#they’re so illy

[macaroni-and-tree]

two girlfriends spotted in eterna forest 🙀(ueal)((NOT fake))

[technicalgator]

Have some scrungly doodles of Guard Dog I did while at work :D

[muldermuse]

throat training with exboyfriend!butcher ??

maybe it’s been a few weeks since you’ve seen him- tbh, you’re impressed that you’ve kept to your word of keeping away from him

but what can you say???? you’ve got his dick on the brain

you’re sat on your knees between his thick thighs. he’s got two of his thick fingers down your throat and has for the past 5 minutes, smirking every time he hears you gag or he feels the spit rising up your throat

“now darlin’, i just needta make sure you can still take my cock…you know you do it better than anyone- jus’ how daddy likes it”

his fingers are still in your mouth, robbing you of the chance to reply. you can feel spit starting to pool in the corners of your mouth, so close to spilling down onto your naked form

“im gonna stroke my cock whilst you suck daddy’s fingers like they’re his fat fuckin’ cock- alright?”

you nod, taking both your hands and grabbing his forearm. keeping your pleading eyes on him whilst you move your head and take his fingers further down your throat. hoping that you get a chance to taste his cock on your tongue

let’s chat about b illy ❤️❤️

[alpydk]

Do you think that Mystra taught Gale how to use that practiced tongue, or is there another mortal out there that we should be thanking profusely?

Personally, I believe Mystra would have stifled his use of the practiced tongue, but that's another story for another day. When I think of Gale learning his skills like this, I think of pre-orb/pre Mystra Gale days when he was an academy student aged (early 20's) arrogant ball of sex and hormones. I think to one of my favourite fanfics Alchemy 410 by the very talented @the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep (who has been so gracious to lend me Illy for this little scene) - and how this drow elf would teach him to be the man we see and dream about today. So here is my full answer of how it all began:

Perurere

Word Count - 1069 (hehe) - Fluff

Gale was a natural to magic, the weave coming as freely to him as it would a sorcerer born to the art. The lightning crackled at his fingertips; the spell ready to be unleashed. “Perurer” A quick pop before the electricity fizzled into nothing, the amount of r’s required causing him to roll them as if he were Tara settling in front of the fireplace.

The Drow elf laughed at his feeble attempt to cast the simple spell; her own lightning bolt having already hit the target in the courtyard with ease. He patted down his robes, the tension of her observing him creating nerves he wasn’t quite used to. The two of them had studied together for some time at Blackstaff Academy, once glaring across the class at each other, now sharing in competitive banter, trying to push each other towards being the best they could be.

She’d struggled with alchemical potions, and he’d gloated arrogantly. “Not everyone is meant to be good at everything. Unless they’re me, of course, but I’m something of an anomaly,” he’d said with a smugness that he was now regretting entirely.

He lifted his fingers, the spell at the ready. “Puruerer” He knew as he said the first syllable that he had messed it up entirely and she was taking great joy in now finding exactly where his weaknesses lay. He’d always been good with literature, devouring books and knowledge. He’d, however, never been one for the more linguistic elements of reading. Who exactly corrects your pronunciation when you have so few people in your life? “My dear Illyth, your smirk does little to aid in my concentration.”

She brushed aside her thick white hair and stepped forth, ready to demonstrate the spell again to him. She held her head high, her shoulders back, this rare moment where she was the one who shone so brightly, giving her a deep sense of pride. “Well, when you pronounce the words as if your tongue were numbed by Deepwine, I’m going to smirk.”

“Mock not the man that mispronounces a word. It means that he learnt it by reading.” He watched as the lightning flickered so readily from her cool grey fingertips, her tongue curling around the verbal component with ease. He was a little jealous of her skills in this area, her practice with languages not only leaving her skilled in pronunciation but also quick with retorts.

“Mrimm lil faern ulu zhaun lueth ragar natha malla ogglin.” She muttered as she approached him.

“Ah, we mock me further in a less used tongue. How nice it must be to see me struggle for once.”

She bit her lower lip, her burgundy eyes glancing over at him fondly. Their relationship was always one of cat and mouse, the roles often reversing but neither willing to be caught. She approached him, placing her hands on his hips, and lining his body with hers so that they were directly facing one another. She gazed into his deep brown eyes, her mouth in a soft smile at the familiarity that had built up between them. When they had first met, an argument would have broken out over something as insignificant as this, both too proud to admit their faults in front of the other. Now though, they learnt, they grew and bettered each other. “Open your mouth like this.” She pursed her lips slightly, a soft p sound emerging in a whisper.

He sighed. “Illy, my issue is not with the movement of my lips. As we both know, I already have had plenty of practice in that area.”

“Then I guess you will never impress a woman, as lips are not the only element in play.” She ran her tongue delicately over the amethyst curve of her lower lip, a playful taunt to his ever-present ego.

He felt his heart skip a beat, the devious look of her eyes pulling his mind from the spell craft lesson that should have mattered more. He gave a mock huff and pulled the face she ordered of him, believing it ridiculous.

“Now say the spell. Perurere.” The word practically growled out of her as she spoke, her tongue flicking up lightly behind her teeth.

He listened to the music of her voice, watched the way the corners of her mouth subtly rose in an attempt to hide an all too pleased smile. He mimed the spell along with her, his attention not fully on his own attempts to improve, but more on the idea of his tongue entwined with hers; a longing dance they had only engaged in once before.

“Gale Dekarios, at this rate you’ll be summoning only magma mephit for all of eternity. Not to mention letting down many a potential love interest.”

He scoffed at her comment. “I’ll have you know that was only done once, and besides, I didn’t hear you complaining during our brief rendezvous.”

“Beginner’s luck.”

The slight darkened tinge of her cheeks let him know the effect the memories of that night were having, one of truth potions and nararoot tincture. “Hm, well, we certainly cannot be relying on that now, can we?” He leaned himself slightly towards her, his hands placed behind his back, his brown eyes focussed on hers and a devilish gaze passing quickly over them. “Perurere,” he spoke with ease, a charged energy passing between each syllable as his voice hummed.

She felt his warm breath as the spell was pronounced correctly, as his confidence grew seeing her satisfied smile. She reached her hand to his face, a reward for his hard work, and stroked his cheek lightly with the pad of her thumb. “Mrimm lil faern ulu zhaun lueth ragar natha malla ogglin.”

“Illy…” he let out as a barely a whisper, her touch enough to make him lose all composure, her native language another puzzle that he longed to solve about her. “Shall we make an arrangement, of sorts?”

She eyed him up curiously, the warmth of his skin under her palm causing her to wish they could move on to other extra-curricular activities. “And what do you have in mind?”

“I continue to aid you with alchemy.” He brought his own hand to her hip, tugging her towards him lightly, his hot breath mingling with hers, their lips grazing against one another’s. “And in return, you coach me on how to have a more practised tongue.”

_____________________________________

“Mrimm lil faern ulu zhaun lueth ragar natha malla ogglin.” = Guide the wizard to learn and find an honoured rival.

[doueverwonder]

Calilliyork

What are each of their favorite things about each other???

y'all gotta stop sending me good asks when i'm at work and have to wait to respond to them >:\

So like obviously they all deeply appreciate each others ability to see past just the cities they’re known for. It’s why they’re all dating in the first place.

for Illinois pls reference this post first; okay, so knowing that I think he has the same favorite thing about NY and California and it's how sure they are of everything they do, they know what they want and/or what needs to be done and they're going to get it. He'd admire this about them even if they weren't dating, but knowing them that closely just adds to it.

California considers themself a pacifist, but she may fall in love all over again every time NY jumps to defend her. Cali got used to having to be 'me, myself, and i' and since it started dating York takes immense comfort in knowing there's someone right there willing to throw hands for her.

For California's favorite thing about Illinois; its favorite thing I think would just be the finding someone else who feels the same way in their region. No one in the West cares for California all the time, and it's the same with Illinois in the Midwest. There's this relief in falling for someone that is so easy to confide in.

If you ask New York his favorite thing about either of them he'll say "They're less annoying than most people" which roughly translates to "how the fuck am I supposed to pick something they're both so perfect???"

If he had to pick though, I think for California it would be their ability to just go with the flow, and more importantly drag others into the flow. York is horrible at taking breaks and changing plans last minute, his life used to be scheduled to the second and now Cali is making him drop things because she decided last minute it wants to go to the beach and watch the sunset. And god does he love them for it.

for Illinois, Illi is a bit more of a realist now, but fundamentally he always has and always will be the optimist to York's pessimist. When they first really were getting to know each other Chicago was the fastest growing city in recorded history; and gosh was Illinois excited about it back then. NY kinda had this 'wow he doesn't know what comes with all this'. Then the Chicago fire happened and by the time York gets there Illinois is already up and about touting on about how it 'could have been worse'. and in 1893 Illinois is dragging York around Chicago's world fair and he's so excited about the future, and who is York to ruin his dreams. New York is always going to be a pessimist but the only reason he hasn't completely given up yet is because of Illinois.

[prismarts]

Memories and a Reunion

Plot: Three moments in Douxie's lifetime where he remembers his best friend, Illy......... and their reunion, 900 years later.

Notes: Takes place wayyy before ToA but also during Wizards, Just them and an exploration of Douxie thinking about Illy throughout the centuries, small Peter Pan Return to Neverland reference :3, WE ARE SO BACK BABSSS LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOO, I miss them.

Trigger Warnings: Fear of a loved one's death, brief mention of one night stands and flings. Let me know if there are any that I missed-

Word Count: 2171 words

Tags: @tempestimes @mxcheese @alovesongtheywrote @blixeon @gafanhotoanarquistax3 @gaylightisminetocommand @nyxicnymph @slowpokenz @sergeantsporks @honeyxmonkey @tenebrius-excellium @generalfandomsofthefreak @bernie-the-nugget @lovedropletsdreams @glorious-pxrpose @valentimmy @tales-of-hisirdoux

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Douxie always held his life back in Camelot in his memories, in his heart. Despite everything, Camelot was his home and where he spent a good while of his life there… That was where he was accepted as Merlin’s apprentice, where he met Morgana and gained a permanent place to live with his familiar and learn magic.

But it was also where he met his best friend, Illy….

Of course he would always remember to keep his life in Camelot in his memories, even with the kingdom long gone by the time he started his journey to other kingdoms and villages, to other countries and lands…

Memories of the people he cared about so deeply and the times he had there, they were special to him…Merlin, Morgana……

Illy..

There were three specific moments in his centuries long journey where he thinks about the spellcaster, his best friend…

The first time was…. So simple… When Douxie looked back on this moment, he almost chuckled fondly, thinking about how something so small could remind him of her…

He was travelling to a neighbouring town at the time, taking a longer route through a flourishing field. With Archie on his shoulders, he was walking along the dirt path and looking around the area, taking in the scenery of the open field.

The clouds floating around slowly as the wind gently blew through his hair as something small caught his golden hazel and green eyes nestled amongst the soft grass as he quietly strayed from the dirt path and towards the open field.

“Douxie, where are you going?”

Archie asked as he watched his wizard familiar kneel down on the soft grass and stare at the small bundles of forget me nots nestled on the ground.

“Look Arch, forget me nots!...”, Douxie said, a hint of excitement in his voice as he glanced at his cat familiar as he saw Archie tilt his head, “Indeed, Douxie…what about them?”, his familiar asked curiously.

The young wizard has never really shown interest in flowers before…

“They’re Illy’s favourite…remember?..”, The wizard replied in a soft voice, turning his head again to stare at the small flowers, waving around through the wind as he felt a small, nostalgic smile spread across his face.

“It is….I’m surprised you remembered…” Archie said as he watched his young familiar roll his eyes playfully as he glanced at the black cat on his shoulder, “Of course, I remember….”, he mumbled before going back to looking at the flowers quietly.

“I wonder what she’s up to….”

He wondered out loud, a worried frown quietly making its way to his face as he fully sat himself down with a sigh, “I hope she’s alright..”, He mumbled, holding the bud of the flower in his hand, being careful not to pick it off.

“I’m sure she is, Douxie…. She’s a strong spellcaster…wherever she is, I’m sure she’s safe..”, The familiar on his shoulder said as he gently bumped his head against Douxie’s as an attempt to cheer him up.

“R..right….of course she is….I suppose I’m just…realising how long it’s been…since we last saw each other..” 

“Well…. You’ll see each other again Douxie… I can’t tell you exactly when that is…but the day will come.”

Archie watches as Douxie takes a breath, smiling a little sadly as he nodded, “You’re right, Archie….I just have to wait and see..”, He mumbled, carefully picking a small bundle of the forget me nots.

“For now…I can find ways to just…remember her..” 

Douxie took out his heavy leather bound notebook out of his pack, carefully opening to two empty pages and placing the bundle of flowers and closing the book, pressing the flowers into its pages.

He packed up his notebook before standing back up, being careful of Archie perched on his shoulder as he spotted a sparkling turquoise butterfly fluttering past in the distance, smiling as they continued their journey.

Centuries later, another moment came…

Well, less of a moment and more of a realisation on Douxie’s part, he admits as he thinks back on it.

It was the 90s, he had just gotten into a relationship with a mortal girl, Alice. She was sweet and kind, he was happy with her despite the relationship not lasting long.

It wasn’t because of anything terrible, Alice was amazing really, but Douxie had gotten used to not being attached to mortals….it was harder as an immortal to do so and he’s built a wall around himself.

He just couldn’t bring himself to stay in relationships with mortals long term, most times they end up being very brief single nights of intimacy…

But he also noticed something else, how much she reminded him of Illy… It wasn’t too obvious at first, she has small physical similarities…. 

She was a brunette, freckles littering her cheeks like Illy… she was a little on the shorter side as well.

But what really hit the young wizard hard were the similarities in their personalities, his girlfriend was well read, she was smart and kind. She was shy at first but grew to be more talkative as their relationship went on.

She was gentle and soft spoken…

She reminded him so much of Illy, she reminded him of his best friend…The best friend he hasn’t seen in centuries at this point of his life.

Douxie was laying in his bed as the realisation hit, staring at the ceiling and getting so lost in thought as he tossed and turned.

He never expected to think of Illy this way, of course he didn’t. She was his best friend, he hasn’t seen her since Camelot…. 

He’s never had these thoughts before….

Never realised if any of his partners, as rare as it was for him to be in relationships, he never realised if any of his past partners ever reminded him of Illy.

His face burned, going warm as his cheeks turned red as he thought about it, sitting up abruptly as he covered his face with his hands with a heavy sigh. Running his fingers through his bangs as he glanced out the window.

“Douxie, are you alright?..”

He flinched, hearing Archie’s voice as the cat familiar jumped up the bed as he glanced down at him for a moment.

“I….I don’t know….I guess…I was thinking..”

“Whatever about?..”

Douxie thought to himself quietly as he looked out the window for a moment before glancing at Archie, “Do….you ever notice….that Alice is a lot like Illy?..”, he asked quietly.

There was a silence in the room for a moment before Archie spoke up, seemingly in thought the whole time, “I suppose so…. She isn’t completely like Illy, of course…but I suppose she does remind me of her….why?..”

“I…I just never realised it before, I suppose….and it’s…I’m not sure why I’m thinking about it. Illy’s just…..my best friend..and I shouldn’t be thinking about this…..right?..”

“Well….I wouldn’t say it’s an awful thing to think about… You’re maybe just realising you have certain traits you gravitate towards.”

“I…guess?...”

Douxie mumbled, sounding unsure of himself as he took a breath for a moment, “Do you think we’ll ever see her again?... It’s been……centuries…since we left Camelot, since we said goodbye… We haven’t seen her at all…”

“...We have no way of knowing if…..if she’s even alive…”

He let out a shaky sigh, getting up from his bed completely, opening the window and leaning his head on the window sill. Staring at the night sky quietly as he felt tears prick at his eyes.

Archie quietly jumped onto the window sill next to his wizard familiar, sitting himself down as he nuzzled his head against his young wizard, purring as an attempt to comfort him.

“Maybe someday….we’ll see her again….. There’s also no way for us to know either way…but if she is alive…then we’ll see her again someday….”

Douxie let out a shaky sigh as he gently leaned his head a little against Archie as he purred, the both of them looking out the window as he could have sworn he saw the same glowing turquoise butterfly he did centuries ago flying by in the distance.

He smiled sadly, sighing, “Maybe you’re right, Arch….thank you..”, he mumbled softly as they stared at the stars together.

Years later, he was tossed onto a flying ship. 

Narrowly escaping the Green Knight and his attacks on the bookstore with Merlin, Toby, Steve and AAARRRGGHH in tow. Archie having been with him since the start of the night like he’s always been.

They were flying through the sky quickly, Douxie holding onto the side of the ship as it slowed down slightly when the castle came into sight.

The young wizard’s breath caught in his throat for a moment at the sight of his old home flying in the sky, effectively having drowned out the excited conversations from the two kids and his old Master in the distance.

Douxie smiled fondly, leaning slightly on the railing of the ship as he looked at his old home, memories of his time in Camelot slowly flooding back to him..

Memories of Illy resurfacing….

He can’t help the feeling of his racing heart as the memories resurface, questions flooding his mind eternally.

Is she here? Has she been here for a while? Master Merlin…didn’t mention her…

Has she changed much since he last saw her? She had to have changed somewhat…it has been centuries..

Would….she even remember him?... 

Would she recognize him?...

His head was reeling at the thought….hoping so badly that his best friend did remember him…that she could recognize him right away.

He was finally going to see her again!

The excitement was making his heart jump around in his chest, the closer they got to the castle…

Oh, if he only knew what would happen…

He could never imagine he would have to bring an entire group into hiding at Hex Tech, almost suffering the wrath of Zoe, who….he really owed after that day.

He could never imagine that he would have had to go back to the past…

He would never imagine he would have reunited with Illy from his Camelot days before he could even see her from his own timeline..

He never imagined that Illy would kiss him before the Battle of Killahead…

He glanced down at the girl in question, the girl currently occupying his brain amongst all the danger and adrenaline.

She looks…different, her hair was significantly shorter, messily cut and draping just above her shoulders. She was dressed differently too, her lady in waiting gown in shades of green replaced with an outfit more befitting of a wizard.

A dark green vest over a white tunic top, a wrapped around skirt, pants and heavy brown and silver boots. Silver detailing scattered all over now that he had the time to really take in her different look.

Her eyes were still the same shimmering turquoise…but at the moment it seemed hardened…her eyes seemed puffy and red…as if she had been crying.

She looked upset.

Douxie felt a pang of pain when he noticed….was there some form of guilt in there as well? Maybe…was she upset with him? Because they haven’t seen each other in so long?

He couldn’t tell…

And perhaps he had been looking at her for a tad longer than he intended…because as soon as he glanced away, he tenses, hearing her quiet voice.

“Douxie?..”

Douxie looked back down at Illy, seeing her look up at him quietly, her turquoise coloured eyes almost inspecting him in a way he just couldn’t explain..

“..Hello, Illy..”, He said, his voice soft as he did, being mindful at how tense she seemed.

There was an awkward silence as they looked at each other, Illy staring at him for a moment, looking him up and down before glancing down, “....You changed…” She barely whispered, her voice fragile and almost solemn..

The now Master Wizard looked down at her, the hurt in his chest getting a little worse… something happened to her…and he wanted to know everything, but there was so much going on at the moment.

Douxie reached out, taking Illy’s hand in his with a soft squeeze as she whipped her head up to look at him, “Not really….not ever… I’m still the same moppet you knew…all those centuries ago..”, he said, a fond smile appearing on his face.

He watched as Illy let out a shaky sigh as tears appeared in her eyes, in that moment, that was what she saw… the same moppet she befriended and fell in love with all those centuries ago.

She squeezed his hand back gently, a small giggle escaping her.

“I guess you are…..I really missed you, Douxie…” She mumbled softly, leaning her head on his arm, gently. 

Pulling a soft chuckle from the taller wizard, a sound Illy thought she would never hear again before today….

“I missed you too, Illy…”

[bokettochild]

came back wrong sounds like a very wild thing

and maybe twi could have obedience? something about wolfie and training could be angsty.

If no one suggested that one for Wild, I wanted to do it anyways LOL

Since I already posted Day 4 elsewhere, I'll give you Day 16 personally <3

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 8,047

Summary: Coming back changed the Hero of the Wilds, and he's known it for a while. he's not sure how much changed, although he's happy to let Zelda and Purah try and find out. He does know though that there's a certain sort of power that lurks under his skin now, one capable of many things, but it comes with one great disadvantage: he doesn't know how to make it stop once he's started to employ it.

(This is set in the Inner Hero AU, so there are references to the other fics of that series, so consider this your warning!)

-

  It’s no great secret to anyone in Hyrule that there’s something Wrong with their hero. Since the shrine of resurrection, he isn’t what those who once knew him remember, and even those who’d never met the him from Before can sense that their hero isn’t exactly like the rest of them. Most of them accept that oddness as just another quirk or some such, just something intrinsic to Link, the weird kid who wanders the kingdom and somehow is also the hero that defeated the Calamity. 

  The Zora accepted it as a change brought by time, much as their own selves have all become altered in the hundred years since last they saw him. Maybe they know too; maybe they’re just too polite to say, but they never fuss about it. 

  Zelda knows though. She’s told him plainly that she knows he’s not what he used to be. He’s still him, she assures, because she knows the smile he spares for his mounts and recognizes the little habits he’d never have suspected she’d caught before the Calamity occurred. He’s still him, she says, but he’s More now too. 

  He came back different. 

  Purah and Zelda have looked into it, with his permission. He's sat and watched his girls sit with their head’s together over tests and papers and results as they try to understand how he’d changed. It’s nice, in a way. He's not very involved and, in many ways, he feels as though they forget at times that he’s able to hear them and the clinical way they refer to their study of him, but it’s not with any ill intent that they do so. In fact, it’s sort of nice to slip into the background of their minds and watch them at their most natural, see their bright smiles and hear them talk over each other and cut each other off in their excitement as they come to similar conclusions 

  He treasures the time spent up at the tower above Hateno, He treasures the time where he can simply exist as he is beside those he cares about, watching them bustle about doing what they love while he can finally rest in peace, knowing that his work is done, that nothing calls him out and that he can linger there as long as he pleases, without guilt. He can see what he was denied; Zelda’s joy, her eagerness, her freedom, and enjoy his own as well. 

  It’s good. 

  Returning to the rest of the world though, he’s always reminded again of how illy he fits among them. Magic has faded from the land of Hyrule, but he is steeped in it. Those around him walk with only the slightest bit of the power of heaven in their veins, yet his body overflows with magic that seeps out of the cracks left by his death. Zelda has compared him to the broken pottery he leaves across the kingdom, cracked and damaged by his adventure, and from those cracks, the power that twisted up with his own to bring him back from the brink now ekes out into the world, twisting and strange. Hylians aren’t meant to understand the feeling of Death’s touch, she says, eyes solemn and wary, lip pulled between her teeth as she’ll scan his face for signs of pain or sadness at her words. He knows she means well to do so, but he understands, and there’s really no need to be sad over such a thing. 

 He’s not normal, but it’s not their fault, and as they still accept him, still treat him with kindness, he feels little hurt for the changes that occurred to bring him to their sides. It’s a sacrifice he’d make again, even knowing what it will do. Watching Hyrule flourish in the wake of the Calamity, watching their victory paint the world anew in life and prosperity for their people, it’s worth dying and being pieced together again for, even if what holds his once drifting soul to his broken body is a magic no one can explain to him. 

  Life is good as long as he learns to hold back the worst of the magic, keep it tamed and keep his temper in check, which is hardly any struggle around most people. There are a few, certain people who drive him crazy and make him want very much to do things a hero ought not, but he holds himself back, and when Zelda really wants him to test himself, to see how much he can restrain the twisting Thing that has become part of him, she’ll challenge him to deal with those people. Really, they make it a game, so even if those people do drive him mad, seeing Zelda beam and mumble to herself at what they’ve learned from such encounters makes it worth it. 

  For her, he’d do anything. After all, he’s already died for her, what worse is there? 

  Well, as it would seem, leaving her behind for the sake of undertaking a new journey is worse. She’s happy in Hateno, capable of defending herself with both her magic and the archery her family is renowned for across the ages. She’s not as good as he is with a bow, but it’s a near thing, and he has no doubt that one more trip to Rito village, one more study session with Tulin and Teba, is all it will take before his princess can out-do him with his own preferred weapon.  

  Even knowing she can handle herself just fine doesn’t make leaving her behind any easier though. He’s still not sure how he’d managed, but he had. He had and he’d stumbled across the other heroes, joining them in their quest. It’s not perfect, not by any means, they’ve found peace in their new team. While there’s still some settling and sifting to be done before they click together like a real team, they are getting there. 

  He may have thrown a wrench in that process though. 

  See, since meeting the heroes, his magic has been rather well behaved. None of them rub him the wrong way, and while he isn’t exactly friendly with them all, they’re not the sort of people who push his boundaries or upset him either. He can co-exist beside them, and in many ways they remind him of the champions. He’s not sure how Time would feel knowing that in many ways he makes the cook think of Chief Urbosa, but he thinks Twilight might get a laugh out of being compared to Daruk. Of course, not everyone has similarities to the champions; Warriors isn’t like anyone he’s met before and he doubts he’ll ever meet anyone like him again, but it’s there for the rest. It's mostly just small things; they are, after all, their own persons, but finding something familiar to define them with makes approaching and working beside them easier. Four possesses the same quiet strength as Riju, Legend the certainty and experience of Teba, and Sidon’s wit and charm peeks through the traveler’s smile at times. Using what he knows about other people, about those he knew before, he can navigate the group with some decency. There's hiccups and there’s snags, but fortunately, they rarely if ever involve him, and never his magic. 

  Until now. 

  He sits back and tries to learn when he finally realizes that the others have magic spilling out from their cracks as well. Warriors is fire and Twilight is rich earth, Somehow, Legend is the force that quiets both, and despite a harsh outwards demeanor, the man holds a surprising amount of sway over the group as a whole. 

  In many ways, Legend reminds him of the Zelda from Before. There’s a potential for something bright and warm and rambling, something that would flourish if left alone and free to its own will, but like his princess, the vet restrains it for some reason or another. Duty drove Zelda, and he thinks something similar leads the vet, because no other factor has yet appeared. It’s there though, that warmth and light, mixed with a strength that is regarded and respected even if it isn’t followed. Legend is no leader, but his word has power, and they all listen to what he has to say in regards to what it is that they face. Not only that, but the vet’s magic is a twisting, free thing that is embraced and clung to by those in their gathering. 

  Warriors and Twilight seek its peace, and Sky urges it forwards with bright smiles and open arms as he somehow slips past the thorns of trailing magic to get at the hidden blossoms beneath. Time, in his own way, accepts it, although he does little with it. Wind seeks it, and Hyrule, whether the traveler seems to realize it or not, has tuned himself to it.  

  Wild may be clueless as to how people work normally, but he can understand magic. He can see how Hyrule’s flickering and dancing light embraces the magic of the veteran, and while he doesn’t grasp where the older ones do, he does linger and bask in it. 

  Wild doesn’t blame him. Legend’s magic feels like safety, like the goddess statues across Hyrule, the ones that quiet his soul and the twisting of his mind to grant him peace and rest even when he’s at his worst. Hylia, they say, is a goddess of Life, so it’s natural that her light would ease or even erase the darkness of Death. He's not sure how Legend’s magic echos that of the goddess, like the moon reflecting the suns rays even once the bright star has faded from view, but he welcomes that warmth and light all the same. 

 Losing that light affects them all. They are, after all, all beings of light, so losing the source that travels with them, having it snuffed out or hidden, leaves all antsy and ill at ease, and he doesn’t blame them. He still doesn’t appreciate Hyrule’s approach to fixing it though. 

  They’d talked, and maybe he'd let his own worries and insecurities spill over. Maybe he’d not correctly portrayed what he thinks he’d seen in the face of their brother when the vet had had Claims explained to him, but what really bothers him is how quickly his words were cast aside, how quickly Hyrule had returned to twining his magic with Legend’s own, laughing and chatting like nothing had happened and he hadn’t tried to tie down a ray of light itself. 

  He’s seen people try to tame light, bend it to their will and force it to linger rather than shine over the world as intended. His princess was never meant to stay locked in a castle, hidden in dark rooms to pray for power she wasn’t allowed to seek on her own terms; to find within herself what had always been. Seeing her free now, riding where she will and doing what she wants, he sees that light realized, knows the same could be found if Legend is allowed to do the same, as he’s expressed wanting. Light doesn’t belong to anyone after all, but to everyone, although they can’t hold it or keep it. Legend feels the same, at least with their group, and he wishes Hyrule would understand that. 

  The problem is, he’s not sure how to talk to vet about it. 

  Twilight, Warriors, Sky and Hyrule all feel free to approach, but Wild has never had anything with which to connect himself to the vet, no foundation for a friendship. They're such different people, and he’s not so blind as to have missed how the vet recoils when his own magic flares and hisses along the edges of the others in camp. His magic, the twisting, festering, darkness of it, entwines with Zelda’s like second nature, both dimming each other to the point of being null. In contrast, he lacks the familiarity with the vet to do the same, and instead, Life’s light flickers and hides when he loses control of the darkness of Death. 

  He wishes it wasn’t so, but it is. 

  How does fire that burns and earth that tends to smother have such a way to twist up with light, yet the un-named otherness of his own soul can’t find a harmony of its own? 

  “Wild, hey, focus.” 

  He shakes himself, staring up at Twilight where the other is standing next to him with a worried look on his face. “Huh?” 

  “You good?” The rancher asks, “you drifted out again.” 

  It wasn’t a memory, but it strikes him that he has, in fact, been sitting here unmoving for the last twenty minutes or so, and that’s probably just a bit worrying to the others. “Yeah, just lost in my head.” 

 The man frowns, settling himself down slowly on the loam underfoot so he’s sitting at Wild’s side, dark stare searching over him as though for an injury of some kind. “Anything on your mind?” 

  Does he tell? He can’t help the way his eyes drift to where the vet and captain sit back to back by the fire, Hyrule so close his knees are almost touching the vet’s as they face each other and chat, busy at work with their sewing and magic even as the captain writes what’s probably a report to his princess. They look at peace, somehow already over the latest hiccup of their group and already resettling into place as though it never happened, as though the subject of Claims never came up at all. How can do they do it? 

  He shakes his head. “Just thinking is all.” The doubt on the face of the other is soothed with a smile, dark gaze softening at the sight of flashing teeth. “Not memories or anything, I promise.” 

  “If you’re sure...” 

  “I am,” he says again, chuckling slightly for extra good measure. “At worst, I’m a bit homesick, at best, just confused, and considering this is me,” he laughs again, watches the face of his brother relax into one of those easy smiles they are al so used to, “I’m pretty sure that’s just normal.” 

  A heavy hand claps down on his shoulder, squeezing slightly, and despite the lingering concern in the rancher’s face, he is smiling. “If you’re sure. Remember though, pup, I’m here if ya need me.” 

  “I know.” He smiles in return, but beneath, his magic seethes just a bit. Twilight is great, Twilight is amazing, Twilight is there if he needs something and always offers a shoulder to lean on, and he’s incredibly thankful for that. But the rancher is also against the idea of using most magics, and despite the fact that he knows Twilight would never resent them for their own use of the stuff, his choice being personal preference rather than a hard belief about it in general, it does still mean he’s rather...ignorant, at least when it comes to magic. He can’t help here, and he probably wouldn’t even understand half of what Wild would need to explain. No, because unlike certain people, he doesn’t have a mastery for teaching. Good grief, he wishes Zelda was here, or even Purah, they could explain this mess to him, and maybe help him find a solution. He’s good at fighting and exploring and making things, not magic. He’s not qualified for all of this! 

  At the other side of camp, he sees Wind sit up abruptly, eyes scanning the world around him, wary. He's not the only one either, for Warriors is grabbing his sword as he scans the trees, Legend’s ears are flicking about, seeking something. He doesn’t feel or see or hear anything though, and it’s only when he sees the fiery glow of Hyrule’s gaze on him that he realizes he’s lost control again. 

  His magic really doesn’t do any of them any favors, does it? 

  He needs to gather it up again and tuck it away in a neat little box, watch guards relax again as the heroes puzzle at the sudden disappearance of whatever they’d felt or thought they’d sensed. Warriors gets up and starts patrolling the camp, leaving his own magic twisting here and there, like a spider casting a web, but predictably, he finds nothing to indicate that they are in any danger, even after he and Twilight have checked the forest around them. 

  Honestly, the longer they look, the more he wants to shrink in on himself and just... bang his head against a tree or something. 

  He feels like a threat to those he cares about, and they have no idea, because they don’t know it’s him that makes them jump to an alert and drop what they’re doing to instead prepare for a fight. 

  It’s worse in a fight though. 

  The next time they’re on a battlefield, Warriors leading the charge with Time and Sky, Legend and Four covering their asses and darting around the field to take out the threats that creep up upon the others, it slips loose. The problem is that it’s his monsters they’re fighting, recognizable by the fact that they’re not nearly as horrific to look at as the creatures from nearly all the others’ eras. He knows them, and they know him, and its sort of his habit when fighting in his own world, where the likelihood of other people being around is basically null, to just... let go. 

  Magic surges around him, a twisting, snapping thing that creeps and twists and twines over and around the enemies, driving them into a state of frenzy at the threat of something, something that their senses can’t pick up, but their souls can feel all the same; feel creeping over them, ready to snatch, to grab, to destroy. Death is scary to the creatures that aren’t familiar with its touch, and even those that act as it’s messengers tremble when the focus of Death is turned from their prey and onto themselves. The bokoblins run about attacking anything that moves, including each other, and it makes sweeping in and slaying them so much easier than if he was just fighting like the others do. 

  It helps that the monsters have come to know to associate the creeping presence of Death with his face, and they know, even before his sword slips across their throats or through their chests, exactly what’s coming. The ones that have met him before, brought back by red moons and dark malice, only fear it more with experience, and it’s sort of...satisfying, unleashing it all and watching the enemy panic, half knowing what’s coming to them and the other half unaware but just as panicked. 

  Once they’ve all fallen though, there’s always one little problem, one he’d sort of forgotten about. 

  “What the heck is this?” It’s Legend calling out, eyes wide, stance wide, sword gripped in one hand and fire rod in the other as his gaze flicks across the field; searching, looking.  Similarly, Warriors is staring about with that glinting look in his eyes, teeth bared, and ears pricked back, a dragon ready to surge out and rip something apart the moment it reveals itself. All the heroes are still looking about for the final threat, and Wild- 

  Wild can’t control the magic. 

  It happens, sometimes. If he leans into his magic, he can’t tame it so easily. It’s like a particularly eager stallion; plunging ahead no matter how he leans back in the saddle or tries to turn the creature off course, turn it, slow it, circle until its energy dies and it listens to him again. Magic isn’t an animal he can slow down though, and despite their efforts, neither he nor Zelda have found a way for him to get it under control by himself. They just have to wait until it calms of its own accord, for now. Purah said she’d try and help him find a way to control it, since it’s his, it's part of him, so reasonably he should be able to control it, just like a limb, a muscle, another part of himself physically. Zelda says it’s because it’s still new, still unfamiliar, still something he’s adapting to, so he’s still learning how it’s part of him, like a pup discovering its own wagging tail, although far less innocent because puppy tails don’t have everyone around you preparing to fend off a death blow. 

    Warriors snarls something he can’t make out, something that has the twisting darkness around them surging back in kind.  

  Wild isn’t trying to threaten, he swears. If anything, there’s something in the magic, in himself, that hears the dragon’s threat and eagerly bounces forwards in response. Now is not a good time though, in fact, it’s probably the worst of times. 

  Hyrule’s eyes are turned on him, harsh and just slightly scared, like they had been in the inn room. Still, the other hero darts to his side and, under his breath, unable to be heard by the others past their own panic, the traveler hisses at him. “Can it, champ.” 

  “I can’t,” he hisses back. He’s trying, but he’s fighting against a part of himself that he still can’t understand, and he’s not sure how to bind it back when it’s strong, only when it’s just beginning to peak out and is just the slightest of strains. Now it’s a howling force he can’t keep back, and all attempts are failing badly. 

  “Are you trying?” The embers in those eyes are flickering, but Hyrule’s voice isn’t harsh so much as straining, worried. The gaze of the traveler is trailing over the rest of their group, aware of their panic and doing his best to try and quell the source, but unwilling, Wild realizes, to reveal it. Hyrule has no interest in exposing him, just making him turn it off. 

  The problem though it he can’t. “Yes! It’s not working!” 

  Some very harsh words slip from the tongue of the other, but it’s not hylian. It’s not fae either, which he’d recognize, but something smoother and less lilting. Legend would know it, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t suppose it matters either. 

  Flames rise against his darkness, a raging force that shrieks and screams. Hyrule’s ears are pricked back as far as they can go, too many teeth glinting in the fading light of the setting sun, light that sets his face aglow as magic surges in a silent battle around them, one that has Warriors tensing, Twilight balking. Wild can feel the wings of the dragon flaring, the lash of the tail, can almost see the rise of the wolf’s hackles. There’s a crackling energy around their chosen hero, a surge of light from their vet, shields rising against the unseen threat, but Hyrule’s magic surging against his own, lashing and licking along the darkness in a roaring flame that reaches to consume and destroy, has his full attention. 

  He doesn’t try and fight it. Hyrule is pushing back what he can’t handle himself, but the boundaries thrown up around his own power, boxing it in and forcing it back, won’t last, and he knows it. The strain is clear on his brother. He’s not sure how strong his own magic is, but the color is draining out of the traveler’s face, his breath quickening as the whipping and shrieking of the fae’s magic pushes back against the hiss and shadow of Death, steadily pushing it back and bottling it up within some confines the traveler must have forged himself, because it’s not just tucked back into the spot within him that he usually pulls it from. The hand on Hyrule’s sword is turning white with the effort of actions unseen, but he sees the guards of the others lower, sees the strain flow out of their shoulders as, at long last, the magic is bottled up and away, still writhing and twitching, but unable to break free. 

  Honestly, it’s terrifying. He didn’t know Hyrule could do that. 

  The traveler sags beside him, breathing hard as he stumbles, but when he reaches out to catch his brother, Hyrule stumbles back. “No, just....” dark lashes flutter and Hyrule’s lips are slightly grey, “Don’t.” 

  So, he doesn’t. 

  Not too far away, Legend is creeping up into the space of their captain, voice low and wary, like he’s approaching a spooked animal, and like any other time in the past, the moment clarity returns to eyes the color of holy flame, Warriors is dropping his sword and grabbing ahold of his brother, hunching over him as Legend sighs and let’s himself be clutched close, huffing words the rest can’t hear but which have short little ears twitching slightly out of their pricked back position. 

  Similarly, Twilight is checking in with the rest, reaching to touch, to self-assure. Clapping Wind’s shoulder and brushing against Four. Time reaches out to the rancher first, but the touch lingers, both comforting each other and themselves before turning to Sky, who’s sheathing the Master Sword and happily accepts the worry of the others, assuring with a smile and a light nudge to Twilight’s shoulder, eyes bleeding warmth that Wild envies. None of them approach the captain, but Legend calls something to them, huffing and half laughing past the arms wrapped around him, an promise that all is well as his magic soothes twisting scales and quells flames. 

  The warmth of Life surges, like a balm, around all of them. Legend’s reach touching the rest even despite the fact that they seem as blind to his efforts as they had been to the source of their previous fear. 

  “You alright, boys?” Time asks, Twilight at his side as the both move to the sides of their wildlings. Their leader’s eyes linger on Hyrule, and when he reaches out, the traveler lets himself sag against the man’s touch. 

  Hyrule doesn’t like touch, Wild reminds himself, trying to excuse the denial he’d faced at a similar offer. Only Time seems exempt from that rule, and it’s probably only because of the fairy magic that lingers faintly over the other, the remains of an old Claim resting about the edges of his magic to mark him as something not quite fae, but treasured by them all the same. If the traveler reaches for that magic, he doesn’t say anything, and Time doesn’t seem to notice either. 

  “I’m okay,” he answers honestly. The worst effect his own magic had had on him was fear at not being able to control it; not the overwhelming terror that seemed to grip the others that they would fall victim to it. 

  Twilight’s eyes linger on him shortly, but drift away after, apparently accepting his words as truth and determining that the others, still shaken and, in Hyrule’s case, trembling with exhaustion, require his attention more. Still, the rancher grips his shoulder briefly in passing, assuring himself and offering brief comfort to the champion in the process. 

  It’s nice, but as he moves away, leaving their leader and his mentor to tend to the exhausted half-fae, he can’t help but watch the others. Specifically, his gaze trails to where Warriors is sagging against their vet, making the smaller man stumble with a cut off laugh as he pats broad shoulders, magic still twisting and entwining with flames as easily as though they’re naught but harmless air. 

  Life pours across the group of them, a heavy weight that settles across their shoulders with the grace and warmth of a cat climbing up to greet it’s master, its presence a comfort that he wants so bad to catch ahold of and nestle into, like he once had curled at the base of goddess statues when his own power wouldn’t quiet, letting the power of Hylia soothe him when he couldn’t do it himself. He wishes there was a goddess stature here too, because as much as Legend reflects that same power, his arms are rather full of their captain, and the hold of gloved hands in red fabric says that he won’t be free for at least a while more. Not that Wild could ask anyways. He and Legend aren’t close to begin with, asking for the same welcome as is granted to the dragon that has slowly been tamed to his brother’s presence isn’t realistic by any means. Still, it’s easier to hide the writhing presence bottled up by force when he’s slinking closer to the source of comfort in their camp, so if he settles closer to the vet and captain than he normally would that evening, after finishing with making dinner, well, Hyrule’s the only one who really seems to take notice. Warriors is distracted with teasing their sailor, and while Legend’s dark gaze lifts to greet him as he moves over, the man says nothing at his choice of seat, just keeps eating his dinner quietly. 

  Hyrule is staring, a warning look in those eyes when they’re on him, but worry when they turn to the veteran. He doesn’t say anything from where he’s slumped against Time though, across the fire and picking at his food. The traveler is exhausted, and reasonably so. The others don’t know why, so it’s natural that they’re worrying, and the cave dweller hasn’t elected to explain himself either, so they probably will continue to do so for a good while. 

  Despite the camp-fire between them, Hyrule’s magic, weak and tired, has still managed to entwine with the vet’s. Legend answers back with flickers of his own power to the embers that scatter themselves at his feet, assuring and fond, even if there’s confusion in the flicker of his ears, the twitch of his hands and the gaze of starlit violet that turns from time to time to meet faintly glowing embers. 

  Wild doesn’t dare try and sneak his own flickering, snapping power out to try and reach, knowing far too well what the reaction would be, but also wary of the escape of the still writhing power that surges against the wall of flames raised around it. 

  How Hyrule bottled back his strength, he doesn’t know, but it feels dangerously like a weak seal; like golden power meant to keep back evil. He isn’t sure of a lot right now, but the idea of that makes him uneasy and definitely bothers him. He’s not a monster or demon that needs restraining by holy power, but the fact that he’d failed to hold himself back enough that Hyrule would feel the need to take such measures at all is just as pressing a pain to his pride and soul as the action itself. 

  The magic holds though. His soul doesn’t creep and screech against that of the others after that. Doesn’t even surge when his emotions run hot. If anything, it thrashes within its confines, but it doesn’t escape to twist like a net around those he considers friends and brothers. Unfortunately, that also means that it doesn’t emerge when faced with enemies either. 

  The next time they’re in battle, this time against something Legend calls a ‘gleeok’ and which he desperately hopes will never appear in his own world, he somehow can’t summon his own magic at all. It’s there, he can feel it, but trying to bring it out, even just the smallest amount, proves to have no results. Every prod, every call, every little hiss of his soul to push and pull and just get his magic to respond, has it only thrashing more, wild within its confines but not breaking past them. 

  His sword plunges and stabs, and the heroes around him do the same. Warriors is a whirlwind of power and ferocity as he charges in head on, the vet’s magic raising in a shield and Hyrule’s own likewise surging across the field in strikes that leave their foe howling and screaming in anger, flames licking across the ground in response, but his own power can only beat at the bounds created around it. He can’t break them, but he’s trying. He’s trying and surging, biting his lip with focus to the point he knows there’s blood trailing across his face from his own efforts and not any wound dealt by the dragon like monster they’re pitted against, but it isn’t working. 

  He hisses as a tail rises up to thrash at him, drops and rolls to avoid the impact of it hitting him, all the time pushing at the seal on his own magic in a valiant attempt to summon it, only to still be met with no results. He could ask Hyrule, if the other wasn’t on the other side of the enemy and currently absorbed with trying to stop the head firing at him with flames that surge and lick around a magic shield thrown up at only the last of moments. Still, with the amount of effort it took to raise the seal on his power, he doesn’t know if the traveler could even summon the strength to undo that same work, not when he’s so busy currently trying to avoid getting killed. 

  It’s driving Wild mad though. 

  Before, he was the knight of the princess who had the power to topple an army of lynels. He'd lost some of that to Death, but in return had been granted something he’s used like second nature since, letting it ruin and destroy and tear apart and terrorize anything and everything that dared rise before him as he’d worked across the kingdom in an effort to rescue the one who’d called him back out of Death’s hold. He can’t control it once it’s free, but he’d at least been able to employ it before, and being without it in the first time in his memory has a fear he hates bubbling up from within, anger surging at the bonds of magic to snap and hiss and cry with a wildness he hadn’t known he possessed. 

  He wants free. He wants to unleash the wildness he’d been named for and let it at the very least leave their foe cowing, if only slightly, as the imminence of its own fate is made clear to it. 

  He can’t. 

  He can’t because Hyrule bottled it, and he hates that. 

  Not Hyrule. He doesn’t hate Hyrule. The traveler had done him a favor by rendering him tolerable for the others to be around again without leaving them straining themselves to understand the threat they’d felt slipping about them. What he hates is the bounds of the seal closing in around him like the walls of the shrine he’d woken within time and again, aching pains all over from half healed wounds that had been strained over and over by efforts to push free from a prison of stone. The shrine had felt as though it was closing in on him and keeping him sealed, leaving him only to awake and fight and pass out, water filling his lungs and straining his body as he’d tried to escape from his confines only to fail yet again.. He’d healed long before he’d escaped, and since letting on the truth to Purah (but not Zelda, he could never tell her about that), she’d started looking into why it had kept him so much longer, but so far, they have had no results. Still, the feeling of being trapped, sealed, shut off from his own strength, it drives him mad. There’s a writhing and snapping, a hiss and a scream, a howling of something in his soul as it tears at the bonds. 

  Slowly, they give way. 

  It’s like a dam breaking. Just a crack, then a hole, then the rest comes crumbling down and, from the other side of the battlefield, he hears Hyrule’s breath shudder, catches ember eyes rising, wide and terrified. And then he’s free. 

  His magic sweeps like a fierce current, a mighty wave, a shadow that plunges over the field and has the gleeok before them screaming, turning its heads for a source of the threat it feels, and thus missing the approach of the captain who’s own surging flames rise beside the shadows, a pulsing, pounding force as the man severs a head and sends it falling towards their waiting leader, who dispatches the thing before the creature can do more than cry out in pain. Writhing darkness twists, twining and trapping and sharing the feelings that only moments before had overwhelmed him; now wrapping themselves around their foe and leaving it frenzied and panicked as the rest of the heroes, despite their own obvious awareness of the new presence, surge forwards. 

  In a strange way, he thinks the flames and scales of the captain are surging stronger as well, pushing back with a hiss against his own magic, one he can’t help but respect, power surging away to let the older man take charge and wreak havoc on their foe while he focuses instead on keeping it on edge. The captain’s magic isn’t stronger than his, but it’s not something he has a wish to reckon with either, and like so many times before, he finds that even the twisting of Death finds something to admire in the lashing of the war hero’s own power. 

  Their foe falls quickly after that. 

  Once the gleeok lies dead, dissipating into black and purple smoke and leaving only the barest remains, he feels able to breathe again.  

  The others though, are not. Wariness marks their features, save Hyrule who looks so, so tired; desperate and weary as though the idea of trying to push back the force of their brother yet again, especially after it had somehow broken through his last attempt, is a far worse fight than the creature they’d just felled. In a way, Wild thinks it must be, because trying to push it down himself is far more a struggle than simply felling something tangible and mortal that fears it. 

  This time though, there’s a surge of another magic, a familiar one, one that pulses and creeps, seeking, against his own. It recoils, as if by instinct, but still presses back against his magic, not pushing so much as following, and light against crypt like darkness which has him looking up in time to catch the gaze of indigo eyes that have lifted to focus on him, sharp and piercing. 

  Legend’s breath shudders, lips pursing. He knows now. 

  Wild tries, tries so hard, to make his face do something, say anything to indicate that he’s sorry, he’s trying, he really isn’t doing this on purpose. It’s hard though when something warm curls up inside of him. It's not his magic, not the cold death touch he knows and has learned to view as an extension of himself. It’s a steady gleam of warmth, not harsh and burning like Hyrule’s, not fierce and violent like Warriors’, but a gleam of light rather than heat, one that curls around some innermost part of him, like it’s wrapping around his very heart. 

  Legend’s eyes glint curiously, stars blazing within. 

  The vet’s feet step towards him. 

  Hyrule whips around to stare, something on his lips and magic surging, throwing up walls and shields and warnings- protective, wary, guarded, begging. The urgency that flings itself at their vet has the other stumbling slightly, but not stopping. Their traveler looks like he wants to scream, ember gaze trailing between them, panicked, worried, wary. 

  Wild tries not to let it bother him. Hyrule is just worried for their vet, their light, his friend. If Zelda trailed into something he felt was a risk, something that made his senses recoil as violently as his power makes the others do, he’d feel the same way, he knows it. Still, the wariness of his brother isn’t helping anybody right now. 

  “Wild,” the same low, even tone that the man uses to ease Warriors own of his own head rises to play in his ears, “what’s going on?” 

  He opens his mouth to answer, but no words come to mind, just a panic, a wish to assure, to apologize. 

  The warmth curled around his core flickers. Light, pure, unaltered by death-touched power, presses around him. The vet steps closer and then, like stepping before a goddess statue, he feels the surge of his own magic quiet. The rest of the heroes ease, looking about in confusion for the threat they’d felt a moment before but there’s nothing there. Nothing that isn’t twisting and twining, muted by light that itself is dimmed to their senses in an echo of his own quieted power. 

  Hyrule is gaping. 

  Legend is just looking utterly confused, stopping only a pace or so away, ears flicking between a curious forwards tilt and a wary press back against his skull. Violet eyes search his own, flickering golden with power that’s familiar, that’s safe, that’s Hylia’s hand in a gentle caress to quiet his own soul and tame the Wrongness that came back binding him to the body that ought to have perished a hundred years ago. 

  The vet sighs, eyes slipping closed and shoulders sagging with the motion. “The heck, champ...” He doesn’t say anything more though, just raises dark eyes to stare, something crooked in the smile that’s offered to him, tired and weary but bright like the magic that pulls his own inwards again and eases it back where it belongs; nestled beside his heart and twining and twisting, crackling at the edges but not in ire as before. No, he reaches, and despite the twitch of the vet’s brows, the warmth of holy magic answers with a press that his own grasps and clings to. 

  He shouldn’t grab, try to grasp, shouldn’t set off the same ire that Warriors has triggered before, but with the alternate option being to scare the wits out of his brothers, he thinks Legend might understand. 

  “You good?” 

  He nods, and this time he actually means it. “Yeah.” 

  “Good,” Legend shakes his head, that weary little smile still on his face. “Honestly, you guys...” 

  “Sorry.” 

  “I should have seen it coming,” violet glimmer, twinkling oddly as they catch his own, the glow of the shrine still lingering in wild blue. “Just don’t make Wars and Twi lose their shit, ‘kay? I’m not keen on dealing with that again.” 

  He promises he won’t.  

  He doesn’t either. Yes, he trails after the vet as the other moves back to the rest of their group, but he’s wary of leaving the immediate presence of the power that quiets his own. Still, he doesn’t get in the way of their usual post battle arrangement. Doesn’t get in the way when Warriors drapes himself over the smaller hero with a huff, soul still seeking the presence it had felt before but finding naught of the force that surged alongside his own. He doesn’t deny Twilight’s wary check over as the man seeks injury among their group, or Time’s verbal call for them to report on their condition. 

  Injuries are treated, and camp is made. Hyrule’s eyes are burning into the back of his head, gaze confused and magic seeking, pushing, looking for that presence he’d strained so much to contain before, yet finding silence in it’s place. 

  He doesn’t stray far from Legend for the rest of the evening, but by morning, he’s got the courage to risk it, and it’s like he’d never released the terrible creature within to begin with. 

 Even so, all this doesn’t mean that, next time that they make camp, Legend doesn’t have questions. Ringed fingers catching his arm and the vet’s steady voice calling to Time that the two of them will do a quick round of the area to check for threats are his only warning before being dragged out of earshot of their brothers and having an answer demanded of him. Legend has questions, and while he doesn’t have answers for all of them, he does his best to give them. He owes that much after the trouble he’s caused. 

  The vet’s pinch of his brows, tired sigh and sinking shoulders are becoming quite familiar. “So, your magic is death-touched, and you scare the shit out of others with it.” 

  “Yeah.” 

  There’s something between a scoff and a laugh that puffs out from the chest of the other. “Dragons, wolves, fairies, now Death herself, good grief.” 

  “I’m sorry.” He’s not sure why, but he feels he ought to say it. 

  There’s the smile again, Legend’s shoulders shaking and pink hair swishing as he shakes his head once more. “Not your fault, champ. Magic’s screwy, and if there’s anything I'm learning with y’all, controlling it’s always a pain in the arse.” 

  Still, he feels awful for adding to the mess that the vet is already caught in. 

  “Okay,” a clap of the hands and a lifting of glittering stars to focus their light on him, “here’s the deal. Your magic quiets around holy magic. I have holy magic. You need it to shut up, you can come to me, but for the love of all holy, please, I am begging, do not mess with the captain, and whatever your beef with Hyrule is, don’t get me involved, deal?” 

  He blinks. “Deal. I wasn’t...I-” it takes a moment, but the vet waits, although his foot taps the ground as he does, nervous maybe, or just impatient. He can’t tell. “I know better than to mess with the captain,” he finally manages. “Hyrule... we’re working on it.” 

  “Good,” Legend sounds, “but again, I don’t want a part of it. Whatever tiff you two have, settle it yourselves. If you need help with your magic, I’m here, but I don’t stand for funny business, comprendo?” 

  He blinks. 

  The vet rolls his eyes, sighing. “Do you understand?”  

  “Understood.” He wishes people would just speak Hylian to him instead of switching mid conversation. 

  “Good. Now, anything else I should know?” And it’s not harsh, it’s not cold, its’s said with the tilt of the head in a way that almost reminds him of Wolfie in their early days, that same half-amused look in dark eyes as the one that had followed him as he’d acquainted himself with a new world, freshly brought back into it. There’s nothing more to share though. Not for now, but he promises to tell if there’s anything he thinks of. Legend accepts that answer too, nodding and setting out again to continue their patrol. 

  He doesn’t get it, but he supposes that’s not the point. How the vet handles the nonsense they throw at him, he can’t fathom, but that he does at all is a blessing. They may laugh and jest about sharp tongues and scathing remarks, but the vet has the patience of a priestess to handle all of them, and he’s thankful for that. 

  He came back wrong, twisted and death-touched and terrifying to those who don’t understand why he is the way he is. It's not fun to explain and it’s tricky to live with, but at least he has a way to control it, even if it does mean asking for help. Still, he doesn’t hate it. His magic is a tool to terrify and harm the enemy, and he values that tool. He doesn’t cherish it, doesn’t adore how it affects those he cares about, but he’s glad he has it. He's glad he has it and he’s working to understand it, to control it.  

  Maybe having someone who understand these things, who knows magic because he’s steeped in it and has lived with it forever- not just unlocked it in a moment of desperation and without proper guidance to master it- will help. Who knows, maybe he can learn something from the vet, maybe even something help Zelda! That would be nice! Being able to return to her and teach her even just the smallest bit about her own power- help her in the way she’d begged the goddesses for, the way he’d wished he could for all the time he’d spent at her side unable to offer more than protection- it’d be nice. 

  Magic is weird, but maybe, maybe, he can get a handle on his Weirdness. 

  At the very least, he can make it shut up now when he needs to. So that’s a start! 

[ultravioletqueen]

What if it’s not the game that romanticizes incest but it’s incest itself that’s romantic? I mean think about it. They’re just doing their thing and you look at them thinking how romantic they look. That is just the way they are, whether it’s seen as good or bad they won’t just explode for being incestual, their feelings about each other won’t change. And they don’t have to change if that’s what makes them happy. You know, gay people are looked down upon and have health risks from engaging in intercourse, even mentioning that second part is seen as unimaginably rude. People who want to be in a relationship with their siblings are not so different too, but in this case you’re just too prejudiced to see you’re trying to criticize true love.

Ok, there's so much to unpack here

First of all: youre comparing GAY PEOPLE TO INCEST??? The lgtb comunity have nothing in common with people who practice incest, the incest was never something romantic unlike the homosexuality.

The incest was A MEANS TO AN END, not for love but for having "pure blood" children, and even so the incest was no useful because guess what THEIR CHILDREN SUFFERED DEFORMITIES AND SHORT LIVES BECAUSE THEIR PARENTS ADN WERE THE SAME. IT WASN'T ROMANTIC AT ALL AND ONLY CAUSED PAIN TO THOSE KIDS.

The incest is considered inmoral because in actual times the family love is very separate from the romantic one and any functional person would never see their family as something else than that, and if a person has that type of feelings for someone of their family is normally because of MENTAL ILLINESS OR ABUSE, people who where victims of abuse normally suffer it from members of their family and can mistake the codependence with their abuser as love without being in love.

Gay people on the other side ALWAYS been something purely romantic, but couldn't express it because in other times the society was more traditional and didn't accept the idea of two men or two women being together romantically because it didn't was seen as natural by the most conservative sector of society, but the homosexuals (unlike the incestuous people) were not harming anyone! They FIGHTED for their rights in times where they would only be outcasts of society. Their love is valid because is their right to love who they want to love without harm anyone(which, for the record, IS NOT A FAMILY MEMBER).

Second, WHAT LOVE?! What they have is the most toxic, codependent and self destructive relationship i ever seen! But thats the point of the game, seeing bad people like Andrew and Ashley doing bad things, and they destroy eachother and is NOT ROMANTIC AT ALL, its just a toxic pair being a toxic pair, and none of them is truly happy with the other even if they have moments of calm(they're not romantic moments, theyre just rare moments where they can get along), even in the game are moments where they are willing to KILL EACH OTHER, the love dosen't work like that buddy.

Andrew and Ashley are obssesed with each other but thats not love, they only stay together because nobody else would stand them and they harm all the people who is with them(they deserve each other in that sense).

If your vision for true love is a relationship where both parts harm each other and only stays together by fear of being alone then let me tell you that you shouldn't talk about love in first place.

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Worry

ectoberhaunt2023 day 24- science fandom- dp x dc TW- none summary- Sam and Tucker have been trying desperately to locate Danny

ao3 ectoberhaunt masterlist part 6 of SIANT

“Have you found anything yet?” Sam asked, leaning over Tucker's shoulder.

Tucker scowled. “I’ve broken into their system and found a list of facilities. But I don’t know where they’re keeping him.”

“Well work faster!”

“I’m trying! What do you think I’m doing? Do you think I want him to be stuck with those monsters!” 

Sam stepped back, clenching her teeth and breathing, trying to dissipate anger. “No. I’m sorry. I’m just worried.”

Tucker sighed, “We both are. But we need to stay calm. Fighting each other won’t help.”

“I know.”

Sam went over and sat on Tucker’s bed. She hated that there wasn’t anything she could do. They couldn’t even leave town! The GIW had put up surveillance all over town and made it nearly impossible to leave town, all with Mayor Masters approval. 

And Ellie…

Tucker had gotten the notification that her ecto-signature had been spotted near town. They had grown concerned when she didn’t come visit, and Danny wasn’t answering his phone. So, they had decided to track Ellie down.

All they had found was a puddle of green goop and signs that a tire tracks in the grass.

They had gone to Danny’s house after that, frantic and in tears. But Danny wasn’t home and Jazz didn’t know where he was either. With trepidation they checked the lab, but it was empty.

He might be in the Realms, but with the discovery of Ellie… they were worried.

When two days had passed with nothing, they could only assume the worst.

After that, they had focused on finding GIW facilities. Sam had said she’d search the area where they found Illie again but when she tried to leave town she was stopped by the GIW.

Agent O had claimed that residents were required to have a permit in order to leave town, and they had the paperwork to prove it. Sam had stormed off.

She had, of course, tried different ways out of town but each time she had only gone a little bit out of town she was confronted with GIW agents. 

She had finally had to stop when they had threatened to arrest her with no chance for bail if she tried to leave again.

That left them with only Tucker’s hacking skills, and as impressive as they were, it had still taken him several hours to break into the servers and then even longer to find any relevant information. The situation wasn’t helped by the fact that Tucker had to be constantly fighting attempts to get him out of the system, and as soon as he left his computer to sleep or eat he’d have to start from the beginning. And there were only so many energy drinks someone could take before their body forced them to sleep.

It had been a week now. A week where Danny was probably trapped with those monsters. 

He might already be… No. They’d find him, and they’d help him heal from whatever it was they were doing to him.

They’d find him.

They had to.

[they-call-it-traffic]

Piarles and the basketball date photo dump 🏀📷 (A 1K words rough version of how I believe the conversation went):

‘Alright, I think I’ve come up with a nice selection.’

‘Hm... Real nice…’

Charles scoffs and tugs at Pierre’s messy hair that he was mindlessly combing with his free hand. ‘Have a look maybe.’

Pierre groans softly which sends a draft of warm breath on Charles’ abdomen – his chosen pillow since he came back from the bathroom. ‘At what?’ he mumbles.

‘The pics I’m gonna post on Instagram. From yesterday.’

‘Seriously?’ Pierre lifts his head wearily. His eyes are red and gleaming from exhaustion, and at this very moment they’re tinted with indignation. ‘D’you have to do that at seven in the morning?’

‘It’s almost nine. Seven was when you decided to cut my night short. I’m not complaining that you did but don’t whine now because I’m fully awake.’

Charles shrugs, knowing he’s right, then he smiles, sheepish and impish at once. The smile Pierre never resists and often says would allow him to get away with murder and all sins.

Today is no exception. Pierre groans again for good measure, but hauls himself up to slump into one of the pillows propped against the bedhead, resting his chin onto Charles’ shoulder. ‘Let’s see.’

Charles shows him his phone where he’s moved nine pictures – among the hundreds he could choose from – in a separate folder.

For a few seconds, Pierre just stares at the thumbnails, blinking his drowsiness away. But suddenly, he snatches the phone from Charles’ hand with a snort. ‘For real?’

‘What?’

‘You want to post these? All of these? All together?’

‘Yeah... But I'll put this one first.’

‘Oh, all good then. Your fans never swipe right to study every single detail of every single picture.’

Charles scrunches his nose, first at the sarcasm, then in the grip of doubt. ‘Too much of you?’

‘There’s no such thing as too much of me in your life, but... it’s a lot, yes.’

‘And you mind?’

‘No, I don’t. Not at all.’ Pierre laughs and zooms in on his hand inches away from Charles’ crotch on one of the shots from the basketball match they played. ‘I’m just surprised that’s what your photodump is made of after a day spent with NBA stars, friends and family. But I’ll never stop you from making it clear what your priority is and— Wait, no, you can’t post this one.’ He grimaces and hands him back the phone.

Confused, Charles observes the picture taken in the street. ‘Why not? We look cute.’

‘You bet. You’re gazing at me like I’m a three course meal in your favourite restaurant and we’re holding hands!’

‘It’s impossible to tell with our sleeves and the shadow. You only see it because you know.’

‘I see it because it’s right there to be spotted.’ Pierre smiles and presses a kiss where Charles’ dimple would be if he weren’t pouting. ‘Don’t underestimate the photo enhancement skills of your followers.’

‘Fine... I’ll post the other one. But Illies is on it. I’ll crop him out.’

Pierre chuckles and slides his lips along Charles’ cheek to reach the spot below his ear. ‘How will you caption this? “And later on, we wrecked the bed”?’

‘No…’ Charles drops his phone onto his lap and tilts his head to give him better access to his skin.

‘What about “We played with balls all day and then again all night”?’

‘I think I’ll go for “He’s a dumbass but he makes my heart bounce”.’

Pierre pulls away to meet his eyes with an exaggerated swooning gasp that Charles muffles with the palm of his hand. So Pierre brushes it with his tongue, which sends shivers coursing through Charles’ entire body.

‘I'll go for something safe,’ he sighs, closing his eyes. ‘Like it was fun but I should stick to F1.’

‘Lame…’ Pierre whispers, his teeth nibbling Charles’ forefinger.

‘I’d like to post a reel too. There’s so much great footage.’

‘Yeah? Let’s create some more.’ Pierre collects Charles’ phone with a devilish grin and unlocks it with the pin – the date of their first kiss.

‘Some more?’

‘The content they truly deserve.’

Pierre opens the camera on selfie mode, starts recording a video and stretches his arm up in order to frame them both.

‘What are you doing?’ Charles chortles, trying and failing at swating his hand aside.

‘I’m doing you. I’m doing Charles Leclerc, ladies and gentlemen.’

Pierre shifts to straddle him and parts his lips with his tongue before Charles can think of protesting again. So he gives in to the lustful kiss, gripping Pierre's hips to pull him closer.

But after half a minute of licks, bites and intense rubbing, sensing he’s about to lose his ability to think rationally, Charles shakes his head gently.

‘Enough now,’ he pants against Pierre’s chin. ‘Delete it.’

‘Why?’ Pierre drops his arm and stops the recording. ‘Don’t you want to keep it for when you’ll desperately miss me?’

‘I don’t trust myself. I could upload it by mistake. Or out of sheer frustration when it drives me completely insane to keep us in the closet.’

In a second, Pierre’s playful expression morphes into a surprised concerned one. He hastens to delete the video, tosses the phone aside and cradles Charles’ face to caress it with his thumb.

‘I’ve been joking all along, but… Is that what this is about? Are you— Do you want us to start having this conversation…?’

Charles worries at his bottom lip for a few beats, then he smiles, resigned, leaning into Pierre’s touch. ‘No… Not really. Not now. It would distract us to deal with the massive deal everybody would make of it, and we can’t afford to be distracted. I really mean that,’ he adds, more confident, because Pierre looks relieved but a bit guilty to be. ‘I just have moments every now and then, but when I weigh the pros and cons, I think it’d be more damaging than anything. We’ve made this work long enough and it… it’s working pretty well.’

‘Pretty well?’ Pierre repeats with a hint of a teasing smile.

‘Mind-blowingly well,’ Charles rectifies, tangling his fingers in Pierre’s hair and gliding against the pillow to lie down under his body. ‘So let’s just rehearse again for that reel we’ll never post.’

‘Sounds good,’ Pierre murmurs in the crook of his neck, sinking between Charles’ legs. ‘Captioned “The one sport we always win at”.’

‘Together…’

[technicalgator]

Couple’a doodles of @mxboxlocks ‘s HC designs of Solly an’ Engie (+ my HC Engie design in the second one X]). I lorb these guys sm they’re are so illy to me hEHEHEHE 💖✨

-

Also a wip of my HC Soldier design in the works! 🪖

I love men <3

[pepsicoughdrops]

Everyone say hi to the baby ^_^ been thinking about future cryptid posse stuff lately…

She’s been in my head for a good couple years now but i never really settled on anything until recently :)

Penny is lowkey an impulsive decision at first, Mokji brings up having a baby one night when Eddie’s about 36 and Eddie isn’t really on board at all because this was coming completely out of nowhere to him (also the fact Eddie’s job isn’t the safest in the world for raising a baby around) and it ends with them getting in a decent argument and Mokji locking himself in the bathroom while Eddie goes across the hall to talk to Mot about things :/

Eventually they talk about it (more so Eddie has to coax Mokji to talk about it instead of just letting him dance around the subject) and after lots of talking and legal stuff and paperwork Penny is had when Eddie is at least 42 ^_^

For the Phemie doodle at this point in the timeline her and Mokji (and the other gods like Illy, Salvi, & Huni) are all cordial with each other, i don’t think the other three (Phemie, Salvi, Huni) really see Mokji often considering they aren’t exactly friendly with him but i’m sure they visit once or twice after they learn news of the baby. Phemie isn’t super interested in her or babies in general, all her would be “motherly instinct” as the goddess of nature were zapped from her after having to basically raise the boys all on her own and teach them how to be gods :/ she still congratulates Mokji nonetheless, again they’re cordial at this point (albeit a little awkward)

(click for better quality)

[iamvegorott]

Now I can’t help but try to think of what it would say to them. Let’s start with Yancy, shall we?

Entity: Do you remember how it felt? Killing those second hand parents? For once, you felt control. You could feel that again.

Yancy: *turns around in bed as if they’re not there*

Entity: You cannot ignore us.

Yancy: Try me. Ma said ya were trouble. I want nothin’ to do with youse.

Entity: That being is a liar. Lies through her teeth. Ask about the attorney.

Yancy: Yeah, he told me all that. Beats himself up for it all the time.

Entity: Or so he tells you. She gave you up. Abandoned you.

Yancy: I don’t blame her for that anymore. She’s did what she had to.

Entity: By giving you to a neglectful father and overbearing mother? By making you feel as if you had to kill them to escape? Is that love? Is that kindness?!

Yancy: She didn’t know!

Entity: Nor did she care, it seems.

Yancy: You’s a liar and you can go fuck yourself! Whatever you’re sellin’, I don’t want it.

Entity: Not even a loving future with your dear Illy?

Yancy: I already got that covered, alright? Now, fuck off and leave him outta this.

Entity: Don’t you wish he were here, in your arms? Not at the beckon call of the next adventure?

Yancy: It’s part of his job. I ain’t making him stop that.

Entity: But you seem so lonely. You both could sing in perfect harmony. Always together. A lovely duet. He wouldn’t have to give up his dreams, nor you yours. You two could be inseparable, in control.

Bad entity! Bad!

I'm getting the spray bottle!

[forabeatofadrum]

Ljubim te (16/24)

Notes: Hey folks, I am back and I have some news. I have actually written almost all of the fic. Yes, I have finished chapter 16 up to 23 (🤯). I am almost at the end. I haven’t started chapter 24 yet, but all in good time, you know? The reason I hadn’t posted any of 16 - 23 yet is because I finished chapter 16 just now, so I obviously couldn’t post the others.

But now I can, so I will! A part of me considered posting it all in one go, since I am very excited to share it, but that is a bit much, so I have decided to post a new chapter every day.

Apart from that, I have also started writing a side-story from Quinn’s POV. It’s not finished yet and it’s longer than I expected, but it’s fun. Anyway, thanks for sticking around and enjoy reading.

AO3 | S&C  

–

MAINTAIN

Kurt doesn’t mean to torture himself, but he is. Why else would he be obsessed with the Instagram of one certain Quinn Fabray?

Kurt and Quinn never befriended each other on social media, because why would they? But Kurt’s befriended Blaine, and when Quinn suddenly popped up in the “Friends you might know” list, he should’ve closed the app, but he didn’t.

Blaine might not be super active on social media, but apparently Quinn is.

And unlike Blaine, she is posting about her trip.

Blaine isn’t in any photos, since they’re mostly aesthetic photos of food, buildings and landscapes, but it’s another confirmation that she is in the country.

--

Kurt needs to get out of the city.

A part of him thinks about going to London a month earlier than planned, but he’s not sure if Adam would appreciate that. It might also be questionable of Kurt to seek out his ex when he’s trying to flee from his new crush and his girlfriend. He and Adam are fine, which is why Kurt is going, but it feels wrong.

He doesn’t really have a lot of trips planned. When he first got to Ljubljana, he knew that he could travel throughout Europe, like André, but he decided that he had time to figure it out, but now it’s April and he’s halfway through his time here.

Fuck, Kurt misses his friends from home. He misses his dad. He talks to them a lot through text and he calls, but it is different. He knew he signed up for this and he knew it would only be for six months, but now he’s lonely.

He misses Blaine.

Blaine became his person in Ljubljana.

Of course he has Sunil and Tadeja. He also has people from his classes and from his play, and the International Student Organisation hosts a lot of events. Kurt’s also gone to the gay scene in Metelkova a few times and he’s met really cool people there as well.

Kurt isn’t alone, but he is lonely.

All of those people are here, and yet they can’t hold a candle to Blaine, which is pathetic.

--

The day after, Sunil and Kurt are on a train to Trieste. It’s a city in Italy, close to the border of Slovenia. Kurt’s already taken the bus to Zagreb but it’s still mindboggling that he can just take public transport into another country. This train even continues to Austria!

Kurt’s been wanting to see Trieste for a while. He had sort of planned on going here with Blaine, since he once told Blaine that he wanted to see the city, but of course, that plan fell through. Instead, Sunil is accompanying him.

When Kurt asked Sunil if he were down for a last minute trip to Italy, Sunil yelled “Fuck yeah!” and that was that.

The trip isn’t that long and the next thing Kurt knows, he’s in fucking Italy.

Kurt and Sunil try to see the biggest sights. They go to the beautiful piazza’s and cathedrals. Kurt isn’t religious and Sunil is Buddhist, but the church did go big with the aesthetics and they can appreciate that. There’s also a castle just outside of the city centre and there is a gorgeous pier, since Trieste lies at the coast.

And there’s coffee! There is a lot of good coffee.

“The owners of the coffee brand Illy are from here,” Sunil reads from his phone and Kurt thinks he might’ve found heaven. They stop by at multiple caffetteria’s, as they’re called in Italian.

Kurt’s having a great day and sure, it does sting a bit that Blaine isn’t here, because the two of them have talked about going to Trieste, but it is what it is.

--

The next day, Kurt knocks on Sunil’s door to ask if they can have breakfast in the city together.

And after classes, he texts Sunil to meet up in town to hang out at the Ljubljana river.

In the evening, he wonders if Sunil wants to grab some Boni together.

Kurt thinks he’s being such a great friend, but Sunil sets him straight.

“Look, Kurt, I’m flattered that you want to spend so much time with me, but you need to stop and think for a second,” Sunil says.

Kurt raises an eyebrow.

“We’re friends. Boni buddies and all that jazz. I like hanging out with you, but at this point I think you’re just using me to replace Blaine,” Sunil adds on.

Kurt wants to protests and tell Sunil that he is definitely wrong, but the words get stuck in his throat, because he knows that Sunil is right.

“And quite frankly, I don’t like that,” Sunil continues and Kurt feels like an ass, “I want you to hang out with me because you like me. We’re friends. I don’t want to be second best. You’re always with Blaine, sometimes even ditching me for him, and the moment he’s out of the picture, you come crawling back to me. How am I supposed to feel?”

“Sunil… I am so sorry,” Kurt says, but those words fall flat. Sunil looks really hurt. “I do like hanging out with you. I do think we’re friends and I hope to maintain that friendship even after we both go home to our own countries. But you’re right. I miss Blaine.”

“You’re forgiven,” Sunil says earnestly, “It is really crappy of Blaine to do this to you, so I get it. I just wanted to set things straight and make it clear to you.”

“Thanks. And it is crappy.”

“Won’t you see him at the game?” Sunil asks, “Maybe you can talk it out.”

“What game?”

“The rugby game,” Sunil answers.

Right. Kurt had completely forgotten about that. He, Sunil, Blaine and Quinn have tickets for a game.

“I don’t think he wants to talk,” Kurt says back, “I don’t think I should go.”

“Oh, I am definitely going,” Sunil says.

Kurt raises an eyebrow.

“Isn’t he ghosting you as well?”

Sunil nods.

“Yes, but I like rugby.”

Kurt understands what Sunil is saying, but he still thinks it’s not a good idea. Kurt also wants answers, but cornering Blaine at a public rugby game while his girlfriend is around isn’t a great idea. And he really believes that Blaine isn’t going to talk.

Blaine needs to come to Kurt. Trying to reach Blaine will only backfire.

It sucks, but it’s the truth.

“Does Tadeja like rugby?” Kurt asks.

“I don’t know. Why?”

“She should get my ticket.”

“Kurt-”

Kurt holds up his hand to silence Sunil.

“She can have my ticket. Make it a double date.”

It physically hurts to suggest that, but it’s what it is.

“… Okay.”

“Cool, I’ll e-mail it to you.”

“Right.”

“Then, I’ll just be off-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Sunil exclaims, “What about the Boni?”

“You still want to get Boni?” Kurt asks.

Sunil looks amused.

“Of course. As I said, I needed to set things straight. You want to get Boni with me because we’re friends, and not because I am a substitute for Blaine, right?”

“Definitely!” Kurt says, and he means it. Sunil was right. Kurt did use him. But it’s a good thing Sunil called him out, because now Kurt’s aware of it and he can fully focus on just chilling with Sunil. “I’m craving Asian food.”

“Roza Slon or Bistro Suwon?”

“Let’s get fancy!”

“Suwon it is,” Sunil says, “Lead the way.”

--

End notes: Unlike Kurt, I didn’t go to Trieste. I wanted to, and I planned on it, but I had a pandemic. Italy was completely off-guard in the first half of 2020. There was a trip in February, but I didn’t go, because it was very early and I was still getting used to Slovenia. I thought it was fine because I thought I had time. Ah well.

Roza Slon is a Thai place and Bistro Suwon is a Korean restaurant. Roza Slon was actually my last Boni, unknowingly. The day after, I found out that the Boni period had ended. Bistro Suwon didn’t reopen after the first wave, so I was under the impression Covid killed it (like it killed Falafel Hiša and Grill no.12, forever in my heart). I have lamented over the closing of Bistro Suwon for years, but guess what, IT DIDN’T CLOSE! I only just found out while looking it up for this chapter. Hooray!

[doueverwonder]

Do you have any Calilliyork HCs?? :]

anon the way I started vibrating when I saw this ask:

they’re the only ones allowed to use ‘city nicknames’ with each other. Particularly NY calling Illi “Chi” (said shy) and Cali “Angel”

u know the “are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns??” incorrect quote? Yeah that’s Illi & Cali at NY literally everyday.

California: who needs ac when u can sandwich yourself between your cold bfs

Illinois & New York: who needs heating when u can cuddle your hot (in both ways) partner

idk why but I think when they go on dates they purposefully avoid going to NYC, LA or Chicago.

IlliYork was together for a long time before they started dating Cali too, and sometimes they'll talk about dates they had before and whenever California thinks one sounds particularly cool or romantic they're both like "write that down, write that down-" and will do their darndest to recreate them in the name of "all the times you should have been there"

very headcanony but i'm a transfem nb Cali truther (she/it/they bc projecting), and they were already dating when it had her Great Gender Panic(TM).

The way Illi & York found out is one of them said smth along the lines of "love you forever" just like in passing and California randomly broke into tears like "really??? you'll love me forever?? no matter what??? you're sure?????" and they both obviously were like "?? yes ofc??? is something wrong??? wtf???"

bc NY is decently older than California and Illinois there are running jokes that he's their sugar daddy and it isn't completely* untrue.

(*only not completely true bc California is technically the richest of the three lmao)

speaking of tho; everyone assumes NY is like the least affectionate/committed to their relationship bc he's so cold and 'i don't like anyone' around everyone else. but they just miss that this man spends every waking moment not fighting with the rest of the Northeast making heart eyes at them <3

& he just loves to spoil them both rotten, like genuinely they both have to be so careful about mentioning wanting anything around him bc he WILL get it for them.

also for example they're all theatre nerds but he'll take them to any play, musical, ballet, or opera they express even mild interest in. Best seats in the house, and we might as well go to dinner beforehand, and NY just loves seeing them both all dressed up so we need to go somewhere nice for dinner. It just snowballs and he is not beating the sugar daddy allegations.

He's not doing it on purpose he just likes seeing them both happy and buying them things and taking them places is the best way he can figure it out 😭

NY: I'm this close to fighting Gov so he'll let me marry both of you. Illi & Cali: ? your fingers are touching. NY: I know.

90% of their communication problems can actually be traced back to Illinois. this man is a Midwesterner at heart and thus will never speak his mind on the fear that it might upset them even if its over like.... what pizza toppings they should get. They're working on it but oh boy.

(whole lot of "Illi what do you want," "oh y'know I'm fine with whatever--" "No, we can tell you're not. What do you want?")

Illinois speaks French, and California speaks Spanish, and NY is weak.

this got long so i'll leave it there. if anyone wants elaboration on any of these feel free to ask 👀

[thomothysdoodles]

So! Ivy stems from the Unus Annus video where Mark and Ethan painted each other as villains if I remember correctly. Disc currently has No Version of Ivy, so mine is considered kind of just The Ivy at the moment. His real name is Paris, but considering his… predicament of being a fine mix of plants, being able to control plants, basically just being a human/plant hybrid and his special interest in all things plants, he likes to be called Ivy. He does have a close friend that Disc made if you’d like to learn more— the Ethan ego from that video. You should go ask them!

Anyways! Ivy currently has Disc’s Illinois (Illo) wrapped around their finger. This is because Illi introduced Illo to him, and they kind of hit it off. Illo comes from Another Dimension, thanks to Illi and him doing stupid things. Another story for another time XD Anyways, Illi and Illo are pretty close, but they don’t look anywhere near the same unless they’re really trying or people only know the general descriptions of their outfits. I they’re confirmed on the universal scale to be… kind of equivalents in the dimensions, but they are /not/ each other. I note this heavily, since Illi, Ivy, and Farm (Farmiplier) are all cousins. Illo has Ozzy (Heistiplier) as a cousin.

Sorry that I’m kind of rambling, there’s just a lot. Is there anything more you’d like to know about? Any au, or specifics of characters?

How’ve you been?

ooooh illy and illo’s differences are so cool, i love the idea of other dimension versions! what are their differences?

and i’ve been good thanks!