the write thing

Just a spot to put all of my writing that I care to publish online. A biology student and Legend of Zelda guru who likes fandom way too much. Requests are very welcome. Posting on this blog is sporadic, as its main purpose is for archival. !! please see this post for a disclaimer about gerudo-related writing !! main blog I writing index I about

[kiboeme]

Suspense

Prompt: Undeath

Chiming in late with yesterday’s prompt; today’s is also (maybe) on the way. As for Undeath… I wrote a really sad one. Kind of fucked myself up this time. I highly recommend accompanying with selected music: Listen, Listen. Trigger warnings for death from illness, graphic infected wound, murder, severe depression, and suicide. Please heed the triggers.

Unable are the loved to die. - Emily Dickinson

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[kiboeme]

Day 2

Prompt: The Hunt

“There is no hunting like the hunting of man.” - Earnest Hemmingway

This may well be succeeded by a Day 2.5, as this prompt has produced not one but two fountains of inspiration. This is the warmer one, though I remain incapable of writing a happy ZelGan story of course. Zelda here is approximately 13, while Ganon is in his late teens and has not yet ascended to the rank of Gerudo King that would add  -dorf to his name.

Zelda launched herself through the hedge grow and was running from the moment her small foot hit the ground again. She ignored the scratches the briar thorns left on her skin and the rips then tore on her dress and continued to pelt forward. She plowed into another bush and skidded to a stop on the other side, miraculously staying on her feet despite the abrupt halt. She heaved for breath for a moment as the person she had come to find turned around. He gave her a confused look as he glanced over her tattered form.

“Ganon,” she gasped, her eyes wide and frightened, “you have to run right now!”

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[kiboeme]

Zelgan Week 1

Prompt: Clouded Jewelry

Behold, the fanfiction that was pulled out of my ass during biology and incidentally suits today’s prompt. I seem to have taken the prompt a bit more figuratively than most participants so far. Oh well. Forgive the relative lack of actual shippiness; the setting assumes Zelda and Ganondorf are already in a long-term, stable relationship and explores something else altogether.

And thy deep eyes, amid the gloom, Shine like jewels in a shroud.

“The mythos of the Gerudo in Hyrule is as old as the race itself. Tucked behind a sparse stone fortress nestled deep in the bosom of their homeland, they have always held a certain mystique for the Hyrulian people.

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[derieri]

Bottoming Out

Publishing this was slightly delayed thanks to the earth-shattering developments of the latest chapter (219), but better late than never! I present an angst fic starring Gloxinia and Derieri [ft. the other Ten Commandments]. Forewarning for heavy chapter 204 - 215 spoilers and coarse language.

Reblogs are much appreciated. Constructive feedback is welcome, as are requests! Cross-posted on ff.net.

“Speaking from the ass, what the hell is he doing here?”

“You know, Derieri, one would think that you’d have learned to use your senses by now. Does their magic seem like something the goddesses would associate themselves with?” Zeldris vaulted over the boulder in his path nonchalantly, not bothering to cast a glance over his shoulder at the pair following.

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[derieri]

The Intertwined Strands of Friendship

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GOWTHER!!!! He’s grown so much. I’m so proud of him. What a good boy.

He deserves more than the hasty effort that is this fic, but I’m short on time and wanted to celebrate him somehow. This short is a Tumblr-only exclusive, so please like and reblog!

“Princess Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth turned from the dishes she was cleaning, dish and towel still in her hands, to look at the person who’d spoken. In the entrance to the Boar Hat’s dining room stood Gowther.

“Oh, hello Sir Gowther!” She gave him a smile as she gave the plate in her hands a last swipe, then set it aside. “Is there something you needed?” 

“I would like permission to attempt to style your hair.”

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[derieri]

Her

“I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.”  Melizabeth angst™ drabble. Warning for chapter 223 spoilers. I removed the spoilers because I’m impatient. Please reblog if you read!

He knows her the moment he sees her, each and every time.

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[derieri]

Ever Have I? Never.

Several someones told me to write NnT fic, so I went ahead and wrote some NnT fic. There is a significant shortage of pre-exile Holy Knight Seven Deadly Sins (a.k.a. pre-pie era) in canon and in fandom; here’s my minor contribution toward fixing that.

“Uh-huh, like you’ve ever done anything valuable.”

“And which one of you two has any incredible accomplishments to their name? Don’t tell me the old fart over there is king of the fairy tale clubhouse or something ♪.”

“Don’t aim your underhanded snark at Diane just because she’s right, Ban.”

“Hey Kiiing, I’ve told you where to stuff it before, haaven’t I?”

Meliodas sighed internally. And externally, too.

Keep reading

[kibwrites]

Re: Zelgan, Race, and Self-Critique

It has come to my attention recently that much of the writing I have published pertaining to ZelGan and the Gerudo is extremely problematic. At one point I was under the impression that my work was done with a conscientiousness that would save the writing from being racist. Anyone with a brain knows that isn't how that works.

My understanding and depiction of the Gerudo passed through a screen of Orientalism. One would think that after being learning about Orientalism via a college class on the subject I would be more aware of its role in my perspectives. Instead I apparently discarded everything I learned and continued to write fanfiction that perpetuates racist tropes and ideas. This is inappropriate.

Looking back over my works, especially ones like Paradise Lost, I can pick out imagery, large-scale overarching concepts, and individual unconscious wording choices that contribute to the prevalence of Orientalism in my work. It's everywhere. I am ashamed that I wrote it and then failed to even notice.

Essentially, I have not been remotely as self-critical as I ought to have been.

I hesitate to just erase everything I wrote involving the Gerudo, though perhaps a willingness to do so is part of being more self-critical. Despite the racism inherent in basically all of it, I am proud of the writing I have published. Thus, the purpose of this page on the writing blog and the notice on my sidebar to call attention toward it.

None of my fanfiction but the worst offenders will be removed from this blog (and my fanfiction and AO3 pages). However, anything I wrote before September 2016 now comes with this disclaimer:

I have grown as a writer, I disavow the racism and stereotyping contained in some of my work, I will examine myself and my writing more critically, and I aim to avoid those mistakes in the future.

And I urge everyone, particularly those who produce and consume ZelGan content, to examine themselves and to pledge the same.

[kibwrites]

Paradise Lost

The Hylians retaliated against Ganondorf in the worst of ways. "Neutralizing threats," they called it, but no one knew what was really going on but the Gerudo themselves. By the time of Twilight Princess, nothing is left but the writing on the wall to tell of the vanished Gerudo.

tw: genocide, rape mention, human violence, slavery, death.

My name is Aeva, and I believe that I am the last of my people.

I was born Gerudo, destined through my mother and my own skill to be a warrior. I was proven talented in training, so enthused by my future that I barely ever stopped practicing. When the time came, I passed my Trials in the desert more quickly than any of my peers. Yet when I rose past the rank of Trainee, I found myself back on the bottom of the hierarchy among the Warriors. Despite my excellence, I was nothing beside my Sisters. I was not put out by this, not in the east. I feel like others might wonder, would crinkle their nose and ask how I could care so little for my dedication being relatively for naught. But I never thought about me. I was never disappointed or angry, only proud. Proud of my Sisters' skills, of their dedication to one another and the People they protected. Proud to stand beside them, proud to be worthy of learning from them. I was also amazed, amazed that some day, I could be one of these necessary cornerstones of support to our beautiful desert.

Our creed was firm and unforgiving, just like our home and Mother. Touch not the innocent and slay not the young nor the elderly. Honor our Mother in all ways, and respect the death you prevent and deliver. I remember swearing to the Sand Goddess that I would do this, promising with blood to give my body and spirit to keep her children safe. I recall so clearly how the fire danced like snakes, and we danced with it.

When I close my eyes, I can almost being it all back to life. The color, the sound, the vibrancy of my world. The sands, gold as riches, embraced by the searing blue sky. Hot breeze and the scent of the sun in my nose as I rode on horseback, racing through the dunes like wind just for fun. If I listen carefully, I can hear it too. The sighing breath of the gods in the night, the rough snap on bowstrings and the thud of targets, my language. My language, full and vibrant as the people who spoke it whispered between Youths in the night, called between friends, shouted encouragement to those working, comforting murmurs, song, loud jokes broken by laughter. Only the jokes though.

I can see, smell, taste, hear, feel my life. Everything, everything except their laughter. Untainted by sarcasm or irony or teasing, no joke or funny thing needed to inspire it, the laugh of the Gerudo was pure joy like I've never heard from any other People. It was happy, and impossibly free. Yet despite what I remember about them, I cannot remember a Gerudo laugh. I have forgotten. I've forgotten what it meant to just be joyful, to enjoy this world. I cannot even create one in my head, can't fake one in my own mind. What has become off the Children of the Sand when the last of their kind can't remember how a laugh sounds?

We had no idea that the end of the world was coming for us when it did. Our King went to Hyrule, speaking of a future for our People born of the Hylians' generosity. They had such plenty, we all knew from visits to their lands, and Ganondorf assured us that they would be more than willing to share in their bounty. The whole tribe base him goodbye when he left on the dawn of a Thursday. That night, we celebrated the beautiful future of milk and honey that we were on the cusp of. We danced, we sang, we feasted late into Friday.

On Sunday, my Sisters on the patrol returned panicked and fleeing. Hylian soldiers were at the gate to our valley.

Our tragedy is written on the walls. We tell the stories again and again, trying so hard not to forget. Trying to keep the memories alive so that some day, someone can return and properly give all those who died that day back to the Mother. But we struggle to do this. No words can truly keep that day. Too much of it is trapped in a haze of sorrow, and too few words exist to communicate the absolute fear that permeated our fortress that afternoon. It was unexpected, and we were unprepared. We did not fight them off; how could we have?

There was no war, no battle, no clash on that day. There was only death.

Those of us not seized at the outset fled, retreating deep into our temple hidden in the desert. Only a Gerudo could truly navigate the wasteland that lay between the fortress and our hiding place, we thought. Yet still they found us.  We were in prayer, in a room meant to hold our whole population only half full. With no warning, the altar suddenly exploded, shattering the images of the Sand Goddess carefully carved there into dozens of pieces on the floor. Standing in the hole left by the debris and stepping through it were the soldiers. My Warrior Sisters snarled in righteous rage, drawing their weapons and leaping for the Hylians in defense of their Sisters. Many others ran, but we had sealed the chamber to protect ourselves from the soldiers. And I, I stood transfixed by the Goddess' carved eye lying at my feet stained with a Sister's blood. The very face and home of Mother was to harm us according to the Hylians' will.

We were detained against the wall and forced to watch as they tied the Priestesses and laid them upon pyres built atop the ruins of the altar. They screamed and screamed and screamed, and I clutched my shard of the eye so tightly that its edges cut my palm and fingers. Once they were dead, the soldiers chained us.

It was days before we were allowed to see the ruins of our home. Mere days before they used their whips and chains and spears and brands to force us to throw the bodies of our Sisters into a pit, and then stone by stone dismantle the fortress we once lived in.

Too many died each day. The Gerudo who were compliant lay catatonic as the Hylians bred them, but it was not enough. Our People were hardy because of our spirit, a spirit that had now been broken. There were no instruments of suicide in the depths of the temple where they kept us, but those were not necessary to kill us. The soldiers had orders not to kill, but as they forced us to remake our beautiful Light Temple into a prison for the damned, hunger, thirst, exhaustion, and sorrow did their murder for them.

One soldier eventually told us why we had been sought out and killed. At first we did not believe him, and then when we did not understand. It's too late to be angry about it. It always has been too late for everything. I just want to understand how this was justified. Why were my people slaughtered and my home destroyed? Why am I alone?

No one knows our story but us. This place is still ours, and its walls bear our fate. Our memories are etched in stone there, images of the priestesses burning alive and the death mongers at our gate. Names, names and names and names inscribed anywhere we could fit them. Every surface covered in the names of the dead and the terrible story of how they died.

This place may be damned. This place may be the truest hell ever known to the Gerudo People. This place may be the epitome of our extermination, our Temple desecrated by forced Gerudo hands just to wipe us from the earth.

But I am still here, and I claim that the Gerudo live. Our legendary spirit still resides here, here in the last defiant stroke that was making this hell into a monument to all we lost and all those crushed by the Hylian boot. As the last of us I speak for all the Gerudo, and we defy you, Hylians. We will always be here in this desert. We still will not die. Our goddess lives here in this Arbiter's Grounds and so do our legends and story and names. You failed. We are alive.

[kibwrites]

You, I Keep

Also known as, “The Darkest ZelGan I’ve Ever Written.”  For ZelGan Week’s Monday prompt: Danger and Intrigue. Primarily the danger part. Do not ask me where I got any of this from. It’s not my favorite, but I figured I needed to post something for ZelGan Week, even if it isn’t very good. So here you go.

TW: Death, detailed depictions of violence.

** barely any actual ZelGan sorry **

The flash of glee he felt at the expression on Link’s face was unmatched by any sensation before or since. The boy’s stoic, intense, heroic expression fled his features, mouth hanging open in surprise and what he hoped was fear as Ganondorf’s sword plunged deep into his body. It tore through his back, ripping flesh and shedding blood, then finally crashing through bone until it broke the skin of the Hero’s chest. The Demon King twisted his blade, rending the Hero further. An eerie rattling sound echoed from Link’s chest and he fell, taking Ganondorf’s broadsword to the ground with him. A bloody glob of Gerudo spit joined the growing stain on the worn green tunic in a last show of spite and victory. Lord Ganondorf was ready to gloat. And then his triumph was shattered by a scream.

“LINK!” The Princess shrieked, stumbling over her tattered dress and own limbs as she scrambled toward her fallen Hero.

Ganondorf only smirked at her desperation. It served her right, seeing her friends die and her kingdom fall just as Ganondorf had once been forced to. He watched her with a blank face as she fell to her knees in a pool of Hylian blood. He turned away to survey his new kingdom, disinterested in her spectacle. He had no argument with the displaced princess. She had neither the skill nor the strength to kill him now, for Wisdom’s power had different applications. Which was why the Gerudo King was shocked to hear the sound of metal’s scrape on stone as Zelda took the Master Sword from Link’s cooling grasp.

He turned back around to face her now. Despite how much he wanted to, he could not bring himself to antagonize her with a sardonic smirk. She looked too worn, too angry and anguished in her shredded and bloody dress. She needed two hands to heft the weight of the legendary sword into a threatening pose, but her stance reminded the king that she did, in fact, know how to fight. An indolent smile finally did overtake his lined face as he slowly extended a hand toward her.

“Princess, indulge me.” If she wanted to fight, she could. He understood that itch, that need to deal your wrath, and he would give her that chance. He would fuel her rage until she collapsed at his feet in submission or death. “Come take the hand of your childhood friend.” Ganondorf knew he had struck a nerve when her face twisted.

“How dare you,” she spat. “How dare you come into my kingdom, kill my father, throw the land into chaos and death for seven years, and then hope to call yourself my friend. You betrayed me. You betrayed the goddesses. And for that, it is my responsibility to make you pay.”

Zelda did not seem to feel like waiting for him to respond, running at him in fury with the sword in her hands. Ganondorf barely moved until they were face to face, and even as she moved to swing the blade toward his head he met her eyes in a battle of glares. It was clear to the Gerudo that she had no training with this type of sword. Her clever Sheikah mentor had taught her stealth and shadow magic, the art of using daggers and poison and needles, not war. She knew nothing of how to fight Ganondorf, not with this weapon. Not in this state.

It was too easy for him to slide out of the way of her haphazard swipes. Proper dodges were hardly necessary as he twirled around her blade, not even attempting to defend himself without his own sword as he slowly drew her back across their battlefield.

“Tell me, Princess, did you hate me this much before I took recompense for Hyrule’s slights?” he hissed. “Did I not make it clear to you in my stories of my home what trials we face, and all without aid of the riches of your throne? What right have you to condemn and avenge when I am the judge, when I am the reaper? How dare I? How dare you?”

“You are no king!”

“Oh, but I am a king. I am the King of Retribution and Lord of Annihilation. I have ruled your lands for half the time you’ve been alive, and I have destroyed you.”

“So what of Hyrule, then? Will you obliterate every memory of the land you conquered?”

“I have every right to. But no, there’s one thing and one thing only that I am going to keep.” With those final words he reached for his sword. Unsheathing it from the Hero’s cold form, it took no more than one brief strike to steal the sacred blade from Zelda’s hands. She stared after the skittering blade in a stupor, and that one moment was all the time Ganondorf needed to push her away with his magic. An unseen force threw the princess back, shoving her on to the ground in a tangle of scraped-skinned limbs and grimy fabric. Trembling arms pushed her halfway back up, just in time to turn her head toward the king and see a swift flash as the Master Sword drove toward her.

She was struck much the same way Link had been, her body cut through with a blade. She fell, breath shaking in her chest as she fought to draw breath. Try as she might, wide as her gasping mouth could open, she could not draw in air. While the princess busied herself with breathing, fighting to make up for her severed diaphragm, Ganondorf stalked closer. He knelt beside the girl, his mind flashing back and forth between the gory present and the first time he’d seen her, eleven years old and sleeping in a garden hedge. He was silent until her body went still, and then finally he spoke.

“Hyrule will never lose your lullaby.”

[kibwrites]

The Siren

So this picture just came across my dash. And... what if sirens do not drown out of hate, but for a lack of love that they long for?

  A mermaid found a swimming lad,   Picked him for her own,   Pressed her body to his body,   Laughed; and plunging down   Forgot in cruel happiness   That even lovers drown.            ~William Butler Yeats

tw: drowning

 I have tried, tried so hard to reconcile what I know I want and know I cannot have. I don't remember who I was or how I came to be, but I have seen my sisters created (just as I have seen them destroyed, by propeller or net or poisoned sea). We fall into the water, and then as our human form fades and shrivels in upon us, our true forms awaken. Then our silken tails form and shape a fluke, sinewy muscle smooth over flexing bone, and we can join our family in the eternal sea.  

 For years, I was satisfied. I have seen many many moonrises, and not one of them ceased to strike me with awe. But then one day, the appeal was just.. gone. It happened so suddenly, as one minute I was gazing into the wise face of the luminous moon, and then the next it was an ugly cream pebble marring the velvet sky.

 I don't know what changed. I don't know. The next day was when I saw him.

 His body was different from mine. Human, since as far as I could tell he had no tail, and wrapped head to toe in cumbersome fabrics. He took them off to swim on occasion, and even though all he had were slender little paws to push him forward, he was quick and agile. And playful—he reminded me of a sea lion. He seemed to have a great affinity for the sea, dipping in and out of it every chance he got, taking his small boat into the water at least once a day just to sit, enjoy the radiant ocean sun, and be lulled by our mother's gentle waves. He often smiled at nothing more than the world around him, delight on his face at the singing froth against his hull and the call of a gull. I am not certain just what love is, but as far as I know... this was it. This was love.

 My sisters warned me. Oh, how they warned me. They had tried the same tricks before on boys they, too, adored. If a human girl could become one of the seafolk, why could a human boy not do the same? Especially one such as mine, whose love for our mother ocean matched and surpassed some of our own. Wouldn't she bless him, welcome her into her family with a gentle caress of the currents and breeze? He had the songs around him, the marks above him. I knew. I knew he belonged. Yet he didn't belong to me. Our mother ocean wanted him for something more.

 I took his hands in mine, tugging him gently deeper into the quiet mystery of our depths. His eyes were pools of wonder, round mollusks hungrily absorbing all that I had to show him on the ocean floor. His face was paling even as he followed me along, patiently waiting for me to guide him. He had only one moment of panic, I tried to make sure of that.

 And then I waited, waited as we were instructed to do for induction, prepared to be the first thing he saw when he opened his reshaped eyes to see his beloved waters anew. I waited for him. One more day for the transformation was nothing on a level with my ages of time remaining. I waited for him.. for a long time.

 It was midday the second day that I saw a small fish come and nibble at his fingers. I shooed it away before taking his hand in my own. We were both cool, but the net of our fingers and press of his palm felt so right slipped into mine. I was still so infatuated with him. I began to sing, murmuring sweet verses and promises to coax him awake. The song of another siren was guaranteed to bring another seafolk return to the surface of their mind. I sang for hours, and then soon my lilting tunes became a quiet wail. I curled my tail around his legs, willing them to fuse and shimmer with scaled. I wrapped myself around him, praying to our mother that she take him into her children. And I whispered into his ear, first gently, then shaking his shoulders and shouting all I knew how to say in his language.

 "Wake up! Wake up!"

[kibwrites]

ZelGan oneshot: "Do you think me less... attractive... than the boy, Princess?"

Zelda looked up from her papers, seeming a bit startled by the question. She looked at Ganondorf carefully for a long moment before tapping her empty pen nib on the table a few times and putting it back in the ink bottle.

“Why do you refuse to say his name?” she asked, her voice pleasant. It was the Gerudo’s turn to pause, his jaw working a bit as he tried to come up with an answer to placate her. They’d had this conversation several times before, and it always ended with a frustrated Princess Zelda he hated to deal with.

“Zelda,” he began slowly, “you know our history together… over the ages.” She picked up her papers and stacked them up. Ganondorf licked his lips before continuing. “Would you so easily speak the name of your assassin without disdain? I know you like him, and so I keep his name out of my mouth.” He sighed internally at the sight of her facial expression, knowing what came next. He always gave the same argument, and she always had the same answer.

“That is a foolish reason. Your refusal to speak his name seems to me more aggravating than to say his name with the hatred of a grudge. Besides, this is not the same Hero that has destroyed you in the past. He bears his name and appearance, and perhaps his personality, but he is not the same aggressor.”

She stood up from behind the desk and walked over, coming up to stand in front of Ganondorf’s chair. She extended her hand. “You know this. He would never attack you.”

Ganondorf growled and stood up, pushing her to the side. “I am not concerned about being attacked.”

“Why then? Why can you not let go of your anger?” She followed him, determined to get a satisfactory answer. She was tired of never having her best friend and her lover in the same room at the same time.

The king whirled, his face drawn in frustration. “You still have not answered my first question, Princess.” Zelda’s nose wrinkled with distaste. She shot him a withering glance before turning around and going back to her papers.

“It is an unfair comparison, Ganondorf.” She spoke without turning around. “You both have a distinct type of handsomeness and appeal.” She gathered them up again, straightening them out once more before laying them atop a ribbon. “Link bears the typical Hyrulian standard of an attractive appearance. In comparison, you have a very foreign appearance, an exotic appeal that very few have and fewer appreciate. You are exciting.”

“’Exciting,’” he echoed flatly. “So you find me attractive for the fact that I can sate your inner rebel.”

She frowned for a moment before nodding. “In part, yes. I will not lie to you—I enjoy the looks we get when you dance with me. No one seems to comprehend that a Gerudo, too, can be civilized in our ways.” She tied the ribbon neatly, shaping a bow and smoothing out the tails before continuing. “But that is not the only reason that I chose you over Link, Ganondorf.” He grunted skeptically, folding his arms across his chest as she picked up her bundle.

“Really? Do tell.” She scowled at him as she walked toward the door, taking her time to formulate words.

“You do not fit the description of what I was raised to believe a good man should be. In fact, you are most likely the furthest departure from this standard that has ever been permitted to stay in the castle. Yet you are easily one of the best men for me I have ever been acquainted with.” She paused at the door and looked back at him. “Would you open the door, already?”

Ganondorf smirked despite himself as he moved forward to do so. The princess stayed silent until they were on their way down the hall.

“You are very different from the men I live around and associate myself with. Whereas they are noblemen convinced of women as a lower species or common men who treat me as a precious heirloom, they are distant and hesitant. You, on the other hand, are not. You are quite brash, and self-confident to the point of an excruciating arrogance. You are aggressive in your ways, but more than anything, you respect me and my person more than almost any other I have ever known.” She paused for a moment. “You do not fear to break rules and customs with reckless abandon, and you refuse to allow yourself to be cloistered behind formality and protocol. You have pride, and you do not treat me as if I were fragile spun glass.”

She slowed her walk until she came to a stop, turning her body slightly to look over her shoulder at the massive Gerudo behind her. He looked at her impassively, his usual half-scowl concealing any of his true emotions. Zelda, too, had such a mask, though she tried to save it for diplomatic situations rather than when it was just the two of them. It was disorienting, she thought, to not be able to read someone’s thoughts from their face.

“Though it is far from unappealing, it is not your appearance that draws me to you.”

Both of them were quiet for a long moment, staring each other down. Ganondorf spoke first.

“I am glad that you like me, Princess.” He stepped closer, fitting his hands around her waist. She was so slender and small compared to him, his fingertips met at the small of her back. He used his grip to press her against the wall behind her, hoisting her a few inches in the air. His face came near hers, not quite touching. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

She smiled coyly. “I didn’t?” She batted her eyelashes, just the picture of innocence. Ganondorf’s scowl broke for just a moment.

“No, you didn’t,” he rumbled, returning her smile with one of his rare ones.

“Perhaps if you released me, I might tell you.”

“Mmm, yes… but I prefer this.” Ganondorf gently pressed his lips against hers, and Zelda returned the kiss. It was a long, slow kiss, but a chaste one, and when Ganondorf pulled away with a smirk on his face, Zelda seemed a little stunned. It was daring to have such a display of affection in an open hall like this one. Far too many of the noblemen on the council would be revolted by it.

“Ganondorf…” she breathed. He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Princess?”

“You are infinitely more attractive than the boy.”             

[kibwrites]

Shard of Nightmare

Shard of Nightmare: Prologue

AN: Perhaps the opening to a future fanfiction?

My name is Zelda. I am a princess, the heiress to the throne of Hyrule and the guardian of the Nightmare Shard. It is aptly named—as my magic teacher Rauru told me countless times, this small, warped piece of metal contains part of the soul of the Great Evil, a walking nightmare that has plagued my kingdom since the dawn of time. As next in line for the throne, it was my daily duty to travel back into the bowels of the castle to check on the Nightmare Shard deep in the weapons vault. I was never to touch it, Rauru warned, for the Great Evil was constantly seeking a way to escape the shard and make another bid for the destruction of the earth. If he found a young, vital body filled with magic and the blood of the gods such as me, he could consume my soul with his power.

For many years, I abided by Rauru’s countless rules for handling and caring for the Nightmare Shard. Peek into the room and check that it was still there, then walk the rest of the way in. Cast a ward on the door and magically scan the room for presences other than the Shard and myself. Approach the shrine, but do not go within less than five paces of it. Do not ever touch. Circle the Shard once, twice, thrice, and then exit the room. Remove your wards, complete another magical scan, and then re-engage the Sages’ magical traps leading to the room as you leave the vault. Then you may continue with your life.

  Day after day, week after week for years. And then, one day, I was angry with my father…

[kibwrites]

Taking Oneshot Requests

Name a character(s) and a simple plot or situation, and I’ll see what I can do with it! Some of my favorite fanfictions: ‘Do You Come Here Often?’ and ‘Of the Land and Of the Sea’ have spawned from requests.

Just answer this or send me an ask to request!

Please?

[kibwrites]

Friends, Fronds, and Forgotten Boxes

A oneshot written for ~Humanoid-Magpie for winning the Zora Realm Armor Contest. She asked me to write a oneshot featuring the shenanigans of her Sea Dragon Zora OC, Kia, and her little sea dragon friend.

Her name is Kia. She's very laid back and goes with the flow about most things and friendly but tends to keep to herself. (feel free to add any other characteristics you like so long as they don't contradict the ones I've given you. (I haven't really done much with her))  Maybe a simple cute oneshot or drabble about the shenanigans of her and her little Sea Dragon (they aren't sea horses) friend in the picture? 

“Boo!”  The tiny little sea dragon jumped out of the sea fronds, startled from his hiding place.  He let out a squeal as he swam away from her, spiraling through the water with his fins flared out in surprise and alarm.  Kia laughed aloud before following after him, the bubbles streaming from her nose and lips tickling her cheeks and neck as they slipped over and around them.  She chased him in circles around the towering pillars of seareed, flashing over and around the small rocks supporting the reef. 

Ryu bleated happily as he found a crevasse in the coral.  He flattened his body and slid into the crack, barely managing to turn and face the entrance in time to meet Kia’s frustrated stare.  Kia narrowed her eyes, but a smile on her lips betrayed her mock seriousness.

“Hey, that’s not fair!”  Ryu’s tongue flicked forward, a brief flash of metallic blue against the algae-green rock.  Kia gasped melodramatically.  “You little!  Why I oughta!”

The other zora were going about their daily business, slowly trolling along the sea floor with hands skimming through the rippled sand in a search for crabs and little shellfish.  Technically, Kia was supposed to be joining them, and her job was marked by the loosely woven bag that floated off her shoulder.  They never counted on her to be helping them, though.  This time, like all the others, Kia had run into one of her numerous sea creature friends and taken off from her job to go play.

Kia wedged her fingers into the hole, trying to wrap the webbing around Ryu’s little body and pull him from the crack. “Come out, you goof! You’re no fun when you’re hiding in there.” The sea dragon merely laughed, a high-pitched trill accented with a stream of bubbles coming from his mouth, and wriggled from her grasp with one fluid twist of his body.

He shot out of the top of the crack and immediately darted away. Kia paused for a moment with her mouth hanging open and hand still wedged in the crack. She shook herself before crying out happily and following after him, once again beginning to swim frantically around rocks and seareeds and coral in pursuit.

“Where do you think you’re going?!”

Ignoring Kia’s protests, the sea dragon kept going. They chased one another further and further away from the other zora. Kia just kept laughing as she pursued Ryu, kicking up sand from the bottom of the sea and kicking off the sea fronds that wrapped themselves around her limbs in attempts to hold her down.

The terrain was beautiful by any standard; it was a sunny day up above, and they were shallow enough for almost all of the sunlight to filter down into the water, illuminating the brilliant colors of the coral reef.  There were, of course, the pale blue-green and grey rocks that formed the foundation of everything. On top of them, however, was the true majesty: a vast forest of corals, from the netlike sea fans and branching plumes to the dish-like plate coral that protruded from the rock like platforms. Tall fronds of the leafy seareeds waved in the current, greeting Kia and Ryu as they zipped past. Over and around they swam, taunting the shell blades and toados, paying little mind to where they were headed.

Eventually they left the reef behind, swimming instead over a blanket of rippled white sand. If she squinted, Kia could have still seen the blurry lumps of blue, green, and orange that marked her fellow zora, but they were far away from them now. Neither of them particularly noticed how far they had gone, however, and just kept swimming.

Suddenly, Kia threw herself upright, stopping her forward motion almost completely with one flick of her fins.

“Ryu, stop!”

The sea dragon slowed as well, though much less abruptly than his friend. He made a chirruping sound, turning back toward her and canting his head to the side. Why had she stopped?

“We’re on the dropoff,” she said, just a hint of trepidation in her voice. Zora could survive in the deeper, open ocean—one of her neighbors had swum across the whole sea to visit Calatia, or so he said—but Kia had always been warned against it. She was faster than most zora, but even then, they were far from the biggest or meanest creatures swimming in the sea. Kia herself had seen the toadpolis and octoroks on the surface of the water, ready to attack anyone who poked their head above the waves. Even those were far from the most dangerous things out there; she had been told countless stories of dexihands snatching zora and throwing them against rocks or of bari and biri electrocuting anyone who came within reach of their slimy tentacles. And that wasn’t even considering the massive predatory fish that could swallow someone in a single bite and never think anything of it.

It could have been that the terrible stories weren’t true. Or it could have been that Ryu wasn’t smart enough to have stories like that circulating among his family and friends. Regardless, he clearly shared none of Kia’s concerns about the open water. He shook his head and backed away from Kia, coaxing her out slowly.

Kia followed despite her fear, drifting away from the sunny, sandy water foot by foot until she hovered in the open ocean, nothing beneath her webbed feet for miles but open water. Quiet noises drifted up to them from below, deep swooping noises of bubbles and the sharper thudding vibrations of a huge shell slamming shut. Kia swallowed anxiously.

“Ryu… this could be dangerous,” she whispered. The sea dragon shook his head and scooted further away from her. Kia cast a glance back at the dropoff, not moving. “I don’t think we should go out there any more than we already have.”

Ryu tossed his head again, beckoning her once more. With a last glance backward, Kia began following him.

She stopped often on their little journey, but as they continued and nothing jumped out of the depths to kill them, she became more relaxed. She never went back to their playful chasing, but eventually started looking around them with leisure instead of frantically tossing her gaze from side to side as Ryu began guiding her deeper into the water. It was beautiful. The way the sunlight filtered through the deepening water and played on her skin, the ethereal mystery of whatever lay below… She liked it out here more than she had thought she would.

Eventually, she noticed the sea floor beginning to gradually approach them again. First the water gained a strange beige tint, then the patterns on the sand from rocking water became apparent. Kia tilted her head as a dark mass began coming into shape in the distance of the water. Far too curious for her own good, she began swimming more quickly, outpacing Ryu until he caught up.

Slowly, the object came into focus. Bit by bit, Kia realized what it was—a shipwreck! An old one, too, if the amount of algae and seareed growing out of its rotting berms was any indication of age.

“Ryu, is this where you were taking me?” she breathed. She slowed herself to a stop, hovering in the water to gaze at the wreck. It was a rather large ship. She couldn’t tell where it was from, as the flag on the mast had long since rotted away. The ropes were mostly gone, too, all but for a matted mass of them hung by the stern. Its wooden planks had rotted away, leaving gaping holes in the hull big enough for her to swim through.

Ryu squealed in affirmation before darting closer to the wreck. He was too excited this time to make sure Kia followed him, but she didn’t need any encouragement to. She ran her hands over everything, touching the half-disintegrated wheel, tracing the patterns of gilded gold pressed into most of the surfaces, twining her body around the mast and wiping away the limning of mold and algae that was growing over a compass dropped on the deck. She followed the grain of the wood until she had to turn upside down to continue it along the edge of the boat, swimming right alongside the boat’s broken hull until she reached one of the larger gaps and slipped inside.

It hadn’t been a fancy boat, and she ended up in what must have been the kitchen. A huge metal contraption sat opposite her, metal spikes protruding from either end to hold a spit. It must have been where they set the fire to cook their meals. Long, broad wooden boards shelved from all of the walls, and just underneath them were rotting barrels that once would have held all manner of things. Kia shooed a mass of skippyjacks away from one, revealing a handful of bones resting at the bottom of the barrel with a coating of lime on each. Just above her, the rusting blades of knives were haphazardly piled in a corner, waiting for their cook to return to them. Pots, pans, and kettles were also scattered around, many of them already eaten through by rust and metal-consuming fish.

Whoever had cooked in this kitchen had it organized once, she thought. And it all just got thrown around all over the place when they wrecked… Now they’ll never be able to come back and clean it up again.

She was done with the kitchen.

Ryu squealed after her as Kia swam through the open door into the next room. It was big and empty apart from a few more skippyjacks making their way through the empty portholes. There was another door—two doors, actually—but when Kia tried them, the wood had swollen so much that they wouldn’t budge, and it wasn’t rotten enough yet to just give way beneath her hands. She made a loop around the room on her way back to the galley, not intending to find anything.

But lo and behold—settled into a corner of the room was a small metal box, still sealed soundly and mostly without rust. She reached out and carefully picked it up, turning in her hands for inspection.

Ryu finally came in from the other room. He plopped himself down on Kia’s shoulder with a sound of exhaustion, ready to go back to the reef.

“Just a minute. Look at what I found,” Kia breathed. The sea dragon sat up to look at it skeptically, shaking his head and chuffing in exasperation. Apparently, he didn’t think it was worth anything. Kia, on the other hand, was desperately curious. Unlike every other metal thing on the boat, it hadn’t rusted. Even more interesting, it was locked shut by a tiny little padlock snapped around the hinges. Ryu made another noise, clearly annoyed. Kia frowned.

“This is important! And really cool! You should be just as interested as I am.” The sea dragon shook his head pointedly. Nope. He was not interested in the least. Kia sighed. “Fine. We’ll take it back to the reef and look at it there, okay?” Without waiting for his agreement, she slipped the box into her bag. Ryu, too, bubbled off of her shoulder and nestled himself into the soft cloth pouch. She smiled fondly at him before she began swimming away from the shipwreck, headed back to her fellow zora.

Her trip back wasn’t any more eventful than the one they took going toward the shipwreck, though she did pass a school of toona and thought she might have seen a neptuna or a loovar in the distance. She didn’t waste any time in opening her bag, kicking Ryu out of it, and pulling out the box. Ryu had been sleeping, and he made an annoyed trilling sound as he swam out of the bag. After a few minutes of waking up, he started nudging Kia and dancing out of reach of her hands. She wasn’t reacting, though, too busy inspecting the box she had found. He kept trying, even nibbling on her skin and fins to try and get her to come play with him. Still, she ignored him. Fed up with her overzealous interest in the container, Ryu tossed his rays and swam away to go play with other, more fun friends. He didn’t get far before he came back and set himself down on her shoulder again, resigned to watching her figure out the mystery of the box.

Here where there was plenty of sunlight, the box shone brightly. Now she could see that it had a delicate engraving on the top of it, some sort of Hylian she didn’t understand and a picture of what looked like an albatross. It just made less and less sense to her.

She tried opening it without removing the lock, grabbing the top and bottom sections of the box and prying them apart with all her might. But it was closed tight, and her best efforts hadn’t even managed to make the seal budge by a hair. Kia tugged at the lock with her fingers, doing her best to pull it off. It wasn’t made of the same material as the box, and there were small spots of rust dotted across its surface. With enough force, it would surely break.

When her fingers weren’t enough, Kia started banging it against the rocks she was sitting on. Ryu jumped off her shoulder to watch, fins fluttering. After a few good, hard whacks, the lock snapped.

It flew away from the box and from Kia, propelled through the water by the force of the blow that detached it. Ryu jumped to the side just in time to avoid being cleaved in half by the zooming piece of metal, and he showed his agitation quite clearly through a series of loud, sharp chattering sounds and heavily narrowed eyes.

“Great Nayru!” Kia cried when she realized what had almost happened to her friend. She brought her hand up to her mouth, intending to cover her gasp with her palm but instead almost hitting herself in the face with her box. “I’m so sorry, Ryu!”

The sea dragon made a few more angry noises before he settled back down, coming to perch himself on her shoulder again.

“Alright,” Kia breathed, sitting back down on the rocks. “Let’s see what’s inside this thing.”

She flicked the latch open with her finger and began slowly prying the box apart. Something was putting up a good fight on the inside of it to keep the thing closed. A rush of bubbles came when the first crack appeared, and immediately the box flew open the rest of the way. There had been an air seal inside of it, of all things. Even after years and years of being miles underwater, the box had been closed so tightly that no water had entered it at all. For a moment, Kia felt a little ashamed that she had soiled such purity of air. Then her curiosity took over, and regret was replaced by wonder.

Nestled on a soft cloth cushion in the middle of the box was a trio of pearls, one blue, one pink, and one faintly green. Next to them was a handwritten note, scribbled by someone with absolutely awful handwriting. Kia didn’t have long to read it before the water washed all of the ink away, but she thought it said something along the lines of ‘For my Princess. –You Know Who’.

[kibwrites]

Sweet Dreams

Lana x ZeldaU Link oneshot. Written on a request from Instagram. 

It had been a long time since she’d seen him in her ball, many days of watching uneventful happenings throughout Hyrule with a dispassionate, detached sort of gaze. It was difficult to care much longer; the Triforce was safely within her incorruptible grasp, Link had completely demolished Ganon and lead the Hyrulian army to rid their kingdom of monsters, and then everything had settled down into quiet. There was no need for her to be watchful any more, not over this world.

So, the Guardian of Time had turned her gaze away from the world of warriors and toward the other veins of time. Link and Zelda had seen hints of it when her dark alter-ego, Cia, had drawn their favorite timelines together. Even after Ganondorf and his loyal minions from those eras had been defeated, Lana was deeply tempted to keep the four paths together.

But there was a certain balance to the worlds that the goddesses had built, and though they didn’t know it yet, Link, Zelda, and Impa had momentarily erased their counterparts from the other worlds. It was only a matter of time before the wayward spirits found their homes in the new bodies and drove all three of them mad. So she had been forced to split them, saying goodbye to friends she already knew so well from watching and severing any tie to this world’s Link she had remaining. She would have been lying if she said she weren’t grateful for an excuse to ignore this world for a while. In all honesty, it made her sad.

There was a new storm brewing in a different world. Lana could feel the need for her to call the Hero building just as that world’s Link did, though he wouldn’t understand what it was until later. When it was his time, she would send a message, a little whisper in his heart that he could choose to follow or ignore. Different Links had chosen different paths, but either way, it would lead him to his destiny.

Desperate for a distraction, she did something she had never done before: she followed the call from its source—her—and found Link before she needed to.

He was young, not quite as young as some of the other Heroes when she had called them to their task, but still slightly younger than the Link of her world. Perhaps thirteen instead of sixteen. Even so, she could tell already that he, like every other Hero, would grow to be handsome. He had a rebellious streak not unlike the mischief that the Minish Hero had dancing in his eyes and was growing his shaggy hair long. His goal was to pull it back into a ponytail, and he was almost there. Lana glanced into the future and noted with delight that he would be able to when his quest began.

She felt the painfully familiar little tug on her heart at the sight of him. They were kindred souls, constantly heeding the same unavoidable whisper of fate, filled with an open heart and wide grin, and simply yearning to help other people. Despite Hylia’s selfish need to ‘pay him back’ for serving her by letting him wed her descendants, it was Link and Lana who were soulmates. Where was that sweet princess, anyway?

Lana cast out her net of senses, seeking her would-be-rival. She didn’t have an ounce of envy or malice left in her after Cia’s stripping, but she was curious how they would look as a couple.

A delighted sound halfway between a squeal and a laugh echoed through the temple when she located ‘Her Highness’. Zelda… Zelda was his sister! His sister! She was a year older than him and in line to take the throne, but their dynasty had been disrupted as children by the Evil Link was to fight. Now they lived unaware of their past as simple cuccoo keepers and goatherds.

Sister! You could not marry your sister! Finally… Lana finally had a teeny tiny window of chance

When dusk fell that night on their household, Lana’s watchful eye retuned to Link. She had the ability to enter his world if she wanted to. Hylia herself had requested that the Guardian keep watch over her Heroes over time, and Lana most often had appeared as a Great Fairy to heal Link. And, she had to admit, occasionally try to flirt with or seduce him. Tonight, she wouldn’t even need to be corporeal. No, she could do better.

She closed her eyes and settled her palm on top of her ball, drawing power from its well-used surface. Magic drifted up her arm in pale blue ethereal ribbons. Lana willed them to coalesce around her body until she was bound tightly in a one-layered wrap of enchantment. The magic contracted, and she vanished from her world. A tendril of it reached into the other world to snatch away the sleeping Link’s consciousness as Lana pulled them both to the Battleground of the Hero.

It was a land of suspension, hanging somewhere between the physical worlds the Guardian could see and the Sacred Realm that she couldn’t. Once, it had been the small section of the Silent Realm that held the Triforce during the Sky Era. It remained the last Silent Realm undarkened by the hatred that turned the rest of it to Twilight. Only the Hero and divine spirits like herself were granted access. Often, Heroes had rested here before moving forward to reincarnation.

There was a strange moment of recognition when her eyes met Link’s crouching on one knee on the ground. The two of them were the only ones there, surrounded on all sides by an empty sky and reflective, watery ground. Lana already knew him, of course, but he seemed to have some subconscious inkling whom she was. She wished she could explain more thoroughly, but he couldn’t know anything before it was time. Instead, she cut right to the point.

"Link," she said softly, extending her hand to the at-least-mildly-frightened boy, "have you ever kissed a girl before?" Open-mouthed, he shook his sandy head. He stood up properly as she came closer, and she noticed with no small amount of pleasure that they were almost exactly the same height. She took his hand, carefully checking him for any signs of alarm. He wasn’t afraid at all. In fact, he was welcoming his advances. For a moment, Lana wondered if he thought he was having some kind of wet dream.

Then she was close, very very close, and Link’s hand was instinctually slipping around her waist to holder against himself with a hand on the small of her back. It was only a dream for him, but Lana could feel his warmth seeping into her and smell his earthy scent of heather and grass. She tipped her head back, leaning to put their noses a hair’s width apart. “Would you like to?” she breathed.

No Link had ever been a talkative fellow, and this one was no exception. All of them preferred to communicate with expressions and actions rather than words.

Lana could barely contain a small sigh of pleasure when his lips reached forward to meet hers. It was tentative, hesitant from inexperience. She didn’t have much practice either, but she responded enthusiastically, linking her own hands together around his torso and pressing their faces together.

She pulled away from him only when she was about to asphyxiate. Both of them wanted more, she could tell; Link continued peppering soft kisses on her forehead and scalp as he stroked her back, all but managing to coax a coo from the blissful sorceress. But if they went all the way now… well, there would be no reason for him to be excited when she came back.

[kibwrites]

Taking Oneshot Requests

Name a character(s) and a simple plot or situation, and I'll see what I can do with it! Some of my favorite fanfictions: 'Do You Come Here Often?' and 'Of the Land and Of the Sea' have spawned from requests. Just answer this or send me an ask to request! Please?