#trying to sew chaos

[chunkypossum]

Ch. 26 Changing Course

Read Kerosene Ch 26 on Ao3 A couple days early because I can ...

More angst...

He had spent nearly an hour sitting on the bathroom floor, wings curled in around him, just gently stroking the bond, letting Eris know he was still there. At one point, something tugged back, and it wasn’t Eris.

If I told you I was sorry would you believe me? Good, you're learning. Were's in the last 100 pages of every SJM book ever written so ... buckle up because it's not getting better yet!

If you want on or off the tag train just holla at ya boi ... @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @pathfinderofnight @acourtofladydeath @fell-in-luvs @fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @pippsmcgee @secret-third-thing

[tj-crochets]

Three more 12.5” square blocks* done for my scrap management quilt, and I’m just 22 3.5” squares short of having enough for a 60” by 72” quilt. Idk if I’ll leave it there or add one more row to make it more of a proper twin size? Idk

*they don’t look square because they aren’t ironed yet, but they are squares I swear lol

[monstriiss]

oh boy I sure love that tumblr has been unfollowing people for me while ive been away and now I have to try and figure out who I'm missing and then determine if ive been soft blocked instead 🙃

[justiceburst]

Moral Alignment Test

Goro is 18.3% good, tied between chaotic and lawful, making him true neutral.

[phoenixdown-and-fairydust]

If my cat could NOT TRY TO SNIFF A HOT IRON AND NEARLY SINGE HER WHISKERS OFF that would be great thanks

[snckt]

what if i just ✂️

[friedbreadwombat]

What the fuck is minecraft as a game system i swear to god there are so many holes

[fraugwinska]

Dude, i had an idea out of nowhere, and in my head it's so funny for no reason ☠️☠️ So, you know that theres like, that canon drawing that Alastor made for Angel's birthday?

((https://twitter.com/HazbinHotel/status/1642135435085217793?t=U6Kzncfye-QAjtJYy8R23A&s=19) This one)

So like, imagine that is Alastor's S/o birthday, and he decided to make her a drawing like that ☠️ idk it's weirdly funny in my head

So - a few things need to be said.

1. I know that Alastor canonically likes to doodle, and ever since episode 1 we really know just how awfully funny these doodles are.

2. what I didn't know was what the hell you were talking about, so I looked it up and... my god. The snorts I snaughted, the wheezes I whoze, the cackles I cuckled. He may be a 'gentleman', he may try to behave cordial and appear classy, but Doodle-Artist-Alastor is a fucking menace, no filter and so snappy, holy shit.

3. Now, for my highly professional opinion (*cough cough*) of what would happen if you, Alastor's s/o, would get a picture like this as a birthday gift. In front of everyone.

❤️ You agreed on celebrating your birthday, as redundant as you thought it was, only under the condition that no one would buy you a gift. If they wanted to hand you a present, you wanted it to be a small, handmade thing, valuing their time and thought behind it much more than the actual thing.

❤️ Everyone would hold true to this request, and the gifts you get match the giver perfectly.

❤️ Charlie and Vaggie crafted together, handing you a bejeweled jewelry box covered in glitter glue and snippets of photos they had taken of you and the gang over the time you were guest in the hotel.

❤️ Niffty, being both skilled in sewing and the chaos gremlin she is, presents you with a abysmal looking pile of different, sewn-together fabrics. You turn and twist it in your hands, thanking her without knowing what it is, until you find a golden snap lock hidden in the masses of layers. It's a very inconvenient coin purse.

❤️ Opening Angels gift has everyone holding their breath - preparing for something phallic, kinky or lewd. instead, you squeal as you pack a crochet version of Fat Nuggets, including his stubby little horns. Angels smug expression at the sheer surprise at his very unusual (and unexpected) talent of the gang quickly turns to a sweet smile as you crush him with your hug, telling him how much you love it.

❤️ Husk's gift for you is nothing corporeal. Instead, he announces he'd teach you one of his many magic tricks he often did for your sheer delight at your many evenings at the bar. He blushes a bit when you thank him with a kiss on his cheek.

❤️ Alastor would wait to be the last one to present his gift - it's known the best is always saved for last. He hands you a large envelope. Curiously you open it, careful not to tear it, and pull out a thick sheet of paper

❤️ Five heads hang over your shoulder, five pairs of eyes widen at the sight: The paper is full of scribbled doodles, a crude, macabre looking version of yourself in the middle, around it splatters of what looks like blood, grinning faces, and scribbled words: cutie pie - talks in her sleep - MINE MINE MINE - I love Alastor (in a speech bubble over your head)

❤️ Reactions would be mixed, Charlie would find it weirdly adorable, Niffty would point out anything she likes with bashful giggles, Vaggie would be as disturbed as Husk, while Angel would make fun of it, laughing while mocking the quality of the drawing.

❤️ you however, would be torn between genuine laughter and earnest emotionality you've never received something handmade from Alastor. He'd often shower you in little tokens of care, a bouquet of flowers, a new necklace, a dress or a scarf he's seen at Rosie's. You found it not only endearing, the thought of him, dressed in his pompous attire sitting at his bureau, drawing this made your heart ache with affection.

❤️ Quietly staring at the picture, Alastor would interpret your silence as veiled ridicule, and vanish into shadows, retreating. He had failed, his gift shown to be juvenile and lacking. Sulking, he would avoid you for the rest of the evening, only returning to your shared room when night already fell and everyone was fast asleep

❤️ He would find you in deep slumber, cheeks a bit puffy and shimmering from trails of dried tears. He'd tilt his head in curiosity, wondering what would've possibly made you cry, then he sees it - his painting, clutched in your hands and pressed to your heart.

❤️ He'd hurry to change for the night, scolding himself for drawing hast conclusions - he should know you better. When he gently pulls the paper from you to set it aside, youd awake, reaching out to him, starting to apologize for not giving him an appropriate reaction.

❤️ alastor would shush you, slipping into bed with you, and give you your other, much more intimate present.

[dellalyra]

Hi love I’m back for a bit anyways I was going through my notes and I saw your folder with request ideas that I had and didn’t request yet and since you finally hit 2k i can still do it so yay!

You remember that scene in the manga where they had to train gojos infinity by basically throwing things at him? Yeah so what I was thinking is that moment and also just to make it funnier I just know they were throwing things at him at the speed of light just to make sure something hits him and they moved up to heavier massive objects just for fun so something like that please. :)

ᴜɴᴡɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴇꜱᴛ ꜱᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ - ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

Pixie Says: this was so fun soraya you are my queen I stg I loved writing this

“Did it hit?” You shout across the field.

“No! Do it again?” Satoru’s voice echoes back.

Shoko hands Geto another tennis ball, and he proceeds to fire it across the field - towards an unperturbed Gojo.

“What about that one?” Shoko asks.

“Nope! Do something bigger! Geto - where’s our basketball?” The white haired man says, with all the excitement of a puppy.

Geto rolls his eyes, but smiles slightly - a rare sight these days - as he wanders toward the dorms to grab his ball.

“Think fast!” Shoko shouts, throwing an apple at Gojo’s head.

The apple splits in half and falls to the floor as you and Shoko cheer with Gojo at yet another object infinity can reflect.

Geto jogs towards them, and tosses the orange basketball at his best friend - it bounces straight off and back toward Geto who grabs it in one large hand.

“Okay - we gotta think bigger.” You say, hands on your hips and looking around the courtyard.

Shoko strolls off, only to come back a second later with a chair from one of the classrooms.

“Jesus Koko - I meant like - a pillow.” You try to take the chair but Gojo interrupts by shouting ‘throw the chair!’.

Ever the dutiful girlfriend, you allow Geto to swing the chair toward your man who is gleefully jumping at the prospect of having a chair flung in his direction.

The wood splits in half and falls with a clunk to the ground. Geto claps and whoops at the mess left, all four of you cheering, a mutual love of chaos being the thing that bonded you all three years ago.

“Okay but these are all like, blunt things. Can it stop weapons? Y/N, throw a knife at him.” Shoko says, patting down your thigh to find the holster you keep under your uniform skirt.

“Get your morguey hands outta my girl’s skirt, Ieiri!” Satoru shouts, tossing a tennis ball back at her.

“What about a knife, ‘toru?” You say, fully confident in your love’s abilities to not get stabbed (again).

You had been witness to his crazed intent to become stronger, and almost invincible, over the past few months since the incident. Marks left on everyone, a slight scar on Gojo’s pale throat, crisscrossed scars spanning the width of Geto’s broad chest - the scar of the sound of a gunshot penetrating a sweet girl’s head haunting every dream, hands stained with the blood of her best friends and the memory of shaking hands as she sewed their wounds shut for Shoko and the image of your soulmate bleeding out in your lap and the slash of scar across your thigh from the blow he landed as you tried to deflect him from Satoru.

If one good thing had come from it, it was the fact that it contributed toward the push you and Satoru both needed for getting your heads out of your asses and finally confessing just how much you loved each other that day after the mission in the abandoned hospital.

So you didn’t worry.

Shaking the thoughts from your head you whip your dagger out and spin it between your fingers.

“Ready, ‘toru.” You ask, smiling.

“Always, princess.” He smirks back.

You fling the knife with eerie precision toward him and see it clatter to the ground below an unscathed Gojo.

Another chorus of cheers erupts.

“We need to think even bigger.” Shoko says, deep in thought.

“I’ve got exactly the thing.” Geto says, smirk gracing his features as he looks straight toward you, and in one fast swoop you find yourself in his arms as he prepares to launch you across the field.

“Geto Suguru don’t you dare throw me! I swear to god I will fucking - AGHHHHHH.” Your words of warning are interrupted as you feel yourself fly through the air and then as soon as it started it stops with a jolt and a pair of strong arms wrapping around you, a sheen of sweat sticking to your skin.

You open your eyes, laughing at the turn of events, and see a pair of ice blue eyes, the colour which has been your favourite since you were 16, staring back at you with a wide smile.

“You caught me!” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck and realising that he’s switched his infinity off to hold you.

“Only a fool would drop a girl like you.” He says, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as you smile.

“I can’t believe you just quoted scooby-doo and kissed me.” You say, burying your head into his neck.

“You love me.” He says, shrugging.

“That’s exactly why I love you.” You giggle as he gently returns you to solid ground.

“I love you more, but now, I believe you have revenge to enact.” He pats your head, and fixes your shirt.

“I do, thank you, ‘toru.” A peck on the cheek as you stand on the tips of your toes. You smile at him, and turn around.

“GETO SUGURU! YOU BASTARD, GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!” You sprint toward the man who is laughing and beginning to back away slowly - away from the wrath of the future Mrs.Gojo.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Vampire!Rhysand x reader: Mercy, Devil

A/N: I meant to write this for October since it sounded spooky, but honestly I’m happy I didn’t because now I get to write something supernatural in the lead up to Christmas!

Warnings: blood, vampirism, eventual poly relationship

Word Count: 5,064

-Part 2-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

You’ve always had a strange fixation with the phantasmal night of all hallows eve. Something particular about the thought of ghastly apparitions being freed to sew discord and chaos through the monotony of everyday life entices your pulse to spike dangerously. Blood thrumming in your veins.

Clouds seal the full moon to the sky, casting shadows throughout the already dense and dark woodland. Twigs snap and crackle beneath your feet as you continue along the path through the ancient forest. Gnarled branches reach into your way, like talons of some malignant beast stretching to grasp you in its claws. Heart bumps against its cage, pale robes swishing provocatively in your wake, a pale glow of white contained within the darkness of night.

Before you, the abandoned castle looms, cutting a towering silhouette as it’s lit by a crack of lightening, splitting the heavens in two. Ravens caw and crow, taking sudden flight to the stormy skies, wind picking up as it whips the leaves from branches, thunder and rain coming on in an abrupt onslaught, seemingly out of nowhere. The water lashes at your skin, thoroughly soaking your robes, slicking the thin fabric to your skin.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to follow the tug toward the old castle site, a chill running up your spine as you’re lured closer, path quickly muddying beneath your feet as you stumble through the howling wind and screaming rain, reaching the base of the entry way. Hurriedly trample up the carved steps, passing by the large carved gargoyles hunched either side of the case. Lightening crackles again, bursting across the thundery sky and you dive for the cover of the hewn-rock archway, seeking shelter from the torrent of heavy droplets.

Plaster yourself to the looming door, the skull knocker digging into your shoulder as you rest against it. The wood gives way, and you yelp as you stumble back, tripping up over your feet, cloak getting caught as you’re sent falling onto your ass. A stray wind whips through the interior, door slamming shut before your very eyes, locked in darkness. Tendrils of hot breath curl before your face in the low temperature of the castle, and you hurry to your feet.

Flinch as the room comes alight, allowing your eyes to sweep across the grand entrance: rich, polished floorboards bathed with blood-red rugs, a glass chandelier hanging like an abnormal spider above the room, the two sets of large winding staircases, and the dark figure at their peak. Candle light warms the castle hall, and you press back into the locked door, breathing heavily.

“My, my,” the character calls softly, “what has the storm brought in?”

Blink quickly, returning to your senses as reason and rationality are returned. You hadn’t known the castle was occupied… “I’m so sorry, Lord,” you call, hoping your voice carries to his looming perch. “I was out in the forest when the rain came on out of nowhere,” you explain, “I came seeking shelter, but the door wasn’t closed properly, and I fell in.” Heat flushes your cheeks, and you self-consciously step back from the rich rugs, trying to keep the mud from the spotless fabric.

“Fell in?” He echoes, and you could swear you hear the faintest laugh. “There’s been many a grand entrance in these halls, and yet none quite as theatrical as your own.” Suck in a quiet inhale of embarrassment, smoothing down the cloak in attempts to look vaguely presentable for the young aristocrat. “If it’s not too much to ask,” you call out, thankful for the evenness of your voice. “I would like to request shelter until the storm passes, then I promise I will be on my way.”

“Of course,” he replies, “be my guest.” His arm sweeps across the grand hall, encompassing the room with a deliberately relaxed gesture. “What’s mine is yours. Stay as long as it pleases you.”

Almost immediately, your shoulders lose their tension, relieved to not be forced back out into the horrific storm—it really had broken out of nowhere. You dip into a light curtsey, the least you can do to demonstrate your gratitude. “My deepest thanks, lord…?”

“Rhysand,” he calls, voice smooth as velvet, sinful as silk. “You may call me Rhysand.”

————

Strangely, you hadn’t seen another soul since you had arrived, which can’t be right, since the place was clean enough you might have thought it unlived in. Missing the mess of life, a strange deathlessness stalking the flame-lit halls.

Perplexities aside, the lord—Rhysand, as he’d informed you with that strange smile—had been more than welcoming, offering a spare bedroom larger than your home, with clothes to change into. You’d had to fight to keep your mouth from parting in awe from the decadent luxury at his fingertips, the sheer mass of wealth he’s shrouded in. How blasé he is about the display of opulence, immune to the shock and wonder of it all.

“You are free to stay as long as you please,” he’d reminded, glancing over to you from where he stands on the threshold. “Dinner will be served at eight. I’d be delighted if you joined me,” he says, offering the invitation graciously. Brows raise on your forehead, grateful for your stroke of luck. Dip your head in confirmation. “That would be wonderful,” you answer sincerely, “I can’t thank you enough for your generosity, my lord.” He waves his hand dismissively, yet it comes across as charming rather than arrogant. “Rhysand will suffice perfectly,” he replies, sharp eyes cutting to you, lips fashioning themselves into a distinctly feline smile. “Rhys if you feel otherwise inclined.” There’s a suggestive lilt to his honeyed voice that has your hairs standing on end, toes curling in spare slippers.

Dip your head again. “Thank you, Rhysand.”

Something pleasured passes through the darkness of his gaze, but it’s quickly covered as he nods, turning to leave, but pausing. “Feel free to adorn yourself as you please,” he adds on, framing it as an after-thought, despite embodying the antithesis of someone who would speak without thinking. He inclines his head toward the vanity, various sparkling gems strung together, contained within the jewellery armoire. Lips part to politely refuse—he’s already offered so much, it would feel wrong to take advantage of such an opportunity.

But he beats you to it, giving you a smile that suggests he knows exactly what you were about to say. “God turns a blind eye to my castle,” he purrs, lips sinfully curved. “Indulge as you like.”

Then he’s gone, striding away down the blood-red corridors, disappearing out of sight and leaving you alone in the offered room. Completely out of your depth, on unfamiliar ground.

Glance at the grandfather clock—you have a quarter hour to swiftly change into clothes of his taste. You waste no time, hastily closing the door before heading to the armoire provided. He’d told you everything was already prepared, which had initially drawn some questions, but you suppose someone with such a vastness of wealth would always have his doors open to passersby—a different way of displaying opulence.

You settle on the simplest gown you can find, still obscenely intricate, with tiny detailed patches of embroidered lacing the hem and sides. The bodice fits nicely, easy to change into and resting comfortably over your now-dry skin. The skirts are held up by an in-built petty-coat, giving the illusion of shape by flaring out past your waist, grazing your ankles. While the rest of you has been ridden of the lasting effects of rain, your hair remains damp, so you decide to allow it to hang at your back—you’d hate to sleep on the crisp pillows with wet hair.

A single look to the clock reveals you have five minutes before dinner is served, so you decide to peer at the jewellery, making sure to leave time for finding the dining hall. Within the small armoire are a menagerie of necklaces, but you pick out a small string of pearls, the clasps rendered in gold to match with the cream of your gown. Heart beats with infantile excitement at getting to adorn yourself in such expensive clothing, enjoying the cool brush against your skin, the weight of the pearls as they skim your breasts—plumped by the front of the bodice.

The clock ticks, and you turn for the door, leaving no time to change from the slippers that had been offered as you swish out into the hallway, returning the way you had come. Surely the dining hall would be located upon the ground floor…

You head for the swirl of stairs, pausing at their peak—where the sharp-featured lord had stood, surveying his lonely kingdom. The glass pendants suspended from the chandelier glitter and gleam like diamonds, and you span your hands delicately across the polished wood of the banister, taking the time to drink in and admire the antique beauty of his home.

Startle when a palm slides around your waist, spinning fully upon turning to see who’s approached. The banister presses to the base of your spine as you lean to it, his hands lightly holding your sides, resting without squeezing. “I’m glad you were able to find your way,” he says lowly, no need for volume with the proximity you are to one another. “I had worried you might find yourself lost in my halls, and I would have to go searching.”

A polite smile plays on your lips, attempting to calm the flush his silken words inspire beneath your features. “I was admiring your home,” you murmur, one hand pressing atop your breast to calm your heart—maybe also to direct his attention to the softness of cleavage. “The chandelier is wonderful, with how it catches the light. For a moment I thought it was winking at me,” you laugh quietly, demurely ducking your head, casting your gaze away from the sharpness of his own.

Rhysand chuckles lowly, “you have the eyes of a magpie.” Hand lightly raises to the set of shining beads at your throat. “Seemingly the taste of one, too.” He threads his fingers with those atop your breast, bringing your knuckles to the softness of his lips. “May I say, you look positively regal,” he purrs, pressing a kiss to your skin. You’re surprisingly relieved at the coolness of his mouth, soothing the fire that’s thrumming wildly in response to the delightful liberties he’s taking.

This time you can’t bring yourself to look away. Enchanted by the swirling depths of violet.

“If I look regal,” you breathe softly, “it is thanks to your exquisite taste in dress.” He raises a single, neatly groomed brow, and you’re rather glad to have the banister to lean back on. “A raw gem is beautiful even before it’s refined,” he purrs, cool lips skimming your knuckles with each word. “The clothing merely enhances what was already there.”

Open your mouth to deny his flattery, but once again he beats you to it, as if able to read minds. “Now,” he says, standing to his full height, “shall we?” He guides your arm to link with his own, hand pressing to the firmness of muscle beneath the fine fabric of his jacket. All you can manage is a dip of your head in acquiescence before he’s gracefully guiding you to the stairs, leading the way to the dining hall.

“In the mean time,” he says casually, “why don’t you tell me what you were doing, traipsing through the woods on such a morbid night?” Clasp your skirts in one hand, descending the case on his arm, quietly enjoying the gentlemanly mannerisms even if you’re undeserving of them. “It’s all hallows eve,” you answer, honestly, “I found myself yearning the company of the forest.”

“So you decided to play at red-riding hood,” he drawls, mirth coating his teasing words. You manage to shoot him what you hope is a playful glance. “There are no wolves in these forests, Rhysand,” you smile, returning your gaze to the steps. “Besides, these robes are white, not red.”

The two of you reach the base, and he moves to escort you through the archway on your right, leading away from the entrance hall. “That’s the lovely thing about white though, isn’t it,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “So open to change.” Your brow dips in a subtle show of confusion, narrowing. “What do you mean by that?” Lips carve themself into something distinctly vulpine, sharp canines gleaming beneath the warm light. But he shakes his head, murmuring a “never mind” before continuing through the ornamented room.

“Tell me more about this so-called yearning for the forest,” he goads, drawing you through yet another exquisitely decorated hall, rugs a shade darker now you’ve strayed from the entrance. It’s your turn to shake your head, unsure how to describe it without sounding utterly off your rocker. “It’s hard to say really,” you say truthfully. “The temperature was crisp but not biting, and the sky was overcast without promising a storm— well, I had thought not, though I was clearly mistaken,” you smile, though there’s an intensity to his gaze you hadn’t noticed before. You quickly avert your eyes, peering instead at the large banquet table you’re swiftly approaching.

“I think, if I’m being quite plain, the quiet suited me in that moment,” you admit softly. “I didn’t know those forests were capable of being quiet,” he mutters, “they must like you.” You shoot him a questioning look, but he simply smiles, again shaking his head. “I was merely thinking out loud,” he clarifies, pulling out your chair. You politely take the seat, smoothing out your skirts as he tucks you in. “I’d be interested in hearing more of your inner thoughts,” you say, “they sound quite intriguing.”

Rhysand pauses, hands resting atop the back of your chair, “would you now?” Spine stiffens when you feel icy air brush your temple, tilting your head to figure where the stray breeze came from. Freeze when his lips graze the shell of your ear, fingers halting in your lap. “Would you like to know what I’m thinking right now?” He inquires lowly, startling heat simmering in your lower abdomen. Manage a slight dip of your chin in tense confirmation. Lips trail lower, ghosting below your ear, brushing your neck. But then he pulls away, standing straight, offering a charming smile. “I’m thinking it would be a shame to be seated so far apart from you, and that I will have to move to be at your side.” Then he’s striding to the end to retrieve the crockery laid out, cutlery held in his free hand.

While his back is turned, you take the moment to try and calm your racing heart, startled by the vivacious beat being drummed against your ribs. You should be better equipped to face him, yet he’s seamlessly pulling you apart, stitch by stitch. All effortless charm and debonair grace. By the time he’s returned, you’ve managed to reach a state of near relaxation, just an edge of tension still gnawing at your spine.

“So, Rhysand,” you say quietly, nervous to intrude too deeply into the air of the castle. “Does your family live with you?” When he begins taking food to his plate, you follow suit, assuming the dinner has commenced, and that it will be fine for you to now start on the delicious meal laid before you. “Occasionally they fly by,” he answers with that playful smile, its reflection mirrored upon your lips. “I have two brothers who will visit from time to time, though they have their own hunting grounds to preside over.”

He hunts? You would have thought someone dressed as finely as he is would have little interest in such a superficial task. Particularly if there’s no one to converse with during the process. An image of him dressed in hunting leathers flashes through your mind, as if put there by an encouraging hand. “Preside over?” You ask, raising a forkful of food to your mouth.

Rhysand nods, smiling faintly as he watches you. “Indeed. They require a surprising amount of attention. Making sure the game are well-kept so none are driven from the lands,” he elaborates, and you nod along, surprised to find yourself interested in the subject. “What counts as being well-kept?” You ask once done with the food in your mouth, eagerly moving to the next piece. “Making sure they are well-fed,” he answers with a playful smile, “that generally keeps them happy.”

You blink, then smile. It’s nice to know he takes care of the animals on his land. That they’re looked after before their death. More humane than some of the things you’ve seen in your small hamlet. “I take it you hunt for pleasure?” You asks, eager to learn more about the charming lord. But he shakes his head, “not regularly. Or rather, not as regularly as some others I know.” A frown seems to dip his brows, and you wish to change the subject. His knife slices through the meat on his plate, carving it up into neat little squares for polite, bite-sized snacks. “Besides, I fear if my game notices it’s being picked off, it will run for the hills.”

Laughter bubbles across your breast-bone with his little quirks. The idea that his prey would be at all self-aware is rather amusing, while also strangely heart-warming. “If hunting is not a hobby of yours, how do you spend your time?” You ask, relaxing into the pleasantly stimulating conversation. “Welcoming rain-soaked women into my castle, of course,” he drawls, a wide smile spreading across your lips, quickly raising your hand to cover your mirth-filled grin. “You’ve given me no reason to doubt, yet I haven’t laid eyes on a single other soul here,” you reply, peering at him.

Lips quirk, and he reaches for his glass of red wine, thoroughly opaque, darkened in the flame light. “Everyone else has gone home for the night,” he answers, sipping at the thick liquid. “It’s just us, my lady.” Flush at the title, returning to concentrate on the meal. “I am no lady, Rhysand,” you respond softly, cutting into the rich meat on your plate. “And yet if I were to walk through those doors and find you dining alone, I would not think you looked even a spot out of place in my home,” he says, equally hushed.

Cutlery stills in your hands, raising your eyes to swirling violet. It strikes you then what a spectacular colour it is. Manage a shy smile, “your flattery is outrageous.” He’s quiet for a short spell, before also lowering his cutlery. “Do I look like I’m lying to you?” You’re surprised by the sincerity of his tone. Throat rolls as you observe him, head still lowered shyly. “I’ve known you for not even a night,” you murmur, unable to quite pull your focus from him. “You could,” he answers lowly, voice pitched down a few keys.

Blink, taken aback. You must be misunderstanding. Swallow thickly, making to return to your plate, but— “Don’t look away,” he instructs softly, coaxing your eyes back to his. Mind swims through heat, the world dimming around him, as if blanketed by a thick fog. “I…I couldn’t say,” you manage, a strange wariness prickling at the nape of your neck. Hairs rising with the intensity of his gaze.

The lord is quiet again, watching you with those strange, wonderful eyes. But then he pulls away, spearing a sectioned piece of meat with his fork. “Forgive me,” he says, “I shouldn’t have been so crass with you. I find myself so rarely with civilised company my manners are often forgotten.”

You shift in your seat, a bout of cold icing your skin in the absence of his attention. “No, it’s fine,” you say, finished with your meal, gently setting down the knife and fork. “I was simply caught off guard. The truth is I would feel as though I was taking advantage of your generosity, Rhysand.” You notice he’s also finished, but are unable to recall at what point. “What’s mine is yours,” he reminds lowly, eyes glinting.

Pulse spikes in response, something dark in that look that has you urging to run. The question is: in what direction?

“You seem tired,” he observes, glancing at the grandfather clock. Brows raise as he reads the time. “Appropriately. It’s nearing midnight,” he drawls. Lips part in surprise, how has it been that long? It feels like you sat down to eat less than an hour ago, yet it’s already beginning the ascent into morning. “Nearly midnight?” You echo, following his gaze. The clock indeed reads twelve, the hour hand raised as if poised to strike down.

Rhysand stands from his chair, refolding the napkin before stretching out his hand. “I would hate for you to sleep poorly because of me. Allow me escort you back to your room,” he asks quietly, all traces of previous heat removed, replaced by well-mannered charm. You manage a nod, arm once again overlapping with his own, making to follow him through the labyrinthine halls.

It hits you then, the vastness of his castle—how desolate the space must be. Especially with how rarely he apparently gets to meet with anyone he cares for. “You know, before tonight I had thought your castle was abandoned,” you say absently, taking in the elaborate decorations with more appreciation. “I’ll admit, it sometimes feels that way,” he replies, deep voice tracing down your spine. Push the heat aside for the moment, turning to glance at him. “Do you ever get lonely?” You ask quietly, aware of the ice you’re treading.

He hesitates, momentarily meeting your gaze before continuing onward, reaching the stairs. “Quite possibly,” he answers, “it would certainly be reason for my appalling lapse in manners earlier tonight.” His lips are lifted at their edges, yet you can’t quite manage to return the smile. It must be difficult, having all this space with only his self to fill it. Then again, with the intensity he’s occasionally pinned you with, that doesn’t seem like a particularly hard task.

“Tell me about your own hobbies,” he requests, breaking from your inner thoughts. “I feel as though I’ve spoken more than enough for tonight.” But you’re shaking your head before you can help it, speaking before you can stop it. “I like the sound of your voice,” you admit quietly. Violet eyes flick to you, weighing on your cheek…your neck. “It’s soothing. Like a lullaby.”

You don’t know what’s gotten into you.

He stares, and heat blossoms beneath your skin. That was incredibly uncalled for on your part.

“I hope not,” he says at last, humiliation burning at your insides as you hastily look away. But then he comes to a stop, hand reaching for your jaw, drawing your helpless gaze to lock with his own. “Because putting you to sleep right now is the last thing on my mind,” he breathes lowly.

Oh.

Chest rises and falls steadily, becoming aware of how breathless you feel, how utterly bare you are beneath that look of his. Tongue flicks out over your lower lip, mouth parched. “Tell me…what’s the first thing on your mind then, Rhys.” Attention pierces to the plushness of your lips, and you’re suddenly in need of that banister from earlier. “You want to know what I’d do with you if you let me?” He asks, voice rougher than it was moments before. Pulse spikes beneath that intensity, breath shallowing, but you manage a nod.

He groans lowly, hand dropping to your waist, lightly resting along the seam of the bodice. Cool fingers stroke away a lock of hair, pads grazing the heat of your cheek as he stares down at you. “I’m not sure such things are for your ears, magpie,” he grits out, applying a light bit of force to your waist. “Tell me anyway,” you breathe, hands raising to the fine lapels of his jacket, more eager to put them in his hair.

A rough sound of conflicted pleasure rumbles in his chest. “Such lovely things,” he promises, violet darkening with desire, swirling and dancing as he drinks you in. “So lovely you wouldn’t be able to pull away once I’d started.”

Heat numbs rationality, mind melting as the words warmly splash over your bones, sinking into marrow as you become soft and supple beneath his touch. Step into the lines of his body, feeling as his fingers press to your sides with tension. “Do it,” you breathe, quietly. “Please.”

Cunning satisfaction releases through the male, pleased with how quickly you changed your mind once he applied himself to the task. He’d gotten a sense of your taste before dinner, when he’d pushed you in, and it had been enough to convince him even though he’d fed not even a week ago, he would have to sample you. Now here you are, head tilted, eyes having fluttered shut, offering yourself to him for an entirely different set of wants. Maybe he will indulge your desires—if you satisfy his, that is.

You’ll be on the floor colder than ice if you fail to do so.

He moves in, hand cupping the nape of your neck as he lowers his mouth to yours. Lamb had been served over dinner, and he finds the taste pleasant on your tongue, stoking the embers of his hunger as he presses himself against the soft shape of you, partially hidden by the blasted dress and pearls. A small sound gets caught in your throat, and he revels in the feeling of your fingers tightening on the lapels of his jacket. As if you’re experiencing even a fraction of the hunger he has for you.

Works his way down your jaw, taking his time as he descends to your neck. Nosing at the pronounced pulse, liking how you tilt your head to one side, freely gifting him access. Lips graze the spot he’s chosen, tongue flicking out to drag along hot skin—so hot it practically burns.

Razor-sharp canines scrape, and he feels the exact moment you go rigid in his arms. But by then it’s too late, his teeth piercing your throat, injecting his philtre-laced venom into your bloodstream. The familiar taste of adrenaline and arousal spills on his tongue, bursting from the small puncture marks he’s made, quick to heal over with the aid of saliva. Drinks you down, savouring the richness of your blood, sealing his lips over the incisions, taking more, and more, and more—

He forcefully drags himself away, vision turning hazy, the scent of your life-force spinning his mind. Breathes heavily, the rich and spicy tang still prominent in his mouth, sapid and hot. Tongue darts out to wet his lips, gathering up faint traces that remain there, and then he’s being pulled back, already so deeply enamoured.

Canines re-pierce that same spot, reopening the incisions as your blood burns his throat, inspiring heat in his long-dead body. It’s as if he’s returning to life, having it shot through his veins, snaring him in the addicting flavour. Lips seal over the puncture marks, drinking deeply, swallowing down more and more.

He should stop.

He knows he should stop—he’ll bleed you dry, and then he’ll never have another taste. Arousal coats his tongue, and heat spreads across his skin, bone-deep aches making themselves apparent, as if forcefully dragging him to you. Your hands have dropped from his jacket, instead weakly rubbing at his shoulder and chest, unable to do much more than hold yourself up.

But the taste—the sheer heaven you’ve put into him again. If he stops drinking, it will pass, and he’ll return to that permanent state of death, cold and solitary. But you’re bleeding sunlight into him, sunlight that’s dappled and controlled instead of the unrestricted blaze that would incinerate him in the blink of an eye.

A quiet gasp slips from your lips, fingers losing their grip on his clothing, beginning to slip, but just a little more…one more gulp…one more sip…

“Mercy, devil,” he breathes onto your neck, as if in pain. “What God-damning angel are you?” He growls, trembling hands cupping your cheeks, sharp violet eyes locked on the small marks to your throat. “You’ve bewitched me. I must…” Then he’s surging forward, slamming you against the wall with inhuman force, hand gripping your jaw as he roughly tilts your head to the side. Groans, hot tongue licking over the soft skin, elongated incisors pricking as they again pierce.

Pulse spikes beneath his grip, growing dizzy as he drinks deeply, hands pressed to your shoulders to pin you still. Vision blurs, lips parting as you raise your arms in attempt to push him away, but end up desperately clinging to the finely spun fabric cloaking his back. Limbs go weak, turning limp in his hold as he feeds, a pleasurable spin overcoming your mind, turning pliable beneath his teeth.

He groans, pulling away only in favour of going lower, suctioning now-hot lips over a new, unmarked patch of skin. Blood bursts on his tongue, rich and spicy, not yet too ripe but void of the sour bite that’s present in the young. Heaven and hell blend together in his mouth, mixing so appetisingly he could never—

“Rhys…” you whisper, pleading. Less than a breath left before you—

Your body slumps, and his is trembling so violently the best he can do is go with you as you slide down the wall, blood trickling down onto the pure, white pearls. He knew they’d get in the way.

He hauls himself away, shocked at the utter lack of control you had subjected him to. How his discipline shudders in your presence, practically brought to its knees for a single drop more.

Earlier he had considered making a bottle or two out of you to send off to his brothers, ready for consumption.

Looking at you now, he can hardly stand the thought.

What’s mine is yours…and what’s yours is mine.

Your blood is his, and his only.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

rhys taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

[skyeslittlecorner]

not sure if this was posted before. can we get the classic scenario of some brave (read:unfortunate) soul trying to flirt with the mc and how will the kings (+sitri and belial if it's okay) react to it? thank you :3

Ahh, that's one of my fav kind of headcanons! And! Sitri!!! Belial!!! I love kings, but I'm a noble's girlie~ Let's make them jealous. See them doing their best, it's not enough to be hot to win our hearts... ok maybe it is BUT, it doesn't change anything!

Assume that some cutie like our Dong-gyun is flirting with us. Nobody dangerous or slick. This way they will only be jealous, not mad, and we will see how they want to prove themselves.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Satan will be ready to fight at first, but when he sees that you are having fun and no one is trying to hurt you, he will let go. Of course, he will be jealous. You are his. He will make sure to remind you, and do everything to impress you and win your attention back. Over time, he will get to know you better and learn what you like best. If his strength turns you on and you want to see him fight for you, he will. If you'd rather see a room strewn with roses when you return to the palace, then be it. If a devil flirts with you too intensely (in his opinion, always), he will come and grab your waist. We know he has guts, and anyone who allows himself too much deserves a kick. Unfortunately, he can't kick them because it's like a reward, and he doesn't want any more devils hanging around you.

Mammon won't care too much if you're flirting with someone. Everything his master does is perfect. If this is your wish, he will choose the best lovers in the country who will fulfill your desires. He will make every dream come true. You own him, not he you, and he waits patiently until one day you want to be his. You are free and can do whatever you want. As long as no one tries to get their hands on you against your will, Mammon is going to watch with amusement those poor attempts. After all, that funny little devil who thinks he has a chance with you is his too.

Beelzebub has a whole story dedicated to the cute guy who flirts with us. On the outside, he looks as chilled as ever, but there's an underlying menace lingering in the air. “Don't cross the line, or you'll be devoured.” You have to have some restraint, if you don't want this poor devil to end badly. Actually, no one knows what Beel is capable of, because the surrounding rumors say that he deprived one devil of the hand he used to hug you, and sewed another's mouth shut for daring to kiss you. But you know how exaggerated the rumors surrounding him are. He himself always behaved impeccably (as much as you say it about him) around you, and the fact that he clearly showed that you belonged to him... it only makes you wet, admit it.

Leviathan, oh well. If anyone *dared* to flirt with you near him, they would not only hang, but fly out the window and land on a wall. The only people he would not hang, because he cannot, are those who are equal in status to him, i.e. other kings. If he saw you flirting with one of them... remember how in ch4 Satan's wrath was so tremendous that it began to choke his subjects? This is exactly what would happen with Levi's jealousy. Except not only the devils who stand close will suffer, but half of Hades. Since he can't hang other kings, he could hang you... but with each king the scenario would be different, so it's hard to say in general. Either way, prepare for chaos.

Belial is very composed. He'll let you do whatever you want, after all, you're not married to him or anything. He just respects you and your freedom. You'd even think he didn't care when Jiyu stepped in. Without Belial's consent, of course. You only managed to hear “Know your place, your fucking maggot-!” before the noble catch him and silence him, blushing furiously. You see how he squeezed poor little thing so much that their eyes popped out of their sockets. You can't help but giggle, because it looks like someone is jealous after all.

Sitri will be both jealous and sarcastic. Very openly. He doesn't even try to hide it, the poor devil will be scolded and sent to help clean up the rubble or in the medical tent. War is neither the place nor the time for flirting! Especially if he's trying to flirt with you. Why did you even want to waste your time on him? You have so many nobles to choose from, aren't they good enough? Isn't he good enough? He needs to try even harder... And his spiral of overthinking continues until you dispel his doubts with a kiss.

[writeforfandoms]

Shadows 1

Find the John Price masterlist

My entry for @glitterypirateduck O Captain challenge! This one starts with #3, a rescue takes place. This is part of the larger zombie AU, but you don't have to have read the other fics.

About a year and a half after the end of the world, you're unexpectedly rescued by a group of four men. Time to find out what you can make of life now.

Warnings: Violence, canon typical violence, forced captivity (not by the 141), unnamed bad guys, blood, references to medical stuff, swearing, grief, allusions to deaths, not all monsters are zombies.

Word count: 1.4k

You'd lost track of the days in this place. Well. Not this particular place, you'd been moved around a few times. 

But these places were all the same. Abandoned, with varying levels of light, never unpacking. 

Not that you were allowed to keep much. Mostly just supplies. 

You shifted your position, crossing your legs carefully against the hard floor. The heavy duty strap around your ankle dragged the chain across the floor, an unnecessary and loud reminder that you couldn't go anywhere. 

The house around you was quiet and still. No footsteps coming towards you. No shouting. No smashing glass. 

Considering the world had all but ended, you'd think these guys would want to keep their living area clean. But no. They'd proven to and again that they didn't care about anything except themselves and getting what they wanted. 

Unfortunately for all of you, safe places were becoming harder to find. The cities were all unpassable, filled with infected. Which left towns and other areas. 

This group had gone through at least three towns since they'd grabbed you. They didn't care about anyone else. They didn't do anything to help. They just took what they wanted, killed anyone who got in their way, and kept you alive to sew them back up after. 

Considering they often attacked in the night, and guns were not readily available to most people, you didn't have too many injuries to deal with. 

Honestly, if throwing yourself off a building was an option, you'd consider it carefully at this point. 

The first sign you had that all was not well was a thud, so muffled you almost didn't hear it. You probably wouldn't have, except you were actually awake and sort of paying attention. 

Now you wished you'd sat closer to the window. Just in case. 

Silence held for long enough that you felt almost confident relaxing again. Whatever you'd heard was a fluke, or someone moving, or something simple like that. None of your  concern… unless someone had managed to break a bone or something. 

You really hoped not. You hated setting bones without the modern conveniences. 

A door downstairs creaked, and you went still, heart rabbiting in your chest. All the doors in this house creaked, that's just what happened with neglect. It wasn't a big deal.

But if the men were up and moving, you needed to be alert. You couldn't simply trust that they'd leave you alone. 

But you didn't hear footsteps or further signs of life. Which was different. Unusual.

Unusual was probably bad. 

Moving slowly, you got to your feet, trying to minimize how much the chain dragged against the floor. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe this was nothing. Maybe there was nothing to be upset about. 

Then the shouting started, one voice that you recognized yelling for the others to get up, to fight. Soon other voices joined him, chaos erupting downstairs. The first gunshot still made you jump, loud and unexpected. Your fingers twitched at your sides, anxiety thrumming through you, leaving you jittery. More gunshots followed the first, and you winced. 

Well. Undoubtedly you'd have people to fix up after this. Whatever this was. 

The chaos downstairs lasted mere minutes that felt like hours. Gunshots and shouting and meaty thuds, the occasional creak or squeal of a door. When you convinced yourself to creep to the window, you couldn't see much outside. 

Then a flash of movement in the bushes outside. Could be nothing. Could be a person. You moved to the side, trying to hide. The cuff around your ankle tugged sharply, reminding you of your limitations. Heart beating wildly in the sudden silence, the sudden absence of violence, you knelt to scrabble at the material. 

The stairs squeaked as someone ascended them. 

Rapidly running out of time, you gave up on freeing yourself, and instead scrambled over to hide behind the door. That would give you a moment or two, maybe, and had the added bonus of leaving you enough loose chain to hold as a makeshift weapon. 

The door eased open, but nothing else happened for several moments. You couldn't hear anything over the pounding of your heart, your fingers clenched so tight around the length of chain your fingers ached, metal digging into your skin. 

The other person moved suddenly, stepping into the room and twisting to look right at you. You didn't notice much initially, too focused on the gun suddenly pointed directly at you. You made a choked off kind of noise, swallowing hard, fingers gone numb. 

But there was no gunshot. No pain. No noise. 

The gun lowered slowly, and you finally looked past it to the man in front of you. The first thing you noticed were his eyes - the kind of blue that stuck with you, intense but warm. The facial hair drew your attention next, mostly because not only had he made a bold choice in muttonchops, but they were clean and maintained. 

He clearly had access to supplies. 

Finally, you realized his lips were moving. He was talking to you. You just hadn't heard him. Blinking rapidly, you breathed in deep, trying to think, to focus past the lingering fear. 

“I'm sorry, what did you say?” Your voice came out quieter than you intended, a little raspy. Your throat still felt tight and dry. 

His lips quirked in an almost smile. “I asked if you were injured,” he repeated patiently, voice soothingly even. 

“No.” You swallowed, looking down at the chain still clutched in your hand. “No, I'm fine.” 

He raised one eyebrow, chin tipping like he really wasn't sure about that, but he didn't argue. “Take it you're not with the gents downstairs.” 

You scoffed. “Could say that,” you agreed, loosening your grip but not letting go yet. You could finally hear again, could hear someone else moving in the house, the gentle creaks and groans of the old house helping you track them. “What happened?”

He looked at you for a moment, impassive, before he nodded once. “Most of them are dead. They attacked our town. Tracked them back here.” 

You nodded, leaning back a bit. Clearly this man was dangerous. Him and whoever he had with him. It was strange though that you couldn't hear more, unless he'd left most everyone else outside. The group downstairs was impossible to miss when they were moving, at over a dozen members. 

The two of you stood for a few moments at an impasse before he shifted the gun to his side, holding it with one arm. His free hand drew a knife.

For a moment, a bare second, you stared at the shining blade and wondered if this was finally it for you. 

But he surprised you, kneeling in front of you. “Gonna cut this off you,” he told you, motioning to the strap around your ankle. “Hold still.” 

You didn't move a muscle as he worked, lips pressed tight together. The metal was cool against your skin, but you felt no pain. 

Just a loosening, a sudden lightness. 

“Done.” He rose back to his feet, knife safely tucked away again. “Sure you're not injured?” His gaze swept over you, cool and assessing. 

It finally clicked what he thought you were doing here, and your lips twisted in an almost smile. “They didn't rape me,” you said, finally letting go of the chain, letting it fall with a loud clatter. “I'm a nurse. Or I was, anyway.” 

Comprehension dawned, and his shoulders settled a little lower, a little more relaxed. “Handy to keep around,” he surmised. 

“And keep well enough to work,” you agreed with wry humor, flexing your fingers. 

“You have anywhere to go? Anyone waiting for you?” 

Grief stuck in your throat, the flash of blood and bodies and cruel laughter taking all your attention. But only for a moment. You shoved it back down to deal with never, breathing in slowly. Controlled. You were fine, you had this handled.

“No.” You cleared your throat, clearing away the remnants of grief. “Much like everyone at this point, I suspect.”

No pity darkened his eyes, understanding in the tilt of his lips. “Could always use someone with your skills in town.”

You tipped your head, looking at him. He stood patiently under your scrutiny, giving you all the time you needed to note how clean he was, his clothes in good repair, his weapons seemingly working fine. Wherever he called home must have been in pretty good shape, especially to have guns and enough people to spare to go after a threat. 

“A town, you said? Tell me more.”

[the-moon-files]

Linked Universe / GN!Reader - Random Headcanons abt the Chain! :)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 (ur here!)

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (you/they/them), Guide Reader!

Orbit: Headcanons-ish, Scenarios?

Stars: Wind, Wild, Sage, C*urage, K*ridai

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: i included the link from K*oridai (faces of evil), and the brunette Link from that old cartoon tv show,

& Trigger Warnings: none known.

☆

Wind (Wind Waker):

Misses being a big brother

LMAOOO I CAME FOR UR THROAT HAHAAA

ok chill chill he's doing okay

He's just not used to being the youngest in any given group, he used to be the oldest kid in charge of the younger ones and his little sister too

But dont get him wrong! He rlly does love the advantages that come with it,

and when he's feeling down abt not being older u usually cheer him up by reminding him he can be the biggest little shit he wants and every single Link will forgive him once he pulls out his baby seal eyes lmao

Ur the easiest to rope into horse playing/goofing off and he's very happy abt that

The others can be too serious for too long so he appreciates how u and him lighten them up by trying to give each other noogies (he loses most of the time)

As soon as Wind found out the others could play instruments, he immediately demanded they do campfire songs every night lol

(Most of the time one person caves, even just to idly play smth)

Likes inventing weird new games to play that'll convince as many other people to particpate, he used to do it back home too, like finding the prettiest rock on the island, that way his grandma and even adults could play too :)

Needs to sleep beside someone at night, bc he secretly likes it, back on his adventure going to sleep all by himself (unlike living with his grandma/sister) always was a little hard for him

Very hard to wake up in the morning, sleeps in the latest out of all the Links

("I'm a growing boy? Ofc i need my sleep, whats ur excuse??" @ the other Links who sleep in late lol)

Likes to sew! He's still learning, but his grandma used to teach him how so he could help her keep up with his growth spurts/recklessness tearing his clothes up

Idolizes u forever if you embroider, and will watch u like those videos of someone's cat who's fascinated by watching owner craft smth lol (like this ⚫️v⚫️)

Enjoys making stoic people crack their persona and laugh

Also has the wheeziest laugh youve ever heard, it makes u laugh every time, even when he started laughing over a dumb pun

Oh yeah, makes a foul amount of dad jokes for someone whos only like 14 💀

(He once managed to break Time and Legend, which then broke Wars and Twi, and it just continued down the Chain until everyone was crying or on the ground, he wears that shit like a badge and it literally made his confidence go 📈 puffed his chest out and everything lol)

Wild (Breath of the Wild):

U already know everything there is to know abt him??

I dont even have to say it, and it shows when ur around him lol

Like he'll go to do smth stupid like shield surf down death mountain in a unknown Hyrule, and before anyone can even realize thats what he's planning to do you've caught and stopped him and made a compromise to shield surf down some snow bluffs later instead

Or when u know he's gotten new ingredients in some other Link's Hyrule and is going to try and cook with them tonight, so u help him make a regular meal of smth else along with so the boys dont suffer stomaches

Like u can absolutely predict his bullshit all the time, just imagine the most adrenaline junkie thing he could do in that moment with the combination of things around him and you always know what tf he's up to, ur always right lol

Ur the only one who can get him to stop the chaos (besides maybe Time, weirdly enough Sky/Hyrule/Four bc they are the least likely to tell him to stop, so when they do, its usually a very, very bad idea)

Likes hair ornaments, he's got long hair for a reason after all

Likes u to style his hair, and esp if u teach him how to braid or do diff styles <333

He loves that u help cook/at least prep, and u make sure another Link helps too, bc thats a lot of ppl to make food for with little to no help 💀

(Makes u ur fav foods at even the slightest mention of them, like u wont even have to say ur craving Link's already whipped the pan out best housewife fr)

One of the few Links who's adventurous with his clothing, and trying new stuff

Wild was worried abt his Champion tunic getting messed up but was sad he couldn't wear it as much anymore

So u handmade him a new shirt that imitates the old one but with some new designs to represent the Chain! :)

He started crying.

He either hugs so lightly he seems like he's not enjoying it (no true, he's just trying to be polite)

Or he squeezes so hard be pops ur back and nearly breaks a rib

U got the latter for that shirt lol

Any new thing he doesnt remember how to deal with, like how to sew (he knows 1 stitch help), how to wash clothes (dont mix whites and blacks, and colors), how to soothe headaches/muscle aches etc.

He just wanders pitifully over to ur side and looks pitiful lol

Like he's a confused and saddened puppy

And just holds up whatever mess he's made like, "im so sorry, i dont know how to do this pls"

Bc he trusts u to know (the other Links may be hit or miss too tbh lmao)

And ur the least likely to clown him for it too, at least nothing he doesnt also find funny

Sage (Tears of the Kingdom):

So sue me, i enjoy this stupid-definitely-not-canon-unhinged-Link thats done with everyones bullshit and wants to be a hermit

SUEEE MEE ABT ITTTTT✨️

The first time u saw his hair nest and immediately clapped ur hand over u mouth in shock and tried to take a brush to it on sight

He fucking hissed at you.

Feral bitch.

Sage isnt like that all the time, but he was certainly the most distrustful and prickly out of all the Links

(U could smell it was like a defense mechanism from his adventure/past from a mile away, and knew with time that it'd fade away into his true self... like how u just knew Wild that well too)

U are the only person allowed to casually touch him, he shys away from the other Links, let alone strangers,and the first he allowed to help him with his hair

Tbh after u washed it out and got tangles and mats out and cut split ends off etc.

He almost teared up, and was extremely confused why

Def the type to not have realized he felt insecure lowkey abt it until it was fixed (he also was embarrassed to say he didnt rlly know how to take care of it)

Energy of a stray feral cat that leaves dead birds on ur doorstep without fail every morning and u leave a food bowl out in hopes he'll actually be your cat 💀

Extremely protective of you, and eventually the Chain, to the point where he might set someone's hair on fire or use runes on them

Like not enough to seriously injure but enough to scare tf out of ppl and have them running for their lives

(Did he literally growl at someone when they tried to flirt with you?? ... why is Twi encouraging him.)

Was unnerved by Wild at first but slowly got used to him and often butts into whatever private convo u two are having

Like just casually struts up and plops his head on ur shoulder and waits for attention, may complain loudly depending on how grumpy he is that day

(Wild's not getting jealous and constantly hogging u for cooking to get even more time with you what-)

Okay but unfortunately

Once those 2 got comfy with each other, they started tag teaming everyone

Like u can now bet that if an explosion happens in the distance, Sage definitely caused it, and if he's there, then Wild's there making him the explosives

(Same for if Wild's there, then Sage's there)

Def the Link that likes showing the most skin, he "gets overheated easily" - local half naked man justifies his nakedness

(coughtotallynototherreasonslikebeingshirtlessaroundyouallthetimecough)

Absolutely grievous clowning on the other Links, like its getting into bullyinggg 😭

His words are E rated for Everyone, no ones safe not even you

Sage: "wait, all those rings and nobody's ever put one on you? And you've never put on one someone else??🤔🤔"

Legend: ...😦

The rest of the Chain: 💀😭😶

Time, trying to hide he's choking on laughter so hard he's abt to fall into the firepit

Will occasionally team up with Wild to make a protective little border on either side of you while in towns/new Hyrules

U once offered to sing/hum for him after a nightmare while it was ur turn on watch (he sleeps up trees btw) and after u switched off w/other Link, u both went to edge of camp to sleep next to each other and he had the best sleep of his life like that

Now demands begs u to sing him to sleep every night, wont take "i dont sound that good tho" for an answer

Courage (The Legend of Zelda, 1989 Cartoon TV show):

Yeah... he's here too.

Just dont read this tbh

Enjoys being ✨️special✨️ by being the only hero twink out here with brunette hair

Was insecure abt it being curly/wavy until u slowly built his confidence

Bc he's got the most confidence in his strength, but not in much else tbh 😭

Actually will randomly have moments of responsibility or capability you didnt expect out of him bc he can be so silly and jokey all the time

Youll be lost as hell and he just "hey its ok the stars look like this so we go this way" and it works

Like the type of person u sort of avoid relying on bc he's like a playful jock type and then they randomly show theyre the captain of the team for a reason

Dont ask why, but hes good at knitting, shhhh no, no, no explanation he just secretly is he wont even tell u why or how or when he learned this he just "hehe, wouldnt u like to know princeyyy/princesssss/your majestyyyy"

Hyrule, and rest of Chain standing by, went to talk to one of the Great Fairies in a Hyrule once to try and get some info abt where to camp tonight or where nearest town was and before he could get close enough to ask,

Courage was already yelling like "YOOOO BIGGEST FAIRY WHATS UP?! u mind giving some poor lost fellas like us somewhere to go with ourselves tonight??"

They kept talking super casually and she laughed so hard that she let u guys stay near her that night to camp and be under fairy protection like no fairy boy Link needed 💀

Everyone was shocked, and thats how u all found out Courage is rlly good with fairies/their best friend no matter the Hyrule

Every time u guys learn smth new abt him it feels so unexpected, like out of left field or smth

It just never seems to fit his usual persona, or at least not what youd expect from him

So needless to say the first time u guys learned he could talk to magical objects that were powerful enough (like the fucking triforce)-

(this was apparently so normal he literally lived with a piece of it just in his room all the time????)

Has weird mixture of country boy vs. royal prince sensibilities?

It alarmed several Links. 💀

He can talk to Fi.

(Sky and you nearly cried)

Like he lived in the castle alongside Zelda so he inherited some spoiled/etiquette stuff, but he still would absolutely go splash in mud puddles in the rain

Would literally do fucking anything if it meant youd give him a kiss on the cheek

Likes to hug you a lot too, with his huge ass arms lifting u up (no he does not care how much u weigh ur going UP) and spinning u around

Its his favorite, almost as much as kisses

No but he's slay fucking Majora to get a kiss, like it's actually unbelievable and kinda endearing how excited he gets if u promise him one lmao

Koridai (Link: The Faces of Evil):

Omg not them putting Link's name in the title of the gameee i didnt know that 😭😭

Geezzz,, i dont know what im on

But ig heres that other silly ass Link if anyone feels like reading it

Will also fight any god, including Hylia, for a kiss

Actually astoundingly good at strategizing

Like after a few times in heat of battle him organizing Links, Time and Wars practically jumped him to include him in planning shit

He was similar to Courage to in that he just was cracking jokes all the time u didnt expect it, also he's significantly more sarcastic than Courage

U introduced him to dark humor and the laugh he laughed practically burst out of him, he looked shocked by his own laugh lmao

So he also now has a streak of dark humor he shows when u talk for while/sees someone also enjoys it

Its like his not-so-guilty-pleasure

Really good at baking? He apparently learned a lot of miscellaneous skills to better court someone and he now uses them fully to seduce you,

thru gift giving mostly, its is love language besides acts of service :)

(All Links do some amount of acts of service tho <3)

Rlly good at styling hair surprisingly, and at shield surfing??? What

Actually down to try Wild's experimental dishes...

And by that i mean he pranks the rest of you by sneaking the inedible bits into ur food

U may or may not have nearly choked him out for it and now he doesnt do it to you, and even was trying to act all pitiful abt it like "sorry lovely, but i just wanted to tease u bc ur so cute!! 🥺👉👈"

Like,, stfu u little shit 💀

He has the energy of a male orange cat, dont ask why he just is, and specifically the orange cat getting on top of the fridge or stuck between the the screen door and glasss door comically or smth 😭

Hes also loud as hell

One of the worst at stealth unless he just keeps his mouth shut completely, like his whispering is loud

He proclaims his affections very loudly too, like gettin u flowers and chatting ur ear off with what he likes abt u lol

No, like he can go for 20 minutes or more if u let him, u better stop him before he gets into the personality based compliments

Bc those sound wayyy too personal to be aired out in public ngl, like its so soft and domestic itll kill u lol

And he means every word too 👀

☆

I HATE THIS NEW FEATURE OR FUNCTION I SWEAR THIS DIDNT HAPPEN BEFOREEE!!!

😭😭 U ABSOLUTELY KNOW WHAT IT IS BY NOW, IT FUCKING POSTED MY DRAFT BEFORE IT WAS READY TO GO

God fuck this hellsite stop doing this meee

Thats it im just do what i do for the other blog and write it smwhere else and then copy paste onto the post this is ridiculoussss 😒😒

Well anyway, i hope if u read this before i updated and actually FINISHED THIS u come back and read it again!! :(

Sorry guys, but blame tumblr pls before u blame me 😔

(Yeah theres a lot of emojis leave me alone i feel strongly abt this)

Peace out,

🐤 Peep

I think ill start signing off my name ig, unless u guys wanna call me Moon that works too

[spidey-x-male-reader]

i just got so excited when you said you wanted to write for Hobie Brown UGH hes just so pookie bear 😽

could you do some relationship hcs ?? (bonus points if reader is the same height or taller then him 😼)

gn reader or male reader would be perfect!! ty ^^

Headcanon: Dating Hobie Brown

Requested: yes / no

Warning: use of the f word

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

MASTERLIST

Goddammit Hobie is literally the best boyfriend 

That guy randomly shows up, climbing in through your window and is like “let’s hang out”

You have to get used to chaos everywhere you two go

You go onto the most adventurous dates

Sometimes those dates are dangerous too and sometimes just a little illegal. You’ll get used to it

“eh…Hobie? Should we be here?” “nope”

He gives you support with whatever you do

You can do the most stupid shit, if you’re sure about it, he gives you his full support

He just stands there and is like “Yeah! That’s my boyfriend!”

You tell him that you always wanted to do something? Well guess what he has planned for the next day

That man lays down the world to your feet and then starts rambling about how you shouldn’t use this as dictatorship though

You’ll have to do get used to loud music and shitty jokes

No i will not elaborate 

He doesn’t seem like he pays attention sometimes but he listens to everything you says

You mention your favourite food on the side? Congratulations. He now has that one memorised forever and will (try to) cook it for you at some point 

And if you’re taller than him? He’ll never hear the end of it

He sometimes lets you use him as an armrest though, but only because you asked so much and he loves you

If you’re not good at playing music he constantly lets you watch any kind of performance he has with his band, making sure you feel included the whole time

“And before our next song starts, who’s this mighty fine fella in the first row?” “Hobie I swear to god.”

He sometimes tells you about the missions he went on while you sew his costume back up after it eventually ripped somewhere

(He’s so fucking thankful for that)

And last but not least

THAT MAN APPRECIATES AND LOVES YOU FOR WHO YOU ARE BECAUSE YOU’RE PERFECT JUST THE WAY YOU ARE

[lurkingshan]

Only Friends: Fight Night

Another excellent episode, this time with everyone at each other’s throats. So much happened, so let’s break down the big fights and shifting allegiances.

Round 1: Sand vs Top

Phew, Sand really hates Top. I am dying for the backstory on the ex Top stole from him. I loved how this scene showcased Top’s two faces: the boyfriend mask he wears with Mew, and this nastiness that comes out with others. I think both faces are real to an extent, but it cannot be denied that he is lying and hiding parts of himself from Mew. I don’t think Mew would be happy to hear the way Top talks about him, flaunting him as a conquest he won. Sand’s disdain for Top and the way he operates could not be more clear, and his smug attitude in this scene gave Sand the push he needed to do something with the ammunition he has.

Winner: Sand, but Top doesn’t know it yet.

Round 2: Ray vs Boston

Ray walked into this scene with the upperhand, and we saw a moment of real fear on Boston’s face when he realized Ray knew about him fucking Top. But he recovered quickly and turned it around on Ray easily, hitting on his insecurities about Mew and accusing him of only wanting Mew to know so he could break up his relationship and try to get with him again. He called him disgusting (Boston’s favorite insult), and clearly, that was a direct hit, because Ray teared up and disassembled immediately. 

Winner: Boston. Don’t fuck with a fucker, Ray.

Round 3: Cheum vs Boston and Ray

Cheum got her passive aggressive on in this scene and made a bunch of passive aggressive digs at her “friends.” I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: everyone in this friend group is an asshole (run for your life, April!) and none of them seem to actually like each other much. After encouraging Boston to bring Nick and promising to be on her best behavior, she called him a “heartless slut” in front of the guy she claims she wants him to date, and then started picking on Ray for being single and condescended to him about finding someone, teeing up Boston to add insult to injury. Classic mean girl behavior.

Winner: Cheum, but not for long.

Round 4: Ray vs Everyone

As soon as Ray started chugging his liquor after his friends were mean to him, I knew we were in for some chaos, and he did not disappoint. Shots fired at every one of them, except for his most beloved Mew. Unfortunately, his drunk and high ass couldn’t get it together to coherently explain what he was ranting about in front of the crowd, but in the end it didn’t matter because he had already delivered the important information to Mew in the bathroom. Boston deserved it and I didn’t even feel bad for Cheum, she brought that shit on herself. Insulting Sand and offering him money for sex in front of everyone, though? Fucking ouch.

Winner: Ray, but in his typical fashion, he also lost.

Round 5: Sand vs Ray

Sand is the cause of this whole mess, but he seems distressed to see Ray in this state. I don’t know what he thought would happen when he gave Ray this ammunition, knowing how he feels about Mew and how little self-control he has, so I was rolling my eyes a little at his insistence that Ray stop thinking about Mew. You sewed this chaos, sir! Don’t light the match and then make a shocked Pikachu face when you start a fire! After having already hurt him in front of everyone in the bar, Ray rejected Sand and his help brutally, calling him a whore and throwing him to the ground, and then got in his car to wreak havoc on the road. Ray is focused on Mew and simply does not care about Sand’s feelings, and Sand can’t seem to stop trying to protect Ray from his own self-destruction no matter how many times he’s rejected.

Winner: No one, this is all around fucked.

Round 6: Mew vs Top

Mew, my boy, I didn’t know you had it in you! Throughout that scene I was shaking my head, wondering how he could have possibly missed the implication of what Ray was saying and whether he just won’t believe anything Ray says, and then as the sex scene started and he was more bold and confident than usual, I was like what is going o—oh shit! Mew, that was brilliant. I loved seeing him catch Top off guard like that, and given that he already knew before he went home with him, he was clearly giving Top one last chance to come clean and stop lying. Top failed the test, Mew is righteously pissed and genuinely hurt, and for once, Top is out of his depth with no idea how to fix his mistake. 

Winner: Mew. 

And Mew isn’t done, because next week we finally get to see him set some things on fire and kick Boston into the pool. Friends, I can hardly wait.

[mosspapi]

There's like a 90% chance this will not make sense to anyone else but let me indulge in a little autistic crackposting abt Fall Out Boy for a second

I genuinely love the use of violins/classical instruments in Folie and the way it contrasts with their use in SMFS. Like in Folie, their inclusion gives it a sense of discordance, almost desperation. "I am ripping everything apart and trying everything in my power to get through to you, to get my head above water, to scream for help. This is so far out of left field but I don't feel like I have any other options left." But in SMFS, they almost feel like they're doing the exact opposite. "I am staring down at the pieces of the mess I've made and gingerly sewing it back together. I'm trying to soothe the chaos and rawness and show you that even when things seem so far gone, they can always be reeled in and thrown a life raft." It's just. Idk. Something about the musical similarities being used to create polar opposite emotional states gets me. "I was not ok, and expressing that in the only way I knew how, but I can take that and put myself back together again in the same way I tore myself apart."