#lu witch wild

[eponatheestallion]

okay ik its been literally two months since i updated his fic but sshhshshshshshshshs have witch!wild redesign and dont pay attention to that other part too much k

[wanderlustmagician]

Summary:

In which, Wild forgets… but his brothers remember.

For @hotcheetohatredwastaken

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHEEPS <3

I hope the day is filled with lots of fun and lemon Bundt cake. I’ll eat one in your honor today. 🫡

[merriclo]

I want to know your LU headcanons!

ohHO i will absolutely tell you tysm for asking!! i’ve been wanting to talk abt them for ages but just never got around to it ig ahjdkcka

Time’s actually like 32 and is just really committed to the bit of being ancient

Sky is horrific at making new friends. he grew up with the same small group of people, so he never learned how to make friends with complete strangers because there simply wasn’t the need to. so, when he first starts traveling with the chain, he makes little wooden charms for them because he isn’t entirely sure how else to get close with them. Zelda always enjoyed his woodcarvings, so maybe they will too??

as a result, the entire chain has little trinkets made by Sky. on Legend’s bag there’s charms hanging off the straps, and Twilight wears his as necklaces (both because it looks cool as fuck and it helps the shadow crystal stand out less). yes Wind has specifically commissioned him to make something for Aryll

yeah yeah bunny Legend but consider: the mermaid suit (which I like to think is more of a curse bc get fished pink man <3) giving him some marine animal qualities as well. no matter what tho that bitch is an Ariel kinnie, they’re collecting all the shiny shit they can find

Sky is obsessed with doing puzzles the Right and Proper way, meanwhile Wild cheeses absolutely everything he can

Wind believes in all of those classic pirate superstitions

the witches in Legend’s era adore him. Grandma Syrup dotes on him, Maple is like a teasing older sister, and Irene is like a teasing younger sister. this is where he learned most of his magic skills from, and he takes all potentially enchanted or cursed items to them to check out. he’ll never admit it, but Legend finds lots of comfort in all of them, as they’re one of the few people who’ve stayed in his life this long.

Wild’s a pretty good medic!! during his adventure, he very quickly realized how dangerous infection is, so they learned about a lot of home remedies and medicinal herbs, as well as how to tend to a wound from other travelers at stables and inns. he didn’t really get a choice in learning, considering how he probably got stung or bit by painful insects or accidentally brushed up against painful plants a lot during the early days of their adventure, and thus showed up to stables covered in rashes and hives and such, causing every decent person in the area to flock to them and try to help. their Hyrule is very sweet, okay?

they’re not the only one who’s well acquainted with medicinal herbs, though! while I think all of them would have a basic understanding, Time, Hyrule, Warriors, and Wind would know a lot. dw i’m elaborating

Time quite literally grew up in the forest, was raised by a tree, and had actual forest spirits for siblings—he knows his plants. he and Saria would peel willow bark and collect dandelions together

I like to think that Hyrule being half-fae makes him very sensitive to all magic-based auras, including that of plants, so they’re very good at picking out the healing herbs, even if they’re not quite sure what they’re called

listen ok hear me out about Warriors. young Time was appalled that he knew jackshit about nature and forcefully taught him. also, before modern medicine, medicinal plants were used all the fucking time on the battle field. yarrow, an herb that stops bleeding and prevents infection, is called soldiers’ woundwort because of this. i mention this because he was probably concerned about the health and safety of his troops, so he learned what the medics were doing and using.

Wind grew up on a small, tight-knit island, realistically they would’ve had to have learned how to use the things around them to their fullest advantage. that being said, his knowledge is sort of useless outside of his own era, aside from what he was taught in the war. ok i’m done talking about medicinal herbs now i promise sorry it’s a hobby of mine ahhsjdka

Legend’s terrified of dogs. in Link’s Awakening, the dogs are literally balls on chains with huge mouths full of sharp teeth (basically just Chain Chomps). if you want to get angsty with it: it comes from guard dogs being sent after him on his first adventure. he became a lot less scared to more he spent time with BowBow (the ball and chain dog) but, when he woke up, he got the belief that he could only be safe around a dog in his dreams. he’s pretty damn uncomfortable around Wolfie at first, but after lots of time and learning to trust Twilight, he’s able to slowly overcome his fear. sort of. mostly just with Wolfie. he still hates staying at stables in Wild’s Hyrule.

if Wild doesn’t want to explain/source something he’ll just say it came to him via divine intervention. Sky believes it every single time

I was thinking about Legend’s story a while ago and realized it was kind of similar to Joan of Arc’s so take that as you will. idk if this even counts as a headcanon but i’m putting it here

Warriors and Twilight are really close friends because they both understand the struggles of wrangling dirt worshipping nature freaks. anytime Twilight (lovingly) complains about Wild, Wars will counter with whatever asinine feral child antics young Time got up to and suddenly Twi will feel very blessed and lucky

whenever Four sees someone with their hair in a high ponytail he subconsciously thinks they’re very smart and respectable because Dot always wears her hair in a high ponytail

Hyrule is completely fine with not sleeping on a bedroll. they like the dirt, actually. let them sleep in the dirt.

Legend uses apples in his red potions, both to increase their potency and to make them taste better. he also learned how to enchant apples to be healing on their own so sometimes when someone’s hurt he’ll just shove an apple in their face

uhh so ik this is a lot but this isn’t even close to of all my headcanons so yeah there’s that lmao

[that-ari-blogger]

The Coven System

There is something fascinating about the Coven System as a story mechanic. Specifically, this post will talk about how they are introduced in Covention. There's some nuance here.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD

First up, let's establish some themes. The owl house is about freedom of expression. This should be pretty obvious. This episode goes out of its way to explicitly state this pretty early on, so you have that in the back of your mind.

"I get it Eda. Covens bad, individualism good. But I'm still figuring this world out. So, I'm going to go in there and make up my own mind."

There's a pervading attitude in specifically media analysis of "I'm going to throw a collection of big words at you to show how I am right" and the people that say this could be right, but they don't dwell on why. Knowing what something is called doesn't really do anything in something like this and reducing things to "Good" and "Bad" without explaining what that means is unhelpful.

To be clear, I'm not disagreeing with Eda here, the coven system is bad. And I'm not against big words (Half of my personality is an obnoxiously obscure vocabulary). But good and bad have no inherent, quantifiable definition. You have to define the parameters you are using. That's what this episode as a whole does. It explains, and it demonstrates.

Enough waffle. What are the covens?

Put simply, they are boxes to exist in. You align yourself with one idea and have to embody that idea for the rest of your life. It's restrictive, but that's not the selling point. The selling point is:

"Acceptance? Comradery? A sense of belonging? Covens sound incredible." "Watch closely, Luz."

The coven system works on social rules. You want acceptance? You need to conform. And even the existence of the Tiniest Cat Coven backs this up. The Boiling isles don't care how you conform, they just care that you can be easily defined. Hence why they add labels to everything, including those outside of the covens. Eda is a "wild witch". Lus is "the human".

The sigil system is a pretty decent metaphor for this, in order to be accepted, you have to lose some of your magic, some of what makes you you.

But there is one exception to this rule. The Emperor's coven. The best of the best can keep all of their magic. If you are good enough, you can keep some of your identity. But in exchange, you must wear a mask, disguise your face. It's conditional acceptance, and it's not acceptance of you, its acceptance of your abilities. Even Lilith is introduced wearing a mask.

Now, one thing that struck me during this episode was how it makes a concerted effort to show how similar the Emperor's coven and the wild witches are. That way their differences are shown more dramatically. These begin superficial. Both can cast all kinds of magic, both have a Clawthorn as their leader, both back a child in what could probably be a life-or-death event. But then the similarities become more underlying. Both are impulsive and cheat their way to victory.

I said impulsive there, and I meant it. But you might be confused. Lilith doesn't strike most people as impulsive. But that is an act, a mask, you might say. She makes a concerted effort to be the holier than thou character, but it literally only takes a handful of rhymes to get her to act how Eda wants her to act. And remember the beginning of the episode? How does Luz convince Eda to let her go to the covention? With flowery language. There are some parallels here that are starting to get obnoxious.

So, what point am I getting at here? What are the differences between the wild witches and the Emperor's coven? The coven would lead you to believe that they are the only place where you can be accepted. But the wild witches provide that for each other, and they don't have to earn it. The answer, when you look closer, is freedom. In the Emperor's Coven, you are not free to be yourself, you give up your individuality, and your autonomy, which in my opinion, are not the kinds of things you want to relinquish.

Ok, I need to talk about this scene, because it's really cool. The key word here is acceptance. The reason Luz starts to break down Amity's walls is because she is kind. She doesn't call Amity to change her ways in some big monologue, she is just nice to her, and accepting. And that acceptance comes from a place Amity wasn't expecting it to. Amity has been raised to think that acceptance came from skill, that if you were good enough, people would be kind to you. That's why she's so hell bent on joining the Emperor's Coven. And yet here is Luz, after Amity had cheated, showing her dignity and respect.

Luz doesn't begin antagonistic towards the Covens, but the rivalry begins here. Luz is the opposite of the emperor, and by extension, the antithesis of the covens themselves.

Previous - Next

[fever-project]

Silly little drawing! Silly little guys!! Triple Threat! I got inspired by @/sapphicseasapphire’s Cryptid Chain AU(back when it was still LU lol) a while back, and made all of the LU guys monsters! Just didn’t draw them yet lol. Like a Halloween episode in a show, where everyone is a monster and everyone acts like that’s normal. Wild is based on Frankenstein’s Monster, Legend is a living ventriloquist dummy, and Hyrule is a witch. Planning on drawing more of this silly stuff when I feel silly again lol

[popjunkie42]

The Thief and the Rake

Chapter Four - Say You’ll Remember Me

Read on AO3

Summary: A simple promenade at Kensington Gardens turns quite eventful as the sisters Archeron make several new acquaintances.

Thank you to @witch-and-her-witcher for the beta read!!

Chapter under the cut:

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– •

Five days, and no constables had shown up at the door.

Plenty of gentlemen, though. Every morning a flurry of tea and sugary pastries and fine cravats tucked into collars attached to suitors - some blushing, some blustering, some arrogant or boorish. Feyre had sat with them, along with her sisters, smiling and silent until her eye twitched and she longed for her stained boots and a trek through the forest.

After they left, Elain cooed over the gifts until Nesta descended on them with an unsentimental eye. Any present from someone deemed unworthy was passed to Feyre, destined for the pawn shop or street corner. A cycle to put new coins in the fingers of the modiste.

Yesterday, the sisters had turned an extravagant bouquet into the two fine parasols Elain and Nesta now sported as the sisters ambled through Kensington Garden.

Taking part in a promenade in the gardens — a place to see and be seen, which seemed antithetical to Feyre’s own goals for the next few months. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a bit of fresh air and green would do her good.

The breeze was gentle and the air was warm with the first rays of the spring sun. Though the grass was still dull, the trees were full of singing birds, the first buds of flowers and new leaves making an appearance.

And everyone who was anyone in London was out in force.

The park was littered with color — parasols and skirts spread out on the ground on woven blankets, the parties partaking in fine picnics.

Today, spring threatened to truly break free on the city like a wild storm as everyone flocked to the fresh air of the pristine gardens.

Like all things in the city, it took some getting used to. Feyre trailed behind her sisters with their new parasols, observing.

Nesta had been using their time wisely, and after the finely polished shoes of gentlemen callers stepped from their door, she was deep in research. Which seemed to be a mix of scouring newspapers and gossip columns, even so far as her making an appointment at the register’s office to check on the title and holdings of several gentlemen.

The missions she dragged Elain and Feyre on were much more pleasant. The market, tea at a cafe, and desserts at a chocolaterie. At each site, Feyre watched with a mild sense of awe as Nesta set her trap.

It was Elain, sweet and smiling, who drew in the members of the ton like bees to a flower. Young women came: some bashful and polite, others calculating and clawed, sizing up their competition. Gentlemen of all ages approached, drawn by the light of Elain’s radiant smile.

Elain welcomed and soothed them. Nesta waited for the right moment to sink in her claws, using a mix of flattery and what seemed to Feyre to be veiled threats to tease out information and garner invitations.

Feyre tried to drink her tea in a genteel way that would avoid a death glare from her eldest sister. At least the sweets were delicious enough to make the trip worthwhile.

When was the last time she had tasted such delightful confections? She could hardly recall, and by the dreamy look in even Nesta’s eye, she imagined her sisters couldn’t either.

With every bite, that cold cottage moved farther and farther away, into the realm of forgotten nightmares.

It was odd, seeing the stiff dresses and layered suits and shining dress shoes here in this flourishing garden. But although the hedges were trimmed and the grounds managed with a firm gardener’s eye, Feyre could smell the dirt and the green down to her bones.

The desire to slip off her shoes and socks and let her feet sink into the grass threatened to overwhelm her.

She could tie up her skirts and wade into the pond, searching for something to roast over a fire, the way Lucien had taught her. Afterwards she could curl up under the trailing leaves of that willow tree, sleeping behind its curtains and on a soft bed of leaves and petals. Alone and free, away from wandering eyes, finally taking a deep breath for the first time all week.

Instead, her tight, pinching shoes scraped against the gravel path. The sisters walked slowly, on display, eyes turning to watch them as they passed.

A cool breeze kicked up, and the scent of grass and new blossoms filled her nose. Feyre closed her eyes and pretended they weren’t surrounded by sneers and curious looks. Imagined fecund spring in the forest, bringing a full belly and the witnessed magic of growing things, waking after winter. She imagined resting in the crook of her favorite tree…

And ran straight into someone.

Someone as unyielding as a tree trunk. Feyre hadn’t a moment to think as she tumbled backwards towards the ground, panic at another silly faux pas flaring in her gut, until broad, warm hands were on her, holding her suspended in the air. Her eyes flew open and a cry was in her mouth – an apology, an accusation — she didn’t know, until the words died on her lips.

Standing over her was the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on.

And he was grinning, grinning like a cheshire cat.

”Hello, darling. Looks like I’ve finally caught you.”

Every hair on her body stood up at attention, and she froze like a doe staring down an arrow.

That voice…

The man’s blue eyes, so vibrant they were nearly purple, seemed to twinkle as they watched the panic flash across her face. Eyes like sparkling violet sapphires that were locked in her dresser drawer. His grin only grew, the whites of his teeth looking vicious. That slightly feral look of pleasure so incongruous with his aristocratic looks: his hair blue-black and brushed back from his face, skin kissed by the sun, high, sharp cheekbones and a distinguished Roman nose.

Hello, darling.

Against her will, she felt a tightening in her gut, her body recalling that graveled purr against her ear under the moonlight.

Her feet threatened to slip from under her, her body itching to bolt, but his hands still held her firm, one banded around her waist and another wrapped tightly around her bicep in a strange pantomime of a dance.

Panic rose within her and set her blood boiling.

She was trapped in his arms. He was going to call the constable. He was going to haul her in to the Magistrate on Bow Street. Everyone would see. Including her sisters, who she had failed at the very first instance. And the penalty for stealing from the aristocracy…a noose, not a necklace, around her neck.

She opened her mouth, to plead, to bargain when —

“Rhys? Who is this?”

Maybe when she had closed her eyes she had stumbled into a fairytale. Standing behind her captor was a glowing goddess of a woman, her blond hair in loose curls cascading down her back, contrasting with a blood-red dress and an embroidered gold jacket Feyre knew she could never steal enough to afford.

But the woman’s face was kind, if a bit perplexed, as she fixed Feyre with her soft brown eyes and a smile.

Feyre’s mouth could only open, then hinge shut. A fish caught on a line.

The man, confident enough that she was in too much of a state of shock to run, pulled her back to standing, releasing his grip from her waist, something wild and dangerous sparking in his eyes.

After too long of a silence, he finally chimed in with that deep, sonorous voice that sent shivers down her skin. “This lady attended our ball. We met, briefly, but I unfortunately didn’t merit a proper introduction.”

“Ah. Well, I’m Lady Morrigan.” Another gentleman, obviously of nobility, stepped up beside her, a brow raised in amused confusion at the odd scene. “And this is Grand Duke Nolan, our guest for the week as he takes in the sights.”

Feyre looked ahead to see her sisters far beyond her, having not even noticed she wasn’t behind them anymore. She was on her own and unable to squeak out a single word.

“And –”

“Please, call me Rhys.”

Feyre stiffened, sure he was mocking her. Her annoyance lead her to her voice.

“That doesn’t seem entirely proper, sir.”

Lady Morrigan was smiling, her face bright and open like the summer sun. “My cousin is the Viscount Sterling, although he hates to stand on ceremony most days.”

Sterling…Sterling…the ball…

Oh, God. He was the host. Of course he was, Feyre thought, cursing her sluggish mind. A Viscount, the owner of that grand manor, that could house her village and feed them all with the forgotten jewelry pillowed in dust.

His smile was a fiendish slash across his handsome features.

“Has my name stolen your voice away, lady, or can we be properly introduced?”

Feyre cursed the aristocracy, the King, the insufferable rules of society that were going to force her to politely give her name up to the man she had robbed. All moisture had left her mouth and amidst the cold fear in her stomach, a momentary thought that she would love nothing more than to claw that insufferable smile off of his face with her fingernails.

“Feyre Archeron,” she managed to rasp.

“Miss Feyre Archeron,” the Viscount repeated after her, each syllable rolled gently in his mouth. Like he was mocking her. Like he was dictating out the conviction himself. Feyre shivered. “I look forward to furthering our acquaintance, Miss Archeron.”

She was utterly fucked.

“And are you here with your family?” The Grand Duke asked, seeming bored, the opposite of the Viscount’s hawk-eyed lock on her, as he scanned the park while his cane sunk further into the wet grass.

Her gaze traveled again to her sisters, now chatting with a gentleman in the shade, their great concern for her evident.

“I’m here with my sisters. We’re…new. To London.”

The Duke and the Viscount shared a glance between them that set off warning bells in Feyre’s chest. “What a lovely family of sisters,” Graysen said, eyes drifting to them as Elain’s musical laugh traveled across the breeze. “We would be remiss in not showing new arrivals about the place.”

“An excellent notion.” Horrifyingly, the Viscount extended an arm to Feyre, who regarded it like a dead fish.

“You seem to be unsteady on your feet, darling. Please, allow me.”

In a daze, Feyre took his arm, feeling the hand he clasped over her own like irons.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– •

Nesta’s eyes went wide only for a moment when Feyre introduced the Lady, Viscount and Grand Duke she had reeled in somehow, entirely against her will. Any excitement on her sister’s part would soon be dashed when the Viscount revealed her crimes.

”I hope my little sister has not caused you too much trouble.”

Feyre’s face heated against the accusation. She had, but Nesta needn’t point it out.

Elain, as always, swept in with polite grace. “We so enjoyed the ball on Sunday, my Lord. It was our first and I’m afraid it will be difficult for the rest of the season to be any grander.”

The Viscount bowed his head, a single errant lock of hair springing free to brush over his forehead. He still held Feyre’s hand against his arm, a firm and unyielding grip even as she tried every few minutes to tug it free. Maybe he would promenade her straight to the gallows, smiles and politeness the whole way.

”You’re too kind, Miss Elain. I’m delighted to hear it swept you off your feet.” His eyes, his smile was on Feyre again, and she wondered if he could feel the rapid beat of her heart in her fingertips.

”Come, ladies, the Viscount and I were just saying we would be poor hosts if we didn’t show newcomers the sights of the city.” The Grand Duke extended a gloved hand. “Miss Elain, might I do the honor of showing you the gardens?”

Elain, blushing pink, gently took his outstretched arm, the picture of a perfectly demure lady.

Feyre gave a final, useless tug of her fingers against the Viscount’s grip. This time, she scowled openly as his eyes slid to her.

”Miss Nesta?” Lady Morrigan seemed to pick up on whatever social undercurrents were sliding through this strange new gathering. “I positively love your dress. You must give me the name of your modiste.”

Nesta blinked once, twice, eyeing the Lady’s obviously fine wardrobe of silks and brocade, worth all three of their outfits combined. “I doubt you’ll find them to your liking, lady, but if you insist,” and she turned away to stalk after Elain. Feyre couldn’t find it in her to cringe at her sister’s dismissal, her heart still racing at an unnatural pace.

Lady Morrigan turned back to the Viscount with eyebrows raised. Some look was shared between them, the soft unspoken language of family passing back and forth. Her brown eyes flickered between her cousin and Feyre, and with a light sigh, she smiled and took off after Nesta.

They were alone.

The first few steps down the path in silence were unbearable. But Feyre didn’t know how to begin a polite conversation, much less one with a powerful lord who might ruin her life in the next five minutes.

Fortunately, the Viscount did.

”I am so glad we ran into each other, Miss Archeron. I was quite put out we weren’t introduced at the ball. After I changed my outfit and choked up a lung full of dust, I spent the rest of the night searching for your lovely face amongst the crowd.”

The stream of obscenities passing through Feyre’s mind would make any lady faint.

”I’m sorry, my Lord. I believe there’s been a misunderstanding.”

”Oh?” His voice was all amusement.

”I…was lost.” Fuck, fuck, fuck.

”How unfortunate. The summer manor is rather large. However, I’m afraid a rather valuable item was also lost after your quick departure.”

Oh.

“Perhaps you’d like to try another story? This path does go on for several miles. Although I will say, when push comes to shove, I can be quite susceptible to lies when they come from a pretty mouth such as yours.”

Feyre scoffed, remembering Elain’s words from Lucien. Rake, philanderer, untrustworthy aristocrat. Right. And apparently, a shameless flirt.

“My lord, your language is awfully familiar for having just made my acquaintance. Is this how you usually speak to ladies?”

“Only those who have swept me off my feet. Quite literally, I mean.”

She stopped abruptly, unable to bite back the panic transforming into anger inside her throat. “What do you want, my lord?”

That same insufferable smirk. “I think you know exactly what I want, Miss Archeron.”

“It’s long gone.”

They had stopped, Mor and Nesta’s prying ears moving far past them.

Something hard gleamed in his eyes then, a marked change from the cat toying with a mouse. “If that’s true, I’m afraid it’s quite unfortunate. There will have to be an inquiry, and I will spare no expense to make sure every corner is searched, every guest investigated, until that necklace is returned to me.”

Feyre willed her expression to ice.

“I suppose,” he said, turning to pick a flower petal off of his inky dark jacket, “that if it were to be returned to me before, say, the Churchill ball this Saturday, it would appear to not be a theft, but rather a short term loan, and one satisfyingly concluded.” He smiled. “In fact, I would be rather thrilled that it could be appreciated by such a fine lady such as yourself.”

Feyre ground her teeth. To return the necklace, to botch her very first job – Smith could turn her in himself, or smear her name with any rumors he chose. Without recommendations, or a reputation among future clientele, she’d be lost before they even began.

“I –”

As Feyre opened her mouth, a familiar cry echoed across the pathway and between the trees.

“Elain!” Feyre whipped her head around to find her sister.

Dress in the mud, face half in her hands, Elain was lying on the grass, still clutching the Grand Duke’s arm. But when she tried to pull herself up onto her leg, she cried out again, crumpling down into the grass.

Feyre ran, finally ripping her arm free of the Viscount’s grip, passing Nesta as she hiked up her skirts, falling into the mud and grass beside her sister.

“Are you hurt?”

The Grand Duke kneeled beside the sisters but Feyre didn’t notice him at all, her eyes locked to the ashen pale face of Elain, pinched in pain.

“I think — my ankle,” she said with a quiet grimace.

“Please, my lady. Do not try to get up. We must let you take weight off of it, and ascertain if it is broken.”

Feyre glared at the Grand Duke, somehow all poise and calm even kneeing in the mud from last night’s rain.

Nesta’s hand was a leaden weight on Feyre’s shoulder, and the youngest finally observed the small crowd of ladies and gentlemen gathered around them, gawking.

Elain noticed too, and Nesta’s fingers dug further into Feyre’s skin as their middle sister’s face went from pale to blush to pale again as she scrambled against Graysen’s arm.

“Please, it’s no trouble, if I could only get to my feet we can move on —”

“Miss, I served in His Majesty’s navy, I’ve seen many injuries. We must get you to a doctor and you must promise me not to put an ounce of weight on it until you’re given permission to do so.”

“I…”

The duke caught Elain’s chin with a single finger, tilting her face upwards to him, a frustrated tear escaping from her eye.

“Promise me, Miss Elain. I will not be gainsaid when it comes to the wellbeing of a young lady under my care.”

Feyre did not think the new blush spreading on Elain’s cheek was from embarrassment.

She watched as her sister sniffled once and then nodded her eyes locked on the Duke’s.

“My phaeton, then. I will take you to Doctor Fitzwilliam.”

Elain gasped as Duke Graysen swept her into his arms in a smooth motion, lifting her out of the mud as if she weighed no more than an errant leaf.

“Graysen, is that wise? We should call upon the girl’s parents at least. Does your phaeton have room for more of you? I’m sure she does not wish to be alone.”

In the fray, the Viscount and his cousin had caught up, joining the murmuring crowd surrounding them and watching the spectacle. Elain was a dark shade of red as she turned her head towards the Grande Duke’s shoulder, ladies tittering around them.

“I can take one more in the carriage.”

Feyre’s heart dropped slightly as Elain reached out and clung to Nesta’s hand.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” she whispered, her face torn between mortification and excitement, the words low enough for only her sisters to hear. “I really did slip.”

“Come, Miss Elain, Miss Nesta. We’ll be at the doctor’s in only a few moments.”

His long legs carried them away quickly, Nesta pulled along by the tether of Elain’s hand.

It took a moment for Feyre to feel their absence. The crowd of onlookers was still around them, now staring at her. She looked down at her dress — cleaned and pristine and white this morning — now slathered with mud up her entire left side, green grass stains across her knees.

Alone. She was alone. Aunt Ripleigh was sending a carriage for them but that wasn’t until after lunch…

A firm hand caught her wrist as she went to push the hair out of her face, disheveled and pulled out of her braid. Her eyes snapped to the Viscount.

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at her fingers, which she only now realized were dripping in mud.

Her face heated as the crowd fell away slowly. She couldn’t seem to go a day, not even an hour without some humiliating moment in front of the whole ton.

“Might I escort you home, Miss Archeron?”

Feyre let all of her ire, embarrassment and panic enter her glare at him. He was everything working against her now — him and his thoughtless wealth and title, the knowledge of her failures hung over her, now quite literal as she stood before him, filthy and abandoned.

Instead of answering, she stalked off towards the grand gates of the park.

Chest heaving and her face flush, Feyre walked quickly to outrun her own panic. It felt like even the trees and hedges had eyes, watching her stalk away.

But better to cause a small scandal than let him drag her to the Magistrate the moment she was in his carriage. She would rather walk the gauntlet of the whole ton in her soiled dress than make it easy for him to ruin her, to be led into his trap like a demure and bridled beast.

“—eyre.”

Blood was rushing in her ears. Feyre huffed, skirts in hand, working her muscles hard as black creeped at the edges of her vision. Muscles she was afraid of losing, losing herself, becoming trapped in this place, or worse, a prison cell.

“Miss Feyre!”

She whirled as a hand was placed on her shoulder, but instead of violet eyes and a smirk, only the concerned face of Lady Morrigan met her.

“Miss Feyre, please. I know we’ve only just met, but you’ve had quite a shock. Please, let me fetch the carriage and see you home safely.”

Feyre turned to see the figure of the Viscount, dark and foreboding, shoulders hunched as he watched them at a distance, in between the blossoming flowers.

“What about the Viscount?”

The Lady followed her gaze, turning back with a smirk that must be a shared family trait. “He’s a grown man. I’m sure he’ll figure something out without us. Or, he can walk home. Might be humbling for him to break in those shiny shoes.”

Something about her insouciant tone and the playful mischief in her eyes let Feyre take a deep breath. Maybe she was a fool, to trust the cousin of the man she stole from, maybe she was just as likely to trap her. But truly — she could not stomp her way back to Mayfair covered in mud, alone, without Nesta having her head once Elain was taken care of.

“I — I would be very grateful, Lady.”

“Please,” she said with a blinding smile, “call me Mor.”

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Tag list

@danedechance @rosanna-writer @fantasticanonsense18 @dreamlandreader @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @annaskareninas @foundress0fnothing @areyoudreaminof @cauldronblssd @starfall-spirit

[kingofinsight]

The LU boys as Into the Woods characters:

Legend is the witch from nextdoor. I don’t have a good reason for this, it just feels right.

Sky is Jack, and his loftwing is Milky White (the cow). I will refrain from making any Giants In the Sky jokes.

Twilight is the Big Bad Wolf. Self explanatory.

Wild is Rapunzel, because of the hair.

Wind is Little Red Riding Hood. Prove me wrong, you can’t.

Time is the baker (ft. Malon as his wife). I just think it would be funny, plus the whole “dad” thing.

Hyrule is Cinderella. It was a very close race between him and Wild, as to who would talk to birds and trees.

Warriors is Rapunzel/Snow White’s prince. I think he has a thing about dwarfs. He finds them very upsetting.

Four is Cinderella/Sleeping Beauty’s prince, because out of all of the boys, I think a thicket would give him the most trouble. He was also a contender for Jack and Little Red Riding Hood.

[webhead3345]

This was born from two prompts I saw around the same time that seemed to go well together. This one and this one. (@candy8448, I don’t know if you’re interested but here’s this in case you are XD)

Tags: Hurt/comfort (I think?), Legend (LU), the Chain (LU), Ravio (even though I’ve never played a game with him), fires,

Words: 4,025

Legend’s House (fic beneath the cut)

Legend was babbling. He knew he was. But still, when they came across a mushroom alongside the road he found himself informing all the others that he only usually found those mushrooms in the forest and that the old potion witch could turn it into a handy magic dust.

The others listened with varying levels of interest, but no one tried to interrupt. Maybe that was only fair due to the rapt attention Legend always paid in the other Hyrules, or maybe they were actually interested in the little tidbits that he came across to talk about.

He didn’t really care either way. His chest was buzzing with excitement to finally be home again and for a chance to show his own Hyrule to the others. Of course, it wasn’t so sparkly and pristine as some of them, but just wait until they got to try his apples.

He knew it was harvest time by now and he hasn’t told them yet that he lived on an orchard, but once they got a taste of his uncle’s apples—

“How much farther?” Wind asked, practically jumping with excitement. Maybe Legend was putting it on too thick. If he got them to expect too much they would be disappointed in his humble abode. “Are we almost to your house?”

“Almost,” Legend shaded his eyes and looked up at the tree line. The fact that they were in a familiar area he’d avoided during his first adventure because it used to be crawling with brainwashed knights was swept from his mind at the sight in the sky. “Oh no.”

That drew all the Links’ attention and gazes turned up to look at the dark plume of smoke billowing up above the highest branches.

Legend’s buzzing excitement turned to worry in half a second, just before Wild voiced his fears. “That’s a fire.”

Legend didn’t wait for more confirmation. He kicked his heels, pegasus boots activating, and dashed toward his house.

He hardly heard the others shouting for him to wait or be careful, and barely registered that Four was right at his elbow keeping up, or the sound of Epona’s hooves behind.

The others would catch up, but they couldn’t wait a second. He skidded to a stop, then turned and took a sharp corner, Four following deftly just behind.

Then his legs froze up so fast he nearly rolled through the grass with all the momentum.

His orchard. His house. All of it was burning.

“No,” the gasp strangled out between his lips, but he didn’t have a second to waste. Ravio could still be inside. He could be in danger. And if that fire spread…

Legend steeled his nerves, shoving down all the emotions and words that wanted to rise up inside of him and he dashed in quiet with resolve.

The fire roared and crackled, but now he could hear voices shouting over the sound. Soot stained villagers from Kakariko were casting buckets of water at the hungry blaze, and some were running back to refill them at the river.

A purple tunic and hood caught Legend’s attention and all his intention to dart into the burning building faded with the sight.

Ravio was coughing into a hand and a woman—one who always shouted for the guards when Legend’s wanted poster had been everywhere—sat beside him, patting his back and bandaging his other hand.

Safe. Ravio was the only other person in the house. Legend didn’t really have many visitors. He turned his attention to the blaze instead.

It was a deadly threat, to everyone here and to the rest of Hyrule, especially Kakariko. If they didn’t stop the fire, it could spread who knew how far.

Legend dug his ice rod out of his pouch and rushed in to help with dousing the flames. He didn’t think of anything else the whole time he worked. Didn’t have time to talk when he passed villagers or when he noticed the other links had arrived at some point and were also aiding in the effort.

It didn’t seem like long at all before he had to drink one of his green potions, but he did so without a second thought and set to work again.

With the additional aid the villagers and heroes were actually managing to get the flames in check.

As the sun was setting that evening, Legend slumped to the ground in exhaustion. His ice rod tapped the dirt beside him and he nearly just dropped it, staring out at the vast expanse of broken remains of charred trees.

His charred trees. Withered and burnt fruits littered the black stained earth, disgusting and destroyed. Not sweet and bright red as they once had been.

His uncle had always boasted about Legend’s careful tending of the orchard. His watchful and meticulous eye over every bit of it, even at a young age. His praise had made the job three times the worth of doing, and quickly shooed away all the wild ideas he’d ever had of being a knight.

Now Legend stared at his orchard. His home. And the pounding of his heart didn’t quite slow as he took it in and finally the calm collected mask of a hero began to drop as he saw the ruins of the last remaining normalcy in his life.

“Legend?” Time’s voice resounded with that same deep-throated command. That calm collection he always wore.

“How did this happen?” Legend couldn’t bring himself to say more than that, staring out at his trees. His uncles trees. His livelihood and life beyond adventures.

A strong hand dropped on his shoulder. “Sometimes accidents happen. We’re lucky the fire didn’t spread further than this one farm.” Time gave him a slight tug. “We’d best be moving on, if we’re going to get to your place before nightfall.”

Legend’s eyes stung and his ears burned. All his boasting before seemed idiotic now. His hands trembled as he looked over the lands, but a new thought struck him before he had a chance to say much else.

No.

Legend spun around, dropping the ice rod completely and scrambled to his feet away from Time’s firm presence and back through the charred stumps of once healthy trees.

He passed villagers having burns tended, some by Hyrule and Warriors, and some by other members of the village. He passed Wind and Wild throwing balls of soot at each other and laughing at how blackened they already were.

He passed Four, Sky, and Twilight gathering newly arrived children together for an effort of bringing water to all the adults.

None of that seemed to matter at all. It didn’t take him long to make his way over the familiar path to the old shack he’d spent the majority of his life in.

His home. His uncle’s home before him. Everything that he had left of him. His hands were trembling again as he moved to the door—half off its hinges—and pushed against it, the wood still warm.

The door gave way and dropped into a mound of rubble just behind with a puff of ash. Legend stared at the remains of his small home.

Everything he’d had he’d saved within these walls. Thousands of collections. So many different items, both helpful and totally worthless strewn about in meticulously organized chests.

Legend stepped in, surveying the damage and hardly even noticing the dangerous way the ceiling creaked above him. Though he did see places where it had already caved in, bringing some of the walls with it.

They had to be here. If nothing else, Legend had to find his uncle’s sword and shield. The first weapons Legend had ever taken up and the last thing his caretaker had ever given him. They had to be here somewhere.

“Mr. Hero.” The voice was a nervous squeak.

Legend’s trembling fists tightened into balls and he hunched his shoulders up toward his ears. “Not now, Ravio.” He started in, digging through the ashy piles of ruin and searching for anything that might still be intact.

“But Mr. Hero…”

“What happened?” Legend demanded, shoving through another useless pile of rubble.

“I-I don’t know,” the merchant stuttered. “Everything was quiet and I was looking through my wares and I smelled smoke and I thought maybe the oven, but no, and then I checked outside but I didn’t see any signs and then there was a blaze inside and I didn’t know what to do and I-“

“My stuff,” Legend grunted as he pushed a beam out of the way. “Did you take out any of my stuff?”

Ravio’s silence was answer enough.

Legend kept digging.

===

They didn’t know what Legend was looking for, but whatever it was it was clear it was important to him.

The chain gathered at the fallen door of the old farmhouse and gazed in at the wreckage, and Sky couldn’t help but wonder who the unfortunately soul to lose their house so suddenly might be.

Did they go back with the townspeople when they’d left earlier? Did they have family to stay with until they could rebuild?

Legend was digging through the soot in a serious silence, already stained ashy black and gray from fighting the fire, his efforts were only making it worse.

Similarly, the boy dressed in purple sat near the door with a bunny hood pulled over his face and his head hanging. He didn’t even seem to notice them when they tried to speak to him and that made Sky wonder if this was his house.

Was Legend looking for something for the man?

Four was the first one to move, rolling up his sleeves and screwing his face with determination. “Well, this is gonna take forever if we make him do it alone.”

And then they all filtered into the house after Legend and started sifting through the wreckage for anything they might be able to salvage.

It was dark, the area lit with a few lanterns and candles now. They’d found various odd items in different conditions. A few dented pots that could be salvaged, a chest that was only half charred full of outfits that were a little worse off but not ruined.

They had a small collection near the doorway now, and the man in purple had since joined the search in a sullen silence, and he didn’t lift his hood.

Sky let out a little gasp when he lifted a beam to find a mutilated sword and shield beneath, dented and half melted, and twisted in so many ways it shouldn’t be, he nearly left it there.

But his expression of surprise drew Legend’s gaze momentarily as it always did when they found something new.

Only this time the Veteran didn’t turn straight back to his work. He let out a strangled gasp and climbed over a hill of rubble between them before dropping to his knees in the ash and reaching a hesitant hand toward the sword and shield.

His fingers were trembling.

“Is this what we’ve been looking for, Legend?” Sky’s quiet question drew more gazes, but Legend still didn’t answer.

He didn’t touch the sword either. He pulled his hand back and hugged it to his chest as though he’d been burned and he didn’t move.

“Legend?” Sky lowered himself to a knee next to him, but the hero still didn’t look at him.

He’d been getting the idea for a while now that this meant more to Legend than some request from the owner. This was more personal than just some orchard in his Hyrule.

Sky set a gentle hand on his arm and the younger teen didn’t even seem to notice. “Legend. Is this your home?”

His shoulders hiked higher and his ears pinned against his head. And then it struck the Veteran at once and his shoulders started to shake.

Sky’s hold on his arm tightened and carefully he pulled himself closer and wrapped his arms around the tiny hero, who curled up and crumpled only seemed smaller.

Legend didn’t move to return the hug or seem to notice it at all. He still faced toward the sword, curled inward, and cried silent tears.

Sky waved the others off. He didn’t know if they realized what was going on by the sight of Sky hugging Legend, or if they were just ready to listen to any guidance given, but they backed away and gave the Veteran some space.

After another few minutes, the quiet hiccuping breathes choked off and Legend’s body stiffened, as if noticing the arms around him for the first time.

“I’m fine,” he said in a hoarse voice, gently pushing Sky’s arms off him and still not looking his direction as he scrubbed at his face. “I’m fine.”

By the reverent, almost scared, way he picked up the shattered and melted blade and shield and carried them out of the house with a hanging head, Sky didn’t really believe him.

===

“Ah, the comforts of an inn,” Warriors said sarcastically as he dropped onto one of the beds. “I guess we can’t blame the Veteran for failing to calculate a fire into his schedule, but I’d certainly hoped we were closer to his house than this.”

“Warriors!” Sky’s snap was enough to draw everyone’s attention in the room. “Didn’t you put it together?”

Their whispers floated over Legend’s ears like distant waves. He squeezed the sheet in front of him where he faced the wall, but he didn’t move more than that.

“That house was Legend’s.”

Sky’s simple words brought a silence to the others. Legend hated that even more. The pitying looks he knew—could feel—were being pointed in his direction. Not least of those coming from Sky who’d seen the way he lost it by his uncle’s old sword.

It was broken, beyond repair. It would never be used again.

Legend closed his eyes and tried to push the thoughts away. Tried to drown them in the idea that this was just another adventure and someday he would go back and find his home waiting for him.

It didn’t work. Even as each of his companions dropped off one by one, Legend couldn’t sleep.

Ravio had burned his hands trying to put out the fires. Knowing that made Legend feel a little guilty for blaming him for the whole thing, even if he’d never voiced any blame for the merchant to hear.

He knew the others wanted to talk without him by the not-so-covert glances they kept sending at him, so he took Ravio for a walk to get his hands rebandaged so they could have the chance.

He felt sick the whole way, half because of what he knew had happened, and half because he knew exactly what they had to talk about. He didn’t know if he could take any pitying looks. If he could take that constant reminder and that shame.

He could use more Red Potion. He considered for more than just a minute sneaking out the back of town and making his way to the witch’s to buy more.

But time wouldn’t really gain him anything. In the end, he would have to face them again, and when that time came, it wouldn’t be different than it was going to be now. There was no point in prolonging the inevitable, so together he and Ravio made their way back toward the inn and the ring of heroes gathered before it.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hero,” Ravio said quietly, fiddling with his sleeves over his newly bandages hands. “I-“

“It’s not your fault.” Legend’s words came out harsher than he intended, but Ravio didn’t try to take the blame again.

That was the last thing Legend wanted to be talking about when they re-entered the ring of heroes. Not to mention it wasn’t Ravio’s fault for all he could tell. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

The Chain was serious and quiet when they stepped up to the circle. It was a stiff silence that made Legend feel awkward.

He was about to break into it with an ill-tempered comment, but Ravio was faster.

“I suppose now would be a bad time to bring up the new flame-proof merchandise I have in store?” He chuckled a little beneath the bunny hood he hadn’t removed since the fire. “But the again, I’d hate to see the same happen to any of you and I’d be willing to part with a sample for only thirty-one odd rupees.”

Wind spluttered his shock, but Legend pushed Ravio’s words aside. “Well, I don’t have anywhere to take us to stay better than this. We might as well get down to business sooner than later. No sense sitting around doing nothing.”

“Legend…” Sky’s voice was soft and all too full of pity. Legend glared at him. It wouldn’t surprise him if the Skyloftian had spilled all the juicy details of Legend’s breakdown while he was away. Sky snapped his mouth shut at the look, but he lifted his chin and firmed his expression.

“We’re not leaving just yet,” Time said, crossing his arms.

“Yeah? Why not?”

Four hefted a hammer over his shoulder and gave a crooked smile. “Because we’ve got work to do.”

Legend blinked at him.

“We can’t replace everything you’ve lost,” Sky said softly, “but we’d like to help with what we can.”

Legend’s eyes burned again and his face grew hot. He pinned his ears and forced a half-hearted sneer. “Do what you want. I won’t stop you.”

Most of them grinned at that. They turned to start the trek toward where there was still a smoldering smoke in the air above his old house, and Legend felt off balance.

They took his comment with none of their own, their easy smiles and their willingness to help.

All his years on the road and adventuring, of course he’d had people help him, but…

Not like this. He’d never once experienced what it felt like to be on the other end of all those insistent quest, only he didn’t even have anything to offer to them in return.

He folded his arms in front of him and ducked his head as the reality sank in of how much he lost and how much their words meant to him. “Guys?”

The heroes ahead of him stopped at his tone, glancing over shoulders and casting him inquisitive looks.

Legend tightened his fingers in his sleeves and forced himself to meet each of their gazes, even if only for a second. “Thanks.”

Warrior’s grin broadens. “Don’t thank us yet. Who knows what this house is gonna turn out like.”

“Yeah! I don’t expect us to do all the work, either,” Wild said, waving for Legend to follow them. “C’mon! We never even saw the house when it was whole.”

Legend rolled his eyes and threw his hands into the air. “That’s not how side-quests are supposed to work and you know it!” But he was smirking too when he followed after them, Ravio dogging his heels.

The heroes made fast work, and even some of the villagers came to help. At least now that they considered Legend and hero and not a fugitive they were more than happy to lend a hand here and there.

He was especially glad for the presence of an actual builder to make sure his new house was sturdy and not just a pile of wood slapped together.

Legend went out to survey his trees, and some actually managed to survive on the outer edge, though a lot of them were saplings he only planted recently.

Legend tended to the endangered remains of his apple trees in a reverent silence, and once he sat back on his heels, wiping his face with dirt covered hands and looking at one of the small trees, he felt his throat tighten.

It wasn’t all gone. He hadn’t lost everything. He smiled and ran his fingers down one of the branches. “The next batch is sure to be the best one yet, Uncle. Just you wait and see.”

The heroes worked hard on the small cottage until they had it completed. They all cheered as Legend stepped into his newly built home and looked around.

The charred remains of salvaged goods sat in one corner, and in the other was a pile of new furniture the chain had either built or bought—he wasn’t sure because he hadn’t seen any of it until this moment—precariously wobbling as if it was ready to fall any second.

It was small and cozy, and so similar to what he grew up in, even if the differences were glaring and obvious. They were beautiful too.

Sky had carved some extra designs into the mantle when Legend mentioned the old one had engravings, but Sky’s were clearly from a practiced Skyloftian, depictions of loftwings, the Triforce, and pumpkins for some reason.

Wild somehow had a picture of the Chain framed on the wall, and Wind had hung hooks and shelves all over one side of the house for Legend’s various instruments.

Time and Warriors had worked together on his endlessly creaky door and actually got it to stop being the way it always was, and Hyrule and Twilight cleaned the whole place so it was more spotless than ever.

Legend stared at it, but his eyes caught on the empty hooks above the fireplace. The hooks that should’ve had something of great family importance hanging on them.

His heart twinged, but this moment was honestly too happy to let something like that bother him. He’d just have to find one of the weapons from his adventures to display there when this was all over.

“Ledge?” Four stopped just behind him and Legend turned to find him holding the shattered blade and shield in front of him.

His uncle’s weapons had been mended as well as their mangled frames would allow. They were still bent and melted and in no way sturdy, but they were certainly more suit for display now.

Legend took them gently and he couldn’t even bring himself to meet the smithy’s eyes. He just stared at that blade and his reflection in it. His dumbfounded and awestruck reflection.

All this. For him?

“Well? You gonna hang it up or stand there staring all day? Trust me, a real mirror would work a lot better than a battered blade.”

Legend snorted and raised his eyebrows at Warriors. “I haven’t a doubt that you would know.”

He turned and lifted them above the fireplace, and he paused after he’d set them on display, looking at the weapons that started this all. A small smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “I think we’ll be okay, Uncle.”

He turned and found all the heroes watching him with satisfied smiles, and even Ravio had his hood down in the corner where he was setting up a tiny shop.

He met Four’s eyes and gave him a single nod of thanks, then he stepped away from the fireplace. “I’ve got good friends watching my back,” he murmured.

“What?” Warrior’s grinned as he raised a hand to his ear. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Legend rolled his eyes and shoved past him playfully. “None of your business, fancy pants.” He paused in the doorway and breathed in the fresh air of a northern wind, already blowing away the smoky scent. “Thank you all. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Quiet murmured ascent drifted through the room after his statement. Then Wind broke through it all. “Does that mean we can stay here for free?”

Ravio opened his mouth and Legend had to rush to get the words out first. “Of course you can!”

Ravio hunched his shoulders and Legend smirked at him.

At least in this house he knew, even when this was all over, he would have a home and at least one friend to come back to.

He turned to look it over again and his chest warmed. And with all these reminders, he would remember each and every one of them.

[starglossie]

moonlit passion shiguang | explicit | 3.3k in which cheng xiaoshi asks lu guang to finally take, and he does. can be read under cut & on ao3!

Cheng Xiaoshi cannot sleep.

He’s too restless. Too keyed up. He feels like a container of live wires popping off like biting snakes, wild and untamed. He balls up his blanket in his fist, looking up at the bunk bed above him with ire. He can’t sleep. And the reason for it all is literally right above him.

“Lu Guang,” Cheng Xiaoshi whispers into the starry night. Moonlight peaks through the dusty panes of their bedroom window bathing their room in an almost fairy-like glow. He doesn’t get a response back and frowns. “Lu Guang,” he says again, this time a little more forceful.

There’s a stirring from up above, followed by the rustling of sheets. Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart stutters in anticipation. He can barely contain the smile on his face when he sees white hair poking out from over the railing of the bed. Then, it’s Lu Guang. Looking down at him with sleep in his eyes. He’s annoyed, if his tiny glare is any indication. But Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t care.

“What? It’s 2:00 am, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“The witching hour,” Cheng Xiaoshi whispers teasingly. Lu Guang rolls his eyes and says no, idiot, that’s 3:00 am. “Doesn’t matter. Come here,” he extends his hand out for Lu Guang, as if he’s reaching into the universe to pluck a star out of the sky. “I’m cold.”

Lu Guang blinks rapidly. His cheeks dust a tiny pink that makes Cheng Xiaoshi want to bite them and bite them and bite them. He whispers back, “It’s the summertime… How are you possibly cold?”

Cheng Xiaoshi smiles and goes, “If I’m not with you, I’m always cold.”

He waits. Because he has to be patient with Lu Guang. He learned at the beginning of their… relationship (friends to partners to something more than that, but not less than love) that Lu Guang was very cat-like. Ironic, yes, he knows considering his friend’s choice of aesthetic. But it was fitting!

He has to approach Lu Guang carefully or else he’ll get spooked and run away. It’s mind boggling to consider when Lu Guang is always there. Right beside Cheng Xiaoshi. So close they’re practically always touching. Lu Guang comes to him like the moon without orbit who cannot stay away from Cheng Xiaoshi’s gravitational pull. And Cheng Xiaoshi welcomes him in a hunger he cannot name but no amount of food can fulfill.

It’s not like Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t do the same—doesn’t try to find Lu Guang in every aspect of his life, running to him as if they’ll never have enough time to be together as much as they want.

The difference is this: Lu Guang moves around Cheng Xiaoshi like he’s… afraid. Afraid to touch because what if it’s the last time he can? Afraid to reach out because what if something—Cheng Xiaoshi—breaks? He looks haunted. A ghost. And no matter how many times Cheng Xiaoshi screams at Lu Guang that he is alive and wants to be taken—it’s like Lu Guang already denies himself. Already says: “I can’t”.

Well, not tonight.

Cheng Xiaoshi realized a long time ago that Lu Guang wants this as much as he does.

So he wants to take—and he wants to be taken in return.

“Cheng Xiaoshi-” and there it is, the broken way he says Cheng Xiaoshi’s name as if he’s mourning over Cheng Xiaoshi’s funeral casket covered in white lilies. “Go back to bed.” It’s a desperate plea.

Cheng Xiaoshi wants to hear that desperate plea but in another way. “No.” He is resolute. “I’ll come up there, or you come down here, but I need you.” His own voice begins to shake. What was it about expressing your desires, the things that tore up your gut inside and made you something unrecognizable, that was so hard to talk about?

Cheng Xiaoshi was a rather bold fellow. Stupid in some senses, brazen in others, but he never shied away from what he wanted. He wants Lu Guang. Does he think he deserves this? That he’s even worthy to have someone like Lu Guang look at him as if he’s a once in a lifetime opportunity? No. Not at all. There are days where Cheng Xiaoshi waits for the earthquake to come that shifts their lives and breaks them apart. He waits for the day when Lu Guang just… isn’t there anymore.

And he’s trying to stop that. He’s trying to tell his younger self that Lu Guang won’t be taken away from him so suddenly without any explanation, without any closure, without remorse, like his parents.

He tells himself that it is okay to want this, and to go for it.

He hopes Lu Guang can see the hope in his eyes. He hopes Cheng Xiaoshi can hear, in the quietness of the night where only crickets are chirping, the maddening thundering of his heartbeat.

He hopes.

“Come down here,” he says.

It’s not a request.

Lu Guang disappears. Fuck. Cheng Xiaoshi throws his outstretched hand over his eyes and groans. He fucked up. He pushed Lu Guang too far and now-

His bed creaks with the addition of a new weight. A finger scratches at his palm. Once, twice, three times. Cheng Xiaoshi’s breath catches in his throat. He’s here. He hesitantly moves his hand down, eyes peeking. He looks expectantly up at Lu Guang who’s staring down at him with a look he cannot place. But he knows how it makes him feel. A heat runs down to his belly. Sits there and makes a home in-between his legs.

Lu Guang presses his index finger against Lu Guang’s palm. He traces the love lines on his hand. Then, he takes Cheng Xiaoshi’s hand and brings it to his lips.

Cheng Xiaoshi explodes.

A red blush takes up his face like a wildfire. Lu Guang doesn’t break eye contact as he kisses each knuckle. His dark blue eyes are sparkling with something Cheng Xiaoshi can finally name—desire. Want.

Lu Guang mutters against his hand. “Is this… okay?

There’s layers to that question. He’s not sure if that question was even for him. Maybe, Lu Guang was making a prayer to whichever god would listen to him. He’s not sure why he has to ask? Maybe for formality. Maybe to reassure himself that this was good… for him. For them.

Cheng Xiaoshi decides to answer on the universe’s behalf.

He sits up. His blanket pools at his waist. He takes his free hand and holds it against Lu Guang’s neck. His fingers play with the back of his head, running through white strands of soft hair. Lu Guang’s breath hitches. It’s small but it’s sharp. Cheng Xiaoshi licks his lips. He takes his other hand from Lu Guang and holds it against Lu Guang’s cheek. He runs his thumb along Lu Guang’s cheek bone. A red blush is left behind in his wake that sinks itself all the way down Lu Guang’s neck.

Lu Guang’s lips part. His eyes dart down to Cheng Xiaoshi’s mouth. Then, as if electrocuted, he brings his gaze back to Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes. As if the act of even looking at Cheng Xiaoshi’s lips were forbidden.

“No,” Cheng Xiaoshi leans forward until their noses brush. His eyes flutter half-shut. His breath ghosts along the curves of Lu Guang’s mouth. “It’s okay,” he answers. He reaffirms. He exalts. “We can do this. You can do this. Have me,” this is his desperate plea in return. “Take me.”

The way he slides his tongue into Lu Guang’s mouth is filthy. It’s careful. He runs his tongue along Lu Guang’s because he wants to know what that hitched breath from earlier tasted like. He moves his mouth against Lu Guang’s, fueled by the years of growing hunger for Lu Guang he can no longer deny.

Lu Guang squirms. He grips onto Cheng Xiaoshi’s wrist like it's a life line. He moans and God. God. Cheng Xiaoshi’s cock stirs and twitches. He presses himself closer to Lu Guang and keeps stroking his cheek in encouragement. Take this. Take this. Take me.

“Cheng Xiaoshi,” Lu Guang rasps when they part for breath. His lips are red and glistening with saliva. His pupils are blown wide and he looks like he’s about to run.

“Don’t go!” Cheng Xiaoshi yanks Lu Guang until they fall backwards. Lu Guang is on top of him, chest rising and falling rapidly, looking down at Cheng Xiaoshi like he doesn’t know what to do. “We can,” he says again. “I’m okay. This is okay. Please,” and he’s so-he’s so-he holds Lu Guang’s hips and jerks upwards, rubbing against Lu Guang’s equally hard length.

Lu Guang shivers above him. Drops his head low and pitches out a gunch-punched groan that makes Cheng Xiaoshi’s cock dribble with precum. He lifts his head and the hesitation in his eyes is gone. He’s looking at Cheng Xiaoshi like he’s finally allowing himself to take—thank God.

“You want this?” Lu Guang presses down and rolls his eyes. Cheng Xiaoshi moans. He leans his head back. The Adam apple in his neck bobs and his eyes flutter. Electric heat melts down his spine, makes his hips press up in response to Lu Guang’s grinding.

His fingers tighten on Lu Guang’s hips, “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah,” is punctuated by a needy thrusting of his hips. His cock feels so good and it’s just rubbing against Lu Guang’s. The front of his night pants are soiled from how hard he’s leaking. He’ll cum in his pants like this and he doesn’t even care. He whines as Lu Guang runs his hand under Cheng Xiaoshi’s shirt. His fingers ghost one of his nipples and he presses down on it with the pad of his thumb. Playing with it, teasing it, as he continues his sexual grind on Cheng Xiaoshi’s cock.

They grind like that for what seems like hours. Frantic and desperate. The sheets pull up and tangle around them. It’s summertime and it’s hot but the sweat pooling on Cheng Xiaoshi’s body and the prickles of heat under his skin he feels isn’t from the summer. He squeezes Lu Guang’s ass and bucks up once, twice.

Lu Guang moans and it’s the filthiest sound Cheng Xiaoshi has ever heard. Lu Guang on top of him, riding him through his clothes, it’s so hot. It’s so hot. He’s bathed in the moonlight, glowing and radiant, and his cock is leaking and pressed against his shorts. Cheng Xiaoshi bites his bottom lip and flips them over in a rush.

He wants his hands all over Lu Guang and he cannot stand it.

Lu Guang flounders a bit from the sudden shift in position. He looks at Cheng Xiaoshi and goes, “What? What are you-?” but he doesn’t finish his sentence because Cheng Xiaoshi slips his hand past the waistband of Lu Guang’s pants. His eyes roll and his hips buck as Cheng Xiaoshi grips his cock and strokes and strokes and strokes. “Ah. Ah, Xiaoshi-” He becomes a mess in Cheng Xiaoshi’s hands and yes.

Yes. Cheng Xiaoshi bites and bites and bites along Lu Guang’s neck. He wants to leave red marks that will bloom on Lu Guang’s porcelain neck and stay there for days. Maybe even for weeks if he keeps biting. He ruts against Lu Guang, pressing his clothed cock against Lu Guang’s backside. He holds Lu Guang by his hip, pulls him close.

He whispers in his ear, “I want to be inside you, if you let me. If you want. I want you to ride me until you see stars. Until you’re shaking and trembling over me. God, you looked so beautifully grinding against me earlier. In the moonlight, Lu Guang? Like even the moon wanted to see you that way—but I couldn’t stand it. No one else can see you like that but me. I want you so badly. So badly. However you’ll let me. Does this feel good?” He rubs his thumb over the head of Lu Guang’s cock. It’s slick and it’s sticky. God, he wants to taste it. He rubs and presses down and Lu Guang moans so loudly the sound reverberates in Cheng Xiaoshi’s rib cage.

Lu Guang’s neck is a messy red. He’s curling his fingers into the blankets. He’s pressing back against Cheng Xiaoshi and every press is another snap of Cheng Xiaoshi’s self control. Lu Guang rolls over, enough so that they can kiss. It’s a sloppy meeting. Their tongues slide over each other. Saliva dribbles down the side of their mouths. Lu Guang sucks on Cheng Xiaoshi’s tongue and it makes him jerk.

His cock pulses. “Shit,” he slides himself out of his pants. His red, throbbing cock springs out and he lifts Lu Guang’s thigh just enough so he can slide in. It’s hot and it’s tight and because he’s already so wet with pre-cum, he slides easily between Lu Guang’s thighs as he thrusts. He pants against Lu Guang’s neck, feeling heat in his stomach. He jerks and every gasp he makes has Lu Guang’s name interwoven in the pauses of his breath.

Lu Guang holds onto Cheng Xiaoshi’s hip, digging into the meat of his flesh. He groans Cheng Xiaoshi’s name and raises his hips to meet his strokes.

Cheng Xiaoshi pumps Lu Guang over and over and over. He fondles his balls and he squeezes at the base every so often, and that makes Lu Guang mewl and arch off the bed like a bowstring. When he jerks his shaft and squeezes his palm once he’s at the head of Lu Guang’s cock, Lu Guang chokes on his gasp and his hips stutter. He’s unraveling and it’s so beautiful. It’s so hot.

“I love you like this.” His confession carries those three words that they haven’t been able to say to one another yet. So he feels like he’s cheating when he delivers the message that way. But even saying them like that feels so good his cock twitches and his heart stutters.

Lu Guang’s eyes snap open. He catches those three words and their meaning, their intent, even if they’re delivered the cowards way. He swallows thickly and when he speaks, his voice is a wreck. “I… love you like this, too.” He turns his head and reaches up to stroke Cheng Xiaoshi’s flushed face. He smiles secretively, “I know you’re close.” He murmurs. He squeezes his thighs together and it rips a gasp out of Cheng Xiaoshi. “Let me feel you. I want to…”

Cheng Xiaoshi thrusts hard once between Lu Guang’s thighs and that’s enough. It’s too much. He’s overstimulated from the way Lu Guang quietly coaxes him to cum for him. His cock pulsates as white streaks of cum jut out from his cock, splattering onto the bed and coating Lu Guang’s thighs. Lu Guang hums like he’s so pleased with Cheng Xiaoshi for cumming as he did. He slides his tongue into Cheng Xiaoshi’s mouth and works him open. His tongue wraps itself around Cheng Xiaoshi’s. He sucks on Cheng Xiaoshi’s tongue and Cheng Xiaoshi keeps thrusting and thrusting as he cums because it feels so good. He feels so warm. His skin is flushed and covered in sweat but he’s in-between Lu Guang’s thighs being milked… being urged to finish… being held as he does.

He becomes boneless after his orgasm. He presses open mouth kisses to Lu Guang’s shoulder. He still has Lu Guang’s hard cock in his hands. He strokes him lazily at first. Enjoying the way his cock twitches in response. The way Lu Guang squirms against him, desperate.

“I’ll get you there,” he promises. He strokes Lu Guang from base to tip, keeping a strong and steady pace. As Lu Guang’s moans go from quiet to needy to please, please, I’m close. Please. Please. Please. Cheng Xiaoshi jerks him and jerks him as Lu Guang all but fucks into his fist and then, Lu Guang is cumming. His back arches. He leans back, head on Cheng Xiaoshi’s shoulder, the veins in his neck popping as he cums with Cheng Xiaoshi’s name dripping off his mouth like honey and wine.

Cheng Xiaoshi whispers, “So good. You look so good.” before he devours Lu Guang in another kiss.

Lu Guang spasms and twitches in his hold before he calms down, panting hot and heavy. He turns himself around and wraps his arms over Cheng Xiaoshi’s shoulders so they can kiss better. Their legs tangle and the stickiness of their orgasms press against their bare skin, but they don’t care. They kiss for what seems like hours. Time means nothing and time cannot defeat them when they’re like this, Cheng Xiaoshi thinks as he holds Lu Guang closer.

Cheng Xiaoshi nuzzles against Lu Guang’s neck. He hadn’t expected the night to end like this. But he’s not mad about it at all. He knows sex isn’t the end all be all. He knows tomorrow they could wake up and still be in this nebulous space of what are we — and does that matter? Lu Guang’s in his arms.

And it feels so right to have him there. He fits against the slope and curves of his body like he was made to be there. Their hands find one another. They link fingers and something just clicks. Even that, the mundanity of holding hands, feels so right. Feels normal and perfect.

“I don’t know why you’re scared of this,” Cheng Xiaoshi mutters. He’s pliant and feels like he’s floating on a Lu Guang-shaped cloud. He strokes his thumb along Lu Guang’s hip bone. “When this feels good. When this feels right.”

Lu Guang doesn’t say anything for a while. The moon hangs in the sky, full and bright. Its light covers them like a blanket. The crickets are a murmured angel’s choir. Their breaths, intimate and close, fill the gaps of silence. Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart drums nervously in his chest. What if Lu Guang pulls back? What if he says they went too far?

He can, of course. He can always set their limits. He can always say this is enough and Cheng Xiaoshi would swallow the poison of those words gulp by gulp no matter how much they’d sting. He’d do it because it was for Lu Guang. He’d do anything if it was for Lu Guang.

Lu Guang raises his palm and cups Cheng Xiaoshi’s face. He has such a tender gaze on his face. It’s a punch to the gut. “I can’t lose you, again.” He answers quietly. He searches Cheng Xiaoshi’s face and then he closes his eyes, takes a shuddering sigh. “If we do this, and I lose you-”

“You won’t,” Cheng Xiaoshi is firm with his promise. He grips Lu Guang’s hand and, in a mirrored gesture of the kiss that started it all tonight, he brings Lu Guang’s hand to his mouth and kisses his knuckles one by one. He keeps his eyes on Lu Guang the entire time.

Lu Guang swallows thickly. “Copycat,” he croaks. But then, the walls fall. And it’s like Lu Guang has made peace with whatever war he was fighting regarding them. He throws his leg over Cheng Xiaoshi’s hip and he buries his face into the crook of his neck. “Fine, you win.” He snuggles close. “I won’t run.”

Oh… Oh. Cheng Xiaoshi feels tears in his eyes (God, he was such a crybaby!) but there’s a light blooming in his chest. He holds Lu Guang close and peppers his face with kisses, which causes the other man to fuss and squirm. But Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t care because this is it. They’re really doing it this time. They’re … they’re becoming.

“Thank you, Lu Guang.” He says over and over again between every kiss he delivers.

Lu Guang snorts, “Don’t make me regret this,” but there’s no bite to his words. He says it so fondly, so carefully, that Cheng Xiaoshi wants to ravish him all over again.

“No promises,” he says with a cheeky smirk.

Afterwards, the two fall asleep in each other’s arms bathed in the moonlight.

Cheng Xiaoshi was looking forward to tomorrow—to the reality of waking up with the sun’s morning light on him and Lu Guang: together.

[twidash-ftw-blysse]

Master Post

Current Art (mostly LU unless otherwise stated):

Modern Time and Hyrule

LU as Disney Princesses

Malon dresses up a scarecrow

Fem Wild debates her purpose

Minish Four and Fairy Hyrule meet

Sky paying off his debts

Time misses Malon

Malon lets fem Wild wear her old dresses

"Greetings, Strange Traveler"

Mask meets a Korok

The Blood Moon

Time, but Ben Drowned

"You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?"

Strawberry Blond Legend

Vaati in a Bottle (and more)

Legend is a cat girl and Ravio says he a bunny

Art Trade with BlueDesk

More Link OCs

Jinx'd Four

The Colours as Mario Characters

Sally Face fanart

Legend with a Pearl Necklace

Four is Tiny (Panel Redraw)

Realism Hyrule

Time Doin a Funky lil dance

Art Trade with FourEyedNerd

The Heroes Curse:

My own Linkverse/Links Meet AU that is a WIP

Ambrosia and Fay

Ravio and Myth

Detroit Become Human Linked Universe AU:

All the Links are androids in the world of Detroit Become Human

Main Designs!

Hylia and First Designs

Ravio Design!

Legend watches the Prisoner

Wind takes Hyrule and Legend to Koholint

Legend shows off his Brass knuckles (CW weaponry)

Twilight does the Zoomies

Legend and Marin are Besties

Legend and Marin are Besties 2

By besties i mean lovers

Hyrule uses spoons to cher Legend up.

Animatics:

Legend Animatic | No Children

Ruby Rider | Linked Universe Cowboy Animatic

Peace and Love | Linked Universe Animatic

Fanfics:

Time is Losing His Shit and Malon is Confused

Old Art (Don't look at it):

Melody Duck (DuckTales OC)

Emo Melody and Webby (Ducktales)

Lena and Louie (Ducktales Edit)

Haldana and Everett (OCs)

Boyd (DuckTales)

Daisy and her Nieces (DuckTales Edit)

Inktober 1 (2019)

Inktober 2 (2019)

Inktober 3 (2019)

Dewey Redraw (DuckTales)

Melody as a human witch (Ducktales OC)

April, May, June (DuckTales Edit)

Donald Duck was cool... Once

First Time Drawing LU Boys (Linked Universe)

First and only drawing of the chain as a whole (Linked Universe)

Misc art (MLP, BNHA)

Deku's Birthday 2021! (BNHA)

I Found Peace In Your Violence (BNHA AU)

BNHA in the style of Star VS

Bakuiida (BNHA)

Jesus in LA Thumbnail (BNHA AU)

Deku has Osteoporosis (BNHA)

I aM hErE (BNHA, Villain Deku AU)

LUtober:

Game

Island

Ring (CW Weapon)

Zoom

Bond

Ablaze

Switch

Mask

Trinket

Sword

Glowing

Bottled

Contain

Tunnel

Hope+Spirit

Blind

[eponatheestallion]

some quick sketches of wild from my witch of the wilds au (you can find it here) at first i took inspiration for the mystic armor set for the colors but then i realized I liked the sheikah palette more :P

[wanderlustmagician]

Summary:

There’s several things important to a witch’s practice - their staff, their magic, their supplies. None are more important than their intention when crafting the spell. Magic and spell craft can be used for many things, from big ceremonies to mundane tasks.

None are more popular or as easy as hair braiding.

[ileniagennari]

Hey bestie! First time asker first time fan!

SO!

I have a mythical monster and creature question about Italy. See, I like making monsters and characters based on different Monsters and Mythology. (Ex: Wereanimals, Fairies, the Unicorn, Bigfoot/Sasquatch, Witches, Etc....) and sometimes, I will get inspired by characters/media that will make me design said creature (Susie from Summer Camp Island and James from Derry Girls for my Witches. Mean Girls for my Unicorn.) OTHER characters like that....

well THIS time. Because Tiktok has been showing me pics of Titanic and movie-related Titanic stuff. Then I got fixated on Danny Nuccis character of Fabrizio from the Movie. POINT is. I wanna make a character is more of a base italian character and go more in depth of italian culture and childhood (as I do for all of my characters). DO you have any refs or monsters/Mythology from Italy that is kinda like monsters and were-animals or creatures? And not like- ghosts from other real people or demons from hell and the underworld. Please and thanks!

YAYY questions about italian characters! Ok let me think... YES. But you have more choices. As you can see, Italy quite differs from north to south and both north and south had different influences. Northern regions were influenced by celtic, etruscan, ligurian and venetian folklore being homeland to many celtic tribes before (north Italy was called Cisalpine Gaul by romans) and lombard people (Germanic people from Scandinavia) after. South is instead very influenced by etruscan, roman, arabian and greek folklore! Sardinia aside being so isolated they actually have a super colorful and ancient folkloristic world. It's very hard to walk around demons, ghosts and so on, since christianity really changed our folklore for good, but I found something underneath:

Lupi Mannari

-We have a lot of werewolf stories in Italy, we call them Lupi Mannari. Two recent cases even in the legend: Pasquale Rossi, so called Werewolf from Villa Borghese. Or Iolanda Pascucci, called Wolf of Posillipo. The woman got married and they put her in a sanatorium. She ran away, hiding in Napoli, scared she might have passed the curse to her children.

-Very specific Werewolf from Basilicata:

Lu Lupi Minaro

Cursed to be transformed under a full moon, for being born on Christmas Eve, while the bells of Christmas were tolling. You can be cured if a brave man stings you and takes some blood drips from you.

L'Uomo Cervo (Gl'Cerv)

-From the ancient Etruscan and Celtic Folklore we have a Deer Man, L'Uomo Cervo (Gl'Cerv), from Castelnuovo al Volturno (Molise). Every year in this place they have a festival called DeerMan Carnival: a monstrous hybrid Deer-Man roams the city, hunting down people. But (as a symbol of rebirth and seasons changing) he gets defeated and dies. He will reborn the next year, he is the Winter and the Death, getting defeated so the season can change again and the new year come.

The influences are from Cernunnos, a god from celtic folklore, symbol of wild animals, natural force but also death and afterworld. Defeating the death you leave again space for new life, in Spring. (Maybe he's not literally a were-being but I think you can tiptoe around the concept. He is one and almighty tho, so I don't think you have MANY of these. It's like a god, a spirit, so you will have just one Were-Deer per sacrifice.)

-From Sardinia:

The Coga (or Bruxa)

Unaware people, born as Coga can transform into one at night. Imagine a mix between a witch and a vampire. Long hair, a little tail, long nails and a hairy cross on the back.

Even if you are born a male or a female, when a Coga you become an old ugly woman, which can transform herself into a dog, cat, snake or an insect. Revenge and anger feeling could bring people to actually become a Coga even if not born one, the wannabe Coga have to perform a ritual:

Must go to a graveyard and take away from a fresh c*rpse some body fat; mix it with virgin blood and holy oil. Then cover some body parts and the metamorphosis begins

Su Boe Erchitu

Instead of transform yourself into a wolf, you get transformed into a monstrous minotaur-thing, with two metallic horns and two candles on the tips. The only way to break the curse is to estinguish the two candles.

From Sicily:

Donas de fuera

Mostly women but not exclusive. Very beautiful, dressed in white, red or black. The feet can be cat-like, horse-like or strangely round feet. Roaming in groups, the man of the group plays liute or guitar while the others dance. Donas can transform into cats or Aydonos, an offensive version of themself, being able to kill. You don't offend a Dona. Do not disturb them or trick them to gain something. They can also transform into incorporeal mass.

Heavily inspired by nimphs and leprecauns from ancient greek, clearly, but with a nordic celtic influence. Very nice mixing.

This is everything I found so far, but keep in mind that Streghe, Masche, Bruxe, Janare etc etc can ALL transform into animals: cats, dogs, crows, owls, snakes. It's very common for witches to transform into animals. Hope I helped!

Sources:

[mossbed-roots]

LU has me by the throat again, I'm working on some drabbles right now to figure voices out but heres an au idea i NEED to get out regardless if i ever make fic/art for it

modern LU ghost hunter au inspired by the "Wind sees ghosts" tag ans the vibes of 111 Winchester

Most Links have had a brush with a "spirit world" in some way or another so i feel like this is a hobby that could bring them together. everyone brings something different to the table

Wind sees ghosts (duh), has pretty much all his life. So does Spirit cause they're like cousins or smth. Wind wants to do an investigation on a creepy old house with lots of reported activity (shit's like haunted haunted, almost no one has been able to go inside). He figures he needs a team on this one and puts out a call on a paranormal forum he frequents. you'll never guess who responds

Four is haunted by the Colors as spirits that have attached themselves to him. They are relatively harmless, though they're kinda stuck to his soul and no one's sure how to feel about this. As far as he knows he's the only one who can see or hear them. they can posses Four one at a time but he really does not like suddenly not existing in his own body. Four's not much of a ghost hunter but he does know plenty about using metals and tools to dispatch evil spirits. He's in this mostly for answers about his own haunting

Legend and Hyrule are long-distance friends and the only ones to know each other before the investigation. Magic exists in this setting, but is not widely practiced, and Hyrule is VERY well-versed in magic (im calling magic practitioners "witches". Wild is one too) Rulie's very sensitive to dark and light energies, and has honed sigil and casting skills. Legend is on the more physical side of things, wielding artifacts and cursed objects from his large collection of...stuff. He's been cursed more than a few times himself. Legend also supplies some goofy ghost hunt equipment, but Twi has most of that covered

Twilight can step into the spirit world with Midna's help, where his spirit often takes the form of a wolf to protect him. He's got a sense for dark energies and can directly confront these malevolent creatures where others might have trouble perceiving them. Aside from that hes the camera guy. He brings the flashlights, the recorders, any equipment he can carry.

Wild is their Guy In The Chair bc he insists they need someone on the outside. I've decided his presence determines whether they get the Good or Bad ending

so turns out this place is like BAD haunted and oh no! Once the boys go in they can't find a way out

the house is a nexus, drawing in as many souls as it can and just feeding on them. There's also probably demons too but like the place itself is imbued with bad evil energy. Time and Wars are here but they are ghosts, drawn in and trapped for longer than they can remember. They are pretty much the only friendly ones here

Twilight finds Sky trapped in the Spirit World side of the house. think like he entered a Silent Realm and couldn't get out. Twi is able to pull him out bc of his weird dark world shit (on the outside Sky has been a missing person for months)

That's uh enough for now I think. enough of an outline for me to come back to. i am very normal about this fledgling idea

[always-a-king-or-queen]

until the stars rain down ch. 1

AU Masterpost | AU requests are open!!

Perfect. 

Footprints trailing in the sand, and stars clustered overhead with silver glory, and the crash of waves on the beach, and everything was perfect. 

Breathless laughter spilled from Lucy’s lungs as she danced in a wild circle with the Narnians, her bare feet sliding in the damp sand of the beach outside Cair Paravel, the curls in her hair coming undone in the salty breeze. Her skirts twirled around her as she whirled and leapt and spun and–

“Oh!” Lucy lost her footing, dizzy from spinning in a circle, and fell crashing to the sand, but the Narnians just laughed good-humoredly and crowded around to help her up with eager hands and kind faces. “You all right, Lu?” Peter shouted over the din, cup of punch sloshing in one hand and crown askew on his sandy hair, and Lucy laughed and nodded as a centaur helped her to her feet. 

“I’m simply marvelous,” she called back, a wide, gap-toothed grin beaming over her face because of how true her statement was. She spread her arms wide and tipped her head back and resumed spinning, skirts flying around her legs, the melody of the surf intermingling with the music in her ears. 

It had only been a few hours since the post-coronation festivities began, which Susan and Peter had initially thought should be held indoors, but Lucy had begged them to move the food and drinks outside because it would be so much more thrilling to celebrate outdoors in Aslan’s creation. To her great excitement they had agreed, and now they and practically all of Narnia were gathered here, dancing wildly on the beach, giddy from the ample food and desserts and cups of punch, the starlight filling their very veins with joy. 

“This,” Mr. Tumnus had told Lucy, after some beavers and woodchucks built a roaring fire and several of the Narnians produced an instrument and began to play a rowdy tune, “this is what Narnia really is. This is what the witch took from us for a century. But you, my dear Pevensie, have helped us to win it back.” 

“It was all Aslan’s doing, really,” Lucy had informed him, bright smile dimming just a little as she glanced down the beach where the great lion had disappeared. “We just helped, that's all.” 

“Well, Narnia is indebted to you regardless,” the faun had answered blithely, before seizing the youngest Pevensie’s hand and teaching her how to do a traditional Narnian jig, and Lucy had scarcely stopped dancing ever since, so overwhelmed with excitement and happiness and love for the Narnians around her. 

When the latest jig ended she tumbled to a seat in the sand, away from the tramping feet and whooping Narnians, and gratefully accepted the cup of punch Susan offered her. “Having fun?” her sister questioned, eyes bright and lips curved in a knowing smile, and Lucy could only manage a breathless nod as she sipped at her drink to cool down. 

“You should join in the dancing, Susan, you’d love it!” Lucy implored after she had regained her breath, casting a pleading look at her sister. “It’s not hard, you just–” 

“–you just spin around till you get dizzy and fall down?” teased Peter, appearing through the throng and grinning down at Lucy, who beamed at him in reply. 

“Yes! Exactly! Well, some of the jigs Mr. Tumnus taught me are a bit more complicated, but for the most part Narnian dancing is free. No silly rules like we have back in England!” Lucy giggled, taking another drink of punch and tilting her head back to look up at the stars. 

“Well…” Susan bit her lip, head tilting in mock thought. “I suppose if my expert dancer of a sister would show me how, I might want to try a few dances.” 

“Really?” Lucy gasped, setting her cup aside and leaping to her feet in excitement. She grabbed Susan’s hand and dragged her forward into the ring of dancers, eliciting a yelp from her sister. “Come on!” Lucy cried, seizing Susan’s other hand and dancing wild, joyous, carefree. Susan grinned, unable to resist the joy radiating from her little sister, and gave in, swinging their clasped hands, twirling Lucy around and around and around, her grin growing wider as they danced with reckless abandon in the starlight.  

“I told you you would love this,” Lucy said merrily, and Susan let herself laugh, really laugh, not the prim little chuckles she had been told to do in school. This was a laugh from deep within her soul, and it bubbled out of her like magic, filling the air with joy. 

“You were right, Lu,” Susan shouted exuberantly, letting Lucy’s hands fall and lifting her own to the sky before she began spinning around and around, raven hair flying loose, eyes closed as she lifted her face to the heavens. “This is just– amazing.” 

Lucy giggled, curls flying further out of place, crown sitting crooked on her head as two centaurs lifted her on their shoulders and swung her around, their laughter mingling with her own as air whipped past her face. “Get Susan next,” she whispered once they put her down, pointing to her blissfully unaware sister. The centaur’s eyes sparkled with merriment as they crept towards Susan, who shrieked as if she was being murdered when they unexpectedly whirled her into the air, but then laughed with wild joy after a moment, letting herself enjoy it as they spun her around. 

“Lucy, dear,” a voice said behind her, and Lucy turned to see Mrs. Beaver standing there, looking rather shy. “Where’s that brother of yours? King Edmund? A few of us are wondering– well, I’d just like to give him a big hug, I haven’t gotten to yet– and Phillip wants to have a chat with him too, and– well, most of us are worried. We haven’t seen him for an hour or two.” 

That was news to Lucy– she had been so caught up with dancing that she hadn’t even noticed Edmund wasn’t there. She turned to look for Peter, thinking maybe Edmund would be nearby. Peter was standing at the edge of the circle, firelight playing over his face as he swayed lightly to the music when he thought no one was looking, but Edmund was nowhere in sight. Lucy’s brow furrowed, the smile slipping off of her face. Where could he have gone?

“I’ll go look for him, don’t worry,” she assured Mrs. Beaver, weaving through the crowd and halting by Peter, who jolted guiltily and tried to act as if he hadn’t been dancing along to the music. “I’m going to go look for Ed,” Lucy told him, then hitched her skirts higher and began running up the dunes towards Cair Paravel, where the banners snapped atop the castle spires in the breeze and the moonlight fell across the stone walls like silver. Lucy drew a breath looking up at it, scarcely able to believe that this was their home now, that– that they would be reigning over a country. 

She pushed open the door to the throne room and ducked inside. “Edmund?” she called, slightly breathless from her run to the castle, hair frizzing around her face as she scanned the dark room. There– a small figure, sitting in a chair against a nearby wall. Lucy ran towards it, half-tripping over her skirts as she skidded to a halt. 

“Edmund, why are you in here by yourself?” Lucy grabbed her brother’s hand, peering into his face. “ Everyone’s wondering where you are! Phillip wants to talk to you, and so do a lot of other people! Er, creatures, I should say. Mrs. Beaver wants to give you a big hug; she says she hasn’t gotten the chance yet.” She paused, startled to see tears welling in her brother’s eyes. “Why, Edmund, what’s wrong?”

She was starting to worry that maybe she or someone else had done something to upset him, but then the young king laughed, a sound full of warmth and joy as he wiped at his eyes with one sleeve. 

“It’s nice to be kind, Lucy,” he murmured, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. “It’s nice to be loved.” 

Lucy tilted her head, nose wrinkling slightly. “Of course it is, Ed. You always have been.” 

“No,” he contradicted gently. “Maybe I’ve always been loved, but I haven’t always been kind.” He didn’t say anything else for a moment, head drooping, but then he gave Lucy’s hand a firm squeeze and added softly, “But that’s all in the past now, isn’t it?” 

Lucy nodded, grinning at him encouragingly. “Yes, Ed. It is. You’re worthy. Don’t doubt yourself.” 

Edmund got to his feet, a smile crossing his face as he looked down at his little sister. “I’m not doubting myself. Not anymore.” 

Lucy didn’t know quite what that meant, but she recognized something in his face– joy. Gratitude. Reconciliation. She smiled, bumping her head against his arm before taking his hand in hers again. “Come on, then. Everyone’s looking for you, like I said! We’re having a ton of fun out there; it’ll be so much better now that you’ll be there. Maybe Mr. Tumnus and I can teach you a Narnian jig; they’re a lot of fun!” 

Still talking excitedly, she half-dragged Edmund out of the throne room and into the night air, pulling him down across the dunes. Edmund giggled as she talked, a laugh she hadn’t heard come from him in– well, forever, his head tipped back to watch the stars as they walked. 

“Thank you, Lu,” he said fondly as they reached the bottom of the dunes, ruffling Lucy’s hair with his free hand, then added with a grin, “I believe you’ll have to teach me those Narnian jigs after all, hmm?” 

Lucy beamed up at him, swinging their clasped hands before looking towards the crowd of Narnians and announcing loudly, “I found Ed!” 

Edmund looked embarrassed as several dozen faces turned to stare at him, but he was clearly astonished by the joy that crossed those same faces before a veritable swarm of Narnians stampeded him, surrounding him with light and love and hugs and laughter. Susan and Peter managed to wriggle their way to the center of the bunch, throwing their arms around Edmund and Lucy, adding to the love that seemed to shape Narnia’s very being. 

And hours later, when everyone had finally settled in to sleep on the beach– they could deal with sandy hair and clothes in the morning– Lucy rolled onto her back by the fire, which was no more than embers now, and stared up at the stars. Soft snores emanated from various areas around their makeshift camp, and she felt a grin crack her face as she let her eyes fall shut. 

Thank you, Aslan. For everything. 

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. 

[popjunkie42]

The Thief and the Rake

Summary:

“Elain, none of us have a dowry. And the Archeron name, if anyone even remembers it, isn’t about to inspire anyone. You either have to find someone so rich they wouldn’t even concern themselves with a dowry, or someone with money who needs a gentleman’s name to get into society.”   Elain was quiet for a moment. “Or we could marry for love. Someone wouldn’t need a dowry for that.”   The fire crackled in the silence.   “Yes.” Nesta said, clipped. “Or for love.”   Forgotten by all good society, the Archerons receive a surprise invitation from a distant relative that gives the sisters a chance for one single season in London. One single season to lie, preen and attract a rich enough suitor to marry Miss Elain and pull them out of poverty for good. It's a lucky thing Feyre Archeron has perfected the skills of lifting the burden of extra wealth from those too laden to notice a few coins skimmed off the top. Unfortunately for her, the Viscount Rhysand Sterling catches her in the act...and then insists on hiring her for her services. Can the Archeron sisters make it through a London season alive and with their reputations intact?

The Thief and the Rake - Chapter One on AO3

Rated E

Thank you to @witch-and-her-witcher and @wilde-knight for beta-ing and supporting me always!!!

A snippet under the cut!

The winter wood was still and quiet. Mist and fog parted in the wake of Feyre Archeron’s footsteps as she stepped with sly feet around roots and rocks, flexing her fingers to stay warm.

The sun had just started to rise, watery and pale. Feyre knew it wouldn’t be enough to cut into the chill that had already seeped into her bones. And that nothing but a small fire in the kitchen would be waiting for her on her return. 

This winter had been especially wet. The deer were bedding down in secret corners, their scents and steps muffled by the wet leaves carpeting the forest floor. Hiding from her arrows and her empty table.

Feyre had already paid a visit to two local manors that were left empty by the wintering gentry families, scraping what she could from larders and unlocked rooms that wouldn’t be easily noticed. 

But last of the deer jerky had run out yesterday, and she had black tea and a hard tack biscuit for breakfast that hadn’t even satiated her long enough to get out the door without hunger pangs. 

If she didn’t find something today - well. No use thinking on it now, miles deep into a sparse winter forest. Feyre knew better than to let her desperate thoughts wander when she was all alone, and needed to focus. 

A whisper. Mist swirled out of the corner of her eye.

Feyre inhaled as she twisted, an arrow quickly in her hand and nocked to the string of her bow. Quick enough to see a fluffy brown-red tail disappear through the trees and over a small hill. 

The fox trotted away from her and she followed, hiding behind trees as she went, careful to step onto the soft wet leaves littering the forest floor. 

He was a handsome creature, his coat dark sable flecked with the old warm red of summer. 

It was a shame to take him, she thought as he rose above the fog line onto a moss-covered rock, surveying the land in front of him with his nose tilted up to the wind. There wasn’t ever much meat on them, not that she could be picky. But his pelt would fetch something small at market. Enough to risk an arrow. 

At least she and her family would have one more meal, enough to buy a few hours, a day to keep her going to the next fox, or rabbit, or God willing a deer…

Feyre nocked her arrow and pulled back the bowstring across her hollow cheek.

The crack of a twig to her left had the fox curling into fog and mist, and Feyre whirled around, heart racing, bow still nocked to fire.

”Lu!”

Lucien Vanserra’s eye went wide and his hands shot up as he stared down the length of her arrow. His familiar face, one russet eye, one scarred and covered in a small woven patch. Feyre didn’t move an inch. 

Slowly, a mischievous grin spread over his face.

She huffed and put down her bow.

”You just cost me lunch and ten shillings for a fox hide. I hope you’re ready to pay up.”

Unlike Feyre, her friend was dressed for the weather, a well-cut wool coat in hunter green hugging his form and skimming down to his knees, with heavy weather-stained boots coming to meet them. He had a low brown felt top hat that complimented his glistening auburn hair. 

Lucien looked made for the forest, and if she didn’t know him she’d think he was a sprite come to lead her to some sort of mystical adventure. With his vibrant red hair pulled back into a low plait, and his golden skin radiating warmth in between the barren branches, he seemed a creature from her old maid’s tales.

He pulled a basket from behind him, offering it to her with a flourish. “Aunt Susan and the cousins left for a few weeks to visit Uncle Tomas in Bath. I think I can do you all better than ten shillings and invite you to dinner.”

As if on queue, her stomach rumbled. Feyre tried and failed to keep the small smile from her face.

“Got anything for breakfast first?”

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