#hopefully i can make this into a fic

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[cacaocheri]

sun from help wanted 2 got me thinking about fic shenanigans.... i think he gets to be a bit more unhinged

[fiepige]

Compilation of EVERY single time they changed Hobie's filter in the digital version:

Left: Theatrical release Right: Digital release

You might have to click on some of them to get a better look at Hobie, sadly I don't have a video editor that allows me to make better edits than these :')

[myokk]

from my oneshot, note-taking 🫶🫶🫶

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter 4 - Runaway

<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter - Next Chapter >

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Dubcon, Plus-sized reader, female reader, Poorly thought out action sequences, Guns, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me. No promises for future chapters though I might even tell y'all her name.

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

You wake in the morning with your nose buried in a thick patch of chest hair, and strong arms around you. Your legs are hooked around one of his thick thighs, and something hard digs into your stomach. You start to inch away, but his arms tighten, and his hips cant against you, a thick, sleepy groan rumbling in his chest. It would be a nice way to wake up, if not for the circumstances. It’s been ages since you slept beside another person, let alone someone that feels as comfortable as John does.

“John,” you say softly. You don’t want to fully wake him up, just get him to let you go. “John, please let me go.”

He hums, one hand sliding to your waist, and then down to your hip, pulling you closer, grinding you against his thigh. You squeak in protest, becoming aware that you’re already wet, like you’ve been unconsciously humping his leg in your sleep for some time. You push your slightly freer top half away a little, so you can look at him. He’s still sleeping, a little frown on his face as he’s pulled unwillingly toward consciousness. He really is handsome, especially like this, all his defences down, grumbling like a hibernating bear.

“Don’t wake up,” you tell him, as if it’ll make any difference. “I just have to pee.”

One of his blue eyes cracks open, a little unfocused. “You comin’ back?” His voice is rough from sleep, rasping like sandpaper.

“Sure,” you say, even though you have no intention of doing so. Your body seems as eager as his is for something you’re sure is dangerous. Maybe he smells good, like tobacco, warm, boozy spices and something undeniably male, and maybe he feels warm and solid against you, but you don’t want to encourage this. You just want to enough space to clear your head. His admissions last night still have you spooked, John’s words not tempered by a night of surprisingly good sleep. “I’ll just be a minute.”

He loosens his hold on you enough that you can wiggle free, his eyes opening a little more so he can watch you slip out of bed. He rolls over onto his back, and starts snoring gently before you’ve even made it to the bedroom door. You take the opportunity to snag one of the bags stacked in front of the closet and your purse off the dresser and bring both to the bathroom with you. You’re not sure what’s in the bag, but you know the larger suitcase has things from your closet in it, so you’re hoping this one has more from your dresser.

You get dressed, glad that most of your underthings and a comfortable pair of jeans and a thick sweater are inside and pack your toothbrush and makeup bag into the larger one, and creep downstairs carefully. One of them is snoring gently on the couch, but otherwise, the house is silent. You carefully fish a set of keys off the hooks by the door and sneak outside. You don’t know where any of your shoes are except the red heels, so you just leave in your sock feet, and pile your things into the pick-up truck. You’ll drive it into town and leave it there, buy a ticket on a train or a bus, and get the hell back home.

It sucks to have to leave everything you own, beyond the clothes in the one bag and the contents of your purse, but maybe you can call the cops— Well. Probably not. Better to just start over anywhere else. You have digital copies of a few pictures of your parents, and that’s better than nothing, even if their wedding album is sitting on a shelf in John’s living room, along with all the family photos that your parents took of you and them while you were growing up. Your mother’s sketchbooks too, and her camera, and your dad’s guitar.

You bite your lip, holding back tears, and start the truck.

No sense mourning things. The memories are in your head and your heart, not trapped in the pages of books or twisted into the strings of the guitar. You don’t need them.

You haven’t driven in a long time, and the truck, unfortunately, is a manual, which you haven’t driven in even longer, but you manage to pull away from the house without revving the engine too hard, and pick up speed once you get to the road, only just remembering to hit the clutch with your left foot before you change gears. You’d feel pretty pathetic if you only made it to the road before stalling out the pickup.

You’re not sure which way town is, but you figure the road has to lead somewhere no matter which way you choose, so you navigate blindly, turning onto a bigger road a little ways down the gravel one that leads to John’s house. Bigger road means more people, although the hour is still so early that there’s no one around yet. The sun is barely up, and it’s still shadowy in the woods on either side of the road. The woods give way to fields suddenly, the sun making a too-bright debut, shining right into your eyes. You flip down the visor and adjust the rear-view mirror, wincing when you see a blue car a ways behind you, approaching fast.

You didn’t notice the car when you were leaving— It must have been parked behind the bigger van that they’d used to move all your things— but it looks sporty and fast, and judging by the way it closes the gap, there’s no question that it’s them. You push the truck harder, squinting against the light, heart hammering. The car’s engine roars, loud enough that you can hear it over the blood rushing in your ears, and pulls into the lane beside you. Gaz motions for you to pull over from the passenger seat.

You slow up enough that they pull ahead a little, and you yank your steering wheel to the side and stomp down on the gas and the clutch, shifting into third gear and nailing the side of the car, shattering a tail light and making it spin, stopping just shy of the ditch.

For a moment, you’re still close enough to see the shock on their faces, but you’re moving fast and leave them in the dust, at least momentarily. It won’t take them long to recover and catch up again, and if they hit you with the same maneuver, there’s no way you’ll be able to get the truck under control. There’s not enough weight in the bed of the truck to compensate, and you’ll wind up in the ditch for certain.

Funny, how it comes back to you. Learning to drive along mountain roads way outside Aberdeen, either in your dad’s little car or your mom’s old truck (usually the car, which was the easier one to drive. Your dad was the safer driver too, the better parent to learn from), and you can almost imagine your mother in the passenger seat, laughing her head off at the insane circumstances, encouraging you to throw caution to the wind, to get a feel for the road under the wheels and the way the old truck handled. She always laughed when she was under stress, but it’s comforting to think of. Your mum would never let a couple of thick-headed military assholes get the better of her.

The car is catching up again, so you floor it and smash through a fence gate into a muddy field, where the car won’t handle as well, and speed your way across the stubbly remains of wheat, already harvested. The car follows, and, predictably, struggles, the low frame too close to the muck, bumping unhappily over the soft, uneven ground.

Laughter bubbles up in your chest, relieving some of the built-up anxiety. You smash through a segment of the fence on the other side and yank the truck back onto the road, giggling when the truck fishtails a bit, mud slicking the tires on the pavement. There’s so much adrenaline coursing through your system that you feel like you might be sick the moment you let any of this catch up with you. So you keep driving, and pray that it doesn’t.

The car gets close again when you reach another wooded section of road. Through the rearview mirror you can see Gaz pop out of the window, gun drawn, but you don’t hear the crack when it fires, you only feel the impact when the bullet strikes one of the rear tires. You shriek, slamming on the breaks as the truck spins out of your control and off the road, slamming into a tree head on.

The lurch forward as the airbags deploy, your body hitting them hard, knocking all the air out of your lungs as you’re slapped back into he seat. The seat belt bites into your shoulder painfully. You unbuckle yourself quickly, ears ringing too loudly for you to hear the screeching tires of the pursuit car. You fall to the ground when you try to get out, head spinning.

You stumble into the trees, still blinking away double vision. If you can find a good spot to hide— Maybe you can double back and take the car while they chase you blindly through the trees. You cast about, feeling every rapidly forming bruise, wishing desperately that you had shoes, and dive into the underbrush, scooting forward on your belly, brambles catching in your hair as you curl up, out of sight.

“Please come out, doll,” you hear Gaz call out, boots crunching through the woods, closer than you would like. “It’s okay, we’re not mad. Just come out and we’ll take you home, yeah?”

Johnny is yelling further off, his voice incomprehensible but sing-song, mocking. Gaz moves further into the woods. You wait until his voice grows a little more distant before you drag yourself back out, sweater streaked with mud, leaves in your hair, and quickly sneak back to the road. The car is still running, the driver door left open. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“There you are, bird.”

You scream. A gloved hand drops over your mouth, cutting off the sound, and an arm loops around your waist, picking you right up off your feet.

Fuck.

"Look what you did, bird. Wrecked up Price's truck. 'E's not goin' to be 'appy about that." He turns so you can see the slightly smoking truck, the front half of it crumpled beyond repair.

You shake your head until he pulls his hand away from your mouth. "Its not my fault I crashed. Gaz shot the tire out. I wasn't even going to steal it, just leave it in town once I'd gotten to a bus stop."

He hums. You hear the slight crackle of a radio. "Got 'er, lads. Come back to the car."

"Rog."

"Aye."

Ghost shoves you into the back seat. "Stay put," he says sternly. "You're already banged up, don't want to 'ave to tackle you."

You sigh, all the fight leaving you. You feel awful, bruised and shaken up and trembling, and you do nothing but watch as Ghost gathers your things from the truck and puts them in the boot of the car. You slump back in the seat, inspecting the scratches on your hands idly. Your head hurts, and your shoulder aches, and you feel a bit like you've been stepped on, but nothing feels broken, just bruised and tender. You got lucky.

Well, not lucky. There's very little about any of this that counts as luck. Especially considering the look on Johnny's face when he jogs out of the trees. At first he looks stormy, but he grins when he sees you and opens the back door to crawl onto the seat and on top of you.

"Steamin Jesus, where'd ye learn ta drive like tha'?" He asks. "Didnae ken ye were a racer."

"Outside Aberdeen," you reply. Your ribs hurt. Soap’s weight makes every little ache more acute.

"Price isn't gonna be happy about his truck," Gaz says, tossing himself into the driver's seat. "What were you thinking, doll? You could've been hurt."

"You didn't have to shoot the tire." You try to push Soap off, but he wraps himself around you, a bit tight, but bearably so. You’re trembling, and he’s trying to help, in a thoroughly unhelpful way. "I was just trying to get home."

"That's the wrong way. Your home's with Price now." Ghost gets into the other front seat, and Gaz reverses back out onto the road.

You sigh, leaning your head against the window, watching the countryside flash by. It takes an embarrassingly short time to get back to John's house. You didn't get as far as you would have liked, hardly got anywhere at all. Your eyes prickle with tears, but you don't want to cry in front of them. You want to go back to bed, maybe back in time to the morning. You would have been wiser just to curl up next to John again.

Soap drags you from the car, hands a bit rough on your bruises, and pulls you back to the house. John rushes out, worry creasing his face, blue eyes sweeping over you and turning furious. "What happened?" he barks, not at you, but at his men.

"Bird was makin' a run for it," Ghost says.

"Wrecked your truck," Gaz adds.

"That's not my fault!" you protest. "You shot at me!" You glare at him, frustrated tears overflowing down your cheeks. It’s like they have no idea what kind of stress they’ve put you through.

"Woah, woah, c'mere, doll." John pulls you against his chest, wrapping strong arms around you, stilling some of the tremble in your limbs. "You broken?"

You shake your head, leaning into him, gripping his t-shirt tightly. You breathe in raggedly, trying to steady yourself.

"Lads. Why did you shoot at her?"

"Trying to stop the truck."

"She's a civilian you muppets. I take it that the truck's in no shape to drive, or you would've brought it back. You could have killed her." He pets a hand over your head, plucking out a few leaves. "You should’ve let her go."

"She stole your truck!" Soap protests.

"So what? It's wrecked now anyway, innit?" The silence behind you speaks volumes. "Alright, doll, why don't you go get cleaned up? " he murmurs against the top of your head. "I need to talk to the lads, and what I have to say is not fit for a lady's ears."

He gently ushers you into the house and closes the door firmly behind you. You trudge upstairs, feeling utterly pathetic, and lock yourself into the bathroom. Still sniffling, you comb sticks and leaves out of your hair with your fingers and put yourself into a hot shower, where you give yourself the freedom to cry your eyes out, hoping that the sound of water drowns your stifled sobs.

The house is quiet when you shut off the shower and dry yourself off. You wrap the shirt you'd slept in around you and poke your head out into the hallway. John is right there, holding out a bundle of clothes. "Here, sweetheart," he says softly, like he's worried a sharp word will set you off again. He must have heard everything. "I sent the boys to deal with the truck and that tail light, so it's just us. Just come on downstairs when you're ready."

You open the door wide enough to accept the clothes, and he turns to leave again, content to leave anything else to be said when you make it downstairs.

He'd obviously taken his cue from what you'd been wearing already, because he gives you a sweater and jeans again, comfortable worn in things. You go downstairs carefully, every joint and muscle in your body aching, even after the shower.

"How do you take your coffee?" he asks. "Or do you prefer tea?"

"Coffee, please. I can make it. I'd feel better if I did, honestly." You skirt around him to the cupboard where you'd seen Gaz take mugs out, recognizing your own nestled among John's mismatched ones. You put milk and sugar in your favourite mug, and pour in coffee, stirring it throroughly. The clink of the spoon is loud, and so is the pan he sets on the stove top.

"Eggs and toast okay?" He asks.

"Um, yeah. That would be nice. Over easy?"

"Yes ma'am." He looks at you over his shoulder while butter melts in the pan, blue eyes all worry. "Did I say something to you last night? Maybe the sort of thing that made you feel like you needed to steal a truck and run as fast as you could away from here?"

"Um. Yes." You hold onto the mug with both hands. "Some stuff about wanting to start a family. With me."

His ears turn pink. "I see."

"I suppose this is where you tell me it was just the whiskey talking, right?" you ask hopefully. You like him, even if it’s ill-advised, maybe even dangerous to do so.

"Wish I could."

Your stomach twists. “Oh.”

John turns around fully, guilt and sadness written all over his handsome face. He steps closer and touches your arm gently. “I’m so sorry about what my boys have put you through, sweetheart. None of this has been right.” He sighs, brushing a few tendrils of still-wet hair away from your face, studying you, those intense blue eyes focused on you intently. “But there’s something special about you, doll. I really do want to keep you forever. Not if you’re scared, and not if you feel forced— It’s just, the thought of you leavin' and never wanting to speak to me again is— I don’t want that.”

You swallow nervously. “This is just really overwhelming.”

“I know. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have let this happen. Soap really could have just given you my number.” The smile he gives you is hopeful, and you can’t help but return it, just a little. “Now go sit down, doll. Let me take care of breakfast, hm?”

You nod and move to the table, sitting where you can watch him, and peek out the window too. The car is gone, but the van is still there for the moment, sitting idly to the side. You consider making another run for it, but your aching limbs protest even the thought. There’s not enough fight in you, and you’re not even sure you want to fight John, not the way you do the other three. His only crime has been wanting you to stay, and being a bit overzealous about it. You can’t be mad at him for that, can you? It isn’t really his fault.

Well, it might be his fault, in a roundabout way. He trained them, taught them how to ruthlessly pursue an objective. It’s just not his fault they can’t keep it from coming home with them. That’s a clear failure of whoever does their mental health assessments.

You sip your coffee and watch John crack eggs into a pan. He keeps glancing at you, and his smile flickers on a little longer each time that he catches you looking back, until he doesn’t stop smiling, and just looks happy, glad to have you there, even if you’re just keeping a silent vigil on the other side of the room.

It's not like you have anywhere to go. It'll take days at least to feel like you haven't just been in a car crash, and days more to locate everything to pack it back up. So long as you don't have to share a bed with John again, you think you could live with this, for at least a week. It can't be that terrible, so long as the others leave you alone. You rather hope they just leave. If you asked, would John send them away?

"John," you say as he sets a plate with buttered toast and a couple of eggs on it in front of you, and sets a couple tablets of paracetamol beside your plate. "If I stay… Will they be staying too?"

"I'm going to have them leave this afternoon. That alright with you? We can go for a walk to the neighbours while they pack up, if you're up for it. Maybe dr-- Well, not drive." He sets his own plate down and sits next to you, handing you a knife and a fork. “Have to get that sorted out. But the neighbours-- Rob and Melissa-- Their dog just had puppies a few weeks ago. Do you like dogs?”

You nod, breaking the yolks of one of the eggs with a corner of toast. "My parents had a dog when I was growing up. Some kind of German shepherd cross. Best boy. His name was Rob Roy, because he was a wee outlaw. Mam found him digging in the trash and--" you stop and give John a baleful look. "Sorry. That was more than you were asking."

"No, that's the most you've said at once this whole time. I'd listen to you talk all day, doll. Don't ever apologize."

"Sorry I-- Oh, shit, sorry--" you press your fingers to your mouth, cutting yourself off. "Force of habit."

"I'd like to see you lose that one. You have nothin' to apologize for. Not one damn thing, and especially not talking. I think you have the prettiest voice I've ever heard."

You roll your eyes, but you can't help smiling. "You're just saying that."

He touches your arm lightly. "You don't know me too well yet, doll, but I never just say anything."

Yet hangs in the air, heavy and deliberate. He wants you to know him, wants you to stay with him, wants you to like him. Even if it makes no sense, the offer is tempting. It's been a long time since you've let someone get close— You've had the occasional fling, and the odd reunion with an ex that you’d stayed friends with, but grief is like a canyon you can't bear to cross. What if you love someone and you lose them, the way you lost your parents? How could you live with that all over again?

Still, there's something that feels like warm sunlight in his smile, and you can't help but incline toward him, slowly but surely reaching for the light. No one can live in the shade forever. There’s no nobility in suffering.

So you let yourself talk, at least a little. And he listens, hanging on to your words like they're precious, gazing at you with something unfurling in his expression that you can't name. You're almost afraid to try.

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[generichoneydew]

disco ninja frog and bancho house wife

this was so cosmically funny in my head I had to manifest it into drawing form (30 minute speedrun)

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 31 - making amends

Cries wails screams sobs I’m finally done I’m gonna cry

This isn’t the best but it’s DONE and that’s all that matters, babey. Thanks to everybody who’s stuck around and read these, I appreciate you all so so much <3 if you want the long version of the thanks go to ao3 lol.

Thank you guys again 💖

Ao3 link

Warnings: brief injury and blood.

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Hyrule had punched Wild in the face.

Time hadn’t seen it happen himself, busy washing clothes with a few of the others, but when the yelling had started and they’d rushed back to camp with their swords drawn, it was blatantly obvious what had happened. Blood was streaming from Wild’s nose, and he and Hyrule both looked furious as Warriors forcibly dragged the two of them apart.

Twilight quickly snagged Wild when he tried to leap forward again, and Sky grabbed Hyrule, the other heroes in camp in varying stages of getting up or in the process of intervening, faces alarmed.

Time frowned, staring at the evidence of the brawl in front of him. More than one punch had obviously been thrown, seeing as Hyrule had a split lip and a shiny eye, Wild with scraped knuckles and a scratched chin that was mostly concealed by the blood running down his face, hair messier than usual. Both of them were further dirty and scuffed and giving each other death glares, and Time lowered his sword as he strode forward.

“And what is going on here?” He demanded, and both boys startled, then resumed their glaring.

“They were arguing about something, I didn’t hear it all,” Warriors admitted when neither of them spoke, crossing his arms.

“It was nothing,” Wild hissed under his breath, and Time raised an eyebrow as more blood dripped from his nose.

“Somehow I doubt that,” Time said flatly, and Wild glared at the ground, Hyrule glaring out at the forest. “What on Farore’s green earth were you two fighting about that was so serious you decided hitting each other was the best course of action?”

Instead of replying, Hyrule finally managed to squirm out of Sky’s grip and bolt into the woods.

“Traveler!” Legend shouted from his place near Time, then growled to himself. “...aaaaand nope he’s gone.”

Wild took their distracted states to also make a break for it, and Time sighed as he disappeared in the opposite direction from Hyrule, both heroes gone in moments.

“Did really nobody hear what started it?” he asked wearily, rubbing a hand over his brow.

“I heard Wild say something about Zelda,” Four spoke up, looking uneasy. “But not much else. I was reading.”

“It seemed like one moment they were just arguing and then the next they were rolling around on the ground at each other’s throats,” Warriors sighed, tapping his fingers on his arm as he spoke. “I apologize. I didn’t realize it had gotten so bad.”

“Well, I’m going after Wild,” Twilight said with a frown, already turning in the direction the champion had gone. “These woods are dangerous, I don’t want him running off alone even if he is mad.”

“I’ll go find our traveler,” Time added, and Legend shrugged, turning back the way they’d come.

“Have fun. I don’t want to untangle that mess. I’ll go get the laundry.”

Time went one way and Twilight went the other, and everyone else mostly went back to what they were doing (with the exception of Legend, who nearly tripped in his haste to get back to the river when he realized their clothes were trying to wash away).

Time followed the faint trail Hyrule had left, the signs of someone passing this way a bit more obvious than they’d normally be. Hyrule really must have been mad if he hadn’t taken the time to be as cautious. Time frowned to himself as he walked, purposely taking his time. He figured he’d give Hyrule some time to cool down, but in the meantime he wondered what it was that had set the two of them off so much.

Wild and Hyrule usually got on like a house on fire, and when they argued, it was usually just in jest. Four had said Zelda had come up, but how had that gotten them to the point of blows? Had that really been the only issue?

Time sighed and shook his head. He wouldn’t know until he found the traveler.

Assuming he’s willing to talk.

A few more minutes of walking went by before Time heard a noise, and he followed it, listening intently. He stepped over a small stream, and found Hyule pacing in an angry little circle around the clearing he’d come upon. His face was red and his eye had further swollen, a little bit of blood still staining his lip, but his cheeks also looked damp from something besides blood. Time stepped forward and Hyrule leveled a glare on him, which turned to a confused look as he realized which hero it was.

Time nodded a greeting, but didn’t do anything else, merely stayed where he was while Hyrule blinked at him. His surprise quickly slipped away, and Hyrule huffed, turning away from him.

“Come to drag me back to camp?” he asked, voice strangely level.

“No, Twilight merely mentioned these woods are dangerous, and it would be unwise to be alone,” Time replied, and Hyrule blinked again, then waved him off, his sour expression easing a bit.

“I’m fine, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“Perhaps, but it’s nice to have backup. Especially if you can’t see very well,” Time said, and Hyrule raised an eyebrow.

“I could say the same of you,” he said as he crossed his arms. “Can you see very well? You may keep the lid closed but I’ve seen you flicker your eye before.”

His tone was sharp, and Time frowned. “We’re not here to talk about me,” Time said firmly, and Hyrule turned away again. Time sighed, and made an effort to soften his voice when he spoke again. “Hyrule, what happened?”

The traveler looked down at the leaf litter, bits of moss and grasses sticking up from between the leaves. He nudged at a fern that was still uncurling, then sighed and kicked at the ground.

“Wild doesn’t get it,” he bit out, not looking at Time. “Doesn’t get our situations were different. He thinks— he thinks Zelda is just—”

Hyrule let out a growl of frustration, raising a hand to wipe at his cheek.

“He doesn’t get it!” Hyrule continued as his hands tightened into fists. “I know she’s not weak, but she’s just a young lady! She can’t fight, and if she tried and she was hurt I’d— I’d never forgive myself, and Wild— why does he— rrrgh!”

Hyrule harshly kicked a rock off into the woods, then sat down on a log with a hard thump.

He went silent, and Time cautiously joined his side, sitting beside him on the log when he made no move to stop him. They didn’t speak for several moments, and Time looked up at the trees, most green, some yellow, a handful already turning to orange and red. A bright blue bird flew past, calling a short song into the air, and its mate answered off in the distance.

Hyrule sighed, and his shoulders abruptly slumped.

“I don’t know why I hit him,” Hyrule whispered. “We’ve... it was a stupid argument. Things have just been so tense since Twi...”

He shook his head and stared at the ground, and Time slowly breathed out.

It was true. Their entire group had been on edge since Twilight’s brush with death, and apparently the tension was still as strong as ever despite his recovery. Enough to make two heroes that normally got on better than most of them to exchange blows.

Over Zelda of all things.

“I would bet that the champion feels similarly,” Time said quietly, Hyrule still staring at the ground. “You may have hit him, but it’s quite obvious he hit you back, and I doubt he meant to go so far either.”

“Maybe. We were really going at it,” Hyrule mumbled, wiping more blood off his chin. “I don’t know what came over me. He was being stupid, and I just couldn’t... ugh.”

Hyrule slumped further over, and kicked at the leaves with his boot.

“Do you think he hates me?” he said, so quietly Time barely heard it.

Time sighed, then made sure Hyrule was looking when he shook his head “No. Our champion has been hit by a lot worse than a punch. I doubt he’ll hate you for a broken nose,” Time reassured, and Hyrule’s eyes went wide.

“Did I really break his nose?!”

“It... looked that way,” Time admitted, and guilt rushed across Hyrule’s swelling face. “We have plenty of potions, traveler, I’m sure there’s no permanent harm done.”

Hyrule looked away from him and nodded, though he still looked guilty. He suddenly sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, a strange mixture of emotions on his face.

“I hate this. I hate the shadow,” he whispered. “If it wasn’t for him— I hate that Twilight almost died. If my spell hadn’t worked— it almost didn’t— he...”

His voice died, and Hyrule swallowed as Time’s stomach lurched unpleasantly.

He’d been trying not to dwell on that night, but memories suddenly flooded his brain without his permission. Hyrule pushing and pushing and passing out from sheer exhaustion, Twilight pale as the moon outside as he clung weakly to life, Time staying up to watch the both of them as he weighed his ocarina in his hand, his eye fixed on Twilight’s chest, heart skipping a beat every time his breath hitched.

It had been days now, but the anxiety was still there, and Time hadn’t realized just how much it had been affecting everyone else.

“Traveler, you did admirably,” Time said in a quiet voice, setting a hand on his arm. “Despite everything you managed to heal him, which was more than any of the rest of us could do. You saved Twilight’s life. And you have my eternal thanks for that.”

Hyrule’s face turned red for a reason besides injury, and he looked away as Time squeezed his shoulder.

“But Twilight isn’t the issue at the moment,” Time continued, setting aside his turbulent thoughts. “You and Wild are. Your arguing is none of my business, but coming to blows is a real issue.”

“He deserved it,” Hyrule said viciously, then wilted, sighing. “I know. I should... probably apologize.”

“That seems wise,” Time agreed with a smile, and offered a hand to Hyrule. “Shall we head back?”

Hyrule hesitated, and Time saw something flash in his gaze. “Maybe not... just yet,” he mumbled, and Time nodded.

“That sounds fine. We should probably give him time to cool off further anyway. Our champion has quite the temper."

"He's not the only one, Hyrule admitted with a tiny smile.

Time and Hyrule spent a good hour just sitting there, listening to the woods and the tiny creek, not really talking much at all. Hyrule didn’t heal himself or take the potion Time offered, but Time didn’t press it. If he couldn’t convince him to heal himself now, he was sure Legend or the captain could. Maybe even Wild, once they made up.

Which Time was confident would happen.

They'd better.

Right as the sun began to sink behind the tree trunks, Hyrule raised his head and stood, exhaling slowly. Time stood up as well, and they wordlessly headed back to camp, Hyrule staying quiet.

The walk seemed much shorter on the way back, and it wasn’t long before they broke through the trees of the clearing where they’d set up, six gazes flickering their way, a seventh staring at the ground. The silence stretched, and Wind quickly resumed the conversation he’d paused when Time and Hyrule had appeared, which made everyone get back to what they’d been doing as well.

Time couldn’t help studying Wild as everyone pretended things were normal, and he sighed.

Wild’s nose had obviously been taken care of, the blood cleaned from his face, but his chin had a bandage on it, and his nose looked a little red. He was crouched by the fire, ignoring Hyrule, and stirring some kind of soup that Time had smelled long before they’d arrived. Twilight was sitting beside him, cutting off slices of warm bread, and Time gently clapped Hyrule on the shoulder before he went to go sit down.

Hyrule’s jaw worked for a moment as he stood in the middle of camp, and then he slowly walked over to Wild and Twilight, his hands fidgeting at his sides.

“Do you... need any help?” he asked, and though Wild didn’t react, Twilight looked up, smiling at him.

“Here, you can finish slicing this,” he offered, handing Hyrule the bread and the knife. “You’ll probably get the pieces more even than me anyway.”

Hyrule hesitantly took them, and Twilight scooted over, making room for Hyrule between him and Wild. Hyrule to his credit didn’t hesitate, sitting down without another word, though he left plenty of room between him and the champion.

Time watched them from his place beside Warriors, and the captain watched the two of them intently, obviously ready to get up at the slightest show of aggression. But Wild and Hyrule, despite only being a foot apart, were very effectively pretending the other wasn’t there, Wild sprinkling salt in his soup, Hyrule methodically slicing bread.

Time watched Wild cook, the champion firmly keeping his head turned away from Hyrule, and he raised an eyebrow as he realized what kind of soup he was making. Hyrule’s gaze flickered to the pot as Wild tossed in some herbs, and he blinked, obviously realizing what Time just had.

Wild had made Hyrule’s favorite.

Hyrule swallowed, and he set the bread down onto a cloth, finished slicing it up.

“I’m sorry,” he said, so quietly Time barely made it out. Wild paused in his stirring, his hood effectively hiding his expression from the angle Time was sitting, and Wind’s laugh at something Sky said felt out of place.

Wild slowly leaned over, taking something out of his pouch, and he carefully ladled hot soup into the bowl he’d grabbed.

Then he offered it to Hyrule.

Hyrule blinked, Twilight stilled beside him, and Time and Warriors watched in silence as he stared at the steam rising slowly from the bowl.

“Me too,” Wild whispered, his expression somehow miserable and awkward and exhausted all at the same time.

Hyrule gave him a wobbly smile and accepted the bowl, and though neither of them said anything further, it was like a fog had lifted off of their group. The mood instantly seemed to get lighter, and Warriors gave Time a relieved look.

Time returned it, and watched with a smile as Wild scooted closer to Hyrule, and the two began passing out food to everyone. They began quietly talking, and Time's smile grew as Hyrule blushed, and Wild grinned at something, tapping his nose.

Time stood up and got his own bowl, and watched the two of them carrying on like nothing had happened at all. Hyrule shot him a small smile as he walked over, and Time sat down beside Twilight, returning it as he casually slung an arm around his descendant.

Twilight leaned against him a little, and Time took a sip of soup, the warmth it sent to his stomach nothing compared to the warmth all around him.

[flowerakatsuka]

" just know that i'm always here for you, okay? "

i'm finally finishing up my s2 rewatch and getting to the 24th episode awoke a beast in me. so i wanted to make a fake screenshot based on some of their lore that takes place during that episode. i think they'd end up having a heart-to-heart moment since kuroba went through similar struggles after their grandfather's own hospitalization...

also have a bonus doodle bc i need to even out the balance between serious & goofy with these two.

[pokimoko]

Here's a completely normal, totally wholesome Gravity Falls fanart that definitely isn't for my fanfic where bad things happen to these poor kids. They're absolutely fine, I promise. :)

[starbuck]

Ravenous is Haunted

Within the lore of Ravenous, eating people causes you to “absorb [their] spirit,” but what does that mean in practice?

Ives mentions that eating someone brave gives you a surge of bravery, which is exactly how Boyd goes from too scared to move to single-handedly capturing the enemy command. The spirit of his fellow soldiers and specifically his commanding officer compel him to do it. But we know that this personality shift is not permanent, it abates. However, I believe that there are other more subtle influences that remain. 

There’s a whole collection of things Boyd, Ives, and Hart do and say that mirror the actions and words of the people they’ve eaten…

The protectiveness that Boyd shows towards the Fort Spencer crew after Ives arrives as colonel is a new trait for him and highly reminiscent of Reich’s protectiveness towards Toffler. From the moment he’s stuck with Ives at the fort, Boyd also immediately decides to murder him, the thing that Reich died furious at him for not doing, and never strays from this mission at all. Boyd and Ives both headbutt each other in their final fight, a Knox fighting move, and Boyd also attempts to strangle Ives at one point, which is Reich’s. Another example that I like is when Hart says to the chickens he’s feeding “run away! run for your lives!” which is what Toffler died doing. These are all small moments in isolation, but together they form a compelling picture. 

For another thing, you have Boyd mentioning to Hart near the end the “nightmares” he’s “still” having about Reich, Cleaves, and Knox. These aren’t just random trauma nightmares, they are specifically about the three people of the Fort Spencer crew that he’s eaten. And, considering how strongly Hart reacts to the mention of this, he is likely experiencing the same thing. Since it is canon that they have actually ABSORBED these people by eating them, I don’t think it’s a stretch at all to call this a haunting. 

Put these together and you have the people who have been eaten haunting the cannibal characters at night and maintaining at least some sway over them by day, often without them even realizing it… Fun stuff!

As far as Ives goes, I think that he is less affected by this phenomenon than Boyd and Hart are. He’s been eating people for much longer than they have, he has no moral compass whatsoever, and he has a very strong personality, so he’s not gonna let a little haunting get to him. That being said, who knows what quirks of his personality we might be able to attribute to people he’s eaten in the past if we knew more about them? I also think that his assumption that he is unaffected by the people he eats is a part of his downfall, and I’ll explain that in a moment. 

The last thing I want to talk about is the bell because that’s what REALLY gets me mmmmmmmmmmm… SO! During Boyd’s fight with Ives, there’s a moment where Ives has fled the room they were fighting in and Boyd doesn’t know where he is, so he’s checking behind all these random doors and not finding him when he hears a bell ringing in the courtyard. He goes out and sees the ringing bell but no one near it. Instead of going towards it where he knows Ives is likely waiting for him though, he walks towards the barn, as if in a daze. When he enters, he sees the bear trap and gets an “Aha!” look on his face. 

Now, who do we know who is associated with both that bell and a bear trap? It’s Reich! He is the only person we ever see ring that bell and (in a deleted scene) he uses bear traps as target practice, shooting at them to snap them shut while Boyd watches. So, at the very least, we can say that Reich indirectly inspires Boyd in that course of action. 

BUT, because I am me, I’d like to take it a step further by proposing that, since Reich is haunting both Boyd AND Ives, he influences Ives to ring the bell (with Ives not consciously thinking anything more of about than “this will surely get Boyd’s attention >:)”) and then influences Boyd to walk over to the barn instead of immediately continuing the fight so he can show him how to end it once and for all. Boyd asked Reich to “tell me what to do,” and Reich answered him!

I did also write a fic about this concept a few years ago if anyone is interested!

[wikiangela]

seven sentence sunday

I wasn't gonna post anything from this one bc it's so close to being done I might just post it within a day or two (no promises tho lol) but I'm loving it so much and I can't resist posting a snippet haha

so here's a bit of my 7x06 tommy's pov fic!

___

(...) “my sister finally married the love of her life,” a kiss to Tommy’s chin, then another, and one more, and Tommy laughs again. “And I,” Evan grins against Tommy’s lips as he kisses him again, “I have a really hot date to her wedding.”

“Yeah, straight out of a fire.” Tommy smirks and bumps their noses together, and Evan laughs, Tommy drinking in the adorable sound. It all feels- it feels intimate, familiar, more than it should be at this stage.

“Mhm, even hotter now.” he leaves one more kiss on Tommy’s lips. “And I’m just- I’m really happy you’re here, Tommy.” Evan pulls away, this time enough to look into Tommy’s eyes, his own shining excitedly, face softening, as he whispers, with something like awe in his voice, “You made it.”

“Of course.” Tommy answers earnestly, feeling a fond smile pull at his own lips, his chest swelling at the look Evan gives him, something so affectionate and wonderstruck – he doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him like this. It could be overwhelming, if he didn’t feel the exact same way. “We had a date.”

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @bidisasterevankinard @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie @your-catfish-friend @daffi-990 @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @tizniz @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie @spotsandsocks @exhuastedpigeon @underwaterninja13

[lyliah7]

Leaving a comment makes me fucking anxious and for some (stupid) reason I always feel guilty leaving a short comment so I often just skip commenting. But you know what? @justleaveacommentfest motivated me to get over that and it feels so fucking good to leave comments on fics I enjoy. So far I've posted, I think, 3 comments today? Which, sure, isn't a lot, but for me it's huge and it's stressing me out but I will keep doing it because authors fucking deserve it

Thank you fanfic authors for sharing your work with us and making us smile (or cry) with your works 🤍

[thekittyokat]

Hi! Please please please, could you tell me more about your coffin chain ideas?/nf

I am obsessed but barely anybody has jumped onto the ship yet and I am VERY new to the fandom so I wanna wait with making it myself until I know more lol. You are lowkey fueling this entire operations and I wanna thank you for that either way.

(rubs my paws together) you have no idea what you've unleashed anon i've been holding onto this ask specifically bc i've been sapping dopamine from it like a little leech waiting until i had time to hastily doodle up a little dynamics timeline for different stages of the ot4

i REALLY hope this makes sense . i feel the need to say this every time i post abt coffinchain but my ideas are rly specific and i've had time for them to infect my brain like mold so i'm defo ready to accept this all being rly niche and really just for me and like 3 other people

buuut if this little peek into my mind speaks to ANY of y'all i absolutely encourage implore and beg you to send me asks and ideas and whatnot about these 4 bastards literally whenever you want!!

TL;DR one half of the trauma bonded couple reaches out and forms an immediate kinship with the big scary guy that no one likes & convinces his petty boyfriend to let him fw them. then he starts bringing his deranged fbi otter around they start double-dating only for it to become a situationship and then the worst polycule ever

[teshiee]

stress doodlleleee hello mr jay ! ! walker

[myokk]

autumn🫶

[mrnnki-img]

wavage...