just can’t get there yet. speeding up, slowing down, moving your hips in so many different ways. none of it is working, but you need to come so bad!

“baby”, he calls out to you, and you look at him with a hint of frustrated tears in your eyes.

“baby, shh just relax for me okay? i got you, let me take care of it, yeah?”, he whispers as he cradles your cheek in his hand.

as soon as you nod, he grips your hips and lifts you up and down on his cock, rolling your hips back and forth in a way that instantly makes your mouth open wide and your head fall back. you brace yourself on his pecs and he momentarily takes one of his hands off of your hips, his other holding a tighter grip to compensate. you look down at him and see that he uses his free hand to pick up one of yours, kissing your palm with his eyes locked on you. then, he holds your hand as he picks up his pace.

your mind was empty as your eyes stayed on his, knowing nothing else but him. you barely were able to think about how strong he was to be able to pick you up and down over and over with only one hand. your orgasm had crept up on you without you even paying attention.

“cho, i’m…it-”

“i know baby, i know. give it to me, please?”

he kisses your knuckles before putting his hand back on your hip, fucking up into you and he pulls you up and down against him. you arch your back and burrow your nails into his chest, holding on tight. your eyes leaving his trance and going back into your skull.

“ohhh fuck!”

he lets one of his thumbs trail over to your clit, rubbing hard and fast.

“that’s it, that’s it baby. please, please give it to me. give it to me, give it to me,” he growled out through clenched teeth.

just that quickly, the coil snapped and you came all over his dick with a loud moan. the intensity of your orgasm spurred his and he came right behind you, filling you up. when you were tired of holding yourself up, he pulled you down to lay on his chest, rubbing your back as your breaths slowly calmed down in harmony.

it was just like that how you both fell asleep.

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seagull-scribbles · 8 months

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All of my Out of Touch Turts-day for easy comparison 💕

Which one is your favourite?

[1987] [2003] [2007] [2012] [2018] [2019] [2023]

#TMNT #out of touch turts day #studying all the different styles was fun and I think I learnt skills as it went on for sure #it was a lot of fun doing things differently than usual each week all summer #whats your fave animated turtle version? did I do it justice #one of my irl friends was very supportive of this & asked if i was going to do a comic version and idk maybe next year i should explore tha #but im happy to stop for now like drawing 7 characters 7 times is just a lot for me #well almost…..rip mutant ay hem Casey jones ahaha #i worked out this took somewhere between 65-75 hours to do and just gosh....i didnt know i had that in me

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qqueenofhades · 10 months

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Good Omens Season 2: Some Thoughts (and also Screaming)

First, /screams

Second, obligatory disclaimer that this meta contains MAJOR SPOILERS for all six episodes. If you somehow have managed to remain virginally unspoiled, look away now, scroll past, or add "good omens s2" and "good omens spoilers" to your block list, as those are the tags I have been using for all posts and reblogs.

Third, /screams more

Okay okay okay. Deep breaths.

Anyway, so, uh, how about all that, huh? First, the good thing about the tone of the season overall was that it felt considerably darker and more adult, in a good way. We didn't have the precocious kiddies, the kitsch and literally-comphet Anathema and Newt, the so-clever narration, etc. All that was gone, which makes sense when you consider that a) the end of last season saw them reboot into an entirely new universe, and b) the fact that God has gone silent is, in fact, a major plot point for the season. We don't have Her slyly telling us the story, or indeed anything, and everyone is left to make their own judgments and take their own actions. Which, obviously, gets them into a lot of trouble, especially when Metatron (the Voice of God, aka someone acting in the belief that they're speaking for God and therefore doing terrible harm) swoops in with the ultimate buzzkill at the end of episode 6. But we'll get to that.

The downside was that the main, present-day plot (hiding Gabriel in the bookshop and trying to get Nina and Maggie to fall in love) was fairly thin, felt stretched out and at times weirdly paced, and otherwise existed mostly to get us to That Ending and the setup for season 3. But the ending was so damn good (if obviously, very painful) that I can't be TOO mad, not least because we spent six episodes with them just making absolutely no pretense about the whole thing being as incredibly homosexual as possible. I'll be honest: I did not think they were going to actually, explicitly go there. Neil Gaiman has been so consistent about "your interpretations are valid and you're welcome to read it however you want, but the only canon is what's on screen," which I think is frankly a good thing (not least since the Neil GAYman Cinematic Universe is consistently very, very good to us queers), that I just... didn't quite think they'd pull the trigger. Sir Terry is dead and can't have active input, this is based on a book published 30 years ago, maybe they didn't want to make it LIKE THAT... etc. I certainly hoped, but I didn't really think they would.

Uh. Well.

As I said in my various semi-coherent liveblog posts, I honestly don't think there was a single straight person in the entire season, among both major and background characters. Aziraphale/Crowley and Maggie/Nina are the obvious paralleling couples, but Beelzebub (using "they" pronouns and addressed as "Lord" despite presenting as femme/femme-adjacent) is clearly nonbinary and therefore also queer, and the countless gay/queer side characters were just /chefs kiss. From Job's son making a sassy pass at Aziraphale, to the random Scottish goon with Grindr on his phone (which he then gives to Aziraphale, because what is subtlety), to the interracial couple with the trans spouse at the Pride and Prejudice ball, there was just a lot of casual, unremarked, non-story-critical queer representation visible at every turn. It's like the NGCU saw the bigots wailing about Sandman season 1 being extremely gay and went CHALLENGE ACCEPTED, LET'S MAKE GOOD OMENS 2 EVEN MORE GAY.

God bless.

Obviously, Jon Hamm as Amnesia!Gabriel stole the show (he was SO fucking funny) and it was also incredibly fun to watch Miranda Richardson repurposed as a scheming demon. Nina Sosanya also reappeared as Nina the coffee shop owner, which leads us into the Maggie-and-Nina subplot. They're obviously, wildly, incredibly clearly an analogue for Aziraphale and Crowley themselves, but they're also each, crucially, a mix of both. On the surface, Maggie is Aziraphale: the plump, blonde, earnest, sweet-natured one owning a slightly dated book music shop and somewhat clueless about emotional nuances, while Nina is (also on the surface) Crowley, the hard-edged dark loner who doesn't want to open herself up to people or be spotted caring. But emotionally, Maggie is Crowley: the one openly pining, clearly besotted, only wanting to hang around their crush and do whatever they can to make themselves useful, while Nina is Aziraphale. Interested but reticent, attracted but conflicted, trapped in an abusive relationship with a demanding offscreen "lover" (Lindsay/Heaven) who tries to constantly control and shame them without ever offering much, if anything in return. By the end, they bring themselves around to what Maggie/Crowley are offering, but by then, well. We've got a lot more problems on our hands.

As I also said in my earlier posts, this entire thing has always been a metaphor for religion, queerness, and what religion -- especially abusive, fundamentalist, organized religion -- does to queer people, but they really cranked the FUCK out of that metaphor this season. Aziraphale is guilt-tripped, controlled, and shamed for his attraction to Crowley at every turn. He is torn between his imagined duty to Heaven, in all its ignorant, uncaring, bureaucratic, gratuitously cruel system that he still insists on seeing the best in because he can't bear the alternative, and the chaotic and sometimes grey but genuinely more good morality that Crowley offers him. (Can I just say, we were explicitly shown that the two of them together doing "just a little miracle" are more powerful than Heaven AND Hell combined.) And at the end, he's told that the only way he can be with Crowley -- what Metatron explicitly blackmails him with -- is if they both go back to heaven, submit themselves to the cruel system again and give up everything that has made them who they are: their home in London, their human friends, their reliance on each other, their independence, their own ways of doing things. You can be queer in this (religious) framework, but only the limited, watered-down, controlled, controllable, constantly-under-supervision kind of queer, which relies on both you and your lover "converting" back to the true faith. And if you don't cooperate, they will literally kidnap you, lie to you, manipulate you, take you from your soulmate, and force you right back into doing the one thing (destroying the world) that you never, ever wanted to do in the first place, because in their minds, that is still better than this. It's for your own good.

Ouch.

And the thing is: that's why the ending a) hits so hard and b) is so fucking painful, because of course Aziraphale agrees. He has no conception of being able to defy Heaven on his own; he has always, always needed Crowley for that. In the flashbacks, when Aziraphale is faced with an order from Heaven that he desperately does not want to carry out (such as letting all Job's children get killed), he still relies completely on Crowley to "outsmart the rules" and find a better way. Crowley is A Crafty Demon; that's what he does, and so Aziraphale rationalizes it to himself that therefore that must be fine. Even in season 1, when he really didn't want the Apocalypse to happen but initially thought it was his duty as a good Heaven footsoldier, he relied on Crowley to talk him out of it and allow him to do what he really wants instead. That's their whole dynamic in a nutshell, as exemplified in that scene in episode 2, where Crowley tempts Aziraphale with the "pleasures of the flesh" while sprawled on his back in Ravish Me mode like the giant walking gay disaster that he is. (Sorry, buddy. That beard. Can't do it.) Everything that Aziraphale's existence is, that makes him who he is, that he loves and cherishes the most (in this case, food and wine) comes from Crowley. Everything else is just background noise.

Throughout the season, what we see is Aziraphale increasingly coming around to the fantasy of being with Crowley. He's coy and flirty; he talks about "our car" and expects Crowley will let him (which he does); he wants to have a Jane Austen ball and for them to dance together (oh my heart); he even thinks, at the crucial moment, that the best way for them to be together is to go back to heaven just like they were in the beginning, once more perfect angels, as if those entire six thousand years of struggle and grief and pining and separation and falling didn't happen. And Crowley -- poor, poor, brave, devoted, heartbroken Crowley -- has just heard for the first time in said six thousand years that actually telling the person you love how you feel is an option. Maggie and Nina tell them point-blank that their whole stupid plan failed because people aren't chess pieces who can be moved and automatically achieve the desired result. And of course this gobsmacks the dearest and dumbest Ineffable Husbands, because they can't conceive of anything else. People are chess pieces in the Great War of Heaven and Hell; Aziraphale and Crowley themselves are chess pieces who have been desperately trying to get out of being moved by external forces, but that doesn't change the fact that that's what they are. They don't have volition or agency aside from that which they can sneak for themselves in brief and stolen moments. That's it.

Until, well. It's not it. They discover that this whole would-be war is actually an elaborate ruse to cover up another angel-demon romance, that of Gabriel and Beelzebub. (I'll be honest, I'm 99% sure they did this storyline because they saw the fans crackshipping them, but I appreciate a fictional narrative that values and incorporates its fans' input, rather than trying to constantly "trick" or "outsmart" them or "do what they don't expect.") And Gabriel and Beelzebub get to be together, but only by leaving their world forever. They have to desert their homes, their structures, even their own identities, and never return. And Crowley and Aziraphale are so rooted in their "precious, perfect, fragile" life in their little corner of Soho, with their bookshop and their Bentley and their dining at the Ritz (which they didn't get to do in the end because METATRON /shakes fist), that that just doesn't work. Neither of them can conceive of doing that. So Aziraphale thinks "go back to heaven and try to make the terrible system do some good and take what we can in terms of being together" and Crowley just... pours out his heart. He's ready to fucking propose. He barely stops himself from saying something to the effect of "I want to spend eternity with you." He begs, he pleads with Aziraphale to go away not in the literal sense, but the emotional/metaphysical: to finally break this toxic dependence on Heaven and tell them once and for all where to stick it. And because he is desperate to make Aziraphale understand, he finally throws all caution to the winds and recklessly, desperately, adoringly kisses him, the one thing he's wanted to do for ages and...

Gets. Shot. Down.

Ugghhhhh. I'm suffering all over again. Aziraphale wants him, hungers for it, for them, and yet he's been so abused and so conditioned by Heaven (he's still blithely repeating to Crowley's face that "Hell are the bad guys!") that he just cannot accept that kind of desperate, blind, limitless, lawless affection. He even forgives Crowley for this "transgression," just to really twist the knife, and Crowley just can't take it, can't face up to how terribly this has all gone up in flames, after he went to heaven trying to find the answer for Gabriel's situation. Gabriel, who he fucking hates. Gabriel, who tried to kill the angelic being he loves (and for which Crowley has transparently never forgiven him). And yet at one pouty puppy-eyed look from Aziraphale and a warning that whoever is harboring Gabriel might be in danger, Crowley leaps headlong into the Bentley again and rushes to the rescue while "Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy" is blaring. He stoutly protects Gabriel; he does a miracle to disguise him; he lets him have hot chocolate and stay in the bookshop; he guards him from the literal demonic horde outside. All because of Aziraphale. That's it. And then, it still doesn't work. Not only that, Gabriel's absence and decision to forego Armageddon gives Heaven the one tool they finally need to take Aziraphale away from him.

I repeat: Ugghhhhhhhh.

(In a good way. Ngl, I love this angst. This is the kind of angst my brain Thrives on, the Thematic Parallel Romantic Character Arc kind. Nom nom nom. But also: AGONY.)

I also need to talk about Aziraphale driving the Bentley, aside from the obvious metaphor of him being in Crowley's home while Crowley is in his. Last season, we had the "you go too fast for me, Crowley" scene with them sitting in said Bentley, which was Aziraphale saying he's not ready for a relationship. In this season, as noted above, we see Aziraphale increasingly embracing the potential fantasy of being with Crowley. But here's the catch: when he's in the Bentley this time, driving it, setting the pace, acclimating to the idea, he's driving his own idea of what the Bentley/his relationship with Crowley is. It's not the real thing. He plays classical music; he supplies himself sweets; he turns it yellow; he drives too slow. Crowley calls him in another old-married-couple snitfit to complain that Aziraphale's messed it up, but what Aziraphale has actually messed up (or will, by the end of the season) is far more consequential than just a car. He's changed the entire shape of their relationship to the one he thinks can make it work, and it just doesn't. It has to be them -- "we could have been... Us" -- or it's not even close to the truth. It's not worth their time.

I repeat: Ouch.

Speaking of the writers validating fan theories, I know we all picked up and screamed about on Crowley's idea of Peak Romance Guaranteed To Fall In Love being sheltering from rain and gazing into each other's eyes, which confirms that that poor bastard was indeed ass-over-teakettle gone as soon as he met Aziraphale (again) in Eden. I also need to talk about the 1941 redux, because wow. This time, the danger comes from Hell, which we see being its usual self: gleefully, pointlessly cruel, pettily backbiting, dirty, sniping, tedious, endless, determined to mindlessly destroy because They're The Bad Guys and they like it. So they blackmail, spy on, miracle-block, illicitly photograph, and try to prove that Aziraphale and Crowley are secretly a couple, right after Aziraphale himself has just had the Light From Heaven realization that he's in love (which we all also picked up on in s1). They're forcibly outing them (to speak of more Religious Queer Trauma) in order to break them up/get them into trouble with their authorities/families. Aziraphale and Crowley manage to escape it mostly by dumb luck, but Crowley having an altogether freakout, hands shaking, barely able to actually point the gun at Aziraphale even in the knowledge that it's supposed to be fake, is just... wow. He can't even fathom the idea of ever trying to destroy him in earnest, especially when he knows on some level that Aziraphale also finally just realized his own feelings. So I just need to --

/screams

Anyway, Aziraphale's entire arc this season is doing what he thinks is the right thing and then inadvertently causing harm and damage as a result. In the Edinburgh flashbacks (live slug reaction of me: SEAN BIGGERSTAFF???!!) he tries to stop Elspeth from stealing bodies and gets Morag killed and Crowley drinking the laudanum to save him (though that part with David Tennant just riffing left and right, using his natural Scottish accent, and being Tiny Crowley/Huge Crowley was hilarious). He invites his neighbors to a Pride and Prejudice ball and makes them all the target for demonic attack. And of course the Job episode: Aziraphale, horrified at Heaven's callous cruelty, desperate not to get Job's children killed, willing to go along with Crowley's tricks to save them somehow, tempted by Crowley to do the fucknasty with their angel bits eat some food and decide that he likes it. As mentioned, the whole thing about God being silent this season is a major thematic choice. The only time we see/hear God is Her communing with Job from afar. Aziraphale enviously imagines the answers he must be getting (he's not, he's baffled and perplexed), while Crowley longs beyond words to even have the opportunity to ask the question: why? Why do this? Why is this your plan?

And of course, this absence culminates in the Metatron, the Voice of God, the person arrogantly claiming that they're speaking for God and know exactly what Heaven wants, being able to seize Aziraphale by the short hairs and absolutely fuck him over. Gabriel is gone/decommissioned/eloping with Beelzebub, so Heaven needs a Supreme Leader (God apparently is no longer a factor in the equation). And what this Supreme Leader needs to do is finally unleash the Apocalypse that Gabriel decided to pass on (the Second Coming). Aziraphale needs to be punished, taken away from Crowley's influence/love, and put back under Heaven's explicit control, so Metatron spots a great opportunity to do all three at once. It's not an accident that the exact tool he uses to get Aziraphale to agree is "now you can actually be with Crowley!" Aziraphale and Crowley have been trying so hard to hide out from their respective Head Offices, but now all at once, there's this seemingly miraculous opportunity for them not to have to do that anymore! They can be together! They can be sanctioned by Heaven! They can give up all this hiding and sneaking around and lying! Isn't that better?

... As long as, of course, they give up absolutely everything that makes them who they are. No big deal. Minor catch. Probably nothing.

Metatron doesn't let Aziraphale have time to escape, or think it over, or reflect, or anything. He pressures Aziraphale to come with him immediately, or be once more subject to Heaven's implicit wrath/destruction/judgment. Believe me, Aziraphale already KNOWS he's made a huge mistake, as soon as he hears what Metatron really wants: bringing him back to unleash the Apocalypse that Aziraphale and Crowley have given up literally everything to prevent. He doesn't need time to reflect. By the time my man is in that elevator, he's well aware of what a catastrophic misjudgment he's made, and yet --

Aziraphale needs this. He has, as noted, literally always relied on Crowley outsmarting Heaven's cruel orders in order to prevent himself from having to do them. He's relied on Crowley rescuing him ("rescuing me makes him so happy," WELL BUB, IT'S BECAUSE YOU ALWAYS NEED IT). He admits to Crowley's face that "I need you!" He hates Heaven's sadistic meanness, but he has absolutely no framework, in and of himself, to defy it. When the rubber hits the road, he will crumple and try to go along with it, and now he's been put in a position where he's going to have to stand up, defy Heaven, and make the break once and for all BY HIMSELF. He doesn't have Crowley around to do it for him, he has no support, he is going to arrive in Heaven and be shuttled straight off to the Apocalypse 2.0 War Room. The only way he gets out of this is if he actively stands up, if he chooses himself and Crowley and their life, and he has to.

The thing is:

Aziraphale has lived his entire eternal existence Looking Up. Up is the direction of Goodness and Heaven. Up is where Angels go. Up is where Aziraphale comes from and where Demons and Hell are not. But now he's going Up, in a position to take over the whole shebang, and it's the last thing he wants.

So he's going to have to come back Down.

He's going to have to Fall. He's going to have to get back Below at all costs. He's going to have to finally, once and for all, understand what led Crowley to make the choice to leave Heaven and never come back. It's only then that they can possibly be together on any kind of conscious, equal, deliberate footing, claim their own agency, reject Heaven AND Hell, and try to really earn that South Downs cottage and that happy-ever-after, and it's gonna hurt so good.

Now if you will excuse me, /screams

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens s2 #good omens spoilers #ineffable husbands #look this probably could have been twice as long #but i had to stop somewhere #I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS

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ghouljams · 10 months

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Oh no not the viagra cigars

Fr tho increased libido? For out inexperienced witch? Please have mercy on her nooo

He's saving one of the cigars to use on the witch and it is just gonna dumby her to get hit with her own magic. She cannot handle Price and he loves it.

The air is heavy with smoke, you thoughts are swirling with it. Resinous and intoxicating. Tobacco and wild magic.

You drag your tongue up the fat heavy cock in front of you, eyes glassy and unfocused as you try to keep them locked on Price. His big hand cups the back of your hand, keeps you held close and panting against his cock. What is that in the air? You can just smell it under the tobacco, under the cold woodsy scent of the man in front of you.

High John the Conqueror, your brain churns, sluggish from the magic in the air.

Your eyes lid, head tipping to kiss the length of his cock as you grind your dripping cunt against his boot. He tastes like sweat and salt, and magic, like something powerful and unchanging. Your tongue traces every vein, lapping at the pre-cum that drools from the thick head. Your hands press against the wood floor, giving yourself an extra point of balance for your canting hips.

"Such a greedy little whore," Price lets smoke drip down towards you, "Don't look so innocent from here." His words simmer like fire in your stomach. Smoke filling your nose, making you wetter, making his cock harder and hotter against your tongue.

You open your mouth wide, stretching your lips around his cock, feeling his hand guiding you down his length as you suck. His magic swirls through your thoughts like the smoke in the air, clouds them, dampens inhibitions. But not shame, no you think he wants you to feel that. To know fully that you're on your knees, so desperate for him that you're willing to take anything he'll give you. Even if that's a cock down your throat and a boot against your cunt.

"All of it," Price tells you, his hand a steady weight, pushing you down his cock. You whine, swallowing as best you can, laving your tongue against the veins lining the underside of his shaft to try and slick the process. You try to pull back and find yourself trapped by his careful fingers. His fingers are so warm where they touch your scalp. Magic. He's pumping you full of some sort of magic as he eases you down his length.

You look up at him, whine around his cock stretching out your throat. He looks like a God staring down at you, uncaring but attentive, hazy but perfectly focused. He reshapes your throat to fit him, insistent on pushing you down until your nose presses against the coarse hair trailing his stomach.

The warmth from his magic fades, and you gag. Your eyes give wide, clouds around your mind clearing just enough. He was stopping your gag reflex. You try to breathe, try to swallow around the thick cock holding your throat open, try to push down the gag. Price hums, watching your brows furrow as you try to sort yourself out. You don't know how to do this, you don't know why he won't let you off.

"You have to learn witch," he tells you with a smile, tipping his head back to watch the smoke filling the room, hardly paying you any mind, "Such a good girl f'me, playin' like you dont love it."

You shiver, closing your eyes to try and focus on the knot in your stomach, and not on the knowledge that he's right.

#Nobody look at me I cannot explain myself #Literally couldn't stop thinking about this and had to write it somewhere #We're doing Price and his Darling so out of order but whatever #This is deeeeep in their relationship #there is no way that woman is letting him fuck any time soon #Fae!Price #the way he would hold off on fucking her properly until she literally begged him to #just to really make the tether stick #God he's so fucking mean I want him to make me worse #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #john price #captain price cod #x reader #captain price smut

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cfeather · 1 year

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yjh’s birthdays in different world lines

#i just #that line in the 0th turn when yjh goes like "just because i'll forget about them doesn't mean they'll stop existing #and then he says i shall pray that you may continue to exist somewhere too #like HELLO #the fucking. love #it's enough to know that they're happy somewhere #that they still exist somewhere #AND LIKE. yjh the lonely pilgrim of the apocalypse whose birthdays had lost meaning to him #those birthdays were still being celebrated by the people who remembered and loved him #they definitely still existed somewhere #his story touched so many people #AAAARRRRGRGGGHHH #ORV #orv spoilers #yoo joonghyuk #my art #reposts from twitter

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void-and-virtue · 2 years

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Neil as a team captain is positively delightful, because making him captain is both absolutely insane and absolutely brilliant. It capitalizes on the passive effect of having one (1) Neil Josten (god knows the world couldn’t handle if there were more of him) on the team in the most efficient way. Like. I’m 90% sure that after spending some time around him on the same team, most people will look up to him completely awestruck for how much he has impacted their lives, but that’s just not what is actually happening here. I feel like what’s going on is this:

Neil is a terribly amazing choice for team captain entirely because Neil is a meddlesome little asshole who will forcibly fix all of his teammates’ personal problems and improve their entire lives for literally no other reason than that he needs them to be able to focus on fucking ball so he can win at sports. It’s not even that he genuinely cares about people and their well-being (apart from his original foxes). He just gets pissed when things aren’t working properly because it makes Exy annoying when the lineup can’t communicate. Exy isn’t supposed to be annoying. Exy is life. He’d meddle whether he is captain or not, but by making him captain, he has so much more official executive power at his hands. It’s like people are explicitly asking for him to do his worst. So, fueled by his own competitiveness and love for the sport, off he goes.

Neil is just as bad as Kevin when it comes to his Exy obsession. The major difference between them is that Kevin is endlessly tactical and he runs Exy with a focus on a technical and physical level entirely, whereas Neil’s approach is to look beyond a lack of practice and basically psychoanalyzing people on why they are not doing 110% for Exy. Kevin says “let’s run this drill 500 times, then we will inevitably be better”. Meanwhile Neil is scheming how to coerce and bribe people into life-changing decisions and long-needed healing, entirely because he wants to optimize playing a sport. Exy is a team sport, which is why this is the most logical approach his little Exy brain comes up with rather than minding his own fucking business. He looks at the team and is like “is anyone gonna whip this into shape? No?? I’ll fucking do it then cowards” and goes and does exactly that. It’s like he’s fixing the equipment so he can play.

I don’t think anyone except for Andrew is really aware that Neil really isn’t doing this out of the innate goodness of his heart, but because his personal brand of practicality involves the most convoluted and creative kind of scheming. I feel like Neil is a lot more selfish than people give him credit for. Sure, there’s people he cares deeply and unconditionally for, but that’s really not everyone. It’s fascinating to watch, especially because it’s not like he ever hides that he doesn’t particularly care, but people kinda assume he does, because why else would he put in this much effort?

Exy. The answer is Exy.

#Andrew hates him for this #but I also feel like it’s Andrew’s favorite pass time to just watch Neil do as Neil does #you can’t take the meddling out of Neil #first year was Neil meddling on steroids basically bc he thought he was gonna die so he had to optimize Exy to play and had no choice #that’s how he fixed the foxes the first time #but even so #even if he doesn’t care about most of the new foxes or his eventual pro teams as much #I don’t think he will ever stop with this kind of stuff because I’m dead certain he gets so annoyed when exy isn’t exy-ing #that he ends up fixing problems the majority of people would not be able to eben pick up on just by association #Neil ‘he found their humanity interesting’ Josten #he doesn’t need the death threats to motivate him #somewhere in the background Andrew is watching his every move and realizing time and time again how terrifyingly smart Neil is #and how well he can put his observations to use in really ruthless unapologetic ways #and then Andrew is faced with the reality that all of that brainpower is being used for exy and exy alone #thinking about Neil will kill that man one day I stg #aftg #all for the game #neil josten #kevin day #andrew minyard #andreil #aftg headcanon #aftg meta #character analysis #post canon #the foxhole court #tfc

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lomltrentarnold · 1 year

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Can you do Trent or Jude being so clingy , always hugging your waist can be short or long ur choice🙏🏼

❛ clingy. ❜ — trent alexander-arnold

‣ warnings : long fic!! clingy baby :(, they’re both clingy tbh, the boys teasing, love struck fools, kissing, & physical touch is kind of their love language, lots of pet names, mentions of eating.

‣ hana’s notes : hey babes <3 i decided to make this a long fic cause i was having too much fun 😭 also because im in love with both of them i’ll do a jude version next !! hope you like this one 🫶 the ending is kind of awkward im sorry 🫠

MAIN MASTERLIST

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

the lights were playing tricks on your eyes, first it was blue and then it turned purple and then it was green. the music was deafening, that much you knew, you could hear it from where you were standing outside the house. the party was in full swing, there were confettis everywhere, cups littered on the floor and bodies dancing in the middle of the room.

it was supposed to be a small celebration, but by the loud sounds of cheers, yells and people singing along the music, you didn’t think that was the case.

your boyfriend was at your side, arm tucked neatly on your waist as your fingers tangled with his.

“didn’t think there would be this many people.” trent chimed, his body was slightly bent so that his mouth was on the same level as your ear. you choose to ignore the shivers you felt.

you laughed at that, this is definitely not a small celebration, “yeah.”

“trent!”

you both snapped your head towards the familiar voice, seeing hendo waving to get your attention. he was surrounded by the other liverpool players, you couldn’t make them all because of the lighting but seeing the shadow it looked like virgil and milly were beside him.

trent waved back as you both navigate through the crowd, making your way to them. trent’s hand never leaving your body.

“glad you guys could make it!” virgil exclaimed, patting your boyfriend’s back in greeting, before sending you a warm smile.

the conversation went on, you telling the squad some stories and drama that has happened in your life the past week. the boys all soaking it up and even giving feedbacks for your situation which you appreciate for. (even if ibou’s and milly’s advice was just telling your so called friends to mind their damn business, you still appreciate it.)

you were so engrossed in your storytelling that you didn’t even noticed that trent was staring at you with awe filled eyes.

he loved seeing you like this, interacting with his teammates like you have known them since forever, the boys treating you like their little sister and giving you advice, and the fact that you all get along so well is making him feel emotions he hasn’t felt in a while. he wanted to pepper your face with kisses.

you turned to look at him, when you noticed that he became quiet. “do i have something on my face?” you whispered, eyebrows furrowing in concentration on wiping your left cheek.

cute. he thinks.

trent chuckled and shook his head, “no, babe. you look fine.” he paused, “gorgeously, fine.” he added, hands wiping invisible lint at the corner of your lip.

he could’ve swore he could see stars in your eyes at his compliment. the sight made him grin as it mirrored the one that you wore.

you only broke apart your little staring contest when you realised that everyone has stopped talking. you turned to see the boys were all looking at you and trent. some with smirks on their faces, some with soft smiles.

but the same thought crossed their minds at that time, trentski is in love. in love.

you cleared your throat, feeling sheepish, “i’m getting some snacks okay.”

you started to move but didn’t get far because of trent’s arm that was still wrapped around your waist. you tried to move again, thinking he would loosen up his grip, but it only got tighter.

turning your head to look at him, you were met with the famous sight you have come to be accustomed with. the sight that you always fail no say no to. trent’s big brown doe eyes eyeing you with an adorable pout settling on his lips.

damn it, how is he so perfect.

you could already hear his pleads, be quick, please. don’t leave me too long. wanna be close to you.

you kissed his cheek, a giggle escaping your lips. “be right back.” trent reluctantly removed his arm from your waist as you manoeuvre your way to the snacks table.

there is a plethora of choices, chips, sweets, vegetables, cakes, even fruits. you could hear your stomach grumbling in hunger, quickly picking up a paper plate and filling it up with watermelon cubes.

you were so deep in thought of the food in front of you, you didn’t realise the lingering figure that was closing in your space. a sudden pair of hands laid on your hips almost made you drop your plate in shock, but when a certain perfume scent hit your nose and a certain dread-head lands his face in the crook of your neck, nuzzling his nose there and inhaling your scent. you had an idea of who it was.

“you said it’d be quick.” trent mumbled against your neck; you almost didn’t hear him.

you laughed, and you could feel trent’s lips curling upwards at the sound, “i’ve only been gone for 3 minutes.” you teased, rolling your eyes.

and as if trent could feel that you rolled your eyes, he gave your hip a little pinch. you jumped a bit at that, puffs of laughter leaving your lips.

there was a few moments of silence between you two. you relax against the boys chest, his arms securing itself on your waist as you guys sway to whatever song was playing.

you placed one of the watermelon cubes in your mouth, doing the same to trent, feeding him over your shoulder as you both munch on the fruit, “this is your party, baby. go enjoy yourself.” you expressed, feeling slightly guilty that you took him away from having fun with his teammates.

little did you know that he wanted to be next to you.

even his teammates advised him to do so, noticing his constant fidgeting the second you left.

although he was called a simp by alex and robbo —which then left bobby confused on what that meant and they had to explain to him— he wasted no time trudging the crowd to get to you.

after you finished filling up your plate with goodies, you turned your body to face trent. your faces inches away, lips touching but not feeling. bodies so close that all you guys can feel was each other. you were in your own little bubble.

where all you could feel was him. him. him

one of trent’s hand left your waist moving to your cheek. his thumb grazing your cheekbones with softness that made you all mushy.

“yer so pretty.” trent whispered softly, the volume of his voice making it seem like it was a secret. like you were the only one that’s meant to know. like you were the only one that matters.

feeling flustered you rushed out, “you’re pretty as well.” letting your face melt into his palm.

trent let out a little chuckle, dazzling smile on display that makes your insides all gooey. he gives your forehead and cheek a fleeting kiss, his pillowy lips feeling soft on your warm skin, —the warm skin that was caused by the attention that the footballer was giving you— he licked his lips, making your eyes involuntarily evert to them before landing a sweet kiss to your lips.

your head feels dizzy, your cheeks were flushed, your legs are a little wobbly and your heart feels like it could burst from the affection.

“here you lovebirds are!”

the little bubble you and trent formed was interrupted by robbo’s bellowing voice.

“thought you lot went to shag.”

you laughed at his reaction, the boys’ relationship was honestly your favourite.

“robbo!” trent shockingly exclaimed.

“what?! it’s was an educated guess!”

reblog to support!

#i could go on and on and on abt this fic #but ut had to stop somewhere #maybe the excess ideas that i have will be used in jude’s version #no one knowsss 🫣🫣🫣#i dont really know how to end this so yeah <3 #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold fic #trent alexander arnold fluff #taa #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander x you #trent arnold #football #football x you #football x reader #football x y/n #football imagine #hana writes!

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muntadhir · 28 days

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Jacked up the brightness obscenely on the menu screen after Romeo's fight. Looks like the papers are articles "about the plague" (pretty sure these are on some walls or the floor somewhere too; just wanted to note it's not unique here but omg what if there WERE unique papers from/to Romeo).

I'm just nosy af and wanted a peek

#remember how some of the papers in Geppetto's study are about a war #I HAD TO LOOK #I WANTED TO KNOW #ok I'm done I have to do work #I will be annoying another day #sorry someone's probably already looked here before AND I WILL LOOK AGAIN!!!!!#there are three chairs around the table which makes sense because that's how they are at the opera house #I have bad headcanon about that anyway though I HAVE BAD HEADCANONS AND I CANNOT BE STOPPED #re: Geppetto's weird papers on the war -- I feel like there's probably more stuff like that somewhere in the game #irrelevant but fascinating 2 me #lies of p #俺の

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redbootsindoriath · 20 days

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Apparently in my absence this post had its 1000-notes-iversary.

This time we get to see the culprit responsible for ruining our heroes' lives as well.

I've really missed you guys, by the way. I know I've said that already, but I'm serious. Once or twice this year I've been right on the brink of coming back but schedule stuff always keeps me from letting myself commit to that again, and that in turn has kept me from posting anything at all. But I've been in an unexpected drawing mood lately and so if I can get enough stuff to set up a queue we might pretend I'm back for a month or so sometime this year. Maybe. Hopefully. We'll see. No promises though. That's why I'm hiding this paragraph under the cut.

Transcription:

[Beren:] "Uhhh...barkeep...I think he's had enough now..." [Tolkien:] "No, I don't think he has...!"

#beren #bilbo #frodo #tolkien #túrin #the man the myth the legends #beowulf except everybody is short #one shiny #three shinies #everyone deserved better except mîm #what's this a happy ending #my trash #is this actually funny or am i just tired #i'm sorry professor tolkien #/end classification tags #túrin keeps becoming a bigger and bigger guy in my drawings and at this rate he's going to be way taller and broader than he should be #canonically he was really tall and broad but i don't think the professor meant like THIS #at least it makes him really distinct i guess #gonna be sufficiently intimidating for the dagor dagorath #but in the meantime he's just making beren look like a schoolkid in this doodle #(and as i'm sitting here writing these tags i suddenly realize i forgot túrin's white hair streaks again)#(tsk tsk shame on me)#(and didn't it say somewhere that beren's hair also turned grey...? i can't remember where it said that though)#(0 for 2 i have failed all of us)#ANYWAY in my absence tumblr apparently changed formatting again which is not cool but whatever #it's nice to draw again #i've had art block for like 9 months straight #and suddenly this month i suddenly was able to write AND draw again as if i never stopped #i've had writer's block since maybe 2021 so that was the most surprising part #weirdest thing ever but i'm not mad about it

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rontra · 8 months

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some zee outfits with Ourple Zatanna 😌

this canvas was way too big. dont let me make it this big again. but i had fun Can someone explain the rationale behind the lobster bug though

#dc comics #zatanna #i read somewhere [citation needed] that DC didn't use Y2 or Y3 in print until like . 1969 or smthg. neat if true #also i had a dream the other night that someone sent me the funniest anon that was like “can you STOP drawing purple zatanna already” 😭#this one's for you... dream anon....

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bardicblast · 4 months

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✨moonlight densetsu✨

#dungeons and dragons #curse of strahd #artists on tumblr #dnd character #werewolf #dnd werewolf #dnd #sailor moon #dnd art #dnd bard #i made this before holiday break so its actually my last drawing from 2023 #werewolf sailor moon propaganda #i had to stop in the middle of coloring bc i looked at it and went no..something is missing...oh right. the blood #is it even a cos drawing if there is no blood in it somewhere at this point lol #that is ireena's shoe btw she lent it to him for this one #(i needed to put the red triangles there for balance actually)

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skyward-floored · 7 months

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Whumptober Day 20: Found family, Blanket

*shuffles feet*

...in my defense, I almost entirely finished this yesterday, I just wasn’t about to go trying to edit and post it at like 11:30 at night (though this note probably would have been a lot more interesting if I had lol).

Anyway. Continuation to day 17! I apologize for the delay and hope the wait was worth it 😓

Day 17

Read on ao3

Warnings: same as day 17, injuries, torture mentions, a short nightmare, just bad times for Twilight

————————————————————

Getting out was a blur.

Link forced himself to stay awake as the leader of the heroes (had he even said his name? ...If he had he couldn’t remember) carried him, but focusing on much of anything was difficult. The ever-present pain weighed him down like a heavy load, old scars and new injuries adding endless layers of suffering, and even just being carried in someone’s arms was agony.

There was the leftover burn from the magic too— though the chains that had secured him were gone, the manacles were still on his wrists and the collar was still around his neck, and they ached, his whole body still shaking from the ordeal of removing the chains.

It was a struggle not to just pass out.

But the part of him that still screamed not to trust stay on alert be prepared for him to come back was stronger. It had been honed from countless jarring awakenings, pain ripping him back from already restless sleeps, and so he stayed awake, no matter how badly he wanted to rest.

The man holding him shifted his grip as he went up some stairs, and Link felt his breath hitch as some of his injuries were nudged. The man whispered an apology, and gently squeezed one of the few spots of skin that didn’t have an open wound on it.

Link flinched anyway.

The touch immediately retreated, and Link was torn between being relieved and crying at the loss of it.

Part of him still expected them to suddenly turn on him, the kind touches becoming bruising ones, gentle hands turned to claws and knives. But... he also craved it. He desperately wanted somebody to pat him on the shoulder and hug him and run their hand through his hair, but any of the touch he’d received so far had been like torture.

He truly couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt a touch that didn’t involve pain in some way. He could barely stomach it now, no matter how well-meaning, and he hated it.

Was there anything left the Shadow hadn’t taken from him?

Voices suddenly rang down the hall, and Link stiffened, straining his ears to try and figure out who— or what they were.

One of the other heroes who’d gotten him out (the one with the Master Sword, he thought. He really needed names) called out, and soon there were unfamiliar faces and words being exchanged and questions directed at him and all he could do was close his eyes, overwhelmed by the sudden amount of people surrounding him.

How many were there?

“... got Legend pretty bad, but we beat him off and he disappeared,” a polished voice spoke, and Link twitched an ear his direction. What was he talking about? A legend?

“I’m fine,” a sharper voice cut in, and Link thought it seemed younger then the other one. “You didn’t need to use that fairy, that was our last one!”

“Well what was I supposed to do?”

“Save it for the reason we came here in the first place! He’s way more injured than I was!”

“Legend,” a softer voice spoke up, sounding exasperated, “...you were pretty bad. And you know we don’t take chances with injuries caused by the Shadow.”

A sick feeling abruptly surged over Link at the name, along with an intense hatred and fear and horror and too many emotions for his mind to handle at the moment. Link’s breath stuttered against his will, and the man holding him frowned.

“You don’t think the Shadow is still here, do you?” The small hero with the colorful tunic asked, and the voices paused.

“Probably... not,” Link croaked, and they all looked at him.

He swallowed.

“Do you know where he is?” a man in a deep blue scarf asked, and Link exhaled, gathering his strength.

“No,” Link managed to get out, and the voices stayed quiet. “Probably not. But he usually... usually powered ‘self before... fights.”

“...powered himself?” a younger voice asked in an anxious tone, and Link closed his eyes again. Hadn’t they known? Or at least figured it out based on what they’d seen?

All he was was a battery.

“Thank you Link, I’m sorry we brought it up,” the leader apologized, and Link made a noncommittal noise. “We’re almost out, hold on.”

They began moving again, and Link caught several people looking at him, though most of them stopped when they realized he’d noticed. A teenager with a stripe of pink in his hair didn’t though, and Link found himself staring, curious about the look of him. He gave him an awkward little nod, and Link tried to return it, though he wasn’t sure if he succeeded.

They were all so different, were these really heroes like him?

The Shadow had mentioned other heroes once or twice, but Link usually had no clue what he was talking about, or if he did, refused to say anything.

Besides, he was usually too busy screaming to listen anyhow.

Something bright shone out of the corner of his eye, and Link turned to look at it, his heart speeding up at the sight of a large entryway. The group hurriedly went through it, and Link was almost blinded from how bright it was after they walked through.

He blinked furiously, needing to see what was going on, and finally his eyes adjusted and he looked around in shock.

Sunlight.

Faint, barely-there, dim autumn sunlight that struggled to shine through the trees, but the sight of it nearly made Link sob.

He was outside.

He could see sunlight shining through yellow and orange leaves, eventually joined by the sound of birds and other creatures as they went along, air that wasn’t stale rushing past his face and making all his injuries hurt more but he didn’t care a bit.

He was out.

He was crying he realized, and he closed his eyes, overwhelmed by it all.

It wasn’t a trick. He’d never gotten this far the few times he’d been brought out, they were really who they said they were, they must be, and they’d gotten him out of the darkness.

Someone might’ve said something to him, but the overwhelming sensation of being outside had finally pushed Link to his limit, and he gave up on his fight to stay awake.

Darkness swept him away, it’s touch more gentle then he’d felt in a long time.

(...)

The heroes didn’t stop traveling until they were plenty far away from the oppressive ruins where they’d found Link, the trip passing in almost complete silence.

Link had passed out in Time’s arms not long after they’d finally exited, tears on his face, and Time couldn’t help but be somewhat relieved.

Watching Link remain in an almost stubborn state of alertness, ears twitching towards any sound, flinching when Time adjusted him, had been agonizing to watch. His body desperately needed rest, but he’d been stubbornly refusing it until they were out.

He’s certainly one of us, no doubt about that, Time thought with a sigh.

Sky grabbed a bedroll the moment they found a safe place to stop, and Time carefully lowered Link onto it, trying to avoid any injuries. He had several on his back, but they set him down as softly as possible, and Link didn’t wake.

“That’s really him?” Wind asked in a small voice as Warriors moved over to carefully look over all of Link’s injuries, cursing under his breath more than once.

“This is him,” Time replied quietly, trying to clean some of the blood and dirt out of Link’s hair. Now that they were out of the ruins, it was even more obvious how badly Link was in need of being cleaned up and cared for, and Time focused on not being overwhelmed by the task.

What all did he go through in there?

“What happened to him?” Legend said in a voice full of quiet horror, and Wild harshly kicked a rock into a tree.

“What didn’t?” he bit out in a fragile voice, and Sky put a hand on his arm, saying something that Time didn’t catch.

Warriors accidentally brushed a hand against Link’s collarbone then, and his eyes shot open, nearly throwing himself backwards away from the touch.

“Get away!” he snarled, voice hoarse, and Warriors immediately backed up.

“Whoa, easy,” Warriors quickly reassured, putting his hands up. “I’m only checking which of your injuries need to be cleaned so we can give you a potion. We don’t want anything healing inside them.”

Link glared at him in suspicion, but when Time moved into his line of sight, he relaxed a little.

“He’s helping, Link, I promise,” he reassured, and Link slowly relaxed, though he remained awake. Time glanced around at the other heroes as Warriors finished his examination, and saw that most of them were either looking at Link, or pointedly not looking at him as they worked on setting up camp.

It seemed none of them were quite certain how to deal with seeing one of their own in such a state.

Wild came over when he noticed Time watching them all, and he looked at Link, uncertainty on his face.

“Can I help at all?” he asked, voice stronger then it had been, and Time looked over at Warriors.

“These all need to be cleaned, and it’s not going to be easy for him,” the captain reported quietly, looking over his chest. “The faster we can get it done the better.”

“Link, we need to clean you up before we can heal you,” Time said as he knelt at his side, and Link gave him a bleary look. “It won’t be pleasant, but it needs to be done.”

Link breathed out and nodded, looking up at Time with shadows under his eyes.

“Go ahead,” he whispered.

Time gave him a faint smile, and Wild knelt beside him as they got to work.

It took a long time scrubbing all of the dirt out and disinfecting the injuries Link was coated in. They focused on cleaning the actual wounds, but Time knew Link would need the rest of himself cleaned up at some point, dirt and blood and all sorts of grime coated on his skin.

But that can wait.

Link was stiff throughout the entire process, trembling when they got to certain injuries, and trying not to cry out when they used the alcohol Warriors had provided to disinfect. The worst part was his face, which Time carefully washed up, but Link was nearly in tears by the time he finished cleaning the slice that cut right through the dark lines on his forehead.

But they finally finished, and Link sagged, his breathing shaking. Hyrule came forward then, and offered to heal him, and Link gave him a curious look.

“It’s a healing spell, it’ll be more thorough than a potion,” he explained. He faintly lit up his hands to demonstration, but Link immediately recoiled from the light.

“No, no n-no magic!” Link breathed, a flicker of terror in his eyes.

Hyrule immediately backed off, and Link’s cheeks flushed as he calmed down.

“I... I’m sorry, I-I...”

“No, I understand, that’s okay,” Hyrule said kindly, and Link swallowed and looked away, cheeks still red.

“Potions will be enough,” Time said peaceably, and Hyrule took out a few, handing them to Time. Though a fairy or healing spell would be preferable. “Take it slow, Link.”

Sky helped him carefully sit Link up, and Time helped him drink the entire red potion, slowly so as not to overwhelm his stomach. He eagerly sipped at it, and the most intense of his injuries began to knit closed, angry lines and deep gouges, and places that must be barely healed-over stab wounds—

Time exhaled, and lowered Link back to the ground as he finished, anger stirring in his chest.

The Shadow will pay for this.

“Try and get some more rest, Link. You’re safe with us,” Time said gently as he set the bottle aside, and rested a careful hand on Link’s.

He flinched, but after a long moment, slowly gripped it back. His hand shook as Time brushed his thumb over the dirtied triangles on the back, but he didn’t let go, even though Time knew holding on was hard.

You’re safe.

(...)

The next few days trickled by slowly, Link struggling to adjust to life not imprisoned in a hole being used as some sort of dark power source.

His injuries were healing, albeit slowly due to the sheer amount of them, but he was struggling more with the other scars his imprisonment had left him. He still couldn’t handle much touch, or large amounts of food, and he’d rarely sleep for long periods of time, waking up sweating and shaking from memories he hadn’t told the rest of them about yet.

Four made it his personal mission to remove the collar and bands from around his neck and wrists, since all they did was serve as a reminder for all them of the torture he’d endured.

Link wanted them off more than anyone, and he patiently sat through all of Four’s attempts at removal. The smithy finally succeeded with the help of some of Legend’s items and tools, Link nearly crying with relief at them gone, but the pale scars underneath the metal were almost worse.

They couldn’t be removed.

Time tried his best to help Link adjust, but it was hard when he could only give them the bare minimum of what he’d endured, and stubbornly tried to insist he was fine and they didn’t need to fuss over him. Even after he’d wake up gasping from a nightmare, Link would try to muffle his cries in order not to wake anyone, and couldn’t stand even a grounding hand on his shoulder.

It was at times like these Time wished Malon were here. She would know exactly how to comfort the traumatized boy they’d all found themselves with, better than Time ever could.

How do we help him, Malon? he thought one night as he studied Link’s slumbering face. His scars were harder to see in the dark, but Time knew they were there, slashed across his forehead, his chest... and his heart.

How did you ever handle me?

Time didn’t find any one answer, but as time slowly went by, Link did open up, at least a little. As they all explained more about themselves, he was willing to do so a bit too, explaining some of his journey, and telling the dark marks on his forehead actually weren’t a result of his imprisonment, though not exactly explaining what they were from.

His favorite thing to talk about was his home village though, and the longing in his voice was impossible to miss.

Time would have carried him there himself if it had been at all possible, but they were a long ways away from Ordon, and Link could barely walk across the clearing they were camped in without needing a rest. Taking him home would have to wait, as much as Time disliked it.

But in the meantime, the other heroes did their best to help Link as well, Wild figuring out what was easiest for him to eat, Warriors and Hyrule dutifully checking up on his injuries. Wind liked to tell him stories whenever he was struggling not to dwell on memories, sometimes getting Four to tell a few, and Legend even laid out his weapons and offered to let Link borrow one, until they could get him a sword of his own.

Sky often just let him hold the Master Sword, Link’s hands clutching the hilt as he sat in silence.

It seemed to comfort him, often when the rest of them couldn’t, and while Time couldn’t relate, he was glad it helped.

Time could also tell it was killing Sky not to be able to comfort Link with touch, at all, but Link was still working up to anything more then his hand being held. He would just have to do it at his own pace, as hard as it was to watch him struggle.

And things didn’t change in that regard, until all of a sudden they did.

(...)

Link closed his eyes as the tip of a blade pressed against his chin. He wouldn’t panic. This happened almost every day, and he wouldn’t panic. He wouldn’t give the Shadow the satisfaction of it.

“You’re not going to beg today?” he asked almost curiously, and Link licked his lips, tasting blood. “I might even listen, you never know.”

“I’ve never begged,” he said in a cold voice.

He wouldn’t stoop to that level, he’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t. It was one of the few ways he felt like he had a choice in the matter, and he knew it made the Shadow mad when when he remained silent.

He wouldn’t give his captor the satisfaction.

The Shadow leaned in so they were eye-to-eye, and Link stared at the crimson glow of his eyes, trying not to let his breath hitch.

“Well. Let’s see if we can change that, shall we?”

And then the blade flicked down, pain ripping across his chest. At at the same time the metal around his neck lit up like the lava on death mountain, burning into him, searing down the line where the sword had struck, and Link screamed as he felt magic bore into him and sap away every bit of his strength—

He woke up.

Link jerked upright, pain still blinding him, and he might’ve screamed but he wasn’t sure. Darkness was around him, lit only by the Shadow’s glowing eyes and he knew it had all been a dream, he hadn’t been rescued after all and he was never going to get out—

Link breathed heavily, clutching at his neck, certain he could still feel the collar, magic burning into him, feel his strength ripped away as injuries were torn into his chest—

“Link,” a soft voice said, and he heaved in another breath, hands still pressed to his neck. “Link, you’re out, you’re safe.”

He managed to raise his head, and saw Time kneeling carefully beside him, a hand outstretched in a calming gesture.

He swallowed, breathing in another shaky breath, and looked around, slowly recognizing the campsite they’d been at for the past several days. The light he’d seen was the campfire, not the Shadow’s eyes, and he felt relief start to soak through the terror.

He wasn’t there. He wasn’t back.

His breath hitched, and Time moved closer to him, offering him a hand to take if he wanted it.

Link stared at it, then began to shake, feeling suddenly overwhelmed at everything again.

He was out. He wasn’t a prisoner. He was out and safe and he’d been there for so long but he was out but he wasn’t home but he was home, brothers he never knew he had saving him and their kindness made his chest ache because he’d done nothing to deserve it and despite waking them up and slowing them down and pushing away their help they kept coming back and he’d done nothing—

A sob broke out of him as the sheer scale of everything suddenly crashed down onto him, and Time’s eye widened.

Then he leaned forward, and slowly, carefully, put an arm around him.

Link’s breath hitched with another sob, stiffening as the touch settled across his back, but as Time tried to move, he clutched at his arm, silently begging him not to let go. The touch was like fire on his back, but it soothed a part of him that he hadn’t even realized had been hurting so much.

Time hesitated as Link shuddered, then he lifted his other arm, pulling him into an actual hug, tight and warm.

That destroyed any composure Link had left, and he buried his face in Time’s shoulder, crying harder than he had in a long time. The touch all around him was awful and wonderful and agonizing and pure relief, and the sensation made him shake with how overwhelming it was.

“You’re okay,” Time whispered as Link fell to pieces in his arms. He ran a hand through his hair, and Link’s breath hitched on another sob. “You’re okay. I’ve got you, Link.”

Link had no clue as to the last time he’d received a hug, but this one, as messy and awful and painful as it was, was probably the best.

(...)

After that night, Link often found himself in a pile of heroes whenever he went to bed.

Wild would curl up at his side, Sky would end up with an arm flung out on top of him, Wind and Four by his head. Sometimes all of them would end up around him, and Link would nearly cry if he woke up and realized, falling back asleep more deeply then he had in months.

It was wonderful.

He was still struggling to get back on his own two feet, building his strength, still dealing with the fact that he’d always have the scars from his imprisonment, that he still sometimes woke up screaming in the middle of the night.

But he knew he’d have the others to support him, as hard as it was to let them. He still had moments where he’d push them away, when touch hurt instead of helped, when the thought of giving up crossed his mind, and didn’t seem like too bad of an option.

But he wouldn’t give up. Dark Link may have crushed him, but he wouldn’t be kept down, even though at times it seemed nearly impossible.

He would keep going.

And as Link leaned against Sky’s shoulder one night, Time’s arm over his shoulders, Wild and Four sitting leaned up against his feet while the others sat close by, it wasn’t nearly as hard to believe that he might be... okay.

Ordon would have to wait a bit longer, until he’d regained his strength, and could properly swing a sword, but until then...

A hand ran through his hair, and Link exhaled, the feeling of safety like a warm blanket around his shoulders.

...Link could wait.

#not pictured: dink being blown up by the FD next time Time sees him #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu twilight #lu time #linked universe fanfic #all the links #lu chain #whumptober 2023 #day 20 #fic #found family #blanket #writing from the floor #also not pictured: Link finding horse grass and giving epona many kisses #this is messy but I got emotional writing it and my writing gets messy when I’m emotional XD #plus a lot was written late last night haha...#anyway I hope you guys like it #I wanted to make it even even longer but I had to stop somewhere 😅

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