#JUST A TOTAL CARRY

[eluminium]

hey guys. hey guys. look at this clip of impulse losing it during the GIGS stream. look at it. oh my god. that cackle was so. he's so endearing. its not- it's NOT-RAHWIUHAOFJKOGRSIOESFGIOHESGHUWHFWAHWHRGEUSWEE WOO WEE WOO WEE WOO [CARS CRASH] [BABIES SCREAMING] [EXPLOSION] OH GAWD MY LEG!!!!!

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU: Tim as a child was never given a lot of information regarding the scribbling messy handwriting that appeared over night all over his arms- naturally he came to his own conclusions.

Tim Drake was home entirely alone at 9 years old and was about to go out for the night to test his brand new long exposure camera lens when he sees the writing on his arm. It’s not English, like he assumed it was at first, but it was using the alphabet to represent… Tim isn’t bad at math but this formula is complex for his little genius brain.

Looking at his camera, he decides he can spare a moment to look it up, solve it, and get back out into old town Gotham in time for Batman and Robin’s final patrol lap. He does just that, finding the problem to relate to some aerospace engineering and then quickly deduces what laws and theorems need to be applied. He finds a pen, writes down his findings in much neater handwriting onto his arm, and goes out. It’s barely a remarkable night at all. He gets a much more memorable photo of Robin roundhouse kicking a hench person.

Things just continued on that way. Tim would find some complex math, physics or chemistry prompt on his arm (surrounded by various question marks or notes or sad faces)- he’d answer it as best he could and move on with his life. Perhaps his parents were manifesting these pop quizzes? Perhaps his subconscious felt guilty about abandoning his studies for more Bat related pursuits? Tim really didn’t care to think much about it once he became Robin- there was too much on his plate and too many peoples problems for him to fix.

Notably, however, after the attack at the Tower, the pop quiz appeared and Tim wrote back that he wouldn’t be able to find an answer to this one. It was the only time Tim questioned the markings appearance and it was because the next thing that appeared was “Hope you feel better soon.”

… his parents wouldn’t include that on a pop quiz. Cursed then. Tim decided it must be a curse, whatever, he’d deal with the implications later in life.

Tim then has the worst year of his life, hes 15, no longer Robin and the questions from his curse are getting less math oriented and more… philosophical. A lot of mentions of death that, in hindsight helped him actually grieve, and a lot of theories about dark matter and souls. Tim answers back as best he can but he’s drained and his answers aren’t very good in his opinion. He gets minimal feedback.

It all comes to a point that he’s at a family dinner, Bruce is at the head of the table, Jason has promised just to stay for dessert, Damian hasn’t thrown a single insult his way and Steph was laughing at him- when a new theoretical model appears on his arm.

“You’re just as bad as Bruce, Timberly. Hiding a soulmate from all of us, how fucking typical.” Jason points out, while watching Tim scribble back some math with a question mark onto his arm.

“A what? No, this is just a curse. I get pop quizzes every now and then.” Tim bats away Steph who rapidly approaches and began to analyze his arm (the rest of the family isn’t far behind).

“Drake. Explain how you came to this conclusion.” Damian seems more curious than anything, if his lack of insults was anything to go off of.

“Since I was young I’ve had at least weekly math check ins, I never had a parent or anyone else around so I assumed my parents had me cursed to ensure I stayed on top of my studies. Sometimes it’s physics or chemistry, for a while there it was a ton of philosophy and behavioral psychology.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Master Tim, I believe the lack of adults in your life has led you towards a false conclusion. That is most certainly a soulmate mark. The individual to whom you are responding is undoubtedly your other half.” Alfred attempts to calm the room before explaining to Tim. Tim isnt sure if he believes the butler, though Alfred only very rarely lied, so he grabs the pen once more. He writes his first question back: “Who am I to you?”

The room waits in anticipation and within moments a brand new line appears on Tim’s arm and he is vindicated: “We do math together???”

——

The reason Danny is failing English is because his built in homework helper sucks ass at metaphors and has apparently never read any classic literature. The tutor on his arm is great at puzzles and math tho.

Danny gets a reply back one night that he wasn’t expecting (Who am I to you?) and he mentions it to Jazz. Who goes insane that Danny didn’t even question it and just went with “meh, probably haunted” as his explanation for the phenomenon for all these years.

Apparently, if Jazz was right, he had a soulmate who was uh, super fucking smart. That was an overwhelming thought.

The next day Danny is in crisis mode and writes back “Wait, WHAT AM I TO YOU??? Can I help on your homework??”

Danny gets vindicated when the writing on his arm presents a shit ton of dates and information for an unsolved Gotham cold case. See, Haunted.

———

Eventually between Danny becoming the top candidate for astrophysics at Wayne Enterprises and Tim Drake being outed as having contributed tips to the GCPD that solved cold cases- they meet and realize just how dumb they’ve been.

[madeofjules]

I'll never agree with the short Peeta/tall Katniss takes because their canonical sizes are both narratively and thematically relevant.

Peeta's medium height and stocky build give him the size and strength to overpower most of his competitors in the arena, yet he rarely uses those traits to hurt people despite being in circumstances that encourage violence. Having the power and motive to be deadly and choosing to be kind instead is what defines Peeta's character.

Katniss's small size generally puts her at a disadvantage in the Games but she's still very deadly. I like that she's earned the skills (bow and arrow, hunting) and survivor mentality that make her a formidable tribute because she's not supposed to be this naturally gifted "chosen one" type figure. She's a regular teenage girl who has some special qualities but still needs a lot of help to win the Games.

Their size difference is also relevant in their relationship. Katniss has had to take care of herself since she was a young girl because of her mother's neglect, and as a result she doesn't trust other people to protect her. She's understandably mistrustful of Peeta's kindness when they become tributes, as one of them has to die for the other to live and he has the ability to kill her with his bare hands if he wants to (which we see later on when he's hijacked). Yet once they become allies, his larger size is no longer a potential threat but a source of comfort and protection; being held by him is the safest Katniss has felt with anyone since her parents held her as a little kid. And after they leave the arena, his strong arms are the only ones she trusts to guard her from her nightmares.

So even though I do think short guy-tall girl couples deserve more rep, it doesn't really make sense for Peeta and Katniss. And tbh viewing the gentle and compassionate boy as short and the tough hunter girl as tall is a little stereotypical lol.

[vepppy]

guiding key ✨

[nyaawn]

Cait Sith Carried like a Cat.

[sonadowkismesis]

sorry, no art this week. just edits of fem!ford of varying quality. her name's andromeda. grauntie andy. and i love her

[unfinishedslurs]

The boy stops in his tracks. “I know you,” he says, tilting his head curiously. He’s not tall, but he’s regal nonetheless, dressed all in white. Something about him makes Leia’s hair stand on end, and although she hides it she feels a stirring in her own chest. I know you like I know my own soul, she thinks wildly, and wonders where it came from. Has she gone insane?

“That’s nice,” she says, and shoots him anyway.

He deflects it in a flash of light, a glowing blue laser sword appearing in his hand like magic. She’s only seen one of those before, and it’s Vader’s. If this boy is anything like Vader, she realizes, she’s in deep shit.

She’s smart enough to know when she’s outmatched. Leia makes the tactical decision to run for her life.

Later, as she’s getting the hell out of there, she wonders why he didn’t try to stop her.

She remembers being young and tugging on her mothers skirts, demanding to know why their guest was so sad. “Does he not like it here?” She’d asked, and then, trembling, because Kenobi always seemed saddest around her. “Is it…because of me?”

“Oh, Leia,” her mother sighed, lifting her into her arms. “It’s not that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, years ago.” Breha’s eyes grew deeper, darker. “It was not his fault, but he blames himself. You remind him of that child, that’s all.”

Leia had quieted at that, contemplative.

The next time she’d seen Master Kenobi, she had given him a hug. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that, so she resolved to give him more of them. “He’s lonely,” she’d told her mother. “No one should be lonely.”

Looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi now, the memory seemed so far away. He’d aged thirty years in the ten it had been.

He looks, Leia thinks with a small twinge of regret, very lonely.

“Leia,” he greets. “It’s been a long time.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees a glint of white.

Kenobi freezes in his tracks. “Luke?” He whispers, and through the distance Leia can hear it as if he’d been speaking directly into her ear.

Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, her mother whispers in her head. He blames himself.

In an instant, Leia understands everything.

Kenobi is still staring at the boy he’d lost so long ago when Vader cuts him down.

Later, as she’s pacing around on the Falcon to Han muttering darkly about Princesses and supernatural abilities, she rememberers the way the boy collapsed, as if all his strings had been cut. Vader was too occupied with him to even look at her as she shot at him desperately.

Luke. She hates him more than she hates herself.

“They know where you are,” he hisses frantically. “They’re coming for you. You have to run.”

“Wait!” Leia quickly pulls up their sonar. Nothing yet, but it would explain the distant queasiness she’d felt since they’d landed. She tended to trust her gut. “How do you know? How much time do we have?”

“Not important, and not enough,” he says. “I have to go, and so do you. You need to leave yesterday.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

He pauses. “Call me Skywalker.”

“That’s not an answer, Skywalker.”

“Yes it is.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but there are faint voices on the other end, drawing nearer.

“Shit,” Skywalker mutters. “I have to go. I’ll be in contact, okay? Don’t ever tell me where you are, or where you’re heading. Vader and Palpatine aren’t shy about reading minds. Just leave as soon as you can, and figure out the rest.”

“But—“

It’s too late. The comm has disconnected.

She stares down at it, disbelieving. How would the Empire know they’re here? Why should she trust a stranger who somehow got her personal comm code?

Gut feeling or not, on paper this was a perfect location. Supplied, armored, and most importantly, extremely well hidden. There was no real reason to think it would possibly be found out.

It’s probably a trap. Almost definitely a trap.

Han sticks his head in the door, a sour look on his face. “Hey Princess, can you tell these idiots—“

She makes a decision then and there.

“We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“We’re evacuating, effective immediately.” She pushes past him, and he follows so close he’s nearly stepping on her heel.

“Why? I think it’s pretty cozy here. Actual sunlight doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Apparently too cozy.” She grabs the first person she sees, a pilot who stares at her with wide eyes. “Emergency evacuation. Spread the word to pack everything you can and leave, I’ll let you know where we’re headed when we’re in orbit.”

He salutes and scurries off.

“Woah, hey now.” Han snatches at her elbow until she turns around to face him. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a new informant. He told me the Empire knows we’re here. They’re coming for us.”

“And you trust this person because…”

“I don’t have a choice,” she snaps. Someone runs past them, holding three packs filled to the brim with rations. “It’s either he’s lying and we’re not in danger, or he’s telling the truth and we’re going to die if we don’t listen. It’s not exactly hard math.”

It could be a trap of course, but he hadn’t suggested any sort of direction or destination to follow, and Leia wasn’t inclined to share. Especially not after his tidbit about Vader and Palpatine reading minds.

He squints at her. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you,” he insists. He’s so infuriating. Leia doesn’t know why she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, and you’re either gonna tell me why, or find a different transport when we head out of here.”

“Who said I was riding on your hunk of junk?” She demands. She actually was planning on going with them, since the Falcon has more than enough room for all the supplies that can’t fit in the other ships and none of the trustworthiness of the other pilots, but Han doesn’t need to know that.

“Well?”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing how to read her. She doesn’t know when she let that happen.

“I feel it,” she admits, defeated. “Something tells me he’s trustworthy. We’ll wait and see if it’s right.”

He studies her. She holds her head high, but inside she’s jittery at the scrutiny. They don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, all right,” Han finally says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes, like she’s not acting absolutely insane by putting all her trust in a random man she’s never even met. “Now come on, Princess, weren’t you the one who said we had to hurry?”

What is it about this man that makes it impossible to tell whether she wants to punch him or drag him into the nearest supply closet? They don’t have time to find out.

“So there’s good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” she demands.

“They know there’s a mole.”

“Shit.” Of course they know, how could they not? She should have been more careful, less obvious about the correlation of their movements with the Empire’s plans. “The good news?”

“They’ve tasked me with hunting down this ‘pathetic rebel spy,’” Skywalker says, humor in his voice. “That should buy me some time.”

Leia can’t quite stop the snort she lets out. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You’re speaking to a professional mole-hunter, here.”

“Well congratulations on the promotion, Skywalker.”

“Thank you,” he says grandly. Then, quieter, “It won’t last, Princess. They’ll find out eventually.”

“I know. Just hang in there, it will be over soon.”

“Will it?” He asks, suddenly sounding very young. She realizes that she has no idea how old he is. She doesn’t know anything about the man who has saved them more times than she cared to admit, and the idea rattles her until they sign off.

Later, she looks up the name Skywalker in their archives. There are a few results, but only one sticks out.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and hero of the Clone Wars. Killed at the hands of Darth Vader. There are gossip articles too, speculations on his relationship with the pregnant Senator Padmé Amidala, who died around the same time Skywalker did. The baby, it seems, died with her.

Unless he didn’t.

It’s ridiculous. It’s impossible. The idea is so ludicrous that Leia almost rejects it entirely.

But it makes sense. By the Maker, it makes sense.

The child of Anakin Skywalker, it seems, would be a powerful Force user indeed. Powerful enough for Kenobi to take the baby and run. Powerful enough for the Emperor to want him for his own gain. Powerful enough to send Vader after Kenobi and take the boy himself.

Maybe even powerful enough to shield his mind from Vader and Palpatine’s intrusions.

Powerful enough to hide the fact that he’s a spy.

Leia sinks into her chair, covering her face as she laughs.

Maybe Luke isn’t so bad after all.

“No, no, no,” she mutters, digging through the smoking wreckage of the TIE fighter. “Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”

“Princess…” Han lays a hand on her shoulder that she immediately shrugs off.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s not. Luke!”

A faint cough answers her, and she’s so relieved to hear it she could cry. Behind her, Han starts bellowing for a medic and, “Some damn help here, do you expect us to move all this ourselves?”

“Luke, it’s me,” she sobs. “It’s Leia. You’re at the Rebel Base. You’re safe.”

More coughing, and there’s a worrying rasp to his voice when he says, “You know…my name?”

“I figured it out.”

“Smart.” This time, the coughing is so bad Leia and Han both wince.

“Shit, kid,” Han says, moving another piece of rubble. “Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here, all right?”

“Stand back,” Luke chokes out.

“What?”

“Stand back. Please.”

Han protests, but something in Leia knows they should listen to him. She drags him back, and motions everyone else to fall back with them. They do, albeit reluctantly.

“Clear,” she calls, hoping Luke can hear her.

The TIE explodes.

“Fuck!” Han goes back in, Leia on his heels with the terrifying feeling that she’d just allowed Luke to die, before they both stop in their tracks. Around them, the broken pieces of the TIE are floating.

And curled up in the middle is a man dressed all in white.

“Luke!” She pushes past Han to start dragging him out, and after another moment of staring around them, he helps her.

As soon as they get clear, the pieces fall to the ground with a clatter. Luke falls limp with them.

Han is still looking at the TIE. “Can you do that?” He asks quietly.

Leia pauses her examination of the unconscious man in front of her to glare at him. “Is that what you’re most concerned with right now? Really?”

“Excuse me for asking, Princess!”

“It’s white,” Luke grumbles, pulling at his hospital gown bitterly. “I hate wearing white.”

“Should I be offended?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t even. You look great and you know it. I just feel like I never left.”

“Well,” she says gingerly. “I guess it’s a good thing you got sick of it. If we went around in matching outfits all the time, people might think we’re twins.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

[egophiliac]

WHO IS THIS PINK HAIR GENTLEMAN YOU JUST POSTED? HES SO PRETTY???

he's Hayate from Ride Kamens! 🦩 he is my bird son a very silly guy who's part of a superhero (well...hero-ish) group trying to take down a cult, although his real passion is lattes. also, he is very pink!

(the fancy outfit was just for a game event, alas, although I spent way too much time grinding to get the pink variant so now it is mine forever, mwahaha. >:)

[oneluckydragon]

BREAKING NEWS!!! Local idiot ghost absolutely blown away when boyfriend gives him a nickname for the first time, more info after this broadcast.

Bonus pet-name edition:

(Yeah I know it's ooc for grovyle to EVER use the term "babe" but lets go ahead and assume he's done it accidentally a few times rather than intentionally. He's deeply in love with the dumb ghostman, ok. Sometimes it just slips out.)

Dusknoir is still recovering from hearing it. And when he finally calls grovyle "love" himself on accident a few days later, he falls deathly ill for two weeks cause his body couldn't handle the aftermath and started rapidly shutting down on a molecular level.

[cursedzucchini]

DC x DP prompt #5

This is so dumb but Danny is Bruce's uncle.

And not in the Danny is old or whatever, no, my dude is 15 looks like he's 13 and when he was running away from home, he met this really really old lady which looked at him, looked at his wounds and went "aight I'm adopting u"

Danny thought she was a ghost and this was her obsession, so imagine his surprise when it turned out that not only this lady was alive, but also supposedly from very influential family??? Danny wasn't sure Abt that one, bc he himself never heard abt these "Waynes" like that just sounds weird, but hey. It made the lady happy so.

Anyway they part ways, bc the lady only wanted to adopt not care, and Danny decides, hey now that I have a new fam, maybe i should get to know them or something?

Well imagine his surprise when he found out some guy in his fifties is supposedly his nephew and has like bazillion kids.

Idk what happens next yada yada sheniganas happen and than Danny ends up in Gotham. And meets Bruce Wayne. Who obviously sees young child w si gns of abuse, black hair, blue eyes and is immidietly like "aight I'm adopting u" (like grandma like grandson huh)

Only this time, Danny is sure he isn't a ghost, and has a counter argument "u can't adopt me I'm ur uncle" and immidietly flees bc dealing w his problems isn't something he does.

Cue confused batfam or stuff idk, I'm so tired and this is just an excuse for crack

[mary-kasexual]

me and the bad bitch i pulled by selling my soul (designs for an au made by @predict485!!! full credit to her for all the lore details, had a blast coming up with these)

[skyward-floored]

Here’s my (very late) birthday fic for @kikker-oma, it’s based off her art for day 17 of whumptober!

(Which at least one other person has already written a fic for but I didn’t realize until after I’d already started writing it so any similarities are pure coincidence 😅)

https://www.tumblr.com/kikker-oma/731400216730828800?source=share

I hope you like it Oma, happy (very belated) birthday!!!

————————————————————

Something was wrong with Legend.

Time could see it in the way the teenager walked, his steps heavy and dragging. How he lingered at the back of the group and barely spoke, mostly just nodding along to whatever it was Wind was telling him, and didn’t go out of his way to speak to anyone, his words sharp and vicious when he did.

Normally Time wouldn’t think twice about Legend being a little extra antisocial and standoffish. He was often grumpy (though Time had seen his soft interior once or twice in the brief time they’d been traveling together), and it wasn’t surprising his mood would get a little more severe now and then.

No, the worrying thing was that it had been several days since the behavior began, and it hadn’t gone away yet.

If anything, it had gotten worse.

Legend seemed to get more lethargic and snappish as they traveled across the wilderness of Wild’s Hyrule, keeping to himself even more intensely, and largely ignoring the rest of them. He’d gotten paler too, in just the few days of whatever this was, and Time was only growing more concerned.

It was worrying. Incredibly so.

Time had been keeping a closer eye on Legend ever since he’d realized something was up, and most of the others seemed to catch on that something was wrong as well, but nobody had confronted Legend about it yet. Or if they had, hadn’t succeeded at all in fixing the problem. Twilight had tried to tactfully approach the subject just that morning, and Legend had nearly bitten his head off in response.

Time wasn’t sure what to do, and he wasn’t the only one.

After all, none of them liked to admit something was wrong with themselves— Time himself was certainly guilty of that— but Legend, prickly as he was, was one of the worst. Confronting him head-on about whatever the issue was would only make him more likely to deny anything was wrong at all, as Twilight had already demonstrated earlier.

But someone needed to get through to him, before something snapped.

And later that day, Time finally got a chance.

They’d reached a good spot to stop for the night, Time watching Legend like a hawk the entire trip there. The veteran had nearly tripped on nothing a few times, but had covered it up so quickly nobody could call him out on it.

They had eaten dinner fairly quietly for once, Wild roasting some mushrooms and meat of some kind. Legend kept to himself during the meal, barely picking at his food, and staying out of the conversation. Everyone pretended not to watch, but it was almost laughable how obvious it was that they were all keeping an eye on him, the worry hanging like a cloud over the group.

And Legend seemed to have noticed the increased scrutiny, as later when the heroes were all settling down for the night— cleaning up dinner, getting out bed rolls— Legend stood and told them all he was going to patrol around.

“Really? Are you sure?” Hyrule piped up, and Four frowned from next to him when Legend nodded.

“...By yourself?” the smithy asked.

A very slight edge of concern lay in his voice, and Legend’s shoulders immediately hiked up to his ears.

“What, you think I can’t handle myself?” he shot back in a sharper tone than normal, and Four quickly raised his hands in a peaceful gesture.

“Of course not Vet, I know you can,” he reassured, and Warriors stepped in.

“Exactly. It’s just dark, and we’re in unfamiliar territory, that’s all,” Warriors put in, and Legend turned to glare at him.

“Yet that’s never an issue when Twilight goes off by himself,” Legend snapped. “Shove off Captain. I’m the veteran, remember? I’ll be fine.”

Then before anyone could stop him, he disappeared into the trees.

All of them watched in an uncomfortable silence as Legend stomped away, and Time stopped Twilight when he went to follow him, placing a hand on his arm.

“Best we wait until he’s calmer,” he said, and Twilight exhaled, then sat down. “...And probably best someone who hasn’t made him mad yet go.”

“I think that’s just you at this point,” Sky pointed out, and Time paused, then sighed as he realized Sky was right. Every single one of the rest of the group had been the target of Legend’s ire in the past few days. Time somehow was the only one who had escaped unscathed... which made him the perfect candidate to follow Legend now.

“All right,” he agreed somewhat reluctantly, and settled down to wait.

“Hylia be with you,” Wild muttered as he cleaned his cooking pot. “You’re gonna need her.”

(...)

Half an hour later, as the others either went to bed or tried to busy themselves, Time got up and headed in the direction that Legend had stormed off in.

The moon was large and bright in the sky, and Time almost didn’t need the lantern he’d brought to find Legend’s trail. Though despite the moonlight lighting his path and the assistance of the lantern, it took Time much longer to find the hunched-over figure of Legend then he’d thought it would.

Legend had gone a fair distance from camp, and plunked himself down on a large fallen tree, his head bowed as he stared at the ground. He didn’t react when Time stepped a bit closer, and Time frowned as he watched him for a moment.

Were his shoulders shaking?

Time purposely crunched a few leaves to signal his presence, and Legend’s ear twitched in response. He didn’t do anything else though, and didn’t look at Time when he carefully sat down beside him on the log and set down the lantern.

An owl hooted nearby, and Time listened to it a moment before letting out a quiet sigh.

“They can be an overbearing bunch, can’t they?” he remarked in the silence, the owl going quiet.

Legend flicked an ear, and didn’t respond.

“...They mean well, though,” Time continued when the silence stretched between them. ”They’re not trying to be overwhelming, or even nuisances. They’re... just concerned about you, Vet.”

Legend let out a little huff of air that almost sounded amused.

“Right,” he said flatly. “Well they shouldn’t bother, there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

His hand tightened where it was held around his waist, and Time couldn’t help but notice when it did. Legend’s face seemed paler in the moonlight shining down on it as well, but when he saw Time staring at him, he scowled.

“Go back to camp old man, I’m fine,” he muttered.

Time took a deep breath. Nayru grant me wisdom, here’s where it gets tricky.

“The way you’ve been acting the past few days seems to speak towards a different answer,” he said in a level voice.

“Well whatever it is you think you’ve noticed is all in your imagination,” Legend shot back, clutching his middle even tighter.

Time looked at it again, and paused in what he was about to say as a thought suddenly dawned on him. He couldn’t remember for sure, not everything at least, but if he was right... would Legend really do something so detrimental to his health like that?

“Legend... when was the last time you ate anything?”

Legend’s mouth turned into a thin, hard line.

Ah-ha.

“That’s none of your business.”

“It is if you’re pushing yourself not to for some reason,” Time said, firmness creeping into his tone as he watched the boy. “We have plenty of supplies Legend, why aren’t you eating?”

“I never said I wasn’t,” Legend snapped back, glaring at him. “And even if I am, maybe I’m just not hungry.”

“Not hungry at all?” Time asked with a raised eyebrow, thinking back to the past several days. “Legend, I don’t seem to recall you actually eating anything recently, you can’t just starve yourself.”

“Oh yeah? Well maybe it would be better for everyone if I did!”

Time blinked in surprise, and Legend’s anger seemed to falter a moment, something horribly vulnerable cracking through the prickly mask he’d thrown on. But he quickly tossed it back over himself, despite the tears trying to gather in his eyes, and his expression reverted back to the anger he’d possessed a few moments ago.

“Link,” Time said quietly, and Legend looked away. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Okay? Would you shove off?”

“Legend,” Time said imploringly, and Legend’s ears pinned back against his head.

“Look I’ve handled it alone before, I can handle it now,” Legend suddenly bit out, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s just— nothing!”

“Nothing wouldn’t make you raise your voice like this,” Time pointed out.

“Well it is!” Legend said in a slightly quieter tone, though it still shook in anger.

Something in Time’s chest ached at the rawness in his voice and the tears that had returned to his eyes. Legend’s lip was trembling, but he was firmly biting down on it to stop it from doing so, and he looked like he was close to losing what control he had left.

Time studied him more intently, trailing carefully over skin flushed with anger, over shaking fists and shoulders, at the hand still held close to his middle.

The shakiness, refusing to eat, the paleness of his face...

Time’s eye widened as a new thought crossed his mind, and he exhaled, reaching a careful hand towards Legend.

“Link, you’re sick, aren’t you?” Time asked in a soft voice, and Legend’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “That’s at least part of this, isn’t it?”

Legend slapped away his extended hand.

“Go away,” he bit out, something truly dangerous in his voice, but Time was nearing the eye of the storm and he wasn’t prepared to back out now. “Go back to camp, wander in the woods or whatever, I don’t care. Just leave.”

“Legend,” Time said, shifting closer. “You can’t keep ignoring this. You nearly fell over earlier, how long have you been feeling ill?”

“There’s nothing to ignore,” Legend snarled. “Just— just leave me alone.”

“I can’t do that,” Time said, his voice soft, but firm. “You need help, and I won’t—”

“I don’t!” Legend shouted, his voice hoarse. He tried to get to his feet, but Time quickly caught him by the wrists, stopping him from leaving. “Just— let go!”

Time shook his head, and Legend tried to jerk out of his hold with no success.

The teenager’s wrists were warm in his grasp, and Time could feel them shaking, though he wasn’t sure if it was from anger or the illness Legend was fighting. Either way, he wasn’t making any headway in escaping, even though Time was sure Legend would have normally been halfway across the forest by now.

Legend tried to swing a fist at Time, but he didn’t succeed in the slightest, the older hero still holding him tight.

“What’s wrong, Link?” he asked, and Legend only struggled harder in his grip.

“Let go!”

Time shook his head, and Legend let out a cry of frustration.

His eyes were glassy with tears as he glared, and his breath came in short pants as he tried desperately to free himself. Legend’s facade of being perfectly fine had dropped in his anger and panic, and Time was now wondering how on earth any of them had missed just how bad things had gotten.

“Leave me ALONE old man!” Legend shouted.

But Time kept holding him, equally gentle and firm as he tried to lurch away. He met Legend’s eyes, stormy and swirling with emotion, and gave his hands a soft squeeze.

“Legend, son, please let me help you,” he said softly.

Legend’s face twisted with rage.

“Don’t call me that!” he nearly screamed, and tried one last time to pull Time’s arms out of his grip.

But he was too weak to free himself, the sickness affecting his strength. Legend couldn’t do anything but struggle, his breath coming in quick gasps, wrists trembling in Time’s hold as he tried to free himself with one last burst of desperation.

Then he crumpled forward, a sob wracking his body.

Time’s eye widened, and he caught Legend, immediately running a hand through his bangs. His forehead was hot where Time’s fingers brushed it, and Legend was shaking so hard he felt like he would fall apart, Time soothing him as he sobbed again.

“Legend, easy,” Time whispered, panic trying to burrow into his chest. He’d never seen Legend like this, screaming and crying and showing his emotions in such a blatantly un-Legend way. And he didn’t exactly have experience with soothing sobbing, feverish teenagers, but Legend was acting so strange...

There’s something else at play here then just a virus, Time thought worriedly, Legend letting out an unsightly hiccup.

All of Legend’s strength seemed to have been used up by their argument, and he lay nearly limp against Time’s arm, shivering, with tears still escaping the corners of his eyes.

“What’s wrong, Link?” Time asked again, careful and soft.

This time Legend didn’t try to pull away or scream at him. He merely let out a quiet breath, one that shuddered on the exhale.

“I... I don’t...” Legend croaked, his eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t... again.”

“You can’t what?” Time asked, and Legend swallowed, tears trickling down his cheeks. Time shifted his grip a little so that Legend’s head rested more comfortably on his shoulder, and waited for him to continue.

“...Care,” Legend whispered finally. His hand tightened where it was fisted in Time’s shirt. “Every time I-I care, someone gets... hurt. I get hurt, I... I can’t again, not...”

He let out a shuddering breath, and his eyes squeezed more tightly shut.

“I don’t want you all to care,” he whispered.

Time looked down at the boy in his arms, shivering and feverish and trying so desperately to fight through it himself, and exhaled.

Oh.

Legend curled into himself at the admission, tears still falling down his cheeks, and Time suddenly saw himself, trying to keep a safe distance from everyone who tried to care for him, afraid of anyone slipping past his barriers and finding the scared little boy hiding behind so desperate for love.

Time swallowed.

We’re all horribly similar, are we not?

“...Being known is a terrifying thing,” Time said after several moments of silence drifted past, voice barely a whisper.

Legend shuddered again.

“I used to think it impossible,” Time whispered. “To be known, but not hurt. Drifting along and staying unattached seemed best, safer. Even when I was in desperate need of help, taking care of myself... seemed like it would hurt less. Without Malon, I have no doubts I would still be that way.”

Time sighed, and looked down at Legend, not even sure if the words were getting through his fever.

“Legend... you don’t have to tell us everything. But we are a team. Brothers, in spirit if not by blood. By merit of those things alone... we care for you,” he said simply. “I have no doubt that if any one of us were in the condition you’re currently in, you would be caring for them as fiercely as anything.“

Time shifted, and met Legend’s eyes, puffy and red, and bright with fever and exhaustion.

“Let us do the same for you.”

Legend closed his eyes and let his head fall back against Time’s shoulder, face scrunched slightly with pain. Several long moments went by, and then Legend let out an exhausted exhale, and gave Time the smallest nod he’d ever seen.

“...Sure. Fine,” he muttered, almost so quietly Time didn’t hear him. “...But only because my head is pounding so hard I can’t... think of anything better at the moment.”

“Trying is half the battle,” Time said with a faint smile, and Legend sighed again, heavy and exhausted.

Time pulled Legend up into his arms, and noted with a bit of worry that Legend was rather frail in his hold, still shivering. And normally the veteran would protest up and down about being carried, but Legend was completely silent, only a few leftover sniffles coming from him as Time hooked the lantern he’d brought to his belt so his hands would be free.

It truly was a miracle Legend had lasted this long without collapsing in front of them all— but Time knew the power of stubbornness when it came to this sort of thing. Malon was still mad at him for that time he’d tried to milk the cows when he’d had that broken wrist.

It was still impressive, though.

I wonder how long he’s had a fever, he wondered as Legend shifted in his arms. One this intense wouldn’t just appear... it must have been at least a day or two.

“...Don’t tell the others,” Legend suddenly whispered as Time began to walk back to camp, and Time looked down at him. “About... you know.”

Time nodded. “The only thing they get to know about is you being sick,” he promised, and Legend relaxed a bit further in his arms.

When they got back to camp, everyone stared, but nobody commented on Legend’s tear-streaked face, or the fact that he was shivering and being carried. Twilight made eye contact with Time, looking at Legend in concern, and Time mouthed the word ‘fever’.

Twilight’s face softened with understanding, and he quickly put out Legend’s bedroll so Time could get Legend into it.

Legend didn’t resist, and the others didn’t directly address the fact that he had obviously been hiding the fact that he was sick from them all. They merely went about their business, occasionally drifting by where Legend was lying in his bedroll, offering a few words, or some food, or just quiet company that offered to place a wet cloth on his forehead.

And when Legend finally fell asleep, he looked more relaxed then Time had seen him in weeks.

[cable-salamder]

Need to write a fic on what Zane did immediately right after Dr. Julien turned off his memory switch and he “awoke” again. Imagine waking up in this place that you do not recognise and you turn around and there’s a guy in the bed behind you who seems to be dead and oh god you realise you can’t remember anything at all from your life. What else is there to do but to run away?

[queenlucythevaliant]

So

They finally let me rearrange the religion section at The Bookstore after I spent several months complaining about it. By and large, I'm content with the job I did, but I still have some quibbles with the titles we stock.

Here is a selection of books that we apparently have:

Book about how to understand and love your child who smokes pot

Book about how to get a woman to trust you again after you cheat on her, written by the same author as the one about children smoking pot (what is this guy's life???)

A book called "Raising Prophetic Kids" that I was sorely tempted to buy as a gag for my parents

Prosperity Gospel book that claims to teach you how to become an ultra-rich CEO by following the example of King Solomon

Several dozen fringe eschatology books that are categorized by the publisher as "theology and Christian history" (I did not put them there)

"Inspirational" romance novel about Potiphar's wife

I Am Second book that catapulted me straight back to 2013

Book about spiritual lessons you can share with your horse

Amish harlequins

And two books written by my grandma's prayer partner's husband, a man who gave my parents terrible pre-marital counseling and was generally a pretty big hypocrite. That one was kind of a jump scare lol

[0m3n-0f-d3ath]

Local knight is enamored by the princess

Fantasy au!Kat and Lily

[marzipanandminutiae]

watching a sn4ppydragon video (censored to avoid tags) like "oh hey this one isn't as annoying as most of her content seems to be!"

she often has this weird "I'm telling it like it REALLY is!!!" or "not like OTHER historical costumers!!!" schtick going on that I don't really appreciate, but this video seemed better

and then she implies that white people buying Asian oil-paper parasols is orientalism and therefore Bad/To Be Avoided

you know, the parasols that (as far as I'm aware) have no deeper spiritual or cultural significance than A Pretty Sunshade. the parasols that have been exported specifically for the western market by Asian artists and merchants for centuries, and which are usually purchased from Asian-owned shops even today

damnit you were doing so well