#don't ask me why i wrote this

[veephoenix]

all that's left | noah sebastian

noah sebastian x reader | tags & triggers warnings: pure angst and pain, mentioned car crash, mentioned coma, implied death | words: 900ish

͢ all that's left

Jolly sat in the hard plastic chair, staring at the floor, tracing the same crack in the linoleum with his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time. His fingers twitched in his lap, restless with the things he still couldn’t make sense of, the things he didn’t know how to say to her.

It had been two weeks since the accident. Two weeks of waiting for her to wake up, to open her eyes and remember. Two weeks of trying to accept reality and trying to find the right way to tell her the truth—truth that he still couldn’t accept himself. 

A deep, hollow ache tugged at him as he glanced toward her motionless form in the bed. Machines hummed softly around her, cables trailing from her body like vines trying to hold her down to this world. Her face was pale beneath the harsh hospital lighting. It was hard to reconcile the vibrant girl he remembered with the frail figure lying in front of him now.

He hadn’t left the hospital much since the crash. Couldn’t. Her uncle hadn’t come, as expected, but there had been friends and other relatives that had come to check on her, that had cried when they’d seen her, that had cried even before stepping into the room, once the news had reached them. 

None of it changed a thing. 

A faint groan, barely audible, broke the silence in the room. Jolly’s heart leapt into his throat as he snapped his head up.

Her eyelids fluttered.

For a moment, he froze, unsure if he had imagined it. But then her fingers twitched, her lips parted in a faint gasp, and her eyes—those eyes—opened, unfocused and wide with confusion.

He pronounced her name in a questioning tone. Jolly leaned forward, his voice shaky but hopeful, like it might shatter at any moment.

She blinked slowly, trying to focus, her gaze darting around the room in a frantic haze. Her breaths came in short, shallow bursts. Her body seemed stiff, uncooperative, like it wasn’t hers anymore. She stared down at herself, at the tubes snaking into her arms, the bandages, the bruises, the weight of her broken body sinking in.

“Wh–where…?” Her voice was raspy, as if it had been buried somewhere deep, far away. Panic flickered in her eyes as her hands instinctively pulled at the wires tethering her to the machines.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Jolly said quickly, standing now, reaching out but not touching her. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re fine.”

She flinched at the sound of his voice, her gaze finally locking onto him. But there was no recognition there, only fear.

“J-Jolly?” she whispered, her lips barely moving.

He nodded, forcing himself to breathe, to stay calm. “Yeah, it’s me. Hold on, I’ll get the doctors.”

He stumbled to the door, calling for a nurse, for anyone. It wasn’t long before they flooded the room—nurses, doctors, people in scrubs with voices too loud and movements too fast. They surrounded her, checking vitals, speaking in hushed tones meant to reassure, but her confusion and panic only deepened.

Jolly stood back, hands shoved into his sweats’ pockets, watching helplessly as they worked. This was it. This was the moment he had dreaded, and it was happening too fast. He wasn’t ready. But it wasn’t about him—it was about her. And Noah.

After what felt like forever, the doctors finished their examination. One of them—a tall man with kind eyes—placed a hand on Jolly’s shoulder as they left.

“She’s stable. It’s good that she’s awake. Take it easy, okay? She’s going to be confused and disoriented. We’ll be back in a while to check on her again. ”

Jolly nodded mutely. Easy? There was nothing easy about this.

The room was quieter now, just the two of them again. She lay back against the pillows, her brow furrowed in confusion, but calmer. She turned her head—even that simple movement hurt like hell—. Her eyes landed on Jolly.

“What… happened to me? Why… why am I here?”

Jolly took a slow breath, pulling up the chair beside her bed. His hands were trembling slightly, but he tried to steady them as he clasped them together. “You were in an accident,” he said softly. “Two weeks ago. A car crash.”

She blinked, processing. Her gaze dropped to the cast encasing her leg, the bruises staining her skin, and the machines still connected to her. She swallowed hard, a flicker of understanding crossing her face. It made sense, even if it didn’t feel real. 

“Two… weeks?” she whispered, almost to herself.

Jolly nodded. “Yeah. You’ve been in a coma. But you’re awake now. You’re going to be okay.”

She didn’t respond right away, staring down at her hands. Her face twisted as if she was trying to pull memories from the darkness, but it was like sifting through fog. Then, slowly, she looked back at him.

“Jolly…” Her voice broke a little. “Noah… He was with me. He was in the car too.”

Jolly’s heart clenched, and he felt the blood drain from his face. 

He opened his mouth, but no words came. Just the crushing weight of what had to be said, pressing down on him as he tried to gather the courage to speak.

Her eyes widened as the silence stretched on, and the air between them growing impossibly heavy as her heart succumbed to the most horrifying panic she would ever experience; her eyes, unblinking, filling with tears. 

“Jolly… where’s Noah?” 

[slutty-d1saster]

Omegaverse Dark Souls got me drinking from that Estrus Flask

[reallygroovyninja]

Puppy Love

Clarke quivered with anticipation as Raven finished setting up the bulky camera on its tripod in the snow before the cozy log cabin. Her tail whipped back and forth wildly, carving trails in the sparkling white powder behind her. It was almost time for their special Christmas photo shoot! 

Clarke loved getting her picture taken, especially when she and Lexa got to dress up. She turned to Lexa with a doggy grin, taking in their matching outfits – bright red scarves wrapped jauntily around their necks, contrasting beautifully with their golden fur. 

Lexa sat serenely beside Clarke, though her tail also swept little furrows in the snow. Her mouth was open in a smile, her pink tongue lolling out the side adorably. Her eyes shone with joy as she gazed at her beloved companion. Clarke trembled with eager excitement, practically bouncing up and down on her furry haunches. 

“Okay puppies, look here!” Raven called, and Clarke's head whipped around, her ears perking up. As Raven held up a tasty treat to get their attention, Clarke stretched her neck up with utter delight, a goofy golden retriever smile plastered across her friendly face. She glanced sideways to see Lexa elegantly lift her head, showcasing her sleek profile, Lexa's eyes smiled too, full of love for this wonderful time of year with her most special friend. 

Just as the camera snapped, Clarke couldn't resist planting a big, wet, sloppy kiss right on Lexa's muzzle, catching her by surprise. Lexa snorted, wrinkling her nose, but was quickly powerless against the onslaught of Clarke's puppy love. Her tail wagged happily despite her mock protests. Raven laughed at capturing the perfect Christmas scene – Clarke's unrestrained affection and jolly spirit contrasted with Lexa's composed grace, all framed by the quintessential snowy cabin and evergreen wreath behind them. 

As they snuggled together on the steps afterwards, Clarke continued to smother Lexa with kisses as Lexa indulgently accepted them, wrapping a paw around Clarke. Their matching scarves and the peaceful snowfall made it a truly memorable holiday picture, sure to be printed and framed for Christmases to come. 

[vampirepuppygirl]

Hhhh

Ghuuuuh

Hnnnmmmggg

Ghaaaaa

Uhguuuuu

Transgender.........

[flurry-bace]

one day, in the far future, you'll be sitting on your porch in a rocking chair, and a few young kids will go up to you and say, "hey, what's Crush 40?" and you can pass on your legacy

i hope i am not only a mutual to you but also someone you can point at a fictional character and go "oh shit that guy on tumblr is super fucking mentally unwell about that one" about

[shxxtteredfantasy]

"I may have done some questionable things, am completely evil and will probably never be forgiven....

"But I have big tits and a nice ass and I think that makes up for it, honestly."

[my-name-is-bunnyfoxy]

Wasn't really gonna explain but meh why not I'm bored.

There might be some people confused so I'ma explain a little. Sadly it won't be in full detail but Jason Biggs, the original VA for 2012 Leo before he was replaced, had from 2012-2014 been making controversial tweets such as sexual jokes about Ann Romney and Janna Ryan in response to the 2012 Republican National Conventio joking about the missing Malaysia Airlines Flight 370 in 2014, joking about Malaysia Airlines Flight , which was shot down later that year, and mocking the death of The Bachelorette contestant Eric Hill.

Several calls have been made to Nickelodeon asking to fire Jason for this and eventually he was fired around 2014, with episode "Of Rats And Men" being his last episode he would voice Leonardo and would later be replaced by Dominic Catrambone.

MM Fans: With all the controversy, we’re worried that Leo’s voice actor will get replaced!

TMNT 2012 Fans:

[fearandhatred]

the rapture

it's a holy thing, in theory, a glorious celebration, where those who believe rise to meet the lord in the air. it's a day of joy, in theory, and maybe even of vindication for those who have always believed.

but no one thinks about how it's like to see the dead rise again—bodies clawing their way out of bolted wood and six feet of packed earth, bodies decomposed and maggot-feasted, nails stained with rot and dirt. no one thinks about the violent lurch of their bodies being jolted into the air by the stomach, gravity flinging their heads back down to earth as they struggle in vain to find footing on molecules and gas. no one thinks about those who don't make it.

no one thinks about the screams.

crowley hadn't thought about any of these things. he certainly hadn't thought about the angels that would be called back to heaven along with the believers.

here they stand dead in the middle of absolute ruin, the promise of heaven the only thing left to look forward to on the wasteland of this earth. the sky has opened up like the eye of god, watching over her people for the very first time, and crowley's black wings against the beams of light only remind him that he doesn't belong up there with the rest of them. crowley wraps his arms tight around aziraphale, squeezes his torso like he can maybe keep aziraphale with him through sheer will or, laughably, demonic intervention. like love could ever be enough. like love could stay.

around them, the cacophony of wails and mockingly exaltant trumpets scorch the earth in their intensity, clashing and agonising even—especially—for them, and words make no sound. but they hold on to each other, even as they shrink into themselves against the noise of the undying. i don't want to leave you either, aziraphale doesn't say, but his hands dig into the cotton of crowley's sleeve, and crowley hears the words through his fingertips.

he feels a stronger upward resistance against his embrace now, and he clings tighter, steadfast, even as aziraphale's grip falters. but he knows he can't hold on forever. he knows that nothing ever lasts.

trembling with something unspeakable, he lifts his arms from aziraphale's torso and covers the angel's ears with his hands. he feels more than hearing aziraphale's resulting sob, and he spreads out his wings to wrap them around their bodies. a shield, a comfort, a goodbye.

it's okay, the gesture says in silence. i'll see you in another lifetime.

[arthur-lesters-right-arm]

Arthur Lester searching up Sex With An Elder God on Ye Ol' Porn'ub in hopes of some sort of instruction

[jesteringbug]

Wow! Your Ignihyde redesigns are so fucking ugly! So hideous and uninspired, and their ugliness is only amplified by your very poor drawing skills and even uglier art style! And it's laughable how you really believe that you did better than the official designs, never do that again, you can't design or draw for shit.

too late i'm already planning a heartslabyul redesign lmao

[gauloiseblue]

[TW: implied non-con, somno, stalking, horror]

There's something strange going on in your apartment.

It had been going on for a while, but you've only noticed it recently.

Your sleeping schedule wasn't healthy per se, but there'd be the time when you felt so sleepy, you almost passed out on your way to the bed.

At first you suspected it was the calming tea you bought, but the drowsiness still came, even when you drank something else.

It happened at the same hour, too. Because the moment you hit the bed, you saw the same exact numbers on your clock.

8:00 PM

You rarely had a dreamless night, but somehow you always did when it happened. It's almost like you're sleeping like a rock, only to wake up, feeling groggy, and strangely sore.

Your neck was hurt, your shoulders were tense, and your hips felt like they'd been bruised.

Sometimes you found some strange bruises on your body. When you took a shower, you saw one in your inner arm. And later one, you discovered more on your inner thighs. You weren't that reckless to get a bruise in such places, so it was very confusing at that time.

Of course you've checked yourself to the doctor, but the result was nothing out of the ordinary, so there's nothing you should be afraid of. Though the doctor said it's possible that you've been sleepwalking, which would explain most of the odd things that's been happening.

After a night of heavy sleep, you woke up to find something that's out of place. You swore you didn't use that much tissues, but somehow they filled up your bin. You vaguely recalled putting your phone beside the pillow, but you found it on the nightstand the next morning.

One time, you felt so sleepy after a bath, that you didn't pay attention to your clothes. But you knew you had your shirt right, so why did you find it backward the next day?

There was a lingering smell that was foreign to you. It's almost like a musk, but not strong enough to be distinct. So you shrugged it off and thought of it as the remnant of your sweat. Which, you didn't know why you did, but you sweat a lot that night.

One or a few times, you stirred from your sleep and found yourself unable to move. All your limbs were heavy, as if something was weighing you down. And when you slept on your stomach, you often felt restrained, as if a large snake had wrapped itself around you.

It should've been obvious to you that something was wrong. Something was off about your apartment.

The first time you had a hunch was the moment you saw the CCTV of your floor. It was when you lost your spare key for the second time, and the security asked you to fill the form at the office. There were multiple screens in that place, which monitored each floor of the building. You glanced at the section of your floor, and saw your neighbor entering his room. The blond man has a room right across you, on the right side from the lift.

When you came to your floor, you noticed the security camera at the end of the hall was pointing at the lift. You looked back to the closing door, before your eyes went back to the small black dome on the ceiling, staring at the red dot.

It didn't click in your mind that something's off. Which you blissfully ignored as you stepped into your nightmare.

That night, you fell on the bed with your top only. Because you didn't have the energy to put on the rest of your clothes. And when you rose up from sleep the next day, you felt a cramp in your stomach. Your hip was so sore that you had trouble walking.

That's when you began to suspect something.

You had no idea what it was, but there was something in your apartment.

You tried to stake out for the night—once or twice every week, but nothing happened. Nothing was off about your room. You did doze off on one of the nights, but you didn't wake up sore the next morning. You're just… a little cold.

That was three days ago, and now you're preparing for another night.

You're drinking a glass of water when you glance at the clock. It's 7:58 PM, and it shouldn't be long before the lethargy seeps in. You finish the drink before you put the glass down on the table.

Yet it slips out of your hand before you could place it.

The glass rolls away under your bed, and you try to search with your hand, before you kneel down by the bed.

The sleepiness has taken effect on you, and you almost fall on your face when you try to peek into the darkness.

It's hard to get your eyes to focus, as you squint your eyes to locate the glass. It's near the hand of a mannequin, and you reach out to get it from under your bed.

But the hand is warm to touch when your knuckles brush against it. It was… too warm… too veiny for a mannequin.

It's not until its finger twitches, that you're hit with a delayed warning.

You don't own a mannequin.

Your body stumbles backward, as your mouth hangs open with a silent scream. In your mind, you were shrieking, it should be loud enough to alert the neighbors. Yet what comes from your mouth is a whimper.

You scramble to get on your feet, but the floor feels like sinking sand whenever you take a step.

The door is heavy when you pull it, before your knees give up, and force you to crawl into the small gap. The skid sound of your skin is drowned by the ringing of your ears, further disorienting you from getting to the front door.

Yet the moment you're close to the exit, your body collapses under its own weight. You fall flat on your stomach, with your eyes threatening to close at any time, pulling you down to your slumber.

You stretch your hand towards the door, which is a useless attempt since you can't reach the handle. The world seems to grow bigger, while you just turn smaller and smaller.

A heavy footstep awakens you from your daze, and you muster your energy to drag yourself away. Though it's no avail, since you can no longer feel your limbs.

And right before you succumb to your sleep, a pair of hands slip under your arms, before pulling you up with ease. You whine as his arms find their way around you, caging you with his strong embrace.

As your consciousness slips away, you hear him murmur something before everything goes dark.

[otome-dissection]

he did Not just fucking say all that

[simon-pitch]

some of the latest doodles from my scrapbook

(open for higher resolution)

[another-lost-mc]

Something something about Zee, an advanced synthetic assigned to protect you as your ship makes its long voyage back to Earth in a futuristic Alien AU.

Along the way, you realize something's changed as he starts to act a little too human at times, when before he shrugged off your attempts to become friends, your silly jokes and harmless teasing easily swept aside and ignored. The ship lacks luxury and privacy with its cramped quarters and with the rowdy, abrasive crew as the only other options for company, you still find yourself gravitating towards him. The human crew members are cruel to him, ridiculing him for his very existence. Despite his gruff demeanor, he's gone out of his way to make sure you're cared for and as comfortable as one can be on a rickety space in the middle of outer space. The last thing you want is for Zee to think you're as callous as the rest of them are. You appreciate him for what - who - he is.

When his previous annoyance at his prime directive, protecting the most obnoxiously cheerful human he's ever met, fades away into something else, he finds new reasons to stay closer to you than ever before. He lingers on the edge of your peripheral vision, the second shadow that follows your steps - and whether you can see him or not, you know he's there. Never more than a room away, you wonder what it is he's waiting for, or why you shiver with anticipation every time you feel his stare rake over your skin from somewhere nearby.

Forced together and living in close quarters, who knows what might happen before journey's end?

You can't remember where you first heard the rumors, but you knew - or at least suspected - that certain androids could have sex. Your android could, if you weren't mistaken about the shape of his body underneath the form-fitting jumpsuit he wore around the ship. (And when exactly did you start thinking of him as yours?) You've heard that some of the most advanced androids are capable of feeling pain, but are they capable of feeling pleasure too? You're woefully uneducated on this subject, not that you've had much reason to consider the question at all, but thankfully, he's a very patient teacher with a fondness for hands-on learning.

What he tells you, not with words but in smoldering glances and firm but gentle touches as he peels away your clothing, piece by piece, is that pleasure itself is possible. At least, the sorts of pleasure a synthetic being like him can experience. In most circumstances, those mimicked sensations, a trick of wires and circuitry far too difficult to explain, aren't usually enough to entice him to indulge in such messy encounters.

All it takes to change his mind is for someone else to look at you a certain way, or an innocent touch that lingers long enough for him to notice and frown at its meaning. Suddenly, the idea of sex is very appealing if it means tempting you away from anyone else he deems unworthy of your time or attention.

As a synthetic, sex isn't a sensory feast the way it is for humans. The rhythmic movements as he snaps his hips in a slow and deep but unyielding rhythm doesn't tire him out. Instead, he focuses on watching every tiny expression that flits across your face, listening to the soft noises you think he can't hear over the sound of squeaky springs as he moves, and nearly smothering you with his weight into the thin, uncomfortable mattress in your sleeping quarters.

He doesn't know why the single drop of sweat trickling down your face and over your jaw is so enticing - but then again, he's never felt hunger like this before either. Maybe next time he'll be tempted to taste the salty trail, if he's not transfixed watching the pleasure and adoration that brighten your gaze instead.

When you bite your bottom lip between your teeth to try and keep quiet, he runs his thumb across your mouth, ack and forth with a hint of pressure, until it's shiny and wet with spit. With a slick glide, he pushes it inside slowly until he can touch the tip of your tongue. It's a pleasant picture, one he'll think of often long after this day ends. He decides that if he can't hear all your little sounds, then feeling the vibrations as you suck the digit shallowly into your mouth is the next best thing.

Above all else, he doesn't want you to turn your face away, or to close your eyes even as your eyelids flutter and your head tips back against the threadbare pillow. His low voice, rougher than you've ever heard it before, cuts through the warm silence like a knife as his fingers hold your chin in place to keep you still. He can't help but stare at his own reflection, hair wild and expression desperate as any living man, in the shimmery film that glazes over your eyes.

In the dark ocean of space, surrounded by nothing but a sea of stars, watching you fall apart underneath him is the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Both my parents actually suffer from HORRID emotional dysregulation and are prone to snapping and going into rages. My sister is the same way tbh. I am now realizing this is why they are constantly baffled by the question of whether or not I am mad at them.

I don't have external meltdowns.

I could. I don't let it happen.

I keep my rage on the inside and stay pretty quiet about it. It's just as strong as theirs [physically shaking nose bleed from high blood pressure kind of bad], but like as a kid I saw how terrifying it was to be around [dad breaking dishes, mom putting our lawn chairs into walls] and I just internalized that I wasn't going to wear that anger on the outside.

So my mother genuinely cannot tell if I am just being quiet or if I am silently hearing the dial-up noises of pure rage. This has lead her to both making strong and confident statements like "You are a pacifist who would never hurt a fly U.U" but also acting like I am secretly dangerous maybe... It's because she has never seen me snap.

She knows what her temper is like [throwing chairs through walls], she knows what my father's temper is like [pick up child and toss out door], and she can tell I am being tested, but she doesn't know what happens when I snap or where that breaking point is.

Her -perhaps unhinged- solution to this, my whole life, has been to do things that should obviously enrage me or shut me down completely, like ignoring important boundaries, repeatedly, punishing me for expressing emotions or needs at all, etc... And then to constantly ask me if I am angry with her when I get too quiet [right after near directly telling me to shut up].

It has occurred to me now, they have never once seen me lose my temper, so they literally just can't tell if I am angry at them. My sister is easy, my mother fights and screams with my sister constantly, my mother understands this. My mother doesn't have any grasp of feelings or boundaries that are not screamed at her [apparently, and I fear my sister is the same way]. Her and my sister are close despite constant fucking fighting because they understand each other.

They are trying to get me to engage the same way and it is not working. I realize now that this has been hard for them.

I was so successfully taught to suppress my emotions, by being punished for any outburst, that rage quiet looks the same as any other kind of quiet from the outside. To them anyway.

I did tell her. For the record. I used my words. I did tell her very calmly that my response to rage, in order to avoid doing the things that terrified me as a child, was to simply leave [the autistic urge to GTFO]. When a situation or person causes too much of the dial-up rage noise, I simply extract myself from that situation, up to and including never speaking to a person again. I explained this calmly. I explained it calmly 100 times and I explained that I explain myself calmly as my rage response 1-5 [also pretty much every other negative emotion tbh], and I told her that what came next was me simply opting out and fucking off. I told her this. I couldn't understand why she never took me seriously, or why she never fucking understood.

I couldn't understand what made her like this.

But it's the same problem I have with everyone else multiplied by a factor of 10.

If I am explaining myself calmly, they can't understand that it's actually serious or that I am actually upset. ESPECIALLY because they read me as "female" and women "aren't that rational" so if I am not screaming and crying about something, which I never do, people assume I can't be upset and it isn't serious.

And then after having my boundaries ignored too many times despite having calmly explained how and why it's a problem [shaking inside or not]... I leave. I leave and everyone gets upset like this is unexpected behaviour, even though I told them 50 times that is how I would respond if they kept doing *the thing.*

And for neurotypical people especially, they are expecting there to be a disconnect between what someone says they need or feel and what their actually boundaries and feelings are, and they expect the latter to be demonstrated with emotions. Telling them bluntly you do not function that way somehow never helps?

My mother isn't just looking for normal yelling or a few tears to know I am serious, whether or not I do those either [I don't], she's looking for an explosion to know there's a problem at all.

Fucked if I know how she proceeds through life this way in general or if this is just her expectation of her own kids???

And I couldn't get why my mother couldn't read my emotions and didn't seem to think I have any. It's because she's testing for the rage limit to see where my 'actual' limit is instead of taking my word for it. Never the fuck mind that she could simply *not* test at my boundaries instead of letting me have them. Separate issue.

I couldn't figure out what made her *like this*

She's expecting me to throw a giant meltdown violent tantrum at people when I have 'actually' had enough. Maybe she got away with those being like 5'4" in another time, but I am the size of the average man, I do not get to have giant screaming rages, whether or not people perceive me consciously as a woman, and least of all because a lot of people -at least unconsciously- read me as 'masculine' or at least always "they guy" of the situation compared to all other women and some men [bigger stronger and more rational, more able to just absorb the damage and let it go so the less rational screaming/crying one doesn't have to be dealt with]. Even if it was in me to be willing to terrify people [usually never], there are such limited instances where it wouldn't just blow back on me. Potentially very dangerously.

I am going to be the quiet calm one. You are going to have to let me use my words, bitch.

So she kept ignoring my boundaries until I had to cut her out of my life, and she probably doesn't understand and probably thinks it feels sudden -after 36 long years of bullshit- abrupt and unfair.

But I told her hundreds of times.

I probably should have just screamed at her.

[amiharana]

ok I was reading thru your tattoo/flower shop au and I had to share the brainrot.

I hc revali as indigenous (particularly great plains native american) and oh man, what if at some point he very hesitantly brings up with link that he wants to get facial tattoos or something similar that's significant to him but he's nervous?? And Link goes out of his way to learn traditional stick-n-poke techniques so he can be the one to give revali his tattoos?? And it's like super sweet and meaningful for them both and Link feels honored that revali trusts him enough to ask? (and also revali is scared shitless and Link has to stop several times so he doesnt mess up and hurt revali more than it typically would)

like what if though???

ahem (taps mic) Hello can anyone hear me. i haven't written a tumblr ask in ages i feel ancient

first of all, i'm glad to hear that you still think of my tattoo/flower shop au haha it's been way over a year now since i wrote it. i still very much appreciate everyone who drew art for it 🫶 i've had a few passing thoughts about writing it into an actual proper multi-chaptered fic but i've been busy wrestling with school, work, and my personal demons for the past year that it's been quite difficult to even think about writing anything. thank you to anyone who's still here; i appreciate you a lot ���

i love the hc of revali as indigenous and i think it really fits in with the presence of the rito people as we're introduced to in the games, but i won't touch on that too much since i'm not indigenous/well-versed in indigenous culture. you know what i Am well-versed in though? these gay ass mfs

i had to reread my own au post for this Lord it's been too long, i wrote back then that i thought of revali as someone who isn't too fond of tattoos and doesn't have a great pain tolerance for them, and i still believe in that LOL. mixing that in with a hc where revali is indigenous is quite interesting, because i would assume that tattoos are an important/frequently appearing aspect of the culture? revali's parents have also passed in this au and he's alone with no family running the shop, so perhaps revali was estranged from his indigenous culture while growing up/at some point and became interested in trying to connect with it as an adult. maybe he came across the topic of traditional tattoos and after researching about it, he became interested in getting one but again because of his low pain tolerance, he thought it probably may never happen. well...

during one of their shared lunch breaks perhaps at a new cafe that's opened up on tabantha street, revali absentmindedly mentions his family and the tattoos. link immediately looks up at him from his food, those lovely blue eyes searching his face curiously.

"traditional tattoos?" he says, cocking his head at revali. revali blinks. well, of course link would have interest in the topic since he was a fellow tattoo artist himself, but the way he was looking at revali was...

"well yes," revali continues. "i suppose i haven't really talked to you much about myself personally, have i? i'm an indigenous hyrulean and my blood is descended from the rito tribe, but i'm not well-versed in my own culture." he mumbles the last few words, looking down at his coffee. "my parents and i lived on reservation land until i was 5 and then we moved away to a bigger city for work. there weren't many other rito there and so i didn't grow up with a lot of other indigenous folk. i don't know much about my family or my culture because of it, and even after my parents passed, it's never come up until now." revali glances back at link, who is now watching him with rapt attention. he looks away again, his cheeks beginning to warm. "i thought it would be nice to connect with my culture by getting a traditional tattoo of the rito tribe, perhaps something small so i can handle it. though, i wouldn't be able to travel to the reservation to find a traditional tattooist because of the shop and neither do i know of any tattoo artists nearby that could do it..."

"i'll do it," link says suddenly. revali looks at him again and blinks. link's eyes are bright and wide, blazing with determination. he's still holding his sandwich in his hands.

"i-i couldn't ask that of you," revali says, heart skipping a beat. "you'd likely have to learn an entire new and unfamiliar technique, and—"

"i'll do it," link insists, placing the sandwich down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. his eyes are still trained on revali, just as insistent as his mouth is. revali swallows.

"use a napkin, please," he mutters, passing link one. the blond takes it and grins at him. "if it's something that you greatly desire to do... i will assist you in offering as much information as i can. i... appreciate it, link." i appreciate you, he thinks but the words get stuck in his throat. link's smile only grows.

thinking about link who researches rito tribal tattoos for a few weeks and reporting and discussing his findings with revali during their mon/wed lunch breaks. thinking about link who spends countless nights staying up compiling everything he finds into a document, the different types of tribal tattoos and their meanings, researching the materials and tools needed for traditional tattoos, sketching different tribal symbols endlessly for the perfect one for revali in between tattoo sessions with other clients, thinking about where on revali's body it would go, thinking about revali's warm skin under his hands... let's keep it PG link 🫡

the day finally arrives when link introduces the tattoo sketches to revali. link probably shows him a few ideas of a small rito symbol on his fingers, wrist, deltoid, ankle, and even ribs. HOWEVER. i really like the idea of the winged rito symbol across the back of revali's shoulders to represent his wings in canon? so what if. link who sketched a drawing of revali's back muscles with the winged rito symbol and he doesn't mean to show it to revali since it's a much bigger tattoo than revali wanted, but revali happens upon it anyway while scrolling through the sketches on link's ipad.

"what's this one?" revali says pointing at it.

link glances over at the screen and flushes. "oh, i didn't mean for you to see this one," he murmurs. he uses two fingers to zoom in on the image slightly. "i just had an idea for this particular symbol, so i sketched it out because i thought it'd look nice. i know you wanted a smaller one, so we can just focus on the first sketches—"

"it's beautiful," revali cuts him off, voice soft and still looking at the winged sketch. "how much do back tattoos hurt?" and link is jaw dropped, staring at him with hearts in his eyes LMFAOOOOOOOO

thinking about link who actually reaches out to a traditional tattooist from revali's tribe and asks if he can mentor link so he can learn their technique??? maybe link and revali who end up traveling to the reservation together so revali can visit and link can learn directly from the tattooist??? revalink road trip and sharing a bed trope??? link would probably only take a week tops to learn the technique since he's like a prodigal artist and the tattooist is impressed. also revali getting to spend time with and learn more about his culture from others from the tribe who live there 🥺

if revali does get the winged rito symbol tattoo on his back, he probably wouldn't get it as a solid color, maybe link would incorporate more tribal lineart into it like the totk zonai imagery? i've never gotten a tattoo so i don't know if back tattoos or the style of solid color tattoos would hurt, but regardless, link would make revali as comfortable as he can throughout all the sessions 🥺🥺🥺

originally when i read this ask and you mentioned facial tattoos, i thought about link gently holding revali's jaw between his pointer finger and thumb to readjust the positioning of his face in the midst of tattooing him, and revali sucking in a breath at the contact WAHHHH but with the direction i took with this post, i also thought about link laying a flat palm between revali's shoulder muscles, feeling the warmth of his skin and tracing his shoulder blades with a featherlight touch and revali getting flustered but muttering, "are you going to keep me in suspense?"

link traces a line down revali's spine. "are you sure you want to get this tattoo?" he murmurs. "we can still do the smaller ones instead if you want. i know how you feel about it, with your pain tolerance and all."

revali snorts, trying to mask his nervousness. "i've already made up my mind. it's a beautiful piece that you put a lot of thought into and i'm not backing out now. besides..." revali's voice lowers into a mumble. "i wouldn't have gone through with it if it was anyone else. i trust you."

link's cheeks pinked in the sweet way they do when revali catches him off-guard, but he can't take it back. he doesn't want to take it back, because it's true; revali trusts link for this with everything he has.

hhh . AHHHH . i just think. yeagh.