Is he wrong though?
Is he wrong though?
epona (hyrule warriors)
Cia: Wizzro, I trusted you!
*doesn’t post for a week* *comes back with a ghirazant WIP* *does not elaborate*
Don’t mind the onion.
i just want anbu kakashi to have a lil softness in his life :') he deserves it :'))) // insp from a hella cute grimmichi comic
All that remains...is some scattered memories.
For @transzeldas my beloved bestie
Zelinkle content in 2021 anyone?
I never played Hyrule Warrios Age of Calamity, is Link from the botw timeline a bonus final boss? He should come in wearing the Tunic of the Wild and wreck your shit
Click, snap! Look over here! Come and get it! ⸜(*ˊᗜˋ*)⸝
BRAINROT make pretty aRT GO BRrrRRrRrRRrRRarrrrrrrr
I really liked Impa in Age of Calamity!!!
Hi hello working on requests now but here’s this warmup that went too far
I’ll call it decent, not good.
I drew Cia without a reference lmao
Linktober day 17! Knight main character
It is fact that if you draw the hero of warriors, you have to give him whore lashes.
His head is spinning very, very... Very, verrry fast.
His footing is unstable and the way he keeps adjusting his body to keep himself from falling makes him feel seasick.
His vision dizzies and wanes and swims back and forth between a blinding white, a grimy black, and an array of melting washed-out watercolors without clear shapes.
His arms move as heavily as if he was stuck in ancient molasses, his legs are impossible to manouver in an easy or even just coherent way. His body feels liquid in the worst way possible, it refuses his commands or acts on them too late for his liking.
His head spins so.
He opens his eyes: the light hurts horribly; he closes them quickly, with a hiss.
A hand goes to his forehead.
"Captain!" it's the cook's voice.
His back is against something solid but not smooth - the ground, maybe... How did he get there? He was standing until a moment ago. He doesn't remember laying down.
"The traveler is coming," the cook's voice comes to him once again. It sounds as if it were underwater, soft, a little garbled. "Don't worry, we'll take care of you."
He's fine, he wants to say: just down with a little dizziness. They need him, they are in danger - he will get up and meet him halfway, he needs to get up, even if a pang of blinding pain bursts out of him.
Something shaped weirdly, like some kind of badly drawn five-pointed stars, presses lightly on his chest and keeps him in place. They cannot be that heavy: they are relatively small, and on his clothes they are soft and barely percievable. But his body reacts to their weight as if a mountain had been unceremoniously hurled on top of it, knocking the breath out of his lungs.
"He's coming, he's coming," the cook's voice reassures him, "Don't strain yourself, he'll be here sooner than you know."
He does strain - his ears specifically. He can't trust them right now, with all the watery echoes in them, but still he needs to force himself to hear what is happening around him, how the others are doing.
He picks up nothing of concern.
How? They were fighting fiercely just now. What happened? He opens his mouth to call out and ask them how they are, but his throat is too dry to let words pass; the air seems to slip knives into his palate as he inhales, and his tongue feels covered in fur and sand and something foul. One of the strange stars lays him down again as the other goes to sustain the back of his head (that he is grateful for, because it feels like a large gelatinous nothing and the feeling of being touched manages to solidify it somewhat), one of its angles brushing gently at his hair.
Soon he recognizes two more stars weighing softly on his body: "I'm here, Captain, I'm right here," the traveler's voice soothes him through the cotton fog that drowns him, and it sounds beautiful for some reason. "How are you feeling?"
His mouth is stuck completely. It feels all the more disgusting if he tries to move anything within it. All he can do is give a strangled groan from the depths of his throat.
"You'll be alright. We've got you," the traveler's voice promises gently. Something smooth is pressed to what he imagines to be his mouth: "Open up, please..."
His lips stick to each other as if sewn together, but finally he manages it.
The potion washes his mouth clean of whatever horrid thing was coating it and he swallows it with a grimace.
"Bitter?" he hears the cook's voice ask.
He shakes his head: "Tastes fine," he manages to slur out.
"He asked if you're doing 'better'," the traveler's voice informs him helpfully.
His eyelids rise, if only slightly. Two known faces look down on him, a blurry veil covering their features; he blinks twice, squeezes his eyes shut, opens them again to a finally clear vision.
"Definitely," he groans - he means it. His head isn't spinning wildly anymore, his limbs feel like flesh and bone instead of dense sap. Movement still feels heavy, though, and raising his head causes a cacophony of pain.
The cook gently presses him down: "Don't strain yourself," he insists, "You lost a lot of blood back there."
Ah... That explains the dizzy spell.
But, back where? And where are the others, and the monsters? If these two dared leaving the other six alone to fend for themselves in the heat of battle just so that they could tend to him he's going to chew their ears until their consistency becomes that of stale beef jerky.
His mouth moves on its own: "And the rest... They're...? The ambush..."
"We took care of that while you were out," the traveler assures him as he lightly squeezes his shoulder. "We're all fine."
He doesn't remember fainting nor falling to the ground, but if he really did lose enough blood to horrendously mess with his sense of balance and make him black out like that, then he has little to no trouble believing he was unconcious for that long.
The traveler tries to press the potion back to his lips again, but he refuses with a shake of the head - it makes him shut his eyes once more as the world sways too much.
"Captain, please," the brunette murmurs while trying to coax him into taking a sip. "The sooner you recover, the better it is. We were all so worried for you..."
A thought makes him snort: "Even th' vet?" he chuckles.
A pause, a beat of silence, and then -
"He signed 'fuck you'," the cook informs him, and the laugh he couldn't contain quakes against his ribs, painful stars appearing on the black of his eyelids as he groans.
The traveler takes this opportunity to try and make him take another gulp of medicine, but he catches himself just in time to turn his face away from the bottle again, the spitting image of a stubborn child whose remedy is too sour for him. From not too far away arrives something akin to a shout of 'just drink the damn thing' in a voice much like that of the veteran.
"Don't waste that..." he mumbles in response. Raising his hand before he can hear any complaints he reaches blindly into his satchel, hissing at the sharp pain that hits him with the motion.
A hand (rough and bruised and calloused; he could probably tell the others apart from their palms alone, but the champion and the healer handle things in ways so similar that they’re almost identical) pulls him back out from his wrist and attempts to pin him down with barely contained annoyance.
The message ‘for the love of Nayru will you please stop moving before you crack yourself open’ is recieved loud and clear.
While stubbornly dodging the third offering of potion, he points towards where he thinks the bag is: “There’s a jar in there,” he instructs, “Yellow and white, should be somewhat glowy...”
He hears some kind of inquisitive shuffling next to himself, then the opening of something; a warm glimmer whistles immediately as it flies to his side, its light becoming brighter and brighter and warmer and warmer against his skin in a matter of second. He lets the benign power seep into him: when the heat begins decreasing he holds out a hand and opens his eyes just in time to recognize the little silhouette that falls tired on his palm.
“My savior,” he croaks with a smile.
The tiniest voice squeaks something at him. He nods: “I should have gotten you out sooner,” he agrees softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “I forgot. I’m sorry. No, I won’t forget next time. Do I have to promise? You know I will. Yes, I didn’t this time, but it’s just the exception to the-- Alright, alright, I get it, you win - I promise. Happy now?”
“I thought...” the cook interrupts the hushed conversation, eyes wide with bewilderment: “I thought fairies disappeared after healing someone.”
The captain pulls himself up from the ground with no aches or pains: “Those fairies can bring back the dead,” he replies, “Luce’s Grand Recovery is just a little less powerful than that, so she’s safe.”
“I thought-” the traveler intervenes “-That the old man said only children of the Great Deku Tree have a fairy to accompany them.”
The fatigued sprite answers something very softly, almost bashful.
The newly healed captain laughs gently at her embarassment: “No need to be shy! It’s nothing immodest to accept an offering of shelter after almost getting squashed a dozen times on a battlefield!”
He guides her back into her jar, covered in pieces of fabric to keep her comfortable and a Deku nut to serve as a snack, so that she may rest up in the quiet darkness inside his bag. Accepting the long haired hero’s helping hand he pulls himself up quickly - and for a moment he nearly falls back on his bottom as his sight blacks out and zaps with small white signs, remaining upright only thanks to the other two Links’ combined efforts.
“Are you sure you’re fine?” the healer asks apprehensively.
“Positive,” he replies as he steadies himself. “Just... A little bit dizzy.”
“Might be all the blood you don’t have anymore,” the champion guesses.
“Which is why you should have taken the potion the three times I asked you to,” the traveler takes the chance to insists.
The captain waves dismissively: “There’s no need to waste it like that, I told you! Luce fixed me up perfectly fine,” he replies. “Give me half a day and I’ll be good as new.”
The brunette huffs. The scarred blond instead doesn’t comment, something clicking in his brain.
“Wasn’t ‘Luce’ one of the seven women you said you were head over heels for?”
A moment of silence preceedes a playful smirk and a tinge of flush on cheeks paler than they usually are.
“How about we keep that a secret,” the captain half-whispers all conspiratorial and amused, pulling the other two’s heads a little closer to his own as if this truly was to be a secret, and the other heroes snort and do not promise anything while they help him go relieve the worry of six more heroes who anxiously awaited his safe return.
Finally, i finished my first comic! based off of this:
Reblogs are super appreciated!!
i think it’s funny that all the characters in hyrule warriors technically go to the same bazaar for upgrades and stuff