#Lu febuwhump

[maesonc-artistic-adventures]

Doodlin

[nell0-0]

AHHHH! He lost his EYE in the war! AHHHH!

I am perfectly normal about your last comic. I swear. Very normal. Just...not at all sobbing and emotional over it. You should know that. Definitely. ;_;

It's so good and so sad!

Yep ;u;

Glad you liked it tho!

Take the broken mask drawing as symbolism (?). A piece of him is now forever a part of Mask, and there's no taking that back.

There are many protrayals of Fierce Deity out there, but I like to think he ain't necessarily mean (quite the contrary), just a bit out of touch with how hylians work and feel. Fierce Deity deemed some things necessary for Mask's survival and well being, and not necessarily all of them were free of consequences. It was done with good intentions tho. If only he bothered to explain/tell Mask that...

Tormenting Twilight a bit is fun sometimes too ksksks

> Context about the ask HERE

> Twili Twilight looks HERE

> Continuation of this HERE

[la-sera]

I Read too much LU Febuwhump

So, can I draw a whump?

This just happens to match the Febuwhump 2024 prompt day 19: Please don't.

Characters: Legend and Hyrule.

WARNING

TW blood, knife, human sacrifice

I'm

warning

you

Just consider this a nightmare.

Why I like making Hyrule apologize and Legend cry..?

[linkiscool333]

@la-sera @across-violet-skies

Link on ao3 should work, here is @hyah-lian beautiful work if not.

[arecaceae175]

Hello, it's me, your fan!

I really like your fanfic from Febuwhump 2023, chapter 25 to 30, your story makes me tense when I read it XD.

I made Sky's fanart in chapter 25, Knife Wound. I really enjoyed the story and loved drawing this fanart!

fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44354347/chapters/113707750

I hope you like it!

AHSHHFFJEJENWNAJANDNFKWJSKWOQKWLFNFJDOQPDNDNWJWKPSKDE (/pos)

OH MY GOD. I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!!! THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I IMAGINED AS I WAS WRITING IT!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you so so so much 😭🥹🥰😍💞🥹💞 I’m so normal about this. I will be thinking about it forever every day for the rest of my life. I’m so happy. So many happy stims!!!! You’ve made my month!

Can I link the art in the fic notes? Everyone must see and appreciate this.

[skyward-floored]

Febuwhump collab day 12 — semi-conscious

This one’s been on ao3 for a bit I just sort of forgot to put it over here XD This one was suggested by @zeldathusiast, I hope you all enjoy!

No specific warnings apart from a mentioned kidnapping/being held captive, and a bad headache.

Today’s lovely art

Ao3 link

————————————————————

“He has to be here somewhere, right? That tip we got said he’d be here, but maybe they were wrong, Dad kept being vague on where he got it so I don’t know if we can totally trust it, and we should be prepared to get out of here if it’s a trap and if it was wrong we should plan to check that other—”

“Green, we’ll find him, alright?” Twilight reassured for the fifth time in as many minutes. “Don’t worry.”

Green’s mouth clicked shut, and he gave Twilight a tiny nod.

Twilight watched him turn away, the shadows under his eyes more prominent in the harsh artificial lighting they were sneaking past, and felt a familiar squeeze of worry at the similar expressions on the other colors’ faces.

Four had been split almost a week now, and with Red gone missing during a fight, he couldn’t reform.

Four had never been apart for so long, and that along with the panic of not knowing what was happening to Red, he was acting more and more strange, the remaining pieces of him veering more sharply towards what they represented.

Green had been getting more jittery, obsessing over Red’s whereabouts, and acting overly protective over the other two, which was driving them both crazy. Vio had turned to research and often closed himself away, poring over what information they had, and Blue would blow up at even the smallest slight, face red with tears in his eyes.

Twilight could only imagine the state Red was in.

The behavior grew more severe with every passing day, and while nobody said it, as they watched the colors fall apart they all silently wondered how long Four could even be split.

Did he have a limit? Was he nearing it?

And if he reached it..?

Nobody wanted to find out, and their efforts towards locating Red had only gotten more desperate as the days ticked by. All of them were worried and frightened on Four’s behalf, and Twilight knew he wasn’t the only one who was thinking back to that first terrifying week when Sky had gone missing, and stayed missing.

But Time had finally gotten some information that narrowed down where Red could be, to only a few places as compared to the entire city they’d been scouring before.

Which is why Twilight was now sneaking down a harshly lit hallway with a handful of his brothers, trying not to be consumed by worry while they searched.

“We close?” Twilight asked, and Legend nodded, gesturing to an upcoming split path.

“He should be in one of these hallways somewhere, but they’re pretty long. It might take us a while to actually find him,” Legend said with a frown. “...With time we don’t have. We should’ve brought Wild.”

“Well it’s too late now,” Blue snapped from beside him, his hands tightening into fists. “Why didn’t you think of that before we left?!”

“Well sor-ry, Wild’s checking that other place with Dad and Wind, twerp, I didn’t know we’d need him,” Legend snapped back.

“Guys, knock it off,” Twilight said sharply. Good grief, we’re all running on way too little sleep. “We’ll just split up into groups of two.”

“There’s five of us,” Vio pointed out.

“I know that Vio, I meant you and Legend and Green and Blue can pair up, and I’ll go by myself.”

“That seems like a bad idea,” Vio continued with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you always saying it’s better we stick together?”

Twilight took in a steadying breath at his snarky tone, ignoring the urge to be sarcastic in return. “Yes, but not in this case.”

“Why don’t we three just go together, and you and Legend team up?” Green suggested, and Twilight and Legend exchanged short glances.

“...No. Better we do duos,” Legend said, and jerked his head towards a hallway. “C’mon. Let’s get going. Come with me Blue, Green and Vio can check the opposite end from us. Twi can check the other hall.”

Twilight nodded when nobody argued, and they all split off, Twilight grateful that Legend would be able to see all of the colors from where he was.

There had been an unspoken rule as of late not to leave any of them alone. Not with how they’d been acting.

Twilight ran down his assigned hallway, peering through every door that had a window, and opening the ones that didn’t. They’d “borrowed” a keycard to use to get into the facilities, and managed to make copies so they could all get past the doors.

Twilight methodically checked every door, working steadily down the hallway. His worry grew the longer he didn’t find any sign of Red, and he picked up the pace, looking more frantically. He was nearly at the end of the corridor, and there’d been no sign anybody was down this way.

Are we sure that info was real? he thought as he approached the very last window in the hall. Mom hasn’t contacted us yet, so her group hasn’t found him... or maybe it was all faked just to give us false hope...

Twilight looked inside, and relief washed over him, intense and thick.

A little figure sat huddled against the wall inside, red clothes bright against the dull color of the room. His blond head was pressed to his knees with such an air of sadness that Twilight’s heart ached, and he quickly ran to the door.

It slid open with a quiet swish, but the figure didn’t move even with the sound, or when Twilight stepped inside.

“Red?” he called.

That made his little brother’s head snap up to stare at him, eyes wide and startled. His gaze landed on Twilight’s face, and his expression turned even more surprised, Red letting out a gasp as he jumped to his feet.

“Twilight!” he shrieked, and bolted, throwing himself into Twilight’s arms with a sob.

Twilight hugged him back just as fiercely, Red crying into his shoulder, and he quickly clicked a button on his radio four times, the signal they’d all agreed to use for “I found him”.

“We found you Smithy, you’re okay now, I got you,” Twilight soothed, his shirt steadily growing damp. “It’s okay. Are you hurt at all?”

“N-no,” Red hiccuped, face still pressed to Twilight’s shirt. “Th-they mostly left me alone, I d-don’t think they even wanted a-a hostage.”

Twilight squeezed him tighter. “I’m so sorry Red.”

Red didn’t reply, aside from another hiccuping sob.

Twilight knew they should get going, but he couldn’t bring himself to make Red move just yet, so he held him a little longer and just let him cry. Red’s louder sobs eventually petered out, and Twilight gave him a comforting pat on the back as Red finally sat up a little, still sniffling.

“Twi, is e-everyone else here?” Red finally asked, letting out a hiccup. “I-I don’t want to be separate anymore.”

“Yeah they came, they’re close by,” Twilight reassured, and Red visibly relaxed, though he still looked upset.

“It was awful being away from them so long,” he whimpered. “It felt...”

He swallowed and didn’t continue, and Twilight gave him a squeeze.

“Well if we want to get you back together, we should get going,” he said, and Red eagerly nodded, wiping his sleeve over his face.

Twilight helped him up, and then turned into a wolf, gesturing for Red to hop on. He gladly did, and they ran went back the way Twilight had come, opting less for sneakiness and more for pure speed. Twilight didn’t want Red to have to wait a second longer than necessary to be back with the other parts of himself, and he loped down the hallways as fast as he could without slipping on the shiny floors.

Red in turn clung tightly to his fur, his head not quite buried in it. Twilight could just barely feel Red’s tears dampening his fur as he sniffled again, and his stomach clenched, even with the relief pounding through him.

The part of Twilight, the more wolffish part of him that longed to protect had been going haywire all week, and even now that he had Red secure on his back, it still bayed for justice.

Twilight ignored it. He was pretty sure Red’s captors were long gone, and going after them now wouldn’t be productive in any way. Even if he wanted to demand answers as to why they’d grabbed a nine year old and locked him in a room for a week.

No. Red safe and secure on his back was plenty for now, and as he firmly told himself that, the wolf began to calm.

Though he knew it wouldn’t completely settle until they were all back together and safe at home again.

Twilight turned a corner near where he and the rest of the group had split up, and Red sat up and shouted, pointing excitedly down the hall. The rest of the colors were already making their way towards them, but they all zeroed in at Red’s shout, relief on all three faces.

“RED!” Blue yelled, and all three of them bolted, Red leaping off Twilight’s back and crashing into them with a happy cry.

All four of them began chattering simultaneously, asking questions and crying and in Blue’s case, giving Red a punch on the arm that wasn’t as hard as it could have been.

Twilight smiled in relief as they huddled together, turning back into a human, and realized that the rest of the team they had brought was coming up behind them, Legend Hyrule and their mother all looking extremely relieved.

“Red— never do that again,” Green said as they hugged, and Red nodded rapidly.

“I won’t! I won’t, it wasn’t even on purpose, they just grabbed me, a-and I couldn’t get away, and nobody heard me yell,” Red said in a watery voice, and Vio gave him a soft pat on the head.

“Well you’re okay now, you don’t have to cry,” Blue grumbled, but his arm didn’t leave Red’s shoulder.

The colors didn’t talk any longer after that, only hugging a few moments more before they began to glow, unable to wait a second longer to reform. A pulse of multicolored light shone around the hallway, bouncing off the pale walls, and Twilight had to look away until it began to dim.

Four stood alone, his eyes closed as the last of the glow faded away.

Then he doubled over with his hands clenched to his head, face twisted up in pain. Twilight darted forward and caught him before he fell, and Four whimpered in his arms, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Four, hey, what’s wrong?” Twilight asked, trying not to panic.

Four flinched at his words, and the sound of the others running up as well, and tried to curl into a ball, still clenching at his hair.

“What’s wrong with him?” Legend asked with wide eyes.

“Four, are you okay?” Hyrule asked, and Four only let out another whimper.

“Give him some space,” Malon said, and they slid back a bit, giving her room to kneel by Four. She placed a gentle hand on his back, and rubbed it as Four let out a pitiful groan. “Four? Honey are you okay?”

Four only groaned again, and Hyrule scooted over and set a glowing hand on his head, eyes closed in concentration. But he withdrew after a moment, gaze slightly bewildered.

”His head is fine, I didn’t see anything,” he said, and Twilight frowned.

“Did they do something just to Red then?” Twilight asked, trying to keep his voice calm and only partially succeeding. “That would hurt him when he merged?”

“I don’t... think so?” Hyrule said. He sounded uncertain though, and wrung his hands a bit.

“Seriously? We would have noticed if they’d done something,” Legend shot at Twilight.

“How do you know?” Twilight answered just as sharply. “It might not be physical!”

“Well maybe he’s just—”

“Boys shh, you’re hurting him,” Malon said a bit sharply, and they went silent, another quiet whimper from Four the only noise. “Four? Can you tell us what’s wrong?”

Four dragged his eyes open, and Twilight stared, the normal blue of his eyes completely overrun by jagged swirls of red, green, and purple, blue scattered throughout. As he watched, the red got larger, and Four flinched, once again slamming his eyes shut and falling mostly limp in Twilight’s arms.

“Four, we can’t help unless we know what’s wrong,” Twilight tried, running a hand through his hair.

Please Four, can you give us something?

A few long moments ticked by, Four’s shaky breathing the only sound in the bright hallway. Finally Four breathed out, the noise hitching in the middle, and his fingers tightened in his hair.

“T-too— much,” he finally bit out, voice hitching and wavering. “M-Memories, different—”

Four pressed his head tighter against Twilight’s chest, his breathing trembling. He let out another small groan, and Twilight ran a helpless hand over his hair as he tried to curl himself up even tighter.

“Oh. I get it,” Legend said quietly, and they all looked at him inquisitively. Legend sighed. “Look, he was split all that time, right? Normally getting back together is no big deal for him, even if it’s been a little while. But his experiences as Green, Blue, and Vio this time were so vastly different from Red’s that when he reformed...”

“...all of those stark different memories got put in one head,” Malon finished, and ran a gentle hand through Four’s hair again. “Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry.”

Twilight wasn’t sure if Four even heard her, with the way he was curled up in a ball, hands still clenching at his head, face screwed shut in a wince.

“Can we help him?” Hyrule asked, and Malon looked uncertain.

“I don’t know, hon. It looks to me like he’ll just need some time to adjust,” she said, gently running her hand through Four’s hair. “Is there any way we can help, Four?”

Four didn’t say anything in reply, but he gave a tiny, pained shake of his head.

“We should get him home then, right?” Twilight spoke up, trying not to sound overly worried despite how fast his heart was still pounding. “If he just needs to adjust. He’ll be able to rest better there, and we need to get out of here anyway.”

Malon nodded, and Twilight scooped Four up into his arms, relieved his brother was fairly lightweight. Four curled into his hold, face still drawn with pain, and Twilight held him tight as they worked their way back towards the exit.

Somehow zero alarms had been triggered by their presence, and Twilight was starting to suspect the place had been abandoned what with how silent and empty it was. The fact that that meant the people who’d kidnapped Red had basically abandoned him here all alone was enough to reawaken the protectiveness in Twilight’s chest with a snarl, and this time he only half-heartedly reeled it in.

For their sakes, they had better not show their faces again anytime soon.

“Tw-i..?”

Several minutes of the trek had gone by before the whisper came from Twilight’s arms, and he looked down at Four, still limp in his hold.

“Yeah bud?”

“Thanks,” Four whispered into his shirt, and though he didn’t elaborate, Twilight knew what he meant.

“You’re welcome,” Twilight replied gently, and Four tucked his face against his neck, the pained creases on his face slightly eased.

[adrift-in-thyme]

I wrote this a few months ago for Febuwhump...Day 13 I think? I was super excited about sharing it. But when my schedule got crazy I had to change my plans and didn't get a chance to post it.

So here it is now!

CW for blood, injury, vomiting, and torture (including sleep deprivation)

--------------

Another slap snaps Time’s head back, stinging across his face. Stars explode before him and turn the semi-darkness spotty. He grits his teeth against the rising tide of nausea.

“I asked you a question.” A wiry, whiskered man leans forward, malice glinting in his small, rat-like eyes. “And you will answer me.”

Time drags in a breath. The air is stale, tinged with the sickening iron scent of metal chains and his blood. His attackers loom over him, knuckles red from their assaults upon him, faces sneering.

He ignores them. He has seen quite enough of them, after all, in the past few days. And he doesn’t doubt that he will be seeing quite a bit more. 

He has no plans to give in anytime soon. It doesn’t matter how they pressure him, or how many torture methods they try. He will never give up one of their own.

“I told you,” he croaks, “I do not know anyone with the power to resurrect Ganon.”

A meaty fist grasps his shoulder, fingers digging into the stab wound there. Time just barely manages to bite off a scream. 

“Wrong answer!”

The man steps closer. The magic that emanates from him is all wrong. Upside down and inside out and not his own in the least. The people he has dragged it out of, stolen it from, cry out with every movement he makes. It is all Time can do not to gag as the sounds and smells of it smother him.

“I am a sorcerer– ” 

“You’re a thief and a coward,” Time spits. Fingers turn into a fist, slamming into his wound with a ferocity that makes him lightheaded. He hardly hears his own cry. 

“I am a sorcerer,” the man repeats. He grabs Time’s chin, forces his head up so he has no choice but to look at him. “One who has sworn his very life to the Demon King. I have the power to do what must be done. I will bring him back and help him take his rightful place as ruler of Hyrule. I need only for you to give me the answer I seek.”

A bitter smirk lifts Time’s lips, even as blood drains down from them. 

“Ganondorf would be ashamed to have a follower such as you. How long have you held me here now? Four days? And you have wasted that time on repeating the same question. Perhaps, you should use that skill with magic you pretend to possess and find another avenue to resurrect him. Because searching for someone who can do it for you is a fool’s errand.”

Another blow knocks his head back. It hits the damp stone wall with a nauseating crack. Time pitches forward, retching, and the wizard steps back and out of the way. 

“You are full of pride, hero,” he sneers. “You forget your place, you ignore your situation.”

Time skewers him with as severe a glare as he can muster. “I have not forgotten either. In fact, I know them quite well. Which is why I have told you the truth. No person exists with the blood that can resurrect Ganon.”

“Truth? What truth? You have done nothing except to mock me and spew lies.”

The sorcerer whirls away and a streak of flame zips through Time’s veins. He cannot restrain his harsh cry as agony washes over him. But just as quickly as it comes, it is gone. And he has a split second to drag in a few, desperate wheezing breaths. Then, the sorcerer begins to speak once more, every word like another assault. 

“You are correct in one way, however. I have consistently used the same methods to pry the words from you. No torture, whether by magic or physical harm, has moved you from your stance of silence.” He pauses, hand held to his chin in contemplation. “Perhaps, it is time to try another avenue. Bring in the other one.”

With a wave of one bony hand, his companions jolt into action, rushing from the room, and slamming the leaden door behind them. 

Time’s eye widens, fear slicing through him. He had thought he was the only one the thugs had captured. He had been alone, after all, scouting the far perimeters of the camp, when they had knocked him out. 

The sorcerer looks back at him, now, a sly grin stretching his wide mouth.

“Your little friend happened to spot us dragging you away and decided to try and be a hero. Fortunately, my little sleeping spell worked as effectively to knock him out as it did with you.”

The door slides open with an eerie creak and Time turns toward it, heart in his throat.  

“Ah.” The sorcerer sets a hand on his shoulder, fingernails digging through his tunic. “And there was another fortunate development for us. You well know that my spells are excruciating. Wonderful for convincing, to be certain. But you spared me the trouble of exerting too much magical energy on you two. You are quite the collector of masks, it seems. And while some were childish at best, others have proven…very useful.”

A familiar form stumbles over the threshold, wrists clasped in the unforgiving grip of manacles. His tunic and trousers are splotched with dirt and dried blood and his shoulders sag with exhaustion. His long, blonde hair has been freed from its hair band and falls limply forward to hide his features. But his ears peek through it and the sight of them makes Time’s stomach turn. 

They are encased in a prison of wiry black metal. Time would recognize that sight anywhere. 

“No,” he breathes.

Wild lifts his head and the leaden weight in Time’s gut twines itself tighter. 

The cage of unyielding obsidian extends to the rest of his face, curving in web-like strands across his cheeks and forehead. Eyes once the same shade as Malon’s are now blood red and rimmed in white. They stare wide and terrible, fixed in an expression of permanent horror. 

Despite it all, a shaky grin quirks Wild’s lips. 

“H-hey, old man,” he slurs, fumbling to keep his feet beneath him.

His captor practically drags him the rest of the way into the room. They hurl him down beside Time and he lands on the hard floor with a grunt. 

Laughter rings out, echoing off of the walls of the cell and Time drags his attention away from his cub to scowl at the wizard. The man meets his stare without fear.

“I don’t have to explain the implications of this little development to you, do I? You know full well what that horrid device of yours does.”

He turns away, arms crossed and a victorious smirk on his face. “It has been four days for him as well. Four without a wink of sleep. I wonder…how long can one go without slumber? I will leave you both to ponder that.”

The door screams as it is once again pulled open. And the sorcerer glides out in a rush of nauseating power and swishing robes.

“What a creep,” Wild mumbles, gazing at the spot where he had stood. He lists slightly to the side, bumping against Time’s uninjured shoulder. Time wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. 

“Have they truly forced you to wear that for four days?” He asks, worry turning his tone sharp. His own pain seems inconsequential now, the ache of his wounds a far-off thing. All that matters is the broken boy slumped against him.

Jerkily, Wild nods. A small sniffle sounds from beneath the mask. 

Time’s heart clenches. “Oh, cub, I’m so sorry.”

The champion shrugs, weakly. “Least it doesn’t…doesn’t put me to sleep. Rather be kept ‘wake.” He giggles, drunk on exhaustion, fighting against the tears Time hears in his voice. “And ‘sides…got hundred years of sleep under m-my belt. Gotta count…right? Be fine.”

With a sigh, he shifts, head slipping down to rest on Time. The harsh edges of the mask bite into his abused flesh. But he doesn’t move away. The least he can do is act as Wild’s makeshift pillow. 

If he could, he would tear the mask off of him and shatter it on the hard ground. But once the cursed thing has latched onto its victim’s face, only the one who put it there can remove it. And if the blood visible beneath its dark edges is any indication, Wild has already learned what happens to anyone else who attempts it.

“They hur-hurt you too,” the champion murmurs, after a pause. His tone is more somber now and fearful. Like a lost child, pleading with a parent for reassurance. “I…I can’t really see straight anymore but…they told me…they told me they were. ‘M sorry.”

Time shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me, cub. I’m alright.”

Gently, he brushes Wild’s bangs back, trying not to wince as his fingertips touch icy metal rather than warm skin. The champion leans into his touch, curling up like the barn cats do when they are seeking warmth. Any other time, the older hero would find it amusing. Now, it only makes his heart ache.

“Can’t tell them,” Wild mumbles, barely audible now. “Can’t tell ‘bout Rule.”

Time draws in a trembling breath. “No.”

But that doesn’t mean there aren’t other ways to save his cub from this terrible fate. And by the goddesses, he is going to find them. Even if he has to burn the place down.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Febuwhump Day 12 - Semi-Conscious

This one is based on one of my favorite whumptober art pieces from one of my favorite artists, @kikker-oma

The smell of wet grass filled his nostrils as he blearily opened his eyes. An owl hooted nearby while crickets chirped. It was a relaxing ambience overall, but he was far too addled to figure out what was happening. Nothing felt right - his head ached horribly, he felt like he was chained down, crushed under an impossibly heavy and invisible weight. Twilight groaned and then coughed, his throat parched, and he shivered as sweat poured off him.

Was he poisoned...? Why did he feel like this?

He heard something over him, like a low, rumbling sound. Although he could hardly decipher what it was, it sounded... soothing. Familiar.

Time.

Blinking his eyes open, Twilight realized he was laying on the floorboards of a half demolished building. He could see figures in the distance but he couldn't parse out who they were.

Spirits his head hurt.

He was sick. He remembered now, vaguely. He had fallen ill shortly after they'd arrived in this new Hyrule.

The floorboards creaked as someone walked away. Twilight glanced around, not really registering what had just happened, but he saw a bowl of water with a rag resting in it.

Water. He could get the sweat off his face, he could drink.

Twilight reached shakily, his arm hurting at the movement, slowly descending to the ground before he could even get to his goal. His vision blurred a little, and he rested his forehead on the ground before trying again.

"Twi, hold on, I'm coming over--" someone said. Wild? It sounded like Wild.

"I've got it," Twilight insisted, his hand finally reaching the bowl before it collapsed once more against his will, spilling the contents of the bowl and knocking the rag farther out of reach.

Twilight stared at it a moment, frustration boiling over, desperate for relief, and he found himself crying.

Crying. Oh Spirits. Make it stop, make it stop.

Someone knelt beside him just as someone else grabbed the bowl.

"It's okay, Pup," Time soothed softly, a hand on Twilight's back. "We'll get more, it's okay."

Wild appeared in his line of vision with a flask and a smile. "Hey, see? I've got water right here."

"You think he's gonna be delirious like this for long?" someone else asked a little worriedly.

Twilight hiccupped as he felt himself get pulled into a seated position. Wild helped him hold the flask so he could drink, and a white sailcloth caught his eye in his periphery as someone laid a cool, damp rag on his forehead. Goddesses that felt amazing.

"I'm not sure," the deeper voice to his right rumbled before letting him rest against something soft and warm. Twilight sank into the comfort, sniffling, forgetting that he'd been crying a moment ago. An arm wrapped around him, holding him close as he listened to a steady heartbeat.

"Champ...?" Twilight asked confusedly.

Wild appeared in front of him. "Hey, it's okay. I'm here."

"Oh," Twilight answered dully. "Hi."

Wild snorted with a smile. "Hey."

"We'll see if his fever breaks in the morning," the person holding him said.

Fever? Oh, that's right, he was sick.

He was sick, right?

Twilight hummed, squeezing his eyes shut as the headache pulsed again. He was pulled tighter into the embrace, and a blanket was pulled around his shoulders.

"Go back to sleep, Pup."

Sighing, Twilight let himself go, safe in Time's embrace.

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

BDOR Prologue: The Sword that Learned to Speak (Febuwhump Alt Prompt: Human Weapon)

TW: none

A little hum that Wild almost didn’t seem aware of danced upon the afternoon air as he stirred at the pot propped over the fire. His wooden spoon clack clacked against the metal edges of the cooking pot, and the fragrant scent of the herbal soup with mushrooms mingled with the impromptu music to create a comforting atmosphere that evening. Twilight stared at the kid over the campfire, chewing at a cuticle in thought as he listened. Ever since he’d met him about a month ago, he’d always been… quiet, for lack of a better word. No, there was a better word. That word was eerily, frighteningly, completely and utterly silent.

He didn’t make a sound around Twilight, if he could help it. He spoke solely in gestures that Twilight was only just beginning to learn how to translate, his body language guarded and his face near expressionless except for an annoyed scowl. Unflinchingly mute and stoic, he didn’t seem to voice a single verbal sound if he could help it—he didn’t laugh or cry or shout, didn’t even let out more than a few whimpers that one time a few weeks back that he’d gotten a monster’s arrow in his thigh and Twilight had been forced to dig out with no more equipment than a rusty dagger, a scrappy tourniquet, and a cheap bottle of alcohol. As time went on, Wild started to become more inclined to show that emotion on his face and through his posture—often in amusing mimicry of Twilight himself—but even then he was careful to walk and eat and even fight in near complete silence besides the clashing of blades in battle. Hell, Twilight wasn’t even sure if the kid farted. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

It had been a little better when he was only known to the boy as Wolf, but not by a lot. Wild still hadn’t spoken or laughed often , but at least when he moved he had a sound to him, rustling leaves as he walked past, humming or whistling songs that he seemed to have made up to himself. That was, until he’d discovered that Twilight and Wolf were the same, at which point he’d retreated into that stoic, almost unearthly silence around the both of them. One thing that Twilight had missed the most was the humming that Wild didn’t seem to realize he was doing now.

“Say, why’re you so quiet all the time ‘round me?”

The words were out before Twilight could reconsider their effect. And indeed, that hum in the air fizzled out abruptly, and the wooden spoon froze in its continuous circular path in Wild’s hand. The resulting look the kid shot Twilight over the cooking pot was guarded and icy, almost. His shoulders raised up to his ears defensively.

“I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked ya that. None of my business.” Twilight backtracked mentally, cursing his stupid mouth. Uli had always told him to think before he spoke, but he never seemed to be able to catch up with his stupidest thoughts before they were already past his lips. Maybe he could just pretend he hadn’t said it? Twilight rubbed at the back of his neck as he averted his eyes, pretending to find something interesting in the line of the treetops at the edge of camp, as he asked as casually as he could manage, “Say, how long until the food’s done, ya reckon?”

Wild let out a little long-suffering sigh—still more than Twilight had heard from him in the last few weeks—and set down his wooden spoon. He stood, then moved to sit opposite of Twilight, his face set into a concentrated frown. Twilight cringed, and apologies began to spill from his mouth.

“Listen, I’m sorry, I’m real sorry. I shouldn’t’ve asked nothing ‘bout it, I didn’t mean no…” 

Oh. Twilight trailed off when he realized that Wild was moving his hands in that odd, focused way he did when he wanted to say something. Sign Language, the gestures were apparently called. Most people of Wild’s world seemed to know it, which hurt Twilight all the more that he himself did not. When Wild did deign to speak to him, their communication was rarely true sign, and more a bizarre game of charades to get across what he wanted to say, but Twilight would be damned if he didn’t try his hardest to understand.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Twilight sat back, eyeing him carefully. “Start over. And just a little bit slower please.”

A twist of Wild’s lips. His hand moved through the first gesture again: a sign that looked similar to no , then a flick of his wrist out from it into… a pointing motion?

“Uh no…. not…” Twilight fumbled, repeating the sign to himself. “Not… not… not going? Like your voice doesn’t work? I’ve heard you before, that ain’t true.”

Wild shook his head vehemently, then signed a combination of two simpler words, both of which Twilight recognized.

“No… good? Not good?” Twilight said to himself as he mimicked the sign. That received a nod of the head from Wild, and Twilight’s brow furrowed. “No good? Wait, what’s not good?”

Wild tapped his voice box, raising an eyebrow in emphasis. 

“Your speech isn’t any good? Like it hurts to speak? Or it sounds bad? Ah, I get what you’re saying!” Twilight said triumphantly. But when he only received another shake of the head, he melted in sullen disappointment, crossing his arms. “Well nevermind then. I’m sorry, Wild, I ain’t understanding you.”

Wild wrung out his hands and abruptly shot to his feet, apparently deeming it all nothing more than an exercise in futility. 

“No, no, no, don't leave!” Twilight yelped, scrambling up after him. “Wait, please just say it again, I’m doin’ my best to understand ya, I swear. Come back, please, gimme one more try.”

Wild, as requested, sat back down with another long-suffering sigh of his. He signed through a completely different phrase, his fingers moving far too quickly for Twilight to follow.

“Hold on, hold on, hold on!” Twilight sat up taller, waving at him to stop . “I wasn’t ready, I’m sorry. Slowly, please, I’m trying to understand. One word at a time, please.”

Wild’s frustration was nearly tangible in the air. Very pointedly, he tapped his own throat.

“Voice?”

A nod. Wild motioned pulling a sword from its scabbard.

“A sword… a—a weapon?"

This one also received Wild’s approval. The next word was a bit harder to understand. Wild signed no , then made a grasping motion towards himself, like taking something in both of his hands.

“Has?” A frown of disapproval and a shrug. Close, then. “Needs…. wants? Okay, so…” Twilight ran back through the words in his head, piecing them together. “A voice, a weapon… does not need? A sword does not need a voice?” Twilight furrowed his brow, thoroughly confused by now. “What weapon, Wild? We don’t even know where the Master Sword is yet. Do you mean that one?”

Wild shook his head, then placed a hand on his own chest.

“You the weapon? Wild, you’re not a sword, you’re…” Twilight’s tone was joking, but he trailed off as Wild’s face flashed to ugly frustration . He very emphatically pointed at his own chest again, then turned away pointedly, signing something that Twilight clearly caught as You don’t understand.

“Okay, Wild…” The kid was upset, now, no need to make it worse. “I, ah… I understand.” He did not understand at all, but at the same time, he was starting to think that he did. Maybe this silence was to do with something to do with his past that he couldn’t seem to remember. “Is… is food done, do you think?”

Wild scoffed, clearly not falling for that lie, and stalked back over to the pot. He stirred its contents, nodded to himself, and began to distribute the servings into bowls. Twilight stared at the top of his head, lost in thought.

A sword needs no voice? Who in his past had taught him he was nothing more than a voiceless weapon to be pointed towards an enemy?

Whoever it was, Twilight was going to have words with them, whether it be in this life or the next.

Visit this fic on ao3 here BDOR Prologue: The Sword that Learned to Speak or the Febuwhump series here HotCheetoHatred's Febuwhump 2024

Or, for any of you interested in the BDOR series itself, you can read the main fic here Blood Drops on Roses: Linked Universe and also check out other completed Prologue works here! BDOR Prologue: A Haircut ; BDOR Prologue: Ballgowns and Buffoonery ; BDOR Prologue: The Yiga and The Sheikah.

[bokettochild]

Febuwhump Day 18

@nancyheart11 you asked me for a Twilight Whump for this one, so I did my best! He wasn't talking, but it's a little tastier with the spice of another perspective >:)

I hope you enjoy!

Rating: Gen

Wordcount:

Summary: They talked about wandering off alone, but that doesn't exactly stop certain people (AKA Twilight) from not doing it again. Maybe Warriors is taking it too personally, but Mask's pup is giving him a headache. He just wants all his little brothers safe in one place, is that too much to ask?

(Note: I have not proof written this. My apologies, but half my keys aren't working, so typos are probably there.)

-

  They do not run off alone, they just don’t! It’s not so much a rule as something that everyone understands, so why in Hylia’s name is it still so hard for the others to actually do? Warriors resists the urge to hiss at himself; he is not Mask or Wild, he is not a feral little creature that can’t use his words, but by Hylia’s Wings does he wish he could get away with it sometimes! 

They’d talked about this! Not at length, and yes, his opinions had been very quickly dismissed in favor of discussing the ability of their enemy to shapeshift, but he’d expressed his disapproval with running off alone in the middle of a battle! 

But who really listens to him anyway? 

No, the captain stops in his tracks for a moment to shake off that thought, that’s not fair. Most of the other heroes listen. For Wind it’s second nature, and Time too, most days, listens without thinking about it. Even as an adult, the other respects his experience in leadership and knowledge of fighting and working with others. Four, even for his faults when it comes to actually working with and not simply around other people, still hears him out when he speaks. Sky and Hyrule both respect him for his title of knight and the work he’d put in to earn it, and even Legend, who despises soldiers, will respect his decisions and follow the plans he’s set. Yes, there's some disconnect, which is to be expected when working with a new team of people that aren’t accustomed to each other just yet, but they’re trying. Most of them are trying. 

Twilight and Wild are their own story. 

The captain’s teeth saw against each other as he ducks through the underbrush, following the faint trail left by big paws and the even bigger tracks of a moblin. How can a person be so determined to keep others in line and behaving, to keep others in the group safe and obeying the rules, and yet they themselves trod all over them? 

Granted, he is also currently separate from the group, wandering off alone, but he’s not the only one and everyone else knows what he’s doing. He’s tracking Twilight while the rest collect themselves and make camp. Wild had offered to do it, but after the last time, he just can’t trust the kid to actually come back; Wild’s proved where his loyalties lie, and it’s with the rancher, not their group. When asked to make the choice, they all know what it would be. 

He told the champion to stay. 

He doesn't know if he’ll be listened to, since that’s also the other point of struggle here, but he’s done all he can. He’s a good tracker, used to picking up the slightest sign of enemy activity, and his reasoning of being their current medic and thus the best choice in the case Twilight had gotten injured in some way, seems to be reason enough for most of the rest. There’s offers of course, to have someone go with him as backup, but looking over the tired men and boys in camp, he turns them all down. They need the rest, and time to recover from their own injuries and exhaustion. As a soldier, he’s been trained to push his limits, his exhaustion, his pain, his physical abilities, and ignore all barriers until his assignment is completed. The others may be heroes, ones who’ve faced odds that soldiers could never imagine, but they’re not likely to have experienced that sort of pressure and he wouldn’t want them to. 

They need their rest. He can get his once his duty is done. 

Now if only Twilight wouldn’t make it so hard by having wandered off to Nayru knows where! 

A hand drags through his hair, disrupting it, but it doesn’t matter. Yes, there’s a small voice that hisses to fix it, one that sounds a bit like Proxi, but these heroes care even less for how he looks on any given day than for what he says.  

Still being unfair, Link. They aren’t all bad. They’re good kids. 

Sure, they’d probably all take offence at being called kids but that’s what they are! The youngest are very young and even Time, their eldest, still looks to him through force of habit for guidance and aid. At most, he’d say the oldest most of them could be is twenty, early twenties for the rancher and skyloftian, but that’s still young enough to still be tripping over themselves in an effort to understand adulthood. They are, in his mind, still kids, and they’re mostly good ones, so he really can’t go lumping them all together as not giving a darn when they very much do. Not about his looks, thank Hylia, but about what he has to say? Most definitely. 

Again, it’s just Time’s pups who don’t. 

Goddesses, they take after their old man to an extreme level! It feels like just yesterday he was chasing down the little scamp, explaining the importance of comradery, of trust, of teamwork. Just yesterday, he was tilting brilliant blue eyes up to meet tired ones and asking, nearly begging, for the kid to please just give his way a chance. 

He sort of doubts such methods will work on his kid’s much older pup though.  

Twilight and Wild are similar in that they are stubborn, but they’re also much older than Mask had been, and neither is desperate for the stability the young boy had sought. They have Tie and each otehr, their own little bubble, separate from the rest of the heroes, and while both have an obvious respect for his skill, that’s about where their respect for him ends. They don’t look up to him, don’t admire him, don’t see him as anything more than another hero in their group, which is nice as far as not needing to babysit them goes. He’s glad that they don’t need him to keep an eye on them, that they’re stable enough mentally and in their perception of themselves that they don’t need someone else to support them, and if they do, they’ve already found that in each other. Still, having even the smallest of ways to get through to either of them would be nice. 

He’d thought that experience with the army would help connect him with the champion, that maybe a bond with Time could be something he could connect with the rancher about, but so far, no dice. 

His feet skid slightly on some leaves, bringing his attention back to the task at hand. Right, he needs to find Twilight. He can worry about driving home the idea of not running off alone when he’s sure the other is still alive. Granted, they didn’t see the black lizalfoes, or anything they think might have been another form of the beast, in this last battle, but it doesn’t take the most powerful of monsters to lay a hero low, especially if they don’t have anyone to watch their backs. 

The paw prints change to boot prints with the same seamlessness as they’d become paws at the beginning of the trail, and blood, crimson not black, spatters on the ground in an arc that indicates a swinging blade right where the moblin’s feet shift into a spin to face its pursuer. The trail of blood falls to the left of the trail, which means it could be delt by the left-handed hero or by the opposing monster, but considering the sudden turn, his money is on the rancher being the injured party here. 

By habit, his hand falls to his bag, assuring himself he’s got his med kit close at hand. 

By the three, these boys could save themselves so much pain if they just covered each others’ asses! Next time they get to the ranch or any place where they can stop for a little, he’s asking Time to help him arrange a training session for these kids. Maybe with their unofficial leader’s support, he can even get the two pups in on the session. As is, he’s sure Wind and four will be willing, and Sky will most definitely be his most valuable asset in teaching them. Good grief, whatever the Knights Academy on Skyloft is teaching, they're doing a great job, because that boy melds seamlessly in with whomever is closest to him!  

That may or may not be why he keeps close to the skyloftian, but who can blame him for wanting the assurance of having someone to watch his back when he’s so busy trying to keep an eye on all the others all the time? 

Twilight could have used the same, and blood specks along the trail as he goes. The steps become distorted, shuffling over each other in what’s clearly a break from the chase to fight. Here though, seven or eight paces from the initial blood spatter, more footprints join the mix. A bokoblin- no, two of them. The rancher’s steps disappear for a short moment, but with some looking around he finds them again. A flip or a throw landed him behind his foe, but he’s pushed back, heels dragging as they shuffle backwards into the woods as the enemy presses forwards against him. 

More tracks join the mix; an ambush. 

He grits his teeth, pushing forwards, ignoring, for the most part, the trail of the monsters in favor of following boot prints that press heavily to the dirt at the heel and toe, running, now pursued rather than the pursuer. The rancher will have known to try and limit the area of approach from his foes by darting into the trees. At best, he’d have circled around to pick them off from behind, but the prints don’t indicate as much. The speed of the different monster types will change have changed the tides of the fight though, with the bokoblins moving faster, prints fading out entirely as they likely fell and faded to miasma, leaving behind a moblin trail that continues, joined by more of its kind. He’d estimate at least three, maybe five of the creatures.  

Not great odds for one already injured rancher. 

He picks up his own pace. There’s no sounds of battle ahead or anywhere close by, not that he can hear. Granted, cannon fire in the war has definitely damaged his hearing enough that he could just be missing it, but he chooses to believe that there’s nothing, if only in the hope that Twilight will somehow be headed back along the trail towards him already, instead of being even further out, still in the middle of a fight. 

He doesn’t stumble across the rancher walking along the path though. No, he follows the fight, the footprints, trailing through the trees until there’s nowhere else to go. A wall of earth, steep enough to be a struggle to climb for anyone currently being chased, rises up and the footprints spin about to face those following after. He doesn’t keep track after that though, because the moment he sees fur and brass armor that catches the fading light, he knows his search is done. 

“There you are, rancher.” 

The urge to steal Time’s thunder and call the other man a pup- not with the affection of the now older man but with all the ire of its original connotation among his own people, is strong, but he resists. That would be considered out of line without context, and he doubts Twilight even knows the source of the nickname he so values from his mentor. 

Knowing it means a young person who’s annoying but not yet unbearable, yet, would probably kill some of that magic. 

So, he bites his tongue, keeps his impulses to himself, and moves to the side of the younger man, who’s currently slumped against a tree, breath strained but still there as dark eyes, a shade or so darker than Time’s own, flutter slightly with an effort to stay open. 

“Cap’n?” 

Darker or not, there’s definitely a lot of Time- of Mask, in the rancher’s face, and it makes staying mad with him a bit of a challenge when he’s looking so pathetic. “Got yourself in quite the situation, haven’t you,” he hums, kneeling at the younger’s side and taking his time with a once over. The rancher’s tunic has taken damage, but his concern is where crimson leaks from the tears, not where blades have slashed through only to be halted by chain mail. Yes, the bruising won’t be fun, but his concern is something he can fix, anything that Twilight will actually need help with. 

There’s a wince from the other. “Not my intent.” 

“Never is,” he unclips the bag from his belt, eyes falling on a nasty looking gash just below the cut off of the chainmail’s sleeves. There are some light scratches over browned features and an injury to the leg that leaks slowly into the earth below, but the rancher’s armor looks to have done its job well.  

“The others?” 

“Fine.” He keeps his attention on slipping the bracer from his brother’s arm, on unbuckling and sliding away the leather, the underlying glove, and then rolling up the sleeve to get at the injury he needs to treat. Wound care fills his mind, not answers, not talking. That can come once he’s assured that the other is alright. Much as the man drives him mad, he’s still Time’s kid, and still a fellow hero, still a brother, still someone who doesn’t deserve to suffer just because he’s particularly good at being stupid and reckless. 

“Wild?” 

“Fine.” He repeats, sucking in his cheeks as he sees the damage done without fabric blocking the way. Claws do so much more damage than blades, and the chances of infection are higher too. Not as much as with bites, but it’s still not preferrable. 

“The kids?” 

He huffs, turning to grab for his kit, looking for anything he might have to quickly clean the wound. “You’d know if you didn’t run away mid battle.” 

Hurt crosses sloping features briefly, not for the prodding at the wound site, but from his sharp tongue. Regret stirs briefly at his heart, but like his ire, he pushes it down to keep his head clear and his mind focused on his work as their team’s current medic. 

“Yer upset.” 

The urge to tell the kid ‘no shit’ is very strong, but he bottles up that too. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the wound, on wiping it down and looking for anything that might have gotten into the cut.  

Twilight’s ears flick back, not appreciating having his words ignored. If there’s one thing the rancher is accustomed to, it’s answers when he speaks. Wild always answers, Time too even if it’s not verbal, and the younger ones always respond to. Being met with silence, both verbally and in body language, must be new to him. “Did somethin’ happen?” And when he still doesn't answer, “Wars, what’s goin’ on?” 

“They’re fine, now hush.” It’s a deep cut. Not as bad as the axe wound, but not light by any means either, and it will need stitches. He keeps his needles in a bottle, clean and ready for use, for this reason. Mask used to fuss that it was a waste of a good bottle, and the thought lightens his heart just slightly as he pulls it out and grabs the needed supplies to close the wound in the rancher’s arm.  

“No, Wars-” there’s a straining from the body beneath his hands, but Twilight doesn’t successfully pull himself up, and his face flashes white for a moment before he slumps again. It seems the mighty rancher has spent all his strength in fighting alone, nothing left to use to so much as sit up by himself. 

“Stay still,” he sighs, pushing down, entirely unnecessarily, against a shoulder. It’s for the sake of the man’s pride, he tells himself, to pretend to play along that twilight can get up on his own right now. “Let me work.” 

Work and bottle up his frustrations enough that he can talk afterwards. 

Twilight, however, has no such intentions of likewise staying silent. “Captain, what’s goin’ on?” 

“I said stay still.” 

“Are they hurt?” Blue eyes bleed worry, the same desperation his mentor used to let slip, sometimes still does when it’s his pup in trouble or hurt. “What happened?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Why are you actin’ like this then?” 

The urge to growl again rises, and again he shoves it down with pursed lips and clenched teeth, focusing his energy on starting the stitches and hoping the pain of them will be enough to distract the younger man from his line of questioning. It doesn’t work though. 

“Wars?” 

“Twilight,” his voice snaps without his allowing it, eyes flicking up to meet midnight blue, “I’m trying to focus. Stitches aren’t easy, believe it or not.” 

They’re familiar and he’s done more stitches in his life through human flesh and zora scales than his baby sisters have in their needlework projects that Maither gives them. He won’t admit that though, not if it gives him an out from having to talk. Honestly, some days, he really misses having Proxi around to speak for him when he’s stressed. She was always much better at that sort of thing than he was. 

Twilight falls quiet at his words though, but he still feels those eyes fixed on him, searching his face even as their gaze is broken with a flinch or a huff of pain as the needle pressed through flesh and pulls the two edges of the cut together. He has to stop a few times to dab away blood and clear the area for the next stitch, but he’s quick about his work. In and out, twisting the thread together to close the wound, moving on to the next stitch and watching as the flesh pulls together again over where blood leaks out. 

He's done before he’s ready to talk again, but bandaging is something they’ve all done, and he can’t say that actually takes so much focus as to stop him talking, and Twilight knows it, already pressing again with the questions. “Wars-” 

A scoff escapes, puffing hair out of his eyes to clear them, even though having it to hide behind would be much more preferable. “You really are Time’s pup, aren’tcha?” 

A tick. “What does that mean?” 

He ties off the ends of the linen wrap, tight enough to hold but not so much as to cut off circulation. “You’re a worrier and a fuss pot.” 

Heavy brows crease in answer, but Twilight doesn’t actually have a foot to stand on when it comes to opposing his words. Instead, the rancher just stares at him, waiting until Warriors turns his attention to the injured leg, arm finished. 

It’s only once he’s gotten a start on treating the cut there (this time from a blade) that the rancher’s voice rises again, guarded and wary. “You’re mad at me,” 

He doesn’t answer. 

Rather than guess why, Twilight pushes ahead. “I couldn’t let that moblin escape. We don’t know what’s out here, and letting it terrorize a village jist wouldn’t do. You know that, Wars.” When there’s no answer though, the country accent keeps rolling, pitching slightly, straining. “There was a whole ‘nother camp out here, one that might have attacked us in the night!” And then, when still no answer sounds from his lips, “You would have done the same.” 

“I would not.” He clips, snipping his thread and briefly glancing over at wide eyes. “I would have attended to my men and then pursued the enemy when we, as a team, were capable of doing so Wandering off on my own is what nearly lost us the war. So, as a rule, I won’t be doing that again unless I absolutely must.”  

That shuts the rancher up, recognition dawning in midnight eyes that falter and fall as he turns his attention back to tending wounds.  

There’s no more pushing done by either party, and it’s quiet as he works save the hisses and hitches of the younger man’s breath in pain as stitches are laid and bandages wrapped. That done though, the quite is almost overwhelming, even to him, and he finds himself sighing at it, crouching before his pup’s pup and resisting, with a lot of effort, the urge to hook a finger under the other's chin and lift that gaze to meet his own, like he’d done with his own kid what feels like only yesterday. Instead, he keeps his hands to himself, but gentles his gaze all the same. It’s not that hard, not when faced with familiar features drawn up in a soft scowl that, were it Mask, he’d teasingly call a pout. “I’m not mad,” a disbelieving look meets his own at the words, but he pushes his tone a bit firmer with the next ones. “I’m frustrated, but we can work over that later, preferably after we’ve all had dinner and some rest. For now, we should head back to the others, before your cub starts thinking we’ve dropped off the face of the world or something.” 

A furrow forms between dark brows, too sharp teeth, wolf teeth he muses to himself, gnawing at the other's cheek lining. It’s a bad habit, and he’s sure the man knows it, but he doesn’t correct it. That’s not his place. 

He can guess what’s troubling Twilight though. “Can you stand?” 

A huff, a little smile that’s flustered enough he can guess the answer. “Not really.” 

He knew it. He doesn’t hold it against the other though, instead, shifting to kneeling at the man’s side, shuffling about as he must before giving a waring of his intent. “I’ll carry you then.” 

Alarm flashes clear as day over the rancher’s face. “Cap, I don’t-” 

“I’m stronger than I look,” he assures, although it doesn’t seem to do any good. No doubt, twilight’s staring at his slighter frame and remembering his own bulk, but honestly, he’d served for years in the army. If he couldn’t haul an injured soldier any distance, he wouldn’t be worth the rupees he earns. 

Getting Twilight up on his back with no help from the weakened rancher or anyone else is a bit of a mess, and there’s some slipping and struggle which the rancher no doubt sees as proof that this is no good, but despite protests, he keeps at it until the other is slung over his back. Twilight is heavy, much more so than the other boys would be, but it’s not his first time hauling an Ordonian to safety, and the bulk of his brother just means he moves a bit slower than he would otherwise. 

Twilight’s grip around his neck is weaker than is ideal, but in the long run, it’s probably better that way, because it means his breath doesn't get cut off as he heads back to camp. 

Like he said, once they’re there, when they’ve had something to eat, and probably after the rancher downs a potion from his cub’s bag, they’ll need to talk. This time, he will not accept having them change the subject or redirect. This time they will discuss going off alone. 

After though. After they’ve had time to catch their breath. And he supposes, shaking his head, after Twilight wakes up again from the doze he’s apparently fallen into. 

Good grief, the man even snores as loud as his mentor! 

[occasionallyprosie]

"Hiding Behind Plaster and Ceremics"

Chapter 1

Legend had one job the second time he was dragged on a quest that involved time travel and ancestors, and the second time a quest involved meeting other heroes: Don't get attached. Thankfully, the other heroes seemed to believe the mask he wore, and most of them didn't bother with him as a result except to argue, especially Twilight and Warriors. Now, if only someone could tell the kid behind the mask to stop reaching out to the brothers he lost after Hytopia, that would be great. And if they could stop the frigid downpour so Legend wouldn't get even sicker, that would also be great.

Febuwhump 2024 | Prompt 13: "You weren't supposed to get hurt"

Next>>

Event Masterlist

Read On AO3 Warnings: mild swearing

Legend knew the role he was playing.

His whole life was just one role after another, his main one of "the hero" constantly being reprised, but changing with each installment.

His first casting, he had been a terrified child, doing his best, trying to fulfill his uncle's last words. His second, he was an excited, bubbly child gaining two older brothers who shared separate yet similar pasts. His third was a kid with too big a heart and a burn to protect, giving everything he had including the clothes on his back to a dimension traveler who helped him in turn. His fourth and fifth was of a kid in a new land, wearing his heart on his sleeve, helping everyone he met even when it burned him. His sixth was the turning point for his role, he began it as the sweet kid and ended it heartbroken and begging to never feel such pain again.

His seventh was starring him as a broken teenager doing everything he could to fix things, to do the right thing and help people, without getting attached and heartbroken again.

Like any other tragedy, that teenager failed in the end and Ravio went back to Lorule, their worlds closing.

The next reprisal, lucky number eight, was of a slightly older teenager who was determined to get through this without opening his heart to a single soul, even if it hurt those around him.

So that's the role Legend played. He was the hoarder, but he coveted items and people were a danger to those belongings, he was the scholar, providing information to those who asked, who found solace in books and scrolls, and he was the veteran, tired and done with the lives they led.

The longer it went on, the harder it was for Legend to suppress that terrified child who just wanted to help out. The longer it went on, his mask was trying to crack from overuse.

It's a shame for that mask that he was a hoarder and always had something to hold it back together.

It was also a shame for the excited, bubbly child inside to watch as his older brothers failed to even recognize him with the mask he wore and the many new years he bore.

Legend recognized Ocean and Forest immediately, the moment his eyes landed on them, he knew who they were. Ocean hadn't changed much, but Forest was taller, bigger, more muscular and he had face tattoos interestingly enough.

He met their eyes and saw not a flicker of recognition appear in theirs, he supposed that was fair, he looked different and he had changed. He'd be surprised if they figured him out by anything but the fact he wore the same tunic.

They went weeks into this adventures, Legend doing whatever he thought helped him maintain that distance, strengthen that wall, that kept the other heroes out of reach of his internal child and kept his heart safe.

He couldn't do Ravio again, or, he supposed, this was more like Raven all over again. He refused to do that again.

But that child really wanted out, it was begging to be released, to call out to the two heroes he once called brothers.

No, Legend reminded himself. They don’t even remember us.

So he shut up and kept to his corner, he stitched and bandaged his own wounds and snarled at anyone who dared to approach. Especially the ones who he knew he would trust easier--the Sailor, the Rancher, the Traveler, and the Skyloftian.

Legend was sick. He knew he was and he blamed that cold storm they'd got caught in not two days ago for it. When they'd made camp, most of them bundled by the fire but Legend had stuffed himself away out of stubbornness and pride, using his fire rod for heat and wrapping an extra blanket around his soaked self.

He wasn't surprised by the turn of events, but he wasn't certain how to approach it.

Clearly, as they walked and he focused hard on keeping steady steps and maintaining pace with the others that he'd missed the entirety of Wind's story, he wasn't great. He usually listened, even if he feigned otherwise, it was a good distraction and he liked stories. It was the only thing he granted to himself, listening to Ocean ramble on about events he'd already heard the stories of. Now he was struggling and normally he would've stayed in the cave from the other day or even backtracked to it to rest and maintain a safe space, but that wasn't much of an option.

The cold of Warriors' Hebra region was piercing, and darkened clouds still rolled overhead but didn't open for much more than a sprinkle. Though humid, all the humidity did was prevent their clothes from drying, it didn't further soak them. Frankly he preferred the cold storm over a blistering, tropical hot storm.

But goddesses, he needed to take a break or he'd pass out and he didn't know how to say that. His mask was cracking, he knew it, and he was running out of energy to fix it while also trying not to stumble and fall in the mud.

To his luck, Sky called for a break, explaining the wet air was getting to his high altitude lungs. Legend didn't bother trying to understand that, which was rather telling. Instead he followed to the side they'd went to and tucked himself under a tree, letting his eyes shut and block out the painful, headache-inducing light.

Too soon, someone called to him.

"Hey Hoarder, get off your ass and let's go," Warriors snapped at him.

Legend dragged up his energy to shoot a glare at the knight. "You'd know all about sitting back on your ass, wouldn't you, soldier boy?" He snarled, pushing off the tree. The rest was helpful, but not sufficient. He really hoped he wasn't assigned a watch tonight, he wouldn't stay awake.

"One of these days, you’re going to get what's coming to you and that goddess-awful attitude," Warriors warned him.

Legend rolled his eyes. "Whatever comes for me for "this attitude" is going to get the exact same treatment as everything else that has come for me. A sword through its heart."

"Oh right, how could I forget, the Hoarder just kills everything that comes near him," Warriors spat.

Twilight got between them, shoving his way in and accidentally helping Legend hide the flinch that broke through from Warriors' words.

"Alrigh', that's enough. We have a lot of ground to cover and not enough patience to deal with you two."

Legend scoffed and he trudged off after the others who had already began to leave them, probably at Twilight's suggestion and Time's agreement. His boots threatened to get stuck in the mud and he feared his dwindling strength would have him unable to pull them from the sucking sludge, but he had the strength for now.

He heard Twilight mutter to Warriors. "Look, yer not wrong, the Scholar's f'r sure quick t'fight an' his whole personality leaves much to be desired, but none of us wanna listen t'ya two hurlin' insults no matter how much truth is with them."

Warriors groaned lowly. "You better not even try to lecture me, Rancher. I won't start a fight, but I'm not going to just take it."

Twilight backed off, surprisingly. Those two were at each other's throats just as often as Legend was with either of them.

The bubbly kid held back a sob hearing Twilight's--Forest's-- words. Legend trudged through the mud and plastered over the crack in his mask.

He wouldn't let them see how much that hurt.

He didn't kill everyone who came near him, he thought to himself pleadingly. Then names flickered through his mind and the plaster cracked too.

He was too exhausted from the growing fever to actually try and fix it back, it began to pour again and he had to keep moving.

Keep going, Link. He told himself. Keep going, then when they finally say stop we can rest. It'll be fine, just hold out a little while longer... please.

They couldn't make camp early enough. Hyrule found a cave again and Legend went as deep as he could until Time told him to not go that far. He came a bit closer and rolled out his bedroll.

He tucked his two fire rods in the blankets, then promptly collapsed, ignoring the others set up their camp.

He never usually helped, helping meant interacting and interacting risked attachment.

He wouldn't risk getting attached. He just had to hope the heat of the fire rods and the blankets would burn out his growing fever before dawn. With their chatter, they didn't seem to hear him down a health potion before passing out without dinner.

Dawn came and he felt no better, but he wasn't worse. It took way too much energy to get up when he heard the others rousing, it took too much focus to realize the sounds he heard was the others rousing.

He dragged himself to his feet, packed his things away and pulled on his mud covered boots. Nobody bothered him aside waiting at the entrance until they were all gathered, him included, to leave. Sky, as usual, greeted him with a good morning and Hyrule tried to fall into step with him, but a glare and a snap had the other hero retreating to Wild reluctantly.

It was raining the moment they left and continued to rain throughout the whole time.

He wasn't the only one slipping and stumbling through the mud, Four was struggling bad, as was Wind and Sky. Wild seemed to stumble but had a certain step of understanding, like he'd had to do this before, and Hyrule was similar though struggling far more. The three tall heroes, Time, Twilight, and Warriors, still slipped a bit but the knee deep mud for Legend was only halfway up their shins.

He lost his battle with the sickness and he nearly fell, barely catching himself and kneeling.

Distantly, he was aware of someone calling for him to keep moving over the roar of the heavy downpour.

He couldn't stand. His vision was bad and his body was trying to give out. He couldn't stand. He couldn't hardly move.

Come on, Link. Just a couple more hours, you've made it through worse!

Except the worse was fighting Ganon with an infection blossoming. Except the worse had adrenaline pumping through his veins and Raven at his side to help out. Except right now, one step took as much energy as a whole spin attack back then.

He had to stop. He had to breathe--

A hand landed on his shoulder and he flinched, but it tightened before he could fall back.

"Hoarder. Get up," Warriors ordered and it sounded like he was underwater. "There's no way with how much you slept you’re this tired, even the Skyloftian and the Sailor are handling."

Legend wheezed softly. He knew that. He knew he had to stand.

His body wouldn't cooperate, but he managed to smack Warriors' hand away and push against his knees to painstakingly stand.

The blur of green moved away, Warriors going on ahead. He tried to drag a foot ahead again but collapsed again. This time falling face first into the mud was a near thing, only barely avoiding such a fate.

Stand, damnit! He wanted to cry. He couldn't get his body to move, he couldn't find safety. This was why he took sanctuary whenever he got sick, so he wouldn't be a sitting duck.

He hated this. He hated it all. He hated them, those damned heroes, their stupid, stupid idea of correct and good. He hated everyone who left him, everyone who'd abandoned him. He hated himself for being so damned soft and attaching himself way too easily to others.

It wasn't supposed to hurt. Loving people wasn't supposed to hurt. He wasn't supposed to get hurt for caring.

Yet here he was, close to tears because he couldn't stand. Because he couldn't admit to weakness, because being weak meant needing help, and needing help meant letting people come close.

And he was too soft, to quick to care, to let anyone come close and not get attached. He couldn't get attached again, he couldn't lose someone again.

He glanced up briefly, just enough to know none of the blurs were approaching and were in fact moving away. He shakily took out a green potion, took way too long to uncap it and drink some, and used the forced energy to stand again and keep moving.

He'd never had to drink a green potion to keep moving before, but as it turned out, this whole quest was just a mess of "do this" so they wouldn't notice him, so they wouldn't get close, so he wouldn't get attached.

Goddesses, being alone wasn't supposed to hurt.

Legend genuinely didn't know how he made it through that day, but what he did know was that he wasn't getting up from where he had collapsed in the wet cave they'd once again made camp within.

He pressed his burning head against the cold stone and just let out a shuddering breath, eyes slipping shut and staying shut. He had made it to the back of the cave again and Time hadn't yet made him move closer.

He just needed to rest. He had to rest. His whole body ached, his insides twisted, and nausea rolled in his stomach and wound around his throat. He could hardly inhale through his mouth without wanting to throw up, but he couldn't breathe through his nose either, so this was what he had to deal with. He didn't even try with getting out a blanket or his fire rods for some heat, just curled up and hoped to the goddesses it passed tonight because he wasn't getting up until it was.

He slipped asleep quickly, but was startled back awake.

A haze settled over his mind but that didn't prevent the world from shaking and then someone grabbing him, or maybe it was the other way around and the grabbing shook him? He didn't know.

All he knew was that the light of the fire was gone, his body hurt, and he had been tackled or something by someone.

There was talking--no, yelling but he couldn't bring himself to actually process the words.

He just blinked dazedly up at the darkness and the barely-visible silhouette above him, they were shaking him. His brain rattled in his skull and the shaking grew painful fast.

"--t! Link! Come on, wake up--"

He whimpered. "St'p... 'urts."

"Oh. Link, hey--" cool hands brushed his face and he inhaled sharply, only to exhale softly. The coolness pulled away fast and he whined at the loss. "Oh Ordona, yer burning up."

The cool hand returned and he managed to lean into it.

"Sweet Ordona, Link, how long have you been sick?" They said, and the sound echoed almost painfully. He tried to curl back up into the ball he had been in before he'd been disturbed.

He slipped back asleep, finally just resting, finally letting the exhaustion take hold.

They'd made camp in a cave again, and Twilight was a bit relieved by that. He was tired of the rain and mud, the hard rock walls was a boon.

They'd made a fire, Wild was just beginning to start it when the ground trembled.

"The ceiling's caving in!" Four yelped, his eyes flashing purple. How he knew that, Twilight really didn't need to know nor did he care to.

They all moved fast, but Twilight spotted Legend still unmoving and curled up deeper into the cave.

"COLLECTOR MOVE!" Hyrule screamed, clearly having seen the same.

The cave ceiling began to break. Twilight ran and he managed to pull Legend deeper into the cave as the ceiling in the area they'd begun camp in collapsed.

Thankfully, the cave in ended far enough back that Twilight got them far enough away. He just had to hope the others got out on the other side.

To his absolute surprise, Legend had barely startled at the tackle and was currently limp beside him. Twilight's night vision was improved due to being attuned to his wolf form, but it was not perfect.

Legend's eyes fluttered open part way, half lidded and looking dazedly.

"Collector?" Twilight prompted, hoping the other hero didn't have a concussion. "Collector!" He called again when he didn't even respond, shaking his shoulder. "Link! Come on, wake up--"

A whimper, an actual whimper escaped the other hero and Twilight faltered as he heard the quiet plea for it to stop, that it hurt.

"Oh. Link, hey--" Twilight tried to move his bangs to check his eyes, to look for a concussion, but the skin he felt was far too hot for the frigid caves and storms they've been in for the past three days. He'd jerked away from the unexpected heat on instinct before it set in what was going on.

Suddenly it made sense, how quiet Legend had been the past couple days, the way he had struggled to keep up and stand. Twilight had taken it as just having a restless night and being tired, he'd clearly been exhausted the other day with how quickly he'd gone to sleep and he wouldn't have been surprised if he'd been caught unable to fully rest with how soaking wet and cold it had been. However this just... Why didn't he expect someone to get sick with how cold and wet it's been?

"Oh Ordona, yer burning up," he breathed. He placed his hand on Legend's forehead and the collector leaned into it. "Sweet Ordona, Link, how long have you been sick?"

He watched Legend's eyes slip shut and then not open. He'd passed out, oh that was not good.

Twilight tug the smaller hero closer and picked him up. He... He never realized how small Legend was until he had the Scholar curled up in his arms, shaking like a leaf and whimpering.

He delved deeper into the cave, hoping for an escape or at least for the cave to get warmer.

Light Spirits, was he so blind by his own judgment and dislike of a person as to not notice them get so sick they had struggled to stand?

He didn't find an exit but did find an underground river but a dry shore, probably a lot higher of a shore than it normally was considering the amount of rainfall. He managed to set out enough blankets, decently dry, that he thought he could bundle the collector up.

Muttering an apology, he stripped Legend of his soaked clothes, leaving his shorts, and wrapped him tight in four dry blankets. He did take the time to try and clean both their boots of mud, but was careful with Legend's precious Pegasus boots, he knew the Hoarder would kill him if he messed any of his items up.

Then he settled on the dry rock, Legend's bundled form in his arms as he tried to provide what heat he could to lessen the amount of shivering the other hero was doing.

He let himself fall asleep at some point, only to wake up a few hours later with an inkling of light above.

He looked up and there turned out to be an opening in the ceiling, rainwater a steady trickle into the cavern. From what he could tell, he could probably hookshot out, but definitely not with Legend.

So he waited.

Legend was remarkably warmer but he woke up, with the light Twilight could actually see his glassy red eyes fill with confusion.

"Where..."

"It's alright," he murmured on instinct, if Legend was more coherent he probably would've been hit. But as it stood, he had someone small and sick in his arms so he acted instinctively, pulling them closer and promising safety. "It'll be alright, just rest, kid. I got you."

Legend twisted a bit, dazed and distant eyes settling on his face. He frowned, and Twilight was struck by how much younger Legend looked when he wasn't glaring and snarling at anyone who neared like an injured animal.

"Oh..." he muttered and he went limp again, curling willingly into Twilight's chest. "It 'urts," he mumbled and Twilight felt his heart constrict.

"I know," he promised. How sick was he? Why didn't he say anything? Was it out of pride? "It'll be alright."

"Where's Ocea'?" The hero in his arms asked and Twilight froze.

Oh goddesses no.

"Apple?" Twilight croaked.

"Mm... yea?"

No, no, no.

"F'rest?" he called, voice weak, and Twilight struggled to breathe out a response.

Legend hummed. "M...M'kay."

No. Twilight felt his blood run cold, his heart beat too fast and too hard, because suddenly everything went extremely wrong. Legend --the group's Collector and Scholar, the harsh, rude, snappy, violent one who had nearly bit Hyrule's head off only that morning-- was Apple, the kid that had broken his leg in Hytopia after slipping off a roof that he'd climbed on a whim. The nine year old kid who sang songs, hummed tunes, who fooled around while Twilight and a younger Wind who they nicknamed "Ocean" did the walking. The same kid who earned his keep and, when given the chance by the two older heroes, absolutely slaughtered any monster in his path so long as he had a blade and a magic rod in his hands.

Legend, the distant, snarling, cold, bully of a hero... was his sweet little brother. Legend was the same kid that had asked Lady Maud nicely to not make Styla wear clothes she didn't like, because he said it was mean to make people do things they didn't like even if someone else was doing something to you that you didn't like. That kid was Legend?

For a moment, Twilight couldn't believe it. There was no way that Legend could be Apple.

Then, he looked at the hero in his arms and the fact he had to be at least ten years older had probably embarked on a third quest after Hytopia...

Twilight's own quest changed him for the better, he'd been a prideful brat of a teenager and became... well he wasn't sure, but he hoped he was a better person now. So who was to say Legend's didn't turn him from a bright kid to a violent and harsh man.

"You weren't supposed to get hurt," Twilight croaked. "You were supposed to go home and be happy."

Legend didn't respond, after all, the collector was out cold. He couldn't give Twilight any explanation for why he was so jaded and... and so angry, why he was so harsh.

"You weren't supposed to get hurt," Twilight repeated weakly, because that sweet, bright little kid was supposed to go home to that aunt he spoke the world of and be happy, not go on another adventure or whatever had happened that turned him into this... broken, cold, harsh hero.

Next>>

[thepinklink]

Febuwhump is upon us!

And SURPRISE!! This year, me and the incredible @skyward-floored are collaborating!!! :D!!

Peggy is writing for Febuwhump, and I’ll be drawing a scene from each day that she writes!

Please go read her amazing work right here!! :33333

Febuwhump Day 1: Helpless

[cutthroatcarnival]

Febuwhump Day 8: “Why Won’t It Stop?”

Tags/Warnings: None (?)

Warriors gets cursed to feel all the pain his fallen comrades faced. Sky and Twilight try to comfort him while attempting to hold themselves together.

Read it on AO3!

Captain’s Bane

Twilight nursed his jaw- it was likely bruised, the captain packed quite a punch- as he shared a helpless look with Sky, the Skyloftian equally as lost, torn between staying with him or aiding the rancher.

Warriors had collapsed after the battle. He hadn’t been hurt, not physically, but when Hyrule had checked him, he reported the presence of dark magic on him. They had gathered around the fallen captain in a panic before Time had called on them, entrusting Warriors to Sky and Twilight, as they followed the direction the enemy fled.

He had been expecting something like a sleeping curse, or one that would render him unconscious for a while, but not this. Sky had remained at the captain’s side, luckily managing to avoid the swings, and Twilight? Not so much.

Scooting closer to Warriors, more towards his head, Twilight sighed, feeling utterly useless as his brother writhed on the ground, clutching and scratching at his neck. His voice had gone hoarse from all the screaming, now expressing everything through anguished whines that thoroughly broke their hearts- never had they heard Warriors, the level-headed and steadfast captain, this vulnerable.

Warriors had gone still again, and on the dot, Sky swooped in, pressing his fingers against his wrist, sighing and hanging his head in poorly concealed relief- just another lull in whatever was happening. Twilight pet the war hero’s hair, pushing back the sweat-slicked strands carefully, purposefully ignoring the way his hands shook.

Curses weren’t fun, he understood that at the very least. His definitely hadn’t been at the start, but it had gotten better as Twilight lived with it, growing with it, learning with it, and wholeheartedly trusting the wolf that resided as part of his very being. These were on two separate ends of curses- Warriors laid on the malicious side, the one he was afflicted with purposefully casted to cause suffering. Twilight’s was a byproduct of his original transformation under Twili influence, a rather necessary curse to save two realms from crumbling.

A hoarse scream wrenched him out of his thoughts, his attention snapping to Warriors, whose eyes had opened. Twilight could tell he wasn’t completely there, his eyes were hazy. He nearly bumped heads with Sky as they leaned over the captain. Pain-riddled eyes met their’s, tears slowly sliding down.

“Why won’t it stop? I didn’t mean for them to die.” His voice was raw, both from screaming and unconscious emotion, every word spoken with such immense sorrow.

He could hear Sky heave a shuddering breath, clearing his throat to fight against the urge to cry, and he himself wasn’t faring any better, staring at Warriors- whose eyes had drooped shut- feeling his heart shatter into pieces. The lull had ceased, as the captain began writhing and twisting again, legs flailing as if trying to kick someone away- or run away- arms wrapped around his ribs, curling slightly with a whine.

The others needed to find that curser soon, and find them quick. Sweet Ordona, he didn’t know how much Warriors could handle. Sky was close to breaking, the other hero mumbling under his breath what sounded like counting, staying vigilant by the captain’s head. And Twilight could only stare. This wasn’t something that could be fixed with words and hugs- not until much later, that is- and he felt helpless. His chest ached at every small noise the captain made.

He joined the skyward knight at Warriors’ head, pressing their shoulders together. Ordona, hear his pleas, and let their presences be enough for their brother.

[silvrash-797]

I think I'm having a bit too much fun with the dialogue for this Febuwhump prompt. Sassy exasperated Wind my beloved

“Wars chose us specifically to find Time,” Twilight reminded him. “Oh, right. The protégé, the Godslayer, the Veteran, and the kid.” “I’m not a kid, Leg!” Wind protested. “For your information, I know why Wars was worried about needing a Godslayer.”

[arecaceae175]

another one

From the fic Febuwhump chapter 27: Assumed Dead

I'm afraid this picture is too sadistic? cruel? If you don't like it/it doesn't suit your fic, please just delete this message.

OOHOHOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHHHHHH

WOW THIS ONE IS ALSO GOOD!!!!! OH IT HURTS BUT IN A GOOD WAY!!!!! I WILL ADD BOTH!!!!!!!!!!

AHDHFJWJJDKWKSNDNWAO AGAIN I’M SO HONORED!!????!??!?!? Thank you so much for making and sharing these arts with me!!!!!

[skyward-floored]

Febuwhump collab alt day - “I love you”

And here’s the last febuwhump fic (...on the 27 of March lol. what can I say, I get easily distracted).

This one was suggested by @webhead3345, and it’s really more hurt/comfort then anything, but after the last one some comfort is probably nice XD I hope you enjoy it!

And thanks to everyone who suggested characters/prompts for these! I appreciate you all so much <3

Today’s lovely art

Ao3 link

——————————————————————————————————

Having six kids could be a challenge sometimes, Malon was willing to admit.

It would be difficult enough normally, but with five of them having superpowers, two being adopted, and all of them rambunctious boys who sometimes forgot their house was on the small side... it could be a lot sometimes.

But Malon always did her best, and Time along with her. Even when it got overwhelming, even when they disagreed, even through the sleepless nights and stress and fear and countless other worries from essentially living underground, they both tried their hardest to raise their kids well, and keep them safe and happy. Malon could only hope they were succeeding.

Especially in regards to their two adopted boys.

Hyrule and Wild had both been through such awful things, both due to factors they couldn’t control. It wasn’t always obvious, and they were both so strong for their ages, but sometimes the scars that had been left on them both reared their ugly heads, and one or the both of them would fall apart for a bit.

Malon always tried to pay attention and help when one or the other of them was stuck in a bad period. She had plenty of practice with Wild, and usually knew how to comfort him, but Hyrule could be a bit of a mystery still. She was still figuring out what tended to set him off, how he acted when he was upset, how his reactions tended to differ from Wild’s, and most of all, how to help.

And at the moment, she was at a bit of a loss as to what to do.

Hyrule had been acting quieter then normal recently, fading to the background of the typical chaos his brothers brought with them. He mostly just nodded if someone asked him something, and seemed a little more distant, taking longer to respond to things, and keeping to himself.

Malon wouldn’t have worried too much about most of that, but then she noticed the shadowed circles appear under his eyes, ones that only seemed to get darker with every passing day. It soon became obvious Hyrule wasn’t getting nearly enough sleep with the way he began to stumble around, and Malon’s worry doubled.

And then Wild started to act in a similar way, unusually quiet and withdrawn, tired-looking and cranky, and that really got her worried.

Malon just wasn’t sure how to go about getting to the root of the problem. Wild and Hyrule were both tight-lipped when things bothered them, and got defensive if pushed, and Malon knew a direct confrontation could be disastrous. She’d tried some light prodding, but hadn’t been successful in the slightest.

She could guess what it was that was bothering the two of course, and had a pretty good idea of what it might be, but she also didn’t want to assume and end up making things worse. Time didn’t have any ideas either when she discussed the problem with him, but he’d been swamped at work lately, and was barely thinking straight.

So Malon was left to try and figure out the problem mostly by herself, her worry growing by the day.

It finally reached the point where it was affecting her own sleep, and Malon found herself startled awake late one night after a week had gone by from the start of her sons’ odd behavior, and found herself completely unable to fall back asleep.

Time was snoring softly beside her, and Malon laid there for a while, trying to let the sound lull her back to sleep. She didn’t have any luck though, her brain too full, her mind too awake. She finally sighed, getting nowhere, and carefully slipped out of bed and pulled on her bathrobe. She made sure not to disturb Time at all, then walked down to the kitchen to try making herself a cup of tea.

The kettle didn’t take long to heat, and Malon yawned as she set her tea to steeping, walking into the living room with it to sit and wait for it to finish.

Then stopped in her tracks, realizing she wasn’t alone.

Malon hadn’t noticed on her way in, but there were two odd lumps huddled on the couch, both quiet and still. She stepped closer to study them, and realized one was Hyrule, wrapped tight in a blanket and staring silently at the ground.

He wasn’t the only there either, but whoever it was beside him was bundled up so tightly that Malon had no idea who it even was.

She could certainly guess though.

Worry crested over her, and she set down her cup, walking forward and shuffling her feet just a little to make sure Hyrule heard her coming. He startled a little anyway when he noticed her, but didn’t shield or run, just went back to staring at the floor.

The lump next to him shifted a little, and Malon saw a strand of long blond hair fall free of the blanket.

“Hyrule? Wild?” she asked gently, and Hyrule swallowed, wiping his sleeve across his eyes. Wild didn’t move. “It’s awful late you two, what are you doing down here?”

Hyrule didn’t look at her.

“Sorry, it’s nothing,” he whispered.

“If it was nothing, you both wouldn’t be out here and not in your beds,” Malon gently pointed out, sitting down on the couch beside them both. “What’s eatin’ you?”

Hyrule kept looking at his feet, a few sniffles escaping him.

“I-I, we just can’t sleep,” he whispered, not meeting her eyes. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Malon asked gently. Hyrule gave her a tiny shrug. “Well... is there a particular reason you two can’t sleep?”

Hyrule went silent.

The lump at his side shifted, and Wild poked his head out, Hyrule moving so he was more tucked against his side then before.

“...bad dreams,” Wild whispered after a few minutes, voice shaky. “‘Rulie too.”

Malon’s heart sank.

“Both of you?” she asked worriedly, and Wild nodded, rubbing at the shadows under his eyes.

“Sorry,” Hyrule whispered even more quietly.

“Honey, you don’t need to apologize,” Malon said, and turned so she could meet his eyes. “Neither of you do, it’s okay. Do you want to talk about them?” she asked in a softer voice.

Wild shook his head, and Hyrule shrank down in his blanket.

“No.”

Worry prickled at her, but Malon nodded, and didn’t say anything for a moment, Hyrule still letting out an occasional sniffle. Wild shifted where he was curled up again, and somehow he and Hyrule ended up snuggled against Malon, Wild’s head in her lap, Hyrule’s resting on her arm.

A shuddering sigh escaped Wild, and Malon ran a hand over his head, fingers ghosting past his scars.

She let out a quiet sigh of her own, looking at them both. She’d finally gotten the answer to what was bothering them (and had been bothering them), but she felt no better knowing the reason.

The nightmares must have been especially bad as of late.

Malon adjusted Hyrule’s blanket, continuing to run her hand over Wild’s head. She dearly wished she she could take away what was troubling them both, and let them get a full night’s sleep for once, but unfortunately that wasn’t a power she possessed.

Malon wished it all the same though.

Hyrule sniffled again, and Malon shifted her arm so it was resting around him, loose enough he wouldn’t be nervous, but tight enough to offer comfort. He leaned into it, and Malon ran her hand over his hair as well.

“Mom?” Wild whispered after a bit, and Malon hummed questioningly. “Why’re you awake too?”

“Did we wake you up?” Hyrule asked worriedly, and Malon shook her head.

“No sweetie, you didn’t. I just couldn’t sleep either,” she admitted, and Wild peered up at her, worry shining in his eyes.

“...was it cause of nightmares?” he asked softly, and Malon ran her hand over his head again.

“No, not tonight. But... sometimes I have them.”

“...What about?”

Malon sighed, thinking for a moment before she spoke. Wild and Hyrule certainly didn’t need to know everything about nightmares she’d had, especially the worst ones, but maybe a few details would help them feel better.

“Well... I worry about you boys, and your father. All sorts of things, really. And sometimes my dreams take my worries and just twist them up and make them worse then they really are. It’s hard,” she said gently, “to remember they’re not real sometimes.”

Her boys seemed to think about that for a minute, both staying quiet.

“...Mine’re like that,” Hyrule whispered. “With the mostly real things.”

“I never remember mine,” Wild admitted, voice still shaky. “Just... just how bad they were.”

“Oh boys,” Malon said softly, and Hyrule sniffled again, hiding his face in her arm.

She’d thought the ache in her chest couldn’t get any worse, but apparently it could, and Malon held both of them tighter, running a soothing hand across both their heads. Hyrule and Wild relaxed at the motion, and Malon kept it up, beginning to softly hum.

She couldn’t take her sons’ bad dreams away. And she couldn’t take away the memories that brought them on, and continued to plague them even afterwards. But she could comfort them now, let them know everything was okay and that they weren’t alone, no matter what their nightmares tried to tell them.

Not on my watch, she thought as she continued to hold them tight.

Wild and Hyrule’s eyes began to droop as she hummed her family’s song, and Malon watched as they both slowly nodded off, still snuggled tight against her.

After several minutes, both were soundly asleep, faces relaxed from the tension that had been there before. A part of Malon wanted to just stay here with them all night, but she knew her back wouldn’t like it if she slept upright on a couch, and they’d all be more comfortable in their own beds. So once she was sure they were both asleep, she shifted Wild and Hyrule around, careful not to wake them. Then Malon pulled them both up into her arms, standing and walking back to their rooms.

Despite her efforts not to jostle them, both Hyrule and Wild’s eyes blinked open as she moved, and they watched her walk up the stairs, barely awake.

“You can carry us both?” Wild murmured doubtfully, and Malon smiled as she easily reached the top of the stairs.

“Darlin’ I’ve lifted cows twice your size before, this is nothing.”

Hyrule giggled. “Really?”

“Really.”

Hyrule and Wild both let out sleepy giggles at that, and Hyrule set his head back against her shoulder, eyes slipping closed.

Malon dropped Wild off first, setting him down in his bed and attempting to fix his blankets. Somehow they’d gotten all tangled around and folded in on themselves, and it took her a moment to straighten them out enough to tuck Wild in.

“Goodnight hon. Sleep well,” she said softly.

“You too,” Wild mumbled sleepily, and curled up under his blankets.

Malon gave him a kiss, and noticed a furry head poking up from Twilight’s bed, blue eyes shining at her. She put a finger to her lips, then carried Hyrule out of the room, hearing pawsteps cross the floor after she was gone.

She brought Hyrule to the room he shared with Four and Wind, stepping lightly so as not to wake anyone. Malon set him down once she crossed the room to his end, and tucked him in like she’d done for Wild, adjusting his blankets around him, and fetching the stuffed rabbit he usually slept with that had fallen halfway under the bed.

Hyrule watched her sleepily the whole time, still clinging stubbornly to consciousness. Malon lingered a moment even after she finished getting him settled, running a hand over his head, and Hyrule relaxed into the touch.

“Goodnight honey,” she said softly as his eyes finally drifted shut, and she stood and began to walk out the door.

“...Mom?”

The whisper made her pause, and she looked back at Hyrule, his eyes open again.

“Yes sweetheart?”

Hyrule blinked sleepily, barely hanging on to wakefulness, but Malon heard his next whisper loud and clear.

“...Love you.”

Malon looked at him in astonishment, warmth blooming in her middle at the sound of the words from her son. She blinked back a bit of a sting in her eyes, then walked back over to Hyrule, smiling at him.

“I love you too honey,” she said softly, and kissed the top of his head. “Sleep well.”

Hyrule smiled back at her, and his eyes closed again, Malon knowing he was truly asleep this time.

She adjusted his blankets just a little more, then straightened and crept out of the room, back to her own bed. The anxiety and tightness that had been keeping her awake had finally settled, and her eyes felt heavy as she slipped back to where she and Time slept.

“...Everything alright?” Time whispered as she got back into bed, looking at her sleepily. “You’ve been gone a while, I was about to come looking for you."

Malon smiled as she got under the covers, and nestled up to Time with a sleepy sigh.

“Yes. Everything’s fine,” she replied, setting her head under his. “Nothing to worry about.”

And something to celebrate, she thought as she closed her eyes, Hyrule’s whisper still warming her heart.