#fics for Oma

[kikker-oma]

I made another thing based off of your whumptober art :)

This one in particular:

The old man sat on a log near the crackling campfire, awake for his watch and he had set his eye on someone in particular who had seemed...off. The vet was tossing and turning in his bedroll, eyes squeezed shut when he could see his face, but it wasn't relaxed like when he was asleep. He eventually crept down and whispered, "Vet?"

The veteran's eyes opened slightly, and the old man just noticed the bags under his eyes. "Yeah?" He replied in a whisper.

"I noticed you hadn't gone to sleep yet. It's third watch."

Legend groaned. "I haven't been able to fall asleep for a while, but I tried everything I could. Nothing to do about it."

That was worrying.

"Are you sure? I know a remedy, that you most likely haven't tried."

"Go for it, old man, I'll do anything at this point."

He pulled out the ocarina, and played the Song of Healing, closing his eyes to let the soothing melody reach the vet's waiting ears. He nearly fell asleep himself but finished the tune and opened his eyes. The veteran had his eyes closed and though he wasn't quite asleep yet, Time smiled, hoping that this would do the trick and did a quick patrol.

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

The old man noticed things. From the vet's stumbling and sloppiness during battle, to mess ups with conversations and answers. His seemingly random mood swings which seemed quite unusual for him. He had confessed that the song didn't do anything and for literal magic to not work, well, Time was more than confused. He had kept it to himself because the veteran pleaded with him to not worry the others.

One night he had second watch, and the vet had somehow ended up with first. He slept peacefully until he woke up and realized it was his turn for watch, and he hadn't been woken up by someone else. (His internal clock told him it was approximately halfway into second watch.) So he got up immediately, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and what he saw shook him.

The vet was trembling on his knees, and when the old man rushed to talk he noticed the expression on his face. There were tears pouring down his face, and his eyes were barely open, staring off into space. The old man noticed that the veteran's hands were shaking even more, arms wrapped around air. "Veteran?" Time spoke loudly. "Link?"

When he got no response, he got down on his knees in front of Legend and took his arms, repeating his name. "Uncle?" Legend mumbled wearily. "What're you doin'?"

"I need you to stay here, I'm going to go find help."

"Nnnooo, don't leave me," Legend gasped deliriously. "If you go to th' castle..."

"I'm not going to the castle," Time tried to reassure. "I just need you to stay with me, okay?"

"M'kay."

He whistled sharply, getting everyone up because this situation was getting dire and he needed help. "What's going on?" The captain questioned, voice a bit frantic.

"Our veteran. He needs help."

They were at his side instantly. "'ncle who're these people," the vet slurred, still staring off into nothing.

"Is he sick?" Sky frowned.

"I don't think he's been sleeping, at all recently," Time worried. "He said he tried everything but still couldn't sleep."

"I'm not trained for this stuff, I'm afraid," Warriors shook his head. "Traveller?"

"All I know how to do is magic," The traveller replied and shrugged looking downcast at the fact.

"Oh!" Wind snapped his fingers. "Someone on Outset had a similar problem. It was because they were really stressed and they fell asleep once they were more relaxed."

"Stress? That seems plausible," Warriors nodded.

"Link," Time uttered, catching the veteran's slow attention. "Tell me, are you stressed about anything? Worried?"

"I mean, 's a quest, Uncle, of course I'm going to be stressed sometimes."

"I know, but right now, what's troubling you specifically?"

"You're always so kind," Legend muttered after a long moment.

"This isn't going anywhere," Four whispered.

"Uncle, don't die."

Time swallowed concern for that statement, said with desperation and he looked helplessly at the rest of them. What could they really do? Why couldn't he figure this out? The chain looked at them as a leader, so why was he feeling so helpless right now? Why couldn't he help one of his boys?

Then there was one sentence that nearly drove the old man to his knees.

"If you die, Grandma Malon is gonna kill me...she already lost th' Hero 'f Time, and you're just as important. Don' leave me to save the world like he did."

THAT LAST LINE OMGGGGGGGG

LOOOOOORE!!

SECRETS SPILLED!!

THE REALIZATIONS TO FOLLOW!! AAAAAAGGHHHGGSHXJSBAHAIA

The Ocarina was such a good try, poor boys just don't know how they can deal with this sweet little sleep deprived man🥺

Gosh sleep deprivation is no joke, it's brutal for real

Thank you so much for writing this Uni! Your writing is a treasure as always❤️❤️❤️

[kikker-oma]

AAALLIIIIICE❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ I got the AO3 email and then didn't realize that I missed you tagging me in this?!?!

Oh his spiral is so so good, it starts so small but flows SO well into his insecurities, and it makes SENSE!

He tries to be rational and make sense of what he's feeling but it builds and builds and then it just topples him and mmmmMMMMM✨✨

Iove that legend came to comfort him!! He's so real, like, he grounds Sky in a way he needs right now! Straightforward and not telling him things "just to make him feel better". They are truths and he's so honest❤️❤️

THANK YOU FOR THIS GIFT🥰🥰🥰

The art-based angst I promised, based on @kikker-oma's amazing art!

Sky stood slightly apart as the others read their letters, talking about what they were missing at home, comparing notes about loved ones. He tried not to feel the empty space that had been left in his hand after he'd handed over the last one. Nothing for him.

He knew it didn't mean anything, but it did.

He took a couple of steps away, running his fingertips over the soft cloth of his sailcloth, smelling the perfume woven into the fabric and remembering Zelda handing it to him. He could still see her smile, could still hear her voice and feel her hand in his, but at moments like this melancholy seeped out of his bones. He missed her desperately, more with every day that went by.

But at moments like this, he also wondered if Zelda loved him or if the Goddess Hylia loved her Chosen Hero.

He took a breath, once again focusing on the perfume and the softness of the cloth. She did love him as he loved her. She loved him as he loved her. They, themselves as they had always believed themselves to be, not the Goddess and her Chosen.

He took another deep breath, but as he turned to return to the others he saw Time also standing aside, reading a letter he guessed was from Malon.

Once again, he was aware of his own empty hand.

He ducked around a corner, intending to just take a moment to pull himself together. Nobody seemed to notice.

Something dark deep inside him wondered if they would notice if he never went back. If anyone would. If that was why, now that he was out of sight, none of those he loved on Skyloft had written to him.

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. There was a good reason for him to have had no letters from Zelda or even Groose. They had a lot to do with organizing the move to the Surface, after all, and for all he knew the postman hadn't even been to his era recently. There was no need to worry.

No need to think that now that he was out of sight he was also out of mind.

That now the Goddess had no need for her Chosen.

He scrubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. He had to stop thinking like that and get back to where the others were probably waiting.

He was sure they were waiting. Someone would be along to look for him soon. He shouldn't worry them.

He knew this was an overreaction to simply not receiving a letter. They didn't know how the postman travelled; perhaps he couldn't even go to Sky's era for some reason; he didn't know.

But he thought of the light in Wind's eyes as he read a letter from his sister and Four laughing ruefully over something his grandfather had said and he felt absolutely alone, in his corner out of the way where he had gone without anyone apparently noticing he'd left.

Perversely, he almost wanted to stay here and see if anyone did come to look for him. Just to silence the part of him that thought they wouldn't. That expected them to write him off as slow and lazy and leave him behind, no longer a burden on them.

After all, that had been Hyrule and Legend's first guess for why he hadn't caught up with the postman this morning: that his heart and lungs had gotten the best of him yet again and he'd been too slow. That he'd failed in his own self-appointed mission because he couldn't run.

He could. Not for as long as some and not even as fast as he could before, but he could.

But what did that matter when he could be the butt of a joke?

He knew they hadn't meant to be cruel, but it had been a tiny jab into something that always hurt somewhere deep inside him and he didn't think that had ever occurred to them. That maybe it would hurt him to have his poor stamina mocked like that. He'd brushed it off as he always did and he knew he couldn't expect anyone to notice something he made an effort to hide, but it was there.

Slowly, it bore down on him harder and harder.

No letters from home.

The doubt that Zelda truly loved him.

The fear that he would be forgotten as soon as he was out of sight.

Failure.

Too slow.

Too weak.

Too cowardly.

Mocking laughter.

Silence and solitude and…

The sob came out before he could stop it and he clapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself quiet. There was no reason to give even more of an impression that he was weak, that he couldn't even cope with just not receiving a letter.

Another sob, ripping out of him. He clenched his eyes shut and wrapped an arm around his waist, trying to steady himself. He couldn't break down like this. He couldn't break down just because he was alone and lonely and homesick and nobody had come to look for him and…

Again, he could hear laughter ringing in his ears. Weak and slow and broken and maybe better out of sight and out of mind and uncared for and…

"Sky? Sky!"

His eyes shot open as a hissed voice in his ear and a hand on his back broke into his whirling thoughts.

Legend leaned into his field of vision, eyes wide. "Hey, can you hear me?"

He took a shuddering breath, choking on more aching, wracking sobs, but managed a nod. Desperately, he tried to stop crying, but it somehow made it worse.

"Wow, OK, uh…" Legend actually sounded lost for a moment. "Look, please don't cry, I…" He started rubbing at Sky's back. "It's OK, I didn't get a letter either, I'm sure everything's fine, what's wrong?" His words tripped over themselves as he spoke.

Sky, meanwhile, was torn between being glad someone had come to check on him and wanting to die on the spot to escape his embarrassment.

Legend had evidently realized his audience wasn't really there and just started saying "It's OK" over and over, still rubbing circles on Sky's back.

"S-Sorry," managed Sky, hugging himself.

"What happened? You're really… shall I get Warriors?"

Sky shook his head, making the world spin disorientingly. Chills were running up and down his spine as if he had a fever. "Just… stay?"

Legend blinked, but caught his elbow as he staggered and helped him sit down, leaning on the wall behind him. He knelt next to him, still rubbing his back, as Sky finally managed to start to calm down, reassured by having someone with him who, even after that humiliating display, was still willing to stay with him and comfort him.

"What… happened?" asked Legend.

As Sky sat on the dusty ground, trying to keep his breathing steady and swallow the occasional hiccupping sobs and still the shivers, he didn't know how to answer that.

He hadn't got a letter from home.

That was all, and it had somehow hurled him into the kind of spiral he hadn't experienced for ages.

"I… don't know," he whispered.

Legend stared at him for a moment, then said, "Well… something must have happened. Did someone say something?"

Well, yes, but teasing from Hyrule and Legend was nothing especially new either. It hurt sometimes, but not enough for this.

Legend was still rubbing his back and he sighed, trying to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

"I really… don't know."

Legend looked skeptical, but didn't press further. "Well, if you want to talk, I'm here anytime," he said. "For now, we should get back to the others as soon as you're feeling up to it. They're all still reading their mail, but as soon as that's done someone less inclined to take no for an answer will come looking."

"You think so?"

Legend blinked. "Well… Yeah, I think so. Why not? It's not like we'd just leave without you."

Sky chuckled, knowing it sounded a little hysterical. There was something surreal about that casual remark after everything. "Yeah… well… just give me a minute."

"OK. Do you still want me to stay?"

"Would you rather not?"

Legend shrugged.

"Please stay."

When his brother agreed easily and with no trace of regret, Sky relaxed a little, rubbing his eyes to try again to dry the tears. "Thank you."

"Of course."

"Also for coming to look for me. And listening."

Legend nodded again.

"It was… a silly thing to get so upset about."

That got a shrug. "That doesn't mean you weren't really upset."

"No, I… suppose not." Sky wiped his eyes one more time. "How obvious is it that I've been crying?"

Legend looked critically at him. "I might not notice normally," he said carefully, "But some of the others probably still will. Give it a moment longer."

"Do you really think they'll want to know what happened?"

"You've spent as long as I have with this lot. For a start, Wind will worry, the captain will want to know if there's a problem he should be aware of, and Wild will try to help without really knowing what the problem is."

Sky chuckled again. It sounded better this time and lifted a weight off his chest. "Thanks," he said again.

"Anytime. Ready? Not to rush you, but there wasn't that much mail."

Sky wiped his eyes and cheeks one more time. "Ready."

[kikker-oma]

I made a small fic for this piece of art you did bc it stuck me with emotion and I couldn’t resist

the art:

Time walked through the inn hallways, carrying a glass of water for the traveller, who had succumbed to magic exhaustion and was resting peacefully for the time being. He heard a keening sob, and then a sniffle and paused, the water splashing slightly from the abrupt stop. He followed the sound to the room where the sailor, the smithy, and the captain were staying. Worriedly, he knocked on the door with his free hand. “What?” Came a worn, small voice and the old man’s heart stuttered. 

“Can I come in?”

“I—“ A hiccup. “Yeah.”

He turned the knob and opened the door, stepping inside and examining the room, seeing the familiar blue tunic of the sailor’s and recognizing Wind, sitting on one of the bed’s with his legs dangling on the ground. He met Wind’s eyes and saw the tears and softened, closing the door shut as quietly as he could. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Time approached the kid slowly.

When all he got was a barely bit back sob he sat down next to the sailor and noticed he was clutching a telescope tightly to his chest, so tightly his knuckles were white. He didn’t press, merely laid a hand on his shoulder. And Wind looked back at the old man with streams of tears falling down his cheeks and dripping down his chin, his eyebrows pressed and he released his tense grip on the telescope holding it up slightly. “Y’know—sometimes I stay up…A-and I think about what she went through.”

She. Time held his breath, wondering who this girl was but also finding himself nearly at tears seeing and hearing this. Wind hiccuped again. “And—I th-think that.”

A sob tore its way out of the kid’s mouth and Time uttered something softly, a reassurance. Wind continued anyway. “It r-really should’ve been me.”

“No. I don’t know what happened, but you don’t deserve whatever was so bad that she went through.”

“My s-sister, she was kidnapped. She was only six years old—“ Wind gasped. “And she has nightmares of her time in a cell. I would’ve been able to handle it, old man. It should’ve been me.” 

And didn’t that make Time’s heart ache more than ever. He hugged the kid. “She’s safe now, right?” 

“W-well yeah…”

“Because you rescued her. Who would’ve been there to save you had you been in her stead?” 

He got no reply, just a muffled hiccup. Time wiped the kid’s tears away. “We can’t change the past. And no matter what your mind may tell you, even though your sister has gone through a lot, she still has you, right? You’re both still alive.” 

He wasn’t expecting a response. He wasn’t expecting anything from the poor kid right now. 

Kids. These are just kids.

Time waited patiently, keeping the sailor company as he took in what was just said and continued to cry, until Wind spoke, saying, “This telescope is my sister’s. She let me borrow it, before she…Y’know got kidnapped but when I tried to give it back she insisted that I needed it more.” 

“I see. She sounds kind.”

“She is. She helps out where she can and she comforts me when I have nightmares and Grandma isn’t there to,” Wind sniffled, rubbing his eyes. “Aryll’s the whole reason I’m out there, looking for a new place to call Hyrule. I just wish she hadn’t had to go through what she did.”

“I find myself wanting to meet her,” Time hummed. “Is she younger or older than you?” 

“Younger. When she got k-kidnapped I was about 11.”

And so the old man stood up, and smiled softly back down at the sailor. “Would you like to check on the traveller with me? I was giving him some water.”

“Yes!” Wind smiled back, hopping up and following the old man through the inn.

I feel sick. These kids have gone through so much…because I wasn’t there. I abandoned them.

ASHAJAJAHFJF

Time comforting Wind is SO PRECIOUS!!!

Dad vibes DAD VIBES DAD VIBES!!!

Oh wind is such a selfless older brother, he cares so much and is so sacrificing out of love!

I adore that time doesn't expect anything from wind, just talks with him and comforts, and then gives him the option to help Hyrule totake his mind off of it. A nice distraction while also fulfilling the need to do more and help❤️

Oh but Tiiiiimmme don't you start feeling the same way!! Someone tell this man to listen to his own words!!

Thank you Uni, this was SUCH a lovely surprise!!!!!

[kikker-oma]

For you :)

Based on this piece of art:

Time woke up with a jolt, peaceful sleep warping into panic. He didn’t know why he sat up, kicking off the comfortable in blankets until he saw the red looming over the room and illuminating it. The rest of the room was dark. It had to be nighttime. He looked behind him and the moon was blood red, flakes of malice visible in the air outside. He could feel his heart pound wildly, and flashes of a moon crashing down into the earth, and being too late, and running loop after loop came to his mind. He turned back around, facing the door and the wall, seeing the shadow of the full shape of the moon and he ran out of the room, finding the bathroom because he knew it didn’t have any windows.

He closed the door and slid against it, forcing his suddenly heavy breathing to die down. The sound of a gurgling roar shook the earth and he flinched. Then he made a split decision and carefully went outside the bathroom, stepping into the bare hallway and opened the door. He inhaled the malice and coughed miserably before looking up. He couldn’t see where exactly that thundering roar had come from but he could soon see monsters returning to flesh with a magenta glow, cheering obnoxiously.

He could almost make out a grin on the moon and his blood turned to ice as he saw all the monsters appearing. He clutched his head, hoping this was all a nightmare but it wasn’t. Link wanted to run back inside more than anything, escape the moon and Termina and stop rewinding time over and over but he was frozen in the crimson glare of the large, looming object in the equally as red sky. A sob wracked his body. “Navi! Please! Come back!”

Help me, he wanted to scream at the blue fairy, as tears streamed down on his face in a seemingly relentless flow. But she wasn’t there. Neither was Tatl, who would’ve darted to his side in an instant in a worry that she would easily deflect. He buried his face in his knees, clutching them to his chest tightly, like if he’d let go he’d unravel into the ground. Flashes of a dying Zora, a dead Goron, a grief-filled Princess of the Deku Scrubs and many long dead souls rising up from the ground, as Stalfos. Flashes of a woman in denial, willing to face the end of the world if her love wouldn’t find her. Flashes of so many unaware people that would be crushed by the falling moon. His wailing echoed loud in the air.

“WATCH OUT!”

Link looked up to see Wild there, holding up a broadsword, and standing over him. His cape flew in the wind. Time realized belatedly it was no longer red out. The moon was back to normal. There were monsters snarling and sniveling in front of them…and yet Time couldn’t find the strength to get up and help. He was still shaking, and sobbing. The champion launched into battle and he yelled, “Get inside, it’s not safe out here.”

“I-I’m not leaving you,” The old man drew in a trembling deep breath and summoned the courage to stand.

Wild hesitated but gave him a nod and plunged his sword into a Lizalfos’ shoulder. Time grabbed his sword and hacked at their foes alongside the champion, and there was actually something relieving about the thrill of battle, not having to worry about any other thing than winning this small fight. When the monsters had all vanished in a puff of purple smoke, with wounds dripping black blood, all Time had was a nick on the face and all Wild had was a small bruise on his head. The old man sheathed his weapon and gave a sigh, feeling awfully tired. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been paying attention to my surroundings, and it could’ve cost my life. That’s not a burden you should’ve had to deal with. You should’ve been able to get your rest.”

“I can never sleep during blood moons,” Wild said simply. “During my journey if I let myself sleep, even up in the trees, monsters would return and find me…and they are pretty terrible. I don’t blame you, and you shouldn’t either.”

It was his fault but he couldn’t burden the champion even more. He gave a nod, slipping on a mask of stoicism, and he dipped his head. “Thank you. I’ll be upstairs, but please get something for that bruise.”

“Get something for that cut,” Wild returned, but was frowning deeply.

He left and absently bandaged his cheek where a small amount of blood had been shed. He stared out the window and forced himself to breathe, remembering the red. The face—no that wasn’t right. There wasn’t really a face in this moon. Not like Termina’s at least. He went back to bed, covering himself with the blanket and putting his head on the pillow but no matter how much he tossed and turned, he couldn’t fall back into that peaceful sleep from before.

He heard the twist of the doorknob and his door was pushed open, as quietly as possible. He saw green and blonde and a familiar face enter the room, closing the door gently behind him. The captain came over and said softly, “You’re awake.”

“Can’t sleep,” He said truthfully. “But I’ll get over it.”

“You don’t have to hide around me, Mask.”

Time sucked in the icy air, turning away. Wars put a hand on his shoulder, eyes shining with nothing but warmth. “Answer me honestly, are you okay right now?”

He took a long moment to answer before he wordlessly shook his head. The captain made a soft noise and asked quietly if he could hug him and the old man let himself be wrapped in a hug, in the scarred yet warm and wrong arms of his brother. “You don’t have to tell me why, but I want you to know I’m here if you need anything. I’d go fight the moon for you.”

Time choked on wet laughter, knowing that Wars had no idea how much that would help him. He leaned into the captain’s embrace and the restless hours of the night caught up to him. He was safe. He wasn’t alone. He let warm tears fall as he closed his eyes and soon drifted into darkness.

IM SO SORRY I HAVENT LOOKED AT MY INBOX IN AGES☠️☠️☠️

This is LOVELY!!! I love that Time in his panic goes outside and is immediately surrounded by monsters while he's having PTSD flashbacks to termina! And wild and wars helping him fight and also comfort him is so sweet❤️❤️❤️

They're brothers!!

Thank you so much Uni🥰

[backpackevil]

Going absolutely INSANE over @whattheskyknows 's fic Galaxy Masquerade everyone go read it RIGHT NOW

I cannot put into words how good this fic is, it has completely taken over every braincell I ever had and I physically couldn't Not draw Koki- I mean uhhhh phantom thief... whose identity is unknown... obviously

Anyway

+ also some close-ups

[kikker-oma]

TRRRIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNN

YO

OH MY GREAT GOODNESS

WHAT - WHEN THE- HOW THE-

Girl ok when I say this is SO GOOD im dying when do because it's soooooo goooooood!!!!

Like omg the way you describe Twi's lack of strength and oain and the rushing in his ears, it really felt like I was passing out too! (And I have, many many times before haha)

And the way he just like, ceases to exist while he self stitches himself?! And the way he gets CAUGHT AGAIN BUT THIS TIME THR CAPTAIN AND WILD ARE THERE TO HELP?!

AAAAVSISOANSJWKA

girl you wrote ✨the line✨ twice!! "what did they do to you" has me forever in a chokehold for the best whump line in history. And the alcohol Wars has Twi drink and the way Wild comes in late with blood spattered on him👀👀👀👀 these boys mean business after what their brother went through dangit

I LOVE THIS THANK YOU SO MUCH😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️

@kikker-oma your Twilight art for Whumptober has been living rent-free in my head since you posted it and I FINALLY wrote something for it. I hope you enjoy <33

Fic beneath the cut (you can also find it on ao3!)

TW for blood and injury, needles/stitches, drugging, and kidnapping

No one asks if he needs help.

Not that Twilight expects anything more. This town is a rough one. That much is painfully clear to him. And not just in the worn woods of the buildings splotched with aged crimson, or in the hardened faces of the people that leer as he stumbles down the worn street. No, from the moment he was dragged here he knew it was a haven for evil.

Cruel hands pushing at his shoulders, fingernails digging into his wounds. Ropes around his wrists, his neck.

The pain isn’t enough to make him move faster.

They yank at his bindings. Choking, he trips over his own stumbling feet. Laughter collides with his pounding skull.

“What’s wrong, wolf boy? Lost your balance?”

Another tug on the makeshift collar. His vision goes white.

Twilight drags in a haggard breath. The taste of blood is still pungent on his tongue. Whether it is his own or that of the people who had sought to pawn him off, he no longer knows. Regardless, it makes him want to gag.

That is not the only place it has taken up residence either. Thick rivers of crimson slither down his right arm, curving gracefully along the deep, jagged gash there. Downward they plunge in large droplets that splatter onto the dusty cobblestones.

A woman passes him just a bit too close, and her gaze locks onto his wound. Twilight knows the look that comes into her eyes. Hunger. Unbridled, animalistic hunger.

He has been a wolf for long enough now to know the laws of nature. Injury means weakness. And weakness spells death.

Clutching his arm, he veers left, toward the inn that rises, a single crooked tooth among the many that form a disjointed line in this gaping maw. Nowhere is safe here. Nowhere is friendly. But his brothers are eons away for all he knows. And there are no heroes in this Hyrule.

Perhaps that’s why the Shadow had hurled him into it.

…or perhaps he had known what Twilight has learned time and time again.

No place is safe for someone like him.

One mistake, one quick, accidental portrayal of the power he holds…and the next thing he knows a dagger is slicing his arm, a needle piercing his neck, ropes encircling him like the arms of a redead, constricting until he is suffocating, until his sword clatters to the ground, his vision turning to little more than kaleidoscope explosions of light.

“Oh, the money we’ll get for this one. A wolf that can become a man? People would pay anything to see somethin’ such as that.”

Bile rises in his throat. Twilight chokes it back down. He needs a place to lay low and he needs it now.

The woman is not the only one to have taken note of his condition. He can feel others ghosting the space around him and behind, breathing down his neck, reaching toward him with skeletal hands, purring that he, “come, little one. We feel your magic. Come, and let us devour it.”

He can’t breathe though the collar is gone. His hands tremble as he grips the rail, fighting not to fall as he climbs the handful of stairs leading to the decrepit structure. His knees are weak. Pain pounds through his veins, mixing with the surging fear until they are entwined in an endless waltz of mind-numbing agony. It is all he can do to walk through the double doors and into the lobby; all he can do to stagger up to the front desk.

“I need a room,” he grits out between clenched teeth. Blood runs down the side of his mouth and he lacks the will to wipe it away. “How much?”

The innkeeper regards him, pointed disinterest in his bloodshot eyes. He looks Twilight up and down, taking in his disheveled clothing, the pelt lying defeatedly across his shoulders, the gash raining ruby-red droplets of life upon the battered floorboards. Then, he folds his bony fingers and sets them calmly before him.

“50 rupees for one night.”

Twilight plunges a hand into his pouch and draws it out trembling and blood-soaked. The rupees clatter on the table, shining like precious gemstones. Just as quickly as they are set free, their glow is snuffed out by the innkeeper’s clawed hand. With agonizing slowness, he places them in a locked box beneath the desk. Then, he slides a large key towards Twilight.

“Room eight,” he growls. “Supposin’ you make it long enough to get there.”

There is laughter in his voice, rumbling thunder of an oncoming storm. Twilight turns away.

He limps up the stairs and stumbles down the hall, leaving gore-adorned handprints on the walls and railing as he goes. They glare in his peripheral vision, splotched and jagged and fierce. He squints and they blur. The colors meld before his eyes. Swirling and sparkling, they close in, envelope him, heavy with the scent of death.

Again, his stomach revolts. Again, he bites his tongue before anything can escape.

The door comes into view, the number 8 carved in two looping circles upon its ashen surface. He collapses against it, catching himself on the frame, and with shaking hands levels the key toward the lock.

It takes several tries to get it open. But once he’s managed it, he practically falls into the room. The door slides closed of its own accord and he allows himself to slump against it.

There is a bed in the far corner, a sad little object he supposes is meant to be a nightstand beside it. He lacks the strength to reach either one of them. Twilight can hardly keep his eyes open as it is, can hardly resist the intoxicating pull of unconsciousness. The rush in his ears blankets his senses. Darkness spreads its jaws beneath him. To the beat of his heart, it chants its promises, promises of freedom from the burning pain, from the terror of being hunted.

He is sinking beneath a surface thicker, deeper, heavier than Lake Hylia. Viciously, he kicks toward the light.

One more mistake will land him in the musty basement he had hardly managed to escape, bound and gagged, drifting in a daze of remnant drugs, waiting for the moment when he will be hauled up into the blinding sun and handed off to whoever has scrounged up enough money to purchase him.

He won’t go back. He won’t.

Dragging in a sharp breath, he reaches into his pouch, rifling past bottles long drained and items that do him little good in this situation. The objects he is searching for are far duller than his spinner or his gale boomerang. But they are all he has.

He pulls them out, gazes at them. A sewing needle still threaded from the last time he had needed to darn his clothes, and some fabric thread, dark and thick. Sturdy.

The needle glints in the hazy streaks of sunlight that shine through the filthy window panes. The tremble of his hands causes the reflections to enlarge and shrink, darkness and light dancing across the slender, metallic surface. Never before has it looked quite so threatening.

Twilight clutches it in one hand and with the other, fishes a handkerchief out of his pocket. The sight of it conjures memories of a small hand brushing tears from his cheek, of a soft cloth being wound gently about his burns, hesitant vulnerability in the crimson eye that gazes into his.

“Hey, don’t cry, alright? Your family doesn’t hate you. They’re afraid.”

“Of me, Midna. They think I’m a monster.”

“You? A monster? Nah. A monstrous softy maybe. And a monstrous idiot. But never an actual monster. Believe me…I know monsters better than most.”

His next breath is more akin to a sob. Twilight wads up the cloth, shoves it in his mouth, and bites down hard. He allows himself a moment to get the needle into a somewhat secure grip. Then, he angles it towards the place where his skin begins to split.

Pushing it through hurts far worse than he ever imagined it would. The needle burrows through his flesh with agonizing slowness, emerging from one side of the divide only for him to plunge it into the other in the next second. And the thread follows dutifully, snaking lazily along and dragging his skin with it. Like a worn workhorse pulling a cart home after a long day, it treads its set path. He hardly has the strength to keep it from veering completely off.

Tears rush hot and eager into his eyes. They spill over, coursing in salty rivulets down his cheeks. His body screams with agony. His head pounds, blood roaring in his ears, stomach roiling. Crimson liquid streams from his wound, coating his fingers, turning the needle slick, darkening the thread into the deepest obsidian.

One stitch is finished, then two, three, four…a series of inelegant dashes waltzing along on rivers of gore.

He loses count of them at some point. His world narrows and simplifies until it is nothing more than this moment, this seemingly endless struggle to keep himself afloat in an ocean of agony, to keep from screaming or swooning, his fingers from slipping from their death grip on the needle.

More than once, the dismal fog that clouds his vision grows so overwhelming he nearly plummets into it. More than once, a strangled whine tears up his aching throat. More than once, he pierces uninjured skin on accident, bringing fresh bubbles of blood to the surface.

But never does the cloth slip from between his tightly clenched teeth. The jolt of pain in his jaw is hardly noticeable amongst the bone-deep agony that grips his arm.

It is only when at last, the final stitch is in place and he has blinked the traitorous gleam of stars from his vision, that he lets it fall. It flops onto the floor, a sodden mess of tears and blood, sweat and saliva. Twilight stares at it for a moment, then at the line of clumsy stitching weeping red.

He leans sideways and retches.

----------------------------------------------------

By the time Twilight stumbles out onto the road, he is shivering.

He wraps one arm protectively around himself. The other hangs at his side, leaden with pain.

The shadowed alleyways leer, caverns of ravenous black. The surrounding buildings reach out with their claws to drag him into their terrible embrace. Passerby stare at him with those same hungry eyes as before, whispering, murmuring.

He is glad the unrelenting ring in his ears blocks out their words.

The innkeeper had laughed at him again when he had returned the blood-stained key.

“Still alive, are you? Well, you won’t be for much longer. Not in your state.”

Twilight hadn’t been certain whether he was referring to his declining health or the willingness of the townspeople to take advantage of it. Regardless, that statement is more than enough to have bouncing about in his pounding skull.

More than enough to keep him moving forward.

Out. He needs to get out of this town. Then, he can stop. Then, he can allow his aching legs to give way beneath him, his half-lidded eyes to slip shut. Then, he can finally sleep.

Until that moment, this is the reality he must battle through — pain and feverish confusion and a haze of oddly distant fear.

He bites out a thin exhale from between chattering teeth. The ground bucks and heaves in waves beneath his failing feet. The genial afternoon sky whirls in patterns he cannot comprehend.

Should’ve cleaned that wound, he thinks, blurrily.

But there hadn’t been anything to clean it with. No potions or blessed objects to drive away the infection, or flames to disinfect and cauterize, or water to wash away the blood and grime…

Water.

Twilight swallows, forcing the walls of his throat apart.

He needs water. He’s so thirsty.

Two more shuffling half-steps and his body decides it has had enough. Twilight goes down in a heap of bloodied limbs, fingers scraping along a nearby wall as he attempts to catch himself.

Get up! He orders himself as he has so many times before in dungeons and forests and caves miles deep, caverns miles long. Come on, Link, you can’t give up now. Not when you’ve made it so far.

“Oh, what have we here?”

He raises his head, stares into the drifting faces of several sizable men. He cannot make out their expressions, blurred as they are. But he can see their eyes. He can see the metal that glints in their hands.

And though he doesn’t recognize them, he knows them. They have the same look about them as his captors had. They too had gazed at him as though he was meat to slice up and sell at the market.

“Looks like we’ve got a wounded one. Tried to mend that all on your own did ya?”

Twilight’s lips lift in a snarl, showcasing jagged, pointy canines.

“Leave me alone,” he croaks. His voice cracks over the last word, hitched into something dangerously close to a sob.

Desperation rises hot and fast within him. He tries to shove himself to his feet.

They grab his arms before he can.

“Not so fast.”

The largest of them — a burly man he guesses is their leader — grasps his chin, roughly angling his head up so Twilight has no choice but to look him in the eye.

“You’re not going anywhere. I smell magic on you, boy.”

A growl rumbles in his throat. Twilight yanks his face away, struggling weakly in their unforgiving grips.

“What do ya say?” The leader turns from him to grin at his companions. “How many rupees is he worth?”

“Get him to show us what all that magic can do and we’ll get at least a thousand.”

Greedy chuckles go up from the huddle. Twilight sucks in a failed attempt at an inhale. Yet another series of shivers race through him, and he crumples in their wake. It is all too much — the pain, the fear, the laughter echoing around him. It surrounds him, encompassing him in an unending nightmare.

He needs to fight. He needs to run. He can’t find the strength to do either one.

After everything, everything, he is here once more. His attempts at a struggle are nothing to these men. They will bind him, they will drag him away. And he will be helpless to do anything more than hang limply in their iron grasp.

“Alright then, boy, show us what you can do.” The leader grins. It is a sharp, bitter thing. “Give us a proper performance and we won’t hurt you. But withhold that power and, well…you won’t live to regret it.”

A knife caresses the curve of his neck. Twilight raises his head, narrows his eyes. Terror turns feverish heat to an icy chill that settles deep in his bones and races through him in violent shudders.

“No.”

The word is bitten out between shaky inhales. But he pours what little might he has left into it.

If he is going to go down, he will do so with pride. Pride that at the very least, he tried.

“No?” The knife digs deeper, seeking its prey. “That’s not the kind of thing you spit in the face of the man holding a weapon to your throat.”

He leans in. Twilight holds his gaze, even as black splotches encroach on his line of sight, ebbing and flowing like a river lapping gently at the bank.

“I’ll only ask this one more time. Show us your power.”

“You may not like it if he does,” pipes up a voice from somewhere behind the group.

Twilight’s eyes go wide.

Warriors? His scrambled brain cries.

But it can’t be, it can’t…

An arrow flies out of nowhere and pierces the leader’s hand with a nauseating thunk. The knife clatters to the ground.

“My friend happens to be a skilled marksman,” comes Warriors’ voice again. It echoes over the sound of agonized screams. “But he has other talents too…and little mercy. Get back. Let him go. Or you’ll regret it.”

“No!”

The grip on his shoulders tightens. Another dagger is pressed to his throat. Twilight hardly has the energy to fear it this time.

But there is no reason to. Another second and the clawing grasp disappears entirely. The chilled metal falls, useless beside its mate.

There is no scream. Only the dull, slick sound of a blade forcing through skin, then retreating as fast as it came. At the same time, another arrow soars past. It is every bit as precise as before. And this time, it strikes the leader through the heart.

Two bodies fall with a thud that echoes through Twilight’s ears. He slouches sideways, sinking enveloped in the melody of anguish.

Warriors catapults into view, a whirl of emeralds and fierce royal blues. One swift movement and Twilight collapses onto his shoulder rather than the blood-slicked ground.

“W-wars,” he starts to say, but the captain is already pulling him to his feet with a grunt of effort.

“Can you walk?” He asks and the tone of his voice is one Twilight has only heard him use when he is leading.

Arduously, he nods.

The others fall one by one as Warriors half-ushers, half-drags him forward. Where they are going, he hasn’t a clue and he lacks the will to ask. He merely follows, stumbling on fumbling feet and hanging onto the miraculous dream he has wandered into.

At some point, they emerge from the confines of the shoddy town into a blessedly wooded area. Twilight sinks down as soon as they come to a stop. Warriors helps him lean back against one of the large trees.

Only then does the captain truly take him in. His gaze before had been calculating and distant, thoughts and cares locked behind an impenetrable barrier. But now that wall lowers just enough for Twilight to see the darkness shine through it.

“What did they do to you?” It is a mere hiss, not even directed at him. But Twilight feels an empty reply rising in his throat anyway.

All that comes out is a thick cough.

Aether eyes find his. A handkerchief slips into his grasp.

“Don’t speak, save your energy.” Practiced fingers ghost his most severe wound. “You stitched this up yourself?”

Twilight doesn’t need to even attempt to reply. The captain answers the question himself with a nod of his head.

“Yeah, I’m going to have to remove those stitches, clean it, then stitch it up again.”

He speaks fast, words tumbling in an unending stream Twilight is hopeless to follow. He watches dumbly as Warriors digs into his pouch, sets a pristine cloth on the ground, and lines several objects up upon it.

“Here.” He presses a bottle into Twilight’s hands. Liquid the color of maple syrup glitters inside. “Take a few drinks. I won’t pretend this won’t hurt. You’re going to need something to dull the pain.”

Twilight watches him press a small dagger against the molten tip of a fire rod, and suddenly, a streak of gut-rending dread pierces through the fog. Dutifully, he lifts the bottle to his lips, chokes back a few scalding swallows, and tries to breathe as it melts its way into his veins.

“How’d-how’d you find me?” He grits out. Fuzzy thoughts become almost unintelligible beneath the touch of alcohol. But this, at least, he must know.

Somewhere behind him, frantic footsteps crunch on fallen leaves. Warriors glances up from his work, hand flying to his sword for a split second before he lowers it with a grim smile.

“It wasn’t me,” he says. “Turns out your cub is good at tracking. I’m lucky we ended up together when we were separated from the others.”

Wild comes racing into view like a shooting star, hair flying out behind him, bow held tightly in one hand. He slings it over his shoulder as he skids to a halt.

“Twi! Are you okay — oh Hylia, what did they do to you?” The words pour out of him in a waterfall of emotion.

There is blood on his cheek, Twilight realizes dimly. He is too far gone to know whether it is his own or not.

“You ‘lright, cub?” He slurs, reaching to try to wipe it away.

Wild catches his flailing hand and lowers it, with trembling care.

“You idiot.” There is no heat in his tone, only fear. Exasperated, terrible fear. “You need to be worrying about yourself! You look like a hynox sat on you!”

An insane giggle erupts from the rancher, born of pain and anguish and giddy relief. He lists sideways, and Wild wraps his arms around him, drawing his head to his chest.

“Champion.” Warriors has a dagger in his hand now. A needle and thread rest on the cloth beside him. “Hold him tight. I’ve got to mend this wound.”

Fingers press against his screaming skin, gentle yet firm. Metal gleams in the setting sun. Wild’s heart beats fast in his ear. Fingers card through his matted hair.

The captain meets his eyes.

“And rancher, take a deep breath. We’re going to take care of you now.”

Wild’s hand envelopes his, heedless of the blood that turns Twilight’s fingers sticky. He grasps it like his life depends upon it. And as Warriors begins his terrible work, he closes his eyes.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

I forgot to share this, @kikker-oma had made this in honor of Abel's surprise appearance in the Healthcare AU and gave me permission to share it, so here it is in all its glory because she is an absolutely phenomenal artist <3 <3 <3 Healthcare Hyrule in his element, and Abel having a pretty typical day for his sad, angsty life (RIP my beloved blorbo LOL)

[rainbow-cheshire]

☆ᴄαтᴄн & ʀєℓєαѕє☆ (commission for @sushihara 💙)

was originally planning to work on comms in chronological order but then i remembered today is saiouma day so i stayed up until 4am to finish colouring lol, i swear to god i've been wanting to draw catch & release fan art for so long thank you so much zeph for commissioning me to draw this, i absolutely love reverse phantom thief saiou especially this one and i honestly had a lot of fun working on this, hope you guys like it too! also go read catch & release on ao3 it's by @chuwuyas and it's absolutely amazing (comms are still open but i won't be able to work on it immediately) (bg is inspired by derekdomnicdsouza on insta!)

💙this is a commission piece and therefore reposting this work will not be allowed at all unless you are the one who commissioned this, thank you!💙

[kikker-oma]

hi I decided to write a fanfic based off of one of the hc arts you posted

Also wild’s… insult is based off of this:

Family was once a foreign to the Hero of Men.

Sure, he had his grandfather, and the Minish did welcome him with open arms, but still, it felt empty. 

Not until recent events. 

“I can’t believe it-“ The sailor’s grip was tight, Four could feel his skin turn shades of off-white and red against the grip, you’re doing the same, the logic fought back at him, so he couldn’t bring his heart to let go, “I am you! Or, like, part you, half you? How much time passed?” 

He could only respond with a smile that bore no less than pure joy, “I don’t know-but you’re family.” His gaze felt blurred as liquid happiness pooled in his eyes, his smile raising his cheeks that were flushed with pride. His eyes soon registered a familiar face-the captain waking by, “Hey! Wars!”

The man in question stopped in his tracks, “Yes?” He responded, his tone cautious as he basked in the look on the two’s faces.

“See the family resemblance?” 

Warriors couldn’t help but gaze in confusion, mildly disturbed, “Uh…” he looked up and down, trying to find something, anything, relatively similar, “Big eyes?-“

“No, no, no.” This voice was coming from the champion. His thumbs fiddling with a can of oats. “Blonde.” He began, scooping out a decent amount with his bare hands. 

“Short.” He continued, the grains in question now being crunched on. How was he not choking? That would remain a mystery. Four wanted to break his kneecaps at that comment, yet he allowed the champion to continue.

“And most important of them all,” he knelt down mockingly, a menacing grin on his face, “No abs.” 

His kneecaps got broken in the end. Four could tell by the intensity on how both were broken, they were indeed family.

WAHAHAHA BLARE🤣🤣

This is amazing, they really are related🤣🤣 one family member for each of Wilds blasphemous kneecaps hahaha

Aaahhh four and Wind are SO. CUTE🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭😭😭 they're so happy and just wanna brag to their brothers-in-arms🥰🥰🥰

Thank you so much Blare!!

[kikker-oma]

BLARE!!! You sweet woman, I'm so sorry I missed this post!!

This is so so cute, I ADORE Wind and Four interactions, ESPECIALLY about them being related❤️❤️❤️ they're just 2 cutie patooties🥰🥰

"he sees how much he means to Aryll now" IS SOOO CUUUUTE WAAAAHHH😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺 and the banter!

Thank you so much for this gift, it's so lovely❤️

Birthday Fanfic For Oma

@kikker-oma happy 26th (I think?) birthday! You absolutely crushed this year, and I hope you have many, MANY more.

Also this was written hours ago. I just want this to be posted at 12:00am on the dot lol.

Here's some Four-is-related-to-Wind shenanigans. Ft: Genetics!

~~~~~~~~

It was hard to believe the two were related, aside from the whole shield-that-was-passed-through-generations thing. Not a single soul noticed a hint of resemblance, aside from the obvious big eyes and blonde hair.

The Hero of Winds resented it, really. He felt embarrassed, trying to explain that he had family outside of Grandma and Aryll. While he loved them, it was nice having someone that had wisdom, and a connection only a brother could give.

He sees how much he means to Aryll, now.

He fiddled with the bandages wrapped around his hand, the sensitive skin still feeling the sting of alcohol. It was his fault, really, he should have picked up his sword by the hilt, not the blade. Alas, stupidity happens to the best of people.

"Stop playing with that," he jumped at the voice, his body flinching away from the sudden, albeit quiet, noise, "It will heal slower if you do."

"It's fine. I naturally heal fast." He tilted his head to his right shoulder, raising his eyebrows as if to tell the Hero of Minish: I got this.

The smith simply gave a curt smile, "You can thank me for that."

"Why would I?"

He rolled up his sleeves until they reached slightly above his elbows, and did the same with his pants and knees, "Do you see any scarring?" His eyes did the squinting thing, the look that meant that he already knew the answer to his question.

The sailor huffed, "Well you're short; swords can't reach you down there." There was no malice in his words, but he still earned a playful painful swat from the other.

"Blades aren't the only things that hurt, you know." He rolled his eyes, "Plus, we're almost the same height, so that would go for you too."

The hero stopped protesting, flopping down onto the soft grass, feeling the little points at the end tickle his cheeks, "Fine, you win." He let out a long sigh, "What do you want me to say? Thank you oh so wise, pinnacle of amazingness, stronger than the goddesses themselves, leaving the royal family to their knees greatgreatgreatgreatgreatgreatgreatgreatgreatgreat grandpa?"

The bandana'd hero grinned, "Precisely."

"I hate you."

"That would mean you'd be hating a part of yourself!"

[fried-manto]

A scene from something I wrote:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50389594

[nabateaprodigy]

Can you do gn reader with rantaro and kokichi (separate) fluff please literally anything please i just need something on them

Rantaro and Kokichi Headcannons

Series: Danganronpa.

Characters Kokichi Oma and Rantaro Amai.

Genre: Fluff.

Proofread: Yes.

Reader: Gender Neutral.

Notes: I just lazily threw this image together of their plushies since I didn't know what other image to use lmao.

Kokichi Oma

Okay, first thing first this little gremlin is going to annoy you CONSTANTLY! He'll follow you around everywhere you go and you'll hear that "Nishishi" laugh of his a lot. Of course, you'll hear him laugh a lot whenever he's playing a prank on someone.

Speaking of which! He'll either prank you a lot or invite you to play pranks on others such as Miu and Gonta. If he ends up pranking you then he'll run away as soon as the prank is done while you case him around for pranking you.

Don't ever try to hide anything from him or even lie to him. Because if you do you'll find yourself getting kiss after kiss from Kokichi until you confess to him what's worrying you.

If you're ever talking with another person, especially a guy he'll get super jealous! Even worse if it's his rival Shuichi! You like that side of him as you get to see his cute pouty face!

He can be super clingy with you when he feels like he's not getting enough attention. He'll hold onto your arm or leg and dramatically cry about how you "Don't love him anymore." You know he's faking it but still doesn't make any less embarrassed, especially around other people.

Of course, he introduces you to the members of DICE! They're all very nice and your happy Kokichi has such amazing friends like them. Of course, if you want you can become a member of DICE as well the number of pranks will double with the other members around!

As I've mentioned before Kokichi can be super clingy! This is the same for whenever you two are cuddling. If you're laying down for example he'll curle up in your embrace ready to spend hours cuddling you.

Rantaro Amai

Just like how Kokichi is a guy who will annoy you constantly. Rantaro is a guy who will tease you CONSTANTLY! But he just can't help himself he loves seeing your cute reaction whenever he teases you!

He has the warmest and softest hands and loves holding your face and looking at you lovingly. This is the same for cuddling it's one of his favorite things to do with you. He loves having you sit in his lap while he wraps his arms around you.

Of course, he has you meet all of his sisters. You were a little nervous since he has so many of them. But Rantaro reassured you everything would be fine. He was right all his sisters love you and are so happy for you and Rantaro!

Rantaro is a person for PDA! He loves holding your hand or just hugging you when you're out in public with him. If you're in school with him he'll pass notes to you with "I love you <3" written on them.

He can be rather overprotective of you at times. It's just his brotherly instinct tho from caring for all his sisters. So he'll pull you close to him whenever you're talking to a person he doesn't know or trust.

You know how much Rantaro likes to travel and explore. If you don't go with Rantaro whenever he does out on a trip. He'll always return with souvenirs that reminded him of you.

He'll help you in the mornings whenever you're getting ready. He'll help you with your hair, makeup, or anything else. Again something he's used to doing with his sisters but loves doing it with you.

He loves seeing you when you wake up in the morning. He gets to see a side to you not much others see. Loves giving you kisses whenever you wake up.

[kkatastrophic]

Danganronpa V3 AU:

They all catch Tsumugi in the first chapter using Kaede's plan and go to the outside world without much idea of what's going on. (including flashback lights, fiction, etc.) turns out Tsumugi used other peoples' identities for the game (there is a famous pianist named Kaede Akamatsu, a leader named Kokichi Oma etc)

All the remaining students are wanted for "identity theft" (although it was out of their control, many questions of drv3 were not answered because it ended so quickly without a resolve.)

The AU revolves around them surviving in an apocalyptic world, on the run from everybody, they're all together trying to survive, and trying to piece together their true pasts.

[kikker-oma]

I was literally and actually speechless for 20 MINUTES😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

This means so so so so so so much to me, like, I'm absolutely and COMPLETELY FLOORED?!🥹🥹🥹

I ACTUALLY SHED A TEAR, DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS FOR ME TO ACTUALLY CRY?! BECAUSE IT IS, THATS HOW MUCH THIS MEANT TO ME

I can't thank you all enough, I am so incredibly honored by this and this is being printed off and hung up on my wall as the ONLY thing on my walls❤️❤️❤️

The fact that you organized this Luna? And that so many of you joined and gave your precious time and talents to gift this to me? And like, there's so much thought put into this I just like, can't comprehend this, actually

I'm going to be staring at this for the rest of my life and wondering how in the world I deserve all of you🥹

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU-

I feel like no amount of me thanking you will actually be enough!! AAAAAGSJSOSJZHSIANXHFIRISJABAJS

WWHAT EVEN

I WILL NEVER RECOVER FROM THIS/EXTREMELY POS

@kikker-oma

Happy Fan Joy July, Oma!!!

Oma, thank you so so much for making Fan Joy July and sharing it with us! Our fandom, our artists, writers, readers, etc have loved seeing or taking part in this crazy challenge.

This is our gift to thank you- from artists all around who were affected by, or got gifts from, or took part in Fan Joy July. We all love you so much- so we made letters/art for this (Zelda themed!). Many said that they had already wanted to make/write you something, and this gave an opportunity.

One of the things I've loved about this month is how community/interaction centered you made it. The challenge was for yourself to make art each day (you absolute maniac /affectionate)- but then others joined. This July we saw or made art or fics with recommendations. Every day you made art for a writer with a scene from one of their fics, and inspired others to do the same, and writers even wrote every day for an artist based off an art piece they made! This led to a month of gift giving- everyone interacting and getting love for creating.

You truly led to a month of Joy for a lot of loz/lu fans- making the name "Fan Joy July" quite accurate

Thank you, Oma

Thank you for the gifts you gave all of us and the way you inspire others

Additional ramblings and art credits below the cut :P

I'm so grateful to all my artists who stepped up so we could do this when I asked- almost 36 hours and 19 artists. The art is like patchwork, with all these different styles, both traditional and digital put together. But that's exactly what happened- we all got drawn together, just like the other month-long challenges. It's so cool how art always connects people.

The artists who participated are @zolanort @la-sera @nancyheart11 @galenfeadraws @shade-pup-cub @arecaceae175 @isasan347 @ghosthoard @smilesrobotlover @unexpectedstormy @skyloftian-nutcase @knight-of-aether @uniquevoidflowers @jinxedruby @windwakingwhale @skyward-floored @xaeorian @blarefordaglare and me Thank you to all of you- You are all so cool and I'm glad! If I accidentally missed tagging or listing someone please let me know I'm so scared of if that happened djskdjdkd

There are letters based off of the colours/theme of each of the Lu boys- it's mainly Zelda and linkeduniverse themed... but we couldn't not have frogs for Oma! I did a frog, his name is Froggy and I'm very proud.

Here's a picture with a list of who did what-

Normally I would apologise for my handwriting, but you guys would just tell me it looks good anyways and honestly it does look good. :D Sorry for the ink splotches tho, and I hope you can read it.

We did this for you, Oma, because... well you are awesome /gen. You gave us the opportunity for a great month and we wanted to say thank you for all the joy you brought us so... thank you :)

Art :D

As for everyone who said they wanted to talk to Oma or other Fan Joy July artists who they loved sharing this month with... feel free to tag and share in the reblogs. Share the joy I guess- there's enough to go around :D

Happy Fan Joy July, Oma :))

[ultimate-heartache]

No Matter the Cost - Chapter 6 : Carnival of Despair

Cue the music, it's showtime. - - - Fandom: Danganronpa  Relationship(s): Shuichi Saihara/Kokichi Oma Rating: M Warnings: N/A Chapter Length: 16,160 words - - - Excerpt:  - - - The glowing centerpiece of it all, Shuichi had to admit, was the massive twirling carousel, sky blue and gold and timeless, vintage horses running in slow circles to the music. But that’s not what was drawing Shuichi’s eye. Rather, on top of it, basking in the spotlight, was the masked figure himself, sparkling white suit reflecting all the colors of the carnival like a shining beacon. He hung off the towering flagpole of the ride as if it were nothing, one arm and one leg flailing out to the breeze as he laughed maniacally into the night, soaking up the detective’s shocked expression. He was carefree, untouchable, invincible. He was extraordinary. - - - Link

[templegate]

The downside to being the human body pillow of someone with a 10 inch height advantage who was also much stronger than him, was that Kaito could manhandle Kokichi in his sleep. And sometimes by some stroke of luck Kokichi would find himself crushed beneath 193 pounds of astronaut. Considering the events that led to this problem in the first place involved him getting pulverized by a hydraulic press, Kokichi was not a fan.

And Harukawa, cruel and heartless Harukawa would stare at him with her creepy red eyes, and smile. Perfectly content to let the machinations of her own torment backfire on him. And a new game would commence.

The game was called Flashback Chicken.

Or Kokichi and Maki are pseudo-metamours.