#Link writes

[linkito]

kiss prompt #20: on a scar.

this is also scarian. i'm thinking hhau :3c and grian's newly acquired scars (which i guess doubles as #21, on a place of insecurity?)

Grian knows it’s silly to be so insecure over something ultimately so inconsequential, but it’s an amalgamation of several things, really, only made worse by the emergence of these new scars across his face. 

And it’s also horribly ironic, given that he’s neglected his wings for months on end, letting them gather dust and debris, secretly hoping that perhaps it’ll be enough to make him less desirable to the humans who seek out his feathers. It’s ironic that now he’d let something like facial scars bring him down, something that blatantly displays the damage that has been set on him. 

No one would want damaged goods, after all, right?

He ought to be happy about that, right?

Maybe he would feel that way if he had any say in their development, if it had been self-imposed like the time he’d desperately torn out his feathers, trying to hide the vivid purple that stained his body, but— 

It’s Scar’s steady hand that snaps him out of that sea of thoughts before it can spiral, his calloused fingers gently tracing over Grian’s cheek, giving the scar tissue the same tender treatment, almost like nothing at all was different. 

It’s a silly thing to be insecure about. To be insecure about it would be hypocritical. He’s never had a problem with the scattering of scars across his partner’s body, after all— why would he? It’s one of his favorite activities to trace over them, to map them out over his skin… much like Scar is now. 

“Scar,” Grian starts, but he stops at that, unsure of how to proceed. His voice is strained and hoarse. He feels like he can’t actually breach this topic, not without inadvertently insulting Scar with anything he could possibly say. 

It’s shallow, it’s stupid, it’s—

It’s something permanently strewn across his face reminding him of the time he thought he was abandoned. When he was alone and scared, left with only the severe chill of winter and the taste of blood on his tongue. 

Grian doesn’t want to be reminded of that.

He doesn’t want Scar to look at him and see someone different, someone irreparably damaged after just one week spent apart. What if that makes him less desirable to Scar now as well? 

(He knows he’s being ridiculous. He knows, he knows, but he can’t help it. It hurts. It hurts so so much.)

“Grian,” Scar replies after a moment, undoubtedly recognizing the moment Grian gets pulled back under by the torrent of his endless anxieties. He presses closer, offering himself as the tether keeping Grian afloat, foreheads touching so all Grian can see is the boundless affection present in his bright, green eyes.

It almost burns to look at.

Grian can’t look away.

Wordless tears form at the edges of Grian’s vision, but then Scar is speaking again, uttering something so bizarre that Grian is at a complete loss on how to respond, leaving his tears frozen in place as his eyes widen with confusion.

“Thank you,” Scar says, once again brushing his thumb over the mark next to Grian’s eye. His touch is gentle as always, which sets something in Grian toppling, and the tears fall, one by one. Some pool at the tips of Scar’s fingers, slowly streaking down his skin.

Scar is undeterred by it, smiling softly as he leans in and kisses the marred and tear-streaked skin. Grian can’t handle it. 

“Scar, what—“ he manages to choke out before losing his voice to a weak sob, his lips quivering as Scar leans down to press a kiss to the scratch on his chin as well. “Scar.”

Scar hears the unspoken question, and he hums softly against the fragile skin. He answers, but it leaves Grian with even more questions, unable to understand. “You survived.”

Grian opens his mouth, but nothing aside from a ragged breath escapes, because how is he supposed to respond to that? 

He cannot even begin to comprehend why Scar felt compelled to thank him of all things while tracing over his scars like they were something precious— something to be grateful for? celebrated? Grian doesn’t know.

But when he looks at Scar, he sees nothing but sincerity. An honest adoration. Genuine relief that he can look upon Grian’s face at all. That they didn’t lose each other.

And although he may not comprehend, Grian finds that he wants to. He wants to see what Scar sees, because somehow, despite everything, Scar still sees something beautiful when he looks his way. 

Grian’s heart swells and with another broken sob, he falls forward into Scar’s welcoming arms.

#scarian #hhau #i had no idea how to cut this off really because i could write about hhau for hours on end -- #but hopefully this is nice :3c #i felt it appropriate to write from Grian's pov which was wEEEEIRDDD i hope i did ok #link answers #link writes #ALSO #Ange knows this but i have an art to go with this-- #im gonna post it separately tho #kiss prompts

[howdoyoudothedew]

i just watched kung fu panda 4 and i rewrote one of the final scenes for po/tai lung so spoilers ahoy

“I’m gonna get back my staff, give all of you your kung fu back, and then I’m going to kiss you,” Po says seriously.

“What?” Tai Lung says, taken aback. Po’s eyes widen.

“I’m going to give you back your kung fu,” Po says.

“No, the other thing,” Tai Lung says.

“I’m going to get my staff back?” Po says.

“The other thing,” Tai Lung says.

“I’m going to defeat the Chameleon,” Po says.

“Not that, you stupid panda, the last thing!” Tai Lung hisses quietly.

“Wha-what last thing?” Po says, looking away. “I didn’t say a last thing. Do you remember me saying a last thing? Cause-” he breaks off with a strained laugh. “ I didn’t.”

“Panda…” Tai Lung says lowly, reaching through the bars and grabbing Po’s face to force him to look at him. “Get me my kung fu back and you can have as many kisses as you want.”

Po flushes, then perks up. “Wait, really?”

“Yes,” Tai Lung sighs, regretting it already.

“Alright! Okay!” Po nods, dislodging his hands without even noticing, and dances away, giving a “no take backs!” and finger guns over his shoulder, nearly tripping as he does. Tai Lung settles in to watch the fight, not even dreaming about taking back his words to this strange, excited panda who he once thought he hated.

#kung fu panda #kung fu panda 4 #po #tai lung #kfp po #po x tai lung #link writes #kfp4 spoilers #kfp 4

[thepinklink]

“C’mon, Vet, it’s just a scratch,”

Twilight tries to reassure the fussy Veteran as he presses his hands against the recently acquired puncture wound in the Rancher’s abdomen.

“This is hardly a scratch, Rancher,” Legend snaps, switching to just one hand as he rummages around in his bag. “You’re bleeding out.”

“That’s a little dramatic,” Twilight teases, and it’s true. “I’m not bleeding out, just bleeding a little much for our comfort.”

“I’d rather you weren’t bleeding at all,” Legend’s face is set in a grimace as he pulls his hand out of his bag with a thick square of gauze. “No potions; think I gave my last one to the champion.”

“Fine, it’s not a potion-worthy wound anyways,” Twilight replies. “Other people will need one more than me.”

“You’d better hope not. If I’m out of potions, chances are everyone’s out of potions.”

Twilight winces at that. He’s right; Legend always carries more potions than everyone else, true to his nature. Movement behind the Veteran catches his attention and he sees a bokoblin drawing back its bowstring.

“Vet, watch it—!” He yanks Legend down to the ground, flinching at the thwack of the arrow against the tree he’s leaned against.

“Good catch,” Legend thanks him quickly before pulling out his sword and charging at the ‘blin. “Don’t you dare stop applying pressure to that!”

Twilight grins. Ever the worrier, Legend is, and he’s been worse after the rancher’s brush with death back at the inn. Well, everyone has, but he’s noticed it most in Legend. The prickly, snarky Veteran, who has out-adventured them all before the age of eighteen, has turned out to be quite the caretaker.

Even now, Legend doesn’t stray far from Twilight’s position against the tree. After killing the bokoblin archer, he’s fallen back to a defensive position just in front of Twilight, and none too soon—another wave of monsters bombards teh once-peaceful clearing and the Veteran has his hands full defending the vulnerable Twlight.

As for the Rancher himself, he quickly begins to feel guilty. The stab wound isn’t anywhere he’s ever been stabbed before. Even if he is tasting blood and bleeding a tad bit profusely, he should be able to fight. But when he tries to stand up, he ends up getting dizzy and sitting back down heavily. It takes him back to when the dark lizalfos first hurt him, further urging him to get up and fight—he doesn’t like having to sit here as the anxiety of past events nags at him.

It becomes unbearable when Legend gets thrown across the clearing by a moblin and doesn’t get up immediately. Twilight is on his feet faster than he realized, almost sprinting towards Legend’s position, sword drawn. His wound throbs violently but adrenaline masks it well. Twilight yells as the Moblin raises it’s club above the Veteran’s stirring form, and throws his sword at the creature’s back, effectively catching its attention.

It turns, looming over Twilight and obviously burning with rage. Twilight, having lost his sword and being remarkably unprepared to be barreled over by a creature twice his height, turns to at least distract it long enough for Legend to get up. He leads it back towards the tree he was just under, and is almost there when a sharp stab of pain through his gun sends a shockwave through the rest of his body. He must black out for a second, because when he tunes back into the world, he’s lying on the ground and the Moblin is dead.

He sits up and almost immediately regrets it when the world starts spinning and his gut erupts into searing pain. He inhales sharply, triggering a coughing fit that ends with blood on his hands and dripping down his chin. He hates the why his heart races at the memory of the last time he was coughing up blood.

Evidently, he isn’t the only one having flashbacks. Sky is kneeling in front of him, gently slapping his cheeks to get him to focus. Twilight smiles at him reassuringly. This has nothing to do with the dark lizard. He won’t resist potions or fairies this time, because it’s a regular wound. He grasps Sky’s hand, trying to get him to realize this isn’t like last time and there’s no need to worry. Not as much, at least.

“I’m fine,” he rasps. “You have to help the Veteran.”

“Captain’s got him,” It’s Sky’s turn to reassure. “Just hang in there, okay?”

Twilight can do that, easy. He must be more drained than he realized, though, because the next thing he knows he’s being woken up, despite not recalling when he fell asleep. There’s a bandage wrapped tightly around his middle. The battle is over by now and the clearing is silent, everyone gathered around him.

“We’re ready to move on,” Sky says softly. “Can you stand?”

He’s quick to nod, and even though it hurts he’s able to get to his feet. He searched around for Legend, and finds him, seemingly asleep, and being piggy-backed by Time. The bandage hides the wound on the side of his head but not the blood that runs from it.

“Is the Vet alright?” Twilight asks, and Sky nods, and then hesitates.

“Well…he’s not dead, but he’s got a pretty bad concussion. We’re out of potions and fairies, so we’ll need to find a town, and soon.”

“Portal,” the call comes from up ahead and only Wind seems to have the energy to bemoan it. One by one, the battle-worn and weary heroes resign themselves to their fate, and walk through the portal without a word.

* * *

Hylia herself must have decided they deserved this break, because they were let out at the front gate of Twilight’s very own Kakariko Village. They’re able to get their hands on a couple potions—it is unfortunately in the middle of the night, so they’re only able to get a few using Twilight’s reputation as the town hero—and several people’s conditions are improved. For the first time in awhile, the heroes spend the night in beds and no one is in too much danger of dying—although, Legend’s concussion is bad enough that Hyrule insists on watching him through the night, even after he’s given a bit of potion, just to be sure.

The night passes without incident, however, and the next day they purchase almost every potion Kakariko has to offer and Twilight finds himself, completely healed, sitting on the edge of his bed, enjoying the peace and quiet.

A knock on the floor interrupts the silence, and Legend enters. He leans against the bedpost next to Twilight, and is quiet for a moment.

“Thank you,” he says presently, “for saving me.”

Twilight smiles. “Of course. I’m always happy to help preserve your life.”

They fall into a slightly awkward pause.

“I should also thank you,” Twilight remarks. “For taking care of me.”

Legend shrugs. “It wasn’t much. Just a piece of gauze. Didn’t even do that much to help in the battle, I managed to get myself a concussion and if Sky hadn’t stepped in, you’d be dead.” Twilight hears the bitterness in the statement.

“You did a lot.” Twilight says. Legend raises an eyebrow, and Twilight is ashamed to say he can’t think of anything regarding that particular battle that would disprove Legend’s point. “It meant a lot to me, anyways.”

“Glad to help,” Legend nods.

Another pause.

“I…guess I should say sorry.”

That catches Legend by surprise. “What for?”

“I could have been more accepting of your help. You were just looking out for me and I tried to reject it.”

“Because you wanted someone else to get that help,” Legend shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re apologizing for protesting out of selflessness.”

“Well…no, no one really needed the help at the time. I was just in denial, I didn’t want to admit I’d gotten hurt and couldn’t fight. Again.” Twilight frowns, once again remembering the last battle that nearly killed him.

“Water under the bridge,” Legend says breezily. “I’ve done it before, we’ve all done it before, we still do. It isn’t in our nature to be useless, especially not in a fight.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Twilight snorts. “Anyways, I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. Don’t let it weigh you down.”

The ease with which the Veteran gives out his grace makes Twilight smile.

“You’re a big softy, you know that?”

Legend glares at him sharply, feathers obviously ruffled.

“Shut up,” he mutters. “I already have the Sailor calling me soft, I can’t have you doing it too.”

“It’s technically too late.”

“Shhh.”

“At least I know why your dark world form is a rabbit.”

Legend’s glare turns murderous. “I’m going to bury you.”

“I love you too.”

“Almost dying has made you almost as insufferable at the Captain, you know that?”

Twilight just laughs.

#this has been sitting in my writing app for awhile #it isnt the best thing I’ve ever written #but it’s sweet #enjoy!! #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu legend #lu twilight #link writes

[liquid-geodes]

Ya know what?!

FUCK IT WE BALL

TURN THAT POV INTO A PROMPT, LET'S SEE HOW YOU WRITE ONE OF THESE BAD BOIS.

FUCK IT WE BALL

It wasn't supposed to be this way. You weren't supposed to be here right now, not when he was certain you had left the building almost an hour prior.

In truth, you had, but upon arriving home you realized you had left your charger at work, so you made your way back, knowing Dave would still be there to let you in of needed. You should have called first, let him know you were coming back, maybe then you wouldn't be in this mess.

The building had been awful quiet when you walked in, but that wasn't out of the ordinary. Freddy's was closed right now, and the night guard was the only person in the building. What was out of the ordinary, was that Dave hadn't made it around to locking the front door yet, though you brushed it off as simple carelessness on his part. He always did seem aloof around other's, always hanging around quietly, eyeing the room and the people in it with an almost scrutinizing gaze. Everyone always said there was something a little off about Dave Miller, but you never saw it, not until tonight at least.

Dave wasn't a man of many words around others, but he always found time to talk to you. It was incredible really, how he seemed to come to life when it was just the two of you alone. The normally quiet and reserved night guard would become animated and theatric in your presence, with a bizarre sense of humor you found endearing. He had really grown to like you, and you him. If only you had known the man he truly was, but then you'd leave him, wouldn't you?

So he kept his secret as far away from you as possible, at least he had.

Until tonight.

Now he met your wide eyed gaze as blood covered himself and the floor behind him, his latest victim lying lifeless on the ground behind him.

"Oh Darling..." came his frighteningly calm voice. You couldn't help but notice the drop of his accent, or rather, the invitingly smooth addition of a British accent you didnt even known he had.

"I really wish you hadn't seen that."

You both knew what would happen next, and you both knew that you should be running for your life right now, yet you stayed planted firmly in the same spot in shock.

It really wasn't supposed to be this way, and what he had to do next would haunt him for the rest of his life.

#surprisingly short for a dave fix tbh #but the cringe is after me #dave posting #link's asks #link writes #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #william afton #fnaf william afton #fnaf dave miller #dave miller #william afton x reader #dave miller x reader

[links-destiny]

I am really predictable with my OTPs... 😅 Feel free to do only one or neither of these but: BeckMason + what they do during the downtime when Beck's android is in jail. AND/OR OckVulture + meeting and bonding again as cellmates after S1E8.

Word count: (515)

Notes: Hopefully, I'm doing them justice, but I decided to pick BeckMason since I'm still trying to figure out the characters of TSSM. I enjoyed getting some insight on how other people interpret them :]

Mysterio is clearly not alright with the arrangements that have been made. He understands that the plan is to have Electro break the other members of the Sinister Six out of The Raft, along with having his double assist with the escape, but what do they mean he has to 'lie low' and for how long!? Simply unacceptable...

Having to pretend that he's still residing in prison and out of commission for weeks on end is just awful and dreadful work. How can they expect him to just sit still, and hang up the persona that is the Great Mysterio, Master of the Arcane Arts?

Tinkerer isn't particularly happy with the situation either. Sure, he and Beck are very close now after working many times before. It's always nice to spend time with someone that he not only just tolerates but actually cares about too but try concentrating on any of your delicate projects when you're constantly around an actor with a wounded pride and having to hear the continuous droning of his supposedly dramatic 'theater voice'.

"Why is all this junk on my workbench, Beck? This clearly has your handiwork written all over it, and please take this by all offense, but nobody's buying your butchered rendition of Latin anymore." Tinkerer shakes his head and starts shuffling the papers that were scattered across the table. It's obviously a concise and neatly typed-out script that his significant other has been working on, but right now he wants nothing to do with it while he tries to work. "Anyway, I thought I told you to have a designated space all the way over there."

"Don't manhandle my papers. You might ruin them." Mysterio snags them from his hands, trying his best to smooth over any wrinkles and bends that were made.

His tiring expression softens for a moment. "You know I wouldn't do that, even if they happen to be such an inconvenience."

Mysterio pouts, looking down at the plain clothes he's been wearing. They show nothing of the flare he's most used to, and even Tinkerer catches on. "It's the only thing I've been focused on. This is my own way of being productive since I can't roam around, lest someone is to recognize me. As soon as the others come back, I can finally have a plan at the ready and a show to perform under the guise of Mysterio again."

Tinkerer rolls his eyes, leaning against the table of his workspace. "What could you possibly need rehearsed lines for? You're a capable criminal, not some actor flaunting for their next role anymore. We have a few days left before Electro passes rehab. Don't tell me you're honestly worried that you're starting to get rusty or something."

The silence afterward definitely told Tinkerer all that he needed to know. He sighs heavily. "Maybe I'm now realizing that I underestimated how much this quarantine is starting to affect you more than it is me..."

He grabs Mysterio's hand and pulls him away from the space. "Come on, I think we both definitely deserve a break."

#Marvel #TSSM #The Spectacular Spider-Man #Fanfic #Request #Link's askbox #Mysterio #Quentin Beck #Tinkerer #Phineas Mason #A struggling tech specialist trying to support his drama queen husband #BeckMason #Link writes

[heroofhyrulelink]

I've begun rewriting an old SidLink fic I wrote back in 2017. I've posted two chapters already, here's the link! -> The Hero of Hyrule

I'll also add in the link for the older fic, in case any of you want to reread/revisit that. -> The Hero of Hyrule (2017)

#sidlink #loz fanfic #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #link rambles #link writes #check them out ive been on a writing kick these days #i have abt 7 chapters of this done so im doing pretty good imo

[w1770w]

GUMROAD IS BANNING NSFW CONTENT IN THE NEXT 24 HOURS

I haven't seen anyone talk about this yet, so I might as well.

They've updated their content policy to comply with payment processor Stripe and Paypal's censorhip. They gave 24 hours. On March 16th 2024, Gumroad TOS will no longer allows sales of any written or drawn nsfw content.

This is going to hurt for so many creators. Giving that little time leaves people's source of income wildly unstable, especially with such a huge overhaul of what content is allowed.

I hate this. I hate what censorship is turning the internet into. I hate that nsfw content creators keeo getting pushed to the fringes, that they need to digitally migrate so often, because nowhere can be trusted to allow their art for long.

I don't know what to do next, there isn't some sort of "here's what you can do to help!" People just deserve to know.

#gumroad #comics #webcomics #writing #current events #link #text #my words #personal #words #tech

[furiousdinosaurdestiny]

I feel called out hehe

#writerslife #writer memes #writers woes #writers meme #writer problems #writers #writer #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr #writers and poets #writerscommunity #ao3 writer #writer things #female writers #ao3 #ao3feed #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 tags #ao3fic #ao3 author #ao3 stuff #wattpad

[littlelightfish]

This... this is a whole different kind of psychic damage here. When nightmares got Marcille, we get to knew that her's biggest fear is outliving her friends. This isn't even canon probably, but look at this. This isn't a "I don't want my friends to die" kind of dream. This is a "I'm terrified of loosing my daughters, of something killing them, and being incapable of stopping it" kind of dream. It's so simple yet it explains perfectly the whole of chilchucks character. He loves, he cares, deeply. But he, or doesn't acknowledges, or doesn't know what to do with that knowledge.

Besides that. Someone had to wake him up after this. Imagine the devastation in this man after he wakes up. He just saw his three little babys murdered corpses (or maybe he saw them die, wich isn't better). He would possibly not talk about it, and that would worry the hell out of the party, because we'll, they see him all down and only one of them knows what he saw. Imagine being the one to pull him from that nightmare. Seeing this man, usually so composed, fuking staring with tears and terror in his eyes to the composes of what you can only assume are his daughters. It would be heartwrenching.

Idk, I love this man so much...

#dungeon meshi #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #if someone wants to write a fic on this #@ me #PLEASE I WANT TO SEEEE #or dm me so i actually see it #please #if someone makes something of this post... #swnd me an ask with a link #this post exploded i cant with all the notifs #i wouldnt know if someone @'d me #i did a tags recap down on the notes and wrote a bit of #chilchuck angst #for the simps out there #my shit

[zwoelffarben]

Edit: A writer's strike has not started. The Guild's membership has just authorized one in the cause that Guild reps and studio executives cannot come to an agreement on the contract.

Don't pull out the spirit holloween banners yet, is all I'm saying.

Edit 2, circa May 1, 2023: The studios have refused to negociate with the writers' guild in good faith, leaving the guild no choice but to strike.

A WGA STRIKE HAS BEGUN.

#for the sake of most recent information being circulated‚ this post will be locked with a link to the most recent news #thank you everyone for my first 20K notes post #destiel news #writers' guild of america #strike #wga #writing #hollywood

[autolenaphilia]

It's funny how clearly uninformed a lot of criticism of Mozilla and its browser Firefox is. Like people say "it's just another corporation, out to make profit, just like Google." And that ordinary users promoting Firefox are just giving them free advertising.

It's in basically any post criticizing Mozilla, including on this site. Like using tumblr search I quickly found a post that was largely positive, but argued that Mozilla operates "under capitalist incentives" And outside tumblr I found a blog post out on the interwebs that criticized Mozilla and outright wondered "I don't know if Mozilla's business model ever made sense, it makes a lot more sense if it's something closer to a nonprofit rather than a commercial entity."

Well, let's research the Mozilla Corporation, see what that business model actually is. Let's begin that research by going to the wikipedia article, and read the two introductory paragraphs. And it turns out that it's "a wholly owned subsidiary of the Mozilla Foundation", which is a non-profit.

"The Mozilla Foundation will ultimately control the activities of the Mozilla Corporation and will retain its 100 percent ownership of the new subsidiary. Any profits made by the Mozilla Corporation will be invested back into the Mozilla project. There will be no shareholders, no stock options will be issued and no dividends will be paid. The Mozilla Corporation will not be floating on the stock market and it will be impossible for any company to take over or buy a stake in the subsidiary."

Turns out that it is not just "closer to a non-profit", it is literally a non-profit. Turns out you only needed two paragraphs on wikipedia to learn that, the most basic online research possible, which basically every post I found criticizing Mozilla failed to do.

This is entirely different from any other entity calling itself corporation, which is all about creating profit or money for its shareholders, the "capitalist incentives" spoken about earlier.

If you read further into that article, you will learn that the Mozilla corporation literally only exists separate from the foundation for tax and legal purposes, but it's still a non-profit operation.

This makes it reasonably immune from the enshittification process I've written about before. there is no incentive to fuck over the experience for end users for the sake of shareholder profits, like what tumblr is doing right now.

It means that Firefox is an exemption to the rule that "if something is free, you are the product", because there is no product to produce profits for shareholders, it's a charitable endeavour for a free and open internet, as laid out in the Mozilla manifesto.

This doesn't mean non-profits make corruption impossible, there is plenty of corruption in non-profit foundations. But unlike actual capitalist corporations, it doesn't have the greed and corruption built in. And if you are going to criticize Mozilla and Firefox, which it does sometimes deserve, you should have your basic facts straight before doing so, if you expect me to take you seriously.

#mozilla firefox #mozilla foundation #my writings #i ranted about this before including in the post i linked #but so much of the mozilla criticism i see about is just plain objectively wrong

[linkito]

ok listen. listen. i need this. i love this.

kiss prompt #22 in a rush of adrenaline. (scariannnn)

“Scar!” Grian exclaims, rushing toward his soulmate with newfound urgency.

The death was already wholly destabilizing, made worse by feeling every ounce of pain and panic Scar was experiencing while being unceremoniously torn apart by zombies, but to make matters even more terrible, Scar hadn’t slept in the same bed as him to respawn. 

Of course he didn’t. 

They hadn’t shared a bed at all since this whole game began, even though they had before, almost as if the soulbound only served to drag them apart.

That meant that after the agonizing experience of a shared death, the two of them woke up separated. Grian has no idea where his partner was, left alone with their pursuers, who luckily decided to show an ounce of mercy as he picked up their scattered supplies with trembling hands. 

But as soon as he spotted Scar on the horizon, he dropped everything and ran, heart pounding in his throat from lingering fear and the ever-growing anxiety that maybe Scar wouldn’t return at all.

Which leads to him calling out his soulmate’s name in desperation, leaping to meet him the moment he sees Scar open his arms in a slightly reserved offering. His eyes are downcast, pointed ears drooped in shame, but Grian barely registers it before he’s flapping his wings with what little strength he can muster in their clipped state and practically tackling Scar. 

Scar stumbles backward a few steps with a slight yelp, momentarily startled, but then more pleasantly surprised than anything to find his partner cling to his chest, hands gripping tight to any bunching of fabric he can find.

“G?” Scar asks, voice almost timid, and Grian finds that he doesn’t like that tone at all.

It doesn’t belong. It isn’t right.

He grabs Scar’s face and kisses it right off of him, leaving his soulmate absolutely reeling to catch up with the rush of adrenaline Grian is experiencing right now.

It’s rushed and awkward, lips pressed together a little too hard. And though it takes a second, Scar snaps out of his stupor, grabbing hold of Grian’s cheek as he leans in further, returning the kiss much more softly, but with an equal amount of fervor--

And then Grian is immediately pulling away, as if the mere concept of Scar actually returning the affection was not something he had accounted for, causing him to recoil as his face flushes red, eyes quickly averting Scar’s gaze.

Suddenly, he’s terrified once again.

#DOUBLE LIFE JUMPSCARE #i love dl scarian ok #scarian #link answers #link writes #i dont love the doodle but it was fun regardless sooo WOOHOO #hermitshipping #link draws

[howdoyoudothedew]

Imagine if Tai lung and shifu reconciled in the spirit realm and tai lung calls shifu dad

There are a few things Shifu was planning to do once he made it to the spirit realm. First, take a breath because he’s finally free from dealing with Po for hopefully a few decades. Then he’d find Oogway and talk to his old friend again. Finally, he would find Tai Lung wherever he is, and he would apologize again. He will hug his son like he should’ve when Oogway said he wouldn’t be the dragon warrior. The second he enters the spirit realm, all of his plans fall apart, but by this point he’s used to it. This time it’s not so bad, anyway. Tai Lung looks at him, his eyes wide and just as young as the last time he saw him. Unlike the last time, when he runs to him it’s to pick him up in a bone-crushing hug. Shifu laughs awkwardly at the affection. “Dad! You’re here!” Tai Lung says, dropping him and stepping back, posture straightening, going rigid like when he was in training. His tail sways back and forth, just barely a calm pace. “I’ve been waiting for you.” “I can see that,” Shifu says with a light smile. He has the feeling Tai Lung has already forgiven him. He can see the way peace– true peace– softens the line of his shoulders, the curve of his smile. It settles something in Shifu’s chest, something he tried hard to not acknowledge for many years. Maybe his damage wasn’t as irreversible as he feared. Maybe, just maybe, they can be okay again. Better than okay. Tai Lung reaches for him openly and Shifu reaches back. “Oogway will be excited to see you again,” Tai Lung says. “You seem sure of that,” Shifu says and Tai Lung smiles back at him, bright and knowing. Eventually he will say his apologies, but for now he thinks they should wait. His son is in front of him, and happy, and they have time now. Time he will not waste again.

I think it could be pretty cute

#kung fu panda #master shifu #tai lung #shifu #kfp shifu #link answers #link writes #mayodayo

[blumineck]

Bows vs Guns: when does it make sense for modern/ sci-fi characters to use guns?

This is just one example! For a longer breakdown (with some bonus history!), check out my YouTube channel.

And don’t forget there are art reference packs now up on Patreon!

#I will reblog this with a link to the full video #but I can’t rn because both posts are scheduled #but once the link is live I’ll do it #is this why people have queue tags #archer #archery #nerd #fantasy #sci fi #fiction #writing #queue didn’t see that coming

[liquid-geodes]

H E R E ✨

I'd say his backstory is relatively the same as canon, the only thing that changes is that he decayed realistically.

I don't think this one needs any warning, but you can still ask to tag

Had he known the morning prior would have been the last sunrise he'd ever see again, William would have admired it longer. Now he was trapped, in a prison of his own making no less. It wasn't his fault, was it?

No. No he was only trying to gather the rest of the family... the rest of the lost souls.

Perhaps this was for the better, perhaps this was exactly where he needed to be. They would be together now, until the end of time. Never aging, never dying. Finally, he could put them all back together except...

He wasn't sure where he was.

He had known, at first at least, despite his sudden loss of vision, something the springlocks must have taken of course, or perhaps the years of decay is what took his sight from him. Whatever it was, it didn't matter now, not when there was still work to be done.

He had been moved, that much he knew, away from Freddy's, away from the family he had finally managed to gather. The voices that took him were unfamiliar, but undoubtedly young. Too young to have ever remembered his name, too young to know what they were dealing with.

Too young to know that they never should have taken him to something involving Freddy's.

Fazbear Frights. That was the name of the location he had been brought to. At least, that is what he was certain he had overheard. It was true what they said, that losing one sense heightened the rest. His hearing had become incredible after decades of living in darkness, so much so that he was certain he could hear their heartbeats quicken in fear as they approached his seemingly deactivated form if only he'd focus hard enough.

Disgusting. Authentic. Springtrap. That was what they had called him. How... fitting, the name had been, although they wouldn't know just how on the nose the nickname truly was. No one seemed to notice the mummified remains that made their home inside the old suit, writing off the smell as nothing more than years of abandonment. After all, it wasn't unreasonable to assume mice had found their way inside the contraption to make their home, right?

William, no. Springtrap spent his nights acclimating himself to his new surroundings. An old arcade cabinet here, a hallway there, an entrance to the ventilation system next to what he assumed was an emergency exit door on account of the alarms that would blare whenever he tried to open the door. He had been able to get a good lay of the land before their first nightguard had been hired, though he didnt stick around long once Springtrap decided to have his fun.

Then of course there was the next one, slightly older than the last, but still unwilling to put up with the animatronic's games.

Then there was Hudson, his favorite little play thing by far. How he wished he could see the look of terror on that one's face. Hudson wouldn't even approach him during the day, while he was feigning inactivity, for fear that the animatronic would come to life and hunt him down.

No, he couldn't hunt him while the lights were still on. Where was the fun in that? How was it fair that Hudson could see what Springtrap couldn't?

It wasn't. So he'd wait, until the clock chimed and alerted him that it was midnight. Six whole hours to make the nightguard regret applying to this job.

He hadn't even meant to kill Hudson, then again, he never really laid his hands on the kid. How could he? The closest he had ever gotten was during a chase in the hallway one night, but the kid had thrown so many objects in his panic, masking the sound of his retreating footsteps... Springtrap never did figure out which direction the kid had ran. The next morning was when he had discovered that he had hid in an oven in the makeshift kitchen area. Someone or something had turned it on while the kid was hiding inside, burning his favorite nightguard alive.

Of course, Springtrap had a certain... inclination towards who could have been to blame, but he could never be sure. He could feel her presence, the same as he had the night he had been springlocked, but he had no way of knowing if the Marionette was in the building with him currently. Seeing was believing after all, and Springtrap didn't exactly have vision on his side. He could feel his way around the various decorations on the walls all he wanted, but nothing would tell him with absolute certainty that the thing he was touching was connected to the proper vessel.

Before the new nightguard had been hired, a sound system had been installed throughout the building, "to heighten the customer's experience with these old tapes" the manager had said. It, however, only served to disorient and distract Springtrap while he tried to navigate his way around. Between the new audio cues and the incessant sounds of the subpar ventilation systems, he wasn't sure how east his next hunt would be.

The new nightguard did eventually show up for his first shift, and Springtrap knew the faulty ventilation would go out eventually, giving him a brief moment of blissful silence to try and locate his new prey's location. He had made it all the way to the room just in front of the fake office, a thick piece of glass being the only thing standing between him and his new playmate. He brought his hand up and loudly slammed his open palm against the material, if only to confirm his location based on the sound the two materials would make when they collided, but the startled shriek of terror that tore from the nightguard's lips told him everything he needed to know.

In the distance, he could hear the quiet question:

"Hello?"

It successfully drew him away from the office, if only to try and find where the noise was coming from, or more importantly, whoever had made the noise.

Had he been able to see through the glass in front of him, he would have been met with the familiar face of someone from his past.

#dave posting #link's asks #link writes #blind springtrap au #fnaf 3 springtrap #fnaf 3 #fnaf michael afton #five nights at freddy's 3 #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf what we found #fnaf william afton #william afton #michael afton #fazbear frights

[links-destiny]

Marko's Laughter

Word count (1,356)

No content warnings involved

Mentioned characters - Rhino // Sandman // Diamond Spider

Notes: In this AU, Marko is selectively mute and has a difficult time expressing with the Sinister Syndicate.

I know Marko can not be hurt. He is made of sand, simple as that now, but sometimes I find myself being his shield just as I would for anyone, but that is a quality that I still cling to, even after becoming the Rhino.

I mean, no person likes being punched across face anyway, whether you can feel it or not, da?

I block a fierce strike with my arm raised, keeping Diamond Spider distracted for just a moment more. Although it has been long while, this particular webbed hero is getting stronger, and more confident than before. Even so, his technique could use work.

Unlike some criminals, I'm not as stupid as people think I am, and I know exactly how to hold on my own. As Diamond Spider tries to kick me off balance, I manage to grab his leg, catching him off guard as I have many times before. At this point, it is really become terrible habit by now.

Still, his optics widen slightly before I toss his body towards side of building with bit more force than I intended. Even I am stunned. Doc did mention something about this uh, new strength that comes with suit...

There is no time for thinking though as Marko shoves two large duffle bags full of cash into my arms, snapping me out of my small moment of concern.

"No truck?" My eyes dart over to the wreckage, but this must be all that Marko could salvage under restricted time as he shakes his head in silence as usual.

Abandoning our transport, we immediately start to run in opposite direction as I could hear Diamond Spider cursing and getting up from the rubble left behind.

⟣⟡⟢

I tell myself to keep running, that anything could be better than being thrown back in Raft again, but this suit is not meant for such awful hot weather. We would not even be in this situation had things gone correctly as Doc had said but no, nothing ever does come out right.

Whether it was because of us, or whatever nonsense planning he has going on, he continues to not share the full extent of our purpose.

Heaving, I manage to choke out a thought or two. "That damn Паучок (Spider) busted our heist again! How does he keep doing that? Does he have nothing better to do?"

Marko is much faster, shifting in his sand-like form to move through streets with ease, but I can tell he is keeping close on purpose, so I am not on my own. He slides to my left and shakes one duffle bag in his hand with usual hard stare and raised eyebrow.

I've been getting better at reading his little nods and expressions but is still based mostly on my assumptions when he's not able to sign immediately. "Yes, but Doc will not be happy knowing we got less from bank. We planned for days, Marko! And we lost our truck!" Courtesy of Diamond Spider trying to jump in and steer us away from streets.

Obviously, it didn't actually work.

Instead, we slammed into the nearest street pole.

Sure, maybe we could hold our own, but that Паучок has dealt with us many times before, always figuring out new ways to take us down no matter how many times we think we have upper hand. Besides, I'd rather be a little bit of coward in order for Doc not to yell even more at us.

As I start worrying more about our predicament, I notice good hiding spot from that webbed hero, if he still happens on our trail. So I quietly point right and run straight into alley. Marko nods as he and I duck inside and hold our backs against wall, waiting for any sign that we were followed.

My breathing is heavy and rough, exhausted after running more than I am comfortable with, yet I still manage small talk quietly under my breath.

"You know, I am actually surprised in saying that I think we lost him. You would think that Паучок could spot us from mile away since we got arrested lots because of him. I mean we don't exactly blend in with crowds, you are pile of sand, and I am just some guy in dumb looking rhino costume."

I pause for a moment, reeling back to a shiver. "Oh wait, do you think he has the gift?"

Marko stares at me in confusion from behind the bandana that covers most of his face. His shoulders are tense, and his hands remain clenched. Not in the mood to sign, I see. One-sided conversations aren't easy, but I continue in a hushed whisper.

"You know! The rumors that he can use his weird powers to control tiny little пауки as his minions. чёрт побери (Damn)... is that possible, do you think?"

The nervousness kicks in. Maybe it was silly but when there are people like us existing, then surely that masked hero has similar tricks up his sleeve.

I do not expect Marko to respond to that as anyone else wouldn't bother to keep up considering I often go on and on with rambling.

Said 'Sandman' has been with Sinister Syndicate for couple of weeks now, but I have never met someone who made an active choice in living life in utter silence, like sand that he is. I didn't understand well enough, but he holds his own reasons as to why.

I peer out of the alley, seeing nobody that could resemble that purple-clad weirdo, but there's something else that I pick up. It is even bigger surprise when I start hearing laughter, coming from behind me, straight out of Marko.

As I turn, there he is, covering his mouth over hand, as he doubles over trying desperately to keep quiet. It is too much, and now, he is not even trying to hide it. I am sure if he was human, he would be crying in tears, just chuckling to himself.

I swallow any thoughts of hushing him when I note how very pretty his laugh is... Slightly cracking in pitch, rough from lack of use. This is not something I have had the privilege of witnessing.

Marko always held himself so seriously, with maybe few timid expressions here and there, but he is not one for strong emotions. Perhaps he never had many chances to freely express himself, but I do my best not to assume.

I think I like hearing his voice. To know that it is because of my ridiculous words, that his composure breaks, allowing himself to forget our situation and just release the tension he holds so closely.

While it may not be words, it is first I am able to actually listen, and I do not intend to complain, not when it is him.

I consider teasing Marko, wanting to mention how quiet he was before, and his apparent sense of humor that has decided to appear but I step back, remembering words that weren't my own.

'If he ends up feeling comfortable enough to talk in front of you, says anything at all, please do not bring it to attention and make an ill-advised comment. What he needs is a space with zero judgment and intolerance. Whatever moment he's in, let him be in that comfort, alright? That applies for you too, Octavius. Don't give me that look.'

Right, Toomes's observations...

Maybe I became too quiet in trying to remember that important piece because suddenly Marko looks up at me. I stammer to respond, trying to not make him feel singled out, but he smiles instead. It is soft and genuine even.

I clear my voice and look away, appearing more interested in the usual and boring passerby on the street. "We should head back to Doc and group now. They probably think we lost money, let us prove them wrong today."

Marko nods sharply, holding his duffle bag firmly, looking proud of himself despite our own mistakes.

Well, I could always deal with explaining ourselves on my own. It was that Паучок'c fault anyway.

#Who knew sharing some writing could be so nerve wracking #Marvel #Spidersona AU #Spider Man AU #Diamond Spider #The Rhino #Aleksei Sytsevich #Sandman #Flint Marko #Dante D'Angelo #Diamond-verse #What do I even tag for my writing?? #Link writes #Fanfic