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a-dauntless-daffodil · 2 months

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Charlie: (folded up and hunched over with chin in hands) (brooding)

Vaggie: "Someone's got a lovely long face today."

Charlie: (sighs) "Sorry..."

Vaggie: "Don't be, sweetie." (sits and hunches over too, hands clasped) "What's got you down?"

Charlie: "You, kinda."

Vaggie: "Me?" (terrified) "What did-"

Charlie: "And all this." (waves at vaggie next to her) "Specifically."

Vaggie: (edges away) "Is it the 'sweetie' thing? 'Cause I'll stop-"

Charlie: "No. No, I like it." (sighs again) "Vaggie, in the wonderful, amazing, dream-like over a YEAR we've known each other now, have you ever, like..."

Vaggie: (edging closer again) "...have I ever...?"

Charlie: "Killed anyone?"

Vaggie: "Wh- No!"

Charlie: "Not even a little?"

Vaggie: "What would 'killed them a little' even look like..? I mean, sure I've thought about maiming people, and probably would've a few times if you hadn't been there, but-"

Charlie: "What about when I wasn't looking? No... sneaking out for some midnight murder sprees?"

Vaggie: "Charlie- I can't even get up to use the bathroom without you tearing up half the bed with your claws looking for me. We've had to get new sheets three times this month. And last time I took a midnight shower, I found you curled up on the floor just outside the door afterwards. I almost STEPPED on you!"

Charlie: (pouting) "You were gone when I woke up."

Vaggie: "I was gone maybe ten minutes."

Charlie: "And I was missing you."

Vaggie: "Yeah. I figured." (smiles) "So how the fuck am I supposed to be sneaking out to kill people, when I'm best friends with the biggest cuddle bug in all creation?"

Charlie: "I don't know!" (frustrated) "NONE of this makes any SENSE!"

Vaggie: ".... now I feel like I'm missing something."

Charlie: "You're not though! That's why-" (GROWLS) (yanks at hair)

Vaggie: "Okay, hey- Charlie?" (takes her hand) "Talk to me?"

Charlie: "....."

Charlie: "...why're you still here?"

Vaggie: "Do you... want me to move out?"

Charlie: "NO! Never! I, you- I don't even know how I'd-"

Vaggie: "So that's not the problem here. What is?"

Charlie: "The PROBLEM is- I want you here, but you shouldn't BE here! You're not a bad person! Whatever you did or used to do- you haven't been for a whole YEAR, and I'm just- just being stupid and selfish wanting you to stay, but you-"

Vaggie: "You're not-"

Charlie: "-aren’t doing anything bad! So WHY-"

Vaggie: "Charlie, hold on- no- you're not stupid or selfish. You've been alone, and that's not something you did anything to deserve, okay?"

Charlie: "...."

Vaggie: "You can be sad without apologizing for it too, you know."

Charlie: (slumping) "Why are you still in hell, Vaggie?"

Vaggie: (wryly) "Not like I've got wings to flutter off with."

Charlie: "You deserve them."

Vaggie: "..... thanks for saying so, sweetie."

Charlie: "It's true."

Vaggie: “Pretty sure it’s not, since I don’t have them.”

Charlie: “You should. You should have them.”

Vaggie: “I’d rather have this.”

Vaggie: (lifts their hands)

Vaggie: “Who needs wings, when you’ve got the best cuddle bug ever. Right?”

Charlie: (holds tight) “…heaven’s probably better. Full of people you wouldn’t want to even maim. That’s where you belong, not down here in hell…”

Vaggie: “…with you?”

Charlie: “Oh I’d be fine!”

Vaggie: (lifts brow)

Charlie: “Really!” (looks away) “It’d be good. Knowing you’re up there in heaven, and, happy.”

Vaggie: “I wouldn’t be happy.”

Charlie: “Sure you would.” (miserable) “It’s heaven.”

Vaggie: “Hell’s better. It’s where you are.”

Charlie: “Vaggie…”

Vaggie: “Charlie.”

Charlie: “Be serious? Please?”

Vaggie: “I am. But it's not gonna work if you don’t listen to it.”

Charlie: “Fine.”

Charlie: (deep breath) (looks vaggie in the eye)

Charlie: “Vaggie. Do you want me to try getting you into heaven?”

Vaggie: “No.”

Charlie: (voice crack) “Are you SURE?”

Vaggie: “I’m not going anywhere. I’d miss you too much.”

Charlie: “...okay.”

Charlie: (laughs wetly) “Okay. I’d. Same.”

Vaggie: “Yeah.”

Vaggie: (dabs away charlie’s tears)

Vaggie: “You’ve been feeling extra lonely haven' you, thinking about all that on your own.”

Charlie: “Maybe. A little.”

Vaggie: “…sorry I didn’t, you know. Make sure you knew sooner. ”

Charile: (laughs for real) “Don’t be. Not like I asked.”

Vaggie: (smiles) “Sorry for making you feel like you even had to ask.”

Charlie: “Um. Uh.” (clears throat) “You’re forgiven?”

Vaggie: (chuckles)

Charlie: “…and, you’ll tell me, if you change your mind? About the whole heaven thing?”

Vaggie: “I won’t change my mind, Charlie.”

Charlie: “But if you do, you’ll say so?”

Vaggie: “Mmm, kinda feels like you’re saying it like you think I will.”

Charlie: “No. I mean you can, I just… don’t wanna worry about it like this again.”

Vaggie: “Oh. Then I promise-”

Charlie: “Thank you.”

Vaggie: “-if you promise me you’ll let me know what’s going on in that brilliant head of yours.”

Charlie: “Pfft- More silly than brilliant. Didn’t wanna bother you.”

Vaggie: “Bother me? Now you're really sounding silly. You’re not the only one who’s been lonely.”

Charlie: “Huh? You? Why were you- Ohhh…”

Vaggie: “You’ve been a million miles away lately. Welcome back.”

Charlie: “Aww Vaggie! Were you missing me, even when I was right in front of you???”

Vaggie: “Don’t even.”

Charlie: “That’s so cuuuute~”

Vaggie: “Don't. You've been worse. You were impersonating a rug- You clung on so hard after I picked you up I couldn’t even get the blankets over us again.”

Charlie: “Lucky I make a good blanket!”

Vaggie: “The best. But you still gotta stop sleeping in front of the bathroom door.”

Charlie: “I can, try?”

Vaggie: “Is it really that hard to stay in a warm soft bed?”

Charlie: “It is when you’re not there!”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, please. I’ll be coming right back.”

Charlie: “…then I can wait.”

Vaggie: “Good.”

Charlie: "...."

Charlie: “Probably. I think I can probably wait.”

Vaggie: “Ugghh...”

Vaggie: (playfully bumps shoulders) (leans in as charlie hugs her instead)

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #fluff and light angst #incorrect quotes #silly ideas #vaggie and the very fine line of not saying SOME things #while trying to make sure the others are heard LOUD and CLEAR #even through charlie's whirligig brain of many thoughts #imagine charlie sleep-gowling as she reaches around searching for vaggie in their empty bed #vaggie comes back and it's just #pillow feathers and shredded cloth EVERYWHERE #XD

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rayroseu · 1 month

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I know its been said that Lilia likes acting cheerful despite his nearing death because he doesn't want to look weak. But, I think the undertone of his reasoning is he doesn't want to spend his last days in tragedy and sadness so he copes it with being happy as much as he can.😭

Isn't that a more obvious behavior especially now that we know that Lilia's life only has been happy for the last 2 decades, or less. I'm saying that because I feel like the years where Malleus grows up was depressing too because he was badly excluded and only recently, in NRC, did he finally have "a group of people to be a part of with freely"

I feel like this is more like an understandable reason why he wants to go away as "he can still smile and act happy" before his age deteriorates him up, and makes him "look lifeless" to his family.

Rather than making Silver and Malleus remember his death, I think his version of a happy ending was that party where they'll all have fun together. I think Lilia wants them to remember *his happiness* the most. Because Lilia's life has mostly been a tragedy, and I don't think he wishes even after his death, that he would still be a "tragic person".

I feel like his line about "not wanting Malleus to be a hero of a fairy tale" reflects that. Because he did experience being the "hero of a fairytale". He saved Malleus from being killed and dying. He is, in the story, the rightful hero of Briar Valley.

TWST has always told that heroes in this world are perfect individuals with perfect morals and life, but Lilia as a hero, added more depth towards the concept of heroes in TWST...

To be a hero, you need to be facing the story's conflicts, you have to sacrifice a lot, and be in pain for doing the right thing just for you to "have something to be victorious over."

And, I feel like that's a nice parallel to the theme that "villains are people that can be redeemed/grow up even if they're messed up". Its like saying everyone struggles even if you're a hero or a villain, like there's never a perfect role or a perfect world where there's no sadness.... 😭

also, I know Lilia mostly said that line about "heroes in fairytales" because he wants Malleus not to die forgotten like Meleanor and Levan, but its GETS ME knowing he said that as well because he doesn't want to see Malleus in any kind of pain😭

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lemonlinelights · 10 months

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Intervention

ao3

Summary: The turtles are worried about Casey Jr's recent behavior.

A short fic based off of somerandomdudelmao’s Cass Apocalyptic series

Casey Jr!” Mikey yelled. It was a type of shout heard on long car rides when a cow was spotted. Casey froze, his hand hovering over the door knob.

“Hi?” Casey asked. He turned around to face Mikey. Then he immediately regretted doing so. It wasn’t only Mikey that was there. Donnie and Leo had appeared quietly, flanking either side of Casey. It reminded him of that dinosaur movie they watched together to have him “better understand pop-culture”.

“Well um,” Casey turned around “I’ve gotta go-” he tried to make a break for it only to be met with the wall that is Raphael Hamato. Casey was surrounded.

“What, what is this, an intervention?” Casey joked. He was the only one who laughed.

“Precisely.” Donnie said. Casey’s eyes widened.

“We’re worried about you.” Raph said, hand on Casey’s shoulder. Reassuring, but also stopping Casey from bolting.

“Me?” Casey asked.

“Yes, you!” Leo exclaimed. “Who else would we be talking about?” He waved his arms around.

“…not me?” Raph’s brow furrowed.

“You haven’t been home at all.” Mikey said, officially opening the floodgates.

“We haven’t seen you eat.”

“You won’t talk to us.”

“Have you been sleeping at all?”

“You’re skittish.”

“And I know you’ve been stealing from my lab!” Donnie shouted.

“Also, you’ve been lying.” Leo finished. Casey rocked back and forth.

“Psh, me, lying?” Casey waved his hand as if to dismiss the idea.

“Does saying you have an uncle of all things ring any bells, Casey?” Leo asked, hands on his hips. Casey felt his heart sink.

“What Leo means to say is, we can help Casey, whatever it is that’s bothering you, us, April, Splinter, and…even Draxum.” Raphael explained, he squeezed Casey’s shoulder. Donnie rolled his eyes, but he didn’t scoff.

“Yeah!” Mikey exclaimed. “I can use my pizazz!” He said while finger gunning at Casey.

Casey couldn’t do this. What felt like an eternity to Casey looked like a blur to the others. He yanked himself out from under Raph’s hand, dodging Mikey trying to grab him.

“No!” Casey shouted. “No, you can’t help!”

“Yes we can!” Leo shouted back and God the way he tilted forward, arms opened wide, a determined look on his face. Casey choked back tears.

“You can’t bring them back!”

Everyone stilled.

“You look just like them.” Casey whispered. But that also wasn’t the full truth.

Sure Leo did what Uncle Tello called the mom stance but he didn’t do it with the same caring grin. Smile lines and crows’ feet missing from his face. Donnie rolled his eyes but it wasn’t the same playfulness. Mikey did finger guns but there wasn’t the same spark, literally and figuratively. And this Raph couldn’t hold him the same, they weren’t there yet. He wasn’t there yet with any of them, where an embracing hug was the default. They were so much alike but they were not the same turtles he knew. They were not his senseis.

All he wanted right now was a genuine Hamato hug. His Hamatos’ hugs. And Uncle Tello could do that. Uncle Tello was here. Uncle Tello was working towards a day where all of them could hug Casey again. Casey could do that. Casey could be here with them, his senseis.

“I can fix it.” Casey said. His hope poured out like a squashed oozesquito. Sad and beaten but still going.

“Huh?” Mikey said.

“Just you wait!” Casey exclaimed, running out of the lair, heels on fire.

“Casey, wait!” Leo started to go after him. One of Donnie’s mechanical limbs reached out and grabbed him.

“What would you even do?” Donnie asked. Leo didn’t know. He didn’t know. None of them know.

But Casey? Casey knew. Casey knew exactly what he was going to do. For once in his life he knew exactly what he wanted and he knew exactly how to get it.

Casey Hamato knows.

#the spacing on tumblr is so wacky #i try XD #cass apocalypse series #cass apocalyptic series #rottmnt casey junior #rottmnt fic #love cass' comic so much it is wonderful #the shoulder thing the turtles do in the comic #BUT PAINFUL >:D #heres hoping that the readmore works #drabble #my writing #angst

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cuubism · 1 month

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physical therapy, part 6.

Hob's been wavering on things like timeline with Dream because, well, he doesn't want to push, but he does obviously want more. There's a lot that he wants, and he thinks Dream wants it too. But Hob can be patient. Definitely. For sure. He's the epitome of patience.

In any case, after a few more dates which are oh so very patient, and in which Dream seems to be gradually coming more and more out of his shell, Hob finally takes the plunge and texts him:

If you want, come over to my place this weekend and I'll cook for you, and adds his address.

He paces nervously while waiting for a response. Dream coming over... he doesn't know how that would end. Well, it would hopefully at least end in Dream eating a proper meal, but other than that...

It's really not so long before he gets a response, though it feels like an eternity.

Okay, writes Dream, with a smile. 🙂 Should I bring anything?

Just yourself, writes Hob.

A shame, for I was planning to arrive incorporeally.

Hob smiles to himself at the comment. Dream is so much brighter once he decides he’s allowed to be.

On the agreed-upon date, Hob spends a truly excessive amount of time getting ready. He’s not even cooking anything elaborate, as he felt convinced he’d wind up fucking it up out of nerves if he did. But really, the quality of his food isn’t the wild card. What he’s nervous about is Dream’s response to being in his home. To being alone. Whether he’ll be okay with it. He doesn’t want to make Dream nervous.

But Dream arrives on time, and he’s smiling when Hob opens the door. He’s also carrying a huge canvas.

Oh!” Hob says, distracted from even kissing him hello. “What have you got there?”

“It is for you,” Dream says, and turns the canvas around so Hob can see it.

It’s a large painting of a rather clever-looking cat, bright colors and bold swathes of paint. It reminds Hob of Dream’s finger paintings, actually, but far more precise in technique. It’s lovely. It’s so cute. And much more playful than Dream’s older art, the pieces he had shown Hob from before his injury.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous,” he says, and Dream smiles shyly. “I take it your grip’s been feeling steadier, then?”

“Somewhat,” Dream says, following Hob deeper into the flat, as Hob takes the painting and sets it on top of a low bookshelf, propped against the wall. Later he’ll have to hang it up properly. “I am. Enjoying painting again. I think.”

It’s so good to hear. Each time Hob sees Dream he seems incrementally better. Less frozen. More outgoing. And it always makes Hob realize that he’s only gotten to see a fraction of the life that truly exists inside of him.

“I’m so glad to hear that, darling,” he says.

It hurts to think of the version of Dream that might have been there before being hurt. But Hob likes the Dream that he gets to know now.

He leads Dream into the kitchen and bids him to sit down at the table while Hob serves their food, which is staying warm on the stove. Normally, when he invites someone over, he’d offer them wine, but he doesn’t want Dream to get the wrong idea. God, he’s probably massively overthinking things. He’s being totally paranoid, he knows it. But it feels so important that it be right. He’d never forgive himself if he made Dream feel unsafe around him, even if it was by accident.

“I am curious what you’ve prepared to attempt to persuade me to change my habits,” Dream says, after taking a sip of the water Hob’s handed him.

“Something with a lot of butter,” Hob says, and Dream laughs softly. Dream needs it, though. He needs something that’ll stick to his bones.

What he has is tarragon chicken—fried in, truly, an excessive amount of butter—served over rice with string beans. If this can’t encourage Dream to eat real meals, nothing can.

And, gratifyingly, he’s right. Dream devours it, and has seconds. As he eats his own serving more sedately Hob wonders when the last time was that somebody actually cooked for him.

They barely even talk, but Hob doesn’t mind. He just wants Dream to eat.

“You can cook,” Dream says, and Hob laughs.

“Was that in question?”

A light blush graces Dream’s cheeks. “When you first mentioned cooking for me, I had the thought that you were a catch. For that reason among others.”

Hob can’t help himself from smiling—and perhaps blushing a bit, too. “I’ll have to keep it up, and maybe you’ll keep me.”

Dream looks down at his food, but murmurs, “I would like to.”

So Hob takes his hand on the table and squeezes it.

Later in the evening, when they’ve been ensconced on the couch for a while watching mindless telly, Dream’s head on his shoulder, Hob says, “You can stay over if you want. No expectations. Just don’t want you walking home in the dark.”

He’ll walk Dream home if that’s what he really wants, but it’s already midnight and it really might be easier to just stay put.

“Am I allowed to stay over in your bed?” Dream asks, and Hob’s pulse jumps.

“That’s what you want?”

Dream nods.

So, heart still beating hard, Hob says, “Alright. Come on, then.”

And Dream takes his hand as Hob draws him up.

He gets Dream situated with some of his pajamas, which are far too large on him, and with a spare toothbrush and so on, and when they’re finally ready he tries not to be too awkward or nervous as he climbs into bed and gestures Dream to follow, saying, “Come on, love.”

He expects Dream might hesitate, but he doesn’t, just crawls into bed after him and presses himself all up against Hob’s body, laying his head on Hob’s chest. And— God. He’s really decided that he trusts Hob. It puts a lump in Hob’s throat.

He feels like a fucking teenager again, stomach all fluttery just at the feeling of Dream lying against him. In past relationships, Hob had mostly jumped in sex-first, questions-later. But maybe there are more benefits to taking things slow than he thought. It makes every tiny thing feel monumental.

“Comfortable?” he asks, and Dream nods, hair brushing Hob’s chin.

“Yes, thank you.”

Hob pulls the blankets up over them, pets his hair. Dream lets out a long, happy sigh, and snuggles closer.

I’m going to keep you, Hob thinks. “Goodnight, Dream,” he says.

#a nice moment before ANGST #you didn't think we were done with angst did you XD #physical therapy fic #dreamling #my writing #tarragon chicken is a family recipe--thin chicken cutlets breaded and fried in butter with white wine wash and tons of chopped tarragon #i recommend

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dootznbootz · 3 months

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Menelaus rambles a lot about not only Helen, but also Hermione. About how she used to say Olive like "Olifs". How she lost her first tooth running too fast and running into a low branch while out with Helen. How he'd sometimes wake up to Hermione leaning over him and poking his face to say, "Dad, can we go see the horses?" even though it was barely daylight. How she was much nicer waking Helen and how he thinks Hermione did that on purpose because she found "dad's face funny". How her favorite color was every color.

And Odysseus listens.

And he thinks about how his son only had a few teeth coming in when he left, teething on everything. How he could only say one syllable with his babbles. How his son needed balance to stand but Odysseus was so proud that Telemachus was very good at rolling over. How his son loved pulling at his and Penelope's hair.

How his son would be talking, walking, maybe even lost his first tooth by now. And he doesn't even know if he'll ever know his son's favorite color.

#Hi get sad with me :D #Odysseus and Menelaus are the Bros™ to me. I love them. Both simps who love their family despite being different in personalities #You cannot tell me they didn't talk about this and how this was painful for both of them :')#To make myself feel better. I like the thought of Athena kind of keeping him up to date :'D as he's her pet you know?#okay so this next bit ain't angst but imagine Hermione just coming in staring in the dark with the classic:#“Mom. Dad. I frew up🥺”#scaring the shit outta both her poor parents. Yeah I know she had nurses with her most likely but it's cute and fun!!!#I'm sorry but that's so fucking funny to me. I think every Parent has experienced that I'm pretty sure.#odysseus #menelaus #tagamemnon #greek mythology #this'll probably flop but oh well xD My homies can get sad with me >:)#odyssey #the odyssey #telemachus #hermione #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #helen of sparta #penelope #odypen

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promptsforyourwhumpfic · 9 months

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Whump Prompt #1216

@cyborg0109 asked:

Do you have any prompts for newly rescued whumpee being scared of caretaker?

Sure:

Begging the caretaker not to touch them - even to apply bandages/stitch them up. (Though eventually caving after a lot of convincing)

The caretaker classic: “I’m not going to hurt you”

Or: “I don’t mind that you don’t trust me. It’s okay. I wouldn’t trust me either, but if you don’t let me help, it’s going to hurt worse.”

Also: “I can’t promise that I’m not going to hurt you, okay? I can’t promise that me bandaging you up wont hurt, but I promise It’ll help.”

Whumpee backing themselves into a corner - paralysed by fear.

Does your whumpee freeze, or do they fight?

#sorry these are short #was trying to think of things I haven't done before XD #whump #writing #prompts #fear #panic #dialogue #caretaker #whumpee #rescue #distrust #angst

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skyward-floored · 11 months

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Different, Yet Similar

I woke up a few days ago with this fic in my head and for some reason I was able to write it out really quick, I don’t know how that happened XD I also decided it was the perfect opportunity to try out a slightly different writing style, and while I don’t think I’ll stick with it, it was an interesting experiment anyways :)

————————————————————

“So... how did you guys all meet your Zeldas?”

Wind is the one to pose the question, said while looking around with curious eyes at the rest of the Links. Most of who now have varying expressions of surprise on their faces, the question unexpected.

“Why do you ask, sailor?” Time asks, his single eye watching him curiously. Wind shrugs, fiddling with one of the power bracelets that has taken permanent residence on his wrists. They’re good for fidgeting with, he’s found.

“I’m just curious if any of us met ours similarly or not.” His mouth turns up into a grin. “I mean, I met Tetra after she got dropped by a giant bird and got stuck in a tree. I’d bet none of you guys met yours quite like that.”

Snickers ring through the camp, though a few of the Links give the sailor mildly concerned looks as well. The nonchalance with which Wind speaks of the antics he and his princess get up to sometimes worries them.

“Was she okay?” Hyrule asks in concern, and Wind nods, waving him off with a small flick of his wrist.

“Totally fine. Tetra’s tough, it would take more than a fall from a giant bird to rattle her.”

“A giant bird?” Sky asks eagerly, perking up a little. Wind doesn’t perk up in return though, rather he cringes at the excitement in Sky’s voice.

This isn’t a giant bird like the kind Sky is used to.

“Not a nice one,” he replies, thinking back to the crimson bird that was Sky’s best friend. “Ganondorf was using the bird to kidnap girls he thought might’ve been Zelda. Tetra had been grabbed, but she got dropped because her pirate crew managed to score a hit on the bird... the Helmarok king. He wasn’t nice,” Wind finishes more quietly, an unusual dark thread of anger in his voice.

Then he sighs, and shakes off the memories, looking around at the other Links in curiosity.

“So? How’d you guys meet your Zeldas?”

“Um... which one?” Hyrule asks hesitantly, scratching his neck. He’s in the rather unique position of knowing two princesses by the name of Zelda, a fact which often confuses his traveling companions. “I kinda have two...”

“Do both,” Wild says from where he’s seated nearby, and Hyrule nods.

“Okay. Well... there’s not really much to tell, honestly. For the first Zelda, I just met her after I defeated Ganon. He’d captured her, and after I defeated him I got her out and took her back to the castle.”

Hyrule laughs a little then, and looks up at the sky, constellations just starting to come into view.

“We were both a mess when I got into the place where he’d been keeping her; I was dirty and bleeding in multiple places, and Zelda had basically been living in a dungeon for a few weeks. It wasn’t exactly polite company,” he chuckles.

The others laugh a little at Hyrule’s story, though some of them wince in sympathy at the mention of his wounds. Fights with Ganon were never easy.

They’re all aware of how powerful their greatest foe is.

“How about your other Zelda? How did you meet her?” Sky asks, and Hyrule suddenly blushes for some reason, fidgeting with his bracers.

“Well um, she’d been cursed into a long sleep by an evil wizard, so when I first saw her she wasn’t even awake,” he admits. “But after I woke her up, that’s when I actually met her.”

“And what happened then?” Legend asks with a teasing smirk, having noticed Hyrule was still blushing.

The traveler’s cheeks darken a little, but he admits to nothing. “She said thank you for waking her up.”

“And how did she say thank you?” Wind asks with a mischievous look in his storm-tossed eyes.

Hyrule blushes even darker, but still admits to nothing— though the face he’s making says an awful lot. The others really don’t need to know about the kiss he received in thanks for waking the second Zelda: he knows he’ll never hear the end of it if they do.

Hyrule manages to meet Wind’s gaze without faltering, crossing his arms with a firm look.

“With her mouth, of course. How else would she say thanks?” he says a bit haughtily, and Time decides to intervene before poor Hyrule’s face turns any redder.

“I met my Zelda in a fairly simple way,” he says, and the other Links turn to look at him, abandoning their pursuit of getting an answer out of Hyrule in favor of listening to what Time has to say. Their unofficial leader rarely gives them details of his adventures, no less his version of the princess they’re all so familiar with. “I was... about nine, I believe, maybe ten.”

He sighs, shaking his head as he thinks back to when so much of his life had abruptly changed.

“I was instructed to go see her, but they didn’t want to let a mere child in at the gate. So I snuck into the castle to talk to her, and succeeded, more than once. The guards hated that a ten-year-old could get past them without being seen,” he says with a chuckle. “They weren’t terribly good at their jobs.”

“That’s a little like how I met my version of the princess,” Twilight says thoughtfully, a hand on his chin. “‘Course I didn’t sneak into the castle, I was trying to sneak out.”

“Why, were you in the dungeon?” Legend scoffs, and Twilight smirks.

“That’s exactly it, actually.”

Legend’s face turns to one of surprise, and more laughter rings out from the Links, especially from Wild.

“I was wondering when you were gonna tell them you’re an escaped convict,” he grins at his mentor, and Twilight swats at him with a look both fond and annoyed.

“I’m not an escaped convict,” he says with an eye roll. “The enemy had overtaken the castle, they’re the ones who threw me in there. I committed no crime.”

“Mmm, I’m pretty sure some of the stuff you’ve done counts as crime,” Wild cuts in again, a grin twitching at his lips. “What about the time you blew up that old—”

“Somebody else’s turn,” Twilight interrupts, putting a hand over Wild’s mouth, much to his annoyance. He’d rather wanted to be the one to tell the others about that particular incident.

“Smithy? How about you? You’re pretty good friends with your Zelda, right?” Twilight asks, ignoring the clamor of the others to elaborate.

Four nods, and a bright smile stretches across his face at the reminder of his closest friend.

“You’re right, I’ve known Zelda as long as I can remember,” Four begins as he sets aside the dagger he’d been sharpening, eyes warm. They suddenly dim a little though, and he clears his throat. “I think the first true memory I have of her was at my... a family member’s funeral.”

The other Links still as the smithy speaks, Twilight relinquishing his hold on Wild so they can both better hear. Four looks down at his hands as he thinks back to that day, but then a bit of a smile returns to his lips.

“She came because the family member knew the crown fairly well. We were the only kids there, so we ended up talking a lot... That’s when I really got to know her, and we’ve been close ever since,” he finishes quietly.

“That was similarly to how I met mine,” Sky says after a moment of silence, his voice soft. Four nods at him to continue, and Sky returns it with a bit of a smile. “I knew Zelda a little before, it was impossible not to on Skyloft. There’s not all that much space... but that was the problem when the sickness went through...”

He trails off, then shakes his head as if to clear it, hair falling in his face as he takes a steadying breath.

The memory of the death of his parents isn’t one he likes to linger on, even if it inadvertently led to him becoming friends with Zelda.

“Anyways,” Sky continues, clearing his throat, “I ended up living in the Knight’s academy before I was old enough to attend, and since Zelda lived there with her father as well, we played together all the time. It was inevitable we’d at least become friends.”

“You became a bit more than just friends though, or so I’ve heard,” Warriors says slyly, and Sky blushes as the laughter returns. The captain’s attempt at lightening the mood has succeeded.

“We... haven’t officially become anything,” Sky says simply, and the rest of them shoot each other knowing looks. It’s no secret that Sky is head-over-heels for his Zelda. It’s only a matter of time before something becomes official.

Sky looks back at Warriors then, the captain still chuckling a little over the reaction to his comment.

“You haven’t told us how you met your Zelda, captain,” he points out, and Warriors’ laughter peters off, a fond look replacing the mirth in his eyes.

“Ah, you caught me. Mine is complicated though,” he says with a slightly distant tone in his voice, and the others settle in to listen again. Warriors has mentioned more of his Zelda than some of the others, but not everything they’ve done or been through.

And while he speaks of her with nothing but professionalism, there’s a fondness in his eyes that a few of the Links have picked up on, one that speaks of a deeper bond.

One that nobody’s called him out on yet, but it’ll only be a matter of time.

“I only sort of met her the first time,” Warriors begins, leaning back on the log where he’s seated. “The war had just started, and things were... complicated, to say the least. Messy. She disguised herself to keep her identity safe, so I didn’t truly meet Zelda for quite some time.”

“But when you did?” Wind asks eagerly, and Warriors chuckles.

“It was worth the wait. But I got to know her while she was disguised, so in a way... I already knew her,” he says with a bit of mystery, and Time smiles from the opposite side of the fire.

Time still remembers the day Sheik shed her disguise and revealed herself to be the princess. Warriors was so shocked he’d said something rather idiotic, and Artemis had laughed at him a bit nervously, and then the two of them had gone off to have a long overdue conversation about her true identitiy.

Time won’t bring it up though. He’ll let Warriors keep a few of his secrets yet.

“That leaves... Wild and Legend left who haven’t said anything,” Wind says after a moment, counting off on his fingers.

The two look up at their nicknames, but Wild has a slightly uncertain look in his eyes, and Legend seems oddly stone-faced. Wind looks between the two, and debates for a moment which one to ask first.

Hyrule beats him to it.

“Champion, do you... remember meeting your Zelda the first time?” Hyrule asks a bit hesitantly. The others quiet at the question, and look as one over at Wild.

They’re all aware of Wild’s memory problems, but nobody except for maybe Twilight is truly aware of the extent they reach their blank grip into the champion’s mind. He still doesn’t remember much of his old life, merely a handful of memories recovered here and there that snatch him out of the life he’s currently living, then return him just as abruptly.

But meeting Princess Zelda is not one of these.

“Nope,” Wild says lightly, somewhat in opposition to the serious mood that has fallen over the heroes. “Not at all. I have no clue how we first met... knowing what she thought of me, I probably accidentally insulted her.”

The heroes chuckle good-naturedly, and Wild waits for the sound of their laughter to fade before continuing.

“No, I don’t remember how we originally met. My first true memory of Zelda isn’t when I met her... whenever that must have been.”

A soft smile parts his lips.

“It... was her voice. Back when I was still asleep. Calling to me, urging me awake once the shrine had finally finished healing me. She guided me when there was nobody else, told me my name, and though I didn’t even remember hers... that was when I first met Zelda.”

Twilight gives his shoulder a squeeze, and Wild lets him, a look full of several conflicting emotions settling on his face.

Warmth is the one that shows itself the most though, and a ghost of a smile flits across Twilight’s face when he sees it.

“How about you, Legend? You’ve been pretty quiet,” Four asks, changing the focus to give Wild some privacy. The prickly veteran tugs his cap tighter over his hair in response, hiding a few more strands of the pink that’s still fading away.

“She called to me too,” he says, voice oddly emotionless. “Woke me up in the dead of night and asked for help, with nothing but her voice.”

Something flickers in his gaze, but it’s gone so quickly nobody can quite catch what it is.

“She guided me to the castle, and I managed to find my way to where she’d been imprisoned in her own dungeon by the forces of darkness. I freed her, and that’s where I met her,” he finishes.

“That’s it?” Wind asks in confusion, a slight tilt to his head, and Legend nods.

“That’s it.”

It’s short and to the point, and while some of the heroes nod, the others that are more aware of how their veteran works pick up on the holes in the story.

The Hero of Legend may seem sharp and fearless, but even he has weak points, moments where he has felt neither like a hero nor strong enough to ever be one. These moments he’s purposefully left out of this story, important though they may be.

These are not moments he shares freely. And especially not during what’s supposed to be a lighthearted answer to the boundless curiosity of the youngest member of their group.

“See sailor? None of us met our Zeldas the same way you did,” Legend says with a smirk, easily changing the subject, and Wind hums, looking around at the heroes as he fidgets with his bracelets again.

“That’s true. But there’s similarities between all of them,” he points out, “and some of them are really similar, like yours and Wild’s.”

“Hyrule’s second one was a bit like Wild’s too,” Twilight points out. “Just reversed.”

“And Twilight’s was kind of like the old man’s,” Hyrule mentions with a bit of wonder to his voice, and that sends the group into a flurry of comparing and contrasting the differences, debating the finer points and wondering if the similarities mean anything.

Four though, hangs back from the conversation, not as willing to discuss things. As he looks around the clearing, he notices he’s not the only one either, and he slips around the fire to where the veteran has retreated, watching the others in silence.

Sky sees him go, but doesn’t comment. He knows what the smithy is doing.

“Hey,” Four greets as he settles down, and Legend doesn’t look at him.

“You need something?” the veteran asks with a sharpness in his voice that threatens to slice Four into pieces. The smithy ignores it, well used to Legend’s prickliness, and continues to sit, watching the others keep on with their loud discussion.

“No. I just didn’t want to keep listening to... all of that,” Four says with a slight smile, watching as Wind lunges across Warriors’ lap to grab at Wild for some reason.

Legend doesn’t reply, face still stony.

Four doesn’t directly look at him, but he watches the veteran from the corner of his eyes, seeing how tightly he’s wound, how his expression is set in a way that seems to be solely for the purpose of keeping it from cracking into something vulnerable.

It’s a familiar look, one that Four’s seen on his own face. There’s a part of him that’s like that, sometimes, but that just means he knows somewhat of how to deal with it... whether Legend wants him to or not.

“It was my mother,” Four says suddenly, breaking the silence.

Legend looks over at him, a flicker of surprise joining the crease on his brow. He appears rather taken aback, and Four waits for his reply.

“What was?” the veteran asks. Four looks up at the sky for what feels like a long, long time before replying, and Legend almost wonders if he’s ever going to speak.

“The funeral where I met Zelda,” Four continues, voice full of a bittersweet pain. “It was my mother’s.”

Legend stares at him a moment, unsure of how to reply.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Four continues, still looking up. His eyes are a reddish color, hints of green and blue peeking through that allude to the emotions he’s keeping a steady control of. “I just wanted you to know... you’re not the only one who didn’t meet Zelda under the... best circumstances.”

Four continues to watch the stars, and Legend swallows, his stony indifference cracking despite his best efforts.

Legend doesn’t like to admit it, but despite how carefully he closes himself off, sometimes he’s just as expressive as Wind— what he doesn’t say actually saying more than anything he admits to. And it looks like Four, dealing with a similar pain, has seen right through him.

The veteran is silent for a long time, listening to the others laugh and carry on, and Four sits beside him in equal silence, waiting for as long as Legend needs.

“My uncle,” he whispers finally, and Four squeezes his shoulder.

He doesn’t say anything more. And he doesn’t need to.

#weird ending but everything else I tried was worse XD #linkeduniverse #linked universe #all the links #lu legend #lu four #linked universe fanfic #lu fic #writing from the floor #hurt/comfort #I hate naming fics YEECH #legend angst snuck in here it wasn’t originally about him

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thetiredtrans · 4 months

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Sketch Commission for @gravity-falls-fanatic89 !

(Pretend there’s a background-)

#artists on tumblr #gf art #gravity falls #disney xd #stanley pines #digital art #angst

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hammysando · 4 months

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“Thank-You's and Goodbyes” Floyd Leech x Bullied!GN!Reader

AN: This is pure angst. Hurt and no comfort. Can you guys tell I really like to write angst? I SWEAR there is fluff coming soon- It's very similar to the Jing Yuan fanfic toward the end, but I like this one too XD. Anyway, don't forget to like and reblog if you enjoyed! And drop a comment if you so feel like it! <3 Reader is Gender Neutral!

Wordcount: 1.3K+ words~

Prompt: Nothing hurts more than almost. And being too late.

TW: Mentions of suicide, Major character death (Reader), Topics of bullying and grief.

Please read at your own risk!

More below the cut~

Floyd noticed them on a random Thursday, when he decided to be early to Crewel’s Potionology class. He had been ready to skip completely, but decided that if he wanted to pass the next lab, he'd better attend. He slunk toward the entrance, lanky frame bobbing slightly with his laid-back, slow steps. Though, his feet came to a stop as he heard sniffling from inside the classroom.

”Ehhh? Is someone already here?” He mused this to himself as he peeked into the room curiously.

Someone stood at the furthest desk from the doorway, head bowed as hot tears slid down their cheeks. They seemed to stare down at the desk for a while longer before wiping their eyes and taking out a cloth and tiny bottle of liquid from their uniform jacket. Quickly, they poured the cleaning solution on their desk before scrubbing away at something. This piqued Floyd’s interest as he stepped in and made his way over, his signature smile in his face. Bending down, he hummed in the student’s ear and spoke, voice playful and probing.

“Say, I haven't seen you before.” His grin deepened, dual colored eyes squinting slightly with mischievous amusement. “I'll call you flamefishie.”

Floyd Leech’s second encounter with this stranger happened when he came early once again. Except this time, he peeked over their shoulder as they started to erase black and red words off their desk. The ink ran and disappeared quickly, but Floyd could feel himself tense as the words flashed in his mind.

“Worthless freak.”

“Gonna cry?”

“I bet your parents are embarrassed of you because you're practically magicless.”

“Say, Flamefishie… Who-” The student broke away, leaving wordlessly and in a hurry. The teal-haired man didn't get a chance to say anything more. Floyd waited for them to return, but the one he had dubbed as “Flamefishie”, didn't show for the rest of Crewel’s class.

Their third meeting, occured when Floyd arrived at the empty classroom, early yet again for the third time. He was in a terrible mood, being stuck with Azul’s yammering about customers and the Monstro Lounge. Did he never learn to loosen up? What irritated Floyd even more, were the three students crowding around a certain desk. They snickered loudly as they marked up the poor student’s desk. Ah, what a perfect opportunity to vent a little of his anger.

In a few lanky steps, he was upon the three students. One, was from Savanaclaw, while the other two were from Flamefishie’s dorm. Oh, that somehow made Floyd feel more murderous. His looming presence alone was enough to silence the snickering as the three students turned slowly. Heterochromic eyes glared down at them intensely as he spoke, cheery voice a contrast to the expression on his face, and the terrifying look in his eyes.

“Say… So you're the three that make Flamefishie cry…?” He smiled cruelly and a little unhingedly as he descended. “I'll give you a count to three before I squeeze you all.”

It was safe to say that the three scrambled away without as much as a glance back. Floyd fixed his uniform tie before the sound of books thudding against the floor caught his attention. His head snapped up and he turned, to see the familiar student he had come into contact with a few times before. Their (eye color) eyes were wide, already filling with tears. Were they always crying? Before Floyd could say anything, another thud filled the silence as the crying student dropped their bag and rushed over, throwing their arms around Floyd. The eel man froze but threw his head back and laughed. This was a surprise. One that put him in a good mood. It sounded as if they whispered something to him under their breath. Something he couldn't make out, but decided not to bring up as he took their hand and dragged them out of class.

“We're skipping class, Flamefishie~!” And it seemed like they were okay with that.

There had been buzz around the NRC, about the death of a student. Suicide, the whispering said. They weren't known very well amongst the student body, but that didn't stop the solemn feeling of mourning to choke the air. Floyd had a bad feeling in his gut, suddenly. Wait a second… Months had passed since he saw Flamefishie. It irritated him at first. Were they avoiding him? Why? But soon their absence became a normal occurrence that he had gotten used to. But now, oh, what could he say to that horrible dread he felt sitting in his stomach as he raced to his potionology class?

Floyd stared down at that specific desk; the one that peculiar student occupied for every one of Crewel’s boring lectures. Disbelief ran through him before rage replaced it. But that rage quickly died as he stared blankly. There, sitting atop their desk, was a vase of orchids, soft and white. He knew what this was.

Under the vase, was a letter addressed to him. It was simple, the only embellishment on it being a scribble of an eel on the corner of the envelope. Floyd tore the letter open with slightly shaking hands, unprepared for what he would read.

Many students say you're scary. But… You were so kind to me. Especially that day. I'm so grateful to have encountered someone like you.

So thank you. And goodbye.

It wasn't even signed. Floyd felt his frustration, anger, and sorrow all boil over as he turned and kicked over one of the chairs violently. Was he stupid? He had never even asked them their name. Storming out of the class, he couldn't bring himself to look back, the letter clutched in his hands tightly.

The next few days were like a blur. And before he knew it, he was attending an assembly for that student’s death. It was a blur as well, and he wandered his way around before a hand on his shoulder caught his attention. Floyd flared up, ready to beat someone to a bloody pulp, but stopped when he recognized a familiar shade of (eye color) eyes, looking at him. For a second, he could feel himself grow hopeful before realization crushed him. No, this wasn't his Flamefishie.

“Floyd Leech?” A man’s voice sounded, calm yet laced with hurt and sorrow.

“What's it to you?” He spat this, feeling a bad mood coming on.

The man simply smiled slightly. “I'm… (Full Name)’s older brother.. I just wanted to thank you, for being the reason they smiled so much. (Name) never did much, as far back as I could remember… I don't know what you were to each other, but they seemed alive when they spoke about you.” He seemed to stop, smile faltering before it perked up once more.

“So thank you, for giving them good memories.” Floyd turned in that instant and left, scowl deepening until he found himself far away from everyone. The NRC campus was empty, every student having gone to that assembly. Without the suffocating air of sorrow and sadness, Floyd started to question himself. Question why he cared at all in the first place. They had barely known each other. They'd only encountered each other a handful of times. So why did the sadness eat away at him from the inside? Why did the sorrow burn his eyes so?

Floyd felt a tear hit his hand, followed by another, and another. He couldn't stop the rain clouds that had started to gather round his mismatched eyes. And a realization hit him. About why he cared. Why it hurt like this.

He loved (Name).

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