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whumprecs · 10 months ago

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you’ve prob done this but umbrella academy whump/angst recs?? all ur others are so good!

Sorry about the delay! So I am a huge Five fan, so most of them are slanted that way, though I think Diego sneaks in there a few times -but also they're almost all Family Fics.

I'm going to leave off the NSFW/non-con ones I know of, just in case. If you are interested, feel free to send another anon ask (or message if you would prefer) and I'll send links.

i'm walking backward into my own myth by eluvion Five is in 1963. He’s in 2019. He’s in 2002. Time is falling apart, and Five is in every piece. Five is a disease, and time is coughing up a lung.

Or; Five Hargreeves breaks time.

I kept running (for a soft place to fall) by chromaticality He'd hoped they had given up. Really, he should have known better. The Handler thinks he's the solution to all her problems. Five thinks he'd like to turn the whole place into a slaughterhouse. But with Allison and Luther caught in the crossfire, Five has to cooperate with the Commission's plans until he can figure out a way to get everyone home.

No Time, No Time, Dear Brother O’ Mine by I_Logophile

At Gimbel Brothers department store, Five’s injury is a bit more serious than a simple bullet graze. Not that it matters to him.

That is, until the police show up while he’s trying to leave, and Five finds himself remembering things he’d rather forget. -- There’s something going on with his brother. That much is very clear to Diego.

Why else is Five at a crime scene? Why else is he attacking the people trying to help him? Why else is he going around ranting about time?

There’s something going on with his brother. And Diego is going to find out what.

He just has to get Five some medical attention first.

the walls kept tumbling down by Ingu It started small.

There was a nagging ache in his chest, phantom pain from where the bullets had pierced his flesh, in the overwritten timeline that never will be.

(the one where rewinding time doesn't miraculously resolve mortal gunshot wounds)

Here, Beneath My Lungs by beastboy12

After they get back from the 60's, Five starts investigating a string of suspicious murders while distancing himself from a family he's convinced he's already lost. So, naturally, Klaus and Diego join him. "Holy shit, Five," Diego says, rushing forward. "What the hell happened to you?" Five is off-balanced by the sight of Diego. Shouldn’t he be at the other address? What is he doing here? Klaus appears on the other side of Diego and lets out a laugh that sounds almost frantic. "Oh, thank God you can see him, too.” “Why are you here?” Five says. Diego scoffs. “Yeah, no, the one covered in blood doesn’t get to ask questions.”

Series

Part 1 of Five is an emotionally stunted yogurt lid

The Longest Roads Lead to Home by assaily (twistedskys) Five raised his glass to the rafters. “I’m home,” he said simply. “I’d like to take the time to enjoy that, y’know.”

Diego watched him pour another drink, suddenly understanding him. He’d been gone a long time, lost in a really terrible place that probably never felt like home unless he could somehow forget he was the last soul on Earth. ‘Home’ meant a lot to him.

When Five’s glass was ready again, Diego raised his own, still half-full. “To being home,” he said.

That earned him a smile, a real one that managed to soothe the crease in Five’s brow and make him look so incredibly young in its sincerity, and so incredibly old in its deep gratitude. He raised his glass and clinked it against Diego’s. “To finally being home.”

~-~

Or; Five gets kidnapped and it goes wrong (for the kidnapper).

heart heart head by morimaru

a series of hurt/comfort snippets featuring Five.

Blink by Lady_Origami When Five blinks, sometimes he's back in the world of ash and embers. It's hard to remember how to breathe when that happens. In which Klaus tries to play the role of supportive brother with Ben's help, and Five struggles more than he lets on.

Can you hug me as I go? by maddienole What if the FBI captured Five instead of Vanya?

2x7 canon divergence.

Simple by sharkneto Diego runs into Five at the park. He’s just here to catch a mugger. Why does Five always complicate things?

Lend a Hand by sharkneto If Luther’s being honest, he’s not sure how they’re going to get out of this one. Effectively trapped and powers negated, the Umbrella Academy is in a dire position.

Luther really needs to stop underestimating the lengths Five is willing to go to save his family.

Howling at the Moon by assaily (twistedskys) Five is now a permanent resident of the Hotel Oblivion. The rooms are crap, service is even worse, and he's pretty sure his family left him here. But at least they're safe, right?

A pre-season 3 AU of season 3, Hotel-as-a-prison concept from the comics.

lie awake, sleep awake by morimaru Number Five does not get sick. He refuses to be sick. His body obeys. Right up until it doesn't. (- this one is literally my favorite of all of these rec's, I have lost count how many times I've read it)

and all the kids cried out by morimaru The one where Five is sick, the Handler is clingy and hard to get rid of even after death, and Klaus has a ghost-busting side-gig that is a lot less exciting than it sounds.

Guilt Trip by I_Logophile In typical Five Hargreeves fashion, a drug ring bust with his family turns into a rescue mission, which turns into a complete and utter shitshow. Because, of course, things had to go sideways— No, scratch that. Things didn't just go sideways, things went upside down, backward, and inside out. And then got blown up. Literally.

In the aftermath of the whole fiasco, Five is left reeling, floundering, drowning in guilt.

Because how could he have done that?

How could he have attacked his family?

spoiled by morimaru Number Five is a survivor. He fought his whole life: he fought their father, the apocalypse, the commission, then – the apocalypse, again. Having made that fateful jump back to 2019, he unwillingly left his old body with all of its scars behind. Physical ones, at least. It’s funny, in a way, that the hardest thing for him to fight ends up being food.

The Dangers of Vigilanteing by aceofwhump Diego gets injured during one of his vigilante acts and is forced to go back to the one place he swore he'd never return: The Umbrella Academy

Also, the best way I've found to get to the fics I want in this fandom is to troll through favorites of the authors of my favorite fics. Most fandoms that doesn't seem to work, but this one it does. Happy reading, and again - sorry about the delay!

#the umbrella academy #five the boy #five hargreeves #diego hargreeves #TUA #tua five #whump rec #asks answered very very late

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readingismyhobby24 · 2 months ago

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hihihiii faith !!!!! how r u doing today? i went camping :3 :3

i built a fire, put up and took down a tent (with a partner tho), tried to carve a tent steak?? i didnt have enough time to finish it :(

i havent gone camping since like march this year so i had a lot of fun :D we do different activities in like a competition and we get like ribbons tomorrow >:3 every group also had themes and mine was natural disasters (i was blizzard but i took the shirt off halfway through cuz i was wearing one underneath and it was so hot outside) (my troop was split into 2 teams, natural disasters and grandmas🐀)

i made a new friend and they like will woods music :3 very awesome sauce

i wish i brought my link plush 💔 but it is what it is !! :3

i hope this sends through jsldjlsjxpsnsozjpwk

its a shovel … will wood reference ???? hand me my shovel, im going in !!!!

Hiiii!!! I'm doing pretty good today! My arm feels a lot better (still hurts a lot though 😔) I worked a little bit on a whumptober fic, so yaayyy!!!!! Right now I'm eating ice cream (dairy free though, because I'm lactose intolerant 😭)

That's so cool! I've never gone camping before, but it sounds like a lot of fun! That sounds so cool! It's seriously way too hot for late September. Like, I'm ready for the cool air now, I need it to come!!!!

That's so fun that you found a friend! And that they share a huge interest of yours!

The pictures look so cool!!! And of course it's a Will Wood reference. What else would it be lol 😂

I hope you had a lot of fun! Thank you for dropping by and sharing!

#faith's asks #faith's little rambles

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sassy-ahsoka-tano · 2 years ago

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DADDY ISSUES - Part Four: Vegas

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Your new life is amazing, without Elvis. Well, at least until you get a mysterious package in the mail that's about to change your life. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: a friend fight with some harsh words that were painful to write but i don't think anything else!

Rating: Pg-13 || Word Count: 5058

A/N: ahhh it's been AGES i know but i've been working hard so expect lots of updates!! i have several parts already queued. i'll be posting a chapter every tuesday + thursday until the fic is completed!

also just a reminder that there's a playlist if you're interested and i've put the link to the taglist below!

Song Rec: vegas - doja cat

This is Part 4 of Daddy Issues. Find the rest of the series here!

[ masterlist | taglist ]

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

A year later, you find yourself living in a brand new apartment with Trixie, the girl whom you stood next to during the chaotic filming of the 68 Comeback Special. Apparently, her family is extremely well-off and has absolutely no issue sending her money without question. Although you’ve tried to assure Trixie about a thousand times that you don’t want nor need the money she continues to shovel into your pocket, she insists on supporting you. At first, it was easier to give in because you actually really did need the money, since you were unemployed with no prospects and a scant resume. But now, you’re just starting to feel selfish.

Fortunately, with Steve’s help you’ve managed to secure a job working at KNBC, California’s NBC television station. You might still just be a secretarial worker, but a job is a job. Surprisingly, you find yourself with an unprecedented amount of free time compared to what you had when you were constantly picking up night and weekend shifts every other week at the diner. Not to mention that you make a lot more, too. It’s nothing to brag about by any means, but far more than enough to get you back on your feet. Slowly but surely, your debts dwindle little by little every day.

So far, living with Trixie has been pure bliss. She’s incredibly sweet and very neat and tidy. She doesn’t leave her laundry on the floor, always takes the trash out, and is usually cheerful in the morning. Some days, she even meets you in the kitchen with a carafe of steaming hot coffee already brewed. She never brings home creepy guys who hang around past their welcome and she’s nothing but respectful of your space. She works similar hours to you as a designer at a fashion magazine conveniently located only a couple of blocks down the road from KNBC.

You honestly couldn’t have asked for a better situation and, for the first time in a very long time, you feel safe, happy, and healthy. Little do you know what’s to come when a surprise package shows up on your doorstep.

You’re in the bathroom, elbows deep in water and soap as you wash your face first thing in the morning. Trixie, the early morning bird she is, has been awake for several hours already and is in the kitchen making breakfast. With the bathroom door closed, you can hardly hear anything going on down the hall so it takes you a moment to process Trixie’s shout that you’ve received a delivery. Squinting your eyes to protect them from the soap sliding down your face, you turn toward the door and yell back.

“Who’s it from?”

A few seconds of silence pass before Trixie replies.

“Uh…Y/N, why are you getting a package from E…ley?”

You shake your head. You can barely hear her over the sound of the water and the closed door. Your fingers quickly scramble to turn off the faucet and you grasp for a towel to hurriedly dry your face before rushing out of the bathroom. Sticking your head around the corner, you glance at Trixie with furrowed eyebrows.

“What did you say?” you ask.

“The package,” she responds, holding it up, “it’s from Elvis Presley.”

“I…from who?”

“Can you hear me, honey? Elvis. Elvis Presley? Famous musician and actor? We're both huge fans? We were in the audience while he filmed his comeback special on NBC? Ringing any bells here?” Trixie gestures wildly, her eyes big and wide.

You shake your head and approach her, holding out your hands so she can pass the package along to you. As soon as it touches your fingers, you snatch it up and sit down on the couch in the living room. Sure enough, as you look at the address label on the package, there it is. Elvis Presley.

To be perfectly honest, you’ve all but forgotten about him. With everything going on in your life, you’ve been too busy to pay attention to celebrity gossip or keep track of the music charts. You also have to admit that you might have been more inclined to forget him after suffering the embarrassment of turning down his…offer.

Glancing up at Trixie, you see her biting the nail of her thumb anxiously, a big grin breaking through her face. You shake your head again and sigh a deep breath before your fingers start digging into the wrapping of the package. Once you’ve torn through the wrapping paper and flipped open the cardboard box, your fingers catch onto something soft and silky. Shooting a confused expression at Trixie, you pull out the object and stand to let it unfold. Your breath catches in your throat as it drops down into its full form. Trixie shares the expression, her gasp accompanying yours.

“Oh my god…” she says in awe.

You hold it up to your body and wander over to the floor-length mirror hanging in the entryway. As you press the fabric against your figure, your eyebrows raise. It’s almost the same blue color as your horrible dress from Chadney’s Restaurant, the one you’d been wearing when you officially met Elvis for the first time. Although the color is comparable, the quality is nowhere near the same. This dress is made of silk, softer than any fabric you’ve ever felt before, and definitely a major upgrade from the scratchy cotton of your old work uniform. The dress has a sweetheart neckline with a cut out of the side and a leg slit that rides higher than you’d normally be comfortable with. As you run your fingers over the seams, you feel a few hand-cut jewels. They look like diamonds, although your brain is incapable of believing that.

“Hey, there’s a note with it,” Trixie’s voice knocks you out of your disbelief and you turn toward her.

She hands it over to you and, as you unfold it, two long green strips of paper fall out. Trixie bends to pick them up and examines them as you read the handwritten script of the letter out loud, although the handwriting is atrociously difficult to decipher.

“Cinderella,” you pause and gulp as your brain flashes back to the moment when Elvis had first called you that. When he’d invited you into his dressing room after the special. When he’d pulled your panties from his robe pocket…

“Cinderella,” you clear your throat and continue, “I figured I oughta replace that blue dress you ruined on account of me. I hope you like this one better and that you find the rest of the contents of this package to your taste.”

You pause, your eyes wandering over toward the package which, apparently, has more to give. You reach for it, digging underneath the wrapping paper until your fingers curl onto something lacy. You pull it out and heat immediately floods your face and neck. Trixie’s hand flies onto her mouth as you both stare in silence at an expensive-looking lingerie set hanging from your fingertip. You immediately drop it back into the package and shiver.

“What does the rest of the letter say?” Trixie asks, leaning forward to glance at the note over your shoulder.

“Uh…replace that blue dress, blah, blah, blah…contents of this package…Don’t make me wait until midnight. And don’t forget who-”

You stop abruptly as your brain circles around the last few words of the letter.

“What?” Trixie asks, peering more intensely over your shoulder. “What does it say, Foxie? I can barely read his chicken scratch.”

Foxie is the nickname Trixie had started calling you. Until this point, you’ve never understood why. But as your eyes roam over the contents of the package Elvis sent you, you start to understand that maybe you’re more of a fox than you realized.

“Don’t forget who owns you, princess.”

Trixie’s mouth pops open and she stares at you with wide eyes. You collapse further onto the couch and cover your eyes with your palms. Your heart pounds in your chest as you run through everything you just discovered.

“Wait, I’m sorry…did I miss something?” Trixie asks. “What the hell is all of this, Y/N?”

“It’s nothing,” you reply a little too quickly. “It must be some kind of a joke or something. I don’t know.”

“Some joke! Some expensive joke. These fell out of the letter,” she says, handing over the two green strips of paper.

Your eyes widen as you scan the printed text on the paper. Two tickets to one of Elvis’ concerts at the International Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada. You run a hand over your face and toss the tickets back into the cardboard box they came in. With a building rage, you grab onto the other contents of the package and shove them back in, tucking the wrapping paper back over them like a blanket.

“No, no this is insane. I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is. But no,” you mutter to yourself.

“Y/N, honey…I really don’t think this is a joke. I mean, two front row tickets to an Elvis Presley concert in Las Vegas? Do you know how expensive these are? Who would blow that much money just to get a laugh? I can’t even think of anyone else you know and I certainly didn’t pull this stunt.”

“Look, I don’t know, but I can’t believe that…well, he wouldn’t have any reason to send this to me. I mean, I told him no the last time he offered, so he should-”

“What? What do you mean you ‘told him no?’ Y/N what is going on here that I don’t know about? I’m completely lost.”

Shit. You slipped.

“Oh, no. It’s nothing,” you stutter, waving your hands frantically. “It was…nothing.”

“Well, it was obviously something?” Trixie gestures to the package. You sigh and she places a hand on your shoulder. “Foxie, I’m your best friend in the world. You can tell me anything.”

Your gaze drops down to her brightly painted purple nails and you heave a deep breath before lifting your gaze to hers. Her eyebrows are furrowed in concern and you know that she genuinely does care about your well-being.

“You’re technically my only friend in the world, Trix. But yes, I guess something did happen that I never told you about.”

“Well, what is honey? Now, I really have to know,” she gestures to the package again and you chuckle.

“Well, to start off, the 68 special wasn’t the first time I saw Elvis. I saw him in 1956 at Russwood Park, too.”

“Right. I remember. We’ve talked about it plenty of times. What does that concert have to do with this?”

“Well, I maybe…kind of, sort of…did an embarrassing thing.”

“Like…what?” she quirks an eyebrow and you squeeze your eyes shut to counter the embarrassment you feel rising in your chest.

“I slid my underwear across the stage at that concert,” you blurt, wincing at the memory of your own actions. “And apparently I made an impression because he, Elvis I mean, sent his producer to bring me to the dressing room after we filmed the special. It was several hours after, so you were probably long gone by then. I was staying with my cousin, Steve, you remember him. Anyway, so I wound up in Elvis’ dressing room and it was just the two of us and he just…he just pulled my panties out of his pocket! The ones I’d given him, you know, years and years ago. I mean, I never in my wildest dreams would have expected…do you think he washed them? I mean, ew!”

“Calm, Foxie! Calm and focus. Slow words.”

“Right, sorry,” you laugh painfully and gulp before continuing. “Uh, after he pulled my panties out he sort of asked me if I…like, if I wanted to be his…sugar baby?”

Trixie’s eyes close and reopen wider and she leans forward as if she hasn’t heard you correctly. She blinks in shock.

“Well, what did you say? Did you tell him no?”

“Yeah, I said it was wrong. That I’m not the kind of person who sleeps with married men. Apparently, he didn’t take the hint because…” you gesture again to the infamous package.

“Yeah, I’d say not. What did he offer you? That’s how it works, right? You take care of him and he does something for you?”

“He offered to pay my debts and buy me gifts and stuff. The usual things, I imagine?”

“And he hasn’t contacted you since then until now?”

“Not one time.”

A few moments of silence pass. Trixie settles back into the couch, tapping her finger on her leg, obviously deep in thought. Your eyes just lazily drag around the scattered contents of the package as you contemplate what to do.

“Maybe…” Trixie starts, “you should go see what he wants?”

Your head snaps toward her.

“What?”

“I don’t know, maybe…maybe he has a different offer for you. Or maybe you can finagle your way into an even better arrangement.”

You throw your hands up, motioning for her to stop.

“Trixie, what are you talking about? I can’t do this. It’s wrong.”

“Yeah, I know, but you could use the extra cash and, after all, it is Elvis Presley.”

You just stare at her for a moment, your eyes flicking around her face to see whether she’s joking. Based on what you gather from her expression, she’s being completely serious. You scoff and stand up, grabbing harshly onto the box to take it right to the trash can.

“I can’t believe you would even say that, Trix. I expected better from you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Trixie asks, standing and propping her hands on her hips.

“For God’s sake, Trixie! The man is married with a baby. What would I do to all of that if I said yes? I’m not a homewrecker. All he wants to do is use me anyway. He’ll probably drop me in three days for another woman. No thanks, not gonna happen. I’m not doing this.”

“Well, give it all to me, then,” Trixie shouts back, stalking over toward you and grabbing ahold of the package. You pull back firmly, preventing her from snatching it out of your fingers.

“Excuse me? What are you gonna do? You’re gonna go see him?”

“Maybe I will.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but he doesn’t want you. He wants me!” you shout, ripping the package away from her.

“Oh, that’s very nice of you. If you’re not gonna take him up on it, someone should!” she yells back, reaching for the package again.

“If you didn’t want to support me financially any more you could have just said it!”

“Don’t even!” she holds up her pointer finger. “You know very well that’s not what this is about. I have no problem helping you. You’re the one who’s always complaining about how pathetic it is that you have to mooch off me.”

“And not everyone has the luxury to just leave their lives, you know!” you yell. “I have to work, Trixie. To pay my bills, to keep my car, to avoid going to prison. Not everyone’s mommy and daddy are around to bail them out when they make stupid decisions!”

Right after the words escape your lips, your eyebrows unfurl and grief settles quickly in the depths of your stomach. When you notice a few glinting tears gathering in Trixie’s eyes, the reality of what you’ve said and its consequences are all too clear. Trixie huffs and stares at you for a moment before spinning on her heel and stalking down the hallway to her room. You drop the box on the counter and thrust your face into your hands, jumping at the rigid sound of her bedroom door slamming shut.

“Why don’t you just leave me alone?” you whisper to Elvis’ nonexistent frame as you toy with a piece of the wrapping paper.

You’d lied to Trixie, which you now feel increasingly bad about. You had heard from Elvis. Just a few letters here and there for the first couple of months after you rejected him the first time. You threw them all away without opening a single one. After a while, they just stopped coming and you thought you were in the clear. You were obviously wrong.

You glance around the apartment, thinking about how lucky you are to even be living here in the first place. Guilt racks through your body painfully and you sniff back a couple of tears before reaching across the table to grab the two tickets. As your eyes circle around the words, you sigh and then shuffle down the hall toward Trixie’s room. With a deep breath, you knock quietly on the door and lean against it.

“Trixie? I’m so sorry, Trix. I’m just overwhelmed and frustrated. I didn’t mean to call you stupid or…shame you for your upbringing. And I really shouldn’t dare considering how much you’ve done for me,” you say quietly, resting your forehead against the door. “It just feels so…unreal. This whole Elvis situation. Don’t get me wrong, of course I’m interested but it just…feels so wrong. He’s married with a kid and I…I’m scared.”

You wait a few seconds but hear nothing on the other side of the door. You turn with a dejected sigh and retreat to hide in your room. But as soon as you turn your back, the door clicks open. You whirl back around to see Trixie peeking her head out.

“I’m sorry,” you say but she holds up a hand.

“Don’t apologize. I’m the one who should be doing that. I have no right telling you what to do with your life. I certainly shouldn’t be mad at you for not accepting. This situation is very…unusual. I guess I just got jealous at the idea that the Elvis Presley wants you so badly that he went to all this trouble. And I hate to see you struggling. I know the money would reduce a lot of stress so I just think you should…I don’t know, consider it.”

“I know, Trix. I could use the money, of course. But I’m scared and embarrassed. What’ll happen if I eventually get old or uninteresting? If he gets bored of me and drops me for someone else? I barely know the man but he feels dangerous to me. Steve said something about him being unfaithful to his wife and…it’s just all so much.”

Trixie nods, leaning against the doorframe and crossing her arms over her chest. You sigh loudly.

“At the same time, though…” you offer a small smile and pull the two tickets from your back pocket. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to take him up on this? It’d be a shame to waste two front row tickets, especially with how expensive they are nowadays. And it would give me the opportunity to tell him off once and for all. What do you think? Another roomie adventure?”

You wiggle the tickets in the air with a suggestive shrug. Trixie laughs and nudges the door open with her hip. She throws her arms around your shoulders and you lean into her touch, closing your eyes and squeezing tightly. When she releases you, you’re greeted by a massive smile on her beautiful face.

“I guess we should get packing, then,” you say, gesturing at the tickets which have tomorrow’s date printed all over them.

“I’ll call the hotel and make reservations!” Trixie shouts, clapping her hands together.

With that, she disappears into her room to start packing. You trudge back into the kitchen to retrieve the package and then disappear into your own room. A few minutes later, you hear Trixie’s favorite Elvis record playing from her room.

You spend most of the day packing and preparing to leave since you’ll need to depart first thing in the morning to make the concert on time. At least one full hour is spent on the phone with your boss at KNBC as you try to explain why you can’t come in tomorrow. Another hour is wasted when you spend it calling everyone you know at the office to see if they’ll fill in for you. Luckily, the last person on your contact list agrees to take your shift. You thank them endlessly and accidentally promise an autograph from Elvis, although you aren’t sure if you plan on being that close to him.

You pass out as soon as your head hits the pillow that night and, even though you’ve both slept in, you and Trixie are groggy as ever in the morning.

As you lift your suitcase from the bed, your eyes land on the package from Elvis, half-unopened and not packed in your case. You pause in the doorway for a moment, staring at it. Last night, it was all too clear why you shouldn’t bring it. The answer to his proposal was and always would be a firm no. But this morning, as your gaze falls frozen on the beautiful things he’d sent you and the haunting words he’d written, your heart thumps with anticipation. Sighing frustratedly, you click open the suitcase and shove both the dress and the lingerie inside.

You and Trixie leave LA around 11 a.m., piled into her blue Jeep Wagoneer. Two hours into the four hour trip, you switch off and take the wheel so Trixie can get some extra rest. She was awake until two in the morning pairing up the perfect outfits. To your surprise, the drive is over in a flash and, the next thing you know, you’re inching through the Vegas Strip, stuck in horrific traffic.

You check your wristwatch as you get caught by yet another red light. You have roughly four hours to get ready for the show. After parking and checking in at the front desk, you take your bags upstairs to get unpacked. Even with exploring the hotel, grabbing dinner, and getting changed for the concert (which includes the forty minutes you spent debating whether or not you should wear the blue dress Elvis sent you), you find yourselves with time to spare. You decide to head down early and see if you can get seated before the rush.

When you arrive outside of the showroom, you’re shocked to see the area relatively deserted. You check the ticket twice to make sure before approaching the security guard standing in front of the doors.

“Hi,” you say cheerily. “We’re here for the Elvis show and were just wondering if it’d be possible for us to be seated a little early? If not, that’s alright, but we figured we’d check.”

“Well,” the guard starts, his eyes tracking not-so-sneakily up and down yours and Trixie’s figures. “We normally don’t allow people in before the scheduled time, but I might be able to make an exception for two ladies as lovely as yourselves.”

He winks and you press your lips together to keep from laughing. You glance at Trixie out of the corner of your eye and see her holding a finger to her mouth to mask her amusement.

“Oh, that’d be awfully sweet of you…Henry,” Trixie says, flashing him her most charming smile.

Your eyes drop down to see his nametag which reads Henry. You bite your tongue as you watch Henry flash Trixie a smile. He glances around the surrounding casino floor to see if anyone else is watching before pushing open the big black door behind him. He gestures with his hand.

“Please come on in, ladies. Will you need help finding your seats today?”

“Oh, you’re too generous, Henry,” you say as you both glide past him into the showroom. “But I think we’ll be alright. If we get lost, we’ll be sure to find you.”

You throw in a wink for good measure and spin on your heel, dragging Trixie into the room. Only a few steps inside and you’re both laughing so hard that you can barely breathe. Your laughs dry up in a couple of seconds, however, when you start to take in the space. You mutter in awe and point around the room, admiring details like the golden curtains pulled over the stage and the ornate statues adorning each column. You pull out the tickets and use them to direct you both toward your seats in the front row.

“Damn, we’re literally right here,” you muse, glancing straight ahead of you onto the front of the stage.

You’re seated at a round table that’s clad with a very fanciful tablecloth, dishes, and wine glasses. A candle, unlit, rests in the middle of the table and there’s a note propped up against the glass. You tilt your head as you reach out to grab it.

“Oh my god,” you mutter as you read the writing on the outside. Princess.

“Ooh, what’s that?” Trixie asks, plopping into one of the chairs next to you. You open the note as you join her.

“Princess, I’m so glad you made it. When you get here, come see me backstage. I have a present for you,” you read, your eyebrows furrowing.

You glance at Trixie but she just raises her eyebrows and shrugs. With a deep breath, you grab onto your purse, still clutching the note in your fingers.

“Alright, well I guess now’s as good a time as any to break the hard news. I’ll be back, I hope. If anything happens to me back there, you get everything in the apartment,” you say with a goofy smile.

Trixie laughs and shoos you away just in time for the showroom doors to open and release a line of audience members into the area. You hurry toward a door on the left side of the stage which you assume leads to the backstage area, considering the security guard who stands in front of it. You clear your throat before announcing yourself.

“Uh, hi! I’m here to see Elvis. Well, everyone is here to do that, I guess, but I have this note and uh…well, here,” you say nervously and hand over the letter. He examines it as you wait and anxiously wring out your fingers.

“Y/N?”

Your head spins as a vaguely familiar voice sounds from behind you. A smile immediately spreads across your face as you recognize Elvis’ producer, Jerry. You give him a wave and a shrug as heat creeps into your face.

“Hi…” you greet him quietly.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he says, approaching you. He waves off the guard dismissively. “She’s good to go. He’s been expecting her for a long time. Here, I’ll show you back.”

The guard shimmies out of the way so Jerry can open the door. He gestures for you to enter with a smile and you thank him as you step through.

“Changed your mind, huh?” Jerry asks as you follow him through the backstage area.

“Uh, no actually. Not really. I’m just here to tell him to save his postage,” you say, feeling the need to justify yourself although you can’t explain why.

“Can’t blame you. These kinds of situations don’t work for everyone, although this will be a first for him.”

“Do you think he’ll be disappointed?” you ask jokingly.

“Oh I’d bet on it.” Apparently Jerry didn’t take your question as a joke. “Like I said before he’s been waiting for you, specifically, for a long time. I’m sure he’ll be very disappointed, but don’t let that stop you. It is your decision, after all. Good luck.”

Jerry points toward a dressing room door with big black letters which read ELVIS. You clear your throat and thank Jerry. He nods curtly and then spins on his heel to return to the work he probably needs to get done before the show starts. You straighten the hem of the blue dress he’d sent you and clutch firmly onto the strap of your purse, into which you’d also stuffed the lingerie at the last minute. It suddenly occurs to you that perhaps you were supposed to wear the lingerie under the dress…

Oh well, you think to yourself. Too late now.

You take a few deep breaths and smile awkwardly at the cast and crew who pass through the area on their way to get ready for the show. You know it’s ridiculous to think that everyone knows why you’re here but, despite the sheer unlikeliness of it all, you still feel embarrassed and shameful that you actually came. A few times, you debate backing away and returning to your table with Trixie to just enjoy the show. But something stops you every time. Eventually, your desire and curiosity move you forward and your knuckles knock on the door three times.

Ignoring the fight or flight mechanism that triggers in your chest, you wait for the door to open. In a matter of seconds, your wish is granted and he stands before you. He’s wearing an incredibly detailed white jumpsuit with flared pants and a popped collar. It’s unbuttoned all the way down to his waist and you gulp as your eyes immediately fly to the bare skin of his chest. As your gaze flicks back up to his face, you find him smirking down at you, his eyes already hungrily digesting your figure which stands in front of him. His body is elongated and pulled taut as he leans against the doorframe. He still looks good, as healthy and as sexy as ever, although his sideburns and hair are much longer than they had been almost a year ago.

“Princess,” he says in a voice even deeper than you remember. You begin to notice the painful thudding of your heart against your chest as his eyes take you in. “I figured you weren’t comin.”

This is it, the perfect opportunity for you to reject him and explain why you can’t take him up on his offer. But your brain stalls. It’s completely blank as you stare up at him with helpless doe eyes. He examines your figure once more before pushing the door open to create a space underneath his armpit for you to enter. You glance up at him, waiting for further instructions as if you need a translation. He flips his head toward the room.

“Inside.”

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

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#elvis #elvis 2022 #austin butler #milasfics #milaselvisfics #milasthings #milaselviscontent #sugar daddy elvis #daddy issues

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wallaceyouslut · 1 year ago

Text

Summary:

Todd’s been chasing after Wallace. They meet at an afterparty - situations ensue.

Edit: Since the original seems to have been deleted I'll send a link to a saved version if anyone wants, just DM.

POSESSIVE YET TENDER TODD AAAHAHAHJDJDKSKFNDN

It's nice to see fics where Todd takes initiative yet is still so clearly desperate uwu

Wallace giving into him...we love to see it

Fic:

Wallace pushes through the busy crowd, frowning when some guy almost spills his booze onto his shirt. It’s one of his vintage Ralph Lauren sweaters, and it’d piss him off to no end if it got stained.

He feels a hand grab his wrist at some point, but he’s too tipsy to care. He only gets startled when the hand actually starts pulling him towards its direction.

“What the hell?” Wallace frowns, shooting his head up to see who it was. It’s dark, and the only source of light is a stupid disco ball on the ceiling that doesn’t help him at all.

Somebody pulls him to the corner of the room, now trapping his body between the rest of the crowd and the wall. When Wallace looks up, he immediately lets out a groan.

"Is that how you’re gonna greet me, huh?”

Todd frowns above him, a shadow casted across his face as he’s turned his back against the light.

He’s the very thing Wallace has been trying to avoid for months - he’d blocked his email address, phone number, social media accounts, everything. Yet he’s breathing, glaring down at him angrily, holding his wrist tight all while being in front of him right then and there.

“Todd, seriously,” Wallace frowns now, trying to pry his wrist away from Todd’s grip. He doesn’t seem to have any intentions in letting go, like he finally has him there after trying so, so hard.

“Seriously what? Why have you been ignoring me?” Todd doesn’t look away, not even once. He’s staring straight down into Wallace’s eyes.

“…look, I’ve been busy. I was looking for new apartments to move into. Scott’s also thinking about moving out, so.” Wallace holds the back of his neck with his free hand, feeling nervous now.

“That’s some bullshit. You could’ve checked your texts.” He grips his wrist tighter now, tilting his head slightly as his gaze remains firm on Wallace.

“What’s your problem? Don’t you get the idea - I’m not interested in you.” Wallace frowns as he tries to push Todd away. He doesn’t budge.

“Come on, Wallace,” His voice sounds a little wrecked now, even desperate, evident within their proximity. “I know how I made you feel.”

Wallace swallows thickly. He really doesn’t want to do this right now, but the way Todd’s eyebrows knit makes his chest tighten a little. Todd lowers his head a little to Wallace’s ear, his voice low but audible amidst the noise of the crowd—

“I can do it all over again. For you.”

Wallace feels a small shock of electricity travel up his spine. He sighs softly as the air remaining inside him leaves his lungs. He feels Todd’s lips against the shell of his ear now, kissing chastely and biting at the lobe.

Wallace will yell at himself for this in the future, but that’s a problem for his later self. He grabs Todd’s hand and pulls him to the men’s restroom behind them.

Todd is the first one to reach for a stall, unlocking the door while picking Wallace up with his other free arm. Wallace cups his jaw with both of his hands, gasping when his back bumps against the (now closed) bathroom door behind him. He lets out a breathless sigh, moaning softly as Todd squeezes his hips.

Wallace bites his lip nervously as he watches Todd undo the fly of his jeans, pulling his waistband down and hastily reaching for his cock. The girth of it sobers Wallace up, makes his mouth water a little bit.

Todd pumps it a few times in his hand, gazing at Wallace through half lidded eyes as he does. Wallace loops his arms around Todd’s neck and kisses him again - eagerly clinging onto him. He can feel Todd’s hands squeezing his ass, and he moans in anticipation.

Todd is the first to pull away. He turns Wallace around and bends him down, practically yanking his jeans down to his thighs as he aligns the head of his cock with Wallace’s ass.

With no preparation? - He wants to ask, but Todd’s out of it, unfocused from everything else except Wallace. He pushes in slowly, and it burns, but Wallace can’t make up the words for it. He’s gasping and moaning underneath, his hands propped up against the bathroom door as he arches his back to take Todd’s cock better. They both let out an airy moan when Todd is fully inside, with Wallace feeling full and stretched out. Todd pulls out, then slams back in, leaving no room for Wallace to gain composure.

“Tell me whose cock this is,” He says with a particularly hard roll of his hips as Wallace lets out a strained shout.

“G-god,” Wallace places his palms on the surface of the door, the stall rattling in rhythm with Todd’s thrusts. “Yours, yours, f-fuhhhh,”

Wallace dips his head and shouts as his cock twitches - he comes, white stripes dripping down the red bathroom door. He gasps heavily when Todd doesn’t stop.

“Does that feel good? Tell me how it feels.” Todd growls into the shell of Wallace’s ear, as Wallace shakes his head and lets out a loud moan.

“Feels s-so good. So good,” He can barely register the sound of his voice and Todd’s grunts beside his ear as he shouts again, unprepared for the second orgasm building up inside him again.

“Wallace,” Todd kisses the back of his neck, licking up in wide swaths. He whispers into his ear, breathlessly. “I can be so good for you, we could do this every day. Every hour. If you let me.”

Wallace presses his forehead against the stall door, unable to make out proper words nor any sentences. He just moans when Todd keeps hitting that spot, until they both get unwinded and Todd spills himself inside of Wallace.

There’s about a minute of silence, their heavy breathing the only thing that’s audible except the muffled music. Wallace is surprisingly the first one to turn around and latch himself onto Todd, kissing chastely at his lips. He’s tired, fuck this, so he just clings onto whichever part of him he could hold onto.

Wallace wakes up at his apartment the next day, on the bed. He sits up straight on the sheets, eyeing at his phone. He reaches for it after a minute of consideration, and unblocks Todd Ingram from his contacts.

‘Maybe I should text him.’ He thinks.

#fic #toddallace #todd x wallace

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suzukiblu · 1 year ago

Note

sorry if this is weird (and i realize now that ive said that a lot…) but ive been sending anons in for a while and ive been thinking of making an ao3 to post fics that are kind of inspired by yours. unfortunately, i’m absolutely terrible at making usernames. do you have any suggestions for coming up with usernames? or just. suggestions for usernames. either. or neither. idk

Friend, you have not even scratched the surface of weird here, haha. Also fyi I would love to see any of those fics so please link me if you do in fact post them. ❤️

As for usernames, I'm gonna be honest, I inherited my main and best-known username by taking over my favorite cousin's old LiveJournal back in, like, literal high school and have just decided to stick with Brand Recognition(tm) in the twenty years or so since, hahaha. It is a horse's name. Literally, literally it belonged to a horse. I very rarely come up with new usernames, especially these days, but when I do I kinda tend to just pick random things I think sound good at the time? Like, whatever quote or lyric or interesting word pops to mind, I just take that and do some kind of combination/complementing thing with it.

Idk if they'll help/inspire you, but a few of the old usernames I've used over the years:

sunfreak

witch_knuckle / warlock_knuckle

scarlet_yvette

thescuttlebugg

scarlet_yvette was a reference to a semi-obscure X-Men/Generation X character who was one of my diehard faves as a teenager, but the rest I just came up with 'cause I liked how they sounded, pretty much. Actually I also liked how scarlet_yvette sounded, haha, I thought it flowed nicely. And thescuttlebugg was for a side account I mostly wrote Miraculous Ladybug fic on, so I figured a bug-related name that wasn't EXCLUSIVELY fandom-oriented would be good for that.

Honestly my best advice for making a username is don't go with anything too generic so you have a better chance of getting it on multiple sites, and don't go with anything too obviously tied down to a specific fandom, because if/when you migrate or wanna dabble in other ones it can be annoying, especially if you end up having a bad experience in the original fandom and getting soured on it. Basically names that aren't too heavily linked to someone else's work are my personal preference, so you can take or leave them as you please, but that's also just what works for me.

Hope any of that helped, hah. Feel free to message again if you still need a hand!

#rintalk #anonymous

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gvtted-ratz · 4 months ago

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BEFORE YOU READ:

- Read all tags/ratings if there are any. They are important and give you all you need to decide if you want to actually read. If you do not like the tags/rating, please do not read.

- We ask that anyone who is FEM aligning/identifying to not read our MLM fics. You can still send requests, however, we do not do FEM readers.

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Want to request? Find the rules: here!

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THOMAS

Tom/Thomas x Hacker!GN!Reader

Last Edited: 11/07/2024

TW: mocking, drugging, imprisonment, kidnapping, illegal auctioning, human trafficking

Requested: No.

Word Count: 3,721

AO3 LINK -> HERE

Notes from gvtted-ratz (writer/creator): Tom, our beloved. There isn’t much, if any, info on him, so we did our best. If you don’t enjoy the headcanons we’ve established here, we don’t mind you clicking off the fic. We do suggest looking up Nazca and its culture. It was pretty interesting to read about.

Notes from @rppik (editor/co-writer): a quote from when I was editing: “Rat, you self-indulgent meta-ass whore, PLEASE”

“I assume this is everything?” You can hear Blue and Red getting shifty at your words. They, as well as you, have been waiting for the introduction to cease to start your biddings.

“That it is, yes! Would my esteemed customers like to let this lowly auctioneer know what goods you wish to purchase?”

Yes, that is the question, isn’t it? Who will you be bidding on to take with you?

》YOU HAVE SELECTED THOMAS 《

“Blue window? Which do you wish to take with you? I’ll make sure to have it all written down!” The Auctioneer asks, motioning towards a metal door. Behind it, you’re sure there’s someone there to take notes of what items are purchased, they will be shipped to, as well as who wasn’t bought.

“Oh! I’d love to have that Thomas boy! I’ll do 140 for him! And perhaps Mason for 250?” Blue’s window lights up. She sounds excited to go first with her purchases. Then again, she always complained when she didn’t get to go before everyone else; better she goes now than later.

“Very well. How about the red window? Whom will you be taking?” The Auctioneer's facial expression is unable to be seen behind her bandage-like mask, though the way she talks with such joy only highlights how well she is at her job.

“200 on Machete, 340 each for the Goffard boys,” Red says, window lighting up.

“What the fuck! Fuck you!” Derek says, Matt looking just as livid as his brother. Machete doesn’t look to be phased at being chosen by Red; his face stays calm despite this very unlucky situation he’s found himself in.

Those that haven’t been chosen appear to be less tense, relieved to not be bought. On the other hand, of Blue’s selected prizes, Mason looks ready to kill; his eyes looking this way and that, body tensed like a large predator ready to pounce. Tom's widened eyes, however, are shiny with fearful, unshed tears.

It appears Blue wants to have someone she can “put in their place” while also having somewhat of an obedient mutt.

“Green window? Would you kindly tell this lowly Auctioneer your choice?”

“150 for Tom,” your warbled voice makes said man flinch at your words. You can see his clasped hands shaking.

“What! But, Green! I want him,” Blue whines, making a distorted sigh spill from your lips. A few of the products’ eyes have that “oh God, now what” look to them. “200!”

“Nearing your budget. 300,” you retort, no hesitation in your tone. You hear a few huffs from her window, the blue glow only highlighting how spoiled she acts despite her age.

“Fine! I’ll take that dirty cop for 150 then!” You can mentally hear the ‘humph!’ after her words, leading to you to sigh once more. Blue is probably the Bidder you like the least, due to her spoiled tone paired with the inability to actually fight for items she deems worthy of her money. You already know she can’t afford the things she wants, compared to you or Red, that is. How she acts only adds fuel to that raging fire.

“‘Dirty cop!? Who the fuck do you think you are, you stupid bitch!” Said dirty cop is now making a fuss, making you smash your hand into your window to silence him. The rattling directs his gaze to your area while others try to look anywhere but.

“Auctioneer, the bidding is done. I will send you the money as agreed upon, including the extra,” you declare, the modulator only making your voice sound emotionless.

“Oh, yes! Of course! Thank you for joining us here today! As ordered, those who were not purchased will be dropped off in or near their respective towns!” A high-pitched whine rings out as a clear mist fills the room, falling from the spouts attached to its ceiling.

The Auctioneer stands away from the shackled group, seemingly watching on as they yell at everyone around them; cornered animals always tend to lash out when there’s no escape. While they proceed to collapse in heaps on the metal ground below, you, The Auctioneer, and your fellow buyers remain standing; you’re not sure if The Auctioneer has a resistance or a built-in filter to keep out the gas used to put the products to sleep. You do know that the buyers’ rooms have a separate system from the main room, holding its own spouts for the gas in case there happens to be a violent mishap.

Just as quickly as the gas started, it clears just as fast; the spouts no longer whine from releasing the unknown chemicals in the air. Dressed similarly to The Auctioneer, employees of hers enter through the only metal door leading into the room. They grab both the purchased and the unsold, hauling them out for shipment; those that have not been chosen will be carted off as The Auctioneer had stated previously, able to be bought again at a later date. Each of the merchandise will be connected to a drip, keeping them under as they’re delivered to their respective drop-off locations.

You feel a small amount of glee at seeing your chosen target being placed in a wheelchair, IV hooked into the meat of his espresso-brown arm. While he doesn’t know it, he’ll be awaiting your arrival as is per policy; there must be a positive identification of the commodity before the Auction House's job is labeled as complete, with this being a precaution in the case of the delivery being in the wrong area.

“All has been settled, yes?” The Auctioneer’s polite speech forces you to stop staring after your new companion. “Would you kindly wire your payments at this time?” Her customer-service tone hasn’t dialed down nor increased during the entirety of the show’s presentation; it simply remains as prim as possible without grating on your nerves.

“The amount should arrive shortly. Exactly as agreed upon.” You present your burner, clicking the keys to gain access to an offshore account you’ve set up prior to this visit. If one were to try tracking it, somehow getting past your secured firewalls and the encryptions you spent days installing, the trail would only lead to some sap who has a very disturbing interest in illegal images containing unsavoury depictions of people’s mutilated bodies. No skin off your back– literally or figuratively, in this case.

Your distorted-sounding words hold true, as some device beyond the metal door The Auctioneer is standing beside lets out a ding . Hearing it, she glances over at it before nodding, deeming your actions acceptable.

“Thank you, Green. I have hope from the bottom of my heart that your lovely purchase with bear the ripest of fruit for your taking!” You only give her a nod from the glass, knowing she cannot see into it unless you were to talk, forcing the light to shine on your form. You don’t bother to stay any longer, deciding to leave the little boxed room. Likewise, you’d rather not listen to any concerns nor issues the other buyers may have; such instances usually end up in heated arguments or death of said buyer, and you're not particularly interested either way.

With the door closing behind you, another figure dressed like one of the many previously seen employees steps out in front to guide you. There are no words exchanged, the only sounds you hear being that of your own footsteps, paired with your guide’s own muffled breathing through the gauzy wrappings around their head.

Nearing the end of the hallways, the guide opens the dark-wooden door before you, stepping aside to allow you to walk through. Your pace stays consistent, neither slowing nor speeding up. Brick steps turn into a worn gravel path under your shoes as you approach your vehicle. The keys are pressed into your awaiting hand by another member of staff, dressed like the others before them. The rental is easy to gain access to, the engine starting with ease now that you’ve put the key in the ignition. As you drive off, you don’t look back, looking forward to approaching your place of work. You’re sure that by the time you arrive, your chosen prize will be there waiting for you, unknowingly in his sleeping state, of course.

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

The black van parked in front of the dilapidated garage you call your workplace almost makes you chuckle. It’s hardly inconspicuous though the van is needed to transport goods like the one you’ve purchased; it only makes the image of a kidnapping, or even a body dumping event, brighter in your mind’s eye. Maybe if it was part of some sort of amateur fanfiction made by a sleep-deprived author, you’d have thought more about the vehicle’s design or the fact that you’re at a very odd location after visiting a human trafficking auction to purchase someone. As it were, you had better things to preoccupy your mind with.

You park the rental close to the van, exiting it to approach the back of the dark car. The back doors swing open, an employee of the auction house opening them from the inside. They gesture at the incapacitated man, allowing your hidden eyes to glance over his form.

The IV is still inserted in his median antebrachial vein, or the superficial vein of the forearm; it’s one of the most common places one inserts an IV. He’s been strapped down on a gurney, keeping him in place during the entire ride here; if he were to wake up during transportation, he wouldn’t have been able to escape with all the leather straps keeping him held down. The man hasn’t been changed out of the white tank top or blue shorts, glasses still on his face.

With a quick nod at the worker to signal your approval, they start the process of getting him prepped for you. They remove all the bonds, drip taken out afterwards, and have one of the bulkier employees carry him over their shoulder like a sack of grains.

You step to the side, allowing them to exit their van, just to lead them into the dilapidated garage. Rubbish, dust piles, as well as weeds decorate the ground before you. While there is a house attached to this abandoned hole, you don’t use it. The house has more damage to it than the garage itself, all thanks to some squatters; there may have been a few drunk, teenage party animals who pitched in too, though that remains unproven. There’s no use in trying to clean up the rest of the place, the garage being the most stable despite its looks; there’s still electricity running through the place, leading to your computer set-up, including a portable heater for when the nights get a little too chilling.

You motion towards a spot in the corner of the room with a dog bed on the floor to have some cushion against the concrete ground. A few blankets are thrown haphazardly near it, the portable heater pointing towards the corner. Along the wall, there are some old pipes, carrying water to the shower a few feet away.

To you, the place looks more like a basement than some abandoned garage, and you can’t help but think you got lucky when nabbing this place. With it purchased under one of your many aliases, the trespassing has been cut down greatly; a few shots from a hidden gun does wonders on chasing them away too.

The business-casual dressed worker sets your merchandise on the dog bed as you gesture towards said spot, being careful as to not cause any damages. Those who aren’t careful with purchased goods tend to disappear, as is stated in The Auctioneer’s policy; only the best is expected, after all.

With your new companion disposed of in his respective spot, you give the worker a dismissive wave. You don’t have to watch them leave, hearing their footsteps retreat. You approach your desk, pulling open the bottom drawer to find your desired items. Shoving aside a few snacks, you pull out a pair of handcuffs, and a chain hook connected to a heavy-duty chain; the chain gives two feet of length if used correctly. With your items acquired, you kick the drawer closed.

You approach the unconscious man, knowing he won’t be that way for long. You loop the chain around the pipe, using the hook to lock it in place. With the chain secured, you put one of the chain loops in one of the handcuffs, tightening the cuff until you can’t click the metal any farther. With everything now set up, you lock the cuff around your prize’s wrist; it isn’t tight enough to cut into the meat of his wrist, but it will cause bruising if he yanks on it.

Now that your possession is secured, you throw one of the discarded blankets over him in some semblance of care for the man. A ping from your computer notifies you of a possible correspondence. Leaving the man to continue with his rest, you instead place your focus on work. The office chair is pulled out, creaking with your weight as you plop down in it. A click of your mouse causes the multitude of monitors to light up. Your helmet provides cover from the bright lights, the tinted lens serving its purpose well.

The clacking of your keycaps fills the rotting room, replying to messages from clients about any delays or issues they may be concerned about. Other responses are to those like you, sending out warnings on which clients to avoid and what people to not try messing with when it comes to their valuable privacy. A familiar last name comes up in those encryptions, leading to you sending one to those you’ve worked with: Goffard. Auction. Bought. Both. Location Unknown . You knew the moment you heard that last name, it wouldn’t be long before there would be reports in the hidden parts of the web about it.

Father. Killings. Watch out. Another code says, the word of caution making a warbled hum leave you.

Other Buyers. Not User. Safe. That’s your last response, seemingly making the others let up. Perhaps they thought you had bought the men, but with your short messages, their worries are put at ease. You’re sure these correspondences will be sent to the men’s father, only leading him down another path, as two of his heirs are missing. That is none of your concern, however, as people like you are highly sought after. You wouldn’t be surprised if he asks for aid from one of you; he may or may not care for his sons, but he certainly will care for his business and image.

A gasp not far from you alerts you to your captive. You turn to look towards your right, hands not leaving the keyboard. Tom has huddled up close to the pipes, staring at you with wide brown eyes; his pupils seem contracted, merely pinpricks with how he shakes in terror. To see such small pupils almost makes you proud of your apparent ability to intimidate without even trying, though you usually see dilated ones for those in fear. Maybe it truly does just vary from person to person.

“Rise and shine, Sweetheart,” you adopt a mocking tone despite the modulator forcing it to sound monotone.

“How long was I..?” He asks, though it’s more hesitant than anything. You find it cute that he thinks there’ll be some sort of repercussions for possessing curiosity.

“A few hours, give or take. Nearly the entire day, maybe. Then again, it’s hard to tell considering I haven’t kept track of the time,” your insincere chagrin is coated in the surgery sweetness of falsehood; if it had been an actual treat, it would have rotted your teeth out.

“What do you want from me?” Tom sounds a little more confident with this question; it’s not by much, if you’re being honest.

“Companionship, a pet, someone to complain to, and whatever else I want you to be,” you’re blunt with the answer, no use sugar-coating why you purchased him. “Believe it or not, Tom , it tends to get very quiet here. Unless I’m dealing with a very crass client. Then there’s screaming from them and shit-talking from me.” You put emphasis on his name, showing that you do, in fact, know it. He likely doesn’t even know the half of how much you know about him; the summary The Auctioneer gave you couldn’t cover the array of other things you’ve found out about him.

With some digging, you knew his parents came all the way from the city of Nazca, stationed on the southern coast of Peru, leaving before he was conceived. Following their trail further, you found that his parents now reside in Eatonia, Saskatchewan of Canada. Looking a bit more into Tom himself, you saw that he was born and raised there, only moving to a more university based town after his high school graduation. You did have someone take a few pictures of his dorm in your place; at first, you were unsure if Thomas practiced anything relating to Nazca culture, but the few hand-made pottery and ceramic items placed around show he still has a connection. You also spied a few small plants in his dorm, grown by his own hands, if the dates on the hand-made plant pots said anything about that; there were even care instructions next to each one.

From your own research into Nazca culture, you knew there was an emphasis placed on agriculture as well as an array of crafts like pottery, ceramics, and textiles. Even as a full-time college student pursuing media development centered around sound design, he still has time to stay connected to those before him.

“You won’t be letting me go, will you?” Tom sounds devastated at this revelation, his words rousing you from your silent recollection of your findings on him. At least he caught on quick enough without you having to spell it out for him.

“I wouldn’t buy you just to throw you out. What a waste of money,” your scoff can be heard through the helmet. He looks to be cowed at the sound, making that small bit of pride nestle close to your heart. You look back over at him, watching his shaking form. A loud sigh spills from your lips, catching his attention. “Behave and your little spot will be upgraded. I’ll even let you continue your college courses. Online, of course, and monitored carefully. I don’t need you running off the moment you think you taste freedom.”

Your words seem to be enough to comfort Tom, his eyes shining at the idea of having some semblance of normalcy despite the circumstances, seeming to recognize that this is a far better fate than he might have received otherwise as an unwilling captive.

“I’ll- I can behave! I promise I will!” His eager words make you nod.

“I’ll hold you to those words, Thomas. Remember, I have eyes and ears everywhere . So long as you behave, you’ll get whatever you want.” His nod seals the deal, leading you to go back towards your work. If everything works out, he’ll be more than some glorified pet in this run-down shit-hole.

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

“How was your day out?” Tom sits on your couch, laptop in hand, with notebooks spread across your coffee-table.

“You know how I always complain about my clients, yeah?” You flop down next to him, spreading out on the couch. Ever since you bought him from that auction, he’s kept his word; no running, no sending SOS messages through his email to family or college, or screaming for help when you do take him out of your flat. In fact, you never even had to hurt or manhandle him in any way to keep him from fleeing. Due to this, you’ve kept your word. Instead of that shit-hole of a garage, he’s been moved to your own apartment. From some pet to a possible friend, he’s been living with you for nearly a year now. You buy him whatever he wants, giving him anything he asks for. All he has to do, in return, is stay.

“You did mention this specific one two days ago. Is she complaining again?” He asks, writing some notes down. Your scoff makes him glance at you for a second before continuing with his work.

“More like trying to get me to redo the entire 143-page document I created after saying they wanted every little piece of info I could gather on her target. She says it’s too much, but won’t pay me to cut down and summarize the information.” You adjust yourself so you’re leaning against his side, watching him work. Tom doesn’t even react to your touch as you keep talking. “Like, what do you mean you want me to do more work without being paid for it? That’s not happening. You can find someone else to redo my work if you’re that upset with it.”

“As you said, she can find someone else if she won’t pay you. You did what she asked, so that's on her for giving you the wrong instructions.” There’s a pause as he stops his note-taking. You watch him collect himself as he tries to find the words to express what he wants. “Can I… Go out later today?”

“Take your phone with you,” it’s more of a demand than anything, and Tom knows it. You can’t risk losing him if he does leave.

“Of course! I… I wouldn’t leave it behind. You told me you have eyes everywhere…” There’s acceptance in his words, knowing that you’d find him no matter what.

“Good. Then you can go out. Make sure to be careful. Worse comes to worst, you’re hurt, and I have to get my hands dirty to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Your hands twitch at the thought of having to take another life to ensure Tom is off limits. You’ve already made it clear within your informant group through a series of warnings and threats.

“And if I’m dead?” It’s asked casually, almost like he expects to die on one of his trips.

“The only way that happens is if I allow it.”

》START OVER?《

#x reader #x gender neutral reader #tpof x gender neutral reader #tpof x reader #tpof tom x reader #the price of flesh x reader #the price of flesh x gender neutral reader #my fics #gvtted ratz fics #mdni blog

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sxxlol · 7 months ago

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the current ﹒⪩⪨﹒ 4/28

˗ˏˋayla's writing corner ´ˎ˗

sxxlol on ao3! go check out my cynonari fic, linked below.

working on: "and any way you choose me, you'll break instead" (cynonari longfic)

status updates: hihi! currently on chapter 5 of 'you'll break instead!' still in the drafting stage, i am on the first draft as of now. getting kind of distracted from chapter 5, writing another, future chapter of the fic right now. will get back on track soon!

chapter hints: the plot thickens… the journey approaches.

chapter excerpt: no worthy ones yet!

announcements: BETA READER POSITIONS OPEN!!! ARABIC TRANSLATOR POSITION OPEN!!! please please reblog so i can reach more valuable candidates!!!!!

: ̗̀➛ i am opening up two beta reader volunteer (unpaid) slots! this is for a cynonari fanfiction, from cyno's pov in third person omniscent. it is a suuuper slow burn from strangers to lovers! scenes range from action/fighting to soft and intimate moments. the story is heavily lore based and i quite literally make shit up as i go... although i do have a general outline i would provide to interested candidates. now here are some requirements: > general knowledge of genshin impact lore, though willing to set it aside in some aspects as i have planned all of cyno's lore previous to the 4.6 update, when his second story quest comes out. > general knowledge of ancient egypt, as my story has very heavy egyptian themes and i am often researching niche details to make it accurate. do not worry about understanding everything, but a general idea of how ancient egypt worked is definitely required. > wide ranging vocabulary- i often use archaic words in my writing to convey a sort of ancient aspect to the story. i promise im not trying to sound like some elitist i just enjoy writing things like this. i take inspiration from madeline miller's writing because of how beautifully she portrays the ancient world, and this is something i hope to achieve as well. it would also be helpful if you could suggest synonymous words in your reviews! > insensitive to possibly triggering topics, which include the following- graphic depictions of violence, blood, death, physical abuse, verbal abuse, and subtle racist remarks (disclaimer: I AM NOT making racist remarks about any of the characters. I am writing about racism in the setting, because there is clearly animosity towards desert-born in the sumeru storyline. i want to explore every possibility, every topic- not because i enjoy writing about racism, but because issues like racism are prevalent even where they are not most obvious, and i want to expose that. i want to introduce moral conflict and image issues with the characters, because it makes it more realistic and relatable, especially for underrepresented groups). > this might be obvious, but a sincere enjoyment in the characters, fandom, and themes is definitely a requirement. if you lack enthusiasm in some of the topics, please do not send in an application. more info and any questions you have will be discussed after you send in a short application in discord dms (my user is sxxlol). just tell me a bit about yourself, including information like your pronouns, name, etc, so that i can properly speak with you! after that just include a brief description of what you like to write about, words to describe your writing style (optional), and your past works or current wips. please also provide excerpts or links to favorite works that YOU have written, which can include anything from a poem to a fanfiction. any other info pertaining to writing you have done or things you'd like to share, feel free to include it in your message! thank you so much, and that is all!

: ̗̀➛ i am opening one volunteer (unpaid) position for an arabic translator position! description: this position is super low demand! it is for a cynonari fanfiction i am writing, same as described above, and linked above. you do not necessarily have to have any knowledge about the fanfic, fandom, topics, etc. I just need an occasional title or phrase translation, which will be not too often. if it is possible to include the romanized- or in english lettering- version along with the arabic lettering that would be great. please though, only fluent speakers in both english and arabic apply for this position! i need to be able to communicate with you accurately. please message applications to me on discord dms (my user is sxxlol). thank you!

goodbye! ﹒⪩⪨﹒

#genshin impact #cynonari #cyno #tighnari #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #creative writing #beta reader #writers on tumblr #ao3 writer #female writers #i am tagging anything at this point because i am majorly desperate #sumeru

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the-writer-nerd-ro · 1 year ago

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Back on my bullshit (Writing Sara Pena and Hunter Richardson fics)

I actually based part of this on my own relationship, I'll say which part in the tags if anyone is interested lol.

This fic is chock full of headcanons and most of them are my own but one of them is a widely overlooked detail from Hunter's generated bio because everyone was too focused on the fact that she was a vandal

You can find my other fics by clicking on most of the tags below I am too tired to link them

When I look at the stars I feel like myself

It was ten o'clock at night and Hunter Richardson did not want to be at work. But people die at all hours of the day and some of those people have wealthy families who insist on having their funerals planned pronto.

In between a dull discussion on coffins and floral arrangements, Hunter was texting her girlfriend.

Sara Pena had gone out for a late-night walk, so Hunter was swinging wildly between being jealous that she couldn't also be there instead of in a business meeting and being worried about Sara's safety. Of course, Sara was more than capable of taking care of herself, but Hunter was still always worried.

SP: The sky is sooo pretty tonight. Wish you were here :-(

H: Me too

H: Send a pic

"Excuse me, are my father's burial wishes boring to you?"

"No ma'am, sorry, just dealing with a personal emergency." That wasn't technically a lie, missing Sara Pena always felt like an emergency.

"Fine. Let's get back to the matter at hand."

They proceeded to talk about different types of coffin wood for the next 30 minutes. The only reprieve Hunter had was when she glanced at her phone and saw a pitch-black image.

SP: That's the best I could do sorry bb (^_^;)

Hunter almost snorted, but since she was about to seal the deal and get to go home she managed to stay silent.

Finally, she dragged her corpse onto the bus. When it wasn't dark out she usually walked home, but she did not have Sara's confidence about walking alone at night. When she got the chance, she took one more look at the blacked-out photo.

"Hm…."

She downloaded the photo, clicked edit, and fiddled with the brightness until small white pinpoints of light appeared. Then she saved it and attached it to a text back to Sara.

H: Fixed it

SP: Oh, yay! Are you gonna be home soon?

H: Yeah I'm on the bus

SP: I'll stay up, cya soon (^3^)/～♡

Hunter stared fondly down at her phone, ignoring the real sky outside the bus window, preferring Sara's shabby attempt at photography. She made the terrible photo her lock screen -Sara was already her home screen- and put her phone away since the bus was pulling up to her stop.

Sara was eagerly waiting for her when she got inside.

"Have you eaten yet? I made popcorn."

"Sounds perfect," Hunter said, exhausted after a long day.

"Sorry I couldn't have taken a better photo for you, I really wanted to. It was just so beautiful tonight."

"I didn't know you liked stars that much," Hunter remarked before taking a handful of popcorn. It was a little burnt, but Hunter didn't care.

"Yeah, stars make me think about life and my place in the universe. Sometimes they make me feel small but in the grand scheme of things I'm lucky to be a speck in a galaxy so large and majestic."

"That's how I feel when you spoon me," Hunter said, a rather lame response to the profound statement Sara Pena had said, but apparently the correct response.

"Well, then, I am lucky to be your starlight."

"And I am lucky to be your speck."

Hunter spent the whole next day thinking about that conversation, especially whenever she had to open her phone and she saw the photo she'd edited for Sara.

"We can definitely do better than that," Hunter finally decided, a plan cementing itself in her brain.

She had to wait a little while for her plan to fall into place since she spent most evenings either at work or with Sara. By the time a window of opportunity opened, Sara had probably forgotten their star chat entirely, but Hunter didn't forget things very easily.

Opportunity struck when Sara was hired to work a party. Her business, SaraPenaPartyForHire, catered to awkward party hosts who were desperate for overly-confident extroverts who would liven up their party. Sara fit the bill perfectly. Hunter, who spent most of her days talking to corpses and mourners, did not fit the bill at all.

Still, Sara always invited her, and sometimes Hunter obliged. But that day she had a perfect reason to say no.

"I'm working late," Hunter lied.

"Again?" Sara practically pouted.

"Sorry."

"It's fine, you'll just have to come to the next one."

"I will," that part was not a lie.

Once Sara was satisfied, Hunter got to work. She had to call in a favor or two to set her plan in motion, but the main part was actually extraordinarily easy.

She went up to the roof of the funeral home and waited for the sun to set.

Once it had, she pulled out her professional camera and began to photograph the sky.

Photography was still only a hobby for Hunter, but she'd taken every class she could on the subject and had hung onto her camera like it was solid gold. She'd met some people during those classes, and one of her colleagues was going to help her edit and print those photos so that she could make a framed collage.

This plan of hers only worked, of course, if she could get good photos of the night sky. If she could only get photos as good as the one Sara initially took then it would be a waste of time and money.

Fortunately, the night was clear and her hands were steady, so the photos turned out pretty good. Maybe she still needed a few more classes, but the photos were at least good enough to hang up in their apartment, and that was enough.

Hunter barely got home before Sara did, quickly hiding her camera when she heard the door open.

"How was the party?"

"It would've been better with you. How was the cemetery?"

"It would've been better with you."

Sara beamed.

"Did you eat at the party? I was going to make some ramen."

"Mmm, ramen."

While Hunter cooked, Sara chatted about what went down at the party, the music that was played, the people she danced with, and the outfits she planned to copy in the future.

And as Sara talked, Hunter imagined how excited she would be to receive her present.

The next few days, whenever Hunter had a spare moment she spent it assembling. The touched-up photos were beautiful. She selected four of the photos to frame, and as a finishing touch took a white paint pen to the black picture frame, writing the phrase "Lucky to be your starlight" on the top and "Lucky to be your speck" on the bottom.

Then, she just had to arrange the perfect time to present it.

H: Are you working tonight?

SP: Nope! Are you?

H: No, do you want to do date night?"

SP: Yeah! Where do you want to go?

H: Maybe we could get takeout and stay home?

SP: Oooh cozy, I love it. I'll pick something up after work.

Sara worked a series of part-time jobs when SaraPenaPartyForHire wasn't blowing up. This latest job was pretty close to a pizza place they really liked. So, with the date set and dinner squared away, Hunter just had to wait.

When Sara got home with their pizza and cheesy bread, she was surprised to find Hunter in the living room holding a beautifully wrapped gift.

"H? What is this?"

"I made you something," Hunter said, trading Sara for the pizza.

Immediately Sara tore into the gift, her eyes wide and sparkling like the stars she loved so much.

Sara gasped. "Oh, Hunter, these are beautiful, did you take these?

"I did. I wanted you to have a nice picture of the stars since you love them so much."

"I do love them," Sara agreed, reading what Hunter had written for her. "But I will never love all the galaxies in the universe as much as I love you."

Hunter set down the pizza, and Sara set down the stars, and soon they were holding each other. And when they were tangled up, so close that two forms became one, they were so much more than just specks in an uncaring universe. When they were together, they were the universe in all its glory.

#drawfee fanfiction #sara pena #hunter richardson #sara x hunter #hunter x sara #the part I stole from my relationship was the photo thing. my SO and I were on the phone and they had to walk their dogs #so i asked for a picture of the sky and then had to edit it to see any of the stars #i thought that was very sara and hunter of us lol #also petition for their ship name to be sphere (sphr)

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 10 months ago

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I am really needing Advice and I don't have many people in my life that can help.

Here in the fandom I am wanting to reach out and try and make friends with of the members but I ......just don't know how.

I don't want to freak anyone out I just want some friends from here people to chat with and get to know.

I really enjoy my interactions with some of the members I just very socially awkward.

Hey there, anon! First off, I want to assure you you’re definitely not alone in this fandom and thank you for judging me an appropriate person to help. I’m definitely very socially awkward as well (even if it doesn’t show much since I’ve gotten very comfortable around here), so I’ve been there. I’ll share what I’d do in your situation (basically, what I’ve been doing since the fandom began sgksbsjsbs), I hope some of it can be of help to you <3

How to make friends in the fandom:

1- Discord

I, personally, do not really use discord chats. But I did back at the beginning, and they’re an amazing way to find people in the fandom to chat with! Essentially the etiquete of discord (as far as I know) is that you’re welcome to join in on conversations that are already happening, so you don’t need to stress about intruding. I’m pretty sure the biggest Hilda discord is Hilda Guild-a, but the tumblr community also has the Hilda Fandom Network. I (and any other member) can send you a link to the latter if you’re interested and don’t mind shooting one of us a DM! There’s also a sketchbook discord (and I’m assuming you’d be interested in talking about sketchbook since you’re. You know. *gestures vaguely around my blog* here), but I’ve been trying to find the link for jetcat for weeks and still haven’t managed to 🫠 wish you a better luck than mine, anon

2- Tags!

If you’re a person who makes content for the fandom — and I don’t just mean fics or art; shitposts and meta count too — pay attention to the people who not only reblog your stuff, but leave tags adding their thoughts/agreeing with you/screaming as well. They will probably be more open for dialogue since they not only already know you, but also like what you do and how you think!

Likewise, interact with the people you want to get closer to! You have probably already gotten a feel of some bloggers in the fandom, so make sure to reblog the posts you like from the people who sound kind and interesting to you, and let them know what you think!! This way they, too, will know you’re open for dialogue

(Also in this fandom it’s very common that we check the tags on our posts and answer them if there’s anything to be answered; so it’s already an unobtrusive way to get a blogger’s attention!)

3- Asks :O

See, you’re off to a good start! xD

Probably the main reason why I refuse to move on from tumblr, tbh. Asks are just so useful when you’ve already had some interactions with a blogger via their posts and want to talk more. You can always ask about safe topics; if it’s an artist or fic writer, I assure you they’ll be delighted to talk about their work. Also sending jokes or thoughts about characters/ships the person likes, or just about the series, is also imo a very nice thing to do :)

4- DMs (*sinister music playing*)

Okay, this is the scary part that you probably want to be careful with (I know I always want to, at least)

Once you’ve been interacting with people for some time in the ways I already mentioned, you might try sending them direct messages (this is especially acceptable if you’re mutuals btw, though that’s just unspoken etiquete and not a Rule of any kind). Depending on how long you’ve been in each other’s orbit, you might send them a fandom thought (that could admittedly have been an ask, but sending it in a DM will make it even clearer you’re interested in chatting), a post that reminded you of them and you think they might like, or even something a little more personal. I truly think this step will rely a lot on you sensing what is the most appropriate course of action

From then on I’d say it’s relatively easy (even for socially awkward people such as you and I) to sense whether the person you’ve approached is also interested in having a back and forth or if they’re just being polite. But either way, if you ever want to ask them (or even begin the chat by asking) if it’s they’re okay with getting DMs and/or apologizing if you’re being in any way intrusive, I think that’s a pretty chill thing to do. I can’t really see anyone in this fandom telling you “no”, but it’s still polite and would put your heart at ease evekvdjdbsjdb

Honestly, this is a cookie cutter-ification of a process that is generally organic, but as a general rule it’s what works for me. You might want to keep in mind that up until last year I was only in DM terms with *counting on fingers* uh. One (1) (☝️) person in the fandom, so I might not be The best person for you to copy xD though that might also be just because I wasn’t necessarily looking to make friends over here. It sort of just happened haha

Honestly, the bottom line is just that this fandom is filled with lovely people and I think wanting to make friends is all but a guaranty that you will. Something that I’ve learned from experience that helped me a lot to keep in mind is that if you’re afraid of being intrusive or impolite, you most likely won’t be. Just from the way you worded the ask, you sound pretty sweet!

I do hope you find what you’re looking for, and that you have a lovely time at the Hilda tumblr! Have a lovely day, dear 💜

#in my experience once you’ve been in stage 4 with someone for long enough #you get access to secret new levels that vary from person to person #so far I’ve gotten one Brainlink and one Blood Pact and I’ve no idea how either happened but you won’t catch me complaining #hope you get to unlock the special secret mutual interaction levels too anon gdkhdkdhdj <3 #also road trip over I’m sorry for all the asks I still couldn’t get 😭😭#wife answers asks #not hilda

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amiharana · 2 years ago

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A very loose prompt: a while ago I found a bunch of Stone tower temple theme covers (especially NostalgiCore's and TheNamelessBard's covers), and that got me in a Revalink mood: first, a pretty straightforward idea of Revali and BotW!Link somehow walking around Stone Tower ruins and wondering just what those ruins were in its prime, and second: the tunes living on, and Revali or Link dancing to one of them while the other is watching (also, the fact that one of the catchiest fan lyrics go "danger lurks around every bend, you cannot succed alone; sing the song, let go of your grief, solider comes whose heart is stone" could be pretty easily made to fit revalink: both Link and Revali have reasons to craft an image of themselves as an unsheakeble warrior (Link literally stopped talking out of fear of saying the wrong thing, and Revali tries to look like the most arrogant Rito to ever walk Hyrule, despite evidence to the countrary) as someone who may as well have a heart of stone, and both of them have things they grieve about, so them going together through Ikana valley - a place that requires putting ghosts to rest - would sound a lot like fulfilling the lyrics. Bonus points if they actually need to solve the Stone Tower puzzles together to go back to BotW and key Ikana characters are still around to help them(not really ship relevant, I just thought it would be lowkey funny when BotW boys would bump into Ikana undead and learn that one of the Hero incarnations had shown up here already).

anon i first want to sincerely apologize it took me so long to answer this ask because (1) i never finished playing majora's mask so i can't write a good enough fic to do justice to mm lore and (2) it was sent during a time when i was probably prepping for an exam. i'm still prepping for exams, i have another one next wednesday 😭

but i still took the time to go find and listen the covers you were mentioned! i hope these were the right ones, because they went kinda hard ☝️😩 they both made me think about a tangled au like flynn rider!revali x rapunzel!link, like that one scene where everyone is dancing together in the town center or whatever lol. i couldn't find the one you mentioned with fan lyrics though but if you'd like to send them, or if anyone else knows where it's from, please do!

iirc, termina is a completely different world from hyrule and oot!link somehow gets in after an altercation with skull kid who has the majora's mask. spoilers for people who haven't played mm? but i just read that termina was a creation of skull kid's own mind so it's not even a real world 😳 so i'm interested to know how link and revali got into the stone tower temple in the first place, or if another temple of the same name perhaps exists in hyrule analogous to the one in termina. like would they run into skull kid somewhere in botw's hyrule? or find the mask on their own (since majora's mask is available in botw as dlc) and somehow termina still exists within the mask? link why the fuck would you put on the mask what da hell?

i would assume that termina's existence relies on skull kid's active envisionment of it and link's constant resetting with the ocarina that causes the perpetual three-day time loop and prevents the moon from falling. and in addition, that termina was created with the purpose of being skull kid's plaything to . hurt and kill people out of his frustration? like i said, i never got to finish mm so i'm kind of iffy on the details of the story sawrryy ✋😭 but it's like. does termina go against the conventions of time? if we assume that termina is a creation of skull kid's imagination, will it be able to continue existing as its own world? will it always be in a three-day loop or after oot!link saves termina, does it continue in a regular continuous flow of time, therefore resulting in the ruins of the stone tower temple? would places like clock town still be thriving thousands of years later? like what if link and revali met skull kid somehow in botw, pissed him off, got dragged in termina, and had to go exactly through what oot!link did in order to escape LMAOOO

i could imagine revali and link bickering about how the other was the reason why they got into this mess, and then they step into clock town from within the clock tower and are completely shocked because they were just in the lost woods and now they're in the middle of a town??? you mentioned wanting to see them meet key mm characters specifically from ikana, but since i don't know any of them (i'm sorry again 😭), imagine link and revali meeting anju at the stockpot inn just trying to get a room to sleep and anju being like. huh. your name is link, too? and having to explain to revali n link that a child in green with the same name and disposition as botw!link had come to termina years ago and saved their town from the moon falling and destroying it. and revali and link are just like. The moon was WHAT? and a CHILD saved you????

link and revali joining in during the carnival of time, and maybe the carnival of time now has a segment where they retell the story of the child in green who saved termina through song and dance, and link gets roped into dancing with the townspeople during the stone temple tower piece. he doesn't know the dance at all, but one thing about link is that he picks up very quickly on everything 😙 so revali is off to the sides of the town center with everyone else crossing his arms, watching link as he begins to catch onto the choreography and keeping in step with the rest of the dancers. he spins and twirls and claps with the other dancers, a smile growing on his face as the song continues, and revali is completely enamored. link had always been beautiful to him, but he was constantly surprisingly revali. this might become one of revali's favorite aspects of link's beauty now.

by the end of the dance, link is panting, sweating, and his cheeks are flushed with a rosy glow. revali's eyes are still on him; they never left link at all. someone nudges revali with their elbow and he glances at them briefly. "that one yours?" they say with a smirk, pointing their chin at link. revali looks back at link, who's smiling brightly thanking and complimenting the other dancers. the little hylian then catches revali's eye, and his bright grin becomes a shy, but warm smile.

revali's gaze softens. "he's not a object to possess," he says to the stranger. he watches as link bows slightly to the other dancers in farewell, then begins to jog back over to revali. "but if there's any possession occuring, it would be his hold on my heart." the stranger says nothing, eyes wide.

once link approaches, his jog falters into a walk. "have fun?" revali says, rather softly.

link nods, smiling. "i didn't think i'd learn it that fast, but it was a really fun dance."

revali hums. "well, it looked like you had fun doing it. ready to turn in for the night?"

"mhm," link replies, and revali can hear the drowsiness beginning to seep into his ever-slumberous songbird's voice. the little hylian then moves forward to cling to revali's wing, and the rito glances at the stranger who's been watching their exchange the entire time.

"enjoy the rest of your evening," revali says primly to him. he tosses his braids over his shoulder as they turn away to walk back to the inn. while he didn't "own" link, it was true, at least, that his heart was for link to own.

i don't want this to get too long and end up misremembering details or something, but imagine some of the lyrics of the stone tower temple song resonating too deeply with revali and link after they think about it later, so they ask anju about it and she tells them about the actual stone tower temple in ikana valley that the song talks about and maybe that's how they end up traveling to the temple, exploring the ruins, somehow getting booby-trapped inside, and having to complete old-school dungeon puzzles to get out 😄

that's all from me for now. if anyone else is interested in writing for this prompt, go for it 🫣

#revalink #loz #botw #loz botw #legend of zelda #amihan's revalinkverse #ask #i tried my best to answer this and i still barely hit the points oh well lmao 🥹#i know i keep saying sorry anon but i rly am ㅠㅠ #i'm getting so many signs to go finish the game #one of my classmates sent me an audio recording of them playing the song of healing today like #WHEN THE SEMESTER ENDS ILL RESTART MM AGAIN!!!#“you cannot succeed alone” me when link and the champions #would the rito exist in termina if it was a real world #skull kid has never met a rito before that's why there aren't any rito in termina #he doesn't have the imagination to conjure up bird people in the dream world #i think i talked ab it before but #i hc that both revali n link hate the idea of someone being their “better half” bc really that shit is stupid #they both believe you should be good on your own so that with your partner you're incredible together #that's why revali acted that way when the clock town stranger said “is that one yours?”#he probably meant like. is that your lover. but revali is a prickly dickhead

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