#it just kind of happened

[hairmetal666]

He hates Steve Harrington, everything about him. His stupid, upbeat pop music. His tall fucking hair. His annoyingly bright clothes. His bullshit German luxury car.

Eddie hates that Steve's a good guy. Hates that he carried Eddie's broken and dying body out of hell. Hates that the kids love him how they do. Hates that he and Robin Buckley are the kind of best friends who might as well be siblings. Hates the way that Jonathan is back and Nancy is happy, and Steve has no resentment about any of it. Hates that he'll never, for as long as he lives, forget about six kids and a Winnebago.

And he hates, more than anything of all, the way he's always finding himself in Steve's bed. The way he falls apart when Steve is deep inside, the way he begs for more, pleads for Steve to wreck him. The way Steve treats him so good that it makes him sob.

Eddie hates himself for not being able to stop. For wanting Steve so much that sometimes he feels it as a visceral ache in the back of his molars. He hates himself for how little fight his dumb traitor heart puts into not being astronomically down bad in love with the guy immediately.

And none of this is supposed to flow from his brain to his tongue to out of his mouth, but Steve fucks him so good and slow--gives him the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life--that it all just slips out of the safe confines of his mind.

"I fucking hate you," he says. Or pants, more like, he's all flushed and sweaty and covered in come, not yet settled back to himself.

"W-what?" Steve stutters. He's standing at the edge of the bed, damp towel clenched in his fist.

True, full consciousness strikes then and he doesn't know what else to say. Steve's big eyes are wide and sad, and Eddie's brain is screaming at him to fix it, and isn't that just another thing that he hates?

"Steve. Like. Fucking look at yourself, man." He waves his hand up Harrington's perfect body. "You're the most beautiful fucking thing in the universe. And you--you embody like every fucking thing I'm supposed to hate with your money and your athletic ability, and your whole goddamn clean-cut All-American boy next door bullshit. And I--I keep ending up here when everything in me says to run away, that this--you--are too good to be fucking true."

And Steve, he's pinching the bridge of his nose, looking more than anything like he's trying not to burst into tears and this--this cannot be borne.

"I love you so fucking much." His voice cracks and he reaches out to circle his fingers around Steve's wrist, the one holding the towel. "I love you so much and I don't deserve even a second of it. Not a minute. Because you're Steve Harrington, you're--"

Steve presses his hand (he hates the the wide palms and long fingers, how they're perfect, how they hold him and comfort him and wring out pleasure again and again like it's nothing, like Steve's hands were made for making Eddie come) over Eddie's mouth. "Shut-up, Munson," he says.

"I fucking hate you too." There's ease in the way he says it, a lightness in his eyes. "I hate that you don't use conditioner. I hate that your van makes that turkey gobble sound every time you turn a corner, and you refuse to let me look at it. I hate how loud you play your music, how it makes my fucking skin shake. I hate when you forget to take the damn chains off your jeans when you put them in the wash."

Steve climbs into bed, straddling him, towel long forgotten. "You know what else I fucking hate, Eddie?" He leans down, ghosting his lips against the tip of Eddie's nose, skimming his mouth. "I hate that I've never loved anyone like I love you. I hate that I almost fucking lost you. I hate that we can't spend every minute in this goddamn bed, so I can memorize every inch of your skin, every sound you make, every single way I tear you apart, and all of the things that put you back together. I love you, Ed. Every fucking terrible part."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #angst #but not really though? #hate sex #but only kind of? #idiots in love #smut #i really don't know what this is #it just kind of happened #i thought of Eddie listing things he hated about Steve and it all poured out #this is very i hate the way i don't hate you not even close not even a little bit not even at all #it wasn't an intentional 10 things homage

[rookofthekingom]

So I may have collected a group of emotional support gay Italians? (Though maybe “gay italian” is too repetitive. I mean, we all know that “Italian” is synonymous with “gay” so)

But look at them, look how silly!

#I love them all sm #I didn’t even mean to collect them #I swear #it just kind of happened #marco mengoni #mahmood #maneskin #måneskin #blanco #blanchito #blanchitobebe #michele bravi #damiano david #victoria de angelis #vic de angelis #thomas raggi #ethan torchio

[ace-of-d1am0nds]

john bender, claire standish, and the question of who's in charge

i got TWO people who wanted this so its happeningggggg

john bender and claire standish are, in essence, the same person. hold on. just hear me out.

almost everyone knows that john uses his power to control everyone in the scene at all times. there are interviews with molly ringwald talking about how bender is written in the script to be "the only one who doesn't smoke pot" (paraphrasing) to try to control the scene, to loosen up everyone around him. whats more important than even this, though, is the way john chooses to share information about himself to the breakfast club and more importantly when. notably, he never actually introduces himself. he is asked his name; he deflects. we only first hear it when principal vernon scolds him with it. he also doesn't reveal what he is in for, again until vernon outs this information about him.

now claire volunteers her name willingly, but she never actually tells the group whats on her "rap sheet". she is already labeled as a princess throughout the course of the film and to give this piece to bender would be to give him more ammunition to hold over her, just as he did with the concept of her virginity. of course this is one of the most prominent power struggles between these two characters.

before i go back to the concept of the breakfast club's virginal status i think its really important to note that not only are claire and bender vying for power within their relationship, they also take turns holding power over the group as a whole. bender and claire control the mood of this group. if they want them to be serious, the room is silent. if they make a joke, everyone laughs. these interactions change throughout the film, with claire even taking up one of bender's techniques (brutal honesty) from the first half hour. but most importantly these exertions of control are bender and claire trying to outdo one another.

now back to the concept of claire's virginity. im sure i could a whole other shpiel about the conversations between the two of them about their sexual conquests. but that's not what im after. from the beginning, we know john wants to bang claire and that he is almost positive she wants the same. claire, however, does not share her virginal status until she is peer pressured to. bender is not the one who prompted it, and yet he is the only one she addresses when she blurts it out. just as bender only reveals his book of girls when just the two of them sidebar.

im sure bender would be horrified if he ever read this essay, stating- no demanding that she never compare herself to him again. but to be so honest he just doesn't want to admit that im right.

everything the two of these do throughout the course of this film is to prove to the other that they have the upper hand. and its why they're perfect for each other.

the pies de resistance is their last few scenes together. claire goes into the supply closet, her move. he suggests the perfect way to get back at her parents, he plays. she kisses him first, saying she knew he wouldn't have. she gives him the earring, laying the nail in the coffin. he kisses her for just a second too long. she panics. runs away. he walks away thinking he's won. fist in the air, roll credits...

#this was so much longer than i set out for it to be #it also wasn't what i first intended for it to be about #it just kind of happened #the breakfast club #john bender #claire standish

[mandaloriandragontrainer]

In my personal headcanon, Callum and Rayla wind up having quite a few kids (4 or 5 at the least). When they get to be middle aged, and their youngest is an independent teenager, they spend more time traveling together and end up visiting an orphanage near the border. It just so happens a baby Skywing elf was abandoned there the night before, and by the end of the day they’ve started the journey of parenthood right from the beginning yet again.

#they didn’t initially plan to have that many #it just kind of happened #rayla is pregnant with their first very soon after their wedding #but they love their kids so much so each new addition is met with so much love and joy and celebration #rayla is the one who immediately decides to adopt #one look at him and she’s like ‘I’m his mama now’ #it takes under an hour to win callum over #the dragon prince #callum #rayla #rayllum #callum x rayla #tdp headcanons #soft fluffy rayllum headcanons #mando ramblo

[whisperprime]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Interlude

For all that he is the King of Dreams and Nightmares, the presider of the entirety of the subconscious of all things capable of dreaming, very few people actually dream about Dream of the Endless.

Oh, people dream about the versions of him that have sprung up over the millennia. There is a teenage girl in America who recently heard the German fairytale of The Sandman, and now a figure trailing sand and a hunger for human eyes chases her through her nightmare. The sleeping mind of a young man in France who is taking Greek Mythology and is studying the classics has fashioned himself Endymion and is being woo'ed by a Hypnos that looks nothing like the original.

There are so very few beings left, however, who still dream about him as he truly is.

He is Endless. He does not need anyone to even know he exists to continue to do so. But he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit it was nice to be thought of every now and then.

Dream knows this is his own fault. When he was young he spent much more time in the Waking World interacting with people and gods then he does now.

Occasionally, he will wander these days. If he finds someone to be of interest, they will write beautiful stories together that will continue to inspire people long after the story teller is gone. But those times have become few and far between.

He always notices when he is guest staring in someone's dream (or occasional nightmare). There is only one him in the Dreaming, so he feels it like a tap on the shoulder, followed by an out stretched hand in invitation to come and join the Dreamer in whatever fantasy their sleeping mind has concocted. Once upon a time, he answered as many of those invitations as he turned down, back when his responsibilities felt more like a joy than a noose.

Now he turns down the invitations more often than he accepts. He is busy, he reasons. He has things to take care of that are more important.

Still he notices when someone is dreaming of him.

And no one dreams of Dream of the Endless more often than Hob Gadling.

The dreams tend to follow their meetings, then taper off in the following century to a trickle. They were especially persistent after the disastrous 1889 meeting. Dream, still furious at the gall of this mere human, had been especially harsh in his dismissals.

He told himself many things, when the nudges abruptly stopped. He told himself many things in the 73 years that followed. About how this was what he had wanted. About how he had not wanted to be thought of by this human.

Until.

Well.

Until 1989.

The things he told himself in the last 33 years had gradually changed the longer he had searched and found nothing, even with his considerable resources.

It has become a habit to keep an eye out for Hob's sleeping mind. A habit he should break now that the danger has past. He does not chose to look to deeply at the reason he feels soothed every time the immortal human goes and then returns, because if he looks at it he will have to force himself to stop.

All this to say, he is already absently paying attention when six months to the day Hob was freed, Dream feels the tap of an invitation.

His hand stills, sand pausing mid-creation, the rest of his body turning in the direction the call had come from. Reaching out with his senses, he follows it back to its origin only to find himself thrown a bit.

Hob is in his castle at the center of the Dreaming. A floor in the basement, to be exact.

A floor that hadn't existed prior to Hob's sleeping mind appearing and conjuring this dream-nightmare.

Distracted, he releases the the sand back to the beach of his workstation. It's a single step to bring him from there to the entrance of the dream-nightmare.

He finds himself looking at what appears to be a simple wooden door. Something that one might find in 19th century architecture. It sits innocuous, save for the fact it looks like nothing in his castle.

And for the shadows, spreading out like ink across the floor.

Dream bends down and then runs a finger through the near liquid material. The moment he touches it, he knows that this is no mere dream-nightmare that Hob has somehow managed to conjure. It should have been obvious, to a degree, given the location the area had taken root.

This is a memory. A memory that belongs to Dream.

Only it does not belong to Dream at the same time.

The anthropomorphic being stares down at what seems for all intents and purposes to be a memory of his counterpart from Hob's original timeline, surviving only because of how deeply tied to the immortal human's subconscious it's become. He can feel the edges of the memory where it's been torn off.

He cannot tell if it was torn off willingly or by Hob's journey through time.

It seems that the invitation was less Hob reaching out, so much as it was the memory attempting to reach out.

Dream narrows his eyes at the door as he contemplates his options.

Something had clearly happened to his counterpart. Something that had left a deep mark on his psyche. Something that Hob was just as clearly aware of, although Dream very much doubted the human was aware of what The Other Dream had done to share it with him.

Dream could simply contain it to this area and turn away. Never walk through that door. It would be easy. This would be something that belonged only to Hob and Hob alone now.

Dream's hand is moving before he consciously makes the decision to do so.

The instant his hand touches the door, that he opens himself up to the memory, the door dissolves into shadowy hands that near absorb his whole arm as they reach out and grab hold. He barely has time to even think about attempting to pull away before those shadowy hands yank him in, and

Into

The dream

He lands.

Sensations filter in as if he's underwater. There's a smooth, rounded surface beneath him. He can feel the cold surface in a way he shouldn't be able to feel it and he realizes he isnt wearing any clothes. His skin where his hands press against his forearms is just as cold as the surface beneath him. This body generates so little heat and as such has none to ease the chill.

He does not know where he is, but he knows he has been here a long time. When he attempts to reach for his connection to his power, he can feel nothing. A familiar rage rises up at the gall of the one's who would dare do this to him. Grief and despair lays below that, mixed with the knowledge that no one will come for him and the only one who had is now dead.

He knows if he looks he will see the dried remains of a blood splatter on the stone beneath the glass he sits on, but he cannot remember who died.

He knows this like he knows that part of the reason he is still here is because he will not speak, but after being deprived of all other autonomy, he finds himself clinging stubbornly and spitefully to the last thing that they cannot take from him.

He thinks he is in an inclosed space, for his chest burns with the want for fresh air, but there is none to draw in when he uselessly tries to anyway. The burn feels as familiar as the hunger in his belly, both dull in a way that lends to the knowledge that he has been here a while.

The last thing to trickle in is that his eyes are closed. He can hear someone moving around outside - muffled as it is by whatever he's sitting in - but his apathy clings too tight. He does not care what these people do anymore. They will eventually die and he will just as eventually be free again.

"Dream?"

The voice chisels at his apathy, but he gives it little thought. There is no way Hob could be here. No one came. He is sure of this.

Yet.

A tapping on the glass - thick from the sound of it. "Shit! Dream, snap out of it." Another tap, followed by more cursing. "Why is he being affected by this? This didn't happen."

Judging from the lowered volume, Dream figures that last part was not meant for him, although he cannot image what, supposedly, he is being affected by.

"Hold on, I'll get you out of there."

The sounds of someone moving away follow. Dream knows he should not indulge this fantasy. It will hurt more when it's over. But it's been so long since he's heard a friendly voice.

Those footsteps get louder as the hallucination returns. "Got just the thing to get you out. You might want to move away from this side."

Loathe as he is to end it, he must. Dream opens his eyes and sees round glass and dark steel, his dim reflection staring back at him.

And beyond it: Hob Gadling, real, and swiping his foot across the binding circle.

For the first time in ages, he can fill his connection with the Dreaming restored, can feel that this is all just a--

Hob raises a steel chair and swings it with more force than he would have been able to in the Waking World. The glass and the last hold the memory has on him

Shatters.

Dream gasps, as if surfacing from the Sea. It is only the implicit trust - the Other Dream's trust - that keeps him from reacting negatively in his disorientation when Hob reaches in and pulls him gently from the sphere. Allows him to take his weight as things settle into place. The edges of the memory and the connection that comes with it to Hob's subconscious has slid into place, although not altogether cleanly.

He could easily brush them both off, as easily as he could escape the circle of Hob's arms.

He finds he does not want to. It feels... safe.

It is precisely because of this that the Endless dissolves into shadows, slipping out of the immortal's grasp. When he reforms a distance away, fully clothed, he has regained control and is himself again.

Hob is standing where he was left. He is staring down at his empty arms as if mourning the loss of Dream's weight. His hands curl up into a fist as if in a vain attempt to hold onto something. After a moment, he drops his arms and turns to Dream. Looks concerned. "You okay?"

Dream ignores the question. Takes in the room, the shattered remains of the orb and the yellow circle on the stone floor, and the chair and table by a metal gate. This place is a prison.

This place was a prison built for him.

Dream turns back to the only other being in the room. Stalks up until he towers over him. "If you ever wish to leave here, you will not dodge my questions. What is this place?"

Hob looks up at him, resigned, but unafraid. When he speaks next, he honestly sounds sorry for all of this.

Dream does not want his apologies. He wants answers.

And it seems Hob is unwilling to dance around his question a second time, for he answers, "This was your prison, the first time around." He must feel fearless, because he takes his eyes off of Dream to look out into the basement.

Something dark and deeply unhappy crosses his expression. Dream knows what he's going to say with blinding clarity, even before he says it. Feels regret for his threat, even as he refuses to back down from it.

Where have you been since 1916, Hob Gadling?

"It's where I was imprisoned, the second time around."

Dream feels something cold slithering up his spine, pieces falling into place.

You need not come to my defense.

"Hob Gadling, what have you done?"

Part 11

#the sandman #hob gadling #dream of the endless #dreamling #my fics #title: carry you back into the light #my hand slipped and i wrote a bit from dream's pov #these two idiots need to get their shit together #hopefully that's in the next part #i dont know where the connection bit came from #it was not in the original plans #it just kind of happened #but I'm rolling with it

[there-is-just-me-myself-and-i]

#BC edits #my edits...i guess #joonas porko #it just kind of happened #blind channel

[abluehappyface]

The 5th and final part of the Sanae works! It does cut of prematurely, but I still LOVE IT! Once again with the very unique vibes for Sanae. I have no idea what kind of cover this is, but I am LIVING for it! It's both gentle and powerful, with slight hints of grace. I don't know if this theme counts as Sanae's or Suwako's, so I might do a separate version of this for both of them should I do a Suwako day celebratory thing (which is likely.) Onto the Sakuya themes now!

#bluey's resounds #bluey's touhou ost resounds #bluey's instrumentals #bluey's audios #bluey's songs #bluey's doing some video game osts! #bluey's fun posts! #bluey's hyperfixations #bluey's very happy :) #bluey's birthday posts #bluey's nonsense #bluey's music #man all of Sanae's themes came out really unique compared to everything else I've made #I didn't mean to do that either #it just kind of happened #abluehappyface

[takenbythestarcatchers]

Tried to merge lanes today and didn’t see the car in my blind spot and almost hit him. He zoomed around me and started yelling at me and it made me cry so I apologized and he quickly changed his tone and was like “it’s okay. Please just be careful” and drove off. 💀

#i literally can’t handle being yelled at LOL #I didn’t mean to cry #it just kind of happened

[golden--doodler]

if you ever wanted to share genderfluid gene headcanons i would like to hear them 👀👀

Oh my gosh thank you 😭

I would absolutely love to share some Genderfluid headcanons about my baby boy!

--I like to think that when he's older and figured out his identity, his pronouns might be He/She/They :3 (idk, I just get that kind of vibe from him).

--This is basically canon already, but he adores dresses, way more than suits. He only ever tolerates wearing men's formal wear. Really, the only time he actually enjoyed wearing one was when he was playing Hans Gruber in Work Hard Or Die Trying, Girl. He definitely believes that dresses make women look more powerful than suits make men look more powerful. And he thinks they have so much more variety. He threw a fit once when Bob and Linda tried to make him wear a suit to a fancy event, and he didn't feel like tolerating masculinity/gender norms that night. So, they compromised, and he wore a fancy black shirt with a bowtie on top and a long black skirt. People stared, and most likely made fun in secret, but he was very happy.

--I stole this from your Genderfluid Gene fic, but whenever he's feeling dysphoric, Tina and Louise like to tell him he's a secret agent and has to go undercover and pretend to be a boy. It sounds silly, but it really helps him.

--This is honestly kind of ridiculous and silly, but I like to think that one of the earliest memories he had of questioning his gender was when he watched Dora the Explorer when he was really young and he just remembers wanting to be Dora so bad and solving them mysteries 😭 He begged Bob and Linda to let him be Dora that Halloween.

--The way he first figured out the label Genderfluid applied to him was he ended up reading one of Tina's erotic friend fictions that she left on her desk unsupervised one afternoon. She made one of the characters Genderfluid, and the gears just started turning in his brain, and he came to the sudden realization that he felt Genderfluid himself.

--His ultimate dream is to be cast in a female role for a musical. One of his dream roles is Audrey in Little Shop of Horrors. Another one is, of course, Anna of Cleves in Six.

--Whenever he feels Nonbinary, he likes to joke around and say that restrooms are a scam. But no matter what, he absolutely does not enjoy the men's restroom. He always says it's a warzone in there. He's probably never used a urinal in his life, and doesn't plan to. He enjoys stall privacy.

--He's definitely going to want to wear a wedding dress if/when he gets married, and he will look incredible that day. He also always begs to be a bridesmaid/maid of honor whenever he gets invited to someone else's wedding.

--One of the only traditionally masculine things he enjoys is maybe baseball if you could even call that traditionally masculine. He hates playing catch with the ball itself (we all know how playing catch with Bob went) but he really enjoys playing the actual game. He can get quite competitive, especially if he's playing with Tina and Louise.

--Another small, silly thing, but he switches things with Louise all of the time. A canon example is when they switched the bowler hat and flapper feather with each other (very adorable moment). Whenever anyone hands Gene a traditional "boy" thing and Louise a traditional "girl" thing, like colored balloons or anything else of the sort, they always swap, because screw gender norms. It always makes them feel very affirmed. After a while, certain people they know began catching on and giving them gifts they'd prefer more, but most of the time people still get it wrong.

--Building on the above headcanon, one time, an ice cream shop worker accidentally gave him bright pink, cotton candy ice cream, and he deemed it the best dessert moment he's ever had. He even convinced the worker to top it with pink M&Ms.

--Another thing I stole from your Genderfluid Gene fic, but he definitely goes to Tammy for fashion advice after she's warmed up to him somewhat. She even agreed to braid a strand of his hair once, and in return, he helped her paint her nails (he picked up the skill by helping Tina do hers on occasion).

--His favorite show when he was really young was Sofia the First, because of that one episode where they challenged gender roles and gender norms.

#gene belcher #thank you for giving me an excuse to ramble about my boy #someone said once that louise wasn't using her feminity so she gave it to Gene which is so true #don't ask me how i got the idea for the dora the explorer one #it just kind of happened #also you know that boy's going to wear a dress on his wedding day and he's going to absolutely slay #that headcanon is very important to me

[jvlthecookiesblog]

I present...

CROC ERET!!!

#trust me i had no idea why i made this #it just kind of happened #eretblr #eret fanart #eret supremacy #mcyt #eret mcyt

[arecaceae175]

Whumptober Day 24: Fight, Flight, or Freeze, Blood Covered Hands (Hyrule)

Read here or on AO3. Trigger Warnings: ambiguous ending, graphic descriptions of violence, injury, lots of blood. It's a bit rough, not gonna lie.

Part 1/2. Part 2.

Hyrule woke to a frenzy. There were monsters everywhere and a portal had just sparked into existence.

“Through the portal!” Time ordered as he pulled out his Biggoron sword. He slashed at the closest monster, giving himself a chance to quickly grab his bag. 

“‘Rule, move!” Legend called. 

Hyrule rolled out his bedroll, snatched his sword, and jumped to his feet in one fluid motion. A darknut slashed its sword down into Hyrule’s bedroll, slicing it entirely in half. Hyrule felt his shoulders drop. 

He liked that blanket, Hyrule thought with a frown. 

Hyrule shook his head to clear his mind, and refocused on his surroundings. They had made camp in a cave and enemies were pouring in the entrance, so they were effectively trapped. A portal was swirling against one cave wall just in front of their camp. Hyrule watched as Time ushered Sky and Legend through the portal. Two darknuts followed.

The darknut in front of him brought its sword back up and turned to face Hyrule. He readjusted his stance, ready to roll to the side. He leaned to the left, and just as the darknut swiped its sword Hyrule ducked and rolled to the right. He grabbed his bag as he rolled and jumped to his feet behind the darknut. He threw the strap over his shoulder then took off toward the portal. The darknut would take too long to defeat in such an enclosed space. 

Hyrule dodged two more swords and one spear as he rushed to the portal. As he neared, Wind, Wild, and Twilight jumped through the portal. The darknuts seemed to catch on, and nearly half abandoned their fight to rush the portal. Time and Warriors were trying to hold off the darknuts, but they kept trying to hit them from the front with their swords. Hyrule’s heart fell to his feet as he realized they must not recognize the enemies. 

Warriors shoved Four out of the way of a spear and he fell through the portal. Time tried to cover his back, but he was quickly becoming outnumbered. 

“You have to hit them from behind!” Hyrule called as he fell into step beside Warriors. 

Warriors and Time both shot him a grateful glance, but they couldn’t take their eyes off the enemies for long. 

“Get through! We can’t fight here!” Time yelled. He grunted as he blocked a sword slash aimed for his throat. “Now!” 

Across the cave, Hyrule saw two darknuts raise spears. He tried to turn and warn the others, but Warriors grabbed him by the tunic and shoved him toward the portal. 

“Look-!” Hyrule called, just as the darknuts threw their spears. Hyrule fell backwards into the portal and the world swirled out of focus. For a moment there was nothingness, oppressive black and no sensations other than the feeling of being pulled apart. 

Abruptly, Hyrule was pushed back together and landed roughly on the ground. His eyes didn’t have the chance to bring the world into focus before there was a piercing, blinding pain in his abdomen. 

“-out,” Hyrule finished, shaky and gasping. He dropped his sword, hands going to the pain. He swallowed hard, and risked a glance down.

A spear was embedded in his stomach. Hyrule blinked at it for a moment, frozen and feeling so far away from his body. Then his legs gave out and he crashed to his knees. 

Hyrule cried out in pain as he hit the ground. He fell to the side, the world spinning somehow more than it had in the portal. There was noise all around him, but it only sounded like the crashing of waves. Against his will, Hyrule looked down at his stomach. His hands were already stained red, and his tunic was black with blood. It was dripping down the wood of the spear, down his wrist and his arm, pooling beneath his body. 

And it hurt. It hurt more than Hyrule could comprehend. It was like fire, burning through his chest, through his veins, stabbing his lungs and not allowing him to draw a breath. Tears gathered in his eyes, blurring his vision into a sea of red. 

The edges of his vision began to darken. Hyrule knew he shouldn’t give in, logically, of course he shouldn’t. But it hurt so much, and he didn’t know where the others were, and he was tired.

Just as he started to let his eyes fall shut, he was roughly shaken. Hyrule gasped, then choked on something thick in his throat. He tried to cough, but it jostled his body far too much, and the burning pain got so much worse. Adrenaline shot through him as he gasped for breath, and his vision cleared just enough to focus on Legend’s face. 

Legend had a smear of blood across his cheek and his eyes were blown wide. He was looking up, yelling something Hyrule couldn’t make out. Hyrule wasn’t sure he had ever seen Legend look so stressed. Legend looked back down at Hyrule, and met his eyes with a forced smile. 

“You’re gonna be okay, ‘Roolie, just hold on,” Legend said. Hyrule blinked up at him, barely comprehending the words. 

“Stay awake,” Legend said. His voice sounded so far away. 

Hyrule’s vision began to darken, and he felt his head loll to the side. Legend yelled something, then again, louder, and tapped his cheek, but Hyrule barely felt it. He felt his eyes slip closed, and let himself succumb to unconsciousness.

#whumptober2022 #no.24 #fight flight or freeze #blood covered hands #linked universe #fic #linkeduniverse #lu fic #linked universe fic #lu hyrule #tw: #graphic descriptions of violence #graphic descriptions of injury #blood loss #ace writes #this is not at all what I had planned for today #it just kind of happened #sorry Hyrule

[elven-child]

How do you know how to count in so many languages? I only have 3.

English is not my first language, so that's 2 from the start (i mean my native polish and then english), I learned some French in grade school in extracurricular classes, then in middle school, and I do it on duolingo now, I had German classes in high school, I have Spanish classes now in university (we have to take some language classes but most courses are A1 or A2 and it wouldn’t make sense to learn basic french for the third time so i chose something new), and I know how to count to ten in Japanese because I trained karate when I was 11 and still remember the numbers because our sensei always counted in Japanese when we were doing exercises

#it just kind of happened #ajsjdkxkxkc #lifbitch #ask

[dreemurr-skelememer]

Your "send me asks pls ask me things im sad and bored" post got a "Based on your likes!?" from tumblr to me

so hi, I'm alikat, I hope you're feeling better and not feeling bored anymore.

If you have one, what's your favorite undertale AU/OC, and what about it do you like so much?

hi!! nice to meet you :)

i have a very specific little guy and his name is ink and i have not been able to shut the fuck up about him for the past 4 years

#it just kind of happened #ive known about him since 2016 but 2018 is when my brain just decided 'its all about this guy now' #alikat-alley

[fuyuesu]

dramatica momoko kind of lives in my brain rentfree now . like shes good at disguises shes a great actor and knows how to dramatically change her appearance . theatre kids would be fucking Begging for her

#melty rambles #enstarsposting #metamorphosis #i like to think she never intended on joining dramatica in the first place #it just kind of happened #and she ended up being really fucking good at it

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

#almost wrote the champagne line as ''effervescent'' but legit could not write it without saying ''effervescent like a snail'' #ah tumblr... #writeblr #warm up #idk . having trouble writing rn #ps i don't like to talk about it . it is my medical information. but before you ask. yes this is about being on the spectrum #i really don't like when ppl make my writing about how im [whatever ID]. i want it to ring true for the people who it rings true for #i don't want it to be like ''awwwww look at this person!!! she's the EXCEPTION!!! :)" ..... #no.... not really..... #idk something gross happens whenever i admit to certain conditions and i turn into like inspiration p*rnography #like yes they actually let us use keyboards these days #furthermore i just... dont feel comfortable talking about this part of me. i had too bad of a childhood. adhd is one thing... #this one im like. still coming to terms with. which is like. my own journey. #idk. just please be kind. some things are more private than others. this one feels private to me. #i do not know how to help others w/this . and i do not know how to help myself. i will talk about it if im ever ready. idk if that will #actually ever happen #ty in advance i love u im kissing you we are kissing somewhere on the spectrum

[stuckinapril]

noticed a dip in posts about palestine on my dash, so i think it deserves to be said again: palestine is not a trend. caring about genocide is not a trend. there are still reports about humanitarian aid trucks intentionally blocked off from gaza, meaning so many fucking gazans, a big portion of them children, are just bleeding out with no help. it just came out recently that israelis disguised as women and medics infiltrated a west bank hospital, at which point they killed 3 palestinians (whom they claim were militants. right). these people are living day to day without even the most basic utilities. anyone who claims to have “activism fatigue” needs to question why they’re so severely lacking in the most basic forms of compassion. you don’t get to just grow bored of talking about palestine. please never stop calling attention to the genocide happening full force in front of us.

#it’s kind of crazy that the most active blogs i see talking about it rn are literal palestinians who had to go through such insane trauma #they shouldn’t be the only ones who continue being vocal about it #bisan absolutely did not announce the global strike to signal to ppl that they can just stop saying anything afterwards?? #i knew this would happen but i just didn’t expect it to happen so fast #please keep talking. #palestine #israel #gaza