The sickening crunch of metal on skull that follows echoes over even the sounds of battle. The tiny, punched out gasp that slips from Vio’s shocked, slack lips is somehow even louder. The crackle of displaced grit and rock as he collapses to the ground is loudest of all.

Or maybe it just seems that way to Red.

Red can’t seem to hear anything else; not the hiss of success the monster spits out, not the concerned shout that pushes its way out of his own throat. Even the pounding of his heart in his ears has gone horribly silent.

Red can’t seem to see anything else either. Can't look away from the sight in front of him. It’s like the world has narrowed down to Vio, the pool of red sprouting from his head like a halo, and the monstrous lizard that stands over him, rearing back, ready to throw another punch now that it’s target can’t get away.

Red doesn't even register himself moving forward. Doesn't even think about it, really.  It’s instinct, a burning tangle of fear and anger in his stomach, in his veins, that sends him diving forward, shield outstretched to deflect the blow.

The beast, not expecting to be denied one again, is thrown off balance with a confused hiss, which Red cuts off with an angry shout and a slash to the things belly.

He turns, sword held at the ready to take on the one that had landed the hit in the first place but Blue is already there, a snarling, unrelenting tide of sword and hammer, protecting Vio’s other side. A decisive mallet swing to the lizalfos' head sends it flying with a crack and a tiny whimper of pain.

They lock eyes for a moment, tsunami meeting lava, and with a quick nod, they take up position on either side of Vio, twin swords a blur.

On Blue’s far side, Red catches a glimpse of Green shoving his own lizalfos away with his shield before turning tail, ducking seamlessly under Blue’s latest swing and skidding to a stop at Vio's side.

Something like warm relief begins to flicker in Red’s chest as Green tosses Vio’s arm over his shoulder and begins to drag the other away.

A flickering relief that is smothered out in the blink of an eye.

Or, rather, in the flash of an arrow.

Between the glint of his own blade and the flurry of punches and tail swipes sent his way by the group of lizalfos in front of him, Red catches sight of one of Wild’s lizalfos lining up a shot too late. He barely has time to register the familiar greenish-yellow energy Red remembers surrounding Wild’s shock arrows before the thing is loosed.

The arrow sings through the air, an arc of crackling ozone that flies across the battlefield, through the swarm of lizalfos bearing down on them before finally diving directly between Red and Blue’s shoulders.

Red doesn't have to look back to know its found its target.

The distorted, jittering scream and acrid smell of singed hair and flesh speaks for itself. As does the thump of two bodies crumpling back into the dirt.

Red feels something inside him crackle at the sound. Feels the moment that the fear and anger twine together in his stomach, twin blazes eating up all the air inside him until he feels breathless with them.

Red also sees the moment that the sound registers to Blue.

And sees the second the dam breaks, releasing the flood.

“Blue, no!”

The warning comes too little, too late. The words are hardly out of Red’s mouth before Blue dives forward with a guttural yell, straight into the swarm of lizalfos, leaving Red to take up position in front of their fallen counterparts, feeling less air in his body by the second.

From there Red only catches glimpses of Blue cutting his way through the hoard. Sees a familiar blade coated in blood, the too fast swing of a mallet as it connects with a head, a flash of dirtied blonde hair. And he sees injuries appear on enemies.  A slashed open throat here, a collapsed skull there. Crushed ribs, ripped bellies, torn tails, gauntlets so dented that blood leaks onto metal.

Any that are injured and foolish enough to stumble Red’s way are taken down without hesitation. Red can’t afford to waste his time with them. He’s too busy glancing back at Green and Vio to make sure they’re still okay, still breathing, too busy craning his neck to try and keep track of Blue.

There is a break in the swarm and Blue crashes into the middle of it, looking bruised and battered but standing. Still standing and snarling and swinging at anything that comes within reach. He’s a tornado of strength and momentum and blade and hammer but he's moving too fast, too wildly. Red can see how each swing pulls him that much more off balance, how every frantic turn tangles his legs further and- and–!

Blue swings his hammer into the chest of one lizalfos, pivots to slash at another creeping towards his back and the momentum of both is just too much for him to handle. His front leg slips in the dirt and Blue goes down hard with a growl, his shoulder and face taking the brunt of his weight.

He’s barely hit the dirt before the lizalfos descend on like vultures, gauntlets and mace-tails raised to strike, completely hiding him behind a horde of green scales and unforgiving steel.

The sound of blunt metal connecting with skin and an infuriated but pained shout is the flint.

Or maybe the spark came earlier, from the electric arrow, the jolted scream.

Or maybe it was there from the beginning of this mess, the kindling a crunch and a gasp and a thump.

Or maybe Red was always on fire.

That's what it feels like at least. It feels like he's on fire. It feels like the burning fear and anxiety and anger have left the confines of his stomach, have coalesced, sparked up his veins, charred his lungs and burned up his throat and he’s screaming.

In an instant, his shield has left his right hand, replaced by the searing grip of the Fire Rod.

And now the fire has reached his skin and it feels like he's caught alight. No longer is fear distinguishable from anger, from rage, all that matters is the heat, the power, and the pain. The heat beginning to gather at the end of the Fire Rod. The pain of blisters bubbling on his hands as the temperature swells higher. The power just waiting to burst forth.

Red screams and screams and screams, a mixture of agony and anger and more, bears his teeth for the lizalfos to see despite the tears boiling down his face, raises the Fire Rod, and lets the world explode.

Everything is a blur of crimson after that. Flames lick at the ground and pull themselves swirling through the air, clawing at anything and everything that stands between Red and Blue.

There might be brief moments of green scales and glinting metal in his vision, seconds when claws and tails and gauntlets score him, bruise him, slice him open, but all it does is add more crimson. More places for flames to escape his body, making it that much easier for Red to cut them down and set them ablaze, filling his sight with scarlet once more.

At once, Red can both feel the heat and feel nothing. Pain and power. Each breath in is agony, filling his lungs with sparks and smoke, and each exhale is ripped from him in a scream, burning so hot that it feels like he might actually be breathing fire.

A roar fills his ears, but Red can’t tell if it's his heart or the sound of the flames or the screams of lizalfos as they fall.

He doesn't care what it is either.

Not with the fire around him. In him. Fueling and fueled by him. Breathing his air and stealing it.

All that matters is watching everything turn to ash and–!

A hand, warm but no scalding, catches his wrist.

Red whirls around, intent on wrenching his arm away, in letting the fire burn and burn and burn until it can burn nothing else.

And then he looks down and sees Blue.

Blue who is looking up at him from behind purpled, swollen eyelids. Blue, with blood dripping from his scalp and nose and a cut open cheekbone. Blue, whose left arm looks to be broken even as he holds Red’s wrist tightly with the other.

“It’s okay, Red,” he says, voice hoarse and lips bleeding. “You got them.”

The words enter Red’s ears, but he doesn't quite understand them. The hand that Blue had caught flexes slightly in its hold and the Fire Rod responds to the call of his magic, sparks beginning to sprout of the red gem once again.

“I-” Red coughs, swallows, tries again. “I got them?”

Blue gives him a nod and a weary, bleeding smile.

“You got them,” he confirms in a voice softer than Red thinks he’s heard in a long time. “We’re gonna be okay.”

“We’re…?”

Reality, their situation, it all slams into Red and he whips around, looking back. Behind him is a path of carnage, a path of blacked, scorched dirt, torn and burning scaled bodies, metal gauntlets and tails reduced to misshapen, half melted hunks of steel.

But there, behind the burned dirt and cloud of smoke, beyond any danger, is Green and Vio, the former awake if shaky, still holding on to their unconscious counterpart.

“We’re okay,” Red repeats slowly, numbly, turning back to look at Blue. “We’re safe.”

His body must register the words before his brain does because suddenly his knees are hitting the dirt, bringing Red to sit next to Blue, who wraps his good arm around Red’s shoulder and pulls him gently into his side.

The pain in his lungs and the skin of his hands and any other parts of his body that had been licked by flames, unfortunately, flares to life then, overpowered only by the bone deep exhaustion that comes with using the amount of magic he did.

“We’re safe, we’re okay, we’re safe, we’re okay,” the words keep spilling from Red’s lips in hoarse whispers, even as his throat fails him, and his vision begins to blur.

In the distance, Red thinks he sees eight shapes breaking into a sprint to get to them.

“We’re safe,” Blue agrees, his voice barely making it through the cotton that has stuffed itself into Red’s ears. “You made sure of that.”

Red just hums and nods, letting everything go lax.

They’re safe.

They’re okay.

“Dream Walker” (2.5k Complete, Teen, Legend Centric)  https://archiveofourown.org/works/26660296

Legend has an... illuminating night on watch. 

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“Equivalent Exchange” (3.5k Complete, Teen, Shadow Centric)  https://archiveofourown.org/works/27005356 

 A wish is granted. For better or worse.

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“Flip List” (1k Complete, Gen, Warriors Centric)  https://archiveofourown.org/works/27271261 

Crack fic based on some amazing art by @/mmmwaffles

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“His Predecessor” (2k Complete, Gen, Time Centric)  https://archiveofourown.org/works/23391448

Time has heard about the Hero of the Minish since he was little. 

He’s not impressed. 

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“It May Try to Change You” (3.5k WIP, Mature, Four Centric)  https://archiveofourown.org/works/23890756/chapters/57434860 

Sky tries to help Four.

It backfires.  

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“Just a Little Joke” (2k Complete, Gen, Four Centric)  https://archiveofourown.org/works/28166922

It starts, as most things tend to with them, as a joke.

A really horrible little joke.

Emphasis on little.

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“Like Rock, Paper, Scissors but Not Really” (3.5k WIP, Gen, Colors Centric)  https://archiveofourown.org/works/25599367/chapters/62131759

 The Colors support each other!!!!

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 “Pink and Gold” (>1k Complete, Gen, Legend Centric)  https://archiveofourown.org/works/27200449 

Just some soft Downfall Boys!

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“Please Keep the Cat in the Bag” (3.5k, Gen, Four Centric)  https://archiveofourown.org/works/23217166

Twilight introduces everyone to the colony of cats living in the Hidden Village. Not everyone is a fan. 

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“Sit by the fire until...” (5.5k WIP, Gen, Full Chain)  https://archiveofourown.org/works/25870150/chapters/62859553

8 times a hero fell asleep somewhere weird +1 time a hero fell asleep exactly where he was supposed to

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“The End Meets the Beginning” (8.5k Complete, Gen, Wild Centric) ((First of a WIP Series))  https://archiveofourown.org/works/24281029/chapters/58524121

The first fic in an au I like to call “wild is a Disney princess but not really au” 

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“The Sound of the Sea” (3.5k Complete, Gen, Legend Centric)  https://archiveofourown.org/works/27668051

 Legend can’t sleep and is an asshole about it. 

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“Train Hopping” (4.5k WIP, Teen, Full Chain)  https://archiveofourown.org/works/32860279/chapters/81544183

Inside, it’s dark. 

Inside, it's cold. 

Two things that Shadow had never associated with Link’s home. Even when he was a simple silhouette, only catching ribbons of the light world, he associated the place with movement. With warmth. The ever present fire in the forge and the rhythm of hammer on metal and the bustle of bodies and arguments and roughhousing. 

Now, as he stands in the doorway it just looks… empty. 

Lifeless. 

In front of him, with the light of the dying day at his back, his silhouette blossoms from his feet, standing as motionless as he does, framed on the floor by the small box of gray light that filters in past the door frame. 

Shadow stares at it. 

At him. 

Watches as the shade mirrors him when he presses his hands to either side of the door frame. How his action makes it look like the shade is trying to push past the confines it finds itself in. 

The confines he finds himself in. 

Something in Shadow’s stomach twists.

Without even thinking about it, Shadow turns so the profile of his face is cast on the floor, the ridge of a brow, gentle swoop of a nose, and slight bow of lips now cutting through the light. 

“We’re home,” Shadow says quietly to the silhouette, making sure to exaggerate every move of his mouth. 

Because it was not often that sound made it to the Realm of Darkness. But a movement of chin and lip and tongue, once cast in light, must be reenacted by the dark. 

The Other moves and The Shade copies, afterall.  

“I brought you home,” Shadow whispers next.