#could be read as linked universe

[localicecreambiter]

Writing Warm-up: 7th times the Charm

I haven't written anything substantial in a long while so I decided to crank out a little thing for some practice. I didn't proof read so forgive the mistakes and terrible writing flow

my first actual loz piece

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"What can I do to help?"

It was always the same question. The same tone. The longer he knew the other, the more sure he grew that Link wasn't even aware it was something he did. The Hylian was just helpful by nature; a heart pure and true is what Ravio always said. Too nice for his own good.

So when a group of self proclaimed heros knocked on his dear friend's door, asking for Link to help on another quest, Ravio couldn't say he was surprised.

Lorule was a land buzzing with magic, despite the (previously) lack of triforce. It was a kingdom filled with strange monsters, items, and people. So to say the Lolian was magically inclined would be an understatement. Identifying Hyrule's magic had been challenging initially. Despite the similarities, there was a distinct difference in magical presence that threw the merchant off at points. Just as their lands mirrored not exactly the same, the magic reflected in kind. While he tended to get confused, there was no denying the glaringly obvious: these heros held the exact same magic Link harbored.

It was something unexplainable, not through words, at the very least. Call it a gut feeling, but he just knew.

Wisdom had always been drawn to courage anyhow.

The small cottage atop a hill in central Hyrule had never felt so empty as Link saddled his adventuring bag. His excitement betrayed the cool persona he attempted to keep, fidgety digits readjusting his bag strap every few seconds. They would make eye contact every so often as the party trotted along the pebbled road, greenery edging his vision. That was the toughest part about being friends with a hero: the guy had responsibilities set upon him by the goddess. No matter how much Link grumbled and complained, cursed and forsaken, he always did his duty at the end of the day.

It was one of the numerous things that set them so far apart.

He shook his head, vowing he had let go of that insecurity years ago. He wasn't 14 anymore, he wasn't the failed hero of Lorule. He was a merchant, and a friend of the hero of Hyrule. He wanted nothing more, nothing less. So when Link swung around to offer one last goodbye, pride swelled inside the cowardly rabbit.

"Try and make it back in one piece, pal." He tried for a smile, lip quivering with emotion. "Sheerow and I will always be rooting for you back home, so don't let us down buddy."

Link only shook his head, smirk doing nothing to hide the fondness on his face. "Yeah yeah, no promises. Make sure my house doesn't burn down… And don't pawn off my stuff." The pointed look was playful, they both knew he would never dream of it.

They could stand there and banter all day, but Ravio knew Link had more important places to be.

"I'll see you later." Not a question, nor an offer, but a fact. The merchant could do nothing but nod for fear he'd lose his composure. There was always some uncertainty when leaving for an adventure, but if Link was anything, it was reliable.

He always made it home without fail.

And as the portal closed, he was reminded of how fast things can change in a single moment.

There was always a constant, and as he turned to make the trek back to the empty feeling cottage on a hill in central Hyrule, he hoped silently Link would be that constant.

The odds were six to nothing. A reassuring ratio.

The Lolian smiled, he could live with those odds.

Link would be home before he knew it.

@kaite--s i figured you'd wanna see this since we've been discussing (but seeing as you lurk in the ravio tags as much as I do im sure you would have found it eventually)

[mothfables]

♡ Bunny Flops ♡ - Part Two

(Legend has like 0.5 seconds of angst cause ✨trauma✨, but then it’s just fluff <3)

The second time it happens, the Chain is taking a much-needed break at Lon Lon Ranch. Several weeks have gone by since the first Incident (as they’ve taken to calling it when Legend isn’t around to hear), and it’s mostly passed from everyone’s minds by now.

Legend refused to answer any of their questions, growing embarrassed and awkward any time someone brought it up. Eventually they gave up and let him be, to his relief. He doesn’t want any of them knowing it’s a holdover from his Dark World form - or that he suspects that isn’t the only reason for his more...rabbit-like tendencies. Luckily (or, perhaps, unluckily in this case), those tendencies really only show themselves when he feels truly comfortable and safe, with a few exceptions.

(He doesn’t want to think about what it means that it’s happened around the other heroes. Thinking about it means acknowledging it, and acknowledging it means he has to face the fact that he’s let himself get close. Close to people who will just get taken away go away again.)

(He can’t go through that again. He can’t.)

As it is, Legend is curled up on the rug in front of the fire in the main house, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug and a fluffy blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Quiet chatter mixed with soft music flows around him. Chores are done for the day, none of his weapons are in need of maintenance, his belly is full, and he’s warm and cozy in a house that makes him feel as safe as he’s ever been.

Legend feels himself start to drift, his mind growing hazy and soft. Each blink is longer than the last, and he fumbles to keep from spilling his drink as he begins to drift off. Someone takes it from him, their hands gently easing it from his own, before patting him on the head. Half-asleep, he barely registers giving a soft chirring purr in response to the affection, hearing the other chuckle warmly as they continue petting his hair.

Sky smiles down at him as the younger hero begins to doze. He pauses for a moment to twist around, searching for the coffee table so he can put down the mug he’d taken from sleepy hands. Once that’s done, he turns back around to continue his ministrations, only to blink as he realizes the other boy is not where he’d left him.

He glances around, confused, before looking down and seeing Legend curled up on his side before the fire, blanket clutched in his thin hands and violet eyes blinking sleepily into the flames. Giving a relieved sigh, Sky shuffles closer and lays a hand on soft pink locks. Legend starts purring again as Sky gently pets his hair.

He only half-listens to the sounds of the other heroes in the room with him, most of his attention on the cozy bundle before him that is the young hero. As he weaves his hand through his hair, marveling at the softness of it, he senses more than sees someone moving to sit next to him.

“He’s doing it again, huh?” Warriors’ voice, hushed in the quiet peace that’s settled over them all, comes from his left. He joins Sky in reaching out and laying a gentle hand on Legend’s arm. The Vet sniffles once before sighing. Wars runs his hand along his arm in a soothing motion, and his eyes slip shut as he finally nods off.

“So, it’s not anything to worry about then, do you think?” Sky asks, keeping his voice low. “Since he’s just sleeping when he does this?” ‘This’ being tipping over and falling asleep with ease as compared to the restless, guarded nights they’re all used to.

Wars shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. This is-” he stops, looking for the right words. Sky nods; he understands what his brother means.

This is an incredible show of trust. For the Veteran, prickly and snappish and guarded to his core, this may very well be the equivalent of lowering every wall he has and opening the door straight to his heart. Sky’s own heart warms at the realization. He lets himself trust that they will not hurt him, and in turn allows them to protect and care for him at his most vulnerable.

The Chosen Hero turns his head to meet the Captain’s eyes. They both nod, coming to an unspoken agreement that they will do everything they can to keep this trust. Their brother deserves to be able to let his guard down, to be able to open himself up, to know he has people he can depend on, and that none of it will be taken from him.

With a content sigh, Sky lets himself lean into Warriors, resting his head on his shoulder. They each keep a hand on their sleeping brother, protective and soothing both. The two of them will keep watch over their brother tonight, here in this house of safety and warmth and love, to make the most of every ounce of trust they’ve been given.

<< First : Last >>

[jewlist]

“And if I do touch them,” he hisses. “If I say use this sword” — In one swift motion he scoops Time’s sword off of the ground, holding it up so that the blade gleams — “to slit their necks what will you do? Will you don the Deity mask that sits in the pouch at your hip? Will you follow me across time? Hunt me down?”

A piece I drew inspired by this fic by @adrift-in-thyme.

bonus close-up under the cut:

[trippygalaxy]

Okay so- idk if its just me reading too much into it (which it most likely is) but as anyone noticed how Time’s marking have been getting less and less colourful??

Like

This is his markings in the most recent comic, which is obviously taken place during the early morning if not mid day but also after the recovery of Twilight

But then

These are much more vibrant and saturated, and these were during or before Twilight was gravely injured by the shadow. But they are also in scenes with a lot less natural lighting

Anyways, i dont really know what this means, if it means anything, but it is something i noticed!

(I tried to grab more recent comics just cause i know how artstyles can definitely change over the years, and that goes for colouring/rendering too! This could genuinely be just the lighting of the scene as well!)

[raycatz]

I'm not including a situation where someone might be injured because in that case I'm thinking the bed goes to them by default or they are nominated for it. anyone who wants to be chatty goes to join the living room floor gang.

What are your thoughts and headcanons? Do you have thoughts on how the boys tend to approach assigning beds in inns? Who do the chain choose to sleep near when camping and why? What are their dynamics like when settling down for the night and getting ready for the day?

In "Mirror Vs Open Closet Door: Fight!" by Gintrinsic (here) Four refers to the chain's decision on how to split up between inn rooms as the "Link-per-room ratio" which I find very funny. He, Sky, and Time also talk about their thought process behind why they do or don't want to sleep in a room with some of the others which I find fun and interesting.

So! If you have thoughts and want to share them! *gestures to the post!*

[bluevaractyl]

I am once again wishing that long ago, the majority of the fandom had chosen to use "Warrior" instead of "Warriors." It is too deeply entrenched now, though. Oh well.

*glances wistfully at all the blue underlines in my word document*

[adrift-in-thyme]

@thepinklink Plink you lovely human I come bearing Legend whump for you <33

I'm so glad you met and I've absolutely loved chatting with you these last few days! I look forward to many more conversations <3

Now, this fic kinda got out of hand (*stares at word count* I...did not expect it to get that long I promise), so I'm gonna hide it beneath the cut. But first, warnings!

CW for poisoning, vomiting, blood and injury, harm to animals, and some trafficking vibes (it's not trafficking specifically and isn't related to such harm to humans. But still, be careful)

Oh yeah and you can also read this on ao3

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Legend moves on feather-light feet. His cape swishes gently around him, its silken folds embracing his slight form. Not for the first time he thinks how lucky he is to have it. To possess the ability to become invisible is an invaluable skill. Especially, in situations like this one.

“Come on, rancher. I know you’re here.”

He steps around another row of empty crates, their metal bars dinged and scratched from previous occupants. He can feel their presence still lingering, calling out in panicked voices few humans can understand.

“Help us!” They cry and every word makes his ears prick up, listening even as he tries not to. “Set us free!”

Roughly, Legend swipes at his eyes. 

Find Twilight and get out of this cursed place — those are his only objectives. And the sooner he completes it, the better.

He tugs his cape closer about his throat and tightens his grip on his sword. Determinedly, he moves forward.

It seems like forever before the telltale sound of snuffling reaches his ears. Legend perks up, ears pricking at the noise. He can hardly pick out the rancher’s distinctive wolf scent through the stench of dozens of past captives. Still, this place has been empty up until now. Empty and horrid and dark.

So too have been the countless cages scattered about the wide space. But the one Legend can see now tucked awkwardly into a tight corner…that one is occupied.

A large, gray wolf is curled within it, ears drooping in defeat and blood on his paws. His breaths come fast, an edge of panic and pain hitching the end of every one.

Legend’s heart clenches despite himself. 

I’m coming, Twi. Just hold on.

Furtively, he glances around. No figures move in the shadows, no one steps into the dim light. But the goddesses only know how long he has before someone arrives. 

Legend takes a deep breath and rushes forward.

Twilight’s ears prick up at the sound of pattering feet. He raises his head, tired eyes searching for the disturbance. Fear quickly turns them razor-sharp. A growl rumbles in his throat, low and hoarse, but threatening all the same.

Quickly, Legend lowers his hood. He’s sure that a floating head isn’t the most reassuring thing in the world, but still, it’s better than nothing. And he is unwilling to remove his entire cape just yet. With luck, he can conceal Twilight beneath it as well. 

“Hey, hey quiet,” he hisses, holding up invisible hands. “You’re gonna alert the creeps.”

Twilight pauses in the act of rising to his feet, head cocked like one of the stable dogs in Wild’s Hyrule. Legend’s lips lift slightly. He reaches for the lock with one hand, retrieves a cluster of keys from his pouch with the other. 

He found them earlier, hanging on the wall from a hook. A paltry attempt at looking professional, in his opinion. Real villains conceal the keys in their cloaks or attach them to their souls with the darkest of magics, unreachable by any who lack the strength to defeat them.

He’s fortunate, though. Fortunate, that they weren’t smart enough to do either. 

“I’m gonna get you out of here,” he murmurs. 

Ring-adorned fingers slide over the collection of keys, magic rifling silently through them, searching for the one that fits the cage. It weaves with elegant grace between them, selects the right one, confidently raises it like a pointing finger. Legend grasps it and fits it into the lock.

The padlock plummets into his waiting palm.

“Alright, let’s get out of this place,” he breathes. And burn it down on the way out. “Can you walk?”

Twilight dips his head. Slowly, he limps out of the cage. A cold nose bumps against Legend’s cheek, leaving a smear of wetness there. The veteran swipes grumpily at it.

“Yeah, yeah you’re welcome. Now, let’s get out of here before somebody discovers us.”

Pulling his hood back over his head, he nudges the rancher into the safety of his cloak. Matted fur scrapes against his legs as they begin to walk. No doubt Twilight is leaving a trail of bloodied paw prints behind. But there’s nothing much Legend can do about that. Except, of course, pick up the pace.

At the rate they’re going, it’ll take them thirty minutes just to reach the double doors. By that time someone will have entered the room, noticed the marks, and begun a search. And though the cape is wonderful for concealing physical forms, it does little in the way of softening sounds.

Twilight stumbles, a low whine escaping before he can stop it. Something damp and clammy slides down Legend’s legs. The veteran reaches down and sets a hand on the rancher’s head.

“Hang on,” he whispers, and the wolf nudges him again in response.

Legend inhales deeply and blows it out. His eyes flit back and forth, searching for hidden adversaries. Every limping, laborious step brings them closer to their escape. Yet, it seems so far…

If he could lift the wolf, that would be helpful. One kick of his pegasus boots and they’d speed right on out of here. But Twilight isn’t light and Legend is already expending quite a lot of magic to keep them both hidden. 

Slow and steady is their only choice, then, he thinks, with a huffed sigh. Because it can just never be easy. 

If he’s lucky, though, it will be enough. 

But he is hardly the luckiest guy on earth. 

They have made little in the way of progress when a door slides open behind them. It glides softly on its hinges, showcasing a rather large grouping of shadows. They stretch along the floor in front of the two heroes. 

Legend stares down at them, heart in his throat. He dares not turn around to see who they belong to. Instead, he eases down into the shelter of a small enclosure of crates. 

Twilight lowers himself with a haggard sigh. But that terror still remains poignant in the piercing blues of his irises. And when he turns to peek at the doorway, his breathing speeds up.

What were those sadists planning to do to him? Legend wonders, fingers coming to rest in thick fur. He hopes it’s a reassuring gesture. What have they already done? 

“You said you had another test subject for me.” It’s a woman’s voice, sharp and calloused, like a hand that has held a weapon too many times. “Where is it?” 

“Right this way ma’am.” 

Large figures fumble to allow her a way forward. Legend tenses as the shadows grow darker, shorter. His fingers tighten, drawing a small comfort from the feel of his sword hilt in their grasp. 

The group approaches, passes by without even turning in his direction. He doesn’t allow himself a sigh of relief. They still haven’t reached the cage.

When they do, he knows it.

“He’s right — wait a minute! Where’d he go?”

Panic pitches gravelly voices higher.

“He was right here! I swear!”

“What you swore,” the woman hisses, “was that there would be a wolf waiting for me. A wolf with the power to turn into a man. 

“You swore to me that your price would be worth paying. Evidently, I trusted the wrong people.”

The room suddenly tenses, air thickening and growing sharp. Like a dagger readying to be thrown. 

Legend’s breath catches in his throat. Dark magic. He’s suffocating on it.

Somewhere, something makes a sickening squelch. A scream sends the pressure spiraling.

“No, n-no need for further violence! I can fix this, I swear!” 

The shadows darken once more. A man backs towards their spot, hands raised. 

“He’s here,” she says with icy decisiveness. “I can feel him.” 

The air goes taut again. She is closer than ever now, eagle’s eyes scanning for her prey. Twilight is rigid. Legend’s fingernails dig into his palm. 

“Them. I can feel them. There’s two of them now. Find them both, or suffer the same fate as your companion.”

Burly men the size of his uncle trip over themselves, sputtering promises and reassurances. They fan out, weapons in their hands. 

But the woman only grows closer. Legend can smell her now — rotting flesh and chu jelly and bokoblin innards, all attempting to hide beneath a layer of costly perfumes.

Legend presses a hand to his nose, fighting not to retch. Beside him, Twilight shudders.

“You’re near,” she purrs. Hands marred by too many magical experiments reach out, taloned nails beckoning. “I can smell your fear. Come out and I won’t hurt you.” 

Nearby, a stack of cages topple with a deafening crash. Legend flinches despite himself. Loud noises have always affected him strongly. Every one feels like an assault to his ears. But in this moment, with the tension and the terror, with a hundred different plans whirring in his mind, it feels like an explosion in his skull.

“Yes. I feel your despair as well.” 

She is even nearer now. Legend can see her hideous form, monstrous and gnarled and emanating dark power. Like a witch from the illustrated story books Uncle read him as a boy.

“Come out, little heroes. Come out.”

Legend inhales a shallow breath. He’s going to have to, at some point. She isn’t going to let up — that much is certain. 

But that doesn’t mean he can’t still try to evade her.

Closing his eyes, he sections off some of his magic. There is a separate path from the main one, one more violent, more…explosive. A simple nudge and eagerly, his magic streaks down it.

Legend nudges Twilight in the side. 

Get ready.

One second passes, then two more. Off to their left, crates and cages and men go flying in an eruption of crackling detonations. 

Legend works quickly, pouring more magic in, causing more explosions. They heat the air, send objects and people hurtling. Screams of pain and shouts of fear ring out.

The woman whirls for just a moment. And that’s enough. It has to be.

The veteran leaps to his feet. They can’t run — what Twilight achieves is more of a hobbling jog than anything else — but maybe, just maybe if they keep up this panicked pace they’ll have a chance…

Something streaks through the air, sharp and vicious, searching. It’s pure magic at first, a dark power he tries to evade, to shield them against. But his efforts only draw it to him further. It speeds up, ravenous and eager, zipping towards him. And the next thing he knows, a dagger is embedded in his bicep. 

Legend chokes on a sudden mouthful of blood. He tries to remain quiet, he tries. But the cry breaks free anyway, agonized and cut off, screamed through gritted teeth. 

Wrong, his body and mind screech as something horrible and icy slides off of the blade and into his veins. Wrong, dangerous, getitoutgetitoutgetitout

Trembling fingers reach for the hilt. But before he can drag it out another wave of magic hits. He screams, grip on his own spell loosening. He clambers to grasp it again, slips, falls. The cloak retreats into his pouch.

“There you are,” the woman hisses.

The ground bucks beneath his feet.

The desperate spark of hope that had blossomed in Legend’s chest shatters completely. And he falls along with it, colliding with the ground with skull-shattering force. 

Stars explode in his vision, bursting in eruptions of blinding, electric lights. Somewhere, past the roar filling his ears and head, past the thundering pound of his heart, Legend hears Twilight’s growl.

Nails clatter over the ground. Seconds later, a heavy object slams into the floor beside him, whimpers, and goes terribly limp.

Panic splits through the agony and confusion. Legend curls his hands into fists, blinking furiously in an attempt to see straight again.

Come on. Get up. Fight before they kill you both.

He grasps the dagger, yanks it out. His limbs scream as they move. Blood splatters onto the floor, creating large puddles of greenish-maroon. He tastes the tang of iron, the bite of bile, and…something else. It seems to emanate from him, a strange, vile thing. Tasteless, yet disgusting; icy, yet flaming hot. 

Legend shudders, suddenly nauseated. But he hefts his sword more firmly in his grip and turns to face the woman. 

“You are a strong one, boy,” she says, face splitting in a leering grin. “That dosage should have killed someone your size, instantly. Yet, here you are.” 

“What can I say?” The words are slurred. Legend stumbles as he steps forward, struggling to see past the blur the room is quickly becoming. “I’m full of surprises.”

He thinks the woman’s grin grows larger. But maybe that is only one of the illusions his eyes are forcing upon him. Either way, he hears her words quite clearly.

“I’m certain of it. Not to worry, though. You’ll be dead soon enough.” She nods to the men that have gathered around her. “Go. Get what is rightfully mine.”

They start forward. Legend grits his teeth and steps back toward where Twilight lies, still twitching from the effects of the spell that had hit him. 

“Just try and touch him,” Legend growls. “Know that spell that blew your friends sky high? There’s more where that came from.”

For a split second, there is the slightest glimmer of fear in their eyes. But then the ground dives down, down, down beneath his feet. Pain streaks through his head, as though someone has driven a stake through his skull.

Legend pitches forward and vomits.

Laughter assaults his ears as he fights to compose himself. Darkness tinges the edges of his vision. Oblivion beckons him. 

Let go, it whispers. It doesn’t hurt here. 

He bats it away, steels himself, straightens. Blood and bile dribble down his chin, and he doesn’t bother to wipe them away.

“Give up,” one man orders between barking chuckles. “You’re already dead.”

Legend lists to the side and grins, all sharp, blood-tinged teeth. 

“Not yet, I’m n-not.”

Magic streaks through constricted veins, scraping as it goes. With an agonized scream, he sends it forward. The room lights up with streaks of greenish light. 

He crumples in the wake of it, choking on a mouthful of blood, dragging thin gasps of air through failing lungs. His stomach heaves again, desperate to rid itself of the poison his heart pumps through him. But there is nothing for it to expel. 

Agony holds him in an iron-fisted grip, turning his limbs stiff and immovable, making his head spin and pound. The darkness claims more of his sight. Still, he battles it. 

He has to stay awake — for Twilight’s sake, for his own. He’s made it this far. He’ll be damned if he gives up now.

Cackles reach his ears. Slowly, he lifts his head.

The fallen bodies of his enemies lie strewn about, still smoldering. The sight brings bile back into his throat. He hates killing, no matter what the deceased people might have done. And yet, there had been no other choice. 

The woman, however, seems to have come out relatively unscathed. 

Shielding spell, Legend’s mind so helpfully supplies. A harsh curse bubbles out from between bloodied lips. 

“You truly are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

A bolt of electric power collides with his chest. Legend goes flying, hits a stack of crates, and collapses. His breath is merely a wheeze now, though he can’t tell if that’s from the poison or the broken bone currently skewering his lung. 

Both, probably. 

The woman advances. Legend tries to sit up and fails. His entire body is on fire now. Shudders wrack him. Everything smells of blood and vomit and poison. The room spins like a leever; his surroundings blur like smudged charcoal.

He coughs and more greenish-red hits the floor.

“I would keep you, you know. To examine and experiment on. But it seems the poison has already done irreversible damage.” 

A flick of a finger and Legend is propelled upwards. Seconds later, he hits the floor again with an earth-shattering crack. 

The pain of broken bones joins all else. He thinks he screams. He can’t be certain. 

He knows that he can’t breathe anymore. All his lungs are capable of are paltry, wheezing attempts. He’s suffocating, drowning in blood and poison. He’s back on the sea, battling against waves taller than Hyrule Castle, fear growing stronger with each one that floods the deck of his little boat.

“I see no reason to spend precious power on saving your life. Perhaps, you can save yourself. I doubt it though. After the spells you cast, you likely don’t have enough magic left within you to heal a nicked finger.”

She is right upon him now, presence smothering. Legend blinks, slowly. Everything feels very, very far away. If he releases his grip now, will he plummet? Or will everything simply fade away, leaving him to float on waves of grayish nothingness? Empty. Alone. 

Maybe it will feel better then, being unattached, emotionless. Maybe…maybe it won’t hurt so very much…

Fire screams in his veins, burning muscle and flesh and bone, devouring his insides. Blood fills his throat. His breath rattles in his veins. A tear slides down Legend’s cheek. Its icy touch is almost soothing. 

His grip on something resembling consciousness slips. He tries to inhale again. His lungs do not expand to fill his foggy request. 

The last thing he sees before his eyes flutter closed is a wolf leaping forward and closing its jaw around the woman’s neck.

She shrieks, blood spurts, and it all goes dark.

….

“...end! Legend!”

Protesting eyes flutter open, beckoned by a voice he knows. Sharp, gray-blue eyes gaze down at him from a pale face streaked with crimson. 

“Ra-ranch–”

Legend drags in a wheezing breath and chokes on the word. Twilight holds him closer, nudging his sweat-soaked bangs aside.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m here.”

A calloused hand encases his frigid one. Legend tries to squeeze it. But his muscles won’t cooperate. Everything still burns. He yearns for the darkness to cover him again. He yearns to not feel.

Are you okay? Is what he means to say.

“Hurts,” is all that comes out.

Twilight’s expression shatters. There are tear streaks on his cheeks, the veteran realizes, dimly. They shouldn’t be there.

“I know, buddy.” The world shifts and Legend squeezes his eyes shut against it. Something cold and smooth presses to his lips. “Drink this. It’s all I’ve got but it’s enough to keep you alive.”

Bittersweet silk slides down his throat. Obediently, Legend swallows it. It soothes all the way down, knitting bones and flesh back together, nudging the wrongness out of his veins. 

Not completely. Not even close. But it’s something, and Legend is grateful for it.

“Okay?” Twilight asks, and the veteran offers a jerky nod. “Alright, then I’m gonna get you out of here.”

Again, his surroundings tip. Legend swallows against the urge to vomit.

“No,” he croaks in a barely audible whisper, “…I-I was ‘posed to get y-you outta here.”

The world begins to move like the endlessly churning walkways he had endured in the dungeons of Koholint. His head bumps against something wonderfully soft, and he leans into it. A heartbeat drums softly in his ears.

“‘M sorry.” 

It is merely a sigh. Twilight hears it anyway.

“It’s okay, vet,” he assures him, as thick darkness envelopes him again. “You did great. You saved me.

“Now, let me save you.”

Somewhere in the fuzz of oncoming unconsciousness and potion and pain, Legend has the urge to laugh.

Save him? He’s the veteran of hero business. He shouldn’t need saving.

But the heart keeps beating like a distant drum; and the softness drags him into it, tickling his nostrils and caressing his face; and the arms that hold him remain steady even as the world churns like waves on the sea. And before long Legend is gone, adrift once more in an abyss of blessed oblivion.

[narsh-poptarts]

Women Fear Me Fish Fear Me I Am Alone On This Wretched Earth dot png

[illyth]

Me, after getting completely burnt out by a job and not writing creatively for like four years: man I really should think about writing something again. I just need to find something I am passionate about to use as a jumping off point *immediately starts writing LU fanfic*

I'm gonna post the full thing on AO3 either tomorrow or Sunday but for the time being I just wanted to share this somewhere. This is a 400 word excerpt of a single chapter that is maybe half written and already 2000 words and I am planning on there being 3 chapters total so hand to god trust me there will be context at some point (if you know me irl no you don't jk y'all know im a complete gremlin for fanfic) Idk how good it is exactly but its the first thing I have written in so long that I actually want other people to see and I crave feedback, so do with that what you will lmao

cw: violence, blood, injury, the slightest body horror

Time and the Deity both snarled, lunging the god’s blade forward. Majora flung itself forward as well, its inhuman screams reaching a frenzied pitch as it whipped its clawlike hands towards the Deity’s face. Behind it, he could see the length of the helix greatsword erupting from the monstrosity’s back, spraying black blood outwards into the moonlight. But Majora pushed forward still, and Time could feel the Deity’s revulsion as its fingers grasped the sides of their face. Time braced himself for it to rake its claws against his face in dying spite, but something changed. Gently, oh so gently, Majora sank its claws into the flesh below his ears. The Deity screamed in rage and pain, but Time felt no pain. Instead, Time felt callused fingers slip into the seams between the Deity’s consciousness and his own and felt roughly textured knuckles run across his face while the Fierce Deity’s power was pulled from him. In a brief flash of light, Time felt the Fierce Deity fully recede back to his mask.

Time came back to himself holding the Fierce Deity’s blade as it began slowly dissolving into light, the crimson blood dripping from its edges and darkening the dirt beneath them. His mind was hazy and unfocused, as if stunned by a thunderclap. His faculties began returning, but there was a lethargy to them he just couldn’t shake. A distant corner of his brain recognized his brothers in the background, but whatever they were saying couldn’t pierce the numbing in his ears. Inches away from him, Time saw the host of Majora begin trembling. The Fierce Deity’s mask slipped through scarred fingers and dropped to the ground. The host reached towards Majora’s mask with a black arm that was covered in elaborate etchings and ornamentation. After a moment, the cursed mask came loose before also dropping to the ground, clattering off the Deity’s mask. All sound was muffled save for the plip of blood drops staining the masks below as Time’s mind struggled to process the sight in front of him “…Wild?” he managed to wheeze out after a moment’s pause. This didn’t make any sense. Where did Majora go? And why was Wild standing right where-

Time’s thoughts ground to a halt as he looked lower. The helix blade wielded by the Deity, shaking slighting in his weakening grip, was rammed through Wild’s chest to the hilt.

[arecaceae175]

And tell me why in the tags!

[catreginae]

Another LU idea that I might not write because nothing is working out so far (because you know, my life).

At the end of Hyrule Warriors, Warriors just collapses. Could be all the collective injuries from taking down Ganon, combined with the exhaustion, and maybe a good ol' infected wound or two. Whatever the reason, he collapses in front of Mask and his condition isn't great.

And when it's time for all the time-displaced to go home, he still's unconscious.

Masks tries to fight against going home because he doesn't want to leave until he knows Warriors will be fine. He's forced back anyway. He leaves not knowing if Warriors even survived. He lives for years, wondering if Warriors is okay.

Come LU and Time gets to meet some of the other heroes, but Warriors isn't among them. He thinks to meet that mayb Warriors died after all and that's why he they haven't been reunited. However, he can't voice why he is so worried.

But Warriors just happens to be the last to join the chain. He pulled through just fine, trying to ignore the fact that a lot of his friends left and he never got to say goodbye.

[boysofhyrule]

Groose AU pt15: Sweet, Hylia, item, trading

Impa and Linebeck II slowly climb out of the boat that fell from the sky while dave flys down and lands on Linebeck head

Linebeck II: I’m alive?

Dave: Unfortunately for us yes you are *chirp*

Impa: Both you shut up I’m trying not to-

Groose: IMPA!

Impa: Great now I’m hearing Groose, how hard did I hit my head

Dave: Well we did fall from the sky *Bird sound*

Groose is running towards them

Groose: IMPA!

Impa: Great now I’m seeing him

Linebeck:Oh I see him too

Impa: Wait what? GROOSE?

Groose: Impa! 🥰

Impa: GROOSE! 😅

Impa starts running to groose

Groose: IMPA! 🥹

Impa: Groose! 😤

Groose: Impa? 🥺

Impa: GROOSE! 😡

When they collide impa decks Groose in the face then flips him over her shoulder and straddles on-top of him

Dave, Lana, General Impa, Linebeck, Randall, Ruto, Queen Zelda, and Fi: 😬😨🥳😪😂🤭🫣🫥

Impa: DO YOU KNOW THE SWEET HIYLA’s ITEM TRADING THAT I HAD TO GO THROUGH BECAUSE OF YOU?

Groose: N-no 😵‍💫

Impa: I had to deal with him for 2 weeks!

She points to Linebeck

Linebeck: Hey!

Impa grabs Groose by his hair spike

Impa: Next time you go through a portal you talk to me first, this is the second time you’ve done this! Got it?

Groose: Yes ma’am

Impa: Good, now then-

She pulls his head closer by his red hair, tilts her head and kisses him~

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Shadow Day 6

Shadow Beast

The Twilight Princess fan in me really came out on this one huh? I blame the sleep deprivation. We never quite addressed the effects of the Twili Magic on Twilight and how it's only sheer force of will and the fact he's so darn kind, Midna's influence and Time teaching him the Song of Healing first being the main factor in making sure he doesn't fall huh? Even more so than the One Cutscene. We also need to talk more about the fact we technically kill Midna's people and how by the end of it all Twi is so changed by the Twilight Realm who's it's own can of worms that, much like Time he can't quite go home as himself me thinks, as a treat to myself

Mostly Twilight x Reader, this goes out to all of the folks who never quite recovered from Twilight Princess and the fact we never got that sequel (I mean it gave us BOTW and TOTK and Wild, but at what cost?), but can be read as Link x Reader either on the platonic or romantic.

Don't think there's any warning this time but might edit later if needed.

Actually yeah there is one warning

TW:

References to body horror typical to Twilight Princess, though I recommend not reading it I'd you're squeamish period.

Even after so long, you and Twilight could still remember the beauty and solemnity of the Twilight Realm, with it’s zircon skies with clouds of trapped fire and rains of viper obsidian.

The silence of the infection upon the realm of light broken only by the echoes of the howling elegy of the Twili and Interlopers who came before creeping over the land like rot and wither over flowers, the lament of the lost spirits of the people and animals of Hyrule falling over your spirit like a shroud, a shared hymm from two worlds reality had been twisted, only both of it’s princess, one filled the luster of empyreal sorrow in her mind and one with the scorch abyssal fury in her heart knowing to see the reflective tragedy befallen to their people. With Link as the one who restored the memory of what once was in both worlds as divinity and calamity sang in his bones and you a witness to the restoration of harmony to the discordant symphony, the two different songs of light and shadow refusing to let go of either of you in an eternal duet.

(Once touched by magic, it shall never leave the one if holds onto Twilight may have been the one with the Beast in his soul, with the howl of a wolf, the bite of shades in his veins and the lament of innocents taking precedence over anything purely because he learned how to silence the whispers of the one’s who made a grab for heaven’s throat and we’re pushed in the cracks of reality for their prideful vánitas even as he could taste it in the back of his tongue, twining around his ribs and overgrowing into his shattered mirror heart like vines, flowering with the divinity and eternal nature of the Hero’s Spirit, already having the hunt of the Fierce Deity in it’s veins and the remains of cursed divinity welcoming the new aspect merrily so he could bear it. The song of the innocent wrongly punished among the sinners rang into your mind, scratched at your skin and dug it’s claws around your throat, chocking you with sorrow and regret, more willing to leave gouges than to let go of someone’s who’s looked into the reverse side of the sacred realm and wept with grief for it’s people and the curse of it’s beauty.

It would never leave you, Link or Zelda, who learned who love the darkness the way Midna did, madness and unsightly delight and all.)

While the people of Hyrule merely became trapped as observers at best, if they were lucky, Midna’s raging grief and resentment quickly became obvious, once she revealed that rotten Zant had done to her and her people, twisted into a new form, distorted in body and trapped in mind like the animals and beasts of Hyrule, their pain driving them in becoming feral attack hounds for the usurper, their howling screams as much sorrow, wailing in an attempt to let their agonized, tortured souls to escape from it’s mouth, a futile attempt to flee from the strain of reality forgetting their true form in favor of Zant’s twisted design, of being used as sentient canvases for cruelty and ruthlessness, of their will being stepped over in favor of corrupting recreation.

Of how it only didn’t quaff down at Midna’s mind because of the nature of her ephemerality, fully beloved by the Realm of Darkness, of how she loathed him for it and wouldn’t wish her fate of that of her people’s on any living or dead soul, once she came to love the Realm of Light through Zelda’s sacrifice.

Which was why, when you saw three of the victims of the telltale twisting from darkness utilized with the intent to drive one insane, a familiar looking plate of stone engraved on the remains of ashes from their identity, the curling of distorted, solid darkness making crooked mishapen manes, bent out of shape from their too long torso and long, long arms adorned with twitching, deformed claws, you feel very justified in way your blood froze, holding onto Wild’s arms and yanking with all you had so his shot will miss, his yelp of surprise swallowed by the bone cracking, blood curdling screech from one of the beasts as a Skyward Strike grazed it’s petrified flesh.

You feel something warm drip down your ears, taste the promise of violence and the cry of lost souls on the back of your tongue and swallow it down as the memory of the Twilight Realm attempted to bite and crack your ribcage to quaff down your heart, to devour it bones and all, calling out in desperation, “Don’t! That’s a person!”

Sky freezes, as still as a statue, Legend curses the heavens crimson in a way you are so glad Wind isn’t around to hear as he retreats Twilight snarls, the wolf in him revolted and disgusted, you wonder if the Twilight is singing in his mind too as he restrains himself from reaching for the crystal as nails just a tad too sharp invite droplets of blood to one hand, grimm as a graveyard “We need to get them together anyway, felling just one won’t be enough.”

You grimace, releasing Wild, keeping your eye on the Shadow Beasts and another on your group, pointedly not mentioning the twitch in Four, amethyst clouding his gaze and the prism of his eyes turning gray with memories you and Twilight both knew all too well, of the grimace in Time’s otherwise stony countenance, you’d wished to avoid bloodshed of whoever was turned against their will, but you and Twilight both knew that might not be possible, death, unfortunately, might be the greatest mercy you can grant these poor souls.

(The Twilight is harmonizing in your ears, jeering, you feel the Interlopers insanity and the Twili’s lament on your teeth. As lovely as it could be cruel, the merry feeling upon meeting, the sorrow at a parting.

If you ever see the Shadow, you might just try indulging the echo by offering it’s blood as tribute. You'd make it hurt. The fact it learned the spell used to deform reality in such a way was cruel and vile.)

“Legend, how is your magic?” shoots Warriors, analyzing, calculating, it snaps the purple back into Four’s gaze, brings his mind back to focus as he reaches into his inventory for his Moon Pearl, Twilight is circling the beasts with single minded purpose, herding them together and prowling as he would as a wolf, Wild thankfully listened to your warning and had switched from the more destructive Flame and Lightning Arrows to ice ones. It doesn’t contain them for long but it gives a few precious seconds to strategize.

Legend catches on, switching to the Ice Rod on one hand and grasping his own Moon Pearl with the other, Sky has another Skyward Strike ready, but doesn’t release it, you switch from your sword to accepting a Magic Rod tossed at you from Wild, “Good enough.”

You breath in shakily, the symphony of the Twilight Realm has quieted, more lament than anthem as it’s Hero steps back, returning to your side, he nods grimly, “... Then, let’s end this quickly.”

You know your will boys will do their best to heal them, and failing that, you hope that they’ll hear the requiem of the Twili rather than the lament once they’re at peace, that they'll find some form of threnody.

It is a horrible thing, to be forced to die as a beast.

[anicyz]

Dumb little story bit born from a conversation with a friend. What if Wild was actually affected by his full 117 year age? He’s an old man, and he want’s you off his lawn. (full thing under the cut if you want the silly bits)

Wild was old.

That’s what he said at least.

No one really believed him. After all he looked and for the most part acted like a regular seventeen year old. 

Every now and then though he’d complain of old joints. Everyone had achy joints. It was part of being an adventurer. You could only sustain so much damage before some things just didn’t move like they were supposed to despite any magical healing. 

Legend said so once and Wild just shook his head.

His voice, far off, soft like falling dust, “It’s a different kind of pain.” 

He squinted more at night. Often taking out a flame blade for extra light before the sun had even finished setting. He got turned around easily, more likely to trip or run into something. Sky took to walking close by just in case he took a tumble. 

A few of them had joked about needing glasses but Four had seen Wild make a note in his journal to ask someone named Purah about getting a pair. 

Wild always had another person with him while he cooked to taste what he made. No matter that it was something he’d made a hundred times before he always grabbed the nearest hero to taste test.

Hyrule had seen Wild eat some odd things, and had joined him in eating some odd things. Only once had he seen Wild actually react to the taste of something. That something being goron spice.  Most of the time he spoke of the texture, how soft or chewy it was, whether it was hot or cold. 

Wild said he was old but most of the time they thought he was joking. His most recent actions did not portray someone who was joking.

“Why are they still there?” 

Twilight watched Wild snap the curtains of his front window shut, pace back and forth once or twice, and re-open them to resume glaring at his lawn.

“Who’s there?” Wind asked bravely

“Karson! Also Bolson… Why is Bolson here? Are they friends?” He trailed off into gravelly muttering, eyes almost catlike with how hard he was scrunching his eyebrows, hand fisting in the curtain for support, “Go back across the bridge with your stupid model houses! All those lawns …. you’re here on mine?”

Twilight approached with caution, easing the abused fabric from his friend’s grasp, “Clearly this is a touchy subject,” He glanced out the window himself to see two men, sitting next to Wild’s outdoor cooking pot, “Huh, why are they there?”

The hero in his grasp threw up his free hand, “If only I knew!” He tugged back towards the window but when Twilight refused to budge, faced the other again, “I just want them off my lawn.”

“I mean, they’re just sitting there…” Sky trailed off, leaning back as Wild spun towards him, somehow managing to slip from Twilight’s grasp. 

“That’s the problem! It’s my lawn they’re on!” He marched back to press his forehead against the glass and hiss, “Go away and let me have my home in peace!”

“Come on man, I’m sure they’ll leave eventually.” Twilight tried to placate.

“Yeah, they will. At night. Which means they have somewhere else to be. So why do they stay in front of my house all day?”

“Er… Wild?” 

The man didn’t remove his head from the window, all subtlety lost now, his gaze burning a hole in both men amiably chatting next to the fire.

Alarmed, the heroes turned to their resident broker of information on old people. Time shrugged a shoulder and stared back at them, unconcerned. “He’s got a point. Last time someone did that at the ranch I waited until Malon was gone and played the Song of Storms at them until they left. I know for a fact their shoes were still wet a week later, saw them at the market.”

“You didn’t.” 

Their leader raised an eyebrow at Twilight and took a sip from one of the water cup’s Wild had handed out to everyone before he’d gotten distracted.

“I’m gonna figure out where you go at night, Karson, and I’m going to make sure you stay there.”

“Alright you crotchety old man, how about we calm down a bit!”

[variousobsessions]

Okay going back through LU and a particular panel stood out to me.

Dont get me wrong, Im not saying this is definite evidence that we'll get some canon coverage of Hyrule's curse, but I do think it's neat that Jojo included Hyrule's reaction to the possibility of some of his own monsters showing up through a portal. There's also a possibility that Hyrule just happened to be the one to react.

[arsenicflame]

shout out to this is how you lose the time war for being the only piece of media to never let me down <3