#it's going to be a wild month for fics

[optiwashere]

It's been a while since I've sat down and looked at it, but my core Asheera/Shadowheart series is now over 250,000 words long. That's not even all of it, either. When the hell did that happen? The past year and a half of exploring the girls has been wild, and I can't wait to write even more fluff, angst, and smut.

I mean... come on, look at them! They're fucking adorable. Don't you want to read about a half-orc paladin/lesbian multiclass and her beloved cleric?

Art of Asheera/Shadowheart by @/ geezmarty

[chronologically-challenged]

I think that the party's communication issues can be summed up as "man, is it awkward to tell someone that you want to spend the rest of your life with them if you've only know them for a few months? Probably."

[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.

[myreia]

— vi. the last

They stay. They go. Ebbs and flows, as certain as the tide that will take his ship to sea. Their responsibilities take them in different directions. This is the way it has always been, and in truth, they prefer it. Independent to a fault, wanderers in answer to different calls. But the time apart makes the time together all the more sweeter. Goodbye for now does not mean goodbye forever.   Till next we meet.

[kaythefloppa]

The struggles of being a Lion King fan and a Wild Kratts fan witnessing major fandom events happening on the same day is a living struggle.

[the-au-collector]

I can't get over the tonal shift in this fic I'm writing

I just spent about 3 chapters with Wild living his best life and now we go back to Warriors being super depressed and dealing with family issues and being on the verge of a mental breakdown. He's not having a good time.

And Wild is there like 🙂 (he knew everything was not fine for Wars)

[yujeong]

Time was at a standstill. Vegas was holding his breath without noticing, and continued to hold it when he did - he was afraid of what would happen if he exhaled loudly enough to draw attention to himself. His gaze was shifting between Pete and the man who was standing before them in the doorway, blocking their entrance. Vegas had never seen him before, but even so, he recognized Pete in him enough to know who he was. A dangerous aura surrounded him. There was an edge to his presence that Vegas would only come across people of certain circles. He was a fighter. A muay khao. Pete's father. Shame coursed through Vegas' body, smearing his skin, settling in his lungs, rendering him speechless. I thought he was dead, he wanted to tell Pete if he could. He wanted to scream at him, I thought you killed him. Pete was the one who broke the stillness. As if awakened by something, he took a half-step back and made a motion with his arms, almost raising them to his chest, but not quite. In an instant, Pete reverted into the pet Vegas had been keeping at the safehouse, bound by handcuffs and afraid of his belt hitting flesh and drawing blood. A lump formed in Vegas' throat. "Have you stopped practicing? Your form is off." The uncanny similarities between Pete and his father appearance-wise didn't mean a thing when it came to their voices. Vegas shivered. Was this what Pete would sound like in a few decades? (Were these the condescending words he'd choose to spew? Was Pete going to embody his father? Was Vegas embodying his?) "What are you doing here?" Pete whispered. "They let me out for a few days, so I came here to collect some money. Imagine my surprise when I found out my offspring left the job someone found him worthy enough of doing to... do what exactly? Yaai didn't want to tell me." He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. Vegas didn't know what he was allowed to say. If he was allowed to say anything at all. "It's none of your business." "I'd say it very much is my business, as well as yaai's business who was dependent on the money you were making being some rich asshole's human shield." A choked sound scratched Vegas' throat. He didn't like getting reminded of Pete being the main family's bodyguard, even though he stopped being one mere months ago. Especially like this. That was the first time Pete's father stopped looking at his son and turned his head to look at Vegas. For a moment, there seemed to be recognition in his eyes. Did he know who Vegas was? Did he care? A snort came out of his mouth. He leaned on the door. "Oh, I see how it is." He laughed, scratched his neck. "I never expected you to whore yourself out for money. Tell me, is it preferable to the path I carved out for you?" Vegas could sense the disgust in his voice. He could also see it on Pete's face. He was too astonished to share it, but not enough to be unable to speak. "Khun, there has been some misunderstanding-" "Don't bother. I can recognize a faggot when I see one." Pete's movements were too fast for Vegas to stop him. A direct jab to the nose; his father fell like a pack of cards, groaning like a wounded animal. Surprisingly, no blood - Pete held back. Vegas didn't know what to think about that. "That was a pathetic attack, even for you." "Get up." "We're not in the ring, son." Pete growled. Vegas could see his hands trembling as he was keeping them in the air, maintaining an offensive stance. "That never stopped you before." "You were too young to understand what I was doing back then. What I was preparing you for." Pete was silent. "The world isn't kind. It'll fuck you over one way or another." He got up, spat on the ground. "You still haven't learned a thing. You're too old to afford being naive." He turned around, and without sparing a look at Pete again, said: "Now get the fuck out of my house." (For @musictooth, whose posts about Pete's father have reignited my passion for this specific concept and for @wretchedamaranth, whose comments on my writing are always lovely and precious ❤️)

[canarydarity]

(haha happy new year! Heres 6K words of DL ranchers fighting 🤩 [ao3]) dull&slow

There was no feeling like a respawn; it was like jumping off of a building with nothing below to catch you, only to discover you had in fact been fastened into a harness when the bungee cord snapped taut. Except, it also wasn’t like that at all, because the mechanics of respawning—regardless of permanence—did nothing to curb the feeling of death, the actual sensation of dying. All it really did was remove the relief that one might experience had death been final, for what is death but a merciful release from pain? 

Jimmy imagined that there were few things that could even begin to feel like what a respawn did—the simultaneous cracking of all your joints at once in a manner akin to a human glow stick; ice cream that had been left out on the counter to melt but was then shoved back into the freezer again after only making it to that indescribably viscous stage between solid and liquid; a jam in a paper shredder—the kind where half of the page is relieved and sticking out of the top, completely intact and fine, while the rest is in ribbons below, still warm to the touch at the recent dismemberment. 

And that was only the physical aspect—the violent draw of your subconscious from the brink of death to perfect health mid-panic was something else entirely. It never got any easier, no matter how many times he did it (and Jimmy did it a lot). 

This was their second respawn, but it was different in the way that it happened unlike it did the first time: together. It was new but not unexpected to shoot up in bed at the ranch, cows mooing to his left and moonlight peaking through the window to his right. Jimmy heaved some breaths in and out; logically, he knew he was fine, but his body remembered the vertigo of falling. 

Tango was next to him, still lying back in their small bed staring at the ceiling. 

For a few beats, they were quiet, they caught their breath. The buzz of the cicadas outside was heavy in a way, droning alongside the cacophony of cows and the muted clucks of chickens from below ground. 

When his eyes began to itch and dry out from staring at nothing and his heaving sounded more like huffing, Jimmy broke the silence first. 

“I was leanin’ over the edge…why was I leaning over the edge?” His words were incredulous and barely there, only formed enough to actually get them out of his mouth but not any further. Had Tango not been right next to him, he probably wouldn’t have heard. 

Tango sat up, “Jim, hey–hey!” One of Tango’s hands reached behind Jimmy and settled on his shoulder, the other moved across himself to settle on Jimmy’s arm. “It’s okay! It’s only our second life, it was bound to happen sooner or la—”

Jimmy blinked out of his daze to realize Tango was soothing him; It was not shocking in the way it hadn’t happened before—it had actually, in fact, happened quite often—but in the way it was happening now. the combination of noises pushing in all around the ranch, having just lived through dying, again, and Tango’s warmth that he would’ve appreciated any other time, made it all immediately too much. Tango was soothing him—Tango misunderstood. 

It was instinct to throw Tango’s arm off of him, to scatter, to stand and create distance, and had Jimmy been in the right state of mind he would’ve explained that and apologized, but Tango’s shocked offense was the last thing he was focusing on. 

“No, you—why was I leaning over the edge?” 

It was the only thought that had run through his head since he’d woken up and stopped feeling like an egg mid-scramble. Not worry about being on red life, not concern about having been the one to return the favor of killing Tango this time, not upset that things were shaping up like they always did. 

Tango wasn’t necessarily wrong to assume that that’s where Jimmy’s thoughts had gone, as that’s usually where they would have. But this was not Jimmy when he was anxious, when he was guilty; This was Jimmy when he was mad.

He was pacing, but he wasn’t aware when it had started. He was just—he couldn’t stop thinking about fish. Or—no, not fish, parasites; there was this parasite he’d heard about that matures in the eye of a fish but reproduces in the belly of a bird. Jimmy had heard this and thought what a stupid, impossible thing—and he’d thought he had shit luck.  

That was until he’d heard the rest. Under control of the parasite, infected fish swim closer and closer to the surface of the water, leading it to be spotted and picked up by a bird; the parasite ends up where it needed to be all along, and that damned stupid fish is what gets it there. It doesn’t know what it’s doing, it’s not choosing to swim near the surface—by that point, the parasite is choosing for it—but it’s still— 

It just—

The fish gets itself eaten, essentially. The scariest part, Jimmy thought, was that he wasn’t sure the fish even knew. Was it aware it had been infected? Or was it swimming up and up and up and thinking what the fuck am I doing? Was it resting precariously below the surface, watching in fear as the birds circle, knowing all it had to do to avoid being eaten was swim the fuck back down, but for some reason, it just couldn’t?

Jimmy just—why was he leaning over the edge? His hands were wrapped around his stomach, griping his sides, hard. His teeth were grinding together, or he was biting his lip, or he was mumbling nonsense that even he didn’t know what meant. 

The floorboards of the ranch creaked and groaned with his pacing, and Tango remained watching from the bed, his face still painted in confusion. 

A noise—something caught between a whine and a grumble—worked its way out of Jimmy's throat, and more words came with it.  

“I saw them with their bows and arrows out—Joel, Etho, Scott—and I—” He shook his head. “We’d have been fine if I just didn’t peak my head over!” 

Jimmy turned back to Tango and pointed at him; Tango blinked, but the accusation delivered wasn’t for him. “And they weren’t even shooting at Grian, at—why weren’t they shooting at anyone else?”

Tango shook his head a little, opened his mouth to reply, but Jimmy wasn’t done. “I don’t understand—I don’t—” he grabbed at his hair and pulled; he bit into his lip again, not stopping when it started to hurt even though he knew Tango must’ve felt the ghost of it too. Jimmy rocked in place, “I even thought it. I thought ‘what are you leaning over the edge for, idiot!’ And then!” 

Jimmy spun, but no form of movement could match the direction of his thoughts, the restlessness of his mind. He felt like he was malfunctioning, every action begun and then subsequently aborted in favor of another; as if he could stop it all if he could just get himself to feel physically how he felt mentally, equilibrium a sort of saving grace. 

Jimmy hit himself in the head once like he could knock things back into place, fix whatever was loose in there–get the paper to start shredding again; in pieces, maybe, things would be okay. There was a call behind him of stop that, hey, none of that! and the bed creaked as Tango finally made the move to stand. 

“I don’t understand,” Jimmy mumbled again. They were inside, but his hair still felt the wind ruffle through it as though he were at high altitude; his hands touched nothing, but he could grip the hardwood of the defense tower all the same, rough and splintering. Joel and Etho had stood so far below, looking up, each with a hand up to their eyes to shield them from the sun. Jimmy remembered every detail about that moment—Grian had been leaning over right next to him. “Stupid parasite and it—why weren’t they shooting at anyone else? All I had to do was not lean over…”

Jimmy startled when Tango spoke again, he’d forgotten for a moment he wasn’t alone. 

“I don’t follow—parasite? What pa—”

Right, he wasn’t alone. 

“Gosh, and I’ve killed you, too, we’re–we’re red!” Jimmy said, facing Tango again. “And we’re back to nothing, we’ve lost everything—the horns, they’d have taken them by now, surely.” The anger from before seeped back into his voice, and Tango kept his space; a part of Jimmy felt bad at that, but he mostly felt validated. The guilt would come later, his chest didn’t house the room to feel so many things at once. 

Though space didn’t mean Tango was willing to stay out of things completely. 

“Jimmy, just hold on, I can’t keep up.” Tango was clearly still thrown by the direction things had gone in—he’d been expecting to reassure, not pacify—but Jimmy didn’t have it in him to stop and explain. His hands out like he was corralling a feral animal, he said, “What are you even…? Slow down, alright.” 

And maybe that was the last straw—his soulmate, known for his rage, asking him to calm, to slow down; the stark contrast between the Tango standing in front of him—hands splayed, face confused but determined—and the Tango who’d needed to be restrained as the ranch smoldered behind them; the fact that it was Jimmy who was being looked at like a time bomb with not even 5 seconds left to spare. 

This time, the accusation was meant for Tango, and Jimmy watched him stumble a little in shock when he received it. He threw his hand out like he’d needed that extra strength to pull the question from him, like his throat wasn’t up for the challenge alone, like he had to prove this was something he wanted to start and start now.  

“Why aren’t you mad?”

Tango’s face wound up with disbelief. “What?” 

Jimmy’s voice wasn’t made to be raised, but he gave it his best effort. It hurt, in a way—his throat not used to the coarse delivery; it hurt more for the fact that he’d made Tango the object of its direction. 

“You’re sitting here, and you’re calm,” he spat. “And—and you’re telling ME to be calm! Me!” Jimmy huffed again at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. “Why aren’t you mad?”

This time as Jimmy spoke, Tango wound down; he visibly CTRL+ALT+DLT-ed, a total system shutdown reboot. His hands dropped back to his sides and he stood up straighter. His face reset until he was just blankly watching Jimmy sputter and steam. He was still in a way Tango rarely was.

Jimmy thought it was the most un-Tango-like thing he’d ever seen, and that just made things worse. 

“Because it was going to happen either way, I could’ve just as eas—” its delivery was flat, like Tango knew he was stepping off of a bear trap but onto a landmine; though he did it anyway, and in most circumstances, his dedication to the idea of if at first you don’t succeed! was something Jimmy found endearing. If it wasn’t clear enough already, this was not most circumstances. 

Jimmy made a noise of dissent. This wasn’t—

“No, not—that’s not what I meant.”

A few beats of silence. They argued with the awkward hesitation of two people who’d never fought before and therefore didn’t know the procedure; neither of them had had time to memorize their lines. Fight was something they didn’t do—partially because they hadn’t been together long enough to garner the need, and partially because they got along with a simplicity they hadn’t expected. There was a question in this lapse between one comment and the next, an are we really going to do this?  

Tango blinked at Jimmy. “You don’t mean why am I not mad at you?” 

It would’ve been an easy out if he had. A way to walk them back to familiar ground—the kind where Jimmy was apologetic and guilty and anxious and Tango was steady and reassuring and kind. 

He couldn’t lie and say that wasn’t part of it; he was a liability, and he would never be over Tango being his collateral damage. 

He looked away from Tango, “Well—”

“Jimmy…” Pity was such an ugly, regretful thing. 

“No! No—yes, that’s not what I mean.” And it really wasn’t—at least, not at first, not completely. That was the undertone that would drive all his decisions and thoughts and feelings, it’s true, but this was different. This was—they’d died, Jimmy killed them, and Tango wasn’t upset about it; moreover, Tango was docile, passive. He was—

“Then I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”

—resigned. 

Jimmy didn’t yet look back, because he knew it would be his turn to talk when he did. All that he had to explain lacked the rationale to be said aloud; simply put, he was mad because Tango wasn’t. 

“You’re gonna have to give me something to go off of here, Jim.”

Eyes still fixed resolutely on the wall, Jimmy repeated the only sentiment he really could express at the time. “You’re not mad…” He let the end trail off, embarrassed it was all he had to offer, knowing it was unfair to Tango, knowing a normal person would’ve been able to voice more; just another way Jimmy fell behind. 

“At?”

“At anything!” He was discovering that when he did yell, his voice got high, and he tended to cut off the ends of his words. They shortened, got sucked up into the emotion until they weren’t letters anymore but sounds. “You’re—I had to restrain you, practically, after Scar burned down the ranch! And I wasn’t there, but I heard about last life and I—”

He felt like his sentences were being recorded in takes; start and stop, start—stop, mark! He would sound so much better edited together. He needed a script, surely he’d be able to say the right words had someone else given them to him. He’d do it right then, he knew. Of course arguing, too, was something he wasn’t good at.

Jimmy gestured at Tango, “You’re not mad, at anything, you’re just standin’ here! We’re going to die and it’s like you don’t even…like you’re not upset.” The final clause came out dejected and unsure; it sounded like it belonged to a completely different conversation. If he were reading lines, he’d likely receive notes about consistency and remaining in character. It was hard to do that when he wasn’t sure who he was or was ever supposed to be.

Tango looked no less confused. “That’s how the game works, Jimmy—we’re all going to die at some point.”

“I know that, Tango, I know.” Jimmy bit his lip. “How are you just okay with it?”

Tango’s eyebrows raised in shock, the kind that spoke to his questioning the audacity of something. “Well, I’m not happy about it, bu—”

“You are, though.” 

Eyes narrow, frustration finally starting to seep in, Tango said: “No, I’m not.”

“You are!” This felt more tantrum than argument; more whining about not getting his way than making a point about having been wronged; he wasn’t really sure he had been wronged. At least, not by Tango. But he didn’t know how to rewind, he didn’t think there was a going back. 

“Damnit, Jimmy, I’m not. You think I want to lose this?” 

No, Jimmy didn’t—and that’s why he was so confused. 

“Then why aren’t you angry that’s what I don’t…” This line of questioning wasn’t going to work—he’d already discovered that again and again. He needed to figure out a different direction to head in. “Even now I’m yellin’ at you and you’re just there.”

“So now you’re mad because I’m not yelling at you?” Annoyance, frustration, irritation—they were close, but none of them were what Jimmy wanted. Or—not what he wanted but what he needed. People were mad at him far too often for him to crave it in this uncommon time when no one was, but he needed to know Tango was with him on this.

“No, Tango!” Jimmy whined.

“Well you’re not explaining anything, what am I supposed to think? That’s what it sounds like you’re saying to me!” His voice finally at an above-normal volume, Jimmy shrunk; reality wasn’t ever quite like expectation, was it? The simultaneous relief mixed with the guilt, and everything got worse; he thought maybe that’d been his goal all along, he could see it now that it had occurred. And yet, it wasn’t right; sure, Tango was mad—but he still didn’t get it. Tango kept rambling.

“You’re mad that I’m not mad, and you say it’s not about you, but then you’re also mad I’m not yelling at you—which I have yet to figure out, by the way, and—” 

Following Tango’s wild hand gestures, Jimmy’s eyes landed on their wall of chests, and he knew what he needed to do. He scooted past Tango, who turned to keep facing him, and started rooting around until he found what he was looking for. 

“Oh, and you’re ignoring me too, now, which is neat,” Tango said to his back.

He’d wrapped it in a bundle of spare wool hoping that bed made they wouldn’t need much else and Tango wouldn’t find it on accident, but he pulled it out now and turned back to face Tango gripping it in his hand.

His soulmate shut up immediately, his gaze first on Jimmy’s hand, and then up at his eyes. 

“Where did you get that.” The anger was finally there, but Jimmy didn’t immediately respond. “Why do you have that?”

The golden apple was cold in his hand, colder than he thought it should have been. It glowed slightly in the darkness of the ranch, a yellow hue that spread out in a dim radius; he had the bizarre thought that it would've made a good nightlight had it not been illegal. Jimmy had always been a bit scared of the dark (he’d been pleased, then, when the game had started and he found that his soulmate glowed just the same). He didn’t need the apple sitting on the lid of their chests to provide light—not so long as he had Tango; how ironic then that he only got both or none, that consuming—and therefore getting rid of—the apple would rid him of Tango, too. 

Jimmy didn’t want to be left alone in the dark, but that was sort of why he looked back at Tango and he said, “I think you should eat it.”

“No.” It was both a response and an expression of disbelief rolled into one; a no, this conversation is not happening, not now, and a no way in hell is that thing getting anywhere near my mouth. The stillness was back, but it was more dangerous this time; less resigned, more preparing to strike.

Jimmy repeated himself, lifting his arm and holding the apple between them as he did. “Tango, you should eat it.”

“No.” Tango shook his head. “Jimmy, I said no.” 

“Why not?”

“Why not?” A sardonic, humorless laugh made its way out of Tango, and Jimmy flinched at the sound; a broken echo of their usual selves. “This is a joke, right? There’s something here that I’m missing that makes this all super-happy-funny and we’ll laugh about it in 5 minutes.”

“I’m serious, Tango.”

His hands on his hips, Tango nodded at Jimmy as he said, “you are.” It was deceptively compliant, mockingly understanding. Jimmy was misled often enough in conversation to recognize when he was being set up, but he hadn’t quite yet learned the skill of letting things go; he walked again and again through a door labeled trap! which was how he knew he was doing it now. 

“Yes...” 

“Serious-serious, you’re seriously asking me why I don’t want to eat a golden apple.” Tango doubling down, Tango continuing to misunderstand, the fact that Jimmy couldn’t blame him for any of it, the feeling of everything at once, and the knowledge that all was out of his control; he felt his eyes well up with tears of frustration. 

“That’s what I just said...” Dejected, a clown waiting for the punchline—waiting for others to laugh at his expense; setting up joke after joke, forgetting what it was like to not provide the entertainment. 

“Well I just wanted to confirm before I informed you that that’s the stupidest question I’ve ever been asked in my entire life.” It was at this point that Jimmy let out a breath, and a tear fell with it. “Like, wow it’s almost an accomplishment how stupid that question is.”

“Tango…” He’d plead but he knew he didn’t have the right—not in this conversation of his own devising. It wouldn’t be a lie to say he didn’t know how they got here, but it wouldn’t be the truth either. 

“Really! I’d make you a ribbon to commemorate and everything if we had literally anything to our name at all.”

Catching the opportunity to jump back in, Jimmy took it. “Okay, that—that’s my point.” 

“That I haven't offered to make you a rib—” 

Jimmy cut Tango off again before he could stuff the conversation with more nonsense in defense. “That we have nothing—have had nothing since we started!” 

It was more than just luck—it was design. There came a point where chance ended, a place coincidence didn’t reach. Jimmy had dwelled long enough in the space between unlucky and doomed to know that one was cyclic, intermittent, while the other was ceaseless, fixed. Luck would come and go, but damnation? That kind of fate had been here since before all of them, and would remain long after. 

The subject was taboo, but there wasn’t a single person on this server who was unaware that Jimmy was ill-fated. They poked and prodded him about it, but any level of seriousness to the conversation was buried under veiled laughter and slightly glassy eyes; the kind of sheen to a stare that said even if they tried, they couldn’t know what it was they talked about. To everyone else, Jimmy’s “curse” was a bit they’d overindulged in; to Jimmy, it was a burden he wasn’t allowed to acknowledge. They didn’t let him. 

He’d thought maybe…Tango was being forced to share it; maybe something would click; maybe they’d let him have this for just a few weeks. 

Jimmy didn’t think he could get any more stupid. 

The sarcasm remained equipped, defenses high. “Well, I’m sorry that you think I’m not doing enough to provide for you, Jimmy, bu—”

Jimmy groaned again. “Tango can you be serious for 2 minutes! 2 minutes, please!” 

“No!” Tango was looking at him in a way he never did; a look that conveyed I cannot believe you, the underlying sentiment of dismissal that hurt more for it coming from the only person who’d ever really listened to him without reservation.“You know what, no, I cannot. If you’re going to start a ridiculous argument you’re going to get ridiculous responses—you don’t like it, too bad.”

Jimmy had been involved in a lot of ridiculous arguments before—it came with being a reactive person; he existed with defenses always already half-raised, on high alert for anything that might make him the center of negative attention. 

But this wasn’t one of them. The ranch, Tango, soulmates—they were easily the most valuable things he’d ever had—and that was why he couldn’t have them. He was going to lose it—he was already losing it; it never hurt so much when he was the only thing he had. “Gosh, dont you get it?! There’s nothing we can do—nothing! I’m gonna kill us, you understand?”

It felt good to say it out loud, to watch Tango blink in the face of such bluntness. Somehow his shock betrayed his lucidity, and proved to Jimmy what he’d feared all along: Tango felt it too. 

And that made him circle all the way back to the beginning of this stupid roundabout conversation. Maybe he didn’t know it in so many words, having less time to experience it than Jimmy did but Tango knew—their time was running out; running out in a way it didn’t for anyone else playing these games; running out in a way Jimmy had—until now—never before been allowed to acknowledge. Tango knew. 

And Tango wasn’t mad. 

“Ugh, this is—this is childish, is what it is! I don’t…I can’t believe this is happening. This is—it’s madness.” What did they bother going in circles for if they were just going to end up right where they’d started?

“You’re the one trying to force feed me a golden apple,” Tango grumbled, eyebrows raised and face mocking as he looked at the cows. A few of them were standing against the fence staring back, mooing insistently; a strange audience for a strange night. 

“Because I’m sick of it, Tango!” He was, once again, not the right recipient of this complaint, but what else was Jimmy to do? Seasons of grief built up in one desperate conversation, it was becoming more a list of grievances than a call to action. “Of all of it! Of the jokes, of losing, of—of not being in control of anything, of dying—and you—”

“Me?” Tango huffed, interrupting. “Wow, tell me how you really feel, Jim.”

Jimmy shook his head and looked down, a dismissal; his answer immediate and unhesitant. “No, that’s not what I—” 

Sick of Tango—it wasn’t possible, but he saw in his hands that he still clutched the golden apple, and he was reminded again of all the ways in which he was dangerous; of the ways in which he was the heavy rock tied around Tango’s ankle, sinking slowly despite all efforts. He closed his eyes, tight, hard enough to hurt, and swallowed the bile in his throat. “You know what, yeah. I am.”

He looked up again to look at Tango, forcing himself to look determined, sure. “Yes, I’m sick of you.”

“Jimmy…” There was a warning there, but following warnings was never Jimmy’s strong suit. 

“I am!” He didn’t think there was much of a chance Tango would believe him, but he loved Tango enough that he owed it to him to try. “I’m sick of you and how calm you’re being. We’re losing everything, again, always and you’re just standin’ around and I’m sick of it, Tango.” 

Tango refused to answer, and Jimmy knew to be any convincing at all, he had to commit. 

“I’m sick of this place,” he gestured around the ranch, rebuilt since the fire but still nowhere near as advanced as the other bases on the server; they could try and try and try but they’d never reach that level; they couldn’t be allowed to have an actual chance. “and—and how we built it from nothing and it still didn’t matter. We weren’t even doing that bad, and we’re still losing, and I’m sick of that, too!” 

Tango standing still, Tango with his hands on his hips, Tango refusing to rise to the bait in Jimmy’s words. “I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t believe me? Fine, I’ll just keep going then.” He shrugged, undeterred, glancing around as if he wasn’t bothered—and his eyes landed on the cows in the corner, still watching them as if simply their being awake meant they’d be getting fed. Jimmy raised the arm with the golden apple, using it to point at them. “These stupid cows mooing all the time—the chickens—might as well just kill ‘em all now, 'cause they’re not going to matter either, are they? I’m over this place, and—and everyone else treating us like a joke.”

He looked back at Tango when he’d finished. “And I know you’re sick of it too, you are.”

“I’m not.” This, finally, was familiar ground—Jimmy projecting, Tango reassuring—but for once, Jimmy wished his anxiety proven right, he wished Tango would give in and admit that this wasn’t what he wanted—that Jimmy wasn’t what he wanted; not if it meant the absence of a fair chance.  

“You are, you have to be.” And it was somewhat like begging. Jimmy’s never begged someone to be sick of him before—he was usually pleading for the opposite; how backward, how wrong, everything in him screaming what are you doing?! No one else had ever treated him like Tango did. 

He sniffed once—as he was still crying—and kept listing things; the sort of fears it would kill him if Tango validated, but he said them anyway. If there was any chance it’d get Tango to eat the apple and be safe. 

“You’re sick of having to cater to me, right? Of having to answer a million questions and reassure.” Tango began to shake his head, but Jimmy ignored it and kept going, stepping closer to his soulmate. 

“And I bet you’re sick of losing, too. You don’t want to lose, Tango, not again, right?” It was a low blow, but Tango didn’t look hurt so much as he looked sad; he accepted Jimmy’s meanness as a product of his fear, and he curbed his offense to make room for the heartbreak. 

Figures that Jimmy starts a needless argument insulting Tango endlessly and was still the most pitied in the room. He didn’t know if it was a product of his selfishness or Tango’s altruism, but the effect remained the same. 

Within arms reach at last, Tango raised a hand but stopped it midway between them, unsure if breaching this distance was yet allowed. When Jimmy didn’t do anything about it, Tango lowered his hand until it rested on the front-facing part of Jimmy’s shoulder, eyebrows furrowed, not trusting that this was over.

Jimmy mirrored Tango with his own hand, feeling the warmth of Tango’s vest and above-average temperature below—the heat that’d been keeping him warm at night when they couldn’t splurge on extra blankets or were sleeping in a half-burned-down building or just because. He only allowed himself to feel it for a second before he pushed—not hard, but enough to make Tango take a step back, more because he wasn’t expecting it than due to force. 

“Come on,” Jimmy pled. “Fight back. Get mad, hit me.”

“I’m not going to hit you, Jimmy.”

Jimmy stepped forward and pushed again, both hands; not harder but more firm. “Fight back, Tango, come on.”

“No.” Tango’s face was scrunched together in the most vehement disagreement he could give, and, out of options—out of energy—Jimmy made another noise somewhere between a whine and a groan and raised his hands again, only for Tango to catch them this time and drag Jimmy closer; dropping his hands the second he was within holding distance, one of Tagno’s arms wrapped around him and the other cradled the back of Jimmy’s head as he pulled it down towards his shoulder. Their height difference made it difficult at first, but they’d been practicing for weeks. 

Jimmy went without protest, arms at Tango’s waist, screwing his eyes shut tight enough that he could almost pretend he didn’t hear the I’ve got you’s that he didn’t deserve but Tango was nonetheless whispering to the side of his head. He wanted to protest—or, no, he wanted to want to protest; to keep trying until Tango understood, until Jimmy screwed up enough that Tango got fed up and left the way anyone else would’ve done weeks ago, possibly just upon finding out they were paired. 

“You’re okay—we’re okay,” Tango said. “I’ve got you. We’re going to be okay,” hand steady on the back of Jimmy’s head, holding fast when he tried to shake it and express his opposition. Jimmy didn’t think that ‘okay’ had a place here, not for them, not anymore. 

They were on their last life now, he could feel the effects of being red thrumming through him, though they weren’t as much to blame for the damage he’d caused as he wished; this disaster, like most, was entirely Jimmy’s own. 

Still murmuring and offering reassurance, fingers of one hand still scratching through Jimmy’s hair, Tango used his other to gently pry the golden apple from Jimmy—no longer putting up a fight—and toss it away without looking until it rolled on the wood flooring through the gate of the cow pen. Jimmy watched, head still on Tango’s shoulder, as the cows shuffled around for the lobbed apple, mooing increasingly louder until, after a crunch or two, it was assumed no longer there. 

He felt more so than heard Tango clear his throat, the motion vibrating through Jimmy like a warning. “I am mad,” Tango whispered, voice only half-formed at the low volume. “I am,” he repeated, “don’t think I’m not.” His tone the kind of calm that only gave way to true anger. “But what can we do?”

Jimmy closed his eyes. He didn’t know. 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~

They’re in bed after, facing each other in the dark; Tango watching Jimmy, Jimmy watching their clasped hands between them. Tango’s thumb ran along the ridges and valleys of his knuckles, waiting for something, though he didn’t know what. In his mind, Jimmy was running through all he had to offer—the things he should say, the things he couldn’t voice—but what he kept getting stuck on was:

“I didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” Tango said; not exasperated, not upset, just matter of fact. 

Jimmy raised his eyes to Tangos, shaking his head as much as he could while lying down, not willing to risk any more miscommunication, “I’m not sick of it here.” 

“I know, Jimmy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shhh,” Tango pulled their joined hands until Jimmy scooted forward, head under Tango’s chin, all not forgotten but, at the moment, behind them. They were on their red life, after all—there were other things to worry about. 

Jimmy knew that the fact that Tango loved him shouldn’t be one of them, but when it was more than he wanted to live, it was. There was nothing he could do about it now. They would wake up in bed tomorrow and, maybe if they were lucky, the day after that—but there wouldn't be another respawn. They were out of time, out of options—this was it. 

Tango loved him, Tango wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t need to press his ear further into Tango’s chest to hear his heartbeat—not when it was an echo of his own—but he did it anyway and tried not to number the beats like a countdown, to assign them values and limitations. 

He squeezed Tango tighter, comfort disregarded; it was an offering where words had previously failed him, though there was no guarantee that his message would translate this way either. Physicality was another language Jimmy had never gained proficiency in—pretty much any method of communication verbal or non-verbal was—but he owed it to Tango to try. The trace of his fingers along Tango’s spine said I’m sorry, his breath on Tango’s chest whispered of how he’d spare Tango’s heart from his if he could; forehead to collarbone asked if things could still be normal tomorrow, since there was now a very real possibility that tomorrow was all they had. 

He didn’t bother interpreting the response, focus lost as Jimmy tried and failed not to drift away on the subliminal messaging of his own; that this was his loss, his failure, his fault. 

If he’d tried, maybe he’d have read the brush of Tango’s fingers through his hair as I don’t mind, the press of lips to the top of his head as reaffirming the deliberate choice being made—the decision to stay, to be a part of this. 

But he didn’t. Jimmy was stuck, and not at all like he had thought. Maybe he wasn’t the fish, maybe he was the parasite; the birds were circling and Jimmy could beg all he wanted, but Tango loved him. Tango wasn’t going to swim down. 

Tango wasn’t going anywhere.

[adrift-in-thyme]

Whumptober Day 2: Delirium

Read it on Ao3

- Time, Twilight, & Wild

- Summary: Time comes down with an illness and takes a turn for the worse

CW for delirium, illness and fever, mentions of holding a character down (no one actually gets held down), and a character getting punched

—————————-

Twilight sighs as he tugs the blanket a little higher over Time’s shoulder. The older hero shudders, teeth clacking together so hard it’s audible. When the rancher presses a hand to his head, it’s dangerously warm. He pulls away, lips set in a grim line.

“How’s he doing?” Comes Wild’s hushed voice from where he sits by the fire.

Twilight shakes his head. “No better. I think he’s getting worse.”

He sighs again, pressing his fingertips to his temples.

“There’s no need to fuss over me,” Time had assured the two of them only that morning. “I’m alright. It’s likely a cold, nothing more.”

And though his voice had sounded a bit hoarse and he was a little paler than usual, besides that he had seemed like his normal self. So, Twilight had taken him at his word.

…and had had to watch as his condition steadily declined throughout the day. He had tried to make more rest stops and urged the old man to drink during every one. Wild had even offered him a potion, though he had refused it. But their efforts hadn’t been enough. By the time they had found a good stopping place for the night, Time’s gaze had been bleary and unfocused, skin clammy and pale, steps stumbling and heavy.

When Twilight had pulled out his bed mat and ordered him to lie down before he could collapse, his attempts at arguing had fallen pathetically flat. And it hadn’t taken much convincing to get him to let the rancher guide him over to his bed mat. After that, he had swallowed the potion Wild had given him without much complaint.

Since then, he has been sleeping, though restlessly. And with each passing hour, Twilight’s worry has only grown.

Time shifts now, mumbling something about protecting cows and fighting off aliens. Another series of shivers run through him.

Twilight gnaws his lip for a moment, then looks over his shoulder at Wild.

“Hey, do we have any spare rags? I need something cool to put on his head.”

“Yeah, hold on.”

Wild searches in his pouch for a moment, then with a triumphant sound produces a small, worn cloth. Rising, he walks to the nearby stream. When he returns, the cloth is sopping wet with chilled water.

“Thanks,” Twilight says, taking it from him. Gently brushing Time’s hair back, he lays it over his forehead.

The hero shudders at the cool touch and his eye flutters open.

“What…” His gaze flits about the clearing, taking in everything but seeing nothing. “Is-is it time?”

Twilight exchanges an uneasy glance with Wild. Time for what, he isn’t certain. But he shakes his head anyway.

“No, not yet, old man. Go back to sleep.”

Time looks at him, his expression almost pleading. “Why…it-it’s so cold.”

He brings up a hand to pull weakly at the cloth. Twilight grasps his wrist before he can manage to fling it off. Carefully, he guides his hand back down to his side.

“You’ve got a fever. That’s gonna help us break it. So, just leave it there, alright?”

“No, I don’t want to,” Time slurs, stubbornly reaching for it again. “I’s too cold. And it’s wet.”

With an effort, Twilight suppresses a sigh. Little had he thought that caring for his mentor would ever be like caring for the village children.

“Here!” Wild shows up by his side with a bowl of stew in hand. Twilight hadn’t even realized that he had left. “I made dinner. This’ll warm you up!”

With a look of gratitude, Twilight takes the bowl from him. “Yeah, how about you have something to eat? It’ll help you get your strength back too.”

Though Time still looks less than pleased with the whole situation, the promise of warmth seems enough to convince him. He allows them to sit him up and spoon the food into his mouth, swallowing each bite dutifully. But even after he has eaten, he seems little improved. Shivers still rip through his body, his skin is hot to the touch, and he hardly seems aware of what is happening around him.

There is nothing more they can do, however, so Twilight helps him lie back down. Within moments, his eye slides shut and he is asleep once more.

-----------

Twilight volunteers to take the first watch. Wild needs his rest after the difficult day they have endured. Besides, he wants to keep a close eye on his mentor. So, he settles down beneath the shade of a tree a short distance away. And he waits for morning.

The moon is still high in the sky when he hears it. Someone is moving about behind him. The telltale clank of armor plates reaches his ears and he whips around, sword in hand. But there is no monster there. The sight that greets him, however, doesn’t calm him one bit.

Time is sitting upright on a nearby log, trembling fingers working to pull on his gauntlets. His abandoned bed mat lies not far away, masked by a heap of tangled blankets.

Twilight sheaths his sword with a sigh. He had worried something like this might happen. The old man’s fever is dangerously high, after all. But he had dared hope it would break before the inevitable occurred.

“Hey, old man,” he says, gently, and Time’s head jerks upward.

Even in the dim light of the dying fire, his cheeks look flushed, his face pallid. His gaze is as glossy as ever, yet when it meets Twilight’s the intensity of it is almost enough to make him pause.

“He’s coming,” he croaks, in a voice so hoarse Twilight cringes. His throat must be on fire right now.

He takes another step toward him, careful to keep his movements slow.

“Who’s coming?”

Time’s expression hardens further. A shiver tears through him with such intensity that his gauntlet slips from his fingertips and hits the ground. He retrieves it with a growl of frustration.

“Have to prepare…”

“For what?”

“Not what–who.”

Twilight swallows. “Okay, then, who?”

A short way away Wild stirs. With a groan he sits up, rubbing at his bleary eyes.

“What’s goin’ on Twi?”

At the sound of his voice, Time leaps to his feet, looking wildly about the clearing. Twilight rushes forward to catch him before he topples. The older hero tries to shove him off, but he holds on.

“Whoa, take it easy,” he says, patting his arm. “That’s just Wild.”

Time drags in a breath that rattles in his lungs. He looks down at Twilight, an almost crazed look in his eye.

“You must run – both of you. He-he’s coming! I’ll only be able to ho-hold him off for s-so long and…”

He trails off as his words dissolve in a hacking cough.

Wild is on his feet now, fear in his eyes.

“Potion,” Twilight mouths and he nods. Immediately, he ducks down and begins rifling through his pouch.

Twilight turns back to Time, who is still wavering in his grasp. “Whoever it is, we’ll get him, okay? Now, how about you just sit down? You can’t defeat him if you’re flat on your face.”

As gently as possible he pushes Time back onto the log, even as the older hero tries to wrench himself out of his grip. Twilight can feel the panic building steadily within him like water boiling in a kettle. If he can just get him to settle down before it grows out of control…

“You can’t–” The old man gasps, breathless and trembling. “Twi..Twilight…I have to…No!” 

Abruptly, he reels back. Before Twilight can react, a fist collides with his face. The rancher stumbles. His grasp slips. With surprising speed, Time lunges for his sword.

“Ganondorf is coming!”

The fear is blatantly visible on his face now, terror audible in his voice. Twilight freezes, hand stopping halfway through its journey to touch his newly bruised cheek.

He’s not the only one with the arm strength of a moblin, apparently.

“Sweet Ordona…”

Time whirls and the rancher is forced to leap out of the way of his sword’s reach.

“Have to get the sages, have to save Zelda…” He takes a stumbling step forward. A particularly violent shudder races through him and the weapon slips from his grip to land with a dull thump on the earthen ground. “Get to the castle….can’t lose this time–all going to die…what a terrible fate…”

Twilight ducks down and snatches Time’s claymore before he can reach for it again. At that moment, Wild scrambles up to his side.

“Here!” He grabs the sword and presses a potion into Twilight’s hands instead. “Lemme get this out of reach and I’ll come help you hold him down.”

Twilight nods. He clenches his hand around the bottle, forcing an inhale through his nose. Time’s words have cut him straight to the core and left him winded and shaky. Never before has he seen the old man this vulnerable, this scared. It just isn’t right, to see his mentor gaze at him like a child seeking refuge from the monsters that stalk the night.

…a child with the world on his small shoulders.

“Time.” His voice trembles the slightest bit and he clears his throat. “I need you to trust me.”

Time freezes before him, teeth chattering, breath coming on haggard half-gasps. He crosses his arms tightly over his chest.

“N-no.” He shakes his head. “Only have three days. The clock resets — e-everything’s over. Have to sta…start again and I can’t…please don’t make me.”

He’s speaking pure nonsense now — at least Twilight desperately hopes that’s what this is — but it’s enough to shatter his heart. What nightmares has the hero endured to inspire a plea like this? What secrets haunt him?

…what regrets? 

“Twi,” Wild says from beside him and Twilight forces himself to inhale the breath he had been holding.

“We won’t make you start again,” he says, quietly. “I promise.” Carefully, he holds out the bottle. “But we need you to drink this. It…it will give you strength for the battle.”

The lie tastes ashen in his mouth. He has no other choice though. It’s either this or pin the old man to the ground and by Hylia, he doesn’t want it to come to that.

Time’s eye flits between the proffered bottle and the two heroes in front of him. He shudders again, stumbling a bit.

Twilight dares to take a slow step forward. “Trust us.”

“We only want to help,” Wild chimes in, though his voice is unusually quiet. “You don’t have to fight anyone alone.”

For a long moment, Time merely gazes at them, resigned exhaustion and terror warring across his face. Twilight holds his breath.

And then, slowly, he reaches out. Grasping the bottle, he tips it back. No sooner has he downed the crimson liquid than the tension bleeds from his shoulders. The bottle slips from his hand at the same time that he slumps bonelessly forward.

Twilight is just in time to catch him.

[eightmakesonebraincell]

OKAY SO HI! Hope I’m not bothering and hope your day is going/went well! 💕

Just wanna say love your work so much! The texts are hilarious and your works are *chefs kiss* If they get turned into a movie I’m watching it everyday!

Also I’m just randomly wondering since Y/n and her 8 boyfies decided to somewhat stay in Namhae in “the essence of youth is summers with you” so they’re bound to bump into Johnny at occasionally, how would johnny react to his ex suddenly having 8 boyfriends at once? 😭

Like since he’s a douchesnozle i would think he’d stir some shit up, and how would the boys respond as well lol. Idk cause I’m imagining it and like I can see the boys just end up beating him up lol and idk why I find that funny hehe

Mkay that’s all! Keep up the wonderful work! I’ll definitely read what you release next!!! 💕💕

omg please this made me smile so hard and it is so nice to dive back into the teoyiswy au, because i did not realise just how much i've missed writing about my hot surfer bois 🥹🫶

c/w: unedited 0.8k, half fic half train of thought, explicit profanity, insults, toxic ex

okay first off yall not going to believe me but johnny originally had a redeeming arc planned LMAO his character was meant to be one of those people who become blinded by their desire for the other person and end up making the wrong decisions, and it isn't until after losing that person do they realise their mistakes. so johnny was meant to be redeemed, you guys were meant to apologise to one another, and then get closure on okay-ish terms.

buuuuuut if we're going down the route of johnny stays a douchesnozle, then i think it would be hilarious if he tries to break you up with your boyfies. it goes down like this: johnny runs into you on a date with san at the cafe you've been going with him since you two were twelve, and san is sharing a strawberry dacquoise and a grapefruit ade with you. johnny scoffs at the sight of him feeding you with the fork and is like, "i fuckin' knew it."

you don't notice your ex because your back is facing him, but san definitely does. the next bite he pretends to give you, san moves the fork out of the way at the last second and pecks you on the lips instead. you squeal and ask him, "what was that for?" and san simply replies, "just cause i can," and cause johnny can't. hah.

the boys one; johnny zero.

johnny stalks off grumpy, and lo and behold two days later he runs into you again at the mart filling a whole bag of ice cream to buy (not with your money, of course). but what the fuck? you're with hongjoong, and he's got you all wrapped up with your back against his chest as you both pick out the ice cream from the freezer. you spot the last of the magnum ice cream sandwiches, which you know is yeosang's favourite, so you lean into the freezer to dig it out.

hongjoong steadies your waist when he happens to look up and make eye contact with your ex, and if you notice your boyfriend's hands holding you a little firmer, you don't realise that it's because he is feeling a little possessive. hongjoong makes a show to nuzzle into your neck with fond endearment when you stand back up and present the wrapped ice cream to him, because you're his now, not johnny's.

the boys two; johnny still zero.

it continues like that. johnny keeps running into you around namhae–at the beach, at different cafes, on the streets. he keeps himself hidden, but he sees you with a different boyfriend each time. coincidentally, the boys always manage to spot him, probably because they are always on alert whenever you are out with them. and it always goes down the same. you obliviously glow under their public displays of affection in the form of hugs, kisses, smiles and interlocked hands, whilst your ex fumes away in his anger.

until he cannot take it anymore. it's summer and you're out with all of them at the beach, one of those rare days when you are able to spend time with the eight of your boyfriends together. it's nostalgic lying on the towel with yeosang tracing patterns on your skin, watching your boys toss each other into the water, surfboards long forgotten on the sand near you. a shadow falls over you and yeosang, and when you look up, you're shocked to see that it is your ex.

"johnny," you stutter, because why is he here in front of you? you scramble to your feet, as does yeosang, and he pulls you behind him as he stands in front.

"what the fuck do you want?" the voice doesn't come from him, though. it's san, and the rest of your boys have already made their way back to shore to stand protectively around you the moment they realised who was approaching you.

your ex scoffs with disbelief, "you know this slut is cheating on you all, right? she's cheating on every single one of you behind your very backs and you still want her?"

hongjoong growls dangerously, "you want to say that one more fucking time?"

"yeah," johnny challenges, "she's a fucking slut."

"and you're a fucking idiot because she's dating all of us. she's our girlfriend, and if you fucking dare come close to her or any of us ever again, it won't just be your pea-sized ego that is bruised–it'll be your whole fucking face."

so basically johnny makes a clown out of himself trying to expose you for cheating, only to be told that lol jokes on him you're dating them all and a million times happier than you ever were with him. hongjoong and wooyoung are extremely close to knocking your ex's teeth out, but a single glance from you and your boys have heeled. johnny never bothers you or the boys ever again and you all live happily ever after.

the boys eight; johnny minus eight.

the end :D

[jinxedruby]

Ambush at the Bridge: Chapter Five

And finally, the conclusion. Man, this is long.

AO3

First part | <- Previous part

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

“This really isn’t necessary, Rancher.”

“You can say that as many times as you want, I’m still not going to let you walk on your own.”

Hyrule heaved a sigh from beside Twilight as they walked but made no further attempt to push away from the rancher. One of his arms wrapped around Twilight’s shoulder while Twilight supported him with an arm around Hyrule’s back. In spite of his insistence that he was fine, Hyrule had stumbled one too many times. Twilight decided to support him the rest of the way despite the traveler’s protests. Hyrule’s hair brushed Twilight’s jaw and he couldn’t help but glance at Hyrule’s head again to make sure the wound wasn’t bleeding. Dried blood matted strands of Hyrule’s brown hair together, darkening the color even further. Hyrule seemed stable, at least. He’d still break into a coughing fit every once in a while and the head wound threw off his sense of balance, but he was coherent and responsive. Twilight glanced away from Hyrule to Wind who walked a few paces ahead of them, constantly throwing concerned glances back at Hyrule.

“How much further, Sailor?” Twilight asked.

“We’re close,” Wind replied. “I recognize this area. There’s another bend or two then we should be there.”

Twilight nodded, readjusting his grip on Hyrule. The three heroes continued making their way upriver, the dull roar of the water accompanying their footsteps. Hyrule started coughing again and Twilight slowed, but the traveler just waved a hand, smiling at him between hacks.

“It’s… it’s just a tickle-“ A cough interrupted him, “-in my throat. I’m fine.”

A frown tugged at Twilight’s lips but Hyrule pulled him forward, continuing to walk. They moved on in quiet, Twilight watching Hyrule carefully for any sign of struggling. Twilight’s ears twitched, picking up a faint noise in the distance. He focused past the sound of the river, honing in on the interruptions in its repetition. He recognized the punctuated vibrations and syllables of voices after a moment.

“I hear the others,” he said. Wind looked back at him, eyebrows raised.

“You do?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and listening. “I don’t hear anything.”

Twilight continued focusing on the sound, inner ears prickling. A low, rumbling pitch, answered by a thinner one. He couldn’t pick up any words but he could hear the sharp s’s and t’s that carried across the air. “It’s definitely them. We’re nearly there.”

Wind turned away, grumbling quietly. “No fair you get super hearing.”

Twilight and Hyrule both chuckled at that, the traveler breaking into a few short coughs. It didn’t take long before Wind heard the others as well. His face split into a grin and he bounced with each step. He sped up, remembered Twilight and Hyrule couldn’t speed up with him, slowed down, and sped up again on a loop. They followed a bend in the river and the trees gave way to the old bridge. Wind laughed, running ahead and waving his arms.

“Guys!” he called to the three blond heads visible across the river. They all lifted at his voice, revealed to be Time, Warriors, and Four. The latter two knelt by the river, water dripping from Four’s face while the captain paused in scrubbing his hands as they looked up. Time sat nearby facing away from them, head turned to look at Twilight and the others.

“Sailor!” Warriors stood along with Four, shaking water from his hands. A blood-speckled bandage wrapped around his head while Four’s nose appeared a few shades too purple. “Is Traveler…?”

“He’s right here,” Twilight called as he and Hyrule came to stand by Wind at the bridge.

Warriors stiffened. Even from across the river, Twilight could see how his shoulders raised, hand darting to the sword on his back. Twilight whipped his head around, expecting to see a monster of some kind sneaking up behind him and Hyrule. Nothing was there. He blinked, turning back to call out and ask what was wrong. He froze. Warriors, Four, and Time all stared directly at him, watching him with looks he’d seen them direct at monsters. The hair on the back of Twilight’s neck rose as he looked between the three heroes.

“What… what’s wrong?” he asked.

A long moment passed before Warriors spoke, eyes darting between Twilight and Hyrule. “Rancher?” he called carefully.

“Yeah?” Twilight responded, uncertain.

Warriors hand closed around the hilt of his sword and Twilight tensed, eyes wide. He felt Hyrule stiffen beside him, the traveler reaching for his own weapon only to remember it wasn’t there. Wind’s head whipped back and forth as he looked between the two groups, face scrunched in confusion.

Four stepped past Warriors, hand hovering near his sword. “Last week,” he began, and Twilight’s trepidation turned to confusion, “the cook made a dessert with apples but you didn’t get to eat yours. Why?”

Twilight’s mouth opened and closed a few times as he processed that. Four wore one of the most serious expressions Twilight had ever seen on the smith. He almost laughed at the absurdity of that combined with his question and how Warriors stood ready to draw his weapon at a moment’s notice.

“S-smith, what-“

“Answer the question, Rancher,” Warriors cut him off, voice tight.

Twilight’s mouth snapped shut, staring dumbfounded at the three. The longer he took to answer, the tenser they became. “Epona loves apples,” he began slowly. “I looked away for one second and she ate it right off of my plate.”

A second ticked by, then another. The sound of the river hammered Twilight’s ears, punctuated by his heartbeat. Then Warriors sighed, hand dropping from his sword. Time seemed to relax as well but Four remained stiff a moment longer, gaze boring into Twilight. After another beat, Warriors placed a hand on Four’s shoulder.

“Smith,” he began in a low voice, probably not intended for those across the river to hear. “I think it’s okay.”

Four stared for a moment longer before he relented, nodding slowly and relaxing his posture.

“Traveler, are you alright?” Warriors called.

Twilight blinked at the abrupt topic change while Hyrule huffed a laugh. “You… you can’t just-“

“What was that about?” Wind cried before Hyrule could complete his thought.

“It…” Warriors glanced at Four. “It’s a lot to explain. Sorry for the suspicion, Rancher. We can talk once you guys get over here.”

“Traveler, are you okay to cross?” Four asked. “We’d come to you, but…” He cast a glance at Time and Twilight frowned. Was the old man wounded? Was that why he hadn’t moved at all other than looking over his shoulder?

“I’m fine,” Hyrule responded.

“Great!” Wind all but jumped onto the bridge, the old wood groaning in protest. “Because I want an explanation for what just happened!”

Twilight nodded in agreement, fighting back a wince as Wind ran across the bridge, loud creaks accompanying each step. Twilight and Hyrule followed after him, reaching it just as Wind crossed to the other side, immediately rushing toward Four and peppering him with questions. Just before stepping onto the bridge, Hyrule stopped, pulling Twilight to a halt as well.

“Traveler?” Twilight asked softly, eyeing how Hyrule stared at the bridge. “You okay?”

Hyrule took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh that sounded almost exasperated. “I hate bridges.”

Twilight snorted. “Tell me about it.”

“Did you fall off a bridge and nearly drown, too?”

Twilight took a step onto the bridge. “No, but I’ve had several break on me,” he began as he took another step, Hyrule beside him. “Had two separate jousting battles on bridges.” Another step. “One got set on fire while I was on it. Had to jump off into the lake below.”

“Yikes.” Hyrule winced in sympathy as they walked.

Twilight hummed in agreement, nodding. “Two got taken apart by beasts and the pieces were thrown to the other side of Hyrule.”

Hyrule laughed. “What is with your journey and bridges?”

“I’ve asked myself the same thing,” Twilight chuckled. Before he knew it, they crossed the bridge, stepping onto solid ground on the other side. He grinned, looking over at Hyrule. “Hey, we made it!”

Hyrule snorted. “You had doubt?”

“You’re really asking that after everything I just told you?”

“Fair enough.”

“Traveler!” Warriors swiftly stepped in front of Hyrule, examining his head wound. He stood back after a moment with a sigh, gesturing to the ground beside Time. “Sit down, let me take a look.”

“It’s fine, I already healed it,” Hyrule protested, pulling against Twilight as the rancher tried to lead him to sit. “Besides, you’re hurt too.”

Twilight eyed the numerous bandages Warriors sported as the captain moved to Hyrule’s other side and grabbed his arm, firmly guiding him next to Time. “Just a few cuts that the old man already took care of. Sit down and let me take a look at your head.”

Hyrule heaved a sigh but didn’t fight any further, letting the two guide him. Once he was seated, Warriors glanced at Twilight.

“Are you hurt, Rancher?” he asked, eyes darting over Twilight.

“No,” Twilight replied, then gave a crooked grin. “Just muddy.”

Warriors nodded with a half-smirk and Twilight stood back up. He glanced between Time and where Four and Wind stood, the sailor continuing to pelt Four with questions faster than the smith could answer. He wanted to ask about their suspicion of him as well, but first…

“Old man,” he said, moving around Hyrule and Warriors and heading toward Time. “Are you-?”

His words died in his throat. Lying unmoving with his head propped up in Time’s lap, tunic absolutely drenched with blood, was Wild. Twilight gasped sharply, dropping to his knees before Wild’s form, one hand darting to the champion’s head, the other to the tear in his tunic over his chest.

“Champion!” Twilight pressed his hand against Wild’s much too pale forehead, the skin cool beneath his palm. Wild stirred at the touch but didn’t open his eyes, lips parted as he took shallow breaths through his mouth. Brownish tracks of dried blood ran along his collar and the sides of his neck, leading toward bloody mats in his hair.

“He’s alright.”

Twilight’s gaze snapped up to Time as the old man placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

“We used a fairy and she took care of his wounds,” Time explained. “But he lost a lot of blood.”

Twilight’s head spun as he looked back down at Wild. Time’s reassurances battled in his mind with the sight of pale, unconscious Wild whose tunic looked closer to a dark purple than blue with how much blood was soaked into it. Wild shivered every so often, brow pinching.

“What…” Twilight swallowed hard against the lump that formed in his throat. “What happened?”

“We were attacked,” Four said, suddenly beside Twilight. Twilight glanced over to see Warriors, Hyrule, and Wind close by as well, listening to Four. “By a… shadow.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “Shadow?”

“Not the Shadow, but…” Four lowered himself to the ground, sitting cross-legged between Twilight and the others. He sighed. “I don’t know. I was able to fight him off, but not before he…” His eyes flicked to Wild for a moment.

Not before he almost killed Champion. Twilight finished in his head, wincing at the involuntary thought.

“Did he do that to your face, too?” Wind asked, delicate as always.

To Twilight’s surprise, Four laughed. “No, that was a moblin, actually. It broke my nose but the captain straightened it.” His smile faded as his eyes drifted back to Wild. Twilight found his gaze traveling to the champion as well, fingers absently running through the tangled blond locks. Wild’s breaths came shallow but steady, face still an unhealthy pallor.

“Does what happened with Champion have to do with your suspicion of me?” Twilight asked, not taking his eyes off Wild.

Four shifted as all eyes turned to him. Twilight looked up to see Four’s gaze locked on Wild, lips knotted.

“Yes,” Four said. He chewed on his lip, took a breath. “The shadow, he…” He trailed off and sighed. Then he forced himself to meet Twilight’s gaze. “He disguised as you.”

Twilight’s hand froze in Wild’s hair. The others might have reacted but he didn’t notice, focus tunneling. His eyes widened, heart thudding in his chest. “It…” He couldn’t form one thought, gaze dropping to Wild’s sleeping face. “Did… did you guys know, o-or…”

“We figured it out,” Four quickly said, seeming to understand Twilight’s thought process. “But not right away. We- he knew it wasn’t you by the time the shadow… hurt him.”

Twilight could hardly feel any relief at that. He couldn’t imagine what Wild must’ve felt. What Twilight would feel if he got attacked by something disguising as Time.

“I’m sorry for suspecting you,” Four said, distracting him from his thoughts.

Twilight shook his head. “No, I understand. I’d have done the same if-“

Stirring beneath his hand brought his words to an abrupt halt. Everyone’s heads snapped downward as Wild groaned, slowly bringing a hand to his head. His eyes fluttered and blinked open, squinted as he looked around. His blue eyes landed on Twilight, a haze dimming their brightness. His movements slowed. Then his eyes shot wide open. He gasped, hurling himself to the side and away from Twilight, slamming against Time. Time tried calming the cook, gently grasping his shoulders but Wild wrestled out of his grip. Twilight’s fingers snagged on a knot in Wild’s hair and the champion panicked, thrashing in an attempt to get away. Before Twilight could free his hand, Wild’s flailing connected with his jaw. The force of the blow snapped his head back and he yelped as Wild tore his hair free, lunging away from him and Time.

“Cook! Cook, calm down!” Four yelled, struggling to get Wild’s attention. Wild didn’t seem to hear him, attempting to spring to his feet. His legs failed to support him and he stumbled to one side before collapsing to his hands and knees with a groan. Warriors, Hyrule, and Wind all darted forward at once, eager to help, but Wild only stiffened at their approach, trying and failing to get up and run again.

“Give him space!” Time called, jumping up and grabbing Warriors’ arm, pulling him back. Warriors glanced at him before tugging on Hyrule and Wind, the three of them backing away. Wild continued to gasp, eyes wide and limbs shaking as he struggled to hold himself up and move. Four dropped to a kneel in front of Wild before Time could stop him, trying to get the cook’s attention.

“Cook! Link!”

The use of his real name seemed to finally get through to Wild. He looked up, breathing hard, muscles tensed as much as they could be in his weakened state.

“It’s fine, you’re safe,” Four said in less of a shout than before.

“But-“ Wild began, voice rough, “-th- the shadow-“

“It’s him, Cook, he’s the real rancher. The shadow’s gone.”

Wild stared at Four for a long moment, the smith giving him a reassuring smile as Wild heaved for breath. Wild turned his head, eyeing Twilight warily. “Rancher?”

Twilight did his best to smile. “Hey, cub.”

Wild visibly relaxed as the nickname, head dropping and elbows wobbling. He groaned and crumpled fully to the ground. Twilight and Four both exclaimed in alarm, darting towards Wild.

“’m okay,” Wild mumbled as Twilight carefully turned him onto his back. “Just lightheaded.”

“Any pain?” Twilight asked, gently checking him over for any fresh blood. “Your chest?”

“I’m fine,” Wild responded, weakly batting Twilight’s hands away. “Really. Just dizzy and thirsty.”

“Here.” Twilight glanced around for Wild’s bag and, when he didn’t immediately see it, unhooked his own water skin from his belt and held it out toward Wild. He and Four helped Wild sit up and Twilight held the water skin to Wild’s lips. Wild wrapped a hand around it and tilted it back. He drank slowly at first but was soon gulping it down, drops escaping through the corners of his mouth and trickling along his jaw.

Warriors knelt down before Wild as the champion drained the last of the water skin, lowering it with a gasp. “How’re you doing, Champion?”

“Captain,” Wild said, ignoring Warriors’ question and reaching toward him with his free hand. Warriors took the hand albeit with a bit of confusion. “Thank you.”

Warriors’ face fell into relief and a soft grin. “Don’t thank me. Thank the old man. If he hadn’t found that fairy…”

“And if you two hadn’t kept him alive until I got back,” Time immediately countered, nodding toward Warriors and Four.

Wild laughed lightly, pulling his hand back. “In any case. Thank you.”

Warriors smiled. “Of course.” Four and Time gave murmurs of assent.

“Glad you’re alright, cub,” Twilight said, giving Wild’s shoulder a squeeze.

Wild turned to look at him and his eyes widened. Twilight slowly took his hand away, worried Wild might still be somewhat afraid of him, but then he realized Wild’s gaze was fixed on his jaw. It throbbed slightly where Wild hit it and, judging by the cook’s expression, a bruise was already forming.

“Did…” Wild paused, swallowing thickly. “Did I do that?”

Twilight smiled, trying to appear reassuring. “It’s okay. You were panicking, I don’t blame you given the circumstances.”

“But still, I…” Wild groaned, folding his arms across his knees and lowering his head onto them. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Twilight rested a hand on Wild’s shoulder. “It’s alright, really.”

Wild turned his head, peeking an eye out from under his bangs. He stared at Twilight for a moment, eye roving over his face. He must have found whatever he was searching for because he sighed and lifted his head again, propping his chin on his arms. Four held his water flask out toward Wild. When the cook didn’t immediately take it, Four shoved it in his face pointedly.

“Drink,” Four said, continuing to hold out the flask. “You lost a lot of blood, you need to stay hydrated.”

Wild leaned away from the flask. “I’m not taking any more of your guys’ wate-“

His words were cut short as Four shoved the mouth of the flask to Wild’s lips. Wild made a muffled noise of protest and Twilight couldn’t help but laugh as Four forcibly tilted the flask. A gargling sound left Wild’s throat before he snatched the flask and pulled it out of Four’s hand and away from his mouth.

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to drown me!” he exclaimed. He took a drink from the flask, rolling his eyes at Four’s smug expression. He glanced around at the others as he drank. Then he glanced around a second time and pulled the flask away from his mouth with a frown. “Where are Sky and the vet?”

“They’re still not back?” Wind asked as he looked around. The others glanced around as well, Twilight’s frown growing the longer the silence stretched.

“Who saw them last?” Time eventually asked as it quickly became apparent that no one knew where the two heroes were.

“I was by Vet at the start of the battle,” Wind spoke up. “But there were a bunch of those really fast lizards and we got split up.”

“I saw those,” Twilight realized. “Some went after Sky, I think. But that was right around when Traveler fell in the river so I didn’t see what happened after that.”

“Were there four?” Wild directed the question at Wind. The sailor nodded. “I saw those lizalfos in the woods. Took ‘em out. Didn’t see Sky or the vet, though. And I didn’t notice any… any blood.”

“Maybe they got chased off?” Warriors suggested. “They could’ve gone far to shake off the lizalfos. That would explain why they haven’t made their way back yet.”

“Even so, we should search for them,” said Time, turning toward the tree line. “They could be in trouble.”

“I’ll go,” Warriors said immediately, standing up and pointedly ignoring how his injured leg shook.

“No, you’re still hurt.”

“Nearly all of us are hurt. I can still fight.”

Time and Warriors shot back and forth several more times before Hyrule stood with a sigh. “I’m gonna go find my sword and shield,” he announced before setting off toward the river.

“I’ll come with you!” Wind immediately jumped up, jogging after the traveler.

Twilight watched them go before turning toward Warriors and Time, trying to think of a way to settle their argument. He stopped halfway when a distant sound pricked at his ears. He quickly turned back, peering downriver as his ears twitched. Sharp s’s and t’s. A low creaking noise that could have been a groan. He stood up, narrowing his eyes.

“Rancher?” he heard Wild ask but he ignored the champion in favor of listening to the voices.

“They’re back,” he realized. No sooner had the words left his mouth then two figures appeared around the bend in the river, moving toward the bridge slowly. Too slowly. Twilight took off toward the figures at a jog. “They’re back!”

He heard shuffling from behind him followed by a grunt that sounded like Warriors. Time ordered the captain to sit down before hurrying to catch up to Twilight, the two running to meet Sky and Legend.

Sky raised a hand and waved a bit weakly. Then he stumbled slightly, hand darting down to gingerly press against his side. Twilight’s heart jumped into his throat and he put more speed into his steps. As he drew closer, he saw blood speckling the left side of Sky’s tunic, steps hitching as he walked. Mud absolutely coated Legend, only one arm and the left side of his face clear through the muck. Legend looked up blearily, eyes taking a moment too long to focus on Time and Twilight. Then his gaze slid beyond them and his eyes shot wide open.

“Cook!” he shouted, breaking into an unsteady run. Sky did as well, but he stumbled and nearly toppled over, wrapping an arm around his ribs and hissing.

“I’m good,” Wild called, but that didn’t stop Sky and Legend from hurrying over to him. Twilight reached out to support Legend as he brushed past, but the veteran flapped a hand, staggering to a kneel before Wild.

“Goddesses, Cook,” he said breathlessly. “Did you decide to take a bath in blood?”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Wild replied as Legend checked him over with slightly trembling hands. “Did you decide to take a bath in mud?”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Legend snapped, pulling back after determining Wild was uninjured.

“What ha… wh… what h-“ Sky broke off into a cough, “-happened?”

“Got stabbed but then I got healed,” Wild said quickly. “I’m fine now. Are you guys okay?”

“Stabbed?” Sky wheezed before coughing again.

“Yeah, but I’m fine. All good. What happened to you?”

“I-“ Sky stumbled and tipped over backwards. Twilight yelped and darted forward but Time was already there, catching Sky and gently lowering him to the ground. Sky gasped in a breath before it abruptly cut off with pain, face twisting and arms wrapping around his middle. A shout of worry alerted Twilight to Hyrule and Wind’s return, silver sword hilt gleaming over Hyrule’s shoulder.

“Let me see,” Warriors said. Sky slowly pulled his arms away and Warriors gingerly prodded around Sky’s ribs. Sky winced, biting his lip to stifle a whine. “I think your ribs are fractured. Does anyone have a potion?”

Twilight pulled out his potion but Sky shook his head, carefully withdrawing a half-empty red potion from his own pouch. Warriors investigated Sky’s lightly bleeding side as the Skyloftian struggled to uncork the bottle.

“What happened?” Warriors asked as he gently rolled up Sky’s tunic to reveal the wound. Angry red patches stretched across his skin, blood seeping sluggishly from deeper portions where the skin had stripped away. A deep frown pulled at Warriors’ mouth, eyes darkening in a way that made Twilight think he must have recognized that kind of wound. The captain said nothing, reaching into his pouch to fish out bandages.

“Hinox from my era,” Legend said. Twilight glanced over to see Legend had laid spread eagle out on the ground, Hyrule kneeling down to check him over. Legend swatted the traveler away. “They like throwing people. And bombs.”

“Did you get thrown, too?” Four asked as he hurried over to Sky to help him uncork the potion.

Legend rocked his head from side to side. “No. Was stuck in a mud pit the whole time. I’m not hurt, just overextended my magic. Stamina potion wore off.”

Twilight perked up at that. “Mud pit?”

“Yeah.” Legend rolled onto his side, peering up at Twilight. His eyes widened as he took in Twilight’s mud-splattered state. “Wait, you too?”

Twilight nodded. “I was trying to follow the sailor but we got separated then I heard-“

“Laughing,” Legend finished.

“I didn’t… didn… hear anything,” Sky remarked breathlessly, sipping at the potion as Warriors bandaged his side. “But you… you did, Rancher?”

“Yeah. I tried to find out where it was coming from but I stepped into the sinkhole and it stopped.”

Legend’s eyes widened even further. “Same here.”

“Nobody else heard it?” Twilight asked, glancing around. The others all shook their heads. Legend and Twilight stared at each other for a moment. Twilight found his gaze drifting to the fading pink in Legend’s hair while Legend’s eyes landed on Twilight’s wolf pelt. They were silent for a moment.

“Weird!” Legend exclaimed.

“Yeah, so strange!” Twilight responded.

“Guess we’ll never know why we’re the only two who could hear it!”

“What a mystery!”

The others all eyed the two of them suspiciously, apparently not convinced by their subtlety. Twilight coughed, turning to Sky.

“Anyway, Sky, are you feeling alright? I have a full potion if you need it.”

“No, I think… I think I’m okay now,” Sky said, carefully twisting his torso from side to side and taking a few deep breaths. His chest didn’t hitch anymore and Warriors had rolled his tunic back down, covering the bandages.

“Okay, just keep an eye on it,” Warriors said. “Let us know if that changes.”

Sky nodded and Legend groaned, flopping onto his back once more. “I’m more than ready to clean up and call it a day.”

“I wish we were in the rancher’s Hyrule,” Hyrule sighed. “I could use a soak in one of those Goron hot springs.”

“My era has hot springs, too,” Wild said.

“Yeah, but your hot springs are way up in the mountains and no sane person would travel through all the snow just for that,” Legend replied.

Wild looked mildly offended. “I go up there for them.”

Legend shot him a look. “Like I said.”

Wild scoffed and rolled his eyes while the others laughed.

“And you definitely could use a bath,” Warriors snickered, moving from Sky to Legend to ruffle the veteran’s hair. “This mud color doesn’t really compliment your flowery hair.”

Legend swatted the captain’s hand away with a scowl. He opened his mouth to respond but stopped short, a glint entering his eye and smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe not, but you know what I think it would go great with?”

Warriors arched a brow, planting one hand on his hip. “What-“ He cut himself off with a shriek as Legend suddenly sprang up, mud-caked arms outstretched and a devilish grin on his face. Warriors lunged away, or at least attempted to. His injured leg gave out from under him and sent him sprawling to the ground. He twisted onto his back, holding out both hands as Legend loomed over him.

“Wait, wait, wait, you wouldn’t attack a wounded man!” he cried, waving his hands frantically.

Legend’s grin only grew. “I absolutely would.”

Warriors’ eyes widened but before Legend could descend on him, Wind tackled Legend from the side with a cry of, “Don’t worry, Captain, I’ll save you!” Legend lifted a mud-caked hand and dug his fingers into Wind’s hair, smearing it with mud and eliciting a sharp yelp of laughter from the sailor. Legend rolled as if to pin Wind beneath him but his eyes grew unfocused and he overshot, rolling over and off of Wind. Wind took Legend’s dizziness as an opportunity to pounce, uncaring that that only served to smear more mud onto him. But in rolling, Legend had moved closer to where Warriors was just beginning to stand. His arm shot out and snatched the captain’s elbow, yanking him back down with a yelp as he fell into the muddy heap. Twilight was half-surprised to hear a soft chuckle from beside him, glancing over to see Time’s eyes crinkling at the corners as he watched the scene. Twilight felt a grin tugging at his mouth as he looked back at the three, the others all having similar reactions.

“Now we’re really all going to need to wash up,” Twilight remarked.

“Yeah,” Four said. “We should probably stop those three before they get any dirtier.

“Probably.”

Nobody moved to stop them.

[majorproblems77]

Happy Pride Month :)

This is the fic I've been nervous to post because it's based on personal experiences. And how a friend of mine was the one to tell me about it first.

I hope you enjoy it

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

comin back to writing after having an (unwanted) (forceful) hiatus bc of homework trying to kill me to death be like . i yearn to write like a fish yearns for water but i have forgotten how to swim

[deadlydodos]

I know we’re all a big fan of Steve teaching the kids how to cook, but consider: Steve teaching Max how to cook, specifically post-V4 blind Max how to cook.

Steve noticing how annoyed Max gets when people treat her like a baby after she gets released.

Steve trawling through the Hawkins library for books on accounts of visually impaired people learning how to cook, and when that turns up nothing (because it’s Hawkins, come on) driving up to Indianapolis to find some in a bigger library.

Steve helping Max memorise where everything is in the kitchen and always keeping everything in the same place to help her find things.

Steve buying specialist equipment when he comes across it and brushing it off whenever Max mentions it.

Steve teaching Max to identify by smell and taste and most of all how to be careful, but also self sufficient and not having to rely on other people more then she wants to because god knows this girl is a stubborn little firecracker who is adamant she can do things herself still.

But most of all, consider Steve teaching Max to regain confidence in herself and her abilities one dish at a time.

[luvbug724]

while i am here i stayed up til 8am rereading icebreaker by a. l. graziadei yesterday for the first time since it came out & ive been offline because theres no fandom for it but i cant stop thinking abt mickey so ive been devouring any mindless book i can get my hands on. if u want a cute little YA romance abt sports & mental health it is probably up ur alley :) you :) read it :)

[yoharrysaidshe]

Just had a wild ass dream that Mike Faist was in an art house musical (porn) film circa 1920s and the final dance number turned into a threesome between him and two other men(?) (the other one seemed like a very gender nonconforming drag performer and it's what drew in Mike's character and the gnc character clocked his tea bad that he wasn't as straight as he was trying to come off as lmao) and it ended up with mike showing his hairy hole to the camera and me rewinding it multiple times to review said hole in dream wow c'est la vie