#this kind of thing used to go on twitter RIP

[belladonnaprice]

.

[matchingbatbites]

"What the fuck did you do?"

Eddie wasn't expecting hostility when he answered Jeff's phone call, his best friend's usual calm demeanor replaced with open annoyance. And yeah, okay, the annoyance itself wasn’t new, but Eddie doesn’t think he’s actually done anything recently to earn it.

"Well-"

"Actually, no. I'll tell you what you did. You retweeted photos of Steve Harrington - internationally beloved heartthrob actor Steve Harrington - along with the caption 'not to sound like a subby slut but GOD I would be his puppy baby boy in a heartbeat'. So I guess the better question is, what the fuck were you thinking, Eddie?"

Eddie's jaw clicks shut because- yeah, he had done that. Had seen those photos of Steve smoking circling the internet and spent god knows how long just staring at them, had curbed the desire to shove his hand down his pants by posting a single thirst tweet about it.

“I was thinking, Jeff, that I'm allowed to post whatever I want to my private fucking twitter, man. I mean it's a free country, isn't a guy allowed to make a horny tweet about a sexy man every now and then?”

“You are, when you actually post it to your private account and not our award winning band's main account.”

No. Oh no. There's no way Eddie actually-

He rips his phone away from his face to open twitter, and realizes two things simultaneously. One, Jeff is right, he had posted it to the band's account. Not on his private, locked, personal account, but on the account that's actually open and free for literally anyone on earth to look at.

The second thing he realizes is that their notifications are currently flooded with responses to Eddie's tweet, somehow racking up into the thousands in the few hours it's been since. 

Jesus Christ.

“Eddie?”

The metalhead jerks back into the moment and put Jeff on speaker so he can scroll through the horde of replies, says “Fuck, I fucked up. Are we gonna have to do damage control on this?”

In the mess is a reply from Gareth's own personal account: @ corrodededdie stop tweeting from the band account challenge 🙄🙄🙄

”Maybe. There hasn't been any type of response from Harrington or his people, but they might ask us to take it down if it blows up too much.“

Eddie hums, thinking they might be too little, too late about it blowing up too much, and flips over to his main account so he can reply to Gareth's little jab appropriately. He isn't surprised to see that he has a couple of new messages, probably from other people wondering just what the fuck Eddie was thinking, but when he goes to check them-

He's never been happier that he turned on messages from followers only, because then he would have missed this, missed Steve Harrington's little profile picture beaming up at him from the screen of his phone, along with a new message request.

”Jeff, I gotta go,” he says, not even realizing he's cut the other man off.

“Eddie, what-

”Harrington messaged me. I'll call you back.“

Eddie doesn't wait for a response as he hangs up on Jeff, and his hands definitely aren't shaking as he opens the message from Steve. And listen- Eddie is a fan of the guy, that much should be obvious. 

Steve had grown in popularity around the same time Corroded Coffin had; he’d gotten some part in a drama film that had skyrocketed him into stardom, and Eddie fell in love the moment he saw that gorgeous face on the silver screen for the first time. He's never had a chance to interact with the guy, has been in the same place a few times but always missed him, like ships passing in the night, but Eddie's been fine with pining from afar, just like every other person on the planet that's even remotely attracted to men.

Besides, even with how popular Corroded Coffin has gotten over the years - a couple of Grammy’s here, a dozen chart topping metal songs there - Eddie doesn’t expect Steve to just. Know who Eddie is.

With all of this in mind, Eddie is expecting some kind of semi-casual request to take the tweet down, that it's not a good look for his image-

Anything other than what Steve actually sent.

'If you're puppy baby boy, does that make me Master? Or Daddy?'

And Eddie- 

Eddie slides down, sinks into his couch cushion as all of the blood in his body suddenly shifts, rushing to fill his dick like it's a fucking race. The phone almost slips out of his hand and he fumbles it briefly before taking a deep breath. 

Is Steve serious? He wouldn't send that if he wasn't serious, right?

This could be it, could be Eddie's one chance to impress Steve, to get his foot in the door of Steve's interest. He bites his lip and types out a reply, something quick that he sends before he can change his mind.

‘I’m open to either, actually. Do you have a preference, sir?’

He doesn’t expect the typing indicator to come up immediately, and just knowing that Steve is somewhere right now, typing out a response to Eddie, is enough to have him nearly vibrating in his seat.

‘I’m partial to Daddy, myself.’

Fuck fuck fuck.

Eddie takes a breath, tries to think of a response that isn’t just ‘Please, Daddy, can I sit on your massive dick that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since that one indie film you did that just had all of your junk out in the open?’

Steve saves him by sending another message.

‘But maybe we could start with Steve, and possibly dinner? Though I’d be happy to see where things go after that.’

He- What-

Eddie must have stopped breathing, because the next time he takes a breath his lungs burn, his mid races because there’s no way Eddie’s long term celebrity crush just asked him on a date. He sits there long enough that the screen goes dark and he scrambles to turn it back on, sees the message still there, real and unchanged.

There’s no way he can say no to this, to Steve, and his hands shake as he types out a response.

‘Dinner would be great. Just name the time and place, Daddy.’

[the-rad1o-demon]

[Image ID (sorta, basically just the text from it):

GET KOSA TRENDING.

STOP SCROLLING NOW!

AS OF FEBRUARY 21ST, 2024, WE GOT FIVE DAYS UNTIL THE DAY OF DECISION OF THE KOSA BILL, WHICH WILL CAUSE MASS CENSORSHIP ROUND THE INTERNET IF PASSED. OR DOOMSDAY. WE NEED EVERYONE TO KNOW ABOUT THIS AND CONTRIBUTE. I'M NOT GIVING UP ON YOU ALL.

WE'RE DOWN TO THE WIRE BUT WE CAN'T GIVE UP YET. IF WE GIVE UP, EVERYTHING IS OVER. IF WE DON'T, AT LEAST WE HAVE A CHANCE.

I'M THE ONE WHO SOUNDED THE ALARM, AND I'M NOT GOING TO CURL UP AND DIE YET.

Reblog this post in every LEGAL way you can under the Tumblr guidelines with the appropriate tags. TELL AND TAG EVERYONE YOU KNOW, then add the tags to see below... and more if you can think of any complying.

Visit badinternetbills.com if you want to find a way to defeat KOSA. It WILL NOT take much of your time. Reblog with any other information or sources, too-- but make sure to reblog if you can.

Reblog if you support lgbtq+ content.

Reblog if you support questioning queer youth and/or abused youth getting the information they need.

Reblog if you support Ao3 and/or other sites that wholeheartedly preserve talentedly made media.

Reblog if you're going to repost this on other sites than Tumblr and spread the word across Twitter, Tik Tok, Pinterest, or elsewhere, alongside the link to badinternetbills.com.

END image ID]

Hey, everyone. So yeah, this is happening. We're still fighting this battle. And we can't give up now. We can't. We can't stand idly by while one of the most important resources that helped us all wake up, or at least start to question things, is being threatened by the government.

We can't stand idly by when kids, teens, and adults just like us still trapped inside might lose access to the resource that could help them wake up. We can't stand idly by when they might lose access to their non JW friends and family. We CAN'T stand idly by when we can do something to stop this bill from passing.

I am sick and tired of this same old song, where conservative fuckers higher up think they can oppress everyone. I am FUCKING SICK of it.

Please, reblog both this post and the original post linked above what I've written, and do what you can to stop KOSA, please. We are running out of time.

I suggest that if it is within your power to do so, that you do more than simply reblog and assume someone else will do something. DON'T assume that. Please do more than just reblogging if you are able to, because that's not really enough at this point.

Call/email representatives in the House and tell them to oppose KOSA (you may want to list different reasons depending on who you're calling, some House representatives are anti-LGBTQ+, so it may be best to tell them to oppose because it violates people's privacy, safety, and anonymity online). Print posters and put them up where legal if you can.

Sharing all this information to other social media sites (Instagram, Reddit, TikTok, the bird app) to reach more people can really help too. The wider the reach, the better.

Thank you. Now let's fucking rip that bill apart like we rip apart Watchtower magazines and eat it for fucking breakfast. (In a "we're eating it and the politicians who are sponsoring it are looking on in horror" kind of way)

[simplydnp]

be honest with me. what are the chances of a hard launch in june

anon this question goes back years. and the thing is. we have been right once before.

you ask me this this time last year? fuck no. i might even quip that dapg would come back before dnp would hard launch. well. look at us now.

and even then, you look back on the content they started with in the revival--it honestly kind of felt exactly like where we left off, only a lot more explicitly queer (we stan). and then... trying to see without my glasses 2. and bang, spooky week happened. and that shifted the balance. we suddenly got slo-mo replays of handholds. day, after day, after day, finishing with the absolute masterpiece of halloween baking cinnamon rolls. in all honesty it was so much more than i'd've ever expected from them. truly another post-baking universe.

and it never really slowed down. suddenly we had cat prom photos, catboy butlers, catboy dan w/ phil photography credit, theyre 'wrestling' --running us full throttle into gamingmas, the first since 2017. and every day we had a new thing to freak out over: standing close. golf jokes. and then... pinof reacts. i don't know what compelled them to do it but i do have speculations. genuinely, i think they wanted to defang a lot of their history. we treated pinof 1, especially, with this... reverance. and it wasn't talked about too publicly--and dnp didnt do it either. so if they really wanted to move on, to bring down the walls, open the floodgates, define this new era: they had to throw the first stone. and they did. quite heartily too. suddenly this almost taboo part of their history--almost too intimate to be perceived--was on the table. and we were talking about it. joking about it. giving clear signals of 'we see it, it's okay.' and suddenly we existed in a post-pinof reacts world. of anything, i would've never predicted they would've done that. absolutely wild. follow that with it takes two being so chill and fond. incohearant being so blatant and heartfelt. trombone champ being unhinged and chaotic. the genuine and sweet complimenting of each other in the red carpet video. devan wedding... happilyphoreverafter... we crashed forward in time. never knowing what would be next. where is the line? how far will they go.

they teased us with japhan honeymoon and we knew 2024 would be wild. but we didn't know how much. from wdapteo 2023, to specific reminiscing about japan w/ devan, WAD happening, and phil playing a huge role in it all--from the orange carpet hosting, to 'ive been in *sex noises* with phil from the start!', to 'remote crisis manager phil lester', to dan saying he can stay during the thank you.

one of the biggest videos so far this year was the tiktok likes one. i will be forever haunted by the dog eating cheeseburger and willy wonka tiktoks--theres some things i was never meant to know. and yet. they tell us. explicitly.

every single video on amazingphil since the return of dapg has mentioned or featured dan. there's been a palpable shift in the way they interact. have you seen the way phil has been glowing in videos lately? this guy is on cloud nine all the time. it's really not hard to see why.

the energy of keep or yeet w/ dan... the absolute Lack of pretense of it all. phan twitter... watch your step baby girl...

dan and phil fucking crafts. talk about an unexpected return. legacy defining, one might even say. we're still in this tailspin of what everything means and they drop this insanely iconic video on us. from the storytelling to the production to the aesthetic--and its all capped off by explicit handholding. yes, it was part of the sacrifice. but hand in hand, the heart dan ripped from phils chest in one, and the knife that did it in the other... oh boy. we're really in it now. and then they put it on fucking merch. genius. truly no one does it like them.

and the foot has been on the accelerator since. dan and phil connections, shuffleboard & mocktails, getting deep slumber party, acknowledgement & approval of fics (yes previously given but never like this)--hell, even the sims today was wild for 'is their love language horrible banter 👀'.

you didn't ask for an essay but i gave you one. all of this to say, they've been moving the line. quite intentionally so. they intentionally revived their joint branding. they are 'dan and phil' again, and seem happier than ever about it, and i think that means something. they're saying things they never would have before--out of the closet or not.

as for june... 5 years since coming out is a big deal. so is this year being 15 years of dnp. hell, so is this year for being the first out pride month where they're explicitly a duo and regularly making content together. they're sentimental, there will be something.

my craziest idea is reacting to their coming out videos ✌️😔 --but i don't think it'll actually happen. as for more realistic, i could see pride merch. and however that goes will be significant, in my opinion. i'm excited and curious.

i don't know if they'll hard launch. it's hard to put all of the implications, complications, and speculations back into the box once it's opened. dan's talked about it before--wanting to be able to fuck up and not be publically executed, instead, being able to learn and grow and work it out. i think that's a very understandable stance to have. very grounded. we'd have to ask him if tour/dapg has changed that now. i do think he's had some sort of life epiphany--whether it's about that specifically, only he can say. but i think it's there.

even if i portray a lot of level-headedness, i wear my clown nose with pride. sometimes the only option is to go with whatever is funniest at the time. they're both jokesters, so they could commit to a bit like that. but it's also like, it can be too serious for them to want to joke about. i don't know. i think we're in this almost beautiful state right now--the we know you know of it all. there's no expectations, no demands to be met, no obligations of types of content. they're happy. we're happy. it depends on if they feel ready. if they want to. we'll be here, always.

[116t98]

My Heartsteel Headcanons

(Except they’re real things real kpop idols really did)

The guys solve all their problems/make all their decisions by playing rock, paper, scissors. Ezreal always loses

Except for that one time when he didn’t, and he literally got down on his knees and thanked God for him finally not losing

(Yone was the one who lost that time, btw)

Kayn ripped his pants in the middle of a televised performance

While playing charades, the others try (and fail) to make Yone guess “luggage”. A few minutes later, he’s only able to guess the word after Sett (with Aphelios’s help) pretends to be a luggage bag

Kayn can play “Mary Had a little Lamb” on the recorder with his nose. Yone asked if he could play something else, which promoted him to immediately play “My Heart Will Go On”

Ezreal told their fans during a live concert performance that he used to have a really nice jacket that he wore for some performances… until one of his stylists accidentally left it on a lighting device

Long story short, his Gucci burned

Sett cries at the end of every concert

A fan once left a comment during an Instagram live that read “I’m crying in the club”, and Yone immediately responded with “you’re in the club?”

Aphelios can perfectly forge all of his bandmates’s signatures; he’s signed Heartsteel memorabilia with everyone’s signatures before, without anyone else knowing

Ezreal yelled at Sett on TV for wearing insoles in his shoes even though he’s already tall

They like to play games during their concerts, like limbo and “who can unravel a roll of toilet paper the fastest?” (it’s K’sante, but Sett’s a close second)

When he first debuted, Ezreal promoted himself by passing out mints to strangers and asking them to listen to his song

Yone wasn’t able to join the others for a live stream once, so they called him to chat for a bit. Aphelios thought it be funny to hang up on Yone as soon as he answered the phone

He was right

Kayn once showed up to the airport wearing a dog head mask

During an encore performance, the guys decided to have a push up contest while they sang

(Sett swears he won, but everyone else begs to differ)

K’sante once mentioned during a TV interview that Kayn didn’t want to watch a movie with him bc he “doesn’t like watching movies”, which got Kayn (who didn’t want to look bad in front of any movie producers who were potentially watching) so worked up, he threw a pen at the table they were seated at… which bounced right into Yone’s eye

While he was promoting his debut song, Ezreal’s brightly colored stage outfits became a meme after he compared them to different kinds of Listerine online. The meme gained so much traction, Listerine actually sent him boxfuls of mouthwash and a customized cake decorated with some fondant Listerine bottles and a sugar doll version of himself on top

The guys tease Alune a lot. Like, a lot. Sett even once jokingly asked their fans to help them set Alune up on a date bc “she’s always solo” and “it’s so sad 🥺” (pray for her u guys)

K’sante accidentally knocked the head off of a department store mannequin

After watching one of their performances, the CEO of their record label complimented the group members individually, telling them things like “your voice is good”, “you look great”, “keep it up”, etc. But, according to Kayn, the CEO only told him: “your forehead’s wide, so you’ll succeed” (wtf does that even mean??)

Kayn and Ezreal had a Twitter war where they enlisted the help of their fans to Photoshop dumb memes of the other using whatever unflattering images of themselves could be found online

Sett has a habit of napping wherever he can. The guys take advantage of the opportunity by taking pictures of themselves posing around him while he’s asleep; some favorites include K’sante standing above him to recreate “The Creation of Adam”, Aphelios putting q-tips on his mouth, and Ezreal stacking random things on his chest

For his birthday, K’sante was surprised with a birthday cake at the end of their concert. As soon as he blew out the candles, the guys shoved him face-first into the cake. He then proceeded to chase them all down, lobbing chunks of the remaining cake at them

An interviewer once said “Ezreal’s not big” (referring to his height). Ezreal responded by saying, “how do you know I’m not big? 😏” (not referring to his height)

Aphelios choked on his water when he heard Ezreal tell a different interviewer “I’m an innocent boy” (he absolutely isn’t). As he choked, Sett told him to “watch out, babe”

Ezreal told Ernest to leave the frame of a video they were filming, but he spoke the command in Korean (I hc that he’s trilingual). When Ernest actually obeys the command, Kayn asks, in the most incredulous way ever, “your dog speaks Korean??”

*Sett promoting their music to random strangers*: “You want to be happy? Buy the CD! From Riot, listen in your MP3! You are not you and I am not me, bc we are one big family! 😁”

The guys once left Sett and K’sante behind at a gas station at night

Aphelios wrote Ezreal a heartfelt letter, written in Hangul, that he requested to be read during a live performance. Ezreal read the letter out loud; it started out well, until he realized that he recognized the words

He’d know the lyrics to the Sailor Moon theme song anywhere

[csny]

not to be messy but how do you feel about people stealing other peoples viral posts on tumblr and reposting it on twitter like it’s theirs. (she’s on here by guttergirl-444) & she has stolen many more lol

at first glance it’s like shock and amazement more than anything because i never thought this would happen to me, but when i actually stop to think about it, it actually is very frustrating and invasive. i know it happens all the time and i can’t really stop it, plus my posts have no copyright or anything but it is true, when i make posts that aren’t haha funny laugh a lot play a lot, they kind of are little extensions of my artwork. like drafts and ideas that often get elaborated on if they seem to connect with people.

i don’t really want to dunk on other artists because it feels mean spirited, but i just want to point out this one instance that shows how writing anything on tumblr is “just a tumblr post” and people often don’t consider that there’s a person behind it. it’s almost like a popular tumblr post becomes fair use. This artist here took my words directly from my post (and even used the same iconography of a beach??) and when you click on the link in the description, it takes you to their instagram account with 142k followers. not even a single nod to me, who wrote the actual words. as an extra little punch, they call themself a poet in their bio.

sure my post was a bottom text top text “meme image” but there was a lot behind it—in both thought and time. the exact same ideas and photos made their way into a book i made just a couple months later. i think i sold umm one copy?

all in all, im not complaining about lacking “popularity” because that’s utterly stupid. but there’s something moderately soul-crushing about making a tumblr post and having it ripped to shreds by all walks of life online. It literally feels like i’ve placed something beautiful in the world out of my own kindness, then walked away, and when i come back everyone has defaced and damaged and killed it. it’s kind of invasive but I know it’s the way things go.

i love the anonymity of tumblr but sometimes I wish it we were all a little more open. Maybe people could remember that behind every blog is another person with ideas, cares, opinions, annoyances, and loves. I’m sure this one twitter account isn’t really doing much damage—honestly I haven’t even gone to look at it to see how people are replying—but it’s rough out there on this beautiful social media we call tumblrposts.

[ha-rinrin]

The boy savior

I found out an interview in twitter where it was basically like a draft of the series where ekko tried to kinda "save" Powder (Jinx) from Silco and I tried to make it a fic but I kinda hated it, but anyways here it goes.

Disclaimer: Im NOT a timebomb shipper but I thought this would be kinda fun to write.

word count: 8.8k

The air was thick with smoke and the pungent scent of chemicals from the Shimmer vats. Silco’s lair was nestled deep within the underbelly of Zaun, where only those loyal to him dared venture. For months, Ekko had been obsessed with one thought: rescuing Powder.

Ever since the night Vander died and the Lanes were plunged into chaos, Ekko couldn’t stop thinking about her. Powder had been taken in by Silco, the man who had ripped everything apart. And there was no way she would ever willingly stay with him. She was trapped.

He imagined her locked away somewhere, scared and alone, waiting for someone to free her from Silco’s control.

He couldn’t let her stay there.

Ekko had spent weeks planning, gathering intel through the Firelights, risking his life to track Silco’s movements. He studied the way Silco's guards patrolled his base, learned the ins and outs of the Shimmer factory. It was dangerous, but every risk felt worth it if it meant getting closer to Powder.

Today, he’d found his opening.

Slipping past guards and descending rusted metal stairs, Ekko’s heart pounded with anticipation. His mind raced with thoughts of what he’d say to her when he found her. “I’m here to save you. It’s going to be okay. We can go back.” He imagined the relief in her eyes, the joy of seeing someone who hadn’t abandoned her.

He was going to bring her home.

The heavy door creaked as he pushed it open, revealing the dimly lit room where she stood. His breath caught in his throat.

There she was—her silhouette unmistakable, though something about her seemed off. She was standing with her back turned to him, her hands busy tinkering with something. Just like she always used to, back when they were kids. Back when things were simpler.

"Powder," Ekko called softly, his voice filled with hope and relief. He stepped into the room, his pulse quickening. This is it, he thought. She’s going to turn around, and everything will make sense again.

But she didn’t move.

"Powder," he said again, this time louder, his voice carrying the weight of the weeks he’d spent searching for her. “It’s me. I’m here to rescue you. We can leave—together.”

Still, nothing.

A chill ran down his spine as he took another step forward, watching her shoulders rise and fall in shallow breaths. Something was wrong. This wasn’t how he imagined it. He had expected her to turn and run to him, relieved to be free from Silco’s grasp. But instead, she stayed eerily still, her fingers methodically tinkering with what looked like some kind of makeshift bomb.

He reached out, his voice pleading, "Powder, it’s me. Ekko. I’m here to take you away from all this. Silco, He’s keeping you trapped!"

The moment the words left his mouth, her hands froze. Slowly, agonizingly slow, she straightened up. The clattering of tools stopped, and the silence that followed was suffocating.

She turned around, eyes wide, staring at Ekko as if he were a ghost from a life she had long buried.

For a moment, the shock in her face was unmistakable. Her mouth parted, but no words came out. It was as though she hadn’t expected to see him again, and for that brief second, she looked… vulnerable. Her chest heaved, her fingers twitched, and the makeshift bomb she had been working on clattered to the floor.

"Ekko…?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, like a memory pulled from the past.

The sound of his name from her lips almost undid him. It was her—Powder—underneath it all. His heart surged, filled with hope. "Yeah, it’s me. I’m here to take you home."

But just as quickly as the surprise appeared, her expression twisted into something else. The softness evaporated, replaced by cold anger.

Her eyes narrowed. The vulnerability was gone, swallowed up by a sharp, unhinged smile. "You shouldn’t have come here," she said, her voice hardening. 

Ekko’s heart sank. He stepped closer, his voice gentle. "Powder, please, I’m here to help you. We can go back. We can leave Silco—"

"I don’t need your help," she snapped, cutting him off, her voice rising with fury. “And I’m not Powder anymore, Im Jinx now”

He hesitated, trying to find the right words. "You’re not like this. You’re not who Silco made you. You were always stronger than this."

"Stronger?" she echoed, stepping closer, her eyes flashing with defiance. "You don’t get it! Silco is the only one who believed in me when you all turned your backs. He taught me how to survive in a world that wanted to break me!"

"But at what cost?" Ekko pressed, frustration seeping into his voice. "He’s twisted you! Powder wouldn’t want this. She wouldn’t want to be a pawn in his game!"

"Powder is gone! She died the night Vander was killed!, The day Vi left me to rot!” 

"I’m trying to save you!" Ekko pleaded, moving closer, grasping her wrist, his heart racing with urgency. "Powder, please! Just listen to me! You don’t belong to him. You’re not a weapon. You’re—"

Before he could finish, she lashed out, swatting his hand away as if it burned her. "Don’t touch me!" she spat, anger boiling in her voice.

In that moment of reflex, Ekko reached out again, grabbing her wrist again. "You need to listen!" he insisted, panic rising in his chest.

Jinx’s eyes blazed with fury, and before he could react, she twisted out of his grip and slapped him—hard. The crack of the impact echoed in the small room, and Ekko staggered back, stunned. The sting of the slap reverberated through him, but it wasn’t the physical pain that hurt—it was the realization of what had just happened.

It repeated itself, it was the same kind of slap Vi had given her that day.

Jinx’s chest heaved with shallow breaths, her hand still trembling from the force of the hit. Her face was twisted with anger, but there was something else there too—something that looked like pain.

"You should’ve stayed gone," she whispered, her voice raw and laced with bitterness. "I don’t need you. I don’t need Vi. I don’t need anyone."

Ekko stood there, stunned, his cheek burning from the slap. His heart felt heavy, weighed down by the truth he had been avoiding. She wasn’t going to come with him. No matter how much he wanted to save her.

"Powder…" he whispered, his voice cracking.

"I told you," she said coldly, backing away, her eyes hard and unreadable. "Powder’s gone.” 

Ekko’s throat tightened, his heart aching with the finality of her words. He wanted to fight for her, to reach through the armor she’d built around herself. But the truth was staring him in the face now—she wasn’t the girl he’d lost.

And maybe she never would be again.

Jinx turned her back to him, her body tense, her hands shaking as she went back to tinkering with the device on the table. "Go," she muttered, her voice low and cold. "Before I make you regret coming here."

Ekko lingered for a moment longer, his heart torn between fighting and letting go. But in the end, he knew there was nothing more he could do.

With a heavy heart, he turned and left the room, the sound of the door creaking shut behind him like the final nail in the coffin of what used to be.

A swarm of metallic butterflies danced across the bridge, glimmering ominously in the fading light. Just moments later, an explosion erupted, the blast echoing through the air like thunder and lighting up the sky with fiery brilliance. The culprit's name was etched into the scene, unmistakable.

The overhead lights on the bridge flickered violently as the shockwave slammed into the crowd, sending people sprawling to the ground. Amid the pandemonium, a familiar, melodic hum cut through the chaos. It was Jinx.

She stood defiantly at the center of the storm, her fingers gripping the container that held the hextech gem. With a swift motion, she slipped her arm through the strap, securing it against her side. But just as a grin began to spread across her face, her gaze caught sight of them: Caitlyn and Vi, standing frozen in disbelief.

A wicked smile  twisted her lips as she raised her gun without a second thought. The sound of her shot rang out, echoing ominously, as she aimed to separate the two. In that instant, the smoke billowed around her, obscuring her form like a ghost emerging from the shadows.

Then, out of the haze, Ekko flew toward her, his silhouette a blur of motion. He lunged forward, quick and determined, and with a swift maneuver, he wrested the container from Jinx’s grasp. The force of his movement sent her staggering back, momentarily off balance.

“Go!” Ekko shouted, his voice sharp and commanding as he tossed the gem to Caitlyn and Vi. They didn’t hesitate, instinctively obeying his command.

Jinx, regaining her footing, emerged from the swirling smoke, her wild hair framing her face, eyes blazing with a mix of fury and excitement. The remnants of the explosion flickered in the air around her, casting her in a surreal light.“Oh, look who it is,” she taunted, a wicked grin stretching across her face, the chaos only fueling her exhilaration. “The boy savior.”

[leclerc-s]

track 004. electric touch

─── ❝ i've got my money on things goin' badly, got a history of stories ending sadly ❞ ───

series masterlist // previous // next

APRIL 2017

DANIEL RICCIARDO AND MAX VERSTAPPEN RETURN FOR ON THE SOFA

comments

username these two share a special bond, i love it.

username max and daniel was a duo i didn’t know i need this bad.

username HE HAS A WHAT?

username danny, baby, this isn’t you. what about our 5 kids, our farmhouse, and 3 dogs?

username wonder who the slut is

username whoever this woman is, she’s not good enough for him.

username you don't even know who she is username he's not going to fall in love with you, he's not going to even like you if you keep shitting on his girlfriend you don't even know the name of username haven’t you heard? her name is casper

username everyone's shitting on his relationship but daniel seems genuinely happy. like geez, let the man be in love.

username daniel naming his girlfriend casper instead of using her actual name is such a daniel thing to do

username i was kind of expect joey or vegemite, something australian at least. casper’s gotta be an inside joke.

username daniel isn't dating daphne, but it would be hilarious if he would was because that means max and daniel could've been in laws and that's hilarious.

username that would've been so iconic. from being teammates to in-laws.

mae jones twitter is losing mind at this moment

daniel ricciardo why? i can't possibly assume why?

lewis hamilton didn't you just announce you're in a relationship with someone? i would assume that's why sebastian vettel he doesn't seem to care all that much

carlos sainz at least he didn't say who it was

max verstappen haven't you heard she's casper now? daphne jones i've disappeared from the media, i am casper, technically speaking.

mae jones it was smart of him to mention her as one of the friends he was hanging out with. people won't suspect her.

sebastian vettel i want to know how long this could possibly go on for. max verstappen knowing dan and daph, at least 5 years or more. lewis hamilton seems reasonable.

daphne jones ooh, i’m getting called a slut already

daniel ricciardo sweetheart no. daphne jones nothing i'm not used to already 🤷🏼‍♀️ carlos sainz i can defend your honor mae jones i can bite ankles. i am not above it. max verstappen we’re aware sebastian vettel you’re all children

max verstappen added one person

max verstappen don't make me fucking regret this gasly

max verstappen he was being a nuisance i had to add him mae jones that's a big word for elmo max verstappen fuck you jones mae jones woah, max, we broke up, you can't do that anymore max verstappen fuck off jones, that works better

lewis hamilton you have to swear to secrecy. what is said in the groupchat stays in the groupchat.

pierre gasly i solemnly swear max verstappen i swear if you add fucking leclerc i'm going to crash into you at turn one whenever you start racing in f1 pierre gasly i still don't understand why you hate him but okay mae jones he still bitter about the inchident max verstappen honestly mae, stop bullying me. mae jones but you make it so easy

carlos sainz daphne and daniel are dating and you can't tell anyone, not even this charles max is talking about.

pierre gasly daniel ricciardo dating music legend daphne jones? that seems like tas de merde

mae jones THEY DON'T TEACH FRENCH IN JAIL YOU FUCKING BAGUETTE!!! lewis hamilton you've been to jail? mae jones once in monopoly...it was not fun daniel ricciardo i nearly lost my couch the last time we played carlos sainz I ALMOST LOST AN EYE!

pierre gasly HOW THE HELL DID LEWIS AND SEBASTIAN END UP IN THIS BEFORE ME?

max verstappen fernando is here too, he just never answers pierre gasly I'VE KNOWN YOU MOST OF OUR LIVES AND THIS IS THE TREATMENT I GET? daniel ricciardo seb is the reason daphne and i are together. lewis is nursing a broken heart. rip nico and lewis' friendship, you will be missed and you were iconic. as for nando, well you try telling no to a 2x world champion that ended michael schumacher's streak mae jones fernando alonso is a legend put some respect on his name

carlos sainz he has to prove he's willing to defend daphne

pierre gasly fuck kanye daniel ricciardo that's the spirit daphne jones no. stop. don't encourage this daniel. max verstappen no let him. he deserves it.

fernando alonso will you people shut up? it's 3am, go to sleep.

sebastian vettel you're old, that's why you're boring. fernando alonso and yet neither of us has won a world championship with ferrari. sebastian vettel i still have time i don't plan on leaving anytime soon, unlike you, quitter. fernando alonso just don't pull another multi 21 with kimi and things will be fine

mae jones uncle lewis, our dads are fighting again!

lewis hamilton they'll get over it in a few hours. they always do.

fernando alonso changed the group name to multi 21 seb

fernando alonso changed the group photo

daniel ricciardo yeah this isn't going away any time soon

max verstappen where did he even find a picture for this? last time it was just a picture of nando's car

daphne jones not this again.

pierre gasly this happens often?

mae jones too often. at least once every two weeks.

AUGUST 23RD, 2017

liked by maejones, pierregasly, maxverstappen33 and others

danielricciardo something about how the world moves on another drama but not for me.

view all comments

user92 mr.ricciardo, what does that caption mean?

maejones i see you did your research

danielricciardo i have it written down and underlined in red.

user61 coincidence that this is posted the same day daphne jones announces her new album? i think not

user31 song lyrics? danielriccciardo okay, sherlock and watson, calm down. you expect daphne 'expert secret keeper' jones, to tell me daniel 'blabbermouth' ricciardo her song lyrics? user89 he's got a good point. if anything she'd tell mae, her sister, and not one of her friends.

maxverstappen33 why that picture out of all of them? you have so many and you chose that one?

danielricciardo i think i look fucking great

¡leclerc-s speaks! we will not be speaking of today's grand prix. i live in delusion, charles is still, sadly, p6 and lewis is p2. i will take no arguments on this. enjoy this short chapter.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[funishment-time]

psst where do you get the funny posts for your edits? I just stumble into them myself but the frequency you post them makes me think there must be a better way.

it depends on the Era! ha. these days i scour Pinterest, searching things like "funny textposts" etc that i haven't used yet or seen used much at all. sometimes i Google "funny tweets" or "weird tweets" etc too. it takes longer than it used to, just because i've made so many little edits with so many of the most popular Funni Posts across social media.

back in the day with the Satire Headlines i just went thru the entire archives of Reductress, The Onion, etc.

and with the dril posts there used to be a dril archive on github, so i went thru that entire thing. the archive died not long after i finished due to Musk's hostile takeover making the Twitter API utterly unusable, RIP dril archive. i could just go thru newer stuff manually now but a lot of dril's recent posts are very political (not going to turn that into DR stuff, poor taste) or just not good (esp in the last few months, i legitimately think someone else is running the account now).

a big part of my frequency is also just my piss-poor health. due to disability i have days where literally all i can do is kind of move my hand around a little to Crop and Paste things, and i like to keep my mind occupied even if i'm not feeling great, so i do that. gives me a giggle and keeps me light-hearted

[ultfreakme]

On Geto and 'femininity'

Okay so I saw bunch of discussions and discourse over Geto being presented as 'feminine' and female-coded and there are people who use that to headcanon a variety of things for Geto as a character.

I think Geto has been assigned a lot of tropes in-story that are associated with female characters. Some of it in good ways.....others in bad ways. But I will say, I don't think Geto on his own represents any kind of female struggle but is rather a gateway to explore and use tropes that are generally assigned to female characters.

The predominant tropes I think Geto fits are the Disposable Woman and the I Can Change My Beloved trope.

The first one is really obvious. The Disposable Woman exists to give a male character an emotional motive to go forward with a goal and the character serves no other greater purpose than that (I'll get back to the last part later). Hidden Inventory is a Gojo backstory, Geto's fall is a part of explaining Gojo's future entrapment and his motivation for becoming a teacher. We see Geto's downward spiral but at the end of the day this is primarily about Gojo.

more under the cut

Geto also literally gets used as an accessory for Gojo's character motivation by Kenjaku. It is blatantly stated in-text the only reason Geto's body is around again is to fuck with Gojo.

The second trope, is also pretty on the nose. The Hidden Inventory arc starts with Geto talking about how Gojo should protect the weak, he's always telling Gojo to do this or do that, speak more politely, don't look down on others, take care of yourself, let me help you, etc. And it works! He does change his 'beloved'.

But it's not just this.

In terms of character design, Geto is meant to be a pretty boy. He's more popular than Gojo, his attractiveness is what gets Manami and Larue interested in his ideology, his beauty and charm convinces even skeptics and it's to the point Gege constantly points it out in-text. His design also somewhat reflects that in a twisted way. His long hair, earrings and robes are actually supposed to be a false imitation of Buddha but they also serve to make him more stereotypically feminine.

He's also associated with the figure of a 'mother' through Nanako and Mimiko. In the anime, the scene where he's getting his hair combed is done so....delicately. You get lingering shots of his hair, his eyes, his hands and the way he sits. An untouchable, loving dream. Gojo also remembers him in this untouchable manner. Then there's the obvious, the worm inventory curse calling Geto mom and asking for a hug.

There's this amazing thread on twitter that goes into a lot of detail about how Geto's design and motives take a lot of inspiration from Kannon, who is the bodhisattva of compassion and mercy and is most often depicted as a woman.

And.....okay this third one is an exploitative, sensitiv trope but it exists nonetheless and can be applied to Geto. I don't know the exact name for it, but a lot of female characters get put through torturous, traumatic situations to fuel the male characters' anger. This violence is portrayed in a very indulgent manner, where the point of showing or depicting the assault/violence is not to show the extent of evil but to revel and take enjoyment in the suffering.

Kenjaku taking over Geto's body falls into that. It's not as gross and demeaning as it is with female characters(the aforementioned violence is prominently shown through sexual assault and taking away bodily autonomy), but Kenjaku openly flaunts his possession.

He rips off Geto's head, plays with his skull, uses all the skills and connections that come with his body in a flippant manner. It's clear he takes some kinda pleasure in possessing Geto's body(the way he's posing in the volume 16 cover is a pretty good example of that). NanaMimi point out how horrific it is when arguing with the cult family. Gojo's need to give Geto a proper burial and his horrified reaction also emphasizes this. Geto's possession and the hijacking of his body is violent and invasive.

Kenjaku's possessions are associated with assault and targeted violence against women. He experimented on a woman for the Death Paintings, he took over Yuji's mom and used her body, assaulting both Yuji's mom and his dad(yes yes it's possible he knew but still, the consent isn't there and as many jokes as the fandom makes about back shots or whatever, this is still sexual assault). Kenjaku specifically is a villain who exploits bodies and Geto is one of them.

This specific kind of deprivation of physical autonomy is experienced primarily by female characters.

So put that all together and you get what many assign as femininity or female-coding.

The problem is, Geto is given all the decidely BAD tropes associated with female characters. If Geto's character was a woman in JJK, I'd be appalled because this is just, so misogynistic to assign to a female character.

But this repulsion doesn't happen because of one very important thing; Geto's still written as a man and therefore has all the default privileges that come with it. Both in-story through character motivation and through Gege as a writer. Remember how I said the Disposable Woman serves no other purpose but to be the man's motive? Well this is where Geto diverges. Geto's given the trope but he is written with the defaults and privileges of a man.

We HAVE multiple other Disposable Women tropes in JJK! Tsumiki, Rika, Yuji's mom and most importantly, Megumi's mom.

MEGUMI'S MOM DOESN'T EVEN HAVE A NAME! Literally everyone calls her 'Mamaguro'. We know jack shit about her other than she was pretty, Toji loved her and she fixed Toji or something. There is all the chances in the world to give all of these characters more back story and motives but none of them get that. Hell, even alive female characters don't get nearly the same amount of exploration(Shoko was right there with Gojo and Geto but the focus on her is so little).

Geto got a whole five-episode arc half dedicated to him. There's also his attitude which is decidedly coming from an entitled place. He's absolutely sure of his strength, he doesn't even examine who or how he's assigning 'weakness'.

The women in JJK are a lot more 'selfish', and it's best explained by Nobara. There's only so much you can give of yourself, only so many people that you can let in because if you do more, you're dead. Itadori doesn't fully get this kinda thinking, he's trying to save and love everybody under the sun because he thinks he can afford to do that. Shoko also keeps a distance from Gojo and Geto. Women can't affor to overextend themselves and do whatever the fuck they want only because they have power because they're navigating the oppressiveness of the jujutsu society along with regular old patriarchy.

The women of JJK know that the patriarchal nature of the system is also responsible for how corrupt everything is. But Geto doesn't. He doesn't examine the system of jujutsu sorcerers in a nuanced manner and skips right to the curses.

Geto's femininity comes from a lot of tropes assigned to women but there isn't anything crucially feminine about any of the tropes. they're all overdone and often offensive, reductive stereotypes. But they're only reductive when employed with women because female characters who go through experiences like assault or parenthood are never given the time to be explored well.

For female characters, assault is considered a characteristic rather than a plot event that deeply affects them. On top of that, female characters are never anything beyond their traumas and the motives the provide for male characters.

Geto gets to skip all the bad parts and actually gets characterization, personal motives and is deeply flawed while being treated kindly by the writer. Which is why the things he does go through doesn't come off as offensive and ill thought-out. I think it's also why people assign him femininity and consider him to represent a female experience. Because he's the one character who is used to explore frequently awful female-assigned tropes in a somewhat respectful manner.

Again, the tropes do not define actual femininity. Being feminine or masculine is on a spectrum that is largely undefined and unclear. Geto's assignations are all happening in terms of fiction and in fiction, these tropes and appearances are assigned to the idea of a 'female' character.

Anyways that's my two cents, bye bye.

[solarwynd]

An interesting turn of events - it is fascinating to see Jikookers being as vile they are right now towards Tae. Now I will preface this by saying I absolutely dislike that man. I think he’s fkn annoying, cringey and his pretentious attitude gets to my nerves. I have muted all JK related key words too. I am here for JiHope. And Jimin is my forever ULT. But in the shipping world up until 2021, the norm was Jimin getting the absolute worst shit on Twitter for doing nothing while JK and Tae get away with everything. Like the things Jimin would be labelled an attention seeker or whatever for, will be called cute and adorable when TH does it. And Jikookers largely really did pretend like OT7s for the longest time. They wanted to be the ones with common sense, middle ground, moral superiority. Their “you can never make me hate taetae(barf)” ideology was pretty strong.

But I have seen a new flurry of Jikookers that are absolutely unhinged lol. There’s this gang of theirs on Twitter, like a clique and they are all petty hateful towards Taehyung. They call themselves KM solos I believe and I think they really do hate him. I have majority shipping accounts blocked but I was on the trends yesterday and I saw a tweet with Jimin cropped out by a Taekooker account, and the qrts were filled with quality edits and shit and pure spite towards TH. Someone even made a meme where he looks like a donkey? And there were several hit tweets there with thousands of likes, all belittling TH. I also saw some ���OT7 joker” getting ripped a new one because they said JKKrs are the same tkkrs. Like the comment section destroyed her. It’s a real shift for those who have witnessed the shipping landscape evolution. He used to get away with a lot and babied. Idk what changed. Now it’s still not even remotely close to what Tkkrs does to Jimin. There’s simply no comparison, but it’s interesting to see a counter narrative. Literally nobody gets benefitted from shipping except for JK I guess.

Can’t wait for the members to start revealing their relationships etc. I will be getting the butteriest pop corn and a front row seat.

You’re actually very right about the bulk of jikookers wanting to appear as OT7 and I never got that. You go on any of their accounts and it’s nothing but Jikook/JK/Jimin on there. What’s the point to even pretend. It seems exhausting putting up that kind of front knowing that you don’t care about the other 5 members to stay in armys good graces. Especially when you’re already ostracized by them. It’s the same as these diet solos who still try to act like they’re armys. Like I can’t imagine if I had decided to continue faking being an army past April of last year.

I think it’s easier for jkkrs to mask their dislike towards Taehyung cause unlike for taekookers, Jikook’s existence does not hinge on Taehyung being seen as some type of wedge. I feel like the bulk of them are indifferent or just don’t care about him. And I do know the exact clique you’re talking about. Including the main one who’s too invested in dragging Taehyung unprovoked and always gets Jimin dragged.

I also did see that big jkkr account that got ratioed and deservedly so, cause frankly idc how neutral or upstanding you’re tryna be. If you bias jimin, your priority should be him. To hell with Taehyung and his fuckass stans.

[planetgutz]

kill bill

✶ content: a little bit of angst ??, makeup sex, vaginal sex, fingering, praise, dirty talk, creampie, the l bomb (a few times cuz im sappy), dom leaning mammon

✶ pairing: ex boyfriend!mammon x fem!reader

you and mammon had broken up about three months ago. you couldn't deal with his constant schemes to further his wealth, some of these schemes even dragging you down with him. the last straw for you came when the avatar of greed suggested to you that the both of you could monetize your sex life, starting an nsfw page on twitter and accepting donations.

you almost couldn't believe what you were hearing. mammon had always told you that you were just his, he wasn't willing to share you with anyone else. this was a major blow to you so you ended the relationship right then and there. you can still remember how mammon tried to act indifferent as if he couldn't care less, as tears welled in his eyes and threatened to spill over. you hadn't spoken to him or any of the other brothers since then, opting to stay with simeon, solomon, and luke for the time being.

"y/n, we know we love you but you can't stay here forever," luke tells you one day while you're brushing his hair. solomon looks up from the book he's reading, obviously amused. you stop brushing luke's hair. "i know that, i just can't bring myself to face any of them still" solomon laughs from his side of the room and you shoot him a death glare.

"it's best to just rip the bandaid off now, diavolo only gave you this accommodation temporarily anyway"

you reflect on this for a moment and can't help but agree. the group of boys had all been so kind to you in your time of need, you didn't want to continue mooching off of them. you pat luke's head and turn back to solomon. "you know, for once, you're actually right, i have to face them, including him" the boys in the room notice the way your expression changes when you mention mammon, even without saying his name.

solomon walks over and places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "you don't have to leave right away if you don't want to, you're always welcome here" you give him a soft smile and stand to face him and luke. "like you said, it's best to rip the bandaid off now"

the three of you wait until simeon returns to tell him your plans of returning to your original dorm. as sad as he is to see you go, he agrees that its the best for you. the boys help you pack up your things and escort you back to the main dorms.

"y/n, if you want to come back at any point, just call us and we'll come get you right away" simeon tells you, pulling you into a tight embrace. you nod and wave goodbye to the three as you roll your suitcase towards the front door. a foreboding dread looms over you as your hand hovers over the door. so many memories made here, both good and bad. you muster up the courage to knock on the door. you hear rushed footsteps, a crash followed by a loud curse, and then the door swings open.

it's him.

mammon is stunned, probably never expecting to see you again. he's frozen for a moment before collecting himself. "it's uhm good to see ya, mc" you expected it to be this awkward. you nod. "yea good to see you too, mammon, i'm here to move back in" you say, gesturing towards your suitcase. his eyes widen at that for a moment before returning to normal.

"yeah, of course, come right in" mammon steps aside to let you into the house. he leads you to your old bedroom, stopping when the two of you get to the door. you expect the two of you to part ways but instead, he speaks up. "mc, can we talk please?" you blink owlishly at him before nodding and leading him into your bedroom. you both side on your bed, ample distance between each other.

for some reason, all the memories of the things you and he had done in this room come flooding back. hot and intense memories invade your brain, causing you to clear your throat and cross your legs. mammon takes notice of this but doesn't say a word. "so what did you have to talk to me about?" mammon turns to you, deadly serious.

"listen, i know you probably won't forgive me but i'm sorry, i've regretted what i did since you left 'cuz i lost the love of my life"

he pauses.

"i just want you to know that not a day has gone by where i didn't think of ya, mc" he sighs and moves to stand and leave, already anticipating rejection. you reach out and grab his arm. "mc, huh wh-"

you cut him off, slamming your lips against his. the kiss is returned almost instantly, mammon moving to wrap his arms around your waist. he hoists you up and you wrap your legs around his waist, arms locking around his neck. neither one of you comes up for air as he walks over to your dresser and places you on it. his tongue invades your mouth as you both fight for dominance. mammon is the first to pull back, pupils blown wide.

"i'm gonna show ya how much i missed ya"

he roughly drags your sweats down your legs, underwear following soon after. he groans, taking in the sight of your exposed cunt. mammon slides one finger into your tight cunt, causing you to moan. once he deems you loose enough, he slides another finger in. he's curling his fingers just right, hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you. mammon leans down close to your ear. "tell me how bad ya want me, tell me ya only belong to me, mc"

you grip his forearm, squirming, pleasure becoming intense. your eyes roll back as your orgasm approaches but mammon stops his movements and smacks your thighs. "what did i say, mc?" you're full on desperate now, orgasm ripped away from you.

"please, mammon! i'm all yours, i want you so bad, just please fuck me!"

a smile takes over mammon's face as he pulls his fingers from your cunt. "that's my good girl, i'll give you what ya want now" he unzips his pants, freeing his cock. mammon had always gone commando, a detail you'd almost forgotten. he strokes his cock a few times before angling it against your throbbing hole. you yelp as he begins pushing it inside. he leans over and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. "don't worry baby, doing so well for me" you reach your hands out to pull him closer and he obliges, pushing you further up on to the dresser. he bottoms out and gives you a moment to adjust. you begin kissing along his neck and he takes that as a sign that you're ready.

mammon slides all the way out of you before slamming back in. he maintains a steady pace, rocking both of you as you clutch onto him for dear life. "mine, pretty girl, all mine, love you so much" the room is filled with your loud cries and the occasional grunt and whine from mammon. "fuck! mammon mm gonna cum!"

mammon digs his nails into your hips, picking up the pace. "ya gonna cream on my dick, baby?" you nod mindlessly. mammon smirks. "i want ya to cum all over this dick and ima fill ya up, okay? you keep nodding, pressure building. "make sure everyone knows ya belong to me" mammon bites down on the side of your neck, hard. you come undone after this, cumming hard around his cock. mammon finishes not long after, filling you up with his seed. he pulls out, cock coated in the evidence of your lovemaking. mammon's cum begins to drip out of you and onto your dresser and you whine.

mammon moves to pick you up, swooping you up into his arms bridal style. "c'mon mc, lets get ya in a bath" you nuzzle into his neck, already drifting off to sleep. "i missed you, mammon" he laughs. "i missed you too, mc" you yawn, attempting to stretch your legs in his grip. "i love you" you say, finally falling asleep.

"i love you more than you'd ever know"

[katyspersonal]

Regarding previous post about disco horse: I really appreciate that everyone is actually talking for once, but a kind of jab happened on my mental health so I have to step away. It isn't from this post, but the reason is sort of connected

Again, I personally find no problems with the DLC except for how Radahn ship came from nowhere and can justify how that comes. But regardless of how many things anyone else dislikes about the DLC: you are valid to hate it as much as you want, but when you start insulting people who loved/accepted/justified the DLC as "media illiterate fromsoft dickriders who keeps coping even after the honeymoon phase passed" and variation I draw the line. There are many ways where other fans can find reason where you didn't and there is potential in new lore that you won't use. Absurd how some people are still willing to support illusory narrative that Radahn Redditor simps are the "worst" part of the fandom when not even at their most arrogant and annoying they can dream to reach HALF of the toxicity cultish Miquella/Malenia fans have, over the awful crime of having different readings, opinions and priorities.

And yes, I know it is inevitable that Tumblr and Twitter fans WOULD make a moral/intellectual/maturity contest out of how people feel about the DLC (🤡🤡🤡), but it hurts when people I actually don't want to butt heads with who start to approve of this mentality. Like, okay cool. Wallow in your elitist toxic pool of Ledas while we, "pathetic dickriders" go and "cope" somewhere else, hope everyone is more comfortable this way 🤦‍♂️ I am tired of getting hurt through endless passive aggression and I have my limits. It is just always hurtful to finally rip the bandage, even IF it is to the better. I need a hiatus for a longer time, albeit for a different reason now

[specialmedicalcentre]

Triage in the Waiting Room

"We're a little booked up today, so I'll be doing your intake right there," Nurse Teri said, motioning to a vinyl couch in the waiting room.

"O-okay," Anna said. She thought that was a little unusual, but at least they were seeing her quickly. She had only come in for a checkup, but still. "Do you...do you want me to sit?" She asked.

Nurse Teri was busy wheeling a small cart over; it had a machine on it and some tubes and wires dangling. It smelled of alcohol and antiseptic and...rubber? "Yes, dear, that would be perfect. And remove your blouse for me, ok? I need to get your pressure."

Anna was a little taken aback. "Like, right here?" There were quite a few folks in the waiting room, and nurses busily milling around. Looking around, she began to notice - other patients were doing the same thing. Oh my god, Anna thought - in the corner a woman had her top all the way off and she had wires stuck onto her.

What was going on? Glancing behind her, a windowed exam room had a couple of patients in it, engaged in...some kind of exam?

"Yes, that's right," Nurse Teri said. "We're awfully busy, I'm afraid. You understand, surely."

Anna awkwardly started unbuttoning her blouse, thinking it's a good thing I wore the pretty bra.

"What brings you in today, dear?" Teri asked as she pulled a blood pressure cuff from the cart. The sound of ripping velcro turned heads in the room, and Anna suddenly felt them all on her as she removed her blouse. Teri begain to wrap the cool fabric around Anna's bicep. It felt odd, but...almost comforting.

"Well, I felt like getting a checkup, I guess." Anna explained. Teri smoothed down the cuff against the velcro closures, nodding with a look of understanding. "Actually, it's weird. I saw this poster on the train - you know, the 'Best Care...' thing. It really inspired me to come in."

Teri looked at Anna and, motioning to the room, said, "That's what everyone is saying, dear - we're all too happy to help. Now, let's get started."

Teri pressed a button, and the cuff began to inflate.

-----

As we celebrate a "Year of SMC", we were inspired by @medig's own Tumblrversary post and wanted to do something similar. Here, we're reissuing a revised version of our first post on Tumblr, which features one of the first mederotica scenes we ever put together for publication.

We're so glad that you've all stuck around since then to help us develop and inspire us with your own excellent imagemaking and storytelling. Thank you!

=====

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[thattimdrakeguy]

anything i see anything new on dc's bat-family it makes me wanna scream "WHAT THE FUCK'S THE MATTER WITH YA" and go after them yelling "FUCK OFF"

(not that bad actually. i'm pretty chill inside most of the time. i'm not what i used to be. a lot of it is performative, but a luke warm attitude towards something you have to say doesn't invoke passion, or anythign exciting that'd make anyone want to read it. not that many do anyways)

so many years of this and none of them get better. it's like it's trying to be pathetic

all those years of things you can research to be sure you get it right, and you fuckers couldn't be arsed to get your ass in gear and make sure all these fans that left have something to go back to?

now this dc server discord. my gosh, i don't think we're seeing the blue skies again. they're catering to a small pond of people, a wee group consisting of those that read panels, and pal around with fan fics and mash-ups that they created and pondered

not the stuff that had plenty of real people going out to the shops and ordering comics, that made them have a love and respect for the medium to the point they were fine calling themselves a fan back when it wasn't right in a cool kind of way in the eyes of many

now they're comics, it's not that serious. whoc ares that much in the end

and i guess i'll never seem like i'm not overreacting a touch

but comics used to tell stories that attached themselves to people's hearts and made them be seen and held, like finally i got something that i respond to

now it's who can rip off the fandom the best, and it's so easy to get content of the same marginal quality on AO3, and fan comics that don't need to blessing of bastard DC Comics

it's sensational the passion people can have despite that, whether or not it's for me. but all those hundreds of thousands of people missing a piece of their prior enjoyment because the 5 stan opinions repeated at nauseum is all anyone important at the writers station (not a real thing, i just mean writers) at the company is making them thing "ah yes, we're doing all right by them"

no you didn't, fucker, you scared the rest away with all the nonsense

now if you want more money you gotta try to earn them back

they think it's hopeless and practically pointless because comics are a dying medium, but they don't have to be. i'm sure it'll never to go back to what it once was, but you can still at least try to have a legacy as a writer that means something to people

when we used to have guys back in the day that could go and fuck around writing stories about peter parker's love life that didn't have much action that you would think the typical reader would desire, that could still effect someone in a way that had them stop and think about themselves, because a fraction of wisdom was hidden in it

now you get characters botched, bastardized, and secretly killed and replaced by those with the same names, and they can't even muster the sense to care. because someone laughed at a character being drawn at the wrong height, or another had a good reaction from people that didn't know the character as they thought they were writing their big magnum opus blockbuster for them

and i don't expect perfection, or the good old days to be possible to back to because they're the old days for a reason

but theirs's still the possibility and ability to go back and figure out the lost art of product control, and ravenous quality that can seep into people's spirits and give them a passion to constantly go back to issue after issue, giving your damn funky company a proper profit that means anything

no there they go ripping off little jimmy on twitter, stan account number 55, who's repeating what their pal jessica said on tumblr about bat-family member that got designated trope number 782 on the list, and that got the writer believing they did a job well done

you can do more

they're all just people, and i admire the fact they got to where they are. bless them for all the accomplishments they have. i can't take that way from them. but i'm also just a person who has what he has to say, and i think there's more to these writers then even they give themselves credit for

whining when people rightfully criticize your poor characterization and (even that's rare given the standards of today's comic fandom population) because it's your interpretation, when that's not how interpretation works

my man the money, and legacy you could create for yourself by doing the job, and research, and making something that actually comes across as a product worth buying could make you name live on for years after your death

comics aren't a large, marginally important industry, that all writers strive to join, but they're a passionate bunch that can make your legacy last for years to come

instead you'd rather sit on the bottom of a barrel being like everyone else typing out the same crap in 5 minutes a junior high student could in 2

batman has made billions of dollars from the excellence of others

and they'd rather sit down and take, what's not even a lot of money given that it's comics, and accept it, then make somethings of themselves, and perhaps with enough lucky make the company and business worth something again

there's no point in not trying

all they'd do is get more out of it with a bit of trying and effort, and passion and metaphorical sweat put into it

why should i read Tim Drake: Robin that can't even remember how Tim would talk about Damian right, and can't be fucked to not make his boyfriend look like a generic twink instead of himself, when i could go back and read something from about a decade before my own birth when it was good (if written by a massive fucker)

i've spent nearly a decade on and off criticizing comics, mainly dc and the bat-family, look at my blog name, it's 'ThatTimDrakeGuy' (yes that's how i personally spell it, with the capitalization), and all i've found are holes and tears in it since i've began back in 2015 when Rebirth was only news and headlines

and i've yet to see things get better when i read some classics and became aware at what was, and what could be

nonsense that people with enough passion to get their asses in gear to get the job and the assignments, with plenty of talents, especially the artists, my goodness regardless if they can remember what characters like tim or damian, and sometimes even easy to remember ass jason todd look like, they still have impressive skill, ability, and talent, that far surpases what the majority of the population on the whole planet can do

so it's not that they can't do it

it's that they don't try

often they try the opposite for quick cheap rewards, in the form of twitter stan brownie points "LOOK THEY HUGGED" "LOOK THEY'RE CRYING" "LOOK HE'S SO SHORT" regardless if that's thhe character, it makes sense, the story needs it, or it'll be remembered in years to come

give me and others a reason to come back

otherwise dc might as well die, which i hate to say, and don't mean all the way because of the jobs that would lose

but how else can i verbalize the general feeling and sensation it gives me, when all of that effort goes to waste with medicore at best products that won't be recalled months from now by any amount of peopel that's substantial?

you could go and be a legend in the field, or another turd in the bucket that's about to fly away in the wind to never be seen 'til their next splatty mess

quite sad and i hate it

and shit, with so many people acceptint it, and talking it up, the idea i can't even see a character i used to enjoy look like themselves at times is a wee miserable

how stupid is that when you think on it

how do you get to that point?

comics aren't serious

but the passion a lot have is

(never hurt anyone over it tho. those people are just wild, and not in a cool way)

[monpalace]

ships .. (ocarina of time/majora's mask) link/reader, (linked universe) time/reader.

content .. it's only natural you search for your nephew after he enters the lost woods on a dare. you can't have a problem with the hand dealt to you when the beast who gives you shelter is so kind.

warnings .. no beta, we die like the promise i made to finish this before the summer after my junior year ended (i started this in april, it's august). i didn't know where i was going with this after a certain point and i think that's obvious. reader uses she/her pronouns. large, legal age gap (reader is in her 30's - 40's, time is a few hundred years old). less of a fic and more snippets, but it's almost 7.5k+ words. i don't think i explicitly say which link it is, so i guess it's ambiguous? nephew is named because this would be a pain to write otherwise.

notes .. prompted (not inspired!!) by beauty and the beast, but also the batb fanfic i found after my friend showed my an nsfw ao3 tag account on twitter. beelzebub / lord of the flies from fear and hunger was a huge inspo for link / time's physical description but there is leeway for how he can be envisioned. he's still large as shit though lmao. the layout of the manor was this, only because i wouldn't be able to write this without knowing.

supposedly there's gonna be a second part. supposedly.

idk. i might hate this enough to just. not.

The Lost Woods wasn't as intimidating as everyone talked it up to be.

Yes, it felt like the trees moved when you turned your back to them, and, granted, there were a few mobs of monsters that could get the jump on you if you weren't paying attention, but you had managed to get away with a few scrapes the few times it had happened.

The only thing to keep you company was the howling winds that grew in intensity and your own thoughts that were sprawling into whatever corners they could reach, but that was fine. You'd gratefully take decades-old gossip from the next town over instead of the creeping paranoia of what was behind you.

Of course, you would willingly go through this, that, and whatever else one thousand times over if it meant finding your nephew— and to keep yourself from reprimanding yourself from reprimanding the teens that had dared him out into the woods, but that was another thing.

Along your investigation, you'd found a broken trail of breadcrumbs that led to nothing when you followed them. They were torn pieces of fabric from his clothes, just big enough to be noticeable but small enough to keep himself protected from the elements.

(You'll forever be thankful that a younger your drilled the idea into his head.)

You'd long since discovered calling his name was useless. The only thing you've managed to do was draw the attention of a few wandering stalfos dressed in clothes from centuries ago.

The ones that had managed to find weapons were always the most painful to deal with.

If your determination weren't so established, you would've lost your sanity within the first day.

Food and water were no issue, you were smart enough to pack more than a week's worth of both. There were non-perishable options and several choices for your nephew when you found him; he'd no doubt have his fair share of cravings after being lost for so long.

(Three days was an eternity to you.)

Just before the sun had reached its crest in the sky, you'd realized that there were more empty clearings than trees. Wildlife had become scarce as well.

Where deers and wolves previously ran abundant, birds and squirrels that ran from the smallest of noises replaced them.

The wind had calmed, at least. It no longer wanted to push and shove you in whatever direction it pleased or steal the bag full of items you brought along. You didn't have to hug your sweater to your chest in fear of it being ripped from your arms either.

Instead, it was still.

Admittedly, the clearing gives you more paranoia than anything else.

When your mind starts to wander to places you'd rather it not reach, you begin to hum a quiet tune to yourself— your nephew's favorite— and allow it to ground you.

You were here for a reason. You wouldn't leave until you found him. You'll be fine until you find him, and you'll find some way to live in the forest that refuses to let its inhabitants go peacefully.

It's hours later when you hear the first sound of life (or suspended death) that doesn't feel like a threat— though, in hindsight, you should've been smarter and more suspicious of it when you first heard it.

A high-pitched instrument repeats each croon you let out, eventually taking over and silencing you. You follow the tune without much of a thought. If it were some sort of elaborate trap to lure you in, you couldn't be mad at yourself if you fell for it.

Clusters of trees become less and less as you follow the instrument and its recreation of your nephew's song. You call his name and are met with nothing but the music (from an ocarina, you quickly recognize) growing louder as time passes.

To say you're shocked when a large and, admittedly, well-kept manor enters your field of view would be an understatement. It's covered in vines, invasive arrowroots, and spreading flowers, but looks lived in if the smoldering smoke slowly dissipating in the afternoon air was anything to go by.

You couldn't begin to imagine who lived inside before the woods took it over (or what lived in it now). The architecture says it predates the Hero split in four, but you doubted the inhabitants of the floating sky built something so elaborate when they returned to the surface.

Your eyes jump past the crumbling pillars and dilapidated statues to the half-glass double doors that seemed to open on their own.

The music was coming from inside the manor now.

Steeling your nerves and squaring your shoulders, your hand grips tight on the strap of your satchel as you walk up the stone stairs covered in moss. You have to hold onto the guardrail installed next to it just as tight. Looking down, you find the carvings of it sorely separating it from the older antiquity of the manor.

Taking in smaller details (for future escapes or weapons against whatever lived inside, you'd figure out later), you find that the small pools of water that came from the sides of the manor and ran and fell alongside the stairs you climbed held small clumps of straw-colored fur. Some caused the surrounding water to turn into a pink hue that reminded you of fairies you've seen in childrens' books.

(Your hand reaches into the satchel to make sure you brought all of your nephew's well-loved books as well as a novel or two for yourself.)

(You did, thankfully.)

There's a smell filled with musk that permeates the air the closer you get to the manor, thick with amber and ginger and it reminds you of the times you come across a pack of wolves during your childhood.

Upon entering the manor, you find it was strongest in the wing of the manor to your right. It took over almost the entirety of your senses, but it wasn't an unwelcome or overwhelming sensation. If you paid close enough attention, you could sense the homely feeling underneath the ferality of it.

You prayed you'd be able to tell when the beast returned; if it was gone in the first place.

You take close note of how the foyer wasn't truly a foyer with how it was filled with windows rather than walls that led to a courtyard and how the only way to enter the wings of the manor was the winded stairs that connected via the terrace.

You don't fail to notice how the wing coated in the musky scent is coated entirely in shadows despite all the sources of light.

You couldn't decide if you were thankful or filled with loathing at the idea of what roamed on that side of the manor.

It's a struggle to turn your eyes away from the darkened wing of the manor, but you do manage when the music picks up once more from the left wing. It's significantly brighter and doesn't fill you with a sense of dread as the right one does.

Trap be damned, your nephew was here, you knew it— you felt it.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you find that you're inside a parlor room that leads to three other pathways. One was a library, another was a dining room, and the last was a small hallway.

In any other situation, you'd explore some more. The supposed beast that possibly lived in the manor kept everything in better shape than what you'd expect— or hopefully it was the forest spirits that lived throughout the forest.

Hopefully, those same spirits kept your nephew safe.

You have to close your eyes to better determine where the music is coming from, the only thing you can hear beside it and your own breathing being the manor settling. Your ears guide you inside the hall and you find it branches into a corridor, a bathroom, and two bedrooms.

Common sense seems to leave you when you spot the back of your nephew's head. Your breath quickens as you watch him clap along with the ocarina, you force your eyes to keep their clarity when you hear him hum each note just as you remember.

"''ire," you call in a weaker voice than you intended or thought you had. The nickname he claimed he hated so much tumbled from your lips so easily as you rushed inside the room, one arm rushing to remove your satchel while the other reached out to almost check if he was real.

The Lost Woods were known for their tricks, after all.

When he turns to face you, he's scrambling over himself in the bed. You're able to see how he limps on his right ankle and knee, how the entirety of his limbs were wrapped in bandage wrap as though done by a child. There was no blood, so you hold off on checking him over.

(The bandages were stained, thankfully not with blood. It was mostly dust and grime.)

(You'd have to sanitize whatever was wrong.)

You meet him more than halfway when you catch the way he winces and hisses with each movement.

"Auntie— Auntie— Titi!" His voice is airy as he speaks, emotion causing his words to come out as chokes. His arms reciprocated the tight hug you had on him, forcibly keeping his arms from trembling due to either nerves or injuries. "Titi, Titi, Titi!"

The way he says the word makes him sound like some chittering bug. If you listened hard enough, you could tell how his teeth clattered together, but you couldn't decipher if it was from a chill or emotion.

All you wanted to do was keep his head against the crook of your shoulder and neck while you pressed kisses to the crown of his head and kept him as close to you as you could, but you knew better.

Pulling away, you reach back for the satchel that you previously discarded. "What's wrong? What happened?" You force your voice to even out when you speak, hands already reaching for his arms after you sit the bag against your hip.

He shakes his head, but you've known him long enough to know there was something wrong. "They're from when I first went in the forest," he answers, voice quivering. "It's all healed. I think."

He doesn't push your hands away or pull his arms back when you skillfully unravel the bandages, carefully pulling and prodding the scars that littered the skin, and he was telling the truth despite the coloring.

"Did you forage like I taught you? Why are most of them green?"

"The spirits."

"The spirits?"

"And the soldier." He looks over your shoulder as though searching for their figures. "I haven't seen him yet, though."

Your eyes squint as one of your hands rubs over the strange texture of the scar, the other reaching for the antiseptic and clean fabric in your bag. "Are these spirits children or small trees with masks?"

You'd heard of both in legend. No one's ever seen them.

You're not sure which you'd rather watch over your nephew.

His eyes drift to his side before peering back over your shoulder once again. His brows furrow as he thinks of how to answer, head tilting as his pupils dilate.

"Both," he answers, "and ones that look like scarecrows. I asked them to bring you."

You force your gaze to keep itself on your nephew. You wouldn't let it wander to spirits you couldn't even see. "The ocarina?" You instead ask another question jumping around your mind, sucking your tongue in appreciation when he nods. "Smart boy."

An airy laugh leaves him, his face lighting up with a smile. "Learned from the best," he snorts.

You risk pressing kisses to the apples of his cheeks and forehead at his flattery, hands cupping themselves on the nape of his neck to bring him closer.

A younger him would push you away without a second thought, whining on about how you were embarrassing him in front of his friends.

He lets you do so now regardless of the spirits that surround you both.

"What've you been eating?" Your hands drop to his biceps when you pull away. They weren't thin like you'd expect them to be after three days in the forest; they were fatter than they had been before he left. "Who's been feeding you?"

His answer of "the Soldier," is quicker than you would've liked. "He goes out and hunts. He always brings back meat. I think it's deer.. it tastes.. bland."

"He.. cooks it, right?"

Another laugh wracks through your nephew's body. He knows you're only being cautious, but he can't help it.

"All the way through," he hums, flexing his arms when they start feeling stiff. "I think I don't like it because it's not your cooking."

He knows what your response is going to be before he finishes speaking, years of having lived under your guidance making him attuned to the smallest of your movements.

When your expression shifts from being relieved to disappointment with a twitch of your eye, he can tell you're not pleased with his statement.

Dousing the fabric in the antiseptic, you take his arm in your hand and begin wiping it down. "Don't be rude." Your voice takes on a less-than-pleased rasp, speaking lowly as if you knew the Soldier was near; but you still apologize when the sting sets in. "Have you thanked him?"

(You're sure you would continue to speak quietly regardless of the context of the conversation. You didn't want to risk "the Soldier," doing anything unfavorable.)

(Your nephew's words of praise did little to ease your stressed heart.)

"I never know when he's here. He drops the food off while I'm asleep. He brings books and carvings too." He watches as you wrap his arm in another roll of (cleaner) bandages, undoing the old one on his other arm while you prepare another piece of fabric. "The Spirits say I'm the most excitement he's had in a while, so he doesn't mind."

His voice was beginning to grow hoarse from speaking so quietly. You tap his throat to tell him to relax.

"They say he's nice," he continues, doing as told. Tapping the fingers of his now free hand against your shin, he tries to recall what all they've told him.

"I think they said he used to live in another part of the woods when he was a kid?—" His eyes glance back over your shoulder, suddenly becoming sure of himself. "— Ah. They did. They said he left and came back when he was older."

You raise a brow but don't speak your question.

Your nephew takes hold of your retreating hands in both of his.

A clatter and snippy huff outside the bedroom door rouses you from your light sleep.

Nearing a week into your stay at the manor, you'd think you'd be more accustomed to the noise, but you aren't.

You carefully remove your nephew's head from your arm, using even more caution when trying to remove the conjoined weight of several spirits from your legs as you slip out of the bed.

It's hard, but you manage to do so without waking any of them— you hope.

(You still couldn't see any of the Spirits, but over time you could feel when they crowded around you and when the wind moved as they rushed past you.)

The floorboards creak beneath your feet.

You hear the sound of claws scratching against the floor on the other side of the door.

Pressing the crown of your head against the door, you tap your fingers along the handle to give the Soldier a warning and wait a few moments.

If you listened hard enough, you swear you could hear him scurrying into one of the other rooms before he shut the door behind him.

It reminded you of a dog.

Smiling to yourself, you're careful opening the door, keeping your head to it and your eyes on the floor. You turn to the other side of it to close it, waiting for the click of the lockset to speak.

"Are you decent?"

His confused "huh," sounds more akin to a gasp than any other noise.

You rap your fingers against the handle again. "Can I look up?"

"Oh—" he sounds choked. "Yeah— Yes. Yes. You can. Sorry."

"Thank you," you hum, leaning down to pick up the tray of food. It consisted of almost entirely meat with a few vegetables you figure are exclusive to the woods. "For both the food and taking care of my nephew."

There was a thumping noise behind the door, the frequency of it was like a tail beating excitedly.

The Soldier lets out a croaking noise and you know his mouth started moving before his mind was able to catch up. "No, I should thank you for looking for him— and for telling him not to use his name."

You let out an airy laugh. "It's common knowledge where I'm from. I wouldn't be a good parental figure if I didn't."

Another noise leaves the Soldier as you fix yourself to open the door. You can't discern what this one means. "I don't know when they started calling me the Soldier, but it's not— uhm.. A favorite.. of mine."

"Oh?"

"Soldier," he sounds more confident in himself and you don't have the heart to tell him you heard him the first time, "it's a nickname. I don't know where the kids got it, but I don't like it."

Readjusting the tray to rest against your hip and forearm rather than in both your hands, you hum curiously. "So what should we be calling you?"

He pauses longer than you'd think it'd take to remember your own name, but you wait.

"Link."

"Link?"

"Yes."

"Like in a chain?"

".. Yes."

You nod even though you're sure he can't see you. "I'll be sure to tell 'ire."

"Thank you." There's more thumping from behind the door.

"And thank you."

There's another noise from Link you struggle to understand, but you figure it's because he starves for conversation. "I heard what your nephew said about the food, too. I'll try to find something to flavor it with next time I'm out."

"Thank you," you repeat. Your eyes curve with your smile. "He'll greatly appreciate it."

Link raps his fingers against the door in response, but he doesn't say anything. You take that as your queue to reenter the bedroom.

"How come your side of the house is always dark?"

You gently pinch your nephew's elbow and he swats your hand away, leaning impossibly close to the door that separates him and Link.

There are a few moments of silence from the man that 'ire filled with bated breath. Link takes an audible, steadying breath before knocking what you think is his nail against the door.

"I wouldn't want to scare you both off."

It was an answer you expected, but you were disappointed nonetheless.

"Boo," your nephew groans. You're sure Link could hear the pout in his voice if the quiet chuckle he lets out was anything to go by. "You can't be worse than what I've seen out there."

There's genuine intrigue in the noise Link lets out. "Oh? What exactly have you seen then?"

Pure excitement fills your nephew's expression when he turns to look at you from over his shoulder. His fingers tap against the floor restlessly, tongue already listing off whatever monsters he's encountered (read: come up with) in his twelve years of life.

"— but their teeth are the worst! They're poisonous and there isn't a cure for it!"

You have no clue as to what creature he was talking of now. There were at least fifteen of them who injected poison through their teeth, eight of which had no cure.

(You don't have to strain as hard to see the Spirits as you did two weeks ago. The shadows and light shift around then as they move to sit around your nephew, seemingly hooked on your nephew's every word.)

(You remember when he would crowd himself around you similarly whenever you would tell him a story.)

You close the book that sat in your lap more for decoration than entertainment at that point and place a hand over your heart.

"I drew a lot of them too! My aunt brought them with her!" He pushes himself through the motions of standing up before immediately stopping and returning to his seat in front of the door. "I'll show them to you if you eat dinner with us!"

There are a few stammering noises from the other side of the door and yet you can't bring yourself to apologize for your nephew's bargaining.

Your own curiosity was quickly starting to get the better of you against your wishes.

The noise he had made several nights before makes itself heard again. His claws (you discovered those a few nights ago) scratch against the wooden flooring as he moves to sit against the other wall rather than the door, his voice moving with him.

"I don't want to— I wouldn't want— want to disturb you— either of you." His words are muffled by the door and his growing quietness, a  regretful lilt stuck in his throat. "But thank you for the offer."

If he truly didn't want to join you and your nephew (and the spirits) for dinner, he was terrible at showing it.

"I know I wouldn't mind," you hum, standing to put away the book. A loud thumping makes the floor vibrate and 'ire has to stifle a laugh. "I wouldn't mind picking up a pot and pan again either."

"No!" Link quickly apologizes for his tone after realizing his outburst. "You don't have to. I wouldn't be a good host if I made you do that."

"Are you scared I'll poison you?"

Your nephew's voice drops to a whisper he swears you won't be able to hear. "She can't. She's the best cook ever."

You're not sure how the two correlate, but you'd take thew compliment.

"She won't?" Link's voice drops to entertain your nephew despite his earlier convictions. It takes on a playful direction, fur rubbing against the wood-tiled floors in excitement (based on prior interactions). "You've never gotten sick? Not once?"

'ire begins to shake his head but quickly stops. "Only from eating too much— which you will do, by the way. Best cook around," he reiterates.

Link chuckles, tapping his fingers against the floor restlessly. It takes him a moment to come up with something to say and neither of you push him to hurry.

You were both too hooked on his every word to do so anyway.

"I'll.." He's shy for all the attention. You wonder when the last time he got so much focus on him outside of the spirits. ".. I'll be sure to think about your offer. Why don't you tell me about a few of your monsters so I have more of an incentive?"

Your nephew jumps on the opportunity while you think over the plethora of recipes in your mind.

It wasn't rare for one of the imps to accompany you outside when you went foraging.

You never strayed too far from the manor— the last time you had been dragged outside of the area you had designated for yourself (and your nephew) by the children, Link had to come and rescue to lot of you before the sun had gotten too low.

Suffice to say, it was a rather humbling experience.

Kneeling, squatting, or sitting on the ground had never been easy on your knees or back, but the grass below you had felt as though it were a pillow hailing from the Heavens itself.

Your body works on picking herbs from the ground before placing them in your bag repurposed for your (new) everyday tasks while your mind wanders elsewhere.

You're humming to yourself when a twig snapping breaks your focus.

It was a nice reminder that the imps hadn't, in fact, accompanied you that day.

Your head lifts to survey the surrounding woods. Your entire body was still, mimicking a deer caught on a hunting trip.

There was nothing immediately in your line of sight that could be seen as a threat, but you had lived a long enough life to know that wasn't enough reason to let your guard down.

You're slow to rise to your feet and your ears are strained as you listen for whatever had made the noise.

"I'm sorry!"

You can feel your body relax when you hear Link's voice call out from behind a tree. You sink back to your knees without much thought, clutching the fabric of your top to calm your battering heart.

You weren't sure what you were going to do if it were an actual danger anyway.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he continues. His arms move and you can see one drop against the side of a tree while the other tightens around the corpse of an animal. "You were so still, I wasn't sure if you were okay."

A quiet, breathless noise leaves you. You're not sure if he could hear it, but you can see his shoulders relax when you do. "You're— You're fine! I just.. didn't know that you'd be out and about at this time."

When the hand not occupied with that week's dinner (barely) lifts to grab ahold of a tree branch, you're shocked to just now find out how tall he is.

"It's not your fault. I didn't know you were out here," he grunts while gently tugging at the branch. "Are you alone?"

Your eyes drop to the flora that surrounds you to not feel so invasive. Your fingers rub against the blades of grass idly when a restless feeling overtakes you. "A few of the kids said they'd join me later, but I'm not too sure when that's supposed to be." A short, genuine laugh leaves you. "I wouldn't be surprised if they forgot."

Link lets out his own, quiet laughter that you can only clue together when you see the entire tree shake in your peripheral. "I wouldn't take it to heart. They say they'll join me in hunting all the time but never do."

"Have you ever given them a stern talking to? I've heard that usually works with spirits."

"They barely listen to me as is. I think you'd have more luck than me."

"Is that an offer?"

"Are you headed home now?"

A strange vice tightens around your heart at his wording while you look through your bag. "Mhm," you hum, standing now that your legs aren't like that of a newborn. "You'll have to remind me of the way, though."

"I can guide you," he hums in reply. "You just can't look back."

Turning your back to him, you're surprised you don't jump when a sharp claw gives a ghostly touch to the center of your back.

You're shocked that you disregard the urge to check over your shoulder every step back to the manor.

You were no stranger to 'ire's night terrors.

They'd gotten better over the past few years as he aged, but all that progress had been undone during the near month you'd been in the forest.

Wiping away the tears that had managed to slip out, you ignore the prickly and uncomfortable feeling that comes with keeping your lulling head up so you can watch him.

You'd done it a thousand times before and would do it one thousand and one more if it meant he felt better.

You don't miss how his grip on your arm tightens when you start humming his favorite song. Your hand trails up to his hairline, nails (claws?) tracing the paint on his face that refused to fade.

You'd spent so long trying to scrub them and the green marks off, you hadn't even realized his skin had started to pale into a sickly grey in patches while darkening into (what looked like) a necrotic black in others.

You didn't even want to think about the changes that had started coming to your body.

You were, however, thankful you weren't thinning into a stalfos.

"You're not as sneaky as you'd like to think."

"How'd you know?"

"I have a young nephew. You learn quickly."

A brief laugh leaves Link from behind the cracked door. Though you didn't face him, you could see the way his eyes illuminated the wall in front of you, even managed to catch on some of 'ire's face.

It was a pretty blue color.

You don't comment on it.

"What's wrong?" Your voice has a deep rasp to it, your hand continuing to stroke your nephew's face even after he begins to calm down.

He'd slowly begun dropping more and more barriers (physical and mental) when it came to communicating with you both, having taken up shadows in their stead. He had gotten more confident in conversation as well, stammering and stuttering less the longer your nephew forced him to talk.

It makes you wonder how long it'd take for him to finally make true on those dinner plans.

"I heard him," Link hums just as quietly, the glow of his eyes moving to instead look over the sleeping spirits that crowded themselves around the space not occupied on the bed. "I was worried. Do you want help with them?"

A soft laugh leaves you when one of the imps buries their head onto your calf as though it were a pillow. "They've been like this since we first got here. 'ire," you press a kiss to his forehead when he rouses, waiting for him to settle before speaking again, "says they like to cling."

"You don't mind?"

"He's not too far off from them nowadays."

"Does he miss anything?"

Laying on your back, you being 'ire's head to rest against your shoulder. Your gaze is finally able to see how he'd take up all of the doorway (and then some) through the crack of the door.

You'd be shocked he hadn't flinched away if it hadn't been for the way his hand reached out to clasp it.

The tips of his fingers reached well past the frame of the door, his claws further, and you could only imagine just how much space he was taking up in the small hallway.

You were confident he could fit five or six of you in his hand without trying.

Your eyes jump back to the three (possibly four?) eyes before he can become self-conscious.

"Almost everything," you answer after pulling yourself from your thoughts. "His clothes, his dolls.. He could go without his friends, though."

His eyes jump from your face to the window as he huffs out a nervous laugh. It makes you wonder if he knows something you don't, but you don't push. "And you?"

"Hmm?"

"And yourself," he clarifies, "what do you miss?"

You're silent.

What exactly did you miss?

The feeling of your village's grass between your toes after the rain, the baker's treats that no other could replicate, being a part of such a tight-knit community, the sun after a particularly muggy morning—

There wasn't any need to be a sap.

"I'm not sure," you finally say after a long period of silence. You hadn't realized your eyes had left Link, yet when you force your gaze back to him, he holds it without issue. "I struggled with becoming attached to things unlike 'ire."

"Hm."

"What?"

"I can't remember the last time someone said something like that."

"You have visitors like us often?"

"More than you'd think."

"And what's become of them?"

The glow of his eyes drops to the sleeping spirits that litter before looking to the window again and you quickly understand.

The hum that leaves your throat is more lackluster than you intended it to be, but given how quickly the topic had changed, you give yourself the grace.

"Well," you start after clearing your throat, "what's something that you miss?"

The manor creaks when Link leans against a wall and his confidence in the movement tells you more than you'd expected.

You don't think you'd ever have the same amount of trust he held in it.

There's a playful tone in his voice when he speaks, one of his hands raised to scratch against his chin. "You'd have to promise not to be dramatic when I say."

"Is it my fault you use such outdated terms thousands of years behind my time?"

Link turns away to stifle his laughter, shrouding the room in darkness and forcing your eyes to strain with it.

"I can't say I've had the easiest experience understanding you or your nephew's sayings," he hums, drowning you in the light of his eye when he turns back, "the kids have to keep filling me in."

"Shame, and here I thought you'd been closer to my age. Have you been leading me on this entire time?"

Link's claws knock against the wall, his tail wagging against the floor while he huffs his amusement. "Have I? When I don't even know your name?"

If the weight of 'ire wasn't on your shoulder, you're sure you would've had a physical reaction of some sort.

"It'd do you good to not forget it," he hums, the movement of his tail slowing until it stops entirely. "Titi and Auntie, as much as I hate to say it, won't do much good."

Another lackluster noise leaves you as the arm trapped underneath your nephew lifts to rub your thumb during his forehead. "How fun."

"The kids are too attached to do anything now." The door slowly creaks open before stopping. It shuts so there's only a crack instead. "You'll be fine to share your name now."

"You never answered my question."

"Which one?"

"I haven't asked a lot," you huff before taking a softer tone, eyes rolling closed. "What is it that you miss?"

Link quietly snorts, muffling it by pressing his face to the door. He takes a steadying breath before saying a quiet, "a lot, I suppose. I can't name just a few things." A low noise leaves him, it's similar to a growl. "My friends? Playing music as well— my hands aren't good for much but skewering these days. My horse, Epona, too. She was the prettiest mare."

"Is she red with a white mane?"

"You saw the kids' drawings?"

"I've seen her before, I think— or maybe it was a hallucination?" The hand stroking 'ire's forehead stops as you scrounge your memories. "When I saw her outside the forest, I knew it was real. Another fated hero was mounting her."

You'd like to think yourself a master of figuring out what each noise he makes is meant to mean, but the one Link lets out once you finish speaking is short and of a higher pitch than normal.

When he begins to stammer over his words as he had when you first interacted with him, it feels like years' worth of progress has been undone.

"I— uhm— You— I don't— err— Thank—"

His tail thumps three times before he knocks his head against the door with a heavy groan. He lets out a quiet "Hylia, be damned," you couldn't help but think he hoped you wouldn't hear to go along with his frustration.

"It's been a long night," you finally prompt. "You'd best get some shut-eye before 'ire bombards you with more from his imagination, yeah?"

"Yeah," Link answers in a weak voice. "Yeah," he repeats to himself more than anything, "of course. Good night," he steps away from the door. "Sleep well."

"Same for you."

The night Link finally takes you and 'ire up on your offer for dinner, your nephew and the spirits had taken to floating around the east wing's dining room to prepare it for such a grand event.

"Titi, titi!" One of the Kokiri exclaims, tugging at the fabric of your skirt (that Link had made out of a spare bedsheet). Her voice had a strange echo to it— all of them, really— and had given you migraines up until you'd finally become accustomed to it. "'ire says that you'll make your world-famous pudding! Will you? Will you?"

You ignore her exaggeration in favor of forcing yourself to wrench your eyes away unless you wanted her puppy dog face to work on you. "Should I? I.. I can't say any of you have been acting well enough to deserve it.."

Even in your peripheral, it's not hard to miss the absolutely crushed look on her face. Her eyes were wide and her bottom lip wobbling like she was about to cry despite your joking tone.

"But why—y," she whines, dragging the last syllable on while hiccuping on her breath as she went on. You know the tears pooling in her eyes are just as fake as your rejection of her request— but you know just as well who'll win the battle at the end of the day.

"I—" hiccup. "Want—" hiccup. "Cake—" hiccup.

You raise a brow. "Pudding or cake, sweetheart? I can't make both."

The girl begins to climb your back while you return to sautéing the vegetables, arms wrapping around your neck so she can press her cheek against yours. "Cake! No, pudding! No! Cake! No—"

"I'll tell you what," you interrupt, taking the pan from over the open flame once the food is charred to your liking. Your skin thanks you when you step away and douse the fire, the arid air leaving through the open window. "Why don't you ask a few of the others which they want then we can try and get Link to bake it after dinner?"

The girl jumps off your back with stars practically filling her eyes. She cries out for several names while she runs off, hands clapping excitedly as she shouts out the change in plans.

You're left in peace until your nephew enters with his journals clutched between his arms, bouncing between his feet while he watches you finish plating each food item on dishes you could only dream of owning where you're from.

"D'you think he'll come?" 'ire's voice is low, almost as though scared Link will hear. You know he does if the night of his nightmares a few months ago were anything to go by— but he didn't need to know that.

"He'd better," you answer in an equally low tone. "I didn't spend so long slaving away at this just for him not to."

"Is that a threat?"

The plates in your hands aren't spared by the flinch that wracks through your body. Your reflexes are quick to catch them before any of the food can hit the floor.

'ire, on the other hand, has no issue with voicing his shock in the form of a scream, scurrying from the doorway while dropping his journals. He jumps behind you, hands clutching the fabric of your skirt while he hides himself behind your hip.

"Well?"

Placing a hand over your racing heart after putting the plates down, your other hand comes down to rest on 'ire's head. "It's rude to sneak up on people, you know."

The blond fur of his chest rustles with his laughter. It was difficult to see much else other than that, what with the way he hid himself behind the wall connecting the kitchen to the pantry.

You hadn't even heard his footsteps or creaking floorboards when he first approached. Had he been there the entire time and 'ire hadn't seen him, or had he only walked in after 'ire entered?

You wondered if he was naturally quiet or if he just learned which floorboards were loose.

"Is it sneaking when you were expecting me?" Link's voice is lighter than it usually is, a slight tremble could even be heard if you focused on it enough. He rocks on his feet and briefly leans forward, a less organic-looking side profile coming into view before leaving right after. "If I knew I would be this unwelcomed, I—"

"That's a joke, right?" 'ire stomps away from your side while he speaks, stepping over his discarded compilations of works to stare up at Link with wide eyes. Your nephew ignores the way Link's hands raise to cover his face and how he backs away as soon as he pivots in his foot to face him. "You're not actually gonna pansy out, right?"

Your feet lead you to the two before you can have much of a thought. "Zaire," you say in a terse voice, taking hold of his shoulder and bringing him against your front so you can stop him from interrogating the poor man. "Don't be rude."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

Whatever argument he has dies on his tongue when he takes a good, long look at Link. His mouth gaped open like a fish, one of his fingers lifting so he could push it into the fur of his stomach, watching the skin beneath sink with the force of it as though it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"Woah."

If you had any less sense of dignity, you'd let yourself have the same reaction.

"Don't be rude," you reiterate, pushing Zaire's hand down until it finally reaches its rightful place at his side.

"No," Link breathes into his palms, clearing his voice to try and rid it of the anxiety (and, possibly, humiliation). "He's— he's fine. This wouldn't be the first time someone responded like that. I'd be more concerned if he did any other way."

Zaire shrugs your hands from your shoulders, stepping until he is toe-to-claw with Link. "Then why are you hiding your face? It can't be that bad," he says, tugging at the fur of Link's elbows, rubbing them between his fingers so he could better be accustomed to the texture.

Spreading his fingers enough so you both could see the four holes in the inorganic material, Link lets out another heavy breath. "I'm self-conscious," he can tell the answer doesn't please Zaire and continues speaking, "It's been.. too long.. since I've shown anyone either of my faces."

"A mask is.." Your voice falters off when you finally find the words to speak, losing them again when you fail to find a proper way to articulate your thoughts.

"It's mostly you and the kids, no?" You try again when you figure out a way to better word it. "Is a mask not.. Is it.. necessary?"

When the blue light that emits from his eyes lifts to look at you, an unidentifiable emotion shoots through you. He holds your gaze for a few, silent moments before turning his head and dropping his hands.

"It's like a second skin," he simply offers.

"Sad," Zaire sighs, backing away and turning until he stood in the center of the kitchen. "Can you still eat with it? Like I said, Auntie is the best cook in all the realms and you have to taste it to believe it."

Curse your nephew's skill of lightening a mood.

Rather than let his insecurities keep him from looking at either of you for the duration of the night, Link looks down at Zaire with a playful jolt of his shoulders. "It's not fused with my face."

Zaire's eyes curl into crescents while he grabs two of the plates from the counter. "Good!" His tail (a terrifying new addition when he first started changing) wraps around the third dish, walking himself past the two of you in the pantry so he could place each one on the dining table. "You'll love this then! Auntie," you don't miss the way he adds your name causally, "always makes this on a big day!"

Link repeats your name under his breath before doing the same with Zaire's. He lets out a thoughtful nod as each one rolls off his tongue, one pair of eyes looking at you while the other continues to follow your nephew.

He wrings his hands together when he catches the way you examined him oh-so-carefully, arms crossed with your head tilted.

"It's nice," he gulps as though every inch of nervousness had reentered his body. "It's a nice name. I like it. It suits you."

You don't know if you were teasing him prior, but you decide to do so now.

"I'd hope so." You pat a hand against his arm as you walk into the kitchen, ignoring the oily feel of his fur. You ignore the feeling of him watching and instead focus on searching through the cupboards for the drink you had foraged around to make just days before. "I could say the exact same for you, thankfully."

"Now, why don't you have a seat so I can play host this time?"