#i didn’t think at all

[whump-in-the-closet]

The Scarred Among the Mundane.

cw: death threats, magical whump, captivity, elf whumpee, skeleton walking around in a generally creepy castle

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With a rope around Finn’s neck, the sorcerer drags him forward, into the crowd.

The watching, waiting crowd.

Finn stumbles. “You–”

The sorcerer nudges her horse into a trot, cutting off Finn’s voice by cutting off his air supply.

Dust shifts beneath his boots, rising with the crowd’s low voices.

“Scum.”

“…deserve death.”

“Die slowly—”

Finn rolls his eyes with great effort. “I deserve something better than ‘I hope you die slowly’, don’t you think?” he tells the crowd. “Maybe, ‘I’d greatly enjoy watching you scream for death, and instead of granting it, I’d prolong your miserable life for my own enjoyment.’ Hm? How's that?”

A slight pause. Then someone spits at him.

As the sorcerer pulls Finn out of the town square, he can feel it dripping down the side of his face. Along with the egg yolk.

Disgusting.

Finn wishes, not for the first time and not for the last, that his hands were free. He’d claw his own skin off in an attempt to wipe the food and spit off of his face.

And then he’d strangle the sorcerer. Maybe with the very same rope she’d tied around him. That’s a lovely thought.

The sorcerer yanks harder at the rope and Finn barely manages to catch his balance. “Don’t tell me you can read thoughts.”

They reach the edge of the town– a trampled road leading into green hills. On either side, there’s tall grass and tangled trees and sunlight trapped in the branches.

The sorcerer turns her horse away from the road. “I’d save your breath if I were you. We have a long way to go.”

Finn looks at the sharp grass that rises up to his knees. At the dark forest. The rope rubs awkwardly around his throat with every breath he takes. “You’re making me walk? Have I committed some deep personal wrong against you? What exactly have I done to deserve this?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to answer that for yourself. I’m not concerned with your wrongdoings.” She pulls Finn into the grass, urging her horse on faster.

Finn has to run to avoid being dragged unceremoniously through the dirt.

The sorcerer takes no hidden path, no secret entrance, no magic portal. Merely rides through thick mud and suffocating vines and deep shadows, taking Finn with her.

What wrongdoings?

Finn laughs.

Wrongdoings.

Behind his eyes, flames dance. Destructive. Beautiful.

So, besides the fires, he’s done nothing wrong. Well. There are the screams. The ones he can’t drown out.

The ones he hears when he’s trying to sleep.

The ones that don’t let him sleep.

Behind the flames, there are always the screams.

He will not apologise for a single fire.

A low-hanging branch cuts him across his face, knocking aside all thoughts of fire and replaced with stinging and a hatred for trees.

Spitting out leaves, he calls out, “How much longer?”

No answer.

“Do you live far away because you hate humans or because you hate me?“

A bird chirps. The sorcerer says nothing.

“Stricken silent, huh? I have been told I have this effect on people.”

The sorcerer lifts her hand, fingers twisted.

Finn doubles over, eyes burning and tongue feeling like a dead weight.

Silence.

The sorcerer sighs, but she slumps further in her saddle. “That's better.” It’s almost a whisper, buried by the overhanging, overarching suffocation of trees.

The ground begins to tilt upwards at an unnatural angle. Up, up, up until Finn’s legs ache. The trees, if possible, thicken.

But by the time they reach the top of the hill, the spell has faded. Finn’s tongue only feels slightly strange and no longer like a brick. An improvement.

And then he sees the fortress.

It’s a towering grey structure– all odd angles and formidding shadows. Dead plants cling to the sides.

Finn swears he can see eyes glowing from the windows. Not a good thought. Not a good one. Nope. Please no. He doesn’t like the idea of eyes.

The sorcerer rides into the courtyard, pulling Finn behind her. He doesn’t look away from the window with the eyes.

A smile pastes itself to the cracked glass, teeth dripping white. The eyes blink and then vanish.

Finn shudders, mouth like cotton.

The sorcerer dismounts in one fluid motion.

Licking cracked lips, Finn forces a smile. “You own all this?”

This time, the sorcerer smiles back. It’s a deeply unsettling smile. Keeping one hand on the rope and the other on her horse, she nods behind Finn. “My father does.”

Finn turns. His false smile falters before failing all together.

There’s a raised garden in the courtyard, and standing over it is a human skeleton. Bone-white. Eyes gaping and dark.

Finn takes a stumbling, rushing step back.

The skeleton, with stiff fingers, begins to weed the garden. Pieces of grass fly into the air, green and yellow.

But Finn can’t get the image of gaping eyes and dull teeth out of his mind.

It’s a long moment before Finn is able to speak. His voice is a choked whisper. “That’s–”

The sorcerer grins. “Was my father. The property is still in his name. Never got around to changing it. Don’t worry, he’ll only come after you if you try to escape.”

Finn’s knees threaten to give out on him.

The sorcerer tightens the rope. “Come. We don’t have all day.”

Numbly, Finn follows her inside the fortress. She takes him down a winding staircase– lit with light that has no source.

The darkness deepens with the cold. They step into a long hall, doors lining either side. The sorcerer kicks open the first one.

“In you go.”

Finn stares at the aching emptiness of the small room. He blinks, swallows hard. You have got to be kidding.

“Elf, I saved your life. The least you can do is show a little gratitude.”

“I said thank you.”

“Your life is in my hands. Do not try my patience.”

Finn snarls. This is bad.

Bad bad bad.

“What exactly does a necromancer want to do with an elf?”

Again, that unsettling smile. “You’ll find out in the morning.” She unlocks the chains around Finn’s wrists and unties the rope around his neck. “And I’m not a necromancer. The name is Verne.”

“Didn’t ask.”

Verne waves towards the cell. “Get in.” Her voice allows no refusal, no argument, no banter.

Finn steps in. Dust rises up in a soft cloud around him. And as the door slams shut, he tries not to flinch.

tagging: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast (lmk if you want to be added/ removed)

[chloesimaginationthings]

Man this scene in FNAF 2 movie is gonna be wild-

[maxgicalgirl]

Being a “Fun Fact !” kind of autistic is all fun and games until you get halfway through sharing an interesting tidbit and realize that it probably wasn’t appropriate to share in polite company and now you have to deal with the consequences :(

[bioshzrd]

this random ass guy who’s entire bit is that he can move like this is the only good wesker fan ever

[the-phantom-peach]

Little Big Changes ✂️~

———

CONTEXT~~

A long forgotten short comic I did for pre-totk/post-botw domestic zelink

I love Zel’s hair symbolism especially after altering her status as a “princess”and becoming a Hateno grade school teacher. She’d most likely still maintain some insecurities but that’s what our lovely knight was made for <3

Semi-connected to my previous Signing Link headcanon, Link speaks here for the first time post-Calamity and gets super self-conscious. But of course Zelda doesn’t mind and is happy that Link growing more comfortable after the events of breath of the wild

[detentiontrack]

When Mabel comes out to Stan, she’s really scared that he’s going to reject her and have an issue with it, so she’s emotional and asks him if he still loves and supports her and he’s just like “??? Kid I’ve been telling you all summer I’m one of the LBTGs” and then it’s her turn to be like “wait what??” because she thinks he had never mentioned a sexuality before, and it turns out Stan had been constantly telling the kids that he’s “ambidextrous” because he thought it meant the same thing as bisexual.

[inumbrapugnabimus-maybe]

Four’s colors: standing there awkwardly

Legend: having a flashback to that one time he killed four colorful and identical dark links in the literal Palace of the Four Sword

Thanks for the request anon!

[vmkhoneyy]

I think if I could be the kind stranger in someone’s memory, that’d be enough.

[moonilit]

He got some fact checking to do

[oldbutchdaniel]

ever since i was a little girl i knew i wanted to speculate about the sexual and romantic undertones of celebrities’ professional relationships

[andromeddog]

far and few, far and few

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF Phone guy was wild for saying that to Michael..

[decaffeinatedpartymuggoop]

Instead of the “Jason vs Percy” rivalry we should have gotten Annabeth vs. Jason but instead of a fight for power it’s them having a battle of autism cause their special interests were Greek myths vs Roman myths.

Jason calls a Greek god by their Roman name and Annabeth pops up out of nowhere and goes “erm, actually”

The 7 is talking about some landmark and Annabeth and Jason start arguing about which pantheon it was dedicated to.

“It’s amazing right? It was dedicated to Athena.” “Erm, it was actually built for Mars…”

[frogs-in3-hills]

hi does anyone else think about april throwing herself over leo to shield him in the shredder strikes back despite having no weapons no way to defend herself and probably assuming she was going to die. does anyone think about that all the time. every day. uncontrollably

[ID: Digital fanart of Ninja Turtles 2003 depicting a scene from The Shredder Strikes Back part 2. April kneels over an injured Leo, cradling his head and looking back over her shoulder to snarl viciously at the camera, though there is obvious fear in her eyes. Her hair has partially fallen out of her bun, the loose strands sticking to her face with sweat. She has a cut on her cheek. Only a portion of Leo’s face can be seen from behind her shoulder. He looks up at her with a sad, pained expression. He has a swollen, bloody shiner on his cheek in addition to other cuts and bruises on the rest of his body. They are on the wooden floor of a dark attic. End ID.]

[eddis-not-eeddis]

The Lord is unnecessarily gracious to idiots like me.

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

steve “cant get out of bed till middle of the day, barely leaves his house or is never home, isolating himself from everyone, never takes time for himself anymore, depressed and is slowly losing more and more of himself every single day” harrington post 1986’

robin “i know you loved her, and it must’ve killed that she wouldn’t take you back, but nancy is happy steve and she still loves you. she’s not the only one out there for you, and you’ve gotta get over it. we miss you” buckley post 1986’, trying to help her best friend

steve “…this isn’t about nancy” harrington.

robin “wha-?… oh. oh steve.” buckley.

he still wears the vest.