time and warriors. reader is significantly taller than the chain (they are at hip height). no pronouns used (you/your). non-graphic mentions of blood. can be read as romantic or platonic. time and warriors teasing reader. 700 words.
The hiss that echos through the streets is more than enough to pull the Links away from the shopkeep's wares to where you stood just outside the small building.
The Link who had kept your attention off the doorframe and on him, Warriors, was quick to pull you down to his height by the elbow and sit you down.
"I called door, didn't I?" He lets out a quiet huff while gently coaxing your hand away from the flowering bruise across the bridge of your nose. The frown on his face deepens upon seeing a trail of blood already falling down your lips and to your chin. "You didn't hear me?"
"In my defense," you swallow, voice already taking on a nasally tone. Your eyes were screwed closed, doing your best to ignore that pain by focusing on his voice. "You were late and didn't bother making it any clearer."
Even if you couldn't see him, you could imagine the way he rose his brow. "Oh really?"
You hum to the best of your ability, flinching away when the vibrations of it shift your nose too much for your liking. "Really," you sigh back, lips pulling back into a sneer when Warriors taps your nose as though a ghost. "Your— stop— story about the barracks was too engaging for my own good."
He laughs, pulling his hands away when feather-light footsteps approach. Based on the way they were accompanied by the purposeful shifting of armor, you know it's Time with a red potion already in hand.
Warriors steps around so he's instead at your side. His hands reach out so they're just shy of your biceps. "It's nothing too bad," he relays, voice airy as he reaches a hand up to your shoulder blades, nudging you forward so Time could better reach you. "I've seen children with worse injuries."
Time sucks his tongue. "Again?"
"Not again," you scoff, flinching again when the vibrations reaches your nose again. Time is quick to grab your chin and tilt your head back, pressing the mouth of the bottle to your lip. "The roof is too tall. All the others have been stomach-height."
"You're a giant!" Warriors' hand pats your arm comfortingly. He wipes away droplets of blood and water with his glove, grinning while rising to his toes. "You're as tall— if not taller— than the Gerudo! You can't blame the constructors for not taking that into account."
You lower your head when Time releases your chin, eyes slowly prying open when the pain starts to subside. He waits for the bruise to fade into your natural skin tone before reaching a hand around the back of your neck to pull you closer.
"Go easy now," he chides, failing to hide to teasing lilt in his voice. His voice lowers into a murmur the closer the less distance there is between the two of you. "Surely it's no easy labor having to be in a world made for dwarves."
Time presses a kiss to your forehead to hide his chuckle, pulling away and running his tongue over his when the foreign word leaves a strange feeling in his mouth.
Lifting your hand and nudging Time away with a finger, Warriors is quick to take it into with both of his and press several more to each of your finger tips. "It makes me wonder what all else if different where you're from. Do kisses make you feel any better?"
You're quick to swat him away, forcing yourself onto your feet while ducking. "I'm going to find the others. I'm sure the others would find my pain less amusing than you both."
Time lets out a quiet hum, hand raising to tap against your thigh as you pass him. "Have Legend or Hyrule take a look." He tucks a small pouch full of rupees into the lace of your shoe before it leaves his range. "Our apologies," he adds.
It takes you a moment to realize what he had done, to focused on not hitting your head on the doorframe again. When you're finally clear, you take the bag from your shoe and feel the rupees between your fingers.
"Apology accepted, I suppose."
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You opening your notifs rn
IT ONLY LOADS ONE OF UR SPAMS WHY DID U DO THIS
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the funniest part of any Robin meeting the JL is that every Robin is so distinctly different from the previous one in terms of personality and vibes that the league literally gets backlash. and like, I don't blame them. not to mention that they are non-meta children that dress as a traffic light and fight crime alongside batman in gotham on a nightly basis. i'd also be a bit concerned.
Batman, literally The Night of Gotham personified in the League's eyes, coming into a JL meeting: This is Robin, my crime-fighting partner.
11-year-old Dick Grayson, dressed in the brightest primary colours possible, vaguely hidden murder behind those eyes, never stops moving even for a moment: Hi!
Superman: That's a child. That's-- Bats that is a child. You let a child--?
Batman, deadpan: You try to stop him. Would you rather he try and murder a grown man with a wire?
Batman: This is Robin.
12-year-old Jason Todd, with the biggest grin on his face, about 3 books in his hand, stars in his eyes and a distinct street-kid drawl: Hey!!!
Green Lantern: That's ... that's a different child. What??
Jason: I stole his tires :)
Batman: Tried to.
Jason, stage whispering to the League: basically did.
Green Lantern: that is a different kid, right?? I'm not seeing shit??
Batman: This is Robin.
14-year-old Tim Drake, bo staff clutched in his hand, a wary and tired expression on his face, more on the quiet side, the literal walking definition of don't judge a book by it's cover: hello
Flash: Where do you even find these--
Tim: I found myself.
Batman: This is Robin.
17-year-old Stephanie Brown, literally blonde, with a shit-eating grin, eyes full of nothing but mischief and the most explosive personality you've ever seen: hiya!!
Superman: I give up.
Stephanie: I know, I have that amazing effect on people.
Batman: This is Robin.
13-year-old Damian Wayne, a literal wet cat that will hiss at you, has a sword, the most judgemental stare you'll get from a teenager, ready to jump anyone there:
Green Lantern: WHY DOES HE HAVE A SWORD?!
Batman: ... he came with the sword.
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One of my biggest nitpicks in fiction concerns the feeding of babies. Mothers dying during/shortly after childbirth or the baby being separated form the mother shortly after birth is pretty common in fiction. It is/was also common enough in real life, which is why I think a lot of writers/readers don't think too hard about this. however. Historically, the only reason the vast majority of babies survived being separated from their mother was because there was at least one other woman around to breastfeed them. Before modern formula, yes, people did use other substitutes, but they were rarely, if ever, nutritionally sufficient.
Newborns can't eat adult food. They can't really survive on animal milk. If your story takes place in a world before/without formula, a baby separated from its mother is going to either be nursed by someone else, or starve.
It doesn't have to be a huge plot point, but idk at least don't explicitly describe the situation as excluding the possibility of a wetnurse. "The father or the great grandmother or the neighbor man or the older sibling took and raised the baby completely alone in a cave for a year." Nope. That baby is dead I'm sorry. "The baby was kidnapped shortly after birth by a wizard and hidden away in a secret tower" um quick question was the wizard lactating? "The mother refused to see or touch her child after birth so the baby was left to the care of the ailing grandfather" the grandfather who made the necessary arrangements with women in the neighborhood, right? right? OR THAT GREAT OFFENDER "A newborn baby was left on the doorstep and they brought it in and took care of it no issues" What Are You Going to Feed That Baby. Hello?
Like. It's not impossible, but arrangements are going to have to be made. There are some logistics.
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