#no I’m not ok

[captainlynxx]

I just KNOW that this hoes favourite film was dead poets society (not including James Bond films ofc)

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Covering BOTW!Link in kisses pretty please (> <)

Yeah, I can do that!

I made this surprisingly angsty (though if you’re not new around here that may be less shocking) so be warned.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

For someone with such an utterly distinct lack of memory, Wild often found himself drowning within them. Fleeting snippets of vision or audio cut in and out, warped and distorted beyond anything he can truly grasp at. One second he’d be laughing alongside his brothers, but when his eyes blinked he’d be a century in the last. Oftentimes after the phantom arms of his previous life embraced him, he felt less than who he was before. his smiles dulled and heart weighed down. As if knowing more about who he was then made him less of who he was now. As if the two sentiences couldn’t coexist.

It was a quiet night, humid with the onset of summer. The fireflies —lightning bugs as Twilight called them�� dancing lofty paths amidst the air. Sat side by side, the champion absorbed the fable. At first it seemed rather childish, the idea of two wolves within oneself fighting to make the forefront. But the longer he went on the more it resonated. The mental image as one sneers and snaps, barring its ugly teeth in unwavering violent truth. All while the other dodges and uses the violent’s strength against itself, all while denying its own violent nature.

Allegorically it was good versus bad, overindulgence against suppression. The idea that to overindulge, to snap, to be reckless would lead to being taken advantage of. Wild knew why Twilight thought the story relevant to him. He knew that whenever he’d turn his back on his enemies to support that it wasn’t viewed as loyalty. He knew that there was lots to lose, and they couldn’t afford another injury. He knew Twi didn’t want to see him fall into a similar circumstance. But he knew he couldn’t afford to fail again. He couldn’t fall short. He can’t lose someone close again.

Where externally he was viewed as the former, he internally found himself in the latter of cases. He fought the battle between the whispers of the others in contrast to his own thoughts of himself. Left with the residual pressure to be nothing short of perfect, to be The Hero of Time, to be worthy of the title and the land and the fate and the soul. The yearning to simply live and be without the burden of his own guilt, to be Link, to be your lover and accept the love without feeling indebted.

He didn’t realise Twilight had left.

His head swims and he feels clammy as he curls up, deciding aimlessly that it’s time to sleep. His feet lead him inside his house and he can hardly even stumble up the loft. Someone else can sort dinner.

Any sense of sensibility is muddled and mixed. Time does not matter, nor the relevancy if his mind.

He stares back at the shards of his past life, his chipped reflection in each mirror, and can’t help but wonder who he’d be if he were just Link.

Or would he be even anything at all if not a hero?

What was it that he truly was?

Mipha had written that he was a rather rowdy child, eager to take on the world with nothing more than a stick in hand. Then, he held no care for being proper. Wide grin and leaves in his hair, he was happy. Perhaps that was the most of himself he could ever be. Perhaps that was the reason he finds himself wandering aimlessly now. Perhaps that is his nature.

The records of many soldiers he fought alongside depicted him as the prime standard of the military. Those days were cold, and he just remembered how much he hurt. The ache of every muscle and bruise, every drill, every spar, every battle, every day spent alive that was spent suffering. His ability to cut down any monster or man with any weapon. His instinct and ability to hurt was primed until he now questions if that little boy who splashed around in rivers and threw handfuls of mud had retreated into the cold hands of death. The soldiers’ mirage of him is idyllic, but holds distressingly true to his own memory.

Perhaps that is why his mind is clear and quiet with weapon in hand and a body beneath his feet.

He dreams of musty stables and bare campgrounds, both places the since passed versions of himself would’ve spent a night at. The smell of dirt and dust is accompanied by the crackle of a fire as drunken men sing out of tune.

The littlest curled up as his teeth chattered, the chipped tooth whistling as he exhaled. A warm hand settles on his shoulders as his father drapes another thin blanket over him. He does not yet know this means his father will go without warmth.

The soldier tossing and turning, unable to relax even long enough to sleep. He too his tormented by the potential of falling. He does not yet know what’s to come. He does not yet know there’s nothing to be done.

The scene shifts and he is at the castle. It’s his first time and his eyes shine as he follows his father closely, following hot on his feet with a giddy grin.

It is his home. His work. His life. He follows the princess closely, just far enough to not make himself overbearing. He does not smile. He does not frown. He does not fail.

The colours fade and mix and blur, the dreamscape shifting oncemore. It’s raining. It pitters across his shoulders as he kicks up the puddles, scaring the stray cuccos from the stable not too far away. His father fusses over the sword he’d found, and he can hardly muster the strength to swing it against the base of the apple tree. He results in climbing up the twisted limbs, collecting extra ripe apples to ease his father’s worries. The wet bark gives no grip to his feet and he falls to the ground, winded next to the funny blue sword. It glints and chirps and when he catches his breath he laughs back.

It’s storming. The grass smells wet and irony. The bloody mud cakes his boots as his foot falls brace against the ground. His arms lock as he flings his shield to the side, the guardian falling to disrepair. His shield lay broken. He can see his strained face in the dirty reflection. He doesn’t like the man staring back. The rain pelts across his back and the lightning shakes the ground. His muffled ears pick up Zelda’s distress as another guardian climbs up the mound of soul. He draws his sword. He didn’t even know if it were possible to deflect a guardian laser with a blade. But he can’t fail now. Not after everything. A flash of blue light overtakes his vision as his limbs slacken.

He shoots awake with a familiar tightness in his chest, his scars itching and burning. He writhes beneath his own skin as he kicks the covers off, the cold air seizing him. His lungs struggle to draw breath as he wheezes. His vision tunnels and it feels as if he’s dying again.

Why can’t it just be over.

When will he finally be enough— if not for the sake of the world then to at least save himself?

Or maybe he doesn’t deserve to be saved. He couldn’t save all those innocent people. Castle town, Deya, Lon Lon? Who was he to demand he was worth saving?

He hacks and coughs before even trying to look at his surroundings. Through the mixed screaming within his mind he gathers a few realisations. He’s alive. He’s home. You’re curled up beside him, reaching for his warmth. His hands tremble as they reach towards his uneven hairline, grabbing a fistful and tugging. The pain stings, he feels more than awake as his heart races.

“Mm- Link?” You mumbled against his side, awoken by the cold lack of covers. Guilt fills his throat again until he can’t breathe. He’s supposed to help you, to love you, to be of use. Not be such a burden. But here he is again, making it about him. Making your life worse and demanding comfort like a child.

“Heyheyhey- It’s ok, you’re safe” Your voice was as soft and gentle as your touch as you cradled his cheek. He didn’t even realise he was crying. Why was he crying? Who’d want a hero who cries like a coward in the face of a danger that isn’t even real? You collect his hands together, loosening his grip from his hair and running your thumbs across his knuckles. His head stirs as you speak, and he can’t make out anything of what you are saying. His ears ring, more than usual, drowning out any sound.

“Breathe with me, ok?” He nods weakly after you repeat yourself for the third or fourth time. He tries his best, his ribs shuddering before he could fully breathe in, but no longer deprived of oxygen, his head stops swimming as much.

It’s a while of sitting there, hands in your lap as you calm him down in whatever way he quietly requests. It’s so odd. Being raised to serve and to give and being taught through experience that your worth lies in your deeds… to suddenly being the one catered to. It still feels as if asking to be loved is forbidden. That his purpose comes before all requirement and survival. Somedays it still feels like death would come before he would be comfortable. But it took many long nights and longer days spent having uncomfortable conversations before he realised he still had a chance, only if he chose to make one for himself.

At some point he lets himself settle. He sinks into the now cool mattress as you stare into his eyes. He feels a flicker of shame before your hands are back on his jaw and you're pressing light kisses to his skin. Both temples, forehead, each freckle on the apple of his cheeks, crooked nose, the tip of his burn scar, the cut in his chin. You pull back for a moment to admire what you’ve made of him through the years. He smiles, lopsided and as giddy as he was in childhood. You press an eager kiss to his lips, giggling throughout.

He may be lost within the maze of his own mind, a man held hostage to himself, but despite being a failure by his own previous standards, it doesn’t matter so long as he’s enough for you.

[paperglader]

whenever someone makes the choice to say things on the tl like “oh, the imodnas are doomed by the narrative” specially since laudna asked Imogen to promise her to move on and be happy if she died… just, how do you all get by and live your normal lives? are you not haunted by the look on Imogen’s face when laudna promised her a quiet life way back when they hadn’t even kissed yet? Just-

Do you see her face??? This is everything she’s ever wanted. Right there. Offered by the woman she loves, and they hadn’t even verbalized it yet, but Laudna’s still promising everything. THEY’RE NOT ALLOWED TO DIE. They have to live in a freaking cottage. In a field. Raise horses and just be.

[socalledsomethingorother]

aizawa still thinks katsuki is dead aizawa still thinks katsuki is dead aizawa still thinks katsuki is dead aizawa still thinks katsuki is dead aizawa still thinks katsuki is dead aizawa still thinks katsuki is dead aizawa still thinks katsuki is dead aizawa still thinks katsuki is dead aizawa still thinks katsuki is dead

[neverbeenanaturalll]

there’s nothing i love more then making a playlist for my favourite character and then playing it and putting my head in my hands and just taking in the lyrics and being like “oh my god this is so them 😭😭😭” as if that’s not the exact reason the song is in the playlist.

[ealeczander]

Imma expose myself here but my favourite ship of all time is a horny, bratty, downright psychotic (sometimes serial killer) sub and his calm (way more capable and smart) dom

[twakiju2]

ok i am omw to class i am outwardly chill and fine and ok and not on the verge of tears this is fine yes this is about Unification—

[ass-ass-ins-creed]

Ubisoft, knowing how to break hearts and destroy lives since 2007

[cherboxishere]

“I was wishing that,, we were two other people”

IM NOT OK.

[skoulsons]

Watching hopel scenes at 2am and crying blood sweat and tears

[esouliie]

hey guys, reminder that natasha dies in 2 days.

[itswrenlyart]

things are Happening

[bubbleseo]

people freaking out about how zb1 acted with jaeyul have never had a younger brother. they are indestructible and beg to be thrown around like he was LOVING it💀

[gordiepie]

My crazy batshit Tekken 8 guest character prediction

Gentlemen, ladies, non binary folks, and all others… I gather you here today to tell you something that I have been thinking long and hard about.

As you may know, Tekken 8 is out. And as you may know, there is planned dlc. And, like in Tekken 7, Tekken 8’s dlc will have dlc characters.

We have no idea who he or she will be, some say I will be from another fighting game, like Akira from VF or Terry from fatal fury… some say it will be from a popular tv show or movie, such as young Sheldon, or breaking bad… others even say I could be tifa from final fantasy. All these theories, these outcomes, could probibly happen.

But today, I give you something insane, the most chaotic rout Tekken could go when it comes to guest stars. The most batshit insane crossover ever.

Sonic the Hedgehog will be in Tekken 8.

I’m not fucking joking, if you REALLY think about it, and use all of your brain cells, it’s so conceptually STUPID, it could ACTUALLY HAPPEN.

Case in point:

1. IM RIGHT YOUR WRONG- I-I-mean, sonic is really popular right now

Like, really REALLY popular right now, practically in a renaissance right now? With the recent release of sonic frontiers and sonic superstars, the HUGE popularity of idw, and like, the entirety of sonic prime, it just makes sense, sega right now is just like “oh my god, they’re just gunna buy ANYTHING ARE THEY?!??”

And so, ya know what sega sees when sonic is in Tekken? Dollar signs. This reveal will probibly make the fandom CRAZY and profits would go OVER THE ROOF at sega HQ.

“Erm but actually…” you may say “namco says that all the dlc characters are going to have a special character episode in the story, meaning that sonic wouldn’t make sense lore wise, it would be batshit crazy!! uhhhhhhhhh”

Case in point:

2. Tekken is already batshit crazy

Akuma from street fighter is canon to the lore of Tekken. HE IS IN THE STORY MODE OF TEKKEN 7!!! PLUS, this is a fighting game with

1. A boxing kangaroo

2. A bear

3. A space ninja

4. Negan from the WALKING DEAD

5. GEESE FROM FATAL FURY

6. NOCTIS LUCIOUS CAILUM FROM FINAL FUCKING FANTASY

So of COURSE they’re gunna find a way to put sonic in Tekken lore, of course they’re going to do that, AKUMA WAS IN TEKKEN 7 FOR FRICKS SAKE

AAAAAA

Case in point

3. It will boost Tekken’s popularity and bring a whole new audience to the game

I tell you, A LOT of people are going to freak out if he gets in the game, Twitter would shit down for a week, the entire Tekken yt community will have THOUSANDS of videos about sonic, the sonic fandom would go into a chaotic frenzy, everything would go crazy, because SONIC THE BLUE FASTEST HEDGEHOG WILL BE IN TEKKEN FUCKING 8!!!!!

In conclusion, Sonic will be in Tekken 8, I’m right your wrong and no I am not ok thank you for asking. :3

[feartheoldblog]

imagine if cock was pronounced how loch is

[allieisacrybaby]

josh is mystified by fleetwood mac coded