#╰ ･ SWORD POINT ✱ ∶ perfection in the blood¸ twilight in the heart.

[venalier]

providing instructional support had become almost second nature for her by now. caeldori was proud to say that her high scores, faultless attendance, and consistent performance made her dependable enough to be sought out when her professors needed an extra hand to help things go smoothly, or make sure everyone else didn't fall prey to the common vices of student life. when their usual sword instructor ran into a schedule conflict and wasn't able to teach class, she's sure everyone else would've loved the day to be called off. more time to laze about in the courtyards, gossip with their friends in the dining hall, snatch a midday nap. she can't understand that kind of willingness to just stagnate — just being okay with knowing that your time and efforts were going wasted — but she'd moved on from being the one taking the time to round up all the missing individuals like she'd had during the war.

here, she supposed, no one was going to lose their lives if they decided to be lazy. everyone had to take responsibility for their own growth, after all.

the only part of today that she hadn't prepared for was who was going to be substituting as their facilitator. ' a qualified church contractor from elyos ' was all she'd been told, and she hadn't pressed for more, presuming that one of the monks or sisters would be coming to keep an eye on things and act as a stand-by cleric on the off chance that someone got careless.

and, well— that wasn't untrue.

initially, when he approaches, she thinks he's someone who's found the wrong place. and then, maybe that he'd been sent on behalf of their substitute to let her know that they wouldn't be able to make it either. it's only when he takes one step more into her personal space ( and she half-steps back on instinct, a notch coming into her brow ), and produces his name with an unsettling grin that it starts to sink in that she'd had it wrong and this man had to be, in fact, the one they'd all been waiting for. she takes him in wordlessly, from the red claw of the tattoo down the left side of his face to the bits of protruding metal to the clench of teeth biting down on that smile.

when he turns away, a glance tells her that almost everyone else looked varying degrees of as taken aback as herself, and this reminds her of why she'd been asked to stand up here as their teaching assistant in the first place. "yes, i do," she answers firmly, taking a step forward and steeling herself against what she's growing more certain to be intimidation tactics; was he underestimating her because she was a student, or her age, or her size? "five minutes for warm-up and stretching; ten minutes of basic drills. the explanation of hoshidan technique will begin with form, then breathing exercises and mindfulness training. the bladework won't be until the last five minutes, and only as a demonstration. it's not something that can be taught in a single class."

from the way this ' griss ' acted though, he sounded like he had other ideas. and while she had her doubts about him ( as well as what the administration considered a suitable substitute now ), he was standing in for the professor. there was always the chance similar sword techniques were taught differently in elyos. she uncrosses her arms to rest one hand on her hip. "... but there's some room in the schedule to be flexible, if you think something could be done better, instructor."

Cuts You Up [Griss & Caeldori]

starter for @venalier Swordsmasters of Elyos and Hoshido have long inspired people with their signature finishing move: the ability to cut through an opponent with dazzling speed, so fast that one can’t even perceive the blade leaving its sheath. The Battle of the Eagle and Lion reignites interest in learning these techniques. Determined students have made some progress but haven’t quite mastered the move. Think you can help them? [ Grants Sword +1 ]

Being from Elyos was really the only thing that mattered for a sword seminar, it seemed. Griss was a swordmaster only in the sense that he knew all the different ways a blade could cut, how deep, how fatal, where they excelled compared to blunt weapons, and when they got boring, but he'd only ever picked one up a handful of times, and never for use as a real weapon. The church had hired him as a mercenary, but maybe they'd never seen a mage as cut up and scarred as he was (actually, he knows they haven't), so they assumed he'd know his way around physical weapons. "Fill in for so-and-so tomorrow morning, Griss." And Griss didn't feel like turning them down. Wasn't much else to do while he sat around waiting for a job.

He'd never fancied himself a teacher, and the little academy brats were made of porcelain and silver, like all the things he had never been allowed to touch. But all they wanted was a supervisor, someone who knew the technique in question, and yeah, he'd seen it enough to know it. He could probably tell them if they were doing it wrong - he'd definitely know it if they tried it on him personally, which he'd have them do at least twice by the end if he hoped to make any of this worth his time - and there was supposed to be some sort of student volunteer heading up the real lesson. Some sort of straight A stiff, Griss had no doubt about that.

And there she was. Even without that flaming red mane of hers, she was a blazing beacon of earnest support and eager attention before her peers. It looked like she was even straightening out the already-immaculate line of training swords for what Griss was sure had to be the tenth time while she waited for him (because of course she had gotten there early, too; he wasn't even that late). His eyes swept over the small gathering where a few heads were already turning with muted curiosity toward his approach. A dozen or so swaddled babies on one side, and an overzealous tryhard on the other. Just perfect.

"Let me guess: you're--" Griss dug the name out from underneath all the other stuff that had piled up in the last half-day. "--Caeldori, right?" He stepped over the line of white chalk that designated one side of the makeshift arena, and then past that unspoken boundary that separated strangers and acquaintances from the space reserved for friends, sizing her up, his smile making a jagged line across his face.

"Griss," he introduced in turn, stopped, then turned his grimace on their informal audience. They had quieted their own friendly conversations and were now staring owlishly. Griss scratched the back of his head. "Gonna take another guess too: you already got this whole exhibition planned by the minute, don'tcha?"

[cthulhuwritesstuff]

Zoro and Sanji are unsatisfied after a fight and need more.

It was after a random mediocre fight with the Marines, it was on an island Zoro couldn’t really remember the name of. It was a hot summer afternoon, the oppressive heat clung to his robe-covered form, a solitary droplet of sweat tracing his temple.

His muscles were pulled taut still, and his breath wouldn’t settle. Adrenaline spiked higher regardless of the fact that their opponents were far from competent, heart raced faster against the logic that told him they were all safe and no threat would find them here, and teeth gritted itching for action, blood, something to sink into, something to tear…

Amidst a marketplace aglow with twilight's embrace, Zoro strode with an absent gaze, prompting people to scatter from his path. Tension gripped him, fist clenched around Wado's hilt. Not seeking conflict, yet craving it, as if starved and deprived of a proper opponent. As if looking for someone who would make him struggle just a bit, someone who would present a challenge, rather than a sensation of fighting a motionless wooden doll. Someone with a bit of spice.

He wasn’t looking for him, either. He wasn’t, truly. But there he was, right in front of Zoro, casual and infuriating as fucking always, standing straight in the way of Zoro’s path like some rinsed-out cliche. Of course, Sanji wouldn’t have moved with the rest of the people rushing to get out of the way of the Demon of the East.

Of course, he’d stand there as if he owned the street, smoking like his usual arrogant self.

Of course, Sanji looked entirely unbothered, bored even, those long fingers covering half of his face as he inhaled his poison, blond strands of hair falling over those ice-cold eyes.

As if the cook wasn’t right there with Zoro fighting.

As if he wasn’t also disappointed at the lack of strength form each of his opponents.

As if he wasn’t pissed as well.

Zoro could feel it, despite of what he saw. That casual suave fuckery was a show Sanji might as well reserve for anyone else that didn’t know what the asshole actually wanted.

Zoro knew. He could almost taste it. It was bitter like those tobacco sticks the blond was addicted to, it was heated like Zoro’s blood singing to find exactly what he- what they both needed.

“Ne Marimo…”

There he was. That voice.

Zoro gritted his teeth as he came to a halt, his shoulders squaring.

Infuriating. Galling. Pompous.

Ideal.

The blue eye, cold and sharp, locked with the furrowed golden gleam of Zoro’s glare, and there was a smile, dangerous knife-edged thing, flashing over the pale features that cut into the space between them and the swordsman felt the sting. It felt good.

“Lost again?”

Asshole cook.

A perfect distraction. A proper opponent. Someone who Zoro could break a little, someone who Zoro wanted to see bleed just a little. Someone who could take him in a proper fight, and not faint at the sight of his swords.

Right there.

Come on…

“Looking for something, ero cook?”

Come on, cook…

The asshole scoffed at that, “That’s the best you got, zucchini brain?”

Zoro felt like his teeth would crash under the pressure of his jaw as a low rumbled vibrated deep in his throat- a warning and a challenge that Sanji perked up at, his features flattening in a single movement.

There you go.

Zoro’s knees bent and Wado hissed as she was pulled from her sheath,

“I got you one better.”

Sanji stubbed out the spent cigarette against the sole of his shoe, purposefully ignoring Zoro’s words. There was a single little smirk almost missed by the swordsman, dangerous and taunting, before he did something Zoro would have never expected.

Sanji took off running.

Bewildered for merely a second, the swordsman watched a bit wide-eyed as the blond darted away, long legs carrying him across the street and into the crowded thoroughfare, and just then, like a hunter, his blood boiled to the point of pain in his veins, his muscles rippled and mind went red.

A feral grin split Zoro’s face, salt of his sweat blooming on the tongue when he licked his lips. He didn’t need instructions, they were clear, almost as clear as those glacier eyes that somehow always taunted him.

Hunt me.

Zoro wanted to be rational for all of a moment, but another beast swelled within, causing the mind to silence those thoughts. There was something about meeting that razor-sharp gaze, something in the way Sanji planted himself there- right there- like a willing pray. Something about the way he itched under that flawless composure of his for the same thing Zoro wanted, and soon, the swordsman couldn’t care about being rational.

Zoro growled, and he moved forward, bolted across the street without even minding the bystanders, or anything in his way. There was nobody there, not in his vision, not with his whole existence focused on that blond head rushing from view. There’s the sound of an insult form a familiar voice, something incoherent but sounding almost like Zoro’s name, like a tease, close enough to hear but so far away for him to bite into it, and Zoro was mindless.

“Cook!” he bellowed, tone hoarse and heavy, and when Sanji’s voice reached him once more from the crowd in a form of a giggle, he sped up- a feral grin flashing across his features.

Run, Curly.

[ashla-respect]

Linked Together by Blood

Tyra is the daughter of the hero of Twilight. She is very similar to her father in terms of being able to turn into a wolf and have wolf senses in her human form. But she also have powers gifted to her by the Goddess Hylia.

Somehow she is teleported back in time to when her father was going on his second journey with the 8 other hero's of Hyrule. She has no idea why she was brought back in time by Hylia but she plans to find out why and help her father and the other Links as well.

***DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN The Legend of Zelda or Linked Universe or any of the songs I end up using; Nintendo OWNS The Legend of Zelda AND jojo56830 OWNS The Linked Universe AU AND the original artist OWNS the songs***

**I ONLY OWN Tyra any other OC’s AND the story plot**

*Mature rating for swearing and violence*

I hope you enjoy and if you don't like then don't Read nor comment I will not tolerate any hate I only wrote this for those who would possibly enjoy it.

Thank You! And enjoy!!

Cross posted on Wattpad and Ao3

Chapter 1: Tyra Daughter of the Hero of Twilight

(A/N: This chapter is mostly a quick introduction of Tyra and how Tyra gets sent on her adventure from her point of view. The next part will start with how the Links met Tyra and continued their adventure from their point of view but mostly Twilight and Time’s point of viewing).

Tyra's POV:

'How could this happen?! It never crossed my mind! Father always told me that Hylia always did everything for a reason; but, WHAT WAS THE REASON FOR WHAT THAT BITCH DID THIS TIME!?!? Why am I here in the past with a younger version of my father, ancestor (grandpa) Time, (uncle) Wild, Sky, Warriors, Legend, Hyrule, Wind, and Four traversing the different versions of the kingdom Hyrule trying to stop Dark Link?! As father always says there's only one way to find out. So I guess here I go to find out why I'm here. Dark Link you better watch out you will have 10 angry Hylian's coming for your ass!' I thought.

Hi, if your wondering why I'm so confused and angry well then get your ass settled it's a long story and you'll be here a while but, basically it all started on a normal day in my era of Hyrule on the eve of my 21st year and 4 years after I lost my father to a war that I blame all of it completely on Queen Zelda (Dusk) herself! My father is Link the hero of twilight and my mother is Ilia. My life was perfect I had both my parents giving me so much love, I'm part wolf, I was gifted powers by the Goddess Hylia, I'm an excellent swordsman, marksman, and martial artist and, I'm a ranch hand and Queen Zelda (Dusk) TOOK ALL MY HAPPINESS AWAY FROM ME!!!! Ahem - this is how my first big adventure starts....

Narrators POV:

It was a beautiful day in Ordon Village, Tyra and her horse Rosamond just finished herding all the goats and Tyra was now patrolling Faron woods for any stray travelers trying to get into the forest temple or monsters deciding to come close to the village. Tyra had her sword on her and her wolf senses were sharp and on the loo out for any danger, but no monsters were attacking her all of them are afraid of her. 'All these monsters are scared of me just like with father....' Tyra sighed.

'I really miss you... I wish you were here with me and mom. Ever since you died Epona has been missing no one knows where she is. I keep having nightmares about how you died saying "Tyra my beloved daughter, I'm sorry I have to leave you and your mother all alone but know that I'm always here in your heart no matter how far I may be. I love you my kitten." I wish it weren't true! I wish you never went to war! I wish you were here hugging me telling everything is alright! But it's like you always said Hylia does everything for a reason. But I just miss you too much daddy.' Tyra broke down crying at light spirit Farore's spring in Faron woods.

The hero of Twilight fought in a war 4 years prior against the Gerudo who left when Ganon was sealed; they only recently heard that Ganon had been killed and became angered. This then became the second war in Hyrule's history that had been Hyrule against the Gerudo. Link had gotten himself surrounded by about 30 Gerudo soldiers while being heavily wounded and perished in battle. Ilia was devastated learning of Link's death while, Tyra was not only devastated but she was also enraged at Queen Zelda (Dusk) for 'forcing' her father to fight in the war that got him killed.

Tyra, in her heartbroken state rode Rosamond all the way to Hyrule Castle with no rest stops and swore out Queen Zelda (Dusk) while also getting violent. Due to the way she acted in the Queen's throne room word about it quickly spread throughout Hyrule Castle Town about how she was just as wild and crazy as her father not that she cared how people thought about her anyway.

Sure, she wasn't proud of what she did but she wouldn't change what she did because at least she told in Tyra's opinion that 'good for nothing Queen!' what she thought about her father's death. Once she calmed down she started heading back home before her mother and grandmother Uli got worried and both started going on a war path again.

The next day:

Today is Tyra's 21st birthday a special day that marks her as a fully grown woman. She wished her father was here to see the woman she's become knowing he would be so proud of her. "Happy birthday Tyra!!" Came the voices of Ilia, Uli, Rusl, uncle Collin, his wife Beth, aunt Hassa, and her grandfather the mayor of Ordon. "Thank you everyone. I just wish father was here too that would have made today absolutely perfect." Tyra said with a sad smile.

"Oh I know sweetheart but remember your father is always here in your heart." Said Ilia. Tyra smiled and hugged her mother tight. At that same moment she felt her father's spirit hug both her and her mother.

Ever since Link died there are times in which Tyra can feel her father's spirit but not see him nor his golden poe lantern (except for at night when she's not near a fire) and she always feels better once she feels his presence.

'It's odd that I'm the only one who can feel father's spirit. Well if I had to guess it's probably due to the fact that he's worried about me.' Ilia then let's go of Tyra and once she does Tyra no longer feels her father's spirit. 'And he's gone again... but still around like always.' Then they all went on to throw a huge Ordonian celebration with Uli's famous pumpkin cake. Tyra even got to train with uncle Collin. But then something strange happened. Suddenly Tyra, her family and Rosamond were teleported to the Ordon spring protected by the light spirit Ordona. Tyra and her family were so shocked and confused as to why they were actually seeing the light spirit Ordona.

"Young Tyra the daughter of the hero of twilight the past and future are in grave danger some great evil is planning to go back in time to kill the hero of twilight before he and his companions who are traveling throughout every Hyrule. The Goddess Hylia has chosen you to be the one to join the hero's on their journey to defeat this great evil." said Ordona.

"What?! But why? I've never been on such a big adventure I'm not good enough for this!" questioned Tyra. "You have the blessings and powers gifted to you by the Goddess Hylia you shall be fine child." said Ordona. "Sweetheart, it looks like there's no way out of it. Go help your father and just come home safely that's all I ask." said Ilia. Tyra looked to her mother knowing she was right.

After quickly saying goodbye to her family and getting Rosamond ready she turned to Ordona. "Here is the hero's garb that Hylia herself made for you. Remember do not reveal anything about who the hero's of Hyrule is to fight and, do not reveal to much about yourself to your father as that might change history and you may never be born. Take care on your journey young Tyra, may the goddess watch over you." said Ordona. Next thing Tyra knows the world is spinning and going black.

Once everything calms down and she can see Tyra finds herself in what seems to be a random Hyrule. 'What part of the journey did I stumble into that they're still in a random Hyrule?!' thought Tyra. "Hey just who are you?!" comes a voice. Tyra turns and sees that it was from what she knows Legend who asked that. Unfortunately for her it's not only Legend but all of the 9 Links who are staring her down in a hostile manner.

'Well this ought to be fun. Thanks Hylia.' Tyra sarcastically thought.

Next>>

[venalier]

THE SWALLOW’S TALENTS.

now, where was she? step, step, turn. block. step, step, turn. thrust. slash up. anticipate the false weak point; twist, grab. twist, and— no, no, dragons, she couldn’t keep this up! it didn’t take seeing herself in a mirror to know this maneuver couldn’t be any good either. with a sound of frustration, she steps back, propping the practice sword in her hand against a nearby column to adjust her hairtie in consternation, staring at the dusty floor some paces ahead as though it was to blame for her lack of progress.

where was she going wrong?

caeldori seldom struggled with a class assignment. on the contrary, she often jumped at the chance for new challenges. this one hadn’t necessarily been different, though she had been surprised by the avenue the instructor had taken. dance and swordsmanship? they might as well have asked her to find a way to cook something suitable using garlic and sugar.

and try as she might, she can’t get these steps to feel like anything more but another training regimen she’d written up for herself. she can dance ( passably enough ); she knows rhythm and the basic tenets of music; it’s not as though she has no sense for these things. but getting it to mix with martial technique was impossible. a practical skill meant for battle, and a skill meant to be enjoyed during peacetime, inherently expressive — each one had their place and importance, but separate.

scrubbing a hand down her face, she opts to take a break and rethink it again, dropping onto a nearby bench and uncapping her waterskin, elbows resting on her thighs. fortunately, this early in the morning before the sun has even completely lit up the sky, these training halls are otherwise empty, and no one else has to bear witness to her repeated failings. but the respite won’t last too much longer, and she’d like to have something to show for initial demonstrations in class later today, something preferably finished — even if the instructor had emphasized that having nothing was fine and that class would also be spent working on it.

contemplative gaze drifts back to the wooden sword where it leans on stone, pointer finger idly tapping an imaginary rhythm against the waterskin. maybe if she added more expression to the turns? step, step, pivot...

   ♡   //   @seraphiia

[starbornsinger]

Favourite Distraction (Gwyn x Azriel One-shot)

Summary: During a training session, the line between friendship and romance becomes more and more blurred for Gwyn and Azriel. Fluff, some steam. Set in the Nepenthe universe.

Word Count: 2.4K

“The chances of you making it out of this alive are slim.”

Well, the blade at Gwyneth’s neck certainly proved that point. The sharp tip pressed into her skin, threatening to slice her open with the slightest flick of a wrist. “If I apply any pressure, I’d go straight through your neck. If you move, I’ll slice your throat.”

Nowhere to go.

Gwyn’s teal eyes scanned the surrounding area wildly, landing on the sword which had skittered a mere foot away. Even with her fingers splayed painfully, the priestess could only graze the hilt of her weapon with her fingertips. There was no way she could grab hold of it, not without risking death.

She gulped. Pinned to the floor on her stomach, the cold steel of the dagger kept her from fighting back, and Gwyn knew she was running out of options. Bargaining was her last resort.

“I—” “Don’t move,” the male repeated harshly, his knee digging into her spine. “My hand might slip.”

Gwyneth was stuck. She had no escape.

“Damn it,” she swore under her breath, and patted her hand on the solid ground. “Alright, you win.”

Azriel withdrew his blade at her tap-out; he was sitting on her back, practically crushing her lungs with the weight of him. Six months ago, she might have panicked at a male being so close— and being trapped by him as well. But Gwyn had made great strides in her journey to healing, and now, the comfort and trust she had formed with Azriel was unbreakable.

“Not bad,” he mused lowly, flicking dust off his shoulder. “But not good enough.”

“Well, when you’ve got a blade to my jugular, defending myself gets a bit tough,” she choked out, as Azriel lounged on her as though she were a bit of furniture. She rubbed her neck, where a small bead of blood had formed, and wiped it off. It smeared on her freckled skin, but didn’t seem to notice. “Are you going to get off of me, spymaster?”

Azriel shrugged. “I’ll think about it,” he replied dryly,but she could hear the grin in his voice. Gwyn scowled, and rolled onto her side, effectively pushing him off of her.

She laid on her back, staring up at the sky as she panted. “Must you make everything so difficult, Shadowsinger?”

“I doubt your opponent would be any easier on you,” he replied, not missing a beat. It made her want to throttle him. “Well then. Thank the Mother my opponent is only you.” The priestess smirked, and Azriel had the nerve to look mock-offended. “Lucky me.”

“Lucky you,” he echoed, with a twinkle in his hazel eyes. Gods, he was handsome, Gwyn thought, sitting up. She drew her knees to her chest, resting her chin atop them. Azriel sheathed Truth-Teller. Gwyn watched silently, chewing on her lip. He stretched his wings momentarily, shaking them out as though it were a sore muscle. He looked so peaceful, Gwyn thought, as the sun shone through his wings. It made the reds and blues dance, and illuminated every vein and curve. The hair that looked raven black most days now looked reddish-brown in the sunset, which cut his features in a most handsome way.

Even sweaty and tired, he still managed to be so damn handsome. Azriel was distracted, thankfully, and so Gwyn could take a moment to take in all his features. She sighed softly. She was falling way, way too hard. But Mother knew she’d die before she admitted it.

Azriel must have assumed she was tired— which in truth, she was— because he glanced in her direction, and announced, “We can stop for today. It’s close to dinner. I’m sure you’re hungry.” He pulled himself to his feet, offering her a hand. The shadowsinger then paused, looking down at his scars with a frown, and began to withdraw. His shadows thickened.

No.

Gwyn’s hand shot out to grab his, gripping it tightly. Azriel blinked, the only indication of his surprise, and hoisted her up alongside him. She dusted herself off, then stood up straight. The two of them stood mere inches from each other, practically chest-to-chest as the Valkyrie looked up at him. “If— if you’re up for it, I wouldn’t mind another round,” she heard herself saying. Wait, what? The priestess amended quickly, stumbling over her words a bit, “I um, I had a late lunch. With Nesta. So I wouldn’t… I mean, only if you want to. I’m sure you’re tired of training.”

ꕥ

Azriel didn’t want Gwyn to leave. Not really. Nor did his shadows, really. So when she had asked for an overtime lesson, he felt a bit pathetic about how his heart seemed to skip a happy little beat. His shadows were clearly elated; a moment ago, they had been swirling with the blackness of his insecurity, and now? It was like watching an excited puppy pace back and forth. They danced and darted, and it took all of his control to wrangle them away from Gwyn. They shot towards her, curling around her arms and waist in a misty embrace. She let out a laugh, the sound ringing beautifully. Every smile, every giggle: it was all carved into his mind. A brand, a disarming he was glad to accept.

Gwyn’s lips twitched upwards. “Is that a yes, then?”

Azriel scratched the back of his head nervously, looking away from that piercing teal gaze. “I suppose it is,” he replied. The spymaster was a bit surprised at himself, really, surprised to see how relieved he was that she had asked. And Gwyn, it seemed, was relieved as well. She exhaled, letting her shoulders sag a bit, and chuckled. His eyes caught on the bit of exposed skin her white tunic had revealed, admiring the splatter of freckles on her collarbone. Her skin looks so damn soft, he thought, as his shadows once more crept out to caress her skin. They settled on her shoulder, and she tilted her head to rub her cheek against a tendril. She grinned at him, her lips curling back to reveal that bright smile of hers. With this priestess, he swore he had found religion in an entirely new way.

Azriel shook out his hands, then clenched them into fists and got into a fighting stance. He narrowed his eyes, studying her. Where would she strike first? How would she try to trick him? She seemed to be doing the same, because she had a damn smirk on her face that the spymaster couldn’t help but return.

“What?” She laughed, as they circled each other. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because that’s how you’re looking at me!” He replied, with a snicker. Gwyn’s foot pivoted ever so slightly, and he anticipated the punch that was thrown seconds later. Ducking low, Azriel managed to avoid that swift hook of hers, throwing one of his own.

“I am not!” The priestess protested, using her padded forearm to block his hit, then raised her knee and slammed it into him. Azriel let out a loud “oof”, stumbling back a step. He clutched his side, praying she’d take the bait. “Yes, you are,” he said between exaggerated pants. Gwyn did as he’d hoped: she raised her other leg to strike his uninjured side. Faster than lightning, his shadows wrapped around her ankle, suspending it mid-air.

Gwyn’s eyes widened, and she looked at him in disbelief. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” He asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. When the Valkyrie was yanked to the ground, she let out a cry of frustration, slamming her fist on the mat. She propped herself up on her elbows, squinting up at him.

“You know, you make it especially difficult for me to like you sometimes, Spymaster,” she scowled, as Azriel crouched down beside her.

“You and I both know that’s a lie,” he drawled. He couldn’t help but tease her, especially considering that he had beaten her in mere seconds. “I thought you wanted another round.”

“I did,” she replied, then suddenly, her leg swept out and smashed into his. He went toppling backwards, losing his balance and falling on his ass. “We’re not done yet.” Gwyn grabbed hold of his forearms, trying to grapple with him. They were a tangle of limbs and fists, tossing battle strategy out the window for an all-out brawl. It was a rare moment for Azriel, one where he decided that, for once, he’d have a bit of fun.

ꕥ

Gwyn was laughing once more, as they rolled around on the mat like warring toddlers. She wasn’t a small woman by any means, standing only a half foot shorter than he, but she was thin and flexible, which meant trying to grab her was like trying to catch a summer breeze. Grappling with each other alone in the ring, Azriel tried his best to pin down the nymph, but that only seemed to encourage her more. Those tricky fingers of hers now began tickling him, and Azriel’s eyes widened.

For the first time in what felt like ages, he giggled.

The Spymaster of the Night Court was giggling. He was chuckling at first, which evolved into a laugh, which then turned into an eruption of giggles and guffaws. He flailed his arms, trying to push her off. Gwyn was absolutely stunned. She’d never heard such a sound from him; Mother, he barely even reached a dozen decibels. But now? Now his shadows swirled about them, rippling from each laugh that escaped those perfect lips of his.

Gwyn was seeing stars, and it wasn’t because of the approaching twilight.

“Stop— No, not there!” He managed to choke out, grinning like an idiot. Tears came to his eyes as she attacked his abdomen, his underarms, his neck.

“No,” Gwyn shouted back, with a devious smile. “You’re a feared Ilyrian warrior who kills great beasts! Can’t you fight off the Tickle Monster?” But Azriel was too overcome to respond, trying to push her off and retaliate by attacking her sides. The priestess clambered on top of the male, sat atop his hips as she straddled them with her thighs. Finally, she managed to pin his arms to the floor, leaning over him as he gasped for air.

Azriel’s wheezed, letting out a chuckle. Gwyn had him pinned by the wrists, and although he could escape if he tried, he didn’t want to. Because he had realized the position they were now in.

And he liked it.

Gwyn seemed to realize too, because her face turned even redder than her hair. She was straddling him, and she could feel every inch of his body, the soft bulge that pressed in between her legs. The bulge that was slowly hardening as it absorbed the heat of her. The priestess swallowed, his hands still pinned above his head. Azriel made no move to escape, looking up at her like— Like he wanted her.

His hazel eyes, usually dark and brooding, were sparkling like the night, focusing all of his raw emotion on her with an intensity she didn’t think she could handle. There was mischief in his gaze; there was affection.

His lips parted slightly, and he inhaled slowly. Was he smelling her? Oh Mother, could he smell her? Gwyn swore silently, realizing that her own scent had changed from its usual flower sweetness to something smoky, and tangy. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to trap the heat she was feeling down there.

He missed nothing, glancing at her hips and then back up at her face. Gwyn bit down on the inside of her lip. A strand of her hair had fallen from behind her ear, and she tucked it back. With one hand now freed, Azriel lifted it. Hesitantly, he set it on her thigh, scanning her eyes for permission. All she did was offer a barely perceptible nod. He slid it up higher, to the curve of her hip. They had gotten closer, their faces inches apart as her hair curtained their faces. The shadows around them had thickened, wrapping around Gwyn’s waist and neck.

He wanted her badly. There was no denying it. The spymaster had felt desire for Elain, but what he felt for Gwyn was magnetic. She made him laugh, made him smile. She would be the destruction of every wall he had painstakingly built, and gods, he welcomed it. Those teal eyes of hers were foggy, darting up and down his body. The priestess was stunning. He loved every state of her: her robes, the dress she had worn to Nesta’s mating ceremony, how she looked after training. Even when she was a sweaty mess, the afterglow of her rosy cheeks made his heart skip.

His hand trailed that path from her hip to her thigh, as they stared at each other in silence. There was a humming in his head, a euphoric feeling he only got from faerie wine. Gwyn bit her lip, an action that set him aflame, then cupped his cheek. Her thumb traced his cheekbone, running over his lips and parting them.

“You’re beautiful,” she said absentmindedly, and Azriel blinked, a bit taken aback. He let out a soft laugh.

“I’m beautiful? I’m a male, Gwyn.”

“And?” She challenged. “Males can be beautiful.” She lifted her chin, letting out a hum. Her fingers brushed over the cleft in his chin. “They all say you are.”

“Who?” He asked, his voice soft, low.

“Anyone in Prythian with a working pair of eyes. You’re quite popular, you know,” she mused, her voice smooth as silk. Azriel’s shadows toyed with the strands of her hair, brushing them gently.

“Am I popular with you?”

Gwyn was quiet for a moment, and he worried he’d overstepped, withdrawing his hand—

“Yes,” she said quietly, placing her palm over his. He froze. “Your shadows are too. Or rather, I am with them.” She glanced around them, to see the cocoon of night that had formed, contrasting the setting sky. Azriel hummed his agreement. Gwyn paused again.

“You're our favourite,” he quipped quietly, and that seemed to make her blush deepen. Gwyn gulped, looking around as though trying to grapple for something to say.

“So, uh, does this mean I win?” the Priestess stuttered. She motioned to their position, snapping Azriel out of his trance. He blinked in surprise, before his face contorted into a devious grin.

“Not a chance.”

He shoved her off him, and she fell backwards laughing, kicking his chest.

And then the fighting started all over again.

[1000dactyls]

usually, when someone thinks of linked universe, they don’t think about katy perry. however, her hit song “last friday night” is actually a perfect linked universe song, as each verse of the song corresponds to a link’s adventure and individual struggles. despite its peppy beat, in this essay i will prove how “last friday night” is actually a song made for linked universe, a legend of zelda au created by tumblr user jojo56830.

the opening segment of “last friday night” corresponds with the link of breath of the wild, nicknamed wild. the singer describes the act of waking up:

There's a stranger in my bed / There's a pounding in my head / Glitter all over the room / Pink flamingos in the pool

wild, who struggles with his failure of defeating ganon 100 years ago in breath of the wild, cannot reconcile his “past self” with who he is. he, too, also wakes up in a bed in a weak state, as he starts the game with only three hearts. the last two lyrics also describe the landscape of breath of the wild, which is strange but wondrous as well.

the next verse corresponds with warriors, the link from hyrule warriors. as the singer continues (warning for mentioned alcohol):

I smell like a minibar / DJ's passed out in the yard / Barbies on the barbecue / This a hickey or a bruise?

the second and third lyric can be interpreted as the many people who arrive from different timelines to warriors’ hyrule, one of the problems he confronts in the war of eras. moreover, the last line also references cia’s obsession with warriors, as while she is an enemy in the game, she is also in love with him. thus it makes sense if she gave him a wound that is either one made from violence or from her obsession with him.

continuing in the song, we get the lyrics:

Pictures of last night ended up online / I'm screwed, oh, well / It's a blacked out blur, but I'm pretty sure it ruled / Damn

this verse goes to sky, as his legacy as the chosen hero—or in this case, “pictures”—end up influencing the rest of the legend of zelda series. he himself feels immense guilt toward the situation, which would align with the “i’m screwed” lyric. the “blacked out blur” also references his tendency to sleep, due to his reoccurring nightmares of the imprisoned, so the chance to sleep properly “rules.”

skipping a section of the chorus, we end up getting to the titular portion of the song:

Last Friday night / Yeah, I think we broke the law / Always say we're gonna stop, whoa / This Friday night, do it all again / But this Friday night, do it all again

this applies to the entire legend of zelda franchise, as the hero must bend the rules sometimes in order to complete his quest: sneaking into gerudo town, kidnapping the princess, etc. moreover, the cycle repeats, despite everyone’s efforts; “this Friday night, do it all again” would imply the beginning of the cycle once more.

now in the second set of verses, the singer talks about the issues they have with recalling the night before:

Trying to connect the dots / Don't know what to tell my boss / Think the city towed my car / Chandelier is on the floor

this verse applies perfectly to twilight, as he struggles to figure out the mystery of the hero’s shade/midna’s identity/why he is in hyrule castle’s dungeon. “don’t know what to tell my boss” can also reference his struggle to confess that he is the wolf to the villagers of ordon, or how to tell time that he is the hero’s shade. the third lyric also references time and twilight’s familial connection through epona: if time is the city and “took” epona, then twilight follows back his origins to lon lon ranch.

continuing on, we also get to the verse which describes the hero of legend’s adventures:

Ripped my favorite party dress / Warrant's out for my arrest / Think I need a ginger ale / That was such an epic fail

legend, who has gone on a fashion adventure in the game “triforce heroes” as well as having different sets of protective tunics, is also the only link who is technically wearing a “dress.” he is also the only one who has a plausible warrant for his arrest, as he kidnaps the princess in a link to the past; he also has a bad relationship with the hyrule knights. “think i need a ginger ale” would describe legend’s averse nature to going on another big quest, given how tired he is of all the ordeals he’s gone through, and “that was such an epic fail” could reference his biggest guilt: Koholint, which he failed to save the inhabitants.

we get another repeat verse in the song at this point. this one describes hyrule, as:

Pictures of last night ended up online / I'm screwed, oh, well / It's a blacked out blur, but I'm pretty sure it ruled / Damn

the first two lyrics describe his dilemma in zelda 2, where if he sheds any blood, ganon’s minions will be able to resurrect him. this is only due to hyrule’s previous adventure, aka “pictures of last night”, and he is “screwed” because of this. further, “blacked out blur” could reference either his origins in zelda 1 (getting the sword from the cave) or waking up the zelda in the second game. not only that, but this verse is also a pun; “pretty sure it ruled” can reference his hero’s title, and that he is also implied to become the future king of hyrule in zelda 2 by fulfilling the prophecy of waking aurora up.

as previously stated, the chorus applies overall to the adventures of link the hero and the continuous reincarnation cycle that occurs throughout the games. now we arrive at the bridge, where the singers chant “T.G.I.F” six times. this is a reference to four, as there are four letters for the four parts of him. moreover, much of four’s adventures revolve putting a stop to someone’s evil schemes, such as vaati. thus the “thank goodness it’s Friday” chant, or “TGIF”, would represent the end of vaati’s shenanigans.

this is the end of individual verses which apply to specific links of linked universe; however, every instance of “Think we kissed, but I forgot” in the chorus is time talking about Malon. the “I forgot” references his past relationship to her in ocarina of time, while the “think we kissed” refers to their current relationship.

so while our minds may not initially jump to Katy Perry when we think of linked universe, we shouldn’t be too hasty to rule her songs out. as “last friday night” has proven to be incredibly applicable to linked universe and describing each link’s individual struggle, thus explaining why it is the perfect song for linked universe.

[cloudstarcats]

Icarus (And in the End)

There is a cliff Roman visits when he needs stillness. It is a cliff where he goes to try and grow. Where he tried to achieve more. where he changes where he decides, "Does Thomas still need me?"

Fandom: Sanders sides Ao3 link

Warnings: Roman angst, negative self talk, things get sad

(Inspired heavily by the song "Icarus" by Bastille. I recommend you listen to it before reading)

In the Imagination, there is a cliff. The cliff stands above an ocean, and from it, you can see the entire imagination.

Roman’s castle, his small towns, the hut and cave of the Dragon-Witch, the cove of shells made when Thomas watched Ariel- where an underwater kingdom would come up to talk and trade and live with a seaside village, a city of bird people, an elf outcropping.

You could see Remus’s tower, his kingdom of orcs and people whose eyes glowed red, blue, rainbow, whose sky was changing constantly, the cities of plague, the train station and industrial district of Hades town, the salon filled with men and women Roman swore were succubuses, his grotto of poison plants and sunlight, the Naga cave for Janus, the graveyard for halloween, and days on.

You could see the borderlands, the large castle in the center that housed two flags- a green flag that looked torn apart by war and a red flag that always looked pristine, almost metallic. The city that spanned below it, the crest on the gates that faced the Cliff- a shield with a sword facing point to the ground behind it, a castle of three turrets and a large tower in the shield’s design, a crown holding the shield and sword and all of it together.

Roman loved the cliff. Loved the fresh air, loved watching the world from here- because it didn’t feel like he was watching it from the eyes of a god, a creator, as one would assume from the height advantage. He felt… small. Small and real and distanced in the land he and his brother made. He loved watching the merfolk in the coves, the Kraken playing with the smaller mers, the pirate ships that docked and invaded and traded, the bustle so quiet and muted. He loved the sun shining against him, loved the rain when it poured or drizzled, the sunsets, the sunrises, the twilights and magic hours and golden hours and everything in between.

The cliff is the place he went for stillness, for quiet, for when he couldn’t name the feelings in his chest, for when he didn’t know what to do. It was the place he went to grow, the place he went to achieve more, the place he changed at. It was the place he went when he and Remus had split. It was the place he went after Thomas was heartbroken, before Patton came to comfort him.

So after the newest episode, after he had apologised to Janus and left before receiving a reply, after he had walked for what felt like hours and nothing at the same time, he stood at the cliff.

When he and Remus were young, they gave themselves many different things. Additions, traits, dyed hair and colored eyes, in the Imagination anything was possible. Remus had liked the red eyes he already had, and so he let them shine the color of blood, much to Roman’s amusement when they started to actually bleed- which his twin fixed right away.  Roman had green eyes and he kept them, but he made them more vibrant- to match Remus’ new costume.

“What next?” Remus asked, hanging from their wardrobe by his knees, in the bedroom that once held a large bed and now held two bunk beds. He tilted his head and Roman shrugged, huffing out a breath.

“I don’t know! Ughhhh this is so annoying~!” Roman whined, flopping down into a pile of plushies they’d both added to, groaning. Remus watched him and giggled, then his eyes brightened and he squeaked.

He dropped off the wardrobe and jumped on Roman, making him let out a muffled “oof-”. “I know! Wings! And tentacles and hands and everything we could put on our backs!” The older creativity grinned, eyes shining.

Roman pushed Remus off him and rolled over to look at him. “Tentacles?” he asked, and Remus nodded, eyes sparkling as he nodded up and down. “Yeah! Like a Kraken! Can we make a Kraken?”

Roman shrugged. “I guess, I mean the lake is empty..” he mumbled. He glanced at the glass door that led to a balcony. “You could make it an ocean- it would fit better,” he suggested.

Remus nodded and waved his hand.  “Yeah yeah, I can do that later-” he waved, standing up and walking to the large mirror on the wall, twirling around and eyeing his back- wearing a black shirt with puffy sleeves and silver accents and a green sash tied into a bow at the back- a mirror image of Roman’s version in white, gold, and red- only Roman’s sash wasn’t tied in a bow and he didn't have puffy sleeves like Remus.

“Right now- I wanna have tentacles!” he grinned and snapped his fingers. Eight green tentacles appeared on his back, shiny and an emerald green- flecked with gold, matching Roman’s eyes.

Roman gazed at them, eyes wide. “Woah… bro they look perfect!” he grinned, popping up to poke them. “Woah! They’re squishy! But not slimy..?”

“Should they be?” Remus asked, and Roman shrugged. “In that case- I think I’ll make them slimy later, it’s your turn now!” he smiled at Roman and spun around to look at his brother.

Roman blinked and shrugged, looking down. “Oh uh… I don’t think tentacles would look so good on me,” he sighed. Remus tilted his head as Roman thought a bit, and looked outside at the lake- soon to be ocean- and saw a flock of birds.

“Do wings!” he exclaimed, and Roman looked back up, Remus smiling widely at him. “Bird wings! You’ll look like an angel!”

“But I don’t want white wings!” Roman whined, pouting. “They're not… enough. I want them to be eye catching and shiny and cool like your tentacles!” he explained, and Remus hummed, plopping down to sit on the floor.

“What if they were… gold?” Remus asked, tilting his head to the side. Roman paused and thought a moment before nodding.

“You're smart, Re-Re,” he hummed, looking at him with a smile, and he snapped his fingers. A pair of golden wings appeared on his back, feathers soft to the touch, but still sleek and shiny metallic.

“Woah! They're so shiny!” Remus breathed, eyes sparkling as he got up to touch the feathers, running a hand through the feathers with a rather gentle touch. He grinned wider and Roman giggled at the contact.

“Ah! They’re ticklish, Re!” he whined, and his brother’s grin morphed into one of delight.

“They are?” he asked, and Roman backed away, laughing as Remus crept towards his twin, eyes sparkling as his hands and tentacles raised. “So if I-”

“Remus~!” Roman screamed and laughed, running away to avoid his twin as they two ran around the room- Remus trying to catch and tickle his brother while Roman laughed and stumbled around with his wings, attempting escape. The two didn’t stop laughing for hours, and Roman was caught. By sundown, both had fallen asleep in Remus’ top bunk, a pile of limbs and tentacles, two golden wings draped over them both like blankets as they slept.

Roman gazed at the ocean, the view beyond, thinking of that day. He shifted his wings, the same gold of years passed. Pristine, shiny, regal like a statue- a prince.

“You’re my Hero.”

He ignored the tears gathering in his eyes.

“Thank god you don’t have a mustache Roman, otherwise, I wouldn’t know who the evil twin was!”

The princely figure swallowed, he could hear the others calling at him, yelling for him to come down, but he steeled himself and looked past and up to the sky, at the sun. A breeze rustled his feathers, missing his hair. As it left he exhaled slowly, eyes closing for a moment as a tear tracked down his face, dropping to the ground quietly.

He would do this. For Thomas. Always for Thomas.

On the ground, the group watched Roman spread his wings, the gold of his feathers reflecting the sunlight around him, making him look like a shining statue, too incredible to be real.

“Roman! Stop-!” Virgil screamed, eyes widening as he saw what was to happen before the others, and he started to run, as if that could stop the inevitable.

It did not stop a single thing. Roman jumped off, ignoring the screams, the only noise was the wind in his ears, his wings beating as he flew. The sun shone on his face and he reached out, wings gliding across the air, the wind rushing in his hair and through every feather, and for a moment it was good. For a single, perfect moment where Virgil’s lungs couldn’t dare let out a scream, where Patton’s eyes gazed upon Roman’s face, heart stopping, where Logan could see the yearning shining in Roman’s eyes, even from a distance, it was good. In the mindscape Janus could feel a stillness, and he paused, turning his head, a tug in his chest, and Remus paused what he was doing in the living room.

“Remus..?” Janus asked, seeing the other side pause, the crazed look dying in his eyes like a fire burning out.

“...something is wrong,” he said softly, in a tone that scared Janus- because it was soft, scared, wounded, dead. He looked up and his morning star fell to the floor- a soft thump, no explosion, no nothing- and he swallowed. “I.. I can feel it. In my chest,” he whispered, hand rising to grip at his top- and he looked away. “Roman.”

Janus felt his heart stop. “Roman…?” The ego. The thing Janus meant to protect. He could feel it curl in his chest, like vines growing around his lung, not invading them, but a presence- a weight where there was none before.

The two sank out and went to the imagination quickly, leaving an empty living room with a morningstar lying on the carpet, an unnatural stillness filling the air.

~~~

It was a small stutter. An inability to go on. An insecurity.

As he drew closer to the sky- to the shining sun- his wings failed. Stuttering to a stop, frozen in time like something had hit them, he was struck from the sky. His lips parted and he stared up at the sun as he fell towards the ocean under him, feeling his tears leave his eyes. He closed his eyes, smiling weakly at the sky before he plunged into the sea back first- Virgil's strangled scream following.

“No! Roman-!” He screamed, pushed to a sprinting pace as he raced to the cliff’s edge, tugging his jacket off before he dove into the sea below.

“Virgil-!” Patton screamed- following the other and reaching out for him, but Logan pulled him back  and into his chest, feeling Patton breakdown against him, his shaking sobs rough against his chest. Logan only stared, rubbing Patton’s back, the cold tears trailing down his face unfelt- he was numb.

In the water, Virgil swam down, trying to catch up to Roman’s rapidly sinking form. When he first dived in he was scared he’d miss the prince’s form, that Roman would sink to the bottom and Virgil would fail. He realised, as he swam down, this would not be the case.

Roman was too bright, too magical, to ignore as he sank down. The sunlight filtering through the darkening abyss below them caught on his wings, reflecting golden sunlight that swam across his face and made the water glow around him- as if he radiated pure gold and sunlight. His wings cupped him, his hair framing his face and floating across his skin, nearly covering his closed eyes. His lips were parted, and Virgil could see the last bubbles of the air that followed him as he fell down slip away- just as a bubble of air left Roman’s lips.

Virgil’s heart raced and he kicked harder, hand reaching out for Roman’s form like Roman’s had reached for the sun only moments ago, unable to entertain the idea, the mere thought, of Roman dying here. Not now, not ever, he couldn't allow this, he couldn't allow Roman’s grave to be here, his death, his early death- he couldn't.

Virgil reached, desperate, tears disappearing in the water surrounding them. He wouldn’t allow it.

In Roman’s mind, he remembered when Remus left him. He remembered when he didn’t speak to him, when he ignored him and glared. Remembered how he said he hated Roman, how he shoved him away when he got closer, when he tried to talk to him. How he was crying but he left anyway. How he left Roman alone in their childhood room, a room meant for the two of them, his gold wings dull and eyes filling with tears as he gripped a paper in his clenched fist. Remembered looking at the drawing he’d made for Remus, and later going to the side of the mind Remus claimed, scared and alone, and slipping the drawing carefully under the door of a tower that loomed above him like a warning to stay away.

Roman remembered leaving this morning, remembered the odd looks at him in nothing but his usual attire, no sword, when he told them how he was going on an adventure. Remembered Patton’s worry over his lack of equipment- but he didn't need it where he was going. Even when he said that, Patton’s face did not relax, and Logan’s brows knit together as he attempted to understand where Roman meant to go. Remembered leaving the room and sighing softly, pulling out a letter he then slipped under the door. Remembered waiting, why did he wait, till someone took it and he heard the paper be unfolded before he left, turning his back, wings fading into existence.

Logan led Patton to the shoreline, the beach, for stability. Logically- the only way he could think, his emotions overwhelmed and not yet processing; logically he knew when Virgil came up, he had to, he had to, that he would swim to the beach.

In the water, a hand grasped Romans shirt. On land, eyes watched the water, and two minds let themselves hope.

Quiet filled the world for a moment, only the sounds of the shore and the stillness of the air and Patton’s soft cries could be heard. That was before Virgil burst out of the water, a loud crash and a gasp, dragging up with him a familiar head of brown hair and two limp, golden wings, trailing behind and filling the water with sunlight that didn’t belong.

~~~

Virgil swam towards shore, dragging Roman’s limp form with him. The prince’s lips were tinted blue and his skin was pale, a faint bluish purple tone to his fingers. Virgil kicked harder, gasping for air with the effort of dragging them both to shore from the cold waters. His legs burned, like his lungs, holding his breath so long had hurt more than he expected.

As he got closer to shore, Remus and Janus appeared from the woods nearby. Remus ran into the water, meeting Virgil halfway as he helped the other drag Roman’s unconscious form to shore. They pulled him up enough that the water only just touched his feet on the bigger waves, spreading him out so his wings had room; they dripped water and the gold was dull, no longer reflecting the sunlight as brightly as it did below the waves.

Patton and Logan stumbled over with help from Janus, whose face was ashen and eyes just a bit wider than normal. Patton kneeled besides Roman, holding his hand, Logan next to him, eyes still wide and almost unseeing, a hand on Patton’s shoulder as the moral side cried softly.

Remus moved to hold Roman’s head in his lap, eyes wide as he stared at the other- his unnatural silence disturbing and heartbreaking. He didn’t tear his eyes away, tears beginning to form in his eyes. Remus never cried, they would realise later. Then again… Roman had never looked so dead before.

Virgil looked at Roman’s limp form, face screwing up in anger and sadness. Hot, angry tears filled his eyes and he took a shaky breath. He gripped the fabric of his shirt, swallowing thickly.

Janus looked to him and bit his lips, eyes troubled and brows furrowed. “Virgil..” he said quietly, but the other cut him off.

“No,” he hissed. Virgil took a shaky breath. “Wake up, you idiot!” he snapped at Roman, glaring at the prince’s form. “Wake up you dumb, stupid, annoyingly sing-y idiot-” with every word he moved to hit Roman’s chest with the side of his first, but the actions were desprate and not meant to hurt like an attack, “-Wake up!” he sobbed, anger fading to show sorrow.

Janus reached out to touch Virgil’s shoulder as the anxious side cried, but Virgil slapped his hand away, eyes wide and red, his eyeshadow trailing down with his tears. Janus drew back and watched Virgil stand up and walk to a tree, shaking. The anxious side screamed and punched the tree, making Patton and Janus  flinch in sync at the loud thuds that followed.

Remus gazed down at Roman and bit his lips. “...Wake up,” he whispered, voice fragile, unheard by the rest of their small family. “...I can’t… I can’t lose you..” he said quietly, tears starting to roll down his cheeks as he bowed his head more, closing his eyes as sobs began to build in his chest.

Then Roman moved. His chest convulsed and he coughed, and Remus’s eyes shot open to see his brother struggling to expel the water filling his lungs. Remus quickly helped Roman to roll over, and Patton let go of Roman’s hands as he turned. The prince coughed out the water, left panting as Remus carefully rolled him back to his original position, eyes wide. Virgil had heard the coughing and rushed over, kneeling besides Roman again with wide eyes.

Remus bit his lips. “Ro-Ro?” he asked softly, and Roman looked up to his twin, vision swimming and fading at the edges.

“..Re…?” he mumbled, voice raspy.

Remus smiled a little and nodded. “Yeah,” he said quietly. He sniffled a bit and drew Roman up, hugging him tightly. “Don’t do that again, you idiot,” He whispered, closing his eyes.

Roman nodded a little, and slowly managed to wrap his arms around Remus, wings curling around the other weakly. Patton moved closer and gently hugged the two twins, and Roman looked up, brows furrowing.

“Pat..” he whispered, and the moral side smiled sadly, nodding.

“I’m here kiddo,” he whispered. “We all are,” he murmured with a gentle smile, reaching out and petting Roman’s hair, watching with a gentle smile as he melted, nuzzling into the hold.

Logan came up and hugged Roman as well, Virgil and Janus following, till Roman was wrapped in the warmth of everyone’s arms. The Prince sniffled softly, and he closed his eyes, relaxing. Feeling safe, Roman let himself fall into unconsciousness, secure in the thought that he was safe with his family.

~~~

When the group did return home to the mindscape, it was quiet. Remus took care to hold his twin, whose wings were wrapped around the other carefully, and Remus didn't complain despite the wetness of his twin. Patton held Virgil’s jacket, walking with the anxious side as he took care to check on his hands, which were bleeding. Janus and Logan walked together, both quiet, keeping an eye on the group. Janus would glance at Logan, and his eyes never lost their worried look despite the fact Roman was no longer sinking and instead in the arms of his brother.

Patton and Remus helped to get Roman cleaned off and into warm clothes. The prince didn’t wake up as they worked, and Remus carried him to bed, curling up with his twin. Patton got a few blankets, and watched Remus start to card his finger’s through Roman’s feathers, grooming the golden wings.

As the two took care of Roman, Logan went to make them all some food, soup, while Janus helped to bandage Virgil’s hands. Virgil was quiet and didn’t speak at all, and the mood was morse. When the food was done, the three joined Patton and Remus in Roman’s room to eat.

As they ate, they talked. Remus told them about what happened when he and Roman stopped being close. Patton confided that he felt horrible for the split. Virgil murmured about his suspicions of Roman’s struggle. Janus talked about what might have caused their issues. Logan worked through a list of what they could do. At the end, they decided to set up a schedule to watch the Prince and make sure he recovered, and none of them felt comfortable not watching over Roman. The prince was weak, and at best they could all assume that whatever had happened had exhausted him, and he’d be sleeping for a while. So they started their daily rotations.

Every few hours and every night it was someone new. When Logan sat with Roman, he would read poetry to him in a quiet voice, calm. Other times, he would sit there quietly and hold his hand, tears slowly working their way down his face. Whoever switched with him wouldn’t bring it up, but when he returned to the common room, Virgil would hold out an arm and let Logan curl up next to him, and put on a documentary about the coral reef. Usually, Patton was next to check on Roman, and would spend his time reading books, talking about cooking, baking, telling dad jokes to a quiet room. Sometimes he would trail off and crawl next to Roman, petting his wings and holding his hand. Sometimes he fell asleep like that. When it was his turn to switch, he’d be woken up and would go back to the kitchen, quiet. Logan usually helped him bake, and Remus would help make Patton smile again.

Virgil usually went next, and he’d mostly spend his time sitting on the bed or the desk, listening to music. Even if he looked relaxed, his posture was just a bit tense. He never closed his eyes too long, and every so often he’d check Roman was breathing. When it was his time to switch, he’d leave the room and go to the couch to put the documentary back on. Janus followed next, and he was quiet as he sat with Roman, for ten minutes at least. Then he would talk, talk about the sky, tell small stories of dumb lies, talk about how sorry he was for what he said, how sorry he was to mislead Roman, how sorry he was he failed- for not doing his job and protecting Roman. Sometimes he wouldn’t even sit by him, he’d curl up next to him into his side and warmth, falling asleep.

Remus was last, and he always spent the night. He would curl up next to him and let his tentacles curl around Roman, he would groom his feathers and mess with his hair. He would talk about the day, talk about the ideas that came to mind, talk and talk till he fell asleep curled around his brother.

Recovery was… slow. It took a couple of days, days filled with worry and a house that was just too quiet, too still. The morning that Remus woke up to see Roman’s green eyes staring back at his was the day things began to get better.

That was the day Roman was basically attached to Remu’s side, wings curled around the other as he was carried around from his room to the commons for some food and cuddles. That was the day Roman and Janus apologised, and Janus promised that when he nodded, he was confirming that yes, Roman was Thomas’s hero, no matter what. That was the day Roman let the others pet his wings as he cuddled Remus, who was warm like a furnace in comparison to Roman’s slight natural chill, and melted at the contact he’d avoided for ages. That was the day that Roman was reminded he was loved.

The day after was the day Remus and Roman moved back to sharing a room, the day Remus teased Roman and they ended up running around to the others amusement, laughing and hiding and ending up on the top bunk, Roman laughing as Remus tickled him till they both fell asleep for a midday nap. That was the day Patton and Roman made dinner later that night, and they all curled up on the couch for a documentary, and Roman went to bed feeling loved.

The day after, Roman and Janus talked wing and scale care, and Roman felt loved. The day after, Logan and Roman discussed Roman’s wings as well, and Logan asked if he could fly high enough to see the stars, so they did, and Roman felt loved. The day after, Virgil, Roman, Remus, and Janus spent a day doing face masks and their nails and telling spooky stories before they fell asleep in a pile of pillow, blankets, and golden wings; and Roman felt loved. And the day after that, and the day after that, and the days that followed- Roman felt loved.

And yes, they argued, they fought, they had bad days. There were days Roman and Remus couldn’t stand each other, days Janus pushed a button, days Logan and Roman got in furious debates and screamed till their throats hurt, days Virgil would glare and hiss and Patton wouldn’t know an answer and they would all fight, days everything felt awful and bad and Roman wondered if they still loved him.

But even on those days Remus would slide into Roman’s bottom bunk and they’d cuddle all night, Janus an Roman would talk and have self-care spa days, Logan and Roman would spend hours writing poetry and finalizing stories, Virgil and Roman would talk about Disney movies and criticize the classics in their onesies, Patton would make cookies and talk to Roman and they would sit and cuddle. Despite everything, they would always remind Roman they loved him, and in turn he would as well.

And in the end, recovery took a while. Roman would have bad days, they all would, but Remus was never shy to remind him that he loved him, Janus would offhandedly drop a time for secret meeting (aka, their spa time), Logan would ramble about his wings, Patton would give him an extra hug, and Virgil would offer a small smile, quiet and solitary but it carried the meaning. “You good?”  And Roman would smile back. “Yeah. I’m good.” In the end, they were there for him, they were his family.

And in the end, Roman was loved.

[fuckit-hero-of-trains]

Alone Together 1 Year Anniversary

I’m a little bit late, but its officially been 1 year since I began writing Alone Together. It’s been a wild ride and honestly? I wouldn't be here without you guys. This project has really transformed my whole view on writing and with your help, has made me a more confident author and for that, I am so very very grateful. I love all you guys so much and hope this next year of writing has just as many twists and turns and emotional conversations as the last one!

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to finish chapter 8 to celebrate. However, here is a preview of what’s to come in the next chapter!

There are sounds that Four has come to dread.

Some, Four resents for practical reasons: The sharp and resonant ting that white-hot metal sometimes makes as it enters the quench, as much felt in his gloved hands as heard over the hiss and spit of oil. It is the tinny sound of microcracks ringing into existence, fissures forming as the pressure of hot hammer hammer hammer hammer hot cold becomes too much for the worked steel.

It's a horrible little sound, really. Almost pathetic if it weren't so devastating.

Hours of work gone and shattered not with a bang, but with a whimper.

Other sounds Four dislikes for more personal, but no less rational reasons.

The ringing of Hyrule Castle’s clock tower still sets his teeth on edge even all these years later, his stomach dropping down to his boots as the sound of the third bell tolls through his bones.

Gale force winds clattering at the slats of his windows still causes him to flinch, though not hard.

He had conquered the wind before– twice before, if anyone was keeping count. Which he is– but he can't stop the knee jerk reaction to it regardless.

Voices dropping down to whispers as he turns a corner still causes him to collapse a little into himself. Forces him to make himself even smaller than he already is. Like if he just kept his head down and hood up, hunched his shoulders a little higher, walked a little faster, he could become unintrusive enough to not to cause a marked difference in the volume of Hyrule Town just by buying carrots.

...

Like he said. Rational reactions to… personal aversions.

But then there are sounds that part of Four knows with utmost certainty that he has no reason to fear. Childish little things that set his blood pumping, his lungs stuttering, his stomach plummeting. Dumb little irrational nothings that he knows, he knows, shouldnt have an effect on him.

And yet…

Well, that's just it, isn't it?

And yet, at night, when the coyotes send their giggling screams of joy to the moon, despite being surrounded by the walls of his house or by the sleeping bodies of his fellow heroes, Four feels ice drip into his blood and his stomach fill with stones, like he’s the helpless little thing being chased.

And yet, there is something in an echo that eats at him. That steals the breath from his lungs at just how lonely it sounds. Truly and utterly alone, with nothing better to do than parrot back words stolen from someone else’s throat.

And yet the clap of shattering glass feels like taking a stone to the head, wiping away all logical thought in a singular spike of pain. It makes him whirl around, desperately searching for the source of the noise. And only then, when he sees that it's a dropped teacup or an incident with a ball and a window… only then does his body and mind let itself uncurl.

And yet–

“Four.”

The smallest hero feels the flinch roll through his shoulders before he can stop it. It rolls through him despite himself. Despite knowing this was coming. Despite the fact that he had been preparing himself for it for days, knowing it was coming once they had enough time to rest after the battle with the Hinox.

In his hands, the whetstone he was carefully gliding across the Four Sword whines to an abrupt halt as he turns to address the older hero.

From above, Time sends him what Four suspects is supposed to be a placating smile but which looks most like an uncomfortable twitch of the lips.

Regardless, it doesn't help. It looks too… comforting for the conversation they're about to have. Too nice. Too soft. Something to lessen a blow before it’s even thrown.

Because it is going to be thrown.

“Would you help me gather some firewood?”

It’s framed as a question.

Four knows it isn’t one.

So he nods. Puts his whetstone back in his bag. Sheathes the Four Sword, takes comfort in it’s weight against his back when he straps it there. And then he takes Time’s outstretched hand, allowing the older to help him up.

Without another word, Time turns and begins to lead the way out of the clearing they’ve set up camp in and into the shade of the forest.

Four glances back at the others.

They look… Well, the smithy would never use the word peaceful to describe his fellow heroes. Hyrule is sat under the shade of a tree, eyes closed, shoulders relaxed, and breaths even as he meditates. Beside him, Legend holds a needle and thread poised to begin mending a tunic.

Or, at least, he would be if he weren’t pointing the needle threateningly at Wind, who dangles from the branches of the tree they’re sitting under, holding what looks to be a bottle of chu chu jelly over Hyrule’s head, smirking as he prepares to pull the cork.

A little farther away, Warriors and Sky seem to be engaged in a heated argument regarding birds of all things.

Both had been the most heavily injured after their fight against the Hinox– Sky had managed to dislocate both shoulders by desperately clinging to the Master Sword embedded in the beast’s forearm even when the monster viciously tried to dislodge him while Warriors had suffered a broken femur thanks to an entire tree being thrown at him, Hylia, Wild’s monsters were really something.

Thus, even after a round of potions and some of Hyrule’s rosie, crystalline magic, the two were sat up in their bedrolls, wrapped in restrictive bandaging and forbidden from helping set up camp, apparently leading to the two having nothing better to do than argue about whether or not cuccos were “a blight upon all of Hyrule,” as Warriors was emphatically arguing.

Beside the bickering heroes, Wild and Twilight are attending to dinner, the two chatting as they chop and toss vegetables into a pot of bubbling stew. It must be going fairly well– and it always does with Wild at the helm– because the mouthwatering smell of cooking onions, garlic, and celery permeates the clearing.

Wild glances up midway through a laugh, and locks eyes with Four. In a second, the humor falls off the other’s face, his eyes flicking quickly between the smithy and the retreating back of Time in question.

Need help? His eyes seem to ask.

And though the other had promised to be with him, to help him with this conversation when it happened, Four slowly and deliberately shakes his head.

Wild has helped him enough. Has helped him run through what he wants to say. What he needs to say. To defend himself. Or, at least, help Time understand his point of view.

And as much as he would love for Wild to be here, to see him use what the other had taught him… something tells the smithy he should do this alone.

Or, at least, as alone as he ever is.

So he flashes Wild a grin that he hopes is more placating than Time’s and turns back toward the forest. He takes a deep breath. Lets it fill his lungs to bursting. Lets it buoy him up. Lets it raise his shoulders from their hunch and straighten his spine.

Well this should be fun Don’t say that We’ve practiced for this Remain calm Here we go

He lets the breath rush out from between his lips in a woosh, forcing himself to relax. To calm his beating heart, the whirlpool of emotion in his stomach, the itch in his scalp, the urge in his lungs to breathe faster.

With hands more shaky than he’d like, Four adjusts his headband, tightening it to the edge of discomfort.

It’s irrational to be afraid of Time.

Four knows that.

And yet, as he squares his shoulders and strides into the dark after the older hero, Four can't help but feel the twinge of fear that nestles itself deep into his chest, watching, waiting, listening, for the perfect moment to go for the throat.

[fanfictionwritingoddity]

𝙎𝙪𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙣

 ( 𝙽𝚎𝚓𝚒 𝙷𝚢𝚞𝚞𝚐𝚊 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 )

Neji Hyuuga was always so traditional. You supposed it was a trait deriving from being a part of one of the great ninja clans. Even when you met him at the tender age of thirteen, his behavior had been nothing short of disciplined. Back then you thought he was an uptight asshole who needed to be knocked down a few notches. You were sure he knew this, but still, the ever stoic until snarky boy had made no comment on it.

After a year of your team and Guy’s team collaborating, you began to learn more about Neji. His character developed in your mind from that of a stuck-up jackass to... someone else. Lonely, filled with a longing to be free, with a pinch of anger. Your mind had swirled and twisted, attempting to make sense of the boy who grew on you so quickly. 

Trapped. Neji was trapped. Sealed into a fate he had no choice in from birth. He was lonely. Friends had never come easy, but he wasn’t even sure if there was a point in making them. Cracks began to form in his perfectly crafted persona, inklings of emotion you thought you would never find leaking through.

He reminded you of the moon. So adored and appreciated by all of the stars around him but still so, so alone. The Hyuuga had a unique glow, one of a kind in its nature, coveted and abused. Like the moon, Neji was jealous of those who could so easily find partnership in their surroundings. 

So, you released those petty pent up feelings. You had been kind to him in the past year, sure, but there was always the underlying aggression that you had done your best to suppress. The next two years spent within the presence of your fellow ninja were different. You began to understand everything about him. The things that made Neji tick, the traits he had inherited, and his formation as a person. 

To him, you were the sun. A girl with an ethereal shine that flowed through every fiber of her being. Shining on each and every person you interacted with, Neji felt undeserving of such a privilege. The boy felt that your kindness and tolerance was better wasted on some other pitiful case, his having been closed since his first breath in this world.

He knew that you had started off hating him. Most people did. Everyone who ever laid eyes on the brown haired male passed judgement before he could even meet their gaze. Carefully creating his character the way that he did was a double-edged sword. On one hand, it allowed him the solitude he forced himself to crave. On the other, it pushed away any chance at finding companionship.

Except for you.

You had given him another chance. As if you had x-ray vision, you had been able to see right through Neji’s terrible excuse for a defense. And instead of laughing, instead of continuing to feel any sort of disdain for him, you gave him a clean slate. Your change in behavior coaxed the Hyuuga to begin to open up. Like a flower just beginning to bloom, petal by petal and word by word, you learned more of the boy who was oh so traditional.

And you fell. Hard.

You couldn’t help yourself. Neji’s words had a way of inching themselves into your heart and settling, comfortably making their home there. His rare words of support and gentle encouragement tattooed themselves in your mind, leaving a trail of butterflies in their wake. Sixteen now, these feelings were becoming much more prominent in your life, affecting your day to day tasks when paired up with Neji. You hoped he didn’t notice, but the realization that he most likely did was daunting in nature.

Of course Neji noticed.

How could he not? Your face heated and heart sped up whenever he was close to you, your knees just slightly beginning to shake and your eyes straining to look anywhere but him. For some odd reason, your adoration towards him made him feel... happy? Unused to these emotions himself, he had done much research on what could have caused them to arise.

Neji Hyuuga was in love with you.

Your existence brought color to a world that he had sworn would always be grayscale in tone. The boy had learned more about himself from you than he could’ve ever hoped to learn anywhere else. He learned that his favorite color was the shade of your hair and his favorite sound was the chime of your giggle. The weather he loved most was when it was slightly breezy but warm, because you always seemed to enjoy those days more than others.

It was a breezy summer night when he had chosen to confess the feelings that had been eating away at him for a year. Now that he thought about it, Neji was sure they had been there before, but only recently had he given them a name.

You had been invited out to the field by Neji, assuming it was for some late night training. A gentle breeze tickled the tree leaves, touching your cheek softly as it danced by. Crickets chirped their greetings and conversations, fireflies beginning to blink in the distance. The moon was full tonight, you observed. Not a cloud was in sight, and the stars had just began to peek their way through the twilight blanketing the sky.

Warmth blossomed in your chest as you remembered the days when the two of you would train all evening, only to pass out in the tall grass under the landscape of the night. You thought for a moment, wondering if you had understood how enamored you were with the Hyuuga at that point in time. Gravel crunched under your feet as you approached the field.

It seemed Neji had arrived first. His white, lavender tinted orbs were trained on the sky above. Taking a second to stare at the man, you swore if you squinted you could see the outline of the boy he used to be, so closed off and silent. Sensing you, Neji tilted his head your direction and traced his gaze to your face.

You waved, a smile on your lips as you made your way over to him. The long grass tickled your legs, wrapping around them as if to try and halt you in your pursuit. Small dots of black flashed in the undergrowth as crickets leapt away from your steps.

“The moon is beautiful tonight.”

Carefully chosen words left your mouth, eyes trained on the glowing orb. Neji didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. You knew by the way he followed your gaze and by the slight upturn of his lips that he agreed. For a moment, everything was tranquil and quiet. The sky reveled in your undivided attention, twinkling and shining with all of its might.

“Y/N, what exactly are we?”

Blinking in surprise, blood began to rush to your cheeks. Bravery was necessary for your answer, and it took a bit to muster it all up. You turned to the man beside you, heart speeding in your chest as you responded.

“What.. do you want us to be?”

Neji seemed taken aback by your question, as if he had expected for you to be the one with the answer. Red crept to the tips of his ears and his cheeks. His throat suddenly felt dry, parched by the heat of confrontation of years of feelings.

“I would like to court you. I.. I mean. I would like.. for you.. to be my girlfriend.”

His answer was awkward, eyes glancing to the side as they swept over everything except your face. You knew he was trying, and your stomach twisted with butterflies. The confession was everything you had hoped for and more. You wished the young girl that had been so off-put by the Hyuuga’s presence could see you now, nearly combusting over his feelings.

“I would like that. A lot.”

With those words, you moved forward, pressing a kiss against Neji’s lips. He kissed back instantly, as if your moves had been premeditated. It felt like fire and ice had clashed, but instead of creating destruction, something new and amazing had been made. The kiss was sloppy, inexperienced and filled with unknown passion and feelings, but it was perfect.

And it was yours.

[unmaskedagain]

Five boys the Batfamily scared off (And the one boy who helped Marinette get revenge on them all)

This is actually based off a prompt/ask I got by #vixen-Uchiha

Okay, believe it or not, I’ve in history of all my days writing fanfiction (I just turned 27 and have been writing since I was sixteen); I started when Twilight was still at the height of its popularity. (All that work has been deleted, burned, and doused with holy water; don’t ask questions) But even with almost a decade of writing fanfiction, I never even considered approaching this fanfiction classic.

Until now.

Wish me luck. And don’t judge me too harshly.

Note this was also inspired by a poem I loved called To the Boys Who May One Day Date My Daughter by Jesse Parent

 Marinette always knew Tom was her step-father. Sabine and he married when she was three after all. And while she considered the great cuddly bear to be her dad, she still had a great relationship with her actual father: Bruce Wayne. And all her brothers and Sister.  She spent every summer with them and every other Christmas in Gotham. She loved her family. She just wished they take a chill pill.

And stop scaring away her freaking boyfriends.

Lê Chiến Kim: The Boy who swears Marinette’s related to the Boogieman

           If anyone asked Marinette now if she would ever date Kim, she’d have died of laughter. Kim was like a goofy cousin. They were great friends. Their moms were best friends. She just didn’t see him like that.

           However, it wouldn’t have been so funny to six-year-old Marinette who ran from school with a Daisy in her hair and a big smile her face.

“Daddy, Daddy,” She’d squeal to her Papa later that day. She barely noticed he was still wearing bat uniform, except the mask. Or all her brothers were with him.

“Hey Sunshine,” Bruce smiled lovingly at his youngest daughter. “You have a good day at school.”

“Give ‘em hell, firecracker,” Jason called from the background.

           Tim and Dick laughed. Bruce just shook his head amused.

“I got a boyfriend!”    

           Silence.

           That day would forever be known as the day all the smiles died. Seven-year-old Damian just blinked in confusion. He didn’t know what had happened but he knew it was bad. And that it involved his sister. Was she in danger? Did she need help?

           Before Bruce could process or respond to his precious, baby girl, who was way too young to date (And what the hell was Sabine thinking?). Dick literally pushed him out of his chair like it was nothing. “What’s his name? Who are his parents? Where does he live? And where can I find him right now?”

           Marinette, being too young didn’t notice the threat in her eldest brother’s voice and the look of murder in his eyes, had no problem telling Dick all about her best friend Kim, who was super nice, and gave her a Daisy, and kissed her cheek.

           When the call ended, Bruce brought up the picture of the boy in question. A nice-enough looking boy to most, but he knew the truth. He knew the evil in his heart.

I have been waiting for you, Bruce thought, not just to Kim but to all the boys who would day date his daughter, since before she was even born. Before you took your first steps, I was preparing to make it so you’d never walk again.

           However, Kim was still just a child. He needed a kinder touch. He looked back at his children: Dick, Jason, Cassandra, Tim, and Damian, and made his choice.

           When Dick showed up to walk her to the school the next day, Marinette didn’t think to question how her brother got from Gotham to Paris so quick. (Cough, misuse of Zeta beam). Or why he was dressed in all black with a scary biker jacket on. She just shrugged and let him help her tie her shoes and carry her bright pink, hello kitty, and backpack.

           He held her hand the entire way to school, where Kim and his dad were waiting by the doors. Kim had another daisy in his hand that he gave to Marinette.

“This is Dick,” Marinette introduced her brother. “My biggest brother. This is Kim, my boyfriend,” Kim preened. “Look, Dick, Kim got me another daisy.”

           Dick beamed at his sweet little sister, “I see. Hey! Isn’t that you’re friend Rose? Why don’t you go show her?”

“Okay!” And she ran off.

           As soon as she was gone, Dick’s smile quickly disappeared and he glared at the little Casanova, and his father, who felt like someone had just walked over his grave.

“My sister is a little young for a serious boyfriend,” Dick hissed. “Don’t you think? Don’t want her to grow up too fast, right?” The two could only nod in fear. “Good. Don’t hurt her. Don’t make her cry. Because I’d hate to have to have another talk with you, Chiến. It might not go as… nicely.” And with that, he left to go find his sister, leaving two terrified people in in wake.

           That conversation would be the reason Kim broke up with Marinette over recess but to the girl’s dismay and why the boy wouldn’t allowed to date for another ten years.

           Looking back Kim would swear darkness and shadows started to fill the schoolyard. That Marinette’s older brother’s voice got deeper and his eyes turned completely black. He had been a living nightmare, one that would haunt his dreams for years.

Marinette wouldn’t get another boyfriend for years.

 Chat Noir aka Adrien Agreste; The Boy who just didn’t want to Get Neutered

           Marinette never considered Adrien or Chat Noir her boyfriend. He had been her best friend, her partner, and for a long time, her crush. However, before Marinette found out who was behind the mask, and he earned the title of her best friend in the whole world.

Chat Noir had the title of Guy who can’t take a hint.

           They had been just thirteen at the time. Chat had been spending for more and more time flirting with Ladybug and joking around then actually taking the fight seriously. And when he wouldn’t get the response he wanted from his Lady, he’d pout or throw a tantrum and storm off. It had been getting to be a real hassle. And as much as she liked Chat, she had been seriously considering Master Fu’s offer of getting her a permanent partner to replace him.

           Then one day if all change. All the silly behavior, most of it anyway, and the constant flirting all stopped and never started back up. It would take Marinette months to find out why.

           Unbeknownst to Marinette, her Papa, Bruce had been keeping a watchful eye on the deteriorating situation. The flirting, his daughter’s frustration, the lack of care. It had to be stopped. Chat Noir had a few lessons to learn.

           Bruce glared harshly at the image of the cat-themed Superhero. He was proving to be a useless partner for Ladybug. And a prime example for a sexual harassment claim. “You’re sure you can handle this,” He asked son.

           Damian scoffed, “I will teach that alley cat the true meaning of fear.”

“Go.”

           When his son was gone and Bruce was once again alone in the Batcave, he smirked darkly at Chat Noir and all other boys who would come and go. “When you were still playing war in the school yard, I was perfecting headshots. You can’t catch up at this point.”

           One night, after a particularly hazardous fight with an Akuma, Chat Noir had been running home when suddenly everything went dark.

           He woke up, tied upside down, and gagged. For a few moments he thought Hawkmoth had finally gotten, wondered if this was the end.

           When a sword pressed against his throat, and a chilling voice whispered in his ear, “Care to find out just how many lives you really have, fleabag?”

           At the moment, Chat Noir no longer wondered if it was the end. He knew it was.

           A boy, Robin, he realized glared fiercely at him.

“I should kill you,” Robin sneered. “I should rip you limb from limb and leave your head mounted on a spike to show the next fool who thought he was worthy of my sister’s hand. Ladybug is too good for the likes of scum like you.”

           Chat Noir gulped. Sister? Ladybug was Robin’s sister. Adrien’s eyes widened, that meant Ladybug was Batman daughter. He was going to die. He was just going to disappear and his father, or most likely Nathalie, wouldn’t even notice until he failed to show up for his next appointment.

Gorilla would notice though, Adrien thought, he’d miss me.

           Robin pressed the tip of the sword to Adrien’s face until blood was drawn. “You will cease your incessant flirting with my sister. You will train harder for your battles. And you never, ever, leave Ladybug to fight alone again. Am I clear?”

           Adrien nodded his head earnestly. He’d never flirt with anyone again, he swore. He wouldn’t even celebrate Valentine’s Day. Or anything.

“And if for some miracle,” Robin hissed, “My sister deems you suitable to date, you will treat her will respect. You will never touch her without permission. And if you hurt her, Consider my genes a mark of Cain; you will suffer seven times whatever you do to her.”

           Chat Noir whimpered.

           A smoke bomb later. Chat Noir’s bonds were released and Robin was gone.

           It took a long time for him to stop shaking.

           He never flirted with Ladybug again. He worked harder and became the partner she deserved.

           And when Adrien discovered Marinette was behind Ladybug’s mask, he only managed to stumble a little.

           However, when Marinette told him that her brothers was coming for a visit; she couldn’t understand why he paled and stuttered out excuses for photoshoot he never mentioned before in far, far away countries. That same day, Adrien had his father taken them to Australia for vacation under the threat of Adrien dying his hair pink. He wouldn’t return for a month.

Jon Kent: The Boy who, in retrospect, really should’ve known better.

           Marinette’s first real boyfriend was the son of her father’s best friend, Clark Kent, otherwise known as Superman.  She had been only fourteen and it had been a summer romance while she stayed in Gotham. She had thought Jon was perfect; handsome, kind, funny…

           Invulnerable to most weapons and had amazing healing factor.

           Plus it’s not like her papa would kill the son of his best friend, right?

           Right.

           It had all been going great… until it wasn’t.

“I welcome you in my home,” Bruce hissed at the picture of Jon Kent on the bat computer. “I trained you. I trusted you. And you betrayed me.”

“Let me speak with him, father,” Damian demanded. “He is my friend. He will listen to me.”

           Bruce shook his head, “That’s why I can’t send you. You’re too close to the situation. He snuck past all our defense. Now I have no choice but to do same. J?”

           The Asian girl smirked, “Little Superboy will know dread.”

           Jon had been visiting the fortress of Solitude when… it happened.

           Before that day he had never dreamed the place would be anything less than safe, anything other than secure.

           His dad had just flown off to help someone in Brazil. Jon waited patiently for him to come back while he dreamed of his beautiful new girlfriend. Marinette was amazing, perfect, and the nicest, sweetest girl ever.

           When suddenly he felt a tickle in his throat, and he tried his best to clear it but it just got worse and worse. Until Jonathan Samuel Kent, Superboy (now that Connor was going as Krypton), fell to his knees as he struggled to breath.

           No matter what he did, the more breaths he took, the worse he felt. It was like his lungs were on fire.

“Do not struggle,” A voice said. Jon looked up see Blackbat, Cassandra, standing above him. How did she get into the fortress? Not only could only a Kryptonian open the doors but only a member of El could be let in. It was impossible. “Struggling makes it worse.”

           Jon coughed, “What?”

“The air,” Cassandra waved her hand around. “It is filled with dust. Green dust of Kryptonite. It has disable you and your powers. It’s concentrated. You will not die. The alerts of the fortress were disabled. No one is coming to help you, villain.”

           Jon shook his head frantically. He wasn’t a villain. He wasn’t a bad guy. This had to be some mistake.

“No, not villain,” Cassandra corrected. “Not yet. A thief who thought he could earn my family’s trust and then steal away our most precious jewel; our princess. And do it without consequences. I am here to teach you better.”

           Superboy flinched at her words.

“You will not pressure my sister,” Cassandra hissed. “You will be the gentleman we believed you to be. If you cheat on her, I will ensure you never have children. If you strike her, I will know. She will not keep your secret. You can’t make fire feel afraid. And I will come for you. Do you understand?”

Jon nodded, fear in clear in his eyes.

“Good.” She leaned forward, right into the young superhero’s face. “Some say you and your father, your cousin Kara, and Connor, are invincible. That you can’t be stopped. That you are gods among us.” She scoffed. “Let me make this, if you break my sisters’ heart, you will learn, boy of steel, that even gods bleed.”

           And then she was gone, and with her all traces of kryptonite. It didn’t stop the chill that filled Jon to the core.

           It was to no one’s surprise when Superman showed up at the Batcave not long after. “Bruce,” Clark asked with his arms out. “What the fuck?”

           Marinette’s relationship soured when suddenly Jon was too scared to hold her hand, her be alone with her, or kiss her. She got the hint that he just wanted to be friends and broke it.

           She found out a year later what really happened.

Luka Couffaine: The Boy who decided he didn’t want to sing his tune yet.

           Luka had been Marinette’s first serious boyfriend. She was sixteen. They had been together for months and were getting to the ‘I love you’ stage.

           He was cool. He was funny. He was a budding Rock star. He had dyed green hair, tattoos and earrings. Luka went onto tour with his band every summer. He was older than Marinette by two years. He had quite a few previous girlfriends. And he hadn’t been scared off by the normal attempts by his other kids.

           In other words, he was Bruce Wayne’s worst nightmare.

           And the nightmare got worse, when for the first time ever, Marinette was bringing a boyfriend home for Christmas. It was all the confirmation he needed that the things were serious.

           It was why he knew he had to send the greatest soldier he had. Luka Couffaine would rue the day he decided it was good idea to ask his princess out. “Are you ready?”

           Tim nodded. “I’ve done my research,” he declared. “I know what makes him to tick. I. Will. Break. Him.”

“Excellent,” He drawled out the word like it he tasting fine wine. Not caring at all that he sounded like a superman.

“You really think he’s a threat, dad?” Tim asked. “Because I can take care of it. I can have him eliminated. Ra's al ghul owes me a favor. It’ll look like an accident,” He promised. “It’ll look like he just… disappeared.”

A sense of pride filled Bruce. Tim was his most capable and resourceful soldier. He would make a great batman. Any of his kids would.

Batman stared the picture of the boy on his phone as he fought the urge to crush it in his hands. “No,” he finally answered. “I’ve known plenty of rock stars and so called bad boys in my day.  Angel’s smart,” he said using Marinette’s codename. “I have been routing out indifference apathy from her life, her childhood was filled with love and affection. There are no daddy issue for his teenage talons to latch upon. Just… make sure he understands who he is dealing with.”

“Understood.” And then call ended.

           He looked up and saw all the other Justice League members staring at him with expressions of awe, fear, and confusion.

“…Marinette’s got a new boyfriend, huh?” Diana asked when the call disconnected. Amusement in her tone, she knew Bruce would never seriously hurt a kid.

“Poor guy,” Barry said with a shake of his head.

           Clark pinched his nose, “You can’t keep scaring guys away from her forever. Eventually, she’s going to find one who isn’t afraid of you.”

“And then she’ll marry him out of spite,” Dinah added.

           There were snorts from the other league members.

“Like that’ll ever happen,” Oliver said with a shake of his head. “That kid would have to be the biggest moron in the universe. I’ll pity his family.”

           Marinette had constantly warned Luka about how overprotective her family was. Luka hadn’t thought much of it. He dealt with overprotective fathers and brothers before. Eventually they grudging begin to like him. Or realize that if they actively hated him, it would just make the girl get attached.

           He was excited for Christmas, excited to prove himself to the girl of his dreams, and impress her by dealing with her entire family. Luka didn’t understand why Adrien looked so afraid when he told him. Or why he asked what type of flowers he liked.

“For the funeral,” Adrien shrugged. “I need to know what to buy.”

           Luka had laughed, thinking the blond was joking. He had already met a two of her brothers; Dick and Damian. They had been growls and threats but nothing he couldn’t handle. But Adrien didn’t laugh. He just shook his head and promised he’d be there for Juleka. Luka thought he was overreacting.

           However, nothing. NOTHING. Could have prepared Luka for the first time he met Tim.

           Luka had been walking home with Kagami, his long-time friend and one-time rival for Marinette’s affection. It was board daylight, there were tons of people around, and then they had made the apparent mistake of walking by an alley, when suddenly they were pulled into the back of a van, hoods thrown over their heads, and their hands bounds.

           He didn’t know how much time had passed. Or where they were being taken. All he saw was darkness. All he felt was fear. Was this how died?

           When the hoods were finally removed, the two teenagers found themselves in what looked to be a deserted warehouse, bound to their chairs, with a teenage boy not much older than they sitting across from them, looking absurdly comfortable given the situation.

My name is Timothy Drake-Wayne. I am Marinette’s older brother,” He said. “Let me make something clear before we begin. The last hour never happened. This conversation never happened. We never met. And if you say otherwise,” Tim’s eyes narrowed.  “No one will believe you. I was just by dozens of witnesses in Mexico with my boyfriend less than two hours ago. But if you do tell anyone, there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

           They nodded not daring to say a word.

“Luka, Luka, Luka.” Tim smiled an eerie grin that should look more at home on the monsters from Horror movies, and not on such a handsome face. “I hear you’ll be visiting us over the holidays. Must be so exciting for you, meeting your girlfriend’s family. Are you excited, Luka?”

           Luka swallowed hard. He never thought he’d hate the way his own name sounded. “I was- I mean I am. I am.”

“Good,” Tim said. “I just wanted to offer you a bit of advice. So you can know to expect. You see it call all be a bit… daunting to newcomers. Some people don’t understand the Wayne family’s unique tastes. Okay?”

           He nodded.

           Tim still smiled. In fact he never lost his smile the entire time. Yet his eyes were empty like there was no real life in them. “When you first come to my home, you will see the bone carving over the doorway. It will be hard, but try not to imagine your own femurs so expertly carved.”

           At this Kagami’s eyes widened. She had done her best to remain calm but somethings were too much.

           Tim smile widened, “There are one or two rooms you will not be allowed in. However, accidents happen and we understand. But we do ask that you pay no attention to our… ample crawl space. Or the smells that can sometime come from it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luka stuttered. “Sure, no problem. Man.”

“Try not to go into Father’s playroom,” Tim continued on. “It will be easy to spot. It’s mostly empty, apart from a rubber mat and a drain. He gets so testy when stranger go in there. You’ll hear strange noise from time to time but just ignore them. That is just father… playing.”

           The green-haired boy just stared. Because what the fuck.

“Just follow that advice, and you should be fine,” Tim promised. “Though you are a pretty one.  You both are. And we like pretty ones. Oh the things we do to pretty ones”

Luka whimpered. Kagami felt tears build in her eyes.

           Tim laughed, “Now, now, none of that,” He said channeling his inner Brucie. “We’re not going to hurt. We’d never hurt Marinette’s friends.” He promised. “We would hurt people who hurt Marinette because people who hurt Marinette are not her friends.”

           Red Robin looked over the two, “What I’m trying to say is. Break my sister’s heart, and we will kill you. I will kill you. You won’t see if coming. You won’t know we’re there. And if you’re lucky, you might not even feel it. Clear?” They nodded. “Excellent. Now you’re going to leave the same way you came. Remember not a word.” He smiled got even bigger.

           They felt hands on their shoulders.

“Oh and Kagami,” Tim’s voice rang. “Should romantic feelings spring to life between you and Marinette again, just know our sister Cassandra is much scarier than I. And a much better shot.”

           Then the black hoods and complete darkness came gain.

           When they were finally let go, in the exact same place they had been taken, neither Luka nor Kagami spoke for what seemed like forever. Their minds still wrapping around what had just taken place. However, it was Kagami who finally broke the quiet.

“Well, it appears I dodge a bullet, huh,” She shrugged, her face not betraying the fear she still felt. “Sucks for you. I’m going to go propose to Chloe. I know can I take her mom in a fight. And that she’s not a serial killer.” Kagami then gave him a grave look. “Happy holiday, Luka. I’ll send best flowers to your funeral.” And the she was gone, literally fleeing down the crowded street, leaving Luka alone with his thoughts and sense of his impending doom.

           He broke up with Marinette an hour later.

           It would take weeks before he would willingly be in a room with her again.

Kaldur'ahm: The Boy who regretted ever walking on land.

           Marinette had met her next boyfriend through her brother Tim. Ironic, considering she had just found out what he did to Luka. She had gone in for some extra training with the Black Canary when she spotted him. Kaldur; aqualad. Marinette had never talked too much with him before but found he was a very calm person and level-headed. A good leader, no matter how much Tim complained.

           They had spared together one day. And another. And Another. Then he asked her out. It was sweet… While it lasted. And it didn’t last long.

           Batman had looked at Kaldur’s picture, scoffed, and said, “Jason?”

           The sound of a gun clocking was heard, “Little Mermaids going down.”

           Unlike his brothers, Redhood had no time for mind games. He went for the quickest route.

           Aquaman burst into room where the justice league meeting was, “He shot Kaldur,” He roared to Batman. “The Red Hood shot Aqualad!”

           Bruce didn’t bat an eye, “Is he alive?”

“Yes,” The King of the seas said quickly. “But that’s not point.”

“Seems like it is,” Bruce said and went on with the meeting leaving a stuttering, red-faced Aquaman still standing there.

It was to one’s surprise when Kaldur dumped Marinette and was gone. Disappeared to the safety of Atlantis. And when he came back, Marinette was barred from Young Justice Headquarters.

It was on that day, that Marinette Dupain-Cheng-Wayne decided enough was enough.

 Roy Harper-Queen: The Boy who should start making better life choices

           It was weird to say but Marinette met the boy who would turn out to be the love of her life when she was ten-years-old. And then sometime after her eighteenth birthday, she would team up with his clone to go rescue him. They became friends, went on missions together. It was a year later that he asked her out.

           Roy was pissed at the world, ready to die for anything if it meant he’d went fight, had a rude mouth, feared nothing and no one, and didn’t play by anyone’s rule but his own. In other words, he was perfect.

           Marinette just never meant to fall in love. She certainly didn’t expect to say yes when proposed.

           They had been keeping their relationship a secret from both their families for over two years. They were happy together. They loved each other.

           But more importantly, they could plot revenge together.

           And revenge was sweet.

           It all played out during a Justice League meeting. Roy, Red Arrow, and Ladybug had been full members for quite some time. The meeting was just about to close, when Roy stood up, “I have an announcement to make,” He said. “Red Arrow will be withdrawing from missions for the perceivable future. As will Ladybug,” He looked at Marinette who nodded firmly.

“What’s going on, Roy?” Oliver asked his once wayward son, with a frown.

           Batman eyed them suspiciously. As did the other members of the batfamily, all were present. Apart from Alfred because Marinette liked Alfred.

           Wonder Woman frowned, “Are you going solo again, I thought you were happy.”

“We’re fine. We’re very happy,” Roy said slowly before taking a deep breath and doing the bravest thing he ever would in his entire life. “Ladybug’s pregnant and I’m the father.”

           A few seconds passed before the words were processed in the Superheroes mind.

           Bruce’s eyes widened, his mind stopped working, and then a snarl ripped form his throat as he moved to attack. The batkids joining him.

“Alpha Code Angelbug” Flash shouted.

           That was all the other league need to go into defensive positions around Roy, against the batfamily. Marinette remained where she was with glee in her eyes. Superman stood in front of Roy, blocking him from view and potential danger.

           The Flash, Cyborg, Black Canary, Wonder Woman, and the Green Arrow stood in front of them. Oliver aimed at arrow at Batman, “Don’t move!” He yelled. “Don’t you dare move, Bruce. I’ll do it. Roy’s my son. And I won’t let you hurt him.”

           Batman growled, “He. I. My daughter!”

“Get Roy out of here, Superman,” Wonder Woman ordered. “We’ll hold him off but we can’t do it for long.” She stepped towards Bruce. “Marinette’s a grown woman. She makes her own choices.”

           Dick shook his head, anger clear on his face, “Dude, you were my friend.”

           Damian snarled, “Harper’s a sneak and a coward.”

“No honor,” Cassandra agreed.

           Jason just looked at his best friend, “I love you…. But you’re dead.”

           Tim just growled.

“No one’s dead or dying,” Marinette said as got up. “Because I’m not pregnant,” She said loudly, drawing everyone’s attention. She walked to her boyfriend and pulled him out from behind his shield. “But Roy and I have been dating for almost three years. And we’re getting married. You can be happy for us. Or I can never talk to you again.”

           Roy grinned, “Pops,” he said to Oliver, whose face was torn between relief and fury at it was prank. “We thought you and Bruce could be the main wedding planners. With the rest of the Queens and Waynes helping out; you know now that we’re going to be family. ”

           With that the two lovebird left the room, leaving the chaos they had created.

           Silence filled the room as Batman and Green Arrow stared at the other.

           Oliver gulped. He let out a breathy chuckle, “So I think a wedding in Star City would be great. Lots of Lilies. The Queen family loves lilies.”

           Batman’s eyes narrowed, “Gotham, roses.”

           Black Canary crossed her arms, “Star City would be safer.”

“Gotham is far more beautiful,” Tim snapped back.

           And just like that, battle lines were drawn. Justice League members’ face turned weary.

           Whether they knew it or not, that was Marinette and Roy’s last act of revenge.

           Forget Batman vs Superman.

           Try Bruce Wayne versus Oliver Queen: billionaire against billionaire, father against father. Elsewhere, thousands of journalist, photographers, florists, and caterers trembled and they didn’t know why.

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Our Nightly Confidant 4

War Games

Warriors needs fresh air.

The hand resting in the crook of his elbow is soft, but its grip is threatening to cut off the blood circulation to his hand. The pain has steadily numbed as the ladies exchange thinly veiled insults about this or that province and this or that financial ruin.

He used to like this.

The attention, the admiration, the glory! When did it start to taste like ash in his mouth?

If his queen heard that thought, she'd have another one of her brutal truths for him. 'When war stopped being a game and became a duty.'

When he realized that not even being the Chosen Hero of Courage would shield him from the game. That it made him twice the target every other soldier was. When the bodies of fallen comrades couldn't go past the numb exhaustion that took him every evening.

“Lady Farosh, Lady Ordonas, if you'll excuse me for a second...” he says, flashing them his flashiest smile.

Lady Ordonas brings out her fan to hide her rosy cheeks and agrees with an obvious giggle. Lady Farosh, whose fingernails are on the verge of piercing skin, delays her reply by the barely polite amount of time.

“Oh, Captain Link, you cannot abandon me so swiftly,” she tries, eyes flickering to her father, an esteemed general in discussion with Impa.

“But of course not, only a second to freshen up.”

The instant she releases him, he pulls away and bows. Though, despite his instincts screaming at him, he doesn't run a straight line for the glass doors of the Queen's ballroom. Lady Farosh would take it as an insult. He weaves through conversations, dropping the minimum expected of him here and there, snarks at a Legend that looks ready to murder Lord Lonnayru (and Warriors wishes him to succeed), never touches a drink or bite offered that he did not pick for himself, and eventually reaches freedom.

The cool night air is a balm on his skin as it strokes his hair and face.

Even the small, military tents he's slept in during the campaign didn't feel half as stifling as that ballroom. And some of the tents, he couldn't even stand up inside!

Above, the moon shines its silvery glow down to the garden's fountain. With the ball in full swing inside, no one walks the peaceful path of stone amidst the roses and the arches. Shame. It's a beautiful place. His first stroll there had been a pleasant experience, though not his first conversation with his queen. Impa had chased away the rest of the escort and glared the patrolling guards into submission. Any attempt to bargain had been met with stony silence and a dare to prove themselves worthier of the Queen's protection than her Sheikah general and mentor.

Warriors stops by the hedgerow. If he focuses, he can see the spot where Zelda sat down, where she picked a rose for him, and pinned it on his breastplate.

They had had hopes for the future. Have. He still has hopes. Don't get him wrong. But he's a little more tired than he used to be. Where had the time gone?

'Captain Link, I must introduce you to my daughter.'

Must. Must. Must. Always a 'must', never a 'may'. Duty traps him and the wild beasts know it. They sniffed his blood long ago, and he can only ever bandage the wound so much before it becomes infected.

Traipsing around with the heroes of previous eras is a blessing and a reward that Hylia offered him. A thank you, he feels, and perhaps the beginning of an apology.

“You shouldn't be out there on your own, Captain Link.”

Those are normal words, spoken with careful reverence. Nothing about them should bring his walls up this quickly. But Warriors is no longer accosted by the common soldiers. Hasn't in a long time.

The cracks on his heart spread just a little further. Deeper.

“Someone might try to hurt you, sir.”

The reverence is gone.

And the spear points straight at his chest.

He doesn't have time to bring out his sword.

A snarling mass of fur tackles the traitor, and by the time Warriors can react, the cry of fear stops abruptly. In its stead is a steady gurgle, a fading wheeze. A limb that thuds against the garden grounds.

Warriors doesn't flinch. He's seen worse.

Once his prey has been deemed sufficiently mauled, Wolfie turns to him, muzzle dark with blood, and worry clear in his eyes.

“Good boy,” he says, absentminded, a hand ruffling through the beast's sinfully soft fur.

It's a testament to his companion's state of mind that no warning growl responds to the familiarity. Warriors doubt he would hear it anyway. He's staring at the dead body.

The guard was young. Maybe... Hyrule's age. He must have hated the war, if he'd gone to the front lines. Hell is hardly enough of a description for the dance of bodies and hacked limbs. He had probably lost a brother or a father or a cousin to the fighting, if he was earning his keep in the Queen's castle at that age. Maybe Impa had taken pity on him.

“Simple-minded fools who can't resist basic mind magic,” Warriors repeats, a wobbly chuckle in his voice.

Wolfie noses his hand, and the little shock of cold and wet jolts enough that he can avert his eyes from the traitor. Defeated, the events of the night all playing on loop, he drags himself to a secluded spot by the hedgerow. One from which he can see people coming, with his back to the branches. Wolfie plops down next to him.

“Mind magic. What I wouldn't give for that to be the case,” he confesses to the wolf-like companion. “Hylia. I'd take cowards over this. I'm not asking them to fight my battles for me. Not even fight by me. Just...”

His fingers curl into his scarf. Holds onto the lifeline.

“I just want to be able to turn my back on the people I protect. Is that really so much to ask for?”

Soft fur fills his sight. He ought to resist the urge. An officer must be strong. Cannot let the soldiers down. Fear spreads like wildfire. One spark, and the whole army goes up in flame.

He knows this.

He knows, and he sobs anyway. Farore, please, just for an instant, allow him to be weak.

He buries his face in Wolfie's shoulder, relishes the warmth and protection that comes from the sacred beast. It doesn't matter that some blood splatters might stain his official knight armors. It doesn't matter that for a split second, he doesn't scan his surroundings for exits, potential ambushes and traps. He gives the taut ropes of tension inside him just enough relief.

Until he pulls back.

Sniffs twice, wipes his face once and plasters the charmer smile.

“I'm alright, Wolfie... I'm alright.”

Wolfie doesn't buy it. Makes an inquisitive little whine. A question.

His hand trembles in the fur. “I am. I will be.”

Wolfie turns, quick not to notice one's tears. Strange for a wolf, but he doesn't pounce on their weaknesses. They trust he never will.

Silly as it sounds, there's more than a few noble daughters in that ballroom that could take lessons in civility from Wolfie. At least, in his presence, he doesn't feel like a bloody piece of meat dangling in front of a pack of wolves. Now, that's irony.

“You know... you kind of make me miss Midna.”

Warriors jumped back when Wolfie suddenly straightened, his eyes laser focused.

“Yeah, I know her,” he said, feeling a hint of a real smile. “We have a statue for her in the Temple of Souls. Hell of a woman.”

His hands went to his sword the second his ears picked up a low growling noise, only to realize it had come from Wolfie. Was... was their canine companion protective of the Twilight Princess? Or, Hylia forbid, jealous? Goddess, that was too cute.

“Shh, don't alert the others,” Warriors said, hands held in front of him in mock surrender.

Wolfie, with very Hylian-like intelligence, puts a paw first on his muzzle, then scratches one of his ears. It's a good point. He'd know first.

Warriors relents before Wolfie starts nipping. He remembers Time's mud bath. “She mentioned you too. Called you her favorite pet.”

He hadn't know what disgruntled looked like on a wolf before, but now he had the perfect picture. No wonder Midna had loved to tease him.

“She went into battle with this shadow spell. Wolf-companions.”

Wolfie's interest shifts into disguised wariness. There are hints that he might like to pull back a bit, but Warriors' hand remains firm on the back of the wolf's neck.

“Called her main one Rinku,” he adds, waggling his eyebrows. “Reminds you of something, huh?”

Wolfie blinks. Then blinks some more. He's almost completely frozen, like he has no clue what to make of that information. Or is trying to choose the right way to react. And when he does, Warriors bites down on a burst of laughter.

The puppy eyes. The good boy smile. It's worrying how they almost work.

Almost.

Warriors keeps a sly grin on his face and waits. He's in no hurry to return inside the palace.

It takes another change of beat in the music coming from the ballroom before Wolfie gives, and shadows swallow him.

“Since when?” Twilight says, sighing.

Warriors' smirk is immensely punchable, he's aware. He loves to live dangerously.

“Are you implying that I would deliberately play dumb so that one of my fellow Hero of Courage would act like a dog when he doesn't need to? That I knew from the very beginning and asked Wild to take pictures for posterity? For shame, Twilight.”

A vein twitched under Twilight's jaw. “No, I wasn't implying that. I was saying you're an asshole, Wars!”

Warriors fails to dodge the lunge, half-paralyzed by muffled chuckles. The momentum throws them on the grass, and there's a split second of disorientation before his back hits the ground, and a weight lands on his chest. A heavy weight. Goddesses be good, the farmer lifestyle paid, huh?

“Twilight, move your fat ass.”

The mullish expression on his brother's face would have made a raging moblin sweat. “No. We're still doing this. I have a great track record, and I'm not letting you narcissistic goatfiddler break it by being your usual self. Talk.”

His eyes widen in alarm. “Really? This is the setup? Me, suffocating, and you, thinking of a place to hide my body. What is this, a deathbed confession?”

“You could have had the amazing emotional support of everyone's favorite wolf. But noooo, you're too good for that, so spill. Better be fast, because I had double serving of Wild's chili. Gives me gaz like thunder.”

“You. Wouldn't. Dare.”

The silent glare he receives is all Time.

Warriors squirming renews. “Farmhand, I will skewer you on the Master Sword myself if you don't-”

“Why would you go off on your own like that? We were all in the ballroom. You could have gotten any of us.”

“Let's not reverse the roles here,” Warriors hisses, one eyebrow raised. “I'm not the one playing double-life around our group. You can't talk about trust when you constantly hide in plain sight. You want trust? You tell me why.”

The boyish, almost light air between them breaks. Guilt blooms on Twilight's face. He can't meet Warriors' gaze and doesn't even try.

“... It's Dark Magic.”

“I couldn't care less. I've fought amongst noble fighters with dark magic and against monsters with the opposite. Next.”

Twilight's ears droop slightly. It's dog-like, and amusingly fitting for a moment of hesitation. Every second that passes without a word hammer the fact that 'dark magic' is the surface excuse for Twilight's shifty dealings about their group. Warriors tries not to be angry. Twilight did just save his life with that very secret.

“I've had...” Lips mull the words for a few seconds. “Mixed reactions.”

Warriors feels himself frown. “Mixed how?”

“You know me, the country boy, raised in the small farmer village lost in the woods. Country bumpkins, the lot of us... You ever heard what they think of wolves?”

His breath hitches. Slow dread creeps on him. He hates the ease with which images come to him. He's never seen Twilight's hometown, never met any of his family, but he's suddenly overwhelmed by the idea of a mob of pitchforks and pickaxes held high, of dogs barking through the woods as a grey wolf scampers. Narrowly avoids a bear trap snapping its deadly maw on thin air instead of a limb. Overhears angry grumbling about making a pelt out of his skin.

They should be farmers, but he sees old faces instead. Soldiers. Commanders. Officers. Brothers-in-arms he's long trusted. Thought he could trust.

“W-what do they know about those majestic beasts?” he says, jokingly because he's afraid to let the mask slip an inch. (It'd fall a mile, shatter too hard for him to ever glue back the pieces.)

“My father threatened to skewer me,” comes the quiet admission, less than a whisper.

Warriors' heart squeezes. “Twilight.”

“Didn't know it was me though,” Twilight adds, failing at even a small smile. “To him, I was just this wild animal circling the village right after most of the children had been stolen. He... he only threatened me. Just words. Nothing like what you had to deal with.”

“The words are the worst part for me,” Warriors hears himself say. “I hear them in my nightmares, even if I forget what they tried to do. Couldn't tell you who came at me with a spear, with a sword, with a dagger. But I see their eyes in the mirror, the hate as they died.”

“The fear. The 'Get back, beast!' and the screams.”

“'It's your fault!'” Warriors repeat, the same tone that echoed in his head. “'You should have died instead!'”

Twilight's face twists, and there's a split second when Warriors thinks his heart will give out. Even the shadows of Twili magic can't compare to the darkness that covers the blue of his eyes. But Twilight turns his head to the side and spits in disgust.

It hits the traitor's cooling corpse.

“Bastards,” he says, venom lacing his tongue. “Should have made that last.”

He says, with blood all over his face , Warriors thinks dryly.

It's a sharp contrast, that violence on him. Twilight has always had that air of earnest, straightforward honesty. One look at him and strangers will put their trust in him without hesitation. He lacks the battleworn scars (at least where it's visible), is old enough to be taken seriously and his bumpkin accent breeds familiarity with most commoners they meet. Warriors himself has to deploy all his charms to get the same results, and he's still being glared at by a lot of the men.

They peg him a charmer, and not without reason.

“I don't like it either,” Warriors says, quiet.

“What?” Twilight replies, an eyebrow raised.

“The knight act, you know.” And before Twilight's mouth can drop – “At least, some of it. The game. The doublespeak. The mask. It all feels pointless sometimes.”

“I... really?” Twilight's baffled words hurt, just a little.

Warriors scoffs. “Yes, really. I'm not meant to play knaves and daggers. I'm a soldier. An officer. I'm meant to be out there, defending the kingdom I love. Inspiring the people to fight back against darkness, to stand up for their lives. To be at the front of an army, to lead as one amongst the great... it's incredible. It's what I was born to do, I know it in my bones. The act is necessary. But by the Goddesses do I wish I could live without it.”

He sees the way his meaning worms itself past Twilight's gaze, understanding dawning on him. “No matter where one goes, huh?” Sheepish ruffle of his own hair. “Is it something in the water?”

“Like they'd lower themselves to drinking water,” Warriors sneers, a smirk hidden underneath. “Wine only, my good sir. And only the finest year, from the finest yard. Vintage, my good peasant, it's all the vintage that shows breeding.”

“They do know that for everyone else, breeding is something you check for your horses and your dogs, right?”

“I... couldn't tell. I've stopped listening a while ago. I just nod and play my handsome part. It is the only use for a Hero once the King of Evil has been defeated, it looks like. I don't know if I even should call myself a knight anymore.”

“Wild was touched, y'know?” Twilight says, looking up to the moon. “When you called him an honorable knight,” he adds with a sigh. “He's always associated his life before the Calamity to knighthood, to that incredible soldier that had trained for a decade before facing his destiny. Someone whose shadow he chased for months, not realizing it's his own. You might have been the first to call his current self a knight.”

“He is!” Warriors near jumps to his feet. “Wild may be unorthodox, but he is a loyal, devoted man that served Hyrule to the best of his ability despite having lost everything but his life to the cause. Most generals in my army could not even measure up to his standard.”

“Should have seen the look in his eyes when I mentioned it.” There's a hint of sadness beyond the pride and joy of this memory.

He hates the curdling feeling that brings forth. “Remind me to knock a couple of heads together next time we visit his Hyrule, would you?”

Twilight's chuckle is fond, gentle. “Yeah, that's what I meant. I never thought to tell him in those words. To me, he was always good enough. But you saw that side of him too. You know what it's like to want it. I can't relate that well to this, but... well, anyone under your command has to look up to a guy like you.”

Hands ball into fists. Eyes drift to the corpse. “Not everyone does. Obviously.”

Twilight bumps shoulders with him. “I'm sorry, pretty boy. I'm sorry these assholes think they have any right to blame you. To resent you. You're an amazing leader. Much better than me. I... I honestly admire you and your skill.”

Warmth settles in his stomach. He can't... For a second, he needs to blink away tears.

“So he admits it.”

There's a wry, wolfish quality to Twilight's grin. “You speak a word of it, and you'll meet an unfortunate fate, Captain.”

“As if anyone but my Queen could make me fall in battle,” he laughs, pushing Twilight's shoulder, hard.

“Careful there.” His brother's grin sharpens, and the returning shove almost sends Warriors crashing into a bush. “You might touch my cursed stone, and then you'd be stuck as your true self. What would your queen think if she saw a plague-ridden rat try to command her armies?”

Laughter bubbles in his chest. “Be happy to send the rat to infect the goat-loving hillbillies before they spread out of their mudholes! Imagine the half-goat, half-hylians that would invade Hyrule!”

Twilight's gauntlets fall to the ground. Knuckles are cracked. “A'right. Someone needs an asswhooping.”

He could not stop smirking if the Goddesses ordered him to. “Bring it, dog-boy. I'll put a collar on you.”

Taunts, past this point, become superfluous. The breath they would waste could be better utilized trying not to die (lose) against this moblin (his brother) and his freakish strength (no, really, he pushes giant metal crates on ice, the goron-born idiot). The honor of Hyrule rests on his victory.

At some point, they roll over in the fountain.

This does not, in fact, stop their roughhousing.

            ��                                       ***

 “Should I ask why you both have black eyes and split lips when no one noticed any monster for miles?” Time wonders at his seconds-in-command. “While we were attending a ball?”

“No,” they growl with a ferocity to chill bones.

“Not fair!” Wind protests, to the nodding of most. “Why did they get to have all the fun?”

Ah, youth.

[sazzafraz]

ects snippet one

I don’t see this bit changing a lot so its spoiler freeeeeee

He thinks of acid and bile first. His tongue is on the points of his teeth searching for the stale carrot taste. Dead bodies in a lake almost make him hungry. Like soup, Kyuubi says, now, should add some salt. Naruto thinks of their families and draws from Konoha shinobi standard what he should do next. The Uchiha graves are the only ones he’s seen up close. Found and burned away by his Sasuke years ago, not yet warded against yin spirits. Those small piles had been lumped together too close to the houses at first and then reburied in a Konoha approved location when Sasuke became Konoha’s only Private Citizen. Now they’re done by matrilineal lines and decorated with Uzumaki shells and ribbons from Lightning. When Naruto was asked, allowed, to come Sasuke had him press strawberry seedlings into the ground. Sasuke had been messily eating from a different bowl and had pulp smeared across his mouth and jaw. Then, Naruto had wondered if he was allowed to sweep them away with his tongue, if people did that sort of thing in graveyards. Now Naruto knows that the dead do not appreciate love or lust.

People soup. Naruto counts twice and draws a grid on the shallow shore with his foot. 

Monkey Leader is inattentive to Naruto’s actions. He sits between them and their merchants keeping his gaze on the horses. Only one of them likes Naruto. A chestnut mare with a band of white around her mouth and eyes that make her seem mean -she’s downplaying exactly how vicious she is, but she likes him, and that's more than he was expecting. Naruto pulls the body into the grid and starts with the teeth. Pulls back molars for the guys in T&I. The skin sloughs off the dead man's face, puddles down into his wet clothes. Naruto burns it off with Kyuubi’s power, excellent as always for getting rid of evidence. Molars should be enough.

He has a sort of frustrated passion about this. See, Naruto knows intellectually that this has to be done, is done regardless, because you can’t have dead bodies in waterways. They bloat and rot and make people sick. The kind of sick that people like Giri come to fix and then leverage into destabilising the entirety of the Elemental Nations. Naruto also knows that a missing tooth is a decent price for the families of these poor dead to get closure. The third, worst thing Naruto knows is that things come to see dead bodies, things like him. Ninja like him. Spirits like him. Sons of Oceans and Mountains and tall white pillars to the underworld, like him. None of them, really, should be looking at these dead bodies. 

Six teeth. Naruto eyes a leaf moving out of sequence with the wind. Tanuki, an earth specialist.  Tanuki nods and quiet as a mouse the bodies sink into the shore.

--

Sunagakure welcomes them and their trophies at dawn. They sneak in over the sand tide-line two to a row before even the most thrifty merchant has set their wares. Gaara’s office will not be officially open for another three hours, not even his Twilight Guard will accept a visitor now. So Naruto does what he does, cracks his back and makes a loud exclamation about finding a place to sleep. Monkey Leader sets them on a course through Suna’s cruisy districts and around the intelligence quarter. The Konoha away barracks are part of their recent trade deal. A cushy thing on their end and Naruto knows where his room is. After the Summit, before the War, Naruto quietly moved all the things he previously left in Gaara’s spare bedroom to a Jounin room with an ensuite. This room is at the end of the hall with no windows, nothing in or out. A dead end. Monkey Leader espys him but does not comment. 

In the room Naruto turns off the radio left playing on the dresser. His old book lies with its spine cracked, a pair of pants he left to wash last time crumpled on the bed. His single pillow looks lonely. Someone has been in since he was here last, the footprints in the thick carpet aren’t his own. Following this probably-not-a-stranger he sees that his personals have been restocked in the bathroom, laid on the rim of the strange standing bathtub. The grates have been cleaned. Naruto runs a bath and dumps a satchel with Sakura’s clean, neat writing into the water. A small bag sits next to it and he recalls a short conversation at dinner some nights ago. Sasuke and Kakashi had been having one of their weird bonding moments over Naka rocks. Kakashi would run his bandaged fingers over them looking for some indefinable flaw. Sasuke would say that’s not the point and hand him another. He and Sakura watch this for a few minutes, giggling into their beers. Sakura had just shaved her hair down again and the elfin lines of her face were so perfect he’d had trouble not telling her so. 

“Naruto,” Sasuke says in his low clear voice, “what are you thinking about?”

“Sakura’s pretty,” he blurts out. Sakura lowers her eyelashes for a moment, laughing.

“Yes.” Sasuke agrees. “But what are you thinking?”

“‘Bout rocks?” Naruto shifts his gaze carefully. He’s bowled over often by how much he loves looking at Sasuke. If he does it too fast the soft pink of his mouth and thin scar that meets his ear makes him drool. “Dunno, that one.” He picks one from the pile and holds it triumphant.

“Idiot,” Sakura says. She too picks a rock. “Momentos? Right?” 

Sasuke flushes from his heart upwards, making the pink of his lips plush. Sakura keeps her rock, eventually Kakashi meets his proteges standards and departs with his own. Naruto pockets his but forgets it in the wash. Here it is again in Sunagakure with Sasuke’s hair ribbon around it. 

In reality Naruto does not now nor has he ever had momentos. He has moments and memories aplenty. Long, too long sketches of Konoha night in the main thoroughfare in the early morning. The drift and drag of everyone's footsteps lying in the dirt, on the street, leading to the houses they share with people that want them there. Swing sets. Shrine steps. Stoops. All of them empty, at least when he’s there. A city is a lonely place in his experience. 

Things are better now. He has Sasuke, when they aren’t fighting. Sakura, when she’s capable of acting without compromise. Kakashi, when he isn’t fighting a cold war alone. His other friends, when time allows. Allowance is better too. Assured at the very least. 

Compromise is a word he knows now. A strange little door into the way life actually works. 

See, Naruto’s first idea of how things work is formed at 4pm, 2am on weekdays and 7-11am on Saturdays. There’s a little alcove outside one of the curving windows of Konoha’s Library, high above the main hall near one of the old study nooks not even ANBU use. On rainy days the water sloshes off the side. On sunny days the heat only touches the edges. There is enough room for a boy to escape with a little apple and the free water from the front desk. The window is permanently cracked open to let out the musty air. When Konoha’s long hot days and nights were too much for even the most dogged badgering Naruto would skin himself raw heaving his body into it. A radio plays all day in the library, old records and ads for toilet paper. Like everyone else Naruto drowns out the patriot tunes and concentrates on the old radio head that chooses which stories play at the end of the school day. Hashirama and the Seven Headed Snake, Subaru and the Stolen Sword, Himawari Sunrise, Nariko Ascending. He’s heard them all at some point, drifted away to the tales of heroes and Hokages. 

Naruto’s met Hashirama now and he’s a whole different deal. Tsunade makes more sense when you know that that was her first idea of a hero. 

In The Seven Headed Snake Hashirama does not speak. He does wield a sword of redwood through the thick neck of a serpent so big it blots the sky. His heroism is in his quiet dutiful battle. The way the man telling the story describes his strong back and long hair. That’s your back, he says. That’s Konoha’s back. It sounds so absurd, even to a child training to be a ninja: cut through the sky, mold the earth, call forth life to do your bidding alone. The snake’s carcass, the narrator informs them, is as long as the Naka river, and buried somewhere near the big swell the Uchiha worship. On dark nights its eyes watch the village, warily, for Hashirama’s redwoods stand sentinel. Not even in death can he be escaped. 

People don’t let things like Naruto in their houses. This he knows before he can speak. There is something in him people don't want on their doorsteps. Later he knows it's the Kyuubi. After that he knows that it’s the Uzamaki blood. Even later, when he came home from a war that crushed out the light he thought he could carry anywhere, he knew it was simple mortal fear. Something inside Naruto will never die, and anything more mortal than him knows that. Well, except Sasuke. 

In the warm bath water he caresses his leg, not letting it go any further. Far from home he misses his love. There’s an edge in Naruto, sharp as his chipped tooth, that’s only soothed by long dark hair and a softening body. Naruto leans up to look at the scents and staples Gaara’s left in his room. Sweet aloe and greens. Salt and fresh made sand. He thinks of Sasuke’s skin and Sasuke’s soft smile and how he cuddles close to warmth. Naruto’s had grim reason to be grateful for how hot he runs, this last winter when Sasuke’s feud with their electricity provider cut their power mid cold-snap he’s had happier, hornier reasons to be joyful.

Sasuke has a vicious glee about domesticity that is deeply adorable. He loves arguing with the cashier about his coupons and going to PTA meetings and making trendy sandwiches. He does it with a soft violence that Naruto absolutely does not relate to but finds charming. Never has a man wanted for mass murder been so invested in a collect-a-coin newspaper competition. He plays music and cooks food. He goes to town halls and puts up with the mean crooked smile in their fruit vendors eyes. Naruto loves him so much when he makes noise. Naruto loves him more when it’s quiet at home. Naruto loves when Sasuke will talk to him about things he cares for: plants, dumplings, people. Here, far away from his love, Naruto loves that he doesn’t have to lie to him.  

Naruto drags his hand up to his stomach and uncorks the bath. The soft slush of water is the last noise in the room.

[elizabeth-mitchells]

Not really an album since i couldn't choose one and leave others. So ignore if it doesn't fit your ask.

Florence and the Machine songs specifically: cosmic love, delilah, never let me go, what the water gave me, shake it out, howl, no light no light, over the love. Please and thank you.

Oh first of all so sorry this took so long but i’m so excited about this one!! basically, florence and the machine songs are perfect for Andy and Quynh! so let’s do it

Florence and The Machine x Andromaquynh

I’d like to personally thank Florence Welch for writing What the water gave me for Andy and Quynh and Andy and Quynh only. (also howl for the sexy angsty reunion that we WILL get in the sequel!!)

Cosmic Love

“I was in the darkness, So darkness I became” how is it that a song that sounds so pretty is giving me so many Angsty Andromaquynh feelings. if this isn’t andy grieving her loss of loss...

“The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out, You left me in the dark, No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight, In the shadow of your heart” that’s like... both of them. i mean, for Quynh is sort of literal, sorry Quynh.

Delilah

“Too fast for freedom, Sometimes it all falls down, These chains never leave me, I keep dragging them around” I don’t know but this one also gave me “Andy missing Quynh, dealing with the loss, wishing and waiting for her, coping (badly) however she can” feels

Never Let Me Go

“Looking up from underneath, Fractured moonlight on the sea, Reflections still look the same to me, As before I went under, And it's peaceful in the deep, Cathedral where you cannot breathe, No need to pray, no need to speak, Now I am under all” hm... see... i think miss Welch and Quynh probably have different opinion of how it feel to be drowning at the bottom of the ocean.. But!!! If we can pretend that at some point during or probably after freeing herself Quynh found some peace...

“And the crashes are heaven, for a sinner like me, But the arms of the ocean delivered me” I’m reading this as delivered her back home to Andromache <3

but also, I dont love the comics for the ending and the evil Quynh/Noriko, but the “crashes are heaven for a sinner like me” is a big mood for her

What the water gave me

the entire song. that’s it.

“And time goes quicker, Between the two of us” crying in Andy and Quynh have loved each other for three thousand of years

“Lay me down, Let the only sound, Be the overflow” now crying in of course Andy had tried to kill herself or drown herself or singlehandely swim to the bottom of the ocean to find her wife

“And oh, poor Atlas, The world’s a beast of a burden, You’ve been holding on a long time, And all this longing” that’s Andy. no i will not elaborate. That’s Andromache the Scythian

“Because they took your loved ones But returned them in exchange for you But would you have it any other way?” lastly but not least, crying in Andy blaming herself and believing it should have been her bc she lost her wife but also “a soldier” she was older and the leader and she lost Quynh and she wishes she could take her place

Shake it out

“Regrets collect like old friends, Here to relive your darkest moments” Andy :(((( there’s a lot of Andy in this song but! let me suggest:

“And I am done with my graceless heart, So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart” and “And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope“ that’s more about Quynh coming back, dealing with her trauma, finding hope again and looking for happiness and yes dancing with her wife

Howl

Listen... I’m the first one to argue that Andy and Quynh are no “chaotic” couple and I don’t want Quynh to come back a villain and angry at Andy but.... miss Welch made some points here in this song....

“Now there's no holding back, I'm ready to attack, My blood is singing with your voice, I want to pour it out, The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound, I hunt for you with bloody feet across the hallowed ground, Like some child, possessed, the beast howls in my veins, I want to find you, tear out all your tenderness and howl”, did someone say dramatic reunion with homoerotic sword fight while this song plays in the background????

No light no light

“You can't choose what stays and what fades away“ you mean it’s not what time steals it’s what it leaves behind?

“Would you leave me, If I told you what I've done?, And would you leave me If I told you what I've become?” more angsty reunion vibes. takes me back to the comics and Andy having some regrets, and Quynh/Noriko doing some awful stuff, and of course after living so long they’d have things they regret, but maybe only they understand each other

Over the love

“And now to unsee what I've seen, To undo what has been done, Turn off all the lights, Let the morning come” Andy :(((((

“Cause you're a hard soul to save, With an ocean in the way, But I'll get around it” oh so this song was specifically written for andy and quynh. got it

bonus: Which Witch for obvious reasons, also Haunted House (yes they’re the titles of two of my andromaquynh fics + two of what the water gave me)

[shiftynightshade]

Cafunѐ

(n.) running your fingers through the hair of someone you love

Humming softly Erwin gently threaded his fingers through Levi’s hair, raven strands silky if not slightly matted under his fingertips.

The moon was at her peak in the sky, stars dotting inky darkness like bits of parchment peeking through spilt ink. Levi’s breathing was even and soft; raven hair fluttering with every breath he took.

Smiling bitterly Erwin stared down at the petite captain’s head of mussed hair, fingers stopping their stroking to rest protectively on his nape, the fuzz of Levi’s undercut tickling the edges of his fingers – scraping softly.

Levi’s neck was bare for once – his well-known cravat folded with precision and lay on the dresser across the room, Erwin’s bolo-tie nestled on top of the pristine white fabric.

Tilting his head down, (and ignoring the slight ache from his chin digging into the hollow of his throat) the commander nosed along his small captains hairline before carefully planting soft kisses into those well-kept raven strands.

They vaguely smelt of lemon and oddly enough – vanilla. Not that Erwin minded, it suited Levi quite well. A sleep thickened grumble erupted from Levi in an all-most a growl of annoyance, eyebrows drawn into a deep crease.

Freezing Erwin held his breath, Levi rarely got a good restful night of sleep, nightmares and demons clawing way to torturous insomnia. Levi settled again with a pained whine, face nuzzling down into the fain blond curls scattered across Erwin’s chest.

Giving a soft sigh, Erwin let his hand trail down from Levi’s undercut to his shoulder, bandages rough under the pads of his fingers, white crawling its way down Levi’s bruise muddled back, scars and lacerations not yet healed decorating the only exposed skin.

The expedition itself was more or less a success, barely any deaths and the legion managed to expand their territory by a few more kilometres, a well-earned victory in the public’s eyes. It was almost a perfect victory in Erwin’s eyes. Almost.

Another small sound from Levi was met with a face filled with regret as Levi’s face briefly gained a pained expression, brows drawn into a deep crease.

Images of a titans rotting teeth clamping down on Levi’s shoulder flashed to the front of his mind, blood spurting into the air like crimson rain. The surprised shrikes of Levi’s squad swiftly followed by furious shouted promises of a painful death. Erwin had silently echoes their sentiment.

Erwin remembered the feeling of dread filling his throat, dripping down into his lungs like poison tar. The phantom sensations of his eyes clamping shut and ordering to push forward, worry beating in his ribcage like a second heart.

They had finally killed all titans in the immediate vicinity of the operation, scouts re-forming into the formation to retrieve any squads that had fallen behind when a purple flare had been launched into the s smoky and staining the sky.

Panic had gripped Erwin’s chest in a vice grip.

Levi.

They had rushed back to where Levi’s squad had been gathered into a tight protective perimeter under the recently fired flare, two sets of swords held to defend.

Petra had been the one to run over to the commander in a strange state of calm panic, voice calm yet stumbling ever so slightly over her words –merely pointing a shaky finger back to the group where Gunther was surrounded by the remaining squad members, hands clasped together and pumping down firmly if not slightly hysterically, mouthing out a repeated cycle of ‘1-2-3’, forehead sheening with perspiration. Whether it was from the steam emanating from the titan’s carcass nearby or from the physical effort of trying to force a heart to continue living Erwin couldn’t tell.

Eld’s fingers lay against Levi’s neck and wrist, desperately searching for a pulse. Oluo still had his swords drawn, a mixed expression of worry and fury as his eyes darted around for signs of looming danger despite the presence of the other scouts.

The grass beneath Levi was stained with a steadily growing pool of blood, the crimson liquid shining in the orange twilight. More repetitions and blood flowed out of multiple wounds freely.

Erwin remembered how the way Levi’s blood had flowed so slowly yet steadily, like tears.

Gunther looked so desperate yet a defeated light had entered his eyes, and Erwin had understood.

Too many repetitions and you run the risk of ruining any other chances of reviving the patient.

Erwin’s insides slowly began to frost over, the feeling of despair and hopelessness he wished he’d never have to feel again began to slowly bubble into his stomach- a poisonous tar that filled his lungs to the point of asphyxiation.

He prepared to order the scouts to ride out, quickly locking the beating heart in his ribcage away to the dark space where he hid the last of his quickly fading humanity.

His heart was protesting vehemently, begging for this to be a mere dream. That when he woke up for Levi to be laying by his side with his never ending scowls and voice berating him for letting dust gather in his fucking office-

Those thoughts were quickly slammed away with an iron bat, The Commander beating Erwin Smith back into his cage.

Suddenly Eld tensed and shouted, “I’ve got a pulse!”

Hange had quickly shoved their way through the crowd of hovering scouts, med kit in hand and Moblit in tow.

Levi had been swaddled in bandages and wrapped in Erwin’s Survey cloak, his fragile form even smaller under the garment. Hange and Gunther had rode in the wagon with the comatose Captain, bodies tense and ready to leap into action at a seconds notice.

Thankfully not a single titan was spotted on the way back, the corps swiftly returning to the safety of Wall Rose.

“What’s the staring for old man? It’s fucking creepy.”

Jerking, Erwin stared down at Levi with wide eyes, blue iris’s dilating in delight.  

“Lee….”

Erwin gave a soft smile, hand coming up to cup the back of Levi’s head. Grey eyes stared sleepily at him, fogged over with sleep and pain.

“…Fuckin’ Pervert.”

Erwin let out an incredulous laugh, hand once again stroking through Levi’s hair.

“I’m glad you okay Lee, now just sleep. You must be tired.”

Staring down at the captain, Erwin let out a small noise of surprise.

Levi was already asleep, hand lightly curled into a gentle fist. Bunched fabric of Erwin’s nightshirt crumpling, small kitten snores slipping from Levi’s lungs.

Chuckling, Erwin pressed a kiss to Levi’s temple.

“Love you Levi.”

[saelwen]

Geralt of Rivia x Child!Reader

Geralt of Rivia x Child!Reader

Part1

Masterlist

Summary: What happens when a certain witcher save you from an awful future to become a slave for the Nifgaard realm? Follow the journey of you and the white-haired witcher adventures,  blossoming a beautiful relationship between father and daughter. (Yeah... I know that the summary is bad 😂 Sorry)

Warnings: Angst, a little bit of blood

Words: 1,600

A/n: So, i notice that isn´t many fanfics of Geralt being a cute dad so i thought of doing one! The reader is 5 years old. I might do a part 2 to this.

Screams. That´s all you could hear around you. Tears were running down your soft cheeks freely as you see the destruction around yourself. Seeing houses being burnt to the ground, men being slaughter and women trying to comfort their children before the black ones could kill them.  

Kneeling down, you put your small hands on the cold body before you. “M..Mommy?...Mommy wake up...” your voice comes out tiny as you try to shake your mother´s corpse, your vision was becoming more and more blurry by the fat tears running out of your big e/c eyes. “P..Please Mommy!” you stutter quietly, your lower lip trembling from fear and heartbreak.  

Suddenly a strong hand grabs your h/c hair and pull you forcibly, making you scream in pain. “What do we have here? A little pig?” one of the soldiers that were attacking your village said with an evil laugh.  

You put your small hands on his and try to kick him away from you, pleading from him to let you go but that only made them laugh even more. One of the soldiers went to you grab your soaked cheeks tightly, forcing you to look to his wicked eyes. “You would do a perfect slave...maybe when you´re older, you could bring some pleasure to us,” he said with a disgusting smirk on his rough lips. The other two men agreed but the fourth man didn´t say anything, only stay there with a painful look on his pale face. You notice blood running down his mouth and small gasp leaving his mouth. Of a sudden the man falls down to the floor and a large figure stood behind him, with a bloody sword on his hand.  

“What the fuck!” the man that was holding whisper as he saw the golden eyes of the stranger glowing in the dark, glaring dangerously to the three men.  

The other two men run to the golden eye man, clashing their swords with his but they were not good as the large man, who kill them with one single blow, cutting their heads with his shining sword.  

Your eyes shut close as a wave of blood cover your tiny body, making you gasp as you feel the warm red liquid on your s/c skin.  

The man that was holding your hair, screamed and throw you to the hard ground. You fell on the floor with a hard crash and your breath got caught on your throat a little. The soldier starts running away, screaming ´mutant´ but his alarmed voice was changed by a gurgling squeal as the golden eye man throws his sword, piercing his throat.  

You stay still on the cold floor, curl in a small ball beside your mother. Sobbing into your mother's cold neck.  

After a while, you feel a warm hand stroking gently your back. Lifting slowly your head, your teary eyes met golden ones, full of concern. “Are you okay, child?” his rich deep voice envelopes you in warmth and safeness.  

You nod slowly and look down, pointing to the corpse beside you. “Mommy doesn´t wake up!” you sob quietly. The stranger lets out a sigh and nods, putting his warm hand on your bloody cheeks, cleaning some of it. “I´m sorry little one... I think its better for you to go with the rest of refugees...” he said while looking back, seeing some women and men running out of the village with children and small babies. You shook your small head and whimper as you see them looking at you, waiting to come to them.  

The strange man pats your head and stood up. “Stay safe, child,” he said while walking towards his horse, leaving you alone and scared, taking all the safeness with him.  

Looking to the people waiting for you and then to the stranger's back, you stood up and run as fast your little legs could.  

The golden eye man stops as he feels your tiny hand grab his. Looking down, he sees your sad chubby face staring to him, tears running down your soft cheeks. “P..Please...don´t leave me!” you desperate grab his large hand, trying to make him stay.  

He stays looking down at you with a serious face, thinking of what to do. After a while, he lets out a defeated sigh and nods. “Okay... but I will only take you to the nearest town, where is safe for you,” he said while picking you up and putting you on his horse´s back. Then he climbs up, sitting behind you. His strong arms wrap around you as he takes hold of the reins and orders his horse to move, taking you away from the vast chaos and death. 

                                                    /// \\\ 

It´s been a month and you still have a long way until you arrive at the nearest town. In all your time with Geralt, you got to know each other. To your surprise, the large man was a witcher who shocks you since he was so gentle and protective with you.  

You have heard stories about his kind, your mother used to tell as a bedtime story. Telling the brave tales from the monsters' hunters.  

“I´m bored...” you said while sitting beside the small campfire, pouting. “Hi bored. I’m Geralt.” he said with a smirk on his face, making you huff in annoyance. “Can I go play in the river?” you asked with hopeful eyes.  

Since you two stopped to make a camp, the lovely calm waters from the river on the other side of the road grabbed your attention. All you wanted to do was to jump to the beautiful blue water and swim around.  

“No.” that was his answer which made your hope die out. You roll your eyes and huff, hitting with your tiny foot on the muddy ground. “Why not?” you asked, glaring to him.  

Geralt stops polishing his sword and looks to you with one of his silver brows lifted. “Because I said so. Now, why don´t you rest a bit?” he said while posing his sword beside him and resting his back against the tree, closing his eyes.  

You murmured something under your breath and lie down beside the warm fire, watching the flames dance with each other.

After some time, you hear a soft snore coming from Geralt. Standing up, you saw him fast asleep. Smirking gently, you tiptoe to the river, careful not to step in some dry leaves.  

As you reach the bank of the river, the fresh air hits your small face. Grinning widely, you took off your shoes and put your tiny feet on the cold water, giggling as you feel the soft sand on your toes. Looking up, you saw the sun going down and the stars starting appearing on the twilight sky.  

As you were entertained playing on the water, you didn't notice the horrendous creature swimming in your way. His hungry eyes fixed on your small figure, waiting for you to let down your guard. As you were about to pick up a beautiful white stone, you see something move on the murky water. Feeling suspicious, you turn back to leave but a wet cold hand grabs your arm, pulling into the deeps of the river.  

You scream and trash your small body, trying to get free from the creature firm hold. Water starts filling your lungs, making difficult to breathe and your body heavy. The creature licks your face and opens his large mouth, showing all his sharp teeth. As he was about to bit your face off, something pulls the creature out of the water, taking you as well.  

When you hit the hard ground, you start coughing all the water out and taking deep breathes, filling your lungs with fresh air.  

The creature lets out a painful scream and fell on the floor, black blood pouring out of his mouth. Looking up, you see Geralt glaring down to the creature, stabbing him with the point of his silver sword.  

Sobbing loudly, you jump to his arms. Burying your face on his warm chest, inhaling his spicy scent. He wraps his arms around your small frame and carries you back to the camp.  

He grabs a warm blanket and wraps it around you. “I..I´m sorry...Please d..don´t be mad at me...” you sob into his neck, curling your small body against his.  

Geralt took a deep breath and kiss gently your forehead. “I´m not mad, Y/n... but you should have listened to me. You could have died if I didn´t hear you yell,” he said, rocking you gently, trying to calm you down.  

You nod and took a deep breath. Your cries begin to die out, only sniffing and whimper quietly into his chest.  

Geralt starts humming a song, making your eyes heavy as sleep begins to take over your sore and shivering body. His gentle strokes on your back made hum in happiness as bury yourself into him, pulling the soft blanket to your shoulder and sigh in relief.  

The only things you could hear was his soft humming and the slow beat of his heart, lulling you to sleep.  

“I love you, Daddy.” with your words, his body tense. His humming stops and his heart starts beating faster. He took a deep breath and kiss your head, you could feel the sweet smile on his lips.  

“And I love you, my daughter.”

Hey Guys!!! So, what do you think? Should i do a part 2? Hope you like it and feel free to comment and tell me what you think!!

Also, Geralt taglist is open. Click right HERE

XOXO

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[transkholins]

hey uh, throwback to 2019 when i made a rand fanmix. posting it because it can't hurt, but note that the track descriptions and song choices are all unedited.

. BLACKOUT — frank turner

but it’s not enough anymore

we can’t turn just around and close the door on the world

it’s asking uneasy questions

this one’s for winternight and the eye of the world. it’s the start of the world going to hell and being overwhelmed by the shadow (“are you afraid of the darkness?”), and it’s essentially rand against the world. he can’t just walk away from it— his house is attacked by trollocs, and the only option he has is to go with moiraine. he doesn’t really know what he’s up against, only that he’s up against something bad.

. HERO — family of the year

let me go

I don’t wanna be your hero

I don’t wanna be a big man

I just wanna fight with everyone else

this song’s all about not wanting to be a part of something big, just wanting a simple and easy life. at the beginning of the great hunt, rand really does not want to be the dragon reborn— I mean, who would? but it’s a role that he’s forced into, nonetheless. at his heart, he’s just a farmboy who wants to go home. moiraine kind of forces his destiny on him, not letting him postpone it or shove it aside. but at this point, he just doesn’t want to be a hero. the song itself is very soft (and acoustic to boot), which I think nicely represents the simple life that rand wants.

. UNUSUAL — typhoon

get your pitchforks out

the crowd is coming and they’ve named you

why, gentle mother, must you wring your hands and weep?

tide brings you a sword, sword will cut you free

dead demands a tribute in the hour of our need

blood be the river to wash the ledgers clean

oh, it took so much self-restraint to not put more than two songs from this album on this playlist. offerings is just so good AND highly existential, so if you’re wanting more sad rand hours, go listen to it. I think this song best fits rand’s start of really being the dragon reborn, around (you guessed it) the dragon reborn. the world is kind of a mess, and he doesn’t really know what to do, so he just does what he thinks he should do. he’s chosen by the pattern— the world demanded a dragon to save the world, and he was the unlucky soul born on the slopes of dragonmount. you know, his blood on the rocks of shayol ghul and all that. this song, like the one preceding it, is softer— rand hasn’t hardened himself like he will in later books. however, around halfway through, it gets louder and brings in more drums. tdr is the start of rand’s transition from farmboy to dragon reborn, in both good ways and bad.

. KIDS — mgmt

we like to watch you laughing

picking insects off of plants

no time to think of consequences

this song focuses a lot on the idea of self-control/self-restraint— not doing more than you have to, good or bad. it reminds me a lot of rand’s earlier experiences with channeling and being ta’veren. saidin is dangerous, what with the taint and all, and drawing too much of either half of the one power has severe consequences. he’s not as in control of his ta’veren-ness as he will be in later books— like his channelling, it’s a bit all over the place. the quote at the beginning of the music video (it’s friedrich nietzsche, not mark twain, but whatever) also ties in with this idea— if you’re not careful, you can become the very thing you were fighting against.

. LOUDER THAN EVER — cold war kids

I was carrying my cheek

I was digging my strange

I was taking you for granted

you were holding the reins

but I can hear you louder than ever

whisper to me, help me remember

I can’t see you but we’re still together

I can hear you louder than ever

moiraine’s “death” is a tipping point for rand— he feels like he could’ve prevented it, even though moiraine literally tells him that he couldn’t, and that what happened was the best possible outcome. after she passes through the portal, rand realizes that he took her presence for granted. her advice was good, if often unwelcome, and after her death rand just ends up going off the rails in so many different ways. when she returns in a memory of light, he realizes how helpful she was to him.

. SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT WITH ME — cold war kids

something is not right with me!

something is not right with me!

something is not right with me!

I’m trying not to let it show

the taint on saidin is just really like that, huh? rand can tell that something’s wrong, with lews therin’s voice in his head. the thing is, he doesn’t let anyone know because he’s 1) scared of showing weakness and 2) sane people don’t normally hear voices. this song is fast, but not in an upbeat way— it feels chaotic, panicked, and just barely in control. the singer is almost shouting the lyrics instead of singing them, contributing to that feeling. I think it embodies most male channellers’ experiences with the taint— it isn’t smooth or calm like saidar, it’s a raging river of fire.

. DREAMS OF CANNIBALISM — typhoon

unhand me, I am not a criminal

but I’ve played a guilty part

in the modern sense that one pretends their life is original

I wrote a book and I will call it something cynical

the story’s slow, the hero does not change

and if he can, then he won’t anyway

instead his foes and lovers all become identical

this song ends with the line “soon enough you will be dancing at my funeral,” and I can’t come up with something that encompasses rand-as-the-dragon more. people are terrified of him— hell, even he’s terrified of him. the world doesn’t want a dragon, but they got one anyways. the second set of verses above is a more textual examination of rand at this point— a crown of swords through crossroads of twilight is incredibly slow, and rand doesn’t change much throughout those books (hence why this song covers 4 books). he could make a change in his life if he tried, but he doesn’t, since he thinks he needs to shut others out to protect them. the whole song seems to be conveying the idea of being stuck and not going anywhere, but running from yourself, which, to be fair, is very close to what rand experiences in his own head in these books.

. GHOSTS THAT WE KNEW — mumford and sons

so lead me back

turn south from that place

and close my eyes to my recent disgrace

so give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light

’cause oh, that gave me such a fright

but I will hold on as long as you like

just promise me we’ll be alright

I picked a soft song for the softer scene in the gathering storm where min and rand are talking about how cold he’s become. he realizes that he doesn’t have to fake an uncaring and unemotional nature— to be human is to feel, and it’s not bad to be human. the song is about going through something that’s wearing you down (a common interpretation is depression), and knowing that you have someone helping you through it. min sticks with rand during almost everything that happens from lord of chaos to the end of the series. she’s a support for him, and too stubborn to ever leave him, no matter what.

. DARKER — typhoon

I tried, you know, just to toe the line

love all the neighbors and live in the light

sure, I stumbled sometimes

self-contained; a convenient lie

every source of pain, every sting of pride

had to come from the outside

you won’t even fight me fair

wait for the darkness, catch me unaware

yeah, you pull me close

then you twist the knife

of course, that happy, warm feeling can’t last, because that scene is followed by semirhage being sadistic and deciding that now is the perfect time to use this new torture device. because of that, rand ends up shutting himself off even more than before. he’s suspicious and cruel, and thinks only for himself. it’s scary, frankly. darker, like all the songs on the album that it’s from, is very existential, though this song is, fittingly, darker than the others. it’s filled with the sense of impending death and strong suspicion that characterizes rand at this point in his life. he tried to open up, and look where it got him. this quick change is mirrored by the sharp musical contrast between the quiet, acoustic ‘ghosts that we knew’ and and the more drum-heavy, electric, and distorted ‘darker.’

. MOUNTAIN AT MY GATES — foals

I see a mountain in my way

it’s looming larger by the day

I see a darkness in my fate

I’ll drive my car without the brakes

through lanes and stone rows

black granite, wind blows

fire lake and far flame

go now but come again

dark clouds gather ’round

will I run or stand my ground

oh, when I come to climb

show me the mountain so far behind

yeah, it’s farther away

its shadow gets smaller day after day

the obvious scene for this song is the events leading up to rand’s epiphany on dragonmount. I mean, ‘mountain’ is in the song’s name. I think that this song works well to represent the weight and lack of direction he feels in the days building up to that. something that works especially well about this song is how it builds, both lyrically and musically. the song starts with a hopeless and dark tone to the lyrics, and stays that way for a while. the bridge (second set of lyrics above) is where the tone starts to change. the bridge also uses a lot of imagery that one can tie to the buildup— the streets of ebou dar, the rocky and windy peak of dragonmount, the belly of fire in the mountain itself and tar valon, the city that the peak looks over. the song then crescendos into its final segment, where the singer sings “give me my way/give me my love/give me my choice/give me my fate/give me my lungs/give me my voice.” to me, these represent rand’s realization that the reason the wheel keeps turning is so that people can live again and love again.

. COLORFUL — jukebox the ghost

we're just getting started

take your fears and let them go

for the lovers and the broken-hearted

I! love! this! song! I haven’t found another song that captures that feeling of hope in darkness: when everything around you has gone to hell, but you keep going because the darkness isn’t all there is. that’s how veins of gold ends— with rand realizing that there’s something worth fighting and living for. the gathering storm literally ends with rand laughing without bitterness for the first time in months, if not years— he’s finally looking on the bright side of life again.

. BEAUTIFUL LIFE — the collection

you do not have to be good

even the best of us have been misunderstood

so get up onto your feet

the sun is shining repentance through the leaves

its rays will wash you clean

this one’s for the end of a memory of light, when rand decides to leave and live the rest of his life on his terms. he wants to explore the world, without the pressure of his past and who he was weighing on him. he has a chance to slow down and appreciate this “beautiful life,” instead of rushing through it towards tarmon gai’don. and that’s what this song is about, i think. it’s not super peppy, and neither is rand at this point. it’s more of a quiet and peaceful acceptance.

. ALL THESE THINGS THAT I’VE DONE — the killers

I wanna stand up, I wanna let go

you know, you know, no, you don’t, you don’t

I wanna shine on in the hearts of men

I want a meaning from the back of my broken hand

over and in, last call for sin

while everyone’s lost, the battle is won

with all these things that I’ve done

first of all, the wheel of time series takes place over the span of two years, and rand does so much within that time. within this playlist, I don’t think of this song as an ending, rather a summary of rand’s life through the books. I specifically want to talk about the iconic refrain of “I’ve got soul but I’m not a soldier.” it serves as a bookend to rand’s arc as a character— initially he refuses his role as the dragon reborn (even though he’s suited for it, due to his heritage and upbringing) because he doesn’t want to fight in that way. during the bulk of the series, he embraces a role as a fighter, even though he doesn’t have the soul for it. and finally, he realizes that he isn’t a weapon, and that he never was. on another note, the line “these changes ain’t changing me/that cold-hearted boy I used to be” hits a bit too close to his character.