#So I read one fanfic to see

[prahacat]

when the horrors catch up and you take an evening off to batch-process

[poisonousquinzel]

little me, we made it.

it took like 15 years, but we made it

[tea-cat-arts]

I simply think this fandom doesn't give Wei Wuxian enough credit for the various ways in which he saved Lan Wangji

[melooooo17]

@openphrase123 your fanfic(s but i mainly made art of the mira and siffrin one because i cant remember words for the life of me for i do not speak french) IS???? ? SO GOOD. SO GOOD IM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH finally something to look forward to in the week fr

Mild spoilers for it ig!! But nothing too explicitly groundbreaking i dont think it'll kill your mom to look at these without having read the ff first

Don't mind the shit quality i??? I drew all these so fast theyre kinda shit and i have yet to fully acclamate isat to my artstyle so it's mid

Teehee me when i make shitty rushed fanart to show my appreciation that i cannot put into words for my faovorite games and also authors

peep the rant in the tags

[ryssbelle]

Poppy for N2 au, it took me so long to make her design cuz I didn't really know what I wanted to do only because I feel like her design is pretty perfect.

But then I just thought about fun outfits to give her or outfits that I would find comfortable if I was wearing them and it all came together.

Poppy here is pretty much the same as here movie counterpart, as nothing really changes on her end of things other than having more insight on Branch through his brothers, and through Lief. Shes also a bit more understanding a bit earlier on because of it but it doesnt do much to change her own character arc I would say.

Bonus

Part of Poppys design was based off a design I had made for previous rulers of Troll Village/Tree

Namely Queen Protea who I designed as Poppys grandmother

Named after the Protea flower which part of her design is based off :D

In the context of this Au Protea was the one who conceptualized the tunnels while her son, King Peppy, was the one to follow through after her death

[hcdragonwrites]

A Tiger on the Mountain (a @semisolidmind Fanfic)

Here it is ! Another one. I made up a creature specifically so I could play out a scenario in my head and lead into another fic after this one. This is not a two parter but it leaves it open for a follow up!

TW: Blood and Violence and allusions to torture at the end. (Not of Peaches SHES fine)

“Get out before you become a new rug for me to wipe my feet upon.” Sun Wukong snarled over the table, his staff in his hands. The Nine Tiger Demon took a step backward at the fury. The expedition to this kingdom of monkeys and flowers had been a fools mission. Zari, The Nine Tiger Demon- Lord of the Eastern Waste and Terror of the Snowy Steppes, dipped his head cordially.

“As you wish, my Lord.” The tiger smiled and stepped out of the council room, his great black cape swirling as he exited in a flourish. He had made a jab at the Monkey Kings pride by calling him Lord. He knew that his patience was wearing thin with him. Especially after he had eluded to the weakness of mortal Ally’s.

“It is necessary to procure some of the goods they produce.” Wukong had waved the complaint aside. As if waving a fly. Zari was a lord of a snowy country where resources were few and blood was spilt as common as the snowfall. His kind had been hunted by poachers for their pelts. For the magic quality in their stripped bodies. Bones, blood, tendons, fur, claws… Everything in a tigers body was hunted for medicine, magic and mayhem. To hear that the most feared creature west of his kingdom, the great demonic Monkey King who had challenged Heaven, had made treaties with humans…

Zari had licked his muzzle sensing weakness.

“Why treat when you can take?” The tiger lord had questioned. His attendants beside him fidgeted, their hands straying to the scimitars belted to their sides. A twitch of his tail tip called them off. A tiger was playing with a monkey to see what sort of prey it had between his claws.

“And cause further disharmony around me ? Mortal men are easily placated. It leaves me free to put my resources into more important things.” Here the monkey leaned forward, eyes glowing with the torchlight. “Like seeking new territories in the east.”

The threat was received but Zari didn’t rise to the bait. He was a patient creature. The scars on his stripped hands and body proved how many battles and hunters he had outwitted.

Of course Zari had only come to sieze up the competition in the West. He never had any intentions of swearing allegiance to the ape. To debase himself to an ape? Never. So it only took Wukong a few more verbal jousts to also know the game was at an end. He had dismissed the tiger with a threat. Zari kept his claws velveted. For now.

As he stepped out of the corridor he let the slightest bit of agitation show in his whiskered face. A twitch of a tail brought one of his attendants forward.

“Gather the lower Claw.” Zari whispered. “They need a good hunt.”

“Of course my King.” The lesser demon bowed and raced off, light as a feather in the wind. At least that would humble the foolish ape—

Zari came around the corner and bumped straight into something soft, and pliable. His claws caught it reflexively before the thing fell completely onto his black armor and ruined his perfect complexion. He hissed, about to snap at this new weaker underling of a foolish king when the scent hit the top of his mouth.

Human.

“I’m so sorry!” It was female. The women pulled from the tiger claws. Her eyes remained cast down. Simple peasant clothes. Hair tied up in a messy updo. Flushed cheeks, good proportions. The tigers eyes had been blown wide.

“Are you alright miss?” Zira smoothed the twitching of his whiskers, kept the lashing of his tail to a minimum. But his instincts roared and his mouth pooled. “I did not mean to bump into so harshly.”

A captured peasant girl? A pet of this monkey kings?

“Oh no it was my fault!” The women said. She finally looked up and the tiger demon got a good look at the curve of her throat. The hot pulse just inches from his fangs.

From further down the corridor someone called “PEACHES!” The girl stiffened a bit then smiled sheepishly.

Zira felt as if he was a wolf in the sheep pen.

“I should have been watching where I was going. Carry on!” She bowed and then quickly scuttled off.

“Well well well…”Zira smiled to himself as another monkey ran past and after the fleeing women. He felt his grin widen, the drool threatening to slip. “Look like I have some entertainment myself…”

For Zari, The Nine Tiger Demon- Lord of the Eastern Waste and Terror of the Snowy Steppes, was whispered and feared by mortals across his snowy slice of the world. Legends told of how he would slip in as silent as a ghost. How he would visit families and paint their walls in red crimson and spattered gore. For Zari was a man eater, a enjoyer of mortal flesh. And his favorite prey that he enjoyed devouring most was women.

This conquest just got a bit more interesting.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I Demand compensation.”

The threat would have come off more terrifying from the Monkey King if he had been dressed in his armor. However he was… not. Instead Wukong was at the present moment, begging on Peaches lap beneath a cherry tree. His face was a storm cloud as he lifted Peaches hands up to his head.

“I am afraid you won’t be getting any.” Peaches let her hand fall limply off. The stormy face broke into a beggars crocodile tears.

“PEACHESSSS!”

Macaque would have snickered at his sworn brother begging but he was also not getting any sort of touches from Peaches. He didn’t know why she had decided today of all days to deny both of them.

Why was she withholding scratches from her husbands? Well. For many reasons. For one, one of them startled her awake this morning by swooping her into his arms because he got a little too excited and woke her from her dreams. It also triggered a huge sort of panic because she has had enough of nightmares on being snatched away thank you.

Of course telling the one begging at her knees right now that his over exuberance this morning had been one of the reasons for no pats, would only lead to more exuberance.

A second reason she was including both and not just the one who scooped her ? Well because the day before Macaque thought it would be funny to pop one of his shadows beneath her while she was trying to brush her hair and in the fall the hairbrush - still tucked into her hair- wrenched. It had been painful and she had lost several bits of her own hair in it.

And thirdly? Because these two had, for all intensive purposes of the words, kidnapped her and forced her to live here upon the mountain. Yes she was still bitter about it. No she wouldn’t get over it. At least not today. Too many tricks were tugged and her personal space breached for her to simply let it go. A little bodily autonomy and boundary would be nice. Instead her two lovers would look at her as one would a family cat and go “awwwwwwww!” and scoop her up.

So two very peeved simians sat cross legged staring her down. Wukongs tail was lashing back and forth, his eyes narrowed like a cats. He reached forward and grabbed Peaches hand again. She had learned long ago that giving them the satisfaction of her resistance- how cute! They would say as she practically threw all manner of pellmell closet clutter at them- would only prolong their inevitable smothering of her.

Being impassive was her best weapon.

So she let her hand be limply lifted.

Just as limply it slid off the Monkey Kings head.

“Peaches! Come on!” Wukong groaned. He sounded like a kid begging for sweets. Peaches sniffed. The day was nice at least. She had made her way out of Water Curtain Cave and out onto the mountainside before her attendant could shove and stuff her into royal courtly attire. Not today! Peaches hadn’t wanted to attend court. She hadn’t wanted to be near that council room. Her accidental bump into that demon had been as close as she had gotten. A tiger demon? Now that was something she hadn’t seen yet.

Wukong laid himself over her lap, his face pouting up at her. He looked… adorable. It was almost enough for her to forget about his transgression this morning. It wasn’t enough. She turned her head away.

Only for Macaque to be there. He had somehow snuck up, as was his silent way, and pressed himself to her back. He slipped her into his lap, and Peaches felt a little spark of unease. Macaque was the slower of the two when it came to affection, sneaking it in or trying to tease it from her. Wukong was all action and joyful tugs and play. His was earnest and forward. Macaque was… sly. Teasing. A fox inside the chicken house.

“Sweet peach, come now.” His hands settled around her. His breath tickled the shell of her ear and Peaches fought the blush from rising in her face. Think of rocks and birds. What you will eat tonight. Anything but how his voice and how it feels rumbling against me.

“We just want to have a little comfort.” The dark furred monkey lifted her hand. He entwined his fingers in hers. They were so large. The practically swamped her own. The claws slide along the fingers as he lifted her hand and tugged it into his fur onto his cheek.

“Come on, little plumb.” His smile was as sweet as honey, as soft as downy feathers. If it had been any other day she would have mussed his fur and teased him back. However Macaque made a mistake of touching her hair with a free hand. Reminding Peaches that this little trickster had yanked some of her hair out.

She let her hand remain lax.

“No.”

“Then you leave both of us no choice.”

Macaque leaned back and with a woosh and gasp of air and black- they were back in their room. The pillow pit cushioned their fall, as did Macaque who lay beneath her. Peaches let out an indignant squeak as the demon monkey growled playfully in her ear.

“You have only a few moments before Wukong gets here. Do you want to tell me what’s up?”

“No.” Peaches sniffed. His hand was trailing along her skin, almost walking up her arm.

“Are you mad at him?” Macaque asked.

“Yes”

“Are You mad at me?”

“Yes.”

“Is it … a mad kind of day?”

She didn’t respond.

He tutted and tugged her hands free of where she had shoved them beneath her arms. He placed one against the side of his head, eyes gently closing. He kissed her palm, her wrist, her arm.

“Come on my sweet… just indulge us both..”

“No.”

“Little minx.” The purple eyes flashed along with that sharp toothed smile. Peaches felt her face flush. Macaque leaned in and over her now, his free hand twining in the hair on the back of her neck. The demon was angling her from being the one on top, to sliding her into the pillow pit with the dark haired monkey hovering above. He pulled her up and into him, and Peaches had the startling realization that she was so very very small and he was so very very large all of a sudden.

“What sins do I have to whisper into your ears ? What marks should I leave upon your skin to earn your affection again?” His eyes dipped to her lips. Peaches face felt like it was afire. “Should I sing your praises into your skin with my teeth?”

Oh dear.

And then the moment of tension was broken by a furious orange blur bursting into the room and tackling both of them. Peaches cried out while Macaques face looked deadpan at his sworn brother. The moment of tension, of turning Peaches pink as a lychee fruit, was over.

“MACAQUE! THATS NOT FAIR!” The monkey king was entangled with both of them as he grabbed the other hand and shoved it into his fur. Peaches only held onto them now as they jostled her. “HOW MANY HEADSCRATCHES DID YOU GET?”

“None…” His face was exasperated, his tail twitching at the tip.

“None?” Wukong echoed.

“None!” Macaque slammed his head closer to Wukong. Peaches was perfectly sandwiched between her husbands very bare and very exposed chests as the two brothers bristled at each other. She was loosing her own power of wills because … well. Peaches was only human. She could barely stay mad at one Monkey half dressed. Two half dressed and practically pressed cheek to pec against either side of your face ? It was a marvel her body didn’t burn up on the spot from how much she was blushing.

“Why you shouting at me then?!”

“You spoiled my sport before I could tease some out of her.”

“Oh?” Wukongs eyes shot downward. Peaches looked away, feeling like she got caught watching.

Oh no.

The two demons looked down on her. And Peaches felt like she was in danger. Not a you-will-die-and-be-disemboweled way. More of you-will-be-turned-into-a-second-sun-from-how-much-we-will-tease-you kind of way. They loomed over their mortal wife, ears perked forward and grins becoming sharp and feral.

Another burst through the door however saved Peaches from being turned into a puddle beneath the attentions of her husbands.

“Ugh what is it now?” Macaque sighed.

“My King! We are under attack!”

The two warlords changed from flirting devils to stiff and immovable stones as they stood. Macaques ears swished, forward and back, each set twitching as he confirmed it.

Wukong was across the room, his armor back on his body in a flash. His staff was plucked free from his ear, elongating in a flourish.

“Where?” The Sages voice was a silent rumble.

“Off the south slope- a band of panthers by the look of it.” The sentry’s tail was puffed in fear. Wukong nodded and was off in a flash of fur and fury.

Someone was attacking the mountain? They must be crazy. Insane. Or have a death wish.

Macaque set Peaches firmly in the Pillow pit, eyes somber.

“Love don’t move. Don’t leave this room. Understand ?” His face was pinched in worry bordering on fury. He was trying to maintain his composure for her, to hold back the anger that was threatening to bubble upward. Peaches may think of her boys a lot of way. They were selfish when they wanted her attention. They had taken her away reluctantly from her home. She had been forced to live her for the past decade or so. Her husbands were warlords, murderers and Demons.

They also cared for her a great deal, in a way that no mortal could compare. They clothed her in the finest garb but also gave her the option of comfort. They brought her to the Palace and laid laws down among the fellow demonic ally’s that she was to be respected and treated as an extension of Wukong and Macaques power. They brought her gifts from the outside world when they came back from expeditions, made her foods from the finest ingredients, told her stories of their travels. On nights when the past came back to rear it’s head she could find comfort in one or both of their arms.

And at times like this, she felt thankful that, of all the kidnapping creatures in the world, at least it had been these two.

That didn’t sound like a plus at all.

Macaque was waiting for her response. Peaches shook herself free of the cobwebs, of the past and back into the present. The mountain was under fire. Something was trying to earn the ire of the Monkey King and his People. As a very soft once mortal immortal now, Peaches had no sort of power to defend with or help. She was a liability, at least until she began her own cultivation, on the battlefield. So Peaches nodded.

“Yes.”

It was all Macaque needed. He pressed a kiss to her temple and whispered “Good girl.”

And he was gone, falling into shadow.

“Hellooooo?”

Peaches started awake at the voice. Disoriented she disentangled herself from the soft fur and pillows she had been wedged between. She must have fallen asleep some time in the day. The light coming from the windows was a burnished gold, sunset settling on the

“Someone help! Help me please…”

The voice was disjointed, the sound echoing from beyond the closed doors. It set her skin to crawling. Shouldn’t there be guards ? Shouldn’t there be someone outside the doors?

“HELP. SOMEONE HELP!”

The voice sounded like a baby! The shrill high note cut through the last hesitation Peaches had. She opened the door and rushing out into the corridor.

The echos of her footfalls bounced back to her from the stone walls. The cry came again, a baby monkey hooting in distress. It came from around corridors, downs passageways. Peaches raced forward until she had burst out of the cavern and into the dying light of the sun.

The grass swayed in the breeze. The shadows danced across the field, like stripes on a great tigers back.

She felt a shiver go up her spine. Something was terribly wrong. It felt off - the world felt off. The mountain was usually brimming with life and sound. Birds would be calling even at this late hour when day turns to night. The cicadas would be sonorously screaming their complaints to the night air. However…

Everything was still. Not a insect nor a bird called out. There were no generals or other monkeys present on the mountain. Usually sentries were littered about the fields and slopes. There was no one here at this moment.

That’s wrong. Completely wrong…

A faint gurgle, a dying cry of a baby monkey from somewhere just ahead.

“Where are You?” Peaches called. The child sounded in pain- and the sooner she got them inside the cave, the better. “You have to tell me where you are so I can help you.”

“Typical mortals.” The voice came from behind and peaches whipped around. A tiger demon, a creature of immense size and with terrifying teeth, toward behind her. Zira held the languid look of a cat with a full belly, tail swaying in the grass and claws meticulously being groomed. The blood from those long claws was the fresh scarlet of new blood.

“Your kind always come when lured by another— I was wondering if I should do a human baby or a mortal imitation but, seeing as you’ve been collared and tamed by monkeys, I thought that would be the easiest way to lure you out.” The tiger lord grinned. Peaches saw that he was fully armored. The black leather of his body was painted in dark splotches of red.

He’s … killed people. Who has he killed?? Where’s the baby ??

Peaches stepped cautiously back into the grass, heart racing. The tiger lords eyes grew round.

“Are you trying to run?” His voice was practically a pur as he stood straighter. “Please do. The chase will be good for me and clear this monstrous smell of ape blood.”

“What do you want?” Peaches needed to stall. To find a way to keep the beast talking. He liked to talk to full the silence. “Why are you here?”

“Those are boring questions dear morsel. Boring indeed. You mortals think all the same- but at least you taste better then your little brains think.” Zira stepped forward and into Peaches bubble- forcing her backward and further away from the cave. “Why am I Here ? Well to play. It’s been so long since I’ve had a chance to play with another demons pet.”

Another slow pace forward. Another hasty retreat from Peaches.

“I can understand. I play rough. It’s hard when you all … scream at the slightest break of bone. At the sudden loss of limb…” the tiger lords body seemed to grow, a secondary face appearing from its left cheek. The new muzzle opened and in horror peaches heard people crying, of mortal women begging for their children. The voices of men pleaded for wives and sons and daughters. Anguished cries, cries of pain. Voices from the past.

Dead voices.

“They never last long.” The tiger smirked, that new face along his left side turning upward as well.

“So when I came to see this terrifying demon lord who has challenged heaven I expected him to have a show of strength. What I didn’t expect was a pet like you.” Those eyes flashed.

“Why? Wukong is the strongest Why—“

“Why did I not expect you?” Zira snorted. “Because demons forget themselves when they stop consuming lesser beasts and start befriending them.”

Peaches looked about her. She wouldn’t be able to make a dash back to the caves. This tiger was driving her further and further from safety. She had been a fool to try and help, a damned fool. The next best thing she could do was to try and stay alive long enough. Long enough for her to call out. Wukong or Macaque would hear her. She had no doubt on that. There was also the willow tree just ten feet behind her. If she could get to it and climb she may be able to stall out this demon.

“Now dear. How would you like to die?” The tiger was closer now as Peaches kept stepping back. She was almost back pedaling, trying to stay out of the range of those claws. Of those red teeth. “I could kill you by fang or claw. Or maybe a sword would be better. But then… where’s the fun in it for me if you die so quickly ?”

Peaches spun on her heel and ran.

“HELP!” Her lungs filled with more air, to shout to the Heavens above. The grasses bent beneath her flight. She had almost made it to the tree, almost got enough air to scream again when something slammed into her shoulder. Bright hot pain bloomed and she fell to the dirt. Her hands reached up and came away with sticky blood.

“Calling for help is useless.” Zira licked the fresh blood clean from his claws, enjoying the taste of terror on his tongue. “My men have them busy against the farthest side of the mountain.”

Peaches rolled, to get up to get away she did not know. Her movement was stopped by a booted heel to her shoulder. The new pain elicited a scream to peak from her lips. It rang eerily off the mountain that was so still. So awfully still.

“The pain will only be temporary.” Zira knelt. The tiger reached down with his clawed hands. He cupped her face as she fought him. He smiled and opened his jaws wide to close over her throat.

The suns last dying ray cast a shadow as black as night over the grassy floor. It pooled beneath the mortal women and then, with a slip and tug, Ziras prey was swallowed by the black. The tiger snarled claws raking the soil in a vain attempt to dig her back out.

“So it was you.”

Zira turned.

There, leaning against his staff was the Monkey King. His clawed hands and golden armor were covered in black blood. Zira felt a worm of unease creep into his calm and cocky smile. Those warriors had been the best of his Claw- the best in the Snowy Steppes. There was no way they had failed—

“Ah King Wukong!” The tiger Lord began. If he could stall him out, lead him into a false sense of security, then that would be better. It would buy him time to get closer, to steal into range and pounce. “So nice to see you agai—-“

The tiger lord didn’t even see the moment. On second the orange monkey was standing before him and the next he felt a blooming pain cut along his secondary face. He roared in confusion as the sight from those eyes was lost in a shower of blood. The tiger had no time to reorient himself however. The neck blow was to one of his hands. Sun Wukong clasped one in hand and with a terrible crunch, shattered all the bones within.

Panic came traipsing up the tigers spine. This was not good. The monkey was moving incredibly fast - too fast- for him to counter. He reached for his Scimitar- the blade of Nine Tigers- to end the fight. This blade could cut mountain in half- it could cleave souls from bodies and leave the flesh whole.

“You come to my mountain…”

The staff slammed into the side of his head, casting several of the tigers teeth from his jaws. He was unbalanced but determined. He just had to grab his sword —

“You attack my home…”

Another blow to his middle sent him slamming into the willow tree. The force of it snapped the bark and collapsed the Willow behind him. Zira felt stars float in his vision, tasted his own blood. He had a hand on his sword now though. He drew the blade, cutting it across the insolent ape that towered over him. Wukongs soul would be cleaved, his body left behind for the flies to lay eggs in. He would be dead. The blade sliced —

And snapped in half.

“You tried to devour my wife…” Fear is not something a tiger experienced often. It raced over his stripes, twitched his crushed whiskers, and made his eyes widen. That had been his wife ? That common little dustmote ? Zira had miscalculated. A pet was one thing. But a wife —

“You took… a mortal… as a wife? Pa—“ Zira tried for bravado, tried to spit into the monkey lords face. The tiger was desperately clinging to what remained of his pride. He had chased a rabbit into a ravine and found wolves.

Zira opened his jaws to cast his last disrespect. Only for the claws of Wukong to cut along his jaw and crush it closed before he could finish.

“I will break every bone in your body before I let you die. You will wish you were dead before I’m done with you.”

The shadows swallowed Peaches and arms wrapped around her but she was still flailing. She grabbed at fur and skin and battered her fists and nails against it.

“Ow - PEACHES - PEACHES ITS ME!” Macaque voice cut over the adrenaline that floated high and fast in her blood. She blinked at him. They were back in their room, back inside Water Curtain Cave. Peaches hand was still curled in a fist, still raised up to beat along her captors face. Only. This wasn’t the tiger anymore. It was Macaque.

“It’s just me.”

“I’m not dead am I?” What stupid words to say but it was the first thing her numb mind could think on.

“What? No.” Macaques face was a sea of worry lines as he gently turned her shoulder to him. The blood was sopping beneath the cloth of her shirt. He gave it a sniff and murmured in soothing tones. Mostly to himself. “But I’m concerned for your shoulder. Let’s get that looked at alright ?”

Peaches nodded. Macaque used his claws to rip free the ruined cloth of the shirt and gain better access to the claw marks.

“It’s an ugly scratch but nothing deep.” She felt his hands, paper soft press along the skin. She hissed at the fiery pain as damaged nerves and sore skin protested. “Peaches you will have to be brave for me and let me stich it closed ok?”

She nodded. Her mind was still processing the events just moments ago. Of tiger teeth flashing to bite her throat. Of claws cutting her skin. Macaque returned to her and tugged her into him. She didn’t protest. Didn’t stop as he pulled her hand up to his face. She twined her fingers into the fur, needing the grounding almost, if not more, then he did. Macaque made soothing chirps and soft noises as he worked, pulling needle through flesh and closing it up.

It was only after a time, when Peaches own fear began to fall away, that he asked her.

“Why did you leave the room Peaches ?”

“I heard … it sounded like one of the babies Mac.” One of the little monkey babies all alone and crying for help. The haunting sound echoing off the stone and always just out of reach. “One of the littles in pain and hurt. I didn’t think. I just … acted.”

“Mmm.” Another stich pressed into her skin and she flinched. “You know this means you will have to have a day guard now yes?”

“Are you putting more restrictions on me after I almost got devoured ?” It was a bad attempt at humor but Peaches tried anyway. Whenever something happened to her - if it was an imagined insult from a courtier, a threat to her life because she tried something new and it didn’t agree with her- the boys would set new limits, new conditions. Macaque scowled at her and she bit her tongue from adding to the humor.

“Precautions. If I hadn’t heard you—“ His voice chocked at the end. Peaches looked back. Macaques ears were all low, dropping like flower petals. For all their faults, for their transgressions in taking her choices from her, they loved her. Peaches could see that love in Macs eyes as he imagined the possible outcomes that could have happened. She twirled her fingers around s patch of his fur, soothing him and herself with the confirmation that this was the reality now and not those flashing teeth.

“We can’t loose you Love. I — we — we were so afraid.” When Macaque had heard the strangled help in the heat of battle he had stopped. He had felt his heart give a lurch and Wukong had been of like mind. That battle was practically won. Between the two sworn brothers, nothing much could stand in their fury. But hearing Peaches— Peaches who they left back safe in their room, in the palace, calling for help—

“I was too.”

“When I tell you to stay inside - stay inside. Understand?”Anger laced Macaques words as he pinned her with a look.

“Yes.” It wasn’t good enough though. Not for him. It wouldn’t be for Wukong. The next time the mountain was under attack—if there was a next time— Macaque would lock the doors and the windows. He would shudder the room in shadow if he had to. But. A yes for now was the best he would get from her.

“Good. That’s all the chewing out I’ll give you because when Wukong gets here he’s going to have some very harsh words with you.” Peaches shoulders flinched a little.

“He’s mad at me?” There was genuine hurt and dismay in her voice. Wukong and Peaches had the toughest days when it came to their relationship. Some days she could forget he had taken her without her consent from all she knew- had wiped her village clear off the map. Other days she only saw the blood soaked Warlord in all his fury. On those days arguments ensued and the kings mood was ever sour.

“Never mad at You.” Macaque reassured. Wukong never was genuinely upset at their peach. How could he be when he was enamored with her so? Macaque couldn’t even keep his own anger at her negligence of self after todays events. All she had to do was look at him with that puppy dog look and he was wanting to tease and soothe her into smiles and comfort. “Never. Afraid for your life ? Absolutely. He has half a mind to keep you indoors from now on.”

“He said that ?”

“As we were racing to come get you yes.” Macaque finished the stitches with a pull and tug. The cord came free in his claws. He set about binding cotton gauze around the area to protect the stitches. In the morning he would let them breathe.

“But I think if you let him coddle you for a few days and you agree to a guard, he won’t take your outside privileges away.” Macaque teased and gave advice. Wukong could get a bit … territorial when it came to their Peach. He understood how important it was to give some sort of semblance of freedom to her. Peaches was like a flower- she needed light and air to thrive. If Wukong took that away, he wouldn’t like how she would wilt. Even though Macaque himself had half a mind to keep her inside forever. Especially after today.

Peaches head brushed beneath his chin suddenly and the monkey was jarred from his thoughts. She was nodding off, fighting sleep. Macaque gathered her up easily and set her into the bed they shared. He took care to arrange the pillows, to settle her into her most favorite blankets and soft things. It was a distraction from the rage that now was bubbling upward. For though Macaque had the calmest demeanor- he was just as bloody and furious as his brotherly counterpart.

“Go to sleep.” He commanded. Peaches yawned, catching the trailing end of his tail.

“You won’t leave me … will you?”

“I will be right here till Wukong gets back.”

It was hours later when Macaque heard his brother step into their rooms. Wukong had bathed and cleaned himself elsewhere from the smell of the water and floral oils coming off of him. They both knew how Peaches had an aversion to the scent of blood. The monkey king was across the room and hovering over the pillow pit where she slept.

“How is she?” Wukong asked. All the rage had gone from him. Only worry remained. His tiny little wife… he could still see the Tiger hovering above her, his jaws parted wide over her throat to devour. It made Wukong wish to break his muzzle again.

“Worn out. The cuts are superficial at best. I stitched them up.” The sheen of white medical gauze and cotton took over one lovely shoulder of Peaches back. Wukong felt his teeth beginning to grit in a threatening smile.

“Why would she go outside?! Peaches isn’t a fool.”

“And she wasn’t one.” Macaque soothed. He was standing now that Wukong was here, making his way to the door slowly. “She went outside because she heard the bastard imitate a baby cry.”

“A baby?”

“She thought it was one of the babies.” Wukongs heart gave a shudder. Of course she would throw caution to the wind. His Peaches loved the children of the mountain almost as much as he himself did. “Peaches said she went out to look and that’s when he leapt at her.”

Wukong felt a bit of his anger ebb. He was never angry at Peaches. He could never be. But anger around how she acted ? … yes. That was a possibility. Hearing how she didn’t go out until she thought it was a baby- well. He couldn’t fault her for that.

“The sentries are dead.” Wukong had come across their bodies after restraining the tiger demon. Seeing his peoples cut throats and crumpled bodies had not soothed his anger. He hoped the tiger healed quickly enough so he could repay them for each of his peoples lives. “The tiger killed them. He thought he could kill me by swinging his fancy sword. Too bad it snapped on the first try.”

“Did you leave him alive?” Macaque was at the door now, his fists uncurled.

“He’s somewhere beneath us in a wet cave. I broke all the bones in his body. But … I Left the tail for you.”

“Good.” The door opened and his brother was gone.

Wukong stared at Peaches as she slept for a moment. He had almost lost her today. He half wanted to wake her up and shake her and the other half just wanted to keep her tucked away and safe inside the mountain. Wukong would pull promises and such from her tomorrow. In fact, he may have to teach her some basic self defense. She would never be able to stop a full demonic beast. It would ease his mind however - it would sooth him and settle the fur that kept rising along his back- if she at least had an understanding of what tricks and traits demons used to tempt food out of hiding.

Wukong slid into the nest, settling himself so he didn’t jostle her awake. Tomorrow he could sit her down and tell her the new precautions he would have to merit out. A new guard, lessons in defense, maybe even a copy of him nearby or in the shape of some common item… Wukong could gift her a hairpin each morning and do her hair with a copy of himself. A magical copy that would have ears out for any mischief she may wind up falling into.

It would give her the illusion of freedom without telling her I put a spy on her person. That made Wukong feel better. For the next few days however, she wasn’t leaving his side. He didn’t care if she cried out or pouted or started to throw things. They had almost lost her.

Peaches half woke with a start as Wukong adjusted the blankets about her. Her face came upward, staring and trying to see all about.

“Wukong?”

“It’s just me… you can go back to sleep.”

To his astonishment Peaches shifted, settling herself into his chest. Wukong welcomed her tangle, twining has hands into her hair as she tugged on his fur. Her cheek was pressed to his chest where his heart must be hammering beneath. The Monkey king made soothing chirps and soft calls to her, a reassurance of safety and care. Soon enough her fingers relaxed again as she fell into sleep.

He kissed her temple and nose, twirling his fingers through her hair. It was just as soothing for him as it probably was for her.

Wukong was glad the tiger had been able to survive him. He couldn’t wait to gift his pelt to her when he was finished with him.

If Macaque didn’t kill him after all.

[unknownarmageddon]

Christ Alive

a kross oneshot. in which they go to a party cackles

based on the song skeletone by bones uk rental suits au belongs to me and @psycho-chair

The parking lot was mostly empty, save for two, maybe three, cars. It was dark, the only thing visible in the black murk past the washed out lights of the gas station’s overhang was the passing specks of car headlights. 

    Cross leaned on the elbow he held propped on the counter, tried to tune out the mediocre mainstream music playing distantly over the store’s speakers, and watched the only customer inside idle about the shelves. 

The lights buzzed. two of the fridges against the back wall flickered every so often.

      The door chimed as it was opened, and another stranger entered. They wanted 50 dollars’ worth on pump three. And a pack of cigarettes. The door chimed again, then they were gone. 

The lights buzzed. The fridges flickered. Everything was delved in a cool colored haze. 

     The last remaining person in the store bought two drinks. With the dinging of the door as they left, a father and two kids entered. They piled their spoils, a mound of snacks, onto the counter.

      There were several minutes of vacancy. Nobody in the store but him. It felt like an eternity, always did. Cross fiddled with the shelves behind him to waste time. 

Buzzing lights. Uneven churring from the slushy machine in the back. 

        The door chimed. Footsteps, sneakers scuffing on tile. 

Cross turned, and could practically feel the grin boring into him.

Him again. 

    He was leaning forward over the counter with his arms crossed in front of him. His jacket had obtained a few new stains, both red and black. The faint, electric sound of music played from the chunky maroon headphones around his neck. 

Cross felt himself grin for a moment. He couldn’t help it.

“Hey pretty boy.” He looked at Cross with deep dark sockets. 

“Killer.” 

“Fancy seeing you here.” Killer quipped. 

    He pulled himself up to sit on the back edge of the counter, still facing Cross. Cross furrowed his brows. 

“I told you to stop sitting on the counter.”

Killer hardly considered moving. His soul hummed like even it was laughing. “You’re gonna have to make me, sweetheart.” 

Cross knew that wouldn’t have worked. And he didn’t really care, not enough to force him. 

“You miss me?” Killer quipped.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Cross replied. 

Killer laughed. “I’m wounded.” 

     Cross turned back to the shelf, and Killer slid off the counter to stand next to him. 

    “Ya got any plans tonight? Other than the blast you’re clearly havin’ already.” Killer murmured, hands shoved the pockets of his jacket. The fabric of he and Cross’s clothes brushed as they just almost touched, they were that close.

When did Cross ever have plans? He shook his head. 

Killer’s grin got wider. Cross narrowed his eyes at him. What was he planning.

     Killer hopped back over the counter and headed for one of the fridges in the back. Cross leaned over the counter on his elbows to watch him. 

“Y’know, there’s gonna be a party tonight. At ten.” Killer jerked open the door and crouched, now partially obscured by the shelf behind him. His voice came to Cross echoed by the distance.

“Where?”

“Some guy’s place in town, I dunno, all I’ve got is the address. He was really talkin’ a big talk, I wanna see if he’s full of shit or not.” Cross could tell he was grinning. He had that kinda voice. 

“And you want me to go with you.” Cross responded after a pause. 

From the fridge Killer retrieved two energy drinks. He stood and the door was closed with a shove from his foot. 

“Exactly.” 

He hesitated, apparently for dramatic effect knowing him, and waited for an answer.

“…I’m not going.” 

“C’monnn, you gotta get outta this boring ass gas station sometime. Have an actual good time.” Killer pressed.  

“I don’t do parties.”

“How bad could it possibly be?” 

“I doubt I would miss out on much.” Cross responded.

“You’d never know. Unless you go.” Killer persisted.

       Cross didn’t respond after that. He stared at the tile in front of Killer’s feet, turning the notion over in his mind. He knew damn well that if Killer wanted something he’d find a way to get it, so he doubted how much good resisting would do. 

      Killer weaved through the aisles to the middle of the store, then went for the far back. He cracked one of the energy drinks. 

“When are you gonna start paying for those?” Cross called to him. 

“You think about that party, ‘kay, pretty boy? Think about it.” Killer called back instead and pulled the headphones on. He vanished among the shelves. Cross saw the top of the storage room door as it opened, then closed.

      Cross was left alone in the store again. The trickle of costumers came and went, and he worked on autopilot. His mind was occupied by the party and the loiterer in the storage room.

     His first reaction was to not go. And he trusted that reaction. All he knew about it was that it would be loud and crammed with people he likely didn’t want to be around. And that he wouldn’t know anyone but Killer. He didn’t think— no he knew it wouldn’t be worth it. 

     But who knew how well Killer would take that news. And he kind of had a point about getting out of the gas station. 

      Cross worked for three more hours. Occasionally he would watch Killer slink from the back to steal another energy drink or two, or a bag of chips. Cross pretended not to notice. Every time Killer passed the counter he would toss a smug grin at Cross. Meant only for Cross. The kind that loosely hid all the kinds of things he would say out loud if they were alone. Cross pretended not to notice those, too. 

        He would’ve stopped him, confronted him again for never paying for what he took. But Cross didn’t exactly want to be on the receiving end of that knife he flashed the night they met. And when Killer was around he had company, and the extra shitty customers never came back. It was a fair trade. So what if a few cans went missing here and there. 

        When Cross’s shift came to an end he left the counter in favor of the storage room. The smell of smoke flooded his nose the minute he pushed open the door. It wasn’t invasive, but it was noticeable enough whenever you walked in. It’d always smelled like smoke in here, after Killer showed up.

           The culprit sat on the floor in the corner beside the door. He had fully tucked himself into that corner, in the gap between boxes and freezers that lined a few of the walls. He had one leg propped on the other, and the magazine he held obscured his face. Cross could still hear Killer’s music blasting through his headphones even from where he stood. 

“My shift’s over. You gotta leave.” Cross greeted him.

Killer pulled the headphones down and looked up over the edge of the magazine. He hadn’t heard him.

“Shift’s over.” Cross repeated. 

The music cut off; the magazine was shoved under a shelf. “You got it, boss.”

He pulled himself to his feet and left his corner to push past Cross, who tailed him in return. 

     The gas station’s front door chimed for the last time as they exited out onto the pavement in front of it. It was cold, Cross zipped up his jacket. His breath clouded in front of him as he watched insects buzz around the precious glow of the station’s lights. 

     After a moment of standing he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around at the vacant parking lot, awkwardly awaiting for whatever Killer was going to do. He didn’t trust him enough to leave first. 

His eyes landed on him. 

“What time’s it?” Killer asked.

Cross checked his phone. “Nine forty.” 

      Killer hopped off the slight incline of the pavement and moved through the darkness. To Cross he became a raccoon you’d see outside your garage. So blanketed in darkness it doesn’t look much like anything at all. Except, his soul provided a red halo around his silhouette. 

“You comin’?” Killer called over his shoulder and stopped. It was more of a request than a question. 

Hesitation. Cross glanced to his left, then back at Killer. “No?”

“You scared, sweetheart?” Killer replied. He could barely see him, but again Cross could tell he was grinning.

“No.” 

“C’mon, just this once. It’s just a party. One time’s not gonna hurt anything.” He said. More firmly, sharply. 

Killer gestured with his head, nodding, beckoning Cross to come with him.

“You always say that.”

“Am I wrong? Let’s live a little. Nothin’s gonna happen.” He spread out his arms, turning on his heel to look back at Cross. 

Cross scowled doubtfully. He’s known Killer for long enough to at least know going anywhere with him didn’t have any guarantees of anything. 

    Killer slunk back toward Cross and grabbed him firmly by the zipper of his jacket, pulling him down so their faces were level. His face was warmed by Killer’s breath. Killer looked him over, then dead on. 

Killer huffed a laugh. “You’re scared.”

     Cross paused for a long time. A car alarm started from somewhere distant in the dark. Then it was quiet again. 

“We’ll take the truck.” He decided eventually, flatly.

      Killer’s eyes widened. He released Cross and ran for said truck, which was parked back in front of the gas station. It was small, old, and white; one of those trucks that didn’t have back seats, and the front was one long singular bench with seatbelts that just went across the lap. 

      Killer was grinning, exclaiming to himself, in his triumph. He had gotten Cross to cave, andthey were taking the truck. 

      Killer rapped on the truck’s side with his palm as he stepped along it toward the door. He tried the door prematurely, eagerly. It was still locked. Then there was a click as Cross pressed a button on the interior of the driver side door and the rest of the doors unlocked. Killer jerked his open to slide into the passenger side; Cross got in after him, with less enthusiasm. 

The key met ignition and the vehicle grumbled to life like an aged animal. 

     Its beige leather seats were long worn, its paint was chipped in spots, it was overdo for a wash, and its windows were dusty and still functioned on a crank, but it served its purpose. 

     They left the parking lot. Cross heard Killer fighting with the window beside him, but he eventually got it open. Cold air streamed into the cab. Killer leaned against the door with his shoulder out the window. His feet were kicked up onto the dash. 

    In front of the windshield, dangling from the rear view mirror, hung a silver pendant on a chain and a long-expired air freshener. 

With each imperfection in the pavement they hit the cab bumped. 

“What’s the address?” Cross asked.

     A slip of paper was dug out of Killer’s pocket and examined. He put his legs down. 

“Left, up here.” He pointed, the turn signal clicked in time.

“Go for a bit,” He said now. “Here,” 

“Right, past here and down that road,”

     They drove for a while, mostly in silence save for Killer’s directions and occasional quips or broken humming.   Sometimes the headlights of a passing car or a lone streetlight would illuminate the cab; otherwise it was dark. 

Killer pointed at the windshield again. 

They were here. 

      What Cross saw was the front of an apartment building, one a few notches nicer than his own. That building immediately set the tone for the whole party in stone in Cross’s mind. It was fucking intimidating. He shouldn’t be here. 

   He glanced over at Killer, who was already slipping out of the truck. Cross inhaled and followed. 

———

       Upbeat music he’s heard everywhere a million times blasted through the apartment. Talking, laughing, shouting, all joined it. Lights everywhere, sounds everywhere. So many people were crammed in this single space.

     Cross was made hyper-aware of the presence of the other guests. The way they were dressed, the way they held themselves. They belonged here, he didn’t.

      He became Killer’s shadow. He kept his arms tight to his side, his eyes trained on his feet and Killer’s stride. He followed directly behind him as his companion sauntered through the apartment.

       They collected a few stares. What a sight they must be, two stupid boys wading through somewhere they shouldn’t be, one with stains on his clothes and one in a plain black jacket he’s had since high school. One with oil flowing from his eye sockets, one with an old rusted pickup. 

          Cross liked to imagine the things they whispered to themselves as the skeletons passed. Exclamations of surprise, of judgement. Eyes glued. 

     But, in reality, no one said anything. No one heckled them. He even doubted that many people were paying attention to them. Even still he was all too aware. 

      Finally, he and Killer breached the thick of the waves. Killer was saying something to another guest as he handed Cross a plastic cup of red liquid, which he accepted without much thought. 

“Whad’ya think?” Killer asked Cross and leaned against the table. He gestured with his free hand at everything around them like he was showing it all off. He held his own beverage in the other hand, Cross clutched his with both. 

    Cross didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to think. It was loud. There were way too many people. He’d decide eventually, he thought. 

     Killer lifted his cup to his mouth, then paused and lowered it. He deadpanned at it. 

“This tastes like shit.” 

Cross half-laughed, Killer grinned. 

      They stayed at that table for the duration of three, maybe four, songs. Killer did most of the talking. Cross only listened, offering the occasional hum in agreement or comment. Killer would point out people in the crowd he found notable for whatever reason to him. Made jokes, teased, rambled about menial things. He complained about the music, but he still tapped his finger against his cup in time. 

       Cross kept searching Killer, trying to figure him out. He wondered if he noticed how out of place they were. Or if he cared. But then he thought about it more, and he doubted he did.

     The song changed; Cross didn’t recognize this one. It was slower, but not melancholy. Carried by a steady rhythm and smooth electric guitar. Like the pounding of rain on concrete at night. 

Killer glanced up. “Fuckin’ finally, something good.”

     He set his cup down and pulled away from the table. “Alright I’m tired of standin’.” 

He stood with his back turned a moment, surveying the crowd, thumbs jammed in his shorts pockets, before he swiveled to offer his hand to Cross. “C’mon, you gonna do me the honor?” 

    Cross retracted, set his cup down and put his hands in the pockets of his jacket like he was hiding them. 

“I don’t dance.”

Maybe he would, in any other circumstance. When there weren’t so many people.

“Fuck babe, what do you do?” Killer replied. The corner of his mouth ticked up. 

    He pulled back toward Cross to nudge him with his elbow like he was trying to push him forward. 

“Dude,” Cross laughed. 

“We’re at a party, you gotta dance at least once.” He argued. “It’ll just be me, don’t worry about them.”

Cross conceded. “Just for this song, alright?”

    Cross quickly learned that Killer didn’t know how to dance either. They devolved into a mess of movements, a tangle of limbs. Killer held a hand to Cross’s hip, Cross held one to Killer’s shoulder. Occasionally their hands would intertwine. 

      They exchanged steps off-rhythm. Killer was quick, Cross took strides to catch him. 

      Cross continued to be aware of the other dancers, even here. He couldn’t shake them from his mind. He wasn’t nearly as coordinated, and he had a habit of staying too stiff and rigid. But Killer had enough confidence for both of them.

       All Cross saw was the carpet, his eyes glued to their feet. Making his best effort not to trip. Or get stepped on. He risked a glance up at Killer’s face. He was grinning with the most actual enthusiasm Cross had seen from him tonight, and it became infectious. 

“You keepin’ up, pretty boy?” Killer asked, catching Cross and keeping him from looking back down. 

“You’re horrible at this.” Cross replied.

“And you dance like you’ve taken ballet since kindergarten.” Killer scowled, but his eyes were still grinning. 

     In the last remaining minute of the song they slowed, swayed, leaning into each other. They let the wave of other dancers surge around them. Killer hooked an arm around Cross’s neck, Cross laid his over his shoulders. Cross watched him, awaiting his next move silently. 

Killer took Cross’s left hand and pressed a slow kiss to his knuckles.

Cross decided this party wasn’t that bad, at least.

          Killer’s song ended. They untangled. Cross followed Killer as he slunk over to the apartment’s kitchen, where refreshments were strewn over the counters. The nearby balcony’s door was propped open, and Cross lingered there in the opening. Cool outside air hit his back. 

       Now Killer was chatting up another guy at the table. Like he always did when they went out anywhere. As if out of habit. Cross disregarded them; all he heard was Killer say “is that a challenge?”.  He would’ve dwelled on it more, been more bothered, but he put his attention on everyone else. He scanned the crowd like he expected to be jumped. 

   Beside him Killer returned and he felt him press up against him. He knew he was grinning. His hand wandered Cross’s arm, then his back. He smelled like smoke. What was he after. 

Cross’s face grew warm. His shoulders tensed. But he averted his eyes, kept his focus on the crowd. 

     His gaze landed on one woman in particular, not far from the table. She was surrounded by her own group of people, but for some reason she was staring directly at him, both of them. With this look in her eye.

      Her lips, which were covered in a red smothering of lipstick, ticked down in a grimace. 

What a sight they must be. 

      A wildfire of anger burst up through Cross. His bones grew hot, like he was being burned by it. She made him so fucking mad. He couldn’t process why.

      She hadn’t even said anything. Not yet. But he knew she would. It was a matter of time, with the way she was  looking at them. 

     Cross searched her, trying to gauge her. He knew these kinds of people all too well. 

   He returned her look in a blank stare. In it, he silently poured out every bit of desire he had to wipe that look off on the wall behind her. He doubted he’d actually do something, though. It wasn’t worth whatever hell would come of it. 

Still, it leaked into his voice.

“Someone’s staring.” He said, quietly, and Killer retracted slightly.

      He followed Cross’s gaze. His grin fell. The soul in front of his chest flickered, becoming an unstable ever-shifting shape far from a circle. To Cross it resembled a star nearing on a supernova. 

      He wasn’t being nearly as discrete as Cross; he glared back at her with just as much anger. If not more. Like a dog with teeth bared. 

 His voice dripped venom. “I’ll deal with ‘er.”

     Cross’s companion pulled away from the table and over to the woman. Each step carried a buried intention, buried fury, with it.

Cross felt like someone’s gonna die. 

     Cross blinked and Killer was already in front of her. She said something to him, and he heard Killer shout back at her. He blinked again and Killer’s fist was flying. The woman’s head skewed to the side unnaturally, awkwardly. Then she fell to a heap on the carpet; A painted lady sprawled across the floor like a body bag. 

       She struggled to her elbows, coughed blood onto the carpet. The tease of a grimace became a full-fledged snarl. Her pretty prim lipstick was smeared. 

Cross didn’t hear anything. Hardly even saw anything but Killer and the woman. Only the pounding of blood in his ears and flashing lights in the corner of his vision. 

A needle of sudden anxiety, anticipation, stabbed Cross. Nothing good was gonna come from this.

If they hadn’t been before, everyone was certainly staring now. 

     The few nearest were on Killer like a pack of wolves to a carcass.

Someone was gonna die. 

       The surge consumed Killer. Shouting roared over the music. Cross barely saw him as he clawed, fought, screamed. Grinned. The suddenness of it all startled Cross out of his anger. 

     Two attackers were thrown back, blood streaming from their noses. Two more took their place. 

       At some point Killer’s jacket slipped,  leaving shoulders exposed. And one of his sleeves was torn now. Bits of bleach-white bone were visible like Cross was peaking through a break in the blinds. 

         For a moment, he just stood and watched. Watched Killer fight like an animal. Admired the fluidity of his movements. Stared into the flames. 

God,

He couldn’t help it. 

Maybe this is what he came to this dumb party for. 

       Killer got tackled by two guys much larger than him and Cross, simultaneously, was thrown into the mess by someone behind him he didn’t see. It was like he was in a hornet’s nest. It was confusing, loud, violent. He didn’t know what to do, how to do it.

        Somehow, he gathered himself and he and Killer managed to push back the swarm. Everything broke like oil and water, if only for a moment. 

        Killer now stood on Cross’s right, clutching his wrist tight in his hand. On the other, his left, was a smear of red lipstick. He held it curled in a fist. 

Cross’s magic pounded in his ears.

    There was a single heartbeat of still, then they were on them again, just as quick. They tore at them, stampeded over them. Except now Cross was in the middle of it. And at that moment he wanted to be anywhere else. But he didn’t really, either. This was where Killer was. 

It became war.

     Like with dancing, Cross wasn’t as confident a fighter as Killer. And he doubted his skills. But he wasn’t harmless, he hoped. 

      He tried to stay close to Killer, to not lose him to it all. That became his only goal. To not lose Killer, and to survive. 

      Cross grabbed another guy by the shirt and pulled him off of Killer, then had to spin to push someone different back with a strike from the elbow. It was overwhelming, smothering. Everyone on every side at all times. 

        Occasionally he got glances of Killer as he would stumble backward, only to run back in, laughing. He never stayed in range of who he fought, always jumping in and back out. Circling, a wolf nipping at the ankles of an elk. But he hit hard, knew what he was doing. 

          Warm blood ran into Cross’s eye, obscuring his vision. He must’ve busted an eyebrow. 

         Even before that, his vision became blurred. All he saw were movements. He focused everything on not drowning. Where was Killer? He had lost sight of him at some point. But the thought was ripped from his mind as he sustained a kick to the back and staggered. He gritted his teeth and returned the hit, pushed someone he didn’t see long enough to identify away. He rammed someone else with his shoulder. 

      Then he took another, harder, blow. This time to the side of the head. He felt like his whole skull was jarred and he staggered again, almost falling this time. 

Someone grabbed his wrist. 

It was Killer.

     He ripped Cross from it all, fingers dug into his arm. Then they were running. He knew they were being followed. Killer shouted something. At some point they were in a stairwell, descending. Pounding in his skull was all he heard. 

Suddenly, cold night air.

They were outside. There was Cross’s truck.

       They ran to it and pulled the door’s open so hard he was surprised they weren’t thrown off their hinges. They were slammed closed just as hard.

       Cross stuck the keys in the ignition and turned as fast as he could manage. 

       Six remaining pursuers flooded from the apartment. They tried to follow, yelled curses and profanities. 

“Go, go, go!” Killer shouted.

“I’m trying!”

     They pulled out and ended back on the road. 

      Finally, things started to slow back down. But Cross still felt like he wasn’t there. He felt like he was still at that party, busting his knuckles on strangers out for his blood. He didn’t even feel relief yet, that they were in the safety of Cross’s truck now. He didn’t feel much of anything.

    The first thing Cross fully registered was Killer slamming his arm on the side of the door four times. “Holy shit!” 

He put his hand to his head. “Holy shit.” 

    He was making an expression Cross couldn’t read, or place. Was it excitement? Surprise? Detest? Fear? Maybe just adrenaline. He was grinning. But he always was. His eyes were wide. Like he had just gotten off a rollercoaster. 

Cross glanced at him again after checking the road. “You’re bleeding.”

He was, from the nose. 

“So’re you.” 

     Cross put a finger to his eyebrow and felt warm liquid. The wound stung, he just now noticed. He wouldn’t notice the rest of his pain until much later, when the adrenaline was out of his system. 

“Dude that was fucking insane.” Killer breathed. He almost laughed as he said it. 

“It was worth it, though.” He added. “God, getting to wipe that look off her face,” 

“Mm,” Cross hummed absently. Was it worth it? Part of him agreed silently. 

“Showed her. Fucking showed her.” Killer continued, mostly to himself.

      “You’re alright?” Cross asked, eyes pinned to the road. He still felt jittery. He hated having to sit here this long. 

“Oh, what, me? Yeah I’m fine, I’m fine. Nothin’ I can’t handle.” Killer replied. He wiped at his nose, then cleaned the remaining lipstick from his hand on his jacket. 

He was so… unaffected. Like this was an everyday occurrence for him. Maybe it was. 

      Cross rubbed the blood from his brow again. It hadn’t stopped bleeding yet. He wondered how bad it was. But he didn’t check the rearview mirror for his reflection. 

He felt Killer’s eyes on him.

“It’s a look, y’know.” Killer quipped. 

Cross laughed quietly. “What, having dried blood on my face?”

      They drove in silence for a while. Cross’s soul was still pounding. At some point he collected himself enough to remember to put on his seatbelt. He listened to the occasional clicking of the turn signal and Killer’s mindless tapping. It grounded him, pulled him away from the party. 

“I didn’t know you could fight like that.” Killer said eventually. “Didn’t think you had it in ya.” 

“I was just trying not to get killed.” Cross responded dryly, like it was a fact. He hadn’t thought it was that impressive. 

Killer laughed. Even though it was the truth.

“Wasn’t too bad, either. I could teach ya a thing or two, though. If you wanted.” 

Killer offered with a grin.

Cross considered it just for a moment. “I think I’m fine.”

“Your loss. You think about it, ‘kay?” Killer replied. “I’d love t’see what you could do if you knew what you were doin’” 

Cross just hoped he wouldn’t find himself in a situation where he needed to know what he was doing.

      Killer leaned forward to start messing with the truck’s radio. He flicked through stations and static. 

“I didn’t expect that many people to come after us.” Cross said. 

“Yeah, god, it was like everyone at that party was pissed.”

“What’d she say? I saw her say something to you.” Cross asked.

“What d’you think? Some stupid shit about us. I dunno, I don’t remember.” Killer said, scowling at the radio. Cross knew he remembered, but he didn’t press. 

Killer eventually found a station he was satisfied with and leaned back. Now a loud, quick, shouty rock song Cross hadn’t heard quietly filled the background of the cab. 

Killer stretched out his arms. “Well, I’d consider tonight a success.” 

Cross stared at him.

Killer laughed. “Eyes on the road, sweetheart,”

———

        After what felt like an eternity they ended up at Cross’s apartment. Cross fumbled with keys to unlock the door and they stumbled inside. Everything was dark, lit only by the lights of the street and a standing lamp near the door Cross bothered to flick on as they entered. 

        The first thing Cross did was go for the fridge in the conjoined kitchen. It was mostly empty, but he found a cold canned drink and tossed it to Killer. He pressed it to limbs, to his face, soothing the bruises he had acquired. 

         He had a faint, dark ring around one of his eye sockets in the start of a black eye. Cross took his wrist and slowly, firmly, guided his hand to the socket. 

“You caused a lot of trouble.” Cross murmured, sighing, as he held his hand there. 

“You saw the way she was looking at us.” Killer replied sharply.

Cross retracted his hand, stood there to look at him. “Still,” 

“She was basically just askin’ for it, anyway. No one else was gonna do it.” Killer argued.

“I think I’m gonna have a headache for a week. Thanks to you.” Cross said, though he was just barely smiling.

“You’re welcome.” Killer grinned.

“Mm.”

          After, the can was handed back to Cross. It was just barely warmer, just barely flecked with blood. He pressed it to his own bruises, and to his eyebrow. The start of a headache stabbed at him. 

            Cross watched Killer as he fixed his jacket from where it had fallen off his shoulders. Just as closely as when he had watched him fight.

He felt both of them linger there, unsure. Awkward. Mutually asking “what now?”

“Well, it’s been a hell of a night, but I better be gettin’ outta here. I’m a busy man, y’know.” Killer said finally, flicking up his hood over his head. 

“Already?” Cross asked. 

Of course.

“Don’t worry, you’re not gettin’ rid of me that easy. I’ll be back.” Killer said, brushed up against Cross as he headed for the door, grinning up at him. He caught Cross’s hand and held it in his for just a moment. 

      ‘I’ll be back’ could’ve meant a myriad of things. Cross could see him tomorrow. Maybe in a few hours, even. Or he could see him next in however many days.

      Cross’s mouth teased a smile and he shook his head. He followed him to the doorway, where Killer lingered, holding the door open with one hand. 

It sounded like it was raining outside. 

     For some reason, in that moment Cross remembered what Killer had said at the gas station, before they left. 

His eyes widened, then narrowed at him. “You’re such a liar. You said nothing would happen.” 

“Your favorite liar.” Killer grinned.

    He leaned farther through the doorway toward him and pressed a kiss to Cross’s teeth, as if it was some kind of weird apology. It tasted like smoke. And blood. Cross let it happen, didn’t want it to end as quick as it did. 

“We should do this again sometime.” 

Then it was over, Killer was gone, and all Cross saw was the door as it clicked closed.

[ganondoodle]

utterly random late night panic thoughts but

if you read my zelda comic and like it i love and appreciate you but i really do need to be upfront about it being very much a self indulgent enemies to lovers story with a villain at the center that has done bad but isnt bad at his core and is struggeling to come to terms with the fact that he doesnt actually want to be the evil beast he and almost everyone else believes he should be

yes im one of those people ... fake villain fans or something ... i think .. i dont know the rules to that ... q-q

[smilesrobotlover]

First|| <-prev next-> (soon)

AO3

Chapter 11- Attack on Castle Town

It was infuriating

Two whole days had passed since Link and Rusl arrived to Castle Town, yet it felt like no one was making an effort to come up with a plan. They had talked about hunting the beast down, luring it in, or waiting to see when it would attack again to then strike. But it felt like they were talking in circles, the conversation melting into the talk of the mundane.

Rusl, of course, loved visiting with his friends and talking to them about whatever came to mind, but not now. Not when that thing just attacked his children and threatened his home. The anxiety ate up at him, and he found himself unable to sit still at the table where everyone else sat. So he stood in the corner, his arms crossed as he glared at the others.

“So we should head to Faron since it was in Ordon last night, right?” Shad asked, staring at the map.

“No, it was just in Faron, it might’ve moved,” Link corrected.

“Didn’t sound like it moved from when it first attacked you guys,” Ashei butted in, her arms crossed at the table.

Link pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “I guess…”

“So we head to Faron?” Auru suggested, and Sheik finally stepped into the conversation.

“It seems like the most logical place to go, but we need to know how to fight this monster. If five soldiers couldn’t kill it, then I doubt six of us could.”

“Yes, but we do have one more person,” Shad said, his finger in the air, “and we’re more prepared.”

“It’s not like the soldiers of Hyrule are anything impressive,” Auru muttered, and Sheik looked away.

“Will you be fighting though Shad?” Link asked, and Shad gave him an offended look.

“Why—of course, old boy! I may not wield a sword but I have a weapon stronger than that!” The scholar patted his book, and Auru snorted.

“Are you going to throw the book at the monster?”

The group erupted into laughter and Rusl rolled his eyes. They were getting off track again.

“No! I have my head right here!” Shad defended himself, and Auru laughed harder.

“Great! So we’ll use your head as a weapon when the rest of ours break!”

“I meant my brain!” Shad stood up in fury, but his fiance pulled him back down, an amused smile on her face.

“We get what you mean, Shad,” she said and gave him a peck on the cheek. Rusl sighed and cleared his throat loudly, catching the attention of Auru and Link. His son looked down, a slightly guilty look on his face, and his fingers interlocked together.

“Well, we may have a better chance than the soldiers, but we still need a plan,” he said, and Rusl felt relieved that they were finally strategizing. He and Link discussed strategies several times, but ultimately they wanted to brainstorm with the others for more ideas.

“You fought the beasts, old boy,” Shad started, his anger having disappeared entirely, “what is your suggestion?”

Link looked down, his eyebrows furrowed. “I… I don’t know. This isn’t a normal shadow beast.”

“I remember they were a challenge,” Auru contemplated. “Having to kill them all at the same time was… infuriating.”

“They just kept coming back to life,” Ashei added, and the rest of the group nodded.

“Well, as long as you killed them at the same time, they were relatively easy,” Link said. “But this beast is alone, so I don’t think we have to worry about it coming back to life once it’s dead. It’s just… tough.”

Sheik nodded. “It has to have a weakness though. We will weaken it, keep our distance, and…” they grabbed their right hand, “perhaps we could get the light spirit’s assistance? If it’s from the twilight, I doubt pure, divine light will feel good, hm?”

Link’s eyes widened as if he realized something and he nodded. “That’s a great idea, Sheik. We’ll get the light spirits to help weaken it, and while it’s down, we’ll give it everything we have.”

The group seemed to agree with the plan—if Rusl could even call it a plan—and Auru raised his drink.

“To victory then,” he cheered, and the others raised their own, with Link simply bumping his fist since he didn’t have one. Rusl let out a sigh and pushed his frustrations aside. He wasn’t sleeping well, and the anxiety felt like it was eating him up inside, so he was much more quick to anger than normal. But he had to try to be patient—they were going to get to deal with the threat, he knew it. He just had to slow down with the rest of them.

“Alright, let’s head out then,” Rusl muttered, stepping closer to the group, but Sheik stood up.

“Not yet. I must convey this information with some… allies. They may help if something were to go wrong.”

Link and Ashei seemed understanding while Auru and Shad seemed indifferent, but Rusl was exasperated.

“What? We’re not—when will you be back?” He asked, a sharpness to his voice as his patience was wearing thin.

“I’m not sure, hopefully before tonight—”

“Tonight? Where in the spirit’s name will you be going?” He snapped. Sheik’s eyes widened in surprise and they looked around uncomfortably.

“I just have things I need to do,” they muttered, and Link looked up at his pa, a worried expression on his face.

“We don’t have time! We should leave now and deal with it before it takes more people!” Rusl argued, and Auru stood up.

“If what Sheik says is true, then we should get help if something were to go wrong. Calm down—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Rusl shouted, leaving everyone surprised. “You don’t know what type of a threat this thing is! If we wait any longer, we could lose it!”

“Rusl,” Auru started, his hands raised in an effort to calm him. “I know, but we are merely six people… and… really it’d only be four of you physically fighting it—I may not be able to do much. We need all the help we can get.”

“But it’ll be too late! We won’t be able to travel until the morning!”

Shad hummed. “Maybe leaving at night would help us find it better.”

“No, that's a horrible idea,” Link jumped in, and Rusl let out a groan.

“I can’t sit around any longer, I need this thing dead!”

“Goddesses, what has gotten into you?” Auru asked. “You were perfectly fine this morning—”

“That was because I thought we were safe during the day,” Rusl spat. “I thought we had more time as long as everyone stayed in at night. But no, it’s dangerous no matter what time it is! We can’t stall anymore!”

Everyone looked at each other. Ashei looked understanding, Sheik looked guilty, while Link looked uncomfortable at the outburst. Rusl blinked a few times and let out a sigh, running his hands through his hair.

“I–I’m sorry I…” He started, but he couldn’t get the words out. He looked up at Auru who stared blankly at him and he turned away. “You do what you need to do Sheik, I’m gonna go cool my head,” he said softly, and he left the backroom, ignoring Telma’s confused look as he burst through the door to the bar. He didn’t know where he was going—he supposed he was simply walking around the town to clear his head. The lack of sleep from the past few nights was catching up to him, and the fear surrounding the shadow beast plagued his waking mind. He felt like he couldn’t escape it, and he just wanted it taken care of so he could finally rest. He supposed with his own children and grandson having to get involved, it finally caused him to break.

The loud noises of the town wasn’t doing him any favors, so he went through the southern gate to escape to somewhere quieter, leaving behind the shops lined up next to Telma’s bar and entering a clearing. It was empty and peaceful, with a fountain in between cobblestone stairs that poured out the bluest water. Rusl walked to the fountain and kneeled, the anxiety and anger leaving his body to make way for vulnerability. He opened his heart and prayed.

He didn’t know who he was praying to; he wasn’t exactly praying to Ordona, or the light spirits themselves. But he found himself praying to someone. He prayed that he and the others would be safe, he prayed that his children would be safe, and he prayed that his wife would be protected. Goddesses she must’ve been worried sick over them—she always got extremely upset over these things. He hoped that she would know that the children were safe, and that she wouldn’t blame herself for what happened. As he prayed, tears started to trickle out of his eyes, and he leaned forward to rest his head against the stone. He was so tired, so tired from everything that happened to him from the past few days. The beast would plague his mind every moment, even if he was asleep. He couldn’t escape it no matter what he did, and now his own family was involved—his own children.

“Papa?”

Rela’s soft voice broke the silence, causing Rusl to sit up and turn his head to look at his daughter. He wiped his tears quickly and forced a smile, and she looked nervous as her hands fidgeted with each other.

“Rela, what the heck are you doin’ out here by yourself?” Rusl asked. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I… Uh… I couldn’t sleep,” she said softly. “I wanted to talk to you and I saw you walk out so I followed you and… uh…”

Rusl’s smile went away and he sighed. “I don’t want you by yourself in town. Monsters ain’t the only thing we need to look out for.”

“I know… but…” Rela’s arms wrapped around her waist. Her pa gave a more genuine smile and gestured for her to join him. She was hesitant, but she finally joined him, kneeling on the ground as she stared at the fountain. Rusl stared at her for a moment and finally pulled her close, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as she leaned into his hug. She was never a touchy person, always hating his hugs and kisses, so he made sure to enjoy any moment where she enjoyed his touch.

“Um… papa….” Rela started, her fingers fidgeting more now. “I need to tell you something.”

Rusl raised an eyebrow and pulled away to fully look at her. “What is it?”

“The reason… um… the reason that me and Colin and Kori are here is that… um…”

“The monster?”

Rela shook her head, shame apparent on her face. “No… I mean—yes—but… it’s my fault we’re here.”

Rusl frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I was… I was tryn’a teach Kori how to sword fight ‘cause I knew that there was a monster in the woods but… I accidentally left your wooden swords in the water at the spring and I went to go get them and…” Rela sighed. “I dragged everyone into it ‘cause I was dumb… I’m sorry papa.”

“Oh.” Rusl certainly wasn’t expecting Rela to say any of that. “So… y’all left Ordon?”

“Well… me and Kori were practicin’ in Ordon spring, but we met the soldiers and we showed them where y’all found the monster…” Rela sighed. “But we wouldn’t have been there in the first place if not for me. I’m sorry.”

Rusl stared, not knowing how to react. He could be angry, he could be sad, or he could be horrified, but he brushed it all away. She shouldn’t blame herself.

“Sweetie, I wasn’t clear enough with y’all,” he said softly, looking down at her. She did not look back up at him. “You didn’t understand the danger we were in. I certainly didn’t make it more clear. Don’t put all the blame on yourself.”

Rela frowned. “But… I still left.”

“Not on purpose. And I suppose I should’ve told y’all to stay away from the spring.” Rusl let out another sigh and he gave Rela a squeeze. “Besides, it’s in the past. Me and Link are gonna head out tomorrow to fight it. I want y’all to stick with Colin here until it’s safe, ok?”

Rela nodded. “Ok…”

“Wait, we’re not goin’ home—”

Rusl and Rela flinched at Kori who was suddenly behind them, with Rusl grabbing his daughter closer to him as he moved from the young twilian. Kori watched them with a bewildered expression as they stared horrified, and Rusl let out a breathy laugh.

“Spirits above, Kori. You scared the living daylights outta me!” He breathed, letting Rela go. “Why’re you here?”

“I heard Rela leave,” he answered simply, and Rusl rolled his eyes with an annoyed smile.

“Ok, no more going out into Castle Town by yourselves, ok?” He scolded. Kori looked down and tapped his feet on the cobblestone, and Rusl raised an eyebrow. “Where’d you come from anyways? I didn’t hear you at all.”

“Oh, I was in the shadows!” He answered, and Rusl and Rela glanced at each other.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Rela asked, and Rusl let out a sigh.

“Watch your language sweetie. And Kori, I have to ask as well. What do you mean you were ‘in the shadows’?”

Kori grinned, his dimples appearing just below his black markings. “Watch this!”

To Rusl’s surprise, his grandson suddenly morphed into a dark figure, diving into his and Rela’s shadow next to them. Rela jumped to her feet and stared at her own shadow wide eyed, Kori’s little blue eyes appearing to stare back.

“Kori? Since when could you do that?” She yelled out, and Kori emerged from the shadows, giggling slightly.

“Since last night.”

“And you’re mentioning it now? Do you realize how cool that power is? You can hide in the shadows!”

Rela and Kori began to chatter excitedly over his new power, while Rusl glanced around at the empty plain in front of him. The wind blew slightly, the sunlight dimmed, and an uneasy feeling began to overwhelm him. He stood up and started to nudge the kids closer to the gate, checking behind him to make sure he wasn’t being followed. There was nothing there, but he still hurriedly pushed the kids to safety.

“Alright, it’s time to head back to the bar,” he said, his arms wrapped around the two. “And I’m serious about not traveling alone in town. It’s dangerous, ok?”

“Yes papa.”

“Ok grandpa!”

Rusl smiled, but it quickly faded as he thought about the two, his babies, facing such a horrifying monster…

They were too young, too innocent to see such horrors. Goddesses, what kind of a man was he—what kind of a father was he—to let them suffer so? His grip on them tightened as he led them through the busy town, determination flowing through him. He wasn’t going to fail again— he was going to protect them. Even if it killed him.

“Kitties!”

Kori suddenly pulled away from Rusl, running to a home with cats in the front playing with a ball. Rusl sighed, but he allowed the children to play with the cats, not really wanting to see the others just yet.

“Hi baby,” Kori cooed, holding his hand out for a kitten, who sniffed at his hand cautiously. Rela tapped the ball, sending it rolling for the other cats to chase after, and she giggled as they pounced each other. Rusl wished he could enjoy watching them play, but a sinking feeling of dread made him antsy, and he kept looking around him as if he were to be attacked any second. The townsfolk seemed to be anxious as well, with them hurrying to the homes and emptying the streets. Rusl turned to the kids and tapped Rela’s shoulder, gesturing to the direction of the bar with his head.

“It’s time to go. Say goodbye to the kitties.”

“Aw, but he just started to like me!” Kori whined, holding the kitten in his arms.

“I’m sorry kid, but it’s time to head back. Come on.”

Kori pouted but obeyed, reluctantly leaving the kitty behind. Rusl was pushing them faster now, wanting to get inside the bar as soon as possible, which clearly annoyed them with his hands gripping their shoulders.

“What’s the matter, grandpa Rusl?” Kori asked, glancing at Rusl’s hand.

“Nothin’, I just think it’s best if we head inside. A storm might be comin’.”

“Well you don’t have to grab my shoulder like that!” Rela complained, trying to shake off his hand as she spun around. “I can walk on my own you kno—”

A scream from his daughter interrupted her, and Rusl moved on instinct, grabbing the two children and sprinting towards crates for cover. Behind him he heard a slam along with screams, and when he turned, the beast was watching him, snarling growling.

The beast… the shadow beast… it was here—it was here.

Was it following them?

The beast’s snarl was aimed at him, and Rusl froze in fear, the fear of that night returning to him in full force. He was in danger, it was going to kill him, he was going to die, he was going to die he was going to die—

Rela screamed again in fear, burying her face in Rusl’s shirt while Kori remained quiet and stiff, which snapped him out of his stupor. It wasn’t just him that was in danger, but his children. By the goddesses he wasn’t going to let this thing hurt them again.

The shadow beast watched him, as if waiting for him to make a move. Its black, leathery skin looked like a void against the light cobblestone, save for the yellow teeth that dripped a black goo out of its mouth, staining the stone. It didn’t look different from when Rusl first encountered it, just as horrifying as before, yet it felt far more powerful, with a dark magic emanating from it. People were screaming in the town, running like wild animals to get away from the beast, but Rusl ignored them, shoving Rela and Kori behind him.

“Rela, get Kori to Telma’s bar and tell the others to come here,” he commanded, keeping his eyes on the beast as it stared.

“B-b-but p-pa–” Rela stuttered, but Rusl pushed her away.

“Get away from here!” He yelled, causing Rela to flinch, but she got up, trying to drag Kori behind her, though the boy was frozen.

Right as she and Kori moved though, the beast reacted and began to charge at the two. Rusl gasped and grabbed a crate, swinging it and throwing it right at the beast, which stopped it before it could reach the children. The crate shattered on impact, allowing Rusl to grab a broken piece to use as a makeshift weapon against the beast. It wasn’t as good as a sword, but hopefully it’d be enough to buy Rela and Kori time. Rusl swung the broken piece at the beast’s head before it was able to fully recover, it being almost pathetic at how little it reacted from the hit. After the wooden piece bounced off its head, it turned and snapped its jaws at Rusl, the teeth smacking against each other when it missed.

“Come on! Over here!” He shouted, trying to divert its attention from where Rela and Kori were, which worked for a moment as it turned its head to look at him.

“Come on Kori! Move!” Rusl heard Rela shout, and it drew the beast’s attention back to them. To Rusl’s horror, Kori was frozen in fear, staring at the beast with wide eyes as Rela tried to drag him back to the bar. Rusl sprinted to them just as the beast charged. Rela screamed and ran away, her hand slipping from Kori’s as she tried to pull him with her, leaving him alone as the beast got closer and closer. But Rusl got to him first.

He grabbed his grandson and rolled out of the way, dodging the beast’s rampage. Rusl searched for his daughter, but she was long gone, and the beast recovered too fast for him to stall any longer. He sent a prayer to the spirits to keep Rela safe and he ran to Malo Mart, slamming the door and setting Kori down. The poor boy was still frozen, his breathing rapid and tears forming in his eyes. Rusl moved him away from the door, cupping his face.

“Kori, look at me,” he said as calmly as he could as the boy started to sob. “Kori, I need you to be brave for me, ok? Hide out here, and do not come out unless I say so, ok?”

Kori stood sobbing for a moment, and Rusl wiped his tears and readjusted his head so he was looking at him.

“Kori, everything is going to be ok, ok?” He reassured, and he buried the boy in a hug. “Now hide in the shadows or whatever it is you can do and stay away from the door, you hear?”

Kori sniffled and nodded, seeming to calm down just enough to be able to think. Rusl smiled, but the moment of safety was gone in an instant when the roof broke, and a large, black hand reached out to grab them. Rusl pushed Kori away right as the hand landed on him, knocking the breath out of him.

Rusl grunted as the hand tightened around him, and he was lifted up through the hole. Kori watched in horror, moving to try to reach him, but Rusl waved him away, struggling in the thing’s grip.

“Hide Kori!” He yelled out, and he was pulled out of the building, his grandson’s voice calling out to him from within the building.

Rusl clawed at the fingers wrapped tightly around him, and he was suddenly inches away from the thing’s face. The stench from the monster’s hot breath nearly suffocated him, the endless, black mouth was open wide, and he flinched away, only to be trapped in its grip. Panic spiked within his chest as memories from the night of their first meeting flooded in—the memory of the tight throat swallowing him down, the slime and goo falling on every inch of his body, the tendrils in its stomach grabbing onto him…

“No, no no no!” He shouted, struggling against the beast’s hold while staring at its teeth in horror, but it didn’t put him in its mouth again. Instead it simply put him in one of its back hands as if he were a worthless toy, going back to digging around in the shop, and Rusl gasped as realization hit him. It was after Kori.

“KORI!” Rusl yelled in warning as the beast broke another hole through the roof. He squirmed and shifted, but his arms were pinned to his sides, the monster’s grip tight around him.

Just as the beast was about to tear another hole into the roof, an explosion hit the monster’s left side, causing it to shriek in pain. Rusl felt its grip around him loosen, and he was able to get one arm free before the grip tightened again. He looked to see where the explosion came from, and he saw Auru kneeling on the ground, his bazooka on one shoulder as he glared at the beast. Ashei and Shad were behind him, with Ashei’s longsword drawn and protectively in front of Shad, who stared at the beast wide-eyed.

“You better drop him now or else I’ll shoot again!” Auru yelled, aiming his weapon, but the beast didn’t seem threatened, and instead returned to trying to find Kori. Auru followed through on his threat and shot at the monster again, it shrieking in pain when it was hit, but it remained stubborn. Rusl watched Ashei run to the building, climbing to the top with her sword still drawn. She sprinted to the beast and sliced at its injured shoulder, making it flinch away. Annoyed, it went to smack Ashei off the roof, but she dodged and countered with another swipe of her sword, hitting its right arm once again. The beast snarled and directed its full attention to the woman, slamming its fist at her as she hopped back and forth. It soon began to swing its claws at her when squishing her didn’t work, but Ashei was quick despite the armor she had on, and she ducked to avoid the beast’s claws. The shadow beast grew agitated, and it slammed its fist hard against the roof next to Ashei, which didn’t hurt her, but it caused her to lose her footing, and she wasn’t able to dodge the monster slapping her off of the roof. Ashei yelled out as she flew, landing on the cobblestone ground with a sickening crack.

“Ashei!” Shad shouted as she fell off, sprinting to her side as she struggled to stand up. Her face was pale, she cradled her side, and she looked like she was struggling to breathe, which made Rusl worried. The beast turned to look at Ashei and Shad, and Auru let another shot from his weapon loose, which hit it right in the chest. It shrieked in pain, but remained standing on the roof.

“How many hits is it gonna take?” Auru exasperated, loading his weapon again.

“Auru, I’m afraid you’re going to hit Rusl!” Shad yelled, but he didn’t listen as he shot the beast again. Everytime, Auru hit the beast head-on, which Rusl felt as the shock rippled through his body, the heat making him sweat. But the blasts never hurt him directly, with the monster feeling most of the pain, and its grip loosened enough for Rusl to get his other arm free. But once again, its fingers tightened around him just as he was about to slip away.

“Oh come on,” Rusl groaned in frustration, feeling his sides bruise from the grip. The beast recovered from the blast again, and faced Auru with fury radiating off of it. But before it could pounce, Rusl heard a sword being drawn and spotted Link right as he landed on the beast, the blade of his sword facing down and piercing the leathery back.

The shadow beast let out a shriek that rang out through the entire town, stinging Rusl’s ears from the shrill, and he gasped as the grip finally loosened, causing him to fall. He landed on the roof with a painful thud, his knees and ankles stinging from the impact, but there was no time to sit there as the beast wailed in pain.

“Link!” Rusl shouted, scrambling to his aching feet. His son glanced over at him, his grip around his sword tight. “Kori’s below us! It’s after him!”

Link’s eyes widened in realization, his glare turning into a horrified expression, but before he could do anything, the beast stood up straight, making Link hang onto the sword still embedded into its back. Then it jumped back, threatening to crush Link. Link jumped to Rusl before he could get trapped between the roof and the monster, and the roof beneath them collapsed from the impact. Pain exploded in Rusl’s body as Link landed on him, and everything went dark, the sounds of debris falling being the last thing he heard.

~~~

There was chaos in Castle Town. She knew from the screams and broken buildings, but she paid it no mind. As soon as Rusl’s daughter barged into the bar where she and the others still sat, they were all up and ready to go fight the beast, knowing that the time for planning was over. Sheik had planned to tell Edmund about the beast, as a safety measure in case she didn’t make it back, but she supposed there was no time for that now. She just had to trust that Edmund would notice the giant shadow beast attacking the town.

Instead of joining the others in the fight, however, Sheik was standing in her room at the bar, praying to the light spirits the same way she did ten years ago. She knew that the light arrows she acquired from them would aid them in the fight, but it was a matter of getting them to help again. Truthfully, she didn’t know if they would. The tyranny of Ganondorf was over; the threat of the world was no longer there, but she hoped that they would understand the threat now.

“Oh light spirits,” she started, the only sound of her voice in her room feeling awkward, but she continued, “I ask for your help once again, to help defeat an evil that threatens Hyrule.”

Nothing happened, so she continued, ignoring the unease in her heart. “I need the light arrows to defeat this foe. It is a shadow beast, but it is a powerful one. Please, it’s taken and harmed my people. I need to defeat it.”

It remained silent, the familiar feeling of the divine spirits didn’t appear, and panic began to settle in. Why weren’t they responding? They immediately replied to her during the invasion, granting her the light arrows that stunned Ganondorf long enough for Link to fight him. But now it felt like they were ignoring her. Why?

“Please,” she begged, kneeling on the ground and bowing her head. “Please, help me. I must protect Hyrule, I must fulfill my duty as a queen and—and as a mother. Please.”

Frustration began to build up in her as nothing happened. Everything felt easier back then for her despite nearly losing her kingdom. She felt like she could focus, like she could clear her head to figure out what to do. But now everything felt hard, impossible. Like she was trapped in quicksand that she couldn’t escape. Every decision led to a terrible consequence, where she would bear the weight of the blame due to her position. Not looking into the disappearances earlier, not spending time with her family, not building good relationships with people, stretching herself thin where she felt like she could barely do anything—

Goddesses, she couldn’t fail. There were too many people depending on her—an entire kingdom depended on her.

“Please, I need your help,” she tried one more, resting her head on the ground, her voice shaking, “I cannot do this without you.”

“Zelda.”

Her head shot up, finding herself in a dark world that was lit up by the water and the light spirits watching her. Relief swelled in her, and she bowed her head.

“Thank you, light spirits,” she started, “I need you help—”

“No you do not,” the spirit of Lanayru interrupted her, the snake-like eyes watching her. Zelda paused, taken aback from the sudden bluntness.

“W-What do you mean?”

“You do not need our help.”

“I–Yes, I do. I need the light arrows to defeat a beast of darkness—”

“And you were wise in searching for the light arrows…”

“But… you’re not going to give them to me?”

Eldin moved closer to her. “You already have them…”

Zelda paused, looking down at her empty hands. “I…I already have them?”

“You’ve always had them,” Faron jumped in, tilting their head. “They never left you.”

“I—How do I get them then? I’ve never used them since Ganondorf.”

“That is something you will have to figure out yourself…” Faron explained.

“You do not put enough faith in yourself…” Eldin added.

“And so you struggle to find that divine power…” Lanayru finished.

Zelda frowned, rubbing her right hand where the triforce of wisdom glowed. “How do I find it then? How… how do I simply put faith in myself?”

“It is no easy task…you’ve dealt with many obstacles in your life now…we do not blame you for struggling so…”

“But you must learn to be kind to yourself…you are only a Hylian…”

“A Hylian that is responsible for my kingdom,” Zelda grumbled. “I must be hard on myself otherwise I’ll never make the right decision!”

Lanayru shook their head. “You’ll simply overthink everything…you put too much pressure on yourself…”

Zelda paused, looking down at the bright water, the memory of her and Edmund’s conversation playing through her mind.

“… looking at you now, I’ve grown more worried than upset,” Edmund said to her. “You’ve overworked yourself so much to the point that you collapsed. That’s not a good thing. I suppose I… I just want to know why you’re so intent on doing everything yourself, when I’m here to… help you.”

She had put so much pressure on herself that she literally passed out from exhaustion, and her mind has felt foggy ever since. Perhaps it’s felt foggy long before the disappearances have gotten worse, since the twilight invasion…

Goddesses, everything has felt impossible, cloudy, and too heavy for her to bear. But she didn’t know how to receive help—she didn’t know how to fix it. Yet it clearly was keeping her from the light arrows, so much so that the light spirits recognized it.

“I…see…” she simply said. “I’ve always had the light arrows?”

“Yes…you’ve always had them… you just need to learn how to use them…”

Zelda sighed, frowning as she stared at her hands. A familiar, warm tingling sensation started at where her triforce piece lingered, and she nodded. She could do this, she had to.

“Can I ask you one more thing then?” She asked, looking up at the light spirits. They each nodded, and Zelda got to her feet, still keeping her head bowed. “What are we up against?”

Ordona stepped forward, with the others making way for her. “This is a shadow beast… one of the first created by the usurper Zant…it has lingered in the Twilight Realm all these years, getting stronger…”

“If it’s from the Twilight Realm, how did it get here?” Zelda asked, thinking of Midna somehow coming back for Kori.

“It has stolen force from the Twili there… growing strong enough to be able to move between worlds while staying hidden…”

“Force? Like… life force?”

The spirits each looked at each other, and the world around them began to fade.

“Your kingdom needs you, Queen of Hyrule…go, and save them…”

Zelda blinked and she was suddenly back in the room. She still felt clouded and weak, but she knew that her friends needed her, as did her kingdom. Ignoring the questions that weren’t answered, she looked at the triforce of wisdom on her hand and closed her eyes, reaching deep within her to access the magic she had. The warm feeling in her hand began again, and it spread throughout her chest. For a moment, she felt the power in her flow through her veins, a warmth in her fingers.

Then it went away.

Zelda opened her eyes to see nothing in front of her, only the empty room above the inn. Her brows furrowed as she stared at her hands, the fingers trembling slightly.

“I don’t understand,” she whimpered, clenching her fists, “I need them! How do I… why couldn’t you just tell me?”

The room remained silent as Sheik sat there, her prayers unanswered and her hands empty. She looked around her, kneeled down, and once again tried to reach deep within herself to find the arrows, but there was nothing. Not even the faint glow of the triforce of wisdom appeared.

“Come on! I can’t leave without them! I said I’d get them, why can’t I get them?” Sheik punched the floor in frustration, her divine magic suddenly feeling like it was being sucked out of her. She simply asked back then, and the light spirits answered. Of course it had to be different now, of course it had to be harder for her.

A faint explosion was heard outside, along with screaming, and Sheik finally sat up, looking around the room. She could sulk in the room forever, but she still had a duty to the resistance; she needed to help them, empty-handed.

Admitting defeat, Sheik stood up and ran to the window, jumping out and climbing onto the roof. Immediately she spotted a cloud of smoke ahead of her, with the sounds of roaring and yelling, and she took off towards it. A shop in front of the fountain was completely destroyed, with Link trying to distract the shadow beast while Rusl laid unconscious in the rubble, and Kori worriedly looked over him. Sheik grimaced at the sight, dread resting in her stomach as she watched Rusl, pale and unmoving.

“G-Grandpa–” the little boy whimpered, shaking him gently, but he didn’t wake up.

“Kori, get out of here!” Link yelled, but Kori remained frozen at his grandfather’s side. They were helpless against the thing, and Sheik couldn’t help but feel her blood freeze at the sight of the creature. It truly looked far more powerful than the normal shadow beasts, and she could feel the power—the force—radiating off of it. Memories of the twilight invasion came flooding in, with her watching shadow beasts killing her soldiers right before her very eyes, her own parents twisting and morphing into the black creatures by Zant’s hands, and her watching helplessly as it all happened. It’s all she was—helpless!

It turned from Link and spotted Kori, directing its attention to him, and Link tried to get it to turn back around.

“Don’t you dare—LOOK AT ME!” He yelled, desperate to keep his son safe, but it was in vain as the beast turned fully to Kori, who hugged Rusl in fear. The rest of the resistance seemed to be down, with Shad trying to help Ashei off the ground and Auru loading his bazooka frantically, and Sheik knew that Link wouldn’t be able to stop it from charging at Kori and Rusl. For some reason, a vision shot through her mind, one of the beast attacking her daughter in the same manner, and something inside her snapped. If she failed to kill this monster, then it was going to harm her daughter, and she couldn’t bear to let that happen.

She wasn’t going to let it happen.

As soon as the beast started to charge towards Kori, she jumped from the roof, landing in front of him and aiming her right hand at the beast. The triforce of wisdom glowed against her hand, shining brightly against her eyes as the diving light warmed her entire body. The magic was soon condensed and it formed into the bow of light and arrows, floating before her until she grabbed hold of it. Without having time to think, she pulled the bow back with a light arrow and shot it straight at the beast’s chest.

The shriek from the beast rang out through the town, the light attacking every inch of it like lightning as if flinched away from her. Sheik heard a confused grunt and turned to see Rusl wide awake, his brows furrowed and eyes wide as he stared at Sheik.

“Look out!” Sheik heard someone yell, and she turned just in time to see the beast charging, its mouth snarling open wide that almost paralyzed her in fear. She’s never seen their faces before. Breaking out of her fear, she shot an arrow at it when it was inches away from her, and it shriveled, growing agitated from the pain. Sheik was about to shoot it again, but it began slamming the ground in anger, nearly smashing her in the process if Rusl hadn’t pulled her out of the way, and she was huddled up next to him and Kori. The beast shrieked as the light attacked it, and Link got close to finish it off, but he was smacked away from the chaos.

“Papa!” Kori yelled, and ran to where his father landed.

“No! Kori!” Rusl yelled, holding tight to his grandson and following.

Before they could move past the monster however, black magic formed from where the beast rampaged, spreading right under Sheik and the others. A red swirl appeared in the center beneath the shadow beast, a sight that was all too familiar to Sheik, and she suddenly felt trapped in one place from the black magic surrounding her. A dizziness assaulted her as she tried to stand, and to her horror, she watched as the light arrow and bow disappeared from her hands. Her fingers began to vanish, turning into black squares that were being sucked into the center of the portal, and the last thing she saw before disappearing was Link reaching out to her.

[swordsmans]

prompted by a baffling conversation with one of my friends + overall trends with events like big bangs. apparently i am deeply underestimating the amount of, like, actual consumption crossover between fanartists and fanwriters. i've been operating under the assumption that the majority of fanartists don't read fanfic and that fanfic is a relatively niche thing mostly shared between fanwriters with a few outlier exceptions. like, that the "communities" or w/e are relatively separate??

this is possibly because i've been out of "fandom" for a few years (or bc im not on twitter/insta where the artists hang out), but i feel like most of my friends are other fanwriters and most of the people who actively engage with fanfic on tumblr/ao3 are also fanwriters (and vice-versa with fanartists gravitating to each other). however. my friend disagrees? neither of us are actually artists tho so i'm putting the question out to the crowd. (more thoughts) ->

side note: i didn't include an option for being BOTH a fanartist/fanwriter because 1) you're like rare and exotic birds to me 2) i'm trying to figure out who falls into which category based on what community you "identify" with the most. if you write the occasional fanfic but you mostly think about/create fanart, you're a fanartist; if you mostly write fanfic but every now and then will think about/make some art, you're a fanwriter. the group you're more likely to engage with. that kinda thing.

side note 2: you will see i have included an option for fanwriters who don't/rarely read fanfic. i know you exist because that is my category. i read fanfic but do so rarely these days. i'm selective because i dont have a lot of time on my hands. this is possibly another reason why i feel like engagement between fanwriters is so high, because if i'm going to engage with a fanfic i'm gonna put my whole ass into it since that's the kind of engagement that makes me happiest from a writer's perspective.

for reference, when i say "engagement" i'm talking about leaving kudos, comments on ao3, asks/comments on tumblr, tags on reblogs... that kinda thing.

with all of this in mind, this could literally just be because fanfic writers are more willing to engage with other writers bc of their own shared hobby and/or because fanfic writers know what kind of engagement theyd prefer on their own fics and act accordingly--and non-writer/artists are just more willing to engage in general because that's the primary way you participate in fan communities. on the flip side, fanartists might just straight up be a really quiet bunch... possibly because your thing (affectionate) is "visual" more than "verbal" (if that makes sense).

basically... this is exactly what i'd like to know LOL.

[sketchyface]

Friendly reminder that on AO3 ‘character A/character B’ is for ROMANTIC relationships and ‘character A & character B’ is for PLATONIC relationships, which includes QUEERPLATONIC ones cuz there’s no specific tag for it and is PLATONIC

Edit: Rule of thumb I use for tagging fics is if someone was looking through a specific tag, does your fic fulfil that? Like, if 1% of your fic is Angst and the rest of it is fluff you should not use the Angst tag, as someone looking through that tag probably doesn’t want to read your fic

Also, your tags NEED to be clear on what’s in the fic. So if anyone has blocked a certain tag, they won’t accidentally stumble into your fanfic

Using the character/character tag for queerplatonic relationships makes it hard for people who want to read your fanfics to know it’s queerplatonic and will immediately think it’s romantic and skip it

Like, I don’t want to read fanfics where Alastor is in romantic relationships. But because of how many people tag Alastor being in a queerplatonic relationship as character/character I can’t filter them out cuz I might miss some good misstagged fics. It makes finding fics I ACTUALLY want to read so fucking hard

Sincerely, an irritated AroAce person

[pinkcrittertomb]

I find it truly beautiful that with every Usopp pairing, doesn't matter who it is, they always go crazy about their love for Usopp

[untimelybones]

have some more (ft. 2 homeless (rich) men)

every morning i wake up and refresh toshiro's tag in hopes of new (lai)shuro content

[cluescorner]

I cannot imagine being a Damian stan right now. You've got both Zdarsky's bullshit (where he clearly doesn't give a shit about your boy) and The Boy Wonder (where Juni Ba clearly gives so many shits about your boy) coming out on the same day. The whiplash must be insane. I hope y'all get some nice warm soup for your efforts jfc

[i-may-be-an-emu]

Some of my favourite out of context sfth ao3 tags because these are so funny (also all of these are from different fics)

Disclaimer that these aren’t mine :)

[gracefireheart]

Made a little fanfic about how Heavy and Medic's first interaction in my TF2 x Beastars AU went down.

If you don't know what Beastars is, I recommend watching at least a little of the anime to get a feel for it (tho' some of the things I mention in the fic will reference certain things that's shown in season 2, so be warned ig). It's on Netflix, but you can also just pirate it if you don't have a subscription. You didn't hear it from me tho' :)

Anyways, onto the fanfic below the keep reading line. It's over 3k words long, and 'cause of that (and how I don't have an a03 account), I'll just use pics instead for what I wrote in order to not go over the character limit :]