#hws hero! au

[houseofheroesau]

How eloquent, Captain.

Don't tag as LU, please.

[nell0-0]

Hyrule Warriors but instead of the lil' hero of time there's the hero shade :)

[clowns0up-felix]

Going full brainrot about your Links on a roadtrip... thinking about pitstops, getting stuck in traffic, car malfunctions, weird roadside attractions, playing games to pass the time... oh the to be in a car with the sillies

Sorry this took me a bit to answer bc I was originally draw more but I lost my steam so it was just sitting in my drafts for days,,, I didn’t draw anything u we’re talking about I’m sorry 😭 hope it’s not a crazy letdown

I might draw more in the future bc I DID have some fun visions,,, like playing games thatre themed after their games, Ravio running a souvenir shop with overpriced stuff,, them going camping and botw link being great at providing food out in the wild,,,,,, what if they stop at a beach and sailor and bunny show mc link how to build a giant sand castle,,, I dunno

[biathelstan]

“oh, you want to talk to me?”

[liccy]

For the WIP ask game, curious about artblockrr or bigbro 👀

Let's do bigbro!

This was more a self gratification draw. It's niche, but I didn't want to stop drawing more baby!FaeRule. Someone commented how they wanted to give the sprite new clothes, and I thought... who's the best to dress up little fairies? Wars! Plus, you can totally get Loz1's original outfit as a fairy costume in the game! (At least in Definitive Edition). It was perfect.... except I completely forgot what I wanted to do on the bottom half, and it just stayed buried in my files. But never forgotten in my heart.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

If the prompt event is still going on, Ganondad with Power and Warriors?

It had been a… very long and insane week.

Link was still trying to wrap his head around this delusion he’d somehow ended up in. Because it had to be, right? He’d tried attacking Ganondorf the instant he’d recognized him, he’d fought the woman who claimed to be Zelda but absolutely wasn’t, as well as… well, once he’d seen the Master Sword in someone else’s hands, he’d known that somehow, he was in some nightmare.

Perhaps this is hell, he mused. It seems way too nice, though.

No, it couldn’t be that. He was fairly certain he didn’t actually die from the wound, since Ganondorf himself had been treating him like he’d break at any moment. It was… extremely unnerving.

Or, well, it had been. He was finally accepting that he needed to calm down and observe the situation. He’d already tried to kill the demon at least seven times, including getting himself injured in the process. Ganondorf had only fought enough to defend himself, never actually counterattacking, and it just…

He didn’t know. He didn’t know.

In either case, ever since he’d settled into silence and just acquiescing to everything, life had improved significantly. The new wielder of the Master Sword, also named Link (he tended to just call him Captain, while Link called him King, which he… was not a fan of, but he wouldn’t argue the point), was kind and helpful, roughly around his age but taking on a seemingly older brother role.

It… Link didn’t know what to make of any of it. Sometimes he went along, but sometimes he pushed back. He figured he’d just wake up at some point and find that perhaps he’d hallucinated while he was slowly dying from his neck wound.

But in the meantime, he and the Captain were at the beach, and Ganondorf was eying the sea warily. Link almost laughed from it.

“You two should stay in the shade more,” Ganondorf noted, watching the waves. “Especially you, little prince.”

Link watched him in silence, and then came to a conclusion. He really shouldn’t be rude to the other Hero, but sometimes being babied made him bite back in quiet ways. This entire situation was too weird. But today, with the ocean gently lapping at their heels, he found himself actually relaxed for once.

And, perhaps, a little mischievous.

Link smiled at Captain. It was subtle, just one corner of his lips, but the newer Hero had learned to read his cues, eyes narrowing. Link supposed he had caused enough problems for him that he’d pick up on it. The captain raised an eyebrow, and then he watched as Link sat on the sand, head in his hands.

As predicted, based on the former king’s recent behavior, Ganondorf rose and started heading his way. The captain knelt down beside him.

“What are you up to, King?” He whispered, a hint of amusement making his voice tremble like he was holding back a laugh.

Link glanced up at him from under the hair that covered his face, and simply continued to smile.

Ganondorf reached them both quickly. “What’s wrong?”

Link moaned pathetically, leaning against the captain. Captain held him a little, before looking up at their guardian. “Maybe you should take a look at him.”

Ha! So he did catch on.

Ganondorf bent over, reaching gently towards Link, and he sprang his trap, grabbing the larger man by his wrists and yanking him towards him. He planted his foot firmly in Ganondorf’s chest, rolling and kicking him directly into the ocean.

Captain watched, surprised, before laughing. It was clear Ganondorf wasn’t hurt, just spluttering. Link stood, rubbing sand off his trousers.

He wouldn’t fight the man anymore, but he could still get his jabs in.

Captain elbowed him with a good natured laugh. “You know, perhaps we should team up against him.”

Ganondor rose out of the waves, looking like a drenched cat, face sour. It was clear he was biting back annoyance as he marched towards the pair.

“He does deserve a good kick every once in a while,” Captain continued thoughtfully. “Though… he does care for you, you know.”

Link glanced at him, distracted at the thought. Ganondorf didn’t care. If he had he wouldn’t have tortured him during the war and tried to kill him multiple times. He didn’t even love his own children - how could he even care about Link?

Link didn’t notice the attack, contemplating the captain’s words, until large hands grabbed him under his arms. He yelped as Captain laughed, having succeeded in keeping him preoccupied, while Ganondorf dove back into the sea with Link held hostage in his arms.

The young Hero tried to ignore the way Ganondorf smiled, how it reminded him of the fun they’d had in the Festival of Colors, but he really couldn’t. And, perhaps, for just that afternoon, he actually believed the captain’s words as they all played in the waves.

He’d definitely get Captain back, though.

[phoenix-arts7]

A while ago, for shits and giggles I drew Warrior meeting a tennis ball face to face and it's still funny years later.

Don't tag as LU, please.

[coralcatsea]

The Long-Lost Hylian Champion

@usukweek

Prompt: Video Games

Monster hunter Arthur scales the Great Plateau and finds a mysterious Hylian sitting in a tree surrounded by bokoblins.

With a special bow and arrows he was given by his adoptive Rito family, Arthur takes out the bokoblins, then collects their parts to use later. But what will he do with the mysterious Hylian? He's all alone and seems to have lost his memories...perhaps Arthur should take him along, at least for now. He knows what it's like to be left to fend for oneself.

(Background taken from the game).

Part 1

[kheprriverse]

Y’all thinking about an older Ares has RUINED me

[wickedwanchii]

I haven't watched or interacted with MHA in literal years, but my friends put the worm in my head of Alfred as Hawks and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since

Anyways this is as close to an anime style I will ever truly get so I call this Good Enough

[sleepyy-27]

Hero meets heroes

Chapter 1 the portals

Prev|next

So like I’ve totally not been putting this off for months totally.

[houseofheroesau]

Just two brothers living for the chaos and confusing people

Source: this post

Don't tag as LU, please.

[oumaheroes]

Got any spooky local folklore and stories?

Not local to me (though there are a good few I could tell), but have this strange tale instead

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

The Teacher

There is a ghost past the schoolyard.

Over there, past the field to where the trees touch the iron railing on the other side. Do you see? By the forked one with the crack. In and out between the trees he walks, to sit or stand a while alone. He’s always been there, for years and years and years. Everybody knows. Pale skin, pale hair, and blood red eyes- all life sucked out of him. It’s true! You must know him, Sir, you must. You’ve been here before, haven’t you? You were a student here too, Miss says, back when you were young.

He was. And the teacher can remember the story of the ghost behind the playing fields, one who walked there a few days every year to sit in silence amongst the trees. There is a little bench on the other side of the school’s railings, old and rusty as if left behind to guard a forgotten track, and the ghost would come and haunt the grounds a few times in October, every year since the beginning of time.

Maybe he was there more often, in the summer when the leaves hide the shape of him amongst the green, but he was always gone by the time the last of them fell, leaving only the old bench and the muddy floor of the forest. Or, perhaps he only appeared when the spirits grew in strength as the summer died, old year peeling away to reveal the world of the beyond.

This is only a story. One passed from year group to year group, new students taken by the shoulders and made to stand at cool railings, five years old and dreading to spot the dead man emerge from the trees. Children said he died there, waiting for a lost love. That she betrayed him to her secret lover, who shot him from behind as he waited to meet her. He’d kill you, if you looked him in the eye. Drop dead from fright.

If you listen, Sir! If you listen you can hear the shot. I swear it, and Ada says that she saw blood last year on the leaves. Gone in a blink but she swears-

The teacher enjoys these stories. He is pleased that after twenty years that it prevails, almost entirely unchanged. He remembers some encounters that now come back to him, stood as he is in his new-old classroom on the first weekend of October. His brother swore blind that he saw the man once, a flash of white before vanishing when he looked. Several of his classmates had a similar experience, a noise of twigs snapping when no one was near, the smell of gun smoke and unseen cookfires that left as suddenly as they came.

The teacher has no stories of his own. He had been too scared to get close to see when he was a student, staying well in the safety of the school field as his classmates screamed and ran from the edges, daring each other to get close, closer.

He wonders how old these stories are. Every school has something of the like, he knows- girl dead in the toilets, boy thrown from the roof. Sad and lost children, furious at their lot and stuck forever to watch the life they left behind. But this one, the teacher thinks, is unusual. The details still so solid and exactly the same as what he remembers.

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ The librarian, the same as was here when the teacher was a boy, takes a sip of her coffee and blinks at him behind thick glasses, ‘The whole time I’ve worked here, I think. Unsettled me, at first. Thought it morbid.’

‘And now?’

She chuckles, ‘Now, I’m fond of it. It’s nice that it hasn’t changed. Traditions passed by children are special, I think. Don’t you?’

Stop.

Wait.

What is that, by that tree? A movement, quick between tree trunks. Hold still, listen a moment. Is that not the snap of a twig, the rustle of something move?

Perhaps, after all, there is something past the schoolyard.

The teacher spots it, one day, taking a walk around the edges of the field. Too many papers, too much marking… and it’s nice to be outside. The sun is out today, the autumn leaves orange and red fires in their branches or in drips and splotches along the ground but there… what was that. A glimpse of white amongst brown. Could it be?

Don’t be foolish. Go and look.

How many years has it been, the teacher thinks to himself, as his heart beats faster close by the railings. A too fast trip ta-tum ta-tum, a marching drum as he nears. Caution grips his stomach, a flutter of a warning. Silly children’s stories, silly exaggerations and games, he is too grown up for this. But stories long held and passed down hold truth, don’t they? Isn’t there something true, in every tale that is told? Something that makes it important to be kept, something that demands it be remembered?

Closer, closer. One step, two.

The teacher has never been this close before.

On the edges of the schoolyard, almost beyond the shouts of playing children where the trees touch the railings, there is a bench. It is warped, rusted by wind and rain and time. It sits alongst the branches and the roots, a forgotten rest stop in the thickness of the forest. And by the bench, stands a man.

He is a normal man. Average height, average build. Maybe a little too slim, coat too loose about the chest, but there is a body to fill it. He swings his head around as the teacher approaches, a polite nod in greeting that the teacher does not- forgets to- return. The man’s eyes are red, his hair is white, and hundreds of old stories murmur in the teacher’s head at once like whispers.

‘Can I help you?’ The man speaks, awkward silence between them gone on for too long, and the teacher finds his senses return. This ghost has a voice, and a body. He is a man, after all.

But… but.

‘Hello.’ The teacher steps closer to the stranger. ‘Are you lost?’

‘Lost?’ The man scoffs, as if offended. ‘Nah. Just on a walk.’

‘This is a school.’ The teacher says, patting the railings that separate them, ‘You are scaring the children.’

The man raises his eyebrow, disbelief and scorn all over his face, ‘The children?’

Swallow, breathe. A shout of young voices on the wind. ‘Yes.’

‘Huh.’ The man turns away and looks out through the forest. ‘I’ve been coming here for years and not had trouble before.’

The teacher goes to respond but the stranger scuffs the mud underfoot with the toe of one boot and the teacher finds himself silenced.

‘There used to be a road here. A single horse track through the woods.’ The stranger lays a hand upon the bench, wide hand light on the metal back, ‘The Prussian army camped here once and left this behind. Wouldn’t know that now, would you?’

Muddy ground, thick trees. Where had this man come from? The teacher shakes his head, ‘No, I wouldn’t.’

‘Not on any maps anymore. Used to be. Then they built the manor-‘ a head jerk towards where the school now sits, directed to something missing, ‘and everything shifted east. Then, this became the edge; the last bit.’

The edge? Of town, yes, but that felt like there was more there, underneath and between the man’s words. The teacher opens his mouth, closes it. Then, ‘My family lived there.’

The man turns back to him, bright eyes and a knowing smile, ‘Yeah?’

Why had he said that? The teacher didn’t mean to say that, he had meant to sa- ‘Yes. My great great grandfather was born in the gatehouse. They worked for the family.’

The man snorts. He knew that already, the teacher thinks, he knew that. He knows me too, somehow, something in his face gives it away. The normalcy of family, shared blood and kin amongst strangers.

‘Well, all gone now.’ Red eyes, white hair. Broad shoulders pulled back and straight naturally- a soldier’s stance. There could almost be a sword at his side, and if the coat were not there the teacher could believe that there was. The man nods at him, sober- ‘Nice to meet you’- and the teacher knows that he is dismissed.

Where is he going? Why is he walking away? But he is, the teacher finds that he is walking. Back across the field, back to the school- sat atop the ruined foundations of a manor house that hardly anyone remembers was once there. A general built it, some documents say, a young man who was rewarded for his efforts in helping Prussia to greatness and it fell when the Russians came.

How strange, the teacher thinks to himself as the hours tick by, how odd. His shoes are muddy and he knows he walked during lunch, but the route… where did he go? Who did he speak to? Did he speak at all; he thinks that he did. He has memory of words there, in his mind, but he can’t quite hold onto them. It is like his mind shies away, refusing to acknowledge something he isn’t supposed to know. There is the taste of something in his mouth, something metallic and sharp, and it lingers there until the night like soot.

Sir, sir! Look, did you see-?

No. No, he did not.

[smilesrobotlover]

Ok so y’all remember that au I was talking about? This probably already exists but no matter, I wanted to play with a Hyrule warriors au where instead of the different characters from other Zelda games are brought in through time magic, they were already there existing in that world. Like they’re separate characters from the already existing ones if that makes sense. Now Fi and Ghirahim are exceptions and Ganondorf may be one too idk yet but everyone else are completely new and different characters. The design changes aren’t anything special (I do adore t Ghirahim’s red gloves and boots tho) their characters are a bit different. Like Zant is much younger and was really close with Midna, while Yuga is… idk what he’s doing but he was some royal advisor for Hilda cuz all villains do be like that lol. Idk if I’m even explaining this right but that’s the best way I can explain this fjdkdbkenk. I mostly wanted to draw Ghirahim yuga and zant cuz they’re my favorite trio ever but yeeee!

I might ramble about the new story some other time but this is meant to be more lighthearted and what ever, all the different links are now all brothers and same thing with the different Zelda’s, there’s like a million different plots going on and it’s crazy and I love it

Also why are they all chibi? Idk. I wanted to do it. Just sh

[hetaliafucker]

You Either Die A Hero Update

UsUk/UkUs - Hero x Villain AU. Hero Arthur, Villain Alfred. Enemies to lovers, slowburn, with a pinch of coffee shop AU. Served with a side of PruCan.

[linkedspirit-fanartfunart]

Challenge of the day, where I force yall to theorize about things I already planned out. And since I've had a few minor things featuring HW Link now: