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kiaxet · 8 months

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HOW ABOUT THAT @somerandomdudelmao DISASTER TWIN REUNION, HUH

Went a little feral to the tune of 2.2K words of self-indulgence. What else is new?

~~~~~~~

Donnie can't sleep. More accurately, he won't sleep. Not until he's done. He'd never been one to leave a project unfinished; death and resurrection hadn't changed that.

He taps incessantly, repetitively, on a keyboard and screen, the motions long since past inputting data and now only serving to keep him awake. The repetition is soothing, easy, and - counterintuitively - he finds his head drooping forward into sleep-

And he snaps back upright. No. Not until he can confirm Leo is okay.

Leo is behind him, he knows. Breathing. In bed. Asleep. Very much alive. And-

He jumps and whips around as a thud sounds behind him. "What the-"

Leo is on the floor.

Well, that answers the question as to whether his twin is awake.

For a fraction of a second, part of him wavers uncertainly. He loves his idiot twin. The question he hasn't been able to answer is whether his reaction to Leo waking up will fall on love or idiot twin-

"Leo!"

He can hear the exasperation in his voice, and yep, it's the latter. He takes a knee next to Leo and hauls him into his arms, lecturing him all the while, and if he can hear the annoyance in his voice then Leo sure as hell can. Sleep deprivation for the purposes of keeping his brother's soul alight had done nothing for his temper. "I swear to God, all you had to do was make a sound! Why are you such a difficult patient?"

He deposits Leo carefully on the bed - "Sit still!" - and checks him over, running every scan he can think of and making sure his brother's new body really is in good working order, spouting increasingly irritated commentary all the while. Of course the fall didn't hurt him - Leo is tougher than that, and Donnie does better work than that - but he still can't help the rising anxiety in his throat.

This almost didn't happen.

"-stupid, stupid selfless idiot!"

Donnie almost couldn't save him.

"Grrhh-"

Leo nearly died for real. Permanently beyond Donnie's reach. Well and truly gone-

"Do you have any idea how close you were to having nothing left to save?"

And now here Leo is, in perfect health, sitting on Donnie's bed with a big dopey grin on his face as Donnie chokes on his anxiety and damn near shakes himself apart-

Oh for fuck's sake.

"Hey. Are you even listening?"

Leo speaks up for the first time since he's woken up, voice shaky from disuse. "D-Donnie?"

And that is not a goddamn answer to anything Donnie has been saying, because of course it isn't. It's Leo. He's always had his own priorities. "Yeah. No. You're not fucking listening." Donnie heaves a long-suffering sigh, sinking back into the routine comfort that irritation at his twin provides. "At least you're talking." Small favors. "Although I'm surprised you're not throwing your stupid jokes at me." Even smaller favors.

He stops short as Leo's hand closes around his wrist, drawing Donnie's arm to Leo's plastron. "You're real," his brother breathes, looking from Donnie's hand to Donnie himself with tears streaming down his face. "You're real!"

And then, in the space of a thought, Leo's joy breaks, his smile turning desperate. "Are you?"

For a moment, Donnie stares at his twin, wondering at the sudden change in expression. He takes a breath-

And the part of him that had lain dormant for so long after he'd woken up - the part of him that had been screaming for his twin's safety ever since they'd recovered the few scattered embers of Leo's soul - gasps to life, blooming like a time-lapse video of a flower and reaching to the edges of Donnie's soul. Leo had called it their twin sense, and Donnie hadn't had it in him to argue after a while. Whatever it is, it's back, connected to Leo's renewed presence, and-

Donnie's heart floods with emotions. Relief and joy sprout quickly and are nearly swept away in a tide of exhaustionanxietyfearfearfearfearFEAR-

But down beneath it all, steady against the rising wall of terror, is the little blue spark of hope that his brother always carried. His core. The thing that let him continue on in the face of insurmountable odds, and lent that same strength to everyone around him. A ninja's greatest weapon.

It's Leo. It's Leo-

And Donnie can't leave him alone in his fear. Not when there's no need for it. Not when they're safe.

He lets that breath out, and sits next to Leo on the bed. "Mhm. I'm alive. And you're alive. We're safe. The Krang are gone." That's all the news that's fit to print, or at least the most important parts. What else does he have to say?

Oh.

"I'm sorry I..uh…"

He's sorry he what? Died? Left a mess for Leo to deal with? Didn't do enough while he was alive to keep everyone else alive in turn after he was gone? Kept his brother's soul in a fucking mug, because that was the only way he could ensure he wouldn't break it while Leo was still fragile? All of the above?

…yeah, it's all of the above.

He owes Leo one hell of an apology, and he's never been good at any of this, so instead he shrugs haplessly and leans forward, pulling Leo into his arms and hanging on tight.

It's a matter of moments before Leo has him flat on his shell on the bed and is sobbing into his arms. Normally he'd hate seeing his twin cry, but it's proof of life - proof that Leo made it, that his soul is intact enough for him to still be Leo, that he's alive and awake and here - and Donnie will take it.

And if he's squeezing Leo back pretty hard himself, well, that's fine too. Nobody else needs to know.

~~~~~~~

Donnie is yelling at him.

Donnie is strong enough to have picked Leo up off the ground, well enough to be on his feet without support, running tests and reading Leo the riot act over his latest boneheaded maneuver - in this case, forgetting he was missing an arm and falling out of bed.

Donnie is yelling at him, because Donnie is here to yell at him.

And Leo is smiling, because he couldn't be happier. He lets the words wash over him, draping over his shoulders like a favorite cozy blanket that he'd lost so many years ago, and he basks in the warmth that is his brother's voice and smiles.

It's enough to interrupt the yelling for a question, though he doesn't really hear it - just keeps smiling, and says Donnie's name, and it's so nice to be able to say it with a smile now, because Donnie is here-

-he is, right? This isn't just a dying hallucination on Leo's part, right?

(It couldn't be- he remembers his death, remembers breathing his last, remembers being trapped- but this-)

He reaches out, taking Donnie's wrist in hand, and pulls his brother closer to him. "You're…real…" It certainly feels real - skin and scales, softer than his own, and his fingers barely fit all the way around the wrist instead of encircling them with room to spare - and he stares down at it, tears rolling down his face as he finally looks back up at his twin. "You're real!"

The Krang show you what you want to see.

The thought strikes him unbidden, turning his joy and relief to ice. It's a well-known fact: a Krang infection can show its host what they want to see, visions of comfort and family and home, and extract intel from the host's reactions. He knows that- he knows that, and-

And he'd died surrounded by Krang- and even if he couldn't see or hear or feel, he knows he'd been held captive-

But it's Donnie- he wants this to be real- he needs this to be real- he wants his twin back so badly he can't think, and the idea that this could be a Krang hallucination is almost too much to bear-

"Are you?" He can hear how choked the words are as they leave his lips, but he needs to know-

And Donnie stops, and sits down next to him, and tells him everything he wants to hear - everything he could've ever wished for. They're alive. They're safe. The Krang are gone. It all sounds too good to be true.

And then Donnie offers him an apology and a sad half-smile, pulling him into a strong hug-

And the ice in Leo's mind shatters in a flood of warmth as his twin sense opens for the first time since Donnie's death. He feels his twin's irritation, and deep-seated exhaustion, and a choking wave of guiltguiltguiltguiltguilt-

And beneath it all, steady and strong as ever, the thrum of unending determination, powered by an unfathomably deep well of love. It's the backbeat to the melody of Leo's life, the point-counterpoint to his own heartbeat- it's something he'd never had to live without until he did, but it's back, rushing in to fill the silence he'd known with the strength to go on and the knowledge that he is loved loved loved, strong and overwhelming and all-encompassing in the way only Donnie can love-

It's something the Krang could never imitate.

This is real. This is all real-

He throws himself against his twin, toppling them both over on the bed as he clings to Donnie, unable to stand even a fraction of an inch of space between them, as though he could push their hearts together through their plastrons, and he cries, sobbing out worry and terror and grief and the slow, crushing exhaustion of a losing battle finally lost. He cries as though the world was ending - and it had, once when the Krang had invaded and again every time he'd lost a member of his family, over and over until he'd sent his last hope through a portal that had cost his littlest brother his life and succumbed to death himself.

And now he's alive. Here, wherever here is, with Donnie. Clinging to his twin, and being held in turn as Donnie gently sits them both up, never letting go as Leo cries himself out.

It takes a while - long enough for Leo's gaze to settle into a stare and his thoughts to settle into a comfortable static. He's alive, Donnie is alive, and he has no fucking idea what else is going on, but he's just going to be okay with that for now.

His thoughts rouse enough to inform him of something wrong - the line of tension Donnie is carrying down his neck and over his shoulders. That won't do. Leo could try to massage it out with one hand, maybe try to get Donnie to talk about it, but Donnie never likes to talk about it, and Leo isn't one for slowly soothing away tension when he can just take an axe to the release valve instead. Plus, it gives him something definite to focus on, instead of…this whole situation. Whatever 'this whole situation' actually is.

Donnie had mentioned his stupid jokes, right?

"H-hey Dee?" His voice wavers from disuse, thick with tears, but he pushes through. "Why did- why did the tree buy a camera?"

"What?" Oh, Donnie is not going to see this coming. Excellent.

"To do a photosynthesis." It's nowhere near the level of pizazz he normally uses for a punchline delivery - he's still too tired and frazzled and clinging to Donnie entirely too hard for that - but that beautiful pause of a terrible joke sinking in tells him it had hit home nonetheless. Donnie moves - he can hear the telltale slap of face meeting palm - and then breaks down into helpless laughter, smacking the back of Leo's shell as the tension Leo had felt in his twin's shoulders abruptly relaxes. Good. It worked.

"This is so fucking stupid," is all Donnie manages as his laughter fades, and he slumps fully against Leo with a murmur. That's...abrupt. Sure, Leo had felt Donnie's exhaustion, but he hadn't realized it'd been that bad. He takes hold of Donnie, gently laying him down on the bed to rest-

Remember what happened last time Donnie fell asleep next to you.

He gasps sharply at the thought - not again NEVER again - and keeps his hand steady as he moves, laying both fingers gently against Donnie's neck and feeling for his pulse. It's easy to find, strong and steady and even, like it had been before the infection had taken Donnie's vitality and then his life.

But he's alive, and healthy, and sleeping. He's okay. And Leo-

Leo moves his hand to the side of his own neck. His pulse is also easy to find, quickened with the adrenaline of an unknown situation and multiple consecutive shocks to his system.

Okay. Take stock. Assess. Figure out a plan from there.

He's alive. Donnie's alive. The Krang are gone. And everything else…is a big fat question mark, with no easy answers and no indication as to where to begin looking for them.

Well.

Uh.

"What the fuck," Leo whispers to the room at large, as though the walls could answer.

~~~~~~~

(A world away and still very close, a younger pair of twins cling to one another the way a drowning man clings to driftwood: desperately, clutching tight, as though letting go will spell their doom. Neither of them know where the emotions came from, or why; all they know is that each of them are damn glad the other is alive, and they'll do everything they can to make sure that continues to be the case.)

(What the fuck, indeed.)

#rottmnt #cass apocalyptic series #future leo #future donnie #fic #writing #cw sibling death #mention of it at least #referencing the scrapped movie storyboards because it's too good a beat to pass up #we have fun here #no gods no betas we die like NOBODY BECAUSE DONNIE FUCKING FIXED IT #I GUESS #twin sense shit is my FUCKING JAM #inexplicable mystic bonds between two halves of a whole? sign me the FUCK up #I couldn't decide whose POV to write this from so I just did both #which is WHY it's 2K+ words #it's not perfect but it's Good Enough and therefore it's getting posted #fuck it we ball

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meteors-lotr · 4 months

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Thorin cooks Bilbo a meal as a type of thank you for the help and he refuses to take any gold or anything but the lad really loves food so let’s give him that, and he presents it to Bilbo all excited but Bilbo doesn’t eat anything he just stares at like the three course meal that’s in front of him and Thorin gets super nervous because oh no is it bad I’m so sorry Bombur prepped me for like a month for this don’t hobbits eat everything did I somehow manage to cook something that even a hobbit won’t consume oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck but Bilbo isn’t even noticing his panic because his brain is trying to catch up to the fact that Thorin just proposed to him

#I live for cultural misunderstandings in fics between these two #but I’ve seen a lot about Bilbo accidentally doing something romantic to dwarves but not a lot of Thorin doing it to Bilbo #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #bagginshield #Thilbo

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thesoftestmess · 4 months

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Thinking about focalors saying furina's humanity is what made her perfect, but sending her on a 500 years long quest where she had to divorce herself from her humanness every single day anew.

Furina having to keep up a show of distance to humanity and having to put herself above her fellow humans, while encouraging Neuvillette, who has never been human, to mingle with them and learn to understand them.

Focalors inviting Neuvillette into the palais and knowing damn well something as strong as Furina's love and care for humans will inevitably rub off on him and there's nothing he could do about it.

Focalors loving and admiring humanity so much that she trusted herself, her human form, enough that not even a mighty ancient dragon could exist for centuries next to Furina's deeply kind and compassionate heart and be immune to it.

It wasn't only time that made Neuvillette unable to declare fontainians guilty after everything. It undoubtedly was also his Lady Furina meeting personally with her citizens, throwing big social banquets on her birthdays and visiting the sick and elderly in their homes.

Caring about the young and the old, remembering their names and bloodlines and their countless life stories.

There's something so special about the theme of humanness between Furina and Neuvillette and how it binds them together not just by fate, but by heart.

There's something special about him spending 500 years by the side of a human unknowingly, and it inevitably turning him into their ally, while Furina has no idea she's making it happen.

Loving humans comes naturally to her and this part of her could never be drowned out, not even by a painfully lonely and straining act of authority and godship.

There's something so heartbroken in Neuvillette's voice when he learns about her sacrifice and really, how could he ever declare humanity guilty for their mere existence when Furina was by his side sacrificing everything and then some for them for four centuries, regardless of how they treated or talked about her?

How could he ever leave her and her people to a doomed fate?

And a part of Furina telling him to get out and mingle with humans feels like she was saying "I know you don't like me much as an archon, but you would've loved me as a human" and she's right.

The moment she drops the act and moves out and goes on her very own healing journey, he falls hard.

Once the heavy presence of fate between them evaporates, he sees her clearly for the first time ever and what he sees is the very best of humanity. One of humanity's kindest and strongest and most determined.

So fragile and exhausted and half-ill from mental torment. Someone who certainly deserves the praises offered to a god, but who wears her human skin so much better.

Wears her heart on her sleeve, just like all her insecurities and flaws.

There's no act, no big secret, no impending doom hanging over their heads now, but she's further from Neuvillette's side than she's ever been and it makes him yearn for her in a way he doesn't know is utterly human.

And she's lying awake with the very same feeling.

#i know neuvillette had his own journey of getting closer to humanity too but you can't tell me she didn't play a huge role in it #it's just wild that the fate of a whole nation rested on the deep compassion and kindness of these two not-quite-humans #and the bond between them #🥲🥲🥲#neuvifuri #genshin impact #focallette #neuvillette #furina #fari talks fic

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splickedylit · 11 months

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Things I never get tired of writing

weird cultural worldbuilding, especially with strange, intricate social norms and power dynamics

characters playing little made up card games with implied bizarre, convoluted rules where I blatantly rip off the vibe of Pokemon, MTG, Duel Monsters/Yugioh etc

we see one of my favs from an outside POV: they are hot, badass, terrifying, tragic, or any/all of the above

#bullet point two is less represented in my writing over all but it is on my mind because it's what I'm writing at the moment lmao #still very amused by the motorcity fic where Chuck and his nerd buddies were playing ''Enchantment: The Convocation''#you don't have to make up rules you just have to pepper in there shit like #''(X) lays down two golden spires and activates //Dread Encumbrance of the Pilgrim//.''#i find it incredibly fun to make that shit up and also it gives people something to do with their hands in between dialogue lines lmao

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bamsara · 8 months

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Hey chief you've been sitting on the new chapter for a while what's the current word count? (also crumb? little crumb for us perhaps?)

I have about 70k worth of draft written but thats DRAFT and incoherent rambling so not an actual idea of the chapter word count, but since I've been talking about SL Monty latley I think it's fair to throw these here

#narrator note: he did in fact do that again #also between orders and packing for patreon and the other fic idea i havent revised anything in like a week #and there was also like two weeks where i didnt touch it when i was in and out of hospital caretaking #so i need that sweet sweet brain refresh before i go back in or ill write it and hate it again

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ellebells · 8 months

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Thinking a lot about how Simon himself is, in essence, a walking ship of Theseus. At what point between Simon and Ice King did he become a different person? The crown changed him, sure, but it mostly just scrambled what was already there in his brain. And we know that even after becoming “himself” again, he’s been fundamentally altered by the experience. Ice King is still with him, even if the crown isn’t.

#anyways you don’t spend 1000 years in a psychosis where you lose all your memories and walk away with a Normal Functioning Identity #and of course winter king is a sort of uncanny valley between the two #but even he is arguably both Simon and Not Simon #Fiona and cake #adventure time #simon petrikov #him making this reference feels more significant than a one off joke tbh #not to mention the whole him missing a heart thing #can’t remember if he gets it back but yeah #being IK physically changed him too #Ice King #winter king #yes this will be my next fics thesis. I have too many feelings abt this sad sack old man to NOT write smth

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ashanimus · 1 year

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Vee and Hunter had not started off on a very good foot.

He had recognized her immediately and done his best to avoid her. She had pretended that she didn't know who he was and that had been just fine with him. They had spent weeks like that, tip-toeing around the truth like it didn't exist, until one of them had finally flinched.

Fanart for the always incredible @polyhexian's fic Empty Water Heater!

#the owl house #the owl house fanart #the owl house hunter #toh hunter #hunter noceda #the owl house vee #vee noceda #fic recs #seriously this one is so sweet #changed my freakin brain chemistry #I really love stories that dig into the relationship between these two #this is a top favorite #do yourself a favor and check it out!!!#emotional and heartfelt and bitter and comforting #nate you beautiful bastard you never miss #ash art #adorable siblings forever

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sentientcave · 1 month

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Fuck-ass Mohawk

Contains: Alcohol, smoking (cigarettes and cannabis), Soap being Soap, Ghost being Ghost, uninvited touching, tall fem reader

Short little thing about Johnny liking it a bit when you're a bitch to him (And Ghost likes it too)

868 Words ~ MDNI

You’d rather stay home and play board games, but Laurie had convinced everyone that it was a good night for clubbing. You hated clubs— The noise, the crowds, the smell of sweat and alcohol and hormones— and spent the better part of club nights standing outside chain-smoking, or crammed into a dirty bathroom stall holding back a friend’s hair as she threw up blue curacao because she didn’t listen to you when you told her to eat dinner before going out. Tonight didn’t look like it was going to end up with anyone puking their guts up, at least. Laurie’s flirting with a gorgeous hunk with a devastating smile, and Alex and Hannah are dancing, so you go out the side door into the alley for some fresh air. Or air, anyway, since the alley’s where folks go to smoke. You light a joint, because at least that will dull the effect that the sound is having on your head. It’s getting close to midnight, which at least means the night is almost over, so long as someone doesn’t drag you along to some weirdo’s house. “Hey, wha’s a bonnie thing like ye doin’ out here all alone?” A voice purrs in your ear. You jump, surprised that he could get so close with out you noticing him, especially once you turn and really look at him. He’s huge, not that tall, probably your height when you’re not wearing boots (You have about an inch and a half on him in your shit-kickers), but broad and way more muscled than anyone has any reason to be, wrapped in a too-tight shirt, and smiling at you, bright blue eyes fixed on yours with unnerving intensity. He pats your shoulder. “Didnae mean to scare ye, lass, just wanted to say hello.” You take a big step to the side, establishing a new bubble of personal space without him in it. “Well, hello,” you say dismissively. “Goodbye.” There’s a snort from a few meters away, a big fellow with a kn95 mask dangling on one ear, his hand up in front of his face, a cigarette clamped between his fingers. “Och, dinnae be like tha’, hen.” “Don’t like it?” you ask, glaring at him. “Go away. Plenty of girls in there’ll go for whatever all this is.” A sweeping, unimpressed glance from his boots and ripped jeans up to his stupid mohawk would usually do the trick, but it only made this fellow smile wider. “No’ enough fer ya? I can sweeten tha deal some. The big fella doesnae mind sharin’ a sweet lass with me noo and again. There’s plenty of ye ta go around.” “Johnny,” the big fellow in question says sternly. His mask is back in place, covering the lower half of his face. “Dun’t look like she’s interested.”

“Tha’s where you’re wrong, LT. She just doesna want to admit it. Hen’s got pride. Wants to make me work for it, right lass?” He winks at you. “No. Don’t like your fuck-ass mohawk.” You puff on your joint, keeping your face still while he splutters, indignant. “Fuck-ass mohawk?” he asks. “What do ye mean by tha’?” “I mean it looks like you have a contentious relationship with your father,” you say. Maybe you’re being a bit mean, but it’s always fun to take a cocky fucker down a peg or two. “I don’t fuck with men with daddy issues. Most of ‘em are cops or military lads.” The big guy— LT?— laughs aloud at that while Johnny’s still looking at you with his mouth hanging open. The side door opens, and your friends pile out, Laurie arm in arm with her hunk, and Hannah and Alex clinging to handsome fellows of their own. “There you are,” Laurie says. “We’re going back to Hannah’s. Are you coming?” “Uh. I guess.” Laurie beams at you, and looks up at her hunk. “Kyle, do you need to find your friends?” “Nah. These lads right here.” He gestures at Johnny and LT. with a grin. “Knew Ghost would be out here, and Soap’s always followin’ him around like the big puppy he is.” “Ah’m no’!” You fall into step at the rear of the group. You’ll probably head home rather than join them, but Hannah’s flat is on the way to your own. Johnny and his handler flank you, matching your stride when you slow down or speed up. Annoying. “So what, is the big guy your replacement daddy?” you ask. “Wha— No!” Johnny says hotly. “He’s just my lieutenant.” “Could be your daddy, if you like,” Ghost says, putting a heavy hand on the back of your neck. “Got a thing for caustic little cunts.” “Oh fuck off,” you say, trying to shove his hand off. His grip squeezes a little tighter, and you try to ignore the way that core clenches around nothing. You channel the heat into anger, and dig your nails into his wrist hard. “Don’t fucking touch me.” He grunts, but doesn’t seem all that affected by your claws. “Look at you, ‘issin’ and spittin’ like a puffed up alley cat. S’cute. But save it for later, eh? Don’t want you to tire yourself out too early.”

#cave writing #Ghoap x reader #x reader #MW fic #just a short thing but I'm not sure I'll get around to writing more so I'm posting as is #Maybe someday I will write the second half of this where reader gets sandwiched between two hot military men and has a really good time #But yanno how it is

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nom-central · 2 months

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"Urph...oof, maybe that was too many." He looked down at the tiny he had pressed into his stomach, listening to and feeling the squirms and protests of their friends that came before them. He didn't intend on indulging as much as he had- just one treat after a long day of work would've normally sufficed, but he just so happened to come across a morsel with friends, and...

His stomach at least was quite pleased with the arrangement. His fitted suit however, was not. It was tight around his full belly, buttons straining to stay together while his snacks squirmed unhappily inside. It was more of a meal at this point, but they tasted so good...

Stifling another quiet burp, he studied the anxious tiny under his hand. "Maybe one more...it'd be a crime to waste something so delicious. Don't worry! You'll be meeting back up with your friends real soon!" Before they could react he lifted them up and shoved them in their mouth. He didn't spend as much time with tasting them as the others- there was no need to tease the last one left! He tilted his head back, pulling his collar back as he gulped them down and sighed. His stomach gurgled contentedly as it accepted another tiny, and his hands immediately moved to it to massage it. If they kept squirming like that he'd feel sore...but for now, the bliss of feeling full was worth it.

#v0re #soft vore #safe vore #extreme cuddling #unwilling prey #gt vore #multiple prey #male pred #vore drabble #written between two big fics bc im in a gt mood and i wanna be boy dinner

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abyssalic · 8 months

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long time no see, babes!! heres a wip of one of the creatures thats going to be part of my beloved au!!

#fnaf security breach #dca fandom #fnaf au #fnaf eclipse #all im going to say is he is an antagonist!!!#I'm stuck between the name Quasar and Blitz for this creature #what do u guys think??#might write a fic for this au eventually but only once i get enough art done for it. so expect drawings and some comics!!!#my snart (snail art)#Of Blood And Steel #expect some more stuff soon!!#pats my wip folder #im nervous #ive been working on this au for almost two years now!!! so this au has me excited!!#its so important to me #though! its going to be very heavy so not at all for the faint of heart

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wastefulreverie · 2 years

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every one one of my characters i write is aroace coded btw because figuring out how straight people think is fucking beyond me

#one time when I was 12 I tried writing a kissing scene between two characters for fan service bc I didn't want my readers to stop reading #my fic and I almost cried because it felt like pulling teeth. never occured to me for like. 6 years that that's not a normal reaction when #it comes to writing kissing scenes. didn't realize that people actually enjoyed that part of writing I thought it was just there for realism #aromantic #asexual #fanfiction #danny phantom fic girlies this ones for u

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skyward-floored · 4 days

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The Lost Woods aren’t so bad.

Not after traversing them more times then Link can count, at least. Sure the paths shift, and monsters occasionally slip their way inside to hide in the bushes and trees, but Link knows the way to the clearing where he needs to go.

The forest only needs to let him.

His boots cut through soft grass, an occasional crunch belaying a leaf. The song of the woods is on the wind, and Link follows its winding tune, the pipes of water, strings and drums of leaves and branches. Quiet giggles make his ears twitch, but Link knows to ignore them.

He plays the game of the Woods, walking its paths, watching poes with a careful eye to see where they lead. The song dances by, high and low, loud and soft, and the flute that sometimes joins it makes his heart ache.

Time stretches strangely under the canopy of trees and fog— Link feels like he’s been here for hours now, but the glimpses of sunshine that peek through the branches are no different from how it was when he arrived. Link passes through another clearing, doubt beginning to nip at his heels. They’re not called the Lost Woods for no reason after all, and he’s starting to wonder if he hasn’t passed their test this time.

Is it because of what I’ve done since last I’ve been here?

But then something in the air, in him, clicks, eases, Link doesn’t know the word. But it’s like a fog lifts from his vision, and the path he needs to take is suddenly obvious. Link follows the pull past flowers and stones, over a barely-there path. It guides him through the yawning mouth of a log, and birds softly chirp as he emerges into a familiar clearing.

Fog drifts past his boots as he looks around, and a single shaft of sunlight breaks past the trees, drawing his vision to sparkling blue.

Link exhales, and steps forward, squirrels and other small creatures darting away into the bushes. He steps up onto the small stone platform, and doesn’t move for a long moment, looking at where the Master Sword sits with wisps of fog and sunlight dancing around her. Waiting for him.

“Hey old girl,” Link says softly, and for some reason his throat aches as he rests a hand on her hilt. “Been a while.”

The metal under his skin is both hot and cold, warmed by the sun’s light, and cooled by the stone it rests in. Despite years exposed to the elements, the Master Sword isn’t covered in greenery like it was the first time Link found her. Nor is her shine diminished in the slightest. Her blade is dimmed only because she rests, her power waiting for the next hero who needs her.

Who just happens to be Link again.

A shaking sigh escapes him, and Link puts both of his hands around her hilt, the electrifying hot-and-cold sharp-and-soft thrill of her power zipping through him as he pulls.

The Master Sword slips loose just like it did when he pulled her the first time, and Link raises her to the sky, the fog parting and fading away. The sunlight brightens somehow, making her sparkle and glow, and Link’s throat tightens again.

He hadn’t realized until now how badly he’d missed her.

Link lowers the blade again, running a hand over her cool steel as he studies her, looking over her finer points to familiarize himself with the weapon once again. Something is different, he realizes after a minute or two. And when it finally dawns on him what it is, he holds the Master Sword tighter, almost hugging her.

“I’ve grown,” he says quietly.

The blade fits his size now.

Instead of the still-pudgy hands of a child grasping at her hilt, there’s the worn hands of an adventurer ghosting along the metal, scars catching in her grooves. There’s blood staining his hands now that wasn’t there before, yet she still allowed him to pull her.

“You fit better, now,” he continues, voice shaking a little. “Hopefully this’ll... make things easier.”

His breath hitches, and Link swallows it back, clasping the sacred blade in his arms like one would an old friend.

He squeezes his eyes closed.

“I guess I thought I wouldn’t be doing this again,” Link whispers, ghosting his fingers along the gem in her hilt. “Not... not after the last one.”

Not after what I did.

The metal seems to warm just a hair, like the sunshine got pulled into it, and Link rests his head against the Master Sword, allowing a single drop of saltwater to trail down his cheek.

“Thanks,” he croaks, and the softest, faintest of chimes echoes in his heart.

It’s enough to pull him from the grief that was threatening to swallow him up again, and Link sets aside the weight of an island, and focuses instead on the weight of the sword, and his kingdom.

He’s needed. He can’t get lost in grief.

Link breathes out, running his hand along the steel one more time, and then he gently sheathes her, stepping down from the platform.

“Here we go again old girl,” he says as he steps outside of the clearing, weary with grief, but determined to stop the evil returning yet again.

He closes his eyes.

“One more time.”

A single pure note chimes in his chest, and Link feels something other than grief wrap itself around him, urging him forward to take another step, to press on despite the weight.

It feels a little bit like hope.

#had sudden intense feelings about Legend and the Master Sword #and if he was dumped into albw events very shortly after koholint (a mean headcanon I have)#cranked this out in under two hours last night when I couldn’t sleep #bon appetit #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu legend #linked universe legend #linked universe fic #lu fic #a link between worlds #but specifically pre lu #writing from the floor #if this feels like a vent fic no it doesn’t shhhh

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adrift-in-thyme · 6 days

Text

Here it is! The fairy Time fic I promised. Be warned, it is extremely fluffy

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It is a quiet night.

Time is always grateful for those. They are in short supply on this journey, too often interrupted by the rise of the cursed Blood Moon or an outburst of beasts from under the cover of foliage. But tonight, the moon is tranquil and golden and the surrounding bushes and trees conceal nothing except chattering critters.

The heroes have settled around the fire, and are trading lazy quips. The occasional tale sneaks in between them, which quickly becomes a competition to see who has endured the more exciting experience.

Time doesn’t normally make a habit of joining in. He is content to remain just outside the conversation, close enough to comment if necessary, but far enough to merely listen. Such peace and joy are precious things – as precious as every moment spent by Malon’s side – and they surround him like a warm blanket.

Tonight, however, that wonderful feeling is making it rather difficult to remain awake.

It doesn’t help that the healing spells he had cast in the aftermath of today’s battle have left him feeling drained. With the traveler down and their potions used up, he had had little choice but to act. And he doesn’t regret it in the least. But that doesn’t negate the fact that healing magic has never been his strong suit.

Every fae possesses the power, yet not all have the strength to employ it in such a measure as he had today. Healing is a delicate act. It requires attentiveness and care, dedication and focus. He had poured all of that and more into his spells, used his heart and mind, his soul to heal his brothers’ wounds and save their lives. And in the moments afterward…had collapsed.

He is fortunate his brothers had been there to catch him. Too many times before he learned his limit, this weakness had spelled his doom. He has scars on his wings to prove it.

Still, he is practically useless, even now after the impromptu nap. He feels dried up and hollowed out, limbs heavy with the same exhaustion that drags his eyelids downward. And though he would normally protest at least a little at the prospect of staying in his current position, he cannot dredge up the will to do so.

So, here he remains, curled up on his side on Wind’s lap, Warriors’ scarf a silken cocoon about his body, one giant wing draped over him like a comforter.

He shifts with a small sigh. The sailor giggles, ever amazed at his fairy form, and reaches out to run a finger over Time’s wings. He is gentle, careful in every movement. Still, Time is a bit surprised at the lack of the fear that usually bubbles up whenever anyone touches him in this form.

He has had too many injuries, too many close calls with death or worse. They have made him wary. But he trusts the sailor. Wind is nothing if not kind.

He is safe here.

The knowledge hits him harder than any monster blow.

You are safe here.

Something breathtakingly warm wells up in him at that thought, similar to the feeling he has been basking in since he awakened, yet unique all the same.

“Alright, old man?” A soft voice asks, now, and Time pries open the eye he hadn’t even registered closing. Warriors grins down at him.

Time’s soft hum quickly dissolves into a blissful sigh as the captain tucks him more securely into his bed of softness. He allows his eye to slide shut again, his body to relax more fully. He allows the sensations and sounds to envelop him, surround him in warmth and comfort. To pull him down into blessed darkness once more.

“He’s adorable like this,” Wind says, his noisy whisper breaking through the haze. Another giddy giggle bursts forth from him like gurgling water.

“He is, isn’t he?” It’s Twilight now. Time can imagine the dirt-eating grin on his face, the same one that spreads across Malon’s when she beats him in yet another race around the pasture. “Though I doubt he wants us calling him that.”

There’s a pause, then in a disapproving whisper-yell, “and he definitely doesn’t want that. Put that slate of yours away, champion!”

There is the distinct sound of a camera snapping a photograph. Laughter ripples through the group like the wind through the trees.

“When he kills you all, don’t come running to me,” Twilight says, though there’s laughter in his voice too.

Traitors, Time thinks, lazily, all of them.

“Oh, come on, Twi. Look at him! He wouldn’t hurt us! Not like this anyway.”

“Then, you haven’t gotten a good look at his wings,” Legend pipes up, drily. “They’ve got eyes on them, you know.”

“Ooh.” Time can feel Wind’s breath ghosting him as the boy leans down to get a closer look. “I wonder if they make up for the one he lost. I’ll bet he can see us through ‘em!”

If Time wasn’t quite so tired (or finding this quite so exasperatingly comical) he would correct that assumption. But then again, what’s the harm in allowing a little rumor like that to spread and strike some healthy fear into the hearts of his would-be blackmailers?

“Come on guys.” Warriors’ voice rises above the hushed clamor of the others, all bickering about Time’s ability, or lack thereof to watch them through his wings. “He’s exhausted. Let him sleep.”

The heroes try to quiet, though their efforts are about as successful as Time suspected they would be. Whispers and barely stifled laughter continue to weave their way gallantly through the night.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

…though a few more telltale clicks of Wild’s slate cement his decision to play a prank on him as soon as he regains his strength.

“He’s so small,” someone murmurs, now as the hubbub begins to subside, sleepiness getting the best of even the most energetic among them. Sky, Time’s mind slowly supplies, putting a face to the voice that wafts gently around him. “To think, he healed us all while in that form…”

“Something you get to know very quickly about Sprite is that size doesn’t bother him,” Warriors replies, fondness in his tone. “Even as a kid, he could take out groups of monsters much larger than what we faced today.”

Sky chuckles, soft and almost sad. Time is too far gone to decipher why.

But he can’t deny the sudden rush of warmth when the chosen hero whispers, “thank you…little one.” And when, in the next moment, Sky ghosts a finger over the very tip of his wings, Time is unafraid beneath his touch.

He drifts off not long afterward to the sound of tired murmurs, the crackling of the campfire, and a soft song played upon an ocarina, the notes drifting up toward the moon.

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