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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 3 months

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BDOR Prologue: The Sword that Learned to Speak (Febuwhump Alt Prompt: Human Weapon)

TW: none

A little hum that Wild almost didn’t seem aware of danced upon the afternoon air as he stirred at the pot propped over the fire. His wooden spoon clack clacked against the metal edges of the cooking pot, and the fragrant scent of the herbal soup with mushrooms mingled with the impromptu music to create a comforting atmosphere that evening. Twilight stared at the kid over the campfire, chewing at a cuticle in thought as he listened. Ever since he’d met him about a month ago, he’d always been… quiet, for lack of a better word. No, there was a better word. That word was eerily, frighteningly, completely and utterly silent.

He didn’t make a sound around Twilight, if he could help it. He spoke solely in gestures that Twilight was only just beginning to learn how to translate, his body language guarded and his face near expressionless except for an annoyed scowl. Unflinchingly mute and stoic, he didn’t seem to voice a single verbal sound if he could help it—he didn’t laugh or cry or shout, didn’t even let out more than a few whimpers that one time a few weeks back that he’d gotten a monster’s arrow in his thigh and Twilight had been forced to dig out with no more equipment than a rusty dagger, a scrappy tourniquet, and a cheap bottle of alcohol. As time went on, Wild started to become more inclined to show that emotion on his face and through his posture—often in amusing mimicry of Twilight himself—but even then he was careful to walk and eat and even fight in near complete silence besides the clashing of blades in battle. Hell, Twilight wasn’t even sure if the kid farted. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

It had been a little better when he was only known to the boy as Wolf, but not by a lot. Wild still hadn’t spoken or laughed often , but at least when he moved he had a sound to him, rustling leaves as he walked past, humming or whistling songs that he seemed to have made up to himself. That was, until he’d discovered that Twilight and Wolf were the same, at which point he’d retreated into that stoic, almost unearthly silence around the both of them. One thing that Twilight had missed the most was the humming that Wild didn’t seem to realize he was doing now.

“Say, why’re you so quiet all the time ‘round me?”

The words were out before Twilight could reconsider their effect. And indeed, that hum in the air fizzled out abruptly, and the wooden spoon froze in its continuous circular path in Wild’s hand. The resulting look the kid shot Twilight over the cooking pot was guarded and icy, almost. His shoulders raised up to his ears defensively.

“I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked ya that. None of my business.” Twilight backtracked mentally, cursing his stupid mouth. Uli had always told him to think before he spoke, but he never seemed to be able to catch up with his stupidest thoughts before they were already past his lips. Maybe he could just pretend he hadn’t said it? Twilight rubbed at the back of his neck as he averted his eyes, pretending to find something interesting in the line of the treetops at the edge of camp, as he asked as casually as he could manage, “Say, how long until the food’s done, ya reckon?”

Wild let out a little long-suffering sigh—still more than Twilight had heard from him in the last few weeks—and set down his wooden spoon. He stood, then moved to sit opposite of Twilight, his face set into a concentrated frown. Twilight cringed, and apologies began to spill from his mouth.

“Listen, I’m sorry, I’m real sorry. I shouldn’t’ve asked nothing ‘bout it, I didn’t mean no…”

Oh. Twilight trailed off when he realized that Wild was moving his hands in that odd, focused way he did when he wanted to say something. Sign Language, the gestures were apparently called. Most people of Wild’s world seemed to know it, which hurt Twilight all the more that he himself did not. When Wild did deign to speak to him, their communication was rarely true sign, and more a bizarre game of charades to get across what he wanted to say, but Twilight would be damned if he didn’t try his hardest to understand.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Twilight sat back, eyeing him carefully. “Start over. And just a little bit slower please.”

A twist of Wild’s lips. His hand moved through the first gesture again: a sign that looked similar to no , then a flick of his wrist out from it into… a pointing motion?

“Uh no…. not…” Twilight fumbled, repeating the sign to himself. “Not… not… not going? Like your voice doesn’t work? I’ve heard you before, that ain’t true.”

Wild shook his head vehemently, then signed a combination of two simpler words, both of which Twilight recognized.

“No… good? Not good?” Twilight said to himself as he mimicked the sign. That received a nod of the head from Wild, and Twilight’s brow furrowed. “No good? Wait, what’s not good?”

Wild tapped his voice box, raising an eyebrow in emphasis.

“Your speech isn’t any good? Like it hurts to speak? Or it sounds bad? Ah, I get what you’re saying!” Twilight said triumphantly. But when he only received another shake of the head, he melted in sullen disappointment, crossing his arms. “Well nevermind then. I’m sorry, Wild, I ain’t understanding you.”

Wild wrung out his hands and abruptly shot to his feet, apparently deeming it all nothing more than an exercise in futility.

“No, no, no, don't leave!” Twilight yelped, scrambling up after him. “Wait, please just say it again, I’m doin’ my best to understand ya, I swear. Come back, please, gimme one more try.”

Wild, as requested, sat back down with another long-suffering sigh of his. He signed through a completely different phrase, his fingers moving far too quickly for Twilight to follow.

“Hold on, hold on, hold on!” Twilight sat up taller, waving at him to stop . “I wasn’t ready, I’m sorry. Slowly, please, I’m trying to understand. One word at a time, please.”

Wild’s frustration was nearly tangible in the air. Very pointedly, he tapped his own throat.

“Voice?”

A nod. Wild motioned pulling a sword from its scabbard.

“A sword… a—a weapon?"

This one also received Wild’s approval. The next word was a bit harder to understand. Wild signed no , then made a grasping motion towards himself, like taking something in both of his hands.

“Has?” A frown of disapproval and a shrug. Close, then. “Needs…. wants? Okay, so…” Twilight ran back through the words in his head, piecing them together. “A voice, a weapon… does not need? A sword does not need a voice?” Twilight furrowed his brow, thoroughly confused by now. “What weapon, Wild? We don’t even know where the Master Sword is yet. Do you mean that one?”

Wild shook his head, then placed a hand on his own chest.

“You the weapon? Wild, you’re not a sword, you’re…” Twilight’s tone was joking, but he trailed off as Wild’s face flashed to ugly frustration . He very emphatically pointed at his own chest again, then turned away pointedly, signing something that Twilight clearly caught as You don’t understand.

“Okay, Wild…” The kid was upset, now, no need to make it worse. “I, ah… I understand.” He did not understand at all, but at the same time, he was starting to think that he did. Maybe this silence was to do with something to do with his past that he couldn’t seem to remember. “Is… is food done, do you think?”

Wild scoffed, clearly not falling for that lie, and stalked back over to the pot. He stirred its contents, nodded to himself, and began to distribute the servings into bowls. Twilight stared at the top of his head, lost in thought.

A sword needs no voice? Who in his past had taught him he was nothing more than a voiceless weapon to be pointed towards an enemy?

Whoever it was, Twilight was going to have words with them, whether it be in this life or the next.

Visit this fic on ao3 here BDOR Prologue: The Sword that Learned to Speak or the Febuwhump series here HotCheetoHatred's Febuwhump 2024

Or, for any of you interested in the BDOR series itself, you can read the main fic here Blood Drops on Roses: Linked Universe and also check out other completed Prologue works here! BDOR Prologue: A Haircut ; BDOR Prologue: Ballgowns and Buffoonery ; BDOR Prologue: The Yiga and The Sheikah.

#linked universe #lu #linkeduniverse #cheetowrites #bdor #wild linked universe #lu wild #twilight linked universe #lu twilight #child wild #hylian sign language #i don't know sign language #i tried to research though #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhump day 13 #I"M A DAY BEHIND FOLKS #AAAAAAAAAAAA

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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 3 months

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Wild's Wolf: Febuwhump Day 6 -- "You (They) Lied to Me."

Tw: Implied child abuse, medical whump, human experimentation.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

Wild knew what was coming by now, when he heard the metallic chime that preceded the opening of that metal door. The hazy memory of rough hands and voices, fear and violation, and above all pain, pain, pain sent his heart racing.

Beeeeep! The door swung inwards with a slow fwoosh!

Wild backed himself into the furthest corner of his hiding spot underneath the bed, nearly sick with anxiety, as he eyed the man that stepped inside. That in and of itself was odd—these strangers usually dealt with him in overwhelming groups, so that any defense he tried to mount against them was easily crushed. The man even looked different—he wore not the universal white coats common to all of his tormentors, but instead a beige turtleneck sweater and black leather jacket. He was a lot taller than his regular tormentors, too, and broader, though he still had those rounded ears that Wild was learning to hate. The door hissed shut behind him.

He must be worse than all of the others combined, Wild determined, if he was willing to step into the room alone. And he was already coming towards him. Wild raised his shoulders, bracing himself for another fight for his life, a fight he already knew he’d lose like all the ones before it.

The man’s tall boots stopped at the edge of the bed. Then he crouched, stooping down to peek under the bed, and his single eye met Wild’s two. His singular eye. His other had been gouged out, signified clearly by the neat scar that ran over the closed eyelid. Vibrant, blocky tattoos streaked harsh angles across his face, and more climbed the column of his neck and poked out from the hem of his long sleeves. He was obviously strong and battle-worn, and he was coming for Wild.

A shiver of fear ran through the kid. A feral growl left him, and he scrambled back further into the little cranny made by the bed, ready to kick for all that he was worth as he bared his teeth. Oh Hylia, he wasn’t escaping this, he thought faintly.

The man blinked his singular eye owlishly at the response, then bared his teeth back in a wolfish smile. “Hey there, kid,” he said lowly, maintaining an intentionally jovial tone. “What are you doing under there?”

The professor’s voice crackled through the speakers. Behind the one-way glass, the researchers turned up the sound, tuning in through their earpieces.

The kid, of course, gave no response. Those odd long ears of his pinned themselves back against his head similarly to those of a wary cat. Time could see, now, the stark bruises left by cruel hands blossoming underneath the pale skin of his wrists and arms, the deep bags hanging underneath his terrified eyes. The hospital gown he wore hung loosely over his skinny, shivering frame. They hadn’t been kind to him.

If that was true, they’d be here for a while. He might as well make himself comfortable while he tried to earn a bit of the boy’s trust. Time lowered himself to the tile floor and sat against the wall with a groan, which prompted the boy to growl, louder that time. “Oh don’t be dramatic, I’m not threatening you, I’m just old,” Time said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m sure you’ll be making all these sounds too, one day.”

Those long ears flicked forwards curiously. A bit of the defensiveness left the boy’s coiled up posture at his tone, and the snarl on his face faded into something softer. Then his shoulders raised as he seemed to remember himself, and he shifted back again, hugging his knees to his chest as he looked away. He warbled something that Time couldn’t even begin to decipher, though it sounded familiar—and those researchers were right, that was not a human language—but given the fearful edge to his young voice, he could translate with mild confidence all the same. Who are you? What are you going to do to me?

“I’m not going to hurt you, kid, don’t you worry,” Time said soothingly. He reached into his pocket. “In fact, I’ve got a little treat for you.”

Time withdrew the crinkly aluminum packet in his pocket, and out of that a jabber nut. They were disguised as regular candy—chocolate covered walnuts would be a good comparison—so believably so that they’d been okayed by the researchers without a second glance. He offered one to the kid.

The boy gazed at the candy sitting in the center of Time’s palm, reaching hesitantly out to take it, then flicked his eyes back up to Time’s face. Whatever he saw there made him go pale, and he moved back, resolutely turning away. Still, he snuck childish glances at the piece of candy, like the refusal hurt him. His stomach audibly rumbled in the cold, silent room.

“Oh come on, drama queen, it’s not poison or anything. I know you want it,” Time said with fond amusement. He popped the jabber nut into his mouth, and he made a show of chewing and swallowing in demonstration before he fished out another for the kid. “There, I ate one. Not poisonous, see?”

The kid frowned up at him, looking between the jabber nut and Time himself like he was trying to figure out whatever trick was hiding there. He put his hand forwards as if to take it, then drew it back to his chest, his face clouded with indecision.

“Go on, it’s okay, kid.” It was like feeding an untamed, flighty cat—like one of the ones Malon kept out in the barn, who even after months of progress could be sent scrambling with any sudden move—but Time was nothing if not patient. He kept an easy grin fixed to his face and the lines of his body intentionally open and non-threatening as he scooted a little closer, shoving the offered piece of candy forwards with a little inviting thrust. “It’s for you, you can take it.”

The boy seemed to have a sort of debate with himself as he eyed the candy in Time’s hand, his hands twitching at his sides. Finally, the boy's face screwed up, and he snatched the candy out of Time’s palm. He shoved himself back into the corner of the crawlspace just as quickly—knocking his head against the bedframe in the process, which made Time wince in sympathy—and hunched over the jabber nut, turning it over and over between his fingers. Time only just held back a laugh as he took a long deep sniffffffff of the treat, then darted his tongue out to sneak a taste of the chocolate coating. He jerked back from it with a delighted sound, his long ears waggling similarly to an excited puppy’s tail.

This… was odd, Time thought, eyeing those too-familiar ears, the ones he hadn’t seen in decades, maybe even lifetimes. The researchers had contacted him on the basis of getting his help in establishing communication with some feral child they’d discovered living in the forest. They’d spun a tale of a child raised completely divorced from any other human civilization before now, a golden opportunity for linguistic advancement in the study of him that Time just couldn’t pass up. But they’d mentioned nothing of the obvious otherworldliness about the kid, though the picture they’d sent him had spoken magnitudes, and once he arrived, they were talking about differences in species.

Details were being withheld from him intentionally, it seemed.

Finally, the kid put the chocolate in his mouth, biting down on the jabber nut inside with an obnoxiously exaggerated crunch! Time smiled to himself and tapped at his watch, timing out exactly minute.

Time didn’t even have to wait for that long for the boy to grow bolder. He edged forwards until he was nearly at the edge of the bed, holding his hand out in clear request.

“I’m sorry, you can’t have another one. It's not good to eat more than one at a time.” Time shook his head pointedly, then shot a glance back at the one-way window at the opposite side of the room. The researchers had said that he’d eaten nothing since they’d “gotten” him what seemed to be days ago, poor kid. “Maybe we can request some food for you, huh?”

The kid muttered something back darkly, his disappointment clear in his pout. Time glanced down at his watch. 15 seconds.

“Y’know, I wasn’t always a language professor. If you know what a professor is, I don’t know if you have ‘em where you’re from,” Time began conversationally. “Before that I was certified as a child speech therapist. Turned out to be a good thing when it came to my dissertation, because they’re really the best when it comes to the model of language learning. Y’know, one of my favorite projects, they have this dialect of ancient Mayan out in the really rural parts of Central America, way down south from here, and anyways my youngest went out with me that trip, his mother was a nervous wreck, but I told her that we just had to go, especially since they put us up in one of the nicest hotels down there…”

It was always funny to watch a jabber nut kick into effect. The boy uncrossed his arms, furrowing his brow and frowning as Time continued to prattle on—talking at length was one of his strengths, he knew, whether or not there was something worthy of being discussed. The boy scrubbed at his eyes and pressed his hands over his ears before lowering them again, his expression a perfect picture of bewilderment.

“Wha…?” the boy managed to get out, his eyes wide. “...you can…?”

“Magic,” Time whispered with a conspiratory wink—a blink, really—and a grin. The researchers watching would see nor hear any of their conversation—to their ears Time would continue to speak English, and the boy Hylian. He tapped away at his watch again, setting another timer for 10 minutes. “What’s your name, kid?”

The boy bit his lip until it blanched between his teeth, studying Time’s face as if trying to determine his trustworthiness from sight alone. “...I’m… I’m not supposed to tell my name to strangers,” he said at last, dragging his fingers along the grout lines of the tile floor.

“My name’s Time Forrester. I have a wife, Malon, and a couple of kids of my own about your age,” Time answered. “We’re not strangers now, are we?”

The boy shrugged, shifting uncomfortably, but he finally offered up with a touch of shyness in return: “My… my name’s Wild.”

“Well, Wild, would you mind coming out here so that we can hold a real conversation?” Time said smoothly. “I don’t know about you, but my back’s getting all cramped, and there are two perfectly good chairs over there."

Wild shook his head, murmuring something about how they’d come back and hurt him that Time clearly wasn’t supposed to hear.

Time paused, chewing over that phrase. Then he spoke. “I know this is all confusing for you,” he said as diplomatically as he could manage. If he kept talking, he could almost pretend that his voice didn’t tremble. “I don’t know a lot, but I’ll do my best to answer any questions that you have, if you’ll answer mine in return, I promise. Is that all right?”

Wild nodded. And when Time stood, stretching out his aching back, then extended his hand down to him, Wild only hesitated for a second before he took it.

First Chapter >> Previous Chapter >> Next Chapter Coming Soon!

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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 3 months

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Hey guys it’s 3:30 am for me :D

#cheetowrites #cheetotalks #I drank coffee too late

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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 3 months

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Day 2 -- Solitary Confinement

Modern AU where young Wild is a feral forest child, raised by Wolf Twilight. He is captured, separated from Twilight, and put under observation. Confusion, claustrophobia, loneliness.

Wild missed the Wolf.

Well, he missed a lot of things. He missed his own clothes—his cloak, soft blue tunic and khaki trousers, even his shoes—which had been taken from him and replaced with a scratchy, backless gown that seemed to slip off his shoulders every time he dared to move. Even his hair tie was gone, and his long blond hair hung loose around his face. He missed the forest he’d lived in ever since that portal had snatched him up and dropped him in a world he didn’t recognize. He missed his cave that he called home and shared with the Wolf, and he missed the little trinkets the Wolf had brought to him he kept on the shelf next to his bed—his sketchbook, his few pencils, his stuffed replica of Wolf that he slept with every night that Wolf was away. He missed the sounds of the wind blowing through the trees and the birds singing from their branches and leaves rustling beneath his feet on the forest floor. He missed the sky, bright and blue above him.

It was all replaced with silence and this dim white room. Eerily steady lights hummed and flickered overhead, making his ears ring; the cold tile floor nipped at his toes anytime he ventured from the low bed in the corner of the room; the white walls burned themselves into his vision; the air itself, stale and heavy, weighed heavily against his chest with each inhale and exhale; and the one-way mirror on the opposite side of the room antagonized him worse than anything else, taunting him with his own bedraggled reflection.

Wild glared at that mirror, loathing it with all of his being. He imagined driving his fist through it and shattering it to pieces. He focused on a section of the glass, and he hoped that he was managing to stare down whoever was behind it, though he couldn’t tell. Those people hiding behind its shield—people with rounded ears and blinding lights in their hands and rough voices, that talked in a language that he didn’t understand—had been the ones that brought him here. That kidnapped him.

Wild hugged his knees close, curling smaller into himself where he sat on this unfamiliar bed, wedged in the corner of the white, sterile room. Even the bed itself was an odd thing, with dark blue covers covered in cartoonish shapes and the walls around it surrounded by faded, peeling stickers of stars and rainbows as far as one could reach. He thought it might have been meant to brighten up the atmosphere of the room, but the odd splashes of color clashed horribly with the white of the rest of the room, and it only made him all the more anxious.

Guilt and fear waged a battle in Wild’s chest. It was all of his fault that he’d been kidnapped by these strangers, he knew. The Wolf had warned him, with sharp nudges and low growls, from getting too close to the people of this world. People with rounded ears and language and machines outside of his comprehension, similar to the Divine Beasts, but also so different. They’d had a few close encounters—each time, Wolf had signaled for Wild to hide and driven the interlopers away with his fierce stature and glowing blue eyes—and afterwards, Wolf would move them deeper into the forest. He would drive it in, with his expressive glances and exasperated huffs, that these people were to be avoided, at all costs.

In his curiosity, Wild hadn’t listened to the warning. Last night—had it been last night? There was no sun by which to tell the time within here—he’d snuck away from the Wolf to explore one of those nearby villages, with its bright lights and tall buildings and roaring machines.

He’d only meant to have a little expedition, not even crossing the hard roads that crisscrossed the thinner parts of the forest. He’d only wanted a glimpse. But they spotted him, and before he could get his wits about him, he was surrounded. A group of them—all older than him, stronger than him—had run him down through the forest, cornered him against a natural cliff, caught him and wrestled him inside of one of their roaring beasts even as he kicked and screamed, crying out for the Wolf to save him all the while. He’d been too far from home by then, and the Wolf hadn’t heard.

Something had stabbed into his neck, an unnatural sleepiness had overcome him, and he’d woken up here, under the thin covers of that bed in the corner of the room.

Completely alone.

Wild wondered if the Wolf knew where he was. If he knew that he’d even been taken. Perhaps the Wolf was sitting at home, his head on his paws, as he wondered when Wild would get home to cook dinner from whatever he’d hunted during the day. Maybe it hadn’t been long enough, and he didn’t even know that anything was wrong. Wild’s heart clenched at the idea, and he turned his mind away from it, towards action.

Wild knew, rationally, that he had to escape and get back to the Wolf on his own, somehow. But he’d run through the scenarios a thousand times, and there was nothing in the room to help him get out. The door that trapped him here was thick and windowless, its handle stiff and guarded by some glowing square that the strangers hit little buttons on to open and close. He’d already crept over to it, and despite how much he fiddled with the contraption, it only flashed red and beeped at him unrelentingly. Both chairs in the room, as well as the metal table around which they sat, were bolted firmly to the floor, so he couldn’t use their edges to break that cursed window. The flap in the door through which they delivered food—which he had ignored earlier that day—was too small for Wolf to fit his muzzle through, nevermind for Wild himself to shimmy his way out.

And besides, those strangers were still watching him through that window. He couldn’t see them, but he knew they were there, observing his every move. It made his hair stand on end, to know that they could see him while he couldn’t see them in return.

And suddenly, frustration and anger seized Wild so fiercely that he was shooting to his feet and crossing to the one-way mirror before he even realized he’d moved.

“Let me out! Let me out of here!” he demanded in a yell. His reflection shouted back at him, wild-eyed and pale, its shoulders drawn up in defensive anger. He banged his fist against the glass, and it bowed slightly underneath the weight of his blow, but it didn’t break. “What do you want? Who are you people? Where am I? Where’s Wolf? What’s going on? I want to go home!”

There was a cup on the table, it had been there since he arrived. It was filled with some syrupy, sweet smelling liquid that Wild was sure was poison. In an instant, Wild had snatched up the cup and thrown it at the mirror. It bounced off of the glass with a brilliant spatter, then rolled along the floor, emptying the rest of its contents in a wide arc across the sterile white tiles.

“What’s going on? Where’s Wolf! I want to go home!” Wild’s voice rose to a hysterical shriek. “Let me out! I want to go home!”

Wild’s chest heaved with fury as he glared down the mirror, his ears pinned back and his teeth bared in animalistic anger. The mirror, as always, gave him no response.

And suddenly, the room seemed to be growing smaller, and the air thinner. This was it, the walls would close in and the ceiling would lower until he was crushed into a little tiny box. The room would run out of air, and he would suffocate. He’d be trapped here forever until he died, and he’d never escape those eyes that he couldn’t see, and he’d never find Wolf again.

Wild stumbled away from that cursed mirror, choking on air. He had to get away from those eyes, to get away from the white walls so that he could breathe . But how could he hide, when there was no way to escape this room? Somehow, he found his way back to that bed in the corner of the room, and a semblance of an idea managed to rise from the panic consuming his mind.

Wild threw himself underneath the bed, dragging down the covers of the bed to the floor like a curtain to hide himself, and wedged himself into the far corner of the small space. With the eyes finally off of him, his breathing eased, but not by a lot. He hugged his arms around himself, breathing in and out with a count of eight just like Wolf had taught him.

He longed for Wolf so much that it brought tears to his eyes. Wolf would have curled up next to him underneath this bed, poking him with his cold, wet nose until Wild uncurled and buried his face in his thick fur instead. He would’ve walked him out of here and taken him home, where his surroundings had color and sound and natural light, where he wasn’t watched and where things made sense. Instead, he was here all alone, and it was all his fault.

Hylia, he missed Wolf.

Visit me on ao3! Day 2 -- Solitary Confinement

Yeah so basically this is an AU i've been sitting on for a few years that's like Pete's Dragon but instead it's Wild's Wolf and also he gets taken to freaking Area 61 because he's from another world and got those long elf ears. Listen, I don't really have this thing fleshed out. Anyways let me know what you think :D

First Chapter >> Next Chapter

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #wild linked universe #lu wild #wild lu #twilight linked universe #tbf he isn't really here #but he's mentioned a lot #also he's a wolf not actually a person #haven't decided if he can transform or if wild knows if he can #i am in awe of all you modern au people #linked universe au #cheetowrites #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday2

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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 4 months

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Introduction Post (Updated 3/23/2024)

Hello strangers and acquaintances, friends and enemies, welcome to the blog! I'm HotCheetoHatred (or just Cheeto, if you prefer) she/her, fanfic writer, broke college student, and mayonnaise hater! I mainly engage with Linked Universe, but I may occasionally reblog other things. My ask box is open!

For more information, including common tags and a planned chapter list for my fic Blood Drops on Roses, and links (heh) to some of my other works, see below the cut.

Note: BDOR is on Hiatus until May

Common Tags:

My general tags:

#cheetoasks #cheetotalks #cheetoanswers

Tags for my writing:

#bdor #blooddropsonroses #cheetowrites

Other common tags:

#not mine #cheetoficrec #pretty art #miracle whip propaganda #cursed consumables with cheeto #blessed consumables with cheeto

Chapter Lists (Subject to Change):

Blood Drops on Roses (Arc 1):

The Beginning

A Quiet Morning

Chasing Cuccos

An Oddity

Negotiations Pt 1

Negotiations Pt 2

Broken Pt 1

Broken Pt 2

Little White Lies

Reunion

The Matriarch

Doubts Pt 1

Doubts Pt 2

Failure

A Trail of Blood and Shadows Pt 1

A Trail of Blood and Shadows Pt 2

A Trail of Blood and Shadows Pt 3

A Trail of Blood and Shadows Pt 4

Settling In

Bargaining: The Third Stage of Grief

A Stressful Night (D:<)

Noble's Warning

The Wolf

Differences

A Friendly Spar

Rito

A Monster Fight (D:<)

Stitches

Guardians

Hateno Fort (D:<)

An Unfriendly Spar

A Covert Meeting (D:<)

Bows and Beetles; Stars

Too Quiet

A Frantic Search

A Call for Help

Heal

[Redacted]

A Midnight Snack

Little Talks Pt 1

Little Talks Pt 2

A Conspiracy

Rusting on the Forest Floor

Omissions

Sink or Swim

[Redacted]

Cooking Pt 1

Cooking Pt 2

Lunch and Dinner

The Heavy Mantle of a Hero

Ruse

Ancestry

Onto the Next Adventure

Centenarians

A Question of History

A Golden Rupee

Home

An Esteemed Guest Pt 1

An Esteemed Guest Pt 2

An Alley Fight

Fireworks Pt 1

Fireworks Pt 2

A Soft Night

Trust

Resolutions (D:<)

[Redacted] (D:<)

An Interesting Request

Returning

Scolding Pt 1

Scolding Pt 2

Interrogation

Lies

The Last Straw

[Redacted]

Storm

A Last Stand

Settling In

Warnings

A Sweet Memory

The Haircut (?)

Exchange

Blood Drops on Roses (Arc 2): Coming Soon!

Prologue (Really Subject to Change):

The Yiga and The Sheikah (7/7)

A Haircut (5/5)

Ballrooms and Buffoonery (1/1)

The Sword that Learned to Speak (2/?)

The Wolf that Learned to Sign

The Trap (1/3)

The "Prank"

Memories

Horseshoes and Storm-y Tempers

Runaway

The Wolf in the City

ABC's and Black Eyes

Alla'yall'd've

Revali's Gale

Daruk's Protection

Urbosa's Fury

Mipha's Grace

After the Calamity

No Air to Breathe

FebuWhump:

Individual Stories:

Day 1 — Helplessness (Time POV & Legend)

Day 9 — Bees (Wild POV & Wind)

Day 10 — Killing In Self Defense (Sky POV & Warrior)

Day 12 — Semiconscious (Four POV)

DAY 24: "I'm Doing This Because I Care About You" (Legend POV)

Modern AU "Wild's Wolf"

Day 2 — Isolation (Wild POV & Wolf)

Day 4 — Obedience Pt 1 (Time POV and Wild)

Day 6 — "You (They) Lied to Me" (Time POV & Wild)

Day 15 — "Who Did This To You?" (Time POV & Twilight)

Who Heals the Healer?

Day 3 — "Bite Down on This" (Four POV & Warrior)

Day 7 — Suffering In Silence (Hyrule POV)

Day 21 — Unresponsive (Legend POV)

The Captain's Sacrifice

Day 5 — Rope Burns (Wind POV & Hyrule)

Day 16 — Human Shield (Warrior POV & Legend & Twilight)

Day 17 — Hostage Situation (Warrior POV)

DAY 22 — "You Weren't Meant to be There" (Wind POV & Warrior)

Cracks in the Ice

Alt 7 — Last Words (Twilight POV)

ALT 5 —CPR (Legend POV & Wind)

The Yiga

Day 19 — "Please Don't" (Legend POV)

DAY 25 — Waterboarding (Wild POV)

DAY 26 — "help them" (Time POV & Legend)

The Dangers of Dungeon Diving

Day — 14 Blood-Stained Tiles (Warrior POV & Legend)

DAY 23 — Presumed Dead (Sky POV & Twilight)

A Sick Dog

DAY 27: left for dead ALT 10 — Last Man Standing (Twilight POV, Four, & Wind)

DAY 28 — "No... not like this" (Hyrule POV, Wild & Twilight)

DAY 29 — Not Allowed to Die (Wild POV & Twilight)

Congrats on making it this far, go drink some water. The list above will update alongside new releases. I will strive to release one chapter of BDOR or Prologue every weekend, and if I am putting out a lot of Prologue, know that the main fic is fighting me (even though it's already 90% written, it's just rude to me D:) and send help XD.

#I hope that I did this right #everyone else did a intro post #I wanted one too #bdor #blooddropsonroses #cheetotalks #linked universe #linkeduniverse #should I be doing an introduction post in the main tags?#sorry ya'll please be patient with me #I am new to the internet XD #intro post #blog intro #I SEE ALL OF YOU LIKING THIS BEFORE I FINISH IT #QUIT IT #cheetowrites

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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 3 months

Text

Wild’s Wolf: Febuwhump Day 4 -- Obedience (Modern AU)

“Tell me about him,” Time said as he walked down the dim research facility’s hallway, flipping through the binder in his hands. He’d already scanned through its pages at the dinner table that morning over his coffee, and again as Malon, his lovely wife, drove him to work for this impromptu… assignment. The boy’s picture sat taped in the back of the binder. He glared up at the taker of the picture viciously, his too-sharp teeth bared in a snarl and those odd long ears of his pinned back against his head. His blue eyes were pale, his skin nearly translucent against the white wall behind him. “He doesn’t look very happy with you people.”

A dry laugh. “He’s not. Appears to be male, approximately twelve years old, assuming that his species ages similarly to humans,” said the researcher walking alongside him. “Has blond hair, blue eyes, and heavy scarring along his left side. Hasn’t spoken a word we could understand since we caught him out near the city a few days ago. He’s been obstinate, aggressive—”

“I’ve read all of that in the reports you’ve given me. I want to hear your impression of him.”

They thought for a while. They stopped in the hallway, then led him into a room. Many other researchers in lab coats sat at computers or peered through the window taking up the far wall of the room. Beyond it was the room in which they held the… subject. It appeared to be empty.

“... he’s just a scared kid, I think,” they said at last. Time furrowed his brow, opening his mouth to ask just where he was, but they pointed towards the bed in the corner of the room. The covers of the single bed had been dragged down to form a sort of wall around the bed frame, but Time thought he saw glinting eyes in the shadow behind it. “He’s in there, hiding. Has been since the first day we got him. We had to drag him out kicking and screaming to run his labs yesterday, it wasn't pretty. Hasn’t eaten or drunk a thing we haven’t given him through an IV, so far.”

Time sighed, thumbing back through the folder. “And you have me here for the linguistic issue?” he confirmed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. He’s shouted at some of us a few times, but his language is unlike any we’ve ever heard. Figured that we’d give you a call since you’re the great professor, see if you could figure out what we’re dealing with.”

“Of course, of course.” Time dropped his hand to his pocket, checking whether the pouch that held his jabbernuts was still there. Magic made it surprisingly easy to make a living as a linguistics professor with a knack for quickly learning any language he encountered. It wasn’t like he was expected to teach anyways, and captive audiences were the best ones, after all. Of course, if anyone found out about that magic… he was already cutting it too close, having government agencies contacting him for his abilities. Time returned his attention to the room across from the glass. “What are your plans for… him?”

“Confidential information, I’m afraid,” they replied smoothly. “All we need from you today is a confirmation of whether or not he speaks a human language. We may bring you back if we need to set up a mode of communication with him, but for now we’re just wondering about his capabilities for communication at all—level of intelligence and all that.”

“I understand,” Time answered, gazing through the window. “What… what is he? He’s not human, I believe you insinuated?”

“Will you be needing anything else?” they asked brightly, stepping between him and the pane of glass. “We’d like to get this done quickly, if at all possible.”

Time knew by their tone that it was time to stop asking questions. “No, no, I don’t need anything but an hour or two with him.” He swallowed thickly. “Thank you. Show me to him, please?”

“Gladly. Follow me.” They led him out into the hallway, then to an adjacent door. “Just be careful, he’s a biter. But I’m sure you’ll be fine.” They tapped at the keypad, then spoke into the little microphone mounted to the wall. “Open the door!”

It swung open with an eerie creak. Time took a deep breath, then stepped into the room.

First Chapter >> Next Chapter

#febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday4 #cheetowrites #cheeto writes something in 10 minutes becaues she got busy today and did not write anything #GAH #oh well #I did plan for this to be longer #I'll probably update it with another chapter even if it doesn't fit a febuwhump prompt

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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 3 months

Text

Yall just gonna let me embarrass myself huh

#cheetotalks #cheetowrites #bdor #blooddropsonroses

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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 25 days

Text

BDOR Prologue: Shadows (1/2)

Wild attempts to draw the Master Sword for the second time. It does not go how Twilight thinks it will. Tw: Threats towards children, fainting.

“Wild, stop! You’re going to hurt yourself!” Twilight, squinting through the glare, jumped up onto the raised platform. He ignored Deku’s voice booming in warning as he stooped to see Wild’s face and snapped his fingers in front of his nose. It was useless��Wild’s eyes were faraway, his bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat. He wasn’t going to let go, not until it killed him. He didn’t even seem to be pulling anymore, not really—instead, it was like the Master Sword was draining his life in front of Twilight’s eyes, pulling his very life down through its hilt and leaving an empty, quickly-paling husk behind.

“Wild—!” Twilight reached for his hands, to pry him off the sword.

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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 3 months

Text

Febuwhump Day 12 -- Semiconsciousness

Four hated the portals.

He hated them for a lot of reasons, a lot of good reasons. It was never fun to be swept off of one’s feet and deposited into a world that wasn’t their own. It separated friends from friends—his heart ached for Shadow—inhabitants of eras from their own timelines, it even stole one of his earrings, one rough morning where they were all stolen directly out of their beds. Sometimes the heroes found themselves dropped into chaotic battlefields, into icy tundra, into the very middle of deep lakes, every time without warning before and usually without a chance to catch a breath afterwards. The portals were uncomfortable, inconvenient, and above all, inconsiderate to those that they ferried from era to era as if they were nothing more than cargo to be taken wherever the whims of the Goddess pleased.

But the headaches that came with them, every blasted time. Oh, the headaches, and the nausea, and the disorientation. That was enough to make Four want to hang up his mantle of hero and go take a long, undisturbed nap, hopefully one that lasted forever. Unfortunately, that nap was not available because he was one of those said heroes, and a hero did not rest until their quest was completed, especially not in an era that wasn’t his own.

Still, it seemed that they had been dropped neither into a battle nor a lake this go around, and the grass upon which he found himself lying was nice, all things considered. Four didn’t remember stepping into the portal, and he didn’t remember stepping out, but the headache brewing behind his eyes and between his temples was testament enough to what had happened. The memory would come later, it always did when he thought about it hard enough. But he’d do so later, when everything wasn’t quite so sunny and swoopy and off balance. Four let out a hiss and threw an arm up over his eyes, shielding them from the brightness of the sky that he knew to be looming overhead. He gripped his fingers into the long strands of grass cushioning his rest, anchoring himself to earth spinning underneath his back—if he got up now, in his untethered state, he almost feared he could be flung off of the surface of the planet itself with the momentum of its rotations, and he’d be lost among the stars, his quest forever unfinished.

That’s a little dramatic, Vio, Four thought to himself. Nevertheless, he didn’t let go of his handholds that kept him anchored to the world itself as his head spun and throbbed and churned.

No, that was his stomach churning. He was going to vomit, Four realized with a start of rising panic. Abandoning his hold of the grass, Four only just managed to prop himself onto an elbow and lean over before his stomach emptied its own contents quite violently. Once the contractions wracking his body and compounding with his aching head to make his body into an unholy roar of pain passed—there went Wild’s rice and mushrooms that he’d made them for breakfast—he reared away from the puddle of sick, groaning.

“Foooour~,” Warrior’s voice drawled in a sing-song tone nearby. “Smithy, how’s it going over there? Don’t tell me these portals still get to you.”

Cheeky bastard. Warrior had never had a problem with the portals, owing to his experience with them in his War of Eras, a few years before he’d met the rest of them, he claimed. Realistically, Four knew it was a blessing that at least one of their members could be expected to be completely level-headed upon stepping out of a portal, no matter how bumpy the ride may have been, so that they were equipped to defend themselves and ready to face whatever threat was on the other side of it; right now, Four wished he could make him experience just a fraction of what it felt like, even if he had to throttle him to get the intended effects.

“Alright, Captain,” Four answered blearily as he pushed himself up onto his elbows with the greatest effort. His eyes streamed from the combination of the bright sun, his still-growing headache, and his earlier vomiting—at the thought his stomach clenched, threatening to go again—so that he was only able to open them in little pathetic slits. “Just dizzy.”

“Wow, it really got you this time,” Warrior laughed. Tall boots stopped in front of Four, just at the edge of his vision. “Can you walk, you think?”

Four took stock of his own condition, considering it. His body existed as one uncoordinated pulse of pain—his head throbbing, his stomach churning, the world still tilting and swooping jerkily beneath him, though it didn’t seem in danger of catapulting him into the stratosphere anymore. “No…” Four began, his tongue heavy with guilt. They’d have to compensate for him, again, like they almost always had to. “I don’t think so, Captain. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for, dear Smithy, we’ve got you,” Warrior quipped back. Those boots walked away, and Four dropped his head into the cool grass, squeezing his eyes shut, as another wave of nausea and dizziness threatened to consume him. “Everything looks to be safe right now. Twilight, can you carry him?”

A grunted answer, then a shadow fell over Four. Four sighed, bracing himself as best as he could manage, and blindly thrust a hand upwards. What had to be Twilight pulled him up and off of his feet completely—Four pressed his lips together tightly as he fought to breathe through the new wave of nausea that arose from the movement, he would not vomit all over Twilight—and he found himself slung over furry shoulders similar to a baby lamb with a broken leg.

“Thanks…” he mumbled, heat rising in his cheeks, as he tucked his forehead against Twilight’s cloak. Nearly every portal, now, the heroes were forced to compensate for him. While the others’ tolerance had grown better over time, his only seemed to get worse and worse. “I hate this…” The words were already past his lips before he realized that he’d said anything at all.

“Don’tchu worry your pretty lil’ head ‘bout a thing,” Twilight answered affectionately. He tugged Four’s hood down over his face for him, sending the bell at the end of it jingling. It blessedly blocked out the worst of the sun, allowing him to un-squint his eyes at last. “You just get yourself some rest, n’ we’ll find you somewhere to lie down for a bit, yeah?”

That sounded like a good idea, actually. In seconds, Four was out, slumbering uneasily against Twilight’s shoulder as the world rocked in a steady rhythm beneath him, the movement no longer nauseating but instead lulling him to deeper sleep.

Read this on ao3! HCH Febuwhump Day 12 — Semiconscious

Or check out the whole series here! HotCheetoHatred's Febuwhump

#linked universe #lu #linkeduniverse #cheetowrites #four linked universe #four lu #lu four #linked universe fanfiction #linked universe fanfic

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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 2 months

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Wild's Wolf (Modern AU): Febuwhump Day 15--Who did this to you?

When they escaped the compound in a sprint and piled into Time’s rusted old truck, peeling out of the dimly lit parking lot with a shriek of rubber against concrete, he did the first thing he always did when he got himself into trouble.

He called Malon.

Time’s knuckles blanched white around the steering wheel as the phone rang all the way through on the first try, as well as the second and the third. On the fourth ring, she finally picked up.

“Link.” Her sleepy voice warbled through the phone’s old speaker. She sounded… pissed. “What’re you doing, calling at two in the morning? Why aren’t you in bed? When did you slip out? Where are you?”

“Sorry dear, a work thing came up—”

“—Who’s talking?” came the frightened bark from the backseat. “Where’s ‘at voice a’coming from? Mr. Time?”

“—do you have someone with you, honey?” Malon asked, sounding fractionally more alert now. There was a shifting on the other side of the line, likely Malon pushing back the covers and rising out of bed. “What’s going on? What in the world did they say?”

“Don’t worry about it, kid, it’s just my wife,” Time said lowly, then raised his voice to be heard over the speaker. “Yes, sweetheart, listen. I’d love to answer all of your questions when I see you. I’ll be home in about thirty minutes.”

Time glanced up into the rear-view mirror. The agency hadn’t given chase, not yet anyways, given the dark, empty highway road stretching out behind them. The wolf boy—Twilight, Time had gathered after their most recent conversations, not just Wolf —cradled Wild in his arms, braced awkwardly against the movements of the car and looking every bit a caged animal as he watched the world speed by outside the car’s dusty windows. Wild himself lay slack and quiet across the backseat, dried blood spilling over his pale face from the gash at his hairline. Time wasn’t sure if he was fully conscious or not—his torn hospital gown made it hard to tell if he was even alive, the way it washed him out.

Malon said nothing to his dismissal, patiently waiting for some explanation in the crackling silence. “We’re, uh…” Time broke at last as he turned his eyes to the road. “We’re going to be having some… guests this morning. Would you mind to prepare the guest bedroom? And get out that old med kit you’ve got in the top of the dresser, while you’re at it. And that bag of chocolates in my desk drawer.”

“The med kit? Are you hurt?” Malon’s next words were low, tense. “And just who are the guests you’re bringing home with you?” A heavy sigh. “What have you gotten yourself into now, Fairy Boy? ”

Time winced. “Nothing—nothing bad,” he lied through his teeth as he again checked the rear-view mirror. Still no cars tailing him, yet. Good. But they knew where he lived. His house would be the first place they checked, if they decided to come after him despite his threats to go to the news about their whole secret human experimentation project. “M-m-make sure that the boys stay in bed, Malon, we can explain things to them in the morning. And don’t forget those chocolates.”

“Alright, Link.” A heavy sigh rang out from the other end of the line. “You better know what you’re doing.”

Click!

Time resisted the urge to slam his own forehead against the steering wheel. “Oooooh, she’s gonna be so upset about this,” he said to the empty air. “I’m going to be out in the doghouse for a month.”

“You did not tell me that your wife is a fierce goddess, Mr. Time,” Twilight whispered, wide-eyed. Those long ears of his stood pricked up and alert, nearly completely upright as they swiveled as if to catch her voice again. “That she may use her powerful influence to project her holy presence to our lowly senses, whilst she is absent from this place of being herself? And yet you dare to incur her wrath upon yourself, so much so that she shall transform you into a lowly dog? What offering must we make to appease her fury?”

Aaaaaaand that was their jabber nuts reaching the time limit of their magic. “No, she’s not a goddess, and that’s just a figure of speech.” Time restrained himself from making a joking comment about her in regards to that—he’d just confuse the boy more. He dug into the sack of candies in his front shirt pocket and passed two jabber nuts back, careful to keep one eye on the road. “Take another one of these. See if Wild will eat one as well.”

Twilight hummed suspiciously, muttering something to himself that Time could no longer parse out without the jabber nut’s magic, but took the chocolate candies from his palm. Time popped another one into his own mouth just as headlights appeared on the horizon behind them. He veered off the nearest exit and turned on the winding road that led through the woods and eventually, to the farm.

“D’you reckon he’ll be alright, sir?” Twilight asked a few quiet minutes later. “He’s lookin real hurt back here. Ain’t woken up once since we hightailed it out of that curs’ed place.”

Time smiled at the sudden difference in the sound of his voice. The jabber nuts were funny in that they not only translated the meaning of a person’s words, but they also conveyed how that person’s words would come across to a native speaker. Not only did that mean tone indicators such as sarcasm—underneath the jabber nut’s magic, Time did not hear that upwards lilt of an interrogative with Twilight’s question, perhaps their language had a specific word that signified such a thing—but it also imbued an accent, when applicable. For Wild, his voice was an unremarkable American English, which meant he likely spoke the most common iteration of their language. For Twilight, the jabber nut’s magic chose to give him a deep, drawling southern accent. Perhaps he had originally been a farmer, or he hailed from a stereotypically less educated corner of their home country, or maybe he was just from a rural area. Time could only guess what the magic had picked up on. The academic, professorly side of him noted it as something to look into more deeply later.

“I’m sure that he’ll be fine, he just needs to sleep off whatever they did to him,” Time said smoothly. But the vicious blow to the Wild’s head and the jerking of his thin body from the electricity's effects after those researchers had shocked him for daring to fight back—it might take a little bit more than a good night’s sleep to heal. “Malon—that’s my wife who you heard talking earlier—will fix him right up, I’m sure of it.”

“So, I reckon I did understand that right, earlier—that’s where you’re taking us? To your wife?” Twilight mumbled as he leaned his arm against the window, watching the world fly by. His hand carded absently through Wild’s bloodied hair. “You said that you’d help me get him back, an’ we’d be free to go. You ain’t never mentioned taking us nowhere other than back home.”

Time’s heart ached at the kid’s betrayed, defensive tone. “I did say that. And you will be home, soon, I promise,” he soothed. As if the forest they’d survived in before would be safe anymore, given that people knew about them now. Time shook his head. That was a bridge to cross and a conversation to have another day. “I’m just taking you to my home to make sure that Wild’s okay. You want him to be okay, don’t you?”

Time felt even worse, then, for turning such horribly manipulative phrasing upon the kid in order to gain his compliance. But it worked, and Twilight shrunk into himself with a meek nod.

“Good. We’ll be there in 15 minutes.” Time peered at the both of them in the backseat. Twilight was nearly standing now in order to withstand the jostling movement of the car on the winding country roads. His back was pressed against the car door and legs braced stiltedly against the floorboard, turning him all askew where he tried to keep Wild’s head in his lap despite such a position. Wild’s eyes remained closed. “Sit down and put your seatbelt on, Twilight. It’s dangerous to be unbuckled in a moving car.”

“Put on my what?” Twilight’s icy blue eyes snapped to Time, his ears pinning back in alarm. “Dangerous to be unbelted in a what?”

Ah. The jabber nuts, despite their magic, did not have the power to translate everything, especially when a concept was not shared between respective languages.

“Nevermind,” Time muttered, turning onto another street. “Just stay seated and hope that I don’t crash before we get there.”

Finally, they pulled into the gravel driveway. Battered fence posts ran along either side of the road, penning in the horses and cows that would all be asleep in the big red barns at the backside of the property. The vegetable gardens lay to one side; the white farmhouse loomed on the other side at the top of the hill; the kitchen light flicked on, and if Time squinted, he could spot Malon’s silhouette shadowing the window.

“Listen, boys, we’re here.” Time spoke up. Twilight, previously nodding off, jerked to attention in the backseat. Wild remained still, but Time thought he saw his eyes flicker open at his words. “When we go inside, I want you to go and sit in the living room. I’ll talk to Malon. She’s likely gonna want a pretty good explanation on all of this, and I’d rather it come from me.”

“An’ if she turn you inta dog?” Twilight asked tremulously. Wild made a little confused noise on his lap, and Twilight returned to petting his head, looking very, very stressed about the idea. “What’re we s’posed to do then?”

“She’s not going to turn me into a dog, Twilight,” Time answered tersely. She may kill me, though. He knew better than to voice that thought—the jabber nuts were clearly not doing a good enough job to translate the idea of irony to the poor kid. Time pulled up the car to the garage, parking in front of the closed doors. “Alright, everybody get out.”

Just as Time stepped around the vehicle to release a trapped Twilight from the backseat—he’d forgotten the boy wouldn’t know how to use the latch—the front door to the house opened. Light spilled onto the driveway.

“Link!” Malon’s scolding voice nearly made him cower in its intensity. “Just where have you been? Two in the morning, calling me telling me—”

“Shh, shh, shh, shh!” Time begged, waving his arms. He raised a finger to his lips. “One’s got a head injury, you’re gonna hurt his ears.”

Malon took in a deep, preparatory breath, but right on cue, Twilight unfolded himself out of the car—a mess of lanky limbs and unsteady after the long, unfamiliar ride—and her lecture petered out then and there. He clutched Wild, still so small and shivering, to his chest. “Uh… ‘Lo, Mrs. Malon.” Twilight seemed to attempt to dip into a respectful bow, but the precious cargo in his arms made it difficult to complete the gesture. He ended up bending his head over Wild, the tips of his ears downturned. Always with the ears. Time didn’t remember there being so much body language about them. But it had been decades since he’d last seen them, after all. “Nice t’meet you, ma’am.”

“Oh my god, where did you get two kids?” Malon whispered, her hands over her mouth. “Looks like you picked up a hobo and a psych ward escapee.”

“Like I said, work,” Time said briskly, retrieving and shouldering his professor’s satchel from the passenger’s seat. “Did you eat one of the chocolates already?”

“Of course I did, Link.”

“Then stop insulting the poor boys, because they can understand you, too, and they’ve been through a lot today.”

Malon huffed, crossing her arms as she looked over the two. Twilight stepped forwards, then, and his knees seemed to shake underneath him beneath her gaze, but he stood tall. “I’ve heard lots about you from Mr. Time, kind ma’am. Can… can you help my lil brother, please?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say the same. My husband likes to keep his secrets, it seems.” The look Malon sent Time was deadly. Then, as if on a dime, her voice changed to a soft, motherly coo as she turned her attention to Wild. “Oh, you poor boy, you." She placed a gentle hand over his forehead, brushing his bangs to the side; he gazed back, his eyes open but glassy and unseeing. "Who did this to you?”

“C’mon inside, dearies, I’ll get you and your little brother all fixed up, and get you something to fill your stomachs too?” She took Wild from Twilight with ease—and Twilight let her, surprisingly enough—then headed for the front door. “And while we’re doing that, my husband and I will talk. That sound alright to you?”

“Yes ma’am!” Twilight followed her readily inside, a skip to his step that Time had never seen from him before. Time trailed far behind, a shadow staying out of Malon’s blazing sight. Oh, he was in so much trouble.

Read this on ao3! Wild’s Wolf - Chapter 4

Or check out the whole series here! HotCheetoHatred's Febuwhump

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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 3 months

Text

Febuwhump 2024 Day 1 — Helplessness

Time wished he’d listened to his gut.

A portal had dropped them off in Hyrule’s Hyrule that afternoon. It was a blighted land—wilted grass and trees, a dark sky, riverbeds empty of both fish and water. There wasn’t any civilization nearby, at least none that Hyrule disclosed, so the rest of the boys grumbled underneath the baking heat of the sun and slapped at mosquitos—the only thing that seemed to live in this particular section of the wasteland that was Hyrule—as Hyrule led them on towards “somewhere they could find some shelter until they figured out where they were going.” Time looked over them all, counting heads: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, himself making nine.

It had been a hard day—a hard week. Running from hordes too large and too dangerous to fight, little injuries and little arguments that piled on and on until all of the boys seemed like they’d shatter underneath them. Wild and Twilight walked apart, some spat about dinner the night before driving them away from one another. Legend hung at the back of the group, brooding over something Hyrule had said when they’d been first dropped into this world. Four seemed lost inside his head, so much so that Time had to occasionally prod at his back to keep him from going off of the trail or falling behind. Each time he just mumbled, swiped at his eyes, and corrected his course until he went off it once again. Sky’s near-permanent smile was absent from his face, and his expression was twisted into a tight frown. Even Wind and Warrior were silent, their usual banter absent from the air that seemed to drone and drone in a high-pitched whine. They'd all had a fight earlier that day, one that Time had stepped out just in time to miss, but it left the atmosphere tense and bitter.

As they walked, they were given a reprieve from the sun by dark clouds that rolled in from the south. Some of them seemed relieved; others, Legend particularly, flinched at the first frigid raindrops and the rumble of thunder in the distance. Time noted it.

“We’re close,” Hyrule promised. “Just a few more minutes out, and we can all take it easy for the night.”

“Where are we going, anyways?” Legend snapped from the back of the group. “We’ve been walking forever, and there’s still not a building in sight. Gonna park us under a tree or something? Got nothing better out here?”

“No, no.” Hyrule let out a little strained chuckle, like he was trying to play it off like a joke, but it was clear that the jab had cut him deeply. Time shot a disapproving glare at Legend, but he just rolled his eyes and looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s a cave ahead we can stay in while we wait for the storm to pass.”

“Cave?” some of the travelers sounded dubious.

“Yeah, just a cave, not some dungeon. I’ve stayed there many times—it’s perfectly safe, unless we run into some rogue Keese.”

Even that sounded like too much to deal with. But the rest of the boys’ protests petered off under the strengthening rain, and they trudged in miserable silence, scarves and sailcloths and cloaks held over their heads, until they reached the cave—a dark opening in a cliffside. As predicted, a few keese flew out to confront them, hissing and flapping their wings so loudly there seemed to be millions of them instead of just a few in an enclosed area. The boys dealt with them, then ducked into the dry cavern, complaining of aching joints and wet clothes as they started a fire and set down their equipment.

It was a convenient cave. Almost too convenient.

“When were you here, Hyrule?” Time asked, standing in the mouth of the cave as he did another headcount. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. Good. “You know this place well?”

“Oh, just here and there,” Hyrule answered, looking up from setting out his bedroll. Time couldn’t help but notice that he and Legend had set up on opposite sides of the cave, as had Twilight and Wild, as had Warrior and Wind. Time would have to talk to each pair. But tomorrow. “It’s perfectly safe. There’s even an air draft up that a way, so if something did happen to block the opening, we can all still get out.”

If only that had been true.

That night, they all settled down to sleep, and it was peaceful for the first time in days. Unnaturally so. Time took first watch, and he sat facing the opening of the cave as his boys snored. Some of them, at least. Legend’s eyes shone from the opposite side of the cavern, and he seemed to get smaller with each concurrent flash of lighting, followed by an earth shattering peal of thunder. It was getting rough out there.

With the next rumble of thunder, Time stood and crossed to Legend’s side of the cave. The boy didn’t look up at him, so Time didn’t say anything as he lowered himself down next to him with a groan. Wind or Wild or Hyrule he could’ve broken with a simple “are you all right?” Sky or Warrior or Twilight or Four would’ve cracked under whatever horrible pun he managed to come up with in the moment. But this was Legend, so Time sat, and he waited for him to be the first to speak.

“They’re all just a bunch of kids, you know?” Legend mumbled into his knees at last.

“I know,” Time answered, because there was nothing else to say. They were, to Hylian standards, all still children.

“And I know that, and I still get surprised when they act like it. Wild was picking at Hyrule for not knowing how to read, and Wind joined in, and I just lost it on them. If you want to know what happened earlier,” Legend offered up. “Pissed Twilight off for yelling at his kid, and Warrior scolded the rest, and now everybody is mad at each other, apparently.” He buried his face into his knees, hugging his arms around his shins. “How do you do it? I just seem to treat them like they’re fully functioning human beings when they’re just little shits.”

“It’s an art.” Time said, “Doubt I would have found that balance without Malon. You know you aren’t much older than them yourself, you don’t have to be a leader.”

Legend looked like he was going to scoff and launch into some tirade about responsibility and the number of his quests, but a peal of thunder that seemed to shake the whole world cut him off. Instead he chuckled drily, dragging a hand up through his bangs. “Yeah, I guess… I just... this world and all... I'm supposed to be the hero before Hyrule... but..;”

The thunder was still rumbling, growing louder and louder, shaking the walls and the very air itself. Time and Legend looked at one another with wide eyes, realizing what was happening at the same time—an earthquake.

“Boys, get up!” Time shot to his feet, clapping his hands. Heads raised blearily, some of the travelers reached for their weapons. “We’ve gotta get out of—”

The ceiling exploded. Rocks fell down onto their fire, dust clouded the air, and everything was cast into darkness.

Screams followed Time into the darkness.

When he woke up sometime later, it was quiet, so quiet.

It was dark. For a moment, Time couldn’t tell if he’d opened his eye or not, met with such an inky blackness as he was. He blinked a few times, then, groaning, tried to raise a hand to wipe at his eyes. He couldn’t—it was stuck firmly at his side, weighed down by something pressing against his back.

Time furrowed his brow, closing his eye to think. His thoughts felt sluggish, dragging through molasses to reach him. There had been… a cave in? The boys had been situated towards the center of the cavern, sleeping soundly through even the largest peals of thunder outside. They hadn’t even been able to stand before the ceiling caved in. Legend… Legend had been just to his right, hadn’t he?

Time tried to draw a breath to call out to him, but something in his chest caught painfully, and he choked. He tried to move, but found that he couldn’t—his left side seemed to be pinned down to the floor of the cavern, and he realized then that he could feel nothing, nothing at all, on that side of his body. Not pain, not cold, not even pins and needles. The absence of half of his body unnerved him. He still had feeling in his right arm, though, and he could move it. Gasping shallowly for air, he grasped blindly with it, feeling around his surroundings blindly. Rock below him, rock to his left—had he been hit by a falling boulder? He’d still been wearing his armor, when the cave-in occurred. Had his armor protected him, and he was merely pinned? Or had the weight turned the metal of it into a weapon against him, which was why he couldn’t feel his own body? Finally, his fingers hit the soft texture fabric.

“Legend?” Time managed to draw enough breath to wheeze. There was no response. He gripped onto the fabric and pulled. “Legend!”

A hacking cough—the most blessed sound Time thought he’d ever heard—filled the air, and then that fabric pulled out of his grasp.

“Time?” Legend’s voice asked. “Time, where are you? What happened?”

“Down here.” Time shifted with a breathless groan, testing how trapped he was. Little bits of debris spilled down onto his head, clattering against the stone floor. He stopped moving before he brought whatever was holding up the rest of the cave. “I’m a bit… indisposed, at the moment.”

Legend gave a little inhale. It seemed so loud in the small place they were trapped in. “Is everyone else okay?”

Time… didn’t know. He went back in his mind to where everyone had been positioned, before the ceiling fell. Wild and Wind had been on the far side of the cave, sulking after their respective scoldings, apparently. Hyrule had been curled up near the back of the cave, his back turned to the fire. Twilight and Warrior and Sky each had been around the fire, dealing with their armor and swords. Four… he didn’t remember where Four had been. Why couldn’t he remember where Four had been.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine with himself sitting with Legend on the near side of the cave. Now reduced to two.

“GUYS!” Legend called. The sound reverberated around the tiny space they were in, making Time’s ears ring. “GUYS! Rulie? Warrior! Can anyone hear us? Are you guys okay?”

In the wake of his shout, stifling silence fell. No one called back.

“They… maybe they… got out,” Time managed to gasp out, though he didn’t believe it. It was getting harder to breath, and his side was starting to hurt now, with pins and needles so fierce that they made his teeth chatter. “Do you… do you have… have anything? A light… or… or something.”

“No, no, I don’t.” Legend sounded so small. “It was all on the other side of the cave, with the rest of my stuff. D-do you?”

“Same… same situation here… I’m afraid.” Time swallowed with difficulty. “I think… I think we’re going… going to have to wait for rescue.” The sentence left him completely out of breath, and he struggled to regain it. His own breathing seemed so loud in the small area they were trapped in.

“No, no no no no.” Time heard Legend’s breath speed up as he started to hyperventilate. “We can’t be trapped here, there must be something we can do, we have to make sure that the others are okay, if we just…”

He heard fabric shift as Legend stood, then a curse as he apparently hit the ceiling of their stone prison. Time just focused on nothing other than breathing. He could feel some sort of metallic liquid pooling in the back of his throat, and he determinedly swallowed it back down without giving it another thought.

“What if the others aren’t okay? What if they’re trapped too. What if some of them were killed? Time, we’ve gotta get out of here.” Legend paced and paced around their stone prison, growing more and more frantic. But eventually, he ran out of energy, and he collapsed back down to his starting position by Time’s head. “Are you okay? I-I can't see you.”

“I’m fine, don’t—” a wet cough interrupted him, and his mouth suddenly tasted coppery. He spat out the taste. “Don’t worry about me,” Time finished vaguely. It was a lie, they both knew it. “Just… just pinned.”

“O–okay. Time, I don’t know what to do. There has to be something that we can do, isn’t there?”

Time didn’t answer, and they didn’t speak to one another again. The silence was deafening, the air thin, the darkness all-consuming. Time was suddenly overcome with a feeling of helplessness to help his boys he knew must also be trapped. So he laid his head down, listening for any sign of life, and he prayed they were all right.

#linked universe #lu #linkeduniverse #cheetowrites #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday1 #febuwhump #linked universe fanfiction

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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 3 months

Text

Febuwhump Day 3 -- "Bite Down on This"

tw: description of injury, burns

The battle was over. Four doubled over himself and braced his hands on his knees, panting open-mouthed, as the last of those cursed fire-breathing aeralfos were picked out of the sky by Wild and Twilight. The ambush had come upon them unexpectedly, and they’d been forced into a loose defensive circle as the flying monsters tried to pick them off one by one. Despite their surprise, it seems they’d escaped without any major injuries. Legend was nursing a shallow scratch on his shoulder that he’d earned when one of the flying beasts had tried to fly down and snatch Wind up from the ground, Sky’s hair had been singed at the tips, but other than that, everyone was whole and well besides a few burnt sleeves. Four straightened—his chest was still tight despite the battle being over, how odd—and he withdrew a cloth from his pocket to wipe away the black blood from his beloved Four Sword.

“Four!” someone shouted, their voice high and tight with worry. Four looked up with a start—was he in danger? Were all the monsters not actually gone? But it was only Warrior, who was running towards him, his face twisted into a look of panic. Four sent a glance behind himself—nothing was there.

“Captain,” he returned with a bit of confusion, “what’s the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter,” Warrior said smoothly as he reached Four’s side, breathless from his burst of speed. “Can you sit down for me, Four?”

There was a specific tone to Warrior’s voice—one that he used on the younger heroes to calm them when dealing with injuries or bad nightmares—that put Four’s nerves on edge. “What’s wrong, Captain?” he asked again.

“Nothing, nothing. Just keep breathing, you’re fine.” Warrior took Four’s arms and forcefully pushed him down to sitting. Four was getting a bit irked—he shrugged him off, pulling away. “Legend, call Hyrule and Time, quick! And Sky, we’re going to need some help over here!”

“If nothing’s wrong, what are you doing? Hey!” Four tried to bat him away, but Warrior would not be deterred. Instead, he took Four’s sword out of his hand and placed it to the side, then dragged up the bottom of his shirt. “Hey! I was cleaning that!”

Warrior ducked down to glance under Four’s shirt, then looked into Four's eyes intently. He moved his hand to Four’s stomach as if to press down, but Four felt nothing. “How are you feeling right now? Any pain? Any discomfort or pressure at all?”

“No!” Four batted his hands away again. “What are you doing?”

Warrior sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Oh, that’s not good,” he muttered to himself. “Rulie! Get over here now! Don’t look down, Four, you’re all right.”

So of course, Four looked down. The whole front of his tunic was burnt away, crisped at the edges. The skin underneath Warrior’s hands was molted black and red. Oh. But even at the sight of the burn, he felt no pain. A flood of lightheadedness surged through his head, making him dizzy.

“Hylia, what did I say! I don’t know why I even try,” Warrior bemoaned in a forced joking voice that Four didn’t find funny at all. “Do you think that you can get your tunic off?”

“Oh Hylia,” Time swore underneath his breath as he appeared in Four’s field of view. “Oooooh, sweet Hylia.”

“Uh… probably,” Four managed to mutter, his mind stuttering at the sight of his own blackened flesh and Time’s reaction. Why… Why couldn’t he feel it? It was his own skin, wasn’t it?

Somehow, Four ended up on his back. Sky and Hyrule were both looming over him now, their faces pinched tight in panic. His tunic had gone… somewhere. Hyrule’s hands were on his stomach, glowing with pink magic. His whole body was hypersensitive—the grass tickled his bare skin, a little rock dug into his shoulder, the breeze tugged at his hair where he lay—and he still couldn’t feel Hyrule’s touch.

“I… I can’t heal this,” Hyrule murmured faintly. Beads of sweat shone on his forehead. “There’s… there’s just too much dead skin. We’re going to have to clear it all out first.”

“I feared that was what you’d say,” Warrior said. “Alright, Time, Twilight, get over here! We’re going to need you as well. Wild, do you have any medical training for dealing with burns?” A response rang in Four’s ears. “Good, then you get over here too then. Bring some sterile washcloths, if we’ve got any.”

“Tell us what to do, Warrior,” Sky said. Twilight was there too, hovering over his shoulder. His face was white.

“Hold him down,” Warrior answered, his expression grim. “We’re going to have to excise the wound before we can treat it, and he’s gonna fight once the pain starts to hit. I should know. But we can…”

“...have anything for pain management?” Time’s voice asked.

“...ot for this, it won’t touch it. Wouldn’t kick in in time any… have to be fast or he’ll…”

Four tipped his head back and stared up at the sky, feeling disconnected from his own body. He was starting to feel… bad. His side still didn't hurt, but something was wrong. “Warrior…” he managed to croak out. “What’s…?”

Warrior was at his head in an instant. He brushed Four’s sweaty bangs out of his eyes—where had his headband gone?—and smiled down at him thinly. “Hey, Smithy. Hanging in there?”

Four licked his lips. They were dry and numb. “What’re you…?”

“You’ve been burned, and we’ve got to deal with it, now,” Warrior answered, yanking his scarf from his neck. “I’m not going to lie, it’s going to hurt, but you’ll be okay. Can you bite down on this for me?”

Four’s eyes slowly focused in on the object held up before his face. It was Warrior’s blue scarf, folded and balled up into a makeshift gag. Somehow, he dredged up enough energy to nod, and the fabric was shoved between his teeth without further ceremony. The floral smell of it burned his nose and made his head swim.

“Everyone ready?” Warrior asked, looking up at the heads surrounding him. There were nods all around. Four’s eyes fluttered shut, overcome by a sudden tiredness. “Alright, hold him down. Let’s get this done as quickly as possible. Hyrule, stand by.”

Four found his head in Sky’s lap, his arms trapped. At his feet, Time and Twilight each straddled a leg, pinning him to the forest floor. He groaned, laying his head back into Sky’s lap. Someone—was that Legend?—held one of his hands in between his own, rubbing his thumb over the back of his knuckles.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Legend said, squeezing his hand. His eyes were wet. “Just hang on, you’re gonna be okay. Hyrule, have you got enough magic for this?”

"Y...yes, I think so."

Oh, Four finally realized somewhere in the back of his mind. This is going to suck.

Warrior looked away. “Wild, let’s start. Wind, get a potion ready.”

Their hands moved to his stomach. For a moment, he felt nothing. Then pins and needles, accompanied by a sort of bone-deep cold, dove deep into his skin. That cold warmed into a sort of tingly heat, which then turned into hot, all-consuming pain.

Four screamed. He bucked against the grip holding him down, his back arching and his feet kicked uselessly against the forest floor as he tried to crawl away from the fire in his stomach. He begged them to let him go, just stop, just let him die, please. Eventually, just as Hyrule stepped in, his hands shining pink, darkness rose to save him from the pain, and he didn’t fight it.

#four linked universe #four lu #linked universe #lu #linkeduniverse #cheetowrites #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday3 #linked universe fanfic #linked universe fanfiction #warrior linked universe #lu warrior #warrior lu #those are the main boys #so I guess that's all I'll tag #even though everyone is here

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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 1 month

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Blood Drops on Roses: Settling in (19/80)

Wild, Twilight, and the travelers settle into camp for the night. Wild is uncomfortable. Tw: none (threat of stabbing?)

“Woah!”

Suddenly, Wild felt a pressure against his back. Arms encircled his shoulders and went around his neck. His throat tightened, his breath caught, and his fingers clenched around the handle of his paring knife.

But he recognized the voice: the young sailor, Wind. It would not be acceptable to stab one of the travelers—especially their youngest—directly in front of them.

Wind set his chin on Wild’s shoulder. “Are you cooking? You can cook?” he exclaimed right in his ear.

Read the rest of this chapter here! Blood Drops on Roses

Or read the rest of the series here! BDOR Series (Prologues)

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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 2 months

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The Yiga -- Febuwhump Day 19 : "Please Don't"

Tw: aftermath of torture, child abuse, description of injury.

Useless.

The word echoed like a war drum through Legend’s head with every appearance and return of their captors. Useless to fight them, useless to stop his brothers from being taken, and useless to help them heal once they were returned. He himself was left unharmed, and somehow, that made it all the more painful. His shin was broken from their initial capture—had been for days, his foot angled awkwardly beneath him on the cobbled floor—but beyond that, their captors didn’t touch him other than to give him an occasional, corrective strike if he held on to his brothers too tightly when they came to take one away.

Useless to keep his brothers, useless to protect them, useless to heal them. While he himself sat untouched, holding them as tightly as he could, providing whatever comfort and warmth he could, before they were again ripped away from him over and over and over again. None of his tools, none of his strength, and none of his quick wit could help here. Useless, useless, useless.

At the front of the cell, the metal door creaked open with a grating shriek. One of their masked captors walked in, a scythe held loosely in their hands. Legend had learned to fear the blunt handle of that scythe just as much as the blade itself, given how many times he’d been slammed in the head for trying to prevent them from taking one of the others. He’d had some resistance, some hope, some something besides despair left in him, then. Now, he didn’t even dare to look up when the assassin’s tall boots clicked closer on the hard stone floor, cowering where he sat on the cold floor.

“Please,” Legend pleaded as he had tens of times before, squeezing his eyes shut, “don’t.”

Wind whimpered, clinging to Legend’s side and hiding his face in his dirty tunic at the sight of one of their captors. They’d taken him a few times, and each time he was returned he grew more and more pale, a growing number of little slices cutting into his palms and up his arms. Wild, their favored victim, was still unconscious from their last session, had been for hours now, his head lolled uselessly to the side. His hair spread out across Legend’s lap in stringy strands, damp with both water and blood.

The Yiga said nothing, and they never did. They strolled forwards, then stopped, a hand at the bottom of their mask in a pantomime of stroking their chin as they looked over the three heroes. They hummed an awful, childish little tone beneath their breath as they chose who would be next.

“Please, don’t take them. Take me instead,” Legend said to the empty, uncaring and un-listening air. He hugged his charges closer—tucking Wind underneath his arm, clutching around Wild’s middle and pulling him more securely into his own lap—despite how it jostled their injuries and made the boy’s face twist in his sleep. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, do whatever you ask, just please—” A sob escaped him. “—please stop hurting them. They’re just—just kids.”

It was, of course, useless. Having made their decision, the Yiga reached down and snagged Wild’s tied wrists, pulling him up and away from Legend’s grasp. Before, in the initial days of their capture, Legend had fought—he’d screamed and cursed and clawed until they subdued him, he’d made them pry him away from the boys even if it meant breaking his fingers or knocking him unconscious. Now, he clung on for only a moment, reaching out to stroke his knuckles across Wild’s cheek in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, before letting him go. Any longer, and the Yiga would grow angry with him and knock him abound the head with their horrible blunt-handled scythe again. Legend hugged Wind with both arms now, hushing him, as the Yiga dragged an unconscious Wild out of the cell by a grip underneath one of his elbows.

Well, not entirely unconscious. Wild’s long blond hair, his hair tie lost days ago, hung loose around his face, and his bare feet trailed behind him as he was dragged across the stone floor, but he raised his head slightly. A confused sound left him, mumbled and slurred. He kicked a little, struggling to right himself, but his captor paid him no heed.

Legend turned away from the sight, bowing his head over a shivering Wind. “It’ll be okay, it’ll be okay,” he whispered into his curly hair, “the others will find us, they will. They’ll get us out of here, it will be okay.”

Until then, this torturous cycle would continue. They’d return Wild in an even worse state, then come for Wind, next. And there was nothing Legend could do to stop them.

Useless.

The door slammed shut, leaving he and Wind to wait in the dark.

#linked universe #lu #linkeduniverse #cheetowrites #febuwhump #febuwhump day 19 #febuwhump2024 #linked universe fanfiction #legend linked universe #wild linked universe #wind linked universe #whump

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