Feb 14, 2025
rhett too good with it goddamn 😩
- #house of the dragon
#hotd#helaena targaryen#daeron targaryen#daemon targaryen#aemond targaryen
- #ted lasso
#x men 97- #zutara
#f1- #cottagecore
- #dan and phil
- #bugs
#hotd#helaena targaryen#daeron targaryen#daemon targaryen#aemond targaryen
seen from Sweden
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seen from Italy
seen from Syria
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rhett too good with it goddamn 😩
I wrote a thing about what might've happened after this.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Working on something 👀
Is the rhink fandom on ao3 even alive 🤡
Fortune Favours the Bold
Rhett x Link fanfiction
Synopsis
Today’s more is a classic one: Ranking different fortune tellers. It’s an easy way to generate some fun commentary all while promoting a new product, the viewers eat it up.
The first few fortune tellers are mildly disappointing: a lucky cat that hardly works, a Darth Vader which refuses to give a straight answer, and a stress ball with predictable outcomes. None of them are a patch on the mythical fortune teller - thank god.
Then came the fish. A classic novelty toy we’ve all seen before in Christmas crackers or joke shops. Writhing around on Rhett’s hand - it works as expected - yet the truths it reveals are anything but.
It hurts to touch him.
His skin sizzles like butter on a hot pan and Rhett gasps, not from the pain, although that too is sudden and intense, but from the soft smoothness of the angel’s skin. Rhett snatches his hand away, watching in horror as a scarlet afterimage of his fingers rises onto the milky white skin of Link’s arm.
An apology. Hushed one, with pleading eyes and the thud-thud-thudding of Rhett’s heart that Link can hear as clearly as his words. Link shakes his head, the golden leaves of his laurels making a faint tinkling sound that always follows him around. He steps closer, his gaze determined, reaching for the demon in front of him.
Rhett takes a step back, now pleading with his words. He doesn’t want to hurt Link. Never wants to cause him pain. Never wants to see those sweet eyes flash with agony. Link huffs, his wings fluttering in annoyance. He can decide for himself. He’s old enough, nearly a millenia old, no longer a babe in the heavens. He’s seen the earth. He’s seen the humans. He’s seen the need and where it leads. To entangled bodies and lush moans and ecstasy so potent it has the ability to create life.
Rhett’s blood surges in his veins, rushing into his head, making him dizzy; rushing elsewhere and making him feel light and heavy all at the same time. He watches Link talk about the debauchery of the souls below them. Watches Link’s plump lips move. Rhett wants to bite them. Gnaw and chew and taste. Wants to nibble and suck and lick until he’s breathless and Link is whimpering in his arms.
His arms. Rhett pauses. Closes his eyes, the only way to stop himself from staring at the creature in front of him. Unlike Link’s, Rhett’s arms are rough—gnarled and wrinkled, covered in old scars and fresh scabbed-over wounds. His arms are molten. They’re not a place for a being as pure as Link. The devil’s arms are meant for hurting, not loving.
Rhett’s eyes fly open. His face is on fire. He’d scream, but his breath has been stolen by the icy-blue eyes peering at him. So close. Too close. Link’s hands cradle Rhett’s face, skin to skin, palm to cheek. They burn together. Rhett can smell it. A hint of sulfuric ash mixed with the scent of summer rain turning into a thunderstorm.
Rhett tries to back away, tries to save Link from himself, from this twisted thing they have been dancing around for centuries. But he can’t. He can’t, because Link’s lips are closing in and Rhett can do nothing else but surrender to their heat. Just once, he thinks. One time and then no more. A taste. It’s all he needs. All he deserves.
A mosaic of groans and whines. Pain and pleasure. Good and evil entwining, burning, destroying, creating, thriving. Rhett can’t breathe. He only knows need and love and desire. He devours Link’s mouth, tasting the divine within him. The air crackles between them, angry and awed. The wind whips around them, horrified and delighted.
A gap forms between their aching lips. Link pants, begs for more, begs for more skin, more kisses, more debauchery. The devil has never before blushed. Everything in Rhett spins and tilts and twirls. He aches for Link. Aches for something that can’t happen.
“We can’t. It hurts to touch you,” he finally whispers, with a sob so heart-wrenching the world breaks below them.
Link looks at him and smiles with a sad tilt of his lips.
“But it hurts more not to.”
writing patterns
Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!
i was tagged by @lilac-hecox <33
“Woow.” Ian is standing in the doorway, looking at him with the silliest little grin on his face.
-Little Shorts [Ian x Anthony]
2. “Dude, Ian, there’s a gun in your room. Like, a real, working shotgun.”
-Pump-action [Ian x Anthony]
3. He blurts it out, out of nowhere.
-Never Had The Chance [Percy (Grip Guys) x Reader]
4. Eventually, Ian has to bury the body.
-Awake, again [Ian x Anthony]
5. You call him Percy, because everyone does.
-Zipper Burn [Percy (Grip Guys x Reader]
6. hey d00d,
-o-ed [Ian x Claus Winklestein]
7. “Look at you. Such a pretty thing.”
-Getting a Reaction [Rhett x Ian]
8. The night wind in Los Angeles is just starting to pick up, pulling smoke from the blunt in Anthony’s hand.
-It's a bad idea (and I’m all about it) [Ian x Anthony]
9. The first time it happens, its been about a week since they bought back Smosh.
-Clingy [Ian x Anthony]
10. “Listen to this. Here, listen. Listen close.”
-Call it a Night [Rhett x Link]
I love to start with some dialogue but I feel like its pretty all over the place in terms of sentence length and stuff ahah. I'm pretty happy with them tho c:
I've been struggling with really bad writer's block since like November basically, I'm really hoping I can get back to it soon because I have a couple of in-progress fics and a billion WIPs I want to get finished!
tagging @boxxedsmosher05, @artfinderartist, @redcanvas4, @polygonalpadilla, @midcenturyprometheus
For the WIP Game! 4. Relax, I’ll take care of it
Some snippets from one of my wips for the WIP Game!! 😈😈
[Hey! You! This post has now been expanded into a fic called “The Boy in the Woods.” Please enjoy. Thank you.]
I keep thinking about the best friend haul, and Rhett saying it was "found near a creek in 1984," and the supernatural Link theme, and it's giving me Bridge to Terabithia vibes like what if instead of meeting in first grade Rhett actually went wandering in the woods at age seven and found this shaggy-haired boy-thing by a creek and ran back home and brought it his old sneakers and clothes, and showed it his wrestling action figures, and taught it to speak. Its name is Link. Imagine the first time he introduced it to bubblegum, and fresh popped popcorn, and Twinkies. It lives almost exclusively on a diet of Reese's peanut butter cups. Imagine the first time Rhett gives it a haircut, and brushes its hair back from its face, and its proud little smile when Rhett says it looks handsome. Rhett brings it a coloring book full of mythical beasts from school, and somehow it already knows all the animals. There are things that live in the forest that it is afraid of. Rhett has never seen them, doesn't even know if they're real, but it draws their pictures over and over. To make them seem less scary, Rhett names them The Randler -- for R and L, Rhett and Link, he shows Link when he's teaching him how to write.
Everyone thinks Rhett has an imaginary friend till he's way older than he should, till Rhett actually starts bringing Link around, telling people he's from a different town, he goes to a different school. Link always says something weird, doesn't really get the whole people thing at first, but Rhett covers for him. They spend every day together. The boy grows almost as tall as he does.
It almost kills Rhett when he graduates high school and realizes he's going to have to move away from the boy in the woods. Freshman year, at least the days he can't sneak Link into the dorm, is hell. So he comes up with a plan: They'll get an apartment. They'll get Link a job. Link starts doing Rhett's homework with him, and it turns out Link is brilliant. He can play a bunch of instruments -- the trumpet, the shruti box, he even makes the recorder sound good. There is a pit of guilt in Rhett's stomach that he never thought about Link needing to go to school.
So he makes up a fake diploma, some fake credentials, and he gets Link enrolled in college with him. They go to a frat party for the first time together, shotgun their first beers. Link is a total lightweight, he falls in love when he's tipsy and cries when he's drunk. Rhett has to wrap him up tight in his comforter when they get home. Their apartment comes with a battered old set of pots and pans left behind by the last roommates, and Rhett learns to cook while Link watches. Link mostly learns to use the microwave. Link can take twice the courseload, finishes in half the time, so they can graduate together. They make a plan to move to a bigger city. They go on double-dates together, and Link even starts to like a girl. Rhett feels a pit of something else in his stomach he doesn't know how to name.
Everything is going great, Rhett thinks, everything is going according to plan. But some nights he wakes up and peeks into Link's room and Link isn't there. The first times it happens, Rhett calls his name in a whisper, looks around the whole apartment and turns on all the lights, but he can't find him. In the morning Link is back in the kitchen eating cereal, where he should be.
The next few times Link disappears, Rhett goes further than the apartment, out into the dark, walking around their neighborhood with a flashlight at first, and then with no light at all, still whisper-calling Link's name. Link always comes back by the morning. Rhett starts to notice that on the nights when Link doesn't disappear, he doesn't really sleep either. Rhett sometimes stands by his bedroom door to hear him tossing and turning, humming songs to himself. Rhett learns to navigate their streets by moonlight, stops whispering Link's name into the empty humid night air, just walks in the quiet darkness between the street lights, trying not trip over the uneven pavement cracks, looking for his friend.
He tries to imagine what Link is doing, sometimes, while he walks. At first he thinks maybe out with a girl that he doesn't want to tell Rhett about, but then that seems unlikely, Link seems as devoted to his girlfriend as ever. Then he thinks maybe getting into trouble, out at some bar or bent over some pool table, some group of assholes goading him to snort a line or to bet on the corner pocket, all the people who might take advantage of someone like Link, who still doesn't really understand people, still doesn't really understand what it means not to be entirely honest. But mostly Rhett pictures Link wandering the neighborhood just like he is, sweating on warm nights and wrapping his arms around himself on cold, under the dark black sky. It's blanker than the sky where they grew up, the orange lights along the big-town streets block out all the stars.
In fact he imagines when he finally finds Link, one of these nights, he'll grab him by the shoulders and say "What are you doing, man?" and then walk him home, and that'll be the end of it.
But what actually happens is one night he makes a left turn, and takes a walk through the park. Or at least, their little city calls it a park -- really it's nothing more than a playground and a glorified patch of unkempt trees, the last refuge of suburban deer. Rhett walks past the swingset and the slide, onto the little path into the wooded area, idly dragging his hands along the overhanging branches and leaves. And then he sees him. Link, in his little nest of soft grass and dirt, sleeping soundly.
Rhett gulps down some feeling, swallows it hard, and turns to walk quickly back home.
But he goes back the next few nights, just to watch. Link sleeps at the bases of trees, curled up in the roots, a little smile on his face. Rhett starts to notice how many fallen leaves he tracks into the apartment. The chunks of dirt that fall powder dry off his shoes when he stomps his feet at the door. How when they're out in the city, his hands are shaky. He startles back at every close-passing car. At night, asleep in his own private forest, the moonlight glitters off of his dark hair, which he's been growing long again.
Rhett remembers that first haircut, the way Link looked with his hair swept back from his forehead, clipped uneven by Rhett's mom's stolen kitchen scissors. The way Link delighted in food with crinkling cellophane wrappers. How happy he seemed not to be alone anymore in the woods, where the Randlers could get him. When Rhett brought his sleeping bag and called it "camping" to his brother and spent the night, Link curled against Rhett's side, putting Rhett's body between him and the quiet empty night. A funny thing was, over the years, Link had learned to cut Rhett's hair too, and their friends', he really enjoyed it. He had hands that fluttered gently around Rhett's face, soft fingertips that brushed the little bits of hair from the back of Rhett's neck. He always stood Rhett in front of the bathroom mirror afterward, to make sure Rhett liked it, and Rhett always looked at the reflection of Link's hopeful, happy face behind him. That first haircut, Rhett had snuck a shaving mirror from his parents' house too, and stashed it in his backpack. He remembered how proud Link looked when he saw his own face. But he also remembered afterward, Link's hands coming up out of habit to tug at the hair, now gone. Rhett had always pushed his hands down, told him, "Stop doing that, it makes you look weird."
Now he sits and watches Link, asleep in the grass and the rustling leaves. It's getting late into the fall, and here in the park, Rhett notices for the first time, away from the lights, up through the baring branches, you can see more of the stars. Asleep like this, Link's face is boyish and peaceful. His hair is a mess, there are twigs in it, the shaggy back of his head all ruffled from sleep. It makes little wings where it curls down over his ears. That was the first thing Rhett with his kitchen scissors had clipped away. And Rhett thinks to himself: What have I done?