#1-I've Got You

[breannasfluff]

Four Rabbits Meet

I came across @minart-was-taken's post about Four Swords + Lorule Ravio and fell in love with the concept. For writing purposes I changed Blue's name to Cyan so it's not confused with the actual Four Colors. ~

“So!” Purple claps his hands together and gives the rest of the group a bright look. “Should we head back to Link’s place? There’s a portal near here we can hit up.”

Three identical faces in different colors stare back. A fourth stares at the clouds.

“Are you kidding me?” the newly dubbed Gold says. “We’re four separate people and whoever…that is”—he waves at the one staring at the sky—“instead of Ravio and you just want to move on with life? What about our treasure hunt?”

Purple’s smile is a little strained, but he still nods. “Standing out here in the woods isn’t doing us any good.

Cyan’s voice is barely above a whisper. “I don’t think taking this sword was a good idea.”

“But it’s treasure!” Gold immediately flips sides, examining the sword in his hand. “We could sell it.”

“It’s magical,” Cyan says.

“And there’s four of them. So, we get four times the profit. Hey, Pink, you don’t want your sword, right?”

Pink glances between all of them and curls deeper into his hood. “Shouldn’t we figure out how to be—Ravio again?”

They all turn and look at Cyan, who shrugs. If there’s a magical answer, he doesn’t know it.

Purple takes the lead. “Look, we aren’t going to solve this out here. Let’s head back to the house. Link’s been on so many adventures, I’m sure he’s heard of something like this.”

Gold rolls his eyes, but sets off down the path. Purple and Cyan fall in behind him. Only Pink stays where he is, until Purple glances back at him. “Pink? Coming?”

“What about him?”

Right. The fifth one. He nearly glows pale yellow, and he’s still staring at the clouds. Even with this whole mess, there’s no sword in his hand to match theirs. Also, he doesn’t seem to be the…brightest lantern in the bunch. Mostly, he ignores them.

Purple doesn’t even attempt a smile, just sighs and waves at Pink. “Mind grabbing him? Maybe you can think of a nickname for him.”

The color brightens and runs back to grab the fifth’s hand. It takes a few tugs, but he follows, placid enough.

With a final glance, Purple hurries down the path to rejoin Gold. A quick portal to Hyrule to figure this out and they can get back to their travels. Link will know what to do.

Link is not home. He’s gone on a journey for an unknown period of time. The note to Zelda on the table is already covered in a light layer of dust. Either she came and left, or hasn’t noticed Link is missing.

The four—five colors stand in a circle, staring at the note.

“Well, we better head out.” Purple really likes Link’s house, too. It’s nicer than Ravio’s.

“What? No, we aren’t leaving!” Gold snatches the note, then crumples it into a ball.

“But Link is gone! We can’t stay here without permission.”

Gold’s eyes take on the crafty gleam Ravio does whenever he’s about to make an excellent point. “Who would watch over Link’s stuff while he’s gone? What if someone breaks in? Look how dusty his house is! And with so many magical items…”

Purple can practically see the rupees in his eyes. Link better have magical items to come home to. “But permission…”

Slinging an arm around his shoulder, Gold steers him out of the kitchen. “We’re helping, Purple. Link will be happy! We’ll keep things clean and protected while he’s gone; maybe make him a little money. We don’t want him to lose his rent income now, do we?”

“We don’t pay rent,” Cyan points out. Gold stomps on his foot.

“Okay, we’ll stay. But if Link comes back and wants us to leave—”

“Yes, yes, we’ll deal with it then. Now, about that money…” Gold turns back to the front room and—yep, he’s out.

Pink is still in the kitchen, holding onto the fifth one’s arm.

“Got a name for him?” Purple asks as he comes back in. He might as well make some tea; they need it.

The color perks up and nods. “Gleam! You like that, don’t you?”

Gleam stares at him and blinks slowly. “Link?”

“Link’s gone,” Purple says. He waits till the teapot is full before continuing. “We’re going to keep the place clean for him till he comes back.”

“Back?”

“…yes. When Link comes back.” He turns to Pink with a frown. “He understands Hylian, doesn’t he?”

Pink gasps and clings to Gleam’s arm. “Of course he does!” Then he turns to Gleam. “You do…don’t you?”

Gleam stares at him a touch too long, then nods. Lolia, is he that dense, or just an airhead? Well, Pink needs something to do, so— “You mind watching over Gleam for me? Sure would be a help.”

The color’s face lights and, wow, is that what Ravio looks like when he’s happy? Huh. It’s not a bad expression. “I can help! Leave it to me!” Then he turns to Gleam and squeezes his hand. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

Pink may have Gleam, but who’s got Purple? Why did today have to be the day the goddess pulled Link onto a new journey?

Something crashes in the front room and Gold screeches about merchandise. Right. Because Ravio as a whole is cursed.

Sighing, Purple pulls out more teacups. They are going to need it.

The following weeks bring them no closer to figuring out how to rejoin. Purple takes over running the shop—he looks the most like Ravio. While their robes changed color when they split, there’s still an extra robe he wears.

Looks-wise, it’s not a problem. Money-wise…well, Purple just wants to help people! And sometimes that means giving them a good deal. Gold loses his temper the first time he checks the books and starts training Purple on how to barter—or at least not give items away.

Link returns and Purple finds himself at sword-point from a variety of strangers. The other colors are out for the day; Cyan wanted to practice some spells with the swords. The hero doesn’t even seem pleased with his unexpected guest. Really! Who does he think dusted everything?

Purple draws on every acting skill he has—and channels a lot of Gold—to make it through the conversation long enough to get official permission to stay. Link has a new nickname, Legend, and the one called Four has a sword that looks suspiciously familiar.

The group is there for barely an hour before someone yells about a portal. Link—Legend switches out more items in a hurry and shoves the extra into Purple’s arms. “Don’t sell these!” Then he squints at him. “And stop being weird around my family. Just be yourself.”

Time calls for him and Purple is left standing in an empty house.

“Link came back.” Purple explains the short encounter to the other colors when they return.

“Why didn’t you tell him what happened?” Cyan comes back with two cups of tea and passes one to Purple. 

“You think Link would believe him without all of us there?”

Pink sits on the floor and leans back. “So, what do we do now?”

“We’ve got each other.” Purple puts his cup down and brushes off his robe. “Either we figure out how to become Ravio again before Mr. Hero returns, or we figure out how to adapt and live like this. That hero, Four, had a sword similar to the one we found. If we have to, we’ll wait till they come back and ask.”

There are nods and smiles from all the colors. It’s not much of a plan but—well, it will have to do for now.

Gleam steps forward and shoves a handful of berries in Purple’s hands. “For you.”

“Gleam, these are poisonous.”

The color just gives him a thumbs up, because of course he does.

~

Gleam is my special little problem child. We'll see this group pop up a few more times for flufftober as well!

[mistbix]

so i've been re-watching atla....... expect more art soon

[egophiliac]

time for skeleman

with the lack of any other info yet, all I can focus on are those Charles Lloyd-looking sunglasses. they are absolutely sending me. I feel like we're gonna fall through a tree or whatever and this stitched-up boney gentleman is gonna pop out from behind a gravestone and start serenading us with some smooth jazz on the saxophone.

or should I say...the saxoBONE???????

[mimimar]

finally completed my comic based on the song ivy by taylor swift!✿ please zoom in to read the text and see the details~

✿.✿.✿

you can get the digital zine pdf here! it includes extras like character profiles, costume design, more art of willow and ivy, zine-exclusive sketches and an illustrated guide to the symbolism of all the flowers in this comic.

you can also get prints of individual pages here!

✿.✿.✿

[vynnyal]

I've been having a delightful time stumbling over my emojis being used in random servers, so here's more

[leclerity]

stupid gets you killed

Charles Leclerc x Girlfriend!Reader count: 1.1k words summary: Charles and you have an emotional conversation after his reckless driving at a race. a/n: a short but angsty one, with a happy ending!

It could’ve been the end.

The way it felt, it almost was.

You watch as the red of the Ferrari and the green of the Aston Martin come close, inches apart, with Stroll nearly putting it in the back of your boyfriend’s car. Everyone around you gasps and for a split second, you see them touch and Charles’s car fly off into the grandstands – but that doesn’t happen. They don’t touch. Charles drives away unscathed, though you know that won’t be the end of it.

“That was too close,” says Arthur, shaking his head at the screen.

“He won’t like this too much,” you say and grab a pair of headphones lying around, listening in.

Everything is okay with the car, Bryan Bozzi says.

That was not okay! Charles screams. Who does he think he is?! Driving like an idiot… He should know better!

Keep your head calm, you’ve got forty laps to go.

You take off the headphones and tell Arthur what you just overheard. He shakes his head again, but you both know there’s nothing the two of you can do about it. Charles has been under pressure, ready to burst at any given moment, running second in the championship with maybe—maybe—a chance at something more. Anything that threatens it… Well, it throws him off.

You’re just waiting for the moment it happens.

The race keeps running, you listen in to the radio every so often, and his complaints and agitation are getting more obvious. He’s driving riskier, not caring enough about tyre management, and there’s a few moments when his car gets a little too close to another car.

He finishes in fourth. It’s not where he wanted to be but it’s better than out of the race, you tell yourself. There was a few moments where you held your breath, waiting to see if the anger is going to slip into careless mistakes, and it made you angry. Your boyfriend is better than this.

When he finishes the race, you run straight into his arms. “You did so well! I’m proud of you.”

“I could’ve done better,” he says.

“I know,” you say, and kiss him again. “Next time.”

Charles kisses you, too, before going to speak to others in the garage, keeping one eye on you at all times. You know he’s being hard on himself, but you see his clenched jaw, sunken shoulders, and you know this is going to be a tougher one than usual.

He’s in your orbit the most of the evening, glancing at you even when he’s in the media pen. You can hear some of the questions he’s being asked and a lot of them are about the incident and about his dangerous driving he nearly got a penalty for, and you can already hear the regret in his voice. He looks at you every time it comes up, as if he already knows how much it upset you.

At your side, Arthur gives you a nudge. “Are you going to talk some sense into him when you’re back at the hotel?”

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.”

“That was scary.”

You nod. “Too scary. I get the pressure and all, but…”

“Yeah,” Arthur says, “I don’t want to feel like I might lose my brother because he’s being angry and stupid.”

When you get home, you get dinner – he does the perfunctory celebrations and goes back to the hotel, where you’re waiting with him with your guys’ favourite takeaway. He had some time to hang out with the other drivers and now it’s time to hang out with you… But not before you give him a piece of mind.

He knows something’s wrong the moment he enters the hotel room.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you say.

He frowns. “Okay. You sure?”

You give him a long look.

Charles sits down next to you, looking exhausted but ready to devour the food – but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits with his elbows on his knees, hands held together. “It’s the race.”

“Mhm.”

“That’s why you’re giving me attitude.”

“Mhm.”

“Is it because of the Stroll incident?”

You shake your head. He should know better and he does, it will just take him a moment.

He sighs and leans into the couch, a defeated look on his face. “I should’ve handled it better, right?”

“Yeah.” You put a hand on his thigh. “Driving like that, Charles… You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“I would’ve been fine.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Babe—”

“Don’t babe me,” you say, shaking your head. “You got angry and…. Anger makes you stupid. Stupid gets you killed.”

Charles opens his mouth and closes it, knowing fair well that there’s nothing he could say in his defence that would make you change your mind. He sees it all on your face, you know it – the terror you’d gone through waiting to see if his anger will make him slip up, make a mistake; the threat of losing him.

He takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it, before placing it on his chest, right where his heart is. “Y/N,” he says, gently. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let my anger get the best of me.”

“I just… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know.”

“It frightens me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I just—The thought of you—”

“I know. C’mere.”

Charles gives your hand a gentle tug and then your head is on his chest and his arms are wrapped around you, keeping you warm and safe. “I’m sorry for scaring you. My job is scary, but I shouldn’t make it any more difficult than it already is.”

He kisses the top of your head and you feel a few tears escaping down your cheeks, and he holds you even tighter.

“I’ll be less angry next time, I promise,” he whispers. “Less stupid. For you. Okay?”

You nod instead of answering, and he pulls your chin up with a gentle finger, and then he’s wiping your tears and kissing you gently, promising over and over again to never make you feel like that again – and he doesn’t.

[ricky-mortis]

Hatchetfield @femslashfortnight Day 1: Make It Sapphic AU

[dangoulains-devotion]

[horreurscopes]

i like my body when it is with your body.

[stealingpotatoes]

hands you all this cal to announce i’ve FINALLY finished fallen order (by which i mean i finally picked it up again after those couple hours i played a few months ago and then finished the whole game in 2 days lol)

[acekindaneat]

I don't want this to end.

A cute little date scene that I really liked from the fic The Big Woo by @tinkertoysdamn !!!!!

[leftneb]

saw this picture of lando and immediately felt it in my soul that I had to draw it

also turned into a DBH AU piece because. the vibes.

original picture and details below the cut ˇˇˇˇ

~5h

[welcometogrouchland]

(ID in alt) I literally said I was gonna post this month's ago and then never had the wherewithal to describe it and so I didn't Lmao (said with pain). But since I'm thinking of opening my commissions I figured I should remind ppl that I. Yknow. Can draw.

Lots of Steph here (I had major art block making all of these and my brain worms for her kept me going) + some sprinkles of stephcass for Cass nation to enjoy!

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

Hello may 31th anon! Look at that, another year behind us and a new one to come. Have a nice day! ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡

[autisticandroids]

CASTIEL: Stop. What's the point if you don't mean it? You fear me - not love, not respect, just fear.

[youtube with closed captions]

a godstiel pity party. i'd like to thank an anon i got way back in february of 2021.

[leclerity]

you kiss him first

Charles Leclerc x Former Childhood Friend!Reader count: 1.1k words summary: Charles and you talk about the reasons why you haven't seen each other in ten years... and there may have been some miscommunications all this time. a/n: another angsty one, with another happy ending, as always - thank you for all the support on the fics so far!

The Monaco air is crisp as you step out of the door, leaving the laughter of your parents and family friends behind. You note you forgot how warm Monaco can be, even in the evenings, and Charles Leclerc laughs, reminding you that you’ve been away for too long.

Certainly long enough for childhood friends to become distant acquaintances, at best.

“It’s weird to think we used to play around these streets,” you say. “We were so stupid. It was dangerous!”

“Well, we were kids.” Charles shrugs. “We thought we knew best.”

He leads you away from his parents’—now mother’s—house and after a moment, you recognise the route as your old path up the hills, to the best vantage points the city could offer. You climb with the expertise of someone whose feet have wandered up the trails a million times before, even if it’s been a decade since the last time.

“I always thought we might get hit by a car someday, but I didn’t care,” you say. “And look at you now, driving cars for a living.”

“Means I get hit by more often than an average person. So, you were right.”

“Right. Just like always.”

“Yeah. You were always right, you know.”

Something about the way he says it, looking at the hill beneath his feet instead of you, sends shivers down your spine.

The further outside the city you go, the quieter it gets. Dozens of memories fly past your eyes, all of the same hike, with the same person by your side, only a child, a teenager.

“What was I right about?”

Charles doesn’t look at you, nor does he answer. You keep hiking in silence and you find yourself getting antsy, fidgeting with a loose string hanging off your t-shirt.

When you get to the top, it’s peaceful. It always has been. You see the whole city from here, all of the lights shining brighter as the sun sets in the distance, and you can’t help but wonder – what went wrong?

So you ask.

He laughs, but it’s nervous. When you look at him, his white shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows and the khaki shorts look too expensive against the dirty ground. He’s still got the same pretty face, the dimples in his smile, but he’s a far cry from the boy you grew up with.

“I don’t see the point in talking about it now,” he says.

“If not now, when? It’s been ten years already.”

“Never,” he says. “If I can choose.”

You turn to face him, the sights of Monaco be damned. “Why? We were good, Charles. I was supporting you with your karting, you were supporting me with all the hobbies I ever did…”

“We were good,” he agrees, but it’s almost sad. As if there’s no way back. As if whatever happened, it’s irreversible.

“No, you don’t get to just up and decide you’re never going to speak to your best friend again. You just… You don’t get to do that!”

“You’re right,” he says, nodding. “You’re right.”

“So what’s the issue?! I mean, I thought you were going to be by my side at the altar someday!”

Charles shakes his head, chuckling again, but you can see the watery reflection in his eyes. He doesn’t look at you, and for a moment you wonder what was it that you said that was enough to make him cry, and…

“That was the issue,” Charles says, softly. “I’d be by your side.”

You feel yourself frown. “Isn’t that the whole point?”

“No. It’s not.” He looks at you and you finally see the tears, the redness of his cheeks, and the emotion he’d been restraining for who knows how long. “I didn’t want to be by your side.”

“Oh.”

“Y/N—”

“No. It’s okay. I get it.”

You move a little further from him, pretending your heart hadn’t just been stabbed, but he scoots right back next to you.

“Y/N, let me finish.” When you don’t say anything, he adds, “I wanted to stand opposite of you. That was the issue.”

“Opposite of—oh.”

The past rewrites itself in your head, all those little moments that ever confused you suddenly being crystal clear. You see all the hints you missed or saw and ignored – the refusals to talk about your crushes, the distancing that began when you got into your first relationship, even though it lasted not even two weeks…

And the absence of contact when your family moved away.

“Charles,” you say. “What are you—I don’t understand—”

“You didn’t see me the way I saw you,” he says, “and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

And—in a moment of unprecedented courage—you look him straight in the eyes. “Who says I didn’t?”

A look flashes over your face that tells you he’s experiencing a rewriting of the same kind you experienced moments ago. The moments when you held his hand for a little too long as a kid, when you cheered him on the track even when you were supposed to be on a date, when you listened to him vent about his brothers. You know these moments – and you hope that now, he can see them for what they were, too.

You put a hand on his cheek. He leans into it immediately, as if coming home.

“You know,” you whisper, “I don’t think there’s a moment of my life I didn’t love you. Even the past ten years… All I could do was miss you.”

“Me, too,” he says. “I hated myself for staying away, but I had to. I thought I had to.”

“If you just asked…”

He laughs, again, and it’s nervous all the same – but his hand is on your knee and he’s leaning in, and the air between you is charged. “Asked what? ‘Hey, Y/N, how’s your day? Also, do you happen to be in love with me, too?’ Is that what I should’ve asked?”

“Yes. And I would’ve said yes.”

He sighs; his eyes drop to your lips. “You’re telling me I wasted ten years because I was afraid?”

“Both of us were.”

“So, now…”

You become acutely aware of the distance between the two of you – all it would take is to lean in, ever so slightly, and the friendship barrier would be crossed. As if it hadn’t been crossed all those years ago, before you even knew what love or friendship were.

You smile. “Now you kiss me.”

“Tempting,” he says. “There’s one problem, though.”

“There is?”

Charles’s smile mirrors yours, wide and delighted. “I’m afraid if I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop.”

“Then don’t,” you say, and you kiss him first.