Violence-and-fun - Violence Isn't The Answer

Whispers

Legend & Wild fluff

1,579 words

Inspired by Hylia only knows what.

"Legend?" 

The veteran’s head turs to look at him, lifting from the very heavy looking tome he was reading, all curled up on the couch, feet tucked under himself and honestly looking so comfortable it almost seems a sin to disturb him. Nothing is said, but the question of what he wants is evident in the veteran’s eyes. 

“Can I hold you?” 

Legend blinks, once, twice, a third time. “Excuse me?” 

Wild shifts, limbs all too heavy and too light at the same time and nerves screaming in ways he can’t actually put words to. “Can I- I ne- want, I want to hold someone. I’m supposed to be holding someone? I don’t know what’s going on but-” 

The vet rolls his eyes. “In other words, you want cuddles.” Despite the snort in the words, he’s marking his place in his book and shifting upwards. 

That’s not exactly what Wild meant. “No, not really? I don’t-” he’s not sure if he should continue speaking or stop when the vet pauses, staring at him. “It’s not that I want cuddles, I’m not Sky. I just...” It feels like he ought to be holding onto someone. It’s strange, weird, unexplainable, but the warm house, the fire crackling softly away, the sounds of Malon and Time murmuring in the kitchen, the fading light and the soft sound of turning pages.... 

It’s like he’s drifting on the edges of a memory, like a vision just behind his eyes or around a shut off wall inside of his head. There’s something saying that he is meant to be here, that maybe this is home, maybe this is where a small part of him- one he’s never really sensed before- feels that things are familiar. Things are right. 

The fire crackling, the muffled laughter and dancing shadows in the kitchen. The rumble of Time’s indistinct voice, Malon’s sweet song like one rising beside it. The way the firelight dances over Legend’s features, softening harsher lines and washing warmth over fine features instead. Maybe it’s the dreamy expression that was on his brother’s face a moment before, or perhaps the crisp sound of pages hissing over each other, well-worn and faded. Maybe it’s the hints of scrawled out writing he’s peeked on the margins, or maybe the huddled posture of his companion. Maybe it’s the way there’s quiet outside, only the faintest sound of the wind just outside the windows. 

Maybe it’s the feeling of peace that’s settled over the house in the absence of the others. 

Over dinner, Twilight had suggested taking the rest out to sleep out in the barn for the night, up in the hayloft where they could watch the stars and enjoy the fresh air and have more space between them then laying out across the floor in one of the rooms in the house. Most of the others had been up for it, Sky the first to agree and Hyrule and Wind quick to follow, for differing reasons but with equal excitement. Hryule doesn’t like being indoors, and Wind enjoys the adventure of sleeping out in a barn, a rare experience for him that most of them are well familiar with. Warriors was the only one they’d had doubts about, but Twilight’s ribbing and teasing and a bet on whether the captain could make it through the night in a barn, laying on the straw amid the animals, had quickly changed that. Four had gone along, claiming he had to see it for himself, but that had left himself and Legend. 

Legend wanted to read his book and curl up on the couch where his joints were at ease. 

Wild wanted to enjoy the quiet. 

He loves his brothers, he does, but having so many people around feels wrong for some reason. Yet now, sitting alone in the quiet, it feels wrong to not have someone with him as well, even if Legend’s right there in front of him, pouring over the hefty tome that eeks of heavy, powerful magic. 

There’s something missing, something wrong, some sensation or want that could complete this picture but which he can’t name. There’s someone missing, and while he knows it’s not actually Legend, it’s someone like Legend, he’s sure of it. 

“You can say no.” 

The vet sighs, stretching. “It’s fine,” His guarded eyes say otherwise. 

“It’s dumb.” 

Violet snap at him, darkness in their depths for a moment. “No, it’s not.” 

He stares. 

Pink hair falls over the dark eyes that hold his own, but Legend doesn’t blink or push it away. “Look, Wild, far be it from me to say what normal is, but believe it or not, sometimes people want contact.” 

“Even you?” He challenges, disbelieving because Legend doesn’t tend to seek out contact from most of them. 

The flush on freckled cheeks is a betrayal, even if the words of the other hero are something else entirely. “Ravio and I had to talk about this. He needs contact sometimes, it’s okay to ask, just make sure you respect boundaries and stuff.” Legend shrugs, ears flicking back, flushed crimson at the tips, “just make sure to ask.” 

“So, if I want, I just have to ask?” 

“And if I say no, you listen, but yeah.” 

He blinks. “So, can I hold you?” 

It sounds weird, but Legend just grumbles and huffs at him in answer, never complaining directly even as he pulls himself out of the corner of the couch, gathering book and afghan to move over to Wild’s side. He stops once he’s standing in front of the champion though, frowning, feet shifting in the briefest betrayal of nerves. “So... what am I doing?” 

He frowns his answer, not quite sure. “Sit? I... I’m not sure. Just, be close?” It’s weird asking, but at the same time, the concept feels familiar for some reason, despite he and Flora having never done this. No one has done this before, as far as he recalls, although Tulin does tend to huddle up in his space in a way that’s almost what he’s wanting. It’s not the same though. 

The vet’s face twists, but he climbs up beside him, squirming and shaking out limbs as he tries to settle in, book and blanket both aiding and worsening his efforts. 

Like an old habit, or muscle memory, like picking up a sword the first time out of the shrine, he pulls the blanket away, letting Legend settle before sweeping the crocheted fabric around the shoulder that’s not nearly pressed against his own. 

Legend is just the slightest bit shorter than him, but curled up tight as he is, it’s a bit more than normal, especially with Wild sitting up straight beside him. Somehow that’s correct, by whatever strange criteria the foreign part of his memory has set. The dark eyes blinking up at him is also correct, somehow, the faint furrow between brows and the slightest scrunching of the nose in a question the vet doesn’t ask but which he reads all the same. 

“You can keep reading if you want.” 

Heavy lashes lower for a moment, raising as he’s fixed under another stare, and then shoulders are settling against the couch back with a huff and the vet’s book falls open again. 

The book is correct too. He's not sure how that could be, considering despite the fact that he can understand the lettering it still seems totally foreign to him. The words make sense separately, but the way they combine, the meaning is somehow lost, even though Legend follows them slowly, finger following the lines at times and faint murmurs hissing soft on his breath as he goes, long ears twitching back towards Wild every moment or so. 

He’s not sure why he settles his head atop of his brother's own, arms slipping down to wrap around the vet’s middle, but it feels right, and though the other starts a bit, he doesn’t cast him off, just sighs and goes back to reading. 

The magic in the book is heavy, wild, strange and foreign in a way that the flickering shadows cast by the fire are not. The book is weighty, not just in the gnarled hands that hold it, but in the air around it and the very existence of the earth. Time and Malon sound distant, and the only noise is the wind outside, the cracking of the flames and the faint puffs of breath he can feel escaping with every swell and fall beneath his hands. 

“Is it a magic book, Aryll?” He hears his own voice whisper, confused. 

Her smile is full of starlight, wild and sparking with delight as she lifts her head, meeting his eyes from where she’s curled beside him. “Yes!” 

“It doesn’t seem to make much sense,” he grouches to her, settling his chin amidst her hair and basking in the sunshine of her laughter.  

“Maybe you’re just dumb, I can understand it just fine!” 

“Really?” It’s disbelieving, his voice, but he knows there’s pride swelling in his chest as he says it. 

“Yes.” 

“Read it to me?” 

Legend’s dark eyes aren’t the glittering blue of the girl whose voice echos in Wild’s head, but they hold stars, bright and sparking, not as bright, not as warm, but just as charged, heavy with the same weight as the book in his hands. There’s confusion in them for a moment, before the vet settles, saying nothing of the chin in his hair or the way Wild pulls him closer.  

“If you insist.” 

$50,000 immediately dropped into my bank account wouldn't improve EVERYTHING but boy it sure would be a grand, sexy little start to a good, happy life path, don't you think

they went through a time gate and a dennys was on the other side

i had a dream recently that wild used the four sword and its magic split him into his past, present and future selves 🤔 so ofc i had to draw this concept

Danny, full grown and with a grown-up job, moved to Gotham because of the low cost of living.

After all, statistically speaking he was far more likely to survive a rogue attack than the average person.

Then he'd just...never left.

He'd happily lived in Gotham for twenty years, and after a 42nd birthday celebration with Sam and Tucker, took to the streets to go home.

He was not expecting to find The Batman leaning against a wall in an alley, hands flexing as he very obviously fought off pain.

"Uh...are you okay?"

A grunt.

"...Is it an immediate medical emergency?"

A slightly lower grunt.

"I...I have ice powers, if that could help?"

It turned out that yes, that was what Batman needed.

So there Danny was, with both hands encased in ice and resting on Batman's back.

Trying very hard not to notice the muscles under all that armor.

Bruce, meanwhile, was just relieved to find someone to alleviate his pain flare-up.

Twilight’s eyes were wide with distress. He opened his mouth twice before speaking. “Is that another Link?”

The child on the beach coughed and spluttered, buffeted by the tide. Their small hands sunk into the waterlogged sand before they managed to crawl toward the nearest palm tree. A fairy hovered nearby, its aura dim with unease.

“That’s… me,” Time croaked. In his satchel, he felt the pulse of the Zora Mask—an eddy, salt-rich and so, so mournful. There was a similar feeling from the child on the beach. “I don’t know how, but that’s me.”

Warriors took a deep breath as if to speak. Haltingly, he began, “He looks like you. As I remember you, I mean.”

“What do you mean, remember?” Sky asked. “You knew each other before?”

“Not exactly,” Warriors answered when Time could not. The child on the beach began to sob.

“Why are we just standing here?” Wild asked quietly, his feet rooted all the same. “We should be helping him. We should, right?”

Anxiously, Time reached for his ocarina. The color was faded after so many years. “I don’t… I don’t think we can.”

“Why not?” Legend asked, grief and kindness poorly hidden beneath a scowl. “He’s hurt. He’s hurting. You’re…” He cleared his throat. “You’re just a baby.”

The child on the beach struggled to pull himself together. He covered his head with his arms and asked ‘why’. The Oceanside Spider House lay like a tomb ahead of him.

“This is the third day,” Time told them hollowly. His stomach rolled and rolled and rolled. He fought the urge to double over. “We can’t interfere.”

Wind glanced between child and adult. “But what if—”

“We can’t,” Time said again, searching the sky for that haunting grimace. The ground rumbled tellingly. “People will die. It has to happen this way.”

A portal opened behind them, promising a new world. “This is cruel,” Warriors muttered, more furious than any of the others had ever seen him. “There’s no point to this but cruelty.”

In the end, the nine heroes left Termina without truly entering it—tourists to what had happened during some brief moment in time within time within… time. They glimpsed a broken child and left him to his fate.

The child did not notice. He panicked, then he carried on.

“Bruce isn’t my dad and I’m not part of this family” - Stephanie Brown PART 2

- When she talks to other people she sometimes says Dad. Usually to professors. Strangers and school friends.

- To her one of the reasons she doesn't call him Dad much is cause she correlates "Dad" with her bio dad and disappointment. To her and the other kids

"Bruce means dad. This does change eventually as she's around him more. Especially with some of the others calling him dad

- One of her college professors went on a rant about the rich and how they should burn and included Bruce on the list and it pissed her off cause she knows Bruce didn't really care about the money and if he didn't use it to help others he would rather not have it

- He started singling her out after he realized she was affiliated with Bruce. She kept her calm and asked him how much he donated to charity. The professor tried to claim Bruce only did it for tax purposes but he gave away way more then he would ever get back so moot point.

- One time one of her civilian friends lost their scholarship due to some technicality and Stephanie was thinking of getting a job to help and was talking to Tim about it. And by the next day it was fully paid. She thought Tim did it. But Bruce did it. He overheard them talking and got it done. Tim was so confused cause he knows he didn't and realized what Bruce did.

- Bruce wasn’t a man of many words, and she helped him realize that if he just got better at talking he would have a better relationship with his kids. She actually pushed him to therapy.

- One time she was hit hard and went down. She was out for a week. They weren’t sure if she was gonna make it. Bruce. Tim and Cass took turns sitting by her side. Bruce begged that if anyways listening to please save her.

Air lock

just found out i've been abandoned by god which means he's not watching anything i do anymore. you should come over.