undertheopensky

[undertheopensky]

Hiiiiii! Wanted to pop in and say sorry for the spam 😭

Missed you lotssssss!!!!

I don’t mind the spam at all :)

Missed you too friend!!!

[undertheopensky]

I'm not much of a fan of realistic style…, but here's some silly sketch🫣 I'm excited about the Zelda movie tbh!

[undertheopensky]

‘It’s just a cold’?

That one doesn't have a title yet so it's just referred to by the first line lol -

“Four, your nose -” “I know,” he grumbles, wiping it with the back of his wrist.. “Four you’re bleeding!” Four jolts and opens his eyes, glancing over himself wildly and catching on the red smear on his hand. He touches the space under his nose - wet with blood - and blinks at his bloody fingertips. “That’s probably not good.” “Wars!” Wind shrieks. Wars comes over, rolling his eyes, only to sharpen when he sees the blood. “Nosebleed? Lemme take a look. Where’s your handkerchief? Have you been rubbing too hard?” “I’ve been trying not to fucking touch it because it hurts!” Four snarls. He flinches and tries to jerk away when Wars wipes his face. “That hurts Wars!” Warriors lets him go. There’s no real damage - just a slow trickle of blood from the thin membranes. “It’s fine. Don’t rub it so hard, just blow gently and dab, don’t wipe.” Four’s glare is poisonous.

[undertheopensky]

I love you so much I hope we get reborn as housecats who sleep together like puzzle pieces

[undertheopensky]

Happy Pride, have some angsty art of Four and Shadow ~

So I decided I wanted to draw Four and Shadow for Pride because, hey, I love these gay boys — but when it came to deciding WHAT I wanted to draw, I had a little more trouble. Instead of doing a classic “Pride post,” I wanted to tell a story. I’ve been spending a lot of time recently with Four and Shadow in Guiding Lights and so I felt like it made sense to draw that version of them (even though it felt a little self-indulgent). I didn’t want to illustrate a particular scene, but instead capture the emotions of the characters symbolically. So, uh, this is what I ended up with!

[Spoilers for chapters 1-17 of Guiding Lights below the cut]

Four was not meant to take over the narrative the way he did. Neither was Shadow. Both characters managed to insert themselves into my outline and demand a larger chunk of the story for themselves. I accept this as “the way writing goes.”

I mention in the fic tags that the soulbonds that unite the Chain are entirely platonic, and this is important to keep in mind with Four and Shadow, who are bonded but who additionally have a non-platonic relationship. It is also important to remember that the soulbonds “activate” the moment a pair of Links get close enough to each other, physically or emotionally (and depending on each Link’s sensitivity to the bond). This means something very important for Four and Shadow’s relationship, which some of you may have already figured out but I’ll lay it out plainly here: The Colors were already soulbound to Shadow when Shadow destroyed the Dark Mirror.

Imagine what that felt like for a moment.

Imagine what Link went through, immediately after his adventure — not only losing his friend, Vio’s partner, but losing his soulmate. And at the same time, rejoining for the first time — going from being Link to being the Colors to being Four — and all that that entailed. (We’ll learn more about what that entailed later in our story.) And the choice, the sacrifice, was made by Shadow and Shadow alone.

Four is no stranger to grief… nor to anger.

And then, quite by accident, Shadow was revived. And Four had to adjust his worldview yet again, now to include the person he was sure he’d lost forever.

But Shadow was the same person as the day he’d died, and Four… wasn’t, anymore.

Fast forward to the “present” day.

Shadow desperately wants to use his powers to rejoin his partner — to save him — but practicality prevents him from doing so. He’s not just worried for Four, he’s scared. And he’s also scared for the other Links, and though he’d be embarrassed to admit it, scared for himself. What happens to Shadow if Four is seriously hurt? What if he dies? Guilt of several kinds bites at Shadow at every moment. He feels angry at his enemies, but also angry at himself for not being able to do more — and even though he knows it’s unfair, he’s angry at the Chain for being slow, angry at Wild for not taking a bigger risk and transporting them with the Slate, and angry at the world for just being sucky. And, selfishly, he misses Four. He’s sad.

Meanwhile, Four is going through his own ordeal. He has no way of knowing where the others are or even if they’re coming to save him. Half of him wants to have faith in his partner and brothers; the other half wants to focus on right now and on saving himself. And there’s a little bit of anger on his part, too — of course the others did the best they could, of course they did… and yet. Four is scared, injured, and lonely, and he can’t afford to be any of those things if he’s going to survive and escape.

But despite all the pain they’ve been through, what unites these two — what unites all the Links — is love. They take strength from each other no matter the distance between them, secure in their love for each other. Nothing can destroy that love, not even death. They’ve already proven that.

During Pride month, it’s great to see examples of queer joy — it’s important to see that! But I think it’s also important to see queer sadness, anger, fear — the full range of human emotions, because queer people and queer relationships contain the same kinds of pleasure AND pain as non-queer ones do. So I don’t feel bad about drawing my poor stressed-out boys during Pride month, and I promise I’ll do happier art of them at a later time. ***

Technically speaking, this piece went great. I’m especially pleased with how the colored pencils came out. My white ink was very dry but it rehydrated well!

8 x 11. Alcohol markers, colored pencils, micron pens, and white ink. Digital background.

[IMG: An illustration of Four from Linked Universe and Shadow (Four Swords manga with a Linked Universe-based design). Four is walking away to the left, visible from the knees up. Shadow is floating behind Four and reaching out for him. Shadow is surrounded by a dark, fiery aura, which flames out behind him. Four is reaching back over his shoulder and their fingers are intertwined. Four is wearing a patchwork tunic, black pants, and black gloves over a light gray shirt. He has blonde hair, pale skin and multicolored eyes. Shadow is wearing a black tunic, white pants, and black gloves over a light gray shirt. He has black hair, paler skin than Four, and red eyes. His feet melt away into dark flames. The “flames” surrounding him are various shades of purple. The background is a textured dark gray-blue. The drawing has black ink lineart and is colored with markers and colored pencils.] *** UPDATE: I made additional posts about the process of drawing this illustration, check them out here!

Process photos Inking timelapse

[undertheopensky]

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.  Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it!  And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Tagged by @not-freyja who is now on my shit list, because:

Sing Us Home

stay put don’t follow

Horse fic

Ace Four

Four meets the Chain.  It goes about as badly as is physically possible.

Pieces of Heart

Into The Shadows

Wolfie AU

Legend oneshot (fuck I need to finish this)

Dark au au

Dark au au au

MORE dark au, vidow edition

Miscommunication au pretending to be a dark au

Miscommunication miniau (that seems to be growing legs O.O)

Timeshare fic

this dollhouse is not our home

Modern au

Multiverse Four

Multiverse Rainbow

Tale of the Shadow

Negative Space

Wings AU body horror

Sword Spirit Four 1

Sword Spirit Four 2

Four elements fic

Time travel, minish cap edition

It’s just a cold

hearts beyond help

Moorhaunt followup

Become Like Stone followup

Portals followup

Under the Weather followup

Wildlife followup

Ocarina followup

Sleeping with the gravestones followup

Four avoiding being healed by Hyrule

Little Shadows

MMO

March fluff prompts horrorfic

Study in Violet

Study in Grey

Study in Red – Wishes

Study in Red – Scarlet

Study in Red – Crimson

Study in Red – Vermilion

Study in Green

Study in White

Study in Blue

Study in Black

Thursday’s Child

Green/Blue modern AU

Brainwashing au

Reciprocal

Best Intentions

Possession fic

Vampire fic

Kinstones

9 different smutfics that are too explicit to list here –

fuck make that 10

Febuwhump 2024 – days 2, 3, 4, 7, 16, 17, 23

Whumptober 2024 – days 7, 12, 30

i will follow you into the dark

June of Doom 2025

Unmaking a Legend

Wild AU

I DIDN'T EVEN BOTHER TO PROPERLY LIST OUT THE CHALLENGE MONTH FICS AND THERE'S 65 OF THESE THINGS. I DON'T EVEN KNOW 65 PEOPLE, LET ALONE 65 PEOPLE WHO WRITE.

and you already tagged everyone you dick

Instead of wasting time trying to find new people to tag I'm no-pressure tagging @not-freyja, @gia-d, @kilgoreontralfamadore, @toyouhellohowareyou, and @weavingstarlight just to be annoying and then going off to actually WORK on some of these

[undertheopensky]

Open Air

The first time Link slept in Faron Woods, he kept jerking awake, panting, feeling the weight of the canopy pressing down on him, threatening to collapse and smother him in wood and leaves.

There’s nothing like it on Skyloft. Never more than a thin roof between himself and the open sky; never so closed in as to not be able to see the horizon. Loftwings have to be able to get around, after all, and they’re so much larger than their riders - so doorframes are broad and windows are wide and many of them sport thin fabric coverings most of the time with shutters only for the worst of the weather, and they’re always open. Open air never more than an armslength away.

The forest is stifling.

It’s fine, he tells himself as he tries to settle back to sleep yet again. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.

The volcano is worse; how can the air be so hot when he’s so cold inside, when the sky is a thousand feet of rock away and he hasn’t seen his loftwing in days -?

He’s cold. And shaky, and tired, and there’s no quick way out of the tunnels for a breather, and if he stops he’ll be here even longer, so - Link grits his teeth and pushes on.

And the water -

Pushing down on him -

Drowning him -

Pressing in from all sides, choking weight even though he can breathe, dragging at his limbs and winding around his chest in a strangling grip he’s never been so deep he can’t see the sun all there is is dark and heavy and crushing -

He drags himself out of the water. Coughing even though his lungs are clear of liquid. Gasping and wheezing and shaking.

But he can’t rest, can’t wait, there are monsters coming he can hear them and there’s still so much left he do -

He stands on trembling legs and draws his sword.

That’s how it goes. Link pushes through, even when the world is closing in on him and he can barely breathe through the crush. He keeps fighting even as his vision greys out at the edges. Some days, even his blanket is too much. The heaviness on top of him, pinning him down, holding his arms against his sides -

He has more than one cold night, down on the Surface.

But he didn’t think too hard on it. He had bigger problems, namely finding Zelda, dealing with Ghirahim, fulfilling all the damn requirements demanded of him so he can keep going. It was just something to be avoided, when he could, and endured, when he couldn’t. No one but Fi ever saw the tears on his face or his shaking hands.

And after -

It’s better, in some ways. Worse in others.

He doesn’t have the same drive forcing him onwards. Making him grit his teeth and struggle through the heaviness the shakiness (the fear). He doesn’t have to for so much of it, and so he doesn’t - sticking to the most open areas and exulting in the clean open sky with his loftwing.

But sometimes - sometimes it sneaks up on him.

Zelda never pushed when he woke up trembling with nightmares. When even the weight of his own blanket is too much and he sleeps with only the curl of his body against the cold. Which is good, because he doesn’t even have the words for the itching, aching cold that comes over him when he realises he can’t reach out and touch the sky, but he wishes -

He doesn’t know what he wishes.

It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s over.

———

It’s not over. Of course it’s not.

Dark omens, dark portals, dark-blooded monsters; eight pairs of eyes reflecting lightning back at him.

“Hi! I’m Link!”

He doesn’t mind the new name. Needs must, after all, and it’s not like he isn’t used to being called by a nickname.

“Master, this course of action has a forty percent chance of success. Perhaps an alternative should be considered for a better outcome?”

Sky smiles to himself. Small and fond. He misses her, misses her like a phantom limb, and at the same time can feel her presence sleeping in the sword. Quiet and sparkling like sunlight through a misty grove. And without this new quest hunting down monsters across time, he wouldn’t have that.

“Hey Sky! Come tell this idiot how wrong he is!”

And he wouldn’t have this, either. Eight brothers who stand at his back, as trusted in battle as outside of it.

“Pumpkin is terrible and you cannot convince me otherwise,” Four insists.

Wind and Wild both gasp theatrically. “Sky help!” Wind cries.

With a chuckle, Sky pulls himself from his thoughts and heads over to settle the argument. Or maybe just incite more chaos; he’s not sure yet.

It’s fun.

Sky never expected to find it fun. Maybe he doesn’t have Fi anymore, not the same way, but - he’s not alone, either.

———

It’s cold up in Skyloft. Sky never knew any different before he made it to the surface and discovered the suffocating heat of the volcano, the humidity in the forest so thick you could barely breathe, the strange warmth gathered at the lake; all he’d ever known was Skyloft’s high winds and thin air and the ever-pervasive chill.

Snow is something altogether different.

It’s cold beyond anything he’s felt before, and it’s also wet, sinking into his hair and crawling down the back of his tunic, blown into his face by the icy wind, spilling into his boots when he stumbles into a snowdrift. And he does stumble, many times. What Twilight calls a blizzard has snow flying thick and heavy in the air and he can barely see the next person in front of him.

“In here, in here, c’mon -” Twilight waves them on through a snowshadow that turns out to be the narrow mouth of a cave. And the way the wind drops off is sheer relief, but -

Sky sucks in a breath. Holds it a moment, then lets it go.

The cave isn’t big, only opens to the size of a loftwing’s stable, and it’s dark. The walls glitter in the light of hurriedly-lit lanterns. When Sky draws close, the chill emanating off them penetrates his cloak and gloves.

Ice. Thick and solid and heavy, all around them.

He bites back a shiver.

It’s fine, Sky tells himself. He turns to face the way they’d come. See? You can still see outside. You can still get out easily.

The storm fills the entryway with blustering, blinding white.

Sky is jolted from his attempt to slow his racing heart by Twilight brushing past. “Don’ touch th’ walls,” he says. “An’ don’ sit on th’ bare floor. It’ll suck th’ heat right outta ya.”

He pulls off the wolfskin pelt he always wears and lays it out on the floor. “Butts on the pelt, feet on the floor, backs together,” he continues, all business. “If ya got anything blanketlike now’s the time to pull it out. We’ll be here a while.”

Distantly, Sky pulls off his sailcloth. There’s not enough space for all of them on the wolfskin. Is his sailcloth thick enough to cut the chill from the stone? It blocks the wind well enough but it’s not dense like Twilight’s furs -

He’s caught by surprise when Legend shoves him down on the pelt and then unselfconsciously crawls into his lap. “What? Legend - what?” His thoughts are sluggish - it takes him a solid five seconds to realise Legend’s huddling into him because he’s freezing. The bare skin of his legs is waxy pale and cold to the touch. “Legend, you - you’re so cold -” Clumsily Sky wraps his cloak around the both of them.

The others get themselves situated. Time takes off his plate armour and stows it in Wild’s Slate, then pulls a shivering Four close. Wind gets bundled up with Warriors and Warriors’ scarf. Hyrule tucks in beside Twilight, and Wild pulls out every scrap of fabric and clothing that could possibly retain warmth.

At Sky’s back and sides other bodies press close, radiating weak but welcome heat. Legend’s form lays heavy over his legs. Everywhere they touch prickles and burns, makes the chill air that much more stifling, makes the walls seem that much heavier.

Sky’s hands shake.

It’s not from the cold.

Look at the sky, he tells himself. Just watch the sky. You’re fine. Everything is fine.

Nothing is visible outside except the swirling snow.

Sky deliberately relaxes his jaw. It’s fine. The sky is still there.

But you don’t have a loftwing, says an insidious little voice from inside him. Your loftwing is thousands of years away. You can’t fly. You can’t get back to the sky from here. You’re trapped on the surface, and if you never make it home, you’ll be trapped here forever.

It’s fine.

Legend shifts. “Sky, man, are you okay? You’re shaking.”

Sky opens his mouth to reassure him and nothing comes out but a strangled gasp.

“Shit. Am I too heavy, you should have said something -”

“I think he’s panicking,” says Wild.

“Aw shit -”

“M’fine,” he finally manages to choke out as Legend scrambles off him. “‘Ll be fine. Just gotta ride it out.”

“Ride what out, Sky?” Time lays a hand on his shoulder.

Sky wishes he wouldn’t. It’s already hard enough to think with them all crowded close, with the air weighing him down. His eyes dart to the entrance again - still shrouded in snow.

“Sky.” Four has climbed up far enough to look over Time’s shoulder. “Sky, is it - the cave? The cave is too small?”

Hearing it out loud makes all the air rush out of him like he’d been punched. “I can’t,” he chokes out, “it’s fine. It’s fine. We can’t - do anything about it - just gotta get through it. Don’t worry bout me. It’s fine.” He’s gotten through this before. He just needs to - to breathe, and keep his eyes on the sky, and everything will be fine.

“There’s gotta be something we can do,” says Wind.

“Well I’m immediately vetoing Wild making the cave bigger with bombs,” says Legend, in the strained way he does when he’s trying to make a joke under stress.

“Sky?” Time rocks him by the grip on his shoulder and it stings where his hand makes contact. “What can we do to help? Make it even a little easier to bear, while we’re waiting out the storm?”

Sky hesitates. He’s never really… thought about it in any real detail. Actively tries not to, in fact, avoiding the sick and shaky feeling that even considering it [triggers, brings up]. What was the point? It was just something to be avoided, when he could, and endured, when he couldn’t. It’s always been his problem to deal with.

“Sky?” Wars prompts.

…but… they’re asking. What harm would it do to try?

“Just - don’t press so close? And - I need to see the sky.”

“I think we can do that,” says Time, and they start to shift positions, so that Sky is closest to the cave mouth.

There’s not much space to be had. Even after shuffling to give him room their knees still brush, and occasionally Time’s back makes contact with his shoulder when he shifts Four’s weight on his lap. But - Sky thinks guiltily - without Legend pinning him down, without them all pressed so close his skin stings, with enough air moving around him that he thinks he can maybe breathe - it’s easier. It’s not better. Just easier, to take one breath, and another, and not feel quite so much like he’ll fall through the earth never to emerge, or be crushed by the weight of the air.

Legend tells a joke that has Warriors snorting into his scarf. Gently, Twilight works his fingers underneath the hand Sky left deliberately open on his knee, and Sky - doesn’t pull away. Closes his fingers around Twilight’s in return, and holds on, staring out into the storm.

Everything will be fine.

For the first time, in the moment, he thinks he can believe it.

[undertheopensky]

Depth Perception

“Ow! Fuck!”

“I never knew you had such a foul mouth,” says Wind’s voice, muffled by the wall.

“You’re not around me when I’m in the forge,” Four grumbles. More carefully this time, he ducks low enough to avoid the hanging rock in the ceiling that usually he could have walked right under. “Goddesses. How does Time deal with this?”

“Better than you!”

“You’re no better.” Four finally makes it over to him and kicks him - lightly! - in the hip. It’s not Twilight’s fault, after all, and it’s him who’ll have to deal with the bruises.

Presumably. Assuming that they have, indeed, swapped bodies, and not been transformed into reflections of each other. It’s a little hard to tell right now.

“Oh come on! I was sure I would fit!”

“You’d fit if you were your normal size! Twilight is a lot broader than you are, it’s no wonder you got stuck in that hole!”

“There isn’t even anything good in here,” Wind sulks, as Four wraps Time’s gauntleted hands around Twilight’s ankles and starts to pull him free.

“I thought you said you thought you could see a way out? Through an entirely-too-small crawlspace that I told you you were going to get stuck in?”

“Yeah well, I was wrong. Dead end.” Wind clambers to his feet and dusts himself off, remorseless. “C’mon, let’s keep going. We still gotta find the others!”

Four sighs and follows as Wind bounces off down the tunnel, narrowly avoiding running into the wall on Time’s blind side. He will be so happy when they figure out how to fix this.

[undertheopensky]

Picking Up the Pieces

After it all, Link’s not sure what to do with the second sword.

It doesn’t feel right to use it like it’s his own, but it seems… rude, somehow, to just shut it away in a closet forever. Like it’s some dark secret.

Crumbling statues of long-forgotten heroes; dark magic seeping up from the floor like rot. Something not quite a mirror turning to face him with a black-toothed smile -

He shudders.

But that’s not the sword’s fault.

He runs careful fingers over the worn hilt. Someone had wound strips of linen around the old, crumbling leather. Trying to hold it together? Or an emergency measure, so they could use the sword just a little longer? If he concentrates he can almost feel the same kind of presence as he gets from the gold-bladed Master Sword on his back. Something cool and soft and humming.

Maybe, he thinks, maybe it would like travelling with him for a while.

And he doesn’t get anything as concrete as a yes, but the hum - eases. Like someone leaning against his shoulder and letting out a sigh of quiet relief.

“Okay,” Link says, and slings the sword across his other shoulder. It settles comfortably into place. Although - the scabbard is as old and worn as the hilt wrappings. If he’s gonna be bringing it with him, he’ll need to do a little repair work, to make sure it stays secure. “You’ll let me know if you have any opinions on that stuff, okay?”

It’s probably his imagination, but the hum sounds almost fond.

[undertheopensky]

colorsss. some sketches under cut

[undertheopensky]

Creatures Great And Small

It’s not that travelling through portals is a comfortable experience. It’s just when you do it so much, you start to get a feel for it - a familiarity of sorts, even though it sucks Din’s hairy balls on a summer day in Gerudo desert. And when you know what to expect, it’s pretty obvious when you don’t get it.

All this to say, this portal sucks, but in a slightly different way. A little to the left, or with a blue glass lens laid over it, or -

Legend hits the ground and crumples because his legs won’t hold him up. Which is uncomfortably familiar in a completely different way, goddesses, he has to get his bearings before the goddamn cook does and nothing is working right his legs won’t brace he can’t catch his balance he feels all shaky and strange -

But when he manages to at least lift his head, it’s not to an arrow in his face.

Ah. Silly me.

If Legend had been suddenly and violently forced into his Dark World form, it was likely they’d fallen into the Dark World through the portal. (Or an equivalent realm; Legend’s reserving judgement.) And if he’s affected, then of course the others would be too.

So instead of a band of Hylians contemplating dinner he’s instead faced with an array of strange animals busy panicking about their strangeness.

A pair of foxes, one red, brown, and cute, and the other red, white, and eerie. A horse that looked like it had been dragged through a mud field and a buck that had definitely been dragged through a hedge. A big cat with fur so dark it shone blue in the light, and something shaped like a dog except far, far too large, striped like a tiger and shrouded in thick ruffs of fur. Another fox-like thing, but this one black and blue with floppy ears - maybe it’s actually a dog?? Or, no, it does have the small triangular ears of a fox, it just also has ridiculous locks of fur hanging down its skull -

And Legend himself feels no instinctive fear at being in close quarters with all these predators.

Since they all seem occupied freaking out, he takes the chance to confirm his suspicions - he isn’t a rabbit. No pink fur, no long ears, no terror lining his heart. But also limited use of his forelimbs. At least rabbits could rock back on their haunches and maybe manipulate things, but Legend’s new shape is an obligate quadruped, apparently, because his hips refuse to bend that way.

Tragic.

Not that he’d be using a weapon either way.

The giant dog has made it to his feet with remarkable ease. His jaw opens, Twilight’s placid drawl contrasting against the long canines. “This is not how ah imagined mah day goin’.”

Ah, that explains it. The rancher has some practice what with his wolf form -

Wait. Why isn’t he in wolf form?

“Must be a different kinda realm,” he says in answer to that. “Ah never got a straight answer as to just what the Twilight Realm is.”

“The Dark World was said to be the Sacred Realm corrupted by dark magic and hatred. Is your Twilight place different?”

Twilight frowns. It’s odd, Legend thinks, to not feel a frisson of terror at a predator’s face twisting in thought. “Ah think so.”

“So if you two have been through this before, does that mean you know how to turn us back?” Unlike Twilight, Sky has not made as far as his feet. His large, cat-like form still lies in an ungainly sprawl.

Legend manages an awkward shrug. “As soon as we’re portalled out, we should change back. I have an item in my bags that is supposed to prevent this, but if I’m not actively holding it - hey - watch it -”

The red and brown fox has come bounding over with more enthusiasm than skill and almost lands on top of Legend. Sky gets his limbs tangled up when he tries to jolt to his feet. “Ledge! Ledge! Hey, Ledge, did you see that?! Have you ever done anything that cool before?!”

He’s probably referring to the backflip but Legend’s busy trying to figure out how to strangle Wild with his paws. “Why are you like this?!”

“Sorry about him.” Four’s picked his way over with considerably more care than Wild. “Not that I have any control over him, but y’know.” Up close, his fox-form looks a little off. Paws dipped in blood and a ruff so wispy it almost fades into mist at the ends, Four looks like he’s not entirely there. Still, he sounds normal, so Legend’s filing that under ‘not his problem until it is’.

“C’mon, up y’get,” Twilight says in encouragement. Wind’s pitiful whine gets a nudge with one giant paw. “You can do it. S’not so hard once y’catch ya balance.”

“Easy for you to say,” Wind mumbles into the dirt. Still, he does push himself up, and oh, that’s interesting. It turns out Wind is bipedal, except he still has paws and no opposable thumbs, which doesn’t bode well if they run into anything as complicated as a doorknob.

“What are you?” Wild asks, fascinated.

Legend would also like to know, since no dog he knows of walks on two legs, but the Dark World makes no sense at the best of times.

Wind bares his short little teeth from where he’s clinging to Twilight’s side for balance. He gets distracted from whatever he’s going to say to Wild, however, by Warriors finally staggering over on his spindly deer legs.

“There’s goddamn - flowers caught in my antlers -” he shakes his head, and the greenery rustles pleasantly. “Can someone help me out here?!”

“I don’t think any of us have opposable thumbs,” says Sky. His tail twitches.

Desperate, Warriors turns to the only other herbivore in the group.

“I am not eating the foliage out of your hair,” says Time. His deep voice sounds comical coming out of the mouth of an enormous horse. “Who knows where it’s been?”

With a groan, Warriors resigns himself to the indignity.

“Okay, okay, let’s get this show on the road,” Legend calls. “Is everyone alright? No injuries while you were figuring out your legs?”

He gets six ‘I’m fine’s and a sheepish admission from Sky that he still can’t stand up. You’re gonna have to sort that out eventually, you’re way too big for anyone to carry you, he says, then frowns. “Wait. Where’s Hyrule?”

“Um! Down here!”

Okay so they’re at least present.

They’re a fairy - small and pale with flowers wound through their hair standing on a daisy head. Or. At least fairy-shaped. The wings are wrong, small and stubby and opaque, and there’s no glow of magic around them.

It’s definitely Hyrule, though, and there’s no way they’ll be able to keep up with the rest of them at their size. “Okay, so we’re gonna have to carry you,” Legend says, and for the first time properly regrets the apparent loss of his rabbit form. “Wind? Think you can pick them up?”

Hyrule squeaks and dives down to cling to the white petals underfoot. “Don’t squish me!!”

“I won’t!” Wind promises, and carefully cups both flower and fairy in his clumsy paws to lift them out of the grass. “See? I got you. You’re okay.”

“Can you carry them without falling on your face, though?” Wild sounds genuinely curious, which just makes Wind bristle and scowl.

“Of course I can!!! Just watch me!”

“If you need to jump ship to someone’s back, no one will mind,” says Four to tiny Hyrule.

Sky has finally made it to his feet, leaning on the taller Twilight as he finds his balance. “I don’t know how you do this so easily…”

“Stop thinkin’ so hard. It’ll come to ya.”

Sky promptly stumbles and rowwls in frustration.

A predator’s snarl would once have thrown Legend’s heart into paroxysms of terror, but now there’s just - mild alertness. Interest in whatever had gotten Sky’s attention. No fear. No adrenaline coursing through him making it impossible to think of anything except racing to get away.

Between a pink rabbit and a blue cat…

Yeah. Legend will take the carnivore any day.

[undertheopensky]

just wanted to say that I love your shatterproof au! I read through all of it over the last few weeks and the fluffy parts always make me smile.

now there is nothing stopping me from decorating my own wheelchair just like four’s :D

Aaaah thank you so much!! Sorry I take so freaking long to get to asks. But this means a lot to me, thank you. I need to return to the shatterproof boys soon. <3 have a phone doodle!

...I just realized I forgot to draw the rest of the chair. Oops.

[undertheopensky]

Helping Hands

Characters: Wild, Four

Tags: Chronic Illness, Dislocated Joints, Medical Care, modern au but it's so vague you could be forgiven for not noticing

Warning: This fic contains information of a medical nature. This information should not be considered professional medical advice and should not used to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent injury or disease. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME UNLESS YOUR DOCTOR HAS EXPLICITLY INSTRUCTED YOU TO AND HOW TO DO IT.

———

The trust inherent in letting your brother wrap their hands around your neck.

———

“Hey, Four. You know I trust you, right?”

Four glances up from his pliers. “Yes, but you asking me directly is a little concerning.”

“Would you be able to do me a massive, massive favour?”

Bemused, Four sets his wire project aside and hops off his stool. “I mean. What do you need me to do, exactly?”

“Well first get back on the stool, I need to be standing and you’re too short to reach otherwise.”

Four complies with a snort and an eyeroll. “If this is just an excuse to harass me about my height—”

“It’s not, I swear.”

Actually, now that he’s looking, Wild looks — tense. Moving slow and stiff and not turning his head, with something that might be pain tucked into the creases at his eyes. “Is your neck bothering you? I have painkillers—”

“It is, but later. Right now I need you to hold your hands like this-” Wild demonstrates — “at the base of my skull, and apply pressure without moving at all while I pop my neck back into place.”

Four’s heart stutters. “I’m sorry, your neck?”

Wild looks sheepish. “The second vertebra subluxated and it hurts like fuck, I can pop it back in but I need your hands. Will you do it? Please? I trust you.”

“That’s — are you sure?”

“Yeah, my physio taught me how to do this. Wrists and stuff too. Since… y’know.”

Four does know. Wild dislocates bones like most people change clothes. It wasn’t until his twenties that someone actually went hey that’s kinda weird and they started looking into it, started getting him help.

He does better now.

Four takes a deep breath. “Yeah, of course I’ll help. You gotta tell me exactly what to do, though, okay? I do machines, not squishy humans.”

Wild laughs, a flutter all in his chest as his head stays unnaturally still. “Yeah, you got it, bud.”

Wild turns his back and steps trustingly into the cradle of Four’s legs so his small hands settle over his shoulders and his fingers splay down towards the collarbones peeking out of his shirt. Between his thumbs sits the line of Wild’s spine, bone under skin. It looks delicate. It looks normal.

Four’s stomach churns.

“Okay, now brace your hands, and dig your thumbs in a little,” says Wild. “More pressure. More pressure. That’s perfect, just like that. I’m gonna move my head but I need your hands to stay exactly where they are, okay? Don’t follow me.”

“Alright.” Four steadies himself. Not locking up, just — bracing, tensing the muscles to make an unmoving scaffold for Wild to use.

Slowly, Wild turns his head to the left, then the right. The bones under the skin press against Four’s thumbs. He holds fast, doesn’t let them push him aside. He’s never paid attention to it before but now it’s right in front of him and the hard shapes flexing under the skin is — it’s disturbing. The way the muscles in Wild’s neck flutter and jump doesn’t help. Goddesses.

Wild tips his chin up with a hiss of pain.

“All good?” Four asks. He’s pleased by how steady his voice is.

“Yeah. Just can’t quite — get that one. Hurts too much.” He switches tracks and tilts his head slowly to the side, and under normal circumstances he can touch his ear to his shoulder without lifting it at all but he’s so stiff right now. Wild barely gets halfway before hesitating and switching sides. Avoiding the pain. Avoiding hurting himself, maybe damaging himself, and Four trusted him to know his limits but was this really safe —

Under Four’s right thumb there’s a faint click like a door latch closing and Wild gasps with relief. “Yes! Got it. Fuck that’s so much better. Four, thank you so much, fuck, I can’t do that on my own and it’s a pain in the ass getting an appointment with my physio every fucking time—”

“Doesn’t it go back on its own sometimes too?” Four pulls his hands away as Wild turns to face him.

“Yeah. Some little movement and it just slides back in, but it’s not consistent. It’s so much easier with a helper. Thanks again.”

“You sure we don’t need to go to the doctor? Oh, I need to—” Four digs around in the desk drawer, he knows he has a spare bottle here somewhere.

“No point. It’s not like they can do anything for me that you didn’t.” Wild beams at him. “Thanks, Four.”

“…shut up and take the painkillers.”

[undertheopensky]

Girl Problems

Characters: Young Link (HW), Sheik (HW)

Tags: Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors, Young Link, Sheik, briefly mentioned war and resulting injuries but nothing explicit, Gender and Identity, the ordeal of being known

------

It’s easier now to respond to the simple nods and calls of ‘hey, Sheik!’ where she was previously more used to strict decorum. Not to say she dislikes it - the opposite, in fact. It’s… freeing, in a way, not to have the expectations of royalty hanging over her the way her skirts sometimes weighed her down.

Not having to stop and engage in small talk with every person who thought themselves important was a bonus. She’s on a mission.

Fortunately, Mask wasn’t trying to be stealthy when he stormed away from the command tent. She tracks him through camp by following the path of concerned and alarmed expressions pointed at waist height. It’s almost as good as a trail of breadcrumbs.

As usual when Mask is upset, she finds him curled up in a supply tent in a nest of unopened crates. His bandaged arm is laid out over his knees, so he can stay curled up and scowling sulkily over the top of it.

It’s adorable, but she knows better than to tell him so.

Instead, Zelda takes a seat on a crate opposite him - not directly in his line of sight, off to the side so it’s not so confronting - and draws up a knee to lean on while she waits.

In truth, she’s glad of the opportunity to sit down. They’d just come out of a nasty battle in the era of Skyloft, where the uneven terrain of a rock quarry made for treacherous footing. To make matters worse, the forts they’d been working out of were poorly maintained. Collapsed walls and thick brush right up to the walls made for multiple ambushes, and there was little they could do about any of it without setting the whole forest ablaze. It had made the fighting difficult, and desperate.

Mask had broken an arm. Zelda herself has bruised ribs and a pained whistle to her breathing, but it’s a minor injury compared to what’s still turning up on the triage lists as the battalion trickles in. There’s just not enough potion to go around.

“Captain Link will be alright, you know.”

Mask flinches, then turns an incensed scowl on her for breaking his ‘pretending I’m ignoring you’ routine.

“It was a hard battle,” she says, choosing her words carefully, “and a lot of people got hurt. Link got hurt. And even though he’ll be okay, it’s alright to be scared.”

That jolts Mask right out of his defensive huddle and straight into ‘offended’ instead. “‘M not SCARED. He’s just stupid. An’ - a hypocrite. Scolds me f’r not goin’ to the healers for every splinter an’ then tries to walk around on a broken leg. It’s stupid. He’s stupid.”

“He can be,” Zelda agrees. “We men often are.” Her heart skips a beat at the lie.

Mask makes a grumbling noise that is neither agreement nor denial. Then: “S’not just men. Girls are stupid too.”

Oh no. Please don’t let this be girl problems. She thought they dodged this with Tune since he was so hung up on ‘his captain’ (though he would screech in red-faced offense if you suggested it), it would just figure Mask had to be precocious -

Mask is staring at her very deliberately.

“…Mask?”

“You should tell them.”

She blinks at him, thrown by the subject change. “Tell them what? Tell who?”

The little scamp has the audacity to roll his eyes at her. “Impa ‘n the captain. They’re real worried, you know. Seems kinda mean.”

Sheik’s mask hides her smile. “And what am I supposed to be telling them, hmm? About Captain Link letting fairies nest in his scarf again? Tune’s newest hiding place for his stolen liquor?”

“No, dummy. ‘Bout you.”

“About me?” Sheik glances down at herself, all playful theatrics. “And what am I supposed to be telling them about me?”

She could have gone on and listed all the things she’d eaten for breakfast or the fact that she fell asleep last night in the horse stables, but Mask interrupts with an impatient scoff.

“Noooo. ‘Bout you bein’ - Sheik. ‘Bout who you really are. You might be foolin’ them, but you don’t fool me.”

Sheik - Zelda - freezes.

Just for a second before she recovers because she can’t have tells like that, but - no one else has so much as shown a flicker of suspicion, not beyond Sheik being an unknown element. Mask had never even met her out of her Sheikah disguise. How the hell had he caught onto her? And how could she make sure no one else ever did -?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He sighs, loudly. “Why’re adults so dumb? Am I gonna get this dumb when I grow up?” he complains to thin air.

“Mask, no, I’m serious,” she says, chill still spreading over her skin. She needs to convince him he’s mistaken. Or at least that he needs to drop it. Zelda can’t even risk asking him what gave her away or it’ll convince him he’s right. “You can’t go around - saying those kinds of things. People might get the wrong idea.”

He stares at her for a long, considering moment, then nods. “Oh. I get it.”

Relief leaves her shaky. She’d been expecting more of a battle with Mask’s stubbornness.

“You know, you should tell them that, too,” he informs her.

“Tell them what?” Zelda is beginning to feel like she’s been off balance for the entire conversation.

“That it’s easier to be a boy sometimes.”

She’d thought she felt cold earlier. That was a spring breeze compared to the ice stealing over her heart now. She is mostly hidden in careful swathes of cloth; how is it he can see her so clearly?

“It’s okay.” His too-knowing eyes bore into her. “They’re not gonna be mean about it, they love you too much. An’ if anyone else says anything I bet the Captain will beat them up for you! Or would you rather do that yourself?” He frowns in thought - clearly considering Sheik’s prowess on the battlefield.

“I would prefer not to tell anyone,” she says, in a tight, controlled voice. “And I’d prefer you not tell anyone, either. It is dangerous, Mask.”

Mask gives her a condescending pat on the hand. “It’s not gonna be as bad as you think. But okay. If you want a little more time, I guess that’s okay. You gotta tell them who you are sometime, though. They miss you.” He hops off the crate with all the energy and sprightliness of youth, clearly done with Emotions for the day. “I’m gonna go put mud down Tune’s shirt.”

“Have fun, don’t get your bandage wet,” she says dryly, and Mask grins at her before running off. Leaving her to contemplate just where the conversation had gone so wrong. She’d been trying to comfort him, and look what it had turned into!

(And what did it matter besides? At the end of the day, she’s Hyrule’s princess. She can’t avoid those expectations forever. No matter how they strangle.)

(Mask is wrong. She can’t tell them.)

(But for now… for now at least, she can be comfortable in her own skin. For now, she can pretend.)

[undertheopensky]

[undertheopensky]

We revised Minish Four. Much cuter stylization this time around.

[undertheopensky]

for mermay can we all collectively imagine a universe in which twilight princess was fishing-based instead of farming-based and instead of turning link into a werewolf the powers that be turned him into a selkie. hero's shade as a giant shimmery golden seal that glows underwater. link spends so much time chasing him around with his limited understanding of how seals move. getting taught how to do seal things like Galumphing and Ripping Fish With Teeth. can u imagine. can u imagine. water imp midna with her hair full of seaweed. true form midna like an underwater tongue of flame, a water devil, a mermaid. coming up off the beach in ordon only to be met with rusl who does not want a giant fucking seal stealing the fish he feeds his family with. rolling himself out of the skin to promise zelda he's not a danger to her. barefoot in hyrule castle dripping water all through the hallways. fish-eyed and stinking like the ocean and clutching his pelt round his shoulders with one hand, sword in the other. how do u go back to ur old lighthouse at night and light a lamp in the window, knowing the sea is howling your name? how do u sit on the edge of the dock when u know how deep the darkness goes? when you've felt it against your seal-skin?