#keep your eye on the sky

[northernpintail]

Turkey Vultures are back!

[bonefall]

Feel free to ignore you've probably got a lot going on right now, but considering you know a lot about DOTC and Clear sky, I had a question...

We know that he's a terrible, misogynistic, woman beating and war mongering lunatic who was excused of all his actions because his equally misogynistic brother said " But-But he's nice! Deep down! This isn't the real him! "

But! In a world where the Hunters could write such a character, what do you think Clear Sky would look like as an actual sympathetic villain?

Idk if that makes sense, but what I've thought of doing is taking purely cannon Clear Sky and attempting to change him enough that he's still an antagonist, but not too far where only Reddit defends him.

I don't think he works as a sympathetic villain, on any level, ever. I think you're making a huge mistake to even try, and I have never seen an AU where it was done well nor am I interested in entertaining the thought.

Characters. Are. Tools. They exist to tell a story. The story that people tell me, by obsessing over some alternate universe where he was "ACTUALLY sympathetic and had a REAL redemption arc," is that they're not fucking interested in his dozens of victims. Nor do they actually care about the abusive impact he had on the minds and feelings of his family. They're JUST interested in Clear Sky himself.

Just like the Erins. Everything that happens in DOTC revolves around him. Everything. All his wives die so he can be sad about it. His brother defends all of his actions and BEGS you to sympathize with his pain so he can be 'redeemable.' One Eye comes out of nowhere so that there can be an example of "real" evil to contrast Clear Sky so he's less bad in hindsight.

The first three books of DOTC are bad, but the last three are fucking insufferable because SUDDENLY all that Gray Wing apologia pays off, and they take their main villain and throw him out a window. You CAN'T have "redeemable" Clear Sky and the plot of DOTC without dragging in someone else to drive the conflict, to BE the bigger threat to "unite" against. Slash and One Eye have to be conjured up out of thin air so Clear Sky can WHINE about how people only suck his toes instead of deepthroat them after he killed all their friends.

And yet, in spite of this absolute failure of an attempt, we continue to see this bullshit "redemption" be a mistake because Clear Sky is a fantastic villain, with major antagonist roles in nearly EVERY bit of follow-up material for DOTC that came after.

He's the most consistent monster in all of Warriors.

He's a fragile, egotistical, self-absorbed megalomaniac who ALWAYS sees himself as the victim, REFUSING to self-reflect and blaming everything else for all of his terrible choices. He will USE your love of him against you like it's a chain through your nose, step out of line and he will yank you into place with guilt trips, manipulation, public shaming, and violence.

He's a child abuser. He's a tyrant. He abandons the sick and disabled as soon as they're of no use to him, with grand speeches about "illness" and "weakness." He's a murderer who stands above the shredded corpse of his victim and bellows, "I'M NOT GREEDY! I'M JUST STRONG!"

And you'd write a "good" redemption arc for this, why?

Why are people so chronically unable to accept that there are LOTS of people like him, and you can't save your abuser? Why don't you ask yourselves why you're not interested in exploring Thunder, or Petal, or Gray Wing, and how his toxic influence impacts them? Why does the sympathy fall on Clear Sky? What about the DOZENS of victims who are dead by Book 3, and how THEY could have been saved?

Why ruin a perfectly good villain?

What's behind this trend where a billion people say to me, "Yes Clear Sky is a walking cavalcade of fucked up abuse apologia, and an incredibly realistic depiction of an abuser, but how would you change this while keeping it all the same?"

I wouldn't. You can't. It wouldn't be the same story, or it wouldn't be the same character. Never seen it done well, and I have seen it a lot. So I don't entertain this deeply frustrating "Well What If Clear Sky But Nice" impulse.

[undertheopensky]

Memento

Whumptober Day 22: Glass Shard

Characters: Four, Sky, everyone else is there

Trigger warnings: Self-harm, it’s unintentional but it’s there, minor nudity, panic attacks, a special kind of unreliable narrator, many bad decisions are made

Read on Ao3!

-----

The portal looks like any other. It’s only as he steps through that Four registers something – off – as his awareness stretches and spirals and f r a y s

They’re scattered in the void between stars, drowning and endless, flecks of insignificance against a being so much greater that the scale of it is lost to them.

OUTSIDE EQUIPMENT IS FORBIDDEN.

Their body doesn’t exist right now. It’s so easy for the entity to strip them down to their essentials, their skin and their blood and their bones, leaving everything else behind in the void. Peeling away everything that isn’t them, their sword, their tunics, the cord at their throat –

No!

In this moment-between-moments they’re barely a spark of thoughts, a soul in potentia, and every fibre of their being curls tight and defensive against the gentle tug. Over their heart, they wrap threads of lightning and fire around a faint and faded glimmer. They resist.

The entity tugs again.

No no no don’t take it please don’t take it I can’t lose it I can’t lose him I can’t –

The entity… pauses.

They cling tighter. I won’t let you take it.

ALL OUTSIDE EQUIPMENT IS FORBIDDEN.

They keen in soundless protest. Mine-his-only-thing-left-grief-and-horror-and-mourning–

…ALL OUTSIDE EQUIPMENT IS FORBIDDEN. BUT A TRINKET THAT GRANTS NO ADVANTAGE… THAT, I CAN ALLOW.

And they’re flooded with relief a split second before they’re flooded with sound and light and ow.

Everything always tingles for a few seconds, after teleportation. All his pieces realising they’re still alive, registering protests about the sand beneath him, the chill of the air, the ache in his tightly-clenched hand –

“What the fuck –”

“Who took my rings –”

“WHERE IN DIN’S NAME ARE MY PANTS?!”

Everyone else is discovering they’ve been stripped of their equipment and are reacting accordingly. Four sits up slowly, flexes his throbbing fingers just enough to check –

A thin cord tugs at his neck; razor edges bite into his palm. The necklace is safe. He didn’t lose it. It’s safe.

He shudders out a sigh, hot and cold playing over his bare skin. After the panic attack, all of them slammed together in united desperation, everything feels kind of muffled. There, but unimportant. Even everyone’s noisy agitation isn’t worth responding to – no one is missing, no one is hurt, they’re just upset. They don’t need him for that.

“Four – shit, Four, you’re bleeding–!”

He realises what they’re reaching for almost too late. “No!” he yelps. “No don’t touch it it’s mine don’t take it no no no–” The sand is cool and slippery under their feet as they scrabble back. There’s a wall, there’s a corner, there’s nowhere to run so they huddle instead, curled protectively around the hand holding his necklace and keening high and panicked.

“Don’t take it,” he gasps, “please don’t.”

“It’s okay,” someone soothes, “it’s okay. I won’t take it. I’m just worried about your hand. It’s bleeding; are you hurt? I’m not going to take anything from you. I just want to see your hand. Do you think you can do that?”

Panting, Four peeks out of his defensive ball. Sky is there, not too close, crouched far enough away to give him some space. His tentative smile widens when he sees Four looking back at him.

“I promise I won’t take it,” he repeats. “Can you take a deep breath for me? Please?”

Aware he’s being handled and annoyed by it, Four obeys only out of spite. Breathing the full depth of his lungs hurts. It takes a few gasping starts to get all the way down, and by then the green-grey panic has faded from the edges of his vision.

“I hate that this shit works,” he says in a sapphire-tinted growl.

Sky is infuriatingly patient. “If it didn’t work, we wouldn’t ask you to do it. Do you think I’d be able to take a look at your hand now? Please?”

As the adrenaline fades it is starting to hurt. And… it’s Sky. He… they trust Sky.

Mostly, indigo murmurs.

Slowly he uncurls his fingers, wincing crimson as the pain flares. Blood runs down his bare arm. It’s still a struggle to let go enough to switch the blood-streaked pendant to his other hand. His heart drops into freefall for the instant it takes his fingers to close, only steadies when the edges bite just enough to register. Only then does he let Sky take him by the wrist.

Welling up from the ragged cuts, blood drips to the sand; Sky frowns in concern. “Some of these look deep… does anyone have a potion? Bandages, even? I seem to have misplaced my kit…”

“No,” says Wild, grimacing. “It’s… I’ve only ever seen one of these before, but the shrine keeper takes everything as you come in. Weapons, equipment, armour.”

“Fucking clothes,” Legend mutters.

“You don’t even wear pants to start with, Legend,” says Twilight.

“That doesn’t mean I want to go naked!”

“Magic’s probably still on the table, if you have the strength for it.” Wild shoots Hyrule a hopeful look.

Without meaning to Four tenses when Hyrule gets close.

“I’m not going to take it from you,” Hyrule says, repeating Sky’s words from earlier.

Four flushes with dull embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry for scaring you.” Moving more slowly, Hyrule carefully lays his fingertips on Four’s bleeding hand. They start to glow, a gentle spring green, and Four watches the self-inflicted cuts fade away, leaving smears of blood behind.

“Thanks,” he says. Then, to avoid the inevitable questions, he forces himself to stand, looks straight at Wild, and ploughs onwards: “So, how do we get out of here?”

“Well, assuming this is some kind of shrine, it could vary. Sometimes they’re… moving puzzles. Like, you have to move a ball down a path, but there are lasers in the way that will knock you into a pit if you don’t block them somehow. Or you have to reach a high area but there’s no ladder, but there are things that you can pile up into like a really lopsided set of stairs. Other times they’re combat trials – you have to defeat a certain monster, or a group of monsters, to make the final door open.”

Wind makes a noise of understanding. “Oh, so it’s just a dungeon then. Cool.”

Wild frowns. “I… dunno? You guys always made dungeons sound, like, super drawn out. These are like. Two, maybe three tasks, and you’re done. The steals-all-your-shit shrine was the worst for that alone but it was also a combined combat-puzzle thing. I guess you didn’t have to fight the monsters to get the balls, but it was a lot easier carrying them around if you didn’t also have to dodge arrow fire.”

“And you did this without armour or a sword?” says Warriors, somewhere between aghast and impressed.

“I broke a lot of sticks,” Wild agrees. “I would have given so much for even the crappiest sword, but I’ve never been able to get anything past the shrine keeper.”

“Thought you said you’d only seen one of these?” Legend runs his fingers over his knuckles again. It’s an unconscious motion, missing his rings.

“Well I ran the first time, didn’t I?” says Wild reasonably. “Panicked and ran for it. When I got far enough away the monk gave me all my shit back. I tried a couple times to sneak stuff in, throw it from the raft or whatever, but no dice. How’d you do it, Four?”

Four’s hand tightens. Hot blood starts to seep into the spaces between his fingers, something sharp like panic coiling around his heart.

“Steady, Four,” says Sky. “Deep breaths. Shit, you’re bleeding again – Wild!”

“I’m sorry! I was just curious!”

Four wants this over with. Why can’t they just leave them alone, fuck, they’re always asking and poking and so goddamn nosy, they never let things go, he can see their burning curiosity and knows what they want, he can feel it pressing in on his heart –

If he doesn’t think about it too hard, the words can stumble out. “I felt it – and – I fought it.”

Legend frowns. “You fought it for your necklace? Why not your sword – hell, your shirt?”

“How did you even feel it?” Wind demands. “One second we were walking into a portal and the next we’re stripped to our skivvies! There was no time!”

“Time’s more flexible than you think,” they say absently. Their fingers shift, making glass cut twilight-sharp, and their heart steadies.

“When the portal – when we entered the shrine – there was a moment where – Wild called it the shrine keeper – I – felt it. Taking everything away. Bag. Sword. Clothing. But –” his hand twitches again. Sky hisses as more blood hits the sand. “I couldn’t let them take this. It’s the only thing I have of my best friend.”

The words fall from his lips in blood red and bruise purple and he meant to say them but he didn’t and he regrets them but he doesn’t. The pendant is important, they can’t lose it, they need the others to understand that –

Their mind turns inward. What if they hadn’t – convinced them? What if the shrine keeper had taken the fragile shard of glass –

Give it back! It’s like an echo of a memory, too-sharp and too-clear. Please give it back, please!

Their fingers tighten. Pain swells, drowns out the almost-memories, and stays a constant drumming throb even when they relax.

Unease runs viridian.

“–our, I need you to take a breath for me, can you do that? C’mon, head up, you can do it –”

Calm and steady, Sky’s voice draws them from the almost-flashback. It’s harder this time – they hurt, and they’re tired, and the grief isn’t lurking so much as clawing up their spine. The world presses in on them. They hurt, Green-Red-Blue-Vio all caught up in we-miss-him-we-miss-him-we-miss-him. It makes everything harder, when all they want to do is fall deep and curl up in mirror-shard memories that hurt the same way they do. (The pain is comforting.) (They know it shouldn’t be.)

When they’re like this, when they can’t find the balance that lets them be Four instead of four, when they don’t even want to – someone has to take the reins. Someone who’s capable of at least pretending to be a person, for a while – and this time, that’s Red. Red, who feels things so intensely he circles right back around to ‘functional’. Who manages to take a full breath of air even through the tears, making Sky smile encouragement.

“Good! Good job, just keep it up, you’re alright.”

Red wants the smile, wants the comfort just as much as he hates it. It’s wrong. Too big, the wrong shape, smells of feathers and sunlight instead of smoke and steel. Another stuttering breath rips through his chest. He misses them so much – misses them all, even when they’re right there with him because it’s not the same. And there’s nothing he can do about it except breathe, and cry, and wait for the storm to pass.

Hyrule inches closer. “Four, you’re bleeding again. Can I see your hand?”

Red breathes through the avalanche of fear and hurt and no. Checks – the bleeding isn’t bad – before shaking his head. “S’fine.”

“I don’t want to leave you in pain. Please?”

“No.” It comes out harsher than he intends.

“Okay, not right now. Can you let me know when you’re ready?”

Red hums agreement. Presses the hand against his sternum, feels the way it makes glass shift in his fingers.

“Just make sure you get it treated, little one,” Time says from nearby, deep and slow. “That’s your sword hand.” He’s – closer than Red had realised. They all are, actually.

“You gotta look after yourself!” Wild adds.

That is possibly the most hypocritical thing he’s ever heard Wild say, and for a moment he just stares. Then he gets distracted by Wind, bouncing and clearly relieved Four is looking more stable.

“It’s okay, Four! Wild says these don’t take long, so we’ll be out of here and back to normal in no time!” His eyes catch on Four’s hand – still clenched tight, still bleeding – and flicker uncertainly. Then he squeaks and flails in protest as Warriors scrubs a hand through his hair.

“Sailor’s right, it’ll be okay. Maybe talk to your friend next time you’re home? See about getting a spare – or somewhere safer to keep it?”

Twilight makes a noise of agreement. “Your friend must be real important to ya,” he says, “but you haven’t mentioned ‘em before. Can you tell us about them?”

Embers spark.

“He killed himself,” Four says boldly, “to save my life.”

There’s a brief, horrified silence.

Then everyone bursts out talking at once, Twilight’s frantic apologies mixing with Wind telling him off, Hyrule pleading to let him help, Warriors protesting something that gets lost in the commotion. They’re guilty, apologetic, desperately trying to help.

Red doesn’t care.

“I can’t just – get a new one, because it was his, and now he’s gone. He saved me – he saved all of fucking Hyrule – and people call me a hero when I couldn’t – I couldn’t even save him.” Under a layer of numb his skin is burning, with hurt, with anger, with the grief he holds close. He still feels so cold. It isn’t fair.

Time interrupts before he can dig his heels too deep. “How old were you?” His voice is gentle, almost distant.

“We were – we were both thirteen.” His voice cracks and he has to use his free hand to dash away angry tears. This is why he doesn’t talk about it, dammit.

Sky hugs him.

It’s more awkward than usual, without all their layers in the way – why does skin have to be so warm, and slightly sticky, ugh – but Sky is determined, and Four – doesn’t have it in him to protest, right now. Leaning into Sky’s chest, he lets himself relax – lets his fingers loosen, just a little, on the shard of mirror-glass.

They just want this to be over.

-----

When Four doesn’t fight him, just lets himself be held, Sky fixes the rest of the group with a sharp eye. “Wild, how fast can you get us through this?”

Wild’s back goes straight. “Depends on the tasks, usually doesn’t take more than an hour or two.”

“How do we get out afterwards?”

Wild glances around, grimacing. “Well, usually there’s a – a platform that carries you up and down, but I don’t see one here – this looks really different to what I’m used to, but it – it feels the same, I guess?”

Sky stays focused on problem solving. “Any other ways out?”

“The shrine keeper. When you approach them, the shrine keeper teleports you out.”

“Can we bypass the dungeon and go straight for the exit that way?”

“No, they – they’re always blocked off, you have to – the shrine wants you to do something, and you have to figure it out and – and actually do it, before the path opens – sometimes the problem is the path –”

“Okay, so it is like a dungeon,” says Legend. He’s tense, keeps flicking quick looks at Four and the way he’s standing unprotestingly in Sky’s hold. “How fast d’you think we can get through with multiple people helping?”

“Only one way to find out!” says Sky with false cheer.

Quickly they get themselves organised. There’s no equipment to outfit themselves with, no armour to check; all they can do is split into smaller groups to hopefully cover all corners as fast as possible. Legend makes a point of putting Warriors in the only group of three. Warriors complains, but’s mostly a front. He’s never experienced a dungeon before and is rightly wary, so putting him with two other people who have only makes sense.

Sky they leave to babysit Four, whose empty expression and slow reflexes are not convincing anyone that he’s capable of a dungeon run. Some traps have genuinely murderous timing. He’s also still refusing to let go of his necklace, which cuts him deep enough to bleed every time something makes him startle.

Once they’re gone, and the sandy hallway has gone still, Sky gently rocks on his feet, moving Four with him. “Hey, Four? You with me at all?”

Four gives a displeased grunt.

“Yeah, I know.” Sky’s heart hurts. “C’mon, let’s sit down again. The others will come get us later.”

Four goes with him when he tugs, crouching and then tumbling into a clumsy sit. His knees draw close to his face, seemingly without thought, going back to the defensive huddle with his bloodied hand at the centre. Stormy grey is alert, if sullen. Mostly Four just looks tired.

Sky sits beside him, not wanting to overwhelm him further. “It’s okay. They’re a lot sometimes, but they mean well.”

Four’s response is too muffled to translate.

“Sorry, Four, I didn’t catch that.”

“I’m tired of them asking!” he bursts out. “I’m tired of them asking about – about friends, and family, and do you have someone special waiting for you at home, and – it hurts, and I’m tired of it, and they won’t stop!”

And of course that was the danger in Red fronting when they were this emotional – what came out was what they felt, no deflecting or sugar coating, no way to hide after.

“I’m sorry,” Sky says. “I didn’t realise it was bothering you so much. I can talk to the others about it and make sure everyone stops.”

If they haven’t sworn off it already. Blue, sardonic, even through the grey haze cloaking their mind.

I feel bad, Green murmurs, they were just trying to help.

After such an outburst? Doubtless they feel worse than you do, says Vio.

“They should feel guilty,” Red mutters, and it’s shot through with indigo venom. “Maybe now they’ll shut up.”

Sky tightens the arm across his shoulders. “It’ll be okay.”

He feels helpless. Four isn’t usually – vindictive, like this. Nor prone to outbursts and fits of temper. Being stripped mostly naked would knock anyone off-balance, to say nothing of the desperate way Four is protecting his necklace, but – Sky just doesn’t know what to do. Four’s a lot more functional than he would be, after three panic attacks back-to-back, but how much of that is just a mask? How much is he really struggling to hold it together?

(Would Sky even be able to tell, when Four’s been hiding this for so long?)

He runs a hand through his hair, absent-minded, and catches on the lack of catching at his ears. “Aw, man. It even took my earrings. Wild did say it would give them back after, right?”

“…yeah.”

His sigh of relief is only slightly exaggerated. “That’s good. Those weren’t easy to get, you know.”

Four’s tired blink isn’t the most rousing expression of interest, but Sky launches into the story anyway. He has to let go of Four to make the gestures his hands want to, and – it’s fine. Four doesn’t collapse in on himself at the loss of contact. All he does is turn his head to watch Sky talk, eyes still a little too sharp.

Sky hopes the distraction helps. Involving Four hadn’t worked, but something completely outside of himself, something new to hold onto? Maybe it will help him calm down from the edge of panic he’s been riding since they first stumbled out of the portal.

It’s as he’s describing Scrapper and the Mogmas that Wind’s shout draws them both to look up. “Hey, guys! Legend cracked it!” He waves enthusiastically, like maybe they hadn’t yet noticed him standing in his skivvies at the end of the hall. “There’s a big statue but Wild doesn’t wanna mess with it ‘til everyone’s there! C’mon!”

Four refuses Sky’s hand to get up, though he’s a little shaky on his feet. Sky tries not to hover. He knows how annoying it is, having people looming close just waiting for you to fail, and at the same time, he doesn’t want Four to hurt himself if he stumbles and falls.

Wild was right: this isn’t nearly as long and complex as a dungeon. According to Wind, who chatters on as they make their way up the spiralling collection of ramps, they’d had to do a fair bit of work pulling things apart to make it traversable for anyone who wasn’t Wild. “It took him and Twilight and Legend with his power bracelets to move that block,” he waves at the massive piece of stone they’re walking over to the next bridge-like panel. “And then Wild used his slate for these metal pieces, except he kept dropping them, and his aim is shit, so Wars nearly fell in that pool getting out of the way.”

Sky snorts at the mental image.

When they make it to the top, they find the others loosely gathered around some kind of blocky statue. It looks like a cross between an owl, a fox, and a rabbit. What even needs ears that long?

Wild flashes them a strained grin over his shoulder. “So! Usually I find a ten-thousand-year-old Sheikah monk at the end of these things, but it’s got kinda the same feel to it, so we’re gonna try anyway. Just in case, everyone grab hold of me.”

That isn’t easy. Eight different people have to crowd around Wild’s back and sides to make sure everyone has a hand on him. Sky spots Four’s hand in the crush, still streaked with drying blood, and his stomach rolls.

“Okay, everyone ready? Here goes nothing.” Wild reaches out towards the statue.

For a long moment, nothing happens.

Then the world twists like a Time Gate, several things happening at once. A panel goes red – lights up green – a glimmering box of blue light shatters, flinging threads of glass before they freeze in midair – an angry buzzing noise – chiming fairy bells –

The statue smiles.

WELL DONE.

And as suddenly as it started, it all stops.

Sky fumbles a bit at the added weight, his sailcloth dragging at his shoulders and his earrings suddenly heavy in his ears. Time’s armour makes a crashing noise like it had been dropped from a height; Time grunts.

They’re outside, grass under their feet and a weird teardrop-shaped stone building behind them. Sky doesn’t know where they are – it’s all hills and fields and low-hanging trees – but there’s no monsters in eyeshot so he uses the opportunity to double check all his belongings were returned. Earrings, sailcloth, clothes – check. Bag – check, and it looks like the contents are intact. Master Sword and scabbard, fucking goddessdamned check. He did not appreciate losing her, even for a couple of hours.

Around him the others are doing much the same, adjusting clothes and checking packs. Legend’s running his fingers over his rings like he’s counting them, while Warriors struggles to get his mail to sit right over his bad shoulder.

And Four –

All Sky catches a glimpse of is black and glossy and strangely clean of blood before Four is shoving the pendant down the neck of his tunic, out of sight.

The difference is immense. All the tension drops out of his shoulders, he stops standing hunched in on himself, even his face relaxes from its hard, suspicious lines. There’s still creases around his too-red eyes – he’s still feeling the effects of the panic and stress of the day – but he looks more himself.

He even smiles at Wind’s little dance of happiness at getting his pants back. “Aren’t you the first one to strip every time we find a lake?”

Brightening at the sound of his voice, Wind spins to face him and beams. “Yeah, but that’s different! Lakes are fun! This was just annoying.”

“You shoulda heard him whine when we asked him to scale that rope,” says Legend.

Wind makes an outraged noise. “You try climbing coarse hemp with no pants! I ain’t a fan of splinters in me privates!”

The laughter and bickering is slightly strained. Even as Hyrule creeps up and is finally, finally allowed to heal his torn-up hand and wipe away the blood, everyone’s giving Four his space. Not pushing, not demanding things of him, just letting him exist with them.

Good. Sky will still catch them up individually, make sure everyone knows Four’s had enough of personal questions, but for now at least, everything is okay.

Wild finishes what he was doing – taking photographs of the weird building? – and waves his Slate at everyone. “Definitely my Hyrule! If we head north, we should make it to Castle Town by nightfall.”

“Isn’t your Castle Town still mostly construction site?” Legend says, and Wild shrugs.

“If you wanna spend two days walking to Kakariko, be my guest, but there’s at least a temporary stable and inn at Castle Town.”

“I vote beds,” says Wind immediately.

Sky agrees – from the look of the sun, they’re mid-afternoon, so being just a couple of hours away from safety is very appealing. It only takes a little debate for Legend to give in, since he doesn’t want to sleep on the ground if he doesn’t have to, either. As they set off through the grass, Sky scans the group one last time.

Twilight’s up the front with Wild, Hyrule looking on in fascination as Wild waves at a herd of horses and threatens to catch one. Warriors is close enough to intervene if necessary, while Legend is deliberately ignoring them in favour of studying the landscape – in the opposite direction of Wild’s horses. Wind has dragged Time into a conversation about his armour, with Four – steady and reserved once more – chiming in here and there about plate maintenance.

Sky takes a deep breath, and lets the tension run out of him as he exhales.

For now, everything’s okay.

[hazele-omega]

@travellers-log-lawrence GET PENITS BLASTED

Archer Psychedelic Lighting Lawrence

Slightly different style for this one, I used more of the airbrush tool than usual for the background/to pull everything together. The shading was a little brain hurting at points but it was worth it (I hope)

[opens-up-4-nobody]

The way that the sun hits leaves and clouds. I feel like I could watch the colors change forever. If I could slow down for that long.

[m1d-45]

here's a sagau concept— reader plays a song that features some deep, terrible, tender yearning, like perhaps your best american girl or strawberry blond. i just want to see... characters who hear how reader hurts, how they ache. class of 2013, first love / late spring, i want you. can you tell that i'm a mitski fan?

if you mean this as in reader is yearning over something in your world, they’re worried. how could you want for something so badly without getting it? if it’s a person, then how could they deny you? they don’t know where you are exactly, but surely they’re aware of your status, right? you’re being treated with all the delicacy you deserve? so why do you still long for something? why do you not have whatever or whoever it is you desire? don’t cry, please, let them comfort you for a while.. here, if you get better artifacts, will you feel better? if they make their specialties more often when you cook, if they crit more and say your favorite lines, will you stop crying? they know they can’t directly help, but stay online a little more, spend time with them. at the very least, they can be a distraction, right?

[cuteniaarts]

More art of @silima’s OCs, this time featuring Kali, aka the love of my life, + a small infodump of almost everything I know about her. Can’t believe it took me this long to get around to drawing her, considering she’s been living in my head rent free for like a year lol

Bonus version without all my incessant rambles in case you don’t want to look at my shabby handwriting:

[trollbreak]

Junie and fishys old friends do u kno

[xcziel]

^^^ credit to this 💙gorgeous💙 pic from @moonlovingvampire for driving me back to the palettes because i love everything about it (including the moon lamp *eyes it enviously*)

under the cut, the original suggested colors -

i know it looks for "accent" shades but COME ON

all those soft subtle organic hues and it grabs ... black, and the yellow of the one light in the background? for sure they are contrasts i guess

when i see a glowing moon at twilight it definitely evokes images of ... bees??? warning signs? crime scene tape? lol

[chaosordoffl]

"you're falling for propaganda and propping up a terrorist group in doing so" well maybe if the other guys' pr wasn't ass :/

[galeforged]

{ ooc } As the person who sent the ask to begin with... hoooooly shit I am sorry for sparking this, I did not anticipate a response like that-

[loveydoveysuggests]

watching the sunset, daydreaming about when we'll watch the sunset together after we get married

[loverboybrightsideghost]

.

[verdant-avidya]

"Now what kind of crimes are we getting up to tonight."

[rxttenfish]

miranda (due to life circumstance) has very little body fat BUT she does still have a shitton of muscle on her neck (because thats like. necessary. to her continued existence as a merfolk.) and that muscle is soft and floppy when its not actively being used (common, because she’s on land and thats an entirely different type of strain on her body)

so aaravi has absolutely jiggled her wife’s neck, much to miri’s embarrassment

[capfalcon]

listen to dermot kennedy music.....go slightly insane.....listen to dermot kennedy music.......