#lu fandom hear my roar

[for-a-muse-of-fire]

oh, but you’re good to me

the wench and the witcher

"oh, but you’re good to me”

Fandom: The Witcher (2019)

Paring: Geralt of Rivia x Black!OFC - Zahra Auberel. Platonic!Jaskier x Zahra.

Summary:  Midaëte brings the height of summer, and a reconciliation. 

Warnings: Rated Mature due to brief mention of sex. Please don’t interact if you are under the age of 18.

A/N: Well, what started as a simple reader insert character grew into a fully-formed OC through the course of this series. And now we have reached the end! Well, mostly. I have some random outtakes and drabbles that I’m sure will crop up, but my (eventual) multi-chapter will feature Geralt and Zahra as they navigate some... interesting magical developments. 

But, for now, I call this the end of The Wench and The Witcher. Thank you guys so much for your kind words, reblogs, likes - this is honestly the most I’ve written in years and knowing that y’all have enjoyed it warms the cockles of my heart. Title and lyrics under the cut from Hozier’s “Would That I” which I think might be my favorite Hozier song full-stop, hands down. 

@coconutxraikage - @onyour-right - @ly–canthrope - @kianya-loves - @c-s-stars - @gczanetti1 - @alwaysnatz - @agniavateira - @owillofthewisps​ - @hina-chans-stuff - @yespolkadotkitty​ - @wastingmypotential​ - @inber​

With each love I cut loose, I was never the same Watching still-living roots be consumed by the flame I was fixed on your hand of gold Layin' waste to my lovin' long ago

“Contracts from the butcher and the miller,” Lucja rattles off. “And Jaskier returned your message – says he’s very much looking forward to performing for the solstice festival.”

 She gives a hum as she thumbs through the stack of papers on the desk. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you, as well,” she teases.

 Lucja’s pretty round face goes pink, making her employer grin. The older woman pauses when she finds an unfamiliar piece of folded parchment among the stack of invoices. Slim brown fingers unfold the sharply folded letter and suddenly her heart is in her throat. “Lucja… where did this come from?”

 “Oh… it, ah, came with Jaskier’s reply. Do you want me to get rid of it?”

 Though half-tempted to let Lucja burn the letter, she bites her lip and shakes her head. “No,” she murmurs. “Thank you, Lu’ – that will be all.”

 Her young barmaid flashes a sympathetic smile and closes the door behind her. The neatly looped scrawl of the letter makes something around her heart ache. She’d always been surprised by how tidy the Witcher’s handwriting was:

 I don’t

 This isn’t what

 I’m not – fucking shit fuck 

 The first time I saw you, it was like walking into the light of the sun after half a lifetime in the cold. And it was so fucking cold that night.

 You were like summer.

 It’s cold again now, without you. I don’t know what I’m doing

 Two weeks later:

I wanted want wanted to bring you to see Kaer Mohren. I know you said you like the ocean more than the mountains, but I think this place could change your mind. You would get on with Eskel like a house on fire. He’s more of a southerner, like you.

 I told him about the time you tried to teach me to cook and he nearly pissed himself laughing.

 Lambert’s a shit. Vesemir already likes you.

 You’d like it here. The kitchen is nearly as big as the whole front room of the tavern. Library’s bigger.

 Garden’s a fucking nightmare, though.

 We could go to the ocean, too. Anywhere you want.

 The missives don’t come with any real regularity. A few at a time, a week-long gap, but they never stop. She thinks about writing back, at first, but deciphering where the Witcher is would likely be impossible and… gods, she’s still so damned angry. The White Wolf receives no reply.

Regardless, the letters keep coming.

 The thing is, I don’t know what else there is besides The Path - this life of slaying monsters and getting paid in coin. I was told that was all I needed and I believed it for a very long time. There was nothing to challenge that, not until I met you.

 You were are so fucking beautiful. And warm, and bright, and vulgar, and kind, and a pain in my ass and I should have told you how much you meant to me, but I couldn’t parse it out until just now, and I am an idiot. And a coward. I thought that telling myself you were an amusement would be enough, that I would be content with warming your bed, but I can’t do that anymore. I can’t keep lying about how much I need you.

 I need you, Zee. It feels like I’m missing my fucking sword arm.

 The words on the page blur together. She brushes them with her fingertips, almost smiling even as the tears catch in her lashes:

 I miss the way you laugh at Jaskier’s dirty songs.

 I miss the way you used my legs to keep your feet warm at night.

 I miss that fucking rabbit stew.

 I miss the way you’d look at me when I walked in the door.

 I miss the sounds you make when I’m inside of you. The way you taste.

 I miss your eyes. And your smile.

 Your voice. Your terrible fucking singing.

 You are my home. You’re my harbor and my safe haven.

 I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.

   ---

Midaëte approaches. With it, a week’s worth of festivities, and food and drink, leading up to the day of the solstice. It means early mornings in the kitchen and late nights in the tavern. The evenings are balmy, windows and doors thrown open to allow the scent of summer air and night-blooming flowers to drift through.

 For a time, she is so busy that she forgets to be heartsore. Geralt’s letters – page after yellowing page – sit tied with a gold ribbon in her desk drawer. Confessions and apologies, promises and rambling stories that she keeps picking up to read again and again. It’s a veritable book, more than he’d ever seen fit to say in person and she’s not sure whether to be infuriated or hopeful, but there’s barely time. Thank the gods.

  Business booms, between trades-folk coming in for the market day, then musicians, then families. She drinks a little, dances when there is time; she lets Lucja weave tiny yellow purple flowers into her hair for Midaëte Eve and dresses in white and yellow to enjoy the evening. Or try to, at least. The main room is full almost to bursting, patrons laughing, carousing, and eventually spilling out into the courtyard to dance in the falling dusk.

 Zahra watches from the doorway. A few try to tempt her into the circle for a reel and they receive a grateful smile with her refusal. Jaskier, however, will not be deterred.

 “You, dear lady,” he croons. “Look too lovely to be hiding in the shadows.”

 “Jas…”

 “One dance. Just one – you might even have fun by mistake.”

 She rolls her eyes, but the bard just grins and lifts her hand for a kiss. He leads her, hand-in-hand out to the courtyard; Jaskier gives a nod to his fellow players and they begin with a sharp beat that eases into a lovely, familiar melody.

 “You know this one, ducky?” Jaskier queries with a smile. She nods and he takes the lead.

 It’s a simple step, to start with. A sweet back and forth to match the sweet, flowing verse of the song. The touch of Jaskier’s hand on her low back offers guidance, keeps her moving in gentle circles around him until the real movement begins. Swinging, agile steps carry Zahra and her partner around in wide loops. The mingle with other dancers, threading hands to spin back together and then apart.

 Jaskier grips her waist across the front, and she follows suit. The dizzying spin turns the world into a wash of summer colors for a moment and she can’t help but laugh. It feels good to be light again.

 The bard turns her under his arm and into the hands of the next man. There’s a moment of hesitation, a moment where she considers bowing out and going back to her corner, but the tabor still thrums in her blood and it’s such a beautiful night.

 Still smiling, she curtsies, and is lead back through the steps again. Her partner leads easily, light of foot and loose of tongue – from her ale, more like than not – but he’s kind, and sweet, and so funny that she’s nearly in tears when she’s suddenly spun away to her next partner. She catches the fabric of her skirts to add a flourish to the spin; the soft yellow cotton dances with her.

 When spins to a stop, she sees black, at first. Matte black buttons, black tunic shirt – worn, but cleaner than it usually is. The silver wolf’s head medallion sparks in the torchlight.

 Zahra looks up into the face of Geralt of Rivia and the music goes dull behind the roar of blood in her ears. It feels a bit like standing on a ledge cliff and looking down to gauge the fall. She feels dizzy, and terrified, and wonderfully breathless. Heart in her mouth, she spies Jaskier out of the corner of her eye.

 The bard grins. Bastard.

 “Zahra…”

 The Witcher’s voice rumbles through her like soft summer thunder. Strong fingers grip hers, and he lifts her knuckles to his lips. His honey-gold eyes are more earnest and honest than she’s ever seen them – he asks the question without moving his lips. Zahra nods.

 Geralt leads her in the dance and everything falls away.

  She hears the music, feels it sing through her, but her focus remains on the white-haired mutant at her side. His hand spans her back, warm through her dress and stays; the lightest pressure of his fingertips, or palm, guides her to turn, or step, or pivot in time with him. It shouldn’t be surprising to her, how well he moves – she’s seen him fight, and his grace with a sword, and how would dancing be any different?  He doesn’t look away from her once and the heat of his gaze flushes over her. The Witcher very nearly smiles.

 Geralt turns her under his arm, guides her through the last few measures of the song. He steps away, takes his warmth with him, and bows. Zahra curtsies in return.

 The crowd, the rest of the world, rushes back over them. The townsfolk whistle, and stomp, for a moment determined to swarm in and start up another country dance, and Geralt grips her hand tight for a moment. She sees him hesitate before he asks, simply, “Can we talk?”

 Most of the party has spilled into the streets, leaving the tavern itself practically empty. Lucja still keeps to her spot behind the bar, green eyes going wide when she spies Zahra and her guest in tow. The girl’s pretty face splits into a knowing smile that makes Zahra’s face go hot.

 It’s mostly dark in her study. The small hearth fire has gone to smoldering embers, and it gives her the opportunity to light a few candles and collect her utterly scattered thoughts. She flicks out the last taper and finally looks up at Geralt. He stands just inside the closed door, just as he used to. It’s familiar – it feels like it’s been years, or decades, or maybe just a few hours. His honey-colored gaze still holds a heat that sings over her skin. She drops her eyes to the desk.

 The last letter sits there, creased and folded from how many times she’s read it. Zahra picks at the parchment. Keeping her focus on Geralt’s neat lettering seems easier than looking at the Witcher himself. “Did Jaskier put you up to this?” she teases half-heartedly.

 Geralt exhales on a chuckle. “Something like. Threatened to garrote me with a lute string.”

 She smiles, in spite of herself. When she lifts her head and meets his eyes, it takes a moment to catch her breath. For a few heartbeats, she simply stares. Gods, he is still so beautiful. She swallows hard and feels her throat go dry.

 “Did you mean what you wrote?” she asks.

 “You know I did, Zee.”

Gold eyes go guarded again. He doesn’t go totally cold, but she can see the way he builds up his walls to prepare for the worst. He steps forward. Second-guesses – stops.

 “What I do – what I am – I can’t change it,” he rumbles. “I’m still a Witcher, Zahra. A mutant. I can’t… I can’t give you normal, sweetheart – ”

 “Gods, Geralt - fuck normal.”

 ---

 “Fuck normal.”

 She says it with such passionate certainty that it startles a laugh out of him. The soft yellow of her skirt floats like woven sunlight around her legs. Like the sun, it almost hurts to look at her, but fuck all, that’s all he wants to do. He watches her face, watches her chew her lip; feels his slow pulse try to speed up when she steps closer. His fingers itch to curl around her waist.

 “I never asked for normal, Geralt,” she whispers. The way her voice cracks pulls tight around his heart. “I don’t want normal. I want you. That’s it. Can… can you give me that, or no?”

 The Witcher’s footfalls carry him to her. He studies her face; re-acquaints himself with the curve of her cheek and the dimple that presses there. She all but melts into his touch when his thumb brushes her cheek. He pulls her into the circle of his arms. She’s still soft, and warm; he closes his eyes, feels his muscles go lax with relief when she holds fast, locking her arms around his back. Geralt presses his face against the smooth curve of her shoulder.

 It feels like stepping into the light of the sun after ages in cold and rain. “I love you, Zahra,” he breathes.

 Her soft, tearful laugh settles warm into his heart. “I love you, Geralt.”

 He gives a pleased murmur, lets the tip of his nose trail lazy circles over her shoulder. When he inhales, the warm, soft smell of her skin eases back into his lungs. From shoulder to neck, the Witcher draws in slow breaths and ghosts his lips over the exposed skin he finds until Zahra shivers. “What are you doing, Witcher?” she whispers, breathless.

 “Hmm… taking your scent back,” he mumbles. “I missed this smell.”

 His lips ease along the shell of her ear. She still gasps when he nips at the crux of her jaw. “I missed you, love,” he growls.

 Geralt takes his time. He savors the smell and the taste of her skin, humming lowly when Zahra’s hands grip at his back. The sweetness of her begins to bloom with heat, with the richness of desire – want – and when he sets his teeth gently against her pulse point, she moans delicately.  Insistent fingers tangle in his hair; she whispers his name and pulls him to her lips. She kisses him like a woman starved and it feels like his heart might thunder its way free of his chest. He lifts her onto the edge of the desk and comes to stand between her parted thighs, gathering the soft yellow cotton of her skirts up. Her fingers yank at the buttons on his trousers.

  It’s a quick, desperate of coupling. Mingled breath and bitten off sighs – greedy kisses with fingers gripped in the front of his shirt. She flutters hotly around his cock with a whimper and a curse. He groans against her mouth when he comes. Zahra drinks down the noise with a grin on her lips.

 Geralt stays put for more than a year. It’s good.

 The Path still calls, and he still follows, but she finds she’s able to let go of the fear. It’s no longer a question of ‘if’ but ‘when’ in terms of Geralt’s return. And if he knows it’s going to be a long journey, or if the mood simply strikes him, he writes -

 I miss you.

 I love you.

 Sometimes no more than a line, sometimes full paragraphs – even pages –  but he always tells her when he plans to return. When he’ll be home.

 It’s nearly spring next time he rides back in, market day in full swing as he passes through the township gate with Roach at his side. Vendors call their wares, families and merchants wander the stalls as he peers out from the shadow of his cloak. He finds the trail of Zahra’s scent past the cloying smell of cut flowers and rounds to corner to find her chatting with the butcher’s daughter.

 The younger woman catches his gaze. Geralt watches the girl grin and give his woman – his woman – a nudge, nodding in his direction. Zahra is already smiling when she turns, and the Witcher has the pleasure of watching her face flash from surprise to joy in the space of a heartbeat. She moves to him, a walk that becomes a jog, and then a final sprint that launches her into his arms. He curls his free arm tight around her waist. Immediately, he has his face pressed to her hair. Zahra’s laughter rings softly in his ears when she draws back, just enough to look up into his face.

 At her throat, the polished wolf’s tooth is bright against her brown skin. “Welcome home, my love,” she murmurs.

 The greeting settles warm over him like the sunlight. Geralt pulls her close again, kissing her in full view of half the town. She shivers sweetly in his arms and pulls her fingers through his hair. He hears a wolf-whistle, and a smattering of applause that makes Zahra giggle against his mouth.

 “People are staring,” she teases softly.

 He smirks. “Let them,” he tells her before kissing her once more. She tastes of clover honey.

 She smells of sunshine.

 She feels like home.

[holylulusworld]

X-Mas tree shopping Winchester style

Summary: Dean promises to buy a Christmas tree only to mess up epically.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Jack Kline

Warnings: a hint of angst, fluff

“Okay…how about that one?” Showing Sam, an air freshener for his car in shape of a tree Dean smirks. “I bet she will like it. No effort to decorate the little bastard.

“Dude, if you buy that one, Y/N will a) never have sex with you again and b) kill you for sure.” Sam points toward the Christmas tree lot outside of the store. “She wants a real tree, not that rubbish. Let’s look over there and get a nice one for the bunker.”

Pouting Dean glances at the air freshener before he puts it into the shopping cart. “I’ll buy that little tree, just in case.” Dean lies, planning to put it in his car.

“Fine, buy it but hurry up. At least ten people are checking the trees out. We want to get a nice one for Y/N.” Sam is hastily tossing all the things you put on your Christmas list into the shopping cart, ignoring Dean’s annoyed look.

“Calm, Sammy…breathe. I bet that guy has enough trees for whole Lebanon. I’ll get a nice tree for my girl and she will let me do dirty things to her under that amazing tree…”

Chuckling Dean walks toward the checkout, busy glancing at the Christmas tree lot as only a few trees are left.

—-

“Fuck, Dean. Slow down, man. The bags are heavy.” Panting Sam tries to follow his brother while he carries three bags full of groceries. “Why can’t we put the stuff into the trunk first?”

“Look!” Pointing at the Christmas tree lot Dean curses. “He only got three left. Hurry up, Sammy. My girl…oh…shit…only two…” Now Dean starts running as Sam gives up, slowly following Dean.

“Dean…”

Sam must watch Dean fighting over the best tree with a way taller guy. “You don’t understand…” Dean tries to make the man understand you will never have sex with him, but the man is already paying the tree, ignoring Dean’s offer to pay him way more money.

“Dude! I told you to buy the tree first…” Sam has to rub salt into Dean’s wound as the hunter holds a tiny, pitiful tree in his hands. It’s the last one, the one no one else wanted.

“I know…” A deep sigh leaves Dean’s lips as he pays for the tree, knowing he will catch hell from you for not buying a nicer tree. “Y/N will hate me. I messed up, Sammy. It’s all my fault. If only I would’ve listened to you.”

While Dean carries the little tree toward the Impala Sam glances at his brother’s pained expression. Dean hates to disappoint you. He promised you the most beautiful tree and now he got a tiny one.

“It’s still a nice tree, Dean. It’s fresh, smells good and the needles are green…”

Sam tries to calm his brother, but Dean is devastated. He disappointed his girl, and nothing can lighten his mood.

—-

“That’s nice decoration, I like the popcorn chain.” Jack swoons glancing at the decoration you tinkered over the last weeks. “Oh, that’s a nice Christmas bulb…” Carefully picking the red Christmas bulb up Jack smiles.

“It’s the only one surviving. All I got left of my grandma’s Christmas decoration.” Explaining to Jack you cherish this little leftover you watch him carefully putting it back onto the table.

“Do you think we’ve got enough decoration?” Castiel looks at the few pieces of decoration you gathered and imagines a huge tree. “Shall we get more?”

“I don’t know…Cas.” Chewing at your lower lip you hear the familiar roar of the Impala fill the silence. “Let’s check on the tree first. Maybe I’ll find more stuff if we need it.”

“Great…” Jack is smiling once again as Dean enters the library with hanging shoulders and a beautiful but small tree in his arms.

“Dean…that’s…” Dean sighs as he glances at the decoration and then at you. “I know that little guy is …” Squealing you run toward Dean, taking the little tree out of his hands to have a closer look.

The tree is small, but you can see it’s fresh, and the smell is intense. Its color is dark green and you know it will look perfect on the table you prepared for it.

“Perfect…” You hand Castiel the tree before jumping into Dean’s arms to pepper kisses all over his face. “That little guy will look great on the table…look.”

Dean is stunned and doesn’t know what to say as you point toward one of the library tables. You placed a red tablecloth with little reindeers on it.

“You like that little bastard?” Still not believing you like the tiny tree Dean cocks his head to watch Castiel putting it into the Christmas tree stands.

“I messed up, Sweetheart. Too busy buying the other things I waited too long and only the little guy was left. I’m sorry. No one else wanted the tree.” Dean is sighing heavily as you grab his hand to squeeze it.

“Dean, we are a family of people no one else wanted. Cas got kicked out of heaven. Jack is Lucifer’s son and me - my own family believes they are better off without me. My parents still think I’m nuts as I told them vampires attacked them, not burglars. Only my grandma loved me.” Slinging your arms around Dean’s neck you brush your lips over his.

“You like the tree?” Sam chuckles as you nod eagerly.

“The little tree matches our family, Sammy. Unwanted but still so beautiful. Let’s decorate it and take a picture. I bet our tree is the most beautiful in the whole of Lebanon.”

While Jack, Sam and you decorate the tree Dean smiles, silently watching you and his family. Castiel nods at his friend, knowing he was worried about the tree.

“It’s a nice tree, Dean. Don’t you worry, my friend. Y/N loves it.”

The angel can feel your happiness as you decorate the tree with your family.

It doesn’t matter to you it’s the smallest tree you ever saw, it’s your family’s tree and nothing else matters…

SPN Forever Tags

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Dean/Jensen Forever Tags     

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[ao3feed-zukka]

mastering the art of just going with it

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2OPplg6

by ciitadel

He was caught on one word that Sokka had said. Engaged. His mind latched onto that, and conjured up images of rings and a wedding. Marriage.

Sokka kept talking, but Zuko couldn’t hear him over the blood roaring in his ears. If he had been engaged to marry an American citizen, he wouldn’t have to go back to Japan and wait to refile for another work visa. He could stay here, and never have to see his father again.

Zuko’s gaze roamed over Sokka. He wasn’t married, or seeing anyone, Zuko knew that. Sokka always complained about being single, and the one time he had gone on a date in their past several years of working together, Sokka hadn’t shut up about it for a week. Zuko would know if Sokka was currently seeing anyone, and he wasn’t.

There it was. His way out.

aka the au of The Proposal for zukka we never knew we needed

Words: 8919, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Sokka (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), Katara (Avatar), Hakoda (Avatar), Aang (Avatar), Suki (Avatar), Toph Beifong, Lu Ten, Iroh (Avatar), Zhao (Avatar), Kanna (Avatar)

Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Aang/Katara (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (past), Sokka/Yue (past)

Additional Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, fake engagement, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Bending (Avatar TV), so yall know the movie the proposal, yeah so this is that, but with like my own spin on things, zuko is kind of a dick at least in the beginning, but not as bad as he was in s1, zuko is a bastard emo man, sokka didn't study business for this shit

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2OPplg6

[jinmukangwrites]

Graceful

The third and final instalment to the Grace Trilogy. We’ve come a long way bois.

Summary: sometimes, things take a turn for the worse, and the world feels like it’s falling apart. Wild’s always jumped at the chance to save someone else, but what happens when the favor is returned?

Warinings: To avoid spoilers, they’re in the tags.

Note: I gotta dedicate this. Like. I absolutely have to. This whole series I want to dedicate to @spacemalarkey​ and @fox-moblin​. Linni, I cannot thank you enough for how much you do for me, for always thinking of me and including me and being my go to person for bouncing ideas off. You helped with with so much and I swear you have been here since the beginning and that’s something I will always be grateful for. Ort, gal, my pal, my favorite cryptid, I love you, you are such an inspiration and your creativity always inspires me to try to be better with my own works. I wouldn’t be where I am today if you hadn’t read Grace and deemed it good enough to reblog haha. Anyway, just wanted to say thanks to you two. It’s not like I’m not writing LU anymore lol, gonna keep writing for this amazing fandom. This fic just feels like a testament to how far I’ve come since Grace.

Anyway, who wants to cry?

-o-o-o-o-

At first, Twilight didn’t understand.

Before, he always questioned it. He would lie awake for hours into the night, tossing and turning on his sleeping mat, blankets tangling his legs and sweat dripping from his brow. Nightmare’s haunted him because of it, nightmares of a wild hearted boy jumping in front of a spear, in front of an invincible monster, in front of Twilight himself, to ultimately fall to the ground and never get back up, blood pooling besides the body.

Twilight never understood. He never understood why Wild was so ready and raring to put himself in the path of a killing blow, or any blow for that matter. He says it’s because he has the ability to come back and he may as well be the one to die and revive than Wind or Sky or Warrior or whoever that won’t come back.

Don’t get Twilight wrong. If someone else was in danger, he would gladly risk his life to save them. But that’s the game changer right there. Risk. Not willingly give away. Twilight believes in finding a way for everyone to survive. It was never about dying for his friends and country, it was about simply saving it.

Wild is hard wired about dying for it.

And Twilight didn’t understand.

He’s argued about it on multiple occasions. Ever since that first time where Wild took his own life to simply return stronger and finish the job, Twilight has found ways to argue about it. Thankfully, Wild eventually understood that letting himself die was heartbreaking for everyone there and a total abuse towards Mipha and her gift, but he’s still reckless. Reckless enough to get his neck snapped by a ball and chain. Reckless enough to push Sky out of the way of a charging bull and get hit himself. Reckless enough to take the arrow he saw heading towards Time’s head. Enough to get Four out of a booby trapped cavern first and ultimately get crushed by tons and tons of earth. Enough to pull Hyrule off from cracking ice and drown as a result, to eat an apple gifted to Warrior’s from a shady figure to prove it was poisoned, to charge unprepared into an enemy camp to save the newest hostage named Legend.

And he doesn’t do these things only for the group, but for innocent bystanders and travelers too.

Twilight would yell and yell Wild’s ear off whenever the little gremlin got himself hurt for others. He could have easily warned Sky or Time to get out of the way. Could have worked together with Four to get out quickly. Could of pulled Hyrule and himself off the ice. Could of could of could of. Wild never seemed to understand that risking your life is not always the first option. Still never understands it. He has this gift to come back from the dead and it’s gotten into his thick skull that if he can solve a particularly difficult problem by simply taking the blow and coming back, he’ll take it and there is nothing wrong with it.

Twilight never understood. It’s gotten Wild angry with him. Wild would try to make Twilight understand and Twilight would just get more and more agitated until finally they are separated via Time’s orders so they can calm down and call it a night.

Twilight would say how much he cares for Wild and he doesn’t want to see him dead. Wild would shoot back the same sentence with so much ferocity that Twilight is forced to let it go. At least he isn’t killing himself like he had done the first time, Twilight says to himself, at least he’s accepting health potions and fairies for his injuries even when they’re low in supply. At least Wild isn’t literally killing himself to save them.

But it isn’t stopping him from willingly and thoughtlessly putting himself in danger.

Twilight never understood.

He understands now.

There’s fire. And a lot of it.  Twilight has only heard about the beasts that they’re up against, only seen the dead carcasses littering the plains and forests of Wild’s world.

“They’re all dead,” Wild had said with a almost reverent certainty the first time they had stumbled upon a corpse of a Guardian, “they died when Zelda and I defeated Calamity Ganon. All they’re good for now is scraps.”

A lot of strange stuff has been going on lately with all their worlds. They should have guessed, or at least prepared, for the possibility of one waking up and attacking. But they didn’t prepare. None of them, not even Wild himself, were ready for when the first eye blinked open with a menacing red flash and pushed itself out from the rubble that has tried to bury it over the years. A blood colored laser blinked to life and trained itself within moment’s onto Wind, a steady heartbeat of beeping piercing into the air, and Twilight, everyone, was frozen in spot because of fear, terror, horror, all those fun emotions. Thankfully, Wild knocked himself out of it pretty quickly, muscle memory forcing his hands to his bow before his brain could catch up. He loaded an arrow and shot it at the mechanical monster’s eye and a zing echoed in the air as the Guardian stumbled backwards on its eight legs, startled, but not a scratch.

“Run!” Wild screamed.

And oh, they did. Or they really tried to. If the Hero of the Wild was screaming at you to haul ass out of a fight you better listen. They would have probably gotten away before the Guardian found its bearings, but they were stopped in their tracks as another metal beast crawled over a close by hill, dragging a single injured leg behind it with its five remaining ones, it’s laser trained on Time who was leading the retreat.

So the next, logical, thing to do would be to turn and run to the left or the right, but a third Guardian, barely scooting across the ground with two working limbs, crawled from the side and the first one was now recovered and they found themselves surrounded, fighting their way out quickly becoming the only option out of this. The laser pointing at Time fired and they all jumped out of the way but the explosion sent them flying into different directions and the flames lit the ground despite how the morning dew still coated the grass.

They scrambled, Time stumbling from a very nasty burn on his leg and Four clutching his arm to his chest towards a particularly large boulder on the other side of the Guardian that had just fired at them. The other two had their lasers trained, the one that had fired was beginning the process of loading up its weapon. It was the safest route.

They thankfully managed to dodge around the second guardian towards the boulder and get behind the makeshift shelter before any shots can hit them. The boulder shook from the pure force of the deadly projectile hitting it straight on and fire blasted around the corners, making Sky (who was closest to the edge) cry out in shock as the flames licked his sailcloth.

“What do we do?” Time demanded, already they can hear the heavy steps of the monsters figuring out where their prey had gotten to. They had minutes at most to make a plan before the Guardians realized that they didn’t disappear, but were hiding.

The tortured, panicked, wide-eyed look Wild gave Time almost broke Twilight’s heart. The kid was always so sure about himself. Always having some sort of plan no matter how reckless or crazy it was. Right now, Wild looked lost, scared.

“Take them out one at a time?!” Wild said, his voice an octave higher than it’s normal range. “I don’t know! I’ve never fought three at the same time! I- go for the legs, the Master Sword would be best but any strong weapon will do. If it aims at you, fire it’s eye. Get them immobile- I-”

Wild looked at the verge of a panic attack, his eyes glistened and a hand went up to his arm, his scarred arm, like he was trying to pull himself together.

Another explosion hits the boulder, and another right after. Twilight brought his hands to his head as the structure behind them shook and chunks of rock fell down on them. They’ve ran out of time. The Guardian’s know that they’re there, and they want a fight.

“Sky,” Time barked over the roaring sound of fire around them, “take the Master Sword and get the legs of the least injured one. Wild, go with him. You’ll shoot the eye. Twilight, Four, and Legend, you three get two legged one, work together to get it’s legs. Legend, you’re on eye duty. Wind, Hyrule, Warrior, you’re with me. Wind, you’re in charge of the eye.”

At that was it. A barely thought out plan that everyone hardly had any time to agree or disagree to before a final blast broke their boulder in two. Everyone ran into battle, crying out, splitting off to their assigned enemies without a second thought.

And that’s where they are now. Fighting for their life.

Legend is a master of the bow. Not as good as Wild, but good enough. Good enough to release an arrow mid run and hit their target head on. Four bolted forward, lifting his sword into the air and jamming it into the first leg of the monster. Gears screeched together as the Guardian stumbles, but Twilight doesn’t wait for it to recover before he too is beginning his attack.

For a second, it all goes good. There is only two working legs and Four and Twilight each, with the support of Legend released an arrow every few moments, manage to shatter both of them. The Guardian crumbles to the ground, leaving it open for them to attack it’s body and within minutes, the eye shatters and blinks pitifully, metal bits falling as if relaxing in death.

For a second, Twilight thinks that maybe everything will be okay.

That was his mistake.

Because right after that second, Wind is screaming in pain as the guardian they were fighting manages to make a blow before Wind could stun it. Twilight spins on heel and takes in the complete chaos across from him. Time is rolling on the ground violently because of a leg that hit him, Hyrule is just managing to dodge to frantic legs above him, and Wind is scrambling to his feet, clutching his side, blood dripping down his forehead and fire singing his tunic.

Then another explosion shakes the ground as a misfired laser from the Guardian Wild and Sky are tag teaming on just manages to miss the group but explodes the earth past them, fire and debris shooting into the air like an evil monster itself, spreading it’s tendrils to destroy everything it touches.

The Guardian Sky is working on is thankfully stunned and injured thanks to a particularly nasty arrow sticking out at an odd angle in its eye, but it’s now firing rapidly, its four remaining legs frantically trying to find purchase.

“Legend- Four-” Twilight starts.

“On it, Twi,” Four says, grabbing Legends hand and rushing towards Time and the others. Twilight swallows and sprints in the opposite direction, towards Wild who is dodging out of the way of a misfired laser that almost didn’t miss.

Twilight grabs the bow on his back and shoots the Guardian again, hitting right in the middle of its eye and shattering the glass just a bit more. The metal creature seems to groan as its head spins around desperately looking for its target, but it jolts to the side as the Master Sword takes out yet another leg.

Wild nods in thanks and loads his own bow, firing at the eye, and Twilight rushes forwards, re taking his sword and slamming it into one of the remaining legs. There’s a couple close calls, this Guardian is a lot more fidgety and trigger happy than the other one Twilight somehow managed to defeat, but eventually, the last leg shatters with a mighty swing from Sky’s sword and the thing comes crashing down to the earth with a thud, firing fearfully into the air.

Wild runs forward and slams his sword down into it’s eye, sinking his weapon down into the hilt. Glass shatters and the Guardian shutters, blinking sadly, and shutting off with a pitiful whir.

Okay, Twilight thinks, now it can all get better now. There’s one left and Wild said he can fight these things one on one. He turns, Sky walking next to him, Wild climbing down from the dead beast.

The other guardian is literally on its last leg with the combined efforts of the rest of the group, it’s laser is blinking on Legend, who’s standing in front of an injured Wind, but Legend has his bow trained and is at that second releasing his arrow. His aim is true, but Twilight knows right then that something is horribly wrong.

The last Guardian’s laser was too loaded, too powered up to be simply shut off. It is knocked backwards, and the last leg breaking courtesy of Hyrule made it so it was looking directly at Wild when it finally released that explosive energy.

Twilight didn’t think. But in that moment, he understood.

He finally understood.

It the heat of the moment, Twilight didn’t have time to think about the options. About the consequences. About the ways everyone will make it out alive. He just surged forward, grabbed Wild by the shoulders, and shoved the kid behind him.

And then heat. Fire.

Agony.

His ears are ringing. He can’t breath. His skin feels hot and cold at the same time for a second and then he can feel nothing at all. Numbness takes over, and he’s left choking for air, staring up at the sky blocked by smoke. Orange flames lick the corner of his vision and that’s all he’s aware of. The fire. The smoke. The knives stabbing into his lungs with every breath he tries to take, even as the blurry outline of hands grab onto his tunic and drags him away from the fire.

The edges of his sight blur, his chest shutters, and he blinks and blinks and blinks until he can’t no more.

The last thing he’s aware of is Wild kneeling over him, trails of wetness glistening red with the fire running down his cheeks. There’s a cut on his chin, hair a little singed, but otherwise okay.

He’s okay.

And Twilight understands.

And with that, all the pain and worry leaves Twilight, and he enters the blackness of unconsciousness without any resistance.

-o-o-o-o-

At first, Time didn’t know what… drew him towards Twilight.

From the first moment Time laid his eyes on the kid, he knew he would do anything to protect him, even before he figured out Twilight is a descendant. There’s just something about him that makes Time go crazy with protective urges and… almost attempts at parental guidance.

Time cares for each of the heroes on their group. Each have something so incredibly special about them, and their youth didn’t help with Time’s slow descent into “Dad Friend” territory, but Twilight was something… different.

If it was the way the kid instantly worried about others before himself, or the way he fought with a feral viciousness, or the intelligence that was always present in his gaze… whatever the case, Time eventually found that he saw himself in Twilight. And instead of that being a comfort, it made him almost go insane with worry. He wanted nothing more than to teach the kid to be himself, to not worry so much, to take the moment as it came, but he could never find the moments to teach those. Plus, Twilight always looked at him with a gaze that screams: “Don’t even start with me, old man” before he can even work up the courage to talk to him about it.

It takes a lot of courage to scold Twilight.

More courage than what Time had.

He planned to maybe leave him for Malon to chew out the next time they ended up at the ranch. Perhaps corner him in a quiet forest. Possibly just spit it out on the trail. Get him to understand that he’s young, and he doesn’t need to worry about everything, all the time, all day. He doesn’t need to swing his sword so hard, doesn’t need to lose sleep over other’s problems, doesn’t need to remember he has his own issues he should work out until it’s too late.

What a load of good those plans turned out to be, especially since Twilight is practically on his deathbed.

Or the “on the road” equivalent to it.

It’s a race against the clock, a race that Time can’t help but feel like they are losing. They were not prepared for a battle like Wild’s Guardians, they were not prepared for wounds or cuts or third degree burns. With the world constantly fading and morphing around them, they sometimes don’t have enough red potions or fairies for a broken leg, let alone burns so horrid that the scarred, blistering tissue of Twilight’s body outnumbers the unblemished.

One red potion. Courtesy of Four. Enough to stop most of the bleeding, but the burns are still so bad that Twilight is stuck in a perpetual fever and it’s only getting worse.

They have to find civilization, and fast.

And it doesn’t help that the world is no longer Wild’s, and no one recognizes the forest around them. The most they can do is walk until somebody recognizes where they are, the constant worry of maybe a town is in the opposite direction nagging at each of their brains.

Maybe they are somewhere in Twilight’s time, and none of them would know until they either find civilization or Twilight wakes up.

Finding civilization seems more likely.

Time winces when Warrior stumbles a little, jostling the makeshift stretcher they made with blankets, branches, and rope to tie it all together. Everyone has injuries, and with the single health potion being used to buy Twilight more time, Warrior is forced to push through a sprained ankle. Wind is the worst off from them all, sporting painful burns on his side and chest and various other cuts. He has a fever and is now half delirious from pain and exhaustion, forced to be carried along on the back of Sky. He isn’t in… immediate danger. He still needs medical attention. The rest of them thankfully all just have minor scrapes and bruises, a burn here and there but not enough to do much more than sting persistently.

Besides Twilight and Wind, it’s the emotional wounds that Time is more worried about.

Especially Wild.

Who hasn’t said a word in over five hours.

And there isn’t much Time can do about it. All Time can do is reposition his grip on the stretcher, ask Warrior if he needs to switch with someone, and let Four quickly check over Twilight.

“How is he?” Time asks.

Four sighs and pulls his hand away from Twilight’s forehead. The answer is in his pinched eyebrows and red rimmed eyes. “He needs help, old man,” Four replies softly after a second.

Time nods. And they continue their walk, because there is nothing more that they can do.

Time tries not to think about Wild, a few paces behind, hugging his arms around his body like he will crumble.

The walk continued, and no signs of human life ever presented itself. Warrior eventually had to switch with Legend so he could lean on Hyrule and give his injured ankle a much needed break. The walking only got slower from there, the weight of the stretcher and the body placed upon it only seemed to get heavier.

The sun travels. The forest continues.

Twilight begins to vomit blood in his sleep.

And that’s when any hope in the group shattered.

They were forced to stop. Moving Twilight any more would just quicken the inevitable. A grim mood falls over the group and the realization that unless help found them, Twilight is not going to make it. The least they could do is… make sure it’s not too painful.

They made a nest for him and placed him a generous distance away from the fire to not overheat him but also not to let the bite of the cooling night creep in too much. The mood of the group is grim. Time puts it upon himself to keep everyone together despite him wanting to break down himself. He stopped Hyrule from stomping off into the forest, a sword at his hip. He made sure Wind wasn’t alone as he sulked by the campfire by sending Four over to talk to him, maybe encourage him to allow them to change his bandages. He broke apart the argument Legend was trying to start with Sky for no reason at all. Warrior has closed in on himself and has announced that he will continue walking into the forest to find help, but Time forced him to sit down so he could better look at his ankle, trying to will Warrior to understand that there is nothing in their power to do, no matter how it pains the both of them.

Wild is at Twilight’s bedside. A solid arms distance away. Curled up in himself and simply staring at the bandages and scarred flesh.

Time may have told himself that he will make sure everyone is together and okay this night, but for many reasons he just couldn’t bring himself to quite confront Wild yet. He didn’t see what happened, but he saw the aftermath, and Sky saw it so he was told the details in quiet whispers a little while after. Twilight shoved Wild out of the way so he could protect the younger from the misfired blast of a Guardian.

Wild blames himself. Time doesn’t have any doubts about it. Wild is so ready to risk his life for others, but the second someone does it for him he goes to a place so deep in his own mind that Time isn’t sure that he can pull him back out without a fight. This is why Time has been dreading the moment he’ll have to talk to the kid, but he also knows Wild will do nothing but damage himself if left to his own thoughts. It’s already beginning, the distance Wild has set between himself and Twilight is a clear indicator of that.

Warrior clears his throat and Time is brought out of his worries, looking up from the makeshift split he’s been setting on Warrior’s injury. Warrior has a look in his eyes that lets Time know that they’re thinking about the exact same thing.

“I can talk to him,” Warrior says, voice low so no one but Time hears.

Time almost wants to agree. Warrior is fully capable of this task. He doesn’t talk too much about his trials, but Time does know he has lead armies into battle, into war. It’s in his name. He’s seen stuff like this before. Time’s sure he’s witnessed soldiers collapse in the heat of a fight; good soldiers, soldiers with friends and family waiting for them. Time could put this on him and let Warrior deal with the fallout of telling the hard truth to a boy who does not want to listen, to a boy who will only blame himself.

But Time also knows that he cannot dump this on Warrior. Time is responsible for the group, and he’s probably one of the only ones to truly know and understand Twilight.

The most important person in the entire world to Twilight wasn’t Zelda. It wasn’t Midna. Or Colin. Or Ilia.

It was Wild.

And that fierce… love went both ways.

No, no Time can’t let Warrior take the fall. The man may be a captain, a seasoned hero of war, but, in this group, Time is the leader. It’s his responsibility. He’s the only one that can do it.

“See if Four needs any help making dinner,” Time says, trying to give Warrior both a grateful and determined expression. Warrior studies him for a second, glances at Wild, then sighs.

“I trust you, old man,” he consents, though his voice still sounds stern, his look giving away nothing as he stands up and limps towards Four whose smacking Hyrule’s hand away with the spoon.

Time sighs and glances back over at Wild and Twilight, his heart tightening in his chest with indescribable worry and fear.

Don’t be a coward, Time. Rip it off like a bandage. Get it done and over with. Worry about the fallout later.

Finally, Time stands up, and before he could even hesitate he begins to walk towards the kid that’s supposed to be cooking right now. Towards the young man that’s losing the battle for his life. Towards two heroes desperately hurting in very different ways.

Time sets himself down next to Wild, and Wild doesn’t react. He just stares at Twilight and somehow manages to press his knees even closer to his chest. He doesn’t even spare a sideways look.

Slowly, with much unsurety, Time lowers a hand down onto Wild’s shoulder. Wild stiffens slightly, and usually that stiffening would go away after a few moments… but this time it sticks around. Time doesn’t let that deter him. He can’t afford to let it.

“How are you holding up?” Time asks.

Wild doesn’t respond, just takes a deep breath and lets it out. For a moment, Time really thinks that there will be no getting through to Wild. He’s too deep in his grief. Too deep to be pulled out by a few words and touches.

But then, Wild responds right when Time was about to jot this down as a hopeless venture.

“He won’t last the night,” Wild says, his voice thick. Wobbly.

Time swallows and follows Wild’s gaze down to Twilight, and for the first time since the incident, Time really looks at his protege. The skin not inflamed and blistered is pale and sickly green. Sweat is glistening off every inch of skin, soaking the bandages hiding the tendril like burns embracing his body. He matches Wild in the worst way possible. Destroyed tissue on his face, ear gone, scabs and puss staining the white cloth woven around his chest. He looks horrible. Looks like death. He’s probably in unimaginable pain and Time can’t help but think that Twilight not lasting the night would be a mercy.

“No,” Time croaks, “he won’t.”

Wild’s stiff shoulder suddenly jolts as he tightens his hold around himself, a pitiful whimper escaping his throat as he presses his eyes against his knees. Time sits there as Wild breaks apart, as another sob physically wracks through his small frame.

“It’s my fault,” Wild whimpers. “It’s all my fault…”

“No, cub,” Time says, heat threatening to break through his tear ducts, “it isn’t your fault-”

Wild only cries harder and Time does the only thing he can think of doing. He grabs his shoulders and presses the boy into his chest, holding him as tight as he can as Wild fully lost control of himself, cries of anguish and pain shooting out into the night. It’s loud, not a single emotion holding back, but Time doesn’t attempt to hush him. No one turns a judgmental eye towards them, all of them perhaps thinking the same thing.

It’s about time someone broke.

Time whispers every comfort he knows into Wild’s hair as he glances up at the others. Legend is leaning against a tree, glaring at the fire with a suspicious glisten in his eyes. Sky has Hyrule pulled under his arm in a comforting one armed hug, Hyrule’s shoulders shaking slightly while Sky glances at Time with an alone tear trailing down his cheek. Four and Warrior has stopped cooking, and by the looks of the pot sitting just off the fire, they have given up at it; neither are crying but both look very ready to, especially Warrior as Wind climbs into his lap and grasps around his waist, a look of pure sadness screwing up his youthful features.

Liquid finally breaks through, and Time doesn’t wipe the army of tears trailing down his face for a very long time.

Twilight stops breathing twice in the night.

They weren’t able to save him the second time.

-o-o-o-o-

At first, Wild’s angry. Beyond angry.

The rage in his gut burnt with a fiery passion and the tree that came in front of him and his sword didn’t see it coming.

Neither did his now shattered sword.

But… that was weeks ago.

Now?

Now he’s just numb.

He doesn’t quite know how to… face it anymore. Anger, sadness, the whole process of grief didn’t work. It still hurts, It still clutches his heart and tear through his chest with every blink of his eyes, every flash of fire that came with each blink. It repeats, over and over and over and Wild’s pretty sure he’s tried everything to quench the guilt, the pain, and every time he ends up back at square one.

Alone.

He’s alone.

Alone and numb.

Numb because what’s the point of feeling anymore? All feeling does is hurt him, all feeling does is get the people he cares about killed.

It’s killed Mipha. Urbosa. Daruk. Ravio. It’s sentenced Zelda to 100 years of torture and solitude. It’s sent soldiers to die. It’s sent fields to burn. Mountains to fall. Dragons to become ill. Guardians to turn. So many people have died, gotten hurt, had their lives destroyed because of a boy named Link who decided to pull a sword out of stone, who thought he could be a hero.

All feeling is good for is causing a mess and leaving him to clean it up.

Twilight is just another name to add to the list.

So… he’s numb. The world passed easier that way. He made it through the funeral. The words they all said, that he stayed silent through. He made it through their group stumbling upon Ordon Village like some sick joke from the goddesses just a few hours later. Made it through Time telling the families there that their boy isn’t coming home. Made it through the crying children, the sobbing young woman beating against Time’s chest, the empty house filled with memories of a life snuffed out, the horse named Epona nipping at all their ears as if asking “Where is mine?”

He made it through all that without another temper tantrum. Without another break down, or panic attack, or any ugly crocodile tears. Made it through without saying a word even. He hardly remembers any of it, just the major details that his brain will naturally store away for him to remember in his nightmares. He has even avoided the temptations to grab his slate and hyper focus on every picture of Twilight that he has.

Because that hurts.

Numbness is better.

Yes, numbness is so much better, he thinks as he sits alone in a small clearing leading to a beautiful spring occupying a rather majestic stream of knee high waterfalls. He has just managed to avoid Time once again—the old man has been giving him a lot of looks lately and Wild is getting rather frustrated with them—and took off into the paths leading outside of the village he can’t wait to leave. He walked without purpose, only wanting to get away and not have the constant inkling at the back of his mind that tells him to tell them what really happened. Tell them all that Twilight didn’t die heroically, he died protecting a kid who can come back from the dead easily. He died trying to be a hero, only got himself killed in the process. If Twilight was thinking, he would have known that Wild might die from that blast, but he would have quickly came back. Twilight should have left it alone. He should have stepped aside and let the beam kill Wild for the second time in his life.

Instead, he got himself dead for a useless purpose. It’s Wild’s fault, he should have been paying attention so Twilight didn’t even feel the need to shove him back.

His fault…

No, no be numb.

He sighs and looks at the clearing and spring around him. It’s gorgeous here, and for a second he wonders if Twilight ever spent time here, if he ever played in that spring water or sat in this very spot watching the fish. He rubs a hand over his face, hoping to maybe banish those thoughts as well because they hurt and he really doesn’t want to hurt any more. He really doesn’t want to think about how even if Twilight used to spend time at this spring that his presence will never grace this place again.

Being alone is a bad idea, he realizes as he glares at the waters, thinking is a bad idea too, but thinking comes when one’s alone and he was never good at meditation.

But he also thinks being back at that village with his comrades and the kind strangers is a bad idea too. Wild can feel himself be wound tight light a string tied between two wild boars trying to run in the opposite directions. He’s succeeded for so long at ignoring the aching in his chest, but it isn’t like this is the first time he’s done this to avoid the hurting and churning. He’ll snap soon. He knows he will. It’s only a matter of time, and he’d rather do it silently and alone than loudly and with company.

A lung full of air. Out. The ripples in the water reflect the golden sunset. In. Breath wobbles. Out. Tears sting. In… his heart clenches. Out… the first unwanted whimper escapes.

In. A tear falls.

Out. His head sinks to his knees.

In.

He wants to scream.

Out.

He’s too busy biting his lips.

In…

Out… It’s his fault.

In… He didn’t get to say goodbye.

His breath catches.

He cant breath out. He’s sobbing now, his ears ringing. His brain is screaming at him to pull himself together, that he should just suck it up and ignore it like he’s done for so long—but then his heart clenches and he knows that he just let the dam burst. There’s no hope to stop the waters, they come out with every gasp, every whimper, every cry, every action to curl tighter and tighter within himself, and they’ll keep flowing until there’s no more water to flow, until he can work up the strength to build up the walls again.

It hurts. He hates it so much. Everything hurts.

It’s his fault. It’s all his fault.

Zelda. Mipha. Daruk. Revali. Urbosa. Zelda. Mipha. Daruk. Revali. Urbosa. Zelda…

Twilight.

He cries harder. Faces. Names. Voices. It’s all too loud, and now instead of trying to ignore it he’s trying to drown it out with his own cries, his own pain. Maybe, if he shows how much he hurts, how much agony he’s in, the faces and blame will leave him alone for a little while longer. If he screams loud enough into his legs and arms, the voices will dim. If he-

Something brushes against his fingertips, and he’s startled out of his own misery, head shooting up to find that his fingers are resting in the golden, rippling water of the spring. His shoes are drowned up to his ankles, and his butt is soaked. Somehow, the water has risen, and now he’s sitting in it.

He blinks, wiping the tears from his cheeks and taking a gasping breath of air, and he looks at the waterfalls, trying to figure out how the water even rose in the first place. Oceans have tides, springs don’t. Or at least he doesn’t think they do. Not that it matters, he’s just… thankful that it managed to bring him out of his agony so it didn’t have to take it’s own time fading.

Something flashes at the top of the spring, at the third and highest waterfall section, and he blinks when the form of a silver creature catches his eye.

His breath catches in his throat when the figure comes a bit closer.

A wolf.

Thousand’s of emotions flicker through his head like a slideshow and he holds his breath as the wolf jumps down the first section of waterfall. It’s fur is a beautiful, glittering silver color that glitters like there’s a bucket of stars connected into each strand. He doesn’t even think to run or grab his sword, he’s too transfixed as the creature jumps down the next section and there’s not a single splash. Down the last and there’s white, familiar patterns on the muzzle and forehead of the creature.

He doesn’t dare breathe. If he breathes, whatever he’s seeing could turn out to be a sick joke.

The wolf pads towards him, head tilted slightly and those blue, blue eyes flashing with sadness and worry.

And then, the silver fur ripples like the pond it’s walking on. Flashing a pure gold and morphing to a taller, more human figure colored in grays and glowing whites like the moon. If Wild had blinked, one second a wolf would be tilting its head at him and the next he would be smiling down.

But he didn’t blink. He didn’t breathe. He’s terrified to.

“Hey, cub,” Twilight says, smiling.

And curse it, the dam breaks again, though, not in the same way as before.

He scrambles to his feet, golden water dripping from his clothes and splashing upwards with every desperate, running step he takes further into the spring. The smile on his face widens as Wild gets closer, but Wild can hardly even see through his tears as he launches himself forward in one last, desperate burst.

For a second, terror clutches his heart that he’s going to close his arms but they will only go through, but it’s too late to stop his arms, too late to stop his body, and the pure joy that fills his entire soul when he physically crashes into Twilight is intoxicating. If he’s dreaming, he will make the most of it and hold Twilight as tight as he can.

Twilight laughs and encloses his own arms around Wild’s body as they both stumble. Twilight sinks into the water and they fall together into the spring, drops splashing upwards and soaking both of them.

They hold each other. Wild has no plans on stopping as the tears fall again, as his chest lurches with his cries. Twilight doesn’t seem to mind a whole lot, in fact he helps position them both so they’re more cuddling compared to the mess of limbs they were before. The coolness of the running water ripples against their clothes and skin like a heartbeat.

“I’m sorry,” Wild chokes out after what must have been half an hour of just sitting there, hugging, and crying. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, cub,” Twilight soothes, “I don’t blame you. No one blames you. It was me, I made the decision.”

That makes Wild cry harder. His throat, stomach, and chest hurts so much.

“It’s alright, I’m here, it’s all okay, cub. I’m so sorry it took me so long to find you again, I should have found you sooner.”

Wild shakes his head, because Twilight is trying to push the blame onto himself and nothing is okay, but he can’t work up the strength to argue anymore. He lets Twilight hold him as his shutters and gasping stops, lets Twilight continue to hush him and whisper comforts until there’s nothing but the spring water to pierce the silence of the evening forest.

It’s peaceful. Somehow, Wild feels more at peace than what he has felt in months. He doesn’t want to break it.

Twilight breaks it.

“I can’t stay much longer, cub,” he whispers and Wild bites his lip.

He knows how this works. Spirits can never stay long.

“I needed to see you,” Twilight continues, his voice sad, “and I needed to give you something.”

Wild lets Twilight grab his hands and help him to his feet. They’re both soaking, but the chilly breeze and the low sun doesn’t seem to affect either of them. He forces himself to look up at Twilight who is now standing just a arms distance away. His smile is sad, eyes glistening.

He opens his mouth, and cuts himself off with a nervous chuckle. It’s so Twilight. It’s so him. The guy is like a child doing a bad impression of an adult in an actual adults body. He’s trying to be serious, to the point, factual, but Twilight is just as an emotional mess as Wild is, and he can never keep a straight face long even in the most serious of topics.

Wild feels like he can breathe for the first time in a long time.

“Look, I… I did what I did and I don’t want you to blame yourself, kid,” Twilight says and Wild’s lips thin, already preparing himself for the inevitable lecture. Trust Twilight to come back as a spirit and “give” him a lecture. Twilight must catch sight of Wild’s nonplussed expression because his face suddenly breaks out in to a splitting smile accompanied this time by a genuine laugh.

“Okay, okay, how about we leave that to the old man, huh?” He jokes.

“Why… are you here?” Wild asks, and man does his voice sound unused. Raw.

Twilight licks his lips and brings his hand to the back of his neck. “I… I can’t just leave you. Alone. I can’t. I’ll never be able to rest if I don’t know you’re safe.”

He sucks in a deep breath and Wild watches with wide eyes as Twilight reaches towards his chest and there’s a bright flash of golden light that has Wild blinking spots from his eyes. Within a second, Twilight is standing before him with an orb cradled in his hands, a blood red color.

Twilight isn’t looking at Wild, but down at the orb like he himself is fascinated by it. The corners of his lips tilt slightly upwards and he sighs. “Go, and do not falter, my child,” he says softly, as if to himself, but Wild doesn’t get to question it because Wild looks up at with with a set jaw and determined eyes. “Take it.”

“I-”

“Cub. Please. I love you so much. The gods gifted me this form in life… I want you to take it, and be safe. I have no need for it anymore.”

He holds out his hands and Wild cups the orb in his hands, waterworks starting up again, but he quickly wipes them away with his shoulder as the warmth of the orb dissolves in his palms, spreading over his fingers like a liquid and trailing up his arms to the center of his chest, where there’s a burst of golden light and the familiar feeling of something greater than himself entering his being. He feels warm. He feels safe.

Suddenly, he’s pulled back into a fierce hug and Wild grasps onto Twilight’s clothes because he knows, he knows it’s almost over. It’s almost time to part. To say goodbye.

“Promise me, cub” Twilight whispers into his hair, “promise me you will be safe.”

“I… I promise.”

-o-o-o-o-

At first, he was afraid.

Now, he’s loved.

He’s running, faster than what he’s ever ran before. The world is at his heels, branches and leaves whip past his snout as he pushes harder, faster, breathing hard and going going going-

Going where? Not sure yet.

All he knows is that… he’s free. The world is nothing but a blur zipping past his gaze, streaking past his pumping legs, left behind his tail.

He never wanted Revali’s Gale, or Urbosa’s Fury, or Daruk’s Protection.

He never wanted Mipha’s Grace.

The thought of owning the powers of his dead comrades, dead friends, set his stomach in a knot, but they were always useful. He learned to get used to it. Learned to appreciate the gifts he was given and use them in the best way he knew how.

He never wanted this gift either. Goddess, if you were to tell him that someday the Hero of Twilight would pass away, would sacrifice himself to save him, and then give him a very special ability that was such a huge part of who Twilight was… he probably would have thrown hands.

But… it’s been a few months since that meeting, since the funeral, since the death. Wild has learned to… appreciate it. Twilight is right, this gift definitely made him feel less alone. Every time he uses it (at first reluctantly, now whenever he gets the chance), he can feel Twilight watching over him from some unknown plane of existence. He can feel the warmth, and it’s not the dirty blond fur on his body radiating that heat. It’s a different kind of heat.

“I know you’ll find this gift useful,” Twilight had said, before he finally faded away, “I certainly did. Whenever you use it, I want you to remember how many people are there for you, how many people would fight for you. There are so many of them. Take it. Use it. Twilight’s Love is now yours… well, it always has been.”

Wild howls, feeling strong, feeling free, feeling loved, as he pushes himself faster up the hill, tongue lolling out of his panting jaws. Someone calls out his name and he sprints harder, barreling through the grass and jumping into the open arms of none other than Wind. Wind laughs from the bottom of his stomach, small fingers climbing up and latching themselves into Wild’s fur. Time stands off a small distance, the others not far behind, all smiling.

A broken family, all doing their best to remain strong.

And there’s something graceful about that, isn’t there?

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Goretober Day 11

Prompt: Sacrifice 

Fandom: Avatar

Characters: The Royal Family

Song Rec: Ritualz - Ghetto Ass Witch

Summary: Ozai makes a sacrifice to ensure that Azula is a powerful bender.

“She’s a nonbender.” The man declared.

Ozai scowled, were he the one holding the baby, he would have dropped it right then and there, but it was Ursa holding the useless, pitiful thing. It was too small and it cried too much as it kicked it’s little legs. 

“You bore me a nonbender!?” Ozai roared. “First you give me that.” He pointed to Zuko, who held his thumb in his mouth and sucked upon it nervously. 

“He’s two years old, he just needs more time to…” Ursa started. 

“And now you give me this.” He glared at the infant squirming in Ursa’s arms. Her cries only grew in volume with Ozai’s flaring temper. “Just what the hell am I supposed to do with that?” 

“She’s your daughter, you’re supposed to love her.”  

But when he looked at the baby, he could only loath it for being a second failure. “Take that one to the orphanage, we’ll have another…”

Ursa clutched the babe protectively. The newborn cooed cheerfully, oblivious to her own fate. “We’re not getting rid of her. That simple but furious “FINE!” from Ozai should have been the end of it. Yet the man raged and threatened for days; things that ranged from taking the baby to the orphanage in the middle of the night to killing her in various ways. He raged on and on until a letter arrived from Iroh and Lu Ten. 

They were coming home and he had an idea. 

.oOo.

Lu Ten awoke to a scratchy feeling. He could hear crying, loud wailing. It pierced the dark night with a chilling shrillness. He had every intention of finding the source of the noise, but, instead finding that his arms and legs were bound. “What the--”

“Don’t make me get the gags, Lu Ten.” He recognized the harsh rasp of Ozai’s voice. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

Ozai responded with a quite menacing chuckle. “I’m doing what needs to be done to keep this family from shame.” He paused. “What kind of firelord can’t produce firebending offspring.”

The crying. 

Was it the babe he and Iroh had come to visit and hold for the first time.

Ozai set the little thing down next to him. The poor baby was probably terrified. Lu Ten himself was growing panicked. “What does that have to do with me?”

“Everything.” Ozai replied. “See, I need you.” 

Lu Ten swallowed, he hated the sound of that.

“It’s a bit of a process, took some preparation.” The man circled him, hands clasped behind his back. “Lots of reading and studying and I’ve found some interesting things. You see, chi can be harvested and transplanted at a price. Luckily, I won’t be the one paying it.” The man picked up a bowl with a single droplet of lava, a melted dragon scale, and a sprinkle of ash. “The potion is nearly complete, I only need one more ingredient.”

Lu Ten heard the slid of metal, a dagger being unsheathed. 

And here he thought that it would be the war that took his life. Instead, the dagger slipped into his belly. He wondered what would be come of the babe. Was he really going to make her drink lava. He couldn’t imagine that even a small dot of it would be pleasant. 

He pondering was cut short by a searing ripping. 

“Apologies, nephew.” Ozai offered dryly. “But the stomach is the source of fire chakra, so I will be taking yours.” 

Lu Ten could only offer up a wet gurgle in response. It escaped his lips in a froth of blood. A bubble of the stuff burst upon his lips. 

It was torment, a person shouldn’t be able to survive without a stomach. With horror, he came to find out that such a feat was possible so long is the person didn’t bleed out. Of course, he would eventually, and the moment that he did couldn’t come fast enough. 

He pleaded with Agni and Raava and with whatever entity would listen to give him the sweet release of death. They left him clinging onto the miserable remaining fragments of his life for some time more. 

Agni, he couldn’t even move his arms to clutch his gaping midsection. He wanted to scream but he was in too much agony to do that. 

Instead he watched Ozai mash his stomach into the bowl with the lava, until it was virtually liquified. Lu Ten knew that he should have averted his eyes right then. Instead he observed his uncle creep up to his own child with intentions sinister enough to make the devil cringe. 

The man cradled the baby and tilted the bowl into her mouth, a little at a time. Between tips the poor thing wailed. A screeching, fearful cry that left Lu Ten feeling even more hollow. He tore his eyes away from the scene, praying for death to take him away from the infant’s suffering.

.oOo.

“We’ll tell them that he died in the war.”

It was his father’s voice. Really, Zuko knew that he ought not eavesdrop, his mother had taught him better. Yet, the day was the strangest one yet--and there had been a lot of odd ones since Lu Ten’s disappearance. It started with him walking in on his uncle weeping uncontrollably and his mother eyeing his sister with fear and something else that he couldn’t explain. 

“Died in the war…” Ursa repeated with a bitter laugh.

“And as far as she will know, she was born with that spark in her eyes.”

Her. She’d lost her gleeful baby coo. 

She made Zuko uncomfortable.  She never cried anymore.  

.oOo.

A mid-air somersault created a pinwheel of blue fire. She accented it with a kick and a punch and then the flame died in Azula’s palm. The exertion of a full day of moves of the same standard, left her tired and slightly winded. She dipped her head in a slight bow that was met by a series of slow claps from her father. 

“Wonderful.” He commented. “You’re a true prodigy.” He reminded her again. 

“Thank you, father.” Azula replied. “It isn’t as hard as they say.” Really, firebending came so naturally. Apparently, too naturally for the comfort of others. The look on her mother’s face when her flames first went blue remained vivid in her mind. The way Zuko shied away. 

Iroh though, seemed to hate her skills with the most venom. Perhaps the old man was Jealous. Jealous that she would surpass the dragon of the west. Envious that she was going to master lightningbending much earlier than he had. 

His stare was hard and hateful as she made her first attempt at lightningbending. The sparks came naturally, Azula had expected as much. She smiled to herself as the lightning, though somewhat weak, hit the opposite wall. “I suppose that went well for my first time.” 

Ozai’s lip curled up. He put a hand on her shoulder. “I had no doubts. You are a true firebender.”

[rainsonata]

Dog Days

Fandom/Pairing: Elsword; none Rating: K+ Word Count: 4,559

Summary: Chung spent much of his life being the smallest, so he was less than thrilled to the discovery that he was short again. Becoming Aisha’s guinea pig was not what he had in mind. 

Note: This is for the writing prompt “Turning an Elsword character into an animal”.   

AO3 Link  I  FF.NET Link

Classes: Fatal Phantom Oz Sorcerer Timonia and Abysser (Catastrophe) Aspara, Code Ultimate, Daybreaker Furious Blade, Flame Lord Rune Master Bluhen Dominator

Closer to the ground, everything looked bigger. There was no fear in his revelation, he was the opposite of that. The Fatal Phantom’s mind was all but a blur, close to a panic. 

He felt the smooth texture of the wood embedded into the guild house he shared with his teammates. The bright flames from the fireplace roared, a hungry beast consuming the logs fed by Elsword when the fire swordsman passed by. There was chattering from all the rooms around him, too many voices and smells orchestrating in the background for Chung to hear his own thoughts. A crazed look played across his features.  

“That weapon upgrade isn’t enough?” Aisha closed her book to look at him. He was glad to see that the dark mage wasn’t quick to judge him, or question why he chose to come to her first thing in the morning.    

“You’re the alchemist of our team,” Chung argued. He trusted her to understand where he was coming from with this new request. “Surely you have something that can improve my speed and agility in battle.”

“Well, there’s something I’ve been testing...”

What in the name of Elrios was Aisha working on?

Amid the confusion, he ran out of the room where they kept the alchemy tools when he fell to his knees. He was on his fours and yelped when he saw the paws, gold fuzz covering his body and the sound that came out of his mouth. What was that noise he just made? A high pitch whine rose from the top of his lungs into a howl.   

I’m a dog!

Chung shot a glare at the emptied bottle at his feet and growled. It was that damn potion! What was he thinking when he agreed to test it out for Aisha? He whimpered when he nudged the bottle to discover that it smelled like an acidic fruit. Huh… he didn’t recall detecting that scent when he was human.  

“Did you hear that, Ciel?”

A demon girl appeared in the hallway. She blinked when she saw Chung laying on the floor with his ears flat, her arm stretched out in reach for him.  

“Careful, Lu. You don’t know if it will bite.” A taller demon in a blue suit and a cap to match appeared behind Lu when he spotted Chung.  

Lu giggled, “Nonsense! No dog will bite the demon queen!”

He was less than comfortable being in the same team with Timonia and Abysser due to them being demons, but... It was hard for Chung to protest, let alone show distaste when it felt so nice to have someone scratch him behind the ears. That couldn’t be good, Chung thought when he wagged his tail. He shouldn’t be adjusting with such ease.  

“Who brought it in?” Ciel thought out loud, “Although it’s pretty cute.”

Chung froze when Ciel joined in with Lu and started petting him as well. His nerves were bunched up, ecstatic even, at the attention he was getting. It was like he was in high heaven. No, he needs to get away from them. Chung barked and pulled himself away, ducking his head under his paws spread out.

He overhead Lu grumble, “How rude.”

If the dog instincts had it its way, it would have stayed there all day until it ran out of pats and hugs to get high on. Aisha wasn’t in her lab when he went to look for her. Where did she go? If he spent another few hours as a dog, he was going to lose his mind being unable to use his thumbs. He better find the dark mage to undo this mess before things got worse.

His brain was flooded with many senses when Chung crashed into the kitchen with his head planted into the floor, his hind legs spread out with his tail squashed. Bubbles gurgled from the closed pot setting on the cooking stove, each pop snapping in his ears and made his ears perk up each time. His nose twitched when he pressed it against the tiled floors to find roasted corn beef he identified. He thought he had a big breakfast hours ago, but that no longer mattered

Running on his fours was harder than it looked. His claws made a rhythmic sound when he skid over the smooth surface with his hind legs barely keeping up with his front ones. Shaking his head from the dizziness, his ears perked up when he overhead Ara talking over the counter.

“Hey, didn’t Aisha say she was looking for a dog?” Awe appeared on Ara’s soft features. “I didn’t know she liked dogs.”

‘Like’ would be an overshoot, Chung said dryly.

Perhaps it was his bias against demons and the like, but he couldn’t help but question Angkor’s influence over Aisha. She let out a quiet chuckle when he asked her about the potion, eager to see what effect it would have on her newfound guinea pig. It will make him stronger, right? Strengthening potion, his as-

“Aspara, would it be illogical to let him wander on his own?” A humanoid nasod clad in black asked.      

Ara laughed, “Eve, I’m still me. Call me by my real name!” She ruffled Chung’s head and played with his pointy ears, “Isn’t he the cutest?”     

The blue outlines in Eve’s clothes shone when she gave Chung a cold stare that made the Seiker prince’s blood freeze. He thought the nasod queen recognized him when she slowly blinked at him, but she remained silent. If she cared about a dog being in the kitchen, she sure didn’t show it.  

“The human concept of cute is inconsistent,” Eve said with little emotion. “They categorize small animals like cats or dogs to be cute, but Caskeys are small and they don’t consider them to be cute. Why is that?”

“Well, um.” Ara turned pink and stuttered, “I guess some people don’t like Caskeys because of their sharp teeth. I mean, dogs have sharp teeth too, but… I’m don’t know, actually!”

“Are you hungry?” An elf woman spoke up. Rena was talking to him!

A platter of sandwiches sat between her and Ara at the countertop, a lineup of meat and pickled vegetables sandwiched between bread slices. When she talked to Chung, she lowered herself so that she was at his level. The kindness in her eyes made him feel like a child again.

It was a simple question, but it made Chung guilty. Despite the concern Ara and Rena showed, it was different, like they were strangers. Everything about this felt wrong. Standing on his hind legs, Chung had his front paws against the kitchen counter to get their attention.  

I wasn’t a dog! I’m your teammate, Chung!

He yelled this to them, but his words came out as barks and whines when he expressed his distress.   

“He’s been making a lot of noises since he came,” Rena noted and beamed. “You’re very chatty, aren’t you?”

The voice the Daybreaker used was high pitch, emphasizing certain words and raising her intonation as she spoke. It was like she was talking to a baby. It made Chung uncomfortable, but the dog instincts in him was delighted and even wagged his tail.  

Rena grabbed a sandwich from the plate to pull out a slice of boiled chicken to offer to him. It wasn’t corn beef, but its savory smell made him salivate and impatient when she made him wait for it. She broke the meat it into smaller pieces to let Chung eat from her hand. He was surprised how easy it was to chew threw it when he always found chicken to be dry and chewy.     

“We should ask Raven to look after him,” Ara said. “I’m afraid he’ll run off when we leave for our mission after lunch.”

Rena nodded, “I think Elesis and Add are home today, so he can stay with them until Aisha comes back. Eve?”

“That would be appropriate,” Eve said.

He could live with that, Chung decided. If there was anyone in the team he would prefer to be under the hands of, it would be with Raven. The Furious Blade was stern, but reasonable and was willing to lend an ear if needed. Maybe he needed a responsible adult to help him in this inconvenient situation.  

The smell of sharp grass and bark heightened Chung’s awareness of the training grounds when he laid on his stomach. A dark haired man easily twice his height kneeled to rest his blade against the tree trunk to look at Chung. Serious as always, it was difficult to know what was on Raven’s mind.

“Looks like one of those spitz from Hamel,” Raven said (1). “They used to assign them to us to train them before using them on the battlefield to track people and find them.”

“You don’t need to explain stuff I already know!” Elesis’s tattoos gleamed under the sunlight when the Flame Lord crossed her arms and grinned.  

Chung was surprised at this new piece of information. Hamel did something similar, but favored the use of Hamelings for their intelligence and ability to track magic as well. It made sense for Velder to use dogs when Hamelings were not native and would be expensive to import.  

“Stand.”

Chung blinked, looking up at Raven in confusion, unsure if he heard himself right. Stand?

Pushing one hand against his knees to stand, Raven got up to demonstrate, gesturing Chung to do the same. Grabbing Chung by the paws, he prompted him onto his fours. When Chung obeyed, he was rewarded with an awkward pat on the back and a piece of meat from the palm of his hand. Chung was disappointed when he learned that it was a dried piece of meat, a type of jerky from last week’s. Was Raven trying to train him? Chung gave him a hard eyed look.

I’m not a dog!

“Good boy,” Raven smiled and placed one gloved hand on his back again. “Sit.”

Chung sunk back into the grass and grumbled at the situation he found himself in. Okay, he was a dog by physical terms, but he was still human! Young, but now an adult since last month, Chung thought. He was not a pet or a military dog to be told what to do!

Yet, he was compliant when Raven rewarded him again for his obedience and when the Furious Blade pulled his paw out for ‘Shake’. He felt like he was performing parlor tricks for the sake of entertainment. Why wasn’t Elesis doing anything? Chung threw a dirty look at the red knight for not stepping in.

Elesis tilted her head to the side to see Chung sulk at the realization someone wanted to discipline him, “Is it okay to reward him every time?”

“It’s better to reward a lot at the beginning before reducing them,” Raven said. “I want him to get the basics first before moving onto harder stuff.”

He already spent his childhood training under Helputt, he did his time. Chung didn’t want to go through this again, he shook his head at the thought of undergoing whatever training Raven had in mind. Looking at Elesis for help, Chung mentally begged her to spare him the humiliation.

Please make him stop this nonsense…

Raven placed a hand in front of his snout to shush him, “Do you need a walk?”

Was he growling the whole time when he said his thoughts before? Chung sank into the grass and covered his face with his paws. That’s not what he wanted to happen. He wrinkled his nose when he smelled the scent of something burning and a mix of sweat.  

“Heya, Raven!”

Chung looked up to see his best friend waving at Raven. The Rune Master sported an opened white jacket to display rune markings at his lower stomach, not unlike those of his sister. He walked over to look at Chung with curiosity. What was Elsword planning to do?

“He looks tired,” Elsword said before turning to Chung, “Did Raven overwork you like he does with everyone?”

Yes! Chung growled. If Raven had things his way, he probably would try to make him jump through fire if he had to. Or any of those crazy tricks he saw at the circus with the dogs.   

“Man, you must have pissed him off if he’s making those noises,” Elsword laughed. “Let me borrow this guy for an hour or two, Raven.”

“I suppose we did a lot today,” Raven scratched his head.

“What do you plan on doing with him?” Elesis asked her brother.

Elsword shrugged, “Probably nap if he’s tired.”

Chung was never more relieved than to see Elsword when he pulled him away from Raven and into a warm hug reminiscence to a kindled fire. Perhaps he was wrong in thinking Raven and Elesis would take care of him without making him work for it. As Elsword led him back into the house with an extra sandwich in hand and food for him, Chung thought maybe things weren’t so bad.

Happy to escape from being converted into a military dog, he sank his head into a pillow with his snout facing the opposite of Elsword. It would have been cramp to share the room with the Rune Master if he was human, but he only took up roughly a third of the bed. The light fluffiness of the pillow coaxed him into fading out into dreamland. That is, if Elsword would let him close his eyes and rest!

“And then sis got in trouble because she wasn’t supposed to give me extra marshmallows in my hot chocolate.” There was a pause before Elsword added, “Or the star candies, they were good. Did you know she got to visit all these towns and cities to buy souvenirs for us and the villagers? You should have seen the size of the dried meat she brought home!”

Chung sighed and rolled his face into the pillow to muffle his groan. Elsword has been talking for how long? Elsword sat at the edge of the bed with his legs crossed, leaning over to play with Chung’s ears, sometimes picking out loose hair when he ran his hand through his fur.

As expected, he didn’t have a neat room. It was a cluttered mess with his clothes in one corner of the room and crushed and emptied complete recovery potions piling in the trash bin. Spell books were shoved into every space Elsword could find on the bookshelf beside his working desk.       

You really need to do something about your room, Chung stared at the slight burn marks on the books’ and table’s edges, the faint smell of cinder lingering in the background. Was he practicing his runes on those nights when the house became unnaturally warm?    

“Things got quiet after sis left, but nothing changed. She said she was coming back, but she never returned after that. I still hunted for money, which was okay, but got boring because it’s always the same game. I don’t think Ann was happy when I knocked over her stuff when she asked me to help. I always wanted a dog, but never found the time to take care of one...”

Look, you’re a good friend, but can you continue your life story later? Chung pawed him, waving a golden paw to get Elsword’s attention. When I stop having paws for hands and I can actually talk back?

“Elsword?” A man with eyes the color of Elder trees knocked on the door to peer through. “Can I have a minute with you?”   

“Wow, it’s been half an hour,” Elsword stopped to open the door, “What is it, Ain?”   

The priest was dressed in a fur coat reaching down to his ankles, a backpack slung across his back with his battle equipment on. A stray cowlick poked out from his roots. There was a bounce to Ain’s steps when he leaned over to look at Elsword still in his tank top and at the messy room with laughter in his eyes.

“You look ready for today’s mission,” the Bluhen mused.

“Oh!” Elsword remembered and rubbed his forehead, embarrassed. “Let me get ready. Can you bring the dog to the front of the house? It won’t take long.”

“I can wait,” he had a smile that was no longer reserved to only Elsword. “Treating an animal like it’s another human, how strange.”

Elsword said, “Make sure he doesn’t run away or have anything in his mouth he’s not supposed to eat.”

“All right,” Ain chuckled. “Don’t take too long.”

Closing the door behind them, Ain nudged Chung into following him. They walked down the long narrow hallway that housed everyone else’s rooms, most of them unoccupied since almost everyone was out for a mission or running errands. Chung was startled when Ain abruptly stopped walking to turn to him with a smile.

“You look like you were having fun, Mr. Guardian.”

Huh?

“You took up so much time from Elsword that he forgot about our trip today,” Ain continued. “Elsword said dogs were cute, but I’m not sure what’s cute about having your teammate turn into a small animal with no thumbs.”  

HE KNEW WHO I WAS?

Chung didn’t recall giving obvious signs of being himself when the priest interrupted Elsword’s tangent. It was good to know that someone at least noticed his absence to make connections, but Ain of all people surprised him.

How long did you know this? Do you know where Aisha is? Where is she? I need her to undo the potion effects!

Chung felt like he had to work twice as hard to keep up with Ain, who was one of the taller members of the team. He wasn’t a small dog, but he still had to do jumps in his run when he tagged behind the priest. It would have been nice if Ain walked slower.

They were in front of the house again to wait for Elsword. Raven and Elesis were gone, but the sun was still out. It looked like Ain and Elsword were going to have a late night mission if they chose to leave at this time.    

“Wow, Ms. Elf was right. You’re really chatty.”

AIN! Chung jumped on his hind legs to place his paws onto Ain’s knees and screeched, HELP ME FIND AISHA SO I CAN BE HUMAN AGAIN.

Ain finally stopped walking. Startled by the sudden weight on his legs, Ain fell over, but the crash never came. Shock overcame the priest for a moment, but it only took a second or so for him to come back to his senses and hovered over the grass midway through a fall.

Chung was not as lucky when he failed to rest on Ain’s lap, his snout meeting the sharp smell of grass and dirt. Ain had his feet on the ground again and gave him an apologetic look, but the twinkle in his eyes were unconvincing.    

“Sorry, I don’t speak dog. You should get that fixed.”

Ugh, this guy!

“I’m ready!” Elsword yelled from the back as he ran up to them to catch his breath. “Did you wait long?”

The redhead sported a white jacket with dozens of red belts dangling from his waist to match the big sword he wielded. Without a shirt to cover his upper body, fire runes were visible on his stomach. He had a backpack filled to the brim with potions that fell out when he lowered his head with an apologetic look.

“Not at all.” Ain turned to wave at Chung, “Well, looks like we’re off. Bye-bye~”

HEY, I’M NOT DONE TALKING TO YOU YET! Chung barked at the priest and snarled, YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHO I AM. COME BACK HERE!

The only person to recognize him was going to leave now? Chung couldn’t accept that. He didn’t want to let Ain slip by and pretend their conversation didn’t happen. If being aggressive didn’t work with Ain, maybe he could be persuasive with Elsword. Even if he didn’t understand him.

“Is he okay?” Elsword asked with concern.

Chung caved in closer to rub his head against Elsword’s extended head. A part of him wanted to hide himself in a cave when he dropped his last ounce of dignity to let out a high pitch whine to make himself pitiful to Elsword. Anything to make Elsword stay back, or at least bring him along. He was sure he could make himself useful in battle if he wanted to. Having claws and teeth could be useful.  

“I’m sure the others will take care of him,” Ain said. “There’s always someone home and Mr. Ancient never leaves his room.”   

“You mean Add? I supposed...” Elsword frowned and patted the dog, “Sorry buddy, but we need to go.”

So that’s how it was going to be, Chung moped when those two left. Not that there was much Ain and Elsword could do for him except wait with him, but it would have been nice to have emotional comfort. It was a silly desire, but he missed being able to talk and be understood.

“There you are.”

A feminine voice had Chung look over his shoulder to see a woman in violet. Like the flower, she was dark and pretty, minimal clothing stretched over her bare skin. The pink ruffles in her ‘skirt’ pronounced her figure, bringing out the color in her skin. The hat she wore covered much of her face, but a smirk was visible on her features that lit up the room with her presence.     

Whipping her axe-like staff behind her back, Aisha chuckled, “I’ve been looking for you. You run fast for someone who wasn’t born a dog.”

Chung gulped. He didn’t like where this was going.

“Why am I here?” Add complained and crossed his arms, “That brat kicked me out of my own room!“

The Dominator was not thrilled to be manhandled by the mage and her assistant. He was found in his room - more like someone shook him by the shoulders and dragged him into the lab. Add pulled away to dust himself and adjust his turtleneck, but not in time for Chung to miss the scar on his neck. How long did Add have that?

“Hey!” Add let out a high pitch yelp when Aisha snagged a crystal from his hands. It was the color of azure skies in the shape of a diamond. “That’s mine!”

“Angkor told me you had the last ingredient,” Aisha shrugged and winked at him. “Thanks for the prize.”

The demon god in question had the appearance of a barefooted child in the same color scheme as the Oz Sorcerer, orchid outlining his clothes in a sea of violet. Black bat-like wings folded down his back and he had a complexion that made Add tanner in comparison. His eyes held an unnatural glow when he heard his name.  

Aisha lowered the stove’s fire to a simmer. Stirring the contents with a soup ladle, the Oz Sorcerer grabbed a couple of leaves from the potted plants at the window to add to the cauldron. The potion no longer shared the same hue as the White Mist Swamp, but more of a magenta. A deep frown formed when Aisha glanced over it.  

“I thought I figured out the proper amount of ginseng.” She murmured as if Add and Chung weren’t there, “Could it be I’m still missing a vital ingredient?”

Chung sat in the corner, as far as he could go from the smells. He was getting a migraine from all his senses messing with him. He couldn’t even stay angry at Aisha for turning him into a dog when he couldn’t think straight.  

Add was less patient, tapping his fingers on the solid surface with his elbow resting on the workstation with his eyes half lidded. His eyes landed on shelves crammed with books, the workbenches reserved for the blacksmiths, and at Chung. Closing his eyes, the scientist breathed.

“Why is there a dog?”

There was a chill up his spine when Chung found himself in the spotlight again. His heart skipped a beat when Add looked down at him with his hands on his lap. Unlike the other members of the team, Add didn’t immediately try to pet him or play with his ears. Chung was grateful for that. He was drained from the unwanted attention he had from their teammates.

Aisha asked, “Remember when I asked you to test something for me?”

A smile played on her lips, laughter in her eyes at a memory that made Add freeze at its mention. Angkor giggled when the scientist looked away with sudden interest in on the ground. For once, Add was speechless and had no snappy comeback to the dark mage.

“I don’t want to,” Add’s cheeks turned pink. “Are you saying that dog is…?“

“Someone told me you made a cute cat,” she said. “Fluffier than that ponytail you used to have.”

“That someone was an idiot for telling you,” Add growled.

Chung looked at Add with newfound wonder. Aisha convinced him to try something out for her too?  

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Aisha (Okay, so he may have been wary after the whole turn him into a dog deal.), but he couldn’t begin to understand how or why a battle potion somehow led to a transformation potion.  

“You owe me for taking my material,” Add recovered from initial embarrassment to glare at Aisha.

“I’ll pay you back,” she waved it off. “Isn’t my lovely presence enough service?”

Add snorted.

Taking a wisp from the potion, Aisha wrinkled her nose, but she grabbed the spoon ladle from the side for a small scoop and poured it into a small bowl. She slid the bowl over to Chung with pride.

“You’re feeding him that?” Add cackled, “To think you poison dogs too.”

It smelled like poison too. Chung glared at the bowl and barked at it, sniffing it again before sneezing. What was that horrendous smell coming from it? It held a distinctive scent that made him think of the herbal drinks Ara was so fond of, mixed with bitterwood and reminded him of a swamp.

“I’m not poisoning him!” Aisha placed her hands on her hips and glared at him, “For your information, this potion will one hundred percent make him better!”

It smelled like moss, but the water was rose colored, diced leaves and herbs floating in the water. It had an herbal taste when he took a sip, his stomach dropped when there was a tickling sensation from his insides.

Smoke fogged the room and caused the two humans to cough and gag. Once the smoke faded away, Chung saw pink skin and his arms were shaking, there was more weight in his body. His head remained fluffy, but his face felt raw when he touched it with his hands. Chung yelled when he looked down to cover himself with his arms with a red face. Where was his clothes?

Add saw the naked guardian and sighed, looking away to save Chung’s pride. “I’ll get you something to wear.”

“I knew this potion would work,” Aisha was unfazed from Chung’s lack of clothes, caught up in high emotions for her success.

Chung hung his head in embarrassment.

Author notes:

(1) - Chung’s dog form is based on the Finnish Spitz breed. 

[ao3feedzukka]

mastering the art of just going with it

by ciitadel

He was caught on one word that Sokka had said. Engaged. His mind latched onto that, and conjured up images of rings and a wedding. Marriage.

Sokka kept talking, but Zuko couldn’t hear him over the blood roaring in his ears. If he had been engaged to marry an American citizen, he wouldn’t have to go back to Japan and wait to refile for another work visa. He could stay here, and never have to see his father again.

Zuko’s gaze roamed over Sokka. He wasn’t married, or seeing anyone, Zuko knew that. Sokka always complained about being single, and the one time he had gone on a date in their past several years of working together, Sokka hadn’t shut up about it for a week. Zuko would know if Sokka was currently seeing anyone, and he wasn’t.

There it was. His way out.

aka the au of The Proposal for zukka we never knew we needed

Words: 8919, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Sokka (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), Katara (Avatar), Hakoda (Avatar), Aang (Avatar), Suki (Avatar), Toph Beifong, Lu Ten, Iroh (Avatar), Zhao (Avatar), Kanna (Avatar)

Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Aang/Katara (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (past), Sokka/Yue (past)

Additional Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, fake engagement, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Bending (Avatar TV), so yall know the movie the proposal, yeah so this is that, but with like my own spin on things, zuko is kind of a dick at least in the beginning, but not as bad as he was in s1, zuko is a bastard emo man, sokka didn't study business for this shit

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/25441933