#probably all next week actually | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skyward-floored · 1 year

Text

Breath of the Wild - oneshot

Another oneshot cross-posted from ao3 :) I love botw so so much, it holds a special place in my heart as one of my favorite games (I played it daily for more then two years straight, I was obsessed), and this was my little way of capturing some of my love for it.

Ao3 link

————————————————————

“Link, where are we going? You can’t keep me in the dark forever,” Zelda’s voice asked, trusting, but likely tired of the fact that she hadn’t been able to see for the past almost-hour.

Link smiled at the huff in her voice, before remembering she couldn’t see it due to the fact that her eyes were closed. She’d been wearing a loose blindfold on the trip here, but he trusted her enough not to peek now that they were close. In fact...

He gave her arm a light tap, and pulled her to a stop, looking out at where he’d brought her.

“Well, why don’t you see for yourself?” he asked, feeling his smile grow, “we’re here.”

Zelda opened her eyes, blinking a little to adjust, then let out a surprised oh!

Link had brought her to the shores of Lanayru Bay, the two of them standing only a few paces from the water. Waves lapped at the shore, wind softly whistling through the rocks, and the sky was perfectly clear above their heads, stars dazzlingly bright. It was the picture of calm, and Zelda looked around at the small beach, watching a crab scuttle by, admiring the stars, turning backwards to watch the fireflies in the grass behind them.

Link watched her with a smile, for once not too concerned about their surroundings.

He’d snuck over early that morning to clear out any and all monsters that might’ve returned since the last time he’d been here, endless lizalfos scattering the hills and lurking in the water. And while he still sported several dark colored bruises from the lynel that had been around as well, it had been completely worth it to see the look now on Zelda’s face.

Her smiles were always much too few and far between.

Zelda slipped off her shoes and toed closer to the water, and Link followed her, watching the way the breeze blew her golden hair.

“It’s beautiful out here Link, but I must ask... why this spot?” she questioned, and Link hummed.

“Do you remember when we were talking about what you could see while you were holding back the Calamity?” he asked quietly, and Zelda nodded, face falling just a little at the reminder of Ganon. “You... mentioned this was one of the places you wanted to visit sometime.” Link scratched his neck a little self-consciously as he spoke, but Zelda nodded, and he continued. “And when we were in Hateno, Purah told me the stars would be special tonight. I thought since we were already in Kakariko, it was a good time to come out here.”

“Oh the Loft meteor shower, I’d forgotten!” Zelda gasped, excitement shining in her eyes. “I suppose we’re right around it’s peak, aren’t we?”

Link tilted his head in a confused way at her, and Zelda smiled, wide and bright.

“A meteor shower Link, that’s what Purah meant. Oh this is wonderful, we’ll get a great view of it out here!”

Zelda hopped back out of the water, grabbing her shoes but not putting them on as she walked up into the grass and towards the hills.

“Come on, let’s find a good spot to watch!”

Link blinked, then quickly followed after her with a chuckle, jogging a little to catch up with her strides. Zelda soon found a spot she was happy with, and settled down onto the grass, eyes sparkling as a few streaks of light began to flicker across the sky.

Link settled in next to her, and they watched the stars in contented silence for a while, Zelda making a quiet noise of excitement whenever a particularly bright one streaked by.

As fascinating as the sky was, Link soon found his gaze slipping from the view above him to the girl he sat next to, her green eyes bright with starlight as she watched the meteors fall. She was sitting almost against him, their legs only a few inches apart, and the urge to close the distance and put an arm around her shoulders suddenly hit him like a guardian laser.

...Could he? Was he allowed to do that? Things were certainly different after a hundred years, but could he just do that?

Would she mind?

Mouth suddenly dry as he made up his mind, he swallowed, then inched closer to her, cautiously extending an arm. His fingers had almost touched her shoulder when Zelda suddenly let out a loud gasp, and he jumped at the noise.

Link grabbed at his sword in preparation for trouble, cheeks a bit pink, but he soon realized there was no threat. Zelda was still staring up at the sky, astonishment on her face as an extra-bright streak of light flew by, and Link perked up at the familiar sight. It streaked toward a nearby hillside, and Zelda continued to stare at where it had flown.

“Link, that looked like it hit the ground, I didn’t know— is that a light? Did it really land?” she gasped, and Link grinned at her and extended his hand.

“Why don’t you come see?”

She took it with an excited smile, and they trekked across the hillside, fireflies drifting out of their way. It didn’t take them long to reach the glowing site where the star fragment had landed, and Link kneeled down and picked up the perfectly formed crystal.

Zelda kneeled next to him and watched him hold it out to her, another small oh! escaping her lips at the sight of the glowing stone in his hands. The warm light from the crystal made her eyes sparkle as she looked down at it, her hair lighting up into liquid gold when she leaned closer, and Link found himself staring at her again as the gentle glow almost seemed to increase in proximity to her.

“Link, what is it?” she asked in fascination, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“A star fragment,” he said quietly, offering it out to her with a smile.

Zelda took it with an almost reverent hold, settling back onto her knees and admiring the crystal as she cradled it in her hands. Link felt a tingle go up his fingertips when he handed it over, his hands brushing Zelda’s, and felt warmth run up his arm at the point of contact.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, running a hand along one of its grooves. “Where do they come from?”

“I’m not completely sure,” he admitted, leaning back and looking up at the stars. “Somewhere in the sky I guess. There is a story that says they’re made of pure gratitude to Hylia...”

“A bit hard to prove I think,” Zelda hummed, gently turning it in her arms. “I’ll have to ask Purah, perhaps we could run some tests on it. Or perhaps Impa would know, she tends to be knowledgeable about things of this sort—”

Link couldn’t help but smile as Zelda slipped into her theorizing voice, excitedly studying and wondering what the smooth crystal in her hands could be.

Her words, soft but growing louder as she grew more excited, were music to his ears, her accented tones a soothing lilt in the breeze. The sound of it always calmed him, and he loved hearing her speak, even when she raised her voice in annoyance or anger, to a point.

It was the first thing he remembered, the thing that had woken him, guided him all throughout his journey, that had warned him of blood moons and directed his steps. The one scrap of familiarity he’d clung to in a strange world.

He truly could listen to her voice forever.

“Link?”

He met Zelda’s eyes, bright in the glow from the crystal, and tilted his head to indicate he was listening.

“Thank you for showing me this,” she said, voice full of gratitude. A soft look overtook her face as she glanced up at the sky again, and she smiled. “This is wonderful. I... I really needed this, I realize. I’ve barely had a moment to breathe since the Calamity, and everything lately has just been...”

Her voice fell, the smile slipping from her lips.

“It’s been truly... overwhelming,” she whispered, as if afraid to speak louder. “I’m realizing just how much we lost in the past century, and fixing it seems impossible. Not to mention being sealed in the castle for a hundred years...”

She sighed, and Link felt something ache in his chest at the exhaustion in it.

“It’s just left me so... disconnected from everything,” she whispered. “Sometimes I forget what it’s like, being a person and not just a force of light to hold back the darkness. To not have to focus and constantly resist, and feel as if one slip up would doom the world. Doing it for so long, even now that I’m out, sometimes I forget and I feel like I’m still... still in there. With him.”

A shudder ran through her, and Link ignored the old instinct that refused to bridge the gap between princess and knight, and slid closer to her, gently resting a hand on her arm.

Zelda swallowed, and held the crystal in her hands a little tighter.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this,” she whispered, and Link hated how miserable it sounded. “I’m sorry.”

“Zelda, I don’t mind, don’t— don’t apologize,” he said, quick to reassure her. He hesitated, then fully put his arm around her, keeping the hold loose so she could pull away if she wanted.

She didn’t though, and they both relaxed a bit, Link slipping closer.

“I like listening to you Zelda,” he continued, the glow of the crystal dancing between them. “Truly. Even if it’s just your worries. I just... wish I could do more to help you.”

“You help plenty Link,” Zelda replied, looking a bit better. “You brought me out here didn’t you? You knew I’d love seeing the stars tonight, and showed me the bay as well. And don’t think I didn’t notice the distinct lack of monsters around, you’ve done so much for me Link, not just tonight, and I truly appreciate it.”

Her smile returned, though it wasn’t quite as brilliant as before.

“Being out here, and seeing for myself that the fight was worth it, that through our efforts we preserved this,” she said with a wide gesture to the landscape and sky, “it helps remind me of what we’re working towards, and why Hyrule is worth not giving up on.”

She ran a hand along the crystal again, the light shimmering off her face as she looked up at the stars.

“And I can’t thank you enough for that,” Zelda said softly, meeting his eye.

Link’s mouth suddenly felt too dry to respond, but he managed a nod and a smile, and Zelda returned it as she leaned into his hold a bit more. Her head came to rest on his shoulder, and they both looked back up at the stars falling across the sky, leaving streaks like crystal rain in their wakes.

And with them, the star fragment in Zelda’s arms seemed to shine just a bit brighter.

#legend of zelda #breath of the wild #botw #loz botw #zelink #botw zelink #breath of the wild fanfic #legend of zelda fanfiction #writing from the floor #oh right this fits with this too:#courage of ages #coa Slate #woke up so sick with anxiety I barely ate breakfast so I’m trying to keep busy hahahahaha #I’m going to be a mess all weekend #probably all next week actually

56 notes · View notes

puppyeared · 7 months

Text

its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously

#I have an assignment that was due a week ago and I really really dont want to do it. I have to but i dont want to #im probably making it worse because my brain has built a wall around it so now i can’t do literally anything else until thats done. but #because I don’t want to do it I’m just kinda stuck. turns out this is what they meant when they said emotional regulation is part of #exec dysfunction.. I’ll have a thought like if I get a little bit of it done now i can get it over with. I can just submit something #and then not even 5 minutes later itll be like ugh but I have to draw all the assets out. I have to write things and make spreads ugh #and its just flopping between those two things. i hate it when ppl are like well how much time do you need to work on one thing #because BOY id love to know too. I’d love to know exactly when my brain wants to cooperate with me and work around that but I cant #even my period can’t decide when it wants to punch me in the stomach. which is kinda funny in the grand scheme of things but still #its so weird im just lying on my bed thinking abt all this like damn.. the time will pass anyways no matter what I decide to do.. damn….#if I submit that assignment now and take the L I literally won’t die. it’ll just be a deduction on an assignment nobody will ask me about #I know this but I’m still stressing myself about it so my thoughts aren’t really connecting to my body. weird #maybe its because Im having a hard time looking forward to things. theres definitely a lot I should be living for but I don’t really feel #a strong attachment to it I guess? it’s been like this for a while with holidays and meeting with friends so I just don’t #I kinda figured its because im pretty passionless and its more like passing interest. but it’s not very fun when it feels like I’m going to #be living distraction to distraction for the next 70 years or so lol #idk it kind of feels like slowly bleeding out. which is funny because I actually did experience blood loss this week #had a 30 minute nosebleed and literally could not stand. also it felt like someone was pinching the back of my brain which was interesting #yapping #does this count as vent #vent #Ive just been making an oc carrd and contemplate changing my blog header for the past 3 days honestly

169 notes · View notes

mango-peach-strawberry · 10 months

Text

You can do it!

#mango’s art #eyestrain tw #bright colors tw #kid icarus #Nintendo #decora #it’s been a rough week. earlier I doodled a sad pit. but I just want next week to be better so I decided I’d draw a little happy pit as a #good luck charm. so here’s to next week being a good one for all of us #this is a kind of redraw as two years ago I drew a decora pit but never posted him #I drew a couple decora pits actually. I’ll probably draw more soon. they’re so fun to draw!#so yeah. take care of yourselves guys ✌️

260 notes · View notes

osamusriceballs · 4 months

Text

The Accident - Part XVII

Atsumu x fem reader

Warnings: Making out

Words: 1,5 k

About: Back to Onigiri Miya <3

Part I II -> Next Part

"Finally. Took ya long enough."

Osamu rolls his eyes when you both enter the shop. You apologetically smile and wave while uttering a greeting. "Hey, Osamu. Sorry for being late." Atsumu grins widely, simply ignoring Osamu's comment while you both move to the counter, where Osamu is working. You notice that he looks a bit tired after moving closer, the bags under his eyes proof that he probably only slept a few hours before he had to open up the shop again. Yet, he still professionally forms Onigiri with his hands, everything looking as flawless and clean as the last time you had been there.

Osamu finally looks up to you both when you reach him and suddenly raises his brows when he sees how tightly your hand is held by Atsumu's. His mouth opens slightly, as if to comment on it, but he closes it silently without saying anything before he diverts his attention back to the Onigiri in his hands, now with a small smile adorning his lips. Your face warms up and you mentally thank every deity for making Osamu the more tactful and considerate twin. You're quite certain that Atsumu would have commented on that, if he had been in Osamu's place. Such a tease.

You clear your throat and let go of Atsumu's hand, but his grip around yours is so tight that it doesn't make any visible difference. "Samu, I'm starvin'—could eat the whole menu today. Gimme that please." Atsumu points towards the filled plate in front of Osamu, who just groans as a response and rolls his eyes. "Yer only here for five seconds and I already wanna kick ya out."

You blink in surprise when Osamu simply pushes the plate towards Atsumu and then turns around to open the fridge. "I prepared somethin' for ya. Take it before I change my mind." He hands you another plate with dishes that you remember from the last time you had been there, and you hastily pull your hand out of Atsumu's death grip to take it. "That's—amazing! Thank you." Your stomach clenches at the sight of the food, and you become painfully aware of the fact that you haven't eaten anything since last night, and it's around 4 pm at this point.

"I'll make sure to tag ya in an Instagram post, Samu." Atsumu grins and places one hand at the small of your back to direct you towards a free table. "Here." He quickly places his plate on the table and moves back to the counter. "I'll get us something to drink." You smile and nod while you try to calm yourself down. Your heart starts beating faster when you think about what has just happened with him in his apartment. How he had kissed you and held you. How he was laying on top of you and grinding against you- so needily and desperate. How your hands had been buried into his hair, desperate for him to deepen the kiss—and he did.

But it all came to an end when you had moaned against his lips, the sound so breathless and lewd that your eyes shot open—and he pulled away with a curse. "God, y/n. I can't—we shouldn't—gosh, fuck. I want you so badly." You could see his clenched jaw, his flushed cheeks, and feel the hardness in his pants without a doubt. You knew he wants to go further- but the wetness between your legs was also evidence of how much you wanted him, and you were quite certain that he could feel your warmth and wetness through his pants at this point. But you knew it's not right. Not now, not so shortly after all that.

You had taken a deep breath and then untangled your legs around his body. "It's probably for the best if we stop right now." You smiled a bit strained, your body wanting nothing more but to stay here forever and let him have his way with you, but your mind told you to slow down. You didn't want to ruin this by starting something like this too soon. He had simply nodded but still leaned down to press a longing kiss against your lips. You had melted into the feeling of his lips against yours and reached out for him, only to have him grab your wrists a little clumsily while he pulled back from the kiss and pinned your hands to the bed. Your eyes widened at your vulnerable position under him—and a throb of need rushed through your body.

His eyebrows shot up and his lips curled into a smug grin at your reaction. "Oh? Ya like that? Seems like we're in for a good time then." You swore you could have exploded any second, especially if he kept looking at you like that, and you simply released a shallow huff at his words. "Yer really testin' me here, wifey." He closed his eyes for a second and then pulled back. "Imma take a quick shower and then we can grab somethin' to eat at Samu's. Is that alright with ya?" You had simply nodded, too flustered to form words, and he pecked your cheek one last time before he headed to the bathroom.

After that, you wobbly made it to the other bathroom, quickly washing your face and getting dressed again, trying to distract yourself from the fact that you were this close to giving in and begging him to sleep with you. You have never felt like this with someone else; Atsumu just elicits feelings and actions from your body that you would never have thought were possible. He's a great kisser, and judging from the way he had been grinding his hips against yours, you were quite certain that he will be equally as good in bed. Your face had heated up again at the thought of sleeping with him, and you had quickly grabbed your stuff and go back to the bedroom. You both quickly took your things and made your way towards Onigiri Miya, but not without making out heavily in the elevator.

"Here ya go." Atsumu places two drinks on the table, and you get pulled out of your thoughts. You try to look calm and composed with a smile and thank him while he takes his seat, shortly admiring him in his simple, yet very attractive outfit. A white shirt and a pair of jeans—nothing special, but when Atsumu wears it, it just looks that appealing.

"Don't worry, these are alcohol-free. I'll stop drinking for a while for sure." He scratches the back of his head bashfully, and you laugh softly. "I figured so. But aren't you training like crazy now? Isn't it bad for you to drink anyway?"

A faint pink hue covers his cheeks at your words. "True that. I'm gonna stay away from alcohol for a long time." He shakes his head and then looks away. "Can't believe it's just a few more weeks till the Olympics. Time is running but- oh, let's start with the food already. Can't wait any longer, I'm sorry." He takes an Onigiri off his plate and eagerly digs in, and you're quick to join him, amused by his cute expression while he's chewing. He must have been starving for sure.

"I feel so much better already." He grins, and you nod while you eat a spoonful of your meal, enjoying the taste of fried rice. "Me too. I love Osamu's food." Atsumu nods and pretends to think for a second and then smugly grins. "Seems like yer fallin' for all the Miya's. We're a talented family after all."

"I'm not falling for all the Miyas!" You weakly protest, but the food could definitely make you consider Osamu as a possible partner. "Just kiddin'." He chuckles but suddenly yawns while he reaches for another Onigiri. "I'll drive ya home after that. I'm way too tired for anything more." He does look exhausted now. You don't know how he manages to even hold a proper conversation in his state, his eyes closing every few seconds before he almost violently pulls them open again.

"That's okay." You smile sympathetically and reach for your drink. He got your favorite, and you feel a sudden warmth running though your body at this realization. "I'm also exhausted after last night. But uhm..." You hesitantly fish for your phone and unlock it. "Do you maybe want to give me your new number?" You feel a faint blush creeping up your cheeks, but you're too afraid that you'll forget about it later- especially when he can barely keep his eyes open. "Oh? Sure." His eyes light up, and he quickly wipes his fingers on his tissue before he takes your phone. "Here ya go. I'll make sure to text ya every day."

"You don't have to text me every day." You snort but smile at the thought of always waking up to messages of Atsumu. "I will. Don't worry." Something about the way he says that makes you believe him, and break the intense eye contact when you take the phone with slightly shaky hands and look at the screen.

There it is, your new contact:

Husband

65 notes · View notes

stairset · 1 year

Text

I think the portrayal of Spider-Man 2099 in Across the Spider-Verse is in-character in that aside from like Shattered Dimensions he's always been portrayed as a bit of an asshole who slips into anti-hero territory at times and generally has a "needs of the many over the needs of the few" mindset and given his specific circumstances in the movie it's not unreasonable to think he could take the actions he does. However it does kinda suck that since like 99% of moviegoers had no idea who he was before the movie came out their first impression of him is when he's in an antagonistic role and people think "antagonist" and "villain" are synonyms so now I'm gonna have to listen to people who've never read a comic saying he's a villain or isn't a real Spider-Man for the rest of time or at least until he inevitably changes his mind in the third one.

#hell you don't even need to read a comic just look up a let's play of spider-man edge of time you'll get what i mean #but yeah i saw a post that was like #''the first movie had a joke about how spider-man doesn't wear a cape and miguel has a cape they did that to show he's not spider-man''#as if he hasn't had that cape since his creation 30 fucking years ago #he's not even the only spider-man to have one. spider-man unlimited is also a thing that exists.#even the first movie had that call-back joke where they see the peter from miles's universe had a suit with a cape #these movies have a lot of little details with deeper meanings but the cape thing just isn't one of them sorry #but yeah. play edge of time or find it on youtube it's good.#shattered dimensions is also good but miguel's personality in that game is closer to peter's for some reason #so edge of time is better for getting a feel of what he's usually like #but yeah i do think spider-verse miguel was probably more straightforwardly heroic like other versions before the whole dead family thing #and i think he and the rest of the spider society are just genuinely misguided about how the whole canon event thing works #cause like george and gwen don't die in every universe peter doesn't get the symbiote in every universe #even uncle ben doesn't die in every universe #but miguel THINKS those things always happen. that's why he got the others to believe it cause he genuinely believes it himself #and i think they all take comfort in the idea that these bad things that happen to them happen for a reason #i know that's josh keaton's interpretation for why spectacular peter joined and i don't disagree with it #that's also why i disagree with people saying that miles is The Only True Spider-Man There just cause he was the first to outright reject it #look me in the fucking eye and tell me spectacular peter and insomniac peter don't understand what it means to be spider-man #or actually don't cause i'll bitch slap you into next week if you do #miguel o'hara #marvel #shut up tristan

284 notes · View notes

drawsmaddy · 2 years

Text

[ID: A digital illustration of Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth, Maya Fey, Mia Fey and Dick Gumshoe from Ace Attorney. Phoenix and Edgeworth stand in the centre, back to back but looking over their shoulders to smile at each other. Maya leans around Phoenix, grinning at him and Mia stands behind Maya, smiling at her and Phoenix. Gumshoe stands behind Edgeworth, grinning with his eyes closed and looking a little sheepish. Behind them all is the courtroom and various pieces of evidence and items from the first Ace Attorney game fill the space around them along with confetti. In the middle, behind Phoenix and Edgeworth, are a defence attorney's badge and a prosecutor's badge. End description.]

Happy 21 years of Ace Attorney!!! (and 21 years of me in two weeks!)

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #maya fey #mia fey #dick gumshoe #my art #oh boy this took a while (rip to all the hours i spent on this that probably should have spent on uni work (-▽-''))#i had to limit myself to just the first game or i would've spent forever drawing everyone #sorry pearls franziska trucy apollo klavier and ema i love you so much #i suppose i could have fit ema in here because she is in the first game but oh well maybe next year #also yeah ace attorney came out exactly two weeks before i was born! can't believe this game is older than i am even if only by a tiny bit #actually i've seen nick's brick of a phone so i can believe it

739 notes · View notes

skrrtscree · 6 months

Text

'Happy' December 2nd and here's to DAY 7 of Ryomina Week 2023: Afterlife/Domestic

...Let's all pretend nothing bad happened today and that they get to be happy and together... :,))

#persona 3 #persona #p3 #ryomina #ryoji mochizuki #makoto yuki #minato arisato #persona 3 art #persona fanart #ryominaweek2023 #AND THATS ALL FOLKS #jesus christ i cant believe i actually did all 7 dyas on time😭😭#doing art for this week has challenged me alot.. for example ig i do backgrounds now😭😭#kind of got lazy near the edn when it came to rendering and i spent the least amount of timewith this but it still came out decent #ah.. what couldve been.. 🥲🥲#one last fact: koromaru was gonna be in this but uhh i cant draw dogs SORRY😭😭#ALRIGHT time to go into art hibernation for the rest of the year probably #its either see yall next year unless i decide to post some random doodles <3 #regardless thank you all!!

57 notes · View notes

oatbugs · 1 month

Text

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally

#on my friends living room floor they love together but one of them has been london for weeks or maybe months #to be with her love. im on a foam mattress from one of their beds next to a glass bottle of water opened by one of them #in a mug given to me by another. the weather felt like my childhood today and it also felt like 2 years ago.#(put space in the heavens Einstein's idea and hes your friend too so nothing to fear) around the table they drank and laughed and i thought #i hope you keep growing so full with the love you receive . i hope your appetite becomes insatiable from how used to it you are #and i know youre all leaving soon but i hope one day you miss this and that youll be happy you miss it #its worth missing i think #i thought he didnt care but he said after exams hes going walk around this area over and over #(this is near where he lived and where we visited almost daily for a year)#(hed come across the bridge on a lake)#we went where she used to live and at the entrance a fox sat calmly. it just yawned and stared.#it felt important somehow. i think maybe their impressions of me will never be close to how i feel inside but i think #i love them enough for that not to matter. i dont think theyll ever know this. i dont think if they did it would change much.#and seeing them smile makes my heart glow anyway. today i tried their malaysian tea the ginger burned my throat #they warmed my heart. hes going to canada soon and hes going to the US soon and shes going everywhere soon ill never understand #how were supposed to live with memories and with seperation and with the past but we do it anyway so i think it doesnt matter much #i wanted to write a poem for the lab rats with the fibre optic wires lit with blue forcing them to turn around and around #something about how im sorry that the two photon arrays burned the inside of your brain. im sorry about the sharp points of multielectrode #arrayes. im sorry about everything we do to you. she asked to see me tomorrow. im trying to have self control but i miss her so awfully #last night my friend talked to me and i updated on everything that happened with love and the lack of it and she just started laughing #and she told me about the same thing from her side. and she told me about how she loved london because she would walk the streets #and she felt like the people were her. and her eyes would go over the people and the bag of bagels and the construction men they probably #have a kid at home maybe shes a daughter. this kid is crying for her mother and the building you just walked past caused #blisters and pain and people died in it and very likely people were born in it. we talked for hours and i felt like #i was holding her hand just like that time she held mine watching a horror film. i love her so much #my friend is a genius and i remember her picking up the charms of my phone and staring at the leaf hanging from them. shes side stepping to #music drinking dangerous cider and cocktails from a movie and chit chatting with billionaires and undergrads #i love her dearly. his head covered in electrodes. she tells me about a syrian guy shes in love with and she says #what you feel and what i feel is like cocaine. ive tried a lot of fucking cocaine.#she says ive reminded her of what living actually feels like and to never put energy into someone who doesnt see me this way.

25 notes · View notes

the-holy-ghosted · 30 days

Note

*putting on a moustache and sunglasses*

So like what’s the deal with ghosted what’s that about

now see the deal with Ghosted is that it's not what happens within the events of the film that captivates me so much, though don't get me wrong i love this film to bits, but rather, it's the idea of what happens after the whole thing that makes me FUCKING NUTS

because the whole thing is relatively cut and dry in the sense that we don't have to guess about what happened before and we don't have to guess about how everybody is feeling in the present. we know (MOST) important characters backgrounds and what they're doing at Falkhill and slowly revealing Paul's context was pretty interesting if not a little abrupt at the end there but its the very last scene of this film down to the very frame that flips the whole hour and a half you just watched over on its head and prevents me from getting a good night's sleep because i can't stop thinking about it

ELABORATING WITH A LOT OF SPOILERS UNDER THIS

explaining the plot of this movie is hard without sounding like im writing a pretentious review and not just talking out of my ass on tumblr but for my followers who haven't watched this movie and dont care enough to: Ghosted (2011) is set in a british prison in which Jack (John Lynch) is a long time prisoner who's wife just dumped him apparently on the anniversary of their sons death (tough break) and is being advised by his friend and cellmate Ahmed (Art Malik) (who does NOT get HALF as much screen-time or plot relevance as he DESERVES,) to find something to put his mind to and be proud of outside of his failures Paul (Martin Compston) is a prisoner who was just transferred out of a Young Offenders prison AS FAR AS WE'RE TOLD... though its noticeable from the beginning that hes not a very good liar and his story is suspicious at best Clay (Craig Parkinson) is kindof The Guy of their prison wing whos dealing drugs to other prisoners and assumes the position of authority over everybody else, though compared to other inmates with bigger cliques, his foundations are shaky. the description of this film on letterboxd calls him "the wing beast" and i have never cried laughing so hard reading something in my life

Clay and Jack both hone in on Paul immediately for different reasons. Jack, after his pep talk with Ahmed, sees Paul as a source of "a little self belief, something to be proud of", but Clay scoops him under his wing for being relatively young and impressionable. This puts Jack and Clay at odds with each other. after some plot, Paul gets into very big trouble with Clay and after An Incident is promptly plopped into Jacks hands, who had requested Paul move into his cell earlier but didn't have a good enough excuse for it. Well You've Got A Bloody Good Reason Now ect ect

Jack and Paul buddy up immediately and its noticable that Paul is sort of filling in the empty space where a son would be for Jack, however we discover that Paul has been lying about his past to everybody, including Jack. he lied about his family and he lied about having only just been transferred from Y.O. and hadn't been telling the whole truth about his sentence. what the truth ends up being, in a nutshell, is that Paul is accidentally responsible for the death of Jack's son, having been the one who started the house fire he died in (we were never even told that Jack's son died in a house fire before this, we are only told this in Paul's flashback at the end of the movie and are supposed to act, like, surprised?? whatever). consequentially, Jack flips his lid and prompts my personal favorite scene in this film in which he beats the living shit out of Paul with his bare hands and immediately regrets it the second the adrenaline wears off, hitting an alarm button within the cell that alerts the guards.

the guards whisk him away and he is put in solitary confinement, which we find out was actually the first sequence of the film where hes shown with an absurdly long beard, and considering every other fucking scene he's in is of him shaving his face, i assume this is to show just how long he's been kept in solitary confinement, which quite honestly was kindof exciting to realize at the end of the film.

and then. the end scene.

after solitary, Jack is put in cuffs and brought to see Paul who looked Extremely Dead after Jack had him, but hes not dead! just almost dead. Jack is sat next to him and tries to apologize but starts to cry, reaching out a hand to hold Paul's but retracting it regretfully. Paul, having looked unconscious not five seconds before, moves his hand to place it over Jack's...

and then the movie ends. and i am left writhing on my floor in anguish BUT NOT BEFORE I EXPLAIN TO YOU THAT THIS

THIS is what the deal is with Ghosted

the pathetic gestures of "im sorry" and "its okay" are what kill me. sorry is nowhere near enough to justify anything that EITHER of them did, NOR should they be forgiven. AND YET.

and what gets my gears going is the thought of what everything looks like AFTER this scene. after they've bonded so close and after Jack already thought that Paul stopped lying to him, thinking that he could protect Paul from Clay now... after they started to fill the spaces for people they were missing in their lives... and after they've RUINED each others lives. They Have Ruined Each Others Lives and yet Paul probably would have had to DELIBERATELY ASK for them to bring Jack to see him because he just BEAT Paul within an INCH of his life and would NOT !! have brought Jack to see him upon Jack's own request!! Paul would have wanted to see him too!! after all this what does their relationship look like now... the image of father and son has been all but shattered in each other's eyes, one can assume, but are they still close... does the guilt and responsibility drift them apart or does it pull them inseparably together? Ahmed tells Jack that "there is no such thing as coincidence, only fate" but what does their fate look like... does it end here or does it mean that they're together indefinitely? the end of this film swings the door wide open and i think about it. way too often. unacceptably often, even.

all in all theres no reason that this should be my favorite film but it is. if nothing else it's made me look into the other actors involved and branch out with a to-watch list as long as my arm that will only get longer once i branch out from there. is it the perfect movie? no this film is mediocre at best. have i made a number of my friends sit down and watch it and listen to me yell incoherently about it? of course i have.

#the heron speaketh #ghosted (2011)#aheem heem whimper #john lynch #martin compston #craig parkinson #art malik #i dont know if art has much of a tag on tumblr but he gets a tag on this post #i wish ahmed was more relevant in this movie. sighs pitifully #ANYWAYS this ask has been sitting in my inbox for a couple weeks now and ive been slowly picking at it but NEOW im ready to post it #i should probably post this before i post the fanart/screenshot redraws i have sitting in my files anyways. only makes sense #i left out a lot of plot mind you just to get this out in a reasonable sized post. theres a lot of good stuff in here #“well theres all this but heron whats your url mean-” ill talk about that in a minute give me a minute #erin and i watched ghosted together on new years eve this year DRUNK off our asses and it has never left my mind since #i still have the empty bottle of captain morgan from that night too actually. for sentimental reasons. i was very hungover the next day #worth itttt #alright i have other shit to do im posting this and leaving gootbye

24 notes · View notes

mid-nightowl · 8 months

Text

untitled lil fic #1 (jason todd and gotham war)

here's some gotham war rewrites i needed to get out of my head, the brainrot was killing me omg

warnings for violence, cursing, whatever the hell Bruce is doing (just Bruce as a full warning tag, the man is more unhinged than Joker in this)

---

“Oh Jason. How I’ve missed you, my sweet boy.”

The words are sickeningly sweet, poison-saturated words falling from bloody red lips. Delivered with a crooked smile, Joker looks up at him, uncaring at his position. His fingers curl in the clown’s suit collar, lips curling with a snarl.

Jason punches him again, the clown’s jaw cracking and his body straining against the ferry railing. Joker merely giggles, head lolling around through the air before his mismatched eyes meet his mask.

“Shut the fuck up!” He snaps, unholstering his gun and digging the muzzle into Joker’s cheek.

His murderer raises his hands, waggling his fingers in surrender, grinning and smirking and smiling.

He hates it, he hates it, he hates it.

“I want you to think about this real carefully,” He digs his gun into his skin. “This could be the last joke you ever make, you understand? That’s what you want to go with?”

“You know,” His nightmare giggles, chuckles like a wind-up toy before he wipes the amusement off his face. The clown looks up at him, head tilted, pleased and patient and thoughtful. There’s not a single sliver of hate and destructive menace, or anger or disappointment or suspicion.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, he thinks. There’s something wrong here. There’s something wrong with Joker—and not in the usual way.

“The best jokes deliver a difficult truth, but hide it with a fun fiction,” Joker explains, smushed but coherent words strung together despite the gun halfway in his mouth. “Without humor all we have left is being mean and lying.”

“What?” He can’t stop the words before they stumble out of his mouth. He doesn’t let the gun go lax in his hand despite the way the clown’s words throw him off guard.

Off-kilter is a genuine feeling that digs into him, shocking him to the core. The clown does this, he knows it. He knows this is how he does things, how he worms his way out of every situation and every attempted manslaughter, he knows how the clown operates, intimately.

Jason knows him.

Joker, historically, has been so many things. But he’s always been a psychotic, impulsive mass-murderer. Someone without restraint, without limitation.

It’s why he’s always been Batman’s true nemesis. Bruce, he needs a fine-tuned control of everything and everyone. He is someone who has limits and restraint.

Controlled, focused, and without limitations—Jason is almost the happy medium to both of them.

Almost.

The three of them are similar, different, opposites and identical. It’s like walking in one of those mirror mazes where you can’t tell who the real you is.

Who is the real Bruce Wayne? The man who cherishes his children or the one who maims them?

Who is the real Joker? The cold, purposeful mass murderer or the dumped-in-acid man who can’t tell the difference?

Who is the real Jason Todd? The bloody crime lord or the declawed crowbar wielding vigilante?

Joker simply smiles and pats his arm, as if Jason’s not trying to kill him.

He slams the clown against the railing again, snarling.

“Enough games!” He growls and flips the safety off. The noise doesn’t even phase Joker, if anything he grins harder. His mismatched eyes—one red-brown, one green—flick above them before returning to his.

“Are you really going to use that big bad gun of yours with Daddy watching? He’ll be so mad at you.” His murderer grins, letting his head hang limply in his grasp.

“What? Batman-!” He jerks back, head snapping up to the ferry roof cover.

Empty. No looming monster demanding a painful compromise is here.

Joker’s hands push him back, and he grunts, stumbling into the ferry wall. The clown tumbles over the railing, disappearing from view. His laughter haunting the air.

“No!” He shouts, dashing to the railing.

The clown is gone under the waves and ice, sinking into the dark of Gotham Harbor.

He’s not dead. He can’t be dead, Jason thinks, gripping the ice-cold railing, I haven’t killed him yet.

He’s not dead.

But that was mean.

The last words Jason hears remind him of his grave.

No, not the one he was buried in. Six feet of dirt above him and smothered in satin, watched over by that stupid weeping angel.

There’s a memorial in the cave with his name. ‘Good soldier’ and nothing else but his name. Both of them: Jason Todd and Robin.

A monument to Bruce’s failure, his greatest mistake, a grave to his complicated teenage years, his love.

“You’ve always been a good soldier. Rest now.” Bruce told him, jabbing him in the neck with the needle.

A grave, a memorial, a monument. It makes him sick. The reminder that he will always be the dead Robin, the sad Robin, the angry Robin.

Dead, dead, dead.

The violence done to him, inflicted and imprinted into his skin and bones was more important. The guilt and the lesson were more important than his cries for justice, for his life’s blood.

The monument and altar, raised after his murder, were never for him, but for Bruce.

He was dead, why would he care?

The story Bruce will tell would never be the truth, just excuses and wrong-doings. He would take accountability after the fact, but not before.

Bruce would let his murderer walk and let him rot.

Maybe that was why he buried Jason six feet under, so he wouldn’t have to face the decay and decomposition. That he could keep this golden, blurry image of him as Robin, as the straight A student, the good son. And not a weightless body splinted a thousand different ways to look human.

But now that he’s resurrected—not in Bruce’s image, but as something broken and jagged, something lost and filled with dirt and green-green-green—Bruce refuses to acknowledge him. Refuses to believe this is who he is.

Refuses to believe that he remade (destroyed) himself from the ruins, from the broken bones and empty veins and black thread that mended his corpse back into the image of Jason Todd. Refuse to think that if a girl can come back as a soothsayer, that a boy can come back as a gun.

“Hnnng…Bruce,” Jason groans softly, heaving himself off the couch.

Batman turns to him, looming with his face mask in his hands. The fluorescent lights, a nauseous lime-yellow, cut over his figure, his face, his mask. Almost a green-green-green, almost a pool of rage, almost a pit of madness.

His mask crackles alive in Bruce’s hands, Selina’s voice wavering between annoyance and worry.

“Red Hood? Hood, please check in and let me kno-” Batman clicks his comm off.

The resounding silence smothers him.

His exhale comes out shaky, his heart beating too fast behind his bruised ribs, a chill crawling over his exposed skin.

Something’s wrong. Something is very wrong.

“...Batman? You…” He swallows roughly, mouth filled with dirt and blood and thread. “Wha…What did you do?”

“Nothing I’m proud of, Jason.”

His heart sinks and skips a beat at the same time, stomach twisting with anxiety and fingers trembling against the ugly brown couch cushions.

Inhale.

He pushed too much.

Taking Selina’s side?

He went too far.

Hood didn’t kill anyone?

Exhale.

“Hh! Ho…” Jason croaks, getting his boots on the ground. “Y-you…you..”

“Take deep breaths, Jason.” Batman turns back to the computer hub glowing behind him, ignoring his attempts to speak, to demand answers.

His arms shake as he holds himself upright, but when he tries to stand instead he chokes, falling to his knees in front of the couch. Gasping for air, he lays his palms flat against the cool tiles. His legs are quivering, heavy and unable to hold his weight.

His whole body trembles with it, this feeling unfolding through his blood and bones, engulfing his head and voice.

Fear, fear, fear.

“Years ago I created my backup personality, Zur, using techniques I learned from an old mentor and this machine that I built,” Batman starts, monitoring the screens in front of him with one hand on the keyboard and the other on his belt.

Bruce doesn’t turn to look at him, to face him, someone he calls son, someone he considers family, and explain what he’s done to Jason.

He never has.

“I can’t change your personality with it, Jason…” Batman sighs, low and quiet. “But I can add to it. A small thing: your failsafe.”

Failsafe. He slams the heel of his palm on the floor, cheeks tingling with his telltale sign of tears. A failsafe?!

Because Red Hood needs a failsafe instead of justice.

“What?!” He tries to snarl, to hiss and yell and scream his rage. But his voice fails him, anxiety chewing at his throat and tongue, voice tilting too high, too unsteady, too weak.

“Now when you have heightened adrenaline, when you’re about to do something dangerous, your fear kicks in,” Batman continues explaining. “It…I’m sorry Jason. But it’s the only way.” He clenches his eyes shut—inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale—and tries to ignore his rabbit heart battering against its cage, pounding to the frantic rhythm of fear, fear, fear.

“I love you.”

The words feel like gunshots, the knuckle prints on his skin after the two of them fought over Penguin, the smack of Selina’s whip against his fingers, the crowbar on his skull, his legs, his ribs, over and over and over.

“I love you, but you are a murderer,” Bruce condemns him, over and over again. “You’re a bull in a china shop and I go round after round with you, trying to figure out how to help make you a better man, to heal you.”

“H-heal me?” He whispers, rage cut off at the roots. “This isn’t…this isn’t you, Bruce.”

Batman, finally, turns to Jason. He looms, tall and foreboding, darkness dripping around him, drenching him in fear, fear, fear.

Batman takes a step forward and he crashes back against the couch, spine digging into the wooden frame painfully.

He can’t breathe. Batman moves and he knows it in his bones, knows it down to the scars Gotham and its guardian have left on him, that he’s not here to save him, to help him.

“I got you a new identity. A place in Metropolis.” Batman keeps walking forward, despite Jason’s growing hyperventilation, despite the way his blunted nails scratch at the floor. Despite the way he shakes, black stitches snapping apart, the pieces of him falling to the floor of this slaughterhouse, at the feet of his butcher.

“B-bat…Batman,” He whimpers, hand twisting into the fabric of his suit.

“You can live a normal life. Fall in love, do meaningful work. This isn’t punishment, Jason,” Batman kneels in front of him and removes the cowl. “I love you.” Jason shrinks back, shoulders back and legs curled to his chest. Bruce’s face is sharp and pale, with bags under his eyes and days old stubble on his jaw.

His eyes are dark with absolute rage.

Batman is going to hurt him. Batman is going to hurt him.

Bruce is going to hurt him again.

“This is a gift. Any way you look at it, you should be in prison for all the people you’ve killed,” He chokes at Bruce’s words, barely smothering the terrified cry in his throat. “This is me saving you from that. Save you from yourself.”

Jason can only stare at the man before him—the man who took him in, who raised and trained him, who loved him—does his best to bury him.

fear, fear, fear.

“Please..don’t…please,” Jason pleads, covering the girl with his frame, caging her in with his bruised and burnt arms.

“Let’s begin.” Scarecrow’s voice reverberates, it shakes through air to match his erratic breathing.

“P-please, I’ll do anything you want, anything,” He begs, fear, fear, fear burning in his veins. “Please. Just stay…stay away.”

Scarecrow closes the gap between them, rocking back and forth on his crooked, long legs. His mask distorts and mutates, a familiar green-green-green splashing over the darkened void of his gas mask.

“You’re going to die tonight. I know you know this,” Crane looms over him, green-green-green trickling out his eyes, gushing out like an open wound. “But we can still have fun, can’t we.”

The girl trembles underneath his chest and Jason tries to smother the whimper begging to pour out his lips. It’s gnawing at him—rabbit heart frantic in his chest, hands trembling from the burning pain and anxiety, smoke and ash gathering in his lungs—fear, fear, fear.

He can’t think of anything else.

“Those fools were right. Your terror…it’s real and it isn’t mine,” Scarecrow sneers, kneeling in front of him. “There is no thrill in driving terror into the heart of a baby bird.”

Scarecrow takes his jaw in his hand, needles tickling at his exposed skin, forcing Jason to look at him. He can’t help but jerk his head at Crane’s touch, needles pricking into his cheek when Crane holds him tighter, another inescapable cage around him.

His chest heaves with every shaky inhale-exhale, his anxious fear fanning over the rogue’s mask. Scarecrow leans in closer, the glass over his eyes gleaming, reflecting the fire roaring around them. Jason can hear the screams in them, watching the shadows morph around them and the straw on Crane’s shoulders wiggle.

“This is my moment of triumph, and it is snatched away from me by..by him?!” Scarecrow shakes Jason’s head in his hand, needles scratching into his skin but still not drawing blood.

Scarecrow lets his head drop, needles disappearing from his sight before they’re clawing at his throat, wet and cold against his clammy skin. Jason whimpers and clenches his eyes shut, unable to do anything but beg.

He knows praying for someone to help him is futile.

No one is coming to save him.

“Never let it be said Scarecrow has no pity,” Crane says, voice cutting in and out his head like radio static. “I will quickly finish what your daddy started.”

“Doesn’t mommy get a say?”

A voice slices through the flames licking at his skin and the fear smothering him. And when Jason’s gaze finds him, he can’t help the tears.

“Step away from the vigilante, pervert.” Joker grins, dark red lips stretched too wide, too thin. Ash rains down on his green-green-green umbrella, rolling down the crooked dark patches and shamrock-colored nylon.

“You’ve already killed him once. It’s time you learned to share, Clown.” Scarecrows speaks with thin, razor-sharp disdain, glaring over his shoulder at the newcomer.

“You should know this by now, Doc. I don’t play well with others.” The clown throws aside the umbrella, knife materializing from thin air as he descends upon Scarecrow.

“You’re not even really him, are you? Do you think I don’t know about you? Delusions and megalomania with-” Scarecrow baits and taunts the clown, before the two of them are ducking and weaving and slicing at each other with barely concealed rage and annoyance.

“Blah, blah, blah. Do you know why you’re always going to be a C-List villain, Johnny?” Joker jokes and Jason can imagine the sharp grin on his face. “Because doctors aren’t scary. They’re annoying.”

He ducks his head down and curls tighter around the girl. She cries underneath him, hiccups soft under the roar of flames closing in on them, the screech of metal on metal and creaking of deteriorating wood.

He can’t move. He can’t do anything but try to breathe. But all he tastes is smoke, choking him, billowing down his throat and in his lungs. His heartbeat is so loud, jumping under its bone-cage, a heady, heavy thing—badump-badump-badump-badump. It’s too fast, erratic, out of control.

“You’re a bull in a china shop and I go round after round with you, trying to figure out how to help make you a better man, to heal you-”

Always out of control. Jason whines, hands scrambling against the wood below him. It burns, seering through his fingertips. It hurts-it hurts-it hurts, he can’t do this. He can’t.

He can’t breathe.

“Ahhhh! Ack! Achhhhh!” Scarecrow screams, guttural and wobbly and when he looks up, Jason can only watch as Crane crashes through the fifth story window.

Tears continue to stream down his face, his heart trembling in his chest and the realization strikes him then, cracking down on his skull like a crowbar, over and over and over.

Joker saved him. Joker saved him. Joker saved him.

His murderer saved him.

“A-are you real?!” Jason cries out, fingers curling into the withering floorboards. “Is this real?!”

“Oh, don’t worry about him. I didn’t even give him a real dose of Joker Gas. I ran out. Heh!” Joker laughs, rubbing at his jaw. Blood and green-green-green stain the edges of his mouth, smeared down his chin and throat before disappearing under the orange sweatshirt he’s wearing.

“But now, it’s just you and me. And…your daughter? Did you have a daughter and not tell me?” The clown tilts his head in question, tucking away the green-green-green gun in his hand. He steps closer, uncaring of the flames licking over his pale skin.

Jason can’t tell if it's real or an illusion, can’t tell if his murderer is here and saving? rescuing? tricking? him. He can’t tell if this is just another nightmare he’s trapped himself in, or if this is the real punishment Bruce promised him.

“She’s just a kid. Please…don’t,” He pleads, the tears searing down his ash-stained cheeks.

Joker leans down, bringing his face close to Jason’s. His mismatched eyes—one green, one red-brown—bore into his and the clown smiles, too wide, too cracked and broken, too bloody and green-green-green.

He sobs, cracking under everything. He can’t do this, he can’t.

“My, my. Even like this you still think you’re the hero. Batman would be proud if he didn’t hate you,” His murderer says, before his bony hand is cupping Jason’s face, calloused fingers dancing over his skin.

Jason clenches his jaw when it threatens to wobble and tremble, but knows the fear is shining in his eyes. Knows the clown can see it, knows he recognizes it in his baby-blues. He’s been here before.

They’ve been here before, together.

“But don’t worry my sweet boy, I’ll find a way to fix you. Nobody is going to hurt you. I won’t let them. Because I need you.” His voice is honeyed and threatening, curling and clawing and cloying into his head like a sickness. Joker pets his hair, gentle and caring, and Jason knows he means it.

He’s going to fix him. He’s going to heal him.

He’s going to save Jason.

“Don’t worry, sweet boy. We’ll see each other soon,” Joker pats his cheek with a crooked green-green-green smile. “I promise.”

His heart beats frantic to the words—fear, fear, fear—eyes unable to look away from Joker.

Jason believes him.

#unholy screeching and too much caffeine #my writing #the brainrot was literally killing me i wish i was joking #havent been able to FOCUS on anything else #i just cant get over divorced batjokes playing tug-of-war with their murderous and highly traumatized kid (jason)#im not entirely sure if i like this? it feels very rough draft to me #but i really just needed to get it down and out of my head so i can focus on my other wips T-T #would also love to hear anyone's thoughts if they have any<3 #might have missed some grammar stuff and yadda yadda but im kind of tired of looking at this:))))#i do think i want to add to it thou--maybe a scene with selina another with the batkids #ill probably come back to this after the final issue for the actual event (which comes out next week!) and joker's comic #i just really wanted to write how jason was dealing with all this; how he might take the fact that joker is saving his ass rather than bruc #but im not sure if it came across the way i wanted it to??#jason todd #jason todd and bruce wayne #jason todd and joker #writing

43 notes · View notes