#thank you so so so much for sending in the prompt <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[lexiluxray]

your rendition of sycamore is scrumptious, I eat it up every time

Fhfhfhf thaaaanksss I hope I'll keep feeding you well 🧡🧡🧡

As I'm not immune to compliment on my artstyle on a character I adore, I feel the absolute need to draw said character MORE each time I'll receive an ask about it u_u

[lazybakerart]

a cute harringrove thing for you: billy being in the middle of trying to do something but he keeps shaking away bits of hair that get into his eyes and steve just comes up behind him, puts his hair into a bun, then casually goes back to where he was while billy's stunned and blushing before he returns to his task with a big grin on his face

The AC's out.

Billy's cracked the unit open with a flathead screwdriver he found under the sink and a few choice words. July hit hard. Sweat drips down his nose as he tries to fix and not kick a heavy metal box down three stories.

In the small kitchen just a few feet behind his hunched back, Steve's popping more ice out and yelling at the radio - a Dodgers game has gone to shit.

Billy swipes his sweat-stuck curls back just to have all of them tumble right back in the way again.

Summers always leave Billy regretting growing out his hair.

He hadn't meant to. A couple months without a haircut grew into a couple years where a couple of half-assed snicks with the scissors he uses for zip ties and toe nails were all he made do with. Every year he forgets how much of it there is when summer arrives to remind him.

Snapping back up, screwdriver in a vice-grip, Billy yanks his hair back with both hands and yells FUCK YOU at the stained popcorn ceiling and his own mane fried with West Hollywood humidity.

"What's wrong now? What happened?" Steve has the honest nerve to say after over an hour of this.

"I'm shaving my head."

A deep sigh and Steve's opening some cabinet that creaks and needs to be oiled - the deal when they first moved in was Billy dealt with the electric shit and Steve got everything that wouldn't have him sizzling when he got distracted.

Plumbing means rock, paper, scissors comes out and goddamnit if Billy doesn't lose every single round.

He and the plunger have built a relationship.

Billy blames dying and coming back with fried nerves and a second-rate case of stigmata making his every joint he's got stiff, his hands getting the worst of it. He'd be a lousy second coming anyways.

"That time of year again, huh?" Steve says.

He stands behind Billy, swatting away his frustrated steel-grip to comb through Billy's curls, pulling them back and away.

"There are these things - they're called hair-ties," Steve gently pulls Billy's hair through elastic, "And I know you like using rubber bands because you're a freak," Slowly he winds Billy's overgrown hair around, "But these are, like, at least twice as good. Now, we just twist," He twists, "And twist some more and - boom! Done. I'm awesome."

Steve spins Billy around by the shoulders twice, his sweaty feet squeaking on the scratched up oak floors. He holds Billy in place, sweaty hands on Billy's sweaty nape, sweaty thumbs running circles, and it doesn't seem to matter much to him that the AC is broken and they're reaching the peak 90s on the thermostat.

Steve's looking at him.

All tender.

All sweet.

A little tipsy from better beer than they chugged in high school. It's been seven years since they hit the highway and left Indiana for good. Three more months and five more days and they'll hit eight.

"Oh no." Steve croons at him. Smile turning cotton soft. Those sweaty hands move to cup Billy's face and those running thumbs rub just under Billy's eyes. "Why are we crying?"

"It's hot." Billy says.

Pinching his ears around his piercings, Steve tells him, "You're hot."

Billy sniffles. Snot drips, meets his upper lip and Steve wipes it off - eight years worth of tears and snot and blood and spunk and so much sweat.

And so much fucking good shit.

From an open window in their cramped apartment, a slice of warmed July breeze catches on the back of Billy's newly bared neck. He tosses the screwdriver somewhere.

"And," Steve pecks him on the lips, bites at his nose to make sure Billy gets heat-stroke, "You've got a great ass."

The AC can wait a little longer.

[startanewdream]

A while ago you wrote older jily telling Sirius about their 2nd and very unexpected pregnancy. As it was on fool day Sirius didn't believe them.

Could you write a sequel with Sirius understanding it's not a joke? (If you think that a caustic remus should be a witness of this all, i wouldn't mind😁😘)

For you, Zin , hope you enjoy this pure *chaos* down here❤️ (first part)

***

With a flick of his wand, James sends all the dishes to the sink. "I'll take care of them in the morning," he promises.

Lily nods lazily; she stands up, moving to the liquor cabinet. James beats her to it, waving her to sit again. She almost laughs; hopefully, in a few days, his overprotective care will subdue.

In front of her, Tonks—well, Lupin, technically, but Lily still sees her as Tonks—winks at her.

"This one was the same," she says, nudging her husband. "Usually made a mess because he didn't want me to do anything."

"You were nine-months long, it didn't seem natural that you could move at all."

"I couldn't be more clumsy than I usually am—I nearly broke your front vase, Lily, sorry."

James chuckles. "It was a gift from Sirius, we wouldn't mind."

The man in question lifts his eyebrows. "You said you had loved it."

"No, what I said is that I could see you loved going for shopping in IKEA."

"I'm man of good taste."

"I find that hard to believe—how is the refurbishment of Grimmauld's Place?"

"That place improved a lot since I took down my dear mother's portrait."

"You mean since we took it down—two hours worthy of charms and I didn't get offered any beverage—"

"Speaking of," Lily begins, deciding that interrupting them is the best course; it's late after all. "Weren't you going to offer our guests a last drink?"

James flushes. "I don't think Sirius can be considered a guest anymore. He's part of the furniture by now."

"The nicest furniture," Sirius agrees, unashamed, accepting the glass with liquor that James offers him. He tastes the drink, then looks at James finishes serving Remus and Tonks, before closing the liquor bottle. "You forgot yours."

"Oh, I'm not drinking. Solidarity and all." He winks at Lily, who blows him a kiss in answer.

"Not drinking? Lily needs her sleeping juice."

"I do not," Lily says dignifiedly. "And I should drink in my current state."

Sirius rolls his eyes. "Are you two still keeping that joke?"

"What joke?" Tonks asks, curious.

Lily sighs. "Dear Padfoot is under the impression I'm not really pregnant."

"You cannot be pregnant," declares Sirius, as if it's obvious. Tonks snorts.

"Well, for the things I've unfortunately witnessed between them, I'd say she can be pregnant, no question."

"Yeah." James holds the back of his neck, his cheeks red. "Sorry about that, we thought we had locked the door—"

Remus laughs heartily. "That's how you know you are part of the family," he assures Tonks. "It's a tradition to catch them...ah... making babies, I guess."

"To be fair, it only happened twice," Lily notes.

"People catching you two or the babies?"

Lily nods gravely. "If I had a child for every time someone caught us, we could have our own Quidditch team by now."

"Your own Potter's Playground," sniggers Sirius. Then he throws a reproachful glance at Remus and Tonks. "Since when are you two into this prank?"

Remus smiles innocently. "Since James promised me I would be godfather—mind you, I had to wait twenty years—"

"I am the godfather!"

"You can be Uncle Padfoot now," Remus suggests, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"No one ever called me uncle—James! I'm okay with your fake pregnancy, but fake uncle is too far."

"Sirius," Lily insists. "It's not fake. I'm three months pregnant now."

Sirius blinks; twice. "You cannot be," he says reasonably. "I would have noticed it."

"Is it?"

"I'm an Auror."

"A lousy one," Tonks teases. "Let's see—there's that glowing aura, James hasn't let her hold anything heavier than a fork, Lily didn't drink wine the whole dinner—"

"And," Remus adds, "there's the fact that she told us. To use your Auror terms, she confessed her crime."

"Repeatedly," James whispers; Sirius ignores him. He kneels suddenly as if the weight of his body is too much, and he stares at James and Lily with awe.

"Pregnant—you two are really...?" They nod. "There is another Potter coming?" Another nod. Sirius' eyes widen. "Good Godric, I can't believe, I... I am going to be a godfather again!"

"Er..."

"Not now," Lily whispers to her husband, patting Sirius' head; he is actually crying. "We have six months to get him used to the idea."

[emin-folly]

Art prompt: What happens when you give an Eobard a coffee?

Good question~! I like to think he can at least handle some, but no speedster ever truly escapes the power of coffee I thought it'd be fun to have it where, unlike other normal speedsters, users of the Negative Speed Force instead get the amplifies negative effects LOL

[rattkachuk]

“So, I don’t think I’m dying, or anything, and it’s probably not that serious, but… I’m kinda bleeding. A lot.” for mattdrai

I felt this one was very dramatic lol

tw// blood + mentions of a knife

“So, I don’t think I’m dying, or anything, and it’s probably not that serious, but…I’m kinda bleeding. A lot.”

The content of what Leon had just said and the calm tone he just used do not match at all, and it has Matthew immediately bee lining towards the kitchen where Leon was doing the dishes. He had said there weren't that many, and instead of running the dishwasher he was just going to do them in the sink. Matthew had shrugged and left him to it, but clearly that was a mistake.

His mouth falls open at the wad of paper towels Leon is holding over his hand, soaked deep red with blood.

“Leon, what the hell did you do?” Matthew gasps, immediately pulling off more paper towels and

“I uh,” Leon’s cheeks flush bright red and he turns his gaze to the ceiling, “I forgot one of those knives were in the sink before I filled it up with water.”

Matthew knows the ones. It was a fancy set of Japanese knives that Brady had gotten for them last Christmas. He swore by them, and Matthew wasn’t one for much cooking, but even he could admit that they had an insane edge on them.

“So fucking stupid,” Leon mutters.

“Hey, it was an accident, happens to the best of us,” Matthew says gently, walking over to the sink to wash his hands. The amount of blood on the counter was a little concerning, but he could deal with that afterwards. Pointing to Leon’s hand, he asks, “Can I?”

Leon nods.

Matthew peels back the used paper towel and tosses it in the sink, grabbing a fresh dry sheet to pat the blood away from around the cut. It’s at least an inch, on his palm just under his thumb, but the way it keeps bleeding makes it hard for Matthew to really get a good look at it.

Matthew shakes his head, and presses the paper towel down against Leon’s palm, holding it tight between his two hands.

“Ow,” Leon winces, but doesn’t pull away.

“Sorry, babe,” Matthew frowns, “Let’s keep some pressure on it for a bit, but I think you might need stitches.”

“Great. The med staff is gonna love me.”

Matthew looks Leon over and sighs. There’s blood on his beige t-shirt and somehow on his neck, he’s holding his free hand up in the air so he doesn’t get it anywhere else, and Matthew notices how it’s trembling.

He quietly sidles into Leon’s space a little more.

Out on the ice, Matthew was good at causing shit and taking up space, but here with Leon he had learned to do it with a gentleness that he had always been led to believe wasn’t in his power–or that it shouldn’t be. He comforts the way he knows how, kisses Leon’s forehead and rests his lips there for a moment, “You gonna be okay?”

“Yah. It's just embarrassing,” Leon admits, meeting Matthew’s eyes with a sorry smile, “How are you so good at this anyways?”

Matthew doesn’t answer right away, slowly letting Leon’s hand go from his grasp to peek at the gash again. It’s still bleeding pretty profusely, and he was probably going to have to get some gauze from the bathroom and wrap it up before they went to the hospital.

He thinks back to being a kid, how many scrapes and bruises his siblings and him had amassed, and being the oldest, he had to have some kind of knowledge on how to fix things, “Ah. You can thank growing up with Brady and Taryn for that. Mostly Brady.”

Leon nods thoughtfully, takes a long time before he answers, “Hm. Not thanking him for those knives, though.”

“No,” Matthew agrees, an amused huff of laughter leaving his lips, “Not for the knives.”

ao3

[lemony-snickers]

petrichor for the prompts please? It’s currently storming and my are is under nearly every watch/warning imaginable right now (thunderstorm, flooding, and tornado being the big ones). Remembering that there’s new growth and life springing up around me helps me during gloomy days like this.

I’m happy to see you writing again, lem. It brings me joy.

Sending you warm and cozy thoughts full of your favorite warm beverage, blanket, a fire, and a beautiful view 💜

(aaah, stay safe! we had hail & massive thunderstorms here over the weekend and it was pretty scary! i hope it passes quickly and that there's no real damage where you are. also, i hope you don't mind i chose our beloved yams because when i think of petrichor, i think of forests, and, well, you can probably figure out the rest, ahaha. <3)

There are few things Tenzo likes more than being in the forest after a storm. The fresh smell of rain, of loam, of life bristling all around him, never ceases to induce a sensation of both contentment and excitement.

Appreciation for the humidity and the quiet, anticipation for everything new yet to come.

The moss is soft beneath him, squelching a little in places where the land dips and water has collected. He doesn't mind the wet feet, though. The one thing shinobi sandals are good for is that they drain easily. And it's warm enough he isn't concerned about his toes getting cold.

He pauses to take a long, deep breath through his nose, to enjoy the earthy scent all around him. It's like the heavy drops of precipitation have activated the world anew; awakening the dirt and the bark of the trees, coaxing them to life. He breathes it all in and feels like he is one with the forest.

Maybe his kinship with it has something to do with mokuton. Perhaps his tranquil nature and his love of the woods is all part of his complicated relationship to his own body; the cells that replicate inside him which were put there by someone else.

If so, perhaps his appreciation for nature is the only gift Orochimaru ever gave him.

The rains have been heavy in Fire Country this season, and the proof is all around him. The greenery is brighter than usual, the stems of flowers and ferns hardy and thick, brimming with strength. Birds chirp, fluttering their wings as they bathe in puddles left by the storm.

The forest swells with life, and it invigorates Tenzo on his journey. He has no destination today, no mission to complete. His time, for now, is his own, and amongst the damp leaves and sticky mud and biting insects is the only way he'd ever consider enjoying it.

The sound of an animal in the brush catches his attention and Tenzo alights easily to a tree branch overhead to survey his surroundings. At first, he thinks perhaps it's a fox--the copper fur catches his eyes between verdant leaves. But it seems much too small for a fox. Perhaps a kit, then.

Tenzo climbs down from his perch and approaches slowly, not wanting to spook the creature if he can help it. It might be injured or sick if it's wandering the forest so close to him in broad daylight, and he does not relish a trip to the infirmary if it decides to attack.

When he pushes aside the leaves, Tenzo has to stifle a laugh.

It's no fox, no kit, but a bedraggled, half-drowned looking orange tabby, who glares at him from beneath sodden, matted fur, ears flattened and hissing as it sneers.

"Got caught in the rain, huh?" he asks, smirking at the feline as it makes a ferocious rumbling sound somewhere deep in its belly. Tenzo just chuckles. "Yes, you're very terrifying. Now come here."

The cat hisses when Tenzo unzips his vest and scoops it up in his arms, but it's not as if this is any more difficult than wrangling a rambunctious ANBU squad at the bar or rousing Kakashi-senpai for a particularly early mission departure. So with minimal effort, Tenzo manages to secure the cat in his grasp, holding it firmly against his chest so he can use his other sleeve to dry the creature's head and back, letting the rest of the moisture seep into the front of his shirt.

At first, the cat struggles, digging its needle-like claw into Tenzo's forearms and chest. "Oh, knock it off, you're fine," he says, continuing to help the cat dry off. The method isn't perfect, by any means, but by the time he sets the cat back on its feet, it's much less drowned-looking than when he found it.

"There you are," he says, still chuckling, "try to stay out of the rain next time."

And then he's on his way again, marching back toward Konoha listening to the birds and the rush of water in a nearby stream, trying very hard not to let on that he can sense the cat stalking him through the undergrowth.

He's unsure whether it does so out of gratitude or irritation, but it hardly matters.

One cat to another, Tenzo doesn't find his new orange shadow to be much of a threat.

It's not until he's home he has to make a decision--leave it outside or let it in. It's not much of a decision, though, because as soon as his front door is open half an inch, the thing darts inside like it's always lived there.

Tenzo rolls his eyes, resigned to his evening. He'll put up posters tomorrow to see if the stray belongs to anyone, but for now, he's too tired and content to worry over it.

As he sprawls on his bed a little while later, the cat climbs up to join him.

"Oh, so you like me now, huh?" he asks.

The cat glares, but still settles on his chest to fall asleep, purring all the while. Tenzo's new companion still smells like the forest--like the damp earth and green leaves he loves so much.

He'll still make the posters, but it seems to him like maybe that's a sign.

prompt list for those interested. <3

[heytheredeann]

if u want, for the whump wheel - burned + illya? -@set-phasers-to-whump

Here you go! Thank you for the prompts, I love that I immediately got a bunch of Illya whump requests looool <;3 Ao3 link

He wakes to the sound of crying.

Or perhaps ‘wakes’ is a bit of an exaggeration, with the way his eyelids flutter uselessly a couple of times and eventually manage to open less than halfway, allowing him a glimpse of his surroundings.

There’s a lot of light, and a figure hunched next to him blocking most of it out.

Cowboy, he recognizes, just as he registers that he’s lying on his stomach, his head floating and his body awfully heavy in contrast. He can’t put his finger on what happened, at first, but it ceases to matter the moment he fully realizes that Solo is crying. He’s hunched on himself, stifling his sobs in his palm, his full body shaking with the force of it.

As alarmed as Illya is, shock running through him in a wave, he can’t manage to do anything about it, his lips parting slightly and his fingers twitching, but the rest of his body staying locked in place.

He’s sorry, Solo is saying, choked out between a sob and the next. Illya can’t imagine what on earth he’d have to be sorry for: they are both clearly alive, aren’t they? He can see ugly bruising looming on his eye, swallowing a good chunk of his face, but it will heal.

“I should have talked,” Solo is saying, his voice shaking as he hides his face behind his hands. ��I’m so sorry, I’m such an idiot.”

Illya remembers it now, if vaguely. The burning pain, his own screams tearing through the air, the shock setting in as the pain kept coming and coming without reprieve. He remembers Solo pleading, screaming for them to stop, with a level of desperation that he had never seen him display before—Illya wasn’t the one with the information they wanted.

Gaby was the one tasked to go with their target, keep him safe until the extraction arrived. Solo was the one tasked with smuggling him out to begin with. Illya was just the diversion.

Don’t be stupid, Illya wants to say. He wants to get up, gather him close and let him know that it’s alright, that he understands and he did the right thing. He wants to say as much, but his mouth won’t move and he can’t gather enough air to speak anyway. We would both be dead if you had talked. Gaby too. You did well. We are okay.

Solo sobs harder, like he somehow heard him and he’s expressing his disagreement. Illya feels phantom burning pain on his back, hurting from every involuntary shift of his body, and he thinks he understands.

It’s okay, he still wants to say. It’s okay, I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse. It’s not your fault.

He’ll tell him, later. Once keeping his eyes open won’t be so hard and his head won’t weigh so much.

spin the whump wheel and send me a prompt + a character!

[stunie]

Hello there!^~^

I’m new to tumblr so Idk how making a request actually works but could u write some scenarios/hcs with multiple characters (u can choose them but plz add Suo too:) in which the boys are jealous because reader (which they have a crush on) is spending way too much time for their liking with another member. Little do they know that reader is actually asking their friend about how to confess to the boys ;)))))

So later the boys come and confess to the reader and tell her how they love her:>>>>>

hiii there nonnie my love!! 🤍 no worries at all thank u for being here 🥺 my requests are closed right now but i just told another anon that i’dd still add their prompt to my wips (u can see the list here!)

so ima add yours to it too! i always update it so u can check it whenever u want (:

[demonzoro]

11 12 13 for fic asks

finally got the chance to sit down and rest T_T thank you so much, pingo!!

11. Do you write scenes in order, or do you jump around?

i write scenes in order! i like extending my metaphors/symbolism over scenes, doing callbacks when i can and establishing some cohesion through that, so i'm quite hesitant to jump around. when i bullet-point my outlines though, i ping-pong around, often starting at the middle/end then building around it.

12. Do you outline your fics? If yes, how detailed are your outlines?  How far do you stray from them?

i do! i try create a skeleton of every scene, which can be a single paragraph to several. i usually start with a volley of dialogue that inspires the rest of the scene. pacing, body language details, scene, ambiance all build off the conversations. i stick to these outlined convos pretty loyally, but may add or rearrange things for pacing.

13. Do you listen to music while you write?  If yes, what have you been listening to recently?

i'm utterly incapable of listening to music with lyrics in them while writing... i usually put on ambient noise or if i'm really trying to get into a certain tone/mood, a playlist of instrumentals. i remember liking these pov playlists by selena for awhile

fic writer asks - send me a number 💌

[theangrypomeranian]

boblin + 7 🥺

coming right at you <3 "Lin." "Yeeeeeessssss?" Bob sighed and rubbed at his temples before holding a hand out. "Lin, come on. I need my shirt." Linda huffed and held the shirt tighter to her chest, sticking her tongue out at him. "Go get another one!" "But that's my work shirt," he protested, taking a step towards his wife. "That's the one I always wear to work." "You have dozens of other shirts!" Linda protested, gesturing towards their closet as she took a step back. "Wear one of them!" "But I want that shirt," Bob whined, blushing when he realized how much he sounded like one of their kids. Still, it was his shirt and he didn't understand why she wouldn't just give it to him. "Bobby, please." She gave him her best puppy eyes, her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. "It's my one day off and I wanna wear this shirt. It smells like you. Please?" Damn it, how could he say no when she put it like that? Plus it was always hard to tell her no when she looked at him like that. Some would have called him whipped, but he'd rather be uncomfortable in a different shirt for just one day than make her sad. But of course he couldn't let her know that, so he let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "Fiiiiiiine. Just this once." The corners of his lips threatened to betray him, though, as they desperately wanted to twitch up. The elated look on her face made up for it all, as did the way he got to see a flash of her boobs when she pulled the shirt she was wearing off and tugged his shirt over her head. What could he say, he'd never been good at resisting her.

[noworneverphantom]

hey could you do the "holding them while they sleep talk" prompt for Willex for the fluffy laying in bed prompts???

Alex was holding Willie close to his chest as Willie slept on top of him. They had enjoyed a day of Willie trying to teach Alex to skate, ending in disaster a few times, and had decided to crash back in the studio when they were done. WIllie had curled up on Alex's chest like a cat, snuggling up to him. He had shortly fallen asleep, and now Alex was gently stroking Willie's hair and watching them sleep with a fond smile.

Willie mumbled something in his sleep and shifted his head so that he was nuzzled closer to Alex. Alex just smiled and looped an arm around Willie's shoulder to hold him closer. Alex had found out very quickly that Willie mumbled lots of incoherent things while they slept, but Alex adored it.

Neither of them were quite used to affection like this with each other, but it felt so natural when they did curl up close. So when Willie reached out in their sleep for Alex's hand, Alex got a little flustered. He tangled their fingers together, and when Willie let out a little content hum, his heart melted a little bit. Willie was just too adorable when he was being wholesome, especially when he was being wholesome in his sleep.

Alex nestled his head on top of Willie's, and inhaled deeply. Willie smelled like safety and love, and he could never get enough of that. It was one of his favorite things in the world. Alex closed his eyes as he felt the pull of sleep. He gave Willie's hand a squeeze and kissed the crown of his head. "Love you," he whispered softly.

And right as Alex was beginning drifting off, he heard Willie whisper, "love you too."

Yeah, Willie sleep talking was definitely one of Alex's favorite things.

[https-furina]

my fingers are typing. they have never typed so quick before. taptaptaptaptap i love u all

[flockrest]

nonverbal prompts / accepting / @gloryseized

aid help them with a task. from Link to Tulin

     A good warrior always pays attention, and always closely observes their surroundings for potential scrimmages. Not that he's being a warrior right now — or that he needs to be at a time like this — but he figures the ways of the effective warrior, as decreed by Dad would apply here, too.

     It's with wide eyes and a beak shoved in too-close that he watches Link go about his culinary doings, noting all the motions he makes with the cooking pot and the ingredients he throws into the cooking stew. A faithful student, 'cept maybe he's also being an annoying one; not for the first, second, or even sixth time, Tulin finds his feathers brushing up against Link's side again. Oops.

     "Sorry!" he strains to whisper, withdrawing. Just for a beat or two, though. He's back to pushing himself into the process in a way that is definitely not helpful before long.

     How else is he gonna learn how much rock salt he should be adding, or what colours the soup should be turning, or how many times he should be stirring, and so many other cooking things he'd totally mess up ( has totally messed up ) 'cause the most cooked thing he's ever made involved— like— four steps!

     This is an important dish, for an important person! Botching it once alone is fine, whatever, but botching it when he's got the amazing chef that is Link here to learn from? When he asked for Link's help in the first place? Embarrassing to the highest degree.

     He tries reviewing all the steps he's seen so far in his mind's eye, determined to commit them all to memory, only to hit a snag every time he tries going past the fifth one. Then it's past the fourth step, 'cause he's suddenly confused and doubtful. Then it's the third step.

     "Uhh, Link?" he cheeps, high and warbling. He can't help the wince that pinches his beak when the whole recipe, even unfinished as it is, falls to its last pieces in his head. Why is remembering archery rules and forms and tips and basically everything 'bout being the best archer ever easier than this? "I know I said I only needed help learning, but— d'you think we could just," he shakes his wings at what will no doubt be a real delicious stew, "use your food?"

     Mum would at least have a chance of recovering something from her sickness with Link's cooking. She's only lost stuff like her guts with Tulin's.

[sapientiiae-a]

@matriarchsdevotee asked: “ why should i trust you? ” question prompts | accepting

That was a hard question to answer. It was no secret that the relationship between the Gerudo and the Hylians was strained, to put it lightly.

Now Zelda stood before Nabooru, claiming that the Gerudo King had turned against his people and threatened to bring calamity to ALL the races of Hyrule. Even if Nabooru had an inkling of distrust in Ganondorf, it must have been a hard pill to swallow — especially when the Princess of a detested race was the one bringing the news.

“As a child I experienced multiple premonitions that lead me to believe that Ganondorf intended to betray my father and the rest of Hyrule. It was something I warned Link of, but we were forced to flee the castle before he could return. Ganondorf attacked and took over the throne. I would not have requested that Link go on his mission if it were not for those prophetic dreams,” she explained, hoping she would be able to convince Nabooru to trust her. “And I would not have the gall to stand before you now if I thought Ganondorf had the best interest of your people in mind.”

Ganondorf’s rule did not mean freedom for the Gerudo. No, Zelda felt certain if he were to gain control of the rest of the triforce it would lead to the damnation of all — the Gerudo included.

“I know the wellbeing of your people means as much to you as my kingdom means to me. Help me restore balance to Hyrule and I will do everything in my power to help you restore the peace your tribe deserves.”

[vulpinesaint]

classmate who told me that they thought i might be a poser bc i wore "too much black" a couple weeks ago told me this week, slightly horrified, that they thought i might be "kind of a dark person" after i delightedly scrolled through stick figure violence images to show them + our other group member. no matter what at least i am still fucked up and strange in the eyes of normal people...

[iridescene]

✐ hi Iryth!! black, or red! you can do my name or a quote from gintama you really like, i hope you are doing well :3

Send me a ✐ and I'll handwrite a prompt/word/quote of your choice in a color of your choice.