#The idea I have is a little... fruitless at the moment so we'll see if it develops

[lavenrain]

in the same universe as this Pairing: Hongo/Milo Anime: O Maiden in Your Savage Season

Every Hitoto-san book has three things in common:

They have raunchy, crappily written sex scenes that have been said over and over to belong to that of a middle aged man.

They’re full of plotholes and depict the strangest views on normal every occurrence. Re: Berserker, the novel with a monster undescribed, yet so humanly written that, of course this is a metaphor. Right? Not according to a recent retweet from Hitoto herself.

They have the most passionately hateful or loving fan base online.

(Hongo never mentions it much, but her Twitter seems to be running itself these days.)

“Nothing interesting tonight, huh.”

Hongo contemplates while stretched out on the love seat in her room. It was given as a gesture of apology after a particular spat with her sister ended in hot oil spilling over a forty page handwritten manuscript. It wasn’t as though Hongo demanded one either, of course everything had been typed on her computer as well, but who is she to deny new furniture?

The brightness on her phone seers through her eyes, scrolling from the moment she’d stepped foot in the family home, until the doorbell rang for pizza. Scrolling and scrolling.

Nothing interesting tonight. 

The phone went black, and just now Hongo notices how hot the palm of her hand is. She’d give a million years off her life to rid her addiction to scrolling - even if the result will tank her popularity. 

The computer across the room was on, yet with no flickers or obnoxious notification sounds. The last she’d used it was her second year, her third opting for a laptop she’d won in an annual writing event. Writer Round Robin, who could write the best poem within the shortest amount of time? The competition nearly lacked her involvement as poetry didn’t suit her, although a certain group of meddlers prodded the location of a few childhood attempts and the rest was history.

Or maybe not.

[leggerefiore]

Random though but Sawsbuck Ingo and Emmet getting their antlers stuck during and antler fight

cw: sawsbuck submas,

pairing: Ingo/Reader,

▲▽▲▽▲▽▲▽▲▽▲

Ingo grunted as he tried to pull himself back from Emmet. This caused the younger twin to cry out and make him freeze in the middle of his step. A few more tentative tugs of his head proved fruitless, as did Emmet's own. The Sawsbuck hybrids had heard of situations like this before but really never expected to find themselves in it. It was a simple tussle. Emmet had mostly started it because he was bored.

Now they were stuck.

It really hurt to have their necks stuck in that position, but pulling away caused more pain for both of them. Emmet's smile had fallen as it seemed to shift into a more contemplative state. Ingo felt annoyed. He was the older brother. He should have told him no and stopped this from ever being a possibility. Yet, somewhere, he enjoyed messing around much like they used to during their Deerling days. A sigh left him. Reaching a hand proved not to work either.

“Are we going to die?” Emmet spoke unexpectedly, eyes looking at the ground. Now Ingo felt worse.

“No,” he reassured him, “We'll get out of this. It might… just take some time. Let's stay calm for now.” The words appeared to have soothed the younger twin, as Ingo thought about other ways to get out. Breaking an antler would not be preferred, but between that or dying. Ingo wanted to groan. He would be the one losing an antler, he knew. The idea of causing Emmet that much distress upset him greatly.

Just as he was about to propose that suggestion when a familiar voice called out their names. They both tried to turn their head in the direction it came from in sync, but the tugging led to more pain, so they both froze and nearly fell. You broke out of the tree line moments later, a bit stunned to see the deer men in their predicament.

Ingo felt embarrassment pang in his heart at your expression, while Emmet suddenly turned frustrated, upset by being seen in such a vulnerable state. A small laugh came from you as you stepped closer to them. They were certainly interlocked. A joke to call them conjoined crossed your mind, but you held back. Instead, you asked them what happened and listened to Ingo's bereft explanation. An urge to scold them also had to be repressed.

Reaching a careful hand into the mess of wooden antler, you carefully worked to undo the mess the two had themselves into. Many complaints were vocalised or whined as you tried to work in a manner that hurt them as little as possible. Eventually, they pulled back from one another, not having lost a bit of their extensive growth. Emmet almost instantly trotted off, clearly too embarrassed to face you, while Ingo laid down on the grass to regain himself.

Your kindness had truly saved them a lot more pain. He gazed at you gratefully. “Thank you, dearest,” Ingo spoke genuinely and lightly clapped his hands, “I was about to suggest that I break one of the antlers to free us, but you came just before I could.” Your expression shifted into a pout. A quick stride over to him had you cupping and squishing his cheeks.

“You and your self-sacrificing nature,” you shook your head, “Stop that. Emmet would have felt bad, and you know it.” Ingo's heart raced. Why his younger brother surely would have felt bad, it would have been for the greater good for both of them. “And besides, you two like to match. He'd probably end up breaking off some of his antlers to mimic you.” Ingo gasped. He surely would not! There was no need.

Though, upon considering it… Ingo sighed. He would. Emmet absolutely would.

“Yes, yes… I'm sorry,” he nodded, “Next time, I intend to prevent the situation of his becoming locked up from happening in the first place. No more battling.”

You truly wondered how long that would last.

~

“Are you feeling okay now, Emmy?” you asked the Sawsbuck hybrid after he returned to your cabin by the evening. He still seemed a bit upset, but mostly in a better mood. You offered him a doughnut and giggled when he eagerly snatched it away and ate it. His mood perked even more up as he suddenly whisked you into a hug.

“I'm verrrry sorry you had to see us like that!” he whined, “We made you upset. You looked so hurt.” You sighed and returned the affection to the poor guy. Was that really it? It appeared to be embarrassment, but…

“It's alright,” you reassured him, “I'm just glad you two were fine in the end.” Emmet nodded quietly yet refused to let you go. You decided to let him have this for a while.

Until Ingo popped out of cabin, wanting to cuddle up to you for the night.

[itcantbe]

Whumptober No. 25: Escape

The final part of the False Champion AU. I had half an idea for a little follow up, we'll see. Or maybe I'll save it for next year, who knows?

No. 25: Escape

False Champion AU (4 of 4) BOTW pre-calamity 722 words On AO3

Zelda pushed her face into Link’s shoulder, unable to watch as the beast, trailing smoke and malice, overtook the castle. The flash of guardian lasers and the orange glow of fire was easy to see from where they stood on the wall of the Great Plateau, Hyrule’s destruction spread out before them.

“We should go. We don’t know if any of that—” Link gestures to the spreading ruin before him “—will make it up here.”

He doesn’t seem interested. He doesn’t seem to care. And she … she feels numb. She cares, cares about the loss of her father, her people, her kingdom.

Doesn’t she?

They had returned from the Spring of Wisdom the day before, another failure to add to her tally book. This was the one she had been counting on, the one she had waited 17 years for, the one she was sure would finally unlock her powers. But yet again, hours of fruitless prayer had done nothing to sway the goddess and Zelda remained as she was, powerless and pathetic. The Champion, as cold and remote as he’d been for weeks, wouldn’t even look at her.

They made the sad trudge back to the castle, the Champion silent and sullen at her side, yet regal in the blue tunic she had made him, the false Master Sword gleaming at his back. She knew he believed he had the real thing, that he had bought into the lie just as the rest of Hyrule had. And why wouldn’t he be the ideal wielder of the legendary blade? One look at him proved he was Champion material. The favor of the king and the court only furthered it.

She hated him. Hated how he had made her love him at first, with sweet words and tender gestures, only for him to turn his back on her with the rest of the kingdom when she continued to not unlock her powers.

She hated herself, for ever thinking he cared for her.

On their return ride to the castle from the spring, she could feel Link behind her. They had talked about leaving, before.

“We could go now,” he whispered, Zelda in his lap. “I’ve got everything ready.”

“We can’t!” she whispered in return, his lips beginning to travel down her neck.

“Why not? I doubt we’ll be missed.”

It was hard for Zelda to think, to explain, when he was kissing her like this, when his hands were travelling all over her as if he couldn’t get enough of her. It was so unlike her trysts with the Champion.

“But the Calamity … we need to be here …”

Link took her face in his hands, looking her in the eye as he spoke.

“Do we? You still don’t have your powers. Are you just going to hope you get them in time? I won’t watch you die for people who have never cared about you.”

“But the sword — !”

Link made a dismissive noise.

“They didn’t want it when I gave it to them, and they’re not getting it now. They made their bed, they can lie in it. Maybe when the calamity comes, they’ll see the error of their ways. I no longer care.”

He kissed her again, tenderly, lingering a moment before pulling back and looking into her eyes again.

“I only care about you.”

When they returned from the spring, the castle began to shake, black smoke pouring out from below as red lightning crackled in the sky from a swirling mass of black clouds laced with malice. She could only stand there and look on in disbelief, that the event she’d spent her entire life preparing for had arrived on the day of her greatest failure. Link ran up to her and grabbed her hand, and she was shocked to see it was the Master Sword, that he had pulled it out of hiding and disguised it enough to carry it with him.

Their troop had looked on in confusion, a rank-and-file soldier holding an exact copy of the sword their Champion carried on his back, to the Champion himself, white with fear, as he spurred his horse and fled away from the castle and back the way they had come.

Then they looked to her, the kingdom’s last hope.

But she was already gone.