#fractured chains

[sleepylink]

Ah yes, There is a reason The Hero of time wears that Mask of Truth.

And Shadow did nothing wrong, he just wanted to find Four, and ended up finding a group of heroes he could travel with (Ya know, safety in numbers!)

This is from my "Fractured Chains" Link crossover series idea I had.

Link to Fractured Chains original post

Idk just thought it would be fun!

[fangsforhire]

NEW ( SELECTIVE ) VERSE TAGS;

Extremely triggering verses & if you know some of them, you know ! ;)

[childotkw]

My heart is nearly pounding for Fractured Hearts and if I die before reading that book I'll have to curse my life.

Babe if I die before finishing it I'll be so freaking mad 😂 someone will have to resurrect me if it happens

[belovedblabber]

Okay but my bg3 girl is so pretty tho. I only get to play in little bursts because my lovely friend is streaming it for me and letting me play via him because I have nothing that can run it

Her name is Leonessa (she likes going be Leo) and she's a disowned noble and a warlock and a disaster and she is making so many bad choices but hey who can blame her?

[elleven-news]

Trump’s Tariffs Are Raising Costs for One of His Favorite Industries: Oil

President Trump’s promise during last year’s election to make it far easier to drill for oil and gas thrilled energy executives who believed his policies would lower their costs and help them make a lot more money. Those hopes are now fading. Thanks to Mr. Trump’s tariffs, the oil and gas industry is contending with rising prices for essential materials like steel pipes used to line new…

[h34vybottom]

Milla

[somewhereincairparavel]

Whenever I think of Camp Jupiter.. I just get so.. mad. Knowing that even after 11 years of Jason's sheer service, even after the fact that he dedicated his whole life to Rome at the age of 2, a ripe CHILD, a BABY, nobody even cared to look for him even 6 months after his disappearance..??

Nobody went "I miss Jason!" Like everyone did in Camp half blood for Percy, even the hunters of Artemis went out of their way to look for him. Jason's "friends" Dakota or Gwendolyn never spared a glance at his direction, his friendship with Reyna was fractured because of communication issues, etc.

Camp Jupiter was, realistically NOTHING without Jason (and Reyna duh) yet they have the audacity to neglect him.

And then they cheaply "made up" for it by giving him some grand state funeral. What's the point? His body was wrapped in an expensive silk, but his soul left that world feeling useless and unwanted. An expensive fancy funeral isnt going to change that.

His funeral was dark and empty, because not a single one of his Greek friends could make it.

Jason Grace was doomed to be chained to the clutches of the soulless camp of Rome till the very end. Like Michael Varus said "born a roman, die a roman"

Camp Jupiter was more or less a dystopian society covered up with beautiful architecture. Like shiny fake gold that wears off its glow.

[kyoukorpse]

finished designing Jakub's TOWW (ive been calling her Melinoe) and mapped out his scars/gave him more piercings. plus bonus art i did of them while i was mulling over their relationship togetherrrr

lore drop below !!!!!

im still mulling over some details but essentially Melinoe was locked up in her own purgatory by her siblings for the fact that she was ready to impede any progress they wiling to pursue to ensure they did not lose faith from their followers and stayed relevant in a continuously shifting and changing world. she wanted things to stay the same, selfishly, knowing that she would never have to worry about her place in the world as she was always a constant.

when Jakub finds her she's willing to give his life back purely for the fact she did not anticipate such a fate would befall his kind by the hands of her paranoid siblings. She thought better of them, but clearly could see now that they had been slowly losing their minds. She offered to work with him and gave him her crown to use so long as he agreed to help her as well, willing to work together.

Jakub agreed simply for the gain of such power and when he did she simply asked that he never relay to her any details of what he might have to do to relinquish controls of her chains from her siblings. He would never truly honor this request, as he wanted to see her squirm. wanted to see if he could make a long standing god flinch.

Their relationship remained a tense one, she had no ill will towards Jakub and took pity on him because in the end she knew she'd need to ask more from him to truly be free, and he saw her as foolish and a just another fracturing remnant of the old faith he wanted to see truly wiped out of existence. He had always desired to simply kill off her siblings and then her as well. He had no desire to continue working with her once the crown was truly his to claim.

in the end she told him if she were to be free she'd need more from him and his followers, and he declined. She did not fight him out of anger or the feeling of betrayal, but what she finally saw as self defense, knowing full well that Jakub had no intention of truly helping her. He brought her down to her knees and ended her life, fully satisfied that he was doing what was right in his pursuit of ridding the world of the old faith and pursuing his own godhood in the wake of a new era.

[opencommunion]

"The story of  'John Doe 1' of the Democratic Republic of the Congo is tucked in a lawsuit filed five years ago against several U.S. tech companies, including Tesla, the world’s largest electric vehicle producer. In a country where the earth hides its treasures beneath its surface, those who chip away at its bounty pay an unfair price. As a pre-teen, his family could no longer afford to pay his $6 monthly school fee, leaving him with one option: a life working underground in a tunnel, digging for cobalt rocks.  But soon after he began working for roughly two U.S. dollars per day, the child was buried alive under the rubble of a collapsed mine tunnel. His body was never recovered. 

The nation, fractured by war, disease, and famine, has seen more than 6 million people die since the mid-1990s, making the conflict the deadliest since World War II. But, in recent years, the death and destruction have been aided by the growing number of electric vehicles humming down American streets. In 2022, the U.S., the world’s third-largest importer of cobalt, spent nearly $525 million on the mineral, much of which came from the Congo.

As America’s dependence on the Congo has grown, Black-led labor and environmental organizers here in the U.S. have worked to build a transnational solidarity movement. Activists also say that the inequities faced in the Congo relate to those that Black Americans experience. And thanks in part to social media, the desire to better understand what’s happening in the Congo has grown in the past 10 years. In some ways, the Black Lives Matter movement first took root in the Congo after the uprising in Ferguson in 2014, advocates say. And since the murder of George Floyd and the outrage over the Gaza war, there has been an uptick in Congolese and Black American groups working on solidarity campaigns.

Throughout it all, the inequities faced by Congolese people and Black Americans show how the supply chain highlights similar patterns of exploitation and disenfranchisement. ... While the American South has picked up about two-thirds of the electric vehicle production jobs, Black workers there are more likely to work in non-unionized warehouses, receiving less pay and protections. The White House has also failed to share data that definitively proves whether Black workers are receiving these jobs, rather than them just being placed near Black communities. 'Automakers are moving their EV manufacturing and operations to the South in hopes of exploiting low labor costs and making higher profits,' explained Yterenickia Bell, an at-large council member in Clarkston, Georgia, last year. While Georgia has been targeted for investment by the Biden administration, workers are 'refusing to stand idly by and let them repeat a cycle that harms Black communities and working families.'

... Of the 255,000 Congolese mining for cobalt, 40,000 are children. They are not only exposed to physical threats but environmental ones. Cobalt mining pollutes critical water sources, plus the air and land. It is linked to respiratory illnesses, food insecurity, and violence. Still, in March, a U.S. court ruled on the case, finding that American companies could not be held liable for child labor in the Congo, even as they helped intensify the prevalence. ... Recently, the push for mining in the Congo has reached new heights because of a rift in China-U.S. relations regarding EV production. Earlier this month, the Biden administration issued a 100% tariff on Chinese-produced EVs to deter their purchase in the U.S. Currently, China owns about 80% of the legal mines in the Congo, but tens of thousands of Congolese work in 'artisanal' mines outside these facilities, where there are no rules or regulations, and where the U.S. gets much of its cobalt imports.  'Cobalt mining is the slave farm perfected,' wrote Siddharth Kara last year in the award-winning investigative book Cobalt Red: How The Blood of the Congo Powers Our Lives. 'It is a system of absolute exploitation for absolute profit.' While it is the world’s richest country in terms of wealth from natural resources, Congo is among the poorest in terms of life outcomes. Of the 201 countries recognized by the World Bank Group, it has the 191st lowest life expectancy."

[m1dn1ght-r0t]

Eyes Wrapped in Wool

Yandere! (ex) husband x amnesiac! fem reader

TW: manipulation, toxic/abusive behavior, mentions of (potential) forced imprisonment, coercion A/N: pretty sure amnesia doesn't work this way (i'm no medical professional) but pls suspend disbelief for the sake of the plot ahahah

Your husband never expected things to turn out this way. But by some stroke of luck—or perhaps divine intervention—you ended up bed-ridden in the ICU, suffering from multiple bone fractures and a terrible, oh-so-terrible, traumatic brain injury. Just last week you were talking his ear off about how you've had enough. How you were done with him controlling what you could wear or who you could see, his suffocating clinginess that devolved into explosive rages when you spent time focusing on work or with friends instead of with him, the negging, the snooping, the smashed plates... Jesus Christ. You just never knew when to shut the fuck up, did you? At some point he had stopped listening. Chalked off your dramatic tirade as nothing more than you acting up because of your period—merely white noise. How many times have you guys had this same broken record conversation? Yeah, he knew this marriage wasn't smooth-sailing. If it were, you'd be less opinionated, less bitchy, more pliant, more dutiful. But what relationship was ever perfect? So, he waited for you to run out of steam, as you inevitably do, before adding salt to the wound:

“You know baby, if you weren’t parading around in those slutty clothes of yours and acted your grown age for once, I wouldn’t be behaving that way.”

The scrunch of disbelief mixed with disgust on your face only spurred him to double down. “And maybe if you actually committed to this marriage like a devoted wife would, rather than prioritize your career and practically everyone over me—your husband, need I remind you—then we wouldn’t be having these issues. Ever considered that, hm?” He purposely dragged out his words, a patronizing lilt to his tone, in hopes of reminding that thick, dumb skull of yours that he always knew best.

It wasn't until you had thrusted the divorce papers in his face that he grew silent, the severity of the situation beginning to creep in. ...What? You couldn't actually be serious... right? This was just some lover's spat. A temporary blip that'd be smoothed over with a few intentionally placed saccharine words and hot make-up sex. Like always. So why the fucking theatrics? Are you really gonna be a bitch about this and d— When you slammed the front door shut with your packed bags in tow, leaving him to stew in your parting words—that you deserved better, so much better than him, and that if he didn't sign the papers, he'd be hearing from your lawyer—did the gravity of it all finally sink in. By the end of the week, your voicemail was battered by his countless furious messages. Are you done being a flighty little piece of shit, huh? What the fuck do you think you're doing? I swear to god, baby, I'm gonna drag your ass back here. And if I have to lock you in some basement and chain your hands and legs so you'd never think to leave me again, then so fucking be it. Divorce? Yeah right. Over my dead fucking body. Then came an unknown call. It was like whiplash, really, to first hear that you had been involved in a major car crash, and then, upon rushing to the hospital at neck-breaking speed— "I'm afraid she has retrograde amnesia", the doctor solemnly informed him. He could cry. Oh, he could fucking cry.

On the outside, anyone could see how distraught he was, his hands trembling as he processed the diagnosis, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Poor husband that he was, having almost lost his beloved wife in a freak accident, he now had to deal with the news that she didn't remember who he was. Inside, however, raged a war he couldn't reconcile: what was harder? Holding back the tears, or pretending those very tears were out of sadness rather than pure, unbridled joy? Because what this neatly packaged situation had presented him with was a do-over, a chance to mend the broken marriage teetering on the cusp of divorce. And like hell he's about to let you throw away a three-year connection like some ungrateful cunt when he loves you so, very much.

~

"Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?"

As he walks up beside your hospital bed, he can't help but revel at how vulnerable you look. The slight furrow in your brows hinting at your confusion, the way you curl in on yourself as if to protect yourself from who is no doubt a complete stranger in your eyes, and your meek "Who are you?"—a far cry from the usual feisty, snarky attitude you used to dish out.

But perhaps most rewarding of all is the tentative gaze you offer him, eyes filled with a sort of curious glimmer, free from the hostility, disappointment, and hurt you'd flashed his way. You didn't look at him with hate. You simply want to know who he is.

Oh, aren't you precious? He'll gladly feed you his carefully spun narrative until you're full of nothing but adoring love for him—the embers of your thoughts about divorce and leaving him snuffed out for good.

"I know how confusing all of this must be for you. Take all the time you need. I'll be right here with you, as your husband, helping you fill the gaps, okay baby?" He delivers this with as much patience as he can muster, softening the edges of his words to avoid spooking you. But you're not soothed. If anything, you're more overwhelmed than ever. "M-my husband?" You echo, tasting the foreign word, sticky like warm toffee on your tongue.

"And...and my family? Where are they?" Your disorientation is a sight for sore eyes; how badly he wants to devour you right now. “Dead,” he intones, a script he’d been desperate to act out ever since you said your vows. The jarring news pulls a barely audible whimper from you, your eyes widening a fraction.

Shit. Too cold. Too careless.

His expression softens, the corners of his mouth tugging downward in a facsimile of sorrow as he injects a note of pity into his voice. “They died when you were very young, you see. I’m sorry.” He’s really not.

"What…? How could that be? So my p-parents, they're both—" Your breath hitches, tears welling at the corner of your eyes.

At that, he gently grabs your bandaged arm, wanting to comfort you. But when you flinch slightly, he has to resist the urge to snap at you—Oh, cry me a river. Who the fuck cares?? I'm right here, aren't I? I'm right here, damnnit, so look at me!

Instead, he tempers the resentment that's still fresh in his heart after the divorce stunt you'd pulled by reminding himself that he's supposed to be your kind and gentle partner.

So he settles for cradling your hand in both of his like it's fine china, grazing his lips over your fingertips. "But you have me, sweetheart. And I'm not going anywhere."

He half expects you to question his story—it wasn’t very convincing, even to his own ears—prepared to be barraged by your endless streams of “No, you’re wrong!”, “I don’t believe you!” or some other similar outburst.

But when all you do is gaze up at him with cinched brows, seeking reassurance, blinking at him so sweetly with your hand still snugly warmed in his, he pauses. That’s it? No suspicion, no skepticism, no outburst? Hah! He has to physically restrain himself from snorting because how fucking easy can this get?

Maybe the collision had completely scrambled your brains, rewired you to be more stupid, a little slower—exactly how he likes you.

"You trust me, right?"

And when he feels that subtle twitch of your fingers—what he gathers is your attempt at squeezing his hand back for confirmation—accompanied by the sight of your small, almost shy nod, he breaks out into a giddy smile at how utterly adorable you’re being.

Fuck, it’s hard not to already feel high off these micro-doses of innocence and receptiveness from you. Emboldened by your intoxicatingly sweet naivety, he dares to be a little greedier, creeping to perch on the edge of your bed, his hand now moving to cup your cheek.

“You have no idea how worried sick I was when I got the call. I thought you had…” He trails off, his implication clear. His face is mere inches from yours now, breaths as featherlight as his fingertips mapping every divot on your face.

“I love you.” He drags his thumb across your bottom lip, the act agonizingly slow. “So, so, so much.” Each whisper spills out heavier than the last, mirroring the increasing pressure of his thumb—your lip almost bruising from how hard he’s pinching them.

How long has it been? He can’t remember the last time he felt the warmth of your touch, your skin… eons too long without your pillowy lips pressed against his has left him completely starved.

“You can’t leave me…” A murmur too quiet to pick up. His gaze, now half-lidded, drifts downward in a drunken daze. “My wife. My good little wife. You love me too, right?”

Without warning, he leans in to close the minuscule gap.

And it’s all too fast and soon because you can feel the suffocating heat of his proximity, the chilling shared breath floating between the tight space. It’s all too much. So, in the last second, you hesitate, pulled from your stupor as you turn your head away.

But he’s not having it. Not when you’re already in the palm of his hand and he’s so fucking close. When he can already taste the opportunity to finally take out the trash and parasites leeching off you, to call up that godforsaken shithole you call a stable, steady-paying job and quit on your behalf, to have you all to himself—a blank slate to knock up with several kids and mold into the perfect little housewife he's always wanted you to be. God, he's already hard at the thought.

Grabbing your jaw firmly, he jerks your face back towards him, thumb roughly wedging between your lips and prying your mouth open.

“Baby.” The endearment spills out, sharp and cold, stripped of any warmth it might've once held.

His gentle veneer cracks ever so slightly, and for the briefest moment, you see something else. A flicker beneath the mask—raw, ugly, messy. It gnaws at the edges of your mind, dredging up something you can’t quite grasp. A memory?

“Gimme a small kiss, hmm?” Despite the smile on his face, there is no kindness to it. Just a twisted caricature warning you that you shouldn’t push further.

All of a sudden you feel like you can’t breathe, weighed down by the unsettling intensity of his stare. The man in front of you—the one claiming he's your husband and calling you “baby,” the one touching you—feels wrong. He’s a stranger, you remind yourself. An almost involuntary shiver runs down your spine, like your body remembers something your mind refuses to.

At this point, your husband has caught on to your rather obvious spiralling. He’s not an idiot—he can see your doubt giving way to panic. He contemplates smoothing things over by playing nice, but the selfish part of him ultimately wins.

He squeezes your jaw, nails biting into your skin.

“Kiss me.”

It isn’t a request this time.

[sleepylink]

Fracture Chains

I'm having fun thinking of my own Zelda Link crossover.

The First Hero from the Skyward Sword Manga is there, he is very tired and hates working with kids. (About 27) (Hiding - Feelings (He does care, he just worries about kids in battle, its the stress))

The Hero of Time is still a kid but when he touches the Master Sword he'll age 7 years, then when he puts it down he goes back to normal. (About 14 turns 21) (Hiding - Fear) (Can Time Travel)

The Hero of the Sky shows up sometimes, he is very tired and needs a nap. When he needs to work on something he gets down to business, but is very tired otherwise. (About 24) (Hiding - Nature (Hiding who he really is, he's running around doing everything, that's why we only see him every once in a while, he's doing things for everyone at once)) (Can Time Travel)

The Hero of Four, has been split and lost through time, and guess who's traveling with the group? Shadow, Pretending to be Vio. He is very stressed and 100% believes he will be killed if they find out. (ppl who know just by looking, Spirits, Hyrule, Legend, Twilight) (15) (Hiding - Identity)

The Hero of Spirits has taken his title a little too seriously, and is floating about trying to find where he left his body... Time, Shadow, Twilight and Hyrule are the only ones who know he's following them at the beginning. (13) (Hiding - Existence)

The Hero of Hyrule is currently pretending he's actually "Just a traveling Fairy" and hanging out with the chain. The blood curse was getting too much for him, so he decided to hide with the fairies. (17) (Hiding - Identity)

The Hero of Legend has recently awoken from Koholint and is still VERY sad about Marin. He's trying to find something to get his mind off of things, and teaming up with others is exactly that. He is also trying to hide the fact he's still injured from the ship wreck- (17) (Hiding - Injury and Sadness) (Can Time Travel)

The Hero of the Minish, Still learning how to become a blacksmith, took a bit of a detour to help everyone out, but he mostly stays home. (11) (Hiding - Abilities)

The Hero of the Wild, saw things were broken, and was trying to fix things, but somehow ended up here, not sure why, but he's working on it! (123 (23)) (Hiding - Confusion)

The Hero of Twilight, Loves Animals, Loves kids, is just vibing tbh, Ignore that stressful face, he's fine! Whats over there? OH LOOK A WOLF HAHA- (18) (Hiding - Stress) The Hero of the Wind, Currently founding a kingdom- Does help out the group, and joins them for a bit. (19) (Hiding - Status)

The Hero of Warriors Currently trying to fix the timeline AGAIN- Very upset he has to fix things again... (Might have been his fault thought) (26) (Hiding - Guilt) (Can Time Travel)

The Hero of World, working with Ravio to try and find out what happened to the world. Sheerow is also missing. These two stick together, and they don't stay with the chain very often. (15) (Hiding - Identity) (Can world hop)

---

Not all of them will be together at a time, The one's who can travel through time are each leading a group, and that group somewhat sticks together. Also, some just stay home, they are doing stuff atm.

Group 1 - First, Time, Shadow, Hyrule, Spirits

Group 2 - Warriors, Wild, Twilight, Wind and Legend

Group 3 - Sky

Group 4 - Worlds and Ravio

Group 5 - Minish (Stays home, lil guy has school)

These groups WILL Shuffle a few times.

---

But yeah, everyone is hiding something!

Also, all four colors of Four would show up at some point, again, Shadow is searching for them!

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

WHUMP ALPHABET

*anything that can be triggering is most likely listed here, skip this post if you think it might upset you*

A is for asystole, amputation, amnesia, asphyxiation, asthma, autopsy, asylum, abandonment, anxiety, abuse, assault, aneurysm, anger, addiction

B is for blood, bruises, blunt force trauma, burns, bite marks, blisters, betrayal, beating, blindfolding, bondage, brainwashing

C is for cannibalism, cuts, convulsion, concussion, cardiac arrest, corpse, chains, cult, carnage, craniotomy, craniectomy, chest compression, choking, coughing up blood

D is for delirium, dehydration, disfigurement, dismemberment, demonic possession, death, dehumanization, degradation, depression, disease, drowning, distress, despair, dizziness, drug withdrawal

E is for exsanguination, electrical injuries, electroconvulsive therapy, electrocution, execution, exhaustion, eating disorders, emergency room

F is for fever, flu, fatality, flat-lining, fractured bones, fear, fatigue, force-feeding, flagellation, flogging

G is for garroting, gunshot wounds, grief, gallows, guillotine, guilt, gash, gag

H is for hypothermia, heatstroke, hallucination, hyperventilation, hemorrhage, handcuffing, hospital, hanging, hatred, hate

I is for intubation, infection, injuries, injection, illness, internal bleeding, intravenous therapy, insomnia, illusion, innards

J is for jealousy, jugular veins

K is for killing, kidnapping, knife

L is for laceration, lobotomy, ligature marks, lack of oxygen, loss of consciousness, lies, living weapon, locking up

M is for morgue, miscommunication, murder, manslaughter, massacre, mourning, miscarriage, masochism, mistreatment, manipulation, misery, mental illness, malnutrition

N is for nightmares, nausea, necrophilia, necrotizing fasciitis, necrosis

O is for outbreaks, obeying, operating theater

P is for physical restraints, pain, punishment, poison, panic attack, paralysis, PTSD, penetration, pierced lung

Q is for quadriceps tendon rupture, quadriparesis, Quebec platelet disorder

R is for ruptured blood vessels, respiratory failure, rabies, rape, rope, resentment, ritual

S is for schadenfreude, strangulation, starvations, shock collar, shock therapy, straightjacket, sadism, scapegoat, shame, sacrifice, sadness, sorrow, slaughter, suicide, self-harm, self-hatred, self-destruction, stabbing, slavery, seizures, stress, slash, suffering, surrendering, somnophilia, shackles, sepsis, surgery

T is for torture, trauma, tears, toxicity, trust issues, traps, tying up

U is for urinary tract infection, unresponsive, unconsciousness

V is for violence, vomiting, viruses, venom

W is for wounds, weeping, waterboarding, weakness, whipping, whimpering

X is for x-ray

Y is for yellow fever, yelling, yelping

Z is for zombie apocalypse

[nina-ya]

you get hurt and luffy's mind flashes back to a certain moment in marineford

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

All Luffy could feel was cold, a numbing frost that clawed its way into his very bones, turning his entire being into ice.

In the blink of an eye you were standing strong fighting alongside him, and the next, you were stumbling towards him, hands clutching at your abdomen, fingers trembling as they tried- and failed- to dam the blood blooming between your fingers like cursed roses.

Blood.  So much blood.  Too much blood. 

The color was obscene, staining his world in crimson streaks that ran like rivers of guilt. His body froze, rigid as the shadow of death stretched its skeletal hand over his heart and ripped open the scar that lay there. And then his mind fractured. The present unraveled, dragging him back to that battlefield of loss, to the smoke-filled air and the weight of Ace in his arms. 

It was happening again. 

His trembling hands grasped at you, desperate to pull him out of the impending storm, but his grip was clumsy and weak against the memories that swallowed him whole. He couldn’t see you anymore- only Ace. Ace’s blood. Ace’s voice whispering final words. Ace’s fading heartbeat slipping through his fingers like grains of sand that he couldn’t hold onto. 

You saw it in his eyes; wide and glassy as if gazing into the abyss. He wasn’t there. Not with you. His soul had been dragged backward, shackled into a nightmare that he couldn’t escape. The terror etched into his features wasn’t for you. It was for someone he had already lost. 

“Luffy,” you whispered, voice cracking with pain. He didn’t respond, the sound lost to the screaming silence in his mind. “Luffy!” you tried again, louder this time, each word a lifeline thrown desperately in hopes of helping you both. 

Desperation clawed at you, drowning out whatever else you were feeling at that moment. Your hand, slicked with your own blood, reached for his face. The crimson smeared across his cheek was a cruel mimicry of the mark of a battle that neither of you had won. Your fingers pressed against his skin, forcing his gaze to meet yours and you saw the distant agony in his eyes- the ghosts of a past he couldn’t let go of. 

“This isn’t the same,” you rasped, the words tearing from your throat like shards of glass. “The pain in your chest made it hard to focus, but you pushed forward. “I’m still breathing. Luffy, Look at me!” 

For a single excruciating moment, he didn’t. He couldn't. But then your voice cut through the haze, the pain-laden scream of his name shattering the chains of memories past. His eyes flickered, frantic and wild as the present came rushing back. 

You. 

His chest heaved with a desperate breath as he clung to you, trembling hands pressing against the wound in a distressed attempt to hold you together. Blood seeped between his fingers, the heat of it searing his skin as though the very weight of your life was right beneath his fingertips. Tears began to fall, hot and unstoppable, carving rivers down his cheeks and landing on your face in tremoring droplets.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, his voice cracking under the weight of dozens of emotions attacking him on all fronts. “I’m so sorry. I won’t let you go. Please, I can’t lose you too.”

Each word was a plea filled with raw guilt and fear. His body trembled with each sob, the sound hurting you more than any physical wound could ever. 

You wanted to comfort him. To tell him it wasn’t his fault, but the pain was dragging you into a haze of blurred edges and throbbing fire. Your eyes fluttered shut for just a moment, but even in that haze, you knew- despite the agony in his heart, he would never let you go. 

Luffy couldn’t save Ace. But this time, he would save you.

[fangdokja]

"I burned their world for daring to look at you— imagine what I’d do if you tried to leave."

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Emperor x Reader

♡ Headcanons. #1

♡ Word Count. 859

Your silence will teach you loyalty.

His voice resonates through the throne room like a hammer against steel—unyielding, inescapable. You flinch at the sharpness of his tone, though no one dares to meet your eyes. The air shifts with his unspoken command. Chains, deceptively delicate yet unrelentingly cruel, wind around your wrists as you’re dragged toward him. They clink like a funeral bell, heralding your fate.

A single nod from him seals your fate—chains of silver, intricate but cruel, bite into your wrists as you’re dragged to his side.

“You are mine,” he murmurs, his breath a phantom tracing your ear. The words latch onto you, branding your skin and soul with their weight.

Defiance, he knows, is only temporary.

He savors every crack in your resistance. A predator by instinct and a conqueror by blood, he strips you bare of your defenses with a glance. His golden eyes, aflame with possession, hold you captive. His scarred hands grip your jaw, tilting your face until his gaze becomes all you know.

“Say it,” he demands, voice low but edged with menace. “Say who you belong to.”

When you hesitate, his grip tightens, sending a jolt through your core. The whisper that follows chills you. “Don’t worry, dove. You’ll scream it eventually.”

He builds his empire with the blood of dissent.

The scent of war never leaves him. Iron and death cling to his crimson-stained cape as it sweeps across the marble floors. You are displayed before the court like a trophy—a living testament to his dominance. His voice drips with mockery as he addresses the nobles, who laugh with hollow obedience. “This one thought she could defy me,” he announces, amusement laced with cruelty.

When the audience disperses, leaving the hall echoing and empty, his hand circles your throat—not to crush, no. He revels in your pulse quickening beneath his fingers, in the fragile truth of your mortality.

“I could break you so easily,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your skin with unnerving tenderness. “But then, where’s the fun in that?”

Fear is the wine he drinks by the chalice.

Within his chambers, the air is heavy, suffused with him—his presence, his control. The moonlight seeps through stained glass, painting him in fractured colors as he corners you against the ornate bedpost. Each deliberate step crushes any hope of escape.

“Do you fear me because you despise me,” his voice dripping with saccharine malice, lips barely inches from yours, “or because you’ve realized you’ll never escape me?”

Your trembling hands shove weakly against his chest, but he only laughs—a low, wicked sound that curls around your spine. “Struggle harder, little dove. I love it when you make me work for it.”

Your will is his favorite plaything.

He gives you everything but freedom. He smothers you with opulence. Gowns that pool like liquid gold at your feet, jewels heavy enough to weigh you down—his eyes going dark with arousal as he watches you wear them.

They shimmer under his gaze, but it’s you, not the ornaments, that hold his attention. You are his masterpiece, his conquest perfected. A doll under luxurious chains, a living, breathing masterpiece of his tyranny.

One night, his voice slices through the stillness like a blade. “Kneel.”

You hesitate, if only for a heartbeat. It’s long enough.

The slap that follows doesn’t break you—it’s never meant to break you. Instead, it reinforces a lesson, sharp and stinging. He pulls you into his lap after, hand cradling your face as though he hadn’t just hurt you. “Good girls obey without question,” he chides, stroking your hair deceptively gentle. “Shall we try again?”

He would raze worlds to keep you.

The rebellion whispers your name, and the news reaches him like a spark meeting dry tinder. Entire villages are erased in retaliation, his soldiers torching homes and slaughtering innocents. He sits atop his warhorse, impassive as flames devour homes and screams ring out like a hymn to his fury.

“She must learn,” he muses to his general, tone soft but final. “There’s nowhere she can run where I won’t find her.”

Your cries are a symphony, and your screams are his prayers.

Even punishment carries an unsettling intimacy. When you lash out, his arms cage you close, his voice a shiver against your ear. “Hush, my little dove,” he croons, brushing tears from your cheeks. “This hurts me more than it hurts you.” But the glint in his eyes betrays the pleasure he takes in your brokenness.

"Even death wouldn’t save you."

He keeps you in a gilded cage, both figuratively and literally, beautiful as it is impenetrable. The locks are ornate, crafted by the empire’s finest smiths, close to unbreakable. Exhausted, you collapse against the silk cushions of his bed.

He watches you sleep, an unsettling softness overtaking his features as his fingers trail across your cheek.

“If you were to die,” he whispers to the shadows, “I would burn this world to the ground and carve your image into its ashes.”

[bunny-jpeg]

boxers

simon 'ghost' riley

cw: smut/pwp, boxing au, boxer!simon, injury/bruises, protective!simon, size difference, unprotected sex, cowgirl position, gentle sex, simon luvs his missus,

you liked strong men. strong however was a broad definition. thought a man could be strong in a lot of ways, not just physical. strong convictions, strong emotionally, there were many examples.

but when you started seeing simon, you were enthralled by his physical strength. he wasn't some eight pack having, dehydrated mess. he was bulky, which was good for what he did.

punch the living daylights out of other boxers.

wide shoulders, a softness in his stomach, strong arms with one lined with tattoos. not to mention those thighs, he could crush a watermelon with them if you asked nicely (no, he wasn't going to crush your head). the facial scars add a scary look as did those dark eyes of his.

despite it, simon was a total sap.

at least to you, no one else. god forbid johnny or any of the others. but when it was just the two of you, he was a big puppy. you once described him as a huge german shepherd who thought he was a lap dog.

simon simply said, "just be glad i don't wanna sit on your lap, love. i'll break ya." then pulled you to him to give you a kiss on the forehead. he'd never hurt you though, he'd rather take his own life than yours.

and you loved him back, even with his loud snoring, you still adored him. you thought that he was the perfect boyfriend. which was why it hurt so much when he came home late at night with bruises on his face.

"si."

he dropped his bag and let you get in his arms. he kissed the top of your head lovingly. and welcomed your embrace. the man had enough fractures and scars. so to see another shiny bruise only left you feeling sad.

you brought him to the kitchen by his hand and sat him down at the kitchen table. he looked so large in the small space, which really highlighted your size difference.

"c'mon, pretty thing." he said as held out his arms to you.

you looked over your shoulder from the freezer, "give me a second, honey. i need to find the frozen peas."

simon groaned. he wanted to touch his woman. he cursed the universe that the frozen peas were in the back of the freezer. you managed to grab the bag before you turned to your boyfriend.

you sat in his lap and pressed the frozen vegetable to his bruised face, "poor baby." you cooed as you gave the bag to him.

he hissed a little at the feeling of it against the heat of the bruise. you rested your head on top of his and held him close to your chest

"do i need to talk to anyone?"

he chuckled, "no, love. i just need you right now. i wanna feel my woman." he nuzzled up against your chest. he even kissed the little gold chain around your neck.

eventually the peas started to melt and you put them back in the freezer. however with your back turned to your lover, you didn't notice his approach towards you.

he cornered you against the fridge with his large, scarred hands on your hips. he let out a shudder, "i need you." his voice sounded a little strained.

you swallowed as you kept your hands on the front of the fridge. you could feel his cock pressed against your ass. the rush was the fight was wearing off, but he needed another release.

"you could've just asked, riley."

he curved his back over you to lean in to kiss your neck. his hands traveled north to your breasts and groped them. the flesh filled his hands, his grip was a little rough. but, you didn't mind that.

"i know, love. but i couldn't find the words. i just needed you." his voice was like driving over gravel. it left you hot all over.

you blushed a bit at his words. you turned so you front was facing him. you took his face in your hands and brought him in to kiss his bruise. you said, "si-"

"please." he said as he curled an arm around you middle and brought you closer to him. your hands were splayed across his broad chest. he pulled you into a kiss and you had to get on your tip-toes to meet his lips.

he held you by your middle, his strong arms draped around your waist. he groaned against the kiss, "mine." his voice was as light as it could be.

you really had no choice. it was either you fucked on the bed or up against the fridge. and you knew the landlord would not want to deal with that. so you got out of your boxer boyfriend's grasp and took him by the hand. then you practically dragged him to your shared bedroom.

his eyes were on you as you walked. he felt his cock stir in his pants. you were just so good to him. you were the perfect girl for him. it made him smirk to himself even if it did hurt a little.

he watched your beautiful body on display for him as you tugged off the oversized shirt (that belonged to simon) and baggy sweatpants (that were yours, because his were two sizes too big!). he put his hands on your hips, feeling the softness under his finger tips.

he leaned in a down at you and kissed your cheek. he squeezed your hips and groaned against you, "pretty girl." you trailed your fingers through his blond hair.

your core throbbed for him, your heart leapt when he got a better grip on you and almost tossed you onto the bed. you bounced a little and laughed. "simon! no need!"

"i need ya love, you were takin' too long." he quickly got his shirt off. he hit his nose in the hustle of it all, but was too wrapped up in his deep lust for you that he didn't even wince at the pain, "c'mon, love. either you get them off, or i'm rippin' em of!"

usually he liked to slowly take off your bra and panties, but tonight was an inferno. a huge fire that burned in his core. his heart thumped as he go the buckle of his belt off and he slid the leather off from his waist. he watched you hastily get your underwear off and laid underneath him.

"i wanna see my girl on top." he said as he leaned in for a searing kiss and grabbed you to put you on top of him while he laid on the bed. you were both naked, two pieces of the same puzzle.

you moved so your pussy brushed up against him. he let out a choked groan as you didn't fully sink down him. he could feel his heart up into his throat.

it should be illegal for you to do that, and punishment for it is to get dicked down for five hours.

"like that, si?"

"if i wasn't so worry about breakin' ya, you'd already be ridin' it." he loved when you were on top. the sight of your eyes on him as you hold onto him for a leverage as you rode him.

"si." you smiled as you splayed your hands on his chest and sank down onto his cock. you could feel your heart in your throat as you sank yourself down on his impressive size. you choked out a moan and felt the pleasure pollute your head.

"that's it, baby girl." he said softly. his voice was a rumble in the back of your head like thunder. he guided your hips. he wanted to see close to his missus.

your big scary boyfriend. close to being the number one fighter in the league. the big shot. the ghost. there he laid under you, his eyes closed and his body melting into the bed. his hands your hips as he slowly guided them up and down. your cunt felt like a comfortable vice around him, he could hear the hitch in your breathing when he hit just the right spot.

what a beauty, the most loveliest woman he had ever laid his eyes on. that's why you were his woman, the only one he wanted. through hell and high water, to the moon and back. he kept his hand steady on your waist as you moved up and down on his cock.

you could hear your heart thumping in your ears from the blood rush of having sex with him. the most handsome man you ever had the privilege of loving. you held onto him for support as you raised and lowered your hips against pelvis.

you felt the curl of pleasure in your gut as his cock prodded at your most intimate parts. he felt so right. that was your man, as you leaned in and kissed him on the lips, you felt the inferno in your gut.

you felt hot and heavy all over, you felt the rush of pleasure echo through your body as you moved against him. he was your simon, the bloodied boxer, the ghost of the ring. he came home to you every night, he kissed you until you fell asleep in his arms, he brought you home flowers on tuesdays and always cooked dinner on sundays.

that was your charming bloke who punched people for a living. with his scars on his cheeks and lips, the crookedness of his nose, those piercing brown eyes and all the love he could give you. while he didn't believe it was much, it was more than you ever wanted.

"si"

"love."

you pulled him in for another hot kiss as you bounced more on his cock. the stabbing of his cock in you made you feel lightheaded, there was so much to fit in you. everything about simon felt big, from the meat on his shoulders to the width of them. his strong arms that were now wrapped around your middle, to of course his cock that was filling any gap in your pussy.

you dug your nails into his tanned skin and you let out a loud moan as simon clutched onto you and continued to push his cock up into you. it made you see stars as he moved.

"that's my woman." he huffed, "bright beauty." his voice drew as he bounced you on his cock. even if the pain in his face was still there, the sight and feeling of you around his cock managed to dull the pain. who thought pussy was a good cure for a bruise.

he pulled you closer to him, until your chest was against his. simon bent his knees and got a different angle to hit the back of your soaked cunt, "been thinkin' about my missus all evening. probably why my game got thrown off. was thinkin' about this sweet treat rather than johnny's punches." he chuckled as he managed to fuck you faster.

you whined, you didn't want to be the cause of simon getting hurt. but he quieted you down with a searing kiss. he didn't need to hear that, he wanted to hear your pussy getting fucked by him.

the angle made your head a little dizzy as you tried to keep some more of control. but it was too late, simon had already dominated your little pussy yet again. it was alright though, the feeling left shivers through your body.

he continued to make out with you, the kisses were sloppy and needy. it made your cunt ache as he rocked into you. the bed shifted under you two as you continued to make love.

simon loved you. he'd never hurt a hair on your head, even a chipped nail was a cause of concern for him. he kissed at you hot face as he felt you grow tense around him.

a few hard thrusts later and you were clamping down on him, orgasm pulled from you and you felt hot all over. the pleasure left your head swimming. you panted wildly as he continued to move against you.

he gave you filthy praise as he felt his own orgasm come over him. with a heavy thrust into you, he slammed his cock all the way into you and finished. spurts of cum hit the inside of your pussy and he left out a harsh grunt.

he dropped his arms down onto the bed and laid fully out. you clung to him and his cum clung to your pussy lips. you both laid there, basking in each other's embrace.

you leaned up and kissed him gently on his bruise, "my boxer." your fingers dragged down his chest, "you have to be careful. i hate when my man gets hurt." you kissed him on the cheek under the bruise, "i need you to come back to me in one piece."

simon's cock soon slipped out of your pussy and you softly kissed him on the lips. he said to you between kisses, "i always come home to my love. i love you so much." his words were like honey that melted to your core.

you laid in each other's hold. he had been a fighter all his life, but now he was simply yours. wrapped up in the comforts of bed, the bruises would heal but your love for him would be eternal. <3

[livmightlive]

Lu Boys Death Lineup

I was feeling a little edgy, a little angsty (perchance). I wanna say, this is based a little bit on canon and a lot a bit on vibes. Maybe this can be my (low effort 😔) febuwhump. Anyways, in order from first to last here it is.

Four - Four is in his mid-twenties when he gets called to help investigate with the resurgence of dark magic in the palace of the four swords. He goes in not expecting much, he’s used to being called to help aid in small things, like monster uprisings or in this case something to do with dark magic. He doesn’t expect things to go so wrong. It’s dark magic alright, but so much of it that it’ll overcome the land immediately if something isn’t done. Ganon is trying to return and Four is the only person in the way. So, he gives everything to seal it away. This effort fractures Four again, but not in the way it did before. This time the colors don’t reunite with each other but instead Four’s physical body is vaporized and his soul tears in to four pieces, each absorbing all the leftover darkness that Four couldn’t stop. Dot has no choice but to seal the palace completely.

Hyrule - When the chain’s journey ends, Hyrule doesn’t return home to a peaceful era. His journey continues and despite his and both princesses’ efforts things start to get worse. The cult has grown in an huge way and Hyrule soon knows no peace, constantly traveling to avoid them. They’re grasping at straws and with each year that passes since Ganon’s death they get more agitated. By his late twenties he’s more than exhausted. Hyrule no longer knows rest. He can’t return to the castle or any town, not even, especially not even, the ones that had been kind to him. The cult would find him. They burn would burn down buildings, cut down people, and even trample crops just to get to him. Unrelated to Hyrule, they destroy new growth forests and scar any attempts by the earth to heal. This has to stop. He goes to the cult and finds Ganon’s ashes himself. He makes sure that there isn’t anything left this time. The fire he creates, his last spell, burns for years.

Twilight - Twilight’s body is never found. Everyone who had known him had been greatly concerned for him for a few years now. It seems that he had been slowly going mad ever since he had turned 30. He had grown more and more restless, walking circles in his house until the carpet wore down. He withdraws for weeks, emerging with untrimmed hair and wild eyes. He holds a great sorrow at all times that cannot be quelled. He starts disappearing into the woods for weeks at a time. One day it all stops and it seems that he’s calmed down. His mind has returned to him. He begins tending to the ranch again, he smiles more, laughs more. But… There's an everlasting air about him that just feels like he’s waiting for something. A great storm descends on Ordon one day. It brings some destruction with it. Floods wash away buildings built too close to rivers and trees fall from loose soil. In its wake, it’s as if the world was shining silver. Twilight is nowhere to be found.

Wild - Wild is almost 40 when he leaves his and Flora’s shared home to go on a little expedition. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for this time but he craves fresh air and adventure. He’s on a well worn path, just leaving from a stable when he drops as if he were a puppet with all of its strings cut loose. And that’s it for him. Of course other travelers and stable hands try to check up on him, but he’s gone. There’s not a lick of life left in him. Purah runs a series of autopsies and can’t find anything wrong. He was in perfect health when he left and the people interviewed at the stables claim he was acting normal, or as normal as Wild can act. Purah decides that he must’ve thrown a blood clot or something, he probably had a left over brain injury from Hylia knows what, but both she and Flora know that’s a lie. They wonder if the shrine of resurrection only had so much to give Wild. They wonder if they have timers too.

Time - Time is almost 50 when he returns to battle. There’s a returning darkness that must be quelled. He prays that this won’t turn into another failure of his, that the mistakes he makes now won’t hurt his successors anymore than he’s already hurt them. His ocarina stays home; it’s buried deep under a floorboard beneath his and Malon’s bed. He takes some peace of mind from that. His fight takes him back to the lost woods where he never returns from. It’s decades later and Malon is old. Her hair has long been grey and she has grandchildren to keep her company. How she wishes Time could’ve met them… She’s called to the castle one day and asked if she recognizes skeletal remains of a Hylian body that was found downstream from the lost woods. She does. She prays that with a proper funeral her love might find rest, but she knows that he won’t.

Warriors - When Wars returns to his era, his work doesn’t end. He finds himself training the next generation of warriors and then the one after that. Wars never stops working as there is always work. There is always something he can do to make his home safer, to keep his people happier, to make them stronger. He’s still working by the time he’s halfway through his 70s. His friends and family beg him to retire, even Zelda has passed the throne down to her heir, but there’s still more to be done. He takes lunch one day in castle town and goes to his favorite pub. Despite the castle nurses banning him from eating overly rich food and beer until he has a less stressful lifestyle (it’s way too hard on his heart), Wars still likes to sneak a treat every now and then. What’s it gonna do? Kill him? He never finishes his last pint. 

Wind - Wind dies by complete accident. It happens when he’s in his 80s. He’s chatting with his mates while cleaning one of his old swords. He hasn’t had to use one in decades but he likes to keep them in good shape just in case he has to. Somebody tells a HILARIOUS joke. Wind doubles over in laughter, but as he does so he impales himself straight through. As he’s rushed to the newly opened hospital, Wind can’t help but continue to laugh. Oh boy is this stupid. He tells the nurses not to tell Tetra. She’d never let him hear the end of this. One of them starts weeping. Through tears she tells Wind that he won’t survive this. When they remove the sword he will bleed out unless he drowns in his own blood first. He cringes and tells them to DEFINITELY not tell Tetra. He’s a little annoyed when she and their closest friends and family come rushing in. She berates him. In between curses he can tell that she’s crying. He spends his last hours cracking jokes and sharing stories and gossip with those closest to him. When he starts struggling to stay conscious, they all bid goodbye and Tetra pulls out the sword. A year later, to her embarrassment, Tetra dies the exact same way.

Sky - Sky passes away peacefully in his sleep a week after his 100th birthday party and he KNEW it was coming. Sky knew for months. It started as small comments like at breakfast where he’d be like “Hylia willing I will see the solstice celebrations next week…” and his grandkids, and great grandkids, would be like “Grandpappy don’t say such things!” And he’d relent but it escalates to him asking his family members and friends which of his possessions they liked most. If they fall into his trap and answer, Sky tells them to write their name on it so they can have it after he passes. Nobody does this to his disgruntlement. Eventually they stop believing him because it gets to the point where every other dinner Sky mentions that his time to join Hylia draws near. Just in case they make his birthday a grand event. Somehow everyone, but Sun, is still a little surprised when he goes. She’s like *shrug* “he did mention it”. Like lovebirds, Sun follows him shortly after.

Legend - Nobody in the royal family knows how Legend is still alive. Some say it’s his great spirit, others claim that it must be courage, and those that know him best claim that it's sheer spite. If they were to actually ask Legend himself he’d spit. “The bitch goddess won’t let me.” He makes his opinion of his long lasting life obvious. No longer is Legend asked to attend prayer services or holidays in celebrations of Hylia. Not after the last dozen… incidents. Legend stopped counting how old he was after the passing of his dear sister and dear rabbit. The nurses who do frequent checkups on him mention that he is 121 years old. He rolls his eyes. Legend wants to go and he brings this up frequently, usually over dinner. He has great great great grand nieces and nephews now. He cares little to meet the next coming generation. Still, despite his fits of anger and general grumpiness, he is well loved. He lives in the castle now, not trusted to take care of himself. The kids love him best. “Grunkie Link tells the best stories <3.” He always makes sure to press treats or old rings into their hands when they pass. It’s a stormy night when the castle is thrown into pandemonium. Legend has gone missing from his chambers. Honestly, how hard could it be to find a wheelchair bound 121 year old man? They find him outside, screaming at the heavens. “Take me you HAG!” Screaming turns to pleading. “I want to see them again.” Before anybody can get close, lightning strikes from the sky and smites the hero. Nothing is left behind but ashes.

pls lmk what you think! Feel free to argue if you have a different idea <3