#snails tales

[snailsandpuppy-dogtails]

She Knows I Love Her

Garvez ~1,000 wc

“I need to tell you something”

He texts the message out in a flurry, words appearing before him in a flood of rum soaked impulsivity, finger jabbing send before he can convince himself not to.

The breath that’d been stuck in his chest escapes in a huff, shoulders slumping, he signals for another shot, watching for the glow of the phone face-down on the polished bar top in front of him. 

Downing the next sip of courage, still waiting for the tell tale glow, his foot bounces on the stool rung, Luke impatiently grabbing his phone and turning it over. Maybe he missed it when he glanced away or when he tipped his head back. 

Thumb swiping, he sees the notification and the tight line his mouth had been making tilts down. Grasping the phone with both hands his thumbs hesitate over the letters. Should he continue?

She’s left him on read.

No three little dots appearing and vanishing, no response. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say. But it wasn’t what she thought…or maybe it is. If she were a profiler there’d be no way she couldn’t tell...He’d been pretty shit at hiding it these past few months, and then when she said she was leaving he couldn’t be bothered to hide it at all. He wanted her to know…he thought she wanted him to know too. It’s what gave him the courage to ask in the first place, he was just waiting for her position to become official before he made it official… He needed to tell her. So he could be sure she knew. So he knew.

His left hand lets go and signals the bartender for another. He’s thankful it’s a slow night, but he’s also careful about the places he goes, this one he hasn’t even told the team about, but it’s a few blocks from his place and generally low-key. The weather was nice out tonight, so he went for a walk and ended up here. 

The bartender brings him his fourth shot of rum, the same kind she’d gotten him for the house warming. He hadn’t been a big rum drinker before that, there’s just something about Penelope Garcia, you let her in, let her change your whole life.

This time he lets the drink pool on his tongue, it’s caramel and vanilla and spice and he can instantly tell why she chose it, why she gave it to him. He closes his eyes imagining her drinking it too, imagining them sharing that bottle, imagining the taste of it on her…then swallows, the alcohol burning warm down his throat. He pushes a hard breath out, lungs feeling like collapsing and opens his eyes again, releasing the shot glass and taking up the phone.

If he didn’t do it now he never would. His mother didn’t raise a coward. 

Again he starts typing before he can talk himself out of it. 

“The other night was bad, I know. And I know you saw that text just now so I know you’re seeing this …I also know that wasn’t us. Those people on that date that wasn’t us. You and me. The place. I got worked up and in my head and it was bad, but it doesn't matter because I love you."

“I just need you to know.” 

There’s a knot it his stomach as he waits. He doesn’t put the phone down, he watches, eyes glued to the screen. He watches as it shows she’s read the message. Watches as no little dots appear… as nothing happens. As nothing changes. He waits five minutes, and then fifteen. He waits an hour and there’s no response. He pays his tab and walks home. At least he told her. At least she knows. 

—

“I need to tell you something”

She was at home knitting, adjusting to this new, slower life, this life that wasn’t literally based around life or death. She was also trying not to think about him, trying to let the possibilities just slide away. 

Sergio stops “assisting” with the excess yarn at the same time her needles stop klinking, Penelope stopping at the message that had popped up.

She didn’t need his excuses, she’d made one for the both of them, he didn’t owe her an explanation, they’d be fine, but she didn’t owe him any more slack either. She needed to love herself more. She needed to not constantly fall into these patterns. And ok, twice isn’t really a pattern, and it wasn’t really the same… but it kind of was, only this time he’d gotten mixed up too. But the date straightened that out. The date was bad, she could tell he’d realized instantly it was a mistake. And it was a mistake… a mistake to think he could have those feelings. Sometimes friend love gets confused for more… She’d had that happen before, she understood, so she was letting them both off the hook, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t need some time. 

Swiping the text open, reading it again, her chest aches tender and tight, what more was there to say?  There was nothing, so she said nothing and went back to her knitting.

After a few minutes, she thinks she's safe, that he understands, that she doesn’t want his ‘sorry,’ that he doesn’t need to give one. But then there’s a block of text. 

Alvez. He was sweet. He was feeling guilty, feeling the need to smooth over barbs that weren’t there. She doesn’t want to read whatever let-her-down-easy words he has for her, she knows what it says, what it always says, some version of ‘We’re still ok, right? We’re still friends”…Friends. She never should have let herself believe there could be more, let herself feel more. The ache in her chest throbs and swells filling her throat tight.

She drops the needles in her lap taking up her phone, reading the full text, not wanting to, but unable to resist the wiggling curiosity rearing through her. She could delete it before reading, but she'd always wonder what he'd come up with. 

That wasn’t us. 

Those people on that date

you and me

it was bad

but

I love you

It’s all there, just like she’d thought. ‘Those people on that date weren’t us’- the implication that they shouldn’t have tried, they were just friends…friendly. Frienimies. ‘I don’t care because I love you’ - it’s ok that we went on a shitty date, it’s okay, because nothing’s changed, right? We’re good? He loves her. Like a friend. 

And that’s fine. 

But she thinks she maybe doesn’t love him like a friend…and that will take time. That will take distance.

Penelope turns her phone off and puts it back on the table next to her, she takes a sip of tea to loosen the pain collecting in her throat and picks up her needles again and doesn’t think about Luke Alvez. 

[fairydropart]

Watch your step!!!

[inkyami]

Illustration from "Tell me a sto.." by Una Hart. The book follows the evolution of most famous fairy-tales through time and how many fun, bizarre and dark versions there are.

For Rapunzel I leaned heavily into Renaissance fashions, considering her Italian origin, but the whole book is stylized with medieval aesthetic in mind.

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[sagebetweenthepages]

[snailsandstrawberries]

I dreamed that dan and phil posted a picture of them kissing while holding a pride flag at wwwy and we all freaked out (duh) but then we looked closer and went. hmm those hands look weird. hmm those faces are a bit odd. wait what is going on in the background-

and then everyone got very angry about them using ai and lying to us and then I woke up

[alrauna]

Annie Stegg Gerard (@anniestegg)

[mothfables]

Snail Ch. 3: Doctors Knew Before I Did

The Chain has their first monster battle with little Legend. Also, Wind joins Sky in Legend’s list of trusted people.

Wind is staring.

He knows it’s rude, but he can’t help it! Seeing the Veteran, usually so confident and self-assured, now so quiet, frightened even, is strange.

...Though, he supposes he’d be scared too if he was suddenly small and surrounded by strangers.

But they’re not strangers to him, not really! Which is good, because he’s not sure what they’d do if little Legend didn’t remember them at all. Try really really hard to prove they’re not going to hurt him, probably, going off of his reaction when he first saw them.

—————————

Wind hadn’t known what to think when it happened — only that one moment their Veteran was there and the next he wasn’t. Seeing him so small had set off his protective instincts something fierce, though, and he’d torn into the monsters going after his suddenly-defenseless brother. He wasn’t alone in that, either; Twilight, Wars, and even Hyrule were especially vicious in their efforts to reach him.

And then the monsters were gone and they’d barely gotten a glimpse of him before he disappeared into the trees faster than Wind could blink.

When Sky brings him back Wind finds himself shocked. Legend is tiny and timid and shy, clinging to the older hero in a way older Legend wouldn’t be caught dead doing. He’s even smaller than Four, somehow.

At least he seems to trust Sky. The Chosen is hard not to, honestly, with his kind face and soft demeanor. If it were to be anyone out of their group to gain little Legend’s trust, it would be him.

They all introduce themselves at Sky’s prompting and Wind watches his newly-little brother closely. He’s worried about what’s going through that ever-busy mind, violet eyes flicking between them with a wariness he’s only ever seen when facing dangerous enemies. The boy spooks badly when Warriors and Time speak up, little ears pressing flat against his head and eyes going wide-wide-wide. When it’s his turn, Wind makes sure to keep his body language loose and unthreatening, despite how much he feels like vibrating out of his own skin; it seems to help because Legend untenses just the slightest bit. Wind takes it as a victory.

And then: “‘m Legend. I know you.”

Things get very loud very fast. Wind doesn’t look away from Legend and so he sees the way he cowers into Sky, little shoulders hiking up to his ears and hands clenching the older hero’s pants in tiny fists as he trembles and hides his face. Wind is struck by how much he looks like Aryll when she’s scared or overwhelmed, clinging to Granny or himself for comfort.

He watches as Sky murmurs to Legend, trying to figure out what’s wrong. He’s about to step forward and see if he can help when Sky straightens, snapping his fingers to gain everyone’s attention before signing ‘QUIET!!!’

Amazingly, it works. They all promptly shut up and turn to the Chosen Hero and the child plastered to his side. Sky is glaring fiercely, one hand petting soft pink hair and the other resting protectively against a small back.

Time steps forward, kneeling so as to be closer to Legend’s current eye level. The boy peeks out at him for a moment before hiding his face again. Wind catches a glimpse of teary eyes and pale cheeks and feels that surge of protectiveness again. Legend shouldn’t ever have to look like that; he’ll do whatever it takes to keep that look away from his brother’s face in the future.

Time asks Legend about what he remembers and- oh, yeah, that’s probably a good thing to know. His stuttered answer has more than one of them wincing. Wind sneaks a glance around and sees Four muttering ‘...jumbly?’ with a confused expression. Wild looks especially distressed and Wind recalls suddenly the Champion’s own memory issues.

Right.

This would be uncomfortably familiar to Wild, wouldn’t it. Wind makes a note to check on him later, or at least point Twilight in his direction if he can’t do it himself.

And then Sky is kneeling down and drawing Legend into a hug. He leans into it without complaint, still obviously overwhelmed and confused and upset. Sky rocks side to side, and to Wind’s amazement Legend calms almost instantly, tucking his face into Sky’s neck with a sigh.

Sky remains there for a few more moments, humming softly and petting his hair. Then he stands and hoists Legend onto her hip with a grunt. Legend doesn’t react beyond a small sound and nestling closer.

“Oof, he’s- really light, actually.” Sky blinks in surprise.

Twilight chuckles, though it sounds a little strained. “Kids’re either lighter or heavier than ya expect. Don’t worry too much ‘bout it.”

“If you say so.” Sky looks doubtful but doesn’t argue. She glances at Time where he still kneels on the ground. “We should probably get moving. I don’t want anything else coming along and taking us by surprise.”

Their leader nods and pushes himself to his feet, groaning. Wind has to bite his lip to muffle a snicker. Old Man indeed.

“Let’s find a place off the road to settle down for the night. We can figure what out to do from there. Does everyone have everything?” There’s a chorus of assent.

“Wait!” Sky gasps. “Does anyone have Legend’s things? I don’t remember seeing them when he ran off.”

There’s a moment where they all scramble to look around for them before Wild speaks up. “I grabbed them after you went after him. His weapons and jewelry and everything are all in the Slate.”

Sky sighs in relief.

“Alright, that’s good to hear. Thank you for doing that, Wild.” With a nod, Time sets off down the road in the direction they were going before everything went to shit and the rest of them follow after. Sky stays in the middle of the group, Legend secure in his arms. Everyone else sticks close, keeping an eye out for more danger.

Wind walks next to Sky, sneaking glances every so often, so he’s able to see how Legend clings tight to the older hero, how he keeps his face hidden. Over time he relaxes and seems to fall into a doze, only to startle awake when someone starts to speak. His ears - which are so small! but still very long, which is something Wind’s noticed to be unique to him - flicker uneasily, listening intently to everything around him. Nothing happens for a few minutes and he relaxes again. Then someone else opens their mouth and the cycle repeats.

Eventually they find a place to stop for the night. Camp is set and dinner is eaten without much conversation. Legend doesn’t once let go of Sky.

It’s only once the boy has fallen into an uneasy sleep that someone speaks up.

“...So, what do we do about this?” Four is the one to break the silence. “Do we let it run it’s course? Or do we try to break or reverse it somehow?”

“Do we even have anything that could undo something like this?” Warriors asks.

“Well, I have my moon pearl, but it’s meant to protect you while in the Dark World or from dark magic. Like Twilight’s shadow chrystal,” they explain at Wars’ questioning look. “I know for a fact Legend always keeps his on him, so it should have protected him if it was that sort of magic.”

Twilight’s guilty wince goes unnoticed by all except Sky and Wind. He watches as she narrows her eyes, glancing between the Rancher and the child in her lap before they go wide in realization. Wind frowns; there’s definitely a story there.

Meanwhile, Hyrule is looking closely at Legend from their place beside Sky, brows furrowed. Their head tilts as they mutter under their breath. Wind, sitting on their other side, can barely make out the words spell, curse, natural magic, and twist, maybe? When they pause to take a breath Wind nudges them with his shoulder.

“Got anythin’ ya want ta share, Traveler?”

Hyrule startles before stammering, “O-oh! Uh, I was just- trying to figure out what exactly, um- caused this?” His voice rises in uncertainty.

“That would be good to know,” Wars says, nodding. “What have you got so far?”

Hyrule hums. “It’s- Well, I think it was originally supposed to be a dark spell? Or some sort of curse, maybe.”

Four narrows his eyes at the phrasing. “‘Supposed to be’? So you’re saying it... changed somehow? How would that happen?”

“I’m not sure, but...” Hyrule bites his lip. “His natural magic might have- I dunno, caught it and... twisted it, is the closest thing I can think of. Or maybe some of his items; they’re filled with enough magic to cause a pretty significant rebound.”

“Perhaps it was a mix of both,” Time muses. “The Veteran does carry a large array of powerful items. It’s possible that something in his inventory had some sort of reaction to whatever it was that was intended to hit him.”

It’s quiet for a moment as everyone takes that in. Then Legend snuffles against Sky’s shoulder and Wind has to bite back a coo.

“You must admit, he’s pretty cute like this,” Wars mutters, like he doesn’t intend for anyone to hear. Wind can hear him just fine, and makes it clear by agreeing loudly enough that Wars gives him the stink-eye from across the fire.

“Yeah, he is, isn’t he? Reminds me o’ Aryll when she was little.”

Wars coughs. “So... Do we have anything that could reverse this?”

Twilight hums for a moment before snapping his fingers. “When I got changed t’ the wolf fer the first time, I had ta use the Master Sword ta reverse it. Think tha’ would work here, Sky?”

Sky chews her lip, absentmindedly running a hand through Legend’s hair as she stares at the fire. “It... might,” she says finally, though it sounds unsure. “If- Fi is made to dispel dark... If what Hyrule said is true and Legend’s magic changed it... It might do nothing. Or it might make it worse.” Time flinches imperceptibly. “Since his memory was so affected by the initial change, I’m worried what trying to undo it might do.”

It’s silent for a while after that. Everyone wants Legend to be okay, of course, but if it’s at the cost of his memories...

“I think...” Hyrule starts quietly, like they’re thinking through the words as he says them, “it might be best if we let this run its course. Or at least wait and see how things go before trying to change him back.”

“I agree. Memories are- delicate.” Wild speaks up. “If we can keep him from losing any or messing them up any more than they are, we should do our best to do that.”

No one objects. After a moment Time clears his throat.

“I suppose we are all in agreement, then? We’ll see how things go and use the Master Sword only if necessary?” There’s various sounds of agreement around the fire. Time lets out a breath before slapping his knees and pushing to his feet.

“I suggest we all get some rest, then. Today was... eventful, to say the least. There’s no telling what tomorrow will bring, and we would do well to be prepared. Captain, would you mind taking first watch?”

With that, they all set about their normal nightly routine. Well... almost normal. It’s oddly quiet without Legend’s standard sarcastic quips and snark, even if he doesn’t always say anything. Just his presence is enough to fill the space.

Now that space is occupied by a tiny, shy shadow of the Veteran’s usual self.

—————————

The night passes without any more incidents. Wind wakes the next morning having almost forgotten the events of yesterday, and thus does a double take at the sight of Sky curled around a tiny body, the only part visible a tuft of soft pink hair.

Everyone else is in various stages of awake and gathered around the fire pit. They’re doing a good job of more-or-less minding their own business, though every so often someone will glance over at the lump of blankets containing the Chosen Hero and his charge.

Wild finishes breakfast and is in the process of handing it out when there’s a quiet snuffling sound from the direction of the bedrolls. Everyone looks over in time to witness little Legend sneeze himself awake. It’s nothing like the Vet’s usual muffled sneezes- these are tiny and squeaky and altogether the cutest sound Wind has ever heard.

(Can a sound be cute? ...Y’know what, who cares? This one definitely is.)

The sudden sneezing fit has the bonus effect of waking Sky, who bolts upright with a snort, freeing Legend from the cuddly trap of his arms. The boy tumbles out of the blankets, blinks, and sneezes again.

“Bless you,” Time says mildly.

Wind can’t help himself and coos. “Is it weird ta say that that’s my new favourite sound in any world ever?”

“I wuz gunna say yeah but tha’ is pretty cute,” Twilight agrees.

Sky stumbles to his feet with a yawn. Wild waves at her and she makes her way over to join the rest of them around the fire. Legend quickly follows, latching on to her shirt with little hands. She pauses for a moment at the action, blinking down at him in surprise before shaking it off.

She plops down between Wind and Twilight, giving them a sleepy nod in greeting that they return. Legend hesitates to follow; when she tries to encourage him to sit he takes one look at the Rancher and shies away.

Twilight immediately looks as if his heart has been torn out of his chest and stomped on in front of him. He watches forlornly as Legend inches around behind Sky to her other side.

“Here, I got you.” As if it’s second nature, Sky reaches over and lifts the boy up to set him in her lap. Legend squeaks and goes still, eyes wide with surprise.

It takes a moment for the realization of what she just did to set in, and then Sky is stammering apologies. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-!”

His frantic rambling is brought to a halt as Legend curls up against him with a little hum. His hands hover uncertainly before he lets out a breath and wraps them around the small body in his lap. Legend nestles closer with a content sound.

Quiet footsteps have the older hero glancing up to see Wild coming over, a bowl in each hand. He holds them out with a small smile. “I made oatmeal. I didn’t know if you or Legend wanted anything in yours, so I left it plain. There’s stuff to add to it if you want.”

Sky takes them with a quiet ‘thank you’. He nudges Legend until he looks up and hands him a bowl. “Wild wants to know if you want anything in yours,” he tells him.

Legend stares down at his bowl for a few moments, biting his lip, before he looks up with a shy expression. “Um, I like- I like apples. With cinnamon,” he says quietly.

Wild smiles. “I can do that.”

It’s short work for the Champion to produce and slice an apple from his slate and sprinkle it with cinnamon. He arranges the slices on a small plate and hands it to Legend with another smile.

It’s received with an answering smile and a brightening of violet eyes at the first bite. Legend gives a happy little hum, swaying side to side as he eats. Within minutes both the plate and bowl are picked clean.

The rest of them finish their own breakfast soon after and move to get ready for the day ahead. Legend does his best to help; it’s clear he’s having trouble adjusting to being small again while his brain tells him he should be bigger. Still, he’s stubborn.

Eventually camp is packed up and the Chain sets out. Legend clings to Sky’s hand, trotting alongside him as they walk.

Wind stays close like he did yesterday, chattering up a storm. Legend doesn’t respond much, but that’s okay. He just wants to keep his brother from getting lost in his own head. It seems to work as the boy perks up and doesn’t stick quite so close to Sky.

By the time lunchtime nears, however, Legend is flagging. He refuses all offers to carry him, though, no matter who asks. Over time, he drifts to the back of the group, stumbling tiredly but still stubbornly staying on his own two feet. His hand is still tight in Sky’s.

He stumbles again and Sky makes a worried noise. “Are you sure you don’t want a break? No one would mind-”

“I can do it on my own,” Legend growls. Or, well, Wind is pretty sure that’s what he’s aiming for but it comes out as a tired, mumbled whine. “I managed fine on all my other adventures.” He pulls his hand out of Sky’s.

The older hero looks saddened by the action and Wind feels the same. Legend is so little, like this, and he’s claiming he doesn’t need any help, even though he’s so clearly exhausted. Still, if he doesn’t want help they can’t force it on him. They know from experience it would only end badly.

Up ahead, Twilight pauses, ears flicking as he glances around. “Ah’m hearin’ monsters in th’ woods,” he warns. “Dunno where ‘xactly, but we best be careful.”

“You heard the man, keeps your eyes out for anything that could signal an attack,” Wars calls back to the rest of them.

A few minutes pass and the road stays quiet. Legend falls further and further behind. Wind hears him stumble again and exchanges a worried glance with Sky.

“If he falls I don’t care if he doesn’t want to be carried. I’m picking him up.”

“I’ll help,” Wind offers.

Another stumble and a gasp sound from behind them.

“Okay, that’s it.” Sky turns around. “Lege, I know you don’t want-” He cuts off with a horrified sound.

“Legend!”

Wind whips around to see Legend high off the ground in the grip of a huge moblin. The boy kicks and struggles but he may as well be fighting a rock for all the good it does; the monster, completely unfazed, gives him a hearty shake. Legend yelps as his head snaps back at the force of it and Wind feels his heart stop.

Suddenly an arrow whizzes overhead to embed itself in the monster’s eye. It howls with pain and drops Legend who falls to the ground with a sharp crack!

Sky is there in the next moment, scooping Legend off the ground and slicing the moblin in half in a single movement. He bolts back to the safety of the group with Legend clutched tightly to his chest.

The boy is clutching his left wrist in a vice grip, face pale.

Monsters pour from the trees on either side of the path, blades and teeth glinting and sharp. Wind notes moblins and bokoblins mostly, with a few lizalfos for good measure. They don’t even have the good grace to be from the same era.

Fun.

There’s too many to fight as a group so they split, Warriors barking orders and the rest of them hurrying to follow. Wind blinks and finds himself backed against the treeline with little Legend trembling next to him. Biting his lip, Wind glances around.

The monsters are all in front of him. Now that they’ve launched their attack they don’t seem to care about using the trees to their advantage anymore.

He can work with that.

“Lege, can you climb?” A shaky nod. “Okay, climb one o’ the trees behind us an’ stay there til the fight’s over, ‘kay?”

Legend looks like he wants to protest but a sudden snarl sends him scurrying for the closest trunk. Wind ducks a blow and watches him clamber up surprisingly quickly to crouch on a large branch with his uninjured hand over his mouth and the other tucked to his chest.

The sailor takes that as his cue to start slashing at the monsters surrounding him. He dodges one and stabs another before rolling to avoid a spear jabbing into the ground where his leg was a moment before.

He jumps and slashes, stabs and rolls, all the while doing his best to keep the monsters away from the tree where his little brother is hiding.

A lizalfos keeps him busy for a few minutes before he manages to cut its tail off, making it shriek and flail. Wind finishes it off with a stab through the chest.

Then it’s just a few more bokoblins, thankfully none of which are black-blooded. He manages to take them down relatively quickly while avoiding serious injury himself before turning to check on the rest of his brothers and catch his breath.

Time is engaged with a moblin from Wild’s time on the other side of the path. He seems to be doing fine- with a swing of his sword he lops off one of its arms then bisects it as it howls.

Twilight and Warriors are tag-teaming a pack of bokoblins. One darts in to distract while the other strikes from the side or behind. Together they make quick work of the monsters before turning to find more opponents.

Similarly, Four and Wild are wreaking havoc nearby - Wind winces as he hears the by-now-familiar sound of a sword shattering and Four yelling.

He can’t find Hyrule but he does see Sky, slicing through monster after monster with deadly efficiency.

Soon all the monsters are nothing but dust and the heroes move to regather in the center of the path. Injuries are made note of to take care of once they make camp unless they’re urgent; Wind himself only has a few minor scrapes and bruises, thanks to that darn lizalfos.

He turns back to the tree where Legend is still hiding, holding out his arms with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “All th’ monsters are gone. D’ya want help gettin’ down?”

A nod. Legend shuffles to the edge of the branch and lets his legs dangle over the side, looking apprehensively between the ground and where Wind stands waiting, biting his lip. The sailor is patient and waits for him to make up his mind, knowing the other boy never does well when pushed. After a minute Legend shoves himself off the branch, making Wind yelp and nearly dive to catch him before he hits the ground. He holds his little brother close to his chest as he tries to catch his breath, feeling him cling back just as tightly.

“Let’s um- l-let’s not do tha’ again... yeah?”

Wind feels him nod shakily, pressing closer and gripping at his shirt as he trembles.

Wars calls over from where he’s doing after-battle checks. “Wind, you okay over there?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, all good!” He hefts the small body in his arms only to freeze at a sudden pained yelp. “Woah woah, what’s wrong?!”

Legend whimpers and tries to push away, forcing Wind to hold him tighter so he doesn’t drop him. He lets out another pained noise and Wind suddenly remembers the sound he made when the moblin dropped him. He curses and hurries back to where their brothers wait, looking worried.

“Wars, can ya take a look at ‘is arm? He hurt it real bad when th’ moblin dropped ‘im.”

The Captain is already hurrying over, medical bag in hand.

“Set him down, let me see,” he demands as he gets closer. Wind goes to obey but Legend won’t let go. Instead, he presses closer despite his earlier attempts to get down. The nearer Wars draws the more Legend tries his best to meld into Wind’s torso.

The sailor eventually elects to just sit down and hold him in his lap. He wraps his arms around the smaller boy, tight enough to keep him from wriggling away but loose enough he’s not squishing him.

Legend quiets but continues to watch Warriors warily. As the older hero kneels down before them Wind feels him press back against his chest as though trying to hide.

Wars moves slowly and gently, obviously trying not to upset him any further. He doesn’t touch Legend; instead he says softly, “Hey there, bud. Wind told me you hurt your arm when you fell. Is it alright if I take a look at it?”

Legend takes a shaky breath and hesitantly nods. He doesn’t move, though. Wars stays where he is, waiting for him to decide what he wants to do.

It takes another minute before Legend slowly, slowly extends his left arm towards Warriors. The captain gently takes his wrist to inspect it, politely ignoring the flinch it causes. He pushes Legend’s sleeve back and moves his wrist back and forth a few times, pressing lightly to test the bones. Wind can see it beginning to swell already and suppresses a wince.

“It’s broken, alright,” is the diagnosis.

Wars reaches into his bag and pulls out a roll of bandages to wrap Legend’s wrist with, telling him what he’s doing the whole time in a soft voice. He pauses to grab a sturdy stick, breaks it in half, and uses that to hold the limb in place. Then he finishes wrapping it, taking care to keep his movements slow.

For his part, Wind does his best to keep his little brother calm - keeping his arms around him in a hug, rubbing his uninjured arm, even pressing a kiss to his hair when he lets out a muffled whimper at the pain. He thinks it helps.

When he finishes wrapping Legend’s wrist Wars pulls out a red potion and instructs him to sip it slowly. When it’s about halfway empty he takes it back and hands it to Wind, who downs it without complaint. “We’ll leave your wrist wrapped for now, let the potion do it’s job. I’ll check on it again tomorrow, okay?”

He waits for Legend to nod before standing and making his way back to the others. Sky immediately takes his place, looking over first Legend and then Wind worriedly. She doesn’t crowd, though, well aware of Legend’s dislike of it.

“We’re alright, Sky,” Wind reassures. “Wars took care of it.”

“I know,” she sighs, moving to sit next to them. “I’m just worried. That was scary.”

Wind nods. It was really scary; seeing Legend in the hands of that moblin, watching him fall, the crack! as his wrist broke... the fact he’d hardly made a noise the entire time...

It’s a relief when the call to get moving comes. Wind stumbles to his feet and moves to hand Legend over to Sky only for the boy to cling to his shirt with a whine. Exchanging a glance with Sky, he tries again but Legend only clings tighter, burying his head against his collarbone.

“Come on, let’s go!” Twilight calls. “We’re gunna try ta get as far as we can afore it gets dark!”

With Legend clinging to Wind like a limpet he shares one last look with Sky before following after the rest of their brothers.

Thankfully it seems the fight will be the only excitement for the day. The rest of the walk is quiet- well, as quiet as it gets with a group like theirs, anyway.

More than once Wind is asked, mostly jokingly, if he’d rather let someone else carry Legend. He just huffs and continues walking.

“I do have a little sister, y’know,” he reminds them. “I can carry a kid for a while.” Besides, Legend chose him, he’s his responsibility!

He catches Twilight pouting at that but gracefully decides not to mention it. The Rancher will get his turn when he gets his turn, no need to whine about it.

Everyone is still a little wound up from the fight, so instead of stopping for lunch like they’d planned Wild hands out skewers to eat as they walk. Wind eats his fish skewer in record time so he can hold the fruit skewer Wild pulled out for Legend.

It’s eaten slowly, interrupted by the occasional sniffle. Wind doesn’t judge him for it; a broken wrist is nothing to laugh at, especially at his age.

—————————

By the time they call it a day Wind’s arms and shoulders are sore. Carrying a kid for so long is no easy feat, but he’d refused to give in and hand Legend over to someone else, only shifting him to his other hip to give his arm a break. The kid in question had fallen asleep sometime after lunch, resting his head on Wind’s shoulder and his hair tickling his cheek.

Camp is made in a clearing a little ways off the path. Wind drops down on a log with a sigh, ready to rest after such a long day. Sky joins him with a yawn and Wind muffles a laugh.

“How is he?” the older hero asks quietly, glancing at Legend where he’s curled into the sailor’s shoulder.

“I think th’ fight an’ everythin’ wore ‘im out,” he murmurs back. “Breakin’ his wrist didn’t help either.” A though occurs to him then and he straightens to look at his brother.

“Sky, earlier when Wars came over an’ set his wrist...” he begins slowly. “Lege got all scared. I-I know he doesn’t like knights- um, big Lege that is. Do you... d’you think it’s somethin’ he remembers from when he was bigger, or-?”

He doesn’t want to finish, doesn’t want to consider what the alternative might mean.

Sky pales as the implication of Wind’s words hit him. “I- I don’t know-”

He’s interrupted by the subject of their conversation stirring awake, blinking open bleary violet eyes. There’s a moment before those eyes settle on Sky. Legend stares for a heartbeat before lifting his hand and giving a small wave.

Sky returns it then clears his throat. “Hey, chick, can I... can I ask you something?”

Legend blinks but nods. Sky gives a wan smile.

“Alright. This... this is a hard question, so don’t force yourself to answer it, okay?” Another nod, this one less sure. “Okay. Wind told me you got scared when Warriors fixed up your wrist earlier. Can you- could you tell me why?”

Legend takes a sharp intake of breath, opening and closing his mouth a few times before biting his lip and shoving his face against Wind’s chest.

“Hey, hey, you don’t have to answer that if it’s too hard. It’s okay-”

“I don’t like knights,” comes the answer, quiet but capturing everyone’s attention nonetheless. “They chase me. They’re bad.” A sniffle. “They used t’ be good but then A-Agahnim cast a spell that made them think I ki-kidnapped th’ pr’ncess even though I didn’t. Th-they didn’t listen when I told them I didn’t do it. Zelda an’ me fixed it after I beat Ganon bu’ then Yuga came an’ made ‘em bad again.”

Wind feels like he’s going to be sick. He knew his brother held a strong distaste for knights, but to know this was why... He swallows and looks away only to see his own horror reflected back at him on his brothers’ faces.

Warriors especially looks stricken.

“This... Agahnim... is he still-? What happened to him?” Time asks. His face has that pinched look it gets when he’s trying not to let his anger get the better of him.

Legend’s voice is numbed and dull when he replies. “He’s dead. I killed him.”

There’s a choking sound. “I- I’m sorry, you what? How old were you?!” Wars sounds almost desperate, like he’s begging the answer won’t be what he thinks it is.

Any hope he has is dashed to pieces when Legend answers, face unnervingly empty.

“Nine.”

[argentavis]

space is vast, you are small, its black and bitter cold. the book is lying open. there are snails to behold

[weaponproficiencies]

haley/haley warriors how are we feeling

[taski-guru]

Blotchy the snail © Nak

Snail pack and accessories were designed by me

Image description: art showing a giant snail approching an anthromorphic racoon, two anthromorphic mice and an anthromorphic squirrel waiting at a "snail stop". A mouse sits on the shell of the snail, the snail carries large bags. end Image description

description by @waitingforthecat

[365filmsbyauroranocte]

Smallpox Tale (Shūji Terayama, 1975)

[snailsandpuppy-dogtails]

I Do, Do You? Chapter 9 A Breakfast of Champions

WC: 3,983 (smut) Ao3

Though his alarm hasn’t gone off yet, gradually he finds himself drifting from sleep, blurring the dream he can’t quite remember, the dream he isn’t sure he had. 

He feels the mattress curling around him, heavy body sinking against it, the stiff sheets above, and without opening his eyes he knows this isn’t home. 

This is a work bed, feels like a work bed- like every other bed, formed and broken beneath the give of a thousand different bodies- a mattress like himself. 

A mattress that makes him uncomfortable.

But something about it, about the room, feels comforting, comfortable. Feels like home. 

No. 

Smells like home. 

Her body wash- her shampoo- her perfume- the pure essence of whatever it is that she gives off- it’s the same smell that’s been weaving it’s way into his bedding for weeks, the thing that’s been weaving it’s way into his life. 

The warmth at identifying the cause spreads through his chest like a dull golden glow, starting slow in the middle of his sternum, gradually radiating outward with a pulsing beat until the whole cavity of his chest is warm and swimming, the feeling tugging more, the comfort of her pulling him from the discomfort of himself. 

Drifting further, being tugged towards wakeness, he becomes aware of the soft feeling of being watched. 

He hasn’t moved, hasn’t opened his eyes, hasn’t heard anyone or felt a movement, but he can feel the heavy gaze pressing on the side of his cheek like fingers, like a hand checking for fever. Cracking a lid, peeking, Luke finds Penelope, elbow propped up, head in hand, looking at him. 

In all the weeks that they’d been sharing a bed, he hadn’t once known her to wake up before him. After last night he wonders if she’s having regrets, if this had also been zero to one hundred and she was just waiting for him to rejoin the land of the living to take it back, to say it was too much too fast, that he was nice but she couldn’t deal with the reality of the baggage his life carried. 

“ ‘everything okay?”  His words are quiet, much quieter than he’d expected, and soft, much softer than he felt, but it cracks the silence like static in the air.

The raising eyebrows and a haughty look they’re met with tell him no, no everything is not okay. Somehow he’s made a wrong turn, stumbled through some transgression. 

“You are rudely attractive.” 

The shallow smile twists imperceptibly small at her peculiar brand of compliment, relieved, he lets the lid drop. Not ready to be so ‘up’ as his psyche seems to want him to be, content to lay, to be here, somewhere between home and not home, he mumbles back, “You think I’m handsome and it’sa problem?”     

“No, I think you’re rude. It’s rude to be so good looking in the morning when you haven’t even showered, or brushed your hair, or your teeth, or shaved- and for the record, that response? Rude. Very full of yourself today I see.”

“Sorry?” 

“Good. You should be.”

Ridiculous. “Penelope, this is what I look like every morning.”

“And now you’re bragging?! Rude!” she shoves at his bare chest, pushing off, pushing away.

Luke grins, enjoying the feel of her hands on him, at the thought that all he had to do was reach out and hold that hand with his, pull her down to meet him, or snatch it, knocking her off balance, and roll over, pinning her beneath him. 

“You are aggressive…ly put together.” He rolls to his side, lifting the covers, lifting his head, and gives the stark body next to his a devouringly languid once-over, Penelope suppressing a chill called by the stroke of his gaze, before his eyes tighten and glitter, Luke amending, “... just not in the morning.”  

That does it.

A shrieking gasp shatters the remaining peace, Penelope shoving at him harder, sitting up, but quickly finds herself pulled down and over him, legs tangling, arms tightening, rough, stubbled cheek scraping against hers, Luke inhaling audibly through his nose at her ear, warm lips pressing to her neck, murmuring, “My favorite look so far.” 

She fights against him at first, but knows even like this, it’s futile, heatless anger quickly loosing steam at well reasoned lips. 

He relaxes his hold when she relaxes her struggle, a finger trapping embrace. Sliding down his left side, she settles next to him leaving her arm draped across his chest, “How long before you have to meet your boss?”  

Her fingertips make lazy swirling passes over tan skin, a trail burning in her wake like magic.

But the reminder that work isn’t done, that he is stillatwork, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He glances at the standard issue hotel clock on the nightstand behind her, “A while. After we get back to Quantico.”

“Should we get ready? Get breakfast?”

“Usually when we’re away on a case we all meet for breakfast and check out together…but the agent who started that, David Rossi, retired this year.”

“Oh.” He can see the microscopic deflation, soldiering fingers coming to a halt. “Then you check with your team. See if they’re going…” She didn’t want to keep him from a team tradition just because she was there.

He nuzzles into her hair and kisses it, bitter taste be gone, “I really don’t want to-”

“You should. You should check in with your team, I’ll be fine, I don’t-”

“Rossi put the team and the job over himself and his family. He was divorced three times.”

“And I’m right here.”

For a long moment Luke doesn’t respond, and when he does, it doesn’t match the conversation. “I’m sorry. For how things went down last night.”

Penelope grins and curls her fingers, dragging them down his chest, “I’m not-” 

Swift retaliatory tickles are doled out to her side causing her to jump and press closer into him, “Not that-”  

He stops and she settles, snuggling further into his side, the comfort there, hesitating before asking, not sure if she was allowed, if he would tell her, she cautiously toes, “What happened? I couldn’t hear you -or anyone anymore, and now you’re in trouble.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Luke. What happened?”

He looks down at her and frowns, then looks to the ceiling and sighs before answering, like he’s being forced to admit something to himself, “Prentiss cut your feed-” 

“So Whitt couldn’t hear you?”

“Mm.” Luke hums, “But I swear, I never let you leave my sight. I wanted to go in the second I saw him touch you- We had enough. We had the video, the message board being given targets and choosing, we had him approaching you after they’d picked you- it didn’t need to go-” He stops himself, explaining, “but we have to be given the go ahead, wait for an ok.” 

She can feel him tense next to her, feel his heart beating faster, “She didn’t give it.”

“She wants a solid case. I wasn’t letting him leave that patio with you.” 

Everyone knows what happens when locations change. 

“I went in, I wasn’t cleared to. Tara and Matt backed me up. If Prentiss doesn’t like it, I’ll deal with it, but I know I made the right call.”

“I’d do it again.” 

He says it bluntly, matter of fact. Like there is no greater truth. 

He’s careful not to voice his perspective, events colored by fear and protectiveness and anger, but he holds her closer, tighter, and she watches the muscles around his jaw shift and clench. “I’d be faster. I’m sorry I wasn’t faster.”

“Luke, it wasn’t up to you, you did what you could. Your team followed through and you got him-” She wants to sooth him, show him she understands. She doesn’t blame him for anything that happened, she doesn’t want him to blame himself.

“But I could have stopped him- kept you-“ “NO,” Penelope abruptly cuts him off, “you saved me. Real-life saved me.” Her lips press, melting around hard rib and muscle, feeling the thump of his heart, “I think heroes deserve a breakfast of champions.” If he wasn’t meeting his team, breakfast in bed would do.

Luke huffs a laugh and looks down at the yellow crown pointed towards him, “You know that’s Wheaties, right?”

“I think you’ll find what I’m serving has extra sugar-“ she says, layering another kiss to his side.

As her lips start on a descending path, his fingers flex on her bicep, “Penelope-“ He doesn’t want this to become a habit, replacing hard or bad things with sex, doesn’t want her to think it’s what he wants. She rolls her head to the side, turning her face towards him, cheek pressing into his abdomen and hair brushing between his hip bones, tickling.

She feels him rouse under her, “Are you meeting your team?”  

Damn it. 

Luke shakes his head, breathing out, “Not right now-“

Grinning, satisfied, she goes back to kissing him, “A treat then, a célébration des héros-“

The voice in his head tells him to shut up, to shelve it, discard his guilt. There’s no changing the past, no sense in dwelling on it. Be in the moment.

She slides down next to him, he loosens his hold allowing her to flow around his body, covers rustling against skin.

Her fingers run up and across his abs, over the knots of his ribs, Penelope flowing back up, briefly licking and sucking his soft nipples into pert points, then slinking back down, enjoying the sound of his breath growing thick above her. 

Thinking about his slow build last night, she decides to follow suit. Her thumbs strum and stroke slow across the tops of his pecs, warm wet lips pressing lower, pressing the throbbing pulse running down from his navel, down to his groin. Swallowing, Luke moves a hand to her cheek, brushing and collecting her hair with damp palms, smoothing over her shoulders, feeling the blood rush and his cock harden at her call. Her hands spread over the tops of his thighs, stroking and rubbing the tensing muscle there as she slips between his legs. 

His body zings at her touch, the milky sensations of anticipation, her short nails curling and scraping, the weight of her tits grazing his cock, soft flesh dragging over firm erection, drawing him up, Luke vibrating, the wanting of her hot satin mouth wrapped around him, the wet velvet of her sucking him in. “Pen-”

Her right hand slides, fingers marching across his inner thigh and over short hair, sliding down to gently curl around and squeeze his balls, then let go and, fingers splayed, skate back up, grasping the base of his cock. 

Looking down Luke sees her glance up, biting a coquettish grin under heavy lids. Curled fingers stroke up his shaft, slow, measured, her tongue poking out wetting her lips, the peeking tip coming out more to lick a slick narrow strip up the weighty underside of him. Just a few inches at first, just once, then another, and another. 

Her hand tugs up and then down, blonde head bobbing and turning slowly as she experimentally moves around the head of his cock, little tasting laps left and right, Penelope, unhurried, kissing and licking to her satisfaction, point of her tongue teasing the cum out of his slit, Luke sighing through heavy breath and half bit grunting moans above her. 

Finally, finding him firm enough, slick enough, she places her lips to the side of his tip and takes him in with painstakingly slow suction, tongue swirling around the hard ridge of his silken head. 

Luke tenses, fingers tightening, tugging sharply at the gathered hair in his hand, but a squeak-like protest and flinch of her hand has him immediately releasing her, cupping and caressing her cheeks instead. Swiping and biting his lower lip, he huffs a ragged, “Fuck- Sorry- You’re great.” Her breath is hot, mouth hot; wet and welcoming. The feel of her tongue, slick and rough and plush molding to his aching shaft has him forgetting himself. 

Letting go of her cheek, his hips lightly press up as his body lengthens, Luke sliding a hand up and under the pillow, fingers knotting into the cool backside of the cotton instead.   

Near instantly he’s rewarded with the feeling of her free hand skirting up his torso, landing on his chest, fingers spreading and flexing, body undulating as she relaxes her throat, taking more of him in. 

Normally she’d be self conscious; about the act, about her “performance”, her appearance, but right now she’s not. Right now all she can think about is how badly she wants this too, wants to do this, feel him again, taste him, give this to him, and enjoy how badly he wants her.     

He brushes some fallen hair back from her face and slips his hand over her ear, thumb and forefinger soothing her lobe. Penelope purrs at the tender encouragement, causing his head to press back into the pillow, his eyes to flutter shut, and a sharp inhale, the vibration around his cock in her mouth, cheeks sucking hollow and hard around him. 

Noticing his reaction, she does it again, this time slower, longer, and lower, her wrapped lips pressing a soft vacuum around him. He keens, cursing and calling her name- “Fuck” and “Pen-“ cutting through regulating huffs. 

Pleasured sensation gives way to encompassing thought, how nothing he’s done should result in this, how right she feels, how good she feels. How he wants to give to her. He’s never been passive, patient yes, passive, no- a man of action. 

Every impulse in him is whispering to quit this show of restraint and change the aria she’s playing into a more fitting duet, to slip a hand between her thighs, how his fingers would find her just as wet, just as wanting, -just as hot as her mouth, a célébration of his own. 

That specific trait penetrates all decision, all unspoken agreement, his fingers starting to loosen their hold. But the bed dipping under them penetrates the thought, Penelope kneeling up, head and chest canted down, a better angle, taking more of him, taking her further away, just out of reach-  

Luke’s eyes open, gluing to the sight before him, watching her hair sink and rise, her mouth and cheeks contracting around his cock, the slick noises she’s making, watches her body rock into the movement, hand coming to his thigh to brace herself. He watches as the covers slip the remaining inch or so off her hips, exposing her ass turned skyward, a glorious rosy mountain in front of him, her shining lips in the mirror behind her. His mind conjures images of things they haven’t done…Penelope bent in front of him, his body curled over hers, soft, warm full breasts heavy in his hands, thumbs teasingly brushing over her sensitive nipples, the swell of her ass retreating against him in response, how she’d turn her cheek up to him, lips parting in a beautiful o, Penelope softly moaning as he reached deep within her, deep in her eyes, deep in her cunt. 

He tries to keep his hips still, to not thrust or jerk when she looks up at him, gaze molten, he’s left slack-jawed and panting, gasping, “Pen- fuck- ah- yeah-” strangled, straining “I- I-” 

Squeezing the top of his tremoring thigh, she makes no move to back off, to stop. Instead Penelope ducks further, going all the way, pressing her nose flat to the tensing muscle of his groin, her lips at the base of his cock, giving another low, even hum as she does.  

His dick swelling, unable to hold off, hold back, Luke’s hips jerk thrusting, coming, Penelope gagging, saliva flooding, tight throat constricting around his cock as she reflexively swallows around him, his toes curling and fists balling in the pillow and the sheets as a stifled throaty growl peals out of him. 

She swallows the cum shooting down her throat and pulls off, hands slickly pumping him through his remaining moaning thrusts. She’s breathing hard and her jaw and throat are sore, she can feel the saliva on her chin and the wetness at the corners of her eyes, only then thinking of the makeup she hadn’t washed off. By severe contrast he’s dazed and flush, brown eyes sparkling, a beautiful cast of pink under tan cheeks and shoulders. 

Slowing, then stopping, she sits back on her heels running a finger under her eyes, taking him in, “-really unfair. Why do you look even better?” 

The dull raise of his eyebrows and slack mouth, blinking back at her is a look of uncomprehending confusion, but then his eyes widen and his mouth narrows to a lopsided grin. 

Her eyes are glassy, and there’s bits of mascara shadowing below, her cheeks are red, and her lips are shining and swollen, her breath is heaving, chest heaving, and her hair is a mess, and it’s very possibly the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Sitting up he wants to tell her so, instead he just stares at her bringing a hand to her chin holding her still and kisses her. 

From experience, he knows there’s nothing he could say that would make her believe him, so he doesn’t try. He rocks his forehead against hers, eyes closed, and trails his nose across her cheek, lightly dragging kisses over her jaw, hand lightly trailing down her neck to rest on her collar. When he opens his eyes they connect with hers, small smile curling below cheeks turning a deeper crimson tell him she gets the meaning, his feeling.  

“Hmph.” Penelope makes a sound of disapproval, looking away, “Yeah. Keep trying to make up for it.” Disentangling herself from the bedding she walks across the room, then, stopping at the bathroom door she turns back, “I’m getting in the shower.”

Luke watches her go, listening to the start of the water and the sound of the curtain being pulled back. She didn’t close the door. 

Maybe she never did, because of how early he’d leave, he didn’t know, but yesterday she had, yesterday he’s sure he’d even heard the flick of a lock. 

That would have been habit, this is an invitation. 

One he fully intends to accept… one where he can make it up to her. 

He’d come in and find her, hair piled high at first, body glossy and shining in the light, and crowd her against the wall, kiss her in greeting, kiss her with force. He’d bury his face in her neck and curl his fingers inside her, he’d lick the spray trailing down her curves and drink the waterfalls streaming from her breast, muscular lips wrapping around nipples, pumping and sucking and kissing and curling and laving and stroking until she’s quaking around him, jellied legs sinking down the wall, down his hand, panting and protesting, clawing and crying out for him… 

But all thoughts of Penelope coming undone under the water, of continuing their celebration of heroes, suddenly and coldly come to an end at the ring of his phone. 

Jolted out of the daydream, he stiffens answering, spine going straight where he sits on the side of the bed. 

It’s Tara. She’s called to relay a message from Prentiss. He’s being told to take Penelope back to Quantico, she’s required to write her own account of the evening’s events. Tara tells him because of how he acted, his “display of unprofessional behavior” and his “seeming inability to be level and rational…and follow orders around his wife”, Prentiss isn’t allowing him to help with the process. 

Tara hears the grit of his teeth and defiance on the other end of the line, she and Matt were chosen to deliver the news for this reason. He’d listen to them, even if he didn’t like it, he’d hear it better coming from them. 

In an attempt to soften the blow, she goes on explaining, “You know it’s just a CYA. Prentiss is trying to help, she needs to make sure this is airtight. We can’t afford for it to, at the very least, end up another situation like Matt and the bank. It would bring us down to two agents…” She gives it time to sink in before adding, “but it is an order, Emily wants me to be clear, she’ll send suits to get her if you don’t bring her with you…”

Tara waits for a response, he doesn’t give one, but he hasn’t hung up either, he’s internalizing, pouting she thinks, “If it helps, Matt and I will be the ones walking her through writing the report while Prentiss is ripping into you over last night.” 

It does help. 

A little. 

Luke scoffs, admitting as much, and his posture softens, shoulders hunching and curling, elbows coming to his knees, rubbing at his forehead, “Any hope you can delaying things until Prentiss is done with me so I can at least be there with her?” “Not a chance. Even if we could, you interfering again is exactly what she wants to avoid, the defense could claim tampering or collusion, get the whole case thrown out and come down on us- we really don’t need that kind of investigation right now.”

“Yeah. Right,” he mutters in agreement. He knows the position he’s put them in, but he can’t really bring himself to care where she’s concerned.

“Catch her up to speed as much as you can on the way in and she’ll be fine. She’ll be with us.”

“I know. I just…feel like I should be there.” 

“Aw, that’s cute. See you in a bit.”

“See ya.”

“Feel like you should be where?”

Luke looks up to find Penelope standing near the bathroom door wrapped in one of those over-looped white hotel robes, blonde head cocked to the side, towel in hand drying her hair in a kind of scrunching motion, looking at him expectantly, the whole scene feeling comfortable, domestic, it brings him back to earlier. This is something he’d been missing out on all those early mornings, all those missing days.  

He lets the casualness of it wash over him before standing and crossing the room to bringing his arms around her and kissing her. 

It’s soft, a bit sorrowful, nothing like the impatient, demanding one he’d been imagining minutes ago. Lips hovering hers, he murmurs, “should have been in that shower with you.”

“Mmm,” Penelope hums in agreement, biting her lower lip. Dropping the towel, her arms encircle him, hands splaying up the flat shift of muscle on his back, “So why weren’t you?” 

He kisses her again, inhaling, fingers sweeping from her cheek down her neck, sighing at the missed opportunity, “There’s been a change of plans, Prentiss wants you back at headquarters so Matt and Tara can walk you through reporting the events of the operation.”

She pulls back to look at him, arms looping his neck, “But not you?” 

Giving a small shake of his head, he tells her, “I’ll be there, but not with you.”

The understanding is there, she already knows he’s in trouble for what he did, this must be a piece of that. But she wonders if there’s more to it, if there’s another reason they want her in person. If they were finally able to find it. Would they have told him? She's sure he would have told her...

The shower had given her time to think, the quiet dawn before he woke...and the more she thinks, the more resolve she has, the more she hopes they have...

Slowly Penelope nods, agreeing. She had insisted on being part of this, insisted on being bait, and inserted herself in ways he didn’t know about. “We need to get ready then.”

[boomershroomer]

Here is the time-lapse of the inflatable monotub. I think it turned out pretty good. 🍄😍

[potatocat]

TODAY IS THE LAST DAY you can sign-up for the Special Halloween Go!Robins! Collector Card on my Patreon! (29th September) Which means... tomorrow it's time to prep the spooky mail and send these to their homes! :D Yaay! I'm pumped and ready!! 🎃

💛  Sign-up for the Jaybird Patreon Mail: https://patreon.com/Yolin

💌 All tiers with Patreon Mail in their rewards will receive mail! 💌 Sign-up Deadline: 29th of September 💌 + Gain early access to the Go!Robins! comic, art, birthday calendars and lots more posts!

[alrauna]

Annie Stegg Gerard (@anniestegg)

[mothfables]

Snail Ch. 2: Four Peculiar Limbs and a Head That Doesn’t Fit

There is a very lost, confused little boy in the woods. Can he trust these strangers, who he doesn’t know but a part of him says he should?

Everything is weird. Too bright, too loud, too big.

There are people here, people he doesn’t know but has a strange nagging feeling that he should. But that can’t be right, he’s never seen them before in his life... has he?

They’re loud, though, and some of them are very big, and they’re all carrying weapons and he doesn’t know what’s happening or how he got here and suddenly they’re reaching for him and he bolts.

The trees provide cover to dart between and shadows to hide in and he runs and runs and runs until he can’t hear the strange-familiar-strangers anymore. Then he’s crawling under a clump of bushes with leaves so thick he can’t see through them because even if he lost them when he hit the trees it doesn’t mean they won’t be looking.

He trembles in his hiding place, heart beating rabbit-quick and doing his best to stifle frightened, confused tears. He didn’t see any dogs when they killed those monsters but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any, and dogs are very good at tracking him no matter how good he hides and oh why did he run in a straight line?

Suddenly there are footsteps in the woods. He claps a hand over his mouth and hopes against hope they go away.

They don’t.

Instead, the stranger settles against one of the trees and begins... humming? Why are they humming? Do they not know he’s here?

He waits, but they don’t do anything else but sit there and hum. The sound is nice, calming, and he can feel his heart begin to slow from it’s frantic pounding. Slowly, keeping an eye on the stranger to make sure they don’t make any sudden movements, he creeps out of the safety of the bushes. Any time the other so much as shifts he freezes, heart in his throat. Nothing happens, though, so he cautiously settles nearby to listen, far enough they won’t be able to grab him but ready to run if they try.

It’s not long before the last note is fading, and the strange man turns to look at him. He stares back, waiting to see what he’ll do.

The answer, apparently, is smile and speak softly. “Hey there, I’m Sky. You must’ve been pretty spooked earlier, huh? I’m sorry about that. Are you alright?”

He doesn’t answer, instead continuing to stare and trying to figure out if this is a trick or if the man, who is quickly becoming more familiar than strange, really means his words. After about a minute of silent staring, Sky heaves a deep breath and stands. He flinches, not expecting the movement; Sky doesn’t seem to notice and brushes himself off before holding out a hand.

“Do you want to come back with me? It can’t be very nice staying out here in the woods all by yourself.”

He’s not wrong; ever since Uncle- ever since Agahnim first sent the knights after him and made everyone hate him for something he didn’t even do, he’s been stuck sleeping alone in the woods more often than he does a bed. He’d learned quickly, though, and can usually get at least a few hours of rest hidden away in a hollow or small cave somewhere before inevitably being woken by one thing or another. Still, this man — Sky — hasn’t done anything to hurt him so far. Even if he was part of the group back there, on the road, with all the weapons and armor. Most of him wants to stay away, stay wary, make sure Sky won’t grab him or go for the sword he can see clearly on his back.

...But there’s a part of him, getting louder every minute, whispering ‘you can trust him’.

He nearly gives in and takes Sky’s hand before catching himself. Even if Sky really is as kind as he seems, there’s no way to know if he’s going to turn on him like the knights and villagers did. There have been kind people before. Kind and welcoming and who said they believed him when he told them about his adventure.

They didn’t always stay kind.

Instead, he pushes the memories thoughts away and agrees to follow behind Sky when the man suggests it- that way he can keep an eye on him and get away if he decides to stop being so kind after all. Pushing himself to his feet, he waits for Sky to start moving, keeping his hands close to his chest. (It’s only to make sure Sky doesn’t try to grab him. That’s all. Not because it’s soothing and makes him feel a tiny bit safer. He grew out of that a long time ago.)

(That’s a lie. It wasn’t that long ago that he had to stop or else worry about being caught.)

The two of them make their way back through the woods, Sky ahead and him behind. Not once does Sky turn back to grab him or reach for his weapon.

The closer they get to the edge of the trees the more his anxiety grows, and he finds himself drawing closer to Sky despite his earlier fear of him. When they leave the safety of the woods he latches on to the man’s leg and clings. He hasn’t done anything yet, and he’s beginning to think it will stay that way.

The group from before is still there, talking amongst themselves with worried expressions. They must be missing Sky, he thinks, wondering at the pang in his chest.

He starts when Sky lays a hand on his back and calls out, “I thought I told you guys to make camp! I’m gone, what, an hour? And I come back to find you all wandering about like headless cuckoos!”

He can’t help but snort at the mental image that conjures. Perhaps these people aren’t quite so dangerous after all if they can’t even make a camp.

He quails a bit when they notice him, but Sky keeps him steady and levels them with a look that makes them stop in their tracks. Then the man nudges him, gently, prompting him to look up and meet sky-blue eyes.

“Do you want to go say hi? They won’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He had forgotten about that for a moment, and the sudden rush of fear makes his chest squeeze tight. Sky must see it, because he adds, “And if anyone does something you don’t like, they’ll have to deal with me.”

That brings him up short. Sky would defend him? Against all of his companions? His chest feels warm suddenly, the fear loosening enough that he nods, earning him a smile.

Sky leads him over to where the rest of them stand waiting, his hand a firm and steady pressure on his back. The moment they get too close, he’s tugging on Sky’s pants to make him stop, and to his surprise he actually listens, keeping plenty of space between the two of them and the rest.

They form a circle before them and he can see them trying not to stare. He does the same from the safety of Sky’s leg.

“Okay,” Sky says. “Time for some introductions, I think. I already told you my name, I’m Sky.” He nods. Looking around, the feeling that he knows these people begins creeping up his spine, making it tingle uncomfortably.

They all introduce themselves at Sky’s urging. Most of them seem alright, but the knights make him startle badly, making Sky press his hand more firmly against his back. It doesn’t make him feel trapped, though, only supported.

Each name only exacerbates the feeling that he should- does- know these people. He presses closer to Sky, the names pressing into his mind as if to remind him ‘hey! you should remember us!’ It only makes his head hurt.

He swallows, gathering his courage, and glances up at Sky before looking back at the others. He opens his mouth.

“‘m Legend. I know you.”

.

.

.

There’s a moment of shocked silence before it erupts into noise. Quickly feeling overwhelmed by it all, he buries his face back into Sky’s leg. It helps, but only a little.

“What does he mean by ‘he knows us’? Shouldn’t he already know us?”

“Does it have to do with why he ran earlier?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s because he was overwhelmed and scared, probably due to the fact that he was surrounded by monsters and multiple people with weapons.”

Their voices overlap in a deafening cacophony, loud and painful and all-too familiar and his head hurts. His hands curl into fists, creasing the fabric in his grasp and he squeezes his eyes shut as he desperately tries to block it out.

Memories suddenly overlap each other in a jumble of confusion. He’s nine- no, nineteen, and on a quest through time- but hadn’t he done that already? There’s no Oracles or- or princesses or bad guys taking over kingdoms or- He winces as flashes of horribly strong monsters, ones that bleed black blood, lance through his mind. They’re chasing- or being chased?- by a Shadow, and he shudders as he recalls glowing red eyes, an ominous aura, sickening magic, it hurt Tw-

Legend whimpers, pressing against Sky’s leg as he mentally begs for the pain to go away. The man is comforting, in a way he can’t explain, and he needs that comfort right now. He feels a hand run through his hair, soothing and kind, and he wants to cry.

“Hey, bud, what’s wrong? Come on, talk to me.” Even his voice is soothing, which only makes Legend want to cry more.

“Mm-my he-head hurts...” He sniffles. Everything is still too much.

Sky must do something, then, because it suddenly gets quiet again. Footsteps approach, heavy and clanking, which makes him flinch. Sky doesn’t stop petting his hair.

“Legend?” More clanking and groaning of metal as whoever it is kneels down. The voice is strange-familiar like all of them are. He squints an eye open: tall, older, golden armor, strange markings on his face, one eye. Time. “Can I ask what you remember?”

Another wave of new-old memories makes him whine and press his face further into soft fabric. “U-um, ev’ryth’n’s all m’xed up...” He feels Sky rub his shoulder encouragingly. “I ‘member my fff-first ‘venture clearest. Ev’rythin’ else’s all... jumbly an’ muddled.”

“But you do remember us?” He nods.

Legend knows if he were older — his actual age, his mind reminds him — then he would be reacting very differently. He’d snipe and snarl and push them all away to deal with the pain alone.

He’s not nineteen right now, though, he’s nine. His clearest memories are waking in the night to a voice in his head and his only family gone, going to the castle only to stumble across his Uncle’s body in the sewers. He remembers cold steel pressed into his hands, finding the princess locked away and leading her to safety only to be accused of kidnapping her. He remembers how no one believed him, and how people he grew up knowing called the guards on him without a second thought. He remembers the Dark World, being tiny and helpless until he taught himself not to be. He remembers facing Ganon, not yet ten years old, and terrified out of his mind as he faced a monster unlike any other.

So he does not bare his teeth and storm away. Instead, he allows Sky to kneel down and draw him into a hug, burrowing into the man’s warm chest as he tries to make sense of all the memories and emotions crowding his mind. He’s rocked gently from side to side and something in his brain latches on to the motion, making his heart calm from it’s frantic pace and his chest loosen. Legend tucks his face into the crook of Sky’s neck, sighing as he finally relaxes for the first time since he found himself on the road surrounded by monsters and familiar strangers.

He feels safe.