#need a better title

[ayyunah]

Odd one out at the gallery, wake up

[benevolenterrancy]

*After the wedding night*

Prince Jing: hey guys

Ye Qinghuan: Fish fucker!

Prince Jing: Not what I'm called

Ye Qinghuan, don't be rude

[piowasthere]

the file is literally titled 'that one au where Sun kills his Moon' i think that's a good enough caption for this

i would've post this a few days ago but we're currently moving so don't have that much time

there i go with being on time with these for the eps sob

[EP: Moon’s NIGHTMARE Encounter While Hunting Dark Sun (SAMS)]

[the-balloon-shed]

imma be honest I want to make a fic of this one day but for right now you just get me running wild with this headcanon

you know how there's those videos of surgeons being "inspirational" to their interns and then saying the meanest shit in the world? yeah, I think that's Iceman as an instructor at TOPGUN. 

Just the dry, rough sense of humor? The perfectly attenuated phrase in order to knock the arrogance out of some of these scrappy pilots? That's Iceman. The evidence is there in TG86! it's ICE who is saying the most bratty shit to Maverick. His criticisms are almost always valid or born of a real curiosity that's worth looking into, which I think is key, but he expresses it in the rudest and most inciting way possible. 

"Who was covering Cougar while you were showboating --"; (in response to Slider's calling Goose and Mav "famous") "I think you mean notorious"; "I don't like you 'cause you're dangerous" -- I mean Ice is right but he's also a bitch. (we don't have time to unpack ALL of what went into Ice goading Maverick seconds after meeting him with "need help figuring it out? who's the best pilot?" like my god man). 

So, some contenders for some of the commentary Ice might have for his students -- 

"Keep flying like that, I'm going to assume you're getting kickbacks from the military hospital." 

"I can only hope one day you fly for the enemy." 

"I was thrilled to hear the Navy's policy initiative for accommodating more disabilities went into action this year, however, I do think they should reconsider sending me blind pilots." 

"Are you on your wingman's life insurance or something?" 

"What did I say about making the same mistake twice?" "At least tell you I've learned something?" "No. What I said is don't." 

"Resist the urge to help me."

"I'm not looking for the best you can do. I'm looking for the best, period. So if you can't do any better, I suggest trying to emulate somebody else who can." 

"Well, you're no Artful Dodger, but artless dodging kept you alive well enough this time, I suppose." (I think it would be funny if he incidentally gave this poor pilot the callsign Dodger because of this, or A.D. for Artless Dodger)

"Did the Academy change its curriculum? Emphasize the element of surprise?" "Um... why do you ask, sir?" "Because you fly like you've never been inside a plane before." 

And I think he might say this to a colleague trying to pull rank over him that he neither respects nor cares about:

"I've neither the time, nor the crayons, to explain this to you." 

I think Mav would be so annoyed, too. "why do I have the reputation for being hard to work with when you're going around saying the meanest crap to these kids?" 

All Ice would do is laugh. "Sounds like a personal problem." 

Not to say that Ice is an asshole without restraint. Hell, the Iceman is all about restraint. He doesn't kick people when they're down. He doesn't say cutting stuff like this to people who are genuinely trying and not being a showoff. This is to knock overly arrogant kids down a few pegs, not send people into a shame self-doubting spiral, and Ice is usually pretty damn good at walking that line. 

Like, I imagine one of the students not understanding something to do with the physics portions of their classes and so he goes to Ice super nervous about getting reamed, and Ice is very patient with him. When Mav comes in and starts talking to Ice about instructor stuff, the student goes "oh, I can come back later, you know I think I'm getting it!" out of fear of wasting Ice's time and Ice would chuckle and be like "no, you clearly don't get it, and that's fine. Easier to teach you on dry land as opposed to up in the air, so let's keep working through it. Long as Mav's not about to talk to me about anything confidential --" which Mav shakes his head no "--alright, then how about you sit right there and keep working at it until you get it, and you will get it. If you've got the time, I've got the time, so let's get it done," and the kid stays in the office and keeps working at it for hours, occasionally checking his work with Mav and Ice until, voila, he does actually get it and also has a whole new understanding of Ice. 

Or if, god forbid, anyone had an accident, Ice would be all over trying to help with that (and help Mav work through it too) and protecting the students from any fallout from the brass because fuck them, they don't know what it's like to be in the air anymore. 

I also think that before the TOPGUN class starts, Ice would find Mav checking on all the canopies of all the jets and, once Ice realized that was what Mav was doing, would spend the next several hours with him helping out and making sure everything was operating properly, even though engineering had already looked at them. Can never be too sure, and if it provides Mav peace of mind, then Ice will do it, no questions asked. 

And so, despite saying some of the rudest crap most of these students have ever heard, they all love him. They all respect the ever-living-crap out of him, and learn to find him actually just kind of funny. It'd be a lot harder to like him if he were wrong, but he's so rarely wrong that in the end even the ones who do get pissed off at him manage to calm down. Students, as they graduate and leave TOPGUN, would probably talk to other graduating classes when they meet them on deployments like "oh my god, what did he say to your class?" "he once said --" "I didn't find it funny then but now I laugh every time I think about it -- " "he helped me figure out how to do..." so on so forth. 

There are a couple of the brass that aren't amused, but I think that's where Mav would come into play in his own way. Because Ice is good at what he does, and Mav sure as hell wants him around, and so should everyone else. Ice is just also not afraid to be an asshole about being good -- which the last person this is news to is Maverick. 

Maverick's just the only one Ice has encountered who can give as good as he gets, which is why as instructors, they do a pretty damn good job working together to whip their classes into shape. It's just funny that never in a million years did Mav think he'd be the "good cop" in their good cop/bad cop instructor situation, but he's resigned himself to his fate all the same. 

[couch-house]

wanted to play with how blaze would fit into stc, so I finally got around to watching a longplay of sonic rush. i hated it. the writing made me so mad. so here's a couple fleetway blaze doodles and a LOT of "here's how i would fix this story" doodles

[cosmicdreamgrl]

taehyung x on/black swan performances for @raplinenthusiasts [ cr: 0613data ]

[hauledbylove]

be friends (forlorn)

tim drake x fem!reader,

OR: going from friends to lovers is scary, but perhaps there is a chance for your ungodly, untimely crush—on Tim Drake himself, no less. they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder (and exponentially hornier).

wc: roughly 1.3k; part 1; part 2.

cw: injury mention; slight creeper!Tim; suggestive themes at the end.

the days have been different without Tim.

this is how summer is: time for travelling, or whatever holiday plan available with your savings. going out of state with your friend was a right decision, even if your time with Tim has been cut in half—if not more.

you scoff at yourself. is it even legal to be so head over heels with someone else?

you miss his smile and those thoughtful hums he makes when he divides his attention between three things at once; his angular face that looks strangely soft in the dim yellow light of a 24-hour coffeeshop he frequents when you two cannot sleep—or whenever you crave attention (even when it’s criminally late by societal standards). you’re used to his erratic sleep pattern and find it cute how he can nap anyplace and anytime—though you wish he slept when he was supposed to.

you’ve known him long enough to know he won’t change, and you’ve come to respect that.

sometimes, you swear, sometimes it feels like you’ve known him for longer than forever. immense comfort and safety his mere presence inspires warms you, makes the heart rattle behind your ribcage, a frantic bird not unlike his persona. bordering on horrifically pathetic.

you sigh and shake your head, rolling onto your stomach. you’re about to set your morning alarm when the screen lights up; 1 message from dream man. you should rename him, really.

Tim sends you a selfie, right arm in cast—no caption but the telling expression on his face. you text him immediately:

rough patrol?

I’m benched now.

need a helping hand?

you send it without thinking and then scold yourself; how transparent can you be, really?

no, I’m ambidextrous, Tim’s message reads.

you chuckle fondly; what a Tim thing to say. the innuendo either went past him or he opted to not acknowledge your futile attempts at flirting.

you wait another minute and sigh, leaving your phone be and staring at the ceiling. it’s your vacation: you should be happily drinking iced coffees in the morning and hike and wander to your heart’s abandon, but not having Tim—a constant buzz of messages in your trouser’s pocket—tears at your heart a little, darkens your mood. if only he were here, you think fruitlessly, and turn on some music to tune out your restless brain.

there’s no other text from him anyway; you’re too tired to make a conversation so late at night. you barely manage to find a comfortable position to fall asleep, what with your heart nagging at your chest and asking for your—or Tim’s, your mind supplies—undivided attention.

on the other side of the screen Tim is still staring thinkingly at your message history. he wants to text something else, ask about your day—schedule a call, if you’re free? he’s so lost to the world that he ends up ignoring Kon—until he throws a fry at Tim, eyebrows cocked.

“you listening?”

“yeah, no. sorry.”

Kon snatches Tim’s phone and whistles.

“dude, she was totally hitting on you.”

“what! no?” Tim frowns, looking at the messages himself. “was she?”

“she was, you weirdo,” he replies, amused, and lightly kicks Tim’s shoulder. “are you that oblivious?”

“am not,” Tim says defensively, worrying a napkin between his fingers. Kon huffs.

“liar, liar, pants on fire!” he taunts and makes Tim scowl. “is that your girl?”

Tim bites his lip, sighing heavily. how is he even supposed to answer? I’m so into her it hurts? I don’t function properly if I don’t check on her three times a day? I jump over CCTVs to walk her home when I’m not around to do it myself? I want her in my bed and my bath and my car and my clothes and my claim?

at last, he opts for,

“not yet.”

Kon smiles at him knowingly.

“playing hard to get?”

“no,” he says softly, “I just want to do it right.”

“I didn’t mean her,” Kon laughs, and it takes Tim a minute to comprehend what Kon said; he grumbles and steals his fries.

“super-asshole.”

“I’m realistic,” Kon clicks his tongue, “and you better do something about her. she must be sweet to have you so hung up. or as weird as you are.”

“that checks,” Tim laughs, shaking his head.

and yes, Kon thinks, it definitely checks. he hasn’t seen his friend so flustered over anyone; ever. that smile means more than Tim lets on.

they switch topics, and Tim pays as much attention to their conversation as he can, still desperately fixated on your texts—as well as a tangible absence from his routine that makes him chew on his lip uncontrollably.

you’re not in Gotham now, having left a few days ago to go for an out-of-state vacation. he remembers how giddy and excited you were, talking about all the natural sites and landscapes you wished to see; you’d even let him take a look at your itinerary, and he smiles now, thinking of that. he misses constant texting and lazy unproductive calls you two are prone to: when you’re set to finish whatever project crawls upon you and Tim is right there, headphones on and mind focused on WE papers, quietly humming to your rambles in his ear. he’s never declined a call with you, he thinks fondly; how could he, when he knows how cherished it makes you feel?

he digresses; Kon seems to abandon any attempt at a consistent conversation with him and it makes Tim wince and apologise.

“nah,” Kon says, waving his hand, “no hard feelings. maybe wanna talk about her?”

Tim entertains the idea briefly but ends up declining.

“not in the right mind for it,” he says, and then yawns almost immediately, “painkillers are hitting pretty hard too. wish it was sprained, honestly.”

they finish their food and decide to call it a night. Kon smiles mischievously and flies Tim home on a whim, very much unprompted, and steals a carton of juice from his fridge in the process. asshole.

the rest on the night (case work, washing up, a quick chat with Bruce) passes in a blur; Tim’s sure you’re asleep already. you two have a slight time difference now, and knowing he has a few hours on you relaxes him a bit; he’s gotten some proper time to finally think freely (rather brood, his inner voice teases, resembling yours heavily); time to think about you, him, and everything he’s afraid to ruin.

he recalls those damned messages.

ambidextrous, huh? Tim tuts, lazing in bed. he certainly can imagine a scenario where it can come in handy.

Tim doesn’t usually let himself think in that direction; too great a temptation to sneak his hand below the belt. he thanks his vivid imagination and restraint for keeping himself in check. however much it hurts and blue-balls him, Tim tries to get it out of his head.

how would he look you in the eye and not think about a specific fantasy of you he came to? of you: on your back and arching, hips quivering and pussy squelching; not a sound louder than heavy breathing past your lips. he’d stuff your cunt and your mouth with his fingers and fuck you rhythmically, moves eerily coordinated; his thumb brushing your puffy clit just once, as if teasing. your legs would shake to close around him on a particularly hard thrust of his hand, his rings a cool touch to your stretched rim. he would marvel at your whimpers and trembling stomach. would you be soft in bed or as feisty as you are in daily life? would you get off on bossing Tim around—or him you? how kinky would you be; and how desperate to have him near?

Tim hardens gradually, cock lightly tenting his sleeping pants. right; keeping himself in check. and failing.

[rcmclachlan]

several sentences sun monday

I was tagged yesterday by the lovely @setmeatopthepyre, but I got in late last night and couldn't muster the energy to post.

Here's another flashback snippet from my yet-unnamed fic. This little scene takes place sometime between 7x10 and 8x01.

+

"Chris and I used to go to the Griffith's All Space Considered thing once a month, and one of the coolest things they taught me is that debris disks are found around stars with older planet systems." He pulled up the photo of Fomalhaut that he liked to look at sometimes. The disk was shaped like a giant, red eye, with the star acting as a pin-prick pupil in its center. "I mean, they can form if, like, asteroids crash into each other, too. This one is only 25 light-years away, but it's not in our part of the sky right now. We could look at Vega, though! Vega's got one, too."

It was second nature to open the Star Walk app, but tonight it felt almost superfluous, considering he could easily make out most of the constellations LA's light pollution normally hid. He held up his phone, slowly moving it until he landed in the Lyra constellation, a faded image of a harp superimposed over that patch of sky. He tilted his head so Tommy could see the screen.

"Very cool. Remind me to make you watch Contact at some point," Tommy murmured, reaching up to adjust the phone for a better look.

As Tommy studied it, his index finger started tapping almost thoughtfully against Buck's second knuckle, and then, haltingly, he covered Buck's hand on the phone case with his own and guided the phone leftward to a different point in the sky. Their fingers slid together. Buck wanted to throw his head back and howl at the sheer intimacy of it. He settled for gasping out a breath and chubbing up in his jeans.

Finally, the phone came to a stop, and on the screen the star map rearranged itself to accommodate the new position, and the image of the harp became a dog. Canis minor, it read.

Buck looked away from the screen and used their arms as a sightline to try and find the actual constellation in the sky.

"Is that your favorite? It's a good one. I love dogs."

Tommy's breath washed over his ear, dredging up goosebumps in its wake. "There's... there's a star in it."

"More than one, usually." Buck was loathe to break the hush of the night, but he couldn't help himself, so he split the difference to tease Tommy as quietly as he could, although it was probably drowned out by the pounding of his heart.

Where it held the phone up, Buck's hand began to shake, although he wasn't entirely sure why. He'd held up 50lb kettlebells for way longer. On the screen, the big, bright star in the dog's flank gained a name.

"I-Is it that one? Procyon?"

"No," Tommy said, just as quietly. "Not that one."

+

No pressure tags: @dadvans, @firehose118, @screamlet, @liminalmemories21, @beanarie, @geddyqueer, @leashybebes, @dharmaavocado

[gunsatthaphan]

"you want me to fall for you?"

[sweaterrat]

lemlav kiss featuring Human donnie (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!!)

[the-unconquered-queen]

The cast of Blades of Light and Shadow and their Perfect Match types

Ever since I did my Blades/Elementalists attunement crossover to mark the anniversary of the Blades series, I’ve known I wanted to do something like this to mark the wide release of book three, and I love me some Perfect Match and the types system, so what better way than by incorporating that into a piece?

So the match types you see here are based on what we’ve seen of these characters up to book two, so any character evolution they may undergo in book three is not accounted for. You might also notice that, when deciding each character’s type, I went off of the core four traits instead of the match name or description, unless I needed a tiebreaker.

Finally, MC’s type is pretty subjective, as I’m sure everyone has a different idea of what their MCs are like, so for the sake of this edit set, Raine’s type is based on which traits she displays most in canon.

So, are you swiping right?

[academiccore]

is everyone ready for my super serious neongum / gabisack + prosenna theory. okay so basically the theory goes that there is like a variation of prosenna every four-ish years (so like once a generation) and while the 2000s make this weird and wishy-washy its mika + michael, kimi + fernando, seb + mark, lewis + nico, max + charles, and then while it could be lando + oscar i choose to believe that mclaren is evil and sinister so it actually skips them and then goes straight into gabriel + isack. they're called pequena senna and le petite prost its literally written in the fates. the fight for their f2 title?? need it again immediately. im insane about them.

[shkika]

discovering that making art was never about it being good actually and internalizing it is life-changing

to be good at your craft should feel good and if it doesn't something is wrong

[somanywords]

yes it's not totally steve rogers centric but it is partially steve rogers centric and i love to post/share new content for his birthday so...polling the people :)

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Power Play (Imprisoning War)

Zelda couldn’t really get a moment’s peace, and it was starting to drive her a little insane today.

With the war over, she’d developed new daily habits and schedules. Some rituals from the war bled over, such as her morning meeting with her council, gathering information on the events around Hyrule. During the war, she’d spend the next few hours discussing matters with the war council, but as that was no longer an issue, she spent the remainder of her morning allowing her people to have an audience with her. The nobles typically were there as well, watching and waiting for opportunities, and they would swarm her by midday. Her court would gobble up the rest of her time, and by evening she was exhausted.

Her pregnancy had not helped matters.

Mornings were spent trying not to throw up while she received news of her kingdom. She’d nearly grown hysterical when someone from House Laruson had tried to talk to her. She’d already snapped at Impa earlier for no apparent reason.

She didn’t even know who she was anymore. Her body didn’t feel like her own. She’d only just barely started to show signs of the life she was growing, and it was both magical and terrifying.

She wondered if this was how her mother felt. Probably not. Her mother had hardly been queen for more than a few months, and she’d married into the royal family, so it wasn’t the same. But she wondered if her pregnancy had felt like this.

Would Zelda die too from giving birth? Would she bleed as her mother had?

And now that she could no longer hide her pregnancy from the world, she felt even more vulnerable and terrified.

She hated feeling this scared. She hated having to find somewhere to hide every few hours so she could cry. She hadn’t even had the chance to do that today, simply faking a cough or a sneeze to hide her face long enough to wipe the tears away. A member of House Serenne had kindly offered that perhaps she should take time off until she was capable of fulfilling her duties again, had kindly said his house would happily take up the slack.

As if they needed any more excuse to claim more power.

When Zelda rounded the corner, frazzled and angry and dizzy as she was, she nearly ran into Impa yet again.

She burst into tears.

Her closest advisor stared at her a moment, blinking, eyes wide, and Zelda wanted to just lock herself in a closet. Lady Impa pulled out a handkerchief, handing it gently to the queen, who buried her face in it.

“Your Majesty, let’s go outside,” the Sheikah chief advised.

Zelda listened, sniffling and trying to get herself together as she was guided outdoors. She wasn’t entirely sure where Impa was taking her, but they seemed to walk for quite some time. Her world was spinning, and she stumbled a little on the last few steps, feet slipping out of her sandals. It was blessedly cool out, as the days had grown stiflingly hot from summer, making the castle nearly unbearable sometimes in the throne room. She had almost foregone wearing the tan fabric that draped over her light blue sleeveless dress. She was surprised the skin paint on her arms hadn’t started to drip away with her sweat. But out here, the breeze blew gently, a cool relief, and her desperate, quiet sobs turned to hiccups.

When they finally stopped, Zelda wiped her face with the handkerchief and looked up. They were in one of the more secluded gardens of the castle, an area that she had sometimes visited with her father in the rare moments they’d actually spent time in the same space before the war. It had been one of his favorite spots. A small fountain sat in the center of the space, which was sequestered from the rest of the gardens by a gate, and flower bushes of all sorts lined the area in a circular pattern, making it an enclosed nesting place for fuzzy buzzing insects and all kinds of birds. The sound of trickling water filled her mind, filtering out the words of everyone clawing for her attention and power all day, and birdsong filled the air. The sky was pink and gold, a last sigh of light from the sun, dying embers fading beyond the castle walls as night came to take over and bring an end to her miserable day.

Zelda found the stone bench where her father used to sit, and she started crying again.

Impa put a hand on her shoulder, and Zelda immediately turned to her, burying her face in the woman’s neck. Impa’s hand slid to her back, the other carefully cupping the back of her head, and she just held her as the eighteen-year-old queen finally just let down her barriers and wept uncontrollably.

She wished she could talk to her father. He had never really been one to give her advice on anything, but he had always listened… at least before the war.

Maybe she was just being stupid. She just wanted to keep being held and cry until she didn’t have the energy to move.

But she couldn’t sit still that long. She was queen, and if she didn’t step up, someone else would. Someone who was undeserving, someone who craved power and control, someone she couldn’t afford to let anywhere near her people or her kingdom. Zelda had to keep everything and everyone in line.

It was just getting harder to do, and she felt lonelier every day.

At least she had Impa.

She wished she had Link too. She hadn’t seen him for over a week, at a dinner celebrating the completion of one of the restoration projects. It was a smaller one, but Zelda had thought it worth celebrating any victory they could have. Link had barely spoken, but he’d kept a careful eye on her the entire night; at the time, he was one of a select few who knew she was pregnant.

“What’s wrong, Zelda?” Lady Impa asked softly.

Zelda hiccuped, realizing she really had just sobbed on the poor woman with no context whatsoever. It almost made her laugh, but embarrassment won out.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, pulling away, feeling like a disaster. “I—it’s nothing.”

Honestly, she would have been better off saying nothing than such a pathetic excuse for a lie. She was fairly certain her unborn child could have done a better job of trying to brush off the issue.

To her credit, Lady Impa knew better than to push, giving Zelda a moment to take a breath. She didn’t feel comfortable confiding everything in the woman, despite how completely trustworthy she was – Zelda had never truly confided in anyone. She’d gotten close with Impa and Link, but ever since the wedding she’d steadily felt a growing sting of betrayal towards Link. It just… didn’t sit right with her, the way he refused to step up and do his duty.

Well, he had stepped up in some ways. He’d helped her create this child, after all. But she’d had to order him and drag him to everything and anything else. She was growing tired of it and hadn’t bothered tracking him down in the last week.

She was beginning to wonder if he even cared.

But she couldn’t say such things to Impa. As much as she wanted to, she knew Lady Impa also loved Link. Perhaps she could offer insight on the matter, but…

But Zelda didn’t want to get into it. She just wanted it to be resolved. Sighing, she simply said, “I have a lot on my mind, and this pregnancy… well, I don’t really have any frame of reference for it. I don’t know what’s normal and what isn’t, and it’s… scaring me a little.”

At least she was being honest about that. And the Sheikah chief smiled a little, offering, “I can have one of the midwives of Kakariko come speak with you, if you like.”

Honestly… she would like that. She wasn’t sure if it would make her more anxious or less, but at least it would offer her information. She hated being in the dark like this, out of control and blind. She nodded, feeling a little better. “Yes, thank you. I… I would like that.”

With that, the queen rose, feeling a little more like herself, tears drying in the breeze. She had one more matter to attend to today, and then she would go to her bedchamber and rest. Lady Impa gave her one last reassuring smile before saying she would speak to her people on the matter this evening.

As Zelda walked the halls alone, the last vestiges of dusk spilled into one of the training courtyards, glimmering on blades as they clashed.

Link panted as he looked down at his opponent. His dulled training blade had made quick work of the man, chipping at his armor and knocking him to the cobblestone. The soldier huffed as the others cheered for the king consort.

One of the few Sheikah in the area, Simek, approached. “That should be enough for the day, Your Majesty. I believe you defeated all of the contenders.”

Link felt like he’d hardly done as much, but the ache in his bad leg indicated he might actually need to take a break; it hardly ever bothered him unless he overexerted himself. Sighing, he sheathed the training sword, backing away as the soldier dusted himself off and stood.

He’d been sparring since noon. He supposed that made it a good day. At least he’d managed to get outside.

He wondered how long he could sustain a life like this, where his primary benchmark that it had been a success was that he’d managed to get out of bed. He shook his head, disgusted with himself, and walked indoors, mood souring.

Maybe a bath would help him feel a little better. Or he should probably check on Zelda; despite avoiding her immediately after their marriage, he’d tried to ensure she was safe once he’d found out about the baby. He swore he’d heard the servants speaking of the queen’s pregnancy. Was it finally showing?

He wasn’t… he wasn’t sure he wanted to see her, then. Anxiety filled his stomach, making him nauseous. He shook his head, though, trying to push beyond it. He was being more than pathetic, he was being downright childish.

He didn’t understand why it was getting harder every day to just function, why he was feeling steadily more trapped as the reality of his situation truly settled in, and he hated it.

Sighing, he rubbed dirt and sweat off his forehead and wandered the halls aimlessly. He wasn’t entirely sure which direction he was going, and he paused, trying to reorient himself.

Something nagged him all of a sudden, as if he were forgetting to do a task, or had misplaced something. He looked around and stared when he caught notice of it.

The hallway was empty.

“Your Majesty?”

Startled, Link turned around hastily, feeling on edge. A guard watched him, and then said, “Your Majesty, Queen Zelda requests your presence in the throne room.”

Off balance, Link nodded, moving to follow the guard towards the center of the castle.

It was nighttime. Why was Zelda in the throne room? Was she okay?

This hallway was empty.

No castle hallway was empty. One to two guards always flanked an entrance to each corridor, the number varying based on the location. Link had spent hours of time doing such assignments for years as a castle guard.

Link froze.

The guard turned. “Your Majesty? Is everything all right?”

“Where are the guards?” Link asked, voice heavy.

The soldier blinked, eyes darting around the area. “The… guards, sire? I’m right here.”

“Why does the queen want me?” Link continued, taking a calculated step towards the Hylian.

“I’m not sure, Your Majesty,” the guard answered, facing him more fully. He had stiffened his posture.

He was gearing up for a fight.

Link crouched quickly, reaching for the knife he hid in his boot. He moved fast enough to catch the man off guard, but the soldier still drew his blade as Link darted toward him. The knife dug in easily between plates of armor, making the man gasp and fall to the ground.

Adrenaline rushed through him like ice, and then he burst into motion.

Zelda. I have to get to her.

He knew where she definitely wasn’t – the guard wouldn’t have been trying to guide him to her if he wanted her dead. The throne room was either an ambush or a ruse, but no matter what, Zelda wasn’t there.

How many people were involved in this? Where were the guards who were supposed to be there?

Link tore down the hallway to find the usual regimen of soldiers in the halls once more, and his panic downgraded a hair, long enough for him to realize this couldn’t be across the entire castle. He demanded, “Where’s the queen?”

The soldiers jumped, caught off guard, and one reported, “I believe she’s going to her quarters, sire—”

That was all Link needed. He rushed ahead.

Meanwhile, Zelda had finally sat heavily on the chair in front of her vanity, slowly wiping away skin paint as she tried to unwind for the day. One of her servants approached, but she dismissed her with a wave and request, just wanting to be alone.

The maid didn’t leave.

Across the castle, Impa received a report that two Hylian guards had been found dead, tucked away in a closet. Simek reported in that he’d been trying to find Link and instead found another guard down with Link’s knife in his abdomen. The guard himself had pulled the blade out when Simek had demanded to know what was going on, bleeding to death quickly.

Which meant it was an assassin.

The Sheikah were placed on high alert, and Impa immediately ordered for the king and queen to be found.

It was easy to find the king, at least, as he shoved his way through anyone in his path, but impossible to keep up with him.

As for the queen, Zelda slowly turned to the maid, directly saying, “I told you to leave.”

The maid didn’t speak, drawing closer as she reached into her sleeve, and Zelda felt her heart jump into her throat. She rose quickly, toppling over the chair she’d been sitting on, warm magic at her fingers as she cast a familiar barrier between herself and the attacker, who had brandished a blade in the time it had taken her to cast the spell. It was sloppily formed, and without the extra help of the Triforce of Wisdom to boost its power, it might not even last long.

This attacker was not Ganondorf, though. She did not wield a Triforce piece, nor have enough magic to destroy the castle. In fact, she looked surprised that Zelda had used any magic at all.

Nevertheless, she started to slash at the barrier, not interested in using Zelda as bait like Ganondorf had months ago. Instead, she wore on the magic’s defenses, and Zelda gasped as the barrier shattered.

“Zelda!”

The voice was distant but distinct, and it might as well have been a deliverance right then and there with the relief the queen felt. “Link! Link, I’m in my room, come q—”

Zelda screamed as her attacker brought her blade (was that a scimitar?!) down on her, but the door burst open, and Link had a guardian sword tearing into the woman’s chest before she could finish the blow. Zelda looked away, horrified, still seeing the glow of the Sheikah weapon in her peripheral vision until Link retracted it. The imposter fell to the floor with a loud thud.

Her husband was at her side in an instant, hands on her shoulders, red eyes searching her from head to toe. “Are you hurt?”

Zelda shook her head, breathless and terrified, and she reached for him, holding him and trembling. He reciprocated the hug tightly, but she could feel his head turning as he continued to watch their surroundings.

“Are there more?” She asked, voice shaking.

Footsteps approached, and Link released her in an instant, positioning her behind him protectively as he drew his sword once more, but only Sheikah entered the room, followed swiftly by Lady Impa.

“There’s a fake guard,” Link immediately said. “Down in—”

“Simek found him,” Lady Impa confirmed, nodding. “But he killed himself before we could interrogate him.”

“Are they Gerudo?” One of the Sheikah asked, glancing at the attacker’s weapon.

“What?” Link hissed, looking at the floor. He kicked the attacker’s body, shoving her on to her back with his boot, and looked her over. “She doesn’t look remotely Gerudo. Whoever planned this, they were going to leave this sword here to frame them.”

“Don’t be so hasty to come to conclusions—” Simek tried to say, but Link snapped, cutting him off.

“This wasn’t the Gerudo, they aren’t this sloppy. Do you not recall their assault to steal the Triforce? When they plan a mission, it’s far more organized than this.”

Zelda didn’t know what was happening. She just wanted it to be over. Her hand rested over her abdomen, heart racing.

Link’s face was flushed, red eyes murderous as he looked around the room and focused on the attacker once more. She hadn’t seen him this worked up or focused since they’d fought Ganondorf. But his gaze softened when he looked at her once more, though only to an extent. Rage turned to analysis, examining her again, tinged with worry, before he turned to Lady Impa. “Gather the bodies. I’ll meet you in the council room. We need to figure out who did this. Simek, take five men and guard her.”

“No,” Zelda said suddenly, trying to take control of what had happened. “I—I’ll go with you. We can figure this out together.”

Link watched her a moment, face stony, but he didn’t argue. Nodding, he motioned for her to stay close to him. She obliged, her mind and heart racing.

How had—what had—how did they even get into the castle—

She tried to center herself, tried to look at this as a puzzle instead of a terrifying attempt on her life, on her baby’s life.

Goddesses. The baby.

“They’re doing this because I’m pregnant,” she whispered shakily, hands going to her child protectively.

“News hasn’t traveled that quickly, has it?” Simek asked.

“Not fast enough to leave Castle Town, I don’t think,” Lady Impa muttered. “There could be many reasons for this attack.”

Link and Zelda exchanged a look as the Sheikah elders deliberated the matter. Understanding settled between them, the same kind that they used to share during the war.

The nobles.

It was a bold accusation to make, and one that would need very hard evidence. Zelda wasn’t sure they would even be able to get such evidence from two dead bodies and no other leads. The issue became more apparent as they discussed possibilities in the council room. Every single noble house had an alibi, based on the information Lady Impa could gather.

Simek was convinced it was Gerudo spies who had managed to get the information to their chief. Link shot the idea down every time. Zelda herself knew it was possible, but not very likely. After all, though she did not know Hemisi very well, there were a few things she could glean that immediately shut down any argument about it being a Gerudo attack.

Most notably, Hemisi was a woman of action. She would do this herself rather than send someone. If she were to use an assassin, though, she would have warned the attackers about Zelda’s magic, and most especially about Link’s fighting prowess.

These attackers had managed to infiltrate the castle and set themselves up in the perfect places, but they hadn’t been prepared enough. They had underestimated Zelda’s ability to defend herself, and they had assumed Link would just go along with the guard’s ploy blindly.

This reeked of the nobility’s folly and arrogance. Zelda could tell just from the assumptions made behind the maneuvers. Link could tell from the sloppiness of the assault.

Despite both monarchs pointing this out, though, Lady Impa made a statement they couldn’t counter.

“No one will ever believe such accusations without adequate proof, not just deductions. If you arrest a noble, assuming you could figure out which one staged it, it would look like tyranny.”

Link bit his lip, cheeks flushing in frustration. Zelda felt similarly, but she understood the politics of the matter far better. Still, she could at least say, “An attack is an attack, though. We will increase security so they do not get a chance to try again. Lady Impa, I trust you can be discreet and watch them?”

“Absolutely,” she confirmed, eyes hard. “I will call back the Sheikah from the field. Your security is a priority.”

Zelda swallowed, not quite sure she wanted all the forces she’d sent out to return, but far too scared for her child’s safety to argue. Was this the true purpose, she wondered? Stalling reinforcing Hyrule’s crippled military?

What was there to gain from such folly? The nobles were far more paranoid about the Gerudo than Zelda was.

It was far more likely they simply thought the assassination attempt would actually succeed. Zelda shuddered thinking about it.

“We’ll dispose of the bodies,” Simek finally said as the meeting was coming to an end.

“No,” Link ordered, standing. “I will handle the bodies.”

Before Zelda could question the matter, he turned to her. “Get some rest. Lady Impa will guard you.”

For a moment, Zelda didn’t know what to do. Link was hardly ever this decisive and calculated, certainly not in the months since their marriage. She felt hope glimmer in her heart, a faith restored in him that had been fracturing. She nodded. “Okay.”

As the queen was escorted back to her quarters, which had been tidied up in her absence, Link fumed, marching towards the place where the bodies were being held.

He knew the nobles were power hungry and selfish. He knew that. But to think they would make an attempt on the queen’s life, on her unborn child and heir. Of course they would try now, when they thought she was most vulnerable, when Link was quiet and sticking to the shadows, barely able to get out of bed, hardly noticed by the public.

After giving up his freedom to save Hyrule, there were still enemies who would dare try to harm others. And they were Hylians.

He wasn’t sure if he hated them as much as Ganondorf, or if he would need more time to nurture such a disdain.

Do you actually hate him, though?

Link jerked his head in a violent attempt to shake the thought. Of course he did. And it didn’t matter anymore, anyway.

What mattered was sending a message. The queen’s hands were tied, but Link’s were not.

In the morning, the queen’s court slowly trickled its way into the throne room. Daylight spilled in through the large windows, shining on armor, illuminating symbols of Hyrule’s history and royal family. People squinted as the sun stung their eyes, startling them awake.

Daylight reflected on a puddle on the floor, dull, dull red and drying. Sunlight didn’t hurt the blank eyes that stared into nothing.

Nobles gasped as they saw the two bodies on the floor in front of the stairs that led to the throne. An uneasy chatter rang around the room as the crowd instinctively backed away before their gaze moved upward.

Link sat on the throne, sword propped in front of him. It’s blade sank into the carpet as his left hand lazily rested overtop the hilt, red eyes tearing into everyone who looked at him. The evidence of the nobility’s crimes remained motionless at his feet.

He didn’t have to say anything. Nor did they. Everyone had already heard the news of an attempt on the queen’s life. Everyone knew what this meant. The room grew dead silent.

After he’d looked over every single face, Link slowly rose, and he motioned to the guards to take the bodies away. Shortly after, the herald pronounced Zelda’s arrival, and Link walked down the stairs as she entered the throne room, unaware of what had just happened. Link offered her a hand to help her up the stairs, a purposeful gesture that he knew everyone was noting, and then knelt when she sat at the throne.

Then he left the room, left the queen to her own battlefield, and went to bed, anger slowly extinguishing as his point had been made.

There was never another attempt like that again.

[serenagrey]