#and another one planned for tomorrow :)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

oh noooo or whatever

bonus aka The Real Motive Behind This:

SURPRISE double bonus. textless ver of the first pic under the cut

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 27 - Voiceless, “I have no mouth and I must scream”

I feel like I’ve been mean to Wind a lot heh, I feel bad for the little guy. It’s better than the three arrows I put in his chest in that other fic! ...Maybe, anyway.

Warnings: redeads

Ao3 link

————————————————————

Wind was not happy.

He struggled and kicked, tried to squirm out of the bruising hold on his arms, went limp and tried to just give the two soldiers dragging him along some underground passageway as worse of a time as possible. They’d already taken his weapons and only held him tighter as he struggled, but Wind kept it up anyway.

One of the Yiga grumbled in annoyance as Wind kicked at his legs, and he felt a glint of satisfaction.

“Rotten kid, that attitude will die plenty quick where you’re going,” the other Yiga snapped, ignoring Wind’s attempts to bite him. “This cell was for the hero, but what better way to lure him there than to dump his little brother in it first?”

“You built a cell underneath the outskirts of a village? Wow, that’s normal well-adjusted behavior,” Wind huffed, and one Yiga sneered.

“We merely adapted it for our purposes. And you’re the perfect person to test it out.”

Wind finally managed to clamp his jaws down on one of the soldier’s hands, and he yelled, gloves not thick enough to really protect him. The other one snatched at Wind and put a dagger to his throat before he could press his attack, and Wind reluctantly released the hand, getting the message.

“Link’ll never fall for your stupid trap anyway,” Wind said with a glare, and the Yiga both chuckled.

“Oh yes he will. Have fun, kid.”

A door was opened, and Wind was tossed through without any sort of fanfare, stumbling as he landed. He whirled back around to the door, but it was already closed and firmly locked.

Wind scowled at it, then turned to look around his prison, mind already turning towards thoughts of escape. Who did these Yiga guys think they were, kidnapping him off the street? He was the Hero of Winds! How had they even gotten the drop on him?

Wind scowled again and kicked at the floor of the cell. At least he’d been walking around with Four and Wild. Surely one of them would notice he was missing soon. And if not, well, Wind was pretty good at getting out of tight spots if he did say so himself.

No problem.

Wind put his hands on his hips, looking around the dark cell. There was a single tiny torch hung up on the wall, too high for Wind to reach that lit up the skinny space. A stone wall stood at the far end of the cell, but the two sides were open bars, darkness yawning beyond them.

It... kinda made his skin crawl.

Wind crossed his arms, feeling cold all of a sudden, but he shrugged it off with a huff. He needed to figure out how to get out of here, creepy darkness or not. The deep shadows beyond the bars suggested a bigger area, so if he could just find a loose one, he’d be set. Maybe he could even climb up and grab the torch.

Wind walked over to a side, starting at one end and giving each bar a solid shake. They seemed pretty firmly in the ground, but Wind worked his way across anyway, hoping for a loose one. He got all the way through without a single loose bar, and sighed, crossing to the other side to try there instead.

He’d gotten about halfway when he heard something, creaky and quiet.

Wind froze, listening, and the hair on the back of his neck went up as he heard it again. That noise was familiar. He couldn’t place it, but he knew it was familiar.

And that it was bad news.

A low moan came from somewhere in the darkness, and Wind slowly began to back away, nerves all alight. If he could just see he wouldn’t be nearly as nervous. Maybe the darkness was just freaking him out, and he was imagining noises because of that?

A bloodcurdling scream rang out, and Wind’s eyes went huge as a familiar sensation wracked through him, deathly cold and terrifying.

Oh no, he thought in a panic, his feet frozen to the floor, body unable to turn away from the shambling footsteps he could hear. Oh no oh no oh—

A face appeared in the flickering light of the torch, decaying and horrible, eyes glowing. A rotten hand stretched forward and wrapped around the bars, and Wind stared at the Redead, trapped in its unnatural terror.

It didn’t look like his version of them, taller, with a few ragged clothes on its lanky body, but the feeling it left him with was the same, sheer, unnatural terror.

I’ve got to get away, maybe by the door I’ll be far enough it won’t be able to—

A different scream rang out, sending another jolt through Wind’s chest, and he watched in horror as another redead grasped at the bars, reaching out to him, trying to pull him close. Beady eyes stared at him, glowing and malicious with hunger, and Wind might have whimpered if he could move his mouth.

He fought the paralysis as much as he could, but the moment it started to wear off, one of them screamed again, leaving Wind with no escape. More screams joined the first two, and Wind choked on his breath as a whole group of redeads shambled out of the darkness. Screams came near constantly from their lips as they grabbed at the bars and reached through, trying to get at him.

They can’t get through, they can’t get through they can’t hurt you, it’s just to scare you, Wind thought frantically, heart drumming in his chest. They don’t want you to escape that’s why they put them there you’re okay you’re okay you’re okay.

The screams just kept coming, endless and piercing and shooting Wind’s heart through with inescapable terror. He couldn’t even move to cover his ears, and he felt a terrified scream build in his own throat.

But it wouldn’t come out. Wind could only keep standing there, immobilized, tears trailing silently down his cheeks.

It felt like his heart was being encased in ice, frost shooting through his veins with every scream and grazing touch. More screams joined the agonizing chorus from behind him, and the terror felt like it would crush him, repeatedly crashing over him like a freezing wave.

Hands grabbed at him, nails grazing his skin. Wind couldn’t move, the torrential screams hammering at him, cracking him, filling him up with so much terror his mind couldn’t focus on anything else.

His world narrowed down to screams and beady eyes, Wind drowning in terror, eyes darting around wildly, mind screaming every time a hand grazed him.

If he could move he’d be curled up on the ground, but all he could do was stand here and sob in his mind as a deathly cold hand finally closed around his wrist.

Then a different noise rang out over the screams.

It was garbled in Wind’s ears, some sort of talking he couldn’t make out over the redeads’ shrieks. But suddenly music poured into the cell, cheery and bright, and the screaming stopped.

All of it.

Wind’s ears still rang with them, and the terror still pressed over him like a wet blanket, but there was finally silence, and the hand trying to drag Wind closer to the bars had stopped in its efforts, the redead’s mouth stuck open with its teeth bared.

Wind would’ve sobbed if he could move, and he heard footsteps and talking, his ears still ringing too much to make out. Strong arms pulled the hand off his wrist and cradled him to a chest, shouted something at the other sets of footsteps. The song trilled again, bright and warm, and though Wind still couldn’t do much as twitch his pinky, some of his panic eased as he felt a steady heartbeat against where his ear rested.

The others were here.

There must have been a trip out, but Wind missed most of it, still trapped in the lingering screams he could hear in his mind. Tears trickled steadily down his cheeks, and past the unnaturally sharp fear was a flicker of annoyance at crying so much.

But the terror mostly blotted it out.

Sunshine finally fell onto his face, warm and soft, and whoever was holding Wind lowered themselves to a knee. A face looked down at him, and Wind saw Twilight, eyes fearful.

“Hey Wind, you alright?” he asked, and Wind could only stare at him, heart pounding, terror still clenching like a talon around him. “Wind?”

“Is he okay?” someone else asked, and Twilight leaned back, Time and Wild’s faces both coming into view next.

“He’s not responding,” Twilight replied, and Time leaned in, studying Wind’s face with a worried look.

“Wind, can you hear me?” Time asked, setting a hand on his chest.

I can hear you fine, I just can’t move! Wind wanted to scream, but his mouth was still frozen shut. The only thing that he was still able to do was cry, apparently.

Time gently wiped his tears away, and if Wind wasn’t still so terrified, he was sure he’d be embarrassed. “Do we know how long he was down there?”

“An hour, hour and a half? No more than two based on when we started looking,” a voice Wind placed as Wild added anxiously. Oh good, he avoided the trap. “Is that bad?”

“It’s a long time to be around an attacking redead, no less dozens of them like he was,” Time replied, gently tilting Wind’s head around as he looked at it. “Usually the song fixes things, I have no idea why he’s still frozen like this.”

“Prolonged exposure I’d guess,” Four’s voice added, and Twilight’s hand combed gently through his hair. “It might just take him longer to break out of it. He’s so cold...”

“I still can’t believe we lost sight of him like that,” Wild said quietly, and a different hand touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Wind.”

Oh Wild, it’s not your fault, Wind thought, trying to look the champion in the eye and convey the sentiment. I’d tell you so if I could.

Some more footsteps pounded against the grass suddenly, and the amount of voices around Wind doubled, more faces leaning over to look at him, worried questions floating over his head. The other Links had obviously joined the group, and Wind struggled even harder against the paralysis making him nothing but deadweight. But he remained as frozen as ever, a scream still stuck in his throat, ice around his heart.

“Give him space, I’m pretty sure he’s aware of what’s going on and you all are crowding him,” Warriors’ voice chided, and the majority of heads pulled back from his view. The captain’s face appeared in his line of sight, full of worry. “Wind? Can you move anything? Even just something small?”

Wind started at his feet and worked his way upward this time, trying to move anything he could. Fear still thrummed through him, his body on high alert, tears tracking down his cheeks, but he finally managed to twitch his eyelids a little.

“Hey, there we go,” Warriors said with relief in his eyes. “Can you do it again?”

Wind focused, managing another twitch, and almost did a full blink when he tried again. Warriors’ face was still worried, but he looked encouraged by even the tiny movement.

“Here, let me see if this helps some more,” Time said then, and Twilight shifted Wind around in his arms so his head was a little more upright.

Time pulled out his ocarina, purplish blue in the sunshine, and he played the trilling song again, the one Wind finally recognized as the song of passing. Time played it through a couple times, magic falling over Wind like a beam of sunlight. He was surprised the time of day itself didn’t change, but maybe Time was stopping it from doing that somehow.

Suddenly the magic loosened something inside him, the icy terror cracking, thawing a little. Some feeling swept back into his body, and the scream that had been stuck in Wind’s throat this whole time suddenly burst out, loud and terrified.

Time immediately stopped playing, and Wind began to tremble as feeling slowly spread to the rest of him, his scream ending in a hiccup. It felt amazing to finally give voice to the horrible coldness in him, and Wind barely noticed when a thumb brushed along his cheek.

“Wind?” Time asked quietly, and Wind breathed in a shaking breath, firmly blinking tears out of his eyes.

“Th-thank, tha-ank y-you,” he managed get out in a miserable-sounding whimper.

Sighs of relief went up around him, and Time gave Wind a smile, even with the way Wind was shaking and still unable to stop the tears from escaping his eyes.

“You’re welcome Sailor,” Time replied, and brushed a few more of his tears away.

Wind managed a shaky smile back, then relaxed into Twilight’s arms, more and more of the ice in his chest melting away into bright sunshine.

[alexxuun]

My god… I forgot how much twenty one pilots stir the artist in me. Whatever they are putting in it, my mind is going wild with creativity and imagery. Demaverse straight up is just such a well thought out world and storyline. It’s a book in music form.

[chaoticacecryptid]

For @ffxiiweek Day 2: esper

I am hella tired but I still wanted to do something lol, so I heavily referenced this image of Famfrit! This was the first esper I learned about before I even got into ffxii, so I figured it'd be fitting to draw this guy for today's prompt!

[petricorah]

.

[usermoon]

beginning / previous / next

[loverboybrightsideghost]

the will to practice leaving my soul after i get good jury comments

[shrews-studies]

Graduation exam tomorrow, guys if I survive this I'll be the most carefree person on earth for the next 2 years

[bi-bats]

When in doubt go for the classic bonding over various breakfast foods :D ☕️🥞🧇🥯🥐🧋🥤

Thank you for the writing prompt!!! I took some liberties with the definition of "bonding," but this gave me a cute idea for a one shot so I still think y'all will like it!!! Here we go, fic after the cut:

Tim hides his smile under the lip of his mug as Jason presses a kiss to his forehead. He peeks at the bagel being placed in front of him— toasted perfectly and with exactly the right amount of cream cheese. As Jason pulls his hand away, Tim puts down his mug and reaches for his forearm, pulls it to his chest. Jason tilts into it, leaning his warmth against Tim. 

This thing between them is new. Not the touching itself, but the tenderness behind it. The way he just expects Jason to be on his couch when he gets home from work or stumbles in after his patrol, covered in grime and smelling like Gotham. The way he stays the night as often as he reasonably can. The way whenever he’s within an inch of him, Tim seems to be reaching for him. The way Jason seems to be less than an inch away from him an awful lot of the time.

Tim stares at his bagel and tries to think of when he actually taught Jason how to make it the right way. Maybe he just learned through osmosis. Just absorbed it from spending so many breakfasts together that he knows exactly where to turn the toaster oven knob between light and medium to get it that exact shade of brown Tim prefers. 

His thumb rubs a track over the skin of Jason’s forearm as he thinks about exactly what’s going on between them, and the exact way they haven’t talked about it. 

He’s almost brought it up a few times, but he doesn’t know how Jason feels about labels. How that conversation is going to go. And it isn’t all that important what they call this, really, as long as Jason is on his couch or in his bed or within his reach.

He’s only pulled out of his reverie when he feels Jason tuck his face into the curve of his neck, feels the pull of lips that mean he’s hiding a smile there. 

“Are you feeding me breakfast, or are you going to let me go? I’m starving.” 

A soft laugh falls out of Tim, and the sound is an echo of the blissful feeling that’s occupied his ribs for weeks. He nuzzles into Jason’s hold, humming like he’s thinking about it. “I don’t know, you’re pretty warm.”

“Well, you’re starting to look pretty tasty.” Jason’s voice is muffled and a little rough the way it always is in the morning, and he can feel the vibration of it rippling along his throat. 

“Starting to? Haven’t you had enough of me yet?” The questions aren’t laced with anxiety the way they might have been weeks ago, before Jason did things like wake Tim up with coffee and breakfast. The questions are easy and light, because he knows the answer, even if he doesn’t know what to call this thing between them.

“Mmm, I don’t know,” Jason answers anyways, because he thinks he still has to pretend he isn’t going soft. He lets out a put-upon sigh, his breath hot and tickling on Tim’s skin. “Well, I am a zombie, so I guess it makes sense. Brains. Flesh,” he teases, tilting his head in. He lets out a playful, undead noise and lightly bites down on the skin of Tim’s neck.

A giddy laugh pushes out of his mouth as he squirms away, just lightly enough that he isn’t really going anywhere. Jason’s teeth release after a moment of them giggling together, and when he starts to pull away, Tim lets him go.

“Eat your breakfast, Zombie Boy,” he instructs.

“Guh,” Jason deadpans, turning to grab his plate as Tim snickers. When he sits down, he tangles their ankles together under the table and piles a bite of eggs onto his fork.

As Tim goes to pick up his coffee mug, his eyes meet Jason’s. There’s a soft, warm thing in them that’s sweeter than the sugary mocha he was about to sip, and his heart does a little flip as he thinks about how absolutely perfect things are-

And then the window behind him slams open.

There’s a noise like a body tumbling to the floor, a sigh he hears every time that particular body tumbles through his window—

And Jason freezes, the panic slamming down in his eyes as they go wide, and Tim knows his eyes are mirroring the expression. Tim thinks maybe Jason is trying to communicate something as they watch each other panic. He wonders if he should be trying to communicate something back, but it’s not like they can telepathically come up with a believable excuse as to why Jason is at his breakfast table, not wearing a shirt because Tim is wearing his shirt, and since Jason isn’t wearing his shirt you can see about fifty hickies in various states of fading-

“Ugh. Mornin’, guys,” Dick interrupt the silence.

And then Jason’s eyes aren’t on him anymore, they’re on Dick, tracking his every movement like he isn’t sure if he should run or pull a gun on him.

But Dick doesn’t say anything else, he just strides over to Tim’s kitchen and pulls out a box of cereal from the cabinet. Jason’s eyes are flicking between the two of them, still panicked, as Dick opens his fridge and sniffs the milk, makes a disgusted noise, then replaces the cap and puts it back in the fridge. He ends up just grabbing the box and going to sit at the head of the table, noisily digging pieces of cereal out of the bag with his fingers.

“Good morning,” Dick repeats pointedly, because no one actually answered him. Tim forgives Jason for looking like he’s leaning more towards option B, because he’s starting to think that shooting him isn’t the worst idea he’s ever heard.

“Good morning, Dick.” Tim says, in what is probably a more pleasant tone than warranted. He’s being incredibly patient. “Get out,” he says in the same pleasant tone.

A disappointed look flashes in Dick’s eyes as he purses his lips. “Don’t be rude, Timmy.” 

“I’m rude? You didn’t even knock!” Tim says, his patience starting to fail him. 

“I did, actually,” Dick starts, a knowing, antagonistic little smirk starting to pull at his lips, and Tim’s starting to actively wish Jason would pull out a gun or two. At least a knife. But he doesn’t, so nothing stops him from adding, “But you lovebirds looked a little busy.” 

Tim’s eyes flick to Jason involuntarily, the word love seeming to detach from the rest of the sentence and suck all of the air out of the room. 

Jason looks terrified. 

But it’s not the kind of terrified Tim expects, not the kind that screams TOO SOON in neon, flashing lights. 

Huh. 

Tim forces his eyes back to Dick. He shoves the question, “Why are you here?” through his gritted teeth. 

“I wanted breakfast.” He shrugs, but it’s obvious that’s not what he wanted. However, he has something far more interesting in front of him than whatever he came for, and he clearly isn’t going to be distracted. “The more important question is: what’s going on between you two?” 

He pops another piece of sugary cereal into his mouth, his gaze locked on Tim. The smug grin on his face makes Tim consider grabbing one of Jason’s guns himself, and in the following moments, he treats himself to several violent, bloody fantasies that end in Dick begging for mercy.

Then there’s a clatter that pulls Tim’s gaze away, and his eyes instinctively lock onto the source: Jason’s fork has fallen out of his hand and onto his plate, a bit of egg scattering across the table in front of it. 

“We’re dating,” Jason says, like he’s just realizing it. 

And again, it leaves Tim pleasantly surprised to find that he doesn’t look scared of that.

“We are?”

Dick sucks a breath through his teeth like that was the wrong thing to say, but a smile is spreading across Jason’s lips, because he didn’t ask it like he was being forced into it. He asked it like he couldn’t believe it. Like he’s won a prize.

“Yeah, we are,” Jason confirms, giving him a warm, crooked smile. Then he drops his eyes to the table and grabs a napkin to wipe up the egg, his tone light as he continues, “I mean, unless you don’t want to-”

“No! I want to-” Tim realizes his interruption was just a little too eager, and color bursts across his cheeks. Jason’s eyes flicker back to him and he looks pleased, smug, and Tim realizes what he just did. “Oh, fuck you,” he huffs, even though he finds he isn’t all that upset about it. 

Amusement glitters in Jason’s eyes as he starts, “I mean, last night-” 

And those are all of the words he gets out before Dick drops the cereal box on the table and clamps his hands over his ears, letting out a loud, panicked noise to cover whatever Jason was about to say. 

“Okay! Don’t need to hear that!” Dick says, his hands still over his ears. Jason snickers at him and picks his fork back up, apparently deciding to go back to his breakfast.

“That’s what you get for interrupting me and my boyfriend,” Tim tells him, because he knows Dick can hear him even with his hands covering his ears. Besides, he wants to see how the word tastes. And he wants to see the look on Jason’s face when he says it. 

It’s his new favorite word, he decides. Jason’s eyes flash back up, and the heat in them hits him like a bullet. Suddenly, all he can think about is how very far away Jason is.

“Hey, Dick, I think you should leave.” Tim can’t look away from the warm look on Jason’s face. Dick needs to get out of the vicinity as soon as humanly possible, because in about 10 seconds, this is not going to be rated E for everyone.

“Fine. But I’m taking the cereal,” Dick groans, pushing away from the table and grabbing the box.

Two hours later, when Jason throws away the forgotten breakfast from earlier and starts over, Tim decides he’s glad neither of them shot Dick. 

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

It's fucking 4 am. It's FUCKING 4am. It's fuuuuuckingggg 4 am. It's FUCKing 4 am.

It's 4 am fucking.

[foxcassius]

can you even belieeeeeve that i am almost done w the buttonband on jake's sweater. then in its just one more sleeve and done babey!!!!

[mishkakagehishka]

Writing a CV really is all about lying

[adore-gregor]

🫠

[blackjack-15]

okay i need to go the frack to sleep it is well into the am but i'm finishing this ep

sydcarmy scene still has me buzzin and by the throat, hand to heart

i'm prolly gonna go feral over the audio choices after i finish because i know myself but i gotta shout out to the music overlaying the sounds of the city and then on top of it clearly Sydney's voice ringing out and keeping order???

from stoppard's arcadia (sorry, was a lit major long ago) is this awesome quote "in an ocean of ashes, islands of order" -- that's what syd's voice over the chaos makes me think of; carmy's providing support, syd's providing structure; sure the restaurant's going through hell, but together they keep going

and it's a very good thing, because this episode does not pull the punch that carmy, left to his own devices, would be joining mikey sooner rather than later. he's doing what mikey should have been doing -- al anon, fixing The Beef, taking in the sunset in chicago. sugar's voicemail that it's mikey's birthday and that she's thinking of carmy is the last, most obvious piece of the comparison, and it's something that The Bear seems to specialize in -- the soft, understated scene with a dark undertone to it

each episode has gotten better, and this one is a clear favorite so far

and i'm really happy carmy hasn't found the envelope from mikey yet -- i don't know he could handle it right now, especially since a phone call from someone who didn't know mikey was dead was enough to majorly throw him off for nearly a full day

[phagodyke]

aouuugh my uterus......

[miodiodavinci]

oscillating rapidly and producing a low tone in the note of c