#fd: lot

[futuristicdoormats789]

i got home from hell (work) and thought of them

[koolaidashley]

More 04 posting me and my crew small but we crazy

[hardly-an-escape]

“a small treat for a massive baby” | via Ferdie’s insta story

[kheprriverse]

Look familiar? Bounty Hunter and magic user turned Deity, Ko'jin. Later dubbed as the "Fierce Deity."

Other outfits are a wip. I was gonna wait until they were done but couldn't resist sharing what I was working on for a week.

Masterpost | Lineup | Ko-fi - More info under the cut! This one’s gonna be a pretty long one and the last half below will have the text on the image (coz tumblr’s probably gonna eat the quality) plus some notes sprinkled in.

Plus a look at the Moon Serpent, a common form Ko'jin takes. I'd like to think the Moon Serpent is more commonly known by his followers than the man himself. There are others he takes, like the Silver Wolf, but the dragon is the one most associated with him.

He's relatively unknown after the war before Skyloft's ascent, his image having been completely removed from history. The few traces of him by OOT/MM would be oral tradition, specifically through family members as bedtime stories and legends to tell. Stories about a curious serpent and a powerful artifact.

After the events of MM, the Moon Serpent becomes active again and the festivals dedicated to it return.

Text on the image + extra notes:

Ko’jin, Bounty hunter chosen by Goddess Farore.

“Ko’jin” is not his real name. Once a mortal becomes a god, they abandon their original name. He was never given a proper one again aside from nicknames by worshippers and other deities. Ko’jin is a nickname given to him by his future wife when they first met.

He wears facepaint which is mixed with magic to bolster strength and speed. And later he would get tattoos that did the same [seen later].

Before becoming a god he was a bounty hunter [and popular at that, often being the favorite of a neighboring town]. He would take commission to hunt down monsters many others refused to go near.

Ko’jin has a strong affinity for magic [he uses it practically every day] and often imbues the edges of his sword with darkness magic. Though, the element given to his sword can still vary depending on what or who he’s fighting.

His undersuit and white tunic are much more protective than the brass chainmail, which instead is used more for artistic liberty than function.

“Early Days Moon Serpent”

Ko’jin’s god form was often a dragon for the ease of guiding lost spirits to the afterlife [he’s a judgement god with a very strong connection to the dead and guiding those spirits became his secondary function].

[During the first war with Demise] Soldiers often saw this form as the “Spirit of Courage” and their protector. They worshipped him and gave him gifts in hopes that he’d watch over him [and guide them to a better afterlife if they were to fall in battle (that secondary function). He basically became a huge symbol for soldiers specifically and I feel like this would feed the “War God” title he was given way later on despite not actually being a War God.]

In many ancient artifacts [ones that could be found at least], the Moon Serpent would be as either a two-headed serpent or two separate beings with their horns crossed. [There’s going to be a lot of “two’s” with him. Two swords, two lives, etc. in depictions of him the two heads/bodies of the serpent would be called “the Body” and “the Spirit”. Later on he’s split into two to be sealed away in a similar theme. “Two lives” refers to the before and after his sealing as he loses his memory of his “past life” and becomes a new person (hence a different appearance). I can see Hylia having foresaw a lot of this tbh.]

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 20: Found family, Blanket

*shuffles feet*

...in my defense, I almost entirely finished this yesterday, I just wasn’t about to go trying to edit and post it at like 11:30 at night (though this note probably would have been a lot more interesting if I had lol).

Anyway. Continuation to day 17! I apologize for the delay and hope the wait was worth it 😓

Day 17

Read on ao3

Warnings: same as day 17, injuries, torture mentions, a short nightmare, just bad times for Twilight

————————————————————

Getting out was a blur.

Link forced himself to stay awake as the leader of the heroes (had he even said his name? ...If he had he couldn’t remember) carried him, but focusing on much of anything was difficult. The ever-present pain weighed him down like a heavy load, old scars and new injuries adding endless layers of suffering, and even just being carried in someone’s arms was agony.

There was the leftover burn from the magic too— though the chains that had secured him were gone, the manacles were still on his wrists and the collar was still around his neck, and they ached, his whole body still shaking from the ordeal of removing the chains.

It was a struggle not to just pass out.

But the part of him that still screamed not to trust stay on alert be prepared for him to come back was stronger. It had been honed from countless jarring awakenings, pain ripping him back from already restless sleeps, and so he stayed awake, no matter how badly he wanted to rest.

The man holding him shifted his grip as he went up some stairs, and Link felt his breath hitch as some of his injuries were nudged. The man whispered an apology, and gently squeezed one of the few spots of skin that didn’t have an open wound on it.

Link flinched anyway.

The touch immediately retreated, and Link was torn between being relieved and crying at the loss of it.

Part of him still expected them to suddenly turn on him, the kind touches becoming bruising ones, gentle hands turned to claws and knives. But... he also craved it. He desperately wanted somebody to pat him on the shoulder and hug him and run their hand through his hair, but any of the touch he’d received so far had been like torture.

He truly couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt a touch that didn’t involve pain in some way. He could barely stomach it now, no matter how well-meaning, and he hated it.

Was there anything left the Shadow hadn’t taken from him?

Voices suddenly rang down the hall, and Link stiffened, straining his ears to try and figure out who— or what they were.

One of the other heroes who’d gotten him out (the one with the Master Sword, he thought. He really needed names) called out, and soon there were unfamiliar faces and words being exchanged and questions directed at him and all he could do was close his eyes, overwhelmed by the sudden amount of people surrounding him.

How many were there?

“... got Legend pretty bad, but we beat him off and he disappeared,” a polished voice spoke, and Link twitched an ear his direction. What was he talking about? A legend?

“I’m fine,” a sharper voice cut in, and Link thought it seemed younger then the other one. “You didn’t need to use that fairy, that was our last one!”

“Well what was I supposed to do?”

“Save it for the reason we came here in the first place! He’s way more injured than I was!”

“Legend,” a softer voice spoke up, sounding exasperated, “...you were pretty bad. And you know we don’t take chances with injuries caused by the Shadow.”

A sick feeling abruptly surged over Link at the name, along with an intense hatred and fear and horror and too many emotions for his mind to handle at the moment. Link’s breath stuttered against his will, and the man holding him frowned.

“You don’t think the Shadow is still here, do you?” The small hero with the colorful tunic asked, and the voices paused.

“Probably... not,” Link croaked, and they all looked at him.

He swallowed.

“Do you know where he is?” a man in a deep blue scarf asked, and Link exhaled, gathering his strength.

“No,” Link managed to get out, and the voices stayed quiet. “Probably not. But he usually... usually powered ‘self before... fights.”

“...powered himself?” a younger voice asked in an anxious tone, and Link closed his eyes again. Hadn’t they known? Or at least figured it out based on what they’d seen?

All he was was a battery.

“Thank you Link, I’m sorry we brought it up,” the leader apologized, and Link made a noncommittal noise. “We’re almost out, hold on.”

They began moving again, and Link caught several people looking at him, though most of them stopped when they realized he’d noticed. A teenager with a stripe of pink in his hair didn’t though, and Link found himself staring, curious about the look of him. He gave him an awkward little nod, and Link tried to return it, though he wasn’t sure if he succeeded.

They were all so different, were these really heroes like him?

The Shadow had mentioned other heroes once or twice, but Link usually had no clue what he was talking about, or if he did, refused to say anything.

Besides, he was usually too busy screaming to listen anyhow.

Something bright shone out of the corner of his eye, and Link turned to look at it, his heart speeding up at the sight of a large entryway. The group hurriedly went through it, and Link was almost blinded from how bright it was after they walked through.

He blinked furiously, needing to see what was going on, and finally his eyes adjusted and he looked around in shock.

Sunlight.

Faint, barely-there, dim autumn sunlight that struggled to shine through the trees, but the sight of it nearly made Link sob.

He was outside.

He could see sunlight shining through yellow and orange leaves, eventually joined by the sound of birds and other creatures as they went along, air that wasn’t stale rushing past his face and making all his injuries hurt more but he didn’t care a bit.

He was out.

He was crying he realized, and he closed his eyes, overwhelmed by it all.

It wasn’t a trick. He’d never gotten this far the few times he’d been brought out, they were really who they said they were, they must be, and they’d gotten him out of the darkness.

Someone might’ve said something to him, but the overwhelming sensation of being outside had finally pushed Link to his limit, and he gave up on his fight to stay awake.

Darkness swept him away, it’s touch more gentle then he’d felt in a long time.

(...)

The heroes didn’t stop traveling until they were plenty far away from the oppressive ruins where they’d found Link, the trip passing in almost complete silence.

Link had passed out in Time’s arms not long after they’d finally exited, tears on his face, and Time couldn’t help but be somewhat relieved.

Watching Link remain in an almost stubborn state of alertness, ears twitching towards any sound, flinching when Time adjusted him, had been agonizing to watch. His body desperately needed rest, but he’d been stubbornly refusing it until they were out.

He’s certainly one of us, no doubt about that, Time thought with a sigh.

Sky grabbed a bedroll the moment they found a safe place to stop, and Time carefully lowered Link onto it, trying to avoid any injuries. He had several on his back, but they set him down as softly as possible, and Link didn’t wake.

“That’s really him?” Wind asked in a small voice as Warriors moved over to carefully look over all of Link’s injuries, cursing under his breath more than once.

“This is him,” Time replied quietly, trying to clean some of the blood and dirt out of Link’s hair. Now that they were out of the ruins, it was even more obvious how badly Link was in need of being cleaned up and cared for, and Time focused on not being overwhelmed by the task.

What all did he go through in there?

“What happened to him?” Legend said in a voice full of quiet horror, and Wild harshly kicked a rock into a tree.

“What didn’t?” he bit out in a fragile voice, and Sky put a hand on his arm, saying something that Time didn’t catch.

Warriors accidentally brushed a hand against Link’s collarbone then, and his eyes shot open, nearly throwing himself backwards away from the touch.

“Get away!” he snarled, voice hoarse, and Warriors immediately backed up.

“Whoa, easy,” Warriors quickly reassured, putting his hands up. “I’m only checking which of your injuries need to be cleaned so we can give you a potion. We don’t want anything healing inside them.”

Link glared at him in suspicion, but when Time moved into his line of sight, he relaxed a little.

“He’s helping, Link, I promise,” he reassured, and Link slowly relaxed, though he remained awake. Time glanced around at the other heroes as Warriors finished his examination, and saw that most of them were either looking at Link, or pointedly not looking at him as they worked on setting up camp.

It seemed none of them were quite certain how to deal with seeing one of their own in such a state.

Wild came over when he noticed Time watching them all, and he looked at Link, uncertainty on his face.

“Can I help at all?” he asked, voice stronger then it had been, and Time looked over at Warriors.

“These all need to be cleaned, and it’s not going to be easy for him,” the captain reported quietly, looking over his chest. “The faster we can get it done the better.”

“Link, we need to clean you up before we can heal you,” Time said as he knelt at his side, and Link gave him a bleary look. “It won’t be pleasant, but it needs to be done.”

Link breathed out and nodded, looking up at Time with shadows under his eyes.

“Go ahead,” he whispered.

Time gave him a faint smile, and Wild knelt beside him as they got to work.

It took a long time scrubbing all of the dirt out and disinfecting the injuries Link was coated in. They focused on cleaning the actual wounds, but Time knew Link would need the rest of himself cleaned up at some point, dirt and blood and all sorts of grime coated on his skin.

But that can wait.

Link was stiff throughout the entire process, trembling when they got to certain injuries, and trying not to cry out when they used the alcohol Warriors had provided to disinfect. The worst part was his face, which Time carefully washed up, but Link was nearly in tears by the time he finished cleaning the slice that cut right through the dark lines on his forehead.

But they finally finished, and Link sagged, his breathing shaking. Hyrule came forward then, and offered to heal him, and Link gave him a curious look.

“It’s a healing spell, it’ll be more thorough than a potion,” he explained. He faintly lit up his hands to demonstration, but Link immediately recoiled from the light.

“No, no n-no magic!” Link breathed, a flicker of terror in his eyes.

Hyrule immediately backed off, and Link’s cheeks flushed as he calmed down.

“I... I’m sorry, I-I...”

“No, I understand, that’s okay,” Hyrule said kindly, and Link swallowed and looked away, cheeks still red.

“Potions will be enough,” Time said peaceably, and Hyrule took out a few, handing them to Time. Though a fairy or healing spell would be preferable. “Take it slow, Link.”

Sky helped him carefully sit Link up, and Time helped him drink the entire red potion, slowly so as not to overwhelm his stomach. He eagerly sipped at it, and the most intense of his injuries began to knit closed, angry lines and deep gouges, and places that must be barely healed-over stab wounds—

Time exhaled, and lowered Link back to the ground as he finished, anger stirring in his chest.

The Shadow will pay for this.

“Try and get some more rest, Link. You’re safe with us,” Time said gently as he set the bottle aside, and rested a careful hand on Link’s.

He flinched, but after a long moment, slowly gripped it back. His hand shook as Time brushed his thumb over the dirtied triangles on the back, but he didn’t let go, even though Time knew holding on was hard.

You’re safe.

(...)

The next few days trickled by slowly, Link struggling to adjust to life not imprisoned in a hole being used as some sort of dark power source.

His injuries were healing, albeit slowly due to the sheer amount of them, but he was struggling more with the other scars his imprisonment had left him. He still couldn’t handle much touch, or large amounts of food, and he’d rarely sleep for long periods of time, waking up sweating and shaking from memories he hadn’t told the rest of them about yet.

Four made it his personal mission to remove the collar and bands from around his neck and wrists, since all they did was serve as a reminder for all them of the torture he’d endured.

Link wanted them off more than anyone, and he patiently sat through all of Four’s attempts at removal. The smithy finally succeeded with the help of some of Legend’s items and tools, Link nearly crying with relief at them gone, but the pale scars underneath the metal were almost worse.

They couldn’t be removed.

Time tried his best to help Link adjust, but it was hard when he could only give them the bare minimum of what he’d endured, and stubbornly tried to insist he was fine and they didn’t need to fuss over him. Even after he’d wake up gasping from a nightmare, Link would try to muffle his cries in order not to wake anyone, and couldn’t stand even a grounding hand on his shoulder.

It was at times like these Time wished Malon were here. She would know exactly how to comfort the traumatized boy they’d all found themselves with, better than Time ever could.

How do we help him, Malon? he thought one night as he studied Link’s slumbering face. His scars were harder to see in the dark, but Time knew they were there, slashed across his forehead, his chest... and his heart.

How did you ever handle me?

Time didn’t find any one answer, but as time slowly went by, Link did open up, at least a little. As they all explained more about themselves, he was willing to do so a bit too, explaining some of his journey, and telling the dark marks on his forehead actually weren’t a result of his imprisonment, though not exactly explaining what they were from.

His favorite thing to talk about was his home village though, and the longing in his voice was impossible to miss.

Time would have carried him there himself if it had been at all possible, but they were a long ways away from Ordon, and Link could barely walk across the clearing they were camped in without needing a rest. Taking him home would have to wait, as much as Time disliked it.

But in the meantime, the other heroes did their best to help Link as well, Wild figuring out what was easiest for him to eat, Warriors and Hyrule dutifully checking up on his injuries. Wind liked to tell him stories whenever he was struggling not to dwell on memories, sometimes getting Four to tell a few, and Legend even laid out his weapons and offered to let Link borrow one, until they could get him a sword of his own.

Sky often just let him hold the Master Sword, Link’s hands clutching the hilt as he sat in silence.

It seemed to comfort him, often when the rest of them couldn’t, and while Time couldn’t relate, he was glad it helped.

Time could also tell it was killing Sky not to be able to comfort Link with touch, at all, but Link was still working up to anything more then his hand being held. He would just have to do it at his own pace, as hard as it was to watch him struggle.

And things didn’t change in that regard, until all of a sudden they did.

(...)

Link closed his eyes as the tip of a blade pressed against his chin. He wouldn’t panic. This happened almost every day, and he wouldn’t panic. He wouldn’t give the Shadow the satisfaction of it.

“You’re not going to beg today?” he asked almost curiously, and Link licked his lips, tasting blood. “I might even listen, you never know.”

“I’ve never begged,” he said in a cold voice.

He wouldn’t stoop to that level, he’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t. It was one of the few ways he felt like he had a choice in the matter, and he knew it made the Shadow mad when when he remained silent.

He wouldn’t give his captor the satisfaction.

The Shadow leaned in so they were eye-to-eye, and Link stared at the crimson glow of his eyes, trying not to let his breath hitch.

“Well. Let’s see if we can change that, shall we?”

And then the blade flicked down, pain ripping across his chest. At at the same time the metal around his neck lit up like the lava on death mountain, burning into him, searing down the line where the sword had struck, and Link screamed as he felt magic bore into him and sap away every bit of his strength—

He woke up.

Link jerked upright, pain still blinding him, and he might’ve screamed but he wasn’t sure. Darkness was around him, lit only by the Shadow’s glowing eyes and he knew it had all been a dream, he hadn’t been rescued after all and he was never going to get out—

Link breathed heavily, clutching at his neck, certain he could still feel the collar, magic burning into him, feel his strength ripped away as injuries were torn into his chest—

“Link,” a soft voice said, and he heaved in another breath, hands still pressed to his neck. “Link, you’re out, you’re safe.”

He managed to raise his head, and saw Time kneeling carefully beside him, a hand outstretched in a calming gesture.

He swallowed, breathing in another shaky breath, and looked around, slowly recognizing the campsite they’d been at for the past several days. The light he’d seen was the campfire, not the Shadow’s eyes, and he felt relief start to soak through the terror.

He wasn’t there. He wasn’t back.

His breath hitched, and Time moved closer to him, offering him a hand to take if he wanted it.

Link stared at it, then began to shake, feeling suddenly overwhelmed at everything again.

He was out. He wasn’t a prisoner. He was out and safe and he’d been there for so long but he was out but he wasn’t home but he was home, brothers he never knew he had saving him and their kindness made his chest ache because he’d done nothing to deserve it and despite waking them up and slowing them down and pushing away their help they kept coming back and he’d done nothing—

A sob broke out of him as the sheer scale of everything suddenly crashed down onto him, and Time’s eye widened.

Then he leaned forward, and slowly, carefully, put an arm around him.

Link’s breath hitched with another sob, stiffening as the touch settled across his back, but as Time tried to move, he clutched at his arm, silently begging him not to let go. The touch was like fire on his back, but it soothed a part of him that he hadn’t even realized had been hurting so much.

Time hesitated as Link shuddered, then he lifted his other arm, pulling him into an actual hug, tight and warm.

That destroyed any composure Link had left, and he buried his face in Time’s shoulder, crying harder than he had in a long time. The touch all around him was awful and wonderful and agonizing and pure relief, and the sensation made him shake with how overwhelming it was.

“You’re okay,” Time whispered as Link fell to pieces in his arms. He ran a hand through his hair, and Link’s breath hitched on another sob. “You’re okay. I’ve got you, Link.”

Link had no clue as to the last time he’d received a hug, but this one, as messy and awful and painful as it was, was probably the best.

(...)

After that night, Link often found himself in a pile of heroes whenever he went to bed.

Wild would curl up at his side, Sky would end up with an arm flung out on top of him, Wind and Four by his head. Sometimes all of them would end up around him, and Link would nearly cry if he woke up and realized, falling back asleep more deeply then he had in months.

It was wonderful.

He was still struggling to get back on his own two feet, building his strength, still dealing with the fact that he’d always have the scars from his imprisonment, that he still sometimes woke up screaming in the middle of the night.

But he knew he’d have the others to support him, as hard as it was to let them. He still had moments where he’d push them away, when touch hurt instead of helped, when the thought of giving up crossed his mind, and didn’t seem like too bad of an option.

But he wouldn’t give up. Dark Link may have crushed him, but he wouldn’t be kept down, even though at times it seemed nearly impossible.

He would keep going.

And as Link leaned against Sky’s shoulder one night, Time’s arm over his shoulders, Wild and Four sitting leaned up against his feet while the others sat close by, it wasn’t nearly as hard to believe that he might be... okay.

Ordon would have to wait a bit longer, until he’d regained his strength, and could properly swing a sword, but until then...

A hand ran through his hair, and Link exhaled, the feeling of safety like a warm blanket around his shoulders.

...Link could wait.

[mejomonster]

Fei Du and Luo Wenzhou's relationship is so layered and complicated and lovely and just a fucking joy to see each layer of, to see shift. No wonder this book is my favorite.

[sunskate]

Aww love Austin Powers 2 for LaLa. curious and looking forward to what they'll do with Disturbed. and now that Piper and Paul have announced this, i’m surprised nobody else has done Beach Boys - it's potentially a fun and specific vibe to play and dance to

couldn’t imagine what they meant about tango and Whiter Shade of Pale - but here it is:

the 3 songs for LaLa’s RD:

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A traditional drawing of Ian McKinley. It's drawn with a dark brown brush pen, making the lineart sketchy. He's depicted sitting hunched over, his hands clasped together in front of him. His expression is faraway, and slightly menacing. Below him, there's the words "turn around" written boldly in the same pen. Around him, the lyrics to "Turn Around Look At Me" are written illegibly. Using a combination of watercolours and coloured pencils, the page is covered in different, lightly coloured shapes and scribbles. The colour scheme is pinks and purples.]

[pocketramblr]

Time and the Deity

I am thinking of a land saved by a little boy, that saved a little boy.

Termina watched the stranger soothe the pains of another child gone, and gave him another song, another bit of magic. He acted to save. Termina's heroes were dead or dying, so the land gave them to the boy to strengthen him, to reforge a new living hero.

And he blossomed in this, collected such happiness, dragged the land back from the brink again and again and again, until he could save everyone. Until he and the land and the power shaped a deity, and did save everyone that had poured life into them.

And that deity is Termina too - it's people, their gratitude. Gratitude so divine it could cleanse a demon- or change a human into more.

But then the boy left Termina. And the deity is not known in Hyrule, not needed in Hyrule. The hero child isn't either.

Come back home, the god in mask calls. Come back to Termina. We need you. Why did you leave?

The child says nothing and ignores the call. He is looking for someone else. Someone that left him without a word.

But eventually, years later, he needs the god again- he puts the mask back on and draws a divine sword.

The enemies fall at his feet. And then his feet step over the bodies, moving back towards Termina. He cannot stop, he cannot turn the direction of home, the ranch, his wife and life there now- the god of Termina can move once more, and he is going back.

So the hero, no longer a child, cuts the godhood off him.

He can't put the mask back on, ever. If he does he will be whisked away to another world, and he won't come back. It's a beautiful world, Termina, one that he loves and is grateful to- but he chose to leave. After everything he has lost, he will not lose that too.

[wildflower-otome]

Lewis Carroll: 'But, I guess that's what love is. You don't need to be together from beginning to end. Sometimes, to leave is also a kind of love.....' Lewis Carroll: 'Even when you're apart, it isn't as if your bond is broken. It's proof that it exists for sure.....' Alice Liddell: (.....Huh. That was unexpected, so he did get it after all?) And not only that, he was saying something surprisingly good. Alice Liddell: (A bond that exists even when apart, is it. I wonder if the kitty I had is still doing well. Does it remember me.....?) Lewis Carroll: 'Hey, Alice. Your real owner....., the White Rabbit, do you miss him?'

[bam-monsterhospital]

catching up on the critical role episodes where the party split and were joined by guests because I adore Aabria Iyengar and was curious about Deanna and FRIDA specifically, and i'm skimming the tvtropes sections on their characters, and I come across some..... hmmm, well you know how tvtropes is biased and edited by biased parties? And how fandom loves to bend over backwards in attempts to villainize Black women and Black women characters specifically? Yeah that.

'egocentrically religious' hmm? Then I read the rest of the section. "Okay, that's a very negatively-bent trope to list for what amounts to 'is practical about her religious relationship/critical of the gods'", I thought, having read everything before this and getting a vague picture of this character. For those who don't want to go looking "egocentrically religious" is exactly what it sounds like: a trope where a character is only concerned with how their deity responds to them.

Then there's the link at the end of it.

The final sentence, the part that says "Deanna becomes angry" links to the trope "entitled bastard" (which again is a trope meaning exactly what it sounds like).

and with the wording and choice of what to link, pretty sure whoever wrote this bit didn't intend for the trope to apply to her god. -__-

(i mean if it is intended to apply to pelor -with the deity as the entitled shit-, which would make sense and support what information is put down in this lil section, then good! excellent! but it does not come across that way and instead reads like another case of misogynoir.)

[teamjlry]

"I don't know, and I don't care."

Yeah, I mean, I'm always on the verge of tears and raising my voice when I'm talking about things about which I don't care too.

[razzberriezz]

Fashion Dreamer 50 Day (but not really) Challenge: Blue

As soon as Fantasy Fair was announced I knew I was going to save this prompt for it, since Morpho butterflies are my favourite!! Unfortunately, since the event has been temporarily suspended, I wasn't able to claim all the designs in time, so I could only complete the type A set...! Relying on the Pop-Up Area though, I think my guy still resembles a butterfly - the Pipevine Swallowtail!

Challenge Prompts

(Images of the butterflies I'm referring to are under the cut; please take note if you have a phobia of insects or the like!)

[kheprriverse]

Upcoming Ballad changes 👀?

[skyward-floored]

I was wondering… Do you know of any fics where Wind has to put on the fierce deity mask to defend Time and himself?? I just had a thought of this happening. The rest of the boys are separated from wind and time and say Time is knocked out. Wind has no choice but to use the mask. The angst would be superior.

The boys would finally locate Wind and Time only to find the fierce deity has replaced wind.

Huh, you know I don’t think I’ve ever actually read a fic like that. It’s a great idea though! I’m sure somebody has done it (anybody know of any fics like this?)

Oh... well hey I just remembered I actually did write a whumptober once that involves Wind and Time and the FD (here), but Wind doesn’t put on the mask. The original idea for it was Wind putting on the mask though, and I still have the draft of it floating around I think... *rifling noises* Ah-hah, here you go! I’ll just put it here in case you wanna read it.

I also couldn’t resist neatening it up a little because it’s old and I’m a way better writer now

————————————————————

...and items that can drive a man mad...

Wind stares down at the mask clutched tightly in his shaking hands, and looks up again at the scene around him.

There’s black blood and dead monsters everywhere, the result of Wind and Time’s teamwork. They’d managed to clear away what they thought was the last of them without a problem, and Wind had been proud they’d beaten them so soundly. Time had turned around to say something to him, a warm smile on his face, when a huge ball and chain crashed into his side, sending him flying and Wind shouting in panic.

Two of what Legend had once called ball and chain troopers had stalked out of the woods then, spinning those horrible weapons high.

Wind had narrowly managed to beat them, receiving a few injuries himself, but just as he was celebrating his victory and about to check on Time, he caught sight of a veritable horde of monsters charging toward him mounted on horses.

Wind’s heart had dropped straight to his shoes, and he panicked for a moment, unsure of what to do. Time hadn’t gotten up yet and he himself didn’t escape unscathed from the fight, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle another battle by himself, especially while protecting Time.

But then something caught his eye.

Time’s bag had been spilled onto the ground when he’d been hit, items littered all over the place that Wind had had to avoid while he fought the ball and chain troopers, but one item in particular was suddenly drawing his attention.

A mask, one that looks suspiciously like Time’s face stares up at him, blank wooden eyes feeling like they were drawing him in. Normally he wouldn’t dream of messing with Time’s stuff, but this was a bit of a special circumstance.

“Wind... Wind don’t...” a voice coughs behind him, and the sailor glances over at Time, a hand pressed to his side, blood running down a slice on his cheek. The old man’s face is pale, and he looks scared, in a way that’s so unlike him that Wind pauses.

“There’s got... there’s a better way...”

“No,” says Wind, a wave of determination going through him. “There isn’t another way. We’re alone and outmatched, and you can barely stand.”

He squares himself up and stares at the advancing horde, eyes firm.

“Sailor please... you don’t know... wh-what it does—”

“I do know actually,” Wind says with a hint of annoyance, “you’ve told me what it does: It grants the user power in battle, and we need that right now.” He flips the mask over, studying its lines. “I know it’s dangerous, but... but it’s a risk we have to take.”

If I don’t, we’re both dead.

Time says something else, but Wind ignores him, and quickly presses the mask to his face.

Pain explodes across his body, and Wind screams, dropping to his knees as something like a hurricane overtakes him. Time might yell, but his voice is lost in the storm crashing over Wind, changing his body, wrapping around him, warping him into something wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong it’s changing him it is him he’s—

Wind falls away and the Fierce Deity stands, pale eyes narrowed at the approaching horde.

They don’t stand a chance.

[fashionbugster]

kamen rider x fashion dreamer — ooo

your value is something you decide yourself.