#that would be adorable lol

[adrift-in-thyme]

I've got so many wips rn and what do I do? Start something new. I'm hopeless. But how am I supposed to resist the chance to write more fairy Time? ;)

CW for blood and injury

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He drags himself to the fountain.

The battle would have been difficult for nine heroes. For one — even one as experienced as himself — it had been nearly impossible. A fight hardly even worthy of being called a battle. 

No, Time thinks, grim and dizzy, as he digs his fingers into the dirt and attempts to sit up, it had been a pathetic struggle at best. He had barely escaped with his life. 

The Shadow, it seems, has a vendetta against him. Not that he doesn’t have one toward all of the Links, but…

Time’s efforts land him back on the ground, shuddering as wet coughs tear through him. 

…but it had felt like something beyond his usual distaste for the Heroes of Hyrule. As he had poured monster after monster through those cursed portals, as he had attacked with a sneer on his lips and a glint in his eyes, it had felt personal.

Perhaps, that is not so surprising. 

Wavering, Time grits his teeth. Blood trails down his chin. Its warmth is in stark contrast with the icy chill that has taken root in his bones. 

The Shadow’s sentiments hardly matter right now. It is not as though he could decipher them correctly if he wanted to. 

His thoughts are scattered and panicked, his body failing, his vision going gray. He is mere inches away from salvation, from safety, and his time is running out. 

Another stab of pain imprisons him in its steely grip. A muffled cry breaks through his tightly closed lips. His vision whites out for a moment, before returning fuzzy and distorted. 

Desperately, he reaches out. Trembling fingers slip, slick with blood and monster gore. He collapses with a small splash. 

The effect of the sacred water is instant. A ripple of magic runs through him, warm like a blanket and sweet like the sugar water he offers in hopes of regaining his fairy. In the next second, wings unfold from his back, his body shrinking to fit them.  

He slips fully into the embrace of the shallow waters. 

Time ends up on his side, liquid seeping in through the chinks in his armor and beading upon his wings. He blinks, slow and agonizing, trying to drag himself back to some semblance of awareness. But whatever delirious strength had born him here has fled and taken everything with it.

The water flows around him, glittering and cool. Gently, it soothes his injuries, carefully, it numbs them. But it’s not enough. He knows that now.

This fountain has been weakened. This fountain has no fairies left — save for himself — to imbue it with blessed strength.

No doubt, the monsters have driven them away. He can feel their distress, can imagine their flight, away from here and the encroaching darkness of evil and night.

Time gazes at the surrounding trees. They are mere shadows now, hazy and grayish. Twilight is long gone, bringing with it its brilliant purples and pinks and oranges. Storm clouds cloak the usual speckling of stars and block out the dismal light of the moon.

Not that Time minds that. Without its depressive glare, he feels calmer. 

If he has to fade away, he would rather do so beneath an angry sky, curled in the fountains that have always been his haven, in the form he feels most comfortable in. The form he cannot comprehend, yet treasures all the same. 

The waters turn black with his blood, feathery wisps of it floating out and away from him. He watches it with disinterest. Everything feels far away now. Even his need to survive, to return to Malon. 

He tries to grasp for it, to bring it back to the forefront of his mind. But his efforts are for naught. And what good would it do him anyway? He is too weak to move. He spent his remaining energy on the desperate gamble of stumbling here. Hoping, praying that the magic he felt calling him was still active. Was still alive.

Something rustles in the bushes. A creature, most likely, scampering about, unperturbed by his wavering presence. He is so small now he would be surprised if anyone could see him. Or hear him.  

His blood, however, is another matter altogether. Who knows what beasts have tracked the scent? 

He shifts slightly and a groan slips out before he can stop it. It doesn’t matter though. Whatever horrors seek him cannot measure up to the pain he is already enduring. The Shadow has the power to turn one’s own body against them. No wolf or bear has that ability.  

Something large and dark emerges from the shadowy foliage. Piercing blue eyes glare into his. Time tries to focus on them, tries to decipher their strange familiarity. But the world seems off-kilter, pain turns everything distant. 

I’m sorry, Malon. He thinks as the form moves toward him, looking to his fading eye almost like the clouds that hover above them. I’m sorry that I broke my promise.

And pup…I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.

“Time?” He hears the voice from very, very far away, growled more than spoken, a rumble like thunder before a downpour of rain. It cracks at the end, splintering like his bones when the Shadow had swung his sword too high, too fast for him to evade.

Time wants to drag himself up, wants to comfort this being he is certain he knows. But he lacks the strength to so much as raise a finger. 

And when he is lifted with a gentleness he cannot comprehend, when something soft and warm envelopes him, something that murmurs, “safe” in tones he knows — he doesn’t even attempt to break free.

If this is death, it is wonderful. ---------------------------------

He must lose himself soon after that. Because when he opens his eye it is an act of awakening, surfacing from the unfeeling deep. 

Time stirs, sighing as that same warmth of before embraces him. The pain that had torn him apart has dulled greatly, leaving behind only a ghost of what it once was. And though he isn’t certain why it’s gone — or even if that is a good omen or bad one — he can’t truly bring himself to care. 

He is comfortable here, drifting in this haze of dark, and he doesn’t want to disturb it. It has been so long since he felt like this (perhaps, since the start of the heroes’ journey). It has been so long since he slept, actually slept. 

“Old man?”

Something damp and cool nudges at him. His bed of plush fur (fur? His mind questions blearily) quivers at the movement. 

“Hey, old man. Can you hear me?” 

Time hums, a low sound that grates on his abused throat. 

A sigh of relief. His sanctuary shifts again. 

��Thank Hylia. I thought we’d…I thought…”

Time frowns. There it is again — that voice he knows, usually so strong and joyful, not shattered like broken panes of glass. The voice that ignites something in him, a protective instinct as strong as he feels toward Malon. The voice that reminds him of their love and the miracle that will come of it.

Reluctantly, he drags his eye open. 

At first, he can make out very little. But a few blinks and his vision clears enough that he can see the thick gray fur that surrounds him. He is nestled on Twilight’s back, he realizes, sluggishly, situated so his pup can keep an eye on him, even reach him if he cranes his neck. 

Those crystal blue orbs meet his and there is something broken in them. Time has never seen such emotion in a wolf’s eyes before.

“I thought I’d lost you.” 

He shouldn’t be able to understand that sorrowful growl, and yet, Time can hear the words as clear as day. 

That…is a mystery he will decipher later.

“‘M sorry, pup,” he croaks. His wings flutter gently. “‘M sorry.”

Twilight must have found him lying there in his own blood, hardly clinging to life. To have come upon such a sight…

Guilt wells within him. Time swallows against it.

Twilight shakes his proud head. 

“You can’t scare me like that. I can’t even scold ya like you can me.” He narrows his eyes. “Not that that’s gonna stop me from trying.”

Time huffs an attempt at a laugh. “I don’t…don’t doubt that.” He grows somber once more. He feels unconsciousness tugging at him again. But before he falls, he must at least say this. “You saved me. You shouldn’t-shouldn’t have had to. But I thank you for it.”

Twilight gazes at him for a long moment. “Of course. I love you, old man. Malon loves you. I never would’ve left you there. I never even entertained the thought. So, no thanks are necessary.” He cocks his head. “Although, gotta admit I’m a little sore about the fairy secret.”

Time resists the urge to roll his eyes. “You keep your own transformation a secret. Why…why should I not keep mine?”

“Oh, you can keep it from everyone else if you want. Just not from me.”

“What makes you s-so special?”

“I’m your descendant,” Twilight answers drily. “So, how do you do it? This isn’t an after-effect of what they…what happened to you…is it?”

Time shakes his head. “No,” he murmurs, struggling to stay alert. “I’ve always been able to do this.”

Twilight is silent for a moment. Then, “I came across a stray fairy when I was trying to get you back to camp. She was the one who healed you. She called you a child of the fairies. Not ‘brother’ like Hyrule. Their child.”

Time stares dazedly at the shrubbery surrounding them. They have always called him that. Even Tatl had. But hearing it now, from Twilight, raises new questions. Questions he supposes have always been there, hovering in the back of his mind. But that he has never bothered to ponder. 

The quiet stretches and Time can’t decide how to break it. So, he merely lets it be and snuggles deeper into Twilight’s fur, suddenly immeasurably grateful that his descendant’s secondary form is a wolf.

Powerful and gentle in equal parts. It fits his pup well. 

“But never mind that now,” Twilight says, as though sensing Time’s exhaustion. He sighs. “You need your rest. You comfortable up there, old man?”

Time nods. “Soft,” he mumbles, drowsily. 

Twilight nuzzles him again and humor is in the movement.  

“Good. Go to sleep then. I’ll watch over you.” His tone grows serious, unyielding. “Nothing will touch you while I’m here.”

A slight smile lifts the edges of Time’s mouth, even as a voice cries out within him, protesting this display of weakness, this terrible burden he has put on his descendant. But he is so, so tired. Too tired to rise and be the stalwart leader he knows he should be. 

His wings spread flat upon his back, like a shield. Darkness crowds his vision, numbing his thoughts and weighing down his still-sore limbs. 

“Thank you, pup,” he whispers, with what little strength he has left. 

He is gone before he can hear Twilight’s reply.

[ahyperactivehero]

personally, i think we don't give jenny enough credit. she took in two very obviously underaged people, dealt with all of their strange habits like yelling to themselves or "using" her shop as a hangout spot or cussing out her customers or even their strange lack of boundaries with her, survived an implied serial killer date, and was willing to follow crystal with a knife when she thought she was going to confront her abusive ex.

jenny deserves the world and i hope we get season 2 so she can have it

[technically-human]

Bisexual crisis Crystal edition

[kijeu]

happiest birthday, christopher chan ♡ 1997.10.03

template credits: x x

[kitamars]

hi ive been going through it a little bit

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 292

“Oh I am blaming all of this on you T,” one of the beings in the summoning circle groans, burying their corpse-pale head in clawed hands as their white hair flickered. 

“Me? Excuse me, I wasn’t the one to accept the summoning!” another being protested, hood hiding most of their face save for molten-gold eyes and glittering runes or code on dark blue skin. “I was trying to figure out how to convince PK to change our schedule to include more sleeping, so don’t look at me, look at S!” 

“Well I didn’t accept it,” the only girl-sounding one scoffed, her crown of thorns seeming to writhe and bloom in her black hair for a moment. She crossed her arms, narrowing green eyes just a few shades darker than the white-haired one. “Maybe talk to whoever decided to summon us?” 

All of the sudden the cultists and heroes were being peered down at by a trio of… honestly whatever they were, because they didn’t seem to be the “Infinite King” the cult had been attempting to summon. Actually, they kind-of-maybe looked like kids… Which probably meant their parents or caretakers wouldn’t be too pleased. 

[themeraldee]

How could I be mad about the flight 37 incident when we got the cutest and fluffiest looking Homie out of it

[razena8]

THIS.

JUST. THIS.

THIS IS WHO SHADOW IS. THE GUN AGENT IS IN HIS WAY, AND SO HE WILL DEFEAT HIM TO GET TO HIS OBJECTIVE. BUT HE WILL DO SO IN A MANNER THAT SAVES AS MANY LIVES AS POSSIBLE, INCLUDING THAT GUN AGENT. BECAUSE HE KNOWS THAT ULTIMATELY, THE AGENT IS INNOCENT IN THIS SITUATION. HE IS SIMPLY DOING HIS JOB AND SHADOW UNDERSTANDS THAT. HE DOES THINGS HIS OWN WAY BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN HE DOESN'T CARE ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE'S LIVES.

JUST

GAH.

[magicandmundane]

Hunter: Fuck it. Let’s go back to Kamino and adopt that kid.

Wrecker, Tech, and Echo: Adopt—? Yeah okay, we’ve done weirder shit.

Crosshair: With all due respect, which is none at this point, what the fuck is wrong with you

[ajolomuu]

i would love to see their sibling dynamic 😭💕

[saccharineomens]

In b4 Jiji comes in and blows up in popularity, I'm a Jiji/Okarun/Momo OT3 stan 🙏

[skruttet]

more pics of the moomin nendoroid

[eldritch-ace]

I love it when the teen girl lead of a cartoon gets OP powers and absolutely destroys the abusive old white guy antagonist

[snivyartjpeg]

character dynamic thing ive noticed at work

[mint-fixates]

Post-TBOB Billford Thoughts

🔻 Long-winded rambling, run-on sentences, and TBOB Spoilers under the cut 🔻

Billford is so interesting to me because it's so easy to see how things COULD'VE worked in some alternate dimension. There's a world where Bill isn't so broken and doesn't prioritize endless distractions over genuine happiness. There's a world where Stanford was broken enough to join Bill (in fact, I feel it's implied that this was one of the possible futures for Ford that Bill saw when he was summoned).

There were moments after they met where I genuinely believe Ford could've helped Bill, or at least helped him help himself. Bill opening up to Ford as much as he could about destroying his home dimension sticks out to me so much because Bill can't even handle admitting his feelings about the "Second Dimension Incident" to HIMSELF. After that exchange, there is no doubt in my mind that Bill genuinely connected with and cared about Ford, probably more than he had with anyone outside of his long-dead family. And maybe in some other universe that could've been enough to inspire some amount of self-reflection and change.

With how much Ford worshipped Bill, and how desperate for connection and notoriety he was, it's not difficult to imagine him joining Bill. I think that if Bill was honest about his intentions and all potential positive influences in Ford's life (Stanley, Fiddleford) were never a factor or were gone for good, Ford would've happily joined him. Ford always aspired for greatness, but his hero complex really only began after Bill's betrayal was revealed. With the added context of his perspective in TBOB especially, it reads to me as his way of self-aggrandizing his pain, painting his personal vendetta as something purely altruistic both to others and to himself. I find it very telling that Ford refused to burn his research or dismantle the portal entirely after it's true purpose was revealed, deciding instead to destroy Bill. He prioritized his desire for greatness over doing whatever was necessary to protect the world. Bill could have easily twisted that desire into something that aligned with his goals under different circumstances.

But in canon, none of that matters, because there is no way for them to work as partners, or even as friends, ever again. After everything Bill put him and his family through in his desperation to hold onto Ford and his plans, there is no way Ford could ever forgive him. And he shouldn't. Even if the Theraprism worked perfectly and Bill was fully redeemed, I don't think there's anything the Bill we know could do or say that would convince the Ford we know to give him a second chance. Even if there was, Bill doesn't and will never deserve a second chance from Ford.

So when I say I ship Billford I'm not saying "these two as presented in canon could have a relationship again and I'd like it if that happened", I'm saying "I believe there are several 'what-if' scenarios where they could've worked, and those scenarios fascinate me".

[tomatoart]

he’s done so much for pitbull fans