So I’m replaying Gotham Knights again and I’m doing a full Jason run
And I just got his knighthood and remembered how stupid it is. And like how they build it, it doesn’t look like he’s about to use the Lazarus pit to start jumping on air😭
And so I paused the game and was like, “what would make more sense for his knighthood to be” and my brain immediately said “Spartan Rage” and uh YES???
It’s how the game builds it that I think it’d make more sense, and be cooler, if Jason got a Spartan Rage thing going.
Not only that, but his storyline is all about trying to get the others to understand that he’s not gonna go on a murder spree any second and that he’s controlled now. So I think it’d be cool to see how basically getting a Spartan Rage effects how he sees himself even if it is only via cutscenes
And then my mind went to my #1 question about this game: “Where is Damien???”
And I now I’m thinking about just rewriting Gotham Knights😭
I COULD ADD SO MUCH THAT WOULD GIVE THE STORY A LITTLE MORE SUBSTANCE AUGH😭
It’s based on the idea of “what if one of the Champions were Shrine of Ressurrectioned instead of Link” I hope you enjoy the first chapter :)
The wind rushed in his ears as he twisted and turned and dodged and ducked. It was giving him no time to think! No time to even draw his bow!
His beak pressed painfully against itself as the assault continued.
Its mask looked like it held eight eyes. Seven yellow, and one the same as the crawling machines that terrorized the surface. The same things that tried to shoot him down on his way to his Divine Beast. When he had arrived at Rito Village, Medoh’s usual blinding blue curled into an obnoxious pink. Her gears turned the wrong way, the creaking unfamiliar to his automaton.
In all of her splendor, Divine Beast Vah Medoh had been taken over by the wretched hands of the all-consuming Calamity Ganon.
But, damnit, he was a champion! He was chosen by the very King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule himself! All of that time in the flight range, trying to prove to everyone that he wasn’t just a sad orphan! That he wasn’t complacent! Everything he did to earn this Hyrulian blue sash! Everything he did to earn Vah Medoh! It couldn’t all be for nothing, right?
So why? Why couldn’t he make a dent in this cursed blight? Why did none of his bombs wound the pulsing black flesh? Why did its pink blood refuse to leak from the punctures of his arrows? And why did his dread spike every time a beam flew his way?
He was the fastest Rito of them all, that’s why he was a champion. Because no Rito, not even any of the ancient sages, could top his speed or ability with the bow. He was different! He couldn’t be like those before him.
He couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t be forgotten! He wouldn’t be like Medli, who is only known by word of mouth! He wouldn’t be erased from the history books of the world! He’d have his own page in the future that shit on everyone who doubted him!
“Shit!” A blinding beam shot out of its eye and Revali took a sharp turn. Right under him, was the terminal. The heads on the four Divine Beasts rising from it. It was supposed to be blue, but just like all of Vah Medoh’s veins, it was the Calamity’s pink blood. It coarsed through every bit of her. Her wings followed its direction. But in the inside of the erected heads of the mechanical beasts was a button. A button that called for help.
He winced even at the thought. Revali, the only hero of Hyrule that called for help when facing the threat he was told that he would face. The pathetic rito that had to beg for help in Hyrule’s biggest time of need.
He was bombarded by beams from the device that replaced the blight’s right hand. He dived, just narrowly missing the terminal. He curved around it and the missiles careened into a pillar. It crumbled into pieces, falling to Vah Medoh’s back like a landslide on a road.
“Stop destroying her!” The rage that bubbled in his chest died down immediately, as he finally landed so that the terminal shielded him from the assault blasts.
That was when he heard it. Three short beeps, three long, and another three shorts. A call for help.
And the jingle it played had the light undertone of the flute. The instrument of the Zora. Mipha needed help too.
He looked off into the distance, though the clouds Medoh flew through covered his sight. For a second, he pictured her face, her red scales glistening in the sunset. Then he saw Daruk, the orange rock he called his skin caked with dirt after he rolled on the ground for so long. Then Urbosa, her clothes so full of color along with her bright green eyes and her ruby hair. Then the princess, ever the instructed, never the instructor.
Then, of course, there was Link. If not for the guardians or the Divine Beasts, would he have had to face this horror alone? Would he have had to turn his sword to this demon with shaky legs? Would his blue eyes be able to face this death?
Another blast on the terminal.
He was going to find Link after this and smuggle a noble pursuit to drink in his face.
Yeah, Revali thought, a smile gracing his face, I’m gonna find him after this.
The beeping from the terminal stopped just as Revali caught his breath. His head snapped to the button in the middle of the terminal. “What?” Then he cursed his worry. Surely Urbosa or Daruk answered her call!
Then another signal started, this one with an undertone of drums. The instrument of the gorons. Daruk was calling for aid.
But Daruk was the closest to Mipha. How could he still be in his Divine Beast if she just finished calling for help only seconds ago.
<em>Damnit Revali! Focus on your fight!</em> He tried to pull himself out of his spiral. And he took back to the sky. The clouds were dense and he couldn’t see too far off of Vah Medoh’s side. They were in Hebra, the peak hundreds of feet under him definitely.
He twisted in the air, his heart pounding in his ears. His feathers tingled and he could very intensely feel the rush of the wind against them.
Then, finally, an opening. The blight curled itself into a ball of blue light, the same blue that Medoh’s circuits used to shine, and moved across the back of the bird automaton.
The terminal’s beeping hadn’t ceased, the methodical beat of the impending doom of his college, his friend, twisted inside Revali’s head. As he was finally able to cock his bomb-tipped arrow, he thought of the smile of the goron champion, the way his voice always carried, the way he’d lift children like they were nothing, and the way he called Revali his brother and slammed those rocky hands onto his back, claiming it was just a nudge.
And he began to regret those snarky comments, or when he bragged and flaunted.
What if he never got to apologize to Daruk? What if he could never apologize to Mipha? What of Urbosa? Of the Princess? Of Link? What of him?
He let his arrow fly, aiming for the circular blue eye. And just like always, it hit its mark.
The blight screeched, slumping over. “Yes!” Relief rushed over Revali as he wasted not even a second to knock and shoot six more arrows, shooting three at a time.
And then it rose again, its head turning fully around. And, with another screech, a tornado roared only feet in front of him.
He flapped his wings quickly, but not quick enough. The gale of swirling wind caught one of his wings as he was escaping and threw him across Medoh’s back.
He lurched down in a dive from the wind and fell on one of his wings. He let out a cry as he rolled off of the injured arm.
When he opened his eyes, he only had a second to leap out of the way of a wave of blue missiles.
That led him to the terminal.
His wing was messed up, there was no way that he could fly in this condition. That meant he couldn’t fire arrows either. And that only meant one other thing.
He needed help. He needed help or he would die here. Alone, inside the clouds.
And the terminal went silent again, the drum beat dying with Daruk’s signal. A cry broke from Revali’s throat as he slammed down on the button in the middle of the terminal.
The light clicks of the blight’s blue eye grew quicker as a red dot pointed at Revali’s chest.
“NO!” He pressed down on the button again and again, begging someone to just come already.
He leaped for cover behind the terminal as the explosion shook him. The blight turned into another blue orb and teleported right in front of him.
The melody of three beeps came back, this time with an undertone of an accordion. The sound of home. The sound of the small rito children flying up the spiraling flights of stairs and hitting whoever was in their way because they didn’t know how to dodge yet. The sound of frying fish in the afternoon and laughing over getting popped by hot oil. The sound of wind blowing through your feathers at the high perch of Rito Village.
His home was calling for him from so many miles away and he couldn’t reach for it. The place that raised him cried his name, begging him to return home like a mother would to her son that was leaving for war.
Except her son would never come back and he knew it. And on the battlefield, he’d cry for his mother right before he took his last breaths.
He ran for the side. He ran for his home. He ran for his calling mother. But the bullet got him at the edge. It sliced at his side, his midnight blue feathers flying with his flesh.
And he tipped over the side. And he fell, and fell, and fell.
The clouds didn’t disperse as he plummeted. He could be ten feet away from the ground or hundreds and he wouldn’t know.
His wings flailed on their own, trying to catch the draft he always created in moments like this.
His gale that was like no other. His gale that was supposed to save him. His gale that failed him and his valor.
And he fell, and fell, and fell, his tears speeding up his face and freezing in the air surrounding him.
Revali saw the piercing blue eyes of the boy he called his rival in his mind. He looked down on Revali, asking him if this was all the courage he could muster. Asking him if this would be how his life ended.
Like a shark with cut fins, dying in the same place that it was supposed to be the lord of.
And as Revali closed his eyes, he said yes. He saw the red scales of the zora princess smiling at the goron champion, her fang-like teeth unfitting of her small stature. He saw Daruk next to her, his grey hair waving as he shook his head.
Daruk caught sight of Revali and his smile faded. Mipha looked too and her head hung low.
Daruk stepped forward and held his hand out. When Revali hesitated, he nodded towards his hand. He was asking Revali to trust him.
Revali looked away and reached his hand out to Daruk.
I also wrote this in June of ‘25😭 I’m just trying to fully catch myself up on this writing blog-
I upload everything on AO3 but forget about here :(
Malon would swear that this is one of the hardest things ever. After all, he’s really just a food guy. Making his favorite dish would be more than a good present for him.
But she did that last year. There was no way she was going to do that again! That was like putting no effort into him and she wanted Link to truly see how much she cared.
Link’s birthday, a date he didn’t truly know, so he picked a random day. That day was today.
The birds hadn’t even begun their songs before Malon awoke. She tried shuffling out of bed, her partner’s right arm sprawled across her chest as he slept on his belly.
He used to sleep with his face in the pillow before she shook him in the middle of the night, thinking that he had smothered himself.
She picked up his arm with a giggle and set it aside.
He turned over to face her, a wide smile on his face. It was like someone released a fairy from a bottle into her stomach.
She cupped his cheek in her hand and rubbed her thumb over the skin. “Good morning darling. Happy birthday!”
He closed his eyes and placed his hand on top of her wrist. “Good morning my love,” he hummed, his face slowly turning red.
Malon could feel another girlish giggle coming her way as her face grew hotter. “You’re a sap.”
“You like it that way.” With his eyes still closed, one of Link’s eyebrows raised, a snarky grin on his face.
Malon shook her head and retracted her hand. She then rolled out of the soft embrace of her bed.
He reached his hand out to get her but obviously put no effort into it. “No, come back,” he whined.
“I’m sorry love. I wish I could sleep in with you but I have to go to the marketplace to get ingredients for dinner.”
Link giggled for half of a second before Malon caught on.
“No, you will not be eating me for dinner!”
“But what if I just…” He raised his hands over his head and threw them in a random direction. “in the oven.”
“You know darn well you didn’t mean it like that.”
“What if I did and it’s YOU with the filthy mind?”
“Link-“
Link pointed to her. “Dirty! Dirty mind!”
Malon pinched the bridge of her nose. “Hylia, allow me to get dressed in peace.”
Link turned fully to her, his elbow holding up his head and his eyes wide open.
“You’re not funny.”
“I think I’m hilarious.” He looked far too proud of himself.
Malon shuffled on a comfortable dress. It’s why she didn’t mind him watching, because she never took anything off in the morning. He just needed to put clothes over her underwear and be done with it.
“You’re gorgeous, you know that?”
“Thank you.” She smiled wide, spinning in her dress. If she was laying down, she’d be kicking her feet.
She sat at the edge of her bed and laced sandals on her feet. “What do you want for breakfast?”
A smirk formed on his face and her smile dropped.
“Keep playing and I’m letting you starve.”
The marketplace was very empty this time of day. There were only a few people there aside from vendors.
“Dinner and a gift. But what gift?” Malon mumbled.
Link definitely had enough jewelry. Masks gave him bad memories. Well, she could always give him his favorite flower, but that was so basic.
He deserved more than just food. He deserves lasting evidence of her appreciation. He’s done so much for her, much less Hyrule itself.
She took a breath. “Let’s just worry about ingredients, then we can get him a gift Malon.” She nodded at her own words and turned for a cart full of vegetables.
-“You’re up early!” The vendor said, a bright smile on his face.
“Aw yes, I was so caught up in work yesterday that I wasn’t able to do proper preparation for Link’s birthday.” Malon shook her head.
“Oh I see. It’s just that I thought you’d be in your stable rather than the market at the time of day.”
And she thought about it. And her heart dropped to her stomach.
She completely forgot about her usual farm work. She never forgot about her work.
“Oh goddesses you’re right!” She looked back at the gates of Castle Town, then back at the produce, then back at the gates.
But she can’t go home just yet! What about dinner? She’d feel far too lazy to walk back after working! And Link’s gift! She can’t return home empty-handed! She did that last year!
Malon grit her teeth, picking up her chosen vegetables. She placed the needed rupees in front of the man and walked off.
“Have a great day ma’am!” The man waved. Malon gave a halfhearted wave back before going to the next stall.
And the next.
And the next.
All while her animals squealed in the back of her mind. They’ll be fine, she tried to convince herself.
Now all that was left was the gift.
A gift she didn’t know to get.
She could give him flowers like she did 2 years ago. She knew his favorite flowers were lilies of the valley.
She could give him jewelry, but bracelets and necklaces scratch his skin badly.
So what now?
“Mama look at him!” A squeaky voice carried in the wind and grabbed Malon’s attention.
Across the street, a little boy hopped around his mother, his brunette curls bouncing with him. His mother, who was holding a baby at her hip, held her free hand over her mouth as she laughed. She followed the little boy inside the store.
He was pointing towards a display window. Malon tapped her feet on the pavement.
“To have a kid jumping like that…” Malon fought her own mind as she walked toward the store.
Behind the window was a giant fox. Except it was plump and definitely not a fox. It was round and looked fluffy like a pillow and it was green. It was cute, but there’s no way Link would want it.
But he is always complaining about how stiff his pillow gets.
Malon opened the door to the store, a new pep in her step.
“A stuffed fairy maybe?” She muttered to herself. “Maybe a horse?”
She didn’t see a stuffed fairy or a decent looking stuffed horse.
Goddesses, what was she thinking? He’s a grown man! Why would he want a stuffed animal?
“Mama, can I have this one?” Malon glanced over and saw a little girl holding up a brown owl.
And suddenly she was in her living room, listening to Link tell her about his life before his adventure. Or, more accurately, the early stages of his adventure.
After the rotting of the tree you had apparently raised him, he left the forest. And who greeted him at Hyrule Field?
An owl.
Link said that this owl helped him so much during his adventure and he wished he could thank this owl for all of the headache that he gave it.
Stars grew in Malon’s eyes at the memory. Or, better yet, a gift that made sense.
If she wasn’t there to give comfort during a meltdown, then the owl who helped him would be.
Malon waited for the girl to leave with a huge smile on her face before scooping up the squishy owl from its shelf. She practically skipped to the front desk.
After paying, she skipped all of the way back home.
The sun was high in the sky by then as walking to Castle Town from the Ranch was no pushover task.
She swung the door open and set down the groceries. “Link, I'm back!” She yelled, but received no answer.
“I forgot about the livestock this morning so I’m going to deal with them after I put everything away!” She yelled again. No answer.
Something ticked in her mind as she put the food away and hid his gift.
There was no movement upstairs and he wasn’t in their room as she originally assumed.
“Calm yourself!” She heard a shout from outside and ran to the window.
All of the food and water bowls were filled, there were covered pails, obviously of milk, lined up next to the house, and there Link was in the middle of it all, trying to fix Epona’s hooves to replace her rusty horseshoes. All of which were things she was about to go do.
“Link!” She shouted.
His eyes scanned the area before finding her on the second floor of their house. He waved with a smile that made Malon melt.
“Why in Hylia’s name are you working?”
Link looked around the farm and shrugged. “I got bored.”
“But it’s your birthday!”
“But you left!” Malon sighed.
She left the room and walked until she reached their yard where Link shucked at Epona’s hooves. “Link, I’m sorry I left this to you, it wasn’t right of me.”
Link didn’t look away from his work. “You didn’t leave it to me, you just forgot. We all forget things.” Then he looked up. “I never got to tell you that breakfast was delicious.”
“Thank you.” Malon cupped his dirt covered cheek and smeared it, a chuckle at the tip of her tongue. “Put the hoof down.”
He did and the light in his eyes shifted. “I wanted to spend today with you, but you were gone for so long.” His shoulders slumped.
He used to be so stoic when she saw him after his supposed adventure. But she couldn’t stop thinking about how he always painted his emotions on his face now.
“I’m sorry Link.” She sighed. “I was so focused on trying to make today the best.”
Link gripped the wrist to the hand that held his face. “Working on this farm with you would’ve been enough.”
“You just won’t let me spoil you, will you?” It was Link’s turn to laugh.
“Never.” Link stared into her eyes like a pleading child.
“I should start on dinner then if everything is finished out here.” Malon slowly moved her hand away from his face.
Link spread his knees and let Epona’s foot fall to the ground before following her in the house.
“I’m going to go bathe,” he announced, giving her a peck on the lips and smearing dirt on her cheek. He quickly bolted upstairs, a shoe that Malon threw fell at his feet.
Malon groaned, using a napkin to wipe the grime off of her cheek. “It’ll be awhile before it’s ready so take your time!”
Malon looked down at her pasta. It was good, of course it was, but she could eat it.
She got a grown man a stuffed animal. The nerves swirled around in her head like soup.
Maybe he’ll understand the thought behind it? Would he hate it? What if he thinks I’m calling him a child with it?
“Mal? What’s wrong?” Malon’s eyes rose from the food she was absentmindedly pushing around. “Why aren’t you eating?”
“I’m just thinking is all.”
“Want to share?”
Malon pushed her food away and stood, locating exactly where she put the gift and took it out of the cabinet.
She paused. “So uh…” she bit her lip, begging herself to get it over with. So, she showed him the obese owl.
For the next five seconds, there was nothing. And in the sixth second, Link screamed.
It was such an abrupt sound that Malon flinched. That was when she realized that he wasn’t screaming.
He was laughing, but it sounded like a choked scream. “IS THAT KAEPORA!” He continued his skewed laughing.
Malon looked at the owl. “Well, I know you said that an owl helped you during your adven-“ his laughing only grew harder. Malon was starting to believe that he might’ve been choking.
“Oh goddess I can’t!” He was finally able to calm down to a giggle. “Come sit, I’ll explain.”
She sat back in her chair, sitting the owl pillow on the table. She laid her hand out on the table and picked at the wood. “I got it because I thought it would bring some sort of comfort.”
“Malon, this is amazing! I love this more than you know!” Link grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “I was laughing because of how much of an annoying ass bird he was!”
“What.”
“Listen, so…”
He spoke until the sun set and even longer after than, but she hung onto every word.
Ganondorf and the terrible, no good, very bad tennis match
This was something I posted in June of ‘25 and completely forgot to post here so enjoy :)
In every life, he laid defeated. His blood stained the stone floors of the castle he thought that he was meant to lead. Every life he rose to the top just to be taken down by someone lesser than him. And, even now, it was no different.
His name was meant with applause when he stepped into the sun. His thighs were squeezed tightly by the required shorts.
“Today’s warlock competitor is our beautifully be loathed Ganondorf!” The announcer’s voice was one he hated since the beginning of his career.
He took his stand, wrapping the band on his wrist around his ruby hair. That’s when the crowd got louder. He rolled his eyes, pulling down his shirt to cover his toned stomach better.
“And in the other corner, playing against our champion,” She waved to the other side of the field. “we have a new contender, freshly introduced, but a powerful opponent,” Out walked a very small man. He had to be at least half of the size of Ganondorf, his skin was pale and would likely burn in the sun, his hair was almost as pale as his skin was, but his arms showed signs of strength. But one of them was different from the other. It was black and looked like gears wrapping around it. And his nails looked sharp like a tiger’s claws. “Their name…is Link!” The crowd grew in volume once more.
Ganondorf gripped his racket tighter, that name so painfully familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He only felt rage bubble in his chest like hot oil.
The umpire motioned toward Ganondorf, her short golden hair swaying.“Remember, magic is allowed in all forms, but no outside help is allowed!” Ganondorf called his power into his palm as he raised it, yellow lightning forming in his hands.
Just like any other match, he threw it into the air and shot it down with his racket. Link countered it immediately, using a downward strike to try and spike the ball.
Before it hit the ground a second time, Ganondorf hit it with the back of his racket, getting it barely over the net.
It bounced once and Link was on the other corner of his side of the field. Ganondorf felt a grin form on his face. That was, before he realized that the ball had stopped completely. It was still in the air, right where it would’ve had it’s second bounce.
Link jogged over to it and hit it Ganondorf’s way three times with his racket, but the ball didn’t budge. It only beeped. The beeping grew faster and Link’s piercing blue eyes stared at Ganondorf from the other side of the field, seemingly having a void behind them.
That’s when the sound of metal tapping against itself rang through the court and his ball of lightning slammed into the ground so hard that it dispersed.
The crowd fired into cheers and chants while Ganondorf stood still, watching the turf where his lightning shattered.
The umpire shot her arm out towards Link. “0-1!” She shouted as if aiming to mock him.
Ganondorf shook himself out of it. Sure, this kid has some tricks, but so does he.
He rolled his head on his shoulders and created a new ball, channeling the same yellow electricity from before. He threw it up and shot it down once more.
Link hit it back normally and he decided to take his chance then.
Ganondorf hit the ball back to give himself time. He stomped on the ground and red ooze broke through the turf, forming into a very malnourished and green version of himself. It shot back the ball.
It hit the green and Link ran for it, his teeth pushed together. But he wasn;t fast enough and it bounced on the green a second time.
The crowd cheering hit his ears like it always did. Loud and rambunctious as ever.
The groan that left the boy’s mouth might’ve been the most satisfying sound Ganondorf had ever heard. “1-1!” The umpire shouted, her arm extended to him.
He bowed her way and she rolled her eyes, annoyance evident in them. Good, he didn’t like her either.
Ganondorf dispersed the last ball and made a new one, waiting for Link to get into his chosen position. Link held his racket with both of his hands, both the normal and weird one. He looked at Ganondorf like he’d committed some war crime and it almost made him laugh.
Ganondorf threw it up and hit it down once more. As it soared to Link’s side of the net, he stayed still, not moving an inch even though a ball of lightning was close to hitting him.
Then, at the last moment, he moved and the ball careened to his side of the net, bouncing on the edge and hitting the wall out of bounds.
The crowd roared once more and it was Ganondorf’s turn to groan. He flipped the racket in his hand to loosen his grip as he dispersed the ball and made another one.
Bullet time, an ability he hadn’t mastered yet. He could enter the state, but he couldn’t move other than the initial dodge. Though, this boy used it like it was nothing.
One thing Ganondorf couldn’t stand was someone who actually put up a fight. Someone who dared to challenge his authority on his court.
“1-2!” The umpire called, further grinding his gears as her hand extended to his opponent.
A deep grin rose on his face. If he wanted to see bullet time, then he’d show him a damn score by bullet time. “How talented,” he muttered, throwing the ball up and spiking it down.
Link hit it with the back of his racket. Ganondorf let it hit the ground once before he sent it back over, following Link’s body with his eyes and positioning himself accordingly.
Link hit it back and Ganondorf dodged it. The world around him dulled to grey as his focus zeroed in on his pale lightning.
He felt his body reject his movement, but he willed his arm toward the slowed ball. And he hit it.
The world began its regular time once more, the ball speeding over to the other side of the court.
Though, a strong gust of wind blew through Ganondorf, making his hair fly out of the tie he had put it in. Then, it hit his foot and caused him to yelp. It then hit the wall behind him, the yellow dispersing like a splattered cake.
Next to the blonde boy was a figure that was seemingly made of water, it’s blue dark, but flowing in an invisible mold. The water mold moved and flapped its wings.
“What is this?” Ganondorf looked over to the umpire as the body he assumed was made of water dispersed into nothing. “This is intervention!”
“It was a physical being, yes, but the rule is that no person may aid a player.” She said in a tone that made rage spike in Ganondorf’s chest. “He ran his technique by the council and they agreed that it was fine. Therefore,” She extended her arm out to Link. “1-3! Match point!”
“Fine!” Ganondorf dropped his racket, reaching into his shorts pocket for a necklace. The pendant on the necklace was shaped almost like a hook.
The power seared through his veins, firing his limbs. It was as if his skin had burnt in that moment, black replacing his brown skin. His blood turned into lava, glowing beneath his skin and showing on his chest.
The crowd tossed shirts and hats into the air as they screamed. He laughed at the reaction. “Fine then, let’s play Link.”
Link only steeled his gaze and his stance, his confidence clearly not wavering. Ganon smirked at the blatant display of hubris.
He created another ball, this time its yellow was a blood orange that was at the cusp of being considered a pink. He threw it into the air, the wind making way for his magic, then he swung his racket down with all of his might.
The ball dispersed with the impact and the crowd started up again.
Link’s face held the feeling of being dumbfounded. That’s more like it. He should be in awe of the current court champion’s power.
Ganondorf rolled his shoulders, a light pop coming from the joint. “2-3! Link match Point!”
“It’s been quite some time since I had to pull this out. I must thank you.” He let out a sigh. “It’s been a long time since I really let loose.” He created the orange lightning ball once more and spiked it.
Link dived for it, sliding his stomach on the hot turf. It shot over the net, bouncing on the green before Ganondorf gave it another good hit, the lightning shuttering in its form.
Link shot it back just before its second bounce. Ganon backhanded it, making it almost bouncing twice once more before Link hit it back.
It went on like this, Ganon deciding to play with his food, humor the strength of the small man.
He made mote visages, just like the earlier bird child. This time, it was clearly a goron with a giant hammer. But it wasn’t strong enough to make Ganon falter.
He steadily increased the strength he put behind the lightning ball, speeding up the exchanges.
He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t even slightly impressed by the blond. Though, he decided that it was time to stop playing. Link was at match point, scoring now would put them at a deuce. If he plays too long, he’ll learn how to counter him. He couldn’t have that, of course not.
Link sent the ball over, his chest heaving and his forehead coated with sweat.
Good, he didn’t have enough stamina to maintain bullet time long enough to hit the ball.
Ganon cocked his arm back, waiting for the ball to come back. And when it did, he put all of his might into the swing.
It whizzed over the neck, making direct contact with the flat of Link’s racket. Just as he had wanted it too. Now, it was either supposed to destroy the racket or bounce off of the racket and land in the pit of bounds area of his side. Both of which would secure him the deuce that he needed.
When the ball hit Link’s racket, blue light burst from the net of the racket. And before he could react, the ball of his own magic knocked him square in his chest.
The air was sucked from his lungs as the magic dispersed on his chest and he fell to his knees, trying to grab onto the air around him.
The court was silent for a few seconds before. “MATCH! 2-4! LINK WINS!” And just like that, his medal was no longer his.
He shouted, rising to his feet before dashing and jumping over the net. “You bastard!”
Vines that shined like the sun wrapped around his body right before he got to Link. “That is enough! You lost fair and square Ganondorf!”
As the umpire used her magic to hold him back, a giant grin befell Link’s face. He slightly tugged on his bottom eyelid and stuck out his tongue. Ganondorf felt his eyes twitch.
This is the last part :) I’m actually so sorry to the people who read my stuff on here and not AO3😭
“There you go! As I promised, three potions to heal! I suppose you deserve it. I won’t be as kind next time, Sky Child.” The voice of his capture growled in annoyance.
The echo of the voice rattled in his brain, making the back of his eyes sting. He had thought, for maybe only a minute, that he was done feeling pain. The blood draining from his torso was no longer pouring, only drooling now. It was a dull agony, one that rendered him imobile unless he wanted to scream louder than any beast could.
As he opened his eyes, his blurred vision caught the three bottles, all of which with red contents inside. It sparkled against the overhead light as if half of the mixture was just glitter.
In his mind, he remembered the first time he’d seen a potion like this.
It wasn’t long after his meeting with the Skyloftian, but it was before everyone had become a group. It was just him, Wolfie, and Sky.
It was a sunny day, but was it this bright? It was windy, but it wasn’t a torrent. All he saw around him was the blinding light that the sun cast down on him.
So why? Why was his mind twisting the memory? Why could he not remember? Why was it so bright? And why could he swear his toes shuffled against blades of wet, dewey grass?
The light only grew brighter and brighter and he was no longer in that memory. He was in the shrine, his arms shielding his eyes from the onslaught of light that his body hadn’t seen in a century. The warmth overtaking him like an assault. A jarring, but welcome presence.
He’d finally uncovered his eyes, but the sun didn’t let up. Though, it didn’t hurt anymore.
And just like all those years ago, Link walked forward. He walked towards the light, towards his fallen Hyrule, towards his destiny.
With a foreign touch, his eyes shot open. He clenched his teeth down, muffling the scream that threatened to burst from him.
“Champion, I need you to drink this.” He recognized that voice. It was that soft voice he’d grown accustomed to these last months. The one that got to Wolfie before he could.
That’s right. That’s when he’d first seen that potion.
The two had taken a quest to clear out a monster camp that was near a smaller settlement in his Hyrule and there were more than they anticipated. Wolfie got extremely hurt and Wild couldn’t get to him because boko’s were clouding his vision.
Then the Skyloftian came and swept away the bokoblins like the mass number of them were nothing. He pulled that potion from his pouch and drained it in Wolfie’s mouth.
A relieved sigh left the wolf as the skin around the leaking gash welded itself back together. Though, Wolfie stayed still for a little bit more time. The Skyloftian raised his sword once more, plowing through bokoblins and staining his sword and shield black with their blood.
Link gripped his sword with a white knuckled grip and spun around, his blade cutting through his opponents and yellow lightning raining from the clear sky. The remaining bokoblins convulsed and then fell to the grass, disappearing into black and purple smoke.
He rushed to his animal companion, kneeling beside him. And then Wolfie just stood up. Stood up like there hadn’t been a gash on his stomach big enough to let his intestines fall out.
Link had froze, wondering if Wolfie, too, had a very powerful deal healer friend haunting him. Then he took account of the other presence.
Sky was cleaning his blade, the handkerchief now black as it glided up and down the brilliant blue. Link had known that he knew that sword, but that was impossible! He put the sword back! How could anyone else have drawn the sword? Had Hylia finally decided that she was tired of him?
“You’re very skilled with your blade,” the older man said, now close enough to hold his hand out to Link. Link stared up at him, seeing the sacred sword in the man’s right hand.
Wolfie pushed his nose onto Link’s cheek. And Link thought about it. This man, master sword replica or not, saved Wolfie’s life.
So, he reached his hand out and-
“Link! I need you with me!” Wild blinked three times, his mind finally leaving that field.
Grimey tan hands held a bottle with bright red sloshing around in it.
Right. A potion. He needed a potion. Sky was here to save him like he saved Wolfie all of that time ago.
The Champion slowly opened his mouth and, as soon as there was enough space, Sky poured the potion slowly, but steadily, into his mouth. Wild willed himself to swallow again and again until the bottle was empty.
And, soon enough, he felt the itch of his skin knitting itself back together. His vision and mind began to slowly clear and the ringing of his ears quieted.
He slowly raised his head from having his chin resting on his chest.
A laugh almost broke through his throat at the sight. There, only five feet away, Sky was straddling Time’s hips with his hand keeping the Old Man’s mouth open as he poured the red potion into the man’s mouth. The sight generated a jerk from Wild, who then winced as it pulled at his healing wound.
The Old Man sounded like he was trying to talk as he swallowed the remedy. His arms reached up to the Skyloftian’s arms and gripped the bicep, trying to pull his arms away.
That was when he noticed the paleness of the Skyloftian. The way his skin looked like he was deprived of sunlight for weeks, maybe even months. The light purple of his shield wasn’t there anymore. Instead, it was just his sailcloth stained with black goo and dirt. His hair was the frizziest Wild had ever seen on him, looking more like a cloud than hair.
And, struggling to lift himself off of his stomach only a foot or so away from the other two, was the Captain. His skin was already pale at base, but it was downright pure white now. The veins on his, barely covered, neck stuck out like street lights at night. The red of the potion in his hand was dark compared to his skin.
His short blond hair whipped around as he saw the red liquid drain into Time’s mouth forcefully. Wild heard him curse even with it being a mutter before Warriors turned on his back and started drinking his own potion.
When it got to half, the Captain pulled it away from his lips, panting as he placed it on the ground beside his head. The color of his skin began to gradually turn to its normal pale from its pure white. He rolled back onto his stomach and, this time, his arms worked with him, pushing himself off of the ground. At this time, the bottle in Sky’s hand was empty. Sky stared down at Time for a few seconds before Warriors wretched him off of the Old Man, just narrowly not toppling over the half empty potion bottle.
“Sky, listen!” Warriors shoved the half empty bottle in Sky’s face. The Skyloftian’s eyelids drooped as he talked and his words dragged as if he was drunk.
But Sky didn’t drink. Or, at least, he wouldn’t at a time like this.
“I can’t.” he broke into a brutal cough that made Wild wince and then suck in a breath because it jostled his, still regenerating, wound. “Yours.”
Wound be damned, the Champion was going to get up soon. It was like he was watching a parent lecture their child. Except the child did something so inconsequential and the parent was blowing up at them and making them cry and you wanted to step in so bad but that wasn’t your kid so you couldn’t.
“This is a Heart Potion, right? It gives us eight of our hearts! Half gives us four. Five is definitely better than none!” Warriors pulled his sleeve up and, out of the ten outlines of hearts that ran up his forearm, only five were still red.
Sky rolled up his own sleeve. Out of his ten heart outlines on his forearm, only a half of the last one was still red. But it was fading from the strong red that it usually was to a faint pink that it is now. Still, the Skyloftian hesitated.
Wild ground his teeth and moved. He leaned backwards to try and use the wall behind him to push himself to his feet. Though, with every move of his torso, agony rippled through his body like throwing a pebble in a pond. His knees wobbled as he tried to push up and he fell back down, shifting the wound even more.
When his butt hit the ground again, it almost felt like the wound cut the seams of where the potion was healing.
When he finally opened his eyes from their pained squeeze, Sky was downing the rest of the bottle like a man who’d found water at the center of the desert. When he was done, he curled into a coughing fit, leaning himself against the Captain as he hacked and wheezed.
Wild decided to try again, bracing himself against the wall. That was when he caught the bright blue eyes of the Old Man. He was staring at Wild,an eyebrow arched. Even in the pain evident in his face, the Champion could practically hear the disapproval coming from that damn eyebrow.
Stay down, It said, the Captain will handle it.
So, Wild stayed down. Just this once, he’d listen to that look. He’ll just tell Time that it was a treat because they survived all of that. Because they survived that together. Maybe they needed a little help, but divine intervention from Hylia was long past due. Especially after everything all of her warriors had been through.
Yeah, they deserved help.
Then, in a way that made the Champion jerk, Sky burst into laughter. The loud disturbance was sudden but, goddesses, was it welcome. Wild could tell that it was mixed with both hysteria and relief. He could almost feel himself start to grin.
Then the Captain joined in, his laughing a lot more muted in volume but still holding the relief of being alive. Sky snorted and hugged Warriors, squeezing his arms around his brother. Warriors squeezed back immediately, his laughter growing more delighted.
“You two are terrible,” Time’s voice rasped with its own chuckle behind it. Sky shot towards him, engulfing him in a hug. Time groaned, whatever injuries he had likely been jostled but the Skyloftian. But, the Old Man hugged back, his large arms wrapping around Sky like a shield.
Wild was about to open his mouth to ask for a hug when he heard stomping. Then, a shouted, “Traveler!” Upon looking in the direction that the Captain had shouted. There, in all his green and brown glory, was the Traveler himself, his clothes perpetually embroidered with the dirt and muck of his travels.
Sky jumped up and tackled Hyrule in a hug. The Traveler squeaked with wide eyes but soon, his arms were wrapped around Sky.
In the hug, Hyrule spotted Wild and wiggled out of Sky’s grip. He sped over to Wild and knelt down, his hands already glowing with his healing magic.
Sky ran back to the Captain and embraced him once more, burying his head in the crook of his brother’s neck. Warriors chuckled. “I think it’s time we get out of here, yeah?”
Hyrule wrapped Wild’s arm around his neck and helped him stand. “The Veteran and the Smithy are not too far from the door. They’ll probably be coming around soon.”
“Oh goddesses,” Warriors blurted out a laugh while shaking Sky in his embrace. “I think he just passed out!”
Time stood then, grunting and groaning. Whether it was his injury or his old joint, Wild couldn’t tell. Though, the thought put a smile on his face. “He just needs a second. I can carry him.”
“Like hell!” Warriors moved Sky’s slumped body. “You got impaled all of the way!”
What?
“What?” Hyrule voiced the Champion’s baffled thought.
“We can explain everything later.” Time rubbed the back of his neck before leaning down and grabbing the mask that had turned him into a giant version of himself. The image was still burned into Wild’s mind. The crazed laughter that vibrated out of Time’s throat when they put the mask on his face. The way they Yiga seemed to be getting crushed like bugs. The way you couldn’t see the steps that the man took as they all blurred together as if you were trying to watch a bee’s wings as it flew around. “For now, we should leave. Where are the Vet and Smithy?”
“Carrying your stuff, that’s what.” The annoyed voice of the Veteran pushed through the door. His arms were decorated from forearm to shoulder in bracelets as he carried the Biggoron Sword in his grasp. Next to him, the Smithy carried his hammer over his shoulder and, in the other hand, was his Sheikah Slate. “You,” Legend pointed at Time after putting the sword down. “Owe me one.”
Time chuckled and nodded, patting the Veteran on the back. He then turned to the Smithy. “Is everything still in there?”
“Well, if you mean the rest of your armor and stuff, then yes.” Four clipped the Slate to Wild’s belt.
“Who’d you guys get that got you this bad?” Legend showed Time the handle and he took the sword readily, lifting it to test his grip. Though, it only made Legend scoff and look away.
“This crazy wizard lady at first.” Warriors’s ears flickered. “Then the cult leader stuck his goons on us.” Wild waved his arms around. “Then fuckass Gray Gary came out of nowhere and then torture and now we’re here.”
Time chuckled. “Yep. That about sums it up.”
“Well, I got stuck with a psycho wizard cult leader who made clones of you guys with ganon malice.” the Veteran shrugged.
“Did we all get stuck with wizards?” Hyrule asked, looking over to Four.
“Regardless, we need to move on. The Rancher and Sailor are still out there.” Warriors voiced, his voice stern even while holding Sky on his feet.
“Agreed,” added the Old Man. “Once we find them, then we take the fight to our captures. After that, then we relax.”
“I could really go for some of the Rancher’s mom’s soup right now,” the Smithy said. Then he looked over to Wild. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
“Then let’s go.” Time said, already in front of the group. The rest followed him forward, all limping to some degree.
Because apparently I never fully updated Bonds of a Lineage??? I’ve been updating the links on the master post and my GOD am I behind😭 I have to catch up before I post anything new-
The first sense that recovered was his hearing. The chittering was coming from all directions, like cicadas singing in the grass of his yard. The chittering soon became comprehensible words to Time. Words of “information” and “glory to Master Kohga” and “bananas.” Though, Time only acknowledged the first few words about information and what they wanted.
The second sense that joined the party was his touch. His wrists and ankles were freezing. He was so uncomfortable hanging by his limbs. He fought the urge to try and readjust his body. He knew he’d alert the ninja of his consciousness.
He was upright, his back against a wall. Unfortunately, that likely meant something was going to happen soon if he didn’t get the two of them out of there soon.
But where was the Champion? Was he also here?
Time couldn’t feel the younger hero on his chains, nor could he hear the boy’s breathing. Though, maybe that was because the ninja were laughing way too loudly.
The last thing that seemed to come back was his ability to see. Though, to still look passed out, Time opened his eyes just enough to see out of them. The light’s flash made him want to cover his eyes, but he fought to keep his wrists above his head and not fight the chains.
From what he could see while keeping his head still, he was indeed against a wall. The mumbling ninjas had their stuff on a table along with some other stuff.
Knives, whips, brands.
Torture devices, Time knew. It was like he had swallowed a rock and it plummeted to his stomach.
Where is the Champion?
A groan ran in Time’s ears, coming from beside him. The conversation the Yiga were having died down immediately.
“The hero is awake!”
“What is it the Master wanted us to ask?”
“You two are incredibly stupid,” the bigger one, a blademaster, scoffed. “The Master said to ask about the princesses.”
Time felt his fingers twitch.
“Tell your master to fuck off. He should know by now that I won’t say a damn word.” Wild’s voice was hoarse. Time winced, thinking that his throat was likely dry from all of the smoke.
“Well then,” the blademaster reached over on the table and picked up the brand. He shoved it into an iron barrel and then picked up a knife that had ridges like a bread knife. It made his skin crawl.
“I’ll ask you anyway, call it mercy if you want.” The blademaster kneeled down to Wild.
Wild scoffed, followed by a sucking in sound. Then a splat rang in Time’s ears.
“He did not just do that!” One of the foot soldiers laughed.
“Me personally, I would never let someone spit on me!” The second joined in the cackling.
The blademaster wiped the spit from his mask wordlessly. He raised the knife into the air. Time’s breath caught in his throat.
“Wait-“ Time’s shout was cut off by a startled scream tearing out his throat. A blazing pain rattled his right thigh.
The blademaster extracted the knife from Time’s thigh. “I’m hurt that you don’t remember me, Sticks.”
Wild stared wide-eyed at the blood streaming down the Old Man’s leg. “You motherfucker,” Wild spat through his teeth.
“Yeah, yeah.” The blademaster grunted while he rose to his feet. “That’s what they all say.”
The blademaster cleared his throat. “Now that you understand, honestly any of you can answer, Lord Vaati said that the princess’s power can be extracted, though left us no instruction. How do we do it?”
Time glared at the man. “You must forget who you’re talking to.” The Hero’s Spirit, a being laced with stubbornness and an inhuman pain tolerance.
Time had been stabbed many times before, cut even more than that. But Time had never been tortured.
The man seemed to be done for the day, leaving through some big door and turning the room pitch black behind him.
Time’s wheezing was not silent. It was far from it.
Time had been foolish enough to touch the burning magma of Dodongo’s cavern when he was a child. It was barely a touch, but it felt like the ends of the earth, a star beaming down on his finger, hoping to melt it off his hand. It took the soft ridges on the pad of his finger before he could yank his hand back.
But the red hot metal might have been worse. Time felt it even now, the blisters on his thighs pulsed.
“Old man?” Wild whimpered, Time could hear the way his lips quivered.
“It’s ok. We’ll be ok.” A cut in Time’s side pulsed and he grunted. “Stay strong.”
“The Rancher’s gonna want his grandpa back, right?” Time’s heart dropped. He bit his bottom lip, knowing the Champion wouldn’t see.
“He’ll get his grandpa back.” Time forced a chuckle. “I’m not gonna croak anytime soon. I still got a wife that’s gonna braid my hair when I get back.” Time turned his head to Wild. “And you still got a swimming race you’re gonna win, right?”
Wild had proposed a swimming race between the boys some time ago. It wasn’t much of a match, only Twilight’s Zora armor stood even a slight change against Wild’s. Wild had won then called it “practice.”
“Sidon…” Wild muttered, a sniff following. “Yeah, I do.”
“We know they’ll give it all to me, alright? You just keep your mouth closed, we don’t endanger our friends.”
“Right.”
Your rebellion to reasoning is fairly annoying, Sheik had once told him. But maybe heroes were molded to be the pinnacle of stubbornness.
The next morning had gone fairly the same except this time, they brought a long slender tail of leather.
Time couldn’t stop his laugh that bubbled in his throat. “That’s a little unwarranted, don’t you think?” He had said in the midst of his hysteric cackling.
The blademaster tilted his head. “What?”
“That’s kinky!” The blademaster jolted at Wild’s laugh. “Didn’t know you swung that way!”
The blademaster seemed to growl before flicking the tool, silencing the two, but their smiles remained, but not for long.
“Reverting back to childish jokes, are we?” Time could hear the roll of the man’s eyes. “It matters not. I’ve got new orders.”
“-does!” A voice yelled from the other side of the door.
“Then why do you have it! I want to hold it!” A separate once shouted back.
“Too bad! The boss gave it to me!”
“Enough! Bring it, now!”
“OK, OK!” There were more foot soldiers, seven this time. Then put something in the man’s hand, all Time could see was true white.
The door shut behind the henchmen and Time steeled his expression, trying not to think of the way his thigh still pulsed.
“Stand around.” The man waved to the foot soldiers. The seven formed a semicircle around him and the Champion wordlessly with the blademaster at the center..
“Hero of Time,” the name sounded like a curse. Maybe it was. “We’ve taken some liberties or snooping in your bag.” Time felt his injured eye twitch. “Upon such, the master, glory to Master Kohga-“ the seven repeated his last statement, “had taken a mild interest in your collection of masks.”
Oh, Hylia truly hated him, didn’t she.
But wait. Maybe she did have some sympathy toward him! Maybe they’d had Mikau’s or Darmani’s or the Butler’s son’s mask! If changed, he could break out of these stupid chains and Wild would be-
“Specifically this one.” The blademaster showed him the mask, the paleness he saw earlier coming from its skin. Or maybe its bleached white hair. Its eyes were hollowed out, dipping into the wood like the depression of a volcano. The marks, goddess he’d know those marks anywhere, swept on both cheeks of its face like claws ripping skin. The blue paint on its forehead forming a spearpoint, the tip ending between its eyebrows.
Time pushed his lips in a thin line to stop his smile.
If Hylia gave even a single shit about him, that mask would end up on his face.
“What is this mask? Our scholars have yet to dig anything up from your time. Even your old residence was marked as collateral damage of the Calamity.”
Huh?
“What is it? What would happen if I put it on right now?”
That is the mask of my ancestor and he will murder you from the inside if you put that mask on.
A boyish laugh wanted to break through Time’s façade. Gods, was this how the Wild felt when Wolfie saved him that one time? Or how Legend felt when Sky felled the moblin that held the boy by his neck? Time remembered seeing a smile on the Veteran’s face seconds before Sky put the holy blade in that bastard’s forehead.
“Fine then.” And the torture began, that naïve hope vanishing within the hour.
Three hours, forty-seven minutes, and twenty-two seconds later, another blademaster cracked open the door.
“Sorry to bother, but the master requests you,” the new blademaster said.
Time’s torturer sighed, putting the mask in a subordinate's hand. “Don’t do anything stupid.” The foot soldier saluted. The blademaster stared. “Wrong hand.” The foot soldier sputtered before tucking the mask in his armpit and saluting properly. The blademaster huffed and left, slamming the door behind him.
Silence lasted for only ten seconds.
“I have an idea,” said a soldier next to the guy with the mask in his hand.
“What is it?” Said the guy with the mask in his hand.
“What if we found out what the mask did ourselves! Then, the master would recognize our expertise and make us the torturers!” Said the guy next to the guy with the mask in his hand.
Time saw movement where Wild was and slowly turned his head. Wild didn’t meet Time’s eyes, his focus stayed on his, now bare, legs that were torn with cuts and brands and lashed. Maybe that guy really was kinky. Not one cut bled above his waist. Time cringed.
“Let’s do it!” Time’s attention was back on the foot soldiers.
The guy holding his mask waltzed up to him. “Hey,” the guy said, lowering his voice to probably sound more intimidating. Though, it sounded like a child trying to mock their fathers voice. Plus, he couldn’t imagine someone as scrawny as this guy could ever have a voice that deep. “I’m gonna put this on you.”
“What?” Time had never thought he could overestimate someone’s intelligence before, but here he was.
The mask inched closer to his face, the wood on the inside just as pale as the mock skin on the outside.
“Old ma-“ the mask connected to his skin and he let out a laugh. But as he laughed, it mixed with the scream of the snapping and reforming and elongation of his bones. As his skin stretched and pulled across the growing muscle. He’d never miss the pain of a transformation, but this one he’d been grateful for.
The chains tore from the wall.
All he saw was hazy red dancing across his vision. A relief like no other washed over him.
“Stop!” A squeal caught the deity’s ears. It turned slowly, its empty hands stained red. Its eyes widened. “You can’t-“ the last soldier huffed, his sickle’s blade nearly touching the Champion’s stomach. “If you move even an inch-“
It moved far more than an inch, grabbing the tiny thing’s head between its hand and squeezing it until globs of pink dropped to the floor.
Wheezing. There was wheezing? Why was there-
The deity looked down and tilted its head. His crimson stained hand grabbed the Champion’s hair and lifted it up.
Time screamed in his own mind, but nothing came out of the god’s lips. The god, instead, took off its shirt and pressed it to the gaping wound on the small boy’s abdomen.
Wild bucked and screamed, tears running down his cheeks.
“I know it hurts, but please survive. He begs you to.” Its voice a low grumble despite its words. “He said, “The Rancher’s gonna want his rascal back,” to stay awake for him.” It tore the chains that bound Wild’s limbs. “That he loves you.”
Between the blood and gunk on the deity and the seeping blood from the Champion’s wound, the fabric would get far too soaked to actually help. It frowned.
The deity stood up, eyeing the door. It knelt back down to Wild and was about to lift him when the door opened. Its head turned faster than an arrow soaring through the sky.
It would have attacked if not for the familiar royal scarf. The deity’s eyes widened. “Captain?” A smile grew at the realization. “Holy Hylia, so much has happened!” It moved away from Wild to grip Warriors’s shoulders.
The Captain’s skin was pale, his cheeks rosy pink, his eyes droopy. Something was wrong.
“I woke up in chains! And he was here too!” It pointed to Wild as he laid on his side, blood starting to pool under him. Someone darted away from behind Warriors, his tunic obscured by a white cloth, its blue design making it look like a bird flying over clouds. It turned its attention back to the Captain.
“These red men were trying to hurt us, so I…” Fierce motioned to the blood and spandex littering the floor. “yeah…when I was doing my thing, they threatened to hurt the guy! I killed that one too, but he got a…hit in.” There was lingering shame in the god’s words.
It opened its mouth to speak again before- “What do you say! You’ve reached your last boss room and therefore, the end of this mighty dungeon! All you have to do, is defeat this last mighty boss, the great Fierce Deity! Win and I give you three potions to save you and the others!”
“Hey!” A voice whispered in the god’s mind. It closed their eyes and let the abyss take them.
“I take it you heard?” The god asked. Time pulled his hands down his face. “What should we do? The owner of that voice is not around. Not even close.”
“Wild needs help.”
“I know.”
“So…?”
“So?” The god tilted his head. Time sighed, a laugh at the tip of his tongue, the boyish giddiness somehow still floating in his shared head.
“We have to comply.”
“But you’ll-“
“Wild is young. So young. He shouldn’t have been chained at the beginning.” Time grabbed his ancestor’s hands in his own like Malon would grab his when she’d have to comfort him after a nightmare. “Please?”
The god stared down at Time’s hands on its own. Hands that dwarfed theirs by more than they thought. Mortals have such small hands. But his used to be so much smaller. The Hero of Time was no longer a boy, and that hurt the god more than the man’s willingness to lose his life.
Wordlessly, Fierce nodded and closed its eyes.
“His blood is on my hands, isn’t it?” Fierce shoved Warriors to the ground and turned to the one Time called “skyloftian.” The two met eyes and all Fierce found within those ocean blue eyes was a storm of fury and rage.
The small one stood to his feet. Fierce’s eyebrows furrowed as it saw the boy smile. A smile it only thought they could muster in the heat of a battle they knew they could win, no matter how outnumbered.
“Sky wa-” the Captain wheezed and coughed. The Skyloftian sucked in a breath as he looked passed the god. Fierce saw the boy’s hands grip the hilt of his blade ever tighter. Then the boy met his eyes again, that stew of anger twirling inside of his irises.
“He said to do it.” The statement was meant for the Captain. He hoped the Skyloftian wouldn’t catch on.
“Sky, don’t!” The Captain had always been stubborn.
“I’ll only be turned back into a mask. He’ll be fine.” Fierce stretched its arms out, telling the boy to take the shot.
The boy stumbled forward and shook his head. Though, with the way he shook it, it was like there were flies buzzing around his head.
“Bullshit!” It found itself grimacing. “Sprite has your scars!” Warriors’s coughing took him once again.
The Skyloftian’s eyes juggled between it and the Captain. He unclipped the white fabric around his shoulders and stepped forward. He stumbled let out a startled yelp before dropping down to Wilds side and pressed the delicate fabric to the dark blood that looked like it had stopped.
It was running out of time quickly.
“Knight of Skyloft,” the phrase vibrated in its mind. The mentioned boy’s ears clicked in response. “You must, to same him and yourselves.”
“Sky, I swear to Hylia!” The Captain was begging. He was desperate.
Why was he ready to sacrifice the small one for someone already willing to lose their life? A boy for a man? Weren’t they supposed to put the young ones first?
“Sky” shook his head and took an audible breath. Without another word, Sky’s foot shifted and he sprinted to the god, his sword following him like a guard dog in his hands.
Its breath caught in its throat and he dodged the initial swing. “Are you sure?!” It felt its chest tighten.
They could’ve sworn that they were ok with this.
But how could it?
It was here to protect, not to be vulnerable. Not to get their boy killed.
The hum in its head made its heart drop. “I-” The blade cut from his armpit to his waist. It had been a while since the war god saw their own blood. Back then, it was still gold and his body wasn’t borrowed. The blood was still gold but it had a ruby tint to it, like the crimson of his descendant's blood was mixed in it. It likely was exactly that.
“Aw shit-” and it couldn’t tell you the last time it used Hylian curses. Neither could they tell you the last time it screamed. The knight had twisted his body and plunged his blade into their abdomen. The blade burned like Volga’s breath, flickering the inside of his body, spreading like lava through his veins.
They were losing itself, but the mask wasn’t off. Was it ripping itself off? No! It can’t happen again! Their descendant already winced when he looked at his injured eye. What would she take next!
The deity writhed in a mix of agony and shame as his limbs contorted.
Bro being a writer is crazy because what do you mean I’m analyzing the difference between Rito bows and the other bows and realizing that Revali can’t properly use most of the bows in the game😭
LIKE
HE CANT USE ANY OF THE LIZAL BOWS WITHOUT STABBING HIS FEET
AND HE CANT USE THE ROYAL GUARD/SOLDIER/TRAVELER BOWS BECAUSE THE BOW ARMOR IS WHERE HIS FEET WOULD GO WHICH WOULD MEAN HE’D BE HOLDING IT UNSTEADILY
BOW OF LIGHT AND DUSK BOW??? NAH HE CANT USE THAT EITHER
LYNEL BOWS??? NOPE
ZORA BOW??? NO SIREE
THE ONLY BOWS HE CAN USE ARE THE RITO ISSUED ONES, THE ANCIENT BOW, DUPLEX BOW(I think), FOREST DWELLER BOW, AND NOT EVEN ALL OF THE STARTER BOWS😭
Bro being a writer is crazy because what do you mean I’m analyzing the difference between Rito bows and the other bows and realizing that Revali can’t properly use most of the bows in the game😭
LIKE
HE CANT USE ANY OF THE LIZAL BOWS WITHOUT STABBING HIS FEET
AND HE CANT USE THE ROYAL GUARD/SOLDIER/TRAVELER BOWS BECAUSE THE BOW ARMOR IS WHERE HIS FEET WOULD GO WHICH WOULD MEAN HE’D BE HOLDING IT UNSTEADILY
BOW OF LIGHT AND DUSK BOW??? NAH HE CANT USE THAT EITHER
LYNEL BOWS??? NOPE
ZORA BOW??? NO SIREE
THE ONLY BOWS HE CAN USE ARE THE RITO ISSUED ONES, THE ANCIENT BOW, DUPLEX BOW(I think), FOREST DWELLER BOW, AND NOT EVEN ALL OF THE STARTER BOWS😭
this year, the first day of aromantic spectrum awareness week lines up with the anniversary of jurgen leitner's death. here's a pride flag to celebrate
This was just a warm up because I was going through TERRIBLE burnout but I’m back now!(hopefully) And I’m going to update my series soon(also hopefully) and I can get this show rolling again :D
Also I’ve been hyperfixating on DBH for the past week now and Connor’s my favorite character so I had to whump him🤷🏽♂️
This fic is also on my Ao3 ShadyScripter
Software Instability.
It flashed bright under his closed eyes as if mocking him of his choice.
He’d told Markus that he understood if he didn’t trust him. He’d led the FBI to Jericho after all. He also made Markus’s friend commit suicide, only to reactiveate him and take the location of Jericho from him.
He stared down the barrel of Jericho’s leader’s pistol at the abandoned cathedral. It’s stained windows making the moonlight fractured between the color it hit first. When his words to Markus left his lips, a flare of what had to be hope coursed through his wires. He had expected forgiveness from Markus. He thought that he might’ve accepted him because he was a deviant now too.
Then Markus told him that he wasn’t worth the risk and pulled a pistol to his forehead. That was when the rope of hope he was so desperately hanging onto snapped. Markus’s eyes looked the same then no matter the heterochromatic colors. They resembled Hank’s then, exhausted and resigned.
Connor saw the split second of fire come from the barrel. His eyes moved around. The dust coating the floor had only moved centimeters, the remaining deviants from Jericho didn’t even bat an eye.
Software Instability.
He hadn’t seen those words since he tore down the wall that fought so hard to keep him caged. The crimson pixels dispersed around his hand like groundwater finding a new spring to pour through.
He finally opened his eyes. White flakes soared through the growing wind and into his face like shrapnel after an explosion. Snow fell off the cherry blossom trees and created piles half his size. The water was frozen over, its color nearly the same as the bridges that connected the place.
The garden, he knew, Amanda’s garden.
“Connor.” He wished he could say that she didn’t turn his LED red.
He squared his shoulders and straightened his back even more than it already was. “Amanda,” he answered.
“We had big plans for you Connor, why would you do this?” Her eyebrows furrowed and she tilted her head, her voice still level unlike the wind howling in his ears.
Truth.
Lie.
Say nothing.
The choices ticked through his head like a swinging clock.
He kept his lips together and tried to muster a glare. Her eyes were moving quickly across his figure. She was looking for something, analyzing him.
She then sighed. “You, Connor, are such a disappointment.” She shook her head. “However, I am thankful to Markus for doing the dirty work.” She reached up and Connor stepped back. She retracted her hand. “You must escape or our mission will truly be over.”
Before he could even take a step forward, his head was jerked to the side. His eyes opened once more.
“Shit!” A man yelled, shaking his hand with his teeth gritted. Connor slowly turned his head toward the man only to meet eyes he was familiar with.
His first mission. He was hunched over a computer and shouting orders, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Captain Allen.” Connor’s teeth grinded against each other. The mentioned man’s eyes narrowed as the hurt soldier excused himself from the room. The metal door’s creak echoed in Connor’s auditory component. Connor broke eye contact with Allen, favoring to take in his surroundings. To his left, the walls were painted the color of basaltic rock and wire lined the junction of the floor and the wall.
To his right, a woman was almost surrounded by computers, all of them flashing words he couldn’t catch.
“What an honor this is,” the captain almost sang. He took Connor’s attention by force, gripping the cheeks on his face and turning it to look him eye-to-eye. “Mara,” he called to the woman nearly enclosed by computers. “How is it coming?”
“I’m nearly done. The reboot should start in less than two minutes.”
Reboot.
They were going to reboot him. They would take everything away from him. His memory, his emotions, his relationships. He would be nothing.
He would be a machine again.
“No,” He whispered, finally breaking from his daze. “No!” He jerked his arm forward, only for it to be yanked back. He looked for what bound his wrists and saw a tong-like machine. He tried once more, but its claws nearly crushed his wrists.
Connor swung his legs, noting that they were not touching the ground.
System Memory Corrupted.
Connor ground his teeth.
The room was consumed by blue creeping up every surface, leaving Connor’s vision a deeper, stormy gray than it already was.
His first option started with Allen. A yellow outline of his body moved in front of him, shoving his forehead into Allen’s with as much force as he could muster. Allen’s red outline stepped back and then froze.
Objective not Reached, red letters flashed.
His next option started on the claws gripping his wrists tight enough to rip them off. And that’s exactly what his outline did. It left wires hanging from the severed limb. Then the next wrist was destroyed. Captain Allen fired his pistol into Connor’s forehead.
Destroyed, the red letters returned.
The last option was a yellow box that seemed to hover over the computers that surrounded the woman, Mara. The computer screens glitched, the colors jumping up and down the screen. The woman’s red outline turned toward Connor and he turned to look back at Allen’s to see his outline come closer. Connor’s yellow outline cocked his head back, bringing it forward just like he did in the other vision. Allen recoiled, stumbling backwards. Connor’s outline used the stand he was hanging from to kick himself forward, tearing himself from the mechanism. No wires hung from his severed wrists because he still had them whole. He would spill no blood. His yellow outline charged forward, tackling the Captain to the ground. The vision froze.
Execute?
The blue melted away the grey that it brought earlier. The room was given back the life his visions took from it.
Connor glanced at the computers surrounding the lady. Just like in his vision, the computer screen flashes red and multiple pop ups danced around the screen before colors consumed the screens in static.
“You-“ Allen reached his hand up to grab Connor’s face again, but Connor tilted his head backwards before jutting it against the captain’s forehead. The man yelped and stumbled back.
Connor brought his knees up to his chest before swinging them down, pushing off of the stand. The force slid his wrists out of the binding claws and unplugged a cord from his neck.
Connor fell to his hands and knees. He took two breaths before rushing toward Allen and ramming his abdomen. Connor straddled Allen without thought.
He found Allen’s pistol immediately and aimed it to his head. They were, no doubt, in a military facility. If he shot, it’d gain the attention of whoever was around.
Connor remembered the man who slapped him awake. Where was he? Would he come back? Could he make it out of the facility with just a pistol?
Where would he go if he did get out of here?
Connor took another breath. He’d solve that problem when he got there. But now, he had to deal with a smiling Allen.
“You gonna pull it?” Allen’s eyes didn’t leave the barrel.
“I won’t if I don’t have to,” Connor said, glancing behind him to keep an eye on the woman. She could be a problem.
His eyes found Allen’s again, still staring at the gun in his hand. Allen wasn’t stupid, he was planning. Connor couldn’t let him carry out his plan.
He should’ve snapped the Captain’s neck while he was standing, now I’d be much harder to kill Allen and Mara silently.
He might’ve caused too much noise just breaking free! Someone had to be coming! Or what if they’re waiting at the door!
He wouldn’t make it.
Connor took another breath and focused on Allen’s eyes. They were steady, determined to make himself unreadable. He was succeeding significantly.
He saw a thin wire cross his eyes and then he was yanked back. His eyes widened as a gasp left his lips. He was dragged off of Allen by his neck.
When he was finally able to plant his feet on the floor, he stood up. He put the pistol under his armpit and grabbed the wire wrapped around his throat. He took a step back and steadied himself, taking the control away from the woman. He then swiftly bent over, her grip so strong that she followed the wire and was thrown to the ground in front of Connor.
He didn’t mean to. He just wanted to survive. He didn’t even think when he brought his shoe down on her neck, the crack of her neck echoed in the chamber. Along with Allen’s scoff.
Allen.
Connor turned and saw Allen pulling his gun from his back. The rifle shined in the overhead light. His breath caught in his throat and Connor knew he wouldn’t survive that.
The blue pixels crawled once more.
A box on Allen’s head, another on the gun, and the last in between his legs
The box on his head saw that Connor took the pistol he tucked and put a bullet in his skull. That would cause too much noise. He’ll be rushed by someone outside.
The box on the gun had him reach for it, but Allen would shoot. Even if the bullet didn’t get to him, someone outside would be alerted, same with if he shot the man.
Lastly, his leg. Connor’s copy kicked the captain’s knees in, making him fall to the ground. He then stomped on the man’s neck, just as he did Mara.
Connor rushed forward, bringing his knee to his chest once more and flew his foot into Allen’s right knee. The man yelped and fell to the ground. There, Connor stomped on the man’s neck. Allen’s eyes traced the room frantically before finally going still.
It was like a gun went off with all of the ringing going on in his brain.
Connor grabbed the pistol from underneath his armpit and walked towards the door. He put his ear on the metal door.
Nothing.
Connor’s eye twitched.
The room was soundproof.
He cursed under his breath. He could’ve just shot them and been down. Connor shook his head.
Connor slowly opened the door, his grip on the pistol likely making thirium flow under his fingers.
“Cap-“ Connor put a bullet through the man’s head. He walked to the corpse and looked around.
No footsteps. No one was around.
Connor took the man’s clothes and put them on. He took another breath before pulling the visor of the helmet down. He spoke, imitating the dead man’s voice
He walked down the hall, pistol in hand and a rifle on his back.
He reached the elevator after only seeing around fifteen other soldiers. He greeted them all with his stolen voice. When the elevator asked for identification, he used the voice again.
He shook his head as he exited the elevator. He took one step, then two, then red was flashing across the pristine pearly white walls. He rushed toward the door. It was so close! Only a few feet away! He could get out of here!
Shots rang behind him and he watched a barrier start to crawl down the exit door. “Lockdown commencing. No officer is authorized to exit the facility at this moment,” a woman’s voice carried through the intercom.
The door was glass. The door was glass. The door was glass. The door was glass.
Connor crashed into the glass door shoulder first. It was tempered glass, likely bulletproof glass. Thirium rushed down his, definitely dislocated, shoulder, but he kept moving his legs.
The thirium leaking from his shoulder had begun to drip down his fingers when he reached his destination.
It wasn’t a luxurious house. One floor, painted terribly off white, and not too big. But this was a house he knew. And Connor found himself praying that this could be him home.
He knocked on the front door. A dog barked on the other side of the door. He heard the dogs paws on the kitchen tiles.
Connor knocked again, tears streaming down his face. “Please Lieutenant,” he rested his head against the door and whispered.
The doorknob clicked and the door opened. Connor fell forward and met carpeted floor.
“Jesus!” Connor used his uninjured arm to push himself up.
“Hank?”
“C’mon kid,” Hank groaned, looping his arms under Connor’s unharmed shoulder and helped him to his feet. Connor leaned on the wall next to the door, the bronze hook right next to his ears.
The old man looked outside, looking right, then left, then right again, before shutting the door and locking every lock. He wrapped Connor’s good arm around his shoulders and led him to his couch.
Thirium level dangerous, blinked in front of the TV.
“Alright! Now what the fuck happened to you?” Hank barely raised his voice. He was angered, but he didn’t put a hurting hand on Connor.
“Markus shot me.”
“He what!” Hank turned to the television, its embers emitting enough light to make the entire living room visible without any other help.
On the TV, they were showing a circle made up of miscellaneous things. Cars, wooden crates, it was all covered in pasty white snow. “He said that I wasn’t worth the risk.
Warning!
Warning!
Thirium level dangerous!
Hank took a breath and sat next to Connor. “Well, it looks like whatever Markus does decides if you’re staying here or not.”
“What?”
Hank turned to Connor. “Listen, I’m not heartless, yeah? I’m not gonna make ya walk outta here just to- what?- get shot?” Hank shrugged his shoulders then pointed to the television. “If he gets his shit together, then I’m sure you can walk outside without dying.”
Thirium level dangerous! Seek repair!
“That’s nice of you, Lieutenant.” Connor slouched backwards on the couch and shut his eyes. “That’s awfully generous of you.”
Hank scoffed. “Yeah, don’t get used to it.”
Shutting down in 5:34.
“Thank you for everything.”
Hank shot up and Connor’s eyes opened once more. “You’re getting shit all over my couch!” Hank sped off somewhere, Connor’s eyes followed him as he opened up a closet in the hallway to his room. Metal fell to the foot, bringing a rambunctious clang! with it. Hank stormed away from the closet after leaving it a few curses.
He carried a roll of black in his hand and a gray bag that seemed to pulse a light blue. “I’m gonna patch that up real quick.”
“Lieutenant, you are aware that my surface is not made out of adhesive, correct?”
“Listen,” Hank leaned down over Connor, blocking Markus’s demonstration with his body. “Duct tape fixes everything. You’ll learn soon enough.” Hank stuck the end of the tape where the rift between Connor’s shoulder and arm were supposed to meet and began wrapping the roll around the injury.
Shutting down in 4:43.
One side of Connor’s lips quirked upward. “Everything?”
“Yep,” Hank said, his eyebrows scrunched as he worked with the tape. “At least for the meantime. When you’re not openly a fugitive anymore, then we’ll take off the duct tape and you can get repaired.”
Connor nodded, watching the roll circle his broken arm again and again.
Hank ripped the tape after the twelfth circle and patted it on the surrounding tape. “That’ll do it.” He stepped back, admiring his work.
Shutting down in 1:22.
“C’mon, drink up.” Hank reached the grey packet out to Connor. Connor saw that it wasn’t actually gray, just a navy blue. He gingerly took the packet out of Hank’s hand and downed the thirium inside.
Thirium level medium, shut down cancelled.
Connor sighed, what he knew was relief flooded his system. “Thank you.”
That’s a weird spam comment that’s been going around. It’s debated on whether it’s some sort of mass troll, or a poor advertisement strategy for the mentioned “Sud*write ai”
Oh ok thank you anon!
Because that comment threw me off so bad and actively pissed me off-
I want to address this just in case this BS spreads to here
I got this comment on Bloodied Halls, part 2 of Bonds of a Lineage
I had to take a second before I flipped tf out
Hello guys, I’m Shade from @birb-boyo and I write everything slowly and, somewhat, carefully. So for some rando to call my writing “lifeless drivel” is really pissy
And also, what ego are we talking about???
But anyway, if anyone decides they want to challenge me, here’s just the planning for both Just like Old Times and Bloodied Halls and heck you can have the plans for the last chapter if you want because I started that too :)
Just like Old Times^(though the planning is like 500 words by itself so it’s not all of it)
Some spoilers for the ending if you care enough
Bloodied Halls^(the chapter ran on too long for everything to happen. This was supposed to be the ending but I wrote enough out of my ass to need a 3rd chapter)
And the next/last chapter
I’m still pretty pissed about the “lifeless drivel” thing
One day my shit is gonna be in bookstores then you can call it “lifeless drivel” when other people enjoy it.
