#RAVIO SWEEP

[birb-boyo]

Linked Universe(but not really) Hunger Games pt.3

Added that one again because I find it funny and ironic that the only person Malon sparred was Twilight

Anyway

RAVIO SWEEP

[r4zzberry]

made these for the LoR account

to promote ravio sweep propaganda for the loz companion poll because my blorbo is very much losing </3 

but theres also alt versions i made with silly colours so here they are

[breannasfluff]

Sweet Gestures

Collaboration with screaming-but-i-have-four-swords! Go check out the art!

AO3 Link

“So, I noticed you like sweets.”

Hyrule, who was trying to play coy while scooping sugar into his palm, startles and sends white grains flying across Legend and Ravio’s kitchen. “What—no—what?”

Ravio laughs and moves closer so he can bump shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with liking sugar. But if you want something, I’m pretty sure I can make a recipe.”

“Oh. Yeah.” There isn’t the expected excitement.

“Or, I mean, you’re welcome to the sugar…?” Did he misread the situation?”

Hyrule only curls further into himself. “Sorry, I can clean up the mess.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about?” Ravio’s brows furrow; how did this conversation go wrong so quickly?”

“Um.” The traveler stares at his shoes, shoulders hunching. “Sorry, please excuse me.” Then he darts from the kitchen, bumping into Wild on his way out.

The champion watches him go, then turns to Ravio. “What was that about?”

“I don’t know! I said I noticed he likes sweets because he’s been taking sugar from the jar. I can make him a treat if he wants? And he just—shut down.” The merchant turns pleading eyes on Wild. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you are fine.” He claps a hand on Ravio’s shoulder and moves to help him sweep up the sugar on the counter. “Hyrule can be sensitive, that’s all. He’s had to protect himself for a long time. It’s hard to let others in.”

“Is it…a secret?”

Wild shrugs one shoulder. “I think Rulie would really like it if you made him something, though.”

Ravio nods, turning to pull out his cookbooks. “Let me think of something you couldn’t have on the road.”

Throwing a two-fingered salute, he saunters back out. Ravio returns to his cookbooks. What can he make that will be special, but also sweet? Not candy; Wild already makes honey candy for them on the road. Maybe…a pastry? He has been meaning to try that new recipe he found. Mind made up, he turns to pull out ingredients. ~

So the first batch is…well, calling them an eyesore is a compliment. Ravio gives a deep sigh before dumping them all in the trash. He’ll get better in round two. Maybe he’ll start prepping more dough so he doesn’t have to wait each time for the chilling period. At least he’s got all day.

Making more dough is a good idea because the second batch is also inedible. Most of the heroes have wandered into the kitchen and been chased out already. Legend sticks his head in, looks at his frazzled housemate, and abruptly retreats.

The third batch is burnt, because Ravio got distracted after putting them in to bake. He’s got more dough, but…after this, he’s going to be out of butter.

“Link!” He pops his head out the back door, making Four—sitting on the stoop—jump. “Link—oh, hi Four. Have you seen Legend?”

“I’m here, I’m here! What’s the racket about?”

“My hero!” The merchant gushes, batting his lashes. Legend’s face puckers. “I need more butter. Do you mind running out and grabbing some?”

“More butter? Didn’t we have plenty?”

“Yes.”

“Does this have to do with whatever you are burning in my kitchen?”

“Yes.”

“Do I get to eat it when you are done?”

“…yes.”

“Fine.” Legend rolls his eyes but reaches a hand down to pull Four up. “You’re coming with me.”

“What? What did I do?”

“You existed within my eyesight,” the vet deadpans.

“I can be shorter.”

Ravio leaves them to bicker, turning back to the dough he already had. This time, he’ll get it right. ~

By dinner time, the group decides to trek to Kakariko for dinner out, as Ravio’s turned the kitchen into what Legend deems, his own personal nightmare. Why is this so hard? Sure, it’s got a lot of finicky steps, and temperatures to follow, and layering the dough, and—

Maybe he should have picked something easier.

…he definitely should have picked something easier. ~

The group returns and goes to bed late, still giving the kitchen a wide berth. It’s after midnight when Ravio finally pulls out a perfect batch of baked goods and transfers them to cool.

Then he collapses in a chair, exhausted. Frustration sapped his patience hours ago, but the sweet does smell delicious. He’ll just wait for them to cool a little longer. It probably wouldn’t hurt to rest his eyes…just for a moment… ~

“Ravio? Ravio!”

The merchant mumbles something into his sleeve, then raises his head to blink at the blurry shape before him. “Hyrule? Is something wrong?”

“It smells really good in here. And then I found you asleep on the table. Shouldn’t you…go to bed?”

It takes another long moment for Ravio’s brain to catch up to the situation. “Oh! I made you something!” He’s out of the chair with a yawn, going to check on the baked goods. They’re cooler, but still a little warm. He transfers one to a plate and thrusts it at the healer.

“Um.” Hyrule takes it, a little nonplussed. “It's…late?”

“Oh. Yeah, you probably don’t want sweets this late, sorry. You can try it at breakfast.” He reaches for the plate, but Hyrule just pulls it into his chest. “Or you can try it now,” he amends.

“Is this what you were baking all day?”

Ravio grabs another pastry, carefully pulling the parchment away from the side. “Yeah. A little harder than I thought, but I think these ones turned out pretty well.”

Hyrule turns his around, then sucks on this thumb when it comes back sticky. His eyes light up and he takes a bite. Ravio copies him.

Butter and sugar are sandwiched between layers of dough. It took a lot of work to get it to roll out at the right consistency without melting, but the result is layers of light pastry. The sugar on the outside is caramelized and slightly sticky. While the butter is melted into the dough, each bite oozes richness.

Hyrule moans and shoves more of the baked good in his mouth. “Dis is the befst ting I’ve ever had. Dun tell Wild!”

It takes Ravio a second to decipher the words through his full mouth, but then he grins. “I’m glad you like it. And I agree, this is pretty darn good.”

The traveler swallows before speaking again. “How did you manage to make something sweeter than straight sugar?”

“The magic of baking?”

They both giggle and go back to their treats. Hyrule gives him another shy glance. “Really, thank you for going to all this effort. It means a lot.”

“You deserve it, Hyrule. And if this is one way I can help? I’m happy I got the chance to do so.”

The traveler’s smile is as sweet as the sugar they eat.

[legendofmorons]

The LU boys and superstitions

Once again, I was thinking about things I grew up with/ learned about and applying it to the boys. I might add the colors and dark link later, I just couldn't think of any for them rn

Tw: mentions death

Fierce

Oh, he's so old he probably has a bunch he follows

He never leaves an empty rocking chair rocking.

He keeps any hanging horse shoes hung right side up (ends up so it's able to hold the luck)

Fierce also believes in wishing on shooting stars

First

Throwing salt over your left shoulder after you spill it

He will NOT wash clothes or clean things on new years day

Refuses to walk under ladders

Covering mirrors when someone dies in a building (stops them from becoming stuck in the mirror)

Four

Horseshoe hung up so the luck won't fall out

Breaking mirros is bad luck to him

He dosen’t have a whole lot, he thinks most wide spread superstitions are common sense

Hyrule

Ooooo boy

Faerie boy? He has some.

I think he's probably a summer /seelie fae so he probably has some superstitions around harvest time

Bottle trees keep away haints/ghosts/spirits

If your ear rings someone is talking about you

He HATES all horseshoes (iron is BAD for the fae), but if he must be near one, he would like it to be right side up

Legend

Breaking mirrors is bad luck

Rocking an empty rocking chair? No thanks, he's not inviting unknown spirits or death.

He keeps a mirror outside his house to keep away evil/the devil/ (demise??)

He eats black eyed peas on new years

He sweeps out the back door (never the front and NEVER when it's dark outside)

Will ward off evil with the three finger sign I always saw

Stays away from cross roads at night

Ravio

If you thought Legend had a bunch, Ravio has more

He has all of the one Leged has ofc

He also believes walking under ladders is bad

He covers mirrors AND stops clocks if someone passes away in his home

Holds his breathe while passing a grave yard

He always goes out the same door he came in through

He believes death comes in threes

He only walk beside his loved ones when going around a post never letting it go between them

Probably has many more

Sky

Not that superstitious actually. He tries to avoid breaking mirrors but not much else

Isn't a huge fan of black cats, but that's more because of nighttime remlits than anything

Time

By the end of his first adventure he has none

The superstitions he had believed were proven false over the years

Tries not to break mirrors but that's because he hates broken glass

Will participate in superstitions if someone he cares about asks. He knows it's out of love

Twilight

He dosen’t like empty rocking chairs that are rocking

He has a horseshoe hung up in his room to keep away bad dreams

Not too superstitious at heart, but so many people in his town are that it is basically habit for him

Warriors

Knocks on wood to keep from jinxing himself

Dosen’t gift knives to loved ones because he dosen’t want to sever the relationship

Wild

He remembers a few but isn't too superstitious

Likes four leaf clovers for luck though!

And he dosen’t clean on new years

Wind

He will knock on wood

He also likes to pick up a green rupee for luck! (Originally a penny)

He also probably wants a luck rabbit's foot

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 29: "What happened to me?"

Continuation to day 22 and 25 :)

Day 22

Day 25

Read on ao3

Warnings: mostly the same as the other ones, blood, injury, some violence, possession, a little creepy vibes

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Warriors is not one to hesitate.

As Time leaps forward to attack the demon (the boy?) and tentacles of pure darkness shoot out from the mask, Warriors is instantly in full battle mode, and begins shouting out orders.

The others snap out of their horrified dazes and go to help Time, dodging shadowy tentacles as thunder booms nearby. The rain begins to come down harder, and visibility grows more difficult, the only truly clear sights Warriors gets of the battle happening when lightning scatters across the sky.

But he doesn’t let it stop him, and Warriors finally locates his first target, grabbing Legend’s shoulder to catch his attention.

“You need to go see if you can find Ravio,” he says a bit breathlessly, dodging a tentacle that comes their way. “He must still be inside, Sheerow wouldn’t have led us here otherwise.”

Legend scowls. “Captain, I’m not going to leave—”

“He may be in trouble, and we don’t know if he has time for us to finish this battle,” Warriors says grimly. “Go find him, Vet. We can handle things for now.”

Legend hesitates, then nods, Sheerow appearing at his shoulder like he’d heard them talking. Legend turns and runs off, and Warriors watches him until he disappears with the little bird into the Eastern Palace.

Then he turns back to the battle, and joins the others in fighting the mask.

Time is fighting the body itself, and while the rest of them are trying to help him, the mask is surprisingly good at multitasking. It picked up a sword somewhere, and while it swings viciously at Time, dark tentacles sweep at the rest of them, keeping them away from the fight.

Time is in no condition to be fighting a demon, Warriors knows that for certain. Between the sleepless nights that have sapped him of energy, and the nightmares and revelations he’s had dropped on him, it’s a wonder he’s even standing.

But there’s strength in desperation. Warriors knows that well.

Wild jumps back from the fight and along with Four, begins firing arrows into the fray. Warriors is glad for the the cover as he dodges another attack. They’re starting to figure out the movements of the battle now, the different attacks up their enemy’s sleeve, and with the archers’ support, begin closing in on Time and the demon.

An arrow flies past Warriors’ shoulder, and someone suddenly screams, piercing and familiar. Warriors is already looking around for who got struck, but when he finally sees where the arrow landed, his brow furrows in confusion.

It’s sprouting from the shoulder of their enemy, but he could have sworn the voice that had screamed was—

“Don’t hurts the person behind the mask!”

At Twilight’s frantic cry, everything Warriors had been wondering and suspected falls neatly into place, and he stares at the body that’s wearing the mask, a cold feeling in his chest. The figure is taller then what he remembers, but the outfit is familiar, even through all the blood and shadows covering it.

Somehow, impossibly, there’s a version of Time under that mask.

The demon seems to have recovered quickly from the arrow in its arm, and it rips it out with a small cry. Then it cackles as it thrusts a tentacle of darkness at Time, nearly throwing him to the ground before he scrambles to dodge it.

“How are we supposed to fight him but not hit him?!” Wild shouts, and Twilight’s reply is drowned out by another roll of thunder.

“How do we know if he’s even alive under there?” Hyrule asks worriedly, swinging at a tentacle nearby, and Warriors looks back at Majora, a tight feeling in his chest.

How indeed.

“We need to get the mask off,” he says as he dodges an attack, “then we’ll... we’ll know. In the meantime, try not to hurt him.”

“Easier said then done,” Sky grunts nearby. “I don’t think he has the same qualms.”

Majora must hear them, for after they have the exchange it grows harder to fight, tentacles lashing, cries ringing out as several of them are knocked to the ground. It begins tearing up bricks from the ground and throwing them as well, and between the projectiles and their reluctance to hit him, the battle begins to turn back in the demon’s favor.

A tentacle lashes forward, and a cry rings out, Warriors turning just in time to see Hyrule hit the ground, hard.

He hears several cries, but can’t get to the traveler through all of the tentacles and projectiles thrown his way. Someone does finally get to Hyrule’s side, Warriors unable to tell who through the rain, and he slices at another tentacle as another shout rings out.

It’s Time’s voice again, but this time it’s not Majora who’s hurt.

Warriors watches as Time grabs at his side, a flash of red visible through the rain as he reels backwards. His heart speeds up, and he tries to fight over to Time’s side, slipping on puddles and avoiding tentacles. Someone else cries out yet again, and Warriors feels ice begin to freeze up his chest.

They’re losing this fight.

He’s still much too far to be of any use to Time, and as he tries desperately to reach him and help, Majora dodging and leaping around, Warriors sees Time’s face harden into a look he knows well.

His heart shoots up into his throat as Time’s hand slips into his pouch, and a white mask is pulled out.

“Sprite don’t!” Warriors shouts across the battlefield, but Time either doesn’t hear him or ignores the words entirely as he slams the mask onto his face.

A tentacle tries to knock Warriors to the ground while he’s distracted, nearly doing the same to him as had been done to Hyrule. And by the time he’s dealt with it and turns back, Time is no longer there, a god fighting in his place.

A high-pitched laugh rings around the area, and Majora leaps around the Fierce Deity’s attacks, moving so fast it’s hard to watch. Lightning flashes, but it’s nothing compared to the way the Deity’s eyes flash as he fights Majora.

Warriors finally makes it within striking distance of the two, but they’re moving so fast he can’t help at all. He waits for an opening, wiping rain out of his eyes and nervously twirling his sword, and as he watches, Majora dodges just the slightest bit too slow.

The Fierce Deity doesn’t hesitate.

He swings his huge sword, glowing an almost electric blue, and strikes the mask right off the boy’s face.

A horrible scream rings around the area, a mixture of the mask and the one who’d been wearing it, and the body topples to the ground, bloody and broken. Majora’s mask flies into the air, bleeding darkness as it turns to the Fierce Deity with its tentacles lashing, and it roars in outrage.

“YOU NEVER PLAY FAIR!” the mask screams, and the fight resumes, the two attacking each other with an increased ferocity.

Warriors doesn’t hesitate in sprinting towards the fallen body, shadows and blood seeping off of him in nearly equal amounts. He drags him away (he’s so light) as far as he can from where the Deity is now fighting the mask with no holds barred, and Warriors carefully flips the boy over, a quiet hitching sound coming from him.

He realizes it’s crying at the same time his eyes settle on the boy’s face.

The features that have been freed look so similar to Mask’s that Warriors startles, nearly forgetting what he’s doing. The face is older, though not by a whole lot, and the blood and injuries and tentacle marks all over him certainly change things. But the shape is there, a mix between the man Warriors knows now and the boy he met during the war, and he feels like he’s been gutted.

He can’t be older then Wild.

The rain puddled beneath the younger Time begin to turn red, and the hitching noises turn to gurgles as the shadows holding him together fade. Warriors shoves his scrambled thoughts aside, and shushes the boy as he pulls out a fairy.

“Hold on kid, hold on,” he murmurs, and the fairy dances over the boy’s rapidly stilling form. Sparkles mix with the rain, and Warriors watches in silence as the most grievous of the boy’s injuries are healed.

Twilight and Wind run up to his side as the fairy finishes, and the hitching sound starts up again, Wind staring at the body in horror.

“Merciful Ordona,” Twilight breathes, and carefully lifts the boy partially onto his lap, shushing him when he makes a noise. “Shh, you’re alright, you’re safe.”

The boy shudders where he’s laying, and Twilight pulls him into a tighter hold, rubbing small circles onto his back. His injuries are by no means completely healed, but they can’t do much for him here, rain pouring on their heads, screams still ringing out.

Screams?

Warriors turns, and sees the Fierce Deity with a foot on Majora’s mask, angry screams and jabbering coming from the demon. The Deity doesn’t hesitate, and plunges his glowing sword through the mask, one final scream ringing out.

Any tentacles left grow still, then fade away, darkness puddling on the ground much like the rain.

A louder hitching sound catches Warriors’ attention, and he turns back to the boy, his eyes flickering as Twilight holds him. He’s looking around with a terrified look in his eyes, tears smearing the blood on his face, and suddenly the Fierce Deity is kneeling beside him, a hand outstretched.

Warriors stiffens, a hand reaching for his sword.

But the Deity’s hand merely rests on the boy’s cheek, notably gently compared to the way he’d been fighting earlier. The younger Time whimpers, and turns into the hold, and Warriors releases his sword, though he keeps it in reach.

“Rest, little one,” the Deity says, surprisingly soft as a finger brushes some blood away. “Your part of this fight is done.”

The boy’s breath hitches again, but his eyes slip closed, and he stills as the Deity gently holds his cheek. Warriors frowns, but Twilight waves him off, gesturing to the boy’s chest going up and down. He’s merely unconscious.

The Deity waits a moment, still looking at the younger Time, then removes his hand and turns to face the three heroes around him.

“The demon is gone,” he says, rain pattering on his armor. “And the one who brought him back is not present. The danger has been eliminated.”

“Are you going to release Time now?” Warriors asks in a voice that’s more of a demand then a question.

The Deity tilts his head, then blinks, looking like he’s studying Warriors’ face.

“My role is finished. You need not worry for your leader.” His hand raises, but he pauses just before taking the mask off, and stares at Warriors with an intense gaze. “Watch out for him and the boy. The upcoming days will not be easy.”

Warriors blinks, but before he can reply, the Deity lifts off his face, and Time kneels where he once did.

He immediately flounders, and Warriors is there with an arm under his shoulder as he lowers him carefully to the ground. Time’s hand goes to his side, blood on his fingers, and Wind scoots over and hands him a potion.

The rain is steady, but the thunder is mostly past, rumbles coming from in the distance. The others slowly converge on where the rest of them kneel, Wild helping Hyrule walk over. One by one they turn to look at the bloodied teenager in Twilight’s lap, and Warriors looks uneasily at Time, the older hero rubbing his forehead.

He looks exhausted, even having drunk a potion, but his face is oddly emotionless as he looks at the younger version of himself. Warriors can feel him shaking where his arm is still slung over his shoulder, and he holds him a little tighter, just like he has been for the past month after he’d woken up screaming.

It was his death he was seeing after all, Warriors thinks as the rock in his stomach shifts. An alternate version, but...

“Is... is that really Time?” Wind asks him quietly, and Warriors looks at the older hero again.

Time doesn’t say anything, rain dripping off his hair.

“In a way,” Warriors says a bit uncertainly. “Do you remember what Legend was saying about Times nightmares, and the Fallen Hero?”

Wind looks confused, and then he pales, a quiet oh escaping his lips as he looks at the young Time again.

“This is him?” Hyrule says a little shakily, and Warriors swallows, nodding without a word. What can he even say?

Wind suddenly perks up, and looks behind them all, some of the light coming back to his eyes.

“Hey look, it’s Ravio!”

Warriors turns and sees Legend exiting the palace with Ravio’s arm slung over his shoulder, the merchant barely able to walk even with his assistance. Wind runs over to help, and Warriors worriedly takes in Ravio’s battered appearance as they approach, though the merchant gives them all a bleary smile.

“Can always count on Mr. Hero,” he says in a shaking voice. “N-never let me down yet.”

“You certainly don’t make it easy,” Legend mutters, though there’s a fondness in his voice. His eyes seem red as well, but nobody mentions it as they look back at the boy in Twilight’s arms.

Legend takes in the sight of him, an unreadable look in his eyes, and then he looks around at the rest of them, soaking wet, exhausted and injured.

He sighs.

“Come on. Let’s head back to my house.”

(...)

It’s more then two days before he wakes up.

They all head back to Legend’s house, wounded in tow, and once they arrive, everyone is properly fussed over. Potions are handed out, bandages wrapped, wet clothes peeled off and set to dry by the fire Legend gets going.

The younger Time is placed in his bed once they heal and bandage him as much as they can, and they carefully coax the story of what happened from Ravio, the merchant still shaky and pale.

He recounts the exact events of Time’s longer dream, Legend sitting beside him the entire time, and when he finishes, Time stands up and leaves the room.

Warriors doesn’t follow. Time needs time to process everything.

Warriors knows he does.

After they’ve all sufficiently rested from... everything, and while they wait for the younger Time to wake, they help Legend clean up his house. It’s something to do, but it doesn’t dispel the strange mood over them all.

There’s relief, that Ravio and everyone else is okay and that Time finally has an uninterrupted night’s sleep, but worry too, since barely anyone got out of the fight without at least a few scratches, and the implications of the enemy they’d fought, and the boy they saved that still hasn’t woken up.

Warriors watches him that first night, his bangs partially obscuring the marks they’d discovered after cleaning him up. They’re from Majora of course, but Warriors hopes they’ll fade, for the boy’s sake at least.

He deserves to not have a reminder of what happened on his face.

He isn’t the only one in the room after another day of cleaning, on the second night they’re there. Though most of the Links are asleep, either on the floor or in chairs, snores drifting across the room. Not everyone is asleep though, and Warriors tries not to stare at where Time is seated by the bed, not quite within arm’s reach.

Twilight is beside him, much closer to the bed, and they keep watch over the sleeping boy, still as ever.

The younger Time suddenly whimpers in his sleep, and before Warriors can move, Twilight runs a hand along his hair, carefully avoiding the bandages by his cheek. The boy stills, and Twilight leans back again, looking at his ancestor with an aching look in his eyes.

“Time,” he asks quietly, the words loud in the silence of the room. “How old is he?”

Time is silent for a long time, and Warriors almost wonders if he’s not going to answer the question.

“Physically... around sixteen,” he says finally, voice not more than a rasp. “Maybe seventeen. I’ve never known exactly how old I was.”

“...mentally?” Twilight asks.

Time closes his eye, and Warriors sees him swallow

“About nine,” he whispers.

Warriors feels like he’s been kicked in the chest, and Twilight looks the same, both of them turning to stare back at the boy lying on bed.

Nine.

Nine.

The boy lying next to them, that had fought Ganon and been killed, setting off Legend and Hyrule’s entire timeline, and then been brought back to life and possessed by Majora and nearly died again due to the Shadow’s meddling was nine years old.

Mask had been eleven.

“Nine?” Twilight chokes out, and Time looks away, shaking his head.

Neither of them know what to say, but Warriors sees how Time’s shoulders curl in, how his eyebrows lower, that same haunted look coming back into his eye. Warriors stands up, making them both look over, then walks over to Time and pulls him into his arms.

He’s not usually one to initiate hugs of all things, but it’s all he feels like he can do.

“I’m so sorry,” Warriors says in his shoulder, and Time seems like he doesn’t know what to do, arms held rigidly at his sides.

“It’s hardly your fault,” he says in a strained voice, and Warriors holds him tighter.

“I know. But I have a feeling you never got an apology.”

Time stares, and then he crumples in Warriors’ arms.

A shaking breath escapes him, and Twilight leans over to put an arm around him as well, Warriors sitting to better out his arms around him.

They hold him in silence as he begins to cry, then sob, and if any of the others wake up from the noise, they don’t say a word.

(...)

The younger Time finally wakes up the next day, when it’s just Warriors, Wind, and Legend in the room.

They’d brought a pile of maps in to sort out and reorganize, figure out which are still useable. One minute Warriors is wondering exactly how many dungeons Legend has gone through, and the next, Wind jumps, staring over at the bed.

Two blue eyes are staring at the three of them, wide and confused-looking.

“He’s awake!” Wind gasps, but Legend puts a hand on his arm, stopping him from running over.

Warriors calmly gets to his feet and goes to his bedside, the blue eyes following him the entire way. He sits down, and gives the boy a careful smile.

“Good morning, Link. We weren’t sure quite when you were going to wake up,” he says kindly.

Link stares at him still, and Warriors grabs the cup of water they’ve kept at the bedside table for this very moment.

“I’m sure you’re thirsty, would you like some water?” he asks gently, and Link nods, zeroing in on the cup with a hungry look. Legend and Wind finally come over, and they help him sit up, the borrowed tunic slipping over one of his shoulders.

Warriors hands him the cup, and though it takes him a few tries, Link manages to hold the cup and drink by himself, eagerly draining the entire thing.

“We’ll get Wild to make you some food too, I’m sure you’re hungry,” Wind says with a smile, and Link swallows, finishing the water.

“Where... what happened?” he asks, looking down at himself, eyes going wide at the bandages, and Warriors and Legend exchange looks.

“...Maybe you’d better see for yourself,” Legend says, and grabs a hand mirror from a table nearby. Warriors raises an eyebrow, and Legend rolls his eyes. “It’s not magic, it’s a regular mirror.”

That hadn’t been what Warriors was raising his brow at, though the assurance is nice.

Legend hands it over to Link, and he stares, taking in the bandages and pale color of his face, and especially the markings that are still visible on his skin. He raises a hand, and stares at that as well, looking at the bandages wrapped over his wrist.

“Wh... what happened to me?” he asks in a small voice, running a shaky hand along the lines on his face.

Something flashes across his face, and he sets down the mirror, pulling up his tunic with a shaking hand. Link stares at the bandages covering the worst of the injuries across his middle, and places a hand on his stomach.

He suddenly freezes, eyes going even wider, and Warriors immediately recognizes the look of someone remembering.

“I died,” he says in a small voice, and Warriors breathes out, then nods.

“You did,” he agrees quietly. “But you’re not dead anymore, Link. You’re safe.”

“I... I wasn’t,” Link continues, and puts his hand back on the marks on his face with a shaken look. “There was... was something in my head. I remember, I was fighting, I fought really hard but it wouldn’t let me go, and it hurt and I wanted to be dead again but...”

He looks at Warriors, face pale and eyes watering.

“Y-you all saved me.”

“We did,” Wind says confidently, and pats Link’s hand with a smile. “We got rid of Majora. Time split the mask in two while pieces, there’s no coming back from that.”

Link lets out a strange noise, his breathing speeding up, and Warriors takes his hands in his. He holds them steady, feeling the way they’re shaking, and waits until Link looks up and meets his eyes.

“He’s gone, Link. You’re safe, and you’re alive,” Warriors says softly.

Link’s lip trembles, and suddenly his face is pressed against Warriors’ shoulder, quiet cries coming from him. Warriors puts his arms around him, and runs a hand through his hair, suddenly seeing so many similarities to Mask and Time that it makes his heart feel like it’s going to break in two.

“Thank you,” Link chokes out, and Warriors holds him a little tighter as his breath hitches. “Th-thank you, I—”

His words break off into a hiccup, and Wind can’t take it anymore and jumps up to hug him as well. Legend puts a bracing hand on his shoulder, something heavy in his gaze, and Warriors realizes that the others have come into the room, likely brought by the sounds of Link’s cries.

They don’t intrude on the hug, but they stay close, and Warriors meets Time’s eye for a split second before he looks away.

“Shh, you’re okay Sprite,” Warriors says softly, and despite the fact that the boy he’s holding can’t have heard the nickname before, he relaxes slightly at it. “You’re safe.”

He holds him a little tighter, and doesn’t direct his next words solely at the boy in his arms, but rather the one he knows is also trying not to cry only a few feet away.

“It’ll be okay.”

[legend-of-thyme]

It's Breanna's birthday today, and she's requested as much Ravioli as possible. Happy birthday @breannasfluff! I hope it's been everything you hoped for and that you enjoy this little bit of fluff. <3

~~~

"Mr. Hero," Ravio whispers quietly, pulling Legend from sleep. "Mr. Hero, wake up. I have something to show you".

Legend grumbles and closes his eyes more tightly. His partner doesn't sound upset so maybe he can get away with pretending to sleep a while longer. He must have slept more deeply than he has in years because it feels like only moments ago he'd crawled into bed relishing the feeling of being in his own room, in his own house, with his own husband at his side.

He rolls over to bury his face in Ravio's side and wonders with a sleepy sort of distance why the normally late riser is up at all.

A thin, frigid finger pokes him insistantly in the cheek and Legend jolts the rest of the way to wakefulness with a yelp. Ravio yelps too as he overbalances and tumbles over on top of Legend. They barely miss knocking their heads together but Ravio still laughs and kisses his cheek before pulling back just far enough to grin at him through the dark.

Wait. Why is it dark?

"What time is it?" He yawns and blinks trying to clear the fog from his mind.

Ravios grin only grows as he sits back upright pulls Legend with him. "Midnight," he says, far too brightly. "Happy birthday, bun!"

"Ravio" he say slowly. "Why am I awake at midnight?"

"Well I had to make sure I was the first person to wish you happy birthday, didn't I?" Ravio asks propping his hands on his hips and feigning indignation. It fails immediately as he disolves into laughter.

Adoration sweeps over Legend like a wave so strongly it would have knocked him off his feet if he were standing. Any residual disgruntlement at being woken in the middle of the night washes away in its wake. Ravio hides his face in his hands to muffle a snort and Legend hopes he can start every birthday this way for the rest of his life.

He pulls Ravio's hands away from his face and kisses him softly. "Thank you, Ravi. What was it you wanted to show me?"

Ravio brightens at the reminder and, distressingly, pulls his hands out of Legend’s own and moves to get up.

"Where are you going? It’s cold".

"I'll be right back," he calls over his shoulder. "Don't fall asleep!"

Legend grumbles but sits up straigher inching over towards Ravio's empty spot to chase his lost warmth.

Ravio doesn't keep him waiting long. He practically skips back into the room managing to avoid every creaky floorboard despite the plates in his hands.

The smell hits him all at once, warm and nostalgic. "Is that apple crumble?"

"Yes! It’s birthday tradition after all," Ravio hands him the plates and gently nudges him back over to his own side of the bed.

"You know Wild's going to be making a real cake later, right?"

"Of course, but you heard them all planning over dinner last night. Between Fable and your brothers today's going to be packed". Ravio hums contentedly as he digs into his crumble. "I wanted to have some for just the two of us," he finishes through a large mouthful.

Legend stops spoon half way to his mouth. "Do you not want to go out today? I can tell them all to free up this afternoon. They'd understand".

He hopes they would understand. Planning his birthday had turned into a bit of an ordeal as each of his brothers wanted him to experience their own birthday traditions. Hyrule turned out to be a goddessend, gently mediating and reminding them all that Legend would be happiest if they avoided surprises and let him take an active role in organizing the day.

His heart sinks wondering why Ravio hadn't said anything earlier. "If you want we can ditch the whole thing. You know I'd be just as happy to read by the pond with you all day".

"What? No!" Ravio shakes his head furiously seeming genuinely surprised. "I know we usually do quiet celebrations, but I couldn't be happier to spend the whole day with your family". He bites his lip in a way Legend knows means he's thinking carefully about what to say next.

"Link," he meets his eyes soft and sure and sincere. "I wanted time for us and time with everyone else, not instead of time with everyone else". His smile is as sweet as apples and as warm as cinnamon. "You are so loved by so many people, my heart. Let us celebrate you the way you deserve".

[mothfables]

Blushing Bunnies and Rings

A gift fic for @breannasfluff! I’ve had this scene in mind for literal *months* now, and finally decided to write it down <3 I hope you enjoy!!

“You know what’s nice about you being home?” Ravio asks, leaning on the counter with his chin propped in his hand. His Mr. Hero and his brothers have come to visit again. The Chain, as they call themselves, have spread through the house while Link- Legend, Ravio reminds himself- has decided to sort through and swap out some of his items.

Right now, he’s going through one of his many ring boxes. Box in hand, he sweeps distractedly across the room, barely registering Ravio’s question. “What’s that, Ravi?” he calls back, only partly paying attention.

Ravio grins, though the other boy can’t see it. Wind, on the opposite side of the room, can, and quickly comes to the conclusion that something potentially amusing is about to happen. His eyes flick between Legend, still nose-deep in his ring box, and the merchant, whose eyes are trained directly on his brother. Rupee-green shines mischievously.

“I get to look at you.”

The statement takes a moment to register. Legend pauses, blinking, before fully realizing what he heard. Then the box is clattering out of his hands, rings spilling out across the floor as his face flushes bright red.

Wind is in a prime position to watch as Legend splutters, his hands flailing as he tries - and fails - to come up with a response. He sees Ravio’s grin grow to a smug smirk as his partner continues to flounder, the red spreading to the tips of his ears and down his neck. A snicker makes it’s way out of his mouth and he slaps a hand over it.

The other heroes make an appearance then, drawn by the noise. They’re treated to the sight of a scarlet Hero of Legend, a smirking merchant, and a Sailor whose own face is starting to match the Veteran’s with how hard he’s struggling to hold back laughter.

“Y-you- I- you- Whuh-”

Wind can’t help it anymore- he lets out a loud ‘HA!’ before doubling over, clutching his ribs and cackling. Warriors snickers. Twilight snorts before catching himself and turning away, but everyone can see his shoulders shaking.

Ravio’s smirk only grows. From here, he can’t see Legend’s face but he does have the privilege of watching his partner’s ears flickering madly as they grow progressively more red with each passing second.

After another minute of flustered flailing, Legend abruptly turns and marches stiff-legged to the couch, where he collapses face-first and lets out a muffled scream.

The other heroes only laugh harder.

Ravio chuckles for a few moments before he pushes himself off the counter and moves to pick up the scattered rings. To his pleasant surprise, Wind joins him, shaking off the last of his laughing fit with a bright grin.

“Thank you, dear,” he murmurs, appreciative. The young hero beams, reaching for the box and dropping a handful of rings inside. Between the two of them it’s short work, and before long Ravio is snapping the lid closed and standing to put it on the counter. He’ll sort them properly later.

Then he turns and makes his way to the couch where his hero is still lying facedown. He bends to press a kiss to ruffled strawberry-blonde locks, cooing at the whine that elicits. Legend doesn’t look up at him; instead he tries to burrow further into the cushions. The action only makes Ravio chuckle, and cooling ears burn red again as the merchant pets his hair.

“Oh, bunny. I can’t have embarrassed you that much, can I?”

Behind him, Ravio hears the other heroes begin to make their way out of the room now that the fun is over, some of them still laughing. One of them- the Captain, he thinks- makes a strangled wheezing sound. He pays them no mind, his attention solely on the hero before him. The hero who has yet to move from where he’s apparently trying to become one with the couch.

The sight makes Ravio laugh again and he muffles the sound with a sleeve. Link- Legend has had enough teasing for the day, no need to add to it. He pats his head a final time before straightening and moving towards the doorway. Mr. Hero will resurface when he’s ready.

In the meantime, he should probably go warn the Chain off of teasing him too badly, since he knows they’ll do it anyway. ‘Brothers,’ he thinks with a smile.

[bokettochild]

For the febuwhump prompts, how about Mask and Captain Link with either hostage situation or "you weren't supposed to be there"?

Since the whole "hostage situation" got requested by someone else as well, I ended up going for the other option!

And hey, we're a month late, but I'm working two jobs so I think it should be fine LOL

Anyways, here, have some Captain Link freaking out about Mask's safety!

Rating: Teen

Word count: 1,610 (Mask cuts my word counts in half LOL)

Summary: Caught in a battle with the tides against them, Captain Link elects to use some slightly less than honorable methods to down their monster enemies. Mask isn't told about the plan though, but maybe he should have been...

-

  War isn’t pretty.  Sacrifices are something that often must be made, most commonly in the forms of life, of soldiers, but sometimes at a cost to the land, to cities, to integrity and honor. Winning isn’t easy, and it’s rare an enemy will play by the rules, so there’s rarely any point in doing so yourself either. That doesn’t make Link feel any better about his decision, but it’s the truth. He can’t play fair against demons if he wants to win. 

  “The bombs are placed sir.” A soldier announces, throwing a quick salute, one that he nods to acknowledge. 

  Behind him, the battle still rages, but Impa had demanded he fall back long enough to at least have his own wounds bound before charging back into the fray. In that time, he’s laid some quick plans, and while the idea of causing the very ground to collapse beneath the feet of the enemy camp isn’t something he’s proud of, he has high expectations that it will turn the tides in their favor. 

  That’s what matters, in the long run. Stopping the enemy, no matter how, and getting his own people out of here alive. Even so, he doesn’t like it. He’d hate to have such a tactic used on his people, and he knows the hylian army would call it dirty and lowdown of the enemy to do the same. Still, the odds are far from in their favor, and he’s got to level the playing field somehow. Leveling the actual field of battle by collapsing the ground beneath their camp, behind their defenses, is the best chance he’s got. 

  “Set to blast?” 

  “Five minutes, sir.” 

  He wishes he had a clock on him, or some sort of watch or other time keeping device, but he doesn’t, and he can’t. He’s got enough gear to mind, and the ever-present tick of a clock would only serve to drive him mad in the long run. 

  He waves off the thought and turns his attention back to the battle, although one part of his mind stays focused on the field medic binding his wounds. Potions are running low, and until they can stop long enough to acquire ore from Ravio, they need to save what they have for the more serious injuries, or those near death. Using a potion on himself when he’s only been stabbed a couple times is pointless. Still, he doesn’t trust medics as a rule, so letting them work without waiting for the inevitable “mistake” won’t stand. 

  He only breathes freely when the medic leaves, and he’s free to reach for the Master Sword again and return to battle. Even then though, his breathing isn’t as steady as he’s like, what with the bruised ribs and all. 

  “Countdown?” He asks his lieutenant. 

  “Two minutes.” 

  They have only a little longer to wait until the ground collapses, and his own people are too far ack to be affected, still tackling the front lines of the enemy, not the archers and far larger beasts that throw heavy clods of earth and explosives down amid them. 

  Two minutes. Then the assault will stop, and his people can sweep in and finish this mission. Two minutes and the monsters they’re fighting won’t have backup or cover fire to aid them, and the hylian forces can overtake at long last.  

  He scans the field briefly. He’s not heading back in, not yet. The men don’t know the cliffs will be going down, and they’ll need direction when they do. They’ll need instruction, and he’ll be the one to provide it when that happens, coming back down amid them to offer guidance and direction. First though, he needs to ensure that all goes as intended, and be prepared on the chance that it doesn’t for one reason or another. 

  “One minute sir.” His lieutenant pants. They’re both tired, they've been fighting for hours without rest and all of them are flagging.  

  “Hold in there, lieutenant,” he tries to assure. “We’ll have them.” A charming smile, one Impa had made sure was trained into him, weas ready to unleash, was something to settle and strengthen and give hope, a confident look and glitter of the eyes, seems to settle the man at his side. 

  “Aye, captain.” A weak attempt at a smile answers his own bright one. “We- sir!” Dark eyes widen in horror as they fix behind him on the enemy, and Link turns through force of habit to catch sight of the foe, the change of the tides, the danger that no doubt lies behind him. “Mask!” 

  It takes a second, but then he sees it. A little flicker of yellow against the sea of silver and red. A little kitsune mask bobbing at the hip of a child who’s charging, alone, blade charged with magic and felling monsters with ease born of experience, uphill. Uphill into the blast zone. Uphill towards the camp and leading some of their soldiers, although the men are harder pressed to follow his lead in slipping through the enemy lines, no matter how hard they try. Uphill into where only seconds remain before bombs take out the land and level the camp, leaving nothing but rubble behind. 

  His feet are moving before his mind has time to catch up to him, a shout on his lips and panic making his heart race. 

  “Sir!” His lieutenant’s voice raises, but the rest in lost in the sounds of a blast that has a rumble filling the air around them, screams of the enemy rising beside the sounds of tumbling earth, crumbling and cracking rock, and flames that last only as long as the explosion before being smothered with the falling rubble. 

  A gust of smoke and cloud of dirt arises, blowing back against them, blinding all, even the enemy, temporarily and giving his men time to strike out blindly at where their foes last were even while the beasts startle and pause with sight lost. “Press forwards! Hold the line!” He manages to shout, gathering his own wits enough to supply commands to his men, commands that echo back as officers repeat the orders to their men, a chorus that echos even as he moves with them. 

  There’s no trace of yellow up ahead, not in the rubble of what’s left, but he moves along anyways. He strikes the fallen foes that still sow signs of life, be it in flailing limbs or shrieking from piglike snouts. Blood paints the path he takes, but his gaze searches for bright and sunny yellow, something innocent and warm against the battlefield around them.  

  Cries, shouts, screams and the clashing of blades fills his ears, drowns out any shout he calls out into the rubble, but the tide of the battle is changing he can hear his men’s voices rising, hear the hope as they push their way past, felling their foe now that bombs and arrows don’t rain down from overhead upon them to make them fall back again and again. His mind isn’t on their victory though. There's a part of him, a part that knows he must remain focused, set, poised, ready, aware; something that tracks where they stand and how they fare, but another part searches. 

  The monsters fall in waves. The beasts within the rubble give their final cries as his blade ends their miserable lives. His men begin to shout their victory as the sounds of blades clashing dims, fades entirely, but their captain does not celebrate beside them. 

  He is searching. With the enemy felled he can drop his sword, drop to his knees to push aside rubble, dirt, stone, anything that’s left of the tumbled apart camp. 

  Proxi whizzes about; searching, calling. His voice rises beside hers. “Mask! Kid, come on!” 

  There’s no returning call. 

 “Please!” 

  Behind him, there’s murmuring. Shouts fade, feet fall. There’s a rush of booted steps and then hands are helping to lift away the rubble. Voices of every sort rise to call out, their cries all the same. “Mask! Where are you, kid?” Searching for a flicker of yellow, a head of yellow hair or a familiar smiling mask. Searching for a smirking face, a little troublemaker. 

  The fairies dart, the men sift, the cries of all sound over the field in the absence of a monster’s squeals. The joy of victory fades as they look for a single soul caught in the winning blow. Caught where he was never meant to be, at the worst of times for him to have slipped loose from amidst them. 

  It feels like forever, the moving of ruble, the sifting, the calling. Each second is torture, heart pounding fit to burst in his throat as he tears through the remains of the enemy camp. Not here, not there. Not amid the monsters but not far away. He’s frantic, pushing aside burdens that, in his right mind, he’d ever dare attempt to move alone. The singing of pain through his frame, through every muscle and bone, is ignored as he tears through, searching, searching, searching- 

  “Captain Link!” 

  Yellow, paint chipped and steaked with dirt and blood. Yellow matted and filthy strands, the face beneath just as stained. He doesn’t care though. He’s gathering up the tiny form in his arms and holding, clinging, fingers searching for a pulse even as his own reaches speeds he didn’t know possible. 

  The faint little beat beneath his fingertips is enough to have a sob escaping past the heart in his throat. 

  His kid is alive. He’s alive, he’s going to be okay. Link clings tightly, holding the boy close. He’s alive. Thank Hylia, he’s alive. 

[not-freyja]

“This is what is going to happen,” Warriors says, unyielding. He is not addressing his (not so little) patchwork brotherhood, but rowdy soldiers under his command. “The ten of you are going to sit exactly where you are until Ravio is done.”

He sweeps a hard glare over the lot of them, pausing to meet every set of eyes one by one. (Well every set and Time’s singular eye.)

“You are not going to stand up and pace around.” He says, making sure to not react to Blue’s eye roll. “You are not going to start interrupting with inane questions,” Wars says to Sky.

He shoots his most stern glare at Time. “There will be no puns.” At Wind he growls, “And no heckling, or biting.” For Farore’s sake, no more biting.

“No casting,” Warriors says to Hyrule, who nods along as he sips slowly at his second bottle of iridescent blue. He almost sighs in defeat at the sight of the already purpling bruised bite mark on the Rancher’s hand. “And no manhandling one another.”

Warriors manages to not laugh at Wild’s truly guiltless expression, manages to keep a straight face through the sight of the black eye and remorseless smile. “We will not rile each other up.

“And there will not be, under any circumstances, any more fighting.” The Captain dares Legend to argue with his eyes. For once, the Vet doesn’t take the bait. He just ducks his violet gaze down and stares at his split knuckles as if they are his map out of this situation.

Warriors can relate.

“We are all going to politely listen and pay attention while Ravio explains what it is that he knows. And then we are going to thank him for his work and his hospitality, and then we are going to clean up this room.”

Several glances flick to the overturned table, to the toppled stacks of books. 

“Ravio, from the top if you could?”

[neverchecking]

Brat Tamer Ravio

For my lovely; @lovanmari

And the not as lovely @angry-trashcan

I'm just kidding bailey is just as lovely, we love bailey. I'll get sappy if I need too do not test me.

SMUT so 18+, Minors DNI.

Smut CW: Degradation, ravio's mean :(, spit. talk of doing the do in front of someone,

The rings on his hand clicked against each other as his hand came down, heavy and hard. Clapping against the pretty red of the cheek in his grasp, he grinned something low and dark. His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth mockingly, scoldingly, as he brushed his hand along the burning flesh.

"My love, you know better." His tone remained light, mocking you in all actuality. "Teasing me like that. Makes you no better than any other whore I could find on the street."

Another smack rang out. You cried out in time with the blow, back arching inwards as your head fell back. In a sharp snap, he had his fingers woven into your hair, keeping it angled back and your back curved, nearly painfully. His own head leaned forward, lips puckered and tongue sweeping around his cheeks and behind his teeth. A dollop of spit was collected before he spoke again. "Open."

When you didn't immediately follow his demand, he yanked the hair in his grasp, making you gasp. His other hand grabbed your lower jaw, keeping it pried open before he was resuming his earlier plan. The clear drop fell from his own lips onto your tongue before he was shutting your mouth and keeping it clamped shut.

"Keep that there. Swallow before I tell you and you won't be cumming for a week." Ravio warned with a falsely sweet grin, tapping your cheek in a mocking manner. As if to further drive the point home that you were under his command and his command alone. No one else held your metaphorical leash quite in the way he did. No matter what, you would come back to him. You'd crawl into his lap and paw at his pants, undoing the belt with trembling fingers and beg for the privilege to suck his dick. And maybe, just maybe, he'd implore you. Let you fondle his balls and kiss the tip of his cock, cleaning it of the weeping pre-cum while he talks business. Maybe he'd fuck you right there on the table, keeping eye contact with the poor soul caught in this mess, making them wish they could be him.

Maybe he'd just let you lick the tips of his boots and sit there, fingering yourself without bringing yourself to completion just to prep for him.

He could do it all. Which was the true highlight. He could tell you to bend over, expose your pretty slicked up hole to him and you would. You were trained so well. You just had a bit of a bratty streak. Something he loved breaking.

He loved pulling and pushing you, pushing your limits in the same way you tested his. Loved reminding you that when it came to patience, he had very little. While he could talk and be persuasive, he wasn't all that patient in all actuality. He didn't like waiting. He didn't like people not understanding that time was money and that his time was precious.

Especially his time with you.

Returning to his post behind your quivering form, he let his fingers trail along the apple of your ass before prodding your entrance. The muscles wavered and clenched around his intruding digit as you bellowed behind your clenched jaw. When you gave no other reaction, he pushed a finger in further, carving out his spot in his favorite little pet.

When your hips twitched against his hand, he dared to wiggle a second finger right beside the first. As predicted, you kept your jaw shut, noises loud and pretty, and reactions just as perfect.

Every little twitch of your being was positively divine. It truly was something euphoric to watch. Something even more religious to experience.

Ravio was not a religious man by any means however.

As much as he devoted his entire being to you, there was a certain balance he had to upkeep. Too much devotion would give you the false idea that you had the power in this situation. Not enough would drive you away from him. Which just would not stand.

It was an intricate balance he had spent months cultivating and finessing and it had worked.

His fingers drew back, making you groan before pushing forward once more. He had picked up a steady rhythm, dragging them along your velvet walls and drawing every sort of noise from the pits of your gut. Every little move was met with a rewarding cry jusr for him.

His smirk returned as he leaned down into your ear.

"Swallow and scream for me, my gem."

You delivered, as you always did, mouth falling open as cries of ecstasy left your perfect lips. Your walls clenched as your feet stumbled for grip, thighs absolutely shaking beneath you as your shattered beneath his touch.

When your cries turned from pleasure filled to overstimulated, he withdrew his fingers, sticking them into his mouth and looking down at you disinterestedly. You were boneless against the table he had you pinned against, panting heavily.

"You don't think we're done, do you?"

<><><><>

I know what you're all wondering.

"Cinder, where the fuck were you?"

Well, shits happened. I know, crazy. No I did not eat glass again. I was working <3 and getting ready for Uni nongogn I also got a gf but I'm not telling y'all who it is, you have to guess <3

That's right. Someone looked at glass-eater Cinder and was like 'that's the one for me'.

[ritoposting]

Playing through Hyrule Warriors again, and I think that there is a interesting thing hidden in there about Legend that can be taken by looking at Ravio's fighting style. Canonically, Link and Ravio are mirrors, being near-opposites in personality, but having the same ideals and goals, as well as being the same where it matters, such as their heroism and kindness. Rav is cowardly, prefers to be compensated for his work, and before HW had never finshed an adventure, though he had begun at least one, as the items he rents out were his. Link on the other hand is courageous to a fault, has never been seen to request compensation for doing good (though, he often receives it unasked), and if we are going off of the "ALTTP is the same link as ALBTW" interpretation, has finished several adventures already, though if we are going in cannon, he still is trying.

Looking at this intentional mirror, we can then compare his fighting style to that of what I imagine his link's would be. He fights using his hammer as a primary tool, swinging it in wide, hard hitting sweeps that interact with several of his other tools. He also uses a wide array of bombs, an ice rod, and a boomerang, with his specials using the triple-shot bow (and even light arrows!).

With that, that grabs half of ALBTW's items that he has on-hand and uses widely, being bombs, ice rod, boomerang, and bow. We know that neither him nor Legend like to fight with the sand rod (and its already on another character, being spirit), so we can assume with this that likely, Legend usually carries the hookshot, fire rod, tornado rod, and bow with him, alongside his lantern and bug net. There are some ideas we can create with this, either taking the mirror literally (replacing the ice rod with fire, the boomerang with tornado rod, and the hookshot being used for stunning and for utility), and that is interesting in itself, showing a Link who uses his sword as a method to make space for him to use his items to devastate the battlefield using the terrifying power of the upgraded fire rod from ALBTW, but this discounts his other items from his other adventures.

For me, I always see Legend as being a mage/item master first, and a swordsman second. He uses his sword in desperation or finish off an enemy pestered by his items, and fluidly switching between his variety of magical rods, seed launchers, medallions, and bladed projectiles like the bow or hookshot, to provide greater distance pressure and crowd control than he could do with his sword alone. I also think this allows for cool shots such as "Legend holding 3 different magical rods and combining the elements", or "Legend renting out his items, writing a letter to Rav about how his system works".

[interactivestorytellingwithkalh]

< Prev || Next >

Chapter 2: Part 3

“Go have something to eat —” Ravio grunted as he pushed the cardboard boxes back into place over the stairs — “I’ll get the door.” 

Legend didn’t need to be told twice. The hazy golden memory of a fantastic scent — of warm fish stew and butter-fried shrimp — rose to the surface of his mind. He just hoped there were leftovers.

He had just figured out the switches and dials of Ravio’s Re-Heater (a truly genius invention, now that he had figured out how to make it work), when the salient smell of sulphuric ashes, fresh blood, and something wrong cut through the house.

Ravio.

Every detail sharpened. He yanked open the nearest drawer, grabbed a meat knife, and ran. 

Past the stairs, past the cupboard, towards the door at the end of the hall.

The smell strengthened — coated the roof of his mouth. Filled his throat.

He crashed through the door, into the shop, and hurled himself at the purple source of everything. 

Shouts.

Something hit the side of his head. His ears rang. His vision swam.

He raised the knife —

“STOP.”

He froze. His head felt as if it had been caught in a wrench. In front of him, a six-horned purple tiefling in light armour and a sweeping blue scarf picked himself off the floor and wiped a trickle of blood from his nose. Pupil-less golden eyes glared at him. “Hello to you too.” The tail flicked irritably. 

“DROP IT.”

Legend dropped the knife. 

“There we go.” As the pressure on his head eased, he felt the traces of Ravio’s magic — a peculiar hodgepodge of anything and everything Ravio had gotten his hands on — trickle out of his muscles. He could move again.

He straightened and stepped away from the knife. The shop felt cold. He must have dropped the covers somewhere. He crossed his arms. “Where have you been?” He glowered at War. “You reek.”

War raised an eyebrow. “A bar.”

Legend narrowed his eyes. “A bar.”

“A bar.” War pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against his nose.

“What are you doing here? We agreed —”

“Delivering a customer.” War nodded towards a tall air genasi by the counter, who looked severely ill — pale skin, sweating, shivering — the whole package. He was leaning heavily on Ravio, whose left ear ring was still glowing with residual magic.

“What’s wrong with him?” Legend asked and approached. “Can’t handle a bit of sea air?” He turned the air genasi’s face down towards himself. “Hey, what’s your name?”

The air genasi seemed to struggle to focus.

“I found him passed out in an alley Castle-side,” War said. “Between Queen’s Square and —”

“Down Smog Street?”

“That’s the one.”

Legend frowned. Towns and cities the size of Castletown always had strange rumours attached to various areas. 13 Diddle’s Street was haunted by the ghost of a girl whose lover had abandoned her, hurling stones at windows and pulling bushes up by the roots. The trees of Lander Park came to life at night. The university housing estate was full of vampires. 

Smog Street’s rumour was comparatively benign: a haunting melody that seeped through the adjacent alleys in the hour before midnight. 

He clapped the air genasi’s cheek. “Hey, kid. Time to get your bearings.”

The air genasi frowned. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Opened it again. “Sky.” His eyes rolled back and his full weight fell on Ravio.

“Help!” Ravio squeaked.

War hurried over and manoeuvred the air genasi’s weight off of Ravio’s shoulders. “I didn’t know where else to take him.”

Legend hummed. The air genasi was clearly not local. There was dust on his boots and a faint smell of sweaty goat. He must have come down from the mountains within the last day or so. Under the travelling gear he seemed well-dressed: embroidered tunic, soft but sturdy cotton trousers, and … there. Legend peeled back the cape and the collar of the tunic. Stitched to the inside of the tunic was a small hidden pouch.

“What are you doing?” Ravio asked.

“Looking for clues.” Legend pulled the pouch out and opened it. Inside was a sealed letter, a signet ring, and ten platinum. “Now this —” he lifted the ring and turned it — “is familiar.” He handed it to Ravio. 

“Sir Sky?”

Legend closed the pouch and put it back. “That’s the one.”

[song-linked-from-nine-verses]

The Eternal Loop (those four notes will never stop playing)

ao3 link

orr read below!

"There is no way you guys played an MMO with each other-" The Veteran says in disbelief. "Anything else I don't know?"

"We all ended up in a group Discord," Warriors says, then starts to count, "there was me, I mained the bass player in the game so I was the coolest, Midna, who mained the guitar so not as cool as me, Ravio, Marin-"

"Wait, what!? You knew Marin?" The Vet slams the table. "Ravio, why did you never tell me about this?"

"You never brought it up!"

"I don't think it was that important to bring up. It was an insignificant time for all of us anyway. Besides, he never chats or anything… and AFKs the whole time- only coming back for the rewards collection." Warriors says.

"What kind of Dad Lore is this?" Veteran starts throwing his hands.

"Oh yea, there was this guy named Mask as well. He had a voice-changer if he could join VC, and we all thought he was ten, also, he was a massive asshole!" Warriors lets out a chuckle. Knowing how 'Mask' is doing, they wouldn't believe it even if they saw it with their own two eyes. 

"Anywho- Why are you here Ravio? I swear, you haunt me like a ghost." The Vet says. 

"What do you mean? I work here!"

"Uncle???" The Vet yells upstairs. "WHY DID YOU HIRE HIM???"

"WHAT?" his uncle yelled back.

"WHY DID YOU HIRE RAVIO??"

"HUH???"

"WHY D- you know what, NEVER MIND! Let's just start cleaning-" 

— —

Ravio learned two things: a. An old friend of his is starting a band, and b. Another, older friend of his is also going into a band. 

What's with people and music nowadays? Those things barely make money.

And they are both helping eachother sweep the music venue. The two work well together, despite the bickering.

Both of them are hiding their identity with each other. Another reason to not be in a band, in Ravio's honest opinion. You'd think a small town would mean there would be no reason to hide your face to avoid 'fandoms' or what not, but you'd be wrong. Ravio picks up a stack of boxes, which kinda tips over and he almost slips. Gossip goes around like a minish who knows how to fly, and if you ever suck then the whole town knows. Or if you're too good, the town will annoy you to death. Ouch, those boxes were heavy. He'd rather sell gossip than be a part of one.

To be fair, no one actually tried to be in a band since 'last time', so who knows how people will react now. It's just a stupid superstition, and he thinks nothing would really happen if their identities are revealed, though Ravio won't sell his friends' information for money. It is super tempting, however.

On the other hand, Warriors is lying. Ravio made a bet to himself that his old friend is lying.

– 

Ravio remembers when the servers of Dynasty: Club Instruments of the Night closed down, the entire Discord group went on the game for one last time. It closed at midnight, and the hour that led up to that, everyone pulled out their main and played their instruments. 

If you have never played, this game had a fully fleshed instrument system, if you mapped it to all the keys on your keyboard. Console might have had a little less notes, but was basically still functional. 

Video games are amazing. It was the best virtual jam session ever, especially when you're friends with people who could play.

To be fair, other than his own crew, the rest of the people made wildly horrible tunes and it felt like a spam session of people button smashing.

Thirty minutes before closing, a few of his gang had to leave. But not after one last song.

Warriors typed in the chat: "I don't want to say goodbye yet."

He asked if they could play "kiitos". It's a song where he starts with a four note loop, and all the other instruments will start layering each other. Most of them just followed Warriors to know when the loop ends, although there were times he accidentally forgot to continue the next verse.

One. Two. Three. Four. Warriors started out lonely.

One. Two. Three. Four. One by one, each person started blending in with their own instruments.

One. Two. Three. Four. One last time before the loop ends.. wait-

One. Two. Three. Four. Ravio typed in the chat, despite never talking in game: "Warriors, you forgot to end the loop"

One. Two. Three. Four. He didn't play the next part, and kept looping those four notes instead.

One. Two. Three. Four. Midna typed in the chat: "pretty boy, you're trying to keep us here forever"

One. Two. Three. Four. Medli typed in the chat: "hey, we will talk in discord! this is not goodbye forever! ^>^"

One. Two. Three. Four. Darunia typed in the chat: "Big Guy, I Don't Know if I could keep this up, the buttons on my keys are getting Jammed"

One. Two. Three. Four. Marin typed in the chat: "I hope we can keep hanging out forever. I hope we will never go out of touch. I love that this game brought us all together"

One. Two. Three. Four. Ruto typed in the chat: "Marin you're going to make me cry"

One. Two. Three. Four. Mask typed in the chat: "no one cry or i will have to cry as well"

One. One. One. One. Warriors suddenly stopped playing. He typed in the chat: "im- already crying." 

And the next part of the song began.

Whoever told us that this game was nothing but time-wasting, that our time in this game is insignificant, must be an idiot who is lying, Warriors once told Ravio as such.

___ ___ ___

Warriors realizes that Ravio has been staring at him the whole day. Suspiciously staring, even. But everytime he tries to ask about it, the Vet needs Ravio for something else. So the moment they're asked to clean the storage room (it can only fit two people at best), Warriors immediately volunteers.

"My my, I thought I was the master liar around here." Ravio starts whispering as the Vet is outside of ear shot.

Warriors rolls his eyes as he sweeps out all the dust. Is this what it's all about? "Don't you dare tell him you know what I look like, or what my real name is. This town is small enough."

"That's not the only thing you lied about," Ravio seems to mumble behind the ice boxes, but before Warriors could ask, he quickly says, "but! What if I just give you a picture of his instead? For a fair price of course!" 

Warriors stares right back into Ravio's eyes, barely peeking from the boxes. That's such a valuable offer - but - does he want to know who exactly the other guy is? While still keeping his own face a secret?

"Your pick Mr. Bass Hero Sir! But I bet bassists don't pick." 

—- —- —-

"Ravio, whatever you sold him, I hope you ripped him off." Legend says once he is sure the Captain can't listen.

"Ho, it depends on what you deem a rip off. Fifty rupees for a can of Lon Lon is very much valid in my opinion. But I did try to offer interesting pics of yours-"

"Ravio for the last time, do not sell my apple tree pictures and call them 'interesting pics of mine'." Legend pinches the bridge of his nose. "Did you actually offer him that-"

"At least he didn't buy any!"

"I wonder if we can make 'Timeline Breakers' lose all their slots for the stage?" Legend asked.

"No can do, I only answer to the owner." Ravio says. "But you can totally bribe me!"

"I am the owner!" Legend says as he pretends to takes out his wallet. "How much?"

>

>

>

Extras:

___

There was a time when nothing mattered more playing online with his friends. Warriors' entire life before that was dull, he made acquaintances, not friends. He was a nobody, walking through life like a rock floating through a river.

It's strange how much a year can change someone.

Before that, they were faceless people, just words on a screen. Ravio would always say he knew everyone's faces though… 

Sometimes, Warriors wonders what would happen if all those people never logged onto the game.

He can still see his old friends in his current enemies, ironically enough. The Rancher's way of playing reminds him of Midna, despite playing different types of guitar. Sailor's tunes remind him of the songs Medli used to hum during lobbying. The Vet, well, he adorns his clothes with hibiscus. 

Funny how sometimes your friends can almost reincarnate, but they turn into your rivals instead.

Warriors might even say that makes him hate them even more. For reminding him of his old comrades. He doesn't want nostalgia right now. Maybe another day, but not today. Today is for work, and he will pretend none of that happened, just for one day. 

He wishes that had never stopped playing those four notes. Just to keep them there for a tiny, tiny bit longer.

Sometimes, he wonders what would happen if all of them still kept in touch. 

—- —- —-

--- /dear Origami JP, I hope you don't mind that I took inspiration of one of your videos to write this chapter. anyways love your music

[breannasfluff]

Swooning

“Mr. Hero!”

Ravio wheezing is not what Legend expects to hear. Yet the satin bowerbird is staring, wings fluffed and out. He points at Legend. “What are you—wearing!”

Legend looks down with a frown. “…clothes?”

“Clothes. Clothes, he says!”

The vet’s frown deepens. Was there something wrong with his outfit? Wild lent it to him for the day; it wasn’t that different from his normal halter top.

Sure, it was made of gauzy fabric, but that wasn’t so strange. It has a nice skirt to go with it. And yeah, maybe the skirt is a tad short—Legend isn’t telling Wild his taste is a little slutty, but he’s thinking it.

A little outside his norm, yes, but not worth this reaction.

Ravio doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo. He’s still pointing and resorted to fanning himself with his primaries. His face is rather red too.

“Are you okay?” It would be a pain if his flockmate passed out.

“Okay?” It edges on a screech. So, not okay.

Legend beckons him over. Ravio goes with mincing steps. The vet turns, eyes the couch, and turns to put Ravio between him and the furniture. Then he crosses his arms and cocks a hip. “What’s going on?”

Ravio goes a little bug-eyed, gives a strangled whistle, and swoons directly onto the sofa. Well. He’ll just have to figure out what’s going on later.

“Show him! Show him!” Wild is at Legend’s elbow, shoving him toward his flockmate.

Hyrule calls for Ravio—traitor. “Legend has something to show you!”

“No I don’t!”

“Yes he does! He learned a new dance!”

Legend works on prying Wild’s fingers off his elbow. “No, Wild learned a dance and taught it to me. Why don’t you show it off if you’re so gung ho?”

The champion turns an interesting shade of pink. “Oh no. Your wings are better suited for it.”

“That’s—” Legend is suddenly shoved in front of Ravio, who gives him a cheery wave. “…a lie,” he finishes lamely. Fine. Fine! He can do a silly dance.

Hyrule trills and starts singing; melodic enough to copy the tune needed. It’s just like they practiced. With a final eye roll, Legend sweeps a bow and spreads his wings. It’s not an aerial dance, so it relies on spins and feather flashes, along with dips and bows.

The vet prides himself on being a good dancer; dancing is important! He enjoys it, for all he likes to make a fuss about it. Soon he’s getting into the dance, adding little flares and feather fluffs.

His flockmate watches, riveted. Well, he’s also hissing like a tea kettle, but Legend long ago gave up on trying to figure out the nuance of every noise the merchant makes. He’s often flustered, silly bird.

With a final flourish and flair of his wings, Legend finishes with a bow. Then he straightens and darts a glance at Ravio. “So? How did I do?”

The bowerbird’s mouth is opening and closing without making a sound. No more tea kettles, then. He keeps opening and closing his wings, then resettling them. Legend works to keep his eyes on Ravio’s face and not the inner secondaries he keeps flashing. Even if they are delightful. What would it feel like to run his fingers through those sleek feathers?

Ravio makes an aborted squawk and swoons, flopping on the ground with his wings spread. With a frown, Legend turns back to Wild and Hyrule who are—giggling. “I don’t think he liked the dance,” he says, gesturing to his prone flockmate.

Wild and Hyrule just laugh harder.

Ravio is a rather clumsy bird. It could be because he’s a little absentminded walking around the shop; more focused on prices than the rug under his feet. It could be because there are no thoughts rattling around inside his brain, other than how to scam his way into more free rent. Possibly how to remove all of Legend’s red items and make it look like an accident.

Whatever the reason, though, the bowerbird has a tendency to trip. Sometimes his can save himself with a flap of his wings, but more than once he’s gone down in the dirt.

Currently, Legend is leading the way, loaded down with the items Ravio bought at the sale. His flockmate is holding things too, but Legend got stuck with the heavy stuff in one arm.

“Because of your power bracelet,” Ravio chirps when he asks. Never mind that he’s seen the merchant lift items much heavier in his bid to arrange wares. The heavy items mean flying is out, so they are picking their way across rough, rocky ground.

“Watch out for the drop here,” the vet says, wings fluttering slightly to soften the step.

The merchant ignores him, more intent on straightening his leaning pile of items. Din’s tit’s, what was he going to do with all this junk? Ravio walks straight off the edge, squawking when his foot meets air instead of ground.

Legend is read, grabbing the bowerbird with his free arm and steadying him. “Careful.” Then he turns to continue down the path. It takes a long few moments to realize that Ravio is not behind him. Actually, he’s slumped against the step he used to climb down.

With a sigh, the vet turns back to haul him up. Silly bird really needs to watch his step.

[minas-linkverse]

Rabbit Roadtrip Afterthoughts

This story arc has been a real ride! I knew it'd take long but HAHA. Oh boy! I don't mind one bit, though. I'm extremely proud of how it turned out and impressed with myself that I was able to pull it off.

I'm sure many other artists have those story ideas that come to them as theyre about to fall asleep, and the ideas sweep them up on a whole adventure. I've had plenty myself, but how often do we get to say we actually made that into reality? I bet that ratio is similar to how many wins versus losses I have in Spelunky 2. Nothing to be ashamed of, by the way!

Still, its extremely empowering to know I can take an idea like that and make it. This is proof to me that my dream of being a comic artist can be more like a plan than an idea. Thank you everyone for all the encouragement and kindness along the way, it's absolutely a massive part of why this succeeded.

I still have a lot to learn, which is exciting, but I also want to point out how different Rabbit Roadtrip ended up being from the prior ~big event~ of this comic: True faces.

I feel the art and writing has significantly improved, the quality is more consistant and I feel much more confident in my choices as a creator. I'm extatic to see how the comic will look now! How it'll look in another year or two!!

I'm a woman with a very clear idea of what I want to get out of life, and this comic has been one of those major stepping stones I've been looking for. It feels I'm right where I'm supposed to be.

Oh— Getting a bit intense there.

Once I've recovered from all that comic making, I'll be back with the next parts of the comic. I'll make sure characters that have been left to the side will finally get some time in the spotlight, now that Legend and Ravio have calmed down.

We're also planning to open the discord server for new people for a limited time!

Thanks again for the continued support and I hope all my fellow artist out there can feel this feeling. 💛

[vagueandominousvibes]

Y'ALL

Guess what I found in my drafts??

Modern Legend and Ravio fluff. That's right. I don't remember when I wrote it, and I don't remember why, but I read it and now I'm mad at myself for not continuing it because I want to know what happens next

I'm pretty sure it's LU, with Legend/Ravio being uni students, feat. Warriors playing wingman, but it could also be Modern LiWiAU? Could be read either way!

(Text under the cut)

“Let me guess —” Legend dumped two cans of cider on the kitchen island — “that woman’s still on your neck?” He pulled out the barstool next to Warriors’, hopped onto it, and opened one of the cans. It fizzed.

Warriors sighed. He pulled the second one over and opened it. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Do I want to know?”

Warriors snorted. “Probably not.”

“Fair enough.” Legend let his gaze sweep across the kitchen and living room, then through the open sliding doors, out onto the patio and lawn. Exams were over, and Wild and Hyrule had banded together with Red and Shadow to convince the rest to open the house for a party. Sky had declared he was taking Sun out for dinner, though they might join in when they returned, and Time — though he owned the house — didn’t seem too fussed. If anything, he seemed downright pleased to have an excuse to invite Malon over. Wind was ecstatic, but pouted when Twilight reminded him not to touch the alcohol.

Warriors had demanded they limit the party to invitees only, and Legend …

Legend took note of date and time, and made sure to lock his bedroom door when he went downstairs to join them. He had considered leaving for the night — maybe doing a private slumber party with Fable (take away and a shitty movie they could mimic at each other sounded really appealing) — but then he had seen Wild’s invite list and changed his mind.

As it was, Red and Blue were lounging on the lawn, watching Shadow and Vio twirl along the patio to whatever music Shadow had queued. Green, Wind, and Twilight were trying to order pizzas, while Wild and Hyrule had roped a tipsy Time into a stealing Shadow’s phone to mess with the playlist. Time, however, kept glancing forlornly over at Malon, Linkle, and Ravio, who had tucked themselves away in another corner, surrounded by pillows and blankets, with each their glass of rosé and a bottle for refills. They were having a hushed conversation over Malon’s phone. Linkle said something that made both Malon and Ravio descend into giggles. Ravio buried his face in Linkle’s shoulder, and Linkle wrapped her arm around him, grinning and catching his glass before it spilled across his lap.

Legend knew Linkle was as lesbian as a woman could be, but that didn’t keep his stomach from shifting unpleasantly. Ravio said something between giggles, and Malon doubled over in laughter. Linkle shook her head and took a sip of her rosé. Ravio made himself more comfortable against her shoulder, face flushed with mirth and alcohol. His eyes glittered.

“Business Economy?” Warriors asked.

“Master’s,” Legend replied, before he could catch himself. When he realised that he had answered, heat shot into the tips of his ears. He tore his gaze from Ravio, cleared his throat, and took a long swig of his cider. He could feel Warriors watching him, and gave him the middle finger.

Warriors laughed. His attention drifted back to Ravio, Linkle, and Malon. To Ravio. He grinned. “Kind of cute, though.”

“Fuck off.”

“He probably will if that’s your attitude.”

“Good gods, shut up.”

“If you don’t give it a shot, I might.” Warriors took a sip of his cider, gaze coming back to rest meaningfully on Legend.

Legend spluttered. “No.” He stared at Warriors. “You wouldn’t.”

Warriors raised an eyebrow. “Why not, pray tell?”

“I — you know I — that I — that is —” Legend frowned. His gaze darted back to Ravio — to the dark curls, the flushed cheeks, the soft smile. He bit the inside of his cheek. “You don’t even know him.” He turned back to Warriors, ignoring how loud his heartbeat had become in his own ears. “Do you?”

Warriors’ expression grew thoughtful. He surveyed the rest of the room.

The heartbeat stopped.

Despite the music around them, all Legend heard was silence.

“Wars?”

Warriors raised one shoulder in a shrug.

Legend held his can tighter. “Wars.”

Warriors smiled, a small shy smile that made ice course through Legend. “He comes to my self-defence classes.”

“The ones where Cia …?” They all knew there was some kind of history between Warriors and Cia, and that Cia under no circumstances was allowed into their house. It was one of the reason their house parties were strictly invitees-only.

That didn’t mean Warriors could avoid her on campus, however. Especially when Cia’s sister had pleaded with him to not get a restraining order, because Cia apparently was a changed woman. Legend didn’t believe it one second, but Warriors was too nice to say no.

Cia’s latest stunt had been to sign up to Warriors’ self-defence classes and volunteer every time he needed someone to show a new technique on.

“Yeah.” Warriors studied the top of his can. “Ravio showed up one day, picked up on it, and stayed behind to ask about it.” He chuckled. “He’s volunteered every single time since, and we’ve had lunch a few times.”

Legend wasn’t sure what he wanted to do — what he should do. He looked from Warriors, who still wore that small shy smile and soft expression behind the can, to Ravio, who had pulled his phone out and was showing Linkle and Malon something that made both of them coo (probably photos of his bird).

Ravio had never mentioned having lunch with Warriors, and only briefly the self-defence classes. Granted, Ravio didn’t talk all that much about what he did outside of lectures and their overlapping interests (Legend didn’t even know where he originally came from, just that he had moved to town for uni), but still …

“Are you —” He cleared his throat and looked away. “If you —” His jaws clenched. The rest of the words stopped in his throat, refusing to leave, to acknowledge the possibility.

“He talks about you a lot, you know.”

Legend wasn’t sure if he should be pleased or not. He glared down at his can. When had he started fiddling with his rings?

“Hey.” Warriors nudged him with his knee. “I’m not going to step on your turf.”

Legend drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He set the can down and leaned back. “If you use that phrasing again, I’m telling Linkle to send her girlfriend over to give you an impromptu lecture on feminism.”

Warriors grinned. “There we go.”

Legend glared at him.

Warriors shrugged again, still grinning. “You were fidgeting.”

“Of course I was! You were —” Legend interrupted himself with a huff.

“Please, we all know you two are basically married.”

“We’re not!”

“You lived together for two years, did ten-hour-calls when you had to take a year off to help your uncle, and since you moved in here he’s been around every other day. I swear, I wouldn’t be surprised if he even sleeps here, with the amount of times I’ve seen him at the breakfast table.”

The heat returned to Legend’s ears with full force. “So what if he does?”

Both of Warriors’ eyebrows shot up. His grin turned feline. He propped his elbow on the working top of the island and placed his head in his hand. With the sweetest voice, he asked, “Legend, are you and Ravio sleeping together?”

Legend averted his gaze and tried not to think about the number of times Ravio had stayed well into the night — the number of times they had lost themselves in conversation, sprawled on top of each other on his bed — the number of times he had pried the covers free and tucked them both in — the number of times he had woken up to Ravio’s alarm buzzing somewhere between them, and Ravio having to to get up and get home to check on Sheerow before his morning lectures — the number of times he had rolled into Ravio’s still-warm spot and buried his face in the pillow that now only smelled of Ravio’s shampoo — the pit in his stomach each time the door closed —

He forced his thoughts back to the present, where Warriors was still watching him, his expression growing closer and closer to a self-satisfied smirk.

Legend cleared his throat. “We’re not.”

“You’re not …?”

Legend sighed. His fingers were tapping against his arm. He curled them into a fist. “We share a bed, but just for, you know, actual sleep. And conversation.” His face felt warm. He laughed, avoiding eye contact. “Never that kind of conversation, but, you know. Fun stuff.” He bit the inside of his cheek and tried to force down the smile.

“Oh my gods, are you in love?”

“Am I WHAT?” Legend’s head snapped up. He stared at Warriors.

Warriors looked delighted. “You are!” He turned. “Hey, Wind! Get over —”

Legend shot forward and slapped a hand over his mouth. “No!”

Warriors licked his palm.

“That is absolutely gross.” But Fable was worse. Legend didn’t remove his hand.

Warriors rolled his eyes and drew a cross over his heart.

Legend removed his hand, grabbed Warriors’ arm, and wiped his palm on the sleeve. Then he looked up.

Everyone was staring at them. Even Ravio, Linkle, and Malon had glanced up from their conversation.

He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “He’s being an arsehole.”

Warriors spun on him. “You covered my mouth!”

“Because you were being an arsehole!”

“Because you were being a bonehead!”

“Oh, so I’m a bonehead, now? As if you would let me get away with —”

“Guys.” Twilight glared at them. “Be civil.”

Warriors smirked. “You heard him, Ledge. Be civil.”

Blood boiled in Legend’s ears. It burned his face. He jabbed a finger at Warriors. “MAYBE I WOULD BE IF YOU DIDN’T GO PRYING IN MY LOVE LIFE!” Without waiting for an answer, or looking at anyone else, he downed the rest of his cider, grabbed a plastic cup and a bottle of red wine, and stalked out of the kitchen, up the stairs, into his room. At least he had the dignity not to slam the door.

He dumped the cup and bottle on the bed and leaned against the door.

That was immature. So fucking immature.

But those two words, so pointedly directed at him, made his stomach turn into knots while his heart hammered. It made him think of weekends in his father’s grey flat with city-scape windows, after the divorce — of his father turning his nose up and his and Fable’s muddy wellington boots and colourful band aids — of underhand comments about farm life and dirt and pigsties — of hesitantly trying to get his father’s attention and of being slapped with a, “Be civil, will you?”

He never understood how his father and his uncle, born to the same parents and brought up on the same farm, could be so different.

And it hurt. Even when his mother and uncle married, and his father gave up all rights, it still hurt. He came home from school and saw his mother on her laptop in the kitchen, working away on her latest journalist piece, while his uncle bustled around her and prepared dinner, occasionally leaning down to steal a kiss. Each time, she laughed — a sound that reminded Legend of birdsong and sunlight in a tropical paradise he would only ever see in photos and movies.

He always knew that his mother was a beautiful woman. That was why his father had married her. She was a sculpture his father wanted to hold at night, made of boney arms, long golden hair, brilliant blue eyes, and a pointy chin.

Looking across the room, at the mirror on the inside of the open wardrobe door, Legend saw the same pointy chin, the same blue eyes, the same golden hair, the same boney arms. No matter what he ate or how much, he never gained any weight. He was small and spindly, all pointy knees and elbows. Nothing graceful. Nothing beautiful. Nothing civil.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He waited for it to stop.

It didn’t.

He groaned. The back of his head hit the door with a thud. He pulled the phone out and answered without looking at the display. “Fuck off, Wars, I —”

“It’s Ravio.”

He blinked. Glanced at the display. Well, fuck.

He cleared his throat and put the phone back to his ear. “Sorry. Hi.”

“Hi.” The music in the background was faint. Conversation seemed to have picked up again. Twilight shouted something about the pizzas finally being ordered. Ravio chuckled softly. “Sorry. It’s a bit loud.”

Legend snorted. “A bit.”

“Want me to bring something up for you?” Ravio’s voice was warm with a smile.

“I’ve got alcohol.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of crisps, or pizza when it arrives, but maybe myself and a cup to share the bottle?”

“It’s not that big.”

“Bunny, we both know what your alcohol tolerance is like.”

Legend folded his free arm across his chest. “It’s not that low.”

“It’s in the basement.”

“It’s not! I’ll prove it!”

“Oh yeah? From up there?”

Legend frowned. He’d walked right into that one. “Fine. Come on up. But I’m not sharing.”

Ravio laughed. “See you in a bit.”

“See you.”

The call ended. Legend looked around the room, from the clothes hanging over the top of the wardrobe door, to the uneven pile of books on his desk, to the overflowing jewellery box, to the unmade bed. A bowl of forgotten cereals and a half empty glass of apple juice stood on the nightstand. He really needed to do his laundry soon, too.

It wasn’t like Ravio hadn’t seen his room before, but Warrior’s question — are you in love? — changed everything, because what if he was? What if he did have those feelings for Ravio? What if he tried to act on them? Would Ravio even want him? He knew Ravio liked guys, but what kind of guys? Maybe he really did like the organised and graceful ones who woke up early and gave self-defence classes? Maybe those lunches weren’t just lunches?

No. That was a stupid line of thought. He knew Ravio. He knew Ravio didn’t —

But what if he did?

He thought of Warriors’ shy smile. He was almost tempted to text Ravio to say, “Never mind,” but threw his phone on the bed before he could act on it. There wasn’t anything going on between Warriors and Ravio. If there was, he would have known, because Warriors didn’t know the first thing about discretion, and they all spent enough time under Time’s roof to basically share the place.

Without any other goal in mind than making it look tidy, he stuffed his clothes into the wardrobe and closed it, straightened his laundry bag, stuffed the books into his backpack, moved the bowl and glass to the desk, set the bottle of red wine, the cup, and his phone on the nightstand, and fluffed up the pillows on his bed. He tried to adjust the covers, to tuck them in and fold up the spare blankets, but —

A light knock.

Kneeling at the edge of bed, he looked around the room. It didn’t look much better. He should have vacuumed at some point. Maybe opened the window. The jewellery box was still open.

His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Yeah?”

The door opened. Ravio leaned in, gaze sweeping across the room until it settled on Legend. He smiled. “There you are. Can I …?”

Legend nodded. “Lock the door.”

Ravio entered and shut the door behind himself. The lock clicked.

And then there was silence.

Ravio’s hand was still on the lock, but he was watching Legend, and Legend was still kneeling at the edge of the bed, watching Ravio. Maybe it was the dim lighting of the fairy lights Hyrule had draped around the door last winter, or the faint glimmer of streetlights outside the bedroom window, but Ravio looked ethereal. There had always been an uncanny similarity between them — same chin, same nose, same eye shape — but whereas Legend was a stick figure, Ravio was more filled out. Muscles and soft padding stuck where they should, and even in the oversized purple hoodie he liked to hide in, he looked much more welcoming than Legend ever felt.

Tonight, the sleeves of the hoodie were pushed up to reveal colourful wristbands woven with wooden beads. There was a small tattoo of a bunny on the inside of the left wrist. The skin was darker than Legend’s pasty white. He wondered if Ravio had ever been to any of the tropical paradises in the photos and movies.

“Link?”

He dragged his gaze up from Ravio’s arms to Ravio’s face — to the glittering green eyes, the tentative smile, the dimples. The urge to drag his fingers through the curls, to feel Ravio’s cheeks against his palms, to press his lips against Ravio’s — it hit somewhere in his lower gut. His mouth went dry. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

He forced himself to meet Ravio’s gaze and tried to smile. He wasn’t sure he managed. “What do you mean?”

Ravio approached and sat at the edge, next to him. Only now did Legend notice Ravio was holding a half-empty bottle of rosé and a cup. Ravio placed them on the floor and leaned back on his hands. His cheeks were still flushed with alcohol, but his eyes were clear and observant as he studied Legend.

He huffed, grabbed Legend’s hand, and tugged. “Sit. You’re too tall.”

Legend snorted. “That’s a first.” Still, he sat.

Ravio didn’t let go, just continued studying him.

“So?” Legend asked.

“Shhh.”

Legend sighed and rolled his eyes. His ears burned. He waited.

Eventually, Ravio flopped onto the bed and tugged him along. Ravio arranged Legend’s arm so he could rest his head on Legend’s chest. Without thinking, Legend wrapped the arm around him. Ravio sighed contentedly.

The silence that settled was warm and comfortable. Faint music, voices, and laughter drifted through the floor and in under the door. A car rolled past outside. The front door opened and closed as Sky and Sun came back from their dinner date.

Legend closed his eyes and found himself tracing patterns into Ravio’s shoulder — flowers, spirals, disjointed letters and looping words.

“What happened between you and Wars?”

He opened his eyes.

Ravio’s voice was soft, but oddly heavy in the otherwise silent room.

“We were just talking.”

“He was prying into your love life.”

“Ah.” So Ravio had heard that. Legend winced.

Ravio propped himself up on an elbow and met Legend’s gaze. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. Legend knew he was waiting.

He cleared his throat. “He asked if I was in love.”

Ravio’s face remained carefully unreadable. “And are you?”

Legend’s mouth dried up. He held Ravio’s gaze, unable to look away, and tucked Ravio’s hair back. It was soft, curls wrapping around his fingers in a way that made him keep his hand there, palm against Ravio’s cheek. “Maybe.” He wasn’t entirely sure he said it out loud.

Ravio didn’t move.

Legend tried to swallow. “I could be.” He forced himself to let go. “What about you?”

A tiny smile. Ravio brushed Legend’s hair back. Gentle fingers traced the outline of his face, all the way down to his chin, and Legend bit the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the quiet sound that wanted to escape.

Ravio’s voice was soft when he said, “I could be.”