#oh ow my heart

[evecolourshock]

...@systemadministratorclu your Clu needs to come hug this sad sassy child

"Was I not enough?"

[corgiteatime]

yeah sure i'm fine i'm totally normal i'm ok i'm fine i'm normal i'm n

[aardvaark]

the long way down job is such an important turning point in eliot & parker’s relationship bc they’d both been viewing the things they have in common as fairly negative: they’ve both been told that they’re cold and ruthless and dangerous and they know those things are true. so when they’ve recognised themselves in each other, it’s been a sense of "the thing that’s wrong with me is a lot like the thing that’s wrong with you". and there’s comfort in that, in a way. but now eliot gets parker to see that maybe those aren’t all negative traits, they’re just… traits. neutral. it doesn’t make them bad or good, it makes them who they are. and now when they see themselves reflected in each other, it’s not a reminder that they’re wrong and bad - it’s kinship, it’s familiarity, it’s belonging.

[cupiidzbow]

(BLOWS UP AND LEAVES A PAIR OF SHOES BEHIND) I got an amazing comm from @/almguav on twitter I feel so crazy and lightheaded rn IM SO HAPPY AUAGAHAHAHAHAGAGAQGGA

[hailsatanacab]

@ailithnight behold, my thoughts:

Depending on who you ask, Danny's been with the Waynes for anywhere from four years to three to what he knows is the truth. Two months.

It's a delicate question, really, so Danny tries to avoid it when he can, along with anything relating to his past with and without them. Best to keep them all in the dark for a little longer—just until he can say he's repaid some of the help they've given him.

Deep down, he knows it won't ever be enough.

But he's doing well! He's pretty much healed now, aside from the odd twinge whenever he stretches himself and his powers, and while he feels so incredibly guilty over this whole situation... It was for the best. 

He can't—he won't—regret it.

That's what he thought, anyway, until Bruce Wayne had come to sit on his bed one morning, eyebrows drawn in a concerned, confused, look.

"Danny..." he says, reaching his hand over as if he's going to lay it on Danny's knee before pulling it back with a breath. "Danny, we need to talk."

Well. Shit.

Look, Danny's under no illusions here, he's been living the good life. He’s been coasting and it's been more than good for him. Resting has done more than heal his wounds and honestly, despite the lies, he feels... Happy, here.

That happiness plummets in his stomach quicker than a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake.

“B?” His voice sounds tiny in the open space of his bedroom, far bigger than any room the Fentons had. It had been weird to get used to, at first. It didn’t take long for it to feel like home.

“Danny… Do you remember when you came here?”

There it is. The question he’s been trying so hard not to ask everyone, only now flipped on its head and pointing back at him. 

He doesn’t know how to answer it, so he doesn’t.

“What do you mean?”

Bruce sighs, his shoulders deflating. If Danny strains his ears, he can hear the rest of the family outside, the shuffling of their feet muddling with their dissonant whispers.

“I’m sorry, Danny, I’m so sorry, but…”

Danny’s heart stops.

See, there’s always a catch with Desiree’s wishes. They always come toppling down, one way or another.

He should have expected this, really, shouldn’t he? They’re the world’s greatest detectives, of course they would figure it out! It was only a matter of time. He just wishes—no, he had hoped—he’d be able to tell them first.

Bruce takes a deep breath and everything goes quiet. Danny’s chest feels like it’s going to explode. What are they going to do to him?

“Danny, I don’t think you’re real.”

Wait, what?

“What?” Danny asks, fingers clenching and unclenching in a futile effort to get them to stop shaking. “You don’t think I’m real?”

Is that… is this better or worse than realising Danny’s invaded their lives? That Danny’s infiltrated their minds?

“I’m sorry, that probably wasn’t the best way to phrase it,” Bruce says, looking away. He keeps his hands folded together in front of him. “What I meant to say is, I don’t think you existed before you fell into my lap two months ago.”

Is that any better? Marginally, Danny supposes. To them, he may as well not have existed until two months ago.

Danny doesn’t say anything—because really, what can he say to that?—and Bruce, who is back to watching him carefully, takes it as permission to carry on.

“I also believe that it’s my fault you’re here now.”

Okay, so, in hindsight, this is where Danny should have said something. Right now. If he comes clean, they might still like him. There’s still a chance that—if he just stopped lying to them right this second—they might still want him when this is over. 

But when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out. 

There’s a lump in his throat that hurts everytime he tries to swallow around it and his eyes burn and he can’t say anything because saying something means that this is all going to end, but—but… but it’s all going to end anyway, isn’t it?

“There’s a lot of evidence.” Bruce continues, looking back down at his hands. “We all have different memories regarding your first appearance, or how you were adopted, and why you were injured that night. Some things are the same, like how any memory of you is… distorted, somehow. Faded, barely there. As if it’s not there at all. Alfred had to make you a new room!”

“W-what…” Danny’s voice breaks as he desperately tries to think of how to salvage this situation. “What are you saying?”

“More damningly, there’s no security footage of you in the manor at all, not until the last two months when you fell right into my lap.”

Here, Bruce pauses, and Danny has to scramble to grab his hand and hold on. Bruce looks up at him, finally, and Danny’s startled to see red rimming his eyes.

“Danny, just moments before that, I had wished to have a child who would return my hugs.” Bruce offers him a small smile even as Danny’s heart swells into a painful lump in his chest. “I don’t know how it happened, or why it came true, but… I’m sorry, Danny.”

“Bruce—”

“It’s my fault. I couldn’t go on with the idea that all of this was because of my selfish wish now that you’re a fully realised person. You deserve autonomy, you deserve the choice.”

“Bruce, please—”

“You deserve to know the truth so you can decide what to do, I know that—”

“Listen to me, Bruce—”

“No, Danny, I know that you believe you’re part of this family—and you are—but you also need to know what happened, so you can—”

“It was my wish, Bruce!”

Finally, Bruce stops, and looks up at Danny.

“It was… Bruce, it was my wish,” Danny confesses, his words strangled by his heart pounding in his throat. His lungs burn as he breathes in far too fast, short, sharp and uneven. “I mean, it was my wish that caused it. Desiree—I was… I had to, because—Bruce, if I hadn’t done it, if I hadn’t wished for it, they would—they were going to—Bruce, please…”

Danny scrambles forward in the bed, his legs tangling in the covers, to get to Bruce. He’s going to miss this, he realises with a sob as he all but falls into his arms, he’s going to miss feeling safe in Bruce’s hugs. He’ll miss the happiness, the trust, the warmth, that security brings.

“Shh, Danny, it’s okay,” Bruce whispers as he combs his fingers through Danny’s hair, just like his mom used to do before she—before… It feels nice. It feels really nice. “Can you tell me what you mean?”

Danny takes in a deep, shuddering breath, and Bruce presses his lips against his forehead. Immediately, Danny softens, his core soothing in his chest, and he takes a moment to just breathe.

“I was real. Before the wish, I was real. I… I lived in the midwest, with my mom, my dad, and my sister. We were happy, mostly.” Danny presses his face tight against Bruce’s chest and he tries to keep the wobble out of his voice. “And then I died and I became Phantom and everything went to shit.”

“You were a vigilante, with your… previous family, too?”

Bruce doesn’t stop stroking his hair and Danny takes a moment to just enjoy it. He tries not to think about how it’ll be the last time.

Danny hums an affirmative and lets it sit there, for a second, as he basks in the warmth before it inevitably ends.

“My parents were… are… ghost hunters.”

Bruce stops.

Gently, he peels Danny off of him, and tries to look him in the eyes, but Danny scoots back and away to the other side of the bed. The bedspread is awash with stars, full of constellations. Dick got it for him when they realised he hadn’t anything of his own.

“Danny, what do you mean?”

“They hate ghosts. Call them evil, unsentient, no better than animals. They… They’re scientists, too. They study ecto-biology and—”

Danny hears a gasp from behind the door and he wraps his arms around his stomach. His wounds have closed now. He’s fine. He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine.

“When I… When I told them—I had to tell them, you know? The secret, it, it was eating me alive, they had to know, I had to let them know, they needed to know, right? Bruce, they had to know—I had to know, I had to tell them, because I knew they would love me. I was their son and they loved me, right? They love me, Bruce, they—they—Bruce, they loved me, I’m sure they—”

“It’s okay, Danny, it’s okay, come here,” Bruce says, holding his arms out for Danny to crawl into. Danny’s strong, but he’s not strong enough to resist his dad asking for a hug, not like this.

Bruce’s hands tangle in his hair again and he shivers as he relaxes.

“There’s a ghost in the Zone called Desiree.” Danny explains as soon as he’s settled. “She grants wishes. Everyone knows not to wish for things, now. They come true, but never how you expect them to. Always wrong. Always twisted.”

Bruce stops stroking Danny’s hair.

“You wished for this?” He asks, voice carefully devoid of any emotion.

“I wished…” Danny sits up to look at Bruce, wanting him to see, to believe him when he says it was the only way. “I was so desperate, Bruce. I had to do something and I know I shouldn’t have, but… I just wanted them to love me. I didn’t want to be on that table anymore. It hurt so much, Bruce, I had to, I had to wish.”

“Danny…” Bruce is staring at him with wide eyes, horror clear on his face. His gaze drifts down to Danny’s stomach, no doubt remembering his injuries and whatever fake memory Desiree conjured up to explain them.

“I wished that my family would accept me for who I am. I think,” Danny sniffs, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes to try and stem the tears, “I think you wished at the exact same time and it crossed Desiree’s wires up and she sent me to you instead of making my mom and dad actually—actually love me.”

Danny chuckles humourlessly, finally realising the main reason she probably sent him away. “It also probably helps that we’re hundreds of miles away from Amity, so I’m not there to ruin her fun.”

Bruce doesn’t join in his laugh. Doesn’t even crack a smile. He just sits there, perched on the edge of his bed, with his face creased in that sorrowful way it does when he’s down in the Batcave and thinking about a particularly tough case with too many victims.

Danny’s breath hitches in his throat and he forces himself to scoot back a bit, to let Bruce have some space. He probably doesn’t want to be near Danny too much right now, not after finding out that Danny’s been lying to them all this time.

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” Danny whispers, “I know it was wrong. I should have told you straight away, but… But I didn’t want you to hate me. I told myself that as soon as I was better, I would repay everything you did for me—and I’ve tried! It’s not enough, I know it’s not, but I-I infused the Bat-computer with ectoplasm so it’s way more intuitive now! And I made all those ecto-weapons for you, just in case you ever had to fight a ghost! And, and, and, I haven’t done it yet, but I was planning on updating the wards around the manor because—while they’re good—they’re not perfect and there’s some glaring holes that ghosts can exploit and it wasn’t like I was just going to leave them like that, I was going to fix it, I just don’t have all the strength for it yet and—”

“Danny,” Bruce says, cutting through Danny’s rambling. He places a gentle hand over Danny’s trembling one. “Danny, it’s okay.”

“What?”

“It’s okay.” Bruce repeats, a small, sad smile on his face. “I’m glad we found out what happened, and I’m so, so sorry that you went through that, but it’s okay. You’re here with us now, you—”

“No! No, Bruce, aren’t you listening? None of this is real, it’s my fault that—”

“Danny,” Bruce interrupts, taking Danny’s hand in his own now and smooths his skin in calming circles, “listen. The reason I wanted you to know about my wish was so that you could have the choice about whether or not you wanted to be here. Now that I know the truth, I’ve made my choice, too. You’re a part of this family, Danny, no matter how you came to be here. These past two months, I—”

“No!” Danny snatches his hand back, not entirely sure what he's doing or why he’s doing it. Isn’t this what he wanted? Why is his chest about to cave in when finally, finally, Bruce knows the truth and still wants him? Still accepts him, still loves—that’s it. 

A flash of ice lights down his spine as he realises what’s wrong.

"I promise, Bruce.” Danny says, eyes wide and voice trembling. “I'm going find Desiree and have her reverse the wish. I'll set everything back to the way it was. It'll be okay. I'm sorry."

For a moment, Bruce looks confused. He opens his mouth and takes in a sharp breath as if he’s ready to argue his point, but stops, nods briefly, and closes his eyes. Does this mean he understands, too?

They’re the Bats and the Birds. Gotham’s vigilantes and respected members of the Justice League. The greatest minds in the world. There’s no way he doesn’t understand that this has to happen. It needs to be done. 

They can't have something affecting their minds like this. Better to rid themselves of this magic and go back to normal.

There’s a brief moment of silence. Danny wonders what the others are thinking outside as he wipes the tears from his face, more determined now than he’s ever been.

"Promise me this, too, Danny," Bruce says, unable to stop himself. His fingers bleed white where they ball into fists. "Promise me that you’ll come back and find us when you're done. No matter how you came to be here, you're a part of this family. We will always accept you as you are, ghostly powers or not. You're family now."

"Yeah," Danny whispers, voice choking on the thought. His chin trembles and his mouth downturns and when he squeezes his eyes closed, tears roll down his cheeks. He hunches himself up, hugging his knees, as small as he can make himself.

"I mean it, Danny. You're one of us and we want you to stay." Bruce tries to rest a comforting hand on his leg, but Danny snatches it away, unable to bear the touch.

"I know." Danny says, with a watery laugh as he smiles at Bruce. "I know you do. You have to. Because of the wish."

And then Danny tucks his head back into his arms and sobs. 

Bruce can't stand it, he hates it when his children cry—and that's what Danny is, he's his child, no matter what circumstances brought him here. He knows his mind, he knows himself, and he knows that he'd never turn away a child like Danny. He never has and he never will, because, at his core, that's who Bruce Wayne is.

He reaches over to pull Danny into a hug, and, after a tense second where Bruce thinks he’s going to pull away again, Danny latches on tightly and squeezes him hard, as if he's worried he's going to lose him forever.

Bruce hugs Danny and Danny hugs him back and neither of them acknowledge that it’s because of the wish.

The bats have so many folks around, even if they aren't always working together. Enough that folks like to joke/write about Danny just kinda showing up acting like he already lives there. He just kinda blends in.

I'd love to see more magic motivated versions of this. Some kind of spell that affects the bat's perceptions of the past and present, making them actually miss that this boy wasn't with their family too long ago. Maybe it changes their understanding like it's a time line shift, maybe it fogs their mind just a tad and makes them glaze past something like it wasn't even there. I like the second if only because I feel like that would make it more likely for the bats to realize a spell was a foot.

Imagining this from Danny's side, hes terrified this whole time of getting found out. He knows how and when he showed up here and maybe even how flimsy whatever magic is in place is. Imagining a Desiree wish that was either very carefully worded or Not so carefully worded. Maybe he placed himself with the Wayne family with the expectation that he would quietly mooch of some rich idiot until he was ready to be on his own. Or maybe he wished himself to be a part of the batclan, taking up a mask and patroling with them as a bird that Doesn't Exist.

Ofc eventually the spell has to be broken, leaving the bats confused worried scared angry probably even amused, and a billion other things. WHY did this teenager decide to adopt himself into the Wayne/bat family? Who the hell is he and where did he come from. Someone call Zatanna, there is some magic Fuckery going on.

[dstrome]

@taylerstrome, 07.19.2024

[just-a-carrot]

morning repose🌄

[becauseplot]

It's over. It's done. It's over.

Forever is sobbing when Phil, Cellbit, and Bad walk back into to the room.

It's a desperate tangle of English and Portuguese that's spilling from his lips, nigh unintelligible. As the three of them make their way around the cell, Phil starts to desipher the words: "--faça parar! Faça parar! Please stop, please stop, PLEASE! Faça parar, por favor! Por favor...!"

Forever is curled up in the corner of his cell, face hidden in his hands, crying out for anyone, anyone to help him.

Phil swallows. Breathes.

He takes a step back and lets Cellbit step forward, taking up the view of the window. Cellbit starts to speak in Portuguese to Forever as Forever continues to wail, shrinking away from Cellbit and shaking something fierce. Cellbit asks Bad to remove the glass pane and Bad does so in a heartbeat.

"Olha para mim," Cellbit says with a voice that's firm and raw but not unkind. He takes a deep breath, feline tail swishing about his ankles, and holds a bar of the cell for support as he leans in closer. "Olha para mim, Forever. Abre os olhos. Por favor."

A few seconds pass. Forever's sobs wither out into wheezing breaths, and his trembling hands slide down his face. Bloodshot eyes peer up at Cellbit. Terrified. Confused.

And Cellbit begins to talk. Phil barely understands a word of it, but Cellbit is calm and clear in his speech. He holds up the syringe for Forever to see, pointing to its contents, and he talks Forever down when he starts begging again. Bad, meanwhile, kneels down behind Forever. He doesn't say anything, but he places a feather-light hand on Forever's back through the bars, oh so gentle and wary of his claws.

And Phil? Phil stands off to the side. He gives the two of them plenty of room, refusing to crowd Forever and send him into another fit of panic; but his shield is still strapped to his arm, and his axe still hangs in his hand at his side.

He won't hurt Forever. God, no, he won't hurt Forever, but Phil---Phil needs something to hold onto right now.

At last, Cellbit reaches through the large gap in the bars, holding out the syringe in an open hand. Forever sits and stares at it, throat bobbing in half-aborted sounds of doubt. He doesn't move to take it.

Phil shifts his wings. They'll hold him down and administer the antidote themselves if they have to, but no one here wants to force it on him. He's been through enough.

Thankfully, Forever finally uncurls himself from his corner just long enough to take the syringe. His fingers tremble around it so badly that Phil is afraid he'll drop it and the tube will shatter on the floor, spilling the precious medication, but he doesn't. He takes syringe and jabs it through the pearl-white fabric of his sleeve and into the meat of his arm and sinks the plunger.

Silence.

And then Forever howls. The sound rips out of him, head tipped back and tears spilling over his cheeks and jaw open wide, wide like someone reached down into his esophagus and tore his insides up and out through his mouth.

Cellbit squeezes his eyes shut and ducks away, ears pinned back. Bad knocks his forehead against the cold metal bars and makes a quiet, pained noise. Phil closes his eyes and puts a hand over his mouth and curls his wings around himself and leans on his axe because oh god, he feels like he's going to be sick.

The cry tapers off. Phil hears Cellbit hurry away and start talking to Pac on the other side of the room. Bad mutters something about the inventory scanners. Phil opens his eyes and sees Forever slumped in the corner of his cell, eyes glassy and chest rattling with every inhale. His hand lay at his side, the syringe held limply between his twitching fingers.

Phil approaches the cell and braces a hand on one of the bars. "Forever," he says. Forever doesn't so much as twitch. "Forever, can you hear me?"

Forever's gaze drags itself from the middle distance over to Phil. He blinks. His eyes flutter shut, and he sags back against the bars completely, a heap of limbs.

Phil stands there. Rubs a hand over his mouth. In the distance, there is the sound of soft, gentle Portuguese undercut by anxious mutterings. The click-clack of an inventory scanner being disarmed echoes off the walls. There's an outcry, raw and guttural. Forever's cell is dismantled with a thunk of a universal block breaker. Weeping reaches Phil's ears, muffled by an embrace, soothed by hushed reassurances.

And Forever lies sprawled out on the floor, eyes closed. Unmoving. Phil, for that matter, can't bring himself to move either. He stands, and he stares, and he breathes, and he watches Forever breathing.

"Is he okay?"

Phil jolts. He looks away from Forever to look up at Cellbit. The man's eyes are red, his mouth drawn tight.

Phil shrugs. It's barely more than a shift of his shoulders; it's all he can manage. "I don't know. I think he passed out."

Cellbit nods. "Okay. Okay." He exhales and drags his hands down his face with a shudder. "Jesus Christ, man..."

Yeah. Yeah, that just about sums it up.

[amiharana]

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

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

like what if though???

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

hhh . AHHHH . i just think. yeagh.

[moe-broey]

6/10 • Day 2 • Resplendent

I Am Once Again Presenting You -- Summer Sharena!

No thoughts head empty. Intsys. Where is she.

Actually One Thought. I want you to imagine that she's a tome or maybe even dagger user, and her weapon is that volleyball! And if you've ever been smacked square in the face with a volleyball. I want you to hold onto that feeling. Also imagine her potential attack animations being volleyball-based. It would be SO FUN AND CUTE LMFAOO

@sharenaweek

[good-wine-and-cheese]

I would be a much faster writer if I did not have to sit and synthesize immense amounts of intense character emotion like it's sunlight and I am a starving flower

[kennyomegasweave]

I get why Heart doesn't talk. I'm hard of hearing. I'm not deaf, I just can't hear super well and it will continue to get progressively worse. I'm also loud af because of that. I've had people I'm out with shush me in public places because of it and, I get why they do it because everybody doesn't want to hear me yell, but it still sucks. Because I love to talk.

So for Heart, whose parents have completely removed him from society, most likely due to misplaced shame at his condition, there's a huge chance they haven't let him talk since. He probably did try to keep talking at first and I'm guessing they shut it down because he couldn't control his volume and tone. And now he just doesn't.

Which is a whole other level of heartbreaking to me. Deaf people do not owe it to anyone to speak. But people who had hearing, for an extended period of time and not just the first few years of life, are used to talking. That's how we've been raised to communicate since birth basically. And so when people take that away because we're too loud? It hurts. So much.

I don't think he'll start talking again, nor do I think he needs to. But the fact that he doesn't, when he was hearing and speaking for 12 years, and how it was most likely a choice made for him to not "embarrass" his parents? Or make them feel guilty he got sick? And how his parents also didn't even bother to learn sign either? It's just devastating to me.

[letsgetitblog]

Excuse me.

We were supposed to get a movie that focused on Raph & Casey... For the 2012 version????

AM I GETTING THAT RIGHT?

AM I FUCKING GETTING THAT RIGHT!?!?!?!?

[magnusbae]

im crying i thought nobody will beat zagreus's odd delicious accenet and yet here she comes

[runningatypufullspeed]

WOULD YOU GUYS LIKE TO SEE MY FUGLY UGLY ASS ALLEGORY OF THE CAVE X FAHRENHEIT 451 CROSSOVER DRAWING THAT I WAS FORCED TO DO FOR SCHOOL….. ITS SO UGLY AND MONTAG IS

WHITE.

AND THE HOUNDS ARE DISGUSTING THE COLORING IS SO SHITTY AND MILDRED …. Well ok she looks alright kindof but the COLORING ….. SKETCH WAS BETTER but do you guys. Do you still want to see it…….,,,,,,

ALSO NO OFFENSE TO WHITE PEOPLE PLEASE I LOVE YOU GUYS 🫶😁👍 within reason

[biohazard-inevitable]

I think I’m going to explode I can only babysit so many anxiety spirals at a time universe why do you test me so