#someone tell me I’m clever

[seren-dipitous-art]

Nightwing as a flying fish mermaid, in honour of Mermay, because I am every shade of nerdy

[hauntedhowlett]

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

I always smh at people who dub Jason as “whiny” “and therefore ooc” in tt 29. If you died and all everyone did was taint your legacy, and not a single person remembered you fondly or deemed you worthy of commemoration after your death, wouldn’t you be a bit upset too?

[titsthedamnseason]

it’s not funny anymore. i need xander and spencer’s book

[milfglupshitto]

I’m like that mental illness pov gif rn sorry this is so completely unreadable but I need to borrow gayle’s visage to convey the sentiment accurately

[Image ID: The “was anybody going to tell me” meme, with the text reading “Okay, was anybody going to tell me that the song that kellin sings in ep4 was in reality written in the 1950s and its inclusion preemptively clarifies the reveal at the end of the episode that he has legitimately experienced the horrors, or was I just supposed to have it bother me for thirteen months until deciding while brushing my teeth to look it up myself?” End ID.]

[fun-with-colors]

Occasionally I remember that the Motif-Index of Folk Literature doesn’t include “clever spider” as a trope anywhere in its thousands of folkloric tropes, and my day is ruined.

[imaginarypasta]

never let it be said i don’t know exactly what i like

[euthymiya]

[ YOU SAY I’M STRONG (BUT YOU MAKE ME FEEL WEAK) — FT. KINICH ]

SYNOPSIS: kinich can’t quite put his finger on it, but he doesn’t like your new friend. you seem to put two and two together a little better than he does

WORD COUNT: 2.6k words — short n’ sweet like sabrina

INCLUDES: female reader ; mature 18+ content ; jealous/insecure kinich ; spoilers for his character stories ; references to his father’s abuse, gambling, and alcoholism and his mother’s departure ; unnecessary slander of a poor npc who did nothing wrong in canon lolll ; reader sits on his lap ; making out ; dry humping ; alludes to sex afterwards ; not proof read

Kinich knows he’s strong.

He’s gifted. Athleticism comes easily to him, he’s certainly skilled when it comes to wielding his vision, his claymore takes a good deal of talent to swing, and he’s never quite had trouble excelling in combat.

You say he’s strong, too—but not for the same reasons.

You’ve been through so much, you like to whisper.

You grew up so fast.

You’ve come so far.

For some reason, you like to measure strength differently. Kinich doesn’t always understand it—he doesn’t think he’s strong just for surviving the way you like to say. He thinks he’s resourceful, maybe. Perhaps even clever or quick-witted. Strong has never been something that’s come to mind when he thinks of the things he’s grown up around.

He was never strong enough to protect his mother. He couldn’t have saved his father if he’d tried. He never even stood up to the man when his father was alive—his only skill then was running.

Strength found him as he got older. When his weakness was tiresome and burdened him enough that he needed to find his way in this world, Kinich found strength.

He’s good at running. Picking up something as heavy as a great sword isn’t too hard for him. Learning how to dodge and throw a punch is easy enough. Dendro isn’t too complicated to master with enough practice.

Kinich is strong. He knows that, but today, he feels weak.

“Your eyes cross when you think too hard,” you murmur. He breaks from his thoughts at the sound of your voice, relaxing only slightly when that breathy giggle of yours tickles over the shell of his ear as you kiss his cheek and settle beside him. “Here, they’re fresh.”

Kinich likes quenepa berries. They’re easy to grow and rewarding to taste. They were his mother’s best crop, in fact. He lets his lips part as you push a few between his lips and grin.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

Something is nagging in his mind still. Something that whispers one unsatisfactory word over and over and over in his head.

Weak. Weak. Weak. You’re weak. Incredibly weak. Pathetic and weak. You’ve always been weak.

You seem to notice it too— “You’re still thinking,” you point out gently.

Tell me about it, is what you mean. Talk to me.

“I’m not sure if it’s possible for someone to ever stop thinking,” he replies smartly. “Well…I guess unless that someone is you.”

“Hey,” you huff, snatching away your bowl from him as he reaches for a few more berries. He’s smug—the deftness of his fingers makes for an easy grab at a good handful before you can properly create distance between him and your bowl. “Take that back. Now!”

“It’s a bit empty up here sometimes, don’t you think?” He pokes at your forehead, chuckling at the curl of dissatisfaction on your lips.

“Well, it’s better than having someone like you think too hard. That’s a bit dangerous,” you grumble.

He laughs. Momentarily, the voices quiet. “My quick thinking has helped out a good once or twice,” he points out, popping a few more berries into his mouth.

Sweet. Juicy like he remembers. He hasn’t had berries quite like these since his mother’s departure.

“Alright,” you roll your eyes half-heartedly, “I get it. You don’t want to talk about it.” He’s silent at that—you’re right. He doesn’t want to talk about it. But perhaps more importantly, he doesn’t quite know how to. “You know you can tell me anything, though. Right?”

Kinich doesn’t know exactly when this started. He started with a good day. Exceptional, even. Somehow, it got lost along the way.

First, you woke him up with a kiss—(really, he was awake already, but sometimes he likes to pretend to be asleep so your lips do the honors of breaking him from his slumber. A minor inconvenience of laying perfectly still for the hefty reward of your lips). Later, he landed a commission with a decent profit of mora. It went by fast enough that he could swing back home to grab you for lunch.

And that’s when it starts to all go downhill.

“Of course I do,” he answers instantly.

“Then tell me,” you pout.

I don’t know how, he wants to say. Instead, he settles with: “You know him. The guy we ran into.”

It comes out a tad bit grumpy against his will. He doesn’t completely understand what it is that makes him feel so unsettled—Kinich knows that in a fight, that man is practically a house of cards if he is the wind. And he’s strong; he knows that as much as he knows you do, too.

He still can’t shake the feeling of being so weak.

“Oh,” you tilt your head, “yes, he moved from Toyac Springs! He’s very nice, I like to help him find his way around here sometimes.”

“He gave you a hug,” Kinich points out blandly.

“He did,” you nod slowly, “he’s friendly, you know?”

“Friendly.” He tests the word on his tongue. He doesn’t like how it tastes. Like a bitter, unripe quenepa berry that’s been harvested too early.

His father tended to do that. Impatient and unyielding to reason is how he remembers his father to be, snatching berries from the vines against his mother’s insistence before spitting them out with an angry grunt.

Absolutely worthless, he’d remember hearing an angry voice spit. You can’t even grow a few decent berries.

They’re just not ready yet, his mother’s voice would waver.

Weak, he remembers feeling. Unable to stand up to his father. Unable to take care of his mother.

Oddly, it’s how he feels with you right now.

“His name is Hakau,” you say carefully, “and we’re friendly sometimes. It’s nothing like that, though.”

“Like what?”

“Kinich,” you sigh, “is everything okay?”

Something in your voice tells him you know everything is definitely not okay. But you want to hear it from him. You want the words from his mouth directly.

He doesn’t know how to give that to you. He doesn’t even know half of what he’s feeling—just that there’s a heavyweight in his throat that tastes and feels like lead when he swallows.

“Everything is fine,” he mumbles. “I just haven’t ever seen him, that’s all. I was curious.”

“And…that’s it?”

“I suppose so.”

“I don’t…” you pause, biting your lip as you study him for a moment before shifting to crawl on his lap, straddling his hips before your hands cup his cheeks. “I don’t think you’re telling me everything.”

“I don’t know what to tell,” he finally admits.

“You don’t like Hakau?” You ask gently.

“He talks a bit much,” he shrugs. “And he laughs a lot.”

“He’s a bit energetic,” you agree, smiling a little at his confession. “I guess he’s not for everyone.”

“But he is for you?” He raises an eyebrow.

Your face softens as you lean in and press a small kiss to his nose as you whisper, “I think you’re for me. Does that count?”

“You’ve never mentioned him,” he adds, refusing to meet your eyes.

“He’s not really the most important development in my life,” you chuckle, “I only see him here and there.”

Kinich is strong. Physically, he knows that. When it comes to fighting a war and hunting a saurian, he’s adept. Beyond that, all he knows to do is stand on the side and watch people he loves exit his life. Because he’s never enough.

Weak. It’s what he feels when someone like Hakau is able to smile brightly and pull you into a hug right before his eyes. When was the last time he hugged you under witnessing eyes?

Never, he thinks. He touches you in the privacy of your home where no one is there to witness the fact that he loves you.

Weak. It’s what he realizes he is when your eyes are bright and excited to see a man whose expression mirrors the same show of joy. When was the last time his face expressed that much affection for you?

He can only assume there hasn’t been a moment—not when his cold expression and distant eyes have been something he’s heard about time and time again.

Kinich is too weak at building love. He doesn’t know how to be a son who’s enough to be better for, to give up gambling and a few sips of alcohol. He doesn’t know how to be a son who’s worth staying for, who’s the reason every obstacle is worth fighting through—even when it comes in the form of a drunken slap or a slurred yell.

He doesn’t know how to be a man worthy of your love, either. Not one who can come and greet you with something as simple as a hug. Not one who can display his affection on his face from nothing but a bright grin alone.

He’s too weak for that. His heart is a muscle he’s never strengthened. His limbs are too frail to support carrying your heart in his hands, too—he’s never been worthy of your affections.

At least, that’s what his mind has always told him. He knows you’d disagree, but that’s only because your eye is trained to see only the good. You don’t look at him to search for the reasons you shouldn’t stay.

Maybe Hakau could easily be a reason you should leave, though.

“He hugged you pretty tightly,” he grumbles one last time. It’s a bit petty—you’re sweet enough that you giggle and let it slide.

“I think I see the problem,” your grin widens, “I think you’re just a bit jealous, is that it?”

“Jealous of what? His awful haircut?” He rolls his eyes.

Yes, he thinks deep down. Yes, he’s jealous. He’s jealous of the way joy comes easy to Hakau and the way it seems to roll off of him in waves at the sight of you. How easy it must be for him to love you and love you strongly. Not some weak, sorry excuse of affection that Kinich offers you loosely gripped in his inadequate fist.

You’re kind, though. Patient and gentle as your hands cradle his cheeks and force him to meet your gaze.

“There are reasons for everything, you know,” you murmur.

“You’re saying there’s a reason his hair is so ridiculous?” He asks incredulously.

You laugh, airy and bright as you roll your eyes. “No, silly. There’s a reason why I love you and don’t love him.”

“Like what?” He asks, feigning a casual tone. Please tell me, he thinks desperately.

“Like when you pretend to sleep so I kiss you awake,” you tease, kissing his jaw.

He pauses. “How did you—”

“Or when you spend your earnings after a long commission to take me out to lunch.”

“Anyone could do that—”

“Or when you force Ajaw to fly me up a mountain because I’m too scared to climb.”

“Technically Ajaw does the work there—”

“Or when you share your pillow with me when I come hog it.”

He cracks a small smile at that, letting out a short laugh as he mumbles, “You do hog my pillow a lot.”

“I can’t list all the reasons I love you,” you whisper, kissing the corner of his mouth, “but I can’t come up with a single reason not to love you. I think that’s plenty.”

Kinich is strong. He’s able to support your weight when you lean into him more, settling most of your body onto his lap as you kiss him deeply. His fingers dig into your hips, guiding you closer as he groans into your mouth.

He loves you when you kiss him, and he loves you when he can feel your body nestled against his. It’s a strong, palpable feeling he can’t deny—and he’s starting to think you feel it from him when you smile into his lips as his hand cradles the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer.

“I could tell you a couple of great reasons you wouldn’t love that weird guy.”

“His name is—”

“He talks too much. He laughs annoying. And his hair is weird.”

You giggle, burying your head into neck as you huff, “Those are all shallow reasons.”

“Okay,” he hums thoughtfully, “He doesn’t know you like I do.”

His hips roll up, and your breath catches in your throat. There’s a noticeable, sizable bulge in his pants that you can feel press against your core. He grins when you falter over him, strong arms wrapping around you and keeping you in place as he presses his own kisses to your jaw while you shiver.

“If you know me so well,” you say petulantly, “You know I hate when you tease.”

“But I actually know you better than that,” he chuckles lowly, “I know you fall apart nicer when you’re pushed around a bit, don’t you?”

His lips are back on yours, mouth warm and hungry as his tongue invades your space. It’s a brief battle—he wins and explores the parts of you he already has memorized by heart. You whine against him, damp and aching between your legs as a familiar tension builds up.

Your hips roll over his clothed cock, your cunt dragging along the erection with enough pressure that both of you pause for a moment and shiver. It feels good—it’s not enough to qualify as what you need from him, but it’s never not good with Kinich. You feel the pressure of his hard-on rubbing against your clit, and your hips roll in sync to build the light tingles of pleasure as your mouths kiss each other in a sloppy, messy exchange.

“I hate your friend,” he declares breathlessly.

“Don’t be jealous,” you tease, giving your hips a languid thrust to press harder against his cock. He groans, head falling to your shoulder as his hands grab your hips and guide your to rub against him the way he wants.

His way. He’s strong enough that you can’t fight against the pace he sets for you—not that you want to, anyway.

“I’m not jealous,” he grumbles in between moans, “I just don’t like the way he looks at you. He looks stupid.”

“I didn’t notice,” you say breathlessly, “I was too busy looking at you.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” He snorts.

You grind down against his cock once. Twice. The third time, he meets your movements, and both of you still, tense for a moment as the coil snaps and your walls flutter around nothing while his tip leaks with ropes of thick, warm cum that spoil his pants.

“F-fuck,” you whine, “Kinich.”

“So…so perfect,” he grunts, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss.

It’s needy—the way the both of you move desperately to feel the friction just a tiny bit longer to ride out the waves of your orgasms. You can feel the twitch of his cock through his pants as it dampens from the mess of cum, and he can feel the quiver of your cunt as he spams around nothing.

It’s not enough, but somehow it’s more than perfect, too. Because he’s him. Because it’s you.

“You’re supposed to fuck me properly when you’re feeling possessive,” you mumble against his chest.

He lets out an amused breath as he answers, “Yeah? Was that your plan all along?”

Kinich is strong. He flips you over easily, hovering over you as he nips at your pulse point. He can feel the erratic pace of it through the skin, earning a smug grin that his lips press into your neck.

You love him pretty strongly, he concludes—poor Hakau always stood the weakest chance.

Hakau is a random npc in the scions of the canopy im sorry for all this drama brother. You seem like a good guy I just needed someone to be the loser here for the sake of plot

[beforeimdeceased]

I would love an ellie x reader x abby fic, something super smutty, but modern day. I don’t mind unique details, I will give your free reign on those I just want something powerbottom abby x masc top ellie.

click me!

um okay. so this is actually so unnecessarily long like why did i do that also it’s terrible please don’t beat me up okay :( it’s um definitely something guys if u hate it i’ll delete it I SWEAR I SWEAR

inexperienced!lesbian (me asf) reader x ellabs, reader orgasm, lowkey mean ellabs but ignore that, i didn’t even do the request properly everyone throw tomatoes at me :(

2k words!

nsfw!

‧₊˚ 🎐✩ 🫧 ₊˚⊹♡

The time on your phone flashed 11pm, and underneath it was a flash flood weather warning. You had been watching the news closely and carefully, but even they didn’t predict this.

“I thought they said it would clear up around 10.” Ellie joins you on the couch, a bag of fruit gummies in her hand. You nod, but don’t take your eyes off of your phone. “That’s what i thought too. I don’t know, maybe I can make it home before it gets too bad.”

Just as the words leave your mouth, Abby walks back into the living room. She rips a piece of paper towel off of the stand in the kitchen, drying her hands. “Or you could spend the night here and not end up swimming home.”

Ellie snort laughs but you bite your lip. “I don’t want to intrude. Suddenly having someone else in your private space for longer than planned? Sounds overstimulating.”

Abby joins the both of you in the living room, a bottle of water in hand. She plops herself down on the loveseat, manspreading and leaning back. You feel a knot twist in your stomach. “I don’t mind having you here for longer. Els?”

Ellie tosses a gummy in her mouth before responding. “You’re a pleasure to be around.”

Abby and Ellie wanted to ease your nerves a bit, and proposed a game of two truths and a lie. Fairly simple, you tell a person two truths and one lie about yourself and they have to guess the lie. A half hour had passed and you felt yourself loosening up around them. Laughing at how ridiculous they were being.

“No, i swear it’s the truth. I shook hands with him and everything.” Ellie holds her hands up innocently, insisting she didn’t lie.

Abby shakes her head, bringing a hand up to rub her temples. “Ellie, you did not meet a robot at the grocery store. That man was probably lying to you for fun, or some social experiment.”

You giggle, watching as Ellie put a gummy to her tongue to wet it, then throws it at Abby. “Youre a jerk.”

Suddenly, Abby has lifted herself from her seat and is tickling Ellie’s sides. All of you have burst into laughter, tears rolling down your cheeks at their dynamic.

After Abby’s satisfied with herself, she lets up on Ellie, joining you both on the couch. “Okay, your turn.” Abby looks over at you, placing one of Ellie’s gummies in her mouth.

You take a moment to think of something clever, biting your lip. “Hm.”

“Okay I got it!” You exclaim.

The girls grant you their undivided attention, anticipating your answers. “Okay, so. I’m bilingual. I’m allergic to certain coins and, i’ve never been kissed.”

The two look over at each other, confusion all over their faces. “Fuck.” Ellie leans back. “I’m gonna have to say you’re lying about the coins.”

Abby shakes her head, shooting Ellie a side eye. “Seriously? The last one is obviously a lie, I mean look at her.” You feel yourself growing shy at her statement. “You guys sure about your answers?” You smile, raising your eyebrows.

They both nod, creepily at the same time, and it makes you laugh before your reveal. “I’m not bilingual! English is the only language i speak fluently, but i have been taking some Swedish lessons.”

Ellie bobs her head. “Shit, that’s cool. So wait, what coins are you allergic to?”

You don’t even get the chance to answer before Abby chimes up. “Wait, you’ve never been kissed?” She stares at you, bewildered. “Seriously?”

You nod. “I’m pretty inexperienced. I ofcourse, don’t like men, and I came out pretty late so…” You trail.

You can actually see the devious gears turn in Ellie’s mind. She looks over at Abby and it’s as if they’re communicating with their minds. You wonder for a moment if people truly do have powers, because it seems they came to a very silent agreement just now.

“Abby’s a wonderful kisser.” Ellie blurts out, smiling at the blonde. “And a pretty damn good teacher.”

Maybe they didn’t agree on everything, because after that statement Abby shot Ellie a look that could kill. Ellie just laughed it off, lovingly tapping her shoulder.

“Oh.” You whisper nervously, unsure how to respond. Truthfully, you had been admiring the two of them ever since you’d met them. You were so eager to visit their apartment tonight, making sure to spray on your best perfume. Wearing a cute new outfit that was casual but not loungey. Planning it on a day where you knew the weather would be bad, all with the hope that you’d get to spend the night.

You were also nervous, and inexperienced in this department. What if you fucked it all up?

“I’m sorry if we’ve made you uncomfortable.” Abby chimes up, noticing your body language. You were fiddling with your hands, avoiding their gaze. “I’ll make Ellie sleep in the old doghouse outside if that’d make you feel better.”

You giggle as Ellie hits Abby’s shoulder. “Hey, not out in the rain. Maybe in the closet in the hallway.”

“Oh, you’re going back in the closet?” Abby laughs which causes Ellie to roll her eyes. You watch them stick their tongues out at each other and feel warmth in their friendship.

“You guys didn’t make me uncomfortable. I just didn’t know what to say.” You blurt. The two of them stop goofing and look over at you. Ellie’s got a smug face. “Do you want Abby to teach you how to kiss?”

Butterflies, a swarm of them, rush to your stomach. You try not to look her up and down but your eyes betray you. Soaking in Abby’s tall muscular figure. The way her legs are spread open and wide like she’s daring you to sit in between them. Her blue eyes burning holes into your skin. Anticipating your answer. You bite your lip. “Yes.”

Abby remains composed, but Ellie’s enjoying herself way too much. Moving to the loveseat so that you and Abby can have the couch to yourselves. She looks at both of you, then at you, then at Abby, then at you again. “Wait, do you want me to go-?“

“No.” You say, a little faster than you mean to. “I mean, you don’t have to leave, if you don’t want to.”

Abbys only focused on you now. Eyeing you up and down as you scoot closer to her. “Here, get comfortable. Straddle me.”

You know Ellie’s looking. You can feel her piercing eyes on your spine. Watching your every move, examining you from behind. “Straddle?” You ask, a bit unsure. You’d read the word in a couple books, but never looked up the definition. You realized that was damning you now. Fucking up this very moment.

“Sit on my lap, facing me.” Abby guides you. “Put your legs outside my legs.”

So this was the tummy turning move you’d seen in porn. It felt as good as you’d imagined it would. Your hands latch onto Abby’s shoulders, looking into her pretty blue eyes.

“You okay?” She asks, hands gripping onto your waist to steady you. Her fingers are brushing against the skin underneath the hem of your shirt and the contact is driving you crazy. You just nod, too afraid to open your mouth, knowing your words will spill out. You’re everything but composed right now.

“Okay. Just let me know if i do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” She smiles.

You nod again, and establish an understanding. She moves a hand to the back of your neck, pulling you in, and places a soft peck on your lips. Truthfully, it wasn’t all that exciting but it sent jolts and waves of pleasure through your body. Your first kiss. She pulls away and smiles at you. “How was that?”

“Great- good. Grood.” You stammer. She chuckles a bit and you feel hot with embarrassment. “I meant to say- Fuck i don’t even know.”

She rubs at your sides, licking her lips and looking at you with low eyes. “Don’t worry about it, alright? You ready for more?”

“Yeah.” you breathe, head growing fuzzy from her touch. Her fucking touch, fuck. Gentle, but firm. Guiding you so carefully. So kindly.

“Okay. Open your mouth a little bit.” She whispers inches away from your face. “Yeah, just like that.”

You feel like you’re about to melt, a moan stuck in your throat, swallowed by the blonde. Her lips meshing with yours, guiding the kiss. The hand on your hip gripping tighter. She thrusts a bit, attempting to pull you in closer, and you whine into her mouth. This causes her to dig her nails into your skin, scratching at the tender surface.

By now, you’d forgotten Ellie was still in the room. You’d forgotten where you were, actually. Completely lost in a state of bliss. Her tongue on yours, teeth nibbling at your lip, touch making you weak.

She pulls away for air, and you remain leaning forward. Missing her lips on yours.

“Someone’s eager.” She teases. You bite your lip, scratching your nails on her scalp. “Sorry.” you breathe in a low voice. She shakes her head, tutting and rubbing your cheek. “Don’t apologize, it’s cute.”

Abby calls Ellie over, and you can feel her dip into the couch next to you both. Her cheeks are a flushed red and her eyes look fixated on you.

“Where are you the most sensitive?” Abby asks, shooting a small smile to Ellie.

“Why don’t we let me find out? Is that okay?” Ellie asks. You nod, breath growing heavy. There’s no fucking way this is real, you’re dreaming. You have to be. These two are working together to get you worked up.

You can sense Ellie behind you before you feel her hand slide under your neck. Fingertips on your chin, leaning your head to the side. She places a kiss behind your ear and it makes you shudder. “Fuck.”

They both laugh. This evil, menacing, condescending laugh and it’s making your thighs clench on Abby’s legs. “Ellie, you’re teasing the poor thing. She can’t handle it.” Abby places her hands on your thighs, spreading them apart as they were before.

“She can handle anything we give her, right?” Ellie’s moving her lips further down now. Trailing hot wet kisses down your neck, hands sliding up to grab your breasts through your shirt. You throw your head back, a soft whine escaping your lips.

“She’s so sensitive because she’s never been touched. Bet we can make her come without ever having to take her clothes off.” Abby’s hands begin sliding up and down your inner thighs. You feel a wetness pool in your underwear. “You’re probably right Abs. She’s already so worked up and we’ve barely done anything.”

Are they…mocking you? They’re fucking mocking you.

Ellie hums against your neck, hands slipping down to your leg, making you straddle Abby’s thigh. Abby places her hands back on your waist, hiking up your leg and making you grind against her.

You whine, head falling back against Ellie’s shoulder, but she offers no comfort or sanctuary. Hands kneading your tits while she leaves wet kisses on your jaw. “She’s probably soaked right now.” Ellie breathes.

Abby nods, admiring the way you give into their touch. So willing to be their fucktoy. She looks down at your crotch and hums. “She’s got a wet spot on her pants.”

“Such a shame. They look brand new. Now you’ve made a mess of yourself.”

It’s embarrassing to admit it, but you’re close now. The way your slick has covered your panties and is spreading all over your clit, Abby’s hands on your waist grinding you against her, Ellie’s mouth on you. Her hands on you. The way they’re talking about you like you’re not even there.

“I’m gonna-“ Can barely leave you lips before your climax hits you. You shake, dig your nails into Abby’s shoulder. Cry out an “Oh god, fuck!” and roll your eyes back as they help you ride your high.

Your body goes limp while you try to catch your breath. Everything is sensitive and you feel like you’d just seen stars.

“You did so good, baby.” Abby leans in to kiss you, and then Ellie behind you. “Ready for round two?”

Round what?

[nottsangel]

toxic theo headcannons? it’s a need😩💋

toxic bf!theodore nott hcs

pairing: toxic boyfriend!theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings: toxic and possessive behaviour, rough sex

moodboard // m.list // drabbles m.list // taglist

toxic!theo is clever, cunning and manipulative. he’s so sly with it that you barely notice his toxic behaviour

the type to say “wear whatever you want bella, i can fight” and actually mean it

if he catches someone flirting with you, he acts unbothered in your presence but later beats the poor guy until he’s bleeding

he’d get down to his level, grab him by his collar, and look him straight in the eyes, warning him that if he sees him with you again, he’ll be in even more trouble

“i don’t want to see you near my girl ever again, you got that?”

arguments with him are intense, and he’s too stubborn to ever admit when he’s wrong

if you attempt to leave him, he becomes very manipulative, insisting that you can’t live without him— convincing you that you’re nothing without him

“amore, we both know you need me, hm? tell me, who’s gonna take care of you when i’m gone?”

will deliberately start arguments because the sex is always better afterwards

if you try to talk it out with him after that, he’ll start kissing your neck and sliding his hand up your thigh, ready for round two

“theo… please, i just wanna talk about it.” “hm. later.” “but-“ “i said, later.”

so much more rough during sex after a fight. will aggressively pull your hair, wrap his hand around your neck until you feel light-headed, and spank you until his hand leaves a red imprint on your skin

tends to be very cold after the sex, with little to no aftercare as he immediately reaches for a cigarette

has your location on his phone so he always knows where you are. you don’t even know about it though, as he installed a tracking app when you were showering

his demeanour can shift in an instant, leaving you confused and hurt

one moment he’s sweet and caring, and the other he’s cold and distant

but still, despite everything he puts you through, you can’t seem to leave him, because deep down you believe he’s right— you can’t live without him by your side

🏷️ tags: @xolaylaxo @one-direction-harry-potter1 @kayleiggh @leelizzz @itzliyalupin @hvgwartss @bunnyweasley23 @watersquirtpewpewboomm @loveeharrington @demirunner @saturnmoonyy @nyctophicbtch @usuck @bigtiddywench @ecliqwze @le000xxgrd @dramaticals @thepotatopigeon @etolies-garden @rafesslxt @diaries-of-a-hopelessromantic @jllyunn @rafesgiirl @sluttychanel @blackthunder137 @rafesthroatbaby @eternalbuckley @qualitykinghologram @helendeath @i-like-pandas5 @oceandriveab

[seren-dipitous-art]

If chaos was personified I think it would be Damian. Tiny child filled with rage and equipped with far too many weapons.

They look SO CUTE altogether!!

I love this au so much. Bats on thrones makes me so happy.

[harunayuuka2060]

Crowley: It's a relief that you recovered quickly. Now, can you explain how you ended up in that condition? This is the first time something like this has happened.

MC: Yes.

MC: ...

MC: I was with my friends. They invited me to a party. They told me we were just there to have fun.

MC: Then they asked if we could play a game. They promised it would be fun, like hide-and-seek. *smiles* I had no idea it was a game meant to hurt me.

Crowley: ...

Crowley: We should call the authorities. What are their names and addresses?

MC: Please don't bother.

Crowley: But this is serious!

MC: Even if I tell you, you won't be able to do anything.

Crowley: Why not? We have evidence to use-

MC: Sir, I am not from this world.

Crowley: ...What?

Professor Crewel: They’re clever. They quickly noticed that something was off about their surroundings.

Professor Trein: Poor kid, having to endure such violence.

Crowley: ...

Crowley: We can't accept a non-magic user in this school.

Professor Crewel: Do you have a way to send them back?

Crowley: ...

Professor Trein: And I’m opposed to it. No child would want to return after going through a traumatic experience.

Crowley: But what are they going to do here?

Professor Crewel: They've been chosen by the Dark Mirror, so technically, they're a student of Night Raven College.

Crowley: But they don't belong to any dorm! And it's not like anyone would be willing to take them in!

Professor Trein: Headmage.

Crowley: ...

Crowley: Alright. I will call all the dorm leaders to discuss it.

Professor Crewel: *brought MC to the Mirror Chamber*

MC: What am I-

Professor Crewel: I can’t see why the Dark Mirror would choose to bring you here without a reason. I believe there must be something special about you.

MC: *sad smile* I would like to consider it as a coincidence.

Professor Crewel: No. Look in the mirror.

MC: ...

The Dark Mirror: ...

Professor Crewel: ...

Professor Crewel: I see. The headmage is right-

The Dark Mirror: No. You were always a part of this world.

MC: Huh?

Professor Crewel: What does that mean?

The Dark Mirror: You were, and always have been, a part of this world.

Lilia: Malleus? There's something I would like to ask you.

Malleus: What is it, Lilia?

Lilia: Will you permit another student to be part of Diasomnia?

Malleus: If the Dark Mirror has placed them here, then I have no option but to comply.

Lilia: No, that's not the case.

Lilia: The Dark Mirror did not assign them a dorm. And all the others have refused to take them in.

Lilia: We are the last option.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: The decision is yours, Lilia.

Lilia: *smiles* Then, they’ll officially join Diasomnia starting tomorrow!

Crowley: Congratulations. A dorm has accepted you as a member. You’ll need to be there first thing tomorrow.

MC: ...

Crowley: Are you feeling alright?

MC: Yes. I'm just feeling a bit anxious.

Crowley: ...

Crowley: *pats them on the shoulder; gives them a reassuring smile*

Crowley: You’re a capable individual. I’m confident you’ll adapt quickly.

MC: ...

MC: *smiles* Thank you.

Crowley: ...

Crowley: For some reason, your smile reminds me of someone. Hmm...

MC: ?

Crowley: *decides to brush it off* Must be my imagination.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Bucky and reader on a long mission where they’re a married couple attending their new “friends” wedding reception. Bucky asks the reader to dance with him, because what kind of husband would attend an event like this and not dance with his amazing wife?

Dance With Me » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader

Summary: You and Bucky attend a wedding as a fake married couple for a mission.

Warnings: Fluff, language, fake marriage, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator.

“You ready to do this?” Bucky asks as the two of you stood in front of the entrance to the venue.

“I’m ready whenever you are…” You looked up at him. “Husband.” You say.

“Let’s do this, wife.” He says.

You linked your arm with Bucky’s right arm and walked with him in the venue.

You and Bucky are on a mission as a fake married couple attending a wedding of two new “friends”. You two weren’t actually going to pay attention to the wedding festivities, except say hi to the bride and groom you two became “friends” with. You two are actually there for a flash drive that has very useful and important information on it for the Avengers.

“Look ahead.” You tell Bucky, seeing the bride and groom walking towards you guys. “Act natural.” You say.

The bride practically squeals when she sees you and Bucky, greeting you guys with a hug.

“How are you guys?” She asks. “We haven’t seen you two in a while.” She says.

“Sorry about that.” You apologized. “We were so busy with our kids that we forgot that we have a social life and friends.” You tell her, making something up.

“That’s ok.” She smiles. “We’ll catch up sometime soon. In the meantime, I hope you two enjoy our wedding as much as us.” She says, holding onto her husband’s arm.

You and Bucky gave them a nod and a smile as they walked away. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“We have kids now?” Bucky teasingly says with a playful smirk.

“It was the first thing I came up with!” You say.

“I’m not making fun of you.” He said. “I actually thought it was clever.

“Thank you.” You say with a proud smile.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles back. “Now, let’s get that flash drive, wife.” He says.

“Let’s do this, husband.” You say.

You and Bucky managed to slip out of the room the reception is in without no one noticing and walked down the hallway, looking for the room you two are looking for.

“Bingo.” You two stopped in front of the office you two need to search. “This is it.” You say in a whisper.

You put your hand on the doorknob and turned it, only to find out that it’s locked. You huffed quietly and turned to face Bucky.

“The door is locked. How are we going to get the flash drive?” You asked.

Bucky stared at the locked door for a short moment before smirking to himself. He put his vibranium hand on the doorknob and turned it just enough to break it, opening the door afterwards.

“After you, doll face.” Bucky says, gesturing for you to go in the office first.

You walked in the office while Bucky stood guard at the door. You rummaged through every filing cabinet and every desk drawer, but couldn’t find the flash drive. You were about to ask Bucky for help, but you discovered something. The desk drawer you were looking through had a little secret compartment. You opened it and found the flash drive with ease. You grabbed it and put everything back the way it was.

“Here you go.” You say, handing the flash drive to Bucky.

Bucky put it in the pocket of his suit jacket and you two got out of there before someone saw you guys. You two managed to sneak back in the room the wedding reception is in with ease. You two looked around the big room to make sure no one was looking at you before making your way to the exit.

“The coast is clear. Let’s get out of here.” You say.

“Wait a minute.” Bucky said. “May I have this dance?” He asks when a slow song began to play through the speakers.

“What?” You asked, blinking a couple times.

“What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t dance with my wife at a wedding?” He says.

You could sense his 1940s charm coming through, which made you smile. You happily accepted his offer for a dance. You two made your way to the dance floor and tried your best to blend in with everyone else. You wrapped your arms around his neck while he put his hands on your waist. You two swayed to the slow beat of the song. You two gazed in each other’s eyes while swaying to the music. Before you knew it, his lips were on yours. Your lips moved against his in sync.

“Mmm…” You hummed against Bucky’s lips before pulling away from his lips. “Let’s not steal the spotlight from the bride and groom.” You whispered.

“Good idea.” Bucky says with a small chuckle.

You and Bucky continued dancing while you thought to yourself. You’ve always heard about Bucky’s charm with the ladies in the 1940s, but never seen it until now. You have to say you definitely like this part of Bucky and you most definitely want to see it more often.

“What’s on your mind, doll?��� Bucky asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Hmm?” You asked, humming in response.

“I asked you, what’s on your mind?” He asks again.

“I was just thinking.” You answered.

“Thinking about what?” He asks.

“You and your 1940s charm.” You answered. “I love this side of you and I would like to see it more often.” You say.

Bucky dips his head down so his lips are near your ear.

“I’ll show you this side of me anytime you want. All you have to do is ask, doll face.” He whispers in your ear.

“I can tell you what else I want from you.” You say.

“Oh yea? What might that be?” He asks.

Instead of telling him what it is, you kissed him passionately. Bucky immediately kissed you back. You pulled away, looking deep in his blue eyes.

“I have to say…” You started. “Being fake married is fun.” You say.

“I agree.” Bucky says, agreeing with you.

Bucky kissed you once more before you two realized that you two are accidentally stealing the spotlight from the bride and groom.

“We’re stealing the spotlight from the bride and groom.” You say with a small giggle.

“I don’t care.” Bucky pecks your lips softly. “I enjoy kissing you.” He admits.

“I enjoy kissing you too.” You admitted.

“Then we should get out of here.” He says.

“Let’s go.” You say.

You and Bucky walked over to the bride and groom to say goodbye to them before leaving.

“We’re going to have to cut the night short. We have something to do tomorrow and we have to get up early for it.” You say, making it up.

“Oh ok. Well, thank you for coming. We should catch up sometime when we’re not busy.” The bride says.

“Sounds good to us. Don’t you think, doll?” Bucky says.

You hummed and nodded in response. You two then left the wedding and got in the car.

“I’d like to dance with you again sometime.” You say.

“We can dance again when we get back to the hotel.” Bucky says.

“Sounds good to me.” You say with a smile.

Bucky leaned over the center console and pecked your lips softly.

“Wife.” Bucky says.

“Husband.” You say.

🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

-Bucky’s Doll

[chillinglyadventurous]

Fiddleford Knows

When I read this request, my jaw DROPPED! I immediately stopped doing what I was doing and wrote this. How could I not? It’s the perfect request???

Tags: Absolute Fluff and pining!

“Hey, Specs!” You shouted as you burst into Fiddleford and Stanford’s dorm room. “You’ll never guess who just got called into the dean’s office after Honor’s Geometry.”

You plopped yourself onto Fidds’ bed as you always did when you burst in to tell him something. He was sitting at his desk with a book in hand. You glanced at the bed to your left, finding his roommate laying there with a textbook in his hands too. You gave Ford a shy smile before returning your attention back to Fiddleford.

Your friend barely looked up from his book, noticing the blush on your cheeks when Ford smiled back at you, “How do you know everything about everyone all the time, [Y/N]? This is a big school.”

“I’m observant,” you countered. You propped yourself up on your elbows, “Emma May Dixon, the dean pulled her out this morning. Apparently, someone caught her sneaking into this very building after hours.” You waggled your eyebrows at him.”I just hope whoever she was coming to see has a strong alibi. Like, I don’t know, a super cool roommate named Stanford, perhaps.” You stretched your arms above you head, “Anyways, I just thought I’d let my best friend know.” You stood up, giving the boys a wink, “Well, gentlemen, I’ll see you tomorrow morning at breakfast. I better get back to the ladies’ dorm before I get caught like Emma May. Goodnight!”

Ford rested his textbook on his chest and folded his hands behind his head, “You’ve noticed she has a really pretty accent, right? It’s not just me?”

Fiddleford looked up at his roommate. “That’s all you have to say about that conversation?” He set his own book down on his desk, “Nothing to say about me sneakin’ Emma May in here?”

“When did you sneak her in here?” Ford sat up straight. He wasn’t even a heavy sleeper.

The next morning, you found the boys sitting at a table in the dining hall. Fiddleford was having eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns. Stanford was eating a simple bowl of cereal. You scooted in next to Fiddleford with your hands clasped together. A bright grin was covering your face as you sat in front of Ford. 

“Stanford, I have a surprise for you!” He choked on his milk when you looked at him, a blush crept up his neck, through his face, and to his ears. You didn’t notice. You thought he was always red in the face. “I found it on my way here,” you opened your hands to reveal a two-headed toad. You ran a finger down its back as you met Ford’s eyes, “Isn’t he cute? He’s a little weird, just like you, but absolutely adorable.” A snicker from beside you wiped the smile off your face. You blushed then. “I mean,” you stammered, “it’s cute. You’re not cute. Well- I mean, you’re not not cute. This guy, though-  I mean, just look at him.”

A hand clamped over your mouth, your eyes wide. “Stop talking, dummy,” Fidds whispered into your ear.  “She’s had too much coffee, Ford, don’t you think?”

“Decaf is better for you,” Ford mumbled through a mouth full of cereal. A few o’s slipped from his mouth and back into his milk.

You giggled as you watched the man you’ve had a crush on for weeks wipe his chin in embarrassment, but Fiddleford’s elbow planted itself deep into your ribs, “Uh, well, boys, I better get going. I don’t want to be late for World Lit.” You placed the toad into Ford’s open hands, “I’ve named him Hopper. Not very original, I know, but I just found him a few minutes ago. Not much time to think of something clever. I’ll be by later tonight to check on him.”

Ford watched you walk away hoping you’d look at him before you disappeared. You did, “Did you see those blue earrings [Y/N] was wearing? They really brought out the color of her eyes.”

“What did she name the toad, Stanford?”

Ford���s eyebrows furrowed, looking down at the amphibian in his hands, “I’m pretty sure she said Four-Eyes. She’s very clever like that.” Fiddleford looked at him with utter disbelief in his eyes, “You see, it’s funny because I wear glasses. A common nickname for people who wear glasses is Four-Eyes. This toad has two heads and, therefore, four eyes.”

“She named the toad hopper,” Fiddleford chuckled with a roll of his eyes. He watched as Ford pet the toad lovingly on its back as if it were the greatest gift he had ever received. “Why don’t we go to the pet store after breakfast and get that little guy a proper enclosure? You can show it to [Y/N] tonight.”

Once midterms rolled around, you saw less of Fidds and Ford. You’d been busy studying and so had they. Even your weekly DD&MD campaigns had gotten lost in the shuffle, the panic of studying nonstop. When you did see them, it was often in the library. You would sit with them, your face blushing everytime you and Ford made eye contact. Unbeknownst to you, Fiddleford was rolling his eyes, completely distracted by the two of you. Neither you nor Ford could sit still around the other, often causing him to move tables. If he was going to pass any of his exams, he needed quiet.

“Fiddleford, we need to talk,” you whined as you burst into his dorm again. 

You quickly glanced around the room to make sure Ford wasn’t there. Luckily, all you saw was Fidd’s and a mountain of reference material. Normally, anything you needed to say to your childhood best friend could be said in front of his roommate. It wasn’t like you were shy. You were very open, very out going, and you didn’t care what people though. Right now, though your words were for Fiddleford’s ears and Fiddleford’s only.

“What’s wrong, [Y/N]? Are you alright?” Fidds looked concerned. Your red eyes and sad face were enough to make him worry, “What happened?”

You gave a pathetic whine again, laying onto Ford’s bed. Often you had chosen Fiddleford’s, but you required this one for what you were about to admit, “I think I’m in love with Stanford.” You held up your hand when Fidds glanced toward the stack of books in front of him. “Please don’t interrupt me. I need to get this out before I explode.” You rolled onto your stomach, your voice muffled by Ford’s pillow. Why did it smell so good? You picked the wrong bed, “He’s just so handsome. He’s so smart. Ugh-” You rolled onto your back again. You didn’t care that your long skirt was getting twisted around your legs or that your hair was about to tangle. Who cared about your appearance in that moment? It wasn’t like Ford was in the room, “And he’s so cute, you know? I just want to kiss him all over!”

You spread yourself out on his bed and looked up at your friend. “Quit looking so smug! It’s not funny!” You let out a fake sob, “And have you seen his hands? They’re so weird, like him, but it makes him so unique and beautiful.” You let out a frustrated groan, “It would be so nice to hold his hand, wouldn’t it? My hand would just feel so secure in his.” You flipped over onto your stomach, unsure of how to make yourself comfortable when you’re spilling your guts like this. Your head was propped up in your hands, “Fiddleford, you have to tell me what to do! Please?”

When Fiddleford sat back in his chair, legs crossed and his hands behind his head, you sat up, “What’re you looking so smug for? You knew for a while I liked him. It’s not like you’re learning something new here.”

Fidds chuckled, his head motioning towards the stack of books, “Hey, Stanford, what do you think she should do?”

Your breath hitched in your throat when Ford came out from behind that mountain of books. His face was beet red and his hand nervously scratched the back of his neck. A flood of emotions flowed through you. At first, you slammed your fist on Ford’s bed because you were angry Fiddleford didn’t warn you. Next, you were embarrassed because those words never would have left your lips had you know the subject of your rant was sitting right there! Third, you were sad, afraid of rejection. Finally, however, you stood from Ford’s best. You fidgeted uncomfortably in the middle of their dorm before bolting toward the door.

Fiddleford chuckled, “Go get your Princess Unatainabelle, Ford. The damsel is in distress.”

Ford hesitated for a moment before he was on his feet. He ran after you through the door you left open, too much in a hurry to close it behind you. You heard him calling after you, but you wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t  You didn’t want to hear him say he just saw you as a friend. 

He caught you by the shoulders. Looking into your eyes, you panicked, mouth moving a mile a minute, “Stanford, I’m sorry. I hope this doesn’t ruin our friendship. You’re a great guy and i just really like you. It’s stupid, i know, but I thought we got along and you don’t have a girlfriend, so-”

Your rambling was cut short. A six fingered hand covered your mouth to stop you. He needed you to stop talking, “You’re the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, [Y/N].”

[needfantasticstories]

“Many places I have been

Many sorrows I have seen

But I don't regret

Nor will I forget

All who took that road with me”

-The Last Goodbye by Billy Boyd

This is an Adjuration by @not-freyja, after 86 chapters, 300k words, and 10 months of joy, laughter, tears, heartbreak and love, has finally reached its end. 

Adjuration is a tragedy that is nothing short of an act of love. That much is clear in the passion and dedication put towards the story, the characters, and the message Freyja is trying to convey. This fic will teach you about love. About death. About the inevitability of existence and why despite knowing it will all come to an end, there is still meaning in trying and hoping and loving each other. In loving yourself. You will laugh, you will cry, you will hope and you will despair as you read this story, but you will not be able to put it down.

It’s hard to say goodbye to something that has been so important to and loved by so many people. So we won’t. Instead, we will say thank you for this incredible journey and the community this fic has built. For the friendships that have been made and the endless inspiration you have given us. Thank you for wanting to tell a story, and for letting us join you around the campfire to listen.

Thank you.

(If you like Linked Universe and haven’t yet read Adjuration, see below for spoiler free reviews of this fic and artist credits.)

This is an Adjuration is the kind of story you fall in love with, the kind of story you think keep thinking about long after you put it down. The kind you keep finding hidden details in after you think you’ve got it figured out. 

The characters are distinct and people with their own voices, motivations, relationships and histories. You’ll have your favourites but love them all. They influence how you’ll see the characters in everything else. 

It’s full of moments where everything clicks and everything before is recontextualised in a way that’s so satisfying and make the whole story very re-readable. A time travel story where all loops are already closed, where you can know but not yet understand what will happen. It’s long, complex, and beautifully, meticulously planned and detailed. It’s clever and considered, funny and heartbreaking. 

A story that whispers ‘it matters’ over and over. It is worth it to love, it is worth it if it doesn’t last forever, it is worth it to give someone a little more time, it is worth it to fight. It’s about loving others and your world and finding grace for yourself. 

It’s loss and tragedy and the cruelness of fate. It is the sacrifice and the breaking. 

Full of heart to both fill yours and break it in the best possible way. 

It’s about love. Always.

By @toyouhellohowareyou

Sometimes, it’s hard to explain to others why art moves us.

I could tell you This is an Adjuration will make you cry, laugh, and sit at the edge of your seat in anticipation. And it’s probably true - I did all of that as I read, often with a coffee in one hand, early in the morning as I got ready for the day. 

But that’s not the reason why I’m writing this.

The real reason is how it followed me during the rest of the day.

You see, at a certain point I realized this isn’t a story about Links going on adventures. Well, it does feature Links, and they do go on adventures, so let’s talk about that for a minute.

The first thing that caught my attention about this book was the characters. Each individual is unique, interesting, and exciting to follow. Not only are the Links individually compelling, but one thing that stands out in Adjuration is how the relationship between each Hero and their own worlds matter, and these connections shift, evolve, break and grow as the plot progresses.

Freyja does an incredible job of bringing together impactful storytelling with humor and heart. This is an Adjuration starts with an interesting premise, and then twists and turns in directions you wouldn’t expect. It’s rich in thought-provoking moments, soft joy and intense action, blended in with carefully crafted time travel and magic.

Adjuration sucked me into the world it builds, combining believable characters with fascinating stories, an unnervingly devious antagonist, plot twists, and lovingly crafted details that slip unnoticed until you’re surrounded on all sides. It made me cheer for characters I feel as if I’ve known intimately for years, made me worry for their safety as I would for that of a loved one, kept me hunting for hints and hidden references, pulling on a thread to try to find the end only for it to twist and loop into itself and show me a completely new side to the story.

Yes, This is an Adjuration is a fanfiction piece that explores the winding river flow of the Legend of Zelda timeline and how the stories of each Hero merge into each other. It also stands out for its heavy emotional content, and it doesn’t shy away from angst and hurt.

But to me, Adjuration is an epic journey that taught me how the choices we make, make us in turn. It’s a tragedy that deals with pain and healing, and it bares naked the non-linear nature of grief. It’s a celebration of the things that make us unique, of our flaws, an essay of the impact of little acts of love. Indeed, it’s a story about love.

I can tell you now, This is an Adjuration moved me. It still does. It has a special way to surface in my mind in unexpected ways at seemingly random times, from something as simple as tossing an apple core, to watching a lightning storm in the distance, or finding a picture of an old friend.

And every time, without fail, it makes me think about love.

By @sunny-porridge

This is an Adjuration is a wonderfully and beautifully crafted story about love, loss, and choice as the various incarnations of Link come together and travel through time. Freyja seamlessly weaves a tapestry of setup and payoff across different timelines and loops, in the best-constructed time travel plot I’ve ever seen on page or screen. Even at its surface, Adjuration is an emotional rollercoaster involving tragedy and the soft moments that make that tragedy worth it. But the deeper you look, the more meaning you can pull from every chapter of this amazing work. This work has made me cry, squeal with delight, and think more deeply about its themes all while having an absolute blast reading it. So in summary: READ IT. READ IT. READ IT NOW. YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT.

By @life-in-winter

While I love that every chapter is emotionally enthralling, with carefully woven, visceral tension you crave in any good story, yet Adjuration is more than that, and you feel it in the careful weave of each character and plot point. Nothing is lost or unanswered. It's the kind of story that, by the end, makes you stop and take a hard look at your own life. Are you appreciating the now? Are you savoring joy? Are you so wrapped up in fear that you can hardly take care of yourself? Do you know who you are?

This story is more like an external experience. It's riding atop a tsunami. How do you handle that ride, Link?

There aren't enough words to describe how amazing this fic is.

@needfantasticstories

Artist credit

Legend: @gia-d

Hyrule: @bittirsweeteer

Time: @toonblade

Sky: @noorahqar

Warriors: @whitewinterstar

Wild: @weavingstarlight

Twilight: @bluury2

Wind: @thewitchdoctor39

Four: @lunaopus

Red: @peepthatbish

Blue: @glowingmin

Green: @winterfen

Vio: @waterfallstream

Shadow: @deleetrix

Wolfie: @linkiscool333

Fierce Deity: @awildsilver

Ravio: @lele5429

Malon: @tooner-tastic

Dink: @passerinesoncaffeine

[biceratops7]

I’m gonna SCREAM-

We’ve already established as a fandom that Metatron could teach a masterclass on gas lighting, but I wanna talk about how he specifically validates the things Aziraphale cares for while simultaneously devaluing them under the surface.

First off, this moment?

Tells us everything we need to know. It sets the scene for exactly the games Metatron is playing. He makes Muriel feel important while openly insulting them (flat out calling them stupid), aka seamlessly reinforcing the idea that they’re less than to both them and anyone else in the room. He knows he can get away with this easily, he knows that Muriel, lonely, overlooked little Muriel, will be completely distracted by the fact that someone so important is taking an interest in them.

This is already horribly clever, but then later on you realize it’s doing even MORE heavy lifting when he appoints Muriel to run the bookshop. “See? What’s important to you is what’s important to me! I’ve graciously taken the time to ensure your beloved shop is looked after by Muriel. You know, the dim one!” …let’s suffice it to say he’s ensnared too birds with one net for this one, and that a pattern is already starting to arise.

So when Metatron says Gabriel came to Aziraphale because he’s a “natural leader” and “doesn’t just tell people what they wanna hear”? Yah he’s full of shit. Aziraphale struggles with his sense of purpose when he doesn’t have someone or something guiding him, and for thousands of years he’s been terrified of sharing his true feelings and opinions to 90% of people he’s known. Completely just trying to butter him up. Wanna know the real reason Gabriel seeks asylum with Aziraphale?

Exactly this. Gabriel just says so point blank. It’s not because Aziraphale is this person for him, it’s because despite knowing nothing, he has this instinct that Aziraphale is the only one who can possibly understand why Gabriel did what he did. He is, I mean as far as we know, the only other angel who has fallen in love. (In general, let alone with a demon.)

But nope, can’t have that. We can throw the promise of restoring Crowley in the mix to sweeten the pot, but we can’t acknowledge why he’d want that so badly in the first place. So now it’s cause they work so well together. We can praise the angel for the fallen archangel Gabriel himself coming to him protection and guidance, give him a gold star. But we couldn’t DARE imply that it was by virtue of Aziraphale’s courage to choose earthly love over heavenly. How Gabriel didn’t need a leader, but a friend who’s truly known the joys of adoring that “particular person” and the pain of needing to hide it.

Cause then Aziraphale would start getting crazy ideas, like that his silly little human feelings have a great deal of worth. That they have the power to inspire, form cracks in the institution, fundamentally weaken what has controlled and harmed him. We wouldn’t want him to know the true value of the cards he holds when he has the ace in a match against you, now would we? After all…

Metatron uses this ingeniously sinister tactic of taking away Aziraphale’s choice while giving the illusion that he’s actually opening up doors. Notice how he tells Aziraphale he would have the authority to do something as extraordinary as turn a demon into an angel, yet he never once puts the much simpler alternative of just working with a demon on the table? The sleight of hand here is that he’s being offered the opportunity to freely be with Crowley… but he’s already freely with him as is, no bargain to be made. In fact he fought to be. Metatron disappears this accomplishment right before our eyes, while seamlessly maintaining the illusion to Aziraphale that he (Zira) is in control.

He sets Aziraphale up for failure by only providing the option he knows Crowley will not only decline but be deeply hurt by. It’s all so cleverly planned. Once this plays out exactly how he wants, he delivers the finishing blow by diminishing Crowley and his “damned fool questions”. Suddenly doing a complete 180 and emphasizing how foolish and troublesome he is. Metatron was offering Crowley by Aziraphale’s side as The Carrot. Now he’s telling Aziraphale it was stupid of him to want The Carrot, un-heavenly.

Aziraphale’s life, love, happiness, it’s all not only a massive inconvenience for Metatron but a liability. He has successfully taken a weapon from Aziraphale’s hands he didn’t even know he had. Metatron sees the writing on the wall, and he wants it contained.