#link tbt.

[downspirals]

officially added link to my muses list. i'll make real info for him at some point but for now you get this:

based either during the events of breath of the wild or a modern au where he wakes up in the modern day. more aus coming probably and super open to crossovers.

i'm in the middle of my first playthrough, still pretty early on (from what i can tell) so i'm still learning a lot of lore and stuff.

a hylian who is believed to be a great hero. spent his life protecting the princess of hyrule, and almost died keeping her safe. he was put into a 100 year slumber in an attempt to save his life. after waking up, calamity has fallen across hyrule, and he is the only one who can stop it.

prior to his slumber, he was in a serious relationship with a woman named mipha. more on them to come at some point. by the time he wakes, she passed away a long time ago.

he is also suffering from amnesia, and while memories come back, they are fleeting. most of his life, eh does not remember. but he hears the voice of zelda, guiding him, and knows he needs to trust her.

he's transmasc and bi without gender preference <3

largely non-verbal. he is capable of speech and will talk if he wants to, but prefers to either sign, write, or just communicate through gestures. he will probably not say much to you, but he still loves you.

uhhhhh i love him <3

[grievedifferent]

epilogue (creature!au) — post!until dawn.

height: roughly 6'10 or 208cm (going from 6'0 or 182.8cm)

weight: roughly 180-185lb or 81.6-83.9kg (going from 288lb or 131kg); weight fluctuates through rehabilitation

josh wasn't down in the mines for as long as hannah, given that sam urged officials to search the mines, which means josh succumbed quickly. this isn't surprising.

skin tone: becoming paler, losing pigmentation, likened often to a corpse worth noting: skin is also tightening around the natural bone structure, particularly in the hands, feet, knees, elbows, and facial region

he was stopped mid-transformation, and contained by officials after almost killing two individuals (severely harming one in the neck and throat area). he was hospitalized for months to recover.

physicality: longer limbs and fingers, thinner features, described as jointed and bony. his ribs are starting to show less throughout his recovery. teeth are jagged and sharp, protruding heavily from his left side where his skin has split and scarred over.

eyes: glassy blue, again very "corpse-like"

vision: surpasses the natural 20/10, and sees things in a red-hue that predominately helps highlight movement ... essentially, he is perceiving "half" what we see, "half" what the creatures see. it's very jarring, making him often sick as he associates back into the real world. it's something he has to strive to focus on.

how is his disappearance explained? it's not really explained, more just he sort of disappears from the public eye while his dad continues working with the weight of multi-tragedies over his head. similarly to his primarily epilogue au, i think josh does find a way to "work" via his father's connections in the industry, essentially being even more of a ghost-writer in this verse. he writes horror scripts and novels under different aliases similar to his alternate counterpart.

where does he live? in a family estate in xyz area that his parents do visit but do not "live" in ... or at least, not often. some nurses and doctors visit regularly, as well as caretakers and such.

how to interact: despite this being his greatest fear, josh is entirely isolated. if he leaves at all, it is covered and at night, hardly interacts with anyone outside of the internet. his connections with his former friend's group vary per thread and interpretation, but generally speaking? likely he is only in contact with chris, if anyone, and maybe sam, though it's unlikely. you can meet josh online or during one of his rare outings at night, though primarily the former, especially if you've had a previous history with him. any sort of nurse / doctor / caretaker role is an open invitation.

[lunehouse]

THE AFTERMATH OF A BATTLE was always something of a nightmare to LINK. admist bloodshed, there were no ‘people’. simply obstacles. tallies to cross off. he steeled himself before he allowed the thought to fester. their general would point and he would charge—that was law. as he flicked a coat of blood off his sword, he thought of his sister. if she even remembered him. if he wanted her to. their work came to light as dawn came, no longer hidden under the blanket of a night sky—the sun's presence serving as a the judge and he the executioner. his commerades shuffled behind him, searching their enemies for valuables and laughing together as they celebrated. a weight pulled in his belly as he thought about how out of place he felt. as two men shoved past him, his eyes flitted over to the other two boys by him and slammed his sword down on a body's armour to get their attention. he held up three fingers and pointed to the cargo: a signal they were now well familiar with. ‹   let's load up .  ›

ϕ @burihal— « THORFINN THORRSON » ϕ @ariescrypt— « ZACK FAIR » ⁜ — « morning dew »

[sinshckled]

★ |  * ⋆      -   -  - –  INBOX !  *  ﹡                  ﹡     ✧ * ☇  ( @nocentis ! )

Suddenly, the walls feel like they’re [ closing ] on him – and Jellal is suddenly much, much too aware of the GRIDS OF METAL that surround him - them. He feels trapped. Not by any binding, nor by any cuffs - but by an all too familiar gaze of hazel. .

Ever since his identity had been ( accidentally ) revealed, the children’s behavior toward him changed drastically - and UNDERSTANDABLY. His disguise was one of their jailers’, but his face is the one of a friend ; ( regardless of how the years had changed it. ) And while his heart fills with fondness at the way Millianna and Sho run to hug his leg & at the awe in Erza’s eyes, it is not enough to dissipate his apprehension. Looking at his younger self has been harder ever since. Jellal knows the child has questions – can SEE IT in his body language, FEEL IT in the weight of his stare, and HEAR IT in his voice. && To these inquiries, he has no wish to answer.

But the ghosts of the past have never failed to catch up to him.               WHY WOULD THIS TIME BE ANY DIFFERENT ?

.

He gets cornered at the end of his “mission”, once the dust has settled back down. When the threat is no more, and they can all breathe a little easier. While checking up on the wounded - taking advantage of the first aid supplies he always carries and knows are scarce within these walls - 

He feels a shy tug at his cloak, and turns around to cobalt strands, a familiar marking, and a [ request to talk ].

Right there and then, he knows he cannot run from this anymore.

Alas, even though the Heavenly Body mage had started preparing, as much as he could have, for this discussion to occur  - this was him, this had been him, he should know better than anyone what he could ask . . . and yet, 

                              he still finds himself at a LOSS FOR WORDS.

                " … "

     What is he supposed to say ?

     He swallows thickly. His tongue feels HEAVY in his mouth, burdened with the knowledge of the last decades. He knows that child is DOOMED ; from the peek he had gotten in the office, it was only a matter of weeks… days even, perhaps. 

     These eyes – HEAVENS, he was so small; pale skin upon frail bones, muscles built from years of labor and stolen childhood. He looks so fragile, but his eyes, despite it all, burn alight with a ferocious SPARK ; one that has not shone in his own gaze for a very, very long time.

     His fingers crackle with starlight. He tastes an anger the likes of which is foreign to him – old, bygone. He feels an urge to defy the flow of time - to let the stars bring JUDGMENT upon this wretched island, sending this ATROCITY of a R-system crumbling to the ground, and take him - take them, all these poor innocent children, so so very far away from here. & yet he cannot ; 

       Why here ? Why now ? Why him ?             What is he doing here ?

     Memories of this time are nothing more than movie sequences in his head now, decades later ; so far away, so distant. This part of him has been laid to rest alongside the WICKEDNESS of his teenage years, and both only ever come back to haunt him as a form of torture. As a result, this child was no more than an ACQUAINTANCE, a figure erased by time, wrath, grief and BLOOD.

     But being there, quite literally face to face with his past - it all comes back to him. Flashes triggered by the long-gone architecture of these walls, by the stench of rot sitting heavily across the perimeter, by the crackles of electricity, the whirring of heavy machinery & the haunting sound of children sobbing a few cells further - quietly, by fear of being whipped into silence –      He now remembers being that boy. Forcing a smile every single day of his life, for the sake of the young who looked up to him. He would tell stories upon stories, wiping tears while holding his own grief tight on a leash. ( because those stories had been his brother’s, and his mother’s, and the village elder’s, && they had starred his cousin, his neighbor, the shop clerk and the fishermen – and all these people were DEAD, by now BONES buried underneath stone and charred wood and ash. )

       ... What was HE doing here ?

     He thinks he’s struck by all five stages of grief simultaneously.The thoughts crossing his head are a blur. He feels dizzy, knees one gust of wind away from buckling.

Blaming yourself for your own weaknesses is easier when you don’t have the 11 years old version of yourself standing before you.

Looking into your eyes with – one last sliver of hope.

––– How could he ever put the blame of his anger upon him?

HE WAS A CHILD. He was a child.

            ( It hits him all at once. )

.

He knows the intricacies of time travel. He knows he doesn’t remember going through this. He knows his younger self will not walk away with an answer, nor with a solution. This is Fiorean history – and it is set in stone.

That doesn’t mean he wants to LIE to him.

( Not when he’s been standing wordlessly for this long. Not when he has let silence stretch so far. Not when the tiny, fragile version of himself is catching on to what it means. Perhaps, if he’d been quicker, it could have been an option. ) 

.

     And so Jellal does the only thing that, amongst all the possibilities offered to him, feels undoubtedly, irrevocably right. 

     He closes the distance between them with a few steps and crouches down to meet himself at eye-level. Looks – really looks at him, commits every detail to memory. From the slope of his nose to the tangled, soiled strands of blue decorating from his head ; from to the fainter scars he still sports to the swirls of angry red framing his eyes, pools of sage & amber in his irises. And then he reaches out, wraps his arms around the scrawny frame and gathers him slowly, carefully, in a hug. 

     He hides him in the crook of his shoulder; gives him a shelter, an adult, where the hastily-built foundations of his mask of strength can crack, if he so wishes. 

He lets him be a child once again.

     ――――― Just for a moment.

.

━━━ ━━ ━ ╸╺ . * ✰

“ is all this countless suffering for my own good? ”

.

Later on, shortly after finding his way back in the present, Jellal will ponder this further. The Heavenly Body mage will stand on a beach, amongst speckles of sand, and watch the sun gradually DISAPPEAR beyond the vast sea that once held him [ hostage ] ― painting the sky in shades akin to the burning fire that took everything away from him. 

He will think of his younger self - so far away in time, yet now so close in memory. 

He will close his eyes, push open the door to his history, rush past the whispers and shadows crawling its walls, and find that child still within him. He will dig him out from the grave he was buried within, and he will give him his SIGHT - his HEARING - his TASTE - his EVERYTHING.

He will let himself feel breeze upon his skin, breathe in the smell of sea salt, taste the freedom of a boundless life.

     And when his eyes open again, he will gaze upon that landscape, && he will find it beautiful.

.

✔ ― ACCEPTING

[regnantlight]

❝ I’ll be there for you as the world falls down. ❞

Zelda suspects that the words were not meant to be heard, uttered so quietly against the crackle of flames as she drifted the space between consciousness and darkness in his arms. She'd strayed too deep in cold waters once again, lingered too long, blued her fingertips and slowed her heart beat—and all for naught.

It was disappointing, but hardly surprising, and somehow, it didn't hurt as much this time. Not as much as every time before. Link's hand was so warm as it had helped her out of the water, his arms warmer, the thrum in his chest so very soothing...

I'll be there for you, too, she wanted to tell him, but all she could muster was a slow, deep breath.

I'll protect you, Link.

Somehow.

[xhyenabite]

Self

A wholesome Trolls fic starring Floyd and Veneer

⚠️ PROSHIPPERS DNI ⚠️

╔══════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*══════╗

The sound of all-too-familiar arguing drew Floyd from his trance-like state of zoning out—something that he'd done since childhood, but now he was doing it almost constantly now that he was imprisoned and had nothing better to do—and soon watched as Veneer appeared, clearly stressed and upset. Floyd knew exactly what—or rather, who—had caused it: Velvet.

Despite Veneer directly contributing to his capture and torture, Floyd couldn't help but feeling sympathetic towards the boy. They'd had a few heart-to-heart moments in the few weeks he'd been with them, and Floyd had been able to see how troubled and vulnerable Veneer was on the inside. It led to a sort of fatherly feeling—he thought it was a fatherly feeling, but, then again, he'd never had any kids—and the two often vented to each other about their shared stressor.

Veneer hardly spared him a glance as he headed straight for one of the chairs and plopped down heavily. Floyd had a feeling that the lack of eye contact was due to guilt; he truly believed Veneer was not a horrible person.

"You need to learn to stand up for yourself," Floyd said after a few minutes of tense silence. "And learn how to be comfortable as the real you."

"I know," Veneer snapped, not even turning to look at him. "It's not that easy. I've tried. I don't think it's even just Velvet anymore. I've tried with everyone."

"Of course it's not going to be easy," Floyd sighed, resting his head back against the diamond glass of his prison. How the hell do you even talk to teenagers without sounding old? "But the best place to start is to be yourself when you're alone. Or around me."

Veneer was silent for a moment before he heaved a sigh. "I don't even know who the real me is," he muttered. "I've always looked up to Velvet. As far back as I can remember, I just wanted to make her proud of me. I didn't even care that much about my parents' opinions, and, well, when you have a twin sister, it's hard to find time to be by yourself."

Floyd couldn't help but laugh a little at that. A quiet laugh, but it was definitely audible. "How do you think it would feel to grow up with three older brothers?" he asked. "Even after my little brother was born, I still found time for myself. It's important. More important than you may think, Veneer. Look at me."

Veneer didn't move at first, then he slowly turned his head towards the diamond bottle. "I know it's important," he mumbled.

"Do you?" Floyd continued. "If you depend so heavily on the opinions of others, you'll never be worth anything. Your confidence and idea of self will constantly change. You'll never be the person you want to be. But if you spend time with yourself and get to know yourself, you might like him more than the Veneer that you show the world."

Veneer looked thoughtful for a moment, though still hesitant. "I don't know," he whispered, then stood up. "I don't even know if I'll be able to find time to myself. Velvet's probably already mad at me for being gone for so long."

"When is she ever not mad at you?" Floyd asked sincerely. "She's a bully, Veneer."

"I kn—"

Floyd cut him off before he could continue. "I'm not just saying that because I don't like her. It takes a lot for me to dislike someone, but trust me, abusing the people who care about you is a very quick way to the top of the list. Why do you think she behaves so different towards you when there are other people around? She knows what she's doing is wrong, and she knows people would despise her if they saw the way she treated you."

Veneer's stare drifted warily towards the doors. "I don't think they would. They love her," he muttered. Floyd felt his heart break a little as he recognized the usual sign of Veneer blocking his own thoughts and feelings again for the sake of his sister. "And I love her. Being famous is stressful, and so what if she has to take it out on me? I'd rather have her do that than keep it bottled up."

"You're not a punching bag, Veneer. And you're not her therapist. You're just a kid. A kid who needs to live for himself because he's so damn young and doesn't deserve to spend half of his life worrying about what everyone else thinks of him," Floyd rambled, idly picking at the tattered threads of his shorts. The conversation had turned oddly uncomfortable for him, and he knew it was because he'd been speaking from personal experience. "Trust me . . . it's really, really not worth it."

Veneer hadn't moved from where he was standing, but when Floyd finished, he turned away with a huff; but when he didn't say anything in return, Floyd found himself hoping that the boy would consider what he'd said.

"Yeah, well, I've tried that too," Veneer muttered after a long pause, and stormed out of the room, once again leaving Floyd alone in his prison.

╚══════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*══════╝

Interested in reading more of my fics?

Find me on AO3!

[mirrorsofwar]

If anyone wants to follow my multi pls check it out over at @mvltimvse

[beautifulxdangerous]

//Now that things are better on my end, tfg efhjedfejejlk; I'm going to actually do what I wanted to do & draw my version of Tiresias so I can replace him up on the muses list officially. Then I'll work on some inbox stuff & send some stuff out to mutuals inboxes later on.

If anyone wants to be included in the affiliates that I already have in mind of who I'm adding first, let me know. I plan on getting caught up here with things before I get new stuff out.

[fortunesblade]

i slap down the tiniest bit of info and basics as i work on these blogs Name: Zahav Auglamyr Race: Elf Gender/pronouns: He/him ( transmasc ) Affiliation: Lords of Fortune Class: Rogue just a little seafaring lad that grew up mostly at ports and aboard ships, got drug through the mud before things turned for the better in his life. always has an escape plan and takes on risks head first.

and as far as rules go i'm trusting people out here know well enough how to behave. don't be pushy, don't godmod, don't steal ideas. won't tolerate bigots, racism, homophobes/terfs, the like.

[enjomo-arch]

portgas  d.  ace  has  appeared !  what  to  do ?

flirt

marry

throw  drink

kneel  down

[grievedifferent]

name: salem laurent (named salem after the town he was born in — salem, oregon)

age: 26-29+ (a year younger than romeo baker)

dob: january 07

sign: capricorn

height: 5'11 (180cm)

weight: 190lb (86kg)

gender: cis-male

orientation: hetero-leaning, currently questioning / is curious

hair: naturally dirty blonde (almost brown), dyes it various colors, currently doing a silver with blue tints

eyes: blue-grey

complexion: naturally pale, burns easily, many moles on his body

ethnicity: primarily french-dutch mix

tattoos: tba

piercings: tba

season: winter

tarot: the tower

animal: tba

career: currently job searching / between jobs. always trying to bring money in. occasionally peddles drugs. he primarily works retail (sears, macy's) but has always wanted to be a tattoo artist.

personality: outgoing and forward, salem can be outwardly irresponsible and lazy, but when motivated properly, he is quite helpful. with low self-esteem comes a projection of perceived self-worth. sometimes salem acts out apathetically, trying to create distance between himself and whatever he "doesn't care" about. this often conflicts with his familial obligations. prideful and possessive, salem can have a bit of a jealous streak, initially not liking change, though he learns to adapt to it as time progresses. with possessiveness comes protectiveness, always there for his family and friends at the end of the day. while not always "the reliable sort", you can always rely on salem to be there. he will show up.

salem relies heavily on the dichotomy his friendships provide him, often feeling lonely without them. this is ironic, considering he actually has a large family.

salem is connected to romeo baker, the primary original character of this slice-of-life story. he acts as one of romeo's best friends, alongside joonie (as written by otter).

he has six brothers and sisters from a family of seven siblings (including him). romeo often helps out around their house, as salem's parents are mostly absent.

SIBLING COUNT:

emmy - three years salem's senior, somewhat "head of house", has two young children of her own named sailor and elora also living in the home. the father of her children occasionally lives with them.

salem

kit (two years salem's junior)

blaze (five years salem's junior)

imogen and beatrix (bea for short - fraternal twins - eleven years salem's juniors)

trixie (youngest, nineteen years salem's junior - when salem is 26, she is seven)

this makes for a total of nine that live there regularly. busiest days can have up to almost twelve people.

more tba! this will expand more as salem develops.

[ofcelestialstories]

@upgrxded || Link & Anyone (Piltover & Zaun)

.｡.:*☆ "Damn, what was that for?" Like, Link knew he was not at home. And also not in Ivy Cove any longer. And he did his best to navigate in this place while also trying to find a way to leave it again. Because he did not belong here. He just could feel it. Which maybe was why some people did not react well to his presence. For now, this explanation was as good as any other, really...

"Like, seriously - what did I even do to piss you off like this?"

[regnantlight]

The thimble glimmers when Link holds it to the light. Much fuss for one teeny tiny thing, but even more fuss in its wake because a certain princess decided not to wait. He was greeted by a swift "Ouch!" when he'd returned to her cozy candlelit spot, and though she tried to hide what happened -- only after their eyes met -- it wasn't any use.

He knew. He always knew.

Link kneels before Zelda in her seat, staring hard despite her averted gaze. Her hands are taken into his, to one the thimble he was meant to fetch her. To the other, the result of not coming quick enough. She pricked her finger.

She tries to dismiss it, but Link is only vaguely listening... he'd already taken that wrist into his hand, drawn the fingers close for him to see that pearl of crimson growing from her flesh. And then...

❝ I will be faster next time, princess. ❞

... the blood vanished between his lips, as he took the tip of her finger into his mouth.

Jay continues to be the reason I scream.

Life in Hateno was...different. Wonderfully different, admittedly, with traces of ocean air carried on every breeze, but it came with the very large, glaring reminder that Zelda, Princess of Hyrule, was also different.

She didn't know how to farm or tend to cattle or build homes or hunt. Truth be told, she hadn't even washed her own linens before, hadn't cooked, hadn't managed a household without the luxury of help—though, she supposed there was still help in form of Link.

He did so much for her, had already done more than she could ever repay, and yet he continued in the following year by offering his home, preparing their meals, planting vegetables in their garden, washing their clothes, on and on and on. Zelda tried to learn, and yet, at every turn, Link continued to insist on taking each task on himself.

So when his shirt became torn, Zelda all but jumped at the opportunity to be at least marginally useful. This she could do. She had handcrafted numerous shirts before. It would be perfect, a seamless repair, it would be—

Her finger met the sharp end of the needle in her excitement. Zelda tried to trap the yelp in the back of throat like a child catching a firefly, but it slipped past her fingers. There was little use in trying to outwit Link's reflexes; his eyes and ears had always been quick, like the hand that captured her wrist and swiped her prickled finger across his tongue—

And once again, Zelda can not quite hide the little squeak that hitches a ride alongside his name, "Link...!"

Her cheeks and the tips of her ears begin to burn but she's too frozen in place to hide them. It is as though every nerve along her arms and back and neck have been set to simmer, popping like the oil Link tosses into hot pans. Her heart is beating so terribly fast—he can't hear it, can he?—and her own tongue feels too thick and bulky to speak.

She is suddenly very, very much aware of how very, very alone they are in this little house near the sea.

"The light is too dim," she's finally able to speak in way of a feeble excuse, though the words came out rushed and oddly pitched as she takes her hand away and begins to place the shirt, thread, and needle into a tidy pile upon the desk. "I'll finish this in the morning when there is more light—thank you, Link—I think I'll do a bit of reading before retiring for the night—sleep well."

She held a book on gardening in her hands until the wee hours of the night, and read precisely none of it.

[braveryhearted]

What's wrong with his house?

[deus-ex-mona]

it’s good big brother day (11月23日) so it’s time to stream senkou hanabi~~~~~~~

[dullweapons]

whatcha thinkin' about ray ?

( warning ! : n.sfw )

HORNY !!!!!!!!!

i picture him putting himself in hornyjail & doing hail hylia's to calm himself down .

edit : zoom in of the horny